^ PRINCETON, N. J.
BV 4 2 5.^ .: r, , 1885 v. 4
Cox, Samuel, 1826-1893.
Exposi t ions
..
Shelf
EXPOSITOR V D/S CO UR SES.
BV THE SAME AUTHOR.
THE BIRD'S NEST,
And other Sermons for Children of all Ages.
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T. FISHER UNWIN, 26, Paternoster Square, E.G.
EXPOSITIONS
REV. SAMUEL "^OX, D.D. (st. andrews)
AUTHOR OF
VOLUME IV
gottbon
T . FISHER U N W I N
26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
MDCCCLXXXVIU
TO THE MEMORY
OF
THOMAS TOKE LYNCH,
TEACHER, POET, FRIEND:
TO WHOM I OWE MUCH,
AND NOT I ALONE,
BUT THE WHOLE CHURCH OF GOD.
PREFACE
Tins, I think, must be the biographical volume of the
Series. So many of my critics have expressed a pre-
ference for those discourses which deal with character,
and especially with the obscure characters of Holy
Writ, that, in deference to their judgment, I have in-
cluded in the present Volume an unusual number of
that kind. And so many clergymen have written to
tell me that they use my sermons in their pulpits, and
find that those which are complete in themselves best
serve their turn, that I have excluded a long series
which I had prepared, and have replaced it with dis-
courses more suitable for their purpose. For there is
no man, I suppose, who holds the truths we all teach
with strong conviction, but would gladly preach them
from a thousand pulpits, if he could. And as I myself
must cease to preach shortly after this Volume appears,
I am naturally the more willing to speak by other lips
than my own.
This must also, I am afraid, be the last volume of the
PREFACE.
Series. I never intended it to run to more than six or
seven volumes ; but I frankly confessed in the preface
to Volume I. that I could not " afford to publish books
which do not sell," and as my publisher informs me that
he is still "out of pocket" by the adventure, I must
perforce discontinue the Series a little earlier than I
had intended.
One of my kindest and most sympathetic reviewers
commences his notice of Volume III. with the sentence :
" To large numbers of the most intelligent students of
Scripture it would be a sore disappointment if they did
not receive at least one volume every year from the pen
of this distinguished expositor." But I fear that the
number of such students cannot be very large, or that
they do not care for or cannot purchase one volume
from my pen every year. And, perhaps, as those who
do buy them, and are likely therefore to read this Pre-
face, must have a friendly appreciation of my work, I
may be permitted to take a more personal tone than
would otherwise be becoming, and to add that I by no
means intend to cease from that work. The impaired
condition of my health compels me to give up preaching,
but it in no way affects my power of writing. And since
as long as I live, and retain my power, I must in some
way serve the Master whose service has been a joy and
an exceeding great reward to me for more than forty
years, I hope that I may still be permitted to serve Him
PREFACE.
with my pen, and that He will make the way, now a
little obscure, plain before me.
If I may maintain this personal tone a moment longer,
I should like, since life and opportunities are so uncer-
tain, to say a word or two of grateful recognition to my
unknown reviewers. No author, surely, was ever more
generously handled. Certainly I can remember no
Nonconformist author who has received such kindly
and generous appreciation from the organs of the
Established Church, or from writers in many leading
papers and magazines which do not ordinarily notice
Biblical and theological books. And as I have lived a
quiet and retired life, far from London, am a member of
no literary club or clique, and have never had it in my
power to make any return for the service they have
done me, I take their appreciation of my work, which
has often outrun its deserts, as a disproof of the selfish
and sordid motives often attributed to critics and re-
viewers. Lest I should not have another chance, and
because I can no longer be suspected of the gratitude
which consists mainly of a keen sense of favours to
come, I take this opportunity of assuring them that
their kindly appreciation and allowance have not fallen
on an ungrateful soil. Their sympathy and goodwill
have been a constant encouragement and support.
February, 1888.
CONTENTS.
I.
SIMEON.
I, THE SONG.
PAGE
Luke ii. 29-32. — "Now lettest thou thy servant depart, O
Lord, according to thy word, in peace ; for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before
the face of all peoples ; a light to lighten the Gentiles,
and the glory of thy people Israel" i
II.
SIMEON.
II. THE PREDICTION.
Luke ii. 34, 35. — " Behold, this child is set for the falling and
the rising up of many in Israel ; and for a sign to be
spoken against : yea, and a sword shall pierce through
thine own soul ; that thoughts out of many hearts may be
revealed " ......... 16
III.
THE REDEMITION OF THE REDEEMER.
Luke ii. 22-24. — "And when the days of their purification
according to the law of Moses were fulfilled, they brought
him up to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord (as it is
written in the law of the Lord, Every male that openeth
the womb shall be called holy to the Lord), and to offer a
sacrifice according to that which is said in the law of the
Lord, A pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons" . . 30
CONTENTS.
GOD IS LOVE.
PAGE
Isaiah liv. 6-13. — "The Lord hath recalled thee as a woman
forsaken and grieved in spirit, and as a wife of youth who
hath been despised, saith thy God. For a small moment
did I cast thee out, but with great compassion will I
gather thee. In a sudden flush of wrath I hid my face
from thee, but with everlasting kindness will I have com-
passion on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer. For it is
now with me as at the flood of Noah ; whereas I swore
that the flood of Noah should no more sweep over the
earth, so I swear that I will not be wroth with thee, nor
rebuke thee. For though the mountains should remove,
and the hills should quake, my loving-kindness for thee
shall not remove, neither shall my covenant of peace
quake, saith the Lord that hath compassion on thee. O
thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, not comforted, behold
I will set thy stones in antimony, and lay thy foundation
with sapphires ; and I will make thy battlements of rubies,
and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy boundaries of
precious stones. And all thy children shall be taught of
the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children" . 44
V.
PRAYER AND PROMISE.
Matthe7V vii. 8. — " For everyone that asketh receiveth ; and
he that seeketh findeth ; and to him that knocketh it
shall be opened " 60
VI.
WISDOM, WHENCE SHALL SHE BE aOTTEN ?
James i. 5. — " If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,
who giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and
it shall be given him " 71
CONTENTS.
THE CHRISTIAN COMMAXDMKXTS.
PAGS
Matthew xxii. 35-40.— "Then one of them, a lawyer, put a
question to test him : Master, what is the best com-
mandment in the law ? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt
love the Lord thy God in the whole of thy heart, and in
the whole of thy soul, and in the whole of thy mind.
This is the best and first commandment. Rut there is a
second like it ; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
In these two commandments the whole law hangs, and
the prophets " 88
VIII.
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
Revelation xiv. 6, 7. — "And I saw another angel flying in mid-
heaven, having an eternal gospel to proclaim to them that
dwell on the earth, and unto every nation and tribe and
tongue and people ; and he saith with a great voice, Fear
God, and give him glory ; for the hour of his judgment is
come : and worship him that made the heaven and the
earth, and sea and fountains of waters " . . . . 105
IX.
THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
I. BE CLEAN !
Mark i. 40-42. — " And there cometh to him a leper, beseeching
him, and kneeling down to him, and saying unto him, If
thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. And being moved
with compassion, he stretched forth his hand, and touched
him, and saith unto him, I will, be thou made clean.
And straightway the leprosy departed from him, and he
was made clean " 119
CONTENTS.
X.
THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
II. BE SILENT.
PAGE
Mark i. 43-45. — " And he strictly charged him, and straightway
sent him out, and saith unto him, See thou say nothing to
any man : but go thy way, shew thyself to the priest,
and offer for thy cleansing the things which Moses com-
manded for a testimony unto them. But he went out, and
began to publish it much, and to blaze abroad the matter,
insomuch that Jesus could no more openly enter into a
city, but was without in desert places " . . . .133
XI.
THE LESSONS OF THE ORANGE-TREE.
Proverbs xxv. 11. — " A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold
in baskets of silver" 149
XII.
THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
1 1. THE FUNCTION OF EVIL.
John ix. 1-3. — "And as he passed by he saw a man blind
from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying,
Rabbi, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he
should be born blind 1 Jesus answered, Neither did this
man sin, nor his parents ; but that the works of God
should be made manifest in him " 163
XIII.
THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
II. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
John ix. 4, 5. — " I must work the works of him that sent me
while it is day ; the night cometh when no man can work.
As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world 179
CONTENTS.
XIV.
THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
III. THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN.
PACK
Johtt ix. 6, 7. — "When he had thus spoken, he spat on the
ground, and made clay of the spittle, and anointed the
eyes of the blind man with the clay, and said unto him.
Go, wash in the pool of Siloam (which is by interpretation,
Sent). He went his way, therefore, and washed, and came
seeing" 194
XV.
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE A WARRANT OF
IMMORTALITY.
Matthew XK. 15. — " Is it not lawful for me to do what I will
with mine own ; or is thine eye evil because I am good?" 208
XVI.
JESUS THE JUST.
Colossians '\w . \\ . — "And Jesus who is called Justus " . .223
XVII.
DEMETRIUS.
iii. John 12. — " Demetrius hath the witness of all men, and of
the truth itself ; yea, and we also bear witness " . . 239
XVIII.
DIOTREPHES.
iii. John 9, 10. — " I wrote somewhat unto the church : but
Diotrephes, who loveth to have the pre-eminence among
them, receiveth us not. Therefore, if I come, I will bring
to remembrance his deeds which he doeth, prating against
us with wicked words ; and not content therewith, neither
doth he himself receive the brethren, and them that would
he forbiddeth and casteth out of the church " . . . 255
CONTENTS.
XIX.
GAIUS.
FACE
m. John 3. — '* I rejoiced greatly when brethren came and bare
witness unto thy truth, even as thou walkest in truth " . 268
XX.
LOT'S WIFE.
Luke xvii. 32. — " Remember Lot's wife " . . , . 280
XXI.
THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL.
Luke xvii. 33. — " Whosoever shall seek to gain his life shall
lose it; but whosoever shall lose shall preserve it" . . 294
XXII.
DIVINE GUESTS.
John xiv. 23. — "Jesus answered and said unto him : If a man
love me, he will keep my word ; and my Father will love
him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode
with him " 308
XXIII.
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
Luke xxii. 7-13. — "And the day of unleavened bread came, on
which the passover must be sacrificed. And he sent Peter •
and John, saying, Go and make ready for us the passover,
that we may eat. And they said unto him, Where wilt
thou that we make ready ? And he said unto them, Behold,
when ye are entered into the city, there shall meet you a
man bearing a pitcher of water ; follow him into the house
whereinto he goeth. And ye shall say unto the goodman
of the house, The Master saith unto thee, Where is the
guest-chamber, where I shall eat the passover with my
djsciples .'' And he will shew you a large upper room
furnished : there make ready. And they went, and found as
he had said unto them ; and they made ready the passover" 321
CONTENTS.
XXIV.
THE COMING DAWN.
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY.
Isaiah xxi. ii, 12.— " Watchman, what of the night? Watch-
man, what of the night ? The watchman saith, The
morning cometh, and also the night."
Romans \\\\. 12.— " The night is far spent, and the day is at
hand" 33^
XXV.
THE BENEDICTION.
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR.
2 Thcssalonians iii. 18.— "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ
be with you ail" . 348
XXVI.
THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY.
Matthew xxvi. 53.—" Thinkest thou that I cannot ask my
Father, and he shall instantly send me more than twelve
legions of angels ? " 362
XXVII.
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD.
I Thessalonians v. 21. — " Prove all things ; hold fast that which
is good" 375
XXVIII.
ABHOR THAT WHICH IS EVIL.
I Thcssalonians v. 22. — "Abstain from every form of evil " . 3S9
CONTENTS.
XXIX.
MOTIVES.
PAGE
Luke XV. 17, 18 ; 29, 30. — " How many hired servants of my
father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish
with hunger. I will arise and go to my father."
" Lo, these many years do I serve thee, never trans-
gressing any of thy commandments ; yet thou never gavest
me a kid that I might make merry with my friends ; but
when this thy son came, who hath devoured thy living
with harlots, thou killedst for him the fatted calf" . . 400
XXX.
A PARABLE 413
ERRATUM.
Substitute "Diotrephes" for " Diotrophes " in Sermons xvii.
xviii., and xix., throughout.
I.
SIMEON.
L— THE SONG.
" Now Icttest thou tliy servant depart, O Lord, according to thy
word, in peace ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou
hast prepared before the face of all peoples ; a light to lighten
the Gentiles, and the giorj^ of thy people Israel." — Luke ii. 29-32.
The song of Simeon, the Nunc Diinittis, has, in some
form, been adopted into the worship of the Christian
Church, througli all its branches, for many centuries.
lUit, familiar as we are with his tiny psalm, very few of
us, I apprehend, have made any thoughtful and sus-
tained attempt to conceive what the man himself was
like, and what were the principles and convictions by
which his life was shaped and fed. When we think of
him, we form no clear well-defined image ; he lias no
distinguishing qualities and features by which wc may
identify him and separate him from his neighbours. A
man of no mark or likelihood to his cotemporarics,
save that he wore " the white flower of a blameless life,"
2
SIMEON.
he is little more to us than he was to them. A venerable
good old man, who once in his life was so transported
out of and above himself as to sing a song which the
world will never let die, — this, I suppose, is the best,
the most definite, conception of him which most of us
have formed.
Yet the man is worth knowing for his own sake, and
not simply because he was brought into momentary con-
tact with the Holy Child, and may, I think, be known,
though it must be confessed that the epithets by which
St. Luke describes him do not help us much. Indeed,
by the very way in which he introduces him, the Evan-
gelist seems to warn us that it may be difficult for us to
identify and distinguish him. For he tacitly admits that
-Simeon was not a distinguished *man. He was only
a certain Simeon, a man in Jerusalem whose name
happened to be Simeon, or Simon, one of the com-
monest names in Israel. And though a wild attempt has
been made to identify this Simeon with Rabbi Simeon,
the son of Hillcl and the father of Gamaliel, it has
naturally failed ; for, although we know very little of
either of these two men, we know just enough of their
differences of age and religious position to be sure that
the old man who took the child Jesus in his arms could
not possibly have been the great rabbi of his day.
St. Luke docs, indeed, tell us that his Simeon was
" just and devout ; " and we know that (to use the
THE SONG.
words of Joscphus, when spc.ikiiig of a much more
(Ji.stini,^uished Simeon) " he was called yV/j-/ both for his
piety toward God and his charity toward his fellows ; "
and that he was called devout to denote that he feared
God, that his piety bore the stamp of humility in
opposition to the self-complacent self-righteousness of
the Pharisees.
Simeon, therefore, fulfilled the ideal of Hosea, which
Professor Huxley pronounces " the perfect ideal " of
religion : he did justly, he loved mercy, he walked
humbly with his God. And to know so much of any
man is, doubtless, to know a great deal of him, and
even to know what is best worth knowing. But it does
not mark him off from his fellows ; it does not define
and individualize him : for, happily, even in those formal
and degenerate days, there were many men who were
both just and devout. Joseph, Mary's husband, was "a
just man ;" Cornelius was a "devout man and one that
feared God," and even had "a devout soldier" to wait
upon him. And what we want is some individualizing
touch by which we may distinguish Simeon from Joseph
or Cornelius, or any other good man of his time.
We seem to be nearing our mark when we read that
he was "waiting for the Consolation of Israel;" for
these words imply not only that Simeon cherished that
common hope of all good Israelites, the coming of
the long-promised Messiah, but that he conceived of
SIMEON.
Messiah's advent on its more spiritual side — as a Con-
solatioji for all the sorrow and shame inflicted on them
for their sins, and as a redemption from their bondage
to sin. Yet there were many pious men in Israel who
yearned for Messiah's advent because they conceived of
Him, not as a great King who would give them the
victory over their foes, but, rather, as the strong and
tender Paraclete who would comfort them for all their
sorrows and save them from all their distresses — above
all, from the sorrow and distress which sprang from an
imperfect obedience, an imperfect conformity to the will
of God. " May I see the Consolation of Israel " was, in
fact, a common formula of aspiration among the religious
Jews.
Even the fact that Simeon was a prophet, that he had
received a Divine premonition of the Advent, and was
moved by a Divine impulse to come into the Temple
at the very moment when the Holy Child was presented
before the Lord — the very moment when the pure Son
of God was being purified, the Redeemer of men re-
deemed (Luke ii. 22-24), and the great High Priest
ransomed from the service of the Hebrew Priesthood ^
— even this notable fact does not differentiate him from
many of his fellows, though it does from mpst of them ;
for there were many prophets in the Hebrew, and many
more in the Christian, Church.
' See Discourse' on The Redemption of the Redeemer, page 30.
THE SONG. 5
Christian Icy^cnd, however, supph'cs a somewhat indi-
vidiuUizing, and not improbable,' touch ; for it affirms
that Simeon had stumbled at the words of Isaiah (vii.
I4\ " Behold a virgin shall conceive ;" and that it was
while he was harassed by the doubts which this pre-
diction bred in his mind he received the promise that
he should not die till he had seen it fulfilled : for there
is always something characteristic in a man's doubts,
provided of course that they are his oicn, and if they be
honest and sincere.
But if a man's doubts are characteristic, how much
more individualizing are his beliefs, the truths on which
he really rests and by which he really lives ? " As a
man thinketh in his heart, so is he." It is his concep-
tions of truth, the principles and convictions by which
he is animated, that differentiate him from his fellows,
and set him before us in his habits as he lived. If we
can only reach his ruling conceptions and beliefs, we
learn far more about him than from any descriptive
epithets applied to him.
Where, then, should we look to find the man Simeon
' Not improbable ; for from his own words it is obvious that the
ijreat Iiiniuimu'l prophecy of Isaiah was much in his mind. At
least three of his thoughts or phrases — a veiy large proportion —
are taken from this prophecy. That of the Light to lighten the
Cientilcs from Isaiah ix. 2 ; that of the Stone, or Rock, set for the
fall and rising of many, from Isaiah viii. 14, 15 : and that of the
Signal for Contradiction from Isaiah vii. 14, the very Verse in
which the prediction that a Virgin should conceive is found.
SIMEON.
if not in the Song with which he greeted the Lord's
Christ, and in which his habitual convictions, beHefs,
hopes, rose to their highest and frankest expression ?
Not in Luke's description of him, but in his own
unconscious, and therefore more significant, disclosure
of himself, we may expect to discover what he was
really like, and to gain a conception of him which will
individualize him to us and make him a real and living
man.
If, then, we look at his Song at all carefully, we shall
find in it (i) a noble conception of Life ; (2) a noble
conception of Death ; and (3) a noble conception of
Salvation ; while from all three we may infer the nobility
of the heart which cherished them.
L We have a noble conception of Life. We often take
Simeon's words as if they were a prayer, and meant,
" Now let, or permit, thy servant depart : " whereas they
are really a thanksgiving ; " Now art thou letting thy
servant depart." Nor does even this rendering ade-
quately convey his meaning. We come much nearer to
it if we render : " N'ozu a7't thou relieving; or setting free,
thy slave, O master (literally, " O despot "), according to
thy tvord, in peace." In fact, Simeon regards himself as
a sentinel whom, by his word, or promise — " Thou shalt
not see death till thou hast seen the Lord's Christ" — the
Great Master, or Captain, had ordered to an elevated and
dangerous post, and charged to look for and announce
THE SONG.
the advent of a great light of hope, a h'ght which was to
convey glad tidings of great joy. The opening scene of
the Agamemnon of ^schylus discloses, as some of you
will remember, a Watchman who for nine long years had
been looking for the kindling of the beacon, the " blazing
torch," the " bright sign," the " blest fire," which should
announce the fall of Troy ; and who, when at last he
beholds the welcome signal, sings at once the victory of
Greece and his own discharge ; that he shall no longer
be chained like a dog, by the duty of his post, is well-
nigh as much to him as the general joy in which he
shares. And, in like manner, Simeon no sooner beholds
the Light rising on the distant horizon for which he has
waited so long, than he at once proclaims its advent,
with its glad message of triumph, and rejoices in his
own release from his prolonged and weary task.
To him, therefore, life, or at least his own life, shaped
itself as the task of a watchman, or a sentinel on duty
— who has to face rough weather and smooth as he
paces his weary beat, to confront the fears and hidden
perils of the darkness, in order that the camp he guards
may be secure ; but who is sustained, under the burden
of anxiety and weariness, by the hope of receiving a
signal, of seeing a light arise in the darkness, which will
not only release him from his post, but will also bring
the tidings, or the prediction, of a great and final vic-
tory. And that is a very noble, though by no means a
SIMEON.
perfect,- conception of human life. It is imperfect ; for life
is too large and complex to be fully rendered by any one
image. But, nevertheless, it is a noble conception, such
as any Stoic would have welcomed, such as any Christian
may welcome if only he illumine the sentinel's duty with
the sentinel's hope.
It is a conception, moreover, which may be very help-
ful to us in many of the conditions in which we are
placed. When life grows as weary and monotonous to
us, through the prolonged pressure of samely duties, as
to the watchman fixed to Agamemnon's roof or to a
dog chained to a post ; or when the zest of youth has
passed and the infirmities and disabilities of age, or
disease, accumulate upon us ; or when we are weighed
down with a burden of cares, anxieties, and fears, many
of which are gross and palpable enough, but to some of
which we can hardly give a name ; when flesh, or heart,
fail us, or both fail us, it surely would sustain and com-
fort us were we to remember that our post has been
appointed us by the great Captain who makes no mis-
take ; that the duties and the burdens allotted to us" have
an end of discipline and love, and are intended to make
us stronger, wiser, better ; and that, however long it may
delay its coming, a great Light is to arise upon us ; that
it is this for which we are watching and serving : and
that it will bring with it glad tidings of great joy for all
people as well as for us. Life grows very sacred and
THE SONG.
beautiful when we feel that vvc arc where wc arc, and
arc doing all wc do, and bearing all wc have to bear, by
God's will—" according to thy word ; " and arc moving,
through darkness, on our stedfast round, to proclaim
both that all is well, because all is going on under the
great Taskmaster's eye, and that all will be better still
so soon as we all learn to see in the Taskmaster our
Saviour and our Friend.
Simeon was by no means the first poet to whom this
conception of life commended itself A greater than he,
Job, had lit upon it centuries before, though to him it
had only been a wish instead of a ruling belief. In one
of his most hopeless moods he cries (Job xiv. 13-15) :
" If only, instead of this endless round of injustice and
misery, God would appoint me a set time, and then
remember me, all the days of that hard term would I
wait, till my discharge came, standing to my post on
earth with immovable and uncomplaining fidelity till I
fell at it, and even standing at it again in Hades till that
joyful day arrived, and the light shone down into my
darkness." What Job longed for, we have. We know
that a day ivill come on which God will call for us, and
we shall answer Him. Nay, we know that the Light,
which is the Life of men, has risen on our darkness,
that it is shining, and that in due time it will illuminate
the whole earth. Let us go on our rounds, then, all
our appointed term, in faith, and patience, and hope ;
SIMEON.
assured that all is well with the world because God is in
heaven, and because He is bringing heaven down to
earth.
II. In Simeon's Song we have a noble conception of
Death. He was not to die till he had seen the Lord's
Christ. But now that he has seen the Christ, he is in
haste to be gone ; for, to him, death is the relief of the
sentinel from an arduous and perilous post ; it is the
enfranchisement of a slave into freedom and peace :
" Now art thou setting free thy slave, O master, iji peace,
according to thy word ; " for, in his view, the sentinel
was also a slave, and the discharge of the sentinel was
also the manumission of the slave.
Relief from toil, relief from danger, relief from bond-
age — can any conception of death be more welcome
and attractive to weary, worldworn, sinful men ,-' Only
one thing could render it more attractive and complete,
and this we, who have the mind of Christ, are bound to
supply : vi.':., that our relief from toil will not be an
exemption from work, but an added capacity for labour
which will take all toil and weariness out of it ; that
our relief from danger will not release us from that
strife against evil in which even the holy angels arc
engaged, but will bring us an immortal strength and
serenity in virtue of which we shall carry on the conflict
without fear, and cherish the sure and certain hope that
evil must in the end be overcome of good : and that our
THE SONG.
relief from bondage will not be a discharge from ser-
vice, but will bring us a vigour and a grace which will
make our service our delight, since henceforth we shall
serve as sons and not as slaves.
An enfranchisement into freedom and into peace, this
was Simeon's conception of death, and should be ours
if, like hiin, we have seen the Lord's Christ. And if
we thus conceive it; if we know and believe that Death
will strike off the fetters of our imperfection, and give
us a freedom, and an inward tranquility and harmony of
nature, which will enable us to serve God and our fellows
without weariness, and to take our part in the eternal
strife with evil without any fear or doubt of its final
issue, why should we dread to die ? If Simeon could
leave the world without regret, in part because he be-
lieved that all would go well with a world into which
Christ had come, and in part because a still brighter
prospect, the prospect of an immediate freedom and an
immediate peace, awaited ////;/ in the world to which he
went, we surely, if we share his convictions, may be
content to follow him when our turn shall come, and
greet the kindly angel of death with the words, " Lord,
now art thou setting free thy servant, in peace, according
to thy word."
III. We have a noble conception of Salvation. Simeon
was content to go because his eyes had seen the salva-
tion of God. And he conceived of this salvation as a
SIMEON.
salvation prepared before "the face of all peopleSy^ all
races ; as a light which was to lift the veil of darkness,
or ignorance, from the eyes of the Gentiles, as well as
to shed a new glory on the humiliated and enslaved
sons of Israel. And this conquest of darkness by light,
this overcoming of evil with good, which was to be for
all men and upon all, was surely a very large and noble
conception of Salvation.
We commonly attribute a narrow and exclusive
spirit to the Jews, and think of them as men who,
because they were elected to convey a blessing to all
the families of the earth, deemed themselves the
favourites of Heaven, and despised all who were outside
the pale of God's covenant with the seed of Abraham.
And, no doubt, the ordinary Jew ivas of this haughty
and intolerant temper ; but he was so in the teeth of
all the highest teaching vouchsafed him. For with one
consent the Psalmists and Prophets of Israel held
Jehovah to be the Father of the spirits of all flesh, who
looked with equal affection on all his children, and
had elected one member of the great human family
to special privilege only for the sake of the rest, only
that through the chosen seed his truth and grace might
be revealed and demonstrated to all : — as, indeed, we
are beginning to discover now that, in our Revised
Version of the Old Testament, " all peoples " or " all
nations," has been substituted for the familiar but
THE SONG. 13
ambiguous phrase " all people." People might mean,
and was often taken to mean no more than the people
of Israel ; but " peoples " must include all kindreds and
tribes and tongues.
Simeon does but shew the true prophetic, i.e., the
true catholic, spirit when he conceives of the salvation
of God as extending to the Gentile as well as the Jew,
and delights in a Mercy as wide as the world. And
we fall short of that spirit, we sin against the revelation
of the Old Testament no less than that of the New,
so often as we affect any special personal interest in
the fatherly love and compassion of God, or even when
we conceive of his salvation as confined to the Church.
The Church has been elected, as the Jewish race was
elected, solely for the sake of the world, solely that it
may carry the news and the power of salvation to those
who are outside its pale. If we have seen the Light,
it is that we may bear witness to the Light ; that we
may announce its rising, reflect its splendour, and
believe that it will shine on till the darkness is past
and every shadow has fled away. If we are sentinels,
it is that we may guard and save the whole camp, and
not simply our own company or our own regiment.
These, then, were the principles and convictions by
which Simeon was animated ; and they throw no little
light on his character ; they distinguish him from, they
raise him above, most of his neighbours. If we are
SIMEON.
now asked to describe or define him, we may say, he
was a man who thought of Hfe as a hard round of
dut}', cheered by a great hope ; who thought of death
as a discharge from that duty which would raise him
from a slave into a son, and replace bondage and fear
and toil with freedom and peace ; who thought of the
divine salvation as an inward illumination, a triumph
of good over evil, co-extensive with the human race.
And he was true to his principles and convictions. As
he thought in his heart, so he was, so he did. For
many weary years he walked his little round of Jewish
commandments and ordinances blameless, always wait-
ing however, and always on the watch, for the rising of
that Sun whose rising was to be the signal for the entire
army to awake and advance. And when the signal
came, which meant life to the world but death to him,
he did not shrink from death, but hastened toward it
and greeted it with the joy of a sentinel relieved from
his post, of a slave emancipated into a tranquil freedom.
Before he saw death he saw the Lord's Christ, and he
rejoiced in "that great birth of time," not simply be-
cause it brought deliverance to him, nor simply because
it would console and glorify Israel, but also and mainly
because it was the pledge of salvation for the whole world.
In fine, he was true to his whole creed. And I do
not see how we can doubt that, if we were true to it, it
would lend a certain nobility and distinction to our
THE SONG. 1 5
characters and lives which as yet they sorely lack. And
we are bound to be true to it ; for his creed is our creed.
We too profess to regard life as a term of duty, during
which we are under stringent discipline, and have to
pay sharply and heavily for every dereliction from that
duty, but arc cheered and sustained by a great hope,
for the fulfilment of which we wait with courage and
with patience. Yet how often do we fail in our duty !
how faintly do we trust this large hope ! We too profess
to believe that death will be a release, an enfranchise-
ment into an ampler, freer, more tranquil life : and yet
when death draws nigh, whether to us or to those whom
we love, how often we shrink back from it in dread,
or submit to it as to a miserable necessity for which
nothing can console us ! We too profess to believe that
Christ is the Saviour of all men, and to rejoice in the
wide sweep of his redeeming influence : and yet which
of us does not think far more of his own salvation, or of
that of the community to which he is attached, and feel
far more sure of it, than of the salvation of the world ?
Which of us is as true to our convictions as Simeon
was to his ? It is because we are not so true that our
life is so much less dutiful, and so much less hopeful,
than it should be, and that death is often a terror to us,
and that the salvation of Christ takes so little effect
upon us. Let our prayer, then, be : " Lord, we believe,
but help, O help, our unbelief. Make us true to our
convictions, and faithful to our hopes."
IT.
SIMEON.
II.— THE PREDICTION.
" Behold, this child is set for the falling and the rising up of
many in Israel ; and for a sign to be spoken against : yea, and a
sword shall pierce through thine own soul ; that thoughts out of
many hearts may be revealed."— Luke ii. 34, 35.
We have considered the Song of Simeon ; we are now
to consider his Prediction. In his Song we found a
noble conception of life, a noble conception of death,
and a noble conception of the salvation of God. He
thought of life as a term of hard and perilous duty, like
that of a sentinel going his rounds, but as cheered by
the hope of receiving a signal which would announce
the hour of dawn and of victory. He thought of death
as the relief of a sentinel from his post, as the manu-
mission of a slave into freedom and peace ; as a release,
therefore, from toil and danger and bondage. And he
thought of the Divine salvation as an universal salva-
tion, as extending to all men, as a light to lighten the
Gentiles, and the consolation and glory of Israel.
THE PREDICTION. 17
There was, therefore, an clement of prediction in his
very Song, and a very valuable clement, as we shall
soon discover. If he saw what the Advent meant, he
also foresaw "the end of the Lord," the final goal of
good to which the mission of Christ was to round. And,
in large measure, his prediction has already been ful-
filled, though a still larger fulfilment awaits it. The
Light has lightened the Gentiles ; we owe Christendom
to it and the Christian civilization. It has proved the
glory of Israel : for but for the advent ot Christ, but for
the work which lie began and his disciples have carried
on, Judaism might have sunk, at the fall of Jerusalem,
into an obscure and narrow sect, and the Old Testament
Scriptures might have been as little to the modern as
they were to the ancient world. In short, we owe the
Bible, and all that the Bible has brought us, to the
coming of Christ into the world. If He had not come
there could of course have been no New Testament.
If He had not come, in all probability the Old Testa-
ment would have been no more to us than the sacred
books of any other race ; perhaps not so much as the
writings of the Classical philosophers and poets, or the
legends of our own Norse, Celtic, and German fore-
fathers.
Simeon foresaw and foretold, then, the large ultimate
results of the advent of Christ ; but he also foresaw and
foretold its nearer, its more immediate, results ; and
3
SIMEON.
these results are the theme of what we call his Predic-
tion to distinguish it from his Psalm. This Child, he
says, who is to be the Light of the Gentiles and the
Glory of Israel, is also to be as a Rock over which
many will fall and on which many will rise, a Signal for
strife and gainsaying, a Sword piercing and dividing tl e
very soul, even where the soul is purest, and a Touch-
stone revealing the inward thoughts of many hearts and
shewing how evil they are. Nor, large as the contradic-
tion looks between these two conceptions of the im-
mediate and the ultimate results of Christ's influence
on the world, is there any real contradiction between
them. For if the Light is to shine into a dark world,
or a dark heart, it must struggle with and disperse the
darkness before it can shed order and fruitfulness and
gladness into it. In such a world as this there can
be no victory without conflict, no achievement without
strenuous effort, no joy without pain, no perfection
except through suffering.
And, indeed, had Simeon left us nothing but a pre-
diction of light and glory as the consequence of Christ's
coming, had he 7iot foretold the doubts it would quicken,
the pain it would involve, the evil and imperfection it
would disclose, the opposition it would excite, we might
well have distrusted him and have lost the hope with
which his words inspire us. For as yet we see no uni-
versal light and glory, whether in the world around us
THE PREDICTION. 19
or in our own hearts. But \vc do sec a darkness which
struggles against the light ; we do see the opposition
of gainsayers ; we are conscious of many doubts, mis-
givings, imperfections, of much which even in the best
of us sets itself against the truth and grace of Christ
Had Simeon passed by all these, and spoken of nothing
but a Light which would irradiate and glorify all the
sons of men, our own experience would have rendered
his prediction dubious or incredible to us. It is
because he frankly recognizes these nearer and more
immediate results of the action of Christ upon man and
the world that we can cherish the hope that, through
these near and present results, we may advance into an
order and economy in which, as in God Himself, there
shall be no darkness at all, and believe that, beyond
this instant scene of strife and imperfection and sorrow,
there lies a world of gladness and victory and peace.
F\ir from being unwelcome to us, then, this Predic-
tion, at which we must now look a little more closely,
should be very welcome to us, since it recognizes that
darker sadder side of the Christian history with which
we are only too familiar ; while yet it bids us hold fast
the hope of large, happy, and splendid results yet to
flow from the advent and mission of our Lord.
In his Prediction Simeon bases himself on the older
prophets, and, in especial, takes many thoughts and
images from the great Immanuel prophecy of Isaiah
SIMEON.
(Chaps, vii.-ix.). His "light to lighten the Gentiles"
was probably derived from Isaiah's prediction (Chap.
ix. 2) : " The people that walked in darkness have seen
a great light ; they that dwell in the land of the shadow
of death, upon them hath the light shined." His com-
parison of the Holy Child to a Rock on which some
would fall and be bruised, while others would plant their
feet on it and rise, seems to have been taken from
Isaiah's description of the Lord of hosts (Chap. viii. 14,
15) : "And he shall be for a sanctuary ; but for a stone
of stumbling and a rock of offence to both the houses
of Israel ; . . . and many shall stumble thereon, and
fall, and be broken." And his comparison of Christ to
a Signal for contradiction, a sign to be spoken against,
might never have been made if Isaiah had not declared
(Chap. vii. 14) that his little son, Immanuel, should be
a sign which Israel would despise and reject. Like
Isaiah, and because he had studied Isaiah, Simeon con-
ceived of the true Immanuel, the Lord's Christ, as a
suffering Messiah who would be despised and rejected
of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
as passing through conflict to victory, as rising by suf-
fering to perfection. And hence he warned Mary that
even her pure and loving heart would be pierced by
many sorrows as she saw her son thwarted and rejected
by the very men He came to save and bless, sorrows as
keen and cruel as if the large barbaric " sword " used
THE PREDICTION.
by the Thracit'in mercenaries ^ had been thrust into her
bosom. Hence, too, he warned us, and all men, that
contact with Christ would determine our character and
fate, revealing the thoughts hidden within our hearts.
Nay, he implies that the thoughts thus revealed would
at first, and for the more part, be evil thoughts, thoughts
which betrayed hostility to the Lord and Saviour of
men : for the Greek word {hoaXoyLo-^oi) here rendered
" thoughts " almost always carries an evil implication in
it, and denotes "the weary working of the understanding
in the service of a bad heart." It conveys the idea that
as Christ drew near to men the first effect of his presence
and teaching would be to create a controversy, a
dialogue, in the soul, in which the lower of the two
voices would be the louder, and the worse would be
made to appear the better cause.
On the whole, then, when we look at it at all carefully,
the Prediction of Simeon has a very gloomy aspect, and
speaks with a tone of sad foreboding in strange contrast
to the riant tone of the Song of thanksgiving which
immediately precedes it. But was it too gloomy for the
facts ? Was not every jot and tittle of it fulfilled within
three and thirty years of its utterance .-• Is it not still
finding a wide and large fulfilment ?
When they were uttered, nothing could have seemed
more improbable, more incredible, than the words of
' So the Greek word for "sword " implies.
SIMEON.
Simeon ; for who, unless taught of God, could have anti-
cipated that the Jews would passionately hate and op-
pose the Messiah for whose advent they had waited and
prayed with strong desire ? And yet his words so exactly
describe the effects of our Lord's earthly ministry that
they might have been uttered after the event. He was
set for the fall and the rising of many ; for the fall of the
Scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees, all that was held to be
wisest and most religious in Israel ; and for the rise of
publicans and sinners, peasants and fishermen, all that
was held to be outcast and accursed in Israel. The most
conspicuous result of the Advent on the men of his own
time and race has been that it has turned their world
upside down, " exalting them that were of low degree,"
and plucking down from their seats the high and mighty
and wise, insomuch that we honour those whom they
despised, and condemn those whom they honoured and
revered. Christ luas a Sign spoken against, and that not
in Israel alone ; the historians of Rome have no better
name for his teaching than an " execrable, extravagant,
and malefic superstition," and thirty years after his death
the Jews knew his followers only as a sect "which was
everywhere spoken against." The Sword did pierce
Mary's heart, and not hers alone, when she and those
who loved and trusted Jesus saw Him persecuted,
reviled, betrayed, and crucified, and feared that it was
not by Him that God would redeem Israel. Christ and
THE PREDICTION. 23
his Word iverc a Touchstone by which the thouj^hts of
many hearts were revealed and arc still revealed. If
we wanted to sum up the effect of his ministry on the
Israel of his day, what better account of it could we give
than this? — that it disclosed what men were thinking of,
what they zvere, in their hearts, and proved their thoughts
to be tainted with evil, proved that under all their appa-
rent devotion to religion their hearts were estranged from
God, and that they were unable to read and understand
the sacred oracles which were their boast and pride. Is
not the pure word of Christ still a touchstone, both in
the world at large and in the individual soul ? Wherever
it comes with any power, does it not still excite a strife,
a controversy, an opposition, which betrays our inmost
thoughts, our real bent, our true character ? Even if we
accept it, is not its first effect upon us to shew us how
much evil lurks in our nature, and how strong that evil is ?
No truer picture of the results of Christ's advent and
mission could even now be painted on a canvass so small
as that of Simeon. With a few strokes, in a single
sentence, he delineates and sums up the religious history
of all the Christian centuries, no less than that of his own
age. All our subsequent experience has but shewn how
true was the inspiration by which he was moved.
Now there are three practical inferences to be drawn
from this Prediction so important, because so pertinent
24 SJMEOiy.
to our spiritual needs and moods, that I have abbreviated
my exposition of it as much as I could in order to leave
myself time to indicate them.
I. When the Word of Christ comes home to you,
whether it come to quicken you to a new life, or to con-
vince you of some truth which you had not recognized
before, or had not reduced to practice, do not be amazed
and discouraged if you stumble at it, if it awaken doubt
and contradiction in your hearts, if you find it hard to
believe, and still harder to live by. It is no strange
thing which is happening to you, but the common and
normal experience of all who believe in Him. The
advent of Christ in the heart, his coming in power, must
resemble his advent into the world, must create a strife
between the good and the evil in your nature, must
disclose so much that is evil in you as to make you fear
goodness to be beyond your reach. How, but by the
conviction of sin, can you be made penitent, and driven
to lay hold on the Salvation which takes away sin ?
And the oftener Christ comes, the nearer He draws to
you, the more fully He enters into your life — the deeper
will be your conviction of sin, of a tainted and imperfect
nature ; till, at times, you will feel as if a sword had
been thrust into your very soul. This, indeed, is what
He comes to you for ; to separate between the evil and
the good, to make you conscious of evils you did not
suspect, so conscious that you hate and long to be dc-
THE PREDICTION. 25
livcrcd from them. For "the word of God is hvin^,
and active, and sharper than any two -edged sword, and
pierces even to the dividing of soul and spirit, joints
and marrow, and is quick to discern the thoughts and
intents of the heart." The more resolutely you set
yourselves to live by that Word, the more sensible will
you become of certain inclinations and infirmities which
oppose themselves to every advance you would make.
As you follow Christ along the paths of truth and duty,
new aspects of truth will present themselves to you, new
duties will lay their claim upon you. And all your
accepted beliefs and customary obediences may join the
enemy for the moment, and resist the new light and the
new claims. The more you multiply the points of attack,
the more will the points and energies of resistance be
multiplied, till your whole life seems a mere struggle,
and often an ineffectual struggle, to be true to what you
see and to do the thing you would, and you become
practically familiar with that common anomaly of Chris-
tian experience which makes good men deem themselves
weaker and more weak the stronger they grow, and
think worse of themselves the better they arc.
In such times of conflict and apparent failure, it will
be an unspeakable comfort and encouragement to you
to know, and to remember, that they are not peculiar to
you, but common to all the children of God ; that if
Christ is to be formed in you, the hope of glory, He
26 SIMEON.
must at first be as a Rock over which you will stumble,
a Signal to call out all the contradictions and opposi-
tions of your complex nature, a Sword which will pierce
to your soul, a Touchstone which will disclose the
quality of the material of which you are made, and
shew you how evil many of your thoughts and dis-
positions are.
2. This, I say, is a great comfort, to know that our
experience of the strife and pain and self-exposure
which Religion breeds is an inevitable and common
experience, which all who were in Christ before us have
passed through, which has been deepest and most
enduring in those who have followed Him most closely
and served Him best. But it is not the only comfort or
encouragement which the Prediction of Simeon suggests.
