fa ^oh §M&CM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. m Shelf ,.S~-1 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THOUGHT SEED HOLY SEASONS REV. ROBERT S. BARRETT AUTHOR OF " CHARACTER BUILDING," ETC. NEW YORK THOMAS WHITTAKER 2 and 3 Bible House I89O Copyright, 1890, By Thomas Whittaker Press of J. J. Little & Co, Astor Place, New York. DEDICATION. S SOMETIMES SAID OF A MAN THAT "HE IS A GENTLEMAN AND A SCHOLAR." IN THE FULL AND LITERAL SENSE OF THESE WORDS, THIS MAT BE SAID OF MY LOVED AND ESTEEMED FRIEND, gisTxtfp gittfteg OF KENTUCKY. IT MAY BE ADDED THAT HE IS A CHRISTIAN IN THE REAL MEANING OF THAT GREAT WORD; AND A CATHOLIC BISHOP, TOO, IN THE TRUEST AND BEST SENSE OF CATHOLIC. FOR THESE REASONS THIS LITTLE BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO HIM. alia**** -£3 PREFACE. n^HE Christian Year, with its dear associa- tions, with its tremulous memories, with its holy days and its marvellous story, awakens in every heart some thoughts and hopes and resolu- tions. A few of my own reflections I have here given you. They are but "bare grain," mere seeds gathered after the bloom has faded. Of the flowers which I have woven into the Christmas evergreen wreath, and. the Good Friday thorn-crown, and among the Easter lilies, I have kept the seeds, and present them now to you. I pray that they may be suggestive of at least some part of the living thought and purpose of which these seeds are but a poor expression, and that God shall take this "bare grain," and give it a body, as it shall please Him. THOUGHT SEED FOR HOLY SEASONS. TTTE instinctively believe in Judgment. We * * have a presentiment that wrong will be righted, that the crooked will be made straight, that justice will at last prevail. We believe in a Day, — it may be far off, — when the unequal chances of men will be considered, when the prin- ciple of judgment will be, " To whom much is given shall much be required," and men shall receive equal praise for equal fidelity. Perhaps the most despised thing in all the catalogue of Christian men is the ignorant heathen convert, who, in his blind and faulty way, is groping up to the light ; yet at the eventide he may receive more — he will certainly not receive less — than the eloquent preacher who lays down the law for a multitude. It will be seen that it is as hard to crawl a rod through the slums of paganism, as it is to ride a mile on the highways of Christian civilization. Even among us, opportunities for doing good are uneven. There are rich men and 10 Second Sunday in Advent. poor men, dull men and clever men, sick men and well men. In the noble race of doing deeds, the unencumbered, independent, free and strong man comes first to the goal, and easily too. He is applauded. Last to arrive is the unsuccessful creature who has dragged along under the chains of poverty or the weights of disease. But the sweat of a greater effort is upon him. He re- ceives no applause ; perhaps ridicule instead. But in the great cloud of witnesses is God. He sees the chains, the weights, the sweat, the greater effort, and He says, " Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things." A N English newspaper assigns its editorial -*--*- work to specialists. Lawyers write on law, soldiers on war, farmers on agriculture. One editor-in-chief selects these men and supervises their work. The paper has a great main object, but it gets at this object through many channels. It may be Conservative or Liberal, but it promul- gates its principles among all classes of men. Merchants, mechanics, lawyers, physicians, are sure to find something of interest written by men of their own professions, and in language which Second Sunday in Advent. 11 they know. Thus the Bible has one great main object. It is " profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." It is a book for every age and all the world. It has many autho7-s, but it has one Editor. He selects men of every character and clime, every degree and occupation, and they do their work under his unerring supervision. Thus rich and poor, kings and peasants, poets, philosophers and fishermen do hear them speak in their own tongues the wonderful works of God. In David's poetry, in St. John's narrative, in St. Paul's logic, the Holy Spirit permits no omission, no error. In all this manifold flow of thought there is a oneness of edi- torship which declares that all Scripture is given by inspiration of God. Yet a book for sages and babes. Our blessed Bible ! Its divine element grasping the wisdom of God, its human element dispensing it to the sons of men. An infallible depository of religious truth, within the reach of all capacities. "And he may read who binds the sheaf, Or builds the house, or digs the grave ; Or those wild eyes that watch the wave In roaring round the coral reef." 12 Third Sunday in Advent. &§\xb gunbay in (fttotnf. A S St. John the Baptist prepared the way for -*--*- the Christ, so God's minister prepares our way for death and judgment. This prophet of Jordan may be rough or sombre, this voice in the wilderness may seem a solemn sound. Its soul- searching directness may irritate, may anger us. But we had better heed. Men almost instinctively resent reproof ; they do not like plain truths about themselves. Light hurts weak eyes ; honey burns sore throats. Lais, the Corinthian beauty, broke her mirror because it showed her wrinkles. This is foolish. I ought to be grateful to any who help me to know myself. When I remember how I shrink from reproving another, I ought to feel deeply indebted to the man who has brought him- self to the point of reproving me. Some one has said that no man can be perfect without either a watchful enemy or a faithful friend. Let us value the faithful friend. He may not tickle our van- ity, as does the honey-tongued flatterer, who, like Vitellius, worshipped Jehovah at Jerusalem and Caligula at Rome, but he will make us stronger and purer. The faithful friend may not be wise, or even delicate, in his methods, but let us appreciate his spirit. We, not he, will lose most if we drive him from us. If fallen under a burden, would you resent the service of him who came to lift it ? If Fourth Sunday in Advent. 13 wounded, would you repel the hand outstretched to set the broken bone ? If benighted in the wil- derness, would you take ill the proffers of a guide ? Welcome, then, the true minister of God, who comes to lift the burden of sin, to heal the wounded heart, and guide your wandering feet back to the Father's house. 5out^ ^unba^ in (ftb&atf. /CONSCIENCE is a fact. You may disregard ^-^ it, but you cannot deny its existence. You may disobey it, but you must listen to it. Con- science is not at our disposal. Its message is simple, but urgent. It says, " Do right, do right," — only this. It does not decide what is right. We must decide that for ourselves. We are re- sponsible for our decision. Conscience is no casu- ist. It simply says, " Do right, do right. 1 ' It is a voice within us, but it comes from without us. If we disobey, conscience whips us, and we must sub- mit. The voice may be hushed for a time, but only for a time. Conscience may be smothered by passion. It may be trampled under foot by selfish- ness. Pride may take away its sceptre, pleasure may seize its crown, wilful sin may usurp its throne. But its voice will whisper, " Do right, do right." And by and by its revenge will come. Then it 14 Christmas Day. will no longer whisper. Passion loses its grip, selfishness, sin, and pride become impotent. Con- science arises in its wrath, seizes again its throne and crown, waves its sceptre over wreck and ruin, and cries aloud, with the voice of a victor, "Do right ! " TDAGANISM is misplaced incarnation. Some of -*- these fancied incarnations are very revolting, and some of them are really sublime. The Egyp- tian's cat and crocodile are gross forms for God to take. The horrid fetiches of the Dark Continent are even worse. The Greek mythologies are classic and beautiful. There is something imposing in the fire-worship of the Parsees, and the Indian's river- god moving in majesty. But when God did really come to dwell among us, He came as a human child, an infant in its mother's arms. This is at once the most mysterious, the most beautiful, and the most universal form God could take, as far as we can think. The most mysterious, because Darwin and Huxley acknowledge no more baffling mystery than that of mother and child. The most beauti- ful, because Raphael and Murillo attempted to paint nothing more beautiful than a child in its mother's arms. The most universal, because the Holy Innocents' Day. 15 traveller who encircles the earth hears no voice which declares the brotherhood of man like the voice of an infant. It is a universal language, always the same, whether the plaintive cry come from the Indian pappoose hanging from the bend- ing bow, or from the Italian bambino among the sunny hills of Tuscany. The same one touch of nature, whether coming from Laplander's furs, or Hottentot's booth, or Hindoo's bungalow, or Turk's kiosk, or Arab's tent, or the silken curtains of a palace, or the squalid poverty of a garret. Mys- terious ! beautiful ! universal ! "^TESTLE close to the warm heart of Jesus, thou -^ little one ; for there alone among all the re- ligions of the earth is a place for thee ! Christ's religion respects children. It considers nothing else in all this world more worthy of respect and love. Childhood is sanctified by the God-Child. Our blessed religion looks upon children as im- mortal creatures, full of beauty. They are the inheritors of the kingdom of heaven. We are so accustomed to see children treated as if they were really people, that we do not appreciate the bless- ing of it. It is by no means a matter of course 16 The Sunday after Christmas. that children are respected. Look at the social contempt in which Mahometan children are held. Look at the random influence of the infidel's child. The atheist may indeed treat his child after the Christian custom of the land he lives in; but at the bottom of his creed the child is a mere perish- ing brute. Listen to the shrill shriek that comes from the fiery altar of Moloch, and the splash on the banks of the Ganges. Look at China's infant- icide, and the blotfd on the Juggernaut's wheel. Then look at Christendom's child enthroned, enthroned in the church, in the home, in the school, in Christian art, and in the Christmas fes- tival. Blessed be the Bethlehem manger, that makes holy the estate of childhood. And God bless every child and every childlike heart this blessed day. t$t gunbty tftet tfyxwtmcx*. o NE very good thing about adversity is that it makes us sympathetic. We feel with the af- flicted as well as for them. And the afflicted real- ize this, and that is the best part of it. If I am in trouble there comes to me a friend who has never known sorrow. I thank him for his well-meaning words, but they do not get near my heart. Then comes a woman in deep black ; no words come End of the Year. 17 from the crape veil, but a soft hand is laid upon mine in silence, and the magnetic touch of sympa- thy conveys comfoit from her life to mine. Thus God entered into all the conditions of human grief and weakness, not that He might feel for us, but that He might feel with us, that He might be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, and that we might realize this. He became all things to all men, to teach all men that sin was the only condition which his sj^mpathy cannot touch. To the suffering, He is the Man of Sorrows ; to the iso- lated, He is treading the wine-press alone ; to the joyous, He is the guest at the feast; to the poor, He hath not where to lay his head ; to the laborer, He is the carpenter of Nazareth ; to the aged, He is descending into the valley of the shadow of death ; to the boy, He is a boy ; to children, and to all of us who have need to cherish children, He is the helpless babe nourished at a woman's breast. &nb of t$t ytoct. A LADY once dreamed that she was sailing in ~^-*- a boat, and that her necklace having broken loose, the pearls were dropping one by one into the sea, yet she could not prevent it. It is no dream, but a reality, that we have the bitter pang of seeing our precious years slipping from us forever, one by one. Oh, subtle, insatiable Time, what hast thou 18 Circumcision — New Year's Day. not devoured ! The devourer leaves but little in- deed, to him whose treasures are laid up on earth. At the year's end they have a handful of dust — memories, regrets, and worse. What a time this is to weigh the dust of the dead past ! A poor creature in despair was heard to make the crazed cry, " If thou canst call back Time again, then there is hope for me ! " It cannot be done. It is gone ! We shall never see it again till the judgment. There is no use to follow along behind Time, with hot tears and vain regrets and moral sentiments. The proverb says, " Wisdom walks before Time, and Opportunity beside it."' Turn your sentiments and tears into resolution, faith, and prayer. Make Time give instead of take. It will give you a sweet conscience and a happy hope. It will give you soul treasures which it cannot take away again. Time will be the vestibule of Eternity. The passing years, one by one, will be the successive upward steps to God. Circumct0ion — (TUto Vtax f B ©a^. SOMETIMES we stand by the open grave. The well-known form swings down in silence to its narrow bed. " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The men cast down the sod; the sexton smooths off the mound ; the priest steps Epiphany. 