DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive i in 2015 https://archive.org/details/sermons01elli SERMONS BY THE RIGHT REVEREND STEPHEN ELLIOTT, D.D., LATE BISHOP OF GEORGIA. WITH % Memoir, BY THOMAS M. HANCKEL, Esq. NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY POTT AND AMERY. 1867. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by Mrs. Charlotte B. Elliott, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. cf 1 S o t The Right Reverend Stephen Elliott, for more than twenty- five years Bishop of the Diocese of Georgia, and whom God has recentlv called to his rest, was born in the town of Beaufort in the Estate of .SWA Carolina, on the 31st of August, 1806. He was the oldest son of Stephen Elliott of South Carolina, who was known in that day as a scholar, an eloquent writer, and an en- thusiastic student of science, especially of the beautiful science of Botany ; and whose name and character are among the grateful traditions of the society in which he lived. His mother was Esther Habersham of Georgia ; and his family have always maintained close and affectionate relations with that great State. He himself claimed that he belonged to both States. Especially after he was called to preside over the Diocese of Georgia, with that gracious wisdom which was eminently characteristic of the man, it was his habit freely and heartily to declare that he was a true son of Georgia, and that he was ready to serve her with the love of a grateful child, as well as with the zeal of a faithful Bishop. When his father removed to Charleston in 1812, young Stephen Elliott came with him, and was prepared for College at the school of Mr. Hurlburt, at that time a distinguished and successful teacher in that city. In the Fall of 1822, he went to Harvard College, and entered the Sophomore Class in that Institution. He remained at Harvard until the Fall of 1823, when, at the desire of his father, who wished him to graduate in his native State, he took an ad eundem to the South Carolina College, and in November of that year was there admitted to the Junior Class. Among his classmates was the late Hon. James H. Hammond, afterwards widely known as Governor of South Carolina, a gifted writer, and an eloquent debater upon the floor of the Senate of the United States. Another was the late Hon. Thomas I. Withers, who became a distinguished jurist, and one of the ablest and most learned judges of the Supreme Court of South Carolina. He graduated in 1825, with the third honor of his class. Upon his 166609 iv Memoir. graduation he studied law in the office of the laroeuted Jarnes L. Petigru, the foremost lawyer of h?s day, who was the intimate friend of his father, and for whom he retained through life a most affectionate reverence and regard. He was called to the bar in 1827. It was at this period of his life that the great political questions of State Sovereignty and Free Trade arose, and shook the country by the weight and magnitude of the argument. Subsequent events have given grave importance to the opin ons he then formed on this agitating subject. Our reader-* would be unable to understand or appreciate a most eventful portion 'is life and a well-known phase of his character, if we were to pass over fn-^ early imp*""- sions. The ardent and talented young scholar and lawyer took a keen and active interest, in the momentous issues of that high debate. Upon clear conviction, he was a States' Rights man in the highest and best meaning of those words, and was through life the warm and unwavering supporter of that school of political doc- trine. He believed in the simple scory of the Sovereignty of the States of the Federal Union as he read it in every child's history of the early settlement of the Colonies, and the later independence of the States. He believed that this Sovereignty was the true and almost the only conservative element of the Constitution, and the only effective check upon the usurpations of the central Govern- ment, when the latter should be controlled by the selfish interests of classes, the mad passions of party, or the wild delusions of the populace ; — that conservative element which alone made a free and magnificent republic possible. He believed that the liberty of the States was the Heaven-given shield of the liberties of the peoples ; — that the freedom of the Union was the real strength and perfect health of the Union. He loved his own State very dearly, and he believed that an honest, genuine and practical love of the country, was best felt and expressed in a just and generous love of the State. Some will call this weak, will call it narrow ; but let us consider if it is not that weakness and narrowness of Nature itself, which is stronger and broader than the fictions of men, which is deeper than the creed of the philosopher and wiser than the calculations of the statesman. It is the sacred and un- changeable love of the child for his home, and, through his home, for his father-land. But let us not wrangle over his bier to pass judgment on these opinions. There is enough else that all can admire, and honor, and love. It were well, however, for Christian people to remember, that these opinions have been held by men Memoir. v who have served the whole country with unquestioned devotion and illustrious success, and of whom history