If he had not foreseen the nearer and immediate
results of Christ's advent, we might, as I have admitted,
have distrusted him when he spake of its distant and
ultimate results. If he had not told us of the conflict
and sorrow, the self-exposure and self-contempt to
which a faithful reception of Christ subjects us, we
could hardly have believed him when he speaks of
Christ as the Consolation for all sorrow, and the Light
which is to glorify the whole dark world. But when we
find all that he said of the nearer results of Christ's
coming to be true, we can hardly help believing him
when he speaks to us of its happy ultimate results. It
THE PREDICTION. 27
could hardly have sccincd more improbable, at the time
at which he spake, that the Christ should be despised
and rejected by the Jews, than it now seems that these
struggling and imperfect lives of ours are to pass and
rise into a perfect freedom and a perfect peace ; that
the Light, which now strives confusedly with the dark-
ness of our hearts, is one day to irradiate them with a
beauty and a splendour which will make us meet to
sit down with Christ in heavenly places. The one part
of the Prediction has been fulfilled, improbable as it
was : why should not the other part be fulfilled, incredible
as it may seem ?
Simeon has approved himself a faithful witness ; we
have found in our own experience that Christ is a Rock
of stumbling and offence, a Signal which calls out all
the opposition of an imperfect nature, a Sword which
pierces the very soul and divides the evil in us from
the good, a Touchstone which reveals our most secret
thoughts and bents : let us also believe that He will
be our Consolation, our Light, our Glory.
3. We may well believe it. Per augusta ad augusta,
through a narrow way to a large place, through much
struggle with many difficulties to a glorious end,
through conflict to victory, seems to be the verj' motto
of the Christian life. And this thought also is con-
tained in Simeon's prediction. I have already spoken
of the wide apparent disparity between his prophecy
SIMEON.
of the immediate and his prophecy of the ultimate
results of Christ's advent ; the one all strife and pain
and shame, the other all consolation and peace, all
light and glory. But what if the one be the way to
the other ? Simeon seems to imply that the one is the
way to the other. It was by the Spirit of God he
foretold that this Child was to be a Light to lighten
the Gentiles and the Glory of Israel. It was by the
selfsame Spirit he foretold that this Child was to be
a Rock of offence, a Signal for contradiction, a Sword
in the soul, a Touchstone to expose our inmost thoughts.
And this latter prediction, conveyed in the words of my
text, is so framed, especially in the Greek, as to imply ^
that it was by a Divine intention, and in order to realize
a gracious Divine end, that Christ was to bring strife
on the earth, to kindle an inward war, to disclose the
lurking evils of the human heart. He was set, " in order
that the thoughts of many hearts should be revealed "
— set by God for this very purpose. So that when our
thoughts are exposed, when we have to endure the
inward conflict between evil and good, when the word
of Christ pierces and rends our hearts, all is according
to a Divine order, a Divine intention ; all is intended
to prepare and conduct us to that Divine end, the
salvation of our souls. It is all meant to prepare us
for a time in which our souls shall be so flooded and
suffused with the Divine Light that there shall be no
THE PREDICTION. 29
more darkness in us, so penetrated with the Divine
Glory that sin and sorrow and shame shall for ever
flee away. And if this be God's intention, if this is
the end to which he is conducting us, who will not
bear the strife and pain and self-contempt of this
present imperfect life with patience, nay, with courage
and with hope ?
III.
THE REDEMPTION 'OF THE REDEEMER.
"And when the days of their purification according to the law
of Moses were fulfilled, they brought him up to Jerusalem, to
present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord,
Every male that openeth the womb shall be called holy to the
Lord), and to offer a sacrifice according to that which is said in
the law of the Lord, A pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons."
— Luke ii. 22-24.
The law of Moses required that every Hebrew woman
who had given birth to a man-child should be held
unclean for forty days, and that during these da}'s she
should " touch no hallowed thing, nor come into the
sanctuary." But, " when the days of her purification were
accomplished," she was to "bring a lamb of the first
year for a burnt-offering, and a young pigeon, or a
turtledove, for a sin-offering, to the door of the taber-
nacle ; " and the officiating priest, having " made an
atonement for her," she was pronounced "clean." If
unable to offer a lamb, she was to bring two turtledoves,
or two pigeons. It was in obedience to this enactment
that " Mary, when the days of her purification were
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER, 31
accomplished," brought her young Child to the temple,
to present Him before the Lord, and offered her modest
sacrifice of a pair of doves. And if the law which for
forty days excluded the m(;thcr from the Sanctuary,
and made all that she touched unclean, had a certain
rigour in it, surely the law which appointed a yearling
lamb and a young dove — the very symbols of innocence
and beauty — a thank-offering for the birth of a child
had a touch of poetry and tenderness in it which must
have gone straight to every mother's heart. We naturally
associate childhood, or at least infancy, with whatsoever
is lovely and innocent and pure ; and we can easily
understand how, as the little procession went by, the
mother carrying her babe and leading the lamb or
caressing the dove, many hearts besides her own would
be moved, and would revert for a moment to the purity
and gentleness of those early days when all things
seemed fair and everybody good.
Mary and Joseph were not rich, nor even "well-to-do,"
or they would not have brought the offering of poverty,
two young pigeons. And if the mother of Christ was
poor, there need be no shame in poverty ; poverty can
be no proof that He does not love us. Mary's pure and
meditative heart was worth far more than many barns
and much goods to bestow in them.
St. Luke speaks not of her, but of their, purification.
And the word suggests, even if it docs not mean, that
32 THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER.
Mary came up to the temple to purify her Son as well
as herself; came, not only to present Him before the
Lord, but also to ransom Him from the service of the
priesthood : all of which is perfectly true, whether Luke
did or did not intend to convey it.
By the Hebrew law the firstfruits of every crop, and
every male that first opened the womb whether of sheep,
cattle, or other clean beasts, was set apart from the
secular uses of life, and devoted to the "service of the
Sanctuary. In like manner, the firstborn son of every
family was holy to the Lord, set apart to the priestly
function. This law, however, was soon commuted :
" Behold," said God, " I have taken the Levites from
among the children of Israel instead of all tJie firstbortir
But, notwithstanding this substitution of one tribe for
the firstborn of every tribe, the firstborn had still to be
presented in the temple, and ransomed from the service
of the temple by the payment of five of the Sanctuary
shekels — about twelve shillings of our money. And the
reason of this enactment seems to have been this : that
just as one day in the week was sanctified in order to
teach that every day is due and hallowed to God, and
one place in order to shew that there is no place where
He is not,^ so one tribe was set apart for his service, not
because the Levites were holier than other men, but to
bear witness to the fact that all men are bound to serve
' See discourse on The Covsccration of the Firstlings^ Vol. II.
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER. 33
Hiin, bDUtul therefore to a pure, righteous, and godly
life. An J, as the Jews found the lesson hard to learn,
God helped them to learn it by ordaining that, though
one tribe was wholly devoted to his service, and had
been accepted in lieu of the firstborn, nevertheless the
firstborn son of every family should be solemnly pre-
sented to Him, and redeemed from the service of his
House by the payment of five shekels. Every separate
family was thus reminded that that family, through all
its members, was holy to the Lord ; that Ihe substitution
of the Levites did not exonerate them from his service,
but rather bound them to it ; and that they, no less
than the Levites, were under a solemn obligation to
walk in all his ordinances and commandments blameless.
The particulars, the details, of Mary's obedience to
this statute are not recorded, just as a thousand other
details are not recorded, lest the world itself should not
be able to hold the Book. But we arc told that the
parents of Jesus " brought him up to Jerusalem to present
him to tlie Lord, as it is written in the law of the Lord,
Every male that openeth the wonih shall be called holy to
the Lord ;" we arc told that "the}' brought in the child
Jesus to do for him after the custom of the law." The
statute is quoted, the obedience recorded in general
terms. Had there been any departure from " the custom
of the law," no doubt this also would have been re-
corded. As it is, we are left to conclude, and may
4
34 THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER.
certainly conclude, that all was done in due order ; we
may be sure that both the Babe and his mother were
purified from their ceremonial uncleanness, and that the
child Jesus was ransomed, by payment of the stipulated
shekels, from the service of the Hebrew priesthood.
Now this redemption of the Redeemer, and this
purification of the pure Son of God, if it chance to
be new to you, may be a little perplexing. You may
ask, "Why should He who knew no sin be purged
from uncleanness ? and why should the great High
Priest of our confession be ransomed from the priestly
service ? " And the questions are worth asking, worth
answering, since the answer to them may help to bring
home to us both the essential humanity and the eternal
priesthood of our Lord.
I. Let us enquire why the Holy Child was purified.
I. In the eye of the Hebrew law, the mother and her
child were regarded as having one life, and the purifica-
tion of the mother extended to and covered the child.
Jesus, therefore, was purified in the purification of the
Virgin Mary. Why } Simply that in this, as in all
other respects, He might be made like unto his brethren.
True that in Him there was no uncleanness, no sin. But
just as it became Him to be circumcised, although He
was born without " the foreskin of the heart ; " just as it
became Him to submit to the baptism of repentance,
although He had no guilt to wash away ; so also it
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER. 35
became Him to be purificcl, although He was not un-
clean. Sinless, He appeared " in the likeness of sinful
flesh." Our limitations and infirmities were in his man-
hood, though our iniquities were not. It was meet,
therefore, that He who " took not on him the nature of
angels," but that " flesh and blood," that mortal and
peccable nature of which " the children were partakers,"
should observe those ordinances by which the infirmities
of the flesh were counteracted, and to the observance of
which all " the sons of the law " were bound. " The
Sanctifier and the sanctified are all of one ; wherefore
He is not ashamed to call them brethren : " but how
should the divine Sanctifier be one with the sanctified
among men unless He assumed their very nature, and
became perfect by obeying the very law by obedience
to which they attain perfection ? How, except by this
identity of nature and of obedience, could He become
so one with them as that, in raising Himself, He should
raise them, and glorify their humanity in glorifying his
own ? If He had not been circumcised, and purified,
and baptized with them, how should they have been
"crucified together with him " and " made to sit together
with him in heavenly places " ? Every link which bound
and drew Him down to them was also a link which
bound them to Him, and by which He will in due time
draw them up to Himself. To demonstrate his essential
humanity, to multiply the points of contact and attach-
35 THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER.
ment between Him and the race He came to save, — this
was why He had to submit to all the ordinances, as well,
as keep all the commandments, whether of the former or
of the present Dispensation.
2. Every divine ordinance has a power in it and a
gift. If duly observed, it ministers strength and grace,
subdues, or helps to subdue, the evil that is in us, to
unfold and augment that which is good. And why
should we not believe that the divine ordinances which
found their fulfilment in Christ, also communicated their
power to Him ? We admit that his manhood was de-
veloped and trained, as ours is, by a gradual process, a
process of growth ; that He learned by the experience
which life brought Him, and was exalted by the
ennobling ministry of death. Why not also admit
and believe that this gradual process was wrought in
the normal way ; that He grew, as we grow, by a daily
resistance to evil, an enlarging obedience to the Divine
commandments, a faithful observance of all good cus-
toms, all Divine ordinances ? It is through these
channels that the Divine influence, the Divine grace,
reaches us ; and through these channels it reached
Him. The circumcision and purification of Christ were
but the first steps of an ascending series which led Him
on, through the public dedication of Himself to' the
service of God when He was twelve years old, and the
observance of the Hebrew fasts and feasts and sabbaths,
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER. yj
to the baptism of John and the final Passover, which, at
his touch, flowered into Christian baptism and the sacra-
ment of the Supper. All these ordinances He kept in
order that in all things He might be made like unto his
brethren, and fulfil all their righteousness : and doubtless
He received from each of them its special gift and
power.
And He became like unto his brethren in all things
in order to quicken in us the hope that, in all things, we
may become like Him ; to give us the assurance that
He came to breathe his spirit into our spirits and to
conform us to his image.
3. It lends the last perfecting touch to this thought
if we remember that, not only was Jesus purified, but
purified together with his mother. For, surely, this
union of the immaculate Child with the maculate woman
brings home to us the conviction, that the Divine docs
not shrink from fellowship with the human, that the
sinless Lord is of one nature with sinful men, and can
be touched with a feeling of our infirmities. To see
Jesus and Mary joined in one act of worship, before one
and the same altar, is such a revelation of the Divine
love and humility as should be a perennial fountain of
hope in our hearts. He became of one flesh with us,
that we might become of one spirit with Him. He took
our unclcanness on Him, that we might become par-
38 THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER.
II. But if it seem strange that He who was without
sin should be cleansed, it can hardly seem less strange
that tJie Redeemer should be redeemed, that the only true
Priest of men should be ransomed from the priestly
office and function. Yet a certain superficial solution of
the difficulty is obvious. For Jesus Christ came, after
the flesh, of the tribe of Judah, not of the tribe of Levi,
of the royal tribe, not of the sacerdotal. And if it
behoved Him to have respect to the laws of our common
humanity, and, in particular, to the laws of the Hebrew
nation, it also became Him to respect the laws of his
tribe. He came to fulfil, not to violate, the Divine order.
And hence, a son of Judah by birth. He could not
become a Hebrew priest, but must be ransomed, as the
firstborn of his tribe were ransomed, from the service of
the temple.
This is one answer to the question, "Why was the
Priest ransomed, the Redeemer redeemed ? " And it is
a conclusive answer so far as it goes. But it does not
go very far or deep. The Writer of the Epistle to the
Hebrews invites us to take a larger view, and furnishes
us with a more conclusive reply. He suggests that,
precisely because Christ was the true Priest of men. He
could not enter the Hebrew priesthood. The true, the
universal priest, he tells us, must be consecrated by
eternal and invisible, not by visible and temporal,
sanctions. He must not be a son of Levi, or a priest
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER. 39
of Aaron's order, but " a priest for ever after the order
of IMclchizcdek." " Perfection," he argues, " could not
come by the Levitical priesthood;" and therefore "there
ariseth another priest who is made, not after the law of
a carnal commandment, but after the power of an end-
less life." To this Great High Priest the sons of Aaron
bore witness, but an imperfect witness. They were the
shadows which He cast before ; and the priestly, like
other shadows, was often black, distorted, variable,
always imperfect. Because perfection could not come
by the Levites, the perfect Priest must be redeemed
from their office and service.
In fine, the Epistle signalizes three points in which
the Hebrew priests bore witness to Christ, but in which,
while He resembled, He so far transcended them as to
prove Himself a priest of another order and higher
functions, (i) They were "ordained for men;" (2) they
were " ordained by God ; " (3) they were " ordained to
offer gifts and sacrifices." Let us glance at each of these
points for a moment, and so come to a close.
I. They were ordained for men. The Levites were
not to be, like the heathen priesthoods, a separate caste,
having no vital bonds of union, no social relations, with
their brethren. They were to be of their brethren, that
they might be for them. A certain ceremonial purity
was conferred upon them, but it was only ceremonial,
and it was not conferred for their own sakes. In their
40 THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER.
personal life and character they were no better than
other Jews. They had to offer sacrifices for their own
sins before they could atone for the sins of the people.
Their holiness was a purely official and representative
holiness : they were set apart from certain common and
secular uses of life, invested with a certain sacredncss,
in order that the whole people might be constantly
reminded of their holy calling. They were ordained for
men, for the sake of their neighbours. The Shekinah
was a type of the whole priestly system ; it was a Light,
but a Light involved in a cloud. And if ever the Light
was to break through and absorb the cloud, it must be
at the coming of One mightier than they; One in whom
their legal sanctity should be replaced by an unsullied
personal holiness ; One who should not only remind
men that they ought to be holy, but be able to make
them holy, to communicate to them the virtue and the
power of his own spotless life.
2. They were ordained by God. God had elected the
sons of Levi to minister at his altar. By regular suc-
cession, by right of birth, or, as the Epistle phrases it,
" by the law of a carnal commandment," they were
admitted to the priesthood. Most of them were without
any special fitness for their special work ; many of them
were, ethically, quite unfit for it. The accident of birth
decided their vocation ; and hence it was, I suppose,
that throughout the long Old Testament history, we
THE REDEMPTION OF THE REDEEMER. 41
meet with very few priests who are conspicuous for
commandin., a man whose life was
devoted to the study and exposition of the law as given
by Moses, this law being, remember, the law of the land,
the public legal code of the Hebrew race. So that the
94 THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
lawyer was a kind of Biblical solicitor, just as the scribe
was "a writer" in the Scotch sense. Men consulted him
as to whether this or that action were legal and allowed.
They brought him cases of conscience and difficult
problems of interpretation, consulting him on their
duties and their rights, just as any one of us might go
to a solicitor and ask him whether or not the statutes of
the realm would bear us out in this course of procedure
or that, or gave us a remedy for this or that wrong.
Even in his unprofessional hours and moods the Hebrew
lawyer was not averse " to moot points," and to pose less
learned persons than himself with questions they might
find it hard to answer. This lawyer thought that he
would pose Jesus who, though trained in no school of
learning, had just answered the questions of the Herod-
ians and Sadducees so wisely as to astonish all who
heard Him. And so he asks Him, " Rabbi, which is the
great commandment of the law?" But here our English
very imperfectly renders the Greek. The word rendered
" which" means far more than "which." What the lawyer
really asked was, " Of what sort, or kind, what is the
quality, character, distinction, of that commandment
which you consider to be the greatest ? " Or, to put the
puzzle more simply and broadly, " Which do you hold
to be the best commandment in the Bible } " And
when he had put his question, I dare say the lawyer
drew himself up, and nodded shrewdly at his com-
THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS. 95
panions, as who should say, " Let him answer that if
he can ! "
But Jesus can answer the question, and does answer it,
without delay. "The best commandment," lie says,
" the commandment of widest reach and finest quality, is
this : Thou shalt love the Lord thy God in the whole of
thy heart, and in the whole of thy soul, and in the whole
of thy mind." The smile of expected triumph fades
from the lawyer's lips as he listens. He has met his
match, and far more than his match ; for the Lord Jesus,
giving him even more than he had asked, continues :
" But a second is like unto it ; " i.e., " there is another
commandment of the same fine quality, the same pene-
trating force, the same broad scope ; and it is this :
" Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself"
Now this was the true answer, the full and complete
answer, to the question, as the lawyer could not deny.
For his catch was a common one in that day, and the
answer of Jesus was the recognized solution of it. Long
before this moment, another lawyer, when asked by
Christ, " What is written in the law ? how readest
thou?" had replied, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy
God, with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with
all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neigh-
bour as thyself" (Luke x. 25-27). So that our Lord's
answer, his. solution of the problem, was not original ;
it was the common and accepted answer among the
96 THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
students and masters of the law — as, indeed, this master
confesses in the words, " Of a truth. Teacher, thou hast
well said " (Mark xii. 32, 33).
The only wonder to those who heard it from Christ's
lips was how He came to know it, He who had " never
learned," never sat at the feet of any of their rabbis, never
passed through any of their schools. It was a lawyer's
puzzle ; and as He was not a lawyer, they expected Him
to be posed by it. An ordinary layman would have been
posed by it. For neither "the first and great command-
ment," nor " the second, which is like unto it," was con-
tained in the Decalogue, though obedience to them was
far " more than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices."
The first, that which enjoins love to God, is only given,
incidentally, in a summary of human duty contained in
Deuteronomy (Chap. vi. 5 ; and again, Chap. x. 12).
The second, that which enjoins love for our neighbour,
is hidden away among a crowd of Levitical enactments
of the most minute and burdensome kind, — enactments
as to how corn was to be reaped and grapes gathered, on
the consideration to be shewn for the deaf and the blind,
on not sowing different kinds of seed in the same field,
and not weaving linen and woollen yarns into the same
garment (Leviticus xix. 18). It took some knowledge of
the law, therefore, to find these two commandments at
all, and much knowledge of it, and much spiritual insight,
to discern that they were the first and best command-
THE CHRISTIAN COM yf A MOMENTS. 97
merits. Had the question been put to most Jews, or
perhaps even to any of our Lord's disciples, they would
in all probability have run over the familiar ten com-
mandments in their minds, and have asked themselves,
" Is it this, or this ? " and no doubt the vast majority of
them would have settled on that which stands first on
the roll, and replied, " This is the first and great com-
mandment. Hear, O Israel, thou shalt have no other gods
before me." It was only the lawyers who would have
answered the question as Jesus answered it.
But though they would have used his words, would
they have used them in the same sense ? They would
have selected the same two commandments for special
honour ; we know that they did select them : but would
they have seen in them the meaning that He saw ? W'c
know that they would not, that they did not. To them,
this answer was only the right answer to a legal catch ;
to Him, it was the supreme fact of human life. For
what else had He come into the world but just this ? —
To induce men, by revealing God's hearty love for them
all, to love Him with all their hearts and their neighbours
as themselves. In these two commandments. He affirms,
hung the whole law and the prophets ; that is to say,
" This love for God and man is as a vast orbit, or sphere,
within whose ample curve the whole moral law swings,
and moves, and holds its course. He whose thoughts,
affections, will, life, are dominated by love has, in this
8
98 THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
love, tliat which includes all that the law of Moses was
given to enjoin, and all that the prophets were sent to
teach. Within the orbit of love the whole world of duty
has ample verge. He who has this, has all."
This, in brief, was what Christ meant by his answer to
the question. But though the lawyers gave precisely the
same answer to it, was this what they meant by the
answer ? It was at the farthest remove from what they
meant by it, as their lives proved, and the occupation on
which they wasted their lives. They gave themselves to
" fencing," to interpreting, applying, and guarding the
cumbrous system of enactments by which Moses had
separated the Jews from other races, and that in the
most formal, technical, and exclusive spirit. They were
zealous for tradition. They overlaid the commandments
with a mass of pedantic details which grew into a burden
too heavy to be borne by any living conscience. They
sank into casuists. They sacrificed morality to religion.
Their conscience ran to leaf instead of fruit. Instead
of putting love first, they simply make it impossible :
for how could a man love the God who was for ever
tormenting him with minute rigorous requirements which
made his life a burden to him .-^ or how could he secure
a heart at leisure from itself with which he might love
his neighbour ?
Obviously, then, although the lawyers answered the
question, " Which is the best commandment ? " as Jesus
THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS, 99
answered it, tlicy used the same words in a wholly
different sense. They were puz^Jing out a legal riddle ;
lie was enunciating the supreme law of human life, the
law by which lie ruled his own life and would have us
rule ours.
And is it not, in very deed, the true and supreme law ?
Arc not these two Commandments of the finest quality,
of the most subtle spiritual temper, of the amplest scope ?
Surely it is reasonable that we should love God, our
Maker, Father, Redeemer. Surcl>' it is reasonable that,
if we lov*t Ilim at all, we should love Him with the whole
of our nature, and not only with a part of it, in the whole
of our heart, and of our soul, and of our mind. And if
it be reasonable to love Him in whom we live, and move,
and have our being, it is also reasonable that we should
love one another, since He quickened and sustains us
all. " What do we live for, if it be not to make life less
difficult to each other ?" It is hard enough of itself ; we
need not make it harder. Do we not, each of us, crave
love for himself? and can we hope to receive, save as we
give, it ? Nay, do we not, each one of us, crave to hK\\
even more than to be loved? Is it not even more neces-
sary for our wellbeing and happiness that we should be
saved from selfishness by having the fountain of love
unsealed within us than that, still remaining selfish, we
should drink of the pure stream which fiows from a
neighbour's heart ?
loo THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
If any man ask, " Why does Christ lay so much stress
on a mere sentiment, or emotion ? " the answer is clear
and plain. Our whole life is ruled by sentiment ; in all
we do we are prompted by some passion or emotion.
What is it that takes you to your daily tasks, and makes
you diligent in discharging them ? It is your love of
gain, or of a good reputation ; or it is a passionate desire
to get on in the world, to rise, to win the respect of
men ; or it is a sense of duty energized by love for your
wife and children, your wish to provide for them and to
give them all they require. Sentiment, emotion, passion,
is the motive-force, the driving-force, of human life ; and
therefore Christ lays so much emphasis upon it, and
urges us, as our first duty, to get the mainspring of
passion right.
If any man — a little weary of the modern cant about
charity — should ask, " Why does Christ lay so much
stress on love ? why does He declare the commandments
which enjoin love of God and man to be the two com-
mandments which include all others ? " again the answer
is plain and clear. Selfishness is the root and essence of
ail sin ; and love is the one passion that can conquer
selfishness. When we do what our conscience condemns,
it is because we seek thereby to advance our own
interests, or supposed interests, or because we want to
seize what we take for pleasure. We set up our own will
against another and a higher Will. That is to say, in the
THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS. loi
last resort, sin is always selfishness, the selfishness which
defeats itself. Whenever wc do wrong, we are making
self our centre — self-interest, self-gratification, self-love.
This base passion is natural to us, or natural to that
which is base in us ; and, being natural, it is strong.
The one passion that always masters it, that masters it
for a time even in the basest and most grasping natures,
is love. It is of the very essence of love that it is un-
selfish, that it prefers the welfare, the gain, or the pleasure,
of another to its own.
Love seckcth not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another yives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.
It is only lust, that base and sensual counterfeit of love,
which —
seekcth only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.
And hence it is that Christ lays so much stress on love,
the true master-passion of the soul. As selfishness is the
root of all sin, so love is the root of all nobleness and
virtue. Christ came to shift the centre of gravity in the
human soul, to move and raise it from selfishness to love.
Because He came to save us from our sins, He bids us
love — love God and man — with a pure and undivided
affection. Within this golden sphere, He affirms, the
I02 THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
whole law to be hung, so that he who possesses himself
of love possesses himself of that which includes the whole
duty of man.
But hozv^xQ. we to be won to this pure and disinterested
affection ? No common inducement will suffice. Nor
is it a common inducement that is offered us. In the
person of Christ God Himself became man, lived our life,
bore our sorrows, died our death, took away our sins, and
went up on high to shed down his pure and loving spirit
on us, and to prepare a place for us, that where He is
there we may be also. And all this He did to shew how
far He would go, how much He would do, to redeem us
from our miseries, and from the sins from which our
misery springs.
Now if that be true, as it is, have we not abundant
cause to cherish a love for God the domain of which
shall include our whole heart, our whole soul, our whole
mind ? Can we go too far, or do too much, for Him ?
And if He loved men even more than lie loved Him-
self, ought not zve to love them at least as much as we
love ourselves } Must we not, if our love for Him be
sincere .? How can we love Him with an utter and
unselfish devotion, and not love those who are so dear
to Him, who have never wronged us as they have
wronged Him, and whose faults cannot be so offensive
to us as they arc to Him ?
Why do we not love them } Because they do not
THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS. 103
please us ; because they offend us ; perchance because
they wronfT, or even because they weary, us. That is to
say, we are still thinking of ourselves. Self colours all
our thoughts of our neighbours, and all the emotions
we cherish toward them. Love has not }ct conquered
selfishness in us. We are still in our sins, still in that sel-
fishness from which all sin springs. The very moment we
consciously cherish a repugnance to any man, or cease to
fight against it, we may know that our love of God is not
perfect. See how those in whom love is nearest to per-
fection and self most dead, in their round of service and
devotion, go among the most vicious and depraved, the
most loathsome and neglected of their neighbours. See
how men and women of the most refined culture and
habits will preside over the casual ward of a workhouse,
or sponge the sores of hospital patients, or grope for the
wounded amid the smoke and darkness of the battle-
field. Nay, remember how Christ Himself went about
doing good among the lame, the blind, the paralyzed,
the leprous, laying his hands upon them at times with
a tender caressing love, meeting them alwaj-s with a
love that was warm, and cordial, and sympathetic.
When you would know how you should love God,
what is meant b}' loving Him with all your heart and
soul and mind, remember how Christ loved Him, so
loved Him that He did not count his life dear if only
He might do the will of his Father. When you would
104 THE CHRISTIAN COMMANDMENTS.
know how you should love your neighbour, and what is
meant by loving him as yourself, do not listen to theo-
logians and moralists, with their fine-spun distinctions
between " the love of complacency " and " the love of
benevolence," but remember Christ ; remember that you
have seen Him caressing a little child, leading a blind
man by the hand, becoming a leper by touching a leper;
remember that you have heard Him accost a stranger
as a friend, and bless the harlot who wept at his feet,
and sit at meat with publicans and sinners who had
been driven out of the Synagogue with stripes. And
let the love that wrought in Him be in you, and work
in you as it wrought in Him, so that you too shall not
count your lives dear unto you in the service of God,
and shall see in every man, however degraded or
offensive, a brother and a friend.
an
VIII.
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
"And I saw another anfjcl flyin}^ in mid-heaven, havin
eternal gospel to proclaim to them that dwell on the earth, and
unto every nation and tribe and tongue and people ; and he saith
with a great voice. Fear (iod, and give him glory ; for the hour of
his judgment is come: and worship him that made the heaven and
the earth, and sea and fountains of waters.'' — Rlvelation xiv.6, 7.
St. John was not a prophet in the ancient and the
vulgar sense ; he was not a mere seer of coming events,
a mere student and interpreter of the shadows they cast
before them ; but a wise and holy man who had a keen
and trained insight into the moral laws by which God
governs the world, and so heartily believed in these laws
as to be quite sure that in the ethical, as in the physical,
world efTccts spring from causes and correspond to
them, that actions are inwiriably followed b}- their due
consequences and rewards. And, hence, the ApocaU-pse
of St. John is not a series of forecasts, predicting the
political weather of the world through the ages of
liistor}' ; it is rather a scries of symbols and visions in
which the universal principles of the Divine Rule arc
lo6 THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
set forth in forms dear to the heart of a Hebrew mystic
and poet.
What is most valuable to us in this Book, therefore,
is not the letter, the form, not the vials, the seals, the
trumpets, over which interpreters, who play the seer
rather than the prophet, have been wrangling and per-
plexing their brains for centuries, but the large general
principles which these mystic symbols of Oriental
thought are apt to conceal from a Western mind.
Whether or not, for example, this vision of an angel
flying through heaven to proclaim an impending judg-
ment was taken by St. John's first readers to indicate
an approaching event of world-wide moment, is a ques-
tion of comparatively slight importance to us ; it is,
indeed, mainly a question of curious antiquarian in-
terest. But that a Divine judgment impends over all
the actions and generations of men ; that the hour of
judgment is sure to strike at the due moment, let men
play what tricks they will with the hands of the clock,
and sure to be heard over all the world, let men close,
their ears as they will : that this fact of impending and
inevitable judgment is an eternal, or a:onial, Gospd,
veritable good tidings of great joy to every nation and
tribe, tongue and people — all this is at once of supreme
importance and supreme interest. A gospel for all men,
in all ages, must be a gospel for us. A gospel weighted
t)y no miracles and no dogmas ; a gospel which is open
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION. 107
to no question and no doubt, but is felt to be true
always, and cverywlicre, and by all ; a gospel which science
and experience and conscience proclaim as earnestly as
any other anc^els, or messengers and ministers, of God ;
a gospel which throws an interpreting, reconciling, and
healing light on the darkest sorrows and deepest wounds
of the human heart, must surely be the very gospel
which many stricken and wandering souls are now
seeking, and to which even the most worldly and indif-
ferent must listen not with interest alone, but with lively
curiosity and some faint stirrings of expectation and
hope.
I. What, then, is this Gospel ? It is the gospd of
retribution ; we are to fear and glorify God because the
hour of his judgment is covie. This is the truth which
the angel fl}'ing in mid-heaven, between God and man,
proclaims to-day, and always has proclaimed, and
alwa}-s will proclaim. This is the truth which St.
John calls "an eternal gospel" — not the gospel, and
still less the only gospel, but still a veritable gospel,
glad tidings of great joy, to us and to all mankind.
Are you disappointed? Do you say: "That is true
enough, no doubt. Sooner or later the actions of men
do round upon them in the strangest way. A man may
as soon jump off his own shadow as evade the con-
sequences of his own deeds. Mis sins find him out, let
him hide himself where he will, and though he run to
io8 THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
the ends of the earth. Even when, for a time, they
bring no outward visible punishment, they strike inward,
and inflict the most fatal punishment upon him, in the
deterioration of his own character, in the fears they
breed, in his polluted memory, in his growing aptitude
for evil, in the desires they excite, in the habits they
confirm, in his gathering indifference to that which is
pure and good and fair. But we need no apostle, no
angel out of heaven, to teach us that. Our poets, our
moralists, our philosophers, our very novelists, have long
sung in that key. And our own hearts, our consciences,
our experience of life, have taken up and swelled the
strain. We need no further witness to the fact of Re-
tribution. But there is no gospel in the fact. It brings
no good tidings to us, but rather tidings of despair. A
gospel of Redemption would be good news indeed, if it
could possibly be true ; but a gospel of Retribution is
a mere contradiction in terms,"
If in these words I have at all fairly described your
attitude as you listen to my text and ponder over it,
permit me, in reply, to ask : Have you, then, learned the
lesson which so many teachers have impressed on you,
so learned it as to walk by it } Do you attune your life
to the strain they have sung } Are you so sure that
every man must receive according to his deeds that you
have made your ways and doings good, that you dread
and resist every temptation to do evil ? You respect
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIDUTIOiW. 109
and observe the law of gravity because you are quite
sure that it is a law. Do you shew an equal respect for
the law of retribution ? If not, many as have been your
teachers, you may still need to have the law enforced
upon you, and neither angel nor apostle is wasting the
time and energy which he expends in teaching you what
you still need to learn.
Consider, again : if the laiv of retribution is familiar
to you, is it nothing to you to be assured, and assured
on the highest authority, that what you admit to be
a law is also a gospel? When we are told that God's
judgments on sin are an eternal gospel, a gospel for all
beings in all ages, what is implied ? TJiis is implied —
and there is no truth more precious or more practical —
that the judgments of God are corrective, disciplinary,
redemptive ; that they are designed to turn us away
from the sins by which they are provoked ; that the
message they bring us, and bring from Heaven, is,
" Cease to do evil, learn to do well."
Nothing can be more wholesome for us, and no truer
or nobler comfort can be given us, when we are suffering
the painful consequences of our evil deeds, than the
assurance that these retributions are intended for our
good ; not to injure or destroy us, but to quicken life
in us, or the godly sorrow which workcth life. Nothing
can be more wholesome or consolatory than the convic-
tion that the law which makes punishment the other
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
half of sin was designed in love and mercy, not in anger
and vengeance. And, surely, up to a certain point at
least, we can see that this law is a good law, deterring us
from evil, driving and inviting us toward that which is
good. If the links w^hich bind pain and loss to wrong-
doing were broken, if. suffering did not wait on sin,
should we be the better and the happier for it, the
stronger against temptation, the more resolute in our
pursuit of goodness ? Would the world be the better
or the happier for it ? But if the law work good, it is
good ; i.e., it is a gospel as well as a law. If it would be
bad news that the law was to be repealed, it must be
good news that it is to stand fast for ever, that God
always has, and always will, judge men after their deeds
and reward them according to their ways.
That there is much in the operation of this law which
as yet we cannot fathom, or cannot prove to be good,
must be admitted. One man's guilt is another man's
loss or pain. We often suffer as much from our igno-
rance as from our sins. The best people often have the
hardest life. And here, as we cannot walk by sight, we
must walk by faith. The only question is in zuhich faith
we will walk ; in the belief that God is unjust and
unmerciful, or in the belief that these unprovoked or
undeserved sufferings are also intended for our good,
that there is that in them to thank God for as well as
that which we cannot but fear. St. John elects the
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
nobler allernativc. Witli him, judgment is always mercy,
and suffering, since it is a discipline in holiness and
l)erfcction, a call to thanksgiving and joy. Retribution
is a gospel, an eternal gospel, to him, because it is
medicinal and redemptive, because it either corrects
that which is evil in us, or because it is a discipline by
which we are prepared for larger good.
2. But this mystery of unprovoked or disproportionate
suffering may grow clearer to us as we consider that, in
his eternal gospel, St. John includes not only present,
but also future, judgments. The angel is always pro-
claiming judgment, but he also proclaims "hours" of
judgment, crises in which the whole story of a life, a
race, or an age, is summed up, and finally adjusted by
an unerring standard. Such an hour was then at hand.
Such an hour is never far off from any one of us. The
minutes may pass silently on the great clock of Time,
but the hours strike ; and when the last hour strikes,
whether for us individually or for the world at large,
there is to be a great clearing up, a great adjustment
and readjustment of accounts.
No fact, no truth, proclaimed by Christ, and by his
angels or messengers, has been in\esLed with more awful
terrors than this of the last judgment — the last, or at
least the last for us, the judgment which closes this
earthly span. And, to flesh and blood, it must always
be full of terror. Faith itself must always contemplate
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
it with a certain awe. For though, to the eye of reason,
" the last judgment " is simply a solemn and picturesque
symbol of the fact, that the law of retribution will be as
efficient, and perhaps more obviously efficient in the
world to come than it is in this world, yet even reason
herself must admit that the start we make in any world
goes far to determine our course in it and our lot ; while
faith discerns issues of life and death depending on that
judgment, and trembles under the burden of an eternal,
or agelong, doom.
However carefully we may have studied the New
Testament, then, and however large may be our trust in
the mercy of God, it can hardly fail to strike us with
surprise that this future judgment, which the Church has
depicted in the darkest hues, should be spoken of as a
" gospel," a gospel for all men and for all ages, and that
we should be invited to look forward to it with thanks-
giving as well as with awe. And yet there are consider-
ations which may well abate our surprise.
For, with all his fear of judgment, there is a deep
craving for justice, in every man's heart, and a profound
conviction that, in some respects at least, he has never
had it, or never had it to the full. His neighbours have
wronged him. He has had to suffer for their folly, their
extravagance, their crimes, their sins. His actions have
been misrepresented, his motives misconstrued. Or he
has been weighted from the first with some hereditary
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION. 113
bias, or some defect of person or manner, so tint he
could never shew himself for what he is, and win the
respect and love he craved. Or circumstances have been
against him; and he has never been able to get the
culture he longed for and prized, or to use it to any
purpose when he had got it, or to do half the liberal,
honourable, and kindly things his heart devised. Poverty,
drudgery, grief, and care, have exhausted him, leaving
him no leisure and no force for pursuing the loftier aims
of life. Or he has been unfortunate in the relationships
he has formed, and found them a burden instead of a
help. Or he has been compelled to adopt a calling for
which he has no liking, and which does not give scope
for half his powers. Or when all was well with him, a
killing frost suddenly fell on him in the summer of his
days — his health failed him, his business fell awa)', his
reputation was cruelly assailed, or the light of his home
and heart was put out.
As )'0U all know, as some of you ma\- know only too
well, there are men who, in a thousand different ways,
have been crippled, hampered, thwarted, defeated in the
race of life, who have never had a fair chance, whose
hearts have been shaken and soured by the accidents
and changes of time ; men to whom life has grown to
be a perplexity, a muddle, if not a despair, so that they
can very hardly hold fast their faith in the Providence
which shapes our ends for us, roughhcw or mishew them
9
114 THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
how we will. And if to any of these sufferers from
misfortune or injustice, sitting in darkness and asking,
•' What does it all mean ? " you could say, and say with
conviction and authority : " It means that the end is not
yet; but the end is coming. God will yet do you ample
justice, redress all your wrongs, compensate you for all
your losses, turn all your sorrows into joy, make you
what you would be, and enable you to do and to get all
you crave:" — would not such a message be a true gospel
to him ? If he could believe it, would it not be to him
as life from the dead ? Would he be slow to give glory
unto God ?
Nay, is there not something in this gospel which
attracts us all ? Surely most of us feel that, owing
to lack of opportunity and favourable conditions, we
have not been able to do justice to ourselves, to
what is best, tenderest, finest, shyest, in ourselves ; or
that we have been unjustly handled — misunderstood,
undervalued, disliked, wronged — by some of our fellows,
and even by some who would have loved and aided
us had they known us as we are. And is it not good
news that when we pass from the hasty censures of
a busy and careless, if not a cruel, world, we shall be
weighed in finer scales and a truer balance? that our
most inward and delicate motives will be taken into
account, as well as the blundering actions which so ill
expressed them, by One who knows us altogether, and
reads the thoughts and intents of the heart ?
THE GOSPEL OF RETRUiUTION. 115
Fear God, then, and give Him glory, for the hour of
his judgment is coming, and is nigh. You cannot help
but fear Him, indeed ; for his pure eyes must discern
much evil in you which you have failed to detect; and
at his bar you will have to answer for your injustice to
your neighbours, for the wrongs you have done them,
for your misconstructions of their characters, their actions,
their motives. When the secrets of all hearts are disclosed,
you will find that much which you resented in them as
unkind or unjust was not, or was not meant to be, either
unjust or unkind : and you may discover that }X)U have
failed in your duty to them quite as often as they have
failed in their duty to you. You are sure to discover
that in many different ways you have failed in your duty
to their God and yours, and that by your sins against
Him you have wronged your own souls even more
deeply than any of }'our neighbours have been able to
wrong you. But, according to St. John, with fear or
reverence we are to blend thanksgiving. According to
him. Retribution is a gospel as well as a law, and we arc
to give glory to God even as we advance toward his
judgment-seat And how could we do that if we did
not believe that, as in this world, so also in the world to
come, judgment will be mercy, and that all the punish-
ments of sin will be designed for our correction, for our
redemption from the bondage of evil ? How should
either an apostle, or an angel, bid us bless God for the
ii6 THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
hour of judgment as for a gospel, if there were no mercy,
no hope, no blessing in it ?
3. This gospel is an eternal, or universal, gospel, a
gospel for all ages, for all men. It is proclaimed unto
" every nation and tribe, and tongue and people." And
here, surely, we may find a theme for praise. The world
is full of injustice, full of misery. Think what men
suffer, and have always suffered, from the tyranny, of
their rulers, from the follies and crimes of statesmen, from
unwise laws or a partial and imperfect administration of
law, from war, vice, bigotry, superstition. Or think only
of what you see immediately around you, in the little
circle of which you form part. Think of the fair young
lives, full of promise, which you have seen suddenly
broken off; of strong men stricken down into helplessness
in a moment, of good women pining away in penury or
wasting with disease, of honest industrious men disgraced
by failure or reduced to want. Think of the fond parents
who have lost their children, of the tender children who
have been left to battle alone with a hard indifferent
world, of loving husbands and wives separated by the
stroke of death. And as you think of these common
events, events as common in every other circle as in your
own, what a gospel is this which the angel, flying in mid-
heaven, proclaims with a great voice ? " This world is
not all. It is not the end, but only the beginning ; and
the beginnings of life are always obscure and mysterious.
THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION. 117
The hour of judgment is coming, in wliich the mystery
will be explained and vindicated ; in which God will
redress every wrong, compensate every loss, reunite all
sundered hearts, give scope for all lives which .have
been stunted and broken off to develop into their full
beauty and perfection, find better wbrk for those to do
who have been cut off in a career of usefulness, and by
the very punishments which his justice inflicts correct
and redeem those who have suffered this world to be
too much with them."
Take the world as it is, cut it off from the great astro-
nomical system of which it forms part, and it is a
mystery which none can fathom. And take human life
as it is, as a story without a sequel, and you can only
give it up as an insoluble problem, a mighty maze with-
out a plan. But listen to this Gospel of Retribution,
connect this world with the world, or worlds, in heaven,
regard the present life as an introduction to, a discipline
for, a larger happier life to come, and )Our burden is
eased ; the problem becomes capable cf a happy solu-
tion. If you must still fear God, you can also give Him
glory because the hour of his judgment is coming, the
hour at which He will gather the whole world under his
rule, and all nations and tribes, and tongues and peoples,
shall become his people and know Him for their God.
That this law of Retribution has another aspect, that
the justice of God must be full of terror for as many as
ii8 THE GOSPEL OF RETRIBUTION.
cleave to their sins and will not let them go, none of us
who worship here are likely to forget.^ But this aspect
is not set before us in the text. Here we have only to
do with the gospel in the law of Retribution. Let it be
enough for the present, then, if this gospel has been pro-
claimed, and if we have found in it good tidings of great
joy to all who dwell upon the earth.
' On Retribution viewed as a Law see Discourses 2, 9, 12, in
Volume I.
IX.
THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER,
I.— BE CLEAN !
''And there cometli to him a leper, beseeching him.and kneeling
down to him, and saying unto him, If thou wilt, thou canst make
me clean. And being moved with compassion, he stretched forth
his hand, and touched him, and saith unto him, 1 will, be thou
made clean. And straightway the leprosy departed from him, and
he was made clean." — Mark. i. 40-42.
Amonci the Jews no leper was allowed to enter the
Sanctuary, or to mix with his healthy neighbours, or so
much as to live within the city walls. He was wholly
cut off from the sweet uses and charities of life, a banned,
and often a solitary, outcast. According to the Mosaic
law, he was bound to dwell without the camp, alone, to
go with bare head and torn garments, and to warn off
any who approached him by crying out, " Unclean,
unclean ! "
Surely a very cruel law ; for leprosy is not contagious,
though it may be transmitted from father to son. Nor
is there any reason to suppose that Moses thought it
120 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
contagious, that his law was intended as a sanitary pre-
caution. For, outside Judca, the leper was not separated
from his neighbours, nor even held to be incapable of
holding high offices of State. Naaman, the leper, com-
manded" the armies of Syria, and the King of Syria
worshipped leaning on his arm. In almost every other
Eastern land lepers ate at the public table, and were
admitted to the public service. And even in Judea the
foreign leper was expressly excluded from the scope of
the Mosaic law, and even the native leper was freely
handled by the priests, whose duty it was to examine
and to pronounce upon his case.
I. But if this law was not a sanitary precaution, What
was it ? It was a living s}inbolism, an acted parable.
It was one of many illustrations of a principle which
pervades the whole Mosaic Code. According to that
code, whatever spoke of death spoke of sin ; whatever
was related to death — as a grave, a bier, a corpse, and
even the appliances of a sick bed — was ceremonially un-
clean : to touch it was to become unclean. Logically
carried out, the principle involved the uncleanncss of
every kind of disease to which man is liable. But in his
mercy God selected one form of disease, one out of
many, and stamped this as unclean, as unfitting men for
the society of a holy people and the services of a holy
place, that He might thus mark his abhorrence of all the
forms which bear witness to the power of death and sin.
BE CLEAN!
Just as He set apart one meal to sanctify all meals, and
one day to hallow every day ; just as He took the first-
fruits to assert his claim to the entire harvest, and the
firstborn to assert his claim to the entire family, so also
He selected one disease for a public condemnation in
order to disclose his anger against that root of evil from
which all diseases spring.
And, as might have been expected, He chose for this
purpose one of the most frightful and loathsome forms of
disease. Leprosy was a living death. It was a gradual
and horrible dissolution, the body rotting out of the
grave instead of in it. And it was wrapt in a mystery
which made it still more dreadful. No man could tell
how, or why, it came ; it was whoU}' bej-ond the reach of
medical science and art. When the King of Damascus
sent Naaman to the Jewish king for cure, Joram was
dismayed and cried out, "Am I X]od, to kill and to make
alive, that this man doth send unto me to recover a man
from his leprosy?" In that age at least it seemed as
impossible to cure a Itpcr as to quicken life in the
dead.
The leper, then, bearing about in himself the outward
signs of human guilt, though not necessarily of his own
guilt, was a living and ghastly parable of the death which
Sin, when it is mature, brings forth. With bare head, and
rent garments, garments rent as for one dead, and raising
his mournful cry, " Unclean," unclean ! " as often as he
12? THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
approached the haunts of men, he mourned for himself
as one already cut off from the land of the living. He
was cut off from life, however great his gifts, however
lofty his position. Even Miriam the prophetess, even
Uzziah the valiant and sagacious king, were shut out
from camp and city. So impressively were the Jews
taught — and we are taught through them — that sin
worketh death, and that the death of sin excludes men
from the pure and happy kingdom of God.
The law, I said, was a cruel law. Does it look more
merciful now, now that we know that it was not meant
for a sanitary precaution, but for a religious parable? Is
it like God, and his mercy, thus heavily to afflict one
man fbr the instruction, for the good, of his neighbours }
Well, yes ; I think it is. Vicarious suffering is a
common, a universal, law of human life. We suffer for
the sins of our fathers, of our children, of our statesmen
and rulers, of our customers and servants, and even for
the sins of those of our neighbours with whom we have
no special and intimate relation. In a sense far closer
and other than the Roman meant, " Nothing human is
alien to us." If for, and by, the sins of men a war is
waged in France, in Germany, in America, in India, or
even in some small island of a distant sea, we here in
England suffer from it, and suffer just where some of us
are most keenly sensitive, in the pocket. Is it not hard
that we should suffer for sins not our own, when wc have
BE CLEAN/ 123
so many of our own for which to suffer ? It is hard ; but
it may be very wholesome for us nevertheless. liy suffer-
ing for the sins of others, we may be delivered from our
own sins. W'e may be taught to hate and renounce
them ; and it is worth while to suffer if, by suffering, we
may be redeemed from the power and yoke of sin or be
made perfect in holiness. The Lord Jesus suffered for
the sins of the whole world. Was not that hard ? Yet
even He was made perfect by the things which He
suffered ; and, for that joy, He despised the cross. Shall
we fret at our cross, if it will help to make us partakers
of his holiness and perfection .? Shall even the leper fret
at /lis cross ?
If this life were all, the leper under the Mosaic law,
smitten with a foul and cruel disease for no fault of his
own, and then cast out from their fellowship by the xcry
men for whose instruction he was smitten, might well
account himself the most miserable of men, and the
more miserable because the most unjustly used. If you
could go to him and say : " Sir, do not be cast down ;
do not murmur and complain. True, you have to suffer
the ravages of a most loathsome disease, and even to be
despised and rejected by those whom you teach and
warn. Still you do teach them. You are an incarnate
parable. You make men dread the sin which bears such
deadly fruit." If you were to say that, it would seem
very cold comfort to him, would it not ^ Yes, at first
124 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
perhaps ; but the more he thought of it, and in propor-
tion as there were any noble and heroic elements in his
nature, any willingness to suffer for the good of others,
any of that altruism which our very Agnostics proclaim
to be the chief virtue of man, your comfortable words
would gather warmth and inspiration, and prove to be the
most comfortable he could hear. And, then, if you could
point him to the Man of men, and tell him how Christ
came down from heaven to suffer for us all, to do, in
fact, the very work which he, the poor leper, was doing
in his measure ; if you could also talk to him of the per-
fection which comes through suffering, of the great and
high rewards which God bestows on as many as toil and
endure for the sake of others, you might breathe a very
pure and noble ambition into him : if he were a genuinely
good man, he might even become a willing sacrifice that
he might serve God and his neighbours, and so win Hfe
from his very death. But he vnist be a very good mian :
for which of us would be content to become a leper that,
through us, God might teach and bless our fellows ?
Which of us would willingly hang on a cross that we
might fill up that which is left of Christ's affliction for
the .salvation of the world ? We should think such a lot
very hard ; and yet it might be a far more good and
glorious lot than any we should choose for ourselves.
And so, no doubt, many of the Jewish lepers thought
theirs a cruelly hard fate, and failed to get from it
BE CLEAN! 125
cither the good, or the honour, they mij^ht liavc got
from it.
If they did, who are we that wc should censure and
condemn them? Few of our greatest or most painful
sacrifices arc made quite voluntarily or cheerfully, though
wc may be very thankful for them when they arc past,
or when we have learned to bear them and to get the
good of them. If God send us a deforming accident,
or a keen yet abiding pain, or a great loss, or a deep
wound to the heart, or even any little fret and worry in
our business or our home life, our first thought is not
always, " Here is an opportunity of serving God and
man. If I take my trial patiently, bravel}', chcerfull}-,
I shall help my neighbours to believe that there is a real
power in religion, and dispose them to trust in God and
to bow to his high Will." That is not often our first
thought, I fear, though it may be our last. We fret,
we cry out ; both our courage and our patience fail us ;
we think no one was ever so ill-used as wc ; our own
troubles engross us, though we know, in our calmer
moods, that many of our neighbours have still heavier
troubles to bear ; our burden absorbs our whole atten-
tion, and wc have no ej^e for the blessing which is hidden
in it and conveyed by it. It takes long for us to compose
and adjust ourselves to our task, and to live out a
religious parable for the teaching of our fellows. And
it takes still longer for us to account it an honour that
126 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
we should be thought worthy to suffer for the glory of
God and for the good of men.
Yet we call and profess ourselves Christians, and that
quite sincerely. And Christians are men and women
who are animated by the spirit of Christ and walk even
as He walked. He became a curse for the world. He
came to his own, and his own received Him not. He
was despised and rejected by the very men He came to
teach and to save. And if any man have not the spirit
of Christ, he is none of his. If we do not suffer with
Him, we cannot reign with Him.
2. We fall short of the Perfect Man, then. We also
fall short of very imperfect men. For here, in our story,
is a leper who wished indeed to be cleansed from his
leprosy, as was natural and right ; but who, nevertheless,
was content to remain a leper if Christ thought that
best, which, though right, was surely something more
than natural. " Full of leprosy," he draws near to Jesus
with the cry, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me
clean." And this cry was the utterance of an astonishing
and sublime faith. For, consider. The Lord Jesus had
not long commenced his public ministry. He had only
just delivered the Sermon on the Mount. He had not
fully shewed Himself unto Israel. The leper could not
possibly have heard many of his words, or have seen
many of his works. He may have sat on the mountain,
apart from the groups which gathered immediately round
BE CLEAN f 127
Jesus, and have heard the divinest wonls which ever fell
from human lips. Ikit a ^neat multitude had also heard
them. Yet none but the leper seems to have felt that
lie who spake as never man spake must be more than
man, the Lord from heaven. He, however, does not
hesitate to address Christ as "LORD;" nay, he "wor-
ships" this " lord " as God. He kneels down and falls
down (Luke v. 12) on his face before Him, as though
seeing in Him a divine and insufferable majesty. And
his words are of a piece with his worshii) : " If thou wilt,
thou canst make me clean." He has no doubt of Christ's
po'iocr to heal a disease which yet was bex'ond the scope
of human power. Nor does he doubt, as our English
translation seems to imply, Christ's ivillingncss to heal
and bless him. He rather, as the Greek conveys, recog-
nizes the perfect grace of Christ's will : he is sure that
Christ will heal him if it is good for him to be healed.
He knows that only an exertion of that omnipotent will
is requisite, and that that Will always stands at the
giving point. But he is humble; he distrusts himself
and his own wisdom : what Jic thinks good may not be
good for him after all. And so he refers himself solely
to the pure and kindly will of Christ, leaves the decision
to Him, and is prepared to accept it whatever it may be.
This, surely, was nothing short of a sublime act of
faith in one so miserable and, comparativeK-, so untaught.
Yet, as we know, this attitude of perfect faith, this
128 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
cheerful and unforced accord of our will with the Divine
Will, is the true posture of devotion. For faith is not
a mere recognition of Divine truths and realities. It is
not a careless, or even a careful, acceptance of dogma.
It is a profound personal trust in Christ, or in God, a
perfect acquiescence in his will as a good and kind will,
an entire content with his ordinance for us, whatever the
form it may take. We may accredit all that the Bible
contains, and all that theologians have drawn out of it
or put into it. We may observe all the ordinances
and sacraments of the Church, and be very zealous in
the service of its institutions ; but we have neither the
true faith nor the true devotion until our will coalesces
with the will of God, runs into it and becomes one with it.
This ignorant and miserable outcast puts us all to
shame. He is content to bear and do Christ's will
even though it should leave him still bound in the chains
of pain and death and shame; while we too often cannot
submit to that will, or cannot cheerfully submit to it, if
our nerves ache, or a neighbour speaks irritably to us
or we are called to endure some loss or suffering which
cannot for a moment be compared to the leper's living
death.
3. And if the leper puts us to shame, how much more
does Christ the Healer! "Moved with compassion, he
put forth his hand and touched him." Now to touch
a leper was to become a leper, in the eye of the Law and
BE CLEAN! 129
of the Priests. So that to heal a leper Christ became
a leper, just as to save sinners He who knew no sin
became sin for us !
Imagine the feeling of the leper, from whose approach
all men shrank with an instinctive and cultivated loath-
ing, when that pure and gracious Hand was laid upon
him. What comfort was in that touch, and what
promise 1 For how should Christ take him by the hand,
and not heal him ? how bid him rise, and lift him from
the dust, without also raising him from death to life?
The touch of Christ was his response to the leper's
worship ; but as he fell first on his knees, and then on
his face, the leper had uttered a pra}'er ; and his prayer
also wins a response. The prayer was, " Lord^ if thou
luilt, thou canst make vie clean" And the answer is,
" / xi'///, he thou made clean" Word answers to word ;
the response of Christ is a mere echo of the leper's
pfaycr. " Use thy will for my help, if it be thy will,"
cried the leper. " I use it," is the reply, " for it is my
will to help." " Make me clean," begged the leper; and
Christ replied, " Be thou clean." The answer is an exact
echo of the request. But the echo which the mountain
gives back to our cry is, as you must often have noticed,
calm and pure and musical, however harsh or dissonant
or strained our voice may be. Your cry or shout may
rise into a piercing scream ; but if you wait and listen,
it comes back to you with all the discord and e.xcite-
10
130 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
mcnt strained out of it, comes back at times with a
mystical force and sweetness and purity. And when
the leper heard his passionate cry come back from the
lips of Christ, must there not have been a heavenly
sweetness and power in that gracious echo ? Must he
not have wondered how his poor words should have
suddenly grown instinct with a celestial music and
energy ?
He could hear the echo to his prayer. But often, for
us at least, the heavenly response is so much more pure
and heavenly than the earthly passion of our prayer,
that we catch no echo, and feel as if our prayer had
been passed over by our God. We ask for ease, for
rest, for peace ; and God sends us trouble as the only
means to ease, toil as the path to rest, conflict as the way
to peace. And we do not recognize the echo. We said
" Ease," and the Mountain, or God from the mountain
of his holiness, answers, "Trouble"; we said "Rest,"
and the Mountain answers " Toil " ; we said " Peace,"
and the Mountain answers " Conflict." Call you that
echoing our cries ? Yes, indeed : for how can God
give us what we cannot take ? And before we can take
ease, if our ease is to be heavenly, we must pass through
many purifying troubles ; before we can find the true
rest, we must get our work done ; before we can be
at peace, we must have fought our fight and won our
victory.
BE CLEAN! 131
W'licn \vc cry, " Make us clean," God always answers,
" Be thou clean," but that is not alwa}'s the answer wc
hear or seem to hear. We often ask God to create a
clean heart within us when He can only cleanse our
hearts with a torrent of affliction or with bitter tears
of repentance. And then to our, " Make us clean," the
Mountain may seem to reply, " I send you sorrow," and
we do not at once perceive that the sorrow is a cleansing
sorrow, and that God is really answering the very prayer
wc offered.
Not always, not at once, are our prayers answered in
the very terms of our prayer. Do you suppose that this
leper had never prayed before he met Jesus ? Do you
not rather assume that his constant daily prayer had
been, " Lord, make me clean " > Noiv the echo comes
swift and clear, " ]^e thou made clean. He had never
heard such an echo before. But had his previous prayers
been left unanswered ? Unanswered ! Every one of
them had been answered. It was the answers to his
prayers which had prepared him to recognize the Christ
when He came, to fall at his feet and to call Him
•' Lord." It was the answers to his earlier prayers
which had prepared him to pray now, and had qualified
him to receive a reply which sent a new life leaping
through body and soul.
Let us take the comfort of that thought. We need it
sorelv. How often have we said, "Create a clean heart
132 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER,
in us, O God ; " or " Give us faith ; " or " Make us
pure:" and yet we are put to shame this morning by
the faith, the cheerful obedience and submission, of a
poor outcast who was content to remain a loathsome
and solitary leper if that should prove to be the Lord's
will for him. Have we prayed in vain then ? Surely
not, if our prayers have been sincere. If we have
sought the Lord by endeavour as well by prayer, we
have had our answers ; and these answers are preparing
us for a time, and for the joy of a time, when to our
" Make us clean," God will reply not by making us a
little cleaner, or by allotting us purifying sorrows and
toils and conflicts, but by making us every whit clean
and whole. As yet the Divine Mountain may have
yielded us only mysterious and doubtful replies ; but let
us still cry on in hope ; for soon the pure heavenly echo
to our best desires will fall like a celestial music on our
ears, and send the pulses of a perfect and immortal life
leaping through our souls.
THE CLEANSIXG OF THE LEPER.
II. -BE SILENT.
" And he strictly char^^^ed him, and straightway sent him out,
and saith unto him, Sec thou say nothing to any man : but go thy
way, shew thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing the
things which Moses commanded for a testimony unto them. But
he went out, and began to publish it much, and to blaze abroad
the matter, insomuch that Jesus could no more openly enter into
a city, but was without in desert places." — Mark i. 43-45.
Of the earlier verses of this story I gave you an expo-
sition hist Sunday morning. The main points of that
e.xposition were these : (i) That the Mosaic law which
banished the leper from camp and city, which condemned
him to go with bare head and rent garment, as one who
mourned his own death, and to cry, " Unclean, unclean ! "
so often as he approached the haunts of men, was not
a sanitary precaution, but a dramatic religious parable,
setting forth God's hatred fir the various forms of
disease and death which spring from sin ; that it was
but one of many illustrations of the law of vicarious
134 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
sacrifice, which constantly compels one man to suffer
for the sins of others. (2) That the faith of the leper
is a standing rebuke to our weak and imperfect faith,
since here was a man who, though he knew little of
Christ, worshipped him as the true " Lord " of men, and
was even content to remain a leper all his life if that
should be Christ's will for him. And (3) that so often
as we ask for cleansing, God echoes our prayer with
" Be thou clean ; " but that the echo is often of so pure
and heavenly a strain that we fail to recognize in it the
response to our prayer.
And now, without further preface or recapitulation, I
must ask your attention to the closing sentences of the
narrative : to our Lord's command to the leper He had
cleansed ; and to the leper's blended obedience and dis-
obedience to that command.
I. And, first, for our Lord's commmid. No sooner is
the leper cleansed than, instead of bidding him bear
witness to the grace and power by which he had been
healed, the Lord Jesus strictly, or even sternly, enjoins
him to "say nothing to any man," but to go and shew
himself to the priests "for a testimony unto them."
This is not at all the command we should have
expected ; and we cannot but ask, therefore, for the
reason of it. We should have thought that the man's
first duty was 7iot to hold his peace, but to tell every
man he met " what a great Saviour he had found," and
BE SILENT. 135
to urge them to repair to the Ilcaler, in order that they
too might be made whole. With many of us it is a
thread-bare commonplace that those who have been
saved by Christ are bound, as their first and most
urgent duty, to bear witness to his salvation, and to
bring others to the Cross in which they have found
healing and peace. Yet here, and in many similar cases,
the Lord Jesus bids the man whom He has cleansed
and saved " say nothing to any man ; " i.e., He forbids
him to publish and blaze abroad the tidings of his
salvation ; forbids him, i.e., to take the very line which
many a raw, ignorant, and unproved convert is en-
couraged to take to-day, and encouraged to take by
men who claim a special religious earnestness and zeal.
Now why was that ? Can it be that a very common
conception of Christian duty is after all inaccurate and
misleading, and that it is not every convert's first and
great duty to bear verbal witness to the Saviour who
has redeemed him? It may be that this is an inac-
curate and misleading conception of Christian duty ;
and for myself I think it is. But, assuredly, there were
other reasons for our Lord's prohibition ; and it may be
well to look at these first.
Doubtless one reason why our Lord enjoined silence
on many of those whom He had healed was, that He
did not as yet wish to draw on Himself the public
attention. He came not to strive, and cry, and make
136 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
his voice heard in the streets. It was perilous to the
higher objects of his mission that the people of Galilee,
ignorant and sensual in their thoughts, as they neces-
sarily were, should crowd round Him, and try to make
Him by force the sort of King He would not be. And
therefore, for a time, He set Himself to repress the
eager zeal of his converts and disciples. He desired to
go quietly about his work, sowing seeds of truth and
grace which might hereafter bring forth fair fruit abun-
dantly. When " his own " had been prepared to receive
Him, then, but not before. He would court the publicity
from which as yet He shrank. It was not that He had
anything to hide, but that He had so much to do, so
much that could not be done amid glare and noise.
Another and more special reason for his prohibition
in the case before us was, that He wished the leper to
discharge a special duty: viz., to bear a "testimony to
the priests," For Christ cared for the absent priests, in
distant Jerusalem, no less than for the leper's immediate
neighbours of Galilee. And the testimony He wished
to send them could hardly have failed to make a deep
and auspicious impression on their minds. As yet they
were prejudiced against Jesus of Nazareth. Almost all
they knew of Him was the divine indignation, the
prophetic authority, with which He had driven the
brokers from the Temple. They thought of Him as
a zealot, a fanatic, who had swept away corruptions at
BE SILENT. \yj
which they had connived, by which they had profited.
Probably they feared that He might set Himself to
destroy, rather than to fulfil, the Mosaic law, or that
He might undermine their authority with the people.
In the earlier part of his ministry, you must remember,
men's thoughts of Jesus were unformed, fluid, indefinite.
No class or faction had pronounced cither for or against
Him. The priests, possibly, a little suspected and
feared Him — priests commonly do fear originality and
zeal : but some of them had been impressed by his
words and bearing and claims ; while others, who cared
very little whether He was or was not the Messiah,
waited to sec whether it would not be wise to take Him
up and use Him as a political tool. And Jesus cared
for them all ; He would fain have brought them all to
a knowledge of the truth and a better mind.
Now if the leper had done as he was bid, if he had
held his peace, if he had gone straight to Jerusalem and
told the priests that Jesus had sent him to them in order
that they might examine him by the Mosaic tests and
say whether he was clean, and if he had taken them the
offerings which Moses had commanded the cleansed
leper to present before the Lord, he would have carried
them " a testimony " which could hardly have failed to
produce a happy effect on their minds. F'or they con-
fessed that leprosy was a disease quite beyond mortal
reach, which only God could arrest. If, then, they were
138 THE CLEANSING OF THE LEPER.
satisfied that Jesus had healed this Galilean, that at his
mere word the leper's tainted flesh and rotting bones
had taken new vigour and freshness, they might have
felt that God must be with the Man who had wrought
so great a cure, and have scrupled to oppose Him. At
the lowest, they would have been prepossessed in his
favour.
This favourable impression would have been vastly
strengthened by the fact that He, who had cleansed the
leper, recognized their position and authority, that He
had sent the leper to tJiern, with the customary gifts,
that they might certify him to be clean in the usual
form. His deference to their priestly authority could
hardly have failed to propitiate them. His deference
to the law of Moses might have led those who sat in
Moses' chair to indulge the hope that He was bent on
establishing the law, not on making it void.
So that had the leper forthwith obeyed the command
of Christ, he would, in two ways, have carried a very
impressive "testimony" to the priests. First, his very
healing would have testified that Jesus of Nazareth
wielded a divine power ; and, then, the deference of
Jesus to the law and to the priesthood would have pre-
disposed them in his favour. But, obviously, much of
the effect of the man's testimony would depend on his
full and instant obedience. If he lingered in Galilee, or
on the way ; if, instead of carrying the news straight to
BE SILENT. 139
the priests, he prated to every man he met ; if thus,
long before he reached them, they heard confused and
misleading rumours of the miracle, his message would
lose much of its value. Till the priests had pronounced
him clean, moreover, he was a leper in the eye of the
law ; he had no right to enter the cities and talk with
men. If he broke the law, if he delayed to present
himself to the constituted authorities, if he assumed that
he was clean before they pronounced him clean, they
would infer that both he and his Healer were wanting in
respect both to them and to the law they were appointed
to administer. All the grace, all the courtesy and defe-
rence, of our Lord's act would be cast away.
It uorks of God should be made manifest in him." Just
as by the grave of Lazarus Christ proved Himself to be
1 82 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
" the Resurrection and the Life " of all men, by raising
one dead man to life, so He now proves Himself "the
Light " of all men, by giving light to one who sat in
darkness.
This was the deed in which He clothed and vindicated
his word. This was the work by which He proved Him-
self to be " the Light indeed." For in this single case
Christ revealed a general law. He taught us, as I
shewed you last Sunday, what God's purpose is in per-
mitting evil and imperfection to come on men. Any
one of God's works reveals the law of his working — his
method, his purpose and aim. And, therefore, this work
throws light on all similar and related cases. It teaches
us the true function of evil. It brings us the welcome
assurance that God uses the very evil He hates for our
greater good ; that even through this dark cloud He
causes the beams of his righteousness and mercy to
shine.
I. It is here, at this point of the story, that my text
comes in. Christ is about to " make manifest the works
of God ; " to shew, in one crucial instance, what God
is always doing for men through the miseries they
endure. And as the purpose rises on his mind, he is
conscious that to manifest the works of God is his sole
and constant mission on the earth, and says, " I must
work the works of Him that sent me." A sacred
necessity was upon Him. He did not choose his own
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 183
way, nor his own tasks. They were appointed for Him.
To this end had He come into the world, that He mi^'ht
shew and declare the Father, that He might reveal the
mind and will of God, so reveal them as to convince
men of the absolute goodness of his will, and that his
mind was a light in which there was no darkness nor
shadow cast by turning.
The work of Christ, therefore, was, on his own shewing,
to manifest the works of God, to make them apparent
and impressive. According to his own conception of
his mission. He was to do plainly and visibly what God
is always doing in a more secret and reserved way. It
was his task to draw aside the veil of secondary causes
and general laws behind which God and his working are
commonly hidden from our eyes, and to shew, in one
superb demonstration, what God is for ever doing for
our welfare and redemption.
New there are few thoughts, even in the New Testa-
ment itself, of graver moment or happier significance
than this. It is ///// of light and comfort when once
we master it. Take an illustration of it, then. There
are certain gases — oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen — each
of which, taken singly, is fatal to human life ; and yet
these very gases, variously combined, are essential to
human life. Blended in one proportion, they make the
air we breathe ; blended in another proportion, they
make the water we drink. For the most part we breathe
184 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
the pure aii and drink the Y\\\x\% water without any-
thought of the Eternal Wisdom and Goodness which
supply these gases in due proportion, and which cun-
ningly blend elements, each of which is by itself fatal
to life, into the very necessaries of life. This constant
marvel, which transcends all miracles, is concealed from
us by the very constancy of the laws or methods by
w hich it is produced. But one day a man of science
visits us. He brings these gases with him, and shews
us how fatal they are, in their separate forms, to animal
life. He tells us in what proportions they must be com-
bined in order to sustain the life they would else destroy.
He makes his experiments, and from a due intermixture
of these gases he produces an air we can breathe, pre-
cipitates a water we can drink. In short, ]ie makes
Dianifesi to ns the works of God, the works that God is
always doing, and by which the whole fabric of Nature
is redeemed, moment by moment, from destruction.
In like manner Christ came to manifest the woiks of
God in a region higher than that of physical life, in the
moral and spiritual order of the universe. From the
beginning God has been ordering human life, so ordering
and combining elements in it, which else were fatal, as
to compe^ them to minister to human welfare. But, for
the most part, though men are conscious of a certain dis-
cipline in the pain and sorrow and loss by which their
sins and faults are corrected, and therefore of a certain
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 185
benefit which they derive from them ; though they admit
that on the whole their life is wisely ordered, they do not
see who it is that is for ever evolving good from ill, or
that He is redeeming them from the'power and bondage
of evil by the miseries of their self-induced captivity.
Therefore Christ came and dwelt among us. He came
to manifest the constant invariable will and purpose of
God ; to shew us, as in a marvellous series of experi-
ments, who it is that so blends all the moral components
of our life as to make it an advance from evil, through
pain, to good, a progress from imperfection to perfection.
We see Christ healing men of their sicknesses, feeding
them with bread, gladdening them with wine ; wc see
Him encountering all that was evil in the men around
Him with a patient goodness, and overcoming it, so that
the most sinful and despised outcasts are drawn to Him
and his salvation ; we see Him dying to give us life, and
rising from the dead that we may have life still more
abundantly. And in all this we arc to discern, not the
grace of Christ alone, but also the grace of the Father
who sent Him ; we are to behold, not simply a few
isolated acts of mercy, but, in those acts, the proof and
illustration of an eternal Mercy, of a Loving-kindness
ever at work for our redemption. For a few brief
months Christ did "the works of Him that sent" Him,
did them visibly, plainly, so that men could not fail to
?ec them, in order that we might learn once for all what
1 86 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND,
God's works are, and have been, and will be, through all
the ages of time, and be sure that God is what Christ
ivas, and is doing what Christ did. He shewed us the
Father, and made his works manifest.
How reasonable and welcome a light this conception
of our Lord's mission casts on the miracles He wrought,
the more reflective of you will see at a glance. The
Power that upholds Nature, and works through it, can be
no part of nature, must be supernatural. And if Christ
came to reveal this supernatural Power to us, to make
its works manifest, does not reason itself demand that
He should do supernatural works .-* How else could He
** make manifest " the supernatural power of God ?
But, to the heart, this conception, Christ's own con-
ception of his own mission, speaks even more potently
than to the reason. For if God is doing for us now, and
always, exactly what Christ did for the infirm, the sin-
ful, the lost and miserable, whom He met in Galilee and
Judea ; if He only "made manifest " the constant works
of his Father, which of us may not hope to find in God a
mercy patient of all our offences, strong enough to deliver
us from all our sins, liberal enough to supply all our
wants ? If God will treat iis as the man Christ Jesus
treated the diseased and guilty outcasts on whom He
laid his kindly hands, sending them from Him cured and
saved, who need despair whether of himself or of his
neighbours ? God ivill treat us thus ; for in shewing pity
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 187
to the sick and sinful Christ was simply manifesting the
works of God.
2. But there is a second thought in this passage which
needs to be made clear. He who said, " I must work
the works of him that sent me," added, " ivhile it is day I'
and explained, ''for the night comcth in ivhich no man can
work : so long as I am in the ivorUi, I am the light of the
world.'"
The main flow of thought in these words is clear
enough. For, obviously, He who both works the works
of God and makes them manifest must be the Light of
the world, since He enables men to see the very facts
and truths they most need to know.
Nor are the words difficult in themselves. We may
easily catch and follow their meaning. For it was prob-
ably late in the afternoon when Jesus closed his discourse
in the temple. And as He stood at the gate, looking at
the blind man, the sinking sun would naturally suggest
that another day's toil was nearly over, and lead Him to
compare his whole life on earth to a day that must soon
close. In the temple the Jews had taken up stones to
stone Him. And He foresaw that before long they
would have their wa}-, that they would compass the
death they had already attempted. Nay, He knew that
He could not make the works of God manifest, that He
could not shew forth the fulness of the divine redeeming
Love, except as He tasted death for every man, and by
1 88 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
death conquered for us, as well as for Himself, him that
had the power of death. He knew that his time on earth
was short, that the day would soon be over : and hence
He said, " I must work the works of Him that sent me,"
— must, whatever the hazard to which it exposes me.
The day will soon end ; and no faithful worker will
cease from his task till the night fall. So long as I am
in the world I must prove myself the Light of the world ;
I must shine ; and, by shining, make the works of God
manifest.
The words are simple enough, and the thought they
express is also simple, natural, and pathetic. And,
though two figures are employed, there is no confusion
of figures to bewilder us. Christ says that He was the
Light of the world, and that He worked in the world of
which He was the light. But what more efficient and
untiring worker is there on any day than the Sun which
makes and rules the day? His light and heat travel
over the whole earth, quickening and nourishing innu-
merable forms of life and beauty. Hence there is no
incongruity in our Lord's comparing Himself at once to
the sun which gives light to all the world and to the
labourer who toils on till the day is done. The sun is
a labourer. Christ was both a labourer and a light, a
labourer because He was a light.
What difficulty there is in the passage springs, not
I'rom its words or figures, but from the questions which
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 189
the words suggest. As we consider them, we cannot but
ask : " Did Christ, the Worker, cease to work, when his
day on earth was spent ? Did Christ, the Sun, cease to
shine when He left the world ? Is it not true, rather,
that He never worked to such purpose as in and after
the night of his death? that He never shone with such
quickening heat as when He left the world, and rose to
heaven, and shed down his Spirit on the waiting and
expectant Church?" We know how such questions
must be answered. We know that there never was a
night in which Christ could not and did not work ; and
that He is still the Light of the world, though He is no
longer in the world.
But if we look carefully at the phrases, " I must work
while it is day," and, "The night cometh when no man
can work," are we bound to take them as meaning that
Christ was about to exchange day for a night in which
He could do no manner of work ? May we not, rather,
take them as meaning that no man, who has not done
the work of the day during the day, can do that work at
night } Other men may work on other days ; on other
days he himself may do other works. Rut the work of
the day must be done in the day : he who fails to do it
then cannot do it afterward. Opportunities have gone
that can never be recalled ; tasks have been neglected
which will never come into his hands again. And, there-
fore, so long as the Light of the world was in the world,
I90 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
his work for the day was to give light ; and that day's
work must be done then. No opportunity, no such
opportunity as this at the temple gate, must be let slip.
This is one sense in which we may interpret our Lord's
words. We may take them to mean, not that all work
would be impossible when the night of death fell, but
only that the work proper to his day on earth must be
done while He was on the earth. And this interpreta-
tion is confirmed as we consider the figures He employs.
He compares Himself to the Sun. But is the sun put
out when the night comes ? No, all that happens is that
the world turns from the sun. The light is not obscured
or lessened in volume, much less extinguished. It shines
on with unabated force, though the averted face of the
earth is no longer illumined by its rays. When the night
comes, is all the earth dark ? No, only half the earth ;
the sun quits one hemisphere to shine upon the other.
When the night comes, does the sun cease to work even
on the hemisphere it has left ? No, the light and heat
which it has poured down during the day are treasured
in the earth, which remains the warmer because the sun
has shone upon it, and in the trees and flowers, which
grow faster by night than by day. And from all these
analogies we may infer that when Christ, the Light of
the world, left the world. He rose on other and larger
spheres, turned his face on other worlds and systems ;
we may infer that when He does not shine on one part
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 19 r
of the earth, it is that He may visit other parts — leaving
Judea for Greece, for Italy, for Kngland ; and that even
when He does not shine in full-orbed splendour on us,
the influences of his loving-kindness and truth may
remain with us, to make us fruitful in good works. No,
Christ did not cease to labour when He was shrouded in
the night of death. He went and preached to the spirits
in prison. He ascended into heaven, and poured down
the gifts of his Spirit on the very men who, with lawless
hands, had slain their Lord and Chrisi. And to this day
He still works and shines, and is still redeeming men
from their thraldom to evil into the freedom and peace
of an obedient and holy life.
There is a great wealth of ethical suggestion in my
text when once we understand it ; but let us take only
its simplest and most obvious lesson : — The work of the
day must be done in the day. To Christ it was impossible
to neglect any opportunity of manifesting the mercy and
compassion of God, or to use any such opportunity with-
out remembering that this was the great work of his
life. The Jew--, who had sought to stone Him, were still
raging against Him in the courts and colonnades of the
temple. He has just escaped from their hands. At any
moment they may come pouring through the gate in
pursuit of Him. lUit there, on the steps leading up to
the gate, lies a blind man, to whom He may manifest
the will and work of God. The claim is imperative.
192 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
And He meets it as calmly, as graciously, as if no danger
were near.
Would that ive could carry about with us this constant
and happy sense of duty ! It was no burden to Christ ;
it was his strength : for as He went about his Father's
business He knew that no enemy could prevail against
Him, nor "that fell sergeant, Death," arrest Him, until
He had finished the work his Father had given Him to
do. Why, then, should the sense of duty lie so heavily
on us ? Why should it not be our strength and inspira-
tion ?
Would that ive could see in every opportunity of
shewing mercy and doing kindness a part of the great
and lifelong work assigned us, and feel that we dare not
let it pass, since it will never come again ! As we recall
the past, how many such irretrievable opportunities have
we to grieve over as lost, and lost for ever ! When the
work of our life comes to be summed up, how poor and
imperfect will it be as compared with what it might have
been had we never let occasion slip !
Let us take the warning, then. The work of the day
must be done in the day. The night cometh in which
we can do no part of the work that ought to have been
done in the day of life ; the night on which we must part
with the money we did not use for the good or relief of
our fellows, and the business in which we did not glorify
God by our integrity and our generous consideration for
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 193
Others, and the home in which our example did not
always tell for good, and the Church which wc did little
to serve perhaps, or little as compared with what we
should like to remember then. For some of us the clock
of time has already given its warning click, and the hour
will soon strike : while to none of us can the hour be
very distant in which wc shall wish that, while we were
in the world, wc had done more and better in it and for
it. Doubtless even the night of death will bring us tasks
of its own ; but it will not bring back the tasks and
opportunities we neglected during the day. Nor shall
we be so well prepared for a faithful and happy discharge
of the tasks that await us in death and beyond it as we
should have been had we discharged the tasks of life
with a constant fidelity. Let us be up and doing, then.
Let us redeem the time that is left. So long as we are
in the world let us labour to serve and bless the world,
ever working the works of Him that sent us ; that so
when the night falls and our work is over, we may hear
the Master's " Well done," and enter into the joy of our
Lord.
H
XIV.
THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND,
in.— THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN.
** When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made
clay of the spittle, and anointed the eyes of the blind man with the
clay, and said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam (which is
by interpretation. Sent). He went his way therefore, and washed,
and came seeing." — John ix. 6^ 7.
Tradition reports that an Eastern prince came from
afar to King Solomon, to ask of him a word, or maxim,
that would make him strong in misfortune and humble
in prosperity ; and that Solomon the Wise gave him
this maxim : " Even this also zvill pass away''' And,
indeed, he who is heartily persuaded that even the
darkest day of adversity must come to an end, and
that even the brightest sun of prosperity must set, may
well be strong in patience and in humility. But there
are some calamities so severe, and apparently so hope-
less, that, to these, Solomon's maxim seems inapplicable.
If, for example, any one had said to the man who was
THE CURE OF THE BUND MAN. 195
blind from his birth, "Be patient, Sir, for even this
calamity will pass away," it is by no means likely that
he would have derived much comfort from the saying.
And yet, through the grace of Christ, even this appa-
rently hopeless misfortune did pass away, and he " came
seeing" who before was blind.
Nay, more : our Lord Himself assures us that his case
is not an exception to the rule — that even the worst
miseries of time will come to an end — but an illustration
of it. He assures us that calamity of every kind falls on
men, not simply because they have sinned, but also that
the works of God should be " made manifest in them,"
that through their very calamities they may rise into a
clearer perception of God's will, and a happier participa-
tion of his goodness. He teaches us that God is forever
doing invisibly what He Himself did visibly while He
was on earth, giving eyes to the blind, and ears to the
deaf, and feet to the lame, and life to the dead : He
teaches, in short, that in the whole ministry of his gracious
and redeeming life He was simply doing the works of
Him that sent Him, simply shewing men what God is
always doing in secret for their welfare and redemption.
That the mission of Christ was to declare the Father
and to manifest his works was our theme last Sunday
morning. And now we meet a new illustration of this
theme as we proceed to consider the means by which
Christ gave the blind man sight. Here, once more, He
196 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
manifests the works of God. Here, too, He puts the
bhnd man's faith to the test.
I. Let us, first, consider this manifestation of the works
of God. When He would cure the blind man, Jesus
mixes spittle and clay — or, [generalizing the terms. He
mixes water and earth — anoints the man's eyes, and bids
him go and wash in the pool of Siloam. Now it is very
obvious that no one of these means had in itself a suffi-
cient virtue to cure a congenital blindness. Neither then,
nor now, would a man born blind gain sight merely by
having clay put on his sightless eyeballs and by washing
in the sacred Spring. It was the power put forth by
Christ, it was the volition of his gracious will, that gave
the clay and the water their healing virtue. And by tell-
ing us that in infusing this virtue into the clay and the
water He was doing the will of Him that sent Him and
manifesting the works of God, Christ meant, of course,
that it is God who is for ever healing men, not only by
the medicinal virtues He infuses into air and water, and
the vegetable and mineral products of the earth, but also
by the gracious and curative volitions of his almighty
will. What He means is that God is always doing
invisibly what He then did before the eyes of men. Just
as He elsewhere teaches us that men do not live by
bread alone, but by the quickening and creative word of
God, by the secret effluences of his living Will which
come to us in and through the food we eat, so, here. He
THE CURE OF THE BUND MAN. 197
teaches us that men are healed, not by drugs and medi-
cine alone, but by the volitions of that Will which gives
being and efficacy to all things.
