^.--^ h -^o. REESE LIBRARY ! UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. Received. .....U^'HDkJUJ iSsJ^ j Accessions i\V7.._>?50r33 Shelf A o. ^\Sf y A^^ y r^ ^ ^ ee^yr^ff / Ly^^^ti^'^^ /^iy ^ ^f t. y t^iAJ y^% ^^i^Kf J I THOUGnTS ox PERSONAL RELIGION, BEING A TREATISE THE CHKISTIAN LIFE ni m TWO CHIEF ELEMENTS, DEVOTION AND PRACTICE. BY EDWARD MEYRIOKGOULBURN, D.D., rCBBKIfDAQT OF ST. PATTL^B, ^])4»iatBP19%B»«I8HOP OT OXTOKD, AMD ONI OF T11K ■ ^ FOUB^AXKRIOAjt'^iTIoir ilHJLMGBD, WITH A PREFATORY NOTE, BT GEORGE n. nOUGHTON, D.D., KKCTOB or Tin OUURCH OF Tm TRAKSnOVBATION IX T ciTT or nw Touc NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 448 A 445 BBOADWAY. 1867. 2- r^^^ I 1^ TO WILLIAM GIBBS, ESQ., Of TTimSPULD, THB KISD FRIEND OF THE POOR, • TDK MUNIFICEXT PATRON OF ALL GOOD WORKS, AXD A LOTAL SON OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH, g:bcsf ^agcs are |nsmbrb WITH RETKBBXCS, GRATITUDE, AND AFFECTION. 9L ScflSBX Oardbnis IItdb Park, ) October 17, ISCl. f Mv DEAR Mr. GlDBS, You have kindly permitted mo to inscribe to you thi.s little treatise on the Christian Life. Most heartily do I wish that I had some worthier tribute of respect and afl'cction for one, wlio has shown me such unceasing kindness, and has been the instru- ment of such incalciUable blessings to my flock. But I know you will believe that my acknowledgement of all that I owe to you is, if not of any great value, at any rate sincere. We hav-c laboured much and happily together in the cause of the New Church, which your munificence has enabled us to com- plete and to endow. Perhaps this little book may serve as a me- morial of the happy hours so spent in one another's company, — hours which, I can assure you, have been some of the pleasautest of my life. The leading thoughts of my treatise arc so well expressed by a passage from a work which you gave me. that I should hke to adopt it as my motto : "Tbo oftcner I read Jeremy Taylor, thft morofl am satisfied of the ex- cellence of his method of recommending holiness to the heart and imaidna- tiun, 08 well as to the understanding of frail man by dwelling on the inflnito lovo and ooodesccn&ion of onr gracions Father in taking so much paiim to mak^ it attatnabU, ifnai eagy ; and by miwinff U up with every act and duty qf ordinary li/k, to at to moke ev^ryhour tpent in the world, as well a* in the elotet^tcien tanctiJUd by its motive, an act of religion and obedience. I have often wished to bear Christianity incafcated from the ptilpit on thisprinciple."— iS«r John Richardton. at quoted in the Life of Mr.JoehuaWateon. VoLiLp.l^. You will, I think, see that these three thoiights, — the power of attaining, under God's Grace, a real, though gradual, growth in sanctity ; the possibility of making the homeliest acts of common life contribute to this growth ; and the expediency of giving to such topics as these much more room than they generally occupy in Christian Teaching, — have been more or less present to my VI Epistle Dedicatory. mind throughout my argument. I have to thank you for giviug me the opportunity of here stating the fundamental principles of my little book so tersely and clearly. There is one point connected with this treatise on which an ex- planation seems necessary. By those who know what an all-im- portant position the Holy Scriptures hold in the Economy of Grace, it will be remarked as a grievous omission, that in that part of the work, which professedly treats of Devotional Exercises, there should not be a chapter devoted to the study of Scripture. My answer is, that a single chapter could not do justice to a subject so wide and important, and that I have already published a small volume upon it, which has met with a fair circulation and a kind reception. I do not wish to repeat myself in print. It only remains to add, by way of explaining some peculiarities of the style, that these pages, before they were thrown* into the shape of a treatise, have been orally delivered, some of them in your own hearing, in the form of Sermons ; but that the subject of them has been upon my mind for seven or eight years, and in the course of that period most of the chapters have been recon- sidered and written afresh. Faults, no doubt, many will be found in them ; but I trust that on topics of such transcendent import- ance I have not allowed myself to put forth any crude or pre- cipitate views. You will join with me, my dear Mr. Gibbs, in the prayer that, so far as it exhibits His Truth, God's Blessing may rest upon tliis little work, and that what is erroneous in it may be forgiven to me, and neutralized to the reader, through the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. I remain, my dear Mr. Gibbs, Your affectionate friend, Edward Meyrick Goulburn. "William Gibbs, Esq., •&«., &c., &C. PREFATORY NOTE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. Dr. Goulbukn, the author of the following Treatise on the Christian Life, is one of the lead- ing divines of our mother Church of England. To his pen is she indebted for a number of tlie most useful religious works that, of late years, have issued from the press; among which may be named: "Lectures on the Office of the lIoLY Communion ; " " Jntroduction to the De- votional Study of the Holy Scrittures;" "The Idle Word, or Short Eeliqious Essays ON THE Gift of Speech;" "Sermons preached during the last Twenty Years;" "Sermons AT THE Bampton Lectube IN 1850;" "Answer TO THE Essay on the Education of the World." viii Prefatory Note, To those of onr own Cliiircli wlio may bo familiar with any of these works, his " Thoughts ON Personal Eeltgion," if not ab-eady known to them, will need no word of introduction or commendation. To others, however, it may not be improper to say, that there are few, if any Treatises of the kind, of superior, if of equal merit. It is a treatise marked by great compre- hensiveness of subject ; strong, practical sense ; vigour and beauty of style; fulness and felicity of illustration ; and thorough warmth and spirit- uality of tone. ' Its words are, most truly, whole- some words — even the words of our Lord Jesub Cheist ; and its doctrine — so sound and moderate withal — is according to godliness (1 Tim. vi. 3). There is nothing in it that is dry, uninteresting, unreal, extravagant, impracticable, or beyond ordinary reach and compass. It is full of stimu- lus and full of encouragement. It is a manual, not so much, perhaps, for those who have abun- dant leisure and . lead a retired life, as for those, especially, who are engaged in the ordinary avocations of the world. It will teach them how, while living in the world — amid its cares and perplexities — to live above the world ; while Pirhifiirij Xofr. IX not slotlilul in l>llMlK*^^5 i(» uc fervent in 8j'iiit, serving the Lord ; in one word, Low to sanctify the secular, all-engrossing pursuit, and the daily toil. What is thus said, is said not without a thorough knowledge and trial of the book. Soon after its first publication in England in 1861, 1 procured it for my own private use, and its fi-equent perusal during the past two years, has not been, I trust, without advantage. I have read it in place of a weekly lecture, to a consider- able number of my parishioners, and, I believe, to their lasting benefit. I have added it as an ap- proved book to our Parish Library. I have placed several copies of it, and to their great satisfaction, in the hands of intelligent and ear- nest-minded friends. Li one case, during a length- ened sickness, it proved a source of much comfort and instruction — its chapter on the Magnificence of Prayer, solacing almost the dying liour. Li the present edition a few verbal changes have been made, in order that it might be the better adapted for the use of American church- men ; a reference to a verse in one of tlie Psalms has been introduced; and two liturgical works, X Prefatory Note. by divines of our own Cliiircli, have been named in addition to tbose recommended by De. Goul- BURN. May tbe blessing of God rest npon the author, and His grace be given to the reader. Laus Deo! G. H. H. Lent, 1864. CONTENTS, PART I. INTRODUCTORY. CHAPTER I. ON THE LOW STANDARD OF PERSONAL RELIGION NOW PREVALENT, AND THE CAUSES OF IT. " A certain man drew a bow at a venture^ and smote the king of lerad bettceen the joints of the harness.^'' — 1 Kings xxii. 84. PAOW Religion widely diffused, bat of a low typo in individaals— the Immense motive powers of Christianity shoald secure larger results —Analogy between knowledge and piety in respect of their diffosion over a wide area and their shallownees in indlvidnals— Is there any defect in tho means employed, which may account for this result f— The Ministry the great means of forming in man tho saintly charac- ter—The guidance of the conscience (as distinct from its awakening) too often neglected in our^Ministry— our aim to make good Impres- slons, but not to follow them np by systematic teaching— Popular Lectures as a means of difltising knowledge compared with populai Sermons as a means of diffusing Religion— Neglect of ministerial guidance of the conscience due (1) to a reaction from the confessional, (2) to a reaction from the dry moral sermons of half a century ago- Earnest desire of holiness tho state of mind contemplated in the reader— This desire is the rudiment out of which the spiritual crea- tion may be, step by step, built up ... . ... xii Contents. CHAPTER n. ON THE CHIEF CHARACTERISTIC OF TERSONAL RELIGION. " Grow in graced — 2 Pet. iii. 18. PAGB Accurate notion of the nature of Personal Religion, desiraljle in the outset — It Involves, as its chief characteristic, growth in grace —the essential connexion between growtli and life in Nature— no spiritual life without growth in grace— the distinction between spiritual life and spiritual impulses illustrated by the difference between the operations of life and those ot galvanism— individual- izing scrutiny of the character at the Day of Judgment— the question of our Religion being personal will resolve itself into the question. Is it a growing Heligion ?— this (and no other) the critical question for each of us — Is growth consistent with relapses ? Yes, if the fall have been one of infirmity— the occasional strong impulse of penitent love— the Christian's progress, like that of the tide, is move- ment upon the «;/joZe— Growth in Grace, as in Nature, is by many fresli starts— all healthy growth gradual — ^no comfort in these reflec- tions for the indolent and formal— if we are not advancing, we must bo falling back— formation of the character, either for good or evil, continually in progress 14 CHAPTER III. OF THE ENTIRE DEPENDENCE OF SANCTITY ON CHRIST, AND OF THE RELATION WHICH THE MEANS OF GRACE HOLD TO HIM. ^^ Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine ; no more can ye, except ye abide in Me. " / am the vine, ye are the branches : he that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit : for with/- out Me ye can do nothing^ — St. John xv. 4, 5. A clear notion of the nature of Christian Holiness essential— The difference of meaning between " "Without Me " and " Apart from Me ''—the fruits of the Spirit enumerated in detail in Gal. v. 22, 23.— Dependence of Justification on Christ generally recognized — Sanctification not an accumulation of righteous acts and ordi- nances, but a momentary receiving out of the fulness of Christ— the Contents noil elrculattnfc 'Ap, which is the Hfo of tho vino-branch, not from the branch, but (Vi^m tbo Stuck— all {{races inhere in Chrlat, na ouloura io tho Sunliftht ; and independently of Christ, the heart haa no grace, cvtn ai», iinlcprntlontly of the 8un, a landacape haa no colour— Iho st*crct of nanctity, then, ia mutaal indwelling of the Christian in ChrlHt, of ChrUt In the Christian— We abide in llim by faith in Him, as being made to us Sonctiflcation— Could we doubt His wlllingncHH to sanctify u^, even If wo had no promise to that effect t— May not our very otriiggles to bo holy be, in a certain sense, a token of want of faith 7— yet He will not (and cannot) sanctify us, unless we yield np tho soul into His hands — and this implies yielding up the teiU— Christ abides in tho Christian by Ordinance, and specially by tho Holy Communion— how tho allegory before us implies that even this Sacra- ment will bo profltlees without faith— Ordinances are merely chan- nels by which the Virtue of Christ is conveyed into the souls of faith- ful recipients— Illnstration from the story of the woman of Samaria— Christ the Well ; tho Ordinance, tho I'ltcher ; Faith, the muscular action, which lifts the pitcher .21 CHAPTER IV. PERSONAL RELIGION BOTH ACTIVE AND CONTEM- PLATIVE. " In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne^ high and lifted upland his train filled the temple, ^ Above it stood the Seraphims: each one had six wings: vnth twain he covered his face ^ and with twain he covered hisfeet^ and with twain he didfiy.''^ — Isa. vL 1, 2. The subject falls into two great divisions- The angelic life the model of the Christian— Adoration and Service the elements of the angelic life— Monastlclsm discards the latter of these elements— the active services of holy Angels— necessity for work in tho consti- tution of our nature — each of us has a stewardship, and a work an- nexed to it, In the great social system — the "business'* of the child and of the slave— the two chief scenes, In which angels are seen en- gaged in Worship— the barrenness and weariness of activity, if not fed from the springs of devotion — defective devotion the snare of these busy times— The angelic life haa been led upon earth, under the pres- sure of physical inflrmitics, by Christ— His persistent activity and unwearied devotion — Service and Prayer most interpenetrate one an- other—prayer the spot of God's children— are we men of prayer f . 87 B xiv Contents. PART II. THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE. CHAPTER L OF THE MAGNIFICENCE OF PKAYEE, AND THE PEAO- TICAL DEDUCTIONS FEOM THAT DOOTRINE. "jETe that comelh to God.'''' — Heb. xi. 6. PAOH An effort necessary to grasp tho idea of prayer— Gradual ascent as necessary to the mind in reaching a great idea as to the body in reaching a great height — Prayer a coming to God — "wo will seek to realize the grandeur of this idea — supposed privilege of consulting in our difficulties the wisest and best man upon earth— of consult- ing a departed parent or friend— of consulting our guardian-angel —proof that such intercourse between this world and another would be largely practised, if it were feasible — these hypotheses help us to realize the idea of coming to God, which however must always transcend our powers — God permits, invites, commands our approach— But may not the consciousness of our guilt debar us from access ?— were it not for Christ, it must be bo — the sym- bolism of the surplice— difficulty of rescuing prayer from formality —design of this chapter to help us in such difficulties— the exer- cise however demands time — which might perhaps be gained by self-discipline- a little well done better than much done superficially — tlie end of stated Prayers (as well as the entrance into tJiem) ghould be made tho subject of attention— we must watch against eub- Bequent levity 61 Contents, xv CHAPTER 11. OP THE TWOFOLD ASPECT OF PRAYER, AND THE NB- CJISSITY OF PRACTISING IT IN BOTH ASPECTS. *• Let my prmjer be ad forth be/ore thee a» iruxnte : and the h/Hng up of my hands a» the evening eacriJice.'^—TsALu cxU. 2. PAQB Pmyer introdaecd in two dlffbrent connexion* in the Bermon on the Mount— Prayer a mciins of supplying our wnnt* nnd also »n act of liomage to Qod— the Christian a priest— his sacrifice of tbo body —his aacrifico of a]me— his sacrifice of prayer— incense a typ« of prayer— the Altar on which these aacriflces must bo made— prayer as a tax npon our time compared to alms as a tax upon our substance — thlnlc of yourself as a priest -when you oflbr prayer— how these thooghts may help us against the temptation to leave off, when pmyer promises to be dry and barren— we pray for God's honour, not ex- clnsively for our own comfort— when you cannot pray as you would, pray as you can— perseverance in prayer uiider dlBcourago- mcnts the most acceptable offering— an illustration of this from the writings of St. Francois de Sales— necepfity of redeeming onr Frayera from selfishness, by (1) mixing intercession with them— (2) and by mixing praise with them— Praise often quickens a tor- pid heart 61 CHAPTER III. THE SECRET OF SUCCESS IN PEATEE. '*And in the morning as they passed 6y, tlwt/ saw the Jig-tree dried up from the roots. And Peter eattiug to remembrance sailh unto him^ Mailer^ beheld^ thefigAree vshich tJiou cursedsi is withered atcay. And Jesus answering saith unto them^ Have faith in Ood. For verily I say unto you, T/iat whosoever shall say unio this mountain^ Be thou removed^ and be thou cast into the sea : and shall not doubt in his hearty but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass ; he shall have whalsoevet he saiihy—}IUBK. xl 20—23. Onr Lord^s comments on incidents which pass before Him not always what wo shotUd have anticipated— the lesson lie draws Contents. PAGB from the blighted fig-tree not -what we Bhould have expected— the wthering of the tree led St. Peter to reflect on the power of his Master's words— Our Lord replies that His followers should say words of power like His, if only they will pray in faith and love — the srnall effect of the prayers of religious persons — may it not he due to their not expecting an answer ?— would they not be surprised if an answer should come? — Our despondency as regards any fruits of sanctity in ourselves — necessity of honouring God while we pray, by believing that He will be true to His promise— ask for 'definite graces, and expect definite results — A promise to prayer which coa- teraplates in the petitioner nothing but asking— sublimity and free- dom of this promise 72 CHAPTER IV. OF SELF-EXAMINATION. ^* And the Lord sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him^ and said unto him, There were two men in one city: the one rich, and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds ; hut the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and it grew up together with him, and with his children : it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock, and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him : but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David^s anger was greatly kindled against the man ; and he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man thai hath done this thing shall surely die : and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pnty. And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man. — 2 Sam. xii. 1 — 7. David in disguise brought before his own judgment-seat— "We never judge ourselves as severely as we judge an abstract case— evil never admitted by the will without some palliation— it is self-exami- nation which makes religrion a personal thing — special necessity of pressing it on members of the reformed churches— proneness of self- Contents. xvii PAOI examination to lapno Into formality— neccMlty of it ariaca ftrom tho dccoltfulnoan of tlio heart— Wjirm charactors lilto David and Bt, IVtor apocially liable to •clf-decepUon, and why— dangerouanoaa of (rusting to Bonio f:Ur-«polcon but dlshonrtt man In a groat mercantito B|>oca1ation— the tmat -which wo naturally phico In our own hearts — oclf-love consplroa to make dapea of na— Moans to be ascd in coun- toracting the dpcoltfolnoas of the heart— As we cannot oorsclvcit give a fair Judgment on our own sine, might wo not sometimes call in an- other to Judge Hiom f — or aslc ourselves how such an ono would re- gard it, if wo communicated it to hSm t— the better as well as tlie Wiirst parts of our conduct need self Tho dolnjf work oarnettly for God and in Qod will make Intcmip- tlons very barMftln^— «abJ»ot of ibo chapter propoted— when troubled by Interruption*, wo mutt copy tlio mind of Christ, as It transpires (1) Iti Ills discourses— wliich are not sot and formal, but take their rUo from somo object of nature or Incident which lie comes across— tho oontoxtare of our Lord's discourses not systematic in the usual sense of the word— tho intellcotual method and the method of charity— (2) in His life— apparent want of plan in It— this illustrated from Matthew Ix. — God bM a plan of life fur each one of us, and occasions of doing or receiving good mapped out for each in His Eternal Counsels — littlo incidents, as well as great rises of life, are under the control of God's Providence— Events have a voico for us, if wo will listen to it— Let us view our Interruptions as part of God's plan for us— Wo may receive good, oven where we cannot do good — It is self-will which weds us so to our own plans, and makes us resent interference with them— the true notion of God's Providence illustrated— Let us endeavour to sub- serve HiB designs for us 21S CHAPTER V. FIOIIT WISELY. " Sofght I, not atone thai beateth the air."— 1 Cor. ix. 26. Becond element in the Christian's practical life, his rcsUtance to temptations— Satan's policy mnst be opposed by policy— want of defl- nito aim In resisting temptations a cause of failure— the besetting sin and its dcceitftilnees— Vanity masked by an affected humility— nndcr honourable emulation— Indolence masked under some more super* flclal sin- usual sensitiveness of men on the weak points of their moral character — in strong characters the ruling passion is more ob* rioos— bints for discovering besetting sin— in what direction do the xxiv Contents. PAGH results of BcIf-examiu go to Jettu. But when he eate the wind boi^eroua^ he wa» a/raid; and beginning to sitd\ he cried eayinff^ Lord, eave me. And immediately Jcsti* etretched forth hie Jtand^ and caught him^ and eaid unto him O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou dtmif /"— Matt xiv. 25 — 81. vxow Ilarmony of Bcripturo characters with themselves, and argument thence arUing in favour of their authenticity— Rehearsal before- hand of St, rctcr's trial and fall— critical temptations occur hut sel- dom—small ones not to be despised, as being a previous rehearsal of great ones— little temptations an excellent dlBrlpllno of hamlUtj'— in- stances in which great Saints have broken down in tlioir chamctoris- tic graoe, and the moral discipline of humility liltely to bo brought out of such failures— sclf-tru8t a certain source of failure— it often lurks under disgust with self— how the abnegation of BoIf-truBt is con- nected with elasticity of mind In the spiritual combat— how trust In Christ is taught in the narrative before ue— never look temptations full in the face— look away from them to Christ, who is to conquer In you — weaken the alTection for Bin by filling the mind with the thought, and the heart with the love, of Christ — Satan's strongest osBault poe* si biy reserved for the last— terrors of the lost conflict parallel with those of the disciples in the boat — let ns nerve ourselves by faithful- ness in lesser trials for this last oanflict 251 CHAPTER VIII. FIGHT WATCHFULLY *' Keep thy heart with all diligence : for out of it are tJic issuei of life:'— Prox. iv. 23. The great force of the expression. Keep thy heart above all keep' tn{^— necessity for keeping the heart, arising from the fact that It is the key of the spiritual position— the traitors within the fortress— the immense fertility of our thoughts and feelings a relason for watch- fulness— variety of emotions In conversation— solitude offers as many temptations as company— let us pause at Intervals, and make our thoughts give up their passport — what must be done when derange- ments of the heart are discovered — spiritual life carried on by many fresh starts — The necessity of resisting evil when firet presented to the Imagination— prayer must be mixed with watchfulness In order to success— prayer the expression of our entire dependence upon XX vi Contents. FAOH God— great difficulty of keeping tlie heart ehould teach ub this dc- pondeuce— the peace -which resulta from Christ's indwelling in the heart— The peace in the stable of the inn of Bethlehem . . .202 CHAPTER IX. THE niGH PEEEOGATIYE OF SUFFEEING. " Venly^ verily^ I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdcdst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest : hut when thou shalt be old, thoushalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This spal'c he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, Follow me." — John xxi. 18, 19. Oar Lord's prediction of the manner of St. Peter's death— how the words may be applied generally as a parable of human life in youth and old age— suffering the third element in the practical life of the Christian — regard suffering as a vocation— even when plans of re- ligious usefulness are disconcerted by it — illustration from a wise geu- cral's conduct of a campaign— what has been said applies to the lit- tle plans of daily life as well as to our prospects on a large scale- trial of interruptions — example of our Lord when interrupted— suf fering the highest of all vocations, as being (usually) the last— St. Peter's death the time when he specially glorified God— death the climax of sufferings— Even in natural character trial brings out un- suspected graces— Suffering conforms us to Christ— His virtues em- phatically the passive ones — death of Christ expresses more of His Divine Character than His life — In what sense He was made perfect through sufferings— Christ's call to us to follow Him— the meaning of the words, " Take up the Cross"— Do not despise little daily crosses -, . 2T1 CHAPTER X. OF EECEEATION. " Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.'"—l Cok. x. 31. An anecdote of St, John the Evangelist— every true representa- tion of life must embrace its lighter as well as its more sombre pas- Contents, xxy\\ FAoa •»(;«•— religion doalgnsd to Icavcn our tohol^ lifo— analogy between Rocrvntlon and Sleep— we cannot afford to loao a single waking mo- ment of oar time— no waking mumont monUly indifferent— admlit«lon that recreation mu8t bo an unbending— recreation may be, and muHt be, directed by oar minds to the glory of Qod— a passago of Scripturo whrch implies this— What phould bo our intention in taking recrea- tion, expressed In wools— As to their form, Recreations r ast * i hino cent (not necessarily uwful)— and Innocent to ««— experimental knowl- edge of our own moral temperament — amnsomcnts should be amns- UiK— burdensomaoeM of many (so^alled) amusoments— ordinary dul- ncss of eonveraatlon— what remedies can be applied f— every mind has an interest somewhere— oeoasional toilsomencss of foreifni travel —and Its cause— even in voriety wo should seek a unity of plan— n good education should comprise some lighter subjects of study — re freshment to the mind of even a slight Itnowledgo of Nature — '* Con elder the lilies of the field"- avoid escoss In recreations — long per«oN THE T^'ISDOM AND COMFOKT OP LOOKING NO FUR- THER THAN THE PRESENT DAT IN OUR SERVICE OF GOD. ' He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much.^* — Luke xvi. 10. FAGB Wisdom of limiting the field of research in the pursuit of knowl- edge—wisdom of beginning from one centre in the practical life of the Christian— the general principle applied to our time— the natural divisions of time— the day the least of them— the day a miniature of the whole life— illustration from a convex mirror— passages of Scrip- ture implying that the day is the rudiment of the life— our provisions meted out by the day— our anxieties to I)a limited by the day— fore- thought allowed within the horizon of the day— our purposes to bo limited by the same horizon — difficulty of so limiting them— the morn- ing a miniature of youth— how much depends upon the way in which, the morning hour is spent— entrance upon the business of the day compared to entrance upon the business of life — ^little crosses of the day compared to the great trials of life— consolatory prospect of the evening hour of devotion, if we maintain patience and watchfulness —Resemblance of Sleep to Death— and of rising to Resurrection- Look to it tbat the days be well spent ; for they make up our life— But if we have thrown away (for all spiritual purposes) many days, still there is a possibility of redeeming the time— how this may be done— let to-morrow begin a new era with us 297 Conlcnts, xx'ix riTAPTER IT. ON UNITY OP EFFORT IN THE SERVICE OF GOD. • 77iou art careful and trovbled about many things ; lux >n« thing is needJvl.^—Lxmt x. 41, 42. Tkom Simplicity nnd depth of the worda of oar Lord illuatrnted by tie di'pth of a pellucid Btivam— neccMlty of pcaco in eodeavour, aa well a« of poaco In the consciouaness of acceptanco—deainblenoaa of hav> Ing one ainglo principle at tho foundation of our spiritual character —how la this to bo reconciled with the obligation of fulfilling all Uod'a comniandmeiita r— tho way in which Cbrietian vlrtuca hang together — promlncnco of a particular feature in all natural characters, nnd of a imrtlcular grace In all apirltual charactera— growth in Nature proceeda from ono nucleus— application of tho principle — bend your eflbrte to tho eradication of tho bosom sin— other gracea will form themaelvcs while thla process goca on— Chooee ono maxim aa the foundation of the aplrltual character—" Hallowed be thy Name " — what God'a Name includea— " BIcsBcd are the poor in aplrlt"— the principle choaen should not be too narrow, aa aa to give rare acopo for acting upon It— nor too broad, so aa to Include (vir* tually) many pnnciplea— It ahould lie In a line of thought to which wo are naturally drawn — Cultivate quietness of mind aa a great po- crct of encceaa in aplrltual endeavour— how Ihia quietness may be had even under the conaoiooaneaa of falla 803 CHAPTER III. OF THE WAY IN WHICH WE SHOULD SEEK TO EDIFY OTHERS. "Z<< your light so shine 'before men^ that they may see youf pood ttorks^ and glorify your Fai/icr which is in /icai'CTu"— Matt. v. 16. A desire to do good to othera la tho very spot of Ood'a children— tbia deeire oAcn directed in wrong channels — tho history of achism — miadlreoted desire to edify— ita roischlevoua results— fundamental pasaage on which the duty of Edification ia built — Sermon on tho Moant a perfect code of Christian duty— danger of applying India- crimlnately words spoken to the Apoetlea, or to indlvidaala nndcr po- cnliar circamatances — " Lot ycnr light ablno before men " explained from the context— do nothing to hide your Christian profession— our XXX Contenis. PAGB Lord epcfxks of ediflcatiosi bj' example— and does not recommend even this for the sake of edification— c\cry light must shine unless you cover it up— dangers of indiscriminate religious admonition— as an assumption (which may bo groundless) of religious superiority— as being most often a failure in point of result— as being a display of spiritual feeling, which may be mischievous to this delicate plant— ilow we may odify others— Live close to God, and strive to do all ac- tions as unto Him— never lower your principles to the world's stand- ard—aim at appearing just wliat you arc, neither better, nor worse- eschew affectation in every form gl9 CHAPTER IV. IN WHAT THE SPIRITUAL LIFE COis^SISTS. " And he opened his mouthy and taught ihem^ saying^ Blessed are the poor in spirit : for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness : for they shall be filed. Blessed are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God. Blessed are tite peacemakers : for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for right eousiiess' sake : for theirs is the kingdom of lieaven.'''' — Matt. V. 2—10. The author's excuse for introducing this subject at so late a pe- riod of the work — In what the Spiritual life docs not consist — Not iu ordinances— ordinances the means of kindling the flame or of feeding it, but not the flame— the gardener's tools not the life of tlie tree— ■ our unhappy tendency to confound means with endi- — MonasMcism aBsumes that the Spiritual Life consists in ordinances — Scripture, where it touches on the vitals of religion, omits all mention of ordi- nance—the Spiritual life does not ccnsist of actions — the fruit is not the life — View of religion as mere usefulness congenial to the English mind — Spiritual life does not consist in activities — religious activity of the present day— we all catch the spirit of it— our natural zest for work quickened by the disgust of young and earnest minds with the controversial extravagances of the day — the mischievous tendency of this result — Christian practice supposed to be separable from Chris- tian doctrine — in what the Spiritual life does consist ?