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32X

E. I\. STA.FFORD. D,D,, LL.D

FHE NEED OF MINSTRELSY

AND OTHER SERMONS.

MEMORIAL VOLUME

0¥ THK LATE

REV. E. A. STAFFORD, D.D., LL.D.

WITH INTRODUCTION
By rev. D. G. SUTHERLAND, D.D., LL.B.

■ li
if

TORONTO :

WILLIAM BRIGGS,

Wesley Buildings.
MolfTRBilL : C. W. COATK8.

1892

Halifax : 8. F. Hubstib.

bX ^
5 vr

1993

EsTK.RKi), aec'ordiTi;; to Act ot the Farlianient of Canada, in the year one
thousand eiuht hundred and ninety-two, by VViLiiUM Briogs,
Toronto, in the Office of the Minister of Ay:riculture, at Ottawa.

INTRODUCTION.

Vf r HEN a man of marked individuality and of wide-
spread fame and influence passes away, tliere is
a laudable desire on the p;irt, not only of his friends, but
of the public generally, to possess some suitable and abid-
ing memorial of his life and labors. Such a man was the
Rev. Ezra A. Stafford, D.D., LL.D., and such a memorial
IS this volume of sermons intended to be.

Dr. Stafford had won to himself hosts of friends and
admirers, to whom )iis unexpected death was a cause of
deepest sorrow. This volume can by no means fill the
void, but amid the wearing processes of time will serve to
keep alive the thoughts and teaching of one who charmed
so many by his words. The task of selecting from amid
the mass of material left has been a difficult one. Some
of his most celebrated and characteristic sermons are not
fully written out, and had to be laid aside ; moreover,
the preacher was in the habit of introducing into those
more fully prepared living illustrations and modes of

i 1

';iii

INTRODUCTION.

expression, of which no record remains. One might also
as well seek to call back the fragrance of last year's
flower as attempt to depict in words the quaint but effec-
tive look and intonation which gave force and pungency
to his utterances. Nearly all the sermons, included in
this volume, however, were evidently favorites of the
author, and were preached in most of his leading appoint-
ments. Some have been specially asked for by friends.
From their perusal no doubt a very fair idea will be
obtained of the author's modes of thought. Portions of
them will come back to loving hearts like well-remem-
bered strains of music. No one will read them without
having a higher idea of his tender sympathy with human
woes, and his loving relations to Christ Jesus and all

mankind.

D G. S.

rht also
; year's
it effec-
ingency
ided in

of the
ippoint-
friends,

will be
ftions of
i-remem-
without
1 human

and all

CONTENTS.

Introduction

I. BlOORAPHICAI, NOTICK

H. The Need of Minstrelsy - . . .

" But now britifc me u minstrel. And it came to pass, when
the minstrel played, that the hand of the Lord came
upon him."— 2 Ki.vuh ill. !.'>.

in. Questioning God's Goodness . . . .

" And it shall come to pass at that time, that 1 will search
Jerusalem with candles, and punish the men that are
settled on their lees : that say in their heart, The Lord
will not do good, neither will he do evil.' — Zepu. i. 12.

IV. God's Agency in Evil

" And it shall come to pass at that time, that I will search
Jerusalem with candles, and punish the men that are
settled on their lees : that say in their heart, The Lord
will not do good, neither will he do evil."— Zki-h. i. 12.

V. The Mind of Christ

" Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus."—
PlIILIPPIANS ii. 5.

VI. In Christ Jesus --....

"Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature:
old things are passed away ; behold, all things are become
new."— 2 Corinthians v. 17.

PAOB

9
21

■m

1 '

■f ri

CONTENTS.

PA8K

VTI. A Man is Made by What He Thinks About- l().'i

" Think on these thinj,'H."— Piiimi'PIASs iv. 8.

VIII. The Single Eye, the Simple Intention- - IK^

" The li},'ht of the body is the eye; if, therefore, thine eye be
sinjjle, thy whole body shall be full of li^ht. Hiit if thine
eye be evil, thy whole body shall be fnll of darkness."—
Mattiikw vi. 22, 23.

IX. A Man is Acceptable to God if He Means to

Do Right 127

" For if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted accordint;
to that a man hath, and not accordinj? to that he hath
not."— 2 CoRiNTiiiANH viii. 12.

X. One Grave Defect

" Yet lackestthou one thinj?."— Lukk xviii. 22.

XI. Religious Capacity Lost by Neglect

" For unto every one that hath shall be ffiven, and he shall
have abundance : but from liim that hath not shall be
taken away even that which he hath."— Mattiikw xxv. 2$).

140

159

i !

XII. The Choice of Moses; or, The Best of Sin
vs. the Worst of Religion

" By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be
called the son of Pharaoh's daujrhter ; Choosinff rather to
suffer affliction with the peojjle of God, then to enjoy the
pleasures of sin for a season."— Hebrews xi. 24, 25.

XIII. Pre.sent Knowledge Defective

" For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when
that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part
shall be done away."-l Corinthians xiii. 9, 10.

XIV. Greater Things Promised to Faith

" Thou shalt see greater things than these."- John i. 50.

176

194

214

PAOK

DUT- l().'i

113

ye be

thiin'

S TO

rdiii-,'
hath

127

140

! shall
lall be
XV. 29.

? Sin

i to be
ther to
oy the

170

194

t when
in part

XV. Self-Denial

" Then said JesiiH unto his (liHcijiIes, Ff any man will r-onio
after nie, lot him deny liimself, and nke up hi« cross, and
follow me."— Matthew xvi. 24.

XVT. WixNiNo So(Ti.s

" lie that winneth souls is wise."— Phovrrhs xi. 30.

XVII. The Phauisek and Publican - . . .

"Gwl be merciful to me a sinner."— Likk xviii. 1.*}.

XVIII. Thanks for the Gift - . . .

"Thanks be unto (!ofl for His unspeakable Rift."— 2 Corin-
riiiAxs ix. 1,'j.

XIX. The Memory op the Just ....

" The memory of the just is blessed,"— Proverbs x. 7.

241

25G

273

285

Address before the General Conference of

the M. E. Church in the United States 298

ill

III-

lii

214

50.

C£

scl

Isc

pie

Po:

vil

son

dri

yoi

h\ iHrmnriam.

pZRA ADAMS STAFFOllD first saw the
light of (lay on a farm in the township of
Southwold, county of El<rin, in what was then
called Upper Canada, on the 9th of September, 1889.
He was one of a family of eleven r-hUdren, and there
was nothing in his early years to distinguish him
from other boys of his age. H-: went to spI.ooI, and
assisted every morning an.l evenin- in feeding the
cattle and horses, and in the sn!mrv3r time took his
fair share of work in the hay ana harvest fields.
That early experience was one of life's best training-
schools in habits of industry and adaptability.
Isolated as it was, it was not without its simple
pleasures. In days when railroads were unknown,
and the modern excursion unthought of, it was
quite an event in this farmer boy's life to drive to
Port Stanley on a load of grain, or to visit the adjacent
village on training-day, when the farmers and their
sons held their annual muster and received a slight
drill in military steps. At a very early period,
young Ezra showed that independence of spirit

(II r1

IN MEMORIAM.

I!i

which always characterized liiin. When sixteen
years of age he obtained a certiHcate to teach, and
soon afterwards was placed in chari^e of a district
school, beginning thus early to provide for his own
living and to influence and shape tne lives of others.
It was while teaching school, and in the twentieth
year of his age, that he passed through that reli-
gious experience which was the crisis of his life, and
the impulse to all the noble pursuits and attain-
ments, the toils and successes of later vears. It was
to him not only revelation, but revolution. In the
diary of the late Meredith Conn, the venerable
backwoods class-leader of sainted memory, is an ex-
tended reference to this important event, under the
date of Dec. 10th, 1859. The youn<x teacher had
been working for a short time in the Sabbath
School, and attending a few meetings of the class,
when he suddenly broke down under the conviction
of ofuilt an<l sin. He soujjht and found the know-
ledge of pardon and salvation. His leader impressed
upon him the duty of consecrating his talents to the
Lord, and urged him to prepare for the work of the
ministry. He was at length persuaded to officiate
in the absence of the pastor, and preached " two ex-
cellent sermons," one in the Union chapel, South-
wold, and the other in the chapel at Tyrconnel. Soon

IN MEMORIAM.

sixteen
ih, and
lUstrict
lis own
others,
entieth
I at reli-
ife, and
attain-
It was
In the
enerable
s an ex-
nder the
her had
Sabbath
le class,
nviction
e know-
npressed
s to the
k of the
officiate
two ex-
l, South-
3I. Soon

afterwards he is found aidin*,' the pastor in a pro-
tracted service, where " in the space of three weeks
forty sinners are converted to God."

In the year ISGO, he was admitted on probation
for the ministry of the Wesleyan Methodist Church,
and was ordained in 1864. Durinjjj that time he
spent one year at Victoria Colh^ge, where his mind
received a schohistic bent and inspiration which
awakened its noblest faculties and loftiest aspira-
tions. The tirst few years of his ministry were in
the western part of Ontaiio, where he was looked
upon as a youn^ man of wonderful gifts, destined
to occupy a higli place in the Church. It was n(;t,
however, until 1874, that he came prominently
before the public, when he received an appointment
to Dominion Square Church, Montreal, a position
which he afterwards held for a second term. Be-
tween these two terms he spent three years in
charge of the Dominion Metliodist Church at
Ottawa, where he obtained great fame and exercised
wide influence among the legislators of the land.

In 188.3 he was transferred to the city of Winni-
peg for two years, whence he came, in 1885, to
Toronto, serving there as pastor of the Metropolitan
and Sherbourne Street Churches successively — posi-
tions demandinjr the choicest talents and most

IN MEMORIAM.

earnest devotion to duty. His last charge was over
the Centenary Church, Hamilton, where, after a
brief service of five months, his bright spirit passed
home to receive its glorious reward.

During his ministerial career, he was the recipient
of many honors at the hands of his brethren. He
was elected President of the Montreal, Manitoba and
Toronto Conferences respectively, and was five times
a member of the General Conference of the Methodist
Church. His voice was frecjuently heard in the
discussion of most important (juestions. In 1886 he
was appointed to the honorable post of repre-
senting Canadian Methodism before the General
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church of
the United States. This position he filled to the
great satisfaction of all parties. His address before
the immense gathering in the Metropolitan Opera
House received great praise from men highly dis-
tinguished for their public success. The occasion
was a trying one, but the speaker rose to its de-
mands. Nor were schola.stic honors wanting in his
career. He took in course at Victoria University
the degrees of Bachelor of Arts and of Laws, and he
was also honored with the Doctorate in Divinity. In
1886 he received, after examination before his Alma
Mater, the degree of Doctor of Laws.

IN MEMORIAM.

ras over
after a
b passed

ecipient
en. He
boba and
ve times
ethodist
I in the

1886 he
f repre-

General
lurch of
to the
3S before
in Opera

hly dis-

occasion
its de-

Ing in nis

his
diversity
and he
lity. In
is Alma

Dr. Stafford was always a close and diligent
student. His mind was of a keen, enquiring turn,
eagerly entering into all fields of knowledge. He
early learned to think for himself. He would
not bow to any idol the world of philosophy or
theology had set up, or accept any creed or dogma
simply because his text-books taught it. It is pos-
sible that at times he went to extremes in asserting
his independence of thought. He had a hatred of
shams and an inveterate dislike to ruts. This
Vjrought from him many a keen shaft of wit and
much quiet, good-natured sarcasm. His public dis-
courses and private conversations were marked by
a freshness and originality that were the delight of
young and old, of students and men of the world.
The quaintness of his illustrations and constant
reference to the common events of life were attrac-
tive to both saint and sinner. He made the whole
world of nature and of men tributary to his work.
This was manifest even in life's closing hours. Some
flowers having been laid upon his bed, he picked up
one and soliloquized, " The fragrance of a flower —
the fragrance of a life — the fragrance of Christ's life!"

The natural kindness and tenderness of his heart
won many to him. His sympathies were quickly
aroused, and he was in touch with the brotherhood

■M

IN MEMOUIAM.

of men. ' He was an earnest, true and sincere
friend," writes an associate of many years, "incap-
able of doini; anythinjT but what was high and noble."

Beside the attachment of many valued friends, he
twice won to himself the love and life of woman to
brighten his home and gladden his toils. His first
wife. Miss Eliza H. Hurl hurt, daughter of Rev.
Thomas Hurlburt, was taken to the better world in
1875. His second wife. Miss Caroline C. Baird, of
Montreal, was united to him in 187(), and had the
melancholy satisfaction of helping to soothe his
sufferinL!S in his last painful illness. A son and a
daughter by the tirst union, and a son by the second,
deeply mourn the loss of a loving father.

A fuller idea of his character may be gathered from
the eloquent words of John W. Dowd, Esq., at the
memorial service in the Sherbourne Street Church,
Toronto, and other intimate friends:

" Dr. Stafford was unique. His personality was
all his own. He was himself, and always refused
to be the copy of anybody else. He had no rever-
ence for authority that would not bear the search-
liofhts of investigation. He laid all sources of
knowledge under tribute. He was greedy of know-
ing. He challenged everything, but tenaciously and
reverently held fast to what he believed to be good.

IN MEMOUIAM.

1 sincere
, " ineap-
id noble."
•lends, he
voman to
His first
cif Rev.
world in
Baird, of
1 had the
oothe his
5on and a
le second,

ered from
q., at the
Church,

allty was
s refused
no rever-
e search -
purees of
of know-
ously and
be good.

1 There was no pretence In his nature. He was sim-

1 plicity itself. He hated shams and humbus^s with

la holy hatred. I do not believe he ever consciously

did a mean act, and I never knew him to be angry

•except at the meanness of otliers. With him there

Jwas no assumption of superiority or perfection. He

'■as full of charity for the man who made mistakes,

llevidently believing that the man who made no mis-

Itakes never made anything. While his words were

I hot and scorching for the man who did wrong —

J in tending to do wrong — his sympathy was as broad

las human needs and as deep as human misery.

iHe would feed a tramp, beguile from him his story,

jand thus learn a lesson to teach his fellow-man. He

Iwould lift the drunkard from the cfutter, and with

Ihis arm placed kindly about him endeavor to steady

|his feet to walk the way of life.

" To listen to his teaching — for his preaching was
^Iways teaching — was in itself an education. It
'as the delight of his life to solve difficulties, and
Jnake dark things plain to his people. He was no
|)racle. He did not pretend to know ; but when he
'as sure, he was a great persuader of men.

** Who that ever heard can forget his prayers. They
vere sacred poems lifting the worshippers up
ihrough the shining stars to the very gates of the

IN MEMOKIAM.

celestial city. Those prayers were a great revealer
of the man.

" How plain and simple was his last Sunday at
Sherbourne Street; and how touching his last request
for remembrance : ' When you lift your eyes to the
friendly stars, will you sometimes think of me ! ' "

His friend, Mr. John Donagh, writes of him : " Hf
had a keen sense of humor, and couid always see,
and seldom could resist the temptation to present the
funny side of thw subject of conversation. He was
a master of sarcasm, and was marvellously tiuent in
the use of quaint and striking phrases. He often
illustrated his sermons with what might be called a
novelette, and had the art of a Dickens in clothing
his characters with Hesh and blood, and making
them speak the truths he wished to convey.

" He loved to present the Lord Jesus as ' the one
who was tempted in all points like as we are,' and
who ' is touched with the feelins: of our infirmi-
ties.' To his view, God was always the loving
Father, holding the door of mercy wide open and
standinof with outstretched arms to welcome the
returning sinner."

The Rev. Dr. Withrow. in the Methodist Maga-
zine, writes of hirn : " The great religious, social and
economic questions of the times throbbed in his

IN ME MORI AM.

t re veal er

)unday at
ist request

yes to the

ft » "
me !

him : " He

ilways see,

)resent the

"breast and brain. He felt a keen sympathy with the

toiling masses. He often spoke of the dislocated

relations of society, and hoped and labored for its

xe-organization on the basis of the golden rule. He

jbelieved that much of the sin, and suffering and sor-

|row, on which the pitying eye of God looks down,

ivas largely the result of physical environment."

I His sympathy overleaped denominational barriers.

|Ie longed for the union of Christian bodies imder

1 He was t^® stamlard of Christian charity and liberty. " It

V tluent in h^^ always been ray ambition," he said, a few hours

He often |>efore death, " to have the same love in my heart as

be called a i|rought the Saviour from such a distance to die for

in clothino- tae. I have had a measure of that love, and conse-

id makin*^ fuently I feel enmity to no one. That love has made

^,y Everything pure to me." He was an earnest pro-

ts ' the one jioter of the union of the various Methodist bodies in

e are' and panada, and aided much in arranging the basis of

ir infirmi- 4nion.

the lovim? Had time and opportunity been given him, he

open and would have become a successful worker in the

Icome the literary world. He has left behind him tokens of

his skill in his published articles on " Voltaire and

ist Maga John Wesley " ; " Robert Elsmere " ; " My Friend,

social and %e Tramp " ; " The Indebtedness of Christianity

led in his ^ Free Thought"; The Unchurched Masses";

I : :

IN MKMORIAM.

"The Common Parenta<j;e of the Human Race " ; in
his lectures on " Inciividuality in Woman"; "The
Universal Boy"; " JViodes of Culture Out of
School "; " Get Your Money's Worth " ; in his essay
on " Eccle.siastical Law " ; in his book of poems
entitled, " Recreations " ; and in his works, " The
Guidinfr Hand," dealing with the subject of Divine
Guidance ; and " The United Church."

His last illness was comparatively short, and his
end came unexpectedly. For months he had suffered
from periodical pains in the head, but the cause of
his death could not be determined until a post-mor-
tem examinati(m revealed tlie existence of a lar^e
tumor in the brain. In spite of cerebral pain and
failing strength, he contmued his pulpit work until
within five weeks of his decease. His will-power
often sustained him and compelled him to face
heavy tasks, when his phj'sical system was crying |
out for rest. A trip to the Bahama Islands for rest |
and change was planned, but it was not to be.
Physical weakness drove him to his bed ; yet while i
sufficient strength remained he delighted in the
visits of friends, and thev were welcomed with the
old familiar smile and pleasant words. As he I
recognizer! the approaching shadows of death he I
gave no sign of shrinking. Looking up with a smile

at
bri
th(
for;

int(

veri

IN MEMORIAM.

e " ; in
; " The
3ut of
is essay

poems
S "The

Divine

and his

sutlered

cause of

lost-mor-

a large
^ain and
rk until

I -power

to face
IS cryino-

for rest
)t to be.

et while
a in the

with the
As he

death he

h a smile

jf.

of pleasure after the readinof of the twenty-tliird
Psalm, he said, " That is <;ood ; I am ?;oing to dwell
in my Father's house." His gentleness under suffer-
ing was very touching, and his natural playfulness
re])eatedly asserted itself. His mind was kept in
perfect peace. Once, after hearing " Jesus, Lover of
My Soul " sung, he remarked, " That is all I have
tc depend upon," and enlarged upon the heauty and
richness of the hymn, and upon the tender love of
Christ. When that other familiar hymn of
Toplady's, " Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me," was sung,
he cried, " VV^hat a reality that is to me !"

He was specially fond of the hymn, " All hail the
power of Jesus' name," and when it was being sung
shortly before his death he joined in the song, and
at the last verse his face partook of almost unearthly
brightness as he cried, " Oh, if you could only see
the rapture that I see!" The scene will never be
forgotten by tliose that stood by.

There is something very touching in his last
intelligent act. Taking a pencil in his weak fingers
he began to write a few words to his con£rreL''ation
on the blank pages of a book. The letters were
very trembling and are read with difficulty. So far
as they can be made out they read thus : " My
Vjeloved people, my thoughts have been that I might
think eminently suitable."

IN MEMORIAL.

On Monday, December 21.st, 1801, Ezra A Stafford,
the adtiiired and beloved of thousands, " fell asleep
in .Jesus," at tlie age of 52. A solemn memorial
service was held at the Centenary Church, Hamilton,
on December 24'th, attended l)y a lari^e gathering of
friends and brethren in the ministry. And by
re({uest a funeral sermon was preached by the writer,
as chairman of the Hamilton District, on the follow-
ing Sunday evening. A similar memorial service
was also held at Sherbourne Street Church, Toronto,
and another at the Dominion Si^uare Chuich, Aiont-
real, whither the body was taken for interment,
and in whose God's-acre it now lies awaiting the
dawning of the resurrection morn.

We close with a brief extract from Mr. J. W.

B(^n<xouirh's beautiful tribute to his memory: —

" A SaUbiitli sunlight round the t^ll, lithe form,
Which shrined a soul wide as the human race,
That looketl abroad with sad and gentle eyes,
Anon with humor kindling, yet which flashed
At times the lightning of a righteous wrath ;
And spoke, tlirough li[)s tliat wore a genial smile,
The homely phrase that sent an old, old truth
Upon its errand, looking almost new.

Bereaved Methodism kneels and weeps

At St I fiord's tomb, but not in solitude.

Besid ' her all her sister churches bend ;

Creeds count for nought ; this plain dead preacher here

Was great enough to love and reverence each.

And so is mourned by all."

D. G.&

bafford,
asleep
gujorial
niilton,
jring of
Vnd by
writer,
t'ollow-
service
roronto,
1, Aiont-
berment,
bing the

J. W.

ile,

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY

;her here

•'Now bring me a minstrel. And it c^anie to pass when the
iiiinatrel played, that the hand of the Lord (;aine upon him."
2 Kings iii. 15.

THREE kings were with their armies in a region
where there was no water. They could do
nothing. War was out of the (juestion. They
were already vanquished, before a blow was struck,
if rehef in this particular were not secured. The
best man amonfj them turned their thou^jhts to the
Lord, as their only hope. So the three kings went
down together to li^lisha, the prophet of the Lord.
They found the prophet, but he was not in the spirit
of his highest work. Either because of the badness
of two of the kings especially, who had come to
consult him, or from some cause in himself or sur-
roun<lings(of this we can have no certain knowdedge),
he was not prepared at once with that elevated
spirit of foresight, wdiich would enable him to min-
ister suitably to the occasion. So he asked that a
min.strel be called, and while he played he felt the
hand of the Lord come upon him.

Probably his unreadiness was due to the fact that

G.&

THK NKED OF MINSTRELSY.

prophecies were nfenerally put in the form of poetry,
and the minstrel 'h music cnahled him the more
easily to fall into the rude measure which the
prophets jjenerally employed. In the same way
Moses, and Miriam, and Nathan, an<l Elijah, and
David, and Isaiali, and Jeremiali, burst out into
proplietic lanu;uaf:je only at certain times, not
always; and that was when the prophetic rapture
took possession of their souls.

We are not at present interested in the prophec}'
Elisha uttered on this occasion. The kinj^s and
their armies received an abundant supply of water
and returned victorious.

That to which we wish now to turn your thouf^hts,
is the need of minstrelsy in the case of Elisha, to
prepare him for the highest form of service to God
and men ; and from this by an easy step we pass
to the fact tliat vA\ good men sometimes jjet out of
the spirit of their true work for God. There arc
times when they are not ready to enter upon the
highest forms of service to God and men. We
will now examine :

I. The causes why Christian people sometimes
are not in the spirit of true Christian labor.

II. What minstrelsy is needful to bring upon
them again the hand of the Lord.

L. The causes.

1. One cause of this declension in power may be
bad health. Sickness may always claim the sup-
porting grace of God, and always gets it when it is

'tl

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY,

.f poetry, «
the more
hich the
line way
ijah, and
out into
[lies, not
c rapture

prophecy

:in^s an<l

of water

thou fights,
Elisha, to
ice to God
we pass
o-et out of
'liere arc
upon the
men. We

sometimes

)r.

•ing upon

er may be
the sup-
when it is

asked ; Imt all the same, the f^^reat surj^dntj waves of
pain that attend some conditions of the bo<ly, or
the sunken weariness of aimless existence that men
feel at other times when their enerj^ies are ex-
hausted, is favorable nuithcr to high emotion, nor to
earnest endeavor.

Above all a condition of half health and half sick-
ness, attended with great nervous irritability, will
give a person a most unsatisfactory religious exj^eri-
ence. He will seem to ha/e shown temper when
his reason and feeling both tell him tliat he is
not angry. His performance of duty seems to reach
so low a standard that he grows morbid in stdf-
repro.ch. He is uidiappy within himself, and
l)evond doubt he is out of tune for the hi<diest form
of Christian duty.

And this is the condition the year through, of
many men of business who spend so many hours
in an office where the sun never shone, that they
themselves forixet how to shine. The objects therein
are printed on their minds as a hideous nightmare,
and ledgers, and charts, and chairs and desks, know
their thouiTfhts better than anvthinix else on earth.

This is the state of very many excellent women
whose motherhood commands so much of their
attention that they forget how once their life did,
and might again, prove waruith and benediction
to all they touch.

The minstrelsy he needs is thorough rest and
change. If possible let him go where breezes mur-

;

! .'.'f I ' ' "i.^

THE NEKD OF MINSTRELSY.

mur, and brooks gurgle, and waves dash, and birds
sing, and listen to the great anthem of the world's
unwritten music, and bathe in undiluted, undetiled
sunshine; let him forget for a time that his church
has any work to perform, and even that other men
have souls to save, and feel the relaxation that comes
from knowing that God allows him to be just natur-
alh' simply happy, then the hand of the Lord would
come upon him and he would return to his church
and labor for God with happiness to himself and
blessing to all.

2. Another cause of this decline in power is other
people's influence upon us. 1 stood last summer
charmed and enchained for a long time at a place
on the seashore, where a great cave had been cut
out, and it swept around in a fair semi-circular
form, and in all its extent there rose up, receding
back like the ascending rows of seats in an amphi-
theatre, a gentle slope from low tide mark to the
top a hundred feet or more. When 1 stood there
the tide was coming in, and the sea was high, and
the waves swept like a great stroke of almighty
power clear up to the highest line. Then as they
receded, and laid the beautiful slope bare for seventy
feet down, more than a million stones from the
size of an acorn and upwards were jostled against
each other and went hurrying down with a rattling
noise as of a hundred hail storms all in one, each
greater than the trieatest I ever witncooed. Every
one of those stones was polished to its highest

THE KEED OF MINSTRELSY.

,nd birds
3 world's
undetiled
is? church
ther men
lat comes
ist natur-
rd woul<l
is church
nselt* and

r is other
summer
it a place
been cut
li-circular
, receding
n amphi-
Lrk to the
)od there
I'vj-h, and
alndi^dity
1 as they
r seventy
rom the
d aiiainst
rattling
one, each
Every
highest

■•■41

fl capacity. There was not a sharp corner to be
found on one of them. Standing there I thought
I in how small a degree any person tletermines the
I form or style of his own character. "The world is
I HO full of other folks."

" I am ! How little more 1 know !" We main-

^tain an identity because we are born singly and

^must die alone; business and social life and church

^intluences lift and whirl and toss us, and wear upon

ius, and men throw themselv(^s amiinst evervthinjjf

Jin us that is peculiar and distinctive, and try to

gbreak it up, and it is only the life in us that keeps

us from falling into a dull, monotonous uniformity

ilike the stones on the beach ; for I n(>ticed that thev

iwere almost all oval in circumference and somewhat

flattened. And so men get somewhat tlat if they

Ido not resist the moulding influence of society.

Now, is it remarkable that a man's relijxious lite

^should be much affected by other ])eople ? Most

eople are not like Christ. They are not spiritual

^fin ndnd. I do not say that most people do not go

o church, or that they xww not members of the

Ijhurcli. But there \\V(\ many who are mend)ers of

hni'clies l)ecause it is fasliionable nrid respectable.

i^'or the same reason in Turkey, they would be

iMohammedans ; in India, Buddhists; in China, they

ould follow Confucius. They are not Christians

Jilirough love of Christ. They do not like a religion

ith an}' cross in it, that teaches the duty of

elf-denial, except of those things which, if they

I'-T-

THE NEED OF MINSTHEUSV.

fsliouM do, they woulil have to go to jail, or that
does not think better of sin if it bears an inoffensive
name, and if it dresses well, and is polite, and lives
in a grand house in expensive style. In short, their
religion is an effort to get to heaven on thequalifica
tion of worldly respectability. The easy religion,
which denies its professor no pleasure, will han^
before his eye as a very beautiful picture, appealini;
to every selfish element in his nature, which at any
time he keeps under restraint only by great watch-
fulness. Now, whenever any person is trying, likt-
Elisha, to do true work for God, to be a spiritual
working Christian, he will find his zeal depressed In-
contact with Christians of this worhlly stamp. Per-
haps his earnestness will be called hypocrisy. Hi>
motives will probably be misrepresented, or at least
they will he misunderstood.

If he is a poor man his character will be con-
stantly affected b}' other people's vaunting display
of their wealth, and he will be stung by the worldV
habit of estimating manhood by its ability to brini.'
togetlier and invest money. Above all, the pomp of
nuujbers, the stateliness of the multitude, bewilder-
the imagination of men generally.

And so, without knowinc: it, without intendinir it
one whom God has admitted to much hidden know
ledge through deep and blessed experiences, fin(l>
that insensibly his spiritual fervor is depressed. Ht
cannot go forward in the highest duties of his Chris
tian profession as he once could. Like Elisha, lit
needs a minstrel.

w
'>Fo

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

a\, or that
inoffensive
3, and lives
short, their
leqnalificfi-
^y religion,
, will hanu
}, appealini;
hich at any
reat watch-
tryin;:^, like
a spiritual
iepressed by
«tainp. Per-
ocrisy. His
1, or at least

A^ill be con-

nrf display

the world^

ty to brin^

the pomp »)'

e, i)evvildcr^

mtendinjj; it
i.lden know
K'nces, tiii'!-
iressed. H'
of his Chri^
e Elisha, li

3. Another cause of the loss of power is ne^rlect
f scriptural doctrine. Much has been said from
Jinany standpoints in discussing the beliefs of men.
'or the present I need but a sin<(le point, that a

an's conduct is determined by what he believes.
■ ^ . . .

■Jf you believe that a man will lie, you will not re-
pose any trust in him. You will not do any business
"with him where anything has to be trusted to his
word. This law, which prevails in the commonest
business, holds also when you rise to the plane of a
' man's religious nature.

What a person believes will determine what he
;d()es. If, therefore, one loses confidence in the truths
iwhich made him an earnest Christian worker, he will
lOon cease to be fit for his duties, and like Elisha,
ill have need of a minstrel.

Now I will not say, as a good many newspapers
o, that the <i</e has outgrown all old Christian
doctrine. I will not say this, because I can't
persuade myself that a small circle of men in
each city, representing not one-five-hundredth part
of the population, and an occasional man in country
places, really make the age. I know that circles of
60-called free-thinkers arroijate to themselves all
the learning there is, and are not just enough to
admit that any other men know anything to speak
of. I can not admit that any just admeasure-
|iient of society will show that these few peo[>le are
xhe whole of our age. Other men do know some-
thing and think somewhat. The overwhelming

.< I

i '!

THE NEED OP MINSTRELSY.

millions deserve to be recognized as something more
than merely a contingent remainder. Not can I see
that secular editors, who, if true to their business,
must read chiefly the street and other newspapers,
are the best judges of the value of Christian
doctrine.

But every one must admit, that certain currents
can be traced in society, which when they strike
a youthful person of unformed character, will in-
cline him to think that the doctrines his father
believed are unsuited to our time. Then no matter
what blessed experiences he may have had of th«'
inner life of faith and prayer, as he gives up one
doctrine after another he will feel a growing unfit-
ness for real spiritual work for God. He will need
a minstrel.

I stand upon the principle that for safety and
for real usefulness in life, it is much better to
believe too much than too little. Allow me a very
simple illustration : A few weeks ago I tilled an
engagement in the eastern townships. I saluted in
the distance the royal form of jjrand old Mount
Orford, passed under the shadow of Shefford moun-
tain, and slept where wide Yamaska allowed no
western wind to blow, and saw Owl's Head dark
against the blue clear sky. As a gentleman drove me
from the station to his home, I noticed that the
shafts of his vehicle had a double fastening to the
axle, not only the usual bolt, but a leather straj)
also. He told me that among the hills every pre-

''as

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

ing more
can I see
business,
tvspapers,
Christian

currents
ley strike
, will in-
ns father
no matter
lad of the
es up one
dng unfit-
; will need

afety and
better to
me a very
filled an
saluted in
)ld Mount
ord moun-
llowed no
lead dark
II drove iw
i that the
\m^ to the
ther strap
every pre-

caution was necessary to guard against accident. If
Ithe bolt slipped, the strap would hold until the
|vehicle could be stopped and danger averted. And
^ learned that often even a third protection was
ised, a chain from the doubletree to the axle of
the waggon. Now, my drive of six miles and
[eturn was made in perfect safety, and with most
fleasant memories I left that smiling home hidden
tmong the hills. In my experience none of the
ixtra precautions were needed.
Last Tuesday atternoon I started on an engagement
|n a different direction into the level country beyond
laprairie, to the south and west. There was a stage
fide of sixteen miles after six in the evening, and it
as intensely dark. Our progress was slow, and
ibout ten o'clock the driver befjan to cry out franti-
illy to his team to stop. The waggon dashed to one
ide, and before we could realize what was wrong,
le wheels on one side were in a ditch two feet
Jeep, and the waggon with its living freight turned
lirly over among the small trees. Fortunately no
le was injured. We crawled out in the darkness
id in the mud and rain, all enquiring what was
ronof, and all ae:reein<:f that a wheel had come ott*.
(ut when at last we got a light, it was found that
►thing was wrong, but simply one of the bolts
istening the pole to the axle had escaped and
Lused all the mischief and endangered six lives !
[ow, a little strap like that I saw among the hills
[ould have prevented all the trouble. It would

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

liavc kept the wa^gcjn straight in the road until it
could have been stopped. But then in that levei
country, why take any precautions ?

Here is to my uiind a true view of the value of
doctrine to a reli<jious life. It is better to have
precautions not needed than to fall into danger
for want of them. It is better to believe too much
than too little. A person begins a Christian life in
membership with the church, private prayer, attend-
ing prayer-meetings and meetings for religious
fellowships. He feels that he is walking a moun-
tainous road full of dangers, and needs all precau-
tions like the driver amon<; the hills out in the
townships. He is taken by one of the currents I
spoke of. He gets rid of the doctrine of eternal
punishment.

Mount Orford is removed from his world. In its
place is a plain. Atonement in blood is d'smissed
from among the doctrines he believes. Yamaska is
now sunk to a plain. He dilutes the inspiration of
the Scriptures until all authority is gone from the
books. Now Mount She I lord has di.-appeareil, and
so pretty soon he is in a great plain like that at
Laprairie and beyond where I was last week, where
no precautions are necessary because there are no
hills. With the doctrines lemoved out of his faith
his conduct chaiiges. He needs no prayer-meeting,
no Christian fellowship now. He thinks he hears
some rationalizing preacher say that great minds are
living in an atmosphere of prayer, as long as they

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

>H "

desire to know more of God and His will, and (it is
rather flatterinjif to liitn to do so), he believes it, and
then neither his evening lamp nor the morning sun
ever sees him on his knees any more. He becomes
{psthetic, he goes to church twice on Sunday, and
that is his religion. He has thinned out his doctrines,
taken oft' his precautions and diluted his practice.
He is not in a condition for the highest Christian
work. He needs a minstrel.

When last Tuesday there was only one bolt to our
carriage, it failed and we went into the ditch in the
dark night. When a man has removed faith in
scriptural doctrines out of his heart, there is just one
l)olt that hokls him from danger, that is the uncer-
tain life of his body. When that gives away, as
with our carriage, he will go into a ditch in the
darkness. I know not how deep it may be, but I
know it is what the Bible calls hell !

H. The first thing necessary to regain this lost
power is the believing and prayeiful study of God's
Word. There is nothing in the world that so separ-
ates a man from the mass and stamps him with his
own true individuality. Here we see Noah and
Jesus each in his own time standing; an^ainst the
whole world ; Moses and Elijah and Daniel at dif-
ferent })eriods standing alone, with the king and
the whole nation against their single-handed power;
but God, the Lord, was with them. We see Paul
undismayed by the contempt of all tlie learning of
Athens. And then its form of address is calculated

1 !

! i

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

to make a man feel that he has a separate responsi-
bility of his own complete in itself. " To him there-
fore that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not,
to him it is sin." — (Jas. iv. 17.) There is nothing
general here. Tliere is no letting a man down
from his high standard because others do not live
up to that standard. Daniel in Babylon might
.say, " All around me regard the king as supreme,
I alone pray to the true God. Why should I not
be content to be as good as others are ! " But
if Daniel does say that, he falls and God is no
longer with him. But if Daniel is faithful against
a world, even lions' mouths shall be kept from him.

And so the teaching of all the Bible causes one to
feel that his sin is his own and no one's else. And
so is his virtue. If he builds up truth, purity and
love in his heart, it is something wholly his own.
No one can ever take it from him. Now, this teach-
ing will save a man from being borne down by the
influence and example of others.

Another needful thing is a regular habit of
secret devotion. The hand of the Lord does come
upon men when they are alone with God in prayer.
It was so with Elijah on Carmel ; with Hezekiah
in his sickness ; with Daniel when in danger ; and
with the great and good of all ages, churches and
nations. We often hear a plausible statement that
prayer is elevation of soul and communion with
God, and not external forms. But it is and always
has been a fact, that those souls most effectually

THE NEED OF MINSTRELSY.

!ti

retain their elevation and eoniniunion with God,
wlio most regularly observe the outward forms ot*
relii^ion, that is, of course, if they do it undcrstand-
in<,dy. A condition of spiritual deadness is more
likely to disappear when a person habitually devotes
himself to secret interviews with God, than if ho
trusts to chances to find amid social and business
duties spare moments for reflection. The ijrandest
pictures have a frame. The picture is worth a thou-
sand dollars, the frame only a few dollars; and yet
no artist would exhibit a picture without a frame.
So it is with the forms of religion. They are worth
little compared to the true and fervent spirit, yet
they are necessary to that spirit. And our souls
will become empty, withered and dead if we neglect
them.

11 i

iiiil

^V
I i I

QUESTIONING GOD'S GOODNESS.

" It shall come to pass at that time, that I will search Jerusalem
with candles, and punish the men that are settled on their lees ;
that say in their heart, The Lord will not do good, neither will He
doevil."— Zei'H. i. li'.

THIS languaf^e describes a certain class of scien-
tific men — the Pantheists — who thoroughly
believe that nature is subject to a vn'i^n of law, but
do not believe much of anything else. They are
willing enough to admit that there is a God, if you
will admit that He never interferes with the world
He has made. Such persons certainly say that the
Lord does not do good, neither does He do evil. I
have no further mention to make of these teachers.

I am thinking of another cla^s which these w^ords
describe. They are persons who have lost their in-
terest in religion, and have no expectation that any
good will come from it, while at the same time they
do not fear that it will do any harm. They have
sunk into a condition of indifference concerning it.

But it is not an uncommon thing for a young man
to be in this condition in relation to religion, while
he is thoroughly alive and in sympathy with his

1
^1

times

man n

concer

he for^

pathiej

which

irreligi

becausi

these r

is rr i-ac

tiau efl

young

religior

The

equally

lees.

earthly

and are

"curdle

for a til

not mo

any ne\

The
enthusi^
lives,
they ooi
asleep,
neither
All t:

when h

QUESTIONING GOD S GOODNESS.

times in everythinjjj else. At any period of life a
man may settle upon tlie lees, so far as reli<^non is
concerned, by simple neglect. He abandons prayer,
he forgets the Bible, he sets no guard over his sym-
pathies, and pays no attention to the direction in
which they run, he is intimately associated with
irreligious men, in business, and in social life, wliile
because of their position, he esteems the words of
these men at more than their true merit ; and so he
is gradually led to drop out of one path of Chris-
tian effort after another, and the final result is a
young man on the lees. He expects nothing from
religion, and has lost all enthusiasm for its success.

The lanfjuage used to describe their state is
equally suggestive. They are men " settled on their
lees." Now we know that the heavier parts, the
earthly particles in any liquid, settle to the bottom,
and are called lees. In the margin it is rendered
" curdled, or thickened." Some fluids, after standing
for a time, curdle, or become thick, and after that do
not move easily, or readily fall into the shape of
any new dish into which they are put.

The evil and danger of such a condition is that all
enthusiasm, all expectation, has gone out of their
lives. They are heavy themselves, and unconsciously
they oome to feel in their hearts that God also i.s
asleep. They think that He will not do good,
neither will He do evil.

All the charm of living is lost to a true Picn
when he has no longer any expectation, when he

' !

! it

QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

ceases to see Ood mov in<; everywliere, and to look
out for some evidence every hour that His hand is
niovini,' great currents all up and down society, and
thrashing the nations into the mould of His own
thought.

When a person, either old or young, finds himself
losing interest in the life of his time, he may be
assured that the cause is in himself. It may be due
to the weight of years, or to a premature decay of
his faculties, because he has worked too hard, or has
let his life flow out too fast in pleasure. Mental
idleness will produce the same result. Every one
knows that men change with age. Any observer of
human nature has noticed that with passing years
men jjrow conservative in all their habits of thoui^ht.
Even politics is not an exception to this rule, if we
are to believe the histories of former times.

This firrowinfj conservatism is not because things
have so improved as to approximate perfection since
these same men were young ; for the tendency is
noticed to have been just the same in men when
there was every evidence that things were becoming
worse all the time. The change is in the man him-
self. It is simply a growing dislike of the effort
and exertion necessary id adapt one's self to new
and changed circumstrmces, just as in the case of a
thickened liquor. This is a natural effect, from the
process of growing old. An aged person is raised
high above all blame or ridicule on account of his
satisfaction with things just as they are. This con-

■-3

■ H ■

questioning; gods (joodness.

:i7

(lition will come to all soon or late ; the only tliinu: to
1)0 tboiii^lit of is to keep this time of thickeninLj as
far in the distance as possible. It should not he
allowed to force itself upon us sooner than needs he;
we should not welcome it in at the door, or run out
into the street to meet it. Scarcely anythini^ is
more melancholy and depressing than a youn<^^ man
ahout sixty years of a^^e, who was l)orn, say thirty-
five or forty years ago, and who thinks that every-
thing as it was a century since was better than it is
to-dav. I remember a man of this kind who
|)reached in my pulpit once, and in the sermon,
among other echoes from the graveyard, he referred
to "that thing which is called love now-a-days."
When we were walking from the church, I recovered
from my sadness Bufficiently to ask him what evi-
dence he had of any great change in the (quality of
that precious article called love, since he and I made
fools of ourselves on account of it ? By what plea
could he at forty years of age, justify himself for
going around bewailing the degeneracy of the
times ? He ought to wait at least a few years.
People in such a condition, whether old or young,
want religion to be both very respectable and very
respectful. It should respect a man's worldly posi-
tion, and arrange things pretty lively for low
people, but should discriminate in favor of those
who have thrashed the world into a recognition of
their importance. It should never intrude into pri-
vate affairs, so as to invade that region in which the

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QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

conscience is supposed to dwell. Such people never
want to see or liear anythin<^ different from the
usual monotony to which they are accustomed.
Let no awakenincj or disturbinj^ element have any
place.

Any approach to a revival disturbs them greatly.
Under such circumstances they must lift themselves,
and fight in the best sense, or else run in the worst ;
and the idea of having to move around, and pos-
sil)ly to shout, and then to stand rubbing their fast-
stiffening joints and muscles, after having been sur-
prised into an unusual lively movement, seems a
grave contradiction to all proprieties. The conse-
quence is that these curdled people see nothing in an
effort to arouse the world to a sense of its danger
and need but extravascance, and therefore thev favor
it with their sweeping condenmation. There may
be conversions that lead thieves to return plunder
to the owners, offering not only contrition but resti-
tution, and that may turn husbands, formerly
drunken, homeward to lonely and heart-hungry
wives, with bread in their hands and peace in their
hearts : but all these jjood fruits are lost siirht of in
the sfeneral discomfort caused bv a ijracious work of
revival. Thickened men settled on the lees cannot
abide such things. Then to be called out to earnest,
personal elfort, by ^motives which they either must
obey or feel intensely uncomfortable, is too much
altogether. To turn aside from their hard-l)eaten
path to speak a warning to the erring, to win a soul

(,)UF.STIONI\G CODS (iOODNESS.

from its sin, to tell the wvay of pecace throni,4i faith
ill Jesus Christ to the lost wanderer, that one step
is the grasshopper which is beginnin^j to he a
1)11 nlen.

To such a state of mind, any chan^^e in the ser-
vici.' to make it more helpful to some classes of
minds, so that it may better lead a refined taste,
or eiicouraire a diffident spirit to ijreater confidence,
or impart more streni^th to the weak and the simple,
is an inadmissible irrepjularity. Any attempt after
better methods will require so much liftinix of the
feet, and shifting of the chair, and getting around in
<Teneral, before one will know just where he is, that
the man who is on the lees will see insurmountable
obstacles in the way of every new work.

One good thing may be said about men in this
condition — they do not renounce their faith, they
are sure to be orthodox, and their high morality is
almost as good as assured for a life-time. They so
dread exertion that they will not put forth the
effort necessary to any great act of immorality.
They would hardly spend the breath necessary to
swear, if an entirely new order of things should be
forced upon the community.

Now this d-'generacy of unsympathetic inaction
is one of the natural tendencies of our nature,
against which W3 should be on our guard. How to
Jivoid it is worthy of much thought and effort.

1. One remedy is to remember that (Jod nas never
yet allowed the world to stand still. \V<! turn our

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QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

fac(3s toward the past, with our hand to our ear,
that we may catch the echoes that come up from
those weary days of darkness; but we liear not tlie
onward movement, as we may hear the startlinr,^
tliunder, like armed chariots movinix forth to war.
We listen to the present, but in the crowd in<^,
tram])linrr multitudes, we hear nothing that is a
positive assurance of progress. Nor can we see in
the rushing myriads any line of orderly movement
onward. No eye can see the moral progress of the
race to better things, as we may see the darkening
cloud climbing up over the face of the sky. Looking
out up(m the struggles and conflicts of men, all seems
confusion. No one point can be discerned in the
disorder, where the greatest spirits are cutting
through the darkness a path for all maidvind and
drawing them after. But when the long day of
battle is over we can see which army has gained the
field. So we may take our stand at the beginning
of sonie great epoch of history, and watch the slow
procession of the years toward the next great epoch.
Now we can see the hand of God everywhere. It
has done marvellous things, using every kind of
agency for the advancement of His wise purposes.
Now we see whole centuries given up to war and
destruction. The blood of uncounted hundreds of
thousands has been poured into the earth. The
tenderest affections have been blighted. The rich
and prosperous have been hurled down to poverty
and misery, in the midst of great national con-

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QUESTIONING GODS (JOODNESS.

iS.

vulsions. Whole peoples have been led into slcavery.
Fair lands have been desolated. Wide territories
have been depopuUited by famine aiil pestilence.
Yet in some way or other, which the actors never in-
tended nor understood, throui^h all these convulsions
the race has been led to something better than was
ever before known. After every storm the standard
of human proi^ress has been planted a little farther
in advance. Men have found themselves in the en-
joyment of some new good. The movement of man-
kind through blood and tears, through graves and
sacrifices, has been onward and upward. The light
increases. The race has fou<^ht its way up from mid-
night to dawn, and now the noontide is fast hurry-
ing on to meet the children of to-day.

What has done it? Not the genius of con([uest,
nor thab- of discovery, for these actors never planned,
nor even knew that they were the leaders of the
human family up nearer to its goal. It is God alone
who has been in all movements of men, causing the
evil to spend its force in ways as little destructive,
as possible, and bending the good towards tlie high-
v".<t ends. God alone could see any order or design
iM t\\e history of nations. As God has been work-
ainong our kindred in all ages, we may make
uiiat He is e<jually potent in (^very field of

)/i'

action in our *^ime.

things turn as tiiev do. \V

cannot
e seem

understand why

to be

accom

plish-

ing nothing. But place your hand over your eyes,
and turn your face toward the dazzling future, and

iili^

QUESTIONINCi CODS (JOODNESS.

you will see the peoples of the comin<j^ time looking
back to our era as the womb of their grand civiliza-
tion, thanking us for what we now sufi'er in their
behalf, and wondering how we could endure to live
in such days as these,

2. We need also to remember that God has always
used His Church as a mighty factor in the world's
progress.

There have been times when its character was
such that we of to-day cannot understand how it
could bear the name of the Church at all. It was
low in it / ' " '. It was sfrovellino: in its methods.
It was vile its morality. Yet even then it was
the best thing that those weary ages preserved to
the world. Take out what it knew, and what it
taught, and what it did, and all the rest that was
in the world might be buried in oblivion, and man-
kind would be no poorer.