19 back ; the spades and the ropes are laid aside ; then comes one silently and puts down a wreath of roses, and another with trembling hand lays down a cross of chrysanthemums, and another with moist eyes comes with an anchor of evergreen, and the cold grave is covered with flowers. Ah me ! It's a pity that all the flowers were kept till the friend was dead. Perhaps a single bud in the sick-room would have made one day less tedious. Perhaps a single mark of consideration would have lifted the burden and inspired hope. Who can tell ? On this glad, this sad new year, let us re- member that we have living friends and children and God's own poor. It will do them, at least, more good, if now, and not hereafter, we weave the wreath of roses for the pathway, or a chaplet of encouragement, or a cross of faith, or an an- chor of hope. n~^HE spirit of Christianity is getting away from -*- self. The farther the better. The farther from self, the nearer the spirit of Christ, who came so far to die. There is much self in our kind deeds. In our Christmas gifts to friends there is much self-gratification; less in the gift to the parish; less still in the contributions to the dio- 20 Epiphany. cese ; less still in those sent to domestic missions ; and least selfishness of all, and therefore more re- ligion, in money sent to foreign missions. Jesus was the greatest foreign missionary. St. Paul was a true foreign missionary. There were plenty of sinners in Asia, but the command said, " Go into all the world." The foreign field was Europe. Think of that ! Europe ! And yet some ques- tion the success of foreign missions. Then, cen- turies later, America called for help. No doubt some said, " We have too many practical heathens at home." But others sent help to America. Now some here begrudge the pittance which goes to do for others what was done for us. They say, " Look at the poor and ignorant at home." Well, look at them by all means, and help them too. But do not take the little ewe lamb from the poor man's bosom to feed thy guest ; take it from thy abundant flocks. Do not take the sparse trifle from the mission fund to teach the heathen at thy door. Take it from the abundance of fashion, from the millions devoted to luxury, from the for- tunes lavished upon dissipation and vanity. Do God's command, and save thy soul. He says, Spread the gospel abroad. It will succeed ; never fear. Of course much foundation work, costly masonry, must disappear before the superstructure gladdens the eye. But all true work is God's, and in his time the work will rise to sight, a splendid fabric, like Europe and America. First Sunday after Epiphany. 21 T TOPE is man's inspiration. Hope's yoke is -* — ■- easy, and her burden is light, and her toil is sweet ; for with magic wand she inspires man with her pictures of the future. When the weary stu- dent burns the midnight, oil, she keeps her vigil too, and paints the honors of commencement day. When she would wipe the sweat from the laborer's brow, she summons up the cheerful glow and domestic joy of a future hearthstone that shall be his. When she would cheer the fainting farmer's heart who sows his seed upon the upturned sod, she unfolds the fields of waving golden grain. When she would speed the caravan across the arid sands of the desert, she pictures the gurgling foun- tains of the oasis and the waving palms. When she would nerve the sailor's heart to climb the swaying mast, she portrays the prospect of the green hills and white cottages which encircle the placid harbor far away. When she would fire the soldier's blood amid scenes of carnage and death, she holds before his eyes the spoils and crowns of victory. Yes, hope is man's inspira- tion, his solace in trouble, his guide in perplexity, his strength in weakness ; the poor man's wealth, the sick man's medicine, the belated traveller's lamp, the prisoner's window, the Christian's very life. 22 Second Sunday after Epiphany, ^ttonb ^unbtmc$i8%\na. "A /TILTON'S Paradise Lost, Dante's Inferno, JJVJL D or ^' s cartoons, the weird word-painting of the pulpit, dreadful fancy pictures of hell, — all of this cannot make us understand what it is to be lost. It was not to purgatory or hell that Christ went, but it was into this world of ours that he came to seek and to save the lost. They were here. To be lost is to get away from where we belong. The lost sheep, the lost prodigal, were wanderers. They were not dead, they were not in hell; but they were lost. The soul does not 28 Sexagesima. belong to sin and the devil ; it belongs to God. And if you want to know how lost the soul is, then learn how far it has gotten away from God. That is the thing to know. Heaven and hell are incidentals. If you take care to be saved from youY sins, to be brought back to the image of God from which you have wandered, heaven and hell will take care of themselves. Now, if you would know how lost you are, put your life, with all its selfishness and littleness, beside the life of Jesus ; your motives by his, your thoughts by his, your heart by his. Try and see how far you have gotten away from the perfect image of the God-Man. He is the perfect specimen of man, of which the rest of us are ruins, it matters not how magnificent these ruins may be. He shows us a specimen of man who is not lost. The image of Christ will teach us more about the lost than Dora's cartoons could ever do. f I ^HE devil, by some surprising ingenuity, has -*- contrived to create the impression that reli- gion is unmanly. Most men desire to be manly, and most profess to be. What is manliness? Some very young persons have imagined that it is manly to smoke cigars or swear. Others think Sexagesima. 29 manliness is physical perfection, — strength, agil- ity, skill, endurance. Of course, it is a Christian duty to develop the body. Other things rule by strength, but the body rules by weakness. If we would govern our bodies, they must be strong and well. A sick, weakly body will surely rule us as a tyrant. But manliness is in the soul. Indeed, no quality can be called essentially manly in which the brute may excel the man. Feats of endurance, strength, and skill have been applauded as manly; but no man can lift as much as an ass, or swim as far as a goose. Quick resentment and stubborn conflict have been thought manly, but this would make the bull-dog manly. Manliness consists of four things, — unselfishness, truth, moral courage, and earnestness. The selfish man is not manly, though he be as strong as Atlas. The liar is not manly, though he be the laureate pugilist of the land. The moral coward is not manly, whatever may be his physical hardihood. The frivolous man cannot be manly, for his life lacks purpose and positive power. Now, all of these manly qualities find their highest development in the true Chris- tian. 30 Qninquagesima. Quinqua^sima. M 1 "EN in these times seem unwilling to hear of - future punishment. Hell is no longer a word for ears polite. They talk as if " a certain class of preachers " invented hell and kept it burn- ing to enforce their precepts. I was in Xaples in 1884, the year that cholera was epidemic. The Xeapolitans accused the physicians of bringing the cholera. The physicians predicted it; they told the people that unless they cleaned up their city the scourge would come. They laid down rules and gave warning. So when the cholera came, the people thought the physicians brought it to intimi- date them into washing themselves and keeping their back yards clean, so they threw stones at the physicians and drove them out of the city. These physicians had come to risk their lives for the un- grateful people who rejected them. Thus when preachers begin to talk of the scourge which will follow sin, the people — that is, some of them begin to think the preachers are in some way re- sponsible for this scourge. The preachers are as- sailed as cruel, fanatical, behind the times, and all that. Our Lord is a physician. He came and found the disease of sin and its fatal consequences here already. He did not bring them. He left his home to improve the sanitary condition of this Ash Wednesday. 31 world, to cleanse its filth. And in order to induce men to submit to his treatment, He warns them to flee from the wrath to come. "TTTHEREIN lies the reasonableness of fasting? ' » It is bringing the body into subjection ; it is a recognition that the body is a machine. The body is an important machine, God given. It is a dangerous machine, capable of destroying its owner. A good servant, a bad master. It is to keep the soul's mastership that we fast. The best fasting will have this distinct object in view. It will be done with intelligence and system. There is a vast deal of random, aimless fasting, well meant, but blind. Could we not have a text-book on fast- ing, — a book of tactics to increase our efficiency in fighting the flesh ? For want of something else, suppose we use some book on hygiene. How would Dio Lewis on " Our Digestion " do for a guide to fasting? Why not have a competent teacher to tell us what to eat, how to eat, how much to eat ; to tell us what food and drink conduce to animal development, what manner of living helps to bring the body into subjection, and make it a useful ser- vant instead of a cruel master ? If we have intel- 32 Second Day of Lent. ligence and system about this important business of fasting, it will be much more interesting, reason- able, and helpful to us. It will surely not be less Christian or acceptable to God because it is done with system, not less devotional, not less compati- ble with prayer. And these hygienic rules of life will furnish ninety-nine out of every hundred per- sons all the scope for abstinence from food which they could desire, or which a season of humiliation could demand. Of course propriety will suggest abstinence in other directions, — abstinence from gayety and festivity while we are commemorating the sufferings of our Saviour. ^tconb ©a^ of Btnt TT^ORBIDDEX fruit is sweet. It is sweetened -*- by the devil. One forbidden tree in Eden seemed better than a thousand trees allowed. That terrible magician has power to concentrate our gaze upon one object — power to withdraw our eyes from the pure and wholesome fruits of many trees, and rivet them upon that one forbidden thing. He so intensifies our thought upon that one desire that it outgrows all desires, and perhaps