Y 
 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 % 
 
 BX 9178 .Al S3 1881 
 Scotch sermons, 1880 
 
 "^ 
 
 Shelf. 
 
SCOTCH SERMOl^S, 
 
 1880. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1881. 
 
TO 
 
 ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, 
 
 S;^c ^tmx of SS^fstntinslcr, 
 
 THIS EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 SCOTCH SERMONS 
 IS DEDICATED. 
 
 October, 18S0. 
 
PEEFAOE. 
 
 This volume lias originated in the wish to gather 
 together a few specimens of a style of teaching which 
 increasingly prevails among the clergy of the Scottish 
 Church. 
 
 It does not claim to represent either the full extent 
 of that teaching, or the range of subjects on which in 
 their public ministrations its authors are in the habit 
 of discoursing. It may, however, serve to indicate a 
 growing tendency, and to show the direction in which 
 thought is moving. It is the work of those whose hope 
 for the future lies, not in alterations of ecclesiastical 
 organization, but in a profounder apprehension of the 
 essential ideas of Christianity ; and especially in the 
 growth, within the Church, of such a method of present- 
 ing them as shall show that they are equally adapted to 
 the needs of humanity, and in harmony with the results 
 of critical and scientific research. 
 
 Some of the Sermons were preached exactly as they 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 now aj)pear, and are no more than samples of poj)ular 
 religious teaching. Others have been written expressly 
 for the volume, or have been considerably enlarged after 
 having been delivered from the pulpit. The writers are 
 all clergymen of the Church of Scotland. 
 
 Should this volume accomplish its aim, it may be 
 followed by another series. 
 
 The Editor. 
 Christmas^ 1S79. 
 
I liw. _., , I 
 
 :f PEiirci^K-r 
 
 VI 
 
 \^HJ20L0QiG:'r, / 
 
 ^^. 
 
 -^ ^ _^-rr 
 
 \' 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I.— CORPORATE IMMORTALITY 
 
 By the Very Rer. John Cairo, D. D., Trincipal of the 
 University of Glasgow. 
 
 PACK 
 11 
 
 II.— UNIOIT WITH GOD .... 
 
 By the Very Rev. John Caird, D. D., Principal of the 
 University of Glasgow. 
 
 26 
 
 III.— HOMESPUN" RELIGION" . 
 
 By the Rev. John Ccnningham, D. D., Crieff. 
 
 41 
 
 IV.— THE RELIGION OF LOVE 
 
 By the Rev. John Cunningham, D. D., Crieff. 
 
 53 
 
 v.— LAW AND MIRACLE .... 06 
 By the Rev. D. J. Ferguson, B. D., Strathblanc. 
 
 VI.— THE VISION OF GOD .... 80 
 By the Rev. D. J. Ferguson, B. D., Strathblane. 
 
 VII.— CONSERVATION AND CHANGE . . 94 
 
 By the Rev. William Knight, LL. D., Professor of 
 Moral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrews. 
 
3 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 VIIL— THE CONTINUITY AND DEVELOPMENT OF 
 
 RELIGION Ill 
 
 By the Rev. William Knight, LL. D., Professor of 
 Moral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrews. 
 
 IX.— THE LAW OF MORAL CONTINUITY . . 128 
 
 By the Rev. William Mackintosh, D. D., Buchanan. 
 
 X.— THE RENOVATING POWER OF CHRISTIAN- 
 ITY 146 
 
 By the Rev. William Mackintosh, D. D., Buchanan. 
 
 XI.— AUTHORITY 173 
 
 By the Rev. William Leckie M'Farlan, Lcnzie. 
 
 Xn.— THE THINGS WHICH CAN NOT BE SHAKEN 194 
 By the Rev. William Leckie M'Farlan, Lenzie. 
 
 XIII.— THE SUCCESSORS OF THE GREAT PHYSI- 
 CIAN 215 
 
 By the Rev. Allan Menzies, B. D., Abernyte. 
 
 XIV.— THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. . . 227 
 
 By the Rev. Allan Menzies, B. D., Abernyte. 
 
 XV.— THE ASSEMBLING OF OURSELVES TOGETHER 236 
 By the Rev. James Nicoll, Murroes. 
 
 XVL— INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH . 247 
 
 By the Rev. Thomas Rain, M. A., Hutton. 
 
 XVII.— THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN . 267 
 
 By the Rev. Thomas Rain, M. A., Hutton, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGR 
 
 XVIIL— ETERNAL LIFE 281 
 
 By the Rev. Adam Semple, B. D., Iluntly. 
 
 XIX.-RELIGIOIT— THEOLOGY-ECCLESIASTICISM 291 
 By the Rev. John Stevenson, Glamis. 
 
 XX.— UNITY 306 
 
 By the Rev. Patrick Stevenson, Inverarity. 
 
 XXL— ETERNAL LIFE 315 
 
 By the Rev. Patrick Stevenson, Inverarity. 
 
 XXIL— CHRIST'S AUTHORITY . . . .322 
 
 By the Rev. Robert Herbert Story, D. D., Rosneath. 
 
 XXIIL— CHRISTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS . . .334 
 
 By the Rev. Robert Herbert Story, D. D., Rosneath. 
 

 HBO 
 
 SCOTCH SERMONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 COEPOKATE IMMORTALITY. 
 
 BY THE VERY REV. JOHN CAIRO, D. D., PRINCIPAL OF THE TNIVEESITY 
 
 OF GLASGOW. 
 
 " These all, having obtained a good report through faith, received 
 not the promise : God having provided some better thing for us, 
 that they without us should not be made perfect."— Heb. xi, 39, 40. 
 
 There is something at once of exultation and of sad- 
 ness in the words with which the writer of this book closes 
 his recapitulation of the glorious roll of the saints and mar- 
 tyrs and heroes of ancient times. They were men " of 
 whom the world was not worthy." They were inspired 
 with a noble enthusiasm for great ends, with dauntless for- 
 titude and self-devotion, with an unquenchable faith m 
 things spiritual, with high hopes for the future of human- 
 ity. But, judged by the outward eye, their life was a fail- 
 ure : they never attained to the end of their aspirations ; 
 one after another, like breaking waves on the strand of 
 time they were compelled to succumb to the universal lim- 
 its of human endeavor. In the midst of their noble strug- 
 gles they were constrained in succession to yield to the 
 inevitable summons, their work unaccomplished, their hopes 
 unfulfilled, the dearest object of their lives nothing better 
 
12 CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. [sermon i. 
 
 than a far-oflf goal. " These all died in the faith," it is 
 written, " not having received the promises, but having seen 
 them afar off." And again, " These all, having obtained a 
 good report through faith, received not the promise." 
 
 At first sight, therefore, the language of the text is 
 simply a repetition of the old refrain, " Vanity of vanities," 
 with which writers, inspired and uninspired, have summed 
 up their trite moralizings over the evanescence and incom- 
 pleteness of human life. The saddest aspect of human 
 existence, this writer seems to say, is, not simply that in 
 which it seems to be full of care and sorrow and trouble, 
 but that in which it suggests the impression of frustration, 
 abortiveness, incompleteness. We never receive the prom- 
 ise. We never are the thing we seem designed to be. There 
 are in our nature the beginnings and materials of great things, 
 but they are never realized. The foundation is ever grander 
 than the superstructure, the outline than the picture, the 
 promise than the fulfillment. We can form soaring ideals 
 of individual and social perfection, but they only serve to 
 throw contempt on the poverty and meanness of our actual 
 life. Human nature seems to be a thing of boundless pos- 
 sibilities but of miserable performances, of capacities which 
 are never, or only feebly and partially developed, of desires, 
 hopes, aspirations, to which, even when the will to realize 
 them is present, the poor results which our brief life permits 
 us to reach are ludicrously disproportionate. Moreover, it 
 is precisely in the case of the best and greatest of men that 
 this incompleteness is most marked. If all men were, what 
 so many seem tc» be, creatures of mere animal and selfish 
 desires, finding all the satisfaction they care for in eating, 
 drinking, money-making, in dress and gossip and foolish 
 display and petty social rivalries and triumphs, there would 
 be no sense of incongruity in the brevity of human life. 
 There would be nothing to startle or surprise us in the fact 
 that an existence of such mean and shallow aims should 
 
CAIBD.J CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. 13 
 
 cease for ever when its brief earthly career has run out. 
 Far less, indeed, than threescore years and ten suffices often 
 to play out that poor plot, to exhaust its whole interest and 
 significance. But it is when we turn to contemplate human 
 life in its nobler representatives that the sense of unfulfilled 
 promise forces itself on our minds. Its minds of rare and 
 piercing intelligence, filled with the evei'-growing thirst of 
 knowledge, catching glimpses on all sides of unexplored 
 regions of thought, into which it would be their delight to 
 penetrate, and who seem to themselves, after the labors of 
 a lifetime, to be only standing on the very outskirts of the 
 realm of truth ; its great originative intellects, capable of 
 striking out new discoveries, of penetrating into the secrets 
 of nature, of discerning the w^ants of society, and of framing 
 comprehensive plans for its amelioration and progress ; or, 
 finally, its beautiful, heroic, saintly spirits, refined and puri- 
 fied by the discipline of years, exalted above all that is 
 selfish and sensual, and sometimes doing deeds at the mere 
 recountal of which our hearts thrill with involuntary ad- 
 miration, and which are the silent proj^hecy of an unre- 
 vealed splendor in the spiritual nature of man — it is in the 
 case of such natures as these that the cruel limits of life 
 strike us most palpably. The whole being of such men 
 seems molded on a scale that is pure waste and extrava- 
 gance, measured by the few and rapid years of our individ- 
 ual life. The infinite hunger for truth and goodness, the 
 thoughts that wander through eteraity, the feelings of love 
 and adoi'ation which point to an object nothing less than 
 infinite — it seems strange and monstrous that these inex- 
 haustible capacities have no longer time for satisfaction 
 than the lust or appetite which an hour will cloy. Of what 
 use the vision of infinite perfection, if the same fell stroke 
 is to shatter it alike with the poorest dream of worldly suc- 
 cess ! What meaning is there in the capacity of conceiving 
 and living for objects the very least of which it would re- 
 
14 CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. [sermon i. 
 
 quire many lives to accomplish — in a mind filled with great 
 designs, the results of which it needs generations to develop, 
 or fired with enthusiasm for the progress of the race in civ- 
 ilization and goodness, when soon and for ever it shall cease 
 to have any more a part in all that is done beneath the sun ? 
 Now, it is this view of human life which in the latter 
 clause of our text the sacred writer seems to meet. Is our 
 life indeed an incomplete and broken thing? Is human 
 existence but at the best a splendid failure ? Is the promise 
 which our nature contains never fulfilled ? The common 
 answer, as we all know, to such questions is that which 
 finds in the notion of the " immortality of the soul " the 
 solution of the difiiculty. The life that seems so incom- 
 plete is only a part of man's duration. It will receive its 
 complement in a future world. But whatever truth there 
 is in the notion of individual immortality, it was obviously 
 not this, but another and different idea, which was before 
 the mind of the writer of our text, as that in which he found 
 consolation for the fragmentariness and imperfection of the 
 life of man. " These all died in the faith," he writes, " not 
 having received the promise." " These all, who obtained 
 a good report through faith, received not the promise." 
 Their life, replete with immortal hopes, instinct with the 
 spirit and promise of a splendid future, was abruptly ter- 
 minated. But it was not really so. The promise was not 
 left unfulfilled, the continuity was not broken. Their story 
 has not been left without a sequel. The life they lived is 
 one that is never broken, that never dies, that is ever deep- 
 ening, developing, ever through the ages advancing to its 
 consummation. Every one of these ancient saints and 
 martyrs, he seems to say, has had a share in the advancing 
 life of humanity, and in the Christian Church of his own 
 day he sees only the flower and fruit of the same plant of 
 which they were the seed or germ, the maturity of the 
 same organic life of which the Church of a former day 
 
CAiKD.] CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. 15 
 
 was the childhood or youth. These passed away, he ex- 
 claims, and life in them was one of unfulfilled promise. 
 But of that promise we are the fulfillment : " God having 
 provided some better thing for us, that they without us 
 should not be made perfect." 
 
 Let us for a moment consider what is involved in this 
 view of the spiritual life of man, and try to gather from it 
 the lessons with which it is fraught. 
 
 The imperfection which this writer ascribes to the indi- 
 vidual lives of a past time arises necessarily from this : that 
 it constitutes the very grandeur and nobleness of human 
 .life to be incapable of a purely individual perfection, and 
 that each successive generation can say of the men and the 
 ages that are past, " They without us could not be made 
 perfect." 
 
 And to see this you have only to consider how all exist- 
 ences rise in the scale of nobleness just in proportion as 
 they are incapable of individual perfection. The stones 
 which are intended to form part of a building lose their 
 separate unity and any completeness they possessed merely 
 as stones. Taken apart, they might seem unmeaning or 
 even grotesque and unshapely in form and outline. But it 
 would be a foolish and vain thing to try to give them a 
 kind of individual completeness by rounding off a ragged 
 edge here or filling up an unsightly gap there. It is just 
 that which makes them individually imperfect that lends 
 to them the capacity of contributing to a higher perfection. 
 When the stone is built into the shaft or column, or when 
 around and above the unsightly structural fragment rise 
 the other portions which form its complement in the unity 
 of some fair and stately edifice, we pex'ceive how, lacking 
 or losing individual completeness, it has become sharer in 
 a greater and higher completeness, a necessary contribu- 
 tion to and participant in the perfection and beauty of the 
 whole. 
 
le COBPOEATS IMMORTALITY. [sermon i. 
 
 That incapacity of individual perfection is the measure 
 of inherent dignity and excellence is still more clearly seen 
 when we take the example of the living organism. Here 
 too, as in the previous illustration, we have a multiplicity 
 of individual parts or members, each of which, taken apart 
 by itself, has no worth or significance. Here too that which 
 would be a mere imperfect fragment, a maimed or mutilated 
 thing, if disunited from the other members, receives, in its 
 union with them, a share in that larger life, that symmetry, 
 order, proportion, that excellence and beauty of diversity 
 in unity, which belongs to the organic whole. It is in the 
 absolute surrender of any isolated existence, in the fulfill- . 
 ment of its function as existing for and contributing to the 
 welfare and growth of the other parts of the organism, that 
 the individual member or organ receives back into itself a 
 participation in a richer and amjDler existence. Its own 
 perfection is impossible without them. So long as in the 
 living organism any one part or member is undeveloped, 
 there is something lacking to the perfection and happiness 
 of the rest. They without it can not be made perfect. 
 Lastly, there is this peculiarity in the final perfection of the 
 organism, that it is reached, not, as in the former example, 
 by accretion, but by the perpetual change and renewal of 
 its elements — by absorption and development. As it rises 
 through its successive stages, the materials of which it is 
 composed do not remain, like the stones of a building, fixed 
 and permanent, one stone or series of stones superimposed 
 on another, each, from foundation to copestone, remaining 
 to the last what it was at the beginning. On the contrary, 
 wherever there is life, its earliest beginnings are present in- 
 deed, but in a far more intimate and subtile way, in the 
 beauty and perfection of its latest and highest form. Seed 
 or germ, rising stem, leaf and blossom, fruit and flower, do 
 not continue side by side ; the last is the perfection of the 
 first, but it is a perfection attained by unresting mutation. 
 
OAiED.J CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. 17 
 
 by the seeming extinction and absorption of all that went 
 before. When you have reached the rich profusion of sum- 
 mer, the tender grace of the vernal woods is a thing that is 
 gone ; Avhen you gather the fruit, the gay blossom has 
 passed away. And each successive phase of the living or- 
 ganism, as it passes from the embryo to the full-grown 
 frame of manhood, is the vital result of all that it has been. 
 The past lives in it — it could not be what it now is but for 
 the past — but nothing of that past remains as it was ; it 
 does remain, but it remains as absorbed, transformed, 
 worked up into the vei*y essence of a new and nobler being. 
 The unity of the fully developed life gathers up into it, not 
 by juxtaposition or accumulation, but in a far deeper way, 
 the concentrated results of its whole bygone history. Thus 
 the nobleness of imperfect life lies in its very imperfection. 
 It is greater than even the most complete and finished of 
 material things, because it is full of yet unfulfilled promise, 
 because the possibilities of an ever-advancing progress are 
 concealed in it, because it contains in it the promise and 
 prophecy of a future without which it can not be made 
 perfect. 
 
 Now, it is in this idea, rather than in that of a merely 
 individual immortality, that the writer of the passage before 
 us finds the explanation of the seeming incompleteness and 
 evanescence of human life. It is here that he seeks the 
 solution of that contrast of greatness and littleness, of noble- 
 ness and meanness, of beginnings so full of promise and 
 results so poor and insignificant, on which moralists in all 
 ages have been fain to dwell. Regarded from the indi- 
 vidual point of view, human life is the paradoxical thing 
 which such reflections make it to be. Individual happiness, 
 individual perfection are never attained ; but it is, he de- 
 clares, the very greatness and glory of man's nature to be 
 incapable of it. The key to the riddle of human life, the 
 explanation of the scale on which our nature is constructed. 
 
18 CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. [sebmon i. 
 
 of the boundlessness of its hopes, the inexhaustibleness of 
 its desires, of its eager longing for a larger, fuller, more 
 lasting life, of the splendor of its ideals, and the dissatisfac- 
 tion with their best attainments which the noblest spirits 
 feel, is this : that he who lives nobly and wisely, who rises 
 above the narrow life of sense, to identify himself with that 
 which is universal and infinite, is sharer in a life of human- 
 ity that is never arrested, and shall never die. It needs lit- 
 tle reflection to perceive that the whole order of things in 
 which we live is constructed not on the principle that we 
 are sent into this world merely to prepare for another, or 
 that the paramount aim and effort of every man should be 
 to make ready for death and an unknown existence beyond 
 the grave. On the contrary, in our own nature and in the 
 system of things to which we belong, everything seems to 
 be devised on the principle that our interest in the world 
 and human affairs is not to terminate at death. It is not, 
 as false moralists would have us believe, a mere illusion, a 
 proof only of the folly and vanity of man, that we do not 
 and can not feel and act as if we were to have no concern 
 with this world the moment we quit it. It is not a mere 
 irrational impulse that moves us when, in the acquisition of 
 knowledge, in the labors of the statesman and legislator, in 
 the houses we build, the trees we plant, the books we write, 
 the works of art we create, the schemes of social ameliora- 
 tion we devise, the educational institutions we organize and 
 improve, we act otherwise than we should do if our interest 
 in all earthly affairs were in a few brief yeai's to come to 
 an end. It is liot due to a universal mistake that we work 
 for a thousand ends the accomplishment of which we shall 
 not live to see, that the passions we feel are more intense, 
 the efforts we put forth immeasurably greater, than if we 
 were soon and for ever to have done with it all. Even the 
 desire of posthumous fame, which has been the theme of a 
 thousand sarcasms and satirical moralizings, the passion that 
 
CAiRD.] CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. I9 
 
 impels us to do deeds and create works which men will be 
 thinking of and honoring when we are gone, does not rest 
 on a mere trick of false association which your clever psy- 
 chologist can explain so deftly, but is the silent, ineradicable 
 testimony of our nature to the share we have in the undying 
 life of humanity. So again it is no mere logical abstraction 
 which rises before the mind when we talk of a national life 
 which embraces and transcends that of the individuals who 
 pertain to it, and which, when they seem to come and go 
 like shadows, goes on broadening, deepening, developing in 
 knowledge and power and freedom. It is no imaginative 
 fiction, for example, but a sober fact to which we refer, 
 when we speak of the silent, steady growth of that organic 
 unity, that system of ordered freedom, which we designate 
 the Constitution of England, and when we say that chat is 
 the collective result of all that was valuable in the intellect- 
 ual and moral and religious life of the myriads who, from 
 the first pioneers of England's civilization downward, have 
 contributed to her progress ; that all that her poets have 
 sung, and philosophers taught, and statesmen, legislators, war- 
 riors, patriots, have achieved — nay, all that has been accom- 
 plished by thousands of nameless and unhonored lives which 
 have been poured out like water in the cause of her civil 
 and religious freedom — all this, assimilated and transmuted 
 into the very bone and fiber of her social existence, lives 
 still in that great and still growing personality, the national 
 life of our country. And when we take a Avider range still, 
 it is no mere figure of speech when we say that there is 
 another and still grander personality which comprehends 
 within it the life of nations as well as of individuals, and 
 which, when the place of nations knows them no more, 
 when their function in the providential order of the world 
 has long been finished, and their glory and splendor is a 
 thing of the past, retains in it the elements of spiritual good 
 which it was their vocation to work out, gathered up and 
 
20 CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. [sermon i. 
 
 transfused into that undying life of humanity without which 
 they could not be made perfect. The perfection of man is 
 not the perfection of the Jew, nor of the Greek, nor of the 
 Roman ; but there is a richer, fuller, more complex life, 
 into which the Hebrew consciousness of holiness and sin, 
 the ideal beauty of the Greek, the sense of law and order 
 which Rome left as her legacy to mankind, flow together 
 and are blended in the unity of the Christian civilization of 
 the modern world. And that too, in its turn, is still far 
 short of that ideal perfection which our Christian faith re- 
 veals, and for the realization of w^hich it calls us to live and 
 labor. Eighteen centuries ago a vision of human perfection, 
 a revelation of the hidden possibilities of our nature, broke 
 upon the world in the pei'son and life of Jesus Christ ; and, 
 as we contrast with this the highest attainments which the 
 best of men or communities have yet reached, it seems an 
 ideal toward which as a yet far-distant goal, with slow and 
 stumbling steps, humanity is tending. Yet for this at least 
 the belief in it suffices, in the hearts that have become pene- 
 trated with the sense of its sublime reality and beauty — to 
 assure them that whatever of greatness or goodness in the 
 long course of ages humanity has attained, is but an augury 
 of that splendid future which is yet in store for it. For no 
 ideal of a perfect state, no dream of a golden age or para- 
 dise restored which has ever visited the imagination of 
 genius, or risen before the rapt gaze of inspired seer or 
 prophet, can surpass that future of universal light and love 
 which Christianity encourages us to hope for as the destiny 
 of our race — that time when human society shall be perme- 
 ated through and through with the spirit of Jesus Christ, 
 and the whole race, and every individual member of it, shall 
 rise to the point of moral and spiritual elevation which that 
 life represents, when " we shall all come into the unity of the 
 faith, and knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, 
 unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ." 
 
CMRD.] CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. 21 
 
 It is then in this idea that we find, as I have said, the 
 true solution of that contrast between the la-gness of hu- 
 man desires and hopes and the brevity of human life, be- 
 tween our far-reaching aims and aspirations and the con- 
 tempt which death seems to pour on them. Death doeswoZ 
 pour contempt on them. You can think and desire and 
 work for more than the petty interests of your brief indi- 
 vidual life, because you are more and greater than the in- 
 dividual, because it is possible for you to share in a univer- 
 sal and undying life, with the future of which your most 
 boundless aspirations are not incompatible. It is little in- 
 deed that each of us can accomplish within the narrow lim- 
 its of our own little day. Small indeed is the contribution 
 which the best of us can make to the advancement of the 
 world in knowledge and goodness. But slight though it 
 be, if the work we do is real and noble work, it is never 
 lost ; it is taken up into and becomes an integral moment 
 of that immortal life to which all the good and groat of the 
 past, every wise thinker, every true and tender heart, every 
 fair and saintly spirit, have contributed, and which, never 
 hasting, never resting, onward through the ages is advanc- 
 ing to its consummation. Live for your own petty interests 
 and satisfactions, waste the treasure of an immortal nature 
 on the lust of the eye and the lust of the flesh and the pride 
 of life, and death will indeed be the destroyer of all your 
 hopes and ambitions. But live for the good of others, live 
 to make your fellow-men wiser and happier and better, take 
 part with those nobler spirits of all time who have striven 
 for the rectification of human wrongs, the healing of human 
 wretchedness, the redemption of human souls from evil, the 
 advancement of the world in knowledge and wisdom 
 and goodness — live for these ends, and the whole order 
 and history of the world, and that Gospel of Heaven's 
 grace in which we believe as the revelation of God's pur- 
 pose and plan for our race, must prove a fable, if your 
 
22 CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. [sermon i. 
 
 most boundless hopes and aspirations be doomed to disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 But what, after all, avails for me, does any one ask, this 
 idea of a future perfection of humanity, these hopes and 
 endeavors for a world in whose good or ill I shall soon have 
 no place or part ? It is not the immortality of the race, but 
 my own, that is the great and all-important question for me 
 — not whether the progress of mankind shall go on in a 
 world I am so soon to quit, but whether there is another 
 world beyond the grave, and whether death shall find me 
 prepared for it. Even if it be true that this dream of a per- 
 fect social state is in some far-distant day to be realized in 
 this world, what personal interest can I have in a perfection 
 and happiness I shall never know and in which I shall never 
 participate ? 
 
 I answer, that the idea of the text, far from destroying, 
 only lends new significance and reality to, the hope of a 
 personal immortality. It leaves the arguments for immor- 
 tality which reason and Christian faith suggest precisely 
 what they were ; only it bids us think of that immortality, 
 not as a vague and shadowy state of blessedness in some 
 unknown existence beyond the grave, but as the realization 
 of those possibilities of perfection which our nature con- 
 tains, and which are present here and now, ready to be 
 elicited in the common earthly life of man. " These all died 
 in the faith, not having received the promise." That for 
 which these ancient heroes and martyrs lived and labored, 
 that which would be to them the crown and consummation 
 of their dearest hopes and the reward of their sacrifice and 
 self-devotion, was not a heaven of dreamy, isolated happi- 
 ness, to which at the hour of death they should withdraw, 
 no longer to be affected by the struggles and sorrows of 
 humanity. They toiled and suffered and died for the good 
 of mankind ; their dearest, deepest desires Avere not for self- 
 ish happiness here or hereaftei', but for the redemption of 
 
CAiRD.] CORPORATE IMMORTALITY. 23 
 
 the world from evil ; this was the heaven they longed for, and 
 the bliss of any other heaven would be incomplete without it. 
 And we too, if we inherit their spirit, shall feel that for 
 the heaven we seek we need not fly away on the wings of 
 imagination to some unknown region of celestial enjoyment 
 where we shall summer high in bliss heedless of mankind — 
 where, lost in seraphic contemplation, steeped in voluptu- 
 ous spiritual enjoyment, we shall forget or be unaffected by 
 the good or evil of the world we have left. The materials 
 of our heaven, the elements of that glorious future in which 
 we hope one day to share, are present here, within us and 
 around us, in our very hands and in our mouths. The Di- 
 vine and Eternal are ever near us. God does not dwell in 
 some far-off point of space ; He is not more present any- 
 where else than on this earth of ours, nor could any local 
 transition or physical transformation bring him nearer. 
 God is here, above, beneath, around us ; and the only 
 change that is needed to bring us to the beatific vision of 
 his presence is the quickening and clarifying of human souls. 
 Purify and ennoble these, let pure light fill the minds and 
 pure love the hearts of men, and heaven would be here, the 
 common air and skies would become resplendent with a di- 
 vine glory. The eternal world is not a world beyond time 
 and the grave. It embraces time ; it is ready to realize 
 itself under all the forms of temporal things. Its light and 
 power are latent everywhere, waiting for human souls to 
 welcome it, ready to break through the transparent veil of 
 earthly things, and to suffuse with its ineffable radiance the 
 common life of man. And so, the siiprerae aim of Chris- 
 tian endeavor is not to look away to an inconceivable heav- 
 en beyond the skies, and to spend our life in preparing for 
 it, but it is to realize that latent heaven, those possibilities 
 of spiritual good, that undeveloped kingdom of righteous- 
 ness and love and truth, which human nature and human 
 society contain. 
 
24 CORPOEATE IMMORTALITY. [seemon i. 
 
 Does any one press on me tlie thought that, say what 
 you will of the future, death to each of us is near, and no 
 ulterior hope can quell the nearer anxiety as to what is to 
 become of us, and how we are to prepare for that fast-ap- 
 proaching, inevitable hour? Then I answer, finally, that 
 to whatever world death introduce you, the best conceiv- 
 able preparation for it is to labor for the highest good of the 
 world in which you live. Be the change which death brings 
 what it may, he who has spent his life in trying to make 
 this world better can never be unprepared for another. If 
 heaven is for the pure and holy, if that which makes men 
 good is that which best qualifies for heaven, what better 
 discipline in goodness can we conceive for a human spirit, 
 what more calculated to elicit and develop its highest affec- 
 tions and energies, than to live and labor for our brother's 
 welfare ? To find our deepest joy, not in the delights of 
 sense, nor in the gratification of personal ambition, nor even 
 in the serene pursuits of culture and science, nay, not even 
 in seeking the safety of our own souls, but in striving for 
 the highest good of those who are dear to our Father in 
 heaven, and the moral and spiritual redemption of that 
 world for which the Son of God lived and died — say, can a 
 nobler school of goodness be discovered than this ? Where 
 shall love and sympathy and beneficence find ampler train- 
 ing ? or patience, courage, dauntless devotion, nobler oppor- 
 tunities of exercise — than in the war with evil? Where 
 shall faith find richer culture, or hope a more entrancing 
 aim, than in that victory over sin and sorrow and death, 
 which, if Christianity be true, is one day to crown the strife 
 of ages ? Live for this, find your dearest work here, let 
 love to God and man be the animating principle of your 
 being ; and then, let death come when it may, and carry 
 you where it will, you will not be unprepared for it. The 
 rendinjT of the veil which hides the secrets of the unseen 
 world, the summons that calls you into regions unknown, 
 
CAiKD.] COEFOEATE IMMORTALITY. 25 
 
 need awaken in your breast no perturbation or dismay, for 
 you can not in God's universe go where love and truth and 
 self-devotion are things of naught, or where a soul, filled 
 with undying faith in the progress and identifying its own 
 happiness with the final triumph of goodness, shall find it- 
 self forsaken. 
 
 2 
 
26 UmON WITH GOD. [sEEiioN u. 
 
 n. 
 
 UNIOK WITH GOD. 
 
 BT THE VERY HEV. JOHN CAIRD, D. D., PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF GLASGOW 
 
 " That they all may be one ; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in 
 thee, that they also may be one in us. . . , And the glory which 
 thou gavest me I have given them ; that they may be one, even as 
 we are one : I in them, and thou in me, that they maybe made per- 
 fect in one." — John svii, 21-23. 
 
 By those who reject the doctrine of the Divinity of 
 Christ, great stress is often laid on the argument that what- 
 ever tampers with Christ's real and simple humanity de- 
 prives Christianity of that which gives it its chief value as 
 a religion for man. The mysterious grandeur which is 
 thrown around the personality of the Author of our religion 
 is dearly bought if it removes him beyond the reach of our 
 human sympathies, or makes it impossible to think of him 
 as in any real sense sharing our sorrows, infirmities, and 
 temptations, and as exhibiting in his life an ideal of excel- 
 lence to which all human beings may aspire. The most 
 precious ingredient of Christianity is, it is said, the ideal 
 which Christ's character and life present of what humanity 
 essentially is, and of what we may become. It communi- 
 cates a new inspiration to virtue, a new impulse to moral 
 endeavor, to contemplate in him a revelation of the hidden 
 beauty and greatness of our nature. It ministers strength 
 to us amid the temptations of life to see how a noble human 
 
cAiRD.] UNION WITH GOD. 27 
 
 spirit triumphed over them ; and human wretchedness, 
 through a hundred generations, has found its sweetest con- 
 solation in the thought of the tender sympathy of one who 
 drank more deeply than all other mortals of the cup of suf- 
 fering, who was preeminently " the man of sori'ows and ac- 
 quainted with grief." 
 
 But, it is argued, all this consolation and encouragement 
 are lost the moment you introduce a foreign or superhuman 
 element into the conception of Christ's person. Not only 
 does the mind become confused in the attempt to grasp 
 such a notion as that of a being half-human, half-divine, 
 but the life and history of such a being are deprived of their 
 exemplary value. What we need is a type, not of super- 
 human, but of human excellence. If it is to afford any 
 stimulus to effort, what is set before me must, however ex- 
 alted in degree, be an example not of what is possible for 
 an angel or a God, but of what is possible for a man. It 
 gives me no encouragement, in facing the temptations to 
 which flesh is heir, to be told how a being whose human 
 nature was rendered infallible by combination with a Divine 
 . nature overcame them. It does not make me more coura- 
 geous in fighting life's conflicts to witness a being, practi- 
 cally omnipotent, coming scatheless out of them. When I 
 vainly try to conceive of an immutable sufferer, an omnipo- 
 tent weakness, of a consciousness of pain and doubt and 
 perplexity experienced by a being who is at the same time 
 impassible and omniscient, the sense of sympathy is over- 
 awed and repressed. I can no longer feel the magic thrill 
 that responds in the hour of sorrow and darkness to the 
 touch of a tender human hand. Set before me the example 
 of a being of flesh and blood, and, however splendid it be, 
 I can at all events feel rebuked by its faultless purity and 
 nobleness ; but, by the example of what was achieved by 
 a God in human shape, I am no more humiliated than the 
 crawling worm or browsing cattle by the eagle's soaring 
 
28 UAH ON WITH GOD [sermon ii. 
 
 flight. If Christ was man, and nothing more than man, 
 though I fall miserably short of the perfection and beauty 
 of his life, I can at least try to be like him, and be ennobled 
 by my very failures ; but is there not a kind of blasphemy 
 as well as folly in the very thought of a finite being strain- 
 ing after resemblance to infinitude and omnijDotence ? 
 
 Now, while there is, no doubt, a way of thinking about 
 the nature of God and man which would render this objec- 
 tion to the Christian doctrine unanswerable, there is another 
 and different conception of them which our Lord's words 
 in this passage bring before us, and which completely meets 
 the difliculty. He makes it possible for all men to sympa- 
 thize with him, not by leveling down his own nature, but 
 by raising theirs ; not by disclaiming his own Divinity, but 
 by declaring that there are Divine elements. Divine possi- 
 bilities, in the common nature of man. He does not im- 
 poverish, himself of his own infinitude, but He reveals the 
 possibilities of an infinite wealth in us. " It is true," He 
 seems to tell us, " that I am Divine, that the human con- 
 sciousness in me is in absolute union with the consciousness 
 of God : ' Thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee.' But, in 
 so saying, I do not place an impassa])le gulf between my 
 nature and yours, so as to remove myself beyond the reach 
 of your human fellowship and sympathy. I do not say that 
 what I am you can never hope to become. In the contem- 
 plation of my example, and of the ideal of goodness and 
 greatness which I set before you, there is no point at which 
 human sympathy and hope need be arrested. You, too, 
 may become * partakers of a Divine nature.' It is no impos- 
 sible and extravagant aspiration for you, also, to entertain, 
 that ye ' may be perfect, as your Father in heaven is per- 
 fect.' * This is the record that God hath given to you, eter- 
 nal life,' ' that eternal life which is in the Father and in his 
 Son Jesus Christ.' To enter into such identification with 
 the very nature of Deity that your thoughts, like mine. 
 
CAiKD.] UNION WITH GOD. 29 
 
 shall be God's thoughts, your will and actions, like mine, a 
 Divine will, a Divine activity — to become thus one with 
 God as I am, is not to transcend but to realize your true 
 nature as men. For nothing less than this is the height of 
 spiritual attainment, the glorious consummation which I 
 seek for humanity, for all my brethren after the flesh, ' That 
 they all may be one ; as thou. Father, art in me, and I in 
 thee. ... I in them, and thou in me, that they may be 
 made perfect in one.' " 
 
 Now, there can be no question that these words have to 
 the ear Avhat, if we met them in an uninspired book, many 
 would be disposed to characterize as a pantheistic sound, 
 and that the oneness or identification with Deity to which 
 they point seems to be open to the same objections which 
 are often urged against pantheistic teaching. What our 
 Lord here speaks of is not a mere outward relationship be- 
 tween God and man, such as subsists between distinct and 
 independent persons, as, for instance, between a master and 
 servant, between a ruler and subject — between beings, that 
 is, who, though they may enter into such external relations, 
 have yet a distinct and separate individual life of their own ; 
 but it is a oneness or union with God, of which his own in- 
 divisible j)ersonality is the type — a union therefore which 
 is not that of two beings, a human and Divine, existing 
 side by side or in contiguity with each other, but in which 
 the consciousness — the thought and will — of the one, is ab- 
 solutely blended and identified with that of the other, in 
 which the human is no lomrer divisible from the Divine : 
 " As thou. Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they may 
 be one in us." But is not the great objection to pantheism 
 and pantheistic religions and philosophies just this, that 
 they tamper with or swamp the individuality, the moral 
 independence and responsibility of man? Our high pre- 
 rogative as moral and spiritual beings is, that we have each 
 of us a separate self, a consciousness and will which no other 
 
30 UNION WITH GOD. [seemon ii. 
 
 being can invade, and in virtue of which we are each of us 
 responsible for his own acts and architect of his own moral 
 life and destiny. Amid the myriads of beings who con- 
 stitute the human race, is there not given to each a moral 
 individuality, a life which belongs to him apart from all 
 around him, a career of duty which no other can fulfill for 
 him, and which in time and eternity he and he alone must 
 accomplish ? Is not each human soul, as is often said, alone 
 amid the crowd ? However close the relations into which 
 we enter with others, however intimate the ties of kindred 
 or friendship, or of common inclinations and pursuits, can 
 the closest of these for a moment break down the impass- 
 able barrier between each and all other souls ? In my sor- 
 rows you may pity me, but the tenderest affection can not 
 make my pain yours. In my guilt and sin you may grieve 
 for me, but my sin can never become yours, the burden of 
 my moral acts can never be rolled over to you, now and for 
 ever my goodness or my guilt is all my own. And is not 
 this gift of spiritual individuality, which in some of its 
 aspects is so awful, just that which raises man above all 
 other finite beings — above the mere unconscious life of na- 
 ture, above the life of animals in whom the race is all, the 
 individual nothing — and which makes it possible for him 
 to attain a height of spiritual excellence, a perfection gained 
 by free self-development, a wealth of character wrought out 
 by individual effort, which no otherwise could be reached ? 
 In this precious gift, this possession of an inalienable self, 
 this right of each man to be himself, and to make and 
 develop himself, have not men recognized the root of all 
 liberty of thought, of all social, political, and religious 
 freedom? Take this away, annul that in the individual 
 in virtue of which he can say, in the face of every human 
 power and authority. You may possess yourself of my prop- 
 erty, fetter, imprison, and torture my body, but you can not 
 master my thoughts or invade the sanctuary of my soul — 
 
CAIRO.] UNION WITH GOD. 31 
 
 take away this, and would you not deprive man of his spir- 
 itual birthright, of a treasure for which nothing else could 
 compensate ? Nay, may we not say with reverence, that 
 it is the greatness and blessedness of man as a spiritual, 
 responsible being, that herein he possesses a prerogative 
 which even Omnipotence can not invade ? It is because I 
 can offer to God a free obedience and love that He is glori- 
 fied in my service and devotion. And if you could conceive 
 even a Divine Being susi5ending or taking away this indi- 
 viduality, bj'eaking down the barrier which divides my will 
 and consciousness from his, taking possession of my thoughts 
 and volitions so that they should no longer be my own but 
 his, making the movements of my mind as much the ex- 
 pression of Ills will as the motions of my limbs are of mine ; 
 you might call this the elevation of the hiiman into unity 
 with the Divine, but it would be no real elevation, it would 
 be rather the degradation and destruction of that in virtue 
 of which I am a being made in God's own image, and which 
 distinguishes my nature from that of the beasts that perish. 
 
 Now, undoubtedly, this idea of human individuality and 
 of what is involved in it is just and true, and it is impos- 
 sible to tamper with it without subverting the basis on 
 which morality and religion rest. But while it is the fatal 
 objection to all pantheistic theories that they do tamper 
 with it, I think we shall see that our Lord's words in the 
 text are the exi^ression of what may be described as a Chris- 
 tian pantheism which is not only consistent with the indi- 
 viduality of man, but gives to our conception of it new 
 significance and reality. He tells us of a oneness with God 
 so absolute that we may be said to be in God and God in 
 us, that our spiritual being shall be no more separate from 
 God's than Christ's own, and yet in which, so far from be- 
 ing infringed or sacrificed, our nature as men shall reach 
 its highest perfection. 
 
 Now, in order to see how absolute oneness with God 
 
32 UNION WITH GOD. [sermon n. 
 
 may be consistent with the most perfect individuality of 
 man — in other words, that a state of being is conceivable 
 in which thought, feeling, will, the whole consciousness of 
 man, shall be no longer separate from the Divine ; in which 
 God shall be all in all, and yet at the same time the moral 
 individuality, the personality and freedom of man, so far 
 from being suppressed, shall attain to its highest realization 
 — to see how this may be, I will ask you to reflect for a 
 moment what is the deepest and most real kind of unity 
 you can think of, what is that oneness which is most abso- 
 lute and indestructible, and whether that is a unity which 
 is attained by the suppression, or not rather by the free 
 play and development, of individual differences. The parts 
 of a stone are all precisely alike, the parts of a piece of 
 mechanism are all different from each other ; in which case 
 is the unity deepest ? — in that in which all distinction is sup- 
 pressed, or in that in which each separate part has a distinct 
 character, an individuality of its own ? No one portion of 
 a mass of sandstone differs essentially from any other ; any 
 one of the same size and shape would supply the place of 
 another, and in the unity which they compose even the poor 
 distinction of size and shape is completely lost. In a watch, 
 a steam-engine, or other elaborate machine, each part has 
 a distinctive character and worth, a place and function of 
 its own ; and so far from losing that individuality when 
 brought into the common unity, it is there and only there 
 that that individuality is manifested and realized. Apart 
 from the other pieces of the mechanism, each separate por- 
 tion sinks into a mere lump of metal. Yet who will hesi- 
 tate to pronounce in which case the unity is deepest? In 
 the one the parts have no inner essential relation to each 
 other, no deeper connection than that of mere juxtaposition. 
 In the other they are not merely stuck together externally, 
 but they exist and act, each for and by the others ; each is 
 necessary to the rest, and no one could be left out without 
 
CAIRO.] UNION WITH GOD. 33 
 
 marring or subverting the existence of tlie whole. The 
 inner bond of a common idea or design, and of order, har- 
 mony, proportion, runs through them all and welds them 
 together into a unity far transcending that of arbitrary and 
 outward contiguity. Surely it is here, in this latter exam- 
 ple, that the unity is most profound, and yet it is just here 
 that individuality is best preserved. 
 
 But there are deeper unities than this. A living organ- 
 ism, such as the body of man or any other animal, is a unity 
 not merely of parts, each of which fulfills a function neces- 
 sary to the rest, so that the brain, heart, lungs, the various 
 members and organs, have absolutely no separate or sepa- 
 rable existence or life, so that each lives in and by the rest, 
 their life its life, its life not its own but theirs ; but, more 
 than that, it is a unity ■which, unlike that of the machine, 
 the parts themselves /ce^, so that each sulfers in the injury 
 or suffering, is haj)py with the happiness and well-being of 
 the rest. But here, again, the closer and more integral one- 
 ness is not attained at the cost, but rather by the more 
 intense development, of individual distinctiveness. Each 
 member and organ is itself, attains to the richest develop- 
 ment of its individual nature, gains itself, so to speak, only 
 where it surrenders itself, its whole being and activity, to 
 the unity in which it is comprehended. If it begin to act 
 for itself, to seclude itself, to display any independent 
 phenomena, any slightest movement that is not conditioned 
 by the organism to which it belongs, the isolation is a fatal 
 one. And if it is entirely separated from the rest, if it 
 ceases to be permeated by a life that is other than its own, 
 the severed liml) or dissected organ loses its whole reality 
 and worth, and becomes mere dead inorganic matter. 
 
 And now, to apply this thought. I think we may be- 
 gin to see that the isolated unity of each individual self, 
 the separate, solitary consciousness which makes each hu- 
 man soul the bearer of its own burden of good or ill, though 
 
34 UNION WITH GOD. [seemon ii. 
 
 SO far true, is not the last word that is to be said in the ac- 
 count of the spiritual nature and life of man. However 
 important, it is only one side of the truth, and it is possible 
 to exaggerate its significance. There is a sense in which 
 this conception of a solitary, individualistic unity gives 
 place to a deeper and higher thought, the thought, viz., 
 that no man liveth to himself ; yea, that the true life of 
 self is never realized till the life of others streams into and 
 becomes a part of our own, and, last of all, until our shal- 
 low separate life is taken up into the universal and infinite 
 life, and we then begin to live truly when we live in the 
 life of God. 
 
 " I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made per- 
 fect in one." This is true, in the first place, of our rela- 
 tions to each other, and it is still more profoundly true of 
 our relations to God. It is true of each individual, in his 
 relations to other beings like himself, that his and their per- 
 fection is only in their unity. Union with other minds and 
 lives is not the suppression but the evolution and realization 
 of our own individual nature ; and the more nearly that 
 unity approaches to absolute identification, so much the 
 more intense and rich does our own individual life become. 
 Not more true is it that the heart has no separate life from 
 the brain, the nervous system, the other parts and members 
 of the organism, and that each becomes mere dead and 
 worthless matter if severed from the rest, than that a hu- 
 man spirit, assei'ting and standing by its own independent 
 identity, is dead, being alone. 
 
 Nay, some one perhaps will answer me, it is surely the 
 extravagance of rhetoric thus to exaggerate a mere physical 
 analogy. The member of an organism is not the whole, 
 and has no life apart from the rest ; but I have in myself 
 all the elements of humanity — intelligence, feeling, will, 
 conscience, irrespective of any other human being, and I 
 should still possess them if all other human beings should 
 
CAiKD.] UNION WITH GOD. 35 
 
 cease to exist. The true account of the matter is that, hav- 
 ing an individual identity, a nature of my own, self-con- 
 tained and complete, I choose to enter into relations with 
 other and equally independent members of the race. I an- 
 swer, in the first place, it is not true that you are or can be 
 thus independent. Whether you will or no, there is a sense 
 in v/hich other minds and wills are a part of you. Not 
 merely physically, but intellectually and morally, you are 
 not related to others only as you choose to relate yourself. 
 From the very dawn of your existence your spiritual nature 
 is steeped in the life of the past, in the spirit of the age and 
 society into which you are born, and in the unconscious in- 
 fluences that emanate from other minds. Hereditary ten- 
 dencies live in you and mold your opinions, feelings, be- 
 liefs, ways of thinking and acting, as really and involun- 
 tarily as ancestral features impress their stamp on your 
 countenance, or the health or disease of bygone generations 
 is transmitted to your bodily frame. Each soul does not 
 make a new start to shape its own independent career. For 
 good or ill, it is part of an organic whole. It can no more 
 shut itself off from tlie universal life than the most secluded 
 loch or bay can cease, in the rippling and receding of its 
 tiny waters, to respond to the great tidal movements of the 
 ocean. But I answer, in the second place, that if he could 
 conceive a thoroughly isolated individual, he would not be 
 truly man, but only a fragment of humanity. Suppose a 
 human being shut up from infancy in isolation from all 
 other human beings, of how much would his nature be 
 mutilated that is necessary to the very idea of humanity ! 
 One side of man's spiritual nature would remain practically 
 extinct. All that range of qualities which are possible only 
 in the various social relations, all those thoughts, feelings, 
 emotions, moral tendencies and activities which can exist 
 only in and through the existence of other men — affection, 
 sympathy, love, admiration, reverence, compassion, self-de- 
 
36 UmON WITH GOD. [sermon ti, 
 
 votion, patriotism, philanthropy — would never emerge into 
 existence in us, would remain at best only unrealized possi- 
 bilities within the spirit. To a human being thus reared in 
 a solitary world, the creation of a brother spirit would be 
 as the creation of a new soul within his breast ; in another 
 life a second self would start into being. And once more 
 on this point, I answer, that we grow in elevation and 
 nobleness of nature just in proportion as we merge our in- 
 dividual life and happiness in the life and happiness of 
 others. Love, friendship, philanthropy, self-sacrifice — what 
 is the true significance of such words as these ? What does 
 the lover or friend mean when he says that another's hap- 
 piness is dearer to him than his own ? What does the pa- 
 triot mean when, far more expressively than by words, in 
 the language of a life of self-devotion to country or cause, 
 giving up all thought of self and of his own particular 
 interests and enjoyments, he sacrifices time, thought, ease, 
 pleasure, ambition, all that most men hold dear, nay even 
 life itself, for the sake of others — what does he declare but 
 this, that the life and being of others has to him taken the 
 place of his own, that the good of others has become to him 
 not merely as his own, but more really his than his own ? 
 And yet by all this identification of self with the wider life 
 of mankind, has he suppressed or quelled his own true in- 
 dividuality ? Nay, rather, when we think of the widening 
 of thought and deepening of feeling, the expansion of the 
 whole moral nature, the pure unsought joy and blessedness 
 that crown a life devoted to impersonal and unselfish ends, 
 might we not put into the lips of such a one the declara- 
 tion, "I am dead to self, nevertheless I live"? And, if we 
 could only conceive a state of human society in which such 
 love and devotion should be universally reciprocated, in 
 which each member of it lived no longer to himself, but 
 found his life, his own deepest joy and satisfaction, in the 
 life and joy of others, might not this emphatically be de- 
 
CAiRD.] UNION WITH GOD. 37 
 
 scribed by such words as these : " I in them, and they in 
 me, that we may be made perfect in one " ? 
 
 Lastly, the religious man's life is a life lived not merely 
 in the life of others, but in the life of God. 
 
 Does religion mean belief in God as the "Almighty 
 Creator and Moral Governor of the world," and obedience 
 to his commands ? Is it a true and exhaustive account of 
 the religious life to say that it is a life governed by a sense 
 of responsibility to that Being who is the Omniscient and 
 Righteous Judge of man, and who will reward and punish 
 us according to our deeds ? No doubt this is much ; no 
 doubt to believe in any moral authority and submit to it, 
 to lead for any reason a virtuous life, is better than to fol- 
 low our unrestrained impulses and lead a life of immorality 
 and licentiousness. But something more and deeper than 
 this surely is implied in that relation to God which can be 
 described by such words as these : " I in them, and thou in 
 me." It is indeed a great thing to be a conscientious man. 
 We can not help respecting the man who methodically and 
 deliberately orders his life in obedience to duty and the 
 vv'ill of God. There is even a certain dignity in self-com- 
 mand, in a life of repressed inclinations, restrained passions, 
 and actions uniformly regulated by the dictates of reason 
 and conscience ; and our sense of the stern dignity of such 
 a life is, in one point of view, enhanced by the amount of 
 struggle and self-discipline which it costs to maintain it. 
 And yet, dignified and praiseworthy though such a life be, 
 it is still something far short of that ideal of religion, and 
 of the religious man's relation to God, which Cln-ist's words 
 set before us. If this were all, if this were tlie true ideal 
 of religion, there would be some ground for saying that it 
 represses the spiritual natui'e, and overbears the freedom and 
 individuality of man. To bow to any external authority, 
 even that of an Almighty Being, to yield up ray will to any 
 outward law, even though it be that of the Supreme Ruler 
 
38 UNION WITH GOD. [sermon ii. 
 
 and Lord — that may be right ; but what it means is, that I 
 am no longer free, that there is a part of my nature, that 
 there are desires, tendencies, inclinations, which are simply 
 suppressed in deference to an external power. It means 
 that Duty has still for me the aspect of a foreign thing, a 
 law or limit which I respect and obey, but that, even in 
 conforming myself to it, there is wdthin me that which is 
 not one with it, another self which is hindered and re- 
 pressed. 
 
 But, my brethren, it is the great idea which Christianity 
 has disclosed to us, that the law and will of God is no more 
 external to our true nature than it is to the nature of God 
 Himself, and that it is possible to reach, and that then only 
 have we attained to the perfection of our being when we 
 have reached, a spiritual state, in which the very mind and 
 will of God is no longer distinguishable from our own — in 
 which to think God's thoughts shall be to think our own 
 thoughts, and to do God's will shall be only another name 
 for doing our own. When eternal truth discloses itself to 
 any mind, it dissipates and destroys all mere individual 
 opinion, it subjugates thought with an absolute and irre- 
 sistible authority. Yes, but then only have I attained to 
 the true knowledge of Divine things when the voice that 
 speaks to me is at the same time that which speaks in me ; 
 and it is not two concurrent voices, that of a finite and an 
 infinite mind, that speak, but the one indivisible voice of 
 eternal reason sounding through the spirit of man. When 
 the law of duty and of righteousness utters itself to a hu- 
 man spirit, it is with an imperative authoiity to which hu- 
 man inclination and passion are constrained to bow. Yes, 
 but then only have I attained to that which deserves the 
 name of goodness, to that moral perfection of which Chi'ist 
 is the type, when law has passed into life, when duty has 
 ceased to be a thing of self-denial, and has become a kind 
 of self-indulgence, the expression of an irresistible inward 
 
CAIRO.] UNION WITH GOD. 39 
 
 impulse, the gratification of the deepest passion of the soul ; 
 then only have I reached the elevation of nature to which 
 Christ would exalt us, when I not only hearken to the voice 
 of duty, but when, listening to the inmost utterances of my 
 own spiritual nature, it is the very same accents I hear ; 
 when the dictates of conscience not merely echo, but blend 
 themselves indistinguishably with, the commands of the 
 living God ; and when, as I yield myself up to their sway, 
 it is not two wills, but the one will of infinite goodness that 
 rules and reigns within me. And so, it is just because our 
 deepest nature is in harmony, not with error but with truth, 
 not with evil but with good, not with the lust of the flesh, 
 and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, but with the 
 things invisible and eternal, with the very spirit of God 
 himself — it is just because of this, that to become partakers 
 of the Divine nature is to come to the perfect realization of 
 our own. Absolute identification with God, if we shall 
 ever attain to it, is not a state in which our individuality 
 shall be absorbed or annihilated, but in which our whole 
 conscious being shall leap forth to life and freedom. Even 
 here there are moments, few and far between, when the in- 
 finitude of our nature reveals itself, when the gross vesture 
 of carnality and finitude seems to fall aside, and to disclose 
 in higher and nobler natures a latent splendor of spiritual 
 nobleness nothing less than divine. When thought comes 
 with a rush of inspiration on the mind of the man of genius, 
 when the imagination glows with the ecstasy of creative 
 intuition, and burning words flow forth from lips touched 
 with prophetic fire ; when in moments congenial to spiritual 
 thought and feeling, infinite hopes and aspirations come 
 upon us, and bear us above the pettiness of life and the 
 littleness of our ordinary motives and ambitions, and every 
 ignoble thought is silenced and every baser passion quelled ; 
 when the call for some groat sacrifice has arisen, and we 
 feel it in us to respond to it, a great impulse comes upon 
 
40 UmON WITH GOD. [sermon ii. 
 
 us, a power mightier tlian of earth takes possession of us, 
 and the heroic deed is done : in these and such like ex- 
 periences there are premonitions of a larger, diviner life, 
 momentary outflashes of an element of boundless spiritual 
 power within this poor nature of ours. But here, alas ! 
 these are but rare and transient visitations. Here, in the 
 best of us, union with God is only intermittent and imper- 
 fect. In the atmosphere of worldly passion, amid the per- 
 turbations of selfishness, there is much to check the flow of 
 that electric current that unites the finite spirit to the in- 
 finite, much to arrest the free play of that vital energy that 
 binds the members of the spiritual body to each other and 
 to the Head, But the words of Christ point to a time 
 when every disturbing, dividing element shall pass away, 
 when every mind shall be the pure medium of the infinite 
 intelligence, every heart shall throb in unison with tlie in- 
 finite love, every human consciousness be possessed and 
 suffused by the spirit of the living God. And then shall 
 come at last the fulfillment of that prayer : " That they all 
 may be one ; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee. . . . 
 I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect 
 in one." 
 
cuNNiNGUAii. I HOMESPUN EELIGI0I7. 41 
 
 III. 
 
 HOMESPUIST RELIGION. 
 
 BY TOK RET. JOHN CCNNISGHAM, D. D., CKIEFF. 
 
 " I have glorified thee on the earth : I have finished the work 
 which thou gavest me to do. ... I liave manifested thy name unto 
 the men which thou gavest me out of the world." — John xvii, 4, 6. 
 
 This text carries us back to the time when the Son of 
 Man was about to finish his earthly career. He knew that 
 the priests, alarmed by his teaching, were plotting his de- 
 struction ; and He was already within the shadow of the 
 cross. He had spoken to his faithful followers his parting 
 words ; the language of comfort merged in the language 
 of prayer ; and from discoursing with his human brethren 
 He rose to communion with his heavenly Father. He had 
 come into the world, Heaven-sent, wuth a work to do, and 
 He had done it, and now, calmly contemplating his ap- 
 proaching death, He was able to say to his Father : " I have 
 glorified thee on the earth : I have finished the work which 
 thou gavest me to do." 
 
 What was this God-given work which Jesus could now 
 say He had finished ? I think we have an explanation of 
 this in the context : " I have glorified thee on the earth — I 
 have manifested thy name." These two things are not 
 greatly different. In manifesting God we glorify God : 
 and therefore we may safely say that the manifestation of 
 God was the work which Jesus felt had been given to him 
 to do, and which He had done. And what work more 
 
42 nOMESPUN RELIGION. [sermon m. 
 
 truly grand tban to make known God to a people who were 
 yet in great manner ignorant of him ! To give the world 
 one new glimpse of God were worthy of the noblest life 
 that was ever lived. 
 
 But how manifest God ? " The heavens declare the glory 
 of God ; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork." We 
 have but to look to the illimitable universe for a manifes- 
 tation — the grandest possible manifestation — of the power 
 and wisdom of God. But it is certain such a manifestation 
 was not enough for the reason of man. Amid all the mar- 
 vels of creation — at the base of mountains which pierced the 
 sky — on the shores of seas which no plummet could fathom 
 and no vision embrace — men were found worshiping their 
 own impure conceptions embodied in marble and stone, or 
 vainly rearing altars to a God they confessed to be unknown. 
 Nature, thousand-tongued though she be, had not let out the 
 great secret of God. 
 
 Did Christ, then, come into our world to manifest to us 
 God as He is ? Such a revelation had been impossible. In 
 one sense God ever must be unknown — unknowable. The 
 finite can not contain the infinite. Stretch our faculties as 
 we may, we can not comprehend the incomprehensible. We 
 can not take within our grasp that which is beyond all 
 grasp, the absolute — the imconditioned — the great Being 
 who inhabits eternity and fills all space with his presence. 
 When we make the endeavor, our feeble intellect, bafiled 
 and beat back, is compelled to acknowledge that it can 
 not " by searching find out God." Even in the future 
 world, where we have reason to believe our faculties will be 
 greatly enlarged, our knowledge of Deity will still be very 
 imperfect — I might almost say infinitely imperfect — as the 
 finite can never bear any relation at all to the infinite. 
 We may, and no doubt shall, know much which we do 
 not know now ; we may obtain glimpses of his glory far 
 brighter than any we have upon earth ; but still we shall 
 
CUNNINGHAM.] HOMESPUN BELIGION. 43 
 
 never know him as He is. Just as this fair world at pres- 
 ent hangs like a mighty curtain screening its Creator from 
 our view, yet showing his shadow projected upon it ; so in 
 eternity shall the God of Heaven be manifested only through 
 the golden glories of heaven, and refuse to be gazed upon 
 with unveiled eye, for He must ever dwell amid light inac- 
 cessible and full of glory ; no mortal eye hath seen him, or 
 can see him. 
 
 The work of Jesus, then, was not to manifest God in his 
 essence — in his infinitude ; for our nature was incapable of 
 such a manifestation. And while Philosophy may properly 
 occupy hei'self with such lofty themes, Religion is content 
 with a lower walk. The question then recurs, How did He 
 manifest God ? I answer, He made known the moral char- 
 acter of God. I am aware that when I thus speak I am 
 translating the language of heaven into the language of 
 earth. I am in some measure likening God to ourselves 
 when I speak of his moral character, but it is not given to 
 man otherwise to think of or otherwise to speak of the 
 heavenly and divine. God in some way must be brought 
 down to us, as we can not possibly lift ourselves up to God. 
 Now, it is certain that men had for long ages puzzled them- 
 selves in vain about the moral nature of the Deity, and 
 hence the contradictory attributes ascribed to their idol 
 gods. Sometimes they ascribed to these the purest benevo- 
 lence, sometimes the most malignant cruelty ; sometimes 
 they spoke of them as exemplars of justice and truth, some- 
 times they described them as perpetrating deeds so foul 
 that even modern vice would cry shame upon them. Now, 
 it is plain that, though we can not know God in all his infini- 
 tude, we may know whether He is kind or cruel — whether 
 He is pure or impure— whether He is spiritual and tran- 
 scends all sense, or is material, and may be shrined in a 
 temple and sculptured in stone. To make this known to 
 the world was the mission of Jesus. 
 
44 H03IESPUN RELIGION. [sermon hi. 
 
 Jesus Christ, in his own person and character, was a 
 manifestation of God. He was a visible image of Him who 
 is invisible. Every man is in a sense made in the likeness 
 of his heavenly Father, in so far as he is endowed with 
 Godlike faculties ; but that likeness is too often marred by 
 sin, and sometimes in the face of a fellow-creature w^e see 
 not the countenance of a God but the features of a devil. 
 But Jesus of Nazareth Avas altogether Divine. We must 
 trace his life to see this. 
 
 His life divides itself into two quite distinct portions — 
 his private life, which extends over thii'ty years, and his 
 public life, which probably did not last more than three 
 years. 
 
 Let us try and lift the veil which hangs over the thirty 
 years when He was slowly being matured for his future 
 work. We have several Gosj^els of the childhood of Jesus, 
 stuffed with silly legends as to how He resuscitated a dead 
 bird and carried water in a sieve, and ever and anon aston- 
 ished his playmates by his miracles ; but we know that 
 these Gospels are spurious — they carry their falsehood on 
 their face. There is nothing divine in such stories as these. 
 We can believe, however, that He was a marvelously pre- 
 cocious boy, and that notwithstanding his precocity He was 
 subject to his parents. We have reason, moreover, to be- 
 lieve that He was brought up in the bosom of a family — 
 with younger brothers and sisters ; for the legends of the 
 Roman Church on this subject are not only groundless, but 
 opposed to the Gospel narrative, and are designed to sub- 
 stitute false virginity and sour asceticism for home-bred 
 piety. Here, then, is the first stage in the life of Jesus — a 
 child among children. But are not the innocence and hap- 
 piness of childhood emblematical of the heavenly and di- 
 vine ? 
 
 He slowly grew from infancy to boyhood, from boyhood 
 to manhood, just as we do. And as He grew in stature 
 
ccNNiNGHAM.] HOMESPUN RELIGION. 45 
 
 He increased in wisdom and in all goodness. All his fel- 
 low-villagers knew him, and all loved him. There is reason 
 to believe that He worked at his father's trade of a carpen- 
 ter, and by making the rude implements of husbandry 
 helped to support the household. He must have lived just 
 such a life as any mechanic of the present day lives — mak- 
 ing allowance for the change of times. But He was hum- 
 ble, industrious, and content — content to do his daily work, 
 to eat his humble fare, to remain in obscurity, notwith- 
 standing that He must have been conscious of the great ca- 
 pabilities which were slumbering within him. And was 
 not Jesus of Nazareth as truly divine and as truly doing his 
 Father's work when He thus lived a village workman as 
 when He afterward blazed upon the world as a religious 
 reformer ? And are not these thirty years full of meaning 
 to those myriads, in all countries and in all times, who must 
 live in obscurity and earn their daily bread by their daily 
 toil ? This life at Nazareth, suffused with artisan religion, 
 the religion of industry, honesty, truthfulness, devotion, 
 had no trace of what is usually deemed heroical. No inci- 
 dent was worth i-ecording. It was the ordinary life of a 
 workingman. No doubt, on the one side it was altogether 
 divine, but on the other it was very human and very home- 
 ly. Thus the second stage in this great life was that of a 
 village workman. 
 
 When He was thirty years of age, this village carpenter 
 appeared before his countrymen as a prophet. He had heard 
 the heavenly call within him, and He had obeyed it. He 
 summoned his compeers to repentance, declaring that the 
 kingdom of God was at hand. He spoke to them of a high- 
 er religion than their ancestral one, which, though once full 
 of life, was now sapless and fruitless, and wellnigh dead. 
 The fierce light of public notoriety now shone upon him 
 wherever He went. But in many respects He lived the 
 same calm life which He had lived at Nazareth. There was 
 
46 HOMESPUN RELIGION. [serhox hi. 
 
 nothing overstrained, nothing sensational, in anything He 
 did. His four biographies have, of course, an Eastern col- 
 oring, but we clearly learn from them that He was not 
 proud and domineering, but meek and lowly — willing to 
 help all, heal all, save all. His whole life indeed was a life 
 of earnest, useful, unselfish work, but at the same time it was 
 not devoid of geniality and sociability, of private friend- 
 ships and homespun virtues. He had his friends, both 
 male and female, whom He loved and by whom He was 
 loved in return. He went to marriage-feasts and dinner- 
 parties, and had his quiet evenings with Lazarus and Martha 
 and Mary at Bethany. 
 
 How different this life from the legendary lives of the 
 saints, with their asceticism, their ecstasies, and their artifi- 
 cial piety ! How different from the mawkish biographies 
 of some modern divines, who Avould appear from tlieir dia- 
 ries to have lived far above the low level of the Ten Com- 
 mandments ! 
 
 In such a life was there not a manifestation of God ? 
 Without accepting the pantheistic idea that Deity is visible 
 everywhere and in all things — that He shines in the ruby, 
 lives in the plant, and awakens into consciousness in man — 
 we may safely say that in all human goodness there is a 
 manifestation of Divine goodness. 
 
 But Jesus of Nazareth, by his teaching as well as by his 
 life, did much to manifest God. He emphatically declared 
 his spirituality. The idea was not altogether new, but in 
 every religious system of the then world it was forgotten. 
 And, having declared that God was a spirit, He drew from 
 it the inevitable inference that all true worship must be 
 spiritual, and thus revolutionized the religions of the world. 
 All places and all times are alike holy. On Mount Gerizim or 
 Mount Moriah, in mosque or cathedral or meeting-house, by 
 the fireside or in the field, on Saturday or on Sunday, there 
 may be worship in spirit and in truth of the spiritual God. 
 
CUNNINGHAM.] IWMESPUX BELIGION. 47 
 
 Every aspiration after goodness is worsliip. Thus in the 
 words of Jesus as He sat thirsty and weary by Jacob's well, 
 and conversed with the Samaritan woman who had come 
 there with her pitcher to draw water, we get a view of 
 Divinity from which all the world might learn something ; 
 and we see no national Deity, no sectarian God, but the 
 universal Spirit, the common Father of all mankind. The 
 Gentile idea of God was grievously wrong. The Jewish 
 idea was in some respects almost as far from the truth ; but 
 the Jewish and the Gentile ideas wei'e alike corrected in the 
 sublime virtues and blessed lessons of Jesus the Saviour. 
 
 While Jesus was yet a boy He began his work, and 
 never afterward did He flag in it. Even when He was 
 working at his father's trade, as I have already said, He 
 was also working the work of God. And so, when death 
 overtook him, though it came early and came suddenly, it 
 did not find him with his work only half done. At the 
 early age of thirty-three, when most men are only begin- 
 ning to think seriously and work hard, his work was fin- 
 ished, and when He expired on the cross He could utter 
 the significant words, "It is finished." 
 
 Thus I have shown you how Jesus had a work to do, 
 and how He did it. But the most important — because the 
 most practical — part of my discourse remains, for I have 
 yet to show that every Christian, like the Christ, has a 
 God-given work to do. 
 
 It were well if every man realized the truth that he has 
 a work to do in this world — that he is not meant to be, that 
 he must not be, an idler in this busy hive ; and it were 
 better still if every man felt that his special work is as- 
 signed him by God. 
 
 The lots of men are very various. Some are born in the 
 lap of opulence, and grow up in the midst of luxury, and 
 have all their wishes anticipated and all their wants sup- 
 plied by the ministry of others, without any exertion on 
 
48 HOMESPUN BELIGION. [sermon hi. 
 
 their own part. Others are bred amid severe poverty, and 
 their horny hands tell how hard is the toil by which, day 
 after day, they gain their daily bread. But however dif- 
 ferent the spheres in which men move, and however wide 
 their callings and their culture, all are alike required to be 
 workmen for God. 
 
 Bear in mind that, whatever the work is you have to do, 
 that work is given you by God. Are you a shopman ? 
 Well, behind your counter sell your goods, and do your 
 work as if it were God's work. Are you a lawyer ? "Well, 
 work on in love to the great Lawgiver, defend the right 
 and defeat the wrong, remembering that your calling is 
 divine. Are you a laborer ? a plowman ? a weaver ? 
 Well, steadily use your shovel — merrily drive your horses 
 to the field — cheerily make your shuttle fly till the pattern 
 stands out before you in the web, remembering that you 
 are engaged in a Heaven-appointed task. You have a Mas- 
 ter in heaven. If it were so, would not all trickery disappear 
 from trade, all quirks and quibbles from the law, all eye- 
 service, all unfaithfulness, all discontent, from the ranks of 
 the laboring population ! Depend upon it we in general 
 take too low a view of our calling. We look upon our 
 labor as merely drudgery : well, it may be so, but it is a 
 divine drudgery. While we work we are doing good — 
 and everything that is good is Godlike. Such a conception 
 as this ennobles the meanest toil, and raises the i:)oorest 
 mechanic, the humblest tiller of the soil, into a servant of 
 Almighty God. 
 
 I am afraid that some men — even good men — are dis- 
 contented with their lot, and fancy that they are piously 
 and properly discontented. They think they could do God's 
 work better if their lot had been different. They think, 
 perhaps, that an occupation so menial as theirs can not pos- 
 sibly be the work of God. How can the loom, they may 
 say, be connected with religion ? How can a man by break- 
 
cuiramoiiAM.] HOMESPUN RELIGION. 49 
 
 ing stones on the roadside be promoting the glory of God ? 
 The poor man wishes he were rich, just that he might em- 
 ploy his wealth in the promotion of piety. My dear friend, 
 let me ask you, If liberality be the virtue of wealth, are 
 there no virtues peculiar to poverty ? and were it not better 
 for you to cultivate the virtues of the station which God 
 has assigned to you, than vainly to pine after another sta- 
 tion which never can be yours ? The pious layman perhaps 
 laments that his lips are sealed in silence, and that he can 
 not, as from the house-top, proclaim the praises of God ; 
 and accordingly he wishes he were a missionary, that he 
 might publish to darkened idolaters the glad tidings of 
 salvation ; or at least that he were a minister of the gospel, 
 that from the pulj^it he might fulminate the thunders of 
 Sinai, or speak in the softly persuasive whisj^ers that come 
 from Calvary. My good friend, you err, not knowing the 
 gospel. Your work is as divinely appointed as mine : and 
 your duty is to do it — to do it religiously and well. I know 
 that some people foolishly think that clergymen alone are 
 the servants of God — that their callingr alone is divine — 
 that they only, and such as they, promote the glory of God. 
 My friends, I tell you that I believe that many a poor 
 artisan who industriously and ungrumblingly plies his 
 trade, that he may honestly support a wife and family, or 
 that he may keep an aged parent from the parish, is more 
 effectually promoting God's glory than many a pompous 
 preacher of the Word. There is an eloquence in the pious 
 resignation, the contented looks, the busy fingers of the 
 one, which is not to be found in all the bombast of the 
 other ; and no man of this kind can calculate the influence 
 for goodness and for God which he may exercise on society. 
 I know nothing which has exercised a more pernicious 
 influence on religion than that unhappy divorce which has 
 been effected between religious duty and the e very-day 
 duties of life. When a mother is faithfully tending her 
 3 
 
50 HOMESPUN RELIGION. [sermon hi, 
 
 children, and making her hearthstone clean and her fire 
 burn bright, that everything may smile a welcome to her 
 weary husband when he returns from his work, it is never 
 dreamed that she is religiously employed. When a man 
 works hard during the day, and returns to his family in the 
 evening to make them all happy by his placid temper and 
 quiet jokes and dandlings on his knee, the world does not 
 think — perhaps he does not think himself — that there is 
 religion in anything so common as this. Religion is sup- 
 posed to stand aloof from such familiar scenes. But to 
 attend the church, to take the Sacrament, to sing a psalm, 
 to say a prayer, is religion. Now God help this poor sinful 
 world if religion consists only in these things and not also 
 in the other ! We have devotional feelings, and by all 
 means let us give them exercise and utterance ; but have 
 we not other feelings and other duties as certainly as these 
 assigned us by Heaven? Why should we count the one 
 religious and not also the other ? Is Religion to be shut up 
 in the church, and not allowed to visit the house ? Is she 
 to attend us only when we sit at the Communion-table, and 
 not also when we stand at our counter or sit at our desk ? 
 Why should we not think that everything we do is done 
 religiously if it be done well ? 
 