So to-day the Church of Christ is the very best
thing that belongs to this world. The inspiring
Spirit is higher than the written word. The word
is higher than the pulpit that preaches it. The
pulpit is higher than people in the church who
stand around it. Its teaching, notwithstanding
many perversions of truth, is far in advance of the
world's moral practice. The people in the Church
are immeasurably in advance of the masses who
live out of the Church, shaking^ofl' its restraints, and
scorninsf its teachinfjs. Throu'di His Church the
Almighty God is to-day calling the earth to a better
type of life, and a higher plane of happiness.

QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

flH

3. We should also remember that in the past God
lifis pushed old effects and useless aojencies out of
the way, and has brouf^ht better and more active
instruments upon the field.

Some men and some institutions are in the posi-
tion of advanta<:x*^ ^or action. Thev stand next to
the tree of success, and more easily and naturally
than others can pluck its fruit. They are like the
seventh fii^ure to the left in a row of fin^ures.
They represent millions, while others stand only for
hundrf'ds, or even tens, or perhaps merely units. The
Christian Church and the prominent men in it have
in every aiije been in this position of advantai^fe to
act upon the world. They are so placed to-day.
They can do more than other men ecpially well
e(i nipped in all other respects.

But mark, it is the Church that God uses. It is
the truth it holds in possession, the i^ift of the Spirit
which rests upon it ; the peculiarl}'' well adapted
orj^anization for action which it possesses : this is
what He prizes, not the particular men who are in it at
any ojiven time. It follows that if those who are provi-
dentially so well situated for all action are at any
time settled on the lees, and dread any chancre and
ortbrt, and will not move, the event is nev^er pre-
vented, though it may be delayed, by that fact. God
will cause such a noise to come tumblin<Tf about their
astonished heads, that they will either get out of the
way, or get up and strike. If they cannot arouse
themselves so as to be equal to the claims of duty,

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QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

or tlio (leinands of the hour, He will leave them at
their ease, but at the same time, without waitinnf for
them either to get ready for it, or to die, He will
find some one for the occasion — some one not tied up
by traditions or prejudices, who will move, and that,
too, like the lightning around an acute angle. In the
sixteenth century, the noise was Luther's voice. In
the seventeenth, it was Puritanism. In the eighteenth,
He drew John Wesley out of the window of a burn-
iuix building. In our own time He has sent to grave
men in classical Edinburgh, and in wealthy London,
a Moody and a Booth with their fervency and love
for the souls of men, if by any means whatever they
may be saved.

In the sixteenth century the Church of Rome was
orderly enough, and very respectable, so that it
frowned upon such an irregular thing as Protestant-
ism. It felt strong enough to despise, and trample
into the earth, any such unauthorized movement.
Yet Protestantism lives to-day. And so, a hundred
years later, the starched dignitaries of a dominant
ecclesiastical system stood blazing in the flattering
li^ht around the throne. They tried to crush Puri-
tanisni under their indignant feet, but in vain.

And so, too, the Church of Wesley's day was
equally unfit to do His great work for humanity.
It liad let the population of the kingdom entirely
outgrow the accommodation of the churches, while,
with becoming dignity, it read its classical service to
those who would liear, and it had neither sympathy

QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

nor interest in any one else. It strai^ditened itself
up in shocked amazement when a man was found
to seek the welfare of the house of Israel, and stood
confounded at Wesley's strange doctrine and irregu-
lar methods. Why, he would preach in the streets !
It was dreadful ! So they cast him out.

Now these men in each case were in the provi-
dential place for action, but actually they were
worthy successors of the Pharisees who in their
pride cast out Jesus as a vain pretender. They
scorned and cursed Him, then they condemned and
crucified Him ; and yet Jesus lives, and He is here
to-day.

It is an old truth that God waits no man's con-
venience. In the atlairs of nations it is as it is in
the Church. Men who will not or can not move,
must get out of the way. Every Charles I. has his
Cromwell. Every George III. has his Washington.
Every Philip II. has his William the Silent.

This is the law of human progress, both in and
out of the Church. God will not wait until those
who ought to be His agents are ready. If they are
not ready when His time comes, they must give
place to others. We must either lill our place or be
cast out of it.

Does the thought occur to any mind, whom is
this all designed to strike ?

1. I answer first of all, it is aimed at myself. I
confess that I feel the rush of the world's life
around me so intensely that at times it seenjs ditH-

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QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

cult to keep up with it. The heart, wearied with
its fast til robbing, sometimes cries out for a little
rest. But I doubt not that others are in the same
condition. I simply mean to warn against a com-
mon danger.

2. My second thought in presenting these warn-
ings is that this church ought to be in a state of
constant revival. It will either be very dead, or
tremendously alive. All its sympathy should be
invoked in the interest of a religion that saves
men's souls. I want to speak words that will help
to remove every possible hindrance out of the way
of a revival that may result in the saving of men. I
would, if I could, strike a blow that would awaken
every man out of a condition of indilference and
hopelessness concerning the church's work.

3. I especially mean my words to be an earnest
call to every one to arouse himself, and stand in
readiness for work. The success oi a church, almost
more than anything else, depends upon each person
in it doing something. I have read an incident
that occurred in a thunder-storm. A family in
great alarm had gathered themselves into the middle
of the largest room in the house. The youngest
child sudderdy disappeared from the cowering com-
pany, and went into one of the dark corners of the
room, and knelt down in prayer. After a few
moments she returned, and glowing with hopefulness,
said, " Well, I have done what I could, anyway."
And what she could do was much. So should every

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QUESTIONING GODS GOODNESS.

one connected with a Christian church be able to say
with reference to its great enterprises.

4. Tliere is always danger of overlooking the im-
portance of conversion and sanctitication, in other
forms of effort ever rushing upon us. Generally a
ciiurch gets what it labors for. If it is for great con-
c-iXMi^ations who come and go as to any fashionable
resort, they can have it if they will pay the price.
If they will have saving power they may have that
also. When God converted Augustine, who dreamed
of what He was going to do with that man ? So
even now there may be some one here whom God is
<foin<; to use in a similar remarkable work, after
converting him to-night.

.'). Last of all, .1 ask your sympathy with the
Christian Church. Work with it. Sympathize with
its mission. Cherish hopeful feelings concerning its
future. Depend upon it the Church is going to be
in at the linal triumph of God and righteousness.
It will be present when truth receives its grand
coronation.

Who would not share its mighty triumph then ?
Therefore share its work and lot now, and cultivate
enthusiasm, in looking out upon its future pro-
spects.

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lILj

GOD'S AGENCV IN EVIL.

" It shall come to pass at that time, that I will search Jerusalem
with candles, and punish the men that are settled on their lees,
that say in their heart, The Lord will not do good, neither will
he do evil." — Zkimianiah i, 12.

AWEP^K ago I endeavored to show that God does
do ijjood. The whole trend of human events,
under llis guiding hand, points to good. The earth is
steadily moving to vizard a better day.

But the text urges us to enquire if He also does
evil. It is as clearly implied here that He does the
one as the other.

It is important, to begin with, to understand what
is meant by evil. The idea which the word conveys
to our minds is that which causes pain, or distress,
or disappointment, or which interferes with human
happiness. We also generally associate with it
some malignity or delight in others' miseries, on the
part of the one who causes them.

Now with that idea of evil in our minds, we may
well pause before we accept as truth, the statement
that God does evil. His character, as given to us in
the Bible, is goodness ; and ever delighting in good-

GOD S AGENCY IN EVIL.

^iiiMHH

ftl

iiL'ss, h;i[)|)inL'ss and peace. To a he'iiii,^ with such a
iiiitiire all moral evil is impossible. All malice, or
hatred, or envy, is eternally exeliKhid from every
thouujht of Mis heart. We cannot think of Him a.y
(leliuhtini; in the misery of any creature.

Whr.t then remains ? In what sense ma}- we
think of God as doing evil ?

There are two lines alon<]f which this text may he
interpreted.

I. There is the evil which God does as a discip-
line. 1 mean those present evils which are desi^injd
for discipline and correction, and throui;]i which
the offtuider becomes a nobler creature.

II. Then there is punishment that is retributive.
CJod does this kind of evil by simply allowini,^ it to
fall upon men as a natural consecjuence of their in-
discretions and sins.

J. Let us consider first the evil which God uses
as a corrective agency. By that is meant some dis-
pensation which causes present distress, or loss, or
disappointment, though in the end it will result in
happiness. The good, the happiness, which comes
out of it is great, out of all proportion to the })ain
which was suffered. It can only be called evil in
the same sense in which the punishment which a
loving parent inflicts upon a di.sobedient child is
called evil. But that present punishment may ^ave
the child from years, yea, it may be, from liainite
ages of suffering. So also may the evil which God
uses for purposes of correction. If we speak wdth

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(iOD's AGENCY IN EVIL.

strict j)liil().s()[)liical currcctne.'ss, wc will not call it
evil at all, l)Ut <^foocl.

In this class we should douhtless count most ol'
the (lisappoiutiiierits in our plan in lif«!, and tlu;
losses we have to hear, and the failures in reach ini;
what our ellorts aim at. Perhaps we should also
include here the sickness we suH.t; hut 1 liavc
serious doubts it' God does use sickness, cert y
not often, to correct us for sin.

Now, when l)y (lod's directicm any of these thini^'s
fall upon us, it is that they may hend and i^rind us
into better shape, and that they may prune and
train us into more retined and exquisite forms of
beauty.

Here then is one sense in wdiich we may under-
stand the truth implied in the text.

II. Leavin*^ these forms of evil, if we call them
such, we have to consider the evil that comes )n
men as a retributive punishment. The word is cc.->e(l
for pain or misery that does not result in good.
There is a misery that pierces, and pinches, and
grinds, and bleeds, and groans through unlimited
years, that sweeps onward like a great river wearing
its channel deeper and wider as it flows steadily on
to the end, or it may be for aye.

Now, does God plan such evil as this ? Does He
invent it ? Does He work it out in His thought and
cause it to drop down upon men like thunder from
an unclouded sky ? That could not even be thought
of by anything less than a monster. T remenduT

(JOI)S A(JENr'Y IN KVII,.

ill an <»1<1 scrino!! oiico, the Ijiiii^mim^^', " Cim] drlii^lits
in liuiiian LjroMii.s ; tears and Mood jire weleoine to
His eye." That thoui^dit was j^ot from tht; spirit of
that aL;e, but not from the Bible. It is onl}' in the
f)vi'st use of iii^urative hin^uai;e that (jlod can be
said to do evil so rank as this. He permits it to
coine, and the one who allows is sometimes said to
do the deed.

IJut, even so, we need to proceed with the ^^reatest
caution to an understandincr of the way in which
(iod pernnts this evil. It is not as we may think
of a man permittincj his child to leap into a catar-
act to his certain destruction. He could prevent it
bv a touch of his hand, or even bv a word, but he
does not. We cannot imagine such a thini,' as pos-
sible. But not so does God permit remediless cal-
amity to fall upon men. I think it was in 1(S77
that one of the most calamitous railway accidents
ol" modern times occurred at Ashtabula, Ohio. A
full passenf^er train went through a bridge. An
Ohio farmer and his wife sat in that train. The
roar of the train prevented their hearing tlie crack-
ing of the timbers of the bridge. But they felt the
tirst shock indicating that something was wrom;.
The car seemed to leap up. They thought that the
train was simply off the track. Then it seemed to
l)e going up a steep liill. No doubt the rear end of
the car wdiere they sat sank down tirst. When it
struck the ice the car was crushed to pieces, and the
man was pinne<l fast between the side of the car

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CODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

and a seat. Tlu3 wife was free. Tin; water was
fast risini; at the lower end, and tlie liie rapidly
approachinLi; them from above. She did all she
eoidd to release her husban*!. He told her to try to
bend his le^^ arouml the seat, and, if possible, to
break it. He thouufht if it were broken, he would
be reli(;ved from Ins cramped position, and nni^ht
extricate himself. Her efforts to do tliis were in vain.
The fire was fast approaching ; now it seized upon
lier i^arments. 81ie had formed a plan in her mind,
and when the tire came she beu^an to lav cushions of
car seats upon her hus])and, intending to sit upon
tliem in the hope that while nhe was being consumed,
some providential relief might save him. This, liow-
ever, he would not allow her to do. He compelled
her to leave the burning wreck, and she wx'nt out,
her cloth in^r in flames.

Now the manner in which that woman permitted
her husband to perish, is somewliat as God allows
remediless evil to fall upon men. She did all in her
power to save him before she abandoned him to his
fate. The calamity was not designed or planned by
her. He chose to make the journey, well knowing
that trains were sometimes wrecked. Death came
to him in the regular course of unavoidable events.

So it is w^ith God's government. He has appointed
and ordained the system of things which prevails
throughout the universe. This system is calculated
to bring the greatest possible amount of happiness
to God, a,n<l all His creatures, throughout all the ages ;

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riODs A(iE\r;v in EVir..

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still, it is possible tliat under it evil, from wliicli
there is no escape, may sprinj^ int« existence. This
arises from the unalteraljle and irreconcilalde enmity
wliicli exists between the serpent and the seed of
the woman, between love and liatred, between purity
and lust, between honesty and fraud, between truth
jiiil falsehood, between a benevolent rei^oird for all
mankind, and the b&ny-Hngered cupidity of covet-
otisness, which (jjrasps after all, and tries to monopo-
lize it for self ; in short, between all that is rii^dit
and all that is wronj^ ; so that it is inevitable that
sin will be followed by pain and anij^uish. NothiuL,^
hut misery can ever sprinj^ as the last result from
moral baseness.

This is not only true of this world, but of all the
wide universe. There is not a spot owned by God
jinywhere, not a place big enouf^h to hold an intelli-
gent creature of any order, in all the realm over
which He reifjjns, wherein sin will not, before it has
run its course, cause a pang to pierce the soul. This
is a natural conse(|uence, and it is im])ossil)le that
this can be otherwise, and the order of the universe
he what it is. If the order were changed so as to
make anything else possible, it would be changed in
such a way as to be less productive of good, or of
tlie happiness of all, than it ncnv is.

If, therefore, men will fully choose alliance with
the serpent, if they will win<l around their souls,
;ind bury up in their natures th-e love of what is
false and foul, then it njust follow that after a few

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GODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

l)rii;]it (lays of sinful pleasure, they will be stun
with the serpent's poison, and ensnared and hound up
with the chains of their own treachery. The evil
impression upon their hearts will become indelible.
If a liiilit be flashed before a fflass and then taken
away, it will leave no impression, but if often
repeated it will leave an impression that will abide.
The twii^ carelessly bent in passing from day to day,
at last has an inclination that is permanent, and con-
tinues throutrhout the life of the tree So a man's
conscience may become unalterably i. praved, and
then he will find a deepest hell begun in himself ;
and even if it were possible that prayer might open
any door of escape, this deep-seated love for the foul
atmosphere of curses would prevent any deliverance
through that door. When, then, we say that God
allows these irretrievable evils to fall upon man, it
is only saying that the order of nature, which is
every way for the best, is allowed to take its course,
and to work out its legitimate results. It is some-
thing like this. Every railroad must have its
terminus somewhere. Let us suppose that it is a
season in which the yellow fever is raijjincr in New
Orleans. The pure, bracing air of the north is full
of health and life. A man stands in a station at
Chicago. At one platform is a train which will
carry him down the Mississippi to New Orleans. At
another is one waiting which will start in a few
moments for Manitoba. The man knows perfectly
well the diti'erent chances for life in the two places.

fJODS AGENCY IN EVU..

Vet he wilfully pjoes aV)oar(l the train pointini^ to-
wards the south, and soon it is thundei'inu; away on its
course towards the plague-stricken city. JUit he need
not stay on board. There are tifty stations, ateitlier
of which he may get down and retrace liis steps. But
he finds genial spirits in the car. They i.-at and
drink, and smoke together, they talk an<l lauMi and
play, and the hours pass rapidly. He never once
thinks of the end, until the train is rushing into the
(loomed city. The shrrp whistle of the locomotive
reminds the passenger.-j that they liave now gone too
far to escape the danger. Already tlie poisoned air
is rushing in at the window. The}' look out on
every side upon the ghastly evidences of pain and
death and sorrow. A day or two later it is known
that this man has taken the fever and died.

Now we are going to fix the blame in this case
upon the right parties. Will you reproach the rail-
road company for bringing this evil upon this man ?
Kvery one says that would be most absurd. What
is the fact ? The railway company has established
an order of things by which the welfare of the
country is greatly advanced. But under this order
of things which it has established it was possible
for a man to run into this danoer, and to brine:
upon himself this evil, which is without a remedy
in this world. By just so much and no more, the
railway company does the evil which the man and
his family suffer in his death.

Now it is in a manner perfectly similar to this,

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GODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

tliat (Jloil may be said to do the evil which men
suH'er ill consequence of their sins and follies. Tlie
raih-oad is a great good to all travellers, and to com-
merce. It is not possible to prevent a foolish man
from using it to advance the ends of folly. So
God's universe is the most perfect of which it is
possible to conceive. Still men may make such a
use of their privilege in it as to cause the whole
world to fall down upon them.

" F<;r such Ciod's holy law, in written word,
Tn nature writ, that they who willing gird
'riieniselves in sin, as in a mantle warm,
In guilty ignorance their souls deform,
Shall find in chosen sin their direst curse,
A heavier load than all the universe ? "

The blow will be sure to fall some time. The sky
will be written over with wrath to the eye of the
guilty. The only way to avoid the curse of sin is
to avoid the sin.

One day I examined a fjrand edition of ]\Iilton's
" Paradise Lost." It was the Dore edition, and
splendidly illuminated with the matchless pictures
from that master's peerless hand. One of these pic-
tures represented Adam and Eve almost immediately
after the fall. They are far enough removed from
their sinful act to begin to realize the terrible con-
sequences of it. The deep blackness of their eclipse
is beginning to flow over their souls. They stand,
dressed in their extemporized garments of fig leaves,
in an attitude that indicates a feeling that everything

with

GODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

(rood has frone out of their grasp. The li^lit is fast
fading from their eyes. They can now ordy see the
harrenness of the rocks over winch tliey bend.
With consummate skill the artist has thrown into
their faces all the indefinable anguish of a hell
already begun. Still there is room for the imagina-
tion to work around such a picture, and if you will
allow this, you can weep in sympathy with nusery
like this, so deep that no language can give it form,
hut which wails out upon you in suggestive sym-
bolism.

As I looked upon that picture the thought pressed
upon me with overwhelming power, that picture is
an allegory, representing the bitter, searchirig, rend-
ing truth that lies buried up in the story of all sin.
They found it an easy way in, but the path once
entered they were already in the hot flames of hell.
So it always is. So it will prove with you, my
beloved friend, if you dare to tempt hell and death
by making the trial. You will find that the way
down will be made very attractive and full of pro-
mise. The dalliance with its charms might draw an
angel under its thrall. But after the sleep, adorned
with fantastic visions, comes the terrible awakening
to hard pressing realities. After the thrilling intoxi-
cation of pleasure come the sharp pains of nature's
readjustment. When one is going down into the pit
of guilt he thinks only of pleasure, or gain, to be
realized. After the act is done and the pleasure is
drunk, or the gain is wasted, there comes the bitter

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GODS AGEN<.'Y IN EVIL.

remembrance of much Gfood lost. Tlie sensil)ilitv
that ofieriMl stern and sure resistance to evil is
<(one. The sweet security of inmjcence, that, like
the dusty covering; of the grape, once removed can
never be replaced ; the door of opportunity, open in
all directions, now forever ch)sed ; the un(iuestion-
in*2: esteem of gjood men turned into looks of doubt;
the sense of the divine favor once streauiinLi^ down
into the heart like guiding sunlight, are now with-
drawn, and the soul is left in a darkness that is close
and cold and helpless.

Oh, this bitter awakening after a course of sin is
inevitable. No man can escape it. He may bury
himself in indulg:ences which induce forgetfulness
for a few years, but from his first step downward,
the messenirer that shall lift the veil of his illusion
is moving toward him with hurrying feet. It is the
avaricious man, before whom the door of fraud or
theft stood so temptingly open, and it was so easy
to enter in, and it seemed so safe in there. It is the
thoughtless maiden, or the weak w^ifo who, carried
away with excitement and drunk and silly with love,
thinks that it is romantic and grand to stake every-
thing on love. It is the growing boy, or the young
man who dallies and trifles with drink, because no
nerve in his body has ever shown a sign of tremu-
lousness, and he foolishly thinks that it will be ever
so ; or who allows his j'et scant stock of wisdom to
be borne down by his affluent physical power, and
then shouts his reckless, taunting bravado in the

GODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

face of all virtue, and in pursuit of soft in(lulL;t'ncer:
"•ains a knowledije which no youth is vet tit to know,
iin<l wliich no young man can venture to km. \v witli-
out teniptini^^ (himnation into liis own soul. No
matter who it is, or where or when, it will l»e the
experience of Adam and Eve over aij^ain. Tliu one
fatal step is taken, the deed is done, the p(;isoi\
has heu^un to How, and a fathondess depth of woe
must be drunk dry before that one sin lias run its
full course.

A thouf^ht, shaded somewhat with doubt, has been
"^rowimx in some minds as I have f;one on. I will
try to state it for you.

It is like this. The text represents that God
bears the same relation to the doing of the good and
to the doing of the evil. Now, the argument in this
sermon makes out that God only does evil by allow-
in<r it as the natural result of the order of thinsfs
He has established in nature. Why, then, will it
not follow that He does good in the same way ?
l)Ut this is all that the Pantheistic philosopher
claims, that the world is under natural laws, and
God never interferes with its operations, either for
good or ill.

Hut all tins does not follow from the argument.
The goodness of God's character will prevt3nt His
interfering with the established order of tliinixs
to do evil; but the very qualities which hinder Him
from interfering in this way will prompt Him to
interfere to do erood.

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001) s A(;en(!Y in evil.

It now reniaitis to show how He has interfered
for the sake of tlie human race, o^ to do rjood.

1 . The first example of tliis is the gift to the worM
of the Lord Jesus Clirist. Go and stand l)y tlie
cross, and think if you can that God has never in-
terfered with the affairs of this worhl for tlie good
of men. The import of the cross is that as long as
a man is alive in this world he has the privilege of
beixinninix a'-ain. That is what forixiveness of sins
means. It does not mean that in all respects a for-
given man is the same as if the sin had never been
committed. That cannot be. In some respects a
man can never be what he would have been if he
had never sinned. If in a brawl, wdiile he is trying
to wound some one else, he receives a gash across the
face, the scar will remain there. Nothing but death
and decomposition will remove it. So, in many
other particulars, forgiveness does not make the
man the same as if he had never sinned. But this
much it does do : it gives every man a chance to
begin his life upon a new plan. A merchant
changes from the retail to the wholesale. I ask,
"Are you giving up your business ? " He answers,
" No ; but I am changing the plan of my business."
So in any calling a man may change his plan and
methods. He cannot change the mistakes he has
made, or perhaps recover the losses sustained
through those mistakes, but he can adopt a plan
which will prevent similar errors in the future.

Now, this is just what Christ has made possible

GODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

t() eery man. He cannot alter the fact of liis |);ist
sin. It cannot be whc^lly undone, but tlie lei^al pen-
alty of it may be wholly removed. This done, the
man may have another chance. He may be<rin
a'^ain, and make the best of Ids chances (hirini; the
remainini^ years of his life.

Are there not some here now who remember the
mistakes of the past and would like to begin ai^ain ?
How often men say, " Oh, that I could live my life
over again ! " That cannot be, but any one may live
the remainder of his life better than what has gone
before. The past has built its monument for you.
it is the impressions that have been made perma-
nent upon your heart for good or evil ; some are
good, some are bad. During the past seven days
some have learned new sacrifices for virtue, and
some to commit new sins. Oh, let us here and now
lay down the vow to put ourselves from henceforth
in the hands of God, to do His will, and serve His
holv cause.

2. God also interferes in order to win men from
the path that is leading them down to ruin. Evei\y
church built is such an interference. Open or
closed, on Sabbath or any other day, it is a silent
appeal to all who pass it to turn from the evil to
the good. So is the dawn of every Sabbath day.
Its (juiet, its holy restfulne.ss, the well understood
nature of its employments, all that pertains to it, is
an appeal to men to turn to God.

But more than this God does. He sends His

t V I

CJODS AGENCY IN EVIL.

ministers with His word of appeal, to win and diaw
Mien away from all evil courses. They uri^e and warn,
and with ati'ectionate persuasions try to win men,
and the Holy Spirit comes to the heart in a thousand
ways of winning entreaty and persuasive influence.
Providence also opens wide doors throu<j;h which all
who will may ilee from the impending danger. A
young man is held down to a sinful course by the
influence of evil companions, but unaccountably the
one who had the greatest control over him is caused
to remove to another part of the country, or even to
another land. It is the hand of Providence opening
before that young man a way of escape from the
sins and sinful associates of his past life.

3. It is not uncommon when the crash of irre-
trievable ruin falls upon a person for him to com-
plain against God. He asks, " If God is good why did
He allow me to go on thus to my ruin ? " I answer,
"You have been running all your life with heedless
speed towards Kvi present hour, and all the time
God has been trying to prevent you. He has sent
you call after call, opportunity after opportunity,
warning after warning. Again and again you have
seen the ruin of others wdien pursuing the same path.
But with these things before your eyes you would see
no liandw^'iting of God written in black, threatening
characters against the sky ; you would see in them
no hand in mercy stretched out to aid you. You
would go on to the bitter end in your way to ruin.
There now^ remains nothing for you but to live

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GODS AGENCY IX EVIL.

(i:i

tliroui^li tilt-' (lark, divary, am] cheerloss day upon
whic'li you havo awakencMJ.

4. But he expostulates further, "If Ood is oumi-
poteiit, why did He not prevent nie, and compel ine
to turn ?" That is a very foolish (piostion to ask.
it means, why did not (iod make you at first a
tree or a stone :* The stone is prevented by God from
o-oini; to ruin, so is a mole and a snail. They are
not capable of knowing or feeling any misery. To
have made vou such a creature, instead of niakin;''
you a man, W(juld have been the only way in which
(Jod could have absolutely prevented you from
being lost. Omnipotence cannot do some things be-
cause they are inconnistent with physical force.
Tell me to remove a mountain with my hands.
Give me time enough and I will do it. But if you
ask me to drive the light out of a room by beat-
ing it with my hands, I have to reply that it is im-
possible, I cannot accomplish it it' you give me an
eternity. The two things are not adapted to act upon
each other. So omnipotence is e([ually unadapted
to act against the will of a free moral a^fent. If
God saved you from ruin by the exercise of His
omnipotence, He must, as the lirst act of that onmi-
potence, change you into something different from
what you are. In the change you would become a
creature to wdiich it would be cf no value to be
saved. Man is capable of being happy in heaven or
miserable in hell, becaase he is capable of knowing
(lod. If this capacity were taken away it would

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rjODS AGENXT IN EVIL.

he (»r IK) vjiluc to [fi't into liL'aVL'ii. But wliili; lu-
possL'SM's tliat capacity lie is free to choose or re-
ject.

5. Here, then, we stand. God does evil through
the re^^iilar course of thin;;s being allowed to
])roceed and to develop their lef^itiuiate results.
Whether or not the evil befalls you, will depend
upon where you stand. If your life is bad ; if your
vjew is so filled up with what is near that you cati
scarcely feel the efleet of the distant; if the present
presses upon you and fills you so completely that
the future is all shut <jut ; if you so live in the
pleasures and excitements of the body that you feel
butsli'ditlv or not at all the influence and claims of
the moral and spiritual world ; then you are allowin*^'
a levera«,^e to be placed under you which will hurl you
with infallible precision from your rock of self-con-
fidence down into a fathomless depth of perdition.

But while God is permittinf,' this to i^o on, He is
appealing by all powerful motives, and striving by
all reasonable means to lead every one into paths
that will end in happiness and peace. Our duty is
to keep our hearts open to all moral motives. We
are guilty if we allow ourselves to grow dead to
His appeals. We should not consent to become in-
diff'ei-ent to the gracious offers by wliich He appeals
to us, and tries to help us. H' we are wiHiu' to re-
ceiN'c the ijood He is willinof to do us, a never

feel in our own experience that He dot vil.

TME MINI) OF CHRIST.

" Let this mind be in you •wluch was alao in Chriat Jchus."

— I'hilipi'Ian.s ii. 5.

AS a man thinketh in his heari so is he." So
said Soloinon, hut Jesus also tauL^ht the
same truth : " Not that which goeth into tht; mouth,
but tluit which cometh out of tlie mouth, detileth a
a man." " Those thint^s wliich ])rocee(l out of the
mouth come forth from the heart." " For out of the
lieart proceed evil thoughts," etc. " These are the
things which detile a man." It is not then what
the luind does, or the mouth speaks, hut what the
heart tliinks, that declares what manner of n»an a
person is. I say, " What one's heart thinks, ' l)ecause
in the sense in which the ^vord is used here, the
mind means the habitual thoughts of a person.

-But in what thoughts then ou<j:ht I to indulge ?
" Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ
Jesus." To have habitually such thoughts as Jesus
had is to have attained to the very highest type of
mardiood. This is true Christianity.

I. True Christianity re<iuires that there be in us
the mind which was in Christ in relation to the
atiiairs of this world.

f.;! '

TUE MIND OF CHRIST.

He was in, but not of this world. He used it, but
did not love it. It belonged to Him, He did not
belonj,^ to it. He never sold Himself to it. He never
allowed it to get Him into its power as some men
do. I think we express the whole truth on this point
when we say that His relations to this world never
led Him into sin. I think that all sin grows out of
our relations to each other or to God.

We are certainly led into most of tlie sins which
we commit by our thoughts about this world or
the people in it. We cannot therefore say any
better thing of Jesus than that while in this world
His thou^dits never led Him into sin.

I will try to state what His mind was in relation
to this world under a few separate heads, as includ-
ing in His mind, f^ympathy, unselfishness, and
honesty.

1. In relation to this world Jesus had a sympa-
thetic mintl. He left us in one sentence a rule of
life which we may be sure He observed in His own.
We have heard it called the golden rule, Matthew
vii. 12: "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to
them."

Now, when we were children, nothing seemed
more simple than to observe that rule of life. But
the wisdom whicli attends upon riper years discov-
ers that it is really a ditlicult command to obey per-
fectly. I am to do to another what 1 would have
him do to me. But perhaps he will not like what I

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

like. Maybe what will be j^ood for me will not be
(foofl for him. An idle, ra<^ged boy was asked what
he would like to do in heaven, and he said he would
like to swing on a gate all day long. Now, sup-
pose that in accordance with this rule that boy
should get oft" the gate on which he is swini-ing
some day, and oft'er to allow his bent old grand-
father to get on it and have a swing, it would no
doubt be a great act of self-denial on the part of the
boy; yet riding the gate would hardly be suitable
to the old grandfather. The boy has not hit the
mark though he has obeyed the golden rule.

Now this is certainly an extreme case, used by
way of illustration. But we are often discovering
that we have not reached our aim when we have
honestly done to others what we would have them
do to us.

I tlo not speak in this way to start dilHculties. I
know that we will each discover ditliculties eriough
for himself. But I allude to this ditliculty as one of
many illustrations of the truth tliat it recjuires much
common sense, and much sympathy with humanity,
as well as a genuine conversion, to live as a Chris-
tian is expected to live. No preacher can tell in his
sermon, no manual can lay down in rules, the art by
which one Christian may make his walk and con-
versation as beautiful in the eyes of men as some
other has made his. This much we may do. We
may each become, tlirough Christ, eijually accep-
table to God, so far as our past sin is concerned.

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

We may each be forgiven, and so be admitted into
the full favor of God, and be full heirs of heaven.
With this we must be satisfied, so far as equality is
concerned. In the estimate of men the lives of
those who are equally sincere will differ from each
other as much as their faces, or their intellectual
attainments. Accordinf^ to the measure of a man's
good sense, and of his sympathy, but not according
to his sincerity, or the genuineness of his conver-
sion, will he appear to men to adorn the doctrine of
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he pro-
fesses.

Hence it is that I say that Jesus had a sympa-
thetic mind. He entered into people's feelings. He
by sympathy with them was able to discern their
characters, and to feel their wants. To use an ex-
pression that has now become very common, He
could put Himself in the place of another, and then,
feeling what would be appropriate in the case. He
did as He would have them do to Him in similar cir-
cumstances. And this is just what this precept
means. We sliould do unto others what we would
have them do to us if we were in their condition or
circumstances.

Now, no one ever found it so difficult to do this as
Jesus did. He was surrounded by people who were
ignorant and malicious. It is very hard for refined
and intelligent people to have to come into contact
with such ])ersons. When we fall in with stupid
persons we instinctively want to take them by the

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

()9

two shoulders, and cause them to vibrate back and
forth, with a speed more agreeable to us tlian to
them, and which will cause them to regard their
own breath as for a time an unattainable luxury.
We cannot quite understand why men should be
stupid when the sun is shining, and babies live with
their eyes open. When we meet with the mali-
cious we withdraw into ourselves, very much as we
slirink away from a serpent. We want to have
nothinrr to do with them. We cannot bear the thoufjht
of going with them, and in any sense sharing in their
fortunes or sufferings. As to their sufferings, we
feel very much inclined to say that it serves them
ri<dit. Yet Jesus was in the midst of such all His
earthly life, and never spoke unkindly to one of
them. His words never brought pain or calamity
to one of His bitterest foes. We know that He
judged the erring with gentleness. He stooped to
reach the weak. His heart throbbed with helpful
pity for the suffering and the needy and the sick.
He adapted himself with eijual ease to the aged and
the young. He entered into the pleasures of social
life. He was present at the marriage in CJana of
Galilee. I have heard it said that He never lauirhed.
1 do not believe it. He would not have been
true either to His own manhood, or to the world into
which He came to live as other men, if He had not
sometimes laughed. We may depend U[)on it, that
there was no phase of life peculiar either to age or
youth, experienced either by male oi- female, with

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THE MIND OF CHRIST.

which Jesus did not enter into lively sympathy.
Thoui^h He could not himself enjoy many thinf^s
that other men enjoyed, still He knew that it' He
were in the same circumstances He would enjoy
them. 80 far as He could do so without sin, He
entered into other people's joys, and did what He
could to make each happy in his own way. But in
working out this plan of life He allowed neither
mirth or sadness to lead Him into sin.

Now let us have the same mind. Let us, in sym-
pathy, go with others as far as is right, even though
we do not find our pleasure in the same way they
are accustomed to do. It is Christ-like in age to
bend to the weakness and silliness of youth. It is
Christ-like in youth to respect, and in a measure to
appreciate and enjoy the egotism, and slowness, and
love of what is buried deep in the past. The idle
boy need not give his phice on the gate to his aged
grandfather, but he may listen attentively to the
old man's stories of the days when he was young,
and which in his thoujiht are ever robed in the
golden hues of the setting sun of life's day, and
are more glorious than anything of the present time.
That is what Jesus would have done. Neither of
the extreme conditions of life can enjoy what most
pleases the other, or would seek it from choice, but
to sympathize with each other is to obey the golden
rule. It is to have the mind of Christ in regard to
such things.

But like Him we must watch, and be sure to stop

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

l)efore sin enters. There is dancfer in mirth ; yet we
need not put it away altoo^ether. The pleasures of
social life are attended with dan^^er ; yet we must
iiiinule in social life. Dansrer also lurks alonir the
path in which every man must walk in pursuit of
liis business ; still no one may wholly abandon the
work of his daily calling. Acre and youth have
each their danii^ers ; but men must take their chances
in them all. The rif^ht way is to have the mind of
Jesus, with respect to abstaininc^ from all appear-
ance of evil. We must ask ourselves, a(]^ain and
a'^ain, concerninir many thinc^s in our pleasures and
amusements, and methods of business, would Jesus
havt* done this ? would He have gone there ? Now
as I start these questions it is not needful that you
begin to question what particular things may be in
•ny mind, or what I may imagine you to be habitu-
ally doing which I would (piestion the propriety of ;
but rather let your thoughts fasten upon anything
which may occur to you in your own life, and urge
these questions concerning this particular thing. I
do not know your life so perfectly, that 1 should
suggest ' you what things you should bring to the
test of the mind of Christ. But you do know
your own life ; therefore you may with propriety
ask yourself concerning one thing an<l anotlier,
would Jesus have done what I do in this case / If
I were sure that He would have done it, would I
reverence Him as I have always done ?

2. Jesus had also a7i unf^eljish viind. One grent

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THE MIND OF CHRIST.

vice of humanity is selfishness. Some want all for
themselves. They are not happy if others have
anything. But some a^^ain are quite willin<^' that
otliers sliould be happy if they themselves can only
have all they want first. Indeed, they would prefer
that others should be comfortable, once they them-
selves are satisfied ; but they cannot rise into the idea
of sacriticirii^ anything in order that others may
have their desires. And so the world goes on in its
wear}' way, witnessing a constant struggle after
thinijs that oujrht to be shared so as to secure the
equal comfort of all. There is nothing but the mind
of Ciirist that offers any resistance to this clamor
and conflict of universal selfishness. Men only rise
above it and throw it off just in proportion as they
come to have in them the mind of Christ. After
Napoleon's fall, in 1S15, the great powers of Eun^ie
met in council to arrano;e the affairs of the world so
that it might run along for a time in peace. Upon
no part of the earth did they lay their hand so
heavil}' as upon Italy. You remember that Italy
had in some parts been subject to republican gov-
ernments for ages. Genoa and Venice taught the
principles of free government to the world long
before nations now in the vanfjuard of civilization
had begun to awaken out of slavery. Well, this
grave council of the nations placed every part of
Italy under an absolute despotism, with one single
small exception. They recognized the little repub-
lic of San Marino. It was on the top of a small

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

mountain standing out of the range of tht; Apt-n-
nines, and embraced only a few hundred people. It
seemed like a stroke of sarcasm on the part of the
powers to leave liberty in the hands of a few hun-
dreds upon a mountain top, looking down upon a
i)]ack and hopeless night of universal despotisu .
But that little light shone farther than tliey knew.
Italy had known the meaning of liberty, and could
not forget it. It reached up after it, and rested not
for nearly seventy years, until at last it had washed
away in blood the stains of tyranny from the land.
Well, now, that little light of liberty on one small
mountain was to Italy what the mind of Christ is
in a world of universal selfishness. It shall ct)nquer
in the end. It is conquering now. He was always
giving, rarely receiving. An apostle cjuotes His
golden words, " It is more blessed to give than to
receive." None of the evangelists record this say-
ing, but His whole life endorses it. The sternest
words He ever uttered do not contradict it. His
severest words relate to man's punishment because
of sin. But He never spoke of punishment like a
selfish man, to gratify the burning passion of the
passing moment. He declared against sin, and
doomed it to punishment in such terms of tender
regret, that all who were willing to forsake it felt
that in Him they would find the helpful love of a
true friend. No one else ever so hated sin and
so loved the sinner. He died that He might l)rand
sin as forever and irretrievably bad. He ijave His

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THE MIND OF CHRIST.

life that He miofbt lead the sinner back to God and
heaven.

.3. Jesus had also an honest vfiind. Now there is
al)road a prevalent idea that success is the thin^- to
be attained. That the question is, has a man suc-
ceeded ? Has he brouf^ht anything to pass ? If so,
he is to be crowned. The world has nothing to do
with questions as to the methods by which success
is reached. This view is excused by the considera-
tion that the world is gross and ignorant, and does
not know what is best for itself. It must be led
against its own will, and afterwards it will perceive
that it was best that it should be so managed. But
this plausible reasoning is gravely at fault. Its
chief merit is that it Hatters supremely the self-con-
ceit of the few who happen to be at the time at the
wires, allowing them to feel that they are in some
sense prophets, and that though the world does not
know what is best for it, they do. They are so
much exalted above the heads of others, you know.
Now, this is certainly very pleasant to their mighty
dignities, but the world has not many prophets, and
it would be much better without some of those who
thus constitute themselves prophets for its benefit.
The world has been put back two steps where it has
been advanced one, by all the deeds that cunning
managers have done by tricks and dishonest devices,
imagining that the world was too stupid to under-
stand them.

Here, again, the mind of Christ offers the only

i^a

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

/•)

protest. Once more the little repuldic of Sfin
Marino shines out upon the chirk ahsolutisin that
dominates all Italy. The mind of Jesus was an
honest mind. He always spoke the exact truth. In
all His dealincjs with men Me stood uprii^dit and
evpn as a great granite wall. He raised hoth hand
and voice in straif^htforward and easily understood
condemnation of the falsehood, and shams, and
make believe, and double dealini:^, and sly frauds,
which the customs of ai^es had excused and justified
and tried to make honorable, and wliich custom
still allows. He would rather sleep upon the bare
face of a rock than lie on a bed of down at the; price
of deception. What He could not accomplish by
honorable and fair means, He left to be done by
other ao'es. If He could not lead in the i^reat thinijs
His heart desired, and which He knew to be for the
good of mankind, by proper methods. He compla-
cently allowed their entrance to be indefinitely
"lelayed. He trusted implicitlv in Providence to
bring all things out right in the end, in spite of the
evil devices of men.

Now, in nothing more than in this respect do men
nee<l to have in them the mind of Christ. We ought
to recoGfnize that there are riijht methods ofi doinj.;
right which should be scrupulously observed. Let
us come back to pay honor to honesty, truth and
righteousness. If the world's stupidity, ignorance,
or obstinacy will not allow us to do what we see
plainly will be best for mankind in the end, then let

ilHi

I II

( I

; 1

THE MIND OK CIJKIST.

th(3 world wait for a while. It is pretty well used
to waitinj^' for the i^ood it has received in the past.
It is not necessary that we compel it to receive all
that our conceit points out to us to be best for it.
Other wise and jrood men will live and act Ion*; after
we have ^one down into silence. The fact of
arhitjvinfi;' a success is not now, nor ever was, a sutli-
cient atonement for usinij dishonest methods in
reach in^if our success. Let us learn, like Christ, to
do rii^ht, and then leave the world in the hands of a
wise, superintendinf^ Providence to work all thinf^s
out as they should be in the end.

1 1. Let us have the mind of Christ in respect to the
visible Church and outward religion. He did not
find a perfect Church in the world by any means. It
was as bad as anything that has appeared at any
subse(juent time. Its walls were broken down, and
it was open on every side to the strokes of the criti-
cal believer, and the sharp thrusts of the scoffing
infidel. There were the depraved customs which it
had inherited from preceding ages, the absurd tradi-
tions it had engrafted upon the Word of God, cloth-
ing them with an authority equal to inspiration
itself, the wicked superstitions which had grown
rank with loni; indulirence, the utter rottenness of
the lives of its chosen and distinguished leaders, the
multiplication of sects within it and their bitter
antagonism to each other. In all these respects it
had sunk as low, and in some respects lower, than
the Church weighted by similar abuses in any subse-

iff

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

Mitt

(jUcnt ])erio(l of time. There was many a gross
deformity calling for the hannner of the imat:e-
hreaker, or for the torch of the |)iirif\ing llame,
or for the prunini,' knife of the rutiiK'ss reformer.

Yet bad as that Church was, Jesus did not despise
it. He recof^nized it in His work and attended its
services, and lield fellowsliip witli its memhers. He
cared not for the churcli organization, hut \\v did
care for liumanity, and He saw in t]\e C'iuirch tlie
most etticient agency witli which to reacli the world.
Hence, He became not a railing accuser witliout, but
a respectful reformer within.

Let this mind be in you. The Church has never
been perfectly pure. There has yet been no time
wlien vileness might not hide its liead within its
sanctuary. On tliis account men have assumed
various attitudes toward it. Some withhold tliem-
selves from it altogether. They pretend — yea, they
say — that they live better out of the church, than
its members do in it. It is as though some clerk of
the Allan Steamship Company had not been accom-
modating to a passenger about a berth, and hence-
forth he should determine never again to cross the
ocean in a steamer. He will go on a piece of bark.
He will purchase a canoe.

Yet others renounce the Church with an affectation
of excellence and piety that reveals a magniHcent
conceit, and which assumes that they embody in
themselves a purer and better Church than the
Church that through the ages has borne a steadfast

M-iill

I !

^ii

THE m:nd of chuist.

witness for thu truth. Their piety is iiiarke<l l)y an
almost liatred of any who do not accept their ideas.
They i(row more sectarian than any C'hurch of any
aife in tlie past.

Now tliese metho(]s of treating' the Cluirch arc; botli
weak and irrelii^ious. A'child (jui^lit to see that a
Church can be no better tlian its individual meml)ers.
A thorou^dily bad man may work his way in amoni;
otliers who are perfectly sincere, and as pure as men
niay be in this world. Every devout person who
comes into the Church makes it better. By just .so
much as each will do his utmost to make the Church
better and purer by makini,^ his own life so, will the
Church become what all true men within it desire
that it shall be.

J 1 1. Yet ai;ain, let us have the miud of Christ in
relation to God and heaven.

We may safely say that in knowinpj Jesus, we
know one who never turned His eyes tovvar<l the sky
with anv mists of doubt in them as to the existence
of God, or toward the future shaded with any cloud
of uncertainty. Now, here is one of the weak
])oints in connection with our religious life. We
would be more certain of the existence of God. The
old cry of the disciples again and again breaks forth
into language, " Lord, show us the Father, and it
sutHceth us." Who would not desire to see his own
father i We are taught to believe that He is, but
we never saw His face. It seems almost too much
for faith to go on for a whole lifetime without any

THE MIND OF CHKIST.

assunuicc as to Hi.s existence. It is true He was seen
}»y Moses, face to face ; but that was very long ago,
and tile world is now weary vith waiting. Why
does He not humor our weakness, and c»)iiie out
Honietiuies from heliind His impenetrable veil ? Why
does He not at least reach out a visible hand that
we may grasp, or feel its touch, or at least see it
plainly ? These (juestions arise in our mimls in our
weaker moments. We do not athuit that they are
doubts, much less that they are sceptical ; but they
come upon us again and again. Then tliey are
stren«,'thened by the assaults of some who have
grown into open unbelievers. These break out in
strong and bold assertion, denying that there is any
God. We do not believe them, but their violence
adds fuel to the rising flame of our doubts and
questionings. Thus in spite of ourselves, the
thought will arise, " What if there is no God ? " and
close upon its track follows another, " What if
there be no future life ?" What if all the races of
men who have trampled upon each other as they
have hurried across this scene of action have disap-
peared upon the other side, and will never appear
again ? W^hat if all the great and mighty men of
the past in thought and action, are not now any-
where in existence, and have gone out of all con-
scious interest and activity in the universe ? Our
thoughts will interest themselves in these question?^
in spite of us. Most men find in the circumstances
of this world enough to make them willing'- to

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

remain liere forever, under favorable conditions, but
all know that this is impossible ; hence the activity
of thoiiL^ht about the future. If we mijL^lit but
]mss thr«»Ui(h <leath but for a sin<^le moment, and
then return, how much Ijetter we could perform our
task liere ! How much l)etter men we would be
with the assurance thus ^'iven !

Well, now, there is some help in knowinjjf tliat out;
who was as truly a man as we are passe<l through
the samt; life as ours, and never oncv felt a doubt
noon anv <»f these intenselv interestiiiij: points.
When lb' spoke of his own orinrin it was with the
utmost certainty. "The Father wdiicli sent me."
" 1 am come from the Fatiier." There was no con-
fusion ill IJis mind as to how He came into exist-
ence. He had not to decide whether God made
Him, or m confluence of molecules chanced to throw
Him upon the surface just as He was.

'J'heii H<,' never seemed to think of the Father as
far removed. He spoke of Him as alwaj's inti-
mately near. " I will pray the Father." God was
near, so as to be easily addressed. (Jod was for His
help and benefit. Think of it. A man to whose
mind never came the thoULjht, " What if there is no
(iod!" Who never stood by Hisdea<l with any doubt
if lie should ever meet them ajj^ain. He knew that
the " Father raiseth the dead and quickeneth them."
vVnd He was always just as certaiii about His
own future. " I ascend unto my Father and your
Fathei", and to my God and your God."