life itself for the time seems stale and fiat unless that one desire be gratified. That is one of the supernatural powers Third Day of Lent. 33 of the serpent to charm his victims. This dreadful delusion, this deadly fascination, fills common ob- jects with dazzling beauty. The colored lights of hell are reflected upon earthly things, and make them appear heavenly. Thus the gaming table is made to assume attractions which make money and land and houses insignificant trifles in comparison. Thus a glass of liquor grows in beauty and power that will out-dazzle the love of family, or the joys of home, or even the hopes of heaven. tfyixb ®cy of &§\xttznt§ ©a^ of imi. "VTATIONS must settle their differences by ar- -^ bit-ration instead of war, because we have such commercial relations with our antagonists that we cannot afford to fight. For the same rea- son the differences between the Church and the world ought to be settled by arbitration, because of the close domestic, social, and financial intimacy between them. The Paul of the nineteenth cen- tury is a guest in Mammon's house, and Mammon publishes his sermon in the morning paper. Yet let us never forget that with all these appearances of peace there are two distinc J sides. The conflict is just as real, the victories are just as glorious, and the defeats just as ruinous, as though the conflict were a conflict of blood. Tins is the modern, the civilized mode of conflict, — the conflict of diplo- mates instead of armies, the conflict of pens instead of swords, of brains instead of brutal force. Let us remember that in this quiet conflict between God and Mammon, between truth and falsehood, we all bear a part. Let us not be deceived by the silence of tilings. Men are borne in silent flight to ruin upon the noiseless wing of hellish tenden- cies. Let not the moral savor of the world's phil- osophy hide from our eyes the hollo wness and idolatry which everywhere surround us. We must Fourteenth Day of Lent. 47 conform to modern usage, it is better. Let the conflict be a moral fight. But we must never for one moment lose sight of its real and vital character. Let not the devil escort you to hell with a smile. §o\xxUtxdfy ©a^ of £tnl SOME persons have thought that the highest aspiration of a Christian's life is to get to the dead level of innocence. They measure their spir- itual progress by the question, " How far am I from the devil ? " instead of " How near am I to God ? " But all of this is merely negative, not positive ; destructive, not constructive. Some one has com- pared the religious life to moving into a house. There are repairs to be made. Perhaps the foun- dation timbers are rotten. But when the house is repaired it has still to be furnished, and we must furnish each one his own spiritual house. Every man is the cabinet-maker of his own soul furniture. We are the weavers to upholster our own hearts. We are the artists to decorate the walls of our own imaginations. We are the musicians to make and tune the stringed instruments that are to rill our lives with melody. If we are idle, our spiritual house will be empty and cheerless and musicless. 48 Fifteenth Day of Lent. §\ftmt$ ©a^j of £mi OH ALL we prove that it is reasonable for a lawyer ^ to practise law ? for the farmer to sow seed ? for the merchant to buy and sell ? Shall we prove, then, that man should do that which he was made to do ; that the creature ought to serve the Creator? This is his business. If he do not that, he is a fail- ure as a man. Even as an animal his success is only partial. The deer is swifter, the ass is stronger, the sparrow is merrier. As a man he is a failure. He may be a success as a clothes-weaver, or as a fact-collector, or as a money-gatherer, but as a man, as a child of God, as a member of the kingdom of heaven, he is a failure. Like a book used for fuel — a failure as a book, and poor fuel. It is sad to see anything debased to low and sordid ends, which was made for high purposes. Here is the hulk of a noble ship, used for a wrecker's hut. What a fall was there, thou once fair and free-winged rover of the sea ! Here is a goodly garden become a swine- pen. Miry filth instead of delicate and fragrant bloom. Here is a caged eagle with wing broken and feathers befouled, hobbling in the dirt. Ah, thou king of aerial heights and purity ! But far sadder than all is the immortal spirit of man, bound by the habits and crippled by the passions of the world, — like the lap-wing, crowned with a crown, and feeding on dirt. Sixteenth Day of Lent. 49 gfatmtfy ©a^ of &tnl /"CHARACTER is a building of which every man ^-^ is his own architect. Human characters pre- sent every variety, from the rickety hovel to the Gothic minster. Among great characters there is a wide diversity of style. There are Gothic char- acters, and composite characters, and Romanesque, and Oriental, and classic. We have the classic Parthenon, and Addison and Macaulay. We have the Roman Coliseum, and Martin Luther. We have the Stones of Venice, and Jeremy Taylor. We have Edinburgh Castle, and Thomas Carlyle. We have Westminster Abbey, and William E. Gladstone. We have the Pyramids of Egypt in their grand and enduring simplicity, and we have Robert E. Lee. John Ruskin tells us there are "seven lamps of architecture," or seven princi- ples which must enter into every building that aspires to true greatness. These principles are sacrifice, truth, power, beauty, life, memory, and obedience. It may be said that that character also is truly great in which John Ruskin's seven lamps of archi- tecture find their highest development. Let architects of material building study the Coliseum, where the three orders of Greek archi- tecture are found, — Doric in the first story, Ionic 50 Third Sunday in Lent. in the second, and Corinthian in the third ; but let character-builders study the life of Jesus Christ, that temple in which all of John Ruskin's seven lamps of architecture meet in perfect proportion. £§irb ^unba^ in &mfy*fiff§ ©aj> of JSmt. "HpHY kingdom come." The provinces of God -*- extend through heaven and earth and hell. " Thy kingdom come," is a fervent prayer that all wrong shall be righted everywhere. It is a prayer for the militant Church, — that mighty army which, in weakness and strength, in success and failure, sets its banners against the powers of darkness and death. It is a prayer for the protection and devel- opment of the Holy of Holies, that Church within the Church, that invisible real within the visible nominal. It is a prayer for the Church triumphant, that the day soon may dawn when " He shall have put down all rule and all authority and power, and deliver up the kingdom to the Father, that God may be all in all." Thy kingdom come, O God, to shorten the day of death, to drive darkness from Twenty-sixth Day of Lent. 61 the earth, and, like the rising sun, dispel the deeds and fears of night ! A myriad voices, from a myriad lands, in a myriad tongues, seem to say, " The kingdom of God is at hand." Even so, come, Lord Jesus, — come quickly. &y»wdy**wt§ ©a^ of &ent "TpHY will be done." The commander lays out -*- his plan, and every mysterious order, every seemingly useless march and countermarch, every hard-fought battle, every apparently cruel execu- tion or heartless act, every diplomatic measure, subserves to develop this plan, and bring it to its issue. So with Him " who ruleth over all." He has his plan. Every mysterious providence, every evolution of nature, every suffering saint, every ebb and flow of the Church's life and fortune, secretly but surely brings that plan to its perfect consummation. In this Divine Will we may be cheerful contributors, or compelled and unwilling agents. In the triumphant procession of God we may, we must, take a part, either by swelling the chorus or by following the chariot-wheels in cap- tive's chains. " Thy will be done," is the cry of acquiescence. Submission does not mean insen- sibility. Grace makes the heart more tender. Those who submit most patiently suffer most 62 Twenty-seventh Day of Lent. keenly and feel most deeply. When the Christian mother, in the silent hours of night, sees in fever- ish dreams her dead babe near her still, and, wak- ing, finds the pillow empty, we thank God that she can weep. Tears are God's gift. Among the gems of the Bible are the tears of Job and David and Jesus. Submission is seeing, through our tears, the merciful hand of God. &)vtntym»tnt§ ©ay of £tnt "/^\IVE us this day our daily bread." This day v -^ implies regular and constant prayer. Bread implies the necessities, not the dainties of life. Daily bread implies present needs, not future accumulations. Our daily bread means that the channel of God's gifts shall be our own efforts. Give us, means that though we plant and water, God must give the increase. Give us, not give me, means that we must live and let live. He who can say all of this prayer is a happy man. He has settled in his own heart the problem of bread, for which the socialist is demanding a solu- tion. He has armed himself against discontent. I have read of a child whose destitute mother was trying to shelter it from the winter's blast. They had gotten in a stack of straw, and were fortunate enough to find an old barn door, which Twenty-eighth Day of Lent. 63 they had pulled over their dry nest. As the sleet and rain beat upon the door, and the wind howled through the dark night, the little one snuggled close, and putting her hand to her mother's cheek, for she could not see her, she whispered, — " Isn't God good, mother, to give us this warm bed to-night ? and aren't you sorry, mother, for the poor people out in the rain and the dark ? " Ah me ! let us learn, in whatsoever state we are, to be therewith content. Hid in the hollow of his hand, we shall be sheltered from the storm- winds of all overwhelming evil. $tetntytig$f$ ©ay of &tnt "XpORGIVE us our trespasses, as we forgive -*- those who trespass against us." Jesus preached a sermon on this. In the parable of the forgiven, unforgiving servant, He gives us a picture of the impudence and hideousness of unforgiveness. It is a strong, vivid picture, that frightens us, and we exclaim, " Lord, is it I ? " There are some men — poor fellow-travellers to the grave — whose step is so different from our step that we cannot walk with them. But, surely, there is no fellow-servant in sorrow, in sin and in weakness, whom we cannot forgive from the heart, while every day and hour we must crave 64 Fifth Sunday in Lent. pardon from his Father and my Father, from his King as well as mine. Unforgiveness is disown- ing the mother that bore us free-born sons into the light and liberty of pardon. Refusing to for- give is like clambering upon some good rock to save myself from the angry sea, and then refusing to assist, refusing even to permit, another strug- gling mortal to climb upon it, claiming it as our right. There is still another picture which Jesus has given us, which is the very climax of all that can be said or thought on the subject of forgiveness. After years of persistent persecution, misrepresen- tation, hatred, abuse, and insult, He watched his triumphant, intolerant enemies drive the nails through his quivering flesh, and prayed, " Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." Yet He never had need to ask forgiveness for Himself. We must every day. $\ft$ gunbay in &tnt "T EAD us not into temptation." This petition -■-^ comes naturally after the prayer for forgive- ness. When a man wakes up to see hanging over him the spectre of sin. — unable to move, almost losing breath under the oppression of guilt, he cries aloud, - Forgive, oh, forgive ! " When, then, Twenty-ninth Day of Lent. 65 the Lord comes to rescue him, to remove the weight, and he arises a free man, and catches a full breath of God's forgiveness, his first impulsive wish is that he shall not get into the same distress again. After the prayer " Forgive," comes the prayer " Lead us not into temptation." This is a