— answers from Scripture— It is internal— nol even private prayer is the spiritualJVfe, Contents, xxxi in;>Mi7itfi>— thin illuRtrntcd by tho Itcntttudos of merkncM and moroy — tho (init beatitude gives tho fundamental graoo of ttio Christian character — applicatioD of thceo various criteria in sclf-oxaminatioo 8 CHAPTER V. THAT OUB STUDY OF GOD'S TRUTH MUST BE WITH THB HEART. •*J9tt/ even unto tlit* day, when Motet m rcad^ the vail is vj)on their hurt, Neverthden when it thaU turn to the Lord, tlie vail sJuUl be taken away^ — 2 Cor. iiL 16, 16. Jowiab blindncfts rceultcd from a prodlBposltlon not to believe^ In what form the truth ia recognized that a man'a judscmont is liable to bo prejudiced by his inclinations— non-recognition of this truth in the attempt of heathen philosophers to persuade men to virtue— tho method of Socrates — historically Christianity began with an appeal to the affections— the doctrine of the Gospel makes tho same appeal —Moral effect which the story of Christ's death is likely to produce —justifying faith shtjwn to be an operation of tho heart— every for- ward step in the spiritual life must be made with tho heart— the ne- cessity of ^ unction''^ to effective preaching— study of Scripture too often drops into a mere intellectual exercise — snare of the interest which attaches to Scripture in a literary point of view— tho saving truths are the simplest— study chiefly Christ crucified, who is the centre of Qod's revelation ftlO CHAPTER VI. ON tlVINO BY RULE, ** Upon thejirsl day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when leomey — 1 Cor. xvL 2. Discrepancy between the general tone of New Testament precept, and the passage at the head of tho Chapter— wisdom of St, PaoPs rule on tho subject of almsgiving— impossibility of adapting the rale xxxii Contents. pAGn to all circumstances— general dearth of rules in the New Testament pointed out, and accounted for — morning and evening private prayer, and public worship on Sunday regarded as a sort of law of conscience — nature furnishes materials for all the arts of life— as Scripture fur- nishes principles for all rules of holy living— this analogy worked out — each Christian to frame rules for himself— grave responsibility of keeping the soul — and the necessity thence arising for a wise rule and method of life — rules must bo adapted to our temperament and circumstances — rules urgently required in the matter of almsgiving — specific resolutions recommended, framed on a foresight of the trials of the day— rules should be made a help, not a penance . . .351 CHAPTER VII. OF THE MISCHIEF AND DANGEE OF EXAGGEKATIONS IN EELIGION. " Let us prophesy according to the proportion offaith.^^ EoM. xii. G. A comparison from the writings of Lord Bacon— morbid tendency of the human mind to caricature the truths presented to it — all heresy , a caricature of truth — this instanced in the erroneous views of the Quaker— and in those of some modern divines, who magnify God's Justice at the expense of His Love— spiritual writers often put a strain upon favourite precepts of the Gospel— an instance in which St. Franfois de Sales caricatured the grace of resignation— natural- ness of character in the scriptural Saints— traces of it in St. Paul— in order to keep the mind free from exaggerations, read Scripture co- piously—candidly—and giving full weight to those parts which do not naturally attract you— imbue the mind with it .... 363 CHAPTER VIII. OF THE GEEAT YAEIETY OF MEN'S CHAEACTEES IN THE CHUECH OF CHEIST. " As the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, arc one body ; so also is Christ,''''—- 1 Cor. xii. 12. The various extraordinaiy gifts of the early Church «camo from • the same author, and work together to the same end— variety in unity Contents, xxxiii pAoa the law of nfttnr*— agenoy of the Mine laws of nataro in dl«tinot ■pheree— great variety in llolj' Scrlptaree— the unity of Holy Scrip- turo traced Arom its earlier to its Inter booka— eamo feature of variety in unity to be expected in tho Church of Christ— the ■upematanU frifts have most of them some natural endowment which oorreaponda with them — ditTerenoc of ohamctcr and endowments In 8t. Peter, St. Paul, St. John, and other scriptural Saints— religious experience of diflcrent Christians widely different— conversions of a wholiy differ- ent klml recorded on the same page of Scripture— our method of nervlnjr God will differ with our capacities and position— lesson of ch.nrity towards those who take a difforcnt lino of religious thoAght from ourselves— each Christian desi^^ed to be an original specimen of redooming love and grace 3T3 CHAPTER IX. OP THE IDEA OP SACRIFICE, AS PERVADING THE CHKISTIAN'S LIFE. " An holy priesthood^ to offer up spiritual acuriJiceSy acceptable to QodbyJesui Christ:'— I Pet. U. 6. Ail forms of religion have Involved the idea of sacrifice— this per- haps traceable to the lingering tradition of Noah's sacrifice after the flood— instinct of the human heart which instigates men to sacrifice analyzed— hold which the idea has of the mind, shown by the system V Bomonism- the sacrifice of Christ, which is the central doctrine •f our religion, comprehends the sweet-savour offering of His Life, and the sin-offering of His Death— fundamental difference of these two offerings explained— Christ our altar — God still requires from Christians the sweet-savour though not the sin-offering- the offering of the body aa a living sacrifice— of praise— of alms— how all these three offerings are recognized in the Communion Service— possibility of offering an acceptable sacrifice an encouraging thought— privilege of being allowed to please God by an acceptable tribute— self-obla- tion should form part of our morning's devotion, and the spirit of it should pervade our common actions— materials of an acceptable offer- ing always at hand —but no offering can be acceptable independently of the mediation and intorceeslon of Christ, Who is tb9 tme altar ' . 8S5 CHAPTER X. OP ALLOWING IN OUR MINDS A PREPONDERANCE TO TRIFLES. " Woe unto you^ Scribes and Pharisees^ hypocrites ! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin^ and have omiUed iht weigh/f XXXI V ^ Contents. ier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: thesi ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.''^ — Matt. xxii. 23. FAQK Attention to little duties continually recommended in this treatise — and why — ordinary life made up of little things — great crises occur comparatively seldom— Even duties not moral but ceremonial (such as reverent postures in prayer) have their importance— making tho responses— attention to iittio things may degenerate into scrupulosity —case of the Pharisees— two opposite habits of mind as regards little things imported by men into their religion — punctiliousness in small matters quite consistent with the neglect of greater — the comparative insignificance of ritual and antiquarian controversies, and of the deco- ration of Churches— formalities often adhered to by those who pro- fess to disregard forms— how the spirit of Religion may be allowed to evaporate, while formal regulations are observed — formal restraints as to amusement— formal observance of Sunday— "While you use rules as a help, keep your eye fixed on the spirit and principle of them — Love to God and man the fulfilling of the whole Law — view all other things as they stand related to these two great objects • . . . 81)5 CHAPTER XI. OF IMPROYIXG OUE TALENTS. " For the kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one : to every man according to his several ability : and straightway took his journey. " Then he which had received the one talent came and said. Lord, 1 knew thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou hast not strawed: and I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in the earth : lo, there thou hast that is thine. His lord answered and said unto him, Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest that I reaped where J sowed not, and gather where I have not strawed: thou oughtcst therefore to have put my money to the exchangers, and then at m_j coming I should have received mine own with usury. ^^ — Matt, xxv 14, 15—24, 25, 26, 27. Misapprehensions which might arise from the moral of the Para- ble of the Virgins— how the Parable of the Talents corrects them-* Conlenta. the th:vr.ui. I 1 ,.ii :i . >i ,.N i;r rio.uiiu M . »,iiii-blirli>klng fruui Lm- prvKior.Hl rc-ponniMlty In tli.'HO qualiflod for It— t)rdlnatlon hy con- straint III Hio ourly Cliurch— •»c:intineM of cndowmonta a pica for not improving tlioni— tho phrase " according to hii ability " explained— 8t. Paul endowed with ten lalont»— his Imrrovement of tiiem— St. Ilarnabaa'* ono talent— his linproveraeiit of It— l»ow St. narnahaa mi«ht havo acted like tho slothful servant— men largely endowed aro not generally slothful, and why— tho majority mediocre— wliat mo- lives induce tho slenderly endowed to bo slothful— What is tho ono talent ODtruHted to me?— conjectures as to what It may bo— IIow may I gain from It tho largest interest t— hard thoughts of Qod lie at tho ro.>t of unfruitfulnoss In religion— Ho never calls ua to a standard of duty for which IIo is oot ready to qualify u«— in jtroportton to the burden laid upon us lie gives more grace 405 CHAPTER XII. OF THE INTERIOR LIFE. •* TT^en shall the kingdom of heaven he likened unto ten virgins, wldch took their lampSy and went forth to meet the bridegroom. And five of them were wise, and five toere foolish. They that vere foolish took their lamps, and took no oil wiiJi them : hul the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps. While the bride- groom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnigfU there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom comeih : go ye out to meet him. Then all those virgins arose, and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said unto Vie wise. Give us of your oil: for our lamps are gone out. But tJie wise answered saying, Kot so: lest there be not enough for us and you : but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves. And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came : and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage : and the door was shut. Afterwards eame also the other virgins, saying. Lord, Lord, open to us. But he antwered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. Watch therefore for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherut Christian saintliness must surely go beyond this, as being the product of much higher agencies. And where is Christian saintliness among us? Without Ii^nying its existence, it may be yet said that none of the instimces we can show of it arc of a high caste. Indeed, is it not the case that there is a singular Analogy between the present state of knowledge nnd of piety, — that in this ago literature and religion fare much alike? In what were called the dark ages, literature was the monopoly of the few ; gross igno- rance was tlie condition of the many. There were some monks and priests who represented all the erudition of their times, and were great luminaries of learning. And much later than the dark ages, while printing was in its childhood, and the helps to knowledge few or none, you meet with men who were great repositories of the literature of the day, giants of intellectual re- source. It is not so any longer. Every one knows little ; few know much ; and fewer still know pro- foundly ; they have drawn what they know, not from the fountain-head, but from commentaries, and ab- stracts, and summaries, and indices, and other books whose province is to make the attainment of know- lodge cheap and easy. Is it not the same with piety ? 'lie great saints of primitive (nay of mediaeval) times and out like stars in the firmament of' the Church, 1 1 the brighter for the darkness of heathenism or of superstition which surrounds them. But the tendency 6 On the Low Standard of Personal Religion [part of modern times has been to diffuse among, many the piety which was once concentrated in the few. The public are religious as a public, but in individuals the salt has lost its savour. Every body can speak volubly upon controversial subjects ; but where are the men, upon whose heart the Truth, which is at stake in con- troversies, is making every day, by means of prayer and meditation, a deeper imprint? If any remedy is to be applied to this state of things, it is plain that we must first set ourselves to inquire into its causes. And in conducting this in- quiry, it is natural to turn our eyes in the first place to the Christian ministry, as at present exercised in this country. If the results of the Gospel are not what they should be, it is probable that there are some defects in the instrumentality which it condescends to employ. If saints be not made by the great system, may it not be that the means of working it are out of order % Now we are distinctly told that God's great instrumentality for the sanctification and salvation of souls is the ministry of the Word ; " He gave soTne, Apostles ; and some, prophets ; and some, evangelists ; and some, pastors and teachers ; " ( for what end ? ) ^^for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, nnto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.'* Stripping this passage of its beautiful inspired phraseo- logy, and dropping its reference to those miraculous gifts which have now passed away, its gist and upshot is this, that the ministry of God's Word is the great appointed means for the perfecting of the saintly or Christ-like character in man. Is there then any flaw I.] now prevalent, and tiie Causes of it, 1 ill our ministry, which may in some measure account : -r the low standard of Personal Religion, on which wo have been commenting ? Wo fear, there is. Wo believe that the Christian Ministry having, by God's ilosign and constitution, two arms wlicrewith to do its work, one of these arms has become paralysed by in- activity. We believe that its office ( as regards the Word of God ) being twofold, to rouse consciences, and to guide them, we have for a long time past in tiie Church (and probably it is the same with the sects) contented ourselves with rousing, while we have tlone scarcely any thing to guide them, Tlie one I'ject of all our teaching, whether in formal sermons or ill books, has been to make impressions, not to give them a right direction, when made. The sermon is tlirown every Sunday into the midst of the people, very much as the arrow which found out King ^ab was darted into the host of Israel, to take its chance amid the thousand arrows which on that day were winging their flight to and fro. Often, no doubt, the grace and providence of God directs the shaft to the right quarter, causes it to reach some sinner's con- science, through the joints of a harness of insensibility and indifference, and to rankle there in real and abiding conviction. But the misfortune is, that where such in eflfect is really produced, both minister and people -oem to think, judging from their conduct, that the work in that particular case has gone quite far enough. Tlie impression having been made is thenceforth left to itself; the working power being there, it is assumed tliat it will work, without any further pains on our part. The minister prepares a similar stirring appeal for other consciences ; and the people acquiesce in a religion of good emotions, as if these emotions were 8 0)1 the Low Standard of Personal Beligion [part sanctity itself, and not rather something to begin and go on upon, — the primary impulse in the life-long pursuit of sanctity. And thus the good impressions are allowed to run to waste, and no real ground is gained by them. We have said that a low standard and a wide diffusion seem to be the law to which both religion and education are subjected in the present day. And perhaps there may be, when we come to look closely, a similar defect in the instrumentality employed by both. Popular lectures are one^ of the great agencies employed in the spread ot knowledge. . It is the object of these lectures to put in a lively and attractive form so much of the subject as is agreeable and entertaining, and to hide away all the abstruse re- search, or the abstruse reasoning, by which the results are arrived at. The lecturer is considered to have gained his point if he has skilfully dressed a rather spare dish of knowledge with the garniture of amuse- ment, and sent away his audience pleased and tickled with the conceit of having caught a cursory insight into the bearings of his subject. But as they have never grappled with the elements of the study, the new facts or ideas conveyed to them are forgotten almost as soon as acquired. Whatever advantages such a system may have, it is certain that no scholar was ever made by it. For even now (notwithstanding our intellectual advance) there is no royal road to knowledge ; and those who would really and truly know must still submit to the condition of laborious and gradual discipline ; "line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little, and there a little." But do not the great majority even of good and useful sermons resemble in their principles and objects these popular lectures'? Do not those sermons 1 i now prevalent^ and the Causes of it. 9 especially rcseinblo them, which it is now the fushion to preach to the masses, and from which wo expect some great results, as if they were the one religious agency of the day ? If wo were to define modern sermons as "popular expositions of Holy Scripture, witli a warm and stirring application to men's con- sciences," should we go far wrong? They are de- signed to make, and often (uu'Jer Grace) they dc make, wholesome impressions of a spiritual character, and the people who are touched by them go away pleased, thinking "they have got good." And good they have got, no doubt ; but then it is good which is not followed up. If the good should go in some cases as far as real conversion, or change of will, there seems to be no provision for edification, that is, for building on the foundation thus laid. They have been exhorted to religion ; but they have not been instructed in it There is in our exercise of the ministry no systematic plan on which people are taught, and brought on radually towards " the measure of the stature of the iiilness of Christ." And the results are most mis- chievous. Piety degenerates into a series of shallow motions, which evaporate in the absence of stirring appeals to the conscience. Tlic souls of our people become like Bethesda's pool. Periodically they arc iiipregnated with an healing influence; "an angel :< »(th down into the pool, and tronbleth the water." lit '. alas! the virtue of the stirring is but momen- tary ; the dregs quickly fall again to the bottom, and the water becomes dead, stagnant, and unprofitable as before. Thus we seem to have found that one of the causes of the low standard of Personal Religion among us, is pro1>aV)ly the Avant of any definite direction of con- 10 On the Loio Standard of Personal Religio7i [pari science, after it has been once awakened. If we carry our inquiry still further back, and ask the reasons why this part of the ministerial work has been neglected, we shall probably find that it is owing to reactions from a state of things wrong in itself. Before the Reformation, the confessional existed as a living power in the church ; it exists still in the communion of the Church of Rome. Frightful as are the evils and abuses inseparably connected with the system of regular compulsory confession,* there was at least this advantage connected with it, that under such a system the minister could not forget the duty imposed upon him of directing the awakened conscience. Counsel he must perforce give, counsel practical and definite for the eradication of those sins, the avowal of which was poured weekly into his ear. The Protestant clergy- man on the other hand, confined to the pulpit, is thereby, of course, thrown back to a much greater distance from the minds of his flock. He does not know, and cannot know, except in those very rare cases, where a revelation of such things is voluntarily tendered to him, what is the nature of their difficulties, or the quarter in which their trials lie. Hence arises a temptation (though surely not a necessity) to do as the certain man in the passage above referred to did, to let fly his word of counsel without any definite aim, to be general and vague both in doctrine and exhorta- tion. And it is well if the generality and vagueness do not go so far as to become unreality, if the por- traitures of the believer and unbeliever are not so overcharged as that no man really resembles either of them, and if consequently the discourse, being meant for nobody in particular, does not fare worse than the death-shaft of Ahab, and hit nobody in particular. I.] now prevalent^ and the Causes of it, 1 1 But why, because we rightly reject the odious system of the confessional, are we to abandon the attempt to direct the human conscience from the pulpit, or from the press t Tlie Apostles had no confessionals. And yet were not tlic Apostles ever making such attempts as wo speak of 1 What is the nature of the Apostolic Epistles 1 Are they not all addresses to believers in Christ, whose consciences had already received the primary impulse of true religion, with the view of guiding them in their perplexities, confirming them in their convictions, forewarning them against their tempt- ations, encouraging them in their troubles, explaining to them their difficulties, and generally building them up in their most holy faith 1 And are not the Apostolic Epistles the great model of what stated Christian teaching in a Christian country should be ? — a process, be it observed, widely diflerent from the evangelizing of the heathen, and recognized as diflerent in the great baptismal commission given by our Lord in the last verses of St. Matthew's Gospel, where lie bids His Apostles first " teach " as a preliminary/ to baptism, — teach with the view of making disciples, — and subsequently to baptism ^^ teach" the converts so made *' to observe all things, whatsoever He liad commanded." Those two teachings are quite distinct. The object of the one was to arouse the conscience of the heathen ; the object of the other was to direct the conscience of the Christian. The state of things on which we have been animad- verting is also probably due in part to a reaction from the hard and dry style of preaching, which was in fashion some half-century ago. Some of us can remember the time when sermons were nothing more than moral essays, setting forth some duty, or some 12 On the Low Standard of Personal Religion [pari. grace of the Christian character, with little or no reference to those evangelical motives from which alone an acceptable obedience can spring, and no suggestions of any value as to the method in which the particular grace recommended might be obtained. You were told that humility, and self denial, and contentment were excellent things, and worthy of being pursued by all men ; but as to the considerations which alone can move to the pursuit, and as to any practical method of maintaining them under difficulties, you were left in ignorance. But when it pleased God to quicken the dry bones of the Church with new life, men began to see that to divorce the moral code of Christ from His constraining love, which alone can enable us to keep it, was an unhallowed act, upon which God's blessing can never rest, and that the exhortations of the Christian preacher should be something warmer, and more genial, and more persuasive than the moralizings of Seneca, Since that time, with the usual precipitancy of men to extremes, our divines have chiefly busied themselves with doctrine, and relinquished (or but feebly occupied) the ground of precept. The impression has been that people know every thing about Christian duty, and have no need to be enlightened on that head. And if by Christian duty be meant simply the moral law of God, in its outward, literal aspect, perhaps the impres- sion is more or less correct, at least as regards the educated classes. But if by Christian duty be meant sanctity of life and character, and a growing conformity to the image of the Lord Jesus, we must be pardoned for expressing our conviction that our best and most respectable congregations have very little insight into the thing itself, and still less into the method of its attainment. 1.^ now prcvalenty and the Causes of it, 13 Wo devote these pages, then, to giving some sug* :«>stions on the nature of Personal Kcligioii, and tlie K'thod of cultivating it, — a subject for the treatment •f which by the ministers of Christ it appears to us I hat the circumsCances of the time urgently call. Wo address our remarks more especially to those who per- ceive the hollownicss of a religion of merely good impressions, and who feel that, if there be vitality in he Christian principle within them, they ought, as years roll on, to be making progress. The mere earnest desire for a holier life, which is often found in such >uls, is something, — nay, it is much, — it is the fruit of ^race, it is the working in the inner man of the instinct which Baptism implanted. Take courage, brother ! Earnest desire of holiness is holiness in the germ thereof. Soon shalt thou know, if only thou wilt follow on to know, the Lord. But take one short and plain caution before we start. Sanctity is not the work of a day, but of a life. Growth in grace is subject to the same law of gradual and imperceptible advance as growth in nature. God's natural creation, Moses tells us, was built up step by step, out of its first rudiments. Who could have believed that the germs of all the fair objects which we behold in nature were in that void, and dark, and formless earth, over whose waters the Spirit of God spread His fostering wing ? And who could have be- lieved that in this heart of ours, — such a medley of passions, vanities, pettiness, ignorance, as now it is, — there should be the germs of every grace which can bloom in the garden of God — of child-like humility, ^-^a, and of heroic self-sacrifice 1 Yet so it is. Be but le to your convictions. Do but follow the instigations of that Spirit who hovered over the waters of your Baptism. Follow Him in darkness and light, through 14 0)1 the Chief Characteristic [pakt honor and dishonor, through evil report and good report, and in due time the new creation shall dawn within thee, and the fair fabric of God's spiritual king- dom shall be built up step by step, — " righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." CIIAPTEPv II. ON THE CHIEF CIIAEACTEKISTIC OF FEESONAL EELIGIOK " Grow in graced — 2 Pet. iii. 18. In our first Chapter we spoke of the low standard of Personal Eeligion now prevalent, and of the causes of it. We assumed that every one of our hearers would form a more or less correct idea of what was meant by Personal Religion, and thus that there was no need, — at all events at that early stage of the argument, — of any formal definition. The words spoke for themselves sufficiently to enable us to follow the line of thought, along which our minds were then travelling. We shall gain, as we proceed, a more distinct and more highly chiselled notion in connexion with them ; and such a notion, we trust, the present Chapter will convey. What is Personal Religion? What has been said already will have taught us that it is something more than a mere partaking in those sensations and in that general interest about religion, which are now so widely diffiised among the public. We have also seen that it is something distinct from good impressions on the tnind of the individual, which too often terminate upon I.] of Personal Religion, 15 themselves. Tliese, however, nre rather negative than positive features of it;* and, having intimated what it is not, we are now inquiring what it is. One positive characteristic, then, of Personal Kcligion — pcrliaps its chief positive characteristic — is, spiritual growth — the grgwth of the individual soul " unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." Pei^onal Religion involves growth in grace ; so that where there is growth, there is Personal Ri'li- gion ; and whore there is no growth, although there may bo interest in religious subjects, and keenness about controversies, and a perception of the importance of Divine truth, and a warm defence of orthodoxy, there Personal Religion is unknown. Now to say that Personal Religion is characterized by growth, is only another form of saying that the man who has it is spiritually alive. Growth in the animal and vegetable worlds is the sure sign, and the only sure sign of life. If a branch does not sprout, and put forth leaf and blossom in the spring, we know that it is a dead branch, — the sap which is the life of the tree does not reach it, is not circulating through it. If an infant lives, it grows, — increases in stature daily, while its features fill out gradually into that definite shape which they are to wear through life. But we need not restrict the remark to infants. The bodies of adults grow as really, though not as sensibly, as those of children. Particles of matter are continually flying off from our bodies, and being replaced by others ; so that, according to a very old and often- quoted computation, tbe whole mass of the human body undergoes an entire change, — becomes, in fact, a new body, — once in every seven years. This constant discharge of old particles, and accretion of new ones, IG On the Chief Characteristic [part though accompanied with no change of feature or stature, is growth ; and it is a sign of the vitality of the body. A dead body lacks the principle of life, by which alone nourishment can be taken in from air and food, and transmuted into the substance of the human frame. Now w^e know that nature is every where a parable of grace. Its being so is the basis of all those beau- tiful illustrations which are called the parables of our Lord. And in the case before us, nature furnishes a most important parable of religious truth. There is no organic life w^ithout growth in nature ; and there is no spiritual life without growth in grace. I say, no spiritual life, — no continuous state of life. Spiritual impulses there may be many. Impulses, however, are not life, though they may originate or restore life. Here again we resort to nature for an illustration. There is an agency connected with life called galvanism. You may galvanize a paralysed limb, and by galvanism may restore the circulation, and so restore life, to it. But the galvanism is not the life; it only rouses the dormant powers of life. Galvanism is a certain develop- ment of electricity, the same mysterious agent which in another form, darts to and fro among the clouds of heaven. The life of the limb, on the other hand, con- sists in its answering the purposes for which it was made, in its habitual subservience to the will, in the power of contracting and relaxing its muscles, when the will gives it notice to do so. Now the professing Christian, who is not spiritually alive, is a paralysed member of the Body of Christ. Impulses from a heavenly agent, the Holy Ghost, are ever and anon sent through the medium of God's ordinances into the Body of Christ, and impart a convulsive, fitful motion I,] of Personal Religion, 17 even to those limbs which are paralysed. It docs not, however, follow that the paralysed limbs are restored.. Ill some cases they may be; in some they may not. At all events, the fitful movement of the limb is one thing, its permanent vitality another. That glowing impression which you carried away from such a sermon, that seriousness which such a warning or such a bereave- ment left on your mind, may, after a convulsive move- ment of the soul — after saddening you for a week, or wringing a few tears from you — pass away for ever, and leave you still in a state of spiritual paralysis. Or it may really rouse the powers of life in your soul, may succeed in enlisting the whole machinery of the inner man, — understanding, aflections, will, in Christ's service, — may act as the first impulse in a career of holiness. Do not confound God's grace, its