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

We cannot but feel that our little heiui^ is im-
uieasinaldy exalted and adorned by relationship
with such a man, one who while in tliis life felt that
He belonLjed as much to the unseen world as to the
sei'H.that the future life was as real to Him as the
present.

Let this mind be in you. But you say, here is
inv ditlieultv. How can I be as confident as He
was? Hal He not been w'rii the Father before the
woild was? I have nothing; but my faith. If I
also bad seen the Father as He had, I would never
(l(»nbt. Now it is just here that we are aided by the
mind of Jesus. We know that He had been with
the Father. We have the historical fact of His
resuriection ever with us. I am as sure that .lesus
rose from the de?ul as T am that I exist. I a,m just
as sure that that man whom I call ( 'hrist had ac-
tually seen Ood, that He died and rose airain, as I
iVM of anv facts. Because I am sun- of this, it i.s

ft'

not necessary that I also see the Father. If I
steadfastly believe that He was actually with the
F.ithiir, then 't is as well as if I also had st»en Him.
Is theve no comfort in these rertt'cti<ms, in the times of
our sorrow ? You sit by your Hower-strewn i^raves,
and you loni^ for some token that will b»; an assur-
ance to you that your dead still exist, and yet feed
some interest in you. You would be satisfied with
very little, the falling of a shadow as from a
white, sunlit wing, a whisper .<)W and sweet, not
HO much heard as felt, a dream full of fond remem-

HII!

! »

I I i

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

brance, aii«l ot" tender interest — anytliiriu^ \vher<'l)y
you mi^ht know that they yet exist. But no signal
is raised from tlie distant shore o^' that waveless
sea, not even an echo conies haciv to vou in answer
to your call. You have the thoui^ht that so small a
thinfif would he <^ranted to you if there were any
future life.

But here ai^ain and always Jesus ;-; our help. He
has been throu<j:h the <jfates of death, and has re-
turned and shown Himself to men. He hath l)y
His resurrection " broui^ht life and innnortality to
li<,dit." H' we know Him, by f^raspiiiijj His hand we
fjrasp tlie hands of all our dead, in His voice we
recognize the voices of all the saints wlio have
passed on before, and are now stan<lin(r upon the
shiniui; shore. To know Him is as ^^ood as if we
knew aL(ain, or saw a<ifain all of our kindred who
have passed away. Let this mind be in you.

IV. We may spend a word upon the {|uestion, how
can we con»e to have this mind of Christ ?

1. The lirst thin<^ required is that we be rej^ener-
ated in our natures. The J)ivine S})irit alone can
put us in the way of attaininj^ such excellence.
No work of character-buildinj^ can put us in the
way of this ^reat good. The renew iiifj of the Holy
(Jhost nnist t^ive us the inspiration.

2. We must study the words and woiks of Jesus.
When an actor would present one of the plays of
Shakes] jcare on the stage, he chooses the character
lie (hisigns to personate, and then reads the play and

THE MIND OF CHRIST.

all the history of tlio tiiiics, and evoi'vtliiiiL; else
boarini^ on th«? period that will liclp him to fully
enter into the character of tlie person wlioni he has
chosen to personate. So do with (Jhrist, and thus
enter into His nnnd.

»S. Love Him. Love creates likeness. The man
who has lived with the wife of his youth in per-
fect harmony finds a ^rowini; likeness between him-
self an<l her. ( >thers mark the resemhlance. It is
1. t confined to speecli alone, hut extends to the ex-
pression of the countenance, the gestures, and gait,
and the form of the thoughts. So will love to
Christ greatlv advance the likeness to His thouglit.

ill!

IN CHRIST JESUS.

" Therefore if any man be in Christ he is a new creature ; old
things are passed away ; behold all things are l)econie new." —
2 Cor. V. 17.

OUR study i.s the sii^iiiHcance of the wortls
" in C'lirist.' The expression is conmion
witli Panl : " 1 knew a man in Christ ; " " There
is therefore now no condemnation to them that are
in (Jhrist." His writings all indicate an exceedinujly
intimate union between the Christian and Christ —
the saint and the Saviour. To know what it is to
" l)e in Cln'ist " is to understand perfectly tliis inti-
mate union.

I. Many ideas come up in illustration of the rela-
tion, a!\d we take first the derivation of life from
Christ.

To he in Christ is to derive life from Him.
Many ])assai'(!s contain this truth, as Gal. ii. 20 :
" I am crucified with Christ, neverthele.ss I live, yet
not I, liut Christ liveth in me." And also Col. iii.
3 : '■ Ye are dead and your life is hid with Christ in
(iod." And apiin, IMiil. i. 21 : " For me to live is
Christ." But there is one pa^sa;^^^ in which this

IN CHRIST JESUS.

.So

trutli is set forth in the most strikiiii,' manner. It
is in Cliapter xv. of tlie Gospel by John : '" 1 am
tlie true vine." " I am the vine, ye are tlie
i)ranches." " A))ide in Me and I in you. As the
hrancli cannot bear fruit (jt* itself, except it abide in
tlie vine; no more can ye, except ye al)ide in Me."

Now, whatever we find to be the true idea ol the
unien between the vine and the branches, tliat will
be at least one fact in the union between the believer
and Christ. It will illustrate at one point what is
meant bv bein^ " in Christ."

Studying' then the vine and branches, tiist of all
we see that the branches Ih'e in tfir rinc. They
derive all their life from it. Takin^^ then tlie be-
liever as a branch, we mus*" Hnd his life in Christ.
Now this certainly does not mean his natural life,
thou^di it is perfectly true that thi«; is from Christ,
but he has another life. He is anew creature. He
has what is peculiarly a believer's life — the life
which makes him a Chiistian. It is a life which
makes him a new creature, if he ev«r lived in
worldliness and sin. and if nijt, it makes him a new
oivature in contrast with the men <>f the world all
about him. Now this new life is tlie life which he
derives from Christ.

At this point two ideas at once arise: (\.) The
orii^in of this life; and (II.) The sustenance* of it, as
both are from Christ.

(T.) Now, as to the first there are tvv») ways in
which this new life may ori^irmt ;, and the tiguie of

1 !

IN CHHIST JESUS.

the vine and branches is a correct synihol, whetlier
we refer to the one ori(,'in or the other.

1. Fiist, tlien, this new life niay l)e<3rin with a per-
son's natural life. Horn in sin indeed, every one is
met at the ^ates of life by the henetit of the work
of ('l)rist — a f lee jrift — ptitting him ri<^dit with God,
and enablini^ liim to begin to live with all the Holy
Spirit's power anointing him for the new life. This
is all su<j:i>;ested indeed bv the branches and the
vine. The branches generally have never existed
but in the vine. They had their natural origin in it,
and liave grown with it steadily in the progress of
its ixrovvth. Now, here we have a suggestion con-
cerning Christian children. May tliey be in Clirist
from their earliest years just as the brandies are in
the vine { Assuredly. This is God's idea of Chris-
tian nurture. What we call conversion is simply
the beiiinning of a Christian course in life, but if
one could be in this course fnjui liis earliest years,
why need he know anything about this beginning ?
He would have begun to live in this way before
he knew that there was any other way. There are
many such persons. It was a revelation to them
when at five or six or ten years of age they dis-
covered that any one lived w'ithout prayer, or that
an}' one hated (iod instead of loving Him.

We are <litlident about accepting this as possible
ix'cause we feed very niodest about our success with
our own children, l^ut we nuiy undervalue the
irood our etibrt has been to our children. Let us

IN CIIKIST .JKSUS.

.S7

SL'i! what Christian nurture has tlour lor tlie avor-
a<;e child ot* our lioiues and our Sunday Schools.
Thev have as a result ol' it :

(1) A Ljjood general knowled<,'e of the scriptural
truth involved in a Christian profession, and also of
the duties reijuired in it.

(2) They have at heart all the rudinnuitary prin-
ciples of Christian nioi-ality, and they preserve at
lea>t a good outline of it in practice.

(.S) Their prejudices are so instiuctrd that they all
favor true reliLjion. Its battle is their battle.

(4) They retain the habit of prayer and feelings
of reverence. Again and again I have «>;one throu<j:h
large Sabbath School classes with the question, " JJo
you pray ?" and in ninety-nine cases out of a hun-
dred the answer is " Yes."

(5) Then ^hey have as much faith in Jesus as the
converts on the day of Pentecost had.

Now the nurture which has produced these re-
sults has not been a failure by any means. The
objects of it still lack, in that —

(1) Their application of Christ to their own lives
is not perfect.

(2) They do not make any open profession of Him
as their own Saviour and leader.

But what they have goi'S incaUnilalily farther
than what they lack, .uore wisdom in teaching,
and less bondaL^i to the idea of a sort (jf niechan-
ical conversion, from which they gather that they
may not be Christians until they have experi-

ill

IN CHRIST JKSUS.

eiiced a ^rcat phy.sical excitement coirespondin;^'
to soiiK.' otlier person's conversion, would hrin^
these children happily under the bond of a ptir-
sonal profession of Clirist. Then th«;y would ft-el
that they are Christians because Christ lets thoin
he, and their new life would date its orijjin cor-
rectly witli the origin of tlie natural life.

2. But this new life may originate in anothei-
way, and that is hy {grafting. Many Itranches in
a vine may have been en^raft«}d upon it. Thcie
are several processes, as buddin*;, etc., but I will
only refer to the more connnon method of i^raftin.;.

In this —

(1) First the old branch is cut completely olK It
must not be left attached by any portion of tlie
wood and bark. This illustrates the last clause (jf
the text, " Old things are passed away." This was
true in the case of every convert when Paul wrote.
Jewish law or pa^^an ceremonies and superstitions
all disappeared from the convert's faith and prac-
tice. It was a thorough emptying out. Now, it is
not true of many Christian children. It would be
found true somewhere in their family history if
you went back far enough, but it is not true in

. their personal history. Then there is

(2) Tlie insertion of this new scion, or the life
that is to control the fruit which is to be borne.

Now the new life originates by this engrafting
process in all cases where there is a marked conver-
sion from sin to holiness. In all great revivals the

■■\

IN emu ST JKsrs.

iniiltitiides brou^lit to the Saviour are branches
entrrafted into the vine.

There is a tendency to envy tliis type of conver-
sion. This is an error. The ^arden<n* j^mvi-s much
attention to the <frat'tinL( process. For a tinie liis
labor is expended more upon th(;se new scions than
upon the branches wliieh are l)earin^ i^ood fruit.
So we desire revivals. It is always the old story
over aLjain of the prodij^al son and his elder brother.
Note then —

(1) The weakness of the new .scion ; and

(2) The importance of its subseipient ;^nowth and
development ; and also

(8) That the branches which did not i\(hi(\ to be
replaced by enj^^rafting are really the most valuable
to the jrardener. He loses not the product of their
fruit for several years while the new scion is grow-
in*: larije enough to bear,

(II.) We come now to the second of the ideas
suf^<:;ested by the derivation of life from Christ l)y
the believer, as the branch derivinj^ its lif(3 from the
vine, that is, the sustenance of this new life.

Now this is equally from Christ as the origin of
it wa.s. The branch depends upon the vine every
moment. There is a circulation of the sap from
the remotest root fil)re up to the small«3st twig, and
through every trembling leaf. This circulation
constantly feeds the life in every part and causes
growth. Pluck away a leaf, cut down a i>ranch,and
in a little time it is withered, dry, and dead. It can-
not live if cut off from its support in the vine.

iitll

IN CHRIST .lESrs.

No mon; can tlii^ Christian if cut oil" from ('lu-ist.
His new lift; is liidden witli Christ. It feeds upon
Him. Jt is not of the world. It cannot run with
it. It nnist be separate. Sometimrs streams in
wliich the water of one is darker than tliat in the
other flow toi^a-tlier in the sanii; cliaiuicl. The divitl-
Uvf line can he traced for a lonix distance down after
they join. A noticeable case of this kind is that of
the two rivers in Switzerland, the llhone and the
Aarve. The waters of Lake Leiiian are of a beau-
tiful, trans])arent, deep blue color. Th»'ir outlet is
the Rhone river, into whose channel they rush like
a torrent. The Aarve is fed bv meltinLJ- <daciers,
which i^rind alon^ the rocks in the mountain side.
breaking and crushing them, and the sediment
mingles with the water until it seems like li(juid
mortar rushin<; thnnmh its narrow chaiuiel. When
they meet, the waters will not mingle. Tin; })ure,
virgin waters of the Rhone refuse to be conttimi-
nated by the touch of so vile a consort. i\nd so, as
far as the eye can see, they flow on side by side
without mingling, and tourists go out to look at the
remarkable spectacle. Those waters represent the
life of the Christian and the life of the world flow-
ing on side by side. They must touch each other
as long as human life beats the earth in its onward
march, but they cannot intermingle. They can never
be one, beciuse they fiow from different sources.
Refine the world and sin as you will, you cannot
make of them piety toward God. Refined worldli-

IN cmilST JKSfS.

iicss is not rt'li;jfi()n. It' any ono trirs to l)l('n(l
tlieso two lu! i,M)(',s liiiiist'lt' over into tlic strrum of
worMIiness,

Stiinil >iL(ain huside thf clniinu'l into which thoso
two Swiss rivers liave Mown. It' a ton oi- nioro
of the bhit.' water (foas over into the <4rey, muihiy
water, it is at once alisorhed and h)st without
makiuLj any impression. Tiie ,L,'rey water is no more
part' ))ecause of it. IJut if a ton of the foul wate-r
sliould i^^o over into the hhie. it couM hf ch'arly
traced tliere. It wouM not l>e al»s(^rl>ed and h)st as
in the former case. S(j true religion hjses itself
wlirn it mixes with worldliness. All idea of eleva-
ting,^ the world to religion l)y goiniL,^ into its ways is
a delusion. The Christian will he dra^^ij^e*! down
and lost, hut the worhl will not he drawn U{) to
prayer and duty and self-sacrilice. And wIhmi, on
the other hand, worldliness runs over into the
C-hurcli, it shows itself there. It is not ahsorhed
and lost. It does not become i^ood hy association.
A worldly Church is easily known.

Let, then, the world go its way. It is not Christ ;
it is n(jt of liim. But the Christian has a peculiar
life, the support of which is his constant commu-
nion witli Christ. The leaf cut oft' from the tree
dies. So the Christian cut oi\' from Christ ceases to
live the ueculiar life of a Christian. I^et him lose
the all-pervading persuasion of Christ's great love;
let liim forget the sacrifice by winch he was re-
deemed ; let him cease to dwell upon Christ as an

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WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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IN CHRIST JESUS.

over present, loving, helping friend ; lot him no
longer pray unto Christ, and so touch Him with his
own throbbing heai't — his spiritual life is gone. Ho
is no longer in the true sense a Christian. Ho
may retain the outward forms of religion and the
services of moralitv, but he is a deail leaf, cut off
from the vine and lying upon the grcjund.

What then is the source and origin of our re-
liLHon ? Is it a union with Christ? Are we in
Him in the sense of havinjr a life derived at first
from Him, and still constantly sustained by Him !*
Or have we a reliirion because it is fashionable ?
l)ecause we desire greater influence than we could
have without it ? or because by it we gain admis-
sion into better society ? Oh, let us be sure about
this. Let us have a religion which is, indeed, life
in Christ. A religion of refined, exquisite worldli-
ness will i ever tide us over i^reat swellin<:j waves
of sorrow, nor bear us up in death's dark hour.

II. I mention, second, that to be in Christ is to be
united to Him for perfect service, by our undivided
faculties and energies.

This truth is set forth in the figure which repre-
sents Christ as a human body, and the Christian
people as the members of which this body is com-
posed. (See 1 Cor. xii. from 20th verse to end )

Now, here are three ideas :

1. Each member is in the body, no matter how
humble. Every true member of the Church may
say, " For me to live is Christ," no nuittv^r how

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liuiiiMo he is. Tliore is a difierence, certainly, in
the (li^rnitv of the ditJerent members of the body.
Yet ev^ery one can claim identity with the man.
Tiike the most honored man on earth. Take Ins
least toe — that is so little honored that you at first
think it is a little vulgar even to mention it here —
yet it can lift itself up and say, "I am the King
ur President.'' The iinger-nail even may say the
same. So may any hair which the next minute
will he caught in the wind and carried away. Let
us remember this. No nuitter where in the Church
we serve, we are still of the body, and may say,
" For me to live is Christ."

Some members are very useful. Dr. North's man,
"Terry," at Clifton Springs Sanitarium, attending
men in l)athing, remarked about the human hand
as made ditlerent from the termination of the fore-
arm in any other animal. "Made to assist," he said,
lie had for years done nothing but help men in the
various baths, but this observation had taught him
that much Christianity. As by an oljject lesson 1h)
had learned that men are made to serve.

The blind preacher, Milburn, told ])r. Nelles tliat
he would rather be blind than deaf. The ear opened
the soul to the highest harmonies, the music of the
human voice, the words of friendship and hjve, the
ciuTents of active thought and intelligence. He
would rather be left in darkness to imagine the beau-
ties of the inanimate world than to liavo his soul
closed up against the currents of living thought.

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But after all, the eye is a nio.st honored member.
It is tlie anohited teacher of the man. It is liis
heaven-lit^dited sun ; liis lamp to ((uide.

It is certainly f^rand to be an eye or ear in the
Church. The eye receives revelations for the
whole man. To stand like Moses and Elijah on
awful Horeb's top, and receive the unfoldin*,^ reve-
hxtions, whether on tables of stone •'•raven bv the
finger of God, or in the voices of the unimaginable
thunder robed in wide, expanding sheets of fhime,
while the furious night strides across trembling
lieights ! Oh ! it is glorious thus, as an eye, to re-
ceive revelations from God ; an(j it is no less gloiious
to be an apostolic hand, shaking the l)ars of prisons
while jailors sleep, and in one's own blood to lay
the foundations of new systems that shall lead the
civilization of coming ages. But what if we may
not rise to such distinguished service ? Life is
short, and the best and highest that any man can
gain or reach, either in the Church or the world, is
neither great nor very eminent. But if Christ will
take the cup of cold water given in love to a faint-
ing fellow-man as given to Him ; if He will esteem
the cool hand laid upon the fevered brow of a sick
child, as laid upon His pierced and bleeding brow,
aching and throbbing in an agony of pain ; if the
melting compassion that hands bread to the hungry
feeds His famished body fainting and falling upon
the mountain path ; if the stooping tenderness tliat
weeps in a prison cell with the condemned criminal

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over his bitterly lamented crime is poured into ili^.
heart, breaking under the burden of the whole
world's sorrow ; oh, then, the grandest eminence
I can reach is to give up my feet to run on errands
of mercy for Him ; my hands to lift the burdens
from IJis pierced and bleeding hands ; my tongue to
speak words of sympathy to Him to whom none
spoke words of sympathy in His hours of deepest
darkness.

2. Ancjther comforting idea is that all these mem-
bers serve eciually. In verses 28 and 29, there is a
distribution of various offices. What we are to
notice is that those offices only mean different kinds
of service, to which different characters were adapted
bv nature. They were not dignities. The most
perfect equality prevailed among the members of
the early Church. They were all of the priest-
hood. The Jewish idea of a wide division between
the priests and the people had been suc^.eeded by a
Church in which every member was a priest conse-
crated to God. Anyone might equally with another
take the lead in the sacrament.

H then we are in Christ, we shall equally serve in
Japan or among the Indians, or as the teacher of
the humblest class, or by the bed of the sick, or
nursing a child, or scouring in the kitchen. This
we claim if holiness is to be written upon the pots.
(Zechariah xiv. 20, 21.)

3. The third idea is that service does appropriately
represent the union between Christ and the Chris-

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tian. Service is tlio true idea of sanctitication. En-
tire service is entire sanctification. (Romans xii. 1,
2.) The body is perfectly sanctified by being per-
fectly given up to (jlod. It is not clianged by
the Holy Spirit. The first verse represents the
sanctification of the body, and the second that of
tlie mind.

There are several planes of experience. One is
that of " I'm saved." Many in religious meetings
never speak of anything else.

Well, why not say that over and over? At that
stage there is nothing else or l)etter to say. Some
ridicule the hymn, " 1 love Jesus, I love Jesus."
But what else is there to say if not to say this over
and over again ?

A higher stage. Go to one of our charitable
homes, and you will not find it saying, "I feel," but it
will show a world of experience. Is the tear which
falls because the Home for Incurables is not large
enough to receive all applicants, or -because some
ragged boy, an orphan, cannot gain admittance to
the Boj's' Home, not as much an evidence of sancti-
fication as the ability to talk of being made very
happy ?

I have no fear of losing heaven if I can have the
sanctification which is proven by perfect service.
I do not any more think about my getting into
heaven at all. I do think about making my life so
pure Mud good that it will be helpful and will appear
lelitrious also. The ijettinff me into heaven is God's

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liusiiie.ss, not mine. Indeed, if I do my utmo.st I do
not even know it' I care whether He takes me to
hoaveti or not. I know what Wesley says about
" servant " and " son." I despise a religion, call it
holiness, or sanctitication, or what you will, which
<loes not make a man's life full of fruitfulness, so
that poverty because of him is le.ss hitter, and
sickness is le.ss painful, and death less dark and
lonely.

Ill The believer is in Christ as the different
st(;nes are in a building. In illustration of this, see
Kph. ii. 19-22 ; 1 Peter ii 5 ; 1 Cor. iii. It).

Here is a double metaphor. Christians are a
household — the household of Christ. But the house-
hold must inhabit a house. Therefore Christians are
a house. But if we take it as a simple metaphor, we
get at strictly correct ideas of truth.

This fiijure sets forth several thouirhts.

1. Each believer is one stone in a great building.

Then the Christian in this world is simply a
stonedresser in a vast stoneyard, where many are
laboring, each upon his own piece. When the
Windsor Hotel was building, great blocks were im-
porte<i, from twelve to sixteen feet long, and were
dressed into fluted, round and square columns.
Men stood around them and admired ; but the work-
ii)an was engaged upon his own piece and thought
little of the plan of the whole cfreat buildiiifr.

So the Christian's interest lies in the working out
of his own character.
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Now in this stoneyard of the world there are at
least three kinds of workmen. I go where they are
buildinfj the o-reat Parliament Buildin^^s in the
park, and talk with the men dressing the blocks of
stone to be built into the walls, I ask this man,
" What are you doing ? " He says, " I am working
for $1.50 a day, sir." Now that man represents
those whose idea of life is simply to get as much
money as they can. " Wliat are you doing ? " " Oh,
I made $10,000, $20,000, or 8100,000 last . year."
That is what they are doing.

Take the next man. " What are you doing ? "
" I am dressing this block of granite, sir. It is to go
into the Parliament Buildings. I don't know where,
but I am dressing it according to the pattern drawn
out on this piece of paper." Now he represents a
Christian whose life is not filled with the money he
makes. His thought takes a hio-her ranrje. He
lives for what he can make of himself. What is he
doing ? He is trying to keep the image of God in
his own soul, to lift his character up by the imi-
tation of all that is grand and noble ; but he is not
the highest type of a Christian.

I pass on to the third workman and I ask, "What
are you doing ? " Note, these three are working
upon blocks just alike in size and pattern. This
third man replies, "I am helping to make the great
Parliament Buildings." Now, there is a Christian,
but he is one whose views have a higlier range than
even the former. His thoughts are not confined to

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the single piece of work lie luis in hand at present.
They range over the whole vast and grand structure
of which he is shaping only an humble part. He has
seen not only the plan of his own character, but
God's great phm for the world.

A few can thus enter into God's great plans. It
makes life certainly more easy, and doubtless more
noble.

Bu^ the Christian who cannot work thus is still
able to work upon his own piece. He can keep
himself. He doubtless will talk chietiy about his
conversion, his sanctification, his temptations and
trials and hopes. All this is individual. It is only
stone dressing, but it is necessary. As you can have
no grand buildings without stone dressing, so you
can have no errand structure of society without
the dressing of individual character.

Some people look so much at the plan that they
do not dress their own stone. So are those who
talk about the progress of civilization, and the on-
ward movement of the race ; and they themselves
have neither faith nor love. My father told me to
hold the light so that I could see what he was doinfif.
I couldn't understand what he did, especially in
making the many slats for the shutters of our new
house, I never having seen a slatted shutter. His
words come to me now. Christianity says, " See
what I am doing." I look, and lo, pagan nations
arc rising into the light of the gospel. I look again,,
and lo, poverty is fed, orphanage no longer weeps,
sorrow's tears are dried.

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2. A second tlioui^lit is tliat the archituct places
each of these stones in its phice. No stone knows
where it is to ^^o, until by the plan the builder be-
•jjins to place them tojijether. " To whom comin^^"
" III whom ye are also builded toi^ether." My
cliaracter concerns myself; my place in relation to
the whole, concerns the architect. I am not to
think much about what the jxreat buiMinir will l)e,
but I shouhl think constantly about what I myself
shall be in character. My duty is to bring out the
utmost in beauty and worth in myself. He will
give to each his place in the temple here and here-
after according as it pleases Him. The true stone
thinks not whether he shall be a highly figured
stone to adorn the cornice toward which all eyes
shall turn in admiration, or shall be a huge block
made to endure for ages lying away down in the
foundations, out of sight, but supporting the whole ;
whether a turned and fluted column he shall stand
boldly out in the portico, or with rough jagged
edges, buried up within the walls, he shall give
strength and body to the whole side of the building.
If he can be sure that he is where the architect wills,
it is of little consequence to him where or how the
years of his life be spent. In our great Parliament
Buildings, at Ottawa, the stone which reflects more
glory upon the great pile than any other is the
foundation stone laid by the Prince of Wg-les when
passing through the country in 1860. It bears an
inscription commemorating the event. But the

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101

jivuTfiiije visitor never sees tliat stone. It is .-iway
down in tlio l»asenient, and is reaolicd tlin)ULi;li loni^
ami (lark passai^es wholly uninterestinLT, and no
one would ever think of <,'oini^ there unless <;uido(l
hy some one familiar with the place. 80 it is in
Christ's threat l)uildin(,^ Often some obscure stone,
spending,' its life down in some dark passage, is most
precious to Christ.

But some one must be first. Even in the Church
some stone nmst rest on tlie jjiddy and danirerous
summit, and it may be, as indeed it ought to be,
more gracious than the most obscure ; only we
will make sure that if we are in Christ, our onlv
thought is for the glory of His whole boily, not the
fame of ourselves ; the splendor of the whole house,
not the attention paid to us as a particular stone in
it; and if we can V)e sure that this is our spirit, then
we will have proof that we are in Christ no matter
how high up we may climb.

We must remember that we cannot always, or
even often, understand the i^i'eatness of God's designs.
The universe of life is worth more to God than any
individual in the world. True, the hairs of j'our
head are all numbered; but God is great enough to
work on grander plans than those contained in any
human life. He moves toward a redeemed race.
The idols shall be all broken down. Wrouir and
fraud shall come to an end. Truth and righteous-
ness shall be stamped upon every brow. All tears
shall be wiped from all faces. The earth shall

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keep jul)iloc to^'ethor. Universal rest and peace
sliall reiofn,

3. A tliird tliouf^ht is that this house so built is a
temple. " Unto an holy temple in the Lord." " Ye
are the temple of the Lord." '• Ye also as lively
stones are hiiilt up a spiritual house." That is, if
the whole huildiuLj is consecrated, then every stone
in it is consecrated, and ever}? part of the life of
every stone. All of every saint's life is to be ser-
vice and praise, — the office, the parlor, the ship. Do
nothini,^ if not sure that it is acceptable to God. All
must be as tit for temple service as song, and prayer,
and sacrament.

It will follow, that to be in Christ is,

1. To be personally holy. " Holiness becometh
thine house, O Lord,"

2. To be surrendered wholly to His glory. After
all the beautifully-dressed pieces in the Parliament
Buildings were put in their appropriate places, I
do not suppose that since the splendid front was
completed, any one has ever in passing along, given
himself up completely to the contemplation of any
particular stone ; brt again and again men have
said, "What a splendid building!" They have ad-
ndred the structure as a whole. Each stone actually
surrendered its beauty, and lost its individuality in
contributing to the beauty of the whole.

3. He is safe in Christ.

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A MAN IS MADE \)Y WHAT IIR
THINKS ABOUT.

"Think on those things." — Phil. iv. S.

LET US first of all rocof^nize the fact that one
* must think about somethinf^. A sit. am Hows
without either knowing it or intendin'^ it. The
wind blows without any purpose or i Ian, jmd <^o a
mnn's thoMorhts rush on, leapinuf from Oiic thinjr
to another, whether he will or no. It io the result
of uoth nature and habit that tne hun.an mind shall
constantly have some manner of thoughts passing
through it. When it is not under any control it
just drifts along like a stick in a stream, striking
upon whatever happens to be in the way. If you
could gather together every image that passes over
the mind in an hour, what a motley assemblage there
would be ! And how many that no one would wil-
lingly own as the children of his will ! No one would
say concerning them, " I intended to think that."
But they exist, because if the mind be not of a set
purpose, filled with good thoughts, it will of itself
catch upon something that is passing, and it may be
rude or grotes(jue, or even vile. And it is because

104 A MAN IS MADE BY WHAT HE THINKS AliOlJT.

it is much easier to allow the mind to drift in its
own way than to d'rect it that we find it difficult to
read a hook and keep ourselves intent upon what
it contains, or to listen to a sermon without distrac-
tion. Take the hour spent in this service. Ffo..
hard to keep everythintr out of our minds but hymn
and prayer and lesson and sermon ! How often we
sit the hour throuirh without jjettinof one distinct
impression from the service ! It is because our
minds will constantly have some thou<xhts, and it
is easier to allow them to catch up whatever comes
than to confine them to what is properly broui;ht
before them.

II. Let us pass on to consider that a person has
it in his power to determine what he will think
about. Certainly the Bible teaches that men have
this power. The text plainly implies that a man
can think upon certain things if he chooses to do so.
Then there is the exhortation, " Keep thy heart
with all diliirence." This means that a man can
control his thoughts. It certainly means more than
that; but this it does mean, that though difficult,
yet it is possible for a,nyone to decide of what man-
ner his thoughts shall be. The same is implied in
that discourse of our Lord (Matt, xv.) which teaches
that it is not what enters into the mouth but what
comes out of the heart that defiles a man, for out of
the heart proceed evil thoughts.

We also find in experience that men do determine
their own habitual thoughts. Take five sons of the

A MAN IS MADK IIY WHAT HE THINKS AP.OUT. 10.')

sfinie parents. They are broui^ht Uj) and udueateid
in as nearly the same manner as cliildren in one
family can be. One of these sons ij^oes into mut-
cantile life. In a short time Ids habitual thouLjjhts
are of the various f]joods and articles used in daily
life by the masses of men. He thinks about mar-
kets, scales of protit, the laws of trade, competition,
ami such like thinj^s. Another becomes a manufac-
turer, and his thoui^hts run wholly upon wants and
their supply, upon the creation of new wants and
machinery, upon importations of materials, and e.K-
poitation of implements. Another enters politics,
an<l he soon thinks of nothing but parties and
places and elections, and the manai^ement of rivals
and of the masses of the people. One becomes a
minister and is full of thooloi^y and the exposition of
Scripture, and of the moral and spiritual life of mi'U.
The fifth is a sailor, anil thinks of carii^oes and
storms, and ports and distant lands, and latitudes
and lonfjitudes. Now, did each of these men come
involuntarily upon his current of hal)itual thoui^ht,
in each so different from that in every other, or was
it the result of his own choice ? Most assuredly he
determined for himself upon what thoughts his
mind should be most en2[a<;ed durin;; his life.

But that is on a large scale. Bv choosini-- a cer-
tain pursuit, 'without any thought about the habits
it will necessirily form, he determines in one act
the habitual ttiouijfht.s of a lifetime. Tliat is true

enough.

But what is true on a larije scale is also

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106 A MAN IS MADE P.Y WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT.

true on a small one. Either of these men might
have chosen some other profession. And so on any
(lay or hour he may turn out one thouf^ht and take
up another by an act of his will. We are doing this
all the time. You see your boy leave the music, or
the attractive games and conversation in the parlor,
and go away to his own quiet room alone. He says,
" I have my to-morrow's lessons to get up." A man
rises from the comfortable surroundings of his draw-
ing-room, and the attractive company of his wife
and children, and goes away saying, " I have an
enoragement on business." What is the fact in either
of these cases but that the individual determines
to put some thoughts out of his mind, and to put
others in ? Every person who has tried to live a
pure and spotless life knows that again and again he
does force some thoughts out of his mind and bring
others in. In fact we are doing it all the time. It
is only when we are disposed to soothe our con-
science, and yet indulge ourselves in idle dreaming,
or worse still, in covetous, or even foul antl lustful
imaginings, that we say we cannot determine what
thoughts we will have. A man will perhaps indulge
himself in lewd thoughts, and say he cannot help it ;
but if his clerk or errand boy spends the time
dreaming when he ought to be applying himself,
that same man will treat him as though he had per-
fect power to think of what he will and of what he
ought. We feel and acknowledge this power with
regard to each other, but only doubt it in relation

A MAN IS MADE HY WHAT HE THINKS AHOUT. 107

to God. This much only may be said. We cannot
keep any thought from obtruding into our minds,
l)ut we can prevent its reinaining there. A burglar
may enter our house unknown to us ; but we liave
power to arise and drive him out. 80 it is with
our thoughts.

III. Notice now that what a person thinks about
will determine what his character and acts will be.
The habitual thoughts give their color and impress
to a man's whole character. They make him like
themselves, and determine the value of everything
he does in life. Homer sani; his " Iliad." It was
adapted to the civilization of the time, a story of
battles and heroes; a picture of passion, and plunder
and blood. Alexander, afterwards called the ( rreat,
read it, and the images of that poem lived in his
mind and became the subject of his habitual
thoughts, intensified by the example of his great
and warlike father. The result was that Alexander
conceived and carried out the grandest schemes of
war, bloodshed and conquest that the world
has ever yet seen. Then in turn, his great career
wrought upon the mind of the Roman, Julius
Caesar, who brooded over that picture of martial
pomp, and victory and glory, until he rushed into
the same bloody stream, and thinking of victories on
the field and triumphs at Rome, devoted himself to
a life of slaughter and oppression. And Charles
XII. of Sweden, from the same source derived a
similar inspiration, and in acts of a like nature

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108 A MAN IS .MA UK BV WHAT HE THINKS AiiOUT.

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wrouolit out the problem of his eartlily existence.
This law liolds f^ood everywhere. Two boys
receive the same education. They enter upon the
same casing in life — say, that of an engineer. One
thiidss only of proHt, the money that repays his skill
and t(;il. The other is constantly thinkini,^ of a more
pntV'ct application of mechanical laws, how he may
raise o-reat w^eijj^hts with the least tax upor, human
stren^^th, how he may most easily reprove vast
masses of matter. It requires no deep wisdom to
discern how widely the character of the two will
differ in ten years' time, and upon what widely
differino- works their skill will be employed.

Some think that the surroundings and not the
thoughts determine character. John Ruskin tells of
a man, a great philosopher indeed, wdio travelled all
day upon the lake of Geneva. His mind was
absorbed upon some favorite subject and he saw
nothinuf. At night he asked where Lake Leman
(CJeneva) was. Certainly surrounding^s did not make
his character. In what does the man Cetewayo,
the Zulu King, differ from an English statesman ?
Why only in his thoughts. The English people
expected to see in him a naked savage. But before
he entered the kingdom they dressed him in the
uniform of an English soldier. He received that
change into his thoughts, and by so much he became
an Englishman. Now suppose he had staj^ed in
iMiiiland long enough for all his thoughts to have
become the same as an Englishman's thoughts, he
would no longer have been a mere savage .

A MAN IS MADE BY WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT. 109

If a person does not subject his thoui^hts to any
control, bub allows them to drift at random, his
character will be weak, his acts will have liltle
force, or energy, or inspiration in them, his life will
be made up of words and acts of the lowest form,
chiefly of a routine character, his hands doing and
his tongue saying just what they have learned to vlo
and say as a habit. But where great and noble
thoufjhts throb in the mind, they are sure to burn
their way out, and blaze forth in grand and thrilling
words, and throw upon the surface of life far reach-
inji acts char<red with the destiny of men and of
nations — such as live in men's memories forever !
A man's thoughts always make him what he is.

IV. Let us now see what thoughts make the
truest and best character. " Think on these
things." The things mentioned are such as arc
honest, true, just, pure, lovely, of goo<l report, virtue,
praise. These are the leading Christian virtues —
the sum of all true morality and purity.

1. Let a person think much of the intrinsic
excellence of these things. Cold is the most costly
of metals. But in a land where there is no com-
merce, and therefore no need of a medium of
exchange, gold would haye yery little yalue. Or
even in a land where it is so abundant as to be
picked up everywhere, it would have no value.
But iron has an intrinsic yalue. However abun-
dant, there are many things for which it is
absolutely necessary. Men could hardly get along

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110 a man is made by what he thinks about.

without it. So it is of " these things." They are
of value in themselves. Take the molality you
cultivate because it is necessary to get you into
good society, take the honesty you cherish, because
honesty is the best policy, the truth you speak,
because falsehood is sure to get entangled in its
own ropes.

M3^self and a friend were conversing about
modesty, and noting how well some men pushed
themselves forward by pure force of impudence.
" But " said he, " a man must keep his modesty for
his own sake. A time will come when each person
will be a complete man on the plan he has chosen,
and no ^ne at that time can afibrd to be without
any good thing in his character."

2. Think much of the effect of these things on
one's self.

3. Think much of their effect upon society. A
man is on a low plane indeed who makes himself
only the burden of his thoughts, even though the
chief thought be the salvation of his own soul.
Everyone is bound to think somewhat of the good
he may do to others, and the influence he may leave
behind him. But truth, honesty, justice and purity
are the chief pillars on which society depends.
Without them, love, the great bond of union among
men, cannot exist. Take them out and let men
feel that there is no honesty or truth in voluntary
transactions, and no justice in public affairs, and
no purity in the social intercourse of life, what

A MAN IS MADE BY WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT. Ill

have you left ? Savagery. The civilized man has
i^'iven up the thoughts of civilization and Christian-
ity, and has taken up the thoughts of the savage.
The name of the enlightened state may remain, but
the plunder and lust, and fraud and wrong of the
savaue condition wholly prevail. History tells of
the Northern barbarians having overrun the Empire
of Rome, and brought the world back to the savage
state. Why, the fact is that Rome under the Em-
pire had retrograded from its former civilization and
had become barbarian. Goth and Vandal, in the
days of the overthrow of the Empire, were as
civilized as the Roman himself. Rome had ceased to
have the thoughts of honesty, truth and justice and
purity which make up a civilized state, and liad all
the thoughts of plunder and fraud and lust of
falsehood that belonfj to the savajje.

4. Aojain think of the obliofation to God to culti-
vate these virtues. They are of God, Tiiey are
God-like. As we cultivate them we become like
Him.

V. These are the thouorhts which the reli<2rion of
Christ puts into a man's mind. No one can feel
that strongest of controlling influences, the love of
Christ, without finding that the thought of these
things fills him. Religion is the onl}^ thing that
can keep possession of a man's thoughts all the
time. But how about the duties of life, business,
society ? This is explained in two ways.

1. These thoughts are just the thoughts that
belong to business and society.

112 A MAN IS MADE BY WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT.

2. When a man turns from business his dan<jjer
beij^ins. If he cati keep trutli and liunesty while at
work, he still has the care of things pure, lovely, of
ujood re|)()rt, afterwards. Two men are enixaiTed
upon tlieir book accounts, straightening and balan-
cing tlieir affairs. One is an infidel and blasphemer,
guilty of transgressing every law of the decalogue,
the (jther a pure-minded, honest, true, earnest Chris-
tian. But in that work, for the time being, one is as
good as the other. But they cease, for rest, for a
night, for a holiday. Now the difference between
them appears in what they do in that interval or
break in regular duty. Settlers fill up a township
or county. They build their houses upon elevated
places, and cultivate the dry lands. These give
them no troul)le. But a marsh lies along the whole
side of the countv. Everyone thinks about the
drainage an<l redemption of that waste, for all know
that it will breed fevers. All are concerned to save
themselves from the waste. So in life.

THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE

INTENTION.

1 1

! 1

"The light of the l)ody is the eye ; if therefore thine eye be
single, thy whole hody shall be full of light. But if thine eye be
evil, tliy whole body shall befall of darkness." — xMatt. vi. 22, 23.

'"T^HIS is a strong metaphor, " If thine eye be
X single," that is, if it be whole, or well, or in
perfect health. In that case it will see objects
naturally and as they are. Or it may also be taken
to mean if the eye be fixed steadily upon one
definite point, there will be no confu.sion in the im-
pression received. The object will be distinctly dis-
cerned. When in either of these senses the eye is
single, the " whole body is full of light." That
means that each portion of the body acts and per-
forms its part as well as if it were itself an eye. The
traveller looks along the path in which he desires to
go, and his feet walk straight on in that path. They
keep to it as well as if they saw it for themselves.
The builder sees the nail he would hit, and the hand
brings the blow down upon it with as much precision
as if the hand itself saw the nail. The eye takes in
the true condition of things, and the tongue speaks
words appropriate to that condition. It is the
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114 THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

IMP

.student who tinds his library all in confusion, and
his tongue directs that order be restored. It is a
hidy who meets one child crying in the street, an<l
speaks words of comfort and encoui-agement to him ;
but seeing another breaking a window, she warns
him that he will be punished for his trespass. Truly
when the eye sees correctly, every part of the body
does its special work as well as if each organ saw
for itself. " The whole body is full of light."
This is something which we are proving in the ex-
perience of every day. It is so common that we
have to stop and think before we can realize the fact.
But now, what if the eye be evil ? This means
diseased. In some affections of the eye it sees things
double. Sometimes it cannot fix correctly the dis-
tance of an object from the observer, or, perhaps,
it is impossible to keep it bent steadily upon any
one thing. It is all the time roving from one thing
to another. Tender these circumstances the whole
body is full of darkness. Its movements will be un-
steady, or they will not be directed as though the
person understood the real condition of things. The
hand will move as if it does not know what it wants
to touch, or it will strike at a man who is perfectly
innocent, mistaking him for another near by w^ho is
guilty of some offence. The tongue will begin a sen-
tence in one vein and end it in another, or it will
upbraid a sick man for not being at work. It will
accuse a man of drunkenness when he is perfectly
sober. Certainly such words appear as if the tongue

THE SINGLE EYE, THE SlMPLK INTENTION. U

could not see. It is in total darkness wlsen it speaks
so far aside from what the circumstances justify.
And so in ei^ual darkness the foot will bei^in to walk
towards one object, and will brin<,' up at another.
When the eye is thus out of health, there is no even-
ness in any movements of the body. The person
seems like one who does not know what he wants to
do, or who does not know his own mind. All the
way through, the body is like one who has no ijuid-
ing light. The whole body is full of darkness, be-
cause the eye is not right.

Now, this is the physical side of this metaphor.
But it has a spiritual side. What is there in our
moral or spiritual life that may be taken as the ana-
logue to the facts just described ? It is plain that
the eye stands for the intentions of the heart. A
man's intentions are to his soul what the eye is to
the body. This statement has very strong support.
In one sermon Mr, Wesley says, " The eye is the in-
tention ; what the eye is to the body, the intention
is to the soul." (Sermons, Vol. I., 250 p.) He must
have said this upon thorough conviction, and as a
settled truth with him, for in another sermon he
says, " What the eye is to the body, that the inten-
tion is to all the words and actions." (Sermons, Vol.
L, 104 p.) Dr. Adam Clark gives us the same idea.
He says : " Our blessed Lord uses the sound eye as
a metaphor to point out simplicity of intention."

If then we are to carry out in the spiritual life
the figure of the eye used in this text, we must

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IM'> TJiE sin(;le eye, the simple intention.

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beyin with a .sin^lo iiituntioii. The iiiL'anin;^ ui the
pa.s.sa<,^c is better expresstMl by the word simple. It
is tlie same idea conveyed by the Latin .siiupiex, that
is, unmixed, uncompounded, simple, as when a
chemist speaks of a simple substance, or a musician
of a simple sound.

This intention must be directed wholly towards
God. It is an eye that looks only toward heaven,
and wishes only to L(ain it. Now, such an intention
must be wholly •yood. There can be no admixture
of evil in it. It needs no apology. It is insulted
and wronged by any defence.

It is (juite unnecessary to start any question as to
such an intention being followed by appropriate con-
duct. It is impossible that it be otherwise. It must
be followed by appropriate conduct. Talk about the
contrary ! As well talk about a fountain not being
foUow^ed by any stream, or a railroad terminus not
liaving any railroad, or a mother's love not followed
by any gifts to her child. There would never
be an act in the world if it were not for an inten-
tion pi-eceding it. The intention creates the act.
The intention is the end for which the act exists,
as the terminus is the end of a riilroad, or good
gifts are the fruit of affection. So this simple
intention will, without fail, throw up out of itself
acts of its own nature. It will lead the whole life
in obedience to itself. A rope-walker fixes his eye
upon some point before him, and the eye controls his
step, and keeps him steady. Some can never walk

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THE SINGLK EYE, THE Si.MI'l.E INTENTION. I 17

over a Htroain, nr upon a hif^h wall. OtluTs can
walk as well in such a place as over the face of a
hroad prairie. Tlie secret is wliolly in what they
look at. No person could walk in these places if
he looked down, or around him ; he must fix his at-
tention upon one point, and his whole movement
will tend toward that spot.

So let a Christian have a simple intention. Let it
keep his thouj^ht turned toward God and heaven,
and he will he, with regard to such works as lie in
the road to heaven, or which a man goin<,' to heaven
oui^ht to perform, like one whose eye is sound, and
whose w iiole body is full of light. His conduct
will all he like that of a man who is more
intent upon gaining heaven than upon realizing
anything that thi.s world can give. Each separ-
ate act will seem to be done with the aim
and intention of fjettino; to heaven. There is
a separate intention for each individual act, but
these intentions take their character from the one
ruling intention of the man's life.

" All motives bowiti;.^ to one leacUr hip
And aiding its emprise, are one with it —
The same in trend, the same in tfiinintis.
All the I'lw motives th it obey thj law.
And aid the work of one above them all,
Do holy Service, and fulfil the end
For which they were designed."

Now, this is just the case W'ith an earnest Chris-
tian man. The one strong, simple aim or intention

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118 THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

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of his life exercises a controlling influence, and the
distinct intention out of which each separate act
springs into being has its character from that ori-
ginal ruling intention. As in a general way he
intends to live for God, so in each act he intends to
live for God.

The consequence of this is that he is like one
whose body is full of light. All his acts are as if
in beginning each one of them, he had suddenly and
just then conceived the idea of pleasing God.

The result is that in God's sight they are perfect.
To Him they are as if perfectly done. Defects of
body and mind may cause many things which he
does to appear far from what they ought to be, but
in the judgment of hea'^en they are just what they
were intended to be, and that is perfect. Is not this
true ? Was not Abraham esteemed by God as if he
had actually offered up Isaac ? Did not David
receive commendation the same as if he had built
the temple ? TTow about the widow who could give
only two mites ? And Mary who only poured a
box of precious ointment upon her Lord's head ?
Did not God hold each of these as worthy as if they
had actually accomplished all that their love
prompted them to do ? Assuredly He did.

And men in their best moments also give a man
credit for all the good he intended to do. A poor
farmer gave a dish of cold water to Artaxerxes, the
Persian king. Now, that was not much to do, but
the king saw in the act q. love that would be willing

THE SINGLE KYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION. 119

to do much fj^reater thinpr.s, and he rewarded the poor
man witli the gift of a fijolden (goblet. You remem-
ber that more than five hundred years ago the Eng-
hsh king took Calais, after a siege of a year. He
ottered to spare the lives of the citizens if six of
their chief men would come out to the city's gate,
with a halter upon each neck, and surrender to him,
to be immediately executed. Six of the first citi-
zens so came out to him, and but for the kind inter-
cession of a queen, less barbarous than her husband,
this monstrous sentence would have been infiicted.
They were ordered to death, but the queen came on.
just in time to save them. The men did not die, but
has not history honored them as if they had actually
died ? Have not children wept over them with the
same sympathy as if they had been cruelly put to
death, as they expected to be when they went out
to the city's gate ? And so all the time we are giv-
ing our children and our friends full credit for what
they intend to do. And this is what God does when
our intention is simple.

