b'\nmmmmm \n\n\n\n\n\n\nV \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER \n\n\n\nfor lent \n\n\n\nCOMPILED AND EDITED BY \n\nx THE REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2I \n\n\n\n\n3 - \n\n21 1885^}/ \n\n\n\nNEW YORK: \nTHOMAS WHITTAKER, \n\n2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE. \nI88 5 . \n\n\n\nc 7 \n\n\n\nCopyright, 1885, \nBy T. WHITTAKER. \n\n\n\nPRINTED BY \n\nRAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY, \n\nBOSTON \n\n\n\nMr. Thomas Whittaker. \n\nDear Sir, \xe2\x80\x94 During the Lenten season, many of our \nclergy are so occupied that they find little time for pre- \nparing sermons. Desiring to be of some service to them, \nI have taken your suggestion, and compiled this volume. \nThe sermons are chiefly condensations ; some have been \nshortened by discarding whole paragraphs ; and others are \nmere extracts from long discourses. They will average \nonly about ten minutes in delivery. If they should aid \nany of my younger brethren, relieve the pressure of an \nover-burdened brain, or furnish a crumb of daily bread \nto some hungry soul in private, I shall be thankful and \nhappy. \n\nYours in Christ, \n\nJ. CROSS. \n66 West 38TH Street, New York, \nAdvent-tide, 1884. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nPAGE \n\nI. True Conversion Cross . . i \n\nII. Benedicite Grimley . 8 \n\nIII. Effectual Repentance Cross . . 16 \n\nIV. The Haunting Spectre Buxton . 23 \n\nV. Temptation Buxton . 28 \n\nVI. Lent in Nineveh Cross . . 33 \n\nVII. The Sleep of Sin Grimley . 42 \n\nVIII. Rest Not Here Cross . . 49 \n\nIX. The Watchman\'s Warning .... Buxton . 53 \n\nX. Fruit of the Righteous Cross . . 57 \n\nXI. Self-Subjection Grimley . 65 \n\nXII. Leaven of the Kingdom Cross . . 71 \n\nXIII. The Purifying Hope Maclaren 81 \n\nXIV. The Seen and the Unseen .... Grimley . 85 \nXV. Drawing Near to God Cross . . 90 \n\nXVI. " The Bridal of the Earth and Sky " Maclaren 95 \n\nXVII. Keeping the Heart ....... Cross . . 101 \n\nXVIII. Man\'s True Treasure in God. . . Maclaren 104 \n\nXIX. Pursuit of Charity Cross. . 112 \n\nXX. Humanitarianism and Christianity. Grimley. 118 \n\nXXI. Permanence of Love Lipscomb 127 \n\nXXII. Sojourning with God Cross . .135 \n\nXXIII. Christ our Example Ewer. . 143 \n\n\n\nVI \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nXXIV. The Carnal Mind Parker \n\ni XXV. Nothing but Leaves .... Buxton \n\nXXVI. Misericordia Cross . \n\nXXVII. The Woman at the Well . . Grimley \n\nXXVIII. Marvels of Mercy Cross . \n\nXXIX. The Hidden Life Grimley \n\nXXX. Sin Immeasurably Removed . Cross . \n\nXXXI. Justification . Fader. \n\nXXXII. God\'s Fatherly Compassion . Cross . \n\nXXXIII. Contentment Buxton \n\nXXXIV. The Two Mites Grimley \n\nXXXV. Conviction of Sin Buxton \n\nXXXVI. Marriage at Cana Gri?nley \n\nXXXVII. Penitential Confession . . . Buxton \n\nXXXVIII. Dives and his Brethren . . Grimley \n\nXXXIX. Christ\'s New Commandment . Parker \n\nXL. Redeeming Grace Cross . \n\nXLI. Sympathy, Human and Divine Grimley \n\nXLIT. Fenelon\'s Prayer Etver . \n\nXLIII. God\'s Love to Man Fader . \n\nXLIV. The Mysterious Agony . . . Cross . \n\nXLV. The Great Sacrifice .\'. . . Cross . \n\nXLVI. The Crucifixion Buxton \n\nXLVII. The Garden Grave Buxton \n\n\n\nPAGE \n147 \n\n!54 \n159 \n\n164 \n\n174 \n179 \n186 \n191 \n\n194 \n199 \n204 \n208 \n212 \n220 \n224 \n231 \n\n237 \n242 \n\n249 \n2 54 \n258 \n267 \n272 \n280 \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\ni. \n\nTRUE CONVERSION. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nTurn ye even to me with all the heart, and with fasting, and with \nweeping, and with mourning. \xe2\x80\x94 Joel\\\\. 12. \n\nAgain the annual penitential season is upon us. Again \nthe Church assumes her sackcloth, and sprinkles her \nlocks with ashes, and calls her children to humiliation, \nrepentance and prayer. The institution is doubtless of \napostolic origin, as many of the early Fathers attest ; and \nthe chief Christian authorities of the first three centuries \nuniformly recognize its existence as an observance of their \ntimes. In the year of our Lord 325, the Council of \nNicaea fixed the period of the fast at forty days, and that \nhas been the term of its duration annually down to the \npresent day. If Scripture precedent be demanded, it is \nsufficient to cite the example of Moses, who twice fasted \nforty days in Mount Sinai ; and of Elijah, who six centu- \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nries later kept a fast of the same length in the same \nlocality ; and of the king of Nineveh and his people, \nwhose fast of forty days turned away from the guilty me- \ntropolis the threatened wrath of Heaven ; and, above all, \nof our divine Master and Pattern, who, preparatory to his \nMessianic ministry, fasted forty days and forty nights in \nthe wilderness of Judaea. And surely we of to-day need \nsuch chastening of our sinful nature, such salutary check \nupon our sinful passions and habits ; and what could be \nmore reasonable than that we should once a year thus \nhumble ourselves under the mighty hand of God? Let \nus listen, therefore, to the divine summons in the first \nwords of the prophetic message appointed for the Ash- \nWednesday Epistle : " Turn ye even to me with all \nthe heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with \nmourning." \n\nHere is true conversion ; a turning of the mind, the \nwill, the affections, the whole inner man, to God ; involv- \ning a change of heart, a change of habit, a change of \ncharacter, a change of masters and moral relations, such \na change as may well be called a putting-off of the old \nman and a putting-on of the new. In Scripture repre- \nsentation, it is the lost treasure found, the lost sheep re- \nstored, the lost son returned, the exile recalled from ban- \nishment, the captive released from servitude, the prisoner \nemerging from his dungeon, the rebel subdued and rec- \nonciled, the convict pardoned and promoted, the blind \neye opened to the blessed daylight, the sleeper hearing \nthe call and awaking to duty, the dead thrilling to the \n\n\n\nTRUE CONVERSION. 3 \n\nquickening voice of Christ, and coming forth from his \ngrave. \n\nTrue religion enlists all the faculties and affections of \nour spiritual nature. It requires the whole inner man, \nintellectual, emotional, and moral. Without a painful \nconsciousness of sin, an ingenuous confession of sin, a \nprofound shame and sorrow for sin, an intense hatred and \nentire renunciation of sin, an honest purpose to lead a \nnew and better life, an earnest spirit of self-denial and \nself-sacrifice, with frequent and fervent prayer for grace \nto bring all this to good effect, with cordial acquiescence \nin the divine will and joyful acceptance of the divine \nmercy, every attempt at conversion will be an utter fail- \nure^ Outward amendment there may be, we all know, \nwithout any corresponding change within. A person may \ncease sinning because temptation or opportunity has \nceased, or because present circumstances are unfavorable \nto the accustomed indulgence, or because he fears the \nsocial consequences or the public infamy likely to ensue. \nBut will you call this conversion, when you relinquish \nyour sins with regret, and give your services to God as \nyou would give your purse to the highwayman? If you \nyield to God\'s requirement from force or fear, what is it \nbut the unwilling service of a trembling slave ? Will God \naccept such a service, and say, " Well done, good and \nfaithful servant "? Nay, he demands the free-will offer- \ning of filial love ; he delights in the sacrifice of a broken \nand contrite heart. No heart in it, your religion is all an \noutside show, the shell without the kernel, the vessel with- \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nout the wine, the casket without the gem, the body without \nthe soul. Unreal, it is unproductive ; like the tree in the \npicture, bearing no fruit. Whatever of beauty it may \nhave is evanescent as the rainbow, which fades away while \nwe gaze upon it. It is a character enacted upon the \nstage, and ending with the play. \n\nIn religion, as in the world, the best things are oftenest \ncounterfeited. As gold, silver, diamonds, and costly ap- \nparel, are frequently substituted by base and worthless \nimitations ; so are penitence, piety, holiness, and true \nworship, by the vilest arts and inventions of hypocrisy. \nIf you knew you were dealing with a cunning cheat, you \nwould be on your guard against his knavish artifices ; but \nyou have to deal with three grand cheats, leagued for your \ndeception and overthrow \xe2\x80\x94 Satan, the father of lies ; die \nworld, a hollow show, a gilded sham, a fascinating mock- \nery ; and your own heart, deceitful above all things, and \ndesperately wicked, beyond all human knowledge. Will \nyou trust them? Better trust the wind, the wave, the \nquicksand, the volcano. King Saul wept, confessed his \nsin, and swore an oath of amity to David ; but David \nknew that heartless tongue too well to place any confi- \ndence in its utterances, even when attended by tears ; and \n" Saul went home, but David and his men gat them up \nunto the hold.\' , Herod listened to John with reverence ; \nbut, at the instigation of a wicked woman, he cut off the \nprophet\'s head. The publican of the parable uttered a \nsincere confession ; the sinful woman shed true tears over \nher Saviour\'s feet; and when the Master in the high- \npriest\'s hall turned and looked upon the disciple that \n\n\n\nTRUE CONVERSION. \n\n\n\ndenied him, " Peter went out and wept bitterly," and \ntradition says he never afterward heard a cock crow with- \nout a renewal of his tears. \n\nAnd let us remember how all Israel wept at Mizpah, \nfasting, confessing their sins, putting away Baal and Ash- \ntaroth, turning unto the Lord with all their heart, and \npouring out water before him, symbolical of the pouring- \nout of their sins, their confessions, and their penitential \nprayers. Observe, it was not the pouring-out of oil, which \nleaves the vessel foul ; nor of wine, which leaves its odor \nbehind ; nor of coin or gems, which might easily be gath- \nered up again ; but of water, which leaves neither stain \nnor smell, and cannot be recovered. So let us pour out \nour sins before God, with humble confessions, and fervent \nsupplications, and penitential tears. Let us turn even \nunto him with all the heart ; lay our best faculties and \naffections at his feet ; cast ourselves, soul and body, a \nliving sacrifice, upon his altar. Surely, the end is worth \nthe endeavor ; and no effort should be deemed too ardu- \nous, no agony too intense, no self-denial too painful, by \nwhich we may lay hold on eternal life. Hither, then, let \nus bring all the energies of a redeemed and immortal \nnature, and toil as the sailor does in the tempest, and \nstrive as the soldier does in the battle, and struggle as the \nwrestler does in the arena, and apply ourselves to the \ngreat enterprise of the soul\'s salvation as the student does \nto his books, the merchant to his traffic, and every artisan \nto his calling, still looking for help to Him whose strength \nis made perfect in our weakness, and whose grace is suf- \nficient for all human necessities. Then our labor shall \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nnot be vain in the Lord, and this will prove to us the \nhappiest Lent we ever saw, and the blessed Easter morn- \ning will find us in full sympathy with the victorious Cap- \ntain of our salvation \xe2\x80\x94 " dead indeed unto sin, but alive \nunto God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." \n\nWhat is your Lenten programme ? How do you pur- \npose spending this sacred season? In fasting, weeping, \nand mourning, for your sins? Surely, we all have need \nof such penitential discipline. " If we say we have no \nsin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." \nCome to Gethsemane, and see the agony of Jesus ! \nWhose burden is it that crushes him to the earth, bleed- \ning at every pore ? Whose bitter cup is it, from which \nhis sinless humanity recoils, but from which he cannot \nbe excused? It is yours and mine. He suffers, the just \nfor the unjust, that he may bring us to God. In the \ndepth of his woe we see the turpitude of our transgres- \nsions. He is wrestling with our fearful retribution, to \nturn away from our guilty heads the wrath and ruin we \ndeserve. See ! the traitor comes, with a band of sol- \ndiers ; they arrest him ; they drag him to judgment ; \nthey scourge him to the cross. Let us Tollow, and see \nthis great sight, at which the earth shudders, and the \nheavens array themselves with sackcloth. With this scene \nof unparalleled horror and anguish have we nothing to \ndo? Is it Judas only, and Pilate, and Herod, and the \nhigh priest, and the false witnesses, and the bloodthirsty \npopulace, and the cruel mercenary soldiers, who are \nchargeable with this fearful infliction? \n\n\n\nTRUE CONVERSION. \n\n\n\n" \'Tis I, alas ! have done the deed ! \n\'Tis I his sacred flesh have torn ! \nMy sins have caused thee, Lord, to bleed, \nPointed the nail, and fixed the thorn ! " \n\nAnd shall we show any mercy to the sins which showed \nno mercy to the Sinless? Shall we spare the sins that \nwould not spare the Saviour? Oh, let us search them \nout, and scourge them forth, and drive them back to hell ! \nAnd if they will not leave us, let us starve them with fast- \ning, and drown them with weeping, and scorch them with \nfires of holiness ! Who can endure their vileness, tolerate \ntheir malignity, or harbor the fiends any longer in his \nheart ? \n\nBut what say I ? These fiends are our own voluntary \nactions, our own indulged and cherished passions. It is \nour own evil nature we must deny, our own guilty habits \nwe must discard, the devil enthroned within us we must \nhurl from his usurped dominion. Now for the struggle, \nnow for the conflict, in the strength of the Lord of hosts ! \nLet the strong man armed tremble at the advent of the \nStronger ! Courage, ye feeble and faint-hearted ! The \nChurch, with her services and sacraments, comes to your \naid like an army with banners. Seize your gracious \nopportunity, and He that hath loved you shall make you \nmore than conquerors ! Who is ashamed to follow Christ, \nand fast while others feast? Who fears the charge of \nformalism, or dreads the stigma of superstition? Who \ncares for the judgment of the heartless slaves of sin and \nbrainless dupes of Satan, whose god is the flesh, whose \naltar the table, whose worship self-indulgence, whose re- \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nward the everlasting fire ? Has not the world\'s standard \nalways been wrong, and have not God\'s elect always been \na peculiar people ? Take upon you the yoke of Christ, \nand follow him bearing your cross. Seize every means \nand method of self-discipline. Life is fleeting, eternity \nis at hand, and you have an infinite work to do before \nyou are ready to meet your Judge ! Hear once more the \nmerciful summons, which after a little time shall never, be \nheard again, save in the bitter mockeries of memory that \nhaunt the reprobate soul forever \xe2\x80\x94 " Turn ye even to \nme with all the heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, \nand with mourning ! " \n\n\n\nII. \n\nSecond \xc2\xa9ag of 3Lent. \nBENEDICITE. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \n\nO all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord. \xe2\x80\x94 Song of The Three \nChildren, \n\nThese, my friends, are the opening words of the Song \nof the Three Children, or of the Three Youths, which, \nat this season of the Church\'s year, it is customary for us \nto sing instead of the Te Deum. The three youths, or \nthe three children as they are called in old English style, \nare the three who are spoken of in the Book of Daniel as \n\n\n\nBENEDICITE. \n\n\n\nShadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and in the Song itself \nas x\\nanias, Azarias, and Misael. You are familiar with \ntheir story, \xe2\x80\x94 how they refused to be unfaithful to the one \ntrue God, refused to worship the gods of the King Nebu- \nchadnezzar, and to bow down to the golden image he \nhad set up \\ how, therefore, they were cast into the fiery \nfurnace ; how they were wondrously preserved from death \\ \nhow they sang the song which is now called after them, \nas a thanksgiving song to the Lord who had delivered \nthem from the fiery peril. \n\nNote, first of all, that they were thrown into the fiery \nfurnace for a sublime act of disobedience to an earthly \nking. He had bidden them worship gods which they \nknew were but the created things of the great God of \nheaven. He had bidden them worship things which they \nknew were not to be bowed down to : they were but the \nworks of the Lord. They refused, therefore, to bend the \nknee in worship either to the golden image, the work of \nmen\'s hands, or to the created things in earth, or sky, or \nsea, which the Babylonian king bade them revere as gods. \nBut while they so refused to worship the things which \nwere but the works of the Lord, the very first thought \nwhich found utterance upon their lips, when they gave \nthanks to God for so marvellously delivering them from \nthe torture and deadly peril of fire, was an acknowledg- \nment that the things they were bidden to worship did in \ntruth themselves utter a strain of joy, did themselves offer \nup a worship of praise to the Lord, \xe2\x80\x94 " O all ye works \nof the Lord, bless ye the Lord." \n\nIt must be admitted that these words, and words of \n\n\n\nIO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nlike import abounding in the Psalms and other poetical \nwritings of the Bible, are looked upon by many as diffi- \ncult words to make use of. The poetical form into which \nthe thought is thrown is overlooked. In reading and in \ninterpreting all poetry, the mind must be in a state recep- \ntive of exalted thoughts ; it must rise above prosaic liter- \nality. Under the influence of an enkindled imagination, \n\xe2\x80\x94 and remember that imagination is the power of pictur- \ning within us things invisible to the bodily eyes, \xe2\x80\x94 under \nthe influence of an enkindled imagination, language takes \na form different from that in which we give expression to \nour common needs, or to the statement of the results of \nour ordinary observation. The form taken is very fre- \nquently that of invocation of inanimate objects, invoca- \ntion of abstract ideas, invocation of departed heroes. \nFor any one to suppose that the speaker entertains the \nthought that the rocks he calls upon can hear his voice, \nor do other than send back the echo of his spoken words ; \nor that truth when solemnly appealed to is thought of as \nlistening with an attentive ear; or that every one who \ninvokes the shade of a departed worthy, believes that \nthe words will reach the dweller in spirit-land, \xe2\x80\x94 for any \none thus to bring ordinary prosaic thoughts into juxta- \nposition with the thoughts of a mind touched to its inmost \ndepths and roused to noble longings, would be deemed \nto be linking the sublime to the ludicrous, to be giving a \nmock dignity to the mean by raising it to a level with the \nnoble. \n\nMistakes of this sort are often made by well-meaning \nobjectors to the use of poetical language in our religious \n\n\n\nBENEDICITE. 1 1 \n\n\n\nworship. Many there are who have their misgivings as \nto the use of the Bent fdi \'cite, \xe2\x80\x94 misgivings which arise \nfrom failing to look upon the glorious song as expressed \nin the language of religious poetry. To allay such mis- \ngivings, it is as well that we who use the words \xe2\x80\x94 and \nwho rejoice in them as we use them \xe2\x80\x94 should not shrink \nfrom declaring that in addressing the clouds, and the \nseas and floods, and the frost and cold, we do so without \nany consciousness that there is any listening spirit in the \nclouds, or in the waters, or in the frosty air, by whom our \nwords are accepted as words of adoration and reverence ; \nbut that we use them in the sense in which the Psalmist \nof old used many kindred expressions, \xe2\x80\x94 that we use \nthem to express our overwhelming conviction, or to im- \npress more deeply upon our minds the thought, that the \nheavens declare the glory of the Lord, and the firma- \nment shows forth his handiwork; that all things praise \nthe Lord by fulfilling the purposes for which they were \ndesigned by him, and by revealing to us his wisdom and \nlove. \n\nAnother objection to language such as the Psalmist so \noften uses, and which is repeated so exultantly by the \nthree youths in their song of praise, is based upon the \nidea of the natural yileness of all created things ; upon \nthe idea that a withering curse was uttered by God over \nall his handiwork, and that no swelling chorus of praise \ncan be upraised, or conceived of as being upraised, from \nthat which in God\'s sight teems with corruption. Such \nan idea had its birth in the morbid imagination of ascetic \nmen who fancied they read in the Bible confirmation of \n\n\n\n12 CHURCH READER EOR LENT. \n\ntheir own degraded estimate of the vileness of all mate- \nrial things. The idea still finds a home in the thoughts \nof men, more particularly of those who have an over- \nstrained notion of the innate vileness of human nature, \n\xe2\x80\x94 a vileness so peculiar that they conceive of it as be- \ning capable of being dispelled, not by any organic inward \nchange resulting from the silent growing into union with \nthe Divine Spirit, but by having ascribed to it a right- \neousness to which it has ever been a stranger. The old \ndevisers of the idea of the utter vileness of matter, and \nthe modern exaggerators of the vileness of human nature, \nhave both agreed in shutting their ears to the voice of \npraise proceeding from every thing that hath breath, and \nto the proclamation of the divine glory from all created \nthings. Both have failed to read, in the story of the fall \nof man, the lesson that the only thing in the world which \ncan destroy the beauty of God\'s works is sin ; that to \nthe sin-dimmed eyes of men, the fairest garden is a \nwilderness ; that when sin is cherished in the heart, and \npractised in the life, the world which discloses only reve- \nlations of beauty and grandeur to pure and loving souls, \nhas its glory veiled, and seems to have thrown across it \nthe dark shadow of death. \n\nThe great verity which all who are so reluctant to take \nupon their lips the words of the Benedicite are struggling \nto grasp, and of which they have such imperfect hold, is \nthis : that the strain of joy and praise to the Lord of all, \nfrom his works, cannot be heard in hearts where sin has \ngained a complete mastery ; cannot be heard where there \nis no moral harmony in the life, where there are no \n\n\n\nBENEDICITE. 13 \n\n\n\nthoughts already vibrating tunefully with the melody of \na redeemed and thankful soul. \n\nIn stating the errors into which it may seem to us that \nour brethren in past or present times have fallen, we \nshould always endeavor to recognize how the errors them- \nselves are but imperfect presentations of truths. \n\nBut the whole subject which this wonderful song brings \nbefore our consideration is one of deep mystery ; is one \nwhich we cannot fully fathom ; is one concerning which, \nwe may ourselves easily err, and as to which we must be \ncontent to patiently wait for fuller light to dawn upon us. \nThere is one utterance of the Apostle Paul, which, if we \nallow it to fasten itself upon our memory, \xe2\x80\x94 if we quietly \nponder over it, and think of it in connection with that \nfuller revelation of knowledge which the hopes of immor- \ntality within us assure us will be granted to us in the \nspiritual home which this our earthly home is a prepara- \ntion for, \xe2\x80\x94 may yield us some insight into the mystery \nwhich in all its fulness surpasses our understanding. The \nwords are these : " The invisible things of God from the \ncreation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by \nthe things that are made." So that, when we look upon \nthe outward world, we are really beholding what God has \ndesigned to be for us a representation of the inner world \nof spirit. He has constituted the visible to be to us the \nsilent teacher of the invisible, to declare to us his divine \nglory. The things we see are so designed as to prepare \nthe human heart for the contemplation of the things un- \nseen, to which they in mystic manner correspond. There \nis not a created thing on earth which has not its arche- \n\n\n\n14 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ntype in the heavens. Nothing we see in valley or on \nmountain, in the blue vault above, among the moving \nclouds, in storm or in sunshine, or on the great and wide \nsea, but has its divine pattern in the heavenly mount. \nThe whole round world is all aglow with the teaching \nimpressed upon it by the word of the Lord. A con- \nsecration rests upon it. The human spirit, reverently \nbeholding the works of the Lord, sees in them all a sac- \nramental token of a Divine Presence within them and \naround them. The very grass which withereth, the very \nflower which fadeth, have, in their fleeting existence, an \noutflow from, and a revelation of, the word of the Lord \nwhich endureth forever. And so to us the natural world \naround us has a ministerial mission. All things fulfil the \nLord\'s word. All are servants of .his, which do his \npleasure. He himself in his own divine teaching, as he \nlived on earth, used them as such. The grass of the \nfield, the birds of the air, the signs of the sky, \xe2\x80\x94 to all \nthese he referred to illustrate the laws of the kingdom \nof heaven. In this morning\'s second lesson, we listened \nto him as he drew lessons regarding the growth of the \nhuman soul in divine love and wisdom, from the myste- \nrious growth of seed scattered over the ground by the \nsower who went forth to do his work. All true knowl- \nedge is of slow and silent growth. The eye of man \ncannot estimate the advances made by any lowly soul \nstriving to do the Lord\'s will, and opening itself to the \nLord\'s teaching, any more than the most watchful eye \ncan discern the slow changes which are undergone before \nthe unquickened seed becomes the ripened corn; but, \n\n\n\nBENEDICITE. 15 \n\n\n\njust as all such changes are patiently watched over by the \nunwearied eye of the Lord, so does he also patiently \nguide the human soul in its upgrowth in knowledge of \nthings divine, in its ripening towards that full fruition \nwhich is accomplished only in the unseen world. \n\nAs we ourselves most worthily praise the Lord by doing \nhis will, and by opening our hearts to his loving inspira- \ntion, so we can understand how the devout servants of \nthe Lord in days that are past, recognizing that his will \nwas done by all created things, spoke of those things \nas offering up perpetual praise to their great Creator. \nThey praised him by doing his will, by obeying his laws, \nby fulfilling the end for which they were created. Rever- \nent souls even in Pagan times discerned the same mystic \ntruth, which they embodied in an expression which has \nbeen handed down to us, \xe2\x80\x94 the music of the spheres ; \nthe music of an unceasing obedience to divine law ; the \nharmony of working together for good. \n\nBut, if we are to be fully conscious of this heavenly \nharmony among the works of the Lord, there must be \nharmony within ourselves. We ourselves must be living \nin obedience to the will of the Lord, to his holy law. \nThe law of self must not reign within us. Our whole life \nmust be consecrated to God. \n\nOh, let us ever seek God\'s aid to enable us to live in \naccordance with his will ! Let us see even in the mystery \nwhich environs his works, \xe2\x80\x94 those works whose laws we \nso dimly comprehend, \xe2\x80\x94 an assurance of the immortality \nthat awaits us. We cannot here uplift the veil of mystery \nwhich surrounds the works of the Lord ; we can at best \n\n\n\n1 6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nbut listen to their chorus of praise : but one of the joys \nof the future life will be, we may be very sure, to enter \nmore fully into that knowledge which is only partially \nrevealed to us here, \xe2\x80\x94 the knowledge of the mystery of \nthe world, which is but part and parcel of the knowledge \nof God. Oh, let us ever strive to grow in divine knowl- \nedge here, so as to make ourselves sure of growth \nyonder, and of a union with the Divine which shall know \nno ending ! \n\n\n\nIII. \n\naCfjtrt Bag of lUnt. \nEFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. \n\n\' REV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nGodly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of. \xe2\x80\x94 \ni Cor. vi. 10. \n\nThe genuine penitent is he who renounces all his sins, \nand would rather die than repeat them. And though all \nreal penitence has not the same degree of intensity nor \nthe same mode of expression, which must vary with nat- \nural temperament and circumstances, yet is it not godly \nsorrow, unless it involve such a sense of guilt, and such a \nhorror and hatred of sin, and such a desire to escape \nfrom it into the condition of a better life, as shall work \nup the spirit of a man to such a pitch of solicitude and \n\n\n\nEFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 17 \n\ntrouble as perchance may never have been occasioned by \nany personal affliction, or any domestic bereavement, or \nany crisis in his earthly fortunes. And these feelings, if \nnot expressed in sighs, and groans, and tears, and loud \ncomplaints, and bitter lamentations, will express them- \nselves in watchings and strivings against the hated evil, \nin humble confession of guilt and ingenuous self-accusa- \ntion, in earnest supplication for God\'s merciful forgive- \nness of all past offences, and grace henceforth to lead a \ngodly, righteous, and sober life to the glory of his holy \nname. For godly sorrow is rational and practical sorrow ; \nand however intense our grief and however boisterous its \nexpression, if it bring not forth these fruits, it is far from \nbeing that " godly sorrow " which "worketh repentance to \nsalvation not to be repented of." \n\nBe it observed, then, that sorrow itself, even godly sor- \nrow, while it worketh repentance, does not constitute re- \npentance. Repentance is the whole volume of duty, of \nwhich godly sorrow is only the titlepage or the preface. \nGodly sorrow is the parent ; repentance is the product. \nAnd what is that repentance of which the apostle speaks, \nbut an effectual turning from sin to righteousness, an en- \ntire reconstruction of life and character, a putting-off of \nthe old man, and a putting-on of the new ; not the electric \nflash which vanishes in the very moment of its manifesta- \ntion, but the morning "light which shineth more and \nmore unto the perfect day; " not the fluctuating mock- \nfire that dances at midnight over the marsh, but the \nsteady flame that burns continually upon the altar before \nthe Lord? \n\n\n\n1 8 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nLet no one imagine that the humiliation of an Ash \nWednesday, the self-crucifixion of a Good Friday, the \npenitential discipline of a whole Lenten season, will suf- \nfice for the salvation of the soul, unless they are followed \nup by works meet for repentance, constituting the habit \nof a new life, and wrought into the very texture of a new \ncharacter. And what a fatal mistake is it, to suppose that \nthe brief compunctions of the death-bed will obliterate \nthe consciousness of guilt, and prepare the sinful soul to \nstand before its Maker ! that the confessions and suppli- \ncations of the last few hours of an ungodly life will atone \nfor the manifold delinquencies of all the past, and avert \nthe just vengeance of Heaven from the everlasting future ! \nOften, alas 1 the tears of the dying are, like those of Esau, \nbut a fruitless shower ; yea, the very rain of Sodom, the \nkindling of an unquenchable fire, the beginning of an \nendless and -immitigable woe. Ahab sorrowed, but did \nnot repent ; and Judas repented, but not to salvation. If \nmere sorrow were -repentance, then were there hope even \nin hell ; and if all repentance were to salvation, then were \nthere mercy for the Devil and his angels. \n\nOh ! let us pray. God to work in us by his Holy Spirit \nsuch a sorrow as shall quench the flames of our lust, and \ndissolve the hills of our pride, and extinguish our thirst of \ncovetousness, and effectually turn the drift of our nature \ntoward righteousness and true holiness. For, as St. Au- \ngustine says, " though we may not be worthy so much as \nto lift up our eyes toward heaven, yet are we worthy to \nweep ourselves blind for our wickedness." But we must \not imagine that our sorrow for sin is to be estimated by \n\n\n\nEFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 19 \n\nthe abundance of our tears, or the frequency of our \nprayers, or the continuance of our fasting, or any other \nform of self-mortification ; but by our active hatred of \nsin, our entire renunciation of all evil practices, and the \nstrenuous warfare we constantly wage against every temp- \ntation to their repetition. " Godly sorrow" produces \n" repentance toward God ; " and repentance toward God \nis the only " repentance to salvation not to be repented \nof." \n\nThe sorrow is not the repentance, but the fountain \nwhence the repentance flows. And the first stream from \nthis fountain, the first act of true repentance, is an ingen- \nuous confession of sin. " He that covereth his sins shall \nnot prosper ; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them \nshall find mercy." But let not our confession be like the \nunlading of a ship to take in a new cargo. Let not the \ndog return to his own vomit again ; and the sow that was \nwashed, to her wallowing in the mire. Let us not come \nhither day by day to weary the ear of our God with the \nacknowledgment of iniquities which we never renounce, \nand afflict our souls with fasting merely to comply with a \nvenerable custom of the Church, and try to dress ourselves \nup in a formal habit of piety against the approaching \nEaster festival ; nor imagine for a moment that by such \nheartless penitence we can ease a burdened conscience, \nor through such hollow observances obtain forgiveness \nof our sins. It is the confessing and forsaking that in- \nsure the mercy, and no confession will avail without the \nforsaking. The confession of sin which is not followed \n\n\n\n20 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nby amendment of life, is like the bleating of the calves \nand the lowing of the oxen that Saul reserved from the \nspoil, enabling God out of our own mouth to condemn \nour imperfect services. If our humiliation before the \nLord lead not to the abandonment of all our wicked ways, \nand the extirpation of his enemies within us, there is still \nno repentance to salvation. Achan must be brought to \njudgment ; the troubler of Israel must be stoned to death \nbefore the congregation. If we regard iniquity in our \nhearts, the Lord will not hear us. If we spare Agag, our \npenitence is no better than Ahab\'s. If we put not away \nthe abominable thing which the Lord hateth, though we \nfast ourselves into skeletons and weep ourselves into \nwater, we are no nearer our salvation than Esau was to the \nrecovery of his bartered birthright and forfeited blessing, \nwhen he found no place of repentance, though he sought \nit carefully with tears. \n\nThere is a sorrow for sin \xe2\x80\x94 have we not all seen it ? \nwhich produces no reformation. So far as it goes, it may \nbe quite sincere : but it is not earnest enough to be \npractical. Purposes are formed, and promises are made, \nwhich are effaced from the mind by the first temptation, \nas the track of the sea-fowl on the strand is obliterated \nby the first wave of the returning tide. Resolutions are \nformally taken and solemnly announced, and covenants \nwith Jehovah are entered into in the presence of all his \npeople, which the cares or the pleasures of the world \nsweep away as quickly as the breeze sweeps the gossamer \nfrom the branch. The seed fell upon the rock, or among \nthe thorns, or by the desert wayside, and so brought forth \n\n\n\nEFFECTUAL REPENTANCE. 21 \n\nno fruit to perfection. These spasms of piety, even if a \nman should die in one of them, have no power to save. \nOf the repentance described by the apostle, they contain \nnot so much as the first genuine element. No real re- \npentance can there be, unless the purpose becomes an \naction, and the action grows into a habit, and the habit \nripens into religious character. \n\nAnd how discouraging is all this to the hope of a death- \nbed repentance ! For against what does the dying sinner \nresolve, but the sins he can never more commit ? and what \navails the resolution he has no longer power to put in \npractice? Can all his tears now obliterate the bitter \nmemory of a long career of crime and folly? Can all \nhis struggles break the chains in which he has been bind- \ning himself for so many years? Can he undo in a day or \nan hour all that he has been doing ever since he left his \ncradle? Can he so suddenly awake from his sleep of \ndeath, and cast away the works of darkness, and put on \nall the armor of righteousness, and crucify the flesh with \nits affections and lusts, and effectually abolish the whole \nbody of sin ? Yet this is what he has to do, and nothing \nless than this is complete repentance. Let him weep as \nwept the wretched Esau, as wept all Israel in Bochim, as \nwept the fugitive king in the ascent of Olivet, as wept the \nbroken-hearted disciple for the denial of his Lord ; but \nwhat avail his tears against the catalogue of his crimes \nwhich conscience now holds up before him ? The offering \nof a contrite heart, even in the mortal hour, God will no \ndoubt accept ; and we would not limit the exercise of His \nmercy, who assured the expiring thief of paradise, and \n\n\n\n2 2 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndied himself to open paradise to every penitent sinner. \nBut where there is no possibility of a practical test, the \ncharacter of the repentance must be extremely doubtful ; \nand he who has lived in impenitence may well die in \ndespair. \n\nFifty years\' experience in frequent dealing with the \nconsciences of dying sinners has made me distrustful of \ndeath-bed repentances ; and of the many I have witnessed, \nfew were more satisfactory than that of a wretched woman \nwho sent for me to come and pray with her in her last \nmoments ; and when I asked her whether she intended \nto forsake her sins and lead a better life, she answered \xe2\x80\x94 \n" If I die, I do ; if I recover, I do not." O my friends, \nhang not your heavenly crowns upon such cobwebs ! De- \nlay your repentance no longer; the hazard is infinite. \nRepent, for the work will soon be impossible, and your \ncondition hopeless. Repent, for a life of persistent sin \nmust issue in unavailing and everlasting sorrow. Repent, \nand show the reality of your repentance, by consecrating \nyourselves, soul and body, to Him who redeemed you by \nthe blood of his cross. During this solemn penitential \nseason, when Heaven is calling upon you so loudly, and \nthe Church in sackcloth and ashes waits to welcome you \nwithin the bond of the holy covenant, come and join her \nchildren in the exercise of a "godly sorrow" which \n"worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of." \n\n\n\nTHE HAUNTING SPECTRE, 23 \n\nIV. \n\njfaurtfi Sag of \xc2\xa3ent \nTHE HAUNTING SPECTRE. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n11 Be sure your sin will find you out." \xe2\x80\x94 Num. xxxii. 23. \n\nA great poet describes the last hours of a certain \nwicked king, on the night before. he went out to his last \nbattle. He pictures him as being haunted by the spectres \nof those whom he had wronged or slain ; and each accus- \ning spirit says, " Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! \ndespair, and die ! " \n\nEvery unforgiven sinner leads a haunted life. There \nare times for the most reckless when the memory of his \nsin " sits heavy on his soul," and comes to him as an \naccusing spectre, saying, " Remember me." You know \nwhat shuts us out from God, \xe2\x80\x94 sin. When we deliber- \nately commit a sin, knowing it to be wrong, then that sin \ncomes between us and God like a curtain, and shuts us \nout from him. We cannot come to God, God will not \ncome to us. There is, as it were, a great gulf fixed ; \nthere is that unrepented \xe2\x80\x94 and therefore unforgiven \xe2\x80\x94 sin, \nbetween us and God, and our very prayers are hindered. \nIt may be an old sin, something done or said long ago, \nand forgotten by you. But, if not repented of, that sin \nremains, and it will be a haunting spectre in your life, \n\n\n\n24 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nand will find you out one day, so that you will be forced \nto cry, "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy ?". \n\nIt may be a sin of long ago, or a sin of yesterday ; \nbut so long as it remains unrepented of, it remains unfor- \ngiven, remains to haunt you. It will stand at your bed- \nside, and, as it were, whisper to you, " Remember me ! " \nThe drunkard who fancies he is leading a gay life, drown- \ning all sorrow in his cups, has his haunting spectre. It \nwill come to him, and say, " Remember me ! Remem- \nber what you were, and what you are. Remember your \nwasted life, your ruined health, your lost character, your \nmournful family." The impure man or woman has a \nhaunting spectre. They may try to think lightly of their \nlost purity, and their tarnished name ; but the day comes \nwhen the sin finds them out, when the spectre stands \nbefore them. It says, " I am the ghost of your old sin. \nRemember me ! " The dishonest man has his haunting \nspectre. The secret act of fraud so cleverly executed, \nnever discovered, that comes back, and haunts the man, \nstands between him and peace, blights his life, and im- \nbitters his pleasure. \n\nMy brethren, is there no such haunting spectre in your \nlives? is there no old sin which you thought dead and \nburied, which comes back to you, and darkens your way \nof life ? Look back even while I speak, O young men, \nand young women : is there no sin which you have never \ntold to your mother, no, not even to your God, and \nwhich still remains to haunt } ou ? Remember, if that sin \nis not repented of, it will haunt you to the grave; yes, \nand beyond the grave ; it will haunt you on the day of \n\n\n\nTHE HAUNTING SPECTRE. 25 \n\njudgment ; it will stand between you and God, between \nyou and pardon. "Be sure your sin will find you out." \nA wise man of old time (Seneca) says, "Let wickedness \nescape the law as it may, it never fails to do itself justice,, \nfor every guilty person is his own hangman." My breth- \nren, if you would have your life free from the haunting \nspectre, if you would get rid of the hateful presence of a \nsin, if you would be free men, no longer dragging a chain \nabout with you like slaves, I say to you, repent you truly \nof your sins : since, as sin shuts us out from God, true \nrepentance brings us back to God through the merits and \nmediation of Jesus Christ. What, then, do I mean by true \nrepentance? Do I mean the fact of feeling sorry for our \nsin? No : sorrow for sin need not be repentance: The \ndrunkard is sorry with a selfish sorrow for the effects of \nhis intemperance. The criminal is sorry for the folly and \ncrime which have brought punishment. The woman \nwho has lost her virtue is sorry that she has forfeited \nwhat cannot be regained. But in all these cases it is not \ngodly sorrow, it is not sorrow for having sinned against \nGod. True repentance has three parts, three distinct \nsteps. Firsts there must be conviction of sin, accom- \npanied by sorrow for sin. When once we see our sin, \nand find out how vile and ugly a thing it is, sorrow will \nfollow as a natural consequence. Secondly, there must \nbe confession of sin to God, \xe2\x80\x94 confession not merely of \nsins generally, but of the special sin or sins of which we \ndesire to repent. Thirdly, there must be a- definite reso- \nlution of amendment, \xe2\x80\x94 a determination to try, by God\'s \nhelp, to do better for the future. These three -parts -make \n\n\n\n26 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nup true repentance. To stop short at being sorry, to stop \nshort at knowing that we have sinned, to stop short at \nmaking a vague resolution to do better, is not to repent. \n\nNext, why should we repent? What should the motive \nbe which leads us back to God? Should it be the fear \nof punishment ; the knowledge that the wages of sin is \ndeath, and that unrepented \xe2\x80\x94 and therefore unforgiven \n\xe2\x80\x94 sin shuts us out of heaven ? No : this might drive the \ncoward to confess his fault, but something higher and \npurer should lead the child of God back to his Father ; \nand this higher and purer influence is love. It is love for \nGod, not fear of his wrath, which should make us penitent. \nIf your child loves you, it will come to you, and acknowl- \nedge its error, not because it fears your punishment, but \nbecause it is grieved at having wounded you. So, if we \nare children of God, our love for him will cause us to feel \nbitter sorrow when we have w r ounded him by our sin. It \nwas love for his father, not misery, or fear of the future, \nwhich brought back the prodigal son. It is the shadow \nof the cross falling on the heart of a sinner, not the \ngleam of the avenging sword, which leads him home in \npenitence. Some time ago a young girl left her mother\'s \nhome, and fell into evil ways. I need not enlarge on \nthe old, sad story. Her mother sought her diligently, \nbut could only discover that she was leading a wicked \nlife in a certain great city. After trying every plan to \nfind her, the mother hit on the expedient of placing her \nown picture in the principal midnight refuge where these \nwomen were accustomed to assemble. For a long time \nthe mother\'s picture hung on the wall, unseen by the \n\n\n\nTHE HAUNTING SPECTRE. 27 \n\neyes for which it was intended. Some passed it by with \na sneer, \xe2\x80\x94 not many, I think ; some looked on it sadly, \nas they thought of their own mother and their lost home. \nOne night the girl was there, and saw her mother\'s pic- \nture. She saw her gentle eyes looking down so pleading- \nly, as though they said, " Come home to me ; " and, like \nthe prodigal, she came to herself, and determined to go \nhome. She found her way back to her cottage home ; and \nas she tremblingly tried the door, it yielded to her touch, \nand she was in her mother\'s arms. When, later, she \nasked her mother how she found an entrance so easily, \nthe mother answered, " I knew you would come back to \nme, and I left the door on the latch." O dear brethren ! \nhave we not a better picture even than a mother\'s, dear \nand blessed though that be? We have the picture of \nJesus Christ on the cross ; his sad eyes look pleadingly \non us, and seem to say, "Come back to me. Return, O \nwanderer, to thy home ! " And if we do return, shall we \nnot find the door of mercy open? Yes, for that door is \nlike the gates of heaven, of which we read "that the \ngates thereof shall not be shut by day ; for there shall \nbe no night there." \n\n\n\n28 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nV. \n\nJFtrst Suntmg in 3Unt. \nTEMPTATION. \n\nREV. H. j. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\n" Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted \nof the devil." \xe2\x80\x94 Matt. iv. i. \n\nNo subject comes home more closely to us than that \nof temptation. We all know, to our cost, its subtle influ- \nence, its mystic power ; so that, if there be one prayer \nmore than another which should be ever on our lips, it \nshould be, " Lead us not into temptation." Let us try to- \nday to analyze briefly the subject of temptation in refer- \nence to the trial of our Lord, and the trial of ourselves. \nJesus was led into the wilderness of the Spirit. Here we \nlearn that God is our Leader into all things which are \ngood for our souls, and that even temptation may be good \nfor us. Jesus went into a desert to make expiation for the \nsins which are committed in society, \xe2\x80\x94 to endure fasting \nfor men\'s luxury, to suffer want for men\'s extravagance. \nHe went into the wilderness immediately after his bap- \ntism ; teaching us thereby that those who are baptized \nshould die from sin, and rise again unto righteousness, \ncontinually mortifying their evil and corrupt affections, \nand daily proceeding in all virtue and godliness of living. \nJesus entered into the wilderness to fast and pray ; and \n\n\n\nTEMPTATION. 29 \n\n\n\nfrom that we learn that it is absolutely necessary for us all \nsometimes to stand aside from the busy crowd, and to \nseek quiet and retirement for prayer and self-examination, \nwithout which our spiritual life must grow feebler and \nfainter till it dies. \n\nNext, we have to ask reverently, Why does God permit \nus to be tempted ? Now, the word temptation has three \nmeanings in the Bible. First, it means a trial of our faith, \nto bring out some hidden virtue ; and so Abraham was \ntempted of God. Secondly, it means a provoking to \nanger ; and thus we tempt God, as it is written, " Your \nfathers tempted me, proved me, and saw my works." \nThirdly, temptation means a leading into sin ; and thus \nwe are tempted of the Devil. God tries us for our good \nin order to strengthen our faith, or to bring forth some \nquality which is dormant in us. The unused limb be- \ncomes weak and tender ; the neglected instrument of \nmusic grows out of tune ; the untouched weapon loses \nits keen edge : so many a man knows nothing of self- \ndenial till God has tried him by a great sorrow. The \nfaith of Abraham was brought out by the temptation to \noffer up his son. The patience of Job was manifested \nwhen he had been tried by the loss of all things. As the \naromatic leaf smells most sweetly when bruised \\ as the \nprecious gem sparkles most highly when cut and polished ; \nas the purest silver is refined seven times in the fire : so \nwe are made perfect through sufferings. Again, God \nsuffers us to be tempted, that we may be watchful. We \nmust prove our armor in the battle ; we must find out \nour weakness ; and thus St. Peter bids us, " Be sober, be \n\n\n\n30 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nvigilant, because your adversary the devil, as a roaring \nlion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour." And \nagain, God suffers us to be tempted that he may one day \ngive us our reward ; since " blessed is the man that endur- \neth temptation, for when he is tried he shall receive the \ncrown of life, which the Lord hath promised to those who \nlove him." \n\nBut we .have to think of a yet greater mystery : Why \ndid God the Father allow his Son to be tempted? Jesus \nwas tempted, we may believe, because, in taking our na- \nture upon him, it was necessary for him to be made like \nunto us in all things, sin only excepted. Since he be- \ncame our Brother, bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, \nhe was tempted even as we all are tempted. By being \ntempted of the Devil, Jesus proved the full force of the \ntrials to which we are subjected ; and thus, fully knowing \nour temptations, he can sympathize to the uttermost with \nthose .who are tempted. And Jesus was tempted to show \nus. how to meet temptation, \xe2\x80\x94 by watching, by fasting, by \nprayer.; not giving place to the Devil for a moment; \nmeeting every temptation with a weapon from God\'s \nword. And, above all, Jesus was tempted in order that, \nby defeating the attacks of Satan, he might break the \nforce of temptation for us, as a billow breaks against a \nrocky shore.; so that, when the great wave of temptation \nrolls towards us, it need not go over our soul, but, strik- \ning against the Rock of Ages, its force is broken. \n\nJesus fasted forty days and forty nights. The number \nforty seems to have had a special mystical meaning. \nThese forty days of Lent are ordained that the faithful \n\n\n\nTEMPTATION. 31 \n\n\n\nmay show forth to the Church and the world the tempta- \ntion and fasting of Jesus, just as they commemorate his \nbirth at Christmas, his death on Good Friday, and his \nresurrection at Easter. But Lent means more than this. \nIt is a special time of discipline and trial, when we should \ngo into spiritual training for the race which is set before \nus ; when, by self-denial (the great want of so many of \nus), by abstinence, by watchfulness and prayer, we may \nsubdue the flesh to the spirit, and fit ourselves for the \nlife-long temptations in the wilderness of this world. I \nask you, my brethren, to make this Lent a reality, a help \nto your spiritual life. Give tip something for Christ\'s sake : \nnothing does our souls so much good as self-denial. Do \nnot follow the sham religion which shuts up a theatre on \nAsh Wednesday, and allows it to be open all the rest of \nLent. Do not follow the sham religion which provides a \ndainty meal of fish on Ash Wednesday, and calls it a \nfast ; but make Lent a real time of discipline, by giving up \nwhat you like best, or doing some duty which you like \nleast. \n\nI think, if we realized the character and power of him \nwho tempted Jesus in the wilderness, and who tempts us, \nwe should use every special means, and every special \nhour, set apart for penitence and discipline. We have \ntoo vague notions as to the character of the Devil. We \ntoo often regard him as a power of evil, an essence, an \ninfluence ; instead of recognizing him as a person, a be- \ning infinitely stronger, more cunning, more swift in move- \nment and execution, than ourselves. We fail to see that \nSatan\'s whole time and energy are occupied in planning \n\n\n\n32 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nour destruction by means of countless agencies, whose \nwork is to shut us out of that heaven where they were \nonce admitted. With such a being for a foe, we dare not \nneglect any means of grace, any spiritual training, any \nmedicine of the soul, however bitter. No new art or \namusement is discovered, no change in our fortunes takes \nplace, but Satan tries to extract from it some new poison, \nsome fresh temptation. The temptations of our Saviour \nwere entirely from without, since in him is no sin : our \ntemptations are both from within and without. They \ncome from the promptings of our nature, from peculiari- \nties of our temperament, constitution, and health \\ from \nthe character of our work, or our associates. \n\nThere is no place nor time free from the dangers of \ntemptation. Jesus was tempted when engaged in prayer \nand fasting ; so in the house of God, at the very altar \nitself, we may meet the tempter. No door locks out our \nthoughts, and no exile can escape from himself. Those \nwhose work is the highest and the noblest are often the \nmost sorely tried ; against such, Satan uses his keenest \nweapons, his most subtle temptations. \n\nMoreover, he suits his attack to the person and the \nopportunity. It was when Jesus was faint with fasting, \nthat Satan appealed to his natural appetite. It was when \nDavid had changed the hardness of warfare for the luxury \nof an idle palace, that the Devil showed him his neigh- \nbor\'s wife. It was when Ahab wandered discontented \nthrough his dominions, that Satan told him how conven- \nient was the vineyard of the Jezreelite. The Devil knows \nwhat we do not know, \xe2\x80\x94 all our weak points. Think not \n\n\n\nLENT IN NINEVEH. 33 \n\nthat he who spared not the Son of God will spare you. \nBut rather use the opportunities given to you, and look \ninto your hearts, consider your ways, find out when and \nhow you are most easily tempted : then fly to Jesus who \nwas tempted ; fly to prayer, to the armory of God\'s Word, \nto the blessed sacrament of love. And so shall we feeble \nfolk be more than conquerors, through Him who for our \nsakes was tempted, and for our sakes triumphed over \ntemptation. \n\n\n\nVI. \n\nJFiftfj Bag of Unit. \nLENT IN NINEVEH. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \nYet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown. \xe2\x80\x94 Jon. iii. 4. \n\nEight centuries before the Incarnation, the proud \nAssyrian capital was at the acme of its glory. Nearly \ntwice as large as London, it was sixty miles in circumfer- \nence, with a population probably of two million and a \nhalf. Greek and Roman writers agree in representing it \nas one of the most splendid and powerful cities the world \never saw, while the Hebrew prophets uniformly denounce \nit as- unsurpassed in profligacy and impiety. At length \nthe cry of violence and blasphemy comes up before the \nLord, and he determines to punish. Long-suffering and \n\n\n\n34 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nplenteous in mercy, however, he will not smite without \nample warning. Another probation he will give the guilty \npopulace, and see if they will not repent when the peal \nof approaching doom rings in their ears. His servant \nJonah, a prophet of Gath-hepher in the land of Zebulon, \nis sent to tell them that in forty days the city shall be \ndestroyed. \n\nNo ordinary event is it the prophet predicts, \xe2\x80\x94 no \ngradual decay, nor slow work of famine, nor swift wing of \npestilence, nor cruelly devouring sword ; but some sud- \nden and overwhelming calamity, which shall leave no \nroom for doubt of the divine agency in its infliction \xe2\x80\x94 an \nearthquake perhaps, an inundation from the Tigris, or a \ntempest of fire and brimstone from heaven. He who can \nendue with omnipotence a drop of malignant dew, a \nbreath of empoisoned air, or the fang of a microscopic \nworm, cannot want means to destroy a people, subvert \nan empire, or desolate a world. Nineveh is to be over- \nthrown, but there is no specification of the manner or \nthe instrument, and these are unknown alike to the \npreacher and his hearers. In vain they listen for some \noverture of mercy; the message is only a message of \nwoe, and the very mysteriousness of the terms gives addi- \ntional terror to the warning. \n\nNone but the infinite God can see the end from the \nbeginning, and fix the date of future judgments. Mer- \ncifully he reveals the purposes of his sovereign justice, \nand calls upon the wicked to behold his uplifted hand, \nand avoid or avert the threatened stroke. It is tender \n\n\n\nLENT IN MNEVEH. 35 \n\npity proclaiming almighty anger, that sinners may repent \nand be saved. Were it four days instead of forty, dismay \nwould paralyze the people, and render them incapable of \nrational repentance. But Jehovah, unwilling that they \nshould perish, grants them this gracious respite. His \nthunder premonishes them of the coming storm, that \nthey may flee to a place of safety. If they repent of \ntheir wickedness, he will repent of his threatening ; if \nnot, he must punish. Forty days is a long time for a \nrighteous God to wait, but a short time for a guilty peo- \nple to pray. Yet who knows what mighty results may \ndepend upon a moment? \n\nThis is the first mission to the heathen, of which we \nhave any record ; and the first missionary is a Hebrew \nprophet, preaching nothing but wrath and ruin. Jonah \nenters the city, and lifts up his voice like a trumpet : \n" Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown." A \ncrowd gathers about him, demanding an explanation of \nthe announcement. He repeats the dread denunciation, \nand hastens on. Every conscience responds to the sen- \ntence. Petrified as by a supernatural awe, they stand \ngazing after the retiring stranger. Through the thronged \nand glittering street he pursues his way, ever and anon \nshouting : " Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be over- \nthrown." The passer-by pauses, turns and looks, but the \nterrible prophet is gone. In a few moments, the same \ndread voice is heard reverberating along some distant \navenue. Now the preacher of doom thunders in the \nmarket-place, or shouts from the broad ramparts of the \ncity ; then the hoarse woe, like the trump of vengeance, \n\n\n\n36 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndescends from the battlements of a lofty tower, or rings \nthrough stately colonnade and richly frescoed hall : " Vet \nforty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.