motions, in- fluences, instigations, inspirations, with spiritual life. It is on account of this confusion of thought that well- meaning persons often suppose all to be right with them because they are the subjects of so many good impres- sions. God's grace comes to us from without, in order to quicken spiritual life in us ; but the life itself is some- thing internal. The grace resembles the angel who troubled Bethesda's pool, and for a moment conveyed to it a healing virtue. The life of the water would have •nsisted in its being changed permanently from a liignant pool into a living spring, which as a fact was never done. To resume, then, our argument at the point from which we have slightly digressed. The question whether any of us has Personal Religion, resolves itself into a question whether he has in him a principle of spiritual growth ; and spiritual growth implies spiritual life. Pcr- lonal Religion therefore is, in fact, one and the same 18 On the Chief Characteristic [part thing with the spiritual life of the individual soul. — And now let us turn, at this early period of the discussion, to examine our own consciences upon the truth which wq have already gained. It must, I suppose, stand to reason that nothing but a Personal Eeligion will stand Us in stead at the last day. The individual will then be the object of the Divine scrutiny ; not the society in which he has moved, and whose sentiments, habits, and circumstances have perhaps reflected upon him a super- ficial tinge of piety. Society is made up of individuals ; and the sentiments of society are ultimately formed and determined by the sentiments of individuals ; and there- fore God, who searches all deep things, will examine at that day microscopically the little world of the in- dividual's mind. " And when the king came in to see the guests," says our Saviour, " he saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment." He saw there a man ; one man, — singular ; — not that there will not be found at the last day hundreds of thousands of souls in the same sad plight as this poor man ; but to teach us forcibly, by the selection of a single specimen, that no one shall pass muster in the crowd, that not only all, but each must be judged, — that upon each soul in that awful crisis the full glare of Divine Omniscience must be turned in — that the religion which alone vnll then abide must be personal, deep, individual. Is ours then at present a Personal Religion ? Is it a growing one % Is there a principle of growth in it ? Does it wax stronger against tempt- ations, more stedfast in faith, more constant and more fervent in prayer, as years roll on ? Are our views of God and of Christ gradually enlarging and clearing, and becoming more adequate % Are they more humbling to ourselves, but at the same time more inwardly satis factory and consolatory than they usedto be % Are be* I.J of Personal Religion, 19 Botting sins more resolutely and successfully mortified than they used to bo? Are our souls, though sometimes stirred by spiritual emotions, lilto Bcthesda's pool? or is the Spirit's agency in tiiem deep, profound, eternal — " a well of water springing up into everlasting life ?" Header, seeing that on the answer to these questions our all is suspended, it behoves us to be very careful in answering them. Is my religion a growing one ? In that word *' growing" the decision of the whole ques- tion is wrapped up. Mark the point, I pray you, and keep to it. The point is not whetlier I have very lively feelings, very warm emotions in conneJcion with religion (those are often constitutional and dependent on physical temperament), but whether I am growing ? The point is not> whether I fulfil certain duties, social and religious, with commendable regularity (a reflec- tion satisfactory enough as far as it goes, but not bearing on the present question), but, whether I am growing ? And again the point is not (God forbid that it should be ! ) whether I am coming up to the standard of character and conduct, which I have set before myself? whether I am satisfied with my own life? whether 1 am as yet near to the mind and image of Christ? whether I am in sight of the goal of perfection ? — not this, but simply, " Am I grow- ing ?" This one little word is the test, which, faith- fully applied, shall reveal to us our state. But how to apply it? how to be sure that we are applying it right ? Methinks I hear some reader ask whether this growth is consistent with frequent relapses, with the backslidings (some of them very serious) of which he is only too conscious ? To which wo answer, with some assurance, ** Yes, if the faU have been one of infirmity ; if the will has (so to say; picked itself up afterwards, 20 On the Chief Characteristic [paet and, though bruised and bleeding, gone manfully forward, giving its hand once again to the Lord Jesus, and consenting heartily (as before) to His guidance.'* There may be health and vitality in a constitution plagued with sickness ; and if there be such a vitality, it will enable the constitution to throw the sickness off. We do not for a moment desire to excuse sin ; but at the same time God's people should be instructed, for their comfort, that there is a wonderful economy in His Kingdom of Grace, by which 'He sometimes brings even out of relapses (as in the case of the. foil of St. Peter) a burst of penitent love and zeal, which gives the soul a most powerful forw^ard impulse. The Apostle had denied Christ in a moment of weakness ; but he rises from the denial at once, when his Master's look recalled him to himself, and goes out and weepr> bitterly. Soon afterwards we discover that he has grown in grace. We see him throwing himself into the water, and wading ashore to meet the Lord, — av mute but very touching way of saying that his affection is now more zealous than ever. As an illustration of this law in the Kingdom of Grace, consider the move- ment of the tide when it is coming in. It is movement upon the whole. The water is sure to cover that dry beach in two or three hours' time, and to float that stranded sea-w^eed ; but it is not a movement without relapses. Each wave, I suppose, gains a little ground, but each wave falls back as soon as it has plashed upon the shore. Even so in the Christian life, there may be a forward movement on the whole, consistently with many relapses, though this assertion requires to be guarded by the observation that the relapses must be such as proceed from infirmity, and not from malice prepense. Deliberate, habitual sin, cannot possibly I.) onallUligion, 21 consist with spiritual growth ; but the shaking of a man*s stodfjustiicss by a sudden tornado of temptation (which was St. Peter's case) may do so. The great question is whether, after every such fall, the will recovers its spring and elasticity, and malscs a fresh Ntart with new and more fervent prayer and resolve Indeed, the malving many fresh starts afler relapses of infirmity is a hopeful sign of growth. In order to any i^reat attainment in spiritual life, there must be an indomitable resolve to try and try again, and still to begin anew amidst jnuch failure and discouragement. On warm dewy mornings in the spring vegetation makes a shoot ; and when wo rise, and throw open the window, we mark that the May is blossoming in the liedgerows. And those periods when a man can say, '' I lost myself sadly yesterday in temper or in talk ; ))ut I know that my crucified Lord took upon Him those sins and answered for them, and to-day I will earnestly strive against them in the strength of His Spirit, invoked into my soul by earnest prayer :" these are the warm dewy mornings of the soul, when the spiritual life within us sprouts and blossoms apace. Again, it should be remembered, lest any whom the r.ord hath not made sad should be put out of heart by he application of the test, that all real growth is very slow, and its actual progress imperceptible. The seed sown on stony ground, which forthwith sprang up, because it had no deepness of earth, proved a failure. Jonah's gourd, which came up in a night, perished also in a night. We never see plants actually growing; we only take notice that they have grown. He who would form a sound judgment of his spiritual progress must throw his eye over long, not short, intervals of lime. He must compare tho self of this year with the 22 On the Chief Character latic [paet self of last ; not the self of to-day with the self of yesterday. Enough if amid the divers and shifting experiences of the world, and the manifold internal self-communings arising thereupon, that delicate plant, spiritual life, has grappled its fibre a little deeper into the soil than it seemed to have done in an earlier stage of our pilgrimage, now fairly past. Let those characters, for whom they are designed, take to themselves the comfort of these considerations. But let not the indolent and formal derive from them the slightest encouragement. Again we say, that the one sign of vital Personal Eeligion is grow'th. There is no growth in a life of spiritual routine, in a mechanical performance of duties, however important, or a mechanical attendance upon ordinances, however sacred. There is no growth without zeal and fervor^ and that sort of enthusiastic interest in religion, with which a man must take up any thing if he wishes to succeed in it. There is no growth in the deliberato adoption of a low standard, in the attempt to keep back a moiety of the heart from Christ, in consenting to go with God thus far only, and no further. There is no growth in contenting ourselves with respectability, and declining the pursuit of holiness. There is no growth without fervent prayer, "in spirit and in truth." And, finally, there is no growth (whatever be the hopes with which we ma}^ be flattering ourselves) without continual and sincere effort. But it is now time to conclude this chapter. And we will do so by remarking that if an examination of conscience should show that we are not growing in grace, there is but one alternative, which is that we are falling back. An awful truth ; but one as infallibly certain as any other phenomenon of our moral state. I . ] of Personal Religion, Neither in mind nor body does man ever "continue in one stay." His body, as wo have seen, is constantly throwing off old particles of matter, and appropriating new ones. Every breath ho breathes, every exertion of his muscles and limbs, every particle of food ho swallows, makes some minute change in the bodily framework, so that it is never entirely the same. Of each individual among us it may be said with truth at any given moment, that he is either rising to, or de- clining from, the prime of life and the maturity of his physical powers. And the mind no less than the body is in a continual flux. It too has its moral element, the society in which it lives, — it too has its nourish- ment, which it is constantly imbibing, — the influences of the world and the lower nature, or those of the Spirit of God. One or other of these influences is always imperceptibly passing into the mind and effecting a gradual change. And the awful thought is, that if the change is not for the better, it must be for the worse ; if the mind is not appropriating the higher, it must be appropriating the lower influences ; if there ' is no growth in grace, there must be a growth in worldliness aijd sin. Strictly speaking, nothing is morally indifllerent ; every moral action leaves its npress upon moral character. Our fireside conver- sations, our thoughts as we pass along the streets to our daily work, our spirit in the transaction of business, all have some amount, small though it be, of moral value ; all are tending more or less remotely to form the character ; amid all, and through all, we arc either making spiritual progress or falling back from the mark. With what solemnity do these thoughts Invest even the most trifling incidents of life ! It is impossible to pass through them and come out the C4 Of the entire dependence [part same ; — we are changed either for the better or for the worse. We will look to it, then, that in future at ^east it shall be for the better. If it have been hithert( ior the worse, we will this very hour embrace thf.t already purchased pardon, which obliterates in an instant the guilt of a whole past career of sin, and that grace, proffered by Christ no less gratuitously, which renews the will unto newness of life. And to- morrow we will, in the strength of that grace, make a new beginning, taking up this anthem into our mouths : " All my fresh springs shall be in Thee." CHAPTER III. OF THE ENTIEE DEPENDENCE OF SANCTITY ON CllIllST, AND OF THE RELATION WHICH THE MEANS OF GRACE HOLD TO HIM. *^ Abide in 3 fe, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine ; no more can i/e, except ye abide in Me, " I am the vine, ye are the branches : he that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much, fruit-: for with- out Me ye can do nothing^ — St. John xv. 4, 5. The subject of this treatise is Personal Religion, or in other words, that " holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord." It is evident that we shall be liable to misapprehend the subject fundamentally, unless we have at the outset a clear notion of the nature of Christian holiness. It is to give the reader this clear notion that the present chapter will be devoted. In the passage which f lands at the head of it, there r.] of S.f.r;:^., . is a sliglit inaccuracy ut tr.uisiauon. wnicii rc(|uirc.s lo be set riglit before the force of Our Lord's words can bo thoroughly appreciated. " Without Me ye can do no- t^nng," should ratlier be rendered, **Apart from Me," ^parato from Me," "in a state of indepcixdcnce on Mqj ye can do nothing." " Apart from Mo," by no means conveys the same idea as " Without Mo." The latter would imply merely that unless Christ concurred " ith His people in their cflbrts, they could do nothing. Vpart from Me," goes beyond this. It implies that lie is the alone originating source of all sanctity in them. "Without" the concurrence and assistance of a ong person, a weak one cannot lift a heavy weight ; Dut the dependence of the weak person on the strong in order to lift the weight, is not the dependence which the word here employed indicates. " Apart from " the sold (or principle of life) the body is motionless, and mot stir a finger. This is the sort of dependence indicated in the passage before us. Christ is to the Christian the alone source of sanctification or spiritual life, just as the soul is to the body the alone source of natural life. I do not know that any other prefatory observation is needed, except that " the fruit " mentioned in this passage generically is specifically, and in detail, those fruits of the Spirit which are enumerated by St. Paul in Gal. v., " Love, joy, peace, longsufTering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." The fruit consists in certain holy tempers and affections of heart, the possession of which will uniformly ensure right conduct, but which are much more easily seen to be absolutely dependent upon Christ's working than right conduct itself is. If a man be commanded by •d to do any action whatsoever, he can string up his 2 26 Of the entire dependence [paet will to do it. But when certain sentiments and dispo- sitions are required of him, which involve a thorough change of the heart's natural propensities, that is another matter. The affections are far less under the will's control than the actions are. — That these gracious sentiments and dispositions are called by the Apostle, fruits of the Spirit, and by His Divine Master, fruit proceeding from himself, the true Vine, need not cause any difficulty. In Christ dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. He is the smitten Rock of the wilderness, through whom alone the living'waters force their passage to polluted man. His glorified humanity is the appointed receptacle of Grace, from which Gracf^ emanates into all the moral universe. Hence the Spirit is called the Spirit of God's Son. The great subject brought before us by the passage is, that THE sanctification of the Christian, like HIS justification, is entirely dependent upon our Lord. As regards our Justification, this is clearly seen (at least in the Reformed Churches) and generally admitted. That Christ alone can atone for sin; that His Blood and nothing else can procure the pardon of it ; that on the ground of His merit exclusively we can find accept- ance with God, reinstatement in his favour, and admis- sion to His Presence ; that " all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags," and that therefore we must look out of ourselves for a righteousness which can stand the scrutiny of God's judgment, and that such a righteous ness, white as the driven snow, is to be found in Christ only, — all this, whatever reception such a doctrine might have met with half a century ago, is now so thoroughly established, and has gained such a footing Id 1.] of S"„rr ,ist, 27 tlio. miiitls ot' religious poopio, liiat to prove it iVmiu Holy Scripture to pcraons of ordinary religious a<- Iremcnts would be altogether superfluous. But it is thought that, unlike Justification, (which ia s. »incthing that passes on the sinner externally to him, a sentence of acquittal pronounced on him by God, in consideration of Our Lord's merits,) Sanctification is a process within us (which no doubt is true); and hence it is erroneously inferred that it is carried on much more independently of Christ than Justification is; that human will, efibrt, and exertion contribute very mainly to it, and that Christ is not the all in all of it, t " our strength " in the same way and to the same extent as He is "our righteousness." And hence a false notion of holiness springs up in many minds, and finds such a lodgment that it is very dlfticult to dis- possess it. Holiness is supposed to be an achievement mastered at length — much as a lesson is mastered — by a variety of exercises, prayers, fastings, meditations, almsdeeds, self-discipline. Sacraments ; and when mas- red, a sort of permanent acquisition, which goes on increasing as the stock of these spiritual exercises ac- cumulates. It is not regarded in its true light as a momentary receiving out of Christ's fulness grace for grace, as the result of His inworking in a heart, which finds the task of self-renewal hopeless, and makes itself over to Him, to be moulded by His plastic hands, re- signing, of course, its will to Him in all things, without which resignation such a surrender would be a horrible hypocrisy. Now let us take up the illustrations of this truth ; and first His own illustration, the wisest, profoundest, and most beautiful of all. "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine ; no more 28 Of the entire dependence [part can ye, except yc abide in Me ;" " Apart from Me ye can do nothing." The circulating sap, which is the life of the tree, is indeed in the vine-branch, so long as it holds on the stem ; but in no sense whatever is it from the vine-branch. Cut off the branch from the stem, and it ceases instantaneously to live, for it has no independent life. Even so the fruits of the Spirit, while of course our hearts are the sphere of their manifestation, are in no sense fi-om our hearts ; they are not the result of the energizing of our own will ; they are not a right- eousness of our own, built up by a series of* endeavours, or a laborious process of self-discipline, but a righteous- ness outflowing continually from the fulness of Grace wnich is in Christ. Another illustration may perhaps help to impress the truth. When we walk abroad on a beautiful day, and survey a landscape lit up by the beams of a sum- mer sun, our eye catches a variety of colours lying on the surface of this landscape, — there is the yellow of the golden grain, the green of the pasture-land, the dark brown of those thick-planted copses, the silver gleam of the stream which winds through them, the faint blue of distant hills seen in perspective, the more intense blue of the sky, the purple tinge of yonder sheet of water ; but none of these colours reside in the landscape, they are not the properties of the material objects on which they rest. All colours are wrapped up in the sunlight, which, as is well known, may be seen resolved into its elementary colours in the prism or the rainbow. Apart from the sunlight no object ^as any colour ; as is shown by the fact that, as soon as Light is withdrawn from the landscape, the colours iade from the robe of Nature. The diffeience of colour hi different objects, v/hile the sun is shining, is produced i] of Sanctity on ChrisL 21> l«y some subtle differences of texture or superficies, which makes each object absorb certain rays, and '•'^flcct certain other rays, in different proportions. ^'•w Christ is the Sun of Righteousness, in Whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, — the fair colour of every grace and Christian virtue. When Christ is shining upon the heart, then these virtues : ro manifested there by one Christian grace of one scription, by another of another, according to their different receptivity and natural temperament, just as, when the sun is shining, colours are thrown upon a idscape, and reflected by the different objects in dif- kTcnt proportions. But as no part of the landscaj^e has any colour in the absence of the sun, nor can acquire any independently of the sun, so Christians have no grace except from Christ, nor hold any virtue independently of Ilim. Let it be clearly understood, then, that the great cret of bringing forth much fruit, or, in other words, of all advance in grace and holiness, is according to the profound teaching of Our Lord Himself, a constant keeping open (and if possible, enlarging) the avenues of the soul towards Ilim. If a vine-branch is to sprout and throw out new suckers and shoots, the tube by which it communicates with the stock of the tree must adhere tightly to the stem, and be well open for the passage of the sap. Jf you desire to see the colours of furniture in this room, whose shutters are closed, throw open the shutters, and admit the full flood of sunlight. And if you desire to see the dead heart put forth the energies of spiritual life, and the dark heart illumined by the fair colours of spiritual grace, throw wide open the passage of communication between Christ and it^ and allow the Life which is in Ilim, and the Light 30 Of the entire dei^endence [pari which is ill Him, to circulate freely through it. — But how to do this ? in other words, how to fulfil His own precept, " Abide in Me, and I in you T Ah ! vitally important question, — question upon which the whole of our sanctification (and thus the whole of our sal- vation) is suspended! Let us address ourselves to answer it, with the earnest prayer that God would guide us into all truth. Observe that our Lord prescribes mutual indwell- ing, as the secret of spiritual fertility. Take heed that ye "abide in Me, and I in you." Here is. not one idea only, but two ; the dwelling of the Christian in Christ, as the body dwells in an atmosphere, and the dwell- ing of Christ in the Christian, as the soul dwells in the body. I. Take lieed, first, that " ye abide in Me." This is done by faith. As we first consciously entered into fellowship with Christ by faith (I say consciously entered into fellowship with him, for when we were baptised as infants, we entered unconsciously into His fellowship), so there is no other way to abide in Him, than by repeated exercises of the same faith. The faith which enables the soul to abide in Christ is nothing else than an assured trust and confidence on our part, that, as He has already wrought out for us our acceptance with God, so He will work in us every gracious disposition (be it repentance, or faith itself, or humility, or hope, or love) which is necessary to qualify us for glory. It is not enough to supplicate these graces ; we must lean upon Him for them, and fix the eye of expectation upon the promise of Plis new Covenant ; " I will put My laws into their mind, and write_^them in their hearts:" being well assured that He will fulfil to us the terms thereof. There is a pro- i] of Sanelity on Christ, 31 lisOy I say, that IIo vrill fulfil in uft all tho work of viiictificatioii ; and it is well that it is so, by way f making assurance doubly sure, and giving to tho doubtful heart a stronger consolation. But even were •hero no promise, could it be a question as to wliethcr lo would form in us those tempers and frames of mind, \shich IIo Himself requires of us 1 Do wo seriously believe that He loved us so intensely as to abdicate His throne in Heaven for our sakes, to empty Himself of all the glory which He had with tlve Father before tho world was, to confine Himself within the limits of man's feeble faculties, and feebler body, to expose Himself to shame, and spitting, and obloquy, and a death most oruel and ignominious*? If we do not believe as much as this, we are clearly no Christians. And if we do believe thus much, is it conceivable that He who has gone to the utmost verge of self-sacrifice in ransoming our souls, should be wanting to us in what will cost Him no sacrifice, but yet is necessary to complete our salvation ? If the soul has the least scintillation of a desire to be holy ; much more, if it is bent on being holy, as far as its power goes ; still more if it is striving and struggling to be holy, and beating against the cage of its corruptions in a great longing for spiritual free- dom, as a poor imprisoned bird beats, who sees outside the bright sun and the green trees, and other birds flitting to and fro in the blue ether, — is it conceivable tliat the Incarnate Love, tho Love which bled, and agonized, and poured itself out in death for the objects < 11 which it had fastened, should not meet that desire, that longing, that striving, and visit the soul with power? As without holiness no man shall (or c;in) see the Lord, must not Christ be much more earnestly anxious to make us holy, than we can be to be made 32 Of the entire dependence [part sol If we do not believe in this earnest anxiety of His, do we believe in His love at all *? Have we ever really apprehended it ; or has it been merely a tale recited to our ears, which we do not care indeed to con- tradict, but which has never at all taken hold of, or touched, our hcftrts 1 Ah ! what if these struggles to be holy should them- selves be in a certain sense a token of unbelief? What if the poor bird imprisoned in the cage should be thinking that, if it is ever to gain its liberty, it must be by its own exertions, and by vigorous and frequent strokes of its winojs af]fainst the bars % If it did so, it would ere long fall back breathless and exhausted, fliint and sore, and despairing. And the soul will have a similar ex- perience, which thinks that Christ has indeed won par- don and acceptance for her, but that Sanctification she must win for herself, and under this delusion beats herself sore in vain efforts to correct the propensities of a heart which the Word of God pronounces to be "desperately" wicked. That heart, — you can make nothing of it yourself; — leave it to Christ, in quiet dependence upon His grace. Suffer Him to open the prison-doors for you, and then you shall fly out and hide yourself in your Lord's Bosom, and there find rest. Yield up the soul to Him, and place it in His hands ; and you shall at once begin to have the delightful ex- perience of His power in sanctifying. " Yield up the soul," we say. And in saying so, we of course imply (though it needs to be expressed, as well as implied) that you yield up your will with- out reserve. There is no such thing as yielding up the soul, without yielding up the will ; for the will is the chief power of the soul. Christ Himself cannot sanc- tify a moral agent, whose will holds persistently to his I I of Sanctity on Christ. 38 .ruptions. Even a man cannot liberate tt bird from its cage, which likes to stay there, refuses to move when the dour Is opened, and flies back when it is taken out God has given us a free will, the exercise of which cannot indeed change our hetirts or renew our moral nature, but which can say " Nay " to the world, to the flesh, and the devil; which shows that it can say " Nay," by saying it sometimes, when worldly interests are concerned. And this " Nay " it must say, if the soul is to be sanctified and bring forth fruit. II. But our blessed Lord said not only "Abide in Me," but also " Let Mo, or take heed that I, abide in you." lie thus teaches us that Ordinance, as well as Faith, forms part of the system of His religion, and especially that Ordfnance, in which indeed all others are included, by which He communicates Himself to the faithful soul. In order to the fruitfulncss of the vine- branch, two conditions have to be fulfilled ; the first that the branch shall adliero closely to the stem, and offer an open tube for the passage of the sap, — this is the abiding of the branch in the vine ; the second, that the sap shall rise ever and anon from the vine-stock, and pass into the branch, — this is the abiding of the vine in the branch. Similarly in the case of the ristian. The first condition of his spiritual fruitful- ncss is that he shall adhere by a close trust to Christ, and keep open towards Him the avenues of faith, 'hope, and expectation. This is, " Abide in Me." The second is, that Christ shall continually send up into his heart a current of holy inspirations, new loves, good impulses, devout hopes. Or, more accurately, that He shall communicate Himself to the soul by the continual influx of the Holy Ghost. Tliis is, " And I in you.