must speak with un- qualified honor. It would be wise, it would be happy, for the country to respect at least the honesty and earnestness of their convictions and their self-sacrificing devotion to what they believed to be truth. It was at this time also, that, as a junior colleague and one of the younger friends and companions of the gifted Hugh S. Legare, he shared in the fortunes of the renowned old " Southern Quarterly Review," and the brilliant literature it illustrated. His father had founded this Review, and he worked enthusiastically for its success. He was probably too young at the time to have contrib- uted many articles : it is known, however, that he wrote, and wrote well, for its pages, and helped to make it what it was. In after years he always spoke with pride and enthusiasm of the power and brilliant though brief career of that famous journal, as a noble monument of the scholarship of his native State at that day. He practised law in Charleston for several years, when, upon the retirement of a distinguished practitioner from the Bar of Beau- fort, he removed to the latter place to succeed to his office and business. His return to his birthplace was a happy hour for him. He dearly loved the old place and its people. He loved the bright waters and the broad bays of the country round ; and through life it was the delight of the stately Bishop to come back among those scenes from time to time, and, wandering along the neighboring sea- shore, breathe again the boisterous breath of the Atlantic, while he gathered with the keen zest of no mean naturalist the beautiful shells and the curious things which the seething surf brought to his feet: nothing loath, either, to join with eager energy in the bold and stirring sports of the sturdy young boatmen around him. He came back to Beaufort to practice law, but a different destiny awaited him there. At this time, not long after the period when the Church of England had roused itself from its lethargy to a deeper and quicker sense of its high mission and duty, and the teachers of a more active and energetic faith had become a power in the Church, and when the eloquent energies of Chalm- ers had begun to wake the Church of Scotland also from the deep slumber of the " Moderates," the truths of religion known as evangelical were preached with unusual fervency, power and effect in the ancient and secluded town of Beaufort. Aside from the mysterious breathings of the Divine Spirit, as accepted by many, it was a community peculiarly open to impressions from such a vi Memoir, source. Thoroughly educated, cultivated and refined ; isolated from the turmoil of life and from the tide of the world ; bred to a high, self-reliant and unflinching sense of duty and a generous de- votion to truth : the solemnity and pathos, the overwhelming obli- gation, the supreme necessity and the self-sacrificing spirit of the doctrines then preached, appealed with irresistible power to its people. Among a somewhat remarkable group of young men, not un- known, who, at that time, made open profession of their faith and high resolve, and have since truly kept the word and honor they then pledged, was the gifted, accomplished and graceful young ad- vocate who had recently come back to his early home. Not many days later he turned away from the allurements of pleasure, and the hopes, honors and emoluments of public and professional life, to enroll himself as a teacher of the truths he believed, and a Min- ister at the Altars of the Church in which he worshipped. Early in the year 1833 he became a Candidate for the Ministry of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and entered with character- istic ardor upon the work of preparation for the duties of the sacred office. He threw himself into his new studies with all the devotion of a most earnest Christian, the vigor of a profound thinker, and the high aims and disciplined tastes of a scholar. To save the souls of sinful men he esteemed the greatest and noblest work that could engage the energies of earnest men, — the most necessary work, indeed, demanded of man by the piteous wants of his race. To teach the truth and preach the Gospel of God's grace and Christ's Atonement, he believed to be the ordained and most effectual means of saving men and reforming the world. His work of preparation for his duties, therefore, was honest, thorough, varied, and unsparing, as knowing that the teacher and defender of the Truth must win power over strong men. He was ordained a Deacon by the Right Reverend Nathaniel Bowen, Bishop of the Diocese of South Carolina, at Charleston in that State, in the Fall of 1835. He officiated as minister in charge of the Parish of Wilton, South Carolina, for one month, when he was elected by the Trustees of the South Carolina College to the chair of Sacred Liter- ature and the Evidences of Christianity in that Institution, to which also the Chaplaincy of the College was attached. He was ordained Priest in the year 1836. Thus early was he called to high offices. And perhaps the reader who never saw him will follow us more fully and easily in what we have further to say, if we here endeavor to describe the Memoir. vii very striking form and presence of the late Bishop. Long of limb and tall of stature, with a full and vigorous frame, thoroughly yet easily