\' \' \n\nIt is night. The hum of business has gone silent. \nThe throngs have left the thoroughfares. Only the \nwatchman paces his solemn round. The city sleeps, but \npleasure wakes in palaces. From a range of lofty win- \ndows flash a thousand lights. From the festive chamber \nrolls the voluptuous swell of music, accompanied with \nthe sound of the light and measured footfall. Beneath \nthe marble wall the prophet stands, and lifts the sepul- \nchral warning : " Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be \noverthrown." The dance pauses, the voice of the viol \nand the flute is hushed, strong hearts are trembling in \ndire dismay, fair young cheeks grow pale with deadly fear, \nand anxious eyes from the windows gaze out into the \nominous night, while far away is heard once more the \nappalling cry: "Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be \noverthrown. " \n\nSuch the preaching : What is the effect? "The people \nbelieved God" \xe2\x80\x94 not Jonah, but God. They lost sight \nof the messenger, in the terrible import of his message. \nThey felt, they knew, that it was divine. Long ago they \nhad heard something of the "Mighty One of Jacob," \nand his wonders in Egypt, and what he did at the Red \nSea, and how he discomfited the host of Amalek, and \nthreshed nations before his chosen, and gave them the \nheritage of the heathen. The dignified reserve and sol- \nemn earnestness of the preacher, his evident disinterested- \n\n\n\nLENT IN NINEVEH. 37 \n\nness and superiority to fear, the perfect confidence with \nwhich he announces the very day of the predicted catas- \ntrophe, and the astonishing report of his own peculiar \ndiscipline preparatory to his present mission, all contrib- \nute to their conviction ; while the consciences of his \nhearers, like the voice of God within them, corroborate \nthe sentence, and assure them it is just. \n\nWith pallid lips they hasten to report the matter to tne \nking. The king calls for the prophet, and hears the ter- \nrific tidings for himself. Trembling, he rises from his \nthrone, and exchanges his royal attire for a robe of sack- \ncloth ; and from his seat in the ashes goes forth the \nauthoritative order, summoning the many thousands of \nAssher to the penitential solemnity. It is a national fast, \nto avert a national judgment. The wickedness is uni- \nversal, the threatening is universal, and universal must be \nthe humiliation. Such abasement for such a purpose, \nthe brainless unbelief of to-day may openly ridicule ; yet \nthis very means may often have averted ; the wrath of \nHeaven, and now perhaps preserves the very breath that \nblasphemes the mercy. \n\nBut when and where was ever another humiliation like \nthis, of a whole people before the Lord ? Beginning in \nthe palace, it descends to the stall. Men, women and \nchildren, of all grades and conditions, take off their \nornaments, and cover themselves with sackcloth, and sit \nin ashes ; and from day to day, they eat no pleasant food, \nnor scarcely moisten their lips with water. And the \nsteed neighs over an empty manger, and the kine low \nin a thousand enclosures, and the sheep and goats go \n\n\n\n38 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nbleating along the avenues ; but all nourishment is de- \nnied them, that they may share the general grief, and \naugment it by their piteous mdans. \n\nAnd to fasting is added fervent prayer. The people \nare idolaters, but well they know that their idols cannot \nsave them. Mightily they cry, both day and night, to the \nliving God, whom they have so grievously offended ; im- \nploring his mercy, that they may not perish in their sins. \nPrayer is the lightning-rod, that diverts from its aim the \ndescending bolt of vengeance ; the hand that grasps the \nlifted sword, and suspends or turns aside the fatal stroke. \nAgain and again, in the Arabian wilderness, the prayer of \none man procured the pardon of all Israel ; shall not the \nunited supplications of this great city obtain its reprieval \nfrom the sentence that has gone forth upon its people ? \n\nAnd, in proof of their sincerity, these sinners turn \nevery one from his evil way. How many of them are \nthoroughly and finally reformed, can be known only from \nthe disclosures of eternity ; but the mercy granted them \nby Him who searcheth the heart, proves the general re- \npentance genuine. For it is amendment of life that \nevinces the sincerity of sorrow for sin, without which \nno formalities of penitence can save from punishment. \nEnough for us to know, that Nineveh was spared nearly \na hundred years after Jonah had predicted her destruc- \ntion in forty days. During that forty days, she kept such \na Lent as the world has seldom or never witnessed ; and \nher flowing tears quenched the wrath of Heaven. She \nturned from her wicked ways, and God turned from his \nterrible purpose. She cried for mercy, and he answered \n\n\n\nLENT IN NINEVEH, 39 \n\nwith pardon. Fearful was the judgment foretold, and \nmarvellous the clemency of its revocation. Great is the \nmercy of God in only threatening, when he might justly \npunish ; greater, in withholding or averting the punish- \nment threatened. \n\nYet what encouragement had Nineveh to hope ? Mercy \nwas no part of the prophet\'s message. It contained not \nso much as a constructive promise of pardon, by an ex- \nhortation to repentance and prayer. It was simply the \nproclamation of doom. But do the people despair? \n"Who can tell," say they, "if he will not repent, and \nturn from his fierce anger, that we perish not?" Yea, \nverily, who can tell? Jonah has said nothing about it, \nbut is he not himself a miracle of mercy? Will not He \nwho heard the voice of his disobedient servant from \nthe depths of the sea, hear our united prayers from the \ndepths of our sorrow? Why send us the message, if not \ninclined to mercy? Why warn us of the danger, if not \ndesirous of our escape? Why delay the doom forty days, \nif not to afford us opportunity of repentance ? And have \nwe not heard of his great forbearance, and frequent for- \ngiveness, and marvellous deliverances, wrought for his \nchosen people ? Who can say that he will not spare us \nalso, when he beholds us prostrate in sackcloth and ashes \nat his feet? Thus they reason; and with this dim and \ndubious hope, they cry mightily for mercy. \n\nBut what a change is here ! A few hours ago, these \nweeping and wailing thousands were all immersed in busi- \nness, in pleasure, and in crime ; courtiers planning their \nfoul intrigues ; sycophants fawning at the feet of power ; \n\n\n\n40 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nmerchants lying over their worthless wares ; blasphemers \nvying in the invention and utterance of new oaths ; bac- \nchanals revelling in shameful excess of lust and wine ; \nyoung men and maidens whirling in the mazes of the \nvoluptuous dance ; the king and his nobles projecting a \npredatory campaign against some remote and unoffending \npeople ; generals marshalling their troops, and soldiers \ngirding on their armor; slaves storing the quiver and \nstringing the bow, burnishing the chariot and harnessing \nthe steed ; robbery, and treachery, and cruelty, and sensu- \nality, stalking blushless in the blaze of noon, or seeking \nsecurity in the shades of night ; and innumerable manu- \nfactured or imaginary divinities invoked as the patrons of \nevery degrading passion, and lauded as the protectors \nof crimes which modern civilization has not yet learned \nto name. Now all is reversed. The king has discarded \nhis embroidered mantle, and the nobles have laid aside \ntheir badges of honor, and fair ladies have taken off their \njewelry, and the warrior has cast away his weapons, and \nthe steed is turned loose from the chariot, and the hum \nof industry is unheard in the street, and trade wrangles \nno more in the mart, and the exchange is an echoless \nsolitude, and the banquet-hall is silent as a cemetery, and \nboisterous mirth has given place to bitter mourning, and \nthe sweet seductive strain has sunk into a wail, and the \nwhole populace sit weeping in penitential sackcloth, and \nthe inarticulate hunger-cries of beasts mingle with the \nprayers of the people, and the voice of the city ascends \nin one vast threnody to God, who graciously hears, and \nrepents him of the threatened evil. \n\n\n\nLENT IN NINEVEH. 41 \n\nWhat a lesson for us, my brethren, is contained in this \nfragment of ancient history ! And how seriously should \nwe ponder our Saviour\'s reference to it in his solemn \nwarning to the Jews ! " The men of Nineveh shall rise \nup in the judgment against this generation, and shall con- \ndemn it ; for they repented at the preaching of Jonas, \nand behold ! a greater than Jonas is here." The words \ninvolve a general principle, applicable in all times and \nplaces. The guilt of impenitence is in proportion to the \nmercy rejected, and those who have been saved by infe- \nrior means will stand forth as witnesses against those who \nneglect the great salvation of the gospel. If the hearers \nof Jesus were more highly favored than those of Jonah, \nyour divine call is fraught with still superior mercy \\ and \nif you repent not under the ministry of grace thus granted \nyou, both Jews and Assyrians will confront you with their \nfearful testimony before the throne of doom. But one \nbrief warning had the Ninevites ; you have had a thou- \nsand. By one of his prophets God spake to them ; he \nhath spoken to you by his beloved Son. No miracle \nattended the prophet\'s ministry \\ heaven and earth have \nattested our divine commission. He uttered no offer, no \nintimation, of mercy; we proclaim to you the infinite \ncompassion of "a Saviour who is Christ the Lord." His \nhearers were all ignorant idolaters ; you know more of \nthe living and true God, than all the heathen millions \nthat ever lived and died. Yet the men of Nineveh re- \npented at the preachmg of Jonah, monarch and menial \nprostrate in the dust, bewailing their wickedness, and \nimploring an unpromised pardon ; while you, many of \n\n\n\n42 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nyou, alas ! remain impenitent under the most gracious \nproclamation of forgiveness ever made to the guilty. \nTherefore the men of Nineveh shall rise up and condemn \nyou in the judgment. Christ hath spoken unto you, and \nye have no cloak for your sin. How will you stand \nbefore the wrath of the Lamb? Better that you had \nlived and died in Nineveh twenty-six centuries ago, even \nthough Jonah had never entered its gates, and Jehovah \nihad never been named within its walls ! \n\n\n\nVII. \n\nStitfj \xc2\xa9ag of 3Lent \nTHE SLEEP OF S/JV. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \nNow it is high: time to awake out of sleep. \xe2\x80\x94 Rom. xiii. 2. \n\nWhat is the sleep which the apostle tells us it is time \nto awake from? Alas, my friends, that the word " sleep " \nshould have to be used in the sense we must here under- \nstand it ! Sleep, most welcome word ! Watch a child \nsleeping at night ; look at its innocent face telling of the \nindwelling innocent soul. Think of the sleep which is \nso grateful to us all when the toil of the day is ended ; \nthe sleep which brings ease and unconsciousness to the \nsufferer on the bed of sickness ; the sleep which comes \nlike a heaven-sent gift to weary and heavy-laden souls \n\n\n\nTHE SLEEP OF SIN. 43 \n\nwhom sorrow and trials have laid low. Ponder for a \nmoment upon the sleep which the good Lord giveth his \nbeloved. Think of the loved ones you yourselves have \nknown, whose eyes you have closed in death, who have \nfallen asleep in Jesus. You will then feel tempted to ask, \nCan there be any other sleep than the sleep of innocence, \nthe sleep of the toil-worn, the sleep of the sufferer, the \nsleep of the sorrowful, the sleep of those who are resting \nforever from earthly labors? Ay, my friends, there is. \nIt is the sleep of sin, the confused and restless sleep into \nwhich all who are willing slaves to sin have fallen. This \nis not a sleep whose ending brings with it light and life. \nIt is a sleep which, if we are not roused from it, has no \nend but death. It is the sleep out of which the apostle \nbids us with warning cry to awake. It is the sleep of \nwhich the Psalmist cried, " Lighten mine eyes, O Lord \nmy God, lest they sleep the sleep of death." It is in- \ndeed the sleep of death, the sleep which overtakes the \nsoul on its way to the dark valley of the shadow of spirit- \nual death. It is ever high time to awake out of such \nsleep. \n\nThe sleep of sin is the sleep of the conscience. Every \nhealthful, wakeful soul is in such relation to the divine \ninfluences which surround us all, as to be able to hear \nthat inner voice, \xe2\x80\x94 that utterance of our inner selves \nwhich is in accord with the divine will. But if the soul \nis in an unhealthy state, \xe2\x80\x94 if it is in a state of moral tor- \npor, \xe2\x80\x94 the inner voice is no longer heard. It is not that \ndivine influences are withdrawn, but it is that the soul in \nits dormant state is unfit to respond to divine promptings. \n\n\n\n44 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nIt has so wandered away from God, that it has ceased to \nbe nourished with the thoughts and inspirations which \nbuild up the divine life within us. The inner eye has \nbecome dull of sight ; the inner ear has become dull of \nhearing. A deathful sleep has overpowered the whole \nsoul. It is a wild, feverish sleep, in which the moral \npulse throbs no longer in rhythmical accord with the \nmelodious undertones which ever make themselves heard \nwithin the souls of all who earnestly press forward along \nthe pathway of the redeemed, but beats in fitful response \nto the cravings of the depraved passions and of the \nperverted will. \n\nThe sleep of sin is a sleep from which it is hard to be \naroused. The soul is lost in its deathly slumber. The \nliving Christian soul possesses a lively faith. Spiritual \nthings are by the faithful soul discerned ; and this discern- \nment is its life, its salvation. But the soul sunk in indif- \nference, in frivolity, in wilful ignorance, in selfishness, is \nlifeless, is lost, because it is in utter unconsciousness of \nthe things of the higher life. If we see a man who is \nnever in any way moved \xe2\x80\x94 as some are even to tearful \nspeechlessness \xe2\x80\x94 when hearing an exquisite melody, we \nsay of him that he has no soul for music. If he is never \nawed by the grandeur of the mountains, if the trees of the \nLord disclose to him in vain their wondrous beauty, if in \nthe moving cloud or the restless sea he never sees any \nthing which induces him to lay aside the thoughts and \ncares of a lower life, we may say of him that he has no \nsoul for the divine beauty of the natural world. And so, \nif a man move through this world with no thought of the \n\n\n\nTHE SLEEP OF SIN. 45 \n\nfuture world, with no faith in things not seen by the bodily \neye, with no concern for the things hoped for by the \nChristian soul; with no enkindled spiritual imagination \nwhich enables him to realize that the Lord is a living \nGod, that the unseen life is a real life, that the spiritual \nworld is a real world in which all who pass away from this \nearth are still alive unto God, \xe2\x80\x94 then surely we may say \nof such a one that he has no soul for the things of eter- \nnity. We may say that his soul is lost in the slumber \nof death to all that concerns the higher life. Heaven \nexists in vain for such a one : his thoughts are never \nturned thitherward. The Lord of heaven is but a name, \nwhich, whenever it appears on the printed page, suggests \nnot the divine and gracious form ever visible to the eye \nof faith. That the saints of heaven are our brethren with \nwhom we may dwell in sweet communion, is a thought \nnever realized. The life of such a one is so bound up \nwith the things of time, that he is dead to the things of \neternity. \n\nAnd this insensibility of the soul has many phases. \nThere are many ways in which the soul may fall into \ndeadly slumber. In one of its phases, it may be called \nthe sleep of the mind, the torpor of the intellectual life. \nIt is manifested by an avowed indifference to all high \nculture, by an expressed disbelief in any necessity for it \xe2\x80\xa2 \nby a persistent resolve never to enter upon the region of \nlofty thought ; by an indifference and a careless contempt, \nwhich, one of our foremost writers has been bold enough \nto assert, are spreading through the bulk of our highest \nsocial class, amongst the high-born and amongst those \n\n\n\n46 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwhom their fathers\' industry and enterprise have raised \nto positions of vast wealth, spreading through them and \ninfluencing their children. Even the great schools to \nwhich the sons of the wealthy resort are not free from \nthis taint of neglect of the higher life of culture. For \nthere \xe2\x80\x94 so the whisper is going round \xe2\x80\x94 boys are allowed \nto initiate themselves into billiards, and betting, and \ngambling, when they ought to be subject only to influ- \nences which shall make them earnest workers in the world \nwhich lies beyond the school. And are there not in- \nstances known to us all, of men of high birth abandoning \nall fine culture to devote their energies to exciting sports, \nand wild gambling, and hurried to early graves by the \nignoble enthusiasm which possessed them? \n\nThe soul may also be sunk in the sleep of selfishness, \n\xe2\x80\x94 the selfishness which manifests itself on the one hand \nin indifference as to others\' welfare, in the desire to use \nothers simply to minister to selfish ends, in the disposi- \ntion to treat servants as human chattels : on the other \nhand, it may be manifested by men of lower rank in the \nsocial scale, possessed by a consuming desire to get on \nin the world, to get money, to get money if they can, \nabove all things to get money, to gain advantages over \ntheir fellows, to rise to power, to add to their pleasures. \nBut whether such selfishness manifests itself in men of \nhigh rank, or of low rank, the prevailing thought in the \nmind of one possessed by it is that his personal welfare \nand the success of his schemes are of infinitely more \nimportance than any thing else in the world. \n\nThe soul, too, may be lost in the sleep of vulgarity, \n\n\n\nTHE SLEEP OF SIN. 47 \n\nwhich is really selfishness in its coarsest form. This is an \naccomplishment which is not monopolized by any one \nsocial class. We see instances of it whenever we see a \ndisplay of pride of birth and position ; whenever we \nsee aristocratic skirts avoiding the mud of plebeianism ; \nwhenever we see professional hands drawn back from \ncontact with hands engaged in trade ; whenever we see \nany shrinking back from association with each other, of \nthose who ought to be knit together in the bonds of \nChristian union. We see manifestations of that blight \nof the soul we call vulgarity, whenever we meet with \nthose who take delight in saying what gives others pain, \nin being rude when it is just as easy to be civil, in crin- \nging to superiors, in being insolent to inferiors in rank. \nI am afraid that we are scarcely conscious how death- \nful this form of selfishness is, how that this vulgarity is \nbut death mingled with our daily life. We are scarcely \nconscious how men of other countries, when they come \namongst us, marvel at the roughness, the surliness, the \ngloomy silence, the absence of the smiling face, which \nthey see in far too many with whom they come into con- \ntact. Oh ! let us cease to cherish this kind of selfishness \nwhich so excites the wonder of our fellow-Christians of \nother countries. Let us always remember our Saviour\'s \ngolden rule. Let us, even in the small things of life, do \nunto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us \nrestrain the tongue which would speak words tending to \ngive pain to others ; let us cultivate gentle courtesy ; let \nus meet our fellow-creatures with a genial smile ; let our \ndemeanor be most courteous when we speak to those \n\n\n\n48 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwhose grade is lower than our own ; let us advance to \nour superiors with a frank and manly fearlessness, free \nfrom all corrupting servility. \n\nThere is yet another sleep in which the soul may be \nlost, \xe2\x80\x94 the sleep of the bigot and the intolerant. Bigotry \nand intolerance are based upon ignorance. It is not \nalways a reproach to be ignorant. It is natural, in a world \nin which men are trained under so many widely differing \ninfluences, that some should grow up thorough strangers \nto the set of ideas with which others have been familiar \nfrom the time they first began to think. We ought always \nto have a thoughtful consideration for those who have \nno opportunity for seeing things as we see them. But \nwhen ignorance becomes aggressive instead of modest, \npresumptuous instead of distrustful in itself, then it be- \ncomes deathful in its character ; it becomes that which \nwe call intolerance and bigotry, that which cannot exist \nalongside of the love of Christ, which when it enters the \nhuman heart constrains it to work no ill to fellow-men. \nOh that none were enslaved to such deathful sleep ! Oh \nthat all so enslaved to it would awake out of it into the \nnobler life of Christian charity ! Oh that in all our \nchurches the ears of the uncharitable and intolerant \ncould from time to time be made to tingle at the sound \nof the reproaches of those who would stir them up to \nenter upon a more brotherly attitude towards the whole \nChristian world ! \n\n\n\nREST NOT HERE. 49 \n\nVIII. \n\nSebcntfj Dag of 2Lent. \nREST NOT HERE. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nArise ye, and depart ; for this is not your rest. \xe2\x80\x94 Mic. ii. 10. \n\nSo speaks the inspired Morasthite " to all Samaria and \nJudah." With odious idolatries and abominable crimes, \nthey have defiled their pleasant heritage ; and the land, \nas if conscious of its dishonor, and taking up the Lord\'s \ncontroversy with his faithless and apostate people, is ready \nto vomit them forth, as something nauseous and intol- \nerable. Severely has the prophet already reproved their \nsins, and plainly foretold their terrible judgment and long \ncaptivity ; and now he seems to see them driven away in \nchains by the cruel conqueror; and while they linger \nweeping around the gates of the temple, the tombs of \ntheir fathers, and the dear ashes of their ruined homes, \nhe cries : " Arise ye, and depart ; for this is not your \nrest." Taking leave of Israel, however, we repeat the \nsummons with a Christian application ; and may God, by \nhis Holy Spirit, mercifully make it effectual to the disen- \nchantment of those who have chosen this delusive world \nas their rest ! \n\n" Arise ye, and depart." The voice of the prophet is \nthe voice of God. His burden is a message from God \n\n\n\n5<3 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nto Israel. He receives the word from God\'s mouth, and \ngives the people warning from him. As the angels came \nto call Lot out of Sodom, so come we to call men out of \nthe world. As the Lord called Abram from Ur and Israel \nfrom Egypt, so now he calls you by the gospel to lay \nhold on the hope that is set before you. In mercy he \npleads with you, and demands \xe2\x80\x94 " Why will ye die ? " \nBy the voice of his Church, by the ordinances of reli- \ngion, by every admonition of providence, while the living \nconscience within you perpetually repeats the call, he is \nsummoning you to arise and depart. \n\nSimon Peter would have built tabernacles upon the \nmount of the transfiguration, and remained there forever. \nThere was some excuse for him, for he was so bewildered \nby the vision of glory that "he wist not what to say." \nBut what are we to think of men, in the full possession of \ntheir rational faculties, enamoured of this inferior scene ? \nHow are we to account for the strange fascination that \nlooks upon the vanities of earth and time as the only real \nand enduring good? How shall we apologize for that \ninordinate attachment to the deceitful possessions, unsub- \nstantial honors, shadowy and evanescent joys, of this poor \nfleeting life, which everywhere meets our observation ; \nwhile heaven opens its gates of pearl, and sends forth \nits angels, to welcome men to "a city of habitation," "a \nhouse not made with hands," " an inheritance undefiled \nthat fadeth not away"? Why should the rational and \nimmortal spirit be diverted from its proper destiny, dragged \ndown from its heavenly throne, enslaved by the vanities \nof sense, and subjected to the degrading tyranny of sin? \n\n\n\nREST NOT HERE. 51 \n\nWhy should the noblest of God\'s creatures fall prostrate \nbefore a golden calf in the very presence of the divine \nglory, while the base desires of the flesh inthrall its lofty \npowers, and the fleeting shadows of time become the \nobjects of its eager pursuit? Redeemed by the precious \nblood of Christ, and endowed with the joint-heirship of \nhis everlasting kingdom, why should you cleave to the \ndust, as if this world were your permanent home, and \nthese delusive joys your highest destiny? " Arise ye, and \ndepart \\ for this is not your rest." \n\nPonder seriously, I pray you, the fact here stated by \nthe prophet. Mistake not the way for the home, the \ncourse for the goal, the sea for the haven, the trial for \nthe reward, the bivouac for the victor\'s banquet, the \nbattle-field for the rest that remaineth to the people of \nGod. "This is not your rest." \n\nHow can you find rest in that which yields no satis- \nfaction? Can material things satisfy a spiritual nature? \nCan perishable things satisfy an immortal creature ? Do \nthe riches, honors and pleasures of this world ever satisfy \nthe soul of man? After all, is there not "left an aching \nvoid the world can never fill"? Why are the world\'s \nvotaries always disappointed and discontented? Because \nthey are always drinking from an empty cup. All earthly \nenjoyments are \n\n"Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the taste, \nBut turn to ashes on the lips." \n\nHow can you find rest in that which affords no tran- \nquillity ? What is this life, but a constant warfare, a con- \n\n\n\n52 CHURCH READER -FOR LENT. \n\ntest in the arena? What a race and scuffle do we see for \nriches ! what a competition for political preference and \nofficial distinction ! Many struggle hard for a mere sub- \nsistence, our very pleasures are purchased with pains and \nperils, and life with most of us is a perpetual agony. Not \nonly one with another have we to contend, but also with \nthe Devil and his angels, and with our own ungovernable \npassions. On such a battle-field, repose is impossible. \n\nHow can you find rest in that which offers no security? \nAccident and danger betide all earthly possessions and \nenjoyments. " Man heapeth up riches, and cannot tell \nwho shall gather them ; " and often they "make to them- \nselves wings, and fly away as an eagle toward heaven.\' \' \nAnd worldly honors are frequently blasted by the very \nbreath that gave them birth ; and all our social enjoy- \nments depend upon a thousand contingencies ; and our \nsweetest domestic pleasures are tender flowers, cut off by \nuntimely frosts ; and by a very uncertain tenure we hold \nthe inestimable blessing of health ; and upon a thread of \ngossamer in the breeze life itself hangs trembling. \n\nHow can you find rest in that which promises no per- \nmanency? The world itself is unstable ; and the fashion \nthereof passeth away ; and its most precious things are \nevanescent as the dew, and fleeting as a summer cloud. \nThrones are falling, empires are dissolving, and nations \nwhirling in the mad vortex of revolution. " One gen- \neration passeth, and another generation cometh." The \nproudest dynasties have gone down to the dust, the might- \niest capitals are buried in their own ruins, and " the very \ntombs lie tenantless of their heroic dwellers." Like \n\n\n\nTHE WATCHMAN\'S WARNING, 53 \n\nautumn leaves, your friends are falling around you. How \nmany of your homes have been despoiled, how many of \nyour hearts broken, by the ravages of death ! \n\n" Friend after friend departs ; \nWho hath not lost a friend ? \nThere is no union here of hearts, \nThat finds not here an end." \n\nAnd will you set up your tabernacle among the tombs, \nand make the charnel-house your palace, and hope for \nhappiness in fellowship with worms ? Oh ! build not \nyour house upon this shifting sand ! Store not up your \ntreasure in this falling castle ! Commit not your eternal \nfortunes to these treacherous winds and waves ! Sleep \nnot carelessly upon the crest of this rumbling and heav- \ning volcano ! Remain not another night within the walls \nof the city over which the fire-storm is gathering ! " Arise \nye, and depart; for this is not your rest." \n\n\n\nIX. \n\n3Efgl)t& Bag of 3Lntt. \nTHE WATCHMAN\'S WARNING. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\nThe watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night. \xe2\x80\x94 Isa. \nxxi. 12. \n\nFrom his lofty watch-tower the prophet gazes over the \nland, and sees that its wickedness is great. He had \n\n\n\n54 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nstood continually on the watch-tower in the daytime, and \nwas set in his watch whole nights. With prophetic eye \nhe looked far off into the future ; and the people asked \nmockingly, " Watchman, what of the night?" And he \ntold them that "the morning cometh, and also the night." \nThe morning of brightness cometh, when the dayspring \nfrom on high should appear, and the true light should \nlighten the Gentiles, and be the glory of God\'s people \nIsrael. But also the night cometh, the night of darkness \nand of despair, the night of vengeance, the night of vain \nremorse, the black night of unrepented, unforgiven sin. \n\nWho is this who is led as a sheep to the slaughter, and \nwho openeth not his mouth? Why do they smite him \nwith their blows ? why do they pierce his hands and his \nfeet? There is darkness over the scene, thick darkness \nover the people: surely "the night cometh." Again the \nscene changes : the watchman beholds afar off a garden, \nfresh and fragrant in the early morning, and sees One \nstanding by an open tomb ; and so he cries, " The morn- \ning cometh." And once more the watchman looks forth, \nand beholds a city, once the joy of the whole earth; and \nhe sees the men who loved darkness better than life, the \nmen whose hands smote him with their blows and pierced \nhis feet and his side, the men who would not hearken \nto the things concerning their peace. And he sees that \nher enemies have cast a trench about the city, and have \ncompassed her on every side. He sees the eagle of the \nheathen standing in the holy place, and the steps of \nthe altar red with the blood of murder ; and so the \nwatchman cries, "The night cometh." \n\n\n\nTHE WATCHMAN\'S WARNING. 55 \n\nBrethren, the Church is set as a watch-tower, and her \npriests as watchmen. This life of ours is a twilight season, \nand the watchman tells us that there comes a brighter \nmorning and a darker night. As in Isaiah\'s time, so now, \nthere are people who ask of us mockingly, " What of the \nnight?" Some, like Pilate, will not wait for an answer; \nothers, like Felix, wait for a more convenient season to \nhear further of the matter. The one class of people \ncomes to church, but not to consult the oracles of God. \nSuch people take the holiest words into their mouths, and \nthink not of their meaning. "What of the night? " they \nask : " what new sin, what new danger, will you de- \nnounce?" And then they go away, the one to his farm, \nanother to his merchandise, and straightway forget what \nmanner of men they are. This is how thousands waste \nthe precious hours of service in God\'s house. Others, \nagain, ask of God\'s ministers, "What of the night?" in \nsheer mockery. "What will this babbler say?" they ask \neach other : " what new terror has he found for the weak \nand superstitious ? All this preaching is a mistake \\ we \ndo not believe what the preacher says, probably he does \nnot believe it himself. We used to take the Bible state- \nments for granted, and to trust to what we heard in \nchurch ; but we are wiser now. We have found that the \nBible can be explained away, and that the church-services \nare only superstition." \n\nSuch is the way of many of our young men and women \nwho have made shipwreck of their faith because they \ndare not face the truth. There are others, too, who ask \nthe question, "What of the night?" as prisoners who wait \n\n\n\n56 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nfor the moment of doom. These are they who have \npractically given up God, who do not pray, who are fast \nbound in the fetters of some besetting sin. " What of the \nnight?" they cry: "when will this wasted, wicked life \npass into the blackness of darkness forever?" But there \nare others who ask the question in all love and sincerity \nand faith, "What of the night? Is the weary time of \nwaiting well-nigh over ? is the hard battle with sin nearly \nended ? is the first streak of the dawn yet visible in the \nsky?" For all, God\'s minister has the answer, "The \nmorning cometh, and also the night." Learn to look \nupon the ministers and stewards of God\'s mysteries as \nhis watchmen ; not as those who must prophesy smooth \nthings, and preach pleasant sermons for you to criticise, \nbut as those who have a message of life or death for all. \nHearken to their warning when they tell you that for you \n" the night cometh," \xe2\x80\x94 the night of death, " when no man \ncan work ; " for there is no work, nor device, nor knowl- \nedge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest. O \ncareless ones, delighting only in the sunshine of to-day, \nand laying up no store for hereafter ! " the night cometh," \n\xe2\x80\x94 the night of old age, the night of poverty, the night \nof sorrow, the night when you shall look back mournfully \ninto the past and find no comfort. O sons and daughters \nwho are joined to an idol, the idol of some besetting sin \nor favorite vice ! for you " the night cometh," \xe2\x80\x94 here the \nnight of unsatisfied desire, of ruined health, of mournful \nmemories, and hereafter the darker night of banishment \nfrom God and exile from heaven. Hear the watchman\'s \nwarning to-day : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nFRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 57 \n\n" Return, O wanderer, to thy home, \n\'Tis madness to delay; \nThere are no pardons in the tomb, \nAnd brief is mercy\'s day. \nReturn, return ! " \n\nHear, too, the welcome message of hope and joy, "The \nmorning cometh." O loving hearts that yearn for Jesus ! \nO sorrowing souls who have borne the cross patiently ! O \nkindly ones who have worked for the great Master ! O \nfeeble ones who have tried hard to climb to Jesus\' knees ! \nfor you "the morning cometh," \xe2\x80\x94 the morning of better \nthings and brighter joys ; the morning when all wrongs \nshall be righted, all mistakes atoned for; the morning \nwhich ends the heart-ache and the pain, the weary waiting \nand the hope deferred ; the morning in Christ\'s presence \nwhich no sorrow can ever darken, and where they can no \nmore say " The night cometh" for there is no night there. \n\n\n\nX. \n\nNtntlj Bag of 3Unt \nFRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nThe fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that winneth souls \nis wise. \xe2\x80\x94 Prov. xi. 30. \n\nOne of the old English divines pronounces the work \nof Christ\'s humblest servant in the conversion of a sinner \n\n\n\n58 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ngreater than that of Alexander in the conquest of the \nworld. Measuring man\'s nature by God\'s revelations, \nwe cannot charge the estimate with extravagance. Such, \nindeed, is the magnitude and importance of this moral \nachievement \xe2\x80\x94 the rescue of a human spirit from the \npower and the peril of sin \xe2\x80\x94 that it finds adequate ex- \npression only in the anthems of heaven and the threnodies \nof hell. It has interested the best of men in every age. \nIt has elicited the sympathies and the energies of angels. \nIt has stirred the Infinite heart and moved the Almighty \narm. It has brought heaven down to earth, veiled the \nglories of the Divinity in human flesh, and led the Prince \nof life to the malefactor\'s tree. For six thousand years \nhas it occupied the chief resources of the heavenly Wis- \ndom, the grandest expedients of the universal Providence, \nand all the ineffable riches of the Love divine. \n\nIn this work, let us never forget, God is the Alpha and \nOmega. With him the process begins and ends. The \nplan is his, the instruments are his, and his alone the \nefficient agency. To effect his benevolent purpose, he \nfounded the Church, inspired the gospel, commissioned \nthe ministry, and instituted and ordained the holy myste- \nries of grace. " We have this treasure in earthen vessels, \nthat the excellency of the power may be of God and not \nof us, that no flesh should glory in his presence." To us \nbelongs the service ; to God redounds the glory. But \nwhat honor equals that of being " workers together with \nhim" \xe2\x80\x94 dressers of his vineyard, reapers of his harvest, \nstewards of his household, messengers of his mercy, \n\n\n\nFRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 59 \n\nthe salutary salt of the earth, the light that illumines the \nworld? Such is the sublime vocation described in the \nproverb, and commended for its excellence and utility : \n"The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life; and he that \nwinneth souls is wise." \n\nWhat means "the fruit of the righteous," but his prayers, \nhis charities, his good examples, the virtues which com- \npose his character and adorn his life, and all the efforts \nand influences by which he shows forth his wisdom in \nwinning souls? To win is to gain by conquest, or to \nattract by kindly persuasives ; and both ideas are com- \nprehended in a version of this golden sentence by one of \nthe early fathers of the Church : " He that sweetly draw- \neth souls to God maketh a holy conquest of them." To \nwin souls, in the best sense, is to bring them to the saving \nknowledge of Jesus, and subjugate them to his gracious \ndominion \xe2\x80\x94 to lead them from error to truth, from sin to \nrighteousness, and from earth to heaven. It is well ex- \npressed in St. Paul\'s apostolic commission to the Gen- \ntiles : \xe2\x80\x94 "to turn them from darkness unto light, and \nfrom the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive \nforgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them that are \nsanctified through faith in Christ." This is the work to \nwhich we are called \xe2\x80\x94 not the clergy alone, but every \nbaptized believer \xe2\x80\x94 to which we were solemnly pledged \nat the font, and to which we often renew our obligations \nat the chancel. And if the military chieftain, or the \naccomplished diplomatist, may be proud to subdue or to \nreconcile the enemies of his country, and add a city or a \n\n\n\n60 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nprovince to its government, how should the soldier and \nservant of Christ rejoice to bring rational and immortal \nspirits, ransomed from the thraldom of sin and the tyran- \nny of Satan, delighted captives, to his Saviour\'s feet ! \nAnd if skilful generalship, or prudent statesmanship, or \nfervid eloquence, or devoted patriotism, may be the means \nof temporal salvation to an oppressed or perilled people, \nhow manifest, in matters of infinitely superior moment, is \nthe truth of the proposition : \xe2\x80\x94 " The fruit of the right- \neous is a tree of life ; and he that winneth souls is wise " ! \n\nMore than two thousand years ago an illustrious philos- \nopher said : \xe2\x80\x94 " There is nothing great on earth but man, \nand nothing great in man but mind." On the missionary \nplatform in New York, an excellent minister of Christ, \nnow half a century in paradise, declared that he who \nwould not, if necessary, travel round the world for the \nsalvation of a soul, had not yet attained the first idea of \nthe soul\'s value. The soul \xe2\x80\x94 how will you compute its \nworth, or by what standard measure its greatness ? Will \nyou estimate it by its nature and origin ? It is the breath \nof God, the inspiration of the Almighty, a copy of the \ndivine excellence, though sadly marred by sin. Will you \nestimate it by its powers and capacities ? The faculties \nof reason, conscience and free will which it possesses, \nwith its keen and peculiar susceptibilities, and its capa- \nbility of indefinite expansion and improvement, place it \nfar above all other products of creative energy with which \nwe are acquainted. Will you estimate it by the duration \nof its being ? The body shall return to its dust, the earth \n\n\n\nFRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS, 6l \n\nshall wax old as doth a garment, and the heavens them- \nselves shall pass away; but the soul, immaterial and \nuncompounded, seems to be constitutionally indissoluble \nand indestructible ; and doubtless, without its Maker\'s \nfiat to the contrary, it must survive all mundane change \nand revolution. Will you estimate it by the cost of its \nredemption? To appreciate that, you must comprehend: \nthe Infinite; you must measure the heights and fathom >. \nthe depths of Godhead ; you must know the eternal bliss - \nand glory which the well-beloved Son had with the Father \nbefore the world was ; and with that bliss and glory you \nmust contrast the shame and suffering of his human life \nand death, with all his inconceivable horror and anguish \nwhen the hand of the Almighty justice " laid on him the \niniquity of us all." Will you estimate it by the struggle \nfor its possession and control? Heaven and hell, dividing \nthe good and evil agencies of earth between them, have \nmaintained for six thousand years an unceasing contest \nover its moral destinies ; the prince of darkness desper- \nately assailing the glorious Champion of its salvation, and \nlegions of accursed spirits from the bottomless pit chal- \nlenging the embattled valor of the sinless sons of God ; \nand the war shall never terminate, nor relax aught of its \nintensity, till Immanuel, "with his own right hand and \nwith his holy arm/\' shall have "gotten himself the vic- \ntory," and put all enemies under his nail-pierced feet \nforever. Will you estimate it by comparison with the \nsplendid and the precious ? What, then, are thrones and \ncrowns and sceptres, the spoils of all conquests, the \ntreasures of all kingdoms, the glory of all- empires, the \n\n\n\n62 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ncollected gems of earth and ocean, with mountains of \ngold and continents of silver? Nay, "what shall it profit \na man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his \nown soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his \nsoul?" \n\n" Behold this midnight glory \xe2\x80\x94 worlds on worlds ! \nAmazing pomp ! Redouble this amaze ; \nTen thousand add ; add twice ten thousand more ; \nThen weigh the whole. One soul outweighs them all, \nAnd calls the astonishing magnificence \nOf unintelligent creation poor ! " \n\nAnd if such is the value of the soul, that worlds acquired \ncould not compensate its loss, nor a material universe \nredeem its forfeiture, how excellent, beyond all power of \nlanguage or of thought, the work of saving the priceless \nthing from destruction, and placing it among the crown- \njewels of the King of kings ! and who so blind and un- \nbelieving as to dissent from the royal statement \xe2\x80\x94 " The \nfruit of the righteous is a tree of life ; and he that winneth \nsouls is wise " ! \n\nBut let us look at the matter in another light. The \nsoul is fallen, guilty, perishing ; and he who rescues and \nrestores it, confers an incalculable and inconceivable ben- \nefit. It is blind, and he opens its eyes ; deaf, and he \nunstops its ears ; dumb, and he sets free its tongue ; sick, \nand he renews its health ; paralyzed, and he restores its \npower; polluted, and he leads it to the cleansing foun- \ntain ; impoverished, and he endows it with the durable \nriches of righteousness ; famishing, and he gives it the \n\n\n\nFRUIT OF THE RIGHTEOUS, 6$ \n\nbread of life and the new wine of the kingdom ; gone \nastray, and he seeks it, and finds it, and brings it back \nrejoicing ; bound in prison, and he breaks its chain, de- \nmolishes its dungeon, and leads it out to daylight and \nliberty ; condemned to death, and he comes with the \nannouncement of pardon, converting the scaffold into a \nthrone, the death-cap into a crown of glory, and the \navenging sword of justice into a royal sceptre of love. \n\nAnd who shall limit the effect of your labor, or trace \nthe blessed influence to an end? In the mountain soli- \ntudes of the North- West, you shall find a spring trickling \ndrop by drop from a rock, and your own foot were suffi- \ncient to arrest the little rill ; but follow its course, and it \nbecomes a brook, a torrent, a mighty river, the highway of \ncommerce and travel for half a continent. A handful \nof wheat, brought from the Levant, and cast into the soil \nof our new world, grew and multiplied ; and the little \nharvest, sown the next year, brought forth an ampler \ncrop ; and so it continued increasing, till whole provinces \nwere stocked with the product, and myriads in Europe \nblessed America for their bread. Thus the beneficent \neffect of faithful Christian labor is an ever-swelling stream \nand an ever-enlarging growth. Your humblest efforts are \nrewarded with richest blessings. The seed you sow in the \nfamily blossoms and bears fruit in the Church. The child \nyou bring to baptism, the youth you prepare for confirma- \ntion, the penitent you lead to holy communion, the delin- \nquent brother you stir up to fresh activity of duty, the \nhabitual transgressor you dissuade from the ruinous error \nof his way, each shall be a means of incalculable good \n\n\n\n64 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nto others, and they again to a greater number, and the \ninfluence shall descend to future generations, while con- \nverts multiply from age to age as the drops of the evening \ndew ; and new missions founded, and new parishes organ- \nized, and new laborers sent into the Lord\'s vineyard, and \nnew zeal and energy developed in every department of \nChristian endeavor, and new hearts by the million trans- \nfused and fired with the ineffable love of Christ, shall \nattest the wisdom of righteousness and the excellence of \nits fruitage. \n\nAnd who shall say to what extent you thus affect the \nhappiness of the universe \xe2\x80\x94 what tides of sweet and holy \nemotion you send through myriads of regenerate human \nhearts \xe2\x80\x94 what peace passing all understanding \xe2\x80\x94 what joy \nunspeakable and full of glory; and how the kindling rap- \nture swells and circulates throughout the Church below, \ntill it overflows in anthems, and rolls echoing up to heaven, \ngladdening the angels of God ; and as the miracles of \ngrace multiply with years, and harvest after harvest is \ngathered into the garner, with every fresh achievement of \nredeeming love, the soul that was so heavy in Gethsemane \nis satisfied with the fruit of its travail, and the heart that \nquivered upon the point of a soldier\'s spear experiences \na thrill of compensatory bliss which naught but Infinite \nbenevolence can know ; and so all heaven unites with all \nthat is heavenly on earth, in witnessing to the precious \nfruit of righteousness, and the transcendent wisdom of \nwinning souls ! \n\n\n\nSELF-SUBJECTION. 65 \n\nXL \n\nUentjj Bag of 3Lent. \nSELF-SUBJECTION. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \n\nI keep under my body, and bring it into subjection : lest that by any \nmeans, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. \xe2\x80\x94 \n1 Cor. ix. 27. \n\nA very homely Northern farmer whom I used to know \nwas once speaking of the difference between two kinds of \npreaching he was accustomed to listen to. Some ser- \nmons, he said, were preached at the congregation : in \nothers, the preacher seemed always to include himself \namongst his listeners, \xe2\x80\x94 seemed always to manifest the \nconsciousness of the necessity of himself taking heed to \nhis ways, lest his footsteps should slide. \n\nThe apostolic exemplar of all such lowly- minded \npreaching of the latter kind is St. Paul. His utterances \nare characterized by no lofty pride. This very Epistle to \nthe Corinthians is a wonderful instance of self-abasement. \nHe speaks of himself as having been chosen by God as \none of the foolish things of the world, as one of the weak \nthings of the world, as one of the base things of the world, \nas one of the things which are despised ; as having been \nso chosen to confound the things that are wise and the \nthings that are mighty. When he came amongst his \n\n\n\n66 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nbrethren, to preach unto them Christ crucified, he came \nnot with excellency of speech or wisdom, but he came in \nweakness, and in fear, and in much trembling. Though \nhe preached the gospel, he had nothing to glory in, he \nsaid. He rebuked those who thought to make much of \nhim, and who expressed each of them their allegiance \nto him in the words, " I am of Paul." He, Paul, was \n^nothing : God was every thing. He, Paul, must decrease \n;in their esteem, and Christ must increase. Such of them \nas had spiritually discerned the things of the Spirit of \nGod were God\'s husbandry, not his ; they were Christ\'s, \nand Christ was God\'s. If his words seemed at any time \nto call attention to himself as one to be looked up to as \n.a guide, they were immediately qualified by others which \nshowed that what he really preached was a " looking unto \nJesus." If he said, "Be ye followers of me," he at once \nadded, " as I also am of Christ." \n\nAnd the burthen of all his preaching was, " Christ \ncrucified." Does the import of these words ever really \npossess our souls ? Do I and you grasp the idea underly- \ning them.? and, having grasped it, do we try to incarnate \nit in our very lives? Christ crucified ! The humanity of \nChrist glorified ! but how? By finishing the work the \nFather gave him to do, \xe2\x80\x94 by finishing it on the cross. \nThe kumanity of Christ sanctified! but how? By a \ndeath of shame and torture. The humanity of Christ \nmade perfect! but how? By suffering. The humanity \nof Christ sacrificed, made holy ! but where ? On the \ncross. The humanity of Christ made evermore divine ! \nbut how? How but by lowliness and toil and suffering, \n\n\n\nSELF-SUBJECTION. 67 \n\nby the lowliness and suffering of a despised and rejected \nlife, which ended in the death on the cross of Calvary. \nThis is what is meant by "Christ crucified." \n\nBut "preaching Christ crucified," \xe2\x80\x94 what is that? what \nwas it that St. Paul preached both to himself and to \nothers? what was it in effect but this, that just as Christ\'s \nhumanity was glorified, sanctified, made perfect, sacrificed, \nmade divine, by suffering life-long and ending on the \ncross, so was the human nature of Paul himself, and of \nthose to whom he ministered, to be glorified, sanctified, \nmade perfect, sacrificed, made divine, by being fixed to \nthe cross of earthly suffering. This St. Paul was ever \npreaching. Necessity was laid upon him to preach it. \n" Woe unto me," he said, " if I preach it not." He was \never preaching that baptism into Jesus Christ was baptism \ninto his death, \xe2\x80\x94 was the baptism of suffering ; that walk- \ning in newness of life was not possible for man unless \nthere had been submission to the discipline of the cross ; \nthat the likeness of the resurrection could not be mani- \nfested in humanity, unless there had been shown forth \nwhat was typified in the death of Christ, unless there \nhad been a crucifying of the old unsanctified nature. By \ndeath alone of the unregenerate nature, can man be made \nfree from sin. By thus dying, can it alone be said that \nwe live. By thus being dead with Christ, can we be \nassured that we live with him, \xe2\x80\x94 live with him unto God, \nlive with him the divine life of union with the Father. \n\nAnd this, my friends, is that teaching of the cross \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat gospel of the cross \xe2\x80\x94 commenced by our Lord him- \nself when he said, " If any man will come after me, let \n\n\n\n68 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhim deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me." \nThis is the teaching thus commenced by our Lord, and \never on St. Paul\'s lips. This is the teaching underlying \nhis constant phrase, \xe2\x80\x94 "the preaching of Christ crucified." \nAnd this teaching is at this Lenten season brought be- \nfore us in the selections from the Church\'s sacred writings, \nwhich we speak of as the Epistles and Gospels. Here we \nsee our Lord himself taking up the cross of bodily morti- \nfication and fasting. And if the cross of fasting is to be \npreached by a human voice, it must be preached as St. \nPaul preached. His preaching ever had reference to his \nown experience. All preaching of the cross must be such \nas was his. It is not for a preacher to say to those to \nwhom he ministers, " My brethren, now is the time to vary \nthe usual course of your daily lives by a little fasting; \nnow is the time to abstain from meats and delicacies ; now \nis the time to deny the flesh its cravings ; now is the time \nto restrain the pleasures of sense ; now is the time to have \nquiet fish-dinners instead of the usual rich fare." St. Paul \nnever preached the cross of self-denial and abstinence in \nthis way. If he laid a burden upon any one, it was upon \nhimself. It was himself that he pledged to a life of self- \ndenial. It was his own body that he kept under \xe2\x80\x94 \nbrought into subjection to the spirit. He speaks of him- \nself and his brethren in the ministry as being constrained \nto approve themselves " as the ministers of God, in much \npatience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in \nstripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in watch- \nings, in fastings." And we who to-day preach the gospel \nof the cross must preach it as he preached it, \xe2\x80\x94 must \n\n\n\nSELF-SUBJECTION. 69 \n\npreach it by pointing to the divine example of Christ, by \ntrusting to the power of Christ himself to stir up all holy \ndesires in the souls who draw nigh to him, and to whom \nhe draws nigh in loving union ; and by showing forth in \nour own lives that the example of his self-denial and sub- \nmission to the cross of suffering has not been presented \nto us in vain. The divine secret of the gospel of the \ncross is not made known by formally announcing that it is \na duty for men on certain days, or during certain seasons, \nto fast. It must be left to Christ himself to whisper the \ndivine secret of the daily cross to the humble soul yearn- \ning for a closer union with God, longing to grow in true \nspiritual life, and willing to submit to every chastening \ndiscipline, that so the inward spirit may rise to diviner life. \nChrist has ever been whispering the divine secrets of \nthe heavenly life into the souls of all the earnest and \ndevout. Self-denial and suffering have not been shunned \nby those who have borne his name, and who have been \ntransformed into his divine likeness. Many there have \nbeen, who, like the Apostle Paul, could say that they were \n" always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord \nJesus ; " that they were for Jesus\' sake always being " de- \nlivered unto death." The growth of the Christian soul \nis a great mystery. But this we know of it, that it is a \ngrowth which goes on forever, and that it has to begin \nwhile the soul is still in union with the body. And while \nit is so united, it may be said of it that it must increase, \nwhile the body must decrease. Oh ! it dawns upon every \nhuman soul after it has entered upon the life of union \nwith Christ, that such life means a life of submission to \n\n\n\n70 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe cross of Christ. It means other things too ; but sub- \nmission to the discipline of the cross is an essential ele- \nment, The soul finds, too, that if the pleasures of life \noccupy all its thoughts ; if the desires of the flesh are ever \nencouraged to assert themselves ; if taking life easily, eat- \ning and drinking and being merry, are allowed to become \nthe chief concerns, \xe2\x80\x94 the soul finds, that, if it thus gives \nthe body the start in the race of life, itself will never \nobtain the heavenly prize. It finds that if it is to strive \nsuccessfully for the mastery, if it is to obtain an incor- \nruptible crown, it will only do so by keeping under con- \ntrol the body, and all its desires and earthly longings ; by \nbringing it into subjection to the higher life of the spirit. \nThis is the secret which is revealed to all earnest souls \nstriving for closer union with God. This is the secret of \nthe Lord which is ever with those whose hearts are pos- \nsessed with a desire to work out their salvation with fear \nand trembling. This is the law of the inward man, the \nlaw of the hidden soul, which was revealed to St. Paul, \nand which will be revealed more fully to me and to you, \nif we strive as he strove to live the life of the crucified \nOne. But it will be forever unintelligible to us if we \nsimply hear it spoken in human words. Its meaning will \nnot dawn upon us until we hear it uttered to us by the \nstill small voice of the Divine Whisperer to human souls. \nSt. Paul\'s preaching of Christ crucified being me crucified \nand you crucified ; being the glorification, the sanctifi- \ncation, the making perfect, the sacrifice, the becoming \ndivine, of the human nature which we share with Christ, \nso that it may be exalted into union with his divine \n\n\n\nLEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 7.1 \n\nnature, \xe2\x80\x94 this will be words, mere words, sounds, mere \nempty sounds, to me and to you, unless it is borne to our \nsouls upon the breath of the Divine One, who is ever \nyearning to become one with us, so that we may become \none with him. \n\n\n\nXII. \n\nSeconti Suntiag m Ernt. \nLEA VEN OF THE KINGDOM. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nThe kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, \nand hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened. \xe2\x80\x94 Matt. \nxiii. 