LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, ?.AREAM, - - - 9 2. THE PILGRIM STARTS FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION, - - 25 3. THE SLOI'GH OF DESPOND, ----- 40 4. MR. WORLDLY-WISEMAN, .._-_. r.3 5. THE WICKET-GATE, - . _ _ . _ (;.) 6. THE INTERPKKTER'S HOUSE, - - - _ . 80 7. THE CROSS, ------ 94 8. THE HILL DIFFICULTY, - - - - - - 104 9. THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL, - - - - - lis 10. APPOLVON, . _ - - - - ^ 130 11. CONFLICTS, - - - - - - - - 14,s 12. FAITHFUL, - - - - - - - - 1C3 13. TALKATIVE, ------ 179 14. VANITY FAIR, - - - - - - - 192 15. THE HILL LUCRE, ------ 206 16. DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR, - - - - 217 17. THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, - . - - - 234 18. THE ENCHANTED GROUND, - - - - - - 249 19. IGNORANCE, FEAR, AND TEMPORARY, - - - - 264 20. THE CELESTIAL CITY, - - - - - . - 280 'Doubt and discuss, examine and believe: But, if thy judgment falter, turn with trust Unto the staff our ancient guides relied on. And paths that in the wilderness bear The pilgrim's track. If thine own wisdom fail thee. Put confidence in wisdom tried by Time." Sir Aubrey de Vere. LECTURE I JOHN BUNYAN AND HIS IMMORTAL DREAM, " Would'st see A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ?" " He being dead yet spealieth." Heb. 11 : 4. "Jesus spake unto the multitudes in parables, and without a parable spake he not unto them." Matt. 1.3 : 34. " Ah Lord God ! they say of me, Doth he not speak parables?" Ezekiel 20 : 49. THE BOOK, upon which I shall discourse for several success- ive Sabbath evenings, is thought by some of the best literary- judges to be one of the most remarkable productions in ex- istence. The Pilgrim's Progress is read by English speaking people more than any other book, except the Bible. It has a circula- tion next to it in numbers, and is regarded by the devout with a sanctity only second to that which they feel towards the Word of God. It has been translated into every European language, and portions of it into Pagan tongues. It is a favorite with men and children.* You may find cheap copies of it in the saddle-bags of the prairie wanderer, the knapsack of the sol- * The object of this production, it is hardly necessary to say, is to give an allegorical view of the life of a Christian, his difliculties, temptations, encouragements and ultimate triumph ; and this is done with such skill and graphic elfeetthat the book, though on the most serious subjects, is read by children vnth nearly as much pleasure as fictions jirofessedty lorittenfor their amusement, — Chambkbs. 2 lo Lecture I. dier, the locker of the sailor, and the trunk of the servant girl. Did I say cheap? Well, they are so, if mothers' tears and pray- ers are cheap ;, but if they are sacred and precious, so are the books, for mothers place them there with prayers and tears. You may also find well-worn copies of it in the study of schol- ars and men of letters. Again, it may be found bound in vel- lum, embossed with gold, enriched with ornament, decorated by art, hard by the throne of kings. Its early editions are among the treasures of nations. For a copy of the first edition an as- sembly of rulers would halt in its ordinary business and bid a price for its possession. And yet what is it? Simply the relation of a man's expe- rience arising out of his endeavors to live a true Christian life. These experiences are covered with allegory. They are narra- ted under the form of a pilgrimage, and in such a way that whenever the book is read, and by whomsoever, the meaning is seen and felt, notwithstanding the parable. He writes as though he dreamed it, and this, says Lord Macaulay, "is the highest miracle of genius that the dreams of one man should be- come the experience of others." We are naturally curious about this man. What manner of man is he ? If scholars sit at his feet, we think he must be learned. If genius and philosophy crown him as a literary king, he must be great. If men and women feel this book to be the dream of their lives ; if the old find it to be a record of their sweet and bitter memories ; if the young find in it safe directions to the "Strait Gate" and the "Celestial City;" if it be one of the first books a young convert will read and the last he will lay aside — we think that a study of the life and character of its author is likely to profit us. John Bunyan was born at Elstow, Bedfordshire, England, in the year 1628; a child of the poor and the low. His father was a traveling tinker,* and John became one. Generally this class are quite ignorant and unprincipled. They live profess- * "For my descent then it was, as is well known by many, of a low and inconsiderable generation ; my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most desi»ised of all the families of the land."— Bunyan, The Dreamer. i i edly by their trade, but really much more by poaching and pil- fering.* It may be said of them that they have no abiding city, although I fear it cannot be uttered with equal truth that they "desire a better country — that is a heavenly." But Bunyan, senior, appears to have possessed a little more sense than usual with his fraternity, for we find Bunyan, junior, at school in early life, where he learned to spell, and probably to write. These accomplishments appear to have been neg- lected.'! I should say that the lad, from his earliest memory, had conviction of sin. At the age of ten he was subject to re- ligious terrors. This is due partly to the theology of his day, which required a sinner to be well beaten by the pedagogue law, as a prerequisite to his finding peace in Christ, and partly to his vivid imagination. He was always ruled by his impressions. His dreams and imaginations were facts to him. So sensitive was he, that on one occasion, thinking the devil struck at him with sharp claws, he adds, in apparent sincerity, that he felt them strike into his flesh. It appears to me that at this time, and for years subsequent thereto, he was a religious monomaniac. He grew up a very profane] | young man, so much so that a woman of loose character reproved him, saying that his lan- * Sir Thomas Overbury thus quaintly describes them : " The tinlcer is a movable, for lie hath no abiding in one place ; he seems to be devout, for his life is a continual pil- grimage, and sometimes, in humility goes barefoot, therein making necessity a virtue ; he is a gallant, for he carries all his wealth ujjou his back ; or a philosopher, for he bears all his substance with him. He is always furnished with a song, to which his hammer keeping time, proves that he was the first founder of the kettle-drum ; where the best ale is, there stands his music most upon crotchets. The companion of his travels is some foul, sun-burnt quean, that, since the terrible statute, has recanted gypsyisni, and is turned pedlaress ; so marches he all over England with his bag and baggage. His con- versation is irreprovable, for he is always mending. He observes truly the statutes, and therefore would rather steal than beg. He is so strong an enemy of idleness, that in mending one hole, he would rather make three than want work ; and when he lias done he throws the wallet of his faults behind him. His tongue is very voluble, which, with canting, proves him a linguist. He is entertained in every place, yet enters no farther than the door, to avoid suspicion. To conclude, if he escape Tybury or Banbury ,t he dies a beggar." — Whittiei-'s Prose Works, vol. i, j). 209. t Two noted places where criminals were hanged. if'Though to my shame I confess I did soon lose that I had learned, even almost utterly ; and that long before the Lord did work a gracious work of conversion upon my soul." Bunyan. li "It was my delight to be taken captive by the devil. I had few equals, both for curs- ing and swearing, lying and blasphemy."— Bunyan. 12 Lecture I. guage made her tremble. He tells us that he was guilty of breaking every command of the decalogue, but whether this is to be taken in a theological or literal sense, I hardly know — for Macaulay affirms that when he was charged with particular sins, he denied them. He enumerates other delinquencies, such as dancing, tip-cat, bell-ringing, and reading Sir Bevis of Southampton. His views were imaginary, as well as real. You see he takes his idea of sin from society, as well as from the Word of God. He regarded himself as the subject of special Providences. About this time we find him in the parliamentary army at the siege of Leicester, as Carlyle says, "living out the Pilgrim's Progress with a matchlock on his shoulder." Here a comrade volun- teered to take his place in the line, and was shortly after shot dead. This remarkable preservation made a deep impression on his mind as well as on others. On his return home he gave up bell-ringing, tip cat playing, dancing, swearing, and novel reading. Did I say gave them up? He tried honestly to do so, but learned swiftly and sorely that the hardest thing any poor sinner can do is to give up his sins and break from his habits. Until the sin of the heart is taken away by the Lamb of God, and the soul is filled with the Holy Ghost, there can be no giving up. The heart can not remain empty. God, nature and man abhor a vacuum. A man is not saved by merely giving up his sins, but by giving himself up to Christ to receive Christ. But behold the man who has given up bell-ringing, going up the belfry steps to watch his old companions pull the ropes. See the change on his face as he thinks a bell may fall and dash life from his body. He moves away to the church-yard only to imagine the steeple may fall on him. From thence to the vil- lage green to bury his fears, convictions and resolves in the excitement of tip-cat. * He is about to strike, when he is sud- denly arrested by a voice from heaven saying, "John Bunyan, wilt thou cleave to thy sins and go to hell, or wilt thou leave * A game similar to "hoclvcy." The Dreamer. 13 thy sins and go to heaven?" John left the village green no more to profane and desecrate the day of holy rest. He chose the latter alternative.* In his youth he married a girl as poor as himself; so destitute were they that to begin life they had not so much as "a dish or a spoon between them." She carried him something better than gold or accomplishments: piety, good sense and two good books. Half the bridegrooms to-day are not so fortunate as he. Her parents were righteous. Immediately before he became a christian he passed through a strange series of religious vagaries. He wanted proof that he was a saved soul. He believed the Jews would be saved, and then sought to prove himself a Jew. This failing, he argues: "Christians possess faith; if I have faith I am a christian." He therefore bade the road puddles to be dry, and the dry places of the road to become puddles. As they did not obey him, he concluded he had no faith. Then he believed he had commit- ted the unpardonable sin — and was encouraged in his belief by a professor of religion, who was old enough to have known better. This was his Slough of Despond. While in this con- dition, it happened that he overheard some godly women talk- ing of the peace which possessed their hearts through faith in Christ. He inquired into this secret of Divine peace. They directed him to "that good minister of Jesus Christ" Mr. Gif- ford. Baptist minister of Bedford, who finally succeeded in * Now you must know that before this I had taken much delight in ringing, hut my conscience beginning to he tender, I tliought such practice was hut vain, and therefore forced myself to leave it ; yet my mind hankered ; wlierefore I would go to the steeple- house and look on, though I durst not ring ; l)ut I thought this did not become religion neither ; yet I forced myself, I would look on still. But etul In this my scribble ; nor did I intend But to divert myself, in doin<;- this, h'rt)m worser thoughts, which make me C\,o amiss." It appears that he was advised by some of his friemls not to print it; others, however, advised him to do so. In order to decitle the wisilom ^^i their opinitms, he j)rinted it. SiMiie objected \o this form of presenting truth. These he snccessfulh' combats. Then, in the following earnest \,vords, states his purpose : "And nmv before 1 ilo put up m\' pen I'll show the profit o{ \w\ book, and then CiMiimit both me antl it into that Ilaml That pulls the strong down, and makes the weak ones stand. This boc^k it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that seeks the everlasting prize : It shews )-ou whence he comes, whither he goes ; What he leaves undone ; also what he does ; It also shews you how he runs and runs 'Till he unto the Gate of Glorj- comes. It shews, too, who set out for life amain. As ii the lasting crown the)' wi)uld obtain. Here also you may see the reason wh}' They lose their labour, and like fools do die." 22 Lecture I. I have lessons to teach from this Hfe for young men, young women, parents and the church. Young men, be Unie. John Bunyan had convictions, and was true to them ; he had genius and was true to it. You can never be Hke him, except in this one particular. This was the found- ation of his Christ-like character, his fortitude, his usefulness, his influence. He did not bemoan that he was not a great man ; nor did he think himself one. He did his duty. Like all great men, he was a great servant. Like his Master, he was not min- istered unto, but he ministered. Be yourselves sanctified ; yourselves sanctified to the duty that is next you. This only is acceptable service. Many young men are ruined because they do not use the talents they have. Thou shalt not covet, applies to brain and opportunity and circumstance, as well as to goods. Employ your leisure. The Pilgrim's Progress was written in leisure hours, at odd moments, which too many young men waste. His advantages were exceedingly few. His study was a dungeon. His books, the Bible and Fox's Book of Martyrs. You are all better off than he, but probably none of you are quite so wise as he. Lose not a moment. Life is precious. Begin now to seek wisdom ; exalt her and she shall promote thee. If you still halt for want of instruction as to what you shall do in spare moments, do as he did : Read the Bible ; pray for God's Holy Spirit ; and then, like him, you shall see visions and dream dreams. Maidens, be good. John Bunyan's wife's dowry was not large ; estimated in the market, it was nothing. And yet we know not how much it contributed to his immortal fame. She took him her loving heart, enriched with piety, two small books and a godly father's blessing. Believe me, there is nothing that will make home so home-like and heaven-like as these. You may take into your future home, gold, silver, jewels, music, flowers, culture, grace ; but unless you take a meek and quiet spirit, you The Dream. 23 do not take the pearl of great price ; you leave outside the bet- ter part. Parents : Counteract the effects of bad literature by giving your cJiildren tins book. It costs no more than rubbish. The children will be charmed with it ; it will not corrupt them ; you will not then have cause to fear that your sons will run away to be pirates or robbers, or remain at home to be idle spendthrifts, gamblers and drunkards ; rather may you expect that they will start from the City of Destruction, fight Appolyon, and live and die heroes of Vanity Fair; while your daughters, instead of being poisoned by false ideas of life, will cultivate the solid vir- tues and emulate the sisters of the Palace Beautiful. It would be an interesting study for some one to look up the great men who read Pilgrim's Progress in youth. It was the first book Franklin possessed, and we agree with Everett, that it could not have been a better. Hallam and Dean Stanley, his- torians and divines, acknowledge its influence over them in youth. Sir Titus Salt, who rose to eminence from obscurity, from a poor boy to the front rank of inventors, manufacturers and philanthropists, ever regarded it as one of his favorites. I have read of many others, but now cannot call them to mind. A word to the Church : Fetter no genius. The Established Church imprisoned him ; they put fetters on his body ; but when his genius gave birth to this child, his Baptist friends, like the Egyptian midwives, thought they had an ordinance to put it to death. What to them was an impious form of stating the truth, has been the divine message to many souls. Christ once needed the foal of an ass ; He once needed the dreams of a tinker ; He may need now some form of truth which is obnox- ious to the church. Let us not stereotype mind ; let it follow its bent ; provided it be sanctified, God will use it. Despair of no one: Bunyan was converted. The town sin- ner ; the blaspheming tinker. This man, very low in the social scale, was saved, and has saved many others. Let us not des- 24 Lecture I. pair. Christ shall yet bring many such sons to glory ; for the joy set before Him of saving them, He endured the cross, despised the shame, and is now at the right hand of God. Read it, and then — "The book will make a traveler of thee, If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; It will direct thee to the Holy Land, If thou wilt its direction understand. Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; The blind also delightful things to see." [The attempts which have been made to improve this book are not to be numbered. It has been done into verse ; it has been done into modern English. The "Pilgrimage of Tender Conscience," the "Pilgrimage of Good Intent," the '-Pilgrimage of Seek Truth," the "Pilgrimage of Theophilus." the "Infant Pilgrim," the "Hindoo Pilgrim," are among the many feeble copies of the great original. But the peculiar glory of Bunyan is that those who most hated his doctrines have tried to borrow the help of his genius. A Catholic version of his parable may be seen with tlie head of the Virgin in the title page. On the other hand, those Anlinomians for whom his Calvinism is not strong enough, may study the pilgrimage of Mephzibah, in which nothing will be found which can be construed into an admission of free agency and universal redemption. But the most extraordinary of all the acts of vandalism by which a fine work of art was ever defaced, was committed so late as the year 1853. It was deternnned to transform The Pilgrim's Progress into a Tractarian book. The task was not easy, for it was necessary to make the two sacraments the most prominent objects in the allegory, and of all Christian Theologians, avowed Quakers excepted, Bunyan is the one in whose system the sacraments held the least pro- minent place. However, the Wicket C4ate became a type of baptism, and the House Beautiful of the Eucharist. The effect of this change is such as assuredly the ingenious person who made it never contemplated. For, as not a single pilgrim passes through the wicket in infancy, and as Faithful hurries past the House Beautiful without stopping, the lesson which the fable, in its altered shape, teaches, is that none but adults ought to be baptized, and that the Eucharist may safely be neglected. Nobody would have discov- ered from the original Pilgrim's Progress that the author was not a Psedo-Baptist. To turn his book into a book against Poedo-Baptism was an achievement reserved for an An- glo-Catholic divine. Such blunders must necessarily be committed by every man who mutilates part of a great work, without taking a comprehensive view of the whole.] Macaulay. [Rev. W. Shrubsall, the first pastor of Bethel Chapel, Sherness, England, wrote a work in imitation of this. The only departure from the original is that Mr. S. makes his Pilgrim go to the Celestial City by water. It has considerable merit.] R. N. LECTURE II. THE PILGRIM STARTS FROM THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Bimyan, in his den, dreams that he sees a man named Graceless, of the City of Destruction, clothed with rags, standing with his lace from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden on his back. He reads, weeps, and cries out frequently and lamentably, saying, "What shall I do ?" for he has learned from The Book that the city in which he lives will be destroyed by fire from heaven. Thereupon he tells his fears to his wife, chil- dren and neighbors, who, instead of being alarmed, were surly to him, and derided him by turns. A man named Evangelist here meets him, who, learning his condition, exhorts him to flee from the wrath to come, and to the Wicket Gate, which he could not see. He was then directed to follow a light, which he could see, with the promise that it would lead to the gate. He started as di- rected. Wife, children, and neighboi's called him back, but he put his fingers in his ears and ran on, crying. Life I Life ! Eternal Life ! Two of his neighbors, named Obstinate and Pliable, followed him, determined to bring him back. They overtook him, and after much unavailable discussion, Obstinate returned, but Pliable went on, being moved thereto by fear, and charmed with the prospect of the Celestial City held out by Christian, late Graceless — the hero of the Dream.] BUNYAN started his Pilgrim. He made him go. He did not permit him to sit still and wait for an angel to come from the upper world and carry him along ; nor wait until he was better ; nor spend years in thinking about it. No ! he just started. I suppose you need not be told that if you would get to heaven you must begin to go thither. You must take the first step, and then the next, and then the next, and plod every inch of the way. The first step should be taken ; and now ; and the —4 26 Lecture II. next should follow in the same manner. Every step is a begin- ning and an end. Each one reaches to the threshold of the other. Begin this journey with the strength you have now. Do not think you will be lifted to the skies by some celestial agency. You will not. Begin in some way to be a Christian ; no matter how you may blunder. Better blunder in the beginning, than at last discover that your life has been a blunder all the way through. Do you say, "It needs to be thought about?" I agree with you. But please remember that all of you have had years, and some of you a long life-time, in which to think of it. Besides, this saying that you want to think about it. is frequently an ex- cuse to banish it from your minds. I am sure if you did think seriously you would desire to "flee from the wrath to come," and manifest it by asking the old question. "What must I do to be saved ?" I. Consider the Condition of the Pilgrim ivJicn lie started. He is described in this graphic passage: "I dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden on his back." Here is a picture of an unsaved man's condition. Let us talk about the several items. ''A man .'" a being made in God's image ; His child. A mind incarnate ; capable of holding intercourse with Deity ; of explor- ing the universe and learning its secrets ; of knowing good and evil ; of choosing blessing or curse ; free to obey the law. and free to break it. Such are you, such is your dignity, such are your privileges, and such your perils. He is a picture of ourselves. ^'Clothed with rags!" You possibly object to this descrip- tion. You may say in reply, "my morality is not in rags!" But can any of you say that your lives are no where torn by sins? I do not ask whether you are as good as your neigh- bors. Perhaps you are really better than most men. But this is the question : Have you been as good as you ought to have The Start. 27 been? Have you not merely broken no commandment, but have you filled full the whole law? Go home and look at one of your old coats. It was once new, clean, and good; good in material, good in fit; you were once pleased with it and proud of it. Why do you not wear it? You reply, "Why sir, it is out at the elbows, raveled at the cuffs, greasy on the collar, torn on the lapels." These are good reasons for not wearing it. None of us would wear such on the street, at church, or parties. They are only worn when we do dirty work, or when we care not for brother man to see us. But if you will look it over you will find some good in it yet. It is not all bad as cloth, but it is very bad as a coat. It was once all good, both as coat and cloth. But you don't wear it, you are properly ashamed to do so. Your character, or your virtue, or your righteousness is like that. It is in rags. But we don't mean to say that there is no good in you, or that there never has been, but that the good you now possess is disfigured by rags ; and if you would review your lives and could see your hearts as they are, you would be ashamed and afraid to go into the presence of God as you are now doing. Have you ever told a lie? That is one torn spot in your ex- perience! Haveyou told two? three? or more? Haveyou told one per week? per day? Haveyou cheated in business? Haveyou withheld the truth? Have you oppressed the poor? Haveyou broken the Sabbath ; broken the seventh commandment in any of its forms? Taken God's name in vain? Been angry with a brother without cause? Have you done any unrighteousness? Have you known to do good and neglected to do it ? Have you knowingly and voluntarily been on the side of might against right? Have you smothered conscience, grieved the Holy Ghost, or substituted religion for righteousness? If you have done any of these things, am I not right in saying that your righteousness is in rags? of some might I not sz-y filthy rags? Will you go to God's righteous judgment thus? ''Stood zvitJi Jiis face from ids 01^)1 house.'' Why? Because 28 Lecture II. he knew that the Celestial City was not in that direction ! Per- haps so. But as yet he was ignorant of its whereabouts. He only knew where it was not. This means, when applied to a sinner, that he turns his thoughts, desires and attention from sin and its pleasures. Friends, to get a good start, you must first turn your backs on sin and sinful engagements. It is impossible to get to heaven with a sinful life. No sin, nor anything that maketh a lie (the easiest form of sin), can enter there. Nor can you, if you keep the love of the world supreme in your heart. You must leave father, mother, brother, sister, houses and lands, to take up the cross of leaving them further and further behind daily, or you cannot attain. They must ever be less than supreme. The claims of righteousness are before blood. And what is the use of supremely loving this world? Its pleasures pass away. Its treasures perish. Its riches are fleet- ing. It will be burned up. Scripture affirms it ; science de- clares it. It must perish. Its elements shall melt with fervent heat. The heavens and earth that now are, are but reserved for the great conflagration. But before this occurs we may leave it, and to go saved or unsaved spirits into Eternity. Had you not better turn your attention to another life ! A better world! Many of you would start, if you could but turn your backs on this world. The way to do that, is, to turn your face in search of a better. "A book in his hand." One of the beauties of John Bunyan is that he makes his Pilgrim a Bible reader from first to last. His "Christian" is never without "The Book." With all his genius he is unable to think of a Christian who neglects to read his Bible. There is much wisdom in this. If you were visit- ing Europe, you would procure before-hand, and carry with you, railway guides, ocean guides, hotel guides, and guides to the va- rious countries and places of interest. When you visit a museum you ask for a guide book. This is the habit of all intelligent persons. It is just as intelligent to take "the guide" from earth The Start. 29 • to heaven. You need this Hght to thy path, this lamp for thy feet. It is folly to attempt the journey without it. "//r had the book in his hand.'' Yours, possibly, is a beauti- fully bound volume, lying on a shelf at home. That will do you no good there. Take it down, rub the dust off and use it, for the Book is not to be worshiped, but read. The entraticc of the Word giveth light. Guide books are poorly bound, but always consulted. Use the lamp to be guided by the light therein, for "This lamp, from oft" the everlasting throne, Mercy took down, and in the night of time Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow. And evermore beseeching men with tears And earnest sighs, to hear, believe and live."* * 'A great burden on his back. ' ' He is a burdened pilgrim. You know how awkward, depressing and wearying is a heavy bur- den. Those who bear them use every means they know of to relieve themselves. Those who carry heavy burdens in their daily employment, use all their ingenuity and skill to devise machinery to do their work. An honest man may have a heavy burden of debt, and this robs him of domestic comfort and hampers his business. He will do his utmost, denying himself many luxuries, that he may enjoy the greater luxury of being out of debt. Others have burdens of personal or family afflic- tions to bear, and they spend their fortunes in the employment of medical skill to be rid of them. Now we have large burdens of sin. What shall we do with them? We cannot carry them with us to heaven. We must get rid of them. But, perhaps, you are unconscious of this burden. A dead man is not conscious of the marble and the soil under which he lies. Nor are men who are dead in tres- passes and sin, conscious of sin. We will suppose that a man has stolen something. The theft is not immediately discovered, so he steals again and again. So successful is he that he grows careless. His conscience becomes * Pollock. 30 Lkctukk 11. hardtMioil, and ho sins easier than he did. His iloeiis ilo not trouble him; ind^iiUMit is not executed ai;ainst his wicked work speedily, and so his lu-art is fully set in him to ilo e\il. Now let us suppose he is cauL;ht in the act, or that his crimes are traced itome to him. and his emplo\ers ami the otVicers ot the law sa\' ti> him. as Nathan did to Oaxid. "riun) art the man." l"'ri'>n\ th.u nuMUtMit he is burdened. lie is oppressed b\- a knowledi^e ot his sins, a sense of j^uilt. He is burdened with tear, w ith .i smitini^ conscieiice. with shame in bein^; brought to jniblic tri.il. and with t'e.ut'ul apprehensions as to his future doom, and then w irh .i life long- sense of shame and disgrace. Have N'ou sinned? Little or much is not the question. Have )'ou sinned? If so. are \ou not .ipprehensive of God's judg- ments? If you have sown to tht^ tlesh. \v>u must tVom th.it source reap corruptiotv 1 beliexe 1 ha\e presented >'ou with .i f.iir pictiue of your moral condition in its iudicivd relations. Don't forget that by irrevocable law all sin is punishable! It brings punishment with it. Judgment ma\' tarr\-. but it will surely come. Bunyan's Pilgrim perceived that he w.is condemiu^l to die. and atter that to judgment, and t'ound that he was unwilling to do the first, and not able to do the second, and w hen l-lvangelist asked. "W h\' not willing to die, since life is attendee^ with so man\- evils?" he answered, "Because 1 fear this burden on my back (his sins) will sink me lower than the grave. And, sir, if 1 be not fit to go to prison. 1 am not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution. " This is a fair picture of an unregenera- ted man's condition. Dare you face the God of law? Dare >-ou any longer live inditTerently to Divine law ? Dare you takt,^ the consequences of broken law ? II. Let MS m>!i' talk of his motk'es. He was moved by fkak To his credit be it said, he w .is afraid longer to live a life that could only end in miser>-. in a city that was doomed to perish. It has of late been quite fashionable to deride this motive in religion. 1 ireely grant that it may have been appealed to. to ail unhealthv extent. In such cases correctioit is needed. The Start. • 31 Perhaps it is too true that there are some Christians whose only idea of heaven is security from hell. A Christian of several years' standing said to me once, "Why. Mr. N., if there is no hell. I have no desire to go to heaven !" I have met with sev- eral instances of this kind, and I deplore their existence. Yet it is philosophical to appeal to this motive. You may say that men ought to be urged by higher ones. Perhaps so ; but suppose this is the only one left? The principle of fear is in us all. You fear a fire, and there- fore insure your property ; you fear thieves, and therefore sleep with a revolver by your side and a mastiff in the yard ; you fear poverty, and therefore "lay up for a rainy day ;" you fear mala- ria, and therefore take antidotes. Is it therefore ignoble that a man should fear hell? I trow not. Answer ye.* But you say a man should love right for its own sake. A Christian may grow up to that, but as a rule he does not begin there. A boy goes to school because he fears his parents' dis- pleasure if he does not, but afterwards he pursues knowledge for the joy it affords him, and the good he can do with it. So with a Christian. He may grow, from fear of punishment, into positive and noble love of God and man. Knowing what humanity is, St. Theresa was foolish to go about with fire in one hand to burn up heaven, and water in the other to quench hell, so that room might be made for better motives. We are creatures of low motive. Another motive is self-love. This is not selfishness. In the latter there is always a disregard to the rights or the feelings or the good of others. But self-love is that principle which God has implanted in us all to seek our own good. This is com- patible with true benevolence, yea, with the highest form of religion. It is one of God's commands, "Thou shalt love thy- self." Its roots are deeper than selfishness. Selfishness is hellish, self-love is divine ; self-love is a noble duty. No man hateth his own flesh. If your house were on fire, you would * Voltaire is credited with tlie following story : "Charles XII. once read on a tomb- stone this epitaph, ' Here lies a man who never knew fear.' Then, said His Majesty, ' the fool never snuffed a candle with his fingers.' " 32 Lecture II. leave furniture and books, and show \our love of self by your attempts to escape. Hope is another. He left that city, hoping to find another ai\d a better. There is a better world, an eternal city, where death never enters, and disease never comes. There the light is never dim. the riches do not escape, the beauty does not fade, the joy is never disturbed with grief It is prepared for you : will you leave sin and a worldly life for it? This is the result of leaving sin for righteousness. These are the motives attrib- uted to this pilgrim. Have you such? I ask. have you such? because it is frequently supposed, and the supposition finds support from the terminology of our church life, that the ordinary- motives of men are not brought into operation in the matter of salvation. And fear, self-love and hope, are the most ordinary- motives of life. Take the case of an emigrant: While living and toiling for bare subsistence in old countries, he fears — especially as responsibilities grow upon him — that he will not be able to remain there comfortably and honestly. Political, social and educational rights are denied him. His self-love prompts him to seek a newer country. He asks himself, why should I. a man, with strength of sinew and brain, toil all my life for naught, to find at the end of it a poor-house and a pauper's grave ? why should I. a man. bring up my children in povert}- and ignor- ance, and then the\-. in their turn, be denied a righteous reward ? Why should 1 and mine be the slaves of custom and the stereo- t}-ped opinions of men who think that because they wear the titles of rank, which they give each other, and which are often the heirlooms of crime, they are the aristocrats of the universe? Self-love rises against it. Then he reads of a new country, where men are free and intelligent ; where labor is honored and honorable ; where brain and muscle bring their price; where a man can be a man, not because he is the farthest removed from him who "founded the family," but because God made him. Hope springs up within his heart. Such a man you will frequently see on the wharves The Start. 33 : C in Liverpool, literally scekinor his salvation. lie leaves father, mother, brother and sister — the Hvin" taith in the promise of God ; if you have desire to flee from the wrath to come. b\" walking in the way of righteousness ; if you really want to love God. and be taught of Christ, my im- pressivMi is that you may call yourselves one of *"the eiect." The Slough of DEsroNo. 49 Would to Goil that all who think that they arc the elect of God, or the elite of Christendom, were like you. Rut look from that doctrine to Christ. Do not tj^et away from John III. to Romans IX. so quickl\'. Men are nom the penalty attached, it would seem to be the least likely sin that a man would commit. If you have a desire to repent; if you would if you could live holily, you are y(^urselves living proof that the Holy Ghost has not left you; if, in looking to Christ, you can see in Him any love and beauty; if He is still desired by thee, you may put the despondency from your soul. You have«^/ sinned against the Holy Ghost. But, .says another, "7/" I begin I cannot keep on T How do you know? Did you ever try? Thousands as bad as you, as weak as you, have tried to keep on. and succeeded. Babes keep on by growing. Last summer I spoke to a poor paralyzed drunk- ard about commencing the life. "I would," said he, "but I can't continue." I assured him he could, if he would be pa- tient enough to take a step at a time, and every one in advance. The poor harlot would often turn from her life of shame, but knowing the power of carnal desire and the obstructions of modern society, fears that she cannot keep on. My brother and sister, you can if you will. Trust your case to Help; to —7 50 Lecture 111. the One who is mighty, and you will succeed, for He is mighty to save. "He is able to keep you from falling, and to make all grace to abound toward you ; that you, always having all suffi- ciency in all things, may abound in every good work." "Believe ye that He is able to do this?" I knew an invalid who, in his own opinion and that of his friends, could not walk a hundred steps. But, when leaning on the arm of a friend, out in the sunshine, strength and energy came with every succeeding step, and he would walk a mile, each step growing stronger and lighter. He seemed to walk the disease out of him. So do ye. Lean on the Mighty One. ' 'Trust in Him with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding," and you will find, in the sunlight of His love, strength and energy return. But always lean on Him. His name is Help. But another says: ''I am too bad to be saved.'' Now, that is not true. You who say that with any regret, are not. That tone of regret is music in heaven. Are you sorry that you are so bad? Bless God; that is godly sorrow, and it will yet work repentance to life. Too bad ? Will you say that, with the ex- ample of the unclean and bloody David, lecherous Magdalene. craven Peter, blaspheming Saul, before you ? Will you say that you are too bad, with the parable of the Prodigal in your mem- ory ? You may be a very great sinner, but Christ is a very great Savior. You are not too bad. When Mr. Whitfield was once preaching, he said, in the excitement of the moment, that "God received the devil's castaways." The next morning at breakfast. Lady Huntington expressed her doubts both as to the propriety of this expression, and its theology. Whitfield adhered to his statement. Just at that moment he was summoned to the door, where stood a daughter of shame. "Oh, sir, ' she said, "I heard you preach, yesterday, that God received the devil's castaways. I have come to know if it is true. I am one such ; I have lived a life of sin. Man has thrown me off; yes- terday I was sent into the fields to die. Will God take me?" Whitfield led her into peace through faith ; the Countess was convinced, and the poor woman lived and died a restored soul. The Slough op^ Desponu. 51 None of you have sinned like that ; if you had, T should still preach these delightful words: "Wherefore He is able to save to the uttermost all that come to God by Him," and ask you to sin<;' with me — " None but josus can do helpless sinners good." It may be almost necessary to say that the Slough is not essential to salvation. I say this, because I find some men and women who apparently feel at home in it. We find men in very morbid conditions; there is neither sense nor grace in them. If we heard of a city visited by cholera or some fatal epidemic, or a locality where miasmatic poison was prevalent, we would keep away, and remain at home, where it was healthful. A man would be scarcely sane to delight in such places. They are not necessary ; indeed, they are fatal to health. There are some Christians who emit nothing but miasmatic disease among those who are seeking Christ. They demand experience. I was once told that I could not be saved until I could say that I was the chief of sinners. Well, I never could tell that lie. A system of theology popular not many years ago, made it an item of salvation that the sinner should be wil- ling to be damned, if God decreed it. Religious, and espe- cially devotional books, are full of this deadly poison. It is not the will of God that any man should be in this condition. We shall meet with Pilgrims who escaped it. You may also. Men are not saved by looking within themselves, but unto Jesus, the author and finisher of faith. You will not be saved by thinking how bad you are, but how gracious He is. Neighbor Pliable was very angry with Christian when he fell into the bog. After a struggle or two he got out on the side next his own house, and Christian saw him no more. When he reached home his neighbors visited him ; some applauded him. some mocked, some called him fool and coward, and thus he sat "sneaking" among them. Then, with the others, he began to deride Christian behind his back. 52 Lecture III. He got out the wrong side, nearest his own home. That is the wrong way out, for it is the way back. How many of you, my friends, are but Hke him ? Oh ! how have you gone back ! Had you but been faithful to your convictions ; had you but been led by the Spirit of God, you might have been far on the road by this time. But you are in the world, of the world, living for the world, disquieted within, reckless, unhappy, dis- satisfied ; with cravings for higher things, which you know not how to satisfy ; hardly respecting yourselves for your want of faith or courage in not living according to the light that God has given you. Possibly derided by some who knew your his- tory, secretly despised by them, too, just as you despise others in your own condition ; and then, it may be, in your turn deriding good Christians behind their backs. ' 'And thus much concern- ing Pliable," and you. But there is something worse than "The Slough of Despond, " into which men fall. I mean conceit. Let the drowning man say he needs no rope ; the invalid that he needs no physician ; the lonely, to whom life is like a dark cave that gives not back an echo even, say that they need no friend. When they do that, you may say you have no need of Christ. A man may be saved if he falls into Despond, but if he falls into Conceit, there is more hope of a fool than of him. LECTURE IV, MB. WORLD L V- WISE MA N. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Christiau, aloue, walks laboriously aloiio- in conse- quence of the burden on his back, towards the Wicket Gate, as he was direc- ted by Evangelist. He now meets with Mr. Worldly- Wiseman, who has heard of his pilgrimage. This gentleman interests himself in him, inquires concerning his family, sympathizes with him, gains his ear, and then pro- ceeds to administer "wholesome advice." He describes the way in which Christian is traveling, as being exceptionally troublesome ; casts aspersions on Evangelist, and the Book which he has in his hand, and succeeds finally, by many brilliant promises, in turning The Pilgrim from the way to the town of Morality, where he may be eased from his burden, by Mr. Legality or his son Civility. Christian essays to take this advice, but to reach the town of Morality he has to pass a veiy high hill. When he came to do so he was much affrighted, for part of the hill that stood nearest the way-side did hang so much over, that Christian thought it would fall on his head. Then tliere came flashes of fire out of it, and Christian was afraid he would be burned. His burden here seemed heavier than before. He now feels sorry that he took the advice of Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. Evangelist coming to the rescue, Christian is heartily ashamed of himself. He receives the reprimands of the good man with becoming meekness. Evangelist then proceeded to give him good counsel, and to show Christian his mistake, which might have been fatal. The Pilgrim being penitent, "Evangelist kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed."] BISHOP WILBERFORCE was once asked whether he knew the way to heaven. "Oh yes," rephed the witty prelate. "I have known it from a child ; take the first turn to the right, and then keep straight on." A better answer has never been given. Our Pilgrim has taken that "turn to the right," and has been going "straight on," notwithstanding various efforts on the 54 Lecture IV. part of neighbors and friends to shake his purpose. He has heroically forded the Slough of Despond ; his courage has won our sympathies. But what his friends, by tears and entreaties, failed to do, will be attempted by one who appears to be wise, and looks like a gentleman. He will not attempt to turn him back, but will turn him aside. He knows that Christian cannot now go back to the City of Destruction, but he is as hostile to Christ as were the ignorant neighbors ; therefore he employs his craft to deceive. Being a Worldly-Wiseman, he knows that the current of a river and a beam of light cannot be sent back, but they can both be turned from their direct course. So he employs his energies to turn Christian out of the way. Behold our Pilgrim, with burden, rags, book, and the mud of the Slough of Despond on him, going laboriously onward, with sighs, groans and tears. He is alone. Pliable has returned. Help has performed his mission, and is possibly helping another poor soul out of the Slough. He is just in the condition for sympa- thy and temptation. Just at this moment Mr. Worldly-Wise- man accidentally, apparently, but really by design, meets him. He knows him by his guise, for Christian's setting out has been much talked of. He sympathizes with him, gains his attention, and then, by advice and brilliant promises, succeeds in turning him from the way that leads to the Wicket Gate, whither he has been directed by Evangelist ; to the town of Morality, that he may be rid of his burden at the hands of Mr. Legality, or his son Civility. The whole of his arguments amount to these two proposi- tions: First — That the way to the Celestial City is essentially one of sorrow. Second — That Mr. Legality can ease pilgrims of their bur- dens. As all sinners who seek Christ will meet with much of this worldly- wisdom, and as it will have the effect, if listened to. of turning them from Christ. I shall reduce the propositions to plain statements, available for our purpose. Mk. Wokluly-Wiseman. 55 M. First — The world thinks and says that the Christian Hfe is an unhappy one. Second — That men can be saved by doing the works of the law. I meet these statements by a most emphatic denial. The Christian life is not unhappy. Sinners cannot be justified or saved by doing the works of the law ; by Civility, Legality, or Morality. I. Christian life is not an unhappy one. "Get rid of thy burden, for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then: nor can'st thou enjoy the benefits of the bless- ings which God has bestowed upon thee till then ;" quoth World- ly-Wiseman. Quite true, sir! so far we agree. "There is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world, than is that unto which he hath directed thee, and that thou shalt find if thou wilt be ruled by his (Evangelist's) counsel. Hear me, I am older than thou. Thou art like to meet with, in the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, death, and what not." Partially true in the letter; absolutely false in the spirit, Mr. Worldly- Wiseman. Here we disagree, and must part company. I affirm the opposite. The Christian's life is essentially happy. We appeal to the Scriptures. When Christ began to unfold the conditions and laws of the kingdom of God, He sat down and taught men, saying, "Blessed. " The word has never been changed. It is the chief word in the vocabulary of Christian experience. Its force is intense. It is all-comprehensive. Until he used it, men had described the condition of their gods, demigods and heroes in elysium thereby. They had never applied it to any men. They thought, as many do now, that a man's happiness here consists in his possessions, either mental or material ; the experience of the world, notwithstanding. But Christ took a word sacred to 56 Lecture IV. their highest conceptions of bliss, and used it as being the only appropriate one, to convey an idea of the Blessedness of being humbie-minded, pure-hearted, meek, merciful, righteous, peaceful. Happiness arises from certain spiritual conditions. It is a fountain of living water, which flows from the midst of a man. It is absolutely inseparable from them as is heat from fire, light from the sun, beauty and perfume from the rose. But in my appeal to the Scripture, I must not forget that other words are used in connection with the Christian life ; '•trial," "tribulation," "anguish," "sorrow," "persecution," "peril," "death," and many others. No true history of Chris- tian living could be recorded without the use of one, or per- haps all of them. "In the world ye shall have tribulation," says Christ. Right- eous men, says Paul, ' 'had trial of cruel mockings and scourg- ings, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned, sawn asunder, were tempted, slain with the sword, were destitute, afflicted, tormented ; they wandered in deserts, and in moun- tains, and caves of the earth. " ' 'These are they who came out of great tribulation," said the elder to John, of the white-robed, innumerable multitude who stood around the throne of God. The history of the Church confirms all this. And yet Christ says now, as he has from the beginning, "Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; and ye shall find rest \xx\\.o your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.'' These two classes of statement appear contradictory. They are, however, not even inconsist- ent with each other. It will be conceded that happiness is not dependent on circum- stances, but on interior conditions. The rich are not all happ\'. The votarv of pleasure is frequently most miserable. The poor are sometimes happy. The godly poor always are so. Kings wear crowns of gold before the public ; crowns of thorn before God. The rich appear to have all that heart can wish, but really have not satisfied their heart's desire. They may gratify Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. 57 their lusts, but not satisfy their souls. They intend to build bigger barns and acquire larger stores, before they say: Soul! take thine ease ; eat, drink, and be merry. "AH the world's a stage, and Al! the men and women merely players." To US. who look on. the curtain seems plain ; to those who see it raised, there is either tragedy or comedy. No. no, my friends, happiness is so precious that God does not trust it to unstable materials ; He gives it to the soul alone. Christ, in his promise, says, "And ye shall find rest to your souls." He giveth peace, but not as the world giveth. He giveth rest and peace to the soul, from whence alone happiness can flow. Christ's yoke fits the nature of man exactly. Man was made for it, and it was made for man. The burden of Christian duties is light. "His commandments are not griev- ous." Let me suppose that one of you possess a very fine horse. You send him to the harness-maker's for a new set of harness, to be made expressly for him. It is made and on him. You are very particular to see that the collar fits ; that it does not chafe or irritate his neck or shoulders. Being satisfied with that, you attach him to a beautifully painted, well-constructed, light carnage. As you proudly survey the "turn out." you anticipate much pleasure, for the "yoke is easy and the burden is light." Now, let me further suppose that you attempt a journey through the streets of a certain city, which, for obvious reasons, shall be nameless. I think you will at once see, that although the "yoke is easy and the burden light." you will have to go through a great trial of mud. Your fine carriage is filthy, horse spent, and yourself disappointed. But it was not caused by either horse, yoke, or burden. Given proper conditions, the ride would have been enjoyable. Such exercise we all know to be exceedingly pleasurable. Now, a Christian life is like that. In itself it is all and more than Christ has promised it to be. The half has not been told, even by Him. Words are too few and too poor to describe it. It —8 58 Lecture IV. has to be linked to the hoHest, best and richest things before a conception of it can be had. It has a peace which passeth all understanding. It gives a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. But a Christian lives in a world opposed in its maxims, principles, and practice, to the life that Jesus lived and which He invites us to receive. Therefore, the life of a Christian in this world is attended by trial, for two cannot walk together unless they are agreed. This happiness is not arbitrarily bestowed. It is embedded in the nature of things. A Christian is a righteous man. No unrighteous man is a Christian. I don't mean that the right- eousness of another is by some pious fiction attributed to him. I do not use the word in any theological sense, but ask you to receive it as common sense suggests. He does right, and is therefore and thereby righteous. The word righteous is used to describe God's heroes, the Bible throughout. Only one kind of righteousness is acknowledged by God. But we have several kinds, or else one kind with different names, in our Church phraseology. That aside ; the righteousness of which I speak is of Christ and of God. It is wrought into the soul and life by the Holy Ghost. It comes unto and upon all that believe. The Christian is clothed with righteousness, not artificially, but really and naturally. We are acquainted with two different kinds of clothing — artificial and natural. That which we wear is artificial. We can put it on and off at pleasure. We can discard it; we can assume the dress of another. Cowards may dress like heroes; traitors like kings ; rogues like honest men ; sinners like Christians. But we know another kind that is not so easily removed. Out in the fields you see the sheep, the ox, the horse, the birds. They are all clothed with hair, wool, or feathers. Our artificial clothing is their legacy to us. Now look at the process by which they are clothed. They eat grass and corn and herbs ; it comes unto them in this way. They transform it into hair and wool and feathers; thus it comes upon them. So we receive Christ by faith. He is taken into the soul. He is the bread of our life; on Him and by Him we live. Mr. Worldly-Wiseman. 59 We reproduce Him in righteousness of life, and in this way and not in any artificial manner, comes righteousness "unto and upon all who believe. " Not in fiction, but in fact, a Christian is a righteous man. Abel was Hghteoiis Abel ; Lot is called righteous Lot ; Abra- ham was righteous Abraham ; Noah preached righteousness. God would have spared the cities of the plain if ten righteous men had been found there. I dare say there were plenty ■ of religious people in those cities, as there are and ever have been in all cities given up to iniquity. Job was a righteous, or rather a right-up man. Christ came to establish everlasting righteousness. He is the Sun of righteousness. His sceptre is a sceptre of righteous- ness. One of His first blessings was pronounced upon those who hungered and thirsted for righteousness. One of His first complaints was the little righteousness (not the religion) of the Scribes and Pharisees. He will bring in a new heaven and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. Look into the matter yourselves, my hearers, and you will see it is righteousness, and not religion, that is acceptable to God. The fervent, effectual prayer of a righteous man avail- eth much with God. Christianity, then, is no substitute for righteousness; its foundation is righteousness; it does not over- turn the throne of the Eternal, nor give society over to law- lessness. When a sinner goes to God for pardon. He sends him back to his fellow-man. ' 'Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar and rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way ; Jij-st be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." God cannot establish iniquity by law or by gospel. All the joys of righteousness — of being right and doing right — are his. The fruit of righteousness is peace and assurance forever. His peace flows as a river, because his righteousness abounds as the waves of the sea. A Christian is more than righteous ; he is a good man. There is a distinction to be made between them. "Scarcely 6o Lecture IV. for a righteous man will one die ; yet, peradventure, for a good man some would dare to die." A man may be righteous, just in all his dealings, correct in behavior, and xet not be generous or kind. On the other hand, a man ma}- be v^ery generous, be- nevolent, and beneficent, and yet not be righteous. A follower of Christ unites the two. His deeds are good works. He therefore possesses the jo\s that flow from goodness, and learns practically that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Take the element of mercifulness — "The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the placj ber.eath : it is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." This is one of the elements of a Christian's life. We often express our joy at being forgiven ; we have received mercy; but this joy is not worthy of being compared with the blessedness of forgiving. I am never forgiven without a sense of shame, in consequence of my sin. I am ashamed to have to be forgiven. There is a privilege greater than that ; I mean the Divine ap- proval. Now, when I am merciful, when I forgive an enemy, I am enriched and ennobled in my spirit ; I rise above the ven- geance of my animal nature to actions and feelings akin to the Eternal God, whose son I am ; Who is ever blessed, because all-merciful, and ever ready to forgive. Being thus reconciled to God in my life, I can rejoice with jo\- unspeakable and full of glory. I have reasoned from Scripture and natural law that it is a mistake on the part of Worldly- Wiseman to suppose that a Christian's life is essentially sorrowful. But. perhaps, we have conveyed such an impression. If so, we are to blame. Puritanism is not Christianitx'. Do we not rather seek to puritanize the Church, than to make it righteous through Christ. The Puritans were Christians, and so were many others who were diametrically opposed to them in faith and manner of life. Christian life is not made up of stern visage, rigorous self-denial. Mr. Wokldy-Wiseman. 6i __• silent Sabbath-s. and arbitrary habits. A puritan is like a pho- tograph ; it is a picture of life in one mood. But we are not always wearing one facial expression ; not always smirk- ing, smiling, sour, or stiff and awkward. We are not always in a ridiculous posture, flattering ourselves that we are the cen- tral figure of a work of art No. Life would be intolerable if it were so. There are many expressions of the human face divine, and many facets of the Holy Life. Ritualism is not Christianity. By ritualists I mean ail those who pay excessive attention to worship. It is our duty to wor- ship God with becoming reverence and appropriate forms. But there is no piety in multiplying them. There is often a wicked waste of money and idle superstition in doing so. I fail to see any righteousness or mercy in making long pilgrimages, multiplying fasts, becoming learned in genuflections, making prayers, whether we desire the things for which we pray, or not. Worship is but one form and feature of the life of Christ's followers. It should always be spiritual ; never formal and mechanical. Perhaps those who think that the life we desire you to lead is joyless, have attended a prayer-meeting when a good brother addressed the Divine Being in elongated vowels and nasal consonants ; when another spoke in sepulchral tones of the blessed promises, and anticipated death, as if he were afraid of it; when another defended his faith against hosts of deadly heresies, of which nobody knew and nobody cared ; and when the gracious Father was praised in long-metre dirges. Perhaps he was taken to such a meeting when a boy, and is too much of a true Chris- tian to return. Or he may have been to some public service where the choir did all the singing; where men loved God so much that they praised Him by proxy; where, instead of the congregation shouting in thunder tones to the God of glory, and coming into His presence with gladness and a voice of triumph, a solo was substituted, which was sung correctly, as becometh a profes- sional. And the pastor, if he were an old fogy, read a long, dry essay on predestination ; and if he were a young fogy, one 62 Lecture IV. of the same kind, on "e\-olution, '" or tlie "survival of the fittest. " And tne eongregation fell asleep, and were refreshed thereby ; awoke to receive a benediction, for which they had paid ; dis- persed, much too respectable and too cultured to speak as Christ would have done to the strangers or the young. • There are congregations like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner; the ship in a deaci smooth, cairn sea, and every man on board a corpse. From such burlesques on Christianity he infers that Christians are unhappy mortals ; and well he may. They may have a peace which the world can neither give nor take away ; but he finds it hard to believe it, and therefore is not attracted thereto. But there is another cause for his inference. Christianity is theoretically opposed to sin, and he finds pleasure in sin. He naturally prefers a life which he knows to be pleasurable, to one of which he has just suspicion. Brethren, we ought not to allow such impressions. If we would but spend half as much time in being Christians as we do to be orthodox on the one hand, or liberal on the other, we should rejoice in the Lord always ; we should serve Him \\ith gladness. If Christian life be whole- hearted, unrestrained, generous love to God and man ; if this love be as steady as the sunshine, and yet as impulsive as the song of birds, there can be no essential sorrow in it. Oh ! for a religion o\' love, instead of metaph}'sics ; of the heart, head, and hand, insteaci of the head without either; a religion in which bod}', soul, and spirit will be freely given to God in sacrifice and service! Oh ! for a Church built on Christ — with Christ, and not a creed for its chief corner-stone ! Oh I for a Church of men, and not of doctrinaires, wherein the preacher, learneci in the Word of God anci taught b>- the Holy Ghost, shall take of the things of God and shew them unto the disciples, who. in their turn, shall "Sing their cheerful songs With angels round the throne.'' My friends, in the name of the religion of Christ, I den\- the first assumption of Worldly Wiseman. Mk. Worluly-Wiseman. Let us now address ourselves to the consideration of the se- cond proposition : II. No sinner can he saved by the deeds of the law. Worldly-Wiseman taught that he could. He therefore sent our Pilgrim to Mr. Legality, or to his son Civility, to get rid of his burden, and advised him to dwell henceforth in the town of Morality. His teaching amounts to this, and is equal to that which we can hear on the streets any day. "Be moral ; do no- thing excessively wicked, and all will be well." Man's need of salvation is not recognized, and a Savior is ignored. This is wordly wisdom. It may be that it is foolishness with God. Understand me, God cannot make it foolish if it is not so. But if it ignores any fact, or is contrary to any universal principle, it is presumptions folly. We are all under law. We cannot escape from it. No one can or does, on earth, in heaven or hell ; neither Christian, pagan. Jew, gentile, child, devil, angel. God governs, and works by law. Law is the rule by which God's forces accomplishes their pur- poses. Beneficence is in all His works. Love is the soul of the universe. The laws are the lines on which His love advances ; the features through which His soul shines. Blessing and curse are the natural and not arbitrary result of keeping or transgres- sing law. Christian and pagan unite in saying "We are His offspring." We are the children of Him whose law is holy, just and good. It is ordained to life. In keeping His commands there is great reward. They are not grievous. In infinite wisdom and love hath He ordained the rules of life. They are adapted to our nature, and secure our welfare. Disobedience to them perverts the order of nature. Let the sun rise in the west and set in the east ; let day be changed to night ; let heat freeze and cold burn, and you thereby will not procure anything more unnatural than sin. It is unnatural to sin. We are under moral law; that law is beneficent in its designs ; it is written in our souls ; it is 64 l.KCTURK IV. ing^ined in our nature. K\ on the heathen, who posi^ess not our Scriptures. ;ire a law unto themselves. Sin. which is the transgression of the laAv. is therefore unnatural. All God's laws presuppose perfection. Not one is adapted to bless a sinful being'. Sin destroys the sinner ; its tendency is to shorten and embitter life; it degrades a man: the greater the sinner the less the man. From these premises we conclude and state that sin is unnatural. Hefore we can realize what sin is. we must have clear ideas of the law. The law is expressed in many ways. It is detailed into negative and positive commands, as given by Moses. Its principle is revealed by Christ : * *Thou shalt /e>f v the Lord th\' God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with ail thy strength. This the first commandment. And the second is like, »/hs, or any first- class newspaper, superimposed upon each other, and pressed into a compact mass, would reach to the height of 47,348 miles. A billion is a fearful thing, and as for quadrillions and trillions, they are simply words wholh- incapable of impressing them- selves on the human intellect. But one thing is thinkable con- cerning them ; somewhere they end. But Eternity means end- lessness; it has no end. Mere astounding figures give no idea of it. They are but the starting points of eternity. When the Egyptians expressed this idea in their hieroglyphical language, they did it by a circle, denoting, without beginning and without end forever. Measure it ! Suppose we gather every beam of light that ever came from the sun, every ear of corn, every blade of grass, every feather of flying fowl, every drop of the ocean, every grain of sand, that ever existed ; call each a year, and spend this time in eternity — and then eternity is to come ! The thought is overwhelming — it is awful ! How will you spend it ? With whom, and where? Let controversialists treat the subject with becoming reverence. It is a matter to feel, rather than to dispute about. The Interpreter then took him to a man who had been dream- ing of the final judgment. The dream is told in Bunyan's own dramatic manner. But 1 have trespassed too much on }our The Interpreter's House. 93 time. As this subject will occur again in our progress, we will discuss it then. These are the truths wrought into the soul by the Holy Ghost; they become the intuitive sense of the child of God. They are spiritual, and are felt, rather than understood. We need the direct personal teaching of the Holy Ghost. We need spiritual discernment, for this we must have spiritual enlightenment. In conclusion, let me say, that I am reminded I have two congregations — one that has heard what I have said, the other hdisfelt my utterances; the one is spiritual, the other is carnal. To feel the truth is evidence of spiritual-mindedness. Some excuse themselves, saying they have not the Holy Ghost. Is not a man responsible for his poverty, if he might be rich; for his ignorance, if he might be learned? Is he less responsible, who has not the Spirit of God ? Certainly not. God has promised to all who ask, "If ye being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Heavenly Father give THE SPIRIT to those who ask Him. LECTURE VII THE CROSS. [Synopsis of Chaptkr. —The Pilgrim entered the Interpreter's House by knocking, and lett it singing. With a soug, he marches an liighwaj% fenced in on either side by a wall called Salvation. His burden is still a diffirulty. But he soon comes to a little ascent, where stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a Sepulchre. Here tlie burden falls off by itself into the Sep- ulchre, and he saw it no more. Christian stands in amazement and weeps and sing> for joy. Three shining ones come to him and salute him with " Peace be unto thee." The lirst paid unto him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee." The second gave him a change of raiment. The third set a mark on his foreiiead, and gave him a roll with a seal on it. From hence he proceeds witli nuieh jo}% and sees, to his sorrow, a little out of the way three men, named Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, asleep, with fetters on their heels. He awoke them, shewed them their danger, but was unsuccessful in getting them concerned. Then two others, Formalist and Hypocrisy, came tumb- liuo; over the wall. These he sought to insti'uct and coriect, and got derided for his pains.] WE bring our Pilgrim to the Cross to-night. He came to it soon after he left the "Interpreter's House." The in- struction and enlightenment he received there were esential to the experiences which we now study. It is indispensable that a man be divinely illuminated in order to see that his salvation from sin is in Christ. The mission of the Spirit of God is to take of the things of God and show them to us. We cannot of ourselves unravel the meaning of the life of Christ and the tragedy of Calvary. He, however, is possessed of the secret, and He conveys it to all those who fear God. I shall not be able to communicate it. Without controversy, great is its mys- tery. To reveal it is the work of the Holy Spirit. The Cross. 95 . — — •— . — . — _ It may be necessary to review. Christian fled from the wrath to come — from the condemnation of the law. He entered at the Wicket Gate, and passed through the Interpreter's House. Now, a man must leave sin, acknowledge Christ, and become His disciple, before he can enjoy the experiences of spirit- ual life. Christ taught men righteousness before He died for them. They followed Him before they received the Holy Ghost. So with our Pilgrim ; he left sin and followed after righteousness before he found peace and joy in Christ Jesus. But there are crosses which are not " "The Cross. " They need to be pointed out. so that you may not make a fatal mistake. One of the most common and fatal of all mistakes is to come to the Cross as theologians, and not as sinners. Our Pilgrim came as a burdened sinner. Do thou likewise. I. There is the literal fact: Christ was put to death on a cross. That very cross is said to be preserved. Part of it is in Rome, part of it in Paris, parts of it in Palestine, part of it in Russia. You will find large portions of it in churches and ecclesiastical museums. There is almost enough of it to build a navy. Many men. however, think it possesses some talisma- nic power, and they therefore take long journeys and offer costly gifts to gaze upon any one piece of it. But it is nothing; if you possessed the whole of it, it would not avail for your sal- vation. The wood of the cross is no better than that of any other tree that grew in the forest. Trees cannot save souls. You might visit the Holy Land, as did the Empress Helena, search for, find, possess and preserve the fragments of the cross on which Jesus died ; forge the nails into ornaments, as did Constantine, and yet not be saved. II. You may also meet with the historical circumstance. It is written that Christ died on the cross. Now you may have read that in the Holy Book, in history, poetry, fiction and phi- losophy, many times. You may know that crucifixion \\'as the Roman method of capital punishment executed only upon the lowest and vilest, and therefore extremely ignominious. You may know all the particular circumstances of His death ; the 96 Lecture YU. blackness of the heavens, the terror of the earth, the derision and contempt of men. the loneliness of the victim, and know that in this there was a gpreat moral purpose, and yet all this knowledge is merely historical. There is no more salvation in it than in knowing- that Napoleon crossed the Alps, that Co- Unnbus discovered America, the pil^^rim fathers came in the Mayflower and landed on Plymouth Rock. History does not save souls. Til. You will frequently meet with the symbol of the Cross. It crowns the pinniicle of churches ; it decorates altars; it is laid in the binding of Bibles and devotional books ; it is sometimes worn — too often by those who are ashamed of Him who died on it — as an ornament; it is printed on banners, and annies have fought and do fight under it; it is sprinkled with jewels. and blazes on the hand of the living ; it is set in flowers and laid on the casket of the dead : and yet it will not. as a symbol, avail for siilvation. Souls are not saved by shadows, but by forces. lY. You will as frequently meet with a theological cross. The cross is a divine fact. The cross of the the^^logian is a theory concerning the mysteries therein. Theologians gather round the cross and they fight, and, as 1 believe, crucify the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame. To-day the air is rent witK the cry, "Crucify Him; He is not fit to live." Those who hold what is known as the moral theory, cry against what is known as the commercial theory. "Away with Him; He is not fit to live." And those who hold that which is burles- qued as the commercial theory, cry out. in a multitude of voices, ''Away with Him; He is not fit to live." And the several hundred theorirers of the Atonement make a rabble, crying out against each other's theory, " He is not fit to live, " And mind you, this is not a controversy between the bad and the good, but between good men on all sides. Rid men men have not enough interest in the cross to quarrel about it. Now. 1 ad- vise you not to trouble yourself about any theories, IJke Hun- yan's IHlgrim, ha\'^ no theories; about it. Pray for the Holy I'lii': (koss. 97 (iliost, and whati'X'iT lie- Itachcs yoii, Uani. I -i-t Ciod make u hatc'\ cT impicssion ol (lu- ("rdss 1 Ic will upon yi)ur heart so prepared. Ihen- an- iliHen-nl savini; views of the Cross. Paul nave one to tlu- Konians, anotlui- to the C'oiinthians, and a dif iercnt one from either to the llebrews. Trust the Holy (ihost. I le cannot err. I le will lead you into all truth. The Gospel is tlu" power oi (iod, anil not a theory of any man's or class of men. .Souls are not saved by theology, but by the love of (iod. 1 w ill tell }-ou what I sec in the Cross, prefacing it with the remark that 1 did not always see it as I do now. As our stand- ing; points shift, so our sii^ht alters. In the man who died on the Cross lor me I see, 1. (lod's intinse hatred of sin. The feelint; we entertain concerning ainthin^" is manifested in what we do to be rid of it, oi- w hat we will pa\' to keep it. You told the worUl a few years ai;o what }'(ni thouL;ht of slavery, and how much you hatetl dis- union, by the thousands of sons you i^ave to die for your coun- tr}'. \'ou tell the wiM'ld to-day how much you hate popular ii;norance by the money you spentl to dissipate anci prevent it. A mother declares how much she hates ciisease by her steady, daily and hourly fiLjht to save her darlinj^^ from its pains and ravaiT,es. Now, in the Cross we see how much (iod hates sin by the sacrifice lie has matle to put it away. (iod spared not 1 lis Son, but freely gave Ilim for us all. He condemned sin in the llesh. 2. We see, also. His love for the sinner. In the mother who hates and fights disease, you also see love for the child. In the battle you fought against slavery and disunion, we can see love of humanity, love of country. In }n)ur educati(Mial institutions we read not only hatred of ignorance, but love of light, progress antl man. In the Cross God's love to man is manifest. Yes, (iod dt)es love man. How much? Look at the Cross. "He so loved the world." 3. Hut there is more. We saw Christian under condemna- tion at Mount Sinai. There he learned that all sin must be — '3 gS Lecture VII. punished. We are under law, and if we have sinned, we are under its condemnation. Now, if this righteous condemnation be removed from those who beheve in Christ, and if such are pardoned, then we know that Christ must have satisfied God in our behalf. God would not be righteous to forgive if He had not. Here we get into the region of dogma. It is eminently reasonable to believe that He did, though how, I do not know. There is no human analogy by which I can reach it. But what is most remarkable, the testimony of the Scriptures reaches our case readily. It assures us that He did. I believe the testi- mony concerning Him ; believe that God is true, and go on my way freed from the curse of the law by Him who was made a curse for us. 4. In the Cross we see the spirit of a Christian life. In it we see obedience to the will of God ; self-sacrificing love to God and man. The most remarkable thing about the whole of it is His loving prayer. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." In that we see the spirit of a Christian Hfe. How noble, grand, superhuman. Godlike, divine! He suffered and died like a man, at the hands of cruel and wicked men; but He breathed forgivness, like God. Even then He delighted to forgive. Now this forgiveness is the essential condition of Christian discipleship. He has taught us to pray for forgive- ness "as we forgive those who trespass against us." That is the only part of His teaching that is repeated. After teaching us to pray. He added, "For if ye forgive not men their tres- passes, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive you your tres- passes. " He again repeated it in a parable, teaching that if men who are forgiven of God do not forgive ther fellow-serv- ants, they shall be cast into prison until they have paid the utmost farthing. Thus Pilgrim received this spirit and noble life from the Cross. It was this that brought the delightful ex- perience of which we now speak, into his soul. His burden rolled off of itself. This was no effort on the part of Christian to get it off as heretofore. It came off as the bark of trees when the new life of spring is felt. He was filled with the The Cross. qq f_^ ^ Spirit of the atonement. Love to God. which was created by a savini^ view of the Cross, "banished all his guilty fears." When a man's heart is full of the Spirit of Christ, the burden of sin cannot remain. The burden rolled into a Sepulchre, "and he saw it no more." So completely does God remove the burden of sin ; so abund- antly does he pardon. Words cannot express the achievement. Then was Christian glad. He wept and sang for joy. His song was offered to Christ. Its burden was, "He hath given me rest by His sorrow, and life by his death." But this is not the whole of his experience. Three shining ones ministered to him; they unitedly greeted him with the salutation, "Peace be to thee!" Then the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven ;" the second stripped him of his rags and clothed him with a change of raiment ; the third also set a mark upon his forehead and gave him a roll with a seal on it. "Peace be to thee," all declaring: One forgives him all his sin; One a change of raiment bearing Clothes without and clothes within. Then the third, his finger tracing. Prints a mark upon his brow; And a roll his hand embracing With a signet sealed below. This is merely a picture of the experiences of a Christian, more or less clear, in every case. Bunyan being a Trinitarian, makes God and man, heaven and earth, meet at the Cross — man the receiver and God the minister, and to each of the per- sons of the God-head he assigns special work. The Father speaks forgiveness We have sinned against Hirn, and Him only ; therefore with Him alone is pardon. The Son stript him of his rags, and gave him a change of raiment. This is the special work of Christ. He does not cover our rags with His cloak, but He takes away our rags and gives us His garment. loo Lecture VII. The Spirit did quite a number of things. 1. He set a mark in his forehead, and gave him God's spirit to bear witness with his, and assurance by their united evi- dence that he was a child of God. 2. He'jVave him a roll : That is, he wrote the law of God upon his heart. He was delegated to do the will of God as it was written of him in the volume of the Book. This ends Christian's experiences at the Cross. Delightful, were they not? Have you had any such? Do you not lose some of the sweetest joys of life by neglecting them ? He had reason to give three leaps for joy and sing: "Thus far did I come laden with my sin, Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in. Till I came hither: "what a place is this! Must here be the beginning of my bliss.'' Must here the burden fall from oft" my back.'' Must here the strings that bound it to me crack .^ Blest Cross! blest Sepulchre! blest rather be The Man that there was put to shame for me!" With this new experience ; with the spirit of the Cross ; the life that sacrifices itself for the good of others. Christian pro- ceeded. "He went on thus until he came at a bottom, when he saw, a little out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fet- ters upon their heels. The name of one was Simple, an- other Sloth, and the third Presumption." Now, being filled as he was with the spirit of Christ ; being relieved of his bur- den ; being no longer anxious for himself, he began to do good as he had opportunity. He was restored to the joy of salvation, and taught sinners the way, that they might rejoice and be glad in God. He roused them from their sleep, apprised them of their danger, but did not succeed in bringing them to their senses. Their answers are characteristic : Simple says, "I see no danger." Men who are asleep do not, as a rule. But when there is danger, it is high time for men to wake out of sleep. The law of God, both revealed and The Cross. ioi natural, declares that punishment will follow sin as surely as shadow does substance. The law is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; thou shalt love thyself; thou shalt love thy neigh- bor. " You may say that the man who is asleep is doing no harm. But he is neglecting to do good. God demands that the law shall be fulfilled. An empty life is a wasted one. He who sows no seed in spring, will have naught in harvest. And just as we would rouse the slothful to work, so would we rouse you to concern for your salvation. "How can you escape if you neglect so great salvation ?" There is danger, great and fearful danger. "You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the dead sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom.'-' Sloth appears to believe in the danger, but believes also that there is plenty of time to escape it, so he said, "Yet a little more sleep. " He is exactly like those who postpone the day of repentance to the day of leisure, old age, or death. Let me ask you, can the work of a life be done in the hour of death? Besides, the law is that a man shall receive according to the deeds done in the body. How can you expect to offer God a holy life, a useful life, when you only commence it in old age or dying weakness ? But Presumption saw the danger, and braved it. His maxim was, "Every vat must stand on its own bottom." That is true. Sin cannot be transferred to another. I am responsible for mine, and you for yours. We shall answer for ourselves in the judgment. I heard a presumptions man say once that he did not care for the future, he should get just what he deserved, and no more. That is just what I fear. I am afraid of what I de- serve. Oh ! how can I, who have sinned in thought, word, and deed, face my loving Father with a presumptions smile, and ask for my deserts. How dare I, who have sinned in ignorance and knowledge, go into His pure courts in this spirit? No, breth- ren, I need a Savior, and so do you. They would none of his counsel. He was; therefore, much grieved. He noticed that they were ironed. Like every sin- I02 Lecture VII. ner, they were held in cords of their own sins. The other day I saw a convict on the street, his Hmbs chained to an iron ball, which held him to itself. The law had chained him to it. He would have been freed if he could ; he chafed under the shame, but he was powerless. His deeds had brought him there. If you visit a convict establishment you may see men forging chains which they will have to wear. So these men forged their chains ; so do the drunkard and the adulterer. Every form of sin is bondage. Sinners are in chains, waiting in darkness until the day of the Lord. While he was musing and troubled concerning these, "he espied two men come tumbling over the wall, on the left-hand of the narrow way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and the name of the other Hy- pocrisy. " They were born in the land of Vainglory, and came into the way in this fashion, because they thought the Wicket Gate too far round for them. They are representatives of those who profess religion for purposes of their own, and therefore have no need of repentance toward God or faith in Christ. Formalist is one of those who deceive themselves in matters of religion. Human nature is very weak, and is grossly de- ceived by appearances. Many men like to keep up appearances. They buy brass and paste so that their jewels shall at least ap- pear to be diamonds set in gold ; they buy costly dress and live in large houses, that they may appear to be wealthy. This weakness men carry into religion ; and so men go punctually, frequently, and soberly to the most fashionable church, and de- ceive themselves with the thought that they are Christians. A house does not make a home ; all is not gold that glitters ; a church does not make a Christian ; display does not make wealth ; sacrifices, incense, pilgrimages, worship, do not make life. God dwelleth with the poor and contrite ; He looks on that man who is of clean hands and pure heart ; who has not taken bribes or sworn deceitfully, and such as he shall stand in in Zion before Him. The Cross. 