;OPY, t6bJ. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap, ipyrignt ^o. ShelfjtElSii-SGl UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE CROWN LOST AND RESTORED BURDETT HART, I). 1)., Author of "' Biblical Epochs. "' <; Studies of the Model Life.'" "Aspects of Heaven.'' -'Always Upward" BOSTON £be pilgrim fl>rees CHICAGO 1899 or congress! ^S«lKOTO«rl *fr* 1^0 32405 y 0' MAY 2 1899 A two co°if » -*=c;iveo. / do the <£burcb of ubiety fye tras oroaineo the pastor ftfty^ttyree years a 9° anb of robicl} by tr>t]ose courtesy be is ttotu the pastor (Emerttus tbjs Dolume is affectionately ittscribeb by tbe Ctutbor. CONTENTS ' I. The Discrowning of Man II. The Christian's Coronation . III. Endlessness of Christ's Love . -* IV. Conditions of Belief V. Particularity of Christ's Messsage VI. Vicarious Suffering .... VII. For Memorial Day .... VIII. For Upbuilding of the Church IX. Power of the Church X. Our Forefathers .... XI. Ruth, An Example for Young Disciples XII. The Ornament of Woman . . XIII. Work of Woman .... XIV. Present Blessedness of Christians ** XV. Untarnished Discipleship XVI. The Desire to See Jesus XVII. Light at Evening .... XVIII. This Ministry PAGE 9 25 43 63 81 99 119 133 ^7 S 199 213 227 243 259 2 75 291 30 5 THE DISCROWNING OF MAN "The crown is fallen from our head: Woe unto us! for we have sinned. r — Lame?itations 5 :i6. Delivered in Central Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia. THE DISCROWNING OF MAN At first man possessed a limited regality. Dominion was given unto him. Nature, through- out its animate tribes, and partly within its inani- mate realm, recognized him as its lord. For him the seasons revolved, seed-time and harvest came in their appointed place, the sunshine and the shower bathed the world, and all things were " in excellent order, peace, and beautiful harmony." To him, as to a monarch, the earth, the air and the waters yielded their tribute, and his revenue was royal. With erect form, with noble front, with the port of a prince, he moved in his wide domain, with no one to dispute his title or to deny him homage. God had put the crown upon his head. Man was king ! Then the world was in tranquillity. That was the Golden Age, the fair and happy past, of which the poets sang, whose return is a burden of prophecy. Then the angels descended among IO THE DISCROWNING OF MAN men, and the Lord God walked with his peaceful children. How long this golden period lasted we can only conjecture. We know that the tempter invaded Eden and that sin robbed man of his glory and his joy. The . harmony of nature was broken. The peaceful concord was interrupted. Anarchy and confusion and evil prevailed in Paradise. The angels turned mournfully away and spread their wings in retreat, while emissaries of sin prowled in the bowers which they had frequented. God and man were no more in unison. There was ter- ror in the voice of the Father. The crown was fallen from man's head : woe was upon him, for he had sinned. My subject is, — The Discrowning of Man. I. We may consider it in respect to bodily excellences. As he came from the hand of his Maker the first man was perfect. All his physi- cal endowments were of prime order. He was erect, muscular, graceful, strong. Dignity and sweetness were combined in the expression of his face, over which rose the dome in which is the seat of the mind. He was capable of work, and found enjoyment in it. Every pulse beat with vigor ; every heart-throb was full and sturdy. Pie was made for life : made to live and to live on in enjoyment and with health. THE DISCROWNING OF MAX II Had he stood in his original uprightness he would have lived forever in perpetual youth and robust manliness. As it was, it took a long time to reduce the life of man to its present term : the first generations lived for nearly a thousand years, in wanton strength, braving the Almighty in their fierce incontinence, and wasting their powers in lavish lust. There were giants in the earth in those days, men of stalwart frame and impetuous passions, who filled the world with tumult and transgression, grim and gory Goliaths, great in crime, robust witnesses of the fearfulness of the fall. Sin interrupted the health and broke the vigor of the body. Pain, disease, languor, feebleness, thenceforward were its heritage. Wearing toil and trouble were to be the costly price of success. The curse came upon the body. What have we seen since? The eye that looked upon the forbidden fruit has been blinded ; the hand that plucked that fruit has been palsied ; the heart that lusted for it has been riven. The thorn and the thistle have pierced the wounded flesh ; the worn laborer has panted and fainted in exhaus- tion ; the tired invalid has tossed in miserable unrest; whole trains and tribes of diseases have invaded the human system, attacking it in all its functions and piercing it through and through with sharp pains ; sorrows have broken upon 12 THE DISCROWNING OF MAN human hearts as the surges of the sea break upon its coasts; and death, in terrible throes, has hurled the soul and body asunder. Mankind has had a hard experience, even in the line of physical suffering. Every limb has been put to torture. Every sensitive nerve has been made a telegraphic line of pain. The weight of their woe has bent the frame so that men have gone bowed like bulrushes. Hospitals have been crowded with disfigured patients. One of the learned professions, employing the time and tact of trained practitioners, is devoted to the stud}' and relief of bodily ills. The head is sick ; the heart is diseased ; the whole man is covered with wounds. There are pangs at birth ; there are agonies in living ; there are throes in dying. And this is man who stood forth so royally at creation, in perfect organism, in noble dignity, in the glow and glory of wondrous life ! Surely the crown is fallen from his head. Woe unto him that he has sinned ! One would look far to find a nobler company of men than are the peers of England. In them is the blood of long lines of distinguished ancestry. There are forms and features expressive of cultured minds. There are men who tower above their fel- lows not more in physical endowments than in the graces and accomplishments of a true refinement. THE DISCROWNING OF MAX 1 3 They are nobles. Yet they are not what all men would have been in bodily excellences it sin had been unknown. Every proud peer may have the experience of pain and writhe as a helpless sufferer. 2. This discrowning respects the dominion over the world. Man was at first largely its master. God gave him authority to subdue the earth and invested him with dominion over every living thing that moved upon it. The wide creation was to minister to him and manifold life was to serve him. As the experiment did not go forward far, it is left to our imagination only to picture the progress and power of this race. Endowed with sovereignty, man would have controlled the elements and wrought out a civilization that would have been sublime. We wonder now at the works of early times. We tread with awe the silent streets of a buried Nineveh ; or sail over the sunken shafts and col- umns and massive blocks which once adorned and enriched commercial Tyre ; or gaze on the Titanic works of ancient Egypt, whose ruins are magnifi- cent ; or admire the later art of Athens and the glory of old Rome. We cease to wonder at the achievements of modern science. It has abridged distance and annihilated time ; it has given voice to the silent rocks ; it has measured the limitless 14 THE DISCROWNING OF MAN heavens with a span ; it has launched upon the deep a ship capable of conveying a city within its hulk, which sways with graceful dignity to the everlasting pulsation of the sea and moves victori- ously to its port. Yet these, and such as these, are the works of the discrowned man. Now, nature treats him as a rival, often as an enemy. He is in conflict with the beasts of the field, which match their strength and skill with his. He is a rebel and all things are rebellious against him. He contends with reptiles and brutes for even a home in the world. The sun and the storm strive to make him an out- cast, parching the earth into deserts or sweeping away its products as with the strokes of an aven- ger. He is no longer the world's ruler. Lisbon wails from its gaping earthquakes ; buried Pompeii lifts up its smothered cry from beneath the ashes and lava which have whelmed its gay and guilty people ; Goldau laments for its fair and virtuous inhabitants buried in a common grave; coral floors and halls of the sea send up their requiem for sunken navies and merchantmen ; gloomy jungles are grim with the bleached skeletons of men torn by beasts ; here and there the lightning and the tornado have left their fearful path ; all showing that the earth is in no mood to acknowl- edge its subjection. THE DISCROWNING OF MAN I 5 If man, with these odds against him, has done so much in art, in architecture, in science, in good learning, in affairs, so that imposing monuments everywhere attest his achievements, what might he not have done with his dominion preserved and asserted? Now, ruins, the broken memorials of what has been, are the most decisive proofs of the greatness of the mortal architect. The crown is fallen from the head, and the earth shares in the woe of man. The whole crea- tion groans and travails in pain together until now. The earth is waiting in patience for its lord, for the time when this lost sovereignty shall be regained. 3. We may trace this discrowning in the realm of mental endowments. At first, not only were these of a noble rank, for man was made but a little lower than the angels, they were also worthily employed. The intellect was clear and strong, the affections were pure and holy, the will was right. The mind was royal. It sat as king on an undisputed throne. It was in perfect harmony with God. It saw things as he saw them. It was in the image of the divine Father. It was loyal, true, free from fault, growing in knowledge and in every excellence. And what a future opened before it ! Heights of vision, of power, of blessedness, invited its ascent. So it might have gone on, without a hindrance, without a stain, 1 6 THE DISCROWNING OF MAN nearer to God forever. The growth of a sinless mind is one of the sublimest things of which we can conceive. To it come serene and grand thoughts ; in it well up loving and broad affections ; from it proceed pure purposes and holy activities. All littleness, all meanness, all low indulgences are forever absent from such a mind. It takes in the warm sunshine of the divine favor and all healthful growths spring up and flourish and mature within it. But now, what a ruin is there ! I do not speak of those minds merely in which the reason is dethroned, of lunatics who gibber and mumble in cells and in the wards of hospitals, of idiots whose vacant stare tells of the emptiness within. But I speak of all minds that have swung loose from obligation, of the race in its sinfulness which is the mother of disorder and derangement. Anarchy and revolt have taken the place of peace and loyalty. The crown is fallen, . and rebellion riots in the palace of the mind. Woe unto us that we have sinned ! All is downward, not toward the earth alone, but toward the deeper depths, toward the deep damnation of perdition, the fathomless abyss of despair. This is the vandal work of sin. The metropolis of thought, to which came up the loaded caravans from distant regions of wealth and productiveness ; to which thronged ships from ports across restless seas, laden with the THE DISCROWNING OF MAN 1 7 spoils of warriors and with the products of labor, to which journeyed men of learning, great artists and pious priests, ambassadors of empires and princes of the blood, has been sacked and pol- luted by the hosts of sin, its cathedrals have been burned with fire and its palaces leveled to the dust. The world of matter, in all its gloomy desola- tions, in the sack of temples and the overthrow of cities, presents nothing so dreadful as the ruins of mind. The genius of history weeps at the loss of the Alexandrian library, by which the gathered trophies of ancient learning were swept into obliv- ion in a day ; but a single mind, thrown from its orbit and projected into the whirl and darkness of sin, is a far sadder loss. We lament the destruc- tion of the choice works of ancient art, whose broken fragments, rescued from the wave and the rubbish, are the admiration of all students, in which might have been given to us the form and features of the men who made history, but far more lamentable is the waste and the perdition of the souls that were gifted, souls that might have been great in achievement and immortal in goodness. The downfall of a man is more than the downfall of an empire. The latter can be repaired and a nobler empire take its place made wise by the ruin of the former; but there is no repair or recov- ery of a soul that is lost forevermore. 20 THE DISCROWNING OF MAN scepter passed from his hands ; so the woe of depravity enshrouded him in its gloom and wretchedness. It is pitiful to see such downfall. About a century ago there was one who rose from a humble rank with imperial strides to the throne of the most warlike and gallant of the nations. Power came spontaneously to his hands. His victorious legions were successful on all battle-fields and against all armies. He gave away crowns with royal generosity. He brought to his gorgeous capital the treasures of conquered lands, and enriched his palaces with the chief works of art. The enthusiasm of his people for their hero rose beyond all precedent. The hum- blest conscript was devoted to his fortunes. At times it seemed as though he were to realize the wild dream of universal empire. Formidable combinations against him dissolved at the magic of his sword. His name thrilled through con- tinents. From that he fell. Almost alone, on a barren rock, dashed on every side by the billows, he was doomed to weary years of exile ; and there he fretted his great life away, watched by the sleep- less eye of his enemy, and forgotten by the friends who had shared his successful fortunes. It was force alone that made that emperor yield up his crown. More than three centuries ago, a monarch, in THE DISCROWNING OF MAN 2 1 the midst of life, with crowns and coronets on his head and in his hands, laid down his royalty and stepped from an imperial throne into the retire- ment of a secluded monastery. He was born to the throne, and before he was of age he wore the regal mantle. On many battle-fields he proved himself the foremost warrior of the time, and his kingdom widened and grew upon his hands until the sun went not down upon his realm. For forty years he had accustomed himself to the exercise of power, until the atmosphere of the court and the camp was necessary to his life. Yet he left it all, and with pale face passed his scepter to another. In his soul he felt himself unequal to his burdens. His day of triumph had passed and quick reverses were dashing his dreams. He fled to the shadows of the mountains and the dull society of monks from fear of calamity that was hounding him. More than fifteen centuries since one of the ablest emperors of Rome abdicated the throne and retired to his palace by the seashore, where, amidst his extensive and productive gardens, he found repose, and cherished no regret. But there has been no discrowning like the first. All others have only changed the externals of the parties concerned ; the men have remained the same. But this changed both what was external and what was internal as well. It overthrew the THE DISCROWNING OF MAN 2 1 the midst of life, with crowns and coronets on his head and in his hands, laid down his royalty and stepped from an imperial throne into the retire- ment of a secluded monastery. He was born to the throne, and before he was of age he wore the regal mantle. On many battle-fields he proved himself the foremost warrior of the time, and his kingdom widened and grew upon his hands until the sun went not down upon his realm. For forty years he had accustomed himself to the exercise of power, until the atmosphere of the court and the camp was necessary to his life. Yet he left it all, and with pale face passed his scepter to another. In his soul he felt himself unequal to his burdens. His day of triumph had passed and quick reverses were dashing his dreams. He fled to the shadows of the mountains and the dull society of monks from fear of calamity that was hounding him. More than fifteen centuries since one of the ablest emperors of Rome abdicated the throne and retired to his palace by the seashore, where, amidst his extensive and productive gardens, he found repose, and cherished no regret. But there has been no discrowning like the first. All others have only changed the externals of the parties concerned ; the men have remained the same. But this changed both what was external and what was internal as well. It overthrew the II THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION " Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of right- eousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give to me at that day : and not only to me, but also to all them that have loved his appearing.' 11 — 2 Timothy 4:8. At Calvary Church, Philadelphia. 2 8 THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION of Rome that he projected his great work of the Decline and Fall. There was a magic in those silent and dreary emblems which summoned before him the scenes and persons of the past. He saw the forum once vocal with Roman eloquence, the temples once hallowed with Roman worship, the coliseum once crowded with Roman spec- tators, and the streets and the dwellings once full of Roman life, springing into reality. Again the senate sat and the voices of Rome's great orators were heard. Again the conquering legions poured along the broad highways, returning from victo- ries to their triumphal welcome home. Again the old men and women, the young men and maidens, mingled in the festivals and filled the city with the tides of life. Again uprose stately column and capital, and walls that had long been prostrate, adorned anew by architects and crowded with the noble statuary of artists. He had only to follow the suggestions of what he saw lying grandly and gloomily around him to rebuild and people the seven-hilled city and to live back its historic life. So as we look on the moral ruins of the race, on powers prostrate and perverted, on souls hurled from their places of light and beauty, on minds deranged and chained to earth that might have trooped upward like angels to the throne, on a dominion that is lost, on forms torn and suffering and bent under the burden of sin, on clashing II THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION " Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of right- eousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give to me at that day : and not only to me, but also to all them that have loved his appearing.' 1 — 2 Timothy 4:8. At Calvary Church, Philadelphia. 2 8 THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION of Rome that he projected his great work of the Decline and Fall. There was a magic in those silent and dreary emblems which summoned before him the scenes and persons of the past. He saw the forum once vocal with Roman eloquence, the temples once hallowed with Roman worship, the coliseum once crowded with Roman spec- tators, and the streets and the dwellings once full of Roman life, springing into reality. Again the senate sat and the voices of Rome's great orators were heard. Again the conquering legions poured along the broad highways, returning from victo- ries to their triumphal welcome home. Again the old men and women, the young men and maidens, mingled in the festivals and filled the city with the tides of life. Again uprose stately column and capital, and walls that had long been prostrate, adorned anew by architects and crowded with the noble statuary of artists. He had only to follow the suggestions of what he saw lying grandly and gloomily around him to rebuild and people the seven-hilled city and to live back its historic life. So as we look on the moral ruins of the race, on powers prostrate and perverted, on souls hurled from their places of light and beauty, on minds deranged and chained to earth that might have trooped upward like angels to the throne, on a dominion that is lost, on forms torn and suffering and bent under the burden of sin, on clashing THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 29 interests and passions all at war, on the turmoil and woe of men, we feel the shock of the fall and the scroll of a dark history unrolls before us. There is an aspect of the ruin of what was once great and good. The crown is fallen from a regal head ; woe is unto us that we have sinned ! United with this, separable from it, though mingled with it like the warp and woof of a fabric, is the aspect of restoration. The view of the world is not all dark. Light beams amidst the shadows. There are tones of pure melody thrilling through the discords. As in old Oriental ruins, amidst heaps of rubbish, there will now and then flash out the light of a precious stone telling of the wealth and nobility that once were there, so with all that is dark in our discrowned humanity, we may see some brightness, the relic of our earliest past, the prophecy of our brighter future. The costly gems of the crown, flung loosely in its fall, can be regained and wrought into a more regal coronet. The Scriptures are full of the prophecy of a restoration. They tell us, in varied speech, of a crown that is to be worn by redeemed man. The old royalty is to be regained. The lost dominion is to be acquired again. The prince who has been outlawed, who has been driven far from his ancestral towers and whose enemies have hunted him from land to land, is to return welcomed by 32 THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION been and others had risen in a corresponding ratio. The throne within him was more than the throne without. And such is the change wrought by religion. It infuses royal ideas into the mind. It gives its possessor self-control and the dignity of noble character. The greatest king is he who has the sublime mastery of himself. The monarch of millions may be less royal than many of his subjects. It is not titles, nor crown jewels, nor the purple robe, can give to any one true kingship. There is a higher coronation. It is the enthronement of the man's own self : so that he is no longer as a slave, so that he no longer wears a yoke of subjection to any low indulgence or passion, so that pure and worthy motives meet response within him, so that he is brought into the company and communion of regal souls to whom belongs the kinghood of the ages. Such a man is a crowned monarch. No visible hand may have placed upon his brow the gemmed coronet. From no consecrated per- son may he have received the benediction that is accorded to kings. Through no line of royal ancestors may have descended to him the scepter that he is to wield. No plaudits of admiring mul- titudes may have announced his coronation. But he walks the world every inch a king. He has met himself and conquered, and there is thence- THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 29 interests and passions all at war, on the turmoil and woe of men, we feel the shock of the fall and the scroll of a dark history unrolls before us. There is an aspect of the ruin of what was once great and good. The crown is fallen from a regal head ; woe is unto us that we have sinned ! United with this, separable from it, though mingled with it like the warp and woof of a fabric, is the aspect of restoration. The view of the world is not all dark. Light beams amidst the shadows. There are tones of pure melody thrilling through the discords. As in old Oriental ruins, amidst heaps of rubbish, there will now and then flash out the light of a precious stone telling of the wealth and nobility that once were there, so with all that is dark in our discrowned humanity, we may see some brightness, the relic of our earliest past, the prophecy of our brighter future. The costly gems of the crown, flung loosely in its fall, can be regained and wrought into a more regal coronet. The Scriptures are full of the prophecy of a restoration. They tell us, in varied speech, of a crown that is to be worn by redeemed man. The old royalty is to be regained. The lost dominion is to be acquired again. The prince who has been outlawed, who has been driven far from his ancestral towers and whose enemies have hunted him from land to land, is to return welcomed by 32 THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION been and others had risen in a corresponding ratio. The throne within him was more than the throne without. And such is the change wrought by religion. It infuses royal ideas into the mind. It gives its possessor self-control and the dignity of noble character. The greatest king is he who has the sublime mastery of himself. The monarch of millions may be less royal than many of his subjects. It is not titles, nor crown jewels, nor the purple robe, can give to any one true kingship. There is a higher coronation. It is the enthronement of the man's own self : so that he is no longer as a slave, so that he no longer wears a yoke of subjection to any low indulgence or passion, so that pure and worthy motives meet response within him, so that he is brought into the company and communion of regal souls to whom belongs the kinghood of the ages. Such a man is a crowned monarch. No visible hand may have placed upon his brow the gemmed coronet. From no consecrated per- son may he have received the benediction that is accorded to kings. Through no line of royal ancestors may have descended to him the scepter that he is to wield. No plaudits of admiring mul- titudes may have announced his coronation. But he walks the world every inch a king. He has met himself and conquered, and there is thence- THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 33 forth no other foe so formidable. He who is mas- ter of himself is master of all others. There is no force can subdue him who is victor of himself. The greatest empire is that whose imperial bound- aries are the man's own circumference. There are no territorial lines that can include and confine the measure of a single soul. The greatest emperor may be baser than the lowest serf within his realm. Some humble serf may rank him in the heraldry of princes. It is not outward pomp and rank can ennoble mind. Royalty is within ; its banners are good and holy works. The emperor may be base in mind, held in thraldom by imperious passions and degrading habits ; the serf may be noble in thought and feel- ing and free purpose, in all but the mere outward place and pomp. Who would not prefer the crown of the latter to that of the former? The king in Christ Jesus has self-dominion. Once he was a slave. Now he has prison cells for the traitors who rise up within the palace of his own mind, and they are thrust down there and held there. He who can walk the world in this freedom is the anointed one, is king by divine right. He dwells in a palace built by no human hand ; his courtiers are high thoughts and pure motives ; his executive is the loyal and unconquerable will. This is royalty ; not that which rests on the huz- 3 34 the CHRISTIAN'S coronation zas of a fickle populace, but on the election of a soul that God has made immortal. 2. The Christian is crowned by virtue of his regal possessions. He has no limited empire, with the territories of rivals and enemies bordering his own who may invade and enslave him. Some great conquerors have been fascinated by the dream of universal empire. How vain the dream ! One such died after a debauch, lamenting that he could gain no more ; another fell by the daggers of assassins ; another met his solitary fate on a barren rock in mid-sea. Religion realizes this ideal. The possession of the world is restored in Christ. And not this alone, but all worlds become the inheritance of the saints. Says the apostle, "All things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come ; all are yours." We gain more in Christ than we lost in Adam. We lost one world ; we gain the universe. We lost one crown ; we gain another far more brilliant. We receive tribute from all worlds. The past, with its wealth of experience, with its history of martyrs and its bold testimony of prophets and confessors, with its revolutions, its sufferings, its science, its psalms and hymns, the soul-gushings of heroes and of seers, is all for us. For us the world stands, loaded with its immortal freight, yet THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 35 burning with pent-up fires that flame and roar for outlet. For the Christian is to be the future, bright with promise, holy with its universal love. He is to sit with Christ on his throne ; a joint-heir with the divine Son to the kingdom that has no limits. His empire is universal. Such regal possessions dwarf the kingdoms and estates of this world. 