erect, with full high brow, finely chiselled features and lofty crest ; with a soft, beaming blue eye, and a complexion fair and fresh, without being ruddy ; exquisitely graceful in his carriage, and quiet and easy in his movement, with his thin dark hair float- ing lightly around and from his head : his was a figure, as he passed along the crowded thoroughfare, upon which men turned to gaze, and the eyes of women rested with tenderness and venera- tion. His presence, though graceful, was eminently dignified and com- manding. It quietly expressed a very sensitive deference for the opinions and feelings of others, ready to hear and quick to appre- ciate : yet a full and steady reliance on himself. It is told of him that once, at a country tavern where he had stopped for the night, a poor inebriate was recklessly bantering the bystanders, when his attention was arrested by the appearance of the stately Bishop, and awed and sobered for the moment by his commanding look and towering form, he turned to him and exclaimed, " And who are you? Are you a Judge? or a Member of Congress? or Governor of the State ? Well, if you ain't any of these, you ought to be ! " That which was felt by this poor fellow has been felt by the highest and wisest and best in the land in the same presence. Often have we watched that tall and graceful figure come swinging along the College grounds in company with grave professor or cheerful student, in serious talk, or with his rich, soft, hearty laugh ringing out at some merry jest, and been conscious that a living grace was added to the picturesque scene within the bounds of the venerable school. It must be left to his biographer to speak fully of his career as a Professor, and of the manner in which he performed the duties of his Chair. But we can say that each and every one of those whose names stand upon the roll of the proud old College in those bright days, as well as all others who watched and cherished its progress at that time, learned to love, admire, honor, and revere him there. He was the pillar, the pride and the ornament of the College. It was his Alma Mater, and he took the deepest interest in its wel- fare. Its students formed the congregation to whom he preached the Gospel, and over whose expanding thoughts and hearts he watched and prayed. He yearned to make it a school of high learning, a rich source of truth and refinement, and the centre of a generous intellectual citizenship to the State. " Will you let viii Memoir, other States breed your scholars ? " exclaimed he, on one occasion to one of the classes, " and will you be content to be hewers of wood and drawers of water to them ? " In his own person he showed them how high and gracious and precious a thing was the pure gift of learning and the culture of letters, the charm and the power of the scholar. In the lecture room his clear and vigorous analysis, and his rich, polished, and often passionate words, taught them how to think, and how to utter their thoughts. His hopeful voice cheered everybody. And he here exhibited a marked char- acteristic of his whole life. He deeply and gladly sympathized with every aspiration after a higher culture, however humble. He encouraged each to do his best, although that best might be but little. To him the aspiration itself was a grace, the effort itself was elevating. To him there was every imaginable difference be- tween the high aims of even the weak, and the dull recklessness of aimless strength. Among the best scholars in the College, there came at that time from the rural districts many uncouth and awkward youths. No man had a keener sense of the humorous than our lamented Bishop, the then Professor, or found it harder to keep from laughing when moved by mirth. It was not in na- ture, therefore, for him not to laugh heartily sometimes, at these queer fellows. But while he laughed, he loved them. The very grotesqueness of their simple and earnest strength seemed to charm him. It was like the joy of a mother in the babbling blun- ders of her brightest child. It was beautiful to see how tenderly he protected them, how hopefully he guided them, how quickly he felt the weight and caught the gleam of the pure gold in the rugged ore. We here recall an incident which illustrates the ex- quisite tact and kindness with which he cheered and guided his scholars. A young student, little more than a boy in years, but among the foremost in his class, was standing his first examination in mathematics before the assembled members of the Faculty. He was nervous and excited, and as he answered the questions which were propounded to him, he kept snapping and wasting the piece of chalk which he held in his hand, until there was but a scrap left, with which to write his figures and draw his diagrams. Pro- fessor Elliott was watching his examination with curious and pleased interest, when he saw the predicament in which he was placed. Rising quietly from his seat, he strolled down the room, picked up a handful of chalk, which could neither be broken or wasted, and with a droll and inimitable grace, handed it to the ex- cited youth. A smile, a grateful look, a "Thank you, sir," in reply, Memoir. ix and the frightened probationer was at his ease before his exam- iners, and passed triumphantly through the ordeal, without any more faltering, or