terse and striking way of saying, " Father, lead us, lest we fall into temptation." Give thy heart to God's leading, and the devil will keep out of the way. Keep the ear of thy conscience sensitive, so that thou mayst hear the still small voice saying to thee, " This is the way, walk ye in it." Go when grace calls thee, and where it directs thee. Christian perfection lies in this: first, to skill the conscience to hear the Spirit's gentle voice, and then to obey. In all thy ways remember Him, and He will direct thy paths. Father, lead us, lest we fall into temptation. £u>tttfymin$ Stay of &tnt "~P\ELIVER us from evil." What disaster hath -*-* the devil wrought ! What a train of evils ! The daily newspaper is the record of the world's sin and sorrow and tragedy. What instances of depravity ; what depths of hellish lust; what hor- rible murder; what sickening accidents ; what 66 Thirtieth Day of Lent. heart-breaking want ; what sin ; what crime ! No man can tell what a day may bring forth. One begins the day in prosperity, and ends it in despair. The sun rises upon a family with fair promises of peace, and sets on their broken idols. A mother kisses the red cheeks of her buoyant boy in the morning, and at eventide kisses the cold lips of his corpse. To-day our hearts swell with pride, to-morrow our heads bend in disgrace. You say this is pessimistic. Be it so. But all of these things happen every day. God in his mercy grant that they may not happen to us ! Deliver us from evil ! Whether this evil mean the Evil One, or his evil work, is not worth discussing. One is but part and parcel of the other. All evil comes from sin, and all sin comes from the devil. God deliver us from them all ! tfyxxtkty ©ay of £tnl T^vE Proftjxdis ! " Out of the depths have I -*-^ called unto thee, O Lord." These are the words of some unknown but true poet. It is a prayer ; short, direct, intense, coming from some heart of godly power ; not rhetorical, but eloquent. Not wreathing to the heavens like blue smoke to be scattered by the winds, but ejaculated from some rebounding soul, long bent, it pierces the sky like an arrow. This is a voice, unknown yet Thirty-first Day of Lent. 67 human, crying from the depth of some divine despair. Our hearts respond to its pathos. We know that it is not a perfunctory prayer that comes from the depths, but a cry. Afflictions give fervor and boldness to prayer. Affliction makes men earnest. Affliction is faith's element ; as the life-boat which decays upon the shore and in the sunshine, triumphs on the breast of storms. I believe that every true Christian can look back over the past, and see in the depth of some great darkness, the memory and light of a fervid prayer, shining like a star. And the influence of such a prayer is never lost. Having once looked from the pit into the face of God, we can never wholly forget Him. It is our Gethsemane prayers that bring the angels. &§\xty*\\x*t ©d)> of &&\L /~\H, the life and strength and hopefulness and ^-^ joyousness and buoyancy and exuberance of youth ! We are young but once. We can have but one springtime. Springtime is the time for flowers, but it is also the seedtime. We would not like to see a young farmer who feels no pleas- ure when the first trailing arbutus breaks through the snow, or whose heart does not bound when the chirp of the robin first falls on his ear. But we think it will be all the sweeter to him if the flower 68 Thirty-second Day of Lent. greets him as he rides through the woods to his work, or if he hears the bird's morning hymn as he walks behind his plough. So will the flowers and songs and loves of youth be sweeter when they come in the intervals of labor, and among the pur- poses and efforts to do something good and worthy of strong young manhood. Youth will never come back to you, but you will carry much of its light and joy with you through life. Your sum- mer, your autumn, and even the winter of your life, will be ever bringing forth the stored-up fruits of a well-spent springtime. €§\ttymonb ©a^ of &tnl WE ought to encourage whatever increases or preserves reverence among our people. We are in danger of being a nation of iconoclasts. With unholy hands men tear down the monuments of the past, and nothing escapes their insatiable curiosity. They tear to pieces whatever is lovely, as the botanist tears in tatters the beautiful flowers, or as the smith melts in his crucible the graceful vase. God forbid that the spirit of inquiry should cease ! Let it go on. Yet is not this dissection, this analysis of everything, in danger of destroying the romance and poetry of life? But you say, "Better truth than poetry." May we not have Thirty-third Day of Lent. 69 both ? Is there any reason why the practical man should not have a soul, or why the scientist should not have a human heart? What I am speaking against is that unnatural insensibility, that affected sang-froid, that dry-eyes-and-cold-heart utilitarian- ism, which says that emotion is weakness and rev- erence is womanish. They are thoroughly practi- cal. The splendid cathedral is a waste of money ; Niagara is a mere water-power ; Mammoth Cave is a mushroom garden ; the Rhine is a steamboat canal ; the Alleghanies are obstacles that ought to be dug down ; the galleries of genius ought to be converted into factories ; the performance of pro- found symphonies is a time to giggle and talk ; friendship is a relic, and love is a dream, — this is what I protest against. &§\xtyt§\xb Sag of £tn& " There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." STAND in a church spire. It has four windows, looking north, south, east, and west. From one we see the ocean, from one the city, from one the fields and farms, from the other the mountains. I once stood in a dome, with different colored glass in each window. Thus four men touching each other might see each a different scene ; a red 70 Thirty-fourth Day of Lent. ocean, a green city, blue fields, and yellow moun- tains. A rare man might climb to the top of the dome, and see the whole circle of the landscape under the white light of a pure atmosphere. But most of us look through one window, each upon a different world, each world colored by our own individuality. Four men in one street-car buy the morning papers. A moment later one is read- ing the editorial on politics, another the quotations of the cotton markat, another the society column, another a report of a Sunday-school convention. Four men sitting side by side, and each living in a separate world. One man not dreaming of many things in heaven and earth that are the very life of other men ; one looking upon the sea of com- merce ; another upon the fields of agriculture ; another upon the city of Vanity Fair, not dream- ing of the Celestial mountains. They are there, however. $$irtyfou¥f$ ©<*2 of &tnl r I ^HE walls of the great palace at Versailles are -*- covered with paintings of battles. The Bastille, Jena, Austerlitz, the Pyramids ! Agony, passion, and death ! Heroism and victory ! One grows weary with the endless profusion of art. He sits down at last on the casement of a little window. He looks out. Here, too, is a picture. Peaceful Sixth Sunday in Lent. 71 France, with its green grass, its forests and fields, and its church tower beyond the placid lake. The book of Ruth is such a little window amidst the historical pictures, the battle pieces of Israel. Through this window we see the home life which the pictures have hidden — godliness, unselfish- ness, love and peace. Is it not well for us to turn from the historic, the heroic, and, through some rift, take a swift, sweet glimpse of the pastoral and domestic scenes of life ? We read of Sisera's murder and Jephthah's vow and Samson's revenge, and we think ill of Israel. Ruth gives us another view and a truer view. It is not for books and newspapers to publish what is ordinary and com- monplace. They publish the remarkable, the won- derful. The very fact that a matter is publishable, is fair evidence that it is exceptional. Let us remember this. Let us remember that little Ruth is the rule, and not the exception. Thus, we will think better of Israel and of all the world. ^\\t§ §Mxb(ty in &znl rpHERE have been times when the drama was -*- used as a moral and religious power. A crime enacted before them may have such an effect as to make the beholders absolutely safe from the com- mittal of that crime. It is morally impossible for 72 Sixth Sunday in Lent. one to do that for which his soul has conceived a thorough revulsion. Thus were the angels of God permitted to witness the historical drama of sin and redemption. They were free moral agents. They could fall, as angels had fallen before. But they became spectators of this mighty tragedy. It unfolds and progresses scene by scene, and act by act. They see the ravages of sin, — Eve's tears, Abel's blood, Sodom's flames. Disease, suffering, and death reign. Depravity, abandoned and shame- less, holds high carnival. The plot thickens. The Son of God comes down ; the shadows of the cross fall over the scene ; pride, ingratitude, and hate reject the God of gods ; the heartless earth drinks His blood ! All these scenes the angels see. Their holy minds are filled with dismay, with aversion and heart-sick loathing of sin. Though free agents still, there is no longer even a possibility of another rebellion in heaven. If, then, this tragedy upon the stage of this very earth pro- duced an ineffaceable impression upon the intelli- gences above, what an influence for piety and purity should it have upon us, for whose happi- ness and welfare this divine drama was permitted to be enacted ? Monday before Easter. 73 r HAVE heard a criminal speak of his mother, -*- and his lip quivered like a child's. Mother ! Who gets beyond the power of that word ? Who forgets his mother? What face in the medley picture of the past is so venerated as hers ? Who weeps over our sins and misfortunes as she does ? What heart feels like hers? Whose hand soothes like hers ? Whose voice sinks to softer tones ? Can you match her fidelity, her patience, her prayers? In the darkened sick-room, in the descending shadow of death, at the lonely grave, oh, my mother, there is no soft step, no tender eye, no warm tear like thine ! To say, then, that the Church is my Mother, is to say all. She takes me at my birth. She places upon me a diadem ; the jewelled drops from the baptismal font sparkle on my brow. She teaches me the form of sound words. She-vows me to a holy life. She feeds me with angels' food. She puts in my hand the trembling fingers of my bride. She watches over the changes and chances of my life. She keeps her vigil through the painful hours of my illness. Her words of supplication go up to God with my departing soul. She meets my pale body and bears it to the grave. And ever, year by year, she cheers my bereft ones with songs of immortal 74 Tuesday before Easter. hope. Oh, my Mother, how could I live in this sinful, sorrowful world without thee ? Oh, holy Bride of Christ, I love thee, I bless thee, I thank God that He has sent thee to love me, and bless me, and to be my Mother ! ~\ \TITHOUT Christ, hope is the falsest will-o'- * * the-wisp that ever lured to death the fainting soul of man. Men and women with hearts, think of a world without Christ ! No Christ, and your mother's aged feet totter into a remorseless grave, from whose darkness no ray shines. No Christ, and the golden heads gathered around your knee are forced away forever by death's cold hand ere long. No Christ, and your own life is a quick transit, marked by successive birthday milestones — out, out into the starless deep. No Christ! Think of it when crape hangs upon the door and light goes out of the home. No Christ, and to whom shall the burdened widow go, and the down- trodden and the weary and the heavy laden ? To whom shall dying eyes be turned? Without Christ, what is sweetest and most beautiful in so- cial and domestic life is lost. Eliminate Him, and what must you do ? Tell the rosy, white-robed child to prattle its pretty prayer at your knee no Wednesday before Easter. 