** And this communication of Himself is made specially 34 Of the entire dependence [pari (where that Sacrament may be. had) in the Supper of the Lord ; He comes at those seasons into the opened avenue of the faithful communicant's soul, comes to cement by His own passage into the inner man the union in which our faith cleaves to II im ; and the result is " the strengthening and refreshing of our souls by the Body and Blood of Christ, as our bodies are by the Bread and Wine." Thus a devout and frequent use of the Sacrament appointed for spiritual growth, and as the instrument of Christ's indwelling, is, though not literally expressed in this passage, clearly implied. And it should be observed that the Divine allegory quite precludes the supposition that without faith in the recipient the Holy Supper will avail any thing for sanctification and growth in grace. The vine-stock may push upwards its sap in strong current, at the first outburst of the genial spring; but what will that avail the branch, which does not hold closely to the tree, which is half broken off from the stem, and the fracture filled up with dust, or corroded by insects ? Christ may offer Himself to us in the Lord's Supper ; but, if the soul cleaves not to Him, if the avenues of the heart are not open towards Him, how can He enter ? Finally ; it is particularly important in speaking of Christ's communication with us by Ordinances, to recognize the exact position which the Ordinance holds, so as not to estimate it unduly, or erect it into the place which is due only to the Lord of the Ordinance. Be it clearly understood, then, that no Ordinance (not even Holy Communion itself) is otherwise valuable than as a channel or vehicle of communication with tlie Church's Lord. They are all (even the highest and holiest) so many tubes, through which the sap of i] of Sanctity on Christ, 35 ; :,i> .' rises from tho vine-stock into the branches. I r whih i.;ison, ill advocating tho devout use of Ordi 1 inccs, Avc do not in the slightest degree derogate iVom our Lord's honour, nor direct tho eye of the mind to another point of sight than Him. It is not to bo iiniigined for a moment that a man by prayers, and fsistings, and meditations, and Sacraments, lays in a stock of holiness, which becomes to him so much realized spiritual gain, upon which he may draw in ase a spiritual bankruptcy should threaten him at the n our of death or the day of judgment. Away with such ideas, which are a modern form of Pharisaism I These Ordinances are precious and blessed for no other reason than that they bring us into relation, by His own institution of them, with the great Head of tho Church; and except we stand in such relation, and Accpt such relation is from time to time renewed, and vmeuted, and strengthened, there is no life in us. Of ith itself the same remark might be made. There - no intrinsic merit in trusting to Christ, just as there s no intrinsic merit in praying and communicating; Imt fiiith is the ordained inward means, as Prayers and Sacraments are the ordained outward means, of com- munication with the One Source of Life and Sanctity. An illustration may sometimes serve a good turn in keeping truth distinctly before the mind. I therefore offer the following illustration of the mutual relations between Christ, our faith, and Christian Ordinances. A woman, like the Samaritan in the Gospel, comes with a pitcher to draw water at a well. Her object is to reach and procure the water ; and she does this by letting down the pitcher into the well, and drawing it up again. It is at once understood that the pitcher is not the same thing as the muscular action, by which it 86 Of the entire dependence of Sanctity on Christ, [pari is let down and drawn up. Both must contribute to the result; for without either pitcher or muscular action no water could be obtained ; but the pitcher is external to the person, the muscular action a move- ment of the person. It is also clearly seen that neither pitcher nor muscular action are water, — that the arm might put itself forth for ever, and the pitcher be let down continually, but that if it were a dry pit into which the vessel were lowered, no refreshment could be had thereb3^ The figure is easy o-f application. Christ is the Well of the Water of Life, from Whom alone can be drawn those streams of Grace, which refresh, and quicken, and fertilize the soul. It is by faith that the soul reaches out after this living water ; faith is the soul's muscular action, by which the water is drawn up and brought into use. But faith needs as an implement those means which Christ has appointed, and parti- cularly the mean of means, which He instituted for the conveyance of Himself to faithful souls. These means are the pitcher, iii which the water is conveyed. Faith is not a Christ ; neither are Sacraments a Christ ; but faith (under all circumstances) and Sacraments, where they may be had, are necessary to the appropriation and enjoyment of Christ. Oh for more faith, more of the principle which cleaves closely in trust, and affiance, and self-surrender, to the Lord ! It is not in the use of means, generally speaking, that religious persons are deficient ; but it is in that believing use of them, which recognizes Him as the only Source of Grace and Life, and having done His will with simplicity, assures itself of the blessing. O Truei Vine, let us cleave to Thee with such a faith, so that the virtue which is in Thee may pass into our souls, and that we may bring forth much fruit, to the glory of God the* Father ! Amen. I.] Personal Jiell(/hn both Active and Contemplative. J57 ^t^ie' CHAPTER I PKKSONAL RELIGION BOTH ACTIVE AND COlTrEilrLATIVi: " In the year thai Kinrj Uznah died laaw aUothe Lord tilting upon a throne^ high and lifted vp^ and hi* (rain /lied the temple. '* Above it ttood the Serapfiimt : each one had six winge : with twain he covered hit/ace^ and with twain he covered his/ect^ atid with twain he did Jig:'— 1&^ vL 1, 2. We are speaking of Personal Religion, which has been explained to be one and the same thing with the life of < lod in the individual soul. In this Chapter we propose ) trace out the two great divisions of the subject. We are taught by our Lord Himself to pray that God's will may be done " upon earth, as it is in heaven." Tlie persons by whom it is done in heaven, are, of • >urse, the holy angels. Our Lord, therefore, in bidding us offer this petition, proposes to us the angelic life as the model of the Giristian life. And this throws us back upon the inquiry what the life of angels is ; fur manifestly we cannot form our life upon their model, unless we have some sufficient idea of their pursuits and occupations. Accordingly, the Scripture furnishes such an idea. Tlie veil is drawn aside by the ]>rophet Isaiah, and a glimpse is given us of the life of ^ raphim, or "burning ones" (for such is the meaning ! the Hebrew word), an order of angels who in all lobabjlity take their name from the fervent zeal and •burning love with which they are animated. The prophet sees in a vision these shining creatures standing 38 Personal Religion Lpaiii above the throne of Christ (for it was He, St. John informs us, whose glory Isaiah saw on this occasion) ; and their occupations were twofold : first, contemplative devotion ; secondly, quick and active service. " Each one had six wings ; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet ;" — this is the Seraphim's life of devotion. " And with twain he did fly ;" — this is his life of active service. If, then, God's will is to be done by His people on earth, as it is by His angels in Heaven, there must enter into the spiritual life upon earth two great elements, devotion towards God, and work for God. We will take a general view of each of these. Subsequent Chapters will prosecute the subject in detail under these two heads. I. The spiritual or angelic life upon earth consists not only of devotion. To suppose that the spiritual life is devotion, and nothing else, is the mistake of the recluse, the ascetic, and the monk. One round of religious service, one long peal of the organ from matins to evensong, one prayer unbroken, except by the actual necessities of the body, and by these as little as may be, — this is the idea of conventual life, though it may be an idea never realized to the full extent. And quite apart from the conventual system, wherever there are multiplied religious services (a great help, of course, if used in a certain way), and leisure and the will to attend on them, there is always a tendency, against which the devout man must be on his guard, to wrap up the whole of religion in attendance upon the means of grace. But the Seraph himself, though indeed the spirit of adoration is upon him always, is not always engaged in direct acts of praise. " With twain of his wings he doth fly," — speed forth, like lightning; upon the errands on which God sends him. Gabriel, i] boUi Active and Contemplative, 39 who stands in tho proscnco of God, must coLie down to the earth, and enter beneath a humble roof in Naznrcth, to salute a pure maiden as mother of tho Son of God. Another angel has it in charge to descend periodically iii^o the pool of Bcthesda, and impart to the waters a healing efllcacy, sufficient for one patient. Another is sent to roll back the stone from tho Holy Sepulchre, and sit upon it, inspiring the Roman guard with terror, and the holy women with an assurance of tho resur- rection. Another must pass into St. Peter's prison- house, and lead him out through bolt, and bar, and iron grating, "to freedom and cool moonlight air." Another must shoot down, like a falling star, into the cabin of a ship tossed with the waves of the stormy Adriatic, and announce to St. Paul that despite all the fury of the elements, he and all the crew, of which he formed a part, were safe in life and limb ; while another is commissioned to salute by name a praying centurion of the Italian band, and to assure him that his prayers and his alms had come up as a memorial before God. Thus One and all of them are, not merely adoring spirits, but also " ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those who shall be heirs of salvation." Praise is not their only occupation ; they have active work to do for God. leader, there is a deep-seated necessity for work in the constitution of our nature. In tho absence of regular and active occupation, the mind is apt to grow morbid, stagnant, and what is worse than either — selfish. One of the greatest thinkers of antiquity defined happiness to be "a;i energy of the soul." And is it not true 1 Only watch the avidity with which men, even in extreme old ago, when one would think that the interests of this life were on the wane for 40 Personal Beligion [paei them, catch at some exciting pursuit, like politics. The lesson, which as Christians we should draw from this observation, is that most unquestionably God has made man for activity, as well as for contemplation. Tlie reason why the activity fails in numberless in- stances to secure happiness, is that it is separated from God, that it) is not in His service and interests. This being the case, it too often engrosses, hampers, en- tangles, impedes, — is as a dead weight to the soul, instead of, as it might be, a wing,*and a means of fur- therance. Let every one, therefore, who studies Personal Ee- ligion, seriously consider, first, in what quarter lies the work which God has given him to do ; and next, how he may execute that work in a happy and a holy frame of mind. I need not say that the services on which God condescends to employ men are almost infinitely various. Each one of us has a stewardship somewhere in the great social system, and some gift qualifying him for it; and if he will but consult faithfully the intimations of God's providence, he will not be long before he discovers what it is. It may be that we are called to very humble duties, duties very low down in f;he social scale. Still even they are held from God, and constitute a stewardship ; and the one talent which qualifies us for them will have to be accounted for as much as if it were ten talents. To regard the business attaching to any station of life as insignificant, is as unreasonable as it is un scriptural. St. Paul says of the human body, that God has "given honour to those members which lacked." The same may be said of society. Its whole fabric and framework is built up of humble duties accurately fulfilled by persons in humble stations. What would become of society, and how I . I both Active and Coniemplative, 41 uld its well-being and progress bo secured, if all the subordinates in every department of life, all those who have to play the more mechanical parts, were to throw up their callings on the excuse that tliey were not sufficiently dignified? IIow would it fare with the plans of the architect, if the builders and masons throughout the country were to suspend their labours ? But we need not reason upon the subject, where the Word of God has spoken so explicitly. The Scripture, with that wonderful penetration into the thoughts of man which characterizes its every page, has taken care to set the seal of dignity and sacrednesa upon those callings and employments which are lowest in the social scale. Our Blessed Lord, when learning of tho» doctors in the Temple, and through their instruction growing in wisdom, teaches us that to be engaged thus in childhood is to be about our Father's business. We naturally look do^vn upon a child learning a lesson, and think that it is no great matter whether the lesson bo learned or not. Christ opens a widely different view of the subject, when he connects even a child's growth in wisdom >\ith its relation to God. " Wist ye not that I must be in the things of my Father ?" {Iv toi? tov Trarpos ftov.) But still more remarkable, perhaps, in its bearing on our present subject, is the treatment of the duties of servants in the New Testament. These servants were slaves, and mostly slaves to heathen masters. If ever duty took a degrading form, it must have done so quently in their case. If ever of any calling one night say, "There is no divine stewardship in it," this might have been said surely of slavery among the heathens. Yet it is recognized in the strongest way, -hat even the slave's duties may be sanctified bv im 42 Personal Meligion [pari porting into them a Christian motive, and that when such a motive is imported into them, the service is really done not to the human master, but (marvellous condescension !) to the great Head of the Church Him- self. " Stirvants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh : not with eye-service, as men- pleasers ; but in singleness of heart, fearing God : and whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance : for ye serve the Lord ChristP No less truly, then, than .quaintly did good George Herbert sing : "All may of Thee partake: Nothing can be so mean, Which with this tincture (for Thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean. " A servant with this clause Alukes drudgery divine. Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, Makes that and the action fine." Now if both a child's education, and a slave's drudgery find their place in the vast system of God's service, what lawful calling can we suppose to be ex- cluded from a place in that system ? n. But we remark, secondly, that there is a con- templative element in the service of the Seraphim,— that their activity is fed from the springs of their devotion. There are two chief passages of Holy Scrip- ture (one in the Old and one in the New Testament) in which we obtain a glimpse of angels engaged in worship. One is that before us, in which the prophet sees the Seraphim, with veiled faces and feet, crying one to another before the throne, " Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts ; the whole earth is full of His glory." i] f>'>fh Active ana Contemplative, 43 riiis was a heavenly scene. It was enacted in the Temple, whicli represented Heaven. But in the New Testament we find the Seraphim domesticating them- selves upon earth, in the outlying field of a village wliere cattle were penned. When the Lord of Heaven, laying aside the robe of light and the tiara of the linbow, appeared among us in the form of an infant ! :idled in a manger, lie drew an escort of the Seraphim iler Him: "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." The ministry of angels then, is only half their life. The other half, which indeed makes their ministry glow with zeal, is their worship. And so it must bo with God's human servants. The activity which flows from ambition, the dili- gence which is purely mechanical and the result of habit, is not angelic diligence and activity. To attempt to lead the spiritual lifb without devotion is oven a greater mistake than to go apart from our ld good if examined. The air from the casement is ry delicious, very healthful, very refreshing, very invi- gorating ; it is a good thing to stand at the casement and inhale it ; but there must bo air in the shop, in the fac- tory, in the office, as well as at the casement, if the man, as he works, is to survive. Under this view of it, ojaculatory prayer is seen to bo 'even a more essential thing than stated prayer. Both are necessary to the well-being of the Christian life ; but the momentary liflliig the heart to God, — the momentary realization of His presence amidst business or under temptation, — is necessary to its very being. The life is no more, when this work is suspended. For which reason probably it is that the great a]>ostolic prayer-precept is given with a breadth which excludes all limitations of time and place, — " Pray without ceasing." Ejaculatory prayer, how- t ver, must by and by form the subject of a distinct < hapter, which we will not now anticipate. Keader, our subject assumes, as wo progress with it, a more definite shape in our minds. Personal Religion, as we saw in our last Chapter, involves growth. Per- sonal Keligion, as we now see, involves prayer, — in- cluding under that term all the exercises of devotion, both public and private. Tlien are we men of prayer % Let the conscience take home this question and answer it faithfully. Let the conscience of men, and of men of 48 Personal Religion both Active and Contem^ilative. business, take it home. It is a man's question, and a busy man's question, rather than a woman's. Women as a general rule have more leisure than men, and have certainly more of that constitutional temperament, which, when God's grace visits it, inclines to devotion. It is in a hard, busy, bustling life, a life which asks an active and unimaginative mind, and which chills all approach to sentiment, — in short it is in the life of a man of business habits that the temptation to live without prayer is felt. How then, in your case and in mine, can the searching question be met ? Widely as in different ages and in different countries the experiences of the children of God have differed, this has been the one universal, experience, the one common characteristic without a single exception, — hoary-headed elders, and brave martyrs, and wise teachers, and weak women, and servants, and even little children, "the great multitude which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues," — all have been people of prayer. Prayer is the very spot of His chil- dren ; and the more we know of the power of Personal Religion, the more distinctly will the spot come out, as it were, upon the surface of the skin. Is the spot upon us ? Do we enter often into the closet of the dwelling, ofkener still into the closet of the heart, to commune with our Father which 'seeth in secret? Unless this be our case, all our interest in religion is superficial, not personal, and will appear to be so, to our confusion, in the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ according to the Gospel, PART TT. TIIE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE. CIIAPTKR T. THE MAGNIFICENCE OF FKAYKU, AND TIIK VllkO TICAL DEDUCTIONS FEOM THAT DOCTRINE. " JJe that Cometh to (7orf."— Heb. xl 6. The Chrislian life, as we saw in our last Chapter, branches out like the life of the Seraphim, into the two divisions of Devotion and Action. We shall speak first of Devotion, endeavouring to furnish some thoughts \\ hich may be practically useful to the reader in his efforts to maintain communion with God ; and then of Active Life, — the spirit in which its duties should be^ fulfilled and its difficulties surmounted. And as ejacu- latory prayer is, in fact, the intermingling of devotion with action, — as it is the meeting-point of prayer and service, — we shall give it a middle place between tho two, and use it as a bridge, whereby to pass from the first to the second division of our subject. First, then, to speak of Devotion, which for our present purpose may be all summed up in one word. Prayer. There would be less of formality in prayer, and for more of strength and enjoyment in it, if men did but grasp tho idea of what prayer is. But simple as the idea is, it requires an effort of the mind to master it j and while we are willing enough to pay mechanically our daily tribute of homage at the Throne of Grace, 52 Of the' Magnificence of Prayer, and the [paiit natural slothfulness alwaj? s recalcitrates against an effort of mind. Gradual ascent is as necessary to the mind, in order to its reaching a great idea, as it is to the body in order to its reaching a great height. We cannot as' cend to the pinnacle of a cathedral, which towers aloft in air, without either steps or an inclined plane. Wo cannot reach the summit of a mountain without first toiling up its base, then traversing its breast, and then, successively, crossing the limits where verdure passea into crag, and crag into a wilderness of snow. Even when we have gained the highest point, w*e are still, it is true, at an infinite distance from the blue vault of the firmament which stretches above our heads. Still we have a better and more exalted view of wliat that fir- mament is : we have at least risen above the fogs and mists which obscure its glory ; and the air which en- compasses us is transparent to the eye, and invigorating to the frame. Now the law of man's bodily progress is also the law of his mental progress. Both must be gradual. No grand idea can be realized except by successive steps and stages, which the mind must use as landing-places in its ascent. But what if the mind, after all its toil, should prove unable fully to master the idea, as must be the case where the idea to be mastered is connected with God and things divine ? It does not at all follow that therefore our labour has been lost. We have, at all events, risen to a higher level, where our view is more transparent, more elevating, more sublime, and where the play of the thoughts is invigorating to the inner man. And now let us apply these reflections to the subject in hand. Prayer is nothing more or less than a " coming to God." Now the bare conception of this thing, " coming to God," is sui)lime and ennobling to the highest de 1 1 . 1 Practical Deductions from thai Doctri.. . . ; ^, i\ But we arc fiunlliar with the idea, and our very ikmiliarity with it — the currency of it among religious persons and in religious books — has worn off the sharp edges of it, until it has ceased to liave any definite im- press. Let us seek and pray that the idea may revive with some power in our minds. And this we will dft by a series of hypotheses, which shall be as landing- places for the mind in its ascent. 1. Let us suppose as the first step that we enjoyed the privilege of opening our minds to, and consulting in our every difficulty and trial, the very wisest, and best, and most powerful man upon earth. Suppose that such a j^crson resided in our immediate neighbour- hood, so as to bo at all times easily accessible to us. Suppose that his doors stood open day and night, and that he had left instructions with his servant never to deny him to us. Suppose that, from his repeated invitations, coupled with the well-known sincerity of his character, we were perfectly assured that he would give his whole mind to any case which we might lay before him, and consult for us to the best of his ability, and with the keenest interest in our welfare. Can there be any doubt that the doors of this wisest, and best, and most powerful of all men would be besieged with applications for admission to his presence, and that even where persons in distress were not imme- diately extricated by his advice, it would be a great lief to their minds to hear him say, "This is an intricate case, and will require a great deal of manage- ment ; but be assured I will bear it in mind, and take such measures in it as are most for your welfare ? " 2. But the judgment of even the wisest and best men, while in the body, is liable to be disturbed by many influences, which death will set aside. Mixed 5-4 Of the Magnificence of Prayer, and the [pakt up inevitably with earthly interests, and looking at things more or less through the medium of public opinion, they are not no\y as impartial judges of truth and right as they will be, when separated altogether from the world. Let us imagine then this great separation to have taken place, — the just man to have been " made perfect," and to be now lying in Abraham's bosom, his mind stocked not only with the experiences of life, but with the thousand additional lessons which death will convey. Imagine his spirit to be accessible after death (as some foolishly and wickedly pretend that disembodied spirits are accessible) to those in whom he felt, while living, the strongest interest. Let us suppose, to make the image more definite still, that he is a father, who has always had, during life, a word of counsel and sympathy, and a hand of succour for his children ; and that it has so come to pass that death has not cut them off from this resort. Doubt- less, they would avail themselves of the privilege with great eagerness; the difference between the consulta- tions with the living and the departed parent being chiefly this, that a certain awe would rest upon their minds in the latter case, from the reflection that they had to do with the inhabitant of another world, and that the advice given would be doubly valued, coming (as, on the hypothesis, it does) from a sphere where all errors of judgment are thought to be corrected. 3. And now for another step in our ascent. The Scriptures speak largely of angels, a class of beings whose faculties transcend ours in our present state; and certain words of our Blessed Lord are upon record, which, though they cannot be said to prove, yet certainly, favour the popular idea of the Jews, that to each person is assigned a guardian-angel. Assuming, II.] Practical Deductions from that Doctrine, 55 th< n, for the sake of argument, that such guardian- Liols exist, lot us suppose that each of them feels a cpccial loving interest in the particular soul under his guardianship, trembles for it as in the mad phrenzy of transgression it hangs upon the brink of eternal ruin, and rejoices for it, and with it, as it is plucked away iVom that brink by the arm of the good Shepherd, and brought back to the fold from which it had strayed. Suppose, again, in this case that wo had each of us some power of access to this guardian-angcl, that wo c ilir source and secret of the strength in which the Christian must cope with the duties and difficulties of life. And one most obvious danger besetting the constantly repeated prayers of persons in active life, is formality. Such persons, while too conscientious to abandon the habit of stated prayer, soon find that there is every lemptiition to satisfy the conscience with the attentive repetition of a form, which Uikcs no hold of the mind,' ud exerts no moral or spiritual influence on the lemper. Every real Christian is well aware that thus to reduce prayer to a form, is to drain away from the < \ercise all its virtue, until it becomes a broken vessel, lapty of power and comfort. But how to prevent, \cn with the best disposed, its lapsing into a form ? Ihe thing is by no means easy, or to be accomplished without eflbrt. This is just one of those struggles which beset real Personal Religion, and which baftlc and often make sad the Christian who cannot acquiesce in mere respectability, and feels that God has called him to saintliness. The design of this treatise being to afford help and counsel to such persons, and to lead liiem gradually onward, let me recommend that special attention be paid to the beginning and end of stated ]>raycrs. " Before thou prayest^" says the wise man, • prepare thyself." Let the mind, as much as may be, l>v' solemnized, calmed, toned down, by taking in the iiought of the presence of God, and the sublime idea of coming to Ilim. It has been our purpose in this Chapter to indicate the path along which the mind may travel with interest and profit on such an occasion. Endeavour to recall these thoughts, or such as these, with a secret aspiration that by grace you may be enabled to realize them. Lift up the mind gradually, 60 Of the Magnificence of Prayer^ dc. [paki and by stages, to some apprehension, however dim and unworthy, of the majesty, the might, the wisdom, the holiness, the love of God; and when, to use the Psalmist's expression, " the fire kindles, then speak with your tongue." The ready excuse for not com- plying with this advice, which springs to every lip, is " Time ; the sort of prayer you describe asks time ; and my occupations drive me into a corner for time." To which the answer is two-fold ; first, that time might probably be gained by a very little of that self-disci- pline, which surely no man should grudge -to bestow on the work of his salvation. Let conscience answer whether, despite all this pressure of occupation, time is not continually made for engagements of an agreeable nature? and if made for them, why not for more serious engagements ? Secondly ; that as in other things, so in prayer, — a little done well is vastly better than more done superficially. Let it be remembered too, that both the precept and the model which Our Lord has given us, rather discountenance long prayers. We are expressly counselled by Him against using vain repetitions, and thinking that we shall be heard for our much speaking, while the compression of thought and brevity of the Lord's Prayer is such, as to make it desirable that the petitioner should pause a little upon each clause, and slightly expand for himself the mean- ing, as he goes along. The end of stated Prayers should also be made the subject of some attention and care. It is surprising how little this principle has been recognized in books of devotion. In manuals of preparation for the Holy Communion, for example, how little emphasis is laid, as a general rule, on the regulation of the heart and conduct, suhsequently to the Ordinance ! The natural II. J Of Hit Twofold Aspect of Prayer, dc. CI recoil fVom tho strain which real prayer always puts upon the mind is levity. Against this levity the devout man sliould watcli and strive. When wo have with- drawn into ourselves for awhile for Communion with (lod^ the glare of the world should bo let in gradually rii the mind again, as an oculist opens the shutters by degrees upon his restored patient. The impression of having had an interview with the King of kings amid the ministries of Cherubim and Seraphim should not bo rudely tossed off, but gently and thoughtfully cher- ished. And it shall be as a nosegay of fresh flowers, which a man gathers before ho leaves some fair and (piiet garden, a refreshment amidst the dust and tur- moil of earthly pursuits. Make experiment of this advice, remembering that in spiritual, as in intellectual discipline, early efforts are fur the most part clumsy failures, and that repeated trials are the uniform condition of success ; and you shall find, under the blessing of God, that your prayers will grow in life and interest, and will give that bright and happy tone to the mind, without which no one ever iicountered successfully the duties and temptations of active life. CHAPTER II. OF THE TWOFOLD ASPECT OP PEATEB, AND THE NE- CESSITY OP PRACTISmO IT IN BOTH ASPECTS. " IM my prayer be get forth before thee irit of the fourth Commandment. God says wo must keep a certain portion of our time clear from scculai occupations. Tliat time is to Lc devoted to the ob- sor\'ance of llis ordinances, and to attendance upon His Worship. It is true wo reap priceless blessings from 'llis observance and attendance. But the blessings are not the sole point to be considered. All our time from tlie cradle to the grave is due to God. Every day is the - ifb of His mercy through Jesus Christ Therefore one ':;iy in each week, — and, on precisely the same principle, L certain portion of our leisure each day, — must bo need around fVom the intrusion of secular cares and .