II. But we a(]vance now to find the spiritual
meaning of the other side of this metaphor. " If
thine eye be evil thy whole body is full of dark-
ness." It is reasonable to take this as meaning just
the opposite of the previous clause, with which we
have been dealing. A diseased eye seeing double,
or in some other way deranged, is to the body what
conflictinof intentions are to the soul. As the single
eye means a pimple intention or an unmixed aim, so
the evil eye means a mixture of intentions.

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120 THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

A nutnber of times when standing in this place,
I have said that the intention which gives birtli
to an act is either all good, or else wholly bad.
The same act cannot have a parentage partly good,
and partly evil. You will notice that this text
supports my statement. If an intention is unmixed,
and is full}' fixed upon God, then it is wholly good,
and it makes the act that springs from it good also.
But if the intention be mixed, — that is, the meaning
for that is directly opposite to simple, — then it is
evil. A mixture of intentions is evil, and tliat is all
there is about it. The word here calls it evil with-
out any manner of qualification. This must end
the case.

Now, a little thought upon this matter will show
that it is perfectly reasonable that mixed intentions
should be counted as evil. Take this simple illus-
tration of the case. Ask your boy, who is just begin-
ning to study geometry, to try if. he can draw two
distinct straight lines between an}' two given points.
At first thought he will say, " Yes, I can ; of course
I can." Very likely you would say the same thing,
if you had not thought upon it. Well, let the boy
get about the work. Study the results. He may
make two lines between any two points easily enough,
but one will be straight, and the other curved, or
both will be curved. There cannot possibly be more
than one right line between two given points. Well
now, mixed intentions are like two straight lines
trying to lie between the same two points. Exam-

THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION. 1*21

ine these mixed intentions, as we call them. A nuin
has a general intention to live for God, and to be an
acceptable Christian. Now that is all riujht. That
can be onl}- good. But he gets into some specula-
tion. He holds the big end of the stick in his own
hand. He has a splendid chance, such a one as will
probably never come to him again. He thinks that
it would be too bad not to make a big haul, espe-
cially as it is his only opportunity. True, it will not
be strictly honest, but the fact is when once he gets
the money into his hands he will give very largely of
it to support his church. Now, this is a very fair
specimen of a mixed intention. Take another case.
There is as before, the general purpose to live as a
Christian, and to please God. But some fascinating
pleasure has cast its thrall over the man. It will
not 1)6 long ; it will be only once. Of course the
pleasure is forbidden by the Bible, and by all that is
best in our natures. But then one would like to
know just what it is for only once, and so he yields,
and wilfuUv does what he knows Go<l forbids. Now
this is another example, and a very common one, of
a mixed intention. Some speak of these, and other
similar examples, as being cases of mixed intention,
where what one intends to do is partly go )d and
partly evil. I do not think that this is correct.
There are two ways of describing the entanglement,
without calling it a mixed intention, partly good,
and partly bad. The way which puts it in the best
light, is to allow that in these cases there are two

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]22 THE SlNrJLE EYR, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

intentions lying across each other. There is a gen-
eral intention to be a Christian, always good. Then
just at the time of action, the intention to get gain
dishonestly, or to indulge in a pleasure that is
known to be unlawful, has got across the other good
intention. This last intention iswhoUv bad. Now,
looking at the case in this way, there is no intention
divided between the good ^nd the evil, but there arc
two distinct intentions, one wholly good, and one
wholly bad, trying to occupy the sf^me mind at the
same time, like two straight line.-s trying to lie
between the same two points. I do not believe
that this is possible ; therefore I do not think that
this is the correct way to represent these cases. The
truth is that there is neither a mixed intention, nor
two distinct intentions, but one only. There was a
good intention — the purpose to serve God truly and
acceptably. This did exist in the mind, but in pas-
sing through the temptation, and in falling under
its power, another intention has become paramount,
and holds, for the time at least, complete control over
the mind. That is, in the one case, the purpose to
gain money dishonestly, and in the other it is the
purpose to drink from some forbidden cup of plea-
sure. When this last has gained the control of the
mind, the former good intention has been uncon-
sciously let go. The man may invent some subter-
fuge to satisfy himself that he has not let it go, but
it is sfone, and the evil has come instead. The most
that can be correctly said of his good intention at

THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION. 128

the time of his committing the sin is that he hopes
that sometime he will come a<^ain under that former
ofood intention.

I therefore reach the conclusion that there can
be but one ruling intention in a man's mind at the
same time, and that this must be wholly good or
wholly bad. I think that this is clearly taught in
this text.

- As to the effect upon a man's conduct of a change
in the character of his intentions, there can be no
doubt. It will make his acts appear like those of a
man whose body is full of darknes>. His conduct
will be irregular. It will be like walking a rope
with a swimming head. Let Blondin try to cross
the Niagara river on his rope, and look down at
the foaming waters, or around upon the wondering
crowds of people, and he will fall.

A preacher from the country came into one of our
western towns to preach. He had never spoken in
so large a church, or to so great a company. As he
stood in the high pulpit his head became dizzy. He
did not fix his attention upon the book before him,
or upon some point in the gallery, or better still,
concentrate his thoughts upon his theme until he
with eyes open would see nothing, but he allowed
his eyes to wander about the room and to take in
one after another of his hearers, until, as he after-
wards said, the whole multitude seemed to be swim-
ming around in the air. He had to close up his re-
marks abruptly, and get away. Now, that is just

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124 THE SIN(a.E KVE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

what his conduct will be when a man gives up a
•'00(1 intention for a bad one. Here is one source of
weakness in our Christian work and influence. We
not only indulge ourselves in coining down from
the strong intention t) gain eternal life at all haz-
ards, and in fre(iuently doing acts with a consciously
lower purpose, hut we persuade ourselves that this
is unavoidable in our present state of being. We
are therefore very lenient in our judgment of our-
selves when we fall to acts with a very low inten-
tion. Oh, we say, we cannot help it. There is tre-
mendous danger in this leniency. Luther had this
danger in mind, when writing upon this same text.
He said it was a warninfj "not to allow ourselves to
be taken in by fair colors and outward appearance,
with which avarice may trick itself out and conceal
the knave." But you may think that Luther was a
stern tj'pe of Christian man. Yes, he was ; but
nevertheless he was correct in .this, that there is no
manner of excuse for any act which is done with a
bad intention. It does not redeem the act in any
degree for the actor to say that he has a general in-
tention in life to please God and gain eternal life,
because in saying that he either does not know his
own heart, or else he lies outright. The good in-
tention of a general character is dethroned when he
decides to do a single act with a bad purpose in his
heart. Any amount of excuse may be made for the
net which was done with a good intention, but
which failed of its mark for want of more knowr

THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION. 125

lo(l«^o, or ot" a more .steady hand, ui- of a l)etti'r iiiem-
ory; but for an act with a bad desijjfii there is no
apolo^ry now or ever.

I have spoken .stron(rly on this subject ; some of
you may think I have spoken hard thinirs. Well, I
have felt willing,' to tear away that refui,'e which we
are so likely to take, that we cannot avoid some-
times falling to a h»w purpose. I mentioned that
preacher who said the congregation swam before his
eyes. It was because he did not tix his attention
in looking at the people. Well, I don't want you to
swim before n»v eyes, either now or hereafter. I
can look at you now without my head getting dizzy ;
but I could not do so by and by when we shall all
stand in a much more solemn presence than this, if
1 did not try to hunt out the favorite hiding-places
and subterfuges of the evil one who is daily rob-
binijf of all tlieir bloom and fruitao^e Cliristian lives
that were at their beginning full of hope and pro-
mise. We sit toijether here in the church to studv"
the truth about motives and purposes. Let us also
walk down into the city, let us stand together in
market and store, and street and factory, in the
office and at the polling-booth, in the kitchen and
in the parlor, and there as well as here let us look
after our Christian lives, and see that every indi-
vidual act is informed by as earnest a desire to
please God and to gain eternal life as we profess
and feel in a general way when we sit in the con-
gregation, or speak in the class-room. We can

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126 THE SINGLE EYE, THE SIMPLE INTENTION.

reach a nobler standard of Christian livin<if by dili-
j^ently attending to this matter.

Anionj^ other thoughts which insist upon being
noticed in this connection is the exphination which
this study gives of passages which represent tliat
men may live without sin. See, for example, 1 John
iii. 8 ; also 1 John v. 18. These mean that a man
when born of God comes under a new controlling in-
fluence. He is of God then, and he lives to Him
alone. As long as he keeps himself wholly under
that influence, he will not consent to do anything
which he knows that God will not approve. The
faults of his life through inflrmity of body and
mind are not imputed to him as sin. They continue
until the end, but he will not be punished for them.
They do not prevent his enjoying the favor of God.

It is quite possible to attain to a condition of con-
secration in which wo may enjoy the favor of God
without interruption. By living wholly in Christ
we sliall be raised above any desire to do anything
that is not consistent with an earnest purpose to
gain eternal life. The strong intention to please
God may rule in every act.

Is not such a triumph of spiritual liberty worth

III

gaining ?

A MAN IS ACCEPTABLE TO GOD
IF HE MEANS TO DO RIGHT.

" If there be tirst a willing mind it is accepted according to
that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not." —
2 CoKiNTHiANS viii. 12.

I INTENDED to preach a number of sermons
encourajxinjj a more earnest advance to hifrher
attainments in the Christian life. My plan did not
include anything upon the text which I have now
read, but I turn to it that I may further explain
some points already stated, and at the same time
confirm the principles laid down.

The text was written to stimulate liberality in
supporting an important charity. In such work the
act is valued for the spirit that appears in it. If a
man is poor he is not for that reason esteemed a
small giver, it at the same time his soul is full of
generous and helpful impulses. The gracious Lord
said that the poor widow gave more than all the
rest. She actually gave only two mites. They
would not count for much in supporting the great
work of the temple, or in feeding the hungry poor ;
but she so highly valued the privilege of giving
something to the cause loved by God, that, looked

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A MAN IS ACCEPTABLE TO GOD

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upun ill the .spirit that prompted it, her <^it't was
lart^er than any otlier.

Now, heie is a principle enunciated which, I am
sure, may be appHed to all human conduct. It' God
will accept from a poor woman two two-ninths of
one cent and count it as great a gilt as another's
thousands, then it is clear that He will make the
same liberal allowance for a riMit state of mind in
all other actions. With His judgment the condition
of mind in which any act is done is the greatest
I)art of the act.

Let it be the case of a sick person, confined to
bed for many montlis, who longs to attend services
for prayer and praise, to go through the streets on
errands of mercy, carrying from cottage to cottage
food for the hungry, and the bread of life for the
soul ; or let it be one to whom nature has ijiveii
neitlier musical voice, nor sen.se of harmony, but
who would delight to join acti'vely in the high ser-
vice of praise ; or one who promised to go to the
help of another, and sincerely intended to do so, but
through pressure from many directions, forgot all
about it; or let it be the case of a thoroughly honest
man who wants to cast his vote in the right way, but
who never had any opportunity of learning to read,
and therefore cannot study up for himself the ques-
tions of the hour : now, is it not a reasonable inter-
pretation of this text to say that God would in any
of these cases accept the earnest desire to do the
right thing, as if the act were actually done, when

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IF HE MEANS TO DO lUUHT.

129

the failure has been due to some unavoidable defect
of body or intellect ?

I think that this is the principle presented in
this text, and I now desire to brinir it to mv aid in
strengthening some principles that have been before
hiid down.

Beside a number of prayer-meetinj^ talks, I have
preached two sermons, bearing upon the higher gifts
of grace. In the first I showed in what sense men
in this life may become like Christ. It is only in
the moral nature. This part of our humanity may
realize in this world the full ett'ect of Christ's
redeeming work. To bring out my thought more
clearly, I said that when one's moral nature is fully
restored to its integrity he will not choose anything
contrary to the will of God. He will intend, or
mean, in everything he does, to do the right, and
what is best to be done.

In the second sermon, I said that until life ends
this same man will be engaged in perfecting holi-
ness, which labor I said would be the teaching and
disciplining of all his powers and faculties, that he
may all the time be getting a little more nearly
able to do just what he intends to do, though he
will never quite accomplish this. There will always
be some distance between what he wants to do, and
what he does do.

Now, I want to work out my meaning until it is
perfectly clear. So long as a teacher uses words
which mean one thingr to him, and something else
9

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A MAN IS ACCEPTAHLE TO GOD

to his hearers, liis meaning will not be well under-
stood, because it is not clearly expressed. This is
just the way it has been in these sermons, between
you and me. I have been striving to discover,
through various conversations, just what meaning I
had conveyed, and after much thought, I think that
I have rooted out the difficulty.

It is this. In using the word "intention," 1 have
not meant what you have understood me to mean.
I think 1 can bring out the difference between us
on this point. There is an old saying, " Hell is
paved with good intentions." The authorship of
it is not known, but it is attributed to one of the
stern old divines. Now, when I am talking about
intentions, I think that you understand me to mean
about what is meant by the w^ord in that saying.
When the old divine used that saying, I suppose
he meant a purpose that looks away into the
future for its fulfilment. Felix had such an inten-
tion when he said, " Go thy way for this time, when I
have a more convenient season I will call for thee."
I doubt not that he did intend sometime to send
for Paul, and attend to the grave matters in ques-
tion. When the rich young m&n asked, "What
good thing shall I do to inherit (:i;ernal life ?" he had
an intention which looked towards heaven, but
nevertheless he went away sorrowful. His inten-
tion did not bring forth any action. When young
men and women say, " I intend to die a Christian,"
and think that when thoy get settled in life, they

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IF HE MEANS TO DO RIfaiT.

131

will tlieii attend to tlu'sc vvt'i^^hty ([uestions, tlieir
intention does not thrust up out of itself any deeds
that show a chant'ed life. He intends to die a
Christian, yet ^oes on livinj^^ in sin. It is much tlie
same with a drunkard, when he says to Ins wife
that he intends to reform his habits, and then <;oes
out and comes home (h'unk, and continues to do so
from time to time. So the <jjamltler says, tliat wlien
he {i^ains a hun<h'ed thousand dollars he intends to
(juit the (^ame, and to lead an honest life. Now, in
each of these cases there is an intention expressed,
which is followed by no action. It is a state of
mind which looks to the future for the realization
of some fjood that is deemed desirable. That is all
there is in such intentions. They amount simply to
an admission that it is desirable to get to heaven,
and that one cannot get there without beinij a
Christian here ; and therefore common sense dic-
tates that everyone should follow Christ.

These are the kind of j^ood intentions with which
that severe old preacher said hell is paved.

If we would speak with philosophical accuracy,
they are not intentions at all, they do not inspire
any action. Actually the young man who says,
" I intend to be a Christian," and then goes away in
exactly the opposite direction, and continues to live
in sin, does not intend to be a Christian ; he
intends to live in sin, and so he does live. The
most he would say if he spoke correctly would be
that he hopes that sometime he will intend to
become a Christian, but that time is not yet.

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A MAN IS ACCEPTABLE TO GOD

Now, when I liave been u.sinf]^ the word " inten-
tion," you have been understanding me to mean
such intentions as these with which hell is paved.
Actually I have been meaning something entirely
difierent. By intention I mean an essential part of
every act. The moral philosophers tell us that
there are four essential parts to every act. The
first is the intention. To take a simple illustration,
you are pleased with something your child has
done. You think that she should have some
reward. There is the fi.rst part of the act — the
desire, the intention to reward your child. What
shall you do for her ? The thought comes into your
mind to give her a watch. That is the second part
of the act. You may have thought of many ways
of rewarding her, which you dropped, but this is the
one you determine to carry out. The determina-
tion that you will do this, and not anything else, is
the third part of the act. The fourth part anyone
can see. You put on your hat and go to a jeweler's,
and buy the watch, and bring it and place it in her
hand. Three parts of an act are unseen by all but
the actor, and God ; one alone is open to the eyes of
all men. It is plain then that the intention is the
very foundation of the act. It is the cause for which
the act is done. It is a part of it, just as the edge
is part of the knife, the point is part of a needle,
or the box is part of a cart. It is that part of it
for which all the rest exists, and without which all
the rest would be quite useless.

IF HE MEANS TO DO RIGHT.

{:]:]

Take that saying of the stern old divine, and
translate it freely, hell is paved with the edi^es of
knives, or with the points of needles. That would
1)0 absurd, because the edge of a knife, or the point
of a needle is nothing at all when not on the knife
or the needle. Take the edge away, and the whole
knife is left, but it is utterly useless, because the
end for which it was brought into existence is taken
away. A knife was made to cut, and it cannot do
this without an edore.

Now, whenever I have spoken aboat intentions I
have always meant an intention which is a part of
an action, not what a man has some kind of an
idea that he will do sometime, but a part of the act
which he is doing now. When I say if a man's
moral nature is wholly restored he will always
intend to do what is right, I do not mean that he
will have a fjeneral intention to do riij^ht in life, but
that in every separate act which he does he will
have a definite intention to do right in that parti-
cular.

He can afford a separate intention tor each act of
his life. Not like the 7nan who prayed by looking
at his written prayer and saying, " thems my senti-
ments," he has not to refer back to his intentions
when he first nade a profession of religion, l)ut
under each act he has a distinct intention, and
that intention is good. I do not mean Jiat in the
v.ase of each act he stops to think out that particular
case, for he intends well without stoj;ping to analyze

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134

A MAN IS ACJCEPTABLE TO GOD

his feeling. If, however, an evil purpose were
thrust upon him he would feel that. An educated
man speaks correctly all day without thinking of
any rule of grammar, but any marked error in
speed 1 would cause him to think of the rules of
grammar.

Now, if I have been successful in makingr mv
meaning plain, we are ready to apply the principle
contained in the text to these cases where one's
performance is not so good as it was intended to be.

There is an appeal for gifts to carry on a certain
charity. A man feels in his heart that he would
like to endow it with a hundred thousand dollars,
hut he is a poor man, and from the wages paid for
his daily toil, he gives only ten dollars, but it is half
his earnings for a month. To give so much he has
stinted himself in the matter of necessary food, to
say nothing about going without all useless indul-
ofcnces. Now, does not this text teach that God
would esteem him a liberal giver? Would not you
also say that he was more liberal than many who
gave twenty times tlie amount he gave ? You also
would esteem his act in the light of his intention, or
for the spirit which it manifested.

Let us see how this principle will apply to other
things. You send your little girl, say ten years old,
into the town, on a message that it is important to
you to have delivered immediately. To avoid a
group of drunken, swearing men, which you did not
take into your calculation, she turns aside from the

IF HE MEANS TO DO UIGHT.

1.S5

direct route which you instructed lier to take. The
result is that she gets lost, and after \vanderinf]j
ahout for many hours, she at last returns, without
delivering her message, when it is too late to be of
any advantage to you to have it delivered.

Now, the execution of her act has been bad, and
the result is vexatious to you, as well as being the
cause of considerable loss. What will you do with
your little girl ? Will you fall upon her with a
severe beating ? If you do you are a brute, and
deserve worse than a beating yourself. But that is
the very last thing that you will think of. You
feel that the child is as innocent as ^m anofel.
Because of her intention, and her honest effort to
serve you, you feel as kindly toward her as if she
had actually accomplished all you desired. There
was a willing mind, and you accept the act as if per-
fectly done, because according to her ability she
did the best she could. A strong man might have
done it lietter, but she was not a strong man. The
part of her act which we call the intention was
Perfect.

Take this principle into any sphere, and it will
'/ (jrk the same way. Your grocer leaves your order
au uUe wrong door. It is awkward, indeed, for
you. You have some friends in to tea. At last you
send around to him again. He apologizes and is
extremely mortified, and neglects everything else in
his effort to remedy the mistake. It is all due to an
ignorant boy who cannot read numbers with any

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A MAN IS ACCEPTABLE TO GOD

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■ffill.L

confidenc tliat he is correct. What will you do
about it ? Will you abandon your grocer ? No,
you come in the end to pity him, and to feel that he
suffers more from the aftkir than you do. Will you
insist that he dismiss that boy ? No, for he is a
useful b(^y, he is naturally bright, and is learning
the numbers fast, and it would be cruel to cut off
his livinfj when he is doins: his best, and that best
is fairly well.

In all these cases you would accept the deed as if
it were well don?^, because the person tried his best
to do it well. H . jd through some imperfection
of han<l or memory r judgment. Well now, that
is God's way of dealing with us. When the heart
means well He accepts the imperfect performance of
an act as though it were perfect, tliat is, He makes
allowance for the poor ability we have with which
to perform a perfect act, or to carry out a perfect
intention.

Well now, through this opening, I think that we
can see the true relation which a wholly saved man
sustains to both God and men.

First, as to God. He lives in Christ, and honestly
wants to do what Christ would have him do in
each separate act of his life. There is something
more than a general intention to live a Christian
life. That intention comes down into everything he
does. If he has not such an intention in every act,
he is not living in Christ at all. The moment he
enters upon one act without the desire and intention

IF HE MEANS TO DO HKJHT.

i'M

to do what will please God in that act, ho has departed
from God, and is coniniittin;^ a sin. Seeini^ that he
intends to do the will of God in all tilings, though
liis performance is far from perfect, God accepts
it as perfect, *' according to what he hath, and not
according to what he hath not." That is, God takes
into the account the implements with which he
has to work, and so, as long as he means what is
right, the imperfect execution is freely forgiven and
overlooked.

Second, as to men. It is plain that to men the
same holy man's life must appear defective. He
has to carry out all his good plans and jmrposes
with most imperfect instruments. The body and
mind will constantly betray him into error. Take
the old fable of the birds. In that storv the crow
intended to sing as well as the lark, but for want of
voice, and sense of harmony, and everything else
that enters into the nature of music, the crow's
attempt was a distinguished failure. So a good
many good intentions come out in the execution.
And so it will be with every man, until the end of
his life. The best man living or who ever did, or
ever will live, must feel that his efforts fall far short
of what he meant and desired them to be. He is
every day trying to correct the defects of the past,
but probably every day feeling more than ever the
utter hopelessness of ever reaching perfection in his
performance.

Now, he will often be blamed for these imperfec-

)

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Wm^^mk

18S

A MAN IS ACCEPTABLE TO GOD

tions by men. Men cannot forgive as easily as God
can, and they are more exacting than He, because
they know less. Men can only know of each
other's intention by what each succeeds in accom-
plishing; consequently they cannot make the same
allowance which God does for a poor performance,
because of the good intention which lies behind it.
They cannot see the good intention. Then it is also
true that God understands better than men what
each one has to work with, for men differ so much
in their endowments, and each is likely to make
his own endowments and attainments the judgment
bar at which he wants every other man to be tried.
Men's uncharitableness, their treatment of each
other in this respect, is nothing less than cruel.
There is a man who has a vigorous body, a naturally
bright intellect, thoroughly developed by a univer-
sity training, and who never knew what it means to
feel shame on account of any of his kindred. His
business has always been prosperous. His high
gifts have enabled him to make it so. He has
never felt any of the privations of poverty. Now,
it is an easy thing to that man to be self-possessed,
to be calm, and to be thoroughly moral. He criti-
cises, and ridicules, and heaps his contempt upon
plain men who, without a tithe of his advantages,
and with tools immeasurably inferior to his, are
trying to render a good account of themselves in
this world, to walk uprightly and to enter heaven
at last.

IF HE MEANS TO DO UIGHT.

1:39

t . M

This is only one example of many hard judg-
ments which men form of each other's conduct.
Men can hardly understand why every other should
not do as well in any case as the man who happens
to sit in judgment at any moment on any particular
action. They do not readily take into account the
difference in each other's endowments and educa-
tional advantages.

1. From this study we may learn what is meant
when the epistles of John teach that if a man is
born of God he will not commit sin. He will not
intend to offend God.

2. It should teach us the principle upon which we
should exercise a universal charity. About the least
allowance we can make for any nian is that he
may be in the favor of God, and if he should die he
would get into heaven. That is no great praise for
any man. It is all of God's l)Oundless grace.

3. It also teaches us wherein our true excellency
lies. The man who turns his talent to account will
get a reward. To do this he must make all his
faculties serve his pure intention with something
like efficiency. Herein is a work for which he is
worthy of praise.

4. It also affords a basis for the distribution of
rewards and punishments.

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Mhte

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

" Yet lackest thou one thing." — Luke xviii. 22.

ONE thin^ indeed ! If I lacked no more than
that, I should think it scarcely worth men-
tioning.

Of tive thoughts suggested by this text, the
first is :

I. That a person who lacks only one thing should
be counted a very happy person. Wh)', he was
happy that he did not lack twenty things. It
would require a caravan to carry the things that
almost anyone imagines he wants. How easily
wants grow in our minds ! How rapidly the for-
midable list accumulates ! But we can dispense
with most of these things without any inconveni-
ence. Often we are better without than with them.
If a man can give himself and his family three
meals each day, clothe them respectably, and educate
his children, we shall not stop to pity him because
he cannot afford a carriage and pair, or because his
wife frets because her carpets cost twenty-five cents
per yard less than her neighbor's. If the silly
creature cannot stand that, she geta no sympathy
from me.

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

141

But there is a strange fascination about a person
who can have all he wants. Trollope, in " The
Stnall House at Allington," represents an Englisii
girl as wondering if a bisliop ever has his gloves
stitched when they break out at the seams.
With her stitching, and pressing, and mending, her
ideal of happiness was one who never needed to do
anything of the kind.

We stand before mansions and imagine the life
of the people within them — people who never need
to say, " I can't," for want of money. No darning
and scrimping. Some of them do not lack any-
thing. But then some of them may lack many
things, as health, beauty, love, innocence. Often
the owner would give all for the health his coach-
man enjoys. The mistress would give up her place
in life for the beauty of her maid, or if her husband
would love her as her gardener loves his wife.

And worst o'l all is the lack of innocence. The
money that built the mansion was gained by fraud.
The owner sleeps, and a nightmare seizes him.
He hears ever the crying of the orphans whose
father he ruined, and who died of a broken heart.
Oh, will no one stop the crying of those children !
We do not know as we stand before mansions, but
all the same if we did know that anyone lacked
onl}" one thing, we should count him very happy !

A second thought that crowds along, is :

II. If a man lacked but one thing, that thing
might be something the absence of which would

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142

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

;ilKI

prevent liis <^ettin«; any ^ood t'runi all that he pos-
sessed. The hoy uttered a typical truth who said,
" Salt was what made potatoes taste bad l»y not
havinj^ any on." The idea is, the loss of what you
have because you have not something else. In 3'our
watch is a small spring, so small, indeed, that you
would scarcely see it on your table. It is the haii*
sprinijf. But it is so important that, lackinj^ it, your
watch would be utterly useless. The heavy case of
gold, the elaborately wrought machinery, the Htness
of all the other parts, would be of no value. It is
only one thing, but that thing is essential.

A palace, with all that money cm bring by way
of furnishings, and even royal eipiipage, but the
mistress is blind ! A table loaded with all delicacies
and luxuries, but the man is ill and cannot eat !

1 visited a young man twenty years of age,
wealthy and popular, belonging to a good family.
He had only a short time before fallen heir to a
handsome fortune. He had been, when in health, a
person of very fine appearance. Everything that
heart could wish for was at that man's command.
But there was one defect — his health was gone. He
was far gone in consumption. It was plain that
there were not many more days for him upon earth.
As we talked, he wept bitterly. " Oh," he exclaimed,
'• to be cut otf in my prime ! It is very hard." To
me it was a sad spectacle. If there had been
fewer attractions to his lot, his distress would not
have been so great.

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

143

This is true in every case where ji person has no
rt'li^non. He does not get the highest good of any-
thint; ill lite because of lackin;; this one tliinii:
in Hfe. Does he say he gets the good of life as he
goes ah^ng i* Then he puts himself on the level of a
child eating a stick of candy. Now, if there were
any way in which a child could eat the candy and
have it, would he not seek that way :* There is
not; when he eats it, it is gone forever, and if it
were a mile long it would soon be gone. 80, with-
out religion, there is nothing left of life when one
has passed through it. There is a way by which
he can have it and yet keep every part of it, but
he does not follow that way, and so loses it as he
uses it. But he accumulates as he goes along ! Yes,
we used to roll snowballs. " Hark I the school bell !
Oh, boj^s, what a ball we could make if the noon hour
lasted till sundown ! But we have to go into school.
We cannot take it home at night. It can only melt
away where it lies." So with man's accumulations.
But with religion he carries his past forward
with him in the virtues of his own character. But
without it, as he gets near the end he learns that he
has lived in vain, under a painted heaven, with
beads for stars. Lacking religion, he loses the good
of all that he ever possesses.

But vet another thoujjht about lackinf; only one
thing.

III. The one thing lacking may be some essential
thing.

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

III

On tlie .SOth day of January, 104!), the physical
manhood of Charles I. lacked only one thin<(, hut
that tliinL( was his head. It was the defect of an
essential thin<;.

I said just now I would «,'ive no sympathy to the
person who wanted a carriage or better carpets ; hut
if one of tlie children is sick, and we know some
particuhir tliinL,' that will (^ive that child relief, we
will walk around the city to procure it, and hrin<^ it
to the child. So if this man mentioned here lacks
some thing essential to life and happiness, we are
hound to give the case our most serious considera-
tion. Why, just think, leaving that one thing nn-
supplied might prove fatal.

Yea, it is possible that lacking some one thing
mi<dit shut the gates of heaven aijainst him ; micrht
blot his name out of the book of life. To lack one
essential thing is a matter of very grave importance.
It is a case not to be classed among those in which
men accumulate imaginary wants.

But let us turn again to the case of this man.
Perhaps the one thing he lacked was some essen-
tial thing. In that case we must not pass him by
with a sneer.

Now, this can very easily be the case in relation
to reliirion. There is one essential thinnj here. It is
ci^nformity to Christ. That includes three things:
1. Trust in His atonement for the forgiveness of all
sin ; 2. Likeness to His spirit, or inward life in Him;
and 3. Imitation of His example in outward life.

ONK OllAVK DEFECT.

Tiie first two of tliuse, and more especially tlie first,
are lialjle to Ije overlooked. A man may be in many
respects like a Christian, but it' he lacks the spirit of
Christ, if he has no personal dependence upon Ilim,
then assuredly all the f^ooil that he has will be lost,
so far as (jfettinir him into heaven is concerned.

And yet a fourth thou^^dit cron'ds upon us here :

I V. When only one thini,^ is lack'ni^ a person is less
likely to discover his need of it than if he lacked
many thinjj^s.

He will have so much that is ^'ood that his eye
wi!l be tilled with it, and he will pnjbably not dis-
cover that one thin<; is still wantin<^ Now, you can
easily bring together in your thoughts a multitude
of things which a man may have and yet be lacking
to the extent of one thing.

Mrs. bought SI, 100 worth of goods of

J A , in an hour. A month later she saw

" fairy lights," and must have some. He told her
she Ljot some when in before. She had never un-
packed them, but had so much she never missed
them.

Now construct an ideal Christian.

(a) There may be, to begin with, an amiable
temper, good health, a happy adjustment of mental
(jualities, a manner of life largely free from the
causes that stir up the sterner qualities of human
nature. Let all these conditions meet in one person
and he will be amiable in his temper and outward
manner. You may remember Becky "^^

larpe

146

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

cism of tlie mistress of Queen's (Jrawle, a woman
who had been beautiful, but was beautiful no longer.
Her eyes seemed always ready to fill with tears as
if weeping the loss of her departed charms. She
had been so systematically trampled upon by Sir
Pitt, and so systematically ignored by everyone
else that no spirit was left in her. Becky shrewdly
reflected, '" I have nothing to fear from that woman."
Now that is one type of amiability. How unlikely
such a person is to find out that, as a Christian, he
lacks anything ! Yet such gentleness is not re-
ligion ! The soft, gentle meekness, which is simply
the absence of any true force of character, may be
present and yet one thing, or more, be lacking.
Why, this young man had all this softness and
attractivenes.j of character. We are told that Jesus
loved him. What does this mean but that his dis-
position was so gentle that Jesus was won by it ?
But it was not religion. It is unworthy the name,
however. But when there are fire, and passion, and
energy, all held under restraint, so that one does
not speak or look the savage word that burns within,
and with almost volcanic power seeks utterance,
there is true amiability. But a person must have
some of the spirit of Christ to restrain himself in
that v/ay.

(6) One may also have had a religious training in
childhood. Suppose that from your earliest j-ears
you had scrupulously observed all the command-
ments, you would, undoubtedly, also have followed

ONE r.RAVE DEFECT.

147

the lial)its of pious peo})l(\ In tliat, ease; you would
be no better than this youn^f man. His answers to
the Saviour reveal the fact that liis parents had
been scrupulously careful to lead his steps in his
youth into the ways of reliffion.

(c) As a result of this religious trainin*; in child-
hood and youth, he had a high degree of religious
knowledge. But knowledge of subjects related to
religion is a very difierent thing from personal piety.
An infidel may seek this knowledge. An intelligent
Chinaman, one of the higher ckss, was travelling on
an American railway. He was engaged in conver-
sation with an American gentleman of good intelli-
gence. The discussion was about Christianity.
The Chinaman was much interested. He put many
pertinent questions, and showed a great interest in
the progress of the Christian religion, and its influ-
ence and teaching. The American thought him
about to embrace it. With a few adroit sentences,
he gave the conversation a personal turn. But now
to his amazement the Chinaman declared that China
had the best system of religion in the world. He
said that it was much more likely that the religion
of China would prevail over all the rest of the
world than that Christianity would ever prevail to
any great extent in China. Now, he was seeking a
knowledge of Christian religion just as a boy study-
ing English history enquires about the Lollards or
Druids. He had no idea of becoming a Druid or a
Lollard. So this Chinaman sought the knowledge

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

ill

of tills religion just as the late Prof. Agassiz used to
seek a knowledjje about snakes, often storing them
away, greatly to his convenience, in his wife's slip-
pers, and thus furnishing the good woman some
great surprises. Such enquiries about religion are
just like a boy's enquiries about a menagerie. He
has no intention of buying it. If he had, his en-
quiries would be of a very different nature. A
man niay have any amount of knowledge bout
religion, ae(]uired in this way, and yet lack a.: con-
formity to Christ. But when he seeks knowledge
as Zacclieus did, wanting it to apply to his own
heart and life, be will become like that man, ready
to sacrifice and do anything.

Now, take any one, or two, or three, or four of
these qualifications of the ideal Christian — how
unlikely he who has them is to discover that any-
thing is lackino- to his Christian character ! More
if you add —

(d) Regular and habitual reading of the Bible.
Tliere is such a thing as using the Bible as a sort of
atonement for past sin and neglect. It is not
necessarily religious. Reading the Bible as a sort
of religious task is very different from incorporating
the spirit of the Bible into one's heart. I remem-
ber a man who every day of his life contradicted
the spirit of the Bible, but who seemed to think
that the reading of a few chapters on the Sabbath
was a sufficient offset to all his irreligion during the
week. Another had neglected religion all his life,

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

141)

but when he found himself near the end of life, he
said, " Bring me the Bible, I must now read it and
i^et ready to die." Now, it is the getting the spirit
of the Bible into our hearts, and revealing it in our
lives that makes a man ready to die, and not simply
tunning the eye over the words it contains. The
fact is that the Bible was not given particularh^ to
teach men how to die. It was designed to teach
men how to live, and i^. is wholly incidental that
it teaches us how to die. If one learns from it how
to live well, there need be no concern about the
dying. That will come out all right. If tins use
has not been made of the book while living, then
nothing that can be done in the extreme moment
will avail anything. The case will then have gone
out of our hands. It will have been delivered to
the jury. The book long ours, long wholly in our
hands, will then have passed into the possession of
the court as matter of evidence. It will be ours no
lonijfer.

What chance has the regular Bible reader to dis-
cover that his religious character and life lack any-
thing ? Especially when he makes a virtue of his
regular habit !

(«) Membership in the Church. A man may
also be a member of the Church of Christ and yet
be wanting in some essential thing. Certainly
this young man was a member of the establisheil
Church of his time. Indeed, he filled a very Idgh
position in the Church. We are told that he was a

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

ruler. He was not a civil ruler, but an ecclesiasti-
cal ruler. Yet he was not thoroughly supplied
for the chant^e that awaited him. There is a saying
which ori^nnated in no good will, in times of fjreat
religious degeneracy, the truth of which under cer-
tain circumstances is often yet strikingly illustrated.
It is, " The nearer to the Church, the farther from
God." This seems to have been the case with this
young man. It is painfully true of many who
regularly attend the services of religion. It is not
the Church, but Christ, that saves.

A man may be morally correct in his life and yet
be wanting in some essential thing. If a man obeys
the commandments he must be a moral man. Hence
this youth was not wanting in this. Morality is no
guide as to whether a man has the spirit which God
requires in him. If morality springs from a per-
son's spirit, it will be a perfect exhibition that he is
or is not what God would have him be, and
especially in this age when there are so many other
causes that produce morality. What is called society
demands from a person so high a degree of rectitude
that to be countenanced by decent people a man
must in outward life appear to be as good as a
Christian. You may say, in the case of any
moral man, that you do not know whether he is
moral because he loves purity or because he respects
tiie feelings and opinions of his fellowmen. You
may say it is none of our business to know. This
is true. But it is his business to know if he is thinkr

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

151

ing himself fit for heaven because he is moral. That
is the whole point we make here.

Attain, the circumstances of some men's lives make
morality much more easy to them than to others.
Thore is as much difference between men in this re-
spect as there is between the ^reen bon<jjh which
waves in beauty upon the tree, and the white ashes
which lie upon the hearth. The one has had the
bright sunshine and the refreshinix dew, the other
has been cut oft' and passed throu^di the fire. The
ashes had been still green leaves had the circum-
stances remained the same. So in life. There sits a
jud<]fe upon the bench, and before him is a prisoner
at the bar. They represent the two extremes in
relation to the law. The one is the law honored,
the other is the law broken. The one is perfect
morality, the Coher is immorality. But now con-
sider the different circumstances throuf(h \hich
these two men have come in life. The one was the
child of respectable parents. They always gave
him enough of life's necessaries. In his childhood he
never felt the pinching fingers of want upon him.
Why should he be tempted to steal ? In childhood
and youth he always saw an example of integrity
and propriety before him. Under such circum-
stances how easy it was for him to turn aside
from all vicious and depraved ways. Well edu-
cated, when he reached manhood he was launched
by the position and influence of others upon an
honorable and high career. He never once

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

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■XI

wrestled with the crimes that brouglit the
criminal before him to the bar. But that crimi-
nal has come, we will suppose, through a very
different course. He was born in poverty and
misery. No one ever took him by the hand to lead
him to church or to school. His struf^gles with evil
and misfortune began in the cradle, an<l they have
been renewed every day of his life. He came upon
crime as a birthright. Perhaps if the circumstances
of these two men had been reversed they might
have also exchanged position.s. This is of couj.se
only an imaginary case. It is by no means uni-
versal. On the contrarv, some of the best men have
come up through just such straits as this criminal.
But this hypothetical case represents how easily
some men may have a correct morality, while others,
always striving with mighty resistance against evil,
still show a life outwardly defective. To oot the
true value of morality as it must appear weighed by
God's standard, we should know how much has been
resisted in each case. As compared with each other,
one man has to run an engine that could draw the
longest train America ever saw over the Rocky
Mountains; another has but to guide a baby's carriage.
The one has to keep in accord with the voices around
him a trumpet which could be heard from Nova
Zembla to Cape Horn ; another has but to guide the
mellow tones of a flute through the rising chorus.
Surely God has some way by which these two men
stand upon a common level as regards salvation. In

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

I 58

judj^ing a man's morality we should know liow
much conies from a true love of goodness, and how
much from the fear of society.

Now, here are three, yea, five, valuable thingi}
which we have broujjjht tof]cether. There is j^ood
temper, religious training in childhood, much religious
knowledge, membership with the Church, and an
unobjectionable morality. W^e might specify farther.
Now, with such wealth of good (juaHties united in
one's character, would it not be difficult to persuade
himself that he could possibly be lost ? Could he
easily fix his attention upon the fact that one
essential thing was wanting in him ? The very
excellence of his character would make it harder to
discern that he is wanting in the one thinix — con-
formity to Christ ?

When you go down among vile men you may re-
proach them in strong terms, for they know that
they are sinners. You may charge their immorality
upon them and they will feel it every time. If a
man never goes to church you have some chance
with him, but when there is everything that a
person needs except one, it is very difficult to
brinor home to him the truth that he is in dangfer
because of some one defect. If a number of points
were defective, there would be no difficulty in the
case. But we must not deceive ourselves. Some
things are of es.'^ential value. We need all other
virtues and graces, but we cannot possibly get along
without this. A general reproved an officer under

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him for some defective conduct. The officer said it
would not occur again. " Ah," said the general, "' in
the army there is no room for a second ndscarriage."
So, concerning that test to which we are all h)oking,
there is no room for a second miscarriage. If we
miss once there will be no opportunity for a second
attempt.

V. And now we come upon a fifth thought sug-
gested by lacking only one thing.

If one fails who lacked nnly one thing, the fact
that he lacked so little only aggravates the disap-
pointment of his failure.

A student failing in his examination by just a
few marks in only one subject — how vexatious !
Twenty-two years ago this month. Gen. Grant led
his victorious army into Vicksburg. A painful
tragedy occurred as the rejoicing soldiers went shout-
ing into the prostrated city. A private soldier
caught up a rifle, which the enemy had thrown
down, and holding it by the muzzle, he dragged it
after him as he rushed forward, and the hammer
caught upon the ground, the gun was discharged,
the bullet passing through the man's body, and
killing him instantly. What a sad death ! The
young man had passed without harm through
several hard-fought battles ; he had escaped sickness
in hard marches, and during the siege ; he would
now go into garrison with his comrades, and be safe
for the rest of the war. He was within a step of
home and friends, The welcome home, the paternal

ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

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])lessing, the j^reetinf^ of his old friends were near.
He lacked, oh, so little, yet that reunion could never
be. All the joy of victory, all the applause of the
nation, all the honors and rewards of duty well done,
all the chance of promotion, all, all were lost because
he lacked one thinuf. There is a proverb which
soldiers use when they learn that a bullet has t^one
throui^h their hat. It is this, " A miss is as ^ood as
a mile." It is a somewhat dangerous proverb, be-
cause it is likely to make us fororet the calamity
when the miss is on the other side. When we miss
getting any good thing, then a miss is as l)ad
as a mile. To just miss some promotion is to
be left to the monotony of our old paths. To miss
heaven, though by but the narrowest chance, is as
bad as an eternity of misfortune. I think that this
side of the oft-quoted proverb is of much more con-
sequence than the other.

In the Bible or out of it. I know of no sadder case
than that of this young man. There was much to
make life in this world attractive to him. He was
a well-to-do person. He was young. Already he
had risen to some distinction. He was a ruler. He
had all that wealth could bring. His family was
popular. He shared in the general esteem. What
young man would not exchange lot for lot with him.
Two of the evangelists tell of his conp.ng to Jesus.
The great T» acher dealt with him in such a faith-
ful way as he had never been accustomed to before.
Jesus held him up before his eye. He looked through

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ONE GRAVE DEFECT.

his very soul. He told hiiii just what he needed,
and how it was to be obtained. The lesson seemed
to him to be a hard one to put into practice. Ho
turned away sorrowful. There is no syllable or
sifj^n to indicate that he ever performed the duty
pointed out to him. The last we see of him his
face has turned fully toward the world and his back
upon heaven. It is an attitude full of no promise
for his future. Oh, it was a sad ending for a course
which opened full of hopeful inquiry.

Just a word as to the one thing which he lacked.
T have said it was conformity to Christ, includinc^ a
trust in His work for salvation, the possession of
Christ's spirit in himself, and the imitation of His
example. Now, how do the instructions which
Jesus gave to him justify that statement ? Why,
just in this way: Jesus instructed him in substance
to get the world out of his heart. Sell all that thou
hast and give the proceeds to the poor. If he could
do that there would be no danger of his being
destroyed or injured by the love of the world.
Now, this meant, in a word, that the love of the
world prevented his full acceptance of Jesus. The
love of the world prevented his full conformity to
Christ.

We cannot study this young man's case without
having our thoughts turned to the ending of our
own earthly course. It is easy to have religion
enough to get well through this world, but the ques-
tion crowds upon us, " \7ill that be sufficient to get

ONE (juave defect.

157

us well through the last trying ordeal :* " The sjul-
(lest possii)le thouglit of such an hour is th(.' contrast
l)etween what we shall he at that hour and what
we were, and what we hoped and promise* 1 ourselves
that we should be, and what we niii^ht have been,
and what we ought to have been, and what w-e
would have 'been but for ourselves. Some time
since some miners brought up from a deep mine the
body of a poor fellow who, more than forty years
before, had been suffocated in the mine. Some
chemical ajjent had come in contact witli the bodv,
and it had been preserved through all the long
period as fresh as it was on the day when the acci-
dent occurred. There he lay at the mouth of the
pit, a ruddy young man, his black locks falling back
from his brow, and his face the picture of health as
it was on that sad day forty years before. No one
recognized him. A whole generation had passed
away since the last time he descended the shaft to
engage in his daily toil. By and by an old woman
came up more than sixty years old. She knew him
in a moment, for during all those long years he had
not been forgotten for a single day. He was to
have become her husband on the day after that on
which the accident occurred. The bent, wrinkled,
gray, old woman fell upon the form of the young
man, and poured into his deaf ear words of endear-
ment such as she had not spoken for forty years.
There was a strange contrast between the two, Mud
yet they belonged to each other, both as to betrothal

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ONE GRAVK DEFECT.

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and as to time. (>>nly in the two one saw by con-
trL8t the change which time is constantly making
in us all. He had remained iinchan<^ed ; she had
grown ohl.

Now, in those two 1 see a picture of tlie chan<jjo
wliicli time is makinix with us all, in our monil
natures, as well as in our bodies. At seventy wc
differ as much from wliat we were at twenty-five
as that gray, worn, old woman <liffered from tlie
form of her affianced as he was at twenty-five.
But none of us intended that time should chan<;e
our moral natures so much. We hoped and planned
to preserve our purity without blemish.

There is one way, and only one, whereby we may
keep our moral natures as fresh and pure and simple
as we were at twenty, or even at ten, that is, by
enshrining tlie love of Christ in our hearts. Con-
formity to Him, if we make it the first aim of our
lives, will save us from all depreciation.

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST HY

NEGLIXT.

! I

" For unto every one that hath shall he given, and he shall
have ahuiidance ; hut from him that hath not shall he taken away
even that which he liath." — Matthkw xxv. 29.

THIS text states a <:jeneral law, observed every-
where in life and in nature. In a few words
the law may be stated as simply loss by ne«rlect,
and increase by use. Everyone has made some
observations which uphold this law, but the most
startling results from its operation are seen in rela-
tion to a man's capacity for religion. If this capa-
city is used, it grows strong and full of healthful
energy, but if it is neglected it perishes entirely.
This is in substance the meaning of this parable of
the talents, for in a strictly criwlv J interpretation of
it, its principles must be applied to man's religious
nature. Certainly there can be no objection, in a
general way, to make the talent represent any
power to influence others, as for example, grace or
beauty of person, strength and power of endurance,
or any intellectual gifts, such as those which make
a man proficient in learning, in trade or art.

But at the present time we shall take the more
critical view of the parable, and engage our thoughts

160 RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST BY NEGLECT.

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wliolly n|)on wliat may be calhid the rclij^ious
talents. \]y thesn 1 do not mean talents which mav
be used in connection witli religion. This may be
(h)iio with every endowment of bodily stren^^th, and
with all the faculties of the intellect. They may all
be used in the service of relif^ion ; indeed, a truly
religious man does constantly press them into the
service of his God. Herein thev reach their highest
aim. I hit by the religious talents 1 mean those
which can be used only in connection with religion.
They are wliolly idle and neglected in an irreligi(;us
man.