75 more. Close the Sunday-school and hush its joyous anthems. Hang the Christian harp upon the willows, with its "Rock of Ages" and "Jesus, lover of my soul." Clasp the Bible, the dear old book; abolish the Lord's holy day; demolish the churches, those beautiful sermons in stone ; speak no words of cheer to the dying ; utter no tender words of hope at the grave; place no Christian symbols on the coffin — no resurrection wreath, no anchor, no crown ; efface the sentiments of an- ticipation from the tomb. No Christ! Then the heroism of Christian history from stake and dun- geon is a pitiable lie ! No Christ ! Then " might is right," will be the world's law, expediency its morality, blasted love its present portion, and death eternal its certain doom. Tto&ntffoay Before <& ^ overwhelm us with the personality and in- telligence of what Mr. Herbert Spencer calls "the Power which the Universe manifests to us " ? " He that made the eye, shall He not see?" The eye was made in darkness, yet it was made for the light. Was it not made by one who knew the light ? Did not He who formed the ear in silence know the music and the sound for which the ear was made so perfect? If I realize that a knowl- edge of music is helping me the more to appreciate the works of Wagner, may I not infer that Wagner was a musician? If the increase of knowledge and science helps a Kepler or a Cuvier to appreciate the works of creation, may I not conclude that the Creator was a knowing and a thinking God? Shall not the Author of thought think ? Shall not the Giver of life live ? Is it not certain that in all these tilings, the eye, the ear, the brain, the heart, the idea precedes the realization ? " In thy book were all my members written when as yet there was none of them."' But when we speak of design, we are confronted with claims of mal-adaptation. But these are, no doubt, part of God's great plan. They are but the receding waves in the flood tide. Is not evolution itself the magnificent movement of a mighty drama developing under the hand of Fourth Sunday after Trinity. 103 God? Is not this unceasing, irresistible, upward movement the most complete, the most moral, the most religious argument from design for the unity, the goodness, and the intelligence of God ? $omt§ ^unba^ after fcrinify /CONVENIENCE is no word for a Christian's ^-^ mouth. It is a word of suspicious character. Convenience kills Christian enthusiasm and chills noble impulses. In matters of principle, conven- ience has no jurisdiction. In matters of religion it should never be consulted. There is no such thing as a convenient season for serving God. The lover might as well suspend his sighing, and wait for the course of true love to run smooth ; the politician might as well content himself to wait in obscurity until all opposition withdrew ; the engineer might as well sit down by his transit, and wait for hills to sink and rivers to run dry ; the statesman might as well wait for the day when all political problems and all social knots untie them- selves ; the soldier might as well sheathe his sword until all hostile forces ground their arms, as for the soul of man to wait for that convenient season when the flesh will cease its solicitations, when the world will no longer seduce, and when devils 104 Fifth Sunday after Trinity. shall no longer hound the pilgrim's footsteps as he treads the narrow way. As long as the soul is in the body ; as long as the body inhabits the earth ; and as long as the earth is accessible to the powers of hell, there will be no convenient season for man to break the bands of sin, and embrace the riches and secure the happiness which belong to follow- ers of the Crucified. God's approval must be sought in the face of inconvenience, and won often at the cost of great tribulation. A GIRL once, sleeping in the open night, dreamed that the stars were jewels flashing from the angels' crowns. Mars burned from one angelic brow like a garnet, and Jupiter blazed from another's like a sapphire, and the clusters of Orion and Pleiades gleamed from others like the corusca- tions of a ro} T al diadem. Thinking herself in heaven, she placed her hand upon her brow and found a starless crown. "Why," she cried, " does no radiant star adorn my crown ? " " Because," said one who stood near her, "stars in an angel's crown represent souls rescued: you are here through God's rnercy, but 3-ou have brought no one with you ; therefore your crown is starless." This Fifth Sunday after Trinity. 105 dream puts the most charitable and hopeful face upon inactivity. It makes it inherit a crown — though that crown was starless. The Bible makes inactivity inherit the curse of " wicked and sloth- ful servant." There are times in men's lives when apathy is positive sin ; when it is selfish to be passive, ungenerous to be inactive, soulless to be indifferent, and criminal to be neutral. Is idleness innocent when in the opening springtime the hungry earth is crying to the farmer for Iris seed ? Is idleness innocent when in the springtime of youth, the seedtime of life, the opening heart, and plastic mind, and moulding character are crying to parent and teacher, "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation" ? Is inactivity ever sinless to the soul while earth's probation is the seedtime that sows for the harvest of eternity ; when life is the spirit's springtime ; when the real self is taking its shape and fixing its destiny for the great beyond, and when man's activities on earth shall reap the summer bloom and autumnal fruit of heaven ; and his unfaithfulness shall reap the winter's blast of endless want and woe ? Is sleep safe while enemies sow tares ? Is apathy harmless while thorns are growing? Is indiffer- ence innocence when pestilence is sowing its seed, or when fate " lets slip the dogs of war " ? Is it less criminal while fatal error and blighting sin, while wicked men and vicious devils, are sowing thorns in the field of God and spreading pestilence 106 Sixth Sunday after Trinity. among the minds of men ; and threatening violence to every institution which makes religion safe, our country free, our homes happy, and our lives a' blessings? $\xt§ $unb gunb&y affer trinity. TN church work it is generally the case that those who do the least work do the most com- plaining. You hear them say, " The church is in a bad way, the people are unsocial, the mission work is feeble, the singing is not congregational, the services are cold, the finances are unsatisfactory." Even if these things are true, no church member has a right to say so until he has won the right by doing everything in his power to remedy them. All this reminds me of a little incident of my college days. Henry Brown went away, and asked Barnwell to take care of some pots of flowers in his room. In a few days Barnwell wrote Brown a postal card, " Dear Brown, your flowers are all Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. 115 dying ; I think it is for lack of water." Now, I say, if the Church of God needs watering, in the name of God, men and women, go and water it. If the church is unsocial, do your part to make it social. If it needs mission work, stop talking and go to work. If the responses are cold, lift your voices to make them warm. Join in the singing ; deny yourself to swell the finances. Take a hand your- self where help is needed. If every faultfinder and drone in the Kingdom would say, " This is largely my fault," and then arouse himself to build before his own door, the scene would remind one of the resurrection which Ezekiel saw in the vallejr of dry bones. $o\ixtwntfy ^unbay after trinity. n^HAT which in the darkness seems but one -*- talent of silver may in the light prove to be a talent of gold. A woman in Lincolnshire thought it a small thing that she was teaching a dull little boy his figures; but that boy was Isaac Newton, and those figures reached the stars. The obscure teacher at Eisleben esteemed very lightly, no doubt, his school of peasant boys, but among them was one who should shake off the shackles of Europe. The names of the men are forgotten 116 Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity. who taught Shakespeare to write, who gave Rubin- stein his first music lesson, who showed Titian how to mix colors, who gave Christopher Wren his first lesson in architecture. Those men built wiser than they knew who brought John Wesley and Francis Xavier and Hugh Latimer to Christ. It is thrilling to think of the Sunday-school classes where there were boys who answered, when the roll was called, to the names of William Muhlen- burg, Charles Spurgeon, William Gladstone, Henry Liddon, Frederick Farrar, James Garfield, James McCosh. Schiller, in his Song of the Bell, makes the master of the foundry encourage an exhausted moulder in the ditch by telling him that the work which he is doing in that dark ditch will one day speak from the eminence of towers, with tongues of eloquence and melody to thronging multitudes. Who can tell ? Perhaps the influence of the hum- ble home shall one day speak from the eminence of a noble life, with the eloquence of a Christian character and the melody of a pious spirit. Per- haps the lessons of the Sunday-school will speak from the pulpit with the eloquence of truth, or from the altar with the melody of devotion. Per- haps the work of the quiet day school Mill speak in senate halls with a statesman's wisdom and a patriot's eloquence. Yes, and the work of the humble Christian shall be blessed. It may be dene in the darkness of obscurity or suffering, but Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. 117 it -will speak like Schiller's bells from the eminence of heaven's towers, sending out their voices of praise and music and joy to swell the hallelujah chorus of harpers' harps and seraphs' songs. ffitttxdfy ^imba^ tftex trinity T3 Y the beautiful parable of the Good Samaritan - L ^ it was not Christ's purpose to cast any re- flection upon the ecclesiastical orders of his day. Nor did he intend to approve of the doctrines of the Samaritans. But by the heartless neglect of men of holy profession on the one hand, and by the simple charity of the heretic on the other, he desired to exalt the beauty and grace of charity, by showing us that its absence robs the holiest office of its sanctity, and that its presence covers the multitude of sins. Without charity the priest's pure robes are slurred with ignominy, and with it Jim Bludso's charred and rugged form is glorified by a halo of light. The parable of the Good Samaritan is intended to rebuke mere theoretical religion, which contents itself with paper schemes for the reduction of poverty or the relief of dis- tress. It rebukes the formalist's religion, which is satisfied with the punctilious performance of out- side show and ritual observance. It rebukes ascetic religion, that one-eyed piety which sees 118 Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity. only God and forgets man. Theories and forms are most valuable if they are means to an end. If not, they are child's toys in men's hands. The value of theories and rituals and forms is as scaf- folding upon which to build holy lives and practi- cal beneficence. fk\%teto\t§ ^xxxCbai tfttx trinity. r I ^HE great mass of men believe in papal infalli- -*- bility, but they do not place the triple crown on the head of Leo XIII. They place it, each one on his own head. Of course, there are different degrees of loyalty to this infallible I, but few are altogether free from it. It is hard for a man to dispossess himself of the idea that he is the centre of the universe, and that things are far and near as they are far and near to him. Thus things are important as they are important to him. The far- off star seems smaller than the neighboring moon. The billions of people in a remote planet are of less consequence than the few people in my village. The shipwreck of a thousand Chinese is of less consequence than a case of diphtheria in my family. Thus man considers himself the centre of all things, and he measures out from himself. He is the starting-point and the standard of measure- ment. This natural tendency, if permitted to grow, will extend not only to physical, but to Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. 