 I think I have known some people who have thus in- 
 troduced religion into their every-day life. In the station 
 in which they were, therein they abode with God. They 
 were ever so honest, so industrious, so cheerful, so unrepin- 
 ing, so courteous to man, and so devout to God, that you 
 could not but feel they were living that life of which oth- 
 ers were merely talking. They were indeed living epistles 
 of Christianity, known and read of all men. 
 
 Some men may think I have thus secularized religion. 
 On the contrary, I have wished to sanctify and make reli- 
 gious that which is usually regarded as secular. "That 
 which God hath cleansed call not thou common or unclean." 
 
cuNOTNGUAii.J HOMESPUN RELIGION. 51 
 
 I wish religion to tinge everything with its own divine hues : 
 and that whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, we 
 should do it to the glory of God. I wish every man to feel 
 that whatever work he has in hand he is therein God's work- 
 man. I wish that as the sun bathes with his light not 
 merely the mountain and the plain, but the tiniest plant 
 that grows in the crevice of the rock, that as he shines not 
 merely upon the carved cathedral, but upon the cottage 
 home, so it should be believed and felt that the Sun of 
 Righteousness illuminates with its soft radiance everything 
 it shines upon, giving it the highest of all consecrations. 
 
 The work of the Christian is not really different from 
 the work of the Christ. Every man has his mission, and it 
 is to manifest God. Moving in different spheres, with dif- 
 ferent tasks assigned us, we may be called to do our work 
 in different ways ; but still this is our work. Every man 
 should be, in his own person and character, like the Christ, 
 a manifestation of God. The more virtuous, the more ac- 
 tively benevolent, the more zealous for all good we become, 
 the more we manifest God. By discharging the duties of 
 our station, or by honestly struggling to rise to a higher 
 one, we perform our Heaven-allotted task, and so manifest 
 God. In short, by living like Jesus and dying like Jesus, 
 we manifest God. God, the all-good, shines out in every 
 good word that is spoken and in every good work that is 
 done. 
 
 Last of all, let me remind you that " life is short and 
 time is fleeting." " Whatsoever therefore your hand find- 
 eth to do, do it with all your might." Jesus of Nazareth, 
 according to tradition, died while still a young man, but 
 before he died he felt that his work was done. How few 
 at the early age of thirty-three have well begun their God- 
 given work ! How many with gray hairs on their heads 
 are carried to the grave with their work but half done ! I 
 believe it often forms one of the bitterest elements in the 
 
52 HOMESPUN RELIGION. [sermon m. 
 
 cup of death that life has been wasted and opportunities of 
 doing good allowed to slip past, and when the end comes 
 nothing either great or good has been accomplished. It is 
 a terrible thing to look back upon an utterly lost life. And 
 why should it be so with any of you ? All of you may live 
 useful lives. Many of you might live noble lives ; some of 
 you might leave your mark behind you, and live a second 
 life in the grateful memories of men. Remember there 
 may be true goodness, and even true greatness — a mani- 
 festation of all that is most divine — in the discharge of the 
 humblest duties, in the most obscure station, as well as in 
 playing a grand part with the eyes of the world fixed upon 
 you. How much to be envied the man who, when approach- 
 ing the close of a well-spent life, feels that he has at least 
 done some good in his day, and thus that he has so far ful- 
 filled his mission, even though he may not have altogether 
 finished the work which his Father had given him to do ! 
 
cnwrncHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 53 
 
 lY. 
 THE EELIGION OF LOVE. 
 
 BY THE RET. JOHN CUNNINGHAM, D. D., CRIEFF. 
 
 " The love of Christ constraineth us." — 2 Corinthians v, 14. 
 
 " The love of Christ constrains us " — to wliat? To live 
 not to ourselves, but to him who died for us. In other 
 words, constrained by the love of Christ, and taught by the 
 self-sacrifice of Christ, we ought to live unselfish lives. A 
 consecrated love should be our motive, a Christian life should 
 be our end. 
 
 I need not proclaim to you the old moral maxim, that 
 merit is to be sought for in men's motives rather than in 
 their outward acts ; and hence the necessity, when judging 
 of ourselves or others, of looking closely to the mainsprings 
 of their conduct. Thus, supposing we live uprightly, what 
 is it that leads us to do so ? Is it the fear of punishment, 
 or the hope of reward ? — is it the pure love of uprightness 
 itself, or the love of that holy Being who enjoins us to up- 
 rightness ? Supposing you say the former, then I ask, Can 
 there be any merit in motives so thoroughly selfish ? Sup- 
 posing you say the latter, then I ask. Is it possible for a crea- 
 ture constituted like man to love virtue for itself or God for 
 himself ? It is important for us as Christians to know these 
 things, for Christianity consists as much in a well-ordered 
 life as in an orthodox creed, perhaps more so. If it preaches 
 faith, it also insists on good Avorks. It involves a law to be 
 
54 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [sermon iv. 
 
 obeyed as well as a gospel to be believed ; and it seems to 
 set before us a variety of stimulants to obedience — the hope 
 of heaven, the fear of hell, and love in its multiform out- 
 goings both toward God and man. Well, let me take it for 
 granted that you are all living reputable lives, or, better 
 still, active, useful lives : it is so far good ; but behind 
 that there is the question. What are the feelings which 
 influence you to do so ? Are they the feelings which the 
 gospel sanctions and commends ? That is the question 
 which I wish to press home upon you. 
 
 Different men may do the same thing from very differ- 
 ent motives ; but I think that all human motives may be 
 reduced under two heads — the love of self or the love of 
 another. In other Avords, there may be a selfish virtu.e or 
 a disinterested virtue. Which of these does Christianity 
 teach and exact ? Let us examine a little more closely 
 these two great springs of human conduct. 
 
 I. We may do right from self-love. 
 
 In this sphere our selfishness may be so disguised as to 
 be hardly recognizable, even by ourselves. Indeed, so sub- 
 tile is selfishness that it enters into almost every feeling of 
 the mind, and in many cases it is only the very nicest analy- 
 sis that can detect its presence. We may therefore quite 
 honestly deceive ourselves and others in this matter, and 
 imagine we are acting quite disinterestedly, while in reality 
 our own interest lies at the bottom of our heart, and 
 prompts our behavior. The two great springs of action 
 traceable to self-love are the hope of rewai'd and the fear 
 of punishment. Every reflecting person will at once dis- 
 cern how much of our conduct takes its rise from one or 
 other of these two principles. Hope and fear are among 
 the most powerful feelings of our nature ; and, acting in 
 opposite directions, as they generally do, they lead to a be- 
 havior in Avhich the influence of both is to be seen, like 
 those compound motions, the result of equal and opposing 
 
CUNNINGHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 55 
 
 mechanical forces. How much do we do from the hope of 
 reward ! How much do we not-do from the dread of pun 
 ishment ! How steadily are we thus preserved in the 
 straight path of duty from the pressure on the one side and 
 the othe¥ of these two powers ! 
 
 I need hardly say that human laws are framed with a 
 reference to human fears, and that from this they derive 
 their effectiveness. To every law there is annexed a pen- 
 alty. The statute-book does not simply say, like the Deca- 
 logue, Thou shalt not steal ; but it says. If you do steal, 
 the detective will deliver you to the judge, and the judge to 
 the jailer, and he will cast you into prison, and you shall not 
 get out thence till you have paid the forfeit of your crime. 
 We know that if we rob our neighbor's house, or assault 
 our neighbor's person, or slander our neighbor's good name, 
 or in any other way disturb the peace of society and vio- 
 late the letter of the law, we must pay the penalty. The 
 fear thus inspired operates like a charm. It pervades the 
 whole mass of society : though unseen, it is felt ; and even 
 when scarcely consciously felt its influence is active, like 
 some of those subtile agencies in the atmosphei*e which sur- 
 rounds us, which tell upon ' our happiness, our health, and 
 our life, though we are altogether unaware of their exist- 
 ence. It makes the thief honest, the slanderer silent, the 
 turbulent peaceful. We are virtuous by compulsion. We 
 do good because we dare not do evil. 
 
 While the legislature docs not in general attach a posi- 
 tive promise of reward to obedience, yet society is so con- 
 stituted that respect for law almost always meets its reward 
 in some shape or other. Every man knows that the only 
 way to get on in the world, to receive employment, to ob- 
 tain promotion, to rise to a higher place in society, is to be 
 scrupulously observant of the requirements of justice and 
 truth. No one will employ or promote an unfaithful ser- 
 vant ; no one will trade with a dishonest dealer ; no one will 
 
56 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [sekmon iv. 
 
 trust the man whose character is bankrupt. It is impossible 
 to calculate how powerfully this operates upon the whole 
 community, reaching to every member of it, as the force 
 of gravitation reaches to every atom of the system. Every 
 man is, less or more, anxious to make headway in the world. 
 The workman is accordingly anxious for employment, the 
 shopkeeper for custom, the agent for consignments, and 
 each of these knows perfectly well that, if he in any way 
 forfeit the confidence of the public, yea, if but the breath 
 of suspicion blow upon his name, his chances are gone and 
 he is a doomed man. This, then, equally with the dread of 
 punishment, keeps men true to society, for they know that 
 to be true to society is to be true to themselves. 
 
 It may not be denied that many of the religious duties 
 are performed under the same pressure. We live in a coun- 
 try and an age in which great respect is paid to religion 
 and its observances. Notwithstanding the destructive specu- 
 lations with which the air is filled, religion has not yet lost 
 its hold on the popular mind ; and accordingly a man with 
 a character tinged, to some extent at any rate, with re- 
 ligion, all other things being equal, has a better chance of 
 employment and promotion than the man who is notoriously 
 irreligious. The truth is, we still like to see a man, with 
 his wife and family, seated every Sunday in his pew in the 
 church, cleanly clad, respectful, and devout. We are apt 
 to say. That is a decent and deserving man. On the other 
 hand, there is, in most quarters, a strong dislike of infidel 
 opinions and an irreligious life. Your serious thinking 
 people can not help suspecting the very honesty of the man 
 who never enters the church, never takes the Sacrament, 
 and otherwise openly disregards the duties and the decencies 
 of a Christian life. However well he looks, it is whispered 
 that he is a scoundrel in disguise ; being neglectful of re- 
 ligion, he may tamper with morality ; seeing he does not 
 fear God, he very probably will not regard man ; and there- 
 
ccNNmoHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 57 
 
 fore he is by no means to be taken by the hand and helped 
 on. He is rather to be left to rot in his irreligion. Opinion 
 rules the world, and this opinion, deep-rooted and wide- 
 spread, has an undoubted influence in creating an outward 
 respect at least for religious observances. Many are pious, 
 in short, or apparently so, just because piety is a passport 
 to respect. It requires only a very slight acquaintance with 
 society to know how much affected religion there is in the 
 world, and how powerfully even fashion tells upon the 
 Church. 
 
 It is probable that many of whom these things are true 
 are all unconscious of it themselves, and would be honestly 
 indignant if you charged them with anything like self-seek- 
 ing or hypocrisy. Few men act under the influence of only 
 one guiding principle, or one dominating passion. A mul- 
 titude of motives — sometimes apparently opposing motives 
 — combine to constitute and give color to conduct, and often, 
 under the motives which are uppermost in the mind, there 
 are others which lie buried alive in its lowest depths. As 
 in material, so in mental chemistry, there are startling com- 
 binations with still more startling results. But no man is 
 a good analyst of self. He does not care to cast his inmost 
 thoughts into any crucible. But, though we shut our eyes 
 to the fact, it is nevertheless true that selfishness, in one 
 shape or another, forms the basis of many of the virtues 
 and of much of the piety which pass current in the world. 
 We can only hope that it loses something of its native odi- 
 ousness when it passes into these new forms, as we can not 
 detect the presence of tar in the glorious dyes which are 
 extracted from it. 
 
 But is there no source of human conduct apart from 
 selfishness ? Are there no virtues wholly dissevered in root 
 and branch from the vices ? Is there no piety here below 
 but such as is adulterated with worldliness ? I think there 
 is, and this leads me — 
 
58 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [sermon iv. 
 
 II. To investigate the other mainspring of human con- 
 duct — disinterested love. 
 
 I think there can be no doubt that love — love not for 
 self but for others — is a powerful propeller and regulator 
 of human conduct. Some have indeed attempted to reduce 
 all love into selfishness. I can not at present examine these 
 theories ; suffice it to say, I do not believe them, and pro- 
 ceed upon the supposition, surely not a very unwarrantable 
 one, that there is such a thing as disinterested love in the 
 world. I care not whether it be instinctive or not ; it is 
 there, and, wherever it is, it is beautiful and good. I have 
 hitherto spoken of the hope of reward and the fear of pun- 
 ishment as two powerful incentives to a virtuous behavior. 
 But is there no other ? Can you think of no other ? For 
 instance, are none kept in the straight path of purity and 
 rectitude, because they know that any deviation from it 
 would grieve and distress those whom they love? Are 
 there not many who would rather do anything and suffer 
 anything than cause a pang to a parent's heart ? Are there 
 not some who have been kept back from crime just by this 
 consideration ? I think I do no wrong to society when I say 
 there are multitudes of young men, and young women too, 
 who have no great regard for virtue for its own sake, who 
 yet are virtuous, and that just because they would not by 
 any conduct of theirs sully the sanctities of the old home- 
 love. I believe that many a young man sent foi'th from the 
 parental roof to push his way in the world, amid the blan- 
 dishments of city life, has been kept sober, chaste, honest, 
 only by the constraining love of those whom he left behind. 
 God forbid that he should do anything that would make 
 a sister blush, or a father avoid the mention of his name ! 
 He could be dissipated and reckless, and content to ruin 
 himself, if it were not for this ; but this he could not bear. 
 And, my friends, if a member of a family has fallen, if a 
 son has brought a blot upon his honesty, or if a daughter 
 
CUNNINGHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 59 
 
 has brought suspicion on her honor, what is the most burn- 
 ing, maddening thought that fills her brain ? It is not so 
 much her own loss of innocence and peace as the thought 
 of brothers, sisters, parents disgraced and grieved by her 
 misconduct. What will they think ? How will they feel ? 
 HoAV will she be able to look them in the face ? It is the 
 love she bears to them, and the love she knows they bear to 
 her, that makes her anguish intolerable. Affection itself 
 becomes the avenger of her crime, and perhaps the very for- 
 giveness it exhibits, and the caresses it bestows, and the re- 
 newed sacrifices it is willing to make, render her soul's agony 
 all the more acute. Thus does love stand as the guardian 
 of morals, and, by its powerful constraints, effects that 
 which nothing else could — no, not the dread of punishment 
 nor the hope of reward. There are defiant natures which 
 despise these things, and yet are subject to the sweet influ- 
 ences of love. 
 
 The whole superstructure of society, it has been re- 
 marked, is based on the family circle. This is true in every 
 respect, and especially in this : that if you could destroy 
 those ties which are knit by love among the different mem- 
 bers of a household, you would thereby destroy all those 
 virtues upon which society depends. Take away the affec- 
 tion of the parent for the child, and of the child for the 
 parent, the regard of the brother for the sister, and of the 
 sister for the brother, and you will remove the strongest 
 barriers against crime, and the strongest incentives to a 
 praiseworthy conduct. Every child which a man has, it has 
 been said, is a pledge to the community for his good con- 
 duct. Nor can the son or the daughter easily throw them- 
 selves loose from the virtuous influence of family affections, 
 which they feel to be holy beyond all others. The old 
 home-feeling follows them wherever they go, flashing up 
 into brightness when they happen to be brought into scenes 
 or circumstances which contrast darkly with the peace and 
 
60 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [seemon iv. 
 
 purity of childhood. I believe it is well known that a large 
 proportion of our criminals, the pests of society, the tenants 
 of our jails, are waifs and strays, who have never known 
 domestic ties, who have none to care for them, none to vex 
 by their crimes. And there are strange chapters in the his- 
 tory of some criminals who had friends who loved them, 
 and whom they loved in return, times of relenting when 
 they thought of these, tears streaming from eyes little ac- 
 customed to weeping, fond memories of affections forfeited, 
 but never to be effaced, perhaps a resolution to return and 
 cry : " Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy 
 sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son : make 
 me as one of thy hired servants." 
 
 I have hitherto spoken of love chiefly as restraining 
 from evil ; but it is no less powerful in promoting what is 
 good. What would we not do for those whom we love ! 
 What burdens would we not bear ! What hardships would 
 we not undergo ; what sacrifices would we not cheerfully 
 make ! History not unfrequently traces the heroic to such 
 affections as this ; and, believe me, there is a humble hero- 
 ism in many homes, which finds no record in the historian's 
 page. There is sometimes a patient industry, continued till 
 " the head grows dizzy and the eyes grow dim," for the 
 support of an aged parent ; there is sometimes a faithful 
 watching for long months and years by the bedside of a 
 sickly sister ; and, if a visitor there, you may see how care- 
 fully the drooping head is pillowed, and how anxiously the 
 slow ebb of life is observed, and how gently every kind 
 office is performed, and how no word of complaint is spoken, 
 though there should be weary days and wakeful nights and 
 an aching brow. Sometimes, again, how bravely is the bat- 
 tle of life fought in the face of poverty and misfortune, 
 without flinching and without fear, with stout hands and a 
 sturdy heart — for there are little ones at home to be cared 
 for ; and what will the head and heart and hands of a par- 
 
cuKOTNGHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 61 
 
 ent not combine to do for these ! These are good deeds, 
 recorded in heaven though unnoticed on earth, and they 
 spring from the constraining power of love. -^ 
 
 Such is the influence of love in some of its many rami- 
 fications. It holds society together. It keeps the vicious 
 in check, and spurs on the virtuous to be more virtuous 
 still. It is more powerful for good than moralists and 
 preachers. It is more stringent in restraining from crime 
 than constabularies and penitentiaries. In truth, all the 
 constables and judges and jailers in the world could not 
 put down crime were it not for this, and the appeals of the 
 pulpit are effective only when they touch a chord already 
 existing in the human heart. Take away this principle, 
 and vice like a rank and noxious vegetation would soon 
 overspread society. It would be impossible to keep it down. 
 But by its gentle and scarcely perceptible constraints love 
 makes the bad good, and the good better ; and it is univer- 
 sally felt that they must be very bad indeed who can over- 
 leap all its fences and violate feelings so peculiarly sacred. 
 
 We have now seen there are two opposite springs of 
 human conduct : the one selfish, the other disinterested ; 
 the former embracing the hope of reward, and the fear of 
 punishment ; the latter resulting from the force of our love 
 for some one. It is easy to see which of these sources of 
 conduct is the purer, the nobler, the more divine ; and it 
 only remains for me now to inquire which of them it is 
 which the gospel enjoins. 
 
 With my text and other kindred sayings of Christ and^ 
 his apostles in view, we can not doubt that gospel morality 
 is based on love — on unselfish love — on the love which the 
 Christian has for the Christ. " If ye love me," said Jesus, 
 " keep my commandments." Here the great Master insists 
 that a true love for him should lead to a Christian life. 4 
 " The love of Christ constraineth us," says St. Paul in the 
 text. This may refer either to the love which we have for 
 
62 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [sermon iv. 
 
 Christ or the love He bears to us, or to both ; and the ef- 
 fect of this reciprocal affection is to constrain us to live an 
 unselfish, self-sacrificing life such as Christ lived ; it hems 
 us in and urges us on, so that we can not but do as He did. 
 
 But it may be said. Other motives besides this are often 
 set before us in the Bible. Both heaven and hell loom in 
 many of its pages, and are pressed upon us by the preacher 
 as motives to holy living ; and salvation with all that it 
 implies is frequently spoken of as a reward. All this is 
 true. It is true, heaven is the appointed home of the holy, 
 and hell even upon earth the natural doom of the unholy ; 
 and the belief of this must have its influence with men sub- 
 ject to hope and fear. In fact, these are the only things 
 which have weight with some men. Nothing but the thun- 
 derings and lightnings of Sinai could awe the nomad tribes 
 of Israel into subjection. Nothing but the pains of purga- 
 tory or the horrors of hell has influence still with semi- 
 savages. But this is not the evangel of Jesus ! And there 
 is something good in the way in which your high Evangel- 
 ical states the truth. "We keep God's commandments," 
 be says, " not that we may obtain salvation, but because we 
 have obtained it ; we lead a Christian life, not that we may 
 be saved, but because we are saved ! Mary was forgiven 
 much, and therefore she loved much ! " 
 
 Much has been said and written regarding the pure love 
 of God. It is a doctrine which leads directly to mysticism, 
 but at the same time it is a doctrine which has had its con- 
 fessors and martyrs, and the pious Fenelon put forth all his 
 persuasive eloquence in its defense. Now, whatever we 
 may think of the possibility of loving God — the spiritual — 
 the absolute — for his own sake, and altogether apart from 
 those hopes and promises which incline the heart to love, 
 there need be no doubt in regard to the Divine man Jesus 
 of Nazareth. If it be possible to love humanity in its high- 
 est form, we must love it as it is enshrined here. For dur- 
 
CUNNINGHAM.] THE RELIGION OF LOVE. G3 
 
 ing these eighteen centuries the image of Jesus, as first 
 limned out in the Gospels, has so grown in the Christian 
 consciousness that it is now the ideal of all possible perfec- 
 tion. To love Jesus is therefore to love the incarnation of 
 all that is Godlike and good. Myriads can testify how 
 they do love him with a love stronger than death. 
 
 Here, then, we have a powerful principle introduced into 
 the Christian heart. I have already spoken of the power of 
 parental and other human love in restraining from wicked- 
 ness and stimulating to industry, honesty, and honor. How 
 much more powerful this Divine love, this love of the self- 
 denying Jesus ! Every Christian knows it, feels it, can tell 
 how it constrains him to live not to himself, but to him who 
 loved him and died for him. Moses with his Decalogue 
 could never accomplish what has thus been achieved by 
 Christ and his Cross. The bonds of the old morality coukl, 
 like green withes, be easily broken, but the ties of this new 
 morality are strong, just because they are tender. 
 
 As this gospel morality is stronger in its sanctions, so is 
 it purer in its motives, than any other. All other sources 
 of conduct are less or more interested, selfish, and sordid. 
 If we avoid sin merely because we dre'ad its punishment, if 
 we cultivate piety merely because we desire its rewards, our 
 behavior comes of unmitigated selfishness. We are utili- 
 tarians and economists, not Christians. But when the love 
 of the Divine Jesus takes possession of our soul, when we 
 love him and feel that He loves us with more than a woman's 
 love, we are inflamed with a desire to imitate him in all 
 things, and to make his all-perfect life the model for our 
 own. It is thus the Christian saint rises infinitely higher 
 than the patriarch or prophet of Old Testament times. 
 Through the force of Christ's living example he has risen 
 to a loftier plateau on the hill of holiness than was ever 
 reached by the best of them. It is upon no calculation of 
 the consequences of his conduct that he acts ; it is from no 
 
64 THE RELIGION OF LOVE. [sermon iv. 
 
 balancing of profit and loss ; he attemj^ts not to make sal- 
 vation a thing of barter, giving so much holiness, getting 
 so much happiness, but he is pure, pious, devoted to God's 
 service, submissive to God's will, because, filled with rever- 
 ence for the human ideal of all that is Divine, he strives to 
 imitate it. A lofty spiritual eminence to rise to, but not 
 too high for Christian aspiration ! 
 
 But still further, as the motive to this gospel morality is 
 the purest possible, so is it less productive of pain and more 
 productive of happiness than any other motive of obedience 
 which could be presented to us, No man obeys so cheerfully 
 as he who does it from love. A forced obedience is always 
 a painful obedience. In France, after the great Revolution, 
 there was a period known as the Reign of Terror, when the 
 guillotine daily dripped with blood — the blood of the best 
 and bravest and most beautiful in the land. The men in 
 power were monsters of iniquity, and many of the laws 
 they enacted were violations of all justice ; but these men 
 were outwardly honored and their laws most scrupulously 
 obeyed. Not a whisper was heard throughout all Paris 
 — the tumultuous city — against either lawgivers or laws. 
 Every citizen seemed more anxious than another to obey 
 to the very letter, and to omit nothing in word or deed to 
 show his perfect submission to the ruling powers. But all 
 this while men's hearts Avere frozen with horror ; the gaunt 
 guillotine threw its shadow before them wherever they 
 went ; and when friends met they could only silently shake 
 hands and part, for they dared not say what they felt, and 
 they knew not if they might meet again. How different from 
 this a community in which the laws ai'e obeyed from a sense 
 of their justice, and in which, accordingly, every face is 
 radiant with joy, and in which neighbors and friends can 
 freely interchange their thoughts without dread of a spy ! 
 Here, then, we have the reign of love contrasted with the 
 reign of terror. 
 
ccNNiNGHAM.J THE RELIGION OF LOVE. 55 
 
 It is from the same circumstance that the love-allotted 
 task is more lightsome than the same amount of labor ex- 
 acted by fear. God knows how much is done for love, and 
 how pleasantly. 
 
 So it is in the Gospel kingdom. The Christian lives not 
 under a reign of terror, but of love. He obeys not from 
 fear, but from affection. He does not tremble like a slave, 
 but he has the free, happy look of a child. And the duties of 
 Christianity are not extorted from an aroused and alarmed 
 conscience, they are the free-will offerings of a loving heart. 
 We are willing workers for Christ, but labor in his ser- 
 vice is felt to be no drudgery, for love lightens the heaviest 
 burdens. 
 
 It is thus that the love of Christ constrains us. In other 
 words, love to Christ, as the highest ideal of human perfec- 
 tion, the point where the human and Divine merge into one, 
 is the basis of our Christian morality. That motive is the 
 strongest that could be presented to us — the purest, the hap- 
 piest. With such a love in our hearts we can not but live 
 earnest, useful, holy lives, thus adorning the doctrine of our 
 God and Saviour. May this love be shed abroad in your 
 hearts! May it extend its influence over your lives ! May 
 it constrain you to devote yourselves soul and body to God's 
 service ! It was this love that moved St. John to write so 
 touchingly, and St. Paul to labor so unweariedly, and St. 
 Stephen to die so serenely ; it has been the same love which 
 in all ages has made the true Christian exhibit upon earth 
 the beauties of a heavenly holiness, and which in the ages 
 to come will subdue all hearts to virtue by subduing them 
 to Christ. 
 
66 LAW AND MIRACLE. [sekmon v. 
 
 V. 
 
 LAW AKD MIEACLE. 
 
 BY THE RET. D. J. FERGUSON, B. D., STRATHBLANE. 
 
 '' There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of 
 the Jews : The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, 
 Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God : for no 
 man can do these mii-acles that thou doest, except God be with him. 
 Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee. 
 Except a man be born again, he can not see the kingdom of God." 
 — John iii, 1-3. 
 
 When we read these words, our first impression is that 
 our Lord's reply has little or no bearing upon the address 
 of Nicodemus. The speakers appear to be moving upon 
 lines that are quite apart : they hardly seem to be carrying 
 on a conversation at all, but rather to be uttering abrupt 
 and disconnected thoughts. There are many passages of 
 Holy Scripture, however, where the sequence of thought is 
 real, though it may not be obvious. The connecting links 
 may not obtrude themselves upon our notice, but we are 
 not therefore to conclude that they do not exist. The pres- 
 ent is a case in point. For the question implicitly before 
 the minds of the speakers is, " What is the true criterion of 
 a revelation of God ? " In the one case, we have the an- 
 swer that suggests itself to a nature of immature spiritual 
 growth ; in the other, the answer of perfect insight. Nico- 
 demiis based his belief upon the external fact of miracle : 
 our Lord taught him that he must build upon a surer foun- 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. giy 
 
 dation ; not upon outward, but upon inward facts, upon the 
 truth of the impulse given to the inner life. 
 
 This, as it was an important lesson for the early converts 
 from Judaism, remains an important lesson for the Church 
 of to-day. According as the principle is accepted or rejected, 
 our faith in Christ will have an intrinsic strength, or be in- 
 secure and dependent upon external support. It will either 
 be able to overcome the world, and adapt itself to the con- 
 ditions of modern culture, or it will be void of self-reliance, 
 and, instead of looking to the future with confidence, its 
 deepest yearnings will go out toward the " ages of faith " 
 in the buried centuries. 
 
 That Nicoderaus in his thoughts about Divine thincrs 
 should have laid exclusive stress upon miracle and sign need 
 not surprise us. This is no more than to say he was a Jew. 
 "With many great qualities, the Jewish mind was essentially 
 materialistic in its leanings. The nation as a whole were 
 true sons of earth, devoted to its interests, placing their 
 highest happiness in its successes, and in its misfortunes 
 finding their sorest punishments. Prosperity was " the bless- 
 ing of the Old Testament," just because it was the blessing 
 they were best able to appreciate, and their religion had 
 ever the aspect of a bargain between them and Jehovah. 
 No doubt there arose among them Psalmists and Prophets 
 of a very different stamp : men whose words have lost 
 nothing of power and fervor, but find a quicker response 
 in the mind of the Christian than in the mind of the pre- 
 Christian age. But these were exceptionally gifted souls, 
 raised by the force and originality of their religious genius 
 far above their brethren. The masses were unspiritual in 
 the last degree, and the religion of the Old Testament, 
 based as it was upon signs and wonders, was the natural 
 outcome of a disposition that craved external guarantees 
 for spiritual truth. 
 
 In the time of Christ, this habit of thought was espe- 
 
68 LAW AND MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 cially remarkable, and the circumstances of the hour helped 
 to confirm it. Not only had the minds of that generation 
 been formed under the influence of the national myths and 
 traditions, but a new and powerful element had been intro- 
 duced in the religious speculations which were the fruit of 
 contact with Oriental and Western thought. They were, 
 besides, chafing under the Roman yoke, and the belief was 
 widespread that a great catastrophe was at hand to usher 
 in the Messianic kingdom. Take all this into account, and 
 it is evident that under such conditions the Jewish craving 
 for signs was not likely to decrease, but to become more 
 feverish and intense. The contemporaries of our Lord, in- 
 deed, seem not to have been able to conceive of any other 
 test of truth. " What sign showest thou ? " was the cry on 
 every side, and the weakness of their favorite proof was 
 manifested in their continued unbelief, Nicodemus differed 
 from his countrymen, not in that he could dispense with 
 signs, but in his willingness to accept them as credentials 
 of our Saviour's message. 
 
 The contrast between our Lord's method of teaching 
 and the spirit of the Jews is very striking. Christianity is 
 based not upon the outward, but upon the inward. It 
 makes light of physical portents, but seeks to quicken spir- 
 itual perceptions. Its moving principle is not a mere sense 
 of wonder, or of prostration before infinite Power, but that 
 trust in God which satisfies the cravings and stills the un- 
 rest of the soul. And hence our Lord laid little stress upon 
 miracle and sign. He was habitually chary of their use, 
 and over and over again rebuked the curiosity which so 
 eagerly asked for them. According to the narrative, they 
 became in his hands means of subjecting the material to the 
 spiritual, and of leading the sensuous-minded multitude 
 away from the seen and temporal to the hidden sources of 
 Divine life in the soul. He emphatically pronounced his 
 blessing, not upon the faith born of sight, but upon the 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 69 
 
 faith which is the " evidence of things not seen " ; and 
 showed men that in their own natures there was a Holy of 
 Holies, in which the voice of God might be heard giving an 
 oracle of truth. The whole of his teaching took a nobler 
 range than that of the law ; and, in breaking away from the 
 material associations of the older faith, He opened up to 
 his followers a new and fairer region of spiritual life and 
 thought. 
 
 It is well for us, for the Church at large, that this is so. 
 For the whole question is here involved, whether Christian- 
 ity is capable of becoming the universal religion or not. Its 
 elasticity and perennial freshness belong to its spiritual na- 
 ture. From this source arises its power of statedly intro- 
 ducing reforms, and of subordinating or casting out alto- 
 gether matters of doctrine and tradition, which are no 
 longer necessary to the system ; and to this, therefore, we 
 owe it, that the religion of Christ is not to-day a faint echo 
 of the past, but the greatest living influence among men. 
 Indeed, it is impossible to see how faith could otherwise 
 overcome the world. The life of Christ, left further and 
 further behind us, would dwindle into a mere speck upon 
 the horizon, and be swallowed up in the haze of distance. 
 Faith in him would become the mark of a small and con- 
 stantly diminishing band ; it would altogether lose its pow- 
 er of expansion ; and his religion, instead of rolling onward 
 like a river fed from a thousand tributaries, would resemble 
 a torrent which, however bounteous its source, receives no 
 new supplies, and at length exhausts itself in the sand. 
 
 Christianity, then, is no rigid system of dogma, or of 
 ecclesiastical forms, elaborated long ago, and incapable of 
 growth or change. It is rather a living organism, drawing 
 nourishment to itself from every side, and affected by the 
 life-pulsations of every age. Look, for instance, what a 
 vast difference between Christianity in the first and in the 
 nineteenth century ! Then, it was struggling for existence 
 
70 ^-4TF AAW MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 between Judaism on the one hand and Paganism on the 
 other : now, it has conquered its position, and extorts rec- 
 ognition at least from its bitterest opponents. It has rev- 
 olutionized the whole structure of society, and formed man- 
 ners and customs and habits of thought. It has taught us 
 that humanity, made in the image of God, is sacred, and 
 that, belonging to man as the creature of God, there are in- 
 alienable rights which may not be trampled upon. It has 
 given a new significance to the idea of duty. This it has 
 taken out of the exclusive possession of the philosophic, and 
 the resolute by nature, and bestowed upon the humblest 
 soul whose hard lot is cheered by heavenward aspiration, 
 and borne unmurmuringly for the sake of Christ. It has 
 vivified and ennobled religious faith by giving a revelation 
 of God at once human and removed from the weakness of 
 humanity, and has thus shed a sanctifying influence over 
 the intellect and heart of man. It has fused together the 
 various elements of the body politic, and made a true na- 
 tional life a reality ; it has trained and strengthened public 
 opinion, marked out the course of legislation, and defined 
 the limits of government. It is, in short, the atmosphere in 
 which we live and breathe, and of which, unconsciously to 
 ourselves, we sustain the pressure. " It is without us, and 
 we are v/ithin its circle : we do not become Christians, we 
 are so from our birth." 
 
 The importance of the change must not be overlooked, 
 seeing it affects not merely the form, but the matter also, of 
 our belief. For the law of action and reaction is as true in 
 the mental as in the physical world, and, in taking up into 
 itself the whole circle of life, Christianity can not but feel 
 the influence of its changed conditions. It has to enter new 
 fields of thought and knowledge, and adapt itself to the 
 complex relations, and tendencies, and wants of the modern 
 world. And as each generation necessarily holds its faith 
 as the reflection of its own spiritual consciousness, its creed 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 71 
 
 must no less be stated (or, what comes to the same thing, if 
 not stated, interpreted) in its own forms of thought. Its 
 religion, in a word, is molded by that very real though im- 
 palpable power which we call the " spirit of the age " ; and 
 men are not only intellectually and morally, but spiritually 
 also, the children of their time. 
 
 Within the Church itself, therefore, we have to recog- 
 nize an historical process by which the faith characteristic of 
 each successive age is determined. A current of life is thus 
 introduced to prevent stagnation and decay ; and the ten- 
 dency makes itself more and more felt to distinguish be- 
 tween what is essential in Christianity and what is of pass- 
 ing value. The truths of faith are seen apart from the 
 special form and local coloring which gave them vividness 
 to the Jewish mind, and, while the temporary falls away, 
 that which is of permanent significance remains. We may, 
 indeed, shut our eyes to the fact that the progress of his- 
 tory is a revelation of God, and refuse to acknowledge 
 either its right or its power to modify the New Testament 
 revelation. If we worship an infallible book and conceive 
 of revelation as the publication, once for all, of a definite 
 scheme of dogma, we shall naturally cling to the past, and 
 forget that there is anything divine in the world of to-day. 
 The apostolic age will alone seem sacred, and a secular era 
 date from its close. But, if, inspired by a worthier faith, 
 we believe in a living presence of God in every age, the 
 passing years will only bring into stronger relief the prin- 
 ciples of our Saviour's teaching. In the history of the 
 Church we shall see the process by which the spirit of 
 Christ manifests itself and leads her into truth and freedom. 
 The changes which must come in the presentment of the 
 faith will then be to us the signs, not of decay but of health, 
 not the forerunners of dissolution but the normal action and 
 the proof of life. They will teach us how important and 
 necessary it is to distinguish between the letter and the 
 
72 LA W AND MIR A CLE. [sermon v. 
 
 spirit, between form and essence, between what is local and 
 temporary and what is universal and eternal. 
 
 Of the effects produced by this process of sifting and 
 winnowing which goes on in history, we have a good ex- 
 ample in the doctrine of miracle. In our own day, that 
 doctrine does not occupy the prominent position it for- 
 merly had. It has fallen into the background, and lost its 
 apologetic value ; but, at the same time, its actual relations 
 to the circle of Christian truth have been made clear. In 
 the course of last century, on the contrary, the sharpest 
 attacks which Christianity had to sustain were directed 
 against this side. The contest raged round the credibility 
 or incredibility of miracle, as if the whole of revelation 
 depended upon the issue. In reality, however, no vital 
 point of revelation was endangered. It was an affair of 
 outposts altogether, and the work so energetically as- 
 saulted and defended had little importance for the citadel 
 in the rear. Neither the philosopher who argued against, 
 nor the divine who contended for miracle, was dealing with 
 the essence of Christianity, and the complete triumph of 
 either would have made little change. At the worst, a 
 dogma of the Church would have been overthrown : but 
 the dogmas of the Church and the religion of Christ are 
 not synonymous terms. 
 
 Now, to make belief in Christ depend, in any degree, 
 upon the fact that He wrought miracles, is to build upon 
 the sand. It is to go back to the old Jewish belief of Nico- 
 demus in the text, and to incur the implied rebuke in our 
 Lord's answer to him. For by no act of power, be it ever 
 so great, can we prove a spiritual truth. In the ordinary 
 business of life, we should not point to a physical fact, or 
 series of facts, as an evidence of a truth of consciousness. 
 But, when we enter upon matters connected with religion, 
 it is more difficult to preserve the candor of mind which 
 elsewhere stands us in good stead. A false reverence is 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 73 
 
 only too apt to blind us, though the.prmciple is as strong 
 in the one case as in the other. Considered in themselves, 
 miracles are signs of the possession of power ; but whether 
 that power springs from a deeper insight than common into 
 the constitution of nature, or is, strictly speaking, super- 
 natural, they do not tell us. Were they to be performed 
 to-day, our conclusion would be, not that a divine being 
 had aj^peared among us, but simply that events so startling 
 challenged the closest attention and investigation ; of the 
 character of the worker himself we should judge from 
 other and independent sources. And, when we argue that 
 the New Testament miracles prove the divine origin of 
 Christianity, we are going upon the assumption that the 
 possession of power over nature is the constant index of 
 spiritual truth and wisdom — an assumption demanded by 
 no necessity of thought, and contradicted by every-day 
 experience of men's actions — an assumption, moreover, at 
 variance with the teaching of Scripture itself, that a sign 
 may be given, and yet the message be false. In other 
 words, froin premises that belong to the material world, we 
 are attempting to draw a conclusion regarding the spiritual. 
 There is, indeed, one supposition upon which a sign given 
 in nature will be the evidence for a spiritual truth. The 
 day may come when the old dualism of matter and spirit 
 shall be resolved, and the interaction and interdependence 
 of what we now call material and spiritual forces be made 
 clear to thought. But in the mean time, while the gulf is 
 still unbridged, we can not pass from one side to the other. 
 Until the junction is made, we must frankly recognize the 
 secondary place of miracle in the Christian system. Grant- 
 ed the historical accuracy of the narratives in the Gospels, 
 even then the argument from miracle holds, with regard 
 to our Loi'd, a position similar to that which the argument 
 from design holds with regard to the being of a God. The 
 latter does not prove God's existence ; it only proves the 
 4 
 
74 -t^^ ^^^^ MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 existence of a great artist working upon materials ready- 
 to his hand. And, in like manner, the former only proves 
 that Christ was endowed with special power. About his 
 doctrine it is silent. 
 
 If, however, in the development of history, the eviden- 
 tial power of miracles has grown weak, it need not follow 
 that the belief is to be thrown overboard, and the narra- 
 tives deleted from the Gospels. The belief has still its 
 place in the order of Christian thought : it continues to be 
 of use, though in a different way, and in a more private 
 sphere. We may not, as we have said, base our faith in 
 Christ upon our reception of his miracles : conversely, how- 
 ever, we may base our reception of his miracles upon our 
 faith in Christ. The miracle is not the guarantee for the 
 revelation, but the revelation for the miracle. Such a 
 change in the point of view necessarily brings us into a 
 new circle of relations. The course taken by reflection lies 
 away altogether from dispute and argument, and inclines 
 toward the calm of meditation. Let the revelation be ac- 
 cepted, and the miracles fall into their true position, and 
 speak to many minds, whose conception of Christ they 
 enlarge and strengthen. Our Lord is then seen to be the 
 revealer of the Father, not only in redeeming men from sin, 
 but also in manifesting the Divine control over the uni- 
 verse. He not only speaks to the hearts and consciences 
 of men, but also discovers to them their true relations to 
 nature. And thus the miracles become the insignia of his 
 office, and open up to us the secret of the external world. 
 They tell us that the laws by which the universe is gov- 
 erned and the physical conditions in which we live spring 
 from a hidden spiritual source, and are upheld by a spiritual 
 presence. The constitution of the world is, they say, the 
 expression of the beneficence of God, who has imprinted 
 upon it his own goodness, and intended it to forward the 
 happiness and well-being of his creatures. That his laws in 
 
FERGOSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 75 
 
 their action do not always tend toward happiness, that on 
 the contrary they often produce suffering and misery, is no 
 doubt true. At times they seem to work against and not 
 in favor of man. There is much apparent waste and ruth- 
 less cruelty which we can not explain. We have no key to 
 the problem ; and there are hours in which we seem to be 
 the puppets of a remorseless Fate, rather than the creatures 
 of a heavenly Father. Of the facts which may be brought 
 forward in support of this gloomy imagination, some are 
 invincibly shrouded in mystery, and there we must be con- 
 tent to leave them. They belong to the secret things of 
 God. The tower of Siloara falls upon men not specially 
 guilty ; good and bad alike go down in the shipwreck ; the 
 pure and innocent are the helpless victims of disease. Be- 
 fore these and such like facts we can only bow our heads 
 in silence. There are other cases, however, in which sin en- 
 ters as a factor into the account ; and here the miracles of 
 Christ do vindicate God's goodness. They proclaim that 
 in him power and love exist in union, and are the founda- 
 tion of the system in which we have been placed, through 
 which He seeks, and in obedience to which alone we attain, 
 what is for us highest and best. To run counter to his 
 will embodied in his laws is to plunge into suffering ; yet 
 the inevitable connection between disobedience and suffer- 
 ing is itself an expression of his loving care, his call to us 
 to return, his effort to overcome our obstinacy and self-will. 
 Refuse as we may, and as long as we may, to hear, He 
 changes not, and Nature in her calm uniformity bears the 
 stamp of his fixed, unswerving purpose. We need no 
 longer, therefore, stand in awe and helplessness before her, 
 as with relentless step she moves on to crush rebellion ; 
 pitiless she may seem, deaf to all entreaty, and hard to 
 exact the uttermost farthing of her due : but the miracles 
 declare that the stern countenance hides a wise and lovincr 
 heart, and, in showing us a spiritual aim in her processes, 
 
76 LAW AND MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 bespeak for her lessons a more reverent attention. They 
 teach us that the outer world is the " visible garment " of 
 Deity, and our own frames the temples of his Spirit. They 
 speak of a God not afar off, but near at hand ; no yawning 
 chasm divides him from his universe, his sustaining presence 
 dwells in it, his righteous will controls it, his providence 
 shapes its destiny. The miracles of our Lord, in displaying 
 the moral basis of the whole creation, help us to realize 
 more vividly the fullness of his revelation of God, to feel 
 that we dwell in our Father's house, and with devout hearts 
 to read, as expressed in material forms, the parables with 
 which we are surrounded. 
 
 A belief like this is not to be accounted barren. Upon 
 its own merits, it is fully entitled to take its place in the 
 Christian scheme. But there is another aspect of the sub- 
 ject to be considered. Belief in the New Testament mir- 
 acles, we have said, may rest upon belief in the revela- 
 tion of Christ. We can not, however, say on the other 
 hand, that belief in the revelation necessarily brings with 
 it a belief in miracle. It can not be denied that, in our 
 own day, there are many, who, calling themselves by the 
 name of Christ, shrink, avowedly or tacitly, from this par- 
 ticular dogma. They feel that the miraculous narratives 
 of the Gospels, instead of being a help, are a burden to 
 faith, and may therefore be quietly dropped out of sight. 
 The impulse and support which, in their own spiritual life, 
 they receive from Christianity, are not rendered stronger 
 and more trustworthy by the thought that its first appear- 
 ance was accompanied by signs and wonders. Its intrin- 
 sic value can not be increased by any amount of miracles, 
 and in this confidence they rest satisfied. 
 
 The influences which produce this reserve and unwilling- 
 ness of mind are not so much to be ti-aced to this or that 
 definite source, as to be felt diffused throughout the men- 
 tal atmosphere of the day. The silent changes of history 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 77 
 
 have brought us into a new " climate of opinion," in which 
 an easy and uncritical assent to dogma of any kind docs 
 not flourish so luxuriantly as in former ages, and which 
 to the belief in miracle is especially unfavorable. Many 
 movements of thought (which it is of course impossible to 
 trace herein detail), in science, and philosophy, and religion 
 itself, have combined to this result. Still there are three 
 which have been so important as to demand a passing 
 notice : 
 
 I. First of all, there is the scientific conception of the 
 universality of Law. This may truly be said to be the 
 revelation of our own age, not in the sense that it was 
 unknown to our predecessors, but that in the present day 
 the conception has been so extended and generalized as to 
 dwarf its former proportions. It has passed out of the 
 laboratory of science into the common possession of men, 
 and is now one of the great truths so firmly established 
 that they become truisms. We never stop to reason about 
 them, and, were any one rash enough to call them in ques- 
 tion, we should not give him even a patient hearing. More- 
 over, the idea of Law is not to be confined to the material 
 world with its indestructible treasury of force. It must be 
 carried over into the world of mind, and be seen at work 
 there also, not indeed with the rigidity of physical law, but 
 within the large limits which freedom of thought and action 
 demands. It is to be traced in the advance of civilization, 
 in the development of history, in the growth of religion, 
 in relations such as those between morals and art, between 
 society and government, between national life and litera- 
 ture. Now, it is not difficult to see how such a conception 
 must indispose men under its influence to look favorably 
 upon miracle. In the idea of order everyAvhere supreme, 
 calm, eternal, there is a sublimity which fills their imagi- 
 nation and stimulates their intellect. Any interruption of 
 its uniform course, any breach of continuity, would be a 
 
78 LAW AND MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 blemish in the picture, and not an additional charm — would 
 be, indeed, a positive pain to thought, and, instead of dis- 
 posing the mind to reverence, would fill it with confusion 
 and doubt. And it can not be wondered at, therefore, if, 
 with the difficulty before them, they prefer to hold fast to 
 a truth they certainly know, and to pass by what is so com- 
 pletely at variance with all their habits of thought. 
 
 11. A second influence adverse to the belief in mira- 
 cle springs from the natural history of religion. When 
 we compare the religions of the world in their origin and 
 growth, it is remarkable that miracle is a constant element 
 of them all. From the lowest fetichism upward, this is a 
 characteristic feature, varying, it is true, according to the 
 genius of the nation, but expressing the same underlying 
 conception. In the higher forms of faith, miracle is the spe- 
 cial attribute of those who stand near to God, and mediate 
 between him and their brethren. It matters not whether 
 the teachers have themselves claimed the power or repu- 
 diated it ; the deep impression they have left upon the 
 minds of their countrymen is the fertile source of legend 
 and tradition. Thus, for instance, the founders of Buddh- 
 ism and Islam, the great historic faiths, which at the pres- 
 ent moment dispute with Christianity the empire of the 
 world, consistently protested against being thought wonder- 
 workers. Yet, in spite of their protests, the imagination of 
 subsequent generations has encircled their persons with a 
 halo of supernatural glory, and credited them with mira- 
 cles that are equally marvelous with those recorded in the 
 Gospels. It has been asked, therefore, Have we not here a 
 natural tendency of the human heart, to which we may 
 trace the origin of miraculous narratives of every kind, 
 even of the Christian ones ? Must we not regard them all 
 alike as the offspring of the religious imagination, and treat 
 them simply as .the poetical form in which great truths are 
 vividly presented to us ? There is here, observe, no ques- 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 79 
 
 tion of imposture or willful deception. From tbis point of 
 view miracles are only representations, under material em- 
 blems, of tbougbts and feelings wbicb bave been called 
 into being by tbe spiritual teaching of a messenger of God 
 — reflections, in tbe world of sense, of tbe workings of tbe 
 mind — and to tbe multitude, ever eager for type and sym- 
 bol, indispensable, tbe natural accompaniments of all re- 
 ligion. Hence it is, too, tbat tbey linger lovingly round 
 tbe point of origin of tbe faitb, and gradually disappear 
 as we travel onward. Tbey cluster round tbe person and 
 career of tbe propbet, and invest bim witb powers corre- 
 sponding to tbe influence be bas exerted. Tbe results of bis 
 teacbing are referred back to tbe time wben it was first 
 proclaimed, and feeling and imagination conspire to picture 
 tbat as tbe golden age of tbe faitb, tbe age wben tbe gates 
 of heaven stood open, and earth was bathed in a brighter 
 radiance than the "light of common day." Miracles thus 
 belong to the poetry of religion : they are a recollection of 
 its fresh and buoyant youth. 
 
 III. The third influence adverse to tbe belief in miracles 
 to which we shall refer comes from the realm of theology 
 itself, wben the authorship and constitution of the Chris- 
 tian records are brought into tbe discussion. By their very 
 nature, appealing as they do to the senses, miracles address 
 themselves to eye-witnesses alone. Whatever may be their 
 value as evidences for truth, be it little or much, it is lim- 
 ited to tbe time of their occurrence. To succeedins: ajres, 
 belief in them comes at second-hand, through tbe medium 
 of tradition, oral or written ; and tbe trustworthiness of the 
 tradition is tbe measure of tbe stability of tbe belief. To 
 establish the reality of events so rare and apart from ordi- 
 nary experience, tbe clearest testimony is absolutely neces- 
 sary ; and therefore the reception of tbe New Testament 
 miracles turns upon the position and weight allowed to tbe 
 Gospels. With tbis question, however, we at once enter 
 
80 LAW AND MIRACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 upon the domain of historical criticism : and, whatever he 
 the decision there, the title of that decision to be received 
 depends exclusively upon the fairness with which the in- 
 quiry has been conducted ; for the right to treat such toj^ics 
 critically can no longer be denied, and the right once con- 
 ceded involves the possibility of different answers being 
 given. Say with some, indeed, that the inspiration of the 
 evangelists was such as to preserve them from all error, and 
 of course the question falls to the ground. The mere fact 
 that the miracles are recorded is of itself sufficient, and there 
 is no room left for discussion. But, putting aside such an 
 untenable theory, surely no one who has regard to the origin 
 of the Gospels — to their rise out of the mass of floating tra- 
 dition, to their distance in point of time from the events 
 narrated, to the freedom with which they treat the Old Tes- 
 tament Scriptures, to the temper of the age which we have 
 already noticed — surely no one who has regard to all this 
 can maintain their character to be such as to exclude the 
 possibility that they have received the impress of the modes 
 of thought familiar to the early Church. The composite 
 structure of the narrative forbids us to demand that the 
 whole of the tradition shall be received without distinction, 
 or to insist that the rejection of any part, no matter what, 
 is at once a heinous sin and a deadly injury to revelation. 
 It is the recognition of this composite structure which in- 
 duces many to stumble at the miracles of the Gospel. They 
 simply take up the position that in none of the records 
 which have been preserved do we possess the clear and suffi- 
 cient testimony necessary to constrain belief in such events : 
 and therefore, while they pay homage to the revelation with 
 heart and understanding, and confess its power and beauty, 
 in the miracles they only see the result of the j^revailing ten- 
 dency to embody spiritual truth in material form. 
 
 These, then, are, we think, three principal sources of the 
 shrinking from miracle characteristic of our own day. And 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 81 
 
 the question immediately suggests itself, What effect has 
 the rejection of miracle upon Christianity ? Is it possible 
 at once to believe in the revelation of Christ, and yet to set 
 aside Avhat has hitherto formed so important a part of the 
 historical narrative ? To some, the answer will come with- 
 out hesitation. To deny the miracles is, in their eyes, not 
 only to impoverish the revelation, but to rob it of its dis- 
 tinctive features, and leave only a residuum of moral pre- 
 cepts. It is to sacrifice Christianity, and to put one's self 
 without the pale of the Church of Christ. A calmer judg- 
 ment will hesitate to pronounce so sweeping a verdict. 
 The change in the circumstances of Christianity has taught 
 us to distinguish the relative proportions of its doctrines ; 
 and where, as among ourselves, its truths are the birthright 
 of the community, and its influence has created habits of 
 thought, to suppose that its right of possession can be dan- 
 gerously affected by the denial of miracle is to misappre- 
 hend its power and essence. The chief interest which the 
 Church of to-day has in the signs and wonders recorded in 
 the Gospels is a scientific one, lying in the direction of the 
 philosophy of religion, in the field of historical speculation. 
 The problem concerns the origin of the faith, and may be 
 stated thus : How are we to account for the celestial radi- 
 ance which enveloped Christianity at its birth, and was 
 shortly afterward extinguished ? One answer is, that the 
 tendency, rising almost to an instinct, of the human mind 
 to make extraordinary phenomena in nature the attendants 
 of every new moral and spiritual impulse, in proportion as 
 the impulse is felt to be regenerative, is of itself sufficient 
 to explain the miraculous narratives which have come down 
 to us. On the other hand, it is said that at that time the 
 continuity of history was broken, and the Christian severed 
 from the pre-Christian era ; that Christianity was in fact 
 an absolutely new beginning, independent of historical con- 
 ditions, and witnessed to by special interferences with the 
 
82 ^-4 ^V ^ND MIRA CLE. [sermon v, 
 
 ordinary course of nature. But these opposing views both 
 belong to the theoretical side of Christian thought, and he 
 who supports the former does not therefore deny the truth 
 of the revelation. No doubt his creed will not formally 
 correspond with that of his neighbor who holds the alter- 
 native opinion ; the outlines will be filled up differently, 
 and in quieter tones ; in particular, the one will ascribe to 
 the immanent power of God what the other ascribes to his 
 extraneous and incidental action. Yet such a difference 
 can not be said to prejudice, far less to be fatal to, the in- 
 terests of religion. So far as these are involved, a true 
 faith in Christ may be modified by, but does not depend 
 upon, belief in the miracles : it is in the immediate con- 
 sciousness of his spiritual power that the aim and scope of 
 his mission are perceived, and that his word becomes " a light 
 unto the feet and a lamp unto the path." And therefore, to 
 insist that no one who rejects the miracles of the New Tes- 
 tament may claim to be a Christian, is intolerance which 
 ought to be resisted. It directly tends to drive away from 
 the faith men who are neither vain nor uncultured, but rev- 
 erent and thoughtful ; men, however, who are so strongly 
 impressed by the revelation of Nature, that any teaching 
 which is at variance with her already known truths is, un- 
 less it comes with irresistible authority, at once decisively 
 rejected. Yet intolerance such as this is the natural result 
 of a blind Bibliolatry which, refusing to distinguish between 
 Christianity in itself and the New Testament its historical 
 record, assumes that Christianity was necessarily purest 
 near its source, and that, lower down, we may only look 
 for sullied waters. The very opposite is the fact. Near 
 the source, the turbid stream of Judaism poured into the 
 pure current of our Saviour's teaching, and the mingled 
 waters were dark and troubled. It is only as we descend 
 that the foreign matter then held in solution is gradually 
 precipitated, and the river of the water of life flows on 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIEAGLE. 83 
 
 more clear. At the beginning, Christianity, deeply tinged 
 with Judaic elements, was in the utmost danger of becom- 
 ing merely a new form of the national religion. The fea- 
 ture of the apostolic age was the Church's struggle for in- 
 dependence of the Law ; it was by degrees that her free- 
 dom was won, by degrees that she was successful in reject- 
 ing what was distinctively Mosaic. In spreading over large 
 areas, it became necessary to speak to man as man, and not 
 as a member of a particular nation ; and therefore Christi- 
 anity fell back upon the general principles essential to its 
 existence, and allowed local disputes and Jewish prejudice 
 to fade away unheeded. And the process is not yet com- 
 plete. As the generations pass, we learn, as we have said, 
 to see more clearly what are the divine and eternal, what 
 the human and transitory, elements of the revelation. "We 
 become able to distinguish between what is essential and 
 what is not ; and as the latter drops into the background — 
 whether it be miracle, or apostolic ordinance, or the cling- 
 ing remnants of that Judaism which puts assent to dogma 
 in place of faith — the grandeur, and beauty, and educating 
 power of the revelation of Christ are felt only the more, 
 and command a more reverent homage. The letter of 
 Scripture opens up to disclose the spirit ; the universal 
 principles of our Saviour's teaching are made plain; its 
 bold and generous outlines are thrown into relief and sat- 
 isfy the mental vision ; and the truth of his message is 
 verified, not by any outward testimony, but by the com- 
 munion of spirit with spirit, by the response of our own 
 hearts to his revelation of the Father. 
 
 It only remains to notice very briefly the teaching of 
 our Lord, " Except a man be born again he can not see the 
 kingdom of God." "With these words. He excludes the ap- 
 peal to outward tests of revelation, and refers us to a spir- 
 itual standard. The soul that in his presence becomes con- 
 scious of his influence has in itself a witness to his truth, 
 
84 LAW AND MIBACLE. [sermon v. 
 
 beside whicli no other witness is once to be named. The 
 life of Christ and the power of his Spirit over man are the 
 great and the enduring miracles of divine revelation. 
 
 The secret of Christianity, let us remember, can only be 
 "spiritually discerned." To be well acquainted with the 
 Gospel history, and versant with systems of theology, is 
 something quite distinct from being true followers of Christ. 
 The belief that rests upon such attainments is purely intel- 
 lectual, and goes into the same category as belief about 
 Plato, or Cicero, or the tenets of the Stoics. It may be 
 held without seriously influencing character, without evok- 
 ing any personal devotion or sense of God's nearness, and 
 from it we shall get no immediate or convincing proof of 
 the truth of our religion. But, when we come into contact 
 Vfith the Spirit of Christ, the revelation speaks home to us 
 in a different way, and discovers its spiritual wealth ; it 
 meets the cravings of our nature, and tells us that these, far 
 from being delusions, are the highest instincts of human- 
 ity. Under the burden of sin, and the felt discordance in 
 our being, the soul of man cries out for the living God. 
 The dream of the spirit is to be delivered from its weakness 
 and unrest, from imprisonment in its present bonds, into a 
 purer and fuller life, in which its haunting visions of holi- 
 ness and peace and self-control shall come true, and achieve- 
 ment, no longer baffled by a recreant will and halting en- 
 ergies, shall follow hard on aspiration. That ideal has been 
 realized in Christ ; and the spiritual impulse which imagi- 
 nation and reflection could not by themselves originate has 
 been given to humanity by the life and death of the Son of 
 Man. To enter into fellowship with him is at once to be 
 delivered from the overwhelming consciousness of infinite 
 power, which, hidden in the depths of space, no cry can 
 reach and no suffering move, and to find ourselves the 
 objects of a Father's care ; it is to be assured of the Divine 
 goodness, and clemency, and sorrow for the sins of men. 
 
FERGUSON.] LAW AND MIRACLE. 85 
 
 and to be taught that our highest life depends upon submis- 
 sion to the will of God ; it is to learn that the whole course 
 of God's providence and government helps forward the 
 education of his children, and that the external conditions, 
 against which we sometimes chafe and fret, are, in the very- 
 steadfastness of their laws, the pledge and earnest of his 
 purpose to complete that education ; it is, in a word, to 
 know that our nature, hemmed in and sinful though it be, 
 is yet akin to the divine, and can find its rest in God alone. 
 A revelation such as this, which discloses the true relations 
 between earth and heaven, can afford to dispense with out- 
 ward testimony of whatever kind. The best witness to its 
 truth is to be found in our own consciousness, in its acknowl- 
 edged power to satisfy the wants and to develop the capa- 
 cities of the soul. "The Spirit beareth witness with our 
 spirit " ; and in communion with God, delivered from the 
 pressure of fear and the bondage of selfishness, the whole 
 nature is strengthened, the balance of its powers is restored, 
 and a genial influence quickens intellect and conscience and 
 will. The faith which then possesses the mind does not 
 rest upon argument, nor does it require to call authority to 
 its aid. It has all the certainty and spontaneousness of in- 
 stinct or natural endowment, and is at once the living spring 
 of our conscious action, and the consecrating principle of 
 our unconscious influence. It is a faith that can not be 
 overthrown ; and amid the changes of history, amid the 
 variations of dogmatic systems and ecclesiastical organiza- 
 tions, amid the " time and chance " of the human lot, its 
 confident expression is in the noble words of the apostle : 
 " I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor 
 principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to 
 come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
 be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
 Christ Jesus our Lord." 
 
86 THE VISION OF GOD. [seemon vi. 
 
 YI. 
 
 THE VISION OF GOD. 
 
 BY THE REV. D. J. FERGUSON, B. D., STRATHBLANE. 
 
 " Philip saith unto him, Lord, sliew us the Father, and it suf- 
 ficetli us. Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, 
 and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? He that hath seen me 
 hath seen the Father ; and how sayest thou then, Shew us the 
 Father? "—John xiv, 8, 9. 
 
 It takes little reflection or experience to make us aware 
 that on every hand we are beset by mystery and contradic- 
 tion. God has placed us within a system of rigid, univer- 
 sal law. He has hedged us in with conditions upon which 
 our very existence depends, yet which we can understand 
 only in part. We have hardly crossed the threshold of life 
 before we find ourselves in a maze of problems, practical 
 and theoretical, of action and of thought, through which 
 we can see only a little way ; we walk in twilight and must 
 pick our steps. Duty seems to clash with duty, motive with 
 motive, and the mind to be divided against itself. Truth 
 is opposed to truth in bewildering confusion ; and when we 
 would follow out one, to what seems its legitimate issue, we 
 find ourselves at variance with another not less important 
 and not less sure. And it is when we try to reconcile such 
 hostile principles, to apportion to each its own province, 
 and hold them consistently together in thought, that we 
 become most conscious, sometimes most painfully conscious, 
 of the finite range of our faculties, and learn to spell out 
 the alphabet of patience and humility. 
 
FEKousoN.] THE VISION OF GOD. 87 
 
 Take, for instance, one of the great contradictions of 
 our minds. At one time, we seem to ourselves to be free 
 agents. We know that we are responsible for conduct, and 
 have the power to choose our course of action. The con- 
 ditions of life furnish so much material for the will to work 
 on, and mold into definite form. But, again, we seem no 
 less to be bound down by an iron necessity. We are the 
 creatures of circumstances and passively molded by exter- 
 nal influences. We are hurried along by currents of habit 
 and instinct and predisposition, and act as if we were ma- 
 chines. 
 
 So too in the sphere of the religious life, we are met by 
 the struggle between good and evil in our natures. It is 
 the opposition between what the apostle calls the old and 
 the new man, between Adam and Christ. The flesh lusting 
 against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, give rise 
 to a conflict which extends not only to outward action, but 
 also to our inmost thoughts, and, in a most marked way, to 
 our conceptions of spiritual truth. To give the higher ele- 
 ments of our being the control of the lower is life and 
 peace in a spiritual faith : in proportion as the balance is 
 reversed, it becomes increasingly diflicult to preserve any 
 faith in the spiritual at all. 
 
 Belief in the spiritual runs like a silver thread through 
 the whole tissue of life. It gives color to our noblest 
 thoughts, and inspires our highest hopes. Yet the spirit- 
 ual is bound up with, and practically inseparable from, our 
 knowledge of the material ; it always works in and through 
 some external form. Therefore it is that Ave clothe it with 
 a body, and give it "a local habitation and a name" ; we 
 limit and define it, and in this way there arises the common 
 idea of personality. 
 
 So it comes to pass that, when we try to rise from the 
 idea of finite spirit to the thought of God, the Infinite, 
 " without body, parts, or passions," we find ourselves in a 
 
88 THE VISION OF GOD. [sermon vi. 
 
 region where the ground seems to be slipping away from 
 under us. The atmosphere becomes too rarefied for us to 
 breathe freely ; the exertion it demands brings too severe 
 a tension upon our powers, and we sink down exhausted, 
 and glad to return to the ordinary level of thought. It is 
 as if we turned our eyes upon the sun, only to find that, 
 though himself "the very source and fount of day," his 
 brightness passes into darkness, and makes us fain to be 
 content with reflections of his glory. 
 
 It is easy, therefore, to understand why men in all ages 
 have worshiped gods made after the likeness of humanity. 
 The tendency to conceive of the Deity as a magnified man 
 can not be got rid of. Go to the classical mythologies, for 
 instance, and the gods of Olympus are only projections, upon 
 a large canvas, of the figures of their suppliants. Or turn 
 to the Hebrew Scriptures. Jehovah is there represented as 
 the great Potentate, who " sits upon the circle of the earth, 
 and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers." In a 
 special manner, He is the God of Israel. He is swayed by 
 human motives, and acts under the limitations of the national 
 character. Anger and complacency, jealousy and favor, 
 determination and repentance, are ascribed to him on every 
 hand : and, grand as is the conception of the Divine Being 
 in the noblest of the ancient books, the basis of the concep- 
 tion is, in the last instance, the character of the pious Israel- 
 ite. It is the especial glory of Christianity to teach that 
 " God is a Spirit ; and they that worship him must worship 
 him in spirit and in truth " ; and by that teaching to sum- 
 mon all nations to a common worship and a common faith. 
 
 And yet there are many in the Christian Church who 
 fail to grasp this, the central truth of Christ's teaching. To 
 think of a person is to them the same as to think of certain 
 lineaments and form : and therefore when they woixld medi- 
 tate upon God, the Creator, Ruler, and Sustainer of the 
 universe, they are forced to picture bim in human likeness. 
 
FERGUSON.] THE VISION OF GOD. 89 
 
 Seated somewhere in infinite space, enthroned above the 
 worlds, is, they imagine, the Eternal in the infinitely magni- 
 fied form of man. Without some such concrete foundation, 
 their thought of God could not maintain itself, but would 
 vanish into thin air. And it is not strange, therefore, to 
 find this faith developing in the direction of ritual or dog- 
 ma. Of the earth, earthy, it can not possibly lift itself 
 above the range of earthly gravitation. 
 
 It seems to us that, in the passage before us, Philip 
 represents this material tendency, and gives expression to 
 the craving for a visible Deity. He had been of our Lord's 
 company from the beginning, of the inner circle of the 
 twelve. He had listened to the public teaching of Christ, 
 and had been privileged to hear his Master's intimate dis- 
 course with friends. He had thus continually before him 
 the holy life and character, the infinite power and sympa- 
 thy, of Christ : and yet, after all, he had utterly failed to 
 grasp the spiritual nature of our Saviour's revelation of God. 
 One of the apostles, entering into the scope of his mission, 
 had already confessed him to be " the Christ, the Son of the 
 living God." Yet here we have a brother-disciple, unable 
 even at the end of our Lord's career to follow out the 
 meaning of that confession, unable to rise above the realm 
 of sense, and lift his thoughts into the sphere of spiritual 
 life, and asking, " Shew us the Father, and it sulliceth us." 
 
 What was our Saviour's answer? "Jesus saith unto 
 him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou 
 not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen me hath seen 
 the Father ; and how sayest thou then, Shew us the Fa- 
 ther?" Could speech be more thrilling in its pathos? 
 One can almost see the look turned upon the questioner ; 
 one can almost hear the disappointed, reproachful tones of 
 that reply. And surely it was not the least bitter drop in 
 the Saviour's cup that, at the close of his mission, when He 
 felt his hours were numbered, He should know his teaching 
 
90 THE VISION OF GOD. [sekmon vi. 
 
 misunderstood by his most intimate friends. Not yet was 
 He to see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied. He 
 had to meet his doom, bereft even of the sustaining power of 
 sympathy, with the conviction forced upon him, that they 
 to whom He had specially ministered were still clinging to 
 the present, valuing the material above the spiritual, the 
 earthly above the heavenly, the seen above the unseen. If 
 it be lawful to use such language, there is, in these sad, re- 
 proachful words, a half-consciousness of failure. 
 
 Now, there is one great lesson to be learned from the 
 text, viz., that our common human nature is the most per- 
 fect revelation of God. 
 
 The point of our Lord's answer evidently is that Philip, 
 having had the life of Christ before him, should have been 
 able to recoo-nize in it a manifestation of the Divine. The 
 purity and self-forgetfulness which it displayed were true 
 reflections of the mind of God, and as such they would have 
 appeared to the apostle, had he not been held in the bonds 
 of sense. And thus our Lord has taught us, that what is 
 good and true on earth is good and true in heaven, and that 
 the moral and spiritual perceptions of the human mind are 
 worthy of perfect trust. Justice and mercy and righteous- 
 ness, as we know them here, are counterparts of justice and 
 mercy and righteousness as they are in God. The Divine 
 goodness differs from what approves itself to us as good- 
 ness, not in kind but in degree : " His ways are higher than 
 our ways, and his thoughts than our thoughts." Doubtless 
 it is said that He judges differently from man ; but that is 
 because He sees more clearly than we do, because all things 
 are naked and open before him, and not because his justice 
 is essentially different from ours. In short, our Lord has 
 told us that, to the limit of its power, the soul of man is a 
 faithful witness for God ; and that the life which is governed 
 by loyalty to truth and righteousness is in reality one with 
 him, the dwelling-place of his Spirit, his continual revelation. 
 
FERGUSON.] THE VISION OF GOD. 91 
 
 We need not, therefore, ask where we may find him, or 
 fancy that, if we could wing our flight through the infinities 
 of space, we should at length come upon his sanctuary. 
 God's chosen dwelling is the humble contrite spirit : the 
 pure in heart, and they alone, can see him. Let our eyes 
 once be opened, and, like the prophet's servant of old, we 
 shall see that on every side we are surrounded by his pres- 
 ence. There are sanctities of life and duty, of home and 
 affection, of sympathy and helpfulness, of penitence and 
 prayer, v.hich daily speak of him to those who will lend an 
 ear. Let these be neglected or profaned, and we need not 
 wonder if earth loses its consecration and speaks no more 
 of God. Let them be reverenced, and wherever, in the 
 history of mankind or among our fellows, we observe lives 
 moved by high aspiration, cherishing loyalty to duty, and 
 that reverence for goodness and truth which speaks of 
 the great destiny to be afterward revealed, we must also 
 acknowledge the revelation of the Most High. 
 
 But, if in our common nature we get this revelation, it 
 is in Christ himself that we get it in its most perfect form. 
 
 The types and metaphors we employ in speaking of the 
 atonement must not be used so as to overshadow or distort 
 the great truth that He came to show us the Father. By 
 giving us this revelation. He became the mediator of a new 
 communion between God and man. In the lives of the 
 sages and prophets of every nation reflections of the Divine 
 nature have been given. Therefore, their fellows listened 
 to them, and received a fresh impulse from them. Still, 
 these have been only broken lights, single-colored rays 
 which require to be gathered into one, before we see the 
 pure white light of absolute goodness. Such a focus we 
 have in the life of Christ. And therefore we turn to him, 
 " the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image 
 of his person," to obtain a true idea of what God is, and of 
 what our relation to God ought to be. His holy life leads us 
 
92 THE VISION OF GOD. [sermon vr. 
 
 into a nobler, tenderer, more humane faith in our heavenly 
 Father, and challenges oyir reverence and admiration by the 
 inherent power and beauty of goodness. In every depart- 
 ment of life, but especially in the sphere of moral and reli- 
 gious truth, it is comparatively easy to apprehend and value, 
 but difficult to originate and plan. In art, in science, in 
 literature, there are thousands who can appreciate the mas- 
 terpieces of genius, for one who is able to create and exe- 
 cute. This last is the test of the Divine fire. And so, in 
 like manner, the purity of Christ appeals to us. We can 
 not find it in ourselves ; but, when it is presented to us, we 
 recognize its claims to our reverent homage and obedience. 
 It speaks to us of higher things, and shows us the possibili- 
 ties in our nature of approaching God. And then the closer 
 we draw near our Lord, the more does his chai-acter open 
 up to our devout contemi^lation, and his revelation itself 
 expand. We are told that, while the planets are revolving 
 round the sun, the sun himself, with his attendant train, is 
 sw^eeping toward a point in space so remote that the ima- 
 gination fails to picture to itself the immensity of the curve. 
 And so, too, to the faithful follower of Christ, revelation 
 develops into a nobler range, and teaches him to see the 
 whole universe in ever-widening cycles, centering upon God. 
 Finally, as it is our great privilege to keep the life of 
 Christ before us as the highest revelation of what our 
 heavenly Father is : so, on the other hand, it is our boun- 
 den duty to see that our religious conceptions do not run 
 counter to his teaching. It is our bounden duty to cast out 
 of our belief in God every element that could enter into 
 conflict with his blessed life, and to reject any view of the 
 relations between God and man, no matter how strongly 
 upheld, which is at variance wath the primary moral instinct 
 of the human soul. If we have been accustomed to ap- 
 proach God with hearts mistrustful of the kindness of his 
 feelings toward us ; if our religion has been poisoned by 
 
FERccsoN.] THE VISION OF GOD. 93 
 
 fear, and the wings of our affections clipped by suspicion, 
 and the understanding fettered by unworthy thoughts of 
 his character and will ; if, after the dictates of a cruel tra- 
 dition, we have pictured him as an unjust despot, who 
 brings myriads into being in order to consign them to utter 
 darkness and despair— if this be the idol of our own imagi- 
 nation we have professed to worship, let us go back in all 
 simplicity of heart to the life of Christ, and bring our belief 
 into accordance with what we learn from it. There will 
 be no need then for us to say with Philip, "Lord, shew us 
 the Father, and it sufficeth us." We shall see him in the 
 face of Jesus Christ ; and our hearts will respond to the 
 Saviour's answer, " He that hath seen me hath seen the 
 Father." 
 