103 Hypocrisy ; an actor, represents those who profess rehgion that they may deceive others. But playing a part does not make a genuine character. An actor may look, dress and act like a king, but when the drama is over he may be but a sower of sedition. A man may act the part of a Christian, but when life is over, and God strips him, the real man will appear. How foolish their delusion! "If we are in the way, we are in." It does not matter how we got in, so that we are here. The members of our family enter our houses by the doors; thieves get in some other way. Look at the difference between these men and our Pilgrim, who came through the Wicket Gate and Interpreter's House to the Cross ; and now choose ye which of them shall be your example. LECTURE VIII THE HILL DIFFICULTY. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Christian, with his companions, Hypocrisy and For- mality, walk along till they come to a very high hill named Difficulty. The straight path lay right up it. Two other ways, which appeared to go round it, named Danger and Destruction, met at its base These were taken by his companions — Hypocrisy taking one, and Formalist the other. Instead of going round, they led respectively to a great wood, and to a wide field, full of dark mountains, where they both perished. Christian refreshed himself at the spring at the bottom of the hill, and started. He went running, going, clambering upon his hands and knees, because of the steepness of the place. Midway up the hill he rested in a pleasant harbour, where he slept and lost his roll. Was aroused, and started on his journey with re- newed vigor, hoping to reach the Palace Beautiful before nightfall. He met Distrust and Timorous, who sought to turn him back by ill reports of the journey. Christian argued that to go back was to die ; to go on, only the fear of death at the worst, and therefore i-esolved to proceed. Here he found he had lost his roll and had to go back for it. Having found it he retraced his steps, and arrived with many discomforts and self-reproaches at the Beautiful Palace.J WE HAVE before us a hill, steep, rugged and high, to which Christian and his companions came. There is a spring at its base, an arbour on its side, a palace at its summit. There are ways that promise to go round it, but The Way is straight up it. It is a difficult way, and fitly represents the passage from the Cross to the Church. Since the world has possessed this allegory it has been claimed by Christians as the picture of their experiences. These are not all joyful; but smiles mingle with tears; nights follow the days; The Hill Difficulty. 105 storm the calm ; clouds the sunshine ; the waves of blessedness that flow from heaven and break on the soul, ebb back again, and a Christian is not merely left in a smooth sea, but frequent- ly at low water. Our Pilgrim was joyful at the Cross. This soon gave place to the arduous task of climbing the difficult hill. I say the passage from the Cross to the Church is difficult ; difficult as it would be for you to climb such a hill as Bunyan had in his mind, to reach the castle at its top. It is as danger- ous as the transition from boyhood to manhood, when the lad has all the passions of a man, and only the experience and strength of a child to control them. The Christian has all the powers of sinful manhood, with only the strength of Christian childhood to withstand them. I refer, of course, to such sin- ners as Bunyan. who came into the way of righteousness at a comparatively late period in life. Happy, indeed, are they who seek God early and find Him, so that the Divine life grows with the lower life, and from the beginning keeps it under sub- jection. He has been taught in the Interpreter's House that he must go right on, though the way be not always level ; now he will learn it from his own experience. Like the rest of us, he has to learn from his mistakes. It will be well to premise that a Christian has trials peculiar to himself. Events, thoughts, affections and conduct, that have no effect on others, fill him with grief and shame. On the same principle that an artist is offended by daubs of paint which others call pictures ; and a musician by noises that others call music; and a poet by jingles labelled poetry. Their sense of harmony and proportion, so abundantly educated, sees defects; feels inconsistencies so that they suffer the most exquisite misery, and misery which will neither evoke compassion nor apprecia- tion. " The highest sufter most, The strongest wander farthest and more hopelessly are lost. The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain. And the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain." — 14 io6 Lecture Vlll. A Christian's moral sense is so quickened, the law of God. in its refined spirituality, so deftly written in the heart by the Spirit of God, that he is sensitive to anything that offends the love of God. And what so sensitive as love? Wo can grieve those who love us more easily than we can any others, and we are grieved b\- them as we are not by otliers. A Chris- tian feels to be wrong what may appear to others right. He will mourn over actions and dispositions which others treat lightly and carelessly. He is as sensiti\e to every degree of sin as a tender plant is to frost. This may explain some of the sorrows of pilgrims. The Pilgrim has just icu the Cross. He is possessed of tlie Spirit of Christ Jesus, and begins to learn the infinite tenderness of righteous sorrow. He now debates this question, "Shall I join the church?" With our TOgrim there was no hesitation. He drank of the spring at the bottoni. and then begun to go up the hill, saying : •• Tl\e hill, though high. I covet to ascend. The ditficully will not nie offend: For I i->erceive the »-ay to life lies here: Come, pluck u^v, heart, let's neither taint nor fear: Better, though ditlicult, the right way to go. Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.'' But this is the question with many. Take into account this refined spiritual experience ; take also into account that the Chris- tian is a man in the flesh and intellect, and a babe in the spirit; and witli tliese thoughts we may proceed to inquire wh\- such a difficulty should exist in the mind of any to whom such a duty must be plain. A Christian will feel a conflict between flesli and spirit, and this is a difficulty. Perhaps (^this is often the case) the new life has led him to promise himself that all conflicts of this kind are over. After the first ardor has passed away he finds his old dispositions asserting themselves, and his old habits la\nng claim to his life. In sin he indulged tlie flesh, and made his intellect an important advocate thereof He has read of the body being The Hill Difficulty. . 107 dead to sin ; read it in devotional books and hymns, and heard from the experience of older Christians of being so free from sin that it has no dominion over their bodies, and that this is accom- plished by faith. He knows again that he who sows to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption. Well, he knows that he believes in Christ, but he does not find his body dead. He is in it. His carnal nature asks supremacy; it craves indulgence. The intellect, so long the ally of the (lesh, reads God's word, history and biography with fleshly bias, and examples are refer- red to, maxims are quoted, precedents are offered. He can not make headway against such winds. He is affrighted at the inclinations of his heart, and the appetite of his flesh. He has learned that a Christian had none such. He is to be pardoned if he asks himself the question, "Am I a Christian? Ought I to join the Church ?" Let me suppose that this is really your difficulty. You may have been a drunkard, or a glutton, or even worse, and I have described your condition. What am I to say to you? I recog- nize that these temptations and appetites are to you a sorrow. You feel that, if carried out, they would take away the spirit you have received from God ; they would destroy the peace which passeth all understanding, the unspeakable joy of your heart. You do not feel inclined to make the barter. The temptation is more than you can stand. Jiut see you not, my brother, that your grief and resistance are proof that the life of the Spirit is within you? 1 recognize, again, that you have been badly educated. No where is it promised that you will become altogether spiritual all at once. You are indeed to reckon your body dead to sin, but not to your natural appetites. God placed them there. They may be used for his glory. Let them move in the channels he has made. You are to crucify your lusts; but crucifixion is a long, slow mode of dying. Drive the nails into your lusts, but not into a solitary proper affection of the soul. You are not called to asceticism, that is cowardice ; but to be a man. Be, then, a hero. io8 Lecture VIII, That you may join the Church is established by precedent. Paul is our precedent here. He found the flesh lusting against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. He fought beasts, as has every Christian. He kept his body under subjection. Paul felt as you do. Do you then as he did. But he may find a difficulty between his spirit and the world. He will not have been a Christian a great while before he will have discovered that it is conducive to worldly prosperity. God- liness is profitable to all things having the promise of the life that now is, and that which is to come. When Christ sends the devils out of a human being, he soon gets enough of the world to buy a box of spikenard, very precious and costly. The ragged, unmanageable sinners whom He saves, are soon to be found at His feet, clothed and in their right mind. These effects influence the soul. Having received so much good, he is tempted to think there is no more good to get, shuts his eyes to the fact that there is good to do, and that these new and rich mer- cies are all agencies by which he can and ought to do good unto others. He has, however, lived long for himself; his previous habits suggest that he is bound to take care for himself He is tempt- ed by the lust of the eye and the pride of life. At present he has not learned that it is more blessed to give than to receive. He questions whether it will be policy for him to unite with God's people. Here is a difficulty often to be met in various forms. It will be an advantage for him to do as he feels he ought, if only to keep his heart open. There are difficulties of a marked nature between faith and doubt. The former difficulty is between spirit and flesh ; this between spirit and mind — between reason and faith. The in- tellect is used for the purpose of the flesh, or spirit. Man reasons, imagines, and thinks at their dictation. The mind, having been long on the side of the flesh, enters into the con- flict, and produces doubt concerning the very powers \yhich have produced a new life. The Hill Difficulty. ^ 109 The Christian reads, "the just shall live by faith." He believes, and hath the life in himself. Faith is, first of all, credence of certain historical facts. So far it is mental. It is, again, the choice of some rule of life. With a Christian, it is choosing to obey the Lord Jesus ; herein it is moral. And it is conformation of the thoughts and affections to the mind of God; herein it is spiritual. A Christian may be conscious of these powers in his soul and life, and yet be tempted to doubt. And no wonder! Doubt is even consistent with faith — I had almost said necessary to it; certainly incident thereto. Personally. I thank God for my doubts, and personally. I have but little respect for the mind that has them not. and dares not grapple with them. Bunyan doubted. He doubted the being of God, and doubted his Saviour. Good men — aye, the best of men have doubted. It is not ne- cessarily sinful. To believe without evidence is sinful, for that is to violate the law of God, written in the constitution of the human mind. It is superstition and not faith. The genesis of Christian doubt is this : The new life makes a man more intellectual. He no sooner begins to live than he wants to know. He cannot remain ignorant. He begins to ask himself the why and the wherefore. He has been taught that to doubt is sinful, and because he cannot help doubting he' believes himself sinful. He condemns himself in the thing that he allows. He began the life as a sinner, now he rises to be a theologian. This is right; he ought to be able to give a reason for the hope that is in him. Then, again, he asks of himself and demands proofs from others concerning the verities of our holy religion, which do not apply,' and because these cannot be given, his doubts deepen. Let us acknowledge at once that we cannot give the demanded proof for the things surely believed among us. Why? Because such is not forthcoming ; it is absurd. You cannot have the same kind of proof for one thing that can be given satisfactorily for another. Two and two make four. This I can prove by mathematics, in all manner of ways. Water is composed of certain gases. I cannot prove the statement by I lo Lecture VIII. the means used to prove the other. Mathematics will not ap- ply. I have in this instance to apply chemistry. Beecher, Simpson, Gladstone, Bright, are great orators; I cannot prove this statement by either mathematics or chemistry ; but I can prove it by universal testimony, and the effect of their words. Camilla Urso is a great violinist ; Arbuckle a great cornet solo- ist ; Arabella Goddard a great pianist ; Kellogg a great singer ; but I cannot prove these predications by any other means than of the senses. If a man is charged with a crime, it has to be proven by testimony. History has to be proven by contempo- rary writings ; poetry and art by other means. They cannot, however, be judged as Sterne's traveler attempted to judge them, by a stop-w'atch and a two-foot rule. We are frequently asked, and the Christian asks for proofs of the things he believes, which do not apply ; and because he does not ask wisely, plunges himself into unreasonable doubts and much distress. Now I cannot demonstrate that there is a God ; but I can demonstrate that it is exceedingly foolish and unreasonable for any man not to believe in His existence. I cannot demonstrate that there is a future life, but I can bring forward so much presumptive evidence in favor of the doctrine, and I can demonstrate that men who refuse such evidence as conclusive, do act in the most important matters of life on so very much less, that it is unreasonable to deny, and foolish to doubt it. I cannot demonstrate that the Bible is wTitten, as it claims to be. by holy men, inspired by God, but I can convince any convinceable man that otherwise "man would not have written it if he could, and could not if he would." and leave the burden of accounting for its existence with him. I cannot prove to the absolute exclusion of doubt that Christ came into the w^orld to save sinners, but I can prove two things ; first, that sinners are saved from sin, selfishness, and animalism by believing in Him ; and I can prove that the story concerning Him as told in the New Testament, and as preached by the Churches, has revolu- tionized the world; that the countries without Christ are behind in civilization, and those who know His life, teaching and death, The Hill Difficulty. 1 1 i are highest in rank. T can prove that if the history we have be not true, then the fiction is the greater miracle. I can prrK'e that the love of God, displayed in Christ, so far transcends the highest pagan conception of the relation of gods and men. as manifestly to cause every honest mind to recognize its super- human origin. But after I have brought out all my proof to convince the intellect, I am conscious of other evidence which I cannot utter ; which I can neither write or speak. It satis- fies me ; for it is the secret of the Lord. I know I have passed from death to life. I know that the Son of Man has come and given us an understanding that we may know Him that is true. Much perplexity arises froin this source, and as the young- Christian begins the investigation of the deepest problems that can engage the human mind, it is not to be wondered that he feels the difficulty of doubt. But should such an one join the Church? 1 think so. There was an honest doubter among the disciples. God does not force any man's faith. If any man asks evidence He will give it. He will say to every honest doubter "Reach hither thy finger and behold my hands ; and reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side ; and be not faithless, but believing." Such as the Lord instructs the Church may accept. Every Christian will have to struggle with doubt. It may take the form already indicated, or it may be that he will doubt one or more of the accepted doctrines held by the Church to which he is attached. In such an instance the question is hard- ly one for the candidate to decide. It is for the Church. Can the Church receive such an one? According to Scripture, I answer, yes. "Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubtful disputations." The practice of Churches is scrip- tural, although those who regard our method of receiving mem- bers as loose, had better look at home, and see if a ' 'general assent" does not mean a strong dissent from some particular and even vital point. A Christian will find a difficulty arising between love and selfishness. Sin is essentially selfish. Men break God's law and neglect to keep His commands, in order to gratify and 1 12 Lecture VIII. please themselves. The Christian is born again, and into a mode of life in which love to God and man is to rule. He knows he has passed from death unto life, because he loves the brethren. He loves the brother, because the Father first loved him. Nor does he love in thought or in word, but in deed and in truth. Against this, the old carnal life protests. Men are unloveable and unthankful. They are stubborn, and will not readily respond to His affection. He takes the New Testament idea of a church, and sees it to be a congregation of men and women, who meet to worship God through Christ, and so cul- tivate the spirit of Christ. And he knows the spirit of Christ to be eminently love. He regrets that he cannot love men, that his affections grow cold. He believes in universal brother- hood as a theory ; but when it comes to practice, his old nature and habits decline. He thinks he ought not to join the Church in this condition. Herein have I sketched the difficulties which occur to men in their way from the Cross to the Church. They are not fancy pictures, but facts. Most pastors will recognize in them the the likeness of true objects. It is now my purpose to show the manner in which these difficulties were overcome. I said, in a previous lecture, that God is never behindhand with His remedies. I now say that He is never behindhand with His grace. He giveth grace for grace. As our day. so is our strength. His grace is sufficient for us. Strength comes before trial. Bunyan places at the foot of the hill a spring. The Pilgrim refreshes himself thereat, and attacks his difficul- ties in the strength thereof Let that spring represent some means of grace ; say, a season of private prayer, of quiet meditation, diligent study of the Word of God ; earnest pub- lic worship — one or all of these means, that we use to obtain a supply of Divine strength. Observe, particularly, the spring is before the journey. How true to nature ! As if God, from all eternity, anticipated the The Hill Difficulty. 113 need of travelers, at the foot of hills you may find the coolest, and most refreshing springs of water. Behind, beneath, in the rocks which the human eye cannot see and the mind does not imagine, God is filtering water, and, before the tourist ascends the mountain, opens a vein in its side, and lets it flow for his strength and comfort. Let this fact of nature be a lesson in religion, and then it will correct a very unscriptural idea of worship, both public and private. We too often think, and, perhaps, teach, conscious- ly or unconsciously, that prayer and faith are only to blot out sins. Are there not some in this condition? Do they not sin, and then go to church, or go to private prayer, for forgiveness to wash it all away ? I know that there are men in this state. But, brethren, worship should always precede sin ; it should be used to prevent sin. Believe me. God is more glorified in your virtue than in your penitence. You are to pray that you may not be led into tempation, but delivered from evil. There is no virtue in being happy in sin, and then going to church and calling ourselves miserable sinners. If we are miserable sinners, had we not better pray for grace to leave them off? You probably remember the case of King Saul ; how he disobeyed the com- mand of the Lord, and then sought to atone for his disobedience by offering a very large sacrifice? He put worship in the wrong place. He should have sought strength to keep the command. And now listen to the words of Samuel to the mistaken man, " Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offer- ings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of the Lord?" A very emphatic way of .saying that he had not? It would be well to remember that God having raised up his Son Jesus, sent Him to bless you in turning away every one of you from your iniquities. The privilege I set before you has the merit of possessing common sense. In the other method, there is neither wisdom nor goodness, but very much presumption and, frequently, very — 15 1 14 Lecture VIII. much sin. We rise in the morning, and eat our early meal to provide against exhaustion. Gymnasts practice long and well, so that in the day of trial they may accomplish their pur- poses with ease and success. We send our children to school during the whole of their early life, so that they may be pre- pared for the duties of men and women, when they become such. To-day's work is but preparation for to-morrow's want. Let us be as wise in religion as we are in other things. Let every spring in nature, every well by the wayside, every time our table is spread, every child we send to school, teach us this important lesson that grace is given so that we may conquer difficulties, the world, the flesh, doubt, and the devil — yea, that God is more glorified when we obtain from Him so much strength that these difficulties disappear. The way was so steep and rugged that he used all manner of means to succeed, "running, going, clambering." He had to use all his strength, and exert all his faculties. There is some- thing grandh' heroic in him. He doggedly determined to keep on. So must you. How I have kept on, I do not know. I have had as many battles in the flesh as most of you ; had as many doubts and questionings as you ; am naturally as selfish as any of you, but here I am, by the grace of God. It has only been by persevering in the teeth of difficulties. God has fashioned all our hearts alike. He hath made of one blood all men, and therefore what is true of myself, I opine to be true of \-ou. If we are Christians to-day, we owe it to daring, de- termined faith. We need not wonder that our Christian grew tired, for we have often been weary ourselves. In this tired condition, tired of struggling with the flesh, the world, with doubts, and against a covetous self; tired of pressing on to apprehend that for which we were apprehended in Christ Jesus, we have sought rest and refreshment, and when we have turned unto the Lord, we have found it. There are times of refreshing from His presence and in His presence. This is graphically portrayed by Runvan. The Hill Difficulty. 115 " Now, about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleas- ant harbour, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing of weary travellers." Here is a piece of English scenery. The harbor and the settle are perfectly natural. I have climbed many such hills as a child, boy and man, and found provided on them just such a retreat as is here described. I call to my mind one on Minster Hill, near one of the first churches built in Great Britain, from which I used to sit and look seaward to the German Ocean, and there invigorate my body, educate my mind and refresh my soul. Then, turning landward, look over old battle-grounds and Norman ruins, partially hid like billet-doux in boquets amid the cherry orchards and hop gardens of Kent. And I think the hills of Matlock, Buxton and Chatsworth, where, with almost princely munificence, such are provided. Here you may rest and inhale the perfume of the wild hyacinths, listen to a concert of birds, — the lark singing in the heavens, and the woods vocal in re- sponse, — watch a tempest playing on a distant hill, see pictures such as only the sun can paint, the river rippling, sparkling, splashing merrily at your feet, the rocks clad in fern and shrub, the hedge-rows in white blossom like the bride of summer, the banks covered with the forget-me-nots — here you may sit, think and feel thoughts too deep for tears, and forget your sorrows and weariness, till the intoxicating enchantment will lull you to sleep. I have seen many asleep in them, and have fallen asleep in such harbors myself.. I pity the man who does not enjoy such a place ; but I pity the man more who thinks that such places were made to sleep in. I pity the man who cannot, and does not, find refresh- ment in prayer and praise and worship, but I pity more the man who is asleep in such exercises. And yet many are asleep ; so much so, that they don't care to be roused. But our Pilgrim was roused. There came One to him who said, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways and be wise. " 1 16 Lecture VIII. God, in His book, sa}-s, " Let us not sleep as do others," " Woe to them that are at ease in Zion." " Awake thou that sleepest. " The enemy of our souls takes advantage of such seasons, and through the "times of refreshing" insinuates into our hearts such influences as will make us slumber. I have heard of poisonous insects making such slumbers fatal. A Christian asleep is like a Christian dead, and therefore useless. Luther says: "The devil once held a conference with his emissaries. They came from the four quarters of the globe, to report their doings. One said that he saw a ship freighted with Christians crossing the ocean, and that he had gathered to- gether the four winds of heaven, and blew upon it so that it was wrecked, and everyone drowned. 'What of that?' cried the devil ; ' their souls were all saved ! ' Another affirmed that he had seen a caravan of Christians journeying through a desert ; that he had gathered the wild beasts of the forest, and set them on ; that he saw them killed, their flesh eaten, their blood drank, and their bleached bones left on the desert sand. 'What of that?' cried the devil; 'their souls were all saved!' Then another came forward, and tremblingly said that he had tried for ten long, weary years to get one solitary Christian asleep, and had finally succeeded. Then the devil shouted, and all the sons of hell danced and yelled for joy." If this parable contains truth, again let me ask you to beware of sleep. Sleep is sinful to the Christian. Asleep, he cannot do the will of God. Oh, my brethren, do not let God's most precious communications to your souls produce this effect. Wait on the Lord, so that you renew your strength; mount as on wings of eagles, run and not get wear\', walk and not faint. The consequence of the sleep was — 1. He lost his roll. 2. He was filled with shame and sorrow. 3. He had to retrace his steps. 4. He had to pursue his journey in darkness. The Hill Difficulty. i 17 You will be anxious to know what became of his companions who came with him to the bottom of the hill. They thought to escape the difficulties of the hill by going round it, thinking that the ways would meet. But they did not. To escape difficulty in the Christian life is to meet danger and death. This, Formalist and Hypocrisy discovered too late. Brethren, there are difficulties in the way of righteousness, but there is neither destruction nor death. Righteousness leadeth to life. Which will you choose — the Life or the Death ? LECTURE IX THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL. [Synopsis of Chapter.— Christian arrived at the Palace Beautiful, and was afraid to enter, in consequence of two lions which appeared in his way. He would have gone back had not Watchful the Porter told him that they were chained. He was introduced to Charity by Watchlul, and then by Charity to the other members of the household, who united in giving him a very cor- dial welcome. They obtained from him a history of his journey, spread their table for him. and spent their time in profitable conversation. They put him to rest in a large upper chamber, where a window opened towards the sim- risiug : the name of the chamber was Peac^. Here he slept till break of day. In the morning they had more discourse. Then they led him to the Study, and afterwards to the Armory. He stayed with them a second night. On the morrow they led him to the top of the house, trom whence they shewed him the Delectable Mountains, and told him that when he reached them he would be able to see the gate of the Celestial City. They led him back to the Armory, where they armed him from head to foot for future con- flicts. After which, they accompanied him to the foot ot the hill to the valley of Humiliation, where they took leave of him, and gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, a cluster of raisins, and then he went on his way.] CHRISTIAN was almost persuaded to go back when he met Mistrust and Timorous, and heard their report of the dan- gers of the way. But he reasoned with himself in this fashion : "If I go back to mine own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and I shall certainly perish there. If I can get to the Celestial City, I shall certainly be in safety there. I must venture ; to go back is nothing but death ; to go forward is fear of death, and life everlasting beyond it. I will yet go forward." After he had made this noble resolution, he discov- The Palace Beautiful. " 119 ercd that he had lost his roll; was obliged to return to the place in which he had slept, and had to tread his steps thrice over, while he needed to have trod them but once. He returned to his journey in much self-condemnation. The sun went down upon him, and, in the gloom, he said, "O thou sinful sleep! How, for thy sake, am I like to be benighted in my journey ! I must walk without the sun ; darkness must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the noise of doleful creatures, because of my sinful sleep." Then the fears excited by the story of Mistrust and Timorous prevailed. "But while he was bewailing this un- happy miscarriage, he lifted up his eyes, and behold there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was Beautiful." This palace is intended by our Author to represent the Church of Jesus Christ. He further states its origin and de- sign. " It was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief and security of pilgrims. " Another thought is clearly revealed ; the straight and narrow way of righteousness through Jesus Christ leads to the Church. From the first, the men and women who follow Christ have, as if by instinct, knit themselves together for the purposes of worship and usefulness. A power in the heart should certainly bind us as firmly together as a precept in a book, even though that book be the Bible. Bunyan takes an Old Testament fact. The hill of Zion ; her towers and palaces were called Beautiful. " Beautiful for situa- tion, and the joy of the whole earth is Mount Zion." The temple and its worship were both beautiful. That beauty in- heres in religious life, has been felt through all time. In all ages men have decorated their temples. All feel that the ser- vice of praise should be beautiful. When it is not, it fails properly to impress the mind. Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. Men are not willing to appear in Church as else- where. I'^or worship, they put on their best clothes and man- ners. In the house of the Lord, men like to appear at their best. The beauty of a Church does not inhere in its material pos- sessions, however rich or brilliantly garnished, but in spiritual I20 Lecture IX. gifts and graces, for the Church is a spiritual combination of men. It is the family of God, named after Jesus Christ. The beauty upon it is the beauty of the Lord. God is beautiful. Oh ! how great is His beauty! The fringe of a weed, the form of a blade of grass, the petal of every flower, "the meanest flower that blows," the myriad insects that fill the air on a summer night, the forest, the rill, the avalanche, the rock, the mountain, the clouds, the day, the night, the colors of light, the song of creation, declare in one voice that He hath made everything beautiful in its season. Christ is beautiful. He is the fullness of the God-head, bodily. Such fullness, such harmony, such proportion, such gentleness, such strength of virtue, were never seen in man before, nor have been since. To those who know Him not, or whose eyes are yet unenlightened by the Holy Ghost, He is as a root out of a dry ground ; there is no beauty in Him that they should desire Him. A man who does not love flowers, or who does not know flowers, will probably see no beauty in the gnarled bulbs of the gladiolus, dahlia, or lily, and will be careless and indifferent to them. But the man who loves the flowers will see, prospectively, in each ugly root a beautiful production, and in them all combined a still more beautiful garden, and take care of each in proportion to his love. They are to him very fair and dear ; so is Christ to those who know and love Him. He is the Rose, the Lily, the Branch. He is the fairest among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely. To those who can ap- preciate moral beauty, there is none like Him. Now, Christians are Godlike and Christlike men, and there- fore they are morally beautiful. Men of meek and quiet spirits, men of righteousness, men of purity, men of peace, men of light, and men of love, affect the world morally as does a beautiful picture, statue or song aesthetically. Such men combined make a beautiful Church. "Must not that Church be beautiful where Watchful is the Porter, Discretion gov- erns. Prudence takes the oversight. Piety conducts the The Palace Beautiful. 121 worship, and Charity endears the members one to another?" The beauty of the Lord is upon it. If any of these elements are wantinc:^, it is inharmonious, defective, and lacks so much of beauty. The Lord desires His bride, the Church, to be beau- tiful. The difficulties contemplated in joining a Church, by our Author and by others, are represented by two lions. They were chained and harmless, but Christian did not know it. They affrighted Timorous and Mistrust so much as to send them back to the City of Destruction. They brought our Pilgrim to a halt, ' ' for he thought that nothing but death was before him." Perhaps he would have gone back, if Watchful the Porter had not relieved his fears. The difficulties portrayed refer unquestionably, first, to the disabilities under which Non-conformists lived in Bunyan's time; and. secondly, to the many fears which persons feel at taking such a step. To join a dissenting Church — a Congregational or a Baptist, for example — in his day, was to face the lion of the state ; he was thereby prohibited from obtaining or holding any civil office. It was in every way a disadvantage and regarded as a social disgrace. It was a crime to attend any dissenting place of worship. A justice might commit for such an offense with- out a jury. For the third breach sentence of transportation for seven years might be passed ; and should the criminal return before that time, he might suffer death. Ministers and others who would not conform to the Established Church were pro- hibited from going within five miles of a corporate town, or of any place where they had formerly resided. "For a time the clergy of the Church as established by law, made war on schism with so much vigor, that they had no leisure to make war on vice. The ribaldry of Etherege and Whicherly was, in the pres- ence and under the sanction of the Church, publicly recited, by female lips, in female ears, while the author of the Pilgrim's Progress languished in a dungeon for the crime of preaching the Gospel to the poor."* * Macaulay. — 16 122 Lecture IX. John Bunyan was a Baptist; he knew what he was risking when he joined himself to the ' 'sect everywhere spoken against. " But he was too conscientious to be other than true. When on one occasion about forty souls had gathered at the village of Samsel to hear him preach, and he had announced this treason- able (?) text, "Dost thou believe on the Son of God," the door opened and a justice of the peace and a posse of constables made their appearance. For this crime they marched him to prison; for the crime of "having many meetings together to pray to God and to exhort one another." for having "the sweet, comforting presence of the Lord among them, " he was sentenced by the authorities of the Church, as established by law. in these words: "You must be led back again to prison, and be there for three months following ; at the three months' end. if you do not submit and go to church to hear Divine service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm; and if after such a day as shall be appointed you to be gone, you shall be found in the realm, you shall stretch by the neck for it." But you have ho such disabilities as these, and they are removed in England now. Right has triumphed over might, and Dissent- ers keep toll-gates and post-offices, collect taxes, have seats in city councils, represent the people in parliament, are made sol- diers and lawyers and judges, are entrusted with secrets and business of the state, send their sons to the best public schools and national universities, and yet "'tis strange! 'tis passing strange!" the country remains. Perhaps the matter is explainable by taking into account that there is one class of men who are seeking salvation through Christ, and another class who are seeking it through a Church. The latter have always hated the former. This lion does not exist in this land. Should the day ever come when any one section of the Catholic Church shall have the legal right to insult the religious history of America and the other sections of the Church of Christ in this land, by calling itself "The Church of America." then the other lion will have established itself at the ©ate of the Palace Beautiful. But that The Palace Beautiful. 123 day can never conne. Even if the lion should come deprived of the teeth of the law, it would create an aristocracy on a reli- gious foundation which I need not say is foreign to the idea of Jesus Christ. It would be an unhappy marriage for both Church and State. The parties are not congenial. God would divorce the Church for adultery, and man the State for incompatibility of temper. The sentence would be wise, with costs divided between the parties. The other lion represents the fears which conscientious per- sons endure in the prospect of uniting with a Christian Church. They fear that they are not qualified ; the Church will not re- ceive them ; they are not old enough, have not sufficient expe- rience; or that they will some time or other disgrace their pro- fession. We take no important step in life, embark in no new enterprise without such feelings. The same elements of our nature are roused when we attempt this. For the sake of those who are desirous of joining a Church, and yet may fear to do so, I may describe the process of admission, as Bunyan conceived it, and as I think it ought to be. Watchful, the porter, allayed Christian's fears concerning the lions, and told him that they were chained, and were not there to hurt, but to discover the faith of the Pilgrims. After discovering whom he was and whither bound, the porter led him to the door of the house. Here he was met by Discretion. Watchful gave her the history he had learned from the Pilgrim. She ques- tioned him further, and as his answers satisfied her, she intro- duced him to others of the household ; Prudence, Piety, and Charity. We are here taught that we are to be watchful for souls, as those who must give account to God. We are to encourage those who are found in the way of righteousness to join the Church, as did the Porter, but while we do this, exercise Dis- cretion. Every one is not fit for church membership, not even all who apply. It would save some men to keep them out. But, in these days, when moral success is judged by arithmetic, when many, and not much, is the standard, we are likely to be 124 Lecture IX. careless. In building a house, you take care to sort your lum- ber ; you do not put into it any that is unseasoned or unsound, because you know it will shrink or rot, and your house become unsafe, uncomfortable, and worthless. In like manner the admission to our churches of unprepared souls will destroy them. Two cannot walk together unless they are agreed. With Discretion, Charity. Prudence, and Piety, he entered the Palace. Many of the members of the household met him at the threshold, saying, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord; this house was built by the Lord of the hill, on purpose to en- tertain such pilgrims in. " After he had received refreshment, they proposed conversation, and appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to' have "particular discourse" with him. The story shews that Piety derived from him an account of his motives and a history of the events of the pilgrimage, with which we are acquainted. Prudence learnt the state of his affections to- wards the things that were behind, and Charity got to know what he had done to bring others on the way. He stood the test which each applied, and by this time supper was ready. Now I wish you to notice one thing, particularly. . In all their conversation, and they had much ; in the entire examination, and it was long and searching; not a single doctrinal question was asked, nor a solitary theological dogma discussed. It is thought and said that those of us who would waive a theological examination of those who apply for church member- ship, are loose and liberal ; and that we have adopted our ideas because they are new ; and that these views, if universally adop- ted, would make the door of the Church too wide. My breth- ren, it is not so. Our views are not new. They are as old as Pentecost. They were received from heaven, in the gift of the Holy Ghost. Neither would they make the way to the Church too broad. We have too many heartless men and women in our Churches already. They are intelligent enough to assent to a creed, and to e^ive the technical meanino; of theological terms. The Palace Beautiful. 