3. This coronation admits to royal society. In common opinion, there is a divinity that hedges round a king. Royal blood is considered as rather better blood than that which runs in ordinary veins. It certainly has been more bloody. Regal families dwell apart. Few can gain access to them. The old hereditary mon- archs carry a disdainful air and tone toward those who have risen from the vulgar level to thrones. Cromwell was stigmatized as a parvenu, and so were the Napoleons. Nothing but their power unbarred for them the palaces of their neighbors. When Cromwell was dead, his body was dug up and hung ; when he was living, his imperial arms brought pliant ambassadors to his court from most powerful states. The Napoleons had con- ferences and visits with monarchs who would have frowned them out of their presence if they had dared. The new birth of the soul makes one a heredi- tary king. His heraldry is most regal. His an- $6 THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION cestry is divine. His fraternity is that of right royal souls. The loftiest and purest society is freely open to him. The really great of this world are his best friends, and they invite his presence with fraternal affection. The kings in thought, in purpose, in holy achievement, the foremost men in learning, in benevolence, in charity, whose names are more enduring than brass, or the marble that commemorates royal deeds, the saints of all ages, laureled poets, ordained priests, crowned princes, these are his peers. He has daily audience, too, with the King of kings, not with the dread of the suppliant of old, not with the sense of remoteness and coldness, but as a son with a father, as a friend with a friend. He is a son of God. The royalty of heaven is his. 4. There is the enthronement of God in the renewed man. Sin, while it banished man from paradise, banished God also from man. He was shut out from the human soul, and that wonderful organism, which had been illumined with divine light, became dark. Man was alone in his rebel- lion ; he was, in most suggestive phrase, without God. But the restoration by Christ brings God back again. It unites the soul and its Maker. It places the king on his rightful throne. God and man are at one. Here is the true regality. Man is not himself when he is separated from the Godhead. His powers work normally only THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 37 when they work in the divine will. Their action is earthly when man lives apart ; it is heavenly when he lives in God, and when God lives in him. There should be but one supreme will in all the universe. All other wills should glide into that and work in unison with it. It belongs to us, as the highest law of our life, the disregard of which leaves us dead, to know no will but God's. Our life should come from him. We should, as a per- manent, all-controlling decision of the whole mind, elect God as our all, in whom and for whom we are to live. That endows us with a divine life. Our sustenance is from God, and the whole move- ment of our being is in perfect harmony with his. More and more he takes possession of us, living out his pure agency through us. So God is enthroned in the Christian. He lives, because God lives in him ; he reigns, be- cause God reigns in him. He thus sits down with Christ on his throne ; he is one with the world's King, and his coronation is divine. To such king- hood does the restoration exalt the renewed be- liever. And, as the sovereignty of Christ is real- ized most fully in heaven, it is there that the final and perfect coronation of the Christian is to be witnessed. Here he is a king in disguise. But he is to be recognized and crowned hereafter. He is to come like a conqueror to Zion. An eternal weight of glory is to be given to him. I appoint 38 THE christian's coronation unto you, said our Lord, a kingdom as my father hath appointed unto me ; that ye may sit on thrones. When the son of man shall sit on the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon thrones. If children, then heirs ; heirs of God and joint- heirs with Christ. The praises of that world shall be given, as the Revelation tells us, unto Him that loved us and hath made us kings and priests, unto God and his Father. There have been many majestic assemblages, when the crowns of ancient kingdoms and empires have been placed upon anointed and consecrated heads. Nobles of the realm, the venerable digni- taries of the state and of the Church, ambassadors of foreign powers, great scholars, the beauty of peerless women, the pomp of military pageantry, and the charm of music, have united to give splen- dor and glory to the event. But earth has wit- nessed nothing so imposing and beautiful as the coronations of heaven. Its inhabitants are. the elect of earth, the elite of all lands and ages, the loyal and holy angels of God. Amongst these, in the midst of such august and holy assemblages, are the sons of God to receive the investiture of their undecaying crowns. There have been restorations in secular history. Five centuries and a half before the Christian era, after a captivity of seventy years, the conqueror of Babylon sent forth a herald throughout his realms 39 to proclaim a return of all the people of the God of heaven to their own land. From Babylon and from other cities of the East, in great caravans, the Hebrew exiles, with their camels and horses and beasts of burden, took up their march for the sacred hills of Palestine. For four months they traveled on, and then, with psalms and cymbals and exulting shouts, they ascended the summits of Jerusalem, and reared an altar to the living God, amidst the ruins of the ancient temple. Joyful was that restoration of the Hebrews to their estates and worship. Two hundred years ago a proud pageant was enacted in old England. On the white beach of Dover, amidst the acclaim of the immense multi- tude who thronged to receive him, landed the exiled king of England. For years he had been a stranger to his throne and an outlaw from his realm. But the people had called back their monarch. Nobles who had remained loyal, scarred soldiers who had followed the standards of the Protector, statesmen and people, vied to do him honor. Banners waved. Cannon thundered forth their welcome. Bells rang out the joy of the nation. Songs, flowers, shouts, tears, ex- pressed the popular heart. All the way from the sea to the capital the road was hedged with masses of the people, all wearing a look of glad- ness. London was alive with joy. The king 40 THE CHRISTIAN S CORONATION entered that old city like a conqueror, in triumph. Old men had never seen such a tide of enthusiasm. The streets, every window and balcony, the spires of churches and the roofs of houses, teemed with loyal men and happy women. The intoxication of gladness and gratitude was contagious and uni- versal. Never did crowned king receive a more spontaneous and popular ovation. This event is known in history as the Restoration. Forty-five years ago an analogous scene was witnessed in the rival nation across the chan- nel. Bursting from his exile at Elba the dis- crowned emperor landed on the shore of France. The mountaineers of Dauphine hailed his return. His old soldiers, sent out to apprehend him, rushed from their ranks, prostrated themselves at his feet, and with mingled tears and shouts wel- comed him as their emperor. Resistance was in vain. The great marshals of the empire ranked themselves in his favor, and the army, wild with enthusiasm, joined their fortunes to those of the greatest soldier of the age. With characteristic impetuosity he flew on to Paris, where he was received with unbounded manifestations of exulta- tion. Crowds of officers and soldiers filled the palace court, on whose uplifted arms he was borne within the historic walls of the Tuileries, where beauty and bravery joined in greeting his arrival. Again the emperor wore the diadem of France. THE CHRISTIAN'S CORONATION 4 1 Feebly can these scenes, and such as these, in history, represent to us the restoration of the soul and its final coronation. They were scenes of a day, swept from sight with the swift progress of events. But the blessed crown of the Christian is enduring. It will shine when the jewels of all human coronets have paled and turned to dust. It will grow more brilliant and more precious as eternity moves on. We are not, then, to turn despondingly back to the glory that we have lost and to pine for the shattered crown of our first father ; rather we are diligently to win that crown of righteousness which the Lord will give unto all those who love his appearing. Ill THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE Having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end. — John 13 : 1. At Installation in Congregational Church, Vine- land, N. J., Sept., 1872, THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE The love that endures is most worthy, is, in fact, the only love that is worth having. The affection that gushes like a geyser, steaming away in hot spurts and shooting upward with imposing effect for twenty minutes, is of no practical account and is not really anything great as an exhibition. Friendship is a principle as well as a passion. It is based on character. It is built up like a wall of granite, of shapely blocks, squarely matched, to stand through storms, through changes, through convulsions. Time does not destroy it, but only gives it solidity. Other prin- ciples or passions do not supplant it; amidst them it endures, retaining its early characteristics. Just here we might distinguish the true friend- ship from its counterfeit. The semblance is weak and transient and easily ended ; the true abides, holding its own as the years pass and the revolutions occur and the orbits of human thought 46 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE change. A selfish love ends with the occasion that excited it. A true love waxes stronger in trial and survives misfortune and remains when other things are lost. I have said, a selfish love, I should have said, a selfish passion ; for love is unselfish; it sacrifices for its object; it remits its own choices and pleasures for another's welfare and gratification ; it finds its purest delight in the happiness of the loved one. That friendship which is exacting and selfish is short-lived, as it ought to be. The friendship that is generous and sacrificial is enduring and noble. In that sweet- est story of Hebrew friendship, the monarch's son, the regal heir of the kingdom, puts even the crown upon the head of his friend. Love could feel no loss. In touching elegy, at his early dying, his fortunate friend memorized his wonderful affection : " Thy love to me was wonderful, pass- ing the love of women." And in the renowned story of Grecian friendship, death was not too strong a test; the utter willingness of one to die for the other broke the tyrant's heart. Love could do what power could not do. The real friendship lasts ; it lasts up to the line that divides the seen from the unseen ; it lasts beyond, into the unseen, but real ; in the realm of widest thought and purest affection, where acquaintance is brotherhood and union is eternal. We have felt its thrill hard on the confines of THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 47 heaven, as we have gone close to mysteries with those who were leaving us, as hands have unclasped ours to take hold of the hands of angels. The love of the lifetime, grown strong in the experiences which have been shared together, hallowed by trial, gladdened by common joys, has been fullest and ripest as the earth-life has ended, has glowed with warmest tenderness and devotion amidst the sinking of the bodily and mental faculties, as the greatest glory of the day gathers in crimson and golden flames around the sinking sun. We cannot doubt its continuance beyond, where our eyesight does not reach, but where our soul-sight pierces, in realms that are real though unknown, peopled by those who were with us, and are still of us, our kindred by closest relationship, one with us by common, sacred blood, and with whom we soon shall be. For the friendship that endures rests in the common love to Christ. All else ends. The friendship in noble pursuits, as in the researches of science, in the lore of letters, in the problems of statecraft, in whatever is essentially of the earth, must become only a memory when the earth and the works of it shall be burned up. But the love that is in Christ centers in him and endures with him and is eternal. It has the qualities of his love. " As I have loved you, that ye also love one another." " That the love wherewith thou hast loved me 48 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE may be in them, and I in them." Christ's love lasted. It survived his fortunes and their fortunes, all that was propitious, all that was untoward, the hail to kingship, the hurrying to crucifixion, their following, their flight. Through all it beamed on, as steadily as the light of a fixed star. " Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them unto the end." My subject is: The Endlessness of Christ* s Love. In his tender and affectionate references to his Father he often made mention of the wonderful love that subsisted between them. He speaks in comparison, " As the Father hath loved me." And he would live and act, "That the world may know that I love the Father." As though his pur- est happiness were there he says, "I . . . abide in his love." And through all the woe of his earthly life, remained the untold comfort that he should " go to the Father." In the solitariness of his work he was not alone, "because the Father is with me." In the absorbing earnestness of his remarkable prayer for his disciples, in which he moves the paternal heart in their behalf by the urgency of their common love, he says, " For thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world." This expression carries the thought back into the eternity that was, before the creations began. Then, in all the countless ages, when the blessed, THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 49 infinite Persons of the Godhead were alone, in the glory and perfections of their being, they found the purest happiness in their own society and love. Not a world had rolled out into space, not a crea- ture had been formed and informed with life. Only God was. The universe was full of him alone. Throughout the eternal past, in unbroken, countless milleniums, back beyond all thought of duration the Father and the Son had lived and loved together. For their own happiness the Per- sons of the Godhead needed no creation. In the stillness of the unpeopled space, in the solitariness of their sole being, they were infinitely happy in each other. They were more to each other than all other beings could be to them, though stars should be flung forth through the boundless void and every star be crowded with populations. In that endless past Christ was the dearly beloved of the Father; and the Father was all in all to him. He defines his own place there as " in the bosom of the Father." Phrase full of suggestion ! Here is nearness and dearness, oneness of heart, perfect- ness of love. And so they loved unto the begin- ning. Christ was used to a persistent love. He had loved long and with unchanging steadfastness before he loved his own which were in the world. We cannot, by any experiences of ours, measure the infinite love of these divine Persons ; but per- fect and precious as it was, it did not stand in the 4 50 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE way of the Redeemer's work for man. That work was not hastily decided upon. It belonged to the counsels of eternity. It entered into the whole plan of the world's creating and populating. The Redemption runs back in the thought and purpose of God to the remotest past. He who made the world would save the world. There was an ante- advent love. Christ's coming was only the fulfill- ment of his eternal purpose. There was a long time of waiting and of watch- ing. Not only through those milleniums which slowly passed after sin began its work of desola- tion, but through countless durations before that, was the Lord intent on salvation. When the full- ness of the time should come, he would be ready to be offered. He ever looked forward to his redemptive undertaking as certain to come. Understanding all that was involved in it, he would enter upon and finish it. Love was the underlying principle of redemption. " For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son." And " the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge " moved him to come into the world. From eternity he had thought of his own ; all his other vast plans involved this, that he should die for them ; their redemption, by his own offering, was as certain as the future. It was, then, no new thing, no suddenly devised interposition to stop the woe of sin. It was old. It was older than THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 5 I creation. It runs back of all our numeration. Its origin is in the remote eternity. It was a divine, eternal purpose. When brought, therefore, to actual experience it would stand. Having loved his own which were in the world, he would love them unto the end. He would not abandon them. He would not permit his greatest undertaking to come to nought. It was an eternal purpose which would move on to the end. At last the waiting time was over ; on the world was the advent of its Creator to save it. He came to fulfil the promises which had rolled forth in prophetic utterances ; to fulfil his own divine plan of human rescue. The devotion with which he gave himself for his own assured the endlessness of his love for them. All else gave way to that. All those things that are attractive to all other minds he put away, he did not even stop to con- sider. Power, wealth, learning, influence, success, as men look at them, were not within the scope of his life. He moved along another plane. He held steadily before him another object. These things of the world did not belong to him. He had left heaven on a different errand. He had appeared on the earth as its divine Redeemer. Sin was doing its tragic work and leaving everywhere its terrible tracks. It was spoiling human love. It was hurling the finest minds into wretchedness and ruin. It was laying its withering touch on the 52 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE noblest works of men. It was making the world one vast charnel-house, filled with graves and piled with dead. And Christ came as its Deliverer, leaving heaven and its glory behind and assuming all the burdens and sorrows and sufferings that were necessary in the fulfillment of his mission. He gave him- self to this one work. He was tempted to aban- don it, but temptation had no power over him. He was rejected by those whom he came to save, but their cruel rejection did not turn him aside. He was led forth as a lamb to the slaugh- ter, but he bore his own cross to the place of crucifixion. At one time, marvel of marvels ! the Father for- sook him, but he trod the wine-press alone. On, from the beginning to the fearful end, through all obstacles, against all enemies, under all heavy bur- dens, amidst scorn and sorrow and unutterable anguish at times, he pressed with a fortitude that did not falter and an affection that was infinite. Every place where he toiled and taught became a memorial of his devotion. He lifted Nazareth from its ignoble obscurity to the foremost rank in the thought of the world. Bethlehem gained a greater glory from its association with his name than from its historic fame as a royal city. He invested Samaria with peculiar honor as the Teacher and the Saviour of its despised population. THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 53 Capernaum thrills our hearts with its voices of bane and of blessing, with its works of mercy and its utterances of woe, from the same divine Person, who would wish to save, but who could not fail to forewarn of the evil that was sure to come. Tabor and Olivet and Bethany received a new sacredness from his association with them. Every path on which he traveled through Judaea and Gallilee was thenceforward a sacred way, on which the feet of pilgrims from all lands tread with reverence. The waves of Tiberias and the waters of the Jordan roll evermore as in unceasing anthem to his praise. Jerusalem, city of God, joy of the whole earth, is consecrated more by his tears and precious words, by his benedictions and his agonies, than by the coronations of its kings and the royalties of its thrones and the sacredness of its priesthood and its temples. In every place, in all conditions, one solemn purpose controlled him. His whole life was given for man. The soreness of his own lot did not make him swerve ; no more did the weak- ness and waywardness of his chosen disciples. He put up with denial, he endured betrayal, he went straight on to crucifixion. Calvary became con- secrate in the sacred thought and feeling of the world, and the cross, on which the Redeemer died, became the holy emblem of all that is most pre- cious to men. He loved unto death. He com- mended his love for us in that, while we were yet 54 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE sinners, he died for us. Such love as this can know no end. Furthermore, the achievements of his love — what we have already seen of it — are prophetic of the future union in love of Christ and his own, through a coming eternity. Having loved as he has in this world, he will love in the coming world. Having loved in mortality, he will love in immor- tality. Having loved in weakness, he will love in power. Having loved in dishonor, he will love in glory. Having loved in the bodily life, he will love in the spiritual life. He will greet his own on "the other side." Whatever their earthly homes may have been, however obscure and humble, he will open to them "mansions" there. Some from the toil of slaves, some from the wretchedness of poverty, all from the risks and uncertainties of the earthly service, he will raise to thrones. It is his imperial pur- pose that they shall be with him where he is, that they may behold his glory, that they may share his kingship, that they may unceasingly enjoy his love. Honors and positions here are subject to inevitable reverses. The favorite of to-day may be the outlaw of to-morrow. But the positions of heaven, once gained, are never lost. The crowns of that world are subject to no corrosion. The friendship of Christ is eternal. He will love to the end. The measureless progression of unbounded THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 55 futurities will reach no limit and no diminution of his infinite affection. It will grow by its own use and gratification. As the multiplication of a single planted grain, increasing year by year, in geometrical ratio, will at length cover a continent with its opulent har- vests, so the love of Christ will fill all the eternities with its abounding fullness and make all loyal and loving hearts infinitely and forever glad in their blessed union to him. We know little of the occu- pations and the prerogatives of the heavenly life ; but as Christ's work has made this world blessed and given sweetness to service here and inspired human hearts with song and affluent hope and every grace that is divine, so will it make heaven a happy world to all the saved, and give inspira- tion to every service and every song and every sentiment forever and ever. He who loved to the end here will love his own with an endless affec- tion in that world that shall know no end. This established doctrine of the endlessness of Christ's love is full of the most suggestive encour- agements to us. He loves his own, but not those only. He loves all, and he died for all because he loved them. Between himself and his own is a personal friendship, growing out of the very fact of their acceptance of him and of their union to him. It is the dearest of all relationships. It overpasses the sacred attachments of kindred ; the $6 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE love that unites us in our precious homes to our other selves, to parent, to child, to brother. We cannot measure this love for those with whom we stand for weal or woe, in life or death, for those who have given us birth and for us would give themselves, for the children whose grand immor- talities are lodged within our influence, for those with whom we have grown in stature and in learn- ing and in the world's ways. But in the test times even this gives way to the unspeakable love for the dear Redeemer who ranks immeasurably all other friends. We must put him foremost. The mar- tyrs, dying in scourgings and in flames and in the loss of all things, have spoken the watchword for the centuries, " Christ only." And if those who are not now his own would come to him, in full acceptance of his sincere invitation, they, too, might be embraced in his endless love. But for those who are his, this truth already is full of blessed suggestion and assurance. Accept- ing, fully believing in our hearts, this divine fact of the endlessness of the Redeemer's love, we should recognize the proof of it in the joys and abound- ing blessings of our lives. The springs, mingled in the secret and subtle alchemy of nature, whose clear waters flow in unfailing streams for the health and invigoration of our bodies, are the gift of the Father of all to his tired and worn children. And all our springs of happiness are in Him who is the life of THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 57 our souls. The world is bright because Christ is the light of it. He dwells with us, and so our homes are full of content and love. He walks with us, and, therefore, the way is pleasant. He fills our hearts with happiness, and so the songs that burst from them are songs of gladness. It is right to recognize Christ in all his relations to us. Our blessings do not come in the course of nature, in the ordering of pru- dence, as the gift of friends, so much as they come from Christ. Back of nature and prudence and friendship is Christ. He works in all these for his own. So we should not put the less foremost, but always the greater. The distinction between the Christian and the sinner has been thus expressed : one is grateful for the good received, the other is glad. One discerns Christ and his heart goes out in bounding gratitude to him. The other receives his blessings as coming in the ordinary course of things and his heart is full of gladness. Those lives of saints have been most beaming that have been inspired by this recognition of Christ. They have discerned him whom they have not seen. They have taken every blessing as from the out- stretched hand of a visible Saviour. The crowning sweetness of every cup of joy has been that he gave it. Embracing the truth before us in all its rich- ness and fullness, we should accept the -painful 58 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE discipline of our life as given us also by his love. Religion does not exempt from trial. It some- times seems as though the best had the hardest earthly lot. Certainly the followers of Christ are in tutelage for a higher life. And this involves, possibly necessitates, painful discipline. Were this world all brightness and joyousness, they might lose heaven, might at least lose that place in heaven for which the Master qualifies his own. Whatever comes in this needful trial, comes from him who loves them unto the end. They may endure hardship, prolonged, wearing, nothing going well with them, their plans failing, their hopes turning into ashes and all their way being one of disappointment. This is extreme. But we have seen such saints. Very often it comes to pass that they suffer the loss of earthly treas- ure. By unforeseen calamity, as by fire or flood or the failure of others, the accumulations of years are swept away. Having lived in comfort or in luxury, they are reduced to poverty. Or sickness comes, laying them aside from service, taking them from the ways of business and pleas- ure and usefulness, and confining them to the four walls of a secluded room, where compara- tively alone they must bear the trial. Or, in still heavier affliction, they lose dearest friends, for whom they have lived, for whom they could die, whose being was so enwrapped with their own THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 59 that in the loss all the fibers and textures of their life are torn apart. Under all this experience, they know that they are his own and that he loves them unto the end, and with this assurance they accept his chastening. Said one, " I love the rod. How gentle are the strokes I receive ! How severe those I deserve ! " And one of old, "Though he slay me, yet will I wait for him." The full acceptance of this truth conducts us readily, possibly without our cognizance, to the rest of faith, for which the earnest Christian soul seeks. Let the fact possess us in its superlative meaning that Christ loves us, loves us always, loves us to the end, and we shall take him at his word ; we shall ask him for blessings, as our children ask us, stretching forth the hand to receive even while we ask, expecting the answer while yet we call. We shall trust him at all times, especially in times of straitness and dark- ness, especially when human help fails. We shall trust him fully, for ourselves, for others, for the present, for the future as well, and so for time and for eternity. Such love admits this. Such love requires this. Christ's endless love constrains us to an endless assurance of faith. We shall ask because we believe. And we shall believe that we receive because we ask him. Finally, this truth becoming regnant in our hearts would make us conquerors in the last 60 THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE struggle. There is no thought that has such overcoming power in death as the thought of the love of Christ. Even to the faint-hearted, to those who have through their lifetime been sub- ject to bondage, whose pleasant pathway has been shadowed by the dread of the dark valley, there have come courage and freedom and light as the Saviour has graciously revealed himself to them in the dying hour. He is with his own when they need him most. His strength is for their weakness. He will never, never, never leave them. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. The last words that Luther ever wrote, the day before he died, were, " Verily I say unto you, if a man keep my say- ing, he shall never taste of death." And an hour before his death he prayed, " O my heavenly Father, I thank thee that thou hast revealed in me thy dear Son Jesus Christ, on whom I believe, whom I have preached and confessed, whom I have loved and praised." And his last words were, " Thou hast redeemed me, O God of truth." And when his dearest friend, the gentle Melanc- thon, followed him, the glory of heaven bright- ened around him and to a friend who asked him, " Will you have anything else ? " he joyfully answered, "Nothing else but heaven ! " A member of our church who lately died was asked by her husband, " Do you know who are THE ENDLESSNESS OF CHRIST'S LOVE 6 1 here with you? " And her answer was, " I know that Jesus is here." Her eyes, dimmed to mor- tal sight, discerned the loving Lord. A frail maiden received sudden tidings that her betrothed had been swept by a rushing river beyond the stream of time. She bowed like a bruised reed under the blow too big for tears. Then she lifted her head and said, " My flesh and my heart faileth : but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever." We, my friends, shall not be long apart — they who have gone on before, we who linger a little longer — we shall all, if we are Christ's, parents, children, friends, gather in one delighted com- pany unto our glorious and beloved Saviour. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? . . . For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things pres- ent, nor things to come, nor powers, 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." IV CONDITIONS OF BELIEF If I say truth, why do ye not believe me?" — JoJm 8 : 46. At Grand Avenue Church, New Haven. CONDITIONS OF BELIEF We have fallen on an era of theological dis- order. The old doctrines out of which sturdy character grew are getting roughly handled. The foundations on which the fathers securely builded are reported as weakening and likely to come to disintegration. Those fundamental truths even which have long had evangelical currency, such as the authority of Scripture, the vicariousness of atonement, the eternity of retribution, are not only questioned, but are rejected, as belonging to sys- tems that are effete. The progress of scientific discovery and the immature claims which it has developed have acted on theological thought to its unrest and have awakened a kind of rival sympathy in this different sphere. It would be unfortunate if, after the vagaries of uncertain science shall have kindly given way to theories which are founded on accepted facts, it should be discovered, that, in the unnecessary ferment, Christianity only had permanently suffered in the loss of some of its greatest principles. Transition periods are rela- 5 66 CONDITIONS OF BELIEF tively brief. Truth remains unchanged, whether affirmed or denied. We need to hold to it while the problems of the age are coming to lasting solution ; and to hold to it all the more firmly when anchors that had moored us are dragging. The disorder of faith is not merely affecting those who are leading along the lines of discovery, but it is working among the mass of followers and its disasters are seen in practical, every-day life. It is hard to hold men to the faith as it is set forth in the teachings of Scripture. Proofs, evidences, various and multiplied, on subjects vital to the soul, are not accepted. The plain doctrines of the gospel, the fearful truths of revelation are rejected, and statements, more satisfactory to unrenewed nature, more easy of belief because more harmonious with the feelings, are held and boldly professed. It is not merely that in some quarters there are claims of new revelations as of equal authority with the old Bible, pretended- rev- elations to those whose life and influence convict them as impostors ; but we have now to meet the rejection of Holy Scripture by those who have nothing to substitute for it and who glory in their agnosticism ; and still further we are confronted by those who, nominally accepting the Scripture, give its declarations no practical credence as they go about to find an easier creed and another way of salvation — or of perdition. CONDITIONS OF BELIEF 6j In this debauchment of faith, that we may not let go thoughtlessly of truths which we need, that there may not come such demoralization of opin- ion and practice as to put back in our time the cause for which all times and all providences have contributed, it may be well to consider some of the plain Conditions of Belief. i. Doctrines that plainly honor God are com- mended to our faith. Many religions degrade the divine Being. All forms of paganism make the god only equal to the best, or perhaps less than the worst, of men. " The worshiper, carried through the long avenues of columns and statues and the splendid halls of the ancient temple of the Egyptian Thebes, was conducted at last to a mis- erable termination, when in the inner shrine he found one of the lower animals." A worship that finds its finality in a brute can hardly excite our contempt, so much does it deserve our pity. The old mythologies placed in the seats of the gods personages who were stained with the vices and crimes of those who inaugurated them. Those who accepted their teachings worshiped men only who were more degraded than themselves. Much of the assumed science of our day would utterly dethrone God. It imputes the order of nature to impersonal force. The changes that have been wrought through the ages it would account for by a dominant and universal principle 68 CONDITIONS OF BELIEF of evolution. It finds life in the material atoms. The wide and splendid and manifold phenomena lead back only to law. It sees no need and recog- nizes no evidence of God. So we are thrown back upon blank atheism. This is nothing new. One by one, as the natural sciences have emerged into the realm of thought, they have at first been considered as hostile to Biblical doctrine, but as broader reaches of the facts have been gained, the hostility has disappeared. All science needs to be builded on the broadest possible basis. He who runs into conclusions, as against a personal Creator or the Bible, before he is thoroughly satisfied with his own science, ac- knowledges his own unwisdom. Over and over again has the apothegm of Lord Bacon been veri- fied : "A little philosophy makes a man an atheist. A deeper study of it brings him back to God." The mind is the chief factor in interpretation, whether of Scripture or of nature. The influences which work upon it for evil or for good are often invisible and undetected, and only the result will show whether it was open or closed to all the voices of God, and to all the methods by which he works for the union of the soul to himself. Professedly Christian instructors, too, have fos- tered meager conceptions of God by what they have propounded concerning him. A God who does not look with aversion upon sin, while he CONDITIONS OF BELIEF 69 may pity and seek to save those who commit it, is not a God fit for us. Teachings which represent him as sanctioning practices which are abhorrent to a rightly educated conscience can be safely rejected. The authority of a creed which sets forth God's approval of what good men would consider crimes, or what wise men would consider follies, may well be denied. Our faith is chal- lenged, first of all, by that which honors God. He must be enthroned above human imperfec- tions, with a character whose alpha and omega is holiness. A God countenancing sin, in league with whatever spoils human happiness on the one hand, or diminishes his own purity on the other hand, is not the being for us to worship. Here it is that the God of the Bible outranks the imaginary divinities. Philosophy stands abashed before reve- lation. Here One is made known to us worthy of our regard, our reverence, our love. The Bible honors God : it exalts him to a throne, brilliant, glorious. It never lowers the divinity to us, but draws us up to adore him whose character and whose works are altogether such as to inspire right sentiments in us. 2. Truth, to demand our faith, must be an- nounced through credible and reputable mediums. It would not be consistent with the acknowl- edged character of God for him to employ wicked or contemptible agents to make known to men the JO CONDITIONS OF BELIEF great facts which are vital to their happiness and holiness. Any doctrine therefore which comes to us through such channels may well be set aside as lacking an essential element in the conditions of belief. We may properly demand of him who claims to have a new revelation a palpable, public mira- cle as assurance that he is sent from God. And the miracle must be wrought not in the presence of interested disciples and in the dark, but openly before the multitude. It must be, not a pretended sign, devised for effect on the uninitiated, but a real, benevolent work, witnessed by those who are capable of judging of its genuineness and intent. He who works it must be a good man, with an established character for honesty and uprightness. It is supposable that a man might be in league with the devil and that communications might be received from him which would be strange to those of us who are ignorant of his devices. We must, therefore, demand that revelators shall be worthy of such an office, men whom God would be likely to commission for such an impor- tant duty. They need not be rich men, nor those high in place and power, but they must be good men, whose character is above suspicion. The prophets and apostles, who were inspired by the Holy Spirit, were humble men for the most part, whose personal influence did not spring from their CONDITIONS OF BELIEF 7 1 external position, but whose personal character challenged respect and whose words were therefore with power. But this principle effectually silences our modern revelators, the pretended promulgators of new faiths. In many cases they have not the personal qualities which command even the respect of men, and they are far from being such persons as we should naturally infer the divine Being would select to inform men of truth essential to their salvation. We object to the mediums ; we say that many of them are more likely to be the agents of the devil than of the Deity. Though there may be among them good men, with souls that are easily moved to accept of any new or wonderful thing, yet the foremost of them, in any fair judgment, are not men of God. We therefore scout their assumptions. If we ask for miracles, they are powerless to invoke the interposition of higher laws. Signs fail. The imposture is palpable. Better mediums must be procured before intelli- gence will recognize the authority of the modern setters forth of new doctrine. On this ground the religion of the Bible stands preeminent. They were holy men who were moved by the Holy Spirit. 3. Doctrines in which all the Scriptures har- monize are worthy of our assent. Anything can be made out of detached portions of. the Bible. Any monstrous dogma or heresy can be fortified within isolated paragraphs or texts of Scripture. 72 CONDITIONS OF BELIEF There is a sentence which declares, " There is no God." But it is essentially modified by what pre- cedes it. "Thefoolhath said in his heart, There is no God." The inability of the sinner to obey the commands of God can be gathered from texts like this: ''The mind of the flesh ... is not sub- ject to the law of God, neither indeed can it be." But we learn what kind of an inability it is when we read these words of Christ, " Ye will not come to me, that ye may have life." The fact that Christ died for the elect is plainly taught by some passages, but the doctrine of a limited atonement is utterly overthrown when we bring to bear upon it such passages as these : — " He is the propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only, but also for the whole world;" "That by the grace of God he should taste death for every man." There is a large class of texts which speak of the future de- struction of the wicked, which teach that they shall utterly perish. Some have inferred from this strong language that the finally impenitent are to be annihilated. But another class of texts, which speak of the endless existence of the wicked in a state of consciousness, obliges us to give such mean- ing to the former texts that both shall harmonize. Such a meaning is obvious. As the life of the righteous is eternal well-being, so the destruction or death of the wicked is eternal ill-being. In that meaning all the Scripture harmonizes, and in no CONDITIONS OF BELIEF 73 other. Awful as the truth is, hard as it may be to believe it, we must accept it or reject the Bible. If the Scriptures are authoritative with us, that meaning, in which their combined texts on any subject harmonize, must be received as the truth of God, or else we are afloat on a boundless sea of conjecture and doubt. 4. Truth that bears against ourselves, as ac- countable beings, is probably commended to our belief. Such truth is unpalatable to the unre- newed or the partially sanctified nature. Men like to think well of themselves, and to have others think well of them. They do not like hard doctrines which humble their pride and refute their self-righteousness. They put their morality high, a great deal higher than God does. They enumerate their good deeds with Pharisaic con- tent. They look down on sinners beneath them- selves. Certain texts they would read out of the Bible. They cannot think it will go as hard with them as such passages would indicate. Hence come forms of religionism designed to make it easy for men to go through the world and to meet the issues of probation, to give substitutes for Biblical orthodoxy and godly repentance and humble faith in Christ and a holy, self-denying, cross-bearing life. God's terms are set aside. This may be according to the pleading of human nature, but it is not according to the gospel of 74 CONDITIONS OF BELIEF Christ. The better way is to take the worst possi- ble view of ourselves, or rather, to look at our- selves just as we are, which is very much the same thing, and then seek deliverance. If we are sin- ners, we do not change that fact by calling our- selves saints nor by requiring others to call us so. If the wrath of God abides on us, we shall not shake it off by thanking him that we are not as other men are. If there are truths that bear hard upon us, that show us to ourselves in a bad light, we shall probably not go far amiss if we insert these truths in our creeds. The presump- tion is that the statements do not come up to the reality. The sinner, moved by the Holy Spirit to look at himself as he is, feels that the half has not been told ; his pungent convictions sometimes beget despair. If he gains relief, it is not by thinking any better of himself, but by learning to trust in Christ as a Saviour for the lost. A stupid self-conceit is not an honest judgment of one's self. The Biblical doctrines that humble us, that spoil the self-glory of our hearts, that direct us as lost sinners to the only way of escape, the blood of an atoning Saviour, are those which are most worthy of our acceptance, though their very truthfulness may repel us from them. 5. Those truths should be embraced in our belief which are safe in any event. The possi- bilities should be considered in important de- CONDITIONS OF BELIEF 75 cisions. The statesman in peace will prepare for war. The mariner is best off who has provided for storm. The business man is strong who can bear up under the possible failure of his securities In the great matters of the soul and eternity, when opposing doctrines are presented for credence, it is well to accept those which, if there is room for question, in any event are safe. Take, for illus- tration, the two leading doctrines of the future state of those who go out of this world in unbelief, — first, that the finally impenitent are to be con- signed to misery without end ; secondly, that all men, whatever their character or conduct, are to be at last universally saved. He who accepts the former of these doctrines and acts in the light of it, by flying to Christ as a Saviour from coming wrath, is safe in either event. If all are saved, he is saved; if some are lost, he is not among them. How is it with him who holds the latter and who has no Saviour? What if he has embraced the wrong doctrine? What if the future should be quite otherwise? What if the Bible statement of " torment forever and ever " should prove to be true? He has committed a fatal mistake. He has done himself infinite harm. He has before him a fearful harvest. This should be a primal condition of belief, that those doctrines should be embraced which are safe in any event. It is not a small thing what we believe. God y6 CONDITIONS OF BELIEF will hold us accountable for our beliefs and for the actions which flow from them. Nor is the right faith a difficult matter to gain, if we approach the evidences with the teachable disposition. Great, solemn truths are revealed to us. We are in charge of eternal verities. The science of God and of man, of sin which is lithographed on the globe, and of salvation which is written in the blood of Calvary, of probation and of the endur- ing destinies, is all brought within our cognizance. We have the knowledge of Christ and of his gos- pel, of the blessed fact which steadies the rolling world on its uneasy orbit, that there is salvation for the lost. Life and immortality are brought to light. We know that heaven or hell is before us. Facts large enough and important enough to make our life serious, and our work here momentous, are in our possession. As far as we can judge, they are verified facts. They have entered into the life and history of ages. They belong to man, as responsible and immortal. They are taught by the inspired Word. They are confirmed by human experience. They have been voiced in song and prayer, which have alternately expressed the hope and fear, the penitence and aspiration, of souls. They have not been abandoned in death. And what would the world be without them, and what would man be if he lost faith in them? The babblings that are profane and vain, the oppo- CONDITIONS OF BELIEF JJ sition of science falsely so called, must not rob us of immortal birthrights. We cannot give up these eternal certainties for the guesses of whatever dis- coverer. We cannot let go of a divine hand to grasp we know not what. We cannot degrade ourselves to brutish origin or kindredship, when our aspirations are beyond the skies and to the seats of angels. If the universe had a Creator, and if he impressed his laws upon it and is the governor of that which he wisely made, he challenges our un- doubted allegiance. If in this world of sin, sin so palpable that it stares in our faces even-where, there is a divine redemption so that every lost man may be saved, it were only folly and presumption either to ignore or reject it. We cannot accept charlatanry for Christianity. Xot yet can we throw overboard chart and compass and reckon- ings and commit ourselves to the turbulence of a sea swept by hurricanes and thundering on a coast white with the foam of breakers. We must have something to go by; something that will hold. What is it? Speculation? Uncertain science? Undoubtedly an age of skepticism and material- ism degrades the conditions of belief. Sacredness is at a discount. All things are common and cheap. When the soul is resolved into a breath, and God into a myth, there is no room for conse- cration and no object in effort. The blow that yS CONDITIONS OF BELIEF dethrones God dethrones man. All great things go down together. Life runs to commonplace. A new fascination comes to worldly business, and young and ambitious men feel it. To gain the world, to hold its wealth and the power which wealth gives, to feel that the vast systems of commerce and trade which vex the seas and jar the land are tributary to their plans, and that they are the moneyed kings on whose confidence thrones stand, on whose vote republics succeed in the throes of revolutionary struggle, whose power is greater than that of armies and navies, in whose counting-rooms destiny is dictated, is something wonderfully alluring. The same conditions give an equal, though dif- ferent fascination to the studies of nature. To unlock the palaces that have been closed and guarded for countless ages, to let light in upon their splendors and to stand first of all, first of a line of mind-kings, amidst their regal glories, to hear the majestic minstrelsies, the old choruses, that have reverberated there with no ear to listen ; to discover the laws, ancient as the globe, written by the divine finger on tables of stone laid up there as in arks of testimony; to detect the fine arts of nature, its pictures and sculptures and traceries and tapestries and the consummate grace and glory of its architecture ; to lead the way of exploration through rooms and galleries where no CONDITIONS OF BELIEF /9 human foot has trodden before, possesses a charm which carries brave students through endeavor arid sacrifice. We admire and approbate the steady devotion, the unyielding faith and constancy, of those leaders of thought. The scientific ranks are crowded with noble minds which in every step of their progress win our love. But the questions of responsibility and of destiny are profounder than those of business and of science. We demand the higher estimate for that which affects the soul and reaches through the eternities. We enter a protest against the materialistic tendency «and against the scientific unbelief and against the vice of worldliness. We maintain the enthronement of God and the author- ity of Holy Scripture, and the central place in the world of the cross of Christ. We ask that the tremendous issues of the future shall not be slighted nor travestied nor handed over to blind and unsat- isfactory ignorance. We want those verities which have wrought on human character for the sturdiness and uprightness of our fathers still to be among the active forces of philosophy and society. On the high tablelands of the Andes, among the mountains that tower above Quito, where the old Indian race, driven back from the sea, driven out and back from their ancient seats and capitals, still holds its own in the free air and under the free skies, and within the impregnable fastnesses So CONDITIONS OF BELIEF of the eternal hills, as it is said, lies a gorgeous city which they have builded and maintained, while below and around them the overwhelming tide of conquest has passed. There they have kept their greatest ancestral inheritance. Father to son has transmitted the secret of the rich mines and no one has ever betrayed them. There the old architecture rises in its strange glory, and roofs and battlements glitter with gold and flashing gems. To us has come down a grander inheritance. Shall we as faithfully transmit and guard it, and shall our treasures of thought and love be builded into that city which is lightened by the glory of God? PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE "And Peter, " — Mark 16:7. At Bethlehem, N. H, PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE Christ has a particular message for each soul. It is as though he called each one by name and laid on him, personally, the burden of duty. He has a message for all the world : great man- kind-calls ; comprehensive world-truths ; proclama- tions to all the nations, and for all the ages. He draws the world unto himself. He was the true Light, which lighteth every man coming into the world ; and his invitations and his commands are for all souls. But beside them, he has a word, a special utter- ance, a significant invitation, to each person, adapted to that person more than to any other, holding a meaning for him which it would not exactly hold for any other. "Go, tell his disciples and Pete?'." Peter was one of Christ's earliest and most trusted and intimate disciples, He had been with the Master throughout all his public life. He was one of the three who had been admitted to the greatest intimacy and privacy with our Lord ; be- fore whom Jesus had been transfigured, when his 84 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE face did shine as the sun, and his garments became white as the light; with whom he had gone into the gloom and terror of Gethsemane when his soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death ; who had been suffered to accompany him when he raised from the dead the daughter of the ruler of the synagogue. He had been under the private instruction of the great Teacher, and knew his char- acter and his purposes. His house, on the shore of the lake at Capernaum, had been the rendezvous of the disciples, in which the miraculous power of the Healer had been wonderfully shown. He was a typical Galilaean ; with worldly ambi- tions, fond of change, ready to embark in new en- terprises, susceptible to new impressions, quick to draw the sword on occasion, forward to speak and to follow his words with corresponding actions. It was Peter who asked, with proud aspiration, " What then shall we have? We, who have left all and followed thee?" He kept his eye on the main chance, and wanted no low place in the coming kingdom. He had the worldly idea of the Mes- siahship. It was Peter who, as the night of agony in Gethsemane approached, courageously said, " Even if I must die with thee, yet will I not deny thee." It was Peter who, as the traitors closed around his Lord, quickly drew his sword and smote the servant of the high priest and struck off his car. It was Peter who followed the captors PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 85 even into the court of the high priest's palace, to see the end. And it was Peter, too, who denied his Lord, denied him once, and again, and the third time ; and swore to the falsehood. So inconsistent, con- tradictory, unreliable, was this strong, weak man ; afraid of no soldier, cringing before a maid. Yet he was Peter, the Rock ; so that his personal faith- fulness of confession became the rock on which the eternal Church should be builded, and against which the forces of hell should not prevail. It was Peter who confessed, " Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." It was Peter who worshiped him, saying, "Of a truth thou art the Son of God." It was Peter who answered him, " To whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life." This man had the courage of his convictions. He had the capabilities of a grand manhood. He was fitted for devoted attachment. He would identify him- self with his Master. He would make the cause which he had espoused the passion of his life. He would consecrate himself and all that he had to the propagation of the kingdom, to the conquering sweep of the gospel and its proclamation to Gentiles as well as to Jews. Christ measured the man. He knew all men, and he needed not that anyone should bear wit- ness concerning man ; for he himself knew what was in man. He knew this man. He knew what S6 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE was in him, what splendid possibilities were as yet undeveloped in him, what a rock he would be for the infant Church, with what a fearless eloquence he would proclaim the gospel, with what undaunted boldness he would face the enemies of his Lord. Christ might have rejected him. He had denied Christ. He deserved to be rejected, as many of us do. We have not always been true to our Master. But the Master loved the disciple ; he could for- give and forget the sin of the penitent disciple who wept bitterly over his folly and sin. He knew that in spite of this shameful denial there was stuff in him for a great apostle and for a fearless martyr. And so, after he had risen from the dead, when he was turning to his true friends that he might lay on them the burdens and responsibilities and vast interests of his kingdom, he instructed his mes- senger to say, " Go tell his disciples and Peter," and especially Peter. The after life of this great apostle proved that the Lord was not mistaken in him. Almost at the very time when these words were spoken, he was on his way to the vacant sepulcher, which he was the first to enter. He was the first of the apostles to whom the risen Christ appeared. With deepest humility and affection he three times replied to the three times repeated question, "■ Lovest thou me? " Before the haughty Jews, in the face of their pitiless tribunals, he proclaimed Christ as the PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 8/ Messiah of their nation and of the world. He stood at the head of the apostles, and was their leader in the great work which was upon their hands. It was Peter, on the day of Pentecost, when Jerusalem was full of men from every nation under heaven, whose voice was lifted up to declare to the assembled people the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and that he was both Lord and Christ. It was Peter who, when the multitude were convicted, preached the new doctrine of repentance and acceptance in the name of Jesus Christ; and on that day three thousand of his hearers received the word and were added to the disciples. It was Peter who wrought the first apostolic mir- acle : when a lame man at the door of the temple which is called Beautiful asked alms of the apostles and Peter, with undoubting confidence in the power of the Master, said to him : "Look on us. . . . In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." It was Peter who improved the occasion of that miracle on that day, and on the next day, boldly to preach the doctrine of the crucified Christ as the only one through whom salvation can be gained. For, he said, " Neither is there any other name under heaven, that is given among men, wherein we must be saved." So all along in the history you will see that it was Peter who stood in the forefront of the gospel 88 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE preachers, challenging the enemies of Christ to their duty and claiming that he must speak the things that he had seen and heard. The sick caught the magic of his name and lay along the streets on beds and couches, that as Peter came by, at the least his shadow might overshadow some one of them. It was Peter who was brought forth by night out of the prison, where the priests had caused him to be confined and was reported to them in the morn- ing as standing in the temple and teaching the people; and who, when he was brought before the council, said to them : "We must obey God rather than men." It was Peter who early entered upon evangelical tours, carrying forth the gospel into Samaria, to Syrophcenicia, to Lydda, Joppa, and Caesarea. He was the first to receive the heathen into the Christian Church, and by his wide mis- sionary journeys first gave the missionary char- acter to the world-embracing and world-conquer- ing faith. Christ made no mistake in respect to this man. I le knew that his great work needed just the qualities that Peter had. And he made use of them for the honor of the disciple and the glory of the Master. The world owes much to this apostle. He gave character to the rising and growing Church. He has been an example for these centu- ries suited to all ministers and missionaries, to all PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 89 followers of Christ. There was vast meaning in the message: "Go tell the disciples and Peter." So we come back to the truth with which we started of the particularity of Christ's message to each individual. We may notice, in the first place, that every man has his particular qualities, aptitudes, charac- teristics. No two men are exactly alike. No two leaves, blades of grass, flowers ; no two gems, rubies, diamonds ; no two animals ; no two faces, features, are precisely similar. Peter was not at all like John ; he could not be mistaken for James. You never think of him as being any one but Peter. The artists, in aiming to reproduce on canvas the apostles of Christ, give Peter an ex- pression, a personality, quite unlike any one of the others. With a massive head, a beetling brow, eyes in which lightning flashes, he has also a frame of strength, and looks like a man fitted to be the leader of armies. Among the strong men of the apostleship, he has a unique personality. So every man, when he is known, when his qualities and characteristics are subjected to anal- ysis, is only himself and not any one else. In a deep, true sense, he stands alone. He was made to be himself. If he goes about to make himself some one else, to be like some other man, to try to wear clothes that were made for a very different person, to fit himself into a « 90 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE place that was designed for some one a great deal smaller or a great deal larger than he is, he makes a great blunder, to speak mildly of it, and we might almost call it a crime. For is it not, in ef- fect, charging God with a mistake? Is it not, in effect, claiming that he ought to be, ought to have been made to be, another person than he is? Now God makes no mistakes. His molds are di- vine. Such as he made you, with the endowments that you have, with the qualities of mind and body that you possess, he has a personal message for you. For he knows you thoroughly. Men may not know you so. They may have an idea that they understand your make-up. But how often arc they deceived ! The man who knows how to speak the right word to another, the word that fits his case, is the man who has power over the other. A man of keen mind was examining the work of a schoolboy. The boy was discouraged, almost despairing. The man noticed one thing which the timid boy half hid. It was his drawing. He saw in that the elements of mastery; the signs of genius. He frankly told the boy of his power and stimulated his aspiration. The student came to him afterward privately and asked him if he meant it. He replied that he certainly did. He spoke to the boy's true self. Other men, teachers, had mistaken him, had not understood what was in him. PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 9 1 But here was a voice of sympathy and understand- ing that roused the slumbering soul, that thrilled on the sensibilities of a talented mind, as the hand of a master will draw sweetest music from a well- made harp. That boy became a renowned artist. God knows who you are, and he speaks to you such as you are. He knows exactly your frame- work, for his forming hand fashioned it. He knows your mental qualities, for by his breath you became a living soul. In the second place, these particular aptitudes and characteristics are to be taken account of in the discipline of life. Education is leading out that which is in one. True education includes finding out what is in one and then making the most of it. The higher education runs much to electives. The student, by the aid of his instruc- tors, is assumed to find out what he is fitted for ; then he applies himself to those studies which de- velop what is in him. If he is possessed of a tal- ent for language, he strives for success along that line and becomes learned in the tongues of the world. If he has a natural gift for philosophy, he does not lose the advantage of it by working poorly at physics. A good farmer should not be spoiled for the sake of making a poor lawyer. It indicates civic degradation when the judicial bench is occupied by a saloon-keeper. Statesmen are not raised from down-grade politicians. 