94 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vii. 
 
 VII. 
 CONSEKYATIO]^ AND CHANGE. 
 
 BY THE RET. PROFESSOR KNIGHT, LL. D., ST. ANDREWS. 
 
 "Far be it, far be it from me, that I sbould swallow up or de- 
 stroy. The matter is not so." — 2 Samuel xx, 20, 21. 
 
 " Violence shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor de- 
 struction within thy borders." — Isaiah Ix, 18. 
 
 These two sentences taken together suggest a few 
 thoughts on tendencies which are threatening the old order 
 of things in Church and State alike ; and which affect both 
 our secular life and our religious experience. 
 
 The saying of Joab to the wise woman of Abel, " one 
 of the peaceable and faithful in Israel," who asked that 
 captain of the host why he came to destroy a city — " Far 
 be it, far be it from me that I should destroy" — we may 
 remove from its context, and regard it simply as a resolu- 
 tion not to overthrow anything in itself good. The other 
 sentence, from Isaiah, refers to a period in the history of 
 the Church when the harsh spirit of destructiveness would 
 give place to the mildness, the moderation, and the sweet 
 reasonableness of the Christian spirit. "Violence shall no 
 more be heard in the land, wasting nor destruction within 
 thy borders " ; as a little further on it is said that a crea- 
 tive and constructive tendency would be substituted for 
 the anarchy, the collision, and the dismemberment of the 
 past. "They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy 
 mountain, saith the Lord." 
 
KNiGiiT.J CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 95 
 
 It is usually rash for any one to say what the chief ten- 
 dency of his own age is, trying to sura up, in a single prop- 
 osition, so complex a thing as the spirit of a generation. 
 For it is only at a distance, and in retrospect, that the main 
 tendency of any epoch can be adequately measured ; when 
 the results of agencies that once were active are seen in 
 what they have accomplished, or failed to accomplish. On 
 the other hand, it is not difficult to estimate some of the 
 forces that sway contemporary thought, and guide the 
 action of one's own time. Many of these can be most 
 accurately known, and are most easily criticised, just as 
 the events themselves transpire. 
 
 We are told by some that we live in an idle, empty age, 
 devoid of heroism, an age of weak assents and timid com- 
 promises ; and there may be some truth in the assertion. 
 But, if there is, this is not the chief characteristic of our 
 time. Other influences are at work, both numerous and 
 subtile, tending to break up and to dissolve. Schemes are 
 inauofurated and movements started of which the watch- 
 word is destruction, and the successful issue of which would 
 be the disintegration of society. If thought in many quar- 
 ters is vague, latitudinarian, and indifferent, in others the tone 
 and temper of society is headstrong, moving blindly and tur- 
 bulently forward, it knows not whither. Everywhere " the 
 old order " is changing, " giving place to the new." AVhile 
 everv ajre is a time of transition, ours seems to be one of 
 rapid movement and continual surprises. No one, who has 
 any capacity for reading the signs of the times, can doubt 
 that the tendency to acquiesce and to make compromise is 
 not more dominant than the counter-tendency to protest, to 
 assault, and to revolutionize ; and to those who discern this 
 fact, it becomes a question of grave moment what their 
 relation to the changing spirit of their age, and to the alter- 
 ations that are being wrought upon its current beliefs, 
 should be. Let us see, then, whether in this, as in other 
 
96 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vir, 
 
 things, our moderation should not be known unto all 
 men. 
 
 The special tendency to which I refer — a tendency sway- 
 ing certain sections of society, both civil and ecclesiastical 
 — is one which fastens instinctively upon the defects rather 
 than upon the merits of the past, and which would destroy 
 the institutions which we inherit from our forefathers, be- 
 cause they now seem less adequate than once they were, 
 and are somewhat injured by the wear and tear of time. And 
 this is how it shows itself : It spends its strength in assault 
 upon existing evils — and sometimes in excitement for the 
 redress of imaginary wrongs — rather than in the prudent 
 use of circumstances, making the best of things as they are. 
 It strives to abolish the imperfect by external assault, rather 
 than to reform it from within by a new and higher spirit of 
 endeavor. It is loudly affirmed in certain quarters that 
 compromise of all kinds is an evil, that non-conformity — or 
 the open expression of dissent from your fellow-men, when 
 you chance to differ from them — is one of the first of 
 duties ; and that, as eveiy party which happens to have 
 ascendancy for a time ought to tolerate a dissentient mi- 
 nority, and not concuss it into acquiescence, the minority 
 should not only claim the right of recognition, but should 
 incessantly and even noisily assert itself, endeavoring by all 
 the means within its reach to become the majority. 
 
 That this kind of rivalry, or struggle for existence, has 
 its uses is undoubted ; because it stirs up slumbering en- 
 ergy, and prevents the supineness that might otherwise 
 characterize large masses of society. It has always been 
 the bane of conformity that it breeds indolence and acqui- 
 escence in things as they are, whatever they are. Narrow 
 men of fervid temperament relish the excitements of con- 
 troversy, because it supplies them with a stimulus, urging 
 them along the bounded lines of their vocation, while those 
 of broader vision necessarily care less for party organization 
 
KNIGHT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 97 
 
 and the polemic schemes which agitate the masses of so- 
 ciety. But they are singularly apt to misconstrue those 
 movements with which they have no personal sympathy. 
 It is well known that when clear vision is allied to a calm 
 temperament there is a corresponding disinclination to the 
 expression of difference, because of its accompaniments, the 
 disturbance, the strife, and the turmoil of controversy. 
 This, however, may be a sign of indolence, or even of pusil- 
 lanimity ; and if to teach the duty of moderation and con- 
 formity were to encourage an unreflective assent to current 
 opinion — no matter what the opinion might be — rather than 
 disturb society by debate, the collapse of interest in truth 
 and of an earnest purjDosc in life would be inevitable. 
 
 Now, as in this world " all things are double one against 
 another," it is wise to sec the weak side of a principle, even 
 while you are magnifying it, and indicating its strength, its 
 value, and its adequacy. Let it be admitted, therefore, 
 that the evil of compromise is its tendency to induce intel- 
 lectual lethargy and a repose that may be cowardly. So 
 much of truth is seen to be associated with error, so much 
 of good to be allied with what is evil, that, for the sake of 
 the true and the good, the error and the evil are not only 
 tolerated, but deemed trivial. It is notorious that the prac- 
 tice of assent to traditional opinion has led to a habit of in- 
 difference. Even the virtue of catholicity has degenerated 
 to the level of a moral weakness ; and it will always do so, 
 if, while the eye is trained to discern the good, the judg- 
 ment be not simultaneously disciplined to reject the evil 
 and the erroneous. In matters both of opinion and of con- 
 duct, it is as though a soft and dreamy haze overspread the 
 landscape, blotting out the lines which mark off one ob- 
 ject from another ; and, however pleasant such a state of 
 weather after the blasts of controversy and the storms of 
 debate, a very slight experience of it will lead all healthy 
 minds to wish for a return of the east wind and the sea- 
 6 
 
98 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon rii. 
 
 breeze, which dispel the mist and clear the firmament of its 
 obscurities. 
 
 JBut then, as the Preacher of the Exile reminded his gen- 
 eration, " to everything there is a season, and a time for 
 every purpose tinder heaven' a time to destroy, and a time 
 to build up ; a time to rend, and a time to sew ; a time of 
 war, and a time of peace." It would seem that the fluctua- 
 tions of the weather and the cycle of changes that occur in 
 physical nature are symbolic of similar periodic changes in 
 the intellectual and moral life of men. Thus, a social revolu- 
 tion destroying the complacency of custom, a- religious refor- 
 mation breaking in upon the monotony of tradition, have 
 their uses. They are as valuable as those periods of slow, 
 unconscious growth which tend to mature individual charac- 
 ter and to consolidate society. In the region of belief and 
 action, however, we may not accept the changes that occur 
 with the same complacency with which we receive and wel- 
 come the changes of the seasons. We are ourselves, in 
 part, the producers of our own varying states ; and, if we 
 inherit much from the past, we create and transmit as much 
 to the future. We can not, therefore, simply accept, in pas- 
 sive thankfulness, what the past has bequeathed to us. We 
 must endeavor to refashion as well as to assimilate what it 
 has brought us. And, to do this aright, we must have some 
 knowledge of the temper and spirit of our time. We must 
 understand its drift, whence its currents flow, and whither 
 they are tending, if we are not to be its slaves. 
 
 Whatever its tendency, however, every wise man will 
 welcome those changes which are the result of the natural 
 processes of growth — whether these are swift or slow — and 
 will resist those which are revolutionary, or rashly destruc- 
 tive of the past. More especially will those Institutions 
 which we have inherited from our forefathers be reverently 
 preserved and religiously fostered. While our individual 
 opinions are being modified by all the light which an age 
 
KNIGHT. J CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 99 
 
 of critical research is accumulating, we do well to be jeal- 
 ous of assault upon the social organizations which have come 
 down to us from the past. Of these we are as much the 
 guardians as the heirs. It is the merest commonplace to 
 say that our opinions must inevitably change, that we can 
 not possibly conserve them in the old forms and frameworks 
 of the past, that modification of belief is as certain and as 
 necessary as the slower modification of physical structure, 
 organization, and life. And every one should be encour- 
 aged to subject his opinions to the free air of thought, to 
 revise his convictions continually in the light of progressive 
 evidence, verifying them by more and more adequate tests. 
 That is wise, wholesome, beneficent teaching ; because it is 
 not possible for us to store up our convictions, with the view 
 of preserving them, as exotic plants are cherished in a con- 
 servatory, by artificial heat. But while it should be the 
 aim of each individual that all his beliefs should be vital — 
 and therefore that, like every living thing, they should 
 chansre with the life of the time — when ho looks abroad he 
 finds himself in the midst of institutions Avhich are the slow 
 growth of ages. He is surrounded, in State and Church 
 alike, by a vast and complex organization, built up by long 
 hereditary usage, which has ministered to the Avants of many 
 generations, and which still answei'S to the needs and re- 
 quirements of to-day. These historic structures are, doubt- 
 less, also doomed to change. They must alter by the op- 
 eration of the very same laws by which they have come to 
 be what they are. They begin to change as soon as they 
 begin to exist, because inherent fixity appertains to nothing 
 on this earth. But, because they have grown and consoli- 
 dated slowly, they have a proportionate claim on the hom- 
 age of posterity. They should in no case be rashly touched, 
 or rudely dealt with. 
 
 Besides, they are full of latent possibilities. There is 
 no fixed period of youth and of age, of rise, decline, and 
 
100 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vii. 
 
 fall, for institutions, as there is for individuals. They, much 
 more than we, may renew their youth in old age. We can 
 not detect the signs of decay in them, as we detect it in an- 
 cient trees or buildings, that have served their time ; because 
 there may be in all of them the slumbering powers of life, 
 and adequacy for the new and altered conditions of another 
 age. If they are to pass away, they should be allowed to 
 do so by the process of fulfillment and superannuation, not 
 by external assault or undermining. The student of history 
 knows that they will all die soon enough, without our hands 
 helping on the process ; and to make it the labor of a life 
 or of a party, simply to assail institutions, to be iconoclasts 
 by profession, is little better than being incendiaries. 
 
 The wise attitude, then, toward any institution which 
 can not be proved to be doing mischief, is to hail the changes 
 that are being effected upon it by the processes of internal 
 growth and development, but not to seek its overthrow. 
 Doubtless, the antagonism to every change and the frequent 
 blindness of leaders to the signs of their own times — so com- 
 mon in Church and State organizations — go far to imjoeril 
 their stability, and to invite the external assaults which 
 attempt to lay them low. It is their want of elasticity 
 and adaptability to new conditions of existence that has led 
 many persons to be indifferent to their fate, and has deep- 
 ened the currents of national life that flow outside their 
 borders. But, if those who assume the office of leadership 
 are wise in their generation, this need never happen. If 
 they open their eyes to the necessity of adjusting the insti- 
 tution to the times — as a living organism adapts itself to a 
 new environment — it will not only survive the change, but 
 will derive new life and inspiration from it. The social 
 edifice, whether civil or ecclesiastical, will renew its youth ; 
 and the individual members, realizing that they have only 
 a temporary relation to the Structures into Avhich they were 
 born, will strive first to increase their efiiciency and then 
 
KNIGHT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 101 
 
 to transmit tliem to their successors as little injured as 
 possible. 
 
 It is a frequently forgotten element in the unity and 
 solidarity of the race, that the present generation is bound 
 to the past and to the future by ties as real and vital as 
 those which connect the different members of the race that 
 are contemporaries now. If, therefore, I may not forget 
 that I am only one out of many, and have no right to carry 
 out my individual liberty to the infringement of the rights 
 of others, neither may we who live now assert ourselves so 
 as to infringe the rights of those who come after us, or de- 
 molish institutions to which our successors have as good a 
 title as ourselves. In other words, the unity and solidarity 
 of the race apply, not merely to the whole area of the world 
 now, but also to the whole history of the human family, 
 past, present, and to come. It is comparatively easy for a 
 party or a class to inaugurate the work of demolition, espe- 
 cially if a fanatical spirit is abroad ; and, under the guise 
 of zeal for the common good, or for the glory of God, the 
 most venerable structures, raised by the wisdom and piety 
 of our forefathers, may be rudely overthrown. A revolu- 
 tion may accomplish in a few days the overthrow of that 
 which it took centuries to bring to perfection ; and institu- 
 tions which have but half subserved their uses may be lev- 
 eled with the ground, as a tree is smitten by a thunderbolt, 
 or a city demolished by an earthquake. It is far more diffi- 
 cult to build up, to consolidate, and to confirm ; because it 
 requires the consent and cooperation of thousands, and the 
 increasing purpose of generations of reverent men. The 
 growth of human institutions is a long and laborious, a slow 
 and silent, and mostly an unconscious process ; and, because 
 it is so, what the human race thus accomplishes calls for 
 the reverence of posterity and not its scorn ; while it de- 
 mands an earnest effort to preserve, sustain, and transmit it 
 unimpaired. 
 
102 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vii. 
 
 Nor will it suffice, for those who are always telling us 
 that good comes out of evil, to suggest that such disasters 
 as I have indicated only stir up the next generation to fresh 
 creative activity. No doubt, in many instances, it is so. 
 The sense of loss often leads to productiveness, just as 
 necessity is the mother of invention. The destruction of 
 Greek art, for example, and the burning of the great library 
 of the ancient world, may have helped forward the revival 
 of Europe \chen it came ; because, while there were fewer 
 precedents to appeal to, there w^as a greater demand for 
 originality and inventiveness. But what of the long period 
 of stagnation that followed the episodes of destruction and 
 violence ? What of the evils that ensued to the generations 
 that were impoverished meanwhile ? These disasters to 
 humanity, these wounds to the human race in general, are 
 the missing links in the chain of progress, which are for- 
 gotten by the advocates of revolutionary change. It is 
 true that the race may ultimately gain from the destructive 
 frenzy of a few ; for such is the sweep of that all-pervading 
 law of action and reaction that we can not tell how much 
 we are indebted even to the rude iconoclasm of the past for 
 the constructive toil of subsequent generations. Such is the 
 solidarity of the race in the direction indicated, so bound 
 together are the successive generations, as well as all con- 
 temporary workers, that we can with difficulty estimate our 
 debt to agencies and institutions wholly unlike those in 
 which we have been nurtured, for the very impulses that 
 are now inspiring us. But, by appealing to the results 
 which follow any course of action in the next generation, 
 it is possible to defend almost everything that has happened 
 in history. Every great crime stirs up society, awakens 
 indignation, and leads to much reactionary good. But 
 what of the evil it does in itself, and by contagion, or the 
 force of example ? The argument from results is a vain 
 plea in defense of anything that occurs ; because we are 
 
KKiGiiT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. JQS 
 
 always liable to deception, both in tracing causes and fol- 
 lowing consequences ; and we can never know that what 
 emerges is not equally the result of other causes cooperating 
 with that which is most obvious, and on which the eye of 
 the observer may be turned. 
 
 Besides, we have manifestly no right, from our detection 
 of blemishes in an institution, which it requires no great 
 acumen to perceive, to take part in its demolition. It is 
 the easiest thing in the world to discover flaws, whether 
 they be motes in your neighbor's eye, or beams in a sister 
 Church, or tendencies that are unlovely and arrogant, or 
 blind and headstrong, in the tone and temper of society. 
 But, if to detect these things is easy, and to rail at them 
 does no good, to seek to destroy the institutions in which 
 they exist, because we have been sharp-witted enough to 
 see the evils that cling to them, is essentially fanatical. 
 What institution could be put in the place of existing ones, 
 that would be free from defect ? It is sometimes in the 
 interest of a fancied movement of reconstruction that the 
 work of demolition is advocated. The overthrow is meant 
 to be a process preliminary to upbuilding. But it is as im- 
 possible for us to devise a social structure that shall be free 
 from blemish as it is to construct a creed with the stamp 
 of finality upon it. That which to our theoretic wisdom 
 might seem superior, were its merits tested by practical ex- 
 istence, would soon be seen to be as faulty as its predeces- 
 sor, many hidden evils being developed by experience. 
 
 In addition to tliis, it may be increasingly difficult to 
 found new institutions as society advances. Individualism 
 seems more and more dominant, as time goes on ; and, if 
 the corporate life of the nation — as embodied, for example, 
 in the Churches of the State — gives way before this indi- 
 vidualistic movement, it is difficult to see wliat can take 
 its place, that will be half so salutary or half so enduring. 
 What hope is there that any new organization would be 
 
104 COmEEVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vii. 
 
 better than the old ? that it would be worthier to live, or 
 longer lived ? Might not the destruction of the old hasten 
 on the disintegration of the new ? Our duty, therefore, 
 seems to be, to let the institutions, in the midst of which 
 we live, survive, so long as there is life in them, not only 
 unassailed by us, but fostered and upheld. As already said, 
 they can not survive for ever ; and they will all pass away 
 soon enough. But our main business is to conserve and 
 upbuild, in order that we may accomplish something posi- 
 tive ; and what we thus conserve will, if it be genuine, take 
 a silent and unconscious part in the demolition of that which 
 ought not to live. 
 
 Then, should not mere modesty and diffidence, due to 
 the fact that much error and illusion are inevitably mixed 
 up with the convictions we entertain, lead to the same prac- 
 tical result ? Let us see how this will operate. I suppose 
 we are not wrong in saying that every one should see clearly 
 and know accurately the character of things round him — 
 what they are, and how they have come to be what they 
 are — before he can know what his duty concerning them is. 
 There should, therefore, be no toleration of opinions which 
 can not stand the daylight of evidence and the sif tings of 
 experience. The freer our thought can be the better, if its 
 fetters are only custom, convention, and tradition. It should 
 be the aim of every one to penetrate from the seeming to 
 the real, and to be freed from illusions of every kind. But 
 then, as it is certain that we all carry about manifold illu- 
 sions mixed up with the truth we may happen to have 
 reached, and also that we shall retain some of them to the 
 end of life, taking them for the truth, the knowledge of 
 that fact should make us extremely cautious in carrying 
 out our convictions, if their practical issues are in any sense 
 iconoclastic. It is as impossible for us to be entirely free 
 from prejudice as it is to be wholly free from the germs of 
 physical disease. Add to this that the deepest or most 
 
KNioiiT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 105 
 
 thorough knowledge we ever attain to — on practical as well 
 as on theoretic subjects— is knowledge not of the whole, 
 but only of a part of the question with which we deal. 
 These two facts taken together should induce caution, 
 and never permit us to be hurried into condemning an in- 
 stitution, if there are the signs of active life within it. 
 In an age in which rapidity of change and transition are 
 such marked features, an age in which it is the unexpected 
 that happens, all neutrality of mind, irresolution, and in- 
 difference are to be condemned. But, on the other hand, 
 intellectual indecision and tampering with conviction are 
 not the only evils with which we are threatened, nor are 
 their opposites the main virtues in an era of swift transi- 
 tion. When everything is being shaken that can be shaken, 
 it is surely as much the duty of sensible men to hold fast 
 by what has stood the strain of time and the shocks of con- 
 troversy as it is to be ready to abandon that which is pal- 
 pably demonstrated to be worthless. 
 
 The open avowal of opinion, its emphatic declaration if 
 intelligently held, is always welcome ; but, if its issues are 
 in the main destructive, it should be advanced with reserve. 
 It is true that we must speak the truth and do the right 
 "though the heavens should fall." But, then, if we speak 
 the truth and do the right, no such catastrophe will follow, 
 either really or metaphorically. It is true that we must 
 change and progress if we are to continue to live, but we 
 can not move forward wisely if we have no fixed relation 
 both to the past and to the present. 
 
 Whatever our way of dealing with the great problems 
 of human thought, the right relation to the great social and 
 religious oro-anizations of the world is obvious. There are 
 those who place the very existence of a State Church among 
 the agencies "that weaken the vigor of a national con- 
 science, and check the free play and access of intellectual 
 light." Surely, however, they fail to see the conserving 
 
106 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sermon vii. 
 
 and protecting power of historic institutions. A National 
 Church ought to be a reflection of the national character, 
 and an organic growth springing out of that character. It 
 ought, therefore, to tolerate within it many diverse types of 
 thought and of practice, and to rejoice in each as a separate 
 phase of that manifoldness in the unity of which lies the 
 strength of the national character. National Churches have 
 not always done so to an adequate extent. But they have 
 at least done so more adequately than others have done it. 
 It is outside the State Churches, amid the rival jealousies of 
 dissent, that aberrations of dogma and ritual are likely to 
 be greatest, where they have no check from the national 
 conscience, organized in the Church of the State. It is 
 when bodies of men, who might have remained within the 
 national inclosure, are either driven out (from some pecu- 
 liarity of belief or practice) or voluntarily go forth, and 
 separate themselves, forming a new sect or taking indepen- 
 dent root, that they, or their successors, are most likely to 
 develop extremes of opinion and of practice. 
 
 Then, supposing our existing National Churches to be 
 broken up, the result would be neither the abolition of ex- 
 tremes of opinion, nor the unification of religious practice, 
 but the intensification of sect-life, alienation, and jealousy. 
 And why? how may we with confidence predict such a 
 result ? Because the causes which have led to the devel- 
 opment of diverse types of thought and of practice within 
 the Church are permanent ones. They will survive, and 
 create new types in the future ; and, each going on its 
 own way, may give rise to extremes — if not more extrav- 
 agant certainly more unsympathetic — when they are re- 
 leased from the restraints they now experience. They 
 are now controlled, both by the conscious and the uncon- 
 scious influence of the presence of their opposites. It is 
 not the variety within the Church that is to be condemned, 
 for the more variety the greater the life ; it is the want 
 
ENioHT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. jq? 
 
 of toleration, of mutual sympathy, forbearance, and appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 But, lest it be thought that in condemning the spirit 
 that assails institutions, and in magnifying its opposite, 
 there is any depreciation of the aims of our liberal teachers 
 to find out what is true, and to proclaim it, though institu- 
 tions should fall and crumble around them, I would repeat : 
 Let criticism disclose to us more and more the origin of old 
 beliefs, and explain the sources of illusion ; let the laws of 
 the universe and the causes of the rise and fall of systems 
 of opinion be disclosed ; let the habit of correctly weighing 
 evidence, and correctly using words, be taught increasingly ; 
 let all error be tracked out and exposed remorselessly. These 
 things never interfere with what is worthy of life, for it is 
 thus that the leaven of the new ideas is instilled, to work 
 silently in the body corporate, and to mold the thought of 
 the world. But let no revolutionary hand be raised to 
 destroy what has come down to us from the past, to remove 
 the ancient landmarks of a nation's faith and j)iety, lest, in 
 rooting up the tares which unquestionably exist, we root up 
 the wheat along with them. Change of opinion may be 
 salutary and necessary. It may be the sign of life, and its 
 very extent an index and a measure of life. But, surely it 
 is possible for our institutions to live, while our opinions 
 change ; for our social organizations to survive, while our 
 former convictions are outgrown. Our institutions are deep- 
 er than our ojunions, just as the race is wider than the indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 Can we suppose that any future age of enlightenment 
 will be able to dispense with the past, or discard the results 
 of its accumulated experience ? Have our fathers lived in 
 vain, thought in vain, or built up the great structures of the 
 past in vain, for their children's children ? If the advance 
 of knowledge and the widening of experience enable us to 
 see that much in which they trusted is illusory, we can not 
 
108 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [seemon vii. 
 
 dispense with the experience we inherit, from that which 
 the race collectively has outgrown. The child is father of 
 the man, and the youth of the world is creative of its age. 
 As we have still to deal with the same problems with which 
 our predecessors wrestled, we may, on many points, come 
 back to the conclusions of the past, after having moved 
 from them for a time ; and, on many others, we may dis- 
 cover that the new opinion is but the old one ti'ansmuted, 
 reset in a fresh form, and clothed in the vesture or fashion 
 of the day. When we have outgrown the ideas of late 
 years, do we never return to the still earlier conclusions of 
 our youth ? or discover a hitherto unsuspected meaning in 
 what was taught as the first lessons of infant piety ? 
 
 Apply this subject, first, in our estimate of party and 
 party movements ; and, secondly, in the formation of per- 
 sonal habits of modesty, reverence, and humility. 
 
 If you would find out the animating spirit of any party 
 in Church or State, mark its attitude toward the past. Is 
 it reverential ? Is it docile ? Is it conciliatory ? Does it 
 strive to base its forward movements upon the wisdom and 
 experience of the past ? Is it moving on the path of re- 
 form, with its face turned courageously to the future, ready 
 to advance, but with its hand still clinging to the past? 
 Then it is worthy of your esteem. On the contrary, is it 
 noisy, arrogant, self-complaisant ? blind to the wisdom and 
 indifferent to the merits of the past ; blustering in its as- 
 sumptions, and confident of its superiority ? Then it has 
 deprived itself of any title to your esteem, by whatever 
 name it may be known, and on whatever side of the con- 
 ventional party-line it may happen to be standing. If a 
 party, whether in Church or State, is full of the new wine, 
 of revolutionary projects, it is self-condemned. If it is am- 
 bitious to progress, but to progress on the lines of the past, 
 at once wisely liberal and wisely conservative — and in no 
 sense neutral because it shuns the falsehood of extremes — 
 
KNIGHT.] CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. 109 
 
 then it is self-approved and self-attesting. It will be found 
 that every institution shares the fate of the individual leader, 
 and when its novelty is past, and its inevitable defects are 
 seen, agitators arise who clamor for its removal. Others 
 who see beyond the leader, to the Organization which he 
 leads, will seek to reform it from within, and to preserve its 
 life by interior expansion and renovation. 
 
 Then as to individual character and habit. llave you 
 got hold of a new truth ? Hold it modestly, though firmly 
 and with decision. Do not noisily proclaim it from the 
 house-top. Let it silently ally itself with the truths you 
 learned yesterday, and with those which you may live to 
 learn to-morrow ; and, if they all grow up together, each 
 will become more mellow and matured. When you learn 
 any new truth, it is not intended that it shovdd at once de- 
 throne its predecessors. However true it is, it ought never 
 to destroy the truths among which it comes, which have 
 been there before it, and in the light of which you have 
 hitherto lived. Above all, it should never be allowed to 
 become a party watch-cry, or the badge of a narrow-minded 
 activity. Now, one of the chief merits of the conservative 
 spirit, which scruples to assail what has come down to us 
 with the seal and attestation of the past, is that it tends to 
 habits of reverence, humility, and a wise discernment of the 
 less obvious aspects of human duty, both toward institu- 
 tions and individuals. I do not know how we are to attain 
 to that delicacy of soul which the old religious writers 
 called " a tender conscience," but by habits of reverence, 
 scrupulosity, and veneration for all that reaches us from 
 the past, as well as for the fresh revelations of the day. 
 True revei'cnce for the past, for the voice of the Eternal, 
 speaking in past institutions, events, " dispensations," will 
 lead to a deeper reverence for the living Oracles of the pres- 
 ent hour. Reverence for the past, for all that has hitherto 
 revealed the Divine character and ways, will develop in us 
 
110 CONSERVATION AND CHANGE. [sekmon vii. 
 
 that penetration of mind and alertness of soul that are quick 
 to respond to the everlasting Voice, even in its faintest 
 modern echo. Now to him, of whom, through whom, and 
 to whom are all things, be glory, as it was in the beginning, 
 is now, and ever shall be, world without end ! Amen. 
 
KNIGHT. I THE CONTINUITY OF RELIGION. m 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE CONTINUITY AND DEVELOPMENT OF 
 
 EELIGION. 
 
 DY THE RET. PROFESSOU KNIGHT, LL. D., ST. ANDREWS. 
 
 " They shall perish, but thou shalt endure : yea, all of them shall 
 wax old like a garment ; as a vesture shalt thou change them, and 
 they shall be changed : but thou art the same, and thy years shall 
 have no end." — Psalm cii, 26, 27. 
 
 It is singular how often we heai' that the age in which 
 we live is one of transition, and that we are passing through 
 a crisis in religious belief. Doubtless " the old order " has 
 changed, " giving place to new " ; and it is altering, per- 
 haps, more rapidly than at any former period. No opin- 
 ion now passes unchallenged, because of its antiquity ; no 
 tradition is accepted, on the ground of authority ; and, 
 under the searching light of criticism, every belief is forced 
 to show its credentials. There is, in consequence, a wide- 
 spread feeling of unscttlement, as if the mental atmosphere 
 were charged with elecfricity ; and many are afraid lest 
 the result should prove disastrous to religion. It is natural 
 that, when the fire is testing everything, we shoul dendeavor 
 to find out what is and what is not combustible ; and only 
 the ignorant or the callous will neglect to ask whether any 
 of their convictions are of " the asbestus type." 
 
 But is this feature of the day a novel one ? Is it original, 
 or exclusively modern ? It may be a mere illusion of our 
 restlessness, that the characteristics of our age are in any 
 
112 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viii. 
 
 sense exceptional ; as if former times were not also transi- 
 tional, or as if what we call the " crises " of history were 
 not incessant. Every one knows that many things are real 
 which are not realized by us when they occur ; and to one 
 who is even moderately acquainted with the history of 
 opinion it may excite a feeling of surprise to be told that 
 the men of to-day are exceptionally situated, or that in all 
 the turmoil through which we are passing anything very 
 extraordinary has happened. The opinions which men form 
 and express as to the tendencies of their own time are in- 
 deed curiously inconsistent and conflicting. Each one's esti- 
 mate, being a reflection more or less of his own tempera- 
 ment, is to that extent a biased judgment. Some will tell 
 you, for example, that the times are preeminently scientific ; 
 and that, while the sleep of tradition is past, all the knowl- 
 edge and faith of the future must be critically readjusted 
 from its base. Others assure us that we live in very degen- 
 erate days, in an age unearnest and unideal, given over for 
 the most part to the worship of comfort and material pros- 
 perity. Thus, while many depreciate the present — contrast- 
 ing it with the imaginary glories of the past — others exag- 
 gerate its significance and magnify its crisis. It may be, 
 however, that, a century hence, a halo will suiTound this age 
 of ours, similar to that which now lights up the centuries 
 that are gone ; while the supposed crisis we are passing 
 through will seem a singularly small affair in the light of 
 its sequel. 
 
 Be this as it may, it is altogether misleading to suppose 
 that Religion is endangered in the nineteenth century any 
 more than it was in the first. Religion lives now, just as it 
 has always lived. Freed from the accessories which have 
 been so often mistaken for its essence, it is as true now as 
 ever it was. If there be any analogy between the individ- 
 ual and the race, the religion of the world has now reached 
 comparative maturity, and is necessarily stronger than it 
 
KNiauT.] DEVELOPMENT OF HE LI G ION. II3 
 
 was in infancy, or during the period of its youth. Its his- 
 toric origin may be undiscoverable in the past, but we find 
 no period in which it has been absent ; and, during every 
 centuiy that has elapsed, it has struck its root deeper in the 
 soil of human nature, while it has proved itself to be in- 
 digenous to every land. Its history is the history of pro- 
 gressive development, and of continuously unfolding life. 
 Though now assailed in many ways — as it has always been 
 — its most formidable foe is by no means a modern assail- 
 ant. It is neither an antagonistic system, nor an opposing 
 hierarchy. It is not even the tradition that has overlaid it, 
 nor the ''enemy in the household " that has so often de- 
 stroyed its unity, in the strife of party spirit, or the clash 
 of rival doctrines. It is a far subtiler antagonist — one that 
 is neither ancient nor modern, but a tendency permanently 
 present behind the world's religion — associated with all its 
 forms, and working underneath its symbols. This, which I 
 call its most formidable foe, is now spoken of as Agnosti- 
 cism. From it, Religion has more to fear than from any 
 fonn of explicit Atheism ; because it refrains from direct 
 attack — affirming that all the doctrines of religion belong 
 to the sphere of the unknowable. Our modern agnosticism, 
 however, contains nothing that is new, except the name ; 
 and the one great Dogma which it controverts contains 
 nothing that it superannuated. A panic-stricken age is apt 
 to forget that Criticism has always existed side by side with 
 the Religion which it has endeavored to test, and which it 
 has perhaps protected as much as it has assailed. It is con- 
 stantly forgotten that our predecessors felt the limits of the 
 knowable quite as truly as we do ; and that the same intel- 
 lectual puzzles, the same moral difficulties with Avhich we 
 are familiar, pressed upon the general mind of the race two 
 thousand years ago, without extinguishing its reverence or 
 destroying the worship of the Invisible. Neither our faith 
 nor our doubt are things of yesterday. In every age Reli- 
 
114 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon thi. 
 
 gion has found a home in human consciousness, and in the 
 face of all denial it has won for itself a sanctuary in human 
 life. In every age also criticism has demolished some of 
 the frameworks built around religion, which their authors 
 fancied were part of its essence. But the breaking up of 
 these frameworks has never injured the soul or spirit of 
 devotion. On the contrary, it has set it free, giving it op- 
 portunity for new departures, to prove its immortality by 
 development in fresh directions. Religious intuition never 
 dies. Its activity is spontaneous and unceasing : while the 
 labor of the understanding, working along with the spirit- 
 ual instincts, invariably builds up some fresh scaffolding of 
 dogma, which posterity destroys. 
 
 Two things, however, seem to excite periodic apprehen- 
 sion, and to suggest, from time to time, the instability of 
 religion. The one is the possibility of explaining its origin 
 by tracing its development, and detecting its presence even 
 in the most rudimentary ideas and practices of the world. 
 The other is the obscurity and ultimate mystery of the cen- 
 tral dogma, on which religion rests. We shall look at these 
 two things in succession. 
 
 As to the first, I have said that modern criticism does 
 not assail religious belief. It only endeavors to explain it 
 by tracing its ancestry and showing us the root whence it 
 has sprung ; by pointing out " the rock out of which it has 
 been hewn," and " the pit whence it has been digged." 
 But this explanation of origin is supposed to discredit the 
 originality of what has thus been evolved, reducing it from 
 a position of supremacy to that of one among a host of com- 
 petitors, which have wrestled together for ages, and which 
 still struggle for the homage of mankind. The truth or the 
 falsehood of any particular opinion, however, is not depen- 
 dent on the way in which it has come to light, or the stages 
 of development through which it has passed, or on the pre- 
 cise point which at length it may have reached. It may 
 
KsiouT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. 1J5 
 
 have attained its present form by a process of very gradual 
 growth, or by a rapid and apparently sudden disclosure. 
 In both cases it may have equal evidence in its favor ; and 
 a doctrine may be proved to be true, either by an immedi- 
 ate demonstration of the reason, or by the continuous assent 
 of the ages. It may have the evidence of a first principle, or 
 it may be guaranteed by experience — i. e., by the constancy 
 with which the instincts of mankind return to it, and the 
 tenacity with which they cling to it. 
 
 It does not, therefore, follow that, if we can explain the 
 origin of a particular belief, by tracing its parentage and 
 finding that it has sprung from inferior elements, the valid- 
 ity of the belief itself is in the slightest degree imperiled. 
 Nay, it is indisputable that, if the human mind has grown 
 at all, its religious convictions — like everything else belong- 
 ing to it — must have changed. Our remote ancestors could 
 not possibly have had the same religion as ourselves, any 
 more than they could have had the same physiognomy, the 
 same social customs, or the same language. Thus, the in- 
 tuitions of subsequent ages must necessarily have become 
 keener and clearer — at once more rational and more spiritual 
 — than the instincts of primeval days ; the clearness, the 
 intelligence, and the spirituality being due to a vast num- 
 ber of conspiring causes. And, if the opinions and the 
 practices of the race thus change, the change is due to no 
 accident or caprice, but to the orderly processes of natural 
 law. It can not be otherwise ; because, since no human be- 
 lief springs up miraculously, none can be maintained in the 
 form in which it arises for any length of time. Tlius, the 
 " increasing purpose " of the ages must inevitably bring to 
 the front fresh modifications of belief. If our theoloiries 
 have all grown out of something very different, why should 
 we fear their continued growth ? "Why should any rational 
 theist dread the future expansion of theistic belief? If it 
 has grown, it must continue to grow ; and many of its ex- 
 
116 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viu. 
 
 isting phases must disappear. The controversies of our 
 time are the phases of its evolution. But is it now so very 
 perfect that we would wish it to remain stationary at its 
 present point of development ? that its present phases should 
 be permanent ? May w^e not rather rejoice that " these all 
 shall wax old as a garment," and that " as a vesture they 
 shall be changed " ; while the Object — of which they are 
 the interpretation, or which they try to represent — endures, 
 and of its immortality there shall be no end ? It may even 
 be affirmed that one of the best features in every human 
 belief is its elasticity, that one sign of its vitality is its 
 amenability to change. Were it irrevocably fixed it would 
 have some secret affinity with death and the grave. Para- 
 doxical, therefore, as it may seem, if religion be among the 
 things that can not be shaken, it must change. Its forms 
 must die that its spirit may live ; and the condition of the 
 permanence of the latter is the perpetual vicissitude of the 
 former. Curious it is, that some of its most ardent advo- 
 cates can not recognize it under a new dress, that even its 
 disciples misconstrue it when it changes its raiment. They 
 think it a foe if it is differently appareled. But how often, 
 in all human controversy, the combatants are merely speak- 
 ing different dialects, while they mean the same thing! 
 How often they are essentially at one, if only they knew it ! 
 But, granting that the opinion of the world is an organic 
 whole, that all human conviction— with its present variety 
 and complexity— has grown out of very lowly roots, and 
 that our most sacred beliefs have emerged from others that 
 are different, a further and a far more important question 
 lies behind this admission. It is this : How are we to in- 
 terpret the whole series from beginning to end ? It is not 
 enough to say that there has been progress ; what meaning 
 are we to attach to the term progress ? Are we to think of 
 it as simple succession and accumulation, the mere addition 
 of new links to a chain of development ? We know that 
 
KNIGHT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. 117 
 
 men " rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher 
 things," and that the " individual withers, while the race is 
 more and more " ; but do the individuals and their beliefs 
 only resemble beads which have been strung on a thread of 
 endlessly developing succession? What has the race been 
 doing during all this onward process of development ? and 
 has it at every stage been the victim of continuous illusion ? 
 Or, has it all the while been in closest contact with Reality, 
 a reality which it partially understands, and interprets to 
 good purpose ? In other words, is the history of religious 
 ideas merely the record of attempts made by men to project 
 their own image outward, to throw their thought around 
 an impalpable object, which it has never yet been able to 
 grasp ? or, is it the story of successive efforts, more and more 
 successful, to explain a Reality which transcends it, but 
 to which it stands in a definite and ascertainable relation ? 
 Do the gropings of experience in the matters of religion 
 record a long and weary search, with no discovery reward- 
 ing it ? or are they the efforts of human apprehension to real- 
 ize the divine, to get at the " last clear elements of things," 
 with disclosure at every stage, and a steady approach to the 
 goal which is continually sought and approximately reached ? 
 I think it is past controversy that if the religious education 
 of the human race has been a purely subjective process, if 
 it has been merely an upward tendency of aspiration, it is 
 now no nearer its goal than ever it was. If we can only 
 approach the Infinite by the journeyings of finite thought, 
 or through sighs and cries of aspiration, the journey that 
 way is endless, and the end is nowhere visible. But may we 
 not find the object everywhere? may not the discovery have 
 been as continuous as the search ? and the two be simulta- 
 neous now ? I think we may affirm that the human race 
 has lived in the light of a never-ceasing apocalypse, grow- 
 ing clearer through the ages, but never absent from the 
 world since the first age began. 
 
118 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viri. 
 
 And may we not also affirm as equally indisputable that 
 it can not now get quit of its belief in the Divine ? that this 
 conviction is a permanent element in its consciousness — I 
 mean in the organic consciousness of the world? It has 
 always been easy to controvert the statement that theism 
 is, in one form or another, native to the human mind, that 
 we can not divest ourselves of it. Facts are quoted against 
 us. An array of statistics is produced to show many blank 
 spaces in the religious annals of the race — long periods in 
 which the belief has been absent, and entire races in which 
 it is now inoperative. But, if our former contention has any 
 force, that the belief itself has passed through a vast number 
 of phases, its absence maybe merely apparent. If the laws 
 of hereditary descent apply to religion as well as to lan- 
 guage, to theological belief as well as to natural character 
 and temperament, the continuity may be real while the gen- 
 ealogy is hidden. The assertion that theistic belief is in- 
 nate is often travestied into the statement that the human 
 mind can not rid itself of some special theological doctrine, 
 or theory of the divine nature. But the assertion is a very 
 different and a much deeper one. It is that the intuition 
 which gives rise to these doctrines remains, and that, when 
 our superstructures of theory are overthrown, a surviving 
 instinct builds them up again, or replaces them by others 
 that are bettei*. 
 
 "We must vindicate this assertion by explaining it a little 
 further. The word religion has undergone many remark- 
 able changes, alternately widening and contracting in pop- 
 ular use and wont ; now involving less, and again including 
 more, as the religious instincts themselves have narrowed 
 or enlarged. Thus, the definitions of religion have been 
 very various ; and they may all contain some element of 
 truth, while none are exhaustive. Probably we expect too 
 much from definitions. It may be impossible to express the 
 essence of religion either in a proposition or through a sym- 
 
KNIGHT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. UQ 
 
 bol or a ceremony. It may be too ethereal for analysis, too 
 delicate for our intellectual balances ; but, if it escapes our 
 frames of theory and defies all logical manipulation, that 
 will be no proof of its inferiority, but rather a sign of its 
 divineness. 
 
 Recall, then, some of the definitions of Religion offered 
 for our acceptance. Suppose we say, with one, that it takes 
 its rise in the sense of Dependence ; or, with another, that 
 it springs out of the consciousness of inward Freedom ; with 
 a third, that it is the apprehension of Power beyond the 
 individual — suggested by the phenomena which control or 
 the forces which subdue him ; with a fourth, that it is the 
 apprehension of the Infinite, encircling the finite, yet re- 
 vealed within it ; or, with a fifth, that it is Morality subli- 
 mated, touched Avith emotion ; with another, that it is that 
 rational Insight which discerns the underlying essence and 
 the fundamental unity of things, bringing man into har- 
 mony with himself and with the universe ; with a seventh, 
 that it is the pursuit of the Ideal, " the strong and earnest 
 direction of the emotions toward an ideal object recognized 
 as of the highest excellence, and rightly paramount over all 
 selfish objects of desire " ; or, with yet another, that it is 
 homage offered at the shrine of humanity, but directed to 
 that other self, higher and wider than our individual selves, 
 that divine Humanity, that human Divinity, in which we 
 live and move and have our being. All these attempts to 
 define its essence, and to express it in a theory, may be help- 
 ful to us more or less. They may be useful and fruitful in 
 many ways. Religious thought and life have together as- 
 sumed so many forms that we can not wonder at the variety 
 of the definitions given. 
 
 But is it possible to find anything common, in all the 
 religions of the world, which is a specific element in each 
 of them, or a feature underlying them all ? I think it is ; 
 although, in every instance, it may present a twofold aspect. 
 
120 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viii. 
 
 As on the one hand a faculty or tendency of the human 
 soul, and on the other the recognition of an object, it has 
 always two sides, an inner and an outer. Call the former 
 a faculty, or a capacity, or a tendency, it matters not. It 
 is, in any case, a real element in human consciousness, a 
 permanent power of apprehension, half intellectual and half 
 emotive. But it is not enough merely to discover and to 
 vindicate its existence as an inward tendency of the human 
 soul. Every such tendency has an objective side that is 
 quite as significant as the subjective. If it is a power of 
 apprehension, we must ascertain what it apprehends. In all 
 cases this is an Object, external to the individual, definitely 
 related to him ; and, although very varioixsly construed, it 
 is recognized — both in the elementary and in the more ad- 
 vanced stages of religion — as having elements of kindred- 
 ness with his own nature. Even in its subjective side, 
 religion is not the mere opening of the floodgates of emo- 
 tion toward the unknown and the unknowable — emotion 
 awakened by the simple sense of mystery. It is also the in- 
 tellectual recognition and the moral discernment of an Ob- 
 ject. No theory of religion, which omits this fact, is com- 
 plete or satisfactory. It meets us at every stage in the path 
 of development. The records of religious history invari- 
 ably disclose some effort of the human mind to penetrate 
 further into the mystery of things, both by thought and by 
 feeling, to rise higher in the apprehension of the Infinite, 
 to descend deeper toward the eternal ground of things — in 
 other words, not only to feel the overshadowing mystery, 
 but also to perceive the light that is within it. But, always 
 associated with the effort to apprehend this object, there is a 
 corresponding disclosure of the object itself. Divine reve- 
 lation is accomplished simply by a removal of the things 
 which had previously obscured the object it reveals. It 
 does not bring the latter any nearer to us. It merely draws 
 aside the veil, which had prevented the human eye from 
 
KNIGHT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. 121 
 
 seeing it ; enabling us to perceive what Lad been always 
 present, but not always recognized. Thus, in all religion, 
 there is first a subjective state of human thought and feel 
 ing ; next, the recognition of an external object ; and, last- 
 ly, the discernment of that object in the act of revealing 
 itself. 
 
 Try now to go back, imaginatively and sympathetically, 
 to the rudest primitive age ; think, for example, of our 
 forefathers, in the gray morning of the world's religion, 
 engaged at their tree and serpent worship. They heard the 
 wind moaning mysteriously in the forest, while they saw 
 the ti'ee arise mysteriously from the ground. They ob- 
 served its life come forth in the summer and retire in win- 
 ter. They saw the serpent crawling mysteriously on the 
 ground, by a power they could not understand ; and in 
 both cases were they awed in the presence of the mystery. 
 What was exceptional and unintelligible excited wonder, 
 and led to acts of homage. And, although the race has 
 long outgrown the habit, the savage who first called upon 
 his fellows to worship the tree — as a symbol of the mystery 
 of growth — was really a prophet of religious ideas ; quite 
 as truly as, though much. less articulately than, the found- 
 ers of maturer faiths. If you consider the blank animal 
 life out of which the former arose, in the long process of 
 development, you will see bow great was the advance 
 which such a primitive worshiper made. 
 
 The sense of mystery in individual objects, such as the 
 tree or serpent, yielded by degrees to the wider and grander 
 feeling of a mystery in Nature, as a whole : and the highest 
 religion ends, not in an exhaustive explanation of things, 
 but in a partial uplifting of the veil which only serves to 
 disclose the wide horizon of the unknown. Pass over in- 
 termediate phases, and come down to its later develop- 
 ments. Our conviction of the Divine Fatherhood, for ex- 
 ample, is immeasurably higher than that of the primitive 
 G 
 
122 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon vm. 
 
 savage, because we find a far loftier idea lodged within 
 that symbol than any to which the savage mind attained. 
 But our symbol does not exhaust the thing it symbolizes. 
 No analogy, figure, or metaphor casts more than a dubious 
 light on the object which it represents. A symbol is in 
 fact merely a ladder, by which we ascend from the ground 
 of the material, but which we must in every instance cast 
 aside when we pass to the sphere of the ideal and the 
 spiritual. Thus, while there has been a gradual uprise of 
 human apprehension in matters of religion, the mysterious- 
 ness of the Object apprehended has always made our expla- 
 nations partial, and our definitions incomplete. Our pres- 
 ent modes of thought regarding it are not ultimate. They 
 will not suffice for our descendants, who may leave many 
 of our symbols behind them, as we have abandoned those 
 of a primitive and prehistoric past. But religion itself 
 will not be left behind. Religion itself is deathless, be- 
 cause it is the outcome of a permanent tendency, and the 
 satisfaction of an ineradicable want of human nature. It is 
 indestructible, because it is the embodiment of a spiritual 
 instinct, which survives in the general heart of the race ; 
 and which, if it ever seems to die, is immediately raised 
 again from the dead, and lives on through a thousand 
 changes. 
 
 If humanity stands in living relation to a Revealer, who 
 is omnipresent and always communicative, the Christian 
 revelation — in the light of which we are now living — is but 
 the continuation and development of that which primitive 
 worshipers enjoyed, in humbler manner and in lower form. 
 Neither they nor we " can by searching find out God," or 
 understand the Eternal as He is. We all have seen, through 
 a glass darkly, the glory of the Infinite ; but, between our 
 purely animal ancestors and the savage who was first sub- 
 dued by the glory of the sky and the mystery of life, there 
 was an interval as great as that which separates the latter 
 
NNiGiiT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. 123 
 
 from ourselves. In the whole process there has been revela- 
 tion, the unveiling of secret things to hearts that were open 
 and recipient. In all, there has been inspiration, at sundry 
 times and in diverse manners, continuous, incessant, univer- 
 sal. All the stages of religious history have been graduated 
 — all are continuous ; and if to the eye of omniscience there 
 is as much meaning in the Beed as in the flower, there was a 
 spiritual significance in the earliest gropings of the world's 
 remotest childhood, as well as in those of the raaturest 
 worshipers of Christendom. Do we not see as much in the 
 lispings of our children, and watch their infantile appre- 
 hensions with as keen an interest as we talce in the judg- 
 ments of full-grown men ? And can we suppose that the 
 common Father of us all was less interested in the guesses 
 of our remote barbaric ancestors than He is in ours ? May 
 we not rather say historically, that out of the mouth of the 
 babes and sucklings of the world's religion He has perfected 
 praise ? 
 
 If our belief in the continuity of religion were more vivid, 
 it would allay much of the panic and religious distraction 
 that prevail. To a great extent this is due to our making 
 religion too complex and artificial. If its essential simplicity 
 were realized, its perpetuity would be apparent. We need 
 to get quit of the illusion of seeking the living among the 
 dead, of mistaking words for things. We need to get to 
 the solid ground of reality, and then to lift our eyes to the 
 eternal background that enfolds it, and the Supernatural 
 will be discerned by us, as within the natural everywhere ; 
 not as an occasional force, sent down irregularly into the 
 rents or fisstires of nature, but as the inmost life of whatso- 
 ever is, or was, or yet shall be. 
 
 Whatever of its ancient strongholds religion may be 
 compelled to surrender before the advance of criticism, this 
 it will never give up ; but, standing upon it, will compel 
 the homage of the future. We may have to surrender the 
 
124 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viii. 
 
 notion of creation out of nothing, the notion of creatures 
 leaping on the stage of being, full formed, unevolved. We 
 may have to abandon the idea of Divine energy slumbering 
 for an infinity of ages, then becoming suddenly and stupen- 
 dously active, again taking rest, and again awakening by 
 fits and starts to action. We may find it derogatory to the 
 notion of Deity to imagine that, as one asleep, He started 
 up after an eternity of silence to work and sleep again. 
 We may have to renounce the notion of a worker overcom- 
 ing difficulties, devising and designing things after a human 
 pattern, as one unworthy of the Infinite and the Omniscient. 
 All our symbolic thoughts and Avord-pictures will more and 
 more be seen to be inadequate, because, the moment the 
 mind attempts to think of them as adequate, they vanish 
 from its grasp. But no illusion of tradition will ever dis- 
 enchant the mind of the belief that the Infinite is for ever 
 revealing himself, that " God's great completeness flows 
 around our incompleteness, round our restlessness liis rest " ; 
 that God is within us as well as without, the soul of our 
 souls, the life of our lives, the substantial Self that underlies 
 the surface evanescent self. And it is one glory of the 
 Christian religion that it has developed a new conviction of 
 the neai'ness of God to man, their kindredness, their reci- 
 procity, their relations of intimacy and fellowship. It has 
 given rise to emotions more tender, intense, and reverential 
 than were ever felt before, by its twin doctrines of the 
 knowableness and the unknowableness of God ; or, as I 
 have already said, by its recognition of abiding mystery, 
 and of the light that is within the mystery. God recognized 
 as the interior essence of all things, the substance of all 
 reality, revealing himself through all phenomena which are 
 " the garment we see him by." If the finite for ever reveals 
 the Infinite, the universe may from everlasting have lived 
 and moved and had its being in God ; and our humanity — 
 poor as we all feel it to be — is not cut off from the Univer- 
 
KNIGHT.] DEVELOPMENT OF EELIGION. 125 
 
 sal Life by reason of our individuality and separateness 
 from other things. Personality is not a fence dividing us 
 from that Life, but only a fence which separates us from 
 one another. Nay, at the core of our being we do not, and 
 can not, feel separated from one another, because we are 
 one in relation to that Life. It is only on the surface that 
 we are apart : in the deepest depths we are one. 
 
 So far, we have considered the first of the two causes 
 which excite periodic apprehension, and seem — but only 
 seem — to threaten the stability of religion. 
 
 The second, which remains, may be dealt with more 
 briefly. It is the obscurity and ultimate mystery on which 
 the one great dogma of religion rests. That it should be 
 difficult to prove the most radical truth pertaining to re- 
 ligion is perplexing enough. If the Divine Existence be 
 the suj^reme reality within the universe, how, it is asked, 
 should the human mind ever miss its evidence, or fail to 
 realize it ? Why is the stupendous fact not flashed in upon 
 the soul on every side, with indubitable force, so as to 
 produce an overmastering conviction ? Should not the 
 greatest truth be the most steadily luminous and self-attest- 
 ing ? equal in its obviousness, at least to the phenomena of 
 natui'e, or the laws of mathematics ? Why, in other words, 
 it may be asked, should clouds and darkness surround a 
 Nature that is, in its inmost essence, light ? 
 
 In answer, this last peculiarity may be sometimes due 
 to a defect in the eye of the beholder. God may be light, 
 and in him may be no darkness at all, but the light may 
 shine in the darkness of our natures, while " the darkness 
 comprehends it not." An explanation may be found in the 
 characteristics of our own optic nerve — just as many of us 
 are morally color-blind. Again, the atmosphere which sur- 
 rounds us may be so dull and cloudy that the light can not 
 penetrate it. Both our moral and our social state at times 
 project a shadow far beyond themselves. But there may 
 
126 THE CONTINUITY AND [sermon viii. 
 
 be other reasons additional to these, springing out of the 
 very nature of the case, and the course of education we are 
 passing through. If we lived in the cloudless light, the 
 conditions of moral discipline would be very different from 
 what they now are. If all religious truths were as obvious 
 as those of science, there would be no room for spiritual 
 trust ; and our moral life would become a process of me- 
 chanical development. If the "doubt, hesitation, and 
 pain," to which our best achievements are due, disappeared, 
 the achievements themselves might cease to be. Nay, if 
 we lived in the light, alone and always, we might see the 
 Divine object, without perceiving it : we might hear its 
 voice, without recognizing it. But with light and darkness 
 intermingled and successive, with glimpses of the object 
 seen through the openings of the cloud which close again 
 and conceal it, we are in a region of experience, in which 
 the discipline of trust is rendered possible, and the ventures 
 of faith are realized. Thus, what we sometimes think an 
 obstacle to faith may be an aid to our vision of Reality. 
 And if it be so, all the variety in our interpretation of that 
 Reality — the different conclusions of our different theolo- 
 gies — may be merely due to the particular angle at which 
 the light reaches the eye of the beholder, to the point at 
 which the cloud has broken, and the way in which it has 
 disclosed the Object behind it. 
 
 With this conceded, we may be in a position to see how 
 the theistic solution helps us, in the presence of the mystery 
 which remains, after all our solutions have been given. That 
 the theistic explanation of the world is bordered round 
 about with difficulty is admitted by every one, who has 
 thought to any purpose on the question. But, then, all our 
 knowledge — even the most luminous portion of it — recedes, 
 at the last, into the unknowable ; and no conceivable reve- 
 lation, in this or any other condition of existence, reaching 
 us from any imaginable quarter, could enable us to under- 
 
KNIGHT.] DEVELOPMENT OF RELIGION. 127 
 
 stand " all mysteries and all knowledge." Under its most 
 ample disclosures, we should but stand as now, on a little 
 sunlit promontory, with the immeasurable ocean before us, 
 and the horizon of our knowledge would still be girdled by 
 a line of mystery. But, then, the theistic doctrine does not 
 leave us baffled before the enigmas which it recognizes. 
 We are neither intellectually prostrate nor morally helpless 
 before them, because it supplies us with a key, which par- 
 tially unlocks the mystery. It gives us at least a definite, 
 coherent, and rational explanation of things ; while it 
 leaves a score of puzzles unexplained. If it lightens " the 
 burden of the mystery " — which still remains to elevate the 
 worship it evokes — that surely is much. If it keeps our 
 puzzles in the background of intellectual experience, and 
 does not suffer them to obtrude upon the forefront of the 
 moral life, that surely is more. If it turns the unceasing 
 sense of mystery into a solemn discipline in reverence, that 
 assuredly is most of all, to us who see everything through 
 a glass darkly. If the darkness which may be felt mod- 
 erates our confidence, and checks dogmatic arrogance, the 
 light that is associated with it elicits our enthusiasm, and 
 inspires us with new hope. It forbids despondency. It 
 rouses us from listlessness to earnest life and trustful en- 
 deavor. We have at least some light to guide us ; and, 
 while we wish we had more of it, we are grateful for what 
 we have. Thus, walking in the light, to the upright it 
 ariseth, " shining more and more unto the perfect day." 
 
128 TEE LAW OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE LAW OF MOEAL COXTmUITY. 
 
 BY THE RET. WILLIAM MACKINTOSH, D. D., EIACHSAN. 
 
 " Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.'' — Gal. vi, 7. 
 
 Iif the sphere of practical religion, there is no more far- 
 reaching nor more controlling principle than that here laid 
 down by St. Paul. Like most other great principles, it ad- 
 mits of being placed in many lights, and expressed in many 
 forms. Popularly, it is spoken of as the doctrine of the 
 spiritual harvest ; in ethical science as that of the continu- 
 ity of the moral life. It is the doctrine that every action, 
 good or bad, confirms and perpetuates the disposition from 
 which it springs : that the life hereafter will correspond to 
 the life here : that the reward or punishment, which comes 
 home to us inevitably, instead of being fixed by arbitrary 
 decree, is but the natural consequence of our well or ill do- 
 ing ; and that our future grows out of our present, just as 
 a plant out of the seed, while our present is but the fruit 
 or summation of all our past life. 
 
 In speaking of the continuity of the individual life, it is 
 not necessary to take into account the cognate fact that 
 the life of the individual is more or less influenced by the 
 lives of past generations, and is, indeed, to a great extent, 
 their product. That involvement of the spirit in the flesh, 
 and that bias toward egotism — the sources of evil — which 
 mark the starting-point of the moral development of the 
 individual, and which, on psychological, altogether apart 
 
MACKINTOSH.J THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. 129 
 
 from dogmatic grounds, Ave take to be a plienoracnon of the 
 child's life, are no doubt largely modified from that source ; 
 but the developed form of evil in the parents does not reap- 
 pear in the child. Its moral life is not a continuation of 
 theirs, and does not begin where theirs left off, but takes 
 a fresh start, a new departure for itself. At the most, the 
 ancestral evil only appeal's in germ in the child, and gives 
 concreteness to the otherwise abstract point from which the 
 development of the individual life would take its depar- 
 ture. It seems to us, therefore, that the influence of an- 
 cestral good or evil does not import any additional complex- 
 ity into this subject, and may be left by us out of sight. 
 
 The doctrine of the text throws light upon the nature of 
 human responsibility, as well as upon the mode of Divine 
 judgment. A man may be said to bear his own burden, 
 and to be responsible for himself, just because he reaps 
 what he has sown ; and God may be said to execute judg- 
 ment by the natural operation of this same law of reaping 
 and sowing. It is not by connecting physical and social 
 evil with that which is moral that God can be said to de- 
 cree righteous judgment, inasmuch as there is no exact cor- 
 respondence between these two forms of evil, that which is 
 physical being in no way commensurable with that which 
 is moral. The relation, whatever it may be, in which, by 
 Divine arrangement, these two are actually placed to each 
 other, is not arbitrary, just because nothing is arbitrary in 
 the Divine government, but, so far as purposes of judgment 
 are concerned, is disciplinary, economical, and apparently 
 provisional. "We can not so much as form a conception of 
 a finite world in which pain and evil do not exist ; and, 
 though sin has a tendency to aggravate the evil, and draw 
 it down upon itself, yet this tendency is only general and 
 indeterminate, so that the evil does not infallibly and inva- 
 riably find out the sinner himself. He may escape all or 
 most of the subsidiary effects of his sin, which may overtake 
 
130 THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix. 
 
 not himself, but his innocent children or neighbors. His 
 frauds may not come to light. By the use of remedial 
 measures, or in virtue of a vigorous constitution, he may 
 never feel the bad effects of intemperance. His station in 
 society may give him impunity in crime. A great moralist 
 has said that there is almost no calamity from which a man 
 may not extricate himself, in part or in whole, by plunging 
 more deeply into the spiritual evil by which he incurred the 
 risk of it. The spiritual consequences are the only ones 
 Avhich can never be escaped, except by repentance and 
 amendment, which, in their turn, have no virtue to revoke 
 the temporal and physical effects which sin has incurred. 
 It is by suffering men to reap — in the taint or hue which it 
 impresses on the texture of the soul ; in the formation and 
 bias of the inmost character — the very evil which they have 
 sown, not a different kind of evil, that God, the Judge of 
 all the earth, may be said to do what is absolutely right, 
 and to render to every man according to his deeds. If there 
 be a punishment of sin additional to this, it will consist 
 chiefly in the inward misery and self -dissatisfaction caused 
 by a perception of the growing interval between what we 
 are and what we should be ; and of the opposition in which 
 we are placed to an eternal order on which we are yet ab- 
 solutely dependent. 
 
 The recognition of the principle here laid down is not 
 an element or dogma distinctive of Christianity, or of posi- 
 tive religion generally. On the contrary, it may claim to 
 be regarded as an element oi natural religion, whose evi- 
 dence is not, it may be, an instinct of the religious con- 
 sciousness, but is derived more properly from experience. 
 It is a fact or principle, moreover, which even the widest 
 experience could have revealed only to a deep spiritual in- 
 sight, to an eye that could penetrate to things not seen. 
 For, as we have just implied, good and evil are unequally 
 and partially distributed in that world of sense which is open 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. \^i 
 
 to common observation ; and " it is in the world of spirit 
 only that every one receives his due," in that world which, 
 to most of us, is veiled in impenetrable mystery, though it 
 lies all about us. 
 
 We do not pause to reflect how largely this principle 
 falls in with one of the grandest generalizations of modern 
 science : viz., that every force propagates itself under the 
 same or some other form ; that no action fails to produce 
 its adequate effect ; and that, in the physical and social 
 worlds alike, there are no abrupt or violent transitions, but 
 everywhere progress of connected growth — a conservation 
 and interaction of forces, moral as well as physical. Just 
 on account of this coincidence, the mind of the present day 
 may probably be prepared to ascribe to this principle a 
 theological range and importance greater than has been as- 
 cribed to it hitherto. It is more pertinent to state that, in 
 almost all ages, some minds have been able to come upon 
 the traces of this principle, without the aid either of scien- 
 tific investigation or of external revelation. Hints of an 
 acquaintance with it have been left on record in varied lan- 
 guage, by the poets and philosophers of heathen lands, and 
 by ancient founders of religion and lawgivers, who owed 
 nothing to such sources of knowledge. 
 
 The tendency of crime to generate new crime was one 
 of the great themes of Greek tragedy, and was recognized 
 as the true curse and penalty of crime — as the most tragic 
 element of life. Four hundred years before the Christian 
 era, one of the great dramatists expresses the idea that there 
 is nothing arbitrary, nothing partial, in the judgment of 
 God, but that all is according to law and justice. " He that 
 deviseth mischief is overtaken by mischief." " While God 
 reigns the law holds good that, what a man does, that he 
 also suffers." At a later period, we find the greatest of 
 Greek philosophers expressing the idea that the penalty of 
 injustice is not " death nor stripesT* but the fatal necessity 
 
132 THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix. 
 
 of becoming moi'e and more unjust. These remarkable 
 utterances, and many like them scattered through the writ- 
 ings of classical antiquity, record the impression, made by 
 experience, on that remote age ; and show that men were 
 reaching forth as by premonition to the truth of which St. 
 Paul afterward laid hold. The meaning is substantially the 
 same : viz., that a man's principle of action is what deter- 
 mines his fate ; and that he falls under the operation of 
 that law, whether of love or hatred, by which he elects to 
 regulate his life. 
 
 If we go back to an age somewhat more remote than 
 that in which the poet formulated the doctrine of Nemesis, 
 we come upon the founder of one of the three principal re- 
 ligions now existing, who seems to have been inspired to 
 his great enterprise mainly by his marvelously keen per- 
 ception of the eternal law which rules the destinies of men ; 
 the law of recompense, or, as it has been called, " the indis- 
 soluble chain of cause and effect in the moral world, ac- 
 cording to which, the blessing of every good act, and the 
 curse of every bad act, pursues the soul in the whole course 
 of its wanderings, as a shadow follows the body." Buddha 
 had, it is evident, a profound insight into the fact that the 
 individual in every moment of his existence is substan- 
 tially nothing else than the fruit or product of his former 
 deeds. He held that the fate of the individual depends in 
 no resjDect on the decree of higher powers, but is the conse- 
 quence of his own acts — the fruit of his own sowing. The 
 only salvation, or means of salvation, for man, which he 
 knew of, was the extirpation of selfishness and the conquest 
 of sensuality. " To cease from all evil, to practice all good, 
 and to subjugate the passions : this, according to an ancient 
 formula, was the doctrine of Buddha." Recognizing the 
 existence of the law to which we are referring, the problem 
 for which he sought the solution was to devise " a pathway 
 of salvation" adapted to it, without taking any account 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LAW OF MORAL CONTINUITY. 133 
 
 whatever of a supreme lawgiver, or acknowledging the 
 need of help or mediation of any kind. Fantastic as was 
 much of his religious system — if that could be called re- 
 ligion which was without God and without faith, except 
 perhaps in the nature of man — yet the fact that, in utter 
 sincerity, he founded his plan of salvation upon this doc- 
 trine, shows how firm was his grasp of it. 
 
 In the Old Testament, especially in some of the Psalms, 
 in the Proverbs, and in the Book of Job, there occur some 
 distant approximations to the same great idea. The author 
 of the latter book is seen to be groping for a solution of the 
 riddle presented by the calamities which often overtake the 
 righteous. The ideas current in his time upon the subject 
 do not satisfy him. Instead of regarding calamity as neces- 
 sarily a punishment of sin, open or secret, he tells us in his 
 prologue that adversity may befall the good man as a test 
 and trial of his integrity, but that in the end his integrity 
 is vindicated, as we see in the epilogue. Manifestly, how- 
 ever, this solution does not tally with experience ; and the 
 riddle can only be solved by taking into consideration, that, 
 apart from sin, calamity is of small account, and that the 
 real punishment of sin is the degradation which it stamps 
 upon the soul : that sin itself is the true evil, the real dis- 
 ease of the soul for which there is no comfort, and no com- 
 pensation ; while over every other form of evil, the upright 
 soul may elevate itself in triumph, and make it ministrant 
 of good. Unable to reach this solution, the author after 
 many attempts sinks back bafiled, and brings his drama to 
 a conclusion, in which little' else can be seen than a confes- 
 sion that the riddle is insoluble, and that his speculations 
 have led to no result, but have just brought him back to 
 the point from which he started — a proof that, with all the 
 glow of his genius, and the fervor of his emotion, his 
 insight and inspiration fell much short of that to which 
 Buddha attained. 
 
134 THE LAW OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sekmon ix. 
 
 We may take for granted, then, that the knowledge of 
 this principle may be and has been arrived at independently 
 of any external revelation. And we now add that it under- 
 lies Christianity, as much as does the existence and unity 
 of God, or any other article of natural religion. It is a part 
 of that foundation which can not be shaken or removed 
 by any subsequent revelation. We feel that here we touch 
 the solid ground of fact ; that here we have one test, in ad- 
 dition to many others, by which we may try the claims and 
 check the extravagances of any dogma, or system of dog- 
 mas ; and that we should be justified in bending or modi- 
 fying into agreement with it any creed which may other- 
 wise have claims upon our reverence. 
 
 St. Paul does not advance the doctrine under the seal of 
 apostolic authority, nor say that he has received it in the 
 way of supernatural illumination. He appeals for its truth 
 to our rational nature, and to experience, though not the ex- 
 perience of every day. He evidently regards it as a truth, 
 which, however attained, yet, being once stated, can hardly 
 be questioned. He presumes that we must all feel with him, 
 that there is an analogy between the world of nature and of 
 spirit : that the one is but the tyjDe and shadow of the other ; 
 and that the great spiritual law which connects our past with 
 our present, and our present with our future state, is but 
 an application or department of one of those great general 
 laws which run through all existence. Partly through ex- 
 perience, partly through inward discernment, we come to 
 understand that there is a spiritual as well as a natural 
 husbandry ; and that, when we speak of a spiritual harvest, 
 our language is more than a figure of speech : it is an anal- 
 ogy, which, in view of the unity and harmony which per- 
 vade the universe, carries in it the force of demonstration. 
 
 Here, then, we have the great law by operation of which 
 God executes judgment : the law of moral sequence, by 
 which an effect corresponds to its cause in the moral as in 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. I35 
 
 the physical and natural world ; the law by which we pro- 
 ceed from less to more, whether of good or evil ; the order 
 by which good action leads to greater good, and evil action 
 to greater evil ; the principle which insures that it shall be 
 well with the righteous and ill with the the wicked. Divine 
 judgment in this sense follows human action with undeviat- 
 ing regularity. There is nothing arbitrary, nothing arti- 
 ficial in that judgment ; but all is natural, as natural as the 
 successive stages in the growth of a plant. The present is 
 the seed-time, the harvest will follow ; and the analogy be- 
 tween the spiritual and the natural harvest requires that as 
 we sow we shall reap. As every seed produces fruit after 
 its kind, as w^heat produces wheat, and tares produce tares, 
 so the good we do brings a harvest of good, and the evil a 
 harvest of evil. Our good deeds form into habits, and our 
 habits of well-doing become a second nature. Our evil 
 deeds form into habits of evil-doing, and these become 
 inveterate. It is thus, and thus alone, that our Lord could 
 say that, for every idle word that men speak, they shall give 
 account thereof in the day of judgment. No word so fleet- 
 ing, but it will leave its trace upon the soul of the speaker. 
 In the language of a great living writer — 
 
 " Our deeds still travel with us from afar, 
 And what we liave been makes us what we are." 
 
 Notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary, this 
 law is of universal force, incessant and invariable in its oper- 
 ation. To see that such is the case, and that what are called 
 exceptions to the law ai'e only apparent, Ave must empha- 
 size the sameness in kind between the seed which we sow 
 and the fruit which we gather. It is not enough to say that 
 we reap evil if we sow evil, and that we reap good if we 
 sow good, but we must add that the good which we reap is 
 the same in kind as that which we sow. A man can not 
 reap Avheat if he sow tares, but as little can he reap one 
 kind of grain, such as wheat, by sowing another kind of 
 
136 THE LA W OF MOIiAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix. 
 
 grain, such as barley. For " God hath given to every seed 
 a body of its own," which it can not put off or exchange, 
 even when it dies and is quickened again. Even so a man 
 can as little sow one kind of good and reap another kind of 
 good, as he can sow evil and reap good, A man can not 
 be sure that, by sowing moral good, he will reap physical 
 good or inward happiness. A fair reputation, mental re- 
 pose, and abundance of the things of this life are all good 
 in themselves, and greatly to be desired, but they are not 
 the true or highest good for which we must " labor " ; they 
 are uncertain of continuance, unsatisfying at the best, and 
 not to be compared with that enduring substance on which 
 we must set our hearts. The inferior good is generally 
 " added " to those who seek first the kingdom of God ; there 
 is in general a more or less palpable or subtile connection 
 between the higher and the lower good ; the latter is a more 
 or less probable contingent or accessory of the former, but 
 not its necessary sequel. The connection is often dissolved, 
 or even reversed, at least in the experience of the individ- 
 ual. " There be just men, to whom it happeneth after the 
 work of the righteous, and wicked men to whom it happen- 
 eth after the work of the righteous." An upright life may 
 be rewarded with poverty and loss ; comfort and high es- 
 tate may follow in the train of intense selfishness and great 
 criminality. The inflexibility of a man's vii'tue may doom 
 him to defeat and disappointment, while the easiness and 
 pliancy of another man's morality may be the very thing 
 which enables him to make the best of this world. As the 
 great poet says, " Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall." 
 A man may carry a guilty secret in his heart, and through 
 obtuseness of the moral sense, or a reprobate hardihood, he 
 may be able to derive full and unquestionable enjoyment 
 from the fruits of his crime. Whereas the very first step 
 to repentance, the first acknowledgment or discovery of 
 his guilt, may involve for him the loss of all earthly happi- 
 
MACKiNTOsn.J THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. 137 
 
 ness, comfort, and respect, though it may also be the seed 
 or starting-point of a new and better life. 
 
 The apostle's meaning, therefore, is not that a man will 
 derive physical comfort, and outward, or even mental, hap- 
 piness from following the right ; for a man's desire of hap- 
 piness may be thwarted by the mere fact of his obedience 
 to the requirements of his higher nature, by a scrupulous 
 adherence to the golden rule. But the meaning is that, ac- 
 cording as a man sows a good or a bad life, he shall reap a 
 better or a worse life. His good or evil deeds wax into 
 habits, and produce corresponding states of mind, which 
 bring harmony or disorder, freedom or enslavement, into 
 the inner life. The only certain, as it is the highest and 
 most sufficing, enjoyment arises from the mind being con- 
 sciously at peace within itself, and in harmony with the 
 divine and universal order. To pursue our sepai'ate and 
 individual aims is to bring us into conflict with that order, 
 and to land us in misery. 
 
 Emphatic reference is frequently made in the New Tes- 
 tament to the principle of judgment, or of recompense as 
 now explained. It was what St. Paul had in view when he 
 says in his Epistle to the Romans that God " will reward 
 every man according to his works." In the Epistle to the 
 Colossians he says, by literal rendering, " He that doeth 
 wrong shall receive back the wrong which he did." The 
 very wrong which he did returns upon the doer. The 
 spirit which vented itself in wrong-doing is intensified in 
 him. And our Lord said, " Blessed are they that do hunger 
 and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled " — 
 filled with that very righteousness for which they hunger. 
 It is just by the operation of this law of recompense, or of 
 continuous development, that God rewards men impartially, 
 that a righteous judgment is passed upon all men. It is 
 by this all-embracing order that God trains and judges the 
 rational creation. This is the true Theodicy; and, if there 
 
138 THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix. 
 
 be any other form of judgment, it is quite secondary, or 
 auxiliary to this. 
 
 We may still make use of such words as reward and 
 punishment ; but such words, however familiar to our lips, 
 and however descriptive of human means and modes of dis- 
 cipline, must be applied with much caution and reserve to 
 the consequences of our actions as regulated by the Divine 
 order. Those consequences which seem to answer most 
 truly to the ideas expressed by such words are nothing, as 
 we have seen, but the fruit or natural development of the 
 good or evil we have done, and are neither extrinsically su- 
 peradded nor arbitrarily imposed. These same ideas are 
 often associated in men's minds with good or evil fortune, 
 in cases with which they have no proper connection. Thus, 
 striking calamities are of frequent occurrence, in which 
 physical and social evils concentrate themselves at certain 
 points, and these are popularly called judgments of God ; 
 acts of his punitive justice. But both Science and Scrip- 
 ture warn us to be cautious in the use of such lansfuaffe. 
 Those on whom the tower of Siloam fell were not, there- 
 fore, greater sinners than all other men ; and scientific in- 
 vestigation has taught us to trace physical evil to physical 
 causes ; to perceive that, as some one has remarked, " plagues 
 are not, as Bishop Porteous said, the ghastly ministers of 
 Heaven's wrath, but simply the result of neglecting sanitary 
 conditions." In many cases, no doubt, such calamities may 
 be said to be judgments in an intermediate or secondary 
 sense, just because they are instances to a greater or less 
 extent of the law of retribution. Dissipated habits under- 
 mine the health. As surely as a disregard of cleanliness 
 and decency tends to induce epidemics, so immoderate self- 
 indulgence tends not only to weaken and deprave the cor- 
 poreal powers, but also to vitiate the mind. And such in- 
 flictions are truly beneficent, because they act as auxiliaries 
 of the moral order, and are suitable to a state of discipline. 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. I39 
 
 serving to repress transgressions of that order, and to pro- 
 mote the observance of it ; and thus operating in a general 
 way to the same end as the law of moral continuity, by the 
 direct and infallible action of which, without the interven- 
 tion of any supplementary or epicyclical contrivance, God 
 judges the world in the true and full sense of the word. 
 
 The views here presented have not only obtained a wide 
 currency in later times, but are able also, as we believe, to 
 bear the most rigid scrutiny ; and if it be an axiom or first 
 principle of theology, that we ought to accept no dogma 
 which contradicts the sure conclusions of reason, it seems to 
 follow that we may have to modify the popular belief of 
 Christendom concerning a day of final judgment to decide 
 irrevocably the destinies both of the good and of the bad. 
 Turn it over in our thoughts as we may, it is difficult to 
 bring the ordinary idea of such a day into harmony with 
 the doctrine of the spiritual harvest. By all who accept 
 the doctrine of a future life, it will be admitted that the 
 departing soul will carry with it into that life the same 
 moral state which it has formed for itself here. Its works, 
 whether good or bad, will follow it thither ; each of them 
 will have left upon the soul its stamp and imprint. At the 
 moment when it is ushered into another world, every soul 
 will have reached a certain stage of moral development or 
 of moral degeneracy. And the belief common among us is, 
 that on the day of judgment one class of souls will not only 
 be acquitted from the consequences of all the evil that yet 
 cleaves to them, but will be suddenly perfected in holiness 
 and freed from all remaining taint and infection of sin. 
 Upon the other class, a sentence and a transformation of 
 quite an opposite character will be passed, though, confess- 
 edly, the day of judgment will find the characters of both 
 classes compounded both of good and evil. It has been 
 said, indeed, that the difference between the two classes is 
 one in kind, because sin has lost that dominion in the one 
 
140 TEE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [seemok ix. 
 
 class which it retains in the other. But this difference, 
 even if it be one in kind, and not, after all, in degree only, 
 does not account for what is supposed to take place. In 
 the life to come, the dominating powei', whether good or 
 evil, in the case of any individual can only determine, or 
 form a factor in, the further development of that individ- 
 ual, just as it does in the present life ; but it can not achieve 
 for itself a total and immediate triumph, as is supposed. It 
 is obvious, therefore, that though we may and do connect 
 the idea of such a day of judgment with the language of 
 the apostle, yet the two ideas are quite incomj^atible. So 
 far from being an exemplification of the principle involved, 
 such a day of judgment w^ould much rather be a violation 
 and a subversion of it. If the judgment be final, and the 
 extinction of evil, which coexists with the good, be com- 
 plete and sudden, it is evident that the gradual and natural 
 process of moral amelioration, which began here, would be 
 foreclosed and precipitated by a supernatural fiat of Al- 
 mighty power. That moral discipline v/hich is in hai-mony 
 with human responsibility, and with the idea of moral de- 
 velopment, would be suddenly arrested, A Divine decree 
 would complete the work already begun, and supernatural 
 action would be introduced into a scene where it Avould be 
 as much out of place as in the present order of things. 
 
 The subjects of this astounding transformation will, by 
 supposition, occupy very different stages in the scale of 
 moral development. In some, the development will only 
 have commenced ; in others, it will be far advanced ; and 
 if a Divine fiat may thus at any point interfere with the 
 natural course of things, it is hard to see why it might not 
 have interfered at the very first to prevent the incursion of 
 evil into the world. Such interference on the day of judg- 
 ment is as inadmissible, because as inconsistent with human 
 liberty, and with an inviolable order, as at any other crisis 
 in the history of man. 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LAW OF MORAL CONTINUITY. \^l 
 
 It can never be of little moment to bring our ideas of 
 religious subjects into harmony with the truth and nature 
 of things. A divergence of our theories from reality is apt 
 sooner or later to avenge itself by leading to some practical 
 error, or by entailing the loss of some practical influence. 
 And it seems to us as if the idea of a day of final judgment 
 exposed iis to a risk of this kind. It is the substitution of 
 an artificial for a natural conception of Divine judgment ; 
 of a human and imperfect for a Divine procedure. On a 
 mind little trained to reflection, the notion of a day and a 
 throne set for judgment will make a vivid, because a defi- 
 nite, impression. But to a reflecting mind the notion of 
 a continuous and progressive judgment, before as well as 
 after death, is much more impressive, and much more pow- 
 erfully operative as a check and counterpoise to the solici- 
 tations of lust and selfishness. In the one case, life is re- 
 garded as a mere trial or probation, which being successfully 
 endured is rewarded by perfected holiness, and an immedi- 
 ate cessation of all sinful motions. Impressed by such an 
 idea, the soul will strive to undergo the ordeal, and hope 
 that its failures under trial will all be made sfood. In the 
 other case, life is regarded as an education ; and the prob- 
 lem of life is to extii-pate the evil in our nature by degrees, 
 in actual personal conflict. In this latter case there can be 
 no thought of getting rid of evil by any forensic act or sov- 
 ereign fiat of the Judge. If, by an act of sovereign power, 
 God may bring the halting course of moral development 
 to its destined period, even the impenitent, provided their 
 faith be strong enough, may hope — not without reason — to 
 impetrate the exercise at any moment of such a power in 
 their behalf ; while those who have entered the narrow path 
 may be tempted to slacken their pace, or to relax their 
 moral effort, if they are taught to expect that their short- 
 comings, more or less, may be canceled at last by a sudden 
 translation to the goal. 
 
142 THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [sermon ix. 
 
 It may be said that, if such views be generally accepted, 
 the cause of morality and religion will lose that leverage 
 which it derives from the dogma of a final and irreversible 
 doom determined by our condition at the moment of our 
 departure from this life ; that, if time and space for repent- 
 ance may be looked for after death, the natural tendency 
 to levity and procrastination will receive a fresh accession 
 of force. But, is then that loss so great, or the aggrava- 
 tion of this tendency so certain ? Is it not an undoubted 
 fact that the common doctrine, though addressed to our 
 fears, and calculated, as it may seem, to strike terror, and 
 to call to immediate repentance, yet fails most signally, in 
 the case of large numbers, to give impetus to effort, or to 
 produce that moral earnestness which is currently ascribed 
 to its influence ? Do not the inherent incredibility and in- 
 justice of a penalty utterly disproportioned to the sin beget, 
 in the case of multitudes, a merciful skepticism, and a not 
 altogether ignoble determination to brave the unknown ter- 
 rors of the other world ? That doctrine, again, according 
 to which the present and the future life are connected by 
 the law of continuity — though it may be less fitted to keep 
 us trembling on the brink of despair, and to subject the 
 mind to a state of all but intolerable tension, though it mav 
 even annul one urgent motive to immediate repentance — yet 
 tells us that, by a continuance in sin, we, day by day, surely 
 consolidate about us the walls of a prison-house, from which 
 we shall " by no means come out, until we have paid the 
 uttermost farthing " ; that the burden of sin will continue 
 to oppress us, and be the source of misery to us there as 
 here, until, by a discipline of unknown severity, the cords 
 which bind it on our souls are undone. And surely such a 
 doctrine as this can not, if well considered, give encourage- 
 ment to indifference or levity. 
 
 We are far from saying that the popular idea of a day 
 of judgment is positively or altogether pernicious, but only 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. 143 
 
 that it is less influential, especially for men of thought and 
 culture, than that of an ever-present judgment. We do 
 not deny even that there may be an important truth under- 
 lying the popular conception. It is quite in harmony with 
 the idea of an inviolable moral order, that for the individual 
 soul its entrance into a new stage of existence, and for the 
 whole race the end of the world, may be a point or crisis of 
 immense significance and range in determining the further 
 development of the individual and the race. A new motive 
 power may thus be called into existence simply by what the 
 Scriptures call the revelation of the righteous judgment of 
 God ; the revelation of that inflexible moral order in com- 
 pliance with which alone the race and the individual can 
 reach the goal marked out for them, but which in the pres- 
 ent mingled scene men have such difticulty in apprehending. 
 If amid new conditions that order reveal itself more dis- 
 tinctly to human vision, it is conceivable that the further 
 development of some may be accelerated, while a turning- 
 point may be gained for others whose course hitherto has 
 taken the wrong direction. How this may be so we shall 
 yet see when we come, in speaking of the renovating power 
 of Christianity, to consider the mode in which an accession 
 of light operates on the mind. The revelation of the judg- 
 ment of God will be but a supplement to that which has 
 been made to us in Christ, and will enhance its operation in 
 delivering us from evil. 
 
 "We understand, then, that the judgment of God is only 
 another name for the natural and inevitable consequence of 
 our lives. That judgment will be executed, not once for 
 all, as we have been taught to believe, by a separate Divine 
 decree or verdict in each individual case, but by the opera- 
 tion of a universal law established from the first by the 
 Governor of all. It has begun already for every one of 
 us, and is going on continually, leading on gradually to 
 higher and ever higher issues. As the harvest of this year 
 
144 THE LA W OF MORAL CONTINUITY. [seruon ix. 
 
 furnishes seed for the year following, so the chain of moral 
 sequence, good or evil, is carried on in unbroken continuity. 
 We may not see cleai'ly the process, while it is still going 
 on, the growth of habit and of tendency being for the most 
 part insensible. Amid the hardships of our moral warfare, 
 and amid the apparent freedom and intoxication of present 
 indulgence, we may long fail to see that the tyranny of ac- 
 quired habits is but the fruit of past indulgence ; it may 
 only be on rare occasions that we have the bitter feeling 
 that we are reaping the reward of our evil deeds. But the 
 Scriptures speak of the revelation or full manifestation of 
 the righteous judgment of God, when, the whole process 
 being transferred to a new condition of things, it may stand 
 forth in clear outline before the universe. That law, hith- 
 erto revealed only to a select few, may then reveal itself to 
 every soul of man, as the outcome of his earthly experience, 
 and constitute by its revelation a new motive power in the 
 education of the race. 
 
 No doubt, it is impossible for us to imagine how moral 
 discipline can be continued under other conditions in a fu- 
 ture state. But this is no objection to the views now stated. 
 For St. Paul himself, and Luther in his usual frank and 
 outspoken manner, besides many others best qualified to 
 give an opinion on the subject, have confessed themselves 
 quite unable, on the old dogmatic lines of thought, to form 
 any conception of a future state. The whole subject lies 
 utterly out of our field of vision, and beyond our compre- 
 hension, whatever view be taken of divine judgment ; and 
 all we can be sure of, all that for the purposes of present 
 discipline we need to be sure of, is that law will continue to 
 assert itself there as here, and that God, the Judge of all 
 the earth, will do right. 
 
 We have seen that, upward of two thousand years ago, 
 the principle of moral continuity, if not thought out, was 
 at least divined by a few gifted spirits ; yet we must admit 
 
MACKINTOSH.] THE LAW OF MOEAL CONTINUITY. 145 
 
 that, until a comparatively recent period, almost indeed 
 until the present age, the apprehension of it by all but a 
 few, if not even by these few, was only approximative. The 
 moral sentiment could hardly emerge as a conscious and 
 authoritative factor of human life, without the discovery 
 being made at the same time that virtue is in some sense its 
 own reward, and that, in the words of the Wisdom of Solo- 
 mon, " wherewithal a man sins, by the same shall he be 
 punished." But language such as this, which abounds in 
 every literature, is far from involving a distinct and ade- 
 quate recognition of moral sequence. The great mediaeval 
 poet, in whom " ten silent centuries found a voice," intended 
 in his " Divina Commedia " to represent in action the principle 
 of recompense, founding for this purpose on the legendary 
 materials and popular beliefs of his period. But as ice read 
 the lurid imaginings of his *' Inferno," and compare them 
 with the real drama of Divine judgment, we feel that they do 
 not turn to burlesque, only because they pass into allegory. 
 They survive for us as a splendid creation of poetic fancy, 
 so elastic in its truthfulness as to shadow forth an idea of 
 recompense more true and spiritual than the poet himself 
 intended to embody. Only in these later times, when sci- 
 ence, in its researches into the material world, has lighted 
 everywhere upon the traces of an all-pervading continuity, 
 has the existence in the moral and spiritual worlds of an 
 analogous principle been confidently postulated. And, if it 
 can be shown, without prejudice to the religious sentiment, 
 that the principle of continuity obtains in the moral sphere 
 no less than in the material, and rules the succession of re- 
 ligious as of other phenomena— that the judgment of God 
 upon human action is immanent in the action itself — this 
 will be a step toward that reconciliation of faith with sci- 
 ence, the conscious or suspected lack of which is the specific 
 danger of our age, the source of its universal unrest, and of 
 its all but universal skepticism. 
 1 
 
146 THE HEN OVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 X. 
 
 THE EENOYATING POWER OF CHRIS- 
 TIANITY. 
 
 BY THE REV. WILLIAM MACKINTOSH, D. D., BUCHANAN. 
 
 " Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." — Gal. vi, 7. 
 
 From these words of St. Paul, and from other passages 
 of Scripture, we collect that the gospel does not profess to 
 exempt us from the law of recompense ; or, which is the 
 same thing, from the law of moral continuity. It is to the 
 infinite credit of Christianity, that, so far from seeking to 
 magnify itself, by professing to make this or any law void, 
 it asserts the validity for all time of whatever is law. But, 
 if this be so, we have to ask. What the gospel is good for ? 
 What title has it to that designation ? What service does 
 it render ? From what fear does it deliver, from what bur- 
 den does it relieve us ? The law of the spiritual harvest is 
 that evil is the natural product of evil ; that nothing either 
 good or evil ever perishes of itself, but must, in some way, 
 influence, or enter as an element into, the future. Conscious 
 of the evil that is in us, we feel that our faith and our hopes 
 are vain, unless by some means good can come out of evil, 
 or take the place of evil, even though it may be that the 
 evil that passes may leave its trace in the color and char- 
 acter of the good that abides. The final result of the evil 
 may be only to differentiate the good, which in this differ- 
 entiation will carry within itself the data or evidence of its 
 history and growth. It is by the harmonizing of such dif- 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CnRISTIANITY. 147 
 
 ferentiated elements that the process of self-development, 
 by which man becomes the builder-up of his own highest 
 self, is saved from insipid uniformity, and the moral sphere 
 is impressed with that variety and shading of character in 
 which the manifold wisdom and goodness of God loves to 
 mirror itself in the spiritual as in the natural world. Now, 
 though we have no hint of anything of the kind in the 
 text, this is just what the gospel does teach us to expect 
 and look for. We feel indeed that, unless the good could 
 supplant, could get the better of, the evil that is in us, 
 there could be no such thing as a gospel or message of glad- 
 ness to man. The gospel is what it is, and what it professes 
 to be, just because it shows us the way from evil to good ; 
 just because it delivers us from the one and brings us to 
 the other. But it is necessary to know in what sense and 
 how far it accomplishes this, that we may not be led astray 
 by a mere form of words, or misconstrue the method by 
 which the gospel confers this benefit upon us. 
 
 Undoubtedly there is much difficulty in conceiving how 
 there can be room for amendment and conversion, side by 
 side with the existence of a law of moral development, and 
 with the idea of moral continuity. It seems as if, by insist- 
 ing on the tendency of every action to confirm the dispo- 
 sition from which it springs, we go far to deny the free 
 agency of man, the possibility of repentance, and the power 
 of Christianity or of any other influence to initiate and effect 
 a renovation of human life. But it must be remembered 
 that the difficulty exists of conceiving how good may spring 
 up, as confessedly it often does, in the midst of evil, whether 
 we adopt that idea or not ; and that it exists, moreover, for 
 the physiologist no less than for the moralist and the theo- 
 logian. The physiologist admits the persistence of force 
 and the law of moral sequence, but affirms none the less that 
 the evils arising from past indulgence may be neutralized by 
 the exercise of self-denial ; that pernicious habits may be 
 
148 TBE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 and often are overcome by reversing the process by which 
 they have been contracted ; and that a spiritual force, latent 
 in every one of us, may be summoned forth to counteract 
 the tendencies to evil which have been fostered and strength- 
 ened by long use and habit. It is not, however, with the 
 mere theoretical difficulty involved in the conception or ra- 
 tionale of that force that we have here to do, but rather 
 with the practical and objective difficulty involved in the 
 effort requisite for calling up the force to counteract the 
 evil that has possession of the heart, and to give impulse to 
 the endeavor after the better life. 
 
 In modern phraseology a sense of the painfulness and 
 difficulty involved in the earnest and successful exerting of 
 that force has found expression for itself in the saying that 
 men never change, they only develop ; which, if it be re- 
 ceived with certain qualifications, represents an undeniable 
 fact, but which is too often an utterance of the direst and 
 most hopeless skepticism. The same feeling was expressed 
 in ancient times by Job, " Who can bring a clean thing out of 
 an unclean ? " and by Jeremiah, " Can the Ethiopian change 
 his skin, or the leopard his spots ? Then may ye who are ac- 
 customed to do evil learn to do well." To both these thinkers 
 it seemed that to change the tenor of a life was equivalent 
 to a physical impossibility ; much as it seems to any one who 
 takes the law of moral development and continuity into ac- 
 count. The conception of that law does not aggravate the 
 difficulty, but only gives expression to it, or explains its 
 nature. Our Lord also seems to have been painfully, almost 
 despairingly, sensible of the same difficulty, as for instance 
 when He said, " O generation of vipers, how can ye being 
 evil speak good things ? " or when He declared that " a cor- 
 rupt tree can not bring forth good fruit." To say this and 
 yet not to despair of man was no small evidence of his faith 
 in man's Maker. In man, no doubt, there is a will to do 
 good, but how to perform is the difficulty ; and in the pres- 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CIIEISTIANITy. I49 
 
 ence of the evil bias, and by comparison with it, that will 
 to do good seems to be the weakest of all things. The sense 
 of its weakness, contrasted with the magnitude of the issues 
 depending on it, seems to have filled even St. Paul with 
 " wretchedness " ; and the question which long after his con- 
 version continued to haunt and to agitate his mind was just 
 this : how that which was thus weak could confound that 
 which was mighty; how a man could struggle against that 
 to which he is naturally inclined, and overcome that which 
 is strongest in him ; how the will to do good, which was as 
 if it were not, could bring to naught the things that were, 
 and counteract that gravitation to evil which is a power in- 
 deed in the soul. 
 
 St. Paul was confident that the better will, when reen- 
 forced by Christian influences, could and would triumph ; 
 but to conceive of these influences as an exertion of super- 
 natural grace, as he is generally supposed to do, is little else 
 than to explain away the difficulty, and really to deprive 
 the process of conversion of all its value and all its mystery. 
 We have rather to seek the explanation of it in the latent 
 capacities of our nature ; in the balance of good and evil 
 within us ; in the vitality and spontaneousness of a spiritual 
 force, of a higher nature within us, to which the gospel ap- 
 peals ; and in the action of the Divine idea, as the gospel 
 presents it, upon the reason of man. We say that this 
 spiritual force, though held in durance and oppressed under 
 the weight of evil, yet, if touched and brought into sym- 
 pathy and rapport with the power of goodness " not our- 
 selves," leaps forth into light and gathers strength, despite 
 of prevailing evil, in a way which, to men who are inwardly 
 conscious of it, has often seemed to be nothing short of mi- 
 raculous and divine. In thus ascribing to an interaction 
 between the longing or aspiration within us and the ten- 
 dency of things without us an effect of such decisive im- 
 portance to our spiritual life, we are led into proximity with 
 
150 TEE BENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 the esoteric doctrine of Brahminism, which a great Oriental- 
 ist has recently expounded, viz., that there is no hope of 
 salvation for man except by the individual self recognizing 
 the true and universal self and finding rest in it. 
 
 However much a man may give himself up to the service 
 and practice of sin, yet the dominion of sin, notwithstand- 
 ing its self -perpetuating and self-intensifying power, never 
 becomes absolute and undisputed. When we say that an 
 evil habit is self -perpetuating, we speak of a tendency, not 
 of a necessity. The better principle has within itself the 
 potency of a reactive force, the possibility of a new life, 
 which may encroach on the dominion of evil, and even estab- 
 lish its own supremacy, though seldom without a struggle 
 by which the soul is almost rent in pieces. The painful 
 effort which it costs to loosen the hold with which habits of 
 sin have fastened on the soul is the penalty which we pay 
 for past indulgence ; a painfulness which is familiar to the 
 experience of many of us, and which in the gospel is sym- 
 bolized by the cross, by the strait gate and narrow way, 
 and in primitive Buddhism by the struggle of the elephant 
 to extricate itself from the swamp. For the truly religious 
 man there is no escape or dispensation from such efforts, 
 except indeed in those rare cases in which the sense of Di- 
 vine love and the beauty of goodness take immediate pos- 
 session of the soul, or in which a new affection suddenly 
 lights up the heart with a triumphant joy. 
 
 The judicial tendency of action to intensify the spirit 
 from which it springs, and so to perpetuate itself, operates 
 either for good or for evil — a duplicity of operation which 
 holds true of every law of our nature, and every part of 
 our constitution. As fineness of organization makes us at 
 once susceptible and vulnerable at every point ; as our 
 senses may be to us the source of exquisite pleasure or of 
 exquisite pain ; as one and the same organ makes us sensi- 
 tive to harmony or to discord ; as we can only enjoy a ben- 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CUBISTIANITY. 15J 
 
 efit in one direction by being exposed to the possibility of 
 injury in another ; as one and the same discipline may ma- 
 ture a virtue, or develop a germ of vice, so the tendency of 
 the moral life to perpetuate itself operates for evil as well 
 as for good. But the tendency in either case is relative 
 not absolute ; and it may be noted as an indication or pledge 
 of the ultimate triumph of good over evil, that this univer- 
 sal and two-edged tendency is on the whole and by pre- 
 ponderance beneficent, inasmuch as it makes for good more 
 than for evil. The empire of the latter, however firmly es- 
 tablished, always runs the risk of being overthrown ; feel- 
 ings of remorse and penitence may be awakened by the 
 greatness of a crime, or by a sense of inward desolation, 
 and evoke an insurrection of the soul against the sway of 
 evil ; whereas it is seldom indeed, if ever, that a man re- 
 pents of what is good. And hence the continuity of the 
 moral life, though it may be such as to exclude the possi- 
 bility of a lapse from virtue which has reached a certain 
 stage, does not exclude amendment and conversion from a 
 life of sin. From the observation to which we have thus 
 been led, it would seem as if there were indeed, in the na- 
 ture of what is good, a substantive character which is want- 
 ing in what is evil ; and as if that were the true theory of 
 the nature of the latter, according to which it is not an 
 actual entity but a mere privation, or, as it has been ex- 
 pressed, " an undeveloped good." 
 
 Hence, too, it is our belief that, though the law of moral 
 sequence be of absolute validity, so that the past can never 
 be extinguished, yet that evil as such will gradually be 
 eliminated from the universe. We are fully alive to the 
 mystery which rests upon this subject : how inconceivable 
 it is that in accordance with that law, and with due respect 
 to the freedom of his creatures, God can yet eliminate evil 
 from their hearts. But we do not believe that there is any 
 sin absolutely beyond forgiveness ; that there are " forms 
 
152 THE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 of evil so vital, that no repentance can fully blot them out " ; 
 or, as it has been otherwise expressed, that there are " acts 
 which may have such irretrievable effects on character that 
 for them there can be no place for repentance." That many 
 acts, and many forms of evil, do appear to men to be thus 
 fearfully irretrievable, irreversible, we acknowledge. But 
 we rest here on the words of Christ, that what is impossible 
 for man — impossible for man even to conceive — may be pos- 
 sible for God, and for the benignly transforming operation 
 of that Order, which is but another name for God. That 
 there are passages in Scripture which seem to bear out such 
 a hopeful and cheering prospect, it is not necessary to say. 
 If for long ages the Order may seem to operate indifferently 
 for evil or for good, yet its preponderating tendency in 
 favor of what is good will finally issue in the transforma- 
 tion of what is evil. 
 
 The soul is a scene of conflict between good and evil. 
 Explain it psychologically as we may, it is a fact of daily 
 experience that the soul may struggle with itself ; the 
 higher with the lower nature. The animal and selfish pro- 
 pensities, which have sole possession of the child, are not 
 evil in themselves, but only become evil when they retain 
 the upi^er hand in spite of reason and conscience, and ob- 
 struct the rule and growth of the higher nature, of that 
 spiritual principle which, deposited in the soul as a seed, is, 
 by inherent right and destination, the governing and con- 
 trolling power over the whole man. In proportion as we 
 live in subjection to our lower impulses, we sow to the flesh ; 
 in proportion as we obey the higher impulses of our nature, 
 we sow to the spirit. According to the ajDOstle, we may do 
 either ; and there is probably no man so much a slave to 
 carnal and egotistical principles but oftentimes acts in def- 
 erence to the higher and better principle. The more a man 
 so acts, the more does he invigorate that principle, keeping 
 it at least from utter torpor. The more, again, he obeys the 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHEISTIANITY. 153 
 
 motions of his fleshly nature, the more does he strengthen 
 its hold and confirm its dominion ; and all this happens 
 according to that moral order in which Divine judgment 
 executes itself. 
 
 When evil habits have once been confirmed, these can 
 be overcome seldom or never by the call of duty, or by a 
 sense of moral obligation, but by the power of some new 
 hope, some new interest or affection, and, most of all, by 
 the power of that affection which is called forth by the 
 revelation of Divine grace. The revelation to our mind of 
 the paternal character of God, and of the gracious relation 
 in which He stands to us, produces a complete revolution in 
 our feelings and relations toward Him, and thereby elevates 
 us to a higher level of the religious life. Before that reve- 
 lation is made to us, our religion consists in the effort to 
 propitiate God, and to deserve his favor, a task we all feel 
 to be of impossible achievement. But thenceforth our en- 
 deavor is not to merit or deserve, but to show ourselves 
 sensible and worthy of the unmerited, priceless, and unal- 
 terable favor and good-will with which He regards us — a 
 distinction of immense practical significance. In the for- 
 mer case, we are actuated by fear and other mercenary dis- 
 positions, the very consciousness of which is enough to lame 
 and frustrate our efforts ; in the other, we are stirred by 
 gratitude, and all the higher impulses of which our nature 
 is susceptible. 
 
 The problem of human life — the task appointed to us — 
 is our deliverance from the sway of our lower nature, our 
 surrender to the control of our higher nature. The powers 
 by which we are enabled to accomplish this task are three : 
 First. Our own higher nature itself, which is never wholly 
 effaced, and which reacts against the evil, and makes us 
 receptive of all the higher influences that may be brought 
 to bear upon us from without. Secondly. The complex of 
 all these higher influences — the beneficent constitution of 
 
154 THE BENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 tilings in general, their tendency in favor of what is good, 
 which operates upon us more or less, even when we are un- 
 conscious of it. We do not mean to say that this tendency 
 operates in spite of us, or that it approaches its aim or pur- 
 pose independently of us. A philosopher or man of science 
 may feel himself at liberty to hold such a view, but the 
 teacher of religion can not. For, were this the case, as 
 extreme evolutionists would have us believe, it would be 
 equivalent to the death or extinction of all religion, and 
 obliterate that which constitutes the highest distinction of 
 the rational creature ; that relative freedom of will by 
 which he is, like God, though in an inferior degree, sui 
 causa, the maker of himself. That " man is man and mas- 
 ter of his fate " is the witness of the inmost consciousness. 
 He is man because he is master of his fate, and not the abso- 
 lute thrall or slave of circumstance ; and it has been shown 
 over and over again that to set this witness aside Avould 
 end by landing us in infinite absurdities, or in universal 
 skepticism. To this witness, therefore, we must hold fast, 
 in spite of all ratiocination to the contrary, however unan- 
 swerable it may seem. It is matter of wide experience that 
 one and the same discipline may, as we have already re- 
 marked, foster virtue, or develop the germs of vice in us. 
 But which of the two it shall be, must depend more or less 
 upon the rational subject giving himself up to the influence 
 for good or the influence for evil, even though he may have 
 no distinct apprehension or consciousness of the existence 
 or nature either of the one or the other. A man may not 
 be conscious of the several influences, good or evil, by which 
 he is surrounded ; and yet it is by acts of volition, however 
 obscure, that he surrenders himself to this class rather than 
 to that. 
 
 With this explanation, we say that the tendency of hu- 
 man relations in favor of what is good, so far as it exists in 
 excess of the opposite tendency, being impressed by God 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. I55 
 
 on the creation, is an evidence of his design to secure the 
 triumph of Avhat is good, and to deliver us from evil. After 
 being hidden from human vision for long ages, or only par- 
 tially surmised by other teachers, this design was at length 
 brought fully to light, and presented to our faith by the 
 founder of Christianity. In consequence of this tendency, 
 it might be said in all ages that " God meeteth him that 
 rejoiceth and worketh righteousness ; those that remember 
 him in his ways " ; and it is not fanciful to suppose that 
 their insight into this tendency was what encouraged the 
 great religious teachers of ancient times, and preeminently 
 Christ, to believe and proclaim the paternal character of 
 God ; and from the vantage-ground of this new idea to dis- 
 cern more clearly than ever that all things work together 
 for the ultimate good of man. That tendency is the out- 
 ward revelation which offers itself to the interpreting power 
 of the pure in heart ; and these two factors, the outward 
 and the inward, explain to us the otherwise inexplicable 
 nature of that Divine instinct by which humanity rose at 
 length in Christ to the thought of God's absolute goodness ; 
 while the necessity that exists for the latter factor cooper- 
 ating with the former, in order to the perception of that 
 truth, may explain to us how the hold of it on the part of 
 mankind is even yet so slender, precarious, and uncertain. 
 
 Thirdly. These two factors for the accomplishment of 
 the Divine purpose are consummated, or brought into full 
 operation, by the revelation to our consciousness of that 
 which was implicitly contained in them, but of which we 
 had otherwise remained unconscious ; by that revelation, 
 we mean, of the Divine good-will, or paternal relation to- 
 ward us, by which Christ has reenforced our better nature, 
 enabling us to be intelligent fellow-workers with God in 
 our conflict with evil, and giving a higher aim to our life. 
 The deeper insight which Christ has thus given us into the 
 character and purposes of God has advanced us to a higher 
 
156 '^HE RENOVATING POWER [sermok x. 
 
 level of religious development. For it is the view which a 
 man takes of God, and of the world, and of the relation in 
 which he stands to both, which, upon the whole, detei-mines 
 his life and actions ; and if he believes, no matter how he 
 comes by the belief, that God loves him and designs to 
 further the triumph and dominion of the higher nature im- 
 planted in him, this conviction is the very highest that can 
 be given him to reenforce his efforts in that conflict with 
 his lower nature. It is through the apprehension of the 
 grace of God by that higher reason which is faith, that 
 grace becomes operative in us ; so that not only our service 
 of God (Rom. xii, 1), but the action, at its highest, of the 
 Divine mind upon our minds is " rational," as being ex- 
 erted through our rational nature. It is, we say, through 
 our reason, through our conviction that God wills the tri- 
 umph of our better nature, that we are animated to a tri- 
 umphant forth-putting of its latent energies. All this may 
 be brought to the test of experience. Let any man lean 
 upon this thought and see what will be the effect of it ; 
 whether it will not make of him what the apostle calls a 
 new creature ; whether it will not suffice to advance him 
 to fellowship with God, to extricate him from the dubious 
 struggle with his lower nature, and in a manner to raise him 
 above himself. 
 
 In passing, we may remark that unless a man be pos- 
 sessed by this consciousness — and unless the consciousness 
 stands in some historical connection with the impulse given 
 by Christianity, he can scarcely be called a Christian — but 
 he may yet be a pious and religious man, accepted of God. 
 The life of God in such a man may be developed by the 
 second of the factors enumerated, that is, by means of the 
 discipline supplied through the Divine order, in the midst 
 of which he stands, and to the influence of which he un- 
 consciously yields. Such, no doubt, is the case with many 
 in heathen lands, and with many also in Christian lands, 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIAmTY. I57 
 
 whose minds are closed against the direct teachings of the 
 gospel. 
 
 To correspond with what has now been said, the gospel 
 can only be regarded as a revelation or discovery to man of 
 a method of salvation which had always been possible in 
 the nature of things, though, it may be, hid from the be- 
 ginning, potentially though not actually in operation from 
 the first. It is the discovery of that sole and only possible 
 method of salvation which is determined by the nature of 
 man and of him in whose image man was created ; not an 
 arbitrary " divine contrivance " as it is sometimes popularly 
 called ; nor an invention of something absolutely new. 
 Some minds seem to be so constituted as to have no diffi- 
 culty in accepting the idea of such a divine contrivance, 
 while to others such an idea is wholly inconceivable. The 
 Catholic Apostolic Church, one of the most recent of the 
 sects, and one which owed its origin to men of apparently 
 high culture and of liberal education, is said by a seemingly 
 well-informed writer to be founded on the idea that, after 
 the death of the original apostles, and owing to the want of 
 faith in the Church, God changed his original plan and pur- 
 pose ; and that, after eighteen centuries of abeyance, He 
 has made a new revelation and given a new organization to 
 his Church. The idea, thus perhaps somewhat brusquely 
 stated, is so manifestly extravagant, that we have some 
 doubt whether it will be accepted by the Catholic Apostolic 
 Church itself as a fair or accurate representation of its 
 principles. But there can be no doubt that this idea, if it 
 be really entertained, is, at bottom, a mere exaggeration of 
 that on which popular Christianity rests. Popularly, and 
 even theologically, Christianity is regarded as a late con- 
 trivance ; as the disclosure of a " second intention " in God's 
 government of the world ; as a contrivance which was con- 
 ditioned and brought late into action by means of unique 
 and altogether exceptional events in the history of man. 
 
158 THE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 If we keep in view that law which has engaged our at- 
 tention, it will be distinctly apparent that the gospel can 
 be a means of supplanting evil by good, only by discover- 
 ing and evoking powers which had always existed, though 
 it may be latently, in man's nature. The gospel deserves 
 its name simply because it teaches and persuades us to 
 cease from evil and to do well ; to change the seed which 
 we sow, and thus to obtain a better harvest. It affords to 
 us helps and encouragements to repent of the evil we have 
 done, and to enter upon a new course of life. It appeals to 
 that aspiration toward what is good, which, according to 
 St. Paul (Rom. vii), is never quite extinct in any soul of 
 man ; while it reiinforces that aspiration by announcing 
 that the Divine complacency in our endeavors to do well is 
 none the less because of the evil that is past, and that there 
 is joy in heaven over the returning penitent. It pi'oclaims 
 foi'giveness for all past failures, and so clears the way for 
 the daily renewal of our lives. The power of a new life 
 resides in the conviction that the past has no claim upon 
 us ; that no objective atonement is necessary ; that all we 
 have to do is to shake ourselves free from the evil that 
 cleaves to us ; and that the obstacle to our deliverance lies 
 A\ holly in ourselves and not in God. By his death on the 
 cross, Christ may be said, in a figurative sense indeed, to 
 have expiated our sins, or to have purchased their remis- 
 sion ; it being important to observe that the figures vary. 
 But what He did, in the strict and literal sense, Avas to 
 reveal to us the infinite placability of the Divine nature. 
 The faith which He thus kindles in the hearts of men pro- 
 duces no change in God's relation or intentions toward us, 
 but is only the recognition and apprehension of a relation 
 always existing. Yet so surprising to those on whom it 
 first dawned was this revelation, and so transforming in its 
 effects ever since on human hopes and character, that in 
 every age men have been constrained to give expression to 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CnEISTlANITY. I59 
 
 that of which they were conscious, by speaking of the great 
 event as not merely a manifestation of the changeless love 
 of God, but as the efficient cause of an utter revolution in 
 God's relations to man. 
 
 The forgiveness of sins was no absolute'y new doctrine, 
 though it was uttered with new emphasis by him who, at 
 the same time, elevated the standard of human duty by his 
 teaching and by his example in life and death, and thus 
 became the founder of our faith. The faith or hope of 
 Divine forgiveness for faults committed must have been 
 implicitly contained in the prayers and sacrifices of every 
 religion in which the ethical element was in any measure 
 developed. Without some faith or hope of this kind, such 
 religion would have been impossible, or been but another 
 name for despair. The prayer for forgiveness was in fact 
 heard in all religions, though but seldom did it ascend any- 
 where in the confidence of a favorable answer. Probably 
 in Israel did men first rise with any distinctness to this 
 faith, for there it was that a clear and simple conception of 
 a moral law first prevailed. The idea of a righteous judg- 
 ment involved in such a law left no escape from despair, 
 except by way of the idea of a free and complete remission 
 of sins, or of that Divine grace which could not but reveal 
 itself to man, when he discovered the " weakness of the law," 
 that is, its unfitness to become a power unto salvation. Of 
 this evangelical idea, therefore, we find traces everywhere 
 in the Old Testament, and notably in the Psalms and in the 
 Books of Jonah and Ezekiel. To take but one example, 
 Ezekiel represents the people as asking, " If our transgres- 
 sions be upon us, and we pine away in them, how should 
 we then live ? " which is just as much as to ask. If we have 
 sown the evil, how can we reap the good ? To men in this 
 desponding state of mind, God bids the pro])het say : " As I 
 live, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; but 
 that the wicked turn from his way and live : turn ye, turn 
 
160 THE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 ye from your evil ways ; for why will ye die, house of 
 Israel ? " That is to say, Ye can escape death only by turn- 
 ing from it ; by forsaking the way that leads to it : ye can 
 escape the harvest of evil only by sowing the seed of a good 
 harvest. And then follows the encouragement which men 
 have to apply to this work : " Therefore say unto the chil- 
 dren of thy people. The wicked shall not fall by his wicked- 
 ness in the day that he turneth from his wickedness ; neither 
 shall the righteous be able to live by his righteousness in 
 the day that he sinneth. When I say to the wicked. Thou 
 shalt surely die," that is. Thou shalt reap the evil thou hast 
 sown, " yet if he turn from his sin, and do that which is 
 lawful and right, he shall surely live and not die. None of 
 his sins that he hath committed shall be mentioned to him." 
 These utterances of one of the great proj^hets of Israel were 
 the result of that deep religious insight which had been 
 gained through centuries of experience by a succession of 
 the highest minds of the nation : of an insight which pos- 
 sessed the few, but was not possessed even by them except 
 with difficiilty and in moments of rare illumination. Christ, 
 on the other hand, a greater than all the prophets, seems to 
 have enjoyed this insight from the first ; and, being in full 
 possession of it. He laid it, supremely confident, as the foun- 
 dation and corner-stone of religion for all time and for all 
 peoples ; and so ushered in the kingdom of God, " not by 
 changing the will of God, but simply by revealing it 
 to us," Just as, in other fields of thought and action, 
 every advance made by humanity has been effected not 
 by any change in the Divine order, but by the discov- 
 ery of laws which have always been in existence, by the 
 reception of these laws into the circle of human thought, 
 and by an adjustment to them of human life and con- 
 duct ; so has it been also in the field of religion, and in 
 respect especially of the great advance first from nature- 
 religion to the religion of law, and then from the religion 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CIIEISTIANITY. 161 
 
 of law to the religion of grace, as we now have it in 
 Christianity. 
 
 The object of most of our Lord's teaching was to show 
 the way by which evil might be made to give place to good 
 in men's lives, and to encourage those who were reaping the 
 harvest of sin to begin to sow the seed which might ripen 
 into a better harvest. He taught men as plainly as could 
 be, that no time was too late for repentance, and no sin too 
 great to be forgiven ; that though the evil they had done 
 would certainly bear its fruit in the difficulties which are 
 thereby laid in the way of return to a better life, yet that 
 the heavenly Father was ever ready to receive the sinner 
 into his fellowship ; and that the confidence of a final tri- 
 umph might spring uj) in the felt presence of indwelling 
 sin, from the conviction that God's will is our salvation. 
 He sought to train all about him to seek the true good as 
 an end, and to practice it as a means of greater and of 
 growing good, and thus to proceed from less to more under 
 the eye of him who despises not the day of small things. 
 
 As we ascribe such a transforming power to the forgive- 
 ness of sin, let it be clearly understood what we mean by 
 that word. "We do not thereby designate an act of God's 
 sovereign pleasure, but only an act of that supreme good- 
 ness which is the universal character of his government of 
 the world. His power to forgive is a power which resides 
 in his love. When we say that He alone is able to forgive 
 sins, we do not mean to claim for him a dispensing power, 
 or a prerogative to extinguish sin, to annihilate its effects, 
 and to break the continuity of the moral order by an al- 
 mighty sentence. For God to vie in this respect with the 
 prerogative claimed by his earthly vicegerent is, to our way 
 of thinking, as impossible as it would be to subvert an arith- 
 metical proportion or a geometrical law. But what we 
 mean is, that God alone has the heart to forgive, which man 
 has not. Man is not able to forgive, because he is unlov- 
 
162 THE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x, 
 
 ing and vindictive. But God is able, because He is love. 
 Though infinitely higher in degree, yet God's forgiveness 
 is the same in kind as that of an earthly parent. He loves, 
 nay, forgives the sinner, even while He leaves him to bear 
 the punishment of his sins. " Thou," says the Psalmist, 
 " forgavest their iniquities, but thou tookest vengeance of 
 their inventions." Even in punishing, God forgave the 
 Israelites. He punished because he forgave. The Divine 
 end was the same in both : namely, their repentance. God 
 seeks man's salvation even by the operation of the law of 
 recompense, and welcomes the first faint symptom of re- 
 pentance. And sin is effaced by means of an inner process, 
 of which the motive power is the perception of Divine love 
 acting on the spiritual nature of the percipient. 
 
 In accordance with these views, we define forgiveness to 
 be the persistence of Divine love in spite of our sins. But 
 it would be illogical to infer from this definition that our 
 sins have no efi^ect on God's relation to us ; that He is 
 indifferent to our sins ; or that " the deep laAV of resent- 
 ment, as modern sentimentalism would have it, is expunged 
 from the Christian code." God aims, through his moral 
 order, unremittingly, unswervingly, at the removal of our 
 sins, and at the remedy of the evils caused by them. This 
 aim He pursues, not with anthropomorphic and relenting 
 fondness, but with that inflexible persistence which is es- 
 sential to the nature of the Divine order, and which, be- 
 cause it is inexorable, may, to reluctant man, seem even to 
 be pitiless. The same merciful discipline — the same pur- 
 })ose of leading men to repentance — runs through the sever- 
 ity and the goodness of God, but none the less on that 
 account is his severity felt to be real. By the operation of 
 the law of continuity, in which Divine love, so to speak, 
 disguises itself, sin becomes more and more intolerable, and 
 the soul makes ineffectual efforts to throw off the sin which 
 oppresses it. A revelation, therefore, of Divine grace is 
 
MACKiKTosH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 163 
 
 needed to encourage the hope of deliverance and to give 
 new vigor to repentance. We obtain strength for true 
 amendment, by accepting that forgiveness, which God, as 
 made known to us by Christ, is always extending to us, and 
 by our confidence in his sympathy with our efforts to break 
 the dominion of sin. The reactive power of our higher 
 nature, of which we have already spoken, is stimulated into 
 energetic action by our belief in Divine sympathy. It is 
 only through the apprehension of that sympathy, through 
 that intercourse with God which is thus made possible, 
 through the conviction that the Supreme is on the side of 
 the insurgent good, and rejoices in its triumph, that we may 
 mount to higher and ever higher stages of the moral and 
 spiritual life. The more common virtues, social or civil, 
 may be practiced without such confidence. But the higher 
 ideal of Christianity can be set up as an aim by those only 
 who believe in the persistency of Divine love ; in the fact 
 that God's forgiveness is ever at the door, ready for their 
 acceptance, so that, with his entire concurrence and good- 
 will, they may begin anew, and start afresh after every 
 failure. In the apprehension of that fact resides the power 
 of an endless growth. 
 
 Even while the soul is dead in trespasses, given up to 
 the practice of sin, God is still placable — in the language 
 of Scripture, He waits to be gracious ; but his grace is in 
 abeyance, or at least appears to be so : and, even when the 
 soul struggles to turn from its sin, without having yet risen 
 to the idea of Divine love, that grace remains inoj>erative ; 
 inasmuch as it is only through faith and the apprehension 
 of Divine grace by means of it, that, in accordance with 
 the laws of our rational nature, grace can become fully 
 operative in us. When the soul yearns for deliverance 
 from evil, the only barrier to the satisfaction of its yearn- 
 ings lies in its ignorance of Divine grace. There need be 
 no element of uncertainty as to the forgiveness of its sins. 
 
164 THE RENOVATING POWER [sermon x. 
 
 For no special acts of pardon need to be passed, any more 
 than, as we formerly remarked, there need to be special 
 acts of judgment. All happens according to the operation 
 of unvarying law in the one case as in the other. To say 
 so is almost a truism, when we admit, what is indeed the 
 case, that Divine forgiveness is only a form of Divine judg- 
 ment. The sovereignty with which God dispenses forgive- 
 ness is just the sovereignty of law. The idea of a sovereign, 
 in the sense of an arbitrary dispensation of forgiveness as 
 of judgment, is altogether excluded : and there is no third 
 form of its dispensation. The specific consciousness of the 
 Christian is given expression to by St. Paul, when he says 
 that we are not under law but under grace ; but the law of 
 which this is said is law in the special sense of the word — 
 as an external commandment which condemns the sinner — 
 in which sense it is opposed to grace : whereas law, in the 
 more general acceptation of the word, as but another name 
 for an immovable order, must regulate the grace of God 
 itself. To think otherwise, one must have a strangely 
 childish notion of the Divine infinitude. 
 
 In opposition to the view of Divine forgiveness here ad- 
 vanced, it may be said that evil once done not only tends 
 to reproduce evil in the doer, but also calls forth the repro- 
 bation of the Judge ; and therefore, as the consequences 
 of our deeds can not be evaded, this reprobation, as one of 
 these, ought to remain : in other words, that our sins do not 
 admit of Divine forgiveness. But, in answer to this objec- 
 tion, we reply that the forgiveness of the sinner is quite 
 compatible with the reprobation of his sin. The reproba- 
 tion which is merited by our sins remains in their very ten- 
 dency to reproduce themselves : it is reflected in the terrible 
 self-dissatisfaction of the sinner himself : in the pressure 
 which they increasingly put upon the soul, and in the bar- 
 rier which they raise to his repentance. These are the 
 strongest proofs of the Divine disapprobation : the penalty 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CUUmTIANITY. 165 
 
 which we pay for our indulgence in sin ; which the drunk- 
 ard, for example, feels weighing upon him to his infinite 
 distress, when he struggles, too often in vain, to be temper- 
 ate. In the hardness of that struggle, the sinner may be 
 said, figurativehj, to expiate his sin and to endure its pen- 
 alty ; and, at the same time, he is strengthened for that 
 endurance, by his faith in the goodness with which God 
 sympathizes with him in his struggle to escape those very 
 toils with which He has beset the path of sin, to make it 
 
 painful. 
 
 To meet the hardships connected with a course of amend- 
 ment, we need a great encouragement ; and that encour- 
 agement we derive from the knowledge that God is in 
 alliance with our better nature, that He wills our deliver- 
 ance from evil. But how do we obtain such a knowledge ? 
 The tendency of sin to beget new sin is a law of Divine 
 appointment, and might seem to prove that it is God's de- 
 sign to hold us to the sin we have committed, and to pun- 
 ish it by riveting it upon our souls. But then this law is 
 only the reverse, or negative, of that propitious law by 
 which good action tends to become habitual. We can not 
 separate even in idea the one from the other. Here, as else- 
 where, it is, as we have already said, one and the same law 
 which works both good and evil in our lives. It is one and 
 the same organ which makes us susceptible both of pain 
 and pleasure ; and so the same Divine constitution of our 
 nature, which is intended for the furtherance of our spirit- 
 ual life, may also minister to its hindrance. It is the same 
 moral order which encompasses, sustains, and controls men 
 however they may act, whether well or ill ; and it has been 
 justly said that man is no more independent of God and of 
 his order, when he transgresses, than when he obeys the 
 Divine will. The operation of this law, in the case of the 
 sinner, is sooner or later to make sin intolerable, and to 
 awaken in him the desire for deliverance from its burden. 
 
lOG THE HENOVATING POWER [sermok x. 
 
 Instead, therefore, of being a proof of God's will to hold 
 the sinner to his sin, and to hinder his repentance, it is 
 rather a proof that God is on the side of his efforts to 
 escape the bondage of sin ; a view of God's relation to the 
 sinner which expresses itself in the doctrine of forgiveness ; 
 and which, when apprehended, oftentimes fills the sinner 
 with joy, and becomes the pledge and instrument of his 
 victory over sin — the motive power of a true and thorough 
 repentance. 
 
 Nothing is more conspicuous in Christ's teaching than 
 the confidence which He places in man's ability to choose 
 the better part, however degraded he may be, however far 
 he may have strayed. Christ's faith in God was also, it is 
 evident, a faith in man. None knew better than He how 
 hard it is for a man to enter the kingdom of God ; in other 
 words, to grow strong in his weakness ; as we may see from 
 what He said of the camel passing through the needle's 
 eye. But none the less unhesitatingly, none the less author- 
 itatively, did He enjoin men to seek first the kingdom of 
 God, to keep the commandments, to take up the cross. One 
 who was steeped in sin, He enjoins to go and sin no more. 
 He credits even the most depraved with some spiritual 
 power ; with some capacity for goodness, however weak- 
 ened it may be, through long disuse, torpor, and self-indul- 
 gence. He believes in a spiritual force in men, latent it 
 may be, yet powerful enough to raise them above them- 
 selves, and all the help they need, or can possibly obtain, is 
 to be encouraged to exert that power ; and this encourage- 
 ment He places before them partly in his own example, and 
 partly in the assurance which He conveys to our souls that 
 the forgiveness of sins may be confidently laid hold of by 
 all who desire encouragement in the endeavor to forsake 
 them. For others — that is, for those who live without as- 
 piration, who only wish to obtain a discharge from the con- 
 sequences of their sins — forgiveness, we need not say, is a 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 167 
 
 mere nonentity, if it be not a snare. ' It may lull the con- 
 science into a false security, but it can have no effect what- 
 ever in releasing such persons from the deadliest conse- 
 quence of their sins, the tyrannous presence of sin itself 
 in the soul. What Christ's teaching amounts to is : that 
 nothing stands in the way of those who desire to break off 
 their sins by righteousness, except the outward and inward 
 opposition, which has been arrayed by the law of recom- 
 pense against their better endeavors. And that law, which 
 has seemed hitherto to operate against them, will begin to 
 operate in favor of those who honestly seek to grow in 
 righteousness. After the remarks already made on the sub- 
 ject, we do not need to say now whether there be such a 
 thing as expiation for past sins, in the sense of an objective 
 atonement. But this at least it is desirable to say, that we 
 can, in none but a highly figurative sense, apply the term 
 " expiation " to that amendment, however painful and labori- 
 ous, of which our faith in the Divine good-will is the motive 
 power. To make such an application of the term (as some 
 theologians seem inclined to do) is to infringe upon the 
 great evangelical idea of the freeness of the grace of God ; 
 to throw us back into the religion of law, and to bring us 
 once more under the dominion of the servile spirit. 
 
 The beginnings of good which we are encouraged to 
 make in the midst of evil are necessarily small and con- 
 temptible in all eyes but his who accepts the first faint in- 
 dications of the better will. But it is none the less true 
 that good may thus spring up, and that the evil which is 
 not fed at length ceases from remembrance. And though 
 what we reap is the same in kind as we sow, yet what we 
 reap is more than what we sow. For it is of the very 
 nature of seed of every kind to yield increase, to return 
 more than itself ; so tliat, under favoring circumstances of 
 soil and climate, it may produce a hundred-fold. Just so, 
 under the beneficent scheme of providence revealed in the 
 
168 THE RENOVATING POWER [seemon x. 
 
 gospel, the good which a man does may yield a hundred- 
 fold into his own bosom. All things work together for 
 good to him who takes courage and sets himself in single- 
 ness and simplicity of heart to do the will of God. 
 
 We see, then, that the guilt which we contract is not a 
 fate riveted upon the soul, but an incubus, a burden which 
 may be rolled off, though oftentimes with painful effort, 
 from our shoulders. God desireth not the death of the 
 wicked, but rather that they should turn to him and live ; 
 that is, attain to the true and pure and higher life. He 
 will judge the world in righteousness, and render to every 
 man according to his deeds, but He pities and forgives the 
 penitent, and extends to them his hand that they may walk 
 with trembling, faltering steps in the ways of holiness. By 
 virtue of the gracious constitution of things, which we have 
 depicted, there is a curative and reparative power by which 
 evil is transmuted, defects remedied, and new openings 
 made to good. And even the disabling and enslaving ef- 
 fects of sin upon the soul, that most deadly of its penalties, 
 may be eradicated by the exercise of that liberty and privi- 
 lege to which the gospel invites the sinner, of turning to 
 the supreme good. 
 
 Such is the theory of the religious life, and of the gos- 
 pel scheme. All the rest is mere form, phrase, and prag- 
 matism, to which we are in danger of attaching too much 
 fully more than of attaching too little importance. Ritual 
 and dogma may be so skillfully elaborated, so cunningly 
 adapted to the frailties and likings of the mass of mankind, 
 as to form the strength of the Churches, while they prove 
 the weakness of our Christianity — the cause, direct or indi- 
 rect, for example, why the non-Christian nations can dis- 
 cern in our civilization so little to admire or to copy. 
 Stripped of dogma, a creed may seem to be scanty, but not 
 too scanty if it serve to lift the moral life of man into like- 
 ness and fellowship with the Divine. Catholic theologians, 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. jqq 
 
 in the name of religion, demand more than tliis : namely, that 
 men should pay honor to God by the profession of an elab- 
 orate form of faith, and by the practice of an unproductive 
 cult or ritual. But it is a question whether such a view of 
 religion can be consistently held by Protestants. The Ref- 
 ormation was a protest, before the Diet of Spires, against 
 the degradation of Christianity. Luther broke with Rome 
 solely because it had lost its power to lift the life of man ; 
 because it trafficked with souls, and sanctioned all enormi- 
 ties. He made no attempt, it is well known, to create a new 
 theology. A sentiment of the deepest reverence for the 
 purely theological portions of the ancient creed was what 
 gave impulse to his reforming zeal. He took exceptions to 
 such portions of it only as seemed to him to be at variance 
 with the formal and material principles of Reformation, 
 and to lie at the root of the growing vices and corruptions 
 of Christendom. But the second Reformation will start 
 Avith a more sweeping principle, and proceed more thor- 
 oughly to work, for it will not only discard whatever of 
 the popular creed is hostile to the higher life, but it will 
 be a protest against making of any faith or dogma, which 
 is not necessary for the lifting of human life, a condition 
 of salvation. Men are gradually feeling their way to this 
 point ; and we are blind not to see that we are already in 
 the midst of this second Reformation, a Reformation all 
 the greater, because it cometh not with observation. 
 
 We are led to the conclusion that both ritual and doo-ma 
 should be simple, ministrant, and unobtrusive, that they may 
 not encroach too much on the proper sphere of religion, or 
 be substituted in its place, or exhaust that' spiritual force 
 in man which should be reserved for it. Enough if, in the 
 necessary acts of common worship, and of private devotion, 
 these give a popular, flexible, and vanishing expression to 
 the religious consciousness. But that consciousness itself is 
 fed from the deeper springs of reverence and sympathy, of 
 8 
 
170 THE EENOVATINa rOWER [sermon x. 
 
 personal love and trust ; which, welling np first in the soul 
 of Christ, have been derived from him to all who have 
 yielded to the attraction of the Cross, to an attraction which 
 propagates itself from one to another, even " without the 
 Word" (1 Peter iii, 1), by signs of a hidden life, not arti- 
 ficial, which the heart can decipher. 
 
 If it be thought that we have attributed to the doctrine 
 of the spiritual harvest a value too dominating, and a sweep 
 too wide, or that we have drawn from it inferences of a na- 
 ture too negative and destructive, we reply that it itself is 
 the most positive of doctrines ; that, by the unassailable 
 and commanding position which it occupies among the doc- 
 trines of religion, it supplies a sufiicient basis for the infer- 
 ences which have been drawn from it, and acts as a dam 
 against that dogmatic flood which threatens even now from 
 Rome and Oxford, as by a final effort, to carry all before it. 
 By holding to this fact of the spiritual harvest, we at once 
 reduce the dimensions of dogma, and make it to be felt that, 
 dogmatize and spiritualize as we may, we can not escape, 
 by a single jot or tittle, the responsibility which clings to 
 us, and that the help which dogma and ritual give us to 
 meet that responsibility is the exact measure of their truth 
 and value. 
 
 Well may we reverence the memory of Christ, as Me- 
 diator between God and man ; because He it was who, 
 from the depths of his own experience, imparted to men 
 the knowledge of God as our Father in heaven ; whose 
 property it is to forgive the trespasses of his children, 
 and to incline their feet into the path of righteousness. 
 But let us reject those dogmatic exaggerations of the doc- 
 trine which, in the hands of that Church which is strong 
 in the indisputable possession of historical right, have been 
 as a hammer to forge the chains of the " most formida- 
 ble spiritual despotism which the world has ever seen " ; 
 and by the retention of which, in spite of their inconsist- 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 171 
 
 ency with her own principle of life, the Church of the 
 Reformation has not only enfeebled her protest and her 
 claim to a higher right than the historical, but carries 
 within herself to this day the seeds of dissolution, and ex- 
 poses herself to the risk of disappearing again beneath the 
 rallying tide of Romanism. 
 
 But, indeed, the views expoimded lead us to regard 
 with very moderate respect, if not with much suspicion, 
 all rigid ecclesiastical organizations, which necessarily have 
 an ineradicable tendency to retard the progress of the race, 
 even when not avowedly altogether hostile to human lib- 
 erty and culture. If the generally accepted necessity for 
 such organizations may scare us from a disparaging view of 
 them, the irreconcilable feuds and mutual intolerance of the 
 Churches may go far, perhaps, to justify such a view. The 
 common life of man is the true form in which, and through 
 Avhich, religion has to shine and show itself. Such is the 
 purpose of God. Whereas the idea of the Church, as sup- 
 plying the form for a religious life, a life within the life, 
 separate from the common work-day life, rests ultimately 
 on a dualistic and unchristian basis ; and is a fugitive de- 
 vice — a devout imagination of man's heart. "We may rest 
 assured that the world would not be better, but a great deal 
 worse, than it is, if a conventual, ascetic, ecclesiastical, or 
 pietistic air were to pervade all its doings and institutions. 
 
 The formation of a truly noble and manly character 
 and individuality depends on our keeping in mind that we 
 are responsible for our actions, and on our resolutely accept- 
 ing that responsibility. If we imagine that our responsi- 
 bility may be transferred to other shoulders, all we can 
 expect to issue from such a doctrine is an effeminate and 
 spurious sentimentality ; a piety artificial, even when not 
 divorced from life and practice ; a religion which, if sin- 
 cere in the sense of being without hypocrisy or dissimula- 
 tion, is not sincere in the sense of being pure and undefiled. 
 
172 THE RENOVATING POWER [seemon x. 
 
 The hope of escaping responsibility for our vices and our 
 mistakes is what makes a devotee, not to say a saint. But 
 only he who feels that a necessity is laid upon him of bear- 
 ing his own burden, and helping others to bear theirs, may 
 hope to grow into that noblest work of God, the simply 
 honest man, the genuine disciple of Christ. 
 
 In conclusion, there is no occasion to fear that the ap- 
 prehension, in the form of scientific truths, of the law of 
 continuity, and of the Divine good-will implied in that law, 
 will make the act of faith less necessary to give to both 
 their practical influence over the life. We are at one with 
 those who regard faith, not as supplying the lack of evi- 
 dence to truths imperfectly authenticated or understood, 
 but as lending to truths which are theoretically received, 
 and more or less understood, their proper power over the 
 life and conduct. Our endeavor has been to show what 
 modifications of the popular construction of Christianity 
 are needed to bring it into harmony with the laws of men- 
 tal physiology. We regard Divine judgment and Divine 
 forgiveness, which is but a form or species of judgment, as 
 both alike regulated by law ; and law itself as identical 
 with the Avill of a living God. To stop short of this would 
 be to disown the light which science sheds upon human 
 destiny ; to go beyond this would be to leave no room in 
 human thought or practice for that religious principle which 
 is essential to our nature. The defense of popular Christi- 
 anity — and it is a sufficient defense — is, that it is popular ; 
 a figure or an allegory of the absolute truth which is en- 
 shrined in it. But the more that science spreads and estab- 
 lishes its claim to rule human thought, the more will it 
 become necessary to discriminate between the figure and 
 the thing itself ; and to acknowledge frankly the subjective 
 and symbolical character of the Dogma. In making this 
 acknowledgment to ourselves, while provisionally retaining 
 the popular and dogmatic forms of expression, we shall but 
 
MACKINTOSH.] OF CHRISTIANITY. 173 
 
 act upon the germinant suggestion of Luther, that things 
 which we do not fully understand we may yet represent 
 to ourselves under images, even though they may not ex- 
 actly tally with the images of which we make use for this 
 purpose.* 
 
 * " Wir mussen alle Dinge, die wir nicht kennen und wissen, durch Bil- 
 der fassen, ob sie gleich nicht so eben zutreffen, oder in Wahrheit also 
 seein, wie es die Bilder malen."— Luther, as quoted by Weisse, in his " Zu- 
 kunft der evangelischen Kircbe " 
 
174 AUTHORITY. [sermon xi. 
 
 XL 
 
 AUTHOKITY. 
 
 BY THE REV. W. L. m'fARLAN, LENZIE. 
 
 "Prove all things." — 1 Thessalonians v, 21. 
 
 The court in which our faculties of observation, re- 
 flection, discrimination sit as judges is recognized by an 
 increasing number of persons as that before which it is our 
 right to test the validity of all opinions presented for our 
 acceptance. There are still, however, on the other hand, 
 some who refuse to acknowledge the supremacy of the court 
 thus constituted, and who maintain, in opposition to the 
 claims of the judges within the breast to be supreme in all 
 matters of belief, the right of powers without it finally to 
 decide for us what is true and what is false. In other words, 
 the old controversy between the rights of private judgment 
 and the rights of authority is still unsettled. Any contribu- 
 tion, consequently, toward the settlement of it, which a 
 Christian minister has to offer, may not be unacceptable to 
 the members of a Christian congregation. 
 
 I propose, accordingly, in the present discourse, to vin- 
 dicate the claims of the individual reason to supreme au- 
 thority over the beliefs of the individual. In my vindication 
 of them, I shall confine my observations to one sphere ex- 
 clusively — that of religion. It is unnecessary that I should 
 defend the rights of the individual reason in any other 
 department of human knowledge than the theological or 
 religious, because in all other departments these rights are 
 
m'farlan.J a nTIlORlTY. I75 
 
 acknowledged, theoretically at least. We attribute, no 
 doubt, a certain authority to experts in the various sciences. 
 Most of us are content to take pretty much at second-hand 
 our astronomy from the astronomer, our chemistry from the 
 chemist, our physiology from the physiologist. Or, to come 
 down to homelier matters, most of us when attacked by 
 disease intrust ourselves, with a confidence more or less im- 
 plicit, to the physician. Warned again by the proverb, 
 " He that is his own counsel hath a fool for his client," we 
 put our case in the hands of the lawyer when we are forced 
 in courts of justice to defend our rights or to redress our 
 wrongs. But, while we thus permit the professional man 
 and the scientific sjjecialist to exercise a certain authority 
 over our beliefs and over the conduct which is dependent 
 on our beliefs, the authority which we concede to them is 
 merely provisional. We change our medical or our legal 
 adviser so soon as we have or think that we have sufficient 
 cause for believing that the advice of the one or of the 
 other is erroneous. We do not place ourselves absolutely 
 at the mercy of those who popularize for us the various 
 sciences. The credence which we have given to the state- 
 ments of a lecturer on chemistry would be shaken, were we 
 to learn that they were contradicted by other competent 
 chemists. Nay, we always conceive it possible that we may 
 become chemists ourselves, that we may yet acquire such 
 knowledge of the science of chemistry as would enable us 
 intelligently to follow and justly to appraise the arguments 
 by which the statements and counter-statements of the 
 conflicting professors of it are respectively supported. We 
 do not, therefore, concede to professional practitioners in 
 law or medicine, nor to the professed teachers of any sci- 
 ence, an authority which is more than provisional ; neither 
 do we, avowedly, at all events, recognize in any of our fel- 
 low creatures a right to dictate to us our political beliefs. 
 Practically many of us, as to these beliefs, may be blindly 
 
176 AUTHOEITT. [sermon xi. 
 
 led by our favorite newspaper, or we may tamely submit to 
 the prevalent opinion of our class, or to the traditions of 
 our family. Theoretically, however, we all assert that in 
 regard to our political, as in regard to our scientific opinions, 
 we are not in bondage to any man. 
 
 There only remains the sphere of religion, it thus ap- 
 pears, in which it may turn out that men consciously sub- 
 mit to an authority which is more than provisional, and 
 disclaim the right of proving all things. To this sphere, 
 therefore, I shall restrict my remarks. In it we shall find 
 that the only supposed claimant, whose claims to supremacy 
 over our beliefs, in opposition to those of the individual 
 reason, it is worth our while to consider, is the Bible. The 
 spiritual descendants of the most strenuous of all the Re- 
 formers, we recognize neither in Church nor Council, Pope 
 nor priest, the right to impose upon us theological dogmas. 
 With the Covenanters most of us thoroughly sympathize, 
 in so far as they refused to accept, at the bidding of the 
 Stuart Princes, a doctrine, a worship, an ecclesiastical pol- 
 ity, which were distasteful to them, and indignantly de- 
 clined to be " of the King's religion," to borrow from the 
 great French autocrat — whom Charles and James were 
 anxious to imitate — a phrase which he was fond of using. 
 In a country in which dissent is rife and multiform, no 
 dissident minority has occasion to dread, on the part of a 
 tyrannous majority, interference with its " freedom to wor- 
 ship God." Neither, then, on behalf of the Church, nor of 
 the State, nor of public opinion, are claims to an absolute 
 authority over our religious beliefs openly urged in Protes- 
 tant Scotland. No doubt there is not a little of social in- 
 tolerance among us. Those who avow what are called infi- 
 del opinions are ostracized. The Socinian, even, is regarded 
 with a certain suspicion and dislike. Nay, there are still 
 circles in which every departure, however slight, from the 
 dogmas of the Westminster Divines, or, at all events, from 
 
M'FABLAN.] A UTHORITY. 177 
 
 some such modified creed, let us say, as that of the Evan- 
 gelical Alliance, are denounced as sinful. As the counter- 
 part of the impatience thus manifested toward those who 
 venture to diverge from the prevalent orthodoxy of the 
 day, we find in Scottish society a tendency to accept hlindly 
 the theological traditions handed down to us from the past, 
 and to receive as doctrines divine the opinions of the doc- 
 tors in divinity vrhora we have heen accustomed to revere. 
 This, practically, is the attitude of a large number of Scotch- 
 men toward the creeds of the past, or the popular theology 
 of the present. Theoretically, however, they disclaim all 
 title, whether on the part of the Puritan divines of the sev- 
 enteenth century, or of the Pan-Presbyterian doctors of the 
 nineteenth, to impose upon them their theological beliefs. 
 They derive these, they say, direct from the Bible, the only 
 rule of faith and manners. If they condemn misbelievers, 
 it is, they assure you, because misbelievers despise the au- 
 thority of the sacred Scriptures, not because they reject that 
 of any uninspired theologians, dead or living. 
 