12; • ■' The original test of Christ and his apostles was love to God and man. It has never been disannulled. Other things have been substituted for it. but it still stands, the eternal essential of Christian life — a nature like God's, the spirit of love. And so we say to those who push a creed before the candidate, breth- ren, it is you who make a mistake ; your views are new ; you have no warrant for them in the New Testament. You are working ruin to the Church, even if you do add to it daily a number of those very respectable, well-to-do people, who have no need to be born again. Moreover your practice is unwise and unphilosophical. The fellowship of the Church does not rest on the social or intellectual basis, but on the higher — the spiritual. It is therefore wrong to admit members on the face of a dead creed, if Christ demands a soul of holy love. John Bunyan is on our side, both in his allegory and in practice. His Church at Bedford was "founded on the principle, and it is stiil observed, now two centuries since his death, of requiring from members simply faith in Christ and holiness of life, without res- pect to this or that circumstance, or opinion in outward or cir- cumstantial things," and says the latest incumbent of his pulpit, as though he had caught the mantle from the elder piophet, "On this truly catholic basis, and not on that of mere ecclesias- tical organization, may the Church of the future stand." To all of which we say Amen and Amen. But notice a more positive element in this matter. The admission of members into the Church should be the occasion of great joy. This is beautifully described in the abundant wel- come which I have already read ; then in the refreshments they gave him ; then in their conversation until supper was ready; then the supper, the table with fat things, and wine that was well refined ; and above all. the delightful talk "about the Lord of the hill ; as. namely, about what he had done, and where- fore he did what he did, and why he had builded that house;" and adds our Dreamer, "By what they said I perceived He had been a great warrior, and had fought with and slain him that 126 Lecture IX. had the power of death, but not without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more." "Who can tell the joy, the bliss Of communion such as this! Tliese have been, let others say At the gates of heaven to-daj." Thus they discoursed together until late at night, and after they had committed themselves to the Lord for protection, be- took themselves to rest. The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sunrising; the name of the chamber was Peace, where he slept until break of day. and then he awoke and sang — "Where am I now.'' Is this the love and care Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are. Thus to provide! That I should be forgiven, And dwell already the next door to heaven." Compare the ideas this suggests with our formal methods. We read a confession of faith from a book, to which the can- didate answers with a bookish assent. We read the terms of covenant from a book to the candidate, the Church agreeing thereto, as in duty bound, because it is in the book, responds from a book. The work is done, the books are carefully laid away for the next occasion, and the readers disperse. Learn a lesson from the blacksmith. When he wants to unite two pieces of iron so as to make them one. he does not attempt the task if both are cold, nor does he heat one and allow the other to be cold. No ! iron won't weld thus. But he heats them both to white heat, brings them together on the anvil, "strikes while the iron is hot," and so makes them one. Moral: You cannot weld a warm convert on to a cold Church. If there be joy in heaven over a sinner that repenteth, there ought to be some manifestation of it in the Church on earth. Just now you heard me strongly object to the reception of members into our Churches on a doctrinal basis. I do not re- The Palace Beautiful. 127 gret what I have said, but I do regret that I cannot say it in a stronger manner. But now let me state the position of doctrine. After they had admitted Christian on the basis of experience and love ; on the facts of his history, motives, and purposes, then, and not till then, they led him into The Study. This is wise. A child must be born before he can be taught He must have a home and a school before he can be trained. A man must have spiritual life before he can receive spiritual things. I do not object to doctrine in itself, for I am bound as a steward of the manifold grace of God to take heed unto myself and to the doctrine, and I call you to witness that I am not ashamed to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints. Once delivered to the saints. I am not under obligation to defend every compendium of belief that claims to be the faith. The Study is the Word of God. Bunyan never read (at least history does not record it) a work on systematic theology. He had with him in prison the Bible and Fox's Book of Martyrs. After his release he obtained a copy of "Luther on the Gala- tians," so old that, says he. "it was ready to fall piece from piece if I did but turn it over." This is the only theological literature that we learn of as being in his possession, and it is practical and not scientific or speculative ; and yet, says the late Dr. Arnold, who echoes the sentiments of numbers in the high- est places of our literature, "I hold John Bunyan to have been a man of incomparably greater genius than any of [our divines] and to have given a far truer and more edifying picture of Christianity." If any of you were to send your sons to be practical engin eers, the first lesson they would have to learn would be this: Never to take a measurement except from the standard tem- plates. It is a fact that engines could not be made successfully if this simple rule were departed from. The old artists copied from nature. The leading scientists of to-day have always been bet- ter acquainted with nature than with books. There is a man in this country at whose feet the clergy sit, like children, to learn 128 Lecture IX. the ways of God. He is a one Book man ; a Bible-made theolo- gian, it is these little departures from the Bible that make our Churches so powerless to-day. In vain have we put aside the commandments of God for traditions of men. Let us learn that the truest and only needed theology is in The Book of Books. Let us keep the best of books in our hands, and our eyes con- tinually lifted to heaven. From the Study they took the Pilgrim to the Armory, where they shewed him all manner of things illustrative of the principle "that the just shall live by faith;" shewed him the various in- struments by which holy men of old had won their several vic- tories; then he was clad with the helmet of salvation, the breast-plate of righteousness, the girdle of truth, the sandals of peace, the shield of faith ; yea, they harnessed him from head to foot with weapons offensive and defensive. Hitherto he had appeared in the robe he received at the Cross; now, that is covered with the habiliments of a warrior; he now enters a new period of his existence, in which he will have to fight his way. A question has often been asked; one which I will now try to answer: Cannot a man be a Christian without joining the Church ? I have no hesitancy in answering, yes ; and what is more, I will say that some of the best Christians are outside the Churches, and they are outside in consequence. They have such high conceptions of the Christian character, such fears that they will bring a reproach upon it, that they, for these reasons, do not ally themselves with God's people. The best man, by far, that I ever knew, who lived more like Christ than any other of my acquaintance, and to whom I am more indebted for what- ever aspiration I may have to follow my Lord, was not and is not a member of any religious denomination. Such as these the Church would be glad to receive. But while I have made these admissions. I want, in my turn, to ask you a question: "Ought not such men as I have descri- bed to join a Church?" The friend to whom I have alluded, The Palace Beautiful. 129 the class which I have just described, would be better, inasmuch as they would do more good in the Churches than out. To do good as ye have opportunity, is the law of Christian life. To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is a sin. The Church needs them. They ought to let their light so shine that men may see their good works. They ought not to put their candle under a bushel. They ought to add their house to the city set on a hill, so that it cannot be hid. Can any man be a good Mason or Odd-Fellow out of the lodge? Can he be a good party politician and yet lend his influence to the other side? Will you, then, my friends, who are Christians, continue to give your influence to the world? Unconsciously, I believe, you are against us. Whosoever is not with ME is against ME. He that gathereth not with ME scattereth abroad. After Christian had been so instructed, refreshed, and equip- ped, the members of the household went with him down the hill. Here they bade him farewell. He will have to go into the Valley of Humiliation alone. But they anticipated his wants; they gave him ' 'a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a cluster of raisins." Thus to the vale they all descend, Whither the Pilgrim's footsteps tend — A lonely dell. They give him of their goodly store. As emblems of the love they bore, And then — Farewell. — 17 LECTURE X. APPOLYON. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Scene: The Valley of Humiliation, where Christian was "hard put to it." He was met here by a foul fiend, named Appolyon. He was afraid, and debated with himself whether to go back or stand his ground. He decided to stand, for he remembered that, with all his armor, he had none for his back. He therefore resolved to meet the foe. "So he went on, and Appolyon met him."' "Now, the monster was hideous to be- hold ; he was clothed with scales like a fish j^and they are his pride) ; he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion."' He began his attack by a series of questions ; then he claimed the Pilgrim as his lawful subject ; tried to persuade him to give up his journey, on the strength of many flattering promises ; and the assertion that nothing but sorrow could come to him if he persevered. This failing, he claimed him for unfaithful service ; reminded him of the Slough of Despond ; the wrong ways by which he had attempted to get rid of his burden ; the sinful sleep ; and fear of the lions. Christian re- mained unmoved. Appolyon therefore obstructed the way, declared himself the enemy of Christ, and began the fight. Christian stopped his darts by his shield, although they came as thick as hail. In the fight Christian lost his sword, and fell ; which Appolyon seeing, fell on him, to make sure of him. While he was letching his last blow to make an end of him. Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy ! When I fall, I shall arise," and with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received his mortal wound. Christian conquered. After the battle, he partook of the provision given him by the sisters of the "Palace Beautiful," and bandaged his wounds with leaves from the Tree of Life. Thus refreshed and restored, he went on his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand. "But he met with no other affront from Appolyon quite through this Valley."] ''"HHE Pilgrim was much refreshed in the Beautiful Palace, as J[ we have already seen ; but before he left, yea, while he was Appolyon. 1 3 1 anxious to depart on his journey, unequipped, unprovided, and not sufficiently instructed, the Sisters "lead him to the top of house and bid him look south ; so he did ; and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very delectable to behold." This is "Immanuel's Land," the mountains are "The Delecta- ble Mountains," from which he will be able to see the gate of the Celestial City. Fired with the prospect he recommenced his journey. He had not traveled far ere he found his way ob- structed by a foul fiend named Appolyon, who objected to his pilgrimage, and endeavored to turn him back. He had to learn that a prospect and its attainment, a promise and its fulfillment, are different matters. Any man who is determined to realize hopes and ambitions, will have to meet and overcome the everlasting NO. No effort can be made in a worthy direction without discovering this. Let a young man resolve to save money for old age. His flesh, sense of present needs, the maxims of the world, will unite against the first effort, and when it is made, join their powers to undo what is done. Take the question of slavery. Slavery is wrong. To abolish it is right. But the attempt to do so met with powerful opposition. Many arguments were used and schemes proposed, but nothing was done until hostile forces met in deadly conflict and decided the matter by force of arms. The might of right is always opposed by the powers of evil and self-interest. Intemperance is a great evil. It is right to eradi- cate it. But let a man who has been addicted to drunkenness, and who, in consequence has suffered in body, mind, estate, family, and society, receive the vision of a restored home and manhood, family and social position ; let such an one take the usual or some unusual step to return to this, and he will be seriously opposed. Every step onward and upward will be dis- puted. He will be confronted by his appetites, habits, the thralldom of his character, companions and institutions, which in his reform lose the life of their existence. 132 Lecture X. Let humane men attempt to control this evil, and hostile powers will immediately arise and fight for lawlessness. All manner of opprobious epithets will be applied to the reformers; they will be derided, probably persecuted ; bad motives will be attributed to them ; the power of money will oppose the power of righteousness. The farmer who conceives of a happy home on the Western prairie, will not realize his dream without conflict. With him, loneliness, lack of means, uncleared lands, miasma, tornadoes and filthy streams will contend. And it is only after years of fighting the timber, the swamp, the miasma, the mortgage, with faith, brains and patience incased in the axe, plow and drain, that he will conquer. The Christian life is no exception to this law. A Christian has to go down into the Valley of Humiliation, and personally contend with the enemy of his soul. The conflict of a Christian is in his spirit. It is a warfare that the eye does not see. It is the true battle of life. The battles of which we read in history — Marathon, Waterloo and Bunker Hill — are but shadows of inward facts. The battles of life are fought in the soul. The Christian struggles with an evil spirit other than himself. This other than himself we call The Devil ; Satan. But is there a dcviU A very important question to ask and decide. Bunyan believed in one ; the Scriptures declare the existence of one supreme prince of devils, and hosts of evil spirits under his control. The question that I have started is interesting. We must decide it one way or the other, or our allegory will have no meaning. There are various theories and beliefs extant on this subject. I propose to discuss them under four distinct heads : — I. The Pagan. The Christian. 0- The Scriptural 4- The Rational. Each of these is an attempt to explain the existence of evil in our midst. Men are not all bad, nor all good, yet of the Afi'oi.von. 133 • . mass of men in civilized countries, if we may judge by the phenomena which comes to the surface of society, we may say that the thought of their heart is continually evil. The best of men affirm that they are frequently tempted in a most powerful manner to commit the worst of crimes. Some fall under the pressure of temptation. Others, again, make no distinction between evil and good ; they call light darkness, and say to evil, "Be thou my good," thus shewing that darkness hath blinded their eyes. Crime afflicts the world like a plague. Unaccountably whole communities and countries are moved to the commission of crime. Suicide and murder become mania- cal and epidemical. Under the name of religion, philosophy, science and humanity, the most revolting deeds have been committed. Evil is incarnated, deified, worshiped ; and I shall show that there is evidence to-day of "possession" in man of evil other than himself Now, how are we to account for this ? It is agreed on all hands that evil did not originate with God. The perfectly GOOD, the absolutely holy, could not create evil. The thought implies a contradiction. It is unthinkable. Man declares, by his individual efforts, by legislation, by his choice of the lesser evil, that it is foreign to him. He treats it as he tioes small-pox or scarlet fever. He is ever trying to banish it from himself and the world. Each man becomes vicarious to this end. It is not his normal condition. Sin is unnatural. Its results are dreaded by him. But we know nothing of moral evil apart from personality. We cannot attribute it to anything deprived of intelligence, affection and will. If, therefore, evil is not of God — and a little thought will convince you that it is not ; if man, everywhere and by every kind of effort, declares that it is foreign to him ; if, therefore, we know nothing of moral evil apart from person- ality — we are driven to the conclusion that it emanates from a being of intelligence, affection and will : this being we call the Devil. 134 Lecture X. This diabolical power, exerted by this malevolent being, takes two forms — temptation and possession. Pagans make this being equal to God. The system of Zoro- aster makes him so, as also the religious system of the ancient Egyptians. In many Pagan countries he is worshiped now as an equal of the Supreme Being, and the phenomena of men under the absolute control of some evil spirit is not to be doubted. Says Robert Charles Caldwell: — *T contend that it appears that certain demonstrations of the present day, as far as outward evidence of their affliction goes, display as plain signs of demonical possession as ever were displayed eighteen hundred years ago. I hold that — as far as sense can be trusted and history relied upon — several pey-a-dis, or devil-dancers, could be produced to-morrow in Southern India, who, as far as can be ascertained, are as truly possessed of evil agencies as was the man who was forced by the fiends within him to howl that he was not himself, but that his name was 'Legion. ' Not a few of the persons I refer to are, on ordinary occasions, calm. They have their vocations, and often pursue them diligently. Sometimes they have their wives and children ; they possess their inherited hut, small plantain- garden, well, and score of palmyras. They eschew bhang as a rule, and the juice of the poppy, and arrack. They are quiet, sleepy men and women, who occupy much of their time in staring over the yellow drifting sands, at the quail-flocks as they flit hither and thither, or at the gaunt, solitary wolves which skulk under the shade of thorny thickets, waiting for an unwary goat to pass by. But evening draws near; the sunset reddens over the Ghauts; the deep mellow notes of the wood-pigeons grow fainter, and then cease ; fireflies twinkle out ; great bats flap by lazily overhead ; then comes the dull tuck of the tom- tom ; the fire before the rustic devil temple is lit ; the crowd gathers and waits for the priest. He is there! His lethargy has been thrown aside ; the laugh of a fiend is in his mouth. He stands before the people, the oracle of the demon, the devil- possessed ! About eight years ago, I was staying in Tinnevelly. Apfolyon. 135 The priest appeared suddenly at the devil-temple before the expectant votaries. A caldron was over the fire, and in it was lead in a molten state. 'Behold,' calmly cried the priest, 'the demon is in me. I will prove to you all the presence within me of the omnipotent divinity.' With that, he lifted the caldron, and poured the liquid lead over his head. Horns were blown, tom-toms beaten, fresh logs of resinous wood flung into the fire, and goats duly sacrificed. The priest staggered about a little, and then fell down in a fainting fit. Three days after- wards he died in horrible agony. But his mind was clear and calm to the last. The latest words he uttered were, 'It is indeed I who am the true God!' In the midst of his fearful torture, and even in the hour of death, he believed, with the fiercest certainty of faith, that his body was the inviolate shrine of the almighty demon he adored. That demon was to him the Supreme. With that indwelling demon he .identified himself So he died, announcing his own divinity. Was that man 'pos- sessed of an evil spirit?' "The natives of Southern India believe that, when any one meets with an untimely end, his soul wanders about near the locality of his death, and will make deadly mischief unless it is appeased and propitiated. This propitiation, think the simple folk, can only be effected by offering to it those things in sacri- fice in which its possessor, whilst he was alive, delighted. But if, notwithstanding all precautions, an outburst of cholera, or other calamity, overtakes the scene of the dead man's last moments, the misfortune is at once, as a matter of course, laid at the door of the wraith of the deceased. Something has angered it. It will not be laid. It must be a malignant devil, and nothing short of it. Beat the tom-tom louder ! Let the fattest sheep be offered as a propitiation ! Let the horns blare out as the priest reels about in the giddy dance, and gashes himself in his frenzy! More fire! Quicker music! Wilder bounds from the devil-dancer ! Shrieks, and laughter, and sobs, and frantic shouts ! And over the long, lone valley, and up the bouldered mountain-side, under the wan moon, thrills out, sad 136 Lecture X. and savage and shrill, the wild, tremulous wailing of women and yells of maddened men. — 'Ha, ha! I am God ! God! The God is in me and speaks ! Come, hasten, tell me all : I will solace you — curse you ! God is in me, and I am God ! Hack and slaughter ! The blood of the sacrifice is sweet ! Another fowl — another goat ! Quick, I am athirst for blood ! Obey your God !' — Such are the words 'which hoarsely burst from the frothy lips of the devil-dancer, as he bounds, and leaps, and gyrates, with short, sharp cries, and red eyes almost starting from their sockets. He believes he is possessed of the local demon, whom he continually treats just as if it were a divinity, and the people believe in the hallucination. They shudder, they bow, they pray, they worship. The devil-dancer is not drunk, for he has eschewed arrack. He has not been seized with epilepsy: the sequel shows that. He is not attacked with a fit of hysteria, although within an hour after he has begun his dancing, half of his audience are thoroughly hysterical. He can scarcely be mad, for the moment the dance is over he speaks sanely, and quietly, and calmly. What is it, then ? You ask him. He simply answers, 'The Devil seized me, sir. ' You ask the by- standers. They simply answer, 'The Devil must have seized him.' "Of one thing I am assured — the devil-dancer never 'shams' excitement. He appears to me deliberately to work himself up to a state of ecstacy — a 'standing outside of oneself, ' in its pri- mary sense. By a powerful act of volition, he almost wholly merges, so to speak, his individuality in that of the demon he worships, as that individuality shapes itself to his own mind. He calls out, T am God,' when, by virtue of his entire possession by the object of his adoration, he supposes himself to be com- mingled with the demon-divinity, his nature interfused by its nature. Calmly he laughs at the gashes which his own sacrifi- cial knife makes on his body ; calmly, I say, for in the midst of his most frantic frenzy he is savagely calm. • Whether this be devil-possession or not, I cannot help remarking that it appears to me that it would certainly have been regarded as such in New Testament times. Appolyon. 137 Let me try once more to bring the whole scene vividly before the reader. "Night, starry and beautiful, with a broad low moon seen through palms. A still, solemn night, with few sounds to mar the silence, save the deep, muffled boom of breakers bursting on the coast, full eight miles distant. A lonely hut, a huge sol- itary banyan tree, grim and gloomy. All round spread inter- minable sands, the only vegetation on which is composed of lofty palmyras, and a few stunted thorn-trees and wild figs. In the midst of this wilderness rises, spectre-like, that aged enor- mous tree, the banyan, haunted by a most ruthless she-devil. Cholera is abroad in the land, and the natives know that it is she who has sent them the dreaded pestilence. The whole neighbourhood wakes to the determination that the malignant power must be immediately propitiated in the most solemn and effectual manner. The appointed night arrives; out of village, and hamlet, and hut pours the wild crowd of men, and women, and children. In vain the Brahmins tinkle their bells at the neighboring temple ; the people know what they want, and the deity which they must reverence is supreme just now. On flows the crowd to that gloomy island in the star lit waste — that weird, hoary banyan. The circle is formed ; the fire is lit ; the offer- ings are got ready — goats and fowls, and rice and pulse and sugar, and ghee and honey, and white chaplets of oleander-blos- soms and jasmine-buds. The tom-toms are beaten more loudly and rapidly, the hum of rustic converse is stilled, and a deep hush of awe-struck expectancy holds the motly assemblage. Now the low, rickety door of the hut is dashed open. The devil-dancer staggers out. Between the hut and the ebon shadow of the sacred banyan lies a strip of moonlit sand ; and as he passes this, the devotees can clearly see their priest. He is a tall, haggard, pensive man, with deep-sunken eyes and matted hair. His forehead is smeared with ashes, and there are streaks of vermilion and saffron over his face. He wears a high coni- cal cap, white, with a red tassel. A long white robe, or angi, shrouds him from neck to ankle. On it are worked, in red silk, —18 138 Lecture X, representations of the goddess of small-pox, murder, and cholera. Round his ankles are massive silver bangles. In his right hand he holds a staff or spear, that jingles harshly every time the ground is struck by it. The same hand also holds a bow, which, when the strings are pulled or struck, emits a dull boom- ing sound. In his left hand the devil-priest carries his sacrificial knife, shaped like a sickle, with quaint devices engraved on its blade. The dancer, with uncertain staggering motion, reels slowly into the centre of the crowd, and then seats himself The assembled people show him the offerings they intend to present, but he appears wholly unconscious. He croons an Indian lay in a low, dreamy voice, with dropped eyelids and head sunken on his breast. He sways slowly to and fro, from side to side. Look ! You can see his fingers twitch nervously. His head begins to wag in a strange, uncanny fashion. His sides heave and quiver, and huge drops of perspiration exude from his .skin. The tom-toms are beaten faster, the pipes and reeds wail out more loudly. There is a sudden yell, a stinging, stun- ning cry, an ear-piercing shriek, a hideous, abominable gobble- gobble of hellish laughter, and the devil-dancer has sprung to his feet, with eyes protruding, mouth foaming, chest heaving, muscles quivering, and outstretched arms swollen and straining as if they were crucified ! Now, ever and anon, the quick, sharp words are jerked out of the saliva-choked mouth — 'I am God ! I am the true God!' Then all around him, since he and no idol is regarded as the present diety, reeks the blood of sac- rifice. The devotees crowd round to offer oblations and to solicit answers to their questions. 'Shall I die of cholera during this visitation ?' asks a grey-headed farmer of the neighborhood. 'O God, bless this child, and heal it, ' cries a poor mother from the adjoining hamlet, as she holds forth her diseased babe towards the gyrating priest. Shrieks, vows, imprecations, prayers, and exclamations of thankful praise, rise up, all blended together in one infernal hubbub. Above all rise the ghastly guttural laughter of the devil-dancer, and his stentorian howls — 'I am God ! I am the only true God !' He cuts and hacks and hews himself, and not very unfrequently kills himself there and Appolyon. ^ 1 39 then. His answers to the queries put to him are generally incoherent. Sometimes he is sullenly silent, and sometimes, whilst the blood from his self-inflicted wounds mingles freely with that of his sacrifice, he is most benign, and showers his divine favors of health and prosperity all round him. Hours pass by. The trembling crowd stand rooted to the spot. Sud- denly the dancer gives a great bound in the air; when he descends he is motionless. The fiendish look has vanished from his eyes. His demoniacal laughter is still. He speaks to this and that neighbor quietly and reasonably. He lays aside his garb, washes his face at the nearest rivulet, and walks soberly home a modest, well-conducted man." What is the explanation of this? The victims say that it is devil-possession. The Scriptures say the same thing. Can it be explained on any other hypothesis? The doctrine of an evil spirit, called by Christians the devil, has been held by them since the commencement of the Christian era. The apostles found the Jews believing in demoniacal possession, and, if we are to take the history of His teaching and miracles as true, they too believed it. It matters not that the Jews may have learned the doctrine in Persia — the fact existed. Little indeed is said in the Old Testament of the enemy of souls, but when Christ came, when the Sun of Right- eousness appeared, the Prince of Darkness was exposed. You see no shadows in a dark night, but in the noonday sunshine they are to be seen everywhere. Men saw not the god of the world till He who lighteth every man who cometh into the world made his presence known. Afterwards Manes, a convert from Persia, appeared and estab- lished the doctrine of the Manicheans, compounded Zoroaster with Christ, and wrought into the Christian the Pagan idea that God and the Devil were equal, had been so from all eternity, and were therefore entitled to equal homage. Augustine for a time believed in the doctrine, afterwards became convinced of its superficialty, abandoned it, and preached against it. Later we find the doctrine of a personal devil the foundation of the system of witchcraft believed in by Christians of the early 140 Lecture X. and middle centuries. The popular notion of this being was derived from sacred representations by monks in their myste- ries, miracles and moralities. It is much the same as that which artists now indulge in, and by which we were frightened when children. He was represented as "a large, ill-formed, hairy sprite, with horns, a long tail, cloven feet, and dragon's wings. ' Such was the conception which Luther believed, and which gave John Bunyan the material for his artistic description. Artists' angels and demons must be taken for what they are worth. But the Christian Church has been strangely impressed with their conceptions. It was also generally believed that there was an infinite number of inferior demons ; that the earth swarmed with millions of them ; that they led beautiful women astray, and increased and multiplied with fearful rapidity. The air was supposed to be full of them, and many unfortunate men and women drew them by thousands into their mouths and nostrils at every inspiration. Most persons said that the number of these demons was so great that they could not be counted, but Wierus asserted that they amounted to no more than seven millions four hundred and five thousand nine hundred and twenty-six, (it is well to be particu- lar in these matters), and that they were divided into seventy-two companies or battalions, to each of which there was a prince or captain. They could assume any shape they pleased. They sometimes made themselves hideous, and at other times they assumed shapes of such transcendent loveliness that mortal eyes never saw beauty to compare with them.* Coming down the centuries, we discover a great change in the opinion of man concerning the Devil, till Thomas Paine could say, with some amount of truth, "The Christian religion puts the Christian Devil above the Creator." The poets have made him a being to be admired. Macaulay, criticising the poem of Montgomery, entitled "Satan," says: "The poet, with the ex- ception of locomotion, has failed to represent a single Satanic * Mackay's Extraordinary Popular Delusions. Appolyon. 141 , . • quality. We have yet to learn that Satan is a respectable and pious gentleman, and we would candidly advise Mr. Montgom- ery to alter about one hundred lines, and republish his volume under the name of Gabriel." Lamb says to Southey: "You have all your life been making a jest of the Devil. You have flattered him in prose ; you have chanted him in goodly odes ; you have been his jester, volunteer laureate, and self-elected court poet to Beelzebub." This is a decided change. But Milton's Satan has more profoundly impressed the Christian world. He proceeds on the principle that nothing is so much like an arch-angel as an arch-fiend ; therefore his conception and representation of the god of this world are grand and awful. The Miltonic Satan has influenced theology more than the Bibli- cal one. But what say the Scriptures ? They certainly teach the doc- trine of Satan's personality and power. Says Kitto: "We determine the personality of Satan by the same criteria that we use in determining whether Caesar or Na- poleon were personal beings, or the personification of abstract ideas, viz: by the tenor of history concerning them, and the ascription of personal attributes to them. All the forms of personal agency are made use of by the sacred writers in setting forth the character and conduct of Satan. They describe him as having power and dominion, messengers and followers. He tempts and resists ; he is held accountable, charged with guilt ; is to be judged, and to receive final punishment. On the sup- position that it was the object of the sacred writers to teach the proper personality of Satan, they could have found no more express terms than those which they have actually used, and on the supposition that they did not intend to teach such a doctrine, their use of language incapable of communicating another idea, is wholly inexplicable." Listen to the words of another : — "Should any person, in compliance with popular opinion, talk in serious language of the existence, dispositions, declara- tions of and actions of a race of beings whom he knew to be 142 Lecture X. absolutely fabulous, we surely could not praise him for candor and integrity, but must suppose him to be either exulting in irony over the credulity of those around him, or taking advan- tage of their weakness, with the dishonest, selfish views of an impostor. And if he himself should pretend to known connec- tion with this imaginary system of beings, and should claim, in consequence of his connection with them, particular honors from his cotemporaries, whatever might be the dignity of his charac- ter in all other respects, nobody could hesitate for a moment to brand him as an impostor." This is sharp language ; nevertheless we think it will commend itself to your judgment. Without citing a number of proof texts, the Scriptural doc- trine of the devil may be summarized thus : — 1. He exists. 2. He is a person, an ego, with affection, intellect, and will. 3. He is a moral being. A free agent, as we are, and therefore capable of guilt, and liable to punishment. 4. He is a fallen being. He is not as he was when God created him. God created the devil, but not a devil. 5. He is malicious. He seeks to destroy the children of God, by tempting and possessing them. 6. He is a finite being. His power and influence are limi- ted in time and degree. He can do naught without the permis- sion of God, and no moral evil without the consent of man! 7. He is the prince of devils. Thousands upon thousands, like minded with himself, are under his dominion and do his will. 8. He has access to the souls, bodies and estates of men. These statements convey, in a very crude manner, the teach- ings of the Scriptures concerning him. The Rationalists object to the idea of a personal devil or devils. They also profess to believe in the Bible. We have a right to ask how, then, do they, with their belief, account for the statement of the Scriptures, the phenomena which we call demoniacal possession, certain cycles of crime, and the over- powering temptations of good men ? Appolyon. 143 I. As to the Scripture statements. We are told that the terms Satan, Devil, Beelzebub, the Evil One, Appolyon, etc., are mere names for "the principle of evil ;" that these names are of fictitious characters, which per- sonify to the mind this principle. But the "principle of evil" is an abstraction. It is an intellectual conception derived from and applied to certain facts. It is a phrase by which we express the substance (that which stands under) of certain facts. They existed before man could abstract the principle. They exist now, that he is possessed of the conception. The question still remains, from whom aid the evil come? It is certain that it must have come from a person. Could it have come from God, who hates it, who seeks to deliver His children from it? Rea- son answers no. A fountain cannot send out sweet and bitter waters. Did it come from man? Man says no, by word and deed. It is his affliction, not his nature. But it may be said it arises out of man's imperfection. He is in a process of devel- ment, and evil is incidental to his condition. But "imperfec- tion" implies a negation. Out of nothing, nothing comes. But evil is something. We possess it, and are possessed by it. Is not the Scripture account reasonable ? Evil came from an evil person, who has access to the minds and bodies of men. II. If the plain Scripture statements are not correct, Christ has established a false doctrine. He has imposed on the world. Are you prepared to accept that conclusion? III. If the Scripture doctrine of devils be incorrect, and the Rationalistic be true, we have this result : — There was no evil before man. The Devil is a personification of the principle of evil. Therefore, man created the Devil. This result is unfortunate for those who talk so much about the dignity and goodness of human nature. It is unfortunate for those who, denying the doctrine, teach that man is in a process of evolution, that the race must evolve something. We need not laughingly bid them look back and say, "Behold your sires!" But we solemnly look onward and 144 Lecture X. say. "Behold your offspring!" Aye, look! man that is too good and great to be imposed on by the Bible or to believe Christ; evolving fiends ! IV. The doctrine of demoniacal possession must be met by those who disbelieve in the Scriptural doctrine of devils: — 1. It is explained on physiological grounds. Those who are said to be "demoniacs were merely epileptics, hypochon- driacs, or hysterical persons. Probably they were insane or lunatic." The explanation does not cover the facts. Sickness, dumbness, lunacy are sometimes, and at other times are not, con- nected with possession. We grant that many of the symptoms are alike, but that does not prove the cause to be the same. But how does this explanation meet the phenomena which I have brought from India, occuring at the present day, connected with Devil worship ; acknowledged by the worshipers who are ignorant of the Bible, to be demoniacal possession ; and which are clearly not lunacy, epilepsy, hysteria, or hypochondria? 2. It is explained on moral grounds. It is said that all the Devil there is, or Devils there are, are in man, and these are nothing but a man's lusts and passions. What is lust? If we understand it, it is man's natural appetites desiring satisfaction unlawfully. The appetites are right, for God made them. They are essential to manhood. How is it that man sends his appetites in an unlawful direction for gratification ? It is unlaw- ful to do so. It is unnatural to do so. God made the law and adapted man thereto. His highest, fullest happiness is in being natural. God could not so move him. No man is tempted of God. The All Holy is not a partaker of any man's guilt. How is it? I ask. Is not man under the control of an evil personality other than himself? I would not mind these explanations so much if their advocates did not boast so much of enlightened reason, and pretend to give a rational explanation of the facts. To ignore phenomena is not a rational way of explaining them. Read a few passages of Scripture, substituting lusts and pas- sions for the Devil or Satan. — "And as he was coming, lusts Appolyon. 145 and passions threw him down and tare him, and Jesus rebuked lusts and passions, and healed the child." Jesus was led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the principle of evil ; or to become subject to lunacy, hysteria, melancholy, or epilepsy ; or He was led up of the Spirit to be tempted by lusts and passions. Then He who delighted to do the will of God from His heart — He who was the perfect man — felt within Himself great desires for gratifying His hurrian appetites in an unlawful manner. Then Christ desired to break the law which He came to fulfill, and which He delighted to fulfill. In His heart, and therefore in the sight of God, He was a sinner. He broke the tenth commandment, longing to break the seventh and eighth Are you prepared for the conclusion ? Could God have been well pleased with Him ? The absurdity and impiety of such statements need no refutation. Suppose that the views which I have given as Rationalistic were correct, what would be the practical result? 