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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 A, W. Momerie 
 
Cornell University Library 
 arV14726 
 
 Defects of modern Christlanit 
 
 olin.anx 
 
 3 1924 031 432 499 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031432499 
 
DEFECTS 
 
 MODEEN CHEISTIANITY 
 
' Truth is the property of God ; the Pdrsuit of 
 Truth is what belongs to Man." 
 
 Von MuUer. 
 
DEFECTS 
 
 OF 
 
 MODEEN CHEISTIANITY 
 
 AND OTHEE SEEMONS 
 
 ilreadjeS in &t ^etw's, ffiranltg ffiarims, 1881=2 
 
 BY THE 
 
 EEV. A. W. MOMEEIE, M.A., D.Sc, LL.D. 
 
 LATE FELLOW OF ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE ; 
 
 PROFESSOR OP LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS 
 
 IN king's college, LONDON 
 
 THIRD EDITION, REVISED 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 EDINBUEGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCOCLXXXVIII ,/ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DEFECTS OP MODEEN CHRISTIANITY — 
 
 I. RADICAL MISCONCEPTION AS TO THE 
 NATURE OP CHBISTIANITT, 
 II. WANT OF ENTHUSIASM, 
 
 III. MISDIRECTED ENTHUSIASM, . 
 
 IV. WANT OF PROGRESS (l.) 
 V. WANT OP PROGRESS (ll.) 
 
 VI. WANT OP DEVOTION TO CHRIST; 
 
 JOB 
 
 I. INTRODrCTOET, . 
 II. CHAPTERS I.-III., 
 
 III. CHAPTERS IV. -X., 
 
 IV. CHAPTERS XI. -XVII., 
 V. CHAPTERS XVIII.-XXI., . 
 
 VI. CHAPTERS XXII.-XXVIII., 
 VII. CHAPTERS XXIX. -XXXI., 
 VIII. CHAPTERS XXXVIII. -XLII., 
 
 1 
 12 
 
 23 
 35 
 47 
 61 
 
 73 
 83 
 97 
 
 108 
 120 
 132 
 144 
 156 
 
VI 
 
 Contents. 
 
 BLIHU S SPEECH 
 
 JOB XXXII. -XXXVII., 
 CHRISTIANITY AND PEE-CHRISTIAN RELIGION- 
 I. PRE-CHRISTIAN RELIGION 
 IL THE INCARNATION, 
 
 III. THE ATONEMENT, 
 
 IV. REDEMPTION, 
 CHRISTMAS-DAT, 
 THE REST OP FAITH, 
 AGAINST OENSOEIOUSNESS, 
 THE GREATNESS OP MAN, 
 PUNISHMENT, 
 
 THE GIFTS OF THE SPIRIT, 
 THE TRIUNE GOD, . 
 THE CONNECTION BETWEEN REASON AND FAITH- 
 
 L THE RELIGIOUS USE OP REASON, 
 II. THE LIMITATIONS OP KNOWLEDGE, 
 III. THE FUNCTION OF FAITH, . 
 
 171 
 
 182 
 198 
 213 
 226 
 239 
 251 
 265 
 276 
 291 
 305 
 317 
 
 330 
 343 
 355 
 
Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 EADICAL MISCONCEPTION AS TO THE NATURE 
 OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 " Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into 
 the kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my 
 rather. " — Matthew vii. 21. 
 
 TTTE are, in a sense, too familiar with the 
 Bible. No doubt the fact that its words 
 have fallen upon our ears from our earliest child- 
 hood, has connected them in our minds with a 
 number of associations which are of great, and 
 almost priceless, value. But on the other hand, 
 the very same repetition which tends to pro- 
 duce and increase these associations, tends at 
 the same time to obscure the full and exact 
 meaning of the words themselves. The New 
 Testament abounds in expressions which would 
 
2 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 startle us 'if we were to hear them now for 
 the first time; but as it is, they have little 
 or no effect. We have heard them so often 
 that we think we must understand them, and 
 therefore we never attempt to fathom their 
 significance. Take, for example, such sentences 
 as these : " Labour not for the meat which 
 perisheth." " Lay not up for yourselves treasures 
 upon earth." " Seek ye first the kingdom of 
 God." " He that taketh not his cross and fol- 
 loweth after me is not worthy of me." " Except 
 ye eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink 
 His blood, ye have no life in you." "If any 
 man come to me, and hate not his father and 
 mother, yea, and his own life also, he cannot 
 be my disciple." " Whosoever he be of you that 
 forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be 
 my disciple." 
 
 I propose to speak to you this Lent about 
 some of the defects of modern Christianity. I 
 want you to contrast the Christianity of Christ 
 with the Christianity of Christendom, Christi- 
 anity as it is with Christianity as it should be, 
 Christianity as it is frequently misrepresented 
 and misunderstood with Christianity as it is de- 
 scribed in the words of its divine Founder. 
 
 It is manifest, of course, that everything which 
 
Radical Misconception. 3 
 
 calls itself Christianity cannot be legitimately 
 entitled to the name, for we find the most anti- 
 thetical and contradictory systems laying claim 
 to the same designation. One sect, for example, 
 tells us that God loves all men, and wishes them 
 to be saved ; another says that, with a few ex- 
 ceptions. He hates them all, and has determined 
 they shall be damned. One sect says that the 
 disciple of Christ is bound to set an example 
 of good conduct ; another says that it does not 
 in the least matter whether his conduct be good, 
 bad, or indifferent.^ This diversity in so- called 
 Christian sects existed from the very first. St 
 John found it necessary to exhort his readers to 
 exercise a thoughtful discrimination. " Believe 
 not every spirit," he said, "but try the spirits 
 whether they are of God ; because many false 
 prophets are gone out into the world." 
 
 Iniquities have been perpetrated by professed 
 Christians, and even in the sacred name of 
 Christ Himself — iniquities as grievous and abom- 
 inable as ever disgraced the most benighted 
 
 ' One of my reviewers thinks there is no such sect But the 
 above clause expresses precisely the doctrine of the extreme 
 High Calvinists, who hold that an elect person does not sin, 
 even when he commits actions which are in themselves wicked. 
 Whittier speaks of 
 
 " Antinomians free from law, 
 Whose very sins are holy." 
 
4 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 paganism. And the antagonists of Christianity 
 often take advantage of these enormities, and 
 urge them as arguments why a right-minded 
 man must refuse to call himself a Christian. 
 " To so many evils has religion persuaded men," 
 exclaimed Lucretius and the old opponents of 
 religion. "To so many evils has Christianity 
 persuaded men," say the modern opponents of 
 Christianity. This is a rhetorical device of 
 which Swinburne has been fond of availing 
 himself. But I was pleased to notice the other 
 day — I daresay you noticed it too — in his son- 
 net published in the newspapers upon the per- 
 secution of the Jews, he rightly distinguishes 
 the Christianity of Christ from the Christianity 
 of Christendom. He does Jesus the justice to 
 exculpate Him from the crimes which His pro- 
 fessed followers have committed. He closes the 
 sonnet with the following apostrophe : — 
 
 " Face loved of little children long ago ! 
 Head hated of the priests and rulers then ! 
 Say, was not this Thy passion to foreknow, 
 'I In Thy death's hour, the works of Christian men ? " 
 
 I do not intend, however, now to dwell upon 
 flagrant and atrocious violations of Christian 
 principle. I wish to criticise rather, respectable, 
 mediocre Christianity. I wish to speak of that 
 
Radical Misconception. 5 
 
 kind of Christian (so called) who seems as in- 
 nocent of doing anything very bad as he is of 
 doing anything very good. By the expression 
 " defects of modern Christianity," I do not mean, 
 of course, to imply that all the defects to which 
 I shall allude characterise, in their extremest 
 form, all modern Christianity. God forbid ! I 
 only mean to say, that they are characteristic of 
 large classes of men and women who are wont 
 to call themselves Christians. Priedrich von 
 Logau once said — "The Lutherans, the Papists, « 
 the Calvinists, are extant and flourishing, but | 
 where is Christianity ? " There was this much 
 truth in the sarcasm, that if we compare the 
 members of these or any other denominations 
 with the standard of excellence set up by Christ, 
 we shall be compelled to acknowledge that some 
 fall sadly short of that standard, and that others 
 bear to it not the remotest resemblance. 
 
 To-day I wish to call your attention to a very 
 common, but a very fatal, misconception as to 
 what Christianity really is. The misconception 
 to which I refer consists in regarding Christ's 
 religion as a__creed to be ^believed rather than, 
 a life to be lived. Christianity, of course, like 
 every other religious system, does imply and re- 
 quire the acceptance of a creed. But it implies 
 
6 Defects of Modern CkHstianity. 
 
 and reqiiires infinitely more. Of two men who 
 believe, or believe that they believe, identically 
 the same creed, one may be a Christian and the 
 other a pagan. And yet the Christian life is 
 often represented as consisting simply in the 
 adoption of a certain belief. The scheme of sal- 
 vation has frequently been regarded as a device 
 (kindly meant on the part of G-od, perhaps, but 
 singularly ungodlike) — a device for making things 
 comfortable to us, for saving us m our sins, for 
 taking us to heaven with any amount of guilt 
 and pollution we may choose to carry there. 
 The man who has intellectually assented to the 
 proposition that Christ died for him, or at any 
 rate the man who has experienced some sort of 
 moral spasm, which is dignified with the name 
 of faith, — that man may dispense altogether with 
 any attempt at right conduct. For him all 
 good works are works of supererogation. He 
 may not, perhaps, be any the worse for a few 
 of them, but they are as unnecessary to his 
 salvation as proficiency in the fine arts. 
 
 It is seldom, however, believers in this doctrine 
 can be brought to admit that they really hold it. 
 When it is stated to them in plain English, 
 they generally say that they believe something 
 else. And no doubt there is a modified, and 
 
Radical Misconception. 7 
 
 less offensive, form of the belief, which is not 
 uncommonly adopted. Many persons, for in- 
 stance, put it in this way. They say that 
 Christ's first and chief purpose was to procure 
 our admittance into heaven ; but they admit 
 that He had also a subsidiary and less important 
 purpose — viz., to teach us to act rightly here. 
 Now this doctrine is precisely the reverse of that 
 which the Saviour taught. He was always re- 
 iterating to His disciples the truth that their con- 
 duct here was of paramount importance, since it 
 was that which would determine their condition 
 hereafter. The future reward or punishment He 
 represents as the direct consequence of conduct. 
 " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the king- 
 dom prepared for you : for I was an hungered, 
 and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave 
 me drink. — Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
 everlasting fire : for I was an hungered, and 
 ye gave me no meat : I was thirsty, and ye 
 gave me no drink." 
 
 In no religion is so much stress laid upon 
 right conduct, in none is so much right conduct 
 required, as in the religion of Christ. "He 
 tightened," says the author of ' Ecce Homo,' 
 "in an incredible degree all the obligations, of 
 morality. He rejected, as utterly insufficient, 
 
8 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 what had been regarded by the Jews as the 
 highest moral attainments. It is useless, He 
 said, to refrain from injuring your neighbour, 
 if, notwithstanding, you have the wish, the im- 
 pulse, to injure him. The movement of hatred 
 is, according to Christ, morally equivalent to a 
 murder. And even if you have no such im- 
 moral impulses, yet if your disposition towards 
 your fellow-creatures be purely negative, if you 
 are not actuated by an enthusiastic love and 
 benevolence towards all mankind, you are 
 morally good for nothing. Christ was not 
 content, like the earlier moralists, with prohi- 
 bitions, with condemning those who did wrong. 
 He condemns those who have not done good. 
 [The sinner whom Christ habitually denounces 
 is he who has ^one nothing. This character 
 comes repeatedly forward in His parables. It 
 is the priest and the Levite who pass by on 
 the other side. It is Dives, of whom no ill is 
 recorded, exqept that a beggar lay at his gates 
 unrelieved. It is the servant who hid in a 
 napkin the talent committed to him. It is the 
 unprofitable servant who has merely done what 
 it was his duty to do. And Christ not only 
 raised the standard of morality to the highest 
 possible point; but further. He insisted far 
 
Radical Misconception. 9 
 
 more vehemently than previous moralists had 
 done, upon the necessity of attaining the stand- 
 ard. He does not say — This is morality, hut, 
 as it is difficult of attainment, God will forgive 
 your shortcomings. On the contrary, He says 
 — To be moral in this high sense is life and 
 peace ; not to he so is death and eternal damna- 
 tion. " Every one that heareth these sayings 
 of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened 
 unto a foolish man, which built his house upon 
 the sand ; . . . and it fell ; and great was the 
 fall of it." 
 
 To say, then, that right-doing is unimportant 
 for the Christian, or of secondary importance, 
 is to give a flat contradiction to the words 
 of Christ. He has never been more horribly 
 blasphemed than by those professed disciples 
 who insinuate that His gospel is not a gospel 
 of right - doing. " The gospel," says Euskin, 
 " ' let His life rule your lives,' is eternally true | 
 and salutary. The gospel, ' let His life be I 
 instead of your lives,' is eternally false and 1 
 damnatory." Euskin is right. The one is the 
 gospel of Christ, the other is the gospel of the 
 devil. They are as opposite as light and dark- 
 ness; and yet, unhappily, the one is sometimes 
 mistaken for the other. It is an appalling fact 
 
lO Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 (unfortunately so common that we sometimes 
 forget its deadly significance) that a sermon 
 which aims at exhorting men to right-doing, 
 would be characterised by some professing Chris- 
 tians as not a Gospel sermon. Not a Gospel 
 sermon! Then Christ did not preach the Gos- 
 pel, did not even comprehend it. He must 
 have been sent into the world too soon. If 
 He had but enjoyed the advantage of listening 
 to these enlightened critics, they would have 
 instructed Him in the way of salvation ! In 
 the Sermon on the Mount, Christ -does not tell 
 His hearers that He is goiag to do everything 
 for them, and that they may sit still and take 
 their ease. No ! He gives His benediction to 
 those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. 
 " Except your righteousness," He warns them, 
 " shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and 
 Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the ' 
 kingdom of heaven." He exhorts them to let 
 their light shine, so that men may see their 
 good works. He commands them to avoid even 
 an angry thought, or an unkind word, or a 
 wanton look, and to be perfect even as their 
 Father in heaven. " Every tree," He assures 
 them, " which briugeth not forth good fruit, is 
 hewn down and cast into the fire." " Many 
 
Radical Misconception. 1 1 
 
 will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we 
 not prophesied in Thy name ? and in Thy name 
 have cast out devils ? and in Thy name done 
 many wonderful works ? And then will I pro- 
 fess unto them, I never knew you : depart from 
 me, ye that work iniquity." " Not every one 
 that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into 
 the kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the 
 will of my Father." ^ 
 
 1 See also the sermons on " The Gospel " and on " The Prac- 
 tical Nature of Christianity " in my ' Preaching and Hearing.' 
 
12 
 
 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 II. 
 
 WANT OF ENTHUSIASM. 
 
 " Whosoever he he of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, ' 
 he cannot be my disciple." — Luke xiv. 33. 
 
 rriHERE are many persons in the present day 
 ■*- who never manifest enthusiasm about any 
 thing. The vvil admirari theory of life, suggested 
 formerly by Horace, and reiterated by the love- 
 sick hero of Tennyson's ' Maud,' is one of the 
 gospels of the age. " Not bad " is about the 
 highest praise which some persons would think 
 it respectable to bestow. They consider enthu- 
 siasm to be a sign of under-breeding, or at any 
 rate of ignorance. They imagine it shows wis- 
 dom to seem bored, to appear " used up " in the 
 fruitless endeavour to discover something that 
 has anything in it. They remind one of the 
 
Want of Enthusiasm. 13 
 
 lady of whom Steele said that she was much too 
 " nice " to be quite alive. When the eccentric 
 leader of one of the new cliques in English 
 society tells us that there is nothing worth seeing 
 in Switzerland, and that he considers the Atlantic 
 a failure, he speaks not for himself alone, but 
 for a large class of which he is the representative, 
 and which forms his raison d'etre. Strong feeling, 
 energetic action, earnestness, zeal, devotion, self- 
 abandonment, all this is considered by many 
 quite unsuitable for the upper classes. Just as 
 Lord Chesterfield would have us never laugh, for 
 fear of distorting our countenances, so we are 
 often forbidden to be enthusiastic, for fear of 
 disturbing the calm dignity of a monotonous 
 existence. 
 
 In religion the absence of enthusiasm is 
 especially remarkable. There are, I fear, large 
 classes of men and women who call themselves 
 Christians, and who do not take the slightest 
 interest in the religion of Christ. They profess 
 Christianity merely because it is the correct 
 thing to profess it. A few years ago, just before 
 the mathematical tripos at Cambridge, a news- 
 paper reporter called to interview the man who 
 was expected to be senior, and asked him among 
 other things what was his religion. " Oh," said 
 
14 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 the mathematician, " you had better put me down 
 as an atheist." " But," urged the reporter, " that 
 will not sound well. May I not say that you 
 are of the same religion as your father ? " 
 "Certainly," he replied, "by all means. Call 
 me a member of the Church of England." There 
 are a great many persons who are members of 
 the Church of England on the same principle, 
 because they think it would not sound well to 
 be members of anything else. If Episcopalianism 
 became unfashionable, they would discard it as 
 ruthlessly as a worn-out garment. If religion 
 were to be blotted out of human life, they would 
 not miss it — or rather, they would agreeably 
 miss it. The tiresome social duty of going to 
 church would be at an end for them ; and they 
 would be saved a certain amount of expense — 
 viz., the guinea or two they pay for their seat, 
 and the threepenny-pieces they are obliged to 
 put into the bag. They much begrudge this 
 money ; but as things are, they feel that they 
 gain by the transaction. — And these people, who 
 are only dishonest pagans, have the audacity to 
 call themselves Christians ! 
 
 The common misrepresentation of Christianity, 
 to which I called your attention in the last ser- 
 mon, has tended to prevent men from recog- 
 
Want of Enthusiasm. 1 5 
 
 nising the extreme importance which attaches 
 to enthusiasm in the Christian system. If 
 Christ's religion consisted in the mere accept- 
 ance of a creed respecting future destiny, it 
 could never excite in us any strong or con- 
 tinued emotion. It would be easier to feel en- 
 thusiasm about the multiplication-table. That 
 does lie at the basis of our daily transactions. 
 But a future life, disconnected from the present, 
 could never permanently affect men's hearts. 
 The man for whom the only difference between 
 Christ and Mohammed amounts to this, that if 
 he believes in the one, he will be by-and-by, in 
 theological language, saved; and if he believes 
 in the other, he will be by-and-by lost, — such a 
 man can never believe in Christ at all, except 
 in a cold, matter-of-fact fashion which is the 
 very opposite of Christian faith. If Christ's 
 sole work is to take us to heaven, then we 
 shall be satisfied, naturally and justly satisfied, 
 with the smallest quantity of belief which will 
 suffice for that purpose. Those who regard the 
 plan of salvation as merely a device for escap- 
 ing hell, need not feel at all insulted if the 
 sarcastic language of Bailey's " Festus " is ap- 
 plied to them : — 
 
1 6 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 " Ye think ye never can be bad enough, 
 , And as ye sink in sin ye rise in hope. 
 ' And let the worst come to the worst, ye say. 
 
 There always wiU be time to turn ourselves 
 , And cry for half an hour or so to God. 
 
 Salvation sure is not so vety hard ; 
 
 It need not take one long ; and half an hour 
 
 Is quite as much as we can spare for it." 
 
 But Christ's religion is no mere creed about 
 the future. It is a life to be lived in the present. 
 And no life can be well lived without enthu- 
 siasm. Do you suppose you would succeed in 
 the army or at the bar if you were satisfied 
 with passively believing that they were a good 
 sort of institution — ^if you contented yourself with 
 appearing at certain stated times on parade or 
 in the law courts ? E"o indeed ! You cannot 
 be successful without hard study, strict disci- 
 pline, and persevering effort, through which 
 nothing but enthusiasm can carry you triumph- 
 antly. And if enthusiasm be necessary to live 
 worthily the life of a soldier or a barrister, stiU 
 more essential is it for him who would live the 
 life of a Christian. Nothing else can possibly 
 enable us to fulfil the requirements of Christ. 
 
 Let us see what these requirements originally 
 were, and let us inquire how far they are the 
 same for ourselves. To the young man who 
 asked what he must do to inherit eternal life, 
 
Want of Enthusiasm. 1 7 
 
 Christ replied that he must sell all that he had 
 and give the proceeds to the poor. Another 
 who professed himself ready to follow Christ, 
 but asked permission first to attend his father's 
 funeral, was curtly told to leave the dead to 
 bury their dead. And a third was informed 
 that if he really wished to become a disciple, 
 he must not even go back to bid his relations 
 farewell. " If any man come to me," said Christ, 
 " and hate not his father, and mother, and 
 wife and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, 
 and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. 
 
 . . Which of you, intending to build a 
 tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the 
 cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it ? 
 Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, 
 and is not able to finish it, all that behold it 
 begin to mock him, saying. This man began 
 to build, and was not able to finish. . . . 
 So likewise, whosoever he be of you that for- 
 saketh not aU that he hath, he cannot be my 
 disciple." 
 
 These are hard sayings. What are we to 
 understand by them? He could not possibly 
 have intended that they were to be always 
 literally obeyed. He could not possibly have 
 meant, for example, to ignore or deprecate the 
 
1 8 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 family affections as such. The very essence of 
 Christianity is to show love and kindliness to all 
 men. Christ could not, therefore, intend that 
 those who had the strongest claims upon us 
 should be treated with harshness and discourtesy. 
 What He wished to teach was, that the family 
 affections must be subordinate to the religious. 
 When a man could not be loyal to an earthly 
 love without being disloyal to Christ, then the 
 earthly love must be suppressed. This expla- 
 nation will help us, I think, to understand all 
 similar injunctions. Christ spoke vehemently 
 in order to startle men into attention. He 
 was determined to be followed only by enthu- 
 siasts — by men who were prepared, if need be, 
 to sacrifice everything for His sake. Commands 
 and exhortations, like those I have quoted, con- 
 stituted His winnowing-fan, with which He got 
 rid of half-hearted followers. At one time He 
 was enormously popular. It was when He was 
 being followed by a large multitude, that He 
 insisted on the necessity of their counting the 
 cost, before making any profession of disciple- 
 ship. No one, he intimated, need attempt to 
 follow Him who would be unwilling, if occasion 
 arose, to forsake all that he had. The true dis- 
 ciple must love his Master so much that, m 
 
Want of Enthusiasm. 19 
 
 comparison with this enthusiastic devotion, all 
 other affections would appear but as hatred. 
 
 But what is the significance for us of these 
 and similar words ? The Dean of St Paul's, in 
 his valuable lectures on the ' Gifts of Civilisa- 
 tion,' says that they meant more for those days 
 than for ours. I would rather prefer to put 
 it in this way: not that they meant more, but 
 that they were oftener susceptible of a literal 
 obedience. They seem to me only strong and 
 passionate modes of enjoining men to seek first 
 the kingdom of God; and this injunction is as 
 binding to-day as ever. Christ requires of His 
 followers now, as then, a willingness to give up 
 whatever clashes with His claims on them. The 
 only difference is, that formerly they had more 
 frequently to prove this willingness by the actual 
 forsaking of everything. To be a Christian then, 
 was to put one's self in opposition to society and 
 to the State. Christianity could only be pro- 
 cured a footing in the world by the fidelity, even 
 unto death, of large numbers of its early pro- 
 pagators. The call of Christ, which always 
 demands the same spirit of self-denial, involved 
 then as a rule severer actual sacrifices. His 
 religion would have died almost as soon as it 
 was born, but for the sufferings and martyrdoms 
 
20 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 of its evangelists, which proved its power by 
 showing what it was capable of helping men to 
 endure. " The blood of the martyrs is the 
 seed of the Church." Had His disciples been 
 destitute of enthusiasm the name of Jesus of 
 Nazareth would have been unknown to - day, 
 or known only to the curious student of Jew- 
 ish antiquities. At the present time. Chris- 
 tian missionaries are the only persons who 
 occupy the same kind of position as the early 
 disciples. Missionaries frequently have, in the 
 most literal sense, to forsake everything out of 
 regard for their work. We cannot, however, all 
 be missionaries. It is not desirable that we 
 should. And therefore the need is not likely to 
 arise in our case of forsaking everything for 
 Christ. But the need is certain to arise of 
 forsaking much. Nay, more, — Christ requires 
 even from us the willingness, if need he, to 
 forsake all. Unless we feel for Him an enthu- 
 siasm sufficient to give Him the first place in 
 our hearts, we cannot. He says, be His disciples, 
 and we have no business to make any profession 
 of Christianity. 
 
 And enthusiasm, which is thus requisite to 
 start us on the Christian career, is needed 
 throughout the whole of its course. For 
 
Want of Enthusiasm. 2 1 
 
 Christian morality is not merely negative, it is 
 positive in the -highest degree. You will see 
 better what I mean if you contrast Christianity 
 with Judaism. A man did not require enthu- 
 siasm to make him a good Jew. There was 
 enthusiasm, doubtless, among the psalmists and 
 prophets, among the wiser and nobler members 
 of the nation, as there always is among the good 
 and great. But this was not necessary to make 
 them Judaically religious. The requirements of 
 Judaism were few and simple : they consisted 
 merely in abstaining from certain clearly defined 
 sins, and offering certain clearly defined sacrifices. 
 But Christ's redeeming work is something very 
 different. It consisted in the creation within 
 His disciples of a passionate devotedness to the 
 welfare of their fellow-men.'' The ideal Jew is 
 the man who never injures his neighbours. The 
 ideal Christian is the man who is always doing 
 them good. And for this, what but enthusiasm 
 can suffice ? It would be easier for an imbecile 
 to become a philosopher, than for a cold-hearted 
 man to live the Christian life. " If," says the 
 author of ' Ecce Homo,' " there sometimes appear 
 in the history of the Church instances of a tone 
 which is pure and high without being enthusi- 
 1 See sermon on Redemption. 
 
22 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 astic, it will probably be found that all that is 
 respectable in such a mood is but the slowly 
 subsiding movement of an earlier enthusiasm, 
 and all that is produced by the lukewarmness 
 itself is hypocrisy and corrupt conventionalism. 
 Christianity is an enthusiasm, or it is nothing." 
 It behoves us, therefore, to ask ourselves. Does 
 Christ stand first in our affections ? Are we 
 enthusiastically endeavouring to live the Chris- 
 tian life ? Are we, for example, more anxious 
 about the Christ-likeness of our character than 
 we are about our dividends or about our per- 
 sonal appearance ? You remember some lines 
 of Manrique's, which have been translated by 
 Xongfellow : — 
 
 " Could we new charms to age impart, 
 And fashion with a cunning art 
 
 The human face, 
 As we can clothe the soul with light, 
 And make the glorious spirit hright, 
 
 With heavenly grace, — 
 
 How busily each passing hour 
 Should we exert that magic power ! 
 What ardour show ! 
 
 Yet leave the free-bom soul within 
 In weeds of woe. " 
 
 Should we ? God forbid ! 
 
23 
 
 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 III. 
 
 MISDIRECTED ENTHUSIASM. 
 
 "The Samaritans did not receive Him, 'beoause His face was as 
 though He would go to Jerusalem. And when His disciples 
 James and John saw this, they said, Lord, wilt Thou that we 
 command Are to come down from heaven, and consume them, 
 even as Elias did ? But He turned and rebuked them, and said, 
 Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. " — Luke ix. 53-55. 
 
 TN the last sermon, I drew your attention to 
 the want of enthusiasm, which is too often 
 apparent in modern Christianity. Now let me 
 ask you to consider the misdirected enthusiasm 
 which frequently characterises it. The next 
 worst thing to being destitute of enthusiasm 
 altogether, is to expend it on the wrong ob- 
 jects. 
 
 The words I have read as a text afford a very 
 suggestive example of my subject. " Shall we 
 
24 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 command fire to come down from heaven, and 
 consume them?" Here was enthusiasm, and 
 enthusiasm for Christ; but it was expending 
 itself in unchristian, and even anti- Christian, 
 channels. '' He turned and rebuked them, and 
 said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are 
 of." Ye think that ye are Christians, but as 
 yet ye are not. Ye do not even know why I 
 am come into the world. " The Son of man is 
 not come to destroy men's lives, but to save 
 them." 
 
 We are constantly meeting in our everyday 
 experience with instances of misdirected enthu- 
 siasm. For example, there are persons who will 
 shed floods of tears over the imaginary griefs 
 depicted in a novel or on the stage, who are hard- 
 ness itself to the real sufferings around them in 
 actual life. Their entire stock of sympathy is 
 expended on fictitious objects. They have none 
 left for practical life. There are persons, again, 
 who feel the greatest interest in morality, — but 
 unfortunately it is in the morality of other 
 people. They never tire of pointing out defects 
 in their neighbours' characters, but they take no 
 pains to discover any in their own. And there 
 are others who waste all their enthusiasm upon 
 trifles. A great national calamity fails to move 
 
Misdirected Enthusiasm. 2 5 
 
 them ; but if anybody utters a syllable derogatory 
 to their own personal dignity, they are beside 
 themselves with excitement. 
 
 Now, in every case in which enthusiasm is mis- 
 directed, it is worse than wasted. For its expen- 
 diture in the wrong direction necessarily involves 
 its absence in the right. If it is wasted upon 
 trifles, there will be none left to bestow upon 
 matters of real importance. Like all the other 
 forces with which our nature has been endowed, 
 our power of enthusiasm is a strictly limited 
 quantity. It may be diminished by careless- 
 ness ; it may be increased by care ; but it is at 
 the best incapable of anything approaching to 
 indefinite expansion. How important, then, that 
 it be always wisely and justly bestowed ! The 
 very meaning of the word suggests that enthu- 
 siasm should not be given to anything and every- 
 thing, but that it demands a worthy object. It 
 signifies, etymologicaUy, to be full of the Deity 
 — to be, as we say, inspired. The term " enthu- 
 siasm " has been used, I know, by Locke, Isaac 
 Taylor and others, in a bad sense — for the 
 working of a diseased imagination, or for the 
 stupidity of an unreasoning prejudice. But in 
 modern English and in common speech, we sig- 
 nify by enthusiasm the taking a deep and ardent 
 
26 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 interest ia any object or pursuit. And truly 
 there is no power possessed by man so deserving 
 of being called divine, as the power of becoming 
 in this sense enthusiastic. Without it, as I 
 pointed out in the last sermon, no life can be 
 successful. With it, if duly applied, no life can 
 be altogether a failure. But alas for the man 
 who wastes the inspiration, which he needs to 
 bring him triumphantly through the great 
 struggles and conflicts of his career ! 
 
 There are three cases, it seems to me, in 
 which the enthusiasm of Christians — many of 
 them good and earnest Christians — has been 
 misdirected; I refer to what may be called 
 the Puritanical, the Theological, and the Eitual- 
 istic enthusiasms. 
 
 By the Puritanical enthusiasm, I mean the 
 giving up and anathematising certain practices 
 and amusements, not on the ground that they 
 are wrong, but on' the ground that they are 
 " worldly." This is the result of a mistake 
 regarding a passage in St John's Epistle. " If 
 any man love the world," he says, " the love of 
 the Father is not in him." Now it is often 
 forgotten that, in the very same Epistle, " the 
 world " is defined as " that which lieth in 
 wickedness." Nothing, then, can be legitimately 
 
Misdirected Enthusiasm. 2 7 
 
 called worldly, in the bad sense of the term, 
 merely because it is fashionable or common. 
 It is as absurd to suppose that everything 
 fashionable is bad, as it would be to suppose 
 that everything unfashionable is good. The 
 Bible has nothing to say against the world except 
 in so far as it is wicked. "I pray not," said 
 our Lord, " that Thou shouldest take them out 
 of the world, but that Thou shouldest keep 
 them from the evil." So that the worldliness 
 which is to be avoided by the Christian, is only 
 another name for evil. Much mischief has 
 arisen from supposing that it was something 
 else. Classing together things which differ, 
 always leads to great confusion, and in moral 
 matters often ends in great sins. To believe in 
 the wickedness of what is essentially harmless 
 is to make a most fatal mistake. Those who 
 exhaust their enthusiasm in hating what is not 
 wrong, will have little — if any — left for hating 
 what is. There are persons who think it more 
 wrong to play a game of chance than to do a 
 mean or ungenerous action. They must not 
 be surprised at the accusation urged against them 
 by Butler in his ' Hudibras ' : — 
 
 " They compov/nd for sins they are inclined to, 
 By damning those they have no mind to.'' 
 
28 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 And even less extreme cases of misdirected 
 enthusiasm will have a very injurious efifect 
 upon the young. If they are taught that it is 
 wi'ong to break the Commandments, wnd that it 
 is wrong to play at certain harmless games, what 
 is the result ? Why, this : when they come to 
 discover that the games an harmless, and cannot 
 therefore be sinful, they begin to doubt whether 
 the importance of the Commandments has not 
 been equally overrated. Their notions about 
 right and wrong become hopelessly disturbed, 
 and not unfrequently they end in believing that 
 there is nothing wrong in anything. I have 
 known cases — ^you have known cases — where 
 young lives have been shipwrecked by the 
 severity of their puritanical training. The 
 parents thought they were driving their children 
 to heaven, when all the time they were really 
 driving them in the opposite direction. Enthu- 
 siasm — like some powerful physical force — if 
 it be exercised at random, is dangerous in pro- 
 portion to its strength. 
 
 Then, secondly, there is what may be called 
 the Theological waste of enthusiasm — manifested 
 by persons who bestow on theology an amount of 
 ardour which ought only to be given to religion. 
 Theology and religion are sometimes supposed to 
 
Misdirected Enthusiasm. 29 
 
 be one and the same thing; but there are no 
 two things in the universe more different. The- 
 ology is a collection of facts, or supposed facts, 
 scientifically arranged and formulated. Eeligion 
 is a state of heart and a mode of life. A the- k 
 ologian is not necessarily religious, any more 
 than a physiologist or an astronomer. There is 
 no more connection between the knowledge of 
 theology and the practice of religion, than be- 
 tween the knowledge of geography and the pos- 
 session of a landed estate. Theology, at best, is 
 but theory. Indeed it has not unfrequently 
 happened that those whose business it has been 
 to teach the theory, have been in their lives 
 conspicuously unchristian. The theologians have 
 disagreed, and terrible has been the hatred, 
 grievous has been the bloodshed, that have fol- 
 lowed their disagreement. Instead of letting 
 their enthusiasm go forth in the direction of 
 doing aU possible good to all men, they have 
 too often wasted it in seeking to do all possible 
 harm to those who hold different opinions from 
 themselves. You remember the scene in ' Bleak 
 House,' where poor Jo is dying. He is asked if 
 he ever knew a prayer, to which he gives his 
 usual answer that he " never knowed nothink." 
 And then he goes on to explain that city mis- 
 
30 Defects of Modern Christianity, 
 
 sionaries had often come into the wretched alley 
 where he lodged, but that they had been mostly 
 occupied in pointing out each other's errors to 
 their benighted congregations. " Different times," 
 he said, " there was genelmen come down Tom- 
 All- Alone's a-prayin', but they all mostly said as 
 t'other ones prayed wrong." Alas ! alas ! how 
 often the devil's purposes are effected in the 
 Saviour's name ! Our world would be infinitely 
 better than it is if but a tithe of the enthusiasm, 
 now expended on theology, were devoted to the 
 task of living a religious life. Men are so busy 
 shouting their party shibboleths, which Christ 
 once and for ever condemned, that they have 
 neither time nor heart to do the one sole work 
 which He intrusted to their hands. They have 
 been so anxious to be orthodox that they have 
 forgotten to be good. 
 
 And once more, there is, as it seems to me, a 
 Eitualistic waste of enthusiasm. I have nothing 
 to say against ceremonies and vestments as such. 
 Personally I do not care to see them multiplied ; 
 but that, of course, is no argument against them. 
 What I do very strongly deprecate, however, is 
 that so much enthusiasm should be expended on 
 these matters. They have simply nothing to do 
 with Christianity as Christ understood it. There 
 
Misdirected Enthusiasm. 3 1 
 
 is a pious sound about the word " vestment " ; 
 but, after all, it is only the Latin equivalent for 
 what, in common speech, we call clothes. Just 
 try and imagine, if you can, Christ delivering a 
 discourse, or the apostles engaged in a discussion, 
 as to the garments in which they should proceed 
 to convert the world. And yet the question of 
 clothes has destroyed the unity of the English 
 Church. 
 
 I shall be told, of course, that the Eitualists 
 are not fighting merely ^r vestments, but for 
 principles. It was ingeniously suggested, some 
 time ago, that they were in reality carrying 
 on the designs of the Eeformation, inasmuch as 
 they were fighting for freedom — freedom against 
 the tyranny of the bishops and the State. Very 
 well. But even so, I ask, is it worth while ? 
 This alleged tyranny is only exercised in regard 
 to what Christ at any rate would have considered 
 minor matters. 
 
 I admit, of course, that at present there is a 
 discrepancy between the Prayer-book and Lord 
 Penzance, which common-sense demands that we 
 should annul. What is called the " ornaments 
 rubric" says that officiating clergymen are to 
 wear the vestments worn in the reign of Edward 
 the Sixth. These are the very vestments which 
 
32 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 the unfortunate Eitualists are prosecuted for 
 wearing. Lord Penzance has decided — on what 
 grounds I do not know — that this rubric is no 
 longer legal. Now no one can suppose that 
 either the rubric or Lord Penzance is divinely 
 inspired. Therefore, since we cannot obey both, 
 why should we not obey whichever will lead to 
 peace ? You say this is mean. I say it is not. 
 The rubric, you observe, is called the orTiaments 
 rubric. To seek peace by discarding ornaments 
 is not mean. To seek war by retaining orna- 
 ments is not noble. If a particular vestment 
 be distasteful to my parishioners, — why, in the 
 name of peace and quietness, can I not be con- 
 tent without it ? " If it make my brother to 
 offend, I will not wear it while the world 
 standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." 
 
 But there is another side to this question. 
 While I cannot understand the ritualistic en- 
 thusiasm for vestments, still less can I under- 
 stand the anti- ritualistic enthusiasm against 
 them. There cannot be anything more un- 
 christian in a berretta than in a college-cap. 
 Why, then, while the one is considered harm- 
 less, should the other be subjected to such fierce 
 hatred ? The stole is an illegal vestment ; and 
 yet you find it even in churches where the 
 
Misdirected Enthusiasm. 33 
 
 sermon is preached in a black gown. I am 
 wearing one at this moment. It never seems 
 to . excite anybody's ire ; and yet the sight of 
 some equsjlly innocent ecclesiastical garment will 
 rouse many Churchmen to fury. The enthusi- 
 asm expended by the Church Association and 
 its friends, in hunting up or creating aggrieved 
 parishioners, and otherwise persecuting the 
 Eitualists — all such enthusiasm seems to me 
 even more misplaced than that of the Eitualists 
 themselves. In some recent prosecutions, the 
 vestments worn by the clergymen were not dis- 
 tasteful to his congregation. Yet meddlesome 
 outsiders must step in, persuade three parish- 
 ioners to declare themselves aggrieved, and so 
 try to get the pastor removed from people who 
 were devoted to him. Surely this is the very 
 prostitution of enthusiasm. 
 
 I have been obliged this morning to tread on 
 delicate ground. You may not all agree with 
 me. But that is a matter of small importance. 
 I am not here to give you opinions. You are 
 not here to receive opinions from me. We are 
 met rather, I take it, to think things over to- 
 gether. And even if, in the end, we must agree 
 to differ, it does not necessarily follow that our 
 thinking will have been in vain. The import- 
 e 
 
34 Defects of Modern Chnsttanity. 
 
 ant thing for you and for me, is to do our best 
 to discover Christ's idea of Christianity, and 
 to let our enthusiasm go forth into the same 
 channels in which His was wont to flow. If 
 this be our earnest and constant endeavour, 
 then, although we may sometimes make mis- 
 takes, although we may, like the Boanerges, 
 incur the rebuke, " Ye know not what manner 
 of spirit ye are of," it wUl be a gemile rebuke — 
 one of pity rather than of condemnation. 
 
35 
 
 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 IV. 
 
 WANT OF PEOGRESS (I.) 
 
 " I have yet many things to say unto you, hut' ye cannot hear 
 them now. Howbeit when He, the Spirit of truth, is come. 
 He will guide you into all truth."— John xvi. 12, 13. 
 
 "He that helieveth on me, the works that I do shall he do also ; 
 and greater works than these shall he do." — John zir. 12. 
 
 TVWAEFS — that is to say, people who- have 
 ^ never grown — are much more common in 
 the moral than in the physical sphere. To be a 
 dwarf is with some the very ideal of moral per- 
 fection. The notion of progress is repugnant to 
 them. It reminds them of earthquakes, and 
 revolutions, and everything that is disagreeable. 
 Happiness and monotony are, in their estimation, 
 synonyms. They are content to be everlastingly 
 thinking the same thoughts, reading the same 
 books, and engaged in the same pursuits, which 
 
36 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 they have been accustomed to think and read 
 and engage in as long as they can remember. 
 They live in a state of the most perfect com- 
 placency regarding themselves and their ances- 
 tors. There could not, they believe, be wiser or 
 better people ; and consequently they consider it 
 impossible to improve on the institutions and 
 modes of life and forms of thought which have 
 been patronised, and are still being patronised, 
 by such worthy gentlemen. If one attempts to 
 point out to them defects in anything they have 
 adopted, from theology down to sanitary arrange- 
 ments, they have one invariable reply — -that what 
 was good enough for their forefathers is good 
 enough for them. There, perhaps, they are 
 right. For such people it is probably too good. 
 Even if they could be brought to see that any 
 improvement was theoretically desirable, nothing 
 would ever induce them to effect it. Change 
 is so fatiguing. The game, they fancy, would 
 not be worth the candle. They would rather 
 dite under bad arrangements of their ancestors, 
 than live under improved arrangements of their 
 own. 
 
 To such persons the idea of progress in re- 
 ligious matters is peculiarly abhorrent. They 
 justify their spiritual stagnation by asserting that 
 
JVani of Progress. 3 7 
 
 progress in religion is tantamount to scepticism, 
 irreverence, and what not. The people who never 
 think always have a pious horror of those who 
 do. The human mind they seem to regard as 
 an invention of the devil's, for they take special 
 pride in living as if they did not possess one. 
 Their conception of the Christian religion is, that 
 it consists in the blind acceptance of some, one, 
 else's creed. When they have accomplished this 
 feat, they imagine themselves relieved from all 
 further responsibility. They will have no deeper 
 insight into Christianity at sixty years of age 
 than they had at six. But they do not want 
 it. They have a pleasing assurance that when 
 they learnt the Catechism they mastered Truth. 
 The portion of their creed which they most 
 thoroughly comprehend and value is the doctrine 
 that Christ did everything. From this they 
 proceed to draw the comforting coroUary that 
 they need do nothing; and to give them their 
 due, they act up to this corollary with marvellous 
 consistency. 
 
 Now this state of spiritual coma, which dares 
 to call itself Christianity, is the very opposite of 
 the religion of Christ. Our Lord's belief in 
 progress is strikingly illustrated by His treatment 
 of the Bible. He acknowledged the inspiration 
 
38 Defects of Modern Chrishamty. 
 
 of the Scriptures. " He always spoke of them," 
 says the author of ' Ecce Homo/ " with the utmost 
 reverence, and He seems never to have called 
 in question the Jewish idea that they were the 
 infallible oracles of God. Yet He regarded them 
 in a sense critically, and introduced canons of 
 interpretation which by their boldness must 
 have astonished the religious men of the day. 
 He regarded the laws of Moses, though divine, 
 as capable of becoming obsolete, and also as 
 incomplete. On the question of divorce, He de- 
 clared the Mosaic arrangement to have been 
 well suited to the hard-heartedness of a semi- 
 barbarous age, but to be no longer justifiable in 
 the advanced condition of morals. So too in 
 the matter of oaths, the permission of private 
 revenge, and other points in which the Mosaic 
 legislation had necessarily something of a bar- 
 baric character, He unhesitatingly repealed the 
 acts of the lawgiver and introduced new pro- 
 visions. But not only did He find the Mosaic 
 code in part obsolete ; He found it throughout 
 utterly meagre and imperfect. And this was 
 inevitable. Between. thie rude clans that had 
 listened to Moses in the Arabian desert, and the 
 Jews who in the reign of Tiberius visited the 
 Temple courts, there was a great gulf. The 
 
Want of Progress. 39 
 
 hard-heartedness of the primitive nation had 
 given way under the gradual influence of law, 
 and peace, and trade, and literature. Laws 
 which in the earlier time the hest men had 
 probably found it hard to keep, could now serve 
 only as a curb upon the worst. The disciples 
 of Moses were subject to lawless passions which 
 they could not control, and the fiercest ebulli- 
 tions of which seemed to them venial misfortunes 
 rather than crimes. Self-restraint of any kind 
 was to them a new and hard lesson. They 
 listened with awe to the inspired teacher who 
 told them not to covet their neighbour's wife or 
 property ; and when they were commanded not 
 to murder, they wondered doubtless by what 
 art or contrivance it might be possible to put 
 a bridle on the thing called anger. But how 
 much all this was afterwards changed ! If one 
 like Paul had gone to a Christian teacher, after 
 the new enthusiasm of humanity had been ex- 
 cited in him, and asked for instruction in moral- 
 ity, would it have satisfied him to be told that 
 he must abstain from committing murder and 
 robbery ? These laws, to be sure, were not 
 obsolete (like those about divorce and revenge), 
 but the better class of men had been raised to 
 an elevation of goodness, at which they were 
 
40 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 absolutely unassailable by temptations to break 
 them. Their moral sense required a different 
 training-^far more advanced instruction." 
 
 Now Christ expressly and plainly declared He 
 was labouring under the same kind of disadvan- 
 tage as Moses, and that therefore His own teaching 
 must also be limited and elementary. " I have 
 yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot 
 bear them now." The Jews had made great 
 moral advances since the days of Sinai, but they 
 were still incapable of comprehending the deepest 
 truths of Christianity. They were not, however, 
 always to remain in the intellectual and moral 
 condition in which Christ found them. He 
 seemed able to do but little for them during 
 His lifetime. But He Himself declared that 
 their progress was to continue long after He had 
 passed away. He promised them the inspiration 
 of the Spirit of God to carry them forward, far 
 beyond the point to which He Himself was able 
 to lead them. "When the Spirit of truth is 
 come," Christ said to them, "He will guide 
 you into all truth." The same idea of the 
 progressiveness of Christianity is even more 
 strikingly suggested by the second part of our 
 text. " He that believeth on me, the works 
 that I do shall he do also; and greater works 
 
Want of Progress. 4 1 
 
 than these shall he do." Mark you, Christ 
 asserts this not only of those immediately 
 around them, hut of every one who should 
 hereafter become a disciple. The expression is 
 perfectly general, — " he that believeth on me." 
 This assertion of our Lord's may sound some- 
 what startling, and yet it was but the simple 
 truth. The explanation of it was given by 
 Christ Himself. " Greater works than these shall 
 he do ; because I go unto my Father." Christ 
 had to die before it was possible for the mighty 
 achievements to be accomplished, which Chris- 
 tianity was ultimately destined to effect. Just 
 think how little Christ was able to make of His 
 disciples while He was alive. They were always 
 misunderstanding Him and His work : wanting 
 to call down fire from heaven ; wanting Him to 
 declare Himself king of the Jews ; wanting to 
 sit on His right hand and on His left hand in 
 His kingdom ; wanting Him to show them the 
 Father — to make God visible to their bodily 
 eyes; wanting to censure a man for doing good, 
 because, as they put it, " he foUoweth not us "; 
 wanting their Master to live and not to die, 
 when life would have meant the most igno- 
 minious failure and death was the sublimest 
 victory ; wanting Him to do, and wanting to do 
 
42 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 themselves, anything and everything that was 
 incompatible with His great plan. This was how 
 they- treated Him until the end. When that 
 canie, they all forsook Him and fled. And these 
 were the most devoted of Christ's followers. No 
 wonder, then, that He said, " He that believeth 
 on me, the works that I do shall he do also ; 
 and greater works than these shall he do." 
 There are in the world to-day a vast number of 
 men and women — the converts, it may be, of 
 very mediocre teaching and preaching — who 
 understand Christianity far more clearly, and 
 work for it far more wisely, than did the best 
 of the disciples during the lifetime of the 
 Saviour. 
 
 Let me entreat you to ponder over the fact 
 that Christ, as plainly as words can do it, has 
 declared progress to be an essential element in 
 His system. Both by precept and example He 
 condemned the worship of the -past, — that most 
 foolish and pestilent of aU idolatries. 
 
 To any one who thinks at all it is a self- 
 evident truth that as the world grows older it 
 must, or at any rate it ought, to grow wiser. 
 But, curiously enough, the converse has . been 
 more generally assumed as axiomatic, viz., that 
 it was wisest — as wise as it could be — in its 
 
Want of Progress. 43 
 
 childhood. If men had held this creed at the 
 beginning, they would never have emerged from 
 their primeval barbarism, If the primitive 
 savage had thought himself omniscient, the world 
 would have been even now uncivilised. But sav- 
 age though he was he knew a good deal better 
 than that. And as time goes on and men grow 
 reaUy wiser, they become more and more dis- 
 satisfied with their present achievements. Out 
 ancestors tried like freemen to make advances 
 upon their ancestors. Alas for the heritage they 
 have bequeathed us, if we have been transformed 
 thereby into slaves ! 
 
 In physical science we do not hesitate to 
 assert our own rights. Th&re we demand the 
 liberty of making progress. And why should 
 we not do so in theology? If any one supposes 
 that inspiration makes a difference and renders 
 progress impossible, I reply that it does make 
 a difference, but that it renders progress imper- 
 ative. The greater the inspiration which is 
 claimed for the Scriptures, the greater becomes 
 the opportunity and necessity for progress in 
 the study of them. If they are really worthy 
 of being called divine, it is not surely to be 
 imagined that their full significance for all time 
 will be discovered on a single careless reading. 
 
44 Defects of Modern Chnstiamty. 
 
 Men can only see in the Bible, as in any other 
 book, what they bring with them the power of 
 seeing; and their faculty of spiritual vision 
 should be continually gaining strength. But, 
 for some unaccountable reason, this faculty is 
 frequently supposed to have been steadily dete- 
 riorating, since the time of what are technically 
 called the Fathers. There are many persons 
 who have the greatest contempt for modern 
 theology — who believe, in fact, that all theology, 
 properly so called, must be of necessity ancient. 
 Any one who expresses an original opinion is at 
 once extinguished by them with the assertion 
 that he is no theologian. They imagine that 
 the farther they go back, the more likely they 
 are to get at the mind of Christ — always pro- 
 vided that they do not go quite to His own 
 words, but stop at the interpretation put upon 
 them by some primitive expositor. Of all curious 
 delusions this is perhaps the most singular. In 
 the spiritual world, as in the natural, every age 
 should make new discoveries — discoveries which 
 may, or may not, be inconsistent with the older 
 views, but which in aU cases amount to a 
 fuller, clearer, deeper insight into the truth of 
 God. 
 
 " Fresh notions," says Walter Savage Landor, 
 
Want of Progress. 45 
 
 " are as disagreeable to some as fresh air is to 
 others ; but the inability to bear them is equally 
 a symptom of disease." The healthy mind is not 
 concerned with the oldness or newness of a doc- 
 trine, but simply and solely with its truth. We 
 owe a debt of gratitude to all the thinkers of 
 the past. But we do not compliment them, we 
 insult them, by acquiescing in their ideas as 
 final. This you may say is quite self-evident. 
 "What is the good of insisting on it at such 
 length ? I have insisted on it for this reason : 
 it is not every one who sees its applicability to 
 spiritual truth. Many who admit we are under 
 no obligation to square our opinions with those 
 of Aristotle, hesitate to apply the same rule to 
 St Augustine. And therefore I ask once more, 
 if we make progress in our study of nature, 
 shall we make no progress in our study of God ? 
 Year after year we learn to know something 
 more of the material world beneath us ; and 
 shall we be content with what we already- know, 
 or think we know,, of the Divine Spirit above 
 us ? If any one says that theology should not 
 be progressive, that it is a perfected science and 
 must therefore be stationary, he is guilty, how- 
 ever unintentionally, of the grossest blasphemy. 
 For he virtually asserts that God is the one 
 
46 Defects of Modern ChrisHanity. 
 
 Being in the universe who can be easily and 
 completely fathomed.^ 
 
 " Do not orouch to-day and worship 
 The old Past, whose life is fled ; 
 Hush your voice to tender reverence — 
 Crowned he lies, but cold and dead. 
 
 For the Present reigns our monarch, 
 
 With an added weight of hours ; 
 Honour her, for she is mighty — 
 
 Honour her, for she is ours. 
 
 She inherits all his treasures. 
 
 She is heir to all his fame, 
 And the light that lightens round her 
 
 Is the lustre of his name. 
 
 She is wise with all his wisdom ; 
 
 Living on his grave she stands ; 
 On her brow she wears his laurels, 
 
 And his harvest in her hands. 
 
 Noble things the great Past promised. 
 Holy dreams both strange and new ; 
 
 But the Present shall fulfil them : 
 What he promised she shall do." 
 
 ^ See also sermons on "Truth "and "Kight Thinking" in 
 my 'Origin of EvU'; sermons on "Bigotry," and paper on 
 " Dogma and Philosophy " in my ' Preaching and Hearing.' 
 
47 
 
 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 V. 
 
 WANT OF PEOGRESS (ll.) 
 
 " I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear 
 them now. Howbeit when He, the Spirit of truth, is come, 
 He will guide you into all truth." — John xvi. 12, 13. 
 