 It is only to the Bible, then, that an authority superior 
 to that of reason and conscience is attributed among us — 
 in theory at least. To the Scriptures Protestants have con- 
 ceded the infallibility which they have denied to the Church. 
 The utterances of Scripture may in some cases, it is avowed, 
 be incomprehensible by the ordinary human faculties. They 
 may awaken no response in the higher reason of man. They 
 may excite repulsion even in his conscience. Still they pro- 
 ceed, it is alleged, from the eternal reason. They express 
 a knowledge which exists in the Divine mind. They are 
 truths which have been supernaturally communicated to the 
 specially guided or the specially gifted. They ought, there- 
 fore, to receive unquestioning assent from all who would be 
 of the household of faith. Not only must all that the Scrip- 
 tures teach about morality and religion, about man's rela- 
 tions to God and the duties which he owes him, be thus 
 
178 AUTHORITY. Fsermon xi. 
 
 without question accepted — there must be no caviling, 
 either at anything they have to tell us in regard to the era 
 or the manner of the world's creation, the chronology of 
 primeval times, the history of the judges and the kings of 
 Israel, the origins of Christianity and the controversies of 
 the primitive church. All their statements alike must re- 
 ceive implicit credence, for all alike were written by penmen 
 who had access to the mind of Omniscience, and were in 
 contact with it when they wrote. Human reason may be 
 legitimately employed in examining the evidences of the 
 Divine authorship of the Scriptures, and in interpreting 
 their contents ; but it can not be legitimately employed in 
 calling in question the veracity of any statement within the 
 boards of the sacred volume whose meaning has been ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 Such are the claims to an absolute authority in all mat- 
 ters of belief which are urged on behalf of the Bible by 
 those who hold the theory of its plenary inspiration and 
 verbal infallibility. I have stated that theory in all its 
 " rigor and vigor," but I do not think that I have carica- 
 tured it. It may seldom be obtruded upon us in these days 
 in its most uncompromising form. No preacher of any 
 pretensions to intelligence and culture now speaks of those 
 who wrote the Scriptures as though they were mere me- 
 chanical instruments of the Holy Ghost, automaton penmen 
 as it were, who performed the parts arranged for them just 
 as the automaton chess-players and card-players of whom 
 we read perform their parts in the manner designed by the 
 cunning mechanists who have formed and who work them. 
 It is the fact, nevertheless, I believe, that some such theory 
 of inspiration as that which I have described above is main- 
 tained by all who regard the whole Bible as the Word of 
 God, and therefore as entitled in all its parts to an author- 
 ity over the reason of man which is absolute and final. 
 
 Is this theory, we have now to ask, of the infallibility 
 
m'farlan.] authority. I79 
 
 of the Bible' valid ? Can we discover in the Scriptures an 
 external authority which shall supersede the internal au- 
 thority of reason and conscience ? That we may be able to 
 answer these questions, let us examine the grounds on which 
 those who claim for the Bible an absolute authority rest 
 their claim. Their argument, I take it, may be thus briefly 
 stated : Miracles are the credentials granted to those to 
 whom a Divine mission is intrusted. But it is attested by 
 persons who wrote within thirty or forty years of Christ's 
 death, and who suifered for their testimony, that Christ and 
 his apostles wrought miracles. Therefore we may conclude 
 that to them a Divine mission had been intrusted. Now, 
 persons intrusted with such a mission must, in executing it, 
 speak with absolute authority. In executing their mission 
 — in discharging their function, i. e., as religious teachers 
 sent from God — Christ and his apostles, it is recorded by the 
 credible witnesses mentioned above, claim for " the law and 
 prophets," i. e., for all the books of the Old Testament, it is 
 assumed, a Divine authority similar to that which their own 
 words possessed. Hence it follows that the entire Scrip- 
 tures both of the New Testament and the Old are authori- 
 tative, and true because authoritative. Such, in brief, is 
 the argument by which the theory of the infallibility of the 
 Bible is supported. The argument seems logically valid. 
 If the premises of the various syllogisms into which it might 
 have been developed are all statements which can be veri- 
 fied, the desiderated conclusion is unavoidable. The mis- 
 fortune is, that the premises in the concatenated argument 
 presented to you above can not be verified. They can not 
 be verified otherwise than by an appeal to human authority, 
 to the authority of the learned in our own day it may be, 
 or at all events ultimately to that of Fathers and Councils 
 of the Church which Protestants, by the necessity of their 
 position, disclaim. The ordinary reader of the Bible, if he 
 is to accept the argument in support of its verbal infallibil- 
 
180 ^ UTHORITY. " [sEEMON xi. 
 
 ity at all, must accept it from beginning to end, must ac- 
 cept it entire on the authority of the erudite. He can not 
 verify for himself the statements that the Gospels and the 
 Book of Acts were written within forty years even of 
 Christ's death ; that the record which they contain of the 
 miracles, alleged to have been wrought by Christ and his 
 apostles, is one on whose truthfulness we can implicitly 
 rely ; that the report which they give him of their sayings 
 in general is thoroughly accurate ; that their report of the 
 words in particular, in which the divinely commissioned 
 teachers of the New Testament affirm, it is supposed, the 
 infallibility of all the books of the Old Testament, is a cor- 
 rect representation of their teaching on that subject. On 
 all these points the ordinary reader of the Bible is depen- 
 dent on students who are learned and leisured. How can he 
 satisfy himself that the learned men, on whose authority he 
 rests his belief in the Bible's authority, are the most learned 
 men he can find ? There is no consensus of the erudite in 
 regard to that theory of an infallible Bible, to which he is 
 asked to pin his faith. Far from it. The theory aforesaid, 
 which, by dint of much erudition, one school of theologians 
 think that they have established, another school of theolo- 
 gians affirm that they, by dint of greater erudition, have 
 demolished. If, therefore, the ordinary reader of the Bible 
 is to accept the theory of its verbal infallibility, he must 
 accept it by attributing a practical infallibility to the divines 
 of the school to which he has arbitrarily given the prefer- 
 ence. More than this. The learned men themselves who 
 have formulated the theory in question are ultimately de- 
 pendent upon human authority for their belief in it. The 
 right of each of the books which make up the Scriptures to 
 a place in the sacred canon can be established only by the 
 authority of the early Councils of the Church — by the au- 
 thority, indeed, of the early Fathers of the Church, whose 
 opinions in regard to the date and the authorship of the 
 
m'farlan.] authority. 181 
 
 various books in the Bible were adopted by the Councils 
 wbich decided as to the canonicity of each. It is only on 
 the authority of these Fathers, therefore, that they rest their 
 belief in the early date of the Gospels and the Book of Acts. 
 It is only on their authority also, it follows, that they can 
 satisfy themselves as to the accuracy of the narratives which 
 contain records of the miracles wrought by Christ and his 
 apostles. Now, these miracles, according to the theory we 
 are discussing, are the attestation of the Divine mission of 
 the Founder of our religion and his immediate followers. 
 The conclusion, therefore, is inevitable, that the advocates 
 of the infallibility of the Bible must ultimately accept on 
 human authority the proposition on which the whole stress 
 of their argument in favor of it rests — the proposition, 
 namely, that it is proved, by the miracles which Christ and 
 his apostles wrought, that they had such access to the mind 
 of Omniscience as made them absolutely infallible in all 
 they said and wrote. Whatever, therefore, may be said in 
 favor of the theory which represents the Bible as true be- 
 cause authoritative, it can not be affirmed of it that it is 
 consistent with the principles of Protestantism. 
 
 The Reformers entertained no such theory in regard to 
 the Scriptures. They appealed from the Church to the 
 Bible, no doubt. They professed to derive all their the 
 ology from the latter, and not from the fomer. But they 
 regarded the Bible not as true because authoritative, but 
 as authoritative because true, Luther's views in regard to 
 the canon were what many in these days would consider 
 lax. Well-informed persons are aware that he Avas inclined 
 to exclude from the canon the Revelation of John. Every 
 one knows in what contemptuous terms he spoke of the 
 Epistle of James. The Westminster Divines adhere to a 
 doctrine which was substantially identical with that of the 
 great Reformer. These astute logicians perceived that, had 
 they adopted the opposite doctrine and maintained that the 
 
182 AUTHOEITY. [sermon xi. 
 
 Bible was true because authoritative, they would have been 
 compelled ultimately to submit, in one form or another, to 
 the dictation of the Church, whose right to dictate to men 
 their beliefs they and their spiritual progenitors had so 
 strenuously denied. They therefore held that the Bible 
 was authoritative because true. " The authority of the 
 holy Scripture," they say, " for which it ought to be be- 
 lieved and obeyed, dependeth not upon the testimony of 
 any man or church, but wholly upon God (who is truth it- 
 self), the author thereof" ; and again, " Our full persuasion 
 and assurance of the authority of Scripture is from the in- 
 ward work of the Holy Spirit, bearing witness by and with 
 the word in our hearts," This is remarkable language. 
 When it is translated out of the dialect of the seventeenth 
 century, which the Divines of Westminster spoke, into that 
 of the nineteenth century, which we speak, it amounts, I 
 think, substantially to this : that the Scriptures are authori- 
 tative only in so far as they are true. The distinction be- 
 tween the human and the Divine elements in Scripture was 
 not of course so distinctly recognized, either by the Re- 
 formers or the Westminster Divines, as it is by thoughtful 
 theologians in our own times. That distinction had not 
 been forced upon the attention of the former as it has been 
 forced upon the attention of the latter, by the discoveries 
 of men of science and the investigations of Biblical critics. 
 Still, they assert, we have seen, that the chief assurance 
 which we — we, the elect in the dialect of their day, we, 
 the spiritually susceptible in the dialect of our day — have 
 of the " divine authority of Scripture is from the inward 
 work of the Holy Spirit, bearing witness by and with the 
 word in our hearts." And this language they must have 
 perceived was totally inapplicable to such portions of Scrip- 
 ture as the descriptions of the dimensions and furniture of 
 the tabernacle in Leviticus, the genealogies of Chronicles, 
 the historical narratives, even, of the Old Testament, in their 
 
m'farlan.J AUTHOUITl. 183 
 
 details at least, the purely historical and the apocaljptic 
 sections of the New Testament itself. We may claim, 
 therefore, to have the Westminster Divines with us, when 
 we assert that the Scriptures are authoritative because true, 
 and only in such portions of them as awaken a response in 
 those in whom reason and conscience, the faculties by which 
 alone ti'uth can be discerned, have been duly developed. 
 
 This doctrine of the Westminster Divines in regard 
 to the Bible is really that of all simple and devout souls. 
 They find in the Bible manifold revelations of God, which 
 awaken a resj^onse in their conscience, and confirm those 
 prepossessions of their spiritual nature, loyal trust in which 
 alone deserves the name of faith. Finding in the Bible 
 many revelations which need no testimony from without 
 as to their truth, they probably speak of the Bible as a 
 whole as the revelation of God. Quite possibly they em- 
 ploy phrases borrowed from that theory of verbal inspira- 
 tion which is, we may say, an article of luxury fabricated 
 by those who are at once learned and leisured for their own 
 use and delectation : but that theory in reality has over 
 them but little influence. Its phrases upon their lips are 
 not scientific propositions to be interpreted with rigid accu- 
 racy. They are the mere hyperboles of affection, its fervid 
 exaggerations. For simple and pious souls in our own day, 
 as for the Psalmist of old, the law of the Lord, his word, 
 his testimonies, his statutes, his commandments, in which 
 they rejoice and take delight, finding them more precious 
 than gold, sweeter than honey, and the honey-comb, are 
 not the whole Bible, but those portions of the Bible only 
 which they have found in their experience helpful to their 
 souls. All who have a love for the Bible which is that of 
 the heart and not merely of the lips, that of the closet stu- 
 dent of it, and not of the platform spouter about it, have 
 their favorite books and portions of books, and these alone 
 are to them Divine revelations. Through these portions of 
 
184 AUTHORITY. [sermon xi. 
 
 Scripture God speaks to their souls with authority, but in 
 their souls they feel that they are divinely authoritative 
 only because they are divinely true. 
 
 This is the manner in which men and women, who are 
 pious without being learned or leisured, regard their Bi- 
 bles ; so long at least as they remain unsophisticated in 
 spirit by the votaries of the fine-spun theories we have been 
 discussing. In a manner essentially similar, men and wo- 
 men who are more highly educated, though they do not 
 pretend to great erudition, regard their Bibles. What the 
 former class of persons vaguely feel, the latter class of 
 persons intelligently discern. After much reading and 
 more reflection, they have satisfied themselves that the 
 theory of the verbal' inspiration of the Bible, in vogue dur- 
 ing the last and the first half of the present centuries — the 
 theory, that is, which attributes to every utterance in the 
 Bible an absolute authority ah extra over the minds of 
 men — is untenable. The Councils, they hold, which set- 
 tled the canon, have failed to prove irrefragably that the 
 Gospels and the Book of Acts were written before the close 
 of the first century. Consequently they can not be certain 
 that all the words in them attributed to Christ and his 
 apostles were really the words they spoke, undiluted, un- 
 distorted, unexaggerated. Neither can they be absolutely 
 sure that the miracles ascribed to them were actually 
 wrought by them. They can not, therefore, accept the 
 words which Christ is reported to have spoken, nor those 
 which the apostles unquestionably wrote, as the utterances 
 of teachers, who can be proved by the miracles they wrought 
 to have had such access to the mind of Omniscience as made 
 them absolutely infallible in all they said and wrote. The 
 argument for the infallibility of the Old Testament falls 
 with that for the infallibility of the New, for the argument 
 for the infallibility of the former rests either on assertions 
 of it m the latter, which are attributed to Christ and his 
 
m'faelan.J authority. 185 
 
 apostles, or on predictions concerning Christ, which pre- 
 dictions the former contain and the latter allege were ful- 
 filled. 
 
 But, while the intelligent and open-minded Protestants 
 of whom I speak at present can not recognize as valid the 
 argument in favor of the verbal infallibility of the Bible, 
 they cherish for the Bible a profound reverence. The 
 Scriptures contain, they believe, a revelation to man of 
 those truths which it most concerns him to know. Even 
 though, as the advanced critic alleges, none of the Gospels 
 were written before the second century — though, conse- 
 quently, they can not feel certain that any of them report 
 with absolute accuracy Christ's words, or record, without 
 adding some elements of the legendary and mythical, his 
 deeds — they yet recognize in many of the sayings and dis- 
 courses attributed to Christ the words of a Divine teacher, 
 in his works as a healer of disease a Divine beneficence, in 
 his life as a whole a Divine life. Many of Christ's words 
 as reported in the Gospels are so remarkably illustrated by 
 many of his deeds recorded there, his character harmonizes 
 so wonderfully with his teaching, that they are forced to 
 regard the narratives of the evangelists as substantially 
 truthfiil, in so far as they present to us a picture of the 
 personality of Christ. And that personality, they think, is 
 a revelation to man as to what God is, as to what he ought 
 to be. Through it there was introduced into the world, 
 they hold, afe once a purer conception of the Divine char- 
 acter, and loftier ideals of human life and conduct. Christ's 
 personality as presented in the Gospels introduced these 
 truths into the world, they further perceive, as his teaching 
 by itself could not have done. For — 
 
 " Truth in closest words shall fail, 
 Where truth embodied in a tale 
 Shall enter in at lowly doors." 
 
186 AUTHORITY. [sekmon xi. 
 
 Thus in the Gospels especially do those who are forced by 
 the investigations of the Biblical critic to reject the theory 
 of verbal inspiration, or any approximation to it, yet find a 
 revelation of Divine truths. But in all Scripture these 
 highly-educated Christians, as well as simpler Christians, 
 find scattered here and there similar revelations. In the 
 Psalms and the discourses of the prophets, in which Christ's 
 teaching concerning the righteousness of God, God's care 
 for man, the purity of heart and life which He demands of 
 him, are anticipated, as it were ; in the writings of the 
 apostles, which not only reenforce Christ's teachings, but 
 which present them in new lights, we may say, and show 
 how his ideal of the Divine life can be realized in circum- 
 stances more closely analogous to our own than those of 
 the Galilean peasants to whom He first proclaimed it — in 
 the Scriptures, that is, which stand on either side of the 
 Gospels — they find a revelation of Divine truths. They 
 reverence the Scriptures as a whole, because there is so 
 much more in them than in any other book which " finds 
 them," to use Coleridge's well-known phrase, " at the deep- 
 est depths of their being." But, while they recognize a 
 Divine element in the Scriptures, they recognize a human 
 element as well. They do not attach an equal value to all 
 portions of them. They do not place the Books of Esther 
 and Daniel on the same level with the Psalter. They do not 
 claim for the writers of Chronicles an inspiration equal to 
 that of the second Isaiah, or even the first. They do not 
 pretend to find in the historical books of the Old Testa- 
 ment as much edification as in the letters of Paul, nor in 
 the theological disquisitions of Paul himself so much fur- 
 therance of the higher life at. in the more practical portions 
 of his Epistles. They do not affirm that the common-sense 
 philosophy of the Book of Proverbs, serviceable though it 
 be in many respects, is of equal worth with the spiritual 
 teachings of Christ. While they admit that there are im- 
 
M'FARLAN.J AUTHOBITY. 187 
 
 portant truths of morality and religion embodied in tlic 
 Pentateuch, they admit also that its authors attribute an 
 importance to the ceremonial parts of religion which is 
 wholly at variance with the loftier conceptions of the Di- 
 vine requirements entertained by the prophets ; and that 
 they, in common with the authors of all the historical 
 books, and indeed with the prophets themselves, both in 
 their estimates of human character and their interpretations 
 of the Divine dealings with man, sometimes fail to set be- 
 fore us an ideal of life and conduct which is pure and ele- 
 vated. 
 
 Enlightened Christians in the present day feel that in 
 this manner they are entitled to deal with the Scriptures. 
 They claim the right to judge each of their utterances in 
 the light of their own Christian consciousness, and to deny 
 Divine authority to any of them which fall beneath the 
 ethical standards which, as men illuminated by the spirit of 
 Christ, they have set up for their own guidance. They 
 deny all Divine authority, I may add, to those portions of 
 Scripture which treat of matters which belong more prop- 
 erly to science and history than to religion. The Christian 
 consciousness, in the light of which they claim to judge 
 the Scriptures, they admit has been developed chiefly by 
 the Scriptures. It is a spiritual inheritance which belongs 
 to them as men christianly educated, as men, besides, who 
 are descended from generations of the christianly educated. 
 There is nothing, however, in this admission on their part, 
 that the Scriptures have been of highest service to them, 
 which is inconsistent with their denial, on the other hand, 
 that the Scriptures as a whole are infallible, and therefore 
 in all their utterances authoritative. It is not the Scrip- 
 tures as a whole, they maintain, but the higher teachings in 
 them only, which have generated the Christian conscious- 
 ness in themselves, in the society to which they belong. 
 Nothing, they are persuaded, has done so much to retard 
 
188 AUTHOEITT. [sermon xi, 
 
 the development of the Christian consciousness in the Prot- 
 estant sections of Christendom as the superstitious rever- 
 ence for the Bible prevalent among Protestants. It is one 
 of the strongest arguments, they think, against the theory 
 of verbal inspiration, that, by inducing its readers to attach 
 a like value and a like authority to all portions of the Bi- 
 ble, it has had this injurious influence on society. Grate- 
 fully recognizing all that the Scriptures have done for the 
 race — perceiving how they have introduced into the world 
 the purest conceptions of the Divine nature and the loftiest 
 ideals of human character which it has known, going to 
 them, therefore, with a profound but with no superstitious 
 veneration — the enlightened Christians, of whom I have 
 been speaking, discover in them ever fuller and deeper 
 meanings. Holding the views in regard to the Scriptures 
 which they hold, they may be unable to deduce from them, 
 in the shape of a dogmatic system, a theory of the Uni- 
 verse which they can impose upon their neighbors as com- 
 plete and final. They do find in them, however, and in the 
 Christian consciousness in the formation of which they 
 have had the chief part, a working theory of life which is 
 most helpful. Reading in the light of that consciousness 
 the Psalter, the Prophets, the Epistles, the sayings of 
 Christ, they never fail to find in them that which all ear- 
 nest men and women most want — help amid life's practical 
 difficulties, comfort amid its sorrows, the assurance of the 
 forgiveness of its sins, quickening of its loftiest aspirations 
 after the divine. The Bible, they acknowledge, is thus full 
 of revelations to the devout soul : but they hold that those 
 portions of it only are revelations to them which awaken a 
 response in the conscience and higher reason. Such is the 
 attitude assumed by many enlightened Protestants in our 
 own day toward the Bible. It is an attitude, I believe, es- 
 sentially similar to that which was assumed by the Reform- 
 ers in the sixteenth century. The modern Protestant may 
 
m'farlan.] 
 
 A UTIIORITY. 189 
 
 assert more boldly than the primitive Protestant that the 
 Bible is authoritative only in so far as it is true. But true 
 Protestants, both of the earlier period and of the later, 
 agree in maintaining that the Bible is authoritative because 
 true, and not true because authoritative. 
 
 With these conclusions, at which many enlightened 
 Protestants in our day have arrived in regard to the Scrip- 
 tures, I agree in the main. The doctrine which they hold 
 in commo^n with the Reformers, the doctrine that the Scrip- 
 tures are authoritative because true, I heartily accept. The 
 only authority, I must maintain, which we can attribute to 
 any of their utterances is that of its inherent reasonableness. 
 I can discover no better. 
 
 This proposition seems to me much more reasonable than 
 ^the counter-proposition of the advocates of the Bible's ver- 
 bal infallibility. These theorists assert in effect that men 
 can not be sure that light is light, until some one armed 
 with authority tells them that it is so : that they can not 
 know that truth is truth until the speaker of it is accredited 
 by signs from heaven. Such an assertion, whatever sem- 
 blanc'e of humility it may wear, is really dishonoring to 
 God. Those who accept it pour contempt upon their Maker, 
 by refusing to put forth, on the highest and grandest sub- 
 jects, the powers which He has conferred upon them for 
 the discernment of truth. The human faculties, I am 
 aware, are finite, and fallible as well as finite. Still, limited 
 though these faculties are, and liable to error, they are the 
 only Instruments by which men can grapple with knowledge 
 and make it their ovm. In refusing to apply them to the 
 grandest of all questions which can occupy the attention, 
 they virtually express their disbelief in any Divine illumina- 
 tion granted to all sincere seekers for the truth. They have 
 placed themselves, they say, under the guidance of the in- 
 spired penmen. But their belief in the inspiration of the 
 sacred writers rests not on the inherent reasonableness of 
 
190 AUTHORITY. [sermon xi. 
 
 the statements they make, but on the authority of some 
 ancient doctor of the Church, who assures them that the 
 books which bear the names of lawgivers, and apostles, and 
 prophets, are entitled to a place in the sacred canon. This, 
 I hold, is to abandon the Protestant position. It is to ac- 
 knowledge the authority of our fellow-men speaking with- 
 out, as superior to that of reason and conscience speaking 
 within. It is to call some other than God father, some other 
 than Christ master. 
 
 There are many departments of knowledge on which we 
 must to a considerable extent be dependent, provisionally 
 at least, on our fellow-men for our opinions. In regard to 
 theology, however, the case is different. It suggests ques- 
 tions which none can be content to answer at second-hand, 
 without damage to their spiritual life — which none can suc- 
 ceed in answering at first-hand, without manifest advantage 
 to their spiritual life. What is the chief end of man ? 
 What is God ? How does God enable man to attain the 
 true end of his being ? These are questions which serious- 
 minded men and women can not allow theological experts 
 to answer for them. They can not lazily accept, as their 
 replies to them, the replies which have been made by an 
 Athanasius, an Augustine, a Calvin, nor even those which 
 have been made by the evangelists who profess to report 
 the words of Christ, nor by a man of such profound spirit- 
 ual insight as Paul. Help they may get from prophets and 
 apostles, from ancient saints and doctors, from the divines 
 of the sixteenth century, from the theologians and philoso- 
 phers of the nineteenth, in their attempts to answer the 
 questions enumerated above. It is sheerest folly to reject 
 their assistance, or to treat with contempt the conclusions 
 at which the great and good, the devout and thoughtful, 
 have ai'rived on the greatest of all subjects. Still, serious- 
 minded men and women can not accept, in any blind and 
 unintelligent submission to the authority of celebrated, or 
 
m'farlan.] AUTIIOniTT. 19] 
 
 even of sacred names, the answers which have been made 
 to the great questions in theology. They must work out 
 its problems, which are the problems of life, for themselves. 
 They must prove all things for themselves, grappling with 
 the difficulties which modern speculation suggests, and with 
 those sorer difficulties which are raised by their own expe- 
 riences of suffering and sorrow, of the evil which is within 
 them and around them. Not, it may be, till after long 
 struggle with these difficulties shall those who engage in 
 the intellectual and spiritual warfare of our age be able to 
 answer the all-important problems of which I have spoken, 
 or to give any adequate account to themselves of the mean- 
 ing of their lives in this strange world. They shall, how- 
 ever, through toil and storm, reach at length the serener 
 air. They shall come at last, through the conflict with 
 doubt, to call something like a faith their own. The cer- 
 tainties of that faith may be few, but they are sufficient to 
 form a working theory of life, and they are more helpful 
 than the most minute and elaborate creed taken up at sec- 
 ond-hand. 
 
 But is it not dangerous, some one asks, to abandon the 
 theory of verbal inspiration, and to deny the existence of 
 any authority superior to the reason and conscience of man ? 
 There can be no real danger, the genuine Protestant replies, 
 ^ following truth whithersoever it may lead us ; and, if 
 there be no authority in which men can more implicitly 
 trust than the christianly-enlightened conscience, it is well 
 that they should recognize the fact. After all, the coura- 
 geous Protestant goes on to urge, men need not be under 
 any alarm because they are forced to abandon the notion of 
 a verbally infallible Bible. To simple and devout souls the 
 Bible will still be the Book of Life, whatever theory in 
 regard to its inspiration the thoughtful and the cultured 
 may adopt. From its higher teachings they will continue 
 to receive counsel and consolation, guidance amid the per- 
 
192 -4 VTHORITY. [sermon xi. 
 
 plexities of their daily life, and strength to bear its trials. 
 The divine element in it will now, as heretofore, quicken 
 their spiritual life. The human element in it, with its ad- 
 mixture of error, will probably cause them less and less of 
 pain and disturbance, the more completely they are enabled 
 to free themselves from the superstitious conception of ple- 
 nary inspiration. To men of mind less simple than those 
 referred to above, to men who from natural temperament 
 crave for systematic completeness in their views, the de- 
 struction of the doctrine of verbal infallibility may prove a 
 rude shock. That shock may prostrate them. They may 
 lose in consequence of it all intellectual nerve, so to speak. 
 Unable any longer to feel themselves in possession of fixed 
 opinions on many matters about which men naturally desire 
 to be certain, they may grow morbidly impatient. In their 
 impatience they may betake themselves not improbably to 
 Rome, and become the slaves of its spiritual despotism. 
 This conduct is not unnatural in men of their peculiar in- 
 tellectual temperament, but it is unmanly. It is a cowardly 
 abandonment of the field on which the good fight of faith 
 is fought. Men of firmer intellectual fiber, who feel that 
 with the demolition of the doctrine of the Bible's verbal in- 
 fallibility the entire theological system which had seemed 
 to them an intellectual home and place of safety is reduced 
 to ruin, adopt a different course. They accept the new 
 position. Driven from the dogmatic structure which had 
 sheltered them so long, they throw up an earthwork of per- 
 sonal conviction to screen them from the assaults of that 
 practical atheism which is deadly to the soul. Of the two 
 courses, that of the pervert to Catholicism, and that of the 
 man who is resolved to have no theology which he can not 
 base on personal conviction, the latter is the nobler and the 
 manlier. It is the safer one, too, for that matter. It is 
 better for all who have in them any capacity for a lofty 
 intellectual and spiritual life to be out in the open, than to 
 
M'FARLAlf.J AUTHORITY. ]93 
 
 be confined within the dogmatic fortresses, whicli are in 
 fact prison-houses, dungeons of the soul. Let them stand 
 fast behind their temporary shelter, and, having done all, 
 let them stand. They shall be enabled to advance ere long 
 to a stronger position, which is still one which a freeman 
 need not be ashamed to occupy. Meanwhile let them stand 
 — let them cleave to whatever convictions they may have 
 made really their own, should they be only these — that 
 righteousness is blessedness, that integrity is worth retain- 
 ing, that there are things pure, just, honest, lovely, which 
 a man should think of and follow after. To those who 
 cleave to these simple convictions, others will be added. 
 They shall find these words true in their experience : " If 
 any man will do the will of God, he shall know of the doc- 
 trine whether it be of God." They shall discover for them 
 selves that there is a Divine authority in Christ's doctrine, 
 that man has a Father in heaven, who is righteous with a 
 righteousness which He intends to be theirs — who is seek- 
 ing to make them righteous with that righteousness — per- 
 fect as He is perfect. To those whose appetite for dogma 
 is large, this creed may seem meager and unsatisfying. It 
 is more genuine and more serviceable, however, than that 
 of those who accept, in submission to the authority avow- 
 edly of their Church, or professedly of their Bible, all the 
 decrees of the Council of Trent, or all the articles of the 
 Assembly of Westminster. It is the creed of one who can 
 say with the old Hebrew seer and poet, " I have heard of 
 Thee with the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye secth 
 Thee." It is the creed, consequently, of a man whose 
 Protestantism has in it a genuine intellectual and spiritual 
 
 life. 
 
 9 
 
194 TEE THINGS WEIGH [sermon xn. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE THINGS WHICH CAN NOT BE SHAKEN. 
 
 BY THE REV. W. L. M'fARLAN, LENZIE. 
 
 " That those things which can not be shaken may remain." 
 
 Heb. xii, 27. 
 
 That the old theologies are being shaken by the new 
 sciences is a fact which is patent to the most superficial 
 observation. The assaults which are made by the students 
 of the sciences, natural and biblical, upon the dogmatic 
 theology of the past, are dealt with in different ways by 
 observers of different classes. They are angrily denounced 
 by one class as the wanton attacks of the wicked upon the 
 religion of Christ. They are soberly welcomed by another 
 as instrumentalities, somewhat rough in their operation, by 
 which the religion of Christ is being purified from the cor- 
 ruptions which have attached themselves to it. They are 
 enthusiastically hailed by a third as agencies which will 
 effect the destruction of the religion of Christ, viewed by 
 them as an obsolete superstition. What the position is, 
 which is occupied by observers of the second or middle 
 class, I shall endeavor in the present discourse to define. 
 This class includes within it many of the religious teachers 
 in all the Churches. To what extent, we have to inquire, 
 do such reliorious teachers admit that the old beliefs in which 
 they were indoctrinated are endangered by the new theories 
 which, it is alleged, must supersede them entirely ? They 
 admit, I may venture to reply for them, that, in so far as 
 
M'FARLAJf.J CAN NOT BE SHAKEN. 195 
 
 these beliefs were embodied in the dogmas of scholastic 
 theology, the)^ must be abandoned or greatly modified. The 
 sections of that theology which treat of sin and salvation 
 they regard as specially untenable. These sections compre- 
 hend the following dogmas : (1) the descent of man from 
 the Adam of the Book of Genesis ; (2) the fall of that 
 Adam, from a state of original righteousness, by eating the 
 forbidden fruit ; (3) the imputation of Adam's guilt to all 
 bis posterity ; (4) the consequent death of all men in sin ; 
 (5) the redemption in Christ of an election according to 
 grace ; (6) the quickening in the elect of a new life — {a) at 
 their baptism. Catholics affirm— (J) at the moment of their 
 conversion, most Protestants allege ; (7) the eternal pun- 
 ishment and perdition of those who remain unregen^rate. 
 These sections of the traditional theology of Christendom 
 — originally elaborated by Augustine, amended and devel- 
 oped by the schoolmen of the middle ages, adopted whole- 
 sale by the Puritans — dominated the Christian intellect for 
 centuries. They have ceased to dominate it. They no 
 longer press on the minds and spirits of men like an incubus. 
 At the Reformation, the whole of the mighty theological 
 fabric which the subtilty of the schoolmen had reared be- 
 gan to be subjected to a process of disintegration as it were, 
 a trace of which may be detected in the Protestant modifi- 
 cation of the Catholic doctrine in regard to the moment at 
 which regeneration takes place, to which allusion has been 
 made above. Ever since the Reformation, the spu'it of free 
 inquiry has been destroying, bit by bit, the structure of 
 scholastic theology. During the last quarter of a century 
 she has been attacking it with hands more than ever bold 
 and busy. In consequence of her attacks the ancient struc- 
 ture is now apparently tottering to its fall. It is no longer, 
 at all events, an impregnable dungeon fortress of the mind, 
 a kind of spiritual Bastile, so to speak, in which the Chris- 
 tian intellect is hopelessly immured. With comparative ease 
 
196 THE THINGS WHICH [sermon xii. 
 
 men can break that hoary prison-house, and find the liberty 
 which they crave, to interpret Scripture for themselves, to 
 think for themselves. We observe, accordingly, that con- 
 clusions of the school divines, which the Reformers did not 
 venture to question, are denied outright by the leaders of 
 modern theological thought, and that many Protestants of 
 the nineteenth century reject theological dogmas of theirs, 
 which almost all Protestants of the sixteenth century un- 
 hesitatingly accepted. 
 
 Among the discredited dogmas of the schoolmen, those 
 in regard to the origin and the nature of human sinfulness 
 have, as has been already stated, a foremost place. Vari- 
 ous causes are conducing to the rejection of those ancient 
 ecclesiastical beliefs. It seems, in the first place, to an 
 increasing number of intelligent persons, that Science has 
 established her right to claim for man an antiquity so great 
 as to be wholly incompatible with the scriptural account of 
 a first progenitor of the human race, who was created, and 
 who sinned and fell, some six thousand years previous to 
 the present date. It seems to them, in the second place, 
 that all investigations into the condition of man during 
 these millenniums, many more than six, throughout which 
 the human race has occupied the earth and left vestiges of 
 its occupancy, prove that the path trodden by mankind has 
 been one upward and not downward ; disprove, in other 
 words, the doctrine that the race has lapsed from a state of 
 paradisaic innocence, of primeval wisdom and integrity, such 
 as that which Jewish Rabbis, and after them doctors of the 
 primitive Church, mediaeval schoolmen, Puritan divines, 
 have imagined. Independently, however, of all scientific 
 conjectures as to the origin of the human race, as to the 
 condition of prehistoric man, as to the progress of mankind 
 through successive stages of intellectual and moral growth, 
 the old theological doctrine of the fall of Adam, and the 
 consequent death in sin of all his posterity, seems, in these 
 
m'farlan.J can not BE SHAKEN. 197 
 
 days, to many men and women of cultivated intelligence, 
 untenable. The spread of democratic ideas has rendered 
 impossible for them the belief in hereditary demerit any 
 more than in hereditary merit. They admit of course the 
 hereditary transmission, from generation to generation, of 
 habits, aptitudes for good or evil, qualities intellectual and 
 moral no less than physical. They deny, on the other hand, 
 the hereditary transmission of guilt or blameworthiness, 
 the imputation to the son of the sin of the father. They 
 refuse to believe that the Infinite Being of whom we speak 
 as the Moral Governor of the universe has dealt with the 
 successive generations of men as earthly sovereigns have 
 with the children of rebels, whom, in obedience to a politi- 
 cal exigency, real or imaginary, they have condemned to per- 
 petual poverty and disgrace. They reject the proposition 
 that the non-elect will, because of Adam's transgression, 
 be punished with " the everlasting punishment of eternal 
 fire." They hold with the old Hebrew prophet, as against 
 the scholastic divine, that, under his government* whose 
 " ways are equal," " the son shall not bear the iniquity of 
 the father." Their deepening conviction as to the perfect 
 goodness of the Almighty, as well as their belief in the in- 
 dependent, personal, non-hereditary relation of each human 
 spirit to the Father of Spirits, compels persons, of minds 
 devout as well as cultivated, to reject the scholastic doc- 
 trine of the imputation of the sin of Adam to all his poster- 
 ity. The Divine Spirit, such persons hold, has abandoned 
 no human spirit to endless and hopeless depravity, has not 
 suffered the human race, or any portion of it, to enter on a 
 career that is ceaselessly and inevitably downward. The 
 Maker of men, they believe, has implanted in all men the 
 consciousness of imperfection and shortcoming, the sense of 
 sin, which impels them to long and strive for better things. 
 He has thus been securing for the race, as a whole, moral 
 progress from age to age. He thus gives to us, concerning 
 
198 THE THINGS WHICH [sermon xn. 
 
 those individuals of the race even whose lives here have 
 seemed to end in failure, the hope of improvement here- 
 after. 
 
 The prevalent scientific beliefs, it thus appears, in re- 
 gard to the antiquity of man, and the moral and intellect- 
 ual development of the race, combined with the growth of 
 the democratic spii-it, and the spread of what may be named 
 humaner conceptions in regard to the Divine character and 
 the method of the Divine government of the world, have 
 rendered the dogmas of scholastic theology concerning the 
 nature and the origin of human sin incredible to many 
 minds. 
 
 Those who thus feel themselves constrained to reject the 
 scholastic dogmas in regard to sin can not, it is plain, ac- 
 cept those corollaries from them which, together, make up 
 the scholastic doctrine in regard to salvation. They recog- 
 nize the truth which is in these doctrines, in so far as they 
 assert the unconditional freedom of the Divine grace, or, in 
 other words, the Divine readiness to forgive and restore 
 the sinner. They believe in what has been called the om- 
 nipotence of repentance. They hold that, while the evil 
 consequences of a man's evil deeds dog his footsteps to his 
 dying day, there are yet ever open to the greatest sinner 
 the possibilities of entrance on a new and nobler life. They 
 assert, with Paul, that " the goodness of God is leading the 
 sinner to repentance." They use language of his still more 
 evangelical in its ring, and maintain that " God is in Christ 
 reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing unto men 
 their trespasses," not making, that is, the sins that are past 
 obstacles to his mercy, but causing his grace to superabound 
 over our many offenses. 
 
 But Avhile the modern theologians whose views I am en- 
 deavoring to expound thus use evangelical language, and 
 recognize a certain amount of truth in those scholastic dog- 
 mas concerning redemption which are popularly known as 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 199 
 
 the Gospel, they reject these dogmas when they are pre- 
 sented to them in scientific form and systematic complete- 
 ness, as constituting what is called "the scheme of salva- 
 tion." They decline to believe that there is unveracity in 
 the Divine dealings with man, or that God can count men 
 righteous on any other ground than that of the sincerity of 
 their repentance, and the reality of their endeavors after 
 new obedience. Christ, they hold, has died that men might 
 thus die with him, and live again. The scholastic notion, 
 however, that his sufferings constitute the exact arithmeti- 
 cal equivalent of the penalties incurred by the elect for 
 their sins, they reject as formal, unreal, un verifiable. The 
 whole of that latest development of theological scholasti- 
 cism, the Dutch covenant theology, with its solemn bar- 
 gainings between God and Adam, between God the Father 
 and God the Son, they regard as a fashion as quaint and 
 artificial as the Dutch landscape-gardening which along 
 with it came into vogue in the British Islands. 
 
 It is in vain to insist with those who, while they retain, 
 they believe, a genuine Christian faith, are yet not unsensi- 
 tive to the influences of the modern scientific spirit, that 
 those doctrines which they are willing to abandon are de- 
 rived from the teachings of Paul. They admit that Paul 
 does seem to countenance those doctrines of substitution 
 and imputation which they reject. But from Paul rabbin- 
 izing, they appeal to Paul speaking out of the depths of his 
 profound spiritual insight. Does Paul speak of the redemp- 
 tion which there is in Christ ? He there uses a figure, 
 which, they assert, is derived from the Levitical legislation 
 in regard to bondmen. This simile, however, they insist, 
 must not be made to run upon all-fours. Even where Paul's 
 simile is most elaborately developed by him, the systematic 
 divine is scarcely warranted, his opponents maintain, in as- 
 serting that the Pauline doctrine of redemption implies 
 persons bought back — sinners ; a person buying back — 
 
200 THE THINGS WHICH [sebmon xii. 
 
 God the Son ; a person to whom a price is paid — God the 
 Father ; the price paid — the penal sufferings of Christ in 
 the room of the elect. Does Paul, again, speak of Christ's 
 sufferings as sacrificial ? Again he uses a figure derived 
 from Levitical legislation ; but his use of it, the modern 
 theologian asserts, does not entitle the systematic divine to 
 formulate that doctrine of an arithmetical atonement which 
 he rejects. Paul's central and vital doctrines, the modern 
 theologian maintains, were not those of substitution and 
 imputation, however easy it may be to find for them a 
 plausible support in isolated sayings of his. His central 
 and vital doctrine was : Die, that you may live indeed. 
 Christ died for you, but only that you might die with him, 
 to your lower and worser selves, only that you might find 
 joy in mortifying your members that are upon the earth. 
 By his cross your affections and lusts are to be crucified. 
 By his cross you yourselves are to be crucified to all that is 
 low and evil. Through entering into the fellowshij) of his 
 suffering, you are to learn that in dying to self and living 
 for others you find truest blessedness. 
 
 This doctrine, that righteousness is blessedness, which 
 Paul is fond of stating in a somewhat paradoxical form, 
 insisting chiefly on the blessedness of righteousness on that 
 which may be named its negative side — repentance and self- 
 renunciation, the dying to our worser selves — is the state- 
 ment of a fact verifiable in human experience. It embodies 
 a truth which has been recognized by religious minds in all 
 ages. That truth had dimly dawned on the first son of 
 Israel's race M^ho perceived that the power working in the 
 world without him was the same with that power within, 
 whose voice he heard bidding him do right. It was more 
 clearly realized by the higher minds of Israel in each suc- 
 ceeding generation, as Israel's religious life grew in purity 
 and in intensity. It was a conviction which inspired and 
 stimulated the later prophets of Israel, strengthening them 
 
m'farlan.J can not BE SHAKEN. 201 
 
 • 
 
 for their work, finding expression in their noblest utter- 
 ances. It was, we may say, the central truth in the teach- 
 ing of Jesus. Any expressions which were given to it pre- 
 vious to Christ's day were, it may be affirmed, anticipations 
 of his teaching comparatively hesitating. The kingdom of 
 which the earliest discourses of Jesus were the annunciation 
 was the "kingdom which is within each heart that is swayed 
 and influenced by those conceptions of the pure, the just, 
 the honorable, the lovely in character, which by him were 
 introduced into the world. In so far as the divine kingdom 
 was an outward thing at all, it was the society of those who 
 were striving after the realization of that ideal righteous- 
 ness which Christ set before men as the mark of the prize 
 of their high calling. In his parables He describes the na- 
 ture of that kingdom which is peace and joy in the spirit, 
 because it is righteousness of the spirit ; and points out the 
 conditions of entrance into it, the helps and the hindrances 
 to its development in individual souls and in society. He 
 begins his Sermon on the Mount by an express proclama- 
 tion, we may say, of the truth that righteousness is blessed- 
 ness, which, it is my endeavor at present to prove to you, 
 is one of the things which can not be shaken. On each of 
 the dispositions which go to make up righteousness in the 
 largest sense of the term. He pronounces a special benedic- 
 tion. Meekness, mercifulness, purity of heart — each has its 
 attendant beatitude. The very desire to possess these and 
 kindred virtues insures blessedness, nay, is blessedness : for 
 those who hunger and thirst after righteousness are blessed 
 in the satisfaction of their spiritual cravings. And this 
 manifold blessedness, promised to righteousness, in its mul- 
 tiform manifestations is independent of the outward circum- 
 stances in which men's lives are spent. Poverty does not 
 deprive them of it. On the poor, indeed, a special bene- 
 diction is pronounced. Sorrow does not exclude it from 
 the heart, for sorrow has its divine compensations and 
 
202 TEE THINGS WHICH [seemon xii. 
 
 brings its special blessings. The persecutor can not steal it 
 from his victims by his calumnies. No tortures which his 
 malignity can invent will rob them of it. It is theirs in 
 the most loathsome dungeon in which he can confine them. 
 Through the flames of the stake, or the prolonged agonies 
 of the cross, on its ampler enjoyment they enter. Through- 
 out the whole of the sermon which thus begins, the truth 
 that righteousness is blessedness of the inward sort runs 
 like a thread of gold. Those who are forgiving, it teaches, 
 are blessed in the sense of the Divine forgiveness. On the 
 life which is that of unostentatious self-restraint, devout- 
 ness, charity, the Divine approval rests. Those who live 
 such lives in secret, their Father, which seeth in secret, re- 
 wards openly, blessing them not merely with his peace, 
 which passeth all understanding, but giving them also a 
 hold on the affections, and an influence over the characters 
 of others, which become fully apparent, perhaps, only when 
 they have passed into the silent land, and can hear no more 
 the voices that praise or blame. All, again, Christ teaches 
 in his Divine discourse, who come to him unharassed by the 
 carking cares of earth, are blessed in the consciousness that 
 their Father in heaven, who feeds the ravens and clothes 
 the lilies with beauty, cares for them and provides for all 
 their wants. Those, once more. He teaches elsewhere, who 
 rise superior to the ambition which sets great store by the 
 petty distinctions of earth, make themselves greatest of all 
 by being servants of all, and realize that they are in his fel- 
 lowship who came not to be ministered unto, but to minister. 
 This doctrine, that righteousness is blessedness, which 
 the prophets taught in anticipation, and Paul in reenforce- 
 ment, of the teaching of Christ, is that by faith in which 
 the just in all ages have lived. No misunderstandings of 
 the teaching of Paul, into which the Catholic Church, and 
 still more remarkably the Protestant Churches have fallen, 
 have prevented devout souls from apprehending that truth. 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 203 
 
 and feeding upon it in theii' hearts. They may not have 
 avowedly rejected the doctrines by which Paul's teaching 
 has been so strangely perverted ; but those doctrines have 
 not entered into their souls so as to poison their spiritual 
 life. It is upon souls whose piety is of the formal and con- 
 ventional type that the Solifidian doctrine, by which Paul 
 is misrepresented, has had its most mischievous effect. Into 
 the latter it has entered as the leaven of Antinomianism, 
 which has been the bane of the Puritan sects. To the 
 former it has proved almost innocuous. The belief to which 
 their hearts cling, whatever may be the doctrine which 
 their tongues confess, is that Christ died, not to save them 
 from dying, but to enable them to die with him to every- 
 thing that is evil. To this belief the gifted among them in 
 all ages have given utterance in their spiritual songs and 
 their books of devotion. Jesus in these utterances of saints. 
 Catholic and Protestant, is not their substitute, doing a 
 work for them, and outside of them ; He is the source of 
 that life within which is righteousness and peace and joy 
 in the Holy Ghost. In the well-known Hymn of St. Ber- 
 nard, He is addressed as the fount of life, the light of men, 
 the imparter of that bliss which is beyond compare, who 
 makes all our moments calm and bright by delivering us 
 from sin's Tinrest and darkness. Of that great monument 
 of mediaeval piety, the " Imitation of Christ," we may say 
 that the foundation and chief corner-stone is that saying of 
 Paul's — Die with Christ, that you may live indeed. Wil- 
 liam Law, in a book whose singular charm of style makes it 
 attractive even to those who have but little sympathy with 
 its fervid piety, enforces the same truth. The teaching of 
 his "Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life" may be 
 summed up in the sentence : Salvation is the abandonment 
 of the worldly, self-indulgent, careless life which we are all 
 so apt to live, and the entrance on a life which is animated 
 by a sincere intention to attain to a Christ-like purity and 
 
204 THE THINGS WHICH fsEEMON xii, 
 
 devotedness, and the earnest effort to make that intention 
 good. 
 
 All, I believe, whose lives have been characterized by- 
 moral earnestness, are prepared to endorse these utterances 
 of the gifted. There have been in their lives, they admit, 
 no hours more blessed than those in which they have fought 
 and conquered some bosom sin — than those even in which, 
 in the familiar language of the Catechism, they have turned 
 from sins which had overmastered them " with grief and 
 hatred of them, and full purpose of, and endeavor after, 
 new obedience." Through that death to sin which repent- 
 ance is, they have entered upon a new life ; and all life 
 which is fresh and vivid is full of joy. Again, when their 
 existence has been stirred by no special conflict, when it has 
 been that simply of patient continuance in well-doing, they 
 have been possessors, they feel, of a peace all unknown to 
 them while they lived a careless life, unsteadied by prin- 
 ciple. They have taken then Christ's yoke, and borne his 
 burden of pious conformity to the Divine will ; and they 
 have his rest to their souls. 
 
 That righteousness is blessedness is, it thus appears, a 
 truth verifiable by what may be called a universal human 
 experience. It is thus plainly one of the things that can 
 not be shaken. It does not, like those propositions of scho- 
 lastic theology with which I have contrasted it, involve a 
 belief in any opinions as to the age of the world, as to the 
 antiquity of man, as to the origin of sin, which science 
 may demonstrate to be false. Our acceptance of it does 
 not depend upon our submission to the authority of any 
 teacher or of any book. It is unaffected, therefore, by the 
 discoveries of the Biblical critic as to the date or the au- 
 thorship of the books which make up the Bible, or as to 
 the manner in which they have been put in their present 
 shape. It is unaffected also by his refusal to concede to 
 the Bible any other authority than that which he recognizes 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 205 
 
 in the truth of its utterances, and their power to awaken 
 a response in the reason and conscience of man. Amid 
 the ruin of theological systems which the waves of inquiry, 
 scientific and Biblical, ingulf or dash to fragments, it rides 
 secure like a sturdy bark which has its anchor surely fixed. 
 Those who cling to it can not finally make shipwreck of 
 the faith, long tempest-tossed though they may be. 
 
 From this simple verity, that righteousness is blessed- 
 ness, others may be deduced which, too, are among the 
 things that can not be shaken. Foremost among these I 
 place the truth that there is a Divine Being, and that this 
 Being is seeking to make us sharers in his righteousness 
 and in his blessedness. Many of the conceptions of the 
 school divines in regard to the nature of God, like many 
 of their conceptions in regard to his work in the salva- 
 tion of the elect, have ceased to commend themselves to 
 thoughtful and devout minds in these days. There are 
 many among us who are unable any longer to think of the 
 infinite Spirit as a mechanician divinity who overcomes 
 difiiculty by ingenious contrivance. They may see much 
 of poetic beauty in the saying of Kepler, that, in making 
 his astronomical discoveries, he was " thinking the thoughts 
 of God after him." They may even admit that the argu- 
 ment from design, on which the divines of the eighteenth 
 century laid so great stress, has its value. They may 
 accept it, as helpful to them, in so far as it enables, as 
 no other argument does, their finite intelligence to realize 
 the presence in the universe of an infinite intelligence. 
 They can not accept it, however, as a scientific definition 
 of the nature of Divine Being and the mode of Divine 
 operation in the world. Space and time, they hold, are 
 but forms of human thought. Of the Infinite and the Eter- 
 nal, the substance of all things — the all-pervasive life of 
 the universe, you can predicate, they assert, neither after 
 nor before, but an eternal now — neither presence in this 
 
206 ^^^ TIIINOS WHICH [sermon xit, 
 
 portion of space nor in that, but omnipresence. The con- 
 ception of this Infinite Being, therefore, as a kind of mod- 
 ern Vulcan fertile in resource, presented to us in the argu- 
 ment from design, is of no scientific validity. It may have 
 its use as an expedient of thought. But when men deduce 
 from it, and formulate as a scientific proposition, the state- 
 ment that God made the world as the mechanist makes the 
 machine, "they dwarf their conceptions of the Divine In- 
 finitude." But not only do many of the thoughtful and 
 the devout among us refuse to look upon the Divine Being 
 as the kind of opifex deus, or Workman-God, given us in 
 the argument from design, they reject, in like manner, the 
 old conceptions in regard to creation. They can not think 
 of that which men call the material universe as a positive 
 something produced by the fiat of Omnipotence out of 
 absolute nothingness. Such a conception, they hold, is 
 incapable of realization in thought. The supposition " that 
 matter and spirit are equally substantial and ultimately 
 different " seems to them an untenable hypothesis. They 
 are driven, therefore, to the conclusion that the material 
 universe is the phenomenal manifestation of the only true 
 substance — of " Him in whom all things consist," to quote 
 the language of the Epistle to the Colossians. Forasmuch 
 as they can only understand the material universe, in so far 
 as they do understand it, in virtue of the intelligence with 
 which they are endowed, they regard it as the expression 
 of an Everlasting Intelligence — the embodiment of the 
 Eternal Reason, ever shifting in its form, but eternal as 
 itself. They look upon it, in fact, as God's ceaseless con- 
 versation with his creatures, as Bishop Berkeley grandly 
 said. Is this not Pantheism ? they are asked. Be it so, 
 they reply. To some such pantheistic conception of the 
 universe, intellects at once speculative and devout will be 
 driven, they believe, as the only refuge which will afford 
 them secure shelter from the assaults of materialistie athe- 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 207 
 
 istn. This Pantheism, they further urge, which seems to 
 afford the best sohition of " the Mystery of Matter," is by 
 no means, as its opponents allege, destructive of moral dis- 
 tinctions. The One Being " of whom, and to whom, and 
 through whom, are all things " is, it must be remembered, 
 in the view of the Christian pantheist, the ground of our 
 moral as well as of our intellectual and physical life. 
 Christian Pantheism does not, therefore, like some of the 
 cruder forms of pantheistic speculation, attribute a moral 
 indifference to the Being who is " all in all." It holds, on 
 the contrary, that this Being presents himself to man as 
 the moral ideal — that He is in man as that mysterious 
 energy which convinces him of sin, and urges him on to 
 higher moral attainments. It does not attempt to solve 
 the problem of the origin of evil ; but in presenting to us 
 the hope that "on the scale of infinity all is well," it gives 
 men the hint of a solution of it which has more of help 
 and comfort than they find in the dogmatic replies which 
 the adherents of traditionalism make to the objections 
 which the pessimist brings forward against the doctrine of 
 the Divine Benevolence. 
 
 The proposition that God is thus the Eternal Goodness — 
 the Being who is seeking to make his creatures sharers in 
 his blessedness, by making them sharers in his righteousness 
 — may not be, like the simpler proposition — Righteousness 
 is blessedness — the expression of a truth verifiable in human 
 experience. The former proposition, however, is deducible 
 from the latter by processes of reasoning which I believe 
 are legitimate. The law of righteousness to which men are 
 constrained to conform their lives, by conforming their lives 
 to which they find blessedness, implies a lawgiver who loves 
 righteousness. Men have not created the ideal of the just 
 and the merciful, which a mysterious energy within impels 
 them to realize. They have not found that ideal for them- 
 selves any more than they have formed it for themselves. 
 
208 ^^^ THINGS WHICH [sermon xn. 
 
 It has found them and implanted itself within them, grow- 
 ing with their growth, and strengthening with their strength. 
 The Perfect Love has found them, and it works with them 
 and in them, that it may transform them into its likeness. 
 Apart from the belief that a Being higher than man pre- 
 sents himself to him as moral ideal, and works in him as 
 moral impulse, the moral life of the race, its moral growth, 
 and that of the individuals who compose it, are inexplicable. 
 We may, therefore, hold that the statement that the Eter- 
 nal Goodness is seeking to make the finite creatures which 
 it has brought into being righteous, and blessed because 
 righteous, is a legitimate deduction from the proposition, 
 verifiable, we have seen, in human experience, that right- 
 eousness is blessedness. This statement is simply an asser- 
 tion, in other words, of the doctrine known as that of the 
 Fatherhood of God. The doctrine, consequently, of the 
 Divine Fatherhood is one of those things which can not be 
 shaken. "Whatever opinions and systems of opinion may 
 perish, the truth which Jesus, by his personality even more 
 than by his teaching, first brought fully to light, that the 
 Infinite Being, the source and substance of all things, is 
 best known to men bv the name of Father, must abide for 
 ever sure. 
 
 As belief in that God who was specially revealed in the 
 grace of our Lord Jesus Christ may thus be deduced from 
 belief in duty, so, I go on to remark, may belief in immor- 
 tality be deduced from belief in God. Thus the proposi- 
 tion, that man is the heir of a personal immortality, may 
 also be regarded as one of the things that can not be 
 shaken. 
 
 Many of the conceptions entertained by the theologians 
 of the past in regard to the nature of human immortality 
 may seem, to theologians of the present, untenable. They 
 may find it, in the light of modern science, impossible to 
 believe in the resuscitation of the material framework of 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 209 
 
 the body. The belief in a material heaven, into which the 
 resuscitated bodies of the righteous shall pass, has perished 
 with the belief in the ci-ystalline spheres. So, likewise, has 
 the belief in a subterranean limbo, in which the bodies of 
 the wicked shall be grievously tormented. Discussions as 
 to the nature of the general resurrection and the final judg- 
 ment, as to an intermediate state, and the condition of dis- 
 embodied spirits during the period which intervenes between 
 death and the end of the world, are grown somewhat out of 
 date. The whole of the eschatology of the schoolmen, in 
 fact, like their soteriology and their ontology, seems to the 
 modern theologian to be in its details untenable. 
 
 The modern theologian cleaves, however, to the old be- 
 lief of Christendom in the personal immortality of each 
 human spirit. There is, he maintains, nothing inconceiv- 
 able in the continued personal life of the human spirit. The 
 soul he defines as the true self in each of us, as that in which 
 " our sense of personal identity inheres amid various im- 
 pressions and continued disintegration of organic matter. 
 It can not therefore be, as the materialist asserts, a sub- 
 stratum of brain-tissue. It seems to be, on the contrary, a 
 portion of the true spiritual substance of the universe, so 
 conditioned, by those forces which present themselves to the 
 physiologist in the phenomena of brain, as that it is largely 
 dependent upon them for the form it takes as a personal 
 life with an individual character." The soul being thus a 
 true spiritual substance, which survives the gradual conver- 
 sion of the portion of living protoplasm, through which it 
 first came to have the sense of personal identity, into dead 
 protoplasm, which is slawly going on through life, may out- 
 live also the more sudden change which passes upon it at 
 death. Thus a continued personal life of the soul is at 
 least conceivable. Among the infinite possibilities of being, 
 there may well be the bodies celestial of which Paul speaks. 
 With such new organisms wherewith to express themselves 
 
210 THE THINGS WHICH [sermon xii. 
 
 to other intelligences, wherewith also to define themselves 
 to themselves, and thus to retain self -consciousness, "we, 
 the living agents that we call ourselves," may be clothed 
 upon at death, the modern theologian is prepared to be- 
 lieve. 
 
 The survival of the soul after the death of the body, its 
 retention of its consciousness of continuous identity in a 
 new or in several new states of existence, being thus by no 
 means incredible in the light of modern science, all the old 
 arguments for immortality are still available to those who 
 are influenced by the scientific spirit. 
 
 These arguments may be briefly described a,s—^rst, that 
 derived from the prevalence of the belief in all lands and 
 ages, and among men at every stage of civilization and cul- 
 ture ; second, that derived from the affections — that which 
 results from the conviction that the attachments we have 
 formed on earth must be renewed in some other forai in the 
 better world beyond for which we hope ; third, that de- 
 rived from our sense of justice, which demands that the 
 inequalities of the present life shall be redressed in a better 
 life to come ; fourth, that derived from the incomplete- 
 ness of the present life, viewed as a state of education ; 
 fifth, that which is derived from the mind of man itself, 
 with its intuitions of the Infinite, and its craving for a 
 knowledge of God, which shall ever grow fuller and clearer. 
 
 The two latter of these arguments seem, to the theolo- 
 gian who is influenced by the modern spirit, the best and 
 the strongest. They appear to him necessai-ily involved in 
 those theistic conceptions of the universe which, in their 
 turn, are legitimate deductions from the belief in and the 
 recognition of the truth that righteousness is blessedness. 
 If man be, as he is constrained to believe that he is, the 
 subject of a Divine education here, the work of his spiritual 
 education must surely be carried on in other states of exist- 
 ence hereafter. 
 
m'farlan.] can not be SHAKEN. 211 
 
 Those in whom culture, in the highest sense of the term, 
 seems to have produced its highest results, realize but im- 
 perfectly, it is plain, the Divine ideal of humanity. Dare 
 any one dogmatically assert that the progress such persons 
 feel possible for themselves in knowledge and wisdom and 
 goodness is for ever arrested by death ? It is possible in 
 thought, we have seen, to conceive that the souls of the 
 good, their true selves, with all their capabilities for intel- 
 lectual and moral growth, may survive the dissolution of 
 the body. Must not that possibility of thought become an 
 actuality if only thus man's ideal of man can be realized ? 
 But if the incompleteness of their moral development con- 
 strains the theologians, for whom I speak at pi'esent, to 
 cherish even for those whose moral growth has been the 
 happiest the hope of a continued existence, what shall they 
 say, they ask, of those who are their opposites ? What 
 shall they say of the vast multitude who die in the imma- 
 turity of their powers — of the many whose lives are so cir- 
 aimstanced as that their latent capacities never get a chance 
 of development — of those in whose characters, to the end 
 of life, good and evil are strangely mixed — of those who 
 seem to have made deliberate choice of evil ? They find 
 that " of fifty seeds " nature "often brings but one to bear." 
 But shall they aflirm of the Father of spirits that He deals 
 thus with the human children whom He has fashioned into 
 separate souls and endowed with the capacity of growth in 
 knowledge and wisdom and goodness? They may have 
 tlieir cynical moods, in which they are tempted to regard 
 the mass of mankind as mere moral rubbish, fitted only for 
 destruction from the presence of the Lord. They may be 
 tempted to think with Spinoza that immortality is a boon 
 conferred only on those whose souls have been conversant 
 with ideas that are immortal ; or they may be induced to 
 assert, with some modern theologians, that immortality is a 
 gift purchased by Christ for those who are called to faith 
 
212 THE THINGS WHICH [sebmon xu. 
 
 in him. Such conceptions, however, can not be permanently 
 cherished by any who have embraced the higher forms of 
 theistic belief. 
 
 These thinkers observe, even in those members of the 
 race whose moral growth has been most stunted, the germs 
 at all events of that which they regard as a Divine life. 
 They can not believe that the souls, in which such germs 
 exist, are destined to extinction like wasted seeds. Believ- 
 ing in God as wise and good, they cherish the hope, at least, 
 that under more favorable conditions (among these favor- 
 able conditions may be included, of course, the sharp dis- 
 cipline of pain) the capabilities of moral and spiritual ex- 
 cellence, which remain almost wholly undeveloped in the 
 present life of some human beings, will be developed in the 
 life that is to come. 
 
 In the fact, then, that man is the subject of a Divine 
 education which is unperfected here, there is a very strong 
 argument, they hold, for the continuance of his life here- 
 after. 
 
 That argument becomes even more conclusive, they 
 think, when it is presented in the slightly altered form 
 noted above, as that which is derived from the mind of man 
 itself. 
 
 The mind of man in its normal state is animated by a 
 ceaseless craving for the knowledge of divine and eternal 
 truth. It is for ever making inquiries as to the origin of 
 all things, and the nature of the power which shapes its 
 destiny. It is for ever engaged in attempts to solve the 
 problem of existence. Now, in man's desire for such knowl- 
 edge as this, there is the best proof of his immortality. 
 Here he may know in part ; and the knowledge of God 
 which, even in the present state of existence, the devout 
 soul possesses, is, in the language of the New Testament, 
 eternal life — i. e., constitutes it a life full of the conscious- 
 ness of its own endurance. But the knowledge of God is 
 
u'faelan.] can not be SHAKEN. 213 
 
 capable of endless increase ; and the creature who puts to 
 himself the question, What is God ? is surely destined to 
 have it more and more completely answered as the ages of 
 an endless life roll on. " In God we live, and move, and 
 have our being. " These words are as true in one sense of 
 the worm, as of the genius, or of the saint. In another 
 sense, however, they have a fuller meaning for the devout 
 and thoughtful soul than for any others of the creatures of 
 earth. That soul (and all souls in a measure) is conscious 
 of a moral and spiritual as well as of a sentient life. Its 
 higher life, it knows, is derived from God and sustained by 
 him. It longs after a communion with the source of its 
 being, which shall grow fuller and fuller. Is there not, 
 in that longing, the pledge of its immortality ? 
 
 The three propositions, therefore— ;^rs^, that righteous- 
 ness is blessedness ; second, that there is a Divine Being 
 who is seeking to make men sharers in his blessedness, by 
 making them sharers in his righteousness ; third, that in the 
 cravings of the human soul for communion with that power 
 without it, which is the source of its being and the ground 
 of its moral life, there is the pledge of its immortality — are, 
 the modern theologian, whose position I have endeavored 
 to define, holds, things which can not be shaken. The two 
 latter of these propositions he knows are questioned. They 
 can not, however, he maintains, be legitimately denied ex- 
 cept by those who are willing to abandon themselves to an 
 absolute skepticism. It is of course open to the stringent 
 skeptic to deny that there is a voice speaking in his con- 
 science, bidding him do right, which is not his own voice, 
 speaking to himself. But the skepticism which would con- 
 strain the atheist to refuse to the theist his assumption — a 
 command outside of his moral nature — would compel him 
 also to deny to the physical philosopher his assumption — a 
 physical world apart from his thought of it. He would 
 thus be driven into that dreariest skepticism, which para- 
 
214 THINGS WHICH CAN NOT BE SHAKEN, [sermon xii. 
 
 lyzes our intellectual as well as our moral powers, which 
 leads us to doubt whether we have any real existence or no, 
 whether we think, or only think that we think — which con- 
 sequently turns our whole life into a dream within a dream. 
 Thus, then, the modern theologian holds that the concep- 
 tions which may be expressed in the three words. Duty, 
 God, Immortality, are truths which no discoveries of sci- 
 ence, no investigations of the Biblical critic, no wind of 
 modern doctrine, can really endanger. 
 
 Those, whose views I have undertaken to expound, 
 welcome accordingly the attacks which are made by the 
 students of science, natural and Biblical, upon the dogmatic 
 theology of the past. They believe that, painful though 
 these attacks may be to many devout Christians, they must 
 ultimately be beneficial to the religion of Christ. They 
 will result, they perceive, in the demolition of those doc- 
 trines, artificial and unverifiablo, which have wellnigh con- 
 cealed Christ's simple gospel, that man has a Father in 
 heaven, who is seeking to make him " perfect as he is per- 
 fect." They are confident that, when the dust-clouds, raised 
 by the pulling down of those unsightly structures of scho- 
 lastic dogma, which have been piled l^p around the doctrine 
 of Christ, clear away, that doctrine itself will reappear again 
 before the eyes of men in all its stately simplicity. 
 
MENziES.] SUCCESSOBS OF TEE GREAT niYSICIAN. 215 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE SUCCESSOES OF THE GEEAT 
 PHYSICIAN. 
 
 BY THE REV. ALLAN MENZIES, B. D., ABERNTTE, PERTHSHIRE. 
 
 " As ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
 Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils." — 
 Matt, x, 7, 8. 
 
 In several passages of the later prophets of the Old 
 Testament, we find it predicted that, in the great restora- 
 tion to which these seers looked forward, there would be an 
 end of various kinds of physical evil. "In that day," we 
 read, " shall the deaf hear the words of the book, and tlie 
 eyes of the blind shall see out of obscurity." "Then the 
 eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf 
 shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an 
 hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing." In such vivid lan- 
 guage did they describe the happiness of that epoch which 
 was the subject of their faithful longings, when God should 
 renew the heart of his people, or when the exiles should 
 return to Jerusalem, and the kingdom of God be established 
 there. It was not enough to say that Israel would at last 
 be true to its high calling, that the divisions of the people 
 would be healed, and all nations flock to the worship of the 
 true God. In that happy time every possible good would 
 descend into the world ; every deliverance which the poor 
 and needy could desire would be accomplished ; all tears 
 would be wiped away. Even physical evil would disap- 
 
216 THE SUCCESSORS OF [sermon xm. 
 
 pear, even the light of nature would partake in the univer- 
 sal blessedness. 
 
 Are these expressions of the prophets to be understood 
 literally ? Was it really their expectation that the time 
 would come when not only those evils which spring from 
 man's sinfulness — injustice and unbelief and warfare — but 
 those evils, also, which lie beyond man's control — pain and 
 disease and physical infirmity — would cease to afflict him ? 
 It may be doubted whether they actually expected this to 
 come to pass : these expressions were probably intended 
 simply as powerful figures or metaphors for the great deliv- 
 erance which they saw in the future. 
 
 But, when we come to New Testament times, we find 
 new life given to this class of sayings, in a way which we 
 could scarcely have expected. Our Lord repeats them, and 
 seems to find in them a true description of the events which 
 accompanied his preaching. When John the Baptist sends 
 from the prison to ask Jesus for some declaration as to his 
 Messiahship, Jesus replies that those things are actually 
 taking place which the Jews believed on the strength of 
 prophecy that the Messiah would do. The blind receive 
 their sight, and the lame walk, the dead are raised up, and 
 the lepers are cleansed, just as the prophets predicted ; 
 thus it is proved that this is the time of which the prophets 
 spoke. From these things John may draw his own con- 
 clusion. 
 
 Is Jesus to be understood literally, when He uses the 
 expressions of the prophets in this way? Is He speaking 
 of real outward cures, and founding upon them an argu- 
 ment for his own Messiahship ? That also has been doubt- 
 ed, and in support of such a doubt attention has been called 
 to the fact that He on one occasion speaks of " the dead " 
 in a metaphorical way, as those who do not care about the 
 kingdom of God. With regard to the rest of these phrases, 
 it is remarked that He refused to work a miracle when He 
 
MENZiES.] THE GEE AT PHYSICIAN. 217 
 
 was asked to do so, to prove that He was the Messiah ; that 
 He spoke disparagingly of miracles, and generally tried, 
 when He had cured any one, to keep the matter quiet. It 
 is thus quite possible to assign to these phrases, as used by 
 Jesus, the same figurative significance in which they had 
 been used at first. Jesus may have meant nothing more 
 than to state in a vivid way the impression which his 
 preaching was producing on the mind of the country. If 
 new ideas were set afloat which made a new world rise 
 upon the mental vision of those who received them — if the 
 indifferent or the despairing awoke to the glad tidings — if 
 natures sunk in the death of sin arose to a new life — if those 
 whose conduct had been stumbling and irregular were set 
 upon their feet to do right steadily and consistently — then 
 the metaphors of the prophets were not too strong to de- 
 scribe so happy a revival. 
 
 For a religious use of the Gospels no more profitable 
 view of these phrases need be desired. As poetry, they are 
 full of instruction and of spiritual suggestion, and speak to 
 the heart of every age. Even in quarters where there is 
 no sympathy for any attempt to explain away the miracles 
 of Jesus, there is often a strong tendency to use them as 
 symbols and parables of the spiritual infirmities of human- 
 ity, and of the cure of such infirmities by the gospel. In 
 the preaching which dwells most upon the Saviour and the 
 sinner's need of him, the leper symbolizes the sin-polluted 
 soul, which no waters of earth's culture can cleanse ; the 
 blind man at the gate of Jericho is a figure of those whose 
 eyes have never opened to the gospel ; the dead whom 
 Christ raised up stands for the worldling, in whom the true 
 life has never been suffered to aAvake ; the demoniac is 
 the man whose passions no restraint can overcome. Most 
 beautiful, most richly fraught with deep and tender wis- 
 dom, is this symbolical view of the healings of Christ, 
 which finds in the words and actions accompanying these 
 10 
 
218 THE SUCCESSORS OF [seemon xiii, 
 
 cures indications of the character and of the modes of 
 operation of the great Physician of the soul. 
 
 But Christ cured the bodily ailments of his countrymen 
 as well as the sicknesses of their spirits, and it is to this 
 fact, with the lessons to be gathered from it, that we now 
 wish to direct attention. It is a very imperfect view of 
 him which regards him merely as a teacher, or merely as a 
 spiritual deliverer. As a pure matter of history, it is im- 
 possible to understand his life or his character if we remove 
 from the gospel narrative the cures which He is recorded to 
 have wrought. When his first disciples looked back, after 
 his death, on what He was, and sought to give a compen- 
 dious account of his activity, they spoke not only of his 
 preaching, but also of the power which He exercised ; they 
 said that He went about doing good, and healing all that 
 were oppressed of the devil (Acts x, 38). They recorded 
 that, when He sent them out on their first missionary tour. 
 He commissioned them not only to preach the gospel, but 
 also to do works of healing, as He did himself. And we 
 know, from various sources, that the gift of healing was 
 believed to survive in the early Church for a considerable 
 period after the death of Jesus. 
 