1. There is no personal devil, but by the devil is meant the principle of evil. The principle of evil is merely an abstraction. What do practical men care for an abstraction ? The masses do not know what we mean by the term. The devil is revealed to metaphysicians only. Who cares to fight an abstraction ? There is no heroism in knocking down a man of straw. 2. Supposing demoniacal possession to be but a physical malady, then there must be a physical cause. But has the cause been discovered? Has the riddle been solved? Is it not a fact, known to all that have studied the subject, that such diseases are frequently mental, having a mental cause ? Ay ! we may go deeper, and ask, is it not true that the cause is farther in the victim than the brain, and arises from the unnatural condition of the soul. It is from these latter causes that mental and moral remedies are needed and applied. 3. If demoniacal possession is lust, then one of two things is certain — either that lust is part of the original constitution of man, and therefore right, or it is foreign, and therefore wrong. If of the original constitution, there is no lust, man need — 19 146 Lecture X. not strive against it. Wrong is right, and right, wrong. But if it be a foreign spirit moving him from righteousness, then, and only then, will he know it to be right to strive against it. and in striving, conquer it. In this way, my friends, I have brought forward arguments in favor of the personality of Satan and devil-possession. If I have taxed your patience in doing so, my apology is, that I re- gard it as one of his deceitful tricks, a pleasure t6 him and a folly in you, to deny his existence. How pleased must he be to hear a Christian deny his existence. He gives up the fight then. He allows you to tempt him then. But how many do it? You will think me old fogyish and not liberal, and wonder why / should advance such views. Brethren. I will tell you. Before I studied the subject I denied his existence as loudly as any of you. But since I have read and studied the matter I cannot do so. There is a rigid dogmatism on this sub- ject, as on all others, which I hate. There is also a looseness, a cheap liberalism on this and kindred subjects, which from my heart I despise. I despise it in myself, in books, and if I thought you had any of it I should despise it in you. The arguments I have advanced are not answered by a curl of the lip, an incredulous smile, or by assuming that you are ' 'ad- vanced thinkers." They can only be answered by facts and reason. Who art thou that repliest against God ? And now. as I have composed this Lecture largely from the thoughts and words of others, I will be consistent and conclude in the eloquent language of one who, when speaking on this subject, said: ' 'The Bible theory is the only theory that can explain the manifest phenomena in the material and moral world. There is a God personal in His attributes and intelligent ; the source of authority ; the embodiment of wisdom, love, and power. There is on the other hand a being called Satan, equally individual ; a creature of vast cunning and power and wickedness ; the active, persistent adversary of God, and those of us who desire in our hearts to be like God. There is such a being, therefore, as Sa- tan ; and when men are commanded 'to resist evil,' it is not Appolyon. 147 mere influences that they are enjoined to withstand, but the person, the evil mind and wicked heart, that directs them. Hell has its king ; and all its black legions obeyed the voice that first hurled defiance at God. He lives and moves as the directing cause and mainspring of all the wickedness done under the sun. Murder, with its red hand and all its fingers dripping blood ; Conflagration with her blazing torch ; Rebellion that desolates ; and all the lesser agents of evil — these are his children. To deny this, is to deny the Scripture ; for this doctrine is as a cen- tral thread in its strongly woven woof. It can be withdrawn only in the disruption of the entire piece."* * Kev. W. H. H. Murray. LECTURE XI CONFLICTS. [Synoi'sis ok (JiiAi-TKU.— Christian passed out of tl>e "Nalley ol'Ilumiliatiou" into the "Vulloy of tlie Hliadow of Death. " The way to the Celestial City lay throii^fh th<» inidHt of it. It was a V(ny solitary place. At the entrance he met two men who were fi^oin^ back, and who earnestly entreated him to follow their example. 'IMiey described the valhy as dark as pitch, full of hobfjfoblins, satyrs and dragons, where those who sit bound in affliction and iron continually yell and groan in intolerable misery. In the valley the path was very narrow ; on the one hand a deep ditch, on the other a dangerous (piag. In the middle of the valley he came to the mouth of hell. Here the battle btH;ame so fciirful an'? intense that his sword was useless, and he had to betake himself to tlie weapon of all-prayer. Here he was indeed hard put to it ; when he lifted liis foot to take a step he knew not upon what or where it would fall, lie did not know his own voice, but often mistook the whis- pering of liends for it. In the darkness he was deliglited to lind that he was not alone, for ahead of liim was a traveler singing, "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Deatli I will fear no evil : for thou art with me." The sun rose upon his darkness, and by its light he discovered that the rest of the vale was also dangerous, for it was full of snares and traps set for him. But he escaped them, and in the sunlight came safely to its end. Here were seated two giants with blood, bones, and ashes strewn around them ; the name of the one was Pope, the other Pagan.] HI'", came down frotn the mountain, and like our Master, to contend with cicvils. ICvciy mountain sui^jrests a valley. An attack of fever leaves the body depressed and exhausted ; ships are borne across the ocean on billows ; nature preserves her equilibrium by storms and calms, clouds and sunshine, ebb and ilow, li^ht and darkness. It has often been noticed in Christian experience that an occasion of joy is followed by one of Conflicts. ^ 149 corresponding depression. It is therefore quite natural for us to suppose that our Pilgrim, who has been so delightfully and richly entertained in the Palace Beautiful, will soon suffer severer fortunes. They began as soon as he had entered into the Valley of Humiliation. The descent thereto was dangerous, and al- though he took his steps warily, yet he caught a slip or two. Can you not imagine him in his new armor, strong in weapons of offense and defense, and almost longing to test his skill. Let us, with the picture of the Pilgrim in our minds, tarry to think of one fact: A Christians life is in conflict with evil. Just as a soldier's life is spent in battle with his country's enemies, or in defending his country from its enemies, whether foreign or do- me.stic ; so is a Christian's life spent in relation to evil. He has to attack and prevent it. I want you to think of this, for Christian living is earnest work. In countries where the money of the people is largely spent in support of enormous armies, where the glory of a nation is written in the tale of conquest, and not in the reign of peace — they have what are called "fancy regiments." In France it was the "Imperial Guard;" in Germany it is the "Leib Garde," in England it is the "First Life Guards." They are ostensibly established for protecting the person of the reigning sovereign ; but really they are institutions where men are allowed to play soldiers in time of peace, and from which they can ea.sily with- draw in time of war. The officers buy their commi.ssions in them, and sell out when they please. They enter for the honor, and when they have had enough of it. go out. The regiment is not supposed to go to war except in cases of great emergency. They are mere ornamental appendages to the royal chariots. They dress and talk like warriors, but in reality are not. And yet they are the proudest of the entire army, and look with contempt and scorn upon soldiers who are scarred and torn and maimed — the heroes of battles. They would be humiliated in being sent to war. In this country I have seen men playing at soldiers. They were exceedingly proud of their dress, rank and regiment. And I have seen these men called out to quell a riot, and after less than a week's endurance of military life, 150 Lecture XI. although they were not in any engagement, become disgusted with the rough reahties of the duties they assumed. Now I want you to understand that there are no fancy regiments in God's service. None that you can enter and leave at pleasure. . He needs none such. If you join the church and appear before the world a professed Christian soldier, it is expected that you will fight the devil and all evil wherever and in whatever form they may be found. Personally an'd collectively your sworn allegiance to the Lord, our Righteousness, binds you to give sin no quarter. It will give you none, if you are true. You should fight intemperance, pernicious literature, gambling, pov- erty, ignorance, unbelief, and any evil that may obstruct the progress of yourself, the Church, or the world. If we do not destroy evil it will destroy us. If a farmer does not destroy the weeds they will destroy his farm. You are not to be a diletante Christian, but a soldier in conflict with spiritual wick- edness in high places. You must fight if you would reign. As Christ was, so must you be in the world. Make yourself of no reputation, and taking the sword of the Spirit, enter the fight under the banner of thy Lord ! "There's trouble on the way ; Christian! prepare thy ready bow, And strength, for this thy day! "Unsheath thy gHstening, trusty sword ; Thy spear bring forth with might. Pilgrim! be valiant, tor thy Lord And God defend the right!" Pardon this digression. Let us now follow our Author : — "Christian was hard put to it; for he had gone but a little wa\' before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him: his name is Appolyon. Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no armour for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to him might give him greater advantage with ease, to pierce him with his darts : therefore he resolved to stand his ground : for, thought Conflicts. , 151 he, harl I no more in my mind than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to stand." When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful countenance, and then began to question him : Whence came you ? and whither are you bound ? To these questions Christian was able to give a definite answer, for he knew what he had done, what he was doing, and whither he tended. He knew that lie had left the City of De- struction, was in the straight, narrow way. and that he desired to reach the Celestial City. If I take a walk to the depot to-morrow, and find you there ready for a journey, it is very likely that I shall ask "where you are going. " And if you replied that you did not know, or if the anticipated cars were going in the direction opposite the city you named, I think I should dis- play some sense in doubting your sanity. To-night I ask you, as Appolyon did Christian. "Whither bound?" Do you know where you are going ? Have you not heard that the way of unrighteousness leads to hell, and the way of holiness to heaven? You ought to be able to answer definitely the question. It is folly for a man not to know what he is living for. You know the old story of the oreacher, who preached from the text, "Adam, where art thou?" and divided it in this way: — First — All men are somewhere. Secondly — Some are where they ought not to be. Thirdly — Some will soon be where they won't like to be. A pretty good idea of the condition of human souls. You are going somewhere. Do you know the destiny to which your life leads you ? This matter of knowing really where you are, and whither bound, you can as easily tell as the blind man who .said, "Whereas I was blind, now I see;" or the Apostle who declared, that "we know we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." Satan also claimed the Pilgrim as his servant and subject. Know ye not that ye are servants to whom ye obey? Every sinner's master is the devil, that old serpent who sinned from 152 Lecture XI. the beginning. When he made this claim, Christian gave good reason for leaving his service. — "The service was too hard, and the wages such as a man could not live on. for the wages of sin is death." This is the reason why you should leave off sinning. The soul that sinneth shall die. They that sow to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption. The sinner hath no hope in his death. The way of the transgressor is hard, and in the end weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Satan next makes him great promises if he will but go back. "What our country will afford, I do here promise to give thee." This is the peculiarity of the service of sin: it is all promise. It is like John's book: in the mouth very sweet, but in the midst very bitter. All that comes of leaving righteousness is riotous living, rags and beggary. There are many kinds and degrees of sin, but the greater the sinner the more disappoint- ment and misery. Look at Lord Byron, with all that rank and wealth and genius could give him, who had given up his life to follow the pleasures of sin. Hear him in middle life, singing this mournful dirge: — "My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowerp, the fruits of love, are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief, Are mine alone. "The fire that on my bosom preys, Is lone as some volcanic isle ; No torch is kindled at its blaze, A funeral pile !" Such is the realization of sin's promises. Dante has told the tale in awful pictures. He makes hell to consist of the appetite that sin has created, the promise of satisfaction, and the ina- bility to realize it. My friends, do not believe one promise of the evil one. "Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go unpun- ished." One sin may eternally degrade you, as in the case of Reuben. The devil's promises are all lies. Conflicts. • 153 Then he sought to turn him back by holding up to him the example of renegade Christians. "It is ordinary for those that have professed themselves His servants, after awhile, to give Him the slip, and return again to me." The statement is false in design, although partly true in fact. There are some who do go back, but all do not. Perhaps the majority of those who start, hold on. It was so from the begin- ning. Backsliders are anticipated in the word of God. Some of you "did run well, what did hinder you?" Some of you, "I tell you, weeping, are the enemies of the Cross of Christ." "Ye have crucified the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame." Some of you have betrayed Him with a kiss; some have denied Him; some have cried, "Not this man, but the robber, the adulterer, the drunkard;" others, like Pilate, have given Him up to popular opinion. But there is a way of giving the slip out West that is peculiar. In the East you were members of Churches, in "good and regular standing." Since you have come West, you have united with no Church, and have been careless about maintaining any distinct religious character. As soon as the restraints of society were removed, and you breathed our liberty, you left the disciples and con- verted this liberty into license. We know your excuses — "Affairs are not managed here as there," "Preachers are not so learned, so eloquent, or so great." But are these worthy rea- sons for you to stand aloof from the Churches of Christ as they exist? You will not be saved by worshiping Eastern preachers, Churches, or habits; in fact, there is an old commandment for- bidding it — "Thou shalt have none other Gods but me." Are these reasons worthy of those of you who have professed to love the Saviour? Are they such as to warrant you giving your influence against the powers that make for righteousness? In the P>ast, you believed in the perseverance of the saints. If that doctrine be correct, what manner of men are ye ? P^ither the theology is false, or you are of a reprobate mind. The cause is not the preachers or Churches of the East, but in yourselves. You are faithless to Christ, to conscience ; you find it easy to — 20 154 Lecture XI. forsake Him, or to follow Him at a distance. Come back to thy Master. Once more take up the Cross and follow Him, and so be His disciple. He then claimed him on the score of past service. "Thou didst swear thy allegiance to me as thou hast to the King of Kings, yet I am willing to pass it by if thou wilt but go back." That is one of the results of sin. We are always being urged and held back by it. In our most sacred and solemn moments the memory of past guilt lies a heavy weight on our hearts ; our souls are forbidden to rise or to go forward in consequence. The sin of many years ago is like a foul weed in a garden, it now threatens to choke the Word, and make it unfruitful. Appolyon seeks to discourage him by referring to the dangers of the way. ' 'Thou knowest that for the most part his servants come to an ill end. How many of them have been put to shameful deaths?" Bunyan was suffering, at the time of this writing, in Bedford jail. This must have had some influence on his mind. In his "Grace Abounding" he acknowledges this. This world is no friend to grace to help us on to God. In it we shall have tribu- lation and suffer persecution. The world, and what is far worse, worldly churches, have put to death those of whom the world was unworthy. There is danger of persecution and martyrdom in the way of righteousness, but not ruin. He who would save his life shall lose it. The enemy then reminds him of the errors he has already com- mitted. Our Pilgrim made many mistakes, all of which are known to this accuser of the brethren, and all of which are detailed to the discomforture of Christian. What Christian has not made mistakes ? How frequently we have fallen into error ! In our folly chosen to sin ? Who is there so wise and good as not to have committed sins from the commencement of Christian life until now? And what Christian has not been accused of them to his frequent shame and disquiet ? Conflicts. 155 Then Satan, completely foiled in argument, unable to move Christian from the way, declared war, saying : "I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, his laws, and people. I am come out on purpose to withstand thee. " Then they fought ; Satan commencing by throwing a flaming dart at his breast, and following this up by throwing them as thick as hail. Appolyon wounded him in his head and hand and foot. He followed his work amain. Christian withstood as well as he could, but grew weak in consequence of his wounds. Then they closed. In the struggle Appolyon threw Christian. He had a dreadful fall. The fiend was sure of him now, and Christian despaired of his own life; but as God would have it, as the enemy was fetching his last blow. Christian reached his sword and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall I shall arise;" and with that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one who had received his mortal wound. This perceiving, he made at him again, saying, "Nay, in all things we are more than conquerers through Him that loved us." "In this combat no man can imagine — unless he had seen and heard — what yelling and hideous roaring Appolyon made in the fight: he spake like a dragon : and on the other side, what sighs and groans burst fronj Christian's heart. I never saw him, all the time, give so much as one pleasant look till he perceived he had wounded Appolyon with his two-edged sword: then indeed he did smile and look upward ! But it was the dreadfuUest sight that I ever saw." Brethren, the enemy of our souls desires our death. He goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. We must meet his attacks with the Word of God ; that is the Sword of the Spirit. A Christian who is not well read in the letter of the Word is at a great disadvantage, as much so as a soldier in battle without a weapon. Job conquered by his knowledge of God's revealed will. Christ conquered by reply- ing to all temptations, "It is written." ''Then the devil left Him." The shield of faith will keep Satan from destroying us. 156 Lecture XL but we need a weapon with which we can resist him. This weapon is the Sword of the Spirit: the Word of God. If you visit mihtary museums, if you go into some famiUes, you will be shown weapons with which decisive battles were fought. The old weapons are preserved. So in God's Church. There are many of the old swords wherewith the evil one was put to flight. There should be some such in each individual's his- tory. If "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy; when I fall I shall arise;" — if "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerers through Him that loved us," are the arms by which you have gained spiritual victories, preserve them in your memory, cherish them affectionately in your hearts, and when the enemy comes in as a flood, lift up these trophies of victory as a standard against him. In England, you may wander from one valley into the other without noticing the transition. The same valley has various local- names. You easily glide from one parish into another, and sometimes from one county to another. Geographically and geologically considered, the vale, is one; but politically, it is many. Local traditions fix the names. The scenery is proba- bly a little different, but essentially the valley is one. Bunyan makes the transition from the Valley of Humiliation to the Valley of the Shadow of Death as suggested by these facts. — ' ' Now, at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the Shadow of Death. It is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus describes it : 'A wilderness; a land of deserts, and of pits; a land of drought, and of the sliadow of death; a land that no man (but a Christian) passed through, and where no man dwelt. ' Now, here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with Appolyon." We must here resort to Bunyan's life to know what he means. Such experiences in his life owe their origin, no doubt : — I. To the greatness of his soul. The ripple of a rill is not to be compared to the waves of the sea; and, therefore, if we have no such turbulent seasons, it is Conflicts. 157 owing to our littleness. Martin Luther, another great rugged soul, had such. God gives great battles to great hearts. 2. To his training under Mr. Gifford. Bunyan, as we have seen, was always visionary. His intui- tional powers were extraordinarily keen. His pastor might have led him with great advantage through a regular and orderly study of the Word of God ; instead of this, he taught him to "attach great importance to sudden impressions, direct gleams of light, touches of isolated words, and phrases, and truths, which would bolt into the mind" without any apparent cause. This had much to do, undoubtedly, with his subsequent spiritual conflict. As you are aware, there are persons who are always feeling of their pulse, taking a diagnosis of their physical con- dition, reading domestic medicine, or consulting a physician. They are never well, but always under the weather. There are also others who are always looking into their hearts and lives, are acquainted with all their spiritual and moral diseases, real or fancied, and they are never robust Christians. For his own comfort, our Author looked too much within. As a rule, the less we inspect ourselves the better. Our hearts are gangrenous. To know too much of them is poison. Let us look to Jesus. 3. To ill-health. This resulted from being put into prison. Howard mentions Bedford jail as the first that caused him to turn his attention to the condition of prisoners. Bunyan calls it a DEN. Howard, in 1789, says, "The men and women felons associate together; their night rooms are two dungeons ; only one court for debtors and felons; no infirmary: no bath." "With no room for air or exercise ; with little space for changing his position ; with hardly a chink for seeing the face of nature, and with, at one time, as many as sixty fellow-Dissenters crammed into a space which could not with common convenience hold more than twenty — to a man, in the thirty-third year of his age, of strong physical constitution, accustomed to great activity, and permitted to pour out his soul in moving appeals and invitations all round the country, such an incarceration, viewed even on the lowest grounds, was no trifling affliction." 158 Lecture XI. In this place he fell into spiritual despondency. The mind was affected thereby, and again reacted upon the body. His breastbone seemed to be broken, and says he, "I was violently seized with such weakness in my outward man, insomuch that I thought I could not live. " " Live!" he cried ; "I must not — die ; I dare not." Here again he thought of the torments of hell, and many other sorrows, and now he says: "I will tell you a very pretty business ; I was once above all the rest in a very sad and low condition for many weeks, at which time also, I being but a young prisoner, and not acquainted with the laws, had this lain much upon my spirit ; that my imprisonment might end at the gallows for aught that I could tell. Now, therefore, Satan laid hard at me, to beat me out of my heart, by suggesting this unto me : 'But how if when you come indeed to die, you should be in this condition ; that is as not to savor the things of God, nor to have any evidence upon your soul for a better state hereafter ?' for, indeed, at that time all the things of God were hid from my soul." We see by this that the fear of Death was the Shadow of Death. We die many deaths in fearing one. The mere fact of physical dissolution did not seem to trouble him so much as the thought of the second death — eternal separation from God and our Lord Jesus Christ. We must die ; we have each done that which by nature ban- ishes us from God and the glory of his face. When afflicted and trained as he, men are too likely to look to the sentence of death in themselves, rather than to Him who said, "I am the resurrection and the life, and he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and be- lieveth in me shall never die." Again I say, let us look to Jesus. This had a moral effect on his mind. I use the word moral to describe the nature and not the character of this effect. In the Allegory he thus describes it: "There was on the right hand a very deep ditch, and on the other a very dangerous Conflicts. 159 quag." In his autobiography he tells us that he was in conse- quence tempted to doubt the being of God and Christ, and also tempted to blaspheme. The ditch, then, is Atheism, the quag guilt. Fear produces such effects. Fear of poverty often results in suicide. Fear of guilt exposed is an inward hell. Fear of fail- ure saps the life of success. Fear of death hastens it. Breth- ren, if God should send such dark seasons into your soul ; wherein you sigh bitterly and know not where your next step will land you ; when your reading of the Bible, instead of bringing you comfort, adds to your torture ; when you think' that all the writers are pointing at you and holding you in de- rision ; when one sentence of Scripture will more afflict you than an army of forty thousand men ; I say, brethren, if God should send you such a trial, think it not strange. A foreigner coming to this country thinks everything strange, money, home- life, business, politics ; and because they are strange he is un- comfortable, and weeps for home. Ye are strangers and pil- grims. This is not your rest ; your citizenship is in heaven, from whence ye look for the Savior. Although storms have been attacking the earth for centuries, and have been great blessings, yet they create fear. We see the gathering clouds ; the dense, black masses of vapor march- ing slowly and grandly ; we see the lightning flash, and hear the distant thunder ; the wind rocks the forest, the heavy drops fall like an advance herald preparing the way for an army, and then we close our shutters, and some creep into the darkest room of the house until it is all over; and when over, we find that it has brought freshness and song and beauty and bread and business. We thank our Father for the storm we dreaded. Have you ever noticed the sun at the close of a cloudless day? He sinks in a chariot of glory too bright to behold, but he leaves no beauty in his train. But the day that has been marked by storms comes to a close, and the sun sinks to his rest. In his dying light he illuminates the clouds and makes the sky gorgeous and grand. So is a life without trials. It leaves behind nothing to admire or love. So is not a life of sor- i6o Lecture XI. row. It leaves a life to love, to admire, to glorify, to inspire with song; to which we rear monuments, suggesting by their whiteness the purity that struggled with evil ; by their direction, whither they have gone ; and by our loving memories, the spirit that moved them. Out of Bunyan's trials from without and from within, came upon the world those conceptions of the way of righteousness which it has learned to love. I must tell you that in this valley he did not know his own voice. The powers of hell breathed worldly thoughts and sug- gestions to his soul, with such skill that he attributed them to himself. The things he would not, he did. I must also tell you that here his sword was unadapted to the conflict. He was obliged to sheathe it and take to the weapon of All Prayer. By this alone he succeeded. There are times when we get no comfort from the Word. God wants us to come to Himself. Did you ever think that the Scriptures may and do keep souls from the highest spiritual communion? What would you think of communion of souls which always has to be carried on by letters ? This is sweet when nothing else can be. But it is not comparable to those moments when with loved ones the communion is personal and complete. Brethren, there is a communion with God, with not even a Bible between either to help or to hinder. And oh ! the bliss, and oh ! the profit of such moments. " Lord, what a change within us one short hour Spent in thy presence will avail to make! Wh;it heavy burdens from our bosoms take! What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower! We kneel, and all around us seem to lower; We rise, and all the distant and the near, Stand forth in sunny outline, brave and clear; We kneel, how weak! we rise, how full of power! Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, Or others — that we are not always strong, That we are ever overborne with care. That we should ever weak or heartless be. Anxious or troubled — when with us in prayer. And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee?" Conflicts. i6i Brethren, in sunshine or in storm — " Pray without ceasing." There are other matters of which I would wilHngly speak. Of the mouth of hell ; of the foul fiends who imitated his voice, and distressed him with the thought that he had blasphemed his Maker because he was tempted to do so in a subtle and powerful manner ; of the comfort he felt in finding a man ahead of him in the valley singing on his way ; of the daylight which broke upon him, and his discerning that though the first part of the valley was dangerous, yet this second part was even more so ; and of the two giants, Pope and Pagan, who sat in a caveat the end of this doleful journey. Not without deep meaning are they here, and therefore I must spend a few moments upon them. Paganism is the religion of the creature without revelation. It is as sensual, as selfish, as cruel, as vain, as human nature Higher it cannot go. Vice is thought virtue. Charity, sympa- thy, gentleness, meekness, and all moral duties are ignored, and treachery, deceit, and guilt are practiced ; with pilgrimages, sacrifices, priests, temples, superadded to expiate guilt and make up for the lack of virtue. Giant Pope represents that powerful system of iniquity called "The Church," which held the world in darkness for centuries, and which is now the declared foe of mental and moral freedom. It is Paganism, under the name and with some of the forms of Christianity. It lowers Christ to man, instead of lifting man to Christ. Both have persecuted New Testament righteousness. It is a noticeable fact that men who have been tried by temptations, and by doubts — men and women who become dis- couraged by their weak, fallible selves — will seek infallibility. Human nature likes religion better than righteousness. It prefers the Church to Christ ; the Fathers to Christ ; the doc- trines to Christ; worship to Christ; Paul even, to Christ. And — 21 1 62 Lecture XI. it is natural that those who are tired with the conflicts that right- eousness imposes, should seek rest. My brethren, seek not rest in Paganism ; it is not there. Giant Pagan sits like a giant to hold you, when you emerge tired and weary with conflict. Seek it not in Rome ; it is not there. Pass both by, as did Christian. They are out of the way. There is One who knows all of your battles, and to your weary souls He says : "Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." LECTURE XII. FAITHFUL. [SVnopsis of Chapter. — Christian having reached the end of the valleys, and safely escaped the giants, pursued his journey. As he did so, he saw, a little ahead of him, his future companion. Faithful. He called, and begged him to halt ; but Faithful would not do that. Christian therefore put to all his strength, and outran him. At this he was so much pleased, that he became incautious and fell. Faithful kindly helped him up. This done, they went on very lovingly together. They had much discourse about the City of Destruction, and their old neighbors, especially Pliable ; and then of Faithful's experiences in the Way of Righteousness. He related how he had met with Wanton ; with Adam the First, and his struggle to get away from him ; of Moses, who beat him severely ; of One who came by with holes in his hands and side, who bade him forbear ; of Discontent and Shame, and of his pleasant journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.] LITERARY critics have much admired the genius of Bunyan in introducing a new character just at this time. He has lately brought the original Pilgrim through such hair-breadth escapes — notably, his fight with Appolyon, and his struggles and dangers in the Valley of the Shadow of Death — that the mind requires that he should be speedily crowned with victory, or else experience relief by some new and more pleasing pic- ture of his career. But as there are many other features in the Christian life which the allegorist has need to portray, it is impossible to bring the story to an end at present ; and as our Christian does not monopolize all the experiences incident to Christian living, and as these experiences are not the same in all Christians, it becomes necessary for him to introduce another traveler. This he does with consummate skill. In the last 1 ICIPKI' \11 ili.iplri, In- 1'. lull the \>>u'c ol .i u\.u\, sinjMU;; m the \'.i11cn\ Im till'., \\c I'. I>ii>ii;;lu lu-tiMv- ir., (he i itmp.mion ol lluisti.m, uhiisi' II, uuf !■. I'.nll\lul riu II I i>mi',mii>n'.lui> lu'>'.in m .1 'U-iics ol icm.ii k.iblc i'\("nls. I'.iitlilul w .r. .ihr.ut ot I hii-.li.m \\ Iumi ( liir.li.iii i.inu- out ol tlu' \.ilK\, 111' '..i\\ tlu' ollui, .mil, i.illiii;; to hini, u'lHU'stril him tt> stop, '.o ill, it \\c iui;;ht I oiiu- lip Willi hiiu l>iit I'.uthlul s.iul, "No; I ,1111 upon ui\ 111*', .lUil the ,i\i'U;;i'i ot hlood is hi'hiiul l\U', " ll> thoui'ht luur.rll uu'..iii' -.o loiij; .is hi' w.is iu>t ;;omi; loiw.iiil 1 U- wouKl t.uiy loi uo oiu- llissinil m.ittcis wim'o hrlwi'vu hull'. ill A\\{.\ (iotl, .r. t'\ri\ in,ius shoiiKl l>f. T.ikt" huu loi AW r\.iinpK' I'u".'. It>i\\,\ul to tlu- ui,iik ol tlu- pii.c ol \ oiii lu;;h v.illiu;; I 00k not l>i'hiuil thi'i"! I'lsi'.ipt' lof thy life! 1,11 1 \ not 111 ,ill tlu- pl.iiu ' riu' soul ihMn,nuls th\' best M\c\\ tuMi ' 1 >o Ui>t l>v' ,iti,iul ol lo\ iup. th\Sl'll ' A'. l',iithlul \\i'>i'l\ iK'vluu'il to h.ilt, i liii'.ti.in w iscK- put (Mit ,ill 111', '.ti v'Ui'tli. ,uul pu".'.v'il l»>i\\.iul I s,»\- wise!)'. 1 lUi'.in it \v.»s w I'..' lot I hiisti.iu [o vlo this, hut lu' ilul it iu .1 triiipn It is rii>ht th.it \\v-slu>uKl t-iuul.Ur tho'.i- \\ho,iiv- hrttn .iiul wisri til, 111 \\v'. l>llt It '.llOuUl 1h' iloiU' 111 U>\A' W'c- sluMlKl put li>lth all i>ui stu-i\!;th. .u\»l kc-op oui i-yi-s open .it thr s.uiu- tiu\c-. In !;«-ttiu!> .ihr.iil ol l'\uthtul, hi- iu-!;lc-i-ti-vl to hci-il his ii-ot, so he tuu\Mi-il ,uul trll Mow lu.iuN ilv> thi-; I I't liiui who thuiki'th lu- st.uuK-th t.iki- lu'i'il K-'-t lu- I, ill W I- l\,i\i- si-i'u \ ouus; l luisti.ins sittini; in Huli'.n\v-ut upon thv-ii rKU-is. .iiul lu-.uil thi'in pioiunnu-r tlu- sonlt-uii- ol v'oiuli-iuii.itiou in h,uil kuuui,»;-v-, W i- h.ui- lu-.uil stu lU-uts loiuli-mu thi'it tutoi s, .luil iii^t tv-rl ,\ ipi.ihn ot v.-onsi.-ii-nv.-i- or lu- .\sh,»n\i-il ot thi-n ii^noi.nur Ol l.itr w t- ha\i- know i\ .1 worthy \uinist<-» voniU-nuioil In- sonu- ol his hiothrc-n in thi^ ministry. n\uvh \om\;;i-i th.in him-M-ll, .u\il t,u loss w isr or li.-.ui\cil. Ih-imuso ihuins'. the kitt- l\-mpi-r.uK-i- Koxw.il ho n-lusoil to put on .\ hUw iiM>vM\. llo h.\s boo»\ .» tc-n\pc-r.u\oi- n\.u\ all his hto. h.»s broui^ht up his l.mnlv on sttiit tompoi.\iuo prii\ciplos, .mil. propi-rly nv.unt.iininj; his »»uinhv>oil. rolnsoil to lu- iliotatovl to b\- thoso \vhi> h,ul l>ooi\ sober .so.uoo .< wook. riiu\ ht^ h.\s h.iil to U-.ivo his I"\\i riiini . i6q (hmili in coiiscciiicmc, .iiul now wluic .uc his .u ciisci s i' Like I hristi.in, tliry \'iiiii|.;l(>i ioiisly smiled; like him, the)' sh.iin< liilh' fflk 111 Ihis iil\', men h.i\c kitcl\' coiKlciniicd ihc ( hiinhcs .uul cler^N' liii hcint; ^;l^ shuv in the t(iii|K'r,nuc work (.iHlionvh in tliis instamH" the coinpkiint was iiiincit'ssai)' and niijnst), l)iil whrii' arc the aicnscis? Thi'y th()Uj.dit thtiusclvt's ahead, and ate lallen. Ilie ('liiiiihes still stand, howevei, and llu (lei;;)' are still |)reac hinj_; tlu- ^hnions (i()S|)el of the ^racc ol Cjod, I))' which alone a drunkard, hkc an\' <»th<'i sinner, can be saved. \\\\\ I'ail hliil ( anie np to hel|) liiin. ' ' Im ct hi 111, it any man ix- overtaken in a laiilt, \<- w Iik h are si>iiiliial I'cstore siu h an one in the spiiit ol meekness, consider- in;^ thyself, li'st thon also he tempted." In this spirit did the one riltMim help the other. I .et lis not ;',l<>i>' in another's I'all, l)ilt let II'. lathei !doi\' that we ic.toie eriin;; Itietllieil Ihis is the history ol theii meetint;. The (hiistiaii ( liiirch, taken as a whole, has lallen into an error whii h, in m\' luimMe o|)inioii, hinders it', iiselnliu-ss. Thi'; p.ii t i( iil.ii eiioi is the .itteinpl to iii.ike all ( hristians alike. We di-sire to m.dsc all .dike in doc trine, worship .md experience. I believe in the unity of the (lninh, but I ;th ol the I loly (ihost; h)veto(iod. '.ell, .md man; and laith in the ^.o^l^s immortality,- .iinl I (.111 li.ive lellow'ship, holy and deli!_;hlliil, with .iii)' m.m, .md llimk iiol ol dilfercnce.s or minor |)oints. Leonardo da Vinci'.s putmeol the Last .Snpper onj^dit to be stndied b\' ( 'hristi:in'; ; it oim'IiI to be the frontispiece ol ,ill our < liiiu h iii.imi.ds. In it t liei e .11 e t vvelve dillennt men, eai h with .1 dillereiit expression on his lace, each in an attitiidi- pciiiliar to himself, revealing that they are as distinct and different in soul as in body, and yet all of them 1 66 Lecture XII. disciples, and even apostles, chosen by the Master, who knew their several idiosyncracies, and who deliberately selected them for His work, notwithstanding. Man cannot tolerate his fellow- disciples. Lord ! give us more of Thy mind. Good men and women are to-day grieving that they have not had the same religious history as others, and infer that they are not Christians because they have not. By the aid of this para- ble, I shall try to disabuse your minds of this folly. Experience is very much a matter of physical temperament, mental bias, local circumstance, and church connection. One star differeth from another in glory. Peter had visions. Paul was caught up into the third heaven. John leaned on the bosom of his Lord ; afterwards fell at His feet as dead, and saw the innumerable multitude before the throne of God. But a sword pierced the heart of the mother of the Lord ; James received his baptism of fire; walked in the way of righteousness, and ended his life without manifesting any extraordinary emotion. But before we show wherein these Pilgrims differed, it is necessary to shew wherein they were the same. There are some things wherein all are alike. These are the things which accom- pany salvation. They were alike in that they both left the City of Destruction. Christian started first, and Faithful soon followed his example. He left that city with the same motives, reasons and purposes. It had been their home from their birth. In it were their prop- erty and friends. Here they had been held by society and pleasure. All Christians are alike in that they have left this world. They are in it, but not of it. Leaving the world means leaving a life of sin. It does not mean having nothing to do with its commercial, domestic, or political affairs. A man who leaves the world, in the Christian sense, is the better poli- tician, merchant, husband, and parent. He renders to Cte.sar the things that are Caesar's, and is different from the rest of men in that he also renders to God the things that are God's. They were alike in seeking to reach the Celestial City. Faithful. 