 "He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also ; 
 and greater works than these shall he do." — John xiv. 12. 
 
 TI^E have seen already how strikingly these 
 passages illustrate the fact that progress 
 is an essential feature of the Christian, religion. 
 In the last sermon, I spoke about progress in 
 knowledge. I pointed out the absurdity of sup- 
 posing that either we or our ancestors knew all 
 that was to be known about God and His truth. 
 Even in nature men are always making fresh 
 discoveries. And if, as we believe, the Bible is 
 a yet higher revelation, it is simply impossible 
 that its significance can have been completely 
 fathomed. 
 
48 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 But growth in knowledge is not the only 
 development which vital Christianity will dis- 
 play. Freshness of ideas is good, but it is not 
 everything. There should be a corresponding 
 advance in wisdom — wisdom being applied know- 
 ledge, or knowledge put into practice. The 
 practical habits and modes of action of Christians 
 in the nineteenth century, instead of being far 
 behind, as is too frequently the case, should be 
 far in advance of those which belonged to 
 Christians in the first century. 
 
 No religion is capable of undergoing such 
 changes as Christianity, which is proved by 
 those which it has already actually undergone. 
 Since the Saviour's time, it has been subjected to 
 one transformation at any rate so thorough and 
 complete, that a superficial observer might fancy 
 it had been altogether destroyed. This change 
 is due to the fact that formerly Christ's Gospel 
 was opposed, whereas now it is supported, by 
 the State ; formerly it was despised by the 
 upper classes in society, whereas now it has 
 become a recognised part of the social system. 
 Nearly all Christ's precepts and exhortations 
 were given to men who were about to live in 
 the midst of hardship, penury and persecution, 
 with the possible climax of a martyr's death. 
 
Want of Progress. 49 
 
 Yet to-day it is only in very exceptional cases 
 that any of these sufferings are experienced by 
 the followers of Jesus in virtue of their disciple- 
 ship. Nearly everything that Christ said was 
 uttered on the supposition, that those to whom 
 He spoke would have to give up all connection 
 with the world — all interest in its commerce, 
 its professions, its amusements, and its various 
 pursuits. But you, who profess and call your- 
 selves Christians, do not so understand your 
 Christian duty. 
 
 There is, of course, a ridiculous sense in which 
 the term " world " is sometimes used, as repre- 
 senting some half-dozen amusements for which 
 the persons who abuse them do not happen to 
 care, and which, on this account, they imagine 
 must be pre-eminently sinful. But of the world, 
 in that sense, the Bible says nothing. St John 
 uses the term as a synonym for wickedness, and 
 in this sense his commandment applies to all 
 nations and to all times. " The world which 
 lieth in wickedness," the world as far as it is 
 wicked, the, sin of the world, we are bound as 
 Christians to hate. 
 
 As regards the world in the ordinary sense of 
 the term, according to which it stands for human 
 life with its varied interests and pursuits, there 
 D 
 
50 Defects of Modem Christianity. 
 
 is an enormous difference between our position 
 and that of the first disciples. By them these 
 interests and pursuits had to be given up, by us 
 they have not. You all believe this. At least 
 you all act as if you did. You do not give up 
 the common interests of life. You are engaged 
 during the week in purely secular pursuits ; you 
 pay calls and give parties ; you eat and drink 
 and pass your time, pretty much in the main as 
 other persons do who make no profession of 
 Christianity. But not so the early disciples. 
 Such a state of things was then impossible. 
 At first a profession of Christianity was abso- 
 lutely incompatible with a comfortable or even 
 tolerable life. And this arose not so much from 
 anything peculiar in Christianity, as from the 
 peculiar opposition with which it met. While 
 this opposition lasted the profession of Chris- 
 tianity inevitably entailed physical disaster and 
 social ruin. 
 
 But it was not desirable that this state of 
 things should last for ever. On the contrary, 
 the full benefits of Christianity could only come 
 to men after the opposition had passed away. 
 Christ said nothing to His disciples about their 
 participating in the world's occupations and pur- 
 suits; and yet this participation, since it has 
 
Wani of Progress, 5 \ 
 
 proved itself legitimately practicable, is mani- 
 festly an advance upon the isolation .of the early 
 Church. It would not surely he' for the.good of 
 the human race, that Christianity should always 
 be in antagonism to civil law and to the refined 
 and cultured classes. Manifestly it ;must be 
 better for it to acquire, as it has actually done, 
 an influence in the State and in society, that 
 thereby the State and society may be regenerated. 
 It came into collision with them 'in tlie first in- 
 stance, not for the sake of collision, but^ for the 
 sake of ultimate harmony. " Society,'' says Dean 
 Oharch, " as weU as religion, is God's creation 
 and' work. If we have anything to guide us as 
 to God's wiU in the facts of the world, if we see 
 His providence in the tendencies and conditions 
 amid which we live, and feel that in them He is 
 our teacher and interpreter, — we must believe 
 social order, with its laws, its necessary inci- 
 dents and pursuits, is God's will for this pres- 
 ent life. He meant us to live in the world ; and 
 for the world, what we call society — the rule of 
 law, the employment of business, the increase 
 of wealth, the embodiment of public force and 
 power, the cultivation of our infinite resources, 
 the continued improvement of social arrange- 
 ments — all this is indispensable. There is no 
 
52 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 standing still in these matters; the only otter 
 alternative is drifting back into confusion and 
 violence. If the necessities of our condition, 
 with all the light thrown upon them by long 
 experience, are no evidence of God's purposes, 
 we are indeed in darkness; if they are, it is 
 plain that man, both the individual and the race, 
 has a career here — that he has been furnished 
 for it, I need not say how amply, and was meant 
 to fulfil it." In spite of the early collisions be-' 
 tween society and the Gospel, it soon became 
 evident that there was nothing necessarily antag- 
 onistic between them, and at the same time it 
 appeared that Christianity was intended for a 
 wider purpose than had been disclosed at first. 
 " Even war and riches, even the Babel life of 
 our great cities, even the high places of ambition 
 and earthly honour, have been touched by Christ's 
 spirit, have found how to become Christian." 
 And Christianity has been transformed, no less 
 than society, by this change in their mutual 
 relations — ^transformed, not indeed in its essen- 
 tial character of self-denial, but in the manner 
 in which this self-denial is manifested. Thank 
 God, there are other, and in some respects higher, 
 ways in which self-denial may be exhibited than 
 by martyrdom. 
 
Wani of Progress, 5 3 
 
 But now that physical suffering has ceased to 
 be the necessary concomitant of the profession of 
 Christianity, the outward aspects of that religion 
 have assumed a totally different form. And so 
 remarkable a change, the occurrence of which 
 cannot possibly be denied, should lead us to 
 expect other important modifications and develop- 
 ments. Doubtless as time goes on there must 
 be many such. 
 
 In one sense the morality which Christ taught 
 was perfect and complete. It was so in its 
 fundamental principles. The golden rule, as 
 far as we can see, is final and unalterable — 
 equally adapted for the nineteenth century as 
 for the first, as obligatory in heaven as upon 
 earth. We cannot conceive of any collection of 
 sentient and intelligent beings, for whom it 
 would not be well if one and all of them ob- 
 served this law. But our method of observing 
 it, the particular actions which we perform in 
 obedience to it, should be more or less different 
 from time to time, since in every succeeding age 
 men should attain to a higher ideal of life. 
 Christ gave His disciples certain suggestions for 
 carrying out in detail the new commandment. 
 But a literal adherence to these suggestions is 
 by no means the whole of our Christian duty. 
 
54 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 We may succeed in accomplishing much more 
 than it was possible for the original disciples 
 even to imagine. Hence, to be acting in strict 
 harmony with the letter of the Gospel precepts, 
 wUl often amount to being altogether out of 
 harmony with their spirit.: Let me explain. 
 Christ was always insisting, in the strongest 
 terms, upon the paramoujjt duty of relieving 
 the distresses of our suffering fellow-creatures. 
 He said little or nothing about the necessity 
 of preventing these distresses. The latter was 
 a problem which for many reasons the, disciples 
 were then incapable • of comprehending. ,> But 
 it is with the latter that we to-day .should 
 chiefly concern ourselves. "No man," sa-ys the 
 author of ' Ecce Homo,' " who loves his kind, 
 can in these days rest content with waiting as 
 a servant upon human misery, when it is, in so 
 many cases, possible to anticipate and avert it. 
 Prevention is better than cure ; and it is now 
 clear to all that a large part of human suffering 
 is preventible by improved social arrangements. 
 Charity wUl now, if it be genuine, fix upon this 
 enterprise as greater, more widely permanent 
 and beneficial, and therefore more Christian, 
 than the other. It will not, indeed, neglect the 
 lower task of relieving and consoling those who 
 
Want of Progress. 55 
 
 have actually fallen into calamity. But when 
 it has done all that the New Testament enjoins, 
 it will feel that its task is not half fulfilled. 
 When the starving man has been relieved, 
 modern charity inquires whether any fault in 
 the social system deprived him of his proper 
 share in nature's bounty. When the sick man 
 has been visited, and everything done which 
 skill and assiduity can do to cure him, modern 
 charity will go on to consider the causes of his 
 malady — what noxious influence besetting his 
 life, what contempt of the laws of health in 
 his diet and habits, may have caused it ; and 
 then inquire whether others incur the same 
 danger and may be warned in time." 
 
 Similarly in regard to another important 
 problem of the age, — the problem viz., as to 
 how we may elevate the tastes and brighten the 
 lives of the lower classes. We are only now 
 beginning to recognise the important part played 
 by recreation in the proper development of the 
 race. And it is our duty to apply this new 
 knowledge, so far as we possibly can, to the 
 amelioration of the lives of our poorer brethren. 
 We owe a debt of gratitude to Mr Besant for the 
 valuable suggestions and the healthy stimulus 
 contained in his 'All Sorts and Conditions of 
 
56 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 Men.' That book, as you know, has already led 
 to the formation of Toynbee Hall and the People's 
 Palace. And undertakings of this kind, though 
 quite foreign to the spirit of the first century, 
 though they never entered — never could have 
 entered — into the minds of the early disciples, 
 are nevertheless part of our present Christian 
 duty. 
 
 It is but seldom, however, that these larger 
 views have obtained as to the scope of the 
 Gospel of Christ. There is no doubt a great 
 deal of reflective and scientific philanthropy now 
 in existence, but it would not generally be re- 
 garded as forming an essential portion of the 
 Church's work. Philanthropy is too often sup- 
 posed to be something different from Christi- 
 anity. It certainly is not the whole of Christ's 
 religion, but just as certainly it is a part. It 
 is true that the Church has to care for the 
 spirits of men, but it is not less true that she 
 has also to care for their bodies. It is true that 
 she must endeavour to make men better, but it 
 is not less true that she must also endeavour to 
 make them happier. That this is her duty, 
 according to Christ's conception, no one who 
 honestly reads his N"ew Testament can possibly 
 doubt. All vital Christianity therefore — every 
 
Want of Progress. 5 7 
 
 Church, in so far as it is alive — will take the 
 utmost pains to discover new and .better ex- 
 pedients for the diminution and prevention of 
 aU the ills to which flesh has hitherto been 
 heir, but from which it may be conceivably 
 relieved. This should be as much the recog- 
 nised duty of the Church to-day, as was that 
 " relief of widows in the daily ministrations " 
 which is mentioned in the Acts of the 'Apostles. 
 
 Those for whom Christianity means the accept- 
 ance of a creed wUl of course deny this. The 
 business of religion, as they understand it, is to 
 take themselves — and perhaps a few others — to 
 heaven. Philanthropy, they imagine, lies alto- 
 gether outside its sphere. They don't trouble 
 themselves much in relieving actual distress ; 
 and as for making systematic efforts to prevent 
 it, as for trying to increase the happiness of 
 men here on earth, — aU this they look upon as 
 a sort of foible, with which those who are sure 
 of heaven need not in the least concern them- 
 selves. Yet, strange to say, — I know nothing 
 stranger in the history of human error, — they 
 seem to think that they are disciples of Christ. 
 
 Lastly, and in a word, let me call your atten- 
 tion to the want of progress in character which 
 is too often apparent among modern Christians. 
 
58 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 Though the outward aspects of Christianity may 
 change, though in one age it may be associated 
 with sufPering and distress and in another with 
 prosperity and comfort, — the Christian life has 
 an unfailing characteristic, it is always gov- 
 erned by the law of progress. As time passes 
 on, it should be evident that we are becoming 
 better men and women, as well as wiser. Other- 
 wise, it "is but a mockery for us to pray the 
 prayer, " Thy kingdom come." If we are in a 
 lethargic and stagnant state, we are ourselves in- 
 superable obstacles to the prayer being answered. 
 Christ's kingdom can never come in its full 
 glory while a single unperfected member re- 
 mains. But how many there are who make 
 no serious effort after moral perfection ! Not 
 to speak of those who, as they grow older, dis- 
 tinctly deteriorate, who become more grossly 
 selfish, more fussily thoughtful for their own 
 comfort and more rudely neglectful of other 
 people's, more troublesome and exasperating to 
 all who have the misfortune to live in the same 
 house with them, — not to speak of such as 
 these, who have no right to the name of Chris- 
 tain, how many there are who have really felt 
 an affection for Christ, and who endeavour, 
 fitfully and feebly, to serve Him, who are yet 
 
Want of Progress. 59 
 
 quite contented to remain year after year and 
 decade after decade in the same spiritual state 
 — ^in Christ indeed, but merely babes in Christ ! 
 Let us see to it that this be not our condi- 
 tion. Let us see to it thiat we grow in grace. 
 Let us remember, in regard to moral as in 
 regard to mental acquirements, that we have 
 not already attained neither are already perfect. 
 " Let us forget the things that are behind, and 
 reach forth unto thoae that are before ; let us 
 run with patience the race set before us in the 
 Gospel; let us press toward the mark, for the 
 prize of our high calling" — for that perfected 
 character which should eventually be ours. 
 
 But we shall not attain it without steady, 
 patient, and unceasing effort. No one ever 
 did. In the words of the poet who has 
 just passed away : ^ — 
 
 " The heights by great men reached and kept 
 Were not attained by sudden flight ; 
 But they, while their companions slept, 
 Were toiling upward in the night." 
 
 Such toil, however, is far sweeter than ignoble 
 rest. There is no higher joy than the con- 
 sciousness that aU the capabilities of our nature 
 are being steadily developed. You who are 
 1 Longfellow. 
 
6o Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 living thoughtful, serious, progressive lives, have 
 often, I daresay, been shocked at meeting again, 
 after a few years' interval, some friend of your 
 boyhood or girlhood. He was then your equal 
 in attainments, if not your superior. But now 
 you seem to be separated from him by an in- 
 finite gulf. He has the old thoughts and aims 
 and sympathies and conversation, which were 
 once yours also but which now you have com- 
 pletely outgrown. The contrast between your 
 present self and him is so great, that you can 
 hardly believe you ever lived on so low a level. 
 How sorry you feel for him ! And truly he 
 deserves your pity He has but one use, and 
 that is to serve as a warning. If ever you are 
 tempted to relax in your efforts for personal 
 progress and for the progress of the world ; if 
 ever you are wearily inclined to let the world 
 take its chance, and not to trouble yourself any 
 more about your own development, — think of 
 your poor stagnant friend, and your flagging 
 energies will be revived. You wUl feel that 
 you would rather do anything, and bear any- 
 thing, than allow yourself, even for a moment, 
 to play such a contemptible part. 
 
6i 
 
 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 VI. 
 
 WANT OF DEVOTION TO CHRIST. 
 
 " Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink His blood, 
 ye have no life in you." — John vi. 53. 
 
 rPHE Saviour intended that affection, passionate 
 -^ affection for Himself, should be the motive 
 power in His followers' lives.-'^ He knew that 
 no other influence would be strong enough to 
 comform them to His own perfection. He 
 repeatedly insisted upon it as being absolutely 
 essential to the true disciple. And yet in the 
 present day personal devotion to Christ is con- 
 spicuous, in the majority of professing Christians, 
 either by its absence or at any rate by its ex- 
 treme feebleness. There are many who pride 
 themselves on their orthodoxy, who talk glibly 
 ' See sermon on Redemption, p. 224. 
 
62 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 about the divinity of Christ, who worship Him 
 at stated intervals with their lips, but who in 
 their hearts are utterly indifferent to Him. Not- 
 withstanding all they say, they have never felt 
 for Him the slightest gratitude or sympathy or 
 affection. 
 
 And even of His genuine followers, there are 
 but few nowadays who love Him as did the 
 first disciples or their- immediate successors. 
 " The prevalent feeling towards Him among 
 religious men is "an awful fear of His super- 
 natural .greatness, and a disposition to obey His 
 commands, arising partly from dread of future 
 punishment and hope of reward for doing right, 
 and " partly from a nobler feeling of loyalty, 
 which however is inspired rather by His- office 
 than by His person. Beyond this we may 
 discern in them an unceasing conviction that 
 He requires more personal devotion, which leads 
 them to spasmodic efforts to kindle the feeling 
 by means of violent raptures of panegyric, and 
 by repeating over and getting by rote the ardent 
 expressions of those who really had it. That 
 is wanting for the most part which Christ held 
 to be all in all, — spontaneous, free, genuine 
 devotion." 
 
 Now, why is it that men love Christ less in 
 
Want of Devotion to Christ. 63 
 
 the nineteenth century than they ' diii in the 
 first ? One, perhaps the chief, reason is the un- 
 due influence -which has been exerted by theology, 
 and the undue importance which has been attrib- 
 uted to it. In a previous sermon,^ I pointed out 
 to you that there was no necessary connection 
 between theology, and religion ; that the former 
 was of comparatively small, the latter of the 
 greatest possible moment ; and that enthusiasm 
 was wasted .when bestowed upon theology to an 
 extent which religion alone deserved. In no 
 case may the bad effects of such misspent 
 energy' be seen more strikingly,,, than .in the 
 personal relation which too frequently* subsists 
 between Christ and His . professed . djaciples. 
 They have substituted belief, for. affection, 
 dogma for devotion. I will, not say that 
 those who are strongest in theology , are, as a 
 rule, weakest in religion. But whatever may 
 have been the result of their labours upon 
 the -theologians themselves, there can be little 
 doubt that the effect of these labours upon the 
 world in general • has been to obscure, rather 
 than; elucidate, the real Christ. Homoousianists 
 and Homoiousianists, Arians and Athanasians, 
 Docetse and Apthardocetse, Sabellians and So- 
 ' P. 29. 
 
64 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 cinians, Ebionites, Monarchians, Patripassians, 
 Theopaschites, Manicheans, Nestorians, Mono- 
 physites, Agnoetae and Aktistetse, Ktistolatrae 
 and Phthartolatrse, Monothelites and Dyothe- 
 lites, Nominalists and Eealists, and a host of 
 others, orthodox, heterodox, and doubtful, have 
 all been hotly engaged in metaphysical dis- 
 cussions as to Christ's nature and essence ; but 
 the chief effect of their cloudy logomachies has 
 been to conceal the beauty of His character and 
 the charm of His life. Had there been less the- 
 ology in the world there would have been more 
 religion. It was not for profound and diversi- 
 fied knowledge, it was not for scientific classi- 
 fications and formulae, that Christ asked, but 
 for love. His chief strength lay, as He Himself 
 knew full well, in his power over the human 
 heart. But the multiplication of theological dis- 
 cussions and controversies has diminished this 
 power, and made Him less attractive than of 
 yore. He is too frequently regarded as a sub- 
 ject for curious speculation, rather than as a Be- 
 ing to be loved. He has been transformed from 
 a man into a dogma. And however much hatred 
 dogma is capable of inspiring, it is quite incap- 
 able of exciting any love. 
 
 This leads me to suggest a second reason 
 
Wani of Devotion to Christ. 65 
 
 why Christ is less loved now than He once 
 was. Various causes have tended to throw 
 His humanity into the background, whereas He 
 Himself always brought it into prominence. 
 Strongly as He insisted upon His divinity, the 
 title by which He most frequently called Him- 
 self was the Son of man. But how diificult we 
 find it now to feel that He really was bone of our 
 bone and flesh of our flesh, in all things made 
 like unto His brethren ! " Many calling them- 
 selves Christians," says Dr Abbott, "and being 
 in a certain sense Christians, have passed through 
 life worshipping Christ as God, but have never 
 even for an instant realised the fact that He 
 actually sorrowed, pitied, was tempted — much 
 less that He grew in wisdom and learned obe- 
 dience by the things which He suffered. How 
 few believe, at least in their hearts as well as 
 with their lips, that He was a perfect man, 
 endowed with human motives as well as human 
 flesh ! Are there not some of us who might 
 confess, if we searched our hearts, that we have 
 been more touched by the story of the death of 
 Socrates, more thrilled by the familiar and ficti- 
 tious miseries of King Lear, than by the narra- 
 tive of the sorrows of Jesus of Nazareth ? And 
 why ? Why, but because our hearts have not 
 
 E 
 
66 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 yet realised that He, being man, endured for 
 US the mental and spiritual sufferings of human- 
 ity, as well as the mere bodily agonies of human 
 flesh?" 
 
 Did- you ever see the Passion-play at Ober 
 Ammergau ? If not, you will probably ima- 
 gine that it must be irreverent and repulsive. 
 But if you have, you will, I think, agree with 
 me in believing that it serves a legitimate and 
 highly useful purpose. It enables the specta- 
 tor, for once in his life, vividly to realise the 
 humanity of the Eedeemer. It is the simplest 
 and most effectual method of instructing the 
 minds and touching the hearts of the ignorant 
 Bavarian peasants. And it releases for a time 
 the educated visitor from the deadening effect of 
 custom ; it revivifies for him the Gospel narra- 
 tive, and makes him feel that the earthly life 
 of the Man of Sorrows is no mere dogma, but a 
 fact. And you need not be afraid that a vivid 
 realisation of Christ's humanity will necessarily 
 make you sceptical about His divinity. On the 
 contrary, it is in the superhuman beauty of His 
 human life that we have the strongest, the only 
 thoroughly convincing and irrefutable, proof of 
 the fact that in a very special and unique sense 
 He came forth from God. It is not by reading 
 
IVani of Devotion to Christ. 67 
 
 disquisitions upon His divinity that we best see 
 the God-likeness of Christ. It is rather by 
 studying His human life as it is unfolded in 
 the Gospels, and in one or two books which 
 have succeeded in catching the spirit of the 
 Gospels. It seems to me that a simple work 
 like ' Philochristus ' will have an effect in drawing 
 men to Christ, which could not be attained by 
 ten thousand volumes of systematic theology. 
 His divinity will never be proved by reason- 
 ing. It can be seen only in Himself. That 
 is a beautiful idea, and a true one, which Dr 
 Abbot puts into the mouth of PhUochristus, 
 the imaginary disciple whose autobiography he 
 is writing: "It seemed not to us as if we 
 honoured Jesus by calling Him God ; but it 
 seemed rather as though we were striving to 
 honour G«d by saying that He was one with 
 Jesus, for saying this seemed the same as saying 
 that God was Love." 
 
 There is a third cause which may have con- 
 tributed to the coldness of heart so frequently 
 manifested by professed disciples of Christ — ^viz, 
 a misunderstanding of the word of belief. There 
 are a goodly number of foolish persons who 
 never think or even read for themselves, and 
 who therefore really do not know that they 
 
68 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 ought to love Christ. They have heard the 
 words, " God so loved the world that He gave 
 His only hegotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
 in Him should not perish but have everlasting 
 life." They seize upon the word "belief" and ap- 
 ply it to their own case. They do not disbelieve 
 in Christ : therefore they believe in him ; there- 
 fore they are heirs of eternal life, and have done 
 everything which is required of them according 
 to the divine scheme of salvation. They do not 
 know, or they never remember, that this belief 
 was explained by Christ to consist in eating the 
 flesh and drinking the blood of the Son of man, 
 — than which anything more different from their 
 own spiritual condition could not possibly be 
 conceived. There are, in fact, two totally dis- 
 tinct kinds of belief. There is one which does 
 not, and there is one which does, affect conduct. 
 There is one which is merely intellectual, and 
 consists in understanding the terms of a pro- 
 position and assenting to it, or not denying it ; 
 and there is another which is emotional, and 
 necessarily passes into action. There is one 
 which produces no perceptible change in a man's 
 life ; and there is another which effects in it 
 a complete revolution. Let me illustrate this. 
 You believe in Mohammed and you believe in 
 
Wani of Devotion to Christ. 69 
 
 your wife. The first belief simply means, that 
 you have been given to understand that a cer- 
 tain man, named Mohammed, was the founder 
 of a certain religion, called Mohammedanism. 
 You may take an antiquarian interest in this 
 religion; but it does not and cannot have the 
 slightest effect upon your thoughts or feelings 
 or actions. If by some curious accident you 
 had never heard of Mohammed at all, your lives 
 would not be thereby in the slightest degree 
 affected. But does your belief in your wife 
 merely amount to a piece of historical informa- 
 tion that there is such a person ? For good, 
 or for bad, it must be something very different 
 from that. If for good — if your marriage is 
 at all an ideal one — you and she form, as it 
 were, a " two-celled heart beating with one full 
 stroke." She has given a new direction to your 
 thoughts, a new motive to your energies, a new 
 stimulus to your ambition. You have been 
 transformed by your love for her into a different 
 man, into a superior being. Life without her, 
 you feel, would be but a protracted death. She 
 is your "other dearer life in life," "your own 
 self's better part." All that is implied in your 
 belief in her, and would pass through your 
 mind if the belief were ever called in question. 
 
70 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 This simple illustration will suffice to show that 
 there is the greatest conceivable difference be- 
 tween the active belief which is embodied in 
 life, and the passive belief which is not. Un- 
 fortunately, it has been very common in Chris- 
 tendom to suppose, that faith in Christ consists 
 merely in giving a mental assent to certain 
 propositions regarding Him. And so a most 
 unchristian Christianity has been invented, in 
 which the acquiescence of the intellect is sub- 
 stituted for the outgoings of the heart. To 
 every adherent of this spurious Christianity 
 belongs the reproach, which was once addressed 
 to the Church at Sardis : " Thou hast a name 
 that thou livest, hut thov, art dead." The justness 
 of this accusation can only be denied by giving 
 the lie to Christ. " Except," said He, " ye eat the 
 flesh of the Son of man and drink His blood, 
 ye have no life in you." No words could express 
 a closer or more absolute union. They imply that 
 the nature and characteristics of the Master are 
 " to pass into and become " the nature and char- 
 acteristics of the disciples. And there was a time 
 when some of his followers actually experienced 
 this strange transformation, when some of them 
 were able to say: "For me to live is Christ. 
 It is not I who live, but Christ who.liveth in me." 
 
Want of Devotion to Christ. 7 1 
 
 How many are there, I wonder, in Christendom 
 to-day, who could honestly say the same ? 
 
 If you do not love Him, it must be because 
 you do not know Him. Either he is seldom in 
 your thoughts, or you think of Him as a dogma 
 rather than a person. Try and picture Him to 
 yourself as of old He lived, and talked, and 
 worked in Palestine. Eemember how wonder- 
 fully, like no one before or since. He combined 
 all conceivable excellences. He had the tender- 
 ness of the most womanly woman, and at the 
 same time the strength of the manliest man. 
 Though invincible by the temptations which 
 assailed Himself, He was always ready to make 
 the most generous allowance for those who failed 
 and fell. He lived much with God, but this 
 seemed to bring Him only nearer to man. He 
 delighted in solitary communion with the Father, 
 but He was fond also of mingling with His 
 neighbours at their social meetings and festivi- 
 ties. He was keenly alive to the paramount 
 importance of the Spirit and eternity ; and yet 
 no one was ever so thoughtfully considerate for 
 men's temporal and bodily welfare, — He minis-, 
 tered to them in their bereavements and in their 
 diseases. He was not unmindful even of their 
 hunger and thirst. He had the most sensitive 
 
72 Defects of Modern Christianity. 
 
 nature, which yearned inexpressibly for sym- 
 pathy, and yet He never, for the sake of sym- 
 pathy, swerved from the path of duty. Though 
 all His followers deserted Him, under the con- 
 viction that their confidence had been misplaced. 
 He persevered unto the end. He avoided no 
 effort. He shirked no sacrifice. He shrank from 
 no anguish, by which He might serve the race 
 in revealing God and reconciling man. Think 
 of this and much more in that sad, beautiful, 
 sublime career. Think of Him till you love 
 Him and your love has made you like Him. 
 Nothing short of this will make you what Christ 
 would call a Christian. " Except ye eat the flesh 
 and driak the blood of the Son of man, ye have 
 no life in you." 
 
To 
 
 Job. 
 I. 
 
 INTEODUCTORY. 
 
 rPHE Book of Job is one of the least read 
 books in the Bible ; but at the same time, 
 there are few more worthy of our serious atten- 
 tion. If justice is to be done to it, it must be 
 studied as a whole ; and when so examined, it 
 will be seen to stand, both as a work of art and 
 as a book of spiritual instruction, upon the very 
 highest level. In regard to this matter all com- 
 petent critics are agreed. "I call that book," said 
 Thomas Carlyle, " apart from all theories about 
 it, one of the grandest things ever written with 
 the pen. There is nothing, either in the Bible 
 or out of it, of equal literary merit." Similar 
 testimony is borne by Mr Froude. "It is a 
 book," he declares, "of which it is to say little 
 
74 Job : Introductory. 
 
 that it is unequalled of its kind. One day, 
 perhaps, when it is allowed to stand on its own 
 merits, it will be seen towering up alone above 
 all the poetry of the world." 
 
 With regard to its date, there has been great 
 diversity of opinion. Some have held that it 
 was of pre-Mosaic origin, written in the age of 
 the patriarchs. For this view there are no good 
 grounds. The hero, it is true, is represented as 
 having lived in that period, but there is nothing 
 to suggest that the book was written contem- 
 poraneously. It has also been placed in the 
 Mosaic period : and, according to a Jewish tra- 
 dition, had Moses himself for its author. This 
 view has little to support it except some trifling 
 affinities to the style of the Pentateuch, and 
 the fact that its writer, in common with Moses, 
 evidently had a considerable acquaintance with 
 Egypt and Arabia. 
 
 That the book was not written 'before the 
 time of Solomon is sufficiently proved by one 
 characteristic alone — viz., its catholicity of spirit. 
 Such a spirit did not exist among the Jews 
 until that date. It seems to have been the 
 result of the new and wider relation into 
 which they had begun to enter with the more 
 cultivated nations of antiquity. The aim of 
 
yob : Introductory. 75 
 
 the Solomonic literature was, as Godet says, 
 to find something deeper than Judaism, to dis- 
 cover the man beneath the Israelite, and to 
 discourse of that Eternal Wisdom whose deUght 
 is in all the children of men. This is very 
 strikingly illustrated in Job. Neither the hero 
 nor any of the subordinate characters are Jews ; 
 the place where the events are said to have 
 occurred is out of Palestine ; the worship de- 
 scribed in it, consisting of sacrifices offered by 
 the father of the family, was common among 
 the Gentiles ; and from beginning to end there 
 is no allusion to Jewish history or institutions. 
 " Such a noble universality," says Carlyle, " reigns 
 through the book, that one feels as if it were 
 not Hebrew. It is all men's book." Delitzseh 
 and others assign the Book of Job to the Solo- 
 monic era, when this spirit of catholicity at first 
 arose. 
 
 There has long, however, been a tendency 
 among scholars to refer it to a much later date. 
 Ewald thinks that it belongs to the great pro- 
 phetic period, and that its author was contem- 
 porary with Jeremiah. To this Mr Froude 
 objects that the prophetic period was an era of 
 decrepitude, dissolution, sin and shame. The 
 energies of the prophets were devoted to rebukes 
 
76 yob: Introductory. 
 
 and warnings and exhortations. In such a time 
 men would be too absorbed with the present for 
 searching, like the writer of Job, into the deepest 
 mysteries of existence. On the other hand, Dr 
 Samuel Davidson says, it is not likely that the 
 problem of misery would have forced itself upon 
 men's attention during the prosperity of the 
 Solomonic age. He considers Job to have been 
 the outcome, directly or indirectly, of some great 
 national calamity. The literature called Chok- 
 mah or Wisdom, — which sprang up in the time 
 of Solomon and continued to flourish for many 
 centuries afterwards, — Dr Davidson divides into 
 three periods : (1) The period of principles, to 
 which belongs the Book of Proverbs ; (2) The 
 period of problems, when Psalms xxxvii., xlix., 
 and Ixxiii. were written ; and (3) The period of 
 exhaustion, when men had given up all attempt 
 to solve the mysteries of existence. To the last 
 division belongs the Book of Ecclesiastes. Job, 
 says Dr Davidson, was certainly not produced 
 in this period. And he also thinks that it 
 cannot be placed in the first, because the doc- 
 trine of evil belonging to that period is the 
 doctrine of the friends, a view from which this 
 book signalises the final departure. The spirit 
 of Job is that of the Psalms above mentioned 
 
yob: Introductory. 77 
 
 and of the prophets ; and it must therefore, he 
 thinks, have been written between the seventh 
 and fifth centuries B.C. 
 
 In regard to the subject-matter of the book, 
 there has been no less diversity of opinion than 
 in regard to its date. Some have thought that 
 it was in the strictest sense historical. This 
 was the ancient opinion both among Jews and 
 Christians. Those who credited Moses with its 
 authorship said that he wrote the opening and 
 closing chapters and compiled the dialogues, 
 from MSS. which he met with during his 
 residence in Midian, in which MSS. the various 
 speeches were supposed to be reported accurately 
 and verbatim. This view, so far as I am aware, 
 has at present no eminent supporter. Others 
 have regarded the book as purely a work of 
 imagination, having no foundation in fact. In 
 the Talmud, for example, we read, " Job did not 
 exist. He was not a man but a parable." The 
 fact of his existence, however, seems to be 
 assumed by the sacred writers Ezekiel and St 
 James. Further, as Ewald justly remarks, the 
 invention of a story without foundation in facts 
 — the creation of a person who had no real 
 historical existence — is wholly alien to the spirit 
 of antiq^uity. And again it is hardly likely that 
 
yS Job : Introductory. 
 
 in any era, however catholic, a Jew would have 
 taken a Gentile to represent the most perfect of 
 men, had the representation been purely fictitious. 
 
 The truth probably here, as elsewhere, lies 
 between the two extreme theories. The book 
 is neither altogether historical nor altogether 
 imaginary. The main facts of the story were 
 literally trup, and they happened in the patri- 
 archaL age. Job's history was handed down 
 traditionally from generation to generation, grow- 
 ing in volume and beauty, till it was taken up by 
 a post-Solomonic poet and worked into its pres- 
 ent exquisite form. This was Luther's opinion. 
 " I look upon the Book of Job," he said, " as 
 a true history ; yet I do not believe that all 
 took place as it is written there, but that a 
 pious and learned man of genius brought it 
 into it its present form." But who that man of 
 genius was, the world will never know. 
 
 Now let us inquire for a moment into the 
 purpose of the book. This is generally in- 
 adequately, not to say incorrectly, conceived. 
 According to the popular notion, the writer 
 merely wished to refute the common theory 
 that good men were necessarily prosperous. On 
 the contrary, it seems to me that this theory 
 is rather confirmed than refuted. It is indeed 
 
Job : Introductory, 79 
 
 shown that the merited prosperity may not come 
 at once. But Job is declared m the, end to have 
 become twice as prosperous as ever. 
 
 Again, many critics suppose that the chief 
 intention of the book is to prove the power of 
 an unselfish love for God. " Hast thou con- 
 sidered my servant Job," says Jehovah to Satan, 
 "that there is none like him in the earth, a 
 perfect and an upright man, one that feareth 
 God, and escheweth evil ? " To which Satan re- 
 plies : " Doth Job fear God for nought ? Hast 
 not Thou made an hedge about him, and about 
 his house, and about all that he hath on every 
 side ? Thou hast blessed the work of his hands, 
 and his substance is increased in the land ; but 
 put forth Thine hand now, and touch all that 
 he hath, . . . put forth Thiae hand now, and 
 touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse 
 Thee to Thy face." The book was written, say 
 certain critics, to refute this cynical supposition. 
 But inasmuch as the supposition is never men- 
 tioned after the second chapter, it can hardly 
 be supposed that the whole poem was written 
 to refute it. In fact no poem, worthy of the 
 name, was ever written to prove or disprove 
 anything. Art cares nothing^ for demonstration. 
 
 The purpose of the book is someSiing far 
 
8o Job: Introductory. 
 
 higher than to refute any definite theory or 
 teach any definite doctrine. It is the history of 
 a soul in its struggle after God. The scene of 
 the drama is the heart of Job. Here is a man 
 who by his losses, his bereavements, his horrible 
 disease, and above all by the iIl-ady^ed.££Hiyer- 
 sation of his friends, is driven to the very verge 
 of madness. He had been a good man — the 
 best of men. He had been pious and devout, 
 not merely in outward conduct, but he had lived, 
 as he thought, in filial communion with God. 
 Now, however, it was as if the great Father 
 were dead. Surely He would not otherwise 
 be deaf to such passionate entreaties. Perhaps, 
 after all, he had been but worshipping a phantom 
 of his own imagination; or worse, perhaps the 
 powerful Being, in whom he had believed as a 
 loving God, was but a malignant fiend who took 
 pleasure in insulting him — who had once made 
 him glad only to increase his present anguish. 
 But no ! when he remembers his past experience, 
 there was something too real, too beautiful in 
 it, to admit of this supposition. He will still 
 trust. Perchance the old blessedness may re- 
 turn. And yet, and yet, — and so he goes 
 through all transitions of despair and hope ; 
 " now praying and trusting ; now utterly cast 
 
yob: Introductory. 8i 
 
 down ; now quiet and submissive ; now violent, 
 and ready even to blaspheme ; and at last rising 
 suddenly to a height of rapture in which every- 
 thing disappears in a beatific vision of God." 
 
 To foUow him in his spiritual experience will 
 be for us a matter not merely of speculative 
 interest, but of real practical value. Job was 
 assailed by no fiercer doubts than may come to 
 us. At any time we may be overtaken by the 
 most terrible calamity. And if not, unless we be 
 very thoughtless, our spirits will sometimes be 
 weighed down by an oppressive sense of the 
 mystery of existence. The waste and cruelty 
 so apparent throughout nature ; the deadly 
 regularity of law going on its relentless course, 
 in spite of the entreaties and groans of the 
 myriads whom it tortures and prematurely slays ; 
 the necessity of believing, if we are to believe at 
 all, not only without seeing, but even in opposi- 
 tion to what we seem to see ; the consciousness 
 that we have sought for God and found Him 
 not, so that there is nothing for it but to say 
 with Job, " Behold I go forward, but He is not 
 there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him : 
 on the left hand, where He doth work, but I 
 cannot behold Him ; He hideth Himself on 
 the right hand, that I cannot see Him ; " — such 
 
 F 
 
82 Job: Introductory. 
 
 feelings as these may at times weigh upon our 
 
 spirits like a nightmare, and lead us to exclaim 
 
 with the poet : — 
 
 " Who shall read us the riddle of life ? 
 The continual sequence of pain, 
 
 The perpetual triumph of wrong. 
 The whole creation in travail to make 
 A vietoiy for the strong ? 
 
 How are we fettered and caged. 
 
 Within our dark prison-house here ! 
 We are made to look for a loving plan ; 
 
 We find everywhere sorrow and fear. 
 We look for the triumph of Good ; 
 
 And from all the wide world around, 
 The lives that are spent cry upward to heaven 
 
 From the slaughter-house of the ground, 
 Till we feel that Evil is Lord. 
 
 \ And yet we are bound to believe, — 
 I Because all our nature is so, — 
 
 In a Ruler touched by an infinite ruth 
 
 For all His creatures below. 
 Bound, though a mocking fiend point 
 
 To the waste and ruin and pain ; 
 Bound, though our souls should be bowed in despair ; 
 
 Bound, though wrong triumph again and again. 
 And we cannot answer a word." 
 
 The study of Job may help us. He who had 
 fathomed to its deepest depth and its blackest 
 darkness the abySs of despairing scepticism, at- 
 tained eventually to the joy of joys — the hap- 
 piness of a calm and unwavering faith. And so, 
 God helping us, may we. 
 
83 
 
 Job. 
 II. 
 
 CHAPTERS I.-III. 
 
 rpHE Book of Job naturally divides itself into 
 -*- seven parts. I. The prologue, contained in 
 the first and second chapters, setting forth the 
 early history and circumstances of the hero, and 
 explaining the origin of that terrible mental 
 conflict which it is the chief business of the 
 poem to portray. II. Job's curse, contained 
 in the third chapter. III. A discussion, extend- 
 ing from the 4th to the 25 th chapter, as to the 
 connection between suffering and sin. This 
 discussion, as we shall see, is not introduced 
 for its own sake. It is no mere piece of intel- 
 lectual gymnastic. Its purpose is to unfold and 
 explain the struggle which is going on in the 
 heart of Job. IV. Job's soliloquy in chapters 
 
84 yob: Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 26-31. V. (Chapters 32-37 are an interpola- 
 tion.) The discourse of Jehovah in chapters 
 38-41. VI. Job's final confession of faith, in 
 the first six verses of the last chapter. VII. 
 The epilogue in the remaining verses. 
 
 The prologue and the epilogue are but the 
 setting of the poem. They describe the temporal 
 circumstances of the man with whose spiritual 
 experiences the poem itself is concerned. They 
 are written in prose — in order, as I imagine, 
 that they may not be confused with the main 
 action of the drama, which lies in the heart of 
 Job. Many parts of the prologue are fuUy as 
 dramatic and imaginative and poetical in spirit 
 as anything that follows. But had the poetical 
 form been adopted, it would have interfered with 
 the essential unity of the drama as conceived by 
 the author. He intended it to describe the pro- 
 gress of a soul from darkness to light, from 
 scepticism to faith. And to this purpose every- 
 thing is subordinated. 
 
 We are introduced in the outset to a highly 
 prosperous and a truly good man. He had pro- 
 perty which, estimated at the present value of 
 money, must have made him what we should 
 call a millionaire. He had, we are told, seven 
 sons and three daughters. Large families in 
 
Job : Chaps, i.-iii. 85 
 
 those days were peculiarly prized, and sons were 
 more valued than daughters : girls, I am sorry to 
 say, were not thought of much account. He was 
 no less good than prosperous : he was a " perfect 
 and an upright man, fearing God and eschewing 
 evil." One characteristic feature of his religious 
 life is mentioned in particular. It seems that 
 his sons were in the habit of holding festive 
 gatherings periodically at each other's houses. 
 There could have been no harm, no impropriety, 
 in the festivals, for their sisters were always 
 invited to join them. But when the feast-days 
 were over. Job offered up sacrifices on behalf of 
 his children. " It may be," he said to himself, 
 " that my sons have abandoned God in their 
 hearts." He was afraid that they might have 
 been led, by their very happiness, into forgetful- 
 ness of God. In a word, for prosperity he was 
 the " greatest man in all the East," and for good- 
 ness "there was none like him on the earth." 
 
 Now it was such a man as this that, accord- 
 ing to the old tradition, had once been overtaken 
 by the direst calamities with which ever mortal 
 was afflicted. Tradition gave the facts, but it 
 was puzzled by them ; for up to the time when 
 this book was written, suffering was regarded 
 as invariably retributive. The poet wishes to 
 
86 Job : Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 intimate, at the outset, that suffering may- 
 have a far higher — viz., a didactic — purpose. 
 It may teach lessons which there are no other 
 means of learning. Job's sufferings, for ex- 
 ample, and the way in which he bears them, go 
 far to prove that men are capable of an unselfish 
 love for God. With a view of suggesting to us 
 the didactic use of suffering, the poet introduces 
 us into the court of heaven. The Ministers of 
 State — " the sons of God," a-s they are here 
 called — are represented as coming to report 
 themselves, and with them comes a being called 
 in Hebrew the Adversary and in our author- 
 ised version Satan. Herder, Eichhorn and others 
 say that he is intended for a divinely commis- 
 sioned recording angel. It seems pretty evident 
 however, that he had not received his commis- 
 sion, like the rest, from the hands of the Lord, 
 for he is asked, " Whence comest thou ? " His 
 is a self-appointed task. He goes about mis- 
 representing goodness, and trying to make out 
 that it is merely a form of evil. He is the 
 impersonation of cynicism. We do not un- 
 fortunately need to go out of the world to 
 find his like. Literature abounds in definitions 
 like the following : Pity is the consciousness 
 that the same calamity might happen to our- 
 
Job: Chaps, i.-iii. 87 
 
 selves. Love is our belief that we need the 
 beloved object. Liberality is the vanity of 
 giving. Friendship is a mere traf&c, in which 
 self-love always proposes to be the gainer. 
 Gratitude is a lively sense of favours to come. 
 Virtue is doing right according to the will of 
 God for the sake of happiness. All these def- 
 initions imply that human beings, during their 
 progress from the cradle to the grave, are in- 
 capable of a single unselfish thought, of a single 
 generous emotion, and that the best of men are 
 but hypocrites skilfully acting a part, — 
 
 " Who, trimmed in forma and visages of duty, 
 Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves." 
 
 On the same principle Satan, when Job is men- 
 tioned to him as a man whom even he would 
 be unable to traduce, throws out the suggestion 
 that the person in question was religious only 
 because he found it paid, that he served God 
 merely for what was to be got out of Him. 
 " Do you think so ? " says Jehovah ; " try him 
 and see." And he tries him. The arch-cynic 
 is here represented as being almost omnipotent 
 for mischiefc On one day Job loses all his 
 property and all his children. But he does not 
 curse God as Satan had predicted. He falls on 
 
88 Job: Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 his face and worships. " The Lord gave," he 
 said, "and the Lord hath taken away; blessed 
 he the name of the Lord." 
 
 The Adversary, however, does not consider 
 himself beaten. With diabolical evil-minded- 
 ness he suggests, that the loss of Job's children 
 was nothing to him so long as his own health 
 was spared : let that be touched and he would 
 appear in his true colours — selfish to the core. 
 Again Jehovah replies, "Try him and see." 
 And now the ruined, childless man is struck 
 with elephantiasis — the worst form of leprosy 
 — ^the loathsomeness of which it is impossible 
 for me here to describe. Job, when he feels 
 himself smitten, goes and sits down on the 
 meebele, — ^" among the ashes" as we have it in 
 our version. This was a heap of refuse lying 
 outside a town or village. It was usually burnt 
 once a-month, and so became a firm, compact 
 mass. It was the regular resort of the homeless 
 and destitute, and of those who were afiflicted 
 with any contagious disease which prevented 
 their being admitted into the society of their 
 fellows. 
 
 His wife^ finds him in this position, — the 
 
 ' The commentators have generally treated Joh's wife with 
 great unfairness. 
 
yob: Chaps, i.-iii. 89 
 
 greatest man of the East sitting beside outcast 
 beggars ! Poor woman ! she could bear it no 
 longer. She had not uttered a complaint at their 
 loss of property ; she had been silent when her 
 children died ; but this more immediately con- 
 cerned her husband, and therefore, like a true 
 woman, she felt it more acutely. She, for her 
 part, now comes to the conclusion that religion 
 is a mistake. " Curse God, and die," she says. 
 " It will be a relief to curse Him. He can but 
 kill you for your pains ; and then at any rate 
 you will have done with this terrible Enemy." 
 Or she may have meant to be even more sarcastic 
 in her expostulation ; for curiously enough in 
 Hebrew the same word, derived from a root 
 meaning to kneel, signifies both to curse and 
 to bless. She may therefore have intended to 
 say, " Bless Him again, and you can only expect 
 to lose your life. You blessed Him once, and 
 He took away all your possessions ; you blessed 
 Him a second time, and He gave you the worst 
 of all possible diseases ; try it once more, and 
 He will kill you for your pains." 
 
 But Job holds on his way unmoved. The 
 God whom he had loved was, even yet, dearer 
 to him than aught beside. He could have said 
 with Xavier : — 
 
90 Job : Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 " My God, I love Thee not because 
 
 I hope for heaven thereby, 
 Kor yet because who love Thee not 
 
 Must burn eternally : 
 Not with the hope of gaining aught 
 
 Nor seeking a reward. 
 But as Thyself hast lov^d me, 
 
 ever-loving Lord." 
 
 As yet Job utters no word of complaint. He 
 even attempts, as best he can, to justify the 
 Almighty. " Shall we receive good," he asks, 
 " at the hand of God, and shall we not receive 
 evil ? " Evidently then Job's previous religious- 
 ness had not been mere self-seeking; for now 
 he had nothing, less than nothing, yet he still 
 continued to worship. The author's purpose in 
 this part of the prologue is to suggest to us that 
 he knows the assertion of the adversary to be 
 false. He wishes us to understand that he 
 assumes the possibility of an unselfish piety. 
 Worship, he thinks, should be independent of 
 rewards and punishments. He is possessed and 
 inspired by the idea that God is worthy of being 
 served for nought. 
 
 Job appears to be fully conscious of the depth 
 of his misery only after the arrival of his 
 friends, who came according to etiquette to pay 
 him a visit of condolence. His affliction and 
 his disease have made such havoc that at first 
 
Job: Chaps, i.-iii. 91 
 
 they do not recognise him. The only real kind- 
 ness in their power was to mourn with him in 
 silence, and this for a time they did. " They 
 sat round the ash-heap for seven days and seven 
 nights ; and none spake a word unto him ; for 
 they saw that his grief was very great." All 
 this time Job remained brooding over his grief. 
 At last a change comes over him ; his patience 
 gives way ; he is calm no longer, but breaks 
 forth into into a passionate malediction. This 
 is the beginning of the poem. — 
 
 Perish the day wherein I was lorn. Let it 
 'he turned into darkness. Let not God regard it. 
 Let those who decide what days are to he urducky 
 join me in cursing it. Let it he a day of blackness 
 and terror and grief, nay, let it pass out of the 
 calendar and he altogether forgotten, because it 
 allowed me to he horn. 
 
 If it was necessary that I should come into the 
 world at all, why did I not forthwith eocfpire ? I 
 should now have been sleeping quietly with kings 
 and princes, in that happy spot where all are 
 equal and all are at peace; where the prisoner 
 is at liberty and the slam is free; where the 
 wicked cease Jrom troubling and the vjeary are 
 at rest. 
 
 Or if T could not die as soon as I was horn, ^ 
 
92 jfob: Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 why was I not allowed to expire when life 
 became unlearaile? As it is, sighs and groans 
 are my only food. My worst fears, since I became 
 afflicted, have been more than realised. Trouble 
 eometh upon trouble. Death T regard as the msst 
 'precious treasure. To the grave I look forward 
 as to a happy home. Why is life forced upon 
 me? 
 
 This brings us to the discussion between Job 
 and his friends. Eliphaz was probably the 
 oldest of the three, for in the East the greatest 
 respect was paid to age, and he always speaks 
 first. He was decidedly the wisest and the' 
 best of them, — a more original thinker, a more 
 gentlemanly controversialist, and a more sym- 
 pathetic, or rather a less unsympathetic, friend. 
 He had something of " the vision and the faculty 
 divine." He had heard voices and talked with 
 spirits from the unseen world ; and it is on this 
 experience that he now bases his argument. 
 Bildad has nothing of his own to bring into the 
 discussion, but he is great in proverbs and in the 
 opinions of the Fathers. He thinks as he does 
 because his reading has shown him that such 
 were the views of his ancestors. Zophar is 
 neither a thinker nor a scholar. He is an 
 ignorant and vulgar bigot. He could hardly 
 
yob : Chaps, i.riii. 93 
 
 say when or how his opinions first came into 
 his head; he has never asked himself why he 
 believed anything. The fact that his ideas 
 are his own is their all-sufficient justification. 
 A man so pleased with himself is naturally 
 very hard upon others. Accordingly we find 
 Zophar more cruel in his treatment of Job than 
 either of the other two. 
 
 The discussion consists of three parts. The 
 friends speak in each part, and are separately 
 answered by Job, except on the last occasion, 
 when Zophar, with more sense than we should 
 have been inclined to credit him, holds his 
 tongue.^ The discussion springs out of Job's 
 malediction, which has aroused their orthodox 
 zeal. According to their view of matters, he 
 ought to have been confessing his sins instead of 
 cursing his fate. " A little sympathy on such an 
 occasion would have been worth a good deal of 
 theology." But theology was their strong point, 
 and so they begin to talk it. Their speeches are 
 throughout based on the assumption, that rewards 
 and punishments — of a physical and palpable 
 nature^ — are meted out strictly according to moral 
 
 1 See note, p. 139. 
 
 ' As to other rewards and punishments, see a sermon on 
 " Retribution " in my ' Origin of Evil.' 
 