92 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE All men are not made for the same end. Some are designed for one station, others for a different station. One star is made for a sun ; another for a planet ; another for the satellite of a planet. Nor are men to be wrought on by the same methods for the places for which they arc designed. They are to be developed according to their material. Marble is to be wrought into a statue by the chisel. Iron is to be wrought into a statue by melting and molding; wood, by the knife and plane. God would have his creations become wise, holy, efficient. He would have them eminent in his service according to their several ability. He does not expect Peter to be Paul. It is rarely that one could be a Luther. Edwards had the material which few men possess. Through influ- ence of one kind Calvin became what he was. Through conditions peculiar to him Wesley was fitted for his missions. History traces it to inci- dental circumstances that the founder of Metho- dism and the hero of Waterloo pursued such dif- ferent courses. But divine Providence was in it. The hand of the Almighty wrought on them. The particular qualities and aptitudes of men are taken account of in the discipline by which they arc trained and qualified for their work ; by which they are led to' be such as they become. God is a master builder. He knows what the PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 93 material is upon which he works. He knows into what it may be fashioned by the agencies which he uses for the building of immortal souls. He misunderstands no man. He makes no mistake as to inherent characteristics or as to possible results. So he has a particular message for each one. He calls every man to his place. He points out the path for every foot. He directs the personal exertion which each one needs to make. It is for every man to heed God — to put him- self into personal accord with his guide and Saviour. In the third place, men need particular appeal, personal influence, special encouragement. Peter was in that condition that he needed something special, specific, said to him and done for him. And the Master knew this when he said, " Tell the disciples and Peter!' He knew, indeed, the want of that apostle better than the apostle him- self knew it. How thoroughly, how tenderly, he met it ! And how successfully ! And how per- manent was the lesson ! Peter became another man ; of the same qualities, indeed, but differently directed and accomplishing different results. From that time he led the conquests of the kingdom. Every man has an approachable side. There is a joint in every man's harness through which an arrow can be shot. Men have their weak points 94 PARTICULARITY IN CHRIST'S MESSAGE and their strong points. A strong man once made a study of a friend for months that he might learn how to gain him, and learning that, he brought his friend to Christ. On what line shall the appeal be 'made? Christ had one word for Nathanael, and a different one for Nicodemus ; one word for the woman of Samaria, and a different one for Mary Magdalene. Study the quality and the characteristics of one whom you would lead to the Master ; of one whom you would win from sin, from indulged habits of impenitence, and bring over to godliness and Christian service. Find out, if you can, by what influence you can convert a neighbor and save a soul from death. That which would take hold of one man would repulse another man. One motive is command- ing, another motive is futile, with a certain class of minds. One soul needs encouragement ; another needs warning. One man is influenced by that which appeals to his personal interests ; another by that which reaches to his family and his friends. God's word addresses every man. Apply that word with its particular appeal, persuasion, warn- ing, encouragement, hope, to him whom you would see in the kingdom. Remember that there is a power back of yours; that there is an incomprehensible influence exerted PARTICULARITY IN CHRIST S MESSAGE 95 on all minds to gain them if possible ; and seek to act in harmony with God. God acts with immeas- urable wisdom, as one who is acquainted with the subject; and we are wise if we act with God. Get acquainted with the person, and so know what his need is, what his weak point is, what his strong point is, and bring your influence into coincidence with the divine influence. Always feel that God is foremost; that where he leads you can safely follow. His awakening spirit must be first ; your corresponding effort must be harmonious with him. Make account of the difference in minds. Tennyson, walking with some friends, tarried behind to look into a brook. When he overtook them, he said, "What a wonderful imagination God has ! " They passed the brook, seeing only its rippling surface ; he looked into its shallows and saw there the work and the wonders of Almightiness. "And Peter." You are Peter ! Christ has a particular message for you. Just where you are, just what you are, he speaks to you. It may be a voice of tender warning that you may hear if you will only listen. You have gone far enough on the path that you have chosen to walk in ; every step hereafter is full of peril. If you would escape the risk, would flee from danger, you will heed his word to you. It ma)' be a voice of comfort. You have suf- g6 PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE fered; you have borne heavy burdens; you have met great losses. He would console you, and by his hand of strength he would relieve you and make your evening of woe to be followed by a morning of joy, as the gloomiest night is often succeeded by the brightest dawn. It may be a voice of instruction. You do not know what to do, which way to turn, how to escape the consequences of sin. He will give you specific direction, so plain that "the way-faring men, yea fools, shall not err therein." You need not be lost. You may be saved. Warning, instruction, comfort, are freely spoken for you, to meet your special case. Christ, indeed, has a message for you as direct and specific as though you were the only man. He speaks, as I said, to all men ; he gives a mankind-call. But he singles you out, as though he spoke your name, as though his message were for you alone. Peter listened and obeyed. He consecrated his life, himself, to Christ, and he left the impress of his devotion and sacrifice on other lives, on the widening history of the Church, on the victorious kingdom of God. Peter followed Christ, and so he became the leader of many souls into the gates of light. The Galilean fisherman became a "Fisher of Men." Listen, my friends, as Peter listened, to the voice of the dear Christ. You may not hear him PARTICULARITY OF CHRIST'S MESSAGE 97 in the earthquake of popular financial trouble, nor in the whirlwind of political agitation, but he will speak by a still, small voice to your very soul. It may be as you in solitude read his Holy Word ; it may be as you feel the anguish and loneliness of an inconsolable sorrow ; it may be as the Holy Spirit himself convinces you of your inexpressible need ; it may be in the solemn providences that darken your pathway. But in whatever way he speaks, it is as a loving Friend, as a divine Redeemer. 7 L VI VICARIOUS SUFFERING " Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many. 11 Matthew 20 : 28. On the Dedication of the Chapel of the Christian Commission, at Point of Rocks, Virginia. VICARIOUS SUFFERING The experiences of these eventful times are giving new meaning and fresh force to old and familiar truths. Voices, tenderer and more strong than any whose tones break out from all the past, solemnly urge them upon our attention, and events of tragic and transcendent import are interpreting them to our hearts as they have heretofore been inter- preted to the cold and unresponsive reason. Re- bellion was always a black word in the language, and it meant more or less to those who carelessly pronounced it. But spoken in the lurid light of the flames that it has kindled over one half of our beloved land, amidst the agonies of a people struggling for their very life, with the awful memo- ries of its accursed work on battle-fields piled with the dead, and in homes made desolate forever, and on hearts broken by its murderous blows it gleams with a fearful significance, and includes in its contents all that is worst in earth and in hell. Loyalty always sounded with a sweet tone, whether it described an individual or a people ; 102 VICARIOUS SUFFERING but illuminated by the devotion of those heroes of our own, who during these last years have cheer- fully offered their lives for their land, by the enlist- ment of our noble volunteers, who have sacrificed all dearest objects, chosen pursuits, study, home, parents, wife, children, for the defence of their country, it beams with a luster rivaled by no other word in all human speech, and suggests the lofty love of heaven ! Sublime were those last words of a wounded general (Robert McCook) to a friend, "I am done with life; yes, this ends it all. You and I part now, but the loss of ten thousand lives such as yours and mine would be nothing if their sacrifice would but save such a government as ours." The great central truth of Christianity, the vica- rious atonement of Christ, the voluntary offering of the Son of God for the sins of the world, for the salvation of sinners, stands out in bolder relief on the background of events which are now trans- piring, the offerings of precious lives, the sacrifices of loyal hearts, for the salvation of our beloved country. We can appreciate now, as we never could before, the work of the Redeemer for us. Our hearts warm toward him with a truer love, our thanks ascend to him with a more intelligent earn- estness, for his humiliation and his death in our behalf, when we see them enforced and made real VICARIOUS SUFFERING 103 by the tribulations through which we are passing. The deaths of those who have fallen on all our memorable battle-fields, the patient endurance of the sick and wounded in hospitals, the unwearied devotion of mothers and sisters, which survives all hardships and loneliness and affliction, the pro- longed agonies of a whole people, among whom every circle has been invaded, and in all whose homes the voice of mourning has been heard, all draw us to Christ, suggest his greater endurances, and bow us in gratitude at his cross. " Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." Perhaps I cannot choose a better theme for our thought to-day than this old doctrine of vicarious suffering, made a living truth by the stirring his- tory of the present. By vicarious suffering, I mean that suffering which is endured for others. And such is a large proportion of all the woe of the world, not for the sufferer's sake, but in behalf of others. Our blessings are the result of others' burdens. Every pleasure has been purchased by another's pain. Throughout all history, in every age and every land, stands prominently forth this doctrine of substituted suffering. It flows in all the blood that has been shed ; it flames in every martyr fire ; it speaks in the dying testimony of confessors; it is eloquent in the speech of patriots 104 VICARIOUS SUFFERING who have fallen ; it is commemorated by historic battle-fields ; it follows the footsteps of exiles ; it is written on prison walls ; it hallows the endur- ance of peoples struggling against iron tyrannies ; it makes the cross the world's most sacred emblem ; it consecrates Gethsemane and Calvary. Let me bring to your notice the causes of this strange and sublime phenomenon : I. The interlinkings of the social state require it. We stand not in the world apart, each man an entire being by himself, independent and unaf- fected by others' weal or woe. But we are all linked together — one mighty, mysterious chain of being, along which the electric current, communi- cated at one point, flashes and thrills, until the whole has felt the shock to which any part has vibrated. The first blow fell, slight, awful, stun- ning not those alone on whom it fell then, but all who came after them as well, so robbing a race of its glory, and laying it under the spell and curse of sin. Society is made up of parts, fitted to each other as the blocks of a massive structure are fitted and cemented together. Standing in order and strength all is well, but let there be a displacement of a single block, and there is a weakening and a crum- bling and a falling of the whole in one melancholy ruin. Look first at the family, the earliest and the VICARIOUS SUFFERING 105 best of the social relations. There substituted suf- fering has its appointed place. It comes in the adjusting of human hearts that must beat together. It comes in the strange mystery of birth, in all the pain of the mother for her child. It comes in weary watchings and anxieties, as the child passes through successive periods of peril. It comes in the sickness that startles with its awful shadow, and its prophecy of heavier woe. It comes in the changes which the years bring, of hope and despair, of holiness and depravity, of sweet, maturing life, of dark, miserable being. It comes in wrestlings and cries of wounded hearts at the mercy-seat for way- ward children of the covenant, in disappointments worse than death, and in burdens heavier than those of age. God hears no sadder voices than those which go up from pious parents for apostate off- spring ; prayers, mingled with divine promises and heavy human woes, bursting and gushing from torn hearts. This is suffering of which those for whom it is endured know little, often, alas ! care nothing. Another endurance sometimes comes in the family experience ; that of the innocent child for those who would, but cannot, relieve it. Like a tender iamb, offered on the altar for the welfare of all the family, the beautiful, winning child sickens, suffers, dies. As the old Levitical code called for the fairest of the flock, the choicest of the herd, 106 VICARIOUS SUFFERING an offering without blemish and without spot, so does God sometimes now call for the fairest of a family, that by the sorrow and the suffering they may be chastened for the life to come. Well is it when those who survive follow the Shepherd up the heights to which he took their treasure. There are flowers too sweet for our terrestrial gar- dens, and God transfers them to bloom under the heavenly skies. There are gems so pure that they would dazzle our mortal sight, and God takes them to shed their luster around his throne. The jewels that would be tarnished if left in our keep- ing are reserved in heaven for us, as crown jewels are kept only for the coronation of kings. Death, as it thins the household, brings ever this experi- ence of vicarious suffering. Beyond the family, in the community and the state, we find the same fact resulting from the same causes. There are those whose lot it is to bear the burdens of the majority. There are those who stand forth preeminent among their fel- low men as those who have suffered for all the others. Their names are luminous. Their mem- ory is sacred. History embalms them in immor- tal urns. Art, in its chiefest works, perpetuates their features and their forms. The world raises them to enduring thrones. The principles which arc the best, the blessings, social and political, which arc most prized, have not been a spontane- VICARIOUS SUFFERING 107 ous growth, an easy harvest. They are the fruit of seed sown in tears, and enriched with the choic- est blood and garnered by the agony of noble men. Take the single, simple principle of the right of private judgment. For that what endurance has there been, what toil, what pain of body and of mind ! What enjoyment has been renounced, what sacrifices have been made, what persecutions have been voluntarily endured ! Reformers have stood up for it against authority and frowns and anathemas. Strong men have unsheathed the sword in its defence, and blood has flowed in tor- rents for its maintenance — a gory baptism of a sacred truth ! Martyrs have offered up life for it ; pilgrims have forsaken home and native land and sought new homes in strange climes for the sake of it. Europe rocked once in the strife for it. We hold it — a costly heritage — bequeathed through the suffering of noble forefathers. Take the great cause of human freedom. We enjoy it. Our noble Northern land blooms in the light of it. Its opulent cities, its magnificent im- provements, its schools and churches, its manufac- tures and its commerce, its science and art, its beautiful homes, its intelligent laws, and its cul- tured people, are its grandest memorials. But it cost something to secure it. In other lands, in ages long gone, the conflict and the suffering went on. Patriots sprang to its defence. Tell and I08 VICARIOUS SUFFERING Wallace and Cromwell and Hampden and other goodly men led the hosts who battled for it. The closet, the prison, the battle-field, testified for it. On our shores our fathers spared not themselves, but, by marvelous endurance, prolonged and against multiplied hostilities, they secured it for us. Not for himself did Washington enter upon the struggle for our independence. He might have been a British noble, but he spurned the bribe which was offered to him, choosing rather to suffer for his people than to enjoy personal emolu- ments. "When Freedom, on her natal day, Within her war- rocked cradle lay, An iron race around her stood, Baptized her infant brow in blood, And, through the storm which round her swept, Their constant ward and watching kept. Our fathers to their graves have gone, Their strife is past — their triumph won ; But sterner trials wait the race Which rises in their honored place — A moral warfare, with the crime And folly of an evil time."* This greater revolution, in the throes of which we are travailing, and whose annals will dim our natal struggle, as they will all other heroic strug- gles of great peoples for their life, both by the VICARIOUS SUFFERING IO9 magnitude of the physical forces engaged and by the sublimity of the moral end to be attained, is calling for an amount of vicarious suffering which will make our land the altar of the world. These mighty armies of our noblest brothers, moving into the perils of protracted war, from which so many will be offered ; these steady, trustful hearts back of them, in all the homes that are lonely because they are away, which daily, hourly, bear up our sacrificing soldiery in prayer to God, and which are almost broken by the tidings which crash in upon them, these all are enduring for the welfare of others. For their children, for their native and adopted land, for the populations that are, in all the future, to enjoy what they have so dearly purchased, all these freely suffer. And more will do it. Other hearts will bring their chiefest treasures, other lives will present their costly devotion, so that this government shall stand. Such a sacrifice shall be made, so illus- trious and so precious that the memory of it shall be topmost in the history of mortal endurance, shall stand forever next to the divine sacrifice of the son of God for the redemption of the world. Never will we let die, never will liberty-loving men, in all nations, let die the memory of those who give themselves as a ransom for this land. Heroic literature, embalming their deeds in books, shall be read by our children. Art shall preserve I 10 VICARIOUS SUFFERING their record on canvas and in marble. A nation shall hold their names as its choicest treasures. On a gravestone in Pennsylvania a mother has placed this inscription for her only son, who has fallen in this war: "A willing sacrifice to the great principle of liberty." On the southern coast a boat-load of loyal soldiers became exposed to the deadly fire of the enemy, the boat having run aground. It was necessary that some one should offer himself to save them. A colored man stepped forward, saying, " Somebody's got to die to get us out of this and it may as well be • me." He then deliberately got out and pushed the boat into the stream, and fell into it pierced with five bullets. One of our noblest generals, Gen- eral James C. Rice, in his last letter to his mother before the fearful battle of the Wilderness, in which he fell, wrote: " My Dear Mother: Good-by. We are going again to do our duty, to bravely offer up our life for that of the country, and through God we shall do valiantly." With kindred devotion thousands on thousands have given themselves for the land they love. For us, for all who survive them, for all who shall come after them, in the golden ages that are to come as the fruit of their endurance, did they offer them- selves as vicarious sufferers. II. The demands of benevolence call for suffer- ing in behalf of others. The wants and the woes VICARIOUS SUFFERING I I I of a burdened race make their touching appeal to those who can be moved by them, and who can do something to alleviate them. The records of philanthropy catalogue a succes- sion of names of honor of those who have not spared themselves that they might relieve the mis- ery of others. Every great principle, every sub- lime truth, has had its martyred adherents. Every benevolent enterprise has been advocated at the cost of suffering. To lift men, guilty it may be, but human, out of their dark dungeons, the thou- sands must go down into the diseases and death that haunt them. It has not been without hazard that old wrongs have been redressed, great crimes been dragged to the light, ignominious institutions been assailed and overthrown, virtue and good ways been established and defended. Some must count not their lives dear to themselves, must give up the dearest privileges, must throw themselves into the perilous contest with their treasure and their blood, if others are to enjoy the blessing. Christ's cause in the world is a history of cheerful renun- ciation of all dearest things, of heroic self-denial and devotion and of personal suffering for others' welfare. His followers have walked in the painful footsteps of their Master, rewarded, no doubt, but still enduring the cross. "Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." I 12 VICARIOUS SUFFERING III. The necessity of the atonement for sin has led to vicarious suffering. Sublime beyond all other instances is that of the Son of God suffering and dying in the place of sinners. All other instances should only suggest to us this most mar- velous offering, should only draw us nearer to the cross. And if we suffer, if we take upon ourselves the duty that involves loss and peril and sacrifice, if we move forth to death in behalf of others, let us bear in mind the agonies of the Redeemer for us, and never forget that he gave his life a ransom for us. In his case there was a necessity for the suf- fering as there could be in no other case. For un- less he had undertaken for us there could have been no salvation. If we shrink from duty for our fellow men others may take the glory and the reward. One only could bear the sins of the world. Would God give up his beloved and only Son? Would the Son of God become the Son of man, go down into our lowliness, take up our sufferings and our sin, become himself a sacrifice for us? It was so. God gave his Son. Christ gave himself. He left the throne for the humble manger. He left the society of heaven for the society of sinners. He left honor for shame, praise for cursing, glory for a cross. We had sinned and so were lost. He stood in our place before the law ; he bare our sins in his own body on the tree; he was wounded for us; he died to save us. His chiefest title is VICARIOUS SUFFERING I I 3 Saviour of sinners. He has done such a work for us that we can all be pardoned. He gave his life a ransom for man. His infinite life stands for all our forfeited finite lives. Now, if we will only believe, if we will only trust in him, if we will only consent that he shall be our Saviour, and love him and serve him, we may be saved. This is the gos- pel, the good news which we bring. We carry it to the camp and to the hospital ; we whisper it to the dying warrior on the blackened ridges of bat- tle and we announce it to the gathered soldiery in their peaceful assemblages. For this, that this gospel may be preached, we build and dedicate these tabernacles of worship amidst the camps of our noble armies. We love the brave men who stand as a wall of steel between our government and its enemies, and we would have them all love our Saviour. As they peril their lives for their countrymen so Christ gave his life a ransom for them. To that Saviour so worthy of your affection, soldiers of the republic, we invite you now. We remind you anew of what he has done for you. We beseech you to give your manly strength, your worthy af- fection, to this divine Redeemer. As you have no- bly heeded the call of the country, rallying under its flag, so enlist under the great Captain of our sal- vation, who can give you victory. As now, in our united prayer, we dedicate this chapel to his ser- 114 VICARIOUS SUFFERING vice in worship, so in prayer dedicate yourselves to him, and let this double offering be presented to our Lord, the tabernacle and the worshipers in it! Many, my friends, are the instances during this war, of the power and the value of religion in the army and the navy. After the battle of Manassas a colonel stood, like a brother, by a dying ser- geant, and this was his testimony to his superior officer: "Colonel, I am glad I am going to die; I want to rest — the march has not been so long, but I am weary — I am tired — I want to halt — I want to be with Christ — I want to be with my Saviour." To his sister and his aunt, who stood by him he said : " Do not grieve : do not weep, for I am going to Christ; I am going to rest in heaven." '"And, colonel," he said, with a brightening face, " tell my comrades of the army, the brave Army of the Potomac, that I died bravely, died for the good old flag." After the battle of Fort Donelson a dying officer was asked what message he would send to" his friends, and his message was, "There is not a cloud between me and Christ." After the same battle a youthful soldier was seen sitting against a tree while his life-blood gushed away and his dying song was, " Nearer, my God, to thee." A dear brother-in-law of mine, a captain in the Fourteenth Connecticut, in this army, was mortally VICARIOUS SUFFERING I I 5 wounded in one of the terrible battles of the Wil- derness. He had carried his cheerful piety through marches and long compaigns and hard-fought bat- tles, and into the prisons of Richmond ; it remained with him in the sufferings of his last days, comfort- ing the friends who gathered around him at Freder- icksburg, and raying out upon brother officers and soldiers who loved him well and honored his con- sistent religious character. When he was asked by Bishop Mcllvane if he regretted, lying there wounded and dying, that he had given himself to the cause of his country, he promptly replied : " No, bishop, if I had not been willing to give my life for my country I should never have entered the army." And when asked if he still trusted in Christ his answer was, " Living or dying my trust is in him alone." He spoke of heaven as a better country than this, and said, " Well, I shall be there and shall know all about it pretty soon." On the Sabbath morning of the day of his death he said, ''To-day I shall get my marching orders; well, I am ready." In death victory was his, and he passed joyfully to that land of which he often spoke in fond anticipation, as alluring him by its grand realities. The last words of Admiral Foote, of whom it was said during his Mississippi expedition, " He prays as though God did everything and fights as though man did everything," were, " I thank God Il6 VICARIOUS SUFFERING for all his goodness to me, for all his loving kind- ness to me ; I thank him for his benefits." Re- nowned as was that brave naval officer, his great- est glory was his earnest Christian character. One of our first astronomers, responding to the call of his country when rebellion lifted itself against the government, became a successful leader of our armies. He had learned to look beyond the stars, whose sublime pathways he had traced, and devoutly to love Him who had made them all, and when on our malarious Southern coasts he was smitten with disease and saw that he must die, General Mitchell said, " It is a blessed thing to have a Christian's hope in a time like this !" It detracts nothing from the heroic character of that accomplished general who led the right wing of the army in Sherman's triumphant march from Atlanta to Savannah that he is known to be a devoted Christian. Daily he gathers his military family for worship. He bows in the meetings for prayer, leading the devotions of the soldiers to Him who alone giveth victory and peace. He kneels by his dying soldiers and prays for them. It is told of him that he entered the house where he learned a soldier was dying, read to him from the words of Christ, and prayed for him ; then he bent down and kissed him and said to him, " Captain G., we shall meet in heaven ! " Such facts are the most precious in the records VICARIOUS SUFFERING I I 7 of war. They gild its dark cloud with somewhat of the glory of heaven. I point you to these, a few out of many, to encourage you also to seek the faith which was such a strength and solace to them. Trust Him, O soldiers of the country, who, to you, living or dying, can give certain victory! VII FOR MEMORIAL DAY "To grant unto us that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies " Should serve him without fear, "In holiness and righteousness before him all our day?." — S. Luke, i : 74, 75. Memorial Discourse in Grand Avenue Church, New Haven. FOR MEMORIAL DAY The highest patriotic spirit prizes political peace and prosperity as a means of enlarged spiritual growth and success. The result of victorious con- flict in deliverance from the hand of our enemies should be the strengthening of holiness and right- eousness among the favored people. War has its bitter experiences, but it has its useful lessons. Out of its carnage should come courage ; out of its grime should come glory ; through its travail and trial should be begotten noblest traits of character and heroic tests of conduct. The aspira- tion of the true patriot should be the inspiration of the true priest. Politics should be united to religion. The life of the nation should be made greater and grander by the death which has hallowed its history. Once more we stand by the graves of the heroes. Once more, as we decorate the places where they sleep in silence, we hear the voices of their deeds and learn the lessons of their sacrificial lives. In the beautiful resurrection of nature their examples