33. \n\nFrequently, in Holy Scripture, the same figure of \nspeech serves different purposes ; a metaphor or a simile \nbeing employed to express things quite dissimilar, or \neven opposite in their nature. The lamb stands for both \nfoolish timidity and divine gentleness. The serpent de- \nnotes either despicable craftiness or commendable wis- \ndom. The lion, which represents the cruel tyranny of \nSatan, is emblematical also of the royal dignity of Christ. \nAnd wine symbolizes, not only the wrath of Almighty \nGod, but with equal propriety the joy and blessedness \nflowing from his love. So leaven typifies, on the one \nhand, human malice and wickedness, corrupt teaching, \n\n\n\n72 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nand hypocritical pretension ; and on the other, as in this \nfine parable of our Lord, the diffusive and regenerative \npower of the Christian faith. \n\nThe chief point of comparison, you will observe, lies \nin that quality of the leaven, resulting from its affinity for \nthe meal, by which it moves the mass and imparts its own \nnature to every particle. Christ first quickened his apos- \ntles, endowed them with his own Spirit, and sent them to \npreach the gospel of the kingdom in all the world and to \nevery creature. From them the gracious influence passed \nover to others, producing in individuals and communities \nthat salutary ferment which resulted in new hearts, new \nhabits, new characters, and new relations to God. The \nsubjects of this spiritual renovation, organized into a soci- \nety, with ministry and sacraments ordained by Christ him- \nself, were " a peculiar people, zealous of good works." \nAnd every soul saved by their agency became an instru- \nment in the salvation of others, diffusing the original \nblessing over the earth, and sending it down the ages. \n\nAnd let us bear in mind the fact that the leaven is not \nfound in the meal, but placed there \xe2\x80\x94 a foreign agent, \nbrought to supply a want in the mass to be leavened. \nAnd thus the gospel of our salvation is not the manifesta- \ntion of a power already existing and known in the world, \nbut a new power brought down from heaven ; not a hu- \nman philosophy evolved, but a divine revelation imparted ; \nnot the product of man\'s genius, but the embodiment \nof the manifold wisdom of God ; not the development of \nthe better parts of our nature, but a quickening principle \n\n\n\nLEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 73 \n\ninfused into the paralyzed and death-stricken spirit ; not \nthe smouldering spark amidst the ashes fanned into a \nflame, but a live coal taken with the tongs from the altar, \npurifying the heart of the sinner while it hallows the lips \nof the prophet ; not the rallying of all surviving energies \naround the original centre of life in the moribund soul, \nbut the breath of God going forth over the valley of dry \nbones, till the multitudinous dead tremble into a living \narmy of the Lord. \n\nBut is there no human agency in the process? Very \nnaturally the parable speaks of a woman, because the \nmixing of dough and the baking of bread are ordinarily \na woman\'s work. Yet, without unwarrantable allegorizing, \nwe may see in this woman the Church, which in Holy \nScripture is frequently spoken of as a woman, a virgin, \nthe bride of Christ, and the mother of saints. And is \nnot the Church, with her ministries and sacraments, the \norgan through which God manifests his truth and grace \nfor the salvation of men \xe2\x80\x94 the channel through which he \nconveys his Holy Spirit to the conscience and the heart, \nregenerating, purifying and transforming? Where and \nwhen were sinners ever brought from darkness to light, \nfrom the power of Satan to God, without the agency \xe2\x80\x94 \nconscious or unconscious \xe2\x80\x94 direct or indirect \xe2\x80\x94 of the \nChurch ? For this very purpose the Church was organ- \nized, the apostles were commissioned, and the mysteries \nof grace were instituted. For this purpose the Holy \nSpirit has taken up his abode im the Church, to remain \nwith her forever, making her indeed the salt of the earth \nand the light of the world.. For. this he has transfused \n\n\n\n74 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nher- system with his own vital energy, inspired her clergy \nwith his own heavenly charity, and fired many of her \nlaity with a self-exhausting zeal, enabling her to mingle a \npure and noble leaven with the corrupt mass of humanity \nfor the effectual leavening of the lump. \n\nIt is observable also, that the leaven is said to be, not \nmerely mixed with the meal, but hidden in it. And this \nsuggests the important fact, that the process of grace is \nsecret, silent and gradual ; working outward from within ; \nbeginning in the invisible and spiritual world, but effecting \nin due time a thorough change in the external and visible. \n"The kingdom of heaven is within you," and " cometh \nnot with observation. " The divine leaven is a hidden \npower. The princes of this world knew it not, neither \ndid its philosophers understand the mystery. The heath- \nen writers in the early ages of Christianity betray an utter \nignorance of what was going on under the surface of \nsocial life around them. Little thought the haughty mas- \nters of the world that their very catacombs contained a \nweakness stronger than their strength, a folly wiser than \ntheir wisdom, a patience more enduring than their cruelty, \na gentleness destined to outlast and vanquish their vio- \nlence, a poverty which should enrich the nations beyond \nall their vaunted affluence, a humility that must sit en- \nthroned above the wreck of their demolished power and \nsplendor. All were quite unconscious of that mysterious \nforce which was slowly but surely undermining their whole \nsystem of idolatry, and ready to subvert all their cher- \nished institutions, till Christianity planted her feet upon \nthe steps of the throne and grasped the sceptre of the \n\n\n\n\n\n\nLEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 75 \n\nCaesars. None of the sages of those times, the far-seeing \nstatesmen, nor the most sagacious of the emperors, ever \nrecognized this divine agency, or dreamed of the irresisti- \nble energy which it embodied, till they found it upheaving \nthe whole mass, permeating and influencing every thing, \neven to the remotest limits of the empire. \n\nNor is this so very wonderful, when we consider the \napparent insignificance of the means employed, and their \nmanifest inadequacy of themselves to the accomplishment \nof so grand a result. The woman has no choice wines, \nnor rich cordials, nor strong chemicals, nor mysterious \nmachinery \xe2\x80\x94 nothing but a little fermented dough. Shall \nthis make the whole three measures of meal a light and \nwholesome substance, fit for the palates of princes and \nthe table of the king? "What will this babbler say?" \nWhat will these fishermen, publicans, tent-makers, do? \nWhat is to be expected from this new fanaticism, this \nmoon-stricken madness, but disastrous failure and ruin? \nIs not the system utterly unphilosophical, and the sect \neverywhere spoken against, despised at Jerusalem, ridi- \nculed at Antioch, laughed to scorn at Athens, treated as \nstark insanity in Rome, while the whole power of the em- \npire is pledged to its overthrow? So thought the world \nof nascent Christianity. And still, to the worldly philoso- \npher, to the rationalistic and unspiritual man, the means \nwhich God employs for the salvation of souls seem most \nunlikely, if not utterly inadequate and contemptible. \nWhat to him is the Bible, but an old book, which may or \nmay not be true, to be placed upon the same shelf with \nLivy, Josephus, and the Mussulman\'s Koran? and what \n\n\n\n76 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nits teachings, better than those of Plato, Confucius, and \nZoroaster? and what its miracles, more than the mon- \nstrous myths of the Pagans, the pious tricks of the Jesuits, \nor the blasphemous travesties of modern spiritualism? \nWhat to him is the Holy Ghost, but the simple personifi- \ncation of good influences? and his inspiration, but the \nelevation of human genius? and his quickening and trans- \nforming power, but the natural development or habitual \nculture of the best and noblest in man? And what to \nhim is the Christian saint, but one who practises the pur- \nest morality from the highest motives ? and the Christian \nChurch, but a mere human institution, with no express \ndivine warrant or sanction? and the Christian ministry, \nbut simply a profession, with no better aim or function \nthan that of medicine or that of law? and the Christian \nsacraments, but bare ceremonial shows to make an im- \npression upon the imagination, if not worthless signs and \nsymbols of fanciful unrealities ? So low, indeed, are these \ndivinely ordained agencies estimated, that men refuse to \nrecognize the civilization and culture, the devotion and \nvirtue, the liberty and affluence, everywhere surrounding \nthem, adorning their own condition, and blessing their \ndomestic estate, as in any manner or measure the effect \nof the grace of God. They eat of the bread and ac- \nknowledge its excellence, but deny the efficacy of the \nleaven. \n\nYet the change is wrought, and the change is radical, \nand in due time it shall be manifest and all-pervading. \nIs not this the prophecy of the parable? The entire \nmass of meal is ultimately leavened. Three measures \n\n\n\nLEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 77 \n\nare mentioned, because that was about the quantity taken \nfor an ordinary family baking. Three measures made one \nephah, which was just what Abraham and Gideon each \nprepared for his angelic guest. But some find here a \nmystical reference to the three chief faculties of our spir- \nitual nature \xe2\x80\x94 the intellectual, the emotional, and the \nvolitional ; others, to the three main elements of our \ncomplex personality \xe2\x80\x94 the soma, the psyche, and the \npneuma ; others again, to the three post-diluvian pro- \ngenitors of the human race \xe2\x80\x94 Shem, Ham, and Japheth ; \nand others still, to the three great divisions of the globe \nknown when our Lord uttered the parable \xe2\x80\x94 Asia, Africa, \nand Europe. These theories may be more fanciful than \nreal, and more ingenious than rational ; be that as it may, \nthe whole mass is leavened \xe2\x80\x94 all the faculties of our \nnature, all the elements of our being, all the divisions of \nour race, all the sections of our world. Grace triumphs \nover nature, and humanity is renovated and redeemed. \nAs the leaven makes the solid lump light, porous and \nspongy, penetrating it throughout with innumerable small \ncavities, by which the heat obtains access to every por- \ntion, as is necessary to the perfect baking of the bread ; \nso the truth and grace of God in the gospel of the king- \ndom affect the human recipient in every faculty and ele- \nment of his nature, rendering him susceptible to every \nworthy and beneficent influence, creating him anew in \nChrist Jesus unto righteousness and true holiness. And \nas the leaven in the meal manifests its presence by its \noperation and effect ; so does this divine agency in the \nChurch, by the regeneration of individual character and \n\n\n\n78 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe moral transformation of society. None of us needs \na professional baker to tell him which is leavened and \nwhich unleavened bread ; and may we not as readily \ndiscern in general between the righteous and the wicked, \nbetween the subjects and the enemies of the kingdom? \nWhatever is human is changed and transformed by the \nwork of the woman and the contact of the leaven. All \nthe distinctions of race and country, rank and culture, \nclime and custom, age and occupation, yield to the \nheavenly influence, and find the gospel of Christ the sav- \ning power of God. But what a marvel, unprcedented and \nunparalleled in history, have we in this glorious achieve- \nment \xe2\x80\x94 a crucified carpenter displacing the Jupiter of \nthe Capitol, and triumphing over the superstitions of all \nnations \xe2\x80\x94 a Jew upon a gibbet worshipped by the whole \nworld, and that worship enduring and increasing through \nthe ages ! What deified emperor has held his temple, \nhis statue, or even his tomb? Where is all that mighty \npopulation of gods once created by human adulation? \nTheir monuments have vanished, and their dust cannot \nbe found. But Jesus of Nazareth, crowned with thorns, \nstill reigns upon his cross. By crucifixion having de- \nscended lower than death, he makes his very ignominy \nthe fountain of his glory, and his vanquished enemies \nprophesy the universality and eternity of his empire. \nThe day is coming \xe2\x80\x94 and who knows what convulsions, \nand revolutions, and amazing providences, and unprece- \ndented miracles of power and grace, may hasten its ad- \nvent? when the knowledge of the Lord shall fill the earth \nas the waters cover the sea, and the many kingdoms of \n\n\n\nLEAVEN OF THE KINGDOM. 79 \n\nthis world shall become the one kingdom of Christ, who \nmust reign for ever and ever. \n\nBut as there are certain conditions necessary to the \neffectual operation of the leaven in the meal, so are there \nwell-known conditions on which depends the power of \nthe kingdom of heaven in the salvation of the human \nsoul. As the leaven will not work well in either too high \nor too low a temperature, so the process of divine grace \nthrough the gospel may be prevented by fiery fanaticism \nor obstructed by frigid indifference. Whether an individ- \nual or a community is to be wrought upon, there must be \nno corruption of the leaven by any foreign or unfriendly \nadmixture \xe2\x80\x94 no heresy mingled with the apostolic faith \n\xe2\x80\x94 no human theory, nor philosophical speculation, nor \nscience falsely so called, wrought into the system of the \nChurch \xe2\x80\x94 no new discoveries, developments, inventions, \nor improvements, to mar the influence or counteract the \nenergy of that which was perfect at the first and will be \nperfect to the last. And there must be a due conjunction \nof wisdom, charity and godly zeal on the part of the \nhuman agency employed ; with susceptibility, docility and \nhumility in the subject \xe2\x80\x94 a candid mind, a contrite heart, \na practical application of the truth, and fervent prayer for \nheavenly aid. If you oppose the gospel, resist the Holy \nSpirit, and reject the counsel of God against yourselves \\ \nif you come to church for the gratification of your taste, \nfor the satisfaction of your social feelings, from the desire \nof conformity to public custom, or in a spirit of captious \nor sceptical criticism ; if you tread the Lord\'s courts, and \ncompass his altars, and listen to his word, full of pride \n\n\n\n80 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nand vanity, envy and jealousy, malice and bitterness, am- \nbition and covetousness, or any evil temper or unholy \nprinciple ; oh ! there is not an angel of God that with all \nhis wisdom could instruct you, with all his reason convince \nyou, with all his eloquence persuade you, with all his \nheavenly charity move and melt and mould the sinful \nheart. You must be ready to receive the blessing ; you \nmust appropriate the gift by faith in the Divine Giver ; \nyou must put away all your evil practices, and deny all \nyour evil passions \xe2\x80\x94 whatever is incompatible with the \nkingdom of grace, or disqualifying for the kingdom of \nglory \xe2\x80\x94 and receive with meekness the ingrafted word, \nw T hich is able to save the soul \xe2\x80\x94 which, with a power \nmightier than miracle, shall cleanse the leper, cast out the \ndemon, and quicken the dead in trespasses and sins. \nAnd if you would see the Redeemer\'s kingdom prosper \naround you, as well as realize its saving power within you ; \nif you would bring the King\'s enemies, subdued and \nreconciled, to his feet, and add gems to his diadem of \nmany crowns ; you must devote yourselves, soul and body, \na living sacrifice, upon his altar, who gave himself a ran- \nsom for you upon the cross. And thus will you prove, \nby the increasing power and purity of the Church, by the \ntriumph of truth and holiness over error and wickedness, \nby the rallying of faithful hearts animated with a divine \nardor around Immanuel\'s banner, by myriads of blood- \nwashed saints tranfused with the love of Jesus and hasten- \ning to their immortal home, that " the kingdom of heaven \nis like leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three \nmeasures of meal, till the whole was leavened." \n\n\n\nTHE PURIFYING HOPE. 81 \n\nXIII. \n\nlEIefjmtfj Bag of Eent. \n77/^ PURIFYING HOPE. \n\nREV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. - \n\nAnd every man that hath this hope in Him puiifieth himself, even as \nHe is pure. \xe2\x80\x94 i John iii. 3. \n\nThat is a very remarkable "and" with which this \nverse begins. The apostle has just been touching the \nvery heights of devout contemplation, soaring away up \ninto dim regions where it is very hard to follow : " We \nshall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." \n\nAnd now, without a pause, and linking his thoughts \ntogether by a simple " and," he passes from the unim- \naginable splendors of the beatific vision to the plainest \npractical talk. Mysticism has often soared so high above \nthe earth that it has forgotten to preach righteousness, \nand therein has been its weak point. But here is the \nmost mystical teacher of the New Testament insisting on \nplain morality as vehemently as his friend James could \nhave done. \n\nThe combination is very remarkable. Like the eagle \nhe rises ; and like the eagle, with the impetus gained from \nhis height, he drops right down on the earth beneath ! \n\nAnd that is not only a characteristic of St. John\'s teach- \ning, but it is a characteristic of all the New-Testament \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nmorality. Its highest revelations are intensely practical. \nIts light is at once set to work, like the sunshine that \ncomes ninety millions of miles in order to make the little \ndaisies open their crimson-tipped petals ; so the profound- \nest things that the Bible has to say are said to you and \nme, not that we may know only, but that knowing we \nmay do, and do because we are. \n\nSo John here : " We shall be like him, for we shall see \nhim as he is. And " (a simple coupling-iron for two \nsuch thoughts) " every man that hath this hope in him ? " \n\xe2\x80\x94 that is, in Christ ; not in himself, as we sometimes read \nit, \xe2\x80\x94 " every man that hath this hope/\' founded on Christ, \n" purifies himself, even as he is pure." \n\nThe thought is a very simple one, though sometimes it \nis somewhat mistakenly apprehended. Put into its gen- \neral form, it is just this : If you expect, and expecting \nhope, to be like Jesus Christ yonder, you will be trying \nyour best to be like him here. It is not the mere purify- \ning influence of hope that is talked about ; but it is the \nspecific influence of this one hope, the hope of ultimate \nassimilation to Christ, leading to strenuous efforts, each a \npartial resemblance of him, here and now. And that is \nthe subject I want to say a word or two about this morning. \n\nI have only two things to say about this matter, and \none of them is this : Of course, such strenuous effort of \npurity will only be the result of such a hope as that, be- \ncause such a hope will fight against one of the greatest \nof all the enemies of our efforts after purity. There is \nnothing that makes a man so down-hearted in his work \nof self-improvement as the constant and bitter experience \n\n\n\nTHE PURIFYING HOPE. &$ \n\nthat it seems to be all of no use ; that he is making so \nlittle progress ; that with immense pains, like a snail \ncreeping up a wall, he gets up, perhaps, an inch or two, \nand then all at once he drops down, and farther down \nthan he was before he started. \n\nSlowly we manage some little patient self-improve- \nment ; gradually, inch by inch and bit by bit, we may be \ngrowing better : and then there comes some gust and out- \nburst of temptation, and the whole painfully reclaimed \nsoil gets covered up by an avalanche of mud and stones, \nthat we have to remove slowly, barrow-load by barrow- \nload. And then we feel that it is all of no use to strive ; \nand we let circumstances shape us, and give up all \nthoughts of reformation. \n\nTo such moods then there comes, like an angel from \nheaven, that holy, blessed message, " Cheer up, man ! \n\'We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.\' \nEvery inch that you make now will tell then, and it is not \nall of no use. Set your heart to the work : it is a work \nthat will be blessed, and will prosper." \n\nAgain, here is a test for all you Christian people, who \nsay that you look to heaven with hope as to your home \nand rest. \n\nA great deal of the religious contemplation of a future \nstate is pure sentimentality, and, like all pure sentimen- \ntality, is either immoral or non-moral. But here the two \nthings are brought into clear juxtaposition, \xe2\x80\x94 the bright \nhope of heaven, and the hard work done here below. \nNow, is that what the gleam and expectation of a future \nlife does for you ? \n\n\n\n84 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nThis is the only time in John\'s Epistle that he speaks \nabout hope. The good man, living so near Christ, finds \nthat the present, with its " abiding in him," is enough for \nhis heart. And, though he was the seer of the Apoca- \nlypse, he has scarcely a word to say about the future in \nthis letter of his ; and when he does, it is for a simple and \nintensely practical purpose, in order that he may enforce \non us,, the teaching of laboring earnestly in purifying \nourselves. \n\nMy brother, is that your type of Christianity ? Is that \nthe kind of inspiration that comes to you from the hope \nthat steals in upon you in your weary hours, when sor- \nrows and cares and changes and loss and disappoint- \nments and hard work weigh you down, and you say, " It \nwould be blessed to pass hence " ? Does it set you harder \nat work than any thing else can do ? Is it all utilized ? \nOr, if I might use such an illustration, is it like the elec- \ntricity of the aurora borealis, that paints your winter sky \nwith vanishing, useless splendors of crimson and blue? \nor, have you got it harnessed to your tram-cars, lighting \nyour houses, driving sewing-machines, doing practical \nwork in your daily life ? Is the hope of being like Christ \na thing that stimulates and stirs us every moment to hero- \nisms of self-surrender and to strenuous martyrdom of self- \ncleansing ? \n\n\n\nTHE SEEN* AND THE UNSEEN. 85 \n\nXIV. \n\nSTtelftlj Dag of 3Lcnt. \nTHE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIM LEY, A.M. \n\nWhile we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things \nwhich are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal ; but the \nthings which are not seen are eternal. \xe2\x80\x94 2 Cor. iv. 18. \n\nThe distinction here made is between the material and \nthe spiritual, \xe2\x80\x94 between gross ponderable substance, and \nsubstance ethereal and divine. It is true that in latter \ndays the word "matter" has been applied even to all ethe- \nreal substances. It has been found that all have more \nor less of materiality. But we must retain the distinction \nas we find it in the language of our forefathers, and not \nbe afraid of the revelations which science may make as \nto the nature of things ethereal or breath-like. We must \nnot be unmindful of this, that language is framed in \naccordance with the appearances of things, and that there \nis a sense in which it may be said that things- are not \nwhat they seem. -We are inclined to shrink from asso- \nciating the densely material things around us with the \nunseen spiritual world. But the things which seem so \ngrossly material to us do so only because of the presence \nof the great ^attracting body, the earth. If they could be \nremoved many millions of miles away from the earth, they \n\n\n\n86 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwould lose the greater part of the \'weight which gives us \nthe idea of their gross materiality ; but, for all that, they \nwould be just as material as before. So that the acci- \ndental properties of the things we see around us, if we \ndwell upon them alone, and wrongly think of them as \nunchangeable, will not at all help us to a conception of \nthe things as they are in their very essence, or as they \nmight appear to ourselves if the conditions of our exist- \nence were changed. \n\nSuch thoughts as these, it seems to me, will help our \nminds to grasp the idea of the reality of the unseen soul, \nand of the unseen spiritual world ; and these are the \neternal things of which St. Paul speaks. \n\nThe soul, we may be assured, is a very real thing, and \nwill always be so. To strip it of its ethereality, of its \nbreath-like structure, because such words are now seen to \nhave kinship with those which denote the dense materi- \nality which is so apparent to our bodily eyes, is to reduce \nimmortality to the mere perpetuation of the thought that \nmen have lived, so that it becomes only an immortality \ninshrined in the memories of future generations, or an \nexistence only of the unembodied thoughts, affections, \nand aspirations which determine the state of growth in \ngrace in which the departed one quits the visible for the \ninvisible world, in the all-comprehensive remembrance of \nthe Divine One. But this is not the immortality that we \nas Christians look for and long for. This is but annihila- \ntion. How could any progressive life be possible for the \nsoul so refined away into nothingness? Wfc look for a \nfuture existence in which we shall each preserve our own \n\n\n\nTHE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN, 87 \n\nidentity. This we cannot do unless we are clothed upon \nwith the spiritual body of which St. Paul speaks. The \nremembrances of an earthly life could not be entangled \nin vacuum. The future life must have links connecting \nit with this. \'The unseen soul is now in intimate con- \nnection with our visible bodies ; and the unseen world \nis not sundered from the world we see : but, though \nthey are unseen, they are very real. And we must be \never pondering upon them, so that the conviction of \ntheir reality may be impressed more and more upon \nour consciousness. \n\nA wonderful kinship is becoming more and more pos- \nsible for us to conceive of as existing between the visible \nworld and the unseen spiritual world, in which the unseen \nparts of our beings are destined to enter upon an eternity \nof existence. This thought, which is every day more \nand more taking possession of men\'s minds, helps us to \nlook upon God\'s created world with more reverent eyes. \nGod himself is enthroned in the unseen world. All who \nhave ever had on earth the human form divine are living \nthere in his presence. The unseen world underlies the \nvisible world, and God is ever very near to us, and the. \nspirits of the departed are ever in our midst. Their ex- \nistence now, and the world in which they live, are just as \nreal and substantial to them as our existence and the \nvisible world are to us. But that world in which they \nlive is hot wholly hidden from us. Thoughts of it are \ncontinually presenting themselves to the mind, and must \nbe heeded. The thoughts of it which have been borne \nin upon the minds of our forefathers, and which have \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nbeen preserved for us, we call inspired thoughts, and we \nregard the pages on which they are inscribed for us as \nsacred. And the thoughts were inspired : they were \nborne into the souls of men by the breath of the Divine. \nAnd the pages on which they are noted down are sacred : \nno one can read them reverently without hearing within \nhimself the silent whisperings of assurance as to their \ntruth ; and man has ever been conscious that he has but \nyielded to a divine intuition in preserving them as treas- \nures transcending all other things in the world. \n\nBut the Divine One not only grants us revelations of \nthe unseen world by means of the treasured-up inspira- \ntions of the past. The world around us is an ever-present \nwitness to us of the existence of things unseen. The \nworld of nature, \xe2\x80\x94 that ever-changing world, the world of \nthat which is ever being born out of the life of God, the \nworld in which we may look upon ever-new manifestations \nof the great life of the Divine One, \xe2\x80\x94 that itself is an \never-present token of a presence Divine. The sacra- \nmentalism of nature \xe2\x80\x94 for such is the name we may give \nto this great principle \xe2\x80\x94 is presenting itself to the minds \nof men with increasing vividness. " The things that are \nmade " are being more and more discerned as suggestive \nto the human mind of thoughts respecting " the invisible \nthings of God." These thoughts are presenting them- \nselves only to reverent and loving souls. \n\n" When love interprets what the eye discerns, \nWhen mind discovers what is really meant, \nWhen grace improves what man from nature learns, \nEach sight and sound becomes a sacrament." \n\n\n\nTHE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 89 \n\nEven science every day reveals more and more what a \ndivine beauty there is in this world, which has lain hidden \nfrom the eyes of men of the past. It teaches us, that, if \nour bodily eyes were differently constituted, we might be \nable to discern that all along there has been underlying \nmaterial things an unseen glory of color and form. There \nare spectrum rays of light which make no impression on \nthe eye as it is at present constituted ; and there are \nsome men whose vision is so fine that they see rainbow \nbrilliances of color unperceived by others. These facts \nimpress upon our minds the thought that this present \nworld is, in the eyes of the divine all-seeing One, all \naglow with glories unrevealed to us. Are we never to see \nthe underlying beauty? May it not be this very hidden \nglory which the blessed ones behold with rapture now \nwith the unveiled eyes of the spirit-body? \n\nThat there is an unseen glory underlying all created \nthings, that there is a Divine presence in the world, that \nthe whole world is indeed to us a sacramental token of \nthat presence, we have in the Christian Church an ever- \npresent witness in the sacrament of the Eucharist. The \nDivine One who is ever saying to us of the sacramental \nbread and wine, " This is my body, this is my blood," \nand who thus reveals himself to the human soul as the \nnourisher of its spiritual life with his own divine life, \xe2\x80\x94 \nhe to all reverent souls is ever saying, of the world which \nis visible to us all, " This is my bodily vesture, this is the \nchosen medium for the inflowing of my life-giving Spirit \nto you." He is ever clothing himself with light as with \na garment ; he is ever moving with the wings of the \n\n\n\ngo CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwind ; the heavens are ever declaring his glory, and his \ncelestial splendors are ever disclosing themselves to our \ninner souls by means of the wonders around us in earth \nand sky and sea. \n\nOh, may the thought of a Divine presence in the world, \nto which our solemn Eucharist is a perpetual witness, \ngrow within us, and be the theme of many reverent medi- \ntations ; and may we too, as we recognize with more and \nmore vividness that mystic presence, be ever submissive \nto divine teachings, ever yearning to be enriched with \ndivine wisdom, and to be sanctified with divine love, \nwith the love and wisdom which will bring us more and \nmore into oneness with the Divine, and more and more \ninto sweet communion with one another, with our fellow- \nChristians the wide world over, and with all the faithful \ndeparted in the spiritual world which is ever around us. \n\n\n\nXV, \n\naEljnrtantJj Bag of 2Lent. \nDRAWING NEAR TO GOD. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nIt is good for me to draw near to God. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. lxxiii. 28. \n\nAnd to be habitually so far from thee, O my God ! is \nnot this my greatest evil? To worship thee at such a \ndistance and serve thee with so cold a heart, is not this \n\n\n\nDRAWING NEAR TO GOD. 91 \n\nmy sorest sin and misfortune? To live without thee, \nwithout the knowledge and the love of thee, is not this \nthe most dreary and the most hopeless of all human con- \nditions? Without thee, how can I perform my duties, \nendure my sorrows, enjoy my mercies, fulfil the purpose \nof my being, or look for any thing better beyond the \ngrave ? Thou art the soul of my soul, my light in dark- \nness, my strength in weakness, and the inspiration of all \nmy joy. Both helpless and hopeless I am, if thou with- \nhold thy succor and conceal thy face. It is good for me \nto draw near to thee. \n\nIs it good for the sheep to be with the shepherd ? It \nis never safe without him. It can neither defend itself, \nnor supply its own wants. With what confidence the \ntimid creature follows, responding to the familiar call ! \nThou, O Lord ! art my Shepherd. I shall not want. Thou \nmakest me to lie down in green pastures. Thou leadest \nme beside the still waters. With heavenly food thou \nrestorest and sustainest my soul. Folded and defended \nby thee, I am safe from the thief and the robber, from \nthe wolf and the lion, from the pit and the precipice, \nfrom stumbling upon the dark mountains amidst the \nwindy storm and tempest. Yea, though I walk through \nthe valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; \nfor thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff shall \ncomfort me. \n\nIs it good for the child to be with the father? He \nneeds the father\'s counsel, guidance, guardian care, and \ndaily providence. The child who, like the prodigal of \n\n\n\n92 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe parable, forsakes his father, shall fall into temptations \nand miseries, from which he shall escape only by return- \ning to his father\'s house. Thou, O Lord ! art my Father. \nBorn of thy Holy Spirit, I am partaker of thy holiness. \nThou hast given me the spirit of adoption, by which I \ncry, Abba, Father. Assured of thy love, I come to thee \nwith confidence, and ask for what I need. Ever with \nthee, all that thou hast is mine. I am thy heir, and joint- \nheir with thy First-born, to an inheritance incorruptible \nand imperishable, reserved for all thy saints, as well as \nme, in heaven. \n\nIs it good for the pupil to be with the teacher? The \nlatter can help him with his lessons, solve difficult \nproblems for him, clarify what is too obscure for his ap- \nprehension, lead him through the intricate labyrinths of \nscience, and unseal to him the pure fountains of classic \nlore. Thou, O Lord ! art my Teacher. To me, as to \nIsrael of old, thou sayest : " I am the Lord thy God that \nteacheth thee." In thy school, I sit me down at thy \nfeet, and how sweet to my soul are the words of thy \nmouth ! The great text-book is before me \xe2\x80\x94 thy written \nwill, thy published law, the code of thy kingdom, a \nlamp to my feet, a light to my path, able to make me \nwise unto salvation. What were all the science and \nlearning of this world, to that which thy Word and thy \nSpirit teach me ? \n\nIs it good for the servant to be with the master? Some \nservants, away from the master, are unfaithful, and worse \nthan useless ; and the best servants may labor better in \nthe master\'s presence, with his words to stimulate and his \n\n\n\nr RAWING NEAR TO GOD. 93 \n\nsmiles to cheer them. Having the master to direct them, \nthey are confident of pleasing and satisfying; and this \nrelieves the toil, and makes the duty a delight. Thou, \nO Lord ! art my Master. I recognize thy authority, and \nrejoice to do thy will. Loving thee because thou hast \nloved me, I desire to serve thee with all my heart, and \nsoul, and mind, and strength. I owe thee the utmost \nservice of every faculty throughout the endless duration \nof my being. Submission to thy will, thanksgiving for \nthy goodness, admiration of thy wisdom, imitation of thy \nholiness, veneration of thy majesty, confidence in thy \nfaithfulness, obedience to thy commandments, and fidelity \nto all the interests of thy kingdom, are what thou requirest \nof all. In thy presence, and with thy approval, the yoke \nis easy and the burden light \xe2\x80\x94 the joy of " angels strong \nand seraphs blest." \n\nIs it good for the artist to be with the model? He \nwants to copy it. He must have it constantly before him. \nHe must observe and study every part. The minutest \npoint must not escape his notice. The closer the atten- \ntion, the better the copy. Thou, O Lord ! art my Model. \nIn natural perfections I cannot be like thee ; but thy \nmoral qualities, with the aid and inspiration of thy Holy \nSpirit, I may transfer to my own soul, as the painter trans- \nfers to his canvas, tint after tint and feature after feature, \nthe picture before him ; or as the sculptor, with careful \ndiligence and anxious toil, transfers to the rough and \nshapeless marble every lineament of the beautiful statue, \ntill the perfect copy stands forth as faultless as the origi- \nnal. So would I reproduce thy moral image in this fallen \n\n\n\n94 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nand polluted soul. In my measure, I would be holy as \nthou art holy, loving as thou art loving, forbearing as thou \nart forbearing, forgiving as thou art forgiving, beneficent \nas thou art beneficent, in all things perfect even as thou \nart perfect. And to do this, I must be much with thee, \nstudying thee, copying thee, yielding to the impress of \nthy Holy Spirit. Nay, my Sun of righteousness ! let me \nbe the mirror to catch thy blessed beams, and glow with \nthe reflection of thy glory ! \n\nIs it good for the sinner to be with the Saviour? To \nwhom but him shall he go for pardon, for cleansing, for \nresurrection, for eternal life? To whom shall he make \nhis confession and supplication, and in whose mercy and \nmerit shall he trust, if not in the living God, who is the \nSaviour of all men, especially of them that believe ? Thou, \n\nLord ! art my Saviour. By thy incarnation in my na- \nture thou hast drawn near to me. Perfect God and perfect \nman, I find in thee the measure of my soul\'s necessities \n\xe2\x80\x94 wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and complete \nredemption. Thy mercy is greater than my guilt. Thy \nblood can cleanse me from all uncleanness. Thy peace \nshall tranquillize my troubled conscience. Thy love shall \nfill me with joy unspeakable and full of glory. What can \n\n1 do for myself \xe2\x80\x94 wretched bond-slave of sin and Satan? \nAm I not continually breaking the vows which I have \nmade, and falling again into the follies and offences of \nwhich I have repented ? O Captain of my salvation ! \nwith contrite heart to thee I come. Every other depend- \nence I renounce ; every other hope I abandon. Thine \nis the only name given under heaven by which I can be \n\n\n\n"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY:\' 95 \n\nsaved. " Thou art my hiding-place ; thou wilt preserve \nme from trouble \\ thou wilt compass me about with songs \nof deliverance." Therefore, with all my sinfulness and \nmisery, it is good for me to draw near to thee. \n\n\n\nXVI. \n\njfourtenttj) Bap of HettU \n" THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND \n\nSKvr \n\nREV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. \n\nMercy and truth are met together ; righteousness and peace have kissed \neach other. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. Ixxxv. 10. \n\nThis is a lovely and highly imaginative picture of the \nreconciliation and re-union of God and man, "the bridal \nof the earth and sky." \n\nThe poet-psalmist, who seems to have belonged to the \ntimes immediately after the return from the exile, in \nstrong faith sees before him a vision of a perfectly har- \nmonious co-operation and relation between God and \nman. He is not prophesying directly of Messianic times. \nThe vision hangs before him, with no definite note of \ntime upon it. He hopes it may be fulfilled in his own \nday ; he is sure it will, if only, as he says, his countrymen \n" turn not again to folly." At all events, it will be fulfilled \nin that far-off time to which the heart of every prophet \n\n\n\ng6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nturned with longing. But, more than that, there is no \nreason why it should not be fulfilled with every man, at \nthe moment. \n\nIt is the ideal, to use modern language, of the relations \nbetween heaven and earth. Only that the Psalmist be- \nlieved, that as sure as that there was a God in heaven, \nwho is likewise a God working in the midst of the earth, \nthe ideal might become, and would become, a reality. \n\n" Mercy and truth are met together \\ righteousness and \npeace have kissed each other." We have here the heav- \nenly twin sisters, and the earthly pair that corresponds. \n"Mercy and truth are met together," \xe2\x80\x94 that is one per- \nsonification ; " Righteousness and peace have kissed each \nother," is another. It is difficult to say whether these \nfour great qualities are to be regarded as all belonging to \nGod, or as all belonging to man, or as all common both \nto God and man. The first explanation is the most \nfamiliar one ; but I confess, that looking at the context, \nwhere we find throughout an interpenetration and play of \nreciprocal action as between earth and heaven, I am \ndisposed to think of the first pair as sisters from the \nheavens, and the second pair as the earthly sisters that \ncorrespond to them. Mercy and truths two radiant \nangels, like virgins in some solemn choric dance, linked \nhand in hand, issue from the sanctuary, and move amongst \nthe dim haunts of men, making " a sunshine in a shady \nplace ; " and to them there come forth, linked in a sweet \nembrace, another pair whose lives depend on the lives \nof their elder and heavenly sisters, \xe2\x80\x94 righteousness and \npeace. And so these four, \xe2\x80\x94 the pair of heavenly origin, \n\n\n\n"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY." 97 \n\nand the answering pair that have sprung into being at \ntheir coming upon earth, \xe2\x80\x94 these four, banded in perfect \naccord, move together, blessing and light-giving, amongst \nthe sons of men. Mercy and truth are the divine, right- \neousness and peace the earthly. \n\nLet me dwell upon these two couples briefly. " Mercy \nand truth are met together," means this : that these two \nqualities are found braided and linked inseparably in all \nthat God does with mankind ; that these two springs are \nthe double fountains from which the great stream of the \nriver of the water of life, the forthcoming and the mani- \nfestation of God, takes its rise. \n\n" Mercy and truth." What are the meanings of? the \ntwo words ? Mercy is love that stoops, love that departs \nfrom the strict lines of desert and retribution. Mercy is \nlove that is kind when justice might make it otherwise. \nMercy is love that condescends to that which is far be- \nneath. Thus the " mercy " of the Old Testament covers \nalmost the same ground as the " grace " of the New \nTestament. \n\nAnd truth blends with the mercy;, that is to say, \ntruth in a somewhat narrower than its widest sense, mean- \ning mainly God\'s fidelity to every obligation under which \nhe has come; God\'s faithfulness to. promise, God\'s fidel- \nity to his past, God\'s fidelity, in his actions, to his own \ncharacter, which is meant by that great word,." he sware \nby himself." \n\nThus the sentiment of mercy, the tender grace and \ngentleness of that condescending love, has- impressed \nupon it the seal of permanence when we say : Grace and \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\ntruth, mercy and faithfulness, are met together. No \nlonger is love mere sentiment, which may be capricious \nand may be transient. We can reckon on it : we know \nthe law of its being. The love is lifted up above the \nsuspicion of being arbitrary, or of ever changing or fluc- \ntuating. We do not know all the limits of the orbit, but \nwe know enough to calculate it for all practical purposes. \nGod has committed himself to us ; he has limited himself \nby his obligations, by his own past. We have a right to \nturn to him, and say, " Be what thou art, and continue \nto us what thou hast been unto past ages." And he re- \nsponds to the appeal. For mercy and truth, tender, \ngracious, stooping, forgiving love, and inviolable faithful- \nness that can never be otherwise, \xe2\x80\x94 these blend in all his \nworks ; " that by two immutable things, wherein it was \nimpossible for God to lie, we might have a strong conso- \nlation." \n\nAgain, dear brethren, let me remind you, these two are . \nthe ideal two, which, as far as God\'s will and wish are \nconcerned, are the only two that would mark any of his \ndealings with men. When he is, if I may so say, left free \nto do as he would, and is not forced to his " strange act " \nof punishment by my sin and yours, these, and these only, \nare the characteristics of his dealings. \n\nNor let us forget, " We beheld his glory, the glory as \nof the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and \ntruth" The psalmist\'s vision was fulfilled in Jesus \nChrist, in whom these sweet twin characteristics, that are \nlinked inseparably in all the works of God, are welded \ntogether into one in the living personality of Him who is \n\n\n\n"THE BRIDAL OF THE EARTH AND SKY." 99 \n\nall the Father\'s grace embodied, and is the way and the \ntruth and the life. \n\nTurn now to the other side of this first aspect of the \nunion of God and man. " Mercy and truth are met to- \ngether ; " these are the heavenly twins. " Righteousness \nand peace have kissed each other; " these are the earthly \nsisters who sprang into being to meet them. \n\nOf course I know that these words are very often \napplied, by way of illustration, to the great work of Jesus \nChrist upon the cross, which is supposed to have recon- \nciled, if not contradictory, at least divergently working \nsides of the Divine character and government. And we \nall know how beautifully the phrase has often been em- \nployed by eloquent preachers, and how beautifully it has \nbeen often illustrated by devout painters. \n\nBut, beautiful as the adaptation is, I think it is an \nadaptation, and not the real meaning of the words, for \nthis reason, if for no other : that righteousness and peace \nare not in the old Testament regarded as opposites, but \nas harmonious and inseparable. And so I take it that \nhere we have distinctly the picture of what happens upon \nearth when mercy and truth that come down from heaven \nare accepted and recognized, \xe2\x80\x94 then righteousness and \npeace kiss each other. \n\nOr, to put away the metaphor, here are two thoughts : \nfirst, that, in men\'s experience and life, righteousness and \npeace cannot be rent apart. The only secret of tranquil- \nlity is to be good. " First of all, King of righteousness, \nand after that King of Salem, which is the King of peace." \n"The effect of righteousness shall be peace," as Isaiah, \n\n\n\nIOO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nthe brother in spirit of this psalmist, says ; and on the \nother hand, as the same prophet says, " The wicked is \nlike a troubled sea that cannot rest, whose waters cast up \nmire and dirt ; there is no peace, saith my God, to the \nwicked." But where affections are pure, and the life is \nworthy, where goodness is loved in the heart and followed \neven imperfectly in the daily life, there the ocean is quiet, \nand " birds of peace sit brooding on the charmed wave." \nThe one secret of tranquillity is first to trust in the Lord, \nand then to do good. Righteousness and peace kiss each \nother. \n\nThe other thought here is that righteousness and her \ntwin sister peace only come in the measure in which the \nmerqy and the truth of God are received into thankful \nhearts. My brother, have you taken that mercy and that \ntruth into your soul, and are you trying to reach peace \nin the only way by which any human being can ever \nreach it, \xe2\x80\x94 through the path of righteousness, self-sup- \npression, and consecration to him ? \n\nAh, brethren ! That is the crown and climax of the \nharmony between God and man, that his mercy and his \ntruth, his gifts and his grace, have all led us up to this : \nthat we take his righteousness as our pattern, and try in \nour poor lives to reproduce its wondrous beauty. Do not \nforget that a great deal more than the psalmist dreamed \nof, you Christian men and women possess, in the Christ \nwho of God is made unto us righteousness, in whom \nheaven and earth are joined forever, in whom man and \nGod are knit in strictest bonds of indissoluble friendship ; \nand who, having prepared a path for God in his mighty \n\n\n\nKEEPING THE HEART. ioi \n\nmission, and by his sacrifice on the cross, comes to us ; \nand, as the Incarnate Righteousness, will lead us in the \npaths of God, leaving us an example, that " we should \nfollow in his steps." \n\n\n\nXVII. \n\ntftftecntf) Sag of Hent \nKEEPING THE HEART. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nKeep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life. \xe2\x80\x94 \nProv. iv. 23. \n\nGold thou mayest neglect, jewels discard, bonds and \nstocks repudiate, houses and lands suffer to be alienated, \nmost precious things of earth cast into the depths of the \nsea. But thy heart thou must keep, "for out of it are \nthe issues of life." It is the throne of thought, the fount \nof feeling, the mainspring of action. Hence come thy \nwords, beam thy smiles, flow thy tears, arise thy motives, \nmarch forth thy purposes like hosts arrayed for war. All \nvirtue and all vice lie within its province \xe2\x80\x94 all impressions \nand impulsions for good or ill. It is the home of the \nsupreme sentiment, dominating the whole man \xe2\x80\x94 the bat- \ntle-ground of the great central principle, where character \nand destiny are decided \xe2\x80\x94 the pivot on which eternal \njudgment turns \xe2\x80\x94 the gate opening into heaven or hell. \n\n\n\n102 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nTherefore, " keep thy heart with all diligence" \xe2\x80\x94 lit- \nerally, "with all keeping" \xe2\x80\x94 by every available means, \nin every possible manner. Keep it carefully, watchfully, \nactively, valiantly, and constantly. Keep it " meek and \nlowly, pure and holy," full of faith and love, ever tender \nand penitent, always growing in grace and divine knowl- \nedge, daily becoming more and more a copy of the heart \nof Christ. \n\nHow wouldst thou keep a treasure or a jewel? Enclose \nit in a safe or a casket, deposit it in a vault or a tower, \nlock it up in a castle or a treasure-house, guard it by a \ncordon of soldiery, suffer none but the proper custodian \nto touch or approach it, and come often in person to see \nthat all is right and secure ? So keep thy heart. \n\nHow wouldst thou keep a garden or a vineyard ? Hedge \nit around for protection, gather out its stones, pluck up \nevery weed, carefully plough and pulverize, enrich with \nfore gn fertilizers, plant with choice seed and select roots, \ntrain each shoot in its proper direction, prune the wanton \nluxuriance of its growth, and watch the ripening product \nnight and day? So keep thy heart. \n\nHow wouldst thou keep a parlor or a chamber? Sweep \nits carpets, dust its furniture, brush down the spiders\' \nwebs, adorn the walls with pictures, hang rich tapestry \naround the windows, paint and varnish when necessary, \nbeautify with bronze and marble, see that ventilation and \ntemperature are salutary, preserve every thing in proper \nplace and harmonious order, and suffer no unsightly thing \nor noisome odor within ? So keep thy heart. \n\nHow wouldst thou keep a castle or a fortress? Make \n\n\n\nKEEPING THE HEART. 103 \n\nits outer walls strong and high, fortify them with lofty \ntowers, man them with brave defenders, surround them \nwith a deep and broad fosse, so construct the drawbridge \nthat it may quickly be closed or opened, secure the iron \ngates with solid bolts and bars, guard the approaches on \nall .;ides by armed men, permit no stranger to enter with- \nout due examination and proper passport, and have every \nthing ready for the reception of the noble or princely \noccupant when he shall come? So keep thy heart. \n\nHow wouldst thou keep a fortune or an inheritance? \nAssure thyself that the title is perfectly good and valid, \nascertain whether thy guardian or executor is quite honest \nand trustworthy, examine the documents to know if every \nthing has been legally devised and done, promptly attend \nto the correction of any and every fault or flaw in the \nproceedings, acquaint thyself with the chief points of law \ninvolved in the matter, make sure that there is no incum- \nbrance upon the property that can hereafter invalidate thy \nclaim, avoid whatever might disqualify thee for thy future \nposition, and by every needful virtue make thyself worthy \nof the inheritance? So keep thy heart. \n\nKeep it for God ; he made it for himself, and comes to \nclaim it as his own. Keep it for Christ ; he bought it \nwith his precious blood, and will not part with his pur- \nchase. Keep it for the Church; consecrated at her font \nand her chancel, she has a living claim upon its every \npulsation. Keep it for the world ; the divinely constituted \nsalt of its conservation, the greatly needed light of its \nillumination. Keep it for thyself; character in this life, \ndestiny in the next, interests immeasurable as immortality, \n\n\n\n104 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndepend upon thy fidelity to the duty. " Keep thy heart \nwith all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." \n\n\n\nXVIII. \n\nStxtenttjj Bag of 2Leni \nMAN\'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. \n\nREV. A. MACLAREN, D.D. \nThe Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. xvi. 5. \n\nWe read, in the law which created the priesthood in \nIsrael, that " the Lord spake unto Aaron, Thou shalt have \nno inheritance in their land, neither shalt thou have any \npart among them. I am thy part and thine inheritance \namong the children of Israel" (Num. xvii. 20). Now, \nthere is an evident allusion to that remarkable provision \nin this text. The Psalmist feels that in the deepest sense \nhe has no possession amongst the men who have only \npossessions upon earth, but that God is the treasure which \nhe grasps in a rapture of devotion and self-abandonment. \nThe priest\'s duty is his choice. He will " walk by faith \nand not by sight." \n\nAre not all Christians priests ? and is not the very es- \nsence and innermost secret of the religious life this, \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat the heart turns away from earthly things, and delib- \nerately accepts God as its supreme good and its only \nportion ? \n\n\n\n. MAN\'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 105 \n\n" The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and of my \ncup." The two words which are translated in our version \n" portion" and "inheritance" are substantially synony- \nmous. The latter of them is used continually in reference \nto the share of each individual, or family, or tribe, in the \npartition of the land of Canaan. There is a distinct allu- \nsion, therefore, to that partition, in the language of our \ntext; and the two expressions, part or "portion," and \n"inheritance," are substantially identical, and really mean \njust the same as if the single expression had stood, "The \nLord is my portion." \n\nI may just notice, in passing, that these words are evi- \ndently alluded to in the New Testament, in the Epistle to \nthe Colossians, where Paul speaks of God " having made \nus meet for the portion of the inheritance of the saints in \nlight." \n\nAnd then the "portion of my cup" is a somewhat \nstrange expression. It is found in one of the other \nPsalms, with the meaning " fortune," or " destiny," or \n"sum of circumstances which make up a man\'s life." \nThere may be, of course, an allusion to the metaphor of \na feast here ; and God may be set forth as " the portion \nof my cup," in the sense of being the refreshment and \nsustenance of a man\'s soul. But I should rather be dis- \nposed to consider that there is merely a prolongation of \nthe earlier metaphor, and that the same thought as is \ncontained in the figure of the " inheritance " is expressed \nhere (as in common conversation it is often expressed) \nby the word " cup \\ " namely, that which makes up a \nman\'s portion in this life. It is used with such a mean- \n\n\n\n106 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ning in the well-known words, " My cup runneth over ; " \nand, in another shape, in " The cup which my Father hath \ngiven me, shall I not drink it?" It is the sum of cir- \ncumstances which make up a man\'s " fortune." So the \ndouble metaphor presents the one thought of God as \nthe true possession of the devout soul. \n\nNow, how do we possess God? We possess things in \none fashion, and persons in another. The lowest and \nmost imperfect form of possession is that by which a man \nsimply keeps other people off material good, and asserts \nthe right of disposal of it as he thinks proper. A blind \nman may have the finest picture that ever was painted ; \nhe may call it his, that is to say, nobody else can sell it : \nbut what good is it to him ? A lunatic may own a library \nas big as the Bodleian, but what use is it to him? Does \nthe man who draws the rents of a mountain-side, or the \npoet or painter to whom its cliffs and heather speak far- \nreaching thoughts, most truly possess it? The highest \nform of possession, even of things, is when they minister \nto our thought, to our emotion, to our moral and intel- \nlectual growth. We possess even them really, according \nas we know them, and hold communion with them. \n\nBut when we get up into the region of persons, we \npossess them in the measure in which we understand \nthem, and sympathize with them, and love them. Knowl- \nedge, intercourse, sympathy, affection, \xe2\x80\x94 these are the \nways by which men can possess men, and spirits, spirits. \nA man that gets the thoughts of a great teacher into \nhis mind, and has his whole being saturated by them, \nmay be said to have made the teacher his own. A \n\n\n\nMAN\'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 107 \n\nfriend or a lover owns the heart that he or she loves, and \nwhich loves back again. And not otherwise do we possess \nGod. \n\nSuch ownership must be, from its very nature, recipro- \ncal. There must be the two sides to it. And so we read \nin the Bible, with equal frequency, the Lord is the " in- \nheritance of his people," and his people are "the inher- \nitance of the Lord." He possesses me, and I possess him \n\xe2\x80\x94 with reverence be it spoken \xe2\x80\x94 by the very same ten- \nure ; for whoso loves God has him, and whom he loves \nhe owns. There is deep and blessed mystery involved \nin this wonderful prerogative, that the loving, believing \nheart has God for its possession and indwelling Guest ; \nand people are apt to brush such thoughts aside as mys- \ntical. But, like all true Christian mysticism, it is intensely \npractical. \n\nWe have God for ours, first, in the measure in which our \nminds are actively occupied with thoughts of him. We \nhave no merely mystical or emotional possession of God \nto preach. There is a real, adequate knowledge of him \nin Jesus Christ. We know God, his character, his heart, \nhis relations to us, his thoughts of good concerning us, \nsufficiently for all intellectual and for all practical pur- \nposes. I wish to ask you a plain question : Do you ever \nthink about him ? \n\nThere is only one way of getting God for yours ; and \nthat is by bringing him into your life by frequent medita- \ntion upon his sweetness, and upon the truths that you \nknow about him. There is no other way by which a spirit \ncan possess a spirit that is not cognizable by sense, ex- \n\n\n\n108 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ncept only by the way of thinking about him, to begin \nwith. All else follows that. That is how you hold your \ndear ones when they go to the other side of the world. \nThat is how you hold God, who dwells on the other side \nof the stars. There is no way to " have " him, but through \nthe understanding accepting him and keeping firm hold \nof him. Men and women that from Monday morning to \nSaturday night never think of his name, how do they pos- \nsess God? And professing Christians that never remem- \nber him all the day long, what absurd hypocrisy it is for \nthem to say that God is theirs ! \n\nYours, and never in your mind ! When your husband, \nor your wife, or your child, goes away from home for a \nweek, do you forget them as utterly as you forget God ? \nDo you have them, in any sense, if they never dwell in \nthe " study of your imagination/\' and never fill your \nthoughts with sweetness and with light? \n\nAnd so, again, when the heart turns to him, and when \nall the faculties of our being, \xe2\x80\x94 will, and hope, and im- \nagination, and all our affections, and all our practical \npowers, \xe2\x80\x94 when they all touch him, each in its proper \nfashion, then and then only can we in any reasonable and \ntrue sense be said to possess God. \n\nThought, communion, sympathy, affection, moral like- \nness, practical obedience, \xe2\x80\x94 these are the way (and not \nby mystical raptures only) by which, in simple prose fact, \nis it possible for the finite to grasp the Infinite, and for a \nman to be \\h\xe2\x82\xac owner of God. \n\nNow, there is another consideration very necessary to \nbe remembered ; and that is, that this possession of God \n\n\n\nMAN\'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. 