-ocular business, and reserved for devotion, in acknow- ledgment that we hold all from Him. Upon this principle the stated private prayers of morning and evening should be oflered punctually, as well as under the other view already dwelt upon, that we need something of God, and must go and ask it. Think of yourself before you kneel down, not simply as a suppliant for help, but as ;i priest addressing himself to offer sacrifice and to burn incense. The time of the morning or evening oblation is come; the Altar is ready; the incense is at hand ; tlie sacerdotal robe of Christ's Righteousness waits to be put on ; array thyself in it, and go into the sanc- tuary of thy heart, and do the priestly ministration. Now let us consider of what practical service these reflections may be to us, in resisting those temptations, and overcoming those difliculties which beset all earnest Prayer. Prayer, like faith (of which it is the voice and "xpression), is a thing perfectly simple in idea, but xceedjngly difficult of execution. If you can pray ight, you have mastered the great secret of the spiritual life ; but easy as it is to understand theo- 60 Of the Twofold Aspect of Prayer^ and the [paet retically what right prayer is, it is fiir from easy to practise it. The difficulties, if traced to their origin, arise, no doubt, very much from the fact that our adversary the Devil is fully aware of the power of real prayer, and therefore sets in operation all his devices to harass, distract, and disquiet every earnest petitioner. So long as a man's prayers are dead and lifeless exer- cises, and act as an opiate to the conscience, without exercising any sanctifying influence on the character, of course it meets with no opposition from this quarter ; but let it once pass out of the domain of form into that of real communion with God, and it is sure of dis- turbance in one shape or another, — sure of falling far below the mark wiiich the petitioner sets before him. Consider what perfect trifles to the Christian even the worst trials of life would become, and with what ease the most formidable temptations would be mastered, if Prayer always opened to him the gate of Heaven, as perhaps it has seemed to do on some favoured days ; as it might do always, if there were not certain disturbing influences, constantly drawing it down, as with the force of gravitation, to a lower level. One of the earliest of these disturbing influences, of which the awakened soul becomes conscious, is the temptation to leave off*, w^hen the exercise promises to be dry and barren, and when the mind is much harassed by dis- tractions. When we fail to derive from Prayer comfort and satisfaction, we become cowards, and run away from the faldstool. We give up the attempt, because it meets with discouragement at the outset. Now this, like most other defects of practice, is traceable ulti- mately to an error of principle. We have forgotten that Prayer (I am now speaking of stated Prayer) is an act of homage to Almighty God ; wo regard it li. I yccessil}/ of practising ii in both Aspects, 67 simply In its bearing on the spiritual wclfuro of man,— on his inward peace, light, strcngtii, and comfort. Wo become utilitarians as to Prayer, and secretly think that where no sensible benefit is derived from it, it need not bo pursued any further. And if Prayer were only valuable for its effect upon the mind of man, — if it had no higher significi\nce than this, — the reasoning would bo just. But if Prayer bo truly a sacrificial act, an act of ministry on the part of the Christian, a homage rendered to the Majesty of Heaven, then to abandon it in disgust, because it cannot bo performed with entire comfort and satisfaction to our own minds, instead of being regarded as a recognition of the spir- ituality of prayer (which is the light we are apt to view it in), ought to be regarded as a dereliction of duty. It is a peevish indulgence of self, by which God is robbed of His incense. — Nay, — let the rulo invaria- bly be this : where you cannot pray as you would, pray as you can. It was the quaint but excellent saying of an old saint, that a man should deal with distractions in Prayer as he would deal with dogs, who run out and bark at him when he goes along the street, — walk on fast and straightforward, and take no notice of them. Persevere in presenting yourself to God durnig the period for which the Prayer ought to last, and would last under happier circumstances. He loves to draw out perseverance in prayer, loves the indication thus given that, amidst all discouragements, the soul clings obstinately to Himself; and very early in the world's history He signified His approval of this temper of mind by rewarding and crowning, as He did, Jacob's struggle with the Jehovah- Angel. Something obscure and mysterious will always hang over that passage of Old Testament history. But we cannot (?rr in regard* 08 Of the Twofold Aspect of Prayer^ and the [part ing the Patriarch's v>"orcIs, " I ^vill not let thee go, ex- cept thou bless me," as designed to teach us a lesson of perseverance and resolute determination in our inter- course with God, amidst all the difficulties by which earnest Prayer is beset. It must be remembered that this quiet resolute pa- tience, even amidst the disorders and distractions of our own spirit, is probably the most acceptable offer- ing which can be made to the Most High. It is an easy thing to pray, when our prayer s(3ars to Heaven on the wings of a warm emotion, and when the Holy Spirit, like a favouring gale, seems to swell the sails which the mind spreads to catch His blessed influence. Pray- er is then a matter of feeling rather than of principle. But when we have to woo the gale, and yet the gale comes not, when the vessel has constantly to be set on different tecks, and yet seems to make little or no way towards the shore, it is then that our fidelity in paying our homage to God is tested and approved. And let us be sure that it will not be long tested and approved, before it is rewarded. We shall not long wait on the Lord, without renewing our strength. We shall not long persevere in asking, amid repulses, before He will turn and open to us the treasury of His bounty, and say to us, as to the Syrophoenician of old, " Great is thy faith ; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Yet if the blessing come not in the shape of sensible comfort, resign thy will to God's Will, and that resignation it- self shall be an acceptable sacrifice. Thou worshippest Him not for the mere comfort of worshipping Him, but because He is infinitely worthy of homage from every knee and lip. " How many courtiers be there," says an excellent writer on devotion, " that go an hundred times a year into the prince's chamber, without hope of i:.j Necessity of practising it in both Aspects, 69 onoe speaking with him, but only to bo seen of him. So must we, my dear Philothea, come to the exercise of Prayer purely and merely to do our duty, and to testify our fidelity. If it please His Divine Majesty to speak, and discourse with us by His holy inspirations and interior consolations, it will be doubtless an inesti- mable honor to us, and a pleasure above all pleasures ; but if it please Him not to do us this favour, leaving us without so much as speaking to us, as if lie saw us not, 'f as if we were not in His Presence, we must not for ill that go our way, but continue with decent and de- vout behaviour in the Presence of His Sovereign Good- ness ; and then infallibly our patience will be acceptable to Him, and He will tike notice of our diligence and perseverance ; so that another time, when we shall come before him, He will favour us, and pass His time with us in heavenly consolations, and make us see the beau- ty of holy Prayer *." We have been exhibiting Prayer under its aspect of homage, — the aspect in which it has reference to God's glory rather than man's wants. We are confi- dent that by many excellent and devout people this aspect of it is altogether dropped out of sight. And we are sure also that this defective view leads frequent- ly to a degenerate style of prayer. Robbed of its char- acter of homage, prayer soon becomes an entirely selfish thing ; and the petitioner, when engaged in it, soon comes to regard every thing as beside the mark, which has no reference to his own immediate necessities. It is very desirable to redeem prayer from this exclusively selfish character ; to give it a wider scope and a grander bearing ; and the keeping in mind what has been said of it as an act * S. Franjois de Sales, Introduction k la Vie devote. 70 Of the Twofold Aspect of Prayer^ and the [pakt of homage and priestly service will perhaps help us in achieving this desirable end. But definite practical rules may be given, which will not be long acted upon, with- out giving a better tone to our devotions. There are parts of Prayer which cannot be selfish, which directly seek either the interests of others, or the glory of God , — see that these parts be not absent from your prayers. First ; intercede for others, and acquire the habit of interceding. Consider their wants, trials, and diffi- culties, and bear them upon your Tieart, as you bear your own, before the Throne of Grace. Intercession is a priestly service. Christ, the great High Priest, inter- cedes for us all above. And we, if we would prove ourselves members of God's Royal Priesthood upon earth, and perform with fidelity those spiritual sacrifices which we were consecrated in Baptism to present, must intercede for others. It is truly lamentable to think how defective in this point of view are the devotions of the best Christians, — how thoroughly well content they are that the half-hour daily spent in intercourse with God, should be devoted entirely to their "own strug- gles, their own trials, their own wants. So little pro- ficient are they in Charity, and so little — so very little — can they realize the constant " our " and " us " of the Lord's Prayer, — whereby Christ teaches us, in a way more emphatic than many sermons, that we should pray as members of a family, — with the wants, sins, tempta- tions, burdens of the whole family continually upon our hearts. Until we can in some measure do this, we do not pray after the Lord's model.- Secondly ; let Praise — I say not merely thanksgiving, but Praise — always form an ingredient of thy prayers. We thank God for what He is to us ; for the benefits prhich He confers, and the blessings with which He II.] Necessiti/ of practmng it in both Aspects, 71 IJut wo praiso Him for what He is in Him- soil', — fur His glorious excellences and perfections, in- dependently of their bearing on the welfare of the creature. In Praise the thought of self vanishes from, and is extinguished in, the mind ; and therefore to be large and fervent in Praise counteracts the natural ttndchcy to selfishness which is found in mere Prayer. Think not, O man, whosoever thou art, that God will dispense with this tribute of Praiso from thee! Remember tliat, merely as a man, thou art the High Priest of all creation, a little miniature of the Universe ill thyself, representing the Angels in virtue of thy immortal spirit, the lower creatures in virtue of thy sensations and appetites, and matter in virtue of thy body. Thus, when thou singcst praise, all Creation (in a manner) sings in thee and with thee. And it shall often happen that when thy heart is numb and torpid, and yields not to the action of Prayer, it shall begin to thaw, and at last burst, like streams under the breath of spring, from its icy prison, with the warm and genial exercise of Praise. The deadness, the distractions thou deplorcst, shall flee away as the harp is taken down from the willow, and strung to celebrate the Divine perfections. For how much is there to kindle the heart in the very thought of Praise! Praise is the religious exercisee — the on religious exercise — of Heaven. Angels are offering it ceaselessly, resting not night or day. Saints are oflfcr* Ing it ceaselessly in Paradise. Nature in her every district is offering it ceaselessly. From the Heavens, which declare the glory of God, and the firmament, which showeth His handiwork, down to the dewdrop which sparkles with the colours of the rainbow, and the lark, who tunes her cheerful carol as she salutes 72 The Secret of Success in Prayer. [paet the rising sun, the whole Creation sends up one grand chorus of Praise to the Throne of God. Thou shalt feel that thou art not alone in offering it, that every act of true praise is social, and, as it were, choral, though offered in solitude. " All saints far on earth, and in Paradise, feel without knowing it the impulsa of each other's adoration, and join in with it, liks strings that vibrate to the same tone, without touching each other'." And the sense of sympathy in the exer- cise shall kindle life in thee, and the soul shall recover its benumbed energies, and Prayer shall h& no more a painful wrestling with thy own mind, but a solace, and a strength, and a light, and a healing. CHAPTER III. THE SECRET OF SUCCESS IN PEAYEE. " And in the morning as they passed by, they saw the Jig-tree dried up from the roots. And Peter callitig to remembrance saith unto him, Master, behold, the fig-tree which thou cursedst is withered away. And Jesus answering saith unto them, Have faith in God. For verily I say unto you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea : and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that those things which he saith shall come to pass ; he shall have whatsoever he saith."— M.ARK xi. 20—23. It is very observable that the remarks which Oui Blessed Lord makes on the incidents presented to Him, and His comments on the sayings which were dropped ^ Rev. Charles Marriott, Thoughts on Private Devotion. ] Thr Secret of Sitci- , ycr, 7o ■' li... ^..\. .:.^., .i..' 1. '. uL all moct our natural antici- . lions of what tho occasion required. Merely human comments on what is said or done in society are almost always obvious; and they are so because they are shallow, caught up rapidly from tho surface of tho subject, and flung abroad at random upouf tho appre- hension of tho hearers. But infinite wisdom — ^and our Lord is tho Infinite Wisdom personified — explores the depths of every subject wliich is brought before it, and dives into tho heart of every speaker, and answers not according to the superficial bearing of the subject, not according to tho literal expression of tho lips, .but according to the hidden harmony, which it requires thought and prayer to bring to light, and aQCording to the intent of the heart. As an illustration of this, take the words which and at the head of this Chapter, with the circum- stances which gave rise to them. Our Lord on finding a fig-tree barren, which had made a great show of leaves, had pronounced on it a solemn curse. In con- sequence of the curse the fig-tree had withered. The disciples seeing it dried up from the roots, call the attention of their Master to the fact And Ho replies, " Have faith in God," — and so forth. Now, the question is, What remark would a mere wise man, — one wiser than his fellows, if you will, but still a mere man, — have made under such circum- stances % Supposing we ourselves were great teachers of moral truth ; — what comment would have risen to our lips on having our attention called to the sere and blighted tree 1 Possibly we might have drawn from the circumstances its obvious moral — thus : " That fig- tree is the Jewish nation. Its show of leaves is the profession which they make of godliness — * Wc arc 4 74 The Secret of Success in Prayer. [paki instructors of the foolish ; lights of them that sit in darkness ; guides of the blind ; teachers of the babes/ &c. Its want of fruit is their spiritual barrenness, — their want of practice, while they have so much pro fession. Its present withered state foreshows their future dooTn, — which is to stand a blighted monument of wrath on God's highway." But whatever our com- ment on the occasion might have been, this, I think, \z certain, that it would not have been, '' Have faith in God." That is not obvious enough! We know that it must be exactly to the point, the precise word for the occasion, — because the Infinite Wisdom said it, — but it requires a great deal of consideration to see Iwio it is to the point. Faith, and prayer, and forgiveness, are, no doubt, matters of vast importance ; but what have they to do, how are they connected with, the cursing and withering of a fig-tree 1 On the surface we can trace no connexion whatever. And we conclude that we must dive beneath the surface by meditation, and prayer for the Light of God's Spirit, if we would catch the silver tlu'cad, on which are strung these beautiful diamonds of holy instruction. The outline of the connexion is probably this : — St. Peter's expression was, " Master, behold the fig- tree which thou cursedst is withered away."— That was his language. What was the thought of his heart which spoke itself out in that language % Probably of this kind. " What words of power are thine, O Master Thou spakest yesterday a few simple words, ' No fruit grow on thee hereafter for ever.' Thou spakest them quietly, as thou ever speakest. No immediate sign followed. The earth did not tremble at thine utter- ance. The vault of heaven did not echo it back in thunder. All things seemed unchanged around us. 11.] The Secret of Success in Prayer, 75 llio insect hummed upon his way in the morning sun, and the waggoner trolled his song, as ho drove past us with his marlvot stores — and wc dropped the word out of our memory. But it has not fallen to the earth. Fallon to the earth ! no, it was a power-word. No sooner said tluui done. The word sped to its accom- plishment, as an arrow speeds to the mark. The imprecation yesterday; — to-day, in visible and due d»>velopmcnt, the blight ! — * Behold ! the fig-treo that thou cursedst is withered away.* " " And Jesus an- swering, said unto them" — possibly, as if to answer his thoughts, lie fixed His wonderful eye upon the speaker, in the assurance that Ho explored his inmost soul—" Have faith in God." As if He had said, " My words are power-words indeed. They take effect — immediate effect. They are not spoken in the air; they achieve something. Little children, ye shall be OS your Master. I will teach you to speak power-w^ords like mine. Your prayers for good shall speed to their accomplishment, as surely apd as fast as my prayer for evil upon the fig-tree. Ask, and ye shall have. Ask- ing and having shall be linked together as closely as the cursing and the withering of the fig-tree, — if only ye will ask in faith, — if only, on the ground of God*s promise made to prayer, you will believe, while ye ask, that you receive the object of your petitions. This and another condition — that you forgive injuries, — that you pray in love as well as in faith, — this shall ensure the success of your Prayers. You, like your Heavenly Father, shall speak, and it shall be done — ^you, like Him, shall command, .and it shall stand fast." Such is the connexion of thought between our Lord's words, and the occasion which gave rise to them. J/Ct us now learn from them the secret of successful prayer. 76 The Secret of Success in Prayer. [part Prayer is, without doubt, the great means of advance in Personal Religion and the spiritual life. But it is surprising, and most disheartening, how very little pro- portion the progress of religious persons bears to their prayers. Were the prayers formal, — that is, were they said without seriousness and attention, and without any corresponding effort to amend the life, of course the account of this barrenness would be obvious. But this is by no means the case. The petitioner, in the case which we are supposing, seriously an^ earnestly desires spiritual blessings. He gives serious and close atten- tion to the words which he employs in prayer. He strives to realize, when he employs them, the awful Presence of God. Yet somehow or other the prayer is not so successful as it should be. It may calm his mind, quiet his spirit, spread a general sensation of happiness over his soul ; these are what I may call the natural influences of Prayer ; but it does not seem that he is substantially the better for it. There is a great mass of Prayer, and very Ijttle sensible improvement, — very little growth in grace. Years roll on ; and his character is s'till very stagnant in any spiritual view of it ; excellent, upright, and devout as far as man can mark, he has not made much progress in Divine things. The many, many words of Prayer seem spoken in the air ; they are sent forth into the vast world of spirits, like Noah's raven from the ark, never to return again. Is this true as a general description, if not to the full extent, of any one who reads these lines ? Then let me invite such a person to consider the secret of successful Prayer, as explained by our Lord Himself. May it not be that your words are not words of power, because they are not words of Faith ? You pray rather as a duty, than in the definite expectation of any thing N. I The Secret of Success in Prayer. 77 to be gained by it. You pray attentively, seriously, devoutly ; and you go your way with a feeling of satis- faction th:it you have done well upon the whole, and ♦.here the matter ends. In the ancient augury by birds, as soon as the augur had made the preliminary arrange- ments, — covered his head, marked out the heavens with his staff, and uttered his prayer, — ho stayed on the spot, watching for the first appearance of the birds, — ho was on the look out for the result. But this is just what many Christians fail to do in regard of their prayers ; *hcy have no expectation of being benefited by them; \iey do not look for the blessing to which, in virtue « f God's promise in Christ Jesus, the prayer entitles them. If, some day, after praying for the Light of o often the secret process of our "hearts, when wo kneel down to pray. Now I am not going to plead for a fanatical view of answers to Prayer. 1 have no great fiiith in sudden revolutions of feeling, or instantaneous conversions. I know full well that growth in Grace, as in Nature, may be so rapid as to be unhealthily rapid, as to indicate shallowness and want of depth. But imo thing I do believe, — to disbelieve which were the ost unreasonable of all follies, — to believe which is iiio dictate of the calmest, soberest, purest, highest reason. One thing I do believe, — more surely than the evidence of the senses, for they may bo imposed upon; — more surely than those self-evident axioms, upon which mathematical truth is built, lor tliose axioms are only spun out of the hun^an mind, and not external to it. I do believe that God is true. I do believe that whenever God makes a promise. He will assuredly fulfd it. I do believe that if you or I come under the terms of the promise. He will fulfil it to us. I see that lie has promised the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him ; and it were blasphemous not to believe that the Holy Spirit is able to surmount any and every difficulty. Therefore if I have ever secretly reasoned as above, if such has ever been the secret process of my heart, I stand convicted of unbelief. It is no marvel that God has withheld the blessing, if I so dishonoured Him in my heart as never seriously to believe that He could or would bestow it. And, in future, if I would meet with success, I must come to the Throne of Grace with an undoubting mind. Having launched my petition into 80 The Secret of Success in Prayer. [pari the world of spirits, I must stand (like good Habak kuk) upon the watch, and set me upon the tower, and must watch to see what He will say to me. Having prayed "Show me a token for good," I must wait,iike the augurs, looking up to Heaven until the token comes. I must in the depth of my inmost heart expect to re- ceive what I ask for.* And then if, besides this, my prayer be a prayer of Love, — if, while I breathe it, my heart goes forth on an errand of forgiveness towards the man who has thwarted or strivdi to injure me, — then the answer cannot long tarry. The prayer-word must in that case be a power-word. The effect must be in that case as surely linked to the petition as the blighting of the fig-tree was linked to the Saviour's malediction. " Through it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely come, it will not tarry." Before concluding this Chapter, we will give one simple piece of advice, by way of rendering more prac- tical what has been said. Strive to acquire the habit of asking definitely for particular graces of which you stand in need, and of expecting a definite result. For example ; what point of character was it in which you found yourself most deficient in the examination which preceded your last Communion 1 Until the next Communion comes round, let that particular grace, whether it was purity, or hu- mility, or patience, or zeal, or love, be made the sub- ject of a distinct petition in your prayers. Do not for- get the petition ; always have it in your mind's eye ; try to expect the result, — to assure yourself, on grounds * " My voice shalt Thou hear betimes, Lord ; early in the mormng will I direct my prayer unto Thee and will look np^'' i.Oi iiitii He took of tho pure Virgin was subject to all the physical, but none of tho moral, infirmities of our nature. His heart always beat true to God's glory and man's salvation ; — a magnetic needle ever pointing to that great pole, not shaken even for a moment from its stedfastness by tho vacillation of lower and less perfect motives. And His singleness of aim, His piety and benevolence of conduct is ours, — God be praised, — not only to copy, but also to appropriate. Take it, Chris- tian ; it is thine. Delight in it, as God delights in it, and thou shalt be agreed with God, and shalt stand before Him at the last day in the white robe, pure as driven snow ; not having thine own rightcousness^ which is of the law, but that which is by the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith. CHAPTER V. OF INTEECESSOEY PEAYEE. " They made Ihe hreattpUxU: .... and they get in it four roum ofetone* .*.... And the stone* were according to the namt$ of the children of leraely twelve^ according to their namegy like the engravings of a signet^ everg one with hiM name according to the twdve tribes J*^ — ^Exod. xxxix. 9, 10, 14. The Spouse in the Canticles, who represents the Church, cries to the heavenly Bridegroom, " Set me as a seal upon thine heart." Christ answers this prayer by interceding for each of His people in Heaven, by bearing upon His heart the wants, trials, troubles, sins of each, and by pleading for each the merits of his 96 Of Intercessory Prayer. [part most precious Death and Passion. In the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, which contains the great high-priestly prayer of Our Lord, we find Him com- mencing this office of Intercession. " I pray for them," says He of His disciples. The Intercession then com- menced ; but it has been continuing ever since ; it is prolonged through all time ; it embraces not the Apostles only, but every soul of the redeemed. Of this Intercession the breastplate of the Jewish high priest supplies a beautiful figure. In the* breastplate there were twelve precious stones, arranged in four rows of three, upon each of which was written the name of one of the twelve tribes. The breastplate, of course, when worn, would rest upon the priest's heart, — would rise and sink with every palpitation of the breast. When he appeared before God in his full sacerdotal attire, there would be the twelve names upon his heart, indicative of his love and care for the whole people of Israel. Names I the names of those with whom we are well acquainted, how much they imply! how true to nature is that Scripture idiom, or phraseology, which makes the name stand for the whole character ! Let but the name of a person familiar to us be mentioned in our hearing, and what an instantaneous rush takes place into the mind of the personality of the man, — of his temperament, manners, features, way of thinking and acting, in short of all his physical and mental peculiarities 1 The names upon the high priest's breast- plate betoken the individuality of Christ's Intercession for his people. Not a sparrow is forgotten before God. And not a single want or woe of a single soul is forgotten by the God-man, when He intercedes. It was observed, in a recent Chapter, that every Christian is in a certain important sense a priest, con- Of Tntercestsory PraykfiJ Tt'f T T* * . 0^^^ s» crated in Baptisii c'onfirmatnm* t() olTrr \\\\ I >irituul sacrifices to CJod. Accordingly c^ i.nist intercede, because Intercession is t.m- i.i ikt> ju'icstly functions. The Intercession of the great High Priest fur the whole Cimrch is ever rising, like a cloud of fragrant incense, to the Throne of Grace. And it should be our ambition to throw, each one for himself, our little grain of incense into II is censer. The prayer, which is oflered by tlie Head in Heaven for the whole Body, should bo re-ochood by the members hero on earth. The consideration of Intercessory Prayer properly follows that of Self-examination. They are at the opposite poles of the Christian's devotional exercises. Self-examination is the most interior, as Intercession is the most exterior, of those exercises. The one is a retiring into oneself and shutting out the whole world ; the other is a going forth in sympathy and love towards other men, — an association of oneself with their wants, wishes, and trials. Hence these exercises are very necessary to keep one another in check. The healthy action of the mind requires that both shall continually be practised. By undue and overstrained self-inspection tlie mind is apt to become moi'bid and depressed, and I breed scruples, which tease and harass without producing any real fruit. The man becomes a vale- tudinarian in religion, full of himself, his symptoms,- his ailments, the delicacy of his moral health ; and valetudinarians are always a plague, not only to them- selves, but to every body connected with them. One tonic adapted to remedy this desponding, timid, nervous state of mind, is an active sympathy, such as comes out in Intercessory Prayer, with the wants and trials of oihers, a sympathy based upon that precept of the holy 98 Of Intercessory Prayer. [paet Apostle's, " Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." Observe, first, the great importance attached to this duty in Holy Scripture, and in that which is a faithful uninspired echo of Holy Scripture, the Prayer Book In the Old Testament you find Abraham winning b^f Intercession the preservation of the cities of the plain on condition — a condition,. alas ! not fulfilled — that ten righteous were found therein. In the New Testament you find the early Church winning by Intercessory Prayer the preservation of the life of St. Peter from the sword of Herod, on which life was suspended, humanly speaking, the existence of the infant community. But let us come at once to the Lord's Prayer, as containing by implication the most striking of all precepts on the subject. If the Lord's Prayer is to be the great model of Prayer, as it surely is, how much Intercession ought not our Prayers to contain ! This extraordinary Prayer is so constructed, that it is impossible to use it, without praying for all other Christians as well as ourselves. Intercession, instead of being a clause added on to it, is woven into its very texture. Break off the minutest fragment you please, and you will find inter- cession in it. Oil and water will not coalesce ; pour them together, and the one will remain on the surface of the other. But wine and water interpenetrate one another ; in every drop of the mixed liquid there are both elements. When we pray for others, we usually add some paragraphs at the close of our ordinary prayers, distinct from them, as oil, though placed upon water, remains distinct. But in the Lord's own model Prayer, the Intercession and the petitions for self inter penetrate one another ; the petitioner, who uses it ver- hatim et literatim^ never employs the singular number. II. J Of Intercessory Prayer, 99 A wonderful contrivance indeed, by which the Author secures a more important end than we perhaps are apt to think of. The prayer, it must be remembered, was given as a kind of watchword for Christians, by the adoption and use of which they should be distinguished from the disciples of other Rabbis, such as John the r>aptist, — " as a sign of profession, and mark of dif- iVrence," to accommodate the language of our Articles to the purpose, " whereby Christian men might bo discerned from others that bo not christened." Now this sign or watchword must necessarily have Love woven into its very texture ; for what was the appointed note, whereby the world was to know disciples of Jesus from those who were not His disciples ? His own words answer that question very pointedly : " By this sliall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another" Then in the very watchword of the Disciples there must be Love. And this could not be more strikingly contrived than by drawing up the watchword in such terms that no man could use it as a prayer for himself, without at the same time interceding for his brother Christians. Of the testimony of our Liturgy to the duty of In- tercessory Prayer we need only say that, after the j^enitential introduction of Morning and Evening Prayer, there are, as a general rule, only three collects which supplicate blessings for the congregation then worshipping; — all that follows except the prayer of St. Chrysostom is Intercession. The latter and longer half of the Litany is intercessory ; and the Communion Service, after the Oflfertory, passes on to the " Pray- er for the whole state of Christ's Church militant here on earth." It appears that the compilers kept care- fully in view the inspired precept given for the guidance 100 • Of Intercessory Prayer. [rAiii of public Prayers, " I exhort that first of all," (it may mean first in point of order, or first in point of impor- tance, or both, but, any how, " first of all,") " supplica- tions, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings, and for all that are in authority ; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty." Thus plain, then, is the duty of Intercessory Prayer. And the grounds of it are equally plain. The duty is based upon the fact that men are one body, and members one of another. Whether in Nature or in Grace, a man is essentially the member of a family. In his moral nature he has certain affections, such as bene- volence and compassion, which have reference to others, and show clearly that, in the design of the Creator, he is no isolated creature. And in his spiritual nature too, — in his constitution by Grace and in Christ, — there are brotherly kindness