167 To reach eternal safety from a place of threatened ruin, was their mutual purpose. For this each left all he had, and started alone. Their journey had a definite end. It was clear and distinct to their minds. So is it with all Christians. We live not for the present, but future good. For we know that if the earthly house of our tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God — a house not made with hands — eternal in the heavens. We look for a city which hath a foundation, whose builder and maker is God, for here we have no continuing city, but we seek that which is to come. It is of no importance where you find a Christian ; of what denomination, color, age — he is living for an inheritance among the saints in light. How different it is with others. After they have lived for this world, enjoyed its pleasures and honors, at the end of life are bankrupt, with nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. They have lived to a world that has promised all things, but has naught that it can pay. They were alike in seeking the Celestial City in the same way. Both entered the Way of Righteousness through the Wicket Gate. So do all Christians. There are some, however, who are seeking the Celestial City without reference to Christ or right- eousness. They expect to reach heaven by professing religion and joining a church. Religion is not righteousness. A church is not Christ. Some religions are foolish, some unscrip- tural, and others wicked. But the Christian seeks to reach heaven by walking in the way of God's commandments. He leaves his sin to Christ, and commits his life to His direction. Christ is made unto him righteousness. He is made the right- eousness of God in Him. They that keep His commandments shall have right to the tree of life, and shall enter through the ■ gates into the city. Perhaps it will be thought, as they were alike in so many particulars, that they would also be alike in all. Not so. A landscape, essentially the same, is changed according to the standing-point from which it is viewed. Its teaching is as various as men are. A poet will see in it the subject, and draw 1 68 Lecture XII. from it inspiration for song. A painter will see colors, and forms, and hues, and tints, and beauty. A scientist, laws and forces. A farmer, toil, harvest, and riches. An adventurer, money. An engineer, a level for a railroad. The same man will find it changing with his moods. This aside. It will appear different in the gleaming, and in the gloaming; different again in the storm ; in the calm ; in the light of the sun ; in the light of the moon ; -in summer ; in fall ; in winter. So with Christian life. It is not just the same with all men. The essentials are the same, the incidentals various. We will now consider wherein they were unlike. Before Christian reached the Wicket Gate, he fell into the Slough of Despond ; was deluded by Mr. Worldlywiseman, and was threatened with death at the foot of the Thundering Moun- tain. But Faithful escaped the Slough, and had an easy time of it to the Wicket Gate. Some sinners find it easy to find Christ. To Bunyan's credit, be it said, he acknowledged this. When we consider his own sorrowful experiences, his lack of education, and the narrowness of his creed, this admission is remarkable. It would be mysterious, did we not know that Jesus Christ, formed in the heart, makes a man larger than all creeds and as expansive as all truth. Yet he had his trials. He met with one whose name was Wanton. She had a flattering tongue, bewitching looks ; she laid hard at him, and had like to have done him a mischief In other words, he is a type of the Christian who is tempted, and had to resist temptations to licentiousness. The mental struggles of Christian are not his portion. He is assailed through the flesh. I hardly know which are the more difficult to overcome. Samson, who cared not for the Philistines, lost his power, his eyes, his liberty, and eventually his life, through the seductions of Delilah. Joseph found safety only in flight. Strong men have been brought low by her wiles. I should say the richer and more generous the nature, the more liable are we to be tempted in this manner, and the harder is it to resist. Pity Faithful. 169 it is, that she, who was made to be man's helpmeet, should have become the high priestess of iniquity, the one foul blot on Christian civilization ; that she, to whom virtue is everything, and who is nothing without it, should be the chief propagator of vice, the fatal foe of both man and woman ; that she should be a deep ditch wherein are buried, daily and hourly, the virtues of society ; that she, like a blood-thirsty animal, should never be satisfied, but pant continually for the life blood of the soul. Know ye not that the dead are in her house, that her steps take hold on hell, and that those who go unto her never return ? If she should allure and tempt thee, "Let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her path ; for she hath cast down many wounded ; yea, many strong men have been slain by her." At the foot of the hill called Difficulty, he met a very aged man named Adam the First. The old man attempted to turn him out of the way, by promising him an easier life. This is a trial that did not fall to Christian. It is a dramatic representa- tion of the world striving against the spirit. The temptation to live for carnal pleasure, the riches, follies and fashions of the world is generally very strong. There are Christians who began their new life in poverty, and improved their worldly circumstances as soon as they walked in the way of righteousness ; began to be in earnest for their earthly good not until then, but when prosperity came, neglected their spiritual concerns. Instead of putting off the old man, with all his deeds, they married his three daughters, the "Lust of the Flesh ; the Lust of the Eyes; and the Pride of Life." Men do not get away from the powers of this world and world- ly-mindedness without experiencing what Faithful did, "such a twitch back" that he thought the old man had taken- with him a part of the flesh. It is so hard to part with the things of the flesh ; it is very hard for those who have lived for the lower nature to succeed in living for the higher. It is hard to take up the cross daily, and so be Christ's disciple. But if any man will be His disciple he must .do this very thing. — 22 I/O Lecture XII. In going up the hill Difficulty, Christian slept and lost his roll out of his bosom in the harbour, on the side of the hill. But at about this place Faithful looked behind him and saw one coming after him, swift as the wind, who, as soon as he over- took him, knocked him down and left him for dead. The cause of his assault was the secret leaning on the part of Faithful to Adam the First. When Faithful cried for mercy, he said, "I know not how to shew mercy," and with that he knocked him down again. In this way Faithful was made to know that the function of the law is to punish transgressors. It does not dispense mercy. Faithful's sin was of the heart, and not of word or deed. He was inclined to go with the old man, as his promises were fair, and for this, Moses, for that was the name of the man who overtook him, knocked him down. In one sentence Bunyan speaks volumes, and observes that with Moses, it is ' 'but a word and a blow. " If then it be true that God requires truth in the inward parts, if God searcheth the hearts, if He does not look as man looks, on the outward appearance, but on the heart ; if sin is sin in the heart as well as in words and deeds, then, my brethren, are we not all guilty before God ? There is no difference ; we have all sinned and come short of the glory of God. And a little reflection will convince you that sin is sin, whether in the heart or on the tongue. Powder is the same in the mag- azine as in the gun. Murder is only the hate of the heart carried into deed. Stealing is but the covetousness of the heart carried into action. And so I might run the gamut of all the vices. A holy God condemns every sin. His law declares in solemn tones, as it was first proclaimed from the bowers of Eden as a needed warning, and now echoed back by man in his wails and woes, the centuries downward : The soul that sinneth shall die. "He doubtless had made an end of me, but that One came by and bade him forbear," says Faithful. ''Who was it that bade him forbear?" enquires Christian. Faithful, 171 "I did not know him at first, but as he went by I perceived the holes in his hands and his side ; then I concluded that He was our Lord." In this inimitable manner, with one stroke of the pencil, our author draws the picture of our Lord and his office in saving the sinner. You remember that it was some time after Christian was con- demned at Sinai before he lost his burden at the cross. And yet so soon as he looked at the cross his burden rolled off of itself. But Faithful was not long condemned before he saw the Lord and was delivered from the blows of Moses. Please note this : the Lord did not deliver him from the law, but only from its condemnation ; so does Christ save men. He delivers from the curse of the broken law, but "heaven and earth shall pass away, but not one jot or tittle of the law shall fail." There is not one law for the sinner and another for the Christian. It is equally binding on all. Oh blessed, joyful news, that I have to preach. Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. He that believeth not is condemned already, but he that believ- eth has the life, has passed from condemnation to life. He re- alizes that God is love. By faith in God's sacrifice — the Man with the holes in His hands and feet — he is made to know the tender, loving, most merciful heart of His Father, and that there is mercy with Him that He may be feared, and plenteous redemption that he may be sought unto. Saving power pervades nature. Cut the bark of any portion of a tree, and every leaf, and branch, and root, and rootlet, will sympathize and toil till the wound is healed and the scar hidden. Let any one member of the body suffer, and the other members will unite to produce ease. Let a member of the family be sick — it may be but a very young babe — and parents, and brothers, and sisters, will deny themselves rest and comfort till health is restored. Let famines come in China and India ; let war rage in Turkey — and the whole world will feel pain throb- bing through its veins, and will send to the sufferers its life 1/2 Lecture XII. blood in gentle charities till the curse is removed. Let a man have a hundred sheep, and if he lose one, will he not leave the ninety and nine, and seek that which is lost? Let a planet fall, and every other one will grow dizzy, and involuntarily become a partner in its misfortune. No man, and no animal known to man, suffers, but what some one volunteers to be a Good Samari- tan in the case. And shall all nature be full of remedial power — shall the universe throb with sympathy — and God, who is its Author, be denied it? No! a thousand times no! These are but indications that His Spirit fills all in all. Never can that be thought while we have the Man "with holes in His hands and side" held up as He is to the world. When a sinner can see Him to be God's sacrifice for sin, the expression of His un- fathomable love to him, he becomes thoughtless of self, and is lost in an ocean of love. "Oh ! what a load of struggle and distress Falls off before the Cross! The feverish care, The wish that we were other than we are. The sick regrets, the yearnings numberless. The thought, 'this might have been,' so apt to press On the reluctant soul ; even past despair, Past sin itself, — all — all is turned to fair, Ay, to a scheme of ordered happiness, So soon as we love God, or rather know That God loves us ! . . . Accepting the great pledge Of His concern for all our wants and woes, We cease to tremble upon danger's edge; While varying troubles form and burst anew, Safe in a Father's arms we smile as infants do." You will have noticed that the views which these two men had of the Cross — or rather, of the Man who died there — were not the same. No view is saving that does not penetrate the outer form and reach the spirit of everlasting love. And any view is saving that feels the heart of God throbbing with love through Christ and His Cross. Touch the hem of His gar- ment anywhere, and we shall be made perfectly whole. There is a bridge in Austria on which the life and teachings of the Lord are to be found in bas-relief. In the early morning the Faithful. 173 laborers who pass it to the field, look upon the sower sowing the good seed. An hour later the mechanic sees Him at the carpenter's bench. An hour later the merchant see the mer- chant selling his goodly pearls, that he may possess the pearl of great price. Later, as the housewife goes to market, she looks upon the woman putting the leaven into the meal, or sweeping her house in search of the lost piece of money. Shortly after, the nurse-girls and children see Him with infants in His arms. Then when the invalid passes by, he looks on One who is heal- ing all manner of diseases. And when a funeral procession moves slowly by, the mourners for a moment fix their eyes on Him who is raising the dead, and who declares that He is the Resurrection and the Life. What the moral effect is I do not know, but the teaching is that as we are all in different conditions, we need a Savior adap- ted to them, and that Christ is so adapted. My friend, you know the kind of Saviour you need, and what you ought to be saved from. Look to Jesus from what and where you are, to what He is to thee. His power is unlimited. He is able to save to the uttermost all that come to God by Him. Faithful's experience in the Valley of the Shadow of Death was altogether different from Christian's. He had sunshine all the way through. He recognized that Christ was with him in these lonely and dangerous places ; and the sensible presence of Christ turned the darkness to light, and the grief to joy. Still the valley was not altogether uneventful, he met with some who tried to turn him back. He met with Discontent, who told him that the valley was without honor, and to go on would disoblige his friends, besides making a fool of himself. This man made but little impression on him. But he had much harder work with Shame. Shame tried to make him ashamed of being a pilgrim. He objected to religion as a pitiful, low, sneaking business ; called a tender conscience an unmanly thing ; and said it was slavery for a man to watch his words and ways. He also objected that few of the mighty or great were found in the way ; complained 174 Lecture XII. that as a rule Christians were poor, assumed that they were ignorant, and oh ! depth of misfortune ! knew nothing of natural science, and that Christians were unfashionable. He called vices by fine names, and expressed his opinion that it was folly to seek forgiveness or to make restitution for any injury that a man may have done his neighbor. The spirit of this man is with us to-day. He seeks now, as then, to make men ashamed of being Christians. He has great influence with some, and overthrows the faith of others. Now there are some souls (excuse the word) who are always waiting for the fashions. They will wear the ugliest clothing, walk in a crippled habit, contract disgusting vices, defy nature, and de- scend to positive indecency, because it is fashionable. They go to church and through a service (or rather let the service go through them) in which they have no interest, because it is fashionable. They contract debt, and never pay, because it is fashionable. They wear other people's clothing, and are, in short, incarnations of irredeemable promissory notes, because, forsooth, it is fashionable. They object to earnest. Christian work, and risk heaven because it is fashionable. Were ever poor slaves so bound ? Thank God, true Christians are not fashionable. Let us not be ashamed of being out of fashion. Others are politic. The first question they ask about any- thing (and they carry their habit into religion) is, "Will it pay?" and they tell lies, because it pays, and they demean themselves to ruin others, because it pays. And these are the men who try to make Christians ashamed of the life of righteousness. They would be Christians themselves if they thought it politic. But the chief objection to Christians is their "want of under- standing in all natural science. " The assumption that Christians are an ignorant class of men is amusing. Well, perhaps you have noticed that Church-members, and preachers, and professors in colleges, are men of very narrow foreheads, and of an inferior quality of brain behind them. And you will have also noticed — it is patent at a glance — that sceptics and infidels are other- wise. Their foreheads are lofty and broad, and taking a crow's Faithful. 175 view of their heads, we see in a moment that they are built on the latest and most approved style of phrenological architecture. A twinkling of an eye is sufficient to convince one that they are superior men. They understand all the mysteries of the uni- verse ; if they v/ere consulted, could suggest improvements, although it is quite possible they cannot manage their own affairs a week without blundering. But we must not expect great men to attend to little things. Sufficient is it that they are scientists, for do they not read a semi-scientific paper, written in an atheistic vein, in bed every Sunday morning? Are they not sure that Christianity is antiquated, and that a new revela- tion is being made ? Sarcasm aside, it is false to say or to assume that Christians lack understanding in natural science. Some of the ablest leading scientific men of to-day (and it has been so ever since the revived study of the material world) are Christians. I do not know of a solitary instance of a Christian college, of any sect, how- ever small or humble, where natural science is not taught; in the larger colleges and universities "the chairs" are richly endowed. Nor do I know of a land outside of Christendom where natural science is taught as part of public education ; nor am I aware of any of the late remarkable scientific discoveries and inventions occurring in any but Christian lands. But for Christian ministers, churches, and schools, the books which scientists write, the lectures they give, would go begging for buyers and hearers. The world cannot make us ashamed of our scientific record. It is not our business to preach science. But it is scientific to preach the Gospel. Science cannot save men from unright- eousness. The Gospel alone is the power of God unto salva- tion ; wherefore I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. ''What! ashamed of that which in the hands of a few poor individuals obtained more than a conquest over all the colossal antagonism of heathendom, whether that antagonism was royal, priestly, or philosophical ! Ashamed of that which sustained itself for more than a thousand years against the combined forces of barbarism and licentiousness, and in despite of doc- 176 Lecture XII, trinal and ecclesiastical corruptions ! Ashamed of that which braved the fiercer shock, and turned into derision the vaunted enquiry of modern times, philosophical neology, the Anakim of infidelity! Ashamed of that now upheld as it is by a re- splendent array of learning, genius, influence, and achievement, and against such combatants and such artillery as are now in the field ! No, glorious Gospel of the blessed God, we will do thee no such wrong. Thy form has yet the majestic beauty of the skies from which it came. Thy panoply is yet effulgent as when first it was given thee from the armory of God. Sweeter and louder waxes thy voice of mercy and holiness. Every prejudice shall vanish from before thee, and thine enemies shall lick the dust. Beneath thy tread the moral wilderness shall blossom as the rose. Before thy glance the dark habitations of horrid cruelty shall disappear. P^very heart shall throb to thy charm, every clime shall echo to thy praise. Under thy sway all the families of the earth shall be blessed!" We are not ashamed, again we repeat, of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. From Faithful we learn the effect of backsliding upon the backslider. Christian learns from him of our old friend Pliable. When he returned home he was had greatly in derision ; he was rocked and despised. His neighbors said, -'Hang him! He is a turncoat; he was not true to his profession." God stirred up his enemies to hiss at him, and make him a proverb because he forsook the way. Ye that have backslidden, what have you gained ? If you did but know how men despise you, what they say of you, and how they feel about you ! But I can tell you how they feel. They have no more respect for nor confidence in you than you have yourself. They infer that a man, untrue to God, is not likely to be true to them. From Faithful, also we learn the effeci of a Pilgrim keeping on. When Christian started, there was great talk. Many of the neighbors believed him wise and right, and one at least speedily followed him. Afterwards his whole household left that city, and sought a better. Had Christian not started, he Faithful. 177 and they had been lost. Learn this solemn lesson. You have influence and power. You are using them to the ruin or to the salvation of your friends. Oh ! start this very moment, and may God grant wisdom to your neighbors and families to follow you. In Faithful we see the advantage of serving the Lord with gladness. As we read his history, we receive the impression that he is a very cheerful Pilgrim. He is introduced singing ; he had light where Christian had darkness, and escaped many of the afflictions of his companion. Fellow-Pilgrim, learn this important lesson. The clouds that hide the sun rise from the earth. The darkness that makes our pilgrimage gloomy and sorrowful comes from ourselves. Let us look away from self to the Master, always, and then we shall be filled with joy that is unspeakable, and full of glory. Serve the Lord with gladness. Rejoice always, and again I say rejoice, for — "I say to thee, do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet, In lane, highway, or open street — That he, and we, and all men, move Under a canopy of love, As broad as the blue sky above ; That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, And anguish, all are sorrows vain ; That death itself shall not remain : And ere thou leave them, say thou this, Yet one word more : — They only miss The winning of that final bliss — —23 ijS Lecture XII. Wlio will not count it true that love, Blessing, not cursing, rules above. And that in it we live and move. And one thing further make him know, That to believe these things are so. This firm faith never to forego — Despite of all which seems at strife With blessing, and with curses rife — That this is blessing, this is life." LECTURE XIII. FALSE PROFESSORS: TALKATTTE. [Stsopsis of Chaptkr. — The PDgriins met with a man who ^tafesBed to be going to the Celestial City. He tth- the son of Sayvell. and dwelt in PiatiD^ Bow. Hi> name was Talkative, yptwithptanding his fine tongue, whieti he wac always re&fiy to use, he was really a very sorry fellow. '•A saint abroad, and a devil at home," expressed the judgment of his neighbors oonoeming him. Faithful was at first much ts^ken with him. and thoagfat he would make an excellent Pilgrim. But by the advice of Christian, who bad beard of him. he engaged him in serious conversation on the power ot rdigion, which so exposed his hollow pretensions, that he grew angry, and declined their company.] W E HAVE come to that oart of the Pilorims ProCTess in which Bunyan introduces a number of spurious Chris- tians. The first one is the character of whom I am to speak to-night. He gives him the very appropriate name of Talka- tive. But in order to discover defects of any kind in character or in substance, we must first get before our minds an ideal of perfec- tion. There seems to be in man a sense of perfection : moral, intellectual, and physical. Whenever he sees anj-thing that pleases him, that harmonizes with all the conditions of his mind, he pronounces it perfect, and he could not wish an>-thing more should be added to it. If anjirhing more be added he thinks it superfluous, and the article or character will appear overwhelmed with imperfection. This idea has been introduced into theology-, and some have gone so far as to say that everj' man in his own heart possesses i8o Lecture XIII. an ideal Christ. And if you will notice, whenever we read the life of Christ and of the infinite wisdom of that life, we do not judge it by a written law, but by an inner sense of perfection which we all possess, and in which we all agree ; and here is one grand argument for the Divinity of our Lord Jesus. He satis- fies this idea of what we believe the Savior should be ; He is presented to us in this character simply because He is perfect, and, therefore, satisfactory to our souls. And you will notice this also — however weak a man may be, he may be almost idiotic, his intellect may be exceedingly low and his moral perceptions blunted by sin, yet that man pos- sesses an idea of what a Christian should be. He may not be able to read the Word of God to find out what he should be ; but here is another man, a professing Christian, and every defec- tion from Christian life on his part produces a sense of imper- fection in the mind of the former, looking upon it. However degraded he may be, and as I have said, however blunted his moral perceptions, the looker-on will detect the error. Several years ago, as I have been informed, a school of phy- sicians set themselves to work to discover what disease was, and they made a great many observations, but could come to no agreement. At last one, much wiser than the rest, said, "We have begun at the wrong end ; in order to understand disease, we must first of all understand health." They then went to work and made a diagnosis of health, and when they had set up a standard of health, it was very easy to take the next step, and say that every departure from this was disease. So, if you want to make a table of distances you will first take a standard of measurement; if you want to weigh anything, you will take the article and test it by a standard of weights. We learn what imperfection is through this sense of perfec- tion, which we all possess ; and to understand this spurious Chris- tian, Talkative, it is necessary first of all to determine what consti- tutes a true Christian. This idea is set forth clearly in the chapter which I have partially read to you ; to the particular paragraphs of which I need. not refer, but will mention the general char- Talkative. i8i acteristics, that we may have in view a standard of what a real Christian is. We should say, first, that a true Christian possesses a con- viction OF SIN. Sin is that which every Christian is dealing with. It is the great problem which he is trying to solve ; it is the grand obstacle the Christian is trying to overcome. Sin is that which produces in his heart a sense of weakness; sin is that which stands between him and his God ; sin is that which makes him fear he may never reach the happy and holy place ; sin is that which makes man shrink from death, and reel as he dreams of the pains of hell ; sin is the great obstruction of the Christian life, practically and theoretically. But a conviction of sin is a very different thing from the knowledge of it. We may know that sin exists ; we may have an intellectual apprehension that we and others have committed sin ; but to be convicted of it is another thing entirely. I will suppose that some one in our city, last night, went into a store and stole something ; all day long that somebody has been conscious of the fact. But he is not yet convicted ; the law has not touched him, though he is conscious of his act. Suppose, then, that to-night the sheriff goes and puts his hand on his shoulder and a manacle upon his wrist — that man stands at once convicted ; he feels the sin, and not merely knows that he has committed it. Knowledge comes before conviction. The manacle is merely the shadow of a spiritual fact; the sheriff but a shadow of the Divine law, which in him finds a representative for the time being. In his soul the culprit stands convicted the moment the sheriff's hand falls on him. Well, now, a Christian not only knows that he has sinned, but is convicted. He feels that the Divine law has hold of him, and that the Divine law is bringing him to punishment. He feels that he is guilty; not merely knows it — he feels it. Knowl- edge produces conviction, and this increased feeling in the soul concerning sin and the law is conviction. A man may say, and say from knowledge, "I am a miserable sinner;" but a man under conviction, when he comes to God's house, will not merely i8a Lecturk XUl. say, *'l >un .i misiMablo sinner, " hut ho will hani;- his head before hijjh heaxen, not during;' to look to the skies, and out of a broken he;\rt will er>-. ""Ctod be nierciful to me. a sinner!" He- not inotolx h.is .i conviction of sin. but he h.is an auuok- RKNCK OF n\ 1 do not mean to s.i\ , for a moment, that the Christian hin^self does not commit sin. I do not believe 1 ever met with .1 Christiati wlu> did not ; 1 ilo not believe I ever >net with a Christiat\ who had attaitu\l j\KMal pertection. There are words in use in respect to this which are sui^-j^estive. It is son\etin\es said that we believe that, throujjh some pious fiction, we are free frv^m sin. Now, there is no such thinj^^ as a fiction with (.n>d., and a Christian is not a man who does not commit sij\ lU does commit it. As the apostle John sjij^, "If we sa\' we h.i\e no sin. we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." hven John Wesley preachinl the doctrine of sin in be- lievers. There is. however, this ditVeretice in believers and non-believers : the non-believer commits sin and passes it by as of no conscijuence. but a Christian, when he commits sin. hates the sii\ .\nd himself too. He mourns and cries out like D.ivid, •H.uo mercy on me. O (.ivxi. accan,hnj> to Thy lovin|;j kindness, and accordinj; to the multitude of 'Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions." The man who is not a Christian, when he sins, determines to sin agiiin ; but a Christian, if he falls, rises and fij:jhts, and strives that he may not commit it aj^^xin. There is just this ditTerence. too. between a Christian and a Aforalist. or, if you like, a Tharisee: the Christian hates sin, and abhors sin in himself, but a Moralist, or Pharisee, hates and abhors sin in another. 'That is just the ditTeixM\ce between the two. The Christiat\ excuses and is lenient to sin in another, because he knows how sweet is sin, and how hard it is to fij^ht ag-ainst it ; but a Moralist, a man who is so prx^ud before (.nxi that he can cast a reprwich \ipot\ his tellow-beinj;^. hates sin in another, while he encounxges it in his own btxsom. Now, this is not the spirit of Christ. If \*ou remember, there was a poor woman taken in sin. and she got into the hands of a number of that sort of men who abhor sin in others. The\* 'I'ai.kaiivi',. iH^ wcic- .ill st.mdiii;; aioiiiul her, and tli<)U;.;lil llic < (ppoil unity ;i tjood one to put ( hiist to ;i test, lor, atx'oidiu;.; lo llu' iiccd o( IIk'Sc i;cMtli'iiUMi, it was their duty to takr up stoius and litcially poll such a woman to death; and they vvcri' lit;ion; and wv. often he.ir men say, in i;\citenu"nt, how much they c'lijoy relis^ion. Hecanse .some of us have- not passed throuidi the same ex])i'rieiice th.it tliesc have, we arc; not to conihide th.it it is all fii'c and exciti'- ment, and th.it there is nothiiii.; ijenuine in it. My friends, that is not true; reliiMUi is a power in the he.iit, transfoi niiiiL;^ the life. Mow do we know? Just .is we know that wv live and ieel. A man feels pain, yet he c.mnot m.ike an intel lectual .in.ilysis of it, nor prove th.it he is in pain. I'lie next time you are in suffering, try to prove, by some metai)h\sical process that a !oL;ician would acci'pt, that you .ire in \).u\\, and I defy you to do it; you can only slati> the fact. An excess of pain in the body prodiu'es its ellecis upon the f.ice .ind upon tlu' form. Then, at;ain, there is excessive sorrow, not a ph) sical effect at all, but a mental one, yet that affects the ph\'sical beiuL; also, bc-cause the physic. il ;ind s])iritiial senses .ire united. ( )n the other iiand, there is joy in the he.iit, and it lij^hts u|) the features and enlivens the life. riu:n there is the power of love, which transforms everything; to its nature and object. Now, 184 Lecture XIII. what is Christianity ? What is religion ? What is the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ in the soul? It is not a mere theory in the head, but a power in the spirit. I say, what is it? I shall have to repeat myself here, but I do not mind it. It is love. Christianity is love — love to God — love to man. It is necessary to distinguish this from several things. For instance, this love of God must be distinguished from love of doctrines concerning God. A man may really love Christian doctrine; he may love theology; he may love heterodox the- ology, or orthodox theology; he may have a creed which commends itself to his reasoning faculties, to his mind ; it is convincing to him and satisfying, and he may love it very much, and yet he may not love God. For instance, a learned man may love the science of theology ; he may see wonders in it, and yet may not love a fellow-being. All professors of theology are not Christians. We all may love doctrines concerning God, and yet not love Him. Then again, love of man must be distinguished from an ab- stract love of righteousness. There are men and women in this world who say that they do love righteousness so much. They tell us so, and it is a very good thing to love righteousness, but not good to love it for its own sake. There are a great many righteous men who are no good to the church. You can find no fault with them ; they never did any good and never will ; they are in this world just a round naught ; there is nothing loving about them ; nothing fruitful in them ; they are simply nonentities; they do no particular harm, and they do no particular good. Love of man does not mean love of abstract righteousness. I tell you I am rather afraid of men and women who love righteousness, when they love righteous- ness more than man. Then we must distingnish this love of man also from abstract humanity. It is the fashion now-a-days to write God with a little g, and humanity with a big H. Men love Comptism, Sociology, and talk incessantly of the science of humanity ; it is all hu- manity — over and over again, humanity. This love of abstract humanity has done no good in the world that I know of in Talkative. I(S5 the way of ameliorating the vices and sorrows of men. I have yet to see a hospital built by men who love humanity ; I have yet to see an orphan asylum established by these professed lovers of humanity. Many a professor of this humanity passes by the beggar at his own door and fails to wipe away an or- phan's tear in his own city. We are not here to love abstract good, abstract righteousness, or abstract humanity. What, then, does love to God mean ? It means this : Love the man that is next you ; love the man that is here ; put it in scripture language, "Love your neighbor 2lS yourself." But some one will say, "You don't know my neighbor, sir. The men and women around us here in the city are exceedingly low, depraved, very dirty, very drunken, vicious ; I have no objection at all to putting a dollar in the collection for those poor heathen out yonder, to support one man in a million of such; I like that; I like the gospel to fly abroad, and hope it will prevail ; we take the missionary papers ; oh yes, I love the gospel." Who told you to love the gospel? Neither God nor Christ wants you to love the gospel. Christ says, if you see a bleeding man lying on the roadside where you pass along, bind up his wounds and give him what he needs, whether a brother or an enemy. That man is your neighbor, because he needs you, and God has sent you to help him. Let's away with such stuff as loving abstract good, abstract humanity. Love God, and your neighbor as yourself. It is this love, if you remember, which is the fulfillment of the law. Love fulfills the law simply because it is the spirit of the law. Love any one in life, and there is no wrong you can do to that one ; love not, and all vice may creep out of such a condition. But then, a true Christian has not merely this conviction and abhorrence of sin ; he does not merely possess this power of love in the heart, but it issues in a life of practical benevolence. To repeat what James wrote, "Pure religion and undefiled be- fore God and the Father is this : To visit the fatherless and widows —24 1 86 Lecture XIII. in their affliction, and keep oneself unspotted from the world." If the description of the Judgment that our Lord has given be true, we may see the whole thing revealed there. The whole thing depends upon our practical benevolence. If in that great day the Lord shall say to us, "You fed the hungry man, you clothed that ragged child, you visited the sick and afflicted, and attended to the wants of the needy," He will also say, "Come ye blessed of my Father." And I think I know something about this "doing it unto me," for I have had friends in my house of late, and among many things that have come to my house, with the friends, were kind expressions of love ; some little books and little toys for my little ones ; and when those little ones took one thing after another and brought it to me, I felt that I knew some- thing of what the Savior will feel in that day when he shall say, "Inasmuch as ye did it to these, my little ones, ye did it unto me." The needy are God's little ones — all these men and women around us living in sin, and neglected, by whom ? Ah, we know by whom, and they are Christ's little ones. And the whole judgment will turn upon what we have done for them. There is no Christian life apart from this practical benevolence. Do not think you can enter heaven because you have entered the Church. You cannot; it is impossible. Unless you will give up your substance to feed the poor, and take up your cross daily and follow Christ, ye cannot so much as enter the kingdom of heaven ; ye cannot become His disciples. We have now before our minds, in a very brief and imperfect way, an ideal Christian. Let us now look at this man Talka- tive's mistake. He supposed that Christian life consisted in knowing and then talking of religious matters. His whole life was made up of this : hearing of religious things and talking of them. But we know great talkers are not always great doers, and this was the result discovered by the neighbors of this man— that although willing enough always to talk on the subject of religion, it was rather distasteful to him to enter upon its duties. Talkative. ^ 187 Can a man be a talker of religious matters, and at the same time not be a Christian man ? We think he can be. We think that a man may be a theologian, and yet not a Chris- tian. A man may speculate upon the great doctrines of religion ; upon the being of God ; the immortality of the soul ; the future state; the trinity; the unity; the essence of God; "man's free will, foreknowledge absolute" — he may speculate famously on these things, and yet not be a good Christian. Yea, a man may spend twelve or thirteen dollars to get a Bagster's Bible, and may go round with it under his arm, saying, "See my interest in the subject;" he may be able to trace all the references in it from Genesis to Revelation ; be able to repeat chapter after chapter of the Holy Word by heart, and yet not be a Christian. Religious knowledge is not religious life. A man may work miracles, and not be a Christian. A man may be a preacher of the Gospel, and yet not be a Christian. Our dear Lord has said, "Many will say unto me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and in thy name cast out devils, and done many wonderful works? And then will I say. Depart from me, I never knew you." Now, that is fearful to think about, but it is a fact. A man may be a theologian, and a man may work miracles, and a man may preach the Gospel, and yet may not be a Christian. Did not the apostle Paul tremble before the merely supposed fact that he might be in that condition, "Lest by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway?" A man is not a Christian because he is able to preach Christianity. It is ten thousand times easier to preach than to live it. It is life, my brethren, that will tell in the other world. Let us hear Paul again: "Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels (that is, with the eloquence of earth and even heaven), and have not charity (that is, love — this love to God and man of which I have been talking, this power in the heart, and this practical benevolence in the life), yet with all powers of speech, and without that power of love, I am become but sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. Then, though I have the gift of prophecy (of preaching), and understand all mysteries i88 Lecture XIII. (endowed with powerful intellect), and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing ; and though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and give my body to be burned (as a martyr to the truth, to the abstract truth, or to the telling of it), and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." Nothing! You sometimes see a band preparing to play, and you see one man tightening up a drum, pulling the strings here and there, and striking it with a stick. Before the band be- gins he will strike once or twice, just to give the time; there is no music in that. Then a man will take the cymbals on his hands and clap them together, merely to show the others that he is ready; but there is no music in drum and cymbals by themselves. But presently the band starts up, and there is a volume of congruent sound, a filling up of all the parts — the deep-toned bass, the shrill tenor, the mellow alto ; and then the drum gives force and vivacity, and the cymbals lend charm and vigor to the whole. Useless by themselves, they are delightful and grand when mixed with melody. So that talking by itself means nothing; but mixed with good works, with a pure love in the heart of him who speaks, and true adoration for God and service for his fellow-creature, what he says puts power and vigor and life into the music he makes in his journey to the skies. To illustrate this a little further: Cannot a sick man lecture on health? Oh! yes; he may be a thorough invalid, and yet lecture well and profitably on that subject. I notice a man can talk about riches, and at the same time be exceedingly poor ; he can talk about gold, and have none ; he may talk about econom)% and yet not practice it in his own household. A man may talk about things he does not possess. So a man may talk about re- ligion, and yet not have one spark of it in his soul. I believe it is better to have the gold than to talk about it. Is it not? I do n9t know myself, but I think it is. It is very much better to have health than to lecture about it ; much better to be a practi- cal economist than merely theoretical upon the subject ; and it is much better to have the love of God in our souls than to write volumes or preach sermons upon it — much better to serve Talkative. ^ 1 89 man in his need than to have beautiful theories concerning" humanity, the truth of which we can never test. A ver)- interesting question arises here. Who makes such men. and how are such men as Talkative produced ? Let me come to the point at once : I say preachers help to make such men as Talkative, and they do it in this way, by preaching an impracticable religion. We preach so many things that men cannot do. We preach about the m)'steries of the Gospel, and so much upon purely abstract questions. Do, do, do ! So it is all tile way through the New Testament. I preach good works. I sa)' the New Testament insists upon good works. You can- not get to heaven without good works. It is folly to try; you cannot, my friends. "Christ has purified us unto Himself that we might be a peculiar people, zealous of good works," Paul wrote to Titus. "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in the way of righteousness, that the man of God ma)' be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works," he wrote to Timothy. You cannot get away from them — good works. I preach them. I would that I could produce more of them. But here is the mistake : we preach upon remote, ab- stract questions, instead of insisting upon the practical power of Christianity. Let us see how it was in the primitive Church. The apostles preached ; those who had money gave to those who had nothing, and the converts had all things in common. The apostles went about, not merely preaching of the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but healing all manner of diseases, feeding the hungry, giving feet to the lame, raising the dead, and being powerful in all sorts of good works. But then, too, it is not altogether the preacher's fault. Men become "talkative" by often resisting the truth. You are here to-night, my dear friend ; you have been here several Sab- bath evenings since it has been my pleasure to preach these sermons upon the Pilgrim's Progress. You have had warm feelings, which, if followed out faithfully, would have led to your profession of the Lord Jesus Christ. Have you not had ic)0 Lecture XIII. your auty so impressed on yovw niiiul that }'Ou felt it was the right thiiii;- to go and seek out some in need, to help them ? I assume that you have felt thus, yet you have not confessed Christ, you have not rendered that human aid which you felt it your dut\- to give, and wiiat is the result ? .Vctive habits de- \-elop character ; passive impressions harden the heart, and \-ou are here to-night harder than \'ou were at the beginning of these lectures, less inclined to truth, less inclined to good works , and more insensible than you were when I began to preach these discourses. To illustrate: The pln-sician goes about among the sick e\er)- da\- and sees the aspect of suffering until he grows hardened. The undertaker, at a fvuieral, knows he should look solemn, when, perhaps, he does not feel so, and finds it requires some etiort to appear mournful ; but give him a j'ear's practice and training in his duties, and you will find him alwa\-s ready for a funeral. His life becomes hardened to his calling. Even philanthropists; 1 mean Hoard-of-Director Philanthropists, may become hardened to the facts the\- deal with, until what they began from a spirit of love, is carried on in a hard sense of cold dut\-. Thus \ou see the effect oi passi\e impressions. It is onl\- .m actixe life that can save us; a passive life must necessa- ril\- harden us, and here we come to the philosophy of that shrewd sayhig, "gospel-hardened sinners." Howexer. these hardened souls, the calloused subjects of pas- sive impressions, make fine critics. Why, we can all tell how a Christian ought to live ; we can all criticise Christians ; and we can all criticise a sermon. \\"e ma\- not be able to preach one, but we can criticise one. That is frequently done. We might illustrate this topic in many ways ; but enough. The talkative Christian neglects tiie culture of his soul ; neg- lects to work the truth into himself by habit. Let us see how the Master would save us from this talkative condition of reli- gion. He sa>s if an)' man would know the doctrine let him do the will. Christianity is a practical thing; a life of practical benevolence. It must be wrought into the soul. We must go about doing good. If we would.be Christ-like, we must follow Talkative. ^ 191 the Master. liut this Talkative neglects the culture of his soul. For instance, he is quite willing to talk of the mysteric\s and his- tories and the doctrines of religion, and things that have per- plexed him ; but he does it for the sake of discussion, and not for the sake of his soul. That is a mistake. We must use spiritual things as we do food for the body, not simply to enjoy, but to impart strength. We buy and read books and attend lectures for the cultivation of the intellect, but not for that alone, for the object of that cultivation is that we may apply it. So with our aesthetic nature; we look upon things of beauty and bring to our homes bits of music and sweet song; and gaze upon lovely pictures and landscapes to cultivate the sense and refine and heighten the tone of being ; and so in spiritual things. It is a sense of the good we are to get which brings us to church to sing hymns and bow our heads in prayer, relate experiences and read the Bible; we wish to cultivate ourselves, but the thing must not stop here. The Christian does not live to himself; no man does ; nor does he die to himself, let him try as he may. The Christian cultivates his soul that he may save other souls. You cultivate your garden and your farm that they may pro- duce — not for the mere .sake of the cultivation, that would be labor in vain ; and when we cultivate and nothing grows, we feel that our time is lost. You are looking for results. So it is with the Christian ; he lives for Christ, and he dies to win eter- nal life. The doctrine I have been preaching is this : You cannot be saved unless you save others. Without attempting to save others, you are merely like Talkative. LECTURE XIV. VANITY FAIR. [Synopsis of Chapter. — When the Pilorinis had rid themselves of Talkative, and before they entered the town of Vanity, where a jtrreat fair was kept all the year round. Evangelist met them and h this fair. As the Pilf^rims entered it the people were uuicii excited on account of their demeanor, speech, and clotliing. They thon<>:ht them fools, outlandish and crazy. They then o^rew angry, because Christian and Faithful thought lightly of the goods they had for sale. When asked what they would buy, these men replied, '-We buy the trutli." 