 What are we to think of this feature of the life of 
 Jesus ? If we do not spii'itualize this part of the history, 
 what lessons are we to deduce from it ? The great interest 
 of this part of the gospel story has often been thought to 
 consist in its value as evidence to the truth of Christianity. 
 The miracles have been considered as one of the chief sup- 
 ports of the divine nature of the Christian revelation. We 
 need not now discuss how much force there is in such evi- 
 dence to establish such conclusions : that is a point on 
 which very different opinions have been and still are held. 
 But there is another conclusion to be drawn from this ele- 
 ment of the narrative, the legitimacy of which is open to 
 less question. Whatever the miracles may prove about the 
 
MENziEs.J THE GEEAT PHYSICIAN. 219 
 
 authority of tbose who put forth such a power, they cer- 
 tainly prove something as to the conception of the kingdom 
 of God which was held by Christ and his disciples. If it 
 was a characteristic sign of the Messianic era that works 
 like these should accompany its progress, and that men 
 should be relieved in it from physical distresses and infirmi- 
 ties, then clearly the kingdom of God, which was believed 
 to be impending, had deliverance in store for the bodies of 
 men as well as for their souls, and disease and pain were to 
 come to an end, as well as unbelief and discord and social 
 injustice. And when we consider the character of Christ, 
 and ask with what eySs He must have looked on the sick- 
 nesses and misfortunes of his countrymen, we are strength- 
 ened in the conclusion that lie must have sought to set 
 them free from more than one kind of infirmity, and that 
 his hope for the future included the triumph of good over 
 evil, not in one particular only, but in all. When He saw 
 the multitudes and had compassion on them, He sought to 
 set them right not only by preaching, but by his works as 
 well. When He felt the Spirit of God resting upon him. 
 He was impelled not only to preach the gospel to the poor, 
 but also to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance 
 to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, 
 and to set at liberty them that were bound. He knew 
 that He was sent to overthrow the enemy of mankind in 
 every province in which that potentate had exercised 
 his tyranny. He was not deaf to any cry that was ad- 
 dressed to him for help. He knew human life too well 
 to look upon the problem of man's deliverance in any 
 partial or one-sided way. If the miracles wore the pre- 
 monitory signs of the period when God's Spirit should 
 take full possession of society, they showed that in that 
 happy state, which Jesus believed to be at hand, mankind 
 should be set at liberty from every evil power, that every 
 burden would be removed and all tears wiped away, 
 
220 ^-^-^ SUCCESSORS OF [seesion xiii. 
 
 and the blessedness of the beginning restored to the world 
 once more. 
 
 So broad and generous is the conception of the benefits 
 it was to confer, which lies at the root of Christianity. 
 Urged by a faith in a loving Father of men, with whose 
 will all pain and sickness must be inconsistent, Christianity 
 began a bold attack upon the hostile powers which had 
 carried on such an oppressive reign. Looking for a king- 
 dom in which the loving will of God should be realized, 
 it refused to believe that any kind of distress could be per- 
 petual, and looked boldly for the time when the ancient 
 rule of evil should be dissolved, and the creature delivered 
 from the bondage of corruption into a glorious liberty. 
 As it existed in the mind of Christ — and to what other 
 quarter can we turn to recognize the true genius of our 
 faith ? — Christianity was miuch more than a doctrine, much 
 more than a scheme for propagating truth ; that was only 
 half its mission : it was an impulse to deliverance, a power 
 to deliver, which must work its way in every part of hu- 
 man life, till the deliverance became absolute and imiversal. 
 It aimed at the reduction of every tyranny, at the liberation 
 of all who were any way oppressed, and it could not cease 
 to operate until God's loving will was done on earth as it 
 was done in heaven, and God's kingdom had come in a 
 saved and regenerated world. And therefore Christ not 
 only preached the gospel, but He also cured the sick, and 
 gave sight to the blind, and cast out devils. 
 
 In the preaching of the gospel, Christ has not wanted 
 successors. To carry on this, the first and noblest portion 
 of his work, great institutions have arisen and have flour- 
 ished ; thousands of churches have been reared in every 
 land ; thousands upon thousands of devout and able men 
 in every age have devoted their lives. And claiming to 
 stand in his place, and to speak in his name, the churches 
 have been accepted by the world as his representatives. 
 
MENziEs.J THE GEE AT PHYSICIAN. 221 
 
 But it may be worth while to ask, Who are the successors 
 of the Lord in the other and not less essential part of his 
 activity ? Where are they to be found, what are they 
 called, what recognition do they receive from those who 
 represent Christ in the preaching of the gospel ? 
 
 They also are legion, but as their tasks are many and 
 various, and not specially connected with the outward part 
 of religion, they are not combined into an organism, and 
 put forward no united claim ; many of them are but loosely 
 connected with the associations which claim to represent 
 Christianity ; many of them make no religious profession 
 at all, and look with suspicion on the churches. Yet 
 whether we regard the impulse by which their labors are 
 inspired, or the object to which they tend, they are one 
 among themselves, and one with the Church of Christ. 
 
 Every age has its own conception of that kingdom of 
 God in the hope of which Christians live and labor. In 
 our age the growing organization of society, the rise of 
 new sciences, the division of knowledge into a multiplicity 
 of provinces, have brought with them very large concep- 
 tions of the benefits of which men stand in need, and of the 
 end toward which the world advances. To raise men out 
 of the various evils which aflflict them, and to procure for 
 them a healthy, and free, and rational existence : this, we 
 are coming more and more to see, is a very wide and com- 
 plex problem, and requires the cooperation of many labor- 
 ers in many fields. It would lead far beyond the limits of 
 a sermon, were we to specify the various lines on which 
 contributions are being made by men of public spirit, and 
 by the stately sisterhood of the sciences, toward the eman- 
 cipation of mankind from the various influences which 
 hinder its growth. But where any labor is unselfishly 
 engaged in, which tends even remotely to further this 
 emancipation, there we need not hesitate to say that part of 
 the task is being done which the love and the enthusiasm 
 
222 THE SUCCESSORS OF [sermon xiii. 
 
 of Christ imposed upon his followers, and this irrespective 
 of the consideration whether the name of Christ is named 
 or not. Christianity is broader than the creeds, wider than 
 the churches. The impulse which prompts any man to 
 deny himself in order to do good to others, and to win for 
 them what they can not achieve for themselves, is essen- 
 tially a Christian impulse, and connects the man who lives 
 in its power in a real and historical bond with him who 
 claimed for his kindred all those who did the will of his 
 Father. 
 
 It is a commonplace of religious teaching that a man is 
 serving Christianity not only when he is engaged in di- 
 rectly religious affairs, but also when he is rendering prac- 
 tical service to his neighbors, perhaps without thinking of 
 religion at all. Indeed, the requirement of good works 
 stands in the very front of the Gospel : faith only makes a 
 man half a Christian, and good works are needed to make 
 up his full title to that name. Every Christian, even the 
 humblest and weakest, is called not only to believe in 
 Christ, but also to do what he can for his neighbors. These 
 are very obvious truths, and they will scarcely be contro- 
 verted when we apply them on a larger scale, to the life, 
 not of the individual, but of the society. Something more 
 than faith is needed to make up a Christian society or 
 State. Taken by herself, the Church does not represent 
 the Christianity of a country. A State is Christian not 
 only in virtue of her Church or Churches ; these denote 
 only one element of her religious life, and, though they 
 were to gain all the ascendancy they crave, the religious 
 life of the State might still be extremely defective. An- 
 other and not less essential element of national religion is 
 contributed by those who are laboring in any way for the 
 improvement of society. Those who execute the behests of 
 the Christian spirit by seeking to do for society what mir- 
 acles sought in isolated cases to do for the individual — to 
 
MENziEs.l THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. 223 
 
 heal its sick, to cleanse its lepers, to cast out its devils — 
 are as real servants of Christianity as those who preach its 
 doctrines. The labors of the former are to the full as in- 
 dispensable as those of the latter to the realizing of a king- 
 dom of righteousness and peace and joy upon this earth. 
 
 If, then, we count the preacher peculiarly the servant of 
 Christ, who seeks to open men's minds to the thought of the 
 relations which they bear to God and man, and to the lofti- 
 est view of the meaning and purpose of their lives, and 
 if God's blessing be thought to rest on the Sunday-school 
 teacher, and on the district visitor who seeks to serve our 
 Master by little acts of kindness to his poor, must we not 
 hold worthy of the same honor those who are laboring in 
 other and not less arduous ways to bring to human life the 
 blessings of light and peace and freedom ? Are not the 
 doctor and the physiologist and the sanitary reformer en- 
 gaged in works which Christ directly enjoins ? Are not 
 the political economist, the legislator, the administrator, 
 aiming at the removal of those evils from the root, with 
 which the physician deals when they arise ? Are not the 
 teacher and the student of educational science laboring for 
 such an elevation of the people that they will save them- 
 selves from many of the evils under which at present they 
 are so helpless ? And who can tell in how many ways the 
 progress of science will prove to be the emancipation of man- 
 kind ? It would be possible to take a much wider sweep, 
 and to maintain the essential alliance of all those whose 
 efforts spring from a higher source than their own private 
 ends — scholai', philosopher, man of science, poet or artist — 
 in the great work of satisfying the growing needs and ad- 
 vancing the welfare of mankind. For our present purpose 
 we may rest content with saying that all those who are 
 engaged in labors by which they seek to serve their fellow- 
 creatures ; who are saving the distressed, or instructing the 
 ignorant, or thinking thoughts by which man's life shall be 
 
224 THE SUVCEHSOIiS OF Isermon xiii. 
 
 guided or illuminated, that they are all engaged in the same 
 work which Christianity began, and has for so many cen- 
 turies, with varying success, carried forward. 
 
 And here, it will more and more be found, lies one most 
 obvious reconciliation of science with religion. That all 
 truth is one is a doctrine which, in an age filled with such 
 conflicting tendencies of thought as this, all can not be ex- 
 pected to grasp, except perhaps by faith. That all honest 
 effort, that all striving to do good, is one, this is a doc- 
 trine, the prevalence of which is perhaps nearer at hand. 
 It may be that the time is not far distant when it will be 
 recognized that all who are seeking to render any service 
 to mankind are laboring in the same cause. And, when the 
 Church can bring herself to acknowledge this great fact, 
 she will have done much to disarm the hostility with which 
 she is frequently regarded, and to regain her rightful posi- 
 tion as the conscience and the great inspiring force of the 
 country. The battle of beliefs may not be destined soon 
 to issue in a general consent, but a speedier victory than 
 any she can gain by argument and insisting on her evidences 
 awaits the Church, when she takes thoroughly to heart her 
 Master's words, "Pie who is not against us is for us," and 
 rises to the thought that the cause of Christ is not to be 
 identified with the interests of religious bodies, but with 
 the interests of mankind. If there are many good works 
 to be done for mankind, which the Church as such has no 
 call to undertake, if the growing complexity of civilization 
 and the increase of learning have made the progress of 
 society a wider problem, and divided it into a multitude of 
 parts, each calling for hard and disinterested labor, the 
 Church, if she is wise, will claim as her fellow-laborers 
 those who are discharging other functions than her own 
 of the great public service. While holding that her own 
 function is the highest and most central of all, she will not 
 think of detracting from the value of what is done in dif- 
 
MENZIE8.] THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. 225 
 
 ferent fields, and with a different method from her own. 
 As the early apologists showed the heathens who derided 
 their faith, so she will show to them that they are Chris- 
 tians though they know it not, and that in proportion to 
 their love of truth and their unselfishness they are serving 
 Christianity. 
 
 We have spoken of the division of the work which is 
 done for society into an increasing number of parts, and 
 of the rise of new provinces of learning, and of new de- 
 partments of the public service. In connection with this 
 tendency toward specialization and elaborate organization, 
 which is characteristic of modern times, we can not forget 
 how frequently the rise of new departments has taken 
 the aspect of a restriction of the activity of the Church, 
 and of a curtailment of her power. The great institution 
 which formerly controlled every province of human life, and 
 claimed a right of dictation in nearly all the world's affairs, 
 is thrust back from one province after another, and made 
 to surrender one after another of her offices to secular hands. 
 It is long since the Church ceased to regard the healing of 
 the sick as a function pertaining to herself ; it is long since 
 the whole of the learning of the world pertained to her, 
 though not so long since she, in part, relaxed her hold upon 
 our universities. The period which has elapsed since she 
 gave up seeking to control the civil government in this 
 country is now to be reckoned by centuries. It is not half 
 a century since the relief of the poor was removed from her 
 management, and placed under an authority created for 
 that purpose ; and the change is quite recent which has 
 withdrawn the schools of the country from her jurisdiction, 
 and intrusted them to School Boards, over the election of 
 which she has no control. Other tendencies are at work 
 which may possibly issue in. similar changes. 
 
 But, in being committed to the hands of the general 
 population of the country, these activities have not ceased 
 
226 SUCCESSORS OF THE GREAT PHYSICIAN, [sermon xiii. 
 
 to be Christian, nor is this tendency one which need occa- 
 sion dismay to a Church conscious of the true foundation 
 of her influence. Marking these changes and meditating on 
 the true relation of the Church to the various bodies which 
 exist at her side, we are led to a very large conception of 
 the place and duty of the Church in a highly organized 
 community. What she loses in direct power she ought to 
 gain in influence. While she recognizes the usefulness of 
 what is done for society by the various secular agencies, 
 she is herself the only meeting-point at which a unity can 
 be established between all those laborers in different fields. 
 Apart from her they are divided, but in her they are one ; 
 and she can infuse into them the spirit which they shall 
 carry into their various operations. While she does not 
 seek to dictate to them as to those matters which society 
 has intrusted to their hands, while she does not seek to 
 force herself into provinces which belong to other bodies, 
 she yet claims to declare the motives and the principles of 
 conduct which in every department ought to be respected 
 and acted on. Leaving the scholar and the legislator and 
 the teacher — shall we not say the theologian also ? — free to 
 form their own convictions, and not seeking to coerce them 
 to her own belief, or her own policy in matters of which 
 they are the best judges, she yet unites them in her wor- 
 ship, and fuses them together in the pure enthusiasm of 
 self-devotion and religion. Recognizing them all as breth- 
 ren, as servants of the one Lord, as fellow-workers in the 
 same great cause, she sends them forth to work in his spirit, 
 and by their different efforts to win the world to him. And 
 thus she not only fulfills his command to preach the gospel, 
 but by the influence which she exerts on all true-hearted 
 and public-spirited men she fulfills his other commands also, 
 to heal the sick, to cleanse the lepers, to cast out devils. 
 
 May the Lord grant to his Church to be of this mind ! 
 Amen. 
 
wENziEs.] THi: CUIilSTlAN PRIESTHOOD. 227 
 
 XIV. 
 THE CIIEISTIAN PKIESTIIOOD. 
 
 BY THE REV. ALLAN MENZIES, B. D., ABEUNTTE. 
 
 " Who hath made us . . . priests unto God and his Father." — 
 Rev. i, 6. 
 
 Words similar to these are reported to have been spoken 
 to the Jews at the outset of their national history. When 
 they were assembled at the foot of Mount Sinai to receive 
 their legislation, we read that Moses addressed them in words 
 which were meant to give them a high conception of the 
 position they were called to occupy in the world. God, he 
 said, had commanded him to say to them that, if they were 
 true to the covenant then being formed, they would be a 
 kingdom of priests and a holy nation. 
 
 These phrases were reechoed at the outset of Christianity 
 by several of the sacred writers, and applied to the commu- 
 nity of believers in Christ. Christians were bidden to be- 
 lieve that what Christ had done for them was to make them 
 kings and priests to God, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. 
 
 It is not difficult to understand what is meant when the 
 adherents of these young religions are exhorted to think that 
 they are kings to God. The words point to the fact, so soon 
 forgotten in each case, that the full consciousness of being 
 under God's authority emancipates the worshiper from all 
 human dictation. He who is fully aware of his responsibil- 
 ity to God escapes in his spirit from the control of every 
 other ruler, whatever his outward lot may be. His ruler 
 
238 THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. [sermon xiv. 
 
 dwells within him ; he is his own king ; he sees no one 
 above him ; the sense of the allegiance which he owes to 
 God enables him to govern his life consistently, without feel- 
 ing the control of outward magistrates and laws. 
 
 What does it mean when we find it said to the Jews at 
 the outset of their history, and repeated to the Christians at 
 the beginning of theirs, that they are to be priests to God ? 
 
 First of all, we can not fail to see that the expression 
 marks a great difference in each case between the new re- 
 ligion and the religions which had gone before. In the older 
 religions, it is suggested, only some of the worshipers were 
 priests ; there was a priestly caste or class, which stood be- 
 tween the people and the object of their worship ; the peo- 
 ple had to transact their religious affairs through the medium 
 of a priesthood. The priesthood and the laity were marked 
 off from each other as two distinct and separate classes. 
 
 But in Judaism, Moses said, and in Christianity, the* 
 apostles John and Peter said (and the apostle Paul asserts 
 the same, not in these words, but in others quite as strong), 
 that is not to be the case. Here there is to be no distinc- 
 tion between persons who are sacred and persons who are 
 secular ; no line is to be drawn between priesthood and 
 laity. What the priests did in these older religions, it is 
 implied, you Jews and you Christians are to do for your- 
 selves. Where the priests stood in these imperfect and ele- 
 mentary faiths, you, if you are true to your calling, are all 
 to stand. You are all priests ; you are not to get your re- 
 ligious affairs done for you by proxy — you are to transact 
 with God by and for yourselves. 
 
 This, it will generally be agreed, is the notion which the 
 words of our text expressed at first, both in the Old Testa- 
 ment and in the New. They marked the passage from a 
 mechanical and superstitious religion to one direct and spir- 
 itual ; from a worship which it required priests to carry on 
 to a worship which is to be carried on in the individual soul. 
 
MENZiEs.] THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTUOOD. 229 
 
 And it is a very obvious remark that neither in Judaism 
 nor in Christianity has the ideal thus set up at the begin- 
 ning been at all generally realized. In Judaism an elabo- 
 rate system of washings, sacrifices, and offerings came to be 
 instituted, for the proper observance of which the services 
 of the priesthood were essential. It was found impossible 
 to carry on the national religion without all this machinery. 
 The people soon fell back from being priests, and the func- 
 tions which every individual ought to have discharged were 
 delegated to a class, who, standing between God and the 
 worshipers, gained a great and not always a salutary power 
 over the conscience and the belief and the whole life of the 
 people. 
 
 In Christianity better things might have been expected, 
 but here also the old notion soon crept in of having a class 
 set apart to transact the religious affairs of the rest. It soon 
 came to be believed, a belief of which we find no trace in 
 the New Testament, that a man could not stand on good 
 terms with God except by the mediation of the priesthood. 
 The priesthood was thought to be in possession of the bread 
 of life and of the keys of heaven. There have always been, 
 and there are still, forms of Christianity which practically 
 deny that the human spirit stands in any immediate relation 
 with God. Great systems of church polity and of doctrine 
 are founded on the assumption that there is a great gulf 
 fixed between God and man, and that that gulf is not to be 
 bridged except by great and well-contrived appliances, ad- 
 ministered by those who are properly initiated into their 
 modes of working. In the most unlikely quarters it might 
 perhaps be found that the old heathen notion of a religious 
 aristocracy still survives, by whose favorable oflUces men 
 may advance themselves with God. 
 
 But the great interest of our text lies less in what it sug- 
 gests with regard to a particular class than in the standard 
 it sets up for the religion of all. It does away with the 
 
230 THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. fsERMON xiv. 
 
 priestly class, not by dragging it down, but by lifting up 
 the lives of those who do not belong to it. There is no 
 function of priesthood which the Christian who is alive to 
 his relations with the spiritual world may not find repre- 
 sented in his own personal experiences and actions. And 
 the end of sacerdotalism will have arrived when men in 
 general come to realize the sacredness and dignity of their 
 own lives as spiritual beings. There will always be priests 
 in the world. Of that the spiritual instincts and needs of 
 mankind will certainly take care. And there will be pi-iestly 
 assumptions and attempts at domination as long as men 
 remain too worldly or too indolent to claim this office for 
 themselves individually, as a part of their natural birth- 
 right. 
 
 Let us, then, consider what is meant when we find it is 
 .said in the New Testament that Christians as such are 
 priests to God. What are priests ? and in what way is that 
 title applied to Christians in general ? 
 
 We may mention three points in the priestly character 
 which we may appropriately, and in full sympathy with the 
 teaching of the New Testament, consider to be transferred 
 to ourselves. Firstly, the priest is set apart to his holy 
 office : he is consecrated or ordained. Secondly, the priest 
 stands in communication with God : he stands in God's 
 presence. Thirdly, the priest offers a sacrifice. 
 
 I. Consecration. — If the priesthood has generally been 
 marked off in various ways from the laity, if they have lived 
 in separate dwellings, if they have generally worn a profes- 
 sional dress, if they have absented themselves from certain 
 entertainments, and have not shared in certain pleasures in 
 themselves innocent, this is a happy symbol of that self- 
 denial and separation from the world which ought to have 
 a place in every life. Of course, when we speak of separa- 
 tion from the world, we do not mean going away from 
 mankind, and ceasing to take an interest or a part in its 
 
MENziEs.] THE CHRISTIAN FEIESTHOOD. 231 
 
 concerns. But to every man some object presents itself, 
 some purpose is revealed, which he feels that he ought to 
 follow, even though he has to turn away from many other 
 things he might desire. We speak of a man having an in- 
 ward call to the ministry when he feels it in him to speak 
 to his fellow-men of the counsel of God and of their duty. 
 It is a limited number who experience this call. But every 
 man has a call, more or less clear, to the work there is for 
 him to do, and to the character into which he ought to grow 
 up. There is an infinite variety of calls, as there are infi- 
 nite diversities of gifts and operations, all of which are 
 needed by the world, to help its many-sided growth. But 
 each of us has his call, and it is well for him if he recog- 
 nizes and obeys it. It points him to the work which for 
 him is sacred work, and for which he ought to give up all 
 besides, to buy this goodly pearl. And there is a secret or- 
 dination or consecration, though at the hands of no presby- 
 tery or bishop, by which those whose, ears are open to the 
 call addressed to them by their higher selves or the world's 
 needs, are set apart in their appointed sphere for the service 
 of God. The call may come in a very homely fashion, but 
 to the obedient spirit it can not be other than sacred and 
 religious. A man may feel it a duty to support his aged 
 parents, and give up for them his savings or his leisure. A 
 man may see it to be needful for the health of his spirit to 
 withdraw from society. The student is called on to give up 
 his ease ; the practical worker among men may be obliged to 
 sacrifice learning : these are but symbols of the great self- 
 consecration which in one form or another all are called to 
 make. To all of us there presents itself in one shape or 
 another the ideal with its beauty and its crown of thorns. 
 The world is full of priests unrecognized, who have taken 
 on themselves vows of faithfulness and poverty, and turned 
 away from what they too were fitted to enjoy. 
 
 In this sense, then, it is in the power of all of us to take 
 
232 THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. [sermon xiv. 
 
 upon ourselves the priestly character. Although he wears 
 no special dress, and does not live in any separate abode, 
 nor in any way give himself out to be holier than other 
 people, yet he who has heard God's call to duty and has 
 arisen to follow it, turning away from other pursuits and 
 pleasures, is in the highest and the best sense a priest to 
 God, separated from the world, and consecrated to the ser- 
 vice of the highest. 
 
 II. Worship. — In Judaism, as in other old religions, the 
 priest was thought to possess means of approaching the 
 Deity which ordinary men did not enjoy. The people re- 
 mained in the outer court, and could only see the priest pass 
 inward to the Holy Place, in which God was thought to 
 dwell between the cherubim, and which none of them could 
 hope ever to enter. In Christianity this is all changed. 
 We do not believe that any man, or any set of men, is in 
 possession of a special privilege which admits them to God's 
 presence, while others are excluded. And the reason why 
 we do not believe this is, that Christianity has given us a 
 new conception of where God dwells, and of the means to 
 be used to approach him. Where does God dwell ? Where 
 shall we say that the Most High is to be found ? Not in 
 any local shrine, not in any church with doors that men may 
 shut or open. We can not go to him upon our feet. We 
 can not send a message to him through another. No one 
 can go to him instead of us, if we do not go ourselves. No 
 one can debar us from his presence, if we wish to meet with 
 him. God is a Spirit, and He dwells in our spirits : that is 
 where we have to seek him. Our spirits are the temples of 
 the living God : in our spirits only can we meet with God 
 or Christ. Our worship, therefore, must take place where 
 no one but ourselves can come to be our priest. Of that 
 only true and real service of God which is offered in the 
 heart, all outward services, be they never so grand and 
 beautiful, and conducted by whatsoever dignitaries, are but 
 
MENZiES.] THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. 233 
 
 types and shadows. Our solemn march along the aisle up 
 to the altar where He dwells, our music and the burning of 
 our incense, our bowing down to the Most Holy, and the 
 offering of our prayer ; the absolution we receive, the sac- 
 ramental grace, the benediction with which we are sent 
 forth again into the world, all, all are inward and unseen. 
 The outward act of worship does but faintly symbolize this 
 inward and most solemn and only real contact with Divin- 
 ity. If we have not met with God in our own spirits, we 
 can not have met with him anywhere ; and this is a service 
 from which no one can exclude us, in which no one can take 
 our place or represent us. 
 
 Shall we not say, then, that we are priests, and dwell 
 each one of us, would we but know it, in the precincts of 
 the tabernacle of the Most High ? Each of us has bis own 
 sacred place of which he is the guardian, and which he is 
 charged to keep pure and bright for the sake of God who 
 loves to dwell in it. If we keep alive the worship belong- 
 ing to this sanctuary, that will be our best security against 
 forfeiting our liberty to a superstitious priesthood or an 
 outworn creed. How can we let any one stand between 
 God and our conscience, when we know that he is with us 
 in the hidden shrine to which we can at any time repair ? 
 How can we allow the conclusions of men long dead to be 
 the standard of our faith, when those relations which they 
 interpreted in the way suited to their age are present and 
 living in ourselves ? 
 
 III. Sacrifice. — The third point in regard to which it 
 may well be said that Christ has made us all priests is, that 
 we do not look to a professional priesthood to offer sacri- 
 fices for us, but offer sacrifice to God ourselves. In the 
 Jewish religion this was different. There was a particular 
 way in which the thing had to be done : a number of mi- 
 nute formalities had to be observed, and the priest was ac- 
 quainted with all these, so that the worshiper had to bring 
 
234 THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. [sermon xiv. 
 
 his sacrifice to the priest, and get him to offer it up to God 
 upon the altar. 
 
 But if God dwells in our spirits, then that must be the 
 place where our sacrifice has to be offered. And there no 
 one can offer it except ourselves. And, besides, when we 
 consider what is the nature of the sacrifice which Christians 
 are called on to present to God, we see that in such a matter 
 no one can possibly take our place. What is the sacrifice 
 God asks from us ? It is nothing outward, nothing that 
 can be transferred from one individual to another. It is 
 nothing different fFom ourselves. It is just ourselves. It 
 is our bodies, the apostle says ; that is to say, our whole 
 personality, not a dead but a living sacrifice, not a careless 
 but a holy sacrifice, not a material or mechanical but a rea- 
 sonable sacrifice. And if we are to offer ourselves to God, 
 then it is not an occasional or formal act that we are to 
 bring him, but all we are, all the seasons and all the de- 
 partments of our life — a sacrifice lasting all the week and 
 growing all the year. This is the true sacrifice, of which 
 all others are but types and suggestions. The cross of 
 Christ does not supersede it, but enables and encourages us 
 to offer it more simply and heartily. It need not express 
 itself in any special phrase or outward act ; it may be un- 
 seen by all the world. When we intrust the direction of 
 our life to the highest that is in us, when we yield to the 
 Spirit of God the guidance of our whole activity, and take 
 up duty with the cross that is bound to it, then we are of- 
 fering this sacrifice, and are the true successors of the priest- 
 hoods of old times. 
 
 Let it not be said that, if each man is to be his own 
 priest, we shall part company from each other, and cease to 
 find in relisjion a bond of union. It is not the case that the 
 purest and most spiritual faith opens the door to unbounded 
 individualism or makes a Church impossible. It would be 
 a poor compliment to pay to the Church, to imagine it to 
 
MENZiEs.] THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD. 235 
 
 be a condition of her existence that her members should not 
 give full heed to the voice of the Spirit that utters itself 
 within them. It is said, and historical examples are cited 
 to support the statement, that when men cast themselves 
 upon their inner consciousness of God, each man comes to 
 have a religion of his own, and common action becomes im- 
 possible. It would be well if each man had a religion of 
 his own, and not merely a copy of his neighbor's ; but that 
 should lead to no disintegration. If disintegration has at 
 any time taken place, it was not because men listened too 
 much, but because they did not listen wisely and in humil- 
 ity, to the voice of God in their hearts. For one of the 
 first words that we hear when we listen reverently to that 
 voice is one which bids us strive after unity with our fellow- 
 creatures. In retiring to the secret place of our personal 
 religion we are not fleeing from our kind, we are seeking 
 that which most truly unites us with them. The unity to 
 which we shall contribute by being true to our best inspira- 
 tions may not be identical with any of the organizations 
 now existing around us ; but it will be something greater. 
 While tolerant to those symbols and institutions which at 
 present afford in their degree the connection with each 
 other for which all religious hearts must yearn, we shall 
 look forward to a nobler fellowshii), a fellowship based not 
 on the shifting sands of intellectual assent or the needs of 
 to-day's policy, but on the simple recognition that in their 
 thirst for God and in their wish to serve him all men in 
 proportion to their sincerity are one. 
 
236 TEE ASSEMBLING OF fsEKnoN xv. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE ASSEMBLING OF OUESELYES 
 TOGETHER. 
 
 BY THE REV. JAMES NICOLL, MUKROES, FOUFAESHIRE. 
 
 " The assembling of ourselves together." — Heb. x, 25. 
 
 Man is eminently a social being. He craves for and 
 needs the company and cooperation of his fellow-men. 
 However rude may be his condition, he is at least capable 
 of associating with others. Of men in their savage as well 
 as in their most civilized state, it may always be said with 
 truth that their nature prompts and enables them to " as- 
 semble together." 
 
 No doubt the kinds of association that we see among 
 men are extremely varied. As men advance out of igno- 
 rance into civilization they become divided into different 
 sections. At first the members of a savage community are 
 equally familiar, each with all the rest, for practically there 
 is but one class ; but, as the community develops, yarious 
 classes arise ; various trades and interests arise ; and then 
 we find that men begin to form among themselves, as it 
 were, sub-associations. Different grades are evolved. The 
 poor come to sympathize and associate with each other, 
 and form a society by themselves ; and, in like manner, the 
 rich form their society, based, too, on mutual acquaintance 
 and sympathy. And so it comes about that this very in- 
 stinct of union, which at first leagued men together, at 
 length, in effect, works disunion. Whole classes bind them- 
 
NicoLL.] OURSELVES TOGETHER. 237 
 
 selves together in opposition to other classes. Do we not 
 sometimes see something of this at the present day ? The 
 memhers of one class will toil for each other, will make 
 sacrifices for each other, but, then, in so doing, they do 
 not hesitate to avow that the interest of their particular 
 class is paramount, and opposed to that of other classes. 
 And so the instinct of association, which at first bound a 
 community together, begins by and by to split it up and 
 to subdivide it. Each man seeks to associate, not with his 
 local neighbors, but with those who are like-minded or like- 
 interested with himself. The learned seek to associate with 
 the learned. They read the same books ; they discuss the 
 same questions ; they converse through the same periodi- 
 cals ; and with them the multitude outside holds but little 
 or no communication. The ignorant are most at home with 
 the ignorant. They yield to the same prejudices ; harbor 
 the same superstition ; are devoured by the same indiffer- 
 ence ; and they too become a class apart. It is the same 
 with the rich ; the same with the poor ; the same with 
 every well-marked difference of character and circumstance. 
 All are seeking to obey a social impulse. All are seeking 
 to " assemble themselves together " : only, whereas at first 
 they formed together but one compact mass, they come 
 latterly to be cut up into separate and even hostile sec- 
 tions ; and the danger which threatens every community 
 which has reached a certain stage of development is, that 
 that very power of association, which at first impelled 
 men to union, may latterly impel them to separation and 
 ruin. 
 
 Now, v/ere this all that were to be said of man's social 
 capacity, the result would be unsatisfactory beyond de- 
 scription. We should see only one invariable law of na- 
 ture dominating all human action, namely, the law of, first 
 union, and then dissolution. We should see nations and 
 communities first slowly building themselves up, and reach- 
 
238 THE ASSEMBLING OF [sermok xv. 
 
 ing a certain height of prosperity and strength, and then 
 gradually, by natural necessity, becoming the prey to inter- 
 nal struggle and discord. We should see, first of all, a na- 
 tion bound together by a vigorous sentiment of patriotism 
 inspiring its different members, and then, ultimately, be- 
 coming the scene of dissensions and jealousies among its 
 various classes, till at length, either by internal weakness 
 or external violence, its place was taken from it on the 
 earth. And, in point of fact, this is what, not once or 
 twice, but repeatedly, has been witnessed in the course of 
 history. A rude tribe of warriors, hardy and self-denying, 
 has " assembled itself together," and so laid the foundation 
 of a future nation. It has advanced, and conquered, and 
 become civilized, and formed a vast empire. It has sub- 
 jugated every enemy, fulfilled every ambition, left no stone 
 unturned to secure and perpetuate its greatness. And yet, 
 why has it disappeared like a dream from the woi'ld ? Why 
 has it collapsed in the moment of its triumph, and, with 
 steps swifter or slower, passed into oblivion ? Because of 
 the play of that very instinct of association which at first 
 built up its fortunes and its strength. The various classes 
 into which it had become divided came to think of them- 
 selves exclusively, and to forget the common weal. The 
 soldier thought of himself only ; the merchant of himself ; 
 the rich cared only for his pleasures and his privileges ; the 
 poor, no longer proud of simple independence, envied the 
 wealth that was not theirs. And so, each class " assembling 
 itself together " with itself only, and becoming alienated 
 from all other classes, the community became broken up 
 into contending fragments. This is what has been seen in 
 the past, and may possibly be repeated in the future. The 
 social power, therefore — the capacity that enables men to 
 "assemble themselves together" — would not of itself do 
 great things for mankind. It would first build up, indeed, 
 but then, in course of time, it would as infallibly pull down 
 
NicoLL.] OURSELVES TOGETHER. 239 
 
 again. It would first bind men together into one com- 
 munity, and then, splitting them up in due course into 
 various sections and hostile classes, it would impel them to 
 work out each other's ruin, and procure their common 
 downfall. 
 
 But this is not all that is to be said. The social instinct 
 in human natui'e has been laid hold of by a mightier power 
 than itself, viz., the power of I'eligion. Religion addresses < 
 us not as members of an outward society, but simply as ^ 
 human beings. It bids us unite with each other, not as 
 members of any particular community, or of one particular 
 class, but as partakers of the same common nature. It 
 speaks to us, not as rich men or poor men, or learned or 
 ignorant, but simply as men having the same hopes and 
 fears, the same human hearts, the same human sympathies. 
 It discounts all the outward distinctions that sejiarate to 
 the eye one man from another man, and stripping them 
 both bare, as beneath the gaze of God, says the same thing 
 to each. It deals with a region of experience, where all 
 men are on a level, and where all men understand each 
 other. It speaks of such things as conscience, guilt, par- 
 don, the hope of future bliss, peace and rest within. And 
 it bids men as beings equally interested in these things, as 
 beings having an equal stake in them, band themselves 
 together and form a union on that ground. As human be- 
 ings it tells them they have common woes ; common joys ; 
 commo.n aspirations ; common points of contact each with 
 all the rest. And hence religion, because it takes up this 
 position, is the true bond that permanently binds together 
 men as such. ISTo other bond within the ken of human 
 knowledge is there that can long hold men together. As 
 we have seen, the mere social instinct in man, if it unites 
 men at first, ultimately breaks up society into sections, and 
 separates man from man. Take religion out of human 
 affairs, and leave man to the ordinary play of natural forces, 
 
240 THE ASSEMBLING OF [sEKiioisr xv. 
 
 and then, however closely men may adhere to each other 
 for a time, their disunion comes sooner or later, and their 
 unsubstantial brotherhood is broken up and dissolved. The 
 poor will rise against the rich ; the rich will hate the poor ; 
 the many will tyrannize over the few ; class will conspire 
 against class ; and universal disintegration and discord will 
 be the issue. But the voice of religion comes to us, and, 
 bidding us turn from those outer things that excite by 
 turns our ambitions and our jealousies, speaks to us as the 
 inheritors and partakers of one common nature. It opens 
 up to us a sphere of union where disintegration and aliena- 
 tion need have no place. It appeals from the outer acci- 
 dents of life to the inner essentials of being. That we 
 have to deal with a just God, unto whom all secrets are 
 open, all desires known ; that we ai*e hastening onward to 
 the certain grave ; that we bear within us the sense of re- 
 sponsibility for an earthly stewardship — with vague hopes 
 that we can not always justify, and vague fears that we 
 can not always still ; that, in other words, we are more, far 
 more, than the traders, and the merchants, and the scholars, 
 the rich men or the poor men of outward appearance — this 
 does religion seek to make the ground of a new and inex- 
 haustible association. It seeks to bind us, to make us " as- 
 semble ourselves together" on the basis of our common 
 humanity. It discloses to us a bond of union which can 
 never be dissolved. If men, yielding to the social necessity 
 implanted in their natures, associate on any narrower basis, 
 in due time the association breaks up of its own accord, 
 and disintegrates. But if they associate on the broad 
 ground of their common human nature disclosed by religion 
 — seeking to understand each other ; seeking to sympathize 
 with each other ; seeking to correct and stimulate, and en- 
 courage and exhort each other — then, and then only, is their 
 union a stable union, with no seeds of future disruption 
 lying latent in its bosom. And this precisely is the union 
 
NicoLL.] OURSELVES TOGETHER. 241 
 
 jimong men which religion seeks to form and to foster. 
 The Church is the associating of men together simply as 
 men. Alone of all the organizations to which you can 
 point, it is this. Its members are not united to it by reason 
 of any sympathy based on similarity of calling, or simi- 
 larity of knowledge, or similarity of external position. 
 They are united to it, not as rich or poor, or learned or 
 ignorant, but simply as the possessors of a common human 
 nature, of common human feelings, of common human 
 sorrows, and joys, and hopes. Once within its pale, his 
 riches drop from the rich man, his poverty from the poor, 
 and each beholds the other as a brother soul, with common 
 griefs and common aspirations. This is the kind of union 
 which religion aspires to effect. It underlies and guaran- 
 tees all the other associations which men can form and de- 
 velop among themselves. It brings them all face to face 
 with each other and with God, and proclaims that, despite 
 minor differences and surface distinctions, all men are, at 
 heart, brethren, in virtue of possessing a common nature 
 and awaiting a like destiny. 
 
 Now, this being so, religion, as the name itself implies, 
 is the supremely binding force in human affairs. The word 
 religion simply means that which binds or ties together. 
 Other bonds are temporary, other unions are sure to be 
 broken up. But this bond, because it seizes on that in us 
 which is common to us all, and is built upon our essential 
 brotherhood, is the perpetual sweetener of human life, the 
 perpetual restraint on human passions, the perpetual en- 
 lightener of human conscience, the perpetual encourager of 
 human hope. Look, my friends, upon the most gigantic 
 achievements which men have attained to by cooperation as 
 workers, or statesmen, or conquerors, and you have no guar- 
 antee that these achievements, splendid as they seem, will 
 long endure. The nation, which to-day seems strongest 
 and most united, may, a century hence, be hastening to dis- 
 11 
 
242 THE ASSEMBLING OF [sermon xv. 
 
 solution. The community, which to-day seems harmoni- 
 ous by reason of its industry and plenty, may, ere long, be 
 in the throes of civil war — man flying at the throat of his 
 brother man. We knorw that such things have happened, 
 and what has happened once can occur again. But let men 
 be united together — not by mere statecraft ; not by peace 
 and plenty only ; not by industry only ; but by that knowl- 
 edge of each other's real and deepest wants, by genuine 
 sympathy, by genuine participation in each other's interest 
 and beneficence ; not as citizens merely, but as human be- 
 ings — in one word, by religion — let this be the union that 
 cements and unifies a nation or a people ; and then, be the 
 trials and difiiculties and social struggles of that people 
 what they may, there is a force among them that guaran- 
 tees their stability ; that will clear away misunderstand- 
 ings ; that will discredit violence and injustice, and stimu- 
 late mercy and helpfulness, as between individual and indi- 
 vidual, and class and class. But, on the other hand, let the 
 binding force of religion be absent from a community ; 
 let men forget to " assemble themselves together " as breth- 
 ren ; or let religion become a mere hollow form, without 
 power, or love, or sympathy ; let it be a thing of phrases 
 and unintelligible dogmas, pretending to describe that which 
 can not be known, and forgetting to look into the human 
 heart which lies close at hand — forgetting to be simply 
 truthful, and to deal with the soul's life as it actually exists 
 — then, I say, let a nation's prosperity be what it may, the 
 seeds of dissolution are there notwithstanding, slowly ger- 
 minating, and destined to bring forth in due time their 
 terrible fruits. Men will not cease to " assemble themselves 
 together " — to associate together in obedience to their social 
 instinct — no, that is a law of their nature and can not be 
 reversed ! — but, failing to unite in the bonds of religion, 
 they will unite merely in those of class-selfishness, in those 
 of reckless faction, in those of mutual antipathy, in those 
 
NicoLL.] OURSELVES TOGETHER. 243 
 
 of estrangement and lawless greed. There are countries in 
 Europe which at this moment are threatening to illustrate 
 these words. They have abandoned, wholly or in part, the 
 bond of sympathy as between man and man implied in the 
 practice of real religion, and, having thus parted with that 
 power which alone can restrain men's passions, and incline 
 them to justice, and mercy, and truth, they are falling back 
 on grim force, the stronger holding the weaker against its 
 will ; the weaker waiting in silent hope that its turn will 
 come next. That is the union imposed by external force, 
 and not the unity of inner life ; and the whole teaching of 
 past history is false, if such a state of matters be one that 
 can long continue. 
 
 Such, then, is the bond which religion seeks to f orai be- 
 tween us. Such, in its widest sense, is the " assembling of 
 ourselves together " which it contemplates. And it is that 
 wide bond of sympathy, making each seek to understand 
 the other, Avhich is typified, and made in a sense visible, by 
 our weekly assembling for public worship. The outer and 
 visible thing which we do here does not end with itself ; 
 it is meant to symbolize a far wider and deeper, even if 
 unseen, union subsisting between us as fellow-creatures ac- 
 countable to the same Creator. And it is only when we 
 remember what is behind, that we rightly understand the 
 symbol. It is not real religion, merely coming together out- 
 wardly, and participating in the stated rites of worship. 
 Such observances have no power of themselves to bind and 
 consolidate the life of a community or a congregation. It 
 is only when they are allied with heart-service — with the 
 desire of learning truth and duty, of yielding obedience to 
 the will of God, of being just, and true, and merciful to 
 our neighbor — that they express a reality and become a 
 badge of brotherhood between man and man. Nothing less 
 than this can adequately fill up the sense of tlie apostle's 
 words — " the assembling of ourselves together." 
 
244 THE ASSEMBLING OF [seemon xv. 
 
 And, yet, let us not disparage the outward symbol. Of 
 all beautiful customs in this world, what more beautiful 
 than that which brings together once a week the inhabi- 
 tants of a district, without respect of outward distinctions, 
 and makes them blend in a common fellowship of praise 
 and worship before the shrine of duty, and faith, and God ? 
 Here at least, if anywhere on earth, should men forget the 
 mere accidents of station and external circumstance, and 
 strive to think only of those things that belong to them in 
 common as the children of one Father, as the sharers of 
 common cares and burdens, as all equal before the throne 
 of grace and mercy. As we come together, not to know 
 those things that separate us, but rather those that unite 
 us, does it not oftentimes happen that the sorrow which is 
 bred of isolation is dispelled before the larger view we get 
 of life beside our fellow-creatures ? The grief that fed on 
 solitude, the care and disappointment which, in the loneli- 
 ness of our private dwellings, may have assumed exagger- 
 ated proportions, we bring them here, and, lo ! we are gen- 
 tly rebuked by the very presence of our neighbors, and 
 we overcome our selfishness or self-love. Here — if else- 
 where we might perhaps forget it — we are reminded that 
 others have their trials as well as we. Here — if elsewhere 
 faith has drooped within us, and life has seemed poor and 
 unworthy, and we have asked who will show us any good 
 — a simple word has recalled us to our better thoughts, and 
 bid us take heart anew, and fight once more the fight of 
 principle and faith. Those things which, as individuals, we 
 are shy and backward to commune about with one another ; 
 those sins we dare not confess ; those weaknesses and trials 
 we can not tell, but can only brood upon, we here give ut- 
 terance to ; and the language of public prayer, and the 
 voice of exhortation, and the song of gratitude give expres- 
 sion to our pent-up feelings, and we have relief. Yes, 
 there is a dignity in our assembled gatherings that does 
 
NicoLL.] OUBSELVES TOGETHER. 245 
 
 not belong to us as isolated individuals. There is a bless- 
 ing where two or three are met together, that hides itself 
 from only one. The petty things that belong to us as 
 units drop from us in the larger atmos23here of fellowship 
 with one another, and, by simple contact with our fellow - 
 Christians, we are elevated out of the commonness and de- 
 pression of our solitary lives. Week by week the muster- 
 roll seems read as we assemble ourselves together, and ever 
 and again some well-known form disappears, while others 
 come and take the vacant place. There seems to be ever 
 a twofold congregation at the spot where we meet : the 
 one we see, the other that we can not any longer see, but 
 can only recall. Flashes of memory will anon people pews 
 with faces now no more — and yet we remember that, even 
 where the living meet to cement their solemn league, the 
 departed rest in the silent, expectant majesty of the grave. 
 Death does not wholly sunder us from " the assembling of 
 ourselves together," for when our appointed day is done, 
 and the spirit goes to Him who gave it, it is here, beside 
 the place which religion has made its own, that we hope to 
 lay our ashes, and to await the future call. What more 
 beautiful custom can there be than that which links in life 
 and death generation to generation, and testifies to the 
 underlying unity that, beneath all diversities, unites the 
 souls of men before the eye of the almighty God ? 
 
 Let us, then, as we repair to our accustomed place of 
 worship, remember, in the light of what I have been say- 
 ing, the great object of our weekly gatherings. Here we 
 meet for ends only peaceful ; here we meet to renew and 
 strengthen the bonds of brotherly sympathy ; to symbolize 
 our community of faith and hope and joy before our IMaker. 
 May that which by its very design points us to the widest 
 and deepest aspects of our common nature never be per- 
 verted by our thoughtlessness or obstinacy into a badge of 
 separateness or aloofness from our fellow-men ! For, of all 
 
246 ASSEMBLING OF OURSELVES TOGETHER, [sermon xv. 
 
 perversions of the sacred symbol of public worship, that 
 surely is the blindest and the most mischievous which de- 
 grades the high token of human brotherhood into the occa- 
 sion of earthly jealousy and dissension. When such per- 
 versions are suffered, not only do the outward rites of reli- 
 gion lose, as it were, their very soul : they become active 
 sources of alienation and mutual misunderstanding ; and 
 Religion herself, so far as affected by her visible representa- 
 tives, forfeits her unique rank among the binding elements 
 of humanity, to take a lower place among those partial and 
 unstable associations, whose duration, however long, is 
 never more than temporary and accidental. Here, then, we 
 meet not to separate ourselves from others, but to remem- 
 ber our essential fellowship with them. Here we meet to 
 worship One who is the Father of all, and, in the recogni- 
 tion of his relationship to us, to recognize also our mutual 
 bonds to one another ; that so we may promote that great 
 fellowship of justice and love and mercy, which to exhibit 
 in our daily lives is both our greatest homage to God and 
 his best reward to us. We meet here to cultivate this 
 spirit ; to meet each other on common universal ground ; to 
 share each other's fears, and hopes, and faith ; to correct 
 each other's waywardness if need be ; to provoke and en- 
 courage each other to love and good works ; and so help 
 each other along " the trivial round, the common task," that 
 mark out for most of us the actual sphere of duty and ser- 
 vice. May this idea of true religion never forsake us, nor 
 we it ; and may this sacred edifice long stand to witness to 
 the reality of the human soul's fellowship with God through 
 Christ ! 
 
RAIN.] lA'DIVIDUALISM A^W THE CHURCH. 
 
 247 
 
 XYI. 
 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 
 
 BY THE RET. THOMAS RAIN, W. A., BUTTON, DUMFRIESSHIRE, 
 
 "In this place is one greater than the temple."— Matt, sii, 6. 
 "The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sab- 
 bath." — Mark ii, 27. 
 
 These two sayings of our Lord belong to one another, 
 and we may call the latter the complement of the former. 
 In the verse taken from Matthew He claims an extraordi- 
 nary position for himself, and in that from Mark He makes 
 the same claim on behalf of mankind. The claim made is 
 this : that the individual soul possesses rights superior to 
 ecclesiastical organizations, and by implication to all other 
 organizations that may be set up. For the principle enun- 
 ciated is so great and deep that it may be universally ap- 
 plied. The living soul, He seems to tell us, is Lord of all 
 earthly powers, and particularly of all institutions and 
 mechanisms which as vehicles of its thought it may choose 
 to frame. It is the creator of these. But for it, the vital 
 principle, they, the body, had not been ; and, when through 
 ignorance or sluggishness it forgets this fact and lets its 
 own creature rule over it, it, Esau-like, sells its birthright. 
 
 Such a doctrine must have come with startling effect 
 upon the Pharisees who heard it uttered ; though they 
 would hardly apprehend all it meant, and may have re- 
 garded it as the wild utterance of an egoistical enthusiast. 
 That it contained a spiritual principle Avhich is eternally at 
 
248 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sermon xvi. 
 
 war with all like them in the world would hardly enter 
 their thoughts, and possibly some of them deemed it so 
 visionary as to be harmless. But others would at least note 
 that the enthusiast had threatened the Temple, which was 
 the palladium of their system, and the Sabbath-day, which 
 was an important outwork of it. I doubt if the most ec- 
 clesiastically-minded among us can realize the obstinacy 
 with which a latter-day Pharisee would revere the Temple 
 at Jerusalem. For even orthodoxy in our day is less rigid 
 than it was then, and we are constitutionally of a less stub- 
 born temperament than the Jews. Besides, at that time 
 in Palestine the recovery of political freedom was thought 
 dependent on the continuance of the national religion ; and 
 to threaten or disparage the Temple was like damping pa- 
 triotic aspirations. It and the ordinances gathered round 
 it were expected to form a rallying principle for the na- 
 tion, and the Jew who spoke against it was marked down 
 for a traitor, no less than a heretic. 
 
 Therefore, I hardly know another saying of our Lord's 
 that, from the priestly point of view, looks so revolutionary 
 as these. For they cut away the very ground on which 
 priesthoods take their stand, and, were their principle uni- 
 versally recognized, there Avould be no room for sacerdotal- 
 ism anywhere. Like Noah's dove, it would find no rest for 
 the sole of its foot, but would be driven back to the place 
 whence it came out, the uncivilized or half-civilized under- 
 standing. But unhappily the world is ruled to a very small 
 extent by spiritual principles, and to a very large extent by 
 expediency and the imitative instinct ; one consequence of 
 which is that priesthoods have abounded and do abound. 
 Further, we need not expect them to be extinguished in 
 our time, or our children's time, and it is probably better 
 that they should exist yet awhile. Had they never been 
 necessary to the world's development, they had never been 
 in it, and, were they altogether useless to-day, they would 
 
RAIN.] INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CnURCII. 249 
 
 speedily disappear. It is because there is still a certain co- 
 adaptation between the spirit of man and the overgrown 
 Romish hierarchy, as well as other hierarchies, which, 
 though disclaiming Rome, are yet its satellites, that Popery 
 so successfully holds its ground. But, as man advances, 
 sacerdotalism must retrograde ; as he comes to a clearer 
 consciousness of the powers within himself, he will give less 
 heed to external guides to truth, though they be never so 
 venerable. 
 
 Our subject, then, is Individualism and the Church. 
 That is to say, we have to show in what relationship Chris- 
 tianity would have the soul stand to ecclesiastical institu- 
 tions : how under one form of the relationship such insti- 
 tutions are of great value, while under another form of it 
 they are turned into a curse. It is a large subject, and 
 exhaustive treatment of it can not be pretended to ; but 
 some consideration of its more important aspects may have 
 its uses. 
 
 Institutions are to be the servant of man, says Christ : 
 liable to modification, to increase or diminution, to total 
 annihilation, as the needs of his spirit may determine. He 
 is to have entire power over them as the potter has power 
 over the clay, and may mold them to his several purposes, 
 or, if it suit him better, may break them under his foot. 
 Like the ancient slave, relatively to his master, they are 
 to be wholly in his hands for life or death. The world in 
 which he lives is a place of ceaseless transformation, and, 
 as other conditions of his life change, Christianity gives 
 him the power of changing also the institutions in which 
 his faith is enshrined. Creeds and ordinances conformable 
 to one age may not be conformable to the next, and man 
 is to judge how far and in what direction they need modi- 
 fication. The right of adding to or taking from them is 
 given by God into his hand. This is the doctrine of our 
 Lord. 
 
250 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sermon xvi. 
 
 But the doctrine of all priesthoods is the opposite of 
 this ; for they make man the servant of ecclesiastical in- 
 stitutions, which they hedge about with theories of divine 
 right that bristle with clever logic. With arguments which 
 may be drawn from grounds of expediency or from the 
 sentiment of reverence, in favor of retaining old institu- 
 tions, there need be no quarrel. It is a different thing 
 when it is argued that they stand above man, and that his 
 part is simply to bow down to them. When, according to 
 this theory, the divine afflatus comes into the world, it is 
 through a corporate body — a huge piece of mechanism — 
 that it comes, and not, as in old prophetic times, through 
 the individual soul — some lonely soul that thought had 
 driven into the desert. The Roman Pontiff may be de- 
 scribed as the axis of this mechanism, and his cardinals, 
 bishops, fathers, and councils, with all their picturesque 
 symbolisms, as well as sacerdotally -minded Protestants, as 
 machinery revolving round him. These form the elaborate 
 body which God out of his mere good pleasure has elected 
 to frame for the truth, and apart from this body satisfac- 
 tory knowledge of the truth need not be hoped for. Ordi- 
 nary mortals, who may not be bishops or fathers, must yet 
 adhere to this mechanism as unimportant atoms of it, or 
 they *' will without doubt be damned everlastingly " ! So 
 declares priestcraft. 
 
 Time was, of course, when human nature needed such 
 representations of God and spiritual things to excite its rev- 
 erence, and, had the Word not been made flesh in the sacer- 
 dotal form, it had probably gained fewer votaries. The 
 fact may hold good to some extent yet, and we need have 
 no quarrel with it ; but with those who say that in its nature 
 it is divine, that it is unchanging and indestructible, as Prot- 
 estants we are forced to quarrel. Such a state of things, we 
 hold, is necessarily provisional, and useful and admirable 
 when recognized as such ; but, when endowed with infal- 
 
KAiN.J INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 251 
 
 libility, called sacred and eternal, and all the rest of it, a 
 great mischief. That it should ever have been so regarded 
 is not altogether strange, but that amid modern enlighten- 
 ment such a view should be persisted in, and by men of 
 genius and virtue, seems to me passing strange. 
 
 How it came that purely human ordinances were first 
 invested with divine qualities, said to be inspired, and 
 deemed of supernatural authority, appears, when we think 
 of it, plainer than many things. It is closely connected 
 with the deep reverence all ages feel toward a great man, 
 and the faculty they lack for rightly comprehending him. 
 A few, of course, have clear enough spiritual perception to 
 distinguish between his essential truths and the outward 
 covering of them, but this is not a gift that in its integrity 
 falls to many. What the people fix their minds upon are 
 the material forms which their revered hero laid hold of as 
 vehicles of expression, and through which his moral nature 
 flowed into action. They perceive that, working through 
 these, he achieved magnificent results, and then infer, in- 
 nocently enough, that some special virtue must belong to 
 them. It will depend on the bent of the man's genius, 
 the accident of his social position, the age and country he 
 lives in, what these forms shall be. They may be this or 
 that theological theory, a political institution, an education- 
 al system, some special mode of exercising self-restraint, of 
 gaining moral stimulus, and always that for which, in the 
 circumstances, his nature has affinity. They are called up 
 by his mind spontaneously, almost unconsciously, and are 
 always found, when tried, to help him to his object. But 
 his time comes and death takes him away. The forms, how- 
 ever, are left behind him, all shining with a wondrous radi- 
 ance ; and it is not usually considered that it is a reflected 
 and not an inherent radiance which gilds them. Whether 
 it came out of their originator's spirit, or is native to the 
 forms, is a question not patiently examined ; and hence, in a 
 
252 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sermon xvi. 
 
 generation oi- two, we have the forms irrationally exalted, 
 while the mind that throbbed behind them is forgotten. It 
 is not consciously or designedly forgotten, but to cling to 
 the letter and neglect the spirit seems a failing inseparable 
 from popular thought. In the most of us, by nature, the 
 senses are more active than the intellect, so that the exter- 
 nal details of a life, its outward vesture, are more readily 
 apprehended than its soul or principle. Only to a thought- 
 ful individual here and there does it occur that the forms 
 through which the great man worked were accidental, and 
 more the product of the time he lived in than of himself. 
 Had the general circumstances been different, their charac- 
 ter would have been different too. It was the living spirit 
 of the thinker, and not his machinery, that worked the signs 
 and wonders. Were not this the case, no age need ever 
 perish through lack of power ; for always the symbols of 
 dead prophets are lying about like fossils in the rocks to 
 help it. But, alas ! they do not help it, and, apart from the 
 soul that gave them being, can not help it, any more than 
 the magician's rod can conjure without the magician. To 
 fancy they can is like fancying you could paint sublimely if 
 you had Raphael's brush, or become a great violinist with 
 Paganini's violin. The fallacy of such a fancy is patent, 
 and we know that the musician's and painter's art comes by 
 a less ready method. Yet it is on a strictly analogous mis- 
 take that sacerdotalism is founded, and the mistake has 
 quite as absurd an aspect in the latter case as in the former. 
 It is fully as irrational to expect that by such legerdemain 
 you can cultivate the religious life as to think you can gain 
 by it artistic dexterity. 
 
 Such considerations, I think, if properly used, form a 
 key that lays open to us the mental process by which church 
 organizations have been raised above the individual soul ; 
 and explain how, long ago, the Sabbath was made more 
 than man, and the Temple more than Christ. It is an error 
 
BADT.] INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 353 
 
 incident to a period of civilization when the senses are yet 
 regnant, and the deep powers of thought undeveloped. 
 
 ' The Saviour's principle, on the other hand, is the out- 
 come of a look into life with the clear eye of the spirit. 
 What he perceived was this : that there is always the be- 
 lieving man, God-created and God-inspired, and after him 
 this, that, and the other institution. Given the devout soul, 
 and churches become possible ; without this they are wholly 
 impossible. For, as the web comes out of the spider, creeds, 
 ordinances, and polities come forth from the inner life of 
 man ; and their character is in strict harmony with the char- 
 acter of that inner life. When the thinking soul conceives 
 its idea comprehensively, and in a form corresponding to 
 the general convictions of the age, the institution reared 
 upon it is sure to be influential. The superficial, eccentric 
 idea, on the other hand, does not become a jDrinciple of 
 organization so readily, and when it does succeed its influ- 
 ence is limited. Some insignificant sect may be formed 
 out of it — for every age has its proportion of minds that 
 love the fantastic — but no wide-spreading Church. 
 
 Another circumstance to be observed is this : that every 
 idea which is congruous with the age it appears in, every 
 idea that marks a new epoch in culture, spontaneously 
 weaves a body for itself ; and there is little need of distinct 
 conscious effort being made to give it fitting organization. 
 I suspect it is rather ill than well with man when he says 
 deliberately to himself, " Now we have got a great, fresh 
 thought among us, let us found an institution to preserve 
 it." For it belongs specially to the nature of such thoughts 
 to build a habitation for themselves, and to do so by a noise- 
 less, almost unconscious process. The idea takes the me- 
 chanical faculties into its service, and these weave for it a 
 material vesture, but so completely are they subject to the 
 idea that they know not precisely what they are about. 
 Their aim is not to produce this or that well-proportioned 
 
254 li^BIVlDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [seemon xvi. 
 
 institution of which they knew the plan beforehand, but 
 they act as though they were inspired, and simply to satisfy 
 the feeling of the hour. And this process, time after time 
 repeated, and earned on sometimes for ages, will generally 
 result in an organization of great strength and adaptability. 
 For, as we have often been reminded in our time, " institu- 
 tions are not made, but grow " ; which is a most correct 
 observation, and is admirably illustrated in the case of the 
 Church visible. That grew up gradually out of the needs 
 and aspirations in which the spiritual consciousness from 
 time to time expressed itself ; and all that is best in it is 
 the product of the understanding incited by the spirit, not 
 working mechanically by itself. There must always be the 
 living soul ere there can be a well-proportioned body, as 
 Spenser in his " Hymn to Beauty " teaches : 
 
 " For of the soul the body form doth take, 
 For soul is form, and doth the body make." 
 
 But how the soul passes into material substance, building 
 itself a temple and filling the earth with firm and beautiful 
 structures — beautiful for a time at least — I profess not to 
 understand. It is a mystery which I can not fathom. One 
 thing, however, is probable : that no great historical organ- 
 ization ever was created by other agency than I have here 
 named, viz., an impassioned life, often a religious faith, 
 subsisting in the heart of man. Patient contriving of the 
 understanding, knowing adaptation of means to ends, never 
 of itself created such an institution. These have generally 
 been a valuable auxiliary in the work ; but the moving, 
 masterly power is always an illuminating thought, a burn- 
 ing conviction in the mind of some individual. The Sav- 
 iour understood all this, and in conformity with it enthroned 
 the living soul — the divine soul and the human we may say, 
 his own and that of man — above the venerablest institutions : 
 " I say unto you, that in this place is one greater than the 
 
EAJN. 
 
 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 255 
 
 temple " ; " The Sabbath was made for man, and not man 
 for the Sabbath." 
 
 Let us look in a genera! way at the conceptions of truth 
 that are involved in these several principles. What is truth ? 
 is a very ancient question, and has been answered in a thou- 
 sand varieties of ways. It has also been declared incapable 
 of any answer that is trustworthy. I would not add one 
 more to the endless definitions of it that have been framed. 
 My object is to show what idea Ecclesiasticism and Indi- 
 vidualism have each got about its relation to the under- 
 standing. Do they represent it as that with which the 
 understanding has a necessary connection, or as a thmg of 
 foreign texture, which only makes the mind its temporal 
 habit'at, and which, like the ancient eremite relative to the 
 world, lodges in it without being of it ? Has it a subjective 
 or objective origin ? is it indigenous to consciousness, or 
 something imported into it ? The view which a particular 
 system or institution takes of such a question will have a 
 strong influence on its practical line of action, and we can 
 not appreciate rightly the practical value of Ecclesiasticism 
 and Individualism till we ascertain the way in which they 
 answer it. It is their speculative conceptions of truth, their 
 theory as to where it comes from, and how it comes, that 
 determines their character, and gives motive to their policy. 
 Now, it is the doctrine of Ecclesiasticism in its integrity, 
 and as represented by Rome, that the human soul possesses 
 no natural faculty for apprehending the absolutely true. A 
 certain power of thought is admitted to it, but it is of that 
 mechanical kind which gives rise to industrial life, and not 
 of the spiritual order whence come the doctrines of religion. 
 These doctrines originate without, and are conveyed by an 
 external authority into the mind, which forms a fitting 
 nidus for their reception, but between them and the nidus 
 there is no vital union possible. The fostering care of the 
 Church is needed to keep them active, and guard them 
 
256 INDIVIDUALISM AND TEE CHURCH. |8eemon xvi. 
 
 against corruption, and when that is withdrawn, or if it be 
 discarded, they instantly disappear. At all events, their 
 charm ceases to work, and the spiritual principle is taken 
 out of man's life. For that is the gift of the Church, and 
 is only given to those who put themselves in connection 
 with her holy ordinances. 
 
 By the light shed from this doctrine, we readily perceive 
 why Ecclesiasticism should have been so fierce an opponent 
 to the free exercise of reason in judging the truth. Its 
 opposition has been based on a conviction that reason and 
 truth were two things essentially different, and that the 
 former could not tell anything reliable about the latter. It 
 might, no doubt, try its powers, and frame theories ; but, 
 because between it and what it theorized about there was 
 no community of nature, its deductions could only lead 
 astray. The proper place for reason, therefore, was to be 
 chained under the feet of ecclesiastical authority. And no 
 right-minded Christian would expose his faith to its laAvless 
 criticism, any more than he would put his watch for adjust- 
 ment into the hands of a plowboy or a savage. In both cases 
 the operator would be in total ignorance of what he operated 
 upon, and the result would be pernicious. Hence Ecclesias- 
 ticism has regarded every new encroachment of the ration- 
 alistic principle as so much territory won from the realm 
 of light and order, and put under the dominion of anarchy. 
 Hence its jealousy of philosophy and science, of democratic 
 movements, of all sorts of innovation, and its exaltation of 
 the past at the expense of the present. That inspiration of 
 the Almighty which giveth man — all men — understanding, 
 finds no acknowledgment in its creed ; and the so-called 
 inner light is viewed by it as a dangerous Will-o'-the-wisp, 
 to be guarded against continually. 
 
 It is the doctrine of Individualism, on the other hand, 
 that truth in its nature is subjective, a part of the spiritual 
 consciousness, and necessarily involved in it. This doctrine 
 
KAiN.] INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CTIURCn. 257 
 
 is scattered all tliroiigli the prophetic writings of the Bible, 
 and is sometimes stated there with antique Hebraic vehe- 
 mence. We meet with it under a very beautiful form in 
 Deuteronomy, and, if the modern theory of that book's ori- 
 gin be correct, it is a strange place to find it : " For this 
 commandment, which I command thee this day, it is not 
 hidden from thee, neither is it far off : it is not in heaven, 
 that thou shouldest say, Who shall go up for us to heaven, 
 and bring it unto us, that we may hear it and do it ? Neither 
 is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say. Who shall go 
 over the sea for us, and bring it unto us, that we may hear 
 it and do it ? But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy 
 mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it." 
 
 Here is the profoundest spiritual truth stated in quaint, 
 picturesque fashion, but so simply that he who runs may 
 read. To form a correct philosophy of religion I do not 
 think we need add much to what this passage gives us. If 
 we bring to explicit consciousness the ideas that are latent 
 in it, and give them an orderly setting, it will be enough. 
 I would be satisfied with emphasizing the general fact that 
 religious truth is by this passage placed on an internal and 
 personal basis. It is represented as that which springs up 
 in the hidden depth of man's soul, and for which God has 
 prepared no other place than this hidden depth. This is 
 the Christian view ages before the coming of Christ : and 
 we can fearlessly admit that there is a real sense — more real 
 than is known to dogmatic exegesis — in which the Saviour 
 may be found in the Old Testament books. Neither shalt 
 thou sav, Lo here it is in this church ! nor, Lo there it is in 
 that ceremony ! for " the kingdom of God is within you " 
 is a word that was sounded by the ancient prophets long 
 before He sounded it who is the Light of the World. The 
 kinirdom of God is within us, but of its times and ways of 
 coming unto us no man knoweth. In all ages there have 
 been thousands who imagined they could know — there arc 
 
258 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CEURGH. [sermon xvi. 
 
 thousands among ourselves. But the grandest treatise ever 
 given to the world on this subject is the half-dozen words 
 of Jesus to Nicodemus, which say, in effect, that there can 
 be no treatise. " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and 
 thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it 
 Cometh, and whither it goeth : so is every one that is born 
 of the Spirit." The Holy Spirit's work is as mysterious as 
 the wind, says the Lord ; and, in this winged sentence, the 
 whole race of theological triflers and. pedants have their 
 trifling and pedantry rebuked. 
 
 It is desirable to say something about the way in which 
 Ecclesiasticism and Individualism stand related to the ques- 
 tion of evidence. Probably there never was an age when 
 the question was surrounded by so much interest as it is at 
 present. Persons, who by every circumstance of their life 
 are outside the learned and controversial classes, are pon- 
 dering it with anxiety ; and new books relating to it find 
 their way not only into the scholar's study, but into the 
 homes of public men and men of business. Women, and 
 youths too, read that the dear faith which illumines and 
 strengthens them may be preserved. " Refute materialism 
 for us or we die," is what thousands are calling out to their 
 theological masters, and with a passionate earnestness, al- 
 most a vehemence, never known before ; sometimes with a 
 fear, alas ! that their prayer may prove futile. 
 
 There is something deeply touching, perhaps tragical, in 
 this expectation which the multitude have of getting evi- 
 dence for religious truth from their spiritual teachers. Evi- 
 dence of a sort they doubtless do get, which may serve them 
 well enough if they keep in sheltered places away from the 
 currents of scientific criticism, but which proves very vul- 
 nerable when unreservedly exposed to these ; and perhaps 
 the best advice that could be given to simple souls just now 
 — if they are at all susceptible — is to remain in these shel- 
 tered places where there is no danger. Better that their 
 
KAiN.] INDIVIDUALISM AND TUE CUURCIL 259 
 
 faith should rest on an insecure basis — not felt to be so by 
 them — than that they should have no faith at all. Any- 
 thing rather than that they should sink permanently into 
 that night of skepticism whence have been emitted some 
 of the dreariest cries in literature. Better even the shriek 
 of the " revivalist " than the " vanity of vanities " of Eccle- 
 siastes. 
 
 Now, we learn on reflection that evidence divides itself 
 into two great classes, one of which naturally connects 
 itself with the sacerdotal principle of religion, the other 
 with the individualistic. That which is homogeneous with 
 sacerdotalism refers as a rule to historical testimony, calls 
 in the aid of empirical logic, and generally adopts the meth- 
 od of verification employed in science. Where the thing to 
 be proved is conceived as wholly outside the mind and of 
 a different nature from it, it is hard to imagine any other 
 method that would work ; and the speculative position 
 taken up by ecclesiasticism leaves it almost no choice as to 
 its mode of proof. It has to demonstrate its doctrines after 
 the same manner as physical science does. Leaving out of 
 view all philosophical objections to this mode, there is a 
 practical one of very great force which it is worth our 
 while to consider. The objection is the want of success 
 which this sort of evidence for religious truth has hitherto 
 had in combating scientific skepticism. That it has been 
 unsuccessful will probably not be admitted by the Christian 
 controversialist. But the whole life both of nature and man 
 will soon be the recognized domain of physical science, 
 and then there will be seen more clearly than now the in- 
 ability of religion to defend itself by the old empirical 
 method. People will have to relinquish it altogether or 
 discover a new basis for it, and uphold it by a more en- 
 lightened method. Let Christian apologists be ever so 
 clever or so laborious, they will have to change their prin- 
 ciples ere they can make much way among the educated 
 
260 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sermon xvi. 
 
 classes. I believe they will have to make trial of that form 
 of evidence which connects itself with Individualism, where- 
 of the principle is this : that religious truth is its own evi- 
 dence, and the ultimate court of appeal the spiritual con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 This is a position that hitherto has served the material- 
 ists much as Samson served the Philistines — it has made 
 sport for them. " Intuition," " necessary truth," the " sub- 
 jective method," are things that they have laughed at, and 
 battered with their keen logic alternately. Skepticism has 
 sneered, and bigotry has raged, and between these two fires 
 the spiritual philosophy has sometimes had a hard time of 
 it. But the deep-minded men of the world have been on 
 its side. That this universe has a supra-sensuous basis, and 
 is far more than it seems to be, is a conception round which, 
 in all ages, genius and intellect have ranged themselves ; 
 and though they have often erred in systematizing their 
 thought, and may err again, something in them has kept 
 them true to its principle. But we are only concerned here 
 with the spiritualistic or transcendental principles of evi- 
 dence, and these tell us, as I say, that the criterion of truth 
 in religious matters lies in the soul itself. According to 
 these, it is not by a logical arrangement of facts, nor by the 
 cleverness of empirical philosophers, that religion is to be 
 defended, but by the witness of the Spirit to what is true, 
 which is part of the nature of the regenerate man. And 
 the popular apologist ought to consider whether, fighting 
 the battle of Christianity on an objective basis, he is not 
 rather harming his cause than helping it. For, the moment 
 you bring the reasons for your belief from the depths of 
 inner consciousness, and state them logically on paper, a 
 thousand to one but they seem feeble to yourself. There 
 are processes in human nature that very few of us have as 
 yet found a phraseology for giving clear expression to, and 
 I am afraid, if the spiritual ideas of the Bible and of later 
 
RAIN.] INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CnURCH. 201 
 
 teachins: do not commend themselves as true to tbe con- 
 sciousness of those who read them, there is no method at 
 present by which they can be proved. At all events, in the 
 present state of popular culture, philosophical proof of them 
 could not be made widely intelligible. And perhaps the 
 best " Evidences of Christianity " which in the mean time 
 can be had are those inarticulate intuitions and feelings 
 which dwell deep down in believing souls ; that intense, 
 unaccountable life which has inspired men fi'om the begin- 
 ninsT, and which the wisest of them have ever looked on as 
 a mystery. That the day shall never come when this life 
 shall find a voice, and be able to give intelligible account 
 of itself, I by no means suggest. Meanwhile, it is to the 
 great majority of us as good as dumb, and only gives us 
 vague hints which one can not communicate to another. 
 Each one must possess it for himself to understand its secret. 
 And this is why I described this spectacle of the multitude 
 looking to theology for evidence to support its faith as pa- 
 thetic and even tragical. The evidence that theology is 
 able or willing to provide is not in this age particularly 
 valuable, and people should be taught, though with caution, 
 to seek refuge from unbelief in their spiritual instincts. 
 These, at all events, possess a much greater value than ar- 
 gumentative divinity. The state of religious belief is not 
 a state into which an individual ever can be reasoned : for 
 faith is an organic growth of the soul, caused, we may say, 
 by the wonder-working of God's Spirit, and about which 
 the common logic knows nothing. 
 