and charity, which show that in the new creature also man is one Body. And if this be so, the weal and the woe of other men, of other Christians, must be, to a certain extent, our weal and woe, cannot fail ultimately to reach us. The different parts of the living frame of man have a wonderful sym- pathy with one another : " Whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it ; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it." And so, if a blow is struck at the body politic either of the State or of the Church, in some extremity of that body which is very remote from ourselves, the blow cannot fail to vibrate through the v/hole frame, until it reaches even \is in our distant corner. Few prayers of the Liturgy are regarded with such general indifference, — few, 1 fear, would be more readily dispensed with by the worshippers, — than those for all in civil authority II.] Of Intercessory Prayer, 101 and tho clergy ; but let any reasonable person ask him self, if he desire to see the necessity of such prayers, whether he rcall}* thinks that a general abandonment of these exalted functionaries by the Providence and (trace of God would prove in the end indifferent to himself. Suppose tho whole body of our rulers in Church and State, to bo utterly godless, (and godless they must bo without the Grace of God,) could such a state of things be of little moment to me, because I l.appcn to bo at the lower extremity of the social scale? Would not the ungodliness in high places reach mc, though in a low place, through a thou- sand avenues? If in no other way, would not God send judgments upon tho nation and the Church, for tho ungodliness of their rulers? If then each of us has a real interest^ in the moral and spiritual wel- fare of tho community, it must bo expedient for our- selves that we should pray for the whole community, and especially for those who before God arc its Repre- sentatives. But, expediency altogether apart, if a man's relations to others arc, as wo have shown, bound up in his own nature, he must surely bring his rela- tions and sympathies with him, when he appears bo- fore God. Otherwise, what does he do but virtually say to God, "Thou didst create mc a member of a family, to love and to care for my brethren ; but hero I stand before Thee in all the isolation of my own selfishness ? " And yet^ though i;oth tho duty of Intercessory Prayer and the grounds of it aro thus clear, there is perhaps no part of devotion which good Christians more systematically neglect. ^May it not be said that com- monly oven devout persons feel very littlo interest in any Intercessions, except such as touch their own im- 102 Of Intercessory Prayer. [pari mediate circle of family and friends 1 While perhaps there are some, who of set purpose hug a sort of spiritual selfishness, and would not hesitate to avow that for them the personal question of their own sal- vation is indeed the whole of religion. Now can we analyse this feeling of disinclination to a religious exercise, at once so reasonable and so scrip- tural ? It seems to be a mixed feeling, having in it a good and a bad element. Some, no doubt, shrink from Intercessory Prayer, under a feeling that, as coming from them, it would be presumptuous. " What am I, that I should plead the cause of others, — I, who have so much to ask for myself, and who have no native right to ask at all ? Or how can I think that prayers from me, like those from righteous Abraham, can win any thing from God for my brethren ?" The feeling is good, but mistaken in its application. In the first place, what God expressly commands us to do, it can never be a presumption to do. If by His holy Apostle He has taught us to make prayers and supplications, and to give thanks for all men, His command surely is enough to exempt such prayers from the charge of pre- sumptuousness. Had He not commanded them, such a scruple might reasonably find place. Prayers for the dead are not commanded, — nay, they are implicitly dis- couraged by the suggestions made in Holy Scripture that the state of the dead admits of no change ; and therefore to offer such prayers is presumption, because they are beyond the warrant of God's express will and Word. But prayers for the living are, as we have seen, made obligatory upon the disciples of Jesus Christ, by the very form of the model Prayer which he gave us to use. Next, as regards the imagined feebleness and impo- 11. J Of Intercessory Prayer, 103 toncy of our prayers for others, — a feeling whicli looks humble and plausible enough on the surface, — we must inquire how far it may possibly resolve itself into a halfscoptical question as to the efficacy of Prayer alto- irother. And if tliero be in our minds no doubt on this licad, wo should then remember that our intercessions do not stand alone, but that in oHcring them, wo co- operate with the whole Church, and, above all, with Christ the Head of the Church. Do not omit to cal- ulato the power of combination. Many very slight muscular efforts, put forth imperceptibly, will create, it is said, force enough to turn a heavy piece of furni- ture. The smallest contributions made by ^ vast num- ber of people would soon fill a monarch's treasury. Let, then, thy feeble intercession be put forth to move tlie will of God to show mercy to others. Other inter- cessions shall meet it at the throne of grace, which shall convert it into a strong force. Yea, His shall certainly meet it, which is singly and by itself the strongest of all forces with God, — powerful at all times to bend His Will, and to impetrate from Him the highest blessings. Rhoda, the damsel who admitted St. Peter to the house f Mary the mother of Mark, was one of those who were gathered together praying for the Apostle's deliv- erance. Her prayer was one of those which won from God the preservation of this chief Apostle. But in our reluctance to Intercessory Prayer wo nmst acknowledge, if we be candid with ourselves, the presence of a bad feeling, a great want of sympathy with others, — or, in other words, a lack of love. We feel no interest in them, and therefore do not care to pray for them. Now, so far as this is the case with us, we must consider, first^ that such selfishness invalidates and empties of efficacy our prayers for ourselves. Our 104 Of Intercessory Prayer, [patit Saviour in His comments on the cursing of the fig-tree, lays down, you will find, two great conditions of success in Prayer, — the first, that we shall pray in faith ; the second, that we shall pray in love. How does he pray in love, who in his prayer looks only on his own things, and not on those of others ? Can he hope to win any thing from God, while he is in a mind so difTerent from that of God ? It is a great truth, reader, that if we de- sire to gain any thing from the Most High, our minds must be set more or less to the same key as His. If two harps be strung to the same key, but not other- wise, when one of them is struck, the other gives a responsive sound. There must be some secret affinity in nature between the lightning of heaven and the con- ductor which draws it down, — between the steel and the magnet which attracts it, — between the light sub- stances and the chafed glass or sealing-wax, towards which they leap up and cling. And in Grace there must be a secret affinity between God and the soul (this affinity itself being the effect of Grace) before the soul can lay hold of God's Will, and draw out a blessing from Him, yea, draw God Him.self into it. This affinity stands in Love. God, the great Father, loves all men. He will have all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. He sent His Son to save all. — Redemption being, as far as His will and intention are concerned, co-extensive with the hu- man race. Therefore he who prays with the largest sympathy, he who embraces in his prayer the widest circle of his fellow-creatures, is most in sympathy with the mind of God, when he prays, — has the key of God's heart, and therefore the key of God's treasury. And as for him who prays in the total absence of this sym- pathy, does it not stand to reason that God must re u.] Of Intercessory Prayer, 105 main inulc to suoli u iiiau 1 Suppose an entire absence from a petitioner's mind of the fraternal feeling towards fellow-nien and follow-Christinns ; and what does it seem to imply, but an absence of filial feeling? Is not the filial feeling the correlative of the fraternal, accord- ing to that word of the Apostle ; " Every one that loveth Him that begat, lovcth him also, that is begotten of llim 1" Thus are the two first words of the Prayer of Prayers bound together in an indissoluble wedlock ; and he who cannot in sympathy and love say " Our," cannot^ in faith and trust, say " Father." Then pray for others, if you have not yet done so, uniting with your prayers, where it is possible to do so and opportunity oflcrs, that kindly interest in their con- cerns, which attests the sincerity of your intercessions. Pray particularly for those who have done you wrong ; nothing tends more to engender that frame of mind which is essential to success. Do not be baflled by the thought that explicitncss of request is always neces- sary. The mention of the name, the thought of the I)erson before the Throne of Grace, the simple com- mendation of him by Prayer to God's mercy and bless- ing, is a great point gained, and in numerous cases is all that can be done. If we much desire explicitncss, and yet not know exactly into what form to throw the petition, the Holy Spirit, the Gift of gifts, which in- volves holiness and happiness both here and hereafter, may always be petitioned for on behalf of all. But, after all, there is much in that beautiful word of our Prayer for all Conditions of Men, " that it may please Thee to comfort and relieve them according to their several necessities,"^ God understands those necessities perfectly ; and we may safely ask Him to supply them all, according to the understanding which He has of 100 Of Devotional Reading. [paet them. ill His Infinite Mind. You may do for your friend, or your relative, the same kind office which those interested in the poor paralytic in the Gospel did for him, — bring him in the arms of Prayer, and lay him down in his helplessness before Jesus, thus silently commending him to the pity and sympathy of the In- finite Love. You may have many thus to commend, parents, brothers, sisters, colleagues, helpmates, friends^ children and godchildren, masters, servants, pastorS; parishioners, and may commend them all by the sim. pie, quiet, devout recitation of their names. -Yes, thou mystical Aaron, washed for thy sacred functions in the laver of regeneration, and clothed in the Eighteousness of Christ, forget not to wear thy breastplate, when thou goest in to offer up a spiritual sacrifice, — neglect not to exhibit silently before God, graven upon thy heart, the names of all thou lovest ; yea, be an intercessor, as far as in thee lies, for all the people ; for of what mem- ber of the human family can it be said that he has no claim whatever upon thy sympathy and kind offices 1 CHAPTER VI. OF DEVOTIONAL READING. " And Elisha died, and they hiried him. And the hands of the Moabites invaded the land at the coming in of the year. " And it came to pass, as they were burying a man, thai, behold, they spied a band of men ; and they cast the man into the sepulchre of Elisha; and when the man teas let down, and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived, and stood up on his feet:'— 2 Kings xiii. 20, 21. We Protestants do not attach virtue to relics, in the ordinary sense of that term ; but there is a sense, in ii.J Of Devotional Reading, 107 which wo may ro^isonably enough do so. Ivelics an; remains ; and while wo believe that no virtue resides in the material remains of a good man, we do not there- fore exempt from cfticacy his mental or spiritual remains. If he has leil behind him in writing the effusions of a devout mind, wo believe that these writings, by which " ho being dead yet speaketh," often exercise an influ- ence for good upon readers, long afler ho himself has passed away, and that thus the miracle wrought by the bones of Elisha is continually repeating itself in the experience of the Church. Souls are being quickened and edified by the instrumentality of books, which books arc all that remain of their authors. A holy man, who lives in habitual communion with God, has a living influence on his generation, and also, if he be a writer, an influence on posterity. Ilis living influence may be compared to the miracles wrought by the shadow of St. Peter, or by the handkerchiefs and aprons brought to the sick from the body of St. Paul. The influence exercised by his writings after death, may be fitly compared to the posthumous miracle recorded in the text, a miracle which stands alone in Holy Scrip- ture, and in which it is clearly desirable to find some moral significance. We shall speak first of the power of devotional reading, and then give some practical suggestions for the conduct of this exercise. I. (1) The power of devotional reading maybe seen from considering the effect, which constant association with the wise and good would naturally exert upon the mind. It is an axiomatic truth which has passed into an inspired proverb : " He that walkcth with wise men shall be wise." Mere common intercourse with wise men, however, — ^the merely being thrown with them in 108 Of Devotional Reading. [pakt ordinary society, — might not, for various reasons, be productive of much good. The time might pass in remarks upon those trite and superficial topics, which are the necessary introduction to something deeper and better. We might not be able to get at the wise man's mind. He might be reserved in communi- cating his sentiments, or we might be awkward, and wanting in the tact to draw them out. Comparatively few persons have the gift, for a gift it is, of lively table- talk on subjects of secular interest, llow much fewer possess such a gift on religious and spiritual topics ! There are nine chances to one against your coming into contact with the mind of a devout person by merely being thrown with him in company. To see him in society is a different thing from seeing him in his closet, pursuing his meditations, and mixing Prayer with them. The nearest approach you can make to seeing him thus, and it is a very near approach indeed, is by reading his works of piety. In them is mirrored his best mind at his best moments. Words committed to the press are maturely considered and pruned of all excrescences, whereas in conversation there is ne- cessarily much that is extemporaneous, and still more that is redundant. Suppose now that we were made privy to much of the interior life of men eminent for piety, — that they communicated to us the counsel, which was the result of thier experience in religion, gave us their fresh thoughts upon the Holy Scriptures, threw out suggestions to us to help us in leading a holy life, made in our hearing remarks which had a certain heavenly savour and gave a relish for spiritual things, — suppose that they were constantly by our sides with these counsels, thoughts, suggestions, and remarks, — could we fail of deriving benefit from u.] Of Devotional Readinff, 1(H> our assootation with thorn? — must nut (nir minds, almost according to their natural constitution and indo pendently of the opemtion of Divine Gi-acc, insensibly take a tinge from theirs'? Shall it not bo that some glowing sentiment of theirs, thrown out like a hot ember from the fire of their zeal, shall light upon com- bustible material in our hearts, and kindle there the il i'Mi> of Divino love? Ollen has the opposite effect i>. rii produced by tales and poems, which have had a malignant tendency to stimulate the worst passions. If bad books arc a very powerful engine in the liands of the Devil, as there can be no doubt that they are, shall not good and holy books bo an equally powerful agency in the Economy of Grace ? No one who has really studied personal religion, who has cultivated the piety of the closet as distinct from that of the platform, will hesitate to acknowledge that they are so. (2) But the power of good books may be seen from another very important consideration respecting them. Spiritual reading has to a certain extent — more entirely for some minds than for others, but to a certain extent for all minds — t^iken the place of preaching : this has como about in the order of God's Providence, which has ordained the diflTusion of literature through the press, just as it has ordained many le^s important movements. Without at all denying that oral teaching has still cer- tain great prerogatives over teaching by books, that in voice, and manner, and generally in the influences which go to make up public speaking, there is some- thing electric and sympathetic, which no mere dead letter can ever supply, — and without denying also that the form of Cliristian teaching, which is closest lo tho primitive and Apostolic model, is more likely to have God's blessing upon it than a mere modern form, — it 110 Of Devotional Reading. [pakt would yet be preposterous in the highest degree to say that we are as dependent for religious instruction upon oral teaching, as the early Church was. We see no thing derogatory to the Christian Pulpit in acknow- ledging that God, in modern times, causes some, though not all, of its work to be done by religious literature. Such an acknowledgment, if rightly under- stood, does not degrade the pulpit, but exalts the literature. And here we come across a thought which must reappear presently in the shape of practical advice. The reading of spiritual books may be regarded, and ought to be regarded, more or less, in the light of a Divine Ordinance. That Preaching is an ordinance would be generally admitted by Protestants, and indeed must be admitted by all who take the New Testament as their guide. The only error which is sometimes allowed to cloud a little the clearness of the truth so admitted, is the narrowing the meaning of the word Preaching to a formal discourse delivered by a minister in the course of Divine worship. Instead of imposing upon the word this somewhat technical and cramped sense, take Preaching as being the communication of Divine knowledge to men through the instrumentality of men ; and then Preaching is in the fullest sense an Ordinance, yea, one of the chiefest Ordinances of the Gospel. " Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God." It is an Ordinance for the illus- tration, exposition, and application of Holy Scripture to the conscience. Instruction of this kind is essential to vital religion ; it is the oil of the spiritual lamp, which keeps Prayer burning. Only admit that the power of Preaching may come to some — nay, to all, more or less, — through a written, as well as through a spoken word. Only admit thfit there may be a hearing in the closet 11. 1 Of Devotional Reading, 1 1 1 with the inward, as in the Church with the outward car. But then this admission involves the duty, which wo arc all so slow to fulfil, of reading, no less than hcar- iiifi, witli all the solemnity of a devotional exercise. If it is wrong to bo otherwise than seriously attentivo to Preaching in Church, where the preacher is a living man, it is equally wrong to be otherwise than seriously attentive to Preaching in the closet, where the preacher is perhaps a dead one. And we doubt not that if good Christians were persuaded that some of the power and dignity of Preaching now rests upon the reading of good books, and if accordingly they read them with the same seriousness of spirit, and desire of edification, with which they listen, or try to listen, to formal Sermons, such books would bo largely blessed to quicken in them the spiritual life, and to advance the Kingdom of God in their hearts. II. But what suggestions may be given as to the conduct of this exercise 1 First, a discrimination must bo used in the choice of books. All good books are not equally attractive, and therefore not equally pro- fitable, to all minds. It is with spiritual very much as it is with bodily food. A man by a little experience, by a few trials, and by a short insight into his own constitution, soon gets to know that this or that is bad for him, that this or that, on the other hand, is for liim digestible and wholesome. I say, for him. Probably it would be a mistake in medicine to assert that, independently of the constitution, circumstances, and temperament of the patient, any particular food was digestible or the reverse. And certainly it is a grand mistake in Theology to suppose that all the pro- ductions of devout writers are equally serviceable to overy class of minds. It is notoriously the reverse. In His Holy Scriptures, which arc the great fontal 112 Of Devotional Reading. [part abyss from which every work of piety and devotion must be drawn, the Lord has given us an infinite varie- ty of Inspired Literature. What literature is there which does not find itself represented in the Holy Scrip- ture, — poetry, history, biography, proverbs, letters, fa- bles, allegories'? There never was a boolc so little monotonous as the Bible, so continually changing its key, if so be that some, at all events, may be charmed by the voice of the Heavenly Charmer. The same Spirit, who inspired the Holy Scriptures, gave great diversity of gifts to the early Christian teachers. All were not Apostles, nor all prophets, nor all teachers, nor did all speak with tongues, nor all interpret. And now that the supernatural gifts have died out of the Church, the same Spirit observes the same rule of va- riety in the different mental endowments, which He distributes to different teachers of Divine Truth. All men's writings have not the same power over all men's minds. Is there not a plain testimony to this in the avowal which we hear so often made ; " I know I ought to like such and such a book, which all the world agrees in praising ; but I cannot do it 1 " What the com- plaint really means is, that the book does not suit' you, that the general strain of the author's mind has not that harmony with the general strain of yours, which will give him an influence over you for good. That being the case, leave him alone, — without however doubting or denying the power which he may have over other minds. Even in the Holy Scriptures themselves we think ourselves quite warranted in selecting those passages which are most suitable to the circumstances, intelligence, and character of the readei'. No one would think of recommending a peasant to engage himself much with the Book of the Revelation, or a child to study the eighth chapter to the Romans. Much more, 11.] Of Devotional Reading. 1 1 H then may wc exercise a similar discretion with those works, whicli, however pious and edifying, do not come to us on the authority of Inspiration. Choose, then, liioso books to which, from a cursory knowledge of heir contents, you find yourself most drawn. There i!-c several which have attained the rank of standard \\ orks, from their possessing excellences of various 1 inds. Such are the Saint's Rest, the Pilgrim's Pro- .rcss (which all know a little of. but very few have studied), the ImiUition of Christ by Thomas i Kcmpis, Taylor's Holy Living and Dying, Cecil's Remains, the Thoughts of Adam, Pascal's Thoughts on Religion, Hishop Ilall's Contemplations, Edwards on the Reli- ^'ious Affections, Leighton's Commentary on St. Peter, the Christian Year, and several others which will at once suggest themselves to all who have a general ac- quaintance with our religious literature. To these I may add Foster's Sermons, and Archer Butler's Ser- mons, both of which combine originality of view with piety of sentiment in an unusual degree, and also two works which are most valuable as theological compen- diums, while their authors never lose sight of the edifi- cation of the heart, Griffith on the Creed, and the Bishop of Tasmania's (Nixon's) Lectures on the Cate- chism. There are indeed many devotional publications, especially some of recent date, which will seem more attractive than the above, and which will better meet the unhealthy craving for something new and highly flavored, which now is so generally prevalent. But spiritual nourishment resembles natural nourishment in tlib respect, that the most stimulating is by no means the most wholesome or the most safe. He who hon- estly reads for edification must not discard a book for being dry, as if he read for diversion. In a certain tern per of mind the Holy Scriptures themselves will fall 114 Of Devotional Reading. [part upon us as insipid ; it will seem to us as if we knew them by heart, and had nothing farther to learn from them, as if. they could neither settle controversy nor quicken thought. But this temper of mind is one in which we are incapable of edification, however capable we may be of amusement. In a right state of mind, those books will please us most which most resemble the Holy Scriptures — which are most weighty, most sober, most simple, most savoring of a spiritual mind. But suppose our book chosen, and chosen well and wisely. In what manner shall we read it ? The an- swer to this question has implicitly been given already. Read it as a devotional exercise, mixing Prayer, or at least devout aspirations, with the reading. Every thing that can be said on the subject is really wrapped up in this, — that the reading shall be devotional. Yet we will expand the thought a very little. Think of the author as now a member of the Church triumphant, one who is with Christ in Paradise, end for aught you know, looking down upon your struggles and trials from a sphere where sin and sorrow are un- known. Regard this book as a sort of letter sent from him to you, to encourage you on your heavenward pil- grimage, and to stir in you a livelier hope of the in- heritance to which he has (by Grace) attained. By de- grees you shall feel attracted in a strange way, though you have never seen him, towards his mind, as it is mir- rored in his writings, and shall realize something of the sentiments described in that beautiful passage of the Cliristian Year : — Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine, Along the glorious line, Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet, We'll hold communion sweet, 1 1 . j Of Devotional Readint;, 1 1 f) Know them bj look ftud voice, and thank them oil For helping us in thrall, For words of hope, and bright cnsamplos gircn, To show through moonless skies that there is light in Ueaven." The recollection that you read for edification, and not V curiosity, or to serve a controversial purpose, will suggest many wholesome rules. Carefully eschew all dissipation in the method of reading. Dissipation is the great snare of all study, whether secular or religious, in the present day. There is so much to read,— such profusion of matter in every department of literature, nay even in the public journals, — that insensibly the habit is formed of skipping the dull, and sipping the interesting, and never honouring any book with a fair and thorough perusal. We must set ourselves in opposition to this habit., if we wish to profit by devo- tional reading. Books must be read through from end to end, if it were only as a corrective to that discursive ibit of mind, which the literature of the day fosters, and which is so particularly inimical to devotion. Generally speaking, a second book of devotion should not be taken up, till the first is finished. If the time which we can spare for such reading is short, books of thoughts, more or less sentcntiously expressed (such as some of those I have mentioned, and to which I may here add " Selections from the Writings of Payson"), will be found very serviceable. The eye soon runs over a few lines, which convey a weighty sentiment ; and, when the sentiment is caught, the mind may recur to it at spare moments during the rest of/he day. We have already said that good and holy sentiments are the oil which feeds the lamp of Prayer. They are emphatically so. And this suggests an occasional use 116 Of Fasting. [part of good books, over and above their regular and normal use. There are seasons known to every devout person, when the vessel of-the heart seems to run dry, and the flame of Prayer burns low in the socket. You may then often replenish the vessel by reading the favourite spiritual author. Pass your eye once more over that marked passage, — over those words which glow with such a fervour of devout sentiment ; and the oil ^vill flow again, drop by drop, into the vessel. Particularly may this be done with Christian poetry. Poetry is the voice of the affections ; and, therefore, has- a peculiar tendency to quicken the affections. The music of David's harp chased away from Saul the evil spirit of moody sullenness. Elisha's minstrel, playing with his hand, laid such p. spell upon the prophet's mind, that the hand of the Lord came upon him, and he pro- phesied. And the minstrelsy of psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs, has often brought the Christian out of a state of mind, in which Prayer seemed a' labour and a drudgery, if not an impossibility, into that calm, and holy frame, in which he could again *put forth spiritual energies, and has found himself able to renew his interrupted converse with God. Give the specific a trial, and you shall ere long know its virtue for your- self. CHAPTER yil. OF FASTIXG. ^'- 1 keep under myhody^ and bring it into subjection.'''' — 1 Cor. ix. 27. The passage whicb stands at the head of this, chapter carries our minds at once to the subject of Fasting. And it is a subject on which those who desire above all II. I Of Fasti I,'!. 11 V other things quiet advancement in the religious cliarac- 1* will gladly hail counsel and direction. Fasting is a practice uncongenial to that form of piety which con- sists wholly in good emotions and serious impressions. But if any one is profoundly discontented with emotions r'.nd impressions which terminate on themselves, and .