rise from out their graves, and we are charged to worthier ways of spending all our days. 122 FOR MEMORIAL DAY It is not for the dead only that we observe the Memorial Anniversary. Nothing that we can do will affect them, for their work is nobly done and their record is forever closed. But in honoring their memory we can stimulate our fidelity ; in recalling their service we can set ourselves anew to our responsible tasks. Many years have passed since the tattered standards, borne back from successful battle, streamed along our streets, since the veterans, marching from bloody fields, passed in their last review before a grateful people. And those who are now coming into young manhood and woman- hood can remember nothing of those great events which put a million of our noblest men into the field and furrowed our country with uncounted graves. It was one of the greatest wars of the world, if we estimate the principles that were involved in it and the land for whose future its battles were fought. Our children should be reminded of the perils from which they have been delivered and of the debt they owe to the heroes who gave their precious lives to save the land and its liberties. But for the war they might have been with us still, contributing to the happiness of our homes and the welfare of our society. We can honor them by memorial services; we can honor them more by the service of worthy lives. FOR MEMORIAL DAY I 23 In the first place, in these memorial days, we may regard the war as setting a true value to life. War, in its very nature, necessitates the offering of many lives. War is contrived to kill as many as possible. That battle is considered as the most successful in which there has been the greatest number of the dead. War is costly in many ways, but it is most costly in lives. Human life, therefore, is a principal element in all wars. What is life worth ? What value can we fairly put upon it? Is life worth too much to be given up to armies and fightings, to the risks of camps and battle-fields? Life is valuable for what it can worthily accom- plish. Mere living has not any real worth. Mere living belongs to the brute creation, and in some sense to the vegetable production. But human life is the life of responsibility and influence. It is the life of being fashioned in the image of God and possessing immortality; of being endowed with reason, endowed with susceptibilities and with the power and freedom of choice ; capable, there- fore, of estimating values, of looking at motives, of feeling happiness and also remorse, and of deter- mining personal character. Each man of the two hundred thousand who fell in the defence of the Union — one hundred thousand on the field, one hundred thousand in hospitals or in wasting sicknesses at home — was 124 FOR MEMORIAL DAY an accountable, influential, immortal soul. He had but one earthly life to spend for some object. That is all that any one of us has ; one earthly life, to be used in our way, according to our choice, for such aim or object as we may select. Those who went into the war for the Union with intelligent appreciation of the act felt and knew that they offered their lives for that cause. They might go through safely. But they took the risk of early and sudden death. They knew that in the first great battle many would be stretched cold and lifeless on the contested field. They knew that they might be the first to fall ; that the fare- well which they had spoken to the dear ones at home might be the last ; and that they might look no more on the faces of mothers and sisters and fathers and brothers and wives and children- They were willing to take the risk. Their country called them. The land of their fathers, of their birth, or their adoption — the land which held in it many of the world's most precious hopes — was in peril from treason and from armed enemies. They sprang to its defence joyfully ; students from their books; men from all learned professions; mer- chants from their goods ; artisans and farmers ; sacrificing all their plans, all their hopes, all their old ambitions. Grand men stood in the ranks and filled the camps. I remember sleeping on the Potomac in a tent FOR MEMORIAL DAY I 25 that rang with college songs and college stories till midnight in the blaze of a fire of Virginia wood. I remember preaching in a chapel on the Appomattox that was filled with appreciative scholars and professional men. You could not live in the armies without knowing that you were in the midst of first-rate men. The lives of those who gave themselves to the defence of the country were among the most valuable we had to give. They knew the cost and they were willing to pay it. Wrote one of them from the field: "It is hard to be a private, hard to be an officer, hard to march, hard to fight, hard to be out on picket in the rain, hard to live on short rations and be exposed to all sorts of weather, hard to be wounded, hard to think of lying down in death without the gentle hand of love to smooth one's brow ; but there is just one thing that makes all these things easy, and that is the spirit of Chris- tian patriotism." That spirit lived in the armies. It sustained the soldiers through hardships and disappointments and defeats. It gave us victory and a country and our heroes. The value of life is in its living. How are you living? How are you using the wonderful powers of your immortal soul? What is to be the record and the result? If you are living merely for your- self, for your present gratification, for the indul- gence of low aims ; if you are living in neglect of 126 FOR MEMORIAL DAY duty and in denial of God, in carelessness for your soul and your immortality, you put a low value on life, on yourself. Your life has value in so far as you use it for great ends, for pure, true character, for union with the living Christ, for the successful entering on a blessed immortality. As you stand by the graves of the heroic dead, take a measure of yourselves, gauge your lives, conclude that the end will be what the immortality must be. In the second place, we may regard the war as enthroning principle in affairs. There are many downward tendencies in nations, as in individuals. We need severe discipline to bring us back to the true standard. " Before I was afflicted I went astray; but now I observe thy word," is the con- fession that follows the sorrows of many individ- uals. It has its counterpart in national experience. Perhaps there never was a time when our country was in greater danger than during the years that immediately preceded the war. A sordid spirit was abroad. There was a truckling to expediency on the part of public men. Material prosperity was the one desired end. The national life was honeycombed with greed and godlessness. Our foremost men bowed their necks to the yoke of a domineering iniquity. There was no great, noble principle which pervaded the popular mind and commanded loyalty. Those who stood for the right were stricken down, as. Caesar was FOR MEMORIAL DAY I 27 stricken down by Brutus. The floor of the senate chamber was stained by the blood of its noblest orator. The greatest statesman of our land was ignobly held in moral shackles. The portents were for evil. It seemed as though we were to follow in the wake of accursed nations. Then the war came. It came as the thunderbolt rives the polluted air. It came as the hurricane sweeps through malarious districts. It called the long roll of all the people. It introduced a new motive. It enthroned principle in affairs. It put right uppermost. It gave new meaning to patriotism and liberty. There was something worthy to be fought for, even to die for. Men had lived for selfishness and low-running ambitions. Now they could die for sublime purposes. There was tonic in the air. There was stimulus in speech. There was new life for the nation. It was a great thing that a people, not then a century old in their organized independent national being, should be arrested on the downward grade, on which dead nations have slid to perdition, and should be set with its face toward the sun in the heavens ! The war saved us. It gave us a new atmosphere. It begot radical amendments in our fundamental law. It revolutionized the constitu- tion, and made of us a new people. I read one of the latest utterances of one of our Connecticut sena- tors, made during this current month in Congress : 128 FOR MEMORIAL DAY " We say we were right. How are we ever going to decide? Some senator says, 4 God only knows.' I bow reverently and admit it, but there are cer- tain ways of arriving at that which must be ac- cepted as right among men, and the last awful and ereat resort is the tribunal of war. We submitted to that, and we obtained that which we of the Union call right now ; and so far as human laws and institutions and duties are concerned, we leave further judgment to the judgment day. So far as we, practically, are concerned, our side was and is right." This has the ring of the best days of old Connecticut. There is a Puritan throb and thrill in it. It is as though Sherman or Ells- worth spake. Only last w r eek I noticed the remark of a leading politician in respect to introducing a moral ques- tion into a political campaign, that the "party could only be fully aroused to its duty when some great moral issue summoned it to the polls. And an influential political journal on the ground says in a late issue : " There is no public man in Kansas with either the courage or temerity to take the field as an avowed opponent of prohibition." The practical tests of our times are proving that there has been a new recognition of moral principle in the land ever since the war touched with its fingers of fire the conscience of the nation. We have a higher and purer public service. The interests of FOR MEMORIAL DAY 1 29 morality are influential in legislation, and the national conscience is sensitive. In the third place, we may regard the war as accomplishing the purpose of Providence. It is a great thing to have God recognized. Nations easily grow atheistic. Especially nations that are successful come to confide in their power and prosperity. Their material greatness looms before their eyes, and shuts out all else. The roar of their enginery drowns the thunder, and the march of their progress distances Providence. They need to be awakened. They need to be recalled to first truths. When Abraham Lincoln issued his Proclamation of Emancipation, he closed it with the memorable words : "Upon this I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God." God appeared then in our national life. There was need of him. The human power was great and terrible. But there was need of a stronger arm. The heavy battalions needed Omnipotence back of them. From that time, when the nation wheeled to the side of Providence, when the armies were reinforced by the divine purposes, victories waited on the Union flag. The work was immense. The tides of war rolled with impetuous and awful fury from the Mississippi to the Atlantic. Foote and Farragut bombarded an open highway up and 9 130 FOR MEMORIAL DAY down the Mississippi. Vicksburg fell before the persistency of Grant. Thomas struck the vitals of the Confederacy. Sherman swept a swath of des- olation through the heart of the rebellious states. The great armies of the Potomac and the James at last reaped the fruits of their patient service, and the history of the great rebellion was closed. The prayers that had gone up from rice swamps and cotton fields, borne on the plaintive and weird cries and songs of slaves, had come to answering. The faith of bold reformers, who had refused all compromise with hideous oppression, and had gone forth for weary and troubled years in self- denying works, was strangely rewarded. That overshadowing wrong, whose hideous shadow had rested with blight and mildew on all the land, and from which no human foresight could per- ceive relief, was finally, wonderfully obliterated, and the foremost peril of the nation was forever removed. The world saw the hand of God in these events. Thanksgivings to Him who is over all, mingled with the sorrows of the bereaved who sat in soli- tariness in every home. It was seen that the dead had not died in vain. The purpose of Providence was fulfilled. And therefore it is that in these beautiful days we can honor, as we recall, those who laid down their lives for us and for our children. FOR MEMORIAL DAY I 3 I Once more before the summer's radiant portal Springs wide to welcome us, we turn to lay The floral wreath of May Upon the grave mounds of our hero dead. A noble land should hold their fame immortal Who gave their lives to keep it as a shrine Inviolate and pure ; And made it so, secure, Pouring their blood as sacrificial wine. O hero brothers ! through the victor palms Do ye look earthward ? Do ye bend to greet The tones of human love, and find them sweet Rising up, broken, through transcendent psalms ? But, oh, beloved dead ! shall words of praise, Or Spring's fair blooms, suffice? What mean our sacred, our memorial days Of you whose gift of price To your dear land was life ? Nay, it is not well That we should rest content with words and flowers. Your work is done! The task that yet is ours Is to live nobly, striving still to make Righteousness rule the nation for whose sake Ye counted life as naught. If in the skies The prayers of saints for those on earth arise, Ask that our work may be as nobly done, Our land redeemed, our rest as bravely won." VIII THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH "In whom each several building, fitly framed together, groweth into a holy temple in the Lord." — Ephesians 2:21. At Rededication of North Haven Church THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH The work of the Church in the world is a great work. Whether we look at it as a whole, or in its parts, it suggests magnitude, great forces, great labor, great accomplishment. It was great in its origin ; in which the divine hand was employed. It has been great in its progress ; in which the best talent and the choicest culture have found field for their exercise. It will be great in its con- clusion ; in which varied agencies in the widest use and over the broadest realms will be sum- moned to superlative activity. In any given locality, as in a single parish, the church of that place has a great work upon its hands. It is a force of civilization. The Church is anti-barbarian. Inasmuch as human nature runs into barbaric moods, tends to chaos and old night, readily takes on habits of brutality, sensual- ism, vulgarness, it must be met, checked, held back, by humanizing, civilizing processes, other- wise it would degenerate into utter barbarism. Lawlessness and lewdness and intemperance would 136 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH play havoc with the family, with government, with education, with all social order. But the Church is a force of civilization. It anchors the family among men. It inaugurates and sustains marriage. It cherishes childhood among the loves of home, and throws around youth the tender restraints of domestic affection, of filial reverence and gratitude. It stigmatizes vice, and it sustains law. Philanthropists and humanitarians, in their work for men, have found it their chief auxiliary, and have relied upon it more than upon any worldly, sumptuary or municipal agencies. A man, actuated by simply worldly, prejudicial, selfish motives, planting a town or establishing a colony, would give a lot and subscribe largely for a church. The opposite course has been tried. It was tried in a western community, and it was found that churchless, god- less society soon lost even its civilization, and pushed into the most unblushing and foul vice ; that property there was not worth holding ; that you could not get public spirit, nor private charity, nor common decency on any such basis, and that the attempt to plant society in that way was con- spicuous failure. The Church is also a force of education. I would not go so far as to claim that all good teachers are Christians ; although the facts on that point would startle you ; but I claim that all good THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 1 37 Christians are teachers, and that their life and ex- ample and influence are uplifting on society, and lead out into development and activity and the growth of the best things in men. Stephen Girard tried to plant in Philadelphia a creedless college, andforbade the entrance of any minister of the gospel within its walls, and ruled out all doctrinal Christianity from its instructions. But its presi- dents and teachers have been Christian men, and a religious service is held on every Lord's day within its classic marble halls, and its students have come forth to be members of Christian churches. The Chritianity of Philadelphia has poured all around the stone ramparts that guard like a fortification the estate of the college, and embraced it with the principles of Christ, which are stronger than those of Mr. Girard. Christian schools and homes and literature, and the lives of Christian men and women have power on rising minds. They give thought, suggest inquiry and motives and results, set men forward in endeavors, stimulate progress and cultivation. They lay the groundwork of a broad and substantial education. The Church is also a force of conversion. The example of its members has power in this direc- tion. Their prayerful, righteous lives, their up- right, daily walk, the principles which they carry into business, into politics, into social life, into domestic life, are converting principles. The child 138 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH is won to religion by the father or mother; the merchant by his brother merchant; the neighbor by his neighbor; the friend by friend. So the work of conversion goes forward. The preaching of the gospel is for this. It brings the most important truths to men, and they are influenced by them, and one by one they yield to them as they ought to yield. So congregations are saved ; so communities are transformed ; so the work of the world's salvation progresses. I do not stop now to speak of a thousand other influences which are exerted by the church in any given place. I throw out these three bold forms of its power as a civilizing, educational, conversional force, and chal- lenge for it regard in those respects. If it did nothing else it would be the foremost institution of society. If it did nothing else it should be perma- nently planted and generously sustained and suc- cessfully worked. It may be given to a man to do many other good things ; to build up a prosperous business which shall, support many people ; to beautify a city so that multitudes shall enjoy the products of nature and the works of art that he has gathered within its boundaries ; to endow a school or college which shall educate young men and women from year to year for the larger duties of life ; to open a hospital which shall be free to the sufferers in body or mind ; to donate Bibles and tracts and useful books for the daily reading THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 1 39 and sanctification of the people ; to improve the drainage, or the food, or the clothing, or the com- merce, or the products of a region. But there is nothing to which he will look back with more sat- isfaction than to the successful planting of a useful Christian church. Such a church will be an unfailing fountain of good in the community. It will lift up the place in good manners and morals ; it will encourage the refinements of life ; it will be an educator, it will foster schools and stimulate teachers, and it will send out men and books a$d cultivated men and women ; it will exert a trans- forming power on generation after generation, and perpetuate a succession of Christians. It will stand through centuries, till the millennium ; it will stand through the millennium, aiding in the work which will bring on that period and rejoicing throughout those happy ages in the victories that have been gained. There is, therefore, no better work that a man can do ; no better way in which he can appropriate money or effort than in behalf of a Christian church. He may take the broadest view and yield himself to a sympathy with the world- work of churches, the work which they are carry- ing on for the civilizing, education, conversion of all nations, and he will be a broader and better man for it. He will feel in himself the broaden- ing, elevating, inspiring influence of it. Or he may take the narrower view of the home work, the 140 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH work right around him ; and there will be enough in that to make him a good deal of a man if he will fully put himself into harmony with it. He will not need to go to Japan to find bright minds, nor to the Hottentots to find dull ones, nor to China to get hold of a great work, nor to India to find inspiration in saving men. He can have his hands full, and his heart full, and his brain full within a comfortable walk from his own step-stone, and there he can make his life powerful and emi- nently useful. The trouble is not that there is not work enough everywhere, but that we don't do it. We let things slide along; we let our neighbors slide along;* we let the church slide along; we let everything in the matter of Christian activity slide along; whereas we ought to concern ourselves with its going along and with its most successful progress. We ought not as Christians, here, to be satisfied with anything less than will satisfy our brothers in Hawaii or Constantinople : the complete elevation and Christianization of the community. One by one we should bring all these people to Christ- One by one we should have all these homes Chris- tian homes. The work on our hands is great and inviting and stimulating. For this work there is need of union. The membership of a church should be one. It should stand together and work tog-ether in this cause ; THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 141 for it is its cause and the cause of its Master. One of the old cities of Greece was built without walls. It stood on the open plain, defenceless. Other rival cities had their strong and elaborate defences, in ramparts and towers and moats and gates of brass. When one of its great citizens was asked why his city was built in that unprotected manner, he replied, "The concord of its citizens is the de- fence of the city." The united hearts of its peo- ple were its granite walls. Their lofty love was its impregnable towers. Had hostile foe approached, every Lacedaemonian body would have stood in the solid array for its protection. Such a city could not be taken. Such a city was full of strength. It was all power. We want the Lacedaemonian spirit in the Church. Union, the union of love, the union of Christian kindness, of generous straightforwardness with one another, the union that will bring us into the ranks with the ardent quickstep of volunteers, will make work easy and pleasant and successful. There is enthusiasm in the united shout: that is the voice of victory. There is momentum in the movement of the whole body, the grand progress of the tidal wave which bears everything before it. There is strength in numbers, in the presence of the whole, in the feeling that there are no laggards, that we move together. The building that is fitly framed together groweth into a temple. Beams, joists, (42 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH rafters, though of various wood, grown on differ- ent mountainsides, cut and prepared by different hands, if adjusted to each other and made to fit by the plans of the architect, and solidly united by tenons and mortices, will make a firm and durable structure. The church may be made up of differ- ent individuals, — men of culture and men of coarseness, some with learning and some without it, some with the experience and ripeness of age, and others with the freshness and rawness of youth, some with ability, and others with decided inability ; but each one has his place, and when in it he is of decided value, and contributes to the strength and beauty and usefulness of the organ- ization. The broad beam, the sleeper, the slender joist and rafter, the little pin that holds them to- gether, contribute to the solidity and grace and durability and worth of the majestic temple. The union of all the parts is essential to the growth of the structure. This union must be " in Christ," " in whom each building, several fitly framed together, growet'h into a holy temple in the Lord." The chief corner-stone is Jesus Christ. All our work must be in him and upon him. We must be one in him. Our love for one another must be sanctified by our greater love for him. Our service must spring from our joy in him and our gratitude to him. Christ must be the inspiration of our song; the motive for our labor; THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 1 43 the object of our prayer; the source of our happi- ness; the comfort of our suffering. We must be- gin with him and end in him. Real concord will come to any church through the union of all in Christ. The more each one is bound to the Sav- iour, the more will each one be bound to all the others. " In him " each stone and timber of the temple is to be fitly framed, and then it will grow into a holy temple. The strength of the Church is in its Head. Numbers cannot take the place of One. Wealth cannot make up for Him. Power cannot fill his place. Influence cannot. Young men are not sufficient. Learned men would not avail without Him. You may build on social influ- ence, on riches, on the culture of the few or the power of the many, on the multitude of the young, on worldly maxims, on philosophy; but the true architecture is of Christ. He must be the foun- dation-stone, and the manifold hearts of Chris- tians that make up the rising temple must be cemented in love to Him. Here is strength and durability and beauty as well. Christ is the true Lord. On an old Swiss coin was the device, a stalwart soldier leaning on a mighty sword, with the inscription, " Deus -providebit" The strong sol- dier and the tempered blade ! her sturdy sons and their true weapons ! not these are the real strength of Switzerland. Her granite mountains rise grand- 144 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH \y around and her puissant soldiers can defend every pass. But not in these is the glory and strength of the republic. God will take care ! The strength of the hills is his. The might of the bold soldiery comes from Omnipotence. " A mighty fortress is our God." " God is the refuge of his saints." We build on Christ. He is our corner-stone. In him alone is strength and salva- tion. The Church is strong because its Head is strong. We overcome in his might. The soldier is well: we must have him. And the true sword of tempered steel : we must have that. But Deus -providebit. Christ is more. He is all. Without him all else were vain. With him all else will prosper. In all our work let us put him foremost. Let the love we bear to Christ be first. For his sake let us labor; for his sake win others to him. There is no holy temple unless he is its founda- tion. There is no saved world unless he is its Saviour. There are no burdens lifted unless the Burden-bearer takes them. "Lazarus lies unfed and fainting — Peter sinks beneath the wave ; Loving Mary lingers sadly near the Saviour's guarded grave ; Blind Bartimeus, by the wayside, begs his bread disconsolate ; P'or the moving of the waters, at the pool the suffering wait; In the wilderness the lepers wander, outcast, in their pain; Paul and Silas, in the prison, bear the fetter and the chain; Mary Magdalene is weeping, friendless in her sin and shame ; But their burdens all were lifted when the Burden-bearer came." THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 1 45 This church in entering anew upon Christian work within its home field is entering upon no untried or novel enterprise. We know that true labor here yields harvest. We have a fivefold work : First, in respect to our membership. There are members of this church who are not with us, who do not even worship with us, who have lost their place and, I do not doubt, have lost their comfort and Christian joy. Let us bring the wan- derers back to the Lord and to us. There are those here who should become members with us. Let us show them that we are their brethren and give them the right hand of affectionate fellowship. Secondly, in respect to our children, that they may be all taught of God and may be gathered with us. Thirdly, in respect to the poor and the sick, that we may kindly administer to them in the Master's name and cheer them in their loneliness and pain. Fourthly, in respect to the multitude who have no church home, attend on no public worship, care not for these things nor for their souls. Let iis be God's missionaries to them and by the love that moves our brethren in China and Japan and Micronesia seek the salvation of these who are at our own doors. Fifthly, in respect to strangers, those who have 146 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH come to this place from other places, who have left dear friends and beloved churches and pleas- ant associations and settled by our side. Let us make them feel that here, too, they are among friends who will love them, who will gladly do them service, who will help them on the way to the other shore. Let us make our pleasant places pleasant places for them, so that they shall not regret that they have cast anchor in this haven : so that here they shall see the Lord in his follow- ers and with them experience the joy of his presence. This is our fivefold work. Into it we must put the resolution to do it, zeal to crowd it forward, energy as in any business, and determination to be thorough in it and to actually accomplish it. Back of it we must put our tender, earnest, be- lieving prayer, sensible that not our efforts nor our union can avail to build up the church or to save souls without the help of God ; that it is not by human might nor power, but by the Spirit of God, that these services of ours can be made effective. Then will the blessing come, full-flooded, pouring from the boundless Source, and filling all our hearts. May God hasten it and glorify his name ! The apostle, in this figure, compares the Church to a temple ; its growth to the upbuilding of a large and costly structure. Whether this epistle THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 147 is correctly inscribed to the Ephesians or not, those to whom he wrote were familiar with the architectural glories of Greece. The magnificent temples, whose stately and beautiful proportions rose high over all other works, were the pride and crown of the rival and regal cities in which flourished and bloomed in such perfect maturity the high art of the ancient world. But there was no temple like that at Ephesus. The glories of Athens and the splendors of Corinth could not equal it. It was one of the wonders of the world. The sun in all his course looked down on nothing so magnificent. Its fame filled the nations and men from foreign lands sought it with enthusiasm. It stood at the head of the harbor and the sheen of its white walls glistened upon the sea. It was built in the beautiful Ionic style whose graceful forms and proportions are so grateful to the genius of the Asiatic Greek. Its immense foundations were carefully laid. It