109 \n\ninvolves, and is possible only by, a deliberate act of re- \nnunciation. The Levite\'s example, that is glanced at in \nmy text, is always our law. You must have no part or \ninheritance amongst the sons of earth, if God is to be \nyour inheritance. Or, to put it into plain words, there \nmust be a giving-up of the material and the created, if \nthere is to be a possession of the divine and the heavenly. \nThere cannot be two supreme, any more than there can \nbe two pole-stars, one in the north and the other in the \nsouth, to both of which a man can be steering. \nYou cannot stand with \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" One foot on land, and one on sea, \nTo one thing constant never." \n\nIf you are going to have God as your supreme good, you \nmust empty your heart of earth and worldly things, or \nyour possession of him will be all words and imagination \nand hypocrisy. Brethren, I wish to bring that message to \nyour consciences to-day. \n\nAnd what is this renunciation? There must be, first \nof all, a fixed, deliberate, intelligent conviction lying at \nthe foundation of my life, that God is best, and that he \nand he only is my true delight and desire. Then there \nmust be built upon that intelligent conviction that God is \nbest, the deliberate turning-away of the heart from these \nmaterial treasures. Then there must be the willingness \nto abandon the outward possession of them, if they come \nin between us and him. Just as travellers in old days, \nthat went out looking for treasures in the western hemi- \nsphere, were glad to empty out their ships of their less \n\n\n\nHO CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nprecious cargo in order to load them with gold, you must \nget rid of the trifles, and fling these away, if ever they \nso take up your heart that God has no room there. Or \nrather, perhaps, if the love of God in any real measure, \nhowsoever imperfectly, once gets into a man\'s soul, it will \nwork there to expel and edge out the love and regard for \nearthly things. \n\nJust as, when the chemist collects oxygen in a vessel \nfilled with water, as it passes into the jar it drives out the \nwater before it ; the love of God, if it come into a man\'s \nheart in any real sense, in the measure in which it comes \nwill deliver him from the love of the world. \n\nBut between the two there is warfare so internecine \nand endless that they cannot co-exist ; and here, to-day, \nit is as true as ever it was, that, if you want to have God \nfor your portion and your inheritance, you must be con- \ntent to have no inheritance amongst your brethren, nor \npart amongst the sons of earth. \n\nMen and women, are you ready for that renunciation ? \nAre you prepared to say, " I know that the sweetness of \nthy presence is the truest sweetness that I can taste ; and \nlo ! I give up all besides, and my own self. \n\n" \' O God ! of good the unfathomed sea, \nWho would not yield himself to thee \' " ? \n\nAnd remember that nothing less than these is Chris- \ntianity, \xe2\x80\x94 the conviction that the world is second and not \nfirst; that God is best, love is best, truth is best; knowl- \nedge of him is best ; likeness to him is best ; the will- \ningness to surrender all if it come in contest with his \n\n\n\nMAN\'S TRUE TREASURE IN GOD. in \n\nsupreme sweetness. He that turns his back upon earth, \nby reason of the drawing power of the glory that excel- \nleth, is a Christian. The Christianity that only trusts to \nChrist for deliverance from the punishment of sin, and so \nmakes religion a kind of fire-insurance, is a very poor \naffair. We need the lesson pealed into our ears as much \nas any generation has ever done, " Ye cannot serve God \nand mammon." A man\'s real working religion consists \nin his loving God most, and counting his love the sweetest \nof all things. \n\nThe one true, pure, abiding joy is to hold fellowship \nwith God, and to live in his love. The secret of all our \nunrest is the going-out of our desires after earthly things. \nThey fly forth from our hearts like Noah\'s raven, and \nnowhere, amid all the weltering flood, can find a resting- \nplace. The secret of satisfied repose is to set our affec- \ntions thoroughly on God. Then our wearied hearts, like \nNoah\'s dove returning to its rest, will fold their wings, \nand nestle fast by the throne of God. " All the happi- \nness of this life," said William Law, "is but trying to \nquench thirst out of golden empty cups." But if we will \ntake the Lord for " the portion of our cup," we shall never \nthirst. \n\nLet me beseech you to choose God in Christ for your \nsupreme good and highest portion ; and, having chosen, \nto cleave to your choice. So shall you enter on posses- \nsion of good that truly shall be yours, even " that good \npart, which shall not be taken away from you." \n\nAnd, lastly, remember that if you would have God, \nyou must take Christ. He is the true Joshua, who puts \n\n\n\n112 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nus in possession of the inheritance. He brings God to \nyou, \xe2\x80\x94 to your knowledge, to your love, to your will. He \nbrings you to God, making it possible for your poor sinful \nsouls to enter his presence by his blood, and for your \nspirits to possess that divine Guest. " He that hath the \nSon hath the Father ; " and if you trust your souls to \nHim that died for you, and cling to him as your delight \nand your joy, you will find that both the Father and the \nSon come to you and make their home in you. Through \nChrist the Son, you will receive power to become sons of \nGod ; and if children, then heirs, \xe2\x80\x94 heirs of God, because \njoint heirs with Christ. \n\n\n\nXIX. \n\n3Tf)irtJ Suntiag fix ILent \nPURSUIT OF CHARITY. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nFollow after charity. \xe2\x80\x94 i Cor. xiv. i. \n\nSt. John was pre-eminently the apostle of love. On \nthe bosom of the Divine Love incarnate, he learned to \nlove with an ardor and a tenderness among men seldom \nequalled and never surpassed. Very justly is he called \n" the disciple whom Jesus loved ; " for the Master found \nin him something so congenial and attractive, that on \n\n\n\nPURSUIT OF CHARITY. 113 \n\nseveral recorded occasions he treated him with excep- \ntional favor and familiarity. Love is the keynote of his \nepistles, on which he dwells so sweetly, and to which he \nreturns so often, that we have come to consider this Chris- \ntian quality as more fully exemplified in his character, and \nmore constantly inculcated in his writings, than in those \nof any other apostle. Yet it is a remarkable fact, that \nthe most comprehensive account of love \xe2\x80\x94 of its nature, \nits properties, and its relative importance \xe2\x80\x94 as well as the \nmost touching and beautiful \xe2\x80\x94 to be found in the whole \nvolume of Holy Scripture, is from the pen of St. Paul. \n\nIn natural temper, early education, and apostolic inves- \ntiture, the two writers differed widely ; yet both describe \nthe same Christian affection with its various manifestations \nand fruits, but each in his own characteristic manner. \nSt. John, being of a contemplative turn of mind, seems \nmost at home in the calm inner depths of love ; while \nSt. Paul, always intensely practical, delights to trace its \ndevelopment and application in the active life of men. \nWith the former, it is the tranquil repose of full satis- \nfaction and perfect confidence ; with the latter, it is an \nout-bursting energy and soul-consuming zeal. The one \ntheorizes divinely, and his eloquent logic leads captive the \nmind and the heart of the reader ; the other translates \nhis theory into practice, and makes love the characteristic \nprinciple of Christian life, the very pulse of regenerate \nand sanctified souls. \n\nHere the matter is set before us by St. Paul in a light \nthe most vivid and attractive ; charity \xe2\x80\x94 which is only, \nanother name for love \xe2\x80\x94 being exhibited as the crowning \n\n\n\nI 14 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nexcellence of Christianity, the sum of all social morality, \nthe image of God in the soul of man \xe2\x80\x94 greater than the \ngift of tongues, wiser than the knowledge of mysteries, \nholier than the power of prophecy, sublimer than the \nmightiest miracles, more bounteous than the largest be* \nneficence," more heroic than any voluntary martyrdom, \nmore enduring than all supernatural endowments, and \nin its sphere and functions transcending both faith and \nhope. \n\nJust before his passion, Jesus said to the twelve : " A \nnew commandment give I unto you, That ye love one \nanother \xe2\x80\x94 as 1 have loved you, that ye also love one an- \nother.\'\' His favorite apostle, who could never forget that \nsaying, many years afterward, with frequent repetitions \nand variations echoed the precious word in the ears of \nthe whole Catholic Church. He calls the command both \na new command and an old command, and the simplest \ndisciple need not stumble at the paradox. The new com- \nmand is old because it calls for mutual love, which God \nhas required from the beginning; the old command is \nnew because Christ\'s love to us all is to be the motive, \nthe model and the measure of our love one to another. \nLove is the very essence of Christianity. Brotherly love \nis the half of Christianity, and the best evidence to the \nworld that we have been with Jesus and learned of him. \n" By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if \nye have love one to another." The word is as true to-day \nas when it fell from the lips of our Lord. \n\nBut very apt we are to deceive ourselves, claiming to \n\n\n\nPURSUIT OF CHARITY. 115 \n\nbe his disciples while we lack the one thing that more \nthan all others can entitle us to the name. Let the \napostle correct our errors. If we have not the spirit of \nChrist, we are none of his. Wanting the charity here \ndescribed, whatever else we may possess, we are not \npractical Christians. To a complete Christian character \nall these attributes are essential. In different Christians \nthey may exist in different degrees, and in the same \nChristian some of them may be more largely developed \nthan others ; but in every renewed and purified heart the \ngerminal principle must dwell, the generic virtue in which \nthey all inhere. \n\nDeem not yourselves Christians, then, in the true prac- \ntical sense, because you have received the initiatory sac- \nrament of the Church, and been brought into the bond \nof the covenant, and incorporated with the mystical body \nof Christ, which is the blessed company of all faithful \npeople ; for what avails the baptismal blessing which is \nnot accompanied by Christian love? and how will the \nwashing of regeneration save you, if you lead not the rest \nof your life according to this beginning? Woe to them \nthat bear the name of Christ without his image, receive \nthe sign of the cross without the spirit of the Crucified, \nand call Jesus Lord and Master while they are totally \ndestitute of the charity which his service requires ! \n\nYou may frequent the house of God, and delight in its \neucharistic solemnities ; you may erect the family altar, \nand gather your children around the morning and even- \ning sacrifice ; you may observe with the utmost exactness \nyour seasons of private devotion, and commune frequently \n\n\n\nIi6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwith revealed truth in the written Word ; but by no such \nformalities can you deceive Him who looketh upon the \nheart, and will never mistake the flower for the fruit, the \nshadow for the substance, the casket for the jewel, the ex- \nternal act for the internal principle. \n\nAnd what is all your knowledge, if you have not charity, \nbut the cold moonbeams gilding the mountain snows which \nthey cannot melt? "Knowledge puffeth up, but charity \nbuildeth up;" and the difference between them is that \nof the gay balloon inflated with gas, and the marble \npalace filled with the precious treasures of art and empire. \nThe most intelligent citizen may basely betray his coun- \ntry, and the best-informed Churchman may prove the \nJudas of the band. Boast as you will of your illumina- \ntion, the lamp you rejoice in may but light your way to \nhell. \n\nAnd religious emotion \xe2\x80\x94 what is that but the mark of a \nlively temperament ? A person of sensibility will sigh and \nweep, or laugh and applaud, at a musical or dramatical \nperformance, in which there is no religious element, the \nsentiment of which is even corrupt and demoralizing, as \nmultitudes do under sensational sermons and in exciting \nrevival scenes. Is it not the very shallowness of the soil \nthat makes the seed spring up so quickly and wither so \nsoon away? \n\n" It is good to be zealously affected always in a good \nthing \xe2\x80\xa2 " but zeal is not in every case accompanied by \ncharity, and vain were the effort to create a surplus stock \nof one virtue to make up for the deficiency of another. \nWhat though you give more than your neighbor to the \n\n\n\nPURSUIT OF CHARITY. 117 \n\ngreat work of the Church, or go forth yourself as one of \nthe videttes of the sacramental host, and wear out the \nenergies of life in contending for the faith, or fall beneath \nyour banner in the foremost rank of battle ? Is the fiery \nardor that impelled you to such martyrdom more pleasing \nin the sight of Heaven than the meek and gentle charity \nthat more than all other virtues glorified the militant Cap- \ntain of your salvation? \n\nBelieve me, dear brethren ! against this dangerous de- \nlusion you cannot be too carefully guarded. A fearful \nthing it is, too fearful for expression in words, to deceive \none\'s self in " the vast concerns of an eternal scene." \nAn error in temporal affairs subsequent care and diligence \nmay retrieve, for the wounds of the soul religion provides \na healing balm, and the immedicable ills of the present \nlife have the consolatory promise of abundant compensa- \ntion in the life to come ; but to build for eternity upon \nthe shifting sands \xe2\x80\x94 to find the frail pleasure-bark at last \ncircling in the gyrations of the whirlpool \xe2\x80\x94 to see the \nlight in which we have so long trusted going out in the \ngathering gloom of a night that knows no morning \xe2\x80\x94 this \nis too frightful for a Christian\'s contemplation. Ah ! how \nmany on this very rock have wrecked immortal hopes ! \nFailing to discriminate between the true evidence of \nChristian character and the false criteria which have mis- \nled multitudes in the estimate of their spiritual state, they \nhave involved themselves in practical errors inevitably re- \nsulting in a moral ruin too vast for human thought to \ncompass or conceive. " This is a lamentation, and shall \nbe for a lamentation." \n\n\n\nIi8 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nXX. \n\nSeventeenth HBag of 3Lent \n\nHUMANITARIANISM AND CHRIS- \nTIANITY. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \nHaving your loins girt about with truth. \xe2\x80\x94 Eph. vi. 14. \n\nOne of the most hopeful signs of the present day is the \nchange which has come over the minds of the world\'s \nsceptics and atheists. The scoffing tone of the old \nassailers of Christianity is not upon the lips of the doubt- \ners of to-day. Their very doubt is passing through a \nreverent phase. Their scepticism may be spoken of as \nan attitude of earnest inquiry. A more humane, a more \ngentle spirit, pervades all their utterances. The leavening \ninfluence of Christianity has at length worked its way to \nthe very centre of the realm of doubt and disbelief. The \nmen to whom Christian belief is an impossibility, and to \nwhom the faith which renders the devout Christian so \nvividly conscious of the realities of the unseen world is \nutterly unknown, are beginning to confess that the heart \nof man is ever yearning for an object of worship. They \nhave of late been rearing up in their midst what they call \na religion, and devoting themselves to what they call a \nworship, \xe2\x80\x94 the religion of humanity; the worship of \nhumanity. Let us compare their religion with Christian- \nity, their worship with that of Christians. \n\n\n\nHUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 119 \n\nThey, by the religion of humanity, mean the prolonged \ncontemplation of all that is noble and heroic in the life \nof humanity in the past. They assert \xe2\x80\x94 and with some \ntruth \xe2\x80\x94 that it is not possible for the human mind to form \nany conception of humanity more exalted than that which \nmay be gathered from a diligent study of human history \nin the past. The virtues that we call godlike, \xe2\x80\x94 how \ncomes it that we have any idea of them? They say, be- \ncause we have noted them in the lives of the men who \nhave been. Attainments that we call heroic, \xe2\x80\x94 we have \nno notion of any, say they, but what we find recorded in \nthe history of the past. Our notions of self-sacrifice, of \ndevotion to the good of others, of a life of love, of charity \ndivine, are, they assert, existing in us simply because the \nlives of the men and women of past times present us with \ninstances of such. In order that what has been in the \npast may be prolonged into the future ; in order that \nhuman history may, in the future, write itself in lines as \nglowing as those which flash to us through the darkness \nof the past f \xe2\x80\x94 let us, they say, keep ever before us the \ncontemplation of the noblest achievements, the divinest \nthoughts, the deeds of tenderest devotion, which past \nhistory can present to us ; let us pay to the memories of \nthose whose influence upon the men of their own days \nwas most exalting, or the story of whose lives has stirred \nto noblest feelings the heart of succeeding generations, \nlet us pay to them the highest honor possible for us to \nrender to them ; let us reverence them ; let us worship \nthem ; let the thoughts of the living be directed towards \nthose who are no more seen, in a solemn union ; and let \n\n\n\n120 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nus call our united offering of adoration and praise the \nworship of humanity. \n\nIn this religion of humanity, the thoughts of the living \nare directed both towards the past and towards the future. \nThe past is contemplated, and the noblest souls of the \npast are worshipped, in order that the continuity of the \nhighest life of humanity may be preserved ; in order that \nthe future may be worthy of the past, may be in accord \nwith it ; in order that what has been realized once may \nbe realized again. But let us, my friends, look more \nclosely into the past of our humanitarian brethren ; let us \ndwell upon their future. Alas ! there is nothing more for \nus to contemplate. In the past and in the future, there \nis no God presented to our thoughts. There is no immor- \ntality for the souls of our forefathers. When their bodies \nreturned to dust, nothing more lingered behind than their \nmemories. All their aspirations unrealized on this earth, \nall their endeavors hindered from being worked out here, \nall their noble sorrows, all their hopes in a future of end- \nless growth in wisdom and love, were stifled in the dust \nof the grave. After all, \xe2\x80\x94 such is the sad confession of \nthese brethren of ours, \xe2\x80\x94 the old symbols which Christian- \nity caused to disappear were the right ones. The shat- \ntered column, and the inverted torch, \xe2\x80\x94 these are really, \naccording to the new humanitarian notions, true types of \nthe death which brings life to an abrupt close, and \nquenches the longings of the spirit of man. The past \nand the future have no other arena for human endeavor \nthan the visible world. In the future there will simply be \na succession of generations repeating the efforts of their \n\n\n\nHUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 121 \n\nforefathers, and preserving the remembrances of their \nthoughts and deeds. And, than this existence in the \nmemories of the men and women of the future, there is \nno other immortality for the human soul. They who ac- \ncept this hopeless gospel of latter days have to think of \nthe human spirit entering upon the sleep of annihilation. \nThere is no future life in which the mysteries which sur- \nround us here will be gradually unfolded to the eager souls \nof men. And in the present and the past there has been \nno divine aid for humanity in its strivings after a higher \nlife, in its passionate searchings after truth. Its existence \nin the past has been one of utter isolation ; and in the \nfuture the same loneliness is in store for it, \xe2\x80\x94 loneliness \nfollowed by the unbroken silence of annihilation. \n\nHopeless and sad as is this view of human life and \nhuman destiny, its adherents adopt a tone far different \nfrom the scoffing one indulged in by the sceptics of \nformer days. Sad and hopeless as it is, it has elements \nof nobleness within it. But these redeeming elements \nare in reality borrowed from the Christianity to. .which it \noffers its silent protest. My friends, the Christianity in \nwhich we find the hopes which sustain us along, the path \nof life, and which will be our solace as death, approaches, \nhas inshrined within it that reverence for the past life of \nhumanity which justifies us in recognizing- irx the humani- \ntarianism of to-day a higher tone than that which ani- \nmated the scepticism of former times.. We in qui\\ religion \nare encouraged to look back upon the, pa^t, with reverent \nfeelings, to keep alive in our hearts. .the remembrance of \nthe heroism and the devotion oX qux^ forefathers. But \n\n\n\n122 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe life of humanity in the past, which we contemplate, is \na life divinely aided. " God\'s dealings with his children \nin the past," is a phrase we are often dwelling upon. \n" The noble works that thou, O God, didst in the days of \nour fathers, and in the old times before them ; " these are \nwords which are uttered in your hearing Sunday after \nSunday. The literature which reveals to us the doings of \nGod to his people in the far-away past is preserved by us \nwith a reverence which we could not bestow upon it, were \nit less than divine. We call it "revelation," because it \ndiscloses to us the purposes of God towards a world \nwhose redemption and sanctification are ever in his \nthoughts. We call it " inspired," because we believe in \nhuman souls receiving divine aid. We call it " the word \nof God," because we are possessed by the thought that \nin God we all live and move and have our being, and that \nthe highest thoughts of men are but an outflow from the \nthoughts of God. The Bible, the book which we treas- \nure as the Book of books, will be to us an ever-present \nwitness of the sanctity of the life of humanity in the past. \nThe Bible will ever give to us this divine teaching, that \nthrough all times God is present in the world, manifesting \nhis divine purposes in the history of the nations, aiding \nmen in all their earnest strivings after truth, revealing to \nreverent workers the mysteries of creation, and enabling \nthe thoughts of men to grow in all divine knowledge. \n\nThe very word " humanity," which is often uttered by \nthe adherents of the modern religion of hopelessness, im- \nplies the contemplation of an ideal man, embodying the \nexcellences of all actual men. Such an ideal creation of \n\n\n\nHUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 123 \n\nthe human mind, we, of course, shall do ourselves no \nharm by dwelling upon ; but our Christian religion brings \nbefore us unceasingly the contemplation and worship of a \nDivine Man, not the ideal of the mind which the humani- \ntarians have set up, but the real man Christ Jesus, with \nwhom also the Divine is in mystic union. The mind may \ndwell upon the thought of an ideal man, as it may dwell \nupon any other poetic fancy. But the Jesus we contem- \nplate and adore is no fanciful creation. He is a real man. \nHe has lived on earth the life of a brother. He has en- \ntered into conscious sympathy with all the suffering that \nman in this life can be subject to. In his sacred person, \nthe Divine entered into union with the human. What a \ngodlike significance does the thought of this union im- \npart to human life ! God himself felt the need of becom- \ning incarnate so that he might enter into tender, quivering \nsympathy with his own creatures, and manifest his love \ntowards them. We as Christians have, then, no ideal man \nfor our thoughts to be content with idly musing on : we \nhave this real Divine Man, of whose historic existence \nwe can have no manner of doubt, and whose advent into \nthe world has altered the whole course of human history. \nIn the union of the Divine with the human in him, we are \nable to read the assurance of the possibility of our own \npresent and future union with the Divine, \xe2\x80\x94 the assurance \nof the reception of a redeemed humanity into union with \nGod. \n\nThere is not a single one of the notions which has \nfound a home in the religion which fails to recognize the \nimmortality of the human soul, which does not exist in a \n\n\n\n124 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nglorified form in the Christianity in which we find the \nGod of our forefathers and the Saviour of the world. \n\nOur forefathers, \xe2\x80\x94 what has humanitarianism to tell us \nof them consolatory to the human spirit ? All that is left \nof them, it says, is the dust beneath our feet, and the \nremembrances of them that we may happen to cherish. \nWith what hopes does our Christian religion inspire us? \nIt inspires us with the blessed hope of immortality for our \nforefathers and for ourselves. It teaches us of the spiritual \nbodies which we possess now, and which we shall possess, \ntoo, in the unseen world towards which we are hastening. \nIt tells us of the union of all the faithful departed in the \ncelestial Church, \xe2\x80\x94 their union with one another, and with \nthe Lord. It tells us of a divine humanity, \xe2\x80\x94 of a society \nof the spirits and souls of righteous men in eternal union \nwith the divinely human Jesus. It speaks to us, too, \nof the communion of saints, of the sweetness and joy \nwhich spring from a loving interchange of thought and \nsympathy with one another on earth, and from our open- \ning our hearts to all the tender messages which the \ngood Lord sends to us by his ministering spirits, the \nsaints in glory, who dwell with him in union, and who \nwith him work to bring about the final redemption of \nhumanity. \n\nThese are some of the main aspects of the Christian \ntruth with which our loins should ever be girt. Truth, \nwhat is it? is a question which is ever being asked. \nChristianity inspires us with the hope that the question is \none which is ever being answered in this life as we grow \nin holiness and love, and one which in a future life will \n\n\n\nHUMANITARIANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 125 \n\nbe more fully answered, \xe2\x80\x94 one, indeed, the answering of \nwhich will be one great feature of the mysterious life to \ncome. That modern system I have been speaking of \xe2\x80\x94 \nthe latest expression of the doubt and scepticism of the \nworld ; the humanitarianism, all whose excellences are \nbut the faintest shadows of the divine realities of Chris- \ntianity ; the system, all who accept which must banish \nhope from their hearts \xe2\x80\x94 tells us there is no answer to \nsuch questions ; that we shall never get beyond mere \nguesses and conjectures ; that the grave to which we \nare all journeying will hush forever the inquiring spirit, \nand silence forever the voices of revelation ; that the \nunseen world to which we all are hastening, some of us \nwith our hearts so eagerly desirous of knowing there \nsomething of the mysteries which baffle us here, \xe2\x80\x94 to \nwhich we as Christians go, so hopefully confident that \nthe revelation commenced here will be continued there, \nthat mysteries of creation will be unveiled to us, that the \nmystery of evil which lies like a dark shadow across our \npath in this world will be cleared away, that indeed the \nwhole life during the endless years before us will consist \nin a continuous growth in wisdom as well as love, \xe2\x80\x94 hu- \nmanitarianism, 1 say ; tells us that the unseen world to \nwhich we are going so eagerly and so hopefully is, after \nall, but a delusion, a world of darkness and annihilation ; \nand that the human soul has cherished all its passionate \ndesires, all its cravings for truth, in vain. \n\nAnd yet, as I have said, there are elements of noble- \nness in this latter-day humanitarianism. Beneath its as- \nsumption that the whole life of Christendom has been but \n\n\n\n126 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\na prolonged delusion, and life and immortality in Christ \nbut an idea with which the human mind has for centuries \nbeen dazzled, may be read what may be spoken of as an \nassertion from the sceptical side, of the divine possibili- \nties existing in human nature. Much that has of late \nbeen written by men of humanitarian views involves a \nrecognition of the truth " that through the ages one in- \ncreasing purpose runs," that the human mind has been \ngradually gaining a surer grasp of ideas which prompt to \nnobler action, that the longing for higher culture has been \ndeepening and strengthening itself, and that, as far as the \nonly life to which heed can be given by humanitarians is \nconcerned, men have been living with their loins more \nresolutely girt, and their lamps more brightly burning \\ \nliving with more earnestness of aim, and with a keener \ndesire to partake of the heritage of thought bequeathed to \nthem by generations past. But the finer spirits of Chris- \ntendom are now asserting just as emphatically the like \nbelief in the progressive life of humanity. They are \nboldly proclaiming their conviction that humanity in all \nits higher aims is divinely aided \xe2\x80\xa2 that in every human \nexcellence we may read a verification of the old assertion \nthat God created man in his own image ; that, indeed, the \nhigher life of humanity \xe2\x80\x94 its strivings after wisdom, its \nself-sacrificing love \xe2\x80\x94 is a continuous revelation to the \nworld of the Divine, whose union with the human in \nChrist is the foreshadowing of the final union of the Divine \nwith humanity redeemed and sanctified. In the Chris- \ntian system, as it is expounded by the most catholic- \nhearted divines of the day, the fullest recognition is given \n\n\n\nPERMANENCE OF LOVE. 127 \n\nof the essential divineness of the drama of human his- \ntory and civilization. \n\nmy friends ! let us cling to the faith of our fathers. \nLet us cherish all the hopes that have sprung up within \nthe human breast since the teachings of Christ began to \nspread through the world. Let us cling fast to our hopes \nof immortality. Let us live ever conscious that we bear \nwithin us, each of us, an immortal spirit ; that the Lord \nof heaven and earth has access to our spiritual natures by \nmeans of his own Divine Spirit \\ that the search for divine \ntruth is not a hopeless one ; that by a life of love, and of \nresignation to the divine will, M r e shall so grow into union \nwith the Divine as to be prepared to receive the whisper- \nings of divine wisdom, and to enter upon that growth in \ndivine knowledge, in heavenly truth, which shall be con- \ntinued in the endless life upon which all our hopes are \nfixed. \n\n\n\nXXI. \n\n3E>r$teentf] Dap of ILcttt* \nPERMANENCE OF LOVE. \n\nREV. EX-CHANCELLOR LIPSCOMB, LL.D. \nCharity never faileth. \xe2\x80\x94 1 Cor. xiii. 8. \n\nWhy is it that the numerous objects around us are \ntransient ? On every side they appeal to us, connect \nthemselves with hope and fear, enter into our business, \n\n\n\n128 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nawaken enterprise and ambition, and even inspire ardent \nlove ; yet they are ever passing away. Now, there must \nbe a discipline in all this, and Christianity assures us what \nit means. It is that we may be trained, in the midst of \nevanescence, for that which is permanent. And this pre- \nsupposes that there is not only an immortal soul in man, \nbut that, by reason of his present organization and its rela- \ntions, certain of his functions and acquirements are purely \ntemporary, while others are to live forever. In fact, \nthere are functions and acquirements which do not wait \nfor the death of the body. They fulfil their purpose and \nexpire long before age overtakes us. Yet, says Words- \nworth, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n"Not for this \nFaint I, nor mourn nor murmur : other gifts \nHave followed, for such loss, I would believe \nAbundant recompense." \n\nIt is in the spirit of a true and noble Christian philosophy \nthat this great moral poet of the century sees no cause to \n"mourn nor murmur," because our nature has a rejecting \ninstinct, which, as God ordains, throws off and leaves be- \nhind it tastes and habits that were once very useful as \nwell as precious. Keeping in mind, then, that this re- \njecting instinct is an organic part of our constitution, and \nhas its allotted functions to discharge, we can appreciate \nall the more St. Paul\'s line of thought in the closing \nverses of this chapter. "Love never faileth" Its exist- \nence, activity, manifestation, will be perpetuated. The \nwonderful spiritual gifts of which he had said so much, \xe2\x80\x94 \nprophecy, the ability to speak with tongues, knowledge, \n\n\n\nPERMANENCE OF LOVE. 129 \n\n\xe2\x80\x94 these should cease to exist. Although they proceeded \nfrom the Holy Ghost, and were mightily instrumental for \ngood in the incipient work of the Church, yet, neverthe- \nless, they were to terminate. Scaffoldings were they all, \nuseful as such, subserving most important ends, but mere \nscaffoldings, that could no longer remain when the edifice \nhad been finished. \n\nWhat, then, is the ideal of the Church? It is not \nsplendid endowments, for they are doomed to extinction ; \nbut the love "that never faileth." Whether the passing \naway of these gifts refers to the apostolic age, or to " the \nage to come," matters nothing ; since the idea of their \ndiscontinuation, rather than of the time it should occur, \nis foremost in St. Paul\'s mind. Imagine, then, his con- \nception of love, when he could contemplate the Church \nas a vast body laying off these mighty accompaniments \nof its career, and yet, so far from being weakened, would \nbe girded afresh with a power more resplendent, and dis- \nplay it in a form infinitely more majestic. Disrobed of \nthese habiliments, its contour would appear in the perfec- \ntion of sublimity ; its anatomy as an organism would be, \nas it were, transparent ; the whole framework, the various \nparts, the ligaments binding them together, the circulating \nlife-blood, would disclose the single animating principle \nof love. \n\nWould it startle the Corinthians to learn that even \nknowledge should vanish away ? " We know in part, and \nwe prophesy in part." All knowledge cannot be meant ; \nfor love itself includes much knowledge, and, in its ab- \nsence, would be simply emotional intensity. To possess \n\n\n\n130 \' CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe mere faculty of knowing, would be worthless, if the \nmind could not retain the contents of knowledge, and \nmake them a portion integrally of itself. What the apos- \ntle teaches is that such knowledge as stands related to \nthe present state and time, and grows directly out of \nimperfect human development, and shares the condition \nof all things earthly, is short-lived, and must terminate. \nTongues shall cease, but the gift of speech shall not be \nlost. And he explains himself by saying that the gifts \nrelating to prophecy and tongues were only partial, were \nexclusively adapted to a preliminary state of experience \nand activity, and completed their purpose in a temporary \nspiritual economy. We are here under specific, no less \nthan general limitations, and in certain directions we are \nrestrained more than in others. What the Spirit looks to \nis not knowledge alone, but to its moral aspects as well ; \nto humility, meekness, self-abasement, when the intellect \nis strongest, freest, and boldest ; nor will he expand the \nunderstanding and its expressional force for their own \nsakes, but develop them only so far as subservient to an \nobject higher than their immediate ends. Partial infor- \nmation, partial command of our mental faculties, partial \nuses of even the wisdom we possess, \xe2\x80\x94 this is the law of \nlimitation and restraint, under which the complex proba- \ntion of intellect, sensibility, volition, aspiration, and out- \nward activity, works out immeasurable results. Therefore, \nhe argues, we now know and prophesy " in part ; " at the \nbest, we are fragmentary and incomplete : and yet this im- \nperfection is connected with a perfect system, and leads up \nto it. The perfection will come; the existing economy \n\n\n\nPERMANENCE OF LOVE. 131 \n\nis its foreshadowing ; nor could knowledge give any ra- \ntional account of itself, nor could prophecy and tongues \nvindicate their worth, if the fuller splendors, of which \nthese are faint escapes of light, were not absolute cer- \ntainties of the future. Only when the " perfect is come," \nshall that which is "in part" be "done away." Institu- \ntions founded in providence, and upheld by the Spirit, \nare left to no chance or accident as to continuance, de- \ncay, extinction. God comes into them, abides, departs, \naccording to the counsel of his will. If he numbers our \ndays as living men, and keeps our times in his hand ; if \nonly his voice says, " Return, ye children of men," \xe2\x80\x94 \nthis is equally true of institutions. For the dead dust, \nman makes a grave \\ but the life of individuals, institu- \ntions, government, society, even the Church, is in God\'s \nkeeping, and he alone says, "Return." \n\nHow shall St. Paul set forth the relation of the partial \nto the perfect ? A truth lacks something if it cannot be \nillustrated, and a teacher is very defective in ability when \nhe cannot find a resemblance or an analogy to make his \nmeaning more perspicuous and vivid. Truth and teacher \nhave met in this magnificent chapter, on ground reserved, \nwe may venture to say, for their special occupancy and \ncompanionship. The great teacher sees the sublimest \nof truths in a glowing light, and most unlike Paul would \nhe be if no illustration came to hand spontaneously. Is \nthere something in the more hallowed moments of the \nsoul that suddenly re-instates the sense of childhood? \n" When I was a child," in the heathen city of Tarsus, the \ncapital of a Roman province ; the mountains of Taurus \n\n\n\n132 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nand the luxuriant plain and the flowing Cydnus near by ; \nthe crowded streets and gay population and excited \ngroups of talkers pressing on eye and ear ; the festivals \nof paganism, the strange contrasts of these with the life \nin his Jewish home; his training under the parental roof; \nthe daily reminders of the law, and the traditions of the \nPharisees, \xe2\x80\x94 what thoughts were they? Only those of a \nchild, understood and spoken as a child. No ordinary \nchild could he have been. Providence was shaping him \nthen for an apostle, so that while the holy Child Jesus was \ngrowing " in wisdom and stature " amid the hills of Naza- \nreth and in the nursery of the Virgin Mother\'s heart there \nwas far away in Cilicia a boy not much younger, who was \nin rearing there, under very unlike circumstances, to be \nhis chosen apostle to the Gentile world. Yet the boy \nSaul was but a child, and thought and spake " as a child." \nBut is childhood disallowed and set off in sharp contrast \nwith manhood ? Nay : childhood is of God no less than \nmanhood, as to quality of being. What is contrasted is \nthe childishness in the one case, and the perfected man- \nhood in the other. So that we suppose the apostle to \nmean that whatsoever is initial, immature, provisional, in \nthe child, has been put away to make room for some- \nthing better. The better implies the good, \xe2\x80\x94 a childish \ngood indeed, and yet a good from the hand of God, how- \never mixed with earthly imperfections. \n\nAnother movement occurs in the leading thought. Can \none think of knowledge without an involuntary recurrence \nof the symbol of light ? The symbol has quite supplanted \nthe thing signified, and the enlightened man is more hon- \n\n\n\nPERMANENCE OF LOVE, 133 \n\nored than the knowing man. St. Paul proceeds to say, \n" Now we see through a glass, darkly ; " the revealed Word \nof God is conveyed to us " in symbols and words which \nbut imperfectly express them " (Hodge, Delitzsch) ; and \nyet, while there is a " glass " or mirror, and the knowl- \nedge or vision of divine things is " darkly " given, there \nis a real knowledge, a true and blessed knowledge, for \n"we see." Enough is made intelligible for all the pur- \nposes of the spiritual mind, for all spiritual uses, in all? \nspiritual relationships of comprehension, conscience, voli- \ntion, affection, brotherhood ; enough for probation, re- \nsponsibility, culture, and life-time growth. What in; us. is. \ndenied? Only curiosity, excessive appetencies of the- \nfaculties, habits of perception and judging superinduced; \nin the intellect by the sensational portion of our nature, \xe2\x80\x94 \nthese are denied their morbid gratification. A plethora \nof evidence is denied, that faith may have its sphere. \nOver-strength and over-constraint of motive are denied, \nthat the will may be left free. Violent impulses of feeling \nare denied, that the heart may be intense without wild \nand erratic enthusiasm, treasuring its life of peaceful \nblessedness in unfathomable depths like the ocean, that \nkeeps its mass of waters in the vast hollows of the globe \nand uses the hills and mountains only to shape its shores. \nOn the other hand, what is granted to the mind in the \nrevelation of divine truth? Such views of God in Christ \nas the soul can realize in its present condition, and thereby \nform the one master-habit of a probationary being, viz., \nHow to see God in Christ. At present, we can only \nbegin to see as by reflection in a mirror ; and as, in the \n\n\n\n134 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\neducation of the senses to the finer work of earthly life, \nthe cultivation of the eye is the slowest and most exacting, \nthe longest, the most difficult, and that too because the \neye is the noblest of the special senses, so learn we, and \nnot without much patient exertion, and oft-repeated efforts, \nto see God in Christ as made known in his gospel and \nprovidence and Holy Spirit. Yet the mirror trains the \neye, and prepares it to see God through no such inter- \nvening medium. The promised vision is open, full, im- \nmediate. We shall see him "face to face" says St. Paul. \n"We shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is," \ndeclares St. John. And then partial knowledge shall \nexpand into perfect knowledge, and we shall know after \na new and divine manner, for nothing less than this is \nthe assurance, know as we are known. \n\n" Glorious hymn to Christian love" as Dr. Farrar calls \nthis chapter, what shall be its closing strain ? " And now \nabideth " (remains or continues), \xe2\x80\x94 the same duration as \ncompared with the evanescence of extraordinary gifts being \nascribed to the three, \xe2\x80\x94 " and now abideth faith, hope, \nlove, \'these three ; and the greatest of these is love." \nWho can doubt it after reading this chapter? Here it \nstands beside the great gifts of the " tongues of men and \nof angels," and of the prophetic insight, and of miracle- \nworking, and of philanthropy and martyrdom ; and, amid \nthis splendid array, love is greatest. In what it does, it \nis greatest. In what it is, it is greatest. Here, finally, it is \ngrouped with faith and hope, and yet the light that irra- \ndiates its form and features from the glory of God in the \nface of Jesus Christ is a lustre beyond that of the other \ntwo, because the "greatest of these is love." \n\n\n\nSOJOURNING WITH GOD. 135 \n\nXXII. \n\nNineteentfj Sag of 3Lent. \nSOJOURNING WITH GOD. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \nYe are strangers and sojourners with me. \xe2\x80\x94 Lev. xxv. 23. \n\nThe chosen people are about to take possession of the \npromised land, and God is instructing them concerning \ntheir polity and conduct in their new home and relations. \nOne of the specific directions given them is, that they \nare not to sell the land forever, because it belongs to \nhim, and they are his wards \xe2\x80\x94 tenants at will, dwelling on \nhis domain, under his patronage and protection. IJor six \nyears he leased to them the land, so to say ; but every \nseventh year he reclaimed it as his own, and it was to be \nneither tilled nor sown ; and after seven such sabbatic \nyears, in the fiftieth year, which was the year of jubilee, \nevery thing reverted with a still more special emphasis to \nthe Divine Proprietor \xe2\x96\xa0 and the people were not permitted \nto reap or gather any thing that grew of itself that year \neven from the unworked soil, but were to subsist on the \nproduct of the former years laid up in store for that pur- \npose. All this to teach them that the domain was Jeho- \nvah\'s, and they were only privileged occupants under him \n\xe2\x80\x94 that he was their patron, protector, benefactor, while \nthey were strangers and sojourners with God. \n\n\n\n136 CHURCH READER EOR LENT. \n\nIn a general sense, these sacred words describe the \ncondition of all men. All live by sufferance on the \nLord\'s estate, fed and sustained by his bounty. Whether \nwe recognize his rights and claims or not, all we have \nbelongs to him, and the continuance of every privilege \ndepends upon his will. You may revolt against his \nauthority, and fret at what you call fate ; but his provi- \ndence orders all, and death is only your eviction from \nthe trust and tenure you have abused. What is your \nlife, and what control has any man over his destiny? A \nshadow on the ground, a vapor in the air, an arrow speed- \ning to the mark, an eagle hasting to the prey, a post \nhurrying past with despatches, a swift ship gliding out of \nsight over the misty horizon \xe2\x80\x94 these are the Scripture \nemblems of what we are. Every day is but a new stage \nin the pilgrim\'s progress \xe2\x80\x94 every act and every pulse \nanother step toward the tomb. The frequent changes of \nfortune teach us that nothing here is certain but uncer- \ntainty, nothing constant but inconstancy, nothing real but \nunreality, nothing stable but instability. The loveliest \nspot we ever found on earth is but a halting-place for the \ntraveller \xe2\x80\x94 an oasis for the caravan in the desert. The \nworld itself, and all that it contains, present only the suc- \ncessive scenes of a moving panorama ; and our life is \nthe passage of a weaver\'s shuttle \xe2\x80\x94 a flying to and fro \xe2\x80\x94 \na mere coming and going \xe2\x80\x94 an entry and an exit. For \nwe are strangers and sojourners with God. \n\nBut what is in a general sense thus true of all, is in a \nspecial sense true of the spiritual and heavenly-minded. \n\n\n\nSOJOURNING WITH GOD, 137 \n\nAs Abraham was a stranger and a sojourner with the \nCanaanite and the Egyptian \xe2\x80\x94 as Jacob and his sons were \nstrangers and sojourners with Pharaoh, and the fugitive \nDavid with the king of Gath \xe2\x80\x94 so all godly people ac- \nknowledge themselves strangers and sojourners with God. \nThis is the picture of the Christian life that better than \nalmost any other expresses the condition and experiences \nof our Lord\'s faithful followers \xe2\x80\x94 not at home here \xe2\x80\x94 ever \non the move \xe2\x80\x94 living among aliens and enemies \xe2\x80\x94 subject \nto many privations and occasional persecutions \xe2\x80\x94 every \nmorning hearing afresh the summons, " Arise ye and \ndepart, for this is not your rest" \xe2\x80\x94 practically confess- \ning, with patriarchs and prophets, apostles and martyrs, \n"Here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to \ncome." The world knew not their Master, and knows not \nthem. If they were of the world, the world would love \nits own ; because they are not of the world, but he has \nchosen them out of the world, therefore the world hateth \nthem. Wholly of another character \xe2\x80\x94 another profession \n\xe2\x80\x94 another pursuit \xe2\x80\x94 aiming at other ends, and cheered \nby other hopes \xe2\x80\x94 the carnal, selfish, unbelieving world \ncannot possibly appreciate them, and they are constantly \nmisunderstood and misrepresented by the world. Re- \ngarding not the things which are seen and temporal, but \nthe things which are unseen and eternal, they are often \nstigmatized as fools and denounced as fanatics. Far dis- \ntant from their home, and surrounded by those who have \nno sympathy with them, they show their heavenly citizen- \nship by heavenly tempers, heavenly manners, heavenly \nconversation, all hallowed by the spirit of holiness. So \n\n\n\n138 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\none of the Fathers in the second century describes the \nChristians of his time : \n\n" They occupy their own native land, but as pilgrims \nin it. They bear all as citizens, and forbear all as for- \neigners. Every foreign land is to them a fatherland, and \nevery fatherland is foreign. They are in the flesh, but \nthey walk not after the flesh. They live on earth, but \nthey are citizens of heaven. They die, but with death \ntheir true life begins. Poor themselves, they make many \nrich ; destitute, they have all things in abundance ; de- \nspised, they are glorified in contempt. In a word \xe2\x80\x94 what \nthe soul is in the body, Christians are in the world. The \nsoul inhabits the body, but is not derived from it ; and \nChristians dwell in the world, but are not of it. The \nimmortal soul sojourns in a mortal tent ; and Christians \ninhabit a perishable house, while looking for an imperish- \nable in heaven." \n\nTo such heavenly-mindedness, my dear brethren, we \nall are called ; and without something of this spirit, what- \never our professions and formalities, we do but belie the \nname of Christian. " If ye then be risen with Christ, \nseek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth \non the right hand of God ; set your affections on things \nabove, not on things on the earth ; for ye are dead, and \nyour life is hid with Christ in God ; when Christ who is \nour life shall appear, then shall we also appear with him \nin glory." \n\nBowed down with many a burden, and weary because \nof the way, how much is there to cheer and comfort us \n\n\n\nSOJOURNING WITH GOD, 139 \n\nin God\'s good word to his suffering pilgrims \xe2\x80\x94 "Ye are \nstrangers and sojourners with me " ! \n\nThere is the idea of friendly recognition. As the \nnomad chief receives the tourist into his tent, and assures \nhim of his favor by the "covenant of salt;" so God \nhath made with us an everlasting covenant of grace, \nordered in all things and sure ; since which, he can never \ndisown us, never forsake us, never forget us, never cease \nto care for his own. \n\nThere is the idea of pleasant communion. As in the \nArab tent, between the sheik and his guest, there is a \nfree interchange of thought and feeling ; so between \nGod and the regenerate soul a sweet fellowship is estab- \nlished, with perfect access and unreserved confidence. \n"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him," and \nhis delight is in his saints, who are the excellent of the \nearth. \n\nThere is the idea of needful refreshment. "Turn in \nand rest a little," saith the patriarch to the wayfarers; \nand then brings forth bread and wine \xe2\x80\x94 the best that his \nstore affords \xe2\x80\x94 to cheer their spirits and revive their \nstrength. God spreads a table for his people in the wil- \nderness. With angels\' food he feeds them, and their cup \nruns over with blessing. He gives them to eat of the \nhidden manna, and restores their fainting souls with the \nnew wine of the kingdom. \n\nThere is the idea of faithful protection. The Arab \nwho has eaten with you will answer for your safety with \nhis own life, and so long as you remain with him none \nof his tribe shall harm a hair of your head. Believer in \n\n\n\n140 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nJesus ! do you not dwell in the secret place of the Most \nHigh, and abide under the shadow of the Almighty? \nHas he not shut you, like Noah, into the ark of your \nsalvation? Is not David\'s rock your rock, your fortress, \nyour high tower, and unfailing city of refuge ? \n\nThere is the idea of infallible guidance. The Oriental \nhost will not permit his guest to set forth alone, but goes \nwith him on every new track, grasps his hand in every \nsteep ascent, and holds him back from the brink of every \nprecipice. God said to Israel : " I will send my angel \nbefore thy face, to lead thee in the way, and bring thee \ninto the land whither thou goest." Yea, he said more : \n" My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee \nrest." Both promises are ours, my brethren ; and some- \nthing better than the pillar of cloud and fire, or the mani- \nfest glory of the resident God upon the mercy-seat, \nmarches in the van of his pilgrim host through the wil- \nderness, and will never leave us till the last member of \nhis redeemed Israel shall have passed clean over Jordan ! \n\nThere is the idea of a blessed destiny. Their divine \nGuide is leading them " to a good land, that floweth \nwith milk and honey " \xe2\x80\x94 "to a city of habitation " \xe2\x80\x94 "a \ncity that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is \nGod," \xe2\x80\x94 "a house not made with hands, eternal, in the \nheavens," \xe2\x80\x94 the Father\'s house of " many mansions," \nwhere Christ is now as he promised preparing a place \nfor his people, and where they are at last to be with \nhim and behold his glory. Oh ! with what a sweet and \nrestful confidence should we dismiss our groundless fears \nof the future, saying with the Psalmist \xe2\x80\x94 "Thou shalt \n\n\n\nSOJOURNING WITH GOD. 141 \n\nguide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to \nglory ! " The pilgrim has a home ; the weary has a rest- \ning-place ; the wanderer in the wilderness is a " fellow- \ncitizen with the saints and of the household of faith ; " \nand often have we seen him in the evening twilight, after \na long day\'s march over stony mountain and sultry plain, \nsitting at the door of the tent just pitched for the night, \nwith calm voice singing : \n\n" One sweetly solemn thought \n\nComes to me o\'er and o\'er \xe2\x80\x94 \nI\'m nearer to my home to-night \n\nThan e\'er I was before \xe2\x80\x94 \nNearer the bound of life, \n\nWhere falls my burden down \xe2\x80\x94 \nNearer to where I leave my cross, \n\nAnd where I take my crown ! " \n\nand with the next rising sun, like a giant refreshed with \nnew wine, joyfully resuming his journey, from the first \neminence attained gazing a moment through his glass at \nthe distant glory of the gold-and-crystal city, then bound- \ning forward, and making the mountains ring with the \n\nstrain : \n\n" There is my house and portion fair, \nMy treasure and my heart are there, \n\nAnd my abiding home ; \nFor me my elder brethren stay, \nAnd angels beckon me away, \n\nAnd Jesus bids me come ! " \n\nThe saintly Monica, after many years of weeping at \nthe nail-pierced feet, has at length received the answer \nto her prayers in the conversion of one dearer to her \n\n\n\n142 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthan life ; and is now ready, with good old Simeon, to \ndepart in peace, having seen the salvation of the Lord : \n" As for me, my son, nothing in this world hath longer \nany charm for me. What I do here, or why I should \nremain, I know not. But one wish I had, and that God \nhas abundantly granted me. Bury me where thou wilt, \nfor nowhere am I far from God." \n\nDark to some of you, O ye strangers and sojourners \nwith God ! may be the valley of the shadow of death ; \nbut ye cannot perish there, for He whose fellowship is \nimmortality is still with you, and you shall soon be with \nhim as never before ! Black and cold at your feet rolls \nthe river of terrors ; but lift your eyes a little, and you \nsee gleaming through the mist the pearl-gates beyond ! \nThere " the Captain of the Lord\'s host" is already pre- \nparing your escort ! \n\n" Even now is at hand \n\nThe angelical band \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe convoy attends \xe2\x80\x94 \nAn invincible troop of invisible friends ! \n\nReady winged for their flight \n\nTo the regions of light, \n\nThe horses are come \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe chariots of Israel to carry us home ! " \n\n\n\nCHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 143 \n\nXXIII. \n\nBEfoentfetfj Dag of %tnU \n\nCHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. \n\nREV. F. C. EWER, S.T.D. \nFollow me. \xe2\x80\x94 Matt. xvi. 24. \n\nFitting words for meditation for those who are trying \nto walk in the conformative way that belongs to Mid- \nLent 1 who, having considered and repented of their sins, \nlook to Jesus that they may catch somewhat of the spirit \nof his character, and conform their own lives to it, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" Follow me." \n\nWe are so familiar from earliest childhood with the \nfacts of Jesus\' life, and with his sayings, that it is difficult \nfor us to realize their grandeur and beauty. Something \nexceptional affects us more than something vastly more \nsublime. This is of daily occurrence ; we are more \namazed at a meteor than at the mighty ceaseless floods \nof light outpouring everywhere from the sun. And the \npreacher\'s task is the most difficult of human work. The \njournalist cannot keep up public interest in an event \nbeyond a week or two ; he is but a follower of public \ninterest, not a creator of it. The orator only speaks \noccasionally on some new burning theme. But the \npreacher\'s exceptional task is to take the thousand-told \ntale, and tell it over again \\ to create interest in that which \n\n\n\n144 