^ve no mark on the character; if any one seeks growth in grace and knowledge as the only satisfactory criterion of Spiritual Life, the subject of Fasting will seem to that person worthy at least of serious considerar tion, as a practice which, if discreetly and devoutly used, might at all events conduce to his advancement. By many of my readers Fasting is probably looked at so much as an obsolete exercise, and the revival of it would be regarded as so irksome, that it is necessary, in ap- proaching the subject, to pray for an ingenuous and open mind, ready to welcome any conclusions to which God's Word may seem to lead us. To the question whether Fasting is prescribed in lloly Scripture, it must be answered that in its literal form it is nowhere prescribed, but that its spirit and principle is strongly insisted upon. Also it may be said, that, though not commanded, it is strongly com- mended, both by Our Lord's assumption in the Sermon on the Mount that IILs followers will practise it, and by the example not only of Scriptural saints, but of holy men in modem times, to whatever Theological School they may have belonged. In both these re- spects it bears some resemblance to the practice of keep- ing Sunday, which I shall have occasion presently to draw into a further comparison with it Keeping Sun- day is nowhere literally prescribed in Holy Scripture, nie Fourth Commandment, understood in the letter, 118 Of Fasting, [part prescribes the keeping holy the seventh day, which none but the Jews ever do keep. But the principle of set- ting apart a portion of our time to God, both weekly and daily, and the principle of assembling ourselves together for Public Worship, which cannot be done by the whole community unless occupations cease on a given day, is clearly recognized in several passages. And, as in the matter of the weekly rest, the Church, or Christian Society, has stepped in from the very ear- liest time, and prescribed that the day of Christ's Res- urrection (or first day) is to be observed instead of the seventh, so somewhat analogously the Church has given a definite shape to the Scriptural principle of self-denial ; and appointed certain days in her Calendar as days of Fasting and Abstinence. Moreover, inasmuch as no religious person has ever slighted this Ordinance of the Lord's Day, or lived in habitual disregard of it, so I be lieve that no man eminent for piety (and here the ap- peal must be made to Religious Biography) has ever failed to exemplify in some measure the practice of Fasting, though doubtless the modes in which the prin- ciple has been exemplified have been very various. In pursuance of the thoughts with which I have opened the subject, I will speak first of the principle of Fasting, as universally binding upon Christians ; and, secondly, of Fasting as an observance for which special days have been set apart. I. "What is the principle of Fasting ? Let us gather it from the words of St. Paul : " I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection." It should be remarked at the outset, that both the verbs by which the Apostle here denotes the discipline of the body are strong and peculiar. The first occurs only once again in the New II. I Of Fasting. lU Testament, and the second never again. The first car- ries on a metaphor, which the Apostle has already era- ployed in the previous verse : " So fight I, not as one tliat bcateth the air." The fighting here alluded to is not fighting with swords, but that pugilistic encounter with the cestns, or boxing glove, which formed one of the Greek games held in honor of the god Neptune at the Isthmus of Corinth, and which therefore the Apos- tle's Corinthian converts had frequently witnessed. In what follows he pursues the same image. His body ho regards as his antagonist in a pugilistic encounter ; and accordingly employs a peculiar word, which, literally t ranslated, signifies, " But I cover my body with bruises." [It should perhaps be observed by the way, that the Apostle's Corinthian readers would by no means attach to the allusion those ideas of a coarse and brutalizing -port which we can hardly help connecting with it. All he games held at the Isthmus would be regarded by licm not only as exercises of chivalrous gallantry, like I he tournaments of the Middle Ages, but as solemn re- ligious festivals, held in honor of the god Poseidon.] The next word, by which he denotes the discipline in- flicted by bim on his body, would be more exactly ren- dered, "I reduce it to a condition of slavery" — a stronger expression this than merely, " I bring it into subjection." The children are in subjection to the father, the wife to the husband ; but this is a compara- tively mild rule, which not only consults the interests of the governed, but appeals to their reason and con- science. A slave, however, according to the views of slavery current when the Apostle wrote, was simply a living piece of property, who had no rights and no claims, and who, if he were rebellious or insolent, must 120 Of Fasting. [part be chastised by blows, and coerced by being made to grind in the prison-bouse. So mucb for the words wbicb are now more imme- diately under review. But from the Apostle's style of writing, wbicb is a style of copious digression, very few of bis w^eigbty words can be appreciated, unless we trace tbem back to tbeir connection with tbe general argument. Tbey all bave tbeir roots grappled deep into that argument; and, accordingly, to ^isolate tbem and consider tbem apart from tbe context, is like rudely tear- ing up a flower, instead of looking at it wbile it waves its fair tresses upon tbe flower-bed ; — even wbile we gaze, it loses its grace and fresbness, and withers in our band. What then led St. Paul to speak of this severe discipbne which be inflicted upon bis body ? In the foregoing chapter he had been advocating certain restric- tions (in reference to meats offered to idols) which the Corinthians were to observe, not at all out of conscience, but out of consideration for the prejudices of others. En the chapter before us, he thus pursues the train of ideas which bad been started by that topic : " Do not murmur because a restriction is thus laid upon you in things which ye might innocently enjoy; for do not I myself lay many such restrictions upon myself? In one point especially I do so. I might — not innocently alone, but most lawfully — claim support from you to whom I preach. The Lord bath ordained that they wbicb preach the Gospel should live of the Gospel ; and I have as good a right to stand upon this ordinance as other Apostles. If I threw myself upon you for main- tenance, it w^ould only be asserting what is my Divine prerogative, and claiming from you not a gratuity but tbe fulfilment of a solemn duty. But all of you know 11. 1 Of Fasting, 1:1 that I bavo novcr stood upon my ngbt, nor accept- ed a single denarius from any of you. Wliy not? T':irtly, because I feel that this manifested disintcrested- oss will conduce to the great cause which I advocate, and give mo influence and weight in certain quarters where I desire an influence. But I have another reason. I know that it is a hard thing to be saved. I know that my dc^ir Master said that strait was the gate and narrow was the way that leadeth unto life, and that IV' w there be that find it I know that I am a highly- privileged man ; but that does not make me a safe man. Rather I know that eminent privileges involve eminent dangers, even as the being placed on a lofty pinnacle creates dizzfhess and imperils life. In short, I know that I am unsafe if I usfc my Christian liberty to the full extent. I know that I cannot insist upon every thing which I might lawfully enjoy, and at the same time be secure. So I do not stand upon my right in this particular. I earn my own bread by the sweat of my brow. When I have comforted and edified my flock in the district where I happen to be, and chosen pastors for them, and laid hands upon those pastors, and dictated my Epistles to those distant Churches, with which I am present in spirit, though absent from them in body — then I grasp the hammer, the saw, and the needle, and set to work upon my tent-poles, and upon the shaggy goat's hair which forms the covering of my tents. True ; it is severe labor — cruelly severe — lasting sometimes long into the night, when the day has been one of cares, and prayers, and earnest expostulations with tears. I know that the body is wearing out, and the outward man perishing beneath the stress of such labors. Well ; but I feel it to be essential. It is not C f 122 Of Fasting. [part by exertion simply, but by straining every nerve and sinew, that your runners in tlie Isthmian foot-race gain tlie pine-garland, wliicli is tlie victor's meed. It is not by empty and pretentious flourisbes of tbeir bands in tbe air, but by well-aimed and well-planted blows that your Istbmian pugilists overwhelm their antagonists. And so, being resolved to gain the mastery over my fleshly and animal nature, I deny it much of the rest and many of the indulgences which it might lawfully enjoy. I batter it with toils and Ikbors, I coerce it firmly, and chastise it as being my slave. . "I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection^: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." Now what is the principle of Christian discipline which the Apostle is here laying down ? Let me ex- hibit it to you in a figure — a figure which, if not itself found in Holy Scripture, is yet only an expansion and development of one which is frequently found there. We are called, nay we are in virtue of our Baptism, children of God. It is upon this relationship, and the sentiments and duties flowing from it, that the Apostle builds his exhortation when he says, " Be ye therefore followers " (the literal translation is " imitators " — the allusion being to the trick of imitating the parent which the child readily acquires) " of God, as dear children.'* The phrase "walking with God" maybe drawn into the circle of the same imagery. The child walks by the father's side over the breezy down, holding his hand, and looking up into his face ever and anon to ask ques- tions and obtain an explanation of difficulties. The Christian in like manner walks in affiance and trust along the thorny paths of life, guided by the Word and II. I Of Fasting, 121 Providence of his Ilcavenly Father, and leaning on His wisdom and His grace. Now extend this imagery a lit- tle. Imagine the child leaving the father's hand for a moment^ and sporting about under his eye. Partly tVom curiosity, and partly from that spirit of frohc which i- attracted by danger and the prospect of an enterprise, the child nears a steep cliff. What does the father do ? 1 le cries, " Come away immediately." The spot where the child is may be perfectly safe, so long as he contin- ues there ; the child's weight may be so light that there »>uld be no danger of a projecting boulder toppling ver with him ; the sea-breeze at the verge of the preci- pice may be delicious and bracing, and the turf may be enamelled with daisies and buttercups ; but the stem command is repeated in a voice which the child knows he must not disobey : " Come away instantly, without a moment's delay." And reasonably so. It is not reason to venture too near danger, or to continue in its neighborhood. Dizziness may seize the child, or he may be tempted onwards to an insecure spot. A moth, which flies so near the bright flame as just to presene its wings from being singed, is a foolish moth and cer- tain to come to mischief. Now apply all this to our spiritual walk along the perilous and slippery, though sometimes flowery, path of life. " All things are law- ful unto me, but all things are not expedient : all things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under tie power of any." Take the various forms of worldly amusement. So far ^^ they are really amusements and not labor and sorrow (which in fact many of them are, dreadfully jading the body and mind, and exhausting llie energies), and so far as no breach of God's moral law is involved in them, they are innocent and lawful 124 Of Fasting, [part Nay, we go furtlier. Amusements of au intelligent and rational cliaracter are a positive benefit ; for the mind, wherewith alone we can serve God acceptably, needs relaxation as urgently as the body needs sleep. But it is one thing to say of amusements that in themselves they are innocent and lawful ; quite another thing to say that Christians must lay no restrictions upon them- selves as regards amusement. St. Paul, when he be- came an Apostle, might have lawfully parted with his whole stock in trade as a tentmaker, and might have held himself exempt from other cares and labors, save those of the Sacred Ministry. Did I say lawfully? Nay, we may go further. There was an order of the Lord for his doing so, if he pleased. But St. Paul knew that he must not use his Christian liberty to the full extent, if he would be safe. And we surely, who are not burning, shining lights like that extraordinary man, but very humble and commonplace Christians, living in the low range of commonplace trials and in- firmities, and altogether unworthy to stoop down and unloose the shoe-latchet of the humblest saint of Jesus, can hardly dispense with a discipline which St. Paul considered to be essential for himself. Does any one find by experience that some worldly amusement, the. ugh innocent in itself, and very possibly innocent for others (let us remember in judging others on these points, that " to the pure all things are pure "), yet has a tendency to inflame his passions, to set up his vanity, and to brugh rudely from his mind the tj^ought of God's Pres ence ? Then let there be no compromise. Let him lis- ten to the Voice of the Everlasting Father calling him out of harm's way : " My child, come away instantly.* But supposing he experiences no evil spiritual effect il] 0/ Fasting. 125 from the indulgence, or at least none of which he is >n8cion8, may ho abandon himself without restriction to the amusement in question, live in it, sacrifice a con >icleniblo amount of money, leisure, time to it ? Surely not To live in any amusement is to be the slave of it And the Christian should spurn any such dependence. The tone which he takes up toward all innocent enjoy- ments and recreations should be just that of the Apos- tle, "All things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any." Besides, the Chris- tian dares not give himself full latitude in this respect With an insidious heart, with crafty spiritual foes watch- ing for his halting, with that awful warning respecting the straitness of the gate and the narrowness of the way ringing in his ear, it would not be safe to do so. He sports not within a very wide margin of the precipice's edge. Now it is quite clear that the principle which we have laid down admits of an application to food, as well as to all other less essential recreations. And it is equally clear that in respect of food, as well as other recreations, the Christian must be under the guidance and government of this principle. By the bounty of Our Heavenly Father, too little thought of, because it reaches us through a train of secondary causes (such as good harvests, prosperity in the country, our own abil- ity to buy, our own abiUty to get), our board is daily spread not with necessaries only, but with luxuries. We may innocently enjoy these things, if we partake of them with thanksgiving. " Every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiving : for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer." Meats are in themselves a matter of 126 Of Fasting. [part indifference ; and tTie Christian has nothing in common with the ascetic, who imagines that in the mere act of abstinence there is a pmity and a virtue. But it is quite another thing to say that we may with safety indulge in food to satiety, and lay no restraint upon our appetite for choice viands and delicate fare. In the first place, there are, as every one knows, certain classes of sins, to which any thing approaching to soft and luxurious liv- ing would act as a direct incentive and. stimulant. Fast- ing combined with earnest prayer must be in reason. \hQ meet corrective for such sins. But it is so in Scripture, as well as in reason. Commenting upon His disciples' mabihty to cast out the foul spirit from the lunatic child, Our Lord implied that their failure was due to their not having used the means always found necessary under those circumstances : " This kind can come forth by nothing but by prayer andi fasting y But suppose other cases, in which the spiritual con- sequences of unbridled indulgence are not, as far as we can perceive, mischievous. Even then we say, "You cannot possibly be safe in using your Christian liberty to its utmost extent. Safety without self-denial is the safety of the child gambolling on the edge of the preci- pice, and of the moth fluttering in the ray of the can- dle. Some men — many more than suspect themselves to be so — are slaves of food — peevish and fretful, if the natural craving for it be in the least stinted or thwarted. Is their Christianity cast in the mould of St. Paul's ? We doubt not that they relish his views of Christian liberty ; but do they equally relish his views of Chris- tian restriction ? And yet it is in the restriction that the highest freedom of the Gospel lies. If, as regards any one innocent enjoyment, a man has not moral cour- n.] Of Fa$tinrj, 127 nnjo cnougli, or foiw ». v........ .v. , ..v v.:^.., ^v> ab.sUiiu from it occasionally, to that enjoyment the man is a slave. And the only true freedom lies in his obtaining by Grace such force of character as to bo lord para- mount over the enjoymenti and to be able to say, ** I could easily dispense with this or that comfort^ if there were any good object for resigning it" But then this power of easily dispensing with comforts is not to bo gained except by actual practice and experiment To all the numerous blessings of daily life, wherewith a liountiful God crowns our cup, we have no idea, we can liave no idea, how much we are wedded, until we are deprived of them. While in the enjoyment of them, we readily fancy that, at a moment's notice, if need arose, we could dispense with these trifles, and scarcely feel their loss ; but this fancy argues very little acquaint- ance with the human heart That heart, wherever it plants itself in life, throws out suckers of dependence all around it No soil is so muddy, no root is so dry and rotten, that the heart will not grapple a sucker into it, will not twine a sucker round it ; so that when torn away from the muddy soil and the rotten root, the heart bleeds. What Religion says is, " Learn gradually, not to puriiy yourself by pain (that is the dream of the ascetic), not to expiate your sin by self-inflicted torture (that is abhorrent to the Christian mind, as infringing on the only meritorious Atonement of the Saviour), but to detach your afliections from all things earthly and sensual, and aim at a despotic control over every appe- tite." That is the fundamental principle of Fasting ; and it is a principle which every man must carry out in his daily life, one after this manner and another after that, if he desires to be a good soldier of Jesus Christ 128 Of Fasting, [part No good soldier ever refused to endure Ldrdsliips. \Aniat would the general say, if the soldier a\ erred a distaste for the hard fare, the broken slumbers, and the scanty accommodation incidental to camp life ? II. But it may be said that the self-control (or in other words the temperance) which I am advocating, should run parallel with our daily life, and not be con fined to stated seasons. Most true, as far as the bare statement goes ; but most false, if what is intended or implied by the state- ment be that stated seasons of Fasting, such as our Church appoints, are useless formalities, which had bet- ter be expunged from the Liturgy. The " Table of the Fasts, and Days of Abstinence, to be observed in the Year," standing (as it docs) in the forefront of the Book of Common Prayer, is a solemn and valuable reminder to us that habits of self-control form an essential part of the Christian character — a solemn, and now greatly needed protest from the book, which, next to the Holy Scriptures, we are most bound to venerate, against the luxury and softness of a degenerate age and an over- wrought civilization. But more than this — ^much more. It is, indeed, most true that self-control is to be the dis- cipline of a life, not the fitfully-adopted practice of an Ember week, or of a Friday, or of Lent. But those know little indeed of the human heart who do not know that a duty for which no stated seasons are set apart, more especially if it be an unpalatable duty, is apt to be altogether evaded by the conscience. That which has no time of its own, but simply may be done, and ought to be done at every time, is. sure to be done never. The God who made the human heart, must know the human II.] Of Fasting. 129 heart And bccnusc He saw ami knew iu tciulfiicy to find loopholes of escape from observances, which have no definite season, lie instituted the Sabbath in the law of the Fourth Commandifient^ between which and the Ecclesiastical Institution of Fasting Days there is much wliich is very analogous. Undoubtedly men should " pray without ceasing," and not on the Sunday only. Undoubtedly, men should surrender some portion of their daily, and not only of their weekly leisure, to prayer (private and domestic), and to the study of God*8 Word. Undoubtedly men should every day withdraw into the screened sanctuary of their own hearts, and resting awhile from worldly cares, give their minds to .heavenly contemplation. But undoubtedly, also, the restrictions of the Sabbath-law are wise and useful re- strictions. Judge in yourselves whether they be not so indeed. Suppose that a day of religious rest were pre- scribed by no authority. Suppose that, worship and meditation being pressed upon us as urgently as they are at present, the time of fulfilling these duties had been left to our o>vn option, and that the seventh day were undistinguished by any special consecration of it. Can you suppose that, under these circumstances, there would have been one tithe of the devotion in Christen- dom which there is at present ? Would not the result infallibly be that the Lord's tax upon our time would be altogether disregarded — that our odious cupidity would overleap every barrier of reason and conscience — that there would be no pause to the toils of the artisans in our factories — no cessation in the jingle of commerce among our crowded thoroughfares — and that, if any one were inclined for a pause or a break, or felt his 1 30 Of Fasting. [part heart yearn a little for the tinkling of Church bells, and the beautiful sight of Christ's flock coming to worship Him in His House of Prayer, bis neighbors would ^ay to that relenting man, " Come and let us make a little more money to-day ; and, as for God, we can think of Him at any time " ? Is it not clear that, as human na- ture goes, the ordinance of the Fourth Commandment is a real security for a certain amount of devotion ? And, although we freely admit that Fasting Days ai;^ not of Divine, but only of Ecclesiastical, appointment, yet is not the same reasoning applicable to them ? In the ordinary course of things, are men likely to exer- cise self-control more or less, if certain days are specially set apart for the exercise? Anyhow, they are certain^ to exercise it little enough ; but we are sure that if the ordinance of the Fasting Days were expunged from the Calendar, they would exercise it still less. Therefore it is that we bless God that we have as yet at all events retained these days ; that we have not as yet surren- dered them up to the spirit of license and dislike of religious restraints, and therefore it is that we recom- mend Christians, not in a spirit of sour asceticism, but in the exercise of a sound and wise Christian discre- tion, to observe these days by some restrictions upon their liberty as to innocent comforts, enjoyments, and recreations — the restrictions being always limited by regard to health (any interference with which would be not only sinful in itself, but a positive contradiction of the end of Fasting, which is to clear, and not to cloud the mind) and being always guarded as far as possible from the notice of others. I cannot conclude without pointing out, that the ii.l Of Fasting, 131 aiMU'L;} which 1 ha\c bUj^gcstcd between the Jjiviuo Institution of tbo Sabbath and the Ecclesiastical Insti- tution of Fiisting Days, is one which, if carried out, would effectually rectify the abuses to which Fasting is exposed. Observe that, if any good result is to bo looked for from it, the Fast Day (like the Sabbath Or dinancc) must be spiritualized and Christianized — re- deemed from Judaism and the bondage of the letter, and kept in the freedom of the Spirit. The Sabbath- law, as it stands in the Ten Commandments, merely prescribes rest on the seventh day. But no Christian imagines that mere literal rest is, of itself and by itself, a sufficient fulfilment of the precept. No Christian imagines that a man who should sleep all Sunday, or loiter about in indolence all Sunday, would be observing the Sabbath-law, or indeed doing any thing but contrar- vening it. Such an obedience would bo in the letter and not in the spirit. The spirit of the precept enjoins public worship, holy thought and reading, deeds of love, and cheerful Christian intercourse. Apply the same observation to the Fasting Day. Tlie mere omission or retrenchment of a meal is by itself nothing. It will be worse than nothing — it will contravene the spirit of the Ordinance — if it make us morose instead of cheer- ful, or disqualify us for the exercise of the inind in Prayer, Self-examination, and study of the Scriptures. Fasting is designed as a help to Prayer ; and the mo- ment it becomes an hindrance, that moment it defeats its own end. It is designed also as a help to Almsgiv- ing — a retrenchment of our own superfluities to supply the needs of the poor. Now AlmsgiWng can only be acceptably practised in a spirit of love ; and therefore 132 Of Fasting. [part to allow Fasting to interfere with tliose little duties of love, kindness, and consideration, which we owe to those around us, is again a counteraction of its end. For some constitutions, doubtless, the self-control re- quired of them lies in other departments rather than in that of food. Surely there are subjects enough in which we may lay a restriction upon ourselves, comforts enough which we may spare for the good of others, superfluities enough which we may retrench. We can- not be at any real loss for a quarter in which tp exercise self-denial ; and so long as it is wisely and lovingly ex- ercised, the quarter is a matter of quite secondary im- portance. Whatever be the form which we adopt of keeping under our body and bringing it into subjection, let us at all events take care to spiritualize it by a larger amount of Prayer and devotional retirement, by medi tation upon our sins, by acts of kindness, by deeds of love. As regarding the observance of Lent generally, so regarding the specific observance of Fast Days, we feel that it is specially demanded by the times on which we are fallen. Here again we believe, that in a faithful adherence to the system of our Church is to be found a remedy for the tremendous social evils which ever at- tend the progress of Civilization, when that progress becomes unhealthily rapid. The iniquity of Sodom is said to have consisted in " pride, fulness of bread, abundance of idleness," and neglect of " strengthening the hands of the poor and needy." If with " abun- dance of idleness " our times and country cannot be justly taxed, the other traits — haughtiness, luxury, and hard-hearted inconsiderateness — are frightfully exempli- 11.1 "^f J^osiitiff, 133 lied 111 t»ur neli aiul prosperous comiiiuim\. " Fulncss of bread" especially. The luxuries and over-refine- ments of the age — all the manifold softnesses whereby art contrives to make life easy, and to soothe the little wearinesses, and minister to the little whims of the opu- lent — remind the student of profane history of the de- generate effeminacy of manners under the earlier Ro- man Emperors — those monsters of cruelty and of lust. AMiile in the mind of the student of Scripture, these luxuries call up sterner and more awful associations, as he remembers what was the end of the certain rich man, at whoso gate was laid Lazarus full of sores, while he himself " was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day." The flesh grows wanton and insolent ; the spirit just kept alive in the nation by the august presence of the Gospel, and by the ministra- tions of a Church whose labors are totally incommen- surate to the extent of her harvest-field, pines and lan- guishes, and is ready to die. Now the remedy for this state of things is the revival of the Fast Day — not in the narrowness of a mere literal observance, but in that spirit of humiliation and love and self-restraint, to which alone God has respect. It was one of Our dear Lord's last warnings to Ilis followers : " Take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares." May this warning ring like an alarum in the ears of this soft and luxurious generation ! And that it may do so, let us fall at the knees of Him who gave it, with that Prayer of our Church, which in a few short lines expresses the whole use and force and significance of Fasting : 134 On Almsgiving. [part " O Lord, wlio for our sake didst fast forty days and forty nights : Give us grace to use sucli abstinence, that, our flesh being subdued to the Spirit, we may ever obey Thy godly motions in righteousness and true holiness, to Thy honor and glory, who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end." CHAPTER YHI. ox ALMSGIVING. " TJiy p-ayers and thine alms arc come up for a memorial before God." — ^AcTS X. 4. These are the words, in which an angel assures Cor- nelius that his way of life has met with God's approval. " His prayers and his alms had come up for a memorial before God." His own account of what the angel said to him notices the same two points, with a very trifling verbal discrepancy : " A man stood before me in bright clothing, and said, Cornelius, thy prayer is heard, and thine alms are had in remembrance in the sight of God." And the sketch of the life of Cornelius, drawn by the Evangelist, has the same features. He is described as " a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house " — (so much for his general character ; now for the particular exercises by which the character expressed itself) — " who gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God always This Chapter shall be devoted to the subject of 1 i . J On Aim sryivinff, i / Alrasgiving; and wc upcu ii by observing the position Nvhich Almsgiving holds in tho scheme of Christian liity. "Thy prayers and thine alms." There is a lecpcr meaning in tho circumstances of Prayers and Alms being noticed side by side than might at first sight appear. Alms are the correlative of prayers. The two exercises arc, if I may so say, branches from a common stem, which binds them together. And what is that common stem ? It is tho moral Law of God ; that Law to which, though it be not the Cove- nant under which (as Christian men) we live, we must yet be conformed as a rule of life. The Law branches out, as we know, into two great precepts — supremo and unbounded Love to God, and Love to our neighbor as to ourselves. Now the man who really and habitually prays, the man who lives in the spirit of prayer, fulfils tlie first great branch of duty. True spiritual prayer — " the eflcctual, fervent prayer of a righteous man," such s was ComeUus — is tho outcome and expression of a man's duty to God. Such prayer is called in Scripture '* incense ; " partly from its reaching the Throne of Grace, even as incense, when kindled, soars up to the sky ; partly from its spiritual fragrance and acceptability. " Let my prayer be set forth in Thy sight (u the inn cense.