1 have met the true statement that the greatness
of a creature may be measured by the wants it mani-
fests. Take, for example, a stone. It wants ordy a
place in which to lie. A tree also wants a spot in
which to stand, but that is not all. It must con-
stantly draw upon the exhaustless treasures of the
manv-bearing e<irth, it must bathe its waving arms
in the wealth of the sun's light. How much grander
the existence of a tree than that of a stone. But a
bird rises to a yet grander height than either. It
must be allowed to soar through the lin)itless heavens,
and to feed upon the developed fruits of the earth,
and unconsciously it taxes daily a magniticent Pro-
vidence as its great housekeeper. But much higher
than the bird do some animals rise in the scale of
being, measured by their wants. They need all that
I have mentioned as demanded by these other crea-
tures, and more, even to a sort of kindred or fellow-

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST BY NEGLECT. 161

ship with man. This is a curious and interesting
phase of animal life. Certainly on the lower plane
of their existence they are like man. I do not
know of any difference between my animal life, and
the animal life of a horse which I may drive. But,
you say, my life is my soul. Without it my body
is dead, and at once begins to decay. Yes, but I
will say that the horse certainly has also a soul, so
far as a soul is necessary to animal life. The
Greeks and the Romans described the animal life of
the beast and that of a man by the same words. It
was the same word which they used for the soul
of a man. And they were right, so far as it is
reasonable to say that a beast has a soul, but not so
highly endowed as the soul of man. It has all the
power that a man's soul has to keep the body alive.
In this respect it is as good a soul as any of us have,
but it is wanting in all the endowments which make
human existence so grand and glorious. There can
be no reasonable objection to calling this animal en-
dowment a soul. All language is to serve us, and
the word soul must serve like all other words. If
it be complained that it makes the word convey an
indefinite meaning, I answer that the souls of men
are far from being equal in power. Then there is
likeness with diversity between man and animals
in every part of their being. Their bodies have
organs which may be nourished by the same food,
but they cannot be taught to do the same things.

The limbs of an animal are not as susceptible to
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162 RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST BY NEGLECT.

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education as those of a man. Why then should the
beast not have a soul also less susceptible to instruc-
tion and elevation ? Some animals can enter in
some small deforce into fellowship with man. They
can reach up just to the lowest side of his nature.
That is all. But the human soul is so nobly endowed
that man reaches up throu^^h all the staf^es of a
develo})ing ambition, through the concjuest of king-
doms, through tlie triumph over the material
universe, through all the secrets of nature, and the
high and divine mysteries of knowledge, until at
last the higher side of his nature reaches away into
the heavens, and linds its highest goal in fellowship
with God, just as the noblest animals begin to have
fellowship with the nature of man. In God man
lives, moves and has his being. There is something
wrong and unnatural in any man who feels in him-
self no want of God. I know that through the
misfortune of human sin men fail to recoofnize this
want. Until awakened to the high aims for which
their nature was created, they are like a tree which
stands in its little plot of ground, and is all uncon-
scious that it is ever}^ moment feeding upon the
affluent air, and drawing from the exhaustless
treasures of the patient earth. It thinks it is all
contained in itself. So are many men. They live
upon God and know it not. They deny Him, and
yet He is the constant spring of their existence.

1. I begin with the soul's hunger for God. That
the human soul, in its normal state, does hunger for

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RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST nV NEGLECT.

163

God is as true as that the body needs food. It is as
natural as for a woman to crave affection. It is
simply the child nature in man, which never is en-
tirely lost from him, craving and cryinf^ out for its
father. The infant's clini^ing to his father is but
the babyhood of the human desire for God. The
infant loves and obeys and depends with sweet, im-
plicit confidence upon his parent; but with passing
years all this feeling of dependence is outgrown.
The father is the same to him as another man,
except in the atfection which survives because of
the tender and precious associations of the past.
The fact is that the infant has transferred to (rod, in
every natural and proper case, all the feelings
which during infancy it bestowed upon the human
father. I say in every natural and proper case,
because it is agreeable to the nature j^iven to us to
grow up into God. God is the first, the last, and
the supreme want of the human soul.

Here we see the high glory of our being. A stone
can know nothing. Some vegetables have a sli<rht
])erception of touch. They can feel what produces
no impression upon a stone. But the higher orders
of animals all have the five senses in a high degree
of development. Some of them seem to possess the
power of purely intellectual operations, to some
small degree, at least as much as is involved in acts
of memory and association.

But man leaps at one stroke immeasurably
beyond all these achievements, and dashes on in pur-

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164 RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST BY NEGLECT.

suit of all knowledge. He boldly connects fact
with fact, and so builds up a grand structure of
reasoning. He places his foot upon a simple known
truth which lies upon the surface of the earth as it
were, and the last conclusion in his argument
touches the distant skies. He sends his thouirht
down through the mysteries of nature. The scien-
tific man's insight into nature amounts almost to
prophecy. But this power is not the highest faculty
of knowledge possessed by him ; it is not the faculty
of which I am speaking. Incalculably higher than
this is the faculty by which man knows God. It is
not the ability to rise by induction from nature up
to nature's God, to reach the reasonable conclusion
that the visible universe had a maker, and that
maker is God, to follow the winding path of infer-
ence until at last it triumphantly lands him at the
Godhead — not that alone is man's highest faculty of
knowledge, but from within himself is opened a
window directly upon the Deity, and through it
pours down from God upon the soul a revelation, as
it were, of the existence of God, and in some
measure of His character. In this way a man be-
comes as confident of the existence of God as he is
of his own existence. " And hereby we do know
that we know Him."

2. Another religious talent is man's ability to be
impressed, enlightened, influenced, guided and led
by the Spirit of God. " As many as are led by the
Spirit of God." " He will guide you into all truth."

RELIGIOUS ("APACITV LOST BY NEGLECT. IGo

" He shall receive of mine, and shall show it nnto
you." Now, this capacity is peculiar to man. But,
you ask, may not the IJivine Spirit work throuij^h
any medium ? Why, yes, the Spirit once used chaos,
out of which to make a world. The Spirit once
used the ass, which Balaam rode, to reprove a i^uilty
man. And so He may do at any time ; but these
were miraculous manifestations of the divine power.
The point is, that when the Spirit speaks to and
through man's heart, it is no miracle at all, but is
simply the natural way of doing this work. Man's
nature was made to be dealt with in this manner.
He has a faculty^ through which it can be accom-
plished, and it is man's normal condition to receive
communications from God in this wny. The Spirit
of God could not speak through a book, or a block of
wood, without tirst workinsf a 'miracle, and endow-
ing the book or block with power or faculty to
receive such a communication. ;^But, in man's case
no miracle is necessary, for he has the faculty
already. It was through this faculty that inspira-
tion came upon men. This was only a higher and
fuller degree of communication. Man is yet capable
of receiving knowledge by inspiration. Now, what
a crowning distinction of man is this ! There is
nothing like it in any creatures of which we have
any positive knowledge. The more intelligent
animals give us a faint idea of this high (piality in
human nature. " The sheep know the shepherd's
voice, and a stranger will they not follow, but will

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160 RELIGIOUS CAPACITV LOST l'.Y NEGLECT.

fiee from him, for they know not the voice of
stranj^ers." — John x. 45. They know the voice of
their master. Tliey submit to the f^uidance of that
voice. This is the highest to which they can rise.
But man rises into a capacity to be t^uided directly
by God Himself.

3. Yet another distinct leligious talent is the
capacity to feel a sense of obligation to God. This
will appear to be a distinctly marked faculty of the
human soul, if you will take the trouble to under-
stand just what obligation to God is. It is not the
obligation which a man feels when he has been
served with a writ, and then for the first time says
that he " ought " to pay that debt ; or what another
feels when he is violating the law and sees a police-
man coming, and then he says, " I ought to get away
from here '"' ; or what one feels when guilty of a fla-
grant theft, and then he says, " I ought to cross the
national boundary." There are many examples of
men usinij " I ought " in such a sense as that. A
dog might speak with as high a sense of obligation.
He is robbing the kitchen and sees the owner
approach, and he says, " I ought to get out from
here," and forthwith he sets to work to get out.
Now, the " I ought " of a man must be of more bind-
ing obligation than the " I ought " of a beast, or it
is unworthy the name of obligation at all. When I
speak of that endowment whereby man has the
ability to say " I ought," 1 mean that he can feel in
the highest sense his obligation as unto God. I mean

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY IJJST BY SEGLECT, 167

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the sense of obligation wliieh bends the weary toiler
under his heav^y task for love's dear sake. I mean
that sense of obligation which leads the traveller
over stormy seas, and bleak barren mountains, until
at last upon his long-strained eyes there bursts
afjain the loved si<;ht of home. I mean the sense oi
obligation which carries the soldier over bloody
fields and sends him home at last with an empty
sleeve, or a woo(]en leg, or stretches him out to die on
the plain, under the blazing stars, his last thought
being of the loved home he shall never see again,
and his last prayer for the loved ones whom he has
sacrificed for his country, or that those who live in
conunff af]jes may be free. I mean the "I ou'dit"
which carries the missionary, with wife and children,
away from the home of their early year< to spend
their lives annd scenes of savagery, and under the
rank superstitions and gross domestic customs of
heathen peoples. I mean the " I ought " which tears
the martyr from a mansion of splendor, from
wealth and ease, and from holy love, and leads him
up to the stake or the gibbet to die without a mur-
mur. It is the " I ought " which carries Jesus
through Gethsemane, and up to Calvary, and makes
even the despised cross a better thing than shame
and a denial of the truth.

Such a sense of obligation as this is like the step
of the Almighty in the human soul. It is as solemn
and weighty and awful as the walking of the
Almighty in the garden at evening time.

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168 RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST BY NEGLECT.

*!!

Now, this is a separate religious faculty. It is
not merely a conviction that arises in the mind
from rea.soninor about the relative value of good and
evil, of wisdom and folly, of truth and righteous-
ness. It is a divine gift, a distinct endowment of
man's nature, bestowed upon him in his creation.
It is a capacity possessed by no other creature of
which we have knowledge.

4. Yet another, and the last of these religious
faculties which I will mention now is faith. I
mean faith in God. There is faith everywhere. In
the world of business it is omnipotent. In social
life it is the foundation of all happiness. But I mean
a distinct faith which has God for its object. This
is to religion what experiment is in natural science.
For example, a philosopher has certain theories
about light. But he knows nothing truly as yet.
However, he begins to experiment. It is Newton.
He failed to prove what he desired to prove about
light because his experiments were at fault. He
allowed the light to enter a darkened chamber
through a round hole instead of through a long
narrow slit. It seems a small thing; nevertheless,
failing to humor nature in so small a thing as that,
she would not give him her confidence, and he failed
to prove what he was convinced was the truth. He
died without the knowledge. But another remedies
the defect, and analyzes the sun's ray, and by his
successful experiment makes knowledge of what
was only theory before.

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST RY NEOLECT. 169

Well, now, so does t'aitli operate in relij^ion. I
Itelieve that God is. My father taught !ne to be-
lieve that. When I saw him upon his knees, and
with bare brow, his face turned toward the skies, I
felt that in that spectacle I had a sufficient proof
for me that there is a God. I must believe it. I
could do no other. But with later years I came to
God by way of experiment. I be^^an to test by ex-
periment, like Newton, what I had before believed.
When a man thus tries God by faith, feelin*^ his
way toward the Almii^hty, he is made over in the
imaj:je of God, he feels in his heart the movements
of the divine life, and takes upon himself all that is
communicable of the divine nature. Then by ex-
perience he has persotial, positive knowledge of
what he only believed before.

Now, this capacity is given to man alone, so far
as we have a knowledge of the creatures of the
universe.

II. Without seekinof farther for relijiious talents,
we insist upon these. Here they are, a distinct part
of human nature. Their existence nuist be admitted,
except by two classes of persons. Thv^re are, first,
those >ipon whom the extreme penalty of the law
stated in this text has been executed. Of course
such persons cannot discover these talents in them-
selves, and they are naturally enough disposed to
deny that they exist. Such persons will say that
they exist only in iuiagination, that a man can
imagine anything he chooses about himself, and that

ill

170

RELKiloUS CAPACITV I.OST JiV NKCiM'XT.

•M

k>ii

if those wlio talk of such thini^s were properly edu-
cated, tlu^y would at once see that there are no dis-
tinctly reli;^ious faculties in man.

Then there are others who have not f^one so far
in the experience of loss. These faculties are not
yet amiihilated hy ne(,dect, hut they are only dor-
mant. The person may be described as spiritually
asleep. As a sleepin^r man does not know that he
has hands or feet, so these persons do not discover
in themselves any such talents as I have described.
This last is the condition of crowdini^ multitudes of
men, both in and out of the church.

Now, how much confidence is to be placed in the
judgment of these naturally dis(|ualitied persons on
this matter ;* I know some persons who are utterh'
incapable of carrying on any reasoning process.
Other faculties are yood in them, but thev have no
faculty of argument. The}^ cannot take a fact and
from it reach a conclusion. They cannot see the
force of two facts placed together. Now, suppose
such a person should presume to say to some mathe-
matician that man has no reasoning faculties, he
knows that he has not, because he cannot under-
stand such a thinof as reasoning;, and he knows there
cannot be any such faculty in himself. What con-
fidence would the mathematician have in his judg-
ment on the matter ? He would merely laugh at
the simple man. Well, now, is it any more reason-
able for men who have neglected the religious
nature until, according to the law here stated to us,

KELIGIOirS CAPACITY I-OST MY NEGLECT. 171

their faculties for relifjfion have died of ne<:jlect, to
assert that man has no relii^jious nature, and to
fortify the decision by a reference to their own
hi<:fhly cultivated intellect? To all who have not
abused their natute, either by scorning; all reliu^ion,
or by ^'oinf^ to church for the sake of fashion, whe^o
they are never made to search tlieir ovvn hearts,
these religious faculties are as orenuine and as real
as the power to remember or reason is to the philo-
sopher.

III. We come now to the full force of the law
stated in the text. We shall only dwell upon the
last part of it — the declaration that the neglect to
use shall be punished with obliteration.

1. Observe that this is in harmony with Scrip-
ture. This text is clear and stron<; enouijh. " From
him that hath not shall be taken away even that
which he hath." This means that from him who
uses not. This is in harmony with the tij,^urativ«'
style of Scripture. It is in harmony with fact also,
for in the true sense a man has only what he uses.
"Take therefore the talent from him." That is the
saddest word in the universe. It is the declaration
of judicial loss by neglect. A^^ain, take the words,
"The heart of this people is waxed f];ross and their
ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have
closed lest at any time they should see with their
eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand
with their heart, an<l should be converted, and I
should heal them." This passage appears first in

I 1 1 I i

I i

I I

172 iiELirjious CAiAcnv lost hy neglect.

Isrtiali. There it has a form very coiniiion in the
Old Testament. The person speak in<^ is represented
as causin<^ the effects wliich he describes. In the
New Testament tlie man is represented as himself
causinfj the efiects. Now, put tlie two forms to-
f(('ther, and we ^et the true, full nieanini^. It comes
as a natural result froui the man's own neglect, l)ut
all the same it is a judicial ])unishment for the
man's ne<,dect of his opportunities and endowments.
2. This result is in harmony with a law which
prevails everywhere in the universe. Your pro-
perty becomes of less value if it is not kept in use.
This is the case with every organ of the body. An
unused limb soon f,nows hel})less. When a limb is
broken, it must remain for some time surrounded
with bandai^es, and the result is that the joints be-
come stiff, and can recover their natural elasticity
only by an experience of severe, and often long-
continued, pain Shut all light from the eye and it
would soon lose the power to see. I have read of
fish in the (jjent mammoth cave of Kentucky, which
have no eyes. They are of the same species as
other Hsh in neighboring waters outside the cave, in
which the eyes are natural in form and function ;
but through long generations being shut up in utter
darkness, where eyes would be of no use, nature has
refused to continue making eves for them, and only
scars are seen where eyes should be. It is the same
with the intellect. A faculty unused becouies weak
and incompetent for action. When one has had no

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST HY NEGLECT. 173

opportunities of education in youtli, it is with diHi-
eulty that he can ao(iuii-e even tlie siuiplest elements
of education in after years. I liave seen a man of
twenty-five mai\in<:j more effort to learn to ruad
words of one syllable than the most of us would re-
(juire to master a diflicult work in science or mathe-
matics. In some states, for many years criminals
were shut up in solitary confinement. Thus shut
out from all communic ition with their fellow-hcinjjfs
many of them became idiotic. The intellect, de-
prived of any proper fiehl of action, was destroyed.

Now, we find that this law prevails in every other
sphere into which we may look, is it not reason-
able to suppose that it would also ]n'evail in regard
to the faculties upon which relii^ion depends for its
existence ? And so much the more as these facul-
ties can find no exercise except in reliLjjion ? A man
cannot be place<l in circumstatices in which he will
not give some little exercise to the intellect, but his
religious nature is never used at all except as he
with design devotes himself to God.

3. Experience confirms all that has been said on
this subject. Ask a not thoroughly bad man of
forty. He tells you that he has no interest in reli-
gion. Yet he will speak with a good deal of feeling
of the tenderness which he felt when he was a boy
and later ; and there will be some pathos in his word
and voice as he declares that he wishes that he could
have the same feelings now. This tenderness proves
that his faculties are not yet destroyed. They are

174 RELIGIOUS ('AI'A( ITY LOST BY NE(iLFXT.

only dormant. The man is spiritually asleep. If
he would bend his attention to the subject, if he
would look into his own heart, it' he would be<^in to
pray, with tlie first aj)prc)ach to the throne of God
he would find his rehi^ious power returniui; to hitn
aixain. Hut let him go on as he has been doinff, and
when he is seventy years old, ask him a<j^ain the
.same searehin<^ (juestions, and he will yet tell you
that he feels no interest in these thini^s ; lait there
will be this ditl'erence, the ))athos\vill be ^^one, there
will be no tenderness (jr re_L(ret as he makes the
confession tliat he does not care for these things.
He is old, he cannot be far from di^ath, and he
knows it; yet at a time wheii you would expect
him to be most concerned on his prospects for tiie
future, he is indiflerent, and .shows no si«^ns of feel-
uvj^. Now, what does this mean but that he lias
surt'ered a judicial loss of all power to be relij^ious.
He could not become a Christian now. Of course
this is an illustrative case, the like to which may be
found in actual life. Still many liave been .saved
after seventy who had always ne<;lected reliiifion
beft)re. i*robably no one's ])ovver to be reli^dous is
wholly lost, however much it may be im])aired.
until just before he dies. The Spirit will then
cease to strive with man.

Now, if these considerations have any force with
your nnnds, the next thouL,d»t is wliat are you ^oini,^
to do about it ? Some t)f you have been so full of
business that you have never found any time for
religion. You are not more tender and susceptible

RELIGIOUS CAPACITY LOST MY NEGLECT. 17.")

than you were ten years a<j^o. Will you allow the
process of destruction to ^^o on until there is no
power left in you ? That is to he lost. There are many
helonsfinu: to one church or another, who use tlieir
church for worldly ends. They would have nothinj^
to do with it only that it is fashionahle to have
a church. They are nej^lectinff their souls under
the most deceptive and danjjjerous circumstances.
The}' lose reli^aon in depende'.ce upon a fashionahle
church. There can he hut on* i nd to this process.

Let us not fori^et that this loss of power is hell.
It is the true idra of ])erdition. That means a wast-
ing]; away. It is simi)ly decay. The only sui^^es-
tion that can j^row out of this study, except that
the punishment of the lost will be eternal, is that
the lost will continue to decay into final and com-
plete extinction. But a<i^ainst this is the fact that
many of the other powers of manhood have (ijrown
stroncf while thereli<^ious nature has heen destroyed,
and these other powers have become proportionately
stronner because the liiiiher nature has be(;n allowed
to j)erish by di r^ay. The intellect will have its full
]>ower i\\\i\ life. It will be vi^'orous enouL,di to pre-
serve to a man a knowletl^'e of his identity. The
faculties most con.Njdcuous in devils irretrievably
lost are the njental ])ovvers. They are not re]>re-
sented as havini,' anythiiii; that suijnrests a reliu^ious
faculty. There can be hell enou<rh to a man wlio
has lost all his relifjious faculty. No; there is no
where any comfort or encourajj^ement to any who
are nei'lectin<; their reli;j:ious nature.

THE CHOICE OF MOSES ; OR, THE

BEST OF SIN vs. THE WORST

OF RELIGION.

*' liy faitli Moses, when lie was come to years, refused to be
called the son of Pharaoh's daui,'hter ; choosing ratlier to suffei'
atHiction with the people of (led, than to enjoy tlie pleasures of
sin for a season." — Hehkkw.s xi. 24, 25.

MUSKS aj^ain I Yes, there is so much of Moses
that he is not easily exhausted ! Some
mountains tower in majestic grandeur, not only
above all the plain, hut ahove all other mountains;
HO, a few men, in self-contained, (iod-anointed i^reat-
ne.ss and power, rise above all other leaders, rulers,
and con<|uerors ! Moses was one of the first, as he
yet remains one of the most conspicuous of these
remarkable fij^ures.

Just now vou are to think of him stantlinj; hi<xh
enoutrh to be seen by all the hunmn race. A jireat
beam is balanced over his head, after the manner of
a beam in a pair of scales. To one end is attached
all relii^ion, with the very worst that any man can
ever experience with it ; to the other is suspended
all that in the best circumstances can be realized in
a life of sin. Over the head of Moses the balance
is being adjusted between these two unfairly

THE CilOlCi; OK .MUSLS.

177

weiufhtcd scales. T say unfairly weijj^hted — it is
certainly an exce])tional arranixenient to weiirh all
that is poorest of one thini^ ai^ainst all that is best
in another. (Generally it is the hest a^^ainst the
l)est, and the worst ajjfainst tiie worst. It cannot be
a fair test that ])Uts the worst of one thin<; a'.jainst
the best of another. Vet so balanced, over the head
of Moses, influenced bv his whole thoU'dit and life,
the beam i?iclines decidedly on the side of relii'ion.
Its vivTst is better than the best that a life of sin

can give.

Now, we are in<lebted to Moses for this discovery.
He was so situated that he nni;ht have had in ])er-
petuity all the best side of a life of sin. Hv inii^ht
have enjoyed " the pit:vsure'^ of sin for a season."
It was also true that as the i les then were, and as
he was situated, if he chose C il and His people, he
could oidy reali/e the worst tl at can come from a
reliLjious life. Yet he turned Ms back upon these
"pleasures of sin," and chose -o "sutler atlliction
with the p(!Ople of (iod." This remarkable choice
has balanced these two over a*;* inst each other to
so stand forever in the eye o the world in an
eternal alHrmation that the very est that any man
can reali/e from a life of sin is 1 ss to be desired
than the very worst tliat can ev(i l>e experienced
from a life of devotion to God and fellowship with
his people.

I say we are indebted to Moses fo this convincin*^
testimony. Nowhere else are the ^ Lrong claims of
12

;

wmi

178

THE (HOKE OK .MOSES.

religion set forth so irresistibly. This act of his
was a typical act for the henetit of all tiie nj^^es. It
appeals to us here now. There is not one of us
who may not consider this matter with ail vantage to
himseif. What multitudes think of religion, feel
that they need it, intend well, but put ofi' any
personal devotion to it from year to year, their life
meanwhile speeding on I lltligious desire fades
away into inditierence. IndiH'erence hardens often
into actual opposition. The capacity to receive any
impression from the Holy Spirit is wholly lost.
Then pretty soon, in an unexpected hour, death
comes along and knocks the man oti' the pedestal on
wh.ich he has boasted that he could stand forever, and
his soul is damned.

To avert so i^reat a calamitv, let me urt'e you to
choose religion as the basis of your life structure.

I. I will first turn your thought to the very worst
aspect in which religion can be placed before you
in asking your acceptance.

1. The worst that can be said of it is that it may
cause you to experience attliction. That includes all
worldly loss and persecution, and injury to character
and person, and martyrdom.

Certainly some men have found that the begin-
ning of a religious life was to them the be«^inning
of a life of trials. So many have suffered on
account of their professing the C'hristian faith that
the Church .seems to the eve of the wtjrld as the
chosen mark at which all the arr«)\\s of I'vil desi-rn

THE ("HOICK OF MOSKS.

179

have been aimed in times past. It seems, in many
pori<)<ls of its liistoiy, to have «lrunk to the dreijjs a
hitter cup more tlian full. 80 many have sutiered
the spoilini^ of their i^'oods, and the loss of their lives,
on account of their profi'ssion, that the Christian
Church .seems di.stinguished in history by its alllic-
tions.

Tiien, in addition to these facts, there are .some
passaj^es of Scripture which seem to indicate that
it is tlie will of (I(jd, that tho.se who profe.ss faith in
Him shall .sutf'er ])erseeution. Such are the words
of the psalmist : ' Many are the atHietions of the
rii(hteous": and tlui words of .lesus, " In the worhl
ye shall have trihulation " ; and t'»ose of l*aul. " If
ye be without ehasti.sement, then are ye bastards
and not sons."

Now, puttiu<.^ these facts and these words together,
it is stating the matter with sutlicient mihlne.ss to
say that if ycni embrace the religion of Christ y<>u
may lln<l some alHiction in conse({uence of your
])rofession.

2. Hut it is necessary to the truth to say also
that you may not have atliiction on accoiuit of your
faith and professit>ii.

It is certainly wrong to regard sutt'ering as an
inevitabh' eonse(|Uence of an attachment to Christ.
Many have the idea that it is a sa«l thing Un any

one to become a Christin

I'h

ev associate a re-

ligi»)Us life with the loss of ever 'thinLT that uuikes
life in this world desirable. It .sejms to them that

r^ -1 I

1 ^ 5

♦t

ISO

THE CHOICK OF MOSES.

to espous(3 the cause ot* Christ will be to lie down
upon a l)e'l of sorrows, and to awaken a^ain to
sorrow and pain. Tlu'y will dwell in a land of
shadows, and hold fellowship with all that is dark
and melancholy. But this is a very much exa^-
f^erated view of the possibilities in the way of atllic-
tion that lie in the path of the Christian profession.
Why, that was not true of Christ's people in the
darkest a^'es of the Church's history. Even when
the Church was passin^j through the hottest fires all
did not burn. All were not martyrs. All did not sutler
loss. It is true that all would sufier more or less in
such times from the fearful apprehension of what
mii^ht fall upon them. Every day they would dra^;
the heavy hours aloni^, pressed under the burden-
some thouLdit that thev knew not in what hour
they miiiht be drajjfo'ed to their death. This was
certainly bad enoujjfh. Hut these fears would be
greatly relieved by that hope which burns eternal in
the human breast, that they mii^ht wholly escape.
Every day that passed without harm would only
make the hope take a stronj^er hold upon them.
But even when persecuting^ iires were hottest, farther
than this fear of what mi^ht come, the <^reater
number of the Christians s'lfl'ered no more than if
they had never heard of C'hrist. We overlook this
fact in readinir the history of the Church in the
past. It is very much like this. We read that the
cholei'a is spreading with tremendously fatal results
in Spain. Thousands iiave already died, and thou-

TiiK < HOICK OF M()sf:s.

181

sands more are sure to «,'(). When Spain is men-
tioned, therefore, we at onee thiidv of elioh'ra, and
associate the idea of fearful danL,'er with the name
of this hind, thoui;li as a matter of fact the dan<^er
has not heen near the vast mass of the Spanish
people. Where one has died ten tliousand and more
have not been in any dan;^fer. lUit all the same,
everyone is all the time disti'essed with the fear
that it may eome near to them. Now, that is just
the way it is witli the Church. We rememV)er the
cases where ^fvvat tri))ulations have heen endured
because of a profession oF the faith of Christ, but
we are unmindful of the much (greater number of
those who have not suffered at all.

In the same way we are to understand the pas-
safjes of Scripture which paint so dark a lot in this
world for those who make a profession of Christ's
name. They relate not to each indi\ idual, l)iit to
the Church as a whole. Those spoken of by Christ
and the disciples referre<l to a tinu^ that was then
near at hand when the people of (Jod sboultl pass
throui^h some dark days. They meant no more
than that duriiiij; these days so many should sutler for
Christ's name that it would seem as if anyone could
not bear His name without fallini; mider the rod of
aliliction. Hut these w rds did not nuan that
everyone who should take upon him the mime of
Christ should be persecuted. To make them bear
this meanin<^ would (vxpose then> to contradiction by
facts that are known to all. All the early believers

T^ 1

' 11

182

THE CHOKK OF MOSES.

do not rest in martyr's nrravos, down in the deep
silence of the cataconihs. \o, the Scriptures do not
teach tliat all individual believers will fall under
persecution, or special affliction, on account of their
faitli. It is true of by far the j^reatest number of
those wlio have borne tlie Cln'istian name that tliey
have liad no ijjreater trials in this world than if they
had not borne the name of Christ at all. It is true
of t]ios(3 wlio are Christians to-(hiy. 'J'he novice may
feel the stinjjr of his companion's ridicule and the
sneer of j^odU^ss men. Temptations to commit sin,
which he would not have felt as a trial before, be-
cause he would not have resisted them, will torment
him now ; but farther than this he feels no re-
proach in the cross to-day. Christian men grow
rich, and suffer poverty, side by side with those who
make no acknowledujment of Christ and His cause.
Thoy enjoy vii^orous health in person or family, or
die indiscriminately in the same atmosphere. So
that there is nothini^ in the facts to justif}^ us in be-
lieviniT that as anyone commits himself to God and
His cause, he is set upon as marked for special dis-
pensations of affliction.

So while we warn you that a profession of faith
in Christ may lead to your suffering some afiiictions,
it is just as true that you may never have any such
experience. God liolds in His hands the power, and
reserves to Himself the right to afflict any of
His people for the discijiline of their character, <(ras
an exau'ple to others of patience in trials, or as an

THE CIIOMK Ol' MOSKS.

is^

exhibition of tlie power of His t^race to sustain
under ^^reat tribulation-^. Hence each believer should
be warned tliat this niav fall to his lot; but he
should also know that this is the worst that ever
comes with a life of faith in the Redeemer.

Now, here is tlie w<)rst side. If you turn to
Christ you may have atHictions, or you may not.

II. W^e turn now to the other side, that is to the
best a man can have if he determines to live in sin.

]. There is tirst the fact tliat he may have a life
of pleasure — " The pleasures of sin for a season " —
this is what is otlered.

1. There may be pleasure in a life of sin. Some-
times it is said l)y some eai'nest advocate of reliorion,
that there is no pleasure in sin — this is a mistake in
every way. It is no recommendation to religion to
tell a person that he finds no pleasure in the manner
of life which he lives, wh«'n his own senses contra-
dict what you say. That advocacy will not advance
reli'don. A man may say that he himself Hnds no
pleasure in a certain course, but he has no ri'j;ht to
say that no other finds pleasure in it. A j^'odly
man may well say that he rinds no ph'asure in sin,
just as a vile man may say that he Hnds no pleasure
in a prayer-meetin^^ The fact is that there is pleasure
in both to the person whose tastes (jualifv him to
enter into it. You may find a company of men and
women readin<; and talkin<; al)Out the Word of God.
They also bow down in prayer. They lift radiant
faces. They do not seem to want enjoyment in

1«4

THK (HOICK OF MOSES.

their einployrnent. Y(!t many persons will locjk
upon them with pity hecause they liave no more
excitin<^ mo(h' of pleasure than that. A^jain you
may find a company sp<'n(iini( the tl^'in^ hours ami<l
the j^aieties of a fasliionalde ball-room. They dance,
they drink, they j«'st and trille, ami they certainly
Hnd pleasure in that mode of spendini; tlieir time.
Another would not perhaps find any ])leasure there;
but they do, and it is ahsurd to .say that there i.s no
pleasure in such pursuits. Take a man wlio is fast
running down the scale throui^di <l)-unkenness.
There is nothing hut ruin l)efore him. He sees the
disgrace of his family, the (h^gradation of him.self
until his own children shall with difficulty not de-
spise him. His own life is also at stake. No one
knows all this better than he. Yet he drinks, and
goes down on his knees to beg for drink. He will
lie in a manner that would once have shocked him
as being the gate of hell. All this he will do, and
then are you iroing to tell him that there is no
pleasure in his sin ( It may be that now it has be-
come a dreary pleasure ; but it is the feeding of the
inextinguishable and insatiable tires of an appetite
that seems to have written itself upon every fibre
of his muscular and nervous being. Even yet all
the pleasure he is ca])able of receiving is found in
the drink. But he remembers a time when the
drink meant all delights. The rousing company,
the high excitement, the mirth, the brilliancy, every-
thing that a man could desire was found in the
drink and associated with it.

TIIK <'m>irK OK MoSKS.

is.-)

No, there is no use of t«'lliiiL,' anyone that tlien* is
no pl(.'asure in sin.

There an^ two classes wlio may deny tliat tliere is
any pleasure in sin. There are some who say this
(lonrmatically, because they are unwillinuf to allow
anvthin«r to those who are on a different side from
themselves. Such persons try, some of them, to
sweep everything het'ore them hy mere force of will.
Their a<lvocacy will not helj) any cause, except
amonff those who are inca})alile of thiid-cinLC, or of
forminfj any opinion from facts which all may ob-
serve.

But still some others may say the same tliiuir
because they speak com])aratively. They speak ti uly
their own experience. They know what sin is.
They have drained its cu]x Then when they had
proven all its sweets, they turned to Christ. They
have walke<l in the path of the Christian lon<^
enoufjh to know what it can i-ive. Thev hav(» not
for<^otten what their old life was. In compariui,^
the past with the present they find their walk with
Christ so much more pure, and din^nitied, and sure
as to the results, that they say that in comparison
with what they now eniov there is no T)leasure in
sin, and in speak inj]^ thus they are certainly true.

2. But now haviuLj fairly admitted that there is
pleasure in sin, you must Laniard apiinst believin^^
more than the truth on this subject. It is not ad-
mitted that there is pleasure in every form of sin.
The text does not say anythini^ of that, kind. It

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IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

^" IM 12.2

11116

2.0

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186

THE CHOICE OF MOSES.

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only admits that a person may find a life of pleasure
in a life of sin. But then he may not. There is
just as much uncertainty about tliis as there is
about findinnr affliction with Christ and His people.
On one side it must be said tliat you may find afflic-
tion with the people of God, and you may find
pleasure in a life of sin. But there is some uncer-
tainty on both of these things. Then on the other
hand you may go with God and His people and
escape any special affliction altogether, and you may
live a life of sin and not find it a life of pleasure.

3. Then notice what it is you get with sin. It is
only pleasure in the best case. You do not get
peace. Now, the difference between peace and
pleasure is so great that it should not go unnoticed.
Pleasure is only a ripple on the surface of the
waters, peace is that profound calm that reaches to
the very depths. Pleasure is the surface joy that
makes lambs leap in the field, and kittens purr by
the fire ; but peace is the persuasion of innocence,
or of safety, that makes a man calm and self-
possessed, when death, under arms, stands at his
door. It is the man appointed to martyrdom asleep.
It is the child's innocence.

4. Then notice that it is only the pleasures of sin
" for a season." They are not a permanent posses-
sion. They will not last a man his lifetime, but only
while the body maintains its vigor ; and they, more
than work or study, will hasten to undermine that
vigor. When the man begins to break down, the

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THE CHOICE OF MOSES.

187

pleasure is at an end. Oh, I think ot boys and
young men, smoking and drinking, and when they
say that it makes them feel better, every man of
experience knows that that is true, but it is draw-
ing upon capital all the time. A young man has
S50,000 at five per cent. There are S2,500 for him
to live upon every year. But lie forms extravagant
habits and tastes. He can spend S5,000 per annum.
I expostulate with him. But he says, "I feel better
than if I spent only S2,5()0." Now, I do not doubt
that ; but I am thinking about his future when his
capital will be all gone. At the end of four years he
will hoA'e less than S40,000 capital. In a little
more than fifteen years his fortune will be all
wasted. Yet that is just what so many are doing
with the strength of their bodies.

III. Now, let us set this matter fairly before
the mind. Take religion at the worst. You stand
in the glorious company of Paul, and Peter, and
Polycarp, and Perpetua, and Wicklifie, and Calvin,
and Wesle3% and Lady Huntington, and Bishop
Simpson, and Spurgeon, and Queen Victoria, and
indeed of all the people you most honor, both
livincr and dead. Take those whom you wish to be
like in old age, and when you come to die ; every
one of them is found in this class. Did not religion
make these persons great and noble as they are in
your esteem ? Would Queen Victoria be what she
is in the admiration of the world without the
profession of Christ ? Indeed, instead of that she

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THE CHOICE OF MOSES.

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III

might be no more loved than ca Brunehaut or a
Fredegonde. It is something to me that I am
building my character and life upon the same plan
as that which has made the greatest and best people
what they were.

But turn to the other side and what do you see ?
A widely different class. Here you join the com-
pany of V^itellius, and Cleopatra, and Nero, and LoUia
Paulina, and Charles II., and Aaron Burr, and the
people of the style of Madame DuBarry, and all
those whom you intend and desire least of anything
to be like. You shrink from any resemblance to
them in age ; for the world, you would not lie on
their bed in death.

Would not religion have saved these from beinfj
such people that contempt grows rank at the men-
tion of their names ? What they were in a great
place, any of us will be in our little sphere, if we
build upon the same principles.

I said in beginning this sermon that the scales
were unfairly weighted. Instead of putting the
worst of reliijion against the best of a life of sin, let
us put the average of the one against the average
of the other. Then, if the balance turns decidedly
in favor of reliirion, when this is weighed at a dis-
advantage, what must be the determination when
the two are weighed on equal and fair terms ? In
that case 1 ask you to choose religion probably with-
out any violence of persecution, with the growing
respect and confidence of mankind, with a con-

THE CHOICE OF MOSES,

189

stantly extending influence in the world, with an
envied position in society, with purity and peace
in your own heart, and happiness and security in
your home, ripening into age with a crown upon
your brow, and a sceptre of ever- increasing power
in your hand. This is not an extravagant represen-
tation of what you may find in a religious life, but
is a quite common experience in the Church of
to-day. It is exemplified in the lives of the majority
of Christians whom you see around j'ou.

It is only fair also to put the opposite side of the
((Uestion in different colors. Instead of pleasure in
sin, suppose I say a life of sin without any distin-
guishing pleasures, but instead consumed by envy
and jealousy, filled with a growing spirit of fretful-
ness, discontent, and complaint against everybody
and everything. Finally the health is broken down
by excesses, and the nerves, shattered, are screaming
out in constant pain, and the whole body, as the
years pass, is increasing the food for corruption.
The mind has \oncf been like a cage of unclean birds,
and is a prey to foul and vicious thoughts. The
soul's special gifts have all disappeared as the judi-
cial punishment of neglect, until :.t has no power to
will a good thing, or to desire a pure thing. Thus
festering and tormented under the weight of his
own sins, the poor man, a pest to himself, drags
along his weary way to the grave, illustrating in
himself the words used to describe the condition of
the world at a former time :

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100

THE CHOICE OK MOSES.

" On that hard pagan wcjrkl, disgust
And secret loathing fell,
Deep weariness and sated lust
iMade human life a hell.

" In his cool hall, with haggard eyes
The Roman noble lay ;
He drove abroad in furious guise
Along the Appian way ;

" He made a feast, drank fierce and fast.
And crowned his hair with flowers.
No easier and no ([uicker passed
The impracticable hours."

Now,, this is not an inia<jjinary picture of what a
man may experience in a life of sin. It may be seen
around you every day. It is true of many whom
you know well. They have ridden the life of sin,
and it has done well for them for a time, but at last
their capacity to receive pleasure from it has been
worn out ; and then, like Absalom's mule, it has
walked off from under them, when it has discovered
that they were caught by the hair.

IV. Now, I urge upon you the importance of a
conscious choice between these two at once. It is a
man's duty to decide the grave affairs of life for
himself, and not leave them to settle themselves.
This will settle itself if you do not settle it by a con-
scious choice, and if it settles itself }ouwill find
yourself in the end on the side of sin, without ever
having intended it. It is just as it is with a boy, in
choosing a calling in life. He may decide to pursue
some line of work for a lifetime, and then may
apply himself to it, working himself up to lis re-

THK r'HoiCK OK MOSES.

191

(juirenients, and f^radually risin<]f to competency,
respectal)ilit,y and iiiHuence, while another says
ahout such an important matter, " I will wait, I am
young, there is no hurry," and so leaving the matter
it settles itself, and he just drifts along through life,
taking hold upon anything whicli comes to hand, and
is like a piece of driftwood in a stream. Yet that
is lust the last thinix which he thoui>"ht to be like.
He says, when fifty years of age, and he sees his
former schoolmate in a high and influential position,
"Put me in his place and 1 could do as w^ell as he."
But he cannot he put there. It is impossible. The
time is gone by. Kach of tliese men put himself
where he finds himself at fifty. At twenty years
of iine the one chose an honorable callino;, and
the other said, " I will not be in a hurry." He
waited, and it settled itself as such things always
do, and in a manner that now furnishes him a great
surprise.

Now, this is just the case with those who do not
choose Christ and a religious life. Tha matter
settles itself, and they will be greatly surprised in
the hour of death, and in the day of judgment. Then
as dark horrors come out to meet them, they will
cry out in alarm and despair. This is not what
they intended their life to end in.

1. Now, a person can choose. But you say, " It is
almost impossible. I feel no interest." It is a difficult
thing to do indeed. It is difficult because one must
call his reliijious faculties into exercise in makin-'
this choice, and these faculties have been so nmch

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THE CHOICE OF MOSES.

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neglected that the}' do not act easily. After you
have done no work for some time it is very hard to
f»et your body into \vorkin<^ order. So with these
faculties. This act of choosing Christ is the tirst
distinct act that a man does with tliese faculties. It
is not surprising that he finds it dithcult to act. It
would be surprising if he found it easy. It is like the
man with the withered hand. The hardest thing that
that man ever did was to try to raise up that hand.
After he had once tried he found that he could do
almost anything with that hand. It did not cost him
as much effort to use that hand all the rest of his life
as it did to raise it up that one time. This act of
choice is the lettiu'jf of one's relijjfious faculties out
of prison. It is lifting a great weight oft* from a
spring, so that it may rebound naturally. The
letting one out of prison is not doing all his work,
but it is putting him in a position to do his work.
So is making the choice to be a Christian. After
that prayer and every other duty will become easy.
2. 1 urge this choice upon you because it is
necessary to realize your true destiny. Had Moses
not made the choice he did, the world would have
ceased to remember him ajjes ago. God would have
delivered His people by another hand. But did not
God raise up Moses for this particular work ? Yes,
most certainly. Can a man raised up for a partic-
ular work, fail to accomplish it ? Yes, certainly.
Why, look at the work done by many great men.
Take one example — that of Bonaparte. In any case
he must have been a leader among men, but do you

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THE CHOICE OF MOSES.

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suppose that God raised him up to do the work of
desolation wliich he did ? You cannot believe that.
Just what things he was designee I in the plans of
God to do we cannot tell, but when we see Europe
ijfiven over to absolutism for more than half a
century through his acts, we cannot avoid the con-
viction that he was a man who missed his destiny.
Through his hand, Italy, which for centuries had
been taking lessons in self-government, was pros-
trated under the heels of tyrants, and its people
strugfjled against their adverse fate for between
sixty and seventy years before they could undo the
wrong that was done to them chietiy by Bonaparte.
Now it was in his power to have advanced civiliza-
tion a century ; instead of that he put it back for a
century. There must have been some mistaken
choice in his life to work out such disastrous
results. So might Moses have made a mistaken
choice, and have fallen short of his true work and
destiny. So may you. You cannot tell what great
things God may have in His plan for your life.
Do not defeat those plans by a mistaken choice now.
3. But you cannot know ! You are all in the
dark as to your future ! So was Moses when he
made this choice. So is every man when he makes
the chief decision of his life. I do not say that God
designs you to be a great reformer of abuses, but I
do say that you ought to put yourself right so that
God can use you in his own way, whether it be in a
little or great sphere. The choice must be made in
faith, and in trust for the future.
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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE
DEFECTIVE.

" For we know ia part, and we prophesy in part ; but when that
which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done
away." — 1 Corinthians xiii. 9, 10.

ET US notice the fact stated that our know-
ledge is defective.
Let us seek after a satisfactory reason for this

II.

fact.

III. Let us apply this reason to some departments
of knowledge in which we particularly desire fuller
knowledge.

I. No statement ia more safe than that human
knowledge is at best very imperfect. It commands
but a narrow view, and cannot see far in advance.
There are two fields in which human knowledge
experiences constant humiliation.

1. First, there is the great domain of nature.
Men know just enough of the material universe to
understand that they have scarcely penetrated be-
neath the surface. It is true that the men of to-day
are far in advance of those who lived in former
times. They were poor indeed. One thousand
years ago, the most enlightened men might have
said, " We know in part," in comparison with well-
taught children who live to-day. But all the pride

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

195

of science is abasefl wlien once we think of the
unturned paf,'es in nature's u^reat hook, of wliich men
have as yet deciphered hut the title ])age and some
small portion of its tahle of contents.

2. Then there is the Book of Divine Revelation.
There human knowledge is humhled still more. Into
many boundless realms it opens the door just a little
wav, far enough indeed to till us with adoring
wonder, and to captivate us with the desire of
knowincf all, but not \videly enouf^h to enable us to
enter and explore all. In what great darkness we
are left on many subjects of the weightiest import
when we have read it all ! For example, we feel
that it has not told us half of what we desire to
know concerning God. As to His nature and
man's, and especially concerning our future, there
come surginsT against us like the great waves of the

sea,

" Tlie same old baffling (questions. O luy friend,
1 cannot answer them, in vain 1 send
My soul into the dark, where never burn
The lamps of science, nor tlu* natural light
Of reason's sun and stars. I cannot learn
Their great and solemn meanings, nor discern
The awful secrets of the eyes that turn
Ever more on us through the day and night.

* ■» * *

1 have no answer for myself and thee.
Save that I learned beside my mother's knee :
All is of God that is, and is to V)e,
And God is good. Let this suffice us, still
Resting in childlike trust upon His will
Who moves to His great ends unthwarted by the ill. "

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II. Now, can we find any rea.ionablo explanation of
tliese limitations to our kn()wle(l(^e ? Wliy is the
little we do know shut in on every side by darken-
inor walls ? Sincfi God has fjivon a revelation to the
world, why is not its knowledf^e more full ? After
He has opened the doors, why should we yet have
to say, " We know only in part ? " In the past a
connnon answer to this cjuestion has been that our
ii^norance is necessary to uncrown the soaring pride
of man's heart by lettini^ him feel that he cannot
compass all tliin«^s. It has also l)een often said that
it is a deserved reproof to pryin^^ curiosity. An
example of this species of answer is found in the nar-
rative of a Sunday School teacher's perplexity. A boy
in her class harl been readinsf in the New Testament
of people walkiui^ on the roofs of houses. Now, he
had never seen anythinuj but the pitched roofs so
common in our latitudes, and there the record seemed
to indicate what couhl not be possible in fact. He
was face to face with a great difficulty in interpreta-
tion. According to his age and development, the
ditfiiculty was as great, the obstacle as insuperable as
those by which some men have been cast hopeless
wrecks upon the rocks of infidelity. However, he
went to his teacher for an explanation of the apparent
contradiction between narrative and fact. She did
what she could. She simply put him off by sa)nng
that he must receive the Scriptures on faith, and not
indulge any unholy questionings as to their deep
meanings and difficult points. Now, the superin-

PRESENT KNOVVLEIKJE DEFECTIVE.

1!)7

5he did
■ saying
and not
sir deep
superin-

tendent heard the answer, and afterwards said to
the teacher, " You did not i^'ive the right atiswer to
that (jviestion ? " " No ! " slie «aid, " What ought I
to have answered ^ " " Why," waid he, "The things
that are inipossihle to men are possible to God."

Now, that style of answer is not sutHeient, because
from first to last it is entirely wrong. VV^hy, it seenia
to me that I would not be pufied up with vain pride,
but would be truly luunbled if in my thought I
could walk right up to the Deity's blazing throne
and look upon His infinite nature, and if my eye
could sweep out intelligently over Hi- boundless
universe, understanding the circumstances and con-
ditions of life, and in some measu?" sympathizing
with :• ' sins and conflicts, and sorvuws and
tr'umphs of other rational creatures even apart
from my ow^n race! And I am sure thuL 1 would
not experience the inflation that springs merely
from the gratification of an unholy curiosity ; but
rather that a feelini; of fervent jxi'atitude would fill
my heart if I could know now all that my little
being shall be, when at some time in the future it
shall be perfected and glorified through Christ's re-
deeming work. I know that my tears of thankful
exultation and rapturous praise would fall upon the
dear cross as never before.

And if there were no better reason for withliolding
knowledge than simply to humiliate us, I believe
from what we know of God in other things, it would
be like Hiin to ijive us the fullest knowledge we
could desire.