119 social and moral things. Soon he will measure men and creeds and truth, and even God himself, by his own stature. Thus men will be good if they are good to him. They are wise if they agree with him. They are on the right side if they are on his side. And even God is near or far, good or cruel, as the ways of Providence meet with his approval or inclinations. When one has gotten to that point, and many have, he has gotten to such contraction and narrow-mindedness that, in com- parison with it, the most sectarian bigotry would be delightful liberality. "1 TERE is a large vineyard. Many men and -* — *- maidens are busy on the hillside. They are coming and going, and singing the vintage songs. Here is the master. He sees that the rules are kept. There must be no disorder, no profanity. Each must keep his place. The bas- kets must be clean. The master is counting the baskets that are brought to the vats. After each name he writes the number of baskets brought. At last the week is ended, and the men and maidens come to receive their pay. Here among them is a man whom the master has been watching day by day. He kept his basket clean ; he kept 120 Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity. his place ; he used no profane language ; he en- joyed the companionship of the others ; he joined merrily in the vintage songs. But in all this time he gathered no grapes. " What is 3* our name ? " says the master. " Menalque," says the man. "I find your name upon the book," replies the master, "but I do not find that you gathered a single cluster ; there is, therefore, no pay for you." " No pay? " says the man. " What have I done wrong? I have kept my place, used no improper language, kept my basket clean, and joined heartily in the songs." " You did no wrong," says the master, " but you did no work. There is nothing for you." " No pay for me ! " exclaimed the man. " Why, that is the one thing I came in the vineyard for. The pay constituted my chief interest in it." Is not this the history of thousands in the Lord's vineyard ? They come, their names are upon the book. They do no special wrong ; they do not swear, or steal, or commit adultery. They break no rule. They sing the vintage songs. They hear sermons, if they are entertaining. They attend church, if it is quite convenient. But are they in any true sense laborers in God's vineyard ? Have they done any honest work for Christ and his church? Have they performed one hard task, done one un- pleasant duty, spoken one brave word, lifted one fallen sinner, lightened one heavy burden, crucified Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity. 121 one loved comfort, or done any one thing or series of things that would justly entitle them to the name of laborer, or the hope of reward when the great day of reckoning comes ? r I THE most remarkable figure in human history -*- is the Carpenter of Nazareth, standing among the shavings of his humble shop, in an isolated village, and saying without passion or enthusiasm, " Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away."' With no agencies with which to accomplish his designs, he announces that He is a king, and that his kingdom shall have no end. This penniless, powerless, almost friendless Man declares that this kingdom shall be co-extensive with the earth as well as with time. His followers shall be, not in- dividuals, but nations. " Go ! " He says to men equally provincial and obscure and poor. " Go into all the world, and make disciples of all nations." He admits that his principles will not be popular, that his laws shall antagonize what men love, and oppose their selfish instincts ; but He calmly fore- tells the time when his cause shall triumph, and when He, the Nazarene, and the hungry, homeless 122 Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity. peasant, shall become the centre of the world's thought, and the object of its affection. "We have become so accustomed to all this that we forget how wonderful it is. We forget the poverty and obscurity of this Carpenter. We forget the extent of his conquests and his influence. The proud nineteenth century, progressive America and rich Europe, must concede that this provincial Jew is influencing the world to-day from end to end ; and that, with all the world's advancement in learning, enlightenment, invention, and sci- ence, his name is a living power compared with which the names of boasted moderns and the names of all earth's great ones are but the favorite playthings of an age. Whatever might have been the case had we lived in the days of Peter and Nicodemus and Caiaphas, we are now no longer ashamed to call the Nazarene our King. The car- penter's coat can no longer hide his divinity. T^REDERICK THE GREAT'S biographer con- -*- siders one of his best claims to that title was his courage to say in a military despatch, " We have lost a great battle, and it is all my fault." It takes greatness of mind and nobility of heart to confess personal blame for real disaster, when the blame Twentieth Sunday after Trinity. 123 might be thrown on others. It takes a generous heart to be a just judge when our own interests are at the bar, or to concede the fairness of the decision which presses the laurel crown upon another's brow instead of mine ; to believe in the justice of the world when it fails to appreciate what we think ourselves to be, and to approve its good sense when we are not taken into the lap of its favor. It takes a great mind and a broad mind to look first to its own life for the cause of failure, before it looks to the fault of others. It takes a brave and a wise heart to realize that behind the clouds the sun is still shining; that the world moves on after age has blinded my eyes so that I cannot see its progress ; that God is good in the midst of personal disaster, and wise when my fa- vorite purposes are thwarted ; and to cry out in times of darkness and doubt, " I must decrease ; but Christ, and right, and goodness, and justice, and love must increase more and more, until the perfect day." $tetnftt{$ ^unba^ after £rintf^ THE universal brotherhood of man is a new and original doctrine of Christ. The nearest approach to it that I have been able to find in the classics is where Plato says, " All of you in the state are undoubtedly brethren." But even here 124 Twentieth Sunday after Trinity. he confines the brotherhood to the state. To the Greek, outsiders were barbarians. To the Jew, outsiders were Gentiles. With Christ there were no outsiders. There were no conventional barriers, no race obstructions, no color line, no ecclesiastical fence, no sectarian hedge, no national wall, no ocean's breadth that could confine his love or cir- cumscribe his sympathy. Man is my brother. What a splendid conception of man ! What a blessing to learn this of Christ, and to feel our own souls grow and broaden under its influence ! How it sweeps the cobwebs from the brain ; how it throws open the windows of the heart, letting the light in, dispelling the close, foul odors of selfishness, frightening the skeletons from narrow closets, and illuminating the dark corners of pri- vate grief, to feel that " A man's a man for a 1 that! " How the power and beauty of this Christian hu- manity lifts us above and bears us over all distance and all time, over continent's stretch and ocean's storm, over race prejudice and sectarian bigotry and political passion, and social caste and selfish love ! Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity. 125 £l»mfy*fiMrf ^vmba^ after £rintf^ SOME of our stiff-starched, highly moral infidels have made a great discoveiy. They have found some unclean animals in the ark. They have discovered some goats in the sheep pasture. They arch their sanctimonious eyebrows and talk about the hypocrites in the church. The truth is, there are no greater hypocrites on earth than these fellows who think they are so good that they need neither God nor Saviour. But what of this dis- covery, so startling, so damaging ? What of these hypocrites in the church? Is the charge true? It is, if the Bible is true. These astounding ex- posures of the church's delinquencies, pointed out with ill-concealed pleasure by unbelieving Phari- sees, were foretold by Jesus, and nailed as a devil's trick, more than eighteen centuries ago. The parable of the tares is devoted to this very subject. When the tares, which at first are beautiful, begin to bear fruit, heresy, worldliness, intemperance, fraud, right in the heart of the holy church, the community is shocked, the tattling wires whisper. The very sensation made is a tribute to the church. Satan's friends rejoice. The ethical, sesthetical, agnostical Pharisee draws his skirts about him. The servants of God are made sick at heart. Dis- appointed, frightened, mortified, they are driven 126 Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity. to their Master, and cry, " Sir, didst thou not sow good seed in thy field ? From whence, then, hath it tares ? " Christ says it is the devil. " An enemy hath done this." Not God's decree, not the church's fault, but the devil. Christ exoner- ates his servants and puts this thing where it belongs. It is a campaign trick. It is wonderful how men have been caught by this shallow device ; especially when the trap was so explicitly pointed out by our Lord. The church is no more unworthy because of its hypocrites than money is valueless because of counterfeits, than the legal profession is worthless because of its pettifoggers, than the medical profes- sion is useless because of its quacks, than trade is untrustworthy because of its fraudulent bankrupts. &)»zntymionb ^unbay after £rinify /~^vNE charm of biography is its exhibition of ^^ great men's inner lives. It shows us the human heart behind the scenes of public life and genius. This is the charm of the Gospel. This is the power of Christianity. We no longer follow a metaphysical deity hidden in effulgence. God is not presented as a conception, but as a life — a life from the womb to the tomb. This life gives concrete form to divine attributes. After I have Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. 