'i'his produced a riot. Then they made prisoners of the Pilgrims, charged them with being the cause of the riot, and had them before Lord Hategood. who, with a jury and witnesses like-minded with himself, sentenced Faithful to death. After much cruelty, they burned him to ashes at the stake. As Faithful died, the Dreamer saw, standing behind the multitude, a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for him. Thej'^ took him through the clouds, the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.] THIS chapter commences with aiiother iUustration of the doc- trhie on which 1 have so frequcnth' insisted, that God pre- pares men beforehand for the trials on which they are to enter ; and that it is Christian wisdom not to wait until we have sinned before we seek God, but to seek Him before we sin. Preven- tion is better than cure. As I have already said, there is some- thing in the Christian's life very much better than being- forgiven, and that is being approved of God. There is a passage in Scripture which teaches us to be approved of God, but we are apt to forget the truth there taught, and make prayer and faith the all-sufficient offices of Christian duty, to the neglect of right Vanity Fair. • 193 conduct ; we may thus even make God the minister of sin. Some of us have frequently sinned much, that grace might abound. Too many of us fall into this error. Bunyan now brings his Pilgrims into Vanity Fair; but before they enter and are brought in contact with its hostility and perse- cution, they meet their good friend Evangelist, who gives them much good instruction ; tells them to be faithful unto death, and informs them of the manner in which they must pass through this fair, if they would please God and benefit men. This, you see, is the preparation before the trial comes, and teaches us the method of Divine grace, for God gives His grace prospectively — God is always beforehand. He is able not only to lift us up, but to make us stand. He puts on us the whole armor, that we may stand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Vanity Fair is said by critics to be one of the finest pictures in the whole book. It is a representation of the fleshly side of this world. If you like, an incarnation of the carnality abound- ing in the world, by which Christians are all more or less tempted. I do not mean to say, nor will I teach, that this is a fair picture of the entire world in which we dwell, but it is a true picture of the carnal side of it. It is a fine picture, and in order that you may understand it, it is necessary that I should give you a description of what Bun- yan had in his mind when he drew the picture. Practically you know nothing of what he refers to. You may know something from reading, but not from actual experience, of the model in Bunyan's mind of his Vanity P'air. You have your fairs in this country, but generally they are associated with churches. I would not say that they were ever connected with anything like gambling, thimble-rigging, and grab-bags, or, in- deed, anything of that kind; such things would be condemned in saloons, and are therefore not tolerated in churches, and so let us say nothing more about the matter. But you have in this country some very good honest fairs in connection with the churches, for the honest, cheap sale of fancy —25 194 Lecture XI V. articles, which bring in considerable revenue. All those things are pleasant enough to see. You have also your agricultural fairs — by the way, an important means of developing agricultu- ral prosperity. Such fairs are, indeed, very healthful in their present condition, promotive of the spirit of agriculture, in which this country must abound, and in producing a spirit of emulation, move men to do their best. But centuries and centuries ago, when civilization was not quite so extensive as now — in its very dawn — churches were built and dedicated to some patron saint, who took (or rather, was said to take) the church and the community in which it stood under his or her particular control and care. Once a year feasts were held in those communities in honor of their respec- tive saints. In those days, merchants, traveling in caravans, would go the round of these festivals, and offer for sale articles of luxury or necessity, enough to supply the people for a year. The merchants took advantage of the large concourse of people gathered on such occasions, and of the chance of their having accumulated means to supply their wants at the annual fair. But as trade developed and commerce extended, stores, or shops, as they are called in the old country, were established in every village, town, and city, and so the necessity for itinerant mer- chants passed away. Like many others, the institution has survived the occasion which gave it birth, and the feasts or fairs are kept up to this day. They have, however, degenerated from fairs for trade into mere fairs for pleasure ; and the descrip- tion which Bunyan here gives of the old English fair, as it now exists, is actually true. As Bunyan says, there are a number of rows of booths at this fair for the sale of fancy goods. You will also see booths adorned with glittering toys, not merely to tempt the passer-by, but enable the proprietor to get possession of pennies by some sort of trick or artifice. There is very little of honest value offered at such places. As you pass along, you will see, on this side, a quack doctor, who is improving his opportunity to abuse the physicians of the neighborhood, and who offers instead, his own prescription and nostrums as a sure cure for all diseases. On that side is a shooting-gallery. Here is Vanity Fair. 195 ^ p some tawdry show, and over there you hear someone singing a bawdy song. At night all is glitter, but the silver is nothing but tin, and the glittering gold nothing but tinsel. It is, in fact, all vanity, and nothing but vanity. The whole stock at these fairs is often absolutely worthless, and yet they continue. They have become a disastrous source of moral corruption, besides carrying away from the neighborhood where they are held the vainly spent earnings of the people. Acts of Parliament are con- tinually being passed to curtail these institutions. Many such fairs have become illegal in the larger towns and cities of Great Britain. In many places, however, they are still kept up, in order to promote, as is said, the old English spirit; and many a young man, and many a young woman, date their ruin from attending these fairs. If you compare the articles of merchan- dise there, they are mostly lighter than vanity; and so Bunyan takes this institution as a model for his picture of the carnal world. These fairs in England have become so offensive that, in some places, the whole people are crying out against them. Their allurements are a type of the perils which beset the path of a Christian. We are in the world, my brethren, but not of it, and we are continually in danger of being overpowered and ruined by the world. But you may say, is not this strange that we should be in peril from the very circumstances of our existence ? Never- theless, it is so. There is a ship about to cross the ocean. She starts from the shore beset with dangers from the very tide on which she expects to be borne into her destined haven ; the winds on which she depends to make her voyage may be the means of her destruction. Men cannot control the winds or the waves, but with skill and good seamanship they can control the ship in the midst of them. Soul and body are intricately con- nected. There are dangers to the soul arising from the appetites which God has planted in our bodies for their benefit. Nay, by the necessities of our existence here, our souls may be lost. As a ship gains her harbor, often with sails rent, masts swept away, helm gone, and pilot lost, so may a Christian, after the 196 Lecture XIV. buffetings of life, enters heaven in discouragement and distress, and on the very verge of despair. This picture of Banyan's is a fruitful theme for study. I lay it down as a principle, that nothing that is essentially of this world can possibly satisfy the craving of the soul of man. For instance, you can epitomize it all into what is called gold. If you have money you can have much of this world ; you can buy friends as well as houses and lands ; you can draw to your- self pleasures from all quarters. Taking money, then, as the very best thing this world can pro- duce, let us now see how very unsatisfactory it is, and how worthless to the human soul. Mind you, I do not mean to say that you should not get all the money you can honestly, but you should possess your money, and not let your money possess you. Here is all the difference in the world. One man will have gold as he has the fever — that is, it will have him ; and the cure in this case often is severe. He must use his gold or it will abuse him. How vain is money ! Yet we are all trying to get it — all try- ing to save a little. I will suppose you are in need of some one to occupy a place of important trust ; a person is recommended to you. in whose favor it is first remarked that he is very rich, and endowed with all the worldly advantages of culture and pol- ish which riches can bestow. Suppose even that his connections, too, are rich, and hold high social and civil position in conse- quence of their wealth ; and when it is all told as a recommen- dation to your choice, what then ? Why, you ask, but what of his moral character? "O well," perhaps is the reply, "of that there is less to say — young men, you know, will be young men." But that, you answer, is not satisfactory. I want a man that I can trust in matters very important. You say he is very rich ; but that is nothing at all. I want a good character. And when you have found a flaw in the character of the applicant, all the gold of a mine would not fit him for your purpose. So here is an illustration of the vanity of gold ; there is a standard which it can never reach. Vanity Fair. 197 Well, suppose a man comes to your office to-morrow, to bor- row money; what do you enquire? And by the by, I heard a gentleman say, not many weeks ago, that when a person of a particular nationality (I am sorry that nationality was not my own) came to him to borrow, he never asked a question as to his security — the nationality made everything all right. But sup- pose, again, that a man is reputed to be very rich, while at the same time you know that he is immoral and leads a life that ought to be a shame to any man — it may not, indeed, be pub- licly known, but the fact has been privately wafted to your ears — do you not take that fact into consideration before trusting money in his hands ? Do you not require the name and char- acter of honesty before you are satisfied ? Here, then, is still further illustration that gold is not equal to character. It is not. Then think how many men who have been rich grow suddenly poor. Then, again, how many are poor in the midst of their riches. Often a man and wife, after twenty years of increasing wealth, sit down and look back over the course, not merely of increasing wealth, but of increasing trials, until they sigh for that sweet early time when their life began together in a cottage. Their lofty mansion has not brought them happiness, but only increasing care ; and it is a fact, as a general rule, the more gold a man has, the less is he satisfied, for the truth is, God never intended the human soul to be fed on anything so perishable. He never intended that its mighty craving should be satisfied with dust. And when a man is stripped of all the things for which he has toiled his life long, and stands at last a bankrupt before his God and his fellow-man — when character is gone, and gold is gone — which does he feel the loss of more? Which do his friends think the more worthy? In the loss of character, there was a loss of that which gold could never buy ; his condi- tion is pitiable, not for the loss of his gold, but because he has lost his righteousness, and stands worse than poor before heaven and earth. I say, if we compare gold with character, it is utterly worthless; it is vanity of vanity. When men come to die, what do they pride themselves in ? That they leave the world reputed rich 198 Lecture XIV. men ? No ; they know they have to leave all that behind them. Thev cannot carry riches with them ; gold is valueless in the regions whither they go. But if they have laid up treasures in heaven, then they are rich toward God and toward the com- ing kingdom. Then how different is the standard of value in Vanity Fair from that of sober reason. In the fair you will pay for a mere tinsel imitation of a good article more than you would have to pay at an honest shop for the honest gold. Rubbish there will cost you more than the value of a good thing in fair trade. The day after the fair every little boy blows a trumpet, or snaps a flimsy whip, or sports a gilded watch-chain; but in a day or two the trumpets are broken, whips untwisted, and the gilded watch- chains rusted and thrown away. Everybody is disgusted ; worthless baubles have cost more than articles of value would have done at an ordinary jeweller's, for the articles thus bought would have had some intrinsic worth and lasting value, whereas the money expended on the trifles of the fair was utterly thrown away. So with men and women who prefer this world, and this world's pleasures, and this world's goods, to those of eternity. We buy baubles for a passing pleasure, and then throw the toys away. Ah, if we could get the dead to speak, they would tell us where true value lies ; they would tell us that the things of this world are vain compared with those of the higher and better world. These trifles we have but for a moment; but the things that are not seen endure forever. Let us view for a moment the conduct of these pilgrims at this fair. They excited a good deal of astonishment as they passed along, for they were altogether different from the crowd. For instance, there was a great deal of difference in their dress, and in their language, too, for it is said that these men spoke the language of Canaan. They were evidently foreigners and stran- gers — pilgrims, just as all Christians in this world really are. But some one may say, I do not notice that there is so very much difference between church-members and the world. Well, my dear friends, I do not suppose you do. There are many things to be considered at this point. In the first place, church- Vanity Fair. - 199 members are not necessarily Christians ; yet there are some Christians in this world of ours, and in our churches, too, and we cannot help but know them. You know them — do you not? — the moment you see them. They may not make a very loud noise. They may not be very conspicuous in any sense. Yet you see the distinction which Bunyan expresses in this picture, and which may be characterized by the much-used theological phrase, "In the world, but not of it." These men were in the fair, but they were not of the fair. But how can a man be in the world, and not of it? I remember, about five years ago, when I landed at Baltimore, it was on a Sunday morning, and, like a good Christian, I went to church on Sunday morning. I had been taught to go to church on Sunday morning. But I find Christians here do not go to church on Sunday morning; they are so tired. But that aside. I came, a foreigner, to this land. True, I looked like an Ameri- can, and spoke the English language almost as well as an American, and one might think there could be nothing remark- able about such a foreigner as myself on the wharf or in the city of Baltimore. But I remember the first thing I tried to do was to pass a piece of English money, and I brought out a sovereign and gave it to a man, who handed me the change in what was, at that time, to me, most disgusting — a number of dirty bills. My shining, ringing gold, with the head of the queen on it, reduced to that ! I felt my nationality rise against it, and de- manded something better, but could not get it. The spirit of John Bull was in me strong ; I did not like the case at all. Then, I suppose, there was something so peculiar about my dress, though, indeed, I dressed much as I do now. But I got into a street-car, where I knew nothing about the regulations ; knew nothing about making change ; knew nothing about the way Americans do things ; how they get into cars, or how they get out of them. I know there must have been something peculiar about me, for a lady (I believe that is the word to use) burst out laughing when she saw my awkwardness. The driver of the car spoke English, but I could not understand him. I could not understand the preacher whom I heard, though he 200 LlXTURE XIV. spoke English just as I claimed to do ; I could not understand him. The idioms, the allusions, the illustrations, were all per- fectly foreign to me. Of the American people I met that day, none of their habits were familiar. I came further West, and sat down at a table ; but I did not know when or how to begin, for everything was done so differently from my training. For a long time I could not count your money ; I may have been many times duped, I do not know. For a long time I could not "catch the hang" of any of your ways. I made myself conspicuous fre- quently, no doubt, being a stranger. Everybody seemed staring, everybody laughing, for, you see, I was in this country, but not of it — simply a foreigner and a pilgrim. Absolutely there was not very much difference in the mere appearance, but in education of thought and feeling the difference was radical. I remember getting on the cars at Columbus, where a man remarked to me, "Sir, this republican form of government is the best on earth." "No, sir," said I, promptly; "Queen Victoria is the best monarch, and a monarchy the best form of govern- ment. " Well, I do not think so now, but if I had had my way then, I think I should have brought over the Prince of Wales, and made him king of the land. Let me explain further what it is to be in the world, and yet not of it The man who loves righteousness — the righteousness of Jesus Christ — differs from a man who is righteous, only ac- cording to the law of this world, by the whole principle of love. The former, when reviled, reviles not again. He abides by the rule, that "What ye would men should do to you, do ye even so to them." Now, that is a height to which the world, can never rise. The highest righteousness that the law of this world can attain to is this: exact from every man what he owes you, and whoever injures you, injure him again. Everything above that is Divine. Then there is a difference in the language of the Christian from that of the man of the world, just as there is between the language of a poet and a historian ; between the language of a philosopher and of an ignoramus. The ignoramus cannot understand the philosopher. The difference is vast be- tween the Christian and the worldly man. For instance, here is Vanity Fair. ' 201 a man who cannot sing — cannot sing a note — and he goes to the piano, strikes the keys, after studying the score before him ; strikes one and then another note, mechanically ; by calculation he hits each note and chord ; there is no music in his playing. But here is another, who, after having glanced at the same score a moment, will at once give natural expression to what is written, and produce the most exquisite music. And just like the differ- ence between the mechanical performer and the true musician, is that between the worldly man and the Christian. The Chris- tian makes music on his way to the skies. He draws his minstrelsy from heaven, which lifts his soul up into a sphere of peace as he passes through a troubled and antagonistic world. There is the difference. The man of this world says, "Let me live for this world alone ; let me get all the pleasure I can." The young man goes out in the world, crying, "I will get all the pleasures I can ; I will get all the riches I can, and what I get I will keep. " But what says the young Christian? "I will live above these pleasures, and improve my mind and heart. Instead of seeking to gather fame and repute, I will seek rather to gather men to Christ. I will live so as to enlighten men;" and what- ever he acquires, he acquires with the hope of doing good, and when he gets old, if he has much of this world's goods, it is only that he may use them for his Master, to help bring his Master's love to his fellow-men. The Christian does not live for himself. This is not his country. His citizenship is in heaven, from whence also he looks for the coming of his Lord. There is one point in this subject to which I want to call your especial attention. These Pilgrims in Vanity Fair did not talk religion — they lived it. Men saw by their lives that they were sincere and worthy to be followed. If I should give this con- gregation any advice, it would be this: Don't talk religion. It is a very easy thing to do. All you have to do is to buy a de- votional book, commit a few phrases to memory, and let them gush out whenever you have an opportunity. But do not talk ; just live ; do your duty. You, fathers, when you go home to- night, let your children know a father's love. Mothers, bring —26 202 Lecture XIV. your dear ones to a knowledge of the Savior. Live, young man. that God may crown you. Live each so that those who come after you shall you blessed ; that when laid in your coffin those who gather around you shall shed tears that you are gone. Live your life. Let your light shine; be always shining and bright and holy, that men may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. Let us see now how these Pilgrims endured persecution. In the first place it is fashionable to say that Christians themselves have committed a vast deal of persecution. Scientists are con- tinually throwing it in our teeth that Calvin burnt Servetus at the stake. Poor old Calvin — poor old Servitus. That the church did also stop a scientist from proclaiming that the earth rolled round the sun, instead of the sun rolling round the earth, is too true. The Church did really persecute that poor man. Poor man — poorer Church ! But is that all that the Church has done? How strange it is ! The Church has persecuted scien- tists — I wonder that there is one left. Wonderfully strange, is it not ? We have these two remarkable instances against us, and we need not snatch the weapons and render railing for rail- ing, and abuse for abuse, l^ut may I say, that having read somewhat extensively of scientific literature myself, I find this prevalent spirit throughout it, that though Christians nowadays may not be particularly wicked, yet they are all foo/s. Well, we can bear it. You must not suppose that I have anything against science. Christians have persecuted scientists, they say, and they have had hard work to reach their present place in the face of the opposition of the Christian Church. That I do not believe. There are more scientists in the Christian Church and in the Christian world to-day than an\\vhere else on the globe. And where there is no Pible truth, there you will find no science. Well, look at these Christians under persecution. It is the ten- dency of human nature always to persecute, and the lower will always persecute the higher ; ignorance will persecute learning ; weakness will always pick at strength ; light cannot agree with darkness; oil will not mix with water; the Spirit of Christ can- Vanity Fair. • 203 not coniniing^lc with the world ; God and the world are antago- nistic. And here is an argument against a state Church. In some parts of Christendom there are state Churches, and I give it as my conviction that they are a curse. Men are talking about a state Church for America. When that day comes it will be a dark day for this land The true Church and this world are antagonistic; the churches have been so mixing with the world that they have brought to themselves much of the spirit of the world ; and often instead of houses of God being built for sinful men to worship in, we see pretentious edifices erected for the religious comfort and convenience of those who are altogether superior to the ordinary race of men. This is all wrong. So the flesh lustcth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, and the men of the flesh will always, as they have done, perse- cute the men of the spirit. There is nothing that this world, taking the word in its fleshly sense, hates as it does the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. So these men suffered persecution. First of all they put the Pilgrims in a cage. I have never seen a fair without some men taken to the cage for drunkenness. The cage is simply a place of confinement where the culprit's feet are made fast in the stocks, and he is thus exposed to pub- lic ridicule and public torment, for sometimes twenty-four hours. In such a position they can neither stand nor lie down. So these Pilgrims were put in the cage because they condemned the life of Vanity Fair. Faithful was tried for opposing the laws of this world, and for open and avowed hostility to the great fair. The accommoda- ting jury brought him in guilty and worthy of death, and then the persecutors brought him forth, all the while under forms of law, abused him, and at last burned him to ashes at the stake. And thus came l^\tithful to his end. Here we see how a good man dies, and we see an illustration too, of the way the good have been persecuted. The reader of history will see too how the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church, and how over against the spirit of persecu- tion rose higher and higher the spirit of devotion. 204 Lecture XIV. My brethren, if we want to see what the death of a Christian is, we must look here. Study the picture. We see the Hfe fast ebbing away ; the strength failing ; the last struggle, the last groan ; the eye is fixed, the spirit gone — and that we call death. But lift the veil. The Christian has died, and what has become him ? He has gone into God's presence — into the Celestial City ; he has gone into a more perfect condition ; gone from the sight of men into the presence of his Lord. Heaven is not so far away; it is only just across the river, that is all. Only a little higher up, to our Father's house. It is not millions and millions of miles away, but here all around us, influencing us, its inhabitants ministering to us and shaping the means of our salvation. Faithful was taken the nearest way. He had finished his course; he had fought the good fight; he had passed through the pangs of martyrdom, and he proved faithful unto death. There was the glorious dying of a Christian. But what must dying be to that man who has not proved faithful to his Christian profession ? What will it be to him who fails in the hour of temptation — who is a good man until he gets into Vanity Fair, and then turns aside to buy the gilded baubles of its vain merchandise, and, having persuaded himself that he could purchase an enduring monument with this world's gold, at last on his death-bed finds himself a beggar ? What must death be to the man who has once tasted of his Lord's love, and sold that love for thirty pieces of silver, as the traitor- ous Judas did? Ah, when his last hour comes, the feeling of that deed, like the murder of his own soul, will rise to drown him in despair. But the faithful Christian, having passed through all the storms of Hfe and resisted the lures of Vanity Fair, swifter than the wind, than light, than thought, is caught up instantly to meet his Lord, where his Lord has gone to prepare the way. My friends, let us be faithful unto death. It is not he who lives a good life for a little while, but he that endureth to the end that shall be saved. Remember we are not yet out of Vanity Fair. Bear in mind the answer of these Pilgrims, "We Vanity Fair. 205 buy the truth ; we sell it not. " Buy the truth about yourselves ; buy the truth about the world ; buy the truth about God and about Christ ; buy the truth about hell and about heaven ; buy the truth about righteousness and a good life ; buy the truth, accept no gilt; buy the truth, and if an evil life leads to hell, as you dread ruin, flee from that hell. Take the path to heaven, and take the first step to-night ; repent of your sins, believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. Get the Spirit of your Master, who went about doing good. Love God and love your fellow-men, and be faithful to this love even unto death. LECTURE XV. THE HILL LUCRE. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Christian set out alone from Vanity Fair. His influ- ence and that of Faithful had been so powerful that many were inclined to go with him. One, named Hopeful, was true to his desires, and became Christian's companion. They had not gone far before they feU in with Mr. By-ends, of the town of Fairspeech, and, shortly afterwards, with Mr. Hold- the-world, Mr. Save-all, and Mr. Money -love. As these men made gold their god, and were willing to go to the Celestial City "in silver slippers" only, the companionship soon ended. The Pilgrims were tempted out of the way by one Demas, who owned a silver-mine in the hill Lucre. By him they were invited to turn aside, and dig for treasure. They resisted ; but when By-ends and his friends came up, they greedily accepted. As the mine was dangerous, and had previously destroyed many, they were lost, and by the Dreamer seen no more. Christian and Hopeful then came to a pillar some- what in the form of a woman, and read on her forehead the solemn words, "Remember Lot's wife."] THE central idea of this Lecture finds its expression in the hill Lucre, in which was a silver-mine, to which the Chris- tians were tempted to turn, that they might find treasure. All that precedes that scene belongs to it, as well as all that follows it ; and it will be a very interesting study, I think, to see the kind of men who resisted the temptation, and the quality of those who succumbed to it. We shall also be able to see, possi- bly, the worldly result of such a temptation as that which Demas held out to the Pilgrims. There is something else in the Lec- ture, notwithstanding. We have here the introduction of a new character, called by our Author, Hopeful. Faithful has ended The Hill Lucre, • 207 his life by martyrdom in Vanity Fair, and has taken the short road to the Celestial City. This Hopeful is a Pilgrim, who has come from Vanity Fair. Here is one thing that we must pay particular attention to : he was instructed ; in fact, he was per- suaded to go on a pilgrimage by the manner of life and spirit of the men whom he saw in Vanity Fair. This is something that we may talk about for a moment. Last Sunday night I gave you this advice : do not talk reli- gion. If you have any, let it be felt ; if you have any, it will take care of itself. You know, when the sun shines in spring, it produces all manner of flowers. It clothes all nature with beauty. It speaks with no voice, and makes no sound ; but the light of the sun, with all that is genial and blessed in it, moves in silence, and earth feels it and responds. So let it be with our religion. Certainly that is the religion of Christ when He says, "Let thy light so shine that men may see thy good works, and glorify thy Father which is in heaven." Just live the life, and let the influence of its light emanate from you. Then we are taught also the influence of a good man's death ; not merely of a good man's life, but of his death. Faithful perished in Vanity Fair, and Hopeful aro^e to be the companion of our original Pilgrim. He tells Christian that there are many other men of Vanity Fair of a like mind with himself, persuaded by the death of Faithful to go on a pilgrimage. We see the illustration of this effect nearly every day of our lives. The death of one is the life of many. All the life we know anything about in this world of ours is based upon death. Things have to die in order to keep the living alive. If we go to history, it has passed into an axiom now (a proverb which no one will gainsay, I suppose), that "the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the Church." And now, frequently, the good pas- tor has to die before the congregation is converted. The mother dies, and then the children determine to follow her to heaven. The father dies, and then his sons and daughters make the same resolution. The Sunday-school teacher dies, and then the scholars determine to follow him to the higher and better world. I know it was so in my own case, and I think it is true in life 2o8 Lecture XV. generally, that men think seriously of religion when a good man dies ; and so the death of one, in that way, becomes the life of many. But Bunyan may mean still another thing. He may intend to show the influence, at different times and at different points in the Christian's journey, of different Christian graces. Faithful, for instance, exhibited the grace of faith, fortitude, obedience, firmness. He was faithful unto death against all the bitterness of opposition. Now we have Hopeful, in whom, probably, the presence of faith was not quite so prominent as in his stronger companion, but in whom the beautiful gift of hope bloomed into life immortal. And here we have something that is perfectly true to life and character. We find a Christian at one period of his life exhibiting a particular grace — perhaps that of patience ; at another time, he may show forth the virtue of hope ; and, under other circumstances, still a different grace, until, one after another, the whole round of graces, succeeding to view, cul- minate in him, and he stands forth at last like his Master, an embodiment of love. Just as the pure light contains all color, while itself has none, so a Christian life contains all the graces, combined so equally that, like light, it is not valued till lost. This accords with Scripture: "He giveth grace for grace; He giveth grace according to our need." Sometimes we need that of fortitude, and sometimes that of hope ; sometimes we need one, and sometimes another. It depends upon the condition of our pilgrimage as to the kind of grace the Christian will exhibit to the world. Now to return to what we said before about the influence of Christian life. Remember that the only Bible the worldly man reads is the Christian man. Generally the only Bible the church-member reads is the pastor of his church ; and gener- ally the only Bible a worldly man reads is a Christian life. This is as it should be. ' 'Ye are our epistles (Paul might have said, 'Ye are our Bibles'), read and known of all men. " Our Christian example may do our Master's cause harm, or help on His blessed kingdom. The Hill Lucre. • 209 These Pilgrims journeyed together in a very happy condition, meeting with others upon the road, and with incidents of which we need not speak, until they came to the blessed plain called the Plain of Ease. As travelers in a desert, who, after having toiled under a scorching sun all day, come at eventide to an oasis or well of water, shaded by palm-trees, and there find refreshment and take their ease, so Christians, now and then in their experience, come to particular spots that seem perfectly easy and perfectly delightful. They, too, find just such sweet places of rest. They meet with much trouble ; much that goes against the flesh, and are weary and thirsty walking over paths scorched and dry, till sometimes they wonder whether, after all, it is worth the while to lead a Christian life, instead of going aside after carnal things, and obeying the maxims of the world ; and just then they come upon some little blessed spot like this, in which they tempt themselves to turn from the way and take their ease. I say, there are such seasons in the Christian's life, as every Chris- tian will testify. And there is danger in these seasons. We are apt to suppose, too often, that the danger in Christian life arises from persecution and trial ; but those periods are not nearly so dangerous — because they are not nearly so deceptive — as these periods of delusive peace, by Bunyan so fitly described as the "delicate plain called Ease." When there is a calm upon the sea, there is much more danger to the ship than when there is a storm. The ship can outride the storm, but the question is, can she outlive the calm ? When there is a great calm in busi- ness ; when a man and his clerks have to fold their arms and sit down all day long, waiting for a customer, and, when the customer comes, use all their arts not to let him go — I tell you, there is a great deal of danger in that condition. Bankruptcy seems to be the end of that. But when all are exceedingly busy — :all have something to do — the danger is not so threaten- ing as in a time of ease. There is peculiar danger, then, in these restful seasons of Christian life. Let us now consider how well-timed were the —27 210 Lecture XV. temptations that assailed these Pilgrims at this part of their journey. Just as they began to feel happy in the sense of rest — in that blissful frame of mind — they came to a hill called Lucre. A hill, you will notice, described as a little out of the way — a point I wish you to be particular in observing. Just a little out of the way, Bunyan says, there was a silver-mine, and Demas was standing just a little out of the way, inviting them to ap- proach this silver-mine, and dig for treasure. How well-timed was all this! They had tasted the delights of ease, and were now tempted to turn aside, only just a little out of the way, and easily make themselves rich. Satan is never behindhand. When our Lord was hungry, it was then the tempter bade him command the stones to be made bread ; and when the woman saw the fruit was of a kind to be desired to make one wise, it was then the serpent insinuated that the day she ate thereof she should not die ; and when God had struck Job till nothing was left but his wife and his sores, it was then the wife said to him, "Curse God and die ;" when, if ever a man [could have cursed, it was then. Tli^ temptation came so well-timed that I wonder the good man had power to resist it. Just mind this, then, if you please, that temptation to sin will assail you at the very moment of your greatest liability to yield. It is when you are hungry that you will be tempted to make bread in an unlawful way ; when you want to be wise, some snare will waylay you ; and when you feel yourself strip- ped of all you hold most dear, Satan will urge you to deny God. The temptation of Demas amounts to this: to go a little out of the way of righteousness for silver — to sacrifice righteous- ness for money. That is putting it in plain language ; and is just what Bunyan meant. It is an old temptation, but it is also a new one. It is as old as the time when man first weighed his piece of silver, and it is with us fresh and new to day. Men have been tempted, and have succumbed ; and men are still tempted, and still succumb to the temptation of Demas — to go a little out of the way of righteousness, and sacrifice conscience and right for riches. Do you ask for examples ? Go into poli- The Hill Lucre. ♦ 211 tics — -not that I believe there is more corruption in poHtical Hfe than in any other, but I go there because when instances of the sort I refer to occur, they acquire public notoriety, and you are all more or less acquainted with them. In the history of this, and every other country, there have been men who pro- fessed godliness while they sold their country to a party; men, too, there have been of this sort who have sold their country to a corporation ; there have been men who, after taking upon themselves the duty of protecting their country, sold it for a few pieces of silver, into the hands of its enemies : as Judas sold his Lord, in the hope of being made rich ; so they have sold their trust for the love of filthy lucre. Go again into business life, and there you will find much of what I refer to ; not more there than anywhere else, but it exists, and this temptation is very great there. I go into a number of houses in the course of my family visitations — not that I am a great family visitor, I am not — but I do go into houses some- times, and I hear people say, "You know, Mr. N., it does not do to send children to the store ; you had better go yourself, for they will put anything into the hands of a child, and don't serve children as they do adults." Now, is it right to give a child ten cents' worth less than to a man or woman ? When a man does that, it is not merely ten cents' worth of crime he is committing, but he is incurring the weight of the whole moral law. It is the unrighteousness in the deed that tells — and that is, a man has gone a little out of the way of righteousness for silver. The silver may be only ten cents' worth, yet for that the man has robbed himself of character and the sense of a good conscience, by taking advantage of a little child. There is another way in which the thing is done ; one busi- ness-man will give you to understand that it is not perfectly safe to trade with another business-man. While he probably will not say a single word, he will arch his eyebrows, and shut his mouth, and shrug his shoulders ; you know a man can be slan- dered by an arched eyebrow just as he can by the tongue. He don't speak openly, but he gives the impression that you had better be careful of that man, for he will overreach you if he 212 Lecture XV. possibly can. Then some men do tell lies in business. It has passed into a proverb that business is business; and men say, everything is fair in war, in love, and in business. I wish I could alter that proverb, and say, business is righteousness. Business should be righteousness, and if a religious man, a member of the church, professor of godliness, does these things, that man is then just what Mr. By-ends describes himself — ma- king a stalking-horse of religion to get through the world with. Men make a cloak of religion, and think to cover their acts, and conscience dies ; but God will judge them for the deeds done in the body. But then this disposition is not confined to business; it goes into the pulpit — it does, really. Bunyan tells us of Mr. Two- tongues, who, in order to please his people, says one thing and lives another. Then, again, the whole argument of Mr. By- ends, and Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Hold-the-world, amounts to this : That a man who is a preacher may alter his principles in order to please the people, if they require it. Some pressure is made upon the preacher, and he is expected to keep back a truth which his people may not very well like, under the threat that he cannot otherwise get a living among them. On the other hand, there are preachers who claim that they have out- grown the churches to which they minister, and that they can no longer, consistently with their consciences and advanced thought, preach the form of theology upon which those churches are based ; yet because they get a good salary will still stand there, a living pulpit-lie — nothing more or less. Out upon such ! It is wickedness in high places; and if men don't despise such false prophets, they ought to do so. A just God will judge them. If a man has outgrown his church, let him get out of it; let him put on a coat that will fit him, and no longer stalk about in a borrowed garb, not his own. We want more honesty ; we want more men like John Bunyan ; we may not agree with all he has said or done, but we must admire the honesty of the man. I cannot understand how a man can stand up, for instance, in a Methodist pulpit to preach Univer- salism, instead of getting out of it into a Universalist pulpit. I can- The Hill Lucre. . 