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

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We must seek elsewhere the reason of our neces-
sary ij^norance. Undoubtedly the prophet's explana-
tion is found in man's incapacity. We reach this
conclusion from all possible analogies in the crse.
All knowledge is gained by man subject to two
hindrances.

1. In the natural world knowledge is limited by
man's ability to ascend originally through the various
progressive steps by which the result is reached.
For example, during all ages, ever since Adam's day,
men have been affected by what we call the law of
gravitation ; but it was not until Newton's day
that the growing intelligence of the race had reached
a culminating point, from which one man stretched
high enough up to generalize from many facts the
one underlying principle. Since then men have
recognized this law.

We know enough indeed, to know continually that
there are truths and facts beatinof against us and
breaking upon us all the time, and yet they leave us
as little informed as waves that break on unknown
shores. Prof. Tyndall has lately shown that in light
are some beams which are black to our eyes. Now,
scarcely anything could be more contradictory to
our common ideas than that the light can have some
beams that are black, though it is commonly known
that any painter will add a dash of lamp-black to
his white lead in order to produce a more perfect
white. Well, these black beams had been constantly
beating upon men through all the ages ; they had

F'RESENT KNOWLKDGE DEFECTIVE.

199

been actint^ upon the philosophers who were busy
investigating^ the truths of nature ; they had
poured throuf^h the eye of Newton, who made lii^ht
a special subject of study, and who advanced farther
into the knowledge of its character than any others
had ever done ; but they remained undiscovered. No
man had yet risen high enough into the ethereal
blue of infinite intelligence to follow up the various
steps in experimental investigations and uncover
the hiding-place of these rays until Dr. Tyndall drew
aside their covering. And so it is with all discovery.
After ages of ignorant groping, someone gathers
in himself the intelligent fruition of all past time,
and takes the original .^teps that uncover some deep
hidden mystery, and " The energy sublime of a cen-
tury bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of
time." Of how many things we are ignorant which
will be familiarly known to those who live after us,
when someone has taken the original steps neces-
sary to pour the revelations of the truth upon
men's minds !

2. The second hindrance to the attainment of
knowledge is the inability to understand it after it
has been once fully discovered. This is the cause
of one's not learning more from divine revelation.
We have not the capacity to understand all that God
has written for our instruction. In this we are as
children at every stage of their mental progress. A
small child may be able to remember the forms and
names of the letters of the alphabet ; but it requires

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

If'

a hifyher intelligence to analyze the several sounds
of those letters, and then to combine them into
words and sentences. One who can do this last can
read, yet lie is not capable of being interested in
heavy philosophical writings, or of reading intelli-
gently the best poetry the ages have produced. A
boy may have an intelligence high enough to learn
and repeat the multiplication table, and yet be quite
incompetent to understand a demonstration in Euclid
which is quite simple to many others. Now, suppose
some of these children should say, " If men write
mathematics and philosophy and poetry at all, why
do they not use such words as will make them
simple, or make their explanations full enough for
us to compr ehend them ? Why are not trigonometry,
and the calculus, and Plato, and Leibnitz, and Shake-
speare and Tennyson so simply written that we can
read them with interest?" It is very plain that
in these cases the answer would be, that though
the child can understand some things, there are
others which are beyond him, and though written
as simply as language can make them, still every-
one will not have the capacity to read and under-
stand them.

Now, the same is true of much that God has
spoken in revelation. A great truth pours all its
light upon men ; but they do not apprehend it
because they have not the natural capacity to take
it in, or they have never 3'et been brought into the
particular circumstances under which, in the nature

PRESENT KNO\VLED(iE DEFECTIVE.

201

of the case, it would be fully understood. Because
of this fact, it is tru^^ that the Bible has been as
much a proj^ressive revelation to mankind as have
the discoveries in nature from one af;e to another.
Indeed, the Bible as a revelation is progressive as to
the individual. Its doors swinjjj more widely open
just as a man's capacity grows, or as his spiritual
understanding rises to a higher {)lane. Some deep
affliction, or great sorrow, leads you to see the en-
larged meaning of a promise which never before had
arrested your attention, or had taken hold upon
your heart. In age, or want, you see the grand
scope of passages to which in youth you gave a very
narrow interpretation.

And this revelation is also progressive with the
ages. New pages in the book are turne<l by time.
The prophets had fuller light than the patriarch ;
and, except as they were exalted by direct inspira-
tion, we can go deeper and see a wider view than
the prophets. Abraham might have said " I know
only in part " in comparison with many children
who live now ; and the most enlightened high priest
in the sacred temple never understood the grand
and far-reaching signilicance of his highlv typical
system of religion as does an intelligent Sunday
School teacher of the present day.

III. Let us now apply this explanation of man's
ignorance to some departments of knowledge where
we particularly desire to know more.

1. How does this idea of our incapacity explain

warn

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

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our ignorance of God ? On no subject do we more
desire an enlar<yement of our knowledge. We have
certain forms of words, such as, " the Trinity in
Unity," and " three Persons and one God." They
do not convey a very clear impression to our minds,
nor do we very well know just what we mean when
we use them. We feel that any attempt to get
under them is like trying to leap over a rock and
strikin<j a^rainst the face of it, and fallinfj back
bruised and broken ; and so when we have read or
repeated these expressions we leave them with the
councils and the schoolmen, and our hungry hearts
send many a questioning word throbbing against
the distant echoing sky, asking that we may know
more of His manner of existence — how He can
know all things, and be ever-present everywhere —
how He can care for all the crowdinjx multitudes of
His countless hungry children.

But we are told that we are not great enough to
comprehend these things from any revelation of
them that could possibly be made. To understand
this is only to understand that God's great life is
inconceivably greater tiian our life. We can only
understand another existence by what we know of
our own. God's existence is so much beyimd our
own that we cannot rise to comprehend it. We see
something like this in a child's effort to understand
the life of a man. Your babe upon its mother's
knee, your growing boy, does not know the mystery
and inspiration of the great life a man or woman

PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

203

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lives, because his own life is not lar^^e enough to
enable him to enter into it. I remember when
friends and relatives used patronizingly to lay their
hands upon our heads and say, "Enjoy yourselves —
make the most of the present, for you are seeing
your best days now ; " but it is a very small con-
ception of life which regards childhood as the best
of it. Why, as for myself, I know that I experience
a jlinging to life, and a delight in its labors and
objects and aims, beyond all expression more strong
and intense than anvthinfj I ever knew in the
bright but empty days of childhood. A child's life
finds its fulness of joy in the simple pleasures of a
passing holiday. How can such a life measure the
life of a man or woman that reaches around the
world, leaps into the distant future, and stretches
away to the far-off skies above him ? I remember
when we were boys we spent many a glad holiday
in the street, and we would dig a small cave, about
as large as our hats, under the ledge of a bank, and
then we would make a hole through the sod from
the top down into the cave, and put a stick through
the hole, and pile small lumps of earth around the
stick, and then we would sit there and shove the
stick up and down, and the lumps wwuld be ground
into tine dust, and our faces would be covered with
it, and our clothes penetrated and filled with it.
We called these our mills, and said we were millers,
and felt very proud to be all covered with the dust
like whitened millers ; but who cannot see that such

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DEFECTIVE.

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millers as we were, were quite incapable of under-
standin<^ from such mills the f^reat milling business
represented by the vast elevators in any city where
f^rain is shipped in lar<]fe quantities. And as it is in
this, so it is in everythinir as between the man and
the child, and as t)ie child cfinnot understand the
man, so much less can we understand God, throui^h
the clearest possible revelation that can ever be
made of Him. Yet as the child approaches to man-
hood he enters more fullv into all the thouofhts and
plans of a man, so in like manner, as we become
spiritual, refined and pure, we become better able to
understand God's great nature and life.

It is very much like this. Some of the lower
animals understand some part of man's life. I
know a lady who has taught her parrot to kiss
her. There seems to be a good understanding be-
tween them. There is much the same friendlv
relation between the Indian and his dog, and the
Arab and his horse. They are intimate companions.
Those dumb brutes obey their masters, and in a
certain sense they love them and cover them with
caressing fondness ; but they do not understand and
know them entirely. Indeed, none of us would feel
tlattered if we thought tho,se creatures could fully
comprehend the life of their master and mistress.
We would feel that our life must be cast upon as
low a plane as theirs ; but we know better than that.
We know that the knowledge these animals can have
of us stops just where the best part of us begins.

PRESENT KNOWLET)r;E DEFECTIVE.

205

They understaii'l something of our animal nature.
That is nearest to them. It is most like the ani-
mal life which alone they live, and as far as
their animal life is like ours, there are some
points of contact between us, and they rise up
into communion with us ; but as soon as we touch
the intellectual and rise into the spiritual part of
our natures, these creatures are shut out entirely
from all syjnpathy and communion with us.

Now, so it is between us and God. We can un-
derstand any revelation of Himself so far as we
share His nature, so far as we are like Him. A ojood
man can understand God's ijoodness. One who is
pure readily reads with correctness the revelation of
God as so pure that the skies are unholy in his
presence. One who loves humanity and delights in
messages of helpfulness toward all men can under-
stand that revelation of God which represents Him
as loving all the world. Fvnowing " the love of
Christ which passeth knowledge," we shall be " filled
with all the fulness of God" (Eph. iii. 19). When,
then, we shall rise and be wholly freed from every-
thing that is out of harmony with His nature, we
shall know Him and see Him as He is. The revela-
tion will then have greatly progressed, and we will
read with wonder i^reat and mighty unfoldings of
truth we never saw in it before.

Here, then, is our explanation. We know no
more of God than we do, because He is so much
greater than we, that our nature — our life — gives us

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PRESENT KNOWLEDGE DP^FECTIVE.

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no sufficient key by which to understand Him. Our
capacities are not equal to Him.

And I am sure we must be satisfied that it is
better so. If in the present condition of our minds
we could understand God perfectly, we would cease
to reverence Him. We should be led, like Lucifer,
to contend with Him for the pre-eminence. We
know that this is theett'ect upon us in all cases that
are in any degree analogous. Not long ago some
European author said of Gladstone : " He is the
greatest statesman of his nation. He is the greatest
statesman of his age. He is the greatest statesman
of any age." Let it be granted that the words are
true, yet the youngest member of the House of Com-
mons can fully understand that greatness, and sitting
in his obscure seat, his voice untried in that great
arena of iniellectual conflict, he may yet realize that
it is possible for himself to rise to a pinnacle of equal
greatness, and may dream of accomplishing as much.

The fact that he can so understand the greatest
statesman of his age prevents his being overmastered
by any feeling of reverence for so great a man. So
would it be with us toward God if we understood
Him fully ; but the fact that only as we progress in
goodness is His great nature unveiled to us provides
for continued reverence, fear and obedience in us, as
well as a constant prompting to higher attainments
in virtue.

2. There is another field in which we naturally
desire a great enlargement of our knowledge — that

PRESENT KN0WLED(;E DEFECTIVE.

207

is, our future state ; what will it be i What is the
present condition of our dead ? How little the
Bible teaches us on this subject ! And yet we feel
that it could not but be helpful to us to have an
answer to a thousand questions which fear, and
affection, and hope, and sorrow project toward that
unseen world ! And it seems so reasonable that we
should have this help. Why is it denied us ? Here,
as in the other case, we are thrown back upon the
answer that God withholds because we are not
capable of receiving. There is nothing in us by
which we can fully understand what that heavenly
life will be.

To realize this, let us remember how imperfectly
we understand ourselves in the life we now live.
The human intellect, as a subject of study, has
for ages engaged the best thoughts of the greatest
minds, yet the student new to this subject is far
from finding a plain path before him. Then our
senses are but imperfectly understood. Only a
novice will regard them as infallible. " It must be
so, I saw it with my own eyes," is a common ex-
pression, as though it must be the end of all doubt,
and the seal of all certainty ; but actually sight,
as well as all the other senses, is often deceived,
and where positively accurate results are sought, as
in scientific research in the laboratory, the senses
are constantly doubted, and their declarations are
submitted to other tests for certification. They who
know the senses best trust them least, so that we

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do not perfectly understand this life we are now
livinf^ so far as our senses are concerned. How much
less such a life may to our thought seem possible
if we were only more perfect than we are ! 'J'hen,
again, our thoughts are quite limited as to the
number of our senses.

We know of five senses, and regard each as an
avenue of knowledge ; and we vainly think we have
sounded all the depths of our being in detecting
these five senses. But what if our being is capable
of branching out and unfolding until not only
tive but ten times five senses may discover them-
selves to us, each with an appropriate sphere of
knowledge ! All this is possible, and yet how in-
capable we are of understanding the life we would
live on a scale so enlarged ! There is an infinity in
our natures which our race has but little suspected
in the past. I am thinking of some experiments in
mind reading which I have witnessed, and which, to
all human appearance, were above any suspicion of
collusion or deception. These experiments suggest
to me that there are in our natures hidden avenues
through which thought and feeling may flow, and
which none of our studies have yet in any large
degree explored. Though we do not comprehend,
much less attempt, to explain these phenomena, we
are willing to receive from them the suggestion of
new possibilities of life in us above anything we
have ever begun to experience here, but which we
may enter upon and possess as soon as we are emanci-

J'KKfSENT KNO\VLt;i)(iE DEFECTIVE.

2011

pated from the enslavino' folds of our flesh, with its
encompassing weaknesses and imperfections. If, as
many things seem to indicate, disembodied spirits
know anything about us here, is it not more than
probable that they are not shut up to the slow pro-
cesses of jx'dning knowle<lo:e to which we are accus-
tomed, but that they have access to these hidden
avenues of communication in which the How of
thought, feeling and emotion is much more rapid
than anything we know of as we now are ? And
we may not easily reject the thought that evil
spirits have over us the great advantage which they
do undoubtedly possess through a knowledge of
these hidden avenues of our being ; and that they
would destroy us beyond remedy or hope were we
not guarded and preserved by those ministering
spirits wdio, as guardian angels, watch over our des-
tiny, and who equally enjoy all secret knowledge of
the great mysteries of our being.

But, you say, much of this is mere speculation.
Yes, it is true, but wlien we cannot know, nothing
remains for us but to speculate. It is our only way
of getting beyond the narrow limits that contine us.
Truly we may say.

" I am, how little more I know I
Whence came I ? Whither do I go ?
A centred self that feels and is !
A cry between the silences !
A shadow, birth of clouds at strife
With sunshine on the hills of life I

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A shaft from nature's (luiver cast
Into the fiituro from the i)ast !
Between the cradh) and the shroud,
A meteor's tlfisli, from ch»ud to cloud ! "

How then is it possible for us to comprehend all
the mystery and meanin<:( of our <^reat life, when
we are entirely freed from the limitations we now
feel in the flesh, when every child shall be ^rreater
than Newton was ; when each shall tower into a
lofty realm of intelli<:fence above the most advanced
of living men, and all shall move on together
toward hi<:jher revelations and attainments, press-
ing forward with mighty volume and power, like a
great current sweeping on where single drops could
not move !

We " know in part " then, only because our
capacities are limited. We have no eye to see, nor
ear to hear what heaven is through any revelation
of it that could be possibly made. Our knowledge
will grow as we move toward perfection. Revelation
becomes more complete as the race developes and
progresses towards a more perfect manhood. There
is one word, edification, which in its early Latin
form means to build, and with us n^eans to be in-
formed, to receive an increase of knowledge. So
that our race is being edified, that is, built up. Our
past history and our present position properly is
simply manhood in process of construction, and
when the perfection is reached partial knowledge
shall be done away. A watcher waits through the

I'UKSENT KNOWI.KIMJE DEFECTIVE.

211

weary nif:j]it, often lonfrino- for rest and release. At
last wearv eves look out of an eastern window and
a line of ^rey stretches all along the sky. Now
she knows that relief is near. Th(i moriiin<jj is at
hand. An hour later she Hin<]fs wide the curtain,
turns out her artificial liirht and is ready to j^o; but
the grey line that gave lier encouragement an hour
ago is all gone. It was swallowed up in the over-
Howinij effulgence of the ijlad, beautiful morning.
That line was our imperfect knowledge. When
that which is perf(.'ct is come it shall bo done away ;
swallowed up in the overflowing brightness of a full
revelation perfectly understood.

1. With all our imperfect knowledge there, are
some thing.s which we do know well. We are as
certain as we can be that we are sinners, and we are
guilty before God. We need pardon and regenera-
tion to be fitted for heaven. And Christ has died
to put this mercy within our reach. Through His
merit we may at once come info a meetness for the
heavenly life. All this we can know without any
further development.

2. These studies should impress upon us the
importance of living in and cultivating our spiritual
natures, since it is by growing in them that fuller
knowledge on many subjects is to be unfolded to us,
and it can be communicated in no other way So,
to live in prayer, and to come nigh to God in deep,
true faith, is to know God.

3. These studies should help us to patience in our

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present worldly circumstances. One of the hard
thinc^s in life is the inequality in the outward cir-
cumstances of those who are equally worthy. The
cramping of poverty, the struf^gles and sufferings of
weakness are among the perplexing things. They
beat upon us all in some degree.

" Sweet f.re the scents* and sounds of spring.
And bright are the summer flowers,
And chill are the autumn winds that bring
The winter's lingering hours.

" And the world goes round and round,
And the sun sinks into the sea,
But whetlier 1 am on, or under the ground,
The world cares little for me.

" The ways of men are busy and bright.
And the voice of woman is kind ;
'Tis sweet to the eyes to behold the light,
But the <lying and dead are blind.
And the world goes round and round, etc.

" But if life awake and shall never cease
On the future's distant shore,
And the rose of U)ve and the lily of peace
Shall bloom there forever more ;

" Then let the world go round and round,
And the sun sink into the sea ;
For whether I am on, or under the ground.
What does it matter to me ! "

4. These studies really offer us the highest con-
solation in the presence of death, and the strongest

PRESKxXT KNOWLEDGE DEFE("nVE.

213

assurance of reunion and recognition in our here-
after.

" Alas ! for him who never sees
The stars shine throuLjh his cypress trees,
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor waits to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play.
Who hath not learned in hours of faith
That truth, to tiesh and sense unknown,
That life is ever Lord of death,
And lave can never lose its own ! "

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" Thou shalt see greater things than these." — John i. 50.

JESUS was one day walkinfj, when He became
conscious that two persons were following Him.
Their names were Andrew and John. He
turned and spoke to them. He asked them to go
home with Him. It was not much of a home to ask
anyone to — a rude hut on the banks of the Jordan.
However, they accompanied Him there, and after-
wards Andrew went and brought his brother Peter,
and the three remained there with Jesus the rest of
the afternoon, and probably slept there that night.
But K^efore they slept they knew and felt in their
inmost hearts that the kingdom of heaven had come,
that the hopes of long centuries were now fulfilled,
and that they were in the presence of a priest holier
than Aaron, of a prophet wiser than Moses, and of
a king greater than David ; and they participated
in an event of the highest importance to all ages and
races. This was the forming of the Christian
Church, with three members, Andrew, Peter and
John. Into what stately cathedrals that humble hut
at Jordan has grown ! Into what thronging mul-
titudes of faithful disciples, and crowned martyrs,

GREATER THIN(iS PROMISED TO FAITH.

215

and kings, and learned men, the three fishermen
have multiplied ! Did ever a conversation among
four men, for part of a day, seated on rude benches,
throw such results up against the future ? The next
day Jesus started up the country to his old home in
Galilee. He added on the way a man named Philip
to his C(.mpany, but Philip felt himself in such good
company he would not go alone. He went after
Nathanael, of whom we read in the Gospels as
Bartholomew. Philip told him of this wonderful
stranger, but he spoke of Him as "Jesus of Nazareth."
Now, these were all Galilee men. Some business
errand had taken them down into the vicinity of
Jerusalem, perhaps to find market for their fish.
Being Galilee men, they all understood what Naza-
reth meant. Nathanael was a man in higher cir-
cumstances and better bred than the rest, so that
he was likely to be more unpleasantly affected than
the others by anything from Nazareth. Hence his
expression is contemptuous, " Can any good thing
come out of Nazareth ? " Still he walked along
with Philip, and as they walked they came near
enough to Jesus to hear Him say : " Behold an
Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile ! " And
Nathanael knew perfectly well that these words
were spoken concerning himself, for he was a very
godly man, and must have known that he bore such
a reputation ; still he was surprised that Jesus
knew anything about him, so he asked, " Whence
knowest thou me ? " Now, the answer to this

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GREATER THINGS PROMISED TO FAITH.

question was the stroke that won Nathanael's heart.
Mark its significance : " Before that Philip called
thee, when thou wast under the fig tree I saw thee."
Now, what was there in this to convince or win a
man ? Why, it was a custom of the Jews to go
under the shade of the fig tree for secret prayer.
Nathanael had been thus engaged. Like any good
man, he thought no one but himself knew anything
about his private devotions ; but here, this man
Jesus shows that He knew about his most secret
prayers, and then the thought crme that God alone
could have such knowledge. This man must be
God. He at once yielded up his whole heart, and
broke out, " Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou
art the King of Israel ! " It was a genuine conver-
sion.

Nathanael believed on such evidence as could
reasonably be given, and Jesus commended him, and
promised that from that faith he should go on to
greater things.

From this we derive the principle : The faith that
accepts reasonable evidence shall be rewarded by
full revelations.

Nathanael had just one proof of the Deity of
Jesus, and he believed fully. Then he received the
promise of greater things.

1. I notice this is a principle which applies in all
education. A child believes the names of the letters
on his teacher's word. He shall behold greater
things. The boundless treasures of literature open

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GREATER THINGS PROMISED ;]^U FAITH.

217

ity of
}d the

in all

etters

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open

to him. Poetry, many- voiced, like a oreat choir and
organ, pours upon hi.s heart the full diapason of
earthly melodies — the heart-psalm of all the ages !
Philosophy lifts him into the spiritual realm of pure
thought, entrancini;- as dream-land, yet as real as
mountains and seas.

But suppose a child is a natural doubter, and he
says he will not believe that this is A until you give
him a proof of it w^hich his reason can accept. And
he wants you to demonstrate to him why Z is not
called A, and A is not called Z, and he will believe
nothing about it until you do so. It is plain he
could not gain one step in advance. He would be
forever shut out from the "greater thinfrs" con-
tained in the world of literature.

When he comes to the study of history, if he will
believe the general outlines, you promise him greater
things. He shall descend into the minute details,
and rise into the grand philosophical principles that
are developed by history. He shall study the
human race on a grand scale, and read lessons of
profoundest wisdom for himself and for humanity,
from the errors, and wrongs, and virtues of ages that
are past and races that are no more.

And so in the study of every .science. He must
believe the first definitions. If he will not believe
in the law of gravitation unless his eye can see it,
then the great things of astnmomy are forever shut
out from his view. Yon twinkling stars, and re-
volving worlds, and blazing meteors, can be to him

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218 GREATER THINGS PROMISED TO FAITH.

no more than the toys of a chil<l. He can see no
connection of vast systems, can realize no limitless
expansion of the f^rand domain of life, can find no
record of infinite wisdom in the harmony of a uni-
verse incomprehensibly great, nor trace the footsteps
of the Deity walking everywhere in space un-
measured and inconceivable. These " jjreater thinirs "
can only be seen by one who will accept the pre-
liminary principles.

Are we then to be surprised if in religious things
all the great revelations are promised only to a
faith that takes hold upon such evidence as is
possible ?

2. This principle applies to our confidence in
Ohristianity as a system.

Nathrnael began to believe on just one proof, that
Jesus had divine knowledge. Let any man begin
to believe in Christianity on such evidence as he
can receive. There are the works of Jesus, His
miracles. After ages of assault the Gospels yet
remain without successful disputation, acknowledged
as a correct record of the life and works of Jesus.
All we have to do, therefore, is to decide if these
were the works of a man, or if they must have been
wrought by God. Was He who raised the dead,
healed the sick, gave sight to the blind — above all.
He who Himself arose from the dead — was He God
or man ? We have more than Nathanael had. The
resurrection alone, which cannot be successfully
disputed or explained away, is sufficient to lead those

GREATEll THINGS PROMISED TO FAITH.

219

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who, like Nathanael, are willing to believe on evi-
dence, to surrender the whole heart to faith in
Jesus. The scribes and Pharisees, who came ask-
ing a sign, had heard of the great works of Jesus.
On that testimony, had they believed and followed
Him, they should have themselves seen other and
greater works. Instead of that, without any faith
in their hearts at all, they came to Jesus asking such
a sign as would suit their own ideas, and He gave
them nothing.

But those who begin to believe on the testimony
of His miracles shall see greater things in the way
of evidence of the truth of Christianity itself. It is
true that in our day we cannot see greater miracles
of a material kind, " for since the blue heavens
closed on the visions vouchsafed to St. Stephen and
St. Paul, His earthly form has been visible no more."
But there are moral miracles no less powerful
for conviction. In 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10 and 11, v;e
read : " Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not
inherit the kingdom of God ? Be not deceived :
neither fornicators, nor idolators, nor adulterers, nor
effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,
nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers,
nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God.
And such were some of you. But ye are washed,
but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name
of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God."

Now, this passage describes a moral miracle truly
as wonderful as any material miracle ever witnessed

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by living men. And such moral miracles we are wit-
nessing all the time. All around us drunken men
become sober and continue so ; vile men become pure
and live in chastity ; dens of lust and debauchery
clean away their monstrous stench and wrong, and
become sweet and happy homes : the emblems of
obscenity and of universal degradation disappear
from a society thoroughly renovated. All these
things have we seen. We have seen atheists drop
their air of boastful detiance, and henceforth live as
believing Christian.'j; we have seen pagans rise up
from the bondage of degrading superstitions, and
walking as happy saints of God. We have seen
great colossal amphitheatres that once reeked with
human blood, crumbling in ruins, while at their side
orphanages and homes for the aged and poor, and
hospitals for the sick, rise with a mission of per-
petual mercy. To-day we see tenderness and love
spreading their mantle over the cell of the imprisoned
felon ; we hear the tread of liberty as she goes forth
smiting and breaking forever the fetters of the slave ;
and we see the schoolmaster taking the hand of the
ignorant, and philanthropy the hand of the poor ;
and we see the sceptre passing from the hand of one
into the hands of many, and the multitude rules
itself, and the rich and the learned and the few no
longer go crashing over the poor, and the ignorant,
and the many, as though right was made to be their
exclusive sceptre and diadem. I say that in these
marv^ellous changes we have evidence of the vital,

CiRKATER THINGS TROMISED TO FAITH.

221

heaven-given power of Christianity more convincing
to the mind that is willing to accept reasonable evi-
dence, than it' our eyes actually belield the (h'ad
raised to life again. All these things, and more,
have been and are still being wrought by Christianity
in lands b )th old and new. Let philosophy theorize
and try to explain them by natural causes, but there
they remain, and will remain, to confound scepticism,
and to reassure the believing heart by growing up
into the mighty culmination of evidence which
unfolds the greater things to the eye sufficiently free
from prejudice to behold them.

o. This principle applies to the pursuit of experi-
mental religion, the knowledge of our salvation
through Jesus Christ.

All men who believe that Christianity is from
God cannot say that it makes them better men.
All who believe in the Deity of Christ are not drawn
by His love into a purer life, where they cease both
to love what is sinful and to do it, which alone is
the Christian salvation. This is because thev are
without any personal knowledge of Christ — they
have no experience of His saving power.

Now, there are many things, any one of which
may be sufficient to open the heart and to give to
such a person a desire to be saved from the guilt of
sin and from the love of it. It may be a fervent
application of the truth from the pulpit. I was
much struck with the words of an old man. We had
been holding religious meetings for some days, and

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halt' a dozen earnest sermons had heon preached, and
this man said he had been examinin<; his heart and
applyin(]r the truths to himself, and he felt convinced
that if he weie not already converted lie would not
be able to resist the appeals that had been made.
He felt that the arguments were convincini^. Of
course a (rood many did resist them, but the old
man's words made me feel that the Word of God is
sometimes used by Him in preaching to turn men
to Himself. Or God may use the death of some
one who has been greatly honored for many years,
to lay upon the whole neighborhood the weight of
a solemn injunction to awake and take hold upon
the life of God. Or some great calamity may befall
a people, and through the benumbing chill and
darkness that hang upon every home, a voice louder
than in whispers may be heard calling upon men to
realize the possibilities of a nobler life. Or some
long-slumbering promise made to a father or mother
now in heaven may be mysteriously awakened into
life and power, and may open upon the soul the
windows of a new morning. Or a little child may
have been taken, and the bright light shining along
the way he has gone may reveal the hidden path to
a nobler existence here and a grand immortality
hereafter. If when the heart is thus made tender,
the man would strive in the trembling stops of his
feeble prayers to turn his face to Jesus, and to trust
in Him, he should see greater things.

And there are many excellent men and v/omen

(illEATEU THINCiS I'UOMISED TO FAITH.

228

against whom no word can be urged, who are think-
ing it" only they do as well as they can they will
surely come out right. But their danger is, that
their religion has no Chri.st in it. Church, and ser-
vice, and morality, but no Christ, no atonement for
their past sin ! All around men tell what they
have found by trusting in Christ. Everyone can
receive such testimony for what it is worth. And
considering the kind of men who give it, it is cer-
tainly worth something. Now, if these people
would hemn to trust in Christ on the strencrth of
this testimony, they would be led on to greater
things. We cannot make clear in words what they
would receive, but we can refer them to the sum-
mary of it. 1 Cor. ii. 9 : " Eye hath not seen, nor
ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of
man, the things which God hath prepared for them
that love Him." This is often understood to relate
to heaven, but if so, what mean the words that
immediately follow : " But the Lord hath revealed
them unto us by His Spirit ?" They are then given
to those taught of the Spirit in this world. They are
indeed the kingdom of Heaven ; but that part of it
which is possible tome is knowledge in this world,
for " the kingdom of God is not meat and drink ;
but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost." These greater things shall everyone see
who tries to believe.

And there are also men who are terribly immoral,
blasphemers and drunkards, and others. They see

224

(ikEATKK TIIINCJS I'KoMISKI) TO FAITH.

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their folly, and have tried to reform. They have
sifrned p]ed<:fes and called their friends to witness.
Th(^y have kept them for a time and then failed.
There is no other way but to try the way of faith in
Jesus Ohrist.

There was a man who years at^o had led a trust-
ing woman to the altar, and vowed that he would
love and cherish her. And he meant it. He felt
her to be his crown and pride. He would liave died
for her. But at loni^th bad companions cirriel him
through the slides, and left him struggling with a
babe's strength against the awful current. Then he
would come home and curse and kick that woman
he promised to love. If anything crossed him with-
out he would be more abusive to her. And she had
not seen from him one token of affection, or heard
a kind Vv-ord from him for years. And her parents
were dead, and, as always in such cases, her friends
were few. One day this man attended a meeting,
where he was induced to sign the pledge. And
when he came in his tirst thought was, " How shall
I tell her. I fear she will faint away." He had
many a time walked home intending to curse and
beat her, and never thought of her fainting! Well,
at last he got home and found her bent over a few
coals on the hearth. She did not look up as he
entered. He sat down and afoer a time he said :
" Mary." She did not turn or answer. Again he
said, " Mary," and received no answer. He felt
very uncomfortable. At last he broke out, " Mary,

(JUEATEIl THIN'CS PROMISED TO FAITH.

225

' have
ittie.ss.
failed,
dth in

trust-
would
■le felt
/e died
id him
with a
hen he
woman
n with-
;he had
f heard
parents
'riends
leeting,
And
w shall
le had
r.se and
Well,
r a few
as he
e said :
gain he
lc felt
[' Mary,

I fear you are working too liaid. You don't look
so well as you used to. I am sure you are working
a great deal too hard." Then she turne<l and looked
at him, and said : " There is no help for it. There
is nothing in the house to eat, and the children have
had no su])per," Feeling touched, he said: "Mary,
I will help you after this." But she had no confi-
dence, and though she did not understand his new
turn, she said : " Little help 1 ever get from you."
Then he burst out : " Mary, I have signed the
pledge." And at this she rose up and went toward
him, and she did faint ; but his arms caught her,
and his tears mingled with hers when she revived.
One of the child; n who had never seen anything
like this became alarmed and ran for her uncle, and as
he came hui-rying toward the house, he heard a great
noise and feared the man was murdering his family.
But when he entered both were on their knees and she
was praying earnestly, " O God, strengthen poor Ned.
God, help him to keep his pledge. Let him never
fall again." And at every petition he was crying
out as loud as he could, *' Amen, Amen." And this
was the noise the uncle heard. And Ned and his
wife kept on praying. They began their new life
by believing that God alone could help and save
them. And though they had very little at first,
God certainly let them see greater things, for
some years after when he told of this, he said, "Mary
is alive and well and has some of her old happy

look — like when we were married. Sometimes I
15

226

GREATER THINGS PROMISED TO FAITH.

•

: t
' ' '

< J
i

have been almost in the mouths of lions, but 1 have
been kept by prayer and have never fallen. Now
Wfe have three good comfortable meals every day,
and we have good clothes for Sunday and all go to
church, and the children attend the Sunday School,
and I own the house where we live, and have a little
money in the savings bank." Did not God give
him to see greater tliini/s ?

4. I want to apply this principle to nations and
to churches. Wo are yet a young land. The jost-
ling tread of over-crowding millions breaks not yet
upon our confused ear. The glamour and pomp of
incalculable wealth dazzle not yet our imperfectly
educated senses. The thronging splendors of Old
World civilizations cast not yet their bright aurora
against our clear northern sky. And, like a boy
abashed in the presence of his big brother, we are
humble and silent before the great court of mighty
nationalities that circle round the earth ; but the
eye that sees in the liglit of reasonable faith shall
yet see greater things for this young land. With
undisturbed feelings of admiration in which no envy
or jealousy mingles, I contemplate the truly wonder-
ful cities of countless inhabitants and boundless
wealth that have sprung up both in the east and the
west of the United States, as if by the touch of the
wizard's wand. Well, we have as great possibilities, as
wide gates of opportunity opening before us, and as
fair a promise written against the sky of our future as
that land enjoyed a hundred years ago. Let then

GREATER THINGS PROMISED TO FAITH.

227

1 have

Now

ry day,

11 crO to

School,
; a little
loci give

[ons and
he jost-
\ not yet
pomp of
perfectly
i of Old
[it aurora
e a boy
we are
mi^i^hty
hut the
th shall
With
no envy
wonder-
)oundless
t and the
;h of the
duties, as
s, and as
future as
Let then

our national faith wait and expand and grow, and
we ourselves when bent in age shall tread the
mighty thoroughfares of our eastern cities, when
hurrying hundreds of thousands shall wage the con-
flicts of peace in commerce and manufacture ; and
in this great North-west our children shall forget
the points which their fathers marked as centres, so
completely shall they be overflown by the insweep-
ing tide of population and of commerce. No shadow
of doubt darkens my faith in the future of this city
and this land, guarded and consecrated by the
watchful eye of the northern stars. If there were
no fluctuations, there would he no waves. De-
pressed to-day, we rise on the foaming crest to-
morrow. Let us cro on in confidence. We may
make of this land what we will. This city irives
promise that it, too, will be a city of churches. If
we hand down to the next generation all the sacred
traditions and all the liallowed memories of a
church-going, Bible-reading, Sabbath-observing,
God-fearing people, no shock that at any time may
break upon our frontier from the atheism and com-
munism and anarchy of foreign shores, shall ever
tear this land out of God's right hand. God has
honored our Churcii by letting us place before
Christendom the astonishing; example of men risinii
above prejudices and traditions to join hands in
working for God alone. I feel my little world en-
larg ' by this touch of God's favoring mercy.
There have before been unions of different churches,

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228

GREATER THINGS I'ROMTSED TO FAITH.

i«il'

Hfifl I f

but four different bodies corninf^ in on one platform
is sometbino; new. I take it as a promise tbat a
weapon of wider intluence sball be given into our
band.

In educational work, in the use of tbe press, in
promoting and sustaining missions, the Church will
enjoy a vantage ground never before reached.

As to this "Grace Church," we are now seeing tbe
greater things promised to the faith of men who
bci^an the work of Methodist missions here years
ago. And yet greater things are possible. The
conversion of one sinner this day would V)e a greater
result than over-crowded congregations or large
collections. A revival of religion that shall move
men all along tbe line, and (juicken into goodness all
there is in us, and bring scores and liundreds from
worldliness and sin, would be a crowning blessing,
in comparison with which all the grandeur or im-
pressiveness of this material temple would sink into
insignificance. If we begin and continues our work
in faith these greater things will come.

SELF-DENIAL.

1 !

" If any man will come after Me, let him deny liimself and take
up his cross and follow Me." — Matt. xvi. *24.

IN the life of Jesus tlie dark shadow of the closing
tragedy fell all along His path. When He
spoke these words the cross was not far away.
Already His mind was being penetrated with its
gloom, as one shivers in anticipation of the chilling
air of the evening. But that wa ■ His cross. In
His thought, however, Himself and His followers
were never widely separated. And nearness to
that darkest passage in His own life awakene<l
His tenderest sympathies for [lis people in view of
what they must likewi.se suffer. They were destined
to share His glory, hut they should reach it through
the ufirk passage-way of tears and sufferings ; and
not urn*.ll they could in some measure enter into the
t'oliow.ship of His deep unspoken anguish of spirit
becau i ' f sin, an<l the burden it hail laid upon
His own soul. They must bear a cross as well
as He.

It is our privilege to follow them as well as Him
along the tear-dewed path marked with drops of
' lood through which they reached the gates of glory.

■IP!'

230

SELF-DENIAL.

Paul lets us know the deep secrets of his own life.
Beat<3n with stripes, stoned, in prisons, in dangers
by land and sea, the alienation of best friends,
the misjudgment of the truest motives, all the way
his day of life a day of storm, until the night falls
and he is hurried headless out into the silence ! And
much the same was the experience of the other apostles
and of men and women little less worthy, joining
hands down the Christian aijes, until even at our
feet fall the shadows of the last of the martyrs for
the cross. To m. v.tain a Christian profession
has been in the past c exposed to danger, to loss,

to reproach, and even to death. Christ said, " In the
world ye siiall have tribulation." Then He added :
" Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." It
is our happiness to live in a time when that lan-
jiuafje has a new meaninnf. He has held the hands
of His people through ages of storm, until now over
the world, as over the Sea of Galilee, His voice is
heard, " Peace be still," and the winds and the waves
of violence obey His power. His spirit has so far
prevailed among men that His people .scarcely know
any more what violent persecutions for His name
mean.

But because of this great privilege of hearing His
name and allying with His cause in peace, there is a
great mistake into which people are constantly
falling, that is, the mistake of supposing His teach-
ing so liberal that it will lay no restraints upon
human nature. Because men do not tear and

SELF-DKNIAL.

2:u

i
i

destroy each other on account of the reliiTjious faith,
many seem to think that the great hivvs that govern
human nature now run exactly parallel with the
great principles that pervade the teaching of Christ's
gospel, instead of meeting like two violent currents
in opposite directions and cutting through each other,
as the}' always liave done, and as, in fact, they do
yet. As the result of this error, you find churches
to-day whose standard of morality and religious
development will lead them to admit everybody to
fellowship who is good enough to escape the
hands of the police, and who judge of develop-
ment in Christian m'nce bv the readiness with which
a person adapts himself to the rules of politeness
recognized in an ever-changing society. It is the
ettort of the world to declare that human nature is
good without the Spirit of God, that it needs no
regeneru '.on, that man is .saved l)y external surface
culture. The fact is tlie worM is so far affected by
the spirit of Christ that it wants to be religious,
but is not enough affected by it to be willing to pay
the price of any ver}' great sacrifice for religion. Such
a temper of mind can only be satisfied by saying that
human nature needs no watching, no restraining.

But on the very lowest ground we can take, either
there must be some self-denial — a cross in some
form, or no religion. The lowest ground we can
take is that the Christian religion is simply one
amonjx a number of mean.s of cultivatin<^^ human
nature. On this ground we need never mention

TTi

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232

SELF-DENIAL.

iii

atonement, recjencration, repentance, restitution,
future punisliment, nor anything that is humbling
to the human heart, and that is calcuhited to remind
man of his sins. He may hold his head aloft in a
pride that even Lucifer could not surpass. His
religion ranks with the high school, the Lyceum
and the art gallery, as a means of refining him.
You cannot put religion lower than that if you
allow it a name at all.

But can you get along ev^en on that plane without
any self-denial ? Do men enjoy the henefit of any
means of culture — even the lowest — without self-
denial ? Can the hoy derive any good results from
school and college without self-denial ? Will he
not sit many an h )ur nt his desk when mountain,
field and stream tempt him to wander, sail and
swim ? Will he not again and ac^ain forego the
pleasures of appetite that his mind may be more
clear for the great problems before him ? And who
ever gained the prize in a school of art without
such self-denial as sometimes almost bends the head
to the earth ? One evening last week, with a good
many of you, I watched the movement of a distin-
guished pianist's fingers. So easy it was in ap{)ear-
ance, it seemed that any child might do it, yet in
fact was so difficult of attaining that a life might be
worn out without reaching it. Whence come the
sculpture and painting that the infinite genius of
Italy has inspired with breathing life! Behold this
masterpiece, the Crucifixion, on the walls of a great

I J

SELF-DENIAL.

233

I I

church! Young Murillo enters a ad fixes his eyes
upon it. He moves not, nor tufns away. The
hours pass, Eveninf^j comes, and the old verger lays
his hand on Murillo's shoulder and asks, " For what
do you wait?" Without removing his eyes the
rapt youth replies, " Until Joseph comes to take Him
down from the cross, and the women to anoint Him
for the burial."

They wdio gave the marble a shape so true to
nature that you can almost feel that it is your
brother, and put upon the canvas forms that ahuost
speak and answer back your smile, reached the lofty
eminence of infinite genius by iiiMnite toil and
patience. As to self-denial, many of them could not
purchase a fashionable garment for themselves, so
completely had they forgotten such indulgence.
Tlieir neglected appetites would turn from an epi-
cure's treat as from a stranger. They taught their
bodies that sleep was not an indulgence but a neces-
sary relief from toil — little better in its character
than theft. Why, now, if religion is going to culti-
vate a man's nature, can he expect it to enjoin no
self-denial?

But leave religion out of the question. How many
people are there who can live without denying
themselves sometliing ? In a mansion so grand that
money can bring nothing more into it, amid doctors
and nurses the rich mother will neither sleep nor
eat because of her sick child. Families by the
thousand are ijoinof without some little trratifications

234

SELF-DENIAL.

ii(;i;

' 1 .!
i i ;

! I I

every day that tliey may be able to have some
<^reater j^ood — a summer holiday, some coveted
article of household ornament or utility. In fact,
human life without self-denial in some form is im-
possible. Men and women are everywhere denying
themselves a lower that they may n^ain a higher
good.

When, then, we consider that everywhere in life
there is self-denial, and that by every variety of
culture men try to raise either mind or body to
a nobler character ; that when the student would
make the most of his intellect, and when the cham-
pion would fit his body for the noblest work in a
race, the object can only be gained by rigorous self-
denial, it does reflect the meanness of human nature
that people will Vjear the Christian name and yet be
unwilling to make any self-denial for Christ's sake.
Are not people thus unwilling ? Let uie ask what
can you recall that you have denied yourself for
His name ? As I ask the question, certain forms of
sin, to which in your secret heart you feel a strong
tendency, arise in j^our thought, and you say to
your conscience, I have given up these for Christ's
sake. Let me ask you to look again, and you will
find that you have denied yourself a good many of
these for fear of going to jail, and a good many
others through fear of being lashed by the scandal-
loving tongue of general society. Many of you are
compelled to acknowledge to your conscience that
for Christ's sake you have denied yourself nothing

1 4'

SELF-DENIAL.

235

— you have let human nature have its way because
it was pleasant to do so, only restraininfij it where it
was likely to bring you into contiict with the law.

Now, we must say that the respectalnlity which
keeps a person out of jail is somethinof less than the
religion of Christ, A little while ago I said that in
the very lowest idea men can have of Christianity,
it requires self-denial and a cross. We must raise
it immeasurably above that lowest idea of it.

There will always be

1. The cross of doctrine. Human guilt is not a
pleasant doctrine to proud spirits. Repentance is
full of offence, and restitution is intolerable. A just
law from God, which indicts just punishments, is
hideous to human nature. Atonement and pardon,
the taking man to iieaven as a pauper, letting him
pay nothing as a purchase price, stings the haughty
spirit. Yet these truths must always bend the
necks of those who enter heaven. Men say, make
the Church and Christianity liberal. But in some
respects Christianity, when true to its mission, must
always seem to some illiberal. It can never be
liberal towards sin, or any impurity, howsoever
refined in outward appearance. It can never be lib-
eral by forgetting its Christ. Yet here is where
the worldly man wants liberality. The cross of
doctrine must always remain.

2. There is the cross of sacrifice for the Christian's
own benefit and purity. It is in kind the same as
the self-denial we have already noticed in the

236

SELF-DENIAL.

flHBI'

student and the artist. It is the sacrifice of plea-
sure of the body for the sake of purity of conscience.
Every Christian man in the world must practise this
self-senial by contentini^ himself with less money
than he could have by adoptinij^ the woi .d's ways.
Men and women must be content with less of
worldly pleasure. This is the difHcult turn in the
road. 1 cannot deny that the (juestion of amuse-
ments has difficulties. Take some <>ames that are
played in fashionable life, the theatre, the « lance,
the races, no matter of what kind. Now, I could
not say that the person wlio indulges in any or in
all of these must necessarily be eternally lost. I do
not put the ari,aiment on that ground. Indeed, 1
cannot decide just how far such amusements may
be consistent with some de<riee of religious life, and
with the spirit of Clirist : Itut from everything we
can learn it does set'Ui that a great hjve for such
things reveals a low grade of spiritual life, and littk-
sensibility to the strong claims of Clirist. The love
of such amusements is one of the things tliat one
may easily deny himself for Christ's sake, and I am
persuaded that anyone who would take upon him-
self the cross of such a sacritice, who would freely
give up everything of this nature tliat lies upon
doubtful ground, would be a thousand times repaid
in his own spiritual development, in his sense of
moral security and freedom from uncomfortable
questionings of conscience. But the prevalent idea
of religion is not self-conquest and elevation of char-

t i !

SELF-DENIAL.

287

acter by aspirations after the liea\'enly ; but rather
a respectable <jfil(liiii;- for the pleasures of fashionable
life. Such a sjjirit that yields notliiiii^^ for Christ
may have a churcli, l)ut it is not reli^ncjn. The
relij^ion of Christ as tauglit in the New Testament
is a s})irit of self-sacrifice.

About forty years ai^oa younir lady of New York,
after contendin^j against tremendous ditliculty and
opposition, found lierself at last an object of great
admiration and envy on account of her poetical and
other imaii^inative writini^s. Slie liad won a crown.
She mif^ht do what she wouM. Fanny Forrester
was a person the highest in tlie land wouM gladly
court. But almost imme<]iately after her triumph
was universally acknowledged, it became known
that this favorite had consented to become the wife
of Adoniram Judson, then about 58 years of age,
whom death had already parted from two devoted
wives, and to go with him into the heart of the
darkest heathenism to burn out her life-lamp in a
strusfijle with a barbarous lanijuaore, a cruel race,
and a climate full of pestilence, all for love of the
Lord Jesus Christ and those for whom He died.
The fashionable world was confounded then as it is
now when one casts down its crown for the sake of
a crown of eternal life. In well-dressed and polite
circles it was passed around, " The woman is mad.
So people whose hearts know nothing of the love
of Christ always think when one chooses Christ
before the world, that is to them their all. But this

23S

SELF-DENIAL.

ii ii

||!i

woman knew herself and her choice well. She took
up this cry and wrote and published a errand essay
on " The Madness of the Missionary Enterprise,"
in which she fully exposed the selfishness and hol-
lowness of the nioney-makinf,^ pleasure-loving world
of her own people. She cleared herself and her
cause and left the imputation of madness on the
other side. If you had her gifts would you make
any such sacrifice? Do you make anything like it
now, proportionate to your gifts and opportunities ?
Yet, suppose you won the brightest crown possible,
who is wiser, she or you ? In 1821 Napoleon died
at St. Helena, crying " Tote d'Armee." They were
his last words inspired by clangor of his rushing life.
Twenty-four years afterwards a ship anchored in
a port of the same island. In the cabin of that
ship lay the second Mrs. Judson, ill, returning from
her finished work. Her final words were, " I ever
love the Lord Jesus Christ," and then she sank into
a ouiet slumber of an hour, and awoke with the
angels. France was proud to honor Napoleon's
remains. The missionary's grave w^as marked by a
simple slab, bearing her name, age, date of death,
and the verse,

" Sweetly she sleeps here on this rock of the ocean,

Away from the home oi her youth.
And far from the land where with heartfelt devotion,

She scattered the bright ])eams of truth.'