again scratching his nails on the blackboard. It was but a little thing to do ; but it was kindly and wisely done, and shows us, in miniature, the gracious arts, the gentle wisdom, and the practical sagacity, with which afterwards, as a Bishop, he governed his Diocese, and by which he won the confidence and af- fection of all portions of his State, all denominations of Christians, and all classes of men. He dearly loved books ; to be among them, and to handle them. He was a connoisseur in print and paper and binding. He took an eager and active interest in the new library building, the foundation of which was laid under his auspices. He sedulously watched and pushed forward its construction. And when it was finished and all was ready, carefully were the books carried under his eye from the old room where they had stood so long, to a fitter resting-place. Right gladly he called his pupils around him to help him to receive and arrange them. When the great boxes which contained the recent importations of the best and richest English editions of the best and greatest authors — brought there by the prodigal bounty of the State to her favorite Institution — were opened, his enthusiasm broke forth, and he dwelt with all a scholar's delight upon their beauty and value. And when all the work of arrangement was nearly done, he turned to the group around him and said, in his own rich tender tones: "Now, young gentlemen, I will expect in after years, each one of you who can afford it, to bring some work of art, some statue, bust or picture to adorn these alcoves." It was thus he taught the young novices of his school to love books, and art, and letters, and learning. We turn sadly away to think how many proud hopes and glad anticipa- tions, which then swelled in his generous heart, have been crushed and buried under the red floods of war, in ruin, grief, desolation and blood. But it was for a comparatively brief period that he was permitted to fill the Professor's chair. The Church at whose Altar he served, and to whose Ministry he had been ordained, summoned him to her work. She called him to a higher and larger sphere of useful- ness. He obeyed without a question. In the summer of -1840, he was elected the first Bishop of Georgia. In December of the same year, not without some natural regrets, he took leave of the College which he had loved and served so well, and early in 1841 he was consecrated to his Bishopric at Christ Church, Savannah, by Bishops Meade, Ives, and Gadsden. 21 Memoir. The limits of this Memoir will not permit us to speak fully of the manner in which the duties of his holy office were discharged. The task of organizing and building up a new Diocese was a try- ing one. We know that his Dicoese loved him sincerely, and was heartily proud of him. It has recently declared its sense of bereave- ment at his death, " as too deep to find expression in the common terms of grief and mourning ; " and that they " desire to place on record their high appreciation of his remarkable qualifications for the Episcopal office, exercised for more than twenty-five years ; his profound acquaintance with human and divine learning ; his pre- eminent power as a preacher of the Gospel of the grace of God ; his keen insight into the motives and instincts of men ; his tact and ability in administering his Diocese ; his watchfulness and ten- der sympathy for all the flock committed to his care ; his interest in the welfare of our colored population ; his careful avoidance of party issues and all extremes in doctrine, discipline and worship ; and his cautious endeavors to pursue the quiet, conservative paths trodden by the wisest and most honored Fathers of the American Church." As a pulpit orator, without aiming to be subtle or metaphysi- cally profound, he was clear, vigorous, eloquent, and often strik- ingly original in the defence and illustration of accepted truth. His style was passionate as well as exceedingly pure and graceful. He had rather the rich, massive and commanding manner of Mil- ton, South, and Jeremy Taylor, than that of the polished wits and piquant essayists of Queen Anne's reign ; with some touch, also, of the quaintness of those earlier worthies. To his students he always commended the first as the better models. It was in the earlier days of his Episcopal administration that he sacrificed his private fortune, and reduced himself to poverty and want, in his uncalculating efforts to establish an eminent school for female education at Montpelier, in the centre of his Diocese. No man had a higher estimate of the blessings of a healthy and thorough education. His zeal in this work rose to enthusiasm. He therefore established this school at Montpelier, for the instruction of the young women of his Diocese in that learning and those accomplishments which, according to his con- ception of her character and duties, a Christian woman, whose station in life permitted it, ought to know and acquire. Large sums had to be expended in the erection of suitable buildings and the necessary outfit of the Institution. It was his ardent wish that every thing should be thoroughly done. When the funds at his Memoir, xi disposal were exhausted, he unhesitatingly pledged his private property and credit for the completion of the undertaking. His obligations were all