was designed by the most accomplished architects. It was 425 feet in length and 220 in breadth. It had 127 columns of choicest marble and each of them was the gift of a king. All the Greek cities of Asia contributed to its erection. A rich foreign king gave his munificent donation. Its doors were of cypress wood. Its roof was of cedar. Its stair- case was made of the wood of a single vine from Cyprus. The ladies of Ephesus gave their jewelry 148 THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH toward its erection. The finest pictures and statues of the artists adorned it. It was the glory of Ephesus. Alexander offered to give the spoils of a cam- paign to it if only his name might be inscribed upon the temple, but it was not permitted. No name could add to its peerless glory. No wealth could place a human name upon its divine walls. It contained within its vaults gems and jewels and gold greater than the wealth of many kings. A thousand years were spent in its erection and adornment. But the apostle saw a diviner Temple. Its foun- dations were laid by no human hands. God was its Architect. It covered the world with its mag- nificent proportions. Its fame was to go out among the principalities and powers of other worlds. All lands were to contribute to it. Kings were to be its patrons and queens its bene- factors. The songs within it were to be in all the tongues of men. Prayer should ascend unceas- ingly from its altars. It would be the glory and joy of the whole earth. Above all it would be the habitation of God. The Divine Spirit would dwell within it. My brethren : We are the living stones of this temple. Within us dwells the Holy Spirit. Are we the fit habitation of such a guest? Do we cherish his presence? Do we honor him in all our THE UPBUILDING OF THE CHURCH 1 49 thoughts and plans? Is our daily life pleasing to him ? Are our words and acts, our business, our ambitions, our pleasures, honorable to him? For the upbuilding of this temple, in our day, let us unweariedly labor! Our names, the hum- blest name among us, ma)' go upon its walls. In its eternal wealth we may all freely share. IX THE POWER OF THE CHURCH ''Ye shall receive power, when the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea and Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth." — Acts I : 8. At Quarter-Century Anniversary. THE POWER OE THE CHURCH Rival forces, in ceaseless antagonism, are strug- gling for the mastery of the world. In manifold methods and with varying fortunes, through the ages, under the control of divine Providence, the conflict proceeds. It proceeds, at one period, through the wrestling of opposing thought ; and at another period through the clash of opposing arms; now by the setting up of institutions which are to live and grow old and control the civiliza- tion of states ; and then through the overthrow of prerogative and dynasty and social order. It proceeds, at one era, under the leadership of a single imperial mind, marshaling other minds in obedience to its genius ; and at another era by the simultaneous movement of whole masses, swayed by a common principle and enforcing a common purpose ; now by revolutions that seem to receive their impetuosity from below; and then by regen- erations which are characterized by their divine origin, and which carry blessings, wherever they are effective, to mankind. Great periods in his- 154 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH tory are marked by the rise and success of domi- nating systems, which, for the time, move the world ; by the life and deeds of great men whose conquering footsteps reverberate around the globe ; by the power and intensity of ideas which project themselves into the life, the language, the litera- ture, the whole rational being, of peoples. Who shall rule the world? What shall be supreme? These are the questions, not of this day only, but of all time. Power is what men want. To con- quer the world has been the supreme ambition. The place of power — that is the place where crowns are. Palaces hold it; courts surround it ; honors wait on it ; greatest things are tributary to it. Milton is the secretary of Cromwell ; the mightier serves the mighty ! Kings are not those only who mount the world's thrones. The royalest kingship is that of mind. The King of kings rules by moral power. He holds physical forces in his omnipotent hand, so that he who made all worlds could destroy all worlds; but his divinest regality is his lordship of minds that are free. Christ taught his disciples that they were in the world to overcome the world ; that his kingdom, which the\- were to advance, was a conquering kingdom ; and that power would be given to them to make it successful to the uttermost part of the earth. The text indicates the substance of their power, the source from which it was to be THE POWER OF THE CHURCH I 5 5 derived, and the sphere in which it was to be exercised. In its SUBSTANCE it is whatever efficiency was necessary for their success. It included, in the apostolic era, control over natural laws and interfer- ence with their normal working, the mighty power of miracles, as though even the divine prerogatives were transferred to them ; but it included, also, the wide range of influence which belongs to all eras, by which man controls his fellow man, the power of earnest, vigorous, intelligent mind over all other minds in arresting attention, swaying affections, and even forcing the unforced will. In its source it is divine ; either the power of the Holy Ghost being directly imparted to the disci- ples, or giving extraordinary efficiency to their own capabilities by his influence upon them, so ihat it might be truly said that their success is not by might, nor by power, but by the Spirit of the Lord. In its SPHERE it is world-wide, encompassing the uttermost parts of the earth, and solving the re- demption of the race. It is a power wrought in the home field, wrought in the foreign field as well, both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Sama- ria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. My subject is : The Pozver of the Church to take Possession of the World. And I wish to make this subject practical by insisting that it is the duty of Christians to use this 156 THE POWER OK THE CHURCH power, now. The time is upon us when the world should be taken for Christ. The prayer, " Thy kingdom come," instead of referring in a slow and general way to some remote millennium, whose golden light no magnifying glass is powerful enough yet to discover, should be offered with the expectation of its immediate answering. The promises, which embrace the subjection of all kingdoms and powers to the one Lord of all, should be interpreted as capable of fulfilment in the midst of the marvels that are now transpiring. We have a historical demonstration of what can be done in the early spread of Christianity . The apostles and early Christians regarded the power which they received as power to be used and to be made effective. They welcomed the bestowal of the Holy Spirit because his aid, his divine working in them, was essential to their success as the promulgators of the gospel. Securing this promised and blessed agency they entered vigor- ously and victoriously upon the conquest of the world. Never were the obstacles greater. Never was opposition more firmly entrenched. Judaism, hoary with age, defiant in its enmity, stood on the one hand. Heathenism, dominant and strong, and holding the centers of learning and power, stood on the other hand. Both were leagued against Christianity. Bigotry, philosophy, power; Jeru- salem, Athens, Rome; all were to be met, all were THE POWER OF THE CHURCH I 57 to be mastered. The early Christians did not falter. With a sublime courage, with a genuine enthusiasm, with a peerless patience, with an undoubting confidence, through perils of the most formidable character, at the loss of all things but their own fidelity, they carried their cause forward. They carried it forward until it was the foremost force in the world ; until in Jerusalem it was greater than Judaism ; until in Athens Christ was greater than Plato ; until in Rome the mighty emperor wore above his crown a cross. They suffered, but the cause prospered. They endured martyrdom, but their principles were crowned. Their death gave new life to the gospel. It held on its conquering way and the world yielded to its mastery. This wonderful success of the first Christian ages stands out in the forefront of history as a demonstration of the power of the Church to take possession of the world ; to retake the world. That which was done, may again be done. That which was done, must again be done. We have the same cause ; we have the same glori- ous Leader ; we need only the same energizing Spirit, only the same grace of Christ, only the same indwelling and outgoing word of God ; the three onlys of the great historian. We have also the repeated demonstration of what can be done by the energizing -pozver of the Holy Spirit in the disciples. This was seen at 158 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH first; it has been repeatedly seen in subsequent experience. Christ taught his apostles that it was expedient for them that he should go away, for if he did not depart the Comforter would not come to them. When the Spirit came, the apostles became new men. A transformation, like a new birth, passed upon them. They rose to a grander stature, and they undertook a wider work. Peter, in the very presence of Christ, denied him. When the Spirit came he was the bold champion of his Master everywhere. When the Spirit came, power came. And then these few and feeble disciples coped successfully with every form of opposition. Not only did the Spirit work in them to give them personal power, but he worked with the word they uttered to give it power wherever it went, so that it was indeed the word of God, quick and power- ful, overcoming and renewing. The pentecostal 'seasons, when thousands yielded to the word of one ; the great revivals, which have come after great declensions, breaking up worldliness and indifference and formality, giving reality to- this life and solemn meaning to the life to come, awakening interest and earnestness and profound anxiety as to the soul and its readiness to stand face to face with God, clothing the word of God with the deepest significance, and bringing great multitudes to seek salvation as the one thing need- ful, testify to this power of the Spirit. It may be THE POWER OF THE CHURCH I 59 simultaneously, everywhere put forth. We who labor in this land, our honored brethren in older lands, our sons and daughters who have gone with the Word to newest lands, all may feel his reviving, sanctifying power, may see his renewing, saving power, at one time, bringing multitudes to Christ, giving birth to nations in a day, and making the world's conquest complete. What we have wit- nessed, the marvelous events that are already recorded of the work of the Holy Spirit on indi- vidual minds, on masses of men, on communities, on whole peoples, predict the rapid conversion of the world when the time shall come for the full putting forth of his wonderful energy. Then the work shall go forward as in a geometrical ratio. One circle of holy influence shall widen until it shall sweep within the circumference of another, and these again shall roll within the orbits of others still, and so broadening and revolving they shall encompass the globe with their luminous lines. On this divine aid the Church can rely in its work of making conquest of the world. Christians are possessors of this gift of grace. The Holy Spirit is promised to them. He comes in the place of Christ. He comes to be the Leader of Christ's own. What Christ would do were he with us in his personal presence, the Spirit will now do for us. And so soon as we learn to rely on him 160 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH and cooperate with him, great and marvelous re- sults may be expected, — nothing less than the possession of the world for its Lord. It has fallen to my lot of late to spend several communion Sabbaths with the church with which I was first connected in my native city, and to administer to it the sacrament of the Supper. Jt is a large church, of over 400 members, embracing a great deal of mental ability, of social and worldly strength, and of spiritual resource. There are some men in it of remarkable talent. As I was standing by the communion table, on the first Sab- bath of the year, looking over that great and intelli- gent body of ^Christians as they passed out of the beautiful church, the oldest officer of the church, who was standing by me, remarked: " There is power here." Yes; that remark was full of sug- gestion : power enough there to take and hold that city for Christ. And it belongs to those Christians, with their brethren of other denomina- tions, to do it. It is reported by a Methodist brother of- some Unitarian ministers who looked on at a recent camp- meeting, that they were heard to say, ''If we only had this power of faith, we could take the world." They recognized the divine mastery of a principle in the glowing hearts around them which should subdue the world. A great deal of important -preliminary work has THE POWER OF THE CHURCH \6\ already been accomplished toward this conquest and in recognition of its approach. I refer briefly to a few symbols of it. The churches which are builded for Christian worship sustain an analogous relation in this conquest to that which fortresses do to the military occupation of a country. They stand as the fortifications of truth, as the maga- zines of influence, as the citadels of power. They are planted on the most conspicuous and accessi- ble sites. They are often made very attractive and impressive in their size, proportions and adornments. Christian architecture, in the vast and imposing cathedrals, in the beautiful and homelike churches, on which hard earnings and regal wealth have been expended, providing ren- dezvous and attractive accessories of worship and accustoming the people to the idea of Christ's Lordship, has done much to prepare the way for, and to familiarize the mind with, the Christian con- quest of the world. So of the public, secular recognition of religion. The practice, in Christian states, of associating the ministers of religion with important events, as by their public prayers at the organization of impor- tant deliberative assemblies, at the beginning of great national works, of social or industrial or edu- cational institutions, accustoms the people to the recognition of God, and carries his claims to their attention into the daily and significant affairs of 162 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH life. So is he acknowledged as Lord. A step further, is the world's possession by him. And more important is the authority given to the Bible. It is recognized as a sacred book. Its words, sounding down all the centuries, freighted with the joys and griefs and exultant hopes and victories of saints through past millenniums, vocal even with the thoughts of angels, and full of the expression of Christ himself, are accepted as the Word of God. The Bible is the stronghold of Christianity. The churches could not maintain themselves without it. Infidelity, spiritism, every antagonist system, smites at the Bible ; scoffs at this divine Word ; would weaken, would gladly de- stroy its authority. It stands, the same old Bible, with the memory of the dead in it ; with the warm loves of childhood in it ; with the woe of our trials reverberating in its melancholy experiences; and the joys of our better days ringing in its psalms and prophecies like chimes of musical bells above the lower life, stands. It is always God's Word. The better life of the people is in it. On it are sworn the oaths which make our courts of justice our palladiums. The magistrate has power be- cause the Bible is. The nation has its foundation on this book which is laid in the corner-stones of its temples and its capitals. Its words are like choice music which we cannot forget; its promises are like faces that ever beam on us in their remem- THE POWER OF THE CHURCH [63 bered expression ; it is like a life within our life, warming and refreshing and invigorating us. The hold of the Bible on the popular mind is a most auspicious signal of the conquest of the world by the Church. It has prepared the way for all labor. It is as though the fortresses of the country to be gained were already carried. The power of the Church over the world may be made efficient by manifold methods. It be- longs to it to exercise power over -popular thought. The learning of the world is largely within the Church. Science finds its most earnest students among those who believe in Him who made all things. The wide and captivating fields of litera- ture are enthusiastically cultivated by those who reverence the revelation of God. To our great scholars, to our cultured penmen, and our accom- plished orators and our devout scientists, is com- mitted the task of giving the world correct ideas and of molding public opinion. It is for them to* demonstrate the true science and to advance the wise theory of life and to chasten the imagination. On all subjects which summon forth the popular thought they are to be leaders; on the one hand assailing and controverting specious and false notions, and on the other advocating and estab- lishing safe and sound theories, whether within the domain of this life, or related to the life unseen and eternal. 164 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH It belongs to it also to possess an educational power on the rising and advancing mind. Chris- tians have seen the importance of this force in the world, and, wise in their day, they have laid the endowment of schools by the endowment of churches, and furnished books as they have fur- nished sermons for the training of minds that are advancing into influence and control. This power must not be lost; it must rather be nurtured and augmented. Not by the secularizing of our schools and universities are we to fulfill our mis- sion in our day ; rather by the more perfect Chris- tianizing of them. Let earnest Christian scholars stand at the head of them, and let the Bible be an undoubted authority within them. T remem- ber once to have heard, at the morning worship in Christ Church College, at Oxford, a college which was founded by Cardinal Wolsey, that most tender and sublime anthem, " 1 will arise and go unto my Father," subduingiy rendered by accomplished singers, with a grand organ accompaniment, lead- ins", as it would seem, truant, lost souls back to their Father. And \ felt that if Christ's precious words were day by day so sounding through those ancient halls of learning, where, too, the memory of some of Christ's most faithful witnesses ever lives, that Oxford, however perverted, must be held back, brought back, to Christ. Not the old universities only and old communities must be THE POWER OF THE CHURCH 1 65 educated for Christ; but especially must rising communities and the new institutions be taught and held for him. It belongs to the Church also to retain power in social and national life ; in social life, making Christian principles dominant, and so regulating the morals and manners of the people ; in politi- cal life, holding, if nothing more, the balance of power in such way as to keep good men in official station, and to secure integrity and uprightness in civil affairs. Franklin, writing, at a critical era, from Philadelphia to his brother in Boston, spoke of the prayers of Christians in New England as " giving a vast balance in favor" of what he and they deemed to be the right side. These prayers were simultaneous with the assembling of a strong- land and naval force to act for the same purpose as the prayers. This power of the Church may also be efficiently used in direct efforts to save men. For this, in- deed, is the Church. Its object is to save the world. The work of individual Christians should be to secure the salvation of others, of the lost ones, of all the lost; like the Lord, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. Knowing the grace of Christ, it is for them to carry that grace to those for whom he died, even as he died for them. Here, in fact, is the divinest power of the Church ; here is 1 66 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH the work which lifts them closest to the side of Christ. Some statements have been made in respect to the rapidity with which the world can be taken by this work of conversion. It has been stated that in this land, where one seventh of the population are Christians, if each one of these should, under God, bring six persons to Christ during the next year, at the end of the year the land would be wholly converted. Also, that if one Christian should lead one soul to Christ in a year, the two, two more in the second year, and so on in this ratio, before the end of a single lifetime the whole world would be converted. Further, that if five hundred thousand should each work effectively for one soul yearly, and so on, in thirteen years the world would be saved. Such results as these, by the divine blessing, are not too much to expect. They are within the compass of a faithful Church. The experience of the faithful, earnest Church warrants their fulfil- ment. Ah, the faithful, earnest Church ! A distinguished politician, who was accustomed to carry elections, who had been the governor of his state and for many years her senator in con- gress, whose fiery, impetuous eloquence swayed the masses and bore down opposition, once chanced to attend the meeting of a Bible society. THE POWER OF THE CHURCH 1 67 A deplorable account was given of Bible destitu- tion. The old senator heard the lifeless narrative and sprang to the floor, requesting to be heard. In bold language he charged upon the brethren that they were not in earnest. Said he, " In the great contest for the election of Harrison, we Whig members of Congress gave our whole salaries to earn- that election. We thought the salvation of the country depended upon it. If you want to carry on this work, and really mean that every man shall have the Bible, you must go to work and give every man the Bible." The assem- bly was electrified ; the senator was at once made president of the society, and it was not again re- ported that a single family in that county was without the Bible. The earnest church can save the world. In one of the old libraries of Philadelphia, I have read a foreign work on "The Glorious Re- covery by the Vaudois of their Valleys," by Henri Arnaud, their pastor and commander. Nearly two centuries ago the Duke of Savoy undertook to banish them from their wild valleys where they had long maintained their simple and faithful worship. They clung to their altars and their homes and their magnificent mountains. Four- teen thousand of this devoted people were thrown into prison. Three thousand only survived, and thev went out from their old abodes with broken l68 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH hearts, homeless, solitary wanderers. They took refuge in Switzerland and Germany ; but they were not at home. Their hearts were over the mountains, and the verdant valleys lay green in their longing thought. The songs of the wild tor- rents rang in their regretful memories, and no music could charm them away. The snow-clad summits, brilliant in golden sunlight, rose white and pure to their open-eyed vision. The starry heavens which bent and glowed and smiled above Lucerne and St. Martin and Perouse were reflected in their tearful eyes, as in the lakes that lay be- neath them. The swift streams that burst coldly from the blue glaciers rushed not more impetu- ously forward than did their hearts go bounding back. Every grave of the sweet valleys drew them, every home called for them, every footpath on the steep mountainside summoned them ; voices of the air and of the woods, and of the mountain flowers, voices of kindred, and of passionate love, and of true religion whispered and wailed and cried for their return. The Vaudois would go. Three times, against desperate odds, they made the attempt. Twice they were turned back in utter defeat. The third time they were successful. Eight hundred armed men, their solitary hope, crossed Lake Geneva and began the passage of the Alps to recover their lost, loved valleys. Thousands of troops and all THE POWER OF THE CHURCH 169 the inhabitants of the land opposed them. Over the mountains, across the swift streams, through the valleys, in prayer, in arms, with one solemn purpose, with one masterful loVe, they pushed right on. Even' day was one of toil. Every day was one of battle. Sometimes their way was through the trackless snow. It was reddened with their blood. They passed over precipices where no foe dared to follow. Their number grew less as their valleys drew near. At length they entered them. With thanks but not with peace their feet stood again upon the dear soil. Hostile troops in overwhelming numbers were moved against them. Driven from one valley and then from another, they seized and fortified the towering Balsi, a mighty pinnacle of rock, and there kept up their tireless defence through the long -months of winter. When extermination seemed inevitable, they fled, but still kept sight, on the mountains, of their own valleys. Finally the offer of peace came, and they recovered their valleys. Libert}' of conscience was guaranteed. The gospel was again preached. These faithful witnesses for the truth were kept for the work of our day. Such faith and love and undying earnestness recovered the valleys of Piedmont. Such faith and love and holy earnestness would recover the world. Can we doubt it? To a weak faith the work seems immense, per- I70 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH haps impossible. But with our God all things arc possible. A few years ago I stood here, the citi- zen of a land cursed beyond the power of expres- sion by a system of human bondage, against which I bore earnest testimony, but for deliverance from which I saw no possibility. But deliverance came. It came in the throes and agonies of protracted war, protracted till we could learn well the terrible lesson of our crime and till blows had fallen for every bondman's lash, and blood of freemen had answered for the blood of slaves. A new nation, purged by fire, tried by the ordeal of battle, took its place in history. God gave the nation a new birth. In a few years was effected the reorganiza- tion of state and society. A few months ago the Papal power ruled in Rome, upheld by the support of an empire which stood at the head of the world. The prestige of French power was upon all the nations. In a fatal hour the perjured emperor, in the folly of a self-confidence which proved his ruin, threw down the gauntlet before a Protestant kingdom, invoking the arbitrament of battle. The land of Luther resented the imperial insult and rose unit- edly in arms. The spiked helmets of the Ger- man warriors crossed the Rhine and bristled in the gardens of the Tuileries. The armies, the power, the prestige of France, were overthrown ; the Ger- man empire, great and glorious, rose to the first THE POWER OF THE CHURCH \Jl rank among the nations. It is difficult to com- prehend the magnitude of this revolution. Al- ready Rome has passed into other hands, and the children of the Vaudois proclaim the gospel of the valleys in its churches. Already another reforma- tion is sweeping through Germany. A Protestant power stands at the head of the world. All this predicts great changes yet to be. All this demon- strates the possibility of changes which may revo- lutionize the world, and give the kingdom to the Son of God. As in a day there may be the up- heaval of institutions, powers, peoples, whole races of mankind. As in a day superstitions, idolatries, old religions, may be subverted and pass into for- getfulness. As in a day the people of the Most High may come to rule the world. Surely, what we have seen in our own time may take away our unbelief, and give us confidence in Him who rules the world in the interest of his truth and of his people. Twenty-five years ago to-day, at this very hour, it fell to my lot to receive ordination as the minister of this church. And when lately invited by your honored pastor to stand once more in the old place and to speak to you as long ago, it seemed fit and pleasant that I should select this sacred hour, so full of undying memories, so sug- gestive to us all. That day of ordination was a day of wondrous beauty : it heralded a work 172 THE POWER OF THE CHURCH which went forward for more than fourteen years. Of the beloved ministers who took part in the in- teresting services, only two survive, one of whom is my neighbor still, in Philadelphia, and one of whom is your neighbor and fellow citizen. Of the officers and members of the church at that time, the majority, I suppose, are no longer here. Some things remain. The same skies bend over you with their blazing constellations. The same hills rise on this landscape of charming beauty. The same tides ebb and flow in the river and the sea. This Bible changes not. The same old, old story sounds on with its unchanging love. Christ is the same yesterday and to-day and forever. The Holy Spirit, whose work we often saw wrought with wondrous power, still dwells among us and still wins all our hearts to repentance and faith. But during this quarter of a century there have been wonderful changes. Many who were with us and were dear to us have exchanged this world for heaven, and all their experience is new. I recall the blessed peace of dying ones, their victory of faith, their delightful foresight of the glorious land. 1 have referred to the change that has passed over our land, for the fulfilment of our liberty, in which you also bore a part on land and sea, and for which you gave your quota of heroes ; also to some changes in older lands. Sweeping a wider THE POWER OF THE CHURCH 1/3 field, through this quarter-century, we see so much accomplished, so many evolutions wrought, that a new world stands before us. And greater marvels shall transpire. God's divine plans are to move on, and revolutions are to transform the world. In His work, let us, my friends, old and new, be on the right side, which is, in the long run, the win- ning side. " He always wins who sides with God." Let us, as faithful to the Lord, be among the fore- most who shall take possession of the world and win its crowns for Christ. X OUR FOREFATHERS We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, What work thou didst in their days, in the days of old. Thou didst drive out the nations with thy hand, and plantedst them in ; Thou didst afflict the peoples, and didst spread them abroad. For they gat not the land in possession by their own sword, Neither did their own arm save them : But thy right hand, and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance, Because thou hadst a favour unto them." Psalms 44 : I -3 . New Haven and Philadelphia. OUR FOREFATHERS I am to speak to you to-day of the Forefathers of ' JVezv England. It is something to have forefathers who are worth)' of our commemoration, of whom we can speak with pride and affectionate remembrance. Other peoples trace back their lineage to a base root, to a supine and savage ancestry. Rome, Sparta, the ancient states, as a disguise for the meanness of their