Which from St. Helena found the brighter crown,
the Emperor, or she who denied herself for Christ ?

SELF-DENIAL.

239

A crown and tritunph worthy the name can only
be gained by a life of relij^ious self-denial. I have
read that an ancient senator told his son of the
j^reat honors about to be conferred on certain citi-
zens whose names were in a V)ook he held in his
hands. The son desired the names ; but the father
would only tell him that they were such as had per-
formed noble deeds and rendered fneav; services to
the State. Hitlierto, the son had been a careless
libertine and a u^reat drunkard ; but now he put
himself into retirement, repented of his past sins,
subdued his passions, and when the next time brave
men were lionored, and soldiers came forward for
their wreaths, he also came to claim one for himself.
He said, "If honors be given to concjuemis, I have
gained the noblest concjuest of all. 'I'hese men
have subdued stronger foes, Init I have con(iuered
myself." There is another book in which the names
are written of those who are chosen fur high
honors — it is the Book of Life, but none are
written there but such as have conquered themselves.
The self-loving and ease-seeking, who despise any
sacrifice of what their flesh likes, are not the ones
chosen for high honors.

A woman had a pleasant home near Cleveland,
Ohio. Men were talking of choosing her husband
as a candidate for the presidency of the United
States. She asked Governor Jewell, an intimate
friend, if it would pay to leave their pleasant home.
The Governor replied, "Yes; in a year your husband

It .

240

SELF-DENIAL.

will be President of this country, and liold the
highest office on the globe." The months hurried
by ; a funeral train was carrying Mrs. Garfield back
to the pleasant home. She sent for Governor
Jewell, and asked him, " Has it paid ?" He replied,
" Yes ; for that man is the best loved man on the
globe." So uiuch sacrifice for so much love ! No
self-denial, no cross, no laying down and emptying
out of self — no love ! How shall it be with us
when death comes forcibly to empty us out ?

i I

WINNING SOULS.

" He that winneth souls is wise." — Proverbs xi. 30.

THIS is certainly true, for if he were not wise
he could not do it. As a rule, just the hardest
thinix to do with a man is to win his soul. Now, if
the object were to win his money, that work would
not call Forth any very great skill. Not long since,
in an old newspaper, I read an elaborate article on
the game of poker. It explained the various tricks
employed by old players to compel the game to
favor their hand whether strong or weak. I could
see nothing in the whole practice worthy the name
of wisdom. Low cunning best describes the direct-
ing genius in all the arts and tricks of play whereby
men's money is won. Yes, it is easy to win men's
money. Advertise, in striking form, a lottery, the
veiiest swindle, or some patent nostrum — sure cure
for everything — and men will just pour their gold
into the hand of the manipulator.

So, also, it is comparatively easy to win men's
friendship. If your position in the world is higher
than theirs, notice them, patronize them ; if lower,
Hatter them. You will so bind them to your car-
riage wheel. Or buy your goods of them — you
16

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242

WINNING SOULS.

itt

■w

will rivet their souls to yours in abidiiif^ friendship
until it suits your convenience or interest to buy of
someone else. Or vote for a man, or for his candi-
date — a fellow-feelini^ is at once established, and he
will be your firm, true friend until the next day.
Treat him with all neighborly kindness, help him or
his family, and, if he is worth owning as a friend,
you will have his heart. Still no great wisdom is
called to the front.

So, too, no great tax will be laid upon your pov* rs
to gain a man's influence. If you want to sell some-
thing you will easily procure any nvnnber of valuable
testimonials asserting its usefulness and unparal-
leled excellence. No small matter is more sur-
prising than the ease with which testimonials and
assi-rances may be procured, even from men in the
most distinguished positions. No tax is laid upon
wisdom in getting the benefit of other men's in-
fluence. Indeed, it is often unnecessary even to be-
have yourself with particular care. And if you
cannot secure it in any other way you can generally
buy it ; and whatever can be bought for money is,
of all good things, most easily attained.

So much, then, and even more, you may win from
a man without being particularly wise ; but if you
would win his soul you must at once rise to a higher
plane of action ; and develop superior skill in
adapting your nieans to the end which you contem-
plate.

The first tax laid upon you is to get the man's

f r

WINNING SOULS.

243

attention. You approach him about his soul. He
does not quite comprehend what you mean. It is
true that the word soul is in his vocabulary, because
away back in the far-off years his UiOther taught
him to pray when his heart was tender, and his
whole nature was like a hot-bed for moral truths.
But since then mists have settled over the shores of
his sea. He knows of a certainty that he is just
now in storm and conflict, trying to do the best for
himself and others ; but he is not quite sure that
there is any landing. It seems to him very likely
that the voyage will end by his just sinking out of
sight, and there will be no more of him. But you
speak to him of his soul, and of the shining shore.
The shore he cannot see, and the soul never shows
itself. He never comes upon it in any inventory of
his effects. It is not anything that he can put upon
the market. As to his body, if he pricks it, it will
bleed. If he allows it to get chilly, it will turn blue.
This soul, which you would set him to seek for,
never manifests itself in any such way. It never
comes out before him and says, " I am hungry. I
am cold, or lonely." He cannot easily understand
why you should come to him about it. If you
made some proposal about his house, or his prairie
lands, or his factory, or stocks, he would understand
you. But to exercise your zeal and anxiety about
him, and yet not want to sell him anything, nor to
buy, nor to get a subscription, he naturally feels
that it would be as well for you to promptly explain.

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244

WINNING SOULS.

Week before last I was in conversation with a
Provincial Chief Justice, Ho spoke of some acijuain-
tances of a former day who sent word to him in
advance of their arrival in liis town that they
desired to see liiin. He was busy, and so left a check
with a friend who was to meet them in his name.
Said he, " The friend returned the check much to my
surprise, for I have found that the first and bottom
plank in the platform of such people is that they
want money." Now, this idea is so common that
when you approach a man not desiring to make
anythin2^ out of him, his eyes become bleared by the
spectacle. He will either retjjard you with suspicion,
or else he will think you are trifiinor, and set you
down as a fool. Now, what room there is for the
hiij^hest skill — what exciuisitively delicate movement
is necessarv — to first awaken a man to as clear a
consciousness that he has a soul to save, as he has
of the existtmce of his store, or bank, or goods lying
at the depot to be moved into his warehouse. With
how many of us who sit here the obligation to save
the soul is much less distinct than the mortfjaije
to raise, or the bill to meet !

But suppose you are wise enough by admirable
tact and address to gain his attention, to arouse an
interest in him, to get hini to think about his soul
and its salvation, to realize its existence, its immor-
tality, and its dangers ; then, shall I say, your diffi-
culty is but well begun. He and you will alike
realize how completely it is shut in l)y adverse
influences.

WIXNINC; SOULS.

245

There is his business. It may be bad in its very
motive. There is the liquor traffic. It is j^^ranted
that the men eni^aojed in it have no worse motive
than other men. They desire wealth for themselves
and their families, but it is a trade in which money
can be made rapidly and easily, and a man soon
gets hardened down to it. Or take the speculator,
whose business is simply one mode of (^ambling.
Or take the undisguised professional gambler. If
you succeed in awakening in any of these an inter-
est in his soul, what can he do ? Years in such a
manner of life havediscjualitied him for any regidar
pursuits. He coald not earn a living if he gave up
his present course in life. Then such a one has no
proper idea of the value of money. He has been
in the habit of getting it easily. He is reckless in
its use. He could not live upon what would be a
good income for another man. The fact is the devil
has his soul mortgaged to a damning business ! B it
leave such pursuits, come up to the plane of honor-
able occupations. Many men have decidedly bad
methods of conducting a good enterprise. They
are closely connected with others, influential in their
calling, who say that honesty in trade is impossible.
When such a one is awakened to a desire to .save
his soul he sees that to do it he must rise to a
higher discrimination between right and wrong than
most men have with whom he deals, and by so much
he will be a loser. And not only so, his connection
with men in business almost forces him down to

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246

WINNING SOULS.

their level when out of business. He must drink
with them, and play with ti>em, and go to their club,
and neglect his home, and so he gets fairly started
on the road to dissipation. Of his own desire he
never would have got into any such wa3^s. Then in
addition to all this his social life comes in. The
influence of men's words and acts and pervading
example all day is not all. Going home, where he
ought to find rest and influences pushing him up-
ward and to better things, his wife and daughters
set the full cup before him again. On his own
carpet and at his own table the suggestion to his
thoughts of evil goes on. He is not an Ariel that
no thoui^ht of rebellion acjainst moral restraints
can ever enter his mind. Evil thoughts do come
in over the choicest service of silver, amid the
most brilliant glare, and even the richest adorn-
ments. Now, the man is awakened to feel an
interest in his soul's salvation. How can he
escape from all these hindrances ? Considering how
rapidly the evil grows and hardens into confirmed
habit, there is little chance of getting his soul out
of its imprisonment. Trench after trench is dug
around it. Not one band but a thousand are upon
it. What wisdom is needful to induce him to try
to get away !

Some say there is no personal devil. Well, if
there is not, certainly the chances and accidents
have made the conditions of life exactly what a
creature such as we think the devil would be

WINNING SOULS.

247

would have made them. If there is no devil, then
there ought to be, because the condition of this
world is perfectly adapted to his desires. It is a
great pity that someone should not enjoy it. When
the awakening man hnds how his .soul is shut in, it
will be hard for him to understand it without feel-
ing that some malignant monster has deeply planned
his destruction !

But these are not all the difficulties. Give him to
understand his duty to his soul, and get aroused to
the point of determining to be free or to die. Then
for the first time he detects that years of neglect
have depraved his tastes, destroyed his sensibility.
He has been a slave so long, that now when the
proclamation of liberty is made he is afraid to leave
the old plantation. He must return there to sleep
at night. A few years ago (February, 1882), I
made a visit to the penitentiary at Kingston.
While speaking to the w^arden at the entrance gate,
a man passed out carrying a small satchel. I was
told that he had just been dismissed, after serving a
term of three years. I could not conceal my inter-
est in him. My eye followed him as he walked up
the gentle slope pointing directly towards the town.
What must a man's feelings be to find himself free,
after being treated like a dumb brute for three
years ! Constantly under lock and key, watched
by keepers, and led out to work and then led back
to the stall again, his food thrown to him as if to a
horse in the manger ! Three years of such a life,

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248

WINNING SOULS.

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but now he is free I He can go where, and do just
what he will. He is dept-ndent on his own exer-
tions. I felt strangely fascinated with this released
criminal. I said to the warden, " What will he do ?
Where will he go?" "Oh," he replied carelessly,
" he will soon be back here." (This was his second
term — two years the first time.) " No one wants to
employ a man just out of penitentiary. The world
is rough on them; and then, anyway, they have
learned so to depend upon others that they cannot
take care of themselves." And just in the same
way the soul is disrobed of its royalty and manhood
so that it cannot keep up an even desire after a
better life and a brighter world. A former pastor
of this church, now deceased, in some interesting
sketches of travel, describes the Digger Indians of
the Pacific coast. It seems that at certain seasons
they actually diet on grass. A chieftain was cap-
tured by United States soldiers. Fed on their rations
he pined away. He kept saying when food was
offered to him that it was the season for grass.
Well, at last they let him out upon the grass, and
he very soon had fully recovered his tone. His
natural appetite had become so depraved that he
would have starved on luxuries, his nature was
incapable of enjoying, while he could live and
flourish in a beast's manner of life. The same is
true of the mind. The average intellect is allowed
to drop to the level of the daily newspaper. It is
really unable to enjoy anything but the listless

WINNING SOULS.

249

do just
[ exer-
eleased
he do ?
elesslv,
second
ants to
B world
y have
cannot
le same
lanhood
after a
r pastor
cresting
dians of
seasons
as cap-
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lod was
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LC. His
that he
ire was
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same is
allowed
It is
listless

roaming from item to item, skipping every elaborate
article. That morning dish of liash — the newspaper
— disqualifies the intellect of scores and scores for
poetry, philosophy, science and religion, which they
were made bo enjoy, and upon which the intellect
should feed, only reverting to the newspaper with
its five- line items as to a drive for recreation. As
the mind and body, so the soul is degrade<l by the
treatment it receives. As the loss of appetite
means loss of health, a decline in vital energy — the
befjinnini; of death — so the loss of desire for relii^ious
duty means the beginning of death to the soul. It
is incapable of finding its ecstasy in ( Jod. It is so
depraved that it is fully satisfied with sin.

Another test of the wisdom of the soul-winner is
the fact that the man can only come out of this con-
dition of slavery and debasement by an act of his
own. It can only be by a strong decision of his
own will. But he has been insensibly taught to
regard such an act as a weakness. He has heard
men speak patronizingly, and more than half-pity-
ingly, of one who has turned to give serious atten-
tion to the salvation of his soul. Others, again,
have treated such concern with undisguised ridicide
and contempt. The impression made upon his
mind by such w^ords has been deepening for years,
and you are to produce upon his mind an impres-
sion so strong that he will rise up determined to
perform that very act, so lightly spoken of, or die.
Persuade waters to flow up the hills. Teach wild

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250

WINNING SOULS.

beasts not to relish the flesh of domestic animals.
Show a man how to hate the city where he was
born and lias spent ail his years, and which he has
seen doublinj^ its population and wealth two or three
times. The work is no greater than that set before
you in winning a soul from the world.

Then the tax on your wisdom is the heavier in
that the soul is to be won, not bought. If it were
a purchase, that would be the subject merely of a
simple calculation. In these days of great accunm-
lation, an humble man min^ht set before him as his
aim the purchase of the Bank of Montreal. We
could easily make the calculation presenting to his
eye just what he must do. Greater things have
been undertaken and accomplished by an individual.
Set the soul's value high as you choose, if it were
possible, a man might plan to purchase it and
succeed. But it is not to be taken in this way.
The nearest we can come to it is that if a man
gains the whole world., but in doing so loses his own
soul, he makes a bad bargain. One cent comes as
near to its value as hundreds of millions. It is not
to be bought. It has been bought already by the
precious blood of Christ.

Nor yet is it to be captured, like an enemy to
society. As it has been bought, so has it been cap-
tured (2 Timothy ii. 26). The infatuation under
which it is held, as already described, illustrates the
thorough capture of it. The fact is that ChriHt has
bought and owns the soul ; the devil has captured

WINNING SOULS.

251

iiimals.
ne was
he has
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ivier in
it were
ely of a
ixccuinu-
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lit to his
lor-s ^ave
dividual,
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; it and
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if a man
his own
comes as
It is not
y by the

lenemv to
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on under
Itrates the
"Jlivisi has
captured

and holds it. The wise man must jjo and stancJ
between Christ and tlie devil, and win the soul l)ack
to God. As Christ is man's advocate witli (jrod, .so
the .soul-winner is under the bles.sed Spirit, Go'l's
advocate with man.

Now, there are two senses in which things are
won. There is the case where one wins at play.
The stake is entirely pas.sive, unconscious, and un-
interested. The Church and godly men and the
Holy Spirit are playing a game with the devil in
which the stake is the human soul. Indeed, we
may say that every man is playing such a game

with the devil for his own soul. I remember an
impressive picture whose weird effect easily returns
to me when I think upon it. It represented a man
and the devil seated at the table playing this ter-
rible game. The game was ches.s. The stake the
man's soul. The man has made bad play. His
pawns were marked " honesty," " truth," " purity,"
sensibility," and .so on. They were all taken by the
devil. " Hope," his king, is being fast closed around.
It is plain that the man has already lost the game.
With consummate skill the artist had thrown into
the picture the devil's sense of power over his vic-
tim, and the man's slowly dawning consciousness of
irrevocable misfortune, as his hope is cut off. How
many are playing that desperate game ! Virtue is
gone. Honor is lost. Reputation is ruined. Hope
lives yet, but it will soon go. Then the man is lo.st.
Then the devil will drag the .shivering soul away
with him to hell.

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WINNINf} SOl'I.S.

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Rut there is anotlior sense in which men may win
— not as one wins in play, i»ut as a suitor wins tlie
lieart 01 anotlicr. h\ this case tlie olnject of pursuit
is ono party to the contest. It is in this sense the
soul-winiier must i^ain tiie soul. Now, we have
alrea<ly seen what is necessary in tliis pursuit. The
soul must he awakened to its own value and danfjer.
Then desire and aspiration must he enkindled in it.
How difheult it is to <|uieken any liopet'ulness in
one lon<r suhjrct to rel)ufis, privation and hardship,
or in one wlio lias never liad any experience of
success ! Take a schooll)OV who never was ahead
of his class ; a pastor who never sees any i^rowth
in his congregation, or any souls converted. How
hard for such to look will) any animation toward
the future ! So it is with nmcli difficulty that
an unsaved man can V)e made to l)elieve tfie pos-
sibilities of happiness and power that are before
him in the spiritual life. Another thing necessary
is to instruct the soul as to its duty and privilege
and responsibility.

When this awakening is complete there yet re-
mains the furnishing of native power. The man
must move himself in the matter. But he cannot
be moved without power. What motives will raise
him and cause him to start ? You would say that
is easy. Are not heaven and hell before him ? Yes:
but how much motive power do these facts furn b
to the average man of the world ? They have
of them all their lives. It is like cominu* to one ,. ho

WINNING SOULS.

2:)3

lifis passed his days and raised his family in the
east, and trying; in Ids old iv^e to draw him oH'to the
distant west hytellinL!- him of itseharms and advan-
taL,^eons opcnini^s for a new he^dnner. He has been
heariiit^ and resistini^ these ari,'uments all his days.

Is it likely that they will prevail upon him now :'
it is like telling one who never ea) jd for an orchestra
and chorus, of the power of music, and so tryini; to
induce him to learn to s'lw^. No ; thouijjh heaven
and hell are i^reat motives, men are familiar with
them, and are in the habit of trirtinj:^ with them.
I'liev will not alone be sufhcient to move a man
from his indifh^rence and slumber. The pros-
pect of heaven is not a suHicient motive to a man
until he gets some of heaven in himself. Then it
will move him. Before that it is like beauty to a
blind man, or melody to the deaf.

Wuat can the soul- winner do for his motive ? He
must depend upon the aid and power of the Divine
Spirit to provide a motive which no one can see, which
even the person who is moved by ii Joes not under-
stand. Were it not for this power no soul would
ever be won. The difhculties are insuperable to
human skill and argument.

Next, the soul-winner must be himself a motive,
so far as human agency can provide any power.
This is only doing in religion what men do in every-
thing else. One man is a motive power to another
often in business. A man would sink but for the
strength begotten into him by his friend, not merely

254

WINNING SOULS.

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by helpini; him with money, but by inspirinor him
with conrirlence. So in society matters, one strong
woman will lead and control a score by her single
motive power. A bad man sometimes fastens upon
a youth to lead him into vicious ways — to betray
him into some den of vice, or to teach liim the
gambler's act. The youth is not easily destroyed ;
but he is not left to himself for a day until the end
is gained, and he loves iniquity for its own sake,
and thanks his own destroyer. Now. if in the com-
mon business of life, and even for infamous pur-
poses one man may become a motive to another,
why may not the soul-winner also support by his
magnetism and presence and power the weak when
he first begins to reach up after good ? There are
many who never will be, never can be, saved until
some other person thus devotes himself to redeem
their lives ! I know there are many hypocritical
people who have a ^^reat concern lest anyone should
enter upon a religious life through the too per-
suasive influence of another. But they would drag
a man off, tie him up in a bag, or get him drunk to
secure his vote. They would let a vile man drag
another down to perdition without a word. But when
you come to grasp a man out of the fire, " Oh ! "
they cry out, " that is enthusiasm ! " Away
with such vile hypocrisy ! Let us be as wise to save
the lost as men are in worldly affairs. I shall not
forget the words of a business man to me once. His
work was carried on by a personal canvass. He

WlxVNINc; SOULS.

255

spoke of a certain prominent business man, and
said that he had made an earnest effort to establish
business relations with him. The man was oruff
almost rude, and said he, " I ^ave him up-somethinc^
1 have since learned not to do with any man." It
struck my mind very forcibly.

iRH

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THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

" God be merciful to me a sinner." — Luke xviii. 13.

THE narrative from which the text is taken
brings before us two men. They were very
unlike. Tliey differed greatly in what each thought
of himself. They differed just as much in their re-
spective opinions of each other.

One of these men was a Pharisee. He belonffed
to that larujest sect amoncf the Jews, the members of
which prided themselves upon the strictness with
which they oljserved all the outward forms of
religion.

They furnish a good illustration of men's tend-
ency to lose the substance while clinging to the form.
In the great Roman Catholic churches of Montreal,
the priests sometimes carry a vase in which is a
bright Hame that shines through the porcelain, and
this tiame is constantly burning incense that spreads
its perfume through all the surrounding air. But
sometimes while the priest swings his vase the flame
within goes out. No incense is burnt after that; it
ofives forth no frai»rance ; but flame and incense have
no weight, and the man keeps on swinging his vase
aloft, while no glowing light shines through, and no

THE PHARISEE AND PUHLICAX.

257

sweet perfume is given forth. Now, that vase re-
presents some Christian people who keep strictly to
all the forms of relifjion wlien their life has ceased
to give out any of the influence of the Christian
spirit, and their hearts no longer glow with its light.
This was true of the Pharisees in our Saviour's
time. Having been a holy, separate people in their
origin, they had lost all the glow of the inner light,
and retained only the empty frame of forms and
ceremonies.

The other man whom the narrative brings before us
was a publican. He belonged to a class universally
noted and despised beyond any people in the world.
As tax-gatherers, their whole course was an uninter-
rupted career of extortion and oppression. Hence,
they could not but be despised.

Now, we find these two men in the temple at the
hour of prayer on the same day. The church is a
good place in which to study men, because, then,
people are likely to be honest ; though, of course, if
one goes to church as he goes to a concert, or to the
theatre, or to a ball, merely to see, to be seen and
amused, he will probably carry there the same airs
of dissimulation which he practises in any place of
social concourse. But if, like these two men, he
feels some sense of God's greatness, ami some desire
to worship Him, he will cast aside all efforts to
appear in any way different from what he is.

Let us begin with the Pharisee. He stood and
prayed. " God, I thank thee." Now, that is good. I
17

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258

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

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am ^lad to make the acquaintance of such a man as
that. He seems to be a perfect gentleman. Oh, it is
well for us when we can so far enter the temple, like
this Pharisee, that the heart is full and glowing
with grateful feelings, and they rise to our lips be-
fore any other. We have been kept alive through
another week of dan<;ers. Providential mercies
have filled our hands. Some great blessing has
come to our family, some deliverance from calamity ;
or the toil and anxiety of business have not broken
down the happiness of home, and there has been
some return for toil ; some entanglements that threat-
ened badly have straightened themselves all out,
or a boy that gave his parents some anxiety for his
future has entered a m)od situation and is doinjj well
— when anything of this kind is uppermost in the
mind, as one enters the temple and swells the first
note of thanksgiving, it is well. He will have a
good time in the sanctuary on that day. The ser-
vice will not bo tedious — the day not long!

So this Pharisee seems to have come. " God, I
thank thee . . . th'it I am not as other men." Ah I
that is bad ! After all, I feel anxious about this
man. It shows a bad vein in his character to begin
so soon to compare himself with others. We could
overlook it if a man's first thought in church was,
" I thank God that this autumn day my fields are
golden with a rich harvest of waving grain — the
ripened wheat is ready for the sickle," though we
might think that some other things ought to have

THE PHAKISEK AND PUBLICAN.

259

swelled the first note of thanksgiving ! If he began,
" I thank God that business is improving ; last week
a bad debt was paid that has enabled nie to meet a
large note that was troublint' me," we would think
that some selfishness had crept into his praise, but we
would excuse it. But no man would have a thought
of selfishness if he began, "I thank God that during
the last week my little child has recovered from a
distressing and dangerous illness;" or, when the afflic-
tion had been long continued and very painful, and
had grown hopeless, if he should break out in thanks
while the tears would fall like rain, t^^at the end
had come to the long sacrament of pain and anguish
— " the child is at rest, and now, while I lift m v heart
in praise here, the little voice is joining in the choir
invisible — he meets to worship with the angels."
No, there would be no selfishness in such thanks-
giving as that ! And there are many things that
may properly enough swell the first note of thanks-
giving; but when, of them all, a man must turn to
that one thing that he is not like others, it looks
badly, and you may well feel some concern about
that man ! Of course, there are some respects in
which it is perfectly true that one person is not like
others, and for that fact most persons may well feel
a reasonable amount of gratitude; but those <liffer-
ences between one and others are not likely to come
first to the mind of a genuine worshipper. Such a
one will think of himself in that character in which
in God's house all are equal. The Duke of Welling-

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200

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

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ton once knelt at the altar to receive the sacra-
ment of the Lord's Supper. Then there came and
knelt at his side, a plain, poorly-dressed working
man. One of the attendants was about to remove
the latter ; but the Duke turned, and — I do not
think it was an interrupticm to his devotions to say
such a thing — he said. " No, we all are equal here."
All the distinctions made for social or politic reasons
in the outside world are entirely without authority
here. Tn the temple a man has no right even to
know that he is not as others are.

Bat our concern deepens about this Pharisee, for
he is not only self-righteous, but meanly invidious.
He thanks God that he is not as other men, but
points out and mentions one particular person, " even
as this publican." Now, that was not in his ritual.
I suppose he raised his eyes for the moment, and as
he ditl so, saw this man. He looked hard ! How
could it be otherwise ? Let any person enter a
business in which he must be constantly stultifying
his conscience by the basest reasons and most paltry
arguments; let him keep doing what his better sense
tells him to be wrong, and every day justifying him-
self by such subterfuge as, " U I don't do it, some
one else will," or " 1 must live," or " You see, I have
a family to support," and in a short time such a
course will make his heart hard, his conscience will
come to be as if seared with a hot iron, and he will
appear hard in gait and in expression. Then the
manner in which he was always treated in perform-

THE PHARISEE AND PUFiLICAN.

261

inf]^ his duties would make Inm awkward and rude
and coarse, even it' his work had been strictly ri^ht
and ffood. No doubt he was dressed badly and
seemed stranjre in the place, for it is not at all likely
that he went to the temple very often. The Pharisee
took all this in at a glance, and he no doubt pitied
him somewhat and despised him a great deal. I
th'nk he fe-lt toward him very much as sometimes
you have felt when some wayfarer has made his
way into your church, who looked rough and hard
and poor ; his face was bloated, and his eyes blood-
shot, and his bruised countenance showed marks of
violence. Some good impulse led him into the
consecrated place, and after looking in one direction
and another, dreading lest some should frown upon
him — they were so well dressed he thought they
would not want his company — he at last turned
away into a corner, and as you looked upon him
you felt glad that you were not such as he. And
you had a right to be glad. It would not be much
to your credit if you were not. But if your thought
did not recognize God as the giver of all that you
enjoy, you had no right to take that gladness and
bind it up with your religion as an offering to God.
Well, so this Pharisee looked upon the publican, and
at once he thought of extortioners, of unjust men,
and of men dangerous to domestic peace, and he
attributed all these qualities to his fellow-worshipper,
and he felt glad in his soul that he was not such a
man. And that was all there was of it; but he called

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262

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

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it thanks to God, and in that he was wrong. Now,
it is not uncommon for simple gladness to be mis-
taken for thanks to God. A man may be glad for a
good harvest, because his home is bright and happy,
because his sons are prospering in business, or his
daughters are happily married, and all are well, and it
is right to be glad for all such things. An infidel
is as glad from all such causes as a Christian is ; but
it is very likely that his thought is that his own
skill and shrewd management have brought all this
about, while the gratitude of a truly devout heart
recognizes God as the giver of everything that
causes the heart to be glad.

And so, wearied of his acquaintance, we will leave
that Pharisee at his devotions and with his God.

We turn now to the rude publican, who stands in
the dark shadow of the portico, and scarcely dares
allow his voice to be heard, while with much abase-
ment of self, he prays simply, " God be merciful to
me a sinner."

He is an example of the manner in which we
ought to come to God. Let us study this example
for our guidance.

1. The first noticeable thinjx is his forsfetfulness
of everything but himself and God. There is no
thought of how he may appear in the eyes of other
men. He is entirely indifferent to the ill opinion
formed of him by his fellow-worshipper, the Pharisee.
God is there, and it is He whom he would reach.
It is not for me to say how often it may occur that

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

263

people come into the temple more concerned as to
the appearance they .shall have in the eyes of other
men than in the eye of God. This humble man,
taught only by the Spirit, is a guide to all.

2. Then we learn that in a successful prayer we
must recognize what we are. "God be merciful to me
a sinner." Tliis man was a sinner. He felt it, he
acknowledged it. He built not upon boasted virtues
either of his ancestors or of himself. There was no
ostentatious leading in of deeds of charity. And
yet, I doubt not, this man had had his good thoughts,
and felt many a noble and generous impulse,
and had done some good deeds in his life. One day
he had been on his rounds, collecting the taxes for
his employer, and he came to a poor vinedresser's.
The year had been a bad one, and the poor man had
not his money ready, so the publican with many
bitter words seized all the fruit he could find — some
bundles of tigs, and some baskets of grapes and
oranges. As he turned away he heard the poor man's
hungry child cry out for some tigs, and it touched
him. On he went toward the place of deposit, and
in the distance he saw a lonely figure upon the high-
way. It was a leper. He had just been declared
by the priest hopelessly infected, and the usual
ceremony had just taken place. The burial service
was read over him, a shovel of earth thrown upon
him, and so all his kindred were taught to think of
him as one among the dead. He had been turned out
alone, and as he came along his sad voice sounded

264

THK I'HARISEK AND ITHLICAN.

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doleful enough, as accordiiu' to law he laid his hand
upon his lips, and cried out, " Unclean, unclean ! "
The publican saw and heard him. The cry of the
vinedresser's child had touched a tender chord in his
heart, and it vibrated afresh when he saw the suffer-
ing leper, so he did what many better men would
not have done. Gathering up a bundle of figs and
a branch loaded with the best oranges, and several
large clusters of grapes, he ran forward and threw
them hastily at the feet of this leper to whom no
one was permitted to give food. That night after
all the hard acts of one of his worst days, he went to
his den, and sitting alone reflected. His manner
of life seemed damnable in his own eyes. His better
instincts told him that he was at war with Vjoth God
and man. In his thought he said, " It has come to
my knowledge that Curtius paid half a million
sesterces for the taxes of Judea, and he is trying to
collect one and a half millions. It is too much.
He has already grown enormously rich by driving
such bargains ; but such money must be anathema.
And it is by such instruments as I that he is enabled
to rake in his enormous gains. I get the odium, he
gets the money. I will not do it any longer. To-
morrow I will go to him and throw up my district."
This man had sincerely desired, and earnestly tried
to do better. But what can an unaided man do
against all hell, and all of his own world ? This
man felt that he could not do much, so he deter-
mined to try another way, and come to God. I

THE I'hauiskp: and imjbmcan.

2(>o

lis hand
iclean ! "
1 of the
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don't believe any of his good thoughts or acts were
valueless in the sight of God. I don't believe any
good that any man ever does will be lost; but when
he opened his lips in prayer, he made no mention
of any good thing he had ever done. He (»nly
remembered that he was a sinner.

So we all, when we stand in God's presence, must
remember only that we are sinners in His siirht.
How else shall we go ? Shall we claim that we are
naturally good ? Then the testimony of all who
have ever lived will cover us with confusion, as it
declares that " there is none good, no, not one," and
asserts that we were " shapen in inicjuity, and con-
ceived in sin." Shall we claim that we are not per-
sonally guilty ? Out of the living word shall Hame
against us the testimony, that " all have sinned and
come short of the glory of God." " If we say we
have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is
not in us. If we say we have not sinned, we make
Him a liar, and His word is not in us." Shall we
come claiming that by a life of strict purity continued
for a long time we have made ourselves acceptable
to God ? Why, no matter how long we may, if it
were possible, obey every commandment, still that
makes no provision for the sins we committed before
our life of strict obedience commenced.

'6. We pass on now to learn a third lesson from this
humble man as to the right manner of approaching
God. We notice what he sought. He prayed for
mercy. Now, what could be so appropriate to the

266

THE I'HAIUSEE AND I'UHLICAN.

' ♦

case of a sinner as mercy ? Onintini^ all his good
deeds, still they did not rise so hiu^h, nor were they
so numerous as to justify him in asking a reward
for them. Imagine any man among us going to God
asking to be rewarded for the goodness of his life.
Select the holiest man or woman from any church,
and think of the impression that would be made
upon your mind, if he should go up to God and claim
a reward for any work done in this world ! Such a
fancy shows us how very much out of the way such
a petition would be. No one has dune anything foi-
which he mav claim a reward. If it is all of jL^race that
a man is saved, or taken into heaven at all, much
more it is of grace that any value is attached to his
good deeds, and any measure of hapj)iness allowed to
him in conseijuence of them ! He may receive such
reward as an undeserved gift, but may not claim it
as a just compensation.

Again, if a sinner should ask for justice, the first
gift it presented would destroy liim. But one thing
remains which he can ask, and that is, mercy. No-
thing else is suited to a sinner. But there is a deeper
meaning to this prayer for mercy than appears on
the surface. This will come out in an enquiry as to
the conditions upon which the suppliant expected to
receive mercy.

There are three ways by which sin may be dis-
posed of without punishing it with death.

The first which 1 will mention is simply letting it
go as if it had never been committed. The idea of

THE PHARISKE AN'D PaBLlCAN.

267

disposing of all sin in this way has hoen growin;^^ in
popularity dnrinf]^ the last few years. Books have
been written in favor of a plan so simple. Churches
have been built up on this idea as a foundation
stone. Many, in their zeal for the adoption of such a
method, have appeared to denounce any system of
theology which provides for the adeijuate punishment
of sin. To-day the man who dares use the words
"eternal punishment" to express what he thinks
sin deserves, will expose his popularity to great risks.
Now, on this subject several things may be said.

The first is, that this letting sin go, just as if it
had never been committed, and saying nothing about
it, is a plan which has never been adopted by men
to any great extent in their dealings with each other.
But few persons will let offences against themselves
pass unnoticed. Even good men find reasons sufficient
to justify them in exacting an account for every deed
done against them — such as their own dignity, the
good of society, the best interests of the offender
himself. Oh, there are just grounds enough why a
man should seek redress for all affronts. If it be a
simple debt that can be cancelled by money, the very
principles upon which good business men conduct
their affairs would be perverted and strangled, if a
creditor should just let a debt go as if it had never
been incurred. For other offences the method of
shooting the offender is not so conmion as it once
was, but still in some way men continue to demand
reparation for all the sins committed against them-

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THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

selves. It is only the sins committed ai^'ainst God
that they are so anxious to pass over without any
notice.

But the fact is that sins committed a<:fainst God
do not touch everyone, and all whom they do not
touch can easily manacfe to let them ;^o as if they
had never been committed, but the same persons ijrow
furious and unrelentini; iti their demand for instant
redress if one of these offences chances to cut into
their lives or plans. No, this simple method of just
letting an offence pass without notice will never
become poptdar amonj^ men as a mode of dealing
witfi each over.

Another thing that may be said upon this subject
is, that this plan has never been tauglit to be God's
method in dealing with the sins of transgressors.
Mo religious systeiiri has ever taught mankind that
their offences against the Deity would be good-
naturedly passed over as if no offence had been
ixiven. Hoth heathen and Jewish reliijions have
been full of bloody sacrifices for sin. Nor yet is
there anything in the history of nations from which
men would get the idea that sin is so small a matter
that God will just pass it over in good nature,
as a man passes over his child's or brother's hasty
word. In all ajxcs history «-"<! ndiixion have united
to impress the Imman min<l with the idea that sin
will be followed with terrible punishments. Cain
was banished. Achan was stoned. Every Jew
either experienced the extreme penalty of his sins,

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

269

or else he saw a sacrifice V)leed upon the altar as an
atonement. Among all heathen nations the punish-
ments of sin against the gods were bloody and
terrible.

Now, it is safe to say that this publican knew
enough about the shedding of the blood of both Jewish
and heathen sacrific(^s, to prevent any expectation
arising in his mind that his sins would be forgiven
without an atonement. He did v.^r, pray for any
such exhibition of mercy. He dia expect that
good nature would overlook as of no consequence
the sins which he himself felt to be exceeding sinful,
and would forget offences which he himself could
not forget. Now, under such circumstances can you
tbink of a man offering a prayer tliat would not in
some way recognize an atonement ^ Imagine a
Jew or Gentile standing in the temple, literally
reeking with blood, and praying for mercy without
any recognition of a bloody atonement ! Why, it
would be impossible. A man in that age could not get
hold of such an iden He could not think such a
thing. Everything w.is forcing into his nund the
notion of atonement for sin by blood, and it was not
pos.sible for him to think of mercy conung in any
other way.

This, then, was what the publican meant when he
called for mercy. He did not expect that the
Almighty, in answer to his prayer, wou'^ amiably
let his sins pass as if they never had been 'ommitted,
but his soul was pierced with the thought, how

I,,

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270

THE I'HAKISEE AND PUHLJCAN.

j^rcat is my need of an atonement ! Who of all the
thronji^ini;' multitudes, so needy as I ' O that a
sacrifice were offered in my behalf I (J that I also
might escape from death on account of my sins, by
a sacrifice being offered for me ! () Oo<l be merciful
to me a sinner ! ( ) God let an atonement be found in
my behalf! 1 have no offering to bring, but let me
not be unatone(r foi* and unforgiven ! Let there be
a propitiation foi- me also !

Now, this is the meaning of the j)ublicHn's prayer.
It was a prayer for propitiation. It was his earnest
cry for Christ.

I have, by various steps in my argument, .shown
that the spirit of the age in which the publican
lived, the ideas that filled the air around him, would
lead him to embody in his prayer a petition for an
atonem«>nt. But now I come to the stronger point
that this meaning is distinctly contained in the wonl
itself which he used.

The third way of m'ttiu'^ sin out of tlie way
without the death of the sinner is by a satisfactory
atonement, which preserves the autliority of the
law which has been broken, and yet makes it pos-
sible to let the simier go free. Now, the publican
had this plan of escape in his mind. Never in his
life had he seen anything in the customs of men
that would suggest any other way to his thought.
Hoth heathen and Jewish altars were constantly
<lrenched in blood. Its ever-Howinu: stream tau«'ht
men the great evil of sin. If the blood of the sacri

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THE I'HAHISEK AND PUBLICAN.

•271

fice did not How, then the blood of the offender
must How. He had .seen men hrinirini; their animals
to oHer in sacriHce. He had seen the priests stand-
ini^ at the holy altar oHerin*.^ the sacriHces for the
people.

The word translated ' merciful " means Hrst a
propitiation, an atonement: then, as pardon or
the showinix of mercy followed the oHerinix of atone-
ment, the word liad a secondary meaninj;^, and that
was " merciful." 'J'he word in the orij^inal Greek is
/ArjrrTi*//r^, from i'\(Y(>)((>nai. Now, we find this
same word in Moiner, and we may safely take it for
granted that he knew the pro))t'r meanino; of (Jreek
words, and if we can jjjet a clear idea of what lie
n5<^;;ns hy the word, we mxy put thit meaninu- into
i::..- pas.saf^e.

[!i one place Homer represents i .e ({reeks as
suHiM-ini; from the ravages of a pla<;ur, which they
helieve was sent upon them from Ap» Uo, in anu'er
on account of an oHencc which they hav committed
aofa".nst liim. They had carried a viroir as a ca})-
tiye away from the service of his temph A wi.se
counsellor amon<]j them, Chalcas, advi.se? that, to
make amen<ls for tlie otl'ence they had co 'Uidtted,
the}' should return that virj^dn to the ten ole. and
then otter to Apollo a hecatoiid' as a hloody ? icriHce.
He encoura<i;es tliem to hope that the i^od, beii ^^ thus
propitiated, will tui-n iside tlieir calannty. Now,
the word which Homer u.ses to describe the eH'ect
of that sacriHce is the same which is here u; ed in
thi.s prayer. Apollo wil! be propitiated, he wil have

272

THK PHAKIHKE AND IMIHLICAN.

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iiHTcy. It follows, then, that any proper regard
for correct interpretation will compel us to see in this
man's prayer an appeal for an atonement. Let God
be propitiated in my behalf ! Let a Messiah, a
Christ, be found for me !

Now, in this he is a sinyjularly strikinf; example
to us of what we need when we come to Ood. We
need Christ ordy, always, and supremely. We must
come with the persuasion that there is no salvation
for us but in Him.

What we, as sinners, need to pray for is Christ,
just as this poor publican prayed for Him. It is in
vain that we )»ray for mercy, except as it is ])ro-
vided for by His death. But if we pray for mercy
throni^h His name, and trust to the merits of His
sacrifice, then for His sake ail our sin may be passed
over; and the divine justice will be as nnicli honored
and exalted in our f()i<^dveness and salvation as it
could possibly be in our destruction as a punishment
for our sin.

3. Attain, this publican is to us an encourapfinix
example, for " he went down to his house justitieti.'
So will everyone who, like him, comes to (lod in an
acceptable manner, with a due lecocriiition of his
own sinfulness, and a proper re<j[ard to Christ's aton-
injx sacrifice. The humble shall not come to (t<>d in
vain. No sinner need then despair. H* (n>«l can
pardon sin at all, He can pardon the worst sins,
and all th(i sins of the worst man who ever lived,
just as easily throu^di Christ as the sins of the best
man who ever lived.

THANKS FOR THE GH^'T.

A CHRISTMAS SERMON.

"Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift." — 2 Corin-
thians ix. 15.

THIS is the one day of all the year for joy and
gladne.ss. Even the i^rcy luiii'.s of the most
Efjed and venerahle shake with the launhter within.
And from that hi«,diest ,snow-crowned peak in all the
area of human life, the ever-increasin<^ .stream of
laughter goes rippling and sparkling <l()wn through
the domestic circle The maternal brow, marked
with burdens and cares, becomes more placid and
smooth, as the remembrances that each year has
.sacredly treasured up in the true heart, pour in a full,
fresh current over the gladdened spirit. Ttie little
stream of laughter on the cold peaks of age b<comes a
resistle.ss torrent us it dashe.« into tlie nursery, .scatter-
ing toy> and delicacies in reckless confusion, breaking
out in wild huzzahs aixl .diouts, in tiiuinph that
.school laws have lost their juri.sdiction, and that the
fragments of the family, scattered for purposes of
business and education, are drawn together again by
the resistless magnetism of love. What a day,
18

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274

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

1 4 -'

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III

that can send clear around the world peals of
laughter echoing and answering back, and currents
of sympathy that soothe and heal, and make the
tears dry n)ore rapidly !

Of all the days of the year, this should be a day
of thanksgiving and praise. Whatever doubts may
be started as to the 25111 of December being the
exact date, ce/taitdy we do know that the (Christmas
child came into the bleak wilderness of our world's
life, and came as a gift of God so precious that no
human language can state how high is the estimation
in which it should be held. It is indeed " the un-
speakable gift 1 " And every child knows that it is
because of His coming that on this day an anthem of
unwritten music, inspired by the deepest feeling and
highest and purest emotion of the human heart,
floats up to the throne of Ocxl in the pealing notes
of laughter and joy from millions and millions of
happy Christian children !

But how to be thankful, that is the ((uestion.
Gladness and thankfulness to God are not the same.
An atheist is as £;lad when his health is jrood and
his business prosperous as a Christian can be. But
he knows nothing of true thankfulness to God.
How can we as Christians raise; the gladnc^ss of this
day up to the higher plane of true, fervent thanks
to (Jod for the gift that gives the day its character ?
A great many Christian p(H)ple are discouraged be-
cause they have not realize<l from their hard-fought
V)attle in life all th.ey had hoped for. A man sat at

THANKS FOR THE (JIFT.

276

his desk where for a fi^oocl many hours he had been
bendinf]j over his work in intense apphcation. His
mind at last turned in upon itself and refused to
deal with the fii^ures and prohUnns V^efore it any
Ioniser. He threw liiinself baek in Ids eliair and
spread his hands over his face and closed eyes. He
was a man in moderate circumstances in life, and
with inci'easiui^ly hiijjh prices of everytlun<j^ needed
by his family, his efforts had not succeede«l in brin;:^-
iui^ a proportionate increase of income. And as he
sat there wearied in his chair, not asleep and yet
not wholly awake, naturally his thoU(,ditsran on his
worldly condition.

H' by souK^ <(rand speculation he could Hnd a short
road to fortune — if a draft sIkmiM fall at his feet,
as if from the sk v, makinii him the owner of
millions, Ikjw j^randly he would use this new wealth
entrusted to his hands I And then liis thou'dit Hew
abroad, visitin<!; one atid another of tlu; many
ac(iuaintances whom his muriitlcence should bless.
His fancy saw boxes of tea and raisins, and barrels
of sugar and Hour, and hams and fruits ])ourini( into
the homes of the sur)>rised poor, and of distant
friends whom he knew, all in time for (Christmas
festivities : and furs and costly i^araents, and beauti-
ful V)ooks and all manners of toys that delight
children. And as for his own home, it had su<ldeidy
become a rielilv furnished eastern paradise, where
his wife ?noved a (pieen, an<l his childn.'n sat radiant,
happy, antl l>eautiful as if sent frouj the celestial

fiiiilr

276

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

splieres. Such |[;lory it was too bud to disturb, but
duty sternly called him back to the plain and homely
realities of his life. And as he took up the thread
of duty he soon became aware that he was less con-
tented than before his ^or^eous waking dream.
Dwelling in fancy upon grand po.ssibilities liad in-
creased his happiness the less in proportion as their
realization was grossly improbable !

Here, then, is one point made. Neither thankful-
ness nor liappine.ss grows while we are comparing
ourselves with others. There are two ways of
making such comparisons. Those wliose worldly
endowments are slender may think of them only in
comparison with other persons who have much
more ; but in this way fancy runs up the ladder so
rapidly, that no matter how large one's share of gifts
and mercies, he would still .see some more blest, and
in his more advanced condition, his contentment
would be poisoned tlie same as in tlie less advanced.
For this reason no thankfulness will be promoted
by comparison. Knvy, spitefulness, gangrene, and
covetousness are the us'iai fruits of our dwelling-
much on other pe()|)le's prosperity as compared with
our own; and, indeed, in ninety-nine cases out
of a hundred, discontent does not arise because
people havr not enough for necessary comfort, but
because the}' have not (juite as much as others.
They may be beyond the highest point reached by
their dreams of prosperity in some previous period
of life, but so long as another family is able to

lili

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

•277

pay for higher-priced articles — thouj^di the cheaper
answers the purpose e(|ually well — they cannot be
contented and thankful. They have not philosophy
enough to know that fancy prices are invented to
gratify the vanity of ignorant people, who happen
to own money, and have nothing else.

The other way of making comparison is where a
person, by inheritance or success, lias gained the
whole world — that is, money enough to have, with-
out any anxiety, »'verything this world can give.
Many such persons were brought up in very poor
circumstances, and would really \h\ more natural
and easy if living as they were always accustomed :
but the satisfaction they derive from their posses-
sions comes from knowing that others envy them.
Indeed, it is not flattering to human nature to know
that the real value of expensive things to their
possessors lies, in very many cases, in the fact that
many others who cannot afford the same will look
upon them with covetous eyes. It is a pitiable
spirit; but human breasts will harbor it. The value
of the splendid carriage, and dashing team, and
gorgeous apparel, and stately mansion would be
greatly depreciated if they awakened nobody's
wonder and sur])rise. Less costly things wo\»ld
serve the place as well and atibnl as much happi-
ness, but would not reflect so much consecjuence
upon the possessor. Now, persons of this class will
find their contentment as much «li.sturbed as poorer
people do, if they make comparisons between them-

■'■JP

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278

THANKS KOH THK 01 FT.