^* Ajid the man who gives alms, in the true spirit of almsgiving, is equally fulfilling the second great branch of duty. Devout almsgiving — such as was that of ComeUus, who " gave much alms to the people," and that of the centurion in the Gospel, who loved the Jewish nation, and built for them a synagogue — is the outcome and expression of a man's duty to his neigh- bor. Yet think not that the act passes no further than 136 On Almsgiving. [part to our nciglibor. It too, no less than prayer, comes up before God as a memorial. It too, no less than prayer, finds in the fragrant, soaring incense its Scriptural em- blem and type. " I have all, and abound " (says the grateful Apostle, Avhose need had been supplied by his Philippian converts) ; " I am full, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent from you ; dn odor of a sweet smelly a sacrifice acceptable^ well-pleas- ing to Gody Thus, then. Prayer and Almsgiving are seen to be coordinate. This circumstance alone lends a value to Almsgiving, which perhaps we have not been apt to attach to it. Viewed side by side with Prayer, as the expression of love to our fellow-men, it assumes a posi- tion and a significance which we never hitherto gave it credit for. Nay, if truth must be said, we have been occasionally somewhat suspicious of Almsgiving. In the term itself we have fancied we heard a legal ring, as if it were not genuine Gospel coin ; and some of us, it may be, have secretly regarded those happy characters, who are profuse and munificent in relieving the distress of others, as seeking to be justified by the works of the Law and not by the faith of Christ. But this correla- tion between Prayer and Alms puts the subject in a new light. Almsgiving need be no more a work of human merit than Prayer is. Neither Almsgiving nor Prayer can justify the sinner. No almsgiving, however profuse, and no prayer, however fervent, can wipe away a single stain of guilt from the soul. That is the special and exclusive prerogative of the Blood of Christ's Atone- ment. But both Prayer and Almsgiving — the one as well as the other — " come up for a memorial before God," II.] On Almsgiving, *187 when offorod to Him in faith, even in such imperfect aod inchoate faith as that of Cornelius must have been, before he heard the preaching of the Gospel from the Apostle Peter. It must however be obvious that, as it is not every so-called Prayer, so it is not every so-called Alms, of which the great things that have been said above can with truth be predicated. We have been speaking of Prayer in its broadest sense, as embracing every form of communion with God ; and of Alms also we have been speaking in the broadest sense which the terra will bear ; not merely as an occasional dole to the poor, but as the relief of human distress from a deep living sympathy with man's sufferings and sorrows. I have looked at Almsgiving for the moment as the genuine expression of Christian Charity, just as I have looked at Prayer for the moment as the genuine expression of Christian Piety. But this, we know, is by no means the case with every Alms and every Prayer. Both in the case of Prayers and of Alms the act has, in the sadly degenerate practice of Christians, become detached from the spirit which should animate it, and which alone can render it acceptable. Prayer is performed by multitudes (performance, alas ! is the correct word) without the smallest sense of its being a privilege or a refreshment, merely because conscience or the usages of society exact a certain measure of it And Alms, simi- larly, are extorted reluctantly from the majority of those who givo them, with a feeling that any petition for them, whether coming from the persons in need, or from the minister of God acting in their behalf, is an importunity of which we would willingly be rid. It 138 On Almsgiving. [part cannot be imagined that sucli Prayers or such Akns have any acceptability on high. Let US inquire then in what spirit Alms may be so given as to come up for a memorial before God. And may God bless our reflections on this subject, not only to the enlightenment of the understanding, but to the stimulating and strengthening of our wills ! Pursuing then still the parallel between Prayers and Alms, which has been already drawn Qut, we remark that both these oflferings to God must be ma4e, not on casual impulse, not as the mere inspiration of a happy moment, but on principle.. As regards Prayer, this is generally acknowledged, and need scarcely be pressed. No one, it may be presumed, thinks that he has acquit- ted himself of his duty as a Christian, unless he has offered Prayer systematically and periodically. No one probably could satisfy his conscience by lifting up his heart to God only when he found himself in a happy frame for doing so. Acceptable as such a plan might be to our natural indolence, it would scarcely approve itself to our minds as right, if we should say, " I shall abandon stated Prayer altogether ; I shall leave Prayer for those happy moments, few and far between, like an- gels* visits, when the mind is released from care, made complacent by good health, good spirits, and good for- tune ; or when it is inclined to serious thought by a good Sermon or by a visitation of Providence." How- ever such a plan might defend itself argumcntatively as a method of avoiding formalism and unreaUty in Prayer, the instinct of the Christian mind would at once repudiate it as wrong. In the first place, the duty which is left for performance at a convenient season is u. I On Almsgiving, 139 too sure, according to the ordinary laws of human expe- rience, to find no season wliich is convenient ; and he who defers sjiiling till ho has wind, weather, and tide all in his favor, is apt to cud by never setting sail at all. In the second pbice, Prayer is not simply (or chiefly) for the edification of the individual soul (in which case there might, perhaps, bo some reason in deferring it till we could perform it with sensible profit and compla- cency) ; it is also an act of homage to Almighty God, a recognition of His cliiim upon our time, our thoughts, and the best energies of our minds. If our Prayers arc to have any significance in this latter view of them, if they are not merely to please ourselves by the indul- gence of pious sentiments, but to honor God, they must be offered systematically and methodically. We must pray when we rise up ; we must pray when we lie down ; we must join in the prayers of the congregation on Sundays and Holy Days. All tliis is conceded as re- gards Prayer ; but, as regards Almsgiving, how differ- ent is the view generally taken of this subject, and how miserably uncertain and precarious the practice which prevails ! Instead of recognizing a certain portion of their earnings or income as being due to Almighty God, and as being a sicrcd fund, which must be spent in the course of the year on works of Piety and Charity, the modem Christian abandons himself, for the most part, to the appeal^ which are made to him on behalf of Phil- anthropic objects, and helps those objects only where his sensibilities are stirred in their favor. Eis benefi- cence is not an organized work at all ; it is an occasional and irregular impulse. A Charity Sermon, which he happens to hear, awakens in him a kindly interest in 140 On Almsgiving. [part the institution advocated ; and lie gives, if lie has the money mth him ; if not, he determines to give ; bul often, in the pressure and hurry of the week's work, hi? ardor cools, and his resolution is forgotten. Then there are cases of distress personally known to him, which he relieves with more or less generosity according to the liveliness of the interest which he feels in them. But he has no idea, because he has never been at the pain? to make the reckoning, what proportion his alms bear to his resources ; he has never asked himself the ques- tion, or at least has never seriously prosecuted it to an answer : " Do they bear a fair proportion ; a proportion which satisfies ray own convictions of what is right 1 because, if they do not, I am quite determined they shall." Modem Almsgiving being thus, for the most part, the result of good impulse, rather than of principle, the system of things has adjusted itself to the sentiments of the majority. Money must be had for the various objects of benevolence ; and, as it is not to be had upon principle, it must be had by an appeal to our sensibili ties, or even by more questionable methods. Induce ments to give are held out by the showy and exagger- ated oratory of the pubHc meeting, by the gayety and little dissipation of the bazaar, or the luxury and social intercourse of the public dinner ; these being the baits by which money, may be caught even from those who never part with it from higher motives. The least ob- jectionable form in which these appeals are made is that of the Charity Sermon. A Charity Sermon, ac- cording to the accepted definition of it, means the pa- thetic exposition by a preacher of some object of be II.] On Almsgiving, 141 nevolcncc, designed to work upon the sensibilities of the hearers, and to draw from, them assistance in the way of money. If this ia done with simplicity, and without aiming at rhetorical effect, and if the special object is always subordinated to the great end of in- struction in Divine Truth (the sacred province of the Christian pulpit), the proceeding is quite unobjection- able, and may be productive of good. Nor, probably, in the present state of Christian sentiment, could any better method of raising funds for a good object be de- vised ? But even the Charity Sermon is not the theo- retically high and true way of obtaining supplies for a desirable object If the standard of Christian senti ment and practice were higher, if it at all resembled what it was in early days, before Christian zeal and love cooled dovm. Charity Sermons would be unnecessary. The Apostolic advice on the subject of Alms runs thus (and if every Christian would act on the principle of this adnce, all occasional appeals on behalf of good ob- jects would be superseded and extinguished) : " Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come ; " that is to say (extracting the spirit of the precept from its letter), " Periodically examine your earnings, and set apart a due and fair proportion of them for works of Piety and Charity. Let that proportion constitute a separate fund, and when objects of benevolence are brought before you, assist them out of that fund." The Primitive Church acted on the letter of this Apostolical precept ; and a 142 On Almsgiving. [part trace of their practice is still to be found in that part of the Office of the Holy Communion which is called the Offertory. In the course of the Liturgy (or Service of the Communion) offerings either of money, or of food and clothing, were made by all members of the congre- gation who did not lie under any Church censure. These offerings were afterward divided into four parts. The first part went to the relief of the poor ; the sec- ond to the maintenance of the Bishop ; the third part defrayed the expenses of the sacred fabric and its orna- ments ; the fourth was divided among the subordinate Clergy. Indeed, from a remarkable passage of St. Chrysostora, it would seem that the early Christians never entered the Church to pray without giving alms to the poor, some of whom were stationed at the Church door for the purpose. So deeply was the mind of our forefathers in the faith imbued with the connection be- tween Prayers and Alms ; so thoroughly were they in- oculated with the Scriptural view that acts of homage to God must go hand in hand with acts of love of man. Now, without asserting that exactly the same form of Almsgiving would suit the present altered state of things, without maintaining (as nevertheless many wise and good men do) that the Offertory and the alms-chest could even now be advantageously made the medium of giving all that is given for the Service of God, and the relief of the poor, we may surely say that the prin- ciple of these primitive offerings is as applicable as ever, and that, if it were conscientiously applied by ever?/ Christian, the result would be an abundance of means for every good object, which would quite supersede these occasional appeals. The principle is, to be sys- II. I On Almsgiving. 143 tematic, regular, and methodical in our Alms, instead of casual and impulsive. All that is necessary in order to this is a little time, a little trouble (very little of either), and perhaps, I sliould add, a little moral cour- age. Let us first settle with our own minds, as in the sight of God, what proportion of our income is duo to works of Piety and Charity. The proportion will vary much ; for it is clear that the same proportion will be much more severely felt when subtracted from a very narrow income, than when it is the mere exuberant "verflow of a very largo one. No one man can lay lown a rule for another in this respect ; the only point of importance is, that we would satisfy not the expecta- tions of others, but the requirements of an enlightened and a pure conscience in ourselves, or, in other words, the claims of God. The proportion having been set- tled, all that follows is more or less mechanical, and may be done with a very slight expenditure of time. A private account is opened, exhibiting on one side all our receipts, on the other every item of our charitable expenditure. Periodically the account is examined. If it should appear that the sum of our charitable ex- penditure comes up to the proportion we have deter- mined upon, well and good ; we have done our duty, and have the satisfaction of knowing that we have done it Should it exceed the proportion, the excess may be balanced (though I think it scarcely ever will be) by a retrenchment of charity in the succeeding period. But should it fall short of the proportion, it may be made a point of conscience at once to seal up the deficit, and send it oflf to the best Charitable Institution we know of. If every one would act thus — poor as well as rich— 144 On Almsgiving. [part and tlie poor are quite as mucli bound to give tlieir small proportion as the ricli tlieir large one — I believe tbat the resources of deserving Charities would never fail. It is because Charities are thrown upon impulse, instead of principle, for their supplies, and because im- pulse is so fitful and casual a thing, that the funds of most of them fall off" as soon as the enthusiasm which started them subsides. But benefits of a much higher kind would accrue from the exercise of systematic be- nevolence — benefits, whose sphere is the spirit and moral being of the giver. It contributes greatly to that peace of mind, which is so essential an element of spir- itual progress, to be assured that to the extent of our ability we are fulfilling our religious obligations. This assurance we can have respecting Almsgiving, only if we are giving on principle and methodically. And another happy effect of this methodical giving on the mind will be — that the very satisfactoriness of the pro- cess is likely to lead to a further advance in the same direction. He who has conscientiously given one-twen- tieth this year will feel urged to give a tenth the next. The appetite for Christian liberality will grow, when it is healthily indulged, instead of morbidly stimulated. And that wretched feeling that every fresh charitable appeal is an exaction, would wholly cease, when we know that a sum has been set apart for expenditure of this kind in one form or another ; and our gift would have that element of alacrity and forwardness essential to its acceptability ; it would be given in the spirit pre- scribed by the Apostle : " Let every man do according as he is disposed in his heart, not grudgingly, or of necessity ; for God loveth a cheerful giver." II. I On Almsgiving, 145 The whole of what has been said is an expansion ot, and reduces iUcIf to, the one idea, that Alms should be given on principle. Ahus and Prayers are coordinate exercises of Piety ; they are both of them oflcrings to (Jod ; and as, in the one case, we must bo careful not to rob God of the time and the mental effort, so, in the other, we must be equally careful not to rob liim of the gold and silver, which are Uis due. A portion of our time must be fenced round from the intrusion of worldly cares and secular business, if we are to discharge God's claims upon us. And on the same principle a portion of our substance must be regarded as a sacred treasury, not to be invaded by our own necessities, much less by our self-indulgence, and love of luxury. The offerings made to God out of this treasury — if made with faith in His Name — are represented in Holy Scripture as memorials of us in Heaven. How inspir- ing the thought that we may have such memorials — deeds which may serve (so to speak) to embalm our names, and keep them ever fresh and fragrant in that bright and cloudless realm I The believing and beauti- ful action of the woman in the Gospel who anointed Our Lord's head, as He sat at meat in Simon's house, was to be rewarded — ^has been rewarded — in a similar manner. Wheresoever the Gospel has been preached in the whole world, that woman's act of faith and piety has been rehearsed, commended, echoed on from the fathers to the children. A fame more glorious than hers, a memorial more rich in its results and conse- quences, as being a memorial not among men, but be- fore God, is open to all of us who hear the Gospel. Do yon desire that your name should be known in 7 146 On Frequenting the Holy Communion, [part Heaven — sliould be whispered and carried upward by the angels — should be graven on the heart of our great High Priest — should be mentioned by Him to God continually? Aspire to Heaven with devout prayers and sighs. Seek Christ with devout sympathies and devout succors, in the poor, whom He has constituted His representatives. Multiply acts of faith, and acts of love. And these acts shall keep alive the remembrance of you in the Heavenly Court, where no remembrance is without a requital. Cornelius was recompensed for his prayers and alms, by the visit of an Angel, by the visit of an Apostle, by the glad tidings of the Gospel, and, to crown all, by the gift of the Holy Ghost. How striking an instance of the large and munificent scale, on which God responds to the desires and efforts which His own free Grace has prompted — of His " giving more " (as is His wont) " than either we desire ©r de- serve ! " How wonderful a fulfilment of the promise made by Our Lord both to secret Alms and secret Prayers — " Thy Father, which seeth in secret, Himself shall reward thee openly ! " CHAPTER IX. ON FEEQUENTING THE HOLY COMMUNION. " Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God:'—! Cok. x. 31. It is curious to observe how religious ideas are con- tinually in a state of flux and change. Not only do n.] On Frequenting ike Holy Communion, 147 outward fashions alter, but habits of thought are diflercnt from what they onco wore. Controversies have shifted their ground ; and the theological com- batiuits have gone off to a different part of the field. Time was when many a controversial lance was broken in our Church on the question at issue bet\\een Calvinists and Arminians. The keen interest once taken in that debate has entirely collapsed ; and think- ing men on both sides would probably admit that there is much precious truth in both Calvinism and Armi- nianism, — which is only another form of saying that Holy Scripture makes statements which favour both. To pass from doctrines to practices (not that the two can ever be severed except in idea, for practice must ever bo based upon doctrine), there is now in progress a revolution in our habits of thought on the subject of frequently communicating. Serious Christians are coming round gradually, it is presumed by the force of conviction, to the habit of communicating much oftener than they used to do. More frequent oppor- tunities of receiving the holy Supper are given by tlio Clergy ; an index in itself of a changed state of thought and feeling on the subject ; for where there is no de- mand, there is usually no supply. And, accordingly, the old manuals of preparation for the Holy Commu- nion, excellent as several of them are, and containing, as many of them do, much valuable material for edifi- cation, are becoming, to a great extent, obsolete. They need to be thrown into a new form, adapted to a weekly or fortnightly recurrence of the Ordinance. For that the copious meditations and self-examinations, which most of them contain and recommend, should be gone through weekly, fortnightly, — nay, even monthly, —by persons engaged in the active business of life, is of 148 On frequenting the Holy Co7nmunio7i. [pari course out of the question, — a simple impossibility. A volume of preparatory devotions, (and several of these manuals are volumes,) implies that the Ordinance recurs but rarely, at great and solemn periods. Is the old method of rare Communion, or the new method of frequent Communion, the best ? We believe the new method to be so, because it is based upon a truer view of the Ordinance. The frequency or rarity of celebration would be in itself of comparatively little moment, if it were a mere outward fashion, if there were no principle involved in it. But a principle there is, underlying,' and giving rise to, the change of prac- tice ; and we rejoice to think that this principle is more freely and generally recognized than it has hitherto been. If the Eucharist were merely, as Zwingle most erroneously thought, a commemorative rite, — if the whole design of the Ordinance were to affect us with a picture of our Saviour's Passion, this design would doubtless be carried out more effectively by a rare than by a frequent Communion. For it is a law of the mind, from the operation of which we shall strive in vain to exempt ourselves, that the impression which is constantly repeated gradually loses its force. But the Lord's Supper is not merely a commemoration, but an actual channel or vehicle of Grace to the soul. It stands on the same footing in tliis respect with Prayer, reading of Scripture, public worship, and sermons ; only we be- lieve that it takes precedence of them all, as the instru- ment of a higher Grate, and a means of a closer commu- nion with God. Observe that by the Word of God itself, the Eucharist is placed in the same category with the other means of Grace, and that it seems to be intimated that the early Christians were equally frequent in the n.] On Frequenting the Ilolif Comm^in ion. MO observance of all of them. " And thcyN^or^^mued sted-' fast in the Apostles* doctrine and fcllowshtp^iHhcycon- stantly attended the teaching of the Apostlcs/Itnd did not forsake the assembling of themselves together with them in the name of Christ), " and in breaking of breadj and in prayers** There is no hint hero that the doctrine and the prayers were to be of frequent recur- rencc, but the breaking of Bread to be reserved, as I may say, for state occasions. If all are moans of Grace, and if the ** breaking of Bread," as being the distinctly Christian Ordinance, — yea, as communicating to the soul, not indeed by a carnal transubstantiation, but "after an heavenly and spiritual manner," the very Body and Blood of our crucified Redeemer, — is the highest means of Grace, why should not all recur with equal frequency ? Do wo allege that the liveliness of our feelings respecting the Lord's Supper will wear off with the frequent repetition of it 1 Nay ; but it is not liveliness of feeling which in any Ordinance we should seek, but the strengthening of principle. The two ob- jects are quite distinct. Feeling occasionally runs very high, when principle is at its lowest ebb. Church his- tory supplies instances in abundance of spiritual ecsta- sies (mere Satanic delusions, of course), where there was no real submission of the will to God. And on the other hand, principle may be in its full strength, and faith may bo really clinging to God with all the force of moral determination, while feeling seems to have ebbed away altogether out of the soul. Thus Our I^rd cries out upon the cross that God has forsaken Him, while He is really tightening His hold upon the Father, and indicating this firmness of grasp by the little word expressive of so much clinging, "My,**— " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken met " 150 0)1 Freque7iting the Holy Co7nmu7iion. [paet If superficial liveliness of feeling were what we ought to seek in the Ordinances of religion, there could be no question that too frequent repetition in any of them would be a mistake, calculated to counteract their influence. If for the next two years we shut up our Bibles, and thus divested our minds in some measure of their glib familiarity with the phraseology of Scrip- ture, and at the end of the period op'ened them at one of the more pathetic or sublime passages, that passage would stir in our minds a far more vivid, emotion, than Scripture ever communicates under our preseat circum- stances. At the first outbreak of the Reformation, when the Sacred Volume was scarce, and the* people sunk in gross ignorance of its truths, men had a much keener appreciation of it, a much livelier feeling of its preciousnessthan now, when it lies on the shelf of every cottage, and its comparatively fresh-looking binding shows the neglect in w^hich spiritual blessings are held, as i^oon as they have become cheap, and easy of access. But in order that we might again have those vivid im- pressions respecting God's truth which men had in those old days, when they gathered round the chained Bible in the parish church, and appointed one of their party to read it aloud to them, it would be a strange method of proceeding, and one based on a false logic, to unlearn as much of this blessed Book as we possibly could, in the hope of thus coming fresh to the perusal of it. Then why is not the same reasoning, which holds good in the case of the Holy Scriptures, to be applicable to other means of Grace ? If all we sought in the Eu- charist w^ere a certain natural sensibility to the Death of Christ, which Death the Ordinance is appointed to show forth, then indeed might we go once a year only, like the Scottish peasants, over hill and dale, n.] On Frequenting the Holy Communion, 151 to partake of the Heavenly Banquet: — then indeed might we enjoy the artlcssness with which the rite is there celebrated, as being a nearer approach to the original institution in ike wat/ of jncture. But I seek much more in the Eucharist than to look at a picture and be touched by it. I seek to be fed in tliat holy Ordinance; to be spiritually nourished, through the clcmcjits of Bread and AVine, with that Flesh whicli is meat indeed, and that Blood which is drink indeed. And if the things of the body furnish any sufficient analogy to the things of the soul, I should fear that the receiving this Heavenly Food only once a year would be something very much resembling spiritual starvation. Yet, argue as we may, our arguments will go for nothing against instinct. And in devout minds which have been reared under the old system of things, there is an instinct adverse to very frequent Communions, Vhich it is difficult, if not impossible, to supplant. Wo believe that in this instinct there is an element of rea- son and reverence, however false may be the conclusions to which it leads ; and that at all events our forefathers had hold of a truth, for which it behoves us to find some place in the modern system. Let us endeavor to analyse the feeling of reluctance which many good persons still entertain to a frequent (say a weekly) Communion. Unquestionably, reverence towards the Ordinance has some share in engendering the reluctance. It is felt, and very justly felt, that in order to make so fre- quent a Communion of real value to us, there must be a general correspondence between the Ordinance and our lives. There is something dreadful in the thought of so high an Ordinance degenerating into formality ; 152 On Frequenting the Holy Communion, [paki and degenerate into formality it must, unless, contem- poraneously with this frequent celebration, there should be a general raising of the tone of the recipient's char- acter and conduct. This is all true, just, and sound, — right in feeling ; right in principle. But why should wc implicitly reject the other branch of the alter- native ? Why is there not to be a general raising of the tone of our character and conduct? Why should we resolve to acquiesce in respectability, and virtually decline to aim at sanctity ? Ah, sluggish will, thou art in fault ! Frequent Communions demand higher aspirations ; and higher aspirations involve stronger ef- forts and harder struggles. And these efforts and struggles are a tax upon the will, which the will per- haps is not quite ready to pay. Is this the secret cause of our reluctance? I believe it is frequently one cause. For if a man be honestly bent, not merely on reaching a very fair average standard of excellence, but on " perfecting holiness in the fear of the Lord," the reluctance very soon vanishes. Fre- quent Communion is then willingly embraced as a help, not declined out of a false homage to the Ordinance. But what, it may be asked, constitutes conformity of life to the. Ordinance of the Holy Communion ? What is that habitual state, the living in which (more or less) establishes that correspondence between us and the Ordinance, which makes a very frequent reception available ? Let the text which stands at the head of this Chapter furnish us with an answer to this question. It is a great mystery, which teaches us many valu- able lessons, that God has consecrated our reception of food into the highest Ordinance of religion. What may this circumstance be designed to teach us? The li.] On Frequenting Uie Holy Communion, 153 lesson expressly stated in the text, " Whether there- fore ye cat, or drink, or whatsoever yo do, do all to the glory of God." The reception of food is a common action, — homely, trivial, having nothing dignified or sublime about it, as is intimated by the words, " what- soever ye do," following upon the specification of it, — ** Whether therefore yo cat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." And again, the re- ception of food is a necessary action, — it is what we must do, in order to maintain our lives. Tlic implica- tion of the text, then, is that in our common and trivial actions, even in those which are bound upon us by necessity, and which wo cannot any how escape from doing, — there is room and scope for glorifying Almighty God. On the one hand, we may do them mechanically and in a spirit of routine, or from the low motive of the pleasure which is to be had from them, or from the wrong motive of human praise. Or, on the other hand, wo may do them, or strive to do them, in a religious spirit, fixing the eye of the mind, while we do them, on the gfeat end of God's Service and Kingdom. In one word, we may either go through common life in a common way, tying up our religion to Public Worship on Sundays, and private prayer on week-days, or we may go through common life with an uncommon motive, — the thought of God, and the desire of pleasing and serving Him in all things. Now if a man should be going through common life thus, — if he sanctifies and elevates it, or even strives, as much as ho can, to sanctify and elevate it, by importing into it a Christian motive, there is between him and the Holy Communion a certain correspondence, which is easily perceived. What were the materials out of which Christ framed the highest rite of His holy Religioff? Did Ho pre- scribe a costly sacrifice, such as it would be a tax upon 154 On Frequenting the Holy Commu7iion, [pakt human resources to furnish ? No such thing. He blessed a common meal, and consecrated it into a Sacrament, and made it the means, by a marvellous mystery of Grace, of communicating Himself to man's soul. What did He mean by so doing 1 Many things of grave import, some things, possibly, beyond our reach ; but this most assuredly, — that the genius of His Religion, as expressed in its highest Ordinance, is to sanctify all the actions of human life, even down to the humblest and most necessary. To do this is, if I may so say, to breathe the atmosphere of the Holy Communion, and to have such a congeniality with it, as shall never make it match ill or show unsuitably upon the general groundwork of our lives. Reader, are you and I striving thus to sanctify, — not only holy seasons and holy exercises, — but all the common actions of daily life? Then shall we feel attracted towards a frequent reception of the Holy Communion, as one great means of furthering our object. But in the feeling of reluctance to frequent Com- munion, there is one decidedly good element, which we must not pass over without notice. Persons think it beneficial to have certain solemn and stated periods, at which they may look into the affairs of their souls more narrowly, wind up their spiritual accounts more at leisure, and make a fresh start, as it were, upon their Christian course. These periods have been with them hitherto their Communions ; each of which has thus become a sort of era in their inner life. But, if they are now to communicate every week or every fortnight, this solemn scrutiny and preparation, if it be not an actual impossibility, will become an unreality. Special devotional exercises are good at special seasons, but the naind cannot profitably be under such a strain every 11 J On FrtquetUing the Holy Communion week or every fortnight. Sundays are great helps to a holy life ; but only one day in every seven is appointed to bo a Sunday. In all this there is great force and reason. And ho who is minded to live the Devout Life must on no account abandon the excellent practice of periodically examining his conscience on every department of duty, and seeking from God in prayer, and retirement from the world, that fresh spring of holy energy which is to bo found for all of us in the Blood and Grace of Jesus Christ. But why must this necessarily be done before every Communion ? Why might it not be done only before the three great Communions of Christm;is, Easter, and Whit-Sunday ? Or if even this be found impracticable, as with persons heavily engaged will very likely be the case, why should not these special devo- tions be limited to one Communion in the year, that of Christmas or that of Easter ? Assuredly, a thorough and sifting Self-examination, once satisfactorily per- formed, is better than three or four cursory inspections of the conscience; Self-examination being a matter in which to be cursory and superficial is usually to deceive oneself. Then for ordinary Communions, assuming, of course, — and I am assuming all through, — that the conscience is kept clear of wilful sin — our usual evening retrospect of the day, with some very trifling addition to our evening prayer on Friday and Saturday, the eighty fourth Psalm, for example, and the prayer of access in the Communion Oflice, " We do not presume to come to this Thy Table," &c., would abundantly suffice. Have we now reached and met in any mind the objections which are felt to a frequent Communion 1 Or does there remain still a lurl