faithfully met. and the debts he incurred were all paid. But it left him without a dollar ; and he had scarcely the means of providing the daily bread of his family. He had been accustomed from early youth to the refinement, independence and dignity of an ample fortune. He had never known what it was to owe what he could not punctually pay. The cares, anxieties and heavy burdens therefore of this period of his life were keenly felt, and his spirit was deeply wounded. But he met them all with the firmness, patience, gentleness, and humility of one who had counted the cost of his holy service. Dp to this time he had received but a comparatively small salary as Bishop, and this had been chiefly expended for Church objects and for charitable pur- poses. The people of his Diocese now came forward affectionately and generously to his aid. and provided an adequate income for his support. It was well done, and was gratefully received. We spoke only the simple truth when we said that his people loved and honored him. At a later period, in the same spirit of generous and untiring devotion to the cause of education, together with the heroic Bishop of Louisiana and the gentle and eloquent Bishop of Tennessee. — and when these three stately men stood together it was a group for the painter's pencil. — he projected and labored earnestly to lay the foundation of a great Southern University, which he trusted would one day become a beneficent centre of learning and letters to our Southern land. And this he did in no spirit of narrow preju- dice against other sections or other seats of learning. As we have said before, he did indeed dearly love the South. He cherished and honored her traditional spirit of social order and conservative republican liberty. He believed that there was much that was peculiar and valuable in the life, society, character, traditions and history of her people that ought to be fostered and sheltered. But. besides this, he was also firmly persuaded, that even as re- gards the development of a national life embracing all sections and latitudes of the Union, a better, healthier and nobler national life and character would be developed by the establishment of many centres of wealth, power, education and influence, than could be produced under a system by which whole territories — equal each of them in extent to great European kingdoms — should be overshadowed, provincialized, and materially, morally and intellec- tually enfeebled and impoverished, by an abject dependence on one xii Memoir. stupendous, turbulent and despotic centre of commerce, arts, manu- factures, publication, science, literature, learning and government. It was in this faith that he labored so earnestly for the establish- ment of a great Southern school as a balance of power in the country. The work was begun. But the fair prospects of the splendid enterprise were blighted by the opening of that tremendous strug- gle for the political independence of the Southern States — their society, institutions, civilization, constitutional law, and traditional policy — which was to agitate and overshadow the closing scenes of his life. In this struggle, holding the views of public law and pol- icy which he did, trained in the political school to which we have referred, it was not difficult to see where Bishop Elliott would stand. But the story is too sad to dwell upon. He shared in the labors of a thousand other heroes who suffered, or bled, or died, all in vain. He placed his Church by the side of the State. He cheered and comforted his suffering, bleeding, fainting people with words of the deepest pathos and tenderness. He sent his sons to the battle, with his pure kiss on their brows and a father's blessing in their hearts. And when all was over — and all in vain — and the cause was lost, he bowed his head without a murmur to the will of his God, and turned to the new duties which lay before him with the hope and energy of an unflinching faith, and the calm dignity of an unconquered heart. In looking back at the life of Bishop Elliott, there are one or two points of his character upon which it will be grateful to touch. ' In Church and State he was eminently conservative. He dearly loved that which was old as well as excellent — the truth and the practice that is taught by ancient precedent, and established by ancient custom. But so ardent a temper, and a nature so sensi- tive, aesthetic and enthusiastic, could not but sympathize with all honest and genuine progress. In matters of religious faith he rested in Revelation, believing that a Creed was perfect at the time it was revealed. In questions of public liberty he rested immov- ably in great principles. But in other matters of Church and State he clung to the ancient landmarks of history, rather as tests by which to measure the truth and the earnestness of the new and progressive, than as impassable barriers to change. And in the fields of science, and commercial and material progress, he was full of enterprise and enthusiasm, and passionately anxious that his fair Southern land should press forward with unflagging stride in the great march of modern civilization. Memoir. xiii His. too, was an exceedingly happy temper. " The lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places." were words which not unfre- quently dropped from