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selves and others in respect to the consequence they
have in others' eyes. Such a person, wlio had the
i^hjry of a trace of the blood of the nobility in his
veins, was tryini( to browl)eat a laborinf^ man. The
man was silent for a i^ood while. At last he looked
up, and with su<^<,'estive coolness, uttered these
remarkable words: "If thoo knewest how little I
care for thee, thoo'est be surprised." It i.s very
su<^^<jfestive to reflect that to many people the value
of f^reat possessions lies in the fact tliat tliey make
just such people as this plain man care for the one
that posses.ses them. If people would once cease to
rate a man's consequence by his money, there would
be an end of the discontent that comes from compar-
ing ourselves with others, both among the rich and
among the poor.

This was the first truth the weary man learned
from his waking dream as he sat in his chair in his
oHice. He was not more happy and contented and
thankful for the com])arison made in thought
between his condition and that of others. But lu;
performed his duties and went home. He found a
loving wife and bright, healthy children. They sat
together at a plain meal, but rose refreshed, and
he thought, " Why, a king's repast could not better
satisfy the needs of his body, or give more enjoy-
ment in partaking." Reading that evening, he
came upon a little article on domestic economy, and,
among other things, it said to him, speaking on
means of happiness, " Live within your income."

THANKS FOK THE (5IFT.

271)

The article was a<ldresse<l to persons in nmch poorer
circumstances than his own, and yet it assum«Ml that

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while he had been indulLrinnf the thoiiLTht that he
could not p()ssil)ly live within his. The next day
his duties called him throuL,di some narrow, dark
alleys of the city. He saw there children with
cheeks fresli and rosy, and baV)es crowinj^ in intense
delight, and mothers bending over them with tender,
yearning love. Especially he saw a plainly dressed
mother and boy enter a car. The boy carisd iov a
large bundle, and passing a large factory he told his
mother at his side; what he had seen one day of
their way of lifting large and heavy boxes to the
highest fiat. When they got otl", the man saw them
ffo to a small liouse back from the street, not very
near to any other, an<l the l)oy let his mother in, and
seemed contented to l)e at honu^ again. " There,"
thought the man, " are happiness and contentment,
because they feel that between them and the very
rich is a great gulf fixed which they do not liope
ever to pass over ; but because I am nearer to the
charmed circle I am miseralile and complaining."
In some way, though he could not tedl how, before
he entered his home that night a great peace and
sense of comfort and thankfulness liad settled down
upon his perturbed spirit like a soft, warm, downy
mantle over a shivering borly. He thought of the
great mansions in the cit3's splendid streets, and
they seemed to him to be furnished chiefly with

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great cares. They no longer called forth his envy.
He said to riches, and pomp, and vanity, "If thou
knewest how little I care for thee, thou would'st be
surprised;" and, he added, "I am surprised myself."
He had discovered that every man is a king by
being master of )iis own circumstances. From that
moment he dreamed no more about short roads to
fortune. Thenceforth the gifts that cheered his
children at Christmas time, though they had less of
gilt and spangle than some which he had left in the
store because of the too high price, yet were
not less valuable. His children's enjoyment of
them, incapable as the}^ were of knowing or caring
that thev were not the most costly gifts, covered
them over with a gilding more precious than fine
gold. He had learned to be thankful because he
had learned not to compare his lot enviously with
those more rich and prosperous in this world.

But when he told the experience, he always said
it was the ministry of the blessed Spirit that taught
him how much he owed to God, and how to prize
all that he had received.

Here, then, are two steps gained toward a thank-
ful spirit : Avoid envious comparisons with those
who have greater earthly treasures ; remember the
models of happy contentment among those not so
well furnished as yourself.

But to advance one step more, there is one kind
of comparison which aids gratitude, that is, a com-
parison between this world's riches and the qualities

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

281

of character founded in Christ, for their peace-givin^r
power and for the permanence of their ministry. Any
spirit must be of a lower mould, not to say mean or
base, that can find any considerable satisfaction in
awakeninjy other people's envy. Any spirit sensi-
tive to the most refined and delicate sensations tnust
feel that every (^reat success is discounted by the
fact that many experience chagrin and vexation
because they have not been elected to the same
coveted lot. To possess great wealth is to enter an
arena where some of the rankest passions of the
human heart find their fullest action. There are
reasons enough why people will ever desire riches,
but amonjT them all vou will not find this one, that
the highest peace is found with the greatest posses-
sions. But when a man lives in Christ and moulds
his character according to His precepts and example,
the one thing which he does find is inward peace.
Equally in the palace and the cot Christ brings peace
to His people. Then as to the permanence of their
ministry, the contrast is equally monitory. At all
times the richest men are occupied largely in guarding
their possessions lest they take wings. If they succeed,
what point do they make ? Their riches will not
show an equal interest to keep their owners.

One year ago last August I went back to the
home of my childhood. I remember how narrow had
been my world— the world of a country boy. Many
a summer day I watched the waggons coming and
going until they disappeared from my sight over the

282

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

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hill, and I wondered where they went to. Some-
times a grand covered carriao^e would pass along,
with gaily dressed ladies and imposing looking grey-
bearded gentlemen entirely foreign to our quiet
neighborhood, and as I saw tliem pass over the hill
out of my sight 1 wondered, with a child's wonder,
where their world was. It was somewhere entirely
outside of my little world, and so far as my fanc}^
could go they were removed to an infinite distance
from me, and passed our street just as comets some-
times wander within the path of our earth's orbit.
How hard my young thoughts knocked at the doors
of that great world beyond, and tried to realize what
it could be. Did trees grow there, and waters flow,
and hills and valleys alternate after the manner I
was accustomed to see ? And so I watched and
wondered until the years came and went, and at last
told me I must go out into that world, for I was a
boy no longer. When I went back, then, last year
(in 1880), I found considerable changes. A railroad
had cut. through the farm and carried me within
arm's length of the crystal spring where so often I
had stooped to drink. A stranger owned the soil
that to me was consecrated by a father's toil. But
the road where I watched the carriage was there
just as of old, only it did not climb a hill any more —
only a slight rise in the ground ; and the great dis-
tances that taxed a child's ideas and strength were
shrunk into such little spaces. And the p^^ople I had
known were not there. In some cases their children,

■4 I

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

28;?

my schoolmates, stood in their father's stead ; but
many of these were not there. But the <.]frassy hill-
side by the church was there, with the rugn^ed path
up to it, and was fast becomini^ crowded with white
monuments. And as T stood at the old gateway and
looked toward it, and the road steadily narrowed
until it seemed to come to a point just at the old
church-yard, the distance did not seem nearly so lonpr
as once it did. And I thought, no, it is not so far ; for
all these years I have been running towards it. When
I went into it I found where the people were whom
I had missed. They had been steadily going one
after another throufjh the lonor narrow road into the
silent city. And when I w^ent up into the north-
east corner, my father's habitation, the single mound
I saw there, when first I visited it many years ago,
had multiplied to eight dwellings of my kindred.

Now, I have chosen the country for this picture,
because there it is easy to realize how complete a
change has taken place in the population in the
space of a few years. One's thought can ersily
sweep the whole length of the street and realize how
nearly all the old heads have followed the strange
messenger's voice. But w^hat you can perceive in
the country is equally true in the city, though you
cannot trace it so readily. Truly, then, the ministry
of wealth is at best a very short triumph. The
failure to gain it ought not to stand in the way of
our thankfulness to-day. If the disappointed and
the poor, yea, and even the needy ask, " Why should

284

THANKS FOR THE GIFT.

I be thankful ? What has the world or Providence
done for me?" 1 say, "Thanks be unto God for
His unspeakable gift." Christ brings you this day
the forgiveness of sins. Trust in Him and find a
great and abiding peace for your soul. Christ
enables you to think hopefully of the child that died
during the year. It is not lost.

Christ enables you to look out from the windows
that overlook the unknown, with consolation and
hope ! He came to us. Let us rejoice, if so be that
we trust in Him, that each passing year is hurrying
us along the road that leads to His presence where
there is fulness of joy, and to His right hand where
there are pleasures for evermore.

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

" The memory of the just is blessed."- Pro vekbs x. 7.

/^UR study at this time is the effect upon man-
^^^ kind of the enduring memory of a good life •

and I ask you to notice '

I. That the memory of the just or good man
IS blessed in the happy impressions left on the
world's memory by goodness, as contrasted with
the impressions left in some other way.

Men have entered into history through different
gates. Some have purchased their throne in the
world's recollection by laying the foundations of an
empire; some by leading a people up out of a con-
dition of fatetul bondage, and giving them a system
ot righteous laws ; some by discoveries and inven-
tions which have vastly enlarged the possibilities of
human comfort and knowledge ; and some by the
thoughts they have dropped into the mind of the
race, or the good they have devised for it.

Now, people generally, and more especially child-
ren, are likely to regard those alone as great and
noble who are often met walking up and down the
pages of political history. Warriors and statesmen
are the models most frequently placed before the

286

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

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minds of youth to inspire in them a great ambition.
But actually political, or national fame, is not an
object to be sought in comparison with goodness in
thought and deed. The one may for a brief interval
dazzle us as the blazing splendor of a passing
meteor ; but the abiding impression that is left is as
often one of repulsion as of attraction. There is
almost always something to dread from encroach-
ing selfishness in such great personages while living ;
and much that charity teaches us to forget when
they are dead ; but the memory inspired by good-
ness asks no shield from charity. One motive to
noble deeds furnished to mankind, one act of help-
ful love performed, is something given to the world
for its happiness, and it will reproduce itself, feed-
ing for ages the hunger of the world's heart for a
higher life. The children of distant generations will
take hold upon it, and brace themselves Tor a more
determined struggle after virtue and truth.

A few summers ago I looked upon two historic
monuments — one, the tomb of Napoleon, crowded
by curious, wonder-gazing hundreds, the sarcophagus
containing the warrior's dust resting under a great
dome of gold ever blazing in the Parisian sunshine ;
all the surroundings suggestive of pomp, and mag-
nificence, and exhaustless wealth. The fancy, even
of French artists, could picture nothing ^,rander.
The other monument I found in a cemetery in
Geneva. It is a small piece of marble — a mere post
— not a foot high, on which are engraven two letters

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

287

only — J. C. Beneath it reposes the mortal part of
John Calvin. Do these two monuments actually
represent the world's memory of these two <:Treat
men ? No. Napoleon's tomb represents simply the
idea of a few statesmen, as to the tribute due to
military greatness; but the child, and the woman,
and the humble man — all, indeed, who are comprised
in the crowdinf^ millions of earth, remember Napo-
leon much as they would remember a storm, sweep-
ing with darkness, and dread, and desolation, and
blood, and death in its strong right hand !

But how different the memory of John Calvin !
You may gather more than half the Protestant
people of the earth, and in some way or other, the
memory of John Calvin, V)y his teaching, enters into
all that is best in their lives, and fills and elevates
their souls in death ! Truly by such a contrast the
memory of the just is blessed indeed !

II. We pass to a second thought. The memory of
the just is blessed in the perpetuation of their good-
ness. It is God's plan that evil shall perish, but
that good shall endure. The memory of the just is
blessed because it shall continue while " the name of
the wicked shall rot."

What is most permanent of all that we see or
know in the earth ? Why, certainly, thoughts, prin-
ciples, virtues, truth, goodness. I hold before you
this book. There are two ideas which the mind
may entertain of it. The first is the binder's or
the printer's idea of it. That includes just what

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288

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

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your eyes see as I hold it before you. It is a book,
that is, it is a shape, and is composed of certain
material substances, as leather, paper, twine, glue,
printer's ink. But this is a very low idea of a book,
and according to it one book is about as good as
another, for all are pretty much the same. But,
now, what is the second idea of a book ? Why,
tlie thoughts that are expressed in it — the truth it
teaches — tbf^ principles it unfolds. This is the only
idea that a philosopher, a poet, or any thoughtful
reader ever entertains of a book. Its external form
is nothing — its teaching is all. Now, according to
the first idea, a book may perish. Bring together
all the books ever made, all will perish in time, just
as Napoleon's tomb will crumble away ! But, accord-
ino- to the second idea, a book can never Derish.
The thought it contains will last forever ; but such
is all goodness. It is not the material part of a
book, but its imperishable teaching ! Goodness,
then, is that which lives when all material forms
perish, and the evil perishes with them. For a time
the world trembles under the tread of conquering
heroes. But they pass away and men remember
little of them but their names. New national
boundaries are defined. Systems of laws are re-
formed, and the world soon moves on as though
these men had never been ; but an impression left
by goodness in any form spreads and grows like a
mountain torrent, with ever-increasing beauty and
power. Tamerlane believed that the world should

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

289

have but one master, and that he was born to be
that master. Where he won a ijjreat batth', there he
reared a pyramid raacJe of the skulls of his enemies.
His i^reatest monument was such a pyramid con-
taining' *'i.i(hty thousand skulls. He thouf^^ht him-
self the hand of destin}-, hut he has perished utterly
from the face of the earth. Not an institution,
nor a law, of his creation, remains ; not even a
boundary marked out b}' him is now recoi^nized.
But Abel, a humble shej>herd lad, brou^dit a lamb
and offered it to God by faith. We have not been
informed of any other work that Abel did, but that
act stood at the beijiiininf' of a lonjLj contest between
ffood and evil. In that struu'de the clash of arms
shall fjo on until time shall be no more, and in everv
part of it, the intluenee of Abel's act shall arise.
Not a child shall bow to pray, no humble man shall
strive against his sins, no poor widow offer her mite
to God in faith — but the spirit of Abel's act, in offer-
in<^ an acceptable sacrifice, shall be reproduced, and
the influence of its memory shall be felt.

Voltaire <lid his utmost to mould the thou^jht of
Europe to sceptical f'»rms, and to fill the heart of
humanity with a more intense hatred against God
and Christ. He wrote many volumes, in not one of
which did he lose sifrht of this bad ambition. He is
dead, and most of his writings are silent in the
Sfrave of forgetfulness. Few authors so voluminous
have gone out under so general an eclipse, perhaps

none in so short a time ; but someone — his name is
19

III

290

THE MEMOKY OF THE .JUST.

not now known — some kind father, or more likely
some tf'nder loving' mother, looked upon the face of
her little child, whose tlaxen enrls were fast droopinf(
over her arm, as the head saidv in weary sleep, and
she thouL^ht out a swc.'et evenini; prayer, for the
lispinnr child. There were only four lines, for the
child was weary, and they were natural, and easily
remembered :

" Now I lay me down to sleej),
I pray the L(jrd uiy soul to keep :
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Compare those few words with Voltaire's volumes.
There is scarcely a child, over all the world, wher«'
our languafi^e is spoken, but feels a (^laddenirif^ in-
fluence in his heart when he repeats those lines,
and as the mother, with dewy eyes, hears tiiem,
bendinjT over the lowly form, she turns away,
feeling" like Mary of old, that she has something
inconceivably precious to hide in her heart. Here
again we find that the evil perishes, while the good
endui'es. It appears to be God's law. The wind
bears a plague into a cit\ . The plague runs its
course and perishes. The people pass through its
sorrows and live in a ])urer atmosphere, with better
health, for the wind has not perished, but returns
every morning with a message of health, and purity,
and happiness, to the same city's crowding thousands.
Tne evil plague is an accident ; the currents in the

THE ME>f<»HY OF THE .TUST.

291

air are God's pennancnt way of workiiiijj. So is the
divine plan and law that £;oodness shall live on tor-
ever. It returns like the dew-(Irop th.at shines
pearl-like on leaf and flower, hut soon dries up and,
to the simple mind seems lost forever ; hut in what
varied forma that dew-drop comes back to us ajjjain!
It has helped to paint the tints on the rose which
carries its fragrance into the sick chamher, an<l to
shape the curved lily that symjvithizes with sadness
and tears, as it lies, full of hopeful su^^gestions, on
the quiet bosom of death ; and it 'ooks down upon
us in its (jlorified form and color fi' m its home in
the rainbow. 'i'hat dew-drop 's typical o^' every
form of goodness, going out ap^xirenfly l.i darkness,
but" coming back to us in many wny,, forever walk-
ing unseen, but never with aimiess I'eet !

III. Let us now pass to another consideration
illustrative of the blessed memory ol' tlie just. It is
the fact that goodness is perpetuated, irrespective
of the position the individual occupies ninong men.

God treasures the graces of the lowly as sacredly
as those of the great.

There was once a licentious, but very powerful,
queen of Egypt. Her beauty gcive her power to turn
the legions of the Roman army, and greatly to in-
fluence the destiny of that greatest empire the world
ever saw. She is g >ne, and her name is remembered
chiefly by an obelisk, condemned to stand, of all
place-*, amid the magniflcence of great London, where
on every hand it is ove -shadowed, and can never

292

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

f . ..

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appear but pitiably small, and su<^gestive neither of
riches nor grandeur. It is correct to say that she
has utterly perished from the earth. Her great
position could not continue to her any measure of
influence.

There was a general in Syria, whose wife had a
little captive maid, and her ministry, simple but true
to God, led a proud man to learn the virtue of hum-
bler ways. As long as a soul stained with the leprosy
of sin shall seek healing at the cross, so long shall the
influence of that humble maid continue to preach
that salvation lies in the paths of humility. While
the great has perished, the humble walks the earth
forever. And how many examples occur to illustrate
that humble goodness is as fragrant with God as the
gifts of the great. Some man — no one knows who
— we only know that it was one of a certain group
of twelve men, felt in his heart the promptings of a
gracious influence which raised him nearer to God,
and caused him to feel the neeil of special guidance,
and being full of a prayerful spirit he longed to find
some proper means for its expression, and he made
a simple request of the friend more loved and
trusted than any other upon earth. He said, " Lord,
teach us to pray as John also taught his disciples."
That request was answered by the gift of a form of
prayer, which has ever since, more than any other,
expressed the yearnings of the world's heait after
God, and has cast its burdens upon him ; and which
comes to us when we are weary, and when we are

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

293

sick, and when we are not strong enough to control
our thoughts, and in such times it gives a voice to
all that our hearts can think or desire ! What a
blessing has attended the memory of that disciple's
goodness, which resulted in that simple request !

The mightiest power the world has ever felt
began in simple, unpretending, unknown goodness!

Rome is a name signifying strength. The Greek
word rhome. literally means strength. When the
power of her victorious armies was the only power
known anywhere on earth, and when under the
tread of her invincible legions, the world was
tremblintj in fear, there was a child of humble
parents, in a despised village of Galilee, who, by the
force of his goodness and love, was to become
mightier than all the legions and pomp of mighty
Rome. Though Herod, the ruler of the province,
tried to destroy that helpless and harmless child,
yet he lived to reach maturity, and was then put to
a malefactor's death, in the reign of Tiberius, under
sentence of one Pontius Pilate. All these are now
gone, Herod, Tiberius, Pilate, Jesus. Once in a while
the names of the tirst three are now mentioned, but
only that men may turn away from them with a sick-
ening and pained sense of shrinking horror ; but the
name of the obscure child is hourly in the minds
of uncounted millions, the source of the brightest
joys that gladden men's hearts in life, and the
foundation of the most enduring hopes that in death
take hold upon immortality !

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THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

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These thoughts have irresistibly taken possession
of ray mind while I have dwelt, as you all have,
upon the falling of some marked figures in our
church.

In the autumn, William Gooderham had grown
weary one evening on his way home from work, and
the chariots of the Almighty met him and took him
up, and relieved his weary feet of their burden, and
before we thought of the meaning of it all, he was
at his Father's house and found the door open await-
ing his return.

VV^e had not become accustomed to the silence
that had come down upon his place when other
visitations called others from the songs of earth up
into the praises of heaven.

One week ago to-day, William Beatty stood read-
ing the hand -writing upon the seventy-fifth mile-
stone of life's uneven way, when suddenly the light
from the way before him shone upon him with such
brightness that his charmed eye led him until he
found his place among the marshalled hosts of the
waiting stars ! He was a member of the Metropoli-
tan Church, a quiet, humble, unpretending, honest,
good man, who had no claim upon me for any
word in this place, except the friendvship I felt for
him, and the happy memory of delightful association
with him, both in and out of the church.

The Rev. Dr. Williams, one of the General Super-
intendents of our Church, lingered longer in con-
templation of the Beulah land that lifted and shifted

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

295

its attractive scenes before his waitinor eye. After
the last General Conference he took np his loved
burden of labor, and started off on the run, as if he
had felt that a certain distance must be made before
he was overtaken by some malignant pursuer. His
foot seemed a number of times to be caught in the
race, but a year ago the pursuer unmistakably laid
hand upon his shoulder. For a time they kept on at
an even pace, step by step, but it soon became evi-
dent that for the first time in his life he was not
leadinor but being led. Oh, that long hard race for
the goal ! While the joys of the Christmas season
were going out to meet everyone, he gave up the
contest and reached out his enfeel)led hand for help
ere he should fall upon the way. His Saviour took it
into His own, and led His servant up to his place of
rest among the blessed ones.

He was pre-eminently a true man. He had not
enough of worldly wisdom to be willing, after the
political fashion, to use any means of leading men to
his point of view, justifying artiHce by the reflection
they will be satisfied and glad when once they get
there. He was particular about the methods and
means employed, as well as about the ends he aimed
at. His integrity was so bold and so manifest, that
to put it und?r any suspicion would have been the
keenest wound that could possibly be inflicted upon
him.

With him religion was a flame. He had known
its deepest experiences. Conscious, present, personal,

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THE MEMORY OF THh JUST.

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and full salvation from sin was the gospel which he
lived.

He was a deep thinker and a wide reader, enter-
iniT with ready delight any and every fisld from
philosophy to chosen fiction ; but with it all he had
never discovered in himself any variation from the
doctrinal standards of Methodism, nor any need for
a variation from its rules. Yet he was in no sense
a bigot, nor narrow. His world was wide enough
to allow to all shades of opinion a field to labor in,
and his heaven rich enough to afford a heritage to
all who so love our Lord Jesus Christ as to forsake
and deny all sin for His sake, through whatever path
of truth they might approach the doors.

His life was devoted to the culture of goodness,
and his record remains. It shall live in the hearts
of those whom he influenced towards goodness, and
in the eternal principles he championed, which,
reinforced by his word and example, will continue
to walk the earth forever.

A distinguished figure has stood among the laity
of the Methodist Church, known over all of Canada
and in foreign winds, and for more than thirty
years one of the most potent factors in all the councils
of the Church. With a wide knowledge of men,
and intimate acquaintance with the excellences of
all other churches, he recently told us in a form
worthy of permanence, how in his comparative
youth he came to make the Methodist Church his
own.

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

297

When last week the Hon. John MacdonaM died,
a stronjy and most important lever in the machinery
of Methodism was broken.

He was a Methodist — but he was more. He
was a Christian man for all Christians to own and
acknowledge. His views made every man his
brother, as w^as beautifullv illustrated in the results
of his last lonj.^ journey — his visit to Alaska last
summer. It is our pride at this time to say, that
beinjx a Methodist, there was not an existinix church
with a well known ori^anization but had some
experience of his bountiful hand.

He gave to all churches; and all charities,inhisown
city or out of it, were felt by him to be his own.

He was amon^r men a just and honest man, and no
more true than kind. The verdict of this city an(i
this Dominion over his new-made <^rave will be
that he was a njood man.

As a Christian lie was a consis^tent man, present-
ing a proper balance between experience and duty.
The consistency and honesty of the balance-sheet
joined hands with the great heart of philanthropy
and the open hand of general benevolence. So
Christ lived in his life, and will live with his endur-
ing memory, and his never-ceasing life-work

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ADI3RKSS

BEFORE THE GENERAL CONFERENCE OF THE

METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH IN

THE UNITED STATES.

WHEN my Conference appointed me to the
duty of this hour, I at once began to ques-
tion why such an institution as fraternal delegates
should exist at all. They take up much valuable
time. The best answer J found to my question was
that the churches do not propose to leave to the
politicians alone the regulation of the relations which
shall exist among the great Christian nations.

The politician asks, When, if ever, shall the United
States and Canada l»e organically one nation ? He
scarcely looks or thinks beyond that point. But
the Christian churches say the United States and
Canada are already one in all things concerning
which it is of the most vital importance that they
should be a unit. In the blessed fellowship and
service of the truth there is but one thought between
us. To make this whole continent Christian and
free and great, and to lay its Christian hand upon
the peoples throbbing with vice, and crime, and

ADDRESS.

299

passion and pain in heathen lands — this is the one
article of perpetual union between the United States
and Canada.

Therefore, looking upon my duty here in the light
of one link in this holy connection, I felt that I
could so far overcome my diffidence and my sense
of the value of your time as to dare to stand before
you.

A second question, certainly very important to me
personally, was what 1 could say worthy the occa-
sion. I cherish some little hope from the fact that
you cannot know many things which are of the
greatest interest to us. About ten years ago Joseph
Cook said in an interesting prelude that the average
citizen of this great republic does not know that
anything has occurred in Canada since the confed-
eration of the provinces. Now, we are neither
surprised nor jealous that this should be the case.
Indeed, it could hardly be otherwise. You are
many and great. We are few. We have sense
enough to know the difference between fifty or sixty
millions and five or six millions. We can see that
New York and Chicago are greater than Montreal
and Toronto. We need not be told that our mater-
ial wealth is only a child's purse compared to the
opulence which here rivals the growth of a thousand
years in other lands ! Why should you take much
interest in our doings ?

Our little moon sees the sun, but it may well be
doubted if the great soaring sun as much as knows

^— -ip-sjiww

IHM

300

ADDRESS.

that our earth has any moon at all ! And so it is
natural that from across your northern boundary
we should see all you do, and just as natural that you
should not know all we do.

Also, the great events in your history are con-
spicuous, and read V>y all the world. Our own have
little interest for any but ourselves.

When you had half as many people as we now
have you made the Revolution of 1776 one of the
mightiefst facts of history, and thereby your patriots
were lifted so high that, ever since, like snow-
crowned peaks they have been seen from afar, and
like books read by all mankind.

But who knows anything about Canada's little
war sixty-one years later, in which we, too, wrested
from that same Britain's strong hand what is called
responsible government, and so reached the goal of
as perfect political freedom as any independent
State enjoys.

Then again in your war of emancipation, by
statesmanship and by great generalship, the time
was made a glorious era, and your heroes became
their own monuments, known everywhere, and
never to be forgotten.

But who knows anything about the abolition of
slpA'ery in Canada ? Why, it was seventy years
before Lincoln's immortal proclamation. It pre-
ceded the great open movements in the British Em-
pire toward the same end. Canada's first parlia-
ment consisted of sixteen men. The State-house, in

ADDRESS.

:^01

which they assemblecl, was a looj hut in old Newark,
within hearing distance of Nia^i^ara's everlasting?
roar. The wilderness stretcheil before and all
around them. No might was known which could
bring it under subjection but the might of the
human arm. Negroes were then held in slavery in
the province. But thus situated these sixteen back-
woodsmen bravely enacted that every slave then in
Canada should be free, and that human bondage
should be henceforth forever illegal in the province.
It was an obscure and now almost forijotten deed,
and is scarcely recognized in the grand story of
freedom, and is only as one line across the page
compared with the records of your gigantic struggle.
But was it not grand ? Who dares say that God
did not use that little fact in oome way to help out
the results of your great war ?

And so it is all the way down the page. Your
record has won the applause of the world : ours is
not read and little known outside our own borders,
but it is inspiring to ourselves. We see nothing in
it to be ashamed of. And we find courage in the
persuasion that one man can have as much of the
favor of God as twenty men, and our inferior num-
bers and wealth will not leave us weak if He smiles
upon us, as upon you.

And so we do not look toward you with any
jealousy. We all sincerely rejoice in your wonder-
ful successes ; we hold your institutions in the
highest respect, for indeed we have copied the most

302

ADDRESS.

'in

I '

I 1

I ;

■ !

of them. We universally entertain only the most
friendly feelinirs toward the people of this great
nation. They who from twenty to twenty-five
years ago felt differently do not care to be reminded
of it now, and even then, as I very well know, they
did not offer all the prayers, no, not by thousand
thousands, that Canada offered for the issue of your
war.

In this connection we wish vou to understand our
attachment to the British Empire. I fully recognize
that my duty here is fraternal, and not political ;
but we read such marvellous things about ourselves
in United States newspapers, that I can hardly for-
bear a few words on Canada's political relations.
Since coming here I have read, in what I should
judge to be one of New York's most sober papers, a
long article urging that the annexation of Canada
be made a plank in the platform of one of the great
political parties. Now, it is none of my business
what ends any of your parties aim at ; but the
reasons urged for this particular course were so re-
markable that I must say, that if Canada is not
now, or if it never shall be, a part of the United
States, the reason is not because we indulge any un-
friendly feelings toward this nation. It is not
because we feel toward you that we could not live
with you and share with you ; but there are other
strong reasons. To begin with, we have been
brought up to a British connection, and so we are
bound to it by all the prejudices of education.

ADDRESS.

nor?

le most
s great
[ity-five
iminded
w, they
lousand
of your

and our
Bcojijnize
)olitical ;
urselves
tdlv for-
•elations.
£ should
Dapers, a
Canada
,he great
business
but the
re so re-
a is not
United
any un-
is not
not live
Ire other
ive been
we are
iucation.

Then, as a matter of political philosophy, we like
the British Constitution better than anv other. We
see it to-day holding liberty by the hand in nearly
all the seU'-governing States of Europe. We know
that it serves us well. Under it we are as perfectly
free and independent as are the citizens of this re-
public. There is not one particular in which our
liberties, civil or religious, would be advanced by
our becoming an integral part of this great nation.

Then, like yourselves, we have a written Con-
stitution in the " British North American Act,"
which is a practical application in detail of the
British Constitution to our circumstances, and con-
serving those liberties without which Anglo-Saxons
cannot live. So that we are made secure that the
hand of the British Government will not enter
purely Canadian affairs except in the appointment
of our Governor-General, and we are practically an
independent State. Now, we honestly think that
we do better to have our affairs wholly in our own
hands than we would if we should engfaije in a
scramble at Washington, not only with ourselves,
as now, but with all the other States of this vast
Union.

But we are constantly reading that our growing
national debt is driving us into bankruptcy. Well,
we don't know it. So long as our credit enables us
to enter the markets of the world and negotiate
loans at the lowest rates, and we are able to meet
the accruing interest at a low rate of taxation as

no4

ADDRKSS.

i :

m
p

■ \ ;

if!

compared with our nearest nei<^hbors, we are not
j^oinpr .seriously to talk about bankruptcy.

I do not say wliat our future destiny may be. I
know not. Hut one tliiui,' I am absolutely certain
about, and that is that we will never be starved into
a union with the United States or anv other land.
We have learned too much independence ever to say
that we have found the business of runnini,' Canada
a failure, and that with bankruptcy starin<if us in
the face, we would like someone to take the business
off our hands.

But we are told that we would 'at once rise into
j^reater prosperity if we were a part of the United
.States. We do not see how. Our manufacturers
and fanners and miners think that they are de-
velopint^ all the wealth our circumstances admit of,
as rapidly as men can do it, and as fast as is beino^
done in the States nearest to us. And, as to boom-
inty our pop\ilation, not a man of you would come
amon^,' us if we were a part of this republic, unless
he could make more money there than here ; and, if
he could make more money, he would come just as
we are. So that, as we look upon the ca-^e, our
British connection rests upon other reasons than un-
friendliness toward you. We do not propose to
tight you with men clothed in British red. That
has not proved a healthy experiment in the past.
But from a business point of view we think our
interests may remain as they are.

But there is more than this in our British connec-

ADDRESS.

305

ire not

be. I
certain
ed into
er land.
r to say
Canada
f us in
ousiness

ise into
I United
acturers
are de-
dmit of,
ih beino;
,0 boom-
ild come
unless
; and, it'
just avS
a-e, our
Itan un-
pose to
. That
he past,
nk our

connec-

tion. It gives us a sense of national dij^nity, or, if
you will, it giatiHes our vanity. And, after all,
what on earth is so persuasive as that which exalts a
person's or a people's sense of their own consequence ?
Now, seeing that our greatness and glory are mostly
in the future, we must have .some glory to live upon
as we go along ; and, being such as we are, 1 think
you will admit that, it' we are going to live on glory
at all, we require to draw a great deal from abroad.
So we draw froin it two sources — from Britain's
past and from yours. We place all of Great Bri-
tain's history behind ourselves, and claim as our own
all he^ victories with pen and sword. We are a part
of one of the old empires of history, and so we join
hands with anticjuity. Magna Charta and the Com-
monwealth are ours. And William Pitt, and the
Duke of Wellington and Waterloo, and all the
wealth of storied grandeur in Westminster Abbey,
its glory of poetry and history and statesman.ship,
and fill the military pomp that slumbers in mute
admonition to the ages in St. Paul's — are not these,
and more, ours by inheritance, for are not we, too,
Britons ?

Then we turn round and take to ourselves a
reflection from the glory of your great achievements
also, for are we not Americans ? If we do not
shout as you over 1776, still we would neither sup-
press nor depress your rejoicing. We do not pretend
to think that Great Britain has been always right.
We waste no admiration upon the King George who
20

1^ ' ' T

1 .'

306

ADDRESS.

ruled at Westminster. But our eyes, as well as yours,
see the grandeur of liim whom nature made a king,
though uncrowned. God Almighty's King George
gave his name to the capital of this republic.

Why, we are regularly taught to associate that
name with the highest virtues. Within a month, in
glancing over a work placed in the hands of our
advanced students, I found such expressions as,
"The groat hero, Washington," and "The brave and
virtuous Washington." And that work has an origin
as British as a book can possibly have. We also
venerate with you the God-anointed Lincoln and
the invulnerable Grant ; and Vicksburg and Gettys-
burg and the Wilderness are glorious in our eyes as
well as in yours.

Why, the fact is, our feelings and interests are so
common with yours, that we are in danger of grow-
ing egotistical if you ever talk to us about your-
selves. A conceited egotist asked my bright little girl
for her photograph. She promptly replied that she
would give him a looking-glass, for she knew that
would please him better. Well, I come to speak to
you of Canadian affairs and of Canadian Metho-
dism. The conceit and the egotism are, of course,
eliminated from this problem, and I reply to you
that I can only give you a looking-glass in which to
see your own affairs and your own Methodism.

We have the same origin with you ; we speak the
same language, have the same free schools, the same
Christianity, and, to drop to a lower line, we are

ADDRESS.

307

moved by the same ambitions ; we have the same
Fisheries' Treaty, and, as a Western orator said, we
have the same whiskey ; but I say this with a
graver meaning than he did.

Our people are thinking about the same things as
yours. How to get rich by speculations in the stock
exchange, and in real estate or by contracts with the
Government ; how to own the earth and then take
the first circles of so-called society by storm. The
laborer studying the most formidable combinations
against capital, the members of each political party
trying to score a point against the other, each
bidding for the laborer's vote and the Roman Catho-
lic vote, the temperance vote and the whiskey vote.
And to all this, and through it all, the flaming
message of godly men and women in sermon and
song and testimony, calling to a holy life here and a
glorious heaven hereafter. Does not this seem to
you more like looking into a mirror than examining
a photo ?

But, especially standing before this Conference of
the great Methodist Episcopal Church, in the name
and by the merit of another Methodist Church
whose saluta,tions I have the honor to bring to you,
hearing your discussions, and noting the subjects
engaging your attention, I do not feel like a
stranger, nor do I find any dividing line between us.
The life and work and conditions of our Church are
essentially the same as in yours. These two
churches, with their common sympathies, and with-

:.; 'il

308

ADDRESS.

out any rivalries, might be organically one, and
there would be no difference from the present so far
as our practical work is concerned. The likenftsses
appear at all points, the differences at but few.
We labor among people in the same conditions.
We have a common Church history. We have
the same doctrines, and in substance the same
discipline and hymnology, the same itinerant
system, the same flitting evangelists, the same holi-
ness controversies, the same ambitious Roman
Catholicism to confront, and the same forms of sin
to defy and overcome.

If for no other reason, our origin and history give
us some claim to recognition here, for we are your
eldest daughter. About one hundred years ago
your wandering star, William Losee, entered Canada
and founded Methodism. The following year
another and greater was duly appointed to help
carry on the fast enlarging work. And there comes
in a pathetic and romantic story of old-time
Methodism. These two pioneers were both smitten
with the beauty and grace and moral excellence of
the same early Canadian maiden. The second
comer won the day. The disappointment was dis-
astrous to him to whom we owe so much. And our
chroniclers do tell that, in those most interesting
records on the face of the earth — the Minutes of
the Conference — Dunham and the country appear
again, but Losee never. I drop a tear for him, but I
am glad the country did appear again in your

ADDRESS.

309

records. In those early days we meet such names
as Martin Ruter and Nathan Bangs. Indeed, a great
part of these foundations he was.

And the great Asbury nearly lost his life in
making an Episcopal visit to Canada. He was
accompanied by the late centenarian, Henry Boehm,
and they crossed the St. Lawrence in a novel way.'
Three canoes were tied together, and, as Boehm
relates, there were three canoes, three passengers,
three horses, and four Indians. After a fortnight
of arduous toil, he crossed the lake under sail. Tnd
the record of the voyage might be laid beside Paul's
voyage to Rome, so far as its thrilling experiences
and its narrow escape are concerned. But the fact
I want to impress is that the good Asbury liked us
Canadians. Boehm wrote, "The Bishop was de-
lighted with the people," and he wrote : " Here is a
decent, loving people ; my so.il is much united to
them." We trust that you feel toward us in the
same way still. I know that those are just the feel-
ings we entertain toward you.

You felt a deep interest in the subject of Metho-
dist Union in Canada. You perhaps desire to know
how a union of four bodies has worked. What have
I to say on the subject ? Nothing. We talk at
funerals, but not over men in perfect health and full
of activity. Their deeds speak for them. It is only
breaks and failures that make a great noise. If in
practical working our union had been a failure, I
would need hours to explain ; but, instead, it has

310

ADDRESS.

5j?_

i I ■

I !i^

ill

been steadily, quietly at work. It took effect in 1884.
Our last minutes show that in three years we have
added t'wenty-five percent, to the membership which
came into the union. No, I need not say anything
about that union. There it is. Look at it.

This membership is very unevenly distributed
over the provinces. The highest percentage to the
population is in Ontario. There we have between
thirty and thirty-one per cent, of all the people. In
the Eastern Provinces we have between twelve and
thirteen per cent., and in Quebec, the stronghold of
the most formidable Romanism in the world, we
have only between three and four per cent.

Reliable statistics four years ago placed before us
the encouraging fact that we have more Sunday-
schools, and more teachers in them, and, by upward
of fifty thousand more scholars attending them than
all the other Protestant churches combined.

When we want evidence that Methodism in
Canada is a business success, we turn especially to
our book and publishing interests. In this respect,
in the pages scattered abroad, in the number of
hands employed, in the steady advance made, and
in the dividends from actual profits fairly earned,
annually devoted to our benevolent funds, we feel
that for our number, we are not behind the fore-
most of the great brotherhood of Methodist publish-
ing houses, and we are one with you in the great work
of the world's evangelization.

When you, with more than 2,000,000 members,

ADDRESS.

311

L 1884.

e have

which

ything

'ibuted
to the
etween
le. In
ive and
lohl of
rid, we

;fore us
sunday-
upward
ra than

Lism in

[ially to

•espect,

iber of

[de, and

learned,

e feel

le fore-

)ublish-

tt work

lembers,

undertook to raise 81,000,000 for missions, we, with
about 210,000 members, undertook to raise one
quarter as much as you. You succeede<l, and we fell
short of our hopes. We have only reaclie*] about
one dollar per member for missions throughout our
whole Dominion. We feel the disordered pulse of
heathenism among the native Indians, wdiere at
least ten thousand in the North-West are under our
influence, and in Japan, the only point we have yet
touched in the distant world — a mission that has
been a great inspiration to our people. Our
Woman's Missionary Society luis married it, and
the effect is a great awakening of thought and zeal,
especially among our young people, until this
Woman's Missionary Society, directed l)y a high
decree of consecrated intellijjjence and wisdom, is
really one of tlie mighty forces of our land.

I mentioned some of the obstacles which confront
us. Among these is the most a^^gressive Romanism
in the world. It dominates one province and is
ponderous in at least two others. Its artful am-
bition practises on the politician. In this it rarely
fails, and generally, when it does, it is in going
too far. A friend related that he was visitincr
one of our reformatories, and asked a boy of about
fourteen for what crime he was confined. The
reply was, " For stealing a saw-mill, sir ; and I
would not have been caught, either, only I was fool
enough to come back for the dam." Well, Romanism,
generally comes back for the dam. She wants all,

i!^

312

ADDRESS.

if '; »,

Mi <

■i '

I':

'i .'

i:i^

llli:

f! 1

111

and so sometimes she is arrested. There have been
a number of instances of this in our past history.
The results oF Protestant nnssions in that province,
althouoh not indicatijig failure, yet do not declare
a brilliant success.

I quoted some one as sayinf( that we have the
same whiskey as you. This is too sadly true. Our
Methodism is well-r ^rrh unanimous in the temperance
work. Nor have we anything to complain of in the
other Protestant churches, nor yet even in the
Roman Catholic Church. We sometimes think we
are ijetting the thing pretty well tied up, but we
have not yet got a close back-hold upon it, and fear
that we will have to wait for perfect victory until
God shall chain the old serpt*nt for p thousand
years. In this conflict we are learning from your
experiences, and with us, as with you, George Had-
dock's soul goes marching on.

In other respects we have much to encourage us in
relation to public morality. We have a quiet Sab-
bath. There is not one Sunday newspaper in
Canada. We have no theatrical exhibitions on the
Lord's day. But we have sense enough to know that
this immunity is due to the absence of the vast Euro-
pean population which throngs in nearly all your
great cities. American families here are, no doubt, as
particular in the observance of the Lord's day as the
people of Canada are.

We think that moral interests with us have
gained strength by the voting of women. It is «^

e been
listory.
ovince,
ileclare

ive the
. Our
)e ranee
: in the
in the
ink we
but we
nd fear
■y until
lousand
u your
e Had-

:e us in
it Sab-
Iper in
on the
fw that
Euro-
Ill your
lubt, as
as the

have

lit is a,

ADDKKSS.

313

fact that women by the thousands do go to the
ballot-box in Canada. I have met them there, and
have met the same women tlie eveninjx after in a
prayer-meeting, and I can certify that neither their
piety nor their modesty was impaired by their con-
tact with a ballot. Indeed, in respect to the effect
upon her modesty, I would rather any day .see a
Methodist lady at the voting-booth than in a ball-
room.

I represent here a Methodism conservative both
in methods and in doctrine. With special evangel-
istic agencies at work all around us calling for new
adaptations, while we have the most absolute freedom
of innovation, we follow the old ways; and we do
so only because convinced that they who lived
before our time knew some thinjxs as well as we
know them.

Especially has this persuasion steadied our bark
of doctrine in its course through the unrestful sea of
change. Canadian Methodism is free from doctrinal
agitation; but this does not mean that we are in a
condition of either intellectual slumber or moral in-
difference. Quite the contrary is the truth. But
thoughtful men find in their doctrinal standards
much greater breadth and depth than we discovered
in them when we were probationers. Such persons
interpret standards liberally — especially standards so
voluminous and varied in character as those of
Methodism.

ISow that the storms of fierce controversy have

WW,

314

ADDRESS.

V • ■

*'.

Ill I;

' : i

:' • ;

It'

ii:

1 i

r ■ • ■
14

passed away, men of high culture can sib in quietness
and peace, and form an estimate of the finished
works of the mighty men of the past, and then, going
back to the Bible, they discover that it contains
much more than any one man, not excepting even
John Wesley, ever formulated, especially if he
did his work, as St. Augustine and Wesley did,
in the heat of constant, violent controversy.

One result is greater freedom in the statement and
illustration and application of old doctrinal truths ;
not so much regard for the form of words employed,
as for the substance of truth contained in the words.

Another effect is that those who have long: stood
apart at wide distances are being drawn together as
by a common impulse, and there are active move-
ments in thought which look toward more striking
unions of ecclesiastical bodies than the world has yet
seen. As many rivers run into the same sea, so
many reasons move toward the same end. The
discovery, for example, is being made that sec-
tarianism is a deadly foe to missionary enterprise ;
and that souls may be saved, and even extensive re-
vivals prevail, where Arminianism, at least by name,
is not recognized ; and that through all gates of
doctrine, in some way, in spite of errors, men do find
the cross, and so reach up to a better life. And
that mere names of systems do not kill, though they
afford fuel for long feuds ; therefore, all that is true
in Calvinism belongs as much to us as to those
churches in which St. Augustine is regarded as a

ADDRESS.

315

uietness
finished
-n, going
contains
nsf even
y if he
dey did,

rient and
I truths ;
nployed,
le words.
YiQ stood
rether as
e move-
striking
has yet
! sea, so
id. The
lat see-
berprise ;
isive re-
)y name,
gates of
i do find
e. And
gh they
t is true
to those
ed as a

chief apostle of the truth. And that even our own
doctrines, when they have been used as weapons of
controversy merely, have been pushed to extremes.
In short, that genuine Christian life, like vines,
overgrows all the forms set for it to cling to; and
strong undercurrents of thought are sure to burst
forth in expression.

This is just the stage reached by Christian life
and taught in Canada at the present time.

Leading minds in at least three great denomin-
ations are speaking out in favor of a consolidation of
the three. The way is prepared by a general accept-
ance of evangelical principles and methods. All our
Protestant churches are thoroughly well educated
in evangelical ideas. The Baptists are, as every-
where, a spiritual people, and render faithful service
to the great body of truth. The Presbyterians are
in the front rank in every good work, and they
preach a gospel of free salvation to all men, without
degrading the sense of Divine sovereignty. The
Church of England has, as a rule, an earnest evan-
gelical pulpit, and is heartily active in all moral and
benevolent enterprises, and although, as we of course
think, she is hampered in method by the traditions
which bind her to one set of formalities, yet she does
not think so, and she is showing much power of
adaptation in the way of missions or revival work.
Possibly Canada will yet present to the world the
first example of a whole people laying aside all
denominational prejudices, and for the love of Christ

816

AJ)DKESS.

and men — exaltini^ oJ^'ly ^^^^ truths essential to
salvation, and no lonjjer stirrinof the bones of the
dead in the mouldy mausoleums of the past — who,
after all, were only great according to their day
and opportunity, a*id were never called of God to
be the mentors of all time.

I rejoice to lay at your feet my Church's tribute
of fraternal affection and Ljratitude. We have
learned from your wise example, and have been
stimulated by your wonderful successes, and there-
fore we feel ourselves your debtors. We venerate
the shinin<^ names which you have lifted up on high.
We hold, as in a large sense our own, the men of
conspicuous ability who have always adorned
that illustrious chair. Up to the present time the
majority among us has not favored for our own
constant use any dignitary bearing the title of
bishop. We call them superintendents, and acute
minds among us seem to discern a great difference
between being bishoped by a superintendent and
superintended by a bishop. But all the same we
like the superintendency of bishops so well, that we
import yours as often as we can, and every time we
love them more. We call them ours, and so they are
in all respects except the privilege of voting for them
when they are elected. But we go unanimously for
whomsoever you may choose. Every successful can-
didate may consider his majority increased by the
number of cur whole voting power as a Church. In
the years past we have felt your sadness our own, as

ADDRESS.

317

mtial to
L»s of the
^t — who,
leir day
: God to

tribute
Jq have
,ve been
id there -
venerate
on high,
men of
adorned
time the
3ur own
title of
id acute
itference
ent and
same we
that we
time we
they are
:or them
usly for
ful can-
by the
rch. In
own, as

standing in the shadow cast upon universal Method-
ism, by the procession of miglity men, who, clothed
in the most royal ascension robes, have gone up from
that chair, and about it, to their throne in "lorv.
They are to memory as Enochs and Elijahs; for did
they not walk with God ? Did not their fearless
thunder cau.se the Ahabs of wickedness to tremble ?
Was there not wider statiding-room for truth and
righteousness where they shutHed their feet ? We
catch the inspiration of their himinous example !

Oh, in this grand and awful game of life, all too
soon the men disappear from the board ! The pawns
are lost ! The knights are taken ! The bishops go,
and the queen is .seen no more ! Our eyes follow
them down the fast narrowing path where great
forms grow .small in the distance ! An unseen hand
sweeps down upon the board and the game is done !
The day strides out over the sea, and the night leaps
down from the sky ! Yonder the .shining gates open
wide, and as you bearing your trophies over your
heads rush up on one side, we shall crowd in from
the other ! We extend to you our right hand in the
strong bonds of abiding fraternity, and our hearts
are with you for a grand triumphal meeting there !