origin, claimed to have sprung from the gods, the gods having no existence save in fancy and in fable. The modern empires, France, Russia, Austria, and their rivals, have struggled up to their eminences from barbaric beginnings, and if their people were to celebrate the founding of their dynasties, they would look back into the gloom and degradation of ancient savage ness. It is our fortune, as the people of New England, to have as the fathers and founders of our com- monwealths men of condition and of character; men learned, religious, puissant, heroic ; men who could look difficulties and dangers in the face without flinching; men who. like seers, scanned 178 OUR FOREFATHERS the future and acted in view of what was to come ; men who, by their courtly manners, their scholarly tastes, their muscular strength and their nervous faith, would have graced any state in its most polished period. One can hardly help feeling, in tracing the history of our beginning, in limning the early actors on our soil, that, with all our boasted progress, it would be difficult, in many most essential qualities, to match them by their successors of any generation so far. The stal- wart and soldierly persons of our forefathers were only representatives, of their sturdy and masculine minds. They loom forth in history with a gran- deur of character and a strength of achievement which it were hard to parallel from their posterity. Two hundred and thirty-nine years ago a vessel of one hundred and eighty tons' burden rode at anchor off Cape Cod. Its destination was orig- inally many leagues farther southward ; but by stress of weather, or through the ignorance or malice of its master, it was providentially brought to the white coasts of New England. On the 21st day of December, 1620,- a landing was made on Plymouth Rock, and it was decided that there the Puritan colonization of the continent should com- mence. Those words, " Mayflower," " Plymouth Rock," " the 21st of December," have become his- toric and memorable. That humble landing was OUR FOREFATHERS I 79 the beginning of a people now numbered by mil- lions and characterized for their intelligence, free- dom, enterprise, learning, religion, manhood, be- nevolence. That date was the birthday of New England, whose homes and schools and churches and states are not only honored by its own sons, but are commended by strangers as well. Let us look back a little from this point; let us retrace the track of the Mayflower and land on the Old World from which it sailed, that we may see what it was that drove this white-winged vessel, like a shivering sea-bird in the wintry gale, upon the stormy capes of New England. It was the work that was going on in Old England that led to the founding of the New England. That sea-girt island was then swept by storms wilder than those that dashed the surges of the deep in thunder upon its rocky promontories. The refor- mation was undergoing a new reform. The Church of England was getting an investigation such as the Church of Rome had had. Schooled for cen- turies by the use of the Bible in the vernacular tongue and by liberty to think and act for itself, the British mind was ready to carry out to legiti- mate conclusions the principles that had been enunciated by the Reformers and that commended themselves to the sound sense of the thoughtful people. The lessons which Episcopacy had given in its withdrawal from Papacy and in its l8o OUR FOREFATHERS own separate establishment, were those which were put into practice by an intelligent and pow- erful minority of the Church of England. In this minority were nobles of the land, were learned and salaried clergymen and even bishops of the Church. They had discernment to see that the Church of England was but half reformed, and that the ideas which were fostered by many of its observances were drifting the nation back into the embrace of Rome. To us, the things which disturbed and distracted the nation may seem trivial. The giving the ring in marriage, the sign- ing of the cross in baptism, the kneeling in par- taking of the eucharist, the wearing of the sacer- dotal robes, have not the meaning and the ten- dency now that they had then. In those times they were significant emblems of Romish influence and authority, they were the links that held the Church to a false system, they were the small signs which pointed to great prin- ciples. Later in history it was a little matter which apparently brought on the clash of arms between this and the mother country, an insigni- ficant tax which the country could have paid without feeling it. But that tax stood as the sign of principles back of it which were vital and important, and for which the Revolution was carried through at immense expenditures. So when Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, determined OUR FOREFATHERS I 8 I to refuse the Episcopate rather than to wear the Episcopal robes, he was not standing for a mere form, he was not refusing an insignificant habit merely. To him those robes were the badges of Rome, and if he had put them on he would have worn the livery of the mother of abominations. I need not illustrate this further. Puritanism was the assertion of freedom from Popery. It was the maintenance of Christianity against the Church. It was the return to the Bible from the priests, to Christ from his false vicar. Non-conformity was Puritanism put into practice. Prelates, distinguished ministers, the most gifted and devoted in the English Church, in many cases, refused to conform to the demands of the state upon them for the strict observance of ecclesiastical practices which they deemed wrong. They asserted their liberty. They met the tyranny of their rulers with the firmness of prin- ciple and faith. They stood for their rights as British men. They were Christian freemen, and the iron rule of Tudor or Stuart could not make them swerve. Ejection from high and pleasant places, persecution to torture and to death, per- petual exile from home and native land, had no terrors to them compared with treachery to con- science and to God. The contest went on until, in the language of New England's latest historian, " The law of Eng- 1 82 • OUR FOREFATHERS land declared England to be uninhabitable by non-conformists." Separatism, the withdrawing from the state church and the observance of inde- pendent worship, followed. Worse and worse grew the times, more gloomy became the pros- pect, the alternative was persecution and death at home or exile abroad. Grave and intelligent men were planning for a foreign residence in some land where they could in peace enjoy their belief and their worship, and erect a commonwealth which should secure to them the privileges now denied in their native land. Then commenced the exodus of our forefathers from old England. It was a great thing for them to leave such a country. There were the strong- built churches and the stately cathedrals in which they had worshiped. There were the fair homes over which trailed the rose and the ivy, and the hedge-fenced fields lying like gardens around them. There were the schools and the venerable universities in which they had studied. There were the great treasures which art and commerce and British arms and industry had accumulated in the ancient kingdom. There were the graves of their fathers and their near kindred, of kings and good men and martyrs, whom they revered. There were the friends whom they had cherished, few of whom could go with them. There was the country they loved, whose history was dear to OUR FOREFATHERS I 83 them, for which they had done battle, and for which they would willingly die, and which they would continue to call home wherever they should go. But they left all behind them. In small companies, in disguises, by artifice, through per- sonal daring they fled from the tyranny of the English Church and state to lands where they could worship God in freedom. Many of them went to Holland, which after a long and terrible struggle had driven the Spanish tyrants from its territory, and now gave the English Pilgrims a cordial Dutch welcome. To that land our fore- fathers first went. A congregation that had worshiped at Scrooby in Nottinghamshire was the honored mother of us all. Unwilling to bear the intolerable oppres- sion of the times, its members in 1607 decided to pass over to Holland. Against many difficulties they at length succeeded. There went with them their pastor, Richard Clifton, who had been an honored rector in the English Church, and their teacher, John Robinson, who was a man of emi- nent learning, virtue and wisdom, and whose ability as a scholar and a logician attracted much notice among the polemics of Holland. To their company belonged also William Brewster, who had before visited the Low Countries as an attend- ant of the English ambassador. The exiled flock was first folded at Amsterdam. That opulent city 184 OUR FOREFATHERS was then a great commercial emporium. Palaces lined its canals, which flowed through lines of overshadowing trees, and on which rode ships laden with the wealth of a world-wide traffic. In its streets and thronged marts were sailors and merchants with the costume and language of many lands. All was new to our Puritan forefathers. They were strangers in a strange land, the tongue of whose people was foreign to them, as were also their manners and attire. They applied them- selves lustily to labor for a livelihood, and in a few months removed to Leyden, forty miles from Amsterdam. That was the city which had en- dured so terrible a siege in the Spanish War, when famine, pestilence and despair swept away its determined citizens. But more than a generation had passed since that, and 70,000 people now inhabited it. In quietness and with the esteem of the people our forefathers resided there for twelve years. But they were not at home. More than all, they felt for their children, who were drawn away from their pious practices by the temptations of the great city and the new land. For their sake, more than for their own, they desired an- other country, though it were a wilderness and the home of savage men. They looked longingly across the floods to the new world ; they thought that there they might be the founders of a realm OUR FOREFATHERS I 85 in which the greatest blessings would be secured for their posterity. Religious freedom was to them the greatest possession, and they were will- ing to encounter the sea, the wilderness, the sav- age, any perils, that they might have it. At length, overcoming many obstacles, after man)' prayers, with the blessing of their pastor, who was left behind with the majority of the flock, they left the shores of Holland, and the white cliffs of England, one hundred and two souls on the May-flower. They did not look back, but their eyes, during all their long voyage, were strained toward the west, the land of promise, to which across the flood they believed their God was lead- ing them. Dwelling in these cultured cities and towns of ours, where our Puritan civilization has been doing its work for almost two centuries and a half, it is not easy to grasp the greatness of their adventure who first settled on these shores. It was in the midst of a New England winter when they de- barked. Houses were to be reared, fuel provided, food in some way obtained. Around them was the wilderness, its unknown recesses crowded with savages. They were to be workmen ; they were also to be soldiers. Women and children were to be provided for. Everything crowded upon them and there were man)' obstacles, in the season, in their want of supplies, in their lack of boats and I 86 OUR FOREFATHERS other necessary things. Sickness came, and almost one half of their number were sadly buried. At times nearly all of the little colony were prostrated so that not more than six or seven persons were able to wait upon the sick and bury the dead It seemed as though they were to be swept away. But there were stout hearts among them who bore up in the strength of the Lord. At length the weary winter wore away. The birds sang in the forests, the brooks leaped in their shining channels, the sunshine started the emerald verdure; spring gushed over New Eng- land and the warm light shimmered on its seas. The lone survivors took heart. Early in April, the Mayflower weighed anchor* shook out its furled sails to the breeze and with the half of its crew who had survived the winter, pointed its prow toward old England. Not a solitary emigrant returned in the vessel. Gloomy as the winter had been, severe as was the promise for the future, they stood firmly by their new set- tlement. It was not a rash adventure upon which they had come to these coasts. They were moved by manly and religious principle, and difficulties did not deter them. In their own lofty language they held " that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and must be both enterprised and overcome with answerable courages." Before they were reinforced fifty-one, OUR FOREFATHERS I 87 just one half of their number, were laid with the dead. Such was the first chapter in New England his- tory. England was great and prosperous. Peace and plenty dwelt in all the kingdom. No happier land lay beneath the sun. But there were Eng- lishmen, who, though they prized these material and social blessings, prized one thing higher. Liberty ! What were all other things without that? Too well had they studied the Bible, too well had they read the history of the past, too well had they cherished the rights of Englishmen, to accept any lower boon in the place of that. For sweet and holy liberty they would abandon all that old, happy, enlightened England could give them ; they would court the perils of the sea and the wilderness and the heathen. The emigration to New England went on. From Holland, from the towns of England, great numbers came over to join their brethren and friends. They were a noble class of men who engaged in the planting of New England. There are persons who decry the forefathers, who reproach the Puri- tans. There are those even who inherit the bless- ings which they procured for them who vilify the noble men to whom they owe the liberty which they have to slander them ! There are those who enjoy the privileges which they owe to our fathers who seem to take a horrid pleasure in saying I 88 OUR FOREFATHERS things derogatory of Puritanism. There are even sons of the Puritans, inheritors of their names and their institutions and their estates, who seem to forget their fathers and what they owe to them. I wish to recall to you, my hearers, and to impress especially upon my young friends, as we stand again at this anniversary of the landing of the Pil- grims, the nobility and virtue and heroic deeds of our honored forefathers. They loved England, but the) r loved freedom and God more. They prized the churches and universities and homes of their native land, but they prized a free conscience and free worship more. They might have enjoyed as much in England as any of those whom they left there, if they had been willing to conform to the unjust demands of the state and the church. All honor to them for their cheerful sacrifices and patient fortitude ! Bradford, the first governor of the Plymouth colony, was a man of literary taste, familiar with the French and Dutch, the Greek and Latin tongues, and taking special delight in the Hebrew language. Brewster, second to him, was in honor at home, and, in the train of the English ambas- sador in Holland, had himself held the keys of the Dutch towns that were in some respects bound to England. Winslow was a gentleman of fine qualities, who, while traveling in Holland, became acquainted with the eminent pastor, Robinson, and OUR FOREFATHERS 1 89 attached himself to his church and its future for- tunes. Robinson himself was a superior scholar and speaker, and in Leyden, was where the uni- versity founded by William the Silent, in memory of the heroic siege and honored with the names upon its rolls, of such scholars as Grotius, Scaliger, Arminius, and Descartes he received the attention of learned professors and preachers. Standish, the bold captain, was a military man of experience and promotion before he came to New England, and was the heir of large estates at home. Skelton and Higginson were educated at Cam- bridge University and were non-conformist clergy- men of the Church of England. White had been for many years rector of Trinity Church in Dor- chester, and was widely esteemed. Endicott was a gentleman of parts and property, and there were associated with him, intending to follow him to America, nobles and men of wealth and educa- tion. The members of the Massachusetts com- pany, pledged to embark for New England, were men of high position and character. Winthrop, whose immediate ancestors were lawyers, was a gentleman with an income equivalent to ten thou- sand dollars a year now, and moved in high circles at home. Humphrey, well-born, learned and godly, and Johnson, a man of large wealth, were both sons-in-law of the Earl of Lincoln. Sir Richard Saltonstall was one of them. Dudley was 190 OUR FOREFATHERS an old soldier of character who had served in for- eign parts. Eaton had been a minister of the crown to Denmark. Bradstreet, the son of a cler- gyman, had studied at Cambridge. Vassall was a wealthy West India proprietor. Hooker, Stone and Cotton were divines who would have adorned the ranks of the clergy in any land and age, "men," says the historian of New England, "of eminent capacity and sterling character, fit to be concerned in the founding of a state." And he adds, " In all its generations of worth and refine- ment, Boston has never seen an assembly more illustrious for generous qualities or manly culture, than when the magistrates of the young colony welcomed Cotton and his fellow voyagers at Win- throp's table." This illustrious preacher brought with him to our Boston the great fame which his talents and learning had given him as the minister of the ancient church of St. Botolph in Boston in old England. From that " superb temple," " a cathedral in size and beauty," he "came to preach the gospel within the mud walls and under the thatched roof of the meeting-house in a rude New England hamlet." Such was the quality of our forefathers. Their clergy were mainly graduates of the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Their magistrates were men of character, rank and erudition. Their com- mon men were freemen with big English hearts OUR FOREFATHERS 191 beating within their waistcoats. If anybody wants a better ancestry he shall go far to find it. With them came fair and noble ladies, and earnest- hearted and devout dames, from the English homes that they had adorned. One of our chroniclers says of Lady Arbella Johnson, that she came " from a paradise of plenty and pleasure, which she enjoyed in the family of a noble earldom, into a wilderness of wants." They were women who were worthy to be the mothers of nations. With no regrets did they look back to the comforts and enjoyments they had left, but with true hearts they cheered their husbands and sons in the manly work which they had in hand. We may judge of the character of our forefath- ers by their associates who remained in England to battle there for the same principles which led them over the seas. They belonged to the same class with those who not long after overturned the ancient monarch}' and founded the majestic com- monwealth. In sympathy with them was a large part of the ancient nobility of the kingdom. The landed gentry and the moneyed class were largely with them. When the contest in arms came on, such nobles as Manchester, Essex, Warwick, Brooke and Fairfax commanded the Puritan armies and fleets. Lord Say and Seal and Lord Brooke, after whom was named our Saybrook, both designed to come to New England. John 192 OUR FOREFATHERS Hampden, that illustrious commoner, the grandest Englishman of the age, also, at one time, thought of emigrating to these shores. The members of the Massachusetts company who remained in Eng- land became, some of them members of parlia- ment. Others who were interested in New Eng- land became officers in the arm)- of the people against the crown, judges, who pronounced deci- sions on the trial of the king, statesmen, who molded the affairs of the Revolution. The first scholars of England were of the Puritans. Selden, Lightfoot, Gale and Owen were among them. The finest preachers were in their ranks. Colonel Hutchinson was an accomplished and godly rep- resentative of them. Many of the most learned lawyers were with them. Milton, splendid in per- sonal appearance and in mental accomplishments, a poet equal to Homer, a scholar learned in ancient and modern lore, devoted his fine faculties to the Puritan cause. These men, and such as these, were among the most accomplished, as they were among the most opulent and noble of Englishmen. Royal- ists and churchmen have attempted to disparage them and have heaped ridicule upon their memory. But royalist and churchman found more than their match whether they met them in the contest of arms or of debate. There was little ridicule at Marston Moor, Dunbar and Worcester, when the Puritan legions bore down the king's forces in OUR FOREFATHERS I 93 terrible battle. It needed more than a king to withstand Cromwell, and there was not a royalist who was the peer of his Latin secretary. If there had not been so much to do at home, had not England required the presence of so many of her best men, had not the assertion and defence of freedom on English soil itself checked the emi- gration, thousands more of eminent and accom- plished men would have thronged to New Eng- land to lay here the foundations of a common- wealth grander than then existed. This was what our forefathers wanted. They wanted to set up on these shores a nation of free- men, to plant here a New England which, in all the best qualities of a state, should surpass the old. They, and those who sympathized with them at home held the sublime purpose to erect an empire which should fulfill their holiest and most patriotic longings, where their thought and worship should be free and God should be their only Lord. With tender affection they said on leaving England : " We esteem it our honor to call the Church of England, from whence we rise, our dear mother, and cannot part from our native country, where she specially resideth, without much sadness of heart and many tears in our eyes." So they came. I cannot to-day describe their growth, their stern battling with difficulty and disaster, their unconquerable purpose, and their .194 OUR FOREFATHERS triumphant progress ; how the wilderness fell be- fore them, and the savage fled, how agriculture covered the hills with its products, and commerce whitened the shores with its sails ; how villages grew to cities, and wealth accumulated ; how schools were planted, and steepled churches rose in every hamlet, and universities were opened for liberal culture ; how the town and the state took the forms of freedom ; how a Christian aristocracy was cherished, and how all were combined in a free and beautiful commonwealth. But if you would know what they accomplished, I can tell you in the language which one used to him, who, standing beneath the dome of St. Peter's, asked for the monument of its builder, " Look around you ! " New England is the memorial and monument of the forefathers. Were an impartial and intelligent cosmopolitan to point to that peo- ple among whom thrift and virtue and intelligence and education and religion were most largely diffused, would not his finger designate New England on the world's map? I am speaking to-day to descendants of these forefathers. In honoring them I am placing the crown, upon your heads. For " the glory of chil- dren are their fathers." You are reminded in viewing them of your duty. Cherish then and maintain the churches that they planted here. Flung upon the new world, they OUR FOREFATHERS I 95 cast away the human ecclesiastical inventions. Papacy and episcopacy they left behind them. God's Word they brought with them. And taking that alone as a guide, with their own good sense, they founded Congregational churches like those of which they read in the New Testament. Christ's churches were sufficient for them ; churches for the intelligent duties of men and women in the worship of God. They would have no miter nor canon, no priest nor pope. They would call no man master. They would have no authority higher than the Bible. As freemen in the Lord, each one equal to another before Him who looks down on all men as worms of the dust, they entered into mutual covenant in the Church of Christ, promising to watch over and care for each other. I commend to you, then, by the example and suf- ferings of your fathers, these our Congregational churches. They are yours through what your fathers have endured. Stand by them with some- thing of their fidelity and sacrifice. Give to them a generous enthusiasm and affection. Let not the church languish, whatever else may languish. No organization, no business is so important and worthy as the church. Congregational churches and Republican liberties stand and flourish together. Cherish also their love of freedom and be ready to make efforts like theirs to maintain it. We have fallen upon times that need the example of 196 OUR FOREFATHERS the forefathers. Liberty is in peril. Manhood is at a discount. There is danger lest we shall go down upon our knees before the Dragon of slavery. There is danger lest in seeking to hold the smaller good we shall lose the greater. Our fathers loved the union between Old and New England. But they would not become slaves to maintain it. Truth and liberty were better than it. The mutterings and threats of the tyrants had no terrors for them. They only stirred up the more their manhood and independence. We, in these times, should imitate them. Through the gloom and conflicts of their life in England, on the track of the storm- tossed Mayflower , amidst the hardships of the first New England winter, in the work of laying well the foundations of a new com- monwealth, we may find stimulants to a devo- tion to good principles, whatever may be the temptations to swerve from them, whoever may forfeit his birthright. And let us ever thank God that New England is ours. Its rigorous climate, its hardy soil, its- sea- dashed coasts, its tempests, its mountains, its pro- ductions are the nutriments of manhood. They tend to develop a bold and brawny race ; they cherish the grandest qualities of human nature. Work, hard work is our lot, and it is in itself a first-rate inheritance. Our mountain battlements are the fortresses of freedom. OUR FOREFATHERS I 97 Shame to us, if, spurred by the daring and deeds of our forefathers, we degenerate into cra- vens and slaves ! Rather let us be as the Puritans. " They knew they were pilgrims and looked not much on those things, but lift up their eyes to the heavens, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits." In a more southern latitude and within the civil- ization of the followers of William Penn, I give this tribute to our forefathers. There is much that is admirable in the soberness and simplicity and unconformity to the world of the Society of the Friends. And that is a fine civilization which is planted on the shores of the Delaware and which is illustrated in the social life and the learning and the business and the eleemosynary institutions of the city of Philadelphia, which in many respects is the first city of the land. But for that which is noblest in manhood and most graceful in woman- hood, for the wisdom and energy which go forth in most successful achievement, for the principles which underlie the best construction of society, I turn to our own New England Puritanism, it may be with a filial spirit, but yet with the consciouness that the honest cosmopolitan would agree with me. I have ever held, even at personal sacrifice and loss, that we who go out from the home-land should carry our precious principles with us and whether we migrate to the South or follow the 198 OUR FOREFATHERS broad courses of commerce and population to the West, which is rising with imperial grandeur to the control of the continent, we should be of New England still, our hearts beating ever in harmony with those who remain behind and that we all should hold, with sacred regard, to the institutions which were bequeathed to us by our noble fore- fathers. XI RUTH AS AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee : for whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried : the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me. — The Book of Ruth 1:16, 17. Grand Avenue. New Haven. RUTH AS AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES It is told of Dr. Franklin, that, being in the com- pany of some noble and worldly ladies, with whom, as the representative of this country in its heroic beginnings, he was quite a favorite, he proposed to read to them a pleasant idyl. They gladly acquiesced, expecting the grave but charming- philosopher to beguile them by what he might offer. He took the Bible, which was a strange and unread volume to them, and read the Book of Ruth. They were delighted with the idyllic story and wondered where the doctor had discovered such a gem. It would be difficult 10 find in all literature anything of the kind more beautiful than this artless history, or more fruitful of lessons of most suggestive wisdom. The sweet name of Ruth has stood next to that of the mother of our Lord in the affectionate regard of his people for many centuries ; indeed, she was herself the mother of our Lord, as being the ances- tress, in that far-off age, of David and of Christ. She gives us a rare example of conversion to the 202 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DTSCIPLES true God, in an age and among a people given over to idolatry ; she was one of the earliest, as she was one of the truest, of the great multitudes brought into the Church from the Gentile nations, and so was the prophetess of the world's harvest for Christ; she was a figure of heroic beauty in the annals of God's people ; she was a singular illustra- tion of the methods of divine Providence in the world and of the care of God for his own ; while her simple biography sets forth the homely life and the manners of the days and the people with which her story is interwoven. And there are still broader lessons in this prose poem. We are taught that humble individuals are often God's chosen agents for the accomplish- ment of divine purposes ; that the lowliest families rank with the most princely on the heraldry of heaven ; that this life to all of us may be a life of marvel or calamity ; that through whatever we may pass, an unfaltering trust in the overruling Providence will bring its ample reward ; that we need never to despair, however dark our experi- ences may be, into whatever personal or domestic afflictions we may be plunged ; that blessed recom- penses are bestowed on self-denial and cross-bear- ing, and the noble performance of duty ; that we can go nowhere with God and with the people of God without being on the joyful journey toward the place of which the Lord has said, "I will give AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES 203 it you;" and that so goodwill come to us, "for the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel." But without dwelling on these wide and volumi- nous and instructive lessons of the sacred narra- tive, I wish