2l not understand how a man can profess Trinitarianism, and yet stand in a Unitarian church and deny it. The world is wide ; God will take care of His truth, and He will take care of an honest man, anywhere. Well, we must hasten on. Let us now look at the applica- tion of this lesson to the general immorality of the world. "Look, for instance, at immoral literature ; there is money in it — yes, there is money in immoral literature. I remember going into a large stationery store — not in this city, I am happy to say — and I found on a table there a large collection of immoral books. I saw a young man come into that store and buy one of those books — such as I pray God you young men and women may never see or know. I said to the clerk, "Do you sell that sort of literature?" "Yes," said he — "Anything you want?" "Oh! no, I thank you, I am not here to buy, I merely ask for information. Is the proprietor in?" "He will be soon." "Is he a member of a church?" "Oh! yes, sir, he is a member of a church, and superintendent of the Sunday- school." "Indeed! And sells that kind of literature ?" 'Yes, sir." "Why?" "There is more profit on that sort of book than on anything we sell, sir. Buckle's "Civilization," Gib- bons' "DecHne and Fall," "Shakspeare?" — Well, sir, we sell twenty dollars' worth of that reading where we sell five of the standard sort." "And a superintendent of a Sunday-school is selling that sort of stuff?" "Oh! yes." Now is not that shameful ? Yet if I have the right of it, I am told that one of the most immoral manufacturers of this country is sustained by professing Christians. I am told that a firm of professing Chris- tians are employed in the manufacture of burglar's tools. I say, is not all this shameful ? It is making a stalking-horse of reli- gion to get through the world on. That, as Bunyan describes it, is rowing one way, and looking another. Again, we hear of the Blue Ribbon movement against the great liquor interest, and they give us figures upon figures to show the crime and immorality it creates. There is much of it. The subject is discussed in all manner of forms and shapes, as respects the saloon-keeper, the brewer, and the distiller. Do 214 Lecture XV. you think the saloon-keeper really means to make drunkards ? Do you think he designs to increase the tide of vice in this or any other city? Why, there is not one who has such an idea in his head. Well, if you go back to the brewer, does he intend to increase the immorality of the country ? No. Go the distiller — he thinks of nothing of the kind. Go to the Christian merchant who deals in the corn which he knows is going to be employed in this way — has he any intention of increasing the prevailing immorality? Oh, no; certainly not. Where, then, is the secret of the evil that is done? Ah, the good old Book tells us : "The love of money is the root of all evil." The saloon-keeper goes into the business because there is money in it ; the brewer goes into it because there is money in it ; and the corn-dealer goes into it because there is money in it. I do not know so much of this country, but I know something of the country from which I came, and I know that there, some of the principal brewers are prominent members of Christian churches. I know some- thing of their zeal in support of church work in the city of London. I know some of them have written pious and devo- tional books, and are personally considered most estimable men ; at the same time, I know their love of money is such that they love it more than they love men. But we must leave them to God; we cannot judge them. We must not attempt to do it; to a man's own Master must he stand or fall. We must bespeak charity for all men ; only I do say this, that the tendency there manifest is clearly this, to go a little out of the way of righteous- ness for the sake of the silver that may be found in the hill called Lucre. I said I did not know so much about this country, yet since I have been here, I have learned a little that I did not know before. When I first arrived, comparing this country, in the light of this chapter which we are now considering, with the land where it was written, I thought there could be no such tendency to make religion a stalking-horse here as I had seen there. There, if you were to go into the churches on a Sabbath, you would see many a man who went to church simply to get customers ; but I could not think any one would do it here. The Hill Lucre. - 215 Yet I learned that, in the first city where I was a pastor, a man came to my church who had just come to the place to begin business; and, after he had been there two weeks, a gentleman called upon him, and said he, "Look here; I want to say to you that if you want to succeed in business in this town, you had better join such-and-such a church." I remember in the last place where I preached, a gentleman, coming to the village to establish a dry-goods business, also came to our church, and seeing that we had already two dry-goods men in the congrega- tion, went off till he found one where they had none, and there he afterwards attended. I have heard since I have been in this city that a gentleman — a dentist — came to this church a short time, and went away again ; and when asked the reason of his change, said, "They have too many teeth there." I did not suppose men would do it. I did not think that in this country, where men are so much more independent, and where society is not burdened with so many old institutions, such events could occur. But after all, human nature is much the same every- where, and if men can get money by religion, they are apt to think they may as well get it that way as any other. Many have sold their Lord, many have parted with a good conscience, for the sake of a good purse. Let us look a moment at the person of a man who succumbed to the temptation — By-ends. He said, if you remember, that he was for religion in good weather ; he did not believe in going against wind and tide. He was not a man of principles, but a man of fancies ; a man who was most zealous of religion if only she went in silver slippers (you see the figure) — if there was only something to be got by it — most zealous for religion when she went in silver slippers. There are some men in the world who have no principle. It is said that the highest form of ani- mal life is that which results in the vertebrate ; that is, backbone. A good subject to think about, particularly in these days. Those animals that have not backbone are like mere animated pieces of mush ; and there are some men who have not yet risen to the condition of backbone, and who are nothing but anima- ted mush. Do anything you like with them, shape them after 2i6 'Lecture XV. any fancy, they will do whatever pays the best, and risk their very soul for filthy lucre. They persuade themselves that it is wisdom, and they reason that they have the Bible on their side. These men would neither die for themselves, nor for other per- sons ; nor would they live to .save their souls, or to save anything for their fellow-men. They make the centre of life themselves ; they move the earth to contribute to themselves, and they pros- titute the treasures of heaven to same purpose. They make themselves rich in things temporal, while they arc starving in things eternal. Well, these men came up in view of Demas, who invited them to a hill called Lucre. It was an exceedingly dangerous place, as Bunyan describes it ; and of those who yielded to the temptation and obeyed the invitation, he says they were never seen any more. What became of them, we do not know. Not seeing them any more, afforded Bunyan an opportunity to im- press the fact upon the minds of the survivors, and so he brings them to a view of something exceedingly startling, which was a statue, apparently in the form of a woman ; and they lifted their eyes to it and saw some hieroglyphics upon it, which they could not at first decipher, but finally read upon the woman's salted brow the words, "Remember Lot's wife." This, you know, is the only text from the Old Testament taken by our Lord, who bade His disciples in all time to remember Lot's wife. Let us try and recall her for a moment. She was a woman who lived in Sodom, in the full enjoyment of all its pleasures. Sodom was threatened with destruction, she was warned b}' an angel to llee from the city, and with her husband at her side she set out on a flight for safety ; but when she was nearly across the plain, near the little city of Zoar. she turned around to look back towards the spot where her treasures and pleasures were — and the pitiless hell pelted her to death, and crusted her with its salted fire. Where she turned to look back there she stood, dead, a monument for all time to all those who look back from a spiritual life to a carnal one. The Hill Lucre. « 217 I have read in some Commentator that Josephus says this pillar still remains ; while from other works I learn that there is nothing standing there resembling it but the stones into which the story has been read. And some do say that one of them was the pillar into which Lot's wife was changed. Be that as it may, the monument may not stand on the shore of the Dead sea, but it stands where it can never crumble away — in God's word — a great lesson in history, written for our learning, in the Internal Word of God. God has petrified the woman who looked back from a flight to save her soul. In crossing the ocean, as you draw near the shore you will find huge rocks looming from the sea, on which stand light- houses. What does that mean ? It means that some time or other a party of human beings, on a voyage of profit or pleas- ure, struck upon the rocks in the darkness, and went down to death ; and to save others from a similar fate, at each of those places where such a catastrophe has occurred, a light-house has been built to mark the danger. Those light-houses are the true monuments of those who have perished, and when through the awful night of storm a gleam is caught from those beacons, the mariner knows he is in a region of peril, and in haste turns his ship in another direction, to save himself and his charge. So it is with the Christian. He knows from the statue in the Word of God, with the awful inscription upon it, the fate of one who looked back when she was in the act of saving her life, and where she stood to look back, there she died. He heeds the lesson of our Lord, and "remembers Lot's wife." Gold is a good thing. Riches are good. It is our duty to get as much as we possibly can — to be as rich as we can in this world, because it is better for a good man to have gold than for a bad one. But the evil is in going out of the way of righteousness to get it ; the evil is in doing injury to another to get it; sacrificing our conscience in the strife for it ; bank- rupting our souls for its sake. There is the danger. And after all, suppose we have accumulated all we can, until we fancy we have enough to satisfy, and we say to our soul : "Soul, thou —28 2i8 Lecture XV. hast many goods, I will pull down these barns and I will build greater, for I have not wherewithal to bestow my goods. Soul, take thine ease; eat, drink, and be merry." Yet, at last, within us will arise a voice, pealing from the inmost depths — Thou fool ! thou fool ; a voice at which the dead will shud- der in their hollow sepulchres ; the dying with their last breath will echo it ; the life just beginning to live will whisper it ; all nature will thunder it, reverberating throughout earth's remotest hills and caverns ; the still, small voice will arise in might, and gathering strength like a whisper in a microphone, burst like the shriek of a giant : Thou fool ! this night thy soul shall be required of thee — thy soul ! and then whose will be the things with which thou hast promised to entertain that soul forever ? Men are kept out of heaven, not so much by their sins, as by their loving earth. Some men have to be converted twenty or forty times before they are decent. Other men have to be- come bankrupt before they are Christians ; have their homes broken up, their children, wife, and friends stolen away and laid in the grave, before they come to think seriously 'of that world where there is no death, and where there is no sorrow. The whole thing comes to this : Will you have a good con- science, or not ? Keep a good conscience ; it is the voice of God. Do not smother it ; let it speak. It is the personal revelation of the Almighty to you. It is the whisper of heaven to guide your life. Do not sell conscience ! it is the spirit of your Saviour ; the Spirit of your Lord within you. Every time it warns you, hearken to its wisdom, for it may save your soul. "Remember Lot's wife." While in the very act of being saved, she looked back to sinful Sodom ; her heart went after her per- ishing treasures ; and she perished because she loved them, and and not the things that are substantial and spiritual, eternal and abiding. LECTURE XVI. DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR. [Synopsis of Chapter. — Their path lay alongside a beautiful river. Here the Pilgrims walked with great delight. From it they wandered into By-path Meadow. Et appeared to run parallel with their way, but, as they afterwards sorrowfully discovered, it diverged slightly at every step, and so before they were aware, they had gone far astray. Night came on ; in the darkness they attempted to retrace their steps, but failed. Worn and weary, they lay down to rest. In the morning Giant Despair saw them asleep in his grounds. He, therefore, made them his prisoners, and cast them into the dungeon of Doubting Castle, where they were kept a week without light or food. The giant frequently beat them, and often m'ged them to make an end of them- selves. At the end of the week they began to pray, and then Christian remembered that he had a key in his bosom which would unlock any of the doors in Doubting Castle. They applied it to the door of the dungeon ; it opened, and then to the outer doors and gates of the prison. They all flew open, and so they made their escape.] BUNYAN now brings his Pilgrims through a new experience ; the experience of doubt. The just Hve by faith. We live a life of faith upon the Son of God. We do not seek things that are seen, but things that are not seen. We embrace the promises of God, the pleasures and blessings of the life of a Christian, by the exercise of faith. This being the case, doubt is frequently exceedingly lively, and always extremely liable. The state of faith always supposes the opposite state of doubt, and what we find to-day, or might infer from known facts, is a marked truth in Christian history. Throughout the history of the Christian Church, there have 220 Lecture XVI. been men who doubted the doctrines which were commonly received among us, and have expressed their doubts to the world. We are all apt to suppose that the things which take place to-day, if bad, are worse than any that ever before occurred ; if they are exceedingly good, and we are pleased with them, we think nothing so worthy has ever appeared before. There are a great many Christian men and women who, seeing the preva- lence of scepticism to-day, do say that it is a worse form of doubt than has ever before existed on the earth. Well, I do not believe them ; I have an honest doubt about that. I believe that the questioning that exists in the world to-day is more honest, more intellectual, and of a much better kind iit its fibre and in its intention, than any kind of doubt that the world has ever before known. I do not believe that the things of to-day are worse than they have ever been ; I think they are better. Good men are better than they used to be, and bad men are better than they were. The world is progressing, and men are better and have truer conceptions of good. Nevertheless, we have a more imposing form of scepticism to-day. Doubt is more popular than it was, and there seems to be a kind of aristocracy of doubt — if I may use such a term — which gives it a pretense of a little more than really belongs to it. We begin to gauge a man's brain by his capacity for doubt- ing; and it is looked upon as hardly an evidence of sanity or strength of intellectual fibre to believe the ordinary, simple facts of Christ's life, or the doctrines of religion. The most extraordinary thing in the world — and, I think, the most sublimely ridiculous — is a doubter's smile. After he has been talking with you, and discovers that he cannot convince you that what he thinks is right, the sublime manner in which he will smile upon you, the extreme pity with which he will regard you (as if he felt that he ought to be a missionary to bring you into larger sympathy with the views of more advanced thinkers) — I may say it would be quite sublime, if it were not sometimes a little too ridiculous. There are three kinds of doubt, it appears to me, in the world to-day. Doubting Castle. « 221 There is, first, Philosophical doubt pertaining to the doctrines of religion. There are a number of men — and some of them of the very finest intellects in the world — who belong to this class of doubters. They are sceptical concerning the funda- mentals of all religon. They do not take the Christian religion into court any more than any other, but arraign them all. Hence, they call in question the very being of God. Then they will doubt the immortality of the soul, and with that, also, the future of rewards and punishments. Not merely do they doubt, but some also deny; and they give reasons for their doubts and for their denials. We have a great deal of this form of doubt abroad, and it is formidable in proportion to its honesty. Then we have Rationalistic doubt. The difference between the Rationalist and the Orthodox thinker is this : Both agree, I think, in receiving the Bible as the Word of God, but the Ortho- dox will say every word written therein is the word of God. The Rationalist says, on the other hand, these writings of man contain the word of God, and he makes it his business to go through the Word, separating the wheat from the chaff, and what he calls the word of God from the word of man — the mind of God, if you will, from the mind of man. Then he will take all the good that there may be in other religions, and bring it together into a systematized form of theology, conforming all to his faith ; and whatever there may be in the Christian religion that does not suit his reason, he will cast aside as being unwar- ranted to his faith. It is simply the exercise — I think, frequently the undue exercise — of reason, sometimes at the expense of faith. Still, we have it in the world, and I think it is doing the Church of God very, much good service. It has its faults, while at the same time it is doing a vast amount of good. We want a great deal of Rationalism ; we want to be rational in our faith and religion, too; we want to commend it to every man's conscience in the sight of God. Then there is the Spiritual form of doubt, but not nearly so prevalent now-a-days as it used to be. This kind of doubt seems to be indigenous to the Calvinistic theology, and that type of religious life which makes sensation, or, if you like, 222 Lecture XVI. spiritual feeling, the grand fact of religion. Persons who are Calvinistic in their creed, and persons who rely upon their creed — let their feelings be excitable or pacific — are very apt to drop into this form ; and when they put it into words it takes this shape, "Am I elect or reprobate? Was I ever converted? Have I not been a hypocrite all these years? Shall I ever reach my journey's end? Shall I be received into heaven?" I often find these questions among elderly people ; good old men and women who have been fighting the Lord's battles year after year, and are just ready to lay off their armor and put on their crown, but because they have been brought up in a stern theology, they question their own salvation. To tell the truth, there is not a great liability to this kind of doubt throughout the world at the present time. We are too apt to take it for granted that, if any one be saved, we are of the saved ones, we are the elect. Theology has shifted its battle-ground from where it used to be a few years since, and this spirit of doubt has, there- fore, no extensive range. I wish men were more spiritually- minded; I wish I were myself Still, we must take things as they are. Let us consider a little the effect of doubt upon the mind. Taking the chapter I have read as our text, I think I may say, in the first place, that religious lack of belief, whether philo- sophical, rationalistic, or spiritual, is a result, and sometimes a form, of idleness. The Christian life, as laid down by the Lord Jesus Christ, should be a useful life. A man should go about doing good ; relieving the necessities of men ; showing by his works that he is a child of the Father who is in heaven. The apostles insisted that we should show Qur faith by our works. And let me say this, the ideal Christian life is one of usefulness, and the Christian becomes useful only as he believes in the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, I know a great many say they believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and yet are not useful. They come to church, but do not work for it, and are of no use to the world ; they do not go about doing good. Oh! but, they say, if any come to us we always relieve them. And yet, that is not going about doing good. Go, and give medicine to the Doubting Castle. « 223 sick, bread to the hungry, a cup of cold water, in the name of your Master; go, and clothe the naked, visit those in prisons, and teach the ignorant; go, and do that. That is the Christian life, and no man is living a Christian life who does not do that. He cannot do it by proxy, or leave others to do it for him ; but does it himself, as the Lord has commanded, and no man is Christ's disciple who does not do His bidding. I do not care whether he is a member of the church or not; I do not care whether "elect" or not; I do not care whether he thinks his name is formally written in heaven as he has signed it on the church-roll — no man is a Christian who does not follow his Lord in doing good. The ideal life, then, is one of usefulness; but doubt makes us useless. If a man does not believe in what he does, or in what he is required to do, he cannot do it. It is not the men of doubt, but the men of broad, deep faith, who are doing good in this world. There came a time in the progress of the world when it was necessary to provide a relief for the over-populated regions of Europe — a relief needed then, and needed centuries afterwards ; and there was a man who watched the moon and the stars — a man of intellectual power and far-reaching thought, who came forth with the declaration that there was another world waiting to be discovered, all ready for the people who had become much too numerous for their old abode, and he asked that he might be sent thither that he might find it. But his country doubted, and the world doubted. There was a gathering of the savans of the world, who looked upon his plans, and pronounced them chimerical — they doubted. By and by, however, the faith of the man triumphed ; for it is through faith that we triumph in all things worthy ; and after awhile he was permitted to set sail, and in due course of time discovered this new world of ours. It was that man of all the world who had faith, and not the mil- lions left behind, the doubters, that discovered America. It is said now that men have lost confidence ; times are so hard and money so tight ; but I notice as I go about that it is not the men who have lost confidence who are keeping up this city and county and state and country, but it is the men who 224 Lecture XVI. believe in man ; it is those who exercise commercial faith that keep thins^s i^t^ni^, though they go never so slowly. And it is not the man of doubt but the man of faith who keeps things moving, morally as well as physically. Again, doubt is a state of misery. Bunyan has described it, and he brings his illustration from his own experience. That good man, John Hunyan, the orthodox Calvinist, rigid, but great enlightcner of the world, the man at whose feet the wisest have sat, receiving from his hand the water of life — that man had tloubts. Is it sinful to doubt ? Certainly not ; so doubt is hon- est it is not sinful ; but doubt ma\' be wicked, just as coming to church may be wicked, or praying may be wicked. It all depends ujion the man, his motives and circumstances. Ikit this man Ikinyan was tossed about by his doubts, and cast into the deepest possible misery. You can read the story of it in his "Sinner Saved" and in his "Holy War." There were various kinds of doubt injected into his soul which made him miserable and wretched. Now why should a state of doubt produce misery? 1 assume the fact, first, that it does, without attempting to prove it. And now wh)- slunikl a state of imcertaint)' protluce miserx' ? 1 lu^kl, though of course 1 may be mistaken, that man has certain in- nate religious ideas — intuitions they are called b)' some — and one of these intuitions is the soul's instinct of a future life; and another truth which 1 hold as written on every man's being, is the moral law. Iwery man knows just how every other man should act to him, whether he himself acts rightly toward that other man or not. h.very man knows what right is. This I call the first revelation God has given to man, and God has knitted that revelation into every man's being ; it is in his bones, in his blood, in his brain, in his soul — it is all over him, and you cannot find a man an)-where, until he has been spoiled by civil- ization, who does not intuitively believe in a God. I do not say he will ha\ e correct ideas about God, but he will believe in the existence of a being outside of himself, on whom he depends and to whom he is amenable. He believes in the immortalit)' of his soul — always desires another life. Again, he believes in Doubting Castle. » 225 his responsibility for his conduct, and in future rewards and punishments resulting. Then there is another thing that the natural man everywhere believes in — he believes in a Christ. Every man has in his soul an ideal Christ ; every man expects a Christ, a Savior, some one to deliver him ; and those who reject Jesus of Nazareth and the Christ in whom we believe, still expect one. Read the history of Spiritualism, say during three or four years past. Now and then you will find there expressed the prophecy that some one is about to be born who is going to deliver this world out of all its wretchedness, and place it in a state of peace and happiness. Read Kcclesiastical history, and you will find that in every cen- tury some one has come forward to pronounce a prophecy that Christ would appear. All are looking for a Savior. And not only do men have an ideal Christ, but they all expect a Savior who will come to help and bless them, individually. Now, then, if such ideas as these be native to man's belief, if you .should destroy such innate ideas, you would leave the man in a state of incompleteness and wretchedness — he would no longer be himself. You may deny the fact that there is a God, and say there is nothing but the desire for one. You may deny the immortality of the .soul, but will still wish that your soul was immortal. You may deny that God sent His Son, and that he appeared in human flesh for man's salvation ; still man will pray that a Savior may come, and long for a Christ to de- liver him from the thralldom of his sins. You may deny the future of rewards and punishments, and still a man's inmost soul will feel that there is a ruling principle of justice in this universe, in which he must believe. You may deny it all, and what have you done for man ? So far as he believes you he must be unhappy. It is said that insane persons never weep, they feel great misery, but can never shed a tear, the natural relief for misery. So with those who, born with all these cravings after God and im- mortality and the desire for righteousness intuitive in the soul, if they become deprived of the natural bent to which their own instincts would lead them. A state of doubt, then, is a state of misery ; and it cannot be otherwise. —29 226 Lecture XVI. So miserable were these Pilgrims here that they actually con- templated suicide. And, if you remember, Giant Despair him- self advised them to lay violent hands upon themselves, either by pistol, poison, or the rope. However, in this case, the Giant failed to persuade his victims. I do not know whether Bunyan himself knew it, but it ap- pears he did. It is, however, a fact, for the proof of which I refer you to the works of leading Atheists, and if chapter and verse be required by any one, I will be happy to furnish them. Most of them defend, and many of them advocate suicide. This is but a natural result of despair. When a man doubts the great facts of life, what is there to live for? Doubt God, and what is there to live for ? Say there is no eternity, and what is time worth ? Life is not worth the living if there be no God, and if there be no immortality. And so very naturally these men advocate suicide. If I believed as they do, I think I should take my life in my hand and go out from my despair into the blackness of darkness forever ; for life is a mockery if there be no future, and if there be no God for to love us, through all our mistakes. Let me now recall to you the circumstances which led them into this condition of doubt and despair. You notice the chap- ter commences with a delightful description of a river, and the Pilgrims walking in the path by its side. P^or my part I really don't know anything more pleasing than to walk by the the side of an Itnglish stream ; all graceful flowers are growing there, and luxuriant fruits hanging above your head. I say I know nothing more delightful. As I have read this chapter my thought has gone home again to the scenes of my boyhood, and the reminiscence has been exceedingly grateful. There are sweet experiences, when rightly used, in the life of every Chris- tian ; delightful seasons in which we seem to be walking in green pastures and beside still waters ; when Christian life appears to be all sunshine, all flowers and joy and fruit. There are some of those precious seasons in every Christian life. But mark this, they do not last long. We are sometimes sorry they do not tarry with us ; yet it is no doubt a good thing for us that Doubting Castle. • 227 they do not. As these Pilgrims passed on through this delight- ful part of their journey they found that the river and their path began to diverge, and as they went on their way apart from the river, they were obliged to leave the flowers and fruits and pleasing shade, while their path became every moment rougher and less inviting, and at last they grew extremely tired. They did not like to go away from the river, and they cast about to see if they could not find a compromise. I have been teaching you all along that the path of the Pil- grims was, in the main, a path of ruggedness and self-denial. These Pilgrims, soon wearying of the unwelcome revival of trial, sought to return to their late delights, and looking over a stile, to which they came in their way, they discovered another path stretching away through a beautiful green meadow, and apparently running parallel with their own, and they thought to themselves to take this new path, which looked so easy, and leave the old one, now grown so hard. How many of us do that ? Christians go to their church meet- ings sometimes, and find peculiar seasons of refreshing, and the place seems a little heaven below. "Once they sing, and once they pray, And so they keep the holy day." And their hearts keep up an echo to the strain : — "My willing soul would stay In such a frame as this, And sit and sing herself away To everlasting bliss." But you will notice that such satisfying experiences as these lie right in the path of righteousness, not out of it. There is great temptation to the soul, in recalling such experiences, to be seduced from the way of righteousness, in hope of securing a renewal of pleasure Let me tell you, then, that, as a rule, you will find the Christian life antagonistic and agonistic ; against flesh and blood. It mean.s'to row against wind and tide; it is to go against the natural selfishness of the spirit of man ; it is against 228 Lecture XVI. man's pocket, against man's pride, against man's worldliness, and against the maxims of this world ; and since its loving, Christ-like spirit is only to be found where Christ's love is shed in the hearts of His followers, those who leave the path of righteousness, in undue longing for pleasure, will find — and find in bitterness — that, though it is not hostile to the world, the world is hostile to it. Sweet, then, is pleasure when it comes in the path of duty, but out of that path it is dangerous. Let me show you, by one or two illustrations, of this going astray. There are those who substitute worship for duty. Do you not know it is a very easy thing to go aside on Sunday, and, as it is called, "worship God?" Let the choir sing to you, and criticise it ; let the preacher preach to you, and criticise him ; sit in displeasure, and go away in disparagement ; or be pleased, and retire to talk of the excellence of the sermon and the melodious singing. It is easy. Ah, good man, he has been to Church, and he thinks he is a Christian ! But that is not being a Christian. As well might a man, after eating a hearty breakfast of his wife's preparing, stalk down town saying to himself, "I am a good financier." Ask his wife; she knows. A man comes here to the public service, takes part in worship, and says, "I am a good Christian." Ask God; He knows. Let me tell you, my friend, if you come to worship your Maker, forgetting your brother, forgetting a little child whose daily prayer for bread you might have answered — if you come here forgetting those, the love of God does not dwell in you. Do not forget them for worship. I notice some people think they exhibit considerable interest in the Sunday-school because, once a year, they go to the Sunday-school picnic, and after that, all the year round, never come in to take a class. I do not think they are very much interested in the Sunday-school. I think they make a very poor display of Christian interest. Going to a picnic does not bring you into the Sunday-school, but, on the contrary, taking a class and teaching it so faithfully that you are so worn out you cannot go to a picnic — that would help the school along. Here, then, is the first mistake: leaving right- eousness for pleasure. Doubting Castle.. , 229 And now, another thing : In going aside, they fall in with Ego- tism and Self-Confidence. When these Pilgrims got out of the way, they saw a man named Self Confidence before them, and they asked him where he was going ; he said to the Celestial City ; so they took it for granted that they must be in the right way. Some men are very confident they are on the way to the Celestial City, when they are not going there at all. We are apt to be untrue to ourselves; cover up our sins; disguise our shortcomings. He that doeth not the Master's will goes astray, and in duty neglected, danger begins. There is danger in obey- ing one's self-confidence and trusting to one's own notions, instead of abiding strictly by the will of God and the declarations of Christ. Then, how these Pilgrims got into doubt, appears to have been: First, through tasting religious pleasure; then, in hope of renewing the pleasure in going astray from the Path of Right- eousness; and then finding themselves in the wrong path, contin- uing in it through self-conceit and egotism. Now, then, for the way out of this condition of doubt and despair. One way is mentioned by Bunyan, and that is by prayer. These Pilgrims began praying on Saturday night, and kept on praying until the break of day ; all night long through the darkness they continued in prayer. But some one will say, I do not believe in prayer. Well, that proves you have never been at sea ; be- cause if you had ever been in a storm at sea, you would believe in prayer. Now, let us understand each other about this matter of prayer. You say you do not believe in it, but, perhaps, you do not understand what prayer is. Perhaps you reply, I have not thought it worth while to think about it. Well, I tell you frankly, on the whole, I mVself do not believe in many preva- lent theories concerning prayer, yet I believe in prayer, and I may tell you that you are not true to your own nature if you have no faith in prayer. The soul, with the tongue of its native instinct, cries out for God, and will pray. Who are you to gainsay it? Look at the dying man, with his feet on the threshold of eternity, hear him pray; see the storm-tossed 230 Lkcpukk \\'1. mariner, lunv he calls on Ciod lor salot)'; bchi^Ul {he nuUlu-r stoopinL; o\ cr hcv sick babe, hows she prays; the widow and tlu' itrphan, aliHU", cryini;" for their heax'enly l'\'\ther's care ; ah, look at the sinner afraid tni inan\- ot the leading [lastors of C'hicago, but the\- could not satisty him. ilis doubts lingereil; and finally he sank into despair, and was in daiii^ei o[ being a castaway. At length his friends persuaded him to see M