According to Him, in short, we owe life and all that
nourishes life, health and all that promotes or restores
health, not merely to the natural processes of which
Sciences takes account, but also to the Divine energy
which works in and through them. And thus He com-
pels us to choose between the two theories of Nature,
the material and the spiritual, which have long divided
the thoughts of men.
According to the material theory. Nature is simply a
vast complex of physical forces acting on fixed and in-
variable laws. There is no Spirit informing and animating
the universal frame. There is no God in Nature and
above it, working through it, controlling, modifying, en-
forcing its laws. But no sooner do we carefully examine
this theory than it instantly reveals the gravest and most
surprising defects. Glibly as we talk of " causes " and
" forces " and " laws," Science knows of no final and
sufficient cause, no force which is more than an hypo-
thesis, no law which has any power to assert itself All
it knows is certain sequences which reveal themselves
invariably in the phenomena and course of Nature, and
which seem as if some rule or law had been laid down
which they are compelled to observe. But as to who, or
what, laid down that law and enforces it. Science has no
1 98 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
word to say. It speaks, indeed, and, owing to the im-
perfection of human language, vmst speak of the force,
or law, of gravitation in the inorganic universe, and
speaks of it at times as if it were the cause of certain
phenomena ; but question any man of Science, and he
will tell you that it is not a true cause, but simply
an hypothesis, a generalization, which best accounts
for the facts which Science has observed. So, again,
with the chemical laws of affinity and repulsion. These
are not real forces or causes, they are simply certain
modes or sequences in which the chemical phenomena
present themselves to the human mind. So, too, the
vital processes of the human frame seem to indicate the
presence of a vital force which acts according to certain
rules ; but no man has yet discovered this force, or can
explain its origin, or even say in what it consists. Things
happen so, is all that Science can say ; but tvJiy they
happen so, or zvJio or what it is that makes tJiem happen
so, are questions beyond its reach.
There are, indeed, men of science who assume that
physical phenomena can have none but physical causes.
But, so far as I can see, this assumption carries them
beyond their proper province, and flics in the face of
experience as well as of religion. Religion teaches us
that God is immanent in Nature ; that in Him, and by
Him, and for Him, all things consist ; that He is the
first great Cause ; that it is his will which gives vitality
THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN, 199
and cflficacy to all the processes of Nature and of human
life. And does not our experience, so far as it goes, con-
firm the teaching of religion? does it not prove that all
the so-called forces and laws of Nature may be modified
and controlled by a personal will ? We do not enough
consider the vast extent to which the volitions of man's
will control and modify the course of Nature, what enor-
mous and almost incredible changes they have produced
and are still producing throughout the world. Left to
itself, i.e., left to the unchecked operation of Nature,
England might have been a mere jungle, or forest,
haunted by wild beasts. But for centuries the will of
man has been at work upon it, gradually uprooting the
herbs and t/ees which were of no service or of little
service to the race, and replacing them with fruitful trees
and a waving wealth of corn. The wild beasts, noxious
to man, have been tamed or extirpated ; breeds have
been crossed and developed, till our modern horse, or ox,
or sheep, or dog, is as superior to the original stock as a
field of pedigree wheat to wild corn. Man has hewed
and blasted the rocks, and compelled them to yield their
treasures of stone for his service, and has burned the clay
of the fields into bricks, that he might build houses and
streets, palaces and temples. He has rifled the bowels
of the earth of its hidden wealth of iron and coal, and
turned them to the uses of industry in a thousand different
forms. He has made the very elements his servants, and
200 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
the lightnings his messengers, compelling them to draw
his loads, turn his looms, drive his ships, and convey his
thoughts to the ends of the earth. Can any man survey
tliis changed and wealthy England of ours, and mark
how the will of man has modified and controlled the
course of Nature over every inch of it, and say that
material phenomena can have none but material causes ;
unless indeed he assume man's will to be itself material,
• — in which case the universal human consciousness rises
in revolt against him ? Can any one note in how many
ways man has learned to rule Nature by submitting to
her, and then affirm that almighty God, Maker of heaven
and earth, if there be such a God, cannot possibly be the
central and final cause of all that exists? Does not
reason, does not common sense, suggest that, if the puny
will of man has done so much, the almighty will of God
may have done infinitely more ?
Nay, does not the assumption that it is the will of God
which acts through all the phenomena of the universe,
giving life to all that lives, giving efficiency and law to
all the processes of the inorganic world, supply the very
defect of which Science is conscious ? Does it not supply
that true cause, that real force, that vital energy, of which
Science finds so many indications, but which it is never-
theless unable to discover?
Yes ; to this conclusion must even science come at
last. It will find the cause, the forces, the laws of
THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN.
vvhicli it speaks in the will of God. It will sec Him
in Nature, the Source and Fountain of all being, of all
life. So at least ive must believe, if we accept Christ as
our Teacher. For He affirms that in healing the blind
man, as in all his works of mercy. He was but making
manifest the works of God — doing publicly what God
is always doing privily, declaring and demonstrating his
Father to be the Maker, Controller, and Sustainer of all
things, whether in heaven or on earth.
2. But let us turn to our second point, and mark how
the blind man's faith was put to the test. He had heard
what Christ said to the Disciples before He spake to
Jiini. He had heard, therefore, that Christ was about to
work a work of God. He had heard that Christ was
" the light of the world," and had probably inferred that
Christ was about to prove Himself the Light of all men,
by giving light to him. But Christ does not straight-
way give him light. He hints, indeed, that a cure was
about to be wrought by anointing the blind eyes : even
the "spittle" would convey a hope of cure, since human
saliva was then accounted medicinal in many cases of
blindness. And yet to daub the eyes with clay would
seem more likely to cause blindness than to cure it.
And no special medicinal value was attributed to the
Pool of Siloam. To bid the blind man go, with clay
plastered over his eyes, and wash it ofT in the spring
that was called Sent, was therefore to put him to the
202 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
proof: it was to try whether he had confidence enough
in Christ to do his bidding, even when He bade him
use unhkely means for the recovery of his sight We
know very well that Christ could have opened his eyes
with a word ; and hence we are compelled to believe
that He employed this singular and indirect method of
healing in order to put the man to the test. And it
speaks well for the blind man that he stood the test.
He asked no such question, raised no such objection, as
that of Naaman, the Syrian leper. He does as he is
bid without hesitation, without reluctance.
And in this he sets us an example. For when we
seek spiritual good at the hands of Christ, He often
gives us some command, or imposes some condition,
the meaning and value of which we do not discover
till we have met the condition and obeyed the command.
It would be easy to give many illustrations of this in-
direct method ; but it would be hard to find a more
pertinent illustration than one which is just now much
in the thoughts of men. The first and great command-
ment of the Gospel, as well as of the Law, is : " Thou
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and
thy neighbour as thyself." To almost every man the
commandment commends itself as the sum and sub-
stance of practical religion. And many are saying just
now : " What do we want with more than this ? What
do we want with theology } Why should we ask men
THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN. 203
to believe what ive believe about God, and Christ, and
the immortality of the soul, and the state of retribution
which lies beyond the grave ? If they love God and
man, is not that enough ? Why, then, demand more of
them ? On this point we all agree. Were we to ask
nothing more of our neighbours, we might all come into
a sacred unity. liut the very moment we bring forward
theology, and demand belief in this doctrine or that,
we divide them ; they fly apart, and unity becomes
impossible." .
This is the tone taken by many good men just now,
and which, I suppose, we are all tempted to take. Max
Miiller, for example, in a lecture on Christian Missions
which he delivered in Westminster Abbey some years
ago, affirmed that missionaries make a grave mistake
when they preach the Gospel to the heathen, when they
tell them that Christ came forth from the bosom of God
to reveal the love of God to sinful men, to redeem them
and .bring them back to Him. "'True Christianity,' he
said, ' lies not in our belief, but in our love — in our love
of God, and in our love of man, founded on our love of
God.' This rule of love would commend itself to men
of goodwill in every land, whatever the creed they hold.
Why, then, should we perplex and alienate them by
demanding faith in Christ as the Son of God and the
Saviour of the world ? Let us rather teach them that
love to God and man is the substance of all true religion."
204 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
Now, it is impossible, I think, to listen to such words
as these without a good deal of sympathy. For we too
believe that the love of God and man is the essential
substance of religion. And yet, obviously, this method
of teaching religion was not Christ's method. His first
demand of men was not love, but faith, or trust. The
angels of the Advent announced the birth of a Saviour
who should redeem men from their sins. And Christ
demanded that men should believe Him to be that
Saviour. " Believe on Me ; believe that, seeing Me, ye
see the Father ; believe that God is what I am, as kind
and merciful, as able to heal, as willing to forgive and
save : believe that I do but shew you in my works what
He is always doing for your welfare and redemption ; "
— this, as you know, was his constant claim, as it was
also the claim which his disciples made for Him. And
men did not always find it easy to meet the claim then,
any more than they do now. He was by no means
the kind of Saviour for whom they looked. It seemed
unlikely, and even incredible, that God was in Him,
reconciling the world unto Himself Yet none the less
He pressed the claim, and demanded faith of them
rather than love.
Why ? Simply, I suppose, because men would never
have known what love was like but for Him, and their
faith in Him. Had He come among us simply to j^j'
" Love God and man," and permitted men to put their
THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN. 205
own interpretation on the word " love," would the world
have hated Him as it did ? To that message the world
had listened with composure, and even with admiration,
before He came, and had been little the better for it.
It was because He shewed them what the love of God
was like — how pure and holy it was, capable of inflicting
any pain which would redeem men from their sins, and
demanded of them a love like his own, — that the world
hated Him and hung Him on a tree. He has put a
new meaning into the old commandment. He has
shewn us that the love of God will go all lengths and
endure all pains to redeem us from sin to holiness.
He has shewn us that to love God and man aright is to
be willing to lay down life itself in order to obey the
holy will of God and to serve our neighbour. And,
therefore. He demands faith of us before He demands
love — faith in the true love, faith that we may possess
ourselves of the true love. We must believe in Him,
believe in his love as at once a revelation of the love of
God and the ideal and pattern of human love, before
we can love either God or man as He would have us
love them.
This is why He demands faith, faith in Him and in
the God in Him, even before He demands love. And
all history and experience shew his method to be the
true one. Men have never yet been raised into good-
ness by the power of an ethical maxim, such as " Love
2o6 THE MAN WHO WAS BORN BLIND.
God and man " would be apart from all else that Christ
taught ; but they have often been raised to goodness by
the power of a simple and sincere faith in Him. We
want to make the command, " Thou shalt love God and
thy neighbour " the law of all human life. And, to some,
it may seem an unlikely and roundabout way of reach-
ing our end to teach that Christ came forth from the
Father to shew the Father to us, to live our life as it
ought to be lived, to die for our sins, to open heaven
and the kingdom of heaven to us ; and to insist that
men must believe all this before they can do his will.
But how shall the Buddhist, who can hardly be said to
believe in a personal God at all, or how can the Moham-
medan, who hopes that God will reward his piety with
a paradise of sensual pleasures, feel anything that we
should think worthy of the name of "love," or frame
any conception of God that will lift him out of his
sensual addictions ?
Unlikely as it may seem, then, faith, faith in Christ
as shewing God to us and making his works manifest,
is the way to love, — to that love of God and man which
is alone worthy of the name. Hence He demands faith
of every one of us ; and once more He presses this
demand on us. We must believe, if we are to be raised
into the life of righteousness and charity. We must
believe in Christ, believe in the God whom He reveals,
believe that God is ever working through all the pro-
THE CURE OF THE BLIND MAN. 207
cesses of nature, all the chanj^es of providence, all the
gifts of his grace, for our good — to nourish, and heal,
and save us. And if we sincerely believe in Him as the
Fountain of all life and goodness, it will not be hard for
us to love Him, or even to love the neighbour whom He
loves, and for whose welfare, as for ours, He is ever at
work.
XV.
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE A WARRANT
OF IMMORTALITY.
" Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own ; or is
thine eye evil because I am good?" — Matthew xx. 15.
In the Parable of which this Verse forms part we have
a twofold illustration of the inequalities of the human
lot. The first illustration is open and palpable — too
obvious for the most cursory attention to miss. A
householder, or husbandman, goes out into the market-
place early in the morning, at mid-morning, at midday,
in the afternoon, and, finally in the evening, only an
hour before the close of day, to " hire labourers into his
vineyard." The labourers, therefore, give him respec-
tively one, three, six, nine, and twelve hours' work. And
yet, when pay-time comes, they all, without distinction,
receive the same sum — the denarius which was then
thought a liberal wage for a full day's work! Those
who had toiled longest get, indeed, all that they have
earned ; but, since those who had given much less toil
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE. 2oci
get as much as they do, they, very naturally, feel them-
selves aggrieved, and hold that he, who has shewn
himself so liberal to their comrades, has been illiberal,
if not unjust, to them. If they had no claim to more
than they had received, had they not some claim to an
equality of treatment with the rest ? Did not common
fairness demand that one measure should be meted out
to them all ?
I think we must all be conscious of a certain sympathy
with these first-comers, and confess that, had we stood
in their place, while we might have admitted that we
had got all we had bargained for, our full lawful wage,
we should nevertheless have felt that we had been
hardly dealt with, in that we had not been treated as
well as the after-comers. " It is not fair," we should
have said ; and though, in our cooler after-moments we
might have acknowledged that no real wrong had been
done us, we should have stuck to our verdict, " All the
same, it wasn't fair, and we won't work for him again."
I believe we were meant to feel this inequality, and
even to resent it, at least until we come to understand
it. For ivc find, as the Hebrew Preacher found long
ago, many of these irritating inequalities in human life,
and we are just as much irritated b)' them as he was.
We feel, we cannot but feel, as he felt when he saw the
same chance happen to the evil and to the good, and
the same end come to the just and to the unjust. And
15
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
when we see tJiis man much happier, or much more
fortunate, than that, although he is not a bit better —
although perhaps he is not half so good, no, nor half so
wise or half so able — our faith in the justice of God, in
the equity of Providence, is shaken, and we are tempted
to repeat the old murmur, " The ways of the Lord are
not equal."
There is another illustration of this provoking in-
equality in our Parable which is not so obvious, but
which comes home to our hearts the very moment it is
pointed out — an illustration of the inequality of our
ivork as well as of our wages. For if at the first glance
we sympathize with the resentment of the labourers who
were earliest called into the vineyard, as we consider the
Parable we begin to pity the poor fellows who were left
standing, unhired, in the market-place till the day was
far spent, or even till it was well-nigh gone. What had
tJiey done that so hard a lot should have been assigned
to them ? There they stood, tools in hand, willing to
work, longing for work, black despair gathering in their
hearts as the day drew on, and brought no better pros-
pect than that of trudging back, empty-handed, to their
foodless homes, where patient or impatient wives awaited
them and hungry children. The more we consider their
case, and permit it to recall the many similar cases
which afflict our modern life, the more deeply we feel
the rough brutality of the husbandman's question, "Why
A WARRANT OF IMMORTALITY.
stand yc here /V/A; all the day long ?" and the infinite
pathos of their reply, " Because no man hath hired us."
And in this mood it is a welcome surprise to us to hear
the gruff but mellow-hearted husbandman commanding
his steward to pay these last the same wage as the first ;
and we are even a little angry with the very men whose
resentment we once shared. We say, " They jniist have
known how hard work was to get. They must also
have known how much harder it is to lack work than to
do it. And, therefore, they should have been the last
men in the world to grudge their unlucky rivals the little
bit of good fortune which befell them."
This, then, is a parable on the inequalities of human
life. It raises a whole class of questions — and a very
large class it is — by which we are perplexed, and moved
to distrust the providence of God, if not to challenge his
justice. Why does one man get so much more than he
deserves, and another so much less } Why is one man
happy and successful in his work from the first, while
another must wait long before he can get any remuner-
ative work to do, or has all his life long to do a work he
does not like, or a work which yields no scope for his
finer energies and capacities ? Why is one man hungry,
and another full ? Why is one man born to health and
the happy temperament which is at once a presage and
a cause of success, while another is born to sickness, or
stamped with some infirmity which curtails both his
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
power and his usefulness ? Why is one man rich in
friends, while another, comparatively poor, is called to
part even with the friend that he loves best ?
Time would fail me even to enumerate all the ques-
tions which the inequalities of the human lot provoke ;
but I have said enough if I have suggested to you how
many these questions are, and how grave. For you
must observe, further, that for many of these inequalities
we are quite unable to account. I do not deny that, in
a rough general way, every man receives according to
his deeds, according to his deserts, even here and now,
or that many of us get a great deal more than we have
deserved. Nor do I doubt that much of the good or ill
fortune, which is inexplicable to us, may be perfectly
explicable to a cool bystander, who can bring an un-
biassed eye to the problem, and see how, sometimes by
our faults and defects, and sometimes by our very
virtues, we offend the world around us, chafe against the
inexorable conditions of our lot, and work our own
harm or ensure our own defeat. But, none the less, I
maintain that, amid the infinite complexities of human
life, there are many for which we can find no law, assign
no sufficient reason, so long as we look only at the
things which are seen and temporal. History is full,
and life is full, of problems which no wisdom, unaided
by faith, can solve. The wrongs of innocence, the de-
feats of virtue, the impunity of crime, the success of
A WARRANT OF IMMORTALITY. 213
impudence, the triumph of vice ; dih'fjcnce compelled to
stand idle and starving all the day long, while indolence
is lapped in luxury ; wisdom appealing to ignorance in
vain, or casting its pearls before the herd only to be
turned upon by the herd and rent ; learning and capa-
city thrust aside by insolence and craft ; love unreturncd,
despised, or weeping by an open grave, while imperious
selfishness is caressed or waited on with timid obser-
vance ; pure religion hiding her unhonoured head in
secret places, while the temples of superstition and
hypocrisy are thronged with flatterers : — all these are
phrases which represent facts, and facts which often
lead u.s to doubt the goodness or the power of God.
And yet, mark you, you do not get rid of these facts
by doubting or denying the existence of God ; nor are
you any nearer either to a reasonable account of them
or to a balm for the wounds, a consolation for the
sorrows, they inflict. The inequalities of life do not
depend on his existence, or our recognition of his
existence. Say there is no God, and you can no longer
challenge his justice, but the injustice of which you
complain is not removed or lessened. You have not
accounted for it, or begun to account. It is no easier to
bear, or to explain. Nay, say there is no God who will
one day redress every wrong, and set all things straight,
and you simply render the case more hopeless, the
problem more insoluble, the facts more intolerable.
214 THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
And here, strange to say, we come on the true answer
to an old objection to the miracles of Christ, which it
may be worth while to notice in passing since it has been
revived and restated in one of the leading magazines for
this month.i Christ could not have wrought miracles,
we are told, or, if He did. He could not be divine,
because if He were the Son of God and wrought the
miracles attributed to Him, they would simply prove
that He coiild feed and heal us all, and save us from
pain, bereavement, and death, and yet does not care to do
it. But who doubts that God, if there be a God, could,
if He pleased, feed, heal, and deliver us all from death :
and yet does He do it ? The argument, if it proves
anything, proves that Christ zuas the Son of God, since,
possessing the same power with the Father, like the
Father He refrained from using it.
He recognized the inequalities of human life, and felt
for the pain and grief which they occasion, and yet,
except in a few isolated cases. He did not redress them.
Must He not, then, have seen some reason for them
which we do not see ? And may we not expect to find
some solution of the problem, or some glimpse of a
solution, in his words when He makes these perplexing
inequalities the main theme of his discourse ?
There is such a glimpse, I believe, in the Parable, and
' In Mr. Voysey's very crude and offensive article in The
Fortnightly for January, 1887.
A WA ERA NT OF I MM OR TALI TV. 215
even in the Verse, before us, though, I confess, it docs
not force itself on our attention.
I. Indeed the first half of this Question seems to shed
darkness on our thoughts rather than light. " Is it not
laiu/ui for vie to do what I %vill luith mine ozcn ? " — you
know to what base uses the landlord, the monopolist,
the slaveowner, the autocrat, and even the theologian,
have put this phrase. You know how fond they have
been of appealing to it : how ready to find in it a
sanction for all the abuses of wealth and power, without
any too careful investigation into what was really their
own, and in what sense it was their own. I cannot and
need not recapitulate these misapplications, or answer
them one by one. There is a common, an authoritative,
an overwhelming answer to them all in the Verse itself.
For this Verse does not consist, as we might infer from
the Authorized Version, of two questions, but of one, as
we learn from the Revised Version or from a glance at
the Original ; and that which Christ has joined together
we have no right to put asunder. The whole question
runs : " Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with
mine own, or is tJiine eye evil beeause I am good? " And
the implication is obvious to the meanest capacity. It is
only lawful for a man to do what he will with his own
when he is good ; when, like the householder, he renders
to no man less than his due, and to many men more
than their due. It is only lawful for a man to do what
2i6 THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
he will when his will is a good will, a beneficent will,
when he is bent on doing good with that which he calls
his own, when he is striving to make the best use of it ;
when his conscience is king ; when he is contemplating
and aiming to promote, not his own selfish interests,
but the welfare of his fellows. If any landlord be
sincerely convinced that it is for the common weal that
he should rack-rent his tenants ; if any slaveowner be
honestly persuaded that he can do nothing better for
his negro neighbours than keep them in bondage, and
flog or shoot them if they run away from it ; if any
despot is disinterestedly sure that, for the well-being of
his subjects, he must deny them all liberty of speech and
action, we may wonder how he should have reached his
conclusion, but we must admit the validity of his argu-
ment — for him. But if he so much as suspect that he
has simply his own interests in view — his own ease,
influence, wealth, pomp, or glory — he has no longer any
right to do what he will with his own, simply because
his will is not a good or kindly will. Only the man who
denies to none of his fellows all that they can fairly
claim of him, while to some he gives more than they
can claim, has any right to appeal to the example of the
Householder, or to find a sanction in the words of my
text. " I may do what I will with mine own," is not a
Christian principle. The true Christian principle is, " I
may do w hat 1 will when my will is a good will, when it
A WARRANT OF IMMORTALITY. 217
is bent on the welfare, the benefit, of my neighbours,
when I use mine own for just and gracious ends." And
it will be well for us to bear this principle in mind
whenever we are tempted to make a selfish, an unjust,
or a cruel, use of our property, our influence, or of any-
thing that is ours.
2. But this again, like the argument on the miracles
of Christ, is only by the way, and I touch upon it simply
to make my exposition of the Verse as complete as I
can. Our main theme is the irritating and inexplicable
inequalities of human life ; and our main inquiry, What
light docs the Verse throw upon them. It throws this
light upon them. If we are to hear the voice of God in
this Parable, and to substitute the almighty Ruler of the
universe for the Householder, and the inequalities of our
lot for his unequal treatment of his labourers both in the
market and in the vineyard, then our Lord is teaching
us that God only does what He will with his o'wn because
He is good, because his will is a beneficent will ; or, to
put the same thought in another form, God's purpose in
the inequalities which perplex our minds and fret our
hearts is a good, a beneficent, purpose. We do not
understand them ; we cannot account for or justify
them ; wc do not see hoiv they work for our good even
when we arc told that they are for our good ; we may
not solve the mystery of his Providence until we die,
until long after we have passed through death into life
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
eternal : but Christ asks us to believe that they all pro-
ceed from the goodness of God, that our good is the end
for which they are designed and to which they contri-
bute. He asks us to believe that He knows what we
do not know, sees what we cannot see ; and that He
sees and knows how large and generous are the ends
which his Father has in view for us, how happy is the
close to which our course is conducting us.
Now I should not venture to find all this in the mere
implication of my text, nor could I expect you to
believe that it means all this, if the implication were
not confirmed by the whole body, yes, and by the whole
spirit, of our Lord's teaching. But, as you know, both
the Old Testament and the New give us this great
assurance, this great and sustaining hope. They both
abound in Apocalyptic passages which affirm and de-
scribe the coming of a time in which every man will
receive according to his deeds, will be paid his full
wages and something over ; in which every wrong will
be redressed, every loss compensated, nay, turned to
gain : passages which prolong the lines of human life
beyond the grave, and shew them to us as moving on
for ever in the same general direction indeed, and yet as
ever moving upward into light. And, therefore, I have
every right to ask you to take to your hearts the full
comfort of the fact that, even when the mind of Christ
was called to confront the inequalities by which we are
A WARRANT OF IMMORTALITY. 219
troubled and perplexed, so far from sharing our trouble
and perplexity, He could still assure us, " God is good.
God's will is a good will. lie means your good. He is
not unjust or austere. It is his very bounty which
makes you think Him unfair, unequal in his ways. It is
because He is training you for a larger higher life than
the present, while you insist on judging Him as if the
present life were all, that you mistrust and misjudge
Him. He will yet give you all you deserve, and more.
Nay, if your will be a good will. He will even give you
all you desire, and more."
Faith, then, solves the problem which Reason pro-
pounds, and for which it has no solution whether it
admit, or whether it deny, the existence and rule of
God. But even faith does not demonstrate the problem.
It does not work out the sum, and put all the details of
the answer into our hands, so that we may go over it as
often as we please, and verify it from point to point. It
does not sell the Key with the Arithmetic. But it does
give us the final answer, the true answer, when it
assures that God is, and that God is good ; and that it
is only because his goodness is so great, and because we
cannot as yet measure it on its true scale, that we fail to
see what, and how good, his purpose for us is. For the
measures of time do not apply to eternity ; nor can we
work out the end and meaning of an immortal life in the
terms of our mortality. If there be in man both a de-
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE
veloped animal and an undeveloped angel, since it is
very certain that he cannot comprehend even the animal
which he has outgrown, very certain that he can do no
more than frame the faintest guess of what the life of
the beasts is to them, what its meaning is, and what its
end ; how much less can he hope to form any adequate
conception of what his own life will be like, or to what
lofty end it will soar, when he becomes as the angels
who are in heaven ? We cannot jump off our own
shadow, the hindering shadow of our mortality, and rise
into the life to be ; and yet we cannot understand the
meaning and end of this mortal life save as we under-
stand its sequel in the life to come. Reason is power-
less to help us. If we are to have any solution of the
mystery, it can only be revealed by faith.
It lias been revealed to faith. And if now that we
have received Christ's revelation of the immortality of
man and of the boundless love and mercy of God ; if,
while believing that He knew both God and man as we
shall never know them, that He saw our life, and saw it
whole, from its commencement to its close, we still
insist on judging our life and God's dealings with our
life as if the grave ivcre its goal, we are like one who
should attempt to measure the vast astronomical spaces
with a carpenter's foot-rule, or to calculate the motions
of the stars, by help of the multiplication-table, on a
pcnn}- slate ; we are like one who should judge a tale
A WARRANT OF IMMORTALITY.
by its opening chapter, or a drama by its first act or
scene, and refuse to wait for the catastrophe which is to
explain and vindicate it all.
If we are wise, we shall not thus judge, and misjudge,
the solemn drama of human life. Because " we spend
our years as a tale that is told," we shall wait for the
end which crowns the work before we criticize or censure
the work. Or if that end has been afore revealed to us,
wc shall refuse to read it by our own unassisted vision ;
we shall read and judge it in the light of the revelation
vouchsafed us.
Nay, more : if we are wise, we shall find in the very
inequalities of life a warrant of immortality. We shall
take all the wrongs, losses, and sorrows of time, with all
the perplexity and pain they breed within us, not as
proofs that God is unjust or unkind, but, rather, as
proofs that our life has been laid out on a nobler scale
and mounts to a loftier end than we had imagined ; as
proofs that we do not die when we die, but pass into a
world for which the discipline of this life is intended to
prepare us, a world in which the training commenced
here will be continued, and carried to a close so large
and lofty tljat even faith cannot fully grasp it, so
glorious as to transcend all the fond prophecies of
hope.
To every troubled and heavy-laden soul, then, aching
and perplexed under the wrongs of life, I bring the word
THE INEQUALITIES OF LIFE,
of Christ : " God is good, and means your good. The
very incquaHties of this present time, which you so much
resent, prove that He is training you, not for this Hfe
alone, but for immortality. Let not your eyes be clouded
with dark and evil thoughts of Him because his good-
ness transcends the measures of a mortal mind. You
have the promise of his mercy already. Only wait and
trust, and you shall have the proof of his mercy ere
long."
XVI.
JESUS THE JUST.
"And Jesus who is called Justus." — COLOSSIANS iv. 1 1.
If these words stood alone, or if they occurred in
another context, we might reasonably infer that they
indicated no one less than our Lord Himself; for his
name was " Jesus," and He too was called " that just
one." But, standing where they do, we know that
Jesus the Just was the name, not of the Lord of the
Church, but of an obscure disciple whose name occurs
here, indeed, but never occurs again. And even here we
are told so little of him, except his name, that it is easy
for the indolent reader to assume that we know abso-
lutely nothing of him, and are quite unable to conceive
what manner of man he was. We may even infer, as
some have inferred, that his name is mentioned here
simply to illustrate in what minute points the Son of
Man was made like unto his brethren, bearing a name,
Jesus, which was in common use then, though reverence
forbids us to give it to our children now, and winning
224 JESUS THE JUST.
an epithet, the Just, which was the cherished distinction
of many a pious Pharisee. And, indeed, if it will help
us to believe that we may share his spirit and live his
life, it will be well for us to bear in mind that Jesus,
which is only the Greek form of Joshua, was a name in
common use among the Jews, and that even the Lord's
brother was known as " James the Just^
1. But do we know absolutely nothing of the Jesus
who is mentioned here ? We know at least that he was
C2\\qA Justus. And this epithet marks him out as one
who was a rigid and blameless observer of the Mosaic
law and customs. Ordinarily, too, the epithet implies
an exclusive and fanatical devotion to the Hebrew law
and traditions, a devotion which closed the eyes of the
mind against the claims of any system of thought and
morals outside the circle of the Law, and even prejudiced
it against any new development of the Law, however
wise and opportune it might be. A man whom the Jews
called "just" might be a proselyte, indeed ; but in that
case he must be a bigot, — one of those converts, or
perverts, who outdo in sectarian zeal the religious com-
munity to which they attach themselves— or they would
never have accorded him that distinction.
2. Jesus, however, was not a proselyte, for St. Paul
expressly tells us that he was "of the circumcision ;"
and, with him, this phrase implied Jewish blood as well
as Jewish religion. But he must have been very exact
JESUS THE JUST. 225
and scrupulous in his observance of his reh'gious duties,
and of all the customs and traditions by which the rabbis
" fenced " and defended the Mosaic law ; in short, he
must have been eminently pious and devout after the
Jewish manner of the time, before he could have been
entitled Jesus the Just. And we know what that manner
was, how rigid, how narrow, how illiberal, how sectarian,
how scornful of all that the Gentiles took for wisdom,
virtue, piety, and how bitterly opposed to all that bore
the Christian stamp.
3. And yet this Jew, though a Hebrew of the Hebrews,
was a Christian. He was a member and minister of the
Christian Church at Rome. He was a friend and fellow-
worker with St. Paul, the most catholic of the Apostles ;
to whom the Law was a yoke insupportable by any
man whom Christ had made free, and the traditions
" fables " which none but " old wives " could any longer
believe, and who counted those who put their trust in
the Law among the adversaries of Christ I In spite of all
his prejudices, all his eminence in the Hebrew piety, all
his contempt for "the impostor of Nazareth," Jesus,
though he was called Justus, had accepted the crucified
Nazarene as the true Lord and Saviour of men. He
had renounced the traditions of the fathers. He had
flung off the yoke of the Law. He had counted all that
was most precious to him but dross that he might win
Christ and be found in Him. In a word, he had pre-
16
226 JESUS THE JUST.
ferred the inward and spiritual to the outward and cere-
monial conception of Religion — an immense achievement,
an immense advance, for a man of his blood and training
and habits. With all the forces of education, custom,
acquired eminence and advantage, pinning him down to
his old place, he had broken away from them all to
embrace a new faith, to enter a new service, to find
scope for the new devotion which had been kindled in
his heart.
4. Of the time, manner, and circumstances of this
radical change we are told nothing ; for this distinguished
Jew. seems to have filled a very lowly place in the
Christian Church. But for St. Paul's passing mention
of his name we should have never heard of him. And
though St. Paul's pen has conferred on him a human
immortality, so that his name will never quite pass from
the lips of men, no one could have then suspected, and
least of all Jesus himself, that the Apostle's pen possessed
that magic power.
But that, however it took place, the change zuas
radical and complete, is beyond a doubt. For St. Paul
tells us that in all Rome, nay, in the whole Roman
Church, which was largely composed of Jewish converts,
there were only three Jews, of whom Jesus the Just was
one, who were his loyal and stedfast fellow-labourers in
the kingdom and service of Christ. The three were
Aristarchus, a fellow-prisoner, Mark the cousin of
JESUS THE JUST. 227
Barnabas, and Jesus who was called Justus. So that
not only had this distin^aiishcd Jew renounced the
faith of his fathers for the broader faith of Christ, not
only had he stepped down from his pride of place in
the Synagogue to become a humble and obscure minister
in the Church ; but, once in the Church, he had thrown
in his lot with its broader and more liberal champions,
although here too he had to swim against the main
current of belief and action. The Jewish members of
the Church at Rome were numerous and powerful.
And, as a body, they joined the Hebraist faction which
set itself against Paul in every church, turned his
ministry into a perpetual warfare, and filled his heart
with indignation and grief. Only three were found to
stand by the Apostle who maintained that in Christ
there was neither Jew nor Greek, no heavenly favourites,
no advantage to be derived from blood ; that circumci-
sion was nothing and uncircumcision nothing, but all
became one new man in Him, with an equal claim on
his love, and an equal interest in the common salvation.
Jesus, who was called Justus, was one of the faithful
three. As he had sided with Christ against the Syna-
gogue, so now he sides with St. Paul against the Church.
As he had ventured to differ from his fathers, so also he
takes leave to differ from his brethren. And the re-
markable, the beautiful, point in his character is that he
always shews himself strong upon the weaker side, or at
JESUS THE JUST.
least the unpopular side ; that in both the great spiritual
crises of his life, when he had to choose betwixt two, he
takes the more generous, catholic, and liberal part. A
man of an open mind, he is also a man of a kindly
magnanimous spirit, and ranges himself on what must
have seemed to be the losing cause. He does not suffer
his eminence as a Pharisee to hold him back from be-
coming a Christian ; nor does he suffer his personal
interest and advantage as a Jew to hold him back from
the frankest and freest communion with the Gentiles.
The Jews would fain have confined the favour of God
to the Synagogue. The Hebraists would fain have con-
fined the grace of Christ to the Circumcision. But Jesus
the Just is content to incur the hatred both of the Jew
and the Hebraist that he may be true to the claims of
Christian charity. In his love for the Gentiles, and for
the Apostle of the Gentiles, he becomes a fellow-worker
with him, and for them, in the kingdom of God.
5. Jew and Pharisee as he was, then, he must have
been a man of a singular and rare humanity, a catholic,
open-minded, large-hearted Christian, as bold and reso-
lute as he was loving and humane. And if we ask,
" What was the origin and source of this fine 'enthusiasm
of humanity '?" the answer comes clearly enough from a
phrase which may sound at first a little obscure. He
was, we are told, a fellow-worker with St. Paul, not in,
but " unto the kingdom of God." That is to say, he was
JESUS THE JUST. 229
animated, possessed, dominated, by a great idea which
he had learned from Christ. For had not that other
and better Jesus constantly spoken of " the kingdom of
God," or " the kingdom of heaven," which lie had come
to set up on the earth ? a kingdom wide as the world,
open not to one race alone, but to every race ; a kingdom
into which all men were to be drawn ; a kingdom of
which God Himself was to be Lord, and to prove Him-
self the Lord by writing the laws of heaven on the minds
and hearts of all who entered it ?
This was the great revelation which Jesus Christ came
to make, the great idea which He lived and died to
declare, illustrate, and enforce. And Jesus the Just had
caught and embraced this idea. He was possessed by
it. To labour unto, towards, this kingdom of God, to
help to bring it about, to establish it in this heart and
that, and so to prepare for its coming in all hearts, — this
was the aim he had set before him ; this the task to
which he devoted himself, and for the sake of which he
was content to sacrifice his standing as a Jew, his emi-
nence as a Pharisee, and to incur the hatred and breast
the opposition of the very Church, if the Church should
prove so untrue to her Master as to set herself against
it. A character so remarkable, a devotion so absolute,
a courage so fearless as that of Justus can only be
explained by the presence and inspiration of some
great motive. And t/iis was the motive which animated
230 JESUS THE JUST.
and supported him in the toils and sacrifices which he
shared with the Apostle Paul, this fair and noble dream
of a divine kingdom in which all the races of our divided
earth should become one, one in the love and service
of the one only God, and all that was earthly in them
should become " pure heavenly " : — a dream yet to be
fulfilled indeed, but which must be fulfilled if there is
any truth in God or any hope for man.
And was not this a sufficient motive, a motive ade-
quate to produce the radical and noble change which
transformed Jesus the just Jew into the friend and
fellow-worker of the Apostle to the Gentiles, so that he
did not count life itself — and much less any personal
advantage or privilege — dear unto him if only he might
help to build up the kingdom of God among men, and
help to make it universal ? li we were animated by this
motive, haunted and possessed by this ideal, should we
not soon outgrow all our bigotries, and break away from
all our sectarian limitations, think less of our own ad-
vantages, and even of our own salvation, and more of
the welfare and salvation of the world ? Would the
safety of the elect content us, or even our own safety ?
Should we settle down to an easy enjoyment of "the
comforts of Religion" while the world around us was
perishing for lack of a knowledge we could impart?
Should we be zealous to maintain our sectarian feuds,
forgetting that the world can only be drawn to God as
JESUS THE JUST. 231
it sees that we are all one, really one, new man in Christ
Jesus ? Should we not rather break through all hinder-
ing and separating bonds, that we might be fellow-
labourers " unto the kingdoro of God " ?
Men sometimes talk as if charity were fatal to zeal,
although in every other connection, love is admitted to
be the strongest and most impelling of all motives, the
mainspring of all generous and heroic action. But was
Jesus Justus the less, or the more, zealous because he
preferred the universal kingdom of God to the pro\;incial
Judaism in which he had been brought up, or even to
the sectarian Hebraism of the Church which he had
joined ? And need ive be the less zealous for the salva-
tion of men because we account catholicity the true
temper of the Church, and charity the chief of the
Christian graces, and cherish the largest hope in the
mercy of God ? In proportion as our charity is deep
and sincere, it will be fervent, and will constrain us to
labours and sacrifices_for the spiritual welfare of the
world around us. Our charity is only that of the lip,
not that of the heart, if it does not kindle and inflame
our zeal,
A fellow-worker with St. Paul was called to no light
and easy task : and though we may be content to fall
short of Paul's high mark, yet who would willingly be
less, or do less, than Jesus who was called Justus .-*
We have already gained, I hope, a tolerably clear
232 JESUS THE JUST.
and adequate conception of the man. We have seen
that, though a rigid Jew and an eminent Pharisee,
Justus wilHngly encountered shame, enmity, contempt,
from the Jews, and broke away from all the habits and
interests of his life, to embrace the gospel and serve the
church of Christ. And we have also seen that in order
to serve Christ, to maintain the universality of his king-
dom and prepare the way for its spread, he also broke
away from his brother Hebraists, and was one of the
only three who heartily associated himself with the toils
and sacrifices of the Apostle of the Gentiles.
But there are still two points to be touched before our
study of him will be complete ; and, though they are
both of minor importance, they are far too pleasant and
significant to be passed over in silence.
6. The first is simply an illustration of the liberality
of his spirit. In common with Aristarchus and Mark,
he learns that St. Paul is writing a letter to the Gentile
Church at Colossal ; and, Jew as he is, he cannot be
content to miss an opportunity of shewing his love and
goodwill to the Gentile Christians. " Salute them from
me," he says to Paul ; and accordingly Paul writes,
"Jesus who is called Justus saluteth you." In little
things, as well as in great, the man proves his devotion
to the kingdom which embraces the whole world, and
recognizes his brotherhood with men of every race.
7. The second is simply an illustration of his entire
JESUS THE JUST. 233
sympathy with St. Paul. He, as well as Mark and
Aristarchus, has been " a comfort " to mc, writes the
Apostle. And the Greek word for " comfort " viay have
been, as several of our scholars have assumed, one of
those medical terms which St. Paul picked up from
Luke the phj-sician ; thou<^h I am not at all sure that
we need to trace it to Luke's lips. The Greek word is
irapijyopia, or, as we call it, paregoric ; a word which
may have been as familiar in its Greek form to the
Apostle as in its English form it is to us. But, wherever
he got it, the word meant something more definite than
" comfort," and perhaps we shall best render his thought
if we understand St. Paul to say that Jesus Justus had
been a cordial to him, so stimulating and soothing had
he found his friendship. There is something tender,
familiar, affectionate in the phrase. It implies that the
Apostle found this once rigid Jew, and now resolute
Christian, jyv/z/rt/Z/iZ/V ; that fellowship with him braced
and calmed his mind, touched and strengthened his
heart ; that he liked him, and liked to have him with
him.
As, indeed, may very well have been the case. P^or
the two men, different as they were, and though the one
was so much greater than the other, had passed through
much the same discipline and experience. They had
both begun as fanatical Jews, Hebrews of the Hebrews,
Pharisees of the Pharisees, breathing out threatenings
234 JESUS THE JUST.
and slaughter against the Church. And they had both
moved onward to the same position, not simply in that
they had both embraced the Jesus whom the Jews
rejected as the Christ of God, and become members and
ministers in the Church of Christ ; but also in that they
both belonged to the broader, the more liberal and pro-
gressive, section of the Church. They both pursued the
same ideal — that universal kingdom of God in which all
the kingdoms of this world were to merge and blend, in
which all the races of men were to be created anew in
Christ Jesus. There was much to bind them together,
therefore ; they shared much in common : they were of
one temper ; they were animated by one and the self-
same spirit ; they were labouring together for a common
end.
8. Now if any of you would have said a few minutes
ago that you " knew nothing " of Jesus who was called
Justus ; if, when I gave out my text, you assum'ed that
nothing could be known of the man, permit me to ask
whether you have not now reached as clear a conception
of his character as you have of that of most. of your
immediate neighbours ? and to remind you that I have
not told you a single fact about him which you might
not have found out for yourselves. With very little
pains you might have discovered from what St. Paul
here says of him, that he had onCe been a rigid and
fanatical Jew, a distinguished and bigoted Pharisee ;
JESUS THE JUST. 235
that. In the teeth of all his habits, prejudices, interests,
he had been constrained to accept Jesus of Nazareth as
the Christ of God, to love, serve, and worship Him as
the true Saviour of men ; that, though he had naturally
allied himself with the Hebraist section of the Church at
Rome, no sooner did he come under the influence of St.