to-day to direct your thought to Ruth, as an example to the young disciple. First, we notice that there was a great renuncia- tion on her part, of much that she must have valued, for the sake of being with God's people. She had been brought up in Moab. Her fair girl- hood had all been spent among the idolaters. There was her home. There were her parents, and her brothers and sisters and many friends. She was used to the worship of the god Chemosh. The rich and productive plains of Moab, the popu- lous and powerful cities of that courageous nation, which had descended from Lot, were familiar to her. Her education and all her associations were among that people. For her then to turn away from all these, that she might ally herself to the friends and people of God, involved a renunciation of everything which had been dear to her. She must leave home, dear- est kindred, early associates, the altars of her child- hood, priests who had instructed her in the rites of their dark religion, the playgrounds and the playmates of her beautiful girlhood, the landscapes, like pictures, on which her sight had reveled, and the skies that had alwavs bent over her with their 204 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES starry glories. It was to say a long farewell to her treasures of love and memory and hope. But she renounced them all. With tears in her dark eyes and a shadow on her face of beauty, and a gloom in her heroic soul, she turned her back for- ever upon her happy past, upon her old pleasures and her old associates, upon her early religion and her early home. With a pathos unsurpassed in human speech she said, as she turned away from the old and clung to the new: "Whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." So did she become an example to the young disciple of every age and place. It costs some- thing to be a Christian. Our Lord has put it among the foremost of his instructions to those who would follow him that they are to have an experience of renunciation. Old things are to pass away. All things are to become new. Love for him must be so strong that other things, even dearest friends, must be hated in the comparison. We must love not the world, nor the things that are in the world. Our love to God must be so su- preme that the love of the world and the love of friends cannot stand against it. We must be not conformed to this world, but must be transformed, so that our affections shall be set not on things on the earth but on heavenly things. The apostle AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES 20$ said of himself and of those who were with him in the Christian service, " We have renounced the hidden things of shame ; " we have openly de- clared ourselves off from the old life ; we have disowned it. This great principle of renunciation is fundamental and all-important in the creed and in the practice of the young disciple. If he can- not declare himself off from his sinful practices and disown his sinful associates, and leave everything behind him that stands in the way of his joining the people of God, he will not be a full and round Christian ; he may fail, in the end, of being a Chris- tian at all. This, I say, is fundamental and all-important. It is especially so in our day, when a soft and easy religion is in vogue, when the line of distinction between the world and the Church is so shadowy, when young Christians are liable to take up with pretence for reality. Let them ask themselves, Am I willing to renounce and disown anything, everything, that comes in the way of my confes- sion of Christ? Let them hold before- themselves the example of the Moabite maiden, who, in that far-away age and among that nation of pagans, turned her back upon all old things, that she might live and die with the people of God. We want Ruths in our day, — young disciples of brave and self-denying devotion. We have them, but we want more of them. We want the Church filled 206 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DTSCIPLES with earnest maidens and their brothers, who can- not be kept back from heroic consecration, who will go with God's people, who will say, " Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God : where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried ; " who thus will be Christ's, living and dying, everywhere and wholly Christ's. Secondly, we notice that there was a cordial reception on her part of the obligations which belonged to the choice of the true religion. There was renunciation of some things, there was recep- tion of other things. She did not waver. She was in no uncertain and doubtful mood. There was no question in her mind where she belonged. Orpah, who set out with her " on the way to return unto the land of Judah," kissed her mother-in-law, and went back unto her people and unto her god. The old attraction was too strong. She merely set out, and soon went back. And so it is with many who appear to start for the heavenly land. They are serious ; they pray ; they consort with the people. of God for a few weeks or months, and then they return to their old hab'its and their old associates. They think they have tried religion, but they know nothing of it. There are many Orpahs. Naomi proposed to Ruth that she, too, should return, should follow her sister-in-law. But Ruth had chosen the good part, not hesitatingly, not AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES 207 doubtfully, not in a half-hearted way ; but fully and cordially and with decision. "And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee : for whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God : where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried." This was a full reception of the Hebrew faith and of the true God, and a cordial and glad union to the people of God. It was not merely a love for her gentle mother, Naomi. She loved Naomi, for there was much that was lovable in her. Ten years of life with her, in their home in Moab, had shown Ruth the sweetness of her dis- position not only, but the excellence of her reli- gion as well. Her daily reading of the Scriptures of her people, her daily prayers to the unseen but present God of her fathers, the sublime hope she cherished of the Consolation of Israel, the holy submission with which she had endured the loss of her husband and her sons, the calm faith with which she looked forward to a blessed reunion with them and with all the people of God in the glorious place of which the Lord said, "I will give it you," had won the heart of Ruth not only to herself but to her God, also. The piety of Naomi was the instrumentality which God used to save the fair maiden of Moab and to give her courage and determination and 208 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES grace in open and whole-souled confession of her faith and union to God's people. The reason why so many young disciples halt and hesitate and seem afraid to commit themselves, and stand shiv- ering on the brink of a confession, is that the old Christians are such weak and inefficient professors. The inconsistency and irregularity and worldliness of old professors intimidate and discourage young believers. Is that all there is of religion? they say. Is that the way to follow Christ? Isn't there any more to it than such weakness and irres- olution? Does Christianity permit its professors to neglect the church and the sacraments and the prayer-meeting, and to go to the theater and the sociable and the moral reform meeting, to aban- don the one Cause for the sake of some secondary object; to devote the best time and the freshest energies to the outside matter, and to give the dregs and remnants to Christ, or to give him the go-by altogether? And so the young disciple is perplexed and hindered and never matures. If you want Ruths, you must have Naomis. If you want young Christians who will stand forth in the Christian order and in the courage of earnest con- victions, you must have old Christians whose lives will square with the precepts and principles of Christ. You can't expect sturdy offspring from decayed parentage. You can't look for heroic faith in the disciples of a lax and unbelieving AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES 209 church. Your converts will be about such as you are. Yet Ruth should be their example. If possible, the converts should look away from living illustra- tions, if they are poor illustrations, of religion, to those who are worth}' of imitation, even if they lived long ago. The brightness of their example illumines our path of duty. The world will never grow so old that the sweetness and courage and constancy of the dauntless Ruth shall be unworthy of imitation. She received God and her whole duty to him into her soul of souls. Her receptive mind took in the people of God and life with them and death with them ; it took in sacrifice and self- denial and cross-bearing and separation from friends and the world. God and God's people and their holy life and death were all in all to her. Thirdly, we notice that she welcomed the rich recompenses which rewarded and crowned her fidelity. On the first page of the New Testament, in the ancestral line of the world's foremost Man, the world's divine-human Redeemer, is the name of Ruth. Honors were hers such as few have achieved or received. She came, with the gentle Naomi, to Bethlehem, and lent something of re- nown to that most renowned of the world's famous places. From her quiet home her name and her fame went out through all the land of Judah, and all that she had done in leaving her father and her 210 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES mother and the land of her nativity, and coming to a strange people and accepting the true God, under whose wings she had come to take refuge, was told among Hebrew maidens and men, in her praise. She became the wife of one of the fore- most Hebrews. She stood high among the matrons of Israel and had all that wealth and station could give her. She was the mother of a son who be- came the ancestor of Christ. That greatest honor of Hebrew motherhood, for which the mothers of Israel longed and prayed, that theirs might be the parentage of Him in whom their own people and all the nations of the earth were to be blessed, was the crowning glory of Ruth. Her faith, which God gave her for his service, her noble resolve, by which she cast away all her paganism and threw herself with all the wealth of her affection and the devotion of her life into the love of God and into union with his people, the sacrifice by which she rent herself from her dearest friends and bound herself to strangers who were of God's family, had the grandest recompense. The sweet name of Ruth is in honor in all the world, it is in glory in the heavenly world. She took God for her God with all her heart. She took God's people for her people with a daughter's loving trust. With them she would live, with them she would die. She honored God, and God, according to his word, honored her. AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES 211 There is a recompense of reward, and all may have it who choose God fully and serve him faith- fully. But we cannot halt nor waver nor refuse to fulfil any one of the commandments which he lays upon us. Ruth left all, but she gained all. To her was fulfilled the remarkable sayings of her Son and her Lord: "There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or mother, or father, or children, or lands, for my sake, and for the gospel's sake, but he shall receive a hundredfold now in this time, . . . with persecutions ; and in the world to come eternal life." " Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried." Only death should separate them. We love God's people in life ; we would be buried with them when we die ; we would also rise with them in the great resurrection day. You have read of the slaughter of the brave Italian troops in the gorge of Dogali, in which five hundred and eighty men were surprised by ten thousand Abyssinian troops who poured a with- ering fire upon them until every Italian soldier was killed or wounded, but not till, with heroic courage, they had destroyed five thousand of the treacherous enemy. The wounded wished to come home and to die and be buried in the soil of their loved Italy and under her brilliant skies and by the graves of kindred. 2 12 AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG DISCIPLES You have read how a few weeks ago Italy wel- comed them. It was in the beautiful harbor of Naples that the warship rode at anchor that had brought them home. The city was thronged with people. More than half a million of citizens from all parts of the kingdom crowded the streets and the houses to their tops. The schools were dis- missed, and all business was suspended. Banners, draped and mournful, hung on every hand. Leaves of oak and laurel covered the pavements, emblems of victorious courage. Only petals of roses and lilies and beautiful flowers of a sunny clime were permitted to be showered upon the heroes. At noon, when the cannon of the castle thundered forth the hour, a silence, like the silence of a petri- fied city, fell upon all the bands of music and all the great processions and all the inhabitants, while from the wharf to the hospital the ambu- lance-wagons passed through the smiling and weeping and sympathetic multitudes who so wel- comed home their wounded brothers. Citizens of noblest rank, officers of highest grade, with- hum- ble toilers and with mothers and little children, wept and rejoiced and loved. "Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God : where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried." XII THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised/ 1 — The Proverbs 3i : 3°- Grand Avenue, New Haven. THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN I had occasion a few Sabbaths ago to speak of some of the adverse tendencies working in our times on the minds of young women, and I specified a lack of thought, a lack of truthfulness, waste of time, undue desire for personal adornment, the passion for social excitements, the unrelieved slavery in necessary duty. Notwithstanding these tendencies which are ad- verse, and which are in many cases potent and effective, so that many young women are lured into lives which are a discredit to them, there are yet many who respond to other propitious and ele- vating influences and look forth upon this life as holding in it achievements and noblest conquests for themselves. The position of a young woman is one of special peculiarity. It is quite unlike that of a young man. To him the world is open. He is free to go. He is free to choose. The paths of life are manifold on which he may walk, and the positions manifold to which he may aspire. Her position is one of greater dependence and greater solitariness. 2l6 THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN If she abides in the home of her childhood, the child-feeling remains strong with her ; if she ven- tures out into employment for herself she is re- stricted to narrow bounds of service and of pleas- ure. However boldly she may propose to act, there will come the constant suggestion that she cannot be too independent in her feelings or her endeavors. She needs sympathy and fellowship and love. Yet her task is her own, and on most of the way that she chooses for herself she has to be alone ; she cannot admit too much confidence nor betray her individual preferences to unsympa- thetic natures. But these facts of comparative dependence and solitariness awaken concern and sympathy. We cannot look upon the young women of our society without care and hope for their future. I am to speak to-day of that which is the real ornament of the young woman. " Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain : but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." It does not consist then in outward loveliness or beauty. These things have their charm. These have been used for ages as the wand of woman's power. There is a spell in them over the mind and heart of the grosser sex. The most urgent prayer of the Greek mother was for the beauty of her children. One of the great lawyers of Athens, defending the most beautiful woman of that city, THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN 2 IJ who was accused of corrupting its youth, secured her acquittal by suddenly unveiling her before the dazzled judges. The chisels of the great sculptors wrought the Parian marble into forms of highest physical perfection. The admiration of beaut}' became. a passion of the people. Yet vice and beauty were closely connected ; the loveliest faces were enamelled masks over cor- rupt hearts; public courtesans were models of the matchless statues ; the sacred temples received their choicest adornment from the forms of the most degenerate women. So was it seen that favor is deceitful and beaut}* is vain. Great as is their charm, these are not the real ornament of woman. These may consist with depraved tastes, with dis- graceful habits, with indecent impurities. Beauty is not to be despised ; it is the wonder- ful gift of God. But if it makes its possessor vain, if it is merely of the surface, if it has no corres- pondence in the soul, it is a useless charm, allur- ing but deceiving. Real beauty is of the mind. To lead this forth, to give the mind reach and grasp, to discipline its faculties, to elevate its desires, to make it strong to do and to endure, to enlarge its knowledge that it ma}- use wisely its experience is the first necessity of the young woman of our day. Educattion is real ornament . Mind is more than body. When care is given ex- clusivelv to the latter, when this is adorned with 2 18 THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN all that taste can suggest and wealth can furnish, while the former is neglected, there is a dreadful waste of effort and expenditure. The first thing is the mind. The gem is more than the casket that holds it. The casket may be rough and ungainly, the diamond will glow and throb with light just as splendidly within it. It would be a waste to beautify and enrich the case which was to hold only a common pebble. In acquiring the best possible education our young women are simply doing justice to themselves. They are fortunate in living in this day, when the worth and privilege and desirableness of the best culture are freely accorded to them, when the col- leges are opening their doors to them, or when their own colleges are giving them equal advan- tages with those of their brothers. There is no dispute, or there ought to be no dispute, as to the equality of men and women in their mental constitution. God has made each sex for itself and for the other. It is not good that either should be alone. One is the complement of the other. They have the same mental facul- ties, intellect, susceptibilities, will, conscience, power. The same studies invite them. Histories have been made alike for them. The unex- plored territories of science, whether in the globe beneath us or in the astronomical worlds that silently roll above us, arc the inviting domain of THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN 2 19 both. Each can work on the mighty problems that are stated in consciousness or evolved in human experience. The throne of England is strong under its sensible queen. The telescope does not hold back its revelations when pointed by Miss Mitchell. Music, in its wealth of melody and harmony, reveals its fascination through the voices of many female singers. Letters bear the unchallenged stamp of the genius of woman, in poetry, in romance, in philosophy, in science. In the galleries of the Louvre, in the medical halls of Vienna, among the glaciers of the Alps, wo- men are taking hold of tasks which prove their ability to cope with men in discovery and achieve- ment. The young woman of this time should not be satisfied till she has accomplished a liberal educa- tion. If beyond that she can attain proficiency in some calling, in art, in music, in teaching, in writ- ing, in housewifery, in some trades that are open to her, in positions that she may seize with origi- nal audacity and hold with original ability, the greater will be her acquisition of real orna- ment. It is a disgrace to the higher civiliza- tion that women are not accorded equality in rights and in rewards with men for that which they are equally competent to do and equally efficient in doing. Sex should not be the gauge of wages ; good work and success, by whomsoever achieved, 220 THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN should be the gauge. This result is to be gained by the persistent effort of one sex and the growing sense of justice of the other sex. Independence will come from proficiency in some substantial calling, and in that is real adornment. There is a sphere of noble duty for which woman is eminently commissioned, the sphere of charity for the unfortunate. The Romish com- munion sets apart for this work a separated order, under lasting vows, of devoted Sisters of Charity, whose life is spent in works of sympathy and allevi- ation. Our Protestant churches have the sisterhood without, badge or vow, voluntarily taking upon themselves the same tasks and manifesting the same intrepidity and self-denial. But the service should be more general. Every young woman who would have the fairest adorning should be a member of this open order to which is given the honor of dis- pensing mercy, in seeking out the sorrowful and needy, in supplying bread to the hungry in body and in soul, in doing real sisterly work for the little children who are poor and distressed for the want of love. Pity, pity like that of Christ should be the beautiful ornament of our daughters, crowd- ing aside by its inspiring motives the listless, aim- less insipidity with which so many young women fill up their lives. Let theirs be the work of benevolence which shall visit every house with ben- efaction of some sort. Let theirs be the privilege THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN 22 1 of sustaining the cause of temperance, rejecting" and frowning upon bad and demoralizing drinking habits, holding aloof with unswerving severity every one who is not willing to abandon intoxicat- ing beverages, and proving that that society is of a finer sort and purer character which has its basis in total abstinence. Personal religion is the brightest ornament of a young woman. It is all wrong to see a young man coming on in life destitute of religious principle, but the sight of a young woman without religion is still more repugnant. Christianity has done everything to elevate and bless the womanhood. Women were slaves without it. They were beasts of burden without it. But under its sanctifying principles they have taken their place by the side of men, they have received kindness and deference and love, they have been treated with more than chivalric devotion. Gratitude should lead them to Christ, and Christ has had their love and faith. The records of all churches are bright with the supreme consecration of women. The dark annals of martyrdom attest their constancy to Christ. Christ has done everything for them, they have withheld nothing from him. Agitated by the problems of life, the young woman needs religion for her personal peace. She needs it for the friend- ship to which it introduces her. She needs it for the blessed work which it assigns to her. 222 THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN The youth, unused to the world's ways, uncer- tain of the future, looking toward eternity, seeks direction and protection, and this is found in Christ. The young woman who walks with him, whose inexperience and earnestness are controlled by him, cannot be lonely nor disheartened ; she has a present Friend who is strong and trustworthy, whose love brightens all her days. And her work is ever at hand. The anxiety and misery of an aimless life are taken away from her. In the home which she blesses with her sunny presence, in the offices of instruction and example with which she seeks to lead the younger sisters of her household or of other households, the groups which gather near to her in the Sunday-school, in the charity with which she ministers to the miser- able who welcome her as an angel from the skies, in the daily benediction which she pours upon her path for the comfort and strength and cheer of others, as the sun never fails to rise, she illustrates the beauty of a life ordered in harmony with the will of her Lord. She lives with a great and inspir- ing aim. She has nothing to wait for, as others seem to have, for her life is full, Christ is in it, and he ennobles and sanctifies it. She has peace and her sleep is that of the blessed. She has posses- sions, unfading, immortal, and friendship, and stainless ambition, and her work is by the side of the blessed Master. THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN 223 Such I take to be the real ornament of the young woman : education, proficiency in some calling, charity, religion. These are more than any outward adorning of plaiting the hair, or wear- ing of gold, or putting on of apparel. These are the enduring befitments of female character. Much is said in our day of the rights of women, and some young women have thrown themselves, with fine gifts, into the discussion and evolution of that subject. But there are unquestioned rights which will be always accorded without publicity or revo- lution or warfare and which are infinitely superior to any that belong to the platform or the polls. Florence Nightingale was applauded in secur- ing the rights she needed to become the alleviator of the suffering and the dying on many battle- fields, and to appropriate a quarter of a million of dollars to found a hospital for nurses who should be stimulated to philanthropic work by her name and example. The baroness Burdett-Coutts has needed no endorsement as to her rights in devoting her time and her fortune to the improvement of the homes and the habits of the poor. The young ladies who have gone from Mt. Holyoke Seminary to South- ern Africa to plant on the rescued soil of heathen- ism an African Holyoke, in which the daughters of that region may be trained for worthy lives, have felt no solicitude as to being accorded their rights. 2 24 THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN Nor have their sisters, from the days of Harriet Newell to the time when the last zenana welcomed the*"daughter of one of our families to be light and help in its darkness and misery. The great number of our own young women, who, under the stress of hard necessity or from the heroic sentiment of inde- pendence, have taken upon them the tasks of instruction and have carried into the schools a sublime consecration which works beyond the out- wards tasks in seeking to make noble the lives of their pupils here and to fit them for the immortal- ities hereafter, have no trouble in determining their personal rights, find in hand all that they have ability to achieve. The motive which has its impelling power in love to Christ, and from that, in love for the souls that are to be saved, heightens beyond all else the beauty and charm of the life of woman. There is much of excellence in the womanhood of the highest types set before us in the history and poetry of ancient Greece ; as in the wifely con- stancy of Penelope waiting for twenty long years for her absent husband to return from the Trojan war; the tenderness of Andromache for her heroic husband ; the sisterly devotion of Antigone, and in the virtues of many others whose lives may, how- ever, partake more of fable than of fact. But the redemption of Christ has been eminently the redemption of woman ; it has changed the nature THE ORNAMENT OF WOMAN 225 of her relations and the sphere of her services; it has sanctified her generous impulses and broad- ened her self-denying activities. Six Roman virgins were selected to keep a per- petual fire on the altar of the temple of Vesta. The safety of the city, the welfare of every home, depended on the continuance of that fire. Night and day they were the faithful watchers of the ceaseless flame. If it went out their punishment was severe, and it could be kindled again only from the sun. It is a type of the influence lodged in the young women of the land. I believe the safety of society, the well-being of our homes, the glory of our institutions, are all dependent upon their character and life. In their soft hands they hold the silver sickles with which our harvests of good or of evil are to be gathered. Vice cannot last in the presence of their virtue. In the old legends the fierce lion became docile, and the untamed rhinoceros was fascinated before a virgin. If this power fails us, if our young women do not fulfill their responsibility, they will meet the fate of the vestals ; and we shall have to look to heaven in prayer that the quenched fire may be kindled *5 XIII THE WORK OF WOMAN "The Lord giveth the word: The women that publish the tidings are a great host. 11 — Psalms 68 : 1 1 . Grand Avenue Church, New Haven. THE WORK OF WOMAN More and more woman is coming to the front in the progress of the Lord's kingdom on earth. From the first, from time to time, there have been individual instances of feminine heroism which have left a great renown in history, and have sig- nalized a few names as symbols, and prophetic of what womanhood may achieve. The poet who composed this verse was also a prophet. As a poet he felt the inspiration of his people's past history. One event stood grandly out in the imposing suc- cession of wonders which had characterized the career of Israel. It was the deliverance of the nation from the power of Egypt. In the historic pictures of that deliverance a female form emerged on the canvas. It is that of Miriam. First, she is standing on the banks of the Nile, keeping watch over a little ark of bulrushes which was floating among the flags, and in which lay a little boy. By the command of the king that boy was to die, but by the assurance of faith he was to live. Only this Hebrew girl kept ward and watch over him. No band of armed sentinels, not all the 230 THE WORK OF WOMAN power of Israel, could have been of any avail. For Egypt was mighty. It was a lone maiden watching through the long night with a devotion that would not let her sleep, and with a patience that was rewarded by the life of one who was to become a great ruler in Egypt and the foremost leader of God's people. Again, she is standing on the shores of the Red Sea. She has grown to womanhood. She has become a prophetess. And that little boy whom she saved is now leading the hundreds of thou- sands of his people forth from the Egyptian bond- age. He is celebrating the overthrow of the Egyptian hosts in the Red Sea, across which the Hebrews have come on a dry path. And there Miriam, in the inspiration of her vocation, with flashing eye and dancing step, and voice that mingled with the bass of the exulting sea, is lead- ing the multitude of Hebrew women in their tri- umph and response, " Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously ; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea." The poet re- called these facts of history. He recalled also the leadership of Deborah, who was a prophetess and a judge of Israel, the saviour of her country from the invasion of Sisera, "A mother in Israel," as she styles herself, whose victorious paean ends, j :- IB mmt iii lliil!