him in confidential intercourse. It was this buoyant, happy nature which so often brought the healing of life to the sad and wounded spirits of his people. Doubtless there was in this a deeper, ghostly joy in his holy office, on which we dwell reverently ; but there was also, we can see, a human and exulting gladness in the vigorous exercise of his intellectual gifts, and in the beneficent use of the graceful power which he wielded. In harmony with this conservative yet aspiring nature, this stead- fast yet progressive spirit, this faithful yet happy temper, this love of the true combined with an enthusiastic appreciation of the beautiful, was the grace, dignity, justice, and kindness of his per- sonal and official intercourse with his colleagues on the Bench of Bishops. They will gladly and affectionately bear witness, that he was courteous and generous in debate ; that he was too well aware of the imperfection of human language in the expression of spirit- ual ideas, too profoundly conscious of the mystery of religious thought, and yet too clearly convinced of the essential harmony of -a Scriptural faith, to be indignant at formulas which were not alto- gether like his own, or alarmed at methods of argument which, while they embraced the whole circle of Heavenly truth, might begin and end at a part of its circumference different from his own stand-point ; that he was too earnestly devoted to fundamental truth to be vindictive towards error that was less than heresy ; that his was too great a heart and too noble a nature to suffer him to be the adherent of a clique, or the follower of a party ; that in his judicial acts, he was fair, wise, gentle, clear in his knowledge of law and his perceptions of right, and utterly scornful of a shade of selfishness or malice ; and that in counsel he was a peace- maker among his brethren, and a bond of union amidst discordant opinions and conflicting policies. The heart of many a venerable prelate has been made sad by the thought that they shall see his face no more. Such is a brief outline of the life and the nurture, culture and graces, of the distinguished Bishop for whom Georgia mourns. In contemplating his character, we feel that he was the repre- sentative of much that is highest and best in Southern society ; and we rejoice that so much at least of Southern history is safe beyond danger or question. Such a life and character ought to be the full and sufficient answer to those who believe or declare, xiv Memoir, that the traditional institution which has heretofore existed in the South, and which has been made the occasion of so much grief and agony to the country, was of necessity degrading to all classes and conditions of its people. If we turn to the higher forms of a cultivated social life and a beneficent civilization, and look at the representative men of the South, the country may well remember and rejoice, that nothing can strike from their history the life and the labors, the name and the fame, of Georgia's great Bishop, and men like him. If we consider on the other hand the results to the African race, of the institution under which they lived, as it was practically administered, even here, — whatever may be our ab- stract opinions as to its policy or our moral judgments as to its justice, — all right-minded and candid men who know the facts, will admit that, under the providence of God, the negro has been greatly benefited, his best qualities have been developed, and the whole race has been greatly elevated. Whether that institution was righteous or not, it has been mercifully administered. The South received from the coast of Africa about one million of degraded savages ; and under its generous and wholesome discipline, they grew to be four millions of skillful, thrifty, cheerful and industrious laborers, a larger number of civilized and christianized people than have ever been directly reclaimed from the barbarian heathen, since the early days of Christianity : — not wholly contented with their lot, it may be, but as contented, perhaps, as the poor of any country are contented with their poverty. The South received them, a debased, brutish and repulsive people, to whom chastity was an unknown virtue and a strange idea, and honesty was the fear of punishment or the want of opportunity ; whose notion of public justice was the trial by poison ; whose native tongue was a barbarous gibberish ; who trusted in fetishes, believed in greegrees, and alone of human kind worshipped the Evil Spirit. These are the people whom their Southern rulers, by their mingled kindness and discipline, by their justice and their gentleness, have made such a people as to call forth the extravagant eulogies of those who now have charge of their welfare, and who now claim for them the full rights and the highest privileges of the proudest and most enlightened American citizen. It is not our office nor is this the place, to say whether these eulogies are wholly merited, or these claims well founded. But what these people are, all men can see; and such as they are, no man will deny that the South, under God's providence, has made them. No other portion of the world has contributed a man or a dollar to the work ; while eminent Memoir, xv scholars of the South like our gifted Bishop, as masters and teach- ers, have been conspicuous