Paul than he severed himself from the Christian, as he
had before severed himself from the Jewish, " circumci-
sion," once more sacrificing many of his strongest con-
victions and attachments ; that it was his faith in and
his craving for the universal kingdom of God, his hope
and strong desire that all men should be saved by being
brought to a knowledge of the truth, which inspired all
his toils, all his sacrifices ; that in his humanity, his
philanthropy, his genuine love for " men his brethren,"
he would not willingly miss any opportunity of "saluting"
the Gentile converts to the Christian Faith, and shewing
that his love for them was as tender and true as if they
had been of Jewish blood ; and that b)- cherishing this
love, this enthusiasm, for humanity at large, the rigid
Jew, the bigoted Pharisee, became of so gentle and
sympathetic a spirit that even the large-brained and
large-hearted Paul found fellowship with him a comfort,
a cordial, which at once soothed and stimulated him in
the hour when nearly all men forsook him, when, in
prison and in bonds, he was daily expecting a cruel and
a lonely death.
236 JESUS THE JUST,
All this I say you might have discovered for your-
selves by meditating on the words in which St. Paul
describes him. And I say it, not in rebuke, but for
your encouragement. For I believe there is hardly one
of the obscure servants of Christ mentioned in the New
Testament, and of whom you know the names, but know
little more, of whom you may not know much more if
only you will reflect on the little we are told of them : of
whom you may not learn at least so much as will render
their example a stimulus and a comfort to you. For it
is these humble predecessors of ours in the service of
Christ, and in the toils and sacrifices which that service
implies, who stand nearest to us, with whom we are
most at home, and in whose examples we may often find
the most powerful and welcome incitement to fidelity,
to diligence, to a stedfast continuance in well-doing.
They do not, or they need not, stand very high above
us. What they did, we may hope to do. What they
bore, we may hope to bear. What they achieved, we
may hope to achieve.
Jesus Justus does not seem to have been a person of
any special mark in the Church. He is never mentioned
again. We should never have so much as heard his
name if he had not bethought him to ask St, Paul to
send his love to the Christians at Colossae. And yet
how honourable a character he had built up ! how many
and great were the sacrifices he had made — sacrifices,
JESUS THE JUST. 237
moreover, of the very kind which many of us are called
to make to-day ! what an open mind he kept ! what a
generous and loving heart ! what a catholic and sympa-
thetic spirit! How much he did to serve the Church,
and the Lord of the Church, not only by his own labours,
but also by being a cordial to the harassed spirit of one
far greater than himself!
Most of all, perhaps, he impresses us by the somewhat
rare combination of strength with sweetness, of charity
with devotion, of the widest philanthropy and the largest
hopes for men with a zeal which halted before no toil,
no sacrifice. Thoughtfulness and activity do not always
go together with equal steps. And those who cherish
large hopes for mankind are often at least suspected of
indifference, of rendering only a half-hearted support to
efforts for the extension of the Divine kingdom. No
charge should be more untrue. No charge can be more
untrue when those who think think deeply, or when
those whose faith in the mercy of God is large hold that
faith in sincerity and in truth. For them to be indifferent
is as though those who believe health to be the normal
and ultimate state of all men should be careless of their
present sanitary conditions, or refuse to support a hos-
pital for the crippled and diseased. Jesus the Just was
not indifferent to the progress and extension of the
Church of Christ whether at Rome or in distant Colossre,
large as was his faith in the universal kingdom of God.
238 JESUS THE JUST.
He was a fellow-labourer with the most laborious of the
Apostles " unto " that kingdom. And in proportion as
we share his spirit and cherish his hope, we shall be
fellow-workers with him. The love of Christ will con-
strain us. The love of man will constrain us. The great
hope we cherish will be our inspiration and support under
all the disappointments and weariness of our work.
Because we expect great things from God, we shall
attempt great things for Him, and for the coming of his
kingdom in all the earth.
XVII.
DEMETRIUS.
" Demetrius hath the witness of all men, and of the truth itself ;
yea, and we also bear witness." — iii. John 12.
The third Epistle of St. John, as it is the latest, so also
it is one of the shortest of the Christian Scriptures, so
short that it is rather a brief private note than a formal
public letter. But, small as is the canvass, it holds a
large and stirring picture. In a few sentences it tells us
more, gives us a more authentic description, of what
Church life was like in the last quarter of the first
century, and probably in the last decade of that century,
than we might learn from many a long and formal
treatise. If I am to tell you the story which it com-
presses into so small a compass — and I viiist tell it — I
must not only use a great many more words than it
contains, I must also give you a preface to it which will
be at least as long as the Epistle itself.
We are not told to what Church this note, or letter,
was addressed, though it was evidently a Church of some
size and importance. But all the indications of time and
240 DEMETRIUS.
place which have come down to us imply that it was
written . from Ephesus, toward the close of St. John's
long life and ministry, and addressed to one of the
neighbouring Churches of Asia Minor, which St. Paul
had founded some thirty or forty years before. There
were many such churches in the wealthy and prosperous
cities of this great province ; and in all of them, no
doubt, the tradition of St. Paul's teaching and power
was carefully preserved ; while in some, or in some mem-
bers of many of them, there may have been a certain in-
disposition to submit to the authority of another Apostle,
even to that of the venerable and beloved John. Dio-
trophes was probably only one of a class who said " I
am o^ Pmil" in a tone which made the words mean, " I
am not of John," and turned the authority of the one
Apostle against the other. Obviously there was a good
deal of independence in the Churches when one Church
in a province could refuse communion with men who
were commended to them by another Church, could
excommunicate those who did commune with them, and
an unknown Diotrophes could not only set himself, but
persuade the majority of his fellow-members to set
themselves, against the request and command of one of
the Apostles who had seen the Lord, and he the disciple
whom Jesus had loved above the rest.
V>\\\. if the Churches had grown in independence, they
had not declined in missionary zeal. The Churches
DEMETRIUS. 241
under the charge of St. John were sending out evan-
gelists, such as Demetrius, to the Gentiles, and so
carrying on the work of St. Paul, nay, carrying it on
in his very spirit ; for just as St. Paul refused to " live
by " the gospel he preached, or to be chargeable to any,
lest his motive should be miscontrued, so Demetrius and
his fellows " went forth, taking nothing of the Gentiles "
(Verse 6).
In fine, the impression which the Epistle leaves on
our minds is that the members of the primitive and
apostolic Church were not, as they have sometimes been
drawn, saints who lived together in an unbroken charity
and peace, " too good for human nature's daily use," but
men and women of like passions with ourselves ; with
much that was good in them, but also with not a little
that came of evil ; capable of heroic self-sacrifice, but
also capable of sinking into selfish ambitions and envies
and strifes, of falling, in short, into the very errors and
faults of which we find some lingering traits even in the
Church life of to-day, when we ought to be so much wiser
and better than they. And this is a fact which we should
bear in mind, not as rejoicing to bring them down to
our own poor level, but that we may not attribute to
them an impossible perfection, and draw from it an
inference of despair. A little better than we are we
may hope, and, all things considered, even believe, that
they were ; but the Church life even of the Apostolic
17
242 DEMETRIUS.
Church was not an ideal life; it was not beyond, but
well within, our reach, if only we are true to the truth
and grace of Christ.
Here is a bit of its story which you may compare with
your own experience. Demetrius and his fellows had
been called to the evangelic office, and had devoted them-
selves to preaching the gospel to the Gentiles. St. John
knew them, loved them, approved them, gave them
letters of commendation to the Churches of Asia Minor ;
and, among others, to the Church of which both Gaius
and Diotrophes were members. Diotrophes, evidently a
man of some mark and gifts, declined to have anything
to do with them — perhaps because Demetrius did not
come first to him, or did not make much of and
defer to him ; perhaps because he preferred St. Paul's
doctrinal and argumentative method of teaching, and his
demand for faith, to St. John's divine and deep simplicity,
and his eternal insistence on charity, or love. In any
case he did not like Demetrius, did not take to him ; and
doubtless he soon found or imagined abundant reasons
for his dislike. Having formed, and uttered, his hasty
opinion, Diotrophes was not the man to draw back from
it. Nor was he content to have it to himself, to hold it
alone. He must impose it on the Church. When others
would have " received " the evangelists, he forbad them.
If they paid no heed to his prohibition, he got them
" cast out " of the Church ; the motto of this lover of
'DEAfETRIUS. 243
prc-cmincncc being, apparently, " Better to reign in a
small church than to serve in a large one."
Undeterred by his influence and threats, the hospitable
Gaius had welcomed the repulsed and disheartened Evan-
gelists to his house, and furthered them in their good
work. Whether he also was excommunicated by Dio-
trophes, or whether he was too wealthy and powerful a
man to be attacked, we are not told. But, at all risks,
he discharged his duty, having, I suppose, an affectionate
reverence for St. John which made the displeasure of a
Diotrophes sit lightly upon him. Demetrius was very
grateful to him ; and, when he returned to Ephesus,
reported the fidelity of Gaius both to the Apostle, and
to the Church of which John was pastor or bishop. And
now the Apostle sends back Demetrius, and writes to
Gaius, commending and encouraging him, and promising
him a speedy visit, in the course of which he will depose
Diotrophes from his pride of place, make him eat his
■ " wicked words," and restore those whom he had cast
out.
Besides the light it casts on the conditions of the
primitive Church, then, this brief Letter sets before \is
three men — Demetrius the evangelist, Gaius the faithful
servant of the Church, and Diotrophes who assumed to
lord it over God's heritage — at each of whom I will ask
you to look, that you may frame some definite conception
of his character, and learn the lessons he has to teach.
244 DEMETRIUS.
For the present let us be content with looking at
Demetrius, taking him first because he was the bone of
contention between Gaius and Diotrophes. Of him we
are told less than of the other two, but still enough, I
think, to lead us to a tolerably adequate conception of
him.
All three of these men were in some sense" ministers,
i.e., servants, of the Church ; but in the Apostolic Church
the Christian ministry took many forms. Some were
prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers
(Ephesians iv. ii); nay, St. Paul seems to distinguish
even between the minister who taught and the minister
who exhorted, between the minister who ruled and the
minister who bestowed the alms of the Church (Romans
xii. 8). And we have recently learned, from an ancient
document (the Didache) that, as a rule, the presbyter or
bishop, what we call " the pastor," of a Church was the
ruling and representative elder, the man who adminis-
tered the affairs of the Church, managed its business, and
spoke for it to other churches or to the world at large ;
while those who assumed the office and function which
we now think of as ministerial mainly were called
teachers, evangelists, prophets. The bishop, or pastor,
was not necessarily a man who could preach ; the
preacher, whether he taught, exhorted, or prophesied,
did not necessarily take an active or forward part in
Church business or discipline ; no, not even if, like
DEMETRIUS. 245
St. Paul, he was teacher, cvangch'st, prophet, all in
one.
Gaius and Diotrophes, probably, belonged to the
former, the ruling, class ; while Demetrius, certainly,
belonged to the latter, the preaching, class.
For Demetrius was an evangelist ; i.e., he proclaimed
the evangel of love and mercy, the good tidings of great
joy, which came by Jesus Christ : nay, after a time, and
before we meet with him, he seems to have specialized
himself still further, and to have become a travelling
evangelist, or missionary. As a missionary even, he
seems to have devoted himself, like St. Paul before him,
specially to the service of the Gentiles (Verse 7) ; though
we may be sure that, like St. Paul, he missed no oppor-
tunity of proving to the Jews out of their own Scriptures
that Jesus was the Christ.
In attempting to define any man of that age, indeed,
or any function, we must before all things be on our
guard against drawing our outlines with too rigid or too
dark a pencil. For, then at least, one man played many
parts ; and he who was a teacher might melt into a
missionary ; he who was a ruling elder might pass into
a preaching elder ; while, occasionally, some one man, a
Paul or a John, gifted above his fellows, might absorb
into himself all possible functions, and be ruler, preacher,
evangelist, and prophet, as well as an Apostle, — ^just as
in " the spacious times of great Elizabeth " one and the
246 DEMETRIUS.
self-same man might be scholar, statesman, admiral,
general, diplomatist, and even his own gardener or archi-
tect. The sharp lines of demarcation between classes,
professions, functions, are indeed of quite recent origin.
Because Demetrius was an evangelist and a missionary,
I suspect he was also a prophet. It is but a little while
since we studied " the faithful sayings of the New Testa-
ment," sayings which we saw reason to think authentic
utterances of the Christian prophets.^ And some of you
may remember that, as a rule, these sayings embody the
facts and truths which are the very substance of the
Gospel ; such as, for instance, that " Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners." The man who could
utter such sentences as these, who could compress the
whole gospel into simple and portable forms, was the
very man for an evangelist or a missionary. And no
doubt many of the evangelists were also prophets —
Demetrius, perhaps, among them.
But whatever his gifts, and whether few or man)',
there can be no doubt of the self-sacrificing and dis-
interested spirit in which he used them. Simply to travel
was dangerous in those days, since every stranger was
then held to be an enemy. But to go into the schools,
market-places, and sanctuaries of strange cities, in order
to teach a strange religion, was very like courting death.
Among the sophists and philosophers of the time, indeed,
' See Volume III., Discourses 16-23.
DEMETRIUS. 247
with cars ever on the itch for some new thing, such a man
as Demetrius, with such a message as his, might meet
with nothing worse than ridicule and contempt. Hut the
ignorant and cruel mob of those ancient Asian cities
[e.g.. Acts xix. 23-41), each of which was devoted to the
service of its own deity, was prompt enough to take fire
at whatever could be construed as an insult to their
special shrine, and knew no better sport than tearing a
setter forth of strange gods limb from limb.
It tasked courage, therefore, to venture among them
with the simple evangel of Christ, which at once rebuked
their vices and dethroned their gods. And to do this,
not for gain, or fame, or hire ; to go out into a strange
cruel world, not knowing where to look for daily bread,
casting oneself wholly on the providence of God and the
bounty of unknown brethren, was to make this hard
perilous task still harder and more perilous. But Deme-
trius did not shrink. lie would "take nothing of the
Gentiles." Like St. Paul, he knew well enough that, if
he seemed to make anything by his message, the sharp
suspicious traders of the Asian harbours and markets
would close their minds and hearts, as well as their
purses, against him. Hence he would take nothing from
them ; no, not even when it was offered him, lest he
should be placing a stone of stumbling in the way of any
whose consciences had been touched.
If we ask for the motive which inspired this noble and
248 DEMETRIUS.
self-sacrificing devotion to the spiritual welfare of men,
we are told that it was simply ''for the sake of the
Name " that Demetrius devoted himself to the service of
the Gentiles. And this quaint phrase is one of those
affectionate abbreviations which are sure to creep into
use among the members of a community who are bound
together by a common feeling and purpose, and is only
one of several such abbreviations to be found in the New
Testament. Thus, for instance, the way, or method, of
Christian thought and conduct is several times called
simply " the Way," or " this Way " in the Acts of the
Apostles ; and we read of Saul hunting out " any who
were of the Way," that he might bring them bound to
Jerusalem (Chap. ix. 2), or of certain Jews at Ephesus
who " spoke evil of this Way before the multitude," and
the " no small stir concerning the Way " which arose in
the same city among the Gentiles (Chap. xix. 9-23) ;
and are told that Felix, the governor of Caesarea, had a
"more exact knowledge of the Way" than the Jews who
accused Paul before his bar (Chap. xxiv. 22), while Paul
himself admits in his defence, " This I confess unto thee,
that after the Way, which they call a Sect, so serve I the
God of our Fathers" (Chap. xxiv. 14). Of course "the
Way " stood for " the way of Christ," or the Christian
way of thought and life : but when the term was common
and familiar there was no need to utter it at full length,
since every one was talking of it and knew what was
DEMETRIUS. 249
meant. And, in like manner, "the Name" was the name
of the great Saviour of men, and stood for all that was
known of Him, all that was summed up in Ilim. At
times we read in the New Testament of " the Name of
Jesus" (Philippians ii. 10), or "the Name of Christ"
(i Peter iv. 14;, or "the Name of the Lord" (James v. 14),
or " the Name of our Lord Jesus" (2 Thessalonians i. 12),
or "the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans i. 5),
and are told that men preached in this Name, or believed
in this Name, or asked in this Name, or were gathered
together in this Name. But at other times, when every-
body would know what was meant, and would in-
stinctively supply the omitted words, " the Name " was
used absolutely and by itself, as it is here, where we are
told that " for the sake of the Name " Demetrius and his
companions went forth to bear witness to the truth
among the Gentiles. What moved them to this great
and perilous work was the love they bore to the Name
of Jesus Christ their Lord, and the Lord and Saviour of
all men. P'or, as I have recently reminded you,' this
Name, by a happy Providence, embodies and summarizes
the whole work and gospel of "the Man from heaven ;"
since "Jesus" means "Saviour," and "Christ" means
" Anointed," and " Lord " means " God : " so that what
the Name really covers and implies is that Jesus Christ
was the Saviour whom God had promised and anointed,
' See discourse on 77te Christian Commandments^ p. 88.
2 50 DEMETRIUS.
and that God was in Him, reconciling the world unto
Himself. This was the truth to which Demetrius bore
witness, this the gospel which he preached ; and it was
because his whole heart was penetrated and informed by
love for this great Saviour and Lord that he went forth
into a strange and hostile world to make Him known to
men who were perishing for lack of knowledge — his
enthusiasm for the Man Christ Jesus devoloping into an
enthusiasm of humanity.
An evangelist, possibly a prophet, animated by a most
self-sacrificing and disinterested spirit, which sprang from
an ardent love for Christ the Saviour of men, Demetrius
won for himself a threefold testimony : (i) He won "the
witness of all" says St. John ; i.e., the witness of all good
men, of all who were capable of appreciating goodness.
Even those who rejected his message had nothing to
allege against the man, save the sublime folly of a perilous
and unprofitable enthusiasm ; while those who accepted
it from him, or had already accepted it from other lips,
could not but admire the fineness of his spirit and the
fire of his zeal.
(2) More and better still, he won "the testimony of
tJie tnitJi itself." For he who daily sets his life upon the
die that he may be true to his convictions, he who, moved
by the grace and love of Christ, seeks not his own things
but the things of others ; he who devotes himself with
burning zeal and all-enduring courage to the service of
DEMETRIUS. 251
truth and the salvation of men, — to him the truth itself,
which has made him what he is, bears witness. He does
not merely " prate " about the truth, as a Diotrophcs
may ; he embodies it in deeds of love and self-sacrifice
of which he would have been incapable but for the truth
which animates and sustains him. Men do not despise
case and a sure provision for their daily wants, they do
not daily affront every form of danger and loss, for truths,
or beliefs, which have no real, no vital, hold upon them.
" They who do such things as these declare plainly," they
" make it manifest," that they are the servants of a truth
which they love more than they love themselves. It is
the truth itself which speaks through them, and bears
witness to them.
(3) Last of all, St. John adds his own testimony to
that of the previous witnesses : " ive also bear witness."
And any man who has devoted himself to thp service and
spread of a truth which has not met with wide or general
recognition will understand the special charm which this
testimony would exert on Demetrius. P>om sheer love
of the truth, or conviction, which God has given him, and
a strong desire that his fellow-men should share the light
and strength and comfort it Uas brought him, a man may
be faithful to it, and go on proclaiming it, whatever the
risk or loss his fidelity may involve. But how unspeak-
able will be the comfort, how will it nerve his courage
and sustain his devotion, if some great Master, whom he
252 DEMETRIUS.
loves and venerates as far wiser and better than himself,
far nearer to the Source of all truth and grace, openly
backs him up in his work, and says, " I love him ; I trust
him ; I commend him to you : it is the truth which he
is teaching and by which he lives ; receive hiin as you
would receive me." Many of us, I dare say, have heard
such an encouraging voice as this, and know therefore
what a peculiar force and charm it would carry for Deme-
trius. And if we have not, we have only to remember
how Carlyle and his wife, living their poor, proud, starved
life at Craigenputtock, sprang at the commendation of
Goethe, and even at the sympathy of Emerson, in order
to understand what the generous appreciation of St. John
must have been to this unknown Evangelist.
On the whole, then, we may conceive of Demetrius as
an evangelist, a travelling evangelist or missionary, who
was so moved by his love for Christ, and was animated
by a spirit so disinterested and brave, by a zeal so ardent
and sustained ; who was so faithful to the evangel he
preached in the daily life which he daily risked that he
might be true to it, as to win for himself the testimony
of all who were capable of appreciating truth and good-
ness, nay, of the very truth^tsclf, and of the Apostle who
had more of the mind and heart of Christ than any other
of the sons of men.
A very noble character, on which, simply by describing
it, St. John has pronounced a very noble eulogium. And
DEMETRIUS. 253
if the ideal it presents is one to which we feel that we
have not yet attained, or even one which we think beyond
our reach, we cannot doubt either that, so far as it goes,
it is a true ideal of the Christian life, or that we ought to
and may so far reproduce it as to be bringing our daily
life into a closer correspondence with the truths we
believe. "Lives of great men all remind us" that our
lives ought to be greater than they are, and should move
us to make them greater. If we are not called to be, if
we have not the gifts which would fit us for the work of,
evangelists and missionaries, we are still called to be true
to our convictions ; we are called to live a Christian, i.e.^
a quiet, sober, and godly life, and so both to discharge
the duty of bearing witness to the truth, and to enjoy
the happiness of having the truth itself bear witness
to us.
Let me also remind you that great as Demetrius looks
to us — great in his disinterestedness, his devotion, his
zeal — he was not a man of any great mark in the primi-
tive Church. It is not some hero of distinction, some
honoured and beloved man of spiritual genius, whom I
have tried to place before you ; but a man of whom
we should never have heard but for the prating in-
subordination of Diotrophes, whose " wicked words "
and wicked conduct we can almost forgive since, but -for
these, we should have known nothing of the hospitable
Gaius and the zealous Demetrius. There must have been
254 DEMETRIUS.
many such as Demetrius, many such as Gaius, in the
Apostolic Church, if also many such as Diotrophes.
And though, with Diotrophes and his life before us, we
must not think of it as a company of saints who had
"squared the circle of perfection," we may and must
think well of a Church in which, if we find one prating
lover of pre-eminence, we also find a host so generous,
hospitable, and fearless as Gaius, an evangelist as brave
and devoted as Demetrius, and, in St. John, the very
Apostle of love and grace.
XVIIT.
DIOTROPHES.
" I wrote somewhat unto the cliurch : but Diotrophcs, who loveth
to have the pre-eminence among them, receiveth us not. Therefore,
if I come, I will bring to remembrance his deeds which he doeth,
prating against us with wicked words ; and not content therewith,
neither doth he himself receive the brethren, and them that would
he forbiddcth and casteth out of the church." — iii. JOHN 9, lo.
Besidks the light which this brief Epistle casts on the
state of the Christian Church toward the close of the first
century, it presents us with "the portraits in little" of
three remarkable men — Demetrius, Diotrophes, and
Gaius. We have already endeavoured to frame some
conception of Demetrius, and found him an evangelist,
a missionary, who, for the love he bore to Christ, had
devoted himself to the service of the Gentiles, with all
its toils, privations, and perils ; and was animated by a
spirit so disinterested and brave, b}' a zeal so ardent and
sustained, that he won for himself the testimony of all
who were capable of appreciating truth and goodness,
nay, of the very truth itself, and of the Apostle whom
Jesus loved. We have now before us a much less wel-
256 DIOTROPHES.
come theme. We are to study a man of a very different
and inferior stamp — the vain, irritable, and loquacious
Diotrophes, whose religion seems to have been quite
compatible with a slippery morality.
What exactly it was at which Diotrophes took offence,
whether in the letter of St. John or in the conduct of
Demetrius, we are not told ; but it is not difficult to
offend a man who has an undue sense of his own im-
portance, and whose self-love may be set on fire by any
match, however innocently it may be struck. We do
not know at all precisely what was the cause or the occa-
sion of offence, but St. John clearly implies that it was
some wound to his love of pre-eminence, his determina-
tion to stand first and to exact a homage he did not
deserve. Possibly the Apostle's letter, the letter in which
he commended Demetrius and his fellows to the confi-
dence and sympathy of the Church, had not been
addressed to him, or had not been carried first to him.
Possibly Gaius had " received " Demetrius without con-
sulting Diotrophes, or even after he had declined to
receive him. He may have long cherished a grudge
against Gaius as a rival too near the throne ; or Deme-
trius may not have shewn him the deference which he
thought due to a person of his importance.
But, whatever the prick which his vanity had received,
the character of the man comes out in his wholly dis-
proportionate and extravagant resentment of the offence.
DIOTROPHES. 257
In his resentment, he sets himsclfagainst men farwiserand
better than himself; he imperils the peace of the Church :
he diminishes its numbers and strength. Nothing less than
the excommunication of all who had dared to differ from
him, all who had ventured to receive the Evangelists
whom he would not receive, and whom he had forbidden
them to receive, would satisfy him. Not content with
"prating" against the missionaries, atjd against the
Apostle who had sent them, he " cast out " of the Church
those who had welcomed and aided them. Tacitl\- at
least they had questioned his claim to personal or official
authority. His pre-eminence was in danger. And,
losing all sense of proportion in his fierce resentment, he
treats them as though they had been guilty of a mortal
sin ; his wounded vanity landing him, as it often docs
land men, in the most bitter animosity and intolerance.
Ikit the democratic constitution of the primitive
Church would not permit one man, however eminent
or pre-eminent, however high he stood in his own
conceit or in the esteem of his neighbours, to excom-
municate those who had offended him, simply because
they had offended him. l^efore that extreme sen-
tence was passed upon them, he must have won over
a majority of his and their fellow-members to his side.
And as he could not well plead against them a merely
personal offence, as the Church did not feel the wound
which inflamed his irritable self-conceit, he must have
18
258 DIOTROPHES.
taken a bypath to his end. He may long have cherished
a factious spirit in the inferior members of the Church,
the less wise and less good, by opposing whatever Gaius
and his friends proposed, and finding plausible reasons
for opposing them. And, indeed, a man of inferior gifts
and of a spirit less informed by the grace of Christ, who
tvill stand first, will put himself forward and attempt to
rule a free Christian congregation, must take this course.
He must play on the ignorance, and even on the piety,
of those who follow him, must affect a superior wisdom,
or a superior orthodoxy, or a superior devotion to the
claims of its poorer and less instructed members ; must,
in short, wield the common weapons of that loud-
mouthed, irrepressible, and unsavoury creature, the re-
ligious demagogue. He will not let facts speak for
themselves, but sets himself with his glib tongue to lick
them out of their natural shape. He cannot suffer
learning, wisdom, godliness, experience, to exert their
natural and beneficent influence, but must at all risks
counterwork that influence, and suggest plausible reasons
for not yielding to it. How else can he win, and main-
tain, a pre-eminence he docs not deserve, which, in his
calmer moments, he may even know that he does not
deserve ? Tax him, press him close, and he will some-
times admit that he is not so wise, or that he "has not
had the advantages," that he has not done so much for
the wellbeing of the Church, or made so many sacrifices
DIOTROPHES, 259
in its service, as this man, or that ; but, nevertheless, it
somehow happens that he is always in the right, and they
are always in the wrong !
There is nothing in the Epistle to suggest that Dio-
trophes held unsound doctrinal views, or that he fell into
what arc called gross and open sins. Had he been un-
orthodox, indeed, or flagrantly immoral, he would never
have gained that eminence in the Church which he in-
sisted on converting into pre-eminence. All that he is
blamed for is the conceit and self-assurance which ren-
dered him impatient of rivalry or resistance, and set him
on seeking power rather than usefulness. To stand
first, not to do most, was his supreme aim and desire ;
and as that is a false aim, the pursuit of which com-
monly leads men into evil courses very destructive to the
peace and welfare of the Church, the Apostle's censure
needs no defence. For the men who take the uppermost
seats are generally men who should sit lower, and who
are, sooner or later, compelled to take a lower place by
the discipline of a kindly Providence. Any man who
ivill have his own way is only too likely to come to a
bad end. Any man who insists on the Church taking
his way is only too certain to prove a blind guide, who
will lead those who follow him into a ditch, and perhaps
leave them in the ditch when he himself scrambles out
of it.
But you may be asking : " Hoiv did Diotrophes indyce
:?6o DIOTROPHES.
his fellow- members to follow his lead, since they must,
most of them at least, have been good men who were not
likely to excommunicate their fellows either for an excess
of charity, or for wounding his self-conceit ? "
And the answer to that question is suggested by St.
John's words : " He receiveth not us ;'' "prating against
tis with wicked (or malicious) words." Yet Diotrophes
could hardly have openly denied the authority of an
Apostle so revered and beloved as St. John. No : but
he may have questioned it indirectly. He may have
dilated on the independence of the church, of every
separate community of believers, on its competence and
right to manage its own affairs, to appoint its own agents,
to decide on its own course of action, and have asked
whether they would suffer, whether it would be right to
suffer, any outsider, however honoured and beloved he
might be, to govern and control them. He may have
pitted the venerated founder of the Asian Churches,
" that blessed martyr," Paul, against John, who had only
come among them when Paul had finished his course,
and who had not sealed his testimony with his blood.
He may have contrasted the teaching of St. Paul, which
dwelt so habitually amid the mysteries and doctrines of
the Faith, with the teaching of St. John, which dealt
mainly with the sentiments it should inspire, the spirit
of love and grace it should infuse. He may even have
persuaded himself, as well as others, that John had taken
DIOTROPHES. 261
a new departure and was ^M'vin^r a new tone to Christian
thought and life, and that the Church was in no small
danger of being led away from its old standards, and
thinking too much of the mercy and too little of the
severity of God. He may have conceived, or have taught
others to conceive, of the living Apostle, with his eternal
cry, *' Little children, love one another," as a fond foolish
old man whose best days were past, who was giving a too
sentimental tone to Religion, and making it milk for
babes instead of meat for strong men. If he could not
say bluntly, "I mean to stand first in this Church, let who
will oppose me," or, " I hate Gains and his pretensions to
advise and rule," or, " I dislike Demetrius, and resent his
lack of deference for me," he could at least appeal to the
memory and teaching of their venerated Founder, and
avow his preference of St. Paul's gospel over that of St.
John.
And when once he had taken that line, it would only
be too easy, as the letter of the Apostle and the mission
of Demetrius were discussed, and there seemed some
chance of his being defeated, for Diotrophes to slip into
wild and angry words, to prate maliciously against Gaius
and his followers, against Demetrius and his companions,
against the holy Apostle himself, and to accuse them of
faults and errors which, in his calmer moments, he would
not have alleged against them.
For we must now remember that we are told two
262 DIOTROPHES.
things about Diotrophes, We are told not only that he
loved to have the pre-eminence, but also that he was
cursed with a voluble tongue, that he would " still be
speaking : " for how often does a fluent tongue lead a man
whither, in his reasonable moods, he would not go, and
betray him into positions which he would not willingly
have assumed ? Mr. Talkative, as Bunyan calls him, may
do, and often does do, quite as much harm as Mr. Illwill.
A vain voluble man too commonly forgets to ask himself
whether he has anything to say worth saying, or even
whether he can trust himself to say it discreetly and well.
It is enough for him to speak, to shew off, to force him-
self even on a reluctant audience, so that he may flatter
his self-importance and gratify his itch for speaking. He
docs not consider whether he can bear to listen with
patience and courtesy to the arguments on the other
side, and allow them their due weight. It is his own way
he wants, not the best way, not the way which will be
most beneficial to others ; and if he cannot get it by fair
means, he will often stoop to foul or dubious means,
stirring up division and discontent, prating with malicious
words against those who oppose him when fair words
will no longer serve his turn.
I have known more than one of these orators, and can
see them in my mind's eye as I speak, taking the floor
with a Sir Oracle air, brandishing their arms in the heat
of their contention or swinging an eyeglass round a
DIOTROPHES. 263
finger to shew how much they are at ease, fussing with
trembh'ng hand among their "documents," which arc
generally in a hopeless confusion, and flinging themselves
into their seats, after having poured forth their " infinite
deal of nothing," as who should say, "Now that I have
opened my lips, let no dog bark." And, indeed, who
docs not know, by constant and painful experience, that
the men who arc most ready to speak and advise are the
men who are least worth hearing ; while those whom all
would be glad to hear arc as slow to speak as they are
slow to wrath, some of them requiring a kind of pressure
which almost amounts to 51 surgical operation before they
can be induced to open their mouths in public ? Who
does not know, by his own experience, that when once
a man has delivered \\\s opinion, however hastily he may
have formed it, he has made it tenfold more difficult to
judge and weigh the arguments which tend to disprove
it, his self-love being now arrayed against them, and his
natural dislike to own himself in the wrong?
And if the itch of speaking is apt to lead on to the
prating of idle, and even of malicious, words, the lust of
power commonly leads to an abuse oi power. " John, or
Demetrius, has slighted me. Gaius does not defer to me,
or my wishes. He has received strange brethren without
consulting mc, or when he knew that I had forbidden
their reception. Nothing, then, shall induce me to re-
ceive them. I will move heaven and earth against them.
264 DIOTROPHES.
and against all who abet them, be they who they will : "
— when a man has once reached that point, and Dio-
trophes seems to have reached it, he is not far from any
evil word or any evil work.
No punishment is more unwelcome to such an one
than that with which John threatens Diotrophes : " I
will put him in mind of his words and his works," bring
him to book for them, in his own presence and in that
of the Church. For those who speak untrue, disloyal,
malicious words, and go about to create division and
strife in a Church, or indeed in any community, take
much pains to conceal them, and will often deny them
if they can ; while, often, they really do forget the words
they spoke in their more heated and voluble moods, and
are shocked when they see the effects they have pro-
duced. They dislike nothing so much as being com-
pelled to face their own whispers, and to see how they
sound in honest and impartial ears, or even in their
own cars now that their excitement and irritation have
subsided.
Diotrophes, then, was a man who was not necessarily,
or wholly, bad ; a man who may have had many good
qualities and have done some service to the Church ;
but his good qualities were blended with and their good
effects vitiated by an exorbitant self-conceit and loqua-
city. So vain, so bent on influence and supremacy, as
to be capable of the most cruel intolerance in asserting
DJOTROPHES. 265
his supremacy ; so talkative as to be capable of slipping
into malicious and wicked words rather than hold his
tongue or let the Church defer to other guidance than
his own, he offers a much needed warning to many
a man of "spotless respectability and worrying temper,
of pious principles and worldly aims," of good intentions
but a too voluble tongue ; who, because he thinks more
highly of himself than he ought to think, flatters himself
that he is serving the Church when he is only pandering
to his self-importance and self-conceit, and is cruelly
injuring the Church he professes to love.
" Bc/ovc(f" exclaims St. John, when he had completed
his miniature of Diotrophes, " imitate not that ivJiich is
evil, but that zvhich is good. He that doeth good is of
God ; he that doeth evil hath not seen God." And by this
exhortation I do not understand him to imply that
Diotrophes was an utterly bad man who had never seen
God, never taken the first step toward a participation
of the Divine Nature ; any more than he means that
Demetrius, whom he forthwith begins to describe, was
a man wholly good, in whom no fault could be found.
But I do understand him to mean that a vain man, too
fond of hearing himself talk, too bent on taking the
foremost place, is closing his eyes against the heavenly
vision, and may do as much harm as if his intents were
bad. He does mean, I think, that mere words — whether
the fluent professions of a Diotrophes or the earnest
266 PIOTROPHES.
preaching of a Demetrius — are of comparatively little
account ; that it is by a man's deeds that he must be
judged : that if he does good, if his life tells for
righteousness, charity, and peace, he is a good man ;
but that if he does evil, if the total effect of his life and
labours is against righteousness and charity and peace,
he is a bad man. The Apostle may imply that, as
Demetrius was undoubtedly doing a good work, he was
a good man ; and that Diotrophcs, in so far as he
opposed and crippled that work, was doing an evil work
and took his place among evil men. But what the
Apostle would have ns do is not so much to censure
Diotrophes, and cast him out of the Church as unworthy
of a place in it — that would only be to follow the bad
example of the man himself; but to resolve that we will
not follow his bad example, that we will not suffer our
vanity to blind us to our own faults, our talkativeness,
if we are talkative, to sink into slander and a malicious
prating as injurious to ourselves as to our neighbours.
If you can find any good in any Diotrophes you know,
love it and imitate it ; but do not follow that which
is evil in him, or be too ready to make excuse for it
because you find some germ of that evil in your own
hearts : nay, turn his very faults to use, and let your
dislike of them make you less self-opinionated, less wise
in your own conceit, less willing to let your tongue
become a fire. And as you cannot look at such men
DIOTROPHES. 267
as Gains and Demetrius without seeing in them much
to admire and approve, imitate them ; draw some touch
of their generosity, their large charity, their disinterested
devotion, their burning zeal, into your hearts and Hvcs.
Let your reh"gion shew itself in deeds rather than in
words, in a life conformed by the grace of Christ to the
will of God, not in loud professions and loquacious
speeches ; nor in an intolerant temper, and your readi-
ness to sit in judgment on your brethren and to pass
sharp and pungent verdicts upon them.
" Who is wise and understanding among you ? Let
him shew, by his good life, his works in meekness and
wisdom. But if ye have bitter jealousy and faction in
your heart, glory not, and lie not against the truth.
This wisdom is not a wisdom that cometh down from
above, but is earthly, brutish, demoniacal. For where
jealousy and faction are, there are confusion and every
evil deed. But the wisdom that is from above is first
pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be intreated, full
of mercy and good fruits, without variance, without
hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in
peace by them that make peace."
XIX.
GAIUS.
" I rejoiced greatly when brethren came and bare witness unto
thy truth, even as thou walkest in truth." — iii. John 3.
With few but pregnant strokes of his pencil, St. John
sketches for us, in this brief Letter, three men, of each
of whom it is worth our while to form as clear a concep-
tion as we can — Demetrius, Diotrophes, and Gaius.
Two of these have already engaged our attention. We
found Demetrius to have been an evangelist, a travelling
evangelist or missionary, who, for the love he bore to
the Name (of Christ), had devoted himself to the service
of the Gentiles, at the cost of many toils, privations,
perils ; and who was animated by a spirit so disin-
terested and brave, by a zeal so ardent and sustained,
that he won for himself the testimony of all who were
capable of appreciating truth and goodness, of the very
truth itself, and of the revered and beloved Apostle
John. Diotrophes, on the other hand, though he may
have had his good points — and must have had them,
or why should he have joined the Church at the cost
GAIUS. 269
of breaking with the world? — was a man who carried
the spirit and methods of the world into the Church,
and was as self-seeking and self-confident as ever,
although he now veiled his self-regarding ends under
the forms and phrases of Religion. St. John only
charges him with two faults, vanity and loquacity, and
neither of these charges may sound very grave. But
when a man is so vain, so bent on supremacy as that,
to assert his supremacy and indulge his vanity, he is
capable of cruelty and intolerance, casting out of the
Church all who stand in his way or differ from him ;
when he is so loquacious as to be capable of prating
wicked or malicious words rather than hold his tongue
or suffer the Church to defer to any guidance but his
own, his faults, however innocent they may seem, have
grown and darkened into crimes as fatal to the health
of his own soul as they are to the peace and welfare
of the Church. And it was because the vanity and
talkativeness of Diotrophcs, long cherished and long
indulged, had reached this exorbitant and criminal
pitch that St. John rebuked and threatened to expose
him.
We are now to study the character of Gaius, the
sincere and generous host of Demetrius, the quiet but
sturdy opponent of the intolerance and tyranny of
Diotrophcs ; and the study should be very welcome to
us since, if he has not climbed so high as the fervent
270 GAIUS.
and zealous Evangelist, still less has he fallen so low
as the prating lover of pre-eminence who would not
defer even to the Apostle himself. He is more on our
level, it may be, than either of the other two, and reveals
a strain of character which should not be beyond our
reach.
With his first touch St. John strikes the ground-note,
or the key-note, of the whole music which went to make
up the character of the man, Gaius was one who
" walked in truth" and so walked in it that men " bore
witness to his t7-iitk." The Greek word here rendered
" truth " might, if the change were worth making, be
rendered " reality." But neither word, and indeed no
one English word, conveys, or can convey, its whole
meaning and force, the entire circle of its implications,
to those who are ignorant of the Original. Even in a
paraphrase I am only too likely to omit some shade of
significance which I should be glad to include. But
if I say that Gaius was a true man, a genuine man,
a real man, whose life was all of one piece, whose daily
conduct was the practical outcome and inference from
the truths he believed, I may perhaps help you to some
conception of the Apostle's meaning. Still he implies
much more than he says, and we must try to recover his
implications also.
We may, and must, infer from his stress on the word
" truth " that Gaius cared more for deeds than for words ;
GAIUS. 271
that there was not that unhappy divorce between his
professions and his actions, his creed and his conduct,
which we may sec in Diotrophes and recognize only too
clearly in ourselves. He did not look one way, and
walk another. He did not say one thing, and mean
another. He did not approve the better, and follow the
worse, course. There was no hypocrisy, no insincerity,
in him. He, the whole man, was " /// the truth;" or,
as wc might phrase it, the truth was /;/ him, had taken
possession of him, reigned in his heart, ruled his life ;
and that so evidently that, though he must have had his
slips and faults, men felt as they looked at him, " This
man is true, true to himself, true to his creed, true to
his Master ; we know where to have him ; we can trust
him, and foretell his course. Come what may, no
danger, no allurement, will draw or drive him from his
stedfast and habitual round, or make him unfaithful
to the faith and service of Christ."
And we may also infer that Gains was not one who
would bring the spirit and methods of the world into the
Church. Diotrophes might be as selfish, as opinionated,
as ambitious, as subtle and scheming, as he was before
he had entered the Christian fellowship, and might
pursue his ends with the old eagerness and conceit and
loquacity, pushing himself forward, and keeping a fore-
most place in it, by the very means by which he had
sought eminence and success in the world. But that
272 GAIUS.
was not possible to a true man, a genuine Christian,
such as Gaius, who really believed the truth as it is in
Jesus, and cared for nothing so much as to be conformed
in heart and life to the gentle, lowly, and unworldly Son
of Man.