127 seen Niagara I have a new thought of grandeur. After I know Jesus I have a new thought of good- ness and compassion. " The light of the knowl- edge of the glory of God is in the face of Jesus Christ." Here is the value of the incarnation. Here is its necessity. Of course, this coalition of deity and humanity is wonderful and inexplicable. But it is not more wonderful nor more incredible than the mysterious union of soul and body. Emmanuel, God with us, is Christ's conquering name. It is the man-God that has conquered the world, and overcome its doubts and pride and swords. It is the God-man that is the central truth of the Gospel, and the highest manifestation of the love and condescension of God. &)ntnty't§\xb ^utrtx^ <*ffe* trinity TjTIGH among the Alps, at the foot of the great -■ — *~ Rhone glacier, there flows forth a bold stream from the moraine of boulders and sand and broken ice. This is the beginning of the River Rhone. It then looks like a stream of dirty milk. I followed this boiling, turbid torrent a hundred miles. With frantic fury it plunges along its course, bearing its burden of dirt — always discol- ored, always vehement, whether thundering over the boulders, or crashing down amidst the Alpine 128 Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. pines, or sweeping through the grassy meadows of the high Swiss valley, or hastening past the houses of Martigny or St. Maurice. At last a little less boisterous, but still impure and discolored, it dis- charges itself into Lake Geneva. At the other end of this crescent lake the river resumes its career to the sea. It is a beautiful lake, indeed, that the Rhone has rested in ; so serene, so translucent, so deep, so blue ! So picturesque with its vine-clad hills, and its nestling villages, and its blue peaks and its distant glimpses of the snow crown of Mont Blanc ! So historic with its Chillon, and its Veve}\ and its Lausanne ! And here is Geneva, with its John Calvin's church and its Rousseau's island and its bridges. Here the Rhone resumes its course to the sea. Let us stand here on this bridge, and watch the river flow out of the lake. How swift and strong it glides by the stone arches ! Still full of spirit and energy and life, but clear as crystal. No gritty foam, no grimy impurity, no burden of mud and sand. In its rapid and trans- parent depths every brown pebble and every white shell shines upon the bottom. Beautiful river ! pure, unsullied, sparkling, powerful, rejoicing, crystalline ! Now, then, what Lake Geneva is to the Rhone, religion should be to man. Man, with feverish heart, with tumultuous thoughts and doubts, with terrible temptations, with soiled soul and turbid life, with wild upliftings of hope and black chasms Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity. 129 of despair ! Let the Gospel be your Lake Geneva. The Gospel with its tranquil depths, with its sunny hopes, with its mirrored mountain tops, and skies of eternal blue ! Let your turbulent soul rest in the Gospel and then go on its strong way rejoicing, — its forces not abated, but chastened ; no part of your life destroyed, but all of it conse- crated, all of it purified, all of it turned into one pure, strong stream of manly devotion to truth, righteousness, and God. Then will your life be like the River Rhone below the lake, where it marks a broad belt of fertility, prosperity, and peace through the fair fields of France ; until it is lost at last in the purple waters of the south, where ceaseless summer smiles upon the leaping, laugh- ing waves of the jubilant sea. £i#enfy*fout#5 ^unba^ after trinity* HPHERE are about eight millions of sermons preached in the United States every year. One would imagine that the whole land would bow before such an effort. It reminds me of the first battle I ever saw. I was a boy and only a spectator. I thought everybody would be killed. There were such thousands of guns fired, such clouds of smoke and dust, such frightful noise and 130 Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity. yells. But when it was all over only one man was dead and a dozen wounded. So on Sunday night, when the last reverberation of the pulpit has died out, what multitudes remain as they were before. Now this is a great evil, this hearing of sermons, prayers, and hymns, with unmoved hearts and un- moved wills. The services become a mere perform- ance, an attraction, an entertainment. The congre- gation becomes an audience. The people are critics instead of participants. The liar praises a sermon on lying ; the slanderer is amused at the good hits on slander. A faithful sermon on sin is preached, and the sinners go chatting gayly home, discussing the preacher's theology, his rhetoric, his delivery ; anything but the question, " What must I do to be saved? " We have a thousand men interested in theology where there is one interested in personal religion. Vast numbers discuss theoretical re- ligion, many discuss it well. They are walking concordances. " In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text ? " Zealous for the progress of some ecclesiastical or- ganization, bigoted in some dogmatic system, they care little for their own souls and sins, or for the nourishment of their own piety. No doubt, it was to such as these that the Lord alluded when he closed the Sermon upon the Mount. Their mag- Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity. 131 nificent superstructure of ecclesiasticism will be found to be built upon the sand, and will fall with terrible ruin in that day and hour when real and vital religion is needed. £tt>enty*ftf^ giux&ty after {trinity. "IV /TANY years ago my esteemed friend Col. Boyd -^-*-*- of Wytheville, Virginia, gave to a French- man, by the name of Hartmann, a rocky hillside. Everywhere the hard, blue limestone protruded. A more unpromising garden could not be imagined. In the spring the warmth and moisture made the hillside green for a little while, but the first drought scorched it dry and brown. But Hart- mann worked away, patiently, perseveringly, syste- matically. He dug out the rocks, he deepened the soil, he irrigated from the neighboring brook. Years passed, and the " Frenchman's Garden," as everybody called it, was the most beautiful, the most picturesque, the most fruitful, the most profitable garden in all of that part of Virginia. So, after all, that peculiar kind of human hearts which the Lord described as " stony places " are not absolutely hopeless. These shallow hearts may be deepened. This sentimental religion may be enriched. The Word of God may be culti- 132 St. Andrew's Day. vatecl until it grows to be a fruitful plant in even these unpromising lives. From being a mere enthusiasm, or a dead orthodoxy, religion may become a life, a deep-rooted life, a life hid with Christ in God. $L (Rnbtitf* ®ty. A NDREW was a quiet man, overshadowed -*--*- by his bold and boisterous brother Simon. Yet it was his quiet influence that brought that impetuous fisherman to the Lord. His devout life found Jesus first. Then he did that quiet and beautiful thing of carrying his religion to his own home. As soon as he was convinced that Jesus was the Messiah, Andrew " findeth his own brother Simon." This is all the more beautiful because it is so uncommon. How very rare it is that a man is a missionary in his own household! Is it be- cause the people know him too well ? A man is ashamed to preach to those who have seen him lose his temper over a badly cooked breakfast. A woman hesitates to talk of heaven to those who know how devoted she is to earth. Yet St. Andrew, with his quiet reality, with his unpretentious gen- uineness, went home and carried the good news to those nearest and dearest to him. And such was his character that they believed him. Simon did St. Thomas's Day. 133 not doubt his brother's judgment. He went with him at once to Jesus. The first man ever brought to Christ, and Andrew brought him. Immediately the more brilliant, the more impetuous, the more daring brother goes to the front of the sacred nar- rative. A:id Andrew continued his work unher- alded and unsung, until on the lonely Euxine shores he won the martyr's crown on St. Andrew's cross. He was no meteor flashing through the historic sky, but a well-trimmed lamp. Who can tell, but God, the influence and good, the glory and peace, of this faithful, humble life ? $t &§om$t (purification* "YTTHAT a scene for painters, what a theme for poets, what a text for preachers, is the Purification of the Virgin! There is the aged Simeon, who, like the old covenant, could not °die till he had seen the Lord ; singing his Nunc Di- mittis, that dying-swan note of Old Testament psalmody. There was the holy Anna, a widow indeed, the first of that countless throng of faith- ful women who should proclaim the Christ. There was the blessed Mary, who came in her pious pov- erty to offer her cloves in the temple, and in reality offered the Lamb of God. There was the Holy Child, a helpless babe, symbol of the coming "New," as Simeon and Anna were types of the going -Old." Rubens and Guido Reni, Paul St. Matthias's Day. 139 Veronese and Titian, Raphael and Rembrandt, have drawn inspiration from these holy scenes and left in living colors their thoughts about them. May they also inspire us to living deeds ! May the Holy Spirit lead us to the Temple of God ; may we meet the Lord there. May it be our day of purification. May we all at last with Simeon sing, " Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." r~PHE most that we know of this apostle is that he took the place of one who failed in life's mission. Matthias was the successor of Judas. Man is honored — Paul and Judas, you and I, are honored with a place in the great plan of God. If we are faithful, our names are wrought into the eternal fabric. If we are faithless, God does his work with other agents. He can raise up the stones into Abraham's seed. He can make the stones cry out, if men are dumb. The work goes on ; it does not cease when our connection with it ceases. Other names take the place on the roll of God's co-workers where our names were blotted out. He calls us to labor in the vineyard, not because he needs workers, but because we need work. Ourselves are the greatest losers by our failure, the greatest gainers by our fidelity. 140 The Annunciation. &§t (ftnnunciafton. TT7~HILE Gabriel winged his strong flight from heaven to earth, many a Jewish woman's heart fluttered with the hope that the Messiah would be born of her. Many a proud mansion would have welcomed Heaven's herald then. There were gorgeous palaces in the world, in those days, that could have received even an angel with sumptuous honors. There was the magnificence of Herod the Great, and the splendor of Augustus. But " God hath chosen the weak things of the world to con- found the things that are mighty." Past Rome's grandeur and Jerusalem's pride, the angel swept on to the nestling mountain hamlet, to the humble home, to the blessed Virgin, and there announced God's gift to Mary, to Israel, and to mankind. With all the help of beautiful legends and the in- spiration of Italy's art we still fall short in fancy of the greatness and beauty of this scene — this angel's visit to this handmaid of the Lord, Heaven's chosen instrument of the Holy Ghost. I think all Christians may join in the angel's salutation, and heartily say at least this much of the Ave Maria, — " Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb ! " St. Mark's Day. 141 "TT is an interesting thing to watch an ocean ship get out from London docks. How helpless she is ! She cannot use her machinery. Her sails are furled. She is pushed forward and backward. She is pulled along by puffing tugs. She stops to let other vessels pass. She waits through weary hours. She moves on again. But she is hindered and limited and retarded. But some progress is rewarding her perseverance. She is getting more room. She begins to ply her engines. But she must go slowly. She must be cautious. Then there is more liberty ; there are fewer obstructions and fewer conditions. The river is wider. The city is being left behind, with its din and its sin. The fresh air revives the sailor. He unfurls his can- vas. He moves steadily on to the line where river fades into sea. He hears the music of the surf beating upon the sand. He sees the white-caps marching across the blue prairies of ocean. And at last the gallant ship, emancipated, seems to stretch herself, and expand herself, and swell and sway and bow in ecstasy, as she speeds her way over the billowy fields of her native heath and boundless home. Thus it is with the soul that is escaping from the trammels of the flesh, and the limitations and the conditions imposed upon it by 142 Sts. Philip and James's Day. the world. How slow its progress is at first! How it is pushed forward and falls backward ! How crippled is the soul's splendid machinery ! how awkward its movements ! Its sails are furled. It must submit to be helped by things smaller than itself — by trivial rules and puerile helps. It stops. It waits. It stands to for obstructions. But it moves on. It makes a little progress. The channel is getting wider. The shores of earth are getting further away. There is more room, more freedom. The engines move. The sails are thrown out. The fresh air of grace gladdens the sailor, and tells him that the city of sin is fading in the distance. The ocean of liberty is reached at last. The