 Some weight might also be given to the circumstance 
 that no great religious teacher ever troubled himself about 
 the evidences, in the common sense of that term. "Where 
 are the subtile argumentations of the ancient prophets, or 
 of our Lord, and where their testimonies from history ? 
 It seems ridiculous to propose such a question. In them 
 the individualistic principle dwelt strongly, and hence they 
 
262 INDIVID WALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sermon xvi. 
 
 appealed for proof to the hearts and consciences of men, 
 the witness that was within their hearers. And there is 
 nothing grander in their lives than the way they bore them- 
 selves amid the race of ecclesiastical reasoners, themselves 
 reasoning not. It was not for them to mingle their great 
 voices with the vulgar polemics of the time. 
 
 But, in setting forth a view of the more prominent 
 aspects of Ecclesiasticism and Individualism, something 
 should be said about their relation to the established oppo- 
 sition of secular and sacred. Such opposition is a neces- 
 sary expression of Ecclesiasticism, and in ancient times 
 when that principle was everywhere dominant it was more 
 distinctly seen than now. There were secular and sacred 
 times, secular and sacred places, secular and sacred actions, 
 secular and sacred doctrines, and of each of these a consid- 
 erable variety. But now, among most Protestant commu- 
 nities, the opposition exists actively in the sphere of doc- 
 trine only ; while of the large number of sacred days there 
 is but one, the Sabbath-day, remaining. This is owing to 
 the action of the individualistic principle, out of which 
 Protestantism took its rise, and the tendency of which is to 
 extinguish the opposition altogether. For it leads neces- 
 sarily to the Pauline position that there is nothing clean or 
 unclean of itself, but that everything becomes one or the 
 other according as we conceive it. It is the way in which 
 we think of things, and the uses to which we put them, 
 that determine whether or not their character is religious ; 
 and all places, times, and ideas are holy to the holy-minded 
 man. Such a thought probably does not fill, as an inspir- 
 ing faith, the mind of the great Protestant multitude, for 
 in the unthinking masses the echoes of a bygone creed sur- 
 vive for ages ; but there are, I fancy, few among them who 
 would not acquiesce in it were it brought intelligently be- 
 fore them. This acquiescence would be the outcome of 
 that Individualism which is working unconsciously in the 
 
RAIN.] INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 263 
 
 atmosphere of the age. Once it has established itself, and 
 taken conscious possession of the age, it will, if it be a true 
 and not a false Individualism, extinguish the division be- 
 tween the Church and the world entirely, snbstituting for 
 it that grand idea of St. Paul, " To the pure all things are 
 pure.** With this idea pervading and tilling our souls, we 
 shall come to perceive that the whole universe of conscious- 
 ness is at our service for spiritual culture. The earth, says 
 the Positivist, exists for the economical good of man ; and 
 Science is the thrifty handmaiden that finds where its trea- 
 sures lie, and applies them to his uses. This is a sound 
 enough doctrine, but as Christians we must go beyond it. 
 We must say in addition that the earth is given us for the 
 culture of our souls, and that Christian philosophy is the 
 instrument that explains to us its complex symbols. Chris- 
 tian philosophy must take up the discoveries of science and 
 give to them a spiritual interpretation. Earth's seas and 
 skies, its rocks and animals, the foliage and the flower, the 
 flux and reflux of its life, its iron, relentless laws, and the 
 marvelous history of man are all facts through which God 
 would teach and discipline us. They are a portion of his 
 revelation, and not one of them but shadows forth his be- 
 ing and his thought. I believe there is none of them which 
 has not got amoral counterpart that may become interfused 
 with our being. We may find them not only givers of the 
 bread that perishes, but in some sense givers also of the 
 bread of life. 
 
 It might be said further, that if Individualism were to 
 extinguish the opposition between secular and sacred, and 
 Paul's conception were to lay hold of us, preaching would 
 then become practical. That is to say, it would no longer 
 confine itself to one set of ideas, and these of a bygone age, 
 but, studying the world that lies around it, would address 
 itself to the jjroblems, moral and intellectual, that are press- 
 ing on the present. With open and sympathetic mind it 
 
2G4 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [sekmon xvi. 
 
 would turn toward the highways of every-day life, and 
 would gather from its scenes and incidents the materials of 
 a finer eloquence than the study of books can give. The 
 love and sorrow that are in poor men's dwellings, the labor 
 that fills the day, and the rest that comes with evening, the 
 laughter of children, and the brow laden with care, earth's 
 sunlight and starlight, the noisy stir of life, and the mystery 
 of death — these are the things that, passed through the fire 
 of Christian thought, have power to move mankind. And 
 the true office of the preacher in modern society is to be a 
 revealer of the beauty and the deep meaning which lie in 
 such common phenomena, but which the world, engrossed 
 with its business, has neither time nor faculty to discover. 
 He should strive so to speak, that when people hear him they 
 will feel that their own life — which they had deemed so 
 stale and unprofitable — is coming back to them, in his words, 
 an august and venerable thing, because ennobled by having 
 every fact of it construed as in relation to Christianity. 
 Then our religious life, fed from fresher and more numer- 
 ous springs than hitherto, would become robust and manly, 
 not a thing to shun the noontide struggle of the world and 
 walk in shady places, but that which stands forth to hallow 
 toil, and make business pure, and all intercourse sweet, and 
 give the state an ennobling policy. 
 
 There is one most pernicious growth of the sacerdotal 
 principle that should not be left unnoticed, I refer to 
 the ecclesiastical self-consciousness which exhibits itself so 
 strongly in many of our Protestant Churches, and which is 
 a real hindrance to their spiritual usefulness. It fosters a 
 party spirit in them and makes them very active in the mat- 
 ter of statistics. It gives them a sharp eye for denomination- 
 al differences. It gives them also a wonderful knowledge of 
 the scriptural theory of Church government, and such mat- 
 ters. But, of the soul's spiritual quickening and evolution 
 out of ignorance and earthliness into divine wisdom, it 
 
BAIN. J INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH. 2G5 
 
 teaches them little. Mechanism is its God, and consequent- 
 ly it has little faith. It believes only in what the outward 
 eye can see, and the logic of the understanding can trace. 
 The evidence of things not seen — of the powers of spiritual 
 thought, whose working is silent — has no place in its com- 
 position. 
 
 I would say, in closing, that the struggle between the 
 two principles of Ecclesiasticism and Individualism is des- 
 tined to be one of the great struggles of the future. It has 
 been going on since the Protestant Reformation began, and 
 in every later age on a wider scale, pushing itself into new 
 departments of thought and life ; and it can not cease until 
 one of the combatants is driven from the field, and unity 
 has been brought back to the spiritual sphere of man's life. 
 I think the heretical outbreakings of our time must possess 
 an importance even to thinking minds when seen to connect 
 themselves with this struggle. 
 
 Lastly, let it be understood that the Individualism which 
 I advocate is not a lawless or profane Individualism, but 
 one which the mind only can develop when quickened by 
 God's Spirit. And let no one imagine that I ignore the 
 value of ecclesiastical organizations, or would have those 
 existing destroyed. The inward life necessarily embodies 
 itself in visible institutions, and though spiritual thought 
 may have ebbed low in many of our churches it has not 
 wholly left any of them, and they are performing a useful 
 work. Their doctrines are the bread of life to thousands, 
 and they form a real holy of holies, in which devout souls 
 all over Christendom worship. I would only warn you 
 against entering into a false relation to them, calling them 
 your master and lord, and forgetting they are your servant ; 
 raising them to the position of an end, and forgetting they 
 are but a means. And I would say, especially, that not a 
 single doctrine of which they are the official guardians — 
 the most essential or the most accidental doctrine, the ear- 
 12 
 
266 INDIVIDUALISM AND THE CHURCH, [seejion xvi, 
 
 liest framed or the latest added — can be of moral value to 
 anybody when taken into the mind at the bidding of au- 
 thority. 
 
 Let the simple-minded Christian, who hears of progress 
 and dreads the havoc it may work upon his creed, gather 
 comfort from the thought that the spirit of true religion is 
 eternal. The visible body of it may wax old like a gar- 
 ment, and as a vesture God — or man under God — may 
 change it, and it shall be changed. But this shall only be 
 that Religion may weave for itself a simpler and more 
 fitting covering ; and, when the churches of the present 
 break up and go their way, they will make room for some- 
 thing that is higher. 
 
BAIN.] TUB PIIAUISEE ASD THE PUBLICAN. 2G7 
 
 XVII. 
 THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 
 
 BY THE TwEV. THOMAS RAIN, M. A., HUTTON. 
 
 " Two men went np into the temple to pray ; tLe one a Pharisee, 
 and the other a puhlican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with 
 himself: God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are, extor- 
 tioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in 
 the week, I give tithes of all that I possess. And the publican, 
 standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, 
 but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. 
 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the 
 other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he 
 that humbleth himself shall be exalted." — Luke xviii, 10-14. 
 
 However much the numerous sects of Christendom are 
 divided as to their ideas of Christ's nature, they are all 
 agreed in looking on him as a great religious teacher. That 
 He made it his mission to put mankind right on the great- 
 est subject that can occupy their thoughts is what no school 
 of Christians will deny. It is when we come to consider 
 the way He took of doing this that our sectarian differ- 
 ences appear ; and possibly these differences are more owing 
 to our mode of studying his life than to inherent difficul- 
 ties in the life itself. Were we to become more historical 
 in our method, and less theological, the religious unity of 
 Christendom might attain to other than it is at jiresent — a 
 pious wish. 
 
 But, leaving this question aside, I Avant you to start with 
 
268 TEE PRAEISEE AND TEE PUBLICAN, [sermon xvii. 
 
 me from the idea that is common to us all, Christ a religious 
 teacher, and to observe the remarkable attitude — the star- 
 tling and original attitude — which, as such, He took up. He 
 
 ^ set himself in deadly antagonism to the official religion of 
 the age in which He lived. From a religious point of view, 
 and speaking broadly, the community in Palestine was 
 at that time divisible into two well-marked sections : the 
 Scribes and Pharisees — the church-goers ; the publicans and 
 sinners — the lapsed masses. It was pretty much then as 
 now : the respectable classes were suiTounded by a seething 
 mass of people whose lawless lives, or whose alien blood or 
 faith, had outlawed them from society. There was the 
 traditional party, and the party in rebellion against tradi- 
 tion ; the former in a state of death-like rigidity, the latter 
 in a state of moral chaos — for their rebellion had been dic- 
 tated less by princijDle than by wild and lawless appetite. 
 
 } The Saviour had to choose which of these great sections, 
 the conventional or the lawless, He would most sympathize 
 with, and the instincts of his nature led him toward the 
 latter. It is not among the robed gentlemen about the tem- 
 ple that He goes to seek his coadjutors, and it is not in his 
 talks with Pharisees that He becomes sweet and tender ; but, 
 when He would surround himself with friends, He calls to 
 him laboring men, and, when his nature warms and softens, 
 it is among simple-minded villagers. Simon Peter and 
 Andrew the fishermen, not Caiaphas the High Priest, are 
 chosen to be his helpers. It is for these poor ones that He 
 feels affinity, and not for the venerable dignitary. The 
 stains of labor would be upon their rough garments, and 
 labor's narrow thoughts would be in their souls ; they would 
 be homely-mannered people as well as obtuse-minded and 
 hard-handed. For manual toil is a poor inspirer of intel- 
 lectual life, and the craft of fishing reacts in this respect no 
 better than its neighbors. Our fishing villages at home are 
 not distinguished among laboring communities for mental 
 
RAm.J TEE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 3(39 
 
 brightness. Yet Peter, with his mind in a state of nature, 
 and clothed in his rusty garment, was deemed a preferable 
 companion to the pompously-robed Priest. So thought the 
 Lord. 
 
 ; Therefore, when the Saviour would draw a religious 
 hero, it is the ecclesiastically outcast class from which He 
 takes him. He has given us a model of humble piety in 
 the person of a Publican, and a model of true neighborli- 
 ness in that of a Samaritan, while he who got from him the 
 credit of greatest faith was a Roman soldier. More than 
 this, the infamous person whom, with the instinct of an 
 artist. He introduces to bring into relief his hero's virtues, 
 is taken from the ecclesiastics ; so that beside the good Sa- 
 maritan there stands the pitiless priest, and the canting 
 Pharisee stands over against the Publican. What means 
 the like of this but a pointed rebuke of priestcraft, and a 
 clear announcement that ingenuous paganism is better ? It 
 is honor sho^wTi to whom the world had deemed dishonor- 
 able, and reproach poured on those it had exalted ; and 
 once we have observed it we cease to wonder at the twenty- 
 third chapter of Matthew, or at the tragedy on Calvary. 
 
 /■ It comes home to us that the Lord had chosen traditionalism 
 to be his special enemy ; of all the evils in the world He 
 would put down it first, and there could be no bandying of 
 soft words between them. , 
 
 ' Now, the attitude assumed by Jesus toward the ecclesi- 
 astics on the one hand, and the ecclesiastically outcast on 
 the other, colors his outward career more deeply than any 
 other fact of it. It never v/holly disappears, and is con- 
 stantly coming into prominence. It determines the evolu- 
 tion of the most important scenes and incidents ; so that to 
 study Christ apart from it would be like studying Luther 
 apart from Indulgences, or writing a life of Wilberforce 
 
 ;, with the Slavery Question left out. Our Lord's hatred of 
 Pharisaism is about the notablest fact in his history, and we 
 
270 T^^ PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, [sermon xvii. 
 
 may assure ourselves that the feeling was no accident, but 
 a necessary outcome of the nature He possessed. That 
 which exhibits itself again and again in a man's life is not 
 the creature of circumstances, but corresponds to some truth 
 of his moral being. The explanation of it has to be sought 
 for within, and, intelligently regarded, it becomes a valu- 
 able clew to character. Do you want to find out how this 
 or that individual is inwardly constituted — note carefully 
 the facts that come up oftenest in his life, and the sayings 
 that are oftenest on his tongue. The principle of these 
 deeds and sayings is at one with the individual's deepest 
 nature. Hence, if we would gain a right understanding of 
 Christianity, we should fix our minds on the events that are 
 most prominent in its Founder's history, for through per- 
 cej^tion of the moral character of these our first real insight 
 into Christian truth is gained. On the threshold of our re- 
 ligious studies there is nothing we should give more heed 
 to than that antagonism between our Lord and the priest- 
 hood of which the evangelists say so much. We should 
 lend our minds thoroughly to it, and look searchingly at it 
 in all its aspects, should question and cross-question it, pray 
 over it, Jacob-like wrestle with it, and refuse to let it go till 
 we win from it its secret. And it will be well if we see so 
 clearly into the great principles underlying it, that we shall 
 be able to transfer these to our own time, and apply them 
 as a test to the religious phenomena around us. How 
 would the present ecclesiastical life of Scotland, nay, of 
 Christendom at large, look in our eyes if we had in our 
 hearts the same hatred of the merely outward, the formal 
 and traditional, as dwelt in Jesus ? There are few questions 
 we can ask ourselves that are so worthy of consideration. 
 
 Then, having noticed our Lord's attitude relative to 
 the Pharisees, it would be a great gain if we could find 
 out what instinct prompted him to assume it. How came 
 it that He turned angrily away from the law-revering, or- 
 
EAiN.] THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 271 
 
 dinance-keeping people, and joined himself to the God-for- 
 getting multitude — called God-forgetting by the churches ? 
 I think it was owing to an instinct which we find animat- 
 ing all who in this world have shown themselves truly- 
 great ; and as an ingredient in Christ's character we must 
 not value it less, that> it is found among ordinary men. I 
 allude to the attractiveness, the irresistible charm which 
 things vital and real possess for deep souls, and the corre- 
 sponding avei'sion they feel toward the artificial. Give 
 us life, breathing reality, is their sincere and constant cry. 
 That a thing be in the order of nature and throbbing with 
 nature's wondrous vitality is to them the first condition of 
 its loveliness. No matter that it look outwardly insignifi- 
 cant, or lie low in the scale of being — if it be joined in liv- 
 ing relationship to the mighty whole, it touches the chords 
 of their sympathy and they are interested. But the arbi- 
 trary and conventional is a hideous specter they can not 
 away with ; and the impulsive bad man is less intolerable 
 than the ceremonially just one. They can look with more 
 calmness on the errors of genius than on the excellences of 
 the soulless imitator. Again and again this sort of men 
 has appeared in worn-out degenerate ages, and then it has 
 been their privilege to lead the world back to truthfulness 
 of life. We find the pages of history full of them, and 
 they are particularly prominent at the great turning-points 
 of progress. When there was nothing but devotion to the 
 outward, and all art and literature, as well as religious wor- 
 ship, were a mere imitation of what had once been, it has 
 been the glory of these men to appeal to the inward voices. 
 What their souls told them they would believe and do. 
 The thoughts and feelings that had grown up in the depth 
 of their being were dearer to them than traditions, and they 
 would put these into their poems and pictures, and into their 
 sacrifices to God. For guiding rule they trusted absolutely 
 to the law within, and did their work with a joyous strength. 
 
272 y^^ PHABISEE AED THE PUBLICAN, [sermon xvii. 
 
 heedless of the outcry raised against them that " use and 
 wont" was outraged. Through their lives and teaching, 
 society has again and again been brought back to sincerity 
 of view, and to a perception of the unending worth that 
 lies in reality. Among all peoples where the human mind 
 has left a lasting trace of itself, these Luther-like souls are 
 to be found, and all are alike in their scorn of the conven- 
 tional, and their craving for God and nature's truth. That 
 an individual be wholly himself, speaking and acting out 
 the life that is within him, whether it be of base passion or 
 of spiritual reason, is what they constantly demand. Bet- 
 ter a loving, erring Magdalen, than ninety-and-nine fault- 
 less formalists. Such is their animating principle, and fur- 
 ther analysis of them can not be offered here. There are 
 depths in their natures to which analysis can not reach. 
 Instead of explaining them, it will be wise for us to real- 
 ize how thoroughly their principle bears rule over their 
 minds, the scorn it wakens in them for every kind of wax- 
 work, and the leaping up of heart it causes toward all 
 ebullient life. So realizing, we shall get to understand 
 them in the only real way in which it is given to one man 
 to understand another, by participation in a common feel- 
 ing through the law of sympathy. Then from their words 
 and ways a glory will flash out upon us which we never 
 saw before ; and such a key to our Lord's history will be 
 put into our hands as no theology, new or old, critical or 
 apologetic, could supply. Why He hated priests and for- 
 malists, and why the human nature that was cast out and 
 tossed about, and that was stained with foul passion, and 
 knew want and loneliness, was dear to him, as He was dear 
 to it — shall all be made plain. His love for the compas- 
 sionate Samaritan and the broken-hearted harlot's love for 
 him shall have their mystery solved. 
 
 The parable chosen for treatment affords a striking illus- 
 tration of the principle I have described, and there can be 
 
EAiN.] THE PHAEISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 273 
 
 no doubt that the principle was, consciously or unconscious- 
 ly, in the mind of Christ at the time He spoke it. But it 
 was not purposely to illustrate this principle that the parable 
 was framed ; but rather, I think, to expose a special error 
 into which Pharisaism is ever prone to fall. That concep- 
 tion of religious duty which represents it as something out- 
 ward and finite is here held up to scorn. 
 
 Two men went up into the temple to pray, the one a 
 Pharisee and the other a Publican. It was to the same 
 place they went to worship, but we can hardly imagine them 
 urged thither by the same motive ; for the one is pictured 
 to us as professionally a pious man, the other as outwardly 
 a sinner. So that in the one case the impelling agent would 
 be a deliberately framed rule or custom, some shred of sa- 
 cerdotalism, while probably in the other it would be a de- 
 votional thought that had risen in the soul. The Publican 
 did not presumably recognize those outward laws which 
 ecclesiasticism had framed to regulate the religious life, and 
 he had no particular hour or number of times a day for 
 paying vows, but, when the prayerful mood came, then he 
 prayed. In this respect he stood further from the church 
 than the Pharisee did, but nearer to nature, and nearer 
 probably to God. For the devout exercise of the spirit is a 
 too delicate operation to be successfully regulated by laws 
 coming from without ; and in giving utterance to its piety 
 we will do well to let the soul be a law unto itself, employ- 
 ing devout words and attitudes only when there is the de- 
 vout feeling. Sometimes, of course, nay, many a time, the 
 outward form of worship, when decorously observed, may 
 wake to life the inner spirit, and what began a mere sound- 
 ing brass and tinkling cymbal may end a great reality. But 
 the deep soul that feels sure of itself, in which devout im- 
 pulses spring up naturally, like flowers in a sunny place, con- 
 temns the binding of its piety to priestly times and seasons. 
 It is its own lawgiver, and makes times and seasons for itself. 
 
374 THE PIIAFJSEE AND THE PUBLiCAN. [sermon xvu. 
 
 We usually regard this parable as the authoritative com- 
 mendation of humility and warning against self -righteous- 
 ness, and jDass on satisfied with our interpretation. But this 
 superficial exegesis does not tell us what it is needful we 
 should know : where lies the root of the two feelings here 
 set in opposition. Whence cometh self -righteousness ? and 
 whence cometh humility ? are most important questions in 
 the psychology of religion, and the right answer to them 
 forms a center of light by which cognate problems can be 
 better viewed. Let us analyze, then, the spiritual condition 
 of the two men here depicted in the attitude of prayer, and 
 find out if possible the essential difference between them. 
 What made the one feel satisfied with himself, and what 
 bowed the other to the earth with shame and self-reproach ? 
 To say the reason lies in this — that they were both sinners 
 by nature, inheritors of Adam's guilt, but while the one re- 
 membered this circumstance and was sorry for it, the other 
 quite forgot it and felt no sorrow — is to adopt an explana- 
 tion which is no explanation. For the vital truth of the 
 parable is not hereby brought to view. And we must get 
 off this ground altogether if we would learn the great lesson 
 which Christ would teach us by his simple story. A con- 
 sciousness of original guilt in the one man, and the absence 
 of this consciousness in the other, had nothing to do with 
 the marked cotitrast that is in their prayers. Rather this 
 contrast was occasioned by the different standards of duty 
 by which they had been measuring themselves, and toward 
 which in their condnct they had been striving. That em- 
 ployed by the Pharisee had been provided by his church, 
 was an ecclesiastical measuring-rod, so to speak, and had 
 been in use for centuries. The ideal it raised before his 
 mind was this : to give away a tenth of his income, to keep 
 appointed fasts, to pray so many times a week, and do other 
 like formalities. I would observe regarding these ceremo- 
 nies that they awaken no thought of the infinite, and there 
 
RAIN.] THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 275 
 
 is nothing about tliem that a person of methodical temper 
 could not easily accomplish. They are very clearly defined, 
 and have a distinct beginning— an end; so that he who 
 trusted to their covering the whole field of duty would not 
 have his soul vexed by the sense of aught unattained. Where 
 there is a compact little theory of right conduct, you do 
 not meet with vague aspiration. Righteousness is some- 
 thing fixed and external, and needs only for its practice such 
 orderly habits as we see exemplified by successful men of 
 business. And if this Pharisee, as is likely, was an unim- 
 passioned man, and possessed a talent for living by rule, 
 what should hinder him from keeping the ordinances per- 
 fectly ? For they could all be observed without any spirit- 
 ual movement taking place within him. And once they 
 were observed, when the several attitudes had been gone 
 through, there was nothing left him but to thank God that 
 he was not as other men. He had no intuition of any other 
 obligation than those included in his church's directory, so 
 that no feeling of misgiving, no sense of unattainment, 
 would raise bitterness in his heart. The field of duty was 
 measurable, finite, well fenced in, and it lay clear befoi-e 
 him, not a hollow or corner in it but he could see ; he culti- 
 vated the whole of it every day, and bore thankfulness in 
 his heart for his ceremonial virtue. 
 
 I must say this was a fearful idea to have had of duty, 
 the most real and unfathomable thing that mankind can be 
 conscious of, and which by the spiritually-minded has been 
 constantly set forth as an object for deepest reverence. And 
 it was held not by this or that private individual, but by a 
 powerful institution which controlled the religion of a whole 
 people. Such religious instruction as is shadowed forth by 
 the Pharisee's prayer was that given to orthodox Jews in 
 the age of the Saviour ; and, when we reflect on the nature 
 of it, we cease to Avonder at the end its professors have come 
 to. We cease to wonder that Judaism should have failed 
 
276 THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, [seemon xvii. 
 
 as a principle of national existence, and that its bigoted ad- 
 herents to-day are wanderers without a country. For here 
 is that sublime verity called duty, which in its integrity 
 eludes our subtilest analysis, whose form is ever changing, 
 and which in its essence is infinite as God himself, briskly 
 identified with half a dozen ceremonies, and lying on men's 
 minds as lightly as the taking of their meals. Truly tra- 
 ditionalism brings human nature to strange passes of imbe- 
 cility, and colors history with a grim, unconscious humor. 
 No wonder that Christ could not away with Pharisaism. 
 On the other hand, the standard used by the Publican 
 ' for measuring his conduct was no object that we can define. 
 Duty to him, so far as it had been consciously conceived at 
 all, meant infinite attainment, and, laid in the balance against 
 it, his holiest actions seemed less than nothing. What could 
 he do but feel sad over his little life when comparing it with 
 the high thought of what life should be that dwelt within 
 him ? For sadness steals into all our hearts when the infinite 
 in any of its forms rises visibly before us, and we measure 
 against it our finite strivings ; and I fancy this remorseful 
 Publican was in the same moral state as Kant was in, when 
 he contemjilated the starry heavens and the sense of right 
 and wrong in man ; as the writer of the eighth Psalm well 
 knew — of all the Psalms ; as is expressed in the third chap- 
 ter of Philippians, and as comes out in the spiritual concep- 
 tions of all deep-hearted men. To them duty is not this or 
 that finite obligation which can be put into a handy formula 
 and mechanically performed, like the digging of a garden 
 or the making of a spade, but is an immeasurable, indefin- 
 able ideal of good that overshadows and enchants them. 
 Moreover, it is a changeable ideal, and in every new age the 
 intellect under the inspiration of conscience has to create it 
 afresh. To the earnest-minded savage it is one thing, and 
 to the half -civilized man it is another. It should not be the 
 same thing to us as it was to oui* forefathers, and to those 
 
RAIN.] THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 277 
 
 who come after us it should be different still ; for it takes 
 this and the other form according to the historical position, 
 and to the culture, of the individual who conceived it. And 
 this ceaseless transformation of its outward vesture hinders 
 it from ever becoming the actual, and is the secret of its 
 beauty and its power. Once it ceases to change, and men 
 get familiar with it, and can see, as the Pharisee did, every 
 nook and corner of its nature, it is a sign that moral prog- 
 ress has stopped. The spirit has given place to the letter, 
 and there is an age of formalism. Instead of poets and 
 thinkers, we have commentators and learned men. But, 
 when spiritual life is in the soul, that infinite ideal we call 
 duty must necessarily change ; for spiritual life means prog- 
 ress, and when one form of the ideal has been realized a 
 more splendid form must instantly appear. It means death 
 to man in his heavenward career if he overtake the vision 
 he is pursuing. That must ever fly before him as the mi- 
 rage before the traveler in the desert. As the quality of his 
 virtue grows more refined it must grow more splendid in its 
 beauty, and, as the sunlight puts out the stars, must put out 
 by its. pure shining the glory of his deeds. For fate has 
 decreed that to the Christian-minded the ideal shall never 
 become real ; and it is the kindly decree of a stern mother 
 — stern, hut a mother. There is to be constant following 
 after, but never perfect attainment. And the reward prom- 
 ised is one with which all noble souls shall be well pleased 
 — the inward strength and loveliness that are bred of such 
 following. This is how we must account for these sad con- 
 fessions of unrest that so often have come out of earnest 
 hearts, and for the deep religious idea, old as man himself, 
 that likens life to a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage it truly is, 
 and in a moral sense as well as a material ; for we change 
 and progress not only from one bodily state to another — 
 from weakness to vigor, and then back to weakness again 
 — but if I am a living soul as well as healthy body I move 
 
278 THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, [sermon xvu. 
 
 forward through endless stages of spiritual beiiag. There 
 is a time when I believe and hope as a child, and a time 
 again when I put away — when God calls me to put away — 
 all childish things. Step after step we have to rise " on 
 stepping-stones of our dead selves to higher things " ; and 
 must valiantly cooperate with the stern, beautiful law which 
 raises the world, and by which the faith of to-day becomes 
 the superstition of to-morrow. There is a sense in which 
 we must die daily to the past that we may inherit fully the 
 riches of the present ; for he only lives deeply and truly 
 who lives in the spirit of his time, and moves forward as it 
 moves. But hard is it to do this ; hard is it to have every 
 organ of the soul awake and in a state of struggle, hard is 
 it to be ever leaving behind the old, some part of ourselves 
 that has grown effete, and to be constantly assimilating 
 fresh elements of being. 
 
 They are few who are equal to these things, and there- 
 fore, in the spiritual sense of the term, there are few that be 
 saved. "Strive to enter in at the strait gate, for wide is 
 the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, 
 and many there be which go in thereat : because strait is 
 the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, 
 and few there be that find it." Sad and true are these 
 words, and it must have raised sadness in the soul of Christ 
 to have had to speak them. 
 
 Now, it is among the progressive sort of people — the 
 ever-following, never-attaining sort — that we must class 
 this Publican of the parable. For he stands before us as 
 one in whose soul the principle of spiritual growth is visibly 
 at work, and who, wanting in a precise theory of duty, has 
 yet a pervading sense of its infinitude. And it is this sense 
 that fills him with feelings of remorse when, turning his 
 mind inward, he looks upon himself and asks what he is 
 and what he has accomplished. It is a living sense of the 
 infinite nature of religious duty, and of finite man's inability 
 
RAiN.J THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN. 279 
 
 ever to realize it, that is the inspirer of his prayer. Tech- 
 nically he knew less about that duty than the Pharisee did, 
 had no smart theory of its nature, and could not reduce it 
 to a precise number of ceremonies, but yet had God put an 
 instinct into his soul Avhich told him of its awful nature. 
 That instinct did far more for him than theological knowl- 
 edge could do for his self-righteous neighbor, for it kept 
 his piety fresh and living, and made it in the sight of 
 God a sweet-smelling savor. He had no logically arranged 
 scheme of religious doctrine, but the great principles of 
 religious life were within him, and worked within him no 
 less effectually that he could not have explained them. It 
 is not necessary that we understand the powers of the Spii'it 
 to make them potent, for the deepest processes of nature 
 and human life are long in action ere they appear in reflec- 
 tive consciousness. Holy men lived ages before there were 
 theologians, and there was the lovely garniture of earth 
 when there was no botany or physics. 
 
 Let us see the explanation of the parable to which we 
 have attained. It is simply this : That two opposite views 
 of life and duty are put forward by it, and that one of them 
 is a principle of incessant aspiration, what we call life eter- 
 nal, while the other is a stationary principle, producing self- 
 satisfaction and moral death. According to the one view, 
 the things we ought to believe and the things we ought to 
 do can be brought to the clearest consciousness and em- 
 bodied in unchanging formularies. So literally finite are 
 they that human logic can circumscribe them by a precise 
 definition, and human practical endeavor fulfill their ut- 
 most demands. We can see the beginning and the end 
 of them, know their exact number, separate them from 
 things secular, and observe who performs them and 
 who performs them not. They are such things as these : 
 The adhering to a dogma, the keeping of a Sabbath, 
 the paying of a tithe, the mumbling over the altar of a 
 
280 THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, [seemon xvii. 
 
 set style of ritual — this is the Pharisaic conception of re- 
 ligion. 
 
 A very different one is suggested by reflection on the 
 Publican and his prayer. It is a conception which presents 
 truth and goodness as an ideal that is the same in no two 
 stages of our spiritual development or growth in grace. As 
 we change and ascend it changes and ascends too, and we 
 can as little overtake it as the steed racing westward at 
 morning can overtake his shadow. But it charms us after 
 it with a power that is irresistible. We can not choose but 
 follow on its radiant track. The sight of its splendor sick- 
 ens us with ourselves and prompts us to the bitter cry, 
 " Lord, be merciful to me a sinner," yet we can not help 
 gazing after it with longing heart. Though to behold its 
 shadowy form take away from us all hope of that mental 
 settling down which is so pleasant — which is the heaven 
 of many churches and whose opposite is their hell — and 
 turn us into the Paul-like state of not having already at- 
 tained, we will not cease from our dream of duty. For 
 such a dream is native to the Christian soul. It is what the 
 living soul always sees when, looking upward, it asks that 
 ancient question, " What must I do to be saved ? " It sees 
 not finite doctrines which it must believe, and finite ordi-- 
 nances which it must perform, but an unspeakable image of 
 the ideally true and fair lifted far above it, as the heavens 
 are above the earth. This is what the praying Publican 
 saw ; hence his self-reproach, and hence too his greater 
 nearness to God than the Pharisee's. But of course if it be 
 not the eternal soul that looks upward, but only some theo- 
 logically trained understanding, the image seen is of a very 
 different order. 
 
SEMPLE.J ETERNAL LIFE. 281 
 
 XVIII. 
 ETEKKAL LIFE. 
 
 BY THE RET. ADAM EEMPLE, B. D., HUNTLY, 
 
 " And this is life eternal, that they might know thee, the only 
 true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." — John xvii, 3. 
 
 The phrase " eternal life " conveys to many minds the 
 idea of unlimited duration of existence. It strikes them 
 first and chiefly as a life that will never end, but will con- 
 tinue unbroken, after all that they have been accustomed 
 to regard as most stable and enduring has ceased to exist. 
 The element of duration is not unfrequently regarded as the 
 most prominent element of eternal life. And this promi- 
 nence may be due to the contrast which the phrase " eter- 
 nal life " presents to the period of man's visible life, and 
 the answer it furnishes to the wail that has been echoed in 
 all ages, that human life is too short for human work — that 
 it is but as a shadow, a span, a tale that is told. The trees 
 whose blossoms delighted our infant eyes remain unchanged 
 when our eyes are dimmed by years ; the sea, which ripples 
 its music in our ears, has sung the same notes in the ears of 
 a thousand generations ; men come and men go, but the 
 world seems to remain for ever the same. When, therefore, 
 we hear of an " eternal life," we naturally think of one in 
 which all this is changed — where it is the duration of the 
 world that is short and transient, the life of man that is en- 
 during and perpetual. We think of man, as the possessor 
 of eternal life, surviving when the trees have withered and 
 
282 ETERNAL LIFE. [sehmon xviii. 
 
 the sea is silent, even when — if that shall ever he — the 
 whole material creation has been blotted out of existence. 
 
 But that this is not the meaning of eternal life, that in- 
 finite duration is not its most important element. Scripture 
 makes plain to us. For it is there described as a state of 
 unmingled bliss, of unalloyed joy — as that which is of all 
 things most desirable by man. Now, the mere prolongation 
 of life is not by itself a thing to be desired. Bare life is 
 not necessarily a blessing. We can easily imagine cases 
 in which death is better than life ; circumstances which 
 cause a man to pray for death as earnestly as ever captive 
 sighed for liberty. There, for instance, is a soldier who has 
 fallen into the hands of his enemies, and men high in office 
 whisper to him that great rewards will be his, and picture 
 the brilliant career that will be opened to him, if only he 
 betray his country ; but indignantly he turns from them 
 with the words, " Death rather than dishonor ! " Or, again, 
 ask him on whom hopeless disease has fastened if he would 
 have this life of his made everlasting, and he will cry out 
 in his agony, " Nay, rather let me die." No, life is not 
 necessarily a boon, and an eternity of life might be the bit- 
 terest curse that ever lighted on man. Give to one, whose 
 heart has become so dulled to the influence of virtue that 
 goodness is seen by him but as a fading shadow, and felt by 
 him as the perfume of flowers which he can never pluck — 
 give to such a man a lease of life which will never end, and 
 you have given him eternal life indeed, but an eternity that 
 might gladly be exchanged for annihilation. An eternity 
 of pain and woe is equally enduring with that of perfect 
 happiness, and each is an eternal " life." If, then. Scripture 
 represents eternal life as that which is of all things most 
 desirable, and if, as we have seen, the simple duration of 
 life may be of all things the most undesirable, it follows 
 that mere duration is by no means the main element — nor 
 in any sense a characteristic element — of eternal life. The 
 
 \ 
 
saiiPLE.] ETERNAL LIFE. 283 
 
 phrase can have reference only to a state or condition of the 
 soul. That this state lasts for ever is true ; but that is also 
 true of many other things, and can not therefore enter into 
 our consideration of the true nature of eternal life. The 
 question we have to answer is not, How long does this state 
 last ? but What is the state which is thus perpetuated ? 
 
 The answer is furnished by the words of our text, which 
 makes no reference to duration. When we speak of eternal 
 life, we mean simply the knowledge of the only tx'ue God, 
 and of Jesus Christ whom He has sent. What, then, is 
 meant by such knowledge ? 
 
 Now, of all knowledge, whether of things sacred or pro- 
 fane, there are two kinds — a false and a true. The false is 
 that in which the facts which are known remain always 
 apart from the knowing mind, as things which we can look 
 at and reason about, but which no more form part of our- 
 selves than the stone we hold in our hand. We possess 
 such knowledge in the same sense as a casket contains its 
 jewels : the jewels are valuable, no doubt, but the casket is 
 none the better for them. We may admire the stores of 
 knowledge which some learned man displays, but if he iden- 
 tifies himself in no way with his knowledge — if it remains, 
 as it were, something foreign to him — we feel that the man 
 is little the better for all he knoAvs ; that, indeed, he no 
 more truly possesses knowledge than the book does from 
 which he drew his stores. But there is another kind of 
 knowledge, where what we know enters into the soul, in- 
 corporates itself with our nature, and breathes its influence 
 through our whole life. The facts remain no longer cold 
 and dead, but become living principles, vivifying and trans- 
 forming the soul which possesses them. The jewel-box be- 
 comes itself a jewel. Such knowledge is to the soul what 
 the sap is to the tree. The juices which the roots draw 
 from the earth are very different from the tree ; but by 
 some wonderful transmuting power, and through mysteri- 
 
284 ETEENAL LIFE. [sermon xvni, 
 
 ous processes, those juices, so different at first, finally be- 
 come wood and blossom and fruit, so that we may truly say 
 the sap and the tree are one. So, too, the soul draws from 
 many sources the knowledge by which it grows ; but, be- 
 fore that can be said to be truly known, it must be so worked 
 up and transmuted — so assimilated to the nature of mind — 
 that the soul which knows and the facts which are known 
 become in a sense one and the same. If, then, what we 
 truly know becomes part of ourselves, our knowledge will 
 be best tested by the extent to which we act and live it. 
 True knowledge and life can never be separated. 
 
 This relation might be traced in all spheres of knowl- 
 ledge, though there are some in which it is more patent 
 than in others. A man may know, for instance, all that 
 geology teaches, and yet be little the better for it, but it 
 might be shown that even here true knowledge has an in- 
 fluence on life. Let us take, however, a more obvious ex- 
 ample. A great revolution has occurred in the history of 
 a nation, and you are able to recount the acts which roused 
 the indignation of the people, you can name the leaders of 
 the movement, give the dates of the battles which were 
 fought, and recite the terms of the treaty that closed the 
 movement ; but in all this you may be no better than the 
 book which taught you these details. You may be only a 
 handbook of history that has somehow found a tongue. To 
 know the movement truly, you must be able to go back in 
 thought to the buried past and touch it again into life, you 
 must feel the great heart of the nation throbbing in your 
 own, must realize the ferment of wrath which roused the 
 slumbering energies of the people, and follow them in their 
 career of struggle, as if you too were living and acting with 
 them — in a word, you must live in thought what you know. 
 But there are other cases where this must be done and is 
 done in actual life ; perhaps the most striking of which — 
 and one which throws considerable light on the meaning of 
 
SEMPLE.] ETERNAL LIFE. 285 
 
 our text— is furnished by the poetic mind. When the sense 
 of beauty, for instance, steals over the sculptor's soul, it 
 becomes to him the very breath of life ; it takes possession 
 of him and rules his whole nature, and forces him to give 
 it outward expression in the living marble. When fair 
 thoughts, again, kindle the poet's imagination, it is no 
 longer he but they who live ; they dominate every faculty, 
 they rule his soul like a new will, and he too must utter 
 them forth in burning words. As the lyre, through which 
 the wind is sweeping, can not but breathe out melodious 
 sounds, so the poet or the painter, over whose soul pass 
 thoughts of beauty, must body them forth in visible form. 
 Now, it seems to me that moral and spiritual truths act in 
 the same way as the creations of genius. A man may, in- 
 deed, know the moral law in the same way as he knows 
 the constitution of the earth or the distance of the fixed 
 stars, and it may have as little effect on his heart as on the 
 tables of stone on which it first was graven ; but let him 
 truly know that law, and he will, with the same necessity 
 as the poet writes or the sculptor carves, give it outward 
 visible expression in the form of a beautiful life. The true 
 knowledge of the moral law can never remain dead and 
 inert ; it must transmute the soul into its own likeness, be- 
 come, as it were, a new will, expressing itself in holy desires 
 and loving words and tender acts. 
 
 These illustrations may serve to explain what is meant 
 by " knowing " God. There is a false knowledge by which 
 God is known as the dread and infinite Being, dwelling in 
 mysterious glory far away in the clouds, possessed of mar- 
 velous attributes, which we discuss and analyze and arrange 
 in logical order, but having no more vital connection with 
 our hearts and souls than the lifeless corpse with the anato- 
 mist who dissects it. Such knowledge is but ignorance of 
 God, What the knowledge of the moral law is to the spir- 
 itual man, what the forms of beauty are to the genius, that 
 
286 ETEBNAL LIFE. [sermon xviii. 
 
 the knowledge of God is to the devout mind. As we truly 
 know the evil of lying only when we refuse to lie, as we 
 know the moral law when we act the moral law, so we 
 know God only when we live the Divine life, when we re- 
 produce on earth in our dim human way the glorious per- 
 fections which constitute heaven. So, too, like the inspira- 
 tion of the poet, the knowledge of God breathes into the 
 soul new energies, becomes the very life and will of the man 
 who possesses it, and compels him to express his knowledge 
 in living act, and body forth in his own life the human like- 
 ness of the life of God. God is love ; and when we learn 
 to know that love in all its depth and intensity, when we 
 recognize its massive projDortions in the guidance of the 
 world's history, and feel its all-embracing tenderness in 
 every episode of our own lives, we can not but render back 
 to God the love He has lavished on us. The knowledge of 
 God's love begets the Divine love in the human heart. God, 
 again, is jjerfect holiness ; and when we learn to know that 
 holiness in Christ, attracted as we gaze by the faultless 
 beauty of the picture, pervaded by the subtile influence it 
 breathes forth, " we are changed into the same image from 
 glory to glory." What God is in love, in purity, in holi- 
 ness, man in a measure also becomes. When the knowledge 
 of these infinite qualities enters into the human mind, and 
 so becomes part of man's natui-e, they can not remain dead 
 and barren, for they are living principles, and exist only so 
 far as they are carried into action. Just as the sunlight 
 which the plant absorbs is not for ever lost, but comes forth 
 again in the tender-tinted flowers, so the perfections of 
 God, which through knowledge penetrate the soul, appear 
 again in action, and lend a Divine beauty and sweetness to 
 human life. 
 
 This is also the idea contained in the second part of the 
 verse. Eternal life consists not onlv in the knowledge of 
 the only true God, but also of Jesus Christ whom lie has 
 
BEMPLE.] ETERNAL LIFE. 287 
 
 sent. What, we Lave to ask, is meant by "knowing" 
 Christ ? Is it enough that w^e are able to tell all the mar- 
 vels that attended his birth, to go through all the incidents 
 of his strange life, to recount his miracles, and repeat his 
 parables ? No, truly : these are not Christ, but the vest- 
 ments which may even conceal him from us. The mere 
 facts of Christ's life may be known as facts by the atheist 
 and the hypocrite as accurately as by the most spiritually- 
 minded of men, but the life of Christ — the Man himself — 
 lies deeper than his words and acts. We must penetrate 
 beneath the surface to the moving spirit, and come into 
 living contact with the heart and mind, which prompted 
 the actions. What avails our knowledge of Christ's miracles, 
 if we feel not the tenderness and love which speak in them 
 and prompted them ? Are we the better or wiser for our abil- 
 ity to detail all the mysterious agonies of Calvary, and yet 
 be untouched by the spirit of self-sacrifice which breathes 
 through them ? What to us are Christ's kindly acts and 
 tender words, if our hearts be cold to the human sympathy 
 "which lies beneath them ? Not by familiarity with the rec- 
 ord of Christ's outward life, not by the knowledge of what 
 is patent to the eye, but by communion with the inward 
 life — that communion which imbues us with the living Spirit 
 — docs Christ become known to men. The mind which was 
 in Christ must be in us — we must be able in some measure 
 to make our own that tenderness and love, that purity and 
 self-sacrifice, which distinguished him. If we can not die 
 as He did for our fellow-men ; if we can not by a word 
 make suffering cease ; if we can not bid the guilt of sin 
 depart, there are still many ways in which we can be 
 Christ-like. We can at least live for our fellow-men, and 
 so doing breathe that spirit of self-sacrifice which produced 
 its noblest fruit in the death of Christ ; we can at least 
 make suffering less, and soften the pains of disease ; we can 
 at least show the sinner the vileuess of his folly, and lead 
 
288 ETERNAL LIFE. [sermon xviii. 
 
 him to that Love which will say, " Thy sins are forgiven 
 thee." The coining of Christ did not make the sin and sor- 
 row and suffering of the world vanish — his work will still 
 be carried on by those in whom He lives, when each in his 
 sphere labors, by active work or patient example, to leave 
 the world better than he found it. And only when we thus 
 are " laborers together with God," when we take up in our 
 feeble way and according to our opportunities the work 
 which Christ himself began — when our hearts throb, though 
 faintly, with the same feelings as stirred the breast of Jesus, 
 and we are re-living (but yet, how far off !) the life which 
 long ago He led on earth — only then have we attained that 
 state of purity, of love, of self-sacrifice, which is implied in 
 the knowledge of him whom God has sent. To know Christ 
 is, if we dare say it, to he Christ. 
 
 From the language of the text, thus explained, two con- 
 sequences seem to follow. 
 
 In the first place, eternal life — or, as it is sometimes 
 called, the Kingdom of God, or the Kingdom of Heaven — 
 is a state of the soul, and not any outwai'd glory. Our 
 ideas of the eternal kingdom are drawn chiefly from the 
 brilliant descriptions of the Apocalypse. But when once 
 we understand that eternal life is knowledge — a property 
 only of the soul — these splendid descriptions cease to be 
 literal, as incompatible with the nature of a truly spiritual 
 religion. Not in crowns and palms and snowy robes, not 
 in golden streets and thrones, does the truest heaven of the 
 Christian consist, but in the knowledge of God and Christ, 
 in the possession by the human spirit of the qualities that 
 distinguish our Redeemer. " The kingdom of God," says 
 St. Paul, " is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost." When the Spirit of God meets the spirit of man, 
 and from the contact the light of God leaps up in the hu- 
 man heart, softening it into sympathy with all distress, 
 purifying it into the love of holiness and the horror of sin, 
 
SEMPLK.] 
 
 ETERNAL LIFE. 289 
 
 and leading it into the path of the perfect life, then has that 
 soul become the possessor of eternal life, an inhabitant of 
 the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 In the second place, it seems to follow that eternal life 
 is a present as well as a fitture state. Too often is it re- 
 garded as the reward of a life of active virtue, as the far-off 
 hope which stimulates the fainting heart to " patient con- 
 tinuance in well-doing " ; too often is it supposed that only 
 when the battle is over and the victory won, shall we pass 
 beneath the dark gateway of death into the bright peace of 
 the heavenly kingdom. But, on the other hand, the herald 
 of Christ came with the cry, " The kingdom of heaven is at 
 hand," a cry which Christ himself confirmed by proclaiming 
 to his hearers, " The kingdom of God is come unto you." 
 Eternal life, then, is not set before the world as the prize of 
 patient purity, the reward of long-continued well-doing, or 
 the stimulus to incite men to a life of holiness. It is not a 
 glory which only after death will crown the successful en- 
 deavors of the faithful ; but it is the purity, the well-doing, 
 the holiness itself. It is the knowledge of God and Christ, 
 with all the spiritual virtues which attend it— knowledge 
 which, if the rational nature of man be no delusion, may be 
 ours now— virtues which, if the life of Christ have any sig- 
 nificance, if his blessed example and exhortations have any 
 meaning for us, may adorn our present earthly life. Doubt- 
 less, as the years roll on, that knowledge will become fuller 
 and clearer, the purity deeper and stronger, and the holiness 
 more perfect ; but not even in the most distant age of 
 eternity can these graces be different in kind from what 
 they are now. The tree may spread abroad its increasing 
 branches, may clothe itself in thicker foliage and bring 
 forth sweeter fruit, but it does not thereby become a dif- 
 ferent tree ; and so, to whatever perfection we may in the 
 future attain, the life which will blossom there is a life 
 which has its roots here, and has already borne its fruit on 
 13 
 
 I 
 
290 ETERNAL LIFE. [seemon xtui. 
 
 this side the grave. We weary ourselves with vainly won- 
 dering lohere the kingdom of heaven is — whether in this 
 world of ours, or in some fair realm beyond the skies ; 
 while the important question for us, and the one that settles 
 all minor matters for us, is, ^ohat the kingdom of heaven 
 really is. If it be a spiritual kingdom, then wherever and 
 whenever a soul is found which is leal and loyal to Christ, 
 which in loving humility has given up its petty willful free- 
 dom for the higher freedom of the light of God, which 
 seeks for purity and righteousness as the only atmosphere 
 in which it can truly live, and goes forth in deeds of love 
 and self-sacrifice, there and then — whether in this life or 
 the life to come — the kingdom of heaven is. 
 
STEVENSON.] RELIGION-THEOLOG Y-ECCLESIASTICISM. 291 
 
 XIX. 
 
 EELIGION-TIIEOLOGY-ECCLESIASTICISM. 
 
 BY THE REV. JOUN STEVENSON, GLAMIS, FORFARSHIRE. 
 
 " Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after 
 me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and foUow me."— 
 Matt, xvi, 24. 
 
 " And no man putteth new wine into old bottles ; else the new 
 wine will burst the bottles, and be spilled, and the bottles shall 
 perish. But new wine must be put into new bottles; and both 
 are preserved." — Luke v, 37, 38. 
 
 " And when he was demanded of the Pharisees, when the king- 
 dom of God should come, he answered them and said. The kingdom 
 of God cometh not with observation : neither shall they say, Lo 
 here ! or, lo there ! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." 
 — Luke xvii, 20, 21. 
 
 " If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, 
 and take up his cross, and follow me." 
 
 These words were spoken by our Lord, when lie first be- 
 gan definitely to prepare the minds of his disciples for the 
 humiliation, and suffering, and death, which lay before him. 
 The conception of a suffering Messiah was so alien to the 
 thought of his time, that it became needful to prepare the 
 minds of his immediate followers for receiving the Divine 
 idea of self-sacrifice, which lie was to reveal in his suffer- 
 ings and death. "From that time forth began Jesus to 
 show unto his disciples, how that He must go unto Jerusa- 
 lem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests 
 and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third 
 
292 RELIGION— THEOLOGY— ECCLESIASTICISM. [sermon xix. 
 
 day." One of them, with characteristic impulsiveness, re- 
 pudiated the idea ; and Jesus, reading at once the earthly- 
 thoughts which prompted the remonstrance of Peter, laid 
 down the indispensable condition of spiritual life, the Di- 
 vine law of self-sacrifice : " If any man will come after me, 
 let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 
 For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it ; and whoso- 
 ever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it." 
 
 " No man putteth new wine into old bottles ; else the 
 new wine will burst the bottles, and be spilled, and the bot- 
 tles shall perish. But new wine must be put into new bot- 
 tles ; and both are preserved." 
 
 No open conflict had as yet taken place between Christ 
 and the Jewish Rabbis ; but it must have been becoming 
 more apparent how impossible it was that there could be 
 any alliance between his teaching and theirs. Questions 
 had arisen about the disciples of John fasting, and about 
 prayer. Our Lord had silently ignored the one, and had 
 prescribed no formal rules for the other, and his disciples 
 were perplexed. In answer to their inquiries. He pointed 
 out to them that spiritual teaching such as his could never 
 be limited by the rigid forms and mechanical rules to which 
 they were accustomed. With all his grand enthusiasm, and 
 noble sense of the spiritual reform which was needed for the 
 coming of Christ, John had tried the hopeless task of patch- 
 ing up the old garment of Judaism. But it was worn out, 
 and the attempt to repair it only made the rent worse. Our 
 Lord, therefore, at once took up the ground that the old 
 system of the Jewish theocracy was useless for him — that 
 it could no more preserve the Divine revelation of Christi- 
 anity, than old and worn-out skins could preserve new and 
 fermenting wine. " New wine must be put into new bot- 
 tles," New and higher forms were needed for the doctrine 
 which He came to teach. 
 
STEVENSON. J BELIGIOX— TIIEOL G Y—ECCLESIASTICISM. 993 
 
 " When He was demanded of the Pharisees when the 
 kingdom of God should come, He answered them, and said, 
 The kingdom of God cometh not with observation : neither 
 shall they say, Lo here ! or, lo there ! for, behold the king- 
 dom of God is within you." 
 
 The hostility of the Jewish Rabbis had become more 
 l^ronounced, and their attacks more virulent. With the de- 
 sire of ensnaring and convicting him, some of the Pharisees 
 put a question to our Lord about the coming of the king- 
 dom of God. These Pharisees were the ecclesiastics of 
 their time. They busied themselves with the externals of 
 religion — with external institutions, and forms and ceremo- 
 nies. Many of them, like all men in error, were better than 
 their creed ; but the essential nature of the Pharisaism with 
 which our Lord had to deal was a formal and dead ecclesi- 
 asticism. He knew that this lay at the root of their ques- 
 tion, and therefore he told them that the kingdom of God 
 would never come, as they expected, " with observation," 
 with outward pomp and ceremony. They were looking for 
 political revolution, and, as part of a restored Jewish em- 
 pire, the establishment of a great visible church, in which 
 they should be advanced to preeminence and power. Jesus 
 told them that such a kingdom would never come, that it 
 was a dream and a delusion of their own. He told them fur- 
 ther that his spiritual kingdom, which was to hold its sway 
 in the hearts of men, was already in the midst of them — 
 that, as it was to come without observation, they could not 
 point to any outward signs of its approach, either in the 
 political or ecclesiastical worlds, so as to say, Lo, here it is ! 
 or, Lo there ! for, behold, at the very time you are looking 
 for such signs of its coming, it is already silently making 
 its way in the midst of you. 
 
 These sayings of our Lord involve principles which are 
 peculiarly applicable to Christian thought, and to the de 
 
294 BELIGION— THEOLOGY— ECCLESIASTICISM. [sermon xix. 
 
 velopment of Christian life, in our own day. The growth 
 of religious education, from age to age, implies an ever-in- 
 creasing demand for a clear apprehension of the vital prin- 
 ciples which underlie it, and for the intelligent application 
 of these principles to the circumstances which must, in 
 greater or less degree, hinder or advance it. But especially 
 is this the case in every age of well-marked transition like 
 the present. When the historian of the future seeks to 
 trace the development of religious life in the nineteenth 
 century, he will find it no easy task to discover its vital 
 elements amid the antagonisms of doctrinal belief, and the 
 conflicts of ecclesiastical power. Old theological beliefs are 
 crumbling around us. Old ecclesiastical systems are falling 
 into pieces. And the religion of Christianity has, unfortu- 
 nately, been so identified with creeds and churches, that it 
 will be a hard task to trace the process of their disintegra- 
 tion, and to separate the essential elements of its life from 
 their ruins. 
 
 It becomes especially important, in such circumstances, 
 to realize the truth that religion is in no sense dependent 
 upon any special phases of doctrinal belief, or upon any 
 peculiar forms of ecclesiastical institutions. The distinct 
 recognition of this position is necessary for the right appre- 
 hension of many of the questions which are trying the 
 minds, and for a just estimate of many of the difticulties 
 which are perplexing the hearts of serious and earnest men. 
 It is with the view of getting hold of this truth, and of 
 keeping clearly in view the relations in which our Lord 
 always placed religion, theology, and ecclesiasticism, that I 
 have brought these passages together. Special applications 
 are beyond my present purpose. 
 
 The sphere of religion is spiritual ; the sphere of the- 
 ology is intellectual ; the sphere of ecclesiasticism is politi- 
 cal ; and however these sj)heres may run into each other in 
 
STEVENSON.] RELIGION— THEOLOGY— ECGLESIASTICISM. 295 
 
 the way of influence — and in this sense it is neither desir- 
 able nor possible to separate them — Ave must keep clearly 
 in view that it is fatal to real life and progress in religion 
 to identify with it, or to substitute for it, either the one or 
 the other. 
 
 I. The sphere of religion is spiritual. There is a higher 
 sphere investing alike the life of sense and of intellect, a 
 sphere in which Avhat we call our spiritual life alone can 
 find quickening and energy. The capacity for this spiritual 
 life, which consists in Divine righteousness, purity, and 
 love, is indestructible. However it has been marred and 
 blighted by sin, it has never been extinguished. Its quick- 
 ening conies from a Divine Spirit within us, and nothing 
 outside of the spiritual sphere can originate it. To live in 
 this higher sphere, and to be in sympathy with the Divine 
 Spirit which pervades it, is to be religious. 
 
 From such a standpoint we advance to degrees of re- 
 ligious life. We become religious, in greater or less degree, 
 as our spirits are quickened into higher life by contact with 
 the Divine Spirit, as we intelligently realize this quicken- 
 ing, and as we intelligently put forth into action the en- 
 ergy, or vital force, which it imparts. Now, in whatever 
 form the energy of this spiritual life may find its issue, it 
 must operate for the Divine healing of a sinful life ; and 
 it does so through self-sacrifice. The distinctive feature of 
 the Christian religion, on its practical side, is the redeeming 
 power of self-sacrifice. The cross of Calvary, as the con- 
 centrated expression of that power, is the central principle 
 of Christianity : "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men 
 unto me." To accept and to live in the spirit of self-sacri- 
 fice is to be Christian. " If any man will come after me, 
 let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." 
 This, we venture to think, will be conceded by most men, 
 however they may differ when they come to deal with 
 
296 liELIGION— THEOLOGY— ECCLESIASTICISM. [sekmon xix. 
 
 questions of Christian theology, which arise when they pass 
 to the dogmatic treatment of the subject. 
 
 All our Lord's teaching gathered around this conception 
 of the higher Divine life, which is quickened within us, 
 going forth in the saving power of self-sacrifice ; and, 
 where all other religions have failed, the Christian religion 
 has proved itself to be the power of God for salvation. It 
 lifts human nature out of its vileness, and purifies it with 
 the beauty of holiness. It lifts us above all the coarseness 
 and selfishness of the worldly life, " crucifying the flesh 
 with the affections and lusts." It overcomes every evil 
 passion by which our hearts are debased, and ennobles us 
 with every Divine virtue. It calls us forth out of darkness 
 into light. In proportion as we live in the spirit of Christ's 
 self-sacrifice, we grow into the life of God, which is no self- 
 life, but a life of self -giving for the welfare of all his crea- 
 tures. In proportion as self is crucified in us, and as our 
 spiritual faculties are trained and disciplined by self-renun- 
 ciation, light breaks in upon the mysteries of life, and we 
 understand " the deep things of God." The true test of 
 religion, therefore, is the vicarious love which the Divine 
 Spirit awakens in us — the love which "seeketh not her 
 own," but he good of others, the love which is ready 
 always to sacrifice self for the well-being of others. It is 
 Christ's own test. " By this shall all men know that ye 
 are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." "He 
 that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he 
 love God whom he hath not seen ? " But let the love of a 
 brother be true, and the love of God is there. " If we 
 love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is per- 
 fected in us." 
 
 The right recognition of the spiritual sphere of religion, 
 as altogether independent of theological systems or ecclesi- 
 astical relations, and of the nature of the spiritual forces 
 which are at work within us, lies at the root of the solu- 
 
STEVENSON.] EELIGION-TIIEOLOGY-ECCLESIASTICISM. 297 
 
 tion of many of tbc social problems, which have become so 
 perplexing under the complications of modern civilization. 
 The self -sacrifice of Christianity is undoubtedly the most 
 powerful weapon for social reform. Nothing, for instance, 
 strikes a thoughtful observer of modern social life with 
 deeper pain, or awakens greater apprehension of danger to 
 our whole social fabric, than the antagonism between the 
 different classes which compose it. The struggle between 
 capital and labor, which has been going on for years among 
 us, might be cited as an example of such antagonism. It 
 is incident to a more complex civilization, but it is one of 
 those questions with which no principles of political econ- 
 omy alone can ever deal effectively. It is only when such 
 commands as these — " Rejoice with them that do rejoice, 
 and weep with them that weep " ; and, " Bear ye one an- 
 other's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ"— have 
 come to be understood in a deeper meaning than has yet 
 been read in them, and practiced with a wider application 
 than has yet been given to them — only, in short, when it is 
 more deeply felt that true Christianity lies in self-sacrifice, 
 that class antagonism can be effectually removed, and the 
 problems which spring from it satisfactorily solved. In 
 proportion as we live in the spirit of self-sacrifice, we be- 
 come fellow-workers with Christ in redeeming the world to 
 God. 
 
 II. The sphere of theology is intellectual. Theology 
 is a science, and we must claim for it the same place in hu- 
 man reason, and the same rights of intellectual investiga- 
 tion, which any other science demands. It has no claim to 
 Divine authority such as the revelation of truth which 
 Christ has given has. It is, moreover, a progressive science. 
 Creeds are but the reflection of the thought of the ages 
 which give them birth. Take, for example, the doctrines 
 of the universal Fatherhood of God, and Brotherhood of 
 
298 RELIGION-THEOLOGY-ECCLESIASTICISM. [sermon xix. 
 
 Christ. These are the ideas of Christ, universal as all his 
 ideas were, but they were destined to be molded into nar- 
 rower forms by the imperialism of the age in Avhich thev 
 were promulgated. For many centuries they have kept 
 these forms. The conceptions of God, and of his relation 
 to Christ, and of our relations to God through Christ, which 
 have molded the theological views of men for centuries, 
 have been essentially imperial ; and they are still ruling the 
 minds of many who can not look beyond the historical as- 
 pects of their creed. It is only during the last quarter of a 
 century that the theological mind of Scotland has, to any 
 great extent, risen above this conception of Divine impe- 
 rialism ; but it is shaking off the fetters by which imperial 
 conceptions have sought to bind it, and it is no longer pos- 
 sible, in an age of searching inquiry and of wider aspiration 
 like the present, to put the new wine of awakened thought 
 about the universal ideas of Christ into the old bottles of 
 the historical ci'eeds. 
 
 We do not imply that the religion of Christianity and 
 the speculations of theology are to be dissociated, as if 
 religion could be dissociated from the highest intelligence 
 and culture. In this sense they are inseparable. Theology, 
 if it is reverent in its ideal, will awaken and foster religious 
 feeling ; and religion, if it is catholic, will lead up to a more 
 enlightened theology. But we must demand, in the inter- 
 ests of vital Christianity, that theology shall not be substi- 
 tuted for religion. It is here that confusion exists in many 
 minds, and that anxiety is awakened in many hearts. The 
 religion of Jesus Christ is identified with creeds, and when 
 creeds are criticised, or sought to be modified, it is imagined 
 the religion of Christianity is imperiled. But, as creeds 
 embody only the views of particular schools of theological 
 thought, and not the religion of Christ, they can in no sense 
 be regarded as tests of religious life, far less as commen- 
 surate with the Christianity of Christ. 
 
8TEVENS0N.] RELIGION— THEOLOGY^ECCLESIASTICISM. 299 
 
 For instance, the biologist holds that protoplasm is the 
 physical basis of life ; that " wherever there is life, from 
 its lowest to its highest manifestations, there is protoplasm, 
 and wherever there is protoplasm there too is life." The 
 theologian, if he has an intelligent grasp of the fundamental 
 facts of physical science, holds also that life is a property 
 of protoplasm. When they pass from the purely scientific 
 to the philosophical and theological aspects of the question, 
 and seek to determine the connection between life and 
 thought, and to account for their origin, they occupy wholly 
 diflFerent ground. 
 
 The biologist, if a materialist, may connect the vital 
 force of spiritual life, as he connects the vital force of in- 
 tellectual life, with the protoplasm of certain cerebral cells ; 
 but he no more denies the existence of the one than of the 
 other. He fails only in his explanation of its origin. It 
 becomes a lesser matter, that he denies the possibility of 
 its existence after the life of these cerebral cells has be- 
 come extinct. His denial is only intellectual error, and no 
 intellectual error can ever be fatal to spiritual life. He 
 may not be a Theist in the sense in which you are a Theist. 
 He may not accept, as you accept, the Christian doctrine of 
 immortality, but does he thereby cease to be religious ? 
 
 And, within the limits of what is understood more strictly 
 as Christian theology, the religion of Jesus Christ may be 
 equally in the hearts of men who hold the most widely 
 divergent views on the questions with which theology deals. 
 The dogmas, alike of the Trinitarian and of the Unitarian, 
 are not the test of whether these men are Christians, and 
 have the vital energy of spiritual life within them. Are 
 the spiritual wants of their nature dependent upon the so- 
 lution of the intellectual questions which separate them? 
 Is the satisfying of these spiritual wants to depend upon 
 their accepting, or rejecting, each the intellectual conclu- 
 sions of the other ? Are the Divine Fatherhood of God, 
 
300 RELIGION— THEOLOGY— ECCLESIASTICISM. [sermon xix. 
 
 and the human Brotherhood of Jesus of ISTazareth, to cease 
 to be spiritual realities to our hungering souls, and are we, 
 wandering prodigals and orphans of sin, to be kept away 
 from the love and forgiveness of the Father of reconcilia- 
 tion, because we are divided in opinion about some question 
 of dogma which we may never be able to comprehend in 
 this life ? This were indeed to give a stone for bread. 
 And, unfortunately, this is what theologians too often do. 
 We hear much about the increase of skepticism in our own 
 day, and irreligion is spoken of as the natural result. They 
 are in no sense necessarily connected. What is commonly 
 called skepticism is simply a reaction in minds which have 
 outgrown the conceptions of the older theologies — a reac- 
 tion which is sometimes impatient, often profoundly sad — 
 and theologians, in their blindness, dread, and suspect, and 
 condemn it. It is not thus that they can help it ; not thus 
 that they can satisfy the intellectual craving which excites 
 it ; not thus that they can meet the spiritual aspirations 
 which are the deepest sources of its unrest. While scien- 
 tific theology must necessarily be the study only of the few, 
 there are the many who can not be at peace till their intel- 
 lects are satisfied ; and it is the wisdom of the theologian 
 to provide them with intellectual conclusions, which are as 
 broad as the conceptions of Jesus Christ. Modem skepti- 
 cism is in some aspects a healthy sign. While it is true 
 that a creed of mere negations has not the same power to 
 nourish spiritual life as belief which is positive, if, at the 
 same time, it is reverent, and tolerant, and humble, there is 
 often far more of living thought and of real progress in the 
 divine life, in what theologians condemn as skepticism, than 
 can possibly exist in belief which claims to have exhausted 
 revelation, and to have attained the sum of all truth. 
 Skepticism in belief is hostile to religion, alone when it 
 degenerates into indifference, or becomes the ally of im- 
 morality. We are living, as I have said, in an age of well- 
 
BTEVENSON.J nELlGIOy-TIlEOLOG Y-ECCLESIASTICISM. 301 
 
 marked transition, when it is of vital importance to keep 
 this in view : tliat whatever intellectual antagonisms in the 
 sphere of theology may arise to darken our path, and what- 
 ever intellectual conclusions we may reach in regard to 
 questions of dogma, the fruits of the Spirit are these : 
 " love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, 
 faith, meekness, temperance." 
 
 III. The sphere of ccclesiasticism is political. Religion 
 is not to be identified with any ecclesiastical institutions, 
 or limited by any ecclesiastical forms. " The kingdom of 
 God cometh not with observation." It has no extei*nal 
 constitution, or organization of forms. We can not, there- 
 fore, identify it with Churches, or with any ecclesiastical 
 machinery, so as to say, Lo, here it is ! or Lo, there ! 
 When men talk of the ideal of the Church, they speak of 
 a state of spiritual perfection which we are reaching after, 
 but can never attain in this world. The Church, in the 
 common acceptation of the term, is an external institution, 
 made up of a multiplicity of imperfect organizations ; and 
 no ecclesiastical form, or multiplicity of forms, can embody 
 the kingdom of God, any more than a creed, or combina- 
 tion of creeds, can embody Divine truth. At the very 
 moment when men are identifying vital Christianity with 
 individual Churches, the kingdom of God is silently and 
 surely asserting its supremacy independently of all forms 
 of ecclesiastical life. 
 
 In saying this we do not undervalue Churches as socie- 
 ties of Christian men. They are necessary, in some form, 
 as the exponents of Christian action, just as creeds are the 
 necessary result of Christian thought ; but to substitute 
 the one for the other, in either case, is to mistake the form 
 for the substance, and to accept the letter which killeth for 
 the spirit which givcth life. 
 
 In all the vexed ecclesiastical questions which are try- 
 
302 BELIGION- TEEOLOG T-ECCLESIASTICISM. [sermoii xix . 
 
 ing men's minds at the present day — such, for example, as 
 the connection between Church and State, a question promi- 
 nent, and destined to become more prominent, in Scotland ; 
 or the limits of Ritualism, a question of the deepest grav- 
 ity in the Church of England — it is of vital importance to 
 keep in view that these are questions of mere polity. 
 Whether Ave regard the connection between Church and 
 State as essential, or non-essential, to the health and vigor 
 of national religious life, we should remember that the 
 kingdom of God is not to be limited by connection with 
 any Church. Then, a great visible Church, a Church great 
 in ecclesiastical machinery and means of worldly power, 
 grand in ceremonial and gorgeous in ritual, may, nay does, 
 do a great deal of good in its own way ; but vital religion 
 is in no sense dependent upon these things. Churches 
 serve to advance the kingdom of God in proportion as they 
 are living and growing in the spirit of Jesus Christ, but 
 they may be only hindrances to the progress of that king- 
 dom. Indeed, the Church, no less than the world, has 
 often hindered the coming of the kingdom of God, by set- 
 ting up some little kingdom of her own in its place ; and 
 the more surely the true kingdom comes, the more surely 
 the influence of eternal righteousness and purity and love 
 is felt among us, the more surely will all the little king- 
 doms of the Church, as she now exists, be swept away. 
 We are no nearer to the solution of the question, " What 
 is the Church of the future ? " — a question to which each 
 section of the Church is too often blinded by the nearer 
 and narrower one, " What is the future of our Church ? " — 
 I say, we are no nearer to the solution of the question, 
 "What is the Church of the future?" in any sense in 
 which a solution of it is desirable, till we come to realize it, 
 that the kingdom of God is a far vaster kingdom than any 
 Church, or any multiplicity of Churches, can embrace. 
 What wonder that amid all the ecclesiastical battles of 
 
STEVENSON.] RELlGION-TIlEOLOGY-hCCLESIASTICISM. 303 
 
 Cburches, reformed and unreformed, orthodox and hetero- 
 dox, higli and low, evangelical and non-evangelical, men of 
 earnest thought and life grow wearied at heart, and become 
 more and more disposed to cast all Churches aside, and to 
 say, " The kingdom of God is a far more living thing to 
 me than I can find it to be in any of your Churches." Nor 
 should it be forgotten that there is no more deadly enemy 
 to the progress of vital religion than the spirit of mere 
 ecclcsiasticism. It can not sec beyond its own sect, and 
 the dogmas of its own creed. Bigotry, intolerance, and 
 the worst spirit of controversy seem to be inherent in it. 
 All history teaches us the same lesson : that there are no 
 views more contracted, no hatreds more intense, no disputes 
 more bitter, no controversies more uncompromising, than 
 those which have been cherished and carried on by eccle- 
 siastics, in the name of religion and of Christianity. 
 