Nor, again, could a true man, in the Apostle's sense,
yield to that still more subtle and fatal temptation by
vvhich those are overcome in whom religion degenerates,
as it seems to have done in Diotrophes, into mere eccle-
siasticism or sectarianism ; who consider themselves
good servants of Christ, and even pillars of his Church,
if they make a stand for orthodoxy, or busily engage
in the management of Church affairs, and set themselves
to promote sectional or denominational interests. True
religion does not consist in, it is not always consistent
with, an eager devotion to doctrines and sacraments and
Church business, but in a repentance which is ever
growing more deep, in a righteousness ever growing
more pure, in a charity ever growing more warm and
large. A too keen and exclusive interest in the outside
of the cup and the platter is as dangerous in the Church
as it is anywhere else. And it has become too exclusive
and keen when we care comparatively little for the food
which ought to be in the platter, and the wine which
ought to be in the cup, or so partake of them as that
we do not grow in wisdom, in holiness, in love to God
and man.
GAJUS. 273
From all these faults and errors Gaius was free. Of
an incorrigible and losing honesty, it was his distinction
that he was in the truth, and that he was walkiNq; i.e.,
growing and advancing, in the truth of Christ ; that the
truth was making him true — true in thought, in motive,
in word, in deed, insomuch that when the eye saw him,
it bore witness unto him.
St. James has taught us (Chap. i. 27) that unworldli-
ness and charity constitute the true ritualism of the
Christian Church, that these arc the main forms in which
a pure and undefilcd religion now finds expression.
And the charity of Gaius was as conspicuous as h*is
unworldliness. Not only had he received and enter-
tained strangers, who were also brethren, setting forward
Demetrius and other travelling evangelists on- their
journey ; he continued to receive and serve them even
when Diotrophes forbad him, and had persuaded the
Church to excommunicate those who ventured to receive
them. He could do no other ; for he walked in truth.
He believed that all who were in Christ were his breth-
ren, even though they were strangers to him ; and he
was bound to treat them as his brethren, even though,
for being true to his convictions, he was cut off from
the body of Christ.
What it was exactly at which Diotrophes took offence
whether in St. John or in Demetrius and his fellows, we
arc not told ; but, as I tried to shew in my last discourse,
19
274 GAIUS.
it seems probable that he objected to the missionaries
from Ephesus because they were strangers, or because
they did not defer to him as he thought they should do
to a man of his consequence. Nor are we told how he
induced a majority of his fellow-members to follow him,
and to cast out those who would not follow him ; but it
seems probable, as I also tried to shew you, that he
appealed to their love and respect for the memory of
St. Paul, the venerated founder of their Church, and
turned their love of St. Paul into a jealousy of St. John's
authority, if not into a suspicion of his teaching. When
the beloved Apostle complains, " Diotrophes receiveth
not tisl' but " prateth against us with malicious words,"
we cannot but suspect that Diotrophes had set the less
wise and experienced members of the Church on asking :
" What right has John to interfere in our affairs ? " or
even, " Is not John departing from the lines of thought
and action laid down by Paul, and preaching another
^gospel than his ? " And if these questions were once
asked, and answered as Diotrophes would have them
answered, it is easy to see that Gaius' fidelity to the
truth would be heavily taxed. But, because he was in
the truth and walked in the truth, he had room in his
heart for all who taught, and loved, and served the
truth. St. John was as dear to him as St. Paul, and the
truths taught by the one Apostle elicited a response
from him as quick and fervent as the truths taught by
GAIUS. 275
the other : for it is not men who arc /// the truth, but
only those who hang on to its skirts, who are afraid
of any truth with which they are not already familiar.
Nor was he to be talked out of his loyalty to truth, or
threatened out of it. Truth in every form was welcome
to him, let who would teach it, let who would prate
against it. It was his duty to receive brethren even if
they were strangers. It was his duty to listen to all
who had the mind of Christ, even though they knew
more of that Mind than he did. And he must do his
duty, even though for doing it he were cast out from a
fellowship which was very dear to him.
A certain genuineness and wholeness, then, a certain
staunchness and loyalty, combined with great breadth
and tolerance, seems to have been characteristic of the
hospitable and kindly Gains. He was in the truth,
lie walked in truth. There was a clear accord, a
fruitful harmony, between his principles and his practice
which gave unity and force to his life. He could be
true to truth, come whence it would. He could be true
to men, even when they were reviled and thrust out of
the Church. He could be true to the claims of Christian
charity, even when his fidelity would shut him out from
communion with men whom he loved and had served.
In fine, he was a man who stood on his own feet, used
his own eyes, and was faithful to the inspirations of the
Divine Comforter and Guide who had taken up his
276 GAIUS.
abode with him. And, in St. Paul's striking phrase, he
" tnitJied it in love" cherishing and exhibiting a charity
from which I suspect that not even Diotrophes him-
self was excluded, and which utterly refused to let
Demetrius go even when world and Church combined
against him.
Now this large, stcdfast, yet gentle loyalty to truth is
as essential to a genuine, a real and strong, Christian
character now as it was then ; a loyalty which can not
only stand against the narrow intolerance of a Dio-
trophes, and sympathize with the disinterested zeal of
a Demetrius, but can also bring the large generous
truths in which we believe to bear upon our daily life
and practice, and constrain us to receive and set forward
all who are serving the truth, " that we may be fellow-
workers with the truth " they teach. Before we can put
ourselves even on the modest level of Gaius, we must
ask ourselves, " What risks have we run, what sacrifices
have we made, what pleasant fellowships have we put in
jeopardy, that we might stand up for unpopular truths,
or back up the men who were enforcing and defending
them .'' What toil and pain have we undergone that we
might bring our daily conduct into harmony with our
convictions ? What good causes have we served and
set forward, in the persons of their advocates, that wc
might have our share in the good work .-'" If we cannot
give a fairly satisfactory answer to such questions as
GAIUS. 277
these, I do not say that our faith is vain, or that we
have no religion ; but I do say that our religion has not
the genuine ring, that wc have not compelled men to
bear witness to our truth, much less compelled the truth
itself to bear witness to us.
There are men, no doubt, who have a terrible struggle
to wage in the sacred precincts of their own soul before
they can make religion the ruling influence and power
of their lives ; and of these, perhaps, we must not expect
much public service until the issue of the inward conflict
has been decided ; though I believe that, even in this
inward personal war, they would be greatly aided were
tlicy to make it more impersonal, and to care and con-
tend for the salvation of other men instead of simply
fighting for their own hand. And there are other men
who are so engrossed and exhausted by the labours and
cares, the occupations and irritations, of their daily
business that they have as much as they can do in
bringing the spirit of religion to bear on their daily
task, and have neither leisure nor energy left for works
of public usefulness. But, remember, those who are
thus occupied and absorbed by business duties or house-
hold cares, in their strenuous endeavour to bring their
daily life under law to Christ, are building up a character
which is possibly the best contribution they can make to
the service of the Church, and are hourly bearing witness
to the elevating and ennobling power of the truth.
278 GAIUS.
Remember, we are not told that Gaius talked Dio-
trophes down, or that he made a masterly defence of
St. John, or even that he took a prominent part whether
in managing the affairs or conducting the services of the
Church. All we are told of him is that he shewed much
sympathy with the strangers whom John had commended
to the Church, that his sympathy took very practical
forms, and that he exercised it at the risk, and perhaps
at the cost, of losing the sympathy of brethren who were
not strangers, and with whom he habitually worshipped.
He may have been, he may have done, far more than
this, for we have only a momentary photograph of him
in a single attitude ; and for myself I sometimes think
of him as the doing iS,/'1',y»)) now by "life" and
now by "soul" as, in their judgment, best suits the context. This
departure from their usual rule will not perplex any thoughtful
reader if only he remember that, in the mind of Jesus, the only
true and proper life of man is the life of the soul, and that it is
of this that He is speaking throughout.
See last Discourse.
302 THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL.
(i) Every man, as St. James reminds us, has his own
lust, passion, craving. And " every man is tempted
when he is drawn aside by his own lust, and enticed."
Suppose that such a moment has come to you. Your
special lust, the passionate desire or craving to which
you are most prone, has drawn you into some spot, just
off the path of duty, where you meet an opportunity
of indulging it. Nobody will know ; nobody will be
the worse for what you say or do — or so you persuade
yourself. By a momentary deviation from the course
of integrity or of purity, you may make much gain or
get a great pleasure. And your choice must be prompt,
immediate, or the opportunity will be gone. For the
moment, and under the pressure of your passionate
craving, you may feel as though your very life depends
on your allowing yourself the indulgence you so keenly
crave, that nothing else is worth a thought, that if you
cannot have this life is not worth living. You yield.
You suffer your lust to bring forth sin. And when the
deed is done, and the flush of excitement is past, do you
fail to find that sin, when it is mature, bringeth forth
death ? If nobody else is the worse, are not you worse }
Are you not conscious that the whole tone of your life
is lowered, its volume lessened, its current polluted }
Are you not aware that you are less sensitive to all
pure and high spiritual influences, more at the mercy of
the cravings and appetites which you have indulged, less
THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL. 303
able to resist the next temptation ? What have you
done? You have wronged, injured, impoverished your
own soul. What otlier proof, then, do you need that, in
seeking to gain your life, you have lost it — lost hold
and command of it, lessened its force, lowered its level ?
On the other hand, if you resist the temptation and
overcome it ; if, because you have formed a habit of
listening to the voice of conscience rather than to that
of passion or desire, you are able to stand in your quick
moment of trial, are you not conscious, when the moment
and the pain of the moment have passed, that your life
has gained new force and vigour? If, because you recog-
nize your frailty, your heart is full of humble gratitude
to the God who has enabled you to stand, and you go
on your way with songs of praise, do you not feel that
you have acquired a new and warmer love of all that is
good, that the best things have grown dearer to you,
and more desirable, and more within your reach ? that
the volume of your life has been enlarged, its tone
raised ? What further proof do you require, then, that,
in losing, you have quickened your life, your true life,
the life of the soul ?
(2) Turn our theme round ; look at its other side.
Moments of unusual exaltation are as critical and de-
cisive as moments of strong temptation. When the
truth as it is in Jesus has been brought home to you —
or, indeed, when any great truth, or unselfish impulse,
304 THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL.
or generous aspiration has been so brought home to you
that your spirit within you has been deeply moved ;
when the spiritual alternative has been impressively
placed before you, and you have felt that you must
choose between the law of Christ and the law of the
world, — if you have made the wrong choice, have you
not known that it was the wrong choice? If, because
you could not discard your selfish and worldly aims and
fling your whole heart into the service of God and his
Christ, you have let this happy chance slip by ; if, z>.,
you have declined to make the love and pursuit of
truth and righteousness and charity your ruling aim, but
have, although so deeply moved, continued to put ease,
comfort, success first ; if you have thus reversed the true
order of things, subordinated that which is spiritual to
that which is sensuous, and that which is eternal to that
which is temporal, have you not presently found that
your life was the poorer and the weaker for your
decision ? that it had declined to a lower level, a nar-
rower range, and drew you down more and more toward
the plane at which truth itself may seem to be a liar,
and all goodness of doubtful worth or too high to be
attained? If so, you know what it is to lose your life
while seeking to gain it ; for there is a sense in which a
man's life does consist in that which he desires and to
which he cleaves.
On the contrary, if you have seized upon and redeemed
THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL. 305
the opportunity ; if you have yielded to the gracious
influences of the moment and to the inward voices
which urged you to respond to it ; if you have dedicated
yourself afresh to the service of God, and have been able
to count the world well lost that you might win Christ
and be found in Him : if, in a word, you have preferred
spiritual things to carnal and eternal to temporal things,
and have thus maintained the true order of the soul, —
has not your soul been quickened within you ? has not
your choice given it new life, swelling its volume, aug-
menting its vigour, elevating its tone ?• Resting on the
housetop, or working in the field, you have heard the
voice of Christ ; and, not conferring with*flesh and blood,
your whole nature has instantly responded to his call, so
that you have not gone down into the house or back
from the field to fetch away some lesser and inferior
good, but have wholly committed yourself unto Him:
and your soul has grown strong and pure and glad
within you.
Is not our paradox true, then ? Have you not found
it true that whosoever, in these critical moments of
decision, seeks to gain his life loses it, but whosoever is
willing to lose it quickens it into life eternal ?
Christ came to Peter at the moment in which Peter
fell, Peter had tJicn to make an instant choice, to
decide whether he would own Christ or disown Him.
And he made the wrong choice. Seeking to save his
3o6 THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL.
life, he lost it, and went out to weep bitterly for the life,
or even for the soul, he had lost, yet was to find again.
You remember, every one remembers, the story of his
temptation and his fall. But have you observed, do you
remember, that, in the temptation before which he fell,
there was another, a more subtle and strong temptation ;
and that into this lower deep he did not fall ? When he
had denied his Master, his temptation was to lose all
faith in the Master he had denied, and all hope for him-
self ; to assume that his Master could never forgive him,
much less recover him from the depth to which he had
fallen. But, with him at least, denial was not allowed
to sink into despair. " I have prayed for thee," said
Christ, '' tJiat tliy faith fail not ; and when thou art
converted, strengthen thy brethren." The prayer was
answered. Much as his heart misgave him, Peter's faith
in Christ, in the pity and grace of Christ, did not fail.
If by yielding to his first temptation, he impoverished
his life, by resisting the second and greater temptation
he quickened and enriched his life, his soul gathered
such strength that he was able to strengthen and con-
firm the wavering faith of his brethren.
And so we are led to the practical lesson and conclu-
sion at which I have been aiming. I spoke to you, in
my last Discourse, of the infinite value of these critical
moments of decision, and urged you not to suffer one
of them to pass unused. But now I supplement that
THE QUICKENING OF THE SOUL. 307
warning by reminding you that, even if you /^rzt-^ suffered
such moments to pass unused, you must not lose faith,
you need not despair. Peter fell before one temptation,
and yet did not fall before the next and stronger temp-
tation. Thomas missed one happy chance, the chance
of shewing that he could believe even where he could
not see ; but he had many such chances afterward, and
did not miss thorn. And if any of }-ou are sorrowfully
conscious that you have not been true to that better life
of which Christ is tlie pattern and the source, if you
know and lament that you have often suffered the world
and the flesh to be too much with you and too much for
you, and that you have thus weakened and impoverished
your life ; or if you feel that you have often been deeply
moved by the power of his truth or the appeal of his
grace, and yet have not quickened and released new
powers of life within }-our souls by an instant and
whole-hearted response to his claim and call, still do not
despair. Christ comes to you once more to-day ; once
more He asks you to seek first his kingdom and
righteousness, to make life in Him your ruling and
supreme aim ; and many as are the opportunities you
liave missed, and much as )-ou may have impoverished
}'our life by missing them, yet if you now respond, if
you commit yourselves to Him, if you seize and use the
new chance He offers you, all will yet be well with you ;
and }-ou may )-et find your life quickened into life eternal.
XXII.
DIVINE GUESTS.
"Jesus answered and said unto him : If a man love me, he will
keep my word ; and my Father will love him, and we will come
unto him, and make our abode with him." — John xiv. 23.
It is St. John who reports most of the Convei'sations in
which our Lord took part. But for him, indeed, we
should hardly have known how great, as a talker, Jesus
was, how He elicited the best thoughts and deepest
aspirations of the men and women with whom He
conversed ; and then met their thought and satisfied
their aspirations. He did not reserve Himself for great
occasions and a large audience. Many of his finest and
noblest sayings were uttered in the ears of few, or even
of one ; as, for instance, when He talked with Nico-
dcmus, or with the woman of Samaria, or, as here, when
He talked privately with the Twelve. If the audience
were but " fit," it mattered nothing to Him how " few "
it was.
We are apt to think and speak of this Chapter as
part of the great "discourse" of Christ after He had
DIVINE GUESTS. 309
instituted the Supper, in which we still commemorate
his crowning act of love. But it is a conversation,
rather than a discourse. Thomas, and Philip, and Judas
— the true Judas, not the false — all take part in it as
well as Jesus ; and it is in answer to the question of
Judas that He utters the great and gracious saying of
my text.
He had been telling the Twelve that, though the
world would no longer see Him, they should see Him ;
that He will still manifest Himself to ihem, though He
can no longer manifest Himself to the world at large.
And Judas is perplexed ; he cannot make out how this
new method of manifestation is possible, or what has
happened to necessitate the change. Jesus, as He Him-
self affirmed before the High Priest (John xviii, 20), had
ev_er " spoken openly to the world, in synagogues and in
the temple, where all the Jews come together;" in secret
He had spoken nothing. Was He, and why was He,
about to change his method ? " Lord," asks the wonder-
ing disciple, " what has come to pass that thou wilt
manifest thyself unto us, and not unto the world?"
Even yet the Disciples had not realized that He was
about to leave them — to leave the world which had
been so inhospitable to Him, to ascend up on high, and
thence to shew Himself only in and through hearts pre-
pared to receive Him by love and obedience. And so
He has to explain to them once more that He is going
3IO DIVINE GUESTS.
to the Father ; that He is about to leave a world which
hated Him ; and to manifest Himself in future only to
those who loved Him and kept his word, that they
might carry Him and his word out into all the world. But
to tJiem, to as many as love and obey Him, He promises
not only his own presence, his own love, but also the
presence and love of his Father : we will come to them,
and not only come, but make our abode with them.
If we have any love for Christ, then, the promise is to
us, and to our children. And as we listen to it, and
enter into its gracious significance, our first emotion is
one of unutterable thankfulness and joy. We say :
" What a gracious, what a delightful, promise ! It
guarantees all that we can ask or desire." And, per-
haps, it is ; perhaps, it does.
" Perhaps!" you exclaim. " If you love us, and love
the Word you preach, how can you take that cold,
hesitating tone ? What could be more delightful than
to have our Father and our Saviour always with us ? "
And I can only plead, in reply, that I have found
many things which sounded very delightful to the ear
of hope, not wholly delightful when they became facts
in our spiritual experience. Most Christian persons,
for example, assume that they want to go, that it will
be delightful to go, to heaven. And yet how grave they
look if the doctor hints that there is any chance of their
going there soon ! how they weep and lament when
DIVINE G UES TS. 311
their friends arc actually taken where it is so delightful
to go !
Hence when I hear any of them greeting such a
promise as this with rapture, or speaking of it as so
comfortable, so delightful, I do not admit that I shew
any want of love for them, or for the Word I preach, if,
before I rejoice in their joy, I pause to consider, and ask
them to consider, whether they are quite prepared to
receive as their guests and inmates the Father almighty
and the Son of his love ; whether they have fully counted
the cost of offering hospitality to these Divine Guests.
It is a great promise ; but are we great enough to
receive it, and to welcome its fulfilment? Is there
nothing questionable in our habits, or even in our ruling
tone and bent — no baseness, no frivolity, no worldliness,
no selfishness, no inner vileness — which might well
make us shrink from a Presence so pure and august ?
Are we really prepared, do we really want, to have God
with us, in the home and in the world, in our business
and our amusements, that He may see all we do, hear
all we say ; and that, in all, we may look up into his
face for guidance, for sympathy, for approval ?
To have the eternal Father and the ever-living Re-
deemer of our souls with us, and within us, as we pass
across the shifting sands of Time — with no home and
no rest unless we can find our rest and home in ///<•///—
is in very deed the only adequate source of strength and
312 DIVINE GUESTS.
joy. But, if they come to us, they come to take the
first place in our hearts, not the second, much less the
last : if they come, they come to make the heart in
which they find a home a temple, into which nothing
sordid or selfish or unclean may enter; come," therefore,
to slay all our sins and sinful affections and desires ;
come, even, to take away all comforts, all successes, all
habits, all joys that are transient, imperfect, unreal, or
inimical to our true and lasting welfare.
Are you quite prepared for all that, my friends ?
And if you are, do you suppose that it will all be simply
delightful ? The end of it, indeed, will be delightful
beyond all telling : but will there be no trouble by the
way ? That the infinite God will deign to be my guest,
that He will reveal Himself to me as my Father and my
Saviour ; that, under all the changes and sorrows of
time, I should be assured that He loves me, and should
know, amid all the fluctuating and despairing moods of
the soul, that He is saving me, — this is a most gracious
promise ; there is none like it, none so sustaining, puri-
fying, ennobling : but is there no touch of awe and
mystery and discipline in it, to make me grave as well
as glad when I receive it? thoughtful and resolved when
I fling myself on it and commit myself to it, rather than
light-hearted and gay ?
How full it is both of grace and awe an illustration or
two may bring home to us. There was once a woman,
DIVINE GUESTS. 313
a woman of Samaria, with whom Jesus lodged for a few
minutes, accepting her hospitality, if at least wc may
dignify a cup of cold water with that name ; as wc mfty :
for has not lie Himself told us that even this poor gift
shall in nowise fail of its reward ? And as He sat with
her by the well, and drank of her pitcher, how graciously
He talked with her, pouring into her single ear sayings
so pregnant with thought and so sublime as that they
have raised the whole level of human thought, and the
world will never let them die : sayings, for example,
such as this ; " God is Spirit ; and they that worship
Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth," Did
He not in such sayings as this manifest both Himself
and his Father to the frail sinful woman ? And yet did
she find the process altogether delightful ? Was it these
great sayings, was it this sublime manifestation, which
most of all impressed and moved her ; which persuaded
her that He was both a Prophet and the Messiah to
whom all the prophets bore witness ? By no means.
What most of all impressed her we learn from her invi-
tation to the men of Samaria, " Come, see a man who
told me all things that ever I diiV — told me all things,
though of herself He had told her only one 1 What
touched her most closely was his command, " Go, call
thy husband, and come hither." At that word her whole
evil and dissolute life flashed before her eyes, and her
heart was wrung with a saving shame.
314 DIVINE GUESTS.
Not delight by any means, then, but shame and
remorse for her manifold sins, as she saw them reflected
from his pure face, was the first effect of Christ's coming
to her, and revealing to her the Father who was to be wor-
shipped neither on Gerizim nor at Jerusalem, but in the
sanctities, the love and obedience, of a pure and dutiful
life. And yet who docs not see that she could only
become clean by making a clean breast to Him of her
sins ; that only as she passed through this cloud of
shame and sorrow, and penitently acknowledged her
transgression of the law of womanhood and the law of
God, could she become a new creature, with a clean
heart and a right spirit ? Who docs not see that, for
her at least, delight in the presence of Christ, in fellow-
ship with the Father and the Son, could only be reached
as she passed through a saving agony of contrition and
self-abasement ?
And who may not gather hope for himself from a due
consideration of her experience ? Sinful as she was we
may be, and, our conditions and opportunities fairly
allowed for, far more sinful. And hence, if God and
the Son of God should ," come " to sojourn with us, we
may at first be overpowered by a sense of our impurity
and uncleanncss. If they should "abide" with us, this
sense of sin and shame may be renewed again and again.
But it is not by cloaking and dissembling our sins before
Almighty God that we can be cleansed from our sins.
DIVINE GUESTS. 315
It is only by being made to feci them more and more
deeply, and to confess them with a more and more
contrite heart, that we can be absolved and freed from
tliem, and enter into the peace of his forgiving and
redeeming love.
Take another illustration. There was once a nation
with whom God "abode" for two thousand years, speak-
ing to them and revealing his will by his servants the
prophets, and inviting them to maintain a direct and
unbroken communion with Him. Though they never
prospered save as they recognized and rejoiced in his
Presence, they never cared much to have Him with them,
so terrible was the contrast between his holiness and their
unholiness. And at last, when He sent his Son, full of
grace and truth, to tabernacle with them, when, as we
believe. He Himself came and dwelt among them in the
person of his Son; when, i.e., God came nearer to them
than ever, and revealed Himself to them in more gracious
and inviting forms, they rejected Him with every sign of
loathing and scorn.
Did He, therefore, reject and abandon them, and blot
their names for ever from the book of life 1 Nay, but in
his love and in his pity He died for them, and died to
take away their sin in rejecting Him — with such Divine
art did He betray them for their good. They took their
own wild wilful way ; and yet it proved to be his way
after all, his way for their redemption and the redemp-
3i6 DIVINE GUESTS.
tion of the world. He would not so much as blame
them, or have them blamed. With his dying breath he
cried, " Father, forgive them ; they know not what they
do." He would not even admit that it was they who
took his life from Him. " No man taketh it from me," He
said, " but I lay it down of myself, and lay it down that
I may take it up again, and abide with them, and bear
with them, and win upon them, till I have redeemed them
from their sins, and have put my law into their minds and
written it on their hearts."
And so all Israel, old and new, was saved. Not saved
as yet indeed ; nor do we yet see how all are to be saved.
But, as we look back, we see all along the line of those
who would not have Him to reign over them a long array
of elect, i.e., of loving and childlike, souls, of clear and
great spirits, who learned to delight in Him, through
whatever pangs of shame and penitence they rose to their
rest in Him. While the great bulk of the people were
stiffening into a Sadducean scepticism or a Pharisaic
bigotry, He was training a few prophetic souls in every
generation to receive Him, to carry his words — nay, to
carry Him — in their hearts ; and to give Him to the true
Israel, the elect spirits of the world, to the open and re-
ceptive spirits of all who desired the truth. For, by other
means, He had all along been training other men, in
other lands, for a faithful reception of Him and of his
Word. If they were not all Israel who were in the
DIVINE GUESTS. 317
Israelite fold, He had "other sheep" who were not of
that fold, but were nevertheless of his flock. And these
too, as He said, Mc nfiust bring in. Hence the elect
Jews, the faithful Remnant, to whom his word gave life,
went out into all the world and preached his gospel to
every creature. In the person of their successors, they
still carry on the work and service of his love. And in
the end, so we are assured both by his Spirit and by his
Word, all Israel is to be saved, the fulness of the Gentiles
is to be brought in, and there shall be one fold, and one
Shepherd. The long agony of the ages is to close in
the birth of a new earth and a new heaven, in the gift of
a new heart and a new spirit to all the sons of men.
Christ is to see of the travail of his soul ; and, having
drawn all men unto Himself, is to be satisfied.
This is the crowning illustration of the redeeming ways
of God. And, surely, it brings home to us, as none other
could, at once the awfulness and the grace of the great
promise of my text. What have not God and the Son
of God had to endure that they might dwell with the
world ! What pangs of shame have men had to suffer,
what agonies of contrition, what a discipline of chasten-
ing and rebuke, have they still to endure before they
could, or can, abide with God ! And yet is not the end
worth it all ? When the end is reached, and we have
learned to delight ourselves in Him, shall we not forget
the anguish for joy that a new world, a new race, has
3i8 DIVINE GUESTS.
been born ? born to God, and to fellowship with God ;
and therefore born to a peace past all understanding, to
a joy unspeakable because so full of glory ?
But we need not wait for the end. The promise, great
as it is, may, so far as zve are concerned, be fulfilled now
and here. Our Lord is not speaking wholly or mainly
of the future when He says, " If a man love me, he will
keep my word ; and my Father will love him, and we
will come unto him, and make our abode with him." To
some of us Father and Son Jiave come again and again ;
come, at first, to calm and curb our hot passionate spirits,
to control our rebellious wills, to rebuke our habitual
sins ; but come also to cleanse us from the stains of
guilt, to purge us from the love of sin, to redeem us from
our bondage to evil habit, to lift us out of our worldliness
and selfishness, to set new and higher aims before us, to
kindle new and purer affections within us. We have
been put to shame indeed, but it has been a saving
shame. If we have been shaken at times with a passion
of contrition, we have also felt the healing power of
forgiveness. If we are still far from all perfection, none
the less we still cherish the hope of being made perfect.
However we doubt our love for God, we do not doubt
his love for us, or are not suffered to doubt it for more
than a moment ; not because we deserve it, any more
than Israel or the world at large deserved it, but because
we know that God is love, and that He cannot deny Him-
DIVINE GUESTS. 319
self. And so, though this promise is still full of awe for
us, it is also full of grace. We find in it a sentence of
death on ail that is sinful or imperfect in our nature, and
we know that to i)art with some of our sinful habits and
imperfections must be hard for us and full of pain ; but
we also know that we can only reach our proper perfec-
tion and blessedness as wc are constrained to give them
up ; and, for the joy set before us, we are content to
endure — in our best moods, we despise— the pain.
Nor is there any reason, save one, why all men should
not enter into the fruition of this great and sustaining
Promise. It is made to " any," />., to every, man. That
is to say, it is made to an\' and every man who is willing
to love and to obey. "If any man love me, and keep viy
li'onl, . . . we will come to him, and make our abode
with him." This is the sole condition. And the condi-
tion is not artificial or arbitrary, but natural and in-
evitable. For how can God's presence be any blessing,
or at least any happiness, to you, if you do not love Him,
and love to have Him with you ? How can He abide
with you, if your will is opposed to his? or how, at least,
can you take any pleasure in having Him with you ?
lUit if you really and honestly desire to have God
always with you ; if amid all the changes and sorrows of
time, and under all the fluctuating moods of your own
heart, you care to feel that He is your Father and loves
you, that He is your Redeemer and is bent on saving
320 DIVINE GUESTS.
you ; if, in a word, you long to be redeemed from all care
and qll fear — here is the offer of his grace and love to
you. He Himself tells you that He is your Father, and
that his love can never change ; He Himself assures you
that He is your Redeemer, that He has taken away your
sin, and that, in proportion as you are prepared to receive
and welcome Him, He will come and abide with you,
that He may work in you both to love and to do all the
good pleasure of his will. You have but to open the
doors of Love and Duty, and through these open doors
the God of all grace and consolation will enter in, and so
dwell with you that, both here and hereafter, you may
dwell with Him.
XXIII.
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
"And the day of unleavened bread came, on which the passover
must be sacrificed. And he sent Peter and Jchn, saying, Go and
make ready for us the passover, that we may eat. And they said
unto him, Where wilt thou that we make ready ? And he said unto
them. Behold, when ye are entered into the city, there shall meet
you a man bearing a pitcher of water ; follow him into the house
whereinto he goeth. And ye shall say unto the goodman of the
house. The Master saith unto Ihee, Where is the guest-chamber,
where I shall eat the passover with my disciples ? And he will
shew you a large upper room furnished : there make ready. And
they went, and found as he had said unto them ; and they made
ready the passover." — Luke xxii. 7-13.
The incident recorded in these Verses is invested with
an air of mystery at variance with the habitual simplicity
and sincerity of Christ. There are men of a habit so fur-
tive and secret that straightforwardness is almost impos-
sible to them. They are for ever " fetching a compass,"
looking one way and rowing another, and would hardly
care to reach the end they most desire unless they had
secured it by stratagem. But there was nothing furtive
or indirect about Him. He went straight to his ends with
the simple fearlessness of one who has no private end to
22
322 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
serve, and who, so far from finding gain in others' loss, is
willing to lose all for their good. And yet it is impossible
to deny that there is an appearance of indirectness, an
air of secrecy, in the way in which He indicates to his
Apostles the goodman at whose house He had arranged,
or determined, to keep the passover. He knew the
man's name well enough ; and so, in all probability did
tJiey. For the man was one of his few disciples in Jeru-
salem, as we learn from the salutation He puts into the
mouth of the Two who are to meet him. They are to
say to him, " TJie Master^' — i.e., the Teacher, the Rabbi,
of whom you wot, whom you acknowledge to be your
teacher and master — " bids you shew us the room in which
he is to eat " — in which He has arranged with you to
eat — " the passover with his disciples."
Jesus knew the man's name, then ; and so did the
Twelve. For one of them, St. Matthew (Chap. xxvi. i8),
reports our Lord as saying, " Go into the city to such a
man ; " and the Greek phrase for " such an one " is that
used when the writer, or speaker, knew, but did not care
to disclose, the name of the person referred to. Why,
then, does our Lord make a mystery of the goodman's
name ? Why, instead of telling them to whose house
they were to go, and mentioning a name they would
instantly have recognized, does He send them from
Bethany to the great and crowded city of Jerusalem
to meet a man bearing a pitcher, and to follow whither-
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 323
soever he may lead. They might meet — on this night,
as we shall sec by and bye, they were sure to meet —
hundreds and thousands of men — men, not women —
carrying jars of water from the public fountains, or from
" Siloa's sacred stream." How could they be sure that
they should light on the right man, or sure of recognizing
him if they did ? And why should they be sent out
on an adventure when it would have been so easy, by
speaking a single word, to save them from all perplexity
and all risk ?
The answer to that question has commonly been
rendered thus, Jesus was about to be taken from the
disciples who had hitherto looked to Him for guidance
and protection. Before He left them, He wished to
comfort them by giving them one more proof of his
prescience and power ; ,by shewing them that He knew
what was taking place at a distance, that He could fore-
see what would take place /// the future ; that I le could
so order even the minutest details of human life as to'
make them subserve the purposes of his wisdom and
love. He does not tell them to whose house they are to
go, nor where it stood, in order that they may see that,
while at Bethany, He knows what is going on at Jeru-
salem, knows even what tt'/// be going on an hour or two
hence ; what " the goodman " will be doing, w here they
will find him, and that He can so time and arrange their
actions and his that they and he will be brought together
324 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
at the very moment and under the very conditions which
He had anticipated. And He took this strange indirect
course with them, because He wanted to convince them
that He could both see and guide them when He should
be removed from them ; because He wanted to teach
them that He would still be with them when they would
think of Him as absent and distant, that He would still
be watching over them, and directing them in all their
ways in that future to which they looked forward with
so much dread because He would no longer be with
them.
Now I am far from denying that this is the true solu-
tion of the mystery, and indicates the true, and most
beautiful and consolatory, lesson we are to learn from
it. All I contend for is, that it is not reached in the
right way. For Jesus did not invent difficulties to shew
how easily He could overcome them ; nor did He make
the path of his disciples dubious and perplexing to them
even to teach them how wise and good He was. His
character and his method alike warrant us in assuming
that there must have been some clear, natural, and suf-
ficient reason in the circumstances in which He and they
were placed that compelled Him to give them a secret
sign instead of a plain address. At all events, what we
know of Him — of his simplicity, sincerity, straightfor-
wardness — should lead us to look for some such reason
in the conditions of the hour, and decline to believe that
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 325
He was simply exhibiting his prescience and power,
without reason and without cause.
And if we set out on that search, we shall not have
to look far for the reason which induced and compelled
Ilim to take a course in which He appears unlike Him-
self, but is, indeed, in a most true accord with Himself
The secret is latent in the Verses which immediately
precede my text, and will become plain and clear to
us so soon as we reali/.e the incident they record, and
connect it with the incident before us.
From these Verses, then, we learn that the Jewish
Sanhedrin feared a tumult if they arrested Jesus while
Jerusalem was thronged withGalilean and other strangers,
over whom they had little influence and less power.
Determined to slay Him, they were "seeking how they
might put him to death " without exciting and exas-
perating the people. " Not during the feast," they said,
" while all these strangers are about who run after Him,
lest they should turn upon us and rend us ; but before,
or after." But in vain did they take counsel together.
He that sitteth in the heavens laughed at them. For
it was precisely during the Feast, and not before or
after. He had determined that our Passover should be
sacrificed for us. When Judas offered to betray the
Nazarene into their hands secretly, " in the absence of
the multitude," they could not resist the temptation, and
thought his offer, I dare say, a manifest interposition
326 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
of Providence on their behalf. But while they meant
to use Judas for their ends, God was using both him
and them for his end — to effect, to carry out, the counsel
He had afore determined.
Probably Judas, with the calculating selfishness which
often accompanies the religious temperament, had all
along intended to use Jesus for his own ends — to secure
his own advancement, to gain wealth, power, distinction
in the kingdom which the Son of Man was to set up.
But now that he saw Him turn from a kingdom to a
cross, he resolved at least to get back into the favour
of the Chief Priests and the Pharisees. So he makes
" a covenant " with them, just as Jesus was about to
make the new covenant with his disciples and to promise
iJieni, in a higher form, all that Judas craved. The one
covenant is a dark and sinister shadow of the other.
And in this secret covenant with the priestly rulers we
have, I think, the reason and the explanation of the
secret instruction which Jesus gave to his two disciples.
For the Lord Jesus, who had long known who it was
that should betray Him, knew now that the traitor was
only watching for a secret and safe opportunity of effect-
ing his purpose. And He would do nothing to help
him ; nay. He takes thought and pains to hinder and
hold him back, even deviating from his habit of open
and straightforward dealing with his Apostles. He has
determined, He has arranged, to eat the passovcr with
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 327
them at a certain house in Jerusalem. The eve of the
day on which the passover lamb must be killed in the
temple, and all the preparations for the Feast must be
completed, has arrived. He must send to remind his
friend in the City of the arrangement they have made,
to assure him that He intends to abide by it ; and He
must also despatch messengers whom He can trust to
get the lamb slain by the priests on the appointed day,
and to make all ready for the last occasion on which He
will break bread and drink wine with his disciples.
But why must the messengers be men whom he could
trust'? why does He not tell the whole band of his dis-
ciples what He is about to do } why have recourse to a
sign? Simply because, if Judas should come to knoiu of
this quiet meeting iu a retired house, he would feel that his
opportunity had come, and proceed to deliver Jesus to the
priests " in the absence of the multitude." It was con-
sideration for the traitor — it was, at least in part, to
hold him back from his enormous but not "unparalleled"
sin — that Jesus departed from his usual open course, and
made a secret of the place where He was to keep the
feast. Only on the eve of the day on which the Passover
was to be eaten did He send to prepare for it Even
then He selects for this confidential office the two
Apostles who loved Him most and on whom He could
most rely — Peter and John. And, even to them, He
mentions no name, gives no address. When they ask,
328 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
" Where wilt thou that we make ready ? " He does not
reply, " At So-and-So's, in such and such a street." He
gives them a sign. When they enter the city they will
meet a man bearing a jar of water; which may mean
that the first man they met on entering Jerusalem, or
the first man whom they knew to be one of his disciples,
would be the man whom they were to follow, and in
whose house they are to make ready. But, in either
case, they cannot foresee, though Christ can, who the
man is to be. And so, even if Judas should suspect
their errand, and try to worm out from them where they
are going, they cannot, however unconsciously, betray
their Master to him ; they cannot tell him what they
do not know : they can give him no answer that would
serve his turn. In his love and in his pity — his love for
them, his pity for Judas — to save them from a mistake
which they would have found it hard to forgive, and to
hold him back from a sin which man has not forgiven
even yet, though Christ Himself may have forgiven it
long ago. He rendered it impossible for them to betray
Him to Judas, and for Judas to betray Him to the
priests.
He was not exhibiting his power, then, nor displaying
his more than human wisdom. He was using his
prescience for their good, and that He might finish the
work which his Father had given Him to do.
And yet, if He had not been able, when need was,
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 329
to sec what was passing at a distance and to project
Himself into the future, how could He have foreknown
where the goodman would be, and how he would be
occupied, at the very moment when John and Peter
should enter the city, or how so time and guide their
steps that they should fall in with him, and not with
some one of the many other men who, at that very hour,
would be occupied with the same task ?
For though, among the Jews, it was not the men, but
the women, who commonly went to draw water from
the public fountains, yet, on tJiis night, Jewish custom
ordained that, before the stars appeared in the sky,
every head of a household should repair to a fountain
from which He could draw pure and living water to
mix with the flour from which the unleavened bread,
eaten at the feast, was to be made. Hence, in the
crowded city of Jerusalem, by the time the two Apostles
reached it, there would be hundreds, and even thousands,
of men bearing jars or pitchers of water through the
streets to their several homes.
Here, then, in this historical fact, we may see how
great must have been the prescience, or the power, of
Christ — that He could so time, or so order, the steps
both of the Apostles and of the householder in the
distant City as that he and they should come together
just at the right instant, and at the very spot at which,
unknown to them, their paths would intersect each other.
330 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
We may also see why, having resolved to give a sign
rather than a plain direction, He chose this sign rather
than another. It was not by accident, by chance, or
because He wanted to shew how wise and foreseeing
He was. His choice was guided by the custom of the
hour, by what He knew the goodman would be likely
to be doing when his messengers reached the City.
In saying this, however, in shewing how natural and
reasonable it was that He should choose this sign rather
than any other, we in no measure detract from the
prescience of Christ. It would puzzle even a mathe-
matician to calculate how many chances there were
against such a forecast as this falling true. According
to Josephus, the population of Jerusalem at Passover-
time was to be counted by the million. There are not,
I suppose, so many people in London who habitually
go to church on Sunday morning as there were in
Jerusalem nineteen centuries ago who punctiliously
observed all the customs of the Passover ordained by
Jewish law and tradition. But if, on some fine Sunday
morning, you were sent to London from a distance
which would take you an hour to cover, with no more
definite direction than this: "When you have entered
into the city there will meet you a man on his way to
Church, with a prayer-book, or a hymn-book, in his
hand ; follow him, and he shall shew you where you are
to go," should you be very sanguine of finding your way
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 331
to the right place, of lighting on the right man at the
first cast ?
Surely, then, Peter and John in after-days, when their
Master was no longer with them and the future looked
all dark and threatening, as they reflected on this ex-
perience of Christ's presence with the absent, of his
power to forecast, if not to shape, the future, — surely
they must have drawn from it a strong argument for
trust and hope, and have said within themselves, " He
knows what is coming to pass, though we do not.
He is with us, though we do not see Him. He is
guiding our steps, though now, as then, we have to
walk by faith and not by sight." And surely we, if we
believe in Christ as the Lord and Ruler of our lives as
well as the Saviour of our souls ; if we believe that the
Father has committed all "judgment" — /.^., all authority
and rule — to the Son, may draw from this incident a
similar argument for hope and trust. We may infer
that even when He seems to be absent and distant from
us, and though we are in fear or in doubt about what
the morrow may bring forth, He sees and foresees all
which is hidden from us ; and that, unconfused and
unembarrassed by the myriad chances and mischances
of life, He is guiding us in all our ways, if only we arc
busy on his errands and are striving to do his will.