Lord takes the helm. The Spirit of God fills the sails, and then, emancipated and free, unloosed from the devil's imprisonment, unshackled from the habits and slavery of flesh, unlimited and unconditioned by the world's conventionalities, the glad soul rejoices on the bosom of God, which is the soul's ocean, which is the soul's home. TF a man has sinned, he has sinned. It is done. And nothing can make the fact not a fact. The sin has been committed. It has gone upon record. It has become forever a part of the man's history. It is woven into the very warp of his Sts. Philip and James's Day. 143 past. The materialist's mud can hide it only for a time. The flowers of the infidel's rhetoric can cover it but for the moment. Beneath flowers and mud, the sin is still engraved on the very adamant of fact. Macbeth may incarnadine the multitudi- nous seas, his royal spouse may use all the per- fumes of Arabia ; but the fact remains indelible, imperishable. The promise of future good behav- ior may bless the future, but it cannot make the past not to have been. Recent discoveries have revealed the carcasses of prehistoric animals thrown out at the foot of a Siberian glacier. These animals were preserved unchanged, unseen, and unknown, for untold centuries, beneath the frozen mud and the solid ice of the never-hasting, never-resting, ever-moving glacier. And when, at last, these long-preserved carcasses came out to the light and warmth and sun, they sent forth their horrid stench. Thus sin may be buried under the mud of materialism, and be frozen in indifference and hidden in oblivion for years and centuries and cycles, but the on-moving glacier of time will at last reveal them to the light and glory of the Judgment Day, and then will they stink in the nostrils of God, and of angels, and of all the assem- bled multitudes. 144 St. Barnabas' s Day. fit (g&tnafas's £><*£♦ r HAVE no doubt that Barnabas stood very high— even among the very highest of those men who won the world for Christ in the apostolic times. As a living power, as an active factor, he is much more prominent than most of the apostles, and is inferior only to St. Peter and St. Paul! The very title that the disciples gave him, " Bar- nabas," or " Son of Consolation," shows what he was to them. With a personal presence which made the Greeks at Lystra take him for Jupiter, with a liberality which laid his fortune at the apostles' feet, with the scriptural knowledge which belongs to a Levite, with broad sympathies and fervid eloquence, he must, indeed, have been a great consolation to that feeble and struggling band, which had just faced the appalling task of evan- gelizing a world. Even after eighteen centuries of work, after so much has been done, we feel that it would still be a great consolation if young men of wealth and beauty and learning and eloquence would give themselves, as Barnabas did, to the ministry of Christ, and the promotion of that one cause which is most worthy of noble gifts and exalted talents. The Nativity of St. John the Baptist. 145 tfyt (Ttaftiri^ of fkt 3o§n t$t (g ®cy. TN the wonderful cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise in Paris, are many interesting tombs, — the tombs of Abelard and Heloise, of Moliere and Racine, of Madame Rachel and Talma, of Balzac and Thiers, and the grassy grave of Marshal Ney. There is also a tomb to the unknown dead, the untombed dead. Upon this monument are hung the garlands of those who have died, whose graves they do not know or cannot reach. And this 156 Ember Days. tomb is always covered with fresh flowers or im- mortelles. Now I have thought that among the festivals of the Church this All Saints' Day is our monument to the unheralded dead. We have St. Peter's Day and St. John's Day and the others. But here is All Saints' Day. How many saints there have been, some known to us, who have never been nor ever will be heralded as the great of earth ! Unhonored and unsung, their good deeds were interred with their bones. Stimulated by no applause and sustained by no hope of fame, the}' were patient in tribulation and faithful unto death. No marble marks the spot where their ashes rest. But this festival is their monument, and the pra}-ers and praises which are offered on it are their wreaths. These lives and deaths are dear to God ; and we thank Him for the good examples of all his saints, who, having finished their course in faith, do now rest from their labors. SOME men have disbelieved Christianity because it makes the infinite God condescend to the trifles of earth. Would we discredit a biography because it described the mailed hand of a warrior rocking the cradle of a sleeping infant, or if it told Ember Days. 157 of a keen critic listening with real pleasure to the broken babble of a child, or of a king who smiled at war and yet stoops to pick up his prattling tot ? The king is more kingly, the critic and warrior honor themselves, by showing the paternal instinct for the tender and weak. I have seen an iron ball weighing a ton let fall a great distance upon an iron safe and crush it to pieces. But that ball was incapable of gentleness. Much more interesting and intelligent is the great steam-hammer that can strike hard enough to crush the iron safe, and can strike gently enough to drive a pin without bend- ing it. So the blind force of blind fate, while terrible to think about, is not so great a conception as the Almighty God, who is at the same time the Almighty Father ; great in the storm's blast, and gentle in the snownake's fall ; engineering the fields of heaven, staking off the stars, building the spires of grass, and coloring the forget-me-not. God is great enough to have complete control of his own greatness. God is great enough to move the whole of his infinite love down to the delicate point of sympathy that touches the heart-ache of an orphan child. 158 Rogation Days. (Rotation ©a^s. f"^\ OD always works by agents, and sends his ^-^ gifts through appointed channels. By law He makes the seeds to grow, and worlds to wax and wane. The lightnings are his agents, the clouds are his channels, the fields are the tables from which He feeds the world. So in the universe of grace God works by means. By meditation the thoughts are winged from earth to heaven. By prayer the soul goes thither with the thoughts. By the Scriptures the heart is made wise. By self-examination the right road is kept, and the distance is marked. By charity life is imparted to dead faith. By the Holy Communion we feed on heavenly food, and hold high concourse with angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven. All means of grace are God-given, and all must be used. We have no right to be capri- cious, like children who would make a meal on sweets if we would let them. . Means of grace must be used in due proportion. One may medi- tate too much. One may pray ineffectively. Prayer will be imperfect if unmixed with other means of grace. Without the Scriptures it will lack faith and fervor. Without self-examination it will lack aim. Without meditation it will be shallow. Without public worship it will be selfish. Without the Holy Communion its very life will be imperilled. Thanksgiving Day. 159 £#anib$ii?in$ ©<*£♦ TT is wonderful how we forget our blessings, for -L the simple cause that they are so constantly supplied, so abundantly given. They are common. Who thinks of being thankful for sunlight — sun- light so simple, so common, so universal? Go into Mammoth Cave and spend two or three days. It is beautiful and strange. As the chemical lights flare up at Grand Dome, or Gothic Chapel, or the Star Chamber, or Echo River, we exclaim, How beautiful, how weird, how sublime ! But when the visit is over, and you come to the cavern's mouth, you are captivated by the sunlight and the colors of the world that shine and shimmer with- out — so brilliant, so dazzling, so gorgeous, so glo- rious ! Bless God for the sunlight, and the green grass, and the sailing clouds, and the blue sky, so abundant, yet so good and so beautiful. Let us not fail to be mindful of blessings because they are sent to us with regularity and lavished upon us in bounty. INDEX. A scene with lessons, 138. Almighty gentleness, 156. An evidence of Christianity, 137. Angels, 71, 152. Ascension, 92, 93. Assimilated religion, 22. Atheism, 40, 53, 99. Atonement, 78. Averages, 25, 47. Bible, 10, 127. Brotherhood, 97, 109, 123. Building, 34, 49. Catholicity, 123. Character-building, 49. Charity, 117. Childhood, 14, 15, 16. Christ and His Prophet, 145. Christ distorted, 39. Christ's Divinity, 84, 121. Christ's Humanity, 16, 126. Christ, Souship of, 81. Christianity and children, 15. Christianity, if not what, 40. Christianity is unselfishness, 19. Christless world, 74. Church, our mother, 73. Communion of saints, 149. Conscience, 13. Conserving power of the Gospel, 127. Convenient season, 103. Creation and redemption, 86, 98. Criminal inactivity, 104. Critics, 53, 114. Croakers, 108. Daily bread, 62. Daily growth, 51. Damnation, 23, 30. Day of small things, 115. Death and dying, 90. Death-bed repentance, 52. Deception of praise, 41. Deliver us from evil, 05. De profundis, 66. Dignity of possibilities, 115. Dives, Ecclesiastical, 109. Divinity of Christ, 84, 121. Doubt, 133. Dream of a Christless world, 74. Editor of the Bible, 10. End of the year, 17. Evening shadows, 154. Evidence, 121, 137. Excessive foundations, 54. Fasting, 31. Field for talents, 144. Flowers for the living, 18. Forbidden fruit sweet, 32. Forgiveness, 63. Forms, 117. Friendship, 88, 144, 153. Gifted youth, 144. Giving, 55. Gloom unchristian, 108, God, 98, 99, 101, 102. God knowable, 101. God not an object of charity, 55. God personal, 102. Good Samaritan, 97, 117. (ireatness of soul, 122. Growth, 51. Hallowed be thy name, 59. Handmaid of the Lord, 140. Happiness, 24. Headstone of the corner, 75. Heaven, a negative aspect, 80. Heaven, realizing, 45, 80. Hell, 23, 30. Holy Communion, 77. Holy Spirit, 95, 96, 97. Holy Trinity, 98. Hope, 21,26. Humanity of Christ, 126. Hunger, 42. Hypocrites, 125. Immortality of sin, 142. Incarnation, 14. Infallibility, 118. Inspiration, 10. Intuition, 44. Judgment, 9. Keystone, 75. Lend us not into temptation, 64. 162 Index. Libertv, 36, 56. Life struggle, 85. Lord's Praver, 58-65. Lost bv hope, 26. Lost, The, 27. Love, 37. Making friends, 88. Manliness 28. Martyrdom, 134. Means of grace, 158. Meeting beyond, 82, 88. Memory, 77, 111. Ministry, 12. Missions, 19. Modern tactics, 46. Money, 151. Motherhood, 14. Negative and positive religion, 47, 104,119. Negative Heaven, 80. One talent, 115. Our Father, 58. Our mother, 73. Pari-h critics, 114. Pedestals, 41. Permanence of sin, 142. Pompeii, 93. Possibilities, 115. Pot of passion. 33. Practical repentance, 35. Praise. 41. Prayer. 22, 156, 158. Preaching and hearing, 129. Preaching at home, 132. Public opinion, 25. Rank and file, 150. Raw material of the clergy, 146. Reckless jov, 106. Religion not for women only, 28, 57. Hepentance, 35. Reproof resented, 12. Resurrection, 75, 81, 82, 83, 85. Reverence, 68. Scientific fasting, 31. Secret sins, 33. Seed time, 67, 104. Sentiment, 68. Selfishness, 109. Self the centre, 118. Silent conflict, 46. Sin, permanence of, 142. Sin's dramatic effect upon angels, 71. Slander, 113. Sonship of Christ, 81. Stony ground, 131. Strength in weakness, 112. Struggling out, 141. Success and failure, 48, 147. Sunday and Sabbath, 86. Superior splendor of the invisible; 149. 152. Sympathy, 16. Temptation, 41, 96. Thanksgiving, 159. Theories, 117. Thy kingdom come, 60. Thv will be done, 61. Time, 17. Triumph over money, 151. Undue prominence of evil, 70. Unequal chances. 9. Unknown dead, 155. Unprofitable servant, 119. Unseen realities, 69, 152. Value of appetite, 42. Vanitas vauitatum, 93. Wastage, 129. Wasted lives, 48. Watch, 50. Weak faith, 133. Wealth, 151. Whiskey, 107. Women protecting men, 57. Workmen and the work, 139 c World and the soul, 141. Wreckage, 135. 0*' «*3 l4£ WS qffi?.