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nis utterly familiar ; to put freshness into the stale, and to \niterate and re-iterate his task year after year. The won- \nder is not that so many fail, but that all*do not. Help \nthe preacher, then, yourselves. Jesus says, " Follow me." \n\nTake those two words, and think upon them. Is there \nanybody in earnest here ? If so, will you, my people, do \none thing for me this week every day, \xe2\x80\x94 nay, one thing \nfor yourselves, \xe2\x80\x94 take these two words three times each \nday, at morning, noon, and night, and think on them for \nthe space of a minute each t ; me? \n\nI wish to put three thoughts unto your minds. And \nthe first is this : Christianity is a human being. \n\nSpinoza conceived of and described pantheism. Though \nfalse, as a mere intellectual effort it was grand. If the \nworks containing the system had been published anony- \nmously, and Spinoza had died and his name had remained \nunknown, we should have lost nothing, \xe2\x80\x94 we should have \nhad the system entire. The great question with ancient \nintelligence was how to secure happiness and successful \nexistence as creatures, \xe2\x80\x94 whether we should live accord- \ning to the highest exercise of reason, or the best exercise \nof the affections or of the will. Plato conceived a grand \nphilosophy of life based on reason ; Zeno, a grand system \nbased on the will ; Epicurus, a grand system based on the \nbest exercise of the affections. They were all three noble \nschemes. But if the systems alone had come down to us, \nand their authors had sunk into forgetfulness, the systems \nwould not have been marred. Each can exist separate \nfrom its creator, and stand complete in itself. But it is \nnot so with Christianity. There is no Christianity with- \n\n\n\nCHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 145 \n\nout Christ. He is its inner energy. He is the thing we \nsee through his teachings. His character, his purity, his \nmeekness, \xe2\x80\x94 we cannot see and feel and realize his teach- \nings separate from himself. He is Christianity. Chris- \ntianity is a human being. We can understand the Stoic \nphilosophy, the Peripatetic, and the philosophy of the \nAcademy, without Zeno or Aristotle or Plato ; but we can- \nnot understand Christianity without understanding Christ. \nWe can practise the inductive philosophy without possess- \ning one particle of the abject meanness or despicable \ncharacteristics of Lord Bacon ; but one cannot be a Chris- \ntian by merely believing in Christian doctrines, one can- \nnot be a Christian without possessing the spirit of Christ. \nBut you will say, Christ, though possessing human na- \nture, was not personally human. In person he was \ndivine, \xe2\x80\x94 the Son of God, God the Son, God himself. \nI can understand a man, but do you tell me I cannot \nunderstand Christianity without understanding Christ? \nHow can I comprehend God ? Indeed it is true that he \nstands before us clothed in consummate dignity. But I \nventure to say, \xe2\x80\x94 and this is the second thought I give \nyou, \xe2\x80\x94 that, if Jesus be God, God then is more easily \ncomprehended than man. In the first place, women are \noften an enigma to men, and I suppose that men are \nequally an enigma to women. And it is very certain that \nmen are often an enigma to each other. There is a great \ndeal of good in every man and every woman, and there \nis a great deal of bad in every man and every woman ; \nand so it follows that all our acts and words lie rooted \nback in a very complicated soil of mixed motives. And \n\n\n\n146 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nit is the most difficult of all things to read each other \nthoroughly on this account. But Jesus Christ was with- \nout sin. And there is nothing so transparent as single- \nness of purpose, and truth, and purity, and meekness, and \nbravery, and honesty, and unselfishness. Sincerity is per- \nfectly intelligible. And there is no man living, or that ever \nhas lived, so easily comprehended as Jesus Christ. \n\nThus if Christianity is to be accepted, and if there is \nno Christianity without Christ, if he is its heart and soul \nand nucleus and life \xe2\x80\x94 if it is a mere empty shell without \nhim, then he and his character all being transparent are \ncalculated to take hold on all grades of life, philosopher \nand herd, prince and peasant, ancient and modern, bar- \nbarian and enlightened. " Follow me." But you will say, \nI can follow some man who is a little better than I am. \nBut Jesus Christ was perfect, \xe2\x80\x94 he was God. Very well, \nthen ; and this is the third thought that I would suggest \nto you. We were made to be like God. There are, it is \ntrue, grades of creatures in existence. It were useless for \nthe stone to strive to be like the tree, or the tree to strive \nto be like the lion. And though there be the distinct \ngrades of men, angels, archangels, cherubim, and even \nGod, yet mind, intelligence, all belongs to one family. \nAffection is the same all the way up. If I love, it may \nbe infinitely little in comparison with God\'s love, but it \nis a drop out of the same ocean. If I have a sense of \njustice, if I have a feeling of mercy, or do an act of for- \ngiveness, it is the same in quality all the way up to God. \n[ do not belong alone to the human family ; I belong to \nthe one great family of intelligence which includes even \n\n\n\nTHE CARNAL MIND. 147 \n\nGod himself; I am made in the image of God, and there \nis nothing in Jesus Christ of which we have not springs \nand principles in ourselves. And God speaks to us, \n" Follow me!" \n\nNor could we follow him, were it not that you were \nmade capable of indefinite expansion, endless unfolding \nand development. Alas ! indefinite expansion downward \nas well as upward ! If we look down at that unfolding in \nsin and misery, for ever and ever \xe2\x80\x94 Oh, clcse the great \ndoors upon the scene ! But when we look up \xe2\x80\x94 Ah ! \nwhat is expansion? A tree, a seed. Now, when I add \nthe factor of infinity to the developing, my mind refuses \nto take in the thought : but I begin to comprehend the \ndesign of my being ; a great hope is born within me \\ and \nI begin, too, to understand what God means when he \nlovingly bends to me, and whispers the words to my deep- \nest soul, " Follow thou me ! " \n\n\n\nXXIV. \n\naCforntg^first Sag of 3Lent. \nTHE CARNAL MIND. \n\nREV. J. W. PARKER, A.M. \n\nBecause the carnal mind is enmity against God : for it is not subject to \nthe law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they that are in the \nflesh cannot please God. \xe2\x80\x94 Rom. viii. 7, 8. \n\nWe are taught by the Apostle St. Paul in this passage, \nthat there is between the carnal mind and God an irrec- \n\n\n\n148 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\noncilable enmity. How needful, then, is it for all who \nwish to be not at enmity but at peace with God, to know \nwhat the apostle means by the carnal mind ! It would \nbe a worthy employment of Lent, to try to understand \nwhat is meant by a carnal mind, that we may more \neffectually, both now and at all times, guard ourselves \nagainst it. We may learn, perhaps, thus better to under- \nstand why there should be such a season as Lent, and to \nwhat practical uses we may turn our Lenten devotions \nand observances. \n\nWe may be able thereby to gain a more thorough \nconviction how entirely God would have us to belong to \nhimself, when we understand that it is not what we do \nalone in outward action that he would control, but that \nit is our mind which he would have to be one with his \nmind. We shall begin to see that even all triumphs over \nspecial temptations, in which we give evidence of a de- \nsire so far of pleasing God, must yet not be altogether \ndepended upon. They must be used as encouragements \nindeed to persevere in the work of completely subjecting \nour minds to the mind of God, not complacently re- \ngarded as proofs that we have already accomplished this \nsubjection. We have to remember that we are, and shall \nbe till death, upon our trial what we shall admire, love, \nearnestly long for, will to do, and actually do. We have \nto choose, not merely once for all, but day by day, what \nshall be the prevailing motive in our actions. It is what \nSt. Paul here calls the " mind," which is called upon to \nundergo this trial and to make this choice. The carnal \nmind chooses in one way, the spiritual mind chooses in \n\n\n\nTHE CARNAL MIND. 149 \n\nanother. Are we then, we ought to be repeatedly asking \nourselves, doing our utmost that the mind which is within \nus should be not carnal, but spiritual? Are we making \nthe mistake of striving to please God without giving our- \nselves the trouble to know what is the real bent of the \nmind which is in us? Would it not be well to be strict \nand severe in our self-questioning, when there is an evi- \ndent possibility of such mistake, when we may be pre- \nsuming that we are pleasing God, but the mind which is \nin us may be a carnal mind, and so be at enmity with \nhim ? \n\nThere does not appear to be any doubt as to the apos- \ntle\'s meaning when he speaks of the carnal mind. He \ncannot mean any other than a "mind" guided and de- \ntermined by "carnal" or fleshly influences; a " mind " \nwhich does not recognize the duty of commanding and \nrestraining all impulses of the " flesh," and becomes, \ninstead of a ruler, a slave ; a " mind " which may lead \nthose whom it possesses into all shameful excesses and \nwickednesses; a "mind" which, in pursuing its own \nlawless cravings, ceases to recognize its own dignity, \nmuch less the heavenly calling which God has set forth \nas the true end of all man\'s desires. \n\nBut yet there is in the apostle\'s words what may sug- \ngest doubt if they be not carefully weighed : "The carnal \nmind is enmity against God ; it is not subject to the law \nof God." But the apostle adds, "neither indeed can \nbe." And again, as if to give increased emphasis to his \nwords, he adds, "So they that are in the flesh cannot \nplease God." \n\n\n\nISO CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nNow, it is plain that if we attach one meaning to these \nwords, \xe2\x80\x94 which indeed they might possibly bear, taken \nalone, \xe2\x80\x94 there is an end to our consideration of this sub- \nject ; that is, if the apostle meant that the carnal mind \ncould not (in any way) become subject to the law of \nGod, or that they that are in the flesh could not (in any \nway) learn to please God, there could be no practical \ninferences as to conduct drawn from his words. No man \ncan fight against impossibilities. No one would attempt \nto alter his way of life, and to change his mind from too \ngreat an attachment to the things of sense, if at the \noutset he were assured that it was impossible to succeed. \nMen so enslaved to the things of sense are too ready to \nurge for their own excuse, that they cannot change, so \nthat it would seem quite contrary to the apostle\'s design \nto uphold this excuse ; yea, even to suggest it. \n\nThe meaning of the apostle may, then, safely be said \nnot to be, that in no way can the carnal mind become \nsubject to the law of God ; for it can truly become sub- \nject to that law, by ceasing to be a carnal mind, and so \nbecoming a spiritual mind. They, again, who are in the \nflesh, and while so in it are unable to please God, may \nyet find a way, short of self-destruction, not to be in the \nflesh, and thus learn how to please him. It is the way \nof the mortification .of all evil desires of the flesh, so \nthat they should no longer assume the mastery, and \ndecide what shall be the tone and character of a man\'s \nlife and actions. This is forcibly put by St. Paul in this \nsame part of his Epistle to the Romans : " Therefore, \nbrethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after \n\n\n\nTHE CARNAL MIND. 151 \n\nthe flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die : \nbut if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the \nbody, ye shall live." \n\nFrom these words, then, we learn very distinctly that \nthere is no impossibility in the work of destroying the \ncarnal mind within us ; but, nevertheless, that the task \nis one of great difficulty, and only not impossible because \nthe work is God\'s work, the work of the Holy Spirit of \nGod. Though that work is done with, and not without \nand against, man\'s will, yet does it still remain no less \nGod\'s work. Where the difficulty lies is the reluctance \nof man\'s will so to work with God, the struggle of the \ncarnal mind within against annihilation ; that state which \nis so forcibly described by the apostle in the seventh \nchapter of this epistle, and in which there may be a full \nacknowledgment of what is right, but an inability to do \nit. " For I delight in the law of God after the inward \nman : but I see another law in my members, warring \nagainst the law of my mind, and bringing me into cap- \ntivity to the law of sin which is in my members." \n\nThis is why too often unhappy men who have fallen \nunder the temptations of strong drink find the struggle \ntoo much for them. They cannot resist. They cannot \neven exert their will to seek by prayer for God\'s strength \nto help their weakness. They can do nothing but yield \nto the evil habit which is dragging them to destruction \nin body and soul. The carnal mind is a ruling principle, \nfighting against God within their souls, and even against \ntheir will they must needs obey. \n\nWhat, again, is it but this carnal mind which persuades \n\n\n\n152 . CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nso many to forget God? Sins of the shameful sort may \nbe shunned, but yet God is not remembered. It would \nseem that the fear of being committed to the perform- \nance of unwelcome duties keeps away numbers from \nGod. When I say, keeps them away from God, do not \nlet me be misunderstood as saying or implying that men \ncan really keep away from him, or escape from obliga- \ntions by resolving not to own them. They cannot do \nthis, but they can deceive themselves into believing that \nthey can ; and this is what the carnal mind is constantly \npersuading them to do. They can, through sloth and \nindifference, put away God from their thoughts. They \ncan systematically shun God\'s house, and never pray to \nGod even when they are alone in their chambers. They \ncan be also a fearful hinderance to those about them, wife \nand children, and all who are any way influenced by \nthem ; tempting them, if not by their words, yet by their \nexample, to forget God. Children sometimes become \nbetter than their parents ; but, sadly too often, they be- \ncome worse. They contract bad habits before they know \nthe sin of what they are doing. They run into danger- \nous circumstances and situations, with no warning voice \nfrom father or mother ; .or, if they are warned by them, \nhow are the warnings given enfeebled by this fatal defect ! \nThey are not the warnings of those who show by their \nown words and actions that they themselves are at least \ntrying to do their duty to God and their neighbor : they \nare but the words of those who advise others to do what \nthey themselves studiously refrain from doing. \n\nIf, then, it be true that results so evil ensue upon \n\n\n\nTHE CARNAL MIND. 153 \n\nleaving what St. Paul calls "the carnal mind" to prevail \nover us, it is but reasonable that we should strive to use \nall approved means to counteract those evils, and to con- \nvert that carnal mind into a spiritual mind. \n\nConsider, then, are there any more reasonable means \nthan those which are plainly set before us in Holy Scrip- \nture? If St. Paul is not mistaken, the "mind" that \nshould be spiritual becomes carnal by yielding to the \ntemptations of the flesh. Surely, then, if the flesh must \nbe subdued, it must be subdued by obvious means, \xe2\x80\x94 by \nsteadfastly resisting its tendencies towards unlawful indul- \ngences. And the discipline which is needful to correct \nexcess is not to be dispensed with in order to preserve \na mastery already won. If St. Paul found it needful to \nuse such discipline, who are we to say that in our case \nit is not needful? Who are we that should maintain that \nwe can without care and without discipline maintain with- \nin a spiritual mind, free from all danger from temptation \non the side of our fleshly nature? \n\nIf, again, the influence of the carnal mind has mani- \nfested itself, not so much in fleshly indulgence as in \nindifference to religious truth, testified by neglect of \nGod\'s worship, and a banishment from the mind of all \nthoughts of, eternity, is it an unreasonable remedy to \npropose some certain, definite, regular acts of worship, \nand acknowledgment of God? What could be proposed \nmore reasonable? I presume, of course, a belief in God, \nand a certain feeble desire to own him. Merely to wish \nor even to intend to be better, never in itself makes a \nman better. There must be action, or all will be of no \n\n\n\n154 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\navail. We must bring thoughts of God before our minds, \nthe thought of his existence, of his power, of his holiness, \nand, above all, of his love to us in Christ Jesus our Lord, \nregularly, and train ourselves to act as if these were \ntruths of infinite moment to us : or otherwise we shall \nnot subdue the carnal mind within \xe2\x80\xa2 we shall fail of \never attaining that great gift of God, to be not carnally \nbut spiritually minded, and so to have life in him. We \nshall be led inevitably to choose death instead of life, \n\xe2\x80\x94 the never-ending death instead of everlasting life in \nbody and soul. So momentous are the issues which \ndepend upon our choice now. So critical is the condi- \ntion of those who live as though there were no account \nto be given how their life is spent ! \n\n\n\nXXV. \n\n2Etx!entg=seconti \xc2\xa9ag of 3Lent, \nNOTHING BUT LEAVES. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \nHe found nothing but leaves. \xe2\x80\x94 Mark xi. 13. \n\nThe miracles of Jesus were unspoken sermons. Each \nwork of power which he wrought was intended as a lesson \nfor the soul. Thus, when he turned the water into wine \nat Cana, it was not merely an act of kindness to supply \na want : it was a lesson ; it taught that " man\'s extremity \nis God\'s opportunity ; " and, more, it taught that Jesus \n\n\n\nNO THING BUT LEA VES. 1 5 5 \n\nonly can change the weakness of our nature into strength. \nSo, when he opened a blind man\'s eyes, it was not merely \nan act of mercy to the suffering : it was a lesson teaching \nall men that Jesus only can open the eyes of those whom \nsin has blinded, so that they may see their sin, and repent \nthem of the evil. When the dead were raised, his glorious \nassurance was given that whosoever believeth in Jesus, \nthe resurrection and the life, shall never die. So it is \nwith the miracle recorded in the text. Je^us sees a fig- \ntree growing by the wayside, and full of leaves ; he draws \nnear, and looks for fruit, and finds none, " nothing but \nleaves." He curses the fruitless tree, and it withers away. \nThis, we must believe, was a symbolical act, a solemn \nsermon, for those standing by. In the first instance, the \nlesson was intended for the Jewish nation. The Jews \nwere full of the leaves of profession ; they were proud of \ntheir religious ordinances, their frequent fasts, their long \nprayers, their sacrifices : but they bore no fruit. There \nwas the gorgeous ceremonial of the temple, its altars \nsmoking with incense, and dripping with the blood of \nvictims ; there was the law, strictly observed and harshly \nenforced ; and with all this there was no fruit of holiness, \nof meekness, of gentleness, of love. The wounded travel- \nler lay by the way, and the priest and the Levite passed \nhim by. The Pharisee went up into the temple to pray, \nand he thanked God that he was better than his neighbor. \nThe Jew gave alms in charity, and called on all men to \nwitness his liberality. In all this there was "nothing but \nleaves." But that act of Jesus had a yet wider signifi- \ncance : it was a lesson for all time, and for all people ; it \n\n\n\n156 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nis a lesson for you and for me, warning us of the doom \nof a fruitless life. As we look back along the path of our \nlife, we see it strewed thickly with blessings. There is the \nspot where God saved us from a great danger ; there is \nthe place where he sent us an unexpected bounty ; there \nis the time when he forgave us our great sin. Look where \nwe may, however rough our path may have been, how- \never closely hedged in by the thorns of trouble, we shall \nsee blessings there, blooming like roses among the thorns. \nWe forget this too often; we forget how unceasing is \nGod\'s care for us. Every breath which we draw is fraught \nwith danger ; disease hangs in the air around us ; the \ngerm of death lurks in the water; we cannot mount a \nhorse, or enter a railway-carriage, without incurring a great \nrisk : and yet through all God hath holden us up. Surely \n" the goodness of God leadeth us to repentance,\' , for what \nhave we done to deserve all this? \n\nWhat have we done for God? There is childhood \nwith its play, there is youth with its dreams, there is man- \nhood with its work : what have we done for God ? Ah ! \nin too many cases we see life\'s pathway strewed with the \nleaves of wasted opportunities, and neglected chances, \nand duties left undone. \n\nSome of you have a diary in which you write down the \ndaily events of your life. There you can read a record \nof that business which you transacted, or the date when \nyou made that money, or lost that money ; you can know \nexactly what you owe to others, and what others owe to \nyou. But where is the entry of what you owe God? You \nknow exactly the year when your crops were abundant ; \n\n\n\nN O THING BUT LEA VES. 1 5 7 \n\nbut do you remember whether you kneeled down, and \nthanked God for making them so ? Whilst you were for- \ngetting him, he was not forgetting you. His hand was \nstretched out to turn aside that calamity ; his hand was \nthere to comfort when the sorrow came. Look into your \ndiary or memorandum-book again. There is your list of \nengagements for business or pleasure : there is the entry \nof to-morrow\'s appointment, of next week\'s amusement. \nBut is there no entry of that appointment which we must \nall keep, no warning line to remind us to prepare to meet \nour God, no line to whisper, " The time is short ; what \nhast thou done ? Consider thy ways, for God shall bring \nevery work into judgment, whether it be good or whether \nit be evil"? We all remember what we have done for \nourselves, \xe2\x80\x94 how we have made our way in the world : \nlet us try to remember whether we have done any thing \nfor God. Have our lives been fruitful in good works? If \nyou plant a tree, you look for fruit. God has placed us \nin the world, and he looks for fruit. My brethren, of how \nmany of your lives is the sad record written in heaven, \n" Nothing but leaves " ? \n\n"The fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long- \nsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temper- \nance." What do we know of these ? Here is a man who \ncalls himself a Christian, who goes to church, who says \nhis prayers, who thinks himself a good man : yet, if you \nspeak to him of a neighbor, his eyes flash ; he- tells you \nthat he hates him, that he would do any thing to injure \nhim. Yet he calls himself by the name of Him who \nprayed for his murderers. " Nothing but leaves." Here is \n\n\n\n158 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\na woman who goes to church, having a gorgeously-bound \nPrayer-book. She has been calling herself " a miserable \nsinner " with her lips, but where have her thoughts been? \nConcentrated on a neighbor\'s dress, or on the last arrrival \nin church. When the general confession was said, when \nwe confessed that we had erred and strayed from God\'s \nways like lost sheep, where were her thoughts then? \nHardly with her sins, for she was whispering to a friend, \nor adjusting her dress. When the absolution for sin was \nsolemnly pronounced, her head was not bowed in peni- \ntence : she was thinking of to-morrow\'s amusement, and \nso missed the place in her Prayer-book. And yet she \nwill tell you that she came to church to worship God. \n" Nothing but leaves." Here is a man whom the world \ncalls respectable, who occupies a prominent place in \nchurch, to whom people look up as a model of orthodoxy \non Sunday. But what of him on Monday? Go forth \ninto the haunts of business, and ask him if the holy words \nspoken on Sunday are in tune with the words or works of \nMonday ; and you will be forced to echo sadly what the \nangels are saying sadly in heaven, \xe2\x80\x94 "Nothing but leaves." \nThis is a serious matter for us all. If our lives have \nhitherto been fruitless in good works, shall we not now \nask God of his mercy to pardon the many fruitless years \nwhich are gone, and to spare us a little while that we may \namend our lives ? Shall we not ask him to give us yet \nanother chance before that awful sentence goes forth, \n"Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground?" that we \nmay bring forth the fruit of a holy life to the praise and \nglory of his holy name ? \n\n\n\nMISERICORDIA. 159 \n\n\n\nXXVI. \n\njfaurtlj Siinbag fa 3Lent \nMISERICORDIA. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \nThe Lord is plenteous in mercy. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. ciii. 8. \n\nIn the sacred canticles of the tuneful son of Jesse, how \noften are we delighted and transported with some strangely \nbeautiful expression, opening to us a new insight of our \nheavenly Father\'s heart ! David seems to have had larger \nexperience and better appreciation of the Divine mercy \nt than any other man of God\'s peculiarly favored people ; \nand therefore he was able to celebrate its glories and set \nforth its mighty achievements in strains surpassing those \nof all other saints and prophets. Yet even David, when \nhe tunes his harp to this transcendent theme, seems \nbaffled and bewildered amidst the heights and depths, \nthe lengths and breadths, which open before him ; and \nthe heavenly inspiration of his muse appears to labor for \nlanguage and illustration, to convey to others his own \nimpressions of what he feels to be beyond all power of \nutterance. Take this simple statement: "The Lord is \nplenteous in mercy." \n\nThe term "mercy" is derived from misericordia ; a \ncompound of miserans \xe2\x80\x94 pitying, and co?\' \xe2\x80\x94 the heart; \nor misei-ia cordis \xe2\x80\x94 pain of heart. In application to \n\n\n\n160 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nJehovah, then, it means the pity \xe2\x80\x94 the pain of his heart \nfor the guilty, the helpless, the perishing. In no human \nlanguage is there a word of richer import. It is sweeter \nthan sympathy, more tender than charity, and lies deeper \nthan the fountain of tears. Yet it is too poor to express \nthe feeling of our heavenly Father toward his earthly off- \nspring. The inspired writers adopt a variety of expedients \nto heighten its signification. Sometimes they connect an \nepithet with it, and we read of his "great mercy," "ten- \nder mercy," "loving mercy," "abundant mercy," "ever- \nlasting mercy." Sometimes they couple another term \nwith it, and we have "mercy and grace," "mercy and \ntruth," "mercy and goodness," "mercy and judgment," \n"mercy and compassion." Sometimes they employ the \nplural form . " mercies " \xe2\x80\x94 to indicate the frequency, the \nvariety, the endless modifications and adaptations, of \nthis most engaging trait of the Divine character. Then \nthe plural is intensified in the phrase "manifold mercies," \ngiving the idea of mercies wrapped up in mercies, a thou- \nsand contained in one. At last enumeration is outdone \nin "the multitude of his mercies" \xe2\x80\x94 mercies numberless, \nthronging upon mercies unnumbered \xe2\x80\x94 a host to which \nthe stars of heaven multiplied by all their beams of light \ncould scarcely furnish a competent arithmetic. The apos- \ntle calls Jehovah " the God and Father of all mercies," \nbecause he rejoiceth in his mercies as a father in his \nchildren ; and tells us that " he is rich in mercy to all \nthat call upon him," because no monarch ever dispensed \nhis bounty so freely ; and, though infinite in capacity, \n"full of mercy" \xe2\x80\x94 full as the ocean is of water, as the \n\n\n\nMISERICORDIA. 161 \n\natmosphere of light. One of the prophets declares that \n" he delighteth in mercy " \xe2\x80\x94 as if its exercise were his \nsupreme enjoyment ; and another exclaims, " Oh ! how \ngreat is his mercy ! " \xe2\x80\x94 as if no words were adequate to \nits expression ; while the royal Psalmist sets " his mercy \nabove the heavens," and adorns his sacred lyrics with the \nfrequent refrain \xe2\x80\x94 " His mercy endureth forever ! " \n\nBut none of these forms is more emphatic or more \nbeautiful than this in our text \xe2\x80\x94 " plenteous in mercy." \nA plenty is more than enough. The Divine mercy exceeds \nhuman necessity \xe2\x80\x94 more than enough for all our sins and \nsorrows \xe2\x80\x94 more than enough for present want and eternal \nsupply. There is an exuberance of mercy, which no \nlanguage can describe, nor imagination conceive. It \nspeaks in ancient prophecy, glows in the Gospel narrative, \nteems in the apostolic epistles, encircles with a living \nhalo the manger and the cross, brightens the path of the \nChurch through all her pilgrimage of tears, sprinkles with \ncelestial dew the blessed brow of infancy at the font, \nspreads with more than angels\' food the eucharistic feast \nfor the faithful, sheds the morning light of immortality \ninto the valley of the shadow of death, garnishes with all \nmanner of precious stones the golden architecture of the \nNew Jerusalem, flashes in the many-starred diadems, of \nthe redeemed cast down at the feet of the Lamb, and \nrings out forever in the choral harmony of the white- \nrobed myriads around the sapphire throne ! \n\nMore than enough ! And after we have been pardoned \nand restored, redeemed and delivered, revived and puri- \nfied, succored and comforted, a thousand thousand times, \n\n\n\n1 62 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthere is still enough and to spare. And when all the \nsaints, raised from the dust of death, and glorified to- \ngether with their Lord, shall have found in his presence \ntheir fulness of joy, and in his likeness their perfect satis- \nfaction, there shall still remain a plenitude \xe2\x80\x94 an infinite \nreserve \xe2\x80\x94 of mercy in the heart of God. And if there \nare other fallen worlds to share with us the supply, and \nif half the countless orbs that float in the far immensity \nare as full of sin and suffering as our own, yet is there \nenough for all the wants and woes of their incalculable \nand inconceivable population. It is a fountain which the \nuniverse can never exhaust, an ocean which eternity alone \ncan measure. An angel\'s line cannot fathom the abyss ; \nan angel\'s wing cannot compass the infinitude. The \npleroma of light is also the plei\'otna of love ; and it \nrequires the mind of God, to know the heart of God. \nWe stand in speechless amaze upon the brink of this un- \nsounded sea, or exclaim with St. Paul \xe2\x80\x94 "Oh the depth ! \n. . . how unsearchable ! . . . past finding out ! " \n\n"Thy mercies, gracious Lord ! to me, \nTo every soul, abound; \nA vast unfathomable sea, \n\nWhere all our thoughts are drowned. \n\n" Its streams the whole creation reach, \nSo plenteous is the store ; \nEnough for all, enough for each, \nEnough for evermore ! " \n\nTrust we then, my dear brethren ! in this revelation \nof our heavenly Father\'s heart. What need we more for \n\n\n\nMISERICORDIA. 163 \n\nour assurance and consolation in life or death? Poor, \ntrembling, contrite soul ! dismiss thy doubts and fears. \nDespair not for the greatness of thy guilt, the hardness \nof thy heart, the strength of evil habits, or the power of \nwicked spirits ; for " the Lord is plenteous in mercy." \nOh ! are there not those here who need this precious \nassuring word ? Are there not those here who fear the \nLord and obey the voice of his servant, yet because of \nthe weakness of their faith walk in darkness and have no \nlight? Are there not those here who have been baptized \nand confirmed, who habitually come to the holy com- \nmunion, who love the habitation of the Lord\'s house and \nthe place where his honor dwelleth, who are yet bowed \ndown with a sense of utter unworthiness and almost \ncrushed with the conscious burden of their sins? Come, \nthen, ye heavy-laden and broken-hearted ! Come and \nlook into the heart of God ! What see you there but \nmercy \xe2\x80\x94 mercy richer than the treasures of all kingdoms, \nand more inexhaustible than the light of the everlasting \nsun ? See ! he smiles a gracious welcome, and the hands \nstretched forth to receive thee have thy name engraven \nupon their palms. Look up, O dejected and penitent \nbrother ! \n\n" Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal." \n\nThe Star of Bethlehem has eclipsed all the constellations. \nCalvary tokens are thickening about the throne. Every \nseraph has found a new harp, and is singing a new song ; \nand clear and full above the ancient choral hallelujahs, \nswells the sweet refrain \xe2\x80\x94 " Plenteous in mercv ! " Take \n\n\n\n1 64 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nup the mighty antiphon, ye morning stars, and all ye sons \nof God ! and send it echoing, like the blended thunders \nof all worlds, through the rejoicing universe ! Let hell \ncatch the strain, and roll it back to heaven, louder than \nall the lamentations of the lost ! \xe2\x80\x94 " The Lord is plen- \nteous in mercy ! " \n\n\n\nXXVII. \n\nStomlgstfjirli Bag of ILettt. \nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIM LEY, A.M. \n\nIf thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give \nme to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given \nthee living water. \xe2\x80\x94 John iv. 10. \n\nOne of the incidents most vividly impressed upon the \nmemories of all attentive readers of the Gospels is this \ninterview of Jesus with the woman of Samaria. Jesus, in \nthe early days of his ministry, goes on foot with his dis- \nciples from Judaea to Galilee. He knows that the Jewish \nrulers have at last heard of his work and mission ; that \nthey have heard with indignation that he has gathered \naround him a band of disciples, and that these disciples, \nunder his guidance, are aiding to increase the numbers \nof his converts, and are baptizing the new converts in \nhis name. This especially fills them with wrath. John \nthe Baptist, the wild wandering preacher, also baptizes \n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 165 \n\nthose who are roused to repentance by his fiery words ; \nand the Jewish rulers have thrown no hinderance in his \nway. But they only tolerate in him what they dare not \ninterfere with. The people are so attached to John, and \nhold his holy, self-denying life in the Jordan deserts in \nsuch pious reverence, that it would be dangerous for the \nJewish leaders to try to stop his woik. But this new \nzealot, this Jesus of Nazareth, \xe2\x80\x94 his strange proceedings \nthey will put an end to, before he too becomes a danger- \nous favorite with the common folk. Jesus hears how \ntheir anger and jealousy are rearing themselves up against \nhim ; and doubtless deeming it better to go elsewhere, \nfor the present at all events, with his gospel of peace and \nsalvation, goes with his disciples towards Galilee. And \nhe must needs go through Samaria. His home at Naza- \nreth, whither he is really going, is some eighty miles dis- \ntant. He is going to walk all the way. Think of our \nSaviour and his disciples braving the glare of an Eastern \nsky as they go on their long walk \\ resting when the sun \nis hottest, or when they are weary and need refreshment \nand sleep, by the wayside wells or under the shade of \nthe fig-trees or in the caves of the rocks. They have \njourneyed on for about six and thirty miles, when they \ncome to Jacob\'s Well about midday ; and Jesus, weary, \nsits down to rest upon the low wall which encircles the \nwell, while his disciples go on to Sychar to buy food \nwherewith to make a midday meal. They doubtless go \nto seek out the shop or store of some Jewish resident in \nthis land of Samaria, from whom they may buy the bread \nthey need so much. For the Jews, as a little later on \n\n\n\n1 66 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe narrative itself teaches us, have no dealings with the \nSamaritans. Jews and Samaritans regard each other with \ndeadly hatred. True, the people of Samaria declare that \nthey are the descendants of Joseph, the most honorable \nof the sons of Jacob ; that they are the representatives \ntoo of the ten tribes of Israel. But the Jews laugh to \nscorn their claims. " No, no ! " they say : " the ten \ntribes were lost when the people of Israel were carried \noff captive into Persia and Assyria by Shalmaneser, the \nAssyrian king. A few stragglers who had hid themselves \nin the forests and mountains and caves of the surrounding \ndistrict did indeed return, and united themselves to the \nGreek and Syrian colonists who had established them- \nselves in the deserted country. You Samaritans are not \ntrue Israelites : you are only the descendants of the \nscanty remnant who united themselves in marriage with \nthe idolatrous Greeks and Syrians who brought their gods \nof brass and stone into the desolated land. You are not \ntrue Israelites ; you are not the true chosen people of \nGod. We despise you, we will treat you as outcasts. \nWe will not pollute ourselves by mingling with the off- \nspring of a heathen rabble. To do so would render us \nunclean." \n\nAnd so it is in vain that the Samaritans urge that they \nare really descended, through the line of Ephraim, from \nJoseph and Rachel ; and that Mount Gerizim, on which \ntheir forefathers had built a sacred temple, is the hill \nwhich had been chosen for the republication of the \nDivine law. The Jews defy them to prove their descent : \ntheir own descent from Judah is beyond all dispute. \n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 167 \n\nAnd, as to the temple which the Samaritans had built for \nthemselves, have they not, when assailed by persecution, \nbeen but too ready to renounce their God, and dedicate \nhis temple to Jupiter or some other heathen god ? \n\nAnd so Jews and Samaritans go on, generation after \ngeneration, dwelling apart and in utter enmity ; the Sa- \nmaritans looking upon the Jews as narrow-minded, cold- \nhearted bigots ; the Jews scorning the Samaritans as \noutcasts from the chosen people, and strangers to the one \ntrue God. There is never any interchange of courtesy \nbetween them, never any intercourse. Such would ren- \nder a Jew unclean. And to be unclean means, to a Jew, \nsomething terrible to think of. It means to be compelled \nto live alone, as a prisoner in house or tent, to have to \nbreak up all vessels polluted by his own touch, to have \nto wash his own garments \\ it means loss of time, loss of \nmoney, loss of pleasure, loss of every thing that makes \nlife endurable, as long as the imputation of uncleanness \nattaches to him : it means,- in short, to be forsaken by \nhis friends, and to be looked upon as cut off from God. \n\nWhile our Lord is waiting for his disciples to return, \nthere cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus \nsays unto her, " Give me to drink." The woman looks \nat him amazed. If one of her own despised nation, or \nany wandering stranger not a Jew, had asked her, she \nwould not have paused a moment, but would have given \nhim water to drink just as freely as Rebekah held her \npitcher to the lips of Eliezer. But the wearied stranger \nbefore her is a Jew, and she knows that the great doctors \nat Jerusalem have bidden the Jews have naught to do \n\n\n\n1 68 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nwith the Samaritans, \xe2\x80\x94 to eat no bread they have baked, \nto taste no wine they have pressed, to drink no water \nthey have drawn, and not even to exchange with them a \nword of kindly greeting. And so she says to our Lord \nin tones of surprise, " How is it that thou, being a Jew, \naskest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? " \nThen says Jesus unto her, " If thou knewest the gift of \nGod, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; \nthou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have \ngiven thee living water." These are words full of grace \nand beauty, which we may well ponder. But we may \nfirst consider the lesson which the fact of our Lord ad- \ndressing a Samaritan woman yields to us, and the mean- \ning which lies veiled beneath the words he uses. \n\nNotice that our Lord accosts the woman as soon as \nshe comes nigh to the well. He does not wait for her to \nspeak first. He looks upon her, and sees the deep need \nshe has to be told the good news of salvation. He speaks \nto her, and tells her what as yet he has not told even his \ndevoted disciples. She seeks not him, yet he is resolved \nto be found of her. Others come to him with earnest \nand passionate entreaty, falling at his feet, touching the \nhem of his garment, washing his feet with penitent tears. \nThe woman of Samaria comes not thus. She does not \nknowingly come to him at all. She comes simply to draw \nwater to satisfy the thirst of herself and family. She \ncomes little thinking of the gracious offering of living \nwater which the Messiah \xe2\x80\x94 the long-looked-for Messiah \n\xe2\x80\x94 would make to her. She comes to the well, and sees \nresting there a stranger ; but what is he to her ? He is \n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 169 \n\nbut a Jew, who thinks scorn of such as she is. She is not \ngoing to say any thing to one who thinks the very air \npolluted by her presence. And yet that Jewish stranger, \nresting in his thirstiness and weariness at the well-side, \nspeaks to her. He says unto her, " Give me to drink." \nAt first these words seem not to have any deep-hidden \nmeaning ; but wait, read on, listen to the gracious talk \nthey lead up to. You see quickly how they are meant to \nlead the woman\'s thoughts gently from the water which \nbubbles up from the well-spring, to the water of life, the \nheavenly gift which Jesus himself can bestow. And, that \nChrist should thus speak to the Samaritan woman for the \nsake of preparing her mind for the good tidings he goes \non to reveal to her, shows that he had come to seek and \nto save the souls of all, \xe2\x80\x94 of Gentiles as well as of Jews ; \nof the Samaritans, the doubtful descendants of Joseph, as \nwell as of the Jews, the undoubted children of Judah. \nThe inspired voice of the aged Simeon had declared that \nthe child Jesus was the light to lighten the Gentiles, and \nthe glory of his people Israel. Upon Jew and Gentile, \nthen, Jesus sheds his light, and to both reveals his glory. \nThe portals of his Church shall be open both to the Jews \nwho worship at Jerusalem, and to the Samaritans whose \nadoration was wont to ascend to the Most High from the \ntemple on Mount Gerizim. Henceforth there shall be \nnone despised, none unclean : all shall be proclaimed \nequal in God\'s sight ; what God has cleansed, no man \nshall call common. The self-righteousness which causes \nJew to treat Samaritan as an outlaw, as an abhorred out- \ncast, shall have no entrance into the Church of Christ ; \n\n\n\n170 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe unrighteous contention, the mutual cursings, the bitter \nhatred, which keep Jew and Samaritan asunder, must not \nbe known amongst the followers of Jesus, amongst those \nwho accept his blessed gospel of peace and goodwill. \n\nAs we have also seen, my friends, in reply to the ex- \nclamation of the Samaritan woman at being asked for \nwater by a Jew, Jesus utters very gracious words : " If \nthou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to \nthee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, \nand he would have given thee living water." " Living \nwater ! " The full force of this phrase will not strike us \nuntil we have paused for a moment to consider the images \nit would give rise to in the mind of one who dwelt be- \nneath an Eastern sky. We ourselves, my friends, are not \nso much touched by imagery relating to water and rain, \nas we are by imagery having reference to sunshine and \nbright blue skies. With the abundant moisture that falls \nupon these Western lands, our most grateful feelings are \nroused by the thought, not of rain, but of cheerful sun- \nshine ; and, like the old Greeks, we are tempted to salute \nthe sun with a joyful exclamation every time he emerges \nfrom behind a cloud. And yet we are not insensible to \nthe blessings which God vouchsafes to us by sending his \nbounteous rain upon the earth. We are not so heedless \nas to forget the manifold uses of water, \xe2\x80\x94 as to forget that \nwater is the source of all the changefulness and beauty \nin the clouds above us ; that water is the instrument by \nwhich the earth has been modelled into symmetry, and its \nrocks fashioned into glorious forms ; that under the form \nof snow it robes the mountain summits with transcendent \n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 171 \n\nlight \\ that under the guise of morning dew it clothes the \nautumn fields with silvery sheen ; that it is but drops of \nfalling rain turning back sunlight to the eye, that produce \nthe many-colored rainbow ; that we see its varied glory \nand beauty in the foam of the torrent, in the broad lake, \nin the glancing river, in the wild, unwearied, unconquer- \nable sea. Still we should fail to be touched by the beauty \nand depth of meaning involved in the words " living \nwater/\' as would a dweller in an Eastern land. To un- \nderstand the images which would be called up in the \nmind of an Eastern by mention of "living water," we \nshould read our Bibles carefully, and note the abundant \nreferences to wells and water-springs, and how often they \nare spoken of as " special gifts of God, life-giving and \ndivine." Or, we should have journeyed to the far East, \nwe should know the weariness of wandering in a sandy \ndesert, with a scorching sun in a burning sky, the air \naround all cloudy with dust, the distant mountains quiv- \nering in the tremulous haze. We should know what it is \nto suffer from enervating heat, from torturing thirst. Our \nminds would then gratefully welcome the thought of liv- \ning water. At the sound of such words, we should think \nwith delight of every thing associated with water : we \nshould think of the spring of water rising up under the \nshadow of a great rock in a weary land, of the well dug \nin the desert long ago by patriarchal hands, and of our \nown delight at reaching the same at the close of a toil- \nsome day. \n\nBut by living water Jesus does not mean earthly water. \nHe means a gift which is from heaven. He means the \n\n\n\n172 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndivine life which flows from himself. He means the divine \nspiritual life which is ever outflowing from his sacred heart \ninto the souls of his earthly brethren. Of this living water, \nearthly water is his own chosen symbol. And the more \nwe ponder the symbol, the more are we struck by its \nmarvellous appropriateness. Water ! what is it ? Is it not \nlife-giving and nourishing? Where there is water, there is \nlife ; where there is life, there is water. The land is barren \nand dry where no water is, but even the wilderness may \nbe made to blossom as the rose if the clouds do but pour \ntheir moisture upon it. No wonder that the earliest of \nthe great Greek philosophers in his search after truth con- \nceived that water was the ultimate principle of the uni- \nverse, the very essence of all created matter, the primal \nsubstance from which, by manifold and subtle transforma- \ntions, the great Creator had made all things. \n\nThink again of water as it passes through its unchan- \nging cycle of change, \xe2\x80\x94 as caressed by the sunbeams it \nsprings up from the ocean, springs up to the highest vault \nof heaven, in the form of vapor invisible to the human \neye ; as it there becomes visible in the moving clouds, \nwhich form what has been called Nature\'s ever-changing \npicture-gallery ; as it descends in the form of star- \ncrystalled snow, or in drops of rain ; as it becomes massed \naround the mountain summits in snow-fields of dazzling \nwhiteness ; as it descends the winding valleys in the form \nof glaciers ; as it trickles down the mountain gulleys in \ntiny rills ; as it leaps over crags in foaming cataracts ; \nas after various omnipresent cleansing and fertilizing work, \n\xe2\x80\x94 making the grass to grow upon the mountains, and \n\n\n\nTHE WOMAN AT THE WELL. 173 \n\ncausing the herb to grow for the service of men, \xe2\x80\x94 it \ngathers together into river- channels, and hurries on to join \nonce more the waters of the ocean from which whilom it \nsprang. \n\nIs it not, in its various beneficent manifestations, a \nfitting symbol of the divine life which flows from the \nheart of Christ to enrich the souls of his human brethren ? \nJust as all fruitful soil and every thing living which springs \nfrom it are more or less saturated with the moisture which \nfalls upon it or is conveyed to it by a thousand tiny chan- \nnels, so are all who are members of the Christian Church \n\n\xe2\x80\x94 all who are in union with Christ \xe2\x80\x94 members of that \nChurch and in union with Christ by virtue of the divine \nlife flowing from the heart of Jesus to take up its abode in \ntheir hearts, and fill them with all spiritual blessings. \n\nWithout this divine life, we can have no spiritual life \nwithin us. If it be withdrawn from us, our souls droop \nand faint. They feel far from the heavenly home, ban- \nished from the Lord\'s presence. They feel themselves to \nbe in a barren and dry land where no water is. What- \never be the work which we have to do in this world, \nit will never be done with so much might, it will never \nbe done so effectually, as when our souls are throbbing \nwith the fulness of divine life. That artist was right, who, \nfeehjig it so hopeless for him to attempt to realize on \ncanvas the glorious visions which before had floated \nthrough his soul, used to kneel down and pray for more \ndivine life to be vouchsafed to him. Work of any kind \n\n\xe2\x80\x94 the work of the poet, of the artist, of the teacher, \nof the artisan, or of the woman who simply strives to \n\n\n\n174 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\norder her household aright, and to train up her children \nin the nurture and fear of the Lord \xe2\x80\x94 will be done most \nnobly when the soul is animated with the life which is ever \nflowing from the heart of Christ. \n\nO my friends ! may we ever strive and yearn for this \ndivine life, so that we may do the duties of this our \nearthly life with a strength which the Lord alone can im- \npart, with a clearness of spiritual vision which can alone \nbe granted by him, and so that even on this earth the \nheavenly life may be quickened within us, and a triumph- \nant progress commenced, \xe2\x80\x94 a progress which shall know \nno ending, but which shall be continued evermore in the \nspiritual world beyond ! \n\n\n\nXXVIII. \n\n3rtent2=fouttfj Hag of 3Lent. \nMARVELS OF MERCY. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nAs the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward \n\nthem that fear him. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. ciii. n. \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 \n\nWho, that knows the Divine mercy, can ever weary in \nsinging its wonders? When the royal poet touches this \ntheme, he seems transported with delight, and no form of \nwords is adequate to the utterance of his joy. The eighth \nverse is a simple but touching statement In the ninth \n\n\n\nMARVELS OF MERCY. 175 \n\nand tenth that statement is intensified by re-iteration and \namplification. Now the author rises from plain proposi- \ntions to sublime comparisons. Let us rise with him. Let \nus try to enter into his estimate of that which is inestim- \nable to all but the Infinite himself. " As the heaven is \nhigh above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them \nthat fear him." \n\nGlorious conception ! Go out, in the clear and quiet \nnight, and contemplate the stupendous altitude of the \nstarry cope \xe2\x80\x94 worlds on worlds, systems above systems, \nnebulae beyond nebulae, separated by distances for which \nwe have no measure, and of which we can conceive no \nidea. This is David\'s picture of the Divine mercy. \n\nOn the outer verge of the solar system rolls the great \nplanet Neptune. Its distance from the earth, though it \nmay be stated in miles, utterly confounds the imagination. \nHad Adam been endowed with the power of traversing \nthe void immensity ; had he set forth for that distant goal \nimmediately after his creation ; had he proceeded fifty \nmiles an hour, and lived to the present day ; he must \nhave been journeying yet, and far short of the end of his \njourney, for it would require more than six thousand \nyears. So high is the heaven above the earth ; yet so \ngreat is the mercy of the Lord toward them that fear him. \n\nBut within the limits of the solar system we are only \ncruising in a cluster of little islands lying along the coast \nof God\'s creation. The fixed stars, so called, are prob- \nably all suns, some of them vastly larger than that which \nmakes our day, and emitting many thousand times as \nmuch light ; yet they are so remote, that they appear but \n\n\n\n176 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nluminous points in the firmament ; and sweeping immeas- \nurable orbits, they never seem to change, by so much as \na hair\'s breadth, their relative positions. And the tele- \nscope reveals myriads more, so far beyond these, that they \nare utterly invisible to the unaided eye. And astronomers \ntell us of others \xe2\x80\x94 a host innumerable \xe2\x80\x94 situated at so \ninconceivable a distance, that light, travelling at the rate \nof a hundred and eighty thousand miles a second, or ten \nmillion and eight hundred thousand miles a minute, would \nrequire five hundred years to traverse the space between \nthem and us. And it is believed beyond all doubt that \nthere are others still \xe2\x80\x94 billions upon billions \xe2\x80\x94 so far \naway, that not a solitary ray from any one of them has \never yet visited this planet since the day of its creation, \nand will not for incalculable ages yet to come. So high \nis the heaven above the earth ; yet so great is the mercy \nof the Lord toward them that fear him. \n\nImpressed with this thought, I divest myself of mate- \nriality, and go forth, a disembodied spirit, to explore the \nvastness of the universe, that I may be able to form some \nfaint idea of my heavenly Father\'s mercy. With the speed \nof an angel\'s wing passing the outer orbits of the solar \nsystem, I direct my course toward some feebly glimmering \nstar, that seems a lone sentinel on one of the farthest out- \nposts of heaven. Sirius and Aldebaran fall behind me, \nOrion and the Pleiades ; while the twinkling point at \nwhich I aim expands into a magnificent orb, larger than \na million such as I have left. There arriving, I pause, \nand look back for my native planet. It is no longer visi- \nble. But in the direction whence I came, I catch the \n\n\n\nMARVELS OF MERCY. 177 \n\nfaint scintillations of a scarcely discernible star. It is our \nsun. Oh, what a distance I have travelled ! Yet so great \nis the mercy of the Lord toward them that fear him. \n\nI look upward again. New heavens reveal themselves \nabove me ; and the living sapphires, as numerous as ever, \nstill gem the azure immensity. I plume my spirit pinions \nfor another flight. I dart forward with the velocity of a \nsunbeam. I sweep through other wildernesses of un- \nknown worlds. Centuries are consumed in my passage. \nMultiplying my speed by millions, I mount with the ra- \npidity of thought for a thousand years. View after view \nis exhausted. Universe after universe is traversed. My- \nriads of suns succeeding myriads spring to light before \nme, expand into majestic orbs as I approach them, wheel \noff to the right and left as I pass, close in again behind \nme, dwindle into mere luminous points, and disappear in \nthe distance. Systems after systems, clusters above clus- \nters, nebulae beyond nebulae, rise like thin specks of haze \nupon my vision, and broaden and brighten into immense \nfields of suns, which I map off into sections and count by \nthe billion. O Lord, my God ! thy heaven is infinite ! \nYet so great is thy mercy toward them that fear thee. \n\nWho, then, that feareth him, can despise his mercy, or \ndespair of its redeeming power? Let us lay hold of his \nstrength, and work out our own salvation. It is not in \nthe province of Omnipotence to save us without our own \nconsent and co-operation. The Maker of the worlds \ncannot coerce the human will. In spite of infinite com- \npassion, the sinner chooses his own course, forms his own \ncharacter, fixes his own eternal state. God pleads with \n\n\n\n178 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhim, but cannot constrain him. Christ weeps over him, \nbut cannot avert his doom. Not a machine, but a free \nagent, Heaven cannot violate his moral constitution. If \nthe mainspring of a watch is wrong, the maker can remove \nit and put in another ; but if the human heart is perverse \nand rebellious, it cannot be corrected against its own \nvolition, without its own action, even by the almightiness \nof its Creator. Thought most awful and appalling \xe2\x80\x94 that \nhuman perverseness should baffle the love of God and \nthwart the wisdom of his mercy ! Yet so it is ; and for \nthose who persist in sin Christ hath died in vain ; and \nthe gospel of redemption is to them a savor of death unto \ndeath. Oh ! let us return to the mercy-seat, sprinkling \nour sinfulness with the atoning blood, and breathing the \nprayer of the contrite heart \xe2\x80\x94 " God be merciful to me a \nsinner." Then shall the Father of mercies smile and say \n\xe2\x80\x94 "Son, be of- good cheer ! thy sins be forgiven thee ! " \nand the devouring fire of his holiness, which now menaces \nthe guilty, shall melt the heart in its flame, but consume \nonly the guilt ; and with joyful appreciation we shall be \nable to sing \xe2\x80\x94 " As the heaven is high above the earth, \nso great is his mercy toward them that fear him ! " \n\n\n\nTHE HIDDEN LIFE. 179 \n\nXXIX. \n\nKmentg^fiftb Sag of 3Lent. \nTHE HIDDEN LIFE. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, M.A. \nYour life is hid with Christ in God. \xe2\x80\x94 Col. iii. 3. \n\nLife is a mystery, however we regard it. The life of \nour natural body is a mystery. The inner life of every \nman is a mystery. The life of the Christian soul is a \nmystery. The apostle tells us it is hid with Christ in \nGod. \n\nThink what a mystery the human soul is. The body is \na mystery, but is not the soul a greater one ? Think you \nthat the Divine Creator of body and soul would fashion \nthe outward fabric wonderfully, and not marvellously \nendow the indwelling spirit? Think you that that which \nhas but a short time to live, \xe2\x80\x94 which cometh up, and is \ncut down like a flower ; which fleeth as it were a shadow, \nand never continueth in one stay, \xe2\x80\x94 that the body, which \nere long will have, as Job says, to make its bed in the \ndarkness ; which will have to say to corruption, " Thou art \nmy father ; " to the worm, " Thou art my mother and my \nsister," \xe2\x80\x94 that the perishing body would be gifted with \ncomeliness and symmetry, and with organs the wonders of \nwhich men have been exploring for ages without exhaust- \ning them, \xe2\x80\x94 think you that the body would be so surpass- \n\n\n\n180 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\ning in marvels, without the soul being transcendently \nwondrous ? The body, the abode of unfathomable mystery \nthough it be, what is it without the soul? As soon as the \nsoul takes her flight, the body is seized upon by corrup- \ntion and the worm. But the soul is immortal. Think \nwhat is meant by the soul and its immortality ! Memory, \nimagination, reason, the emotions, and the will, \xe2\x80\x94 these \nare but so many faculties of the soul. These will never \ndie. These will not be buried with the body. Every im- \npression which has ever been made upon our souls will be \npreserved forever. Our earthly knowledge will not perish. \nWe shall, we may be very sure, be guided into higher \nknowledge. The memory of every day of bliss will abide \nwith us evermore. The love, the joy, the peace, and \nevery fruit of the Holy Spirit which our hearts have borne, \nwill cling to us forever. Eye indeed hath not seen, nor \near heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to \nconceive, the destiny which is in store for the human \nsoul. \n\nAnd it is the inmost depths of the Christian soul of \nwhich the apostle speaks. They are hid with Christ in \nGod. A Christian soul scarcely needs even an apostle\'s \nwords to tell this. The same Divine Spirit which illumined \nSt. Paul\'s soul, and unveiled to him this deep suggestive \ntruth, has access to the souls of all lovers of Jesus. They \nknow that St. Paul speaks what is divinely true. Their \nown experience has taught them so. Each individual soul \nknows that its history is a sealed book to all but Christ. \nNo human friend can press close enough to read all that \nis written on the tablets of the heart. The heart knoweth, \n\n\n\nTHE HIDDEN LIFE. 181 \n\nand the stranger comprehendeth not, not simply its own \nbitterness, but also its own joy, its own yearnings after \nChrist, its own aspirations for more holiness, its own re- \nsolves to walk in holy ways, \xe2\x80\x94 resolves naturally weak, but \nmade strong by the aid of Him without whom nothing is \nstrong, nothing is holy. Each soul knows its own inward \nstrivings after good, its own struggles with the tempter, \nits own encounters with surrounding evil, its own weak- \nness or strength in resisting the beguilements of the flesh ; \nand no eye other than the Lord\'s has read the souPs \nsecrets. \n\nYes, my friends, no other eye than the Lord\'s can read \nthe records of the soul\'s inner life. We can never thor- \noughly disclose ourselves to one another. We can never \nreveal to a human friend all the intensity of our inner life. \nThe human soul, though living within the confines of the \nhuman body, is, at the same time, on the borders of an \nunseen world. The Lord who dwells in the unseen world \nis nearer to the human soul than any earthly friend can \nbe. The soul is a sanctuary which God has called his \nown. "Behold, all souls are mine." And although our \nChristian life requires for its due fostering, that we should \nconfide in one another, that we should live in sweet com- \nmunion one with another, and in interchange of the good \nand noble thoughts which flow into our hearts from the \nAuthor of all goodness, yet we cannot reveal all the soul\'s \ninner thoughts to one another. It would seem as though \nwe could not get much beyond the threshold of one \nanother\'s souls. There is an innermost shrine which can- \nnot be entered by the closest human friend ; an inner- \n\n\n\n182 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nmost shrine in which we hold communion with the Lord, \n\xe2\x80\x94 a communion which indeed constitutes the hidden life \nof the soul. To no earthly friend can we reveal the \necstasy of such hidden communings. It would be irrev- \nerent curiosity for one to try with questionings and prob- \nings to force from another the hidden secrets of the soul\'s \nspiritual communing with the Lord. No earthly friend \nmust raise the veil which shrouds from view the life \nhidden with Christ in God. \n\nThe Christian soul is often visited with joys and sorrows \nwhich even the nearest friends know not of. You all \nknow well how your souls are touched by various little \nthings in every-day life, and how the start of joy or the \nthrob of pain is only known to yourselves and the Lord. \nYou hear, perhaps, a simple strain of music, or see some \nforgotten relic of your earlier days, or read all alone by \nthe fireside some book, or look into the faces of your \nchildren ; and instantly there come welling up within you \nthoughts whose only expression is a glistening tear. No \nearthly one knows how your hearts have been touched : \nbut in heaven there is One who knows ; the gentle epi- \nsode is henceforth a secret between you and him. \n\nWhat is this, my friends, but one of the phases of the \ncommunion of the soul with the Lord? We are not given \nto dwell much upon this aspect of the soul\'s union with \nChrist, of its life being thus hid with him. We are oft so \noverborne by the feeling of our own unworthiness, that we \nforget that the Lord knows the best of us as well as the \nworst. We think of him as the reader of our heart\'s \nsaddest secrets, but not as the inspirer of our brightest \n\n\n\nTHE HIDDEN LIFE. 183 \n\nthoughts and holiest desires. If we were to contemplate \nhim more in this light than we do, might we not be the \nbetter able to keep truer to ourselves, less liable to fall \naway from the high standard of duty we place before our- \nselves in our highest moments? In truth, the thought of \neach one of us might be, " Thou, O Lord, hast entered \ninto heart-communion with me, and my soul\'s noblest \nthoughts have not been hid from thee : but thou, too, \ncanst read what is vile within me ; and shalt thou have to \nsee the heart which thou hast consecrated by thy pres- \nence, become the abode of evil thoughts, the fountain \nwhence shall issue evil words and unholy deeds?" O \nmy friends ! we can hide our hearts, when stained with sin, \nwhen degrading thoughts have taken possession of them, \nfrom an earthly friend who has been in heart-nearness to \nus in moments of exaltation ; but we cannot do so from \nthe Lord. He has searched us out and known us. There \nis not a word in our tongue, but he knoweth it altogether. \nNo inward thought is hid from him. Whither shall we go \nfrom his Spirit ? The darkness which veils us from each \nother is no darkness with him, but the night is as clear as \nthe day. \n\nYou know, my friends, that in Christ we are bidden to \nbehold God manifest in the flesh. In him we are to be- \nhold the Divine in unison with the human. He came \ndown from heaven to unite himself, not simply to the \nhuman in the person of the Son of the blessed Mary, but \nalso to all humanity, \xe2\x80\x94 to bring all humanity into unison \nwith the Divine. This great work he is even now carrying \non. And he draws humanity into unity with the Divine, \n\n\n\n1 84 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nby drawing towards himself the individual members of \nthe human family. As they are drawn nearer and nearer \nto him, he inspires them more and more with his Divine \nSpirit. The human hearts which have become the \nabodes of his Spirit are so drawn into mystic union with \ntheir Lord, that their life is hid with Christ in God. So \nthat the apostle\'s words do but call our attention to one \nof the phases of the great work which the divine Re- \ndeemer is carrying on amongst the human souls of his \nearthly brethren. \n\nAnd it is well that we should from time to time think \nof this great work, \xe2\x80\x94 that we should dwell upon the \nthought that the Divine One is ever drawing near to us ; \nthat although by reason of our Lord\'s ascension into \nheaven, by reason of his retiring behind the veil which \nscreens from us the spiritual world, he is not visible to \nthe outward eye, he is nevertheless visible to the eye of \nfaith; that, though our outward hands may not touch \nhim, he can be received into the embraces of our souls ; \nthat, though no sound of his voice fall upon the out- \nward ear, the still small voice of his loving inspiration can \nmake itself heard within us. It is well that we should \nthink that the Divine is ever in our midst, \xe2\x80\x94 is not sun- \ndered from us by stellar space, but is ever with us, is ever \nour Immanuel. Oh, let us believe that the Divine One is \never near us, ever desirous to be welcomed by us, to be \nreceived by us as our Redeemer, to save us from sin, \nfrom frivolity, from ignorance, from narrowness of heart \nand mind, from worldly pride, from the bigotry and self- \nrighteousness which spring from a grovelling spiritual \n\n\n\nTHE HIDDEN LIFE. 185 \n\nlife ! Let us believe that he is ever yearning to carry on \nin us the great work of the incarnation, so that the Divine \nmay be united with the human in us, and the human be \nraised into union with the Divine ; so that indeed the \nword, the life, the thought of God may become flesh in \nus as in Christ Jesus our Lord. \n\nThis truth of the life of the Christian soul consisting \nin its union with the Lord should be very precious to us. \nIt is a truth of which men have different and varied ex- \nperiences. For, as it is possible for men to grow in grace \nand in knowledge of their Lord and Saviour, so is it pos- \nsible for some to enter into a closer union with the Lord \nthan has been vouchsafed to others. It is possible that \nsome in their religious life have not been as yet so richly \nblessed as others ; but all who have the faintest yearnings \nin their hearts towards Christ may feel assured that that \nyearning is not so feeble as to be unrecognized by the \nLord. He knows of the work begun in their souls. He \nknows that they are drawing nigh unto himself. He will \naid them to draw into nearer union still. He will so \ndraw near to them that his Divine Spirit shall be abun- \ndantly shed upon them, and that the divine work which \nstarted from such faint and feeble beginnings shall go on ; \nand that the souls so drawn to him shall in this life \nexperience the full blessing of having their inward life hid \nwith Christ in God, and in the life to come enjoy the \nfelicity of eternal union with the Lord. \n\n\n\n1 86 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nXXX. \n\n3Ctoent2**fxtfj \xc2\xa9ag of 3Lent. \nSIN IMMEASURABLY REMOVED. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nAs far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our trans- \ngressions from us. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. ciii. 12. \n\nDoubtless many of you are familiar with the Divine \nordinance of the scape-goat, recorded in the sixteenth \nchapter of Leviticus. The high-priest chose two he-goats \nfrom the flock, and presented them for a sin-offering \nbefore the Lord at the door of the tabernacle. Then he \ncast lots upon them, which should be for Jehovah, and \nwhich for Azazel. The former he slew, and sprinkled its \nblood upon the mercy-seat, to make atonement for the \ntransgressions of his people. Upon the head of the latter \nhe laid his hands, and confessed over it the sins of the \ncongregation, thus symbolically transferrfng their guilt to \ntheir typical substitute ; and sent it away into the wilder- \nness, where it was turned loose, or hurled over a precipice. \nThis whole transaction typified the work of Christ, who \ndied for our sins, and still lives to bear them away. As \none goat could not represent both the sacrificial death \nand the subsequent intercessory life, two were necessary \nto complete the type. In the one, Christ atones for us ; \nin the other, he is our ever-living Mediator. As he bore \n\n\n\nSIN IMMEASURA BL Y RE MO VED. 1 8 7 \n\nour sins upon the cross, he still bears them before his \nFather\'s throne. Reconciled by his death, we are saved \nby his life. \n\nThe Hebrew word Azazel, used in this connection, and \nnowhere else in Holy Scripture, seems to be a proper \nname ; and what or whom does it designate, but the \naccursed prince of evil ? To Azazel, Satan, the old ser- \npent, the scape-goat was consigned, laden with the guilt \nof Israel. It is fit that the author of sin should bear its \nultimate curse. He who brought it with him into our \nworld, must carry it out with him in his everlasting exile. \nHis own sin first cast him down from heaven ; and ours, \nwhich he has instigated, shall hurl him forth from the \nredeemed earth. Burdened with the double guilt of his \nown original crime, and that of those whom he has \nseduced from their allegiance to the eternal King, he \nshall sink in the bottomless pit of an irredeemable dam- \nnation, and the distance of the nethermost hell from the \nheaven of heavens shall measure the removal of our \ntransgressions from us. \n\nThis is God\'s method of putting away sin, and expel- \nling it from the universe forever. Fallen in the first \nAdam, we rise in the second. On him were laid the \niniquities of us all ; and he hath borne them away so far, \nthat the fierce accuser, however diligently he seek, shall \nnever find them, till they return in retributive wrath and \nruin upon his own devoted head. In our text, the vague- \nness of the thought indicates its vastness. The east is \ninfinitely removed from the west. The circumference of \nthe earth does not measure the interval. *The extremi- \n\n\n\nCHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\n\n\nties of its orbit do not touch the boundary. The remot- \nest planet of our system, swinging on its pendulum at \nevery oscillation five thousand four hundred and ninety- \ntwo millions of miles, does not approach the limit here \nsupposed. Neither the circuit of the sun nor the sweep \nof the stellar host, even were we able to form an adequate \nidea of such a distance, could help us to any conception \nof the immensity thus intimated. The stars that twinkle \nbillions of leagues beyond the rising day have an infinite \neast on the other side of them, and the constellations that \nglow as far beyond the vermilion curtains of the evening \nsend their beams still onward into .a boundless west. All \nis indefinite and illimitable. There is neither beginning \nnor end. Yet so far hath he removed our transgressions \nfrom us. \n\nMethinks I see the Adversary prosecuting the baleful \nquest, that he may have wherewith to charge us before \nthe great white throne. He seeks them in Gethsemane ; \nbut blood better than that of Abel cries from the ground, \nand tells him they are not there. He inquires for them \nat Golgotha ; but the rent rocks and open graves inform \nhim they are not there. He hastes to the hcly sepulchre ; \nbut two angels, sitting within the empty vault, assure him \nthey are not there. He descends to the shades of Hades ; \nbut a thousand happy spirits, rejoicing in the intelligence \nof their redemption, testify that their Redeemer did not \nleave them there. He returns to the Mount of Olives ; \nbut the chariot of the ascension has gone over the ever- \nlasting hills, and no black mantle of human guilt fell be- \nhind as it rose** Swifter than lightning, the wrathful fiend \n\n\n\nSIN IMMEASURABLY REMOVED. 189 \n\nshoots off into the infinitude of worlds, inquiring at every \nhabitation of intelligence, as he passes, whither went our \nChampion with the sins of his ransomed race ? " We saw \nhim as he swept by with his heavenly train," answer the \nplanets all, " and knew that he bore away the iniquities \nof our sister Earth, but none of his attendants tarried to \ntell us whither." He asks Sirius, and Sirius replies : \xe2\x80\x94 \n" I heard the sound of his trumpets, and saw the corus- \ncation of his chariots, and went forth to worship him ; but \nbefore I had finished my obeisance, he was beyond the \nbounds of the Galaxy." He interrogates Orion, and \nOrion responds : \xe2\x80\x94 " The voice of applauding millions \nfell upon my ear, and I beheld the returning Conqueror, \nwith a mighty concourse of his holy ones ; and as he went \nby, he waved me a gracious benediction, and I sent after \nhim a shout of joy that woke the echoes of a thousand \nworlds ; but in a moment the rear-guard of his host dis- \nappeared among the happy constellations." At the Plei- \nades he pauses and repeats the question, and the Pleiades \nexclaim : \xe2\x80\x94 "At the rushing of immortal wings we rose ; \nand lo ! the radiance of imperial ensigns, brighter than \na million suns; and amidst a triumphal array outdoing \nall magnificence, sat the incarnate Son of God upon his \nliving chariot-throne ; and at our reverent salutation, he \nlifted a diadem of many crowns, and showed a blood- \nmarked brow ; and his hands, upraised to bless us, were \npierced with ghastly wounds ; but to the music of the \nmorning stars, the celestial procession marched on, and \nwe caught the flash of helm and coronet from behind the \nbrightest of the nebulae." Thus through stratum after \n\n\n\n190 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nstratum of sidereal suns and systems, ever baffled in his \nvengeful quest, hastes the accursed inquisitor of doom, \nwhile all the powers and principalities in heavenly places \ntorment his unwilling ear with the same evangel of mercy : \n\xe2\x80\x94 " Bearing the crimes of one world, the spoils of an- \nother, and the crowns of all, the divine Conqueror has \npassed on into the blessed immensities and eternities ; and \nwe observed all the happy universes along his path doing \nhim delighted homage, and heard myriads of redeemed \nimmortals in his train chanting the wonders of his love, till \nfrom one end of heaven to the other rang the great chorus \nof triumph." Maddened and desperate at length, he \nswears by all the thrones of hell, and by the sevenfold \ncentral hell within him, that he will wreak his hitherto \nthwarted vengeance upon other innocent creations ; and \nsummoning all his baleful powers, he turns to see where \nhe may find his likeliest victim. But his hour is come \xe2\x80\x94 \nthe judgment of reprobate angels. Now shall ransomed \nhumanity be finally avenged of its adversary. The cruci- \nfied Hand which took away our curse hurls it with infinite \naggravations back upon its author ; and down he plunges, \na darkened and shattered sun, blasted and staggering \nthrough the wild chaos of crazed and dissolving worlds, \nto the place of eternal punishment, so remote from the \nseats of the blessed that never a ray of light fell upon its \ngloom, or seraph\'s wing waved over its battlements ; and \nfrom every province of Immanuel\'s happy empire, forever \npurged of the plague, rises once more the sweet refrain \n\xe2\x96\xa0 \xe2\x80\x94 " As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he \nremoved our transgressions from us ! " \n\n\n\nJUS TIFICA TION. 1 9 1 \n\nXXXI. \n\n2Ttacntg^cbetttb Uag of Eent. \nJUSTIFICATION. \n\nREV. F. W. FABER, D.D. \n\nBeing justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in \nChrist Jesus. \xe2\x80\x94 Rom. Hi. 24. \n\nAs the great work of the incarnation seems to flow \nout of creation, and to be the crowning and fulfilling \nof it, so does the work of justification proceed from the \nincarnation, or hang from it as its divine and glorious \nfruit. The justification of a sinner is surely one of the \nmost beautiful works of God, and deserves our most lov- \ning contemplation. Looking at it simply as the transit \nfrom a state of sin to a state of sanctifying grace, with- \nout any consideration of the dispositions remotely or \nproximately comprehended in it, it is full of wonder, and \nof the peculiar character of the Divine operations. The \nfirst moment of the life of grace is the last moment of \nthe life of sin : nay, rather, it is itself the death of sin. \nNothing comes between. Neither does God use the \ninstrumentality of angel or saint, but he himself immedi- \nately communicates that grace to his creature\'s soul ; and \nthe creature is justified not merely by an act of the Di- \nvine will, but by an unspeakable communication of the \nDivine nature. It is a greater work than the creation, for \n\n\n\n192 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nmany reasons. First of all, it implies the incarnation as \nwell. Then creation is simply out of nothing, whereas \njustification is accomplished on a previously reluctant \nmatter, \xe2\x80\x94 -the corrupt will of man. He, says St. Austin, \nwho made you without you, will not justify you without \nyou. Creation, again, is ordained for a natural good ; \njustification, for a supernatural one. To quote St. Austin \nagain, it is a greater thing to justify the impious than to \ncreate heaven and earth. The good of a single grace, \nsays St. Thomas, is greater than the natural good of the \nwhole universe ; and the Church in her collect teaches \nus that God manifests his omnipotence chiefly in sparing \nand showing mercy. \n\nLet us take a case to make it clear. A man goes \nforth from his house into the streets of London, in a state \nof sin. The weight of God\'s wrath, and the curse of \nthe blood of Christ, are heavy upon his soul. To the \nangels he is a sight of unutterable loathing and disgust, \nif his state is known to them. He would not dare to \nhave his sins whispered in the crowd, for the contempt \neven of his fellow-sinners would crush him to the earth. \nHe is the slave of the dark demon, in a bondage more \nfoul, more degrading, more tyrannical, more abject, than \nthe horrors of African slavery can show. In his breast, \nthough he hardly knows it, he has the beginnings of hell, \nand the germs of everlasting hatred of Almighty God. \nCain, savage and gloomy and restless, wandering curse- \ngoaded over the unpeopled earth, was not worse off than \nhe ; perhaps better. In the streets he meets a funeral. \nThoughts crowd into his mind. Faith is awake, and on \n\n\n\nJ US TIFICA TION. 1 9 3 \n\nthe watch. Grace disposes him for grace. The veil falls \nfrom sin ; and he turns from the hideous vision with \nshame, with detestation, with humility. The eye of his \nsoul glances to his crucified Redeemer. Fear has led \nthe way to hope, and hope has the heart to resolve, and \nfaith tells him that his resolution will be accepted, and \nhe loves \xe2\x80\x94 how can he help loving Him who will accept \nso poor a resolution ? There is a pressure on his soul. \nIt was the pressure of the Creator, omnipotent, immense, \nall-holy, and incomprehensible, on his living soul. The \nunseen hand was laid on him only for a moment. He \nhas not passed half a dozen shop-fronts, and the work is \ndone. He is contrite. Hell is vanquished. The angels \nof heaven are in a stir of joy. His soul is beautiful. \nGod is yearning over it with love and with ineffable desire. \nIt needs only one cold touch of death, and an eternity \nof glory lies with all its vast and spacious realms of \nvision before him. And yet this work so wonderful, so \nbeautiful, so altogether worthy of the Divine perfections, \nis not done once only, or now and then, or periodically, \nor to make an epoch in the world\'s history : it is being \naccomplished in churches, in hospitals, in prisons, on \nshipboard, on the scaffold, in the streets and fields of \ndaily labor, close to the mower or the reaper, or the \ngardener or the vine-dresser, who dreams not. that God \nis in his neighborhood, so busy, and at so stupendous a \nwork. For, to turn a child of Satan into a son. of God is \nso tremendous a work, that St. Peter Chrysologus says of \nit, that the angels are astonished, heaven marvels, earth \ntrembles, flesh cannot bear it, ears cannot take it in, the \n\n\n\ni 9 4 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nmind cannot reach it, the whole creation is too weak to \nendure its magnitude, and is short of intellect to esteem \nit rightly, and is afraid of believing it, because it is so \nmuch. \n\n\n\nXXXII. \n\n&foentg=eigf)tfj ffiap of 3Lwt. \nGO US FATHERLY COMPASSION. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nLike as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear \nhim \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. ciii. 13. \n\nBy two sublime similes the Psalmist has aided our \npoor estimate of the Divine mercy. By the first of them \nhe lifts us from earth to heaven ; by the second he carries \nus from one end of heaven to the other. Having trav- \nersed immensity and explored the universe without find- \ning an adequate similitude for Jehovah\'s compassion, he \nnow descends into the bosom of the family, and traces \nthe most touching illustration of his theme in the tender- \nness of the paternal heart. We will descend with him. \nHere we are at home ; experience comes to the help of \nimagination, and all is simple and easy to the understand- \ning even of childhood. Necessarily, indeed, the picture is \nimperfect, for it is a finite thing brought forward to sym- \nbolize an infinite. Better might the glow-worm represent \nthe sun, the sand-grain represent the globe, or the dew- \n\n\n\nGOD\'S FATHERLY COMPASSION 195 \n\n\n\ndrop represent the ocean. But the illustration is the best \nthat our human experience can furnish, and no possible \ncomparison could appeal more powerfully to the profound- \nest sympathies of our nature. " Like as a father pitieth \nhis children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." \n\nSee that feeble old man, with careworn and sorrowful \ncountenance, bending over the couch of that fair young \ninvalid ; now pillowing her aching head upon his bosom, \nnow bathing her fevered brow with his tears ; night after \nnight, in weariness and pain, watching the stars out in \nministrations of love at her side ; neglecting business, \nforgetting every interest, and sacrificing health and life \nitself, for her comfort and recovery. The wasted sufferer \nis the old man\'s daughter. Her mother is no more. \nBrother or sister has she none. He alone lives to care \nfor her. She is the dearest object\' to him on earth, all \nthat he has to love. The feelings of father, mother, sister, \nand brother, throb in his single heart. Suffering Chris- \ntian ! so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. \n\nThere is an obstinate and refractory boy. From in- \nfancy his intractableness has been plied with gentle dis- \nsuasives and mild remonstrances, such as none but a \nparent could employ. Sometimes the father has been \nforced to resort to more painful discipline. All expedients \nhave hitherto failed to bend or break the iron sinew in \nthe neck of the domestic rebel. Still severer measures \nare now resolved upon ; but the lad arrests the descend- \ning rod with confessions, and promises, and penitential \ntears. A hundred times already, in compassion to his \npleading child, has the father refrained and forgiven ; yet \n\n\n\n196 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\na hundred times has the offence been repeated, and ever \nwith new aggravations. Will it be otherwise now, if the \noffender is spared? So would the father fain persuade \nhimself. His heart melts at the tears of his son, his arm \nis paralyzed by the imploring tone, and the intended cor- \nrection becomes an affectionate caress. Penitent sinner ! \nso the Lord pitieth them that fear him. \n\nMake way for the returning prodigal ! Years ago he \nreceived his portion and went into a far country. Severed \nfrom the sweet conservative influences of home, and yield- \ning to the headlong impulse of youthful passion, he soon \nforgot his father\'s counsels, and squandered all he had in \nprofligate indulgence. Reduced to the last extremity, he \ndegraded himself to the condition of a swineherd ; and \nin his hunger, envied the filthy beasts their fare. Naked, \nfamishing, heart-broken, he remembers his former state, \nand resolves to return to his father. Will that father \nreceive the son who has so debased himself and dis- \nhonored his family? Surely, he will not be very cordial ; \nhe will meet him with somewhat of reserve ; and it will \nbe only after long penitence and probation, that he will \nrestore the ingrate to his full confidence and affection, \nand to his former place in his household. Nay, but he \nsees him coming, and his heart yearns for the wretched \nboy. He hastes to meet him ; falls upon his neck ; \nsmothers his confession with kisses ; calls for the best \nrobe, the embroidered sandals, the bracelet set with glit- \ntering gems, the preparation for joyous festivities, and \nthe merry-making dance and song ; because this his son \nwas dead, and is alive again \xe2\x80\x94 was lost, and is found. \n\n\n\nGOD\'S FATHERLY COMPASSION. 197 \n\nPoor contrite heart ! so the Lord pitieth them that fear \nhim. \n\nBut it deeply concerns us to know that we sustain the \ncharacter to which all this paternal pity is assured. Do \nwe fear God? Do we revere his holiness and his justice? \nDoes the dread of his displeasure deter us from the viola- \ntion of his law? Does the filial sentiment of duty and \naffection prompt us to obey him as our Father and honor \nhim as our King? When we have wronged him by \nrebellion and base ingratitude, do we seek his feet with \nhumble confessions, and fervent supplications, and honest \npurposes of amendment ? These are important questions \nfor us to answer. We are in danger of falling into the \nfatal mistake of those who apply indiscriminately to man- \nkind all that the Holy Scriptures say of God\'s compassion \nand clemency to the penitent believer in Christ ; not dis- \ncerning between the righteous and the wicked, between \nhim that serveth the Lord and him that serveth him not. \nBut we must remember that God is a discriminator of \ncharacter, though not a respecter of persons. He is \ngood to all ; but his redeemed people enjoy a peculiar \ninterest in his goodness. His tender mercies are over \nall his works ; but his tenderest mercies are for those \nwho forsake their sins and walk in his holy ways. He \nfreights the sun and the shower with blessings alike for \nthe just and the unjust, for the thankful and the unthank- \nful ; but such only as have been brought into the bond \nof his covenant, and made members of his beloved Son, \ncan have any claim upon his choicest, richest, sweetest \nmercies \xe2\x80\x94 his pardoning, purifying, renovating mercies \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\n198 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhis peace which passeth understanding \xe2\x80\x94 his joy unspeak- \nable and full of glory, the communion of his saints on \nearth, and the fellowship of his throne in heaven. They \nwhose hearts are not right with God have no part nor \nlot in the matter. They are still in the gall of bitterness \nand the bond of iniquity. They are alien enemies, con- \ndemned already, and the wrath of God abideth on them. \nJehovah hath other attributes than mercy ; and all his \nattributes agree in his moral government, like the concord \nof sweet sounds in a grand choral harmony. None of \nthem is sacrificed to another, or thrown into the back- \nground to make another\'s display the more conspicuous. \nIn every act of providence, in every dispensation of truth \nand grace, they unite, co-operate, and rejoice together. \nHand in hand, they guard the gates of the first paradise, \nand open those of the heavenly Jerusalem. "A God all \nmercy were a God unjust." But he is just as well as \nmerciful, and cannot acquit the guilty. He is holy as \nwell as merciful, and cannot be reconciled to sin. He is \ntrue and unchangeable, and his threatenings as well as his \npromises must be fulfilled. He is as much obliged to \npunish the incorrigible, as he is disposed to pardon the \npenitent. Refusing the terms of forgiveness, you must \ntake the penalty of transgression. The day is coming, \nwhen all the severer attributes shall rise up to avenge \ntheir insulted sister Mercy. Beware, I beseech you, of \n\nthat day ! \n\n" For justice to judgment shall call, \nAnd who shall their coming abide, \nWhen wrath the most fearful of all \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe wrath of the Lamb \xe2\x80\x94 is defied ! " \n\n\n\nCONTENTMENT. 199 \n\nO thou immortal Victim of our sins ! God of com- \npassion and clemency ! receive the humble sacrifice of \nour broken and contrite hearts, and enable us from ex- \nperience to testify with all thy pardoned people, that \xe2\x80\x94 \n" Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth \nthem that fear him " ! \n\n\n\nXXXIII. \n\nJtftf) Suntiag in ILettt. \nCONTENTMENT. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\nI have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. \xe2\x80\x94 \nPhil. iv. 11. \n\nWhen St. Paul had learned that lesson, he did not need \nmuch more schooling. To be content with such things \nas we have, is the hardest and greatest lesson which we \nhave to learn. We know that St. Paul was a very learned \nman ; mighty in the scriptures, brought up at the feet of \nGamaliel \xe2\x80\xa2 but he did not learn that lesson from books, \nnor from scribe, nor elder. He needed another school- \nmaster, and a different school ; and one day he found \nthat schoolmaster as he was going on the road to Damas- \ncus, when he heard a voice saying to him, " Saul, Saul, \nwhy persecutest thou me?" Jesus Christ became his \nMaster, and his school was the Christian life. Many and \n\n\n\n200 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhard were the lessons which were given him, at Lystra and \nPhilippi, in the judgment-hall of Felix and Agrippa, in \nthe Alexandrian ship, amid the waves at Melita, in the \nprison and the stocks ; but he learned them all, and so \nattained to the highest of all knowledge, \xe2\x80\x94 to be content. \nWe too have this lesson set us, and happy are we if we \nlearn it. There are many learned men who are ignorant \nin this matter. There are many who have the gift of \ntongues, who cannot say truly, " I am contented." There \nare travellers who can find their way round the world, \nwho have never found the road to heaven which leads \nby the way of contentment. I want you to go to school \nnow, my brethren, and to learn that lesson. Without it \nour Christianity is but a name, our hope of salvation is \na shadow. As God\'s people of old were cut off in the \nwilderness, and shut out of the promised land, because \nthey murmured, so with us to-day : murmuring lips can- \nnot sing the praises of the Lamb ; a discontented heart \ncan never send forth a thanksgiving. In this school we \nmust have a master. Some things may be learned with- \nout a teacher ; a man may master a trade or develop his \ngenius unaided : but if we want to learn contentment, we \nmust have Jesus Christ as our teacher. We must go to \nHim who murmured not, who pleased not himself, who \nbore all things. His school is open to you now, open \nto all ranks and classes, rich and poor, clever and igno- \nrant. Only come as little children desiring to be taught, \nand you shall learn a wisdom which is, in value, above \nrubies. \n\nLet us think, first of all, of the advantages and bless- \n\n\n\nCONTENTMENT. 201 \n\nings of contentment. It has been truly said, by a great \nwriter whose teaching I have embodied in this sermon, \nthat contentment is the remedy for all evils. The con- \ntented man can pass through the fire of affliction, and \nescape burning ; through seas of trouble, and the waves \nshall not go over his soul. He may endure hunger and \nnakedness, and yet not want. Contentment eases all \nlife\'s burdens, salves all wounds, and mends all rags. \nSurely there is no excuse for our discontent, since we are \nGod\'s : we are the clay, and he is the potter, and he has \na right to do with us as seemeth him best. We live by \nhis food ; we work by his light ; we breathe his air ; all \nwe have comes from him : how, then, dare we rebel \nagainst him? If misfortune comes upon us, content- \nment will remove its sting, since we know that we do not \ndepend on chance, but on God who doeth all things well. \nHappy are we if we fear dishonesty more than death, \nand esteem impatience worse than a fever, and pride \nmore terrible than loss of fortune. Happy are we if we \nthink that poverty is better than covetousness, and if \nwe let nothing trouble us except the knowledge that we \nhave done a base action, or spoken foolishly, or thought \nwickedly. \n\nAnd now let. us seek for some plain, practical rules for \nlearning contentment. First, let us always look at every \nmisfortune on both sides, and weigh it in both hands. \nA trouble may come upon us which is very bad for the \nbody, but very good for the soul. An enemy may heap \nreproaches upon us which are very hard to bear, but in \nthose harsh words we may hear of some of our faults for \n\n\n\n202 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe first time. We may lose the favor of our friends \nbecause we have tried to do our duty \xe2\x80\xa2 but what then ? \nwe have gained the favor of God. A wise man, over- \ntaken by a heavy storm of rain, will wrap his clothes \naround him, and think of the good which is being done \nto the crops : so, when the storm of trouble overtakes \nus, let us remember that it makes Christian virtues grow \nand increase. \n\nAgain, let us avoid a wish to change places with other \npeople ; and, instead of comparing ourselves with the \nmore prosperous, let us think of those who are worse \noff than ourselves. Would you have changed places with \nDives for the sake of his purple and fine linen ? Then \nremember that Dives was tormented in hell. Would you \nenvy Judas his thirty pieces of silver? Not if you re- \nmember his remorse and suicide. Would you have \nchanged places with Saul for the sake of a crown, or \nwith Absalom for the sake of his beauty? Then remem- \nber how Saul perished at Gilboa, and that Absalom died \na rebel to his father and his king. \n\nAgain, if you would learn contentment, when misfor- \ntune comes rather count up your blessings than your \nmiseries. Look for the flowers in your path : the thorns \nwill find you out without your seeking them. If you lose \nmoney, remember that you have health left ; if your \nbodily strength fails you, think that you have more time \nto look to your soul\'s health ; if your friends leave you, \nremember that you have God. Learn, also, riot to meet \ntroubles half way. Try not to fret about the possible \ncares which may come to-morrow : we have nothing to \n\n\n\nCONTENTMENT. 203 \n\ndo with to-morrow. We are dead to yesterday, and not \nyet born to the morrow : to-day only is ours. God has \nportioned out to every day its work, its burden, its \ntrouble ; and "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." \nStrive too, my brothers, to be satisfied with what you \nhave, rather than to be anxious for what you have not. \nYou could not quench your thirst better from a river than \nfrom a tiny spring, nor would the draught be sweeter from \na marble fountain than from a wayside pool. To the con- \ntented man, only one thing is an evil, that is sin ; since \n" who is he that will harm you if ye be followers of that \nwhich is good?" It is no evil to be poor, but it is a \ngreat evil to be vicious or impatient. To be hungry is \nnot so bad as to be gluttonous. Weariness is a less evil \nthan sloth, loneliness than bad company. The pains of \nthe body are better to bear than the torments of a lost \nsoul. If you would be truly happy, learn to look on your \ntroubles as God\'s blessings in disguise. Jacob said in his \nsorrow, " All these are against me : " yet those very things \nrestored him to his son and to comfort. What brought \nJoseph to honor? A pit and a prison. What brought \nDaniel to his advancement in Babylon ? A den of lions. \nWhat brought Jesus to the victory, and the right hand \nof his Father? A cruel cross. Yes, truly has it been \nsaid, " God sows blessings in the long furrows which the \nploughers plough in the back of the Church." What- \never else you pray for, pray that you may learn the les- \nson of contentment ; that you may feel truly that " all \nthings work together for good to them that love God ; " \nthat you may be able to say, alike in trouble and pros- \n\n\n\n204 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nperity, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him \ngood. For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, \ntherewith to be content." \n\n\n\nXXXIV. \n\nSTfoentg^nintf} Bag in 2Unt. \nTHE TWO MITES. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \n\nAnd Jesus looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the \ntreasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two \nmites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath \ncast in more than they all. For all these have of their abundance cast in \nunto the offerings of God; but she of her penury hath cast in all the \nliving that she had. \xe2\x80\x94 St. Luke xxi. 1-4. \n\nA good lesson is here taught us. The poor widow \noffered to God what, for the time being, was her little all. \nThe wealthy Jews, who had given their contributions, had \nbut given what they could well spare from the abundance \nthey possessed. It is well that we should heed the lesson \nhere implied. It is well that the poor should be reminded \nthat they, as well as the rich, can make acceptable offer- \nings to God. It is well that the rich should be told that \nthere is one thing in the world they cannot do so grandly, \nso royally, as the poor ; and that is giving. It is well \nthat the rich should be reminded that the loss of what \n\n\n\nTHE TWO MITES. 205 \n\nthey give distresses them but little, for they give it of \ntheir abundance. If they come to church, and give their \ngold to be used in God\'s service, none of their comforts \nwill thereby be diminished. They will be just as warmly \nclad, as daintily fed, as comfortably housed, as ever. \nThere will be no diminished glow in the winter\'s fire ; \nthere will be no tiresome cheese-paring to put up with. \nAll that the gift will affect will be the ruled page on \nwhich the record of expenses is kept. But to the really \npoor, giving comes much more home. To them, giving \nmeans extra pinching and contriving. It is liable to \nleave the purse empty altogether. It is liable to affect \nthe contents of the scanty larder. Those who know the \npoor best can tell of the many kindnesses they manifest \ntowards their neighbors whom distress or illness or any \ncalamity overtakes. They can tell, that, though their \nhoard is little, their hearts are great ; how out of their \npenury, but also out of the abundance of their kindliness, \nthey render self-denying help from their own slender \nmeal, and spare the choicest morsels to tempt a sick one \nto eat, and sacrifice their own rest to nurse one who \notherwise would have to contend with illness all alone. \n\nThey also who work amongst the poor, ministering to \ntheir spiritual wants, bringing to them in their poverty \nthe riches of the gospel of Christ, know well how to \nvalue the offerings which the poor, out of their penury, \nmake in God\'s house. At the churches such as you find \nin large towns, free and open to all, and at which the \nmaintenance of the services, and the carrying-on of the \nvarious works of charity in the parish, have to depend \n\n\n\n206 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\non the freewill offerings of the worshippers, the poor \nman\'s pence and the poor widow\'s mite assert their \npowers. The offerings, though singly small, united are \nabundant. Many parish clergymen would rather have the \npoor always with them, to aid them in their work, than \nhave to trust alone to the offerings of the few who are \nwell-to-do. The poor, after all, cast in more than the \nrich. Like the widow in the Gospel story, last in the \nsocial scale, they become first in the rank of givers. \nThe first truly become last, and the last first. \n\nBut the little incident of the widow and her two mites, \nwhich outweighed the gifts of the rich, may be so con- \ntemplated as to yield even a nobler lesson than the one \nconnected with giving of offerings which it teaches so \nplainly and unmistakably. \n\nThere is more than one kind of riches, there is more \nthan one kind of poverty, there is more than one kind \nof giving. The offerings of God mean more than gold \nand silver and pence. \n\nThere are some riches that are common to people of \nall ranks. Amongst both the rich and the poor, there \nmay be the riches of mental endowment ; there may be \nthe riches of a contented disposition ; there may be the \nriches of bodily health ; there may be the riches of per- \nsonal form and comeliness. There may be, too, various \nsorts of poverty. There may be the poverty of a mind \ndoomed by its natural dulness to abide in ignorance ; \nthere may be the poverty of a spirit prone to sadness and \nmelancholy, given always to indulge in gloomy forebod- \nings ; there may be the poverty of a frame diseased, and \n\n\n\nTHE TWO MITES, 207 \n\nheir to many ills ; there may be the poverty of a bodily \npresence mean and contemptible, lacking all beauty and \ngrace. But of all, whether their mental and bodily en- \ndowments be abundant or scanty, there is one offering \nrequired. It is required by God. It is the offering of \nthe whole life to him. And though we should expect \nthat what is offered should be offered in accordance with \nthe gospel rule, "Unto whomsoever much is given, of \nhim shall be much required," is it not too often other- \nwise? How oft, alas ! have the energies of a soul nobly \nendowed been devoted to the service of an earthly king, \nwhile the King of heaven has been forgotten and un- \nserved ! How oft have the sweetest-tempered and most \ngenial of men, in their light-hearted pursuit of pleasure, \nforgotten the Lord who gave them what he looked to \nhave returned to him ! How oft have health and strength \nof body been allied to feebleness of spiritual life, and \nbeen accompanied by no self-consecration to God ! How \noft have the riches of personal beauty which the Lord \nwould fain have had offered up to him to be further \nenriched with the beauty and the purity which come from \nbeholding his face, \xe2\x80\x94 how oft have they become the \nwilling slaves of sensual delights ! On the other hand, \nhave there not been some of the most devoted servants \nof the Lord who have had little else to bring to him than \na humble and contrite spirit, \xe2\x80\x94 who have been unlearned \nand simple, and yet by quiet perseverance in the well- \ndoing possible both to the wise and the simple, have \nattained to that which passeth all understanding? Have \nthere not been sad, desponding souls, who, by bringing \n\n\n\n208 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ntheir burdened lives to Christ, have found rest and peace, \nand the power to bear the yoke of sorrow ? Have there \nnot been afflicted ones whose weary lives have been \noffered to God, and whose souls have been thereby \nrichly blessed ? Have there not been others who with no \npersonal qualities to give them favor in the eyes of men, \n\xe2\x80\x94 who with weak bodily presence, and speech rude and \ncontemptible, have yet found favor with God, and have \nlived so as to glorify him abundantly? \n\nIn more ways than one the first may become last, and \nthe last first. The poor ones of this world, bereft of \nnatural endowments, widowed of earthly grace, may cast \ninto the treasury of the Lord offerings more than all they \nwho give of their abundance. \n\n\n\nXXXV. \n\nSHjirtutfj \xc2\xa9ag of 3Lent. \nCONVICTION OF SIN. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \nMy sin is ever before me. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. li. 3. \n\nThe first step in true repentance is to find out our sin ; \nto see it, to feel convinced how vile and hideous and \nsorrowful it is, and so to feel sorrow for it. So long as we \nthink we are well enough, not worse than others, not doing \nharm to any one, we shall never repent. A man with \n\n\n\nCONVICTION OF SIN. 209 \n\nheart-disease, who does not believe in his illness, takes \nno care of himself, but goes about saying, " See how \nstrong I am," till one day he falls down dead. So with \nthe sinner who has not become convinced of his sin. \nWell, if repentance is so important a thing, when ought \nwe to begin to repent? Dare we talk about to-morrow, \nor a more convenient season? There is only one word \nfor you and me : that word is Now. The Devil\'s favorite \nplan for ruining souls is to lead us to put off our repent- \nance. He does not care about our being unbelievers ; \nhe tells us that the Bible is true, that there is a God, that \nthe promises of pardon and of punishment, the assurance \nof heaven or hell, are all true, but there is no hurry. He \nlets us believe that repentance is quite necessary, but that \nthere is no hurry about it. Be on your guard against this \ntemptation. \n\nYou must have heard of sudden deaths, and of souls \ncut off without a moment\'s preparation, too often to be- \nlieve the enemy when he tells you that there is no hurry. \nYou, my young brethren, do not let the pleasures and \namusements of life make you forget more serious matters. \nI heard lately of a young girl whose whole heart was given \nup to the pleasures of society. Returning one night from \na dance, she said to her mother, " My next dress shall be \na white one." She spoke truth : within three weeks she \ndied of fever, and her next dress was the white shroud \nof the old, old fashion, death. Let us try to take the first \nstep in repentance, by seeing that we have something to \nrepent of. The way to find out our sins is to examine \nourselves. Now, of all duties, self-examination is one of \n\n\n\n2IO CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe most neglected. We all like to look at the good \nthings we have done. We are never tired of reading flat- \ntering letters and testimonials to our merit, but we do not \nlike to look our sins in the face. We do not like to let \nthe light in upon the secret corners and neglected places \nof our inner life. We keep them closely shut up, like a \nfoul, unwholesome room ; and, like the room, the longer \nthey are kept from the light and air, the worse they be- \ncome. Self-examination is an unpleasant duty at first, \nwithout doubt. Conscience is an honest friend who does \nnot flatter, and our favorite vices and faults receive names \nwhich we like ill to hear. \n\nThe searching into the dark corners of our hearts is \nalways distasteful. A writer says truly, " No one ever tried \nto sweep away the devil\'s dust without getting choked \nwith some of it." But self-examination becomes less \ntroublesome as we persevere with it. I have heard of a \nman who began to examine himself in this way. He took \ntwo sheets of writing-paper, one gilt-edged, and the other \nblack-edged. He began to write down on the gilt-edged \npaper all the good acts which he could remember to have \ndone, whilst the black-edged sheet was reserved for sins. \nHe began with the good things first, \xe2\x80\x94 we always do so, \xe2\x80\x94 \nbut he found that the paper was not so quickly filled as he \nexpected. Then he turned to the other paper, and found \nthat the list of wrong things done and said and thought \ngrew very rapidly. When he looked at the list of good \nthings again, he discovered that many of them had been \ndone from a wrong motive, and ought to be transferred \nto the black- edged paper. Many things, too, which had \n\n\n\nCONVICTION OF SIN, 2 1 1 \n\nseemed very good at first, on second thoughts appeared \ndoubtful ; and at last the black-edged paper was as full as \nit could be, whilst plenty of room remained on the other. \nSome such plan as this would be very useful to a beginner \nin self-examination. \n\nWhat we want to do is to get hold of our sin or sins, \nand to look them in the face. They tell us that after his \ngreat fall, David wrote his sins upon the palms of his \nhands, that he might ever behold them, as he says, " my \nsin is ever before me." It is only when we see our faults \nthus, that we shall turn to the love and mercy of Jesus \nfor pardon. A very old Jewish legend relates, that when \nAbsalom perished, David saw hell opened, and his son \ntormented in the lowest place. There are said to be seven \ndivisions in the place of torment ; and, when David, in \nhis agony of sorrow, cried, "O Absalom, my son, my \nson ! " he uttered his name or title seven times, and at \neach cry of love, Absalom was delivered from one of the \nmansions of the lost. Dear brethren, let us believe that \nthough we may have fallen into the nethermost hell of \nsin, yet, on our true repentance, the great love of Jesus \nwill draw us forth once more into the land of righteous-, \nness. \n\nWhen we begin to examine ourselves, we need a guide, \na standard by which we may measure our acts. We have \nsuch a standard in God\'s law, as written in the Ten Com- \nmandments. Now, I know that many people have a \nwrong notion about those commandments. They either \nregard them as being written for the Jews long ago, and \nas being out of date now ; or else they take them liter- \n\n\n\n212 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nally, and think that if they have kept the letter of the law, \nall is well. Brethren, it is the spirit, not the letter, of the \nlaw, which we have to do with. These laws of God are \nfor all time, and for all people ; and we shall find, when \nwe try ourselves by their standard, that we have sinned \nwhen we least thought it. \n\nTry yourselves with these solemn questions, remember- \ning that God\'s laws are for you, and to-day ; and may God \nhelp you to see your sin, and to repent of it, for Jesus \nChrist\'s sake ! \n\n\n\nXXXVI. \n\nGTftfrtgsfirat Bag of 2Lent. \nMARRIAGE AT CANA. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \n\nThis beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested \nforth his glory ; and his disciples believed on him. \xe2\x80\x94 John ii. n. \n\nThe second chapter of St. John\'s Gospel begins by \ntelling us of the first miracle which Jesus wrought. \n\nNow, it is worth while noting, in order that we may get \nfrom the narrative the lesson it is intended to convey in \nall its completeness, that a Hebrew wedding was celebrated \nin a very festive and joyous manner. A feast is given in \nthe bridegroom\'s house. Neighbors and friends are in- \nvited. They come clad in appropriate garments. They \n\n\n\nMARRIAGE AT CANA. 213 \n\nfeast merrily. As soon as the sun has gone down, the \nbridegroom and his friends set out in joyful procession, \naccompanied by singers and torch-bearers, to escort the \nbride to her new home. She returns with them, wearing \na long veil of pure white, and crowned with flowers. The \nfestivities are prolonged for as many as seven days, \xe2\x80\x94 \nsometimes even for a longer time ; and the feasting is \naccompanied by the singing of songs and by pleasant \ngames. \n\nFestivity such as this, Jesus and his disciples come to \nshare in. Let us remember that the friends of Jesus and \nMary, at whose house these marriage festivities are taking \nplace, are most likely poor. It is quite natural, when the \npoor gather together for the purpose of merry-making, \nthat one and all should contribute food or wine to the \nfeast. Such is perhaps the case at the marriage feast we \nare now considering. We read that after a while, when \nthe wine runs short, the mother of Jesus says to him, \n"They have no wine." She doubtless takes a friendly \ninterest in all the arrangements made for securing the \nsuccess of the festivities ; her quick eye has seen that the \nwine will soon cease to flow ; and her kindly feeling to- . \nwards her friends prompts her to try to secure that the \nfeast shall not begin to flag for lack of wine. She knows \nthat as yet her Son has not brought any contribution to \nthe festivities ; so she comes to him, and quietly tells \nhim that there is no wine, as if to suggest that it will \nbe a graceful act on his part to provide some for her \nfriends. Jesus says unto her, " Woman, what have I to \ndo with thee? mine hour is not yet come." The Eng- \n\n\n\n214 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nlish translation gives a harshness to the words which, in \nthe original, they have not. If we were to read, " Dear \nlady, what have I to do with thee?" or " Dear lady, this \ncare is altogether mine/\' we should get nearer to the \nsense of the original. \n\nMary does not reply. She is the handmaid of the \nLord. It is for her to wait and see. So she stores up \nin her heart the words her Divine Son now addresses \nto her. That she is not displeased, her own words to \nthe servants show: "Whatsoever he saith unto you, do \nit." She possibly feels an inward assurance that in his \nown way he is going to help on the festivity in which \nhe is sharing ; and so she bids the servants be ready \nto do his will. \n\nNow, there are standing near the door of the dwelling \nsix stone vessels, with water in them so that the guests \nmay lave their hands before sitting down to eat. These \nJesus bids the servants fill with fresh water. And they \nfill them up to the brim. He saith unto them, " Draw \nout now, and bear unto the governor of the feast." He, \ntasting it, finds that it is wine. \n\nAt this beginning of miracles, my text tells us, Jesus \nmanifested forth his glory. And his disciples, beholding \nhis glory, \xe2\x80\x94 the glory as of the only-begotten of the \nFather, \xe2\x80\x94 believed on him. This was the beginning \nof the manifestation of his Divine glory by miraculous \nmeans; but it was not the beginning of the glory itself. \nThat had been ever with him. In that quiet home in the \nflowery vale of Nazareth, where he grew up by the Vir- \ngin\'s side, increasing in wisdom and in favor with God \n\n\n\nMARRIAGE AT CANA. 215 \n\nand man, the Divine glory abode with him just as much \nas during the three short years devoted to his divine mis- \nsion. As the son of the carpenter, working at the lowly \ntrade himself, he dwelt among his kinsfolk; and in him \nthey saw naught but grace and truth. The Divine glory \nwas with him alike when he manifested it forth by work- \ning a mighty miracle, and when he simply went about \ndoing good. It did not suddenly light upon him from \nheaven, to speedily return whence it had come, but was \nwith him unceasingly. The power also of showing forth \nhis glory had been his since his birth ; that was not a \nnew addition to his heavenly endowments. But hitherto \nit had not revealed itself to human gaze in any startling \nguise, such as we read of in the story of this wedding \nfeast. And yet there had been something divine under- \nlying our Lord\'s early life of loving obedience ; and it is \nfor us who acknowledge Jesus as both God and man, to \nrecognize his divinity even when veiled the most by his \nhumanity. The Divine glory, which so far had only been \nrecognized as the perfection of human grace, suddenly \nburst forth in a wonderful way, \xe2\x80\x94 suddenly became visible \nin a miracle. The miracle was performed, not that men. \nmight be lost in w r onder at the deed itself, but that \nthereby the glory of Jesus might be manifested to them, \n\xe2\x80\x94 the glory which lay infolded within his daily life of \ngoodness and love. \n\nAnd thus, my friends, may we rise to one of the grand \nlessons which this wonderful Gospel story teaches us, \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat a miracle is not performed that we may behold the \nDivine power only in the miracle, but to manifest to us \n\n\n\n2l6 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe everlasting glory of the Lord ; the ever-present love \nand power which at all times are working, though ever so \nslowly and silently, for the good of mankind. That we \nmay know and confess that our eyesight is a gift from the \nLord, we are led at one time to contemplate the Divine \nSon of God opening the eyes of one who was born blind. \nThat we may give glory to God for the powers of mind \nwith which he has endowed us, and recognize his guiding \nhand in the slow restoration to reason of those whom \nmadness has assailed, we see Jesus at other times heal- \ning those possessed with evil spirits. That we may ever \ngive thanks to Him from whom we receive our daily \nbread, we are led to the hill-side, to see Christ the Lord \ndispense the loaves miraculously multiplied to the hungry \nmultitude. That we may acknowledge that it is God\'s \nblessing upon our daily toil which enables it to yield us \nwhat we require for our worldly well-being, we are taken \nto the side of the lake of Gennesaret, to see the fisher- \nmen, who had toiled all night and taken nothing, let \ndown their nets again at our Lord\'s bidding, and at once \nenclose a great multitude of fishes. That we may ever \nbe mindful that the Lord is constantly at work turning \nwater into wine on every vine-clad slope, as he ripens \nthe sap into the rich juice of the grape, we are bidden \nto come to the humble wedding-feast, where, at the word \nof Jesus, water-pots filled with water yield a supply of \nrichest wine. \n\nLet us not forget, my friends, the great lesson which \nChrist\'s miracles teach us. Let the thought that God is \never about our path, ordering our ways and working for \n\n\n\nMARRIAGE AT CANA. 217 \n\nour good, ever be present in our minds, so that we may \nnot miss the divineness and the glory which daily surround \nus. And as we read of the glory of Christ manifesting \nitself in miracles, let us ever be mindful that He whom we \nsee so clearly at work on occasions when a law higher \nthan ordinary natural laws comes into play, is all along \nworking for us, though no miracle is seen. If we take \nthis important lesson to heart, the miracle will to us, as \nit did to the disciples, manifest forth the glory of Christ. \nWe shall see his divineness not simply at the moment \nwhen a miracle is performed, but in all the acts of his \nlife, \xe2\x80\x94 in his saying, " Son, thy sins be forgiven thee," as \nwhen he says, " Rise up and walk;" in his life of self- \nsacrifice ; in his forgiveness of his enemies, who knew not \nwhat they did ; and most assuredly, in his love for man- \nkind, for whom he died on the shameful cross. \n\nBut there is another lesson which the Gospel story we \nhave been dwelling upon teaches us. The presence of \nour Lord at a wedding adorned and beautified and sanc- \ntified the marriage union. He pronounced it to be a \nholy estate. He raised it from the degradation to which \nhuman vileness had dragged it down, and in which hu- \nman austerity had condemned it to abide. Henceforth, \nthe feelings of the human heart, which the severely re- \nligious among the Jews had been in the habit of regarding \nas carnal and debased, were to be held as sacred. The \nrelationship of husband and wife, and all things involved \nin that relationship, received at the marriage feast at \nCana an exaltation the influence of which we feel in our \nfamily life now. Human affection and love, the yearning \n\n\n\n218 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nof a human heart for the abiding sympathy of another \nheart, Jesus declared to be holy. He taught \xe2\x80\x94 as you \nall know \xe2\x80\x94 that in wedded life we are to see a type of \nthe heavenly life which awaits the soul, "the marriage \nof the soul to her eternal Lord," "the mystical union \nthat is betwixt Christ and his Church." Jesus thus raised \nmarriage from the lowly estate into which it had fallen, to \nbe, in this typical way, of sacramental import. \n\nAgain, let us remember that Jesus and his disciples \nwere present, not simply at a marriage, but at a marriage \nfeast, \xe2\x80\x94 at a feast prolonged through several days, where \nwine flowed freely, and voices were uplifted in joyful \nsongs, and the merry-making was hearty and boisterous. \nSo, then, as it was the glory of Christ to declare the \nsacredness of the marriage union, it was also his glory to \nassert the sacredness of human enjoyments. Think well \nupon this, my friends. It may seem strange at first. It \ndid so to the strict Jews in our Lord\'s time. They could \nnot understand a religious teacher who kept not aloof \nfrom scenes of worldly pleasure-making. They said \nJesus came eating and drinking, that he was a gluttonous \nman and a wine-bibber, a friend to publicans and sin- \nners. Both they and the common people could better \nunderstand John the Baptist\'s claims as a teacher of \nrepentance and righteousness. He lived an ascetic life. \nHe cared not for wine, choice food he despised ; he re- \nfrained from marriage ; he turned all his human feelings \ninto the channel of penitence and mortification; he \nsacrificed the whole of life for the culture of the inward \nsoul. The Jews could look upon such a life as that with \n\n\n\nMARRIAGE AT CAN A. 219 \n\nadmiration. But Jesus was a complete puzzle to them. \nAnd no wonder. For he came to teach men to live, not \na life of austerity out of the world, but a life of godliness \nin the world. He came to teach men to lead a new life \n\xe2\x80\x94 a life supernatural and heavenly, it is true, but not un- \nnatural and unearthly \xe2\x80\x94 a life in which the supernatural \nand the heavenly caught up, as it were, the natural and \nthe earthly, and consecrated them. He thus taught us \nto consider that Christian perfection is best arrived at, \nnot by purposely inwrapping ourselves in sternness and \ngloom, but by accepting with thankfulness life\'s gentle \npleasures, as we accept with resignation all its chastening \nsorrows. \n\nThe last lesson the marriage-feast and the miracle \nthereat teach us is one I will touch upon but briefly. \nChrist entered the lowly dwelling in Cana, and turned \nwater into wine. There is another lowly dwelling into \nwhich Christ is ever desirous to enter, \xe2\x80\x94 the human soul. \n" Behold," he says, "I stand at the door, and knock; if \nany man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come \nin to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Yes, \nmy friends, Christ will come to us, \xe2\x80\x94 will pass over the \nhumble threshold of our hearts, will abide with us, and \nenrich us with blessedness and joy. He will bestow upon \nus a consecration we are in need of. He will turn our \npoor earthly joys, that fade away as the flower of the \nfield, into heavenly joys that bloom forever. He will \nturn what is common into what is noble, what is impure \ninto what is pure, what is unholy into what is holy. He \nwill bless our cup of earthly gladness so that it shall run \n\n\n\n2 20 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nover with heavenly joy. He will turn the water of our \nearthly life into heavenly wine. \n\n\n\nXXXVII. \n\n2Tf)trt2^ec0riti JBag of 3Lent. \nPENITENTIAL CONFESSION \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\nI will confess my transgressions unto the Lord ; and thou forgavest the \niniquity of my sin. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. xxxii. 5. \n\nI have read of a simple countryman who bought a \ntelescope, never having seen one before. In using it he \nput the wrong end to his eye. Presently his wife with \nher unassisted sight saw a wild bull coming, and warned \nher husband to escape. But the countryman, looking \nthrough his telescope, declared that the bull was five \nmiles off, and that there was plenty of time ; and the \nnext moment he was tossed in the air. Ah ! brethren, \nhow many of us are looking at the future through the \nwrong end of the telescope ! Now I want you to go on \nin the way of repentance, by confessing your sins to God. \nIt is not enough to confess that you are sinners ; it is not \nenough to call yourselves miserable sinners, and to say \nwith a sigh that you are not what you should be. Why \nare we not? Because we are contented to remain as we \nare. There are people who tell us they are great sinners, \n\n\n\nPENITENTIAL CONFESSION \n\n\n\nas though it were a natural and right thing that they \nshould be. These persons who parade their sinfulness \ngenerally before others are the least likely to look their \nsins in the face, and to confess them to God. What you \nhave to do is to take your sins by name to God, one by \none. You must know them first individually, and then \nyou must confess them individually. There are three \nforms of confession which you may use, \xe2\x80\x94 a general and \npublic confession in church, a private confession which \nyou make to God when you kneel to pray at home, and \na private confession under special circumstances to God\'s \npriest. \n\nI speak first of the General Confession, which you find \nin your Prayer-books in the Morning and Evening Ser- \nvice. Now, you have said this confession hundreds of \ntimes. How often have you felt it, meant it, realized it ? \nThink what a sin it is to kneel down, to call on God in \nheaven to hear your confession, and then to utter the \nwords without thinking about them, or feeling them ! \nAnd yet you know that you have done this often. I have \nheard of two women in church who had been talking and \nthinking of their dress, and when the confession began \nthey looked at their prayer-books, and found them up- \nside down. Dear friends, when we pretend to confess \nour sins to God in church, are not many of our prayer- \nbooks, yes, and our prayers too, -upside down? When \nyou said the words of the General Confession just now, \nof what were you thinking ? You said, " We have erred \nand strayed from thy ways like lost sheep." Did you \nthink when and how you had strayed out of God\'s way, \n\n\n\n222 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe way of holiness? "We have followed too much the \ndevices and desires of our own hearts." Did you try to \nrecall the special desire which was wrong, yet which you \nfollowed? Did you try to remember against what holy \nlaw you had offended, what things you had done amiss, \nwhat duties you had left undone ? Or were you thinking \nof your neighbor\'s dress, or to-morrow\'s work or to- \nmorrow\'s pleasure? Be honest with yourselves. Perhaps \nyou were thinking how exactly the confession suited your \nneighbor. That man who owes you money, he has wan- \ndered like a lost sheep ! that acquaintance who slighted \nyou, she has done what she ought not to have done ! \nAh ! brethren, but what say you of yourselves? You are \nconfessing your own sins, remember. Whilst you are \nthinking of some one else\'s bad temper, or meanness, or \ndeceit, you are forgetting to look into your own heart, \nforgetting to recall the last time when you were angry or \nmean or deceitful. There is for us all the great danger \nthat we should get into a habit of saying the confession \nwithout thinking at all, or with our thoughts on the faults \nof others, instead of on our own. Try to mend this, \nbrethren. Get your sin or sins before you, then think \nof them, think what they must be like in God\'s eyes, in \nthe eyes of him who died for you : once feel their true \ncharacter, and you will confess them with your whole \nheart. I remember once, when preaching at a mission, I \nnoticed a young man in the congregation who was listen- \ning with a careless, laughing face. Presently I spoke to \nthe people about confession, as I am speaking to you ; \nand then I knelt down among them, and asked those who \n\n\n\nPENITENTIAL CONFESSION. 223 \n\nreally felt what I said, to repeat the confession after me. \nI heard some one close behind me sobbing ; and when I \nrose from my knees, I saw that the young man who had \nlaughed at the sermon cried when he confessed his sins \nto God. Try. then, for the future to make your public \nconfession of sins in church a reality, not a mockery, \nnot a sham. But this public confession is not enough. \nEvery night when you kneel to say your private prayers, \ntry to recall the sins, the mistakes, the failures, of the past \nday, and take them to God. Tell him of the sins of act, \nand of thought, and of word ; and then, when you have \nconfessed your sin with an earnest resolve to try to do \nbetter, you will lie down with the blessed assurance that \nyou are forgiven. \n\nThere is yet a third form of confession, \xe2\x80\x94 that which is \xc2\xab \nmade to God\'s priest. In the exhortation in the Com- \nmunion Service, people who are in trouble about their \nspiritual state are bidden to come to God\'s priest, " and \nopen their grief, that by the ministry of God\'s Holy Word \nthey may receive the benefit of absolution, together with \nghostly counsel and advice, to the quieting of their con- \nscience, and avoiding all scruple and doubtfulness." \nNow, without doubt, there are times when this kind of \nconfession is absolutely necessary. People often say, " I \ncan confess my sins to God : " but the question is, Do \nyou confess your sins to God? What think you of the \nway in which some of you have pretended to confess to \nGod for years part? There are, believe me, times when \nthe help of a friend and adviser, one a sinner like our- \nselves, one tempted like as you are, yet one whose life is \n\n\n\n224 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndedicated to the ministry of holy things, is requisite. I \nwould not have you practise habitual confession to a \npriest. I do not believe in a religious life which is lived \nmerely from one confession to another. Such a life be- \ncomes weak, nerveless, unhealthy. It is like a life sup- \nported by medicine, instead of by wholesome food. But, \nas medicine is necessary sometimes, so is this kind of \nconfession. Do not shrink back from this means of grace \nfrom a sense of shame ; if you are not ashamed to com- \nmit a sin, you ought not to be ashamed to confess it. \nMay God lead you to this second step in the way of \nrepentance, and make you brave ! \n\n\n\nXXXVIII. \n\n&f)frtg*ti)irt Bag ot 3Lent. \nDIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. \n\nREV. H. N. GRIMLEY, A.M. \n\nI pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my \nfather\'s house : for I have five brethren ; that he may testify unto them, \nlest they also come into this place of torment. \xe2\x80\x94 St. Luke xvi. 27, 28. \n\nOur Lord, in narrating the story of the rich man and \nLazarus, \xe2\x80\x94 that strange story with its first scene laid in \nthis world, its second scene in the world invisible to us, \n\xe2\x80\x94 would use such expressions with regard to the myste- \nrious world beyond this as would best convey his mean- \ning to those to whom he was speaking. Such a term \n\n\n\nDIVES AND HIS BRETHREN, 225 \n\nas "Abraham\'s bosom" has never been adopted into the \nphraseology of the Christian Church ; but the idea in- \ntended to be conveyed by that term \xe2\x80\x94 doubtless a familiar \none to the Jews who looked forward hopefully to a life \nbeyond the grave \xe2\x80\x94 has all along been cherished by \nChristians. The thought of re-union with the departed \nhas acquired in Christendom a vitality which has never \nbeen granted to it in any other of the religions of the \nworld. A Christian looks forward with hope to a life of \nunion in the future world with all he has ever known and \nloved in this. He looks forward, too, to a union not \nsimply with those from amongst the circle of his own \nfriends who have joined the glorious band of the re- \ndeemed, but with those also whom having not seen he \nhas nevertheless loved with a deep abiding love, \xe2\x80\x94 with \nfellow-Christians of his own time, the echo of whose words \nhas reached his ears, the story of whose deeds of charity \nbas brought a thrill of joy to him ; and with Christians \nof all times, whose memory is dear to him ; with the saints \nwho have walked this earth, and whose presence is ever \nhaunting his thoughts, whose lives have been such a reve- \nlation of divine gentleness and love that to think of them \nis a tearful delight. All the hopes of this sort which enter \ninto the daily thought of a Christian are summed up, \nalong with other cherished hopes, in the one phrase, " I \nbelieve in the communion of saints." Around this there \nis a rich cluster of longings and fervent desires. The \nJews of old \xe2\x80\x94 such of them, at all events, as clung closely \nto the thought of immortality \xe2\x80\x94 had the like assurance of \nthe union of the faithful departed in one loving celestial \n\n\n\n226 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nbrotherhood ; and it seemed to them that no phrase had \nso concentred in it all their thoughts of loving union with \nthose who had gone before, as the phrase "Abraham\'s \nbosom." We ourselves embody the idea of close union \non earth in the words "bosom friend." The union of our \nLord with the Father is in St. John\'s Gospel spoken of \nin like manner : " the only-begotten Son, which is in the \nbosom of the Father." The phrase must be taken as \nexpressive of the most intimate union which could be \nthought of by the Jews as existing between those who \nhad become united forever with the Lord. Lazarus had \nentered into that union with those who had gone before \nhim, with all the faithful departed, and with him who was \nknown to the generations which followed him as the \nfather of the faithful and as the friend of God. The rich \nman had not entered into that union. His thoughts on \nearth had always been running in one groove, \xe2\x80\x94 the groove \nof self. The texture of his inward spirit had been woven \nwith the threads of pride and thoughtlessness and self- \nishness. He had lived simply in order to be clothed in \npurple and fine linen, and to fare sumptuously every day. \nHe had not lived for the sake of any one beyond his \nhouse. Why should he trouble himself about a wretched \nbeggar lying at his gate ? He saw no reason why. So \nthat when he left this world, there had been wrought into \nhis inner being no feelings of sympathy with those whose \nlives had been animated with a divine unselfishness and \nwith tenderest human love. And when he reached that \nbourn whence no traveller returns, he was startled by find- \ning himself conscious that there was a great gulf fixed \n\n\n\nDIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. 227 \n\nbetween himself and the spirits and souls of the righteous \nmen of old ; that he was sundered from them by an abyss \nthat could not be passed ; that the abode for which he \nhad prepared himself, and in which he could not do other \nthan abide, was far away from the abodes of those whom \nhe was now compelled to recognize as gathered together \nin a union of exaltation and blessedness. He was more \nespecially startled by finding that the very beggar who \nhad lain at his gate smitten with a lingering disease, and \nof whose very existence he had done his best to be un- \nconscious, was now the sharer of a higher bliss than he \nhimself was fitted for. There had on earth been a great \ngulf \xe2\x80\x94 a great social chasm \xe2\x80\x94 between himself and Laza- \nrus, but that was a chasm which might have been bridged \nover. It might have been bridged over with sympathy, \nwith charity. He was then rich : Lazarus was poor. He \nwas surrounded by every earthly comfort : Lazarus was \nin the lowest depth of suffering. If from his abundance \nhe had ministered to the wants of the poor helpless one ; \nif he had shared some of the good things which were his \nwith Lazarus, whose lot was amongst the evil things of \nlife; if he had thought for Lazarus, and not simply for \nhimself; if his thought had manifested itself in loving \ndeeds, \xe2\x80\x94 the gulf on earth might have been crossed. But \nit was not crossed ; and now it was perpetuated in a great \nand awful gulf, which severed him from the companion- \nship of just and noble souls ; which left him fixed and \nrooted and bound in fetters to that self to which his whole \nlife on earth had been devoted to minister. \n\nMy friends, there is ever a great gulf fixed between \n\n\n\n228 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nselfishness and love ; between that state in which the \nsoul dwells in loveless isolation, and that in which she is \nenriched with the divine life of charity. If we are not \nbrought into union with one another here, we shall find \nourselves severed yonder. If we who live on the sunny \nside of life here give no heed to the voice of distress \nwhich is ever raised by those who live in the cold shade \nof adversity ; if w r e check all upspringing sympathy ; if \nwe put to silence the whisperings of the still small voice \nwithin us bidding us act as ministers of consolation to \nsuffering humanity, \xe2\x80\x94 we are but helping to widen the gulf \nbetween ourselves and those who have entered into a \ndiviner life. Whatever companionship we are preparing \nourselves for in that invisible world whither we all are \ngoing, there will be none so dreary, so awful, as compan- \nionship with self. Whatever tortures we are here prepar- \ning for ourselves, there will be none so exquisite as those \nwhich will spring up from regrets over a life wasted here, \nand over deeds of goodness left undone. If the life which \nhas no other aim than the welfare of self, the comfort of \nself, the pleasure of self, be commenced here, it will be \nperpetuated in the world to which we are all hastening. \nThe severance which we are initiating here between our- \nselves and the higher life of humanity will be continued \nthere. The thoughts and desires which here vibrate not \nin unison with the aspirations of redeemed humanity will \nthere be a torment to us. With such thoughts clinging \nto us and refusing to depart from us, it will be impossible \nfor us to hold communion with the blessed ones who on \nearth rose above the life of selfishness, and who in heaven \n\n\n\nDIVES AND HIS BRETHREN. 229 \n\nare ascending into more perfect union with the Lord and \nwith his chosen ones. \n\nBut though this Gospel narrative reveals to us the lot of \nhim whom we know by no other designation than the rich \nman, \xe2\x80\x94 reveals Jiis lot to us as one of torment, \xe2\x80\x94 reveals \nhis state in the invisible world as one of torturing self- \naccusation, \xe2\x80\x94 there is disclosed to us a gleam of comfort \nwhich bids us think of him as one who in Hades, in the \nhidden place, in the abode of the spirits cf men, is not \nlost to all tender and compassionate feeling. At the close \nof his piteous appeal to Abraham, his thoughts go back to \nhis father\'s house on earth, and to his five brethren there. \n" I pray thee that thou wouldest send Lazarus to my \nfather\'s house : for I have five brethren ; that he may tes- \ntify unto them, lest they also come into this place of tor- \nment." He had five brethren on earth, dwelling in the \nenjoyment of riches as he himself had been, living the \nsame selfish life that he had lived, caring not what voice \nof distress might be uplifted at their gate, thinking only \nof their own luxurious ease. And there entered into his \nmind the desire that they should live differently, that they \nshould depart from the selfish ways in- which he had \nwalked so steadfastly ; that they should not persevere in \nthat forgetfulness of others which had brought him into \na state of dreadful isolation from all ennobling compan- \nionship, into a state of awful union with self-torturing \nthoughts. He would have them enter upon the path of \nduty and usefulness which he himself had spurned. He \nwould have them begin on earth that life of sympathy \nand charity from which he was now an outcast ; he would \n\n\n\n230 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhave them enter upon it while still on earth, in order that \nthey might afterwards progress along it in heaven. He \nmight have desired otherwise. He might have wished \nthat they should continue in the life of selfishness, so that \nthey might be sharers with him in the rewards of selfish- \nness. He might have found some sort of wild delight in \ndwelling upon the thought that the five who had been \nbrethren with him in thoughtless luxury, in selfish resolves \nto live in forgetfulness of others, would by and by be \nbrethren with him in the place of torment in which he \nthen abode. But he did not : he thought otherwise. And \nthough his thoughts with regard to them were doubtless \ntorturing thoughts, though the desire that they might \nescape the doom of isolation from the great life of pro- \ngressive union with God might be one which would give \nadditional anguish to his soul ; still, that he should be \npossessed by the sad desire, was better for him than that \nhe should wildly wish for their companionship with him \nin ruin. \n\nIn these words of his in which he entreats that a mes- \nsenger may be sent to his five brethren, we may see that \nhe had not sunk to the lowest depth of evil possible for \na human soul. But the lesson we have to learn for our- \nselves is one which enjoins us to enter into the divine life \nof goodness and charity while still on this earth. For, if \nwe do not, we shall find, when we pass to the world be- \nyond this, that a great gulf exists between ourseives and \nthose who are united with one another and with the Lord \nin holy love ; we shall find ourselves in companionship \nwith torturing thoughts, in companionship with wrathful- \n\n\n\nCHRIST\'S NEW COMMANDMENT. 231 \n\nness, outside the circle of redeemed humanity. my \nfriends ! let our great aim in this life be to enter into union \nwith the Lord, to live out his divine life of charity and \nsympathy ; to speak ever the words of love, and to do \never the deeds of love ; and to trust ever in the Lord\'s \nguidance ; to believe that union with him now, means \nunion with him and with all his blessedness throughout \nall eternity : in which union, may you and I enter and \never abide ! \n\n\n\nXXXIX. \n\n3T{)frtrj=fourtf) Bng of 3Ltnt. \nCHRIST S NEW COMMANDMENT. \n\nREV. J. W. PARKER, A.M. \n\nA new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another ; as I \nhave loved you, that ye also love one another. \xe2\x80\x94 John xiii. 34. \n\nThe traitor Judas Iscariot had just left the upper room \nwhere our Lord and his apostles were assembled the \nnight before the crucifixion. That departure of Judas \nfrom our Lord and his faithful ones was in some way a \ncritical time in the order of those circumstances which \npreceded our Lord\'s betrayal and death. It has been \nthought that our Lord\'s words point to some great vic- \ntory over sin and the Devil, more than could be well \nunderstood by the rest of the disciples, more than we also \n\n\n\n232 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ncan understand. But we can understand how very hate- \nful must have been the presence of Judas at that holy \nassembly, how the all-holy, sinless Jesus must have shrunk \nfrom personal fellowship and communion with one whose \nfearful wickedness he knew. Judas Iscariot must have \nbeen there as the author of evil himself, and his rejection \nfrom the holy table in some sort like the rejection of the \nDevil at our Lord\'s temptation. Thus the discovery of \nJudas, though not known at the time by the rest of the \ndisciples, was a new triumph over evil ; and the departure \nof Judas, an acknowledgment of defeat. We may, per- \nhaps, thus gain some insight into the meaning * of our \nLord\'s words on the occasion of Judas\'s departure : \n" Now is the Son of man glorified, and God is glorified \nin him. If God be glorified in him, God shall also glorify \nhim in himself, and shall straightway glorify him." \n\nOur Lord\'s betrayal unto death was indeed but the \nsetting forth his glory as the Saviour of men. His death \nwas but the introduction to a larger measure of glory. \nAs the Son of man, he would, when lifted up on the cross, \ndraw all men unto him. As the Son of man, exalted to \nGod\'s right hand, all power and dominion would be given \nto him. So were the final results of the betrayal in the \nfirst place foreshadowed upon the Redeemer\'s mind, and \nhe spake of that accumulation of glory as already im- \nparted to him. But at that momentous hour it was not \nlong that he left his disciples, even for such divine con- \ntemplations. He goes on, " Little children, yet a little \nwhile I am with you. Ye shall seek me, and as I said \nunto the Jews, Whither I go ye cannot come, so now I \n\n\n\nCHRIST\'S NEW COMMANDMENT. 233 \n\nsay unto you." Then follow the words of the text : " A \nnew commandment I give unto you, That ye love one \nanother ; as I have loved you, that ye also love one an- \nother." It may be fitting now that we should with all \nreverence inquire in what sense the commandment was \n" new " which the Lord then gave. In every sense of \nthe word, indeed, it was not a new commandment, that \nmen should love each other. " Thou shalt love thy \nneighbor as thyself," was the second great commandment \nof the law, and that which was the matter of a command- \nment in the law was so plainly founded on true principles \nof human nature, that heathens could not fail to recognize \nit as right that they at least, who were of the same nation, \nkindred, or family, should live in friendship and love. \nWhat, then, is the meaning of this new commandment \nfrom the Redeemer\'s lips at this most solemn hour? Are \nhis words suggested by the fearful crime of Judas ? that \nas he fell by yielding to a base temptation, casting away \nthereby all love for his Master, and giving him to death \nfor the gratification of his covetousness, so the rest of the \ndisciples might learn by his fate the need of being more \nfully established in mutual love? Or, rather, is it not \nthat he would make the commandment of mutual love \nnew by unfolding a higher motive for such love, and still \nmore by setting forth in his passion and death a more \ndivine and perfect example ? \n\nHenceforth, then, it would be a duty on the part of all \nthe disciples of Jesus, to cultivate a love according to the \ntype of this the new commandment. It would be a mat- \nter of thought and care, to distinguish such a love from \n\n\n\n234 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nall other affections which might bear some resemblance \nto it. It would not, indeed, be a feeling antagonistic to \nother affections, by which men are drawn together, and \nare kept in love and unity together; it would simply be \nabove and in addition to them. Thus it would be no \nnew commandment to urge husbands and wives, parents \nand children, brothers and sisters, to love each other ; be- \ncause they stand in so close a relationship to each other, \nthat, apart from the estrangement caused by selfishness, \nit is natural that they should so love each other. Neither \nis it any new commandment, that those who are natives \nof the same country, and are connected together by com- \nmon-national interests, should have an affection for each \nother on this ground alone. That men so united should \nbe willing to do and suffer much for each other, is to be \naccounted for by reasons perfectly natural. Friendships, \nagain, and very close and binding relationships, are \ncreated by common sentiments and tastes, and men are \nled to do noble and self-sacrificing deeds for each other \nunder the impulse of such feelings ; but yet all attach- \nments which are obviously based upon such foundations \nfall short of the requirements of the new commandment. \nNone had ever loved his brother as Jesus had loved his \ndisciples. None had loved on the same principle and \nmotive. He loved his disciples \xe2\x80\x94 yea, he loved all men \n\xe2\x80\x94 because he wished to save them from sin and hell. \nAnd the new commandment to his disciples was that they \nshould love each other as he had loved them. Again, in \nall earthly and natural motives of affection, there would \nappear to be some obvious reciprocal advantage to be \n\n\n\nCHRIST\'S NEW COMMANDMENT, 235 \n\nderived. We love them that love us. But in the love \nwhich the Redeemer of men exhibited, there was no limit \nor reserve. He loved even those who hated him. He \ndied for those who murdered him. They, therefore, who \nwould obey his new commandment, will not forget that \naspect and feature of the love which he had for men. \nThey will endeavor to cultivate an equally unselfish love. \nThey will seek that entire freedom from low vindictive \npassions, which will alone suffer the growth within them \nof so unselfish a love. The Redeemer of men had his \nlove put to the test of death, and it bore that test. So \nwill they who humbly follow his footsteps pray that they \nmay be put to no severity of trial which they may not be \nable to endure. They will pray that they may sooner die \nthan do any act, or suffer any act to be done, which \nwould be irreconcilable with the presence of a love, per- \nfect in its degree, after the pattern of Christ\'s new com- \nmandment. \n\nBut there is yet another sense in which our Lord may \nbe understood as giving to his disciples a new command- \nment. He was now upon the very point of instituting \nthe sacrament of his body and blood, in the institution of \nwhich his words were in all respects a new commandment. \n"This do in remembrance of me." It would seem that \nan act of love so amazing in its performance, and in its \nresults so world- embracing, as the death of the Son of \nGod for man\'s sins, should not be left to the unassisted \nmemory of man t to be borne in mind by each generation \nof men, or by each individual. He himself was not con- \ntent to give a charge to his disciples that they should \n\n\n\n236 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthink about, or speak to each other about his death. \nThey must also " do " what he told them to " do " in \nremembrance of him, and that " act " which they would \ndo would be the truest memorial of his death. By dili- \ngently and with devoutest reverence observing his com- \nmandment, they would also learn to estimate in some \ndegree the extent of his love for them. So would they \nalso have before their minds a pattern of that love which \nthey should have for each other. Thus we discern that \nin the blessed sacrament of his body and blood, our Lord \ndesigned that his disciples should seek and find a perpet- \ntual nutriment and sustenance to the highest and holiest \naspirations of their regenerated nature. In it would they \nbe united mystically, but really, with him, their sinful \nbodies made clean by his body, and their souls washed \nwith his most precious blood. In it would they be most \neffectually united with each other, inasmuch as all would \nbe one body, as all were " partakers of that one bread." \n\nLet us seek, then, brethren, to fulfil the new command- \nment of Christ, and love one another. Let us seek to \nmake all our communions with him have an intimate prac- \ntical bearing upon our thoughts and daily actions, mould- \ning and tempering them in accordance with the mind of \nChrist. If we are earnestly striving to grow in the love \nof God and man, let us not make the mistake of choosing \nour own way of promoting that growth. If God has con- \ndescended to unfold to us the mystery of our soul\'s life, \nhow it lives, and how sustenance is administered to it, it \nwould be supreme folly to overlook his advice. But \nsurely he has so advised us. As surely as Jesus Christ \n\n\n\nREDEEMING GRACE. 237 \n\ncame into the world, and died upon the cross, so surely \nhas he taught by precept, by parable, by the last bequest \nof his love, the institution of the holy sacrament of love, \nthat he himself, by a mystical indwelling, is the spiritual \nlife of his disciples. Such being his teaching, what can \nbe our duty but obedience? We cannot compound for \nsuch obedience by strength of mind, by skill in contro- \nversy, or by any subtilty of misinterpretation applied to \nthe Redeemer\'s words. We shall grow in love, if we obey. \nWe shall keep the new commandment, if we have the \nspirit to keep it. We shall acquire and retain the spirit \nby reverenUally honoring, not despising or profanely, \ncarelessly, and irregularly using, the means which Christ \nhimself appointed and consecrated ; namely, prayer and \nthe holy sacraments. \n\n\n\nXL. \n\niStmtiag before ISaster. \nREDEEMING GRACE. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nYe know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich \nyet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be \nrich. \xe2\x80\x94 2 Cor. viii. 9. \n\nSome become poor through misfortune, some through \nimprovidence, some through criminal indulgence, some \nthrough stanch adherence to duty. Here we are reminded \n\n\n\n238 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nof One who was originally rich beyond all human con- \nception, but became poorer than the poorest that ever \ntrod the earth \xe2\x80\x94 not because he desired the change, nor \nbecause he could not help it, nor because it was his \nbounden duty, nor because a superior bade him, nor \nbecause the perishing implored him, but because he loved \nus with an infinite love \xe2\x80\x94 beyond all imagination of men \nor angels. \n\n" \'Tvvas mercy moved his heavenly mind, \nAnd pity brought him down." \n\nWhat saw he in this revolted province of his boundless \nempire, that he should come to seek and save the self- \ndestroyed? Among all the myriads of Adam\'s children, \nwhat one quality was there worthy of his love? Who \nsolicited his aid, or repented of his own sin? What ob- \nligation pressed or necessity impelled the Saviour ? Had \nhe remained indifferent to our helpless woes in the \nheavenly mansions, who could have impeached one of his \nperfections? Had he smitten this guilty planet from its \norbit, and sent it staggering among the stars \xe2\x80\x94 a repro- \nbate world \xe2\x80\x94 a warning to the universe of the ruin \nwrought by sin \xe2\x80\x94 might not the minstrelsy of heaven \nhave chanted over its catastrophe \xe2\x80\x94 " Just and true are \nthy ways, thou King of saints ! " Perfectly he foreknew \nall that awaited him in his mission of mercy ; yet with \nwhat divine alacrity did he vacate his throne, leave the \nbosom of his Father, and retire from the adoring host of \nheaven \xe2\x80\x94 as if a loftier throne, a more loving bosom, and \na worthier concourse of worshippers, were ready to greet \nhim in the world to which he came ! \n\n\n\nREDEEMING GRACE. 239 \n\n" Oh, love that passeth knowledge ! words are vain ! \nLanguage is lost in wonder so divine ! " \n\nHow much we commiserate the poor who have seen \nbetter days ! His better days what human art shall de- \npict or finite mind conceive? Lift up your thoughts to \nthe glorious state of the Eternal Son in the bosom of \nGod the Father. As yet the worlds are not ; no star \nreflects his smile, nor seraph chants his praise ; but, pos- \nsessed of every Divine excellence in the most transcend- \nent degree, he has within himself an infinite source of \nhappiness. Now he arises to the work of creation, and \nmyriads of self-luminous suns, each with his retinue of \nrejoicing planets, begin their eternal march around his \nthrone. All are his, created by him and for him ; and all \ntheir countless billions of rational and immortal beings \nown him as their supreme Lord, and adore him as the \nsole giver of every good and perfect gift. Down from \nall this glory he descended into one of the poorest \nprovinces of his illimitable realm, assuming the frail and \nsuffering nature of its fallen people, \n\n" And God with God was man with men." \n\nHaving a body and a soul like ours, he was liable to \nall our temptations and infirmities ; and suffering \xe2\x80\x94 the \njust for the unjust \xe2\x80\x94 that he might bring us to God, he \nbecame poorer than the poorest of those whom by his \npoverty he sought to redeem. Surely, had he so chosen, \nwith all the pomp and splendor of royal state .he might \nhave made his advent ; but see ! he comes as the first-born \nof an obscure family \xe2\x80\x94 a stable his birthplace \xe2\x80\x94 a manger \n\n\n\n240 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nhis cradle ; through all the years of his youth, subject to \nhis parents, and toiling at Joseph\'s side with the carpen- \nter\'s saw and plane ; and when at the age of thirty he \nenters upon his Messianic mission, having no home but \nsuch as a poor fisherman can offer him at Capernaum ; \noften hungering and thirsting over the fields and fountains \nof his own creation, everywhere hated for his love and \npersecuted for his purity ; and at last basely betrayed into \nthe hands of his enemies, abandoned and denied by his \ndisciples, falsely accused of blasphemy, and cruelly con- \ndemned to the cross ; while the powers of hell, in all \ntheir might and their malice, co-operate with the murder- \ners of the Lord\'s Anointed ; and the loving Father, laying \non him the iniquities of us all, withdraws from the scene \nof infamous horrors, and leaves the immaculate victim to \ndie alone in the darkness. \n\n" O Lamb of God ! was ever pain \xe2\x80\x94 \nWas ever love \xe2\x80\x94 like thine ? " \n\n" What are a million of human lives," said the great \nNapoleon, " to the scheme of a man like me?" Infinitely \nmore sublime was the scheme of Jesus Christ, sacrificing \nno human interest to his own ambition, but enriching all \nhis followers with the durable riches of righteousness. \nBenevolence, not ambition, was the \'grand impulse of his \naction. To save mankind from sin and Satan \xe2\x80\x94 to \nquicken dead souls with the power of an endless life \xe2\x80\x94 \nhe came -forth from the Father, sojourned in voluntary \nexile among rebels, and joyfully laid down his life for their \nredemption. How much the apostles write of" the riches \n\n\n\nREDEEMING GRACE. 241 \n\nof his grace " ! How sweetly they assure us that he \n" hath chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and \nheirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them \nthat love him " ! He became poorer than we, to make us \nas rich as himself \xe2\x80\x94 joint-heirs with him to an inheritance \nincorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, reserved for \nus in heaven. Already, indeed, the believer is rich in \nfaith, rich in love, rich in peace, rich in joy, and rich \nin hope; but when the dear Lord shall return to consum- \nmate in glory the salvation thus begun by grace, the saints \nshall enter with him the everlasting kingdom, satisfied with \nhis likeness and radiant with his joy. Rejoice then, O \nmy brother ! in the unsearchable riches of Christ. Is the \ndisinherited enriched by the restoration of his lost estate? \nJesus has bought back for us our forfeited possessions, \nand made them ours by an everlasting covenant. Is the \nalien child enriched by adoption into the royal household, \nmaking him heir to the crown ? Brought nigh by redeem- \ning blood, I become interested in all that belongs to my \nLord, and whatever he receives from the Father I am to \nshare with him in the kingdom of his glory.. His volun- \ntary poverty in my behalf makes him my Brother and \nassociates me with him upon the throne.. Taking my \nearthly station, he raises me to his heavenly honors. \nBearing my manifold infirmities, he assures me of a share \nin his infinite blessedness. Emptying himself of his glory \nfor me, he fills me with all the fulness of God \\ Thus we \nknow the grace of our Lord Jesus^ Christ \xe2\x80\x94 not, indeed, \nin all the amplitude of its extension; nor in all the pleni- \ntude of its comprehension ; but adequately to our neces- \n\n\n\n242 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nsity as sinners, and adequately to our duty and privilege \nas Christians \xe2\x80\x94 we know it, and rejoice in it with un- \nspeakable joy. What returns shall we make, or how \nexpress our gratitude ? Shall we be like him who, having \npromised Mercury part of his nuts, ate the kernels himself, \nand gave the god the shells ? Shall we not imitate the \nMacedonian churches, that first gave their own selves to \nthe Lord, and then sent their liberal collections to the \npoor saints at Jerusalem? When we have given ourselves, \nwhat else can we withhold from him who gave all his \nwealth to enrich us, and has enriched us most by giving \nus himself ? \n\n"The mite my willing hand can give, \nAt Jesus\' feet I lay ; \nHis grace the tribute will receive, \nAnd Heaven at large repay." \n\n\n\nXLI. \n\nJKontiarj before 3\xc2\xa3agter, \nSYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE. \n\nREV. H N. GRIM LEY, A.M. \n\nBehold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be scattered, \nevery man to his own, and shall leave me alone ; and yet I am not alone, \nbecause the Father is with me. \xe2\x80\x94 St. John xvi. 32. \n\nIn these words we read our Lord\'s desire for the \nsympathy of his earthly brethren, and at the same time \n\n\n\nSYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE, 243 \n\nthe expression of his assurance of the sympathy of his \nheavenly Father. The very words which speak so assur- \ningly of his possession of the higher sympathy are thus \nallied with others which give utterance to his yearning for \nthe lower sympathy. To me it seems, that, if we ponder \nwell these words, we shall find that they indicate that the \nhuman heart ought never to be free from desires for both \nthe sympathy from above and the sympathy from around, \nand that the sympathy which one heart has for another \nis divinely nurtured, and in kinship with the sympathy \nwhich the Lord has for every one of his earthly children. \nAll through our earthly life, we feel the need of the sym- \npathy of our fellows. A yearning for sympathy is one of \nour great ruling motives. As soon as our inner selves \nwake up to a higher life, so soon is there roused within \nus a new craving for sympathy. As soon as that great \nchange comes for each one of us \xe2\x80\x94 the change which has \nso many phases \xe2\x80\x94 we are filled also with longings for \nothers to share our awakening with us. Our new-found \njoy in life is one which impels us to be not content with \nthe possession of it all alone. It we are possessed by the \nthought that the good Lord has put forth his hand to \nsave our souls from selfishness and sinfulness, we should \nlose the great blessing bestowed upon us if we were to \ncherish it in secret isolation. Even when we are most \nconscious of Divine sympathy, we feel an intense yearn- \ning for the sympathy of our fellows. This need for sym- \npathy exercises upon us a compelling influence. It is \nthis which urges us to associate together in various ways. \nIt is this which has given rise to our famliy gatherings at \n\n\n\n244 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nfestive times ; it is this need which brings us together to \njoin in Christian worship. What a void there would be \nin life if we were altogether to forsake the assembling of \nourselves together ; if we were never to realize the Divine \nwords, " where two or three are gathered together, there \nam I in the midst of them ; " if we were never made \nglad by hearing the voices of friendly ones say unto us, \ni( Let us go to the house of the Lord." Though we \ncommune with the Lord in the still chambers of our own \nhearts, and find a joy in doing so ; though we strive in \nthe great cathedral of nature to enter into the commun- \nion of praise which, to the devout soul, all created things \nseem ceaselessly to pour forth unto the Lord, \xe2\x80\x94 we have \nother longings which are only satisfied when we come \ntogether to lift up our voices one with another in prayer \nand praise. Though we can read our Bibles in solitari- \nness and quietness ; though we can read the noble \nthoughts which reverent souls, divinely aided, have in- \nscribed on the pages of the books which have become our \nconstant companions, our unfailing solace, \xe2\x80\x94 we never- \ntheless desire to hear the divine message as it quivers on \nhuman lips ; we long to . hear the thoughts of another \nuttered with the varying tones of the human voice, and \nto note the very look and gesture which in some strange \nway accord with the inner meaning of the spoken words. \nOf all this need of human sympathy, our dear Lord is \nconscious. He is conscious of it, because he has felt it \nhimself. During his life on earth, the sympathy he finds \nis precious to him. His home at Nazareth, in which he \nfinds the sympathy of a human mother, is a home he \n\n\n\nSYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE, 245 \n\nthinks of tenderly. The home at Bethany, of the two \nsisters and brother whom he loves so much, and whose \nlove for him is great, is a retreat in which he finds sym- \npathy which is dear to him. He rejoices that amongst \nhis disciples there is one whom he can more especially \nlove. And when, on the night of sorrows, he is contem- \nplating the hour fast approaching, when his disciples shall \nleave him alone, he shrinks from the loneliness to which \ntheir desertion will leave him. \n\nAnd as, when himself on earth, he sets all this value \nupon human sympathy, and feels all the need for it, so \nnow is he conscious of all the yearnings of his brothers \nand sisters on earth for the loving sympathy of others. \nHe is touched with a feeling of our infirmities. He \nknows how much longing for sympathy there is in the \nworld, which is never satisfied. He knows that the great \nwant of many a heart is the sympathy of a loving friend ; \nthat the great sorrow which casts a shadow upon many a \nlife is that the weary days come and go, bringing no \nsound of a friendly human voice, no whispered consola- \ntion, no communion in high thoughts, no loving saluta- \ntion to make the heart inwardly leap for joy. He knows \nof all the aching void of sad and lonely souls, because \nhe himself was often sad and lonely, because he himself \nyearned for what we yearn for, and loved the tenderness \nof human life, \xe2\x80\x94 the greetings and the converse with \nwhich our sympathy is manifested. \n\nBut in the very moment in which he expresses his \nneed of human sympathy, he also makes known his assur- \nance of the Divine sympathy of his Father : " And yet \n\n\n\n246 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nI am not alone, because the Father is with me." And \nthis Divine sympathy is man\'s only refuge when human \nsympathy fails. The consciousness of possessing it is a \nproof that we have been brought into union with God. \nAn abiding consciousness of its possession is a proof that \nwe ever strive to remain in that union, to grow in that \nunion, to submit ourselves to the Lord\'s guidance as he \n\xe2\x80\xa2draws us into a closer union. To retain a lasting con- \nsciousness, not only of having entered into union with \n*the Lord, but also of abiding in that union, is the great \nwork of our Christian lives. It will not do to be content \nwith the thought that on such a day we entered into a \n\xe2\x80\xa2sweet consciousness that God had drawn near to us ; we \n\xe2\x80\xa2must : >be conscious of a daily growth in God\'s favor, a \ndaily growth in knowledge of the Lord, a daily inflowing \nof loving inspirations from his Divine heart. \n\nKnowing, as we do, that our Lord was perfectly human ; \nknowing ^that in him the Divine entered into complete \nunion with the human, and so foreshadowed for us the \n\xe2\x96\xa0union into which we must enter, \xe2\x80\x94 knowing this, the \nhuman experience of our Lord revealed in my text \nshows us that we, like him, shall ever feel the need of \nhuman sympathy ; but that, even when that need is \ngreatest, we may feel also assured of Divine sympathy. \nThey show us, too, when taken along with the main \nteaching of our lord\'s life, that even the assurance of \nDivine sympathy does not carry us out of the range of \n: human sympathy, -does -not exalt us into a region where \nwe fed no >need ;for the sympathy of our fellows, does \nnot destroy the yearning within .us for communion with \n\n\n\nSYMPATHY, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 247 \n\none another. Jesus our Lord, who came to reveal to us \nhow much there is of the human in the Divine, and how \nmuch there is of the Divine in regenerated humanity, \nand to commence the great union of humanity with \nDivinity, which, since his ascension to glory, his own \nDivine Spirit has been carrying on on earth, \xe2\x80\x94 he by his \nearthly life teaches us that there can be no goodness in \nthe heart of man which is not a Divine endowment ; that \nthe manifestation of charity within the soul which we call \nsympathy is altogether of a heavenly nature ; that the \nhuman sympathy for which we are ever craving, the \nDivine sympathy which we ought ever to strive to be \nassured of, are but different links of the same golden \nchain of love which unites heaven with earth, which \nbrings the human into communion with the Divine. \nEven if we have an assurance of Divine sympathy, such as \nJesus felt when he said, " And yet I am not alone, because \nthe Father is with me," our yearning for human sympathy \nwill not be quenched. But there will be awakened with- \nin us, if we have this blessed assurance of Divine sym- \npathy, \xe2\x80\x94 there will be awakened within us, by the side of \nour own longings for the sympathy of others, a desire to \nbestow sympathy where sympathy is needed ; a desire \nto show forth our love to our brothers and sisters whom \nwe see, to those whom we must love if we indeed love \nthe Lord whom with the bodily eye we do not see. And \nif in sadness of soul we are yearning \xe2\x80\x94 and, as we think, \nhopelessly \xe2\x80\x94 for the sympathy of others, let us seek that \nDivine sympathy, the assurance of which brings consola- \ntion to the human heart of our Lord. Let us seek Divine \n\n\n\n248 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nsympathy, not with the thought of being made inde- \npendent of human sympathy, but so that we ourselves \nmay have alike our own longings for sympathy deepened \nand intensified, and our own power of bestowing sym- \npathy made greater, and may become fellow-toilers with \nour Lord in the work of binding up the broken hearts of \nhis earthly brethren, in bringing to sad and weary souls, \nto souls laden with remembrance of sin, the message of \nDivine forgiveness. \n\nAnd as this morning we, in our solemn eucharistic ser- \nvice, lift up our hearts unto the Lord ; as we join our \nupraised voices with those of angels and archangels, and \nwith all the company of heaven, in lauding and magnify- \ning the Lord\'s glorious name, \xe2\x80\x94 let us indeed feel assured \nthat the thoughts of our hearts are in sympathy with the \nthoughts that animate the hearts of the redeemed in the \nChurch above ; let us strive inwardly to gain an assur- \nance of the sympathy of the Divine One \\ let us realize \nthat Christ has drawn near to us to speak to our hearts \nwords of love ; let us depart hence with thankful hearts, \nwith hearts resolved to be messengers of Divine love and \nsympathy to all around us, so that no one in the circle \nin which we move shall feel alone in a sad and weary \nworld, and that ourselves with all our friends may grow \ntogether into the higher Christian life of love, may in- \ncrease ever in Divine charity, and enter more consciously, \nevery day of our lives, into union with the Lord. \n\n\n\nFENELON\'S PRAYER. 249 \n\nXLII. \n\n(Euestiag before Easier, \nFENELON\'S PRAYER. \n\nREV. F. C. EWER, S. T. D. \n\n" O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give it ; and when thou \nhast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep it for thee : and save me, in spite of \nmyself, for Jesus Christ\'s sake. Ame?i. v \n\nSome time since, in preparing for the holy communion, \nmy eye fell upon this little prayer of the good Bishop \nF^nelon. It is a prayer for every one of us. Good for \nthe priest, good for the people ; and, as this prayer has \nbeen a comfort to me, I bring it this morning, and give \nit to you. It expresses what we all feel, and just what \nthe Christian wants to say. Our hearts are all alike, and \nas in better moments we realize how we would like to \noffer ourselves truly to God and be his, yet for all our \nwords we know not exactly how to do it, or whether we \nhave done it, after all, so that we are sure he has accepted, \nrealizing that we would, but cannot truly, give him our \nhearts. And then, as after we have made the offer in \nour poor way, and think we can keep the vow, we find \nourselves, nevertheless, falling again before our besetting \nsin ; as we feel our impotency, and that we cannot our- \nselves keep the heart for God which we thought we had \ngiven to him ; and then, as when we have tried our- \n\n\n\n250 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nselves with that rigid self-examination by the rule of \nGod\'s commandments, which the Church requires of \nevery one of her children before he approaches the holy \naltar, we find, that, in some way or other, we are violat- \ning all those commandments, and are thus brought to the \nrealization of what weak sinners we are, how we are con- \nstantly losing all claim to salvation through our erring \ncourse, and how, nevertheless, we would not that this \nshould all be so after all our prayers, \xe2\x80\x94 there is a some- \nthing left in the breast, a dumb longing that can find \nno utterance, a somewhat we would say, and yet we \nknow not what. The prayers which we are using in our \nprivate worship all suppose a thoroughness in our devo- \ntion to God, a completeness in our vows and purposes, \nwhich the past tells us and which we feel is not within \nus ; which we would have, but cannot attain to. There \nis a lingering want within us, a something that we would \nsay but for the want of language. Oh, how does the little \nprayer of the good Catholic bishop give voice to the dumb \nfeeling within us ! " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I \ncannot give it ; and when thou hast it, oh ! keep it, for \nI cannot keep it for thee : and save me in spite of myself, \nfor Jesus Christ\'s sake. Amen." O Christian ! do you \nfeel your weakness, and yet your dependence upon God ; \nyour willingness to cast yourself upon him, and be \nmoulded by him as he would and not as you would, and \nan earnest desire for salvation? Here is your prayer; \nand like the prayer of the publican that stood afar off, \nand cried only, "God be merciful to me a sinner," it too \nwill be accepted by Heaven as it goes warm from your \n\n\n\nFENELON\'S PRAYER. 