Indeed the more we reflect on this incident, the more
we shall find in it to meet our wants and banish our
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
fears. For it teaches us that, even when He seems most
unlike Himself, our Lord is most truly Himself, and is
leading us to our desired haven, though by ways we
know not, and which do not seem likely to lead us
there. It teaches us that his prescience extends to
the minutest details, as well as to the main lines and
critical occasions of life ; that absolutely nothing which
really concerns us is overlooked or forgotten by Him,
no, not even the pitcher, or the cup, of cold water
which we need to slake our thirst, or are carrying to
a neighbour who needs it even more than we do. It
teaches us that if we love Him, and are bent on
serving Him, He will save us from those innocent,
because unconscious and unintentional, transgressions
of his good will for us which must inevitably inflict their
proper punishment upon us, however guiltless we may
be — ^just as He saved Peter and John from innocently
betraying a secret to Judas which he would have turned
to evil account. It teaches us that even when we are
already traitors to Him in our hearts, when we are
meditating some sin which will cast us from his grace,
He will do all He can, short of forcing our will, to save
us from our sin ; that He will place hindrances and
impediments in our way as He did in the way of
Iscariot, and will not abandon us to our evil heart until,
against all the remonstrances and pleadings and warn-
ings of his love, we overleap all hindrance, and plunge
into what we know to be a path of death.
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 333
Time will not permit me to dwell on these lessons, to
draw them out and apply them to the various conditions,
experiences, and wants of men. And what need is there
to dwell upon them when no sooner do we hear them
than they commend themselves to us as lessons which
meet the very infirmities and fears by which wc arc
beset and disturbed ? Every man who has set out on
the spiritual life at once recognizes their value, and
appreciates the comfort they freely yield.
But there is one lesson, not quite so near the surface,
though even this can hardly have escaped you, on which,
since it meets a very common want, I must at least
ask you to redect for yourselves. For, finally, this inci-
dent suggests why much that we crave to know is hidden
from us. How often in the conduct of our h'fe, in its
greatest as well as in its smaller choices and decisions,
do we look back on them, and say, " O, if I had but
known!" or look forward to them and sigh, "O, if I
could but know 1 " We have to determine, we have
even to act, before we can see, or foresee, what many of
the consequences of our determination, or our action,
will be. And, afterwards, when the results of what we
have done fill our hearts with grief and apprehension,
we say, " I would not have done that if I had known to
what it would lead. Why did I not know > Why was
I not forewarned ? "
And the answer to this question often is : It is better
334 THE MAN WITH A PITCHER.
that you should not have foreseen ; better that you
should have been left to act on principle than on a
calculation of consequences ; bettec that you should
walk by faith, and not by sight : better even that you
should be allowed to fall into errors and mistakes, and
have to eat their bitter fruit, and so be taught the
seriousness and responsibility of life and trained for
freedom of choice and action, than that every step
should be precisely marked out for you and all its
results be clearly revealed. For it is thus that God
emancipates us from the leading-strings of infancy, and
trains us into men, and strong men, in Christ Jesus.
But, sometimes, the answer is : You are called to
walk as in darkness, trusting in a higher Wisdom than
your own, because that Wisdom is so much higher than
your own that as yet you cannot be trusted with its
secrets without injury or peril, because the very know-
ledge you crave would be a temptation to you and a
danger. When Christ gave a secret sign to the two
chief Apostles, the Ten may have asked why they were
not permitted to know the secret confided to the Two ;
the Two may have asked why Jesus did not tell them
what they were to do clearly, why He sent them out on
a perplexing and dubious adventure instead of telling
them plainly where they were to go : while no doubt
the traitor, Judas, thought himself hardly used because
what he so much wanted to know was carefully con-
THE MAN WITH A PITCHER. 335
ccalcd from him. Yet, as \vc can sec, it was in mercy
and love that Jesus so far departed from his usual
course as to invest a perfectly natural and simple
errand in a cloud of mystery which baffled all pre-
vision ; we can see that He was bent on holding Judas
back from a conscious and wilful crime, and on saving
the Eleven from unconsciously betraying Him into the
hands of his enemies and theirs.
Shall we not believe, then, that the knowledge which
we sometimes crave, but which He withholds from us,
is withheld for our good — that we may be taught to
walk, and practised in walking, by faith in Him, by the
light of those great and clear conceptions of duty which
He has implanted in our hearts ; and that we may be
spared temptations which it would be hard for us to
meet, and saved from sins into which we might, con-
sciously, or unconsciously, fall?
Let us put our trust in Him ; for so long as He sits
on the throne of life all is, and must be, well with us.
XXIV.
THE COMING DAWN.
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY.
" Watchman, what of the night ? Watchman, what of the
night ? The watchman saith. The morning cometh, and also the
night." — Isaiah xxi. ii, 12.
" The night is far spent, and the day is at hand." — Romans
xiii. 12.
The Hebrew Prophet, oppressed with many forebodings,
stands, in spirit, on his lofty watch-tower at Jerusalem,
and looks and listens round the whole horizon, to catch
any movement, any omen of change, that he may learn
what it is which is coming on the sons of men. Already,
while gazing stedfastly to the north, he has seen the
Persian host plunging into the darkness which enshrouds
Babylon, and, after a long interval of keen suspense,
issuing from it with jubilant cries of victory ; and he
knows that the doom of the great Babylonian tyranny
has come (Verses i-io). But, now, a voice, quick and
urgent with anxiety, strikes upon him from the south.
On the sentinel rock, which stands in front of the Red
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 337
Range of Edom, he dimly descries a watcher h'ke him-
self, a representative of the Edomites — those wild brave
sons of Esau who, living by the sword, had been " eaten
by the sword " for many long years ; but who, under all
the oppressions of defeat and vassalage, have cherished
an indomitable love of freedom. It is impersonated
Edom which asks of Isaiah, " Watchman, what of the
night ?" z.^., " What hour of the night is it, and what
does it look like ? " but asks in the tone of one tossing
on his bed, worn out with pain and weary with longing
for the day ; so that his question really means, "Is the
night well-nigh gone? Will it soon pass? Is there
any sign of dawn ? " But the Prophet has no clear
vision of the Edomite future. All he can see is that, if
a dawn of freedom and hope is rising on them, it will
soon be swallowed up in darkness. And hence he
replies, with all the brevity, but with all the ambiguity, of
an oracle, " The morning comcth, but the night cometh
also." Yet, because he would not cut off even the most
implacable enemies of Israel from hope, he adds, " If ye
will inquire, inquire ; return, come again." Beyond the
night there may be another dawn of hope. Let them
not altogether lose heart, then, but come and inquire
again, when he may have a clearer vision and a more
welcome answer to give them.
The Christian Apostle, bent on employing every
argument for holiness and charity to which he can lay
21
338 THE COMING DA WN.
his pen, sums up his exhortation to the disciples at
Rome with an appeal to that second advent of Christ
which both he and they believed to be close at hand.
He tries to rouse them to a more stedfast and earnest
struggle against all the fatal but alluring forms" of vice
which haunt the darkness, by reminding them that the
night of the world is nearly over, that the dawn of that
great day is near on which all the works of darkness
shall be reproved. And, because "the night is far spent,
and the day is at hand," he urges them to put off the
garments of night, to renounce all its dark deeds, and to
array themselves in the armour of light, to take a valiant
part in the long conflict in which evil is to be overcome
of good.
This, I take it, is what these two passages meant for
those to whom they were originally addressed ; and I
have brought them together because even now, if we
should ask the question, "Watchman, what of the night .^
Is it well-nigh gone .-* " we can only answer it truly as
we adopt and blend the answers both of the Apostle
and of the Prophet If we can say, " The night is far
spent, and the day is at hand," we must also say, " The
morning cometh, but the night cometh also."
I am by no means the first, however, who has brought
these two passages together, and woven them into one.
That great musician, that great artist and poet who
worked in tones instead of in words or colours, Mendel-
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 339
ssohn, has given admirable expression to them both in
his Hymn of Praise. Many of you must remember the
keen and pathetic appeal of the ascending strain in
which the tenor soloist demands, " Watchman, will the
night soon pass ? " The demand is repeated thrice, in
the same sequence of notes, though, on each repetition, it
is raised a whole tone in the scale, to denote the growing
urgency of the speaker. And you will also remember,
after the Voice has twice sung in reply, "The Watchman
only said. Though the morning will come, the night will
come also," with what a loud glad outburst of praise the
full chorus breaks in with the final reply, " The night is
departing, the day is approaching ; therefore let us cast
off the works of darkness, and let us gird on the armour
of light." That has long seemed to me one of the finest
and most dramatic movements in the whole realm of
music. And, moreover, it has this special value for us,
that it is an admirable commentary on my text, partly
because it blends both the Prophetic and the Apostolic
answers into one, and partly because it indicates where
the true emphasis falls, and which is really the final
answer of the two.
To-day is both Christmas Sunday and the last
Sunday of the year.» As the year closes, it is natural
that we should ask, " Watchman, what of the night ? Is
it well-nigh gone, and is the day at hand ? " And, but
' December 26, 1886.
340 THE COMING DA WN.
for the fact which Christmas commemorates, we should
have no reply to that question save one : " Though the
morning cometh, the night cometh also." It is only the
advent of Christ, and the prophecy latent in that Advent,
which enable us to add, and to add in the full assurance
of faith : " The night is far spent, and the day, the day
which has no night, is at hand."
I. That you may see that both these answers to the
question which the World and the Church have so
long been asking are true, and in what sense they are
true, let us consider how far St. Paul's answer to it
has been fulfilled ; whether the day which he foresaw
did not really come, but also whether this day was
not followed by a night and the promise of its dawn
overcast. When he stood on his watch-tower and sur-
veyed the horizon, he had much reason to believe that
the night of heathenism was far spent ; that the day
of the Lord, the day on which Christ would take to
Himself his great power and rule in all the earth, was
close at hand. Paul himself had carried the light which
is the life of men to nearly all the great centres of human
thought and activity — to Antioch, to Athens and Corinth,
to Ephesus and Colossae, Philippi and Thessalonica, and
indeed to most of the great cities round the Mediter-
ranean Sea ; while other disciples had carried it to Rome,
to Egypt, and throughout the crowded East. And
everywhere the light was welcomed. It was rapidly
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 341
spreading everywhere. How, then, could he doubt that
tlic darkness was passing away, that the dawn, already
kindling on the high places of the earth, would sweep
down from the mountains into the valleys, regenerating
the whole world, and making it everywhere bring forth
the fruits of light in all goodness and righteousness and
truth ?
But as we look back on the period to which he looked
forward with such confident hope, we can see that the
end was not yet, although it seemed so near ; that,
though a morning came, a night came also. A new day
did dawn on the world ; but it was not that great day
of the Lord on which all things arc to be made new.
Light did shine into the darkness ; but the darkness was
not wholly and for ever dispersed. The kingdom of
Christ was set up on the earth ; but it did not cover the
earth. Knowledge grew from more to more ; but igno-
rance and superstition and vice were not extirpated.
Life was quickened in the very heart of death ; but
death was not abolished. Many who had been lost
were found, many who had been bound were set free ;
but the rcu'c was not saved and enfranchised into the
love and service of righteousness. The Apostolic day,
or age, was hardly over before the night came rushing
back ; and in a few centuries the dogmas and supersti-
tions, the vices and crimes, of heathenism were to be
found in the very Church itself, where, alas, too many of
342 THE COMING DA WN.
them still linger. If the Apostle's forecast was in some
sense true, and a day, though not the day, of Christ
was at hand, so too was the Prophet's, " Though the
morning cometh, the night cometh also ;" and for long
centuries the very Light that was in the world was
turned to darkness, or so blended with darkness that
the old heathen selfishness, and sensuality, and tyranny,
eclipsed the meekness, the purity, the charity, of Christ
Jesus.
Yet even in "the dark ages "there was a remnant
who had light in their dwellings, and did not altogether
lose hope. And when the day of the Reformation
dawned on Europe, Luther and his compeers had little
doubt that the true day of the Lord had come at last,
that a light had arisen which would speedily renew the
face of the earth. And a day liad come, but not the
great day of Christ. The end was not even yet. Over
its larger spaces, even Europe still lies in darkness, the
darkness of superstition, or sensuality, or indifference ;
while in Africa, Asia with its teeming millions, and
South America, we can discern only distant and
twinkling points of light which are all but lost in the
surrounding darkness.
So that when we in our turn ask, " Watchman, what
of the night ? Is it almost gone ? Will it soon pass ? "
we too can often hear none but the old reply, " If a
morning is coming, so also is a night." We try to hope,
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 343
but the verdict of History is against us. Many before
us have hoped that the day of Christ, the golden age of
righteousness and peace, was at hand, and their hope
made them ashamed. How can we look for a happiness
denied to them ? Analogy is against us. How long it
took to make the world ! how slowly was it built up,
inch by inch, before it was ready for the foot of man !
And how intolerably slow is man's growth and develop-
ment ! Despite all our boasts of modern progress, was
Goethe or Carlyle, is any living philosopher or poet, a
much wiser man than Plato ? Would Professor Huxley
place himself above Aristotle ? Is Edison more inven-
tive than Archimedes ? Might you not reasonably
hesitate before pronouncing the Archbishop of Canter-
bury a better man than Socrates, or Mr. Spurgeon than
Epictetus .? And do you not gravely doubt whether
even the holiest saint of modern times is to be com-
pared with the simple and unlearned men and women
who, nineteen centuries ago, ate their food with glad
simplicity of heart and, in life and in death, were for
ever praising the God who had revealed Himself to
them in the face of Jesus the Christ ?
Reason and experience are against us. Think what
the world is like, — how nation makes war on nation, and
class on class, how common and unblushing vice is
even among those who should be best fortified against
it by education and position, how much of our virtue is
344 THE COMING DA WN.
but a prudent and calculating selfishness ! Think how
hard we ourselves know it to be to wean even one heart
from selfishness and self-indulgence, and to fix it in the
love and pursuit of whatsoever is true and fair, good and
kind ; how slowly we advance in godliness even when
we have the grace of God to help us and are working
together with Him ! Remember that, before the Re-
generation can come, before the day and kingdom of
Christ can be established in all the world, every heart
has to be redeemed from evil and imperfection, has to
be made just, pure, charitable, and compassionate, that
all classes and all races have to be taught to live
together in love and amity. And then tell me whether
you can honestly say, " The night is far spent, and the
day is at hand ; " whether you must not rather say,
" The dawn may be coming, but as surely as the day
comes, the night will come also ; many days, and many
nights, must still pass, many alternations of light and
darkness must sweep across the face of the earth, before
the great day of the Lord can arise and shine upon us."
2. If that be your conclusion — and I have shewn you
how much support it has in history, in analogy, and in
the reasoning which is based on experience — I have
good tidings for you ; or^^ rather, the Season itself has
" glad tidings of great joy " for us all. For, though I
cannot deny that many mornings must be followed by
many nights before the day of universal righteousness
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 345
and peace will break on the world, and the horologe of
Time will ring in
the hnppy age,
When truth and love shall dwell below
Among the works and ways of men,
yet the very meaning and message of Advent is, that all
these mornings and evenings are gradually leading in
the day of the Lord ; that He is preparing for the
coming of his kingdom in the darkness as well as in the
light, by every night through which we pass as well as
every day, by every disappointment and every postpone-
ment of hope as well as by every fulfilment. "The
night is departing," the darkness abating ; "the day is
approaching," the light spreading and growing. He
who came in great humility will come again in glory
and in power. Many forms of wrong, cruelty, and vice
are impossible now which were possible, and even
common, before the Son of God and Son of Man
dwelt among us ; nay, even before the Reformation
carried through Europe a light by which such deeds
of darkness were reproved. The individual man may
stand little higher, whether in wisdom or in goodness,
than of old ; but the number of men capable of high
thoughts, noble aims, and lives devoted to the service of
truth and righteousness, is incomparably larger. The
world took long to make, and may take still longer to
re-make ; but its re-creation in the image of God is just
346 THE COMING DA WN.
as certain as its creation. The darkness of ignorance
and superstition may still lie heavily over the larger'
spaces of the world ; but the points of light are rapidly
increasing. The dawn is visibly trembling up the sky ;
and the great day, still so far off to us, is nigh at hand,
is as though it were already come, to the Inhabitant of
Eternity, who faints not neither is weary, whose word
cannot be broken, whose gifts and promises can never
be recalled.
Fear not, then, though there be much within you to
quicken fear, and so much around you to confirm that
fear. It is your Father's good pleasure to give you the
kingdom. He who came to seek the lost will not desist
from the search " until he find them." He who came to
save the world %vill save it. He who has taught us to
pray, " Thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as
it is done in heaven," will see to it that his kingdom
does come, that his will shall be so done on earth as to
change and lift earth into heaven. He who took on
Him the nature of man will redeem that nature from
every trace of its bondage to evil. He who made the
whole world better by dwelling in it for a few years, will
make it perfect by dwelling in it for ever. He who died
for all will win and rule over all, drawing all men unto
Himself by the cords of a love stronger than death. As
we count time, the end is not yet ; but as God counts
time, the end is not far off.
A CHRISTMAS HOMILY. 347
If, then, in the h'ght of this great hope, of this great
fact, of which the Advent of Christ is our guarantee,
we once more raise and reply to the question, " Watch-
man, what of the night? Is it well-nigh gone? Will
it soon pass ? " though our first answer must be, " Many-
mornings arc coming, to be followed by many nights ; "
yet, remembering that God is in the darkness as well
as in the light, and that in Him there is no darkness
at all, our final reply must be, " Every morning, and
every night, brings the great day nearer; and hence the
night is departing, the day is at hand."
XXV.
THE BENEDICTION.
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR.
"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you aU." — 2 Thes-
SALONIANS iii. 1 8.
Can we begin the year with better words, or words of
better omen, than these ? As the year opens we salute
each other with good wishes. Can we frame a better
wish than this for each other ? In the young every new
year unseals a new fountain of hope and happy expecta-
tion ; and even in the oldest of us, and most wayworn,
there is some faint stirring of hope : if we can do no
more, we trust that somehow, in some sense, this may
prove a happier year than the last, that it may bring us
less pain, less loss, less disappointment, or a clearer view
of duty, a loftier ideal, power to live more nearly as we
think and pray. And, young or old, if we take our life
thoughtfully and in a Christian spirit, we feel our need
of a higher wisdom, a more pure and enduring energy,
to guide our steps, to mould our character, to shape our
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR, 349
lot for us ; wc lift up our eyes to Heaven, and ask a
benediction on all our days, and on all our ways, a grace
which will make us equal to any fortune that may come
upon us, and teach us how to pluck, from seeming evil,
a real and abiding good.
" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you." —
Do not these words meet your sense of need, your
craving for good, your hope of a benediction which will
make the new year a happy new year to you all ? To
St. Paul they conveyed and implied so much, they were
so bright with hope, that they became his standing good
wish for those whom he loved. In some form we find
them at the close of nearly all the Letters he wrote ;
now reading, " The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be
with you," and now, " The grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ be with your spirit," and now, as in my text,
" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all."
And to the Church they convey and imply so much that,
in all her branches, they form the benediction, or part
of the benediction, with which every public service
concludes.
But constant repetition may have dulled their force
and clearness. They may mean little or nothing for
you because you have so often heard them ; or they
may have none but a technical or theological meaning
because you have seldom heard them except from the
pulpit. You may never have thought of them, never
350 THE BENEDICTION.
have asked what the words meant originally and still
mean, what the grace of Christ was and is, and in what
senses that grace may be with you, and be the crown
and benediction of your whole life. And, therefore, I
must point out that the phrase, " the grace of Christ,"
would convey at least three ideas ^ to the members of
the Early Church, and should convey the same ideas
to us ; and that if the grace of Christ is to " be with
you," or to be " with your spirit," you must in all these
senses reproduce it and make it your own.
I. The first thought which this phrase would suggest
to St. Paul's readers, especially to his Grecian readers —
and most of his converts were Greeks — would be the
gracefulness, the charm, of Christ. They would under-
stand the Apostle to refer to that exquisite sensibility
to beauty, the beauty of Nature and of Man, by which
Christ was distinguished, that love of all that is fair and
pure and good which gave^'a beauty, a winning charm,
an attractiveness, to his person, his character, his manner
and bearing, and to his words, which no heart not wholly
dead to beauty and goodness was able to resist. Both
the Puritan conception and the Monastic, or ascetic,
conception of Christ have gone far to hide this thought
from us — so far that I have heard grave and reverend
men argue from such texts as " His face was more
marred than that of any man " that they do greatly err
' See Cremer's Lexicon, Art. Xapif.
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 351
who attribute any comeliness to the Man of Sorrows.
And most of you, I suppose, have heard all beauty de-
nounced as a snare, and have been warned to suspect
whatever charms the senses or wins the heart. And yet,
the moment we reflect upon it, this conception of Christ,
as without form or comeliness, is wholly incredible. If
the story of the miraculous conception be not a mere
myth, what could the Child of a pure Virgin and of the
Holy Ghost, the Spirit of all goodness and beauty, be
but the most pure, beautiful, and attractive of men ?
Nay, even if it be a mere myth, who can believe that
the one Perfect Man was destitute of any outward and
visible sign of his inward perfection ? A lovely spirit
does, indeed, transfigure even the plainest features and
lend them a charm beyond that of a simply formal
beauty ; but a lovely spirit in a lovely form is a still
more potent force. And hence the great painters who
have invested the face and figure of our Lord with all
the perfections of manly beauty, and who have added
a pathetic charm to that beauty by depicting the perfect
face as worn and wasted with thought, with compassion,
with all the toil and burden of his great work of love,
have reason on their side, and give us, we may be sure,
a far truer conception of Him than either the Puritan
or the I^Ionk.
For the whole story of his life shews both that He
was exquisitely sensitive to beauty in every form, and
352 THE BENEDICTION.
that He had the still rarer power of reproducing that
beauty in his words and ways. The whole world of
Nature lives again in his discourses and parables, to
prove how keen He was to note the loveliness of the
world around Him ; while these same parables and dis-
courses are so perfect, both in substance and in expres-
sion, as to prove that He could reproduce this beauty
in still more exquisite and enduring forms. And what
a keen eye for beauty of character, for a latent unsus-
pected goodness, must He have possessed who saw in
doubting Nathanael an Israelite indeed, in fickle and
impetuous Simon a stedfast Rock, in the gentle loving
John a son of thunder, in timid and halting Nicodemus,
and even in the wanton of Samaria, fitting recipients for
the deepest truths of his kingdom, in Mary's waste of
ointment an insight which transcended that of the very
Apostles, and in the self-humiliation of the woman who
was a sinner a love capable of transforming her into a
saint ! He who spoke the most beautiful words that
have fallen from human lips ; He who clothed perfect
thoughts in forms so perfect that the noblest spirits of
every subsequent age have held them to be " sweeter
than honey " and more precious than " much fine gold,"
and yet in forms so simple that the common people have
always heard them gladly ; He who was at home with
all classes, learned and ignorant, rich and poor, powerful
or enslaved, who saw good even in the worst, and found
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 353
something to love, to pity, to admire even in the for-
lorncst outcast ; He to whom little children ran for a
caress, round whom wronged women and outcast men
gathered as a friend, — was there no beauty, no charm,
in Him ? was there not rather a charm which no open
and susceptible heart could withstand ?
This beauty, this charm, this gracefulness, is to be
with us, is to be ours, if " the grace of Christ " is to be
with us. That is to say, the wish, the benediction, of
my text summons us to cultivate the love of all that is
fair, ail that is good — all that is fair in nature, all that
is good in men ; and to reproduce it, so far as we may,
in our words, in our manner, in our lives. We are 7iot
to suspect beauty, but to love and admire, to delight
ourseKcs in it. We are, not only to admire goodness,
and especially graceful forms of goodness, but to imitate
and appropriate them. We are not to be content with
being sourly or austerely good, but to aim at being
winningly and attractively good.
The beautiful mind, the beautiful manner, of Christ,
the charm of his character, his speech, his dealings and
intercourse with his fellows, be with you all .■•—this is
what our good wish for the new year means. And
because it is the grace, or gracefulness, of Christ which
is invoked on you, you run no risk — as Stopford Brooke
has pointed out — should the wish be fulfilled, from two
dangers to which the mere lover of beauty is exposed,
24
354 THE BENEDICTION.
and into which the aesthetes of to-day seem only too apt
to fall. For the devotee of beauty lies open to the
danger both of shrinking from and detesting that which
is ugly, or vulgar, or common-place, and of putting
beauty before justice and charity and truth, i.e.^ of
neglecting the moral virtues when they would impede,
or when he thinks they would impede, his enjoyment
of that which is lovely and attractive. For beautiful
as He was, and much as He loved beauty, the Lord
Jesus did not shrink from the vulgar and the rude, but,
by his love and courtesy, raised them above themselves.
He did not turn away from that which was repulsive,
but touched the leper, laid his healing hand on the sight-
less eyeballs of the blind, hushed the wild fury of the
possessed, sought and found his chief friends among
unlettered peasants and fishermen, shewed Himself the
Friend of publicans and sinners. As there is no figure
so graceful, gentle, and attractive as his in the whole
story of man, so also there is none which administers
a severer rebuke to the effeminate self-indulgence of
those who, in their quest of beauty, turn away from the
hard and sorrowful realities of life, and cherish a dainty
scorn for all who do not share their self-pleasing, self-
stultifying, dream.
Nor did our Lord Jesus Christ cultivate gracefulness
at the expense of truth or justice. The ethical was more
to Him than the beautiful. Courteous as He was,
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 355
winning in manner, meek and gentle in spirit and in
speech, He hated evil in every form, and, above all,
the evil which deemed itself good and put on airs of
piety. lie could rebuke, in words that still burn with
indignation, the rich who robbed the poor, the strong
who oppressed the feeble, the Levites who turned the
Temple into a den of thieves, and the House for all
nations into a private estate, the Pharisees who hid their
greed, their unmercifulness, their immorality, under a
veil of broad phylacteries and long prayers uttered at
the corners of the streets, and those blind leaders of the
blind who made void the commandments of God with
their fond traditions.
The grace of Christ, then, be with you all— the grace
which, while it lends a daily beauty to the daily life, does
not shrink from contact with the harsh and ugly facts of
life, but seeks to ameliorate them ; the grace which, so
far from pursuing beauty at the cost of morality, finds
the purest and highest loveliness in duty, in justice, in
usefulness, in a faithful and earnest response to all ethical
claims.
2. But graceful manners soon break down under the
strain of change, familiarity, and time, unless they spring
from and express a gracious heart. And hence I must
remind you of the second meaning latent in my text.
For if "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ " would sug-
gest gracefulness to a Greek, to a Jew it would suggest
356 THE BENEDICTION.
gmcious7icss,2i\v\\\'\r\g,{r\cnd\Y,gcr\\a.\ spirit ; not righteous-
ness simply, but a genial righteousness ; not beneficence
simply, but a friendly beneficence.
There are men who are weighted all their lives by an
unwilling, a reluctant, an unsympathetic temperament.
They do not easily consent to what is proposed to them ;
their first impulse is to say No rather than Yes. Not
courtesy alone is difficult to them, but thoughtfulness for
others, consideration for their wishes, a lenient judgment
of their faults, a kindly interest in that which interests
them. Their instinct is to differ rather than to concur,
to wrangle rather than to assent, to criticize and condemn
rather than to work with their neighbours and yield to
their influence. And hence, strive as they will — and few
but themselves know how hard and bitter the strife some-
times is — they lack the friendly tone, the genial manner,
which commands confidence and love, and even when
they do do good are apt to do it awkwardly and in a way
which hurts or offends even those whom they help. They
do not give themselves with their gifts.
But you find no trace of this stiff, reluctant, self-con-
tained temper in Jesus Christ. Little though He had to
give as the world counts gifts, the world has never seen
a benefactor to be compared with Him. Not only did
He give Himself for us all, but He gave lUiiiself \\\\\\ all
his gifts, gave all He had, or all they could take, to every
man or woman who approached Him. There was no
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 337
olTcncc which lie was not ready to forgive, even to the
sin of Iscariot, would Judas but liave sought for<;ivcness.
There was nothing He could do which He was not pre-
pared to do for any who asked his help. So gracious was
He, so stedfastly did his will stand at the yielding or
giving point, that virtue went out of Him without any
conscious exercise of will, whenever the hand of faith or
need was laid upon Him. And how interested He was
in all who spake with Him, however ignorant or faulty
they might be I how deeply He looked into their hearts ;
how He drew them on, and drew them out, till they had
told Him their inmost secret, till they had relieved their
bosoms of the perilous stuff hidden there: and then how
wisely and delicately He adapted his words and gifts to
their needs ; as when, for example, He talked with the
woman of Samaria by the Well ! How ready He was to
love and admire them, or any trace of good in them, till
they rose " to match the promise in his ej-cs ; " as, for
instance, in the faith of the Syrophenician woman ! How
much good He saw in them which the world could not
see, and of which thcj' themselves had lost sight ; as, for
example, in Zaccheus, that true son of Abraham whom
the Pharisees mistook for a child of the devil, and in the
Woman who bathed his feet with her tears and wiped
them with the hairs of her head ! How quick He was to
detect any moment of weakness in those who had a little
f.iith in Him but hold it with a feeble grasp, and how
358 THE BENEDICTION.
prompt to strengthen them against any sudden pressure
of unbelief ; as, for example, when He said to the falter-
ing Ruler of the synagogue, " Only believe ; all things are
possible to him that believeth " !
liut time would fail me — I should have to go through
the whole story of his life — even to allude to the innu-
merable proofs of his graciousness, of his willing and
friendly heart ; the graciousness which enabled Him to
give so much, though of outward good He had so little
to give, and which made his every gift a charm, an ele-
vating and abiding power, to those who received it, or
who listened to the gracious words which proceeded out
of his mouth. And yet, with all this graciousness, there
was no softness, no weakness, no insincerity, such as we
often find associated with a kindly temperament : there
was nothing inconsiderate, or indiscriminate, in his bound-
less charity ; no yielding at a single point at which it
would have been wrong to yield ; no want of faithfulness,
or even of severity where severity was needed. He was
as sincere as He was sympathetic, rare as that combina-
tion is. He who said to Simon, " Thou art the Rock,"
could also say to him, " Get thee behind me, Satan." He
who said to a sinful woman, " Neither do I condemn
thee," said also, " From henceforth sin no more." And
He who cured a sinful man of the paralysis induced by
vice, also warned him, " Sin no more, lest a worse thing"
— worse even than that living death of eight and thirty
years ! — " come upon thee."
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 359
3. Now when the benediction is pronounced, " The
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all," and you
understand it to mean, "May you partake both the grace-
fulness, and the graciousness, of Jesus Christ," some of
you may be tempted to say : " That is past praying for.
By nature and temperament we are hard, cross-grained,
unsympathetic, disposed to differ rather than to agree, to
contend for our own rights rather than to yield to the
claims or cravings of others. How, then, can we be
friendly, courteous, suave, in heart and bearing? "
And the true answer to that question does not lie in
assuming that those who speak thus of themselves do
not know themselves, and are not so bad as they make
themselves out ; but in pointing out to them how, and
with what large measure of success, other men have
struggled with a temperament as difficult as their own,
and even more difficult ; how in the whole course and set
of Providence, in all the rebuffs and rebukes which dis-
courtesy and ungraciousness inevitably provoke, God is
meeting them with a discipline adapted to their faults
and intended to wean them from their faults ; and, above
all, in shewing them what a strange and wonderful help
there is for them in the grace of Christ,
For, finally, " the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ "
means the favour of Christ ; and his favour, not simply
as a passive goodwill, or as the pleasure He takes in
every phase of our conflict with evil and our successful
36o THE BENEDICTION.
pursuit of that which is good, but as an active redeeming
and renewing energy. It means the grace as of a true
and great King of men, who forgives freely, bestows
royally, and whose bounty, since it is prompted by a
larger nature than theirs, is always in excess of the merit
of his servants and friends. In the New Testament, as
every student of the New Testament must know, the
grace of Christ is constantly used in this high sense, used
far more commonly in this sense than in any other.
Oftenest of all it is employed to denote a loving and
divine energy, or quality, which not only forgives, but
also cleanses us from, our iniquity ; which not only
pardons, but redeems us from, our faults and sins : an
energy which attends us through our whole career to
guard us against temptation or make us strong enough
to resist temptation ; as able to change, elevate, and
purify our whole character and disposition, and to recreate
us in its own likeness.
And who dare say that, with this giving and forgiving
energy, this redeeming and renewing grace, ever at work
upon him, he cannot become pure, friendly, and gracious
in heart, and, therefore, simple, courteous, and even grace-
ful in manner and in speech ? Who dare despair of
himself, or give up self-culture as hopeless, if the strong
Son of God is ever waiting to come to his help, ever
seeking to bestow his gracefulness, his graciousncss, to
exert his forgiving and redeeming power upon us, to re-
A HOMILY FOR THE NEW YEAR. 361
cast our nature, our character, our temperament, on the
larger fairer h'nes of his own ?
" The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you
all ; " the grace which redeems, renews, recreates the
inward man of the heart, and so clothes even the out-
ward man of behaviour with a new and friendlier charm.
Amen.
XXVI.
THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY.
"Thinkest thou that I cannot ask my Father, and he shall
instantly send me more than twelve legions of angels ?" — Matthew
xxvi. 53.
In the sacrament of the Lord's Supper we commemorate
the death of the Son of Man. That death was a sacri-
fice. The sacrifice was voluntary. It is, indeed, of the
essence of all sacrifice that the human will which, by an
abuse of its freedom, has wandered from the Divine Will,
should freely return and close with that Will. Sacrifice
is for atonement : and how should the will of man be
made one with the will of God save as it confesses the
sin of disobedience to that Will, and pledges itself to
obey it ?
But if all true sacrifice be self-sacrifice, the sacrifice of
selfwill to the will of God, because that Will is seen to be
better than ours, then we may say both that the life of
Christ was a perpetual sacrifice, and that this sacrifice
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 363
culminated in his death. For, throughout his life, He
pleased not Himself, but God, doing not his own will,
but the will of the Father who sent Him ; while, in his
death, He gave the last consummate proof of a will not
to be shaken from its rest in God by any terror, by any
pang. The sin of the world consisted in its violation of
the great law of all spiritual life — obedience to the highest,
purest, kindest Will we know : and hence the sin of the
world could only be taken away by a sacrifice in which
that Will was freely obeyed at the cost of all that men
hold dear ; a Sacrifice moreover which should ultimately
bend the will of the world to an obedience as free and as
perfect as its own.
I. But if all true sacrifice be self-sacrifice, if its virtue
consists in the sacrifice of that will in us which moves us
to depart from the will of God, we need not be surprised
to find so much stress laid on the perfect freedom, the
perfect voluntariness, of the sacrifice of Christ. Had it
not been voluntary, it would have been no true sacrifice:
for what virtue is there is an ///voluntary, a compelled,
obedience? It is only a willing obedience which can
atone for disobedience. Only a willing obedience, more-
over, could have so touched us as to reproduce itself in
us, and set our wills in tune with Heaven. The First-
born among many brethren must be seen to do his
Father's will freely, cheerfully, gladly, if the younger
members of the family arc to catch from his example a
364 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
noble infection of obedience. Let him obey grudgingly,
reluctantly, on compulsion and not from love, and as
there will be no virtue in his own obedience, so also
there will be no healthy and noble contagion in his
example ; it will tell on the household for evil, and not
for good.
Few words should be more welcome to us, therefore,
than the words in which He who is not ashamed to call
us brethren affirmed the entire freedom of his obedience
unto death. There is, indeed, a strange power, a won-
derful suggestiveness, in such words as these: "Therefore
doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life
that I may take it again. No man taketJi it from me,
but I lay it doivti of myself I have pozver to lay it daivn,
and I have poiver to take it again'^ Calm and simple
as the words are, what a tone of authority breathes
through them ! how they set us on asking, " Who then
is He who thus quietly assumes to be lord over his own
life, lord over even death itself .-'" And when this same
thought clothes itself in the splendid image of my text,
we are still more deeply impressed by it. For a Roman
legion, with its contingent of cavalry, consisted of some
six or seven thousand men. And with twelve legions of
men even, i.e.^ with some seventy or eighty thousand dis-
ciplined soldiers, where might not Jesus have gone, what
might He not have achieved ? What power was there
in Jerusalem, or in Judea, that could have resisted Him
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 365
even for a moment ? While with twelve legions of
angels, what was there in Rome itself that could have
inflicted a momentary check upon Him? Had the
mere conquest, or the mere possession, of the world
have been among his aims, He did not need that the
Prince of this world should bestow its kingdoms upon
Him. He could have won them for Himself He had
but to lift up his voice, and legions of the celestial
warriors, who "excel in strength," would have hearkened
to his commandment and delighted to do his word.
2. When we hear the Sctfi of Man utter such words as
these, and utter them in the very moment in which He
was betrayed into the hands of men, and stood, or ap-
peared to stand, a helpless victim, in their power, what-
ever we may think of his claim, we can hardly doubt
that He does claim a more .than mortal stature. Such
words would be intolerable on any lips but his. Were
any other man, however lofty his stature, however splen-
did his gifts, to claim this lordship over life, and death,
and the very angels of God, even though it were a
Shakespeare, a Ca;sar, or a Socrates, we should conclude
that the terrors of death had turned his brain, and that
he was no longer responsible for the words which fell
from his lips. There is a quiet consciousness of power in
them, and of a divine authority over the forces of Nature
and of that which is above Nature, which sounds sane
enough on /iis\ ips however, and which we do not feel to
366 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
be out of keeping with the character of the Speaker ;
while yet, if we accept them as the utterance of a sane
mind, and as consistent with all we know of the
Speaker, absolutely no claim has ever been made by
Christ, or for Him, which we can logically resist.
3. But if there be this singular consciousness of Divine
power and authority in these words, all the more
singular because it is so calm and restrained, we may
also find in them an equally remarkable, and a pathetic,
consciousness of human brotherhood. If Christ here
claims a power which He does not deign to use. He
shews a power, the power of love, which touches us far
more deeply. Even when He gives play to his imagi-
nation for an instant, and conceives of Himself as
summoning the heavenly host to his aid, though He
does not mean to summoa them, it is not of Himself
alone that He thinks. So close and dear are his
disciples to his heart, so truly has He become one with
them, or made them one with Him, that they are
present, and occupy an equal place with Himself, in
the momentary fancy that passes through his mind.
There are but eleven of them now that the traitor has
gone out from them, because he was not of them. With
Christ Himself there are but twelve. And as — to shew
them that his sacrifice is purely voluntary — He tells
them that He could instantly call the heavenly host to
his aid, were that his will, and so save Himself from
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 367
those who sought his life, — even in that passing concep-
tion of an event which is not to be, lie cannot dissociate
Himself from them. If He were to call the angelic
legions, He must call ''twelve legions of angels," one for
each of thevi as well as one for Himself. He cannot so
much as conceive of Himself as seeking a security from
which they will be shut out. They must have their
share in every blessing which comes to Him, even
though it be an imaginary one. He will not suffer their
very sins and failures to detach them from Him. They
had just slept through his vigil and agony in the Garden,
although He had besought and commanded them to
watch with Him. Nevertheless they are his ; and if the
angels should come, they must come for them as well as
for Him. They are about, as He had forewarned them,
to forsake Him and flee every man to his own. Never-
theless, He cannot forsake them even in thought : to
think for Himself is, by a divine necessity, to think also
for them.
Are ive in his mind, too, and always in his mind,
because we are in his heart .^ Let us not doubt it ; for
has He not promised to be with us always and to the
end of the world ? And if we a?-e always in his mind
and heart, so one with Him that for Him to think of
Himself is to think of us, and to care for Himself is to
care for us ; if even our failures in loyalty and service
cannot alienate Him from us, why should we fret and be
368 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
careful whether for the life that now is or for that which
is to come ?
4. Once more : we can hardly ponder these words
without being reminded that the Cross is more potent
than the sword, and love than legions of angels. Had
Christ called the heavenly hosts to his banner, He would
have conquered the world ; but, in conquering. He might
have lost the world : whereas, by being obedient unto
death. He has both saved and gained the world. He
took the better way. His weakness has touched and
overcome those whom mere force would have crushed or
repelled. By his cross He has " drawn " those whom
his sword could have but compelled or slain. The
legions might hav^e made Him Master of the world ;
they could hardly have made Him its Saviour and
Friend. That pathetic Figure hanging, for us men, on
the accursed tree, is far more potent over the wills of
men than could have been that of a splendid Warrior,
riding forth to smite down his foes.
5. Nor, in weighing the force and significance of these
words, must we omit to note that though, as I have said,
they would have been unbecoming on any lips but his,
since they imply a more than mortal power, it was
nevertheless part of his mission to put them into our
lips, and to make them appropriate on our lips by
making us partakers of his Divine nature and glory.
In so far as we are one with Him, tvc may feel, we
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 369
ought to feel, that the very angels will come at our call ;
nay, that, without being called, they do minister unto
every heir of salvation, all the forces of Heaven and
earth working together for our good. It is not pre-
sumption, but faith in Him and in the Father whom He
came to reveal, which 'bids us be sure that in every
critical moment of our lives, and above all in every hour
and power of darkness, if we are tempted and assailed
by forces with which we are unable to cope in our own
strength, we are also sustained by the still mightier
forces which do his pleasure ; and that nothing can
really harm us so long as we are followers of that which
is good.
As yet, indeed, we may not have full, and conscious,
control of these Divine forces ; we cannot hope, we can
hardly wish, to have it until we are w^'ser and walk
before God with a more perfect heart. Christ could be
trusted with it because, his will being immovably one
with the will of the Father, it was impossible for Him
to abuse it, impossible that He should turn it, or seek to
turn it, to any selfish or unworthy end. But could zve
be trusted with it } Could we trust ourselves with it }
If all power in heaven and in earth were offered us,
should we not shrink from it in the very proportion in
which we know ourselves, and know therefore the amazing
difficulty of using even what power we have aright ?
Before we can have the full and conscious power of
25
370 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
Christ, before we can wish to have it, we must get the
perfect will of Christ ; our wills, like his, must become
one with that of our Father in heaven. God's ways
must become our ways, his thoughts our thoughts. We
must be animated, we must be dominated, by the love
which moved our Saviour to offer Himself up for us all
that He might bring us back unto God.
6. And one means, and a chief means, of inducing
this divine temper of the soul is that thoughtful and
tender contemplation of the Sacrifice of Christ to which
we are invited so often as we come to the table of the
Lord. Th'at Sacrifice takes its due and proper effect
upon us only as it reproduces itself more and more fully
within us. The Sacrament which symbolizes and sets
it forth is a sacrament to us only as it pledges us to an
obedience like his, an obedience unto death, only as it
leads us to a more sincere and stedfast adoption of the
will of God. In this Sacrament we do not profess to
repeat the Sacrifice which was offered once for all. We
do not attempt, whether by our prayers or by priestly
incantations, to change the bread and wine into the very
body and blood of Christ : for we do not believe that by
any merely physical process or transformation our spirits
can be made pure and good.