94 Job : Chaps, i.-iiu 
 
 desert, that none but the wicked suffer, and that 
 their sufferings are in exact proportion to the 
 magnitude of their sins. This assumption in 
 the old oriental theology is, if you come to think 
 of it, very curious and suggestive. One would 
 have imagined it a most patent truth that, so 
 far at least as superficial observation can detect, 
 men are not dealt with according to their deserts. 
 No doubt violations of natural law are followed 
 by disastrous physical consequences ; and so, if 
 detected, are violations of social law. But with 
 moral offences it is different : there is no visi- 
 ble punishment which invariably follows them. 
 Nature, moreover, often destroys the innocent, 
 and society frequently persecutes its benefactors. 
 Since the world began, the best men, to all out- 
 ward appearance, have often been the most un- 
 fortunate, and the worst men the most successful. 
 The manifest want of adjustment between men's 
 deserts and their external circumstances is, with 
 our modern theologians, one of the strongest 
 arguments for a future life. But formerly, it 
 had been assumed that the adjustment was 
 absolutely perfect. The facts, numerous enough 
 and striking enough, which contradicted the 
 assumption, the older theologians never seemed 
 to see. " Experience," says Mr Froude, " when 
 
yob : Chaps, i.-iii, 95 
 
 it contradicts our cherished convictions, is like 
 water dropping on the rock, which it wears away 
 indeed, hut only after thousands of years." This 
 theory, as to the exclusively retributive nature 
 of suffering, had formed part of Job's own the- 
 ology; and, as we shall see, the difficulty, or 
 rather the impossibility, of reconciling it with 
 his own experience was one great source of his 
 mental distress. His friends were quite sure he 
 deserved his afflictions. Men are generally very 
 sceptical as to the merits of their neighbours. 
 They were also sure that he should have en- 
 dured them with patience. Other people's 
 troubles are so easily borne. They begin by 
 hinting vaguely that he must have been guilty 
 of some heinous crime, and they exhort him to 
 repentance, in order that he may be forgiven and 
 restored to his former prosperity. But after- 
 wards, when he has indignantly denied their 
 accusations and in the bitterness of his spirit 
 accused God of injustice, they no longer content 
 themselves with hints, but make definite charges 
 against him, anything serving their purpose that 
 happens to suggest itself in the excitement of 
 the moment. His anger cools as theirs gets 
 hotter. At first, when their insinuations were 
 vague, he was half afraid lest his friends might 
 
96 Job: Chaps, i.-iii. 
 
 be right ; but afterwards the accusations lose all 
 force by their very definiteness, and he becomes 
 quite sure that they must be wrong. He no 
 longer troubles himself about them. They have 
 put themselves beyond the pale of controversy. 
 Though at first they angered him, they have on 
 the whole been leading him to the attainment of 
 peace. Eliphaz by his misinterpreted visions, 
 Bildad by his misapplied quotations, Zophar by 
 his self-complacent stupidity, have been driving 
 him nearer to God. The want of human sym- 
 pathy has been helping him to believe that God, 
 though more just than man, is at the same time 
 infinitely more merciful. As Faber has beauti- 
 fully expressed it : — 
 
 " There is no place where earth's sorrows 
 Are more felt than up in heaven ; 
 There is no place where earth's failings 
 Have such kindly judgment given. 
 
 But we make His love too narrow 
 
 By false limits of our own ; 
 And we magnify His strictness 
 
 With a zeal He will not own. 
 
 For the love of God is broader 
 
 Than the measure of man's mind ; 
 And the Heart of the Eternal 
 
 Is most wonderfully kind." 
 
97 
 
 Job. 
 III. 
 
 CHAPTERS IV. -X. 
 
 T HAVE already given you a general idea of 
 
 the discussion which extends from the 4th to 
 
 the 25th chapters of the Book of Job. We must 
 
 now look at this discussion a little more in detail. 
 
 It is opened by Eliphaz. He acknowledges 
 Job's previous piety, but at the same time sug- 
 gests to him that suffering can only result from 
 sin. He then exhorts him to repent and to be- 
 come pious again, assuring him on these terms of 
 a brilliant future. He begins apologetically — 
 
 My conscieoice compels me to say something to 
 you. Might I venture to speak without your being 
 vexed? Sow is it that you, who have so often 
 comforted the distressed, are dismayed as soon as 
 calamity comes vpon yourself? Instead of despair- 
 G 
 
9 8 Job : Chaps, iv.-x. 
 
 ing, you should remember that the innocent never 
 perish. It is only the wicked who are consumed. 
 You need not be ctshamed to own 
 your sin, for all of iis are sinners. This was re- 
 vealed to me once in a vision. In the darkness of 
 the night, when deep sleep falls upon men, a fear 
 came upon me and trembling, a wind swept over 
 my face, and there stood before me a Presence, whose 
 form I could not discern. It spoke in a clear, soft 
 voice, and asked, "Shall mortal rrtan, who is sooner 
 crushed than the moth, be pure in the sight of 
 God his Maker, who chargeth even the- angels with 
 folly ? It cannot be." Ask any of the holy ones 
 themselves, and they will confirm my doctrine. 
 I have watched the wicked, and 
 always found it ill with them. Their property is 
 enjoyed hy robbers. Their children ruin themselves 
 with lawsuits. They themselves prematurely pass 
 away. But this suffering is no accident; it is the 
 punishment of sin. And since all men are sinners, 
 suffering must come, more or less, to all. Man is 
 born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. Your 
 grief is but an extreme illustration of the com- 
 mon rule. Were T in your plajce, 
 I would have recourse to God. Forgiveness and 
 happiness may seem more than you can hope for ; 
 but God is always doing great things past finding 
 
yob : Chaps, iv.-x. 99 
 
 out. He is continually exalting those that are 
 cast down. Happy is the man whom God cor- 
 recteth. Despise not His christening. It is for 
 your good. His purpose is to make you reflect. 
 God only hruises in order that He may heal. 
 Betum to Him, and your prosperity will be re- 
 stored — nay, increased. In famine He will sus- 
 tain you. In war He will protect you. You will 
 laugh at all forms of danger. Wild beasts will 
 never hurt you. Even the stones of the field will 
 be in league with you, and, instead of obstructing 
 your crops, will give them a more luxuriant growth. 
 Your children will be multiplied as the very grass 
 of the land. You shall go down to the tomb in 
 a ripe old age, like a shock of corn fully rife. 
 This, Job, is my eoeperience. Hear it and learn 
 it for your good. 
 
 Such is the gist of the speech of Eliphaz, as 
 contained in the 4th and 5 th chapters. If he 
 must preach rather than sympathise, he could 
 not well have preached a better sermon. The 
 harshness of the insinuation that affliction was a 
 judgment, he delicately tempered, by suggesting 
 that suffering was common to man, and by as- 
 suring Job of a happy future if he would but 
 repent. Still it was evident that he had not 
 realised the greatness of the sufferer's grief. 
 
lOO yob: Chaps, iv.-x. 
 
 Had he done so, he would never have at- 
 tempted to assuage it by theology. 
 
 In the 6 th and 7th chapters we have Job's 
 reply. He begins with upbraiding Eliphaz, and 
 ends with upbraiding God. True, I have been 
 passionate, hut m/y passion is as nothing if com- 
 pared to my grief, which is heavier than the sands 
 of the sea. The poisoned arrows of the Almighty 
 are rankling in my soul. You might have guessed 
 what I was suffering when you heard my complaint. 
 Not even a Vrute cries out without cause ; still less 
 would a rational man. Your moralisings are 
 insipid and disgusting to me. You 
 
 threaten me with death, if I do not confess that I 
 am guilty. Death is the very thing that I desire. 
 I am not afraid to die, for I have never broken 
 the commandments of the Holy One. Oh that God 
 would crush me out and out, instead of preserving 
 me for this lingering torture ! I would dance 
 for joy under any pain that might speedily end 
 in death. You promise me a happy 
 
 futwre, if I do confess. But there can be no 
 future for me. It is too late to hope for restored 
 health. I am not made of stone or brass. It is 
 the part of friendship to show pity, otherwise the 
 afflicted may be led into despair and cdheism. My 
 brethren have deceived me. They are like a brook. 
 
Job: Chaps, iv.-x. loi 
 
 which in the winter-time, when it is not wanted, 
 rolls along in a full, turbid stream; hit in the 
 summer, when the parched and thirsty caravans are 
 in need of water, it has dried wp. If I had asked 
 you to give me anything, to help me in any difficulty 
 or danger, I should not have been surprised at your 
 refusing. I never expected your friendship to be 
 good for as much as that. But I only asked for 
 pity, and even this you refuse. You tell me I 
 have sinned, but you do not tell me how. As for 
 the bitter language of my curse, any one but a 
 monster would make allowance for the frenzy of 
 despair. And what I said ahout my innocence 
 was quite true. I can repeat it in perfect calmness. 
 I would not lie to your fa^e. Bo you suppose I 
 have lost all sense of the difference between right 
 and wrong ? 
 
 You have drawn a pretty picture of a divine 
 Father ; but it would have been truer to the facts 
 if you had talked about a divine taskmaster. 
 Man has a hard service to perform upon earth. 
 As a slave pants for the shadow of night, which 
 will release him from his work, so man pants for 
 death, when his misery will end. As for me, I 
 have been allotted days of vanity and nights of 
 weariness. And there is no prospect of any com- 
 pensation. For this life of ours is but a breath ; 
 
I02 Job: Chaps, iv.-x. 
 
 it has no sooner come, than it has gone from us for 
 ever. Man goes down to Hades, and returns never- 
 more. Me vanishes like a cloud that is dissolved. 
 He will never again see good. God, 
 
 why dost Thoub torture me thus? Is it lecause 
 Thou art afraid of me ? Can such a poor, worn- 
 out wreck as J, he an object of terror, like an 
 ocean or a sea that needs to be restrained? Let 
 me alone. My days are but a vapour' at the best. 
 Why must I be harassed throv^howt my little 
 span ? Why shouldst Thou give Thyself so much 
 trouble about siuch a pitiful creature as man ? Is 
 it worth Thy while to come inspecting me morning 
 by morning, putting me to the proof moment by 
 moment, scaring me with dreams, terrifying me 
 with visions, making my life a burden too heavy 
 to be borne ? Wilt Thou never take 2%ine eyes off 
 me. Thou spy iipon men ? Perhaps I have sinned, 
 hut what harm have I done to Thee ? If my sin 
 is so distasteful to Thee, why couldst Thou not 
 pardon it, and cause it to pass away ? 
 As for me, I must soon lay me down and mingle 
 with the dust. 
 
 Job has no sooner ceased than Bildad comes 
 forward, " with a little store of maxims preach- 
 ing down the sufferer's heart." He makes no 
 apology for venturing to speak, but bluntly be- 
 
Job: Chaps, iv.-x. 103 
 
 gins with a rebuke. How long will you continue 
 to rage? Do you suppose God is unjust? He 
 would not ham killed your children unless they 
 had been grievous sinners. To you an 
 
 opportunity 0/ repentance has been granted, inas- 
 much as He has spared your life. If you will 
 but become again pure and upright. He will make 
 you more prosperous than ever. Mark 
 
 me, I do not offer this as my own private opinion. 
 I am but of yesterday and hnow nothing. What 
 I am teaching you has been handed down to us 
 from antiquity, where all wisdom, is to be found. 
 The ancients tell us that a rtian who forgets God 
 can no more prosper than a tree can live without 
 water. They tell us that the hope of the wicked is 
 doomed to disappointment, its foundation being as 
 frail as a spider's web. They tell us that the 
 wicked will perish like a plant growing in stony 
 soil, which is soon destroyed, and leaves no trace 
 of its ecdstence behind. Such is the sinner's joyful 
 career ! But if you will turn to God, 
 
 your mouth may even yet be filled with laughter. 
 
 In chapters ix. and x. Job speaks again. 
 He points out that omnipotence is no proof of 
 justice. He tries to show that God is in actual 
 fact unjust; and he concludes by passionately 
 expostulating with the Almighty. 
 
I04 Job: Chaps, iv.-x. 
 
 You say God rewards the good. Well, I know 
 He does; at least He rewards those whom He 
 chooses to consider good. But how is an innocent 
 man to establish his innocence, if God refuses to 
 acknowledge it? He is an almighty Adversary. 
 LooTc at His action in the world around iis. He 
 causes earthquakes and eclipses and tempests, out 
 of mere capricious fury. And not content with 
 devastating nature. He must now he crossing my 
 path, — at least so it seems by the disasters that 
 have been happening to me. He has seized upon 
 my property and my children and my health, 
 and I am powerless to resist Him. I cannot 
 even say to Him, What doest Thou? I am so 
 weak that I dare not complain. I can only sup- 
 plicate my Adversary for mercy. If I ventured 
 to call Him to account, and He were to appear in 
 answer to my summons, I should have no hope 
 thai He would listen to me. He would but 
 redouble my sufferings. He would take away my 
 breath, so that I should be speechless. He would 
 ask me ironically, " Have you summoned me to a 
 trial of strength ? If so, I am ready for you. 
 Or is it a trial of right that you want ? What 
 can be the good of impeaching me ? " I should be 
 so confused and terrified that, however innocent I 
 knew myself to be, I should declare that I was 
 
Job: Chaps, iv.-x. 105 
 
 guilty, though I should demise myself for doing 
 so all the while. 
 
 It is all one to me whether I live or die ; so 
 I may as well ^eak out my mind. This talk 
 of yours about His punishing the guilty is non- 
 sense. He destroys the guilty and the guiltless 
 alike. If there is any difference, the guilty have 
 the best of it. The earth seems to ie given over 
 into the hands of the vncked. At the calamities 
 of the righteous, God only laughs. My 
 
 days are swifter than a courier, and they will soon 
 he over; so that there will be no time for compen- 
 sation. Besides, I know Thou unit not clear me. 
 Well, if I must be guilty, I must be. Thou hast 
 determined to have it so. Were I to wash myself 
 in snow-water and cleanse my hands in potash, 
 Thou woiddst thrust me into a ditch, and make 
 me so foul that my very garments would shrink 
 from contact with me. I am helpless. He says 
 I am guilty, and I cannot disprove it ; for He is 
 God, and I am only man. There is no arbiter to 
 come between us, no mediator to reconcile us and 
 explain us to one another. If there were, I would 
 speak and not be afraid : for I am innocent ; I 
 know no cause for fear. And speak 
 
 I wUl, even a^ U is. I can hut lose the life which 
 I loathe. In the bitterness of my soul I will say 
 
io6 Job: Chaps, iv.-x. 
 
 unto God, Show me wherefore Thou contendest with 
 me. Is it becoming in Thee to oppress the weak, 
 to give prosperity to the wicked, to demise the very 
 work of Thine own hands ? Can it he that Thou 
 hast only human eyesight, that Thou hast been 
 misled as to m/y real character ? Or is it that 
 Thy days are numbered, and that Thou hastenest 
 to glut Thine anger before Thou art no more? 
 Thou knowest I am not guilty, yet Thou inventest 
 sins of which to accuse me. Thy hands fashioned 
 me, yet now Thou art destroying me. Oh rememher 
 how soon I must return to dust! Orux thou 
 didst grant me favour. Once Thou didst watch 
 over me and guard me. But Thou must have 
 been hiding malice in ThAne heart all the time. 
 Thou wast preserving me only to amuse Thyself 
 with my anguish. That this was Thy purpose, I 
 know. It mattered not whether I was innocent or 
 guilty. Sad I done wickedly. Thou wouldst have 
 taken vengeance on me. Had I been righieous. 
 Thou wouldst have been doubly angry. Thou 
 wouldst not have permitted me to hold up my 
 head; Thou wouldst have suborned witnesses to 
 convict me; Thou wouldst have proved Thyself 
 omnipotent for my discomfiture. Oh to 
 
 be as though I had not been ! Would thai I had 
 been carried from the womh to the grave ! But 
 
yob: Chaps, iv.-x. 107 
 
 as it is, forbear ! Get Thee gone ! Leave me 
 alone, that I may know some little comfort, before 
 I go away into the land from which there is no 
 return — that land of disorder and of gloom, where 
 the very light is darkness. 
 
 In this state of mind we must leave him for 
 the present. The burden of his complaint, you 
 will have noticed, has been twofold. He laments, 
 first, that God, by so grievously afflicting him, has 
 virtually declared him to be pre-eminently sin- 
 ful; and secondly, that his little span of life 
 is being wasted in anguish, when it is the only 
 life he will have. He has spoken words which 
 fall little, if at all, short of blasphemy. But 
 these words were the natural product of his ; 
 creed. The theology in which he and his three 
 friends had been instructed, contained at least 
 two seriously erroneous doctrines. It taught 
 that suffering was an invariable proof of the ( 
 divine displeasure; and it also taught that 
 human life ended with the grave. It is in the 
 light, or rather in the darkness, of these doc- 
 trines, that Job has hitherto been studying his 
 experience. No wonder he despairs. 
 
io8 
 
 Job. 
 IV. 
 
 CHAPTERS XI.-XVII. 
 
 TT is now Zophar's turn to speak. He has 
 -*- only the same doctrine to preach as Eliphaz 
 and Bildad, and he is a vastly inferior preacher. 
 But, with the self-conceit natural to an ignorant 
 man, he seems to think that he alone can satis- 
 factorily answer Job's arguments. 
 
 Yowr hoastfwl icibblings about your purity shall 
 not go unanswered. Would that God might ap- 
 pear to you as you have wished ! He would soon 
 make you conscious of your guilt. You would 
 then see that your punishment was less than you 
 deserved. What do you know about 
 
 God ? Are you acquainted with the heights and 
 depths and lengths and breadths of the divine 
 
yob: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 109 
 
 perfection? Iniquity cannot he hid from Him, 
 a'nd natMing can hinder Him from jpunishing it. 
 He sees evil even when He seems to see it not. A 
 man may be as stupid and intractable as a wild 
 ass's colt, but Gqd can make him wise. Do you, 
 therefore, draw near to God, having first put 
 away your iniquity. Then you will once msre 
 be able to hold up your head. The light of pros- 
 perity will dawn upon you, arid become brighter 
 than the glory of noon. Peace and hope and 
 safety will be yours, and many will pay court 
 to you. But as for the wicked, they shall perish. 
 Their hope is as fleeting as the sigh of an expiring 
 man. 
 
 Job in his reply gives a long harangue on 
 the power of God. He wishes his friends to 
 see that he can be as eloquent on this subject 
 as they can; but in opposition to them he 
 maintains that Providence, so far from being 
 strictly retributive, is arbitrary, or at any rate 
 inexplicable, in its action. He declares that 
 he will summon his divine Adversaiy to a 
 formal trial ; and, as though the trial had been 
 already instituted, he demands to be informed 
 of what he is accused. But failing to elicit any 
 response, he relapses again into his old despond- 
 ency. For a moment it occurs to him that there 
 
no Job: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 
 
 may be a future life: but he dismisses the 
 thought as a vain delusion. 
 
 No doubt hut ye are the people, and wisdom 
 vnll die unth you. Wliy, you have 
 
 been uttering truisms. I know l^iese things, and 
 every one knows them as well as you. 
 To think that I should have become a laughing- 
 stock to my friends, — /, the just, the innocent, the 
 religious man, a laughing-stock ! It is the way of 
 the world to treat the unfortunate with contempt. 
 But as for the wicked, they are 
 never unfortvmate. Tranquil are the tents of the 
 spoilers. Those who recognise no God but their 
 fist are always prosperous. What 
 
 you say about the power of God is true enough, 
 but not original. Any one may see the hand of 
 Jehovah in bird and beast and fish, no less than 
 in the human race. From Him every creature 
 derives its breath. You have been quot- 
 
 ing proverbs, but proverbs are not to be accepted 
 indiscriminately. We must inquire if they agree 
 with facts. No doubt wisdom is to be looked for 
 in the aged, but in its perfection it exists only in 
 God. If we would be wise, we must examine His 
 ways for ourselves; and when we eacamine them, 
 what do we find ? Why this, that they are alto- 
 gether inexplicable. What He destroys is never 
 
Job : Chaps, xi.-xvii. 1 1 1 
 
 repaired. From His prison-house there is no 
 deliverance. He sends on men now a deluge, and 
 now a drought. With Him undovhtedly is wisdom 
 and strength; but that is all we can say. We 
 cannot see the reason of His actions. Men are 
 deceived, and deceive one another, because He vnll 
 have it so. Kings and priests, senators and judges. 
 He carries away into captivity. The strong He 
 makes weak, the wise foolish, the eloquent speechless; 
 upon the nobles He pours contempt; the most 
 cherished secrets He brings to light. At one time 
 He exalts a nation ; at another time He destroys 
 it. At one time He makes it prosperous; at 
 another He plunges it into adversity. The leaders 
 of the people He deprives of their leadership, and 
 they find themselves wandering in a pathless waste, 
 groping about in darkness, staggering like drunken 
 men. This is the result of my experience. 
 Yov, have only been patching up old saws; and 
 a bungling piece of patchwork you have made of 
 it ! The wisest thing you could do would be to 
 hold your tongue. My answer to you is this: 
 You do not believe what you say. You say it 
 because you think it is the correct thing to say. 
 You have been telling lies for God. You have 
 been, playing the part of sycophants. But He 
 will not be imposed on by your flattering speeches. 
 
1 1 2 y^ob : Chaps, xi.-xvii. 
 
 He, does not want your dishonest support. He 
 will only punish you for your pains. You have 
 threatened me with His appearing. But what if 
 He appears against YOU ? Your old saws will 
 not avail you then. Be silent. 
 
 Come what will, I am determined to speak out. 
 He may slay me — He very likely will, hut I will 
 defend myself. This surely should speak for my 
 acquittal. A sinner would not dare to come before 
 Him. I am ready to begin pleading. I have set 
 my cause in order. I know that I have right on 
 my side. Where is the man that can bring any 
 accusation against me ? There is no such man. 
 If there were, I should die, of shame. But Thou 
 must grant me two conditions, God, or the trial 
 will not be a fair one. Remove my pain, so that 
 I may think ; and divest Thyself of Thy Majesty, 
 so that I be not affrighted. Then I am ready to 
 be either plaintiff or defendant. Do Thou acame, 
 and I will answer. Or let me speak, and do Thou 
 respond. Art Thou silent ? Then I 
 
 must open the case for myself. How many are my 
 iniquities ? Show me my transgressions. 
 Thou mukest no reply? Why dost Thou hide 
 Thy face and treat me as a foe ? Is Thy eonditct 
 worthy of Thee ? I am feMe as a driven leaf. 
 Wliy dost Thou hunt me ? The sins that I com- 
 
yob: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 113 
 
 mitted in my early years, when I knew no letter, 
 have been long since put aside. And yet Thou 
 dost punish me for them with this hitter punish- 
 ment, confining me to the ash-heap, where I lie 
 wasting away. And mine is no isolated 
 
 case. Man that is horn of woman inherits all her 
 frailty. He lives hut a few days, and even those 
 are full of trouble. He is fragile as a flower, 
 and fleeting as a shadow. Oan it he right that 
 a creature so frail and evanescent, so loaded with 
 sorrows, should he dogged with an incessant and 
 suspicious vigilance, and called to a stern, judicial 
 account ? Canst Thou expect a clean thing to 
 come out of an unclean? Thou hast ordained 
 man's days to he few and evil. Thou hast given 
 him hut a paltry nature, of which hut little can 
 he made. Canst Thou not let him alone in his 
 misery, till the days of his servitude are over ? 
 Man is the most miserable object in the world. 
 Even a tree may hope to renew its life from time 
 to time ; hut man giveth up the ghost, and where 
 is he ? When he lieth down, he riseth nevermore. 
 Bat may it not be that mun shall rise again ? 
 Oh that Thou wouldst keep me in the under-world 
 until Thy wrath be past ! Perchance man rtiay 
 live even after he has died. Oh that Thou wouldst 
 appoint some time in that future life for the res- 
 
 H 
 
114 yob: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 
 
 toratim of Thy favour ! If only I had such a 
 hope, I would wait patiently all through the days 
 of my servitude. Surely it will he so. Thou 
 must yearn towards the work of Thine own hands. 
 But no ; instead of this yearning 
 towards me, Thou art dogging my steps, watching 
 eagerly to catch me in sin, treasuring up against 
 me my every slip. As water wears down the 
 stone, as floods wash away the soil, as everything 
 in nature changes and passes away, so dost Thou 
 destroy the hope of man. Thou prevailest against 
 him, and disfigurest him. Thou bringest him into 
 such a condition that he cares no longer for his 
 nearest Join. He can think only of himself and 
 of his pain. 
 
 So ends the first part of the discussion. In 
 the second, the friends no longer try to prove 
 that the good always receive good from God, 
 They content themselves with reaffirming that 
 the evil always receive evil. They begin to 
 treat Job as a hardened sinner for whom there 
 can be no hope. They do not now urge him to 
 repent. Job, on the contrary, is making progress 
 faith-wards. At times he is as sad as ever, as 
 impatient of the truisms of his friends, as fierce 
 in resenting the wrong done him by God and 
 man. But on the whole he is calmer than 
 
yob : Chaps, xi.-xvii. 1 1 5 
 
 before : he begins to hope ; sometimes he does 
 more than hope — he feels certain that all will 
 by-and-by be well. Of this we shall meet a 
 remarkable illustration in the next sermon. 
 
 Eliphaz opens the second part of the discus- 
 sion as he did the first. He is still less incon- 
 siderate than the other two. But even he is by 
 this time very wroth. He tells Job that he is 
 self-condemned — condemned by his own impious 
 language ; and then he paints a sombre picture 
 of the doom that awaits the wicked. Having 
 no more visions to relate, he now falls back, like 
 Bildad, upon tradition. 
 
 Ycni say you are as wise as we are ; iut you do 
 not talk like a wise man. Your arguments prove 
 nothing. Your words are as meaningless as the 
 wind. When a man, once noted for piety like 
 yourself, behaves in this way, he brings religion 
 into contempt. Your own mouth convicts you, for 
 you say that God is unjust. Pray, are you the 
 oldest member of the hwman race ? Bo you belong 
 to the Privy Council of the Almighty ? Has no 
 one any wisdom but yourself? What do you 
 know that we do Tiot know ? Why, on our side 
 are hoary -headed men, older than your father. 
 With delicacy and consideration we have offered 
 you the consolations of God, but you have spurned 
 
ii6 Job: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 
 
 them. How is it thM you are so carried away 
 with passion, as to speak blasphemy ? You talk 
 about your sinlessness. Why, the very angels are 
 not faultless ; the heavens are impure in the sight 
 of God: how, then, can man be pure? Man 
 drinheth in iniquity like water ; he is altogether 
 loathsome and unclean. Listen to me, 
 
 and I will give you the result of my experience. 
 What I tell you is supported by the authority 
 of my ancestors, who were never corrupted by 
 heathen superstitions. As long as the wicked lives, 
 he suffers torment and is in slavery. Terrible 
 sounds are ever in his ear. Even in times of 
 peace the spoiler falls upon him. He is marked 
 out for the sword. He. cannot tell where he may 
 find bread to eat. He is in constant dread, until 
 at la^st he is destroyed. He set himself against 
 God, and proudly dared the Almighty's curse : 
 but he shall never be rich. Any wealth he may 
 acquire soon passes away. He has no hope of 
 ever escaping from the darkness that envelops 
 him; nay, he knows that a yet darker day is 
 coming. The only light he will ever see is the fire 
 that shall consume his children. He himself wUl 
 be destroyed by the breath of God's mouth. Fool 
 that he is, let him expect nothing but evil as a 
 reward for his deeds ! He shall die prevMturely, 
 
yob : Chaps, xi.-xvii. 1 1 7 
 
 his children having perished be/ore him. The 
 punishment of his doings is mischief, disappoint- 
 ment, ruin. 
 
 Job begins to reply to Eliphaz with a few 
 sarcastic personalities, but soon turns to God 
 in a passionate utterance of mingled complaint 
 and entreaty, interspersed by occasional flashes 
 of hope. 
 
 Tou are miserable comforters, all of you, with 
 your empty truisms. What can induce you to talk 
 as you do ? Suppose you were in my place, and I 
 were to string together maxims against you, and 
 shake my head in disapproval of you, and offer to 
 console you with heartless words, how would you 
 like it ? But ah me ! neither speech 
 
 nor silence can make much difference to my grief. 
 My strength is exhausted. I am shrivelled up. 
 My emaciation is a witness against me. God, like 
 a beast of prey, is pursuing me with glaring eyes 
 and gnmhing teeth. My friends are at His heels, 
 ready to devour me. He seizes me by the throat. 
 He shakes me and rends me in His fury, and then 
 flings me to the yelping pack. He has set me up 
 as a target : His arrows are flying all about me ; 
 they pierce to my inmost soul. He has stormed me 
 like a fortress, and laid me low in the very dust. 
 My eyes are red with weeping. The shadows 
 
ii8 yob: Chaps, xi.-xvii. 
 
 of death are gatheririg about me. And all this 
 when I have done no iniquity, when I have teen a 
 sincere worshipper of God. earth, 
 
 earth, that refuseth to drink the Hood of the inno- 
 cent, let my blood lie on thy breast, crying out in 
 my behalf until I be avenged! I feel that I have 
 a witness in heaven. I will turn from the friends 
 who mock me, and look up beseechingly unto God. 
 Though He is my Adversary, I will ask Him to be 
 my Arbiter — to right me even though He condemn 
 Himself — to declare me innocent before my fellows. 
 But it must be quickly done ; for in a few short 
 years I shall have reached the end of that path 
 along which no traveller returns. My life is fast 
 ebbing away. There remains for me nothing but 
 the grave and the mockers who perpetually pravoke 
 me. God, wilt Thou not give me some present 
 pledge of my future justification ? Wilt Thou 
 not bind Thyself to appear for me ? They are so 
 heartless and foolish. Thou wilt never give the vic- 
 tory to them ! They have been untrue to the duties 
 of friendship ; and they or their children must 
 suffer for it. As for me, I am become 
 
 a byword, an object of scorn, among men. My 
 eye is dim with grief. My lirribs are wasted into 
 shadows. Good men are astonished and indignant 
 at the treaiment I am receiving. Nevertheless I 
 
Job: Chaps, xi.-xvii. iig 
 
 ayn righteous. I will hold on my way, amd in 
 the end I shall find support. Do 
 
 not go away, my friends. Return to your argu- 
 ments. I am ready for you. There is not a wise 
 man among yov,. My days are run 
 
 out, my most cherished purposes are frustrated. 
 You would try and persuade me that light may 
 arise out of darkness. But it cannot he. If I 
 have any hope, it is to reach my home in Sades. 
 I have grown so familiar with the thought of 
 death, that I say to the grave, Thou art my 
 father ; and to the worms. Ye are my sisters. 
 Death is my only hope; and it will be realised 
 when I mingle with the dust. 
 
 Once again we must leave Job in the very- 
 depths of his divine despair. But it is, you will 
 observe, a (£mwe_despair. It is caused by the 
 conviction that some unaccountable misunder- 
 standing has arisen between himself and God. 
 Acutely as he feels his sufferings, he declares 
 that he could bear them all with patience, if 
 only he had the most distant hope of this mis- 
 understanding being removed. Even when his 
 words come nearest to blasphemy, we can detect 
 in his heart the unspoken cry, — " Whom have 
 I in heaven ' but Thee ? and there is none upon 
 earth that I desire besides Thee." 
 
I20 
 
 Job. 
 
 V. 
 
 CHAPTERS XVIII. -XXI. 
 
 TT7E have now reached Bildad's second speech. 
 He gives a graphic account of the punish- 
 ment which overtakes the sinner, working into 
 his description with cruel ingenuity, some of the 
 very calamities which had fallen upon Job. 
 
 Bow long will you continue to speak without 
 having anything to say ? What business have you 
 to treat us as though we were unreasoning brutes ? 
 You talk of God rending you in His anger, but it 
 is you who are rending yourself with your furious 
 passion. What is the good of it ? The divine laws 
 are unulterdble. Do you suppose they are going 
 to be set aside, that you may escape the punishment 
 of your sins ? TJie prosperity of 
 
 the wicked does not last. His ambitious schemes 
 
Job : Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 1 2 1 
 
 only end in ruin. He is taken in his own snares. 
 Sis footsteps are dogged hy alarms. Destruction 
 lies in wait, ready to devour him. Leprosy, the 
 first-horn of death, eats away his limbs. He is 
 torn from his home and dragged before the King 
 of Terrors. He is hunted out of the world and 
 thrust into darkness. Strangers dwell in his tent. 
 His children are destroyed by brimstone. He 
 leaves no survivors behind him. His very name 
 is forgotten in the land; or, if remembered, it 
 will only be with horror and disgust. Such is 
 the doom of him who knows not God. 
 
 Job in his next speecli declares, more emphat- 
 ically than ever, that his sufferings are not 
 reconcilable with any known principle of divine 
 government. He makes one final appeal to his 
 listener's pity — an appeal of heartrending pathos. 
 But they offer no response. As they sit beside 
 him in grim silence, he feels more keenly than 
 ever his loneliness and misery. It was well 
 that they did not respond ; for only after their 
 persistent cruelty had made him supremely con- 
 scious of the magnitude of his woe, did he 
 gain a belief in the resurrection of the dead. 
 He once dismissed the idea of a future life as 
 a delusion. But at last he sees it in a new 
 light; it appears to him to be a necessary 
 
122 Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 
 
 truth. He, sitting there on his ash-heap, rotting 
 away in agony ; his friends, whose lives had 
 certainly not been better than his own, looking 
 down upon him with self-complacency and con- 
 tempt, — what possible justification, what conceiv- 
 able explanation of this could there be, but the 
 fact that there was another life, in which such 
 inequalities would be corrected ? So certain 
 does he now feel in regard to the resurrection, 
 that, before declaring his belief in it, he caUs 
 special attention to what he is about to say, 
 implying that it is not the transitory feeling 
 of the moment, but a profound and unalterable 
 conviction. 
 
 How long will you rack my soul with your 
 words ? You ham shamelessly overwhelmed me 
 with reproaches. You have exhausted every form of 
 insult. If I had sinned, you need not have troubled 
 yourselves, for you. would not he answerable for it. 
 But if you must meddle with me, let me tell you, 
 I have NOT sinned. T have not brought my misery 
 on myself, like your " wicked man." I am not 
 taken in my own snares. It is God who has 
 fking His net about me; and in doing so. He 
 has treated me wrongfully. I protest against the 
 wrong, but I am not answered. I cry aloud, hut 
 I get no justice. He has blocked up my way so 
 
yob : Chaps, xviii. -xxi. 1 2 3 
 
 that I cannot pass. Se has surrounded me with 
 darkness. He has stripped me of my honour, and 
 taken the crown from my head. All is over. 
 Even of my hope He has hereft me. He is so 
 enraged that He is sending forth His troops in 
 lattle array against me. He has made me such 
 an object of loathing and contempt thai my neigh- 
 bours will have nothing to do with me. My kins- 
 men stand aloof from me. My acqimintance have 
 forgotten me. My servants treat me as a stranger, 
 and will neither obey my commands nor listen to 
 my entreaties. I am become offensive even to my 
 wife. The very children despise and ridicule me. 
 My bosom friends abhor me. Those whom I loved 
 are turned against me. All that I had has been 
 taken away. I am reduced to the shadow of my 
 former self. Have pity on me, have 
 
 pity on me, ye my friends, for the hand of God 
 hath smitten me ! Are you not satisfied with 
 what I am already suffering ? Why must you 
 join with God in persecuting me ? 
 
 But stop. I see a great light. I should like 
 what I am about to say to be written down, to be 
 graven on the eternal rocks. I know that there 
 lives for me an Avenger, and that He will by-and- 
 by stand over my grave, and pronounce my cause 
 just. My body will be destroyed, but without it 
 
124 Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 
 
 I shall see God. Yes, I myself shall see Him. 
 Gome, happy day! As for you, 
 
 1 if you persist in persecuting me, beware of the 
 
 \ sword of my Avenger. 
 
 Zophar now speaks again. To a man like 
 \ him there is no sin so heinous as that of heresy. 
 Job had by this time clearly proved himself 
 heterodox. He did not receive the accepted 
 notions about suffering, and he was full of 
 new-fangled ideas of his own — as, for example, 
 this theory about a resurrection. And such a 
 heretic had ventured to threaten him — Zophar 
 — with the divine disapproval. No wonder the 
 foolish man was angry. And he thought, of 
 course, that he did well to be angry. " His 
 wrath was but the resentment of wounded pride, 
 but he mistook it for the inspiration of religious 
 zeal." The wicked man whom he now describes, 
 in whose portrait he intends that Job shoiild see 
 himself, is no ordinary sinner, but a very mon- 
 ster of iniquity. The penalties attached to such 
 extravagant wickedness Zophar proceeds to enu- 
 merate, in language the coarseness of which I 
 shall be obliged- to do him the injustice of 
 somewhat toning down. He begins in a con- 
 fused sort of way. He feels he must say some- 
 thing, but he hardly knows what. 
 
yob: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 125 
 
 / am burning to reply. I am ashamed at hav- 
 ing been sicbjected to such reproaches. I have an 
 answer in my head, if I could only bring it out. 
 Do not you know that from the 
 beginning of the world, the triumph of the wicked 
 has only endured but for a moment ? Though in 
 his pride he exalts himself to the very heavens, he 
 shall be cast aside like the vilest refuse. He shall 
 pass away like a dream, perishing completely as if 
 he had never been. He will be compelled to restore 
 his Ul-gatten gains. His children will have to beg 
 from those whom he once impoverished. He shall 
 go to the grave in his youthful vigour. As a 
 gourmand dallies with a dainty morsel, which 
 when it is swallowed turns to poison within him, 
 so he voluptuously lingers over his sin, which in 
 its effects wUl be gall and wormwood. The days 
 of his luxury will come to an end. His dishonest 
 gains he will have to disgorge. He ill-treated 
 and despoiled the poor; his greed knew no bounds; 
 n/}thing was safe from it. But his enjoyment 
 shall not endure. In the fulness of his abundance 
 he shall be straitened. Everything that can make 
 a man wretched shall come upon him. In the 
 midst of his gluttonous feasting he shall find him- 
 self surfeited — surfeited with fire and brimstone 
 from God. If he escapes one danger, it shall only 
 
126 Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 
 
 he to fall into another. He lives in constant 
 dread. Sis treasures are doomed to destruction. 
 Fire from above shall devour everything that he 
 hath. Heaven and earth shall unite to reveal his 
 iniquity and to ensure his ruin. He and his 
 children shall be utterly destroyed. This is the 
 portion appointed for the wicked by the Lord. 
 
 Job in his reply follows Zophar's speech 
 almost point by point, and shows that, generally 
 speaking, the wicked are not visited by any of 
 the punishments which Zophar has mentioned. 
 
 Let me at least have the consolation of answering 
 you. Give me a fair hearing ; and after that, 
 if you are not convinced, you may mode me as 
 much as you please. My complaint 
 
 is against God, and I have good ground to make it. 
 If you would but look at me, you must be struck 
 dumb with astonishment. Even as I think of it I 
 tremble. Why is it that the wicked 
 
 live on to old age and acquire power? Their 
 homes are free from fear. Their children are 
 established prosperously around them. They are 
 visited by no chastisement from God. Their flocks 
 thrive and multiply. Their children may be seen 
 in troops, dancing for joy. Their days pass away 
 in mirth. Even when death comes, it comes kindly 
 and suddenly. Yet they have been saying all their 
 
Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 127 
 
 lives, " Depart from us, God, for we do not care 
 to know Thee; what is the use of serving the 
 Almighty ? " Their pro^erity comes I 
 
 know not whence; hut however it comes, I would 
 have none of it. Far from me he the devices of the 
 wicked. How seldom is the pros- 
 
 perity of the wicked cut short ! How seldom does 
 God apportion them any calamity ! How seldom 
 does He hlast them with the destruction they deserve. 
 God, you will say, punishes the children for the in- 
 iquities of the fathers. But that is no punishment 
 at all. It is the sinner himself, and not his chil- 
 dren, who should drink the wrath of the Almighty. 
 What cares the wicked man for his -posterity, 
 so long as he is allowed to live out his time in 
 peace ? In setting up your own 
 
 opinions against facts, you are virtually sitting 
 in judgment upon God. You say that retribution 
 should he exacted ; hwt it is not, not even in death. 
 Death is as uncial cts life. One man dies after 
 years of prosperity ; another in hitterness of soiil 
 hefore he has ever tasted good. They lie doum side 
 hy side in the dust, and the worms do their work 
 upon them hoth. I know what you 
 
 are hinting at, when you say that the uncked are 
 destroyed. But it is not true. It may have heen 
 so in your small eocperiemce. But ask those whQ 
 
128 Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 
 
 have, travelled, ask those, who have seen more of 
 the world, and they will tell you a different story. 
 They will tell you that many a proud and cruel 
 despot has altogether escaped calamity. He is so 
 powerful that no one dares accuse him, that no 
 one can retaliate on him. He is carried to the 
 tomb in pomp. A monument is erected in his 
 honowr. The clods of the valley lie softly upon 
 him. His success induces many to follow him 
 along the same flowery, well-trodden path of sin. 
 Your arguments are fallacious, 
 and your consolations are just as worthless. 
 
 So ends the second part of the discussion. 
 The more the friends persist in asserting their 
 doctrine that the wicked only suffer, and that 
 they suffer in proportion to their wickedness, 
 the clearer does it become to Job that the doc- 
 trine is contradicted by experience. But they 
 remain blind to the contradiction. In most 
 debates three out of four debaters argue, not for 
 truth, but for victory. So it was here. How 
 completely the minds of the three were closed 
 against new ideas, is curiously illustrated by the 
 fact that they take no notice of Job's assertion 
 regarding a future life. They pass it by as 
 unworthy of comment. They had never before 
 heard any mention of such a doctrine ; and to 
 
Job: Chaps. xviii.-xxL 129 
 
 minds so constituted it would therefore seem 
 but the wandering of a diseased imagination. 
 
 I had better, perhaps, ask you specially to 
 notice exactly what it was that Job said upon 
 this subject. The passage in our Authorised 
 Version is very much mistranslated. In my 
 paraphrase of his speech I gave you his mean- 
 ing in modern English. A more literal trans- 
 lation of the Hebrew would be this : " I know 
 that my Avenger liveth, and He wiU stand at 
 last over my dust ; yea, after my skin, when my 
 body is destroyed, without my flesh I shall see 
 Him. I shall see Him for myself, through my 
 own eyes and not through those of another. 
 For that my heart pines away within me." 
 A Hebrew would understand by the Avenger 
 the nearest relative of the deceased, whose busi- 
 ness it was to take cognisance of any wrongs 
 that had been done to his departed kinsman. 
 Job's idea then is, that there will come a time 
 when God, who seems now to have forsaken him, 
 will act the part of this avenging friend — that 
 the Almighty will one day stand solemnly over 
 his grave and conclusively vindicate his character. 
 Further, Job believes that he himself will be 
 then alive : though his flesh will have seen cor- 
 ruption, yet with the eyes of a spiritual body he 
 I 
 
I30 Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 
 
 ■will behold his divine Avenger. It was a mar- 
 vellous anticipation of St Paul's teaching, that 
 the death of the natural, is the birth of the 
 spiritual, body. "Flesh and blood cannot in- 
 herit the kingdom of God." " Thou, sowest not 
 the body that shall be. . . .It is sown 
 a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body." 
 " We know that if our earthly house of this 
 tabernacle [our physical body] were dissolved, 
 we have a building of God, an house not made 
 with hands [a spiritual body], eternal in the 
 heavens." 
 
 While, then, the friends are gaining nothing by 
 the discussion. Job has already gained much ; 
 he has won in fact " the blessed hope of ever- 
 lasting life." His experience, so far, is beauti- 
 fully expressed by some lines of Mr Greg's : — 
 
 "Around my path life's mysteries 
 Their deepening shadows throw ; 
 And as I gaze and ponder, 
 They dark and darker grow. 
 
 Yet still, amid the darkness, 
 
 I feel the light is near ; 
 And in the awful silence 
 
 God's voice I seem to hear. 
 
 But I hear it as the thunder. 
 
 Or the murmuring of the sea ; 
 The secret it is telling, — 
 
 But it tells it not to me. 
 
Job: Chaps, xviii.-xxi. 131 
 
 Then I ask the wise and learned 
 
 If they the thing can show ; 
 But the longer they discourse thereon, 
 
 The less I seem to know. 
 
 So I seek again the silence, 
 
 And the lonely darkness too ; 
 They teach me deeper lessons 
 
 Of the Holy, Vast, and True. 
 
 And I hear a voice ahove me 
 Which says, — ' Wait, trust, and pray ; 
 
 The night will soon be over, 
 And light will come with day.' 
 
 To Him I yield my spirit. 
 
 On Him I lay my load : \ 
 
 Fear ends with death ; beyond it 
 I nothing see but God." ! 
 
Job. 
 
 VI. 
 
 CHAPTERS XXII. -XXVIII. 
 
 TXTE have now reached the third and last part 
 of the discussion. Eliphaz is by this 
 time so very angry as to be scarcely distinguish- 
 able from poor Zophar. He accuses his suffering 
 friend of the most vulgar and brutal crimes. At 
 the close of his speech, however, he seems to 
 feel some little compunction, for he once more 
 promises the divine forgiveness to Job if only 
 he will repent. 
 
 Qod gains nothmg ly the goodness of the good. 
 He loses nothing by the badness of the had. Sis 
 motives in punishing men must be disinterested^ 
 and therefore just. You have summoned Him to 
 your bar but He will not condescend to argue with 
 you. Nor is there any need. Your iniquities 
 
yob: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 133 
 
 are great and endless. You have distrained the 
 poor, wh&n you yourself were well off. Yon have 
 stripped the beggar of his raiment. You have 
 withheld bread from the famishing, and water 
 from the faint. You have acted as if no one hit 
 your strong proud self had any business in the 
 land. You gave no assistance to the widow ; and 
 you wrested from the orphans their means of 
 support. This is why you are beset with dangers 
 and alarms. This is the cause of the mental 
 darkness which envelops you, and the flood of 
 misery which is overwhelming you. Do you think 
 God is so eocalted that He cannot see men's doings ? 
 Do you suppose that, as He dwells above the clouds, 
 the sinner is hidden from His view ? It is an 
 ancient path you are treading, — the path of the 
 men of sin who were swept away prematurely by 
 the Deluge. This was their punishment for say- 
 ing, " What is the use of serving the Almighty ? " 
 Suddenly their firm foundation became a flowing 
 stream. They had been for a time in great pros- 
 perity ; — but far from me be the devices by which 
 such prosperity is attained ! We righteous rejoice 
 when we see the discomfiture of our adversaries — 
 the wicked. We laugh when tliey and their sub- 
 stanM are destroyed. 
 
 Make friends now with God, and then peace 
 
1 34 y^^b : Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 
 
 and, •prosperity will retwm to ycni. Listen to His 
 precepts, and cherish them in your heart. Give 
 up your sin,, and you will he restored. Learn 
 to regard gold as dross, and God will become 
 your treasure. You will be able to hold up yowr 
 head before the Almighty. He will no longer be 
 deaf to your prayers. Yowr enterprises will all 
 be aitended with success. Your votive offerings 
 mil be accepted. The light of prosperity will ever 
 shine upon your path. Nay, you will be able, by 
 quoting from, your own experience, to cheer those 
 who are cast down. Your prayer will prevail, 
 even for those who are not without sin. 
 
 Job in his reply complains that God is hid- 
 ing Himself from him — that he hides , Himself 
 from the race. He points out how large classes 
 of men live, through no fault of their own, in 
 the most abject misery and servitude, while their 
 oppressors have a good time of it and go down 
 to the grave in peace. Yet God never interferes. 
 So far from retribution being regular, as the 
 friends say, it would seem as if there were no 
 such thing as Providence. 
 
 / will still persist in my complaint. Loud and 
 bitter as it is, it does not express my anguish. 
 Oh that I knew where I might fmd Him ! I 
 would press even to His throne. I would lay my 
 
yob: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 135 
 
 case hefore Him, aTid pour out argument upon 
 argument ; and then I should hear what He had 
 to say againM me. Instead of contending with 
 me in the greatness of His strength, He would 
 listen to tne ; and, as I am upright, I should he 
 acquitted once for all hy my Judge. But I do 
 not know where to find Him. Behold, I go 
 towards the east, but He is not there ; and west- 
 ward, but I cannot perceive Him: towards the 
 north, where He is working, but I cannot see 
 Him ; and southwards He concealeth Himself, so 
 that I cannot find Him. If He would try me, I 
 should corns forth as gold. I have walked, God 
 knows, in His way. I have obeyed His command- 
 ments. I have "preferred His will to my own. 
 But He is not to be turned from His purpose. 
 What He has decreed for me He will carry out. 
 It is His UfSual way. Therefore I am trovhled 
 at His presence. When I think of His decrees, I 
 am afraid. I am unmanned and rendered speech- 
 less, not by my sufferings, but hy the thought that 
 they have been inflicted on me by Ood. It is He 
 who has filled me with confusion. 
 
 Why does not God appoint days of judgment, 
 so that those who believe in Him might SEE some- 
 thing of His providence ? The wicked steal their 
 neighbours' possessions, and rob even the widow 
 
136 Job: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 
 
 and the fatherless, reducing them to such poverty 
 that they have to eat roots and herbs, like the wild 
 asses of the desert. Or if they are taken on to the 
 estates as serfs, not so much as clothes and shelter 
 are given them for wages ; and they are drenched 
 by the winter storm, unless they can find a cleft of 
 the rock in which to hide themselves. The oppres- 
 sors will steal the very infant at the breast and sell 
 it into slavery. There is none so poor as not to be 
 robbed by them. Their slaves carry their corn, but 
 are left to hunger; and tread the wine-vats, but die 
 of thirst. The cities too, like the country, are full 
 of groaning slaves ; and mingled with their groans, 
 you may hear the cry of wounded soldiers, whose 
 lives the oppressors have flung away. Yet God 
 heedeth Twt their wrongs ! Then there is another 
 class of evil-doers, such as the murderer, the thief, 
 the adulterer. To all of these the light is hateful. 
 They shut themselves up in the daytime, but come 
 forth in the dark to their housebreaking work. 
 Night has no terrors for them, but they are as 
 frightened of the dawn as of the shadow of death. 
 It mny be that the heritage of such men is cursed, 
 but they themselves glide quietly down the stream 
 of life. They have passed away before the curse 
 comes into effect. They are cut off by no terrible 
 catastrophe. Death removes them in as gentle a 
 
yob: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 137 
 
 manner as the snow is melted by the sun. They 
 plundered the vei-y widows, and God saw them 
 doing it, hut none the less He sustained and pro- 
 tected them. They lived in ease, they were for- 
 tunate, they died in a ripe old age. Which of 
 you can say that this is not so ? 
 
 Bildad's third and last speech is perhaps his 
 best. It is the least unkind, the least irrelevant, 
 and the shortest. He no longer attempts to 
 prove his old thesis. He no longer recriminates 
 his friend. He merely restates a doctrine fre- 
 quently mentioned by Eliphaz — the doctrine, 
 viz., of the infinite distance between God and 
 man, and the consequent impurity of the latter. 
 This has, of course, nothing to do with the main 
 argument, as to whether great suffering be a sign 
 of great sin. But it is relevant to Job's asser- 
 tion that he is sure of a complete acquittal. 
 
 With God is absolute dominion. He r^ileth the 
 multitude of the heavenly host ; and by His rule 
 they have peace. His glory shines through them 
 all. Hven the moon's silver sheen appears soiled 
 in His eyes. The very stars to Him seem impure. 
 How, then, can that worm — man — be pure ? 
 
 The awesomeness of the divine Majesty, upon 
 which Bildad has thus briefly touched, has a 
 fascination for Job in his present mood ; and so,' 
 
138 yob: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 
 
 after a few personalities, he begins to discourse 
 upon it himself. 
 
 / aw, weak and in need of help ; hut do you 
 suppose thai your speeches are any good to me? 
 You have poured out a flood of words ; hut do you 
 think they contain instruction ? You give forth 
 your commonplaces as if they had come to you hy 
 special revelation. As for the ma- 
 
 jesty of God, yes, even in the under-world His 
 presence is felt. The very shades of the dead 
 writhe with fear when He looks at them. He 
 stretched out the vault of the heavens, and poised 
 the earth in space. He restrains the waters in 
 clouds as it were in vessels ; hut these very clouds 
 hide His throne from our view. He has sur- 
 rounded the earth by an ocean, which extends to 
 the confines of darkness. The mountains are con- 
 vulsed hy His anger, and they quake. He rouses 
 the sea into a storm ; and when it is fiercely rag- 
 ing. He smites it, in its pride, into a calm. When 
 the dragon swallows up the sun and so causes an 
 eclipse, God drives him away, and the heavens 
 again hecome bright. And these are BUT parts 
 of His ways. He reveals Himself to us in nature 
 gently, as hy a zephyr. But the thunder of His 
 omnipotence, deafening hy excess of sound, who can 
 hear ? 
 
yob: Chaps. xxii.'Xxviii. 139 
 
 Here the formal discussion may be said to 
 end. Chapters xxvii. to xxxi. constitute what is 
 generally called Job's soliloquy. He now rises 
 into a higher style of speech, called in the 
 English version parable, or, as it should rather 
 be, strain. This term is never used except for 
 discourse of a peculiarly elevated type. He 
 begins by modifying some of his previous state- 
 ments. He found, on reflection, that he had 
 not done sufficient justice to the arguments of 
 his friends, and that he had pushed the facts 
 which he adduced in opposition further than 
 they would legitimately go. He now admits 
 that, as a rule or at any rate very frequently, 
 the wicked are punished.^ But he feels this 
 wiU not explain the mystery of his own suffer- 
 ing. Great though his anguish be, it is not the 
 anguish of the wicked, for he can still cUng to 
 God. The fact is, as he proceeds to show in 
 
 1 Many critics say that verses 13-23 were really uttered by 
 Zophar. But they are not at all in Zophar's style. And it seems 
 more likely the poet would represent Job as admitting, after 
 he became calmer, that very often the wicked are overtaken 
 by visible punishments. Yon will observe, however, that 
 "the wicked" are here described as being altogether, hope- 
 lessly destroyed, in contrast to Job himself, who has a hope 
 after death (v. 8), and who is able, even in the midst of his 
 trouble, to call upon God and confidently invoke Him for 
 justice (9 and 10). 
 
140 Job: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 
 
 chapter xxviii., they had all been attempting to 
 solve an insoluble problem. Why he has been 
 called upon to suffer was, and must continue, a 
 mystery. He points out the limitation of human 
 faculties, and maintains that while man is cap- 
 able of marvellous attainments, there are yet 
 many matters of which he must always remain 
 ignorant. Men's achievements in mining opera- 
 tions seem to have struck him as the most 
 stupendous proof of human power. He gives, 
 therefore, an eloquent account of the miner's 
 work ; and then goes on to contrast man's 
 knowledge in such matters with his ignorance 
 in regard to the purposes of God. We may 
 dig into the earth, he says in effect, and ab- 
 stract its hidden treasure, but we cannot pene- 
 trate into the heart of God. " His ways are 
 past finding out." 
 