251 \n\nbreast. " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give \nit ; and when thou hast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep \nit for thee : and save me in spite of myself, for Jesus \nChrist\'s sake. Amen." \n\nBeloved, in the sacrament -of the blessed eucharist, \none re-dedicates himself to God. The primary meaning \nof the word "sacrament " is oath. It is an act, then, \nof solemn vowing. The adult vows himself to God in \nholy baptism. But after that act we are continually \nerring. Feeble as we are, we are in need, therefore, of \nother opportunities, when we may rouse ourselves, and \nwherein we may strive to give our hearts again and again, \nthrough life, more truly to God. To this end he has \nkindly arranged an opportunity at the blessed sacrifice \nof the altar. Coming hither, we offer our hearts, which \nmay have wandered : we swear anew our allegiance to \nGod. Nor are we the only agents acting here. There \nare two actors here, \xe2\x80\x94 God, whom we may have forgot- \nten, God whom we have grieved, stands here also to \naccept the offer, mercifully to forgive the past, and take \nthe poor hearts we bring to him. In the giving by God \nof the body and blood, in the receiving and consuming \nby us in faith, the past is forgotten on his part ; the oath, \nthe vow, on our part is reiterated ; the covenant of life \nbetween you and him is sealed anew. As you kneel \nhere, remember, dearly beloved, it is the solemn hour of \nre -dedication of the heart to God by holy sacrament and \nby holy oath. Who is there that is equal to the act ? Who \nis there that does not remember how oft he hath given \nthat heart back again to the world? Who is there that \n\n\n\n252 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nhas not again and again broken the vows of his solemn \neucharist? Who is there, then, that is worthy so much \nas to gather up the crumbs of this sacred table ? Who is \nthere, that, as he remembers the past, is sure of his heart \nfor the future as he brings it to God? As faltering we \ndraw near, bringing with us those poor uncertain hearts of \nours to offer them, let us always remember that God is \nlong-suffering, God is love ; and let us come, not too con- \nfidently, but with the prayer of the good bishop on our \nlips, \xe2\x80\x94 " O Lord ! take thou my heart, for I cannot give \nit \xe2\x80\xa2 mercifully make up what I lack." \n\nBut the holy eucharist is not merely a sacrament of \nre-dedication on our part, and acceptance on the part \nof God. It is also, on our part, an oath of new resolution \nthrough which God gives us strength to enable us to keep \nour resolutions. And yet how apt we are to waste that \nsupply of strength ! how apt are we to forget that there \nis that within us received here, the holy Christ made \none with us, \xe2\x80\x94 Christ who is our strength, which, if we \nwill only use it, will enable us to overcome temptation ! \n" I can do all things through Christ which strengthened \nme." How apt are we to forget that if we go forth with \nthat within us, with Christ, our great Friend, who has con- \nquered Satan for us, and resist the Devil, God has prom- \nised that the Devil will flee from us ! If, without the \nassistance of this Christ, we personally and alone attempt \nto resist the Devil (he is an archangel, fallen though \nhe is), he is the stronger nature, and we shall be sure to \nfall. But Christ has conquered him for us. Christ gives \nhimself spiritually to us here to stand by us, nay, within \n\n\n\nFENELON\'S PRAYER. 253 \n\nus ; in the warfare to become, as it were, the soul of our \nsouls ; and if our faith doth not recognize him as within \nus, he passes as naught to us. And yet, brethren, how \nwasteful are we, I say, during each month, of the riches \nof the eucharist ! As we remember our broken resolu- \ntions then, and how easily we slip into sin notwithstand- \ning all, and how hard it is for us, as we mingle in the \nworld, prone as we are to forget and neglect God\'s assist- \nance, to keep the heart for God which we have vowed to \nhim, let us, whenever we approach hither, draw near with \nthe prayer of the good bishop on our lips, \xe2\x80\x94 " O Lord ! \ntake thou my heart, for I cannot give it ; and when thou \nhast it, oh ! keep it, for I cannot keep it for thee." But \nthe blessed eucharist is not only a holy oath of re-dedi- \ncation on our part, and re-acceptance on God\'s part ; and \nit is not only the binding on our part of fresh resolu- \ntions, and on God\'s the imparting of strength toward the \nkeeping of our resolutions : but it is that sacrament where- \nby we receive all other benefits of Christ\'s passion. For \nChrist\'s work is twofold, \xe2\x80\x94 general and particular, \xe2\x80\x94 what \nhe did for all, and what he does for each. On the cross \nhe died for all generally; in this blessed eucharist he \napplies himself and the merits of his cross to the private \nsoul of one by one, while on the cross his is the general \ntitle and office of the Saviour of the world. But at the \nholy table he draws near, and is personally the Saviour of \neach, applying his broken body to each one. It is to the \nblessed eucharist that we, as separate Christians, come, \nas a means through which we may gain streams of salva- \ntion from the cross. It is in the blessed eucharist that \n\n\n\n254 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nGod looks upon the cross we there plead before him, and \nsaves us through Christ. And as we approach this holy \nsacrament, feeling that we would offer our hearts better \nthan we can, and conscious of our weakness, conscious \nof our unsteadiness of purpose when we have offered; \nconscious that though in better moments we would be \nobedient, yet in weaker moments we are too often, alas ! \nwillingly disobedient ; that we would keep our hearts true, \nbut cannot ; and that, if we are to be saved, God must do \nthe most of it himself, \xe2\x80\x94 let us come with the full prayer \non our lips. Let it be always with us in our pews before \nwe arise to approach. Let us breathe it as we draw near \nand fall on our knees, \xe2\x80\x94 "O Lord! now take thou my \nsoul, for I cannot give it ; and when thou hast it, oh ! \nkeep it, for I cannot keep it for thee : and save me in \nspite of myself, for Jesus Christ\'s sake. Amen." \n\n\n\nXLIII. \n\nTOetmegtiarj before lEaster. \nGODS LOVE TO MAN. \n\nREV. F. W. FABER, D.D. \n\nWe have known and believed the love that God hath to us. \xe2\x80\x94 i John \niv. 1 6. \n\nReason and revelation, science and theology, nature, \ngrace, and glory, alike establish the infallible truth, that \n\n\n\nGOD\'S LOVE TO MA IV. 255 \n\nGod loves his own creatures, and loves them only as God \ncan love. The question is, why he loves us ; and our \nfirst step towards an answer must be to examine the char- \nacter and degree of this love. Let us see what God\'s \nlove of us is like. \n\nIn the first place, it passes all example. We have \nnothing to measure it by, nothing to compare it with. \nIt is without parallel, without similitude. It is based \nupon his own eternal goodness, which we do not under- \nstand. This leads us to its next feature, that it does not \nresemble human love, either in kind or in degree. It \ndoes not answer to the description of a creature\'s love. \nIt manifests itself in different ways. It cannot be judged \nby the same principles. We cannot rise to the idea of it \nby successive steps of greater or less human love. The \nties of paternal, fraternal, conjugal affection all express \ntruths about the Divine love ; but they not only express \nthem in a very imperfect way, they also fall infinitely \nshort of the real truth, of the whole truth. This is our \nthird feature of it, that not even a glorified soul can ever \nunderstand it. If even they who see God cannot com- \nprehend his love, what manner of love must it necessarily \nbe? And yet it is ours, our own possession; and God\'s \none desire is, by hourly influxes of grace, to increase that \nwhich is already incalculable, to enrich us with an appar- \nently unspeakable abundance of that whose least degree \nis beyond the science of archangels. It is another fea- \nture of this love, that it seems so to possess God as to \nmake him insensible to reduplicated wrongs, and to set \none attribute against another. There is nothing like \n\n\n\n256 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nGod\'s love, except God\'s unity. It is the whole of God. \nMercy must be risked by the permission of evil. That \nchoice perfection of the Most High, his intolerably shin- \ning sanctity, must be exposed to inevitable outrage by \nthe freedom of created wills. Only love must be satis- \nfied. The most stupendous schemes of redemption shall \nseem to tax the infinity of wisdom so as to satisfy justice, \nprovided only that the satisfaction be not made at the \nexpense of love. Love appears \xe2\x80\x94 oh these poor human \nwords ! \xe2\x80\x94 to stand out from the equality of the Divine \nperfections. Yet even love, for love\'s own sake, will \ncome down from the eminence of its dignity. It will take \nman\'s love as a return for itself. It will count that for a \nreturn, which bears no resemblance to the thing returned, \neither in kind or in degree. The mutual love of God \nand man is truly a friendship, of which the reciprocity is \nall on one side. Compared to the least fraction of God\'s \nenormous love of us, what is all the collective love he \nreceives from angels, and from men, but as less than the \nleast drop in the boundless sea ! Hence we may well \nreckon as a fifth feature of this love, that its grandeur is \na trial even to the faith which finds no difficulty in the \nmystery of the undivided Trinity. If we have had to \nwork for God, have we not found more men puzzled and \ntempted by the love of God, than by any other article of \nthe faith? Indeed, mosf of the temptations against the \nfaith, when properly analyzed, resolve themselves into \ntemptations arising from the seeming excesses of Divine \nlove. It is the excessive love of the incarnation and the \npassion, which makes men find it hard to believe those \n\n\n\nGOD\'S LOVE TO MAN. 257 \n\nmysteries. We confess it seems to us that he who, on \nreflection, can receive and embrace those two proposi- \ntions, that God loves us, and that God desires our love, \ncan find nothing difficult hereafter in the wonders of \ntheology. Another feature of this love is, that it is eter- \nnal, which is in itself an inexplicable mystery. As there \nnever was a moment when God was not, in all the plen- \nitude of his self-sufficient majesty, so there never was a \nmoment when he did not love us. He loved us not only \nin the gross as his creatures, not only as atoms in a mass, \nas units in a multitude, all grouped together and not \ntaken singly ; but he loved us individually. He loved us \nwith all those distinctions and individualities which make \nus ourselves, and prevent our being any but ourselves. \nOnce more : the seventh feature of this love which God \nbears us is that it is in every way worthy of himself, and \nthe result of his combined perfections. It would be, of \ncourse, an intolerable impiety to suppose the contrary. \nIf it be a finite love, where is its limit ? If it went to \nthe crucifixion, who can say where it will not go, if need \nshould be? If it be a love short of immense, who has \never exhausted it? Look at it in heaven at this moment ; \nit is rolling like countless silver oceans into countless \nspirits and unnumbered souls. Ages will pass uncounted, \nand still the fresh tides will roll. If his love be mutable, \nwhen did it change ? Is a whole past eternity no warrant \nfor its perseverance ? Is not fidelity its badge and token, \na fidelity which is like no created thing although we call \nit by a human name ? Is it not also a benignant love, \na merciful love, a just love? Is it not a love which \n\n\n\n258 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ndirects the whole providence of God, and makes his \nabsolute dominion over us our most perfect freedom? \nAnd, finally, is it not its very characteristic, that it should \nbe itself our end, our reward, our consummate joy in \nGod? Thus it is the result of his combined perfections, \na sort of beautiful external parable of his incommunica- \nble unity. \n\n\n\nXLIV. \n\nSCjjurstoag before lEagter, \nTHE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nMy soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. \xe2\x80\x94 Matt. xxvi. 38. \n\nWhat in human literature, ancient or modern \xe2\x80\x94 what \nin Holy Scripture, Old Testament or New \xe2\x80\x94 strikes the \nmind with such tender astonishment as the familiar record \nof the Redeemer\'s agony on the last night before his \ncrucifixion? To see stalwart manhood struggling with \ndisease and distracted with pain \xe2\x80\x94 to see fragile beauty \nlanguishing in consumption and slowly fading from the \nworld \xe2\x80\x94 to see innocent childhood writhing in convul- \nsions and stretching out its little hands for aid in the chill \nwaters of death \xe2\x80\x94 either of these were a sight sufficiently \ntouching for a tender and sympathetic nature. But to \nsee the immaculate Son of God, the almighty Maker and \nSustainer of the universe, in his tabernacle of human flesh, \n\n\n\nTHE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 259 \n\nwrestling with an unknown mental anguish, mysteriously \ndeprecating the crisis of his woe, bathed with a bloody \nperspiration, and sustained by angelic succor \xe2\x80\x94 here is \na spectacle which alike moves our compassion and con- \nfounds our reason. To such a view we are now invited ; \nbut let us draw near with reverence, for the ground we \ntread is holy. \n\nSome thirty-five years ago, a book was written to prove \nthat Christ\'s sufferings were the sufferings no less of his \ndivinity than of his humanity. The argument was an \nelaborate failure. The doctrine that the divine nature \nof Jesus suffered is not warranted by any declaration of \nHoly Scripture, nor can it be deduced thence by any \nfair process of reasoning. The suffering of the Logos \nwas both unnecessary and impossible : \xe2\x80\x94 unnecessary, \nbecause, the two natures constituting but one person, the \nsuffering of the inferior would answer all the purposes to \nbe secured by the suffering of the superior ; impossible, \nbecause one of the essential attributes of a perfect and \ninfinite spirit must be perfect blessedness, which is in- \ncompatible even with the possibility of suffering. The \nsuffering of our blessed Lord, therefore, was the suffering \nof his humanity only ; and it was of his human spirit he \nsaid \xe2\x80\x94 " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." \nWhat was the cause, and what the nature, of that sorrow? \n\nWas it the feeling of remorse ? This none can experi- \nence but the guilty. Christ did no iniquity, and challenged \nall his enemies to convict him of sin. There was not a \n\n\n\n260 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nstain upon his conscience, nor a moral shadow upon his \nlife. Had he been a sinner, how could he have been a \nSaviour to other sinners ? To say that he suffered remorse \nfor the sins of men in his representative character as their \nlegal substitute, is too absurd to require refutation. \n\nWas it the" fear of his enemies? All power was his in \nheaven and earth. Why should he fear the worms he \nmade ? Let them surround him by thousands ; he can \npass through their midst and go his way, or call down \nfire from heaven to consume them, or bring a legion of \nangels to scatter them, or make the earth open her mouth \nand swallow them up, or paralyze the tongue that speaks \nagainst him, or the hand put forth to seize him. He has \nseen times of apparently greater danger than this ; but \nwho ever knew him to quail before the malice of persecu- \ntion or the menace of power? \n\nWas it the dread of a cruel death? To die, he came \ninto the world. To be capable of dying, he assumed our \nmortal nature. From the first he knew the necessity of \nhis death, and distinctly foresaw its mode, with all its \ncircumstances of torture and of shame. Yet he consented \nto it ; he rejoiced in the prospect. From the throne of \nthe universe, he beheld a cross planted on Calvary ; and \nto embrace that cross, he abdicated that throne. His \nviews and feelings are still unchanged, and Golgotha \nacquires no terror from, its contiguity. Why should He \nfear death, who is himself the resurrection and the life ? \nWhy should He fear death, who by dying is to destroy \n\n\n\nTHE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 261 \n\nhim that hath the power of death, and make earth\'s \ncemeteries the seed-fields of immortality? \n\nWas it the displeasure of his eternal Father? The \nthought is blasphemy. Never was the eternal Father \ndispleased with his incarnate Son. Both at his baptism \nand at his transfiguration, the Father testified of him by \na voice from heaven \xe2\x80\x94 " This is my beloved Son, in whom \nI am ever well pleased." God can be displeased with \nnone but sinners, but his Son has never sinned. To say \nthat he was displeased with his Son as the substitute for \nsinners, is to contradict all that the Scriptures say of his \ninfinite love in sending his Son to be the Saviour of the \nworld. Oh ! no ; God the Father was never better pleased \nwith his beloved Son, than when that Son came with \ndelight to do his Father\'s will. Never was he belter \npleased with him, than when he saw him writhing in the \nagony of the olive-garden, and sent an angel for his \nsuccor. \n\nWas it the penalty of God\'s violated law? Such is the \nteaching of a certain school in theology. They say that \nChrist suffered, in kind and in amount, just what the sin- \nner deserved to suffer, and must have suffered if he had \nnot been redeemed, \xe2\x80\x94 all that the whole multitude of his \nredeemed would have suffered, had they been lost for- \never. They tell us that the sins of his people are all \nimputed to him, and he is treated as if he had himself \ncommitted them all ; that the Almighty Justice gathers all \nthe curses of the broken law into one huge avenging bolt, \n\n\n\n262 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\nand hurls it flaming down upon the soul of his people\'s \nSurety. One writer of this class that I have read main- \ntains that Jesus endured in Gethsemane and on Golgotha \nthe actual pains of hell, suffering in a few hours more \nthan all the myriads of fallen angels and reprobate human \nspirits could possibly suffer to all eternity. The state- \nment of such a theory is its refutation. We know not, \nindeed, what exquisite refinement of anguish the Re- \ndeemer endured in the garden and on the cross ; yet this \nwe know \xe2\x80\x94 there was no necessity that his suffering should \nbe infinite, nor equal in amount to the eternal suffering \nof all the lost, since it is not the measure of the suffering, \nbut the majesty of the Sufferer, and his voluntary surren- \nder as our sacrifice, that renders the dread endurance \nsufficiently meritorious for the salvation of all mankind. \n\nSome think his grief was that only of ar pure and \nbenevolent heart for the sins and sufferings of the race. \nThat this was an ingredient in his bitter cup, there can \nbe no question ; but this was not all the bitter potion. \nAlready, from the brow of Olivet, had he wept over Jeru- \nsalem, with tenderest lamentation anticipating her cruel \nfate ; and now, when she has finally rejected her gracious \nvisitation, and is ready to consummate her crimes by the \ncrucifixion of the manifest Messiah, his heart melts with \nunutterable anguish, as he thinks of the blind unbelief and \nenormous guilt of her reprobate population, and the wrath \nunto the uttermost soon to fall upon them, scattering them \nin hopeless exile among the nations, while they continue \nto discard his redemption, and obstinately adhere to an \n\n\n\nTHE MYSTERIOUS AGONY, 263 \n\nabrogated and soulless ceremonial, through all the ages \nof their retributive captivity. And to this vvoful picture \nmust be added the vision of Gentile wickedness, the de- \nlusions of idolatry, the sacrilege of superstition, the blas- \nphemy of unbelief, the wanton revelry of vice, the suffering \nof persecuted virtue, the general forgetfulness of God, the \nbitter scorn of the blood-sealed testament, the horror and \nhopelessness of guilty death-beds, the terrible judgments \npoured out upon successive generations of the profligate, \nthe whole dark panorama of human misery down to the \nend of the world, and the weeping and wailing that ascend \nevermore from the place of final punishment. All this, \nwith much more that we cannot imagine, may have passed \nbefore the omniscient spirit of our Saviour in Gethsemane, \nconstituting one cause of his inconceivable sorrow. But \nin his agony there was a still deeper and more mysterious \nsignificance. A heavier burden pressed him to the earth, \nand forced the red life through every pore, till " his sweat \nwas as great drops of blood falling down to the ground." \n\nOthers attribute our Lord\'s great sorrow to the Prince \nof darkness, whose hour was now come, and all whose \npowers here rallied to the final assault upon the Captain \nof our salvation. They suppose that in some terrific \nshape Satan met him in the garden, that through this \napparition he "began to be sore amazed and very heavy," \nand that to strengthen him in some way which we cannot \nunderstand for this conflict with " the angel of the bot- \ntomless pit" came the "angel from heaven." Without \nimagining that he had any doubt of the issue, or any fear \n\n\n\n264 CHUCRH READER FOR LENT. \n\nof the enemy he had already vanquished, we may ration- \nally suppose that a real encounter with the fallen arch- \nangel, though perhaps altogether of a mental character, \nwas another cause of the suffering here recorded. To \ndestroy the works of the Devil came the Son of God into \nthe world. Ever since his personal appearance in our \nplanet, this one aim has occupied his thought and gov- \nerned all his actions. Now the decisive struggle is at \nhand. To-morrow, on Mount Calvary, the victory shall \nbe consummated. To-morrow, on Mount Calvary, he \nshall bruise the old serpent\'s head beyond all power of \nhealing. With blood-dyed garments, travelling in the \ngreatness of his strength, he shall trample the hosts of \nhell in his anger, and make them drunk in his fury. \nMighty to save, he shall spoil principalities and powers, \nmaking a show of them openly, triumphing over them by \nhis cross, and leading captive the captivity of his people. \nThe day of vengeance is in his heart, and the year of \nhis redeemed is come. Satan knows his antagonist, and \ntrembles for his throne. Gathering all his forces to the \nolive-garden, he plies the Son of God with his heaviest \nartillery. True, he " hath nothing" in Christ, \xe2\x80\x94 no fallen \nnature upon which he can work, no sinful passion to \nwhich he can appeal, no principle of evil ready to act as \nhis ally, no possible means of diverting him from his \npurpose or defeating his redemption of our race ; yet can \nhe inflict upon that sinless human soul an inconceivable \namount of suffering ; and feeling the utter hopelessness \nof his own cause, and foreseeing the speedy subversion of \nhis own empire, he arrays his host for battle, and assails \n\n\n\nTHE MYSTERIOUS AGONY. 265 \n\nhis Conqueror with all the virulence of infernal hate, with \nall the fury of a desperate revenge, till the appeal to the \nFather and the perspiration of blood bring down the \nangel, not to release from the conflict, but to strengthen \nfor the victory. \n\nBut was this last struggle with the Wicked One the \nchief cause of our Saviour\'s sorrow? I think not, and in \nall that I have said another has been anticipated. There \nis not time to dwell upon it at any length, though by far \nthe most important point of all. In the vicarious and \nsacrificial character of Christ\'s sufferings, must be found \nthe key to this great mystery. The Scripture proof is \nclear and ample, that he suffered in our stead, as our sub- \nstitute, to atone for our sins and procure our salvation^ \nHis sufferings began with his human life, and all that he \nsuffered was for human guilt. Almost every variety of \naffliction to which humanity is liable, except remorse of \nconscience and the wrath of God, seems to have been \nwrung into his single cup. But now he suffers as he \nnever suffered before. In the whole history of the Man \nof sorrows, from its beginning in Bethlehem, to- its conclu- \nsion on Calvary, there is not another scene like this. \nNow, in his unknown sorrows and sufferings, by him felt, \nbut to us incomprehensible, he pays down the first instal- \nment of our pledged redemption. Why that sore amaze- \nment ? is it not the anticipated " chastisement of our \npeace " ? Why that mental heaviness ? is it not the laying- \non of "the iniquity of us all"? Why that exceeding \nsorrow? is it not the Almighty Justice putting him to \n\n\n\n266 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\ngrief? Why that bloody perspiration? is it not the eter- \nnal Father bruising him in the wine-press? Why that \nincomprehensible agony? is it not the travail of his soul \nfor the ransom of ours ? Why that thrice-uttered prayer \nthat the cup might pass from him? is it not the mingled \ncup of all our woes put into his hand that he may drain \nit to the dregs? Why comes an angel from heaven to \nsuccor him in the dread crisis of his enterprise ? is not \nthis our true Atlas, bearing the world upon his shoulders, \nand lifting it out of darkness into the everlasting light ? \nJesus is suffering, the just for the unjust, to bring us to \nGod ; and his sufferings are sufficient to satisfy the de- \nmands of justice and procure the pardon of the guilty. \nThe claims of the broken law are as strongly asserted, \nand the principles of the Divine administration are az \nthoroughly vindicated, in the sufferings of the legal sub- \nstitute, as they could have been in the sufferings of the \nsinner himself; and thus God can be just while he justi- \nfies the believer in Jesus, fully sustaining the law while he \nexercises mercy to the transgressor. The Father\'s inflic- \ntion of anguish inconceivable upon his own beloved Son \nis a more appalling exhibition of his hatred to sin and his \npurpose to punish the sinner \xe2\x80\x94 a more emphatic affirma- \ntion of his regard for his own righteous government, and \nhis jealousy for the purity and happiness of the moral \nuniverse \xe2\x80\x94 a more powerful appeal to the conscience of \nmankind, a more effectual preventive of evil-doing, and \na more glorious guard to virtue \xe2\x80\x94 than could have been \nfurnished in the utter reprobation and ruin of the whole \napostate race. Had all the teeming millions of earth\'s \n\n\n\nTHE GREA T SA CRIFICE. 267 \n\nguilty population, from Adam to his latest son, been cast \nalive into the lake of fire, their hopeless anguish would \nhave been a far less impressive display of the Divine \nholiness than the agony and bloody sweat of Jehovah\'s \nFellow in Gethsemane ; and their weeping and wailing \nthrough all the ages of reverseless doom would have been \na far less terrific demonstration of the Divine justice than \nthe supplication of the well-beloved Sufferer, \xe2\x80\x94 u Father, \nif it be possible, let this cup pass from me \' " Doubtless \nJesus endured as keen if not as complicate an anguish \nwhile he lay struggling upon the turf, as when he hung \nwrithing upon the tree ; and if the mighty atonement \nwhich reconciles heaven and earth was completed on \nCalvary, it was at least begun in Gethsemane. \n\n\n\nXLV. \n\n\xc2\xa9art jFtftag ffforntncj. \nTHE GREAT SACRIFICE. \n\nREV. J. CROSS, D.D., LL.D. \n\nHe was wounded for our transgressions ; he was bruised for our iniqui- \nties ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and with his stripes we \nare healed. \xe2\x80\x94 Isa. liii. 5. \n\nWith the whole Church, we gather to-day around the \ncross. With the whole multitude of the redeemed, we \ncome to gaze upon a sight, such as our world has wit- \n\n\n\n268 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nnessed but once, and can never witness again. Seven \nhundred years before the event, the prophet delineates \nthe scene, as if it were actually present to his view ; \nwith a few inimitable touches depicting the humiliation \nand anguish of the Divine Sufferer, and investing the \nsymbol of unutterable shame with a glory too bright for \nour unshaded eyes. This chapter is the most precious \nCalvary token of the Old Testament, and our text em- \nbodies the whole mystery of human redemption : " He \nwas wounded for our transgressions ; he was bruised for \nour iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon \nhim; and with his stripes we are healed." \n\nThere is a certain vague, confused, and palpably incon- \nsistent theory of religion, which teaches that God forgives \nthe sinner for his contrition, for his reformation, for his \npunitive sufferings, for his meritorious sacrifices, or for his \nwell-doing at one time to make amends for his ill-doing \nat another. Nothing could be more violently contra- \ndictory of Holy Scripture. Creature merit is an absurdity. \nHow can he who owes all he has and all he is to God \nrender to him any thing beyond his sovereign claim \nas Creator? How, then, can the merit of a sinful crea- \nture, who has hitherto withholden from God his own, \nevery thing he claims of love and obedience, be con- \nceived of as within the limits of possibility? What \nvirtue can there be in penitential tears to wash away the \ncrimes of the past? what power in the correction of evil \nhabits to undo the mischief already done ? what efficacy \nin the penalty of violated law* to repair the wrong for \n\n\n\nTHE GREA T SA CRIEICE. 269 \n\nwhich it is inflicted? what moral value in self-denial or \nsuffering to set over against the guilt of former self- \nindulgence ? or what magical influence in a present service, \nalways due, to satisfy the rigid demands of Heaven for \nthe constant delinquency of many years? Nay, "with- \nout the shedding of blood is no remission of sins ; " and \nit must be the blood of an immaculate victim, such as \ncannot be found among the sons of men ; yet must that \nvictim possess our nature, in order to be our proper repre- \nsentative, and suffer in our stead ; but he must also be \ndivine, since naught less than divinity can, by voluntary \nsuffering, merit Divine mercy for the guilty, and reconcile \nEternal Justice to the fallen and rebellious. None but \n" God manifest in the flesh " can meet these demands ; \nand " God manifest in the flesh " has actually met them, \nand " become the Author of eternal salvation to all them \nthat obey him." And no man depending upon any other \nmerit or mediation for pardon, holiness, and eternal life, \nhas accepted God\'s method for the recovery of the lost ; \nfor the Bible, the whole Bible, from the tragical story of \nAbel in Genesis to the thunder-chant of the innumerable \nransomed in the Revelation, everywhere insists upon the \nsalvation of sinners through this Divine Sacrifice offered \nonce for all ; and we must renounce the word of God, or \ncling to the cross of Christ. \n\nAnd within the limits of humanity, this one sacrifice \nis universally available. The Son of God, in the likeness \nof sinful flesh suffering for human sin, represents every \nsingle individual sinner, as truly as if there were not \nanother in the universe. He "gave himself a ransom for \n\n\n\n270 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nall," a "propitiation for the sins of the whole world." \nAll the ends of the earth he invites to look unto him and \nbe saved. All who labor and are heavy laden he calls to \ncome unto him for rest. And all who come are assured \nof his ability to save them unto the uttermost ; and none \nwho come shall be cast out, or turned unheeded away. \nAnd to you, my brethren ! to every one of you, O my \nsinful brethren ! is the word of this salvation sent; and \nevery man who hears the message is as much personally \ninterested in the announcement as if, of all the world, it \nwere -sent to him alone ; yea, as much as if his name had \nbeen placarded by angel hands with Pilate\'s inscription \nupon the cross, as the one only sinner that Jesus died \nto save. Accept, then, this precious sacrifice ; believe in \nChrist as your own sufficient Saviour ; and in proof of \nyour faith, yield yourself soul and body to him in humble \nand hearty obedience. Come and consecrate yourself to \nhis service in an everlasting covenant. Come and receive \nthe promised seal of the heavenly Paraclete in the laying- \non of hands. Come and eat the flesh and drink the \nblood given for the life of the world. Come without any \npreparation, but that of a broken heart and a contrite \nspirit. \n\n" Let not conscience make you linger, \n\nNor of fitness fondly dream ; \nAll the fitness he requireth, \n\nIs to feel your need of him." \n\nFifty pence or five hundred, your debt shall be freely and \nfully forgiven. Your eternal Surety cannot fail, though \nthe earth dissolve and the heavens pass away. All equally \n\n\n\nTHE GREA T SA CRIFICE. 2 7 1 \n\nneed his redemption, and all may equally enjoy the un- \nspeakable \'mercy. Not in your own merit, but in the \nmerit of the Crucified, you stand accepted before God, \nand enter into the fellowship of eternal life. \n\nTo-day the marshalled hosts of the faithful march to a \nmelancholy strain, and all their banners are emblazoned \nwith the bloody symbol of the cross. Who is heedless of \nthe spectacle? Let him not talk of religion. Religion \nto him is but an empty name. The man who is indiffer- \nent to the cross has no religion ; let him not deceive him- \nself by an unmeaning word. Religion is sympathy with \nChrist, an alliance with the living God through the sacri- \nfice of the cross. A Christianity without the cross is a \nplanet without a sun. In the cross all truth concentres ; \nfrom the cross all charity radiates ; around the cross all \nvirtue thrives, and blossoms beneath its crimson dew. \nHere the true-hearted find the source of life, the strength \nof action, the means of victory, and the pledge of eternal \nmercy. St. Paul calls it " the wisdom of God and the \npower of God ; " and with all philosophy at his feet, and \nall poetry on his tongue, and all miracles awaiting his \nword, and the unspeakable utterances of the third heaven \nstill echoing in his soul, he determines to glory in nothing \nbut the cross of Christ. To knew Christ and him cruci- \nfied, this is the transcendent science, and the burden of \nthe immortal song. " He was wounded for our transgres- \nsions ; he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastise- \nment of our peace was upon him ; and with his stripes \nwe are healed." \n\n\n\n272 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\n\n\nXLVI. \n\n\xc2\xa9oati Jrfoag lEbentng. \nTHE CRUCIFIXION. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\nThey crucified him. \xe2\x80\x94 Luke xxiii. 33. \n\nWe commemorate to-day the greatest tragedy in this \nworld\'s history. \n\n" Holy Jesu, grant us tears, \nFill us with heart-searching fears," \n\nas we gaze on the sad pictures of the first Good Friday. \nIt is past midnight, and we can just see a band of men \ncoming forth from a green, tree-shadowed garden. Here \nand there a ray of moonlight, striking through the trees, \nflashes on bright armor, and we see that some of the \nband are Roman soldiers. The torches which are car- \nried by many show the faces of bearded men, clad in \nEastern dress. These are Jews, and their eyes are fixed \nfiercely and hungrily upon one, who, with his hands tied \nbehind his back, and with bowed head, is dragged for- \nward across the brook Kedron, and up the hill towards \nJerusalem and the high priest\'s palace. In the back- \nground, among the shadows, I see some figures hovering ; \nand I can recognize the grizzled locks of Peter, and the \nfair young face of the beloved disciple. There is one \nalso in the crowd who hangs back, as though seeking an \n\n\n\nTHE CRUCIFIXION, 273 \n\nopportunity to escape : he dare not meet the eye of the \nsilent Prisoner, and his heart is torn with doubts, and \nhopes, and fears, as to the end of that terrible night\'s \nwork, and the kiss of betrayal. We look anon, and see \nthe sinless One in the presence of Annas the Sadducee, \nan old man, full of years, and of craft and cruelty. The \ncity of Jerusalem is crowded in every part with visitors \nto the passover feast, but yet all is still. \n\nThe weary night, the darkest in this world\'s history, \ndrags on. Jesus has been led away from Annas, who has \nin vain tried to find guilt in the innocent One. He has \nbeen taken from one side of the palace to the other, \nwhere dwells Caiaphas, the son-in-law of Annas. There \na few of the most fierce and bitter of his enemies are \nmet together, and seek, by the aid of false witnesses, to \nimpute wickedness to Him in whom was no sin. To the \nquestions, half sneering, half fearful, of Caiaphas, Jesus \nanswers not a word. " As a sheep dumb before her \nshearer," so the Lamb of God opens not his mouth. But \nat last he speaks. He has told them that he is the Son \nof God, and now the savage hatred and terror of the \ncrowd break forth. The mob sways to and fro, and \ngrows every moment more numerous and more danger- \nous. Many a white-haired teacher, forgetting his sacred \ncalling, is trying to inflame the passions of the people. \nThere is one ominous murmur throughout the assembly : \n"He is guilty of death." \n\nThe dawn is breaking, and the spring morning is cold \nand gray, as they hurry Jesus across the court of the high \npriest\'s house. Those sad eyes, so wan with looking on \n\n\n\n274 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe sins of men, gaze on the groups of servants who \nstand around the fire of coals. Whose is that loud and \neager voice? who is that whose broad Galilean dialect \nbetrays his origin, as he cries with an oath, " I know not \nthe man "? The sad eyes look on the face lighted up by \nthe blazing coals, and strike sorrow to the very heart of \ndenying Peter. And so with his wounded heart bearing \nthis fresh wound, the denial of his friend, Jesus goes to \nthe soldiers\' guard-room, to await the day, when he may \nbe judged by the whole Jewish council. \n\nOh, let us blindfold our eyes that we see not the insults \nof Him whom they have blindfolded ! The brutal sol- \ndiery have their wicked will of him, till the sun shines \nout ; and in the sweet Eastern morning, Jesus with bound \narms and marred face is dragged before the Jewish \ncouncil met in full assembly. Not one friendly face \nlooks forth from that line of grim judges. Nicodemus, \nand Joseph of Arimathea, are absent ; and scribe and \nelder, priest and Sadducee, are alike eager for the death \nof Jesus. And now the mock trial is over ; and since \nthey have not the power to put him to death, the Jews \ndetermine to take their victim to the Roman power ; and \nso the procession starts, under the hot Eastern sun, for \nthe gorgeous palace of Pilate the governor. The whole \ncity of Jerusalem is astir. The streets are crowded with \npeople, \xe2\x80\x94 villagers bringing their fruits and wares from \nBethany and Bethphage ; fishermen from Gennesareth, \nwho have come to keep the feast ; women and children \nguiding white-haired patriarchs ; and ever and anon stern \nRoman soldiers riding with their officer, and watching \nwarily for some riot among the people. \n\n\n\nTHE CRUCIFIXION. 275 \n\nAnd now all eyes are turned for a moment on a strange \nprocession. Yonder are the chief priests, with Caiaphas \nat their head, and others who are well known as the lead- \ning men of the great council. Strangers ask who is the \npale, worn man, bound as a condemned prisoner, whose \nplain and homely clothes are torn and disordered, whose \nface is bruised and bleeding, and round whom a frantic \nmob surges with angry cries. " He is the prophet of \nGalilee," say some, "a good man and a wise ;" "He is a \ndeceiver, and stirrer-up of sedition," say others ; and as \nthe crowd presses nearer, the Roman soldiers beat the \npeople back with their spears. \n\nAnd so they come to the beautiful palace of Pontius \nPilate, towering high up above the city, with its floors \nflashing with jewels, and its roofs glittering with gold, \nand its halls echoing with the plash of fountains and the \ncooing of doves. \n\nPilate sees in the excited crowd only a new sign of \nriot and rebellion in the people whom he fears and de- \nspises. He stands before the Jewish rulers, cold and \ndignified, without sympathy for accusers or accused. He \nsees that the priests are eager for blood, and he sees too \nplainly that the prisoner is innocent. He takes Jesus \nwithin the splendid hall, where his accusers will not come \non the eve of the passover. The Roman governor stands \nthere in his purple and fine linen, powerful, gorgeous, \ntroubled. The King of heaven and earth stands there \nalso, poor, despised, insulted, yet calm in the majesty of \ninnocence. The few words then spoken convince Pilate \nthat Jesus is legally innocent, and he tells the Jews so \n\n\n\n276 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nplainly. In vain : the shouts grow more fierce, and are \nechoed by distant voices in the city. Presently Jesus is \nsent to Herod, Pilate hoping to get rid of the respon- \nsibility. Once more through its cruel streets, more \ncrowded, more dangerous than ever, is the sinless One \ndragged to the palace of Herod Antipas, one of the \nworst of a bad line. \n\nWe may not dwell on the scene of mockery when \nHerod\'s soldiers set him at naught. Again Jesus is be- \nfore Pilate, wearing a white robe, which Herod has caused \nto be put on him in mockery. Again the wavering \nRoman tries to deliver the innocent. But he fears an \noutbreak : the city is filled with Jews, far out-numbering \nhis soldiers ; and already the cry is raised, " Thou art not \nCaesar\'s friend." He offers as a last choice to set the \nprisoner free, according to the passover privilege of the \nJews. But now a mighty roar goes up from numberless \nvoices, " Not this man, but Barabbas ! Crucify him, cru- \ncify him ! " And the terrible cry is taken up outside ; and \nfar off among the crowded streets, are heard the words, \n" Crucify him, crucify him ! " \n\nAnd so the sentence is given, and Jesus is delivered to \ntheir will. Think of the savage fury of the mob as it \nsweeps upon him ! The soldiers rescue him, and proceed \nto scourge him, according to the horrible custom of the \ntime. It was a punishment under which the victim often \ndied, but for Jesus the end is not yet. The mockery of \nthe soldiers follows the scourging. Herod\'s white robe, \nall stained with blood-drops now, is torn off, and a scarlet \ngarment is thrown over the bound and wounded form. \n\n\n\nTHE CRUCIFIXION. 277 \n\nJesus has called himself the King of the Jews, and he \nshall be crowned, say the soldiers. One twists some \nsharp thorny branches into a crown, and presses it on the \naching brow. Another has formed a sceptre from a reed, \nand has forced it between the bound and helpless hands ; \nand the mocking words are uttered, " Hail, King of the \nJews ! " If Pilate still hoped to save Jesus, the fury of the \ncrowd soon banished the hope. He has yielded against \nhis will, and knowledge of right ; he has washed his hands, \nas he thinks, of the blood of Jesus ; and soldiers have \nbeen sent to prepare a cross, \xe2\x80\x94 no difficult matter, as it \nwas the usual instrument of execution among the Romans, \n\xe2\x80\x94 and the great procession of sacrifice sets forth for Cal- \nvary. The crowd sweeps out through the city gate to \nlook on this great sight, \xe2\x80\x94 a motley crowd of secret friends \nand open enemies. \n\nWe know not for certain who was there, but I think \nwe can rightly name some of that great multitude. There \nwere many who had seen the works of mercy which Jesus \nhad done. Country-people from Nazareth would remem- \nber the quiet home among the hills, and the blameless \nlife of Him whom they called the "carpenter\'s son." \nWere there none there from Cana of Galilee, who re- \nmembered how the water was made wine ? Were there \nnone to tell of the daughter of Jairus, or the widow\'s son \nof Nain? I do not think that Lazarus and his sisters, \nfrom Bethany close at hand, would have been absent at \nsuch a time. \n\nWe know that there were women who followed him in \nthat dread procession ; and doubtless the tearful eyes of \n\n\n\n278 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nthe Virgin Mother, she with the white hair and the falter- \ning step, who leans upon the arm of St. John, saw how her \nSon fell fainting under the weight of the cross, and how \nSimon was forced to carry it. The spot is reached at last. \nThe authorities are determined to make the scene a \nnotable one, and two thieves are to die with the Lord of \nrighteousness. The Roman soldiers clear a space round \nthe three crosses ; the great crowd stands eagerly outside \nthe glittering barrier of armed men. The horrible details \nof the torture are watched with brutal interest. It is done \nat last : " they crucified him." How different the feelings \nof the two classes of spectators ! To the one class, this \nscene was only one of interest and excitement, in which \ntheir love for the horrible was satisfied. To the trembling \nbelievers in Jesus, to those who had learned to love him, \nand yet were afraid now to avow their love, the scene \nmust have been one of mingled astonishment, mystery, \nand grief. Could it be that He, the all-powerful, would \nreally yield to his enemies? Could the conqueror of \ndeath, the deliverer of Lazurus, really die? And who \nshall tell the thoughts which passed through the mind \nof the mother of Jesus, and of Mary Magdalene, and of \nmany another who loved him? If the eyes. of the Jewish \nrulers flashed with gratified rage, there must have been \nmany eyes wet with tears. \n\n, See how the blood drops from that crushed right hand ! \nThat hand lifted the little girl from her death-bed ; that \nhand stroked the sunny locks of little children in the old \ndays of his loving ministry ; that hand supported thy sink- \ning body, O weeping, penitent Peter ! \n\n\n\nTHE CRUCIFIXION. 279 \n\nSee how the nails have torn those weary feet ! Re- \nmember thy precious ointment, O mourning woman ! thy \ngift was not wasted indeed : it is written in heaven against \nthy name, " She hath done what she could." \n\nSee how the precious blood of the paschal Lamb falls \non the households of the world ! For thee, O Pilate, in \nthy pride, if thou wilt have it ; for thee, O Bartimaeus the \nbeggar, once blind, in thy humility, \xe2\x80\x94 for all alike it falls. \n" They crucified him ; " and you crucify him, all ye who \nsin of malicious wickedness. \n\n"Is not his love, at issue still with sin, \n\ncrucified \n\nVisibly when a wrong is done on earth ? " \n\nO proud man, remember your pride crucifies afresh the \nmeek and lowly Jesus ! O angry and cruel man, your \nhands drag Jesus again to Calvary ! O impure man and \nwoman, your lust is as the foul spitting on the face of \nJesus ! O selfish ones, your selfishness is a new cross for \nJesus ; new thorns, new nails, for Jesus ! And you, care- \nless daughters, frivolous, thoughtless, indifferent, you who \nwear a jewelled cross as a toy, you, by your carelessness \nand want of thought, make Jesus bear again the heavy \ncross of agony. \n\nO blessed Jesus ! by thy cross and passion, give us \nstrength so to mortify and kill all vices in us, that we may \ndie with thee to-day unto sin, and rise with thee to better \nthings on the bright Easter morning ! \n\n\n\n280 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nXLVIL \n\nSEastet 3E&e. \n7HS GARDEN GRAVE. \n\nREV. H. J. WILMOT-BUXTON, A.M. \n\nNow in the place where He was crucified there was a garden ; and in \nthe garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid \nthey Jesus. \xe2\x80\x94 John xix. 41, 42. \n\nA sepulchre in a garden. A strange place, surely; \nand a strange scene, which another of the Evangelists \ndescribes there. There was Mary Magdalene, and the \nother Mary, sitting over against the sepulchre. They had \npassed through all the agony of the last few terrible hours. \nThe betrayal, the mockery, the crucifixion with its fearful \naccompaniments, were over ; and their excited, agonized \nfeelings, strung up hitherto to the highest pitch, had now \nrelaxed, and fallen to the lowest note of utter misery. \nThey were watching in the garden by the grave of Jesus ; \nthey were clinging, as so many thousands have done \nsince that time, to the last relics of human nature ; not \nthinking of the living soul, but of the poor broken body \nwhich they had so recently embalmed with spices and \nwith tears. It was no garden --to the two Maries : it was \ndoubtless a fair spot, bright with Easter blossoms, where \n" the fig-tree put forth her green figs, and the vine with \nthe tender grape gave a good smell ; " but those two \nmourners saw nothing but a wilderness, and in that wil- \n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN GRAVE. 281 \n\nderness a rock wherein was a sepulchre, and all they \ncared for was hidden out of sight there. \n\nWhat thoughts they must have had ! what doubts and \nfears ! for, remember, they understood few of the Master\'s \nwords as yet. All the days must have recurred to them \nwhen they had walked with Jesus, and come back to \nparadise from which their mother Eve had fallen. The \ncalm, quiet hours at Bethany ; that sermon which puts \nall otner preachers to silence ; the words of comfort to \nthe sick and sorrowing ; the dark homes made bright \nhenceforth, \xe2\x80\x94 such memories must have come thronging \nupon the two Maries. They must have wondered, was it \nall in vain? were his promises all misunderstood? was He \nwho raised Lazarus, and the little daughter of Jairus, and \nthe widow\'s son, really dead, and buried in that sepul- \nchre ? And so, no answer coming, their sorrow was very \ndeep. They could not see Jesus : that was the reason. \nAnd so it is with us in our troubles : if we do not see \nJesus, unless we know his voice and see his hand, the \ngrave by which we watch seems sealed past all re-open- \ning ; the sea of sorrow into which we have fallen seems \nlike mid-ocean, unfathomable. Those mourners saw no \nflowers in the garden, because they could not see their \nLord. So, too, with us : the world\'s fairest gifts fail to \ncharm us. We cannot find the flowers in life\'s path, \nunless that path be one which we can tread along with \nour Redeemer. And the two Maries were mistaken in \ntheir sorrow, as we know ; a better flower than any in \nthat garden was buried in that sepulchre ; the Rose of \nSharon, of the root of Pavid, was there. Though their \n\n\n\n282 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nminds misgave them, their womanly instinct made them \nhope (women are ever more hopeful than men, and men \nmay thank God for it), and so they waited on ; and at \nlast to a woman the risen Saviour revealed himself. \n\nBoth creations, the old and the new, took place in a \ngarden. On the verge of the old world, and on the verge \nof the new, there was a garden ; and in each garden there \nwas a grave. Notice the analogy between them. In the \ngarden of Eden there was no death till sin entered in, \nand by sin came death ; so there was life there till the \ngrave was digged by Adam\'s sin, the grave of all humanity. \nIn the second garden, on the verge of the new creation, \nthe world of the gospel, there were death and the grave \nalready; and life came when Jesus was laid there. In \nEden we see the grave triumphant. "Thou shalt surely \ndie," rang out as the first funeral knell of all creation. \nNo matter how good, or brave, or young, or earnest : all, \nwith one or two miraculous exceptions, went down into \nthat grave first opened by fallen humanity in the garden. \nThe faith of the patriarch, the heroism of the prophet, \nthe piety of the Psalmist, could not reverse the sentence, \n" Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return ; " and \nthey went to their rest with no clear revelation to cheer \nthem, though, thanks be to God, "all these died in faith." \nNow look at that other garden, and see the grave van- \nquished by the Lord of life ; see what is blazoned over \nthe rocky sepulchre ; no longer " dust thou art," but " O \ndeath, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ? " \n\nAnd now let us gather a few flowers of teaching and of \ncomfort from the garden grave. " Near the place where \n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN GRAVE. 283 \n\nour Lord was crucified, there was a garden." So with \nus : near to where we are crucified, where we bear the \ncross of trouble and anxiety and pain, which lies more or \nless heavily on all, there is a garden. Our home is our \ngarden, our way of life is our garden ; and we are always \ntrying to plant it with flowers. We build our house, or we \ncarve out our path in life, and work hard, and so late take \nrest, that we may enjoy ourselves, that we may comfort \nour bodies, and cherish our families, and say to our souls, \n"Thou hast much good laid up for many years: eat, \ndrink, and be merry." We pull down our barns, and build \ngreater ; we lay in our wines, we purchase costly orna- \nments and furniture ; we marry the wife of our choice, \xe2\x80\x94 \nwhat is all this but planting a garden wherein we may \nenjoy ourselves? It is for this that the scholar reads \nand stores up rare volumes ; his library is his garden, \nthe flowers of literature are his flowers. It is for this, the \nmerchant schemes and plans new ventures ; for this the \ndigger toils in the gold-fields ; for this the enthusiast \ndreams. Our thoughts, like those of foolish, feeble \nAhab, are all set upon a garden. But in that garden, \nnear to where He was crucified, there was a sepulchre ; \nand so with us, every garden has its grave in it. We do \nnot see it, we do not think of it. We plant the fairest \nflowers, we cultivate the choicest fruits ; but what is a \nskull wreathed with roses more than a skull, and how is \na grave less a grave because it is edged with blossoms? \nWe all crave happiness, and our natural sense can see \nnothing but cloudless skies, thornless roses. And yet \nthere is a grave in each one\'s garden, and we know it \n\n\n\n284 CHURCH READER FOR LENT. \n\nnot ; nay, we can see the sepulchre among our neighbors\'* \nflowers, and yet never suspect our own. The blight of \nbankruptcy may have come next door, the grave of com- \nmercial ruin may come within ten feet of us ; but our \nanswer, is "Tush, /shall never be moved." The frost of \ndisappointment has killed my neighbor\'s roses ; the old \nsexton Time has dug a grave next door, and buried my \nneighbor\'s prosperity there \xe2\x80\xa2 the canker-worm of disease \nhas eaten to the heart of his most cherished treasure, \n" his wee white rose of all the world : " but my conserva- \ntory is unblighted, my nursery is unscathed. We walk \namongst our flowers, and see them growing up. There is \nour little child just budding ; there is our fair daughter, \nblossoming into womanhood ; there is our wife, like the \nfruitful vine upon the walls of our house. Do not talk to \nus of winter\'s snow, we are looking at spring and summer \nflowers ; do not talk to us of blight and canker-worm, \nthere is no blight now upon our children\'s health ; do not \ntalk to us of commercial failure, the money is growing and \nbearing fruit in our garden. And suddenly, as we wander \nalong, we stumble upon a grave. It was there all along, \nand we did not know it. We planted our garden without \na sepulchre, \'as we thought ; but the sepulchre was digged \nalready, and our flowers concealed it. Then, when we \nhave found it, all is changed. Travellers tell us that after \na storm in the tropics, the garden so lately beautiful with \nblossoms is converted in a few hours to a waste of sand \nand ruin. So with us : no sooner does the sepulchre in \nour garden open, than we see nothing but a wilderness \nmade by the tempest of affliction ; and we sit over \n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN GRAVE. 285 \n\nagainst the sepulchre as the women did, and cry, " Tis \nall barren, all lost ! where are my flowers ? My daughter, \nherself the fairest flower, is cut off; my peace of mind, \nwhich bloomed so tranquilly in the shade, is blighted for- \never. Oh the weariness of it ! Oh, wretched man that I \nam ! " So we talk at first, as we sit over against the sepul- \nchre. But by and by we find that Jesus Christ is buried \nin that sepulchre, and that he will come forth to comfort \nus ; and then all is changed, as it was for the Maries. \nWe shall find far better flowers springing from that grave \nof sorrow than any which we planted : they withered, but \nthese shall endure. Such flowers as peace, and hope, and \nfaith, and love, and joy in the Holy Ghost, \xe2\x80\x94 these are \neverlasting, these are immortelles ; and you always find \nthem upon a grave. Let us have these flowers in our gar- \nden, my brethren ; and then we need not mourn as those \nwithout hope, if the other flowers of domestic joy, and \ncomfort, and wealth, and honor, which we planted, wither \naway, or are plucked up by the roots. Only let us re- \nmember that there is a sepulchre in our garden, be it \nnever so fair, never so carefully planted. It is useless for \nus to try to make our Eden here on earth, where the \nmoth and rust doth corrupt, and where the blight of sin \nand sorrow must come. Be our road in life what it will, \nbe our garden bare or beautiful, be our life\'s journey \nrough or smooth, all alike end in a grave ; and it is use- \nless to shut our eyes to the fact. And there is nothing \ndreadful in the fact, after all : it is good for us that there \nis a sepulchre in our garden, and that our way of life \nends there at last. Prosperity often spoils a man, sorrow \n\n\n\n286 CHURCH READER FOR LENT, \n\noftener regenerates him. A world all flowers would \nenervate us, unfit us for bearing and doing great things ; \nbut every time we sit over against a sepulchre, and bury \nsome favorite sin, some too enticing desire, some too \nfondly cherished hope, we learn true manliness, true \nresignation to the inevitable will of God ; we learn that \nnoblest, hardest of lessons, " to keep silence, and know \nthat it is God ! " But, my brethren, that sepulchre in \nour garden of life must have Christ in it, or it will give \nus no comfort, no hope, no resurrection to better things. \nThis is what the apostle means by " bearing about in his \nbody the dying of the Lord Jesus. " We are too apt to \ndefer really deep thoughts about Christ, and his death for \nus, till our own death presses upon us ; but we are bidden \nto live daily unto Jesus, and to die daily unto sin, and to \ncarry about the memory and the meaning of our Saviour\'s \ndeath into all the occupations of our life. Will you try \nto do this ? Will you, at this most holy season, look care- \nfully into your gardens, your money garden, your home \ngarden, your pleasure garden, and re-model them ? Will \nyou lay them out in such a way that all your flowers in \nfuture may be planted round the sepulchre of Jesus ? In \nplain words, will you strive henceforth to consecrate your \nway of life, yourselves, your souls, your bodies, your \nhopes, your wishes, your money, your joys, your sor- \nrows, to the will of the risen Jesus ? Will you strive to \nbury your angry passions, your pride, your jealousy, in \nthe grave of Him who has conquered sin and death ? In \nyour daily life, when petty trials and vexations meet you, \nand annoy you, take them in prayer, and bury them in \n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN GRAVE. 287 \n\nthe grave of Jesus ; when your best-loved friends are \ntaken from you, and the shadow falls across your garden, \nand you see the sepulchre among the flowers, remember \nthat those dear ones are safe, buried in the grave of Jesus. \nWhen your rebellious feelings rise within you, when your \nduty is thrust aside by your own selfish wishes, take them \nand bury them deep in the holy sepulchre, and seal the \nstone with the signet of earnest repentance. And at last, \ndear brethren, the Easter-tide will come to your garden \\ \nthe sepulchre will open, and your joy will be full, your \nbest hopes more than realized, your greatest losses more \nthan compensated for : since, if we have been buried with \nhim, our Resurrection and our Life, we shall rise with \nhim, \xe2\x80\x94 rise to that land where there is no sepulchre, and \nwhere all tears are wiped away forever. \n\n\n\n^\xe2\x80\xa2, \n\n\n\n*C; \n\n\n\n*m \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\ni&Ci \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n^x \n\n\n\ns*W \n\n\n\n^ \n\n\n\nfj}> \n\n\n\nJi \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n:& \n\n\n\nt&Si \n\n\n\n>*5 J 1 \n\n\n\nOff \n\n\n\n;ra\xc2\xa5 \n\n\n\n\xe2\x82\xac \n\n\n\n^ \n\n\n\nM \n\nSS&/* \n\n\n\nw \n\n\n\nt \\ \n\n\n\n\n\n\n>i^ \n\n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2J \n\n\n\nASl \n\n\n\n\n\n\n*\xc2\xa7\xe2\x80\xa2 \n\n\n\nraw \n\n\n\na \n\n\n\n^/jc \n\n\n\nif \n\n\n\n/^! \n\n\n\n\xc2\xabsr* \n\n\n\nL^ \n\n\n\nLfi&te \n\n\n\n\n\n\npi \n\n\n\n?<<t \n\n\n\n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n'