And yet, do we not often come to this Sacrament as
if the mere observance of it would do us good, apart
from any exercise of intelligence and will ? Rejecting
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 371
all theories of Sacramental grace and Sacerdotal autho-
rity, do we not in some measure act as if we held them
to be true? And, on the otlicr hand, do wc not some-
times absent ourselves from this holy Ordinance because
we shrink from that effort of will, thought, and devotion,
which can alone give it value ; forgetting that without
some such effort, constantly repeated, no man can work
out his own salvation or rise into that free obedience to
the large pure will of God which it is the chief end of
religion to secure?
7, Even if we come hoping so to meditate on the
Sacrifice of Christ as that it may raise us into a more
obedient and devotional mood, are we not apt, in our
meditations and prayers, to drift into a vague stream
of thought and desire which fails to leave any definite
trace on our souls, or to carry an added fruitfulness into
our lives? Are we not apt to slip into indefinite lines
of thought which what we call our "doctrines" have
made familiar to us, and to ask ourselves whether we
believe this or that, and so to carry away with us nothing
more than a confirmed attachment to articles of belief
which have but a slender relation to our daily conduct,
and outside of which there lies a whole world of truth
which we have never explored ? Do we not at least
know both those to whom the ordinances of public
worship, so helpful when rightly observed, bring little
but this lukewarm stream of vague emotion, which can
372 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
never brace them to clear thought or strenuous activity ;
and those who, as they observe these ordinances, are for
ever fingering their " doctrines," going the round of their
definite but narrow creed, to the neglect of practice, till
they resemble the unskilled musician who is for ever
screwing up this string or that, but is never at leisure
to play you a tune ?
8. Clearly, then, if this ordinance of The Supper is to
do us any real and lasting good, it must so bring the
obedience, the self-sacrifice, of Christ before us as to
raise the level of our obedience, and to induce in us a
more loving and self-denying temper of the soul. But
let us remember that, even if we set this true aim clearly
before us, there is still a danger of our being too vague
and unpractical in our endeavour to reach it. We may
still wait for some mystical, or half-mystical, touch upon
our spirits, which may or may not come ; or still lose
ourselves in a meditation so general and diffuse as that
it will have no immediate and elevating effect on conduct
and life. There is no moment in which we should be
more resolutely practical than when we commemorate
the dying of the Lord Jesus. For what is the great and
sacred reality which this Sacrament sets before us ? It
is an obedience to the will of God stronger than death.
And what should be the effect of our contemplation
of this sacred reality but to lead us to similar acts of
obedience, to help and induce us to prefer the will of
A SACRAMENTAL HOMILY. 373
God to our own wills in the daily conduct of our life,
even though to accept and do that Will should cost us
much that we hold dear ?
9^" Let a man examine himself," says St. Paul, "and
so let him eat of this bread and drink of this cup," lest
God should both examine and chastise him. And if we
are to examine ourselves, ought we not to examine our-
selves in the light of the great informing idea of this
Sacrament, viz., an obedience rising into self-sacrifice ?
And if we examine ourselves in the light of that idea,
must we not put ourselves through some such catechism
as this ?
Am I reaching forth to an obedience like that of
Christ, an obedience to which the will of God is dearer
than life itself, or all that life offers ? In the several
provinces and details of my life, am I animated by a
love which refuses no sacrifice of self.-* In so far, for
instance, as I am a citizen and therefore a politician, do
I seek the good of others as well as my own good, the
welfare of the country at large rather than my own
advantage or the advantage of my own class .? Do I
take my full share of public work and public burdens,
or do I push off such work and burdens on my neigh-
bours if I get a chance, and expect them to do what
I do not care to do myself? If not, how am / shewing
the love and self-sacrifice of Him who loved all men,
and gave Himself up both to and for them all? In the
374 THE SELF-SACRIFICE OF CHRIST.
conduct of my business, do I seek to promote my neigh-"
hours' interests as well as my own, the interests of my
workpeople and my customers or the interests of those
whom I serve, and scorn to take advantage of any ijian's
poverty, or ignorance, or absence, or helplessness ? If
not, how am / fulfilling the law of Christ ? In the
Home — that smaller church, — and in the Church — that
larger home, — am I trying to teach as well as to learn,
to do good as well as to get good, to shew kindness as
well as to receive kindness, to serve as well as to be
served ? If not, how dvvelleth the love of Christ in me ?
how am I breathing the spirit of Him who came not to
be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life
a ransom for the many ?
It is as we examine ourselves thus, my brethren ; it
is as, in the light of that divine Sacrifice, we look into
our daily lives, and confess the failures and imperfections
of our obedience, and ask for the love which can alone
conquer our natural selfishness, and brace ourselves to
serve our fellows, and bear their burdens, and help their
infirmities, that the spirit of our Master will enter into
our spirits, and, sitting at his table, we shall cat a
veritable bread from heaven, and drink the very wine
of the Kingdom.
XXVII.
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD.
" I'rove all things ; hold fast that which is good."— i TiiKS-
S.VLONIANS V. 21.
The scn.sc in which this fine precept is commonly taken
is not that in which it was originally intended. St. Paul
was writing to men into whose dry and barren hearts
a quickening spiritual influence had been poured, which
called forth latent powers of life, enriching them with
many fruits, and clothing the arid soil with many flowers;
but which also called into poisonous activity many seeds
of evil, so that tares sprang up with the wheat and weeds
among the flowers. When they came together in Church
every one of them "had a psalm, or a doctrine, or a
revelation, or a tongue, or an interpretation," and was
bent on exhibiting the strange power, or gift, of which
he was conscious. And they were prompted to the use
of these extraordinary gifts by motives as various,
motives in which good and ill were as strangely blended,
as the motives by which tec arc prompted to the exercise
of our more common and ordinary endowments. They
376 CLE A VE TO THA T WHICH IS GOOD.
were not all — perhaps no one of them was always — moved
by a simple desire to edify the brethren and glorify
God. They were moved at times, as we are too often
moved, by emulation, by vanity, by envy, and the love
of strife. There was much that was evil, as well as much
that was good, in the display of their spiritual gifts, and
a growing danger to the purity and the peace of the
Church. Hence St. Paul, while he counselled them not
to quench these motions of the Spirit, and not to despise
the " prophesyings," also commanded them to "prove
all things," i.e., to try the spirits, to put their communica-
tions to the test ; to hold fast to all that they felt to be
good in them, but to abstain from and abhor whatever
was evil.
Beyond a doubt, this is the original sense of St. Paul's
words. He was dealing with " the gifts of the Spirit,"
with the prophetic and supra-natural energies of the
infant Church ; he was exhorting his friends at Thes-
salonica to discriminate between spirit and spirit, to
follow after whatever was good in the great spiritual
movement of their age, and to hold aloof from whatever
was evil and injurious in it.
But, taken in its original sense, his exhortation was
only for the time being. To render it universal, to make
it applicable to all times, we must generalize it; we must
get at the principle which informed and prompted it.
And, obviously, this principle is, — That in every age,
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD. 377
whatever its characteristic spiritual movement and ten-
dency may be, wc arc to keep an open, and yet a stcd-
fast, mind : we are to h'sten to all that is said around
us, if at least there be any likelihood and good sense in
it, to weigh it fairly, and not to despise aught that is
good in it because the good in it has an intermixture
of evil, but to disentangle the one from the other, that
we may hold fast that which is good and fling the evil
away.
A Divine Spirit works in and through every age, and
through the Church of every age, to a foreseen end of
good : but this Spirit must reveal itself through human
organs, must speak through human voices, or how shall
it reach human minds and hearts ? Yet the human
voice cannot adequately utter the Divine thought ; no
human organ can fully reveal and express the Divine
Spirit. Men, even though " filled with the Spirit," are
still but men ; and, while revealing the Spirit, must also
reveal themselves — reveal even that which is faulty and
imperfect in themselves. If He icw'// use men, therefore,
the Perfect Spirit must submit to imperfection ; the
absolute and eternal Spirit must come under the limita-
tions of time and sense: his manifestation of Himself
must be bounded and tinged by the medium through
which it passes to us. And, therefore, we should exptrl
to find imperfection mingling with perfection in every
revelation of the Spirit, and evil blending with good
378 CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD.
in every human exercise of spiritual power. It is our
duty, as it was that of the Thcssalonians, to detach the
evil from the good, that we may cleave to that which
is good, and shake from it the evil which of necessity
accompanies and clings to it.
Now as we consider this conception of Christian duty,
if we must admit it to be a very just and noble concep-
tion, we cannot but also confess that it is so lofty and
difficult that we can hardly hope to come up to it. And
never was it more difficult than in the present age. For
the domain of human knowledge has grown at once so
wide and so full that even men of culture and leisure
cannot master more than a mere corner of it ; while yet
from every corner and every point of this wide domain
there come voices which solicit or demand our attention ;
many of these voices, moreover, contradicting each other,
although they all speak in the most absolute and authori-
tative tones. Human life, too, has grown so rapid and
so complex, we are exposed to so many, to such various,
and even contrary, influences, our most familiar concep-
tions of life and duty are in so many cases proving to
be, like Isaiah's bed and blanket, too short for a man to
stretch himself upon and too narrow for a man to wrap
himself in, that even those who are most set on living
by the law of God often feel themselves quite unable
to prove all things, and to hold fast that which is good
in them all.
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD. 379
We admit the nobility of the Apostle's ideal ; we feel
that to keep our minds open to all spiritual influences,
while yet our perception of truth is so keen and our alle-
giance to it so strict that we instinctively reject that in
them which is not good, would be to reach the topmost
round of duty, and to dwell in an enduring and unassail-
able blessedness. " But," we ask, " who is sufficient for
these things? We have neither leisure nor ability to
entertain all the great questions that are raised and dis-
cussed around us. Nothing is safe from the critical and
questioning spirit of the age. The very rudiments of
faith and duty, the very foundations of the house in which
we would fain abide in tranquility and peace, are being
turned up and examined, — accepted by some, rejected by
others. Even the master-builders are hardly agreed about
a single stone. Arc we to stand roofless, or to wander
in mere occasional and provisional tents, till their inter-
minable disputes draw to an end? Are we, simple and
busy men, who have no leisure and no mind for such dis-
cussions, to take up these disputes, to test all that the
wise and learned both affirm and contradict, and to decide
for ourselves problems on which they have reached no
decision ? And if not, how are we to obey St. Paul's
precept, and put all things to the proof, that we may hold
fast that which is good ?"
That is a fair question to ask, a sensible and practical
question ; and therefore I will try to answer it. I will
38o CLEA VE TO THA T WHICH IS GOOD.
try to shew you how men of only fair natural capacity,
and without much training or leisure, may so cultivate
their judgment and so order their lives as to find them-
selves on the side of Truth and Goodness even in this
critical and sceptical age.
And, first, let me say that a certain degree of mental
and spiritual culture is open to every man whose heart is
set upon it. The men who have done most even in the
realm of Thought have not been those whose conditions
were most happy and auspicious — Darwin, for instance,
taught himself nearly all he knew, and had all his life to
snatch a few hours for work from a great waste of pain
and weakness ; but those who have had to encounter
impediments and vexations of the most crippling kind.
It is in the conflict with difficulties that the mind grows
most surely and most rapidly, just as the noblest trees
of the forest are those which have had to breast the
storm. If you talk with any man who has attained in-
tellectual power and distinction, nay, if you talk with any
cultivated and fine-natured man, you will find that his
main regret is fiot that his oppotiiinities have been so few
and scanty, but that he has not made a better use of the
opportunities he has had. More and more, as we grow
older, we are all constrained to confess that it is not so
much our want of means and opportunities which is
responsible for any lack of knowledge, or wisdom, or
goodness, of which we arc conscious, as it is our neglect,
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD. i%\
or our negligent use, of the means and opportunities
afforded us. " The fault is in us, not in our stars, if we
are underh'ngs." Socrates was wise, and Solomon was
wise ; but any man who can read, and can get admission
to a decent library, has an easier access to sound learn-
ing than either Solomon or Socrates enjoyed. " The
slow sad hours which bring us all things ill " are also
" the slow sweet hours which bring us all things good ;"
and among the good things brought us by the lapse of
time is this — that the means of knowledge and of mental
culture are at our very door, insomuch that, in so far as
the means and aids to knowledge are concerned, even the
poorest of us is far better off than the choicest sages of
antiquity. If you could have shut up Plato or Epictetus
to a Bible and a Shakespeare merely, would they have
complained, think you, that they had not the means of
learning all that it most behoves a man to know } and
which of you may not have a library in which at least
these two books shall be found ?
But what I want chiefly to point out to you is, that it
is not mere erudition, mere book-learning, which gives a
man culture, or makes him truly wise : it is, rather, the
inward bent which leads him to take delight in just,
vigorous, and beautiful thinking. And, in like manner,
it is not a mere knowledge of duty, however wide or
exact, which makes a man good, but the inward bent
which makes him delight in just, vigorous, and beautiful
382 CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD.
conduct. Many a man has been wise, and wise with the
wisdom which enabled him to put every subject that
engaged his thoughts to the proof, and to seize upon all
that was good in it, who has read but few books, because
he had but ^e\v to read. And you may be wise with this
wisdom, even though you have not leisure to read much.
Of course, if you are set on wisdom, you luill read good
books if you can ; but if you can not, be very sure of this,
that you can do, and do well, without them. It is not
reading, but thought, and contemplation, and living in
harmony with his best thoughts, which really cultivate a
man and make him truly wise. A habit of observation
and of meditation on the facts of Nature and of human
life — a habit of reflection, I say, is worth more than many
books, worth more than all.
But you may plead : " I have no leisure even for
thought, and very little capacity for it." I reply : Even
leisure is not indispensable to thought, nor are those who
have the least to do at all conspicuous whether for the
power or the justness of their thinking. What is to pre-
vent you from reflecting on the men whom you meet in
the course of your day's work, on their likenesses and
differences, on the ways in which their characters are
growing or hardening, on the laws by which their lives
are governed, and on the issues to which they run.
Above all, what is to prevent you, if you bend yourself
that way, from reflecting on yourself^ and on the strange
CLEA VE TO THA T WHICH IS GOOD. 383
problems involved in your very being and life. God is
with you every day, and the law of God ; and if you look,
you will see how both his law and his grace enter into •
and shape your life, and will learn many a precious lesson
for your guidance and instruction. Leisure ! Learning!
Some of the most thoughtful and wisest men I have
known, men whose judgment on any large moral ques-
tion, and even on any deep spiritual problem, I would
rather have had than that of any learned scholar or meta-
physician, have been among the busiest of men, the least
educated in the common sense of that term, and, let me
add, the poorest in this world's goods.
But the less leisure you have for study or reflection,
and the less capacity for it, the more earnestly would I
urge you to lay to heart a simple but most precious
secret, to the truth and value of which I believe every
thoughtful and experienced man will bear witness : via.^
that true practical wisdom does not consist in the extent
of knowledge a man possesses, nor in his power of re-
producing it, but in the habitual preference of higher
thoughts over lower thoughts, of noble ami generous thoughts
over poor and selfish thoughts. I am bold to say that if any
of you will make ///wthe rule of your life, you will infallibly
become wise, whatever your station may be, and however
poor and limited your opportunities : for it is this habit
of cleaving to that xchich is good which is the best result of
the highest culture, and the very substance of all wisdom.
384 CLE A VE TO THA T WHICH IS GOOD.
What do you yourselves mean by a wise man if
not a man who thinks largely, boldly, nobly, and who
is thus raised above all that is petty and sordid and
mean ? In ancient times a philosopher, or lover of
wisdom, was one whose mind was so set on the larger
and loftier ends of life that loss and gain, and all the
ordinary sources of grief and pleasure, were as nothing
to him ; his kingdom was within him, beyond the reach
of outward accidents and alarms. He was " lord of him-
self, though not of lands, and, having nothing, yet had
all." And of all men the Christian should be a philo-
sopher in this sense ; i.e.^ he should be a man who thinks
largely, boldly, generously ; a man whose thoughts
" wander through eternity " and raise him above the
changes and allurements of time ; a man who sees and
grasps the large and high spiritual ends of life so
strongly that its outward events cannot shake him from
his rest in them ; a man whose kingdom is within him,
not without, whose wealth lies in what he is, not in what
he has ; a man who is equal to all things because Christ
sits at the very centre of his being, at the very source
and fountain of his life.
Now if you do, or should, make it your rule to dis-
criminate the good there is in all things and to hold fast
to it, consider in how many ways it will affect and raise
the whole tone of your life. As you pass through the
\vorld you often meet with men who are nothing if they
CLEAVE TO THAT WHICH IS GOOD. 385
are not critical. Submit any scheme to them, and, as by
instinct, they pass by all that is ice 7s. 6d.
BY KliV. SAMUEL COX, D.D.
"The friiilfiilness of Dr. Cox's ministry is, like that of a pood
orchard, perennial. Every year brings its harvest. And the fruit
is always sound, of good flavour, and full of wholesome nutri-
ment. . . . We trust that he may find so many proofs of the desire
of his ever-increasing audience for such teaching and help as he
can give, that he may be encouraged, year by year, to r.hake the
boughs of his ministry over England, and make us all happier and
wiser by its fruits." — Sundny School Chronicle.
" The exposition is transparently clear, such as can be given only
by one who thoronglily understands his subject. The language is
simple, direct, and every sentence carries you forward. The labour
of many divines, when expounding a passage, reminds one of an
engine trying to go up an incline with a train on a frosty morning ;
the wheels go round at a great rate, but there is no progress made.
With Dr. Cox, however, the wheels always * bite,' and the reader
feels that he is being carried on smoothly, yet rapidly, to his
journey's end." — Aberdeen Journal.
" Here too we have the clear exegetical insight, the lucid exposi-
tory style, the chastened but elTective eloquence, the high ethical
standpoint, which secured for the earlier series a wellnigh unanimous
award of commendation. No less prominent is their generous
comprehensive catholicity. We regard it as a merit of the highest
order, both on religious and other grounds, that these sermons
might have been delivered from the pulpit of any cluuch that
deserved the name of Christian." — Academy.
" This volume will take rank with the noblest utterances of the
day ; not merely because they (the expositions) are eloquent — we
have eloquence enough and to spare ; not because they are learned
— learning is often labour and sorrow : but because they will give
fresh heart and hope, new light and faith, to many for whom the
world is ' dark with griefs and gra\es.' " — Nonconformist.
" Dr. Cox's handling of Scripture is reverent, thoughtful, careful ;
always that of one who believes that if we ' read, mark, learn, and
inwardly digcvt ' what is there on the sacred pages, we shall not
fail to derive true and abundant nutriment for the soul. . . . Quite
equal to anything that has hitherto come from the same source in
beauty of diction and felicity of illustration." — Guardian.
«* Readers of this volume, as of all Dr. Cox's books, will feel the
freshness and force and freedom of thought which characterize it.
Holding fast by great evangelical principles, he yet expresses them
in unconventional \vays"~Br///s/i (Jucu/c'r/y.
"The volume ought to be a perfect treasure-house for any
preacher who knows how to use its stores wisely. Its chief value,
however, is not for men who look to books to think for them, but
rather for those who seek in them that which will help them to
think." — Co7ti;rei^aiio)inlist.
"Written in a beautifully transparent style, and characterized by
sound Biblical learning, a commendable breadth of view, a deep
yet sober piety, and a remarkable delicacy of critical touch." —
Scotsman.
"Characterized by critical discrimination, moral earnestness,
and freshness of Biblical thought. Exceedingly fresh and stimu-
lating." — Glasgoiv Herald.
" While always suggestive and mentally stimulating in their
treatment of sacred subjects, they are not wanting in practical and
direct dealing with the conscience. No minister who wishes to
interest his people in the study of Scripture, and to make them
acquainted with its deeper meanings should be without these
expositions." — Christian World.
" They are marked by a freshness and vigour of treatment, and
a depth of insight into the meaning of Holy Scripture, which
render them very interesting as well as very profitable reading." —
John Bull.
"The author throws light on many a difficult and obscure
passage of Scripture, and illumines many familiar texts with
felicitous comments and illustration." — Inquirer.
" Decidedly interesting sermons : when you have read one, you
want to read another." — Church of England Pulpit.
" Every page exhibits ripe scholarship and manly and vigorous
fidelity to truth." — Christian Commonwealth.
" Dr. Cox's clearness, accuracy, freshness of illustration, and the
other c|ualities which make him so attractive an exegete, need no
commendation from us." — Methodist Recorder.
" There is much that is fresh, and, we need scarcely say, much
that is solid." — Ecclesiastical Gazette.
London: T. FISHER UNWIN, 26, Paternoster Square, E,C.
EXPOSITIONS
VOLUME I. THIRD TII()USy\N'n. riicc js. U.
BY REV. SAMUEL COX, D.D.
"This volume consists of thirty-three expositions whicli combine
In a remarkable degree critical grasp and popular attractiveness.
It is a book that is rich in thought and good counsel, and pregnant
witli aids for Cliristian teachers of all the churches." — British
Quart criy.
" We welcome, and ho|JC the public will welcome, this valuable
volume of expository lectures or discourses." — Spectator.
" We Iiope that this volume may meet with such success as will
determine the author to fulfil his half-promise of following it up."
— Academy.
"There is a gracefulness and ingenuity in Dr. Cox's essays upon
Sftcred themes and texts which make them always pleasant and
often profitable reading." — Guardian.
"These 'expositions' discuss with much breadth of view and
ability a variety of interesting matters, some of the most notorious
difiicultics of Scriptural interpretation meeting with a treatment
which is always honest and sometimes remarkably successful." —
Pall Mall Gazette.
"The spirit is so admirable, and the tone so noble ; there is such
keen insight and such practical shrewdness ; so close a union of
intellectual and moral genius, that the book carries inspiration with
it." — Nonconformist.
" Their style is as graceful, attractive, and faultless as their
thought is unconventional and tiieir feeling pure. They are a
valuable possession for students of the Divine Word." — Freeman.
"Evangelical, though not Calvinistic, orthodox, without narrow-
ness." — Scotsman,
" These discourses are fresh, striking, original, and suggestive."
— Conifrci^ationalist.
" Dr. Cox has a good deal of nervous eloquence in his style ; he
holds us by his conscious sincerity ; and where we differ from him
we can but respect him for the courage of his convictions." —
Evan-'tl/cal J/aiia::ine.
" Dr. Cox, as an exposilor of Holy Scripture, has few equals.
His perceptions of truth are so transparent, his impressions are so
vivid, his fidehly to conviction is so manly, and his diction so
natural, brijjht, and clear, that to read his papers is a rare luxury,
and once lead they are not willingly forgotten." — Methodist New
Connexion Magazine.
"He combines, as few men do, the various qualities which go to
make a good Interpreter. He unites critical learning, insight into
the relation of the word uttered long ago to our own time, patient
seeking after the truth ; and a lucidity so great as to argue want of
intelligence in the reader who cannot understand him." — United
Methodist Mciffasine.
" Dr. Cox is an expositor of subtle insight and rare literary skill."
— British and Foreign Evangelical Review.
" There is a manliness, and a plainness of speech, about these
sermons which is very refreshing." — Chinch oj England Pulpit.
"All, whether they approve of his teaching or not, will find in
his sermons independent thought, vigorous expression, and, what
is better still, much heart-searching truth." — Leeds Merctiry.
" The author of these thoughtful and truly refreshing pages
endeavours to lead his readers into the spacious heritage of theo-
logical freedom on which this generation has joyfully entered." —
Christian World.
" A volume which cannot be safely overlooked by any student
of Scriptuie who wishes to kee[) abreast of the UmG."— Christian
Leader.
" It will meet with a warm welcome, and allay many doubts." —
Literary World.
"Clear, careful, candid, and sympathetic studies of the Scrip-
tures." — Literary World, Boston, U.S.A.
" Dr. Cox discourses with great vigour and clearness, presenting
many old truths in a new light, and energetically grappling with
what he deems erroneous views of Scripture." — Federal Australian.
"Dr. Cox is a strong man ; he looks a question square in the
face, and grapples with it hand to hand." — Sydney Morning Herald.
London : T. FISHER UNWIN, 26, Paternoster Square, E.G.
Mr. Unwin has pleasure in sending
herewith his Catalogue of Sele6l Books.
Book Buyers are requested to order
any Books they may require from their
local Bookseller*
Catalogue of Select Books in Belles L,ettres^
History^ Biography^ Theology^ Travel^
General Literature^ and Books for
Children.
Q^effee Ee^^ree
UDhorion * S'"'^'*^^ of the Antique and the Mcdiaival
1 * in the Renaissance. By Vernon Lee.
E-
Cheap Edition in one volume. Demy 8vo., cloth,
7s. 6d.
" It is tin; fruit, as every page testifies, of singularly wide reading and indepen-
dent thought, and the style combines with much picturesqueness a certain largeness
of volume, that reminds us more of our earlier writers than those of our own time."
Contemporary Review.
Studies of the Eighteenth Century in
Italy. By Vernon Lee. Demy 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d.
" These studies show a wide range of knowledge of the subject, precise investi-
gation, abundant power of illustration, and hearty enthusiasm. . . . The style
of writing is cultivated, neatly adjusted, and markedly clever. " — Saturday Review.
Rplca.ro • ^<^'"g Essays on Sundry iEsthctical Questions. By
Vernon Lee, Author of " Euphorion," "Baldwin,"
&c. Crown Svo., cloth, 5s.
" Ihis way of conveying ideas is very fascinating, and has an efTect of creating
activity in the reader's mind which no other mode can equal. From first to last
there is a continuous and delightful stimulation of thought." — Academy.
TllVPnilia • "^ Second Scries of Essays on Sundry ./£sthctical
J ' Questions. By Vernon Lee. Two vols. Small
crown 8vo., cloth, 12s.
"To discuss it properly would require more si)ace than a single number of ' The
.Academy ' could afford." — Academy.
" list agr(;'ablc :'i lire ct fait pcnscr."— A'«r« des deux .\fotides.
11301100 iLettres.
Raldwin * Dialogues on views and Aspirations By Vernon
Lee. Demy 8vo., cloth, 12s.
• The dialogues are written with . . . ;in intellectual courage which shrinks
I'roni no logical conclusion.'' — Scotsman.
Arradv * For Better, For Worse. By Augustus J essopp, D.D.,
/ * Author of "One Generation of a Norfolk House."
Portrait. Popular edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d.
"A volume which is, to our minds, one of the most delightful ever published in
English.'' — Sped tor.
" .\ capital book, abounding in true wisdom and humour. . . E.xccllent and
amusing." — Melbouriic A>giis.
T'he PlePf * ^^^ River, Prison, and Marriages. By John
AsHTON, Author of" Social Life in the Reign
of Queen Anne," &c. With 70 Drawings by the Author
from Original Pictures. Demy Svo., cloth elegant, 21s.
Romances of Chivalry : l""^^. ^"^, ^""«^^»;<^d in
/ f' J",'-',"^ ^:"".^'^',;^"il!°^ "f " Jl'
Buchholz Family. Translated by
K. VVright. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d.
•They are pervaded by a quiet yet moving charm which depends, not on fine
writinp, but on inie perception of character, simple hut firm and clear delineation,
and honest natural fecliiicr. "— .SVi'Awc/^/.
Pilgrim Sorrow. S>' ^'^^\'' %"-'' f^\' ^^•'"" °^
D Jloumania). Translated by Helen
Zimmern. Portrait-etching by Lalauze. Square crown
8vo., cloth extra, 5s.
" .\ strain of sadness runs through the delicate thought and fancy of the Queen
of Roumania. Her popularity as an anthor is already great in Germany, and this
little work will win her a place in many English hearts. "- -Standard.
A Crystal Age. Crown 8vo., cioth, 4s. 6d.
" The creation ot a clever and poetical fancy. . . . We have read it with growing
pleasure. ' — Saturday Keview.
" It is individual in Tirtue of its fine and delicate feeling for natural beauty."
St. James's Gasette.
The Poison Tree : ^ '^^^'^^' "i^J^^Life in Bengal.
By B. Chandra Chatterjee. In-
troduction by Edwin Arnold, M.A., C.S.I.
" This is a work of real genius. . . . .As a picture of the social life of the Hindus
cannot but be regarded as masterly."— /?r///M Qnartrrly Ra-ievo.
iBtWt^ ilettrcs.
The Touchstone of Peril : a Tak ot the Indian
Mutiny. By Dudley
Hardress Thomas. Second edition. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s,
" The volumes abound both in brilliant descriptive passages and in clever
character sketches. A novelist of very remarkable powers." — Dciily News.
" ' The Touchstone of Peril ' is the best Anglo-Indian novel that has appeared for
some years." — Times of India.
More than He Barp;ained for: ^ YT
O Novel. By
J. R. Hutchinson. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.
Tarantella • ^ Romance. By Mathilde Blind, Author
of " Life of George Eliot." Second edition.
Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.
" Told with great spirit and effect, and shows very considerable power."
Pall Mall Gazette.
The Amazon: ^/'\^T^; ?>' Carl vosmaer
Preface by Prot. George Lbebs, and
Frontispiece specially drawn by L. Alma Tadema, R.A.
" It is a work full of deep, suggestive thought." — The Academy.
npUp T^pmnlp • Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations.
X llL. X Cllipic , g^ j^^_ George Herbert. New and
fourth edition, with Introductory Essay by J. Herny
Shorthouse. Small crown, sheep, 5s.
J facsimile reprint of the Original Edition c/'l633.
"This charming reprint has a fresh value added to it by the Introductory Essay
of the Author of 'John Inglesant.' " — Academy.
An Italian Garden: a Book of Songs. ByA.MARv
F. Robinson. Fcap., 8vo., parch-
ment, 3s. 6d.
"They are most of them exquisite in form." — Pall Mall Gazette.
" Full of elegance and even tenderness." — Spectator.
" Their grace cannot escape notice." — Contemporary Review.
" A little book of beauties." — Athencciun.
" A book of flower-fragrant verse.
Dreamy, delightful, tender, terse —
Most admirably done !
There's light and colour in each scene,
There's music of the mandoline,
And bright Italian sun !" — Punch.
The Lazy Minstrel. l^^-f^^^^l'-T^.^^'f'''f
J • <« Boudoir Ballads. Frontis-
piece. Fcap. 8vo., cloth, printed on hand-made paper, 6s.
" One of the lightest and brightest writers of vers de soci(ft^."
St. James's Gaxette.
15elles ilettrc0.
'^rUo C*:»r^^«t-l/-i.. . A Drama. Bv Augusta Webster,
1 ne sentence . ^^^,^^^ ^,j. . ,,; ^^ ,)^y .. ^^^ s^,„
crown Svo., cUjth, 4s. 6d.
Til p Mew Purer;! tor V and other Poems. By Elizabeth
ine iMew rurgatory, j^^^^^^ chapman, Author of
"A Comtist Lover," &c. Square imperial i6mo., cloth,
4s. 6d.
Disillusion, ""d other Po=ms ByET„.,,E nnFoK.LANQ^H.
' Square 8vo., cloth, 4s. od.
Introductory Studies in Greek Art.
Delivered in the British Museum by Jane E. Harrison.
With Illustrations. Square imperial i6mo., 7s. 6d.
" The best work of its kind in English."— O.r/orrf Magazine.
"The volume is in itself a work of dcci."— Contemporary Kevieiv.
Hrent Mind^ in Art With a Chapter on Art and
\jrreai: IVlinaS in ^ri. ^^^53^5 By William
TiREBucK. With many Portraits, and Frontispiece. Crown
8vo., cloth, 5s.
C(?M/<7//j.—Gu3taveDore— Albert Durer— Raphael— ■Rembrandt— Velazquez
—Richard Wilson— Sir Edward Landseer— Sir David Wilkie.
^ietov^*
T
he Making of The Great West,
1512-1853. By Samuel Adams Drake. One hundred
and forty-five Illustrations. Large crown 8vo. 9s.
(After discussing in detail the Original Explorations of
the Spaniards, the French and the English, he traces the
development of America as a nation by conquest, annex-
ation, and by exploration.)
The Makinp; of New England, 15801643.
D D ' By Samuel
Adams Drake. Illustrated. Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s.
" It is clearly and pleasantly written, and copiously illustrated."
Pj^I Mall Budget.
" It is very compact, clear and Te\inb\e."—Noncon/onntst.
The Making of the Irish Nation; And
the First-Fruits of Federation. By J. A. Partridge, Author
of " Democracy : Its Factors and Conditions." Demy Svo,,
cloth, 6s.
"The ' Making of the Irish Nation' is not only a very useful guidebook for
students, but it is an interesting volume of facts and inferences."
Sydney Morning Herald.
A Short History of the Netherlands
(Holland and Belgium). By Alexander Young. Seventy-
seven Illustrations. Demy Svo., cloth, 7s. 6d.
" It will be found a very valuable manual of the history of the Netherlands by all
young men who, for any reason, have to become students of it." — Spectator.
The Three Refoims of Parliament:
A History, 1 830-1 885, By William Heaton. Crown
8vo., cloth, 5s.
" Mr. Heaioii gives admirable summaries of the three great Reform Bills. . .
Such books as these are powerful educative forces." — British Quatterh Review.
"As readable as a novel, and as instmctive as an important chapter of history
can well be." — l.teds .Mercury.
IDistorp.
The Story of the Nations.
Crown 8vo., Illustrated, and furnished with Maps and
Indexes, each 5s.
L'interessante serie I'Hisloire des Nations fomiera . . . un cours d'hisioire
universelle d'linc tr^s grandc va\c\\T.—/ournal det Deddd.
The remarkable series. — New York Critic.
That useful series.— 7"A* Time':.
An admirable series. — Spectator.
That excellent series. — Guardian.
The series is likely to be found indispensable in every school library.
This valuable series. — Nonconformist. [Pall Afall Gaxctlc.
Adnurable series of historical monographs. — Echo.
An excellent series. — Times 0/ Morocco.
This admirable f.et\cs.—F.-'angtlical Review.
The excellent series. — Literary World.
The Story of the Nations series is excellent.— ZL/V^niry Churchman.
Rome ^-^ Arthur Gilman, M.A., Author of "A History
of the American People," &c. Third edition.
" The author succeeds admirably in reproducing the ' Grandeur that was
Rome."" — Sydney Morning Herald.
The Tews ; '" Ancient, Mediaeval, and Modern Times.
J * By Prof. J. K. Hosmer. Second edition.
" The book possesses much of the interest, the suggestiveness, and the charm of
romance." — Saturday Review.
r^ermnnv ^^ ^^^- ^- B.^rin-c-Gould, Author of "Curious
VJCiiiiaii^. Myths ofthc Middle Ages." &c. Second edition.
" Mr. Baring-Gould tells his stirring talc with knowledge and perspicuity. He
is a thorough master of his subject." — Globe.
"A decided success." — A thence urn.
Ca.rthaP'e ^^ ^roi. Alfred J. Church, Author of " Stories
o • from the Classics," &c. Second edition.
"Told with admirable \uc\<\'\\.y .—Obsener.
"A masterly outline with vigorous touches in detail here and there. "—Guardian.
Alexander's Empipe. f ,^^°^- J- /•. ,^f";"^'
r Author of "Social Life in
Greece." Second edition.
"An admirable epitome." — Melbourne Argus.
"A wonderful success." — Spectator.
The Moors in Spain. \^ ^^''^'''r.cc'^' ^°°"'
r Author of "Studies in a
Moscjuc." Second edition.
"Is much the best on the subject that we have in English."— .J Mfwarwrn.
"Well worth reading." — Times rf Morocco.
"The best, the fullest, the most accurate, and most readable hiitory of the Moort
in ?pain lor gcneial leaders."— iV. James's Gazttlt.
IJ)istorp.
K^Vnt ^^ ^'^°^' ^^°' Rawlinson, Author of "The Five
6j r * Great Monarchies of the World." Second edition.
" The story is told of the land, people and rulers, with vivid colouring and con-
Bunimate literary skill." — New York Critic.
HlinP"arV ■^^ ^^°^* •''^'^miniUs Vambery, Author of
o y * " Travels in Central Asia." Second edition.
"The volume which he has contributed to 'The Story of the Nations' will be
generally considered one of the most interesting and picturesque of that useful
i. cries." — Times.
" This eminently satisfactory book." — Si. James's Gazette.
Thf^ Qdraf^pnc ^""^"^ ^^^ Earliest Times to the Fall of
J. lie oaia«.,Cllb, g^g^^j By Arthur Oilman, M.A.,
Author of " Rome," &c.
'A comprehensive and spiritedly-written volume. . . . Written iii an enthusiastic
.■itinuilating style, which imparts a new and vivid interest to the story." — Scotsman.
"Le livre de M. Oilman est destin6 k ctre lu avidement par un grand nombre
(7//i' Telegraph.
" A marvellous and graphic narrative." — Pall Mall Gazette.
T-If^nr\7 Trvincr • in England and America, 1838-1884.. By
jncm^ living. Preoeric Daly. Vignette Portrait by
Ad. Lalauze. Second thousand. Crown 8vo., cloth extra,
5s. ■>
"A very interesting account of the career of the great actor."
British Quarterly Review.
"A succint biography, history, and commentary." — Daily Chronicle.
t^tofo^^ ^"^ (pjifoeoj?^^.
E
YnOQifinnc " ^V ^^- SAMUtL Cox. First Seriei.
A^UbiLlUUb. Third Thousand. Demy 8vo., cloth,
7s. 6d.
"We have said enough to show our high opinion of Dr. Cox's volume. It it
Indeed full of suggestion. . . . A valuable volume. " — The Spectator.
'' Expositions." \y '^^ %T "^"J*"" n ^^^T^ ^f ?*
1 • Second Thousand. Demy 8vo., cloth,
7$. 6d.
" Here loo we have the clear exegeiical insight, the lucid expository style, the
chastened but effective eloquence, the high ethical standpoint, which secured for the
earlier series a well-nigh unanimous award of commendation." — Academy.
" Expositions." ?y '^l ^^!"^ ^"^'^°^- ^^f^ ^"\«
1 * Second edition. Demv, ovo., cloth,
7s. 6d.
" When we say that the volume possesses all the intellectual, moral, and
spiritual ch.iracteristics which have won for its author so distinguished a place
among the religious teachers of our time . . . what further recommendation
can be nQZ'H'sarj'i"— Nonconformist.
The Risen Christ • '^^"^ ^'"^ ""^ ^^-''- ^^ '^'^ '^'*'
1 lie IVlbCU V^iiribL . J BALDWIN Brown, M.A., Author
of "The Homo Life," &c. Crown 8vo., cloth, 73. 6d.
C^M/iw/^.— Immortality Veiled— The Piitnary Lesson— Foreshadowings—
Resurrection the Key to the Life of Christ- The Witness of the Disciples—
The Testimony of St. I'aul— The Universal Acceptance— The Resurrection of
Christ— The Risen Christ the King of Men— Ihe Founding of the Kingdom—
The Administration— The Ruling Power- The Free Citizer.ihip— The New.
Humanity.
14 Cbeologp anti Plitlosopbp.
Christian Facts and Forces, ^^^i^^^llrrr
" The Reality of Faith." Crown 8vo., cloth, 4s. 6d.
Contents.— Ihc Changed World— The Honesty of Jesus— Standing in the
Truth— The Positiveness of Jesus— The Beginnings of Discipleship— Signs of
the Times— The Note of Universality— Zebedee's Absence— The Christian
Revelation of Life — Reconciliation with Life — The Glorification of Life —
A Real Sense of Sin— A Lenten Sermon— Personal Power the Great
Requirement — Misunderstanding Christ— Putting the Witness Away— A Study
for the Doctrine of the Atonement— The Gospel a Gift to the Senses — The
Limits of Spiritual Manifestation — The Inter-dependence of All Saints.
(These discourses are notable for the absence of doctrinal discussion, and
for their strict adherence to a clear, simple, earnest exposition of the spirit of
Christ's teaching, in its practical application to every-day life.)
Faint vet Pursuinp- ^^ ^^^ ^^^- ^- J- ^a"^"^*
rdint, yCL JrurbUmg. Author of « How to be Happy
though Married." Square imp. i6mo., cloth, 6s.
Contents.— YaXni, yet Pursuing— Thorns in the Flesh— The Perfect Work
of Patience— A Refuge for the Distressed— Mistakes about Happiness—
A Wise Choice— The Day of Salvation— Sisera no Match for the Stars —
The Babylonian Captivity— God's Method of Punishment— Our Father's
Chastisement — Christian Friendship — Thoughts for Advent — Christmas
Thoughts— The Divine Arithmetic of Life— Excuses— Secret Faults—" Is it
not a Little One?"— Forewarned, Forearmed — No Waste — Good Friday and
Bad Friday— The Full, Perfect, and Sufficient Sacrifice— Volunteer for God—
The Lord and Giver of Life- Worldliness— Bid Christ to your Wedding —
Old Testament Heroes— Are Christian Principles Practical ?— Christian
Socialism — Seeing not Necessarily Believing.
The Meditations and Maxims of Koheleth,
A Practical Exposition of the Book of Ecclesiastcs. By
Rev. T. Campbell Finlayson. Crown 8vo., 6s.
" A thoughtful and practical commentary on a book of Holy Scripture which
needs much spiritual wisdom for its exposition. . . . Sound and judicious
handling. " — Rock.
The Pharaohs of the Bondage and the
Exodus. Lectures by Charles S. Robinson, D.D., LL.D.
Second edition. Large crown 8vo., cloth, 5s.
' ' Both lectures are conceived in a very earnest spirit, and are developed with
much dignity and force. We have the greatest satisfaction in commending it to
the attention of Biblical students and Christian ministers."— ^^/i-rary World.
CbeologjP aiiD pfjilosopbp.
A Short Introduction to the History of
Ancient Israel. By the Rev. A, W. Oxford, M.A., Vicar
of St. Luke's, Berwick Street, Soho, Editor of "The
Berwick Hymnal," &cc. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d,
" We can testify to the great amount of labour it Teprescnts." —Li/erary World.
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The chief papers of interest in The
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: NICHOLAS
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Price \s. Monthly. Post free, 14/. n -^ecir.
Xon^on : C. ifiebci itltiwin, 2i?, ipatcinostct Sciuavc.
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