 As God liveth, though He hath denied me justice 
 and embittered my soul, while I live I will never 
 speak the thing that is Tiot true. Far he it from 
 me to alloto that your charges against me are just. 
 Till my last expiring breath I will maintain that 
 I am innocent. My conscience does not reproach 
 me. It is not I who am wicked, but my foes. 
 Wretched as is my lot, it is not the lot of a 
 sinner. However prosperous he may he in life. 
 
yob : Chaps. xxiL-xxviii. 1 4 1 
 
 he, has nothing to hope for after death, as 1 7iow 
 have. He does not, as I do, delight himself in 
 God, and confidently invoke Him for jvstice. God 
 does not hear his prayer a^ He will hear mine. 
 I will explain to you how the hand of God is 
 manifested upon the wicked; and yet you have 
 seen it for yourselves, so that there is no excuse for 
 your foolish speaking. This is the doom of the 
 wicked. He may have many children, but they 
 shall perish hy the sword or hy famine ; and if 
 any survive, they shall he destroyed hy a pestilence 
 — iy a pestilence so dreadful that not even their 
 widows will follow them, to the grave. He may 
 amass gold as though it were hit dust, and 
 raimervt a,s though it were of no more value than 
 mire, but eventually his property shall all be 
 enjoyed by the righteous. The house which he 
 builds himself is fragile and destructible as the 
 moth's. His riches vanish in a moment ; and in 
 the twinkling of an eye he himself is no more. 
 Terrors overtake him like a flood. Beaih shall 
 carry him away siidderdy like a whirlwind. God 
 shall shower evils upon him without sparing, and 
 men shall regard his discomfiture unth scornful 
 derision. 
 
 The cause of my suffering cannot be discovered. 
 It is one of the unsearchable secrets of God. Man 
 
142 Job: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 
 
 has found, the, veins of silver and the places where 
 gold-dust may he washed out. He has discovered 
 the iron-mines, and the rocks which contain copper. 
 In his mining operations he invades the kingdom 
 of darkness; and, passing through the subter- 
 ranean rocks, penetrates, as it were, into the 
 very Uackness of death. He sinks his shafts 
 deep down below all human }idbitaiions, and 
 carries on his work far away from the sound of 
 human footsteps. The under parts of the earth 
 he blasts by fire, in order to reach the precious 
 stones and the nuggets of gold. The path thither 
 neither the eagle nor the hawk have seen, neither 
 the lion nor the tiger have trodden. This is 
 man's prerogative. No difficulty can stop him. 
 He assaults the granite rock, and uproots the 
 mountain from its base. He dams vp the waters, 
 and turns them into channels of his own con- 
 triving. Bid what of wisdom? what of the 
 understanding which comprehends the divine pro- 
 cedure ? That is beyond man's faculties. He 
 knows not .her abode. She is not to be found 
 with mortals. The sea saith. She is not with 
 me. The abysmal depth which feeds the sea 
 replies, Nor with me. Neither silver nor gold 
 can buy her. Corals and crystal are not to be 
 mentioned in comparison with her. The topaz 
 
yob: Chaps, xxii.-xxviii. 143 
 
 of Ethifypia is inferior to her. The price of 
 wisdom is beyond pearls. Where, then, does wis- 
 dom dwell, and how shall she he obtained ? Her 
 cbbode is hidden from every living eye, yea, even 
 from the fowls of heaven with all their powers of 
 divination. Hades and death, which reveal so 
 many secrets, have to confess that they have heard 
 hut the va^guest rumours of her. He only who 
 can look to the ends of the earth, who can observe 
 all that is under heaven, God alone, has seen the 
 abode of wisdom. When He was weighing out 
 the winds and rrmism%ng the waters, giving a 
 law to the rain and traciiig a path for the 
 lightning, then He saw her and gave her a place 
 in His creation. But He perceived that she was 
 beyond the reach of human faculties. Man can 
 never comprehend things as God comprehends them. 
 We may attain to perfect goodness, but not to 
 ■perfect knowledge. To man, therefore. He said, — 
 " The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, 
 and to depart from evil is understanding'' 
 
144 
 
 Job. 
 
 VII. 
 
 CHAPTERS XXIX.-XXXI. 
 
 TN the last sermon, we broke off in the middle 
 -*- of Job's soliloquy. Having summed up the 
 debate, he now falls into a less argumentative 
 and a more pensive mood. He gives a pathetic 
 description of his former prosperity, full " of the 
 tender grace of a day that is dead." We learn 
 that he was the sheikh, not of a nomadic, but 
 of a settled clan ; that his estate was situated 
 in the suburbs of a well-ordered city ; that he 
 had held the office of a judge, and had been uni- 
 versally respected and beloved. After review- 
 ing his former life, he passes on to contrast with 
 it his present position. Instead of being rever- 
 enced by the highest, he was now despised by 
 the lowest. The base-born churls, to whom he 
 
yob: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 145 
 
 refers as the most virulent of his insulters, were 
 probably the aborigines of the Hauran, conquered 
 and dispossessed by the superior race of which 
 Job was chief. They would no doubt be glad 
 of an opportunity for revenging themselves, such 
 as was afforded by his present misery and help- 
 lessness. Job brings his soliloquy to a conclu- 
 sion by reasserting his uprightness, and giving 
 a minute description of the irmocency of his past 
 life. His conduct, we shall see, had fallen little, 
 if at all, short of that inculcated by the Sermon 
 on the Mount. 
 
 Oh that I were, as in months of old, in the days 
 lohen God kept guard over ine, when I walked in 
 the light of prosperity, which He caused to shine 
 ahov,t me, — in those golden days of the autumn of 
 my manhood, when the Almighty dwelt as a friend 
 in my tent, when my children were yet about me, 
 and nature showered her choicest blessings on me 
 with unstinted prodigality ! If I went into the 
 city, and sat in its gate as a Judge, young men 
 withdrew as being unworthy even to salute me, and 
 the grey - headed arose and remained staTiding. 
 Princes and nobles were silent when I unshed to 
 speak. All who had ever seen me or heard of me, 
 had something to say in my praise. For I 
 rescued the helpless out of their troubles, I filled 
 
 K 
 
146 Job: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 
 
 the widow's heart with joy, and I saved many 
 who were on the point of perishirig. I was so 
 upright a judge, that I seemed as it were to he 
 clothed with righteousness and crowned with equity. 
 I was eyes to the Hind, and feet to the lame, 
 and a father to the poor. T pleaded the cause of 
 the alien for whom no one cared, and I took the 
 prey out of the very teeth of the oppressor. So I 
 thought to myself, I shall lengthen out my days 
 like the phoenix, and when death comes at last, it 
 will find me still in my happy home. I thought 
 that I was like a tree abundantly nmirished by 
 water and by dew, and that my glory and strength 
 would be perennial. Men waited for my advice, 
 and never gainsaid it. My discourse seemed to 
 them as refreshing as harvest -showers. However 
 despondent they were, my smile was able to revive 
 them. I sat among them as their leader, as their 
 king, as one who comforteth mourners. 
 
 But now, instead of the old respect, they that 
 are yoimger than I insult me. The fathers of 
 those who mock me were thievish outcasts, whom I 
 would not have trusted a^ I did my dogs. And 
 they themselves are enervated creatures, having 
 not strength enxmgh to perform any decent work. 
 They are lean from famine ; their only bread is 
 what they can find in the desert-wastes. They 
 
Job: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 147 
 
 gnaw wild roots like beasts. They have heen 
 driven away from human society like the thieves 
 that they are. Base - horn wretches, they were 
 hounded out of the land. They dwell in gloomy 
 caverns, or herd together among the bushes. The 
 jargon that they talk sounds like the braying of 
 an ass. These are the men to whom I have be- 
 come a by-word — a theme for their comic songs ! 
 They shun me, and hold themselves aloof ; or if 
 by accident they come near me, they do not hesi- 
 tate to spit in my face. They insult me withovi 
 restraint. They set themselves studiously to destroy 
 me. They bring accusations against me — me, who 
 was once their judge ! They press upon me like 
 besieging troops, this rabble of outcasts, so helpless 
 but for evil. They cast up their works against 
 me ; they make wide breaches in my ramparts ; 
 they pour in through the ruins they have effected. 
 I am terrified at their violence. And 
 
 so my pristine honour is driven away, like a cloud 
 before the blast of the storm. 
 
 My soul is dissolved in complaint. Days of 
 misery hold me in their power, and will net de- 
 part. In the night my bones are pierced with 
 anguish, and my gnawing pains never sleep. My 
 torture clings to me like a closely fitting garment. 
 Thou hast humbled me to the dust. I cry to 
 
148 Job: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 
 
 Thee, and Thou answerest me not. I stand up to 
 attract Thy attention, and Thou unit not look at 
 me. Thou art changed. Thou hast become very 
 cruel to me, and dost press me hard in Thine 
 07nnijootence. Thou dost cause me to vanish like 
 a cloud before the storm. I know that Thou hast 
 determined to bring me to the grave — the. house 
 of assembly for all living. It is no 
 
 good praying when He raises His hand against 
 one. And yet I cannot help crying out, useless cos 
 my cry may be. What am I the 
 
 better for having sympathised with the lonfor- 
 tunate ? Instead of the bright prosperity which 
 I expected, the blackness of adversity has come 
 upon me. This is why my heart is so indignant. 
 My skin is blackened by the fever 
 of my leprosy ; it bums into my very bones. The 
 shrieks that I utter are shrill as those of a jackal. 
 The melody of my life has been changed into 
 grievous discord. 
 
 I was chaste even in my very looks ; for I knew 
 that God beheld all my ways, and would bring 
 calamity upon the sinner. If I have ever tv/rned 
 aside from the paths of rectitude at the bidding of 
 evil inclinations, if there is any stain of sin upon 
 my character, then let my harvests fail and let the 
 fruit of my labours be enjoyed by others. Were 
 
yob: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 149 
 
 God only to weigh me in an even balance, He would 
 discover my integrity. If my heart has ever been 
 ensnared hy my neighbour's wife, then may my own 
 wife become another's slave. It would have been 
 in me an infamous crime; I should never have 
 prospered ; it would have been my ruin. If I 
 had ever refused justice to my servants, I should 
 not be now demanding it before the bar of God : 
 for are we not the children of the same Father ? 
 If I have been unmindful of the necessities of the 
 poor ; if I have increased the widow's sorrow, in- 
 stead of helping her in her distress, as it was my 
 lifelong practice to do; if I have neglected the 
 fatherless, instead of treating him as a son ; if I 
 have seen any perish for lack of clothing, instead of 
 warming them with the fleece of my own flock; 
 if I have used my judicial authority to the detri- 
 ment of the orphan, — then may my shoulder fall 
 from its socket, and may my arm be broken at the 
 joint. I could not have done such things, for the 
 fear of the Lord was ever before me. If I have 
 set my affections upon gold, and exulted in the great- 
 ness of my wealth ; if I have dishonoured God by 
 kissing my hand to the sun or to the moon ; if I 
 have cursed my enemies, or even rejoiced in their 
 adversity; if I have not opened my doors to all 
 comers ; — the men of my household will testify to 
 
ISO Job: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 
 
 my hospitality; if, like so rtmny, I have been guilty 
 of sins which I kept secret, for fear of losing the 
 
 esteem of my inferiors and iny peers : Oh that 
 
 there was one who would hear me ! I present my 
 written vindication to my Almighty Adversary. 
 Oh that He, in return, would write out my indict- 
 ment ! I would njot conceal it, for there would he 
 no fear of its revealing my shame. I would wear 
 it as a badge of honour, as a symbol of victory. 
 I would tell Him all my doings. I would hide 
 nothing from Him. I would come before Him, not 
 as a guilty sinner, but with the pride and dignity of 
 
 a prince : If I have been guilty of any griev- 
 
 mis sin ; if, for example, my land cries out against 
 me that I have wrongfully possessed myself of it, 
 if it weeps for its rightful lord, if its fruits have 
 come to me by robbery or murder, — then in future 
 let thistles spring up instead of wheat, and instead 
 of barley noisome weeds. 
 
 So ends the soliloquy. Here follows in our 
 version, the speech of Elihu. But those best 
 able to judge are agreed, that this speech did 
 not belong to the Book of Job as it came from 
 the hands of the author. The chief arguments 
 against its genuineness are the following. 1. 
 Elihu's speech destroys the connection between 
 Job's last remarks in the soliloquy and the 
 
yob : Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 1 5 1 
 
 speech of Jehovah. The latter is introduced 
 with the words, — " The Lord answered Job," 
 and this implies that Job had just been speak- 
 ing. 2. Elihu's speech weakens the speech of 
 Jehovah, inasmuch as it anticipates the appeal 
 to the divine power and wisdom, upon which so 
 much stress is there laid. 3. It is inconsistent 
 with the speech of Jehovah, for it professes to 
 give a logical solution of the mystery of suffer- 
 ing. 4. The language and style of Elihu's 
 speech differ greatly from those which we find 
 in the rest of the poem. It must have been 
 written, according to Dr Samuel Davidson — 
 who is perhaps the highest authority on the 
 subject — at least a hundred years later than 
 the original work. 
 
 The Eev. Samuel Cox, to whose book I am 
 indebted for many useful suggestions in the pre- 
 paration of these sermons, has made an eloquent 
 defence of the speech. His strongest reason, 
 however, for believing in its genuineness is, that 
 " it adds something to the argument of the 
 poem ; that it meets and refutes the main 
 positions taken up by Job." But as I endeav- 
 oured to show you in my introductory remarks, 
 and as we shall see more clearly still in the 
 next sermon, the poem is not an argument at 
 
1 5 2 Job : Chaps, xxix. -xxxi. 
 
 all. It is the history of a soul's experience. 
 The long discussion which Job is represented 
 as carrying on with his friends, is only intro- 
 duced for the sake of unfolding and explaining 
 the various stages of doubt and despair through 
 which the sufferer passed. Elihu's discourse, 
 on the contrary, completely destroys the unity 
 of the poem. He had attained, no doubt, to 
 somewhat clearer views, as to the meaning of 
 suffering and the dealings of God with man, 
 than were possessed by the afflicted patriarch.^ 
 But just for that very reason, we may be sure, 
 such a speaker would never have been introduced 
 by the author of the poem, who was an artist of 
 the very highest type. A true poet does not, of 
 course, work in everything that he knows, but 
 only such portions of his knowledge as will con- 
 duce to the perfecting of his poem. The fact that 
 the author of the Book of Job could have thrown 
 light upon some of Job's difficulties, was no sort 
 of reason for his doing so. He conceived of Job 
 as a man in whose mental experience these diffi- 
 culties had never been logically answered. In 
 the poem therefore, which is devoted to describ- 
 ing Job's experiences, logic would be out of place. 
 If argument had been the poet's aim, there surely 
 ' See pp. 171-181. 
 
yob: Chaps, xxvx.-xxxi. 153 
 
 would have been a splendid display of it in the 
 climax of the poem — viz., in Jehovah's speech. 
 But there is none. That speech is not an argu- 
 ment at all, but a mere outburst of feeling. It 
 is an appeal to the emotional side of Job's 
 nature, not to the intellectual. But the copyist I 
 who interpolated Elihu's speech did not see the 
 purport of the poem. Though strong in logic, he 
 was weak in art. He imagined that the author's 
 chief purpose was the discussion of mental diffi- 
 culties, not the description of mental experience. 
 He was probably, like the character whom he 
 interpolated, a young man, full of the impetu- 
 osity and conceit from which very few young 
 men are altogether free. As he read the poem, 
 he was astonished to find that his own pet ideas 
 had not been introduced. Feeling that he had 
 it in his power to answer some of Job's objec- 
 tions, and to set the three friends right, he could 
 not bear that this ability should be wasted. As 
 the discussion goes, ia his view of it, limping 
 along, he feels constrained to interfere. He 
 fancied he was coming to the assistance of the 
 poet by strengthening his argument, when in 
 reality he was only spoiling his poem. 
 
 In the original poem then. Job's soliloquy, 
 which finished in chapter xxxi., was immedi- 
 
154 Job: Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 
 
 ately followed by Jehovah's speech, which begins 
 in chapter xxxviii. This speech we shall have 
 next to consider. In the meantime, let us just 
 notice the state of mind in which Job at present 
 finds himself. He is now comparatively calm. 
 He has attained to a belief in the resurrection 
 of the dead, and therefore his affliction can 
 never again appear to him so desperate as it 
 did, when he supposed that Ms little all of life 
 was being swallowed up in calamity. But the 
 most fervent faith dn another world wUl never 
 make it agreeable to suffer in (his. He is still 
 as much puzzled as ever in regard to the why 
 and wherefore of his afflictions. He knows of 
 no other meaning in suffering than punishment ; 
 and punishment, he is sure, he has done nothing 
 to deserve. He longs as much as ever for an 
 explanation. He has found out that the solu- 
 tion of the problem is beyond the reach of 
 human faculties. But he wants a special rev- 
 elation. He would like to hear an explanation 
 from the lips of God Himself. He no longer 
 gives vent to blasphemous recriminations against 
 God. He no longer explicitly accuses the 
 Almighty of injustice and tyranny and cruelty ; 
 but he is, nevertheless, quietly, despondently 
 sceptical. God, at any rate, he feels,_j)iust 
 
yab : Chaps, xxix.-xxxi. 155 
 
 have forgotten him. There is a verse in Aus- 
 tin's " Human Tragedy " which exactly expresses 
 his mental condition. We have all, I suppose, 
 at times felt constrained to ejaculate the same 
 bitter cry : — 
 
 " Stupendous Power ! that, secret and afar, 
 
 Sitt'st on Thy throne, where none may come to Thee, 
 
 fling the gates of heaven ajar. 
 That for one moment suffering flesh may see 
 
 Thy face, and what Thy darkened judgments are ! 
 Are war and sin and sorrow Thy decree ? 
 
 Is Fate our Father ? Thou art supremely strong. 
 
 And we so weak ! How long ? Lord, how long ? " 
 
i.s6 
 
 Job. 
 VIII. 
 
 CHAPTEES XXXVIII.-XLII. 
 
 TXT'E have now come to the speech of Jehovah. 
 ' ^ " The Lord answered him out of the 
 whirlwind." This is the oriental way of saying 
 that it was the sight of a storm, which led Job 
 into some such train of thought as that which 
 follows. Generally speaking, men see God most 
 distinctly in what is strange and appalling. In 
 Longfellow's "Evangeline" we read for example: 
 
 ' ' Keenly the lightning flashed, and the voice of the echoing 
 
 thunder 
 Told her that God was in heaven and governed the world He 
 
 created." 
 
 The same truth is asserted by the falling dew. 
 But for one who will observe God speaking in 
 the still small voice, there are — even in the 
 
yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 157 
 
 nineteenth century — thousands who will hear 
 Him in the thunder-peal. And the ancients 
 were even less affected than we are by any 
 natural phenomenon which was quiet and com- 
 monplace. This was the reason why the poet 
 adopted a storm as the vehicle of the divine 
 suggestions. Jehovah's speech is somewhat as 
 follows : — 
 
 Who is this that obscures the ways of Providence 
 by his foolish words ? Prepare now for the con- 
 test with me which thou hast desired. I vnll 
 question thee, and answer me if thou can^st. 
 Where wast thou when I founded the earth ? 
 Tell me, how was it done ? Who determined its 
 measurements ? and on what were its foundations 
 laid ? Did you hear God's elder children rejoicing 
 over this new creation ? Who was it, at the birth 
 of the sea, Trmde clouds into garments for it, and 
 mists into swaddlin^-dothes ? Who was it that re- 
 strained the ocean as by bars and gates, and said to 
 it, " Hitherto shall thou come, but here shall the 
 pride of thy waves be stayed " ? Hast thou ever 
 commanded it to be night, or taught the dawn when 
 it was to appear and disperse the works of darkness ? 
 — Row wonderful is the dawn ! All the features 
 of the landscape stand out in relief, and the earth 
 decks herself with her gayest colours. Night is the 
 
158 Job: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 
 
 sinner's day, but with the dwwn his fell purposes 
 are stopped. — ITast thou gone to the sources of the 
 sea, or traversed the abysses of the ocean ? Save 
 the gates of death been opened for thee ? Tell me, 
 dost thou know the earth in all its length and 
 breadth ? Where does light dwell, and where 
 darkness ? Evidently thou leddest them to their 
 place, and hast often since been to visit them ! 
 How vast must be the number of tljy years ! 
 Hast thou entered the store-house of the snow, and 
 seen the arsenals of hail which I reserve for con- 
 flict with my enemies ? How is the light and how 
 is the wind distributed over the earth ? Who is 
 it that forms channels for the rain, so that it 
 waters definite portions of the earth; and even 
 unpeopled deserts are not forgotten ? Do you 
 know the father of the rain, or the sire of the 
 dew-drops ? Are you acquainted with the mother 
 of ice and of hoar-frost ? How is it that water 
 becomes compressed, as it were, into stone ? Canst 
 thou string together the stars that form the cluster 
 of the Pleiades, or unbind Orion's belt ? Canst 
 thou make the constellations appear in their season ? 
 Hast thou determined the influence which they 
 shall exert upon the earth ? Dost thou know the 
 laws which govern them ? If thou commanded, 
 will the clouds bring rain ? If thou callest for 
 
yod : Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 159 
 
 the lightnings, will they say, Here we are ? Who 
 is it that tilts the clouds, so that their contents are 
 poured upon the earth as from bottles ? 
 
 Turn now to the animal creation. Canst thou 
 find prey for the lion ? When the young ravens cry 
 unto God in their hunger, canst thou provide them 
 with food ? Canst thou trace the life of the rock- 
 goat from its beginning ? Who was it gave the 
 wild ass his love of freedom, and Tnade him dwell 
 in the wilderness in scornful cont&mpt of men ? 
 Canst thou make a slave of the bison, and compel 
 him to plough thy fields or to carry thy com ? 
 Hast thou given birds their instincts ? Why 
 is the stork so careful of its young, and the 
 ostrich so careless? The latter, on the approach 
 of the huntsmen, leaves her eggs to be trodden 
 underfoot. She is as indifferent as though they 
 were not her own, for God hath denied her wisdom. 
 Dost thou give the horse his strength ? Hast thou 
 provided him with his quivering mane ? Hast 
 thou given him his caracole ? His very snorting 
 spreads terror. He rushes in his pride against the 
 arms of the enemy. He laughs at fear, and is not 
 dismayed though the arrows rattle upon his side. 
 He recoils neither from sword nor from spear. 
 He cannot contain himself at the sound of the 
 trumpet. At every blast he neighs aloud in his 
 
i6o yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 
 
 eagerness for the battle. He scents it from afar, 
 with the thunder of the captains a-nd the shouting. 
 Is it thy cunning that taught the hawk to fly 
 southward in tlu, winter-time ? Both the eagle 
 build its eyrie on the top of lofty crags, because 
 thou hast so comrnanded it ; or didst thou implant 
 in him his propensity to swoop down at the sight 
 of blood ? 
 
 Then Jehovah said to Job, Will the eensurer 
 of the Almighty still contend with Him ? Let 
 him who accused God now reply. Then Job an- 
 swered and said, Lo I am weak, what can I reply ? 
 I must be silent : I have spoken, but I will say 
 no more. In plain English, Job hints that he 
 is being overwhelmed rather than answered. 
 
 So Jehovah speaks again. Prepare thysdf for 
 the contest like a man. I will question thee, and 
 answer thou me. Wouldst thou impugn my jus- 
 tice, and condemn me to clear thyself? Hast thou, 
 then, an arm of power like God ? or canst thou 
 thunder with a voice of terror like His ? Deck 
 thyself now with pomp and majesty like mine, and 
 array thyself in glory and splendour. Give free 
 course to the floods of thy wrath. Humble the proud 
 with a look. Trample the wicked in the dust, and 
 cover their faces with the shadow of death. Then I 
 will praise thee as thou hast been praising thyself. 
 
yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. i6i 
 
 / vnll acknowledge that thy power is equal to my 
 ovm. Behold now the hippopotamus, whom I made 
 as well as thee. His hones are like tubes of brass, 
 and his ribs like bars of iron. He is God's master- 
 piece. With his tusk he can mow the grass as 
 with a scythe. He is not put about even though the 
 river overflows its banks and bursts upon him. Yet, 
 strong as he is, men put cords through his nostrils 
 and catch him, even when he has his eyes wide 
 open. The crocodile on the contrary, because I 
 have otherwise ordained, thou canst not catch. 
 Canst thou pass a rope through his nostrils, or 
 pierce his jaws with a hook ? Will he entreat 
 thee with soft words for thy mercy ? Will he 
 sell himself to thee into slavery ? Canst thou muke 
 a plaything of him for thy children ? Are the 
 fishermen able to trade in him? Thou canst 
 make no impression on his hide. If thou offerest 
 him battle, woe betide thee; thou wilt not do it 
 a second time. He is not dismayed when he sees 
 thee ; no one would be so daring as to anger him. 
 — And yet thou wouldst venture to stand up against 
 me, his Maker, who am under obligation to no 
 man, to whom all things under heaven belong. 
 — / wUl not he silent about his members and the 
 beauty of his structure. Who can lift up his 
 coat of mail ? Who will open the doors of his 
 L 
 
1 62 Job: Chaps. xxxviii.-xlii. 
 
 face? Rmhvd about his teeth is terror. What 
 
 a pride he takes in his shielding scales, fitted 
 
 together so closely that not a hreath can come 
 
 between them ! Sis eyes with their red glow are 
 
 like the eyes of the morning. Fire and muike 
 
 seem to •pour forth from his nostrils, so that his 
 
 breath might kindle coals. In his neck dwells 
 
 swperhv/man strength. Despair springs up before 
 
 Mm. He is as destitute of fear as the hardest stone. 
 
 When he rouseth him^df ths bravest are filled with 
 
 terror. Let any one attack him, it will be in vain. 
 
 Sword and javelin and dart are all useless against 
 
 him. He regards iron as draw, brass as rotten 
 
 wood, avd sling-stor^es as so much chaff. Arrows 
 
 do not move him. The club affects him no more 
 
 than stubble. He laughs at the shaking of the 
 
 spear. He is armed underneath with spikes like 
 
 those of a threshing-sledge. He causes the sea to 
 
 boil like a caldron. He leaves a glistening track 
 
 behind him, which gives to the water the whiteness 
 
 of hoary hair. There is not his like upon earth. 
 
 Created devoid of fear, he can look the loftiest 
 
 boldly in the face. He is king of all the sons of 
 
 pride. 
 
 Then Job answered and said, / know that 
 Thou canst do all th/ings, and that nothing is 
 too hard for Thee. Thou saidst, " Who is 
 
yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 163 
 
 (hat is obsau/rvng Providence with foolish words ? " 
 I confess I have spoken of things I understood 
 not. When I said, "Listen to me while I ask 
 Thee questions," I had hut heard of Thee with 
 the hearing of the ear ; hut tww mine eye seeth 
 Thee : therefore I retract, and repent in dust and 
 
 You will observe that this confession of sin 
 is not a renouncing of his integrity. The sin 
 he acknowledges is not one of which a human 
 being could have made him conscious. He had 
 been aU along, as is expressly stated in the 
 epilogue, far more righteous than his friends. 
 But he now began to feel 
 
 " That merit lives from man to man, 
 But not, God, from man to Thee," — 
 
 that however much better he might be than the 
 rest of his neighbours, he was yet not faultless 
 in the sight of God. He perceived that Grod was r . ■ 
 not only more powerful than man, but also holier x^i 
 and wiser, more to be trusted than the treach- j 
 erous human heart, than erring human reason. 
 
 I need not detain you more than a moment 
 over the epilogue. I must just remind you that, 
 like the prologue, it is written in prose, and 
 belongs, not to the poem itself, but merely to its 
 
1 64 Job : Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii'. 
 
 setting. The most interesting verse in it is the 
 first. The Lord said to Eliphaz, " My wrath is 
 kindled against thee and against thy two friends ; 
 because ye have not spoken of me aright as my 
 servant Job hath." At times Job had spoken 
 foolishly ; but stiU he had honestly, by terrible 
 mental conflict, worked his way to the conclu- 
 sion that God would do him justice sooner or 
 later, in the next world if not in this. Whereas 
 his friends had been telling lies to prove their 
 piety. They had groundlessly accused him of 
 the niost grievous crimes, rather than admit a 
 defect in their orthodox theology. 
 
 The only other noteworthy point in the 
 epilogue is Job's restoration to prosperity. It 
 reads in our modern eyes like an anti-climax: 
 the attainment of faith is something so infinitely 
 higher than the possession of " fourteen thousand 
 sheep, and six thousand camels, and a thousand 
 yoke of oxen, and a thousand she-asses." But at 
 the time when the poem was written, any other 
 dAtuymirmnt would have been considered unsat- 
 isfactory. Every one then believed that good 
 conduct must necessarily lead to good fortune. 
 So that in no other way could Job have been 
 thoroughly vindicated in the estimation of con- 
 temporary readers. 
 
Job: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 165 
 
 For the few moments that remain to me, I 
 must return to Jehovah's speech. Is it not very | 
 disappointing ? We could not help hoping that ' 
 it would throw some light upon the mystery of 
 existence ; but it does not. Job complains that 
 he is suffering wrongfully, that the ways of Pro- 
 vidence are apparently unjust and capricious. 
 Jehovah's only reply is to enumerate instances 
 illustrative of His own omnipotence. The answer 
 seems altogether irrelevant, and yet it satisfied 
 Job. How was this ? 
 
 It is curious and instructive to notice that all 
 books of a similar nature are equally disappoint- 
 ing. " From the ' Confessions ' of St Augustine 
 down to Newman's ' History of my Eeligious 
 Opinions,' there have been hundreds of books 
 which have professed to give the history of an 
 inquiring human spirit, sounding its dim and 
 perilous way across dark seas of doubt to the 
 clear rest and haven of faith. But read which 
 of these books we may, we find in it two singular 
 phenomena. First, so long as the author sets 
 forth the doubts and perplexities by which he 
 has been exercised, we find his words instinct 
 with life and passion and power — they commend 
 themselves to our understanding, and excite our 
 sympathy ; we find that he is happily expressing 
 
1 66 ^ob : Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 
 
 thoughts and emotions which have often stirred 
 within our own souls. But, — and this is the 
 second and more striking phenomenon, — no 
 sooner does he begin to tell us what it was 
 that solved and conquered his doubts, than a 
 thick bewildering haze settles down on his 
 words ; they neither commend themselves to 
 our sympathies nor convince our judgment. We 
 cry in disappointment, ' Is that all ? ' What 
 is there m thai, to induce faith ? The man has 
 not fairly met one of his doubts, nor solved one 
 of his problems; he has simply evaded them, 
 and crept by an illogical by-path to a tame and 
 impotent conclusion." 
 
 The fact is, a complete logical solution of the 
 problem of existence is unattainable byus. 
 Every thoughtful man from the beginning has 
 puzzled over it, and still it remains unsolved. 
 Logic in this matter can go but a very little 
 way. Last year I discussed with you the 
 mystery of suffering from the logical point of 
 view,^ and you remember how little we were 
 able to make of it. We could just discover that 
 sometiTnes suffering was productive of good ; but 
 we could only hope, we could not prove, that 
 in all cases it was beneficent. Hence it is that 
 1 See ' Origin of Evil.' 
 
yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 167 
 
 no man has ever been driven to faith by logic. 
 But though scepticism cannot be destroyed by 
 argument, it may be conquered by emotion, and 
 it is for the sake of rousing emotion that the ' 
 author represents Jehovah as appealing to nature. 
 The poet of nature has told us : — 
 
 " One impulse from the vernal iroods 
 May teach us more of man, 
 Of moral evil and of good, 
 Than all the sages can." 
 
 The purport of Jehovah's speech is to inspire 
 Job with awe and trust, by giving him a keener 
 sense of Nature's mysterious sublimity. 
 
 Of course the speech is ancient, not modern, 
 in its tone and tenor. Men in the time of Job 
 had but a very superficial knowledge of natural 
 phenomena. They had attained to no general 
 conceptions, such as those of law, force, con- 
 sciousness, life. They had but little apprecia- 
 tion for the beauty of natural scenery. It was 
 the unusual that chiefly attracted their attention. 
 It is curious that the first half of Jehovah's 
 speech produces less effect upon Job than the 
 second. He is sUenced by the mention of light 
 and dew and rain, the instinct of birds and the 
 gentler phases of nature ; but he is not subdued. 
 It is the description of the hippopotamus and 
 
\ 
 
 1 68 yod : Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 
 
 the crocodile which bends his haughty spirit. A 
 modern poet would, of course, have omitted the 
 second half of the speech and amplified the 
 first. He would have pointed out how the 
 conflicting forces of the external world work 
 together for the production of harmonious and 
 desirable results. He would have drawn at- 
 tention to some of the innumerable instances of 
 beneficent adaptation with which Nature teems. 
 Above all, he would have laid stress upon the 
 fact that she is at times so passing fair, and that 
 her beauty makes us conscious of 
 
 "A presence that disturbs us with the joy 
 Of elevated thoughts." 
 
 But the aim of the modern poet would have been 
 identical with that of the author of the Book of 
 Job, viz., to suggest, as vividly as possible, the 
 wonderfulness — awesome and at the same time 
 hope-inspiring — of the world and of life. 
 
 The Book of Job has frequently been com- 
 pared to Goethe's 'Faust ' and to the 'Prometheus' 
 of ./Eschylus. And no doubt there are interest- 
 ing analogies between them. But understood as 
 it ought to be understood — -^egaxded^as^Jhe 
 history of a soul — the poem which most closely 
 resembles it is Lewis Morris's "Evensong." 
 
yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xlii. 169 
 
 There the poet, like poor Job, passes through all 
 phases of doubt and despair, and like Job he event- 
 ually attains to faith. But in the modern poem, 
 just as .we might naturally expect, God is found 
 by the troubled soul, not in a thunderstorm, but 
 in the quietness and beauty of eventide. 
 
 "And through all the clear spaces above — O wonder! 
 
 glory of Light ! — 
 Came forth myriads on myriads of worlds, the shining host 
 
 of the night, — 
 
 The vast forces and fires that know the same sun and centre 
 
 as we ; 
 The faint planets which roll in vast orbits round suns we shall 
 
 never see ; 
 
 The rays which had sped from the first, with the awful swift- 
 ness of light, 
 
 To reach only then, it might be, the confines of mortal 
 sight. 
 
 wonder of Cosmical Order ! Maker and Ruler of 
 
 aU, 
 Before whose infinite greatness in silence we worship and 
 
 faU! 
 
 Could I doubt that the wiU which keeps this great universe 
 
 steadfast and sure, 
 Can be less than His creatures thought, full of goodness, 
 
 pitful, pure? 
 
 Could I dream that the Power which keeps those great suns 
 
 circling around. 
 Takes no thought for the humblest life which flutters and 
 
 falls to the ground ? 
 
170 yob: Chaps, xxxviii.-xln. 
 
 Faith ! thou art higher than all.— Then I turned from the 
 
 glories above, 
 And from every casement new-lit there shone a soft radiance 
 
 of love : 
 
 Young mothers were teaching their children to fold little 
 
 hands in prayer; 
 Strong fathers were resting from toil, 'mid the hush of the 
 
 Sabbath air ; 
 
 Peasant lovers strolled through the lanes, shy and diffident, 
 
 each with each. 
 Yet knit by some subtle union too fine for their halting 
 
 Humble lives, to low thought, and low, but linked, to the 
 
 thinker's eye, 
 By a bond that is stronger than death, with the lights of the 
 
 farthest sky: 
 
 Here as there, the great drama of life rolled on, and a jubilant 
 
 voice 
 Thrilled through me ineffable, vast, and bade me exult and 
 
 rejoice : 
 
 ' Exult and rejoice, soul ! ' sang my being to a mystical 
 hymn, 
 
 As I passed by the cool bright wolds, as I threaded the pine- 
 woods dim ; 
 
 ' Rejoice and be sure ! ' as I reached my home under the 
 
 hill, 
 Wrapt round with a happy content, — and the woeld and 
 
 MY SOUL WERE STILL." 
 
171 
 
 Eliku's Speech. 
 
 JOB XXXII. -XXXVII. 
 
 TTTHEN" we were considering the Book of 
 Job, we omitted altogether the speech of 
 Elihu, which is manifestly an interpolation. It 
 interferes with the unity and natural develop- 
 ment of the poem. It attempts a logical solution 
 of some of the difficulties Job had started, and 
 a logical solution is altogether alien to the spirit 
 of the poem itself. 
 
 It is curious to notice the different opinions 
 which have prevailed among commentators as 
 to the worth or worthlessness of Elihu's remarks. 
 One, for example, calls him a pert and braggart 
 boy, of weak and rambling speech; while another 
 believes that his teaching is too wise and author- 
 itative for merely human lips, and so supposes 
 him to have been the second person in the 
 Trinity. Instead of "Elihu, the son of Bara- 
 
172 Elihus speech. 
 
 chel, the Buzite, of the tribe of Earn," as we 
 have him described in our version, the latter 
 commentator reads : " Elihu, the blessed son of 
 God, of the lineage of the Most High." In 
 reality, however, Elihu speaks just as a moder- 
 ately intelligent scribe might be expected to 
 speak. And if we take his speech by itself, 
 out of connection with the poem which it mars, 
 it becomes interesting and suggestive. The new 
 speaker is introduced with the remark that his 
 wrath was kindled against Job for justifying 
 himself, and against the friends for condemning 
 him without being able to prove that he had 
 done wrong. He begins apologetically. 
 
 / am young and ye are old. . But, after all, it 
 is not years which teach wisdom ; that only comes 
 from the inspiration of the Almighty. Therefore 
 listen to me. None of you has refuted Job. I 
 gather from your silence that you have perceived 
 your failure. But as for me, I am full of words. 
 I can restrain myself no longer. I must speak 
 out. And I intend to speak plainly my honest 
 conviction. Although I am hut a man, I feel 
 that I am inspired by the Almighty. 
 
 I could hardly believe my ears, Job, when you 
 said, " I am pure and spotless and free from sin. 
 God is spying out all my ways, determined to 
 
Elihtis Speech. i "jt^ 
 
 c<mdemn and convict me." Why did you assert 
 that He is an autocrat, giving no account of His 
 dealings, and altogether refusing to speak to men ? 
 He does speak to them, if they would hut hear. 
 He speaks, first of all, in visions of the night. 
 By them He admonishes us, trying to reclaim its 
 from our evil ways, and to hold us hack from 
 destruction. Then, too. He has another way of 
 peaking — vis., hy pain, when we writhe upon 
 our heds in agony and the angel of death comes 
 very Tiear. With the suffering He sends an 
 interpreter, one of His thousand messengers, to 
 reveal to us the meaning of our painful experi- 
 ence. If we listen to the interpreter . and profit 
 hy his teaching, then God has pity on us. He 
 says to the angel of death, " Deliver him from 
 goin,g doum into the pit, for I have found a means 
 of escape for him; he has learnt his lesson — there 
 is no need for his heing any further afflicted." 
 And so the sorrowful soul, restored to health and 
 joy, chants God's praises and says, " I have sinned, 
 hut I am not requited as I deserve: He hath 
 rescued my soul from going down to the grave : 
 I live and hehold the light." 
 
 Have you anything to answer, Job ? If not, 
 listen to me, and I will teach you wisdom. 
 
 In the next chapter, Elihu proceeds to vindi- 
 
1 74 Ekhus Speech. 
 
 cate the Almighty from Job's accusation of in- 
 justice. Such an accusation, he tries to show, 
 is irrational and unphilosophical. 
 
 Qod Tn/wst he just, and mvst requite men accord- 
 ing to their deserts, for the following reasons. 
 First, He can have no motive for doing otherwise. 
 He made rich and "poor, high and low, alike. 
 Why, then, should He treat them unegmdly? 
 Secondly, injustice isfaial to authority. Had He 
 been unjust. He would long a^o have ceased to 
 be worshipped. Men would have rebelled against 
 His impious rule. Thirdly, He mvst take a posi- 
 tive interest in the welfare of His creatures, or else 
 He would not have created them. He would not 
 continue to sustain them. If He lived for Him- 
 self alone. He would withdraw His quickening 
 breath, and men would return to dust. The fact 
 that He troubles Himself to maintain the world, 
 proves that He must have for it a kindly regard. 
 And fourthly. His justice is demonstrated by oMvmI 
 facts. In the long-run it fares ill with evil-doers. 
 For a time they may prosper, but in the end they 
 are always overthrown — sometimes in the still- 
 ness of the night by an unseen hand, sometimes 
 in open day and in the sight of all. 
 
 Since, then, God is just in all His dealings, it 
 behoves every sufferer to hvmible hlmsdf under the 
 
Elihus speech. 175 
 
 divine chastisement ; and to bethink himself that 
 he may have sinned, unconsciously, if not consciously. 
 His prayer should he, " What I hnow not, teach 
 Thou me, that if I have done evil, I may do so 
 no more." Are you to dictate to God ? All wise 
 men must agree, Job, that you have spoken fool- 
 ishly. Your words are like those of the wicked. 
 You are adding wilful rebellion to your un- 
 conscious guilt. My prayer for you is, that you 
 may be purged from your iniquities. 
 
 He now advances two more arguments in 
 defence of the divine justice. The first is this : 
 God cannot conceivably be unjust. He is far too 
 exalted to be influenced, or in any degree affected, 
 by human actions. The wickedness or righteous- 
 ness of a maw may affect his fellow-men ; but they 
 must be equally matters of indifference to God, 
 who can have, therefore, no indiicement to act un- 
 justly. His second argument relates to unan- 
 swered prayers. Miuih of what passes under the 
 name of prayer is but an instinctive cry of pain, 
 like thai which might be uttered by a beast or a bird. 
 Such cndcries are vain. God does not regard them. 
 Men's prayers are unanswered because they pray 
 amiss. They should remember that God has a pur- 
 pose in afflicting them, that He gives men songs in 
 the night of their sorrow, and eventually turns their 
 
1 76 Elihus Speech. 
 
 mourning into joy. He has not forgotten 
 
 you, Jot. Tour cause is before him. Wait, there- 
 fore, for Him. Great as is your affliction, it is not 
 so great as your Ua^hemous speeches have deserved. 
 I still have something to say in God's 
 hehoof. He is strong, hit He despiseth none. He 
 is mighty by strength of heart. He afflicts men 
 in order to make them conscious of their trans- 
 gressions. If they listen to Him and turn from 
 their iniquities, they will end their days in hap- 
 piness. He delivereth the afflicted by their afflic- 
 tions, and opens their ears by calamity. But those 
 who wilfully stop their ears, and refuse to learn 
 the lessons of suffering, end their days in woe. 
 Towards thee also, God has a merciful 
 intention. But beware lest you frustrate this in- 
 tention and provoke Him. From. His anger none 
 can deliver you. It is no good crying out against 
 your fate. It is no good calling for death. God 
 does not use His power to crush you, but, on the 
 contrary, to teach and to exalt you. Instead of 
 venturing to criticise and fmd fault with Him, 
 you should rather stand in awe. 
 
 At this point Elihu proceeds to give a de- 
 scription of a thunderstorm, partly as being 
 illustrative of the divine power and punish- 
 ment, and partly also to connect the speech 
 
Elihus speech. 177 
 
 with what follows, and make it fit into the 
 speech of Jehovah, which is said to have been 
 uttered out of the tempest. Elihu now de- 
 scribes such a tempest — describes it vividly as 
 if he actually saw it; and thus the way is 
 skilfully prepared for the words of Jehovah, 
 which are supposed to be heard just when the 
 storm is at its height. It is mainly owing to 
 this ingenious device on the part of the copyist, 
 that the interpolation has so frequently been 
 considered as genuine. 
 
 God is great, and we know Him not From 
 the depths of the sea He draweth up the clouds 
 and forms them into a. pavilion. He dischargeth 
 lightning against His foe. The crash of the thun- 
 der announceth the ferceness of His wrath. My 
 heart leaps out of its place for fear. Listen to 
 the tumult of His voice, and the muttering that 
 goeth forth out of His mouth. He doeth great 
 things past our comprehension. He saith to the 
 snow and to the streaming rain, "Fall ye upon 
 the earth," and they fail, — fall in such torrents 
 that all huinan labour is stopped, and men arc 
 compelled to gaze on the handiwork of the Al- 
 mighty. He breathes upon the waters and they 
 are frost-hound. Hither and thither HS pilots 
 the thunder-cloud, so that it may accomplish His 
 M 
 
178 Elihus Speech. 
 
 behests, for good or for ill. Listen, Job. Stand 
 still and scan the wondrovs works of God. — But 
 scan them as we may, we shall never comprehend 
 them; we cannot tell upon what the clouds are 
 poised, nor how it is they gleam with light. We 
 do not know by what means the firmament has 
 been spread forth like a molten mirror, nor why 
 the south wind makes us warm. Let us take heed, 
 therefore, how we speak to God, lest we destroy 
 ou/rsehes by our folly. We cannot gaze at the sun 
 when he is shining in a cloudless sky. How awful, 
 then, must be the majesty of God ! We cannot 
 find Him out. He is of perfect eqwity, but He will 
 render account to no man. Therefore let us fear 
 Him, whom not even the wisest can behold. 
 
 I should like, in conclusion, just to sum up 
 the results of Elihu's teaching. Of his various 
 arguments to prove the justice of God, one is 
 worthless, and another is worse than worthless. 
 In saying that the actual facts of experience 
 demonstrate the divine justice, he falls into 
 what, as we saw, was the common mistake of all 
 the older theologians. No doubt in the long- 
 run evil-doers generally come to grief in this 
 world. Still there often occur glaring excep- 
 tions. We may wish it otherwise, but that 
 does not change the facts. And God's honour 
 
Elihtis Speech. 1 79 
 
 cannot require from us Iws for its preservation. 
 It is best preserved, it is alone preserved, by 
 honesty. The inequalities which we find in this 
 life, the existence of which no amount of in- 
 genuity can disprove, are, as you know, relied 
 on in the present day as a main support for 
 the doctrine of immortality. Then, too, Elihu's 
 argument (which is substantially the argument 
 of Epicurus) that God is too exalted to be 
 influenced by human actions — in other words, 
 that He is too indifferent to be unjust — sounds 
 in our modern ears little short of blasphemous. 
 Let me say, however, in Elihu's defence, that 
 this argument is inconsistent with, and contra- 
 dicted by, another which he himself uses — viz., 
 that God, from the fact that He preserves His 
 creatures, must be conceived of as taking an 
 interest in their welfare. 
 
 His views in regard to suffering are partly 
 true and . partly false. He saw that affliction 
 was disciplinary rather than retributive. But 
 he erroneously conceived this purpose as always 
 one and the same — ^viz., to make men conscious 
 of their sins. He did not perceive that there 
 were other lessons which suffering might teach, 
 and other purposes which it might subserve.^ 
 
 ^ See sermons on "Suffering" in my 'Origin of Evil." 
 
i8o Elihus Speech. 
 
 In regard to prayer Elihu's teaching is really 
 fresh and valuable. Prayer is too often, as he 
 says, but an instinctive cry for deliverance from 
 pain, whereas it should be rather a request for 
 enlightenment and for spiritual help.^ If God 
 be a loving God, there must be a wise and 
 beneficent purpose underlying all calamity. As 
 Elihu finely puts it, God delivers the afflicted 6y 
 their afflictions. And so our prayer, when we 
 are in suffering, should be, not so much that 
 this suffering may be removed, as that we may 
 be enabled to learn from it the lesson it was in- 
 tended to teach, and to derive from it the benefit 
 it was meant to confer. There is much need 
 that we all lay to heart Elihu's counsel. If 
 we examine ourselves, we shall find that our 
 prayers are most fervent and most real, when 
 we are merely asking for some temporal bless- 
 ing. Our requests for spiritual enlightenment 
 and help are comparatively languid and forced. 
 We are too anxious to inform the Almighty of 
 our wishes and bend Him to our will. But 
 to pray in this fashion is to prostitute our 
 noblest endowment. We should be chiefly 
 concerned to understand the divine will more 
 perfectly, and to obey it more implicitly. The 
 
 ^ See also a sermon on " Prayer " in my ' Origin of Evil.' 
 
Elihits Speech. i8i 
 
 main burden of all true prayer is contained in 
 the pregnant summary of Elihu, " That which 
 I know not, teach Thou me ; wherein I have 
 done evil, may I do so no more." Well will it 
 be for you, well will it be for me, if we can 
 say, with all the fervour of which our nature 
 is capable; — 
 
 " I do not ask, Lord, that life may be 
 
 A pleasant road ; 
 I do not ask that Thou wooldst take from me 
 
 Aught of its load. 
 
 I do not ask that flowers should always spring 
 
 Beneath my feet ; 
 I know too well the poison and the sting 
 
 Of things too sweet. 
 
 For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead — 
 
 Lead me aright ; 
 Though strength should falter and though heart should bleed, 
 
 Lead me to Light." 
 
l82 
 
 Christianity and Pre-Christian 
 Religion. 
 
 PEE-CHEISTIAN EELIGION. 
 " He left not Himself without witness." — Acts xiv. 17. 
 
 TN this and the following sermons I propose 
 -*- to contrast Christianity and pre-Christian 
 religion, with especial reference to the doctrines 
 of the Incarnation, the Atonement, and Eedemp- 
 tion, — with reference, that is, to (1) the revela- 
 tion of the Deity which was given in Christ ; 
 (2) the new relation towards God into which 
 men were thereby introduced ; and (3) the 
 moral reformation effected by the Atonement. 
 There are persons who divide religions, as 
 they do aU other things, into two classes, — 
 their own, and those which are not their own ; 
 
Pre-Christia7i Religion. » 183 
 
 or, as they more euphemistically express it, the 
 true and the false. Any religion, which does 
 not number ihem, among its disciples, must be 
 of course altogether worthless. Some even go 
 so far as to restrict the term true religion, not 
 to the common Christianity of Christendom, but 
 to the creed of some one particular sect or 
 denomination. I remember hearing a man — a 
 clergyman, I am sorry to say — find fault with 
 her Majesty our Queen for worshipping in a 
 Presbyterian church, on the ground that, in 
 doing so, she was guilty of " chainging her re- 
 ligion." Such an extreme exhibition of narrow- 
 ness is nowadays somewhat exceptional; but 
 the notion that non-Christian religions, at any 
 rate, are altogether worthless, is by no means 
 uncommon. 
 
 That this notion is incorrect, and that all 
 religions are true as far as they go — i.e., as 
 far as they are religions, may be seen from 
 the following considerations. (1.) It is incon- 
 ceivable that God, while revealing Himself com- 
 pletely to the few, should have concealed Him- 
 self as completely from the many. The Being 
 who cared only for a small proportion of the 
 human race, however strong He might be, how- 
 ever remarkable and terrible,^would not be good 
 
184 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 — i.e., would not be God. (2.) If every religion 
 which is inferior to Christianity is to be called 
 false, Judaism cannot be called true. (3.) In 
 many of the so-called false religions, we find, 
 as I shall point out to you, remarkable antici- 
 pations both of Old and of New Testament 
 teaching. And what is absolutely true in' one 
 religion cannot be absolutely false in another. 
 (4.) The hasty characterisation of all religions 
 but one as false religions, is countenanced neither 
 by the Bible nor by what are called "the 
 Fathers."^ I might quote many confirmatory 
 passages, but two will suffice. St Peter, who 
 was by nature and education incKned to all 
 the exclusiveness of a Jew, confessed on one 
 occasion to the Gentile Cornelius, " God hath 
 showed me that I should not call any man 
 common or unclean." And similarly Augustine 
 says, " There are no religions which do not con- 
 tain some truth." (5.) The unwarrantable de- 
 preciation of non-Christian religions is not the 
 best way of honouring Christianity. If they 
 contained nothing valuable, the fact that Chris- 
 tianity surpassed them would be deprived of 
 
 1 A quotation from the Fathers always impresses those per- 
 sons who imagine that these primitive expositors of Chris- 
 tianity have said the last word upon the snhject. 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 185 
 
 all significance. But if, after giving them their 
 full due, and seeing that they did contain much 
 that was true and good, we still find that Chris- 
 tianity is pre-eminently superior, we shall in the 
 end appreciate our own religion all the more 
 highly. 
 
 There is another equally common, but equally 
 misleading, mode of expression — viz., the at- 
 tempted distinction between natural and re- 
 vealed religion. This implies that it is possible, 
 without any revelation at all, to arrive at a 
 certain amount of religious truth. Now there 
 is no doubt that by a study of nature, and by 
 self-examination, men may come to know some- 
 thing of God. But it is absurd to call this 
 knowledge natural, in contradistinction to re- 
 vealed; for nature and man are themselves 
 revelations. Nature is not silent and dead. 
 She is resonant with voices that speak to us 
 of God:— 
 
 " There is a tongue in every leaf, 
 
 A voice in every rill, 
 A voice that speaketh everywhere. 
 In flood and fire, through earth and aii-, 
 
 A voice that's never still." 
 
 " Day unto day uttereth speech, and night 
 unto night showeth knowledge. There is no 
 
1 86 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 speech nor language [in one sense] ; their voice 
 is not heard; [and yet in another sense] their 
 line is gone out through aU the earth, and 
 their words to the end of the world." By her 
 order and regularity, by her wonderfulness, and, 
 still more, by the mysterious power of her 
 beauty, Nature speaks to us of her Author, 
 and reveals to us God. — Man, too, is a divine 
 revelation. " He who truly knows himself," 
 said St Chrysostom, "knows God." If we are 
 the .children of God, if we have been made in 
 His image, then He must have revealed Himself 
 in us. If conscience be the voice of God, its 
 teaching, however natural, must be also revela- 
 tory. In other words, apart from revelation 
 there could be no natural religion. All religion 
 — so far as it is religious — is revealed. 
 