 With such views of our Loi'd's teaching in regard to 
 the relations of religion, theology, and ecclcsiasticism, we 
 would plead for greater catholicity of spirit. 
 
 If a man claims to be catholic, he is too often pro- 
 nounced " broad church," " latitudinarian," " a freethinker," 
 or characterized by some similar term, meant to be a bad 
 name. It is profoundly saddening often to find men, who 
 seem to be large-hearted, manifesting a spirit of narrow- 
 ness, and exclusiveness, and intolerance whenever creeds or 
 Churches come into question. Nothing can be further re- 
 moved from the mind of Christ than such a spirit. He had 
 tolerance for all types of religious character and thought, 
 of religious belief and worship — all types of religious char- 
 acter : the " Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile," 
 and the young ruler who "went away sorrowful because 
 he had great possessions " — all types of religious thought : 
 the calm, contemplative mind of Mary, sitting at his feet in 
 rapt confidence, and the intellectual skepticism of Thomas, 
 
304 HELlGION-TIlEOLOGY-ECCLESIASTICmM. [sermok xix. 
 
 because, deep below bis refusal to believe witbout a sign, 
 tbere was bonest doubt and perplexity — all types of reli- 
 gious belief : tbe Sadducee witb bis unspiritual creed, as 
 well as tbe earnest believer in bimself as tbe Son of God — 
 all types of religious worsbip : tbe true worsbiper, wbetber 
 at Jerusalem or Gerizim — tbe worsbip of tbe beart, bow- 
 ever feeble its ligbt, or fantastic its form. 
 
 We would, tberefore, plead for greater catbolicity in 
 tbeology. As creeds are only tbe reflection of tbe tbougbt 
 of tbe ages wbicb give tliera birtb, we sbould be ready to 
 modify and cbange tbera witb tbe growtb of tbeological 
 tbougbt, and witb tbe advancement of scientific discovery. 
 Cbristianity bas notbing to fear, but mucb to gain, from 
 free bistorical criticism, and from tbe ligbt of scientific 
 researcb. If, tberefore, men wbo are dealing witb tbe 
 deepest problems of buman life and destiny, and are searcb- 
 ing for Divine trutb witb an earnestness and reverence 
 befitting tbe profound questions wbicb perplex tbem — if 
 scientific men, wbo are devoting tbeir lives to fatbom tbe 
 mysteries of creation, and to elucidate tbe eternal and im- 
 mutable laws wbicb govern tbe universe — if pbilantbro- 
 j)ists, wbo are laboring witb self-sacrificing devotion for 
 tbe amelioration of tbe evils wbicb burden bumanity, can 
 not accept tbe special forms of Cbristian tbeology wbicb 
 you present to tbem, refrain from stamping tbem as skep- 
 tics and unbelievers. And, if men wbo bave received tbe 
 same creed can not regard some of its special dogmas in tbe 
 same ligbt in wbicb you regard tbem, refrain from suspi- 
 cion, and intolerance, and persecution. Let us believe tbat 
 catbolicity of spirit is a greater virtue tban ortbodoxy of 
 belief, and tbat tolerance for all buman differences is more 
 precious tban zeal for personal convictions. Let us be- 
 lieve tbat, in views and systems of trutb wbicb differ most 
 widely from our own, tbere may be tbe same divine life 
 and bope ; and let us acknowledge and rejoice tbat tbe 
 
STEVENSON.] EELIGION-TIIEOLOG F-ECCLESIASTICISM. 305 
 
 outer form is nothing if it breathes the spirit and the 
 
 life. 
 
 We would plead, also, for greater catholicity of spirit 
 in the Churches. The spirit of sectarianism has eaten deep 
 into the heart of religion in Scotland. Nowhere else per- 
 haps can we find, at least to the same extent, the melan- 
 choly spectacle of such a multiplicity of Churches, pro- 
 fessing to be animated by the love of God, yet so deeply 
 estranged from each other, professing to desire the common 
 good, yet undermining each other so systematically in their 
 efforts to promote it. It is inevitable that sects shall exist. 
 The union of which many good men dream, which would 
 seek to obliterate sects, would produce, not Christian unity, 
 but only a dead uniformity. It is the spirit of ecclesiasti- 
 cism, not of difference, that we have to strive against in 
 the Churches. It is the spirit which can see what is right 
 only in what is its own that we have to deprecate and 
 deplore. In proportion, and only in proportion, as the 
 Churches realize the religion of Christianity in self-sacri- 
 fice, will intolerance, division, persecution, and strife, give 
 place to large-hearteduess, unity, concord, and peace. 
 
306 UmXY. [SEKMON XX. 
 
 XX. 
 UNITY. 
 
 BT THE REV, 
 
 "That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in 
 thee." — Jonu xvii, 21. 
 
 " Ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." — 
 Gal. iii, 28. 
 
 Christiais" Unity is a subject about wliicli it is much 
 easier to feel than to speak. It is so highly spiritual a 
 thing that it is difficult to convey ideas about it through 
 the coarse medium of words. It is so broad and compre- 
 hensive a thing that it is impossible to avoid those seem- 
 ing contradictions which arise when we turn to look first 
 at one side of it and then at another. Yet in its essence 
 Christian Unity is a very simple thing — a thing which, 
 however alien to the atmosphere of theological and eccle- 
 siastical debate, is known, in its nature at least, by every 
 meek and childlike spirit. 
 
 In the broadest sense it may be said that every discov- 
 ery of truth, whether in physical science, philosophy, or re- 
 ligion, is a contribution to an ever-growing knowledge of 
 the nature of that Unity which God is — a revelation of the 
 nature of Unity as that exists perfectly in God. In the 
 full sense God is One — rounded — whole — complete. It is 
 therefore as men grow in knowledge of what God is, that 
 their knowledge increases of what unity is ; and it is as 
 they become liker God that unity is realized in them, 
 whether as individuals or as a race. 
 
PATRICK STEVENSOK.] UNITY. gQiJ- 
 
 On its spiritual side, this is the definition of unity in the 
 motto from the fourth Gospel which is prefixed to this ser- 
 mon. The prayer there ascribed to Jesus is a prayer for 
 Unity. But it is more than that. It is a definition of 
 the nature of the Oneness asked for. In whatever ways 
 God was in Christ, in whatever ways Christ was in God, 
 these are the ways in which men can be truly one — one 
 with each other, with Christ, and with God. That we 
 fall short as yet of this Oneness in degree need not and 
 does not prevent our having it in part ; and, if we would 
 have more of it, Ave will attain it as we have in us more of 
 the mind that is in him. 
 
 St. Paul's central thought about the Christian Church 
 was the personal relation of each believer to Christ, brought 
 about by the exercise of what he calls "Faith." Whatever 
 the apostle's views may have been as to the bearing of 
 Christ's Avork upon God's relations to men — and this point 
 we are not now called upon to discuss — he always meant by 
 the terra Faith that in the exercise of which each soul en- 
 ters for itself into spiritual fellowship Avith Jesus — partakes 
 of the Holy Spirit as the principle of a new life — realizes 
 itself as a spiritual child of God, and as already in part a 
 sharer of God's nature. It is true that St. Paul limits the 
 idea of the Christian Church to those in whom this fellow- 
 ship with Christ Avas found. But, on the other hand, that 
 fellowship being found, the member of the Christian Church 
 may have been Jew or Gentile, bond or free. He teaches 
 that, irrespective of nationality, previous religious connec- 
 tion, social condition, or preferences of form, all in whom 
 this fellowship of spirit exists are, in virtue thereof, one 
 with Christ and one with each other. He teaches that the 
 Christian Church is necessarily and inherently, up to the 
 measure of this fellowship, a unity. lie teaches that only 
 in so far as the Church ceases to be Christian can it cease 
 to be One. In the being made to drink into the "one 
 
308 UNITY. [SEKMON XX. 
 
 spirit " of Jesus consisted the unity of the Church of his 
 day. Therein lay the unity, and that not as a thing future 
 but as a thing present — not as an ornament to be added, at 
 some indefinitely future period, to an otherwise finished 
 temple of God, but as the first and most immediate conse- 
 quence of the founding of that temple in Christ — not as a 
 blossom or flower destined to be only the last and crowning 
 beauty of the tree which God had planted, but as the very 
 first leaf which the life, quickened in the seed, had pro- 
 duced — as a thing therefore to be realized as having come — 
 as essential, indeed, to the existence of the Christian Church 
 at all — as a thing inherent in the nature of Christianity — 
 apart from which it must cease to be Christianity. St. 
 Paul teaches that in virtue of the common faith in Christ 
 — because of the reference Avithin each Christian's soul of 
 the self -same spirit of holiness — all her members are in this 
 sense sons and daughters of one God, brethren and sisters 
 of one Saviour and of each other ; the Christian Church is 
 in all her members, and throughout all her branches, essen- 
 tially, inherently, from the very nature of her central and 
 animating principle, a unity. 
 
 Why, then, it may be asked, do we hear so much in our 
 own time, and among those who profess to agree with the 
 sentiments of Christ and St. Paul, about the necessity for 
 bringing about unity in the Christian Church — and why 
 are so many schemes propounded for the purpose of attain- 
 ing it ? 
 
 Chiefly, I believe, because members of the several 
 branches of the Christian Church have largely forgotten 
 three simple truths : 
 
 1, That unity is a thing which comes with the indwell- 
 ing of the Spii-it of God — with spiritual fellowship with 
 Jesus Christ — so that, wherever that spiritual indwelling 
 and fellowship is not, no schemes which have theological 
 and ecclesiastical sameness as their end can do aught to 
 
PATRICK STEVENSON.] UNITY. 309 
 
 bring it about ; so that, on the other hand, where that spir- 
 itual indwelling and fellowship exists, such schemes can do 
 little other than endanger men's estimate of its importance. 
 
 2. That the authority upon which spiritual truth must 
 ultimately rest is its own intrinsic light. 
 
 3. That in consequence, not of the instability or change- 
 ableness of that truth, but of its vastness, unity must be 
 accompanied by, or rather must comprehend within itself, 
 almost endless doctrinal and sesthetical variety. 
 
 We live in days when it is worse than vain to imagine 
 that sameness, whether in thought or in government or in 
 worship, even supposing it attainable, can be any longer 
 mistaken for Christian unity. Intellectual power and spirit- 
 ual insight are being every day brought to bear with star- 
 tling force upon the sacred books, not only of Christianity, 
 but of the other religions of the world. Their historical 
 value is being again estimated, their internal truthfulness is 
 being again appraised, and their contents are being com- 
 pared, with a view to a relative measure of the value of 
 each as a moral guide of mankind. No power can stop this 
 process. Its results are as yet only very partially wrought 
 out. They have not yet been widely spread in any popular 
 religious literature. We have passed through a religious 
 revolution, and men are only beginning to know it. As, 
 howevei', that knowledge spreads, we must be prepared to 
 find more differences of opinion than exist at present, as to 
 what is fundamental in religion — as to how much of it is 
 common to at least the higher faiths of the world — as to 
 Avhat the sacred books are in themselves and in their rela- 
 tions to each other — as to their whole place and bearing, 
 whether in regard to doctrine, government, or ritual. These 
 are questions which can not be answered by any one age 
 for the ages that are to follow. They are asked afresh, and 
 afresh they must be answered, from time to time. Our own 
 is such a time, and, being so, the problem arises, " Is it 
 
810 UNITY. [SERIION XX. 
 
 possible to preserve and to increase Christian unity through- 
 out the changes that are sure to come ? " 
 
 To any one who has formed large and comprehensive 
 ideas of the nature of unity, the answer must be Yes. It is 
 Renan who has said that Christianity, " to renew itself, has 
 but to return to the Gospel." This is very specially true 
 of our time. What we need is to go back to the " sim- 
 plicity" that was in Christ. We have got spiritually 
 choked by a thick and murky atmosphere of creeds and 
 catechisms, and of ecclesiastical laws and forms. What we 
 need is to breathe again the air He breathed who was no 
 maker of dogma or of ritual — whose work was to call up in 
 humanity the spirit of the child, and to teach that the true 
 worship of God is that " in spirit and in truth." What we 
 need is to think of the Christian Church as St. Paul thought 
 of it — a corporation as far as possible removed from all 
 bondage to sameness, whether of thought or of form. 
 
 The body is not the less, it is all the more, a unity, that 
 its different members work in different ways for the main- 
 tenance of the common life and the doing of the common 
 work. " The whole complex organism," as it has been re- 
 cently put, " is a society of cells, in which every individual 
 cell possesses an independence — an autonomy. With this 
 autonomy of each element there is, at the same time, a sub- 
 ordination of each to the whole, thus establishing a unity 
 in the entire organism, and a concert and harmony between 
 all the phenomena of its life. . . . Then there devolves on 
 each cell, or group of cells, some special work which con- 
 tributes to the well-being of all, and their combined labors 
 secure the necessary conditions of life for every cell in the 
 community, and result in those complex and wonderful 
 phenomena which constitute the life of the higher organ- 
 isms." Thus does Science, pursued in a reverent spirit, re- 
 venge herself upon her accusers — repeating to us, in modern 
 scientific phrase, the teaching of St. Paul — enforcing upon 
 
PATRICE STEVEKSON.J U2^ITY. 311 
 
 US, by the revelation of nature, the teaching of our Lord 
 himself. One would think that he who runs might read 
 the lesson. It is passing strange and very sad to think 
 how few, even at this time of day, are able to do so. 
 
 Three great enemies to the realization of the truth that 
 wheresoever the spirit of Christ is there is unity are easily 
 detected. These are : the abuse of theology, the existence 
 of sacerdotalism or priestcraft, and the exaggeration of 
 ceremonial or ritual. To these we may add two others, as 
 being somewhat specially developed in our day — the one a 
 tendency, found in such as are wearied of the first and last 
 of these, to seek refuge in what of the past has proved most 
 permanent ; and the other a tendency, in such as are sick 
 of all three, to find what they think a haven of rest in one 
 form or another of scientific materialism or in agnosticism. 
 
 By the strongest class of minds all these dangers are 
 avoided. Agnosticism is dismissed as not only contrary to 
 experience, but as a contradiction in terms. We know — if 
 it be only in knowing that we do not know. Science is ad- 
 judged her proper sphere and function. Within it she is 
 left free play. All of truth that she is competent to learn, 
 nay, all of truth that belongs to the matter and to the en- 
 ergy which she investigates, is gladly welcomed, so far as 
 known, and will be gladly welcomed when further known, 
 welcomed as a revelation of a side of God. The test of 
 comparative value, in what claims to be spiritual truth, is 
 seen to be the intrinsic light that shines from what is put 
 forth as such. Its ultimate value is seen to be independent, 
 absolutely and relatively, of consensus, whether of few or 
 of many, and of the duration, short or long, of that consen- 
 sus. Ceremonial is seen to be valuable, but only as language 
 or symbol — a vehicle to convey or express religious opinion 
 or feeling. Sacerdotalism, whether Roman, Anglican, Prot- 
 estant, or Scientific, is simply sunk, ignored, passed by, and 
 refused. And Theology has her place and importance justly 
 
813 UNITY. r^ERMON XX. 
 
 defined. She is seen to be the ever-shifting outcome of 
 attempts to compass the Infinite by the feeble powers of 
 reason. Each and every one of these attempts is seen to 
 be more or less valuable. It is held to be more or less his- 
 torically intei'esting. It is noticed that each contains more 
 or less truth. It is marked that no one of them, nor all of 
 them together, contains it all. By such minds it is seen 
 that Christianity, as taught by Christ, is an attitude of the 
 human spirit toward God and toward man ; an attitude, the 
 existence of which no sameness of theological and scien- 
 tific opinion will necessarily bring about ; an attitude which 
 may exist along with almost any amount of scientific and 
 theological divergence ; an attitude which may be, and very 
 frequently is, present apart from theological and scientific 
 knowledge altogether. In Christ's own day Christianity 
 consisted simply in attachment to his person. In our day 
 it may be said to consist simply in attachment to his teach- 
 ing. The idea of a child and of a brother, as realized in 
 the picture which the Gospels present, that is Christianity ; 
 and unity is wherever that spirit is, and the extent of its 
 existence is the extent of the oneness ; and schism, the 
 opposite of Christian unity, is seen to begin, not where dif- 
 ference of opinion begins, or where preference in feeling 
 begins, but where badness and bigotry begin, where un- 
 charitableness begins, where distrust and selfishness begin. 
 As the human body ceases to be a unity, not when the hand 
 w^orks in one way and the eye in another, not when the feet 
 are used for movement and the head for the very different 
 function of thought, but when the eye says to the hand, " I 
 have no need of thee," and the hand to the feet, " I have no 
 need of you " ; so is the unity of Christianity broken, not 
 when theological creeds diverge, and ecclesiastical laws and 
 observances differ, and forms of worship vary, but when 
 individuals or sections of the Christian community make 
 their personal and sectional aims independent of the good 
 
PATRICK STEVENSON.] UNITY. 3J3 
 
 of the community as a whole, or cut themselves off in any 
 way from the fellowship of search after truth, and the help- 
 fulness of mutual sympathy and succor. 
 
 If, now, we turn for a moment to contemplate the actual 
 state of feeling around us about this matter, two closing 
 remarks may be made : 
 
 1. That unity, consisting, on its religious side, in the 
 presence of the spirit of Christ, wherever found — free play 
 being allowed for the intellect on questions of science, phi- 
 losophy, criticism of sacred books and theology — this ideal 
 is actually much more seen and aimed at than is apparent to 
 the superficial observer. 
 
 This country is sick at heart of doctrinal and ecclesias- 
 tical warfare, and of unreasoning abuse of Biblical, philo- 
 sophical, and scientific research. Laymen have practically 
 ceased — with exceptions, of course — to persecute because of 
 difference of opinion. And, when the mass of an army thus 
 steps aside from the battle, no noise nor spurring on the 
 part of the officers can long carry on the fight, though it 
 may blind many to the fact that the combat is really over. 
 In Scotland, at least, the victory is now on the side of free- 
 dom. Many contemporary circumstances conclusively de- 
 monstrate this. The questions for the future are these : 
 How is that freedom to be used with least risk of abuse ? 
 and, IIow is it to help the quickening of the religion and 
 morality of society ? 
 
 2. Since it is already vain, and will become increasingly 
 so, for Churches to seek to force thought and worship into 
 any fixed groves — since, in fact, uniformity, so long mis- 
 taken for unity, has been amply shown to be both shallow 
 and impossible — it would seem that unity may be best pro- 
 moted by endeavoring to bring the principles of the life of 
 Christ to bear upon the education everywhere of the Chris- 
 tian conscience. That the community should be a family, 
 saturated with family feelings, and practicing a family life, 
 
314 UNITY. [sermon XX, 
 
 is infinitely more of consequence than that all should think 
 precisely alike about the Father's character, ways, and pur- 
 poses, or help only such of the brothers and sisters as be- 
 long to the same class, or work at the same work. The old 
 grounds of social relationship are being broken up. The 
 old ways of expressing this relationship are being changed. 
 This is inevitable as the family enlarges, and as the demands 
 of a complex mechanism increase the difficulties of the so- 
 cial bond. Still, the relationship remains. Men, as men, 
 are brothers. Whatever their source, it is a common source. 
 Whatever their destiny, it is a common destiny. That the 
 family is large, and that more rooms of earth are being 
 filled, does not abolish mutual duty, or open any path to 
 freedom other than that of discharging mutual responsi- 
 bility. To quicken everywhere the filial and fraternal feel- 
 ings — to stimulate to that trust which steadies, and to that 
 bearing of one another's burdens which is the fulfilling of 
 the law of Christ — to promote the cultivation of reverence 
 for that which transcends us, the deepening and broadening 
 of sympathy for many-sided humanity, and the quickening 
 of active helpfulness — these have been always, it is true, the 
 aims of Christianity, wherever its nature has been rightly 
 understood ; but that they are its proper aims still is just 
 what society needs now to be retold. As this conviction 
 regains its hold, as the central law of the divine life, that 
 of self giving, is seen, welcomed, and followed each, as 
 he loseth his life, will practically find that he has therein 
 found it, and that he is contributing, in his place, to the 
 growth of that only Oneness which is large enough to 
 satisfy the cravings of the human sou). 
 
PATRICK STEVEKSON.] ETERNAL LIFE. 315 
 
 XXL 
 
 ETERNAL LIFE. 
 
 BY THE REV. PATRICK STEVENSON, INVERAEITT. 
 
 " This is life eternal, that they might know thee, tlie only true 
 God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." — John xvii, 3. 
 
 The notion of Eternal Life, it is here asserted, involves 
 more than the idea of eternal existence. Merely to exist, 
 either here or hereafter, is not necessarily a blessing in it- 
 self. What kind of existence, then, is for man's spirit — 
 and that whether in the body or out of the body — worthy 
 of the name of life ? 
 
 Answered shortly, and in Christian phraseology, that 
 kind of existence consists in knowledge of God and of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 There are many who, on scientific grounds, deny that 
 there is any Being higher than man, who also maintain that 
 man, the highest being of whom they have any knowledge, 
 is himself but an automaton, an expression of energy work- 
 ing through cells, his so-called consciousness only one form 
 of the outcome of molecular change. To such minds there 
 can be no moral right or wrong — no ideal to which we may 
 aspire, or from which we may fall — no possibility of learn- 
 ing from past success or failure — no futui'e, in the sense of 
 opportunity for spiritual growth — nothing, in short, but an 
 ever-changing mechanical present, over which we can ex- 
 ercise no control, which shifts continually through a few 
 short years, and ends for ever with the body's death. 
 
316 ETERNAL LIFE. [sermon xxi. 
 
 With those who think on this wise it is almost impos- 
 sible to argue. Your very arguments, they would say, no 
 less than the spiritual phenomena which you allege, are but 
 so many instances of our position. These are themselves 
 the outcome of the forces, the working of which you call 
 yourself. 
 
 It is refreshing, therefore, to find that by many a less 
 dogmatic and more rational position is being gradually 
 taken : that, namely, which, while welcoming every dis- 
 covery of physical Science, admits that there are ranges of 
 experience, not less real than are her facts, which she is 
 powerless to explain. To such minds Theism is at least not 
 an absurdity, nor a future existence an impossibility. To 
 such minds spiritual knowledge of a spiritual Being — and, 
 much more, spiritual sympathy with an historical Being — 
 are not without the range of possible experience. To them, 
 knowledge of God and of Christ is at least a perhaps. 
 
 But experience is one thing ; its explanation is another. 
 It may be possible, or it may be impossible, to explain it. 
 Still, accounted for or unaccountable, the experience re- 
 mains. Now, it may be safely said that the possession of a 
 si^iritual faculty is as true an experience to such as have 
 felt it as can be any other fact of their existence. And 
 millions of the human family have had, and millions still 
 have, that experience. They know that they know God, 
 imperfectly it is true, but still really. They know that they 
 know Christ, at a distance it is true, but still in actual sym- 
 pathy. It is to them as much a fact that they can hold 
 spiritual intercourse with One higher than themselves as 
 that they can hold every-day intercourse with their fellow- 
 men. That they can not explain every inner fact, any more 
 than they can explain every outside fact, is to them only 
 what might be expected. The facts, however, remain, in 
 their inner as in their outer life. These are the " seers," 
 the "prophets" of humanity. They have existed in all 
 
PATRICK STEVENSON.] ETERNAL LIFE. 31'j' 
 
 ages. Tliey still exist, and in their presence it is im})os- 
 sible to deny — name it how men may, explain it how they 
 can or can not — that there is such a thing as the " king- 
 dom of God." 
 
 Thinking of these three classes of minds, what are we to 
 say about the motto of this sermon ? It affirms two things 
 — that there is a state of soul which is eternal life, and that 
 that state is knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ. 
 
 For the last-mentioned class it is unnecessary to say 
 more. They know in their inner personal experience, bet- 
 ter far than any words can embody it, the meaning of the 
 text. 
 
 To the second-mentioned class of minds — those to whom 
 spiritual experience and a spiritual education, here and here- 
 after, are possibilities — and to the first class — those to whose 
 theory of the universe they are not so — we grant that no 
 such consciousness as belongs to the third class can be to 
 them transferred, or by them accepted, by any arbitrary act. 
 We can only appeal to the light that shines from such words 
 as those of the text, and say that, as another matter of ex- 
 perience, that light has broken in upon souls which for years 
 have been unable to see it ; and that, by all such, it has 
 been welcomed, when seen, as a spiritual reality. This be- 
 ing so, the words are at least worthy of regard, and their 
 meaning may claim the most earnest consideration on the 
 part of those to whom, as yet, that meaning has not come 
 as defining their own inner life. 
 
 The words mean that Jesus of Nazareth manifested 
 forth the character of God, and that — what that character 
 is — is life for the soul of man. They mean that the kind 
 of existence that is worth having is the kind of existence 
 which God has, and that, if we Avould know what kind of 
 existence that is upon its spiritual side, we will find the full- 
 est and highest revelation of it in the picture which the 
 Christian Scriptures present to us of the mind that was in 
 
318 ETERNAL LIFE. [sermon xxi. 
 
 Christ. They mean that personal and experimental knowl- 
 edge of God — that is, the degree in which any one has in 
 him the Divine Spirit — is, at any point of existence, the 
 measure of his spiritual life. 
 
 If this be granted, it matters little what phrase is 
 used to express the meaning. Say that God knows — then 
 knowledge is life, and ignorance is death for man. Say 
 that God loves — then love is life, and hatred is death 
 for man. Say that God is holy — then holiness is life, 
 and sin is death for man. Say that " in himthere is no 
 darkness at all " — then light is life, and its absence is 
 death for man. Go through the dictionary if you will. 
 Pick out any adjective which describes a feature in the 
 character of God. Then the degree in which that adjec- 
 tive describes my character is the degree in which my 
 spirit lives. Take its opposite. Then the degree in which 
 it is applicable to me is the measure of the remainder of 
 that " body of death " from which I am yet undelivered ; 
 and from which, till I am delivered, my spirit simply refuses 
 to be satisfied. " Gates of pearl and streets of gold ! " — 
 " Fire and brimstone ! " He who once realizes the nature 
 of the gulf which separates spiritual life from spiritual 
 death would refuse the first were they to risk his likeness to 
 God ; and he would welcome the second could they only 
 insure it. What else, then, tlian this lies at the root of such 
 eccentricities as monkish asceticism and the dogma of pur- 
 gatory ? So profound is the belief of humanity that whatever 
 else heaven and hell may be, and wherever else they may 
 be found, they are cognizable from time to tirfle, in strange 
 alternation, in the experience of the individual soul, as, on 
 the one hand, it suffers itself to be degraded, or, on the 
 other, to be raised in sympathy with what is noble and lov- 
 ing. In the former case it is the victim of a mysterious 
 unrest, in the latter it permits that peace to enter in, which, 
 however much it may surpass the understanding, comforts 
 
PATRICK STEVENSON.] ETERNAL LIFE. 329 
 
 and strengthens the spirit as naught else can, amid daily- 
 struggle and sorroAV, and paves the way for a quiet entrance 
 into rest. 
 
 The chief points in Christ's teaching on the subject of 
 the nature of Eternal Life may be more fully specified as 
 follows. He taught — 
 
 1. The nature of the Fatherhood of God. 
 
 2. The nature of spiritual Sonship. 
 
 3. The nature of Brotherhood. 
 
 4. The nature of Sacrifice. 
 
 Not one of these names was new to the world when 
 Christ appeared. Yet He made their meaning virtually 
 new, so much did He purify and exalt men's thoughts about 
 them. 
 
 That the infinite Author and Sustainer of the universe 
 cares for every creature of his hand ; that man owes to him 
 more than existence, and such powers as are necessary for 
 its maintenance ; that his reason is an offshoot of the Divine 
 intelligence, and that his soul is capable of understanding 
 and of appropriating the character of its Source ; that this 
 heavenly Father desires, working within the laws of na- 
 ture, mind, and spirit, to educate up to his likeness ; that 
 He is tender to that whei'ein we err, and just in all his 
 ways ; that his nature is such as to win our trust, and his 
 leading such as to reward our following ; that whether He 
 giveth, withholdeth, or taketh away, it is to our " profit," 
 that we may be "partakers of his holiness" — to know that 
 we have such a Father is life for the soul. 
 
 To accept his daily gifts with joy and thankfulness ; to 
 feel that reason is trustworthy in patient and humble exer- 
 cise ; to find our spirits rising to their Source, led upward 
 along the lines of God's o^ti thoughts ; to take our daily 
 office from his hand, as that which love has given us to do ; 
 to solve its perplexities by his guidance, to vanquish its 
 difficulties by his strength, to meet its seeming impossibili- 
 
320 ETERNAL LIFE. ' [sermon xxi. 
 
 ties in the might of " Not my will, but thine be done " ; to 
 be unintoxicated by life's gladness, and unconqiiered by its 
 darkness, mystery, and sorrow ; and, finally, amid the fail- 
 ing of all outward props and stays to say, "Father, into 
 thy hands I commend my spirit " — to experience such son- 
 ship is life for the soul. 
 
 While feeling, in their full force, the sympathies that 
 are born of natural relationship, of similar education, and 
 of circumstance, to let our affections travel out beyond 
 these smaller circles ; to love our fellow-men as men, as 
 children of a common Father, and sharers of the humanity 
 which Christ has glorified ; on a small or on a large scale, 
 as power and opportunity are given, to do good to others ; 
 to allow for weakness, temptation, and the force of circum- 
 stance in others ; to be kind to the evil and the unthank- 
 ful ; to forgive those who offend against us ; to " love " our 
 "enemies," to "bless them that curse" us, to "do good to 
 them that hate" us — this is to understand the greatness 
 which consists in ministry, and therein to know that broth- 
 erhood which, in proportion as we feel and practice it, is 
 recognized as life for the soul. 
 
 To have penetrated below the surface and the type to 
 the central reality of sacrifice — to the truths that sin is put 
 away by the sacrifice of self, and that evil is overcome of 
 good ; to know what it is to find life in losing it, and to 
 get in giving away — this is to feel that the Divine nature, 
 in its most glorious aspect, is being gradually implanted in 
 us. Self-denial is often praised as the loftiest virtue ; and 
 to many the cross itself is nothing higher than its fullest 
 example. Noble it is, unquestionably, " not to please our- 
 selves." But this merges into moral commonplace in the 
 full liorht of the life and death of Jesus. For him, not to 
 have given would have been self-denial. It would have 
 been worse. It would have been denial of himself. Of all 
 that He was, and all that He was able to do, and all that 
 
TATRICK STEVENSON.] ETERNAL LIFE. 321 
 
 He was able to suffer, He gave — not that He might therein 
 deny any lower desire, but that He might simply therein 
 satisfy the craving of his nature. He gave, simply because 
 He could not help it. To his Father He gave that inner 
 trust and following in which sonship consists. To all 
 around him He gave that many-sided sympathy, and that 
 help in all its manifold simplicities, wherein brotherhood 
 consists. And before the world, thus in living, and thus in 
 dying. He placed the embodiment of sacrifice, and the defi- 
 nition of that state of soul which is eternally a state of Life. 
 Be it ours to seek to repeat the story. It is as we suc- 
 ceed in doing so that we will come to feel more surely that 
 Life Eternal is already pulsing within us, however imper- 
 fectly ; and to trust more deeply that, not for our worthi- 
 ness, but of God's great mercy, that Life will be imparted 
 to us, on and on throughout the long-drawn future, more 
 and more abundantly. 
 
322 CEEISrS AUTHOBITY. Lseemon xxu. 
 
 XXII. 
 CHEIST'S AUTHORITY. 
 
 BY THE REV. R. H. STORY, D. D., RCSNEATH. 
 
 " Tell us, by what authority doest thou these things ? or who is 
 he that gave thee this authority ? " — Luke xx, 2. 
 
 This was a fair enough question on the part of the chief 
 priests and elders of the people. They were expected to 
 keep watch over what was taught, and to inquire into the 
 character and claims of any new teacher to whom the people 
 seemed disposed to listen. The chief priests, in fact, could, 
 if they chose, prevent any one preaching in the Temple, so 
 that their question in itself was natural and just enough. 
 They were not stepping beyond their own province and own 
 right in asking it. But yet, in a very real sense, the ques- 
 tion was an unjust one. It was not Christ's part to assert 
 any direct authority given to him to teach the people and 
 preach the gospel. It was their part to judge of his authority 
 for themselves. It was their part to examine into what He 
 taught, in order to see if it had the proof of its own author- 
 ity in itself. No authority given to him by another would 
 have made his teaching tolerable, if it was in itself unsound 
 and unedifying. No absence of external authority could 
 justify their silencing him, and turning him out of the Tem- 
 ple, if the words which He spoke were wise and true, if 
 they brought light and help to his hearers. So that in re- 
 ality the question, " By what authority doest thou these 
 things ? or who is he that gave thee this authority ? " was 
 
STORY.] CBBISrS AUTHORITY. 323 
 
 quite beside the mark. It had nothing to do with the point 
 whether Christ should be allowed to teach in the Temple or 
 not. No authority could settle that point, except the au- 
 thority that dwelt in him, in his words and works them- 
 selves. 
 
 Now, brethren, this same question is still — is always — 
 the question asked by those whose religious life is formal 
 and unspiritual, whenever they are brought face to face 
 with any new light and truth. Wherever you find new 
 light and truth, there you find the work of Christ going on, 
 for you. From whatever quarter these come to you, living 
 light and truth, in virtue of which you feel your spirit live 
 more freely, you know that from that quarter the Spirit of 
 God, which "bloweth where it listeth," is blowing upon you. 
 The light may come to you from a written book, or a spoken 
 word, or from your own thoughts in earnest and patient 
 reflection on the word or works of God ; but, howsoever it 
 comes, it is to you a revelation from God, an unveiling of 
 what before was hidden, the discovery, as it were, of an- 
 other letter in the great name of God, which only the pure 
 
 eye can read. 
 
 But still, as in the days of him who " spake as never 
 man spake," there are those who, when brought into con- 
 tact with new thought, with new teaching, with what pro- 
 fesses at least to be clearer light and wider truth than 
 men before possessed, rather than look at the thing itself, 
 will demand— "Whence comes it? What authority has 
 it ? Who gave it its authority ? "—will not search into its 
 character to see whether that does or does not bear the mark 
 of the spirit of Christ, but merely seek to know whether 
 any opinion has been pronounced in its favor— what system 
 it acrrees with, what usage is on its side. But that is not 
 the point to settle. Any one who believes in Christ's work 
 as a living work, who believes that lie still teaches his peo- 
 ple, and leads them by his Spirit into clearer and clearer 
 
324 CHRIST'S A UTHORITY. [sermon xxii. 
 
 light, is ready, from the very fact of his belief, to receive 
 illumination whencesoever it may come ; and is ready also, 
 from the very fact of his belief, to apply to it the test, not 
 " What authority has it ? " but " What character has it ? " 
 — ^not " What external claim has it to be received with re- 
 spect ? " but " What inner claim speaking from it tells me 
 that it is of Christ, convinces me that it comes from him ? " 
 The external authority is but the stamp upon the coin. The 
 stamp may be a forgery. The internal evidence is the fine 
 gold of which the true coin is made, and which, stamped 
 or unstamped, is of the same intrinsic and unalterable value. 
 
 A man may come, invested with all possible authority, 
 and he may teach you what is in part true and in part false, 
 what is in part of Christ, and what is in part of the world ; 
 and, if you regard his authority only, you will feel bound to 
 receive each part alike and with the same deference, while 
 perhaps your instinctive discernment between truth and 
 falsehood, between right and wrong, will be perplexed and 
 bewildered by finding the same authority thrusting on it 
 that which it recognizes as true and right, and that which 
 it is impelled to acknowledge to be false and wrong ; and 
 so a conflict between the rights of your own judgment and 
 the claims of the authority you have been bidden to bow 
 down to arises, which, ere it is ended, may shake and shat- 
 ter all the foundations of your belief and faith. 
 
 And in the same way — to take an example from what 
 we may have been taught ourselves — when truths of spirit- 
 ual meaning and matters of mere speculative interest are 
 mixed up together as parts of one great system, and you are 
 required to receive the whole as true, while the progress of 
 your knowledge tells you that part is false, great is the evil 
 that is done. Thus, for instance, when we are bidden by 
 the same authority to believe that Jesus Christ died for our 
 sins, and rose again the third day — most blessed and glori- 
 ous belief — and that God made the world in six days' time 
 
STOKY.] CIIEISrS AUTHORITY. 325 
 
 of twenty-four hours each, which it docs not concern our 
 religious life to believe or to disbelieve, and which science 
 contradicts, and Scripture does not assert ; the injury done 
 to the earnestly inquiring mind, early trained to accept a 
 truth upon authority, is often lasting in its effect, begetting 
 a spirit of almost angry doubt as to every truth which 
 others commonly receive. Through demanding that too 
 much be believed, one may induce repugnance to fixed be- 
 lief altogether. 
 
 But no such injury can be done, and no destructive con- 
 flict can arise, if you learn to act on this principle, that au- 
 thority has no power over you, except in so far as it has its 
 witness in itself ; except in so far as your conscience (after 
 earnest trial) acknowledges it as just and right and true ; 
 that every thing, every truth, every teacher, is to be judged, 
 not by what is external— authority, or name, or position ; 
 but by what is internal— by character. *' By their fruits ye 
 shall know them " is a universal rule. Every religious truth 
 that men can believe, every creed, however venerable, had 
 a moral and spiritual meaning of its own before it had any 
 external authority. The authority that encircles the most 
 ancient truth grew round it gradually, only because that 
 Divine character that was in it appealed to the consciences 
 of men, and was recognized by all ; and the common belief 
 and reverence of all raised it to its commanding place. But 
 it can only maintain that place by the same appeal continu- 
 ino- to meet with the same recognition ; not by men being 
 constrained to do it honor out of regard to the external 
 authority that has come to surround it. That is worth no- 
 thing if the deeper faith in it dies out. Suppose, for hi- 
 stance, that out of men's hearts and minds had died all liv- 
 ing belief in those first words of the Church's creed, " I 
 believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and 
 earth "—suppose that, in the course of time, all faith in a 
 Divine Father, the " God of our life," the personal protec- 
 
326 CHRISrS A UTHORITY. [sermon xxu. 
 
 tor and friend of every man, had vanished away, and men 
 had come to believe in nothing but the laws and forces of 
 " nature," and had lost the idea of a " living God," and of 
 a spiritual life nourished by a daily communion with him, 
 and developed toward its highest perfectness through a 
 loving obedience to his will — suppose all this were gone, 
 had died out of the common heart and mind, and that still, 
 although all actual belief in the words had ceased, the 
 Church kept repeating the ancient creed and authoritatively 
 rehearsed the letter of an extinct gospel, would her author- 
 ity have any power ? Would there be in it anything to 
 revive the departed spirit, and to breathe a Divine breath 
 into the hardened and contracted life of the unbelieving ? 
 Never ! It would be but a monument of the dead, but the 
 cast-off vesture of the faith which it had outlived. Nor 
 would that faith ever be revived by men having its former 
 authority quoted to them, but by having the burning flame 
 of the truth, round which the authority had gathered, again 
 so made to shine as to cause them in its light to "see 
 light." 
 
 Every truth, every system, every teacher must be judged 
 according to what it, or what he, produces, and is — accord- 
 ing to the fruits, according to the character. This is the 
 judgment by which Christ wished to be judged. It matters 
 little what a man calls himself — a " prophet," or an " apos- 
 tle," or a " descendant of the apostles " — the question is, 
 What can he do ? What can he teach ? What is he in 
 himself ? It matters little what men say against or for a 
 new form, or a new truth, or a new system : that it is not 
 Scriptural ; that it is not according to the Fathers of the 
 Church ; that it is not according to the common custom ; 
 or, that it is in accordance with Scripture, and tradition, 
 and the usage and order of the Universal Church. The 
 question is, " Is it true ? Is it better than what we have 
 hitherto believed or practiced ? Does it approve itself to 
 
8T0RY.J 
 
 CHRISrS AUTHORITY. 327 
 
 our reason and conscience as a tiling reasonable, beneficial, 
 as far as we can see, according to God's will ? " If so, then 
 it is no matter what custom or tradition is for it or agamst 
 it. God has not given us our faculties that we should obey 
 custom and tradition, but that, in the growing light and 
 liberty of our knowledge and faith, we should serve hun and 
 learn the most we can of his truth, and do the best we can 
 for his service ; not with a grudging terror at every step of 
 going wrong, but with a large and liberal trust in his father- 
 ly guidance of us, as long as our hearts are right with him. 
 We are not, of course, to run off with the notion, which 
 is very acceptable to those who in all ages (as at the first) 
 can not, or will not, distinguish between Christian liberty 
 and mere lawlessness or license, that no regard whatsoever 
 is due to authority— to the authority of a church, for in- 
 stance, or of a great system of truth, such as a church's 
 creed or confession. What we have to remember is, that 
 we must never let authority override our own judgment 
 and conscience, or lead us to evade the responsibility of 
 proving all things, to the end that we may "hold fast" 
 that only which is good. But, at the same time, we must 
 remember that authority almost always demands respect, 
 because almost always representing a certain Aveight of 
 right and truth ; because representing what the common 
 judgment and conscience of many men (probably in divers 
 ways wiser and better than ourselves) has decided to be 
 worthy of acceptance. And just as a strict rule is neces- 
 sary for the child at school, and he must be controlled by 
 another when is too young to control or govern himself, to 
 the end that he may learn self-control and self-government 
 as he grows up, so God often uses authority as a useful 
 and necessary teacher and trainer for his children ; but ever 
 for the like end, not that they should always be bound by 
 it, but, led by it till their steps are firm, should then be 
 able to walk alone ; ruled by it in their years of ignorance, 
 
328 CHIilSrS A UTHOBITY. [sebmon xxii, 
 
 should, when theii' faculties are riper, be able to judge con- 
 scientiously for themselves ; should be able, when they 
 have reached the full knowledge of good and evil, to sep- 
 arate between the two, to " discern " the spirits of good 
 and of evil. 
 
 Now, brethren, such a point as this which is suggested 
 by my text may perhaps appear to be suitable enough for 
 a theological discussion, but to lie a good way apart from 
 the domain of our ordinary life and its concerns. We do 
 not need, you may think, to occuj^y ourselves with these 
 matters at all. We may leave them to wiser people, and 
 believe what we are taught to believe, and what our fathers 
 believed before us, and no harm is done. But the fact is, 
 that, whatever we believe or whatever we are taught, gi-eat 
 harm — it may be lasting and immeasurable harm — is done 
 to our spiritual life, if we have no clear idea as to our own 
 duty and responsibility in regai'd to all that we are taught 
 or called on to believe, or that appeals to our judgment 
 and our conscience, and asks us to decide upon its claim to 
 be received. You can not evade that claim, and live a 
 healthful and growing life. You can not let light and 
 truth pass you by, without any effort to see for yourself 
 what they are ; or accept just so much as others accept, and 
 as you are told is safe and right ; or content yourself with 
 asking the chief Priest's question, and taking what answer 
 you can get, and yet hope to be spiritually nourished and 
 to grow in grace or knowledge afterward. For religious 
 truth or knowledge is not one set lesson, or one measured 
 quantity, which you can receive and lay by, as you might 
 lay by a store of provisions for the winter's use. It is 
 rather like that " spiritual rock " which St. Paul tells us 
 followed the Israelites in the desert, and of which each 
 drank as he thirsted. It is the fullness of a deep fountain, 
 from which we must draw according to our need and our 
 capacity ; and, unless we are drawing from it day by day, 
 
STORY.] CHEISrS AUTHOBITY. 329 
 
 every seed of Divine life must wither and die within us. 
 It is the exuberant crop of a rich field bringing forth herbs 
 and fruits of which, as we go on our way, we must gather ; 
 taking due heed that what we gather is good fruit and 
 wholesome herb ; learning to discern between that which 
 would nourish and that which would poison, between that 
 which our experience teaches us would quicken and strength- 
 en the spirit's life and that. which would weaken and cor- 
 rupt it. 
 
 And it is to this knowledge, to this discernment, breth- 
 ren, that the Spirit of God leads us. 
 
 When Christ was about to go away from his disciples. 
 He explained to them that though He went He did not 
 leave them alone, for his Spirit would come to them and 
 abide with them. He called that Spirit emphatically " the 
 Spirit of truth." He said He would guide them " into all 
 truth." They could no more hear their Master's word, 
 behold his works, lean upon his authority, rejoice in his 
 presence. They, like all who would follow him and press 
 toward the mark of the heavenly prize, must do so alone, 
 by themselves, bearing their own burden, fighting their own 
 fight ; and yet not alone, because this Sj^irit should be with 
 them, teaching them all things, bringing to their remem- 
 brance all the words of Christ, throwing upon all their 
 future life the light of his teaching, the illumination of the 
 truth that they had learned from him ; and so suffering not 
 that truth to remain, as it were, dead and unfruitful in their 
 hearts, but ever adding to it more and more, filling them 
 " with all the fullness of God." And as for them, so for 
 us. We too have this promise of the Spirit ; we live under 
 his dispensation. His work in us and for us, as for them, 
 is to lead us "into all truth" ; to help us to seek it and to 
 find it, to discern between it and falsehood, between the 
 mere doctrine of man and the revelation of God to our 
 souls, between the wisdom of the flesh, which is as grass 
 
330 CHEISrS AUTHORITY. [sermon xxii. 
 
 that withers and whose flower fades, and the w^ord of the 
 Lord, which "liveth and abideth for ever." That Spirit, 
 brethren, is our great authority ; nothing else is ; He only 
 leads us to the truth, and, witnessing with our spirits, helps 
 us to discern it. 
 
 He who, in the faith of a Divine enlightenment, of a 
 spiritual guidance, earnestly seeks to know all that God 
 would teach him, is never disappointed. The light of the 
 inward witness does not fail. The promise of what the 
 " Spirit of truth " will do holds good. Not more sure is 
 the promise that, in the outer world, day and night, seed- 
 time and harvest, summer and winter, shall not cease, than 
 that, in the world within, the patient, humble, earnest spirit 
 shall find an ever clearer light encircling it, an ever higher 
 knowledge filling it with strength and peace. 
 
 What then, brethren, in view of this, should be our 
 position, what the character of our search after truth ? It 
 should not be, as is too common, a restless gadding to and 
 fro after every new thing. It should not be a hasty dip- 
 ping into every new subject, and running to look at every 
 new speculation. There are many subjects, and many ways 
 of teaching and trjdng to influence men, from which a jsure 
 and candid mind will feel itself at once repelled, its own 
 moral instinct telling it that it will get no good from them. 
 It is not necessary, in order to find truth, that you should 
 search for it wherever the world may tell you, or the ex- 
 ample of others may suggest. It is needful rather to seek 
 where the Spirit seems to lead. It will always guide you 
 rightly ; it will discover with a finer tact than yours where 
 truth lies — whei'e it lies even amid error and shining out of 
 darkness. 
 
 There is a reality, brethren, in that spiritual guidance. 
 Those that say they know it not do not prove that it does 
 not exist ; they only prove that they possess it not, because 
 they have not sought it with a pure heart and earnest mind. 
 
STORY.] CIIRISrS AUTIIOrdTY. 331 
 
 And our life, in its relation to God's truth, should be a 
 daily seeking to be led by that Spirit into wider and clearer 
 knowledge ; just as our life, in its relation to our brethren, 
 should be a daily seeking to be filled more and more, by 
 that same Spirit, with that peaceful, and kindly, and win- 
 ning charity which is the "bond of perfectncss" and the 
 " fulfilling of the law." 
 
 And as we seek that guidance and strive to follow it, 
 " calling no man master on earth," not suffering any one to 
 step in between us and the Father of our spirits to usurp 
 his authority or to intercept his light, we may perhaps find 
 that we shall be led onward whither we did not at first ex- 
 pect ; we may come to see that many of those things, which 
 we before believed, were wrong ; that many were but par- 
 tial truths apprehended " in part " or seen " through a glass 
 darkly " ; that much that Ave had thought was intended to 
 be permanent must be suffered to pass away, and give place 
 to what is better and truer and more enduring. We may 
 find ourselves led gradually into new paths, until we almost 
 lose sight of the old way and of the " ancient landmarks." 
 But, however far we may be led from them, we shall be led 
 only nearer God ; our steps, if we follow that guidance, 
 shall not stumble ; and though, for a time, we may have to 
 tread the lonely wilderness, we yet shall see the Promised 
 Land, and shall stand within the gates of the city which 
 can not be shaken, whose everlasting foundations God has 
 laid. 
 
 It is only thus, brethren, that our faith can become to 
 us a reality, a source of joy and strength. The life that 
 has not faith, large trust in God, is barren and weak. 
 Where there is no knowledge, there can be no faith. To 
 trust God, you must know him. To know him, yoii must 
 not be content to take for granted what you may be told 
 about him ; you must try to learn what He is from himself, 
 to learn more and more of his will, of his character, of his 
 
332 CHRIST'S AUTIIOEITY. [sermon xxu. 
 
 goodness, of his love. And this knowledge comes not at 
 second-hand : they who would gain it must seek it for them- 
 selves. 
 
 Remember how, in the Book of the Acts, the Jews at 
 Berea are commended, and get an honorable name, because 
 hearing the preaching of the aj)ostles they would not blind- 
 ly accept what they told them, but searched the Scriptures 
 daily, to find whether what they taught them agreed with 
 those Scriptures, which were the highest revelation of God's 
 truth which they knew, or could refer to. The same is our 
 duty : to test all truth by the standard of the clearest light 
 which God has given us ; and to hold fast that to which 
 his Spirit seems to witness. We may not think much of 
 this duty. Almost any other may appear more important 
 in our eyes. We may go through our life and its routine 
 of religious forms without a thought of this. But, if so, 
 what becomes of our spirit's life, that life which the word 
 of God, the truth of God, alone can nourish ? Our outward 
 life may prosper ; even our intelligence as to worldly knowl- 
 edge and affairs may grow and ripen, but our " spiritual 
 understanding " remains at the childish stage. We do not 
 and can not attain to " the measure of the stature of perfect 
 men in Christ," 
 
 Snares and temptations, in the region of our Christian 
 knowledge and belief, come to us, brethren, in very differ- 
 ent forms, according to our different positions and capacities; 
 but in no more common and frequent form than this which 
 the question of the text specially suggests to us : to be lazi- 
 ly or self -righteously content with what we and our fathers 
 have known and have attained to, counting ourselves as 
 though we had already attained and were already perfect, 
 elevating our own judgment to a place of supreme authori- 
 ty, and challenging the world of truth to produce a higher ; 
 and, instead of humbly and thankfully recognizing the 
 presence of God's Spirit in his Church, ever teaching us 
 
STORY.J 
 
 CHRISrS AUTHORITY. 333 
 
 more and leading us onward and upward if only we will 
 move, practically denying his working and setting up some 
 limit of our own, standing by which we say to the advanc- 
 ing wave of Divine light, " Hitherto hast thou come, but 
 
 no further." 
 
 Let us beware of this spirit, made up of selfish indiffer- 
 ence and dull self-righteousness ; and, acknowledging how 
 little we know, believing how much there is to learn, desir- 
 ing to be led into all truth that we may not only " know 
 him that is true," but may abide in him, let our language 
 to our Father ever be that of his servant of old : "Lead me 
 in thy truth, and teach me : for Thou art the God of my 
 salvation ; on Thee do I wait all the day." 
 
 And now to God the Father Almighty, with the Son and 
 the Holy Ghost, be all glory in the Church, world without 
 end ! Amen, 
 
334 CHRISTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. [sermon xxm. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 CHEISTIAK KIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 BY THE RET. R. H. STORY, D. D., ROSNEATH, 
 
 *' What shall we say then ? That the Gentiles, which followed not after 
 righteousness, have attained to righteousness, even the righteousness which 
 is of faith." — Romans ix, 30. 
 
 What is that " righteousness " of which we read so 
 much in the Bible, and yet possibly know so little ? Have 
 we any clear idea of what we mean when we speak of it, and 
 in speaking perhaps condemn, as we have been taught to 
 do, our own righteousness, and exalt that of Christ ? Very 
 probably we have not ; but here, as in relation to many 
 other points, use religious language without clear under- 
 standing of the fact that it either expresses or conceals (for 
 language must do one or the other). If you use it know- 
 ingly, it helps others to know what you know. If you use 
 it not understanding its meaning, it but helps to deepen the 
 ignorance of yourself and others as to what is really meant. 
 
 Now, as to this and other words in the Bible which are 
 used both in the Old and the New Testament, it is well to 
 try and see first of all what those who employed the word 
 earliest meant by it — the Jews of the Old Testament ; and 
 their idea of what they called " righteousness " seems to 
 have been the fulfilling of the Commandments. He who 
 kept these — who walked in all the precej^ts of the Lord 
 blameless, such as Daniel in the Old Testament, or Na- 
 thaniel in the New — was righteous, according to the Jewish 
 
STORY.] CHRISTIAN BIGHTEOUSNESS. 335 
 
 idea. It was a very comprehensive idea — comprehensive 
 rather than deej). It included a great deal. It included 
 not only all moral conduct, but even matters of religious 
 observance and ceremonial — small details, such as tithinsr 
 the smallest herbs and not eating with unwashen hands, as 
 well as the greatest duties, abstaining from idolatry and 
 theft, and false witness and murder. It was a wide and 
 comprehensive idea of what righteousness should be. But 
 it was not so deep as it was wide — at least it was not so 
 as people generally held it. For most men of any delicacy 
 of conscience have a stronger instinct than that merely of 
 doing the thing which is right, and preserving a fair out- 
 ward conduct. There is in them the instinct or desire not 
 only of moral rectitude, but of spiritual perfectness. There 
 is a voice which, when every visible obligation has been 
 carefully discharged, calls out within, "All these can not— it--: 
 make the doers thereof perfect." When every external -^ ' '^' 
 obligation has been fulfilled, the internal begins. Action is 
 not enough. Thought and intention and desire and will 
 must be ruled too ; and, in as far as the Jewish idea of 
 righteousness did not realize this, it was, though wide 
 enough, not deep enough. It did not realize that the law 
 must not rest in being a written commandment, but must 
 become a living spirit, a fountain of moral life and strength 
 within. Now, as the Jewish idea of righteousness fell 
 short of this, so does the Christian idea of it — the idea 
 which we gather from the New Testament, and specially 
 from St. Paul — seem even to go, to a certain extent, be- 
 yond this. To St. Paul, in the light of Divine righteous- 
 ness, the law did not so much seem to be transfigured, 
 " magnified and made honorable," as to be actually absorbed 
 and lost sight of. What he felt God required of men was 
 not a legal obedience. It was a " new creature " — a new 
 creation. It was a return to God and to the pure nature 
 God had given, to that state in which law, by which " is the 
 
336 CHRISTIAN BIGHTEOUSN'ESS. [sermon xxiii. 
 
 knowledge of sin," should not be needed. The kind of 
 thing, of which St. Paul thought when he spoke of right- 
 eousness, was not so much a pure outward conduct springing 
 from a pure and dutiful respect to the law in the heart, and 
 a careful obedience to every whisper of conscience there, as 
 a spirit which raised him who possessed it above the burden 
 of ordinances and the sense of an effort to learn and to ful- 
 fill a prescribed commandment, and brought him into living 
 and personal communion with his God. It was a righteous- 
 ness not of law but of faith — a righteousness which ex- 
 pressed in the earthly the principles and spirit of the 
 heavenly or Divine life ; as different from the legal right- 
 eousness which attended to outward detail, or which thought 
 its best aim was to have the law so written on the heart as 
 to be unable to miss one of its requirements or break one of 
 its rules, as the free and expressive language of a native of 
 a country is different from the formal attempt of a foreigner 
 to speak the tongue correctly. The foreigner may learn 
 the language. He may know every rule of its grammar 
 and be at home in its idioms, and through his knowledge, 
 painfully acquired, come at last to speak, as we say, " like 
 a native " ; but the highest praise that you can give him, 
 after all, is that he does it like the other — that through 
 laborious practice he does what the other does better natu- 
 rally ; and even then the easy phrase, the perfect idiom, the 
 homely familiarity with the power of the language, which 
 mark the native's speech, seldom if ever grace his. So is 
 the righteousness, which cherishes the idea of a fulfilled 
 law as its highest, compared w^ith that which rises, like its 
 proper flower and fruit, out of the new creature — the new 
 sjiirit, which is at home with God and delighting itself in him. 
 Now, it is this higher, deeper, inward righteousness 
 which St. Paul thinks of when he speaks of " the righteous- 
 ness of faith." It is righteousness of character, which is 
 deeper and greater than any righteousness of conduct. 
 
STORY.] CHRISTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. 337 
 
 Now, what is the special connection between this right- 
 eousness and faith ? Why does St. Paul call it, as he docs 
 here, the " righteousness of faith " ? 
 
 Because he felt that the true root of this righteousness 
 was Christ ; and faith, he felt also, was that which takes us 
 out of ourselves and joins us to Christ, so that, as living 
 branches springing from the vine, we may bear much fruit. 
 The power of laying hold of Christ is the root of the deeper 
 righteousness. St. Paul felt that it had been so in his own 
 case. The vision he had seen, the voice he had heard on 
 his road to Damascus, had opened his eyes and ears to that 
 world unseen, which till then he had not realized — had re- 
 vealed to him One who watched his way, who was wounded 
 by his hostility, who was striving to lead and influence him 
 in spite of all his self-confidence and self-will, whose plan 
 for his future life was something quite different from his 
 own. It was through this revelation, he felt, that God had 
 led him to a deeper righteousness. It was the faith that it 
 teas God who had so led him that was the root and strength 
 of his new and better life. The way by which God had led 
 him he felt sure was, in reality, none other than the way by 
 which He was leading, and would lead, all men. So that 
 when he preached the necessity of a deeper than legal right- 
 eousness, and called it " the righteousness of faith," his con- 
 science bore him Avitness that it was through this faith ho 
 had himself passed from darkness to light, from the burden 
 of law and ordinance to the power and freedom of an end- 
 less life, by which same way he felt assured all men must 
 pass. 
 
 The deeper righteousness, then, as it appears to St. Paul, 
 we may say, comprehensively, is the Christian Life. The 
 root of it is Christ, and it is called the " righteousness of 
 faith'''' because by faith we lay hold of him. 
 
 This is a simple matter if you look at it candidly. But 
 it has been much confused by too great a mixture of human 
 
 15 
 
338 OHIUSTIAN EIGHTEOUSNESS. [sermon xxiii. 
 
 dogma and definition with the simplicity of the truth. A 
 man, -we shall say, is living a life of self-will and self -refer- 
 ence, recognizing either his own will as his only rule, or, 
 like St. Paul before he reached Damascus, setting before 
 him a certain formal standard of duty, and trying to come 
 up to that ; but with no sense of spiritual want about him, 
 sufficient to himself. Suddenly, or gradually, it comes to 
 him that this is not enough, that his life is not what it should 
 be and might be, that in its regions of highest hope and in- 
 terest it is barren, that, spiritually, it is wellnigh dead. He 
 looks about for help and finds none. He tries to rest in 
 himself, and in his worldly life and work, and can not rest. 
 At last, through the trouble of his own spirit, or the light 
 of God's Spirit witnessing with his, or through the word of 
 truth, he is brought to think of Christ, and he turns eagerly 
 to him. His old life falls away from him like a worn-out 
 garment of which he is ashamed, as he sees more and more 
 clearly the character of the life Christ Avould have him and 
 help him to live, as he compares himself with him, as he 
 realizes Christ's desire to work out in him a life of a nobler 
 and purer type. His own righteousness, his own standard, 
 such as it was, had been enough for him before. Now it is 
 as " filthy rags," never to be looked at or thought of more. 
 Christ's righteousness, Christ's standard, which rises in its 
 clear beauty before the eye of his faith, shines upon him 
 with such brightness that he can not bear to look back upon 
 his former self. 
 
 This is a natural experience, is it not ? A plain and 
 simple road by which to ti-avel from the worldly to the 
 heavenly region, from the life of the world to the life of 
 Christ, from the righteousness of self or of law to the right- 
 eousness of faith. 
 
 But, to suit their systems, men have changed all this ; 
 and, in regard to man's righteousness and Christ's, have 
 tauaht much that it is hard to reconcile with Christian 
 
STORY. J CEEISTIAN EIGIITEOUSNESS. 339 
 
 truth, or even with what is morally right and true. They 
 have taught, for instance, that all a man's own works, which 
 are not done through faith in Christ, are necessarily evil — 
 that even " the good works " of the " unregenerate " are bad 
 works ; as if any work could be a good work which was not 
 done with a good intention, and with that unselfish regard 
 to higher than merely worldly or selfish interests, which is 
 called in the Bible " faith," whether the direct object of that 
 faith be Christ, in the full knowledge of him and of God, or 
 not : or as if any work done with that intention, done with 
 a pure motive, with the honest conviction, " This world is 
 not all, and I shall not act as though it and its interests were 
 supreme ; this self is not the first object in the universe, and 
 I shall not act as though it were," could be evil and dis- 
 pleasing in the sight of God the Father. And having taught 
 this a])out the good works of the unregenerate or non-elect, 
 they then teach that nothing that a man who is regenerate 
 can do is of any value in God's sight, and that all that the 
 best of men can effect is to clothe themselves, as it is called, 
 with the righteousness of Christ ; as though there were in 
 him a vast magazine or deposit of righteousness, from which 
 we might draw what would cover our own nakedness or 
 rags. All which is unhealthy teaching — false in form if not 
 in substance. The righteousness of Christ is not a great 
 fund, so to speak, out of which sums may ever and anon be 
 taken and " im})uted " to his people. It is the pure and per- 
 fect character and life which we by knowledge of him see, 
 which we by faith in him set before us as our only aim, as 
 our only example, as our only stimulus and help to over- 
 come self and the devil and the world : and that righteous- 
 ness, imperfect in its measure, yet in kind like his, inspired 
 by his Spirit, upheld by his example, which we are able to 
 show forth, is, in the sight of God who sent him forth, that 
 believing we might have life through his name, of great, 
 even of inestimable price ; for it is not our own but the 
 
340 CHRISTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. [sekmon xxiii. 
 
 righteousness of Christ living in us, not a righteousness out- 
 side of us and put upon us as a cloak to hide our sins from 
 God, not " imputed " to us as ours when it is really anoth- 
 er's, but the fresh and healthy outcome of our own heart and 
 conscience and energy, quickened, transfigured, sanctified, 
 by the indwelling spirit of the " Lord our Righteousness." 
 Now, it is of great importance that we should think 
 rightly of this matter. I think any one with a healthy con- 
 science must see that, as Scripture tells us, only that which 
 is righteous, right, true, honest, is acceptable in the sight 
 of God ; that only those who are righteous can stand be- 
 fore him. To deny this is to overthrow all ideas of right- 
 eousness and truth, and to obscure all lines dividing risrht 
 from wrong. And those who can so stand before God must 
 be able to do so in virtue of that which is in themselves, 
 not of something which is not in them but is " imputed'''' to 
 them ; in virtue of Christ's righteousness shared by them 
 and growing within them, not of Christ's righteousness 
 reckoned as belonging to them, by a mere exercise of God's 
 will and pleasure. In the last resort, in the court of high- 
 est appeal, at the very throne of God, that which we wish to 
 find is a perfect reality of dealing ; no fiction, no assump- 
 tion of fact where there is no fact ; no imputation of char- 
 acter where there is no character. What we wish to be 
 assured of there is, that God will deal with us as we are in 
 ourselves ; that if there is evil in us He will not cloak it 
 and so leave it in us, but will spare no pains to work it out 
 of us and take it away ; that He will not, because He has 
 made a decree in our favor, take Christ's righteousness and 
 clothe us with it, and say, " Now you are in him, you are 
 sanctified, you are justified" ; but that He will, because He 
 loves us, try to bring out in us the character and image of 
 the Son of his love, so that of us as of him He may be able 
 to say, " These are my beloved sons, in whom I am well 
 pleased." 
 
8TORY.J CUniSTIAN EIGBTEOUSNEiSS. 341 
 
 And desiring this perfect reality and truth in God's 
 dealings with me, I can not be satisfied with any doctrine 
 of " imputation," or any talk about being " clothed with 
 Christ's righteousness," and, as it were, under cover of this 
 passed into the secret place of God's favor. What I want, 
 if I am honest in the matter, is not to be accounted as right- 
 eous, but to be made righteous ; not to be called righteous, 
 but to he righteous. Why, in the region of my eternal in- 
 terests, should that satisfy me which never could in the 
 lower region of my temporal interests. If I am wrongfully 
 accused and brought to the bar of the law, I do not wish 
 to get off with a verdict of " Not proven." I wish to be 
 discharged on full evidence that I am not guilty. Or if I 
 am guilty, and have any real consciousness of guilt, and am 
 touched with any true sorrow for it, I am willing to suffer 
 whatever be the just and proper punishment. It is only 
 the dishonest and impenitent law-breaker who would wish 
 to escape because he has friends in the jury, or trusts to 
 some one who will win over the judge. So, in the same 
 way, if I am honest in my desire to live the life of Christ, 
 it is nothing to me to be told his righteousness shall be im- 
 puted to me. Nay, were it so imputed, it would be a hin- 
 drance in my way. I should be inclined to say : " Do not 
 reckon that mine which is not mine. Do not call me right- 
 eous who am still unrighteous. Do not tempt me to think 
 I have learned, or done, or suffered enough. I would ' go 
 on unto perfection.' I would know Christ, and know no- 
 thing of his righteousness except as I see it in him, and try 
 day by day to work it out in my own self till He is formed 
 in me — the hope of glory." 
 
 " After all, then," some will probably be inclined to 
 say, " you are trusting to your own righteousness. You 
 are resting on yourself. It is yourself you trust to in the 
 end." 
 
 Now, here we are very apt to confuse points that should 
 
342 CHRISTIAN BIGIITEOUSNESS. [seemon xxiii. 
 
 be kept separate. All my confidence for anything beyond 
 what I see and handle, for any spiritual truth, for any hope 
 of the future, is and must be in God, and in God as Christ 
 revealed him. It is because I believe God to be the God 
 whom Christ revealed, that I have any hope or trust in 
 him. My only foothold for the future is on my conscious- 
 ness of his fatherly character and relation to me. And this 
 consciousness is so rooted and grounded in Christ that it is 
 best described as trust in Christ. Our trust is in him. But 
 I am never told that I am to trust in the righteousness of 
 Christ, in any sense which excludes the idea of my being 
 required to have a righteousness of my own. Zmust be 
 righteous, as St. John tells me, " even as He is righteous." 
 And the consciousness of that righteousness must take its 
 place, beside my trust in God, as a true and necessary 
 ground of confidence ; the consciousness that here, amid 
 whatever frailty and imjierfection, I have yet honestly 
 striven after a righteousness that was Divine. 
 
 The life of the future, brethren, is but the full develop- 
 ment of the life of the present. It is not a new life sud- 
 denly discovered. It is an old life renewed under different 
 conditions, but with the unbroken thread of one identity 
 binding it to that which has gone before. Whatever else 
 it may be, it must be this, if the hope of it is to shine for 
 us with any brightness at all. And if so, then that which 
 is to mark our character there must have, at least, begun to 
 mark it here. If there my life is to be bound up in near 
 unity with Christ's, the root of that unity must be planted 
 now. If I am to find myself in his presence when I go 
 hence, I must carry with me, as I pass into the silent worlds, 
 something which will not fail me because of the greatness, 
 and, for aught I know, the terribleness of the way ; some- 
 thing Avhich, when I stand before the throne, " the Lord, 
 the righteous Judge," shall recognize as having affiance 
 with himself, as having in it ever so feeble a breath of the 
 
STORY.] CHRISTIAN EIGIITEOUSNESS. 343 
 
 spirit of his own eternal life, of that life which is not of 
 the world but of God, whose fountain is not from beneath 
 but from above. Without this there can be no sound and 
 safe trust in Christ. There may be no more growth of 
 righteousness in the character than that most elementary- 
 movement of self-reproach and acknowledgment of sin 
 which opened the lips of the penitent thief upon the cross 
 and won for him the promise of Paradise, but there must 
 at least be this, ere there can be any honesty in confidence 
 toward God. The confidence of the unawakened and un- 
 righteous, the confidence Avith which you will hear some- 
 times those that have grown old in worldliness say, when 
 lying on their death-beds, that they look to Christ, while 
 they have never once tried, or even desired to try, to love 
 him, and to live his life, and to copy his example, is not 
 faith, but self-deception. The boast of leaving everything 
 to Christ, of rejoicing to know that you can do nothing, 
 and need do nothing, for your own salvation ; that all your 
 own righteousness is as " filthy rags," and that you are 
 yourself a worm, and vile and incapable of good ; which 
 you often hear (and often hear from persons who are yet in 
 spirit very self-righteous, and the reverse of humble and 
 meek), is a boast which from any lips is foolish, which from 
 some lips is a mere falsehood — to be avoided by all who 
 Avould truly follow Christ and be saved by him ; by all who 
 really understand that their own righteousness, their own 
 projects and efforts for good which have no reference to 
 God's will, and do not proceed on an honest faith in One 
 who is true and righteous, and who loves truth and right- 
 eousness, are of no worth at all ; but that their own right- 
 eousness, when it is " of faith," when it is the fruit of that 
 faith in Christ without which a spiritual life must grow 
 feeble and decay, is of real value, and precious in the sight 
 of God — of God, who regards what we are rather than 
 what we do — and who, in some that do a great deal that 
 
344 CHRISTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. [sermon xxiii. 
 
 seems good, may yet see nothing of that spirit without 
 which it has no inner virtue ; who, in some that are per- 
 haps able to do very little, who can but suffer, or can but 
 " stand and wait," perceives the savor and the beauty of 
 that " unction from the Holy One " which we receive of 
 Christ. 
 y\ We must be "in Christ," united to him who is our life, 
 in faith and love ; and out of the strength of that union we 
 must bring forth the fruits of his Spirit, we must show in 
 ourselves, not a righteousness of our own, but that which is 
 the result of Christ's Spirit living and working in us, the 
 righteousness of faith, of " the new creature " walking not 
 after the flesh but after the Spirit. ^ 
 
 Consider for a moment, ere we close, brethren, the as- 
 cending scale by which we rise to this. 
 
 We begin from the lowest type of human life which has 
 known any Christian influence at all — the life which is either 
 sunk in carnality, or in worldliness, which has no aim be- 
 yond personal pleasure or personal profit, without generos- 
 ity, without the capacity of self-sacrifice, without the sense 
 of its own meanness and unworthiness. That is the life of 
 many, and goes on in many, only deepening in its worst 
 features to the close. A step higher you have the kind of 
 life which, in the common language of the ancient Jew, or 
 of the modern Pharisee, would be called righteous — the life 
 of respectable deference to law and religious opinion, and 
 of consistent desire to do the prescribed duty properly, 
 whatever the demands of duty may be. This, too, is the 
 life of many, a life in its outward aspect, at least, and often 
 also in its inner character, morally fair and just. Above it 
 stands the life of yet higher cast, in which the law of God 
 is understood to be a living law, searching into even the 
 thoughts and intents of the heart, requiring truth in the 
 inward parts, a life which sees that " the law " is not all, 
 but hears in it the voice of the Lawgiver, and has some un- 
 
STORY.] CIirdSTIAN RIGHTEOUSNESS. 345 
 
 derstanding, more or less clear, of his character, and desires 
 not only to obey, but to please him in obeying. This is a life 
 of yet purer and more exalted principle and motive ; but 
 still above it stands that highest of all, the life of faith, the 
 spiritual life, in which the unseen is realized, in which God's 
 presence is acknowledged as the great reality, and his will 
 as the one guide, and his friendship as the highest blessing ; 
 in which the commandaicnt is kept out of love, and the law 
 is observed because the child recognizes in it the voice of 
 the Father. This life of divine communion, of exalted fel- 
 lowship with God, of " righteousness by faith," is the high- 
 est and the best. It is that to which we are called in 
 Christ. 
 
 Have we in any wise attained to it ? Arc some of us 
 still mere servants in the house — not children ? servants to 
 whom obedience is difficult and work hard ? Are some not 
 even at this stage, but still sunk in selfish indulgence, or in 
 utter worldliness of spirit and of aim ? If so, let us remem- 
 ber that for all " the time is short," and we have far to go, 
 ere we can attain to the measure of the perfect man in 
 Christ. Let us not stay so far away from him that we shall 
 never be able to reach him at all ; whom to know is eternal 
 life, whom to serve is perfect freedom : and to whom be all 
 glory in the Church, world without end ! Amen. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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