laborers in the merciful though humble task. He was earnestly devoted to the duty of preaching the Gos- pel to the negroes of his Diocese. He summoned his whole people to the work, as the great mission to which they were called, the special field of Christian labor to which they were dedicated. Some of his most eloquent and impassioned addresses were de- voted to this theme. He spoke often and plainly, earnestly and solemnly, on the subject. He held his people to a strict responsi- bility for the spiritual and eternal, as well as the physical and tem- poral, welfare of those over whom they ruled. He sent missiona- ries and established missions among the negroes wherever he could. He led the way by his personal labors. He founded S. Stephen's Church for colored people in the city of Savannah. He placed its secular affairs under the charge of a colored vestry. They looked up to him as their firmest, wisest, and noblest friend. At his burial they gave a touching and beautiful evidence of the love and reverence they bore him. The colored vestry of S. Stephen's asked to have the honor of carrying him to the grave ; and it was granted to them. It did honor to them, and to their Bishop. Considering the peculiar and momentous issues of the time, we think it was the grandest and most instructive spectacle, amidst all the solemn, mournful, and agitating ceremonies of that day, on which the city of Savannah was hushed to listen to the footfalls of those who thus bore their Bishop to the tomb. We have paused to speak of this feature of Bishop Elliott's character, because no readers of the following pages will be able to forget that he was a Southern slaveholder, and a representative of Southern society. The sinfulness or the righteousness of African slavery, its evils or its wisdom, are no longer practical questions. Under the Providence of God, the institution itself has been de- cisively and forever ended. The questions pertaining to it belong to the issues of the past, to be reviewed only at the judgment-seat of God, and before the tribunal of History. But the real charac- ter of Southern, society and Southern men is indeed at this time a most practical question. It is of momentous import that the country should see it as it is, and judge of it with wisdom and with justice. Since the close of the fearful struggle which has shaken the very foundations of American society, the people of the South have ex- hibited a kindly sympathy with their former dependents, an intelli- gent submission to necessity, an obedience to law and a regard for xvi Memoir. social order, combined with a firm self-respect, which have merited, we think, the approbation of all men. What it has cost them to do this, is known only to God. That they have been able to do it, has in some measure been the result of the habit of self-control, the daily sense of responsibility, the patient encounter with neces- sary evils, the carefulness for the welfare of their laborers, and the frequent interchange of acts of kindness, to all of which they were compelled by their Anglo-Saxon education, by the spirit of liberty and Christianity within them, by the very necessities of their anomalous institution, and by its practical administration in the presence of Christendom. Of these great qualities, in their grace and power, Bishop Elliott himself was a splendid example. And when the representatives of these Southern Dioceses shall again enter that august Council of the Church, which will meet not two years hence, they will think mournfully and regretfully of him who, by right of age and service, would have stood at their head. They will recall the exquisite grace, the sensitive delicacy, the lofty wis- dom and charity, the calm dignity, the unblenching crest, and the commanding presence which could neither be overawed by the disapprobation of others, nor yet could ever needlessly and unbe- comingly offend their opinions or provoke their prejudices. May the full and complete folds of his shining mantle fall on other shoul- ders equal to the high office which would have devolved upon him ! In looking at his completed life, there was one remarkable gift of this remarkable man on which we dwell with deep and grateful emotion, and which all who ever knew him will recognize at once. We speak of the thorough humanity of his nature : and by this we mean the wealth and strength, the breadth and fullness, of the deep human sympathies in which the learning, wisdom and graces of his nature were veiled — veiled as light is veiled in color, as thought is veiled in words, as feeling is veiled in music. His life seems to have been the rich, healthy growth of early training and happy influences. He grew as the tree grows from the bursting germ, outwards and upwards, year by year, circle upon circle, into strength and majesty : yet with the life and form of the germ all there, with the fibre and firmness of each circle there, all thor- oughly sound, — sound to the core; all lending strength to its growth, proportion to its column, and grandeur to its sheltering arms. His childhood took on his boyhood, and his boyhood his manhood, and his manhood passed into the wisdom of years, all complete in the fullness of that great and bounteous na- ture, whose deep, broad, human sympathies thus made him the Memoir. xvii friend and