 And once more, the common distinction be- 
 tween natural and supernatural religion is an- 
 other distinction without a difference. Always 
 and everywhere the natural and supernatural ■ 
 are interwoven.^ There is nothing in the 
 universe that is merely natural. Any one 
 who supposes that Christianity alone is super- 
 natural must be blind. Look but deeply enough 
 into them, and you will discover the super- 
 • See 'Origin of Evil," pp. 250-270. 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 187 
 
 natural in every pebble and in every blade of 
 grass. You remember Wordsworth's words — 
 
 " A primrose on the river's brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him — 
 And it was notliing more." 
 
 Nothing more ? Why, the whole mystery of 
 the universe is bound up in the heart of that 
 tiny flower. " Natural " you may call it if 
 you please ; but it owes its existence to causes 
 that we cannot discover or conceive. If we 
 could trace its history up to its first beginnings 
 myriads upon myriads of ages ago, we should 
 have solved the riddle of life, we should have 
 detected the method of creation, we should know 
 the very nature of God. Since, then, the natural 
 and the supernatural are eternally inseparable, 
 the attempt to draw a sharp line of demarcation 
 between them in matters of religion is misleading 
 and erroneous. 
 
 There are two distinctions, however, which it 
 is really important for us to recognise — the dis- 
 tinctions, viz., between Biblical and non-Biblical, 
 between Christian and non-Christian, revelation. 
 And of these the most important is the second. 
 For while our Scriptures, taken as a whole, are 
 superior to the Scriptures of other religions, it 
 is possible, as we shall find, to extract sentences 
 
1 88 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 from other sacred writings which are almost 
 identical with some in our own. But the reve- 
 lation of God in Christ is in all respects unique. 
 In order that we may clearly see its superiority, 
 let us ask what had been previously achieved. 
 And let us begin as nearly as we can at the 
 beginning. 
 
 Long before the dawn of history, long before 
 the time of Abraham or of Homer, our ancestors, 
 and the ancestors of all those nations which are 
 now classed together under the name of Aryan, 
 were dwelling in the centre of Asia as a single 
 and undivided people. These progenitors of Celt 
 and Teuton, Anglo-Saxon and Indian, Scandi- 
 navian and Iranian, had in their language a 
 word, Dyauspitar,^ which means in English 
 Heaven -Father. In the records of the past 
 there is nothing more beautiful, nothing more 
 suggestive, nothing more confirmatory of the 
 truth of our text, than this simple fact. It 
 teaches us that those old Aryans, thousands of 
 years ago, had looked up to the infinite azure 
 and been fiUed with awe — ^nay, more, that they 
 
 1 The existence of this word, or one very similar to it, in the 
 prehistoric Aryan language, is proved by the existence of the 
 words Dyauspitar, Zeupater, and Jupiter in the derivative lan- 
 guages of Sanscrit, Greek, and Latin. 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 189 
 
 had looked through it and been inspired with 
 trust. They had penetrated in thought 
 
 " Beyond the verge of that blue sky 
 "Where God's sublimest secrets lie." 
 
 They had learnt to say, vaguely it may be and 
 hesitatingly, but stUl with faith and hope, the 
 words that Christ has made immortal, — " Our 
 Father which art in heaven." ^ 
 
 But this primeval worship soon became cor- 
 rupt ; and we need not be surprised that it did 
 so. The unknown man who first conceived the 
 idea and coined the expression "Heaven-Father," 
 must have been a poet and a seer, gifted 
 with " the vision and the faculty divine." But 
 his was too high a platform for the most of 
 his contemporaries to occupy. Even now we 
 find men constantly forgetting that emblems 
 are merely emblematic. Just as to-day the 
 eucharistic symbol of Christ's sacrifice is often 
 mistaken for the sacrifice itself, so those old 
 Aryans came to consider that natural objects 
 and phenomena not only revealed the Deity, 
 but were themselves divine. Thus the worship 
 of the Heaven-Father degenerated into a Phy- 
 
 1 Max Miiller has traced a similar primitive religion in the 
 Semitic and Turanian branches of the human family. 
 
I go Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 siolatry, or worship of nature.^ The great in- 
 vesting firmanent was resolved into a number 
 of separate entities. There was the god of dew 
 and rain, the god of wind, the storm-god, and 
 so on. This religion is unfolded in the Veda, 
 which is the Scripture of the Hindus. We 
 find there, amid much that is puerile, some 
 truths that are of perennial sacredness and 
 value. Though a number of inferior deities 
 are recognised, the word Dyauspitar still sur- 
 vives. The consciousness of sin and the yearn- 
 ing for reconciliation are ever present in the 
 Vedic hymns. We read such passages as these : 
 "How can I get near to Varuna?* when 
 shall I, with a quiet mind, see him propitiated ? 
 Absolve us from the sins of our fathers, and 
 from those which we have committed with our 
 own bodies. Varuna is merciful even to him 
 who has committed sin." 
 
 As time went on, however, Hinduism became 
 more and more corrupt, chiefly through the in- 
 fluence of the Brahman priests. For private 
 
 ' There seems to have been a similar degradation of the 
 primitive religion among the Semitic and Turanian nations. 
 " Everywhere men begin with the idea of the sky, they rise to 
 the idea of God, and they sink down again to the idea of gods 
 and spirits." 
 
 2 Varuna signifies the investing sky. 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 191 
 
 reasons of their own they introduced the system 
 of caste, which they pretended was sanctioned 
 by the Veda. The people were taught that 
 " the priests alone knew what food might be 
 eaten, what air might be breathed, what clothes 
 might be worn, and what was the proper length 
 of the ladles in which the sacrifices were to be 
 offered." In a word, religion degenerated into the 
 most absurd and degrading ceremonialism. 
 
 What is called Buddhism was a reaction 
 against the corruptions of Brahmanism. It was 
 founded, as you know, nearly six centuries 
 before the Christian era, by Prince Gautama, 
 who was afterwards called by his disciples " the 
 Buddha" — ie., the Enlightened One. You may 
 perhaps get the clearest glimpse of the beauty 
 of this man's life, and the inexpressible sweet- 
 ness of his character, by reading Edwin Arnold's 
 ' Light of Asia.' His personality was, as Mr 
 Arnold says, the highest, gentlest, holiest and 
 most beneficent (with one exception) which has 
 appeared since the world began. The religion 
 which he founded has achieved greater and more 
 lasting conquests than any other, not excepting 
 even Christianity, and it is now the faith of 
 500,000,000 of the human race. 
 
 Overcome with pity for the misery and suf- 
 
192 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 fering which men were called upon to endure. 
 Prince Gautama set himself to find a remedy. 
 Leaving wife and home and all that men call 
 good, he spent years in solitude, fasting, think- 
 ing, praying, in order that he might work out 
 some plan of salvation. And at last he thought 
 he had found it, in the doctrine that men were 
 miserable on account of their desire for pleasure 
 and their love of life. TiU these are rooted out 
 of us, he said, we shall continue to suffer, even 
 after death. But when we have learnt that 
 life is vanity, and when we have ceased to care 
 for it, we enter into rest, — a rest which is finally 
 to become Nirvana — i.e. to say the unconscious- 
 ness of annihilation.^ A poor salvation this may 
 sieem to us, upon whom the light of Christianity 
 has shone. But the means by which the Buddha 
 taught men to achieve it were inward purifica- 
 tions and moral goodness. He forestalled Christ 
 by enunciating the golden rule and preaching 
 a doctrine of universal benevolence. But what 
 is strangest about Buddhism is this. Though 
 Prince Gautama constantly reminds us of a 
 
 ^ Mr Arnold and others would say that Kirrana is not a 
 purely negative motion. But the distinction between ceasing 
 to live and ceasing to exist ('Light of Asia,' p. 231), seems to 
 me practically worthless. Uneonscious immortality is a con- 
 tradiction in terms. 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 193 
 
 still more iUustrious Prince — the Prince of the 
 house of David — yet in one respect there is an 
 infinite difference between their religions : Bud- 
 dhism makes no mention of God.^ 
 
 There is one other religious system — viz., 
 Confucianism — in which Christ's golden rule 
 was anticipated, at least in its negative form. 
 More than 500 years before the birth of Jesus 
 the Chinese sage had written: "What you do not 
 like when done to yourself, do not that to others." 
 With the exception of the Buddha, Confucius 
 has had more disciples than any other religious 
 teacher. They now number 400,000,000. But 
 his system, like Gautama's, is practically athe- 
 istic. It was useless to trouble, he thought, 
 about anything superhuman, — all such knowledge 
 being quite beyond our grasp. He was what, in 
 these days, we should call an agnostic. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that the two religions, 
 which morally approach the nearest to Chris- 
 tianity, should, in this important respect, be the 
 furthest removed from it. But they could not 
 have survived so long, they could not have made 
 so many converts, unless there had been some- 
 
 ^ Some modern scholars say that Gautama was not an atheist. 
 But even so, since it has taken more than 2000 years to find it 
 out, God cannot have occupied an important place in his system. 
 
 N 
 
194 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 thing true in them, — unless they had been, in 
 some degree, divine revelations. And divine 
 revelations they were. Though God Himself 
 seemed to be ignored, yet the goodness which 
 God loves was insisted on. And whoever loves 
 goodness, unconsciously, if not consciously, loves 
 God. Some day, somewhere, without doubt this 
 will be discovered by every sincere Buddhist 
 and Confucian. 
 
 Before the advent of our Lord, there had been 
 two religions — Zoroastrianism and Judaism — 
 which aimed at leading men to worship the 
 invisible God. 
 
 Zoroaster, who lived more than three thousand 
 years ago, was an enthusiastic believer in the 
 unity and purity of God. He recognised also 
 an evil principle, a sort of Miltonic Satan, 
 whom he supposed to have existed from the 
 beginning. But this evil principle, he declared, 
 was in the end to be conquered, if men would 
 become workers together with God against it. 
 He protested earnestly against the worship of 
 nature and the belief in ceremonialism, to which 
 he found his countrymen addicted. Some of 
 you may remember Bunsen's graphic description 
 of a scene in the life of Zoroaster, which reminds 
 one strongly of Elijah upon Mount Carmel. Hav- 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 195 
 
 ing summoned the people to a hill upon which 
 sacrifices and auguries were being performed, he 
 exhorted them to make their choice between good 
 and evil ; between the many gods they had been 
 accustomed to worship, and the one true God who 
 was Lord over all. It was not by a punctilious 
 ceremonialism, he explained, that God was to be 
 honoured, but by purity, — purity in the holy 
 triad of thought, word, and deed. It was the same 
 doctrine that was taught afterwards by Samuel : 
 " Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt-offer- 
 ings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the 
 Lord ? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice." 
 The mistake of Zoroaster was this: Out of respect, 
 I suppose, for the hardness of men's hearts, he 
 made a compromise with custom, and allowed a 
 subordinate place to the old objects of worship, 
 such as the sun and the sacred bull He in- 
 tended that they sliould be at most but suggest- 
 ive, symbolical emblems — like the images in 
 the Eoman Catholic Church ; but they soon be- 
 came more. When we remember how carefully 
 all such symbols were excluded from the Jewish 
 religion by the second commandment and by the 
 reiterated injunctions of the prophets, and how 
 notwithstanding the Jews were always relaps- 
 ing into idolatry, we are not surprised to find 
 
196 Pre-Christian Religion. 
 
 that the religion of Zoroaster has degenerated 
 into fire-worship and a belief in magical for- 
 mulse. And such a degeneration in religion 
 seems inevitable. At any rate it has always 
 taken place. The revelation of God, made at 
 ■times so clear by the inspired few, becomes 
 again obscured, owing to the blindness and 
 foolishness of the uninspired many. 
 
 In the next sermon we shall see how much 
 the world owes to Judaism, with its firm faith 
 in a personal, present God, and its passionate 
 enthusiasm for righteousness. 
 
 In the meantime I hope that what I have 
 said already, will have served, in some small 
 degree, to illustrate the truth of our text. The 
 most poorly endowed of human beings, the 
 most wretchedly circumstanced individual that 
 is called by the name of man, has something 
 within him that may become the germ of a 
 higher life — has some influences brought to 
 bear upon him that may eventually lead him 
 into the presence of God. "An infant," says 
 Irenseus, " cannot yet receive the food which 
 is meant for fuU-grown men. So man in the 
 beginning was unable to receive the truth in 
 its completeness, for he was still a child." 
 " God's purpose," says Bunsen, " to make a pro- 
 
Pre-Christian Religion. 197 
 
 gressive revelation of Himself on earth, forms 
 the inward connecting thread of history." In 
 other words, though Christianity is the highest, 
 it is not the only, revelation. " He has never 
 left Himself without witness." By the beau- 
 ties and the terrors of nature, by the light of 
 imagination and reason, by the still small voice 
 of conscience, by the teachings of human love, 
 by that strange sense of dissatisfaction felt even 
 in the supreme moment of success achieved or 
 desire fulfilled, by the inextinguishable yearning 
 for something better and more enduring than 
 has ever been found on earth, as weU as by 
 influences too subtle for us to name or com- 
 prehend, God has been revealing Himself from 
 the beginning until now, wherever the foot of 
 man has trod, with a fulness and distinctness 
 continually increasing, in proportion to the grow- 
 ing capacities of the race. The revelation of the 
 almighty Father is free as the air, broad as the 
 horizon, universal as His own divine presence ; 
 
 " And so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. " 
 
1 98 
 
 Christianity and Pre-Christian 
 Religion. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 " God, who at sundry times, and In divers manners, spalte in time 
 past unto tlie fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days 
 spoken unto us by His Son." — Hebrews i. 1, 2. 
 
 " The Word became flesh." — John i. 14. 
 
 npAKINGr up the subject where we left it in 
 -^ the last sermon, let us, before considering 
 the Incarnation, look for a moment at the Jewish 
 faith. Lying at the root of this religion is the 
 idea that the human race is one, in origin and 
 end — one, because of its dependence upon a 
 God who loveth righteousness. Both accounts 
 of the creation which we find in the Book of 
 Genesis agree, in asserting emphatically that 
 man is not merely the creature, but the child, 
 
The Incarnation. 199 
 
 of the Creator. In the first account, we read 
 that man was made in the divine image. In 
 the second, it is said that man's soul was the 
 breath of God. And as the race was one in 
 origin, so the Jews thought it was one in end. 
 They beHeved in the gradual and universal 
 restoration of the divine image, which had been 
 effaced by sin. From the time of Abraham 
 to Malachi, a period of not less than fifteen 
 hundred years, we find among this ancient 
 people an almost unbroken succession of spirit- 
 ual seers, such as has no parallel in the world's 
 history, who were constantly exhorting their 
 fellow-countrymen to the practice of righteous- 
 ness, and reminding them of a time when it 
 would be completely victorious and absolutely 
 universaL 
 
 I say this was the most radical conception 
 of the Jewish faith. But at the same time it 
 was an idea which the ordinary, commonplace 
 Israelites were very slow to grasp. They fancied 
 themselves the favourites of Heaven, because 
 they were Jews. They imagined they could 
 win the approval of God by the performance 
 of rites and ceremonies. These mistakes it was 
 the constant effort of the prophets to rectify. 
 Among the Jews — as among aU other nations — 
 
200 The Incarnation. 
 
 priests and prophets had but little in common. 
 Priests, ordained by men to observe a certain 
 ritual, and prophets, ordained by God to dis- 
 seminate new ideas, are always more or less at 
 variance. The Jewish seers were continually 
 pointing out the hoUowness and worthlessness of 
 mere ceremonialism. " I hate and despise your 
 feast-days. Though ye offer me burnt-offerings 
 and meat-offerings, I will not accept them. Take 
 away from me the noise of your songs ; I will 
 not hear the melody of thy viols. But let 
 justice run down as water, and righteousness 
 as a mighty stream." " Will the Lord be 
 pleased with thousands of rams, and ten thou- 
 sands of rivers of oil ? What doth the Lord 
 require of thee, but to do justly, and to love 
 mercy, and to walli humbly with thy God ? " 
 " The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit and 
 a contrite heart." 
 
 Closely connected with the idea of the worth- 
 lessness of ceremonies as such, is another idea — 
 viz., the worthlessness of the Jew as Jew. The 
 priests were inclined to regard Israelites as the 
 only people of God. But the prophets pointed 
 out that the promises — the " covenant " as it 
 was called — applied only to faithful Israel, to 
 Israelites in heart, to a spiritual people and not 
 
The Incarnation, joi 
 
 to a privileged race. They declared that Jews, 
 who had nothing but their ceremonialism to 
 recommend them, would be rejected by God ; 
 while Gentiles who loved righteousness would 
 be received. And thus they laid the basis of a 
 spiritual and universal religion, in which nation- 
 ality conferred no benefit, and in which Jehovah 
 was the God of all kindreds and nations and 
 tongues. This thought pervades the entire 
 prophecy of the later Isaiah.^ 
 
 There are two striking characteristics of Juda- 
 ism, as thus represented by its highest exponents. 
 The first is a passionate enthusiasm for right- 
 eousness. " Other nations," it has been well 
 said, " had the idea ; but to feel it enough to 
 make the world feel it, it was necessary to be 
 possessed with it. It is not enough to have 
 been visited by such an idea at times — to 
 have had it occasionally forced upon one's 
 mind by the teaching of experience. No ! ' he 
 that hath the bride is the bridegroom.' The idea 
 belongs to him who has most loved it. Common 
 prudence can say. Honesty is the best policy. 
 But Israel and the Bible are fiUed with religious 
 joy." " Lord, what love have I unto Thy law ; 
 all the day long is my study in it. Thy testi- 
 » See ' Faiths of the "World," p. 354. 
 
202 The Incarnation. 
 
 monies are the joy of my heart. Thou shalt 
 teach them to thy children, and shalt talk of 
 them when thou sifctest in thine house, when 
 thou walkest by the way, when thou liest down, 
 and when thou risest up. Thou shalt write them 
 on the tahle of thine heart." Eighteousness they 
 regarded as the very essence of religion. To fear 
 the Lord was to depart from evil. This was 
 understanding, this was wisdom. This was the 
 best possession. " She is more precious than 
 rubies ; and aU the things thou canst desire are 
 not to be compared unto her. Take fast hold of 
 her ; let her not go ; keep her ; for she is thy 
 life." To this very day, whoever would be a 
 lover of righteousness must still derive much of 
 his inspiration from the writings of those Hebrew 
 psalmists and seers. In the matter of religion 
 the Jews stand out conspicuously from the rest 
 of mankind, just as the Greeks are pre-eminent 
 in art. 
 
 Another very striking characteristic of the 
 Jewish faith was a vivid realisation of the 
 presence of a personal God. Matthew Arnold 
 is doubtless right in saying that they had no 
 abstract metaphysical notions of the Deity — that 
 they could not, for example, have composed the 
 Athanasian Creed. But assuredly he is greatly 
 
The Incarnation. 203 
 
 mistaken when he asserts that they regarded 
 the Almighty as an impersonal Being, that by 
 God they merely meant <Ae stream, 0/ tendency 
 by which things fulfil the law of their being. 
 Such a conception of God — which, by the way, 
 is far more abstrusely metaphysical than per- 
 sonality — such a conception would never have 
 called forth those outbursts of religious emotion 
 which we find in the Old Testament. "The 
 Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He 
 maketh me to lie down in green pastures : He 
 leadeth me beside the still waters. . . . Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil : for Thou art with 
 me." "As the hart panteth after the water- 
 brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, God." 
 No man could ever speak in this way of what 
 he regarded as a mere stream of tendency. 
 
 In the next sermon we shall see what were 
 the radical deficiencies of Judaism, and how they 
 were corrected by Christianity. Meanwhile the 
 fact must be noticed, that there came a decline 
 of the God-consciousness among the Jews. In- 
 spiration seemed at an end. The word of the 
 Lord became precious, as the Bible has it — that 
 is to say, scarce — in those days. The young men 
 saw no visions, the old men dreamed no dreams. 
 
204 The Incarnation. ■ 
 
 There was no one pure enough or true enough to 
 become a prophet of the Lord. The degeneration 
 of the Jewish religion is significantly shown, as 
 Ewald has pointed out, by the treatment of the 
 name Jehovah. The Egyptians, you remember, 
 held that the Supreme Being should be wor- 
 shipped in silence ; and they never bestowed 
 upon Him any appellation. The Jews at last 
 began to foUow their example. The sacred 
 name Jehovah, they maintained, could not be 
 pronounced without desecration ; and so it was 
 ordained that it should never be uttered at all. 
 This practice would gradually generate the theory, 
 that human language was incapable of conveying 
 any knowledge of the Almighty ; that He was a 
 God afar off, and not near at hand ; and that 
 human life was practically unaffected by His 
 existence. Thus the God of the ancient com- 
 munity, who had been, as the Psalmist used 
 to say, " a very present help," was ever retiring 
 further and further into the mysterious distance, 
 tiU at last He became a mere logical abstraction 
 ■ — something like the Unknowable of Herbert 
 Spencer's philosophy. 
 
 And what of Greece and Eome ? As St Paul, 
 in his speech on Mars Hill, reminded the Athe- 
 nians, more than one of their own poets had 
 
The Incarnation. 205 
 
 taught, in common with Judaism and Christian- 
 ity, the doctrine that man was the offspring of 
 God. The Greek dramatists had a vivid con- 
 sciousness of the divine superintendence of 
 human affairs. The main purpose of their 
 drama, especially in the case of ^Eschylus, was 
 to exhibit the moral order of the world, and to 
 represent God's government as righteous, and 
 always in the end triumphant. Plato had even 
 grasped the idea of immortality, and that with 
 a firmness and fulness never found among the 
 Jews.^ " The life beyond the grave was to him 
 the only real existence : death was the enfran- 
 chisement from the prison of the body ; the 
 harbour of rest from the storms of life ; the 
 reunion of long -parted friends ; the admission 
 into the society of the wise and good of former 
 ages ; the attainment of that perfect goodness 
 and wisdom and beauty, which had been the 
 yearning of the embodied spirit during the years 
 of its mortal life." Plato himself, however, saw 
 and acknowledged that the world needed a 
 fuller revelation than any which it had yet 
 received. With regard to the populace, for 
 some centuries before the time of Christ they 
 
 ' For the opinions of the Jews on a future state, see my 
 'Agnosticism,' pp. 297-302. 
 
2o6 The Incarnation. 
 
 were entirely without anything that could be 
 callied religion. The Sophists, by their shallow 
 rationalism, had undermined every deeper sen- 
 timent connected with the old mythology; and 
 the lofty views of the more profound philo- 
 sophers the common people were incapable of 
 appreciating. 
 
 The Eomans were, at first, a very religious 
 people, in the ceremonial sense of the word 
 religion. Every hearth had an altar of its own, 
 on which the sacred fire was always burning ; 
 every family was an assembly of worshippers ; 
 every father was a priest. "Worship — or at least 
 sacred ceremonies — entered into every act of 
 the Eoman's life, private, domestic, social, polit- 
 ical. It was, however, a worship rather of the 
 letter than of the spirit. " In aU religious acts, 
 e.g., prayer had a prominent place ; yet it seems 
 rarely, if ever, to have taken the form of suppli- 
 cation for moral or spiritual blessing." At one 
 time the Eomans appear to have regarded the 
 ruling of the world as a work intrusted to them 
 by Providence; but, enervated at last by their 
 successes, they gradually degenerated in char- 
 acter, until — with the exception of a few phil- 
 osophers — they answered to St Paul's terrible 
 description. 
 
The Incarnation. 207 
 
 Having thus noticed one or two of the more 
 characteristic features of pre-Christian religion, 
 let us pass on to consider the advent of a new 
 and higher revelation in Christ. " The Word," 
 says St John, " became flesh, and dwelt among 
 us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of 
 the only begotten of the Father." The expression 
 "Word of God" in the New Testament, cor- 
 responds to what is called the " Name of God " 
 in the Old. Both terms are very apt and 
 suggestive. Among the Jews, as among all 
 primitive people, names had a meaning; they 
 were significant of the qualities or characteristics 
 of the person named. The name of God, there- 
 fore, implied those divine attributes which had 
 been already revealed and recognised. In other 
 words, by the name of God a Jew meant God in 
 so far as Se, was known. This you may see 
 from such passages as the following: "They 
 that know Thy name will put their trust in 
 Thee." " How excellent is Thy name in all the 
 earth ! " " Do not abhor us, for Thy name's 
 sake." And the same notion is involved in the 
 term " Logos " (Word), a term that had been 
 frequently used by Philo and the Alexandrine 
 philosophers. As a name among the ancients 
 revealed the qualities of the person named, so 
 
2o8 The Incarnation. 
 
 a word reveals the character of the thought for 
 which it stands. And just as a word is the 
 revelation of a thought, so Christ is the rev- 
 elation of God. The Word of God, therefore,, 
 is God as uttered or manifested or expressed. 
 When it is said the Word became flesh — or, as 
 a Hebrew of the old school would have put it, 
 the Name became flesh — the meaning is, that 
 all previous revelations were supplemented, and 
 in some degree superseded, by a manifestation 
 of the Deity in a divinely human life. 
 
 The nature and effect of this new revelation 
 we shall have to study somewhat in detail in 
 the next two sermons. In the meantime, let me 
 draw your attention to its most distinctive feature 
 — viz., its absolute uniqueness. Account for it 
 how you may, the life and work of Christ were 
 so different, so superior, to those of all other men, 
 that He must be called, in a special sense, divine. 
 We are obliged to recognise Him as the Son of 
 God. " It is common in human history," says 
 the author of ' Ecce Homo,' " to meet with men 
 who assert some superiority over their fellows, 
 but they dream of nothing greater than some 
 partial control over the actions of others for the 
 short space of a lifetime. To a few, indeed, it 
 is given to influence future ages. Some have 
 
The Incarnation. 209 
 
 appeared who have been as levers to uplift the 
 earth and roll it in another course. Homer by- 
 creating literature, Socrates by creating science, 
 Csesar by carrying civilisation inland from the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, Newton by starting 
 science in a steady career of progress, may be 
 said to have attained this eminence. But these 
 men gave a single impact, like that which is 
 considered to have first set planets in motion. 
 Christ claims to be a perpetual attractive power, 
 like the sun which determines their orbits. 
 They contributed to men some discovery, and 
 passed away : Christ's discovery is Himself. 
 To humanity, struggling with its passions and 
 its destiny, He says, ' Cling to me — cling ever 
 closer to me.' He commanded men to leave 
 everything and attach themselves to Him ; He 
 declared Himself King, Master and Judge of 
 men ; He promised to give rest to all the weary 
 and heavy laden ; He instructed His followers to 
 hope for eternal life from feeding on His body 
 and blood. Further, these enormous preten- 
 sions were advanced by One whose special pecu- 
 liarity, not only among His contemporaries, but 
 among the remarkable men that have appeared 
 before and since, was an almost feminine tender- 
 
 
2IO The Incarnation. 
 
 ness and humility. The ' Lamb of God,' He 
 had been called by the Baptist. Yet so clear 
 to Him was His own dignity and importance 
 to the race, that in the very same breath in 
 which He asserts it in the most unmeasured 
 language. He alludes also to His humility. 
 ' Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; 
 for I am meek and lowly in heart.' Meek 
 and lowly He was! — naturally content with 
 obscurity ; wanting the restless desire for dis- 
 tinction and eminence which is common in great 
 men ; fond of what was simple and homely, of 
 children and poor people ; occupying Himself 
 so much with the concerns of others, with the 
 relief of sickness and want, that the temptation 
 to exaggerate the importance of His own thoughts 
 and plans was not likely to master Him. And 
 yet we find that He laid claim persistently, with 
 the calmness of entire conviction, in opposition 
 to the whole religious world, in spite of the 
 offence which His own followers conceived, to 
 a dominion more transcendent, more universal, 
 more complete, than the most delirious votary of 
 glory ever aspired to in his dreams." 
 
 If Christ were not in a very unique sense 
 divine, Socrates and Mahomet, and a host of 
 
The Incarnation. 2 1 1 
 
 others, were far wiser and better than He. 
 The Grecian sage declared that his only wis- 
 dom was a consciousness of ignorance ; and 
 he constantly confessed to his hearers that he 
 was merely a fellow-seeker with them after 
 truth and goodness. The Nazarene maintained, 
 on the contrary, that He was the light of the 
 world, the shepherd of the souls of men, the 
 way to eternal life, the vine or the life-tree of 
 humanity. The prophet of Islam never allowed 
 an expression to escape him which could be 
 construed into a request for human worship. 
 The whole tenor of Christ's teaching, on the 
 contrary, was in harmony with His own ex- 
 plicit demand, that all men should honour the 
 Son, even as they honour the Father. Either, 
 then, Christ was more than a good man, or He 
 was a very bad man. He must be placed either 
 far above the world's noblest teachers, or far 
 below the meanest. Either He was inordinately 
 conceited — so conceited as to be continually 
 guilty of the grossest blasphemy; or He was 
 the brightness of the Father's glory, the express 
 image of His person. Either He had a selfish 
 paltry thirst for popularity, which led Him to 
 demand from men, at the risk of their soul's 
 
212 The Incarnation. 
 
 perdition, a worship to which He had not the 
 slightest claim, or else He was God manifest in 
 the flesh, the only begotten of the Father. 
 
 We must choose between these alternative 
 suppositions. Which do you suppose is the 
 more reasonable of the two ? 
 
Christianity and Pre-Christian 
 Religion. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 "God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself." 
 —2 CoE. v. 19. 
 
 rpHE word atonement is synonymous with re- 
 -*- conciliation. It means etymologicaUy, as 
 you see, at-one-ment — the bringing to an un- 
 derstanding those who have misunderstood one 
 another, the reconciling those who had previ- 
 ously been at enmity. Hence it is manifest 
 that all relevation is, in a greater or less degree, 
 atoning. It will attract men towards God, in 
 so far as they can learn from it what He really 
 is. But the pre-Christian relevations were vague 
 and difficult to interpret. Nature, for example, 
 is sometimes beautiful and beneficent and lovely; 
 
214 The Atonement. 
 
 but sometimes also, with her earthquakes and 
 whirlwinds, her pains and diseases, she seems 
 to suggest to us a Power which does not care 
 whether we live or die, whether we have all 
 that heart can wish, or suffer lifelong, unmiti- 
 gated anguish. Conscience, again, has told every 
 man ever born into the world that there is a 
 distinction between right and wrong, that he 
 should do the one and avoid the other, that 
 right -doing is praiseworthy and wrong- doing 
 abominable. This much conscience tells him ; 
 but what he must do in order to act rightly, 
 he has to discover for himself. And the dis- 
 covery is not always easy. The Feejee Islander 
 kills his parents when they begin to grow old, 
 and he thinks he is thereby doing them a ser- 
 vice ; for he is afraid that otherwise they would 
 be too feeble to make their way into another life. 
 Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite, invited the 
 vanquished warrior Sisera into her tent, offering 
 him, as it seemed with feminine kindliness, re- 
 freshment and repose. He trusted her ; he feU 
 asleep ; and she killed him on the spot. She 
 thought she had acted nobly. Deborah and 
 Barak chanted a paean in her honour, and 
 declared that, in doing what she did, she 
 came to the help of the Lord. As if the 
 God of righteousness required to be supported 
 
The Atonement. 215 
 
 by treachery and meanness worthy only of a 
 fiend ! History, moreover, " which, to him who 
 reads it rightly, is but the God of truth working 
 out truth," is by no means easy to decipher. In 
 the long-run, right has always prevailed, and evil 
 has always proved itself to be foolish and inju- 
 rious : — in the long-run, but not necessarily in 
 the life of the individual. The tower of Siloam, 
 may fall upon the righteous. The wicked may 
 be in great power, and may " spread himself like 
 a green bay-tree," — even till he dies. And so we 
 may be often misled into mistaking good for evil, 
 and evil for good. These primeval revelations, 
 then, of nature and conscience and history, are 
 very difficult to interpret. 
 
 Hence men have often formed the most erro- 
 neous and unworthy conceptions of the Deity. 
 Some have regarded Him as indifferent to human 
 welfare, others as positively vindictive. Epicurus, 
 for example, taught that it was a waste of time 
 to worship the gods ; for they were too agreeably 
 employed to do men harm or good. 
 
 " They haunt (he said) 
 The lucid interspace of world and world, 
 Where never creeps a cloud or moves a wind. 
 Nor ever falls the least white star of snow, 
 Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans, 
 Nor sound of human sorrow mounts, to mar 
 Their sacred everlasting calm. " 
 
2 1 6 The Atonement. 
 
 The belief that God is indifferent is bad, but 
 the belief that He is vindictive is worse, and the 
 latter conception has been the more common of 
 the two. It lies, of course, at the root of all 
 the sacrifices of heathendom. Savages almost 
 always look upon their gods as powerful and 
 capricious beings, naturally inclined to do them 
 harm, but liable to be turned from their purpose 
 by a grateful savour, or a costly gift, or the 
 pleasing sight of blood. 
 
 To a superficial observer it might appear that 
 the sacrifices of Judaism implied the same sort 
 of belief. We know that this was the view com- 
 monly held in degenerate times by the masses of 
 the people. But the original intention of these 
 sacrifices was something very different. They are 
 to be distinguished from the sacrifices of heathen- 
 dom, by the fact that there existed among the 
 Jews a mercy-seat. This was a constant witness 
 to them that they did not need to extort mercy 
 from a grudging Deity, but that, on the contrary, 
 He wished to do them good. A Jewish sacrifice 
 was intended to typify self-surrender; it was 
 symbolical of a determination to serve the God 
 of righteousness. The mere giving up of a thing 
 was not sufficient, as the Jews were taught by 
 the story of Cain. The spirit of the worshipper 
 
The Atonement. 2 1 7 
 
 must be right with God. The sentimeut of his 
 heart must correspond with the meaning of the 
 symbol. Under the Levitical dispensation, you 
 remember, the Jews were obliged to offer up 
 the first-born of animals as dead sacrifices, and 
 the first-born of men (through the rite of cir- 
 cumcision) as living sacrifices. The first-born 
 represented their strength, their vitality, their 
 endurance. Hence the meaning of the sacrifice 
 was, that all which was best in the nation should 
 be devoted to the service of God. The same 
 remark applies to the Passover. That yearly 
 festival was a symbol of the people's consecra- 
 tion. Their being sprinkled with the life-blood 
 of the paschal lamb typified the dedication of 
 their own lives to Jehovah. So, too, with the 
 ceremonial purifications and the sacrifice of the 
 day of atonement. In conforming to these re- 
 quirements, they acknowledged the fact that they 
 belonged to the peculiar people, and that they 
 desired to participate in its duties and its priv- 
 ileges. If a man refused to comply with these 
 conditions, he cut himself off from the congrega- 
 tion of faithful Israelites. "Without the shed- 
 ding of blood there could be no remission." Not, 
 of course, that the blood of bulls and goats 
 -compensated for sin or annulled it. It merely 
 
2 1 8 The A tonement. 
 
 represented the worshipper's state of heart; it 
 symholised the fact that he was conscious of 
 his sin, and anxious to give it up — ^that he de- 
 sired to become a worthy memher of the nation 
 which felt itself chosen as the representative 
 of righteousness. 
 
 Such was the original intention of the Jewish 
 sacrifices. But the misinterpretation of symbols 
 is one of the commonest of human weaknesses, 
 and the Jews were constantly supposing that 
 their own institutions meant the same as those 
 of heathendom. They were constantly acting as 
 if the God of righteousness were a Moloch or a 
 Baal. Instead of regarding the sacrifices they 
 offered as emblems of a desire to depart from in- 
 iquity and to conform to God's will, they looked 
 on them as a means of purchasing immunity, so 
 long as they might please to continue in sin.' 
 Against such notions as these we find the prophets 
 continually protesting. They were so strongly im- 
 pressed with the magnitude of the mischief arising 
 from this misinterpretation of the ceremonial 
 law, that they often spoke of sacrifice as useless, 
 and even worse than useless. In Jeremiah, for 
 example, we read, " Thus saith the Lord of hosts, 
 I spake not unto your fathers concerning burnt- 
 offerings and sacrifices; but this I commanded 
 
The Atonement, 219 
 
 them, Obey my voice, and walk ye in my ways." 
 Similarly, in Isaiah, we read, " To what purpose 
 is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me ? saith 
 the Lord. Bring no more vain oblations ; in- 
 cense is an abomination unto me." But in spite 
 of all their protests, the prophets were rarely 
 successful in eradicating from the Jewish minds 
 their heathenish notions of sacrifice. 
 
 One reason, perhaps, why the Jews were so 
 inclined to look upon God as tyrannical and 
 capricious was this : they had little or no faith 
 in a future life.-' There are one or two well- 
 known passages in the Old Testament where 
 immortality is referred to ; but generally we find 
 it ignored. Under the Levitical dispensation the 
 rewards promised to right-doing were temporal, 
 and temporal only. For example, look at the 
 26th chapter of Leviticus : " If ye walk in my 
 statutes, and keep my commandments ; then I 
 will give you rain in due season, and the land 
 shall yield her increase, and I will rid evU beasts 
 out of the land ; " and so on for ten verses. " But 
 if ye will not hearken unto me, and will not do 
 aU these commandments ; I will appoint over you 
 terror and consumption and burning ague ; and 
 ye shall sow your seed in vain, for your enemies 
 1 See note p. 205, and 'Agnosticism,' pp. 297-302. 
 
220 The Atonement. 
 
 shall eat it. I will send wild beasts among you, 
 which shall rob you of your children, and destroy 
 your cattle ; " and so on for twenty-five verses. 
 There is no reference whatever to any possible 
 effect which their conduct might have upon them 
 in a future state. The author of the 89th Psalm 
 says : " Lord, where are Thy former loving- 
 kindnesses, which Thou swarest unto David ? 
 Eemember how short my time is: wherefore 
 hast Thou made all men in vain ? " The writer 
 of Ecclesiastes speaks after the same fashion : 
 " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with 
 thy might ; for there is no work, nor device, nor 
 knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave." And even 
 the prophets, who were never tired of alluding to 
 a future universal reign of righteousness, rarely 
 suggest to their hearers the possibility of their 
 own personal immortality. Isaiah himself said, 
 " The grave cannot praise Thee, death cannot 
 celebrate Thee." The few passages in the Old 
 Testament that refer to a future Ufe, evidently 
 had but little influence in moulding the belief 
 of the masses of the people. And amid the 
 chances and troubles of this life, those who are not 
 supported by a firm faith in another, inevitably' 
 come to think that " the ways of the Lord are 
 not equal " — that He is neither just nor good. 
 
The A ionement. 221 
 
 Evidently then, notwithstanding the teaching 
 of nature and conscience and history, and not- 
 withstanding the more definite teaching of speci- 
 ally inspired individuals, there was still need of 
 something more. 
 
 ' ' And so the "Word had flesh, and wrought 
 With human hands the creed of creeds, 
 In loveliness of perfect deeds. 
 More strong than all poetic thought. '' 
 
 In .Christ the lessons of all previous revela- 
 tions were gathered up, explained, and consum- 
 mated ; and the falsity of the views which had 
 kept humanity from God was fully and for ever 
 proved. A consciousness of guilt had led men 
 to believe that they were beneath the notice of 
 the Almighty ; or that if He considered them at 
 all, it would only be to condemn and to punish. 
 But Christ was " a propitiation." The word so 
 translated in our Bible means literally the 
 mercy-seat. We noticed just now that under 
 the Old Testament dispensation, the mercy-seat 
 was a constant witness to the Jews of the long- 
 suffering and favour of God. While the barba- 
 rians around were pouring out their blood, and 
 their children's blood, to appease the anger of 
 their gods, the Jews were reminded by the mercy- 
 seat that Jehovah was more willing to give than 
 
2 22 The Atonement. 
 
 they were to receive. So Christ is a propitia- 
 tion — a mercy-seat, as it were, from which God 
 reveals Himself to us as a God of love. " He 
 is our peace," says St Paul — that is, the revela- 
 tion to us that we may, if we will, be at peace 
 with God. " God was in Christ, reconciling," 
 not Himself unto the world, but " the world 
 unto Himself " — teaching men they had greatly 
 erred, in supposing that He was indifferent in 
 regard to human welfare, or vindictive in regard 
 to human sin. " Christ died " as He lived, " the 
 just for the unjust," not to bring God to us, but 
 " to bring us to God " — to prove to us that He 
 was already near. " By Him we have received 
 the atonement," for now our old misunderstand- 
 ings have been removed. " With His stripes we 
 have been healed ; " for had He not suffered, we 
 could not have known God as we do. It is 
 inconceivable that the inner nature of the Deity 
 could ever have been manifested to us, except by 
 the self-denial of a divinely human life. Christ's 
 suffering was not a sacrifice which God exacted, 
 in order that He might be appeased. No ; it 
 was a sacrifice which He provided, in order that 
 He might be eevealed. 
 
 " God is love.'' That is the Christian revela- 
 tion. AU other lessons which Christ taught, — 
 
The Atonement. 223 
 
 about the righteousness and justice of God, or 
 about the duty and destiny of man, — all other 
 lessons are summed up in that one primary truth, 
 just as every possible colour is contained in pure 
 white light. Christ voluntarily surrendered Him- 
 self, in life and in death, to the one task of re- 
 vealing the Father. It is impossible to discover 
 a single selfish action in the whole career of the 
 Eedeemer. He never gave a thought to His 
 own physical comfort, and yet was always mind- 
 ful of the wants of those who were about Him. 
 He would not use His extraordinary powers for 
 His own advancement, but was never tired of 
 employing them for the good of others. The 
 great Teacher of the ages was not self-absorbed, 
 but could spare time to be kind and genial even 
 to little children. He who found it His meat 
 and drink to do His Father's will, was no gloomy 
 egotist, but was fond of showing His sympathy 
 for men by joining them at the social board or 
 the marriage-feast. He who was so strong as 
 never to yield to the fiercest temptation, was yet 
 so gentle as to make allowance for sinners whom 
 society would have hounded to destruction. He 
 who had been all His life homeless, knowing not 
 where to lay His head, was careful to provide a 
 home for His mother, even when He was in the 
 
224 The Atonement. 
 
 very agony of death. His anger itself was a 
 proof of His kindness to men. He was indig- 
 nant with the Pharisees and Scribes, not because 
 they were sinners, but because they, and such as 
 they in all time, persist in creating obstacles for 
 those who would enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. He who was, in an altogether unique 
 sense, the Son of God, delighted to call Himself 
 the Son of man ; went about continually doing 
 good ; sought not to be ministered unto, but to 
 minister ; and declared that He was ready, like 
 a good shepherd, to lay down His life for the 
 sheep. Thus Christ's work from the first was 
 one of reconciliation. His whole career was 
 sacrificial and atoning. From the very begin- 
 ning of His ministry He gave Himself unre- 
 servedly to the world. His death was but 
 the last and steepest step of the altar of self- 
 sacrifice He had been so long ascending. But 
 on Calvary His divine patience and forbearance 
 were brought out in greater relief. Here was 
 " love deeply wronged, daring to love on even 
 unto death, in the face of the enormity that had 
 wronged it." Here was the most absolute sin- 
 lessness united to the most perfect sympathy 
 for men. Here was divine goodness, and that 
 goodness was self-sacrificing. Here was the old 
 
The Atonement. 225 
 
 Aryan belief in the Heaven-Father ^ worked out 
 in very deed. The theory had become a fact. 
 The lesson of His death was the lesson of His 
 life, repeated with greater fulness, and taught 
 with greater power — the lesson that God is love. 
 And so the cross has come to mean all that 
 Christ did and taught and was. Once a symbol 
 of disgrace, it is now an emblem of triumph. It 
 is the noblest word in human speech. It repre- 
 sents all that is divinest in the universe of God. 
 
 1 See p. 188. 
 
226 
 
 Christianity and Pre-Christian 
 Religion. 
 
 IV. 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 He "gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all 
 iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous 
 of good works." — Titus ii. 14. 
 
 TTTE have in the previous sermons been en- 
 ' ' gaged in comparing Christianity with pre- 
 Christian religions. We saw that God had 
 never left Himself without witness, but that 
 everywhere and to all men He had revealed 
 Himself with more or less distinctness, in pro- 
 portion as they were able to bear it. We then 
 passed on to consider the Incarnation, or the 
 new and higher revelation which was given in 
 Christ. We saw how this last revelation, by 
 reason of its clearness and fulness, naturally and 
 necessarily involved the Atonement. God was 
 
Redemption. 227 
 
 in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself, 
 removing men's misunderstandings, and teaching 
 them that He was a God of love. In the 
 present sermon, I have to ask you to consider 
 Eedemption, or the reformation of character 
 which is inevitably effected in the genuine 
 disciples of Christ. " He gave Himself for us, 
 that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and 
 purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of 
 good works." 
 
 We have already noticed the heathenish idea 
 of sacrifice, which represents it as something 
 required in order to appease the anger of the 
 Deity; and we have contrasted this with the 
 Scriptural view that God is waiting to be gra- 
 cious. There is also a heathenish idea of re- 
 demption, which has sometimes been adopted by 
 so-called Christian sects. Among the many per- 
 versions of Christianity, this is the most horrible 
 and the most blasphemous. It has been held 
 that, for the believer in Christ, sin is a matter 
 of no moment whatsoever. He has borne, it is 
 said, the punishment of all our sins, and so we 
 need not be afraid of having to bear the punish- 
 ment of any. He died, in fact, that we might 
 sin with impunity. He, so to speak, compounded, 
 for all the enormities which it might ever please 
 
2 28 Redemption. 
 
 us to commit. In a word, the God of righteous- 
 ness became incarnate for the sake of encour- 
 aging iniquity ! 
 
 In a less extreme form this theory has un- 
 happily been exceedingly common. I allude 
 to the notion that belief — as it is called — if 
 not everything, is at any rate far more im- 
 portant than conduct. This idea is most mis- 
 chievous in its results ; and if you come to 
 look at it, is in itself absurd. The belief which 
 does not show itself in conduct is but a spurious 
 belief. If a man says he believes in Christ, and 
 acts continually as if Christ had never lived, 
 what are we to infer ? Why this ; that he 
 persuades himself he believes, merely because 
 he does not disbelieve. But not to disbe- 
 lieve and to believe are two totally different 
 things. It is impossible really to believe in the 
 value of the Eedeemer's work, without endeav- 
 ouring to be redeemed ; and to be redeemed is 
 to be saved, not from punishment, at least not in 
 the first instance, but from sin ; to be saved, not 
 in spite of our sins, but from the sins themselves ; 
 to be saved, not from the wrath of God, but 
 from the thraldom of our baser self. " With 
 the heart man believeth unto righteousness." 
 In other words, he who really believes in Christ 
 
Redemption. 229 
 
 must become, as a matter of necessity, Christ- 
 like. " He died," we are told, " to put away " 
 [not punishment, but] " sin, by the sacrifice of 
 Himself." " He has washed us," we read, " from 
 our sins in His own blood " — blood meaning, 
 of course, the life which He sacrificed in His 
 atoning and reconciling work. We are to be 
 " redeemed from our vain conversation." We 
 are to be " renewed in the spirit of our minds." 
 We are to be " created again unto righteousness." 
 Our conscience is to be " purged from dead 
 works, to serve the living God." " God is 
 just," we are told, " and the justifier of him 
 that believeth " — that is, the righteous God en- 
 ables us, through Christ, to become ourselves 
 righteous. Christ is to be " made unto us right- 
 eousness, and sanctification, and [in a word] re- 
 demption." " He gave Himself for us, that He 
 might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
 unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good 
 works." 
 
 The redemption, then, at which Christ aimed, 
 was a redemption from sin. Now let us inquire 
 how He proposed to effect this, and why it was 
 He succeeded, when others before Him had failed. 
 Centuries prior to His advent, the Jews, as we 
 have seen, had a passionate enthusiasm for right- 
 
2 30 Redemption. 
 
 eousness, which distinguished them from all 
 other nations upon earth. But we know how 
 they had deteriorated by the time Christ came. 
 And we cannot be surprised that their ardour 
 cooled. They had no criterion of wrong but 
 specific prohibitions, and no criterion of right 
 but temporal prosperity. The latter was false, 
 and was distinctly declared to be so by Christ : 
 the good man. He taught, was not always pros- 
 perous, nor was the bad man always in adversity. 
 And as to the Jewish criterion of wrong, there 
 is something very damping to enthusiasm in the 
 constant reiteration of " thou shalt not." But 
 the Jews kept on multiplying their negative com- 
 mandments indefinitely. Tor example, they dis- 
 covered that there were thirty-nine different 
 ways in which the Sabbath could be broken. 
 The tying and loosing of knots on that day was 
 long felt to be a delicate problem ; but finally, it 
 was decided that knots which could be managed 
 with one hand might be considered Sabbatic 
 knots, but that those which required both hands 
 must on no account be touched. In the time of 
 our Lord, the Pharisees and Scribes were learned 
 in all this traditional lore, and punctilious in ob- 
 serving it ; and they were at the same time the 
 most contemptible set of men who ever opposed 
 
Redemption. 231 
 
 themselves to real goodness. And no wonder. 
 They were so afraid of doing wrong, that they 
 had neither time nor inclination to do right. A 
 certain amount of abandon, an enthusiasm that 
 will carry us beyond the strict requirements of 
 the law, is necessary for the attainment of any- 
 thing like eminence in virtue. And it is just 
 this enthusiasm which 'Christ supplied. He 
 aimed at redeeming men by the " attractive 
 power of His own personality." 
 
 The first thing that must strike any one who 
 reads carefully the history of Christ, is the im- 
 mense importance He attached, not merely to 
 His mission, but to Himself. Every great 
 teacher, with this single exception, in exact 
 proportion to his greatness, has been willing to 
 be cast into the shade by the glory of the truth 
 which he wished to teach. But not so Christ. 
 He was frequently placing Himself before His 
 disciples as an object for veneration and worship. 
 They must be willing. He taught, to leave every- 
 thing for Him. They must not count their lives 
 dear unto them, if His service should demand 
 their death. Their spiritual nature was to be 
 nurtured by communion with His spirit, in such 
 a way that they might be said to " eat the flesh 
 and drink the blood of the Son of man." Their 
 
232 Redemption. 
 
 devotedness to Him was to be so passionate and 
 intense, that in comparison with it, all other loves 
 would seem but as hatred. 
 
 It is by this demand that Christ is distin- 
 guished from the rest of the world's teachers. 
 It is because He made it, and had a right to 
 make it, that His success has been so marvel- 
 lously great. Much of what He taught had been 
 already anticipated. Gautama, Confucius, and 
 HnieP had pronounced the golden rule. The 
 Stoics had urged on their disciples the duty of 
 treating all men, if not as brethren, at least as 
 fellow-citizens. But this teaching had had com- 
 paratively little effect. The philosophers might 
 exhort to unselfishness, but instinct and habit 
 were too strong, and were frequently reasserting 
 themselves. The influence of mere teaching is 
 always very small. Juvenal, to use a familiar 
 illustration, was a Stoic, trained up in the 
 doctrine that the wise and good of all nations 
 were alike citizens in the city of God ; and yet 
 the mixture of races in Eome excited in him the 
 bitterest contempt. Nay, it was this partial 
 realisation of the ideal of his own philosophy, 
 which made him the cynic and the satirist that 
 
 ' The last two, however, had only given it in its negative 
 form. 
 
Redemption. 233 
 
 he was. So far is it possible for theory to be 
 divorced from practice. 
 
 But Christ not only taught, He inspired. 
 He appealed not so much to the intellect as 
 to the hearts of men. The passions which 
 other teachers had sought to put under the 
 control of Eeason, He aimed at controlling by 
 the creation of a yet more powerful passion — 
 an all-absorbing attachment to Himself. He 
 knew that if selfishness can be eradicated, sin 
 will be destroyed. All sin is in the last resort 
 but the undue appreciation of self. " The diffi- 
 culty of discovering what is right commonly 
 arises from the prevalence of self-interest in our 
 minds; and as we generally behave rightly to 
 any one for whom we feel affection or sympathy, 
 Christ considered that he who could feel sym- 
 pathy for all would behave rightly to all." 
 He endeavoured to create in men this uni- 
 versal sympathy for their fellows, by first 
 creating in them an enthusiastic sympathy for 
 Himself. He knew that we must inevitably 
 grow like what we supremely love. " If ye 
 love me," He said, " ye will keep my command- 
 ments." He was the very impersonation of un- 
 selfishness. His whole career was one prolonged 
 self-sacrifice. " He loved us, and gave Himself 
 
2 34 Redemption. 
 
 for us." To love Christ, therefore, is to love 
 Love. It is to be filled with a divine enthu- 
 siasm for goodness which converts self-denial 
 into the highest joy. 
 
 This it was, then, at which Christ aimed, and 
 this He actually succeeded in accomplishing. 
 " He convinced men," says the author of ' Ecce 
 Homo,' " that He was a person of altogether tran- 
 scendent greatness, and that yet He had devoted 
 Himself, of mere benevolence, to their good. He 
 showed them that for their sakes He lived a 
 hard and laborious life, and exposed Himself to 
 the utmost malice of powerful men. They saw 
 Him hungry, though they believed Him able to 
 turn stones into bread ; they saw His royal pre- 
 tensions spurned, though they believed that He 
 could in a moment take into His hand all the 
 kingdoms of the world and the glory of them ; 
 they saw Him at last expire in agonies, though 
 they believed that, had He so willed it, no dan- 
 ger could harm Him, and that, had He thrown 
 Himself from the topmost pinnacle of the Tem- 
 ple, He would have been received softly into 
 the arms of ministering angels. Witnessing His 
 sufferings, and convinced that they were volun- 
 tarily endured, men's hearts were touched, and 
 an agitation of gratitude, sympathy and aston- 
 
Redemption. 235 
 
 ishment, such as nothing else could ever excite, 
 sprang up in them. And when, turning from 
 His deeds to His words, they found this very 
 self-denial which had guided His own life, pre- 
 scribed as a principle which should guide theirs, 
 gratitude broke forth in cheerful obedience, and 
 the Law and the Lawgiver were enshrined in 
 their hearts for inseparable veneration." 
 
 It was in this way that Christ succeeded in 
 giving men a universal test of right, infinitely 
 better than the most elaborate system of rules — 
 better, just because it was a test which was at 
 the same time an inspiration. It was not by 
 the mere statement of the golden rule that He 
 revolutionised the world j it was because He im- 
 planted it in men's inmost hearts. " There have 
 been not a few who have found it possible to 
 conceive for Christ an attachment, the closeness 
 of which no words can express — an attachment 
 so absorbing that they have said, ' I live no 
 more, but Christ liveth in me.' Now such a 
 feeling carries with it of necessity the feeling 
 of love for all human beings. They have been 
 made sacred by a reflected glory. It matters no 
 longer what quality men may exhibit, amiable 
 or unamiable ; as the brothers of Christ, as the 
 objects of His love in life and death, they must 
 
236 Redemption. 
 
 be dear to all to whom He is dear. The true 
 disciple of Christ must think of the whole race, 
 and of every member of it, with awful reverence 
 and hope. If some human beings are abject and 
 contemptible, if it be incredible to us that they 
 have any high dignity or destiny, do we regard 
 them from so great a height as Christ ? Are we 
 likely to be more pained by their faults and de- 
 ficiencies than He was ? Is our standard higher 
 than His ? And yet He associated with these 
 meanest of the race. No contempt for them did 
 He ever express ; no suspicion that they might be 
 less dear to the common Father ; no doubt that 
 they were capable of becoming perfect even as 
 He was perfect. There is nothing of which a 
 man may be prouder than of this ; it is the most 
 hopeful fact in human history. An eternal glory 
 has been shed over the human race by the love 
 Christ bore it. And so, along with the law of 
 love, the power of love was given." The chief 
 apostle of Him who was made a curse for sin, 
 had grown so like his Master as to be able to 
 say — " I could wish that myself were accursed 
 from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen accord- 
 ing to the flesh." 
 
 To be a Christian, then, it is not enough to be 
 a member of a Christian Church. " Many walk," 
 
Redemption . 237 
 
 says St Paul, " of whom I have told you that they 
 are the enemies of the cross of Christ." To be a 
 Christian, it is not enough to profess a belief in 
 certain propositions about Christ and His work. 
 " Not every one that saith unto me. Lord, Lord, 
 shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." To be 
 a Christian, it is not enough to be free from what 
 are commonly called sins. It was to the man 
 who had kept all the commandments from his 
 youth that the Saviour said, " One thing thou 
 lackest " — that one thing without which he could 
 not enter into the kingdom of God. We some- 
 times think it is comparatively easy now to be 
 a Christian — easier far than in the old times of 
 martyrdom. But it is not. The spirit which 
 was in the martyrs must be in us, or we are un- 
 worthy to bear the name of Christ. The spirit 
 which impelled them to sacrifice themselves for 
 Him in death, should inspire us to sacrifice our- 
 selves for Him in life. He should be to us as 
 He was to them — ^more dear than anything else 
 the world contains. We should think it our 
 highest joy to take up the cross of self-denial 
 and follow Him " whithersoever He goeth." 
 
 This is a lofty standard. We may feel as if 
 we could never attain it. But unless we have a 
 sincere desire to do so, calling ourselves after the 
 
238 Redemption. 
 
 name of Christ is nothing short of blasphemy. 
 The accusation is constantly brought against 
 Christianity, that those who profess it are not 
 better than their neighbours, but, on the contrary, 
 rather worse, narrower in their sympathies, 
 harsher in their judgments, more petty in their 
 aims, more grossly selfish in their actions — a 
 peculiar people indeed, but only in the sense of 
 being peculiarly disagreeable. Woe betide us if 
 we do anything to justify this accusation ! Sir, 
 if Christ is nothing more to you than any 
 ordinary historical personage ; if your heart has 
 never been touched by the old, old story of the 
 Cross ; if you see no beauty in a life of self- 
 denial ; if you have no intention of making any 
 sacrifices in behalf of your fellow-men for whom 
 Christ died, — then, for God's sake, I adjure you, 
 do not call yourself a Christian. Why must you 
 bring the name of Christ into contempt ? Is it 
 not enough to treat Him with indifference ? Can 
 you not be satisfied with ignoring Him ? What 
 harm has He done you, that you must positively 
 insult Him ? Will nothing content you but to 
 crucify the Son of God afresh, and put Hini to 
 an open shame ? 
 
239 
 
 Christmas-Day 
 
 " On earth peace, goodwill toward men." — Luke ii. 14. 
 
 rpHEEE is considerable difference of opinion 
 -*- as to what is the best reading and the 
 best rendering of this passage. According to 
 Dean Alford and the Eevised Version, we should 
 understand it to mean, peace among the men 
 towards whom God has a goodwill — that is, 
 among those in whom He is well pleased. Ac- 
 cording to the Vulgate the meaning should be, 
 peace to men who exhibit a goodwill. This 
 is the sense adopted by Keble in his Christmas 
 Hymn. The reading of the Authorised Version 
 is not, perhaps, the best; but as being more 
 familiar, and at the same time so thoroughly in 
 harmony with the spirit of the day, I shall take 
 it as a motto. 
 
 It must be confessed that the conduct of 
 
240 Christinas-Day. 
 
 professing Christians has often been such, as to 
 make the angel's song sound like an ironical 
 sarcasm on Christianity, rather than a eulogy. 
 Church History, for example, to a passionate 
 lover of peace and goodwill, must be very 
 melancholy reading. Almost every page of it 
 tends to obscure the beauty of Christ's character, 
 and to hide the meaning and purpose of His life. 
 It is concerned almost entirely with dogmas, 
 formulas, definitions, — for which Christ cared 
 nothing. Jesus most assuredly never would have 
 said " Whosoever will be saved, it is above all 
 things necessary that he thus think of a doc- 
 trine." The Christianity of Christ consisted in 
 living a certain life. The Christianity of Christ- 
 endom resolved itself into " thinking of " certain 
 dogmas. 
 
 For a long time the fiercest controversy raged 
 as to whether Christ were homomisios or homoi- 
 ousios, — i.e., whether He were in substance the 
 same as the Father, or only similar. These two 
 words differ by one letter — the smallest in the 
 Greek alphabet ; and this difference pretty well 
 represents the importance of the discussion. If 
 Christ was decided to be homooudos, the world 
 would be none the better; if homowusios, none 
 the worse. For just think. The controversy 
 
Christmas-Day. 241 
 
 was almost meaningless, — to the non-philosophi- 
 cal public, quite meaningless. This word, " sub- 
 stance," you must know, means in metaphysics 
 not what it means in common language, but just 
 the opposite. It stands, not for what is tangible 
 and palpable, but for what is intangible and im- 
 palpable. It represents, not what appears to the 
 senses, but what does not so appear. The sub- 
 stance of anything is, roughly speaking, that 
 which it is conceived to be in itself, in contra- 
 distinction to our perception of it. By Christ's 
 substance would be intended not His body, nor 
 even His mind, but rather the secret and hidden 
 essence of both. You will observe the difficulty 
 of the idea. And not only is it difficult, but it 
 is one about which there has always been the 
 greatest possible disagreement. The word " sub- 
 stance " has been the most serious battle-ground 
 of metaphysicians from the beginning until now. 
 It may still be considered an open question as 
 to what its exact positive meaning should be. 
 Men are at one as to what they do not mean by 
 the word ; but when they attempt to define 
 precisely what they do mean by it, there is end- 
 less diversity and confusion. And yet, as if 
 Christianity were nothing more than a logom- 
 achy, it was round this word " substance " that 
 Q 
 
242 Christmas-Day. 
 
 the fourth century expended the greater part of 
 its enthusiasm. Can you conceive of a sadder 
 spectacle ? There was the whole world lying in 
 wickedness, waiting to be converted to Christ, 
 waiting to be taught the new commandment and 
 to be inspired with the zeal necessary to obey 
 it ; and His ministers, the bishops and pastors 
 of the Church, were jangling as to whether His 
 substance, whatever that might be, were homo- 
 onsios or homoiovsios ! 
 
 And there were many other controversies, 
 equally fierce and equally futile. As, e.g., 
 whether Christ had two natures or one. The 
 Monophysites said that the divine and human 
 nature were blended at His conception ; the 
 Nestorians, on the contrary, declared that they 
 always remained distinct. There were scores of 
 sects quarrelling over hundreds of doctrines, — 
 all more or less vague and mystical, not to 
 say incomprehensible. And the bishops cen- 
 tury after century kept on persistently excom- 
 municating one another, or being excommuni- 
 cated, according as their power waxed or waned. 
 For centuries excommunication seemed to be 
 the chief work of the Christian Church. Poor 
 Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, was expelled 
 ten times from his see, and sometimes nearly 
 
Christmas-Day. 243 
 
 lost his life iu the tumult that attended his 
 expulsion ; and the only accusation against him 
 was, that he did not " think of " the Trinity in 
 the same way as his opponents, who happened 
 for the moment to be in the ascendant. 
 
 And in the present day, though there is less 
 bloodshed, there is, I am afraid, almost as much 
 hatred. I remember that in the preface to the 
 second edition of his Belfast Address, Professor 
 TyndaU said he was not surprised at the bit- 
 ter things which had been uttered against him 
 by Christians, when he remembered how bit- 
 terly they were in the habit of recriminating 
 one another. " 'Tis true, 'tis pity ; pity 'tis, 'tis 
 true." They have been so busy shouting their 
 party shibboleths, and wrangling over their little 
 points of doctrine or of ritual, that they have 
 altogether forgotten their chief business in the 
 world. But this is not Christ's fault. Any one 
 who reads His New Testament intelligently, 
 must see that it was a very different result at 
 which Christ aimed. We noticed in a previous 
 sermon that His endeavour was to redeem men 
 from selfishness, and to create in them a univer- 
 sal sympathy for their fellows. Of this sym- 
 pathy, peace and goodwill are the invariable 
 characteristics : peace, or the absence of quarrel- 
 
244 Christmas-Day. 
 
 someness ; goodwill, or the actual performance of 
 deeds of kindness. These are essential charac- 
 teristics of genuine discipleship. Without them, 
 any profession of religion is but hypocrisy and 
 cant. St John does not mince matters, but 
 declares plainly — " If a man say, I love God, 
 and hateth his brother, he is a liar." 
 
 Let us to-day apply this test of discipleship 
 to ourselves. Of all the provisions for our 
 spiritual welfare in this human life, there is 
 perhaps nothing more helpful than the periodical 
 recurrence of days like the present. They break 
 the spell of routine. It would be the greatest 
 conceivable calamity, if all days were exactly 
 alike. We are creatures of custom ; and custom 
 means, generally speaking, thoughtlessness and 
 indifference. For you and for me these days 
 are no less needful than they are for the hard- 
 worked masses. Our work may be light and 
 even enjoyable, but we are apt to become too 
 absorbed in it. We are apt to look upon our 
 professional duties, or upon our personal culture, 
 as the exclusive business of our lives. You re- 
 member in Dickens's 'Christmas Carol,' when the 
 ghost of Scrooge's former partner is lamenting 
 his misspent life, Scrooge tries to console him 
 by saying, " But you were always a good man of 
 
Chrisimas-Day. 245 
 
 business, Jacob." " Business ! " cried the ghostj 
 wringing its hands ; " mankind was my business 3 
 the common welfare was my business ; charity, 
 mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my 
 business. The dealings of my trade were but 
 a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of 
 my business." This comprehensive nature of 
 our work in life we are all of us too apt to 
 forget in the pressure of our daily occupations. 
 The constant recurrence of these occupations 
 gives them an undue importance in our eyes. 
 And we have so little opportunity of considering 
 our ways. Apart from days like the present, 
 there is no such thing as leisure for us. That 
 is precluded by the multiplication of books, if by 
 nothing else. Do you not sometimes wish that 
 a good angel would stifle for a little that passion 
 for writing them, which is so characteristic of our 
 age ? Would it not be an enormous relief, if 
 for a single year no fresh books were issued 
 from the press ? As it is, books take up too 
 much of our time — time which would be better 
 spent in thought. 
 
 A day such as this then, which we cannot, 
 if we would, spend as a common day, is an in- 
 estimable blessing. We are compelled to turn 
 aside out of our ordinary life-path, and submit 
 
246 Christmas-Day. 
 
 ourselves to the peaceful influences of this quiet 
 resting-place. Our Christmas cards, our Christ- 
 mas carols, our Church services and decorations, 
 our social gatherings, all remind us of the peace 
 and goodwill foretold eighteen centuries ago. 
 We are drawn, in spite of ourselves, nearer to 
 our fellows. The very greeting of "A Merry- 
 Christmas to you ! " which custom has taught 
 us to give to one another, suggests to us that, 
 if we are not hypocrites, we are really taking 
 a very wide interest in the welfare of our fellow- 
 men. The good feeling of this festive season is 
 irresistibly contagious. We have probably all 
 of us done something, at the sacrifice of time 
 and money, to make this a merry Christmas for 
 some of the children of our common Father. 
 The air is resonant at this moment with the 
 echoes of the angel's song. It is a marvellous 
 triumph for Christianity, that on one day of the 
 year at any rate kindness and amiability reign 
 supreme, and all antagonistic emotions have to 
 hide themselves for very shame. 
 
 But it was Christ's aim that every day should 
 be in this respect a Christmas-day. Is that the 
 case with us ? There was a curious institution 
 in the middle ages, half beautiful, half grotesque. 
 When private feuds had become very numerous 
 
Christmas-Day. 247 
 
 and very fierce, an attempt was made to oppose 
 them, by what was called the ecclesiastical truce 
 or peace of God. It is not known exactly how 
 this arose ; but it was proclaimed in several 
 cities, and was religiously observed. According 
 to this truce, feuds were legally stopped for four 
 days in the week. The bell tolled on Wednes- 
 day, to intimate that, on pain of judicial pun- 
 ishment, all hostilities were to cease till the 
 following Monday. And until the Monday ac- 
 cordingly, they were suspended ; but them, they 
 were always faithfully resumed. On the same 
 principle, we are too apt to return again after 
 a day like the present to our old routine, which 
 with the most of us is more or less a routine 
 of selfishness. Shall it be so this year ? Is it 
 really so hard to be a Christian, that we can 
 only accomplish it on one day out of 365 ? 
 After manifesting peace and goodwUl on the 
 25th of December, must we relapse again into 
 practical paganism on the 26th? We cannot 
 be" always making presents, but we may be 
 always doing good. We may show others by 
 our manner that we are interested in their wel- 
 fare. I have known men with whom it was a 
 privilege to shake hands; to talk to them for 
 five minutes was as refreshing as a week's holi- 
 
248 Christmas-Day. 
 
 day. We may not be able to do any great 
 thing for Christ, but the simplest act of kind- 
 ness is a service with which He will be well 
 pleased. Shall we not, then, set ourselves dili- 
 gently to cultivate the Christian temperament, 
 and to manifest the Christian spirit ? Peace 
 and goodwill are their own exceeding great re- 
 ward. There is a happiness within the reach 
 of every man, far sweeter than any merely 
 selfish gratification — the happiness of making 
 others glad. There is a beauty that might 
 belong to the plainest of us — the beauty of a 
 benevolent expression. Wordsworth, you know, 
 speaks of 
 
 " Benignant looks, 
 That, for a face not beautiful, do more 
 Than beauty for the fairest face can do." 
 
 There is a nobility, the glory of which cannot be 
 outvied by the descendant of a hundred earls — 
 the nobiKty of thoughtful consideration for others. 
 When peace and goodwill are universal, human 
 society will be, as Christ wished to make it; a 
 heaven upon earth. He never expected this 
 result to be a speedy one. " I came not to send 
 peace, but a sword." This, he foresaw, would be 
 the first effect. But so gentle a nature could 
 not calmly have uttered such a terrible pro- 
 
Christmas- Day. 249 
 
 phecy, unless he had looked forward to some- 
 thing very different in the future. And He did. 
 He foresaw that there would come a time when 
 all men would he drawn to Him, and love one 
 another for His sake, even as He had loved them. 
 And so they wHl in the sweet by-and-hy. 
 
 " It came upon the midnight clear, — 
 
 That glorious song of old, 
 From angels bending near the earth 
 
 To touch their harps of gold : 
 ' Peace to the earth, goodwill to men, 
 
 From heaven's all-gracious King.' 
 The world in solemn stillness lay 
 
 To hear the angels sing. 
 
 Still through the cloven skies they come. 
 
 With peaceful wings unfurled ; 
 And still their heavenly music floats 
 
 O'er all the weary world. 
 Above its sad and lowly plains 
 
 They bend on heavenly wing 
 And ever o'er its Babel sounds 
 
 The blessed angels sing. 
 
 Yet with the woes of sin and strife 
 
 The world has suffered long ; 
 Beneath the angel-strain have rolled 
 
 Two thousand years of wrong. 
 And men at war with men, hear not 
 
 The love-song which they bring. 
 Oh hush the noise, ye men of strife. 
 
 And hear the angels sing ! 
 
 And ye beneath life's crushing load, 
 Whose forms are bending low, 
 
250 Christinas- Day. 
 
 Who toil along the climbing way 
 With painful steps and slow, 
 
 Look now ! for glad and golden hours 
 Gome swiftly on the wing. 
 
 Oh rest beside the weary road, 
 And hear the angels sing ! 
 
 For lo ! the days are hastening on 
 
 By prophet bards foretold, 
 When with the ever-circling years 
 
 Comes back the age of gold, 
 When peace shall over all the earth 
 
 Its blessed banner fling, 
 And the whole world send back the song 
 
 Which now the angels sing." 
 
251 
 
 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." 
 — Psalm xxxvii. 7. 
 
 T)EST! Wait patiently! Who ever did? 
 ^^ Who ever can ? Eestlessness and impa- 
 tience seem to be inseparably connected with 
 humanity. They are manifested by all classes 
 at every stage of their existence, from the child 
 who grows weary of its newest toy, to the philos- 
 opher who is dissatisfied with the result of his 
 patient, lifelong thought. Eest ! Some men 
 know not what it means ; they have never in 
 their lives experienced it. And for others, it 
 has no sooner come than gone, vanished like 
 some transient dream of bliss. 
 
 You have often, I daresay, felt strangely sad- 
 dened by the restfulness of nature. How beau- 
 tiful she appears on a summer's evening, when 
 the setting sun bestows on the landscape a part- 
 
252 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 ing gift of glory, when the voice of the zephyr 
 murmurs the tired earth's lullaby, and when all 
 things seem sinking into rest ! Beautiful ? Yes, 
 but suggestive of a mournful and startling con- 
 trast : — 
 
 " For, in the deepest hour of nature's peace, 
 The human heart's disquiet will not cease. " 
 
 On the serenest evening which the world has 
 ever seen, there was one exception to the com- 
 mon restfulness. " Man's heart taketh not rest 
 even in the night." And therefore nature's 
 serenity, though beautiful, is very, very sad- 
 dening. "We are shocked at her want of sym- 
 pathy. How can she be so placid when we 
 are so perturbed ? 
 
 Yet rest cannot be quite impossible for man, 
 for it has been occasionally achieved. The 
 Psalmist, for example, had practised what we 
 find him preaching in our text. " The Lord is 
 my shepherd," he says, " I shall not want. He 
 maketh me to lie down in green pastures : He 
 leadeth me beside the still waters. . . . Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil ; for Thou art with 
 me." " My soul waiteth upon God. My expec- 
 tation is from Him. He is my rock and my 
 defence. I shall not be moved." Faber, too, had 
 
The Rest of Faith. 253 
 
 attained to a restfulness not less perfect than the 
 Psalmist's. You remember his words : — 
 
 " I love to trace each print where Thou 
 Hast set Thine unseen feet. 
 I cannot fear Thee, Blessed Will, 
 Thine empire is so sweet. 
 
 I love to lose my will in Thine, 
 
 And by that loss be free. 
 I find my strength in helplessness, 
 
 And meekly wait on Thee. 
 
 Ill that God blesses is our good, 
 
 And unblest good is ill. 
 And all is right that seems most wrong 
 
 If it be Thy sweet will. " 
 
 You will observe that the rest to which the 
 Psalmist and Faber and a few such men have 
 attained, is an intelligent and intelligible rest. 
 There can be no rest for us in circumstances ; 
 they are ever changing. There can be no rest 
 in self; for self is too much at the mercy of 
 circumstances. There can be no complete rest 
 for us in other men ; for they may play us false, 
 or be taken away by death : — 
 
 " There is no union here of hearts 
 That finds not here an end." 
 
 The only perfect rest conceivable for man is a 
 rest in the Lord — a confidence in the love and 
 
254 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 wisdom of Him who is the same yesterday, 
 to-day, and for ever. 
 
 You will observe, further, that all forms of 
 restlessness and impatience resolve themselves 
 into a want of faith. They amount to practical 
 atheism. We all, I suppose, profess to believe, 
 and think that we believe, in God. And yet we 
 are constantly acting and feeling as if we did 
 not. We fancy that we could have arranged 
 the circumstances of our life much better than 
 they have been arranged for us by Providence. 
 When we look forward to the future, we are 
 afraid things will not turn out well unless we 
 have a hand in ordering them. We are restless 
 under bad fortune, as if we were quite sure it 
 was an unmitigated evil. We are impatient for 
 good fortune, as if we were at the mercy of a 
 niggardly tyrant, who would keep it from us if 
 he could. 
 
 Let us take an illustration or two. We young 
 men perhaps afford the most striking example. 
 We probably, more than any other class, are 
 characterised by a feverish restlessness and a 
 tremendous impatience. We want to build our 
 Eome in a day. We should like to reap the 
 fruit of our labours almost before we have sown 
 the seed. We desire to put the top-stone on to 
 
The Rest of Faith. 255 
 
 our building without having laid a good founda- 
 tion. When we first sketched out for ourselves 
 our life's plan, and saw the goal in the far-dis- 
 tant future, we determined that its attainment 
 was worth any amount of effort and of per- 
 severance. But we soon grew weary. "We 
 thought we were not having so good a time of it 
 as we deserved. And we turned aside from the 
 path we had marked out, in pursuit of ignoble 
 pleasure or still more ignoble sloth. My brother ! 
 it is our restlessness and impatience, our eager 
 craving after ease and pleasure, our indisposition 
 to endure hardness and conflict, our longing to 
 enjoy the present moment however meanly, 
 rather than work out patiently some future good 
 however glorious — it is these things that mar us, 
 that keep us from ever becoming what we might 
 have been. Bums's lament is so true of us : 
 
 " man, while in thy early years, 
 How prodigal of time, 
 Misspending all thy precious hours, 
 Thy glorious youthful prime. " 
 
 There is no cure for this restlessness but faith. 
 Faith in the future, and in the God of the future, 
 will alone help us worthily to discharge our 
 present duty. Of necessity a good deal of 
 drudgery precedes any kind of success. An 
 
256 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 aspirant for musical fame once asked a celebrated 
 violinist, how long it had taken him to become 
 a proficient in his art. The reply was, " Sixteen 
 hours a-day for twenty-five years." And it is 
 the same in all vocations and in every sphere. 
 No success worth having was ever achieved 
 without tremendous toil. Now there is nothing 
 that would enable us to endure this necessary 
 "hardness" like a steadfast faith in God — an 
 unwavering confidence that He wiU give us what 
 is best. Such a faith would teach us to hold 
 pleasure at its true worth. "We should make 
 it our fira aim to do our life's work bravely, 
 accepting pleasure gratefully when it came in 
 the path of duty, but refusing to turn aside in 
 its pursuit. And so every day, as it passed over 
 us, would find us nearer to our goal. We should 
 be living an ideal life, in which progress was 
 united to repose. 
 
 There is another very common form of rest- 
 lessness, arising not from the mere absence of 
 enjoyment, but from the actual presence of pain. 
 Here is a man who has failed to obtain some- 
 thing on which he had set his heart — or having 
 obtained it, it does not please him as he thought 
 it would ; or, it may be, some source of happi- 
 ness has been taken from him which he had long 
 
The Rest of Faith. 257 
 
 been privileged to possess. How he chafes and 
 frets ! How he resents this interference with 
 his plans ! How sure he feels that Providence 
 has made a mistake ! To any one in such a 
 predicament I should like to offer two suggest- 
 ions. The first is this : Your present adver- 
 sity, my friend, may be the best means — perhaps 
 the only means — to a great prosperity which is 
 in store for you at no distant date. Many a 
 man has said, like Jacob, " All these things are 
 against me," when they were in reality paving 
 the way to a happiness greater than any for 
 which he had ever hoped. " Quarrel not with 
 God's unfinished providence." Your life is not 
 yet over. Wait. 
 
 ' ' Out of evil Cometh good, 
 Joy is born of sorrow; 
 Sighs that rend the heart to-day 
 Die in bliss to-morrow. " 
 
 So it often has been. So it may be with you. 
 
 But secondly, I would remark, it is a great 
 mistake to imagine, as all those who are chafing 
 under difficulty or disappointment seem to im- 
 agine, that happiness is the chief end of life and 
 that we have a right to as much of it as we like 
 to demand. The end of life is not happiness 
 but duty. G-od has a purpose to fulfil in our 
 K 
 
258 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 existence — at least so we profess to believe ; and 
 surely it must be evident that with this pur- 
 pose an indefinite amount of happiness might be 
 quite incompatible. We forget that, both as 
 individuals and as members of a race, we require 
 discipline, training, development. It may be 
 absolutely necessary that we suffer — necessary 
 for the strengthening and perfecting of our own 
 character, or necessary for the teaching and en- 
 lightenment of the race. " Sorrow," says J. P. 
 Eichter, " seems sent for our instruction, just as 
 we darken the cages of birds when we would 
 teach them to sing." I have pointed out to you 
 before,^ that some of the noblest characteristics 
 of humanity could never have been conceivably 
 developed without the instrumentality of grief. 
 My sorrowing friend, benefits may accrue to you 
 from your suffering which could not have been 
 otherwise conferred. It will give you strength 
 and stability of character; it will make you 
 sympathetic, pitiful, and kind ; it will bring you 
 nearer to Him who is " a very present help in 
 trouble." 
 
 But besides the benefit that you will gain 
 from suffering, think of those which it may be 
 thereby in your power to confer. There are not 
 iSee 'Origin of Evil.' 
 
The Rest of Faith. 259 
 
 only lessons wMch sorrow enables men to learn ; 
 there are also lessons wliicli it enables them to 
 teach. You are suffering perhaps, in the provi- 
 dence of God, not so much for your own sake as 
 for the sake of others. And can you conceive 
 of any higher glory than ' thus to be a sacrifice 
 for the world ? If poor Job can now see the 
 priceless value of his woe, if he can see how 
 thousands and tens of thousands have been 
 helped by the story of his conflict, you may be 
 very sure that he is thankful for having been . 
 permitted to achieve so much. " He remembers 
 no more the anguish." He will now be ready 
 to exclaim, " My light affliction, which was but 
 for a moment, has worked out for me a far more 
 exceeding, and an eternal, weight of glory." And 
 Job has many companions in his educative work. 
 Every one who bears suffering as it should be 
 borne, belongs, in virtue thereof, to the noble 
 army of martyrs, by whose pain the world is 
 made better. Many a weak woman, unknown 
 beyond her family circle, has taught lessons of 
 patience and resignation and faith and. unself- 
 ishness, with a clearness and a force which could 
 not be surpassed. Not a few of us, probably, 
 wiU look back throughout eternity to some such 
 sufferer as to our highest spiritual teacher. 
 
26o The Rest of Faith. 
 
 Thoughts like these should help us to bear 
 afiSiction bravely, to rest in the Lord and wait 
 patiently, until He reveals to us the meaning 
 and the blessedness of our grief. We may have 
 to wait, perhaps tiU the great hereafter, but 
 then assuredly we shall see that we have not 
 suffered in vain. 
 
 " With aching hands and bleeding feet 
 We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; 
 We bear the burden and the heat 
 
 Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. 
 Not till the hours of light return. 
 All we have built shall we discern. " 
 
 Our restlessness and impatience, once more, 
 involve a practical disbelief in immortality. 
 Though we constantly say we " believe in the 
 resurrection of the dead and the life of the world 
 to come," we chafe and fret when our wishes are 
 thwarted, as if there were no life but the present, 
 as if the grave were the end of all things for us. 
 Here is a man somewhat advanced in years, who 
 begins to feel that life is not going to be to him 
 what he had once believed it would. Age is 
 coming upon him, and not one of the expec- 
 tations of his youth has been fulfilled. He 
 was not, perhaps, highly gifted by nature, or 
 he had but few early advantages, or he was 
 
The Rest of Faith. 261 
 
 more scrupulously conscientious than his neigh- 
 bours ; but be the cause what it may, he has 
 to confess to himself that he has not been 
 successful. It is too late now ; he is too old to 
 hope for better things. As to waiting patiently, 
 there seems nothing to wait for but the falling 
 of the curtain upon a very unsatisfactory play. 
 He feels disgusted, chagrined, annoyed, enraged. 
 If that be your case, sir, I ask, do you, or do 
 you not, believe in another life ? If you do 
 not, I have no consolation to offer you. If 
 there is no future, your fate is a very hard 
 one, and unless you have done anything to 
 deserve it, a very cruel and unjust one. But if 
 there is a future life and you believe in it, why 
 should you despond ? Your threescore years and 
 ten, compared to the eternity that is before you, 
 are really less than a second in a lifetime. There 
 are some exquisite lines of Mr Greg's which are 
 full of consolation for you : — 
 
 " Yes, I have failed ; that golden prize 
 Of life — success — ambition's boast. 
 Which dazzled once my boyish eyes, 
 I strove for, prayed for, and have lost. 
 
 Yet I may not have lost the prize — 
 
 It only may not yet be won ; 
 I see with dim and tearful eyes — 
 
 The goal may be still farther on. 
 
262 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 That star again, like morning sun, 
 May rise upon some happier shore. 
 
 And where a nobler race is run, 
 My Master bid me try onee more." 
 
 The lesson of our text is a lesson we aU need 
 to learn. Circumstances are continually arising, 
 in your life and mine, which tend to make us 
 restless and impatient. Sometimes our plans are 
 frustrated, our hopes disappointed, our labours 
 nullified ; sometimes we have to bear pain and 
 disease, bodily and mental prostration ; some- 
 times those whom we have benefited are un- 
 grateful, and render us evil for good — or those 
 whom we trusted and loved deceive and wound 
 us ; sometimes our staunchest, truest friends are 
 taken from us by death. To one and all of us 
 then the advice of the Psalmist is applicable, or 
 wiU sooner or later become applicable. When 
 trouble comes upon us, we become restless and 
 impatient, as if we had never heard of God. 
 We are always ready to preach patience ; why 
 cannot we practise what we preach ? We can 
 exercise faith for other men ; shall we never 
 exercise it for ourselves ? Is it likely that 
 in a well-ordered universe — and we profess 
 to believe that the universe is well ordered — 
 
The Rest of Faith. 263 
 
 is it likely th.p,t cnir welfare alone has been 
 overlooked ? If it were our destiny to fight 
 impotehtly against surrounding forces which 
 were bound in the end to destroy us, then there 
 would be an excuse for our anxiety and fore- 
 boding. But if there be a God, a loving God, a 
 God who is making all things to work together 
 for good, then our fretful impatience is puerile 
 and contemptible. Have we not the glorious 
 hope of everlasting life ? 
 
 Yes. But this very hope often makes us rest- 
 less and impatient. We should like — instead 
 of a hope — to have possessed a demonstration. 
 We should like to know exactly the kind of 
 existence that awaits us in the future. We 
 should like, in this life, to be allowed some 
 communion with those whom we have loved 
 and lost. And yet, in the present state of our 
 mental development, it may be quite impossible 
 for us to understand any fuller or clearer rev- 
 elation than that which has been given to us. 
 Even if it were possible, it might be supremely 
 inexpedient. There is probably no other dis- 
 cipline so useful for us as that of the compara- 
 tive ignorance in which we are compelled to 
 remain. At any rate, I think, we might bring 
 
264 The Rest of Faith. 
 
 ourselves to the "mire and certain hope" that 
 the Author of a world so beautiful, that He to 
 whom we owe all the joys and happiness of life, 
 is caring also for our future, and doing in regard 
 to it that which alone is best. Can we not wait 
 — wait like men — "for the far-off interest of 
 tears ? " 
 
265 
 
 Against Censoriousness, 
 
 'Judge not." — Matthew vii. I. 
 
 rpHE wisest maxims are always susceptible of a 
 ^ ridiculous interpretation. Tliis is the kind 
 of interpretation which thinkers of a certain 
 school are wont to put upon the sayings of 
 Christ. Having made up their minds that the 
 Christian religion is impracticable and altogether 
 unsuited to the exigencies of human life, they 
 proceed to explain Christ's injunctions in a way 
 which will support this gratuitous hypothesis. 
 They tell us that social order — nay, the very 
 existence of society — would be at an end if we 
 were to act upon the precepts of the Nazarene. 
 They maintain that the meekness of spirit which 
 Christ inculcated, would involve the abrogation 
 of criminal prosecutions and civil punishments ; 
 and such an abrogation, they assert, would be 
 absolutely fatal. Of course it would. Christ 
 
266 Against Censoriousness. 
 
 Himself said, however, that His mission was not 
 to destroy the law, but to fulfil ; and He certainly 
 did not narrow, but on the contrary enlarged, its 
 borders. But this of course is, consciously or 
 unconsciously, ignored. Just notice, if you please, 
 the unphilosophical injustice of which these 
 thinkers are guilty. In studying Aristotle or 
 Herbert Spencer, they try to discover the hest 
 meaning which the author's wcSrds are capable of 
 bearing ; but in regard to Christ's teaching, they 
 always select the worst. It is really too bad. 
 No amount of absurdity or inconsistency is too 
 great to be attributed to Jesus. In fact, the 
 more ridiculous they have made His teaching 
 appear, the more confident do they seem that they 
 have expressed His real meaning. " Judge not ! " 
 they exclaim, for example. " Why, it is impossible 
 to fulfil that command ; and if it were possible, it 
 would be detrimental ! " Very true in one sense. 
 Everybody knows that if we are certain a man 
 has committed a crime, we cannot help judging 
 him to be guilty. And everybody knows that if 
 we did not award punishment, where punishment 
 was due, society would be destroyed. Christian 
 charity itself demands that we be very strict and 
 inexorable in these kinds of judgments. What 
 Christ is here warning us against is not social or 
 
Against Censoriousness. 267 
 
 legal judgment, but moral. By a moral judgment 
 I mean the attempt to sum up the worth or 
 worthlessness of a human character, considered 
 not in regard to such and such actions, but as a 
 whole. We may see very clearly that associa- 
 tion with certain persons would be injurious to 
 ourselves or to our families, and it is our bounden 
 duty to form such judgments, and to act upon 
 them. But this does not warrant our attempting 
 to estimate a man's moral standing in the sight 
 of God. The reason why Christ forbids our 
 passing such judgments is that they would be 
 invariably wrong. Let me try and make this 
 plain. 
 
 In the first place, we have not sufficient data. 
 " We see a few of the actions which a man per- 
 forms, we hear a few of the words he utters ; and 
 that is all we know of him. Yet some of us 
 imagine that, on the strength of this knowledge, 
 we can form a complete and infallible judgment 
 in regard to his moral worth." We could not 
 make a greater or more foolish mistake. The 
 question whether a man is good or bad, very 
 good or very bad, how good or how bad, is a 
 highly complex question, depending on an almost 
 infinite variety of circumstances. In order to 
 arrive at a correct decision, we must know the 
 
268 Against Censoriousness. 
 
 history of the man's ancestors for hundreds of 
 years past, and the different tendencies towards 
 right and towards wrong which they have trans- 
 mitted to him. "We must know the exact quan- 
 tity and quality of his brain, together with the 
 value of his whole -physique,, considered as an 
 instrument of the will. We must discover with 
 how much ability he was endowed by nature, 
 and how far his faculties have been improved by 
 voluntary effort or injured by voluntary neglect. 
 We must be familiar with the advantages and 
 disadvantages, the trials, temptations and privi- 
 leges of his trade or profession. We must ascer- 
 tain the climate and other characteristics of the 
 place in which he lived, and investigate their 
 adaptation or want of adaptation to his particular 
 temperament and constitution. We must glean 
 information regarding the schoolmasters and 
 clergymen from whom he received, or failed to 
 receive, instruction. We must know what books 
 he had it in his power to read, what he actually 
 did read, and what were beyond his reach. And 
 so I might go on multiplying ad infinitum, data 
 which are essential to a correct solution of the 
 problem — data which must be fully known and 
 accurately estimated, before a moral verdict can 
 be legitimately pronounced. " Many of us are 
 
Against Censoriousness. 269 
 
 born," says the author of ' John Inglesant,' " with 
 seeds within us which make moral victory hope- 
 less from the first, the seeds of disease, of igno- 
 rance, of stupidity." A few of us, on the other 
 hand, the descendants of a long line of cultured 
 ancestors, have had refinement and goodness in 
 our blood to start with, so that we involuntarily 
 shrink from vice, almost as we shrink from pain. 
 Circumstances over which a man has had abso- 
 lutely no control, may have conspired to render 
 his conflict between duty and inclination either 
 easy or terrific, may have made it almost impos- 
 sible for him to do right, or almost impos- 
 sible for him to do wrong. And the circum- 
 stances which have had this effect are infinitely 
 subtle, complex, and involved. They can be 
 fully understood only by omniscience. So that 
 it is impossible to say of any human being how 
 far he has made himself what he is, or how far 
 ■ his character may have been determined by ex- 
 traneous forces ; in other words, how far he is, 
 or is not, responsible for himself. 
 
 Again, we can never see what goes on in 
 another's heart. "We may detect his sins ; but 
 whether he has struggled against them, and to 
 what extent, we can never tell. The moral con- 
 flicts in which each of us is engaged are known 
 
270 Against Censoriousness. 
 
 only to ourselves and God. " We may be able 
 to say," observes Mr Greg, " this man has lied, 
 has pilfered, has forged ! and that man has appa- 
 rently gone through life with clean hands. But 
 can we say that the first has not struggled long, 
 though unsuccessfully, against temptations under 
 which the second would have succumbed without 
 an effort ? We know that one is generous and 
 open-handed, and another close, niggardly and 
 mean ; but the generosity of the one, as well as 
 the niggardliness of the other, may be a mere 
 yielding to native temperament. In the eye of 
 heaven, a long life of beneficence in the one may 
 have cost less exertion, and may indicate less 
 virtue, than a few rare, hidden acts of kindness, 
 wrung by duty out of the reluctant and unsym- 
 pathetic nature of the other." Burns's words are 
 as true as they are beautiful : — 
 
 ' ' Who made the heart, 'tis He alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us : 
 He knows each chord, its various tone ; 
 
 Each spring, its various bias. 
 Then at the balance let's be mute : 
 
 We never can adjust it : 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 
 But know not what's resisted. " 
 
 And it is but a very partial computation we 
 can give even of what is done. We are ignorant 
 
Against Censoriousness. 27,1 
 
 of the larger portion of men's deeds. " We do not 
 know half the acts of wickedness or of virtue of 
 our most immediate friends. How little, com- 
 paratively speaking, does the world know of our- 
 selves ! Of how many of our best, and of our 
 worst, actions and qualities are our most iatimate 
 associates utterly unconscious ! How many vir- 
 tues does the world give us credit for that we 
 do not possess ! How small a portion of our 
 evil deeds ever come to light ! Even of our few 
 redeeming goodnesses, how large a portion is 
 known only to God ! " We are, then, in all cases 
 ignorant of the majority of the facts, upon which 
 an accurate moral judgment must depend. 
 
 But further, even if we were acquainted with 
 the facts, we should be incapable of estimating 
 correctly their moral significance. This is owing, 
 partly, to the misleading influence of self-esteem. 
 There is in each of us an ineradicable bias in 
 favour of ourselves, and of everything belonging 
 to ourselves. According to an old Indian legend, 
 there once appeared among a nation of hunch- 
 backs a young and beautiful god. The people 
 gathered round him ; and when they saw that his 
 back was destitute of a hump, they began to 
 hoot and jeer and taunt him. One of them, 
 however, more philosophical than the rest, said : 
 
272 Against Censoriousness. 
 
 " My friends, what are we doing ? Let us no6 
 insult this miserable creature. If heaven has 
 made us beautiful, if it has adorned our backs 
 with a mount of flesh, let us with pious grati- 
 tude repair to the temple and render our ac- 
 knowledgments to the immortal gods." This 
 quaint legend illustrates very forcibly some of 
 the curious delusions resulting from self-esteem. 
 We are apt to plume ourselves even on our 
 defects. We are apt to condemn those who 
 differ from us, merely because they differ. And 
 as for those bad points in our own character 
 which even we must acknowledge, we think 
 them much less serious than they really are ; we 
 put them down to evil tendencies inherited from 
 our forefathers, or to the force of unpropitious 
 circumstances, while we make no such amiable 
 allowances for the faults of other people. In a 
 word, there is a large number of our shortcomings 
 which we do not recognise at all, and with the 
 rest we deal far too leniently. So that it will 
 evidently go very hard with men, when we sub- 
 ject them to our moral criticism. We naturally 
 compare them with ourselves ; but the self which 
 we use as a standard is not our real self : it is far 
 too flattering to be correct. Our self-esteem for 
 ever keeps us from thoroughly knowing ourselves. 
 
Against Censoriousness. 273 
 
 But we axe misled even more seriously by the 
 difficulty of understanding others. It is simply 
 impossible for us duly to appreciate the thoughts 
 and feelings of those who are very differently 
 constituted from ourselves. Try as we may, we 
 shall never see things as they appear from an 
 opposite point of view. We shall never be com- 
 pletely successful in ascertaining the condition of 
 another's mind and heart. If men would only 
 remember this, they would be saved from a good 
 deal of religious intolerance. They fancy they 
 are passing judgment on the facts of a case, 
 when in reality they are but criticising their own 
 distorted view of the facts. Beliefs and prac- 
 tices mean more to those who adopt them, than 
 they can ever mean to those who are opposed to 
 them. But this is so difficult to grasp. Broad 
 Churchmen look upon Low Churchmen as fanat- 
 ics, if not fools ; and the latter return the com- 
 pliment by regarding Broad Churchmen as infidels, 
 if not atheists. And even when they do not go 
 so far as this, each is apt to regard the other as 
 a sort of mental or spiritual monstrosity, which 
 it is surprising Providence should have permitted 
 to exist. The impossibility of understanding or 
 sympathising with those who greatly differ from 
 ourselves, is strikingly illustrated in a poem called 
 s 
 
2 74 Against Censoriousness. 
 
 "Hilda," by Dr Walter Smith, from which I 
 extract the following verses : — 
 
 "Twain are they sundered each from each, 
 
 Though oft together they are brought ; 
 Discoursing in a common speech, 
 
 Yet having scarce a common thought. 
 The same sun warmed them all their days ; 
 
 They breathe one air of life serene ; 
 Yet moving in their several ways, 
 
 They walk with a whole world between. 
 
 I think they never meet without 
 
 Some sharp encounter of their wits ; 
 And neither hints a faith or doubt 
 
 The other does not take to bits. 
 For what the one regards with awe. 
 
 The other holds a creed outworn ; 
 And what this boasts as perfect law. 
 
 That turns to laughter with his scorn. 
 
 Thus on their several ways they go. 
 
 And neither other comprehends ; 
 Yet it was God who made them so. 
 
 And they do serve His several ends. 
 That seeks for light to walk in it. 
 
 And this for God to live in Him ; 
 One questions with a searching wit. 
 
 The other trusts where all is dim." 
 
 Now if these two persons judge one another, 
 their verdicts will most certainly be incorrect. 
 The first will say that the second is impiously 
 sceptical. The second will assert that the first 
 is blasphemously credulous. And yet perhaps, 
 
Against Censoriousness. 275 
 
 in the sight of God, each may be doing the best 
 he can to seek and to hold the truth. 
 
 We see then, do we not ? that Christ's injunc- 
 tion is pre-eminently reasonable. The facts upon 
 which a moral judgment should be based, are for 
 the most part unknown to us, or known only in 
 a distorted and untruthful form. And even if 
 we were perfectly acquainted with the facts, we 
 should be prevented, by the very constitution 
 of our nature, from estimating them with the 
 slightest approach to accuracy. In these days 
 of spectroscopic analysis, you can obtain more 
 certain knowledge about the composition of a 
 distant star, than you can ever hope to obtain 
 in regard to the moral worth of an intimate 
 friend. What would you say of any one who 
 asserted that he knew the exact value of all 
 the land upon the earth's surface, when he 
 did not know the extent of that surface, and was 
 thoroughly acquainted only with a few square 
 miles of it ? The attempt to pass a moral judg- 
 ment upon a fellow-creature is not a whit less 
 impertinent, not a whit less absurd. A man's 
 moral worth can be correctly and completely 
 estimated by God alone. Therefore, judge not. 
 
276 
 
 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the 
 moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained ; what is man, 
 that Thou art mindful of him ? and the son of man, that Thon 
 visitest him ? For " (or rather Ind) ' ' Thou hast made him a 
 little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory 
 and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the 
 works of Thy hands ; Thou hast put all things under his feet." 
 Psalm viii. 3-6. 
 
 /^VEE the professor's chair in the ineta- 
 ^ physics class-room in the University of 
 Edinburgh, where it was once my happiness to 
 study, is inscribed the maxim, first uttered by 
 Phavorinus: — 
 
 " On earth there is nothing great hut man ; 
 In man there is nothing great but mind." 
 
 That maxim is the lesson of our text. True 
 greatness consists, not in weight and extension, 
 but in intellectual power and moral worth. 
 When the Psalmist looked up to the heavens, he 
 was at first overwhelmed with a sense of his 
 
The Greatness of Man. 277 
 
 own littleness. The sun, moon and stars ap- 
 peared to him so majestic, that he said, " Lordj 
 what is man, that Thou art mindful of him ? and 
 the son of man, that Thou visitest him 1 " Man 
 seemed, in comparison, insignificant and unworthy 
 of the divine regard. But, on second thoughts, 
 David perceived that this was an entire mis- 
 conception of the matter, and that man could 
 not be inferior to the heavens ; for God had, in 
 point of fact, made him only a little lower than 
 the angels — than the Elohim, is the word in the 
 Hebrew. This term, in the Elohistic portion of 
 the Pentateuch, is applied to the Almighty in- 
 stead of the term Jehovah. God had made man, 
 we may therefore read, a little lower than Him- 
 self ; had crowned him with glory and honour ; 
 had given him dominion over the works of His 
 hands : and had put all things under his feet. 
 So far from being insignificant in comparison 
 with the heavens, man is of infinitely more value 
 than they. 
 
 This is a lesson which constantly needs to be 
 repeated. Many fall into the Psalmist's mistake, 
 but comparatively few escape from it as satis- 
 factorily as he did. You remember Bildad argues ^ 
 as if human beings were altogether contemptible 
 
 ' Job XXV. 5, 6. 
 
278 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 when compared with the heavenly host. Even 
 the stars, he says, are not pure in God's sight ; 
 how then ban that worm man be pure ? You 
 will often hear Bildad's remark quoted, by 
 well-meaning persons, as if it were a beautiful 
 expression of humble piety. And this depreci- 
 ation of mind in favour of matter is, likewise, 
 a common failing with scientific investigators. 
 Never, it seems to me, was there so much need 
 to enforce the lesson of our text as there is 
 to-day. 
 
 The progress of science has had a tendency to 
 make us underrate our manhood. For our rela- 
 tions to time and space seem so paltry, when we 
 compare them with those of the material world. 
 If the Psalmist was overawed by the heavens, 
 much more must they overawe thoughtful and 
 imaginative minds in our own day ! There are 
 but 5932 stars visible to the naked eye, and 
 David did not even suspect the existence of any 
 others. His view of their origin was, that they 
 were suddenly called into existence on a certain 
 Thursday, two thousand years before the time 
 of Noah. They were intended, he thought — the 
 whole 5932 of them — to adorn his firmament or 
 to light up his roads. Could he have heard the 
 Lady in " Comus," he would have imagined that 
 
The Greatness of Man. 2 79 
 
 slie was describing a scientific fact, when she 
 speaks of the stars 
 
 " That nature hung In heaven, and filled their lamps 
 With everlasting oil, to give due light 
 To the misled and lonely traveller." 
 
 How different are our heavens from his ! The 
 telescope has brought 75,000,000 of worlds 
 within the range of human vision. We know 
 that many of these are hundreds of times greater 
 than our own sun ; and there is every reason to 
 believe that most of them (like him) have 
 planets revolving around them. We know that 
 the volume of the sun is 1^ million times as 
 large as that of the earth. We know it is so 
 far distant, that if we could travel towards it 
 day and night at the rate of 60 miles an hour, 
 it could not be reached in less than 180 years. 
 We know that Neptune is 30 times as far away 
 from the sun as we are, and that therefore it 
 would take any one at the same rate 5400 
 years to traverse the intervening space. Some of 
 the Tiearest fixed stars are biUions of miles away 
 from us; so that if we travelled as before 60 
 miles an hour, it would require 90,000,000 of 
 years to perform the journey. And we know 
 that these so-called fixed stars are not reaUy at 
 rest, but that they are moving in orbits hundreds 
 
28o The Greatness of Man. 
 
 of millions of miles in diameter, which orbits, 
 owing to the distance, appear to us like mere 
 mathematical points. 
 
 The light from Sirius, though travelling, as all 
 light travels, at the rate of 192 miles per second, 
 takes 16 years to reach us. There is light 
 about us to-day, which started on its course 
 from some far-off world before we were born. 
 And light is ever winging its way from yet 
 more distant spheres, which, if it ever reaches 
 us at all, will reveal the condition in which it 
 left them ages and ages ago. Facts such as 
 these, when we succeed in partially realising 
 them for a moment in our imagination, give 
 us an overwhelming sense of the vast tracts of 
 space over which the physical universe extends. 
 
 Again its duration in time is no less stupen- 
 dous than its extension in space. Myriads of 
 ages ago our earth was a mass of molten liquid. 
 Myriads of ages before that, it consisted entirely 
 of glowing gas.'' Myriads of ages hence, the fire 
 that still remains in the interior will have burnt 
 out ; and when that internal source of heat has 
 been exhausted, our globe will be no longer ca- 
 pable of maintaining animal or even vegetable 
 life. " Then," says Mr E. A. Proctor, " her desert 
 
 ^ See 'Agnosticism, and other Sermons,' pp. 105-112. 
 
The Greatness of Man. 281 
 
 continents and frost-bound oceans will in some 
 degree resemble the arid wastes which the as- 
 tronomer recognises in the moon. Long as has 
 been, and doubtless will be, the duration of life 
 upon the earth, (and it has certainly existed for 
 myriads and myriads of years), it seems less 
 than a second when compared with those two 
 awful time-intervals, — one past, when as yet life 
 was not, and one future, when all life shall have 
 passed away. Long after the earth has ceased 
 to be the abode of life, other planets will become 
 fitted for this purpose. Even these time -intervals 
 will pass, however, until every planet in turn 
 has been the source of busy life, and afterwards 
 become inert and dead. Then, after the lapse 
 perchance of a lifeless interval, compared with 
 which all the past eras of the solar system were 
 utterly insignificant, the time will arrive when 
 the sun will be a fit abode for living creatures, 
 and will continue so during ages infinite to our 
 conceptions. We may even look forward to still 
 more distant changes, seeing that the solar sys- 
 tem is itself moving round an orbit, though the 
 centre around which it travels is so distant that 
 at present it remains unknown. The end, seem- 
 ingly so remote, to which our earth is tending 
 — the end, infinitely more remote, towards which 
 
282 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 the solar system is tending — the end of our 
 galaxy — the end of systems of such galaxies, 
 as ours, — are but the beginnings of fresh eras 
 comparable with themselves. The wave, of life 
 which is now passing over our earth is but a 
 ripple on the sea of life within the solar system ; 
 and that sea of life is but a wavelet on the 
 great ocean of life that is coextensive with the 
 universe." 
 
 And if, as is believed by some, our earth is 
 being slowly forced nearer to the sun, into which 
 it will ultimately fall, — a similar fate being in 
 store for the whole solar system, for the system 
 of which that forms a part, and so on ad infini- 
 tum ; if this be so, then Shelley's magnificent 
 verse will be literally true ; 
 
 ' ' Worlds on worlds are rolling ever 
 From creation to decay, 
 Like the bubbles on a river, 
 Sparkling, bursting, borne away." 
 
 In the presence of such thoughts as these 
 one is tempted, like the Psalmist, to say in 
 despair, " What is man ? " We, who are con- 
 sidered tall if we are seventy-two inches high, 
 who cannot walk faster than three or four miles 
 an hour, who die almost as soon as we are born, 
 must feel very, very insignificant, if we look 
 
The Greatness of Man. 283 
 
 only at our relations with space or time, and 
 then compare ourselves in these respects with 
 galaxies of worlds. We shall be inclined to 
 adopt the poet's words, — 
 
 " See how beneath the moonbeam's smile 
 
 Yon little billow heaves its breast, 
 And foams and sparkles for a while. 
 
 And murmuring then subsides to rest. 
 Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, 
 
 Bises on time's eventful sea. 
 And having swelled a moment there, 
 
 Then melts into eternity. " 
 
 This kind of sentiment is just now in the air. 
 E.g., one of the characters in Buchanan's ' New 
 Abelard,' speaks as if we were too insignificant 
 and contemptible for immortality. " Shall we 
 survive," she asks, " while suns go out like sparks, 
 and the void is sown with the wrecks of worn- 
 out worlds ? " And I daresay most of you 
 remember the following passage in 'Natural 
 Eeligion ' : " The more," says the gifted author 
 of that remarkable book, " the more our thoughts 
 widen and deepen, as the universe grows upon 
 us and we become accustomed to boundless space 
 and time, the more petrifying is the contrast of 
 our own insignificance, the more contemptible 
 become the pettiness, shortness and fragility of 
 the individual life. A moral paralysis creeps 
 
284 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 upon us. For a while we comfort ourself with 
 the notion of self-sacrifice ; we say, What matter 
 if I pass, let me think of others ! But the other 
 has become contemptible no less than the self; 
 all human griefs alike seem little worth assuag- 
 ing, human happiness too paltry at the best to 
 be worth increasing. The whole moral world 
 is reduced to a point; the spiritual city, 'the 
 goal of all the saints,' dwindles to the 'least 
 of little stars ' ; good and evil, right and wrong, 
 become infinitesimal, ephemeral matters ; while 
 eternity and infinity remain attributes of that 
 only which is outside the realm of morality. 
 Life becomes more intolerable the more we know 
 and discover, so long as everything widens and 
 deepens except our own duration, and that re- 
 mains as pitiful as ever. The affections die 
 away in a world where everything great and 
 enduring is cold ; they die of their own conscious 
 feebleness and bootlessness." And I might give 
 you many more illustrations. One of the most 
 striking characteristics of the modern mind is 
 the tendency to think less of man, in proportion 
 as larger views have to be taken of the universe 
 in which man dwells. Human beings are often 
 nowadays regarded as mere ripples upon the 
 infinite ocean of matter. 
 
The Greatness of Man. 285 
 
 But this way of looking at things seems to me 
 thoroughly erroneous — I may say absurdly erro- 
 neous. It assumes that we have nothing on 
 which to pride ourselves except our physical ex- 
 tension and our physical weight. It assumes that 
 we are merely small masses of matter. But our 
 real glory lies in that which is not material, in 
 that which is absolutely destitute of extension 
 and weight — viz., in our mental powers. The 
 proper comparison to make, is not between the 
 small bulk of a human being and the vast bulk 
 of the material world, but between a human 
 being who has a mind and the material world 
 which has not. "Why should we be depressed by 
 the knowledge we have acquired of the physical 
 greatness of the universe ? That very knowledge 
 is a proof of our own more amazing glory. The 
 material universe does not know itself. We 
 know both ourselves and it. And since, further, 
 we are endowed with sensibility, imagination, 
 memory, hope, affection, reason, conscience, will 
 — and the material world is not so endowed — 
 we. are in reality great, it is comparatively insig- 
 nificant. A single human soul infinitely tran- 
 scends in importance the entire universe of 
 matter. If we would but remember this, the 
 more progress that we made in science, the 
 

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288 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 tinues, " a little lower than Thyself ; Thou gavest 
 him a nature like Thine own, differing in degree 
 rather than in kind; Thou crownedst him with 
 glory and honour; Thou madest him to have 
 dominion over the works of Thy hands; Thou 
 hast put all things under his feet." 
 
 This will be the ultimate conclusion of deepest 
 and clearest thinkers. The profoundest philos- 
 opher America has produced, who has recently 
 been taken to his rest in a ripe old age, combined 
 in a remarkable degree the intensest appreciation 
 of nature with the intensest appreciation of man. 
 No one ever thought more of nature than did 
 Emerson ; but he believed, truly enough, that 
 she derived much of her glory from her relation 
 to us. " rich and various man," he exclaims, 
 " thou palace of sight and sound, carrying in thy 
 senses the morning and the night and the un- 
 fathomable galaxy, in thy brain the geometry 
 of the city of God, in thy heart the power of 
 love and the realms of right and wrong ! " 
 
 The doctrine of man's paltriness is no less 
 pernicious than erroneous. So morbid a belief 
 must react injuriously upon character. There 
 is nothing more enervating than depression ; and 
 the worst form of depression is self-contempt. 
 In one of his most interesting letters of advice 
 
The Greatness of Man. 289 
 
 to a young convert, Pelagius says he will begin 
 by laying down what human nature can do, lest 
 from an insufficient conception of its powers, too 
 low a standard of duty and exertion should be 
 taken. Men are careless, he says, in proportion 
 as they think meanly of themselves; and for 
 this reason the sacred writers often endeavour 
 to animate us by styling us "sons of God." 
 Pelagius was right. We should resist every 
 attempt, whether proceeding from scientists or 
 religionists, to make us take a paltry view of 
 our place in the universe. Such attempts can 
 only proceed from science or religion falsely so 
 called. They are based, as I have shown, upon 
 an untrue assumption. They are condemned 
 alike by fact and by Scripture. And if we 
 allow ourselves to be influenced by them, the 
 result will be disastrous in the extreme. If we 
 believe that we are more insignificant than the 
 dead and mindless world around us, we shall 
 never give ourselves much trouble about char- 
 acter. A certain amount of prudence, of course, 
 is necessary for self-preservation, and for pro- 
 curing the esteem of our fellow-men, without 
 which life would be unendurable. So far, we may 
 be prudent — or, as it would be euphemistically 
 called, virtuous. But beyond this we shaU not 
 
 T 
 
290 The Greatness of Man. 
 
 care to go. On the other hand, if we remember 
 that our spiritual nature is akin to God's, made 
 only a little lower than His, made perhaps as 
 nearly like His own as it was possible for God 
 Himself to make it, then we are stimulated to 
 cultivate the manhood with which we have been 
 endowed — to agonise, if need be, till we become 
 perfeqt, even as He is perfect. 
 
291 
 
 Punishment. 
 
 "God is a consuming Are." — Hebrews xii. 29. 
 " God is love."— 1 John iv. 16. 
 
 A EE these two statements reconcilable with 
 ■^^ one another, and with the facts of experi- 
 ence ? They seem to be contradictory ; but they 
 are not, on that account, to be rejected — for an 
 apparent paradox is often the most accurate 
 expression of the truth. We get into the way 
 of dwelling upon one side or aspect of a truth, 
 either because that aspect has been most fre- 
 quently brought under our notice, or because it 
 is most congenial to our habits of thought and 
 modes of feeling ; and at last we forget — if we 
 ever knew — that the truth has other, equally 
 important, aspects. The complete truth is of 
 course very different from our one-sided and 
 distorted view of it. One half of a truth, if 
 mistaken for the whole, is equivalent to false- 
 
292 Punishment. 
 
 hood. This is illustrated by the celebrated 
 quarrel regarding the nature of a certain shield. 
 One person said it was made of gold, and another 
 that it was made of silver. They were both 
 right, and both wrong. They had been looking 
 at it from different points of view; and one 
 had seen only the inside which was silver, the 
 other only the outside which was golden. The 
 attainment of perfect truth always involves a 
 combination of partial views, and often requires 
 the reconciliation of apparently irreconcilable 
 facts. Till we have reconciled the contradiction, 
 however, till we have removed the difficulty, 
 we cannot accept them both. And it is just as 
 impossible to hold a theological contradiction 
 as to think that twice two make five. If a 
 man professes to believe statements which appear 
 to him to be contradictory, he is not manifest- 
 ing faith, he is, in plain English, telling a lie. 
 Before he can actually believe seemingly con- 
 tradictory statements, before he can do anything 
 more than dishonestly profess to believe them, 
 he must be shown that the apparent contradic- 
 tion is not real, that the statements, though 
 seemingly irreconcilable, are in fact only dif- 
 ferent aspects of one and the self-same truth. 
 And since truth is many-sided, we are never 
 
Punishment. 293 
 
 more likely to attain it than when we are 
 examining seeming paradoxes. 
 
 Now our text sounds paradoxical. Let us 
 inquire if these two apparently irreconcilable 
 statements can be brought into harmony. 
 
 That " God is a consuming fire " cannot be 
 doubted. The nature of the unseen Power that 
 punishes the wrong-doer will always be a matter 
 for controversy ; but the fact that retribution, in 
 some form or other, follows sin, has never been 
 and can never be disputed. Professor Huxley, in 
 one of his lay sermons, has the following striking 
 passage : " The happiness of every one of us, and 
 more or less of those connected with us, depends 
 upon our knowing something of the rules of a 
 game, infinitely more complex than chess. It is 
 a game which has been played for untold ages, 
 every man and woman of us being one of the 
 two players in a game of his or her own. The 
 chess-board is the world, the pieces are the 
 phenomena of the universe, the rules of the 
 game are what we call the laws of nature. The 
 player on the other side is hidden from us. We 
 know that his play is always fair, just and 
 patient. But also we know, to our cost, that 
 he never overlooks a mistake or makes the 
 smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man 
 
294 Punishment. 
 
 who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with 
 that sort of overflowing generosity with which 
 the strong shows delight in strength. And one 
 who plays ill is checkmated, without haste but 
 without remorse." 
 
 The fact of punishment, then, is indisputable. 
 The only question admitting of controversy is 
 this, Can punishment be traced to any reasonable 
 and intelligible cause ? 
 
 The most common view perhaps has been, 
 that the invisible Power, who works against the 
 sinner, is a spiteful and revengeful Being, dispens- 
 ing pain and anguish in haughty anger that His 
 commands have been disobeyed. For example, 
 Tacitus, in speaking of some great disasters which 
 had befallen the Eoman arms, says : " It is evi- 
 dently not our welfare that the gods have at 
 heart, but the due retribution of our crimes." 
 And unfortunately a similar doctrine has not 
 unfrequently been taught by professedly Christian 
 theologians. "There are people," says Diderot, 
 " of whom we must not say that they fear God, 
 but that they are frightened of Him. Consider- 
 ing the picture that is sometimes drawn for us of 
 the Supreme Being, of His readiness to anger, of 
 the fury of His vengeance, of the great numbers 
 of those whom He allows to perish, as compared 
 
Punishment. 295 
 
 with the few to whom He is pleased to stretch 
 forth a saving hand, — the most righteous soul 
 must be tempted to wish that He did not exist." 
 I am sorry to say it, but say it I must, that 
 the blackest devil ever described or imagined 
 would be adorable, in comparison with the 
 horrible caricature of Deity which some have 
 professed and endeavoured to worship, under 
 the mistaken opinion that He was the God re- 
 vealed by Christ. I know of nothing sadder, 
 nothing more shocking, in the history of re- 
 ligion, than the general prevalence of degrading 
 and blasphemous conceptions of the Almighty. 
 They are often instilled into children, consciously 
 or unconsciously, almost as soon as they can 
 speak. A little Scotch girl, five or six years of 
 age, was reproved by her mother for doing some- 
 thing wrong, and was told that God would not 
 be pleased with her if she did it. '' Pooh ! she 
 said, " God will be too busy 'burning up the lad 
 people to attend to me." Now that child — I 
 can vouch for the truth of the story — was the 
 granddaughter of a Scotch minister, had received 
 what would be called religious instruction, and 
 yet she thought of God as a being whose main 
 business, whose supreme deKght, consisted in 
 " burning up the bad people." And this is no soli- 
 
296 Punishment. 
 
 tary instance. "Would to God that it were ! A 
 great many grown-up persons hold similar views, 
 and they find much to countenance them in the 
 pages of certain theologians. The laws of the 
 being whom these writers call God, are represented 
 as the mere arbitrary exactions of His caprice. 
 He does not command or forbid things because 
 they are essentially right or wrong ; but, on the 
 contrary, the terms right and wrong mean only 
 that certain things have been commanded or for- 
 bidden by Him out of pure self-wiU. He pun- 
 ishes every dereliction from His statutes, simply 
 and solely from motives of wrathful vindictive- 
 ness. His very "love" is the crowning proof 
 of the meanness of His nature ; for the few rare 
 individuals upon whom He chooses to bestow it 
 are selected at random, without the slightest show 
 of reason ; not because they deserve to be loved ; 
 not in order that, by being loved, they may be 
 purified and ennobled : no, He selects them sim- 
 ply and solely for the gratification of what is 
 called "His glory." Such a blasphemous re- 
 presentation of the Deity, Milton justly puts 
 into the mouth of the hideous sorceress (the 
 personification of sin) whom he represents as 
 guarding the gates of hell. She speaks to 
 Satan of 
 
Punishment. 297 
 
 "Him who sits above and laughs the while 
 At thee, ordained His drudge, to execute 
 Whate'erHis wrath (which He calls justice) bids." 
 
 If justice were synonymous with wrath, it 
 could not be divine. Ages ago Protagoras said, 
 " None but a beast would punish merely because 
 evil had been done." If the unseen Being who 
 punished our wrong-doing consumed in order to 
 destroy, if He were satisfied by wringing out 
 agony from erring hearts, He would be not Love 
 but Hate, not a God but a Fiend. And if such 
 a Being were the strongest Power in the universe, 
 it would be the bounden duty of every true man, 
 not to worship but to execrate Him, not to obey 
 Him but to resist Him — if need be, even unto 
 death. In that case, it is to be hoped there 
 would always be 
 
 ' ' Souls who dared look the omnipotent tyrant in 
 His cTerlasting face, and tell him that 
 His evil was not good. 
 
 There is a very striking passage on this sub- 
 ject in John Stuart Mill's ' Examination of Sir 
 William Hamilton's Philosophy.' " If, instead of 
 the glad tidings that there is a Being in whom 
 all the excellences which the human mind can 
 conceive exist in a degree inconceivable to us, I 
 am informed that the world is ruled by a Being 
 
298 Punishment. 
 
 whose attributes are infinite, but what they are 
 we cannot learn, nor what are the principles of 
 His government, except that the highest human 
 morality which we are capable of conceiving does 
 not sanction them, — convince me of it, and I 
 will bear my fate as I may. But when I am 
 told that I must believe this, and at the same 
 time call this Being by the names which express 
 and affirm the highest human morality, I say in 
 plain terms that I will not. Whatever power 
 such a Being may have over me, there is one 
 thing which He shall not do, — He shall not com- 
 pel me to worship Him. I will call no Being 
 good who is not what I mean when I apply that 
 epithet to my feUow-creatures ; and if such a 
 Being can sentence me to hell for not so calling 
 Him, to hell I will go." A noble sentiment, 
 though one curiously inconsistent with utilitari- 
 anism, which asserts pleasure to be the sole end 
 of life. This is one of many passages in Mill's 
 writings which go to prove that he was wiser 
 and nobler than he knew. It is precisely the 
 sentiment of the prophet Isaiah : " Woe unto 
 them that call evil good, and good evil ; that put 
 darljness for light and light for darkness, bitter 
 for sweet and sweet for bitter." 
 
 But neither the facts of experience nor the 
 
Punishment. 299 
 
 statements of the Bible, rightly understood, give 
 any countenance to the theory that the world is 
 governed by a tyrant. In the 'Lay Sermons,' 
 from which I just now quoted. Professor Huxley 
 continues : " My metaphor [about the invisible 
 player] wiU remind some of you of the celebrated 
 picture, in which Eetzsch depicted Satan playing 
 at chess with a man for his soul. Substitute for 
 the mocking fiend in that picture a calm strong 
 angel, who is playing for love (as we say) and 
 who would rather lose than win, and I should 
 accept it as an image of human life." Or rather, 
 I would suggest, substitute a being stronger and 
 calmer than an angel, who not only would rather 
 lose than win, but who aims solely at enabling us 
 to be victorious, and whose condign punishment 
 of false moves has no other purpose than to teach 
 us our folly and make us wiser for the future. 
 
 There is nothing more needful than punish- 
 ment for the wellbeing of the human race. The 
 necessity for it could not have been avoided by 
 any conceivable possibility. Our moral freedom, 
 without which we should have been merely ani- 
 mals or machines, carries with it inevitably the 
 liability to sin. Sin is injurious to us, because 
 the pleasure that follows from it is at best of a 
 low type, and has to be paid for by a too pro- 
 
300 Punishment. 
 
 digal expenditure of pain. Theft, murder, adul- 
 tery, evU-speakiag, lying, and so on, must from 
 their very nature be prejudicial to the welfare 
 of society, with which the welfare of every 
 individual member is inextricably involved. 
 Imagine, e.g., a lawless tribe of savages. Par- 
 ticular members of this tribe might, for a time, 
 find pleasure in robbing their friends and mur- 
 dering their enemies, but it could not be long 
 before the tribe was annihilated. Any super- 
 natural interference to ward off the punishments 
 of crime would soon lead to the destruction of 
 society. And just as punishment is necessary 
 for the welfare of society in general, so is it 
 necessary for the self - development of every 
 individual in particular. It lies in the very 
 nature of things that duty and inclination must 
 sometimes be incompatible ; and a noble charac- 
 ter is only to be achieved by the sacrifice of 
 inclination, when it would interfere with duty. 
 Now, nothing can afford us a stronger induce- 
 ment to resist temptation, nothing can be a 
 greater help to us in our moral conflicts, than 
 the certain Icnowledge that suffering, sooner or 
 later and in various forms, will inevitably foUow 
 sin. From the greatest punishment of wrong- 
 doing — namely, the deterioration of our charac- 
 
Punishment. 301 
 
 ter^ — God Himself could not save us; no, not 
 even by a miracle. It is conceivable that He 
 might interfere so as to save us from some of the 
 consequences of our evil deeds. It is conceiv- 
 able, for example, that He might refrain from 
 visiting us with those pangs of conscience, which 
 may be supposed to come more directly and 
 immediately from Himself. But were He to do 
 so. He would be inflicting on us the greatest 
 possible injury : He would be doing his best to 
 destroy us. The withdrawal of punishments 
 would prevent us from achieving that character 
 which is the one thing worth living for, and 
 without which we may well be described, in the 
 emphatic language of the Bible, as being lost, as 
 having perished. 
 
 It is very often stated, by persons who profess 
 to be expounding the doctrines of Christ, that 
 God is Justice as well as Love. The Bible does 
 not say so. It merely says that God is just. 
 The meaning of this distinction we may take to 
 be, that justice is not something opposed to love, 
 but is rather its necessary outcome. It is just 
 that the sinner should be punished in proportion 
 to his sin, because only in this way can he be 
 saved from that sin, which is the consummation 
 that love desires. In other words, just punish- 
 
302 Punishment. 
 
 ments may be regarded as expressions of love. 
 I forget who it is wlio says, " A God all mercy 
 is a God unjust." If by mercy he meant with- 
 holding punishment, we may say with equal 
 truth, "A God aU mercy is a God unkind." 
 "Nothing emboldens sin," says one of Shake- 
 speare's characters, " so much as mercy." But to 
 do anything that emboldens sin is in reality to 
 act most unmercifully. Eli, in the treatment of 
 his children, is a type, not of affection, but of 
 indifference. It is only a sickly sentimentalism 
 that withholds punishment, when punishment 
 would be useful. God is too merciful for this. 
 "Whom the Lord lovdh He chasteneth." 
 
 Plato, in his ' Gorgias,' argues, in reference to 
 the punishments inflicted by society, that the 
 man who manages to avoid them is to be pitied ; 
 for, as vice is a disease of the soul and punish- 
 ment is its cure, he who gets off scot-free is 
 left, so far as society is concerned, to die of 
 his disease. And we may argue in a similar 
 manner regarding punishments in general. Just 
 as the caustic applied by a physician is meant 
 to destroy the disease which might otherwise 
 destroy the body, so the fire of retribution is 
 intended to consume the sin which might else 
 
Punishment. 303 
 
 consume the sinner — which might eat away his 
 manhood, and leave him wasted, marred, ruined, 
 lost. God is not " satisfied " with the suffering 
 that follows sin. The suffering is merely a 
 means to an end, and that end is joy. God's 
 glory can be no selfish pride. It must consist 
 in the welfare of His creatures. " The Lord's 
 portion is His people." Hence, as Faber has 
 finely said — 
 
 " God's justice is the gladdest thing 
 Creation can behold. 
 
 There is a wideness in His mercy 
 
 Like the wideness of the sea ; 
 There is a Mnd/ness in His justice 
 
 Which is more than liberty." 
 
 So the two apparently contradictory statements 
 of our text are reaUy quite consistent. The first 
 is a corollary easily deducible from the second. 
 If God be love. He must punish. Hence the fact 
 of punishment is not an argument against the 
 divine benevolence, but an additional argument 
 for it. On the one hand, a retributive fire, 
 consuming only to destroy, would be diabolical. 
 On the other hand, a love which withheld the 
 punishment essential to our weUbeing would be 
 contemptible, and equally destructive. It would 
 
304 Punishment. 
 
 harm us while meaning to be kind. Out of pity 
 it would ruin us. The love which consumes in 
 order to save is alone worthy of being called 
 divine. 
 
 As long as the universe contains a single 
 sinner, the fire of love must be a consuming 
 fire. 
 
305 
 
 The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 ' There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are 
 differences of administrations [or rather services], but the same 
 Lord. There are diversities of operations [or workings], but it 
 is the same God which worketh all in all. . . . The mani- 
 festation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit withal." 
 —1 COK. xil 4-7. 
 
 TNTELLECTUAL progress consists in discover- 
 ing the unity whicli underlies all diversity. 
 In early ages the world seemed a chaos. Every- 
 thing appeared to be totally different from every- 
 thing else. Thousands and tens of thousands 
 of conflicting agents were supposed to be at 
 work in the production of natural phenomena. 
 The woods appertained to one set of deities — 
 the dryades ; the mountains to another set — 
 the oreades. Every star and every planet had 
 a moving principle peculiar to itself. Storms 
 and earthquakes, pestilences and eclipses, were 
 thought to be the work of a variety of beings, 
 who were guided by all sorts of different motives, 
 u 
 
3o6 The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 and whose future action it was absolutely im- 
 possible to predict. There were gods many and 
 lords many, who found in the material universe 
 a convenient playground for their manifold ca- 
 prices. The history of science records the gradual 
 discovery in this primeval chaos of the unifying 
 principle of Law. Over and over again, phenom- 
 ena that seemed altogether dissimilar, have turned 
 out to be merely different operations of one and 
 the self-same force. The apple, which falls to 
 the ground, once seemed to have nothing in 
 common with the moon, which does not so fall. 
 But now we know that both are equally under 
 the control of gravity; that the moon is attracted 
 no less than the apple ; and that the tendency 
 to fall earthwards, produced in it by this attrac- 
 tion, is one of the factors determining its course. 
 Whenever we compare phenomena — ^no matter 
 how distant they may be from each other in time 
 or space, no matter how diverse they may at 
 first sight appear — we now always expect to 
 find in them an underlying unity of thought and 
 purpose and mode of working; and sooner or 
 later these expectations are fulfilled. In a word, 
 throughout the entire physical universe, there are 
 diversities of operations but the same reign of law. 
 This unity in the midst of diversity is to be 
 
The Gifts of the Spirit. 307 
 
 found also in the spiritual sphere. There are 
 diversities of gifts, says the apostle, but the same 
 Spirit. The enumeration of these gifts, a few 
 verses later on, is not of course intended to be 
 exhaustive, but merely illustrative. Those which 
 St Paul mentions may be roughly divided into 
 two classes. The first, or secular class, includes 
 the gifts of teaching, of healing and of govern- 
 ment. The second, or religious class, includes 
 those of prophecy and of tongues. What this 
 last precisely was, I do not know. But there 
 would seem to have been a very great and un- 
 holy emulation among the Corinthian Christians 
 to possess it. They looked upon it as a pecu- 
 liarly spiritual endowment. St Paul was anxi- 
 ous to show them that this state of mind was 
 foolish and wrong. The gift of tongues, he says, 
 is only one of many spiritual gifts, and by no 
 means the best. He declares that in com- 
 parison with charity, or the enthusiasm of man 
 for man, this highly coveted gift of tongues is 
 nothing worth. He mentions a crucial test 
 by which spiritual gifts may be known, and 
 their relative value determined. " The manifesta- 
 tion of the Spirit is given to every man to profit 
 withal ; " — that is, as we see from the context, 
 for the purpose of doing good therewith. Even 
 
o 
 
 ,08 TAe Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 a secular endowment, such as the power of heal- 
 ing, becomes a gift of the Spirit to him who is 
 desirous of using it worthily — of using it for the 
 welfare of his fellow-men. Such a desire is an 
 inspiration that can only come from above, and 
 this inspiration transforms what would otherwise 
 be a mere natural endowment into a sacred spir- 
 itual gift. The mistake of the Corinthians was 
 similar to one that is not uncommon in the 
 present day. It is sometimes imagined that a 
 man in holy orders is, in virtue of those orders, a 
 better Christian than a layman, that a clergy- 
 man as such is, in an especial degree, under the 
 guidance of the Spirit of God. So foolish and 
 unscriptural a supposition is not at all necessary, 
 in order to vindicate the usefulness of the clergy 
 as a class of teachers. If in the choice of his 
 profession a clergyman has followed the guidance 
 of his natural inclinations and sympathies and 
 gifts, and if he has made a good use of his edu- 
 cation and of his leisure, he will often be able, in 
 cases of mental or spiritual difficulty, to render 
 the greatest assistance to men, who have had to 
 devote the most of their time and the best of 
 their energies to purely secular pursuits. But 
 ■after all, even in spiritual matters, there is no 
 exclusively clerical prerogative. I pity the cler- 
 
The Gifts of the Spirit. 309 
 
 gym an who has not sometimes been ministered 
 unto, when he went to minister. If he has never 
 been taught by a layman some spiritual lesson, 
 more valuable than any he was able at the time 
 to impart, the chances are that he is not a 
 specially inspired priest, but rather a peculiar- 
 ly obtuse man. Profitableness, according to the 
 apostle, is the sole test and criterion of spiritual 
 gifts. He is the most highly gifted man who 
 does the most good. Human endowments are 
 very diverse, but in so far as the world is made 
 better by them, they are all to be regarded as 
 divinely bestowed. There are diversities of gifts, 
 but it is the same Spirit from whom they have 
 all been derived. 
 
 And further, not only do different gifts proceed 
 from the same Spirit, but there are different de- 
 velopments of the self-same gift. Let us take, 
 for example, the instinct of worship. If anything 
 deserves to be called pre-eminently a gift of the 
 Spirit, it is surely the tendency in the human 
 heart to recognise and reverence God. Yet the 
 developments of this instinct are various in the 
 extreme. The instinct is God's work, the devel- 
 opment of the instinct is man's. The office of 
 the Spirit, you will observe, is not to provide us 
 with an infallible set of doctrines or an immac- 
 
3IO The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 ulate set of actions. His work is to give us 
 powers, instincts, emotions, and sentiments, which 
 will be differently developed in different indivi- 
 duals. 
 
 " God fulfils Himself in many ways, 
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world." 
 
 There would be no use in our receiving a certain 
 set of opinions, however correct ; there would be 
 no advantage in our having a certain set of 
 actions extorted from us, however excellent. 
 Barren uniformity is death. Our spiritual life 
 consists essentially in our co-operation with G-od. 
 And the co-operation of different individuals, 
 under different circumstances, leads of necessity 
 to a diversity of opinions and of practices. For 
 instance, the attempt to form a conception of 
 God is, in every case, due to the divinely given 
 instinct of worship, but the conceptions actually 
 formed will vary according to circumstances. 
 Some men will be so anxious to represent God to 
 themselves, that they will give too much licence 
 to their imaginations, and thus tend to anthro- 
 pomorphism ; others will be so fearful of irrev- 
 erence, that they will scarcely venture to assign 
 Him any determinate attributes, and thus tend to 
 pantheism. You remember Lord Houghton's 
 words — 
 
The Gifts of the Spirit. 3 1 1 
 
 ' It must be that the light divine, 
 That on your soul is pleased to shine, 
 Is other than what falls on mine. 
 
 For you can fix and formalise 
 
 The Power to which you raise your eyes, 
 
 And trace Him in His palace skies. 
 
 You can perceive, and almost touch, 
 His attributes as such and such, 
 Almost familiar over-much. 
 
 You can His thoughts and acts display, 
 
 In fair historical array, 
 
 From Adam to the judgment-day. 
 
 I cannot think Him here or there ; 
 I think Him ever everywhere. 
 Unfading light, unstifled air." 
 
 We probably think both these conceptions erro- 
 neous, and have another of our own. And 
 yet it is not the light divine that varies ; the 
 difference lies in the medium through which it 
 comes to us — the medium, viz., of our previous 
 training. Thus very different conceptions of 
 God may be the outcome of the same yearning 
 after Him, the same delight in communion with 
 Him ; in other words, there may be different 
 developments of the same spiritual gift. 
 
 So it is, too, in regard to the outward forms 
 and ceremonies of worship. All emotions, both 
 natural and spiritual, may be very variously 
 
312 The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 expressed. Some, for example, mourn for the 
 departed in Hack raiment, others in white; 
 some, when they would pay respect, uncover 
 their heads, others uncover their feet; some, 
 if they are strongly moved, try and make the 
 greatest possible show of their feelings, and pour 
 forth their sentiments in a torrent of words, 
 while others endeavour to assume a preternatural 
 calmness — nothing short of silence can express 
 the intensity of their emotion. Similarly, the 
 self-same desire to honour God, may manifest 
 itself in the most diverse ways. Some wiU think 
 it necessary to go through the most elaborate 
 ritual, while to others a bald simplicity will 
 seem more in harmony with the solemnity of 
 worship. Some will feel that music draws them 
 heavenwards, others that it ties them down to 
 earth. Some will find that they can hardly pray 
 without a set form of words, others that they 
 can hardly pray with it. And so it may come 
 about that two men, equally anxious to honour 
 God, may adopt quite opposite modes of doing 
 so. There are diversities of workings, and yet it 
 is the same God who worketh. 
 
 What we have to look for in the spiritual, 
 as in the physical, sphere, is not uniformity 
 but unity — unity manifested through diversity. 
 
The Gifts of the Spirit. 313 
 
 Just as in nature, the action of any single 
 law is exhibited in a countless variety of forms, 
 some of which may seem at first sight to violate 
 it ; so in religion, the self-same gift and working 
 of the Spirit leads to the most diverse opinions 
 and the most dissimilar modes of worship. Just 
 as in nature, under the influence of forces iden- 
 tically the same, there is a constantly progressive 
 evolution of higher forms of life ; so in religion, 
 under the influence of the one Spirit, there 
 is a continual development of more accurate 
 opinions and more excellent practices. Creeds 
 and rituals may differ, and do differ of course, 
 in moral value ; and yet, so far as they are 
 honestly held and honestly performed, they may 
 all be regarded as developments of the same 
 divinely implanted instincts, of the same divine- 
 ly inspired emotions. 
 
 This is a lesson which many find it very hard 
 to learn. They imagine uniformity to be a 
 necessary test of the divine operations. They 
 suppose that the Spirit of God can only be 
 manifested through certain opinions and prac- 
 tices, more or less similar to their own. Some 
 time ago, the author of a book upon religious 
 denominations was told that, in a particular vil- 
 lage in the north of Scotland, he would find a 
 
314 The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 small sect which was rapidly becoming extinct, 
 but the members of which felt quite sure that 
 they alone were in the way of salvation. He 
 went to the village in question, and was there 
 directed to a cottage, in which lived the chief 
 representative of the expiring sect. The great 
 man happened to be out, so the visitor entered 
 into conversation with his wife. He said he 
 had been given to understand that the sect to 
 which she belonged was small in numbers. To 
 this she assented, explaining that there had been 
 defection after defection from unsoundness of 
 ^dews, till at last, as she pathetically put it, 
 " There is only just myself and Jock left, and 
 I'm na sae very sure of Jock." Now we may 
 smile at the ridiculous narrow-mindedness of 
 this foolish old woman, who supposed that she 
 was the only person in the universe whom God 
 had vouchsafed to instruct ; but after all, she is 
 merely an extreme illustration of a state of mind 
 that is by no means uncommon. There are, 
 unhappily, very many who delight in reducing 
 the operations of the Spirit to a minimiun. 
 They seem to find supreme comfort in the as- 
 surance that He is working only in the select 
 few, who agree in doctrine and in practice with 
 themselves. 
 
The Gifts of the Spirit. 3 1 5 
 
 It is sometimes urged against the Church of 
 England as a great disgrace, that it embraces 
 those who hold the most diverse opinions and 
 adopt the most diverse practices. But this is 
 in reality our Church's greatest glory. "A wise 
 man," said Bacon, " will sometimes hear ignorant 
 persons disputing, and know well within himself 
 that their meaning is the same, though in words 
 they cannot agree about it. We may well 
 suppose, then, that God above seeth in some 
 men's contradictions that they intend the same 
 thing, and accepteth of both." If there be any- 
 thing in which we may take a holy pride, it is 
 in the fact that our Church has succeeded in 
 partially mastering this lesson — the hardest 
 lesson in the school of Christ. But broad as 
 our communion is undoubtedly becoming, the 
 Spirit's influences are infinitely broader still. 
 God's " tender mercies are over all His works." 
 In heaven, if not on earth, men will discover 
 that their differences were much less, and their 
 agreement much greater, than at the time ap- 
 peared. All honest, earnest seekers after God 
 are in heart united, whether they know it or 
 not. Though distinct as the billows, they are 
 one as the sea; though distinct as the colours 
 of the rainbow, they are one as the pure white 
 
3i6 The Gifts of the Spirit. 
 
 light which those colours compose. The mount 
 of Truth has many paths. Those who are 
 ascending by different ways look too often upon 
 each other with suspicion and contempt. But 
 they will all be led onwards and upwards by 
 the Holy Ghost, till eventually they find them- 
 selves standing side by side before the throne of 
 the Eternal. 
 
 ' ' The saints of many a warring creed 
 At last in heaven have learned, 
 That all paths to the Father lead 
 Where Self the feet have spurned. 
 
 Moravian hymn and Eoman chant 
 
 In one devotion hlend, 
 To speak the soul's eternal want 
 
 Of Him, the inmost Friend. 
 One prayer soars cleansed with martyr fire, 
 
 One choked with sinner's tears ; 
 In heaven both meet in one desire, 
 
 And God one music hears. 
 
 Whilst thus I dream, the hells clash out 
 
 Upon the Sabbath air, — 
 Each seems a hostile faith to shout, 
 
 A selfish form of prayer. 
 My dream is shattered ; yet who knows, 
 
 But in that heaven so near, 
 These discords find hai-monions close 
 
 In God's atoning ear ? " 
 
317 
 
 The Triune God. 
 
 "The Father, the Son, and Holy Ghost."— Matt, xxviii. 19. 
 
 /^HEIST commanded the disciples to baptise 
 ^ their converts in the name of the Father, 
 the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He did so, be- 
 cause these three sacred names sum up all that 
 is most fundamental in the Christian faith. They 
 represent to us the whole of the divine opera- 
 tions, so far as we are concerned. God in Nature, 
 God in Christ, God in our own hearts ; God the 
 Creator, God the Atoner, God the Sanctifier ; this 
 is the God in whom we, as Christians, profess 
 to believe. Let us examine our belief in detail. 
 First of all, God is in Nature.^ Men may 
 know that He exists, and may know something 
 about Him, from a study of the external world 
 alone. The order, regularity, and above all the 
 
 1 For the complete proof of this assertion, see my 'Agnos- 
 ticism,' parti.; 'Belief in God,' chaps, iv. and v.; and 'Per- 
 sonality,' section 4. 
 
3i8 The Triune God. 
 
 progressive development which modern science 
 has brought to light, demand some explanation. 
 He who can find it ia blind atoms must have 
 a mind that is easily satisfied. No profound 
 thinker was ever an atheist. Nature does not, 
 it is true, tell us what is the kind of connec- 
 tion between God and the world. Whether the 
 forces of the material universe are parts of His 
 own essential power, or something quite differ- 
 ent from Himself ; whether they were made by 
 Him, or merely used, Nature does not say. But 
 according to the teaching both of common-sense 
 and of the highest criticism, she does declare 
 that these forces are in some way controlled 
 and governed by a Mind and Will. The re- 
 sults produced by their interaction are such as 
 intelligence might be supposed to aim at ; and 
 contrariwise, it would be flying in the face of 
 all experience to imagine that these results have 
 been brought about by the fortuitous play of 
 uninteUigent atoms. Plain, unsophisticated men 
 have always seen God in Nature, and so have 
 the deepest and most original thinkers. But a 
 little thought, just like a little learning, is a 
 dangerous thing. Atheism is the product of 
 careless and superficial thinking. In defence 
 of the assertion that profound thinkers have 
 
The Triune God. 319 
 
 always been theists, I might quote the opinions 
 of the ablest men in antiquity ; but, lest any one 
 should detract from the value of these quotations, 
 by saying that their authors would have been 
 wiser if they had lived in the nineteenth cen- 
 tury, let me rather refer to two of the leaders 
 of modern science — viz., to Herbert Spencer and 
 Charles Darwin, whom no one will accuse either 
 of being behind the age or being prejudiced in 
 favour of theology. " The belief," says Herbert 
 Spencer " common to all religions, in the om- 
 nipresence of something which passes compre- 
 hension, is a belief which the most unsparing 
 criticism leaves unquestioned, or rather makes 
 even clearer. It has nothing to fear from the 
 most inexorable logic ; but, on the contrary, it 
 is a belief which the most inexorable logic shows 
 to be more profoundly true than any religion 
 supposes." " No man," said Darwin, " can stand 
 in the tropic forests without feeling that they 
 are temples filled with the varied productions of 
 the God of nature, and that there is more in 
 man than the breath of his body." 
 
 Further, Nature suggests the fatherliness of 
 this omnipresent Power. I mentioned to you 
 before ^ that the old Aryans, before the dawn of 
 ' See p. 188. 
 
320 The Triune God. 
 
 history, had a word in their language, Dyaus- 
 pitar, which meant Heaven-Father. There was 
 a survival of this idea among the Greeks and 
 Komans, in the words " Zeupater " and " Jupiter." 
 The same conception is found among the Semitic 
 races, or at any rate in one of them. It is, as I 
 said just now, an idea suggested by Nature. He 
 who is perceived to be controlling and guiding 
 things, is also perceived to be controlling and 
 guiding them with a view to the wellbeing of 
 sentient and intelligent creatures. The happi- 
 ness of these creatures may be seen to be at least 
 one of the ends for which Nature exists and 
 works. This has been admitted by many who 
 are popularly regarded as altogether hostile to 
 religion. It was acknowledged even by John 
 Stuart Mill, in spite of his constitutional ten- 
 dency to pessimism. " Endeavouring," he says, 
 " to look at the question without partiality or 
 prejudice, and without allowing wishes to have 
 any influence over judgment, . . . there 
 does appear to be a preponderance of evidence 
 that the Creator desires the pleasure of His crea- 
 tures. This is indicated by the fact that plea- 
 sure, of one description or another, is afforded 
 by almost everything. The mere play of the 
 faculties, physical and mental, is a never-ending 
 
The Triune God. 321 
 
 source of pleasure. Even painful things may 
 give pleasure, by the satisfaction of curiosity and 
 the agreeable sense of acquiring knowledge. 
 And moreover pleasure, when experienced, seems 
 to result from the normal working of the ma- 
 chinery ; while pain usually arises from some 
 external interference with it — from the collision 
 of the organism with some outward force, to 
 which it was not intended that it should be ex- 
 posed." And, lastly — a point which Mill does 
 not notice — ^pain is necessary as a stimulus to 
 self-preservation ; it is required as a warning, to 
 make us avoid conduct which would be injurious 
 or fatal. All this leads to the conclusion that 
 the great omnipresent Power has exercised a 
 kindly thoughtfulness for our welfare, — that we 
 may, in a word, venture to call Him by the name 
 of Father. And let me ask you to notice that, 
 a'part from this fatherliness, the Power underlying 
 Nature would not be entitled to the name of God. 
 There is nothing divine in mere strength ; that 
 may be possessed by a mass of dirt. There is 
 nothing divine in wisdom and skill, as such ; 
 since they may be used for purposes of torture. 
 Power and wisdom will suffice to make a devil, 
 but not a G-od. Nature however does more 
 than exhibit to us power and skill ; she suggests 
 
 X 
 
322 The Triune God. 
 
 a kindly intention toward us, a thoughtful con- 
 sideration for us on the part of her Author : and 
 in doing so, she makes us conscious of a God. 
 
 But the teaching of Nature is not altogether 
 unmistakable. The forces of the material world 
 sometimes work against us, as well as for us. 
 Their beneficent results are visible only upon the 
 whole, and not in all the details of their opera- 
 tion. Some have suggested that matter was in- 
 tractable — unwilling, as Plato put it, to receive 
 the divine ideas. Theologians have often main- 
 tained that Nature was corrupted by the Fall. 
 But, be the cause what it may, the world around 
 us has sometimes suggested a capricious injustice, 
 instead of a fatherly beneficence. And even if 
 this apparent contradiction in the teaching of 
 Nature had never arisen, even if she had always 
 declared unwaveringly in favour of the divine 
 Fatherhood, — she could never have afforded a 
 complete revelation of the Deity. The character 
 of a person cannot be fully unfolded in any im- 
 personal work. Hence God, though suggested by 
 Nature, was only fully revealed by Humanity; the 
 Father is completely known only through the Son. 
 
 In almost every age and country there have 
 
The Triune God. 323 
 
 been men like Isaiah, or Zoroaster, or the psalm- 
 ists — men possessed by a passionate enthusiasm 
 for righteousness, and who declared that there 
 was a righteous Being at the heart of things, 
 with whom they themselves were in personal 
 communion. The Jewish nation, in particular, 
 was remarkable for a long succession of these 
 spiritual seers, which culminated eventually in 
 Christ. " God, who at sundry times and in 
 divers manners spake in time past unto the 
 fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days 
 spoken unto us by His Son." 
 
 Account for it how you may, the character 
 and life and work of Christ are unique, unique 
 to such an extent that He deserves to be called 
 the, Son of God. In a far higher sense than 
 any earlier or later prophet could attach to the 
 words. He was able to say — " I and my Father 
 are one ; he that hath seen me hath seen the 
 Father." Hence it is through Christ that we 
 may pre-eminently be said to have " received the 
 atonement";^ for it is pre-eminently through 
 Him that we have come to know the real nature 
 of God. Though the Fatherhood of God had 
 been revealed in Nature, it had been revealed 
 so dimly that it required a poet or a seer to 
 1 See pp. 213-225. 
 
324 The Triune God. 
 
 discover it.^ In Christ it became so plain that 
 " the wayfaring man, though a fool," need not 
 mistake it. The conception of the divine Father- 
 hood belongs nominally to the Jewish dispen- 
 sation ; yet while the word " Father " is applied 
 to God two hundred times in the New Testa- 
 ment, it is applied only three times in the Old. 
 Instead of the " untractableness " suggested by 
 Nature, the life of Christ verified His own 
 assertion — " my meat is to do the will of Him 
 that sent me." And so with His last breath He 
 was able to say " It is finished ! " God had been 
 completely revealed. 
 
 But even the divine revelation in Christ, full 
 and complete though in one sense it was, even 
 this was not enough, for it was still external to 
 man. Christ's revelation needed itself to be 
 revealed. Just as the Father is fully known 
 only through the Son, so the Son is fuUy known 
 only through the Holy Ghost. In other words, 
 it required a revelation of God in the individual 
 heart, to supplement and explain the teaching of 
 Nature and of Christ. This was fully effected 
 only when the Saviour had passed away. " If 
 1 P. 189. 
 
The Triune God. 325 
 
 I go not away," He said, "the Comforter [or, 
 rather, it should be rendered the Helper] will not 
 come to you." The ultimate purpose of Jesus 
 was to quicken men's inner, spiritual nature. 
 While He was with them, they never grasped 
 this purpose ; they supposed it was a carnal 
 life, of power and authority and dominion, to 
 which He was calling them. But when He was 
 gone from them in the flesh, and was with them 
 only in the spirit, then they began to see that, 
 unless His life had been a failure and His death 
 a mistake, it must have been something inward 
 and spiritual at which He had aimed. They 
 saw that the vocation to which they had been 
 really called was neither more nor less than 
 to become sons of God. And thus " after the 
 Saviour had disappeared as an outward authority. 
 He reappeared as an inward principle of life." 
 Men perceived that there was something higher 
 than living with Christ, something higher even 
 than living /or* Christ, — that it was at once their 
 duty and their glory to live Christ. They dis- 
 covered, as He foretold they would, that God was 
 not only in Nature and in Jesus, but in them- 
 selves ; and that if they yielded to His influences, 
 they too would become, in a sense, divine. 
 
 The Deity had been latent, so to speak. 
 
326 The Triune God. 
 
 within men from the first. For what were their 
 moral aspirations but the Spirit of the universe 
 in communion with their spirits, inspiring them, 
 impelling them, all but forcing them, to become 
 co-workers with Itself ? And to some extent 
 this truth had from time to time been recognised 
 and acknowledged. But the essential unity of 
 God and man, the fact that the finite life might 
 be possessed and suffused by the Infinite life, the 
 possibility- of a human apotheosis^ — all this 
 became clearer after Christ had passed away. 
 We now regard it as our destiny to be "filled 
 with all the fulness of God." We believe that 
 we ought, even now, to be able to say — " It is 
 not I who live, but God who liveth in me." 
 And it is just because we are thus conscious of 
 an indwelling Deity, whose presence within us 
 makes our lives divine, that we may be said, in 
 the language of theologians, to live under the 
 dispensation of the Spirit. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that we can 
 draw a strict line of demarcation between the 
 dispensations of the Father, Son and Spirit, or 
 that one was over before the next began.^ In a 
 
 ■• See 'Agnosticism,' pp. 376-378. 
 
 ^ The system of Sabellius, the reader will remember, in- 
 volved this false distinction. 
 
The Triune God. 327 
 
 sense, they have always been coexistent. We 
 have still the dispensation of the Father, for 
 Nature is yet around us to suggest God's benefi- 
 cent care. We have still the dispensation of 
 the Son, for we can, in imagination at any rate, 
 converse with the historic Christ ; and there are 
 men and women about us to-day in whom the 
 crucified Nazarene re-lives. Further, under the 
 old Jewish dispensation — the dispensation of 
 the Father, as it would be called in theological 
 language — there had been men who prefigured 
 and typified Christ; who by the lives they 
 lived shadowed forth, partially and vaguely but 
 stiU really, the great truths which Christ made 
 so plain. And long before the day of Pentecost 
 Grod's Spirit had been influencing men, both in 
 their common yearnings and aspirations, and in 
 the deep religious communion which psalmists 
 and prophets enjoyed. We however may be 
 said to live peculiarly under the dispensation of 
 the Spirit, in the sense that we have attained 
 to a clearer consciousness than the ancients of 
 an indwelling God. 
 
 And, once more, not only should we remember 
 that it is impossible strictly to distinguish be- 
 tween the dispensations, but we should also re- 
 member that the God of each dispensation is the 
 
328 The Triune God. 
 
 same.^ In the words of the old creed, "the 
 Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy 
 Ghost is God ; yet are they not three Gods, but 
 one God." It is the same kind and holy Being, 
 who appeals to us in the physical beauty of 
 nature, in the moral beauty of Christ, and in 
 those yearnings after a beautiful character of our 
 own which, do what we will, we can never com- 
 pletely extinguish. And, strictly speaking, God 
 is only known as God when He is recognised as 
 Father, Son, and Spirit. No one knows the full 
 meaning of the first expression who has not, in 
 his heart of hearts, experienced the full meaning 
 of the last. Just as it is good when a child 
 believes in his father's love, and better when he 
 learns to admire and reverence his father's char- 
 acter, but best of all when the father becomes 
 part of his inmost life, — a guiding principle, 
 a restraining power, the source of his highest 
 satisfaction and of his noblest development : so, 
 though it is good to realise the existence of God 
 the Father, and better to realise the existence of 
 God the Son, it is best of all to realise the exist- 
 ence of God the Holy Ghost. Not only is the 
 
 ^ The first Christian writer who distinctly taught a doctrine 
 liahle to the charge of Tritheism was Fhiloponus, in the middle 
 of the sixth century. 
 
The Triune God. 329 
 
 teaching of God in the heart fuller, deeper, and 
 clearer than His teaching either in Nature or in 
 Christ, but His inspiration is gradually enabling 
 us to become perfect, even as our Father in 
 heaven is perfect. Theoretically, God may be 
 much to a man who believes in the Father, and 
 more to a man who believes also in the Son ; but 
 practically, God is nothing to any one who is not 
 yielding to the influence of the Holy Ghost. 
 God vnthout us is but a subject of curious specu- 
 lation. It is God within ms that is the sum and 
 substance of all true religion and of all real life. 
 
 " We hear His voice when thunders roll 
 Through the wide fields of air ; 
 The waves obey His dread control. 
 
 Yet still He is not there. 
 Where shall I find Him, O my soul. 
 Who yet is everywhere ? 
 
 Oh, not in circling depth or height, 
 
 But in the conscious breast ; 
 Present to faith, though veiled from sight. 
 
 There doth His Spirit rest. 
 Oh, come, thou Presence Infinite, 
 
 And make Thy creature blest ! " 
 
330 
 
 The Connection between Reason 
 and Faith. 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS USE OF REASON. 
 
 " Be ready to give a reason to every man for the hope that is in 
 
 you."— 1 Pet. iii. 15. 
 "Believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of 
 
 God." — 1 JoHNiv. 1. 
 " Prove all things." — 1 Thess. v. 21 [or rather it should be, " test 
 
 all things ; " jonfui^eTe irai/ra is the Greek expression. The word 
 
 Sonfui^ctv is applied first and specially to the testing of metals 
 
 for the purpose of seeing if they are pure]. 
 
 rpEUE religion involves the harmonious and 
 -*- complete development of all parts of man's 
 nature. False religion consists in the attempt 
 to get rid of, or to suppress, certain parts in 
 favour of the rest, — the senses, for example, in 
 favour of the intellect, or reason in favour of 
 faith. I want to show you in this and the 
 
The Religious Use of Reason. 331 
 
 following sermons that there is nothing incom- 
 patible between the last-mentioned faculties, but 
 that, on the contrary, they imply and involve 
 one another. 
 
 It is, I am afraid, a very common opinion that 
 the exercise of faith necessitates a violent sup- 
 pression of reason. Some persons are so afraid 
 of their intellects, so certain their own judgment 
 would lead them astray, that they would seem 
 to regard the human mind, not as the breath of 
 God, but as a corrupting influence infused into 
 man by the devil. Others, again, though not so 
 distrustful of the powers of reason, appear to 
 imagine there is no virtue in believing anything 
 in which there can be perceived the slightest 
 glimmering of meaning. Eeligion, they think, 
 consists in professing to believe that which can- 
 not be understood. In proportion as they com- 
 prehend what they profess, their profession, they 
 fancy, loses its value. Even so wise a man as 
 Bacon was once foolish enough to say, " The 
 more incredible anything is, the more honour 
 I do God in believing it." Now the term in- 
 credible is equivalent in plain Saxon, as you 
 know, to unbelievable ; and unbelievable means 
 incapable of being believed. Bacon's assertion 
 therefore amounts to this, that the more in- 
 
332 Reason and Faith. 
 
 capable of being believed anything is, the more 
 we honour God in believing it. So that to 
 believe what cannot be believed at all would 
 be the acme of religious achievement ! Alas ! 
 at that rate the perfection of piety is quite 
 beyond our reach. 
 
 The absurdity of this determination to set 
 reason at defiance, and to eliminate her alto- 
 gether from the sphere of religion, may be shown 
 in various ways. In the first place, the irre- 
 ligiousness of reason has never been proved. 
 Those who object to the use of reason, generally 
 endeavour to justify their objection by some show 
 of argument. They reason against reason. But 
 this attempt to -prove the worthlessness of reason 
 is self-contradictory. If she be so unreliable, 
 her testimony cannot be relied on against her- 
 self. The arguments she provides and accepts 
 may, in this case as in others, be but paralo- 
 gisms, and therefore she may after all be valid, 
 in spite of her pretended proof of invalidity. 
 Keason then can never reason down herself. 
 
 In the second place, faith is not, as it is 
 sometimes misrepresented, the belief of what is 
 contrary to reason. "The human spirit is not 
 a thing divided against itself, in which faith and 
 reason subsist side by side, each asserting as 
 
The Religious Use of Reason, 333 
 
 absolute, principles contradicted by the other." 
 Though religion contains much that the reason 
 cannot fully comprehend, yet, in so far as it is 
 true, it can contain nothing that is positively con- 
 tradicted by the reason. For we are so consti- 
 tuted that we cannot believe a contradiction. N"o 
 power in the universe, for example, could mate 
 us think that we both existed and did not exist 
 in the same indivisible moment of time.^ We 
 might be persuaded that it was desirable for 
 certain purposes to profess a belief in both these 
 contradictory statements, but omnipotence itself 
 could not compel us really to believe them. Now 
 faith cannot require us to say that we are doing 
 what, by the very constitution of our nature, we 
 are for ever precluded from accomplishing. If 
 it did, then in order to be religious we must be 
 dishonest, in order to have faith we must first 
 become liars. 
 
 In the third place, revelation is not inconsist- 
 ent with the use of reason, but on the contrary 
 implies it. Eevelation of course is divine and 
 supernatural : it is an act, or series of acts, on 
 
 ^ It is scarcely necessary to say that, for this statement to be 
 true, the term "exist" must he used in precisely the same 
 sense in both instances. We must not, e.g., understand 
 "potentially" in one case, and " actually " in the other. 
 
334 Reason and Faith. 
 
 the part of Him who is above Nature. But the 
 very purpose of this supernatural intervention 
 is, as the word itself implies, to reveal, — to make 
 plain what was before unknown or obscure. To 
 treat revelation as if it could never be under- 
 stood, is practically to deny that it is revelation 
 — is practically to assert that God's purpose is 
 not to reveal, but to conceal, Himself. Further, 
 all religions profess to be revealed. In what 
 way then are we to decide between their rival 
 claims, in what way are we to estimate their 
 relative merits, but by the use of reason ? We 
 may select for adoption in the end that which 
 appears the most credible, or, following Bacon's 
 curious axiom, that which appears the most in- 
 credible ; but in both instances we have used 
 reason as a means of distinguishing the wheat 
 from the chaff. The only difference is, that in 
 the one case we conclude our investigation by 
 selecting the wheat, in the other by selecting the 
 chaff 
 
 In the fourth place, worship is not incon- 
 sistent with the use of reason, but on the con- 
 trary implies it. The value of worship depends 
 on the nature and character of that which is 
 worshipped. The mere feeling of reverence is 
 not everything; for this feeling is possessed by 
 
The Religious Use of Reason. 335 
 
 all who have any semblance of a religion. As 
 Shakespeare puts it — 
 
 " An idiot holds his bauble for a god." 
 
 That which is of the first moment is not the 
 feeling, but the object upon which the feeling is 
 bestowed. And what but reason — using reason 
 in the wide sense which makes it include con- 
 science — what but reason can decide upon the 
 rival claims to worship, put forward on behalf of 
 the diverse deities of different religions ? " If 
 there were no criterion," says Professor Caird, 
 " outside the sphere of feeling to which we could 
 appeal, any one man would have as good a right 
 to his religion as any other. Eeligion must in- 
 deed be a thing of the heart ; but in order to 
 elevate it from the region of subjective caprice 
 and waywardness, and to distinguish between 
 that which is true and false in religion, between 
 the lowest and most corrupt and the highest and 
 purest forms of religion, we must appeal to an 
 objective standard. That which enters the heart 
 must be discerned by intelligence to be true. 
 It must be seen as having in its own nature a 
 right to dominate feeling," — as deserving and 
 demanding reverence and awe. "Eeligion by 
 its very nature contains, and must ever contain. 
 
336 Reason and Faith. 
 
 an element of mystery, but a religion all mystery 
 is an absurd and impossible notion. In order to 
 awaken humility and awe, or indeed any emotion 
 whatever, an object must be something more than 
 the blank negation of thought. In the presence 
 even of finite excellence, of human genius and 
 learning, we may be conscious of feelings of deep 
 Immility, of silent, respectful admiration ; and 
 this, too, may be reverence for the unknown. But 
 that which makes this reverence a possible and a 
 wholesome feeling is, that it is reverence, not for 
 a mere blank inscrutability, but for what I can 
 think of as essentially the same with my own, 
 though far excelling mine in range and power. 
 In like manner the grandeur which surrounds 
 the thought of the Absolute — the infinite reality 
 beyond the finite — can only arise from this, not 
 that it is something utterly inconceivable and 
 unthinkable, but that it is for thought the 
 realisation of its highest ideal of excellence." A 
 God altogether unknown is as impossible a con- 
 ception as a God altogether known. A Being 
 who deserves to be called God must not only be 
 infinite, and therefore incapable of being entirely 
 comprehended; but He must also be infinitely 
 good, and therefore capable of being partially 
 comprehended. If the object of our worship 
 
The Religious Use of Reason. 337 
 
 were altogether unknown, we should not be able 
 to say whether He were good or bad, whether He 
 were God or devil. " Ye worship," said Christ 
 with holy contempt to the woman of Samaria, 
 " ye worship ye know not what ; we know what 
 we worship." This knowledge or understanding 
 of the object worshipped was, Christ added, the 
 special sign of a healthy spiritual state. " Salva- 
 tion is of the Jews." Those were in the soundest 
 spiritual condition to whom God had been most 
 plainly revealed, and by whom therefore He was 
 best understood. 
 
 In the fifth place, let me ask you to notice a 
 fallacy involved in the common notion that the 
 use of reason in religious matters implies doubt, 
 and that this doubt is antagonistic to faith. 
 There are, I must point out, two kinds of doubt. 
 There is one which aims at, and leads to, belief ; 
 and there is another which is self-contained and 
 self -contented. This latter kind of doubt is 
 scepticism. The first kind is called by philos- 
 ophers Cartesian doubt, after Descartes. In that 
 most interesting little book of his, 'The Tract 
 on Method,' which gives an autobiographical 
 sketch of his mental development, Descartes de- 
 scribes how, in the course of his studies, he made 
 the discovery that there was no opinion so absurd 
 Y 
 
338 Reason and Faith. 
 
 as not to have been held, and held tenaciously, 
 hy some one. This discovery led him to the 
 conclusion, that it was necessary to investigate 
 the grounds of all his beliefs. " I made it my 
 business," he says, " to reflect in each matter 
 upon what might fairly be doubted and prove a 
 source of error ; and so I gradually rooted out 
 from my mind all the errors which had hitherto 
 crept into it. Not that in this I imitated the 
 sceptics, who doubt only that they may doubt, 
 and seek nothing beyond uncertainty itself ; for, 
 on the contrary, my design was simply to find 
 ground of assurance, and to cast aside the loose 
 earth and sand, that I might reach the rock and 
 clay beneath." 
 
 Now, analogous to this Cartesian doubt in 
 matters of philosophy, there is, in matters of 
 religion, what we may call (after our texts) 
 Petriue, Johannine, or Pauline doubt. The 
 doubt which is implied in thoughtful investiga- 
 tion is not antagonistic to faith, but is on the 
 contrary its essential prerequisite. Faith always 
 involves, as 0. "W. Holmes remarks, the disbelief 
 of a lesser fact in favour of a greater. While 
 we are estimating the relative value of facts, our 
 minds may be said to be in a state of doubt ; 
 but unless we have estimated their value, we can 
 
The Religious Use of Reason. 339 
 
 never be sure that the fact we have accepted 
 is the greater. You have heard the criticism 
 upon a certain law - book called ' Dirleton's 
 Doubts/ offered by Lord Chancellor Hardwicke : 
 " Dirleton's doubts/' he said, " were better than 
 other people's certainties." They were better, 
 because the investigation of them led to know- 
 ledge ; whereas supposed certainties, not based 
 upon investigation, are nothing more than 
 ignorance. The same truth is expressed by 
 Tennyson in the often-quoted, and often-mis- 
 understood, lines — 
 
 " There dwells more faith in honest doubt, 
 Believe me, than in half the creeds." 
 
 Tennyson's meaning is just this, — If you or I 
 profess a creed without quite knowing what it 
 means, without stopping to consider what grounds 
 there may be for accepting it, without asking 
 ourselves whether the words commend them- 
 selves to our judgment as they did to the judg- 
 ment of those who first used them, our profession 
 is not faith, but falsehood. Not until we have 
 investigated its meaning, not until it is seen to 
 be the expression of what we have good reasons 
 for believing, can we honestly call the creed our 
 own. Such investigation is always very solemn, 
 
340 Reason and Faith. 
 
 and often very painful work ; but it is absolutely- 
 necessary that we make it, according to our 
 opportunities and abilities, if our faith is ever 
 to be worthy of the name. Do not be deterred 
 then from honest inquiry, by the foolish talk you 
 will sometimes hear about the irreligiousness of 
 doubt. The doubt which aims at reaching truth 
 is not irreligious, but is expressly commanded in 
 our texts. It will cost you much mental labour, 
 it may cost you much spiritual anguish, but your 
 reward wiU be great. In the end you will be 
 able to say — 
 
 " Doubt in misty caverns 
 'Mid dark horrors sought. 
 Till my peerless jewel, 
 Faith, to me she brought.'' 
 
 Sixthly and lastly, I may just point out that 
 our Church does not claim for its formularies 
 either infallibility or finality. In the twenty- 
 first Article we read : " General councils, foras- 
 much as they are an assembly of men whereof 
 all be not governed by the Spirit and Word of 
 Grod, may err, and sometimes have erred, even in 
 things pertaining to God." The Church of Eng- 
 land thus claims for itself the right to examine its 
 creeds afresh from time to time, to compare tliem 
 anew with divine revelation, to inquire whether 
 
The Religious Use of Reason, 341 
 
 they are the best possible expression of the truth, 
 and if not, to modify them in accordance with 
 the progressive teaching of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Nothing, then, prevents us, but on the con- 
 trary everything invites us, to the use of reason. 
 Stupidity is not faith. Superstition is not reli- 
 gion. Asserting that we believe what we have 
 never 'taken the trouble to inquire whether we 
 believe or no, is not piety, but cant. Persuad- 
 ing ourselves we believe what we dare not iaves- 
 tigate, for fear of discovering that we disbelieve, 
 is not orthodoxy, but hypocrisy. Professing that 
 we believe what we see to be contrary to reason, 
 and therefore essentially unbelievable, proves not 
 our regard for religion, but only our indifference 
 to truth. 
 
 What keeps men from reflecting on matters 
 which they say are of the highest moment is, for 
 the most part, either indolence or pride. They 
 do not care to begin a task of which they cannot 
 see the end ; or they fancy they know so much 
 already, that reflection can teach them no more. 
 Some may be deterred from religious thought 
 and inquiry by a mistaken idea of reverence, — by 
 supposing that the objects with which religion is 
 concerned are altogether unintelligible by finite 
 faculties. That this is a mistaken idea of rever- 
 
342 Reason and Faith. 
 
 ence, I have endeavoured to prove. But, for 
 those who profess to believe in the inspiration of 
 the Bible, the matter should require no proof. 
 The mere statement of my texts should be suffi- 
 cient : " Be ready to give a reason to every 
 man for the hope that is in you ; " " Believe not 
 every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be 
 of God ; " " Test all things." 
 
343 
 
 The Connection between Reason 
 and Faith. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE LIMITATIONS OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 " Canst thou by searching find out God ? canst thou find out 
 the Almighty unto perfection ? " — Job xi. 7. 
 
 TN the last sermon, I was endeavouring to show 
 -^ that we might, and that we ought, to use 
 oiir reason in religious matters. I have now to 
 remind you of the fact that, use our reason as 
 we wiU, there is much which must remain un- 
 known. 
 
 Some persons seem to imagine, if they were 
 to think at all there would be nothing left for 
 faith — if they tried to understand matters, 
 mystery would be at once annihilated. And 
 indeed the achievements of modern science might 
 
344 Reason and Faith. 
 
 seem, at first sight, to lend some countenance to 
 this most foolish opinion. To a careless student 
 it may appear as if there were nothing which we 
 had not found out, or were not on the point of 
 finding out. "We have analysed the material 
 universe into about five dozen elements and half- 
 a-dozen forces. We have studied the laws of 
 these elements and of these forces, till we seem 
 almost as well acquainted with Nature's habits 
 as with our own. We have measured, weighed, 
 and even discovered the composition of sun and 
 moon and stars. We have examined the human 
 brain, until we seem fairly in the way of local- 
 ising the mental faculties. In a word, we have 
 been making such progress in knowledge, that 
 there is almost an excuse for our imagining that 
 we are going to master everything. But a little 
 reflection wUl show that our knowledge after all 
 is but superficial, and that our ignorance is pro- 
 found. We do not know the ultimate nature 
 either of matter or of force. We have no means 
 of telling whether the component atoms of the 
 physical world are solid substances — according 
 to the general conception of them, or merely 
 centres of energy — according to the theory of 
 Boscovitch. We cannot say whether or no the 
 hardness of matter be more than the result of 
 
The Limitations of Knowledge. 345 
 
 " a rapid motion in something that is infinitely 
 yielding." In a word, we do not know whether 
 matter and force are two things or one. We 
 know even less of the nature of life. We are 
 acquainted with some of its conditions, but we 
 have not been able to form a theory as to what 
 it is itself. And less still, if that were possible, 
 do we know of the mystery of our own person- 
 ality. The materialist, of course, is ready with 
 an explanation. We are, he tells us, a mixture 
 of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen, with 
 a dash of phosphorus and iron. But if that ex- 
 planation fails to satisfy us, if we incline to the 
 supposition that we are something more, we shall 
 find ourselves face to face with an absolutely 
 insoluble problem. Did you ever ask yourself, 
 " What am I ? What is this mysterious being 
 who thinks and feels and remembers and wills, 
 of whose existence I feel so sure, but whom I 
 have never seen, and can never see ? " Did you 
 ever ask that question, and wait for a reply ? If 
 so, you are waiting yet. 
 
 Thus, you see, the slightest reflection will 
 suffice to convince us of the limitation of human 
 knowledge. 
 
 But there is an erroneous theory as to the 
 nature and causes of this limitation which is 
 
346 Reason and Faith. 
 
 unfortunately popular at present, — the theory of 
 those very negative philosophers who have chosen 
 to style themselves Positivists. According to 
 them, we can only know our feelings.^ On this 
 ground they tell us a man can never know that 
 he has a soul or mind ; for the soul cannot be 
 felt, and what cannot be felt is for us practically 
 non - existent. It is easy to show the fallacy 
 involved in this doctrine. What do you mean 
 when you speak of a sensation or feeling ? Mani- 
 festly the term is a single abstract word for a 
 concrete double fact. It means something felt 
 by some one. The some, one is as important a 
 part of the conception as the something ; for 
 without the some one to feel, the something 
 would not be felt. In other words, a soul or 
 mind is the necessary condition of feeling. Since 
 then feelings could not exist without the mind 
 to feel them, it is absurd to argue that the mind 
 does not exist, because it is not itself a feehng.^ 
 And though we do not, as I have intimated, 
 know what this mind is, it is to be remembered, 
 on the other hand, that we do not know what a 
 feeling is. Pleasure is pleasant, pain is painful ; 
 
 ' I use here, for the sake of simplicity, the common word feel- 
 ing. Tlie technical term would be " jihenomenal states of con- 
 sciousness." 
 
 " See my ' Personality,* sections \ and 2. 
 
The Limitations of Knowledge. 347 
 
 that is all we can say ; but what pleasure and 
 pain are in themselves, what it is that makes 
 things pleasant or painful, we cannot in the 
 faintest degree conceive. And mystery is not 
 restricted to that which is mental. The most 
 commonplace material object is full of it. You 
 remember those profound lines of Tennyson's : — 
 
 " Flower in the crannied wall, 
 
 I pluck you out of the crannies, — 
 Hold you here, root and all, in my hand. 
 Little flower ; but if I could understand 
 What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
 1 should know what God and man is." 
 
 If, then, the fact of an underlying mystery does 
 not prevent us from saying that we know such 
 things as pebbles and primroses, it need not pre- 
 vent us from saying that we know the human 
 soul. 
 
 The Positive philosophers tell us, again, that, 
 just as we are unable to recognise the existence 
 of the mind, so we are unable to recognise the 
 existence of God. " I have swept the heavens 
 with my telescope," says Lalande, " and have not 
 found a God." " I do not believe in the exist- 
 ence of God," said Clifford, " for I have not seen 
 His brain." It is the same kind of foolish argu- 
 ment by which they would make us disbelieve in 
 
348 Reason and Faith. 
 
 our own souls. Anything that could be felt 
 would not be a souL Anything that could come 
 within the sweep of a telescope would not be a 
 God. If a man persists in looking for an object 
 where he might have been quite sure that it 
 could not be, the fact of his failing to find it 
 proves nothing but his own perversity. And 
 not only is it impossible to see God by any com- 
 bination of lenses, but it must be admitted also 
 that the ordinary attempts to prove His existence 
 all faU short of certainty. There is one way 
 however in which it may be proved to demon- 
 stration, and that is by examining, after the man- 
 ner of Hegel, the nature of thought. Thought, 
 or mind, is the presupposition of everything. 
 All that we know, even of that which we call 
 matter, is certain states of consciousness which it 
 produces in us. So that, without thought, there 
 could be nothing. But the thought which is the 
 presupposition of all reality is not yours or mine 
 or any other individual thinker's, for the world 
 existed before we perceived it. Our limited con- 
 sciousness, therefore, implies the existence of 
 a consciousness that is unlimited ; our finite 
 thoughts necessitate the existence of an Infinite 
 Thinker.! 
 ' This is more fully explained in my ' Belief in God,' pp. 6C-76. 
 
The Limitations of Knowledge. 349 
 
 Our knowledge, then, is not restricted to that 
 which the senses can teach. Eeason may lead 
 us to the supersensuous ; reason may bring us 
 to God. But, — and here we come upon the 
 real limitation of our religious knowledge, the 
 most fundamental limitation, — though reason 
 will teach us to know God, it will never enable 
 us to fathom Him. My text, you will observe, 
 was uttered by Zophar : " Canst thou by search- 
 ing find out God ? canst thou find out the 
 Almighty unto perfection ? " Foolish persons 
 sometimes make wise remarks by accident ; but 
 they generally spoil the effect of these rare 
 flashes of wisdom by adding, in the same breath, 
 something that is very unwise. Zophar does so 
 in the present instance. The first part of his 
 sentence is false, for we can find out God. " If 
 thou shalt seek the Lord thy God, thou shalt 
 find Him, if thou seek Him with all thy heart 
 and with all thy soul." But the second half 
 of Zophar's sentence is profoundly true ; we 
 cannot find out the Almighty unto perfection. 
 
 We are, and shall ever be, precluded from 
 a perfect knowledge of God, by the fact that He 
 'is infinite and that we are only finite. If we 
 could completely understand Him, we should per- 
 ceive the meaning of all His actions. But this 
 
350 Reason and Faith. 
 
 we can never hope to do. " The monarchy of 
 the universe," says Bishop Butler, in his sermon 
 upon Ignorance, "is a dominion unlimited in 
 extent and everlasting in duration: the general 
 system of it must therefore be quite beyond 
 our comprehension. And since there appears 
 such a subordination, and reference of the 
 several parts to each other, as to constitute it 
 properly one administration or government, we 
 cannot have a thorough knowledge of the parts 
 without a complete knowledge of the whole." 
 Now, we are only acquainted with an infinites- 
 imal part of the universe, and so we cannot 
 entirely comprehend even that small fraction. 
 We see, for example, not only in heathen lands, 
 but even about us here in London, — we see men 
 and women living in the midst of such terrible 
 surroundings, that nothing but a miracle — which 
 is never worked — could, save them from the 
 lowest abyss of wretchedness and degradation. 
 If what we saw were all that there was to be 
 seen, then we should be justified in saying that 
 the Being who created them for such a fate was 
 cruel and unjust. But how if, somewhere in the 
 future, there be compensation in store for these' 
 hapless souls ! It may be that, if we could see 
 this compensation, and if we remembered, on the 
 
The Limitations of Knowledge. 35 i 
 
 other hand, that much will be required from him 
 .to whom much has been given, we should be 
 almost inclined to- envy some for whom our 
 hearts now bleed, and to weep for others whom 
 now we look upon as pre-eminently fortunate. 
 Still, we can never fvove, that the ways of the 
 Lord are equal. And though we sometimes dis- 
 cover, even in this Ife, that His dealings are less 
 unequal than at first appears, though we may 
 hope to make many more such discoveries in a 
 future' state, yet the limitation of knowledge 
 which is due to our being finite can never be 
 altogether removed. 
 
 But at present we have not reached a full use 
 of the powers that are really latent within us. 
 The law of the universe we know to be develop- 
 ment. This is the favourite word with modern 
 scientists. It is also the teaching of the highest 
 philosophy. We know that this law has been 
 exemplified in our own individual history. What 
 a marvellous change did we undergo between our 
 babyhood and our youth ! Still more wonder- 
 ful was the change from youth into manhood, 
 in those years when we acquired the habit of 
 thinking for ourselves. And if we are living our 
 best, we are still conscious of making progress. 
 Who then shall limit the development of which 
 
352 Reason and Faith. 
 
 we are capable, if there be an eternity before 
 us in which it may be achieved ? Our powers, 
 though they can never equal, may be constant- 
 ly approximating, to the very powers of God 
 Himself. 
 
 The limitation of knowledge, then, affords no 
 valid argument against the use of reason. The 
 fact that reason will not teach us everything, does 
 not justify us in refusing to derive from it such 
 instruction as it is able to impart. " If a man 
 were to walk by twilight, must he not follow his 
 eyes as much as if it were broad day and clear 
 sunshine ? Or, if he were obliged to travel by 
 night, would he not give heed to any light shin- 
 ing in the darkness ? It would not be altogether 
 unnatural for him to reflect how much better it 
 were to have daylight; he might perhaps have 
 great curiosity to see the country round about 
 him ; he might lament that the darkness con- 
 cealed many extended prospects from his eyes, 
 and wish for the sun to draw away the veil: 
 but how ridiculous would it be to reject with 
 scorn and disdain the guidance and direction 
 which that lesser light might afford him, because 
 it was not the sun itself ! " Not less foolish is 
 the man who refuses to use his finite reason 
 because it is not infinite. 
 
The Limitations of Knowledge. 353 
 
 And, further, the limitation of knowledge af- 
 fords no valid argument against the exercise of 
 faith. We saw in the previous sermon that our 
 faith, to be worth anything, must be a reason- 
 able faith. But the limitation of knowledge does 
 not prevent it from being reasonable. Not only 
 will reason teach us much, but it will also 
 supply us with suggestions as to why we do 
 not know more. Our p.owers must, in the 
 nature of things, be limited : for we could 
 not have been created infinite ; and finitude 
 means limitation. Further, we need not take 
 offence at knowledge being for us a gradual ac- 
 quisition. To do so would be as absurd as if a 
 child were to grumble because it was not born 
 grown up. The process of growth is the very 
 purpose of our existence. Nor need we be 
 angry at " the sore lets and hindrances " by 
 which we are at present trammelled, such as 
 the distractions of business, the petty worries of 
 life, or the easily exhausted powers of our phys- 
 ical organism. For the value of knowledge, 
 like that of everything else, is enhanced by the 
 difficulties amid which it has been achieved. 
 And even if, as is quite possible, certain things 
 have been purposely concealed from us which 
 we have already the natural capacity for under- 
 
354 Reason and Faith. 
 
 standing, this concealment may be eminently 
 wise and kind. " There is no manner of absur- 
 dity," says Bishop Butler, "in supposing a veil 
 on purpose drawn over some scenes of infinite 
 power and wisdom and goodness, the sight of 
 which might some way or other strike jis too 
 strongly; or that better ends are designed and 
 served by their being concealed, than could be 
 attained by their being exposed to view." In a 
 word then reason teaches us much, even put- 
 ting us in the way of understanding why it does 
 not teach us more ; and thus we are led up to a 
 reasoning and reasonable faith. 
 
355 
 
 The Connection between Reason 
 and Faith. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE FUNCTION OF FAITH. 
 
 " TTA VING boldness, . . . hy the blood 
 of Christ, . . . let lis draw near 
 
 in full assurance of faith. Let lis 
 hold fast the confession of our hope without 
 wavering. . . . Gall ever to remembrance 
 the former days, in which, v)hen first enlightened, 
 ye endured a great conflict of suffering, 
 and took joyfully the spoiling of your goods, 
 knowing that ye had for your own a better and 
 an abiding possession. Gast not away your confi- 
 dence. . . . Now, faiih is the substance of 
 things hoped for, the proof of things not seen. 
 
 By faith we understand that the 
 worlds were framed by the word of God, so that 
 
356 Reason and Faith. 
 
 what is seen was not made of things which 
 appear. . . . Se that coineth to God hy 
 faith must believe that He is, and that He is 
 the rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." 
 The writer then proceeds to mention instances of 
 patriarchal faith, — the most illustrative example, 
 perhaps, being that of Moses : "By faith, Moses, 
 when he was come to years, refused to be called 
 the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to 
 suffer affliction with the people of God than to 
 enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, esteeming 
 the reproach of Christ greater riches than the 
 treasure in Egypt, — for he had respect unto the 
 recompense of the reward. By faith he forsook 
 Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king, — for he 
 endured as seeing Him who is unseeable. 
 The time would fail me to tell of Gideon and of 
 Barak and of Samson and of Jephthah, of David 
 also and Samuel and of the prophets, who through 
 faith subdued kingdoms, . . . escaped the 
 edge of the sword, . . . turned to flight the armies 
 of the aliens, or (contrariwise) were tortured, stoned, 
 or sawn asunder, being destitute, afflicted,, tormented, 
 not accepting deliverance, that they mighi obtain 
 a better resurrection. . . . These all having 
 had witness borne to them on account of their faith, 
 received not the proviises, God having provided 
 
The Function of Faith. 357 
 
 some, tetter thitig for 11s, that they without us 
 should not he made perfect. Wherefore let us also, 
 seeing we are compassed about hy so great a cloud 
 of vntnesses, lay aside every weight, and sin which 
 doth naturally envjrap ws, and let us run with 
 patience the rcu:e that is set before us, looking unto 
 Jesus, the Author and Perfeder of our faith, who 
 for the joy set before Him endured the cross and 
 despised the shame. . . . Consider Him who 
 endured siich gainsayings at the hands of sinners, 
 that ye he not wearied and faint in your souls. 
 Ye have not yet resisted unto blood in your striving 
 against sin." — Hebrews x. 22 to xii. 6. 
 
 We have seen that religion implies and neces- 
 sitates the use of reason. We have seen, fur- 
 ther, that there are many fundamental religious 
 problems of which reason is unable to give us a 
 complete solution. We have now to consider 
 the function of faith, which comes in to help us 
 at the point where reason fails. 
 
 That faith begins where reason leaves off is 
 curiously illustrated by the fact that, according 
 to our text, it is faith which teaches us " the 
 worlds were framed by the word of God." Now, 
 as I intimated in the previous sermon, it is pos- 
 sible to demonstrate the existence of a divine 
 
358 Reason and Faith. 
 
 Creator, by a reflective examination of our con- 
 scious experience. But since this demonstration 
 was first given to the world by Hegel, and from 
 its excessive abstruseness is somewhat difi&cult to 
 understand ; and since further, as I mentioned 
 before, the ordinary logical arguments for the 
 existence of God are not perfect demonstrations, 
 it foUows that, as far as the majority of men are 
 concerned, the divine existence must be, as our 
 text asserts, a matter of faith. 
 
 Now, let us try and discover what faith is. 
 And let us begin by inquiring what is implied in 
 the ordinary man's faith in the existence of God. 
 Though it has not been proved to him by abso- 
 lutely perfect demonstration, it has nevertheless 
 more or less of a rational basis. The most ordin- 
 ary man can hardly have failed to perceive some 
 sort of adaptation in the world around him and 
 in himself. There is a beautiful landscape, and 
 here is an eye which sees it, a mind which appre- 
 ciates it, and a heart which is moved by it. Very 
 dense indeed must be the human being to whom 
 the idea has never occurred, that the landscape 
 and the eye and the mind and the heart were 
 made with some sort of view to one another. 
 But this suggestion does not amount to certainty. 
 Sometimes what appears to be design turns out 
 
The Function of Faith. 359 
 
 to be accident. Still, as the appearances of 
 design are multiplied, the possibility of their 
 being all due to accident becomes smaller ; and 
 when it is remembered that there are semblances 
 of design extending over a universe which is for 
 us practically infinite in space and time, the 
 possibility of their being all due to accident be- 
 comes infinitesimal. The atheist then adopts an 
 irrational belief, for he assumes that this smallest 
 conceivable possibility outweighs the largest con- 
 ceivable probability. The ordinary man on the 
 contrary, who believes in God because of the 
 adaptation which he seems to see around him, 
 adopts a rational belief. His reason has not 
 proved the divine existence to demonstration, 
 and yet it has afforded him arguments that are 
 all but irresistible. Faith then implies a rea- 
 sonable belief in the existence of God. 
 
 But faith, says the author of our text, implies 
 a belief that God is, and that He is the rewarder 
 of them that diligently seek Him — that is to say, 
 it implies a belief in God, not only as the Crea- 
 tor, but as the moral Governor of the universe. 
 The Hebrews had taken joyfully the spoiling of 
 their earthly goods, because they knew there was 
 in store for them a better and an abiding posses- 
 sion. Moses had chosen to suffer affliction with 
 
360 Reason and Faith. 
 
 the people of Qod, because he felt that the pleas- 
 ures of sin were only for a season, and because 
 he had respect unto the recompense of the reward 
 which was attached to the reproach of Christ. 
 The noble army of martyrs refused to accept 
 deliverance, in order that they might obtain 
 a better resurrection ; and though they had not 
 themselves received the promises, they died in 
 peace, feeling that they, and those who should 
 come after them, were members of a kingdom 
 which would be perfected in God's good time. 
 Even Jesus, the writer says, endured the cross 
 and despised the shame for the, sake of the joy 
 that was set before Him. 
 
 Now the moral government of the universe, 
 in which all these believed, can never be demon- 
 strated ; at least, no one has ever yet succeeded 
 in demonstrating it. Even those who are able 
 to prove conclusively by reason that God is, are 
 not able to prove in the same manner that He 
 is uniformly the rewarder of them that diligently 
 seek Him. It cannot be shown that it wUl 
 always go well with the good, for sometimes it 
 seems to go very ill with them. Faith implies 
 the conviction that these apparent exceptions to 
 moral government are not real. And far more 
 reasons can be discovered in support of this con- 
 
The Function of Faith. 361 
 
 viction than can ever be arrayed against it. As 
 a rule, good men are honoured for their good- 
 ness ; or, if they suffer wrongfully, they, gener- 
 ally speaking, have an inward peace which is 
 sweeter than any outward applause. These and 
 similar arguments, moreover, acquire additional 
 force if read in the light of the Gospel. It is the 
 blood of Christ, our author tells us — that is, the 
 sacrificial life of Christ — which pre-eminently 
 gives us boldness. It is in the light of the 
 Cross that we best discern the infinite value of 
 character, and he who has learnt this lesson can 
 " endure all things." On the whole then, though 
 we have not arrived at demonstration, we have 
 strong rational grounds for believing that the 
 Euler of the universe is not indifferent to our 
 actions, that the wages of virtue is not to be 
 dust, that sooner or later it will be well with the 
 righteous ; and if later, that there will be com- 
 pensation for the delay. Hence faith is not a 
 belief in anything unintelligible or irrational. 
 The proof of what is believed, though not by 
 any means complete, is good so far as it goes. 
 The Hebrew Christians, you wiU observe, en- 
 dured their great conflict of sufferings aj%e,r tJiey 
 were enlightened — that is, after reasons for faith 
 had been presented to them. 
 
362 Reason and Faith. 
 
 But though there is an intellectual element 
 implied in all true faith as its ground, the term 
 " belief," if used as a synonym for faith, is ter- 
 ribly misleading. Faith involves far more than 
 any mere mental assent. An intellectual belief 
 by itself no more constitutes faith than the foun- 
 dation alone constitutes a building. The belief 
 of the head must be supplemented by the confi- 
 dence of the heart ; and confidence is an active 
 emotion or sentiment, which inevitably shows 
 itself in corresponding conduct. It is true that 
 the term " belief " is occasionally used in this 
 sense, as when we speak of man's " believing in 
 himself." The man who believes — who knows 
 — that he is, or is to be, a great man, will act 
 accordingly. But this is not its commonest sig- 
 nification, and is not generally suggested to us 
 by the word. It commonly signifies merely a 
 passive, ^ tacit assent, which is certainly not 
 Christian faith. " Thou believest that there is 
 a God," says St James [or rather, that " God is 
 one," as the best MSS. read]. "So far well; 
 but if that is religion, the very devils themselves 
 are conspicuous examples of piety." Confidence, 
 rather than belief, is the proper synonym for 
 faith. St Paul not only says, in the Epistle to 
 the Eomans, that we are saved by faith, but in 
 
The Function of Faith. 363 
 
 the same Epistle he also asserts that we are 
 saved by hope. So, too, the author of our text 
 speaks of faith as implying a " fuU assurance " ; 
 he describes it as " the confession of hope " ; 
 and in urging his readers to cherish it, he says, 
 " Cast not away your confidence." 
 
 Now confidence, as I have said, is an emotion 
 or sentiment which necessarily shows itself in 
 conduct. There can be no mistake, therefore, as 
 to whether a man is possessed of faith. " By 
 their fruits ye shall know them." It is not easy 
 — it is, in fact, often impossible — to tell what a 
 man believes, in the ordinary sense of the word ; 
 for he may say he believes one thing, when all 
 the time he knows he believes another ; he may 
 even think he believes something, when in reality 
 he does not. But, just as it would be absurd for 
 us to make asseverations of bravery, when we 
 were visibly trembling at the very smell of pow- 
 der, so is it ridiculous to profess a confidence 
 that God will render to every man according 
 to his works, when we are acting as if this 
 were, to say the least, unlikely. He who is 
 confident cannot act as if he were in doubt. 
 Faith made Moses refuse to be called the son of 
 Pharaoh's daughter ; it led him to despise the 
 treasure in Egypt, and to set at nought the 
 
364 Reason and Faith. 
 
 wrath of the king. It inspired men with such 
 courage and strength, that they subdued king- 
 doms, escaped the edge of the sword, turned to 
 flight the armies of the aliens; or, if it were 
 otherwise ordained — if they were tortured, 
 stoned, sawn asunder — it helped them to bear 
 their agony without a murmur. It enabled the 
 Hebrew Christians originally to endure their 
 great conflict of sufferings, and to take joyfully 
 the spoiling of their goods j it would help them 
 in the future, says the writer, to run with 
 patience the race set before them, and in their 
 striving against sin to resist unto blood — that 
 is, to the extent even of laying down their 
 lives. 
 
 The test of faith therefore according to our 
 text is conduct, or, in theological language, works. 
 This might seem at first sight inconsistent with 
 the teaching of the Epistle to the Eomans. But 
 the" difference is only on the surface, and is ex- 
 plained by the different objects which the two 
 writers had in view. As Professor Blackie has 
 well pointed out, the author of the Hebrews 
 aimed at giving a full and complete exposition 
 of the nature of faith ; while St Paul, in the 
 Eomans, was endeavouring to expose the vanity 
 
The Function of Faith. 365 
 
 of a certain kind of works, and of works generally 
 if put forward as a substitute for faith. The 
 works which are depreciated in the Epistle to 
 the Eomans are the ceremonial and legal works, 
 mainly of an external character, on which the 
 Jews plumed themselves, in virtue of which they 
 fancied that they were better than their neigh- 
 bours and had special claims upon the favour 
 of the Almighty. All such pretensions St Paul 
 sweeps away. He shows, in the first place, 
 that they imply a total misapprehension of the 
 nature of morality, which is something essenti- 
 ally different from external ceremonialism. He 
 is not a Jew who is one outwardly, and the cir- 
 cumcision which is outward in the flesh is not 
 the real circumcision. But he is a Jew who 
 is one inwardly, and the important circumcision 
 is that of the heart and spirit. The apostle 
 points out also, in the second place, that when 
 confronted with the moral law — with an ideal of 
 perfection to which finite creatures can never 
 completely attain — all men, even the best, must 
 confess themselves sinners. You see, then, that 
 it was not against works as such that St Paul is 
 arguing, but against works put forth as a meri- 
 torious claim, or against the vain conceit of 
 
366 Reason and Faith. 
 
 self-righteousness, which implies a contemptible 
 moral standard and a degraded, condition of the 
 heart. Faith; on the contrary, involves a stead- 
 fast belief in an ideal morality, which as yet 
 we are far from having realised, but towards 
 which it should be our constant endeavour to 
 approximate. Hence faith is the spring of all 
 noble acts. 
 
 " And here," continues Professor Blackie, " we 
 have a true key, not only to St Paul's glorification 
 of faith in the Eomans, but also to the em- 
 phasis given to that doctrine by Luther and 
 Calvin, and other prominent fathers of the Pro- 
 testant Church. As the Jews in St Paul's time 
 believed in the saving power of the ceremonial 
 law, so Christians in the age of the Eeformers 
 had been seduced, by the teaching of the priest- 
 hood, to adopt the opinion that certain works, 
 principally of an external and irrational kind, 
 performed in obedience to Church authority, 
 might be substituted for the application of the 
 moral law to all the relations and details of life." 
 Thus individual acts of real or imaginary virtue 
 were divorced from that spirit of confidence in 
 God which ought to inspire them, and religion 
 was made to consist in observances which had 
 
The Function of Faith. 367 
 
 no vital connectioji with a noble life or a 
 manly character. It is the function of faith to 
 stimulate us, not to isolated acts of spasmodic 
 and intermittent virtue, but to a steady and 
 consistent course of lifelong welldoing. In this 
 very epistle to the Eomans, the apostle shows 
 that, so far from excluding works, Christian faith, 
 if it be genuine, leads to a much higher type of 
 righteousness, to a far better class of works, than 
 any which Judaism had been capable of producing. 
 What the law could not do, in that it was weak 
 through the flesh, is to be accomplished in us, 
 who have been taught by Christ to walk, not 
 after the flesh, but after the spirit. The teach- 
 ing of our text, then, we may take to be the 
 teaching of the entire New Testament, that faith 
 is confidence manifested by conduct. 
 
 At first this confidence may be but feeble. 
 After grappling in vain with some of the in- 
 soluble problems of existence, we are burdened 
 with a sense of failure. Till we began to use 
 our reason, we thought we knew everything, and 
 that the intellectual difficulties which troubled 
 others were capable of being easily dissipated. 
 But, after reflection, we discovered that we knew 
 scarcely anything, and that many of the difficul- 
 
368 Reason and Faith. 
 
 ties we had treated so slightingly were neverthe- 
 less insuperable. We can only say, in the words 
 of Tennyson — 
 
 " I falter where I firmly trod, 
 
 And falling with my weight of cares 
 
 Upon the world's great altar-stairs, 
 
 That slope through darkness up to God, 
 
 I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope. 
 
 And gather dust and chafiF, and call 
 
 To what I ful Is Lord of all. 
 
 And faintly trust the larger hope.'" 
 
 But our confidence will grow in proportion as 
 we act upon it, until at last it will become the 
 very substance of things hoped for. We shall 
 feel as certain that God will reward us ac- 
 cording to our works, as if we already had the 
 reward in our possession. In acting according 
 to the promptings of faith, we are animated by 
 the divine spirit, we are moved by the divine 
 will, we are living the divine life — it is, in fact, 
 no more we who live, but God who liveth in us. 
 Faith thus becomes in the end a proof of things 
 not seen, more certain even than the demon- 
 strations of reason. There may be a flaw in 
 arguments that appear quite cogent; but there 
 is no possibility of our mistaking our expeirience, 
 for that is what we feel it to be. Thus in time 
 we may rise from the lower levels of faith to 
 
The Function of Faith. 369 
 
 the higher, until we are able to say, in the later 
 words of the Laureate — 
 
 " Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet." 
 
 God grant that you and I, before we meet 
 again, may have made some progress in this 
 higher faith ! We must remember that the use 
 of reason, important though it be, is only a means 
 to an end. The purpose of reason is to lead 
 us to faith ; the purpose of faith is to prompt 
 us to conduct : and it is this conduct alone that 
 will enable us to say, in the emphatic language 
 of St Paul, " I Tznmo whom I have believed." 
 
 "For meek obedience, that is light — 
 And following that is iinding Him. " 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY WlLLI^Ukl BLACKWOOD AND SONS. 
 
WORKS BY PROFESSOR MOMERIE. 
 
 I. 
 
 PERSONALITY) 
 
 THE BEaiNNING AND END OF METAPHYSICS, 
 AND A NBCESSART ASSUMPTION IN ALL POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Third Edition, revised. Crown 8vo, 3s. 
 
 " This is a little book, but it contains more sound pMlosophy than many 
 
 pretentious treatises In an admirably lucid way the auttior scatters 
 
 to the winds the baseless assumptions of the sense philosophy."— £n(isft 
 Qua/rte^ly Beview. 
 
 " It ia not often that we have to complain of the brevity of a sermon or of 
 a treatise on philosophy ; but in the case of a little book of the latter kind, 
 recently published anonjnnously, we have found the arguments so cogent, 
 the style so clear, and the matter at issue so important, that we heartily wish 
 that ttie writer bad allowed himself room for the fuller treatment of his sub- 
 ject We confidently refer our readers to this well-reasoned volume."— 
 
 Modem Review. 
 
 " Professor Momerie'a remarks on the doctrines of the defenders of em- 
 piricism present a close, and thoroughly scientific, examination of the views 
 these thinkers put forth as to the nature of sensation, perception, and cog- 
 nition The arguments are throughout conducted with marked logical 
 
 power, and the conclusions are very important in relation to the present 
 aspect of philosophical thought in England," — Scotsmcm. 
 
 "The work under our notice will well repay the careful reading of those 
 who wish to have at their command plain answers to modern positivism."— 
 Ecclesiastical Gazette. 
 
 "His discussion of these questions stamps Dr Momerie as an acute meta- 
 physician, a philosophical scholar, and a powerful dialectician.*'— GZasgoKJ 
 Herald. 
 
 "When published anonymously received a very hearty welcome by all 
 who were interested in the advent of a new writer of great power, of happy 
 diction, and of independent thinking." — Montrose Standard. 
 
II. 
 
 the' origin of evil; 
 
 AND OTHER SERMONS. 
 
 Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 " Professor Momerie has done well to publish his sermons ; they are good 
 
 reading. A real contribution to the side of common-sense religion."— 
 
 ^Saturday Review. 
 
 "We decidedly recommend them to persons perplexed by the speculations 
 of modem science."— Speofator. 
 
 " This ia a remaikable volume of sermons. Though it consists of only 
 about 300 pages, it contains an amount of thought and learning which might 
 have been expanded into a bulky folio." — Glasgow Mail. 
 
 *' These sermons are some of the very best produced in this country within 
 the last hundred years." — Inqui/rer. 
 
 " The author is an original thinker, whose sympathies are very wide." — 
 Gva/riMan, 
 
 " Those who preach may learn much from their perusal."— CTirisiitm World. 
 
 '* Out of the common run, they give one a refreshing sense of novelty and 
 power." — Olasgoii! BeraM. 
 
 " Die Vortrage zeigen allenthalben eine schone Harmonic zwischen Schrift- 
 wahrheit und Lebenswahrheit." — Deutsches Litteratwrblatt. 
 
 " Der Verfasser behandelt in diesen Vortragen wichtige Fragen aus dem 
 Gebiet des christlichen Lebens. Wir heben besonders die tiber das Leiden 
 hervor, in denen der Verfasser tiefe beherzigenswerthe Gedanken ausspricht. 
 AVir nehmen keinen Anstand, diese Vortrage zum Besten zu rechnen, was 
 iiber diesen Gegenstand gesagt worden."— Cftmtiic/ies Buohersehatz. 
 
 " The author of the ' Origin of Evil ' will go sadly astray if he does not 
 make his mark on the Age."— London Figaro. 
 
 "We should almost like to have heard these sermons preached. We are 
 willing to read them carefully, and recommend them to others for like read- 
 ing, even though, in almost every instance, we dissent from the author's 
 pleading."— JfoMonai Reformer. 
 
 " These sermons are everything that sermons ought riot to Toe."— English 
 Independent. 
 
III. 
 DEFECTS OF MODERN CHRISTIANITY J 
 
 AND OTHER SERMONS. 
 Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 58. 
 
 " Througliout Mr Momerie's attractive little volume the morning air of the 
 new world breathes through the dry leaves of the old theology." — West- 
 minst&r Heview. ^ 
 
 " There is an intellectuality, spirituality, and a simplicity in Mr Momerie's 
 sermons, that should make them models for young preachers."— CArisMoji 
 Union, 
 
 " Professor Momeiie, by his former books, has already laid the foundation 
 of a reputation as a philosophical thinker and an able expositor of religious 
 sulgects. The present volume is marked by equal ability, intellectual force, 
 independent and original thinking, and will confirm the favourable opinion 
 
 which he has already produced Whatever views readers may detect as 
 
 different from their own, they will not fail to admire the author's powerful 
 
 enforcement of the practical side of Christianity There follows, as the 
 
 second part of the volume, nine lectures on the Book of Job ; and we have 
 not read before, within the same compass, a more masterly and interesting 
 
 exposition of that great poem There are also three admirable sermons 
 
 on • The Connection between Reason and Faith,' which will repay, repeated 
 
 reading The volume deserves to be widely read ; and whether readers 
 
 agree or not in all respects with the author, they will not rise from the 
 perusal without feeling that Christianity is something grander than they 
 have ordinarily realised it to be, and that the Christian life is the bravest 
 and most beautiful life possible," — Aberdeen J(mmal. 
 
 "Very fresh and striking."— Gto6e. 
 
 "Although he is a polished and accomplished scholar, he simply defies 
 the conventionalities of churches and sahoo\s."— Literary World. 
 
rv. 
 THE BASIS OF RELIGION} 
 
 BEING AN EXAMINATION OP 'NATURAL RELIGION.' 
 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 " As a controversialist. Professor Momerie is no less candid than he is 
 remorselessly severe." — SootsTium. 
 
 " As a revelation of the pretentionsness of that philosophy [Positivism] 
 Dr Momerie's powerful essay is very valuable." — Fifeshire Jowmal. 
 
 " The result of profound study and earnest thought This attempt to 
 
 sketch out a basis for rational theology is fitted to the needs of the times, 
 
 Professor Momerie has won for himself a name as one of the most 
 
 powerful and original thinkers of the day." — Glole. 
 
 " Professor Momerie has wide views of men and things, resembling in this 
 quality the author of ' Bcce Homo ' himself, and he has attacked from the 
 Cambridge University pulpit the book ' Natural Eeligion,' accusing it of 
 considerable vagueness of conception and of considerable misconception of 
 critical points of its own argument. The present book presents the sub- 
 stance of these sermons in the form of a brief essay We would recom- 
 mend our readers to see for themselves how those confusions of thought, 
 by which the school of writers — of whom the author of ' Natural Religion ' 
 is an eminent representative — seek to save religion when supematuralism 
 has disappeared, are exposed. We are certain they will be charmed with the 
 accurate philosophical thinking of Professor Momerie, with his unpretentious 
 display of keen logical reasoning, conveyed in lucid and forcible language, 
 which arrays and adorns it like a well-fltting garment"— ^sMoIe Advertiser. 
 
 " Greater force is given to this essay, since the author is himself an ad- 
 vanced thinter."— CArisfioji Union. 
 
V. 
 
 AGNOSTICISM. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 " To readei^ wlio do not demand tbat ' the scheme of salvation in its ful- 
 ness * should be enunciated in eveiy sermon, this volume, which is happily 
 free from rhetoric, and for the most part from any ostentation of the reading 
 which it indicates, will be interesting from its acuteness, lemoning, and in- 
 sight."— Sahtrday Review. 
 
 " This is a really good book. It is profound in thought, large and com- 
 prehensive in view, liberal in spirit, and delightfully clear and simple in 
 style. We wish that theologians and philosophers in general would write in 
 
 Professor Momerie's manner Following the chapters on Agnosticism, 
 
 there are ten other chapters on the book of Ecclesiastes. They form an ad- 
 mirable and scholarly analysis of that strange and melancholy book.'* — TJie 
 IiiquiTer. 
 
 ""We are thankful for so masterly, so comprehensive, and so complete a 
 vindication of the principles of Christian Theism, with its powerful refuta- 
 tion of the main positions of ^Agnosticism. The book meets a real and wide- 
 spread need, in a style as trenchant and effective as it is popular."— jPVecma?!. 
 
 " Dr Momerie's breadth of intellect and sympathy, his clear thinking and 
 well-chastened style, as well as his deep religiousness, which will, no doubt, 
 after a time assume a more positively evangelical form, eminently adapt 
 him to be a teacher to his generation. He has freed himself, by we know 
 not what process, from many of the prejudices of the older schools ; but he 
 can search into the very soul of unbelieving sophistry, and the spirit of his 
 exhortation is always ennobling and heavenward."— JifefAot^ist Times. 
 
 *' It is long since we have met with a volume of sermons which will so well 
 repay a carefal stadj."— Ecclesiastical Gazette. 
 
 " The work of a mtyestic intellect"— J^V^sAu'e Jtyumal. 
 
VI. 
 
 PREACHING AND HEARING^ 
 
 AND OTHER SERMONS. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d. 
 
 " The author, himself one of the most eloquent preachers of the day, is 
 eminently qualified to do justice to his subject. He has brought to it an 
 experience and scholarly proficiency which few men could have done."— 
 ChrisUaii Union. 
 
 "For such preaching as this, and for all the ample learning and wise 
 thought by which it is fortified, the Church of God has every reason to be 
 thankful."— iiterary World. 
 
 " Marked by all the force, aouteness, and eloquence which we have learnt 
 to expect from him, and in addition by a knowledge of men and manners 
 
 not generally associated with philosophical research His literary style 
 
 is another proof, if proof were needed, of the vast resources of the simple 
 Anglo-Saxon." — FyesMre Journal, 
 
 " His sermons are unlike any sermons we can call to mind."— GwjrdioM. 
 
 "If such sermons were often to be heard from the pulpit, preachers would 
 not have to complain of empty pews or inattentive listeners." — Bock. 
 
 " Their delivery was quite startling."— Swtwwea JoumaZ. 
 
 " Those who would know what pulpit boldness in the present day really 
 means should make these sermons their abxiy."— Christian World. 
 
 " The present volume is more directly popular in style, and amply main- 
 tains the reputation of the writer." — Inqwi/rer. 
 
VII. 
 
 BELIEF IN GOD. 
 
 Crown 8vo, 3s. 
 
 " One of tlie most brilliant arguments for the Divine existence." -Chris- 
 tian World. 
 
 " In some respects Professor Momerie ia the ablest preacher of his day. 
 
 He is ever endeavouring to present recondite problems in the simplest, 
 
 clearest language, and in this he is eminently successftil It is not too 
 
 abstruse even for mere smatterers in philosophical discussion. Considering 
 its scope, it is indeed astonishingly lucid." — Dwndee Advertiser. 
 
 " No preacher need be ashamed to face the most scientific sceptic with this 
 little book in his hand." — Lit&ra/ry World. 
 
 •* From the time that Professor Momerie published anonymously the vol- 
 ume on ' Thp Origin of Evil,' his writings have been devoured with excep- 
 tional keenness by intell^ent readers. Many were the conjectures as to who 
 the author of that work was, but it was universally allowed that the anony- 
 mous writer was destined to leave his mark upon the mind of the country ; 
 he was a daring and fresh thinker, and was possessed of rare unravelling 
 
 power. This little volume bears the impress of his majestic intellect 
 
 It is a model of lucid style, clear and consecutive reasoning, fairness to an 
 honourable opponent, and humility in victory. "—Perthshire Advertiser. 
 
 " ' Belief in God ' was originally written for the * Helps to Belief ' Series, 
 but the editor, thinking it too abstruse, recommended considerable altera- 
 tions. We are devoutly thankful the gifted Professor refused to mutilate his 
 work, and withdrew it from the series." — Noncov/ormist. 
 
 " His criticism of Herbert Spencer's theory of the Unknowable is very 
 axiMte."— Glasgow Heralds 
 
 "It is spread out into only eighty pages, but those eighty pages contain 
 more material for thought than many another volume or series of volumes 
 contain in eight hundred." — Inquirer. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, Bdinbuegh ahd London. 
 
IN ONE VOLUME. THE LIBRARY EDITION OF 
 
 STOEMONTH'S DICTIONARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 
 
 PRONOUNCING, ETYMOLOGICAL, AND EXPLANATORY. 
 
 Embracing Scientific and other Terms, numerous Familiar T»rms, and 
 a Copious Selection of Old English "Words. To which are appended 
 Lists of Scripture and other Proper Names, Abbreviations, and Foreign 
 Words and Phrases. 
 
 By the Rev. JAMES STORMONTH. 
 
 The PEONtriioiATiON carefuBy revised by the Rev. P. H. PHELP, M.A. Cantab. 
 Royal 8to, handsomdy bound in half-mm-ocm, 31s. &d. 
 
 Opinions of the British and American Press. 
 
 Grimes.— "This may serve in great measure the purposes of an English cyclo- 
 pedia. It gives lucid and succinct definitions of the technical terms in 
 science and axt, in law and medicine. We have the explanation of words 
 and phrases that puzzle most people, showing wonderfully comprehensive 
 and out-of-the-way research. . . . We need only add, that the dictionary 
 appears in all its departments to have been brought down to meet the 
 latest demands of the day, and that it is admirably printed." 
 
 iPall ISitM. ©ajCttC. — " The pronunciation of every word is given, the sym- 
 bols employed for marking tho sounds being commendably cle'ar. . . . 
 After the pronunciation comes the etymology. It has, we think, been 
 well managed here. And the matter is, on the whole, as judiciously 
 chosen as it is skilfully compressed and arranged." 
 
 Scotsman. — " There can be no question that the work when completed will form 
 one of the best and most serviceable works of reference of its class. . . . 
 It is admirably adapted to meet the requirements of every ordinary reader, 
 and there are few occasions of special reference to which it will not be 
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 and clearness of the printing. " 
 
PHILOSOPHICAL CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS 
 
 Edited by WILLIAM KNIGHT, LL.D., 
 
 Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of St Andrews. 
 In crown 8vo Volumes, with Portraits, price 33. 6d. 
 
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 4. Fiehte. By Professor Adamson, Owens College, Manchester. 
 
 5. Kant. By Professor Wallace, Oxford. 
 
 6. Hamilton. By Professor Veitch, Glasgow. 
 
 7- Hegel. By Professor Edward Caibd, Glasgow. 
 
 8. Leibniz. By J. Theodore Merz. 
 
 9- Vieo. By Professor Flint, Edinburgh. 
 
 10. Hobbes. By Professor Groom Robertson, London. 
 
 11. Hume. By the Editor. 
 
 Spinoza. 
 
 Caird, Glasgow, 
 
 In preparation— 
 By the Very Rev. Principal | b^uok 
 
 llmmediately. 
 
 By Professor Nichol, Glasgow. 
 
 FOREIGN CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS. 
 
 Edited bt Mrs OLIPHANT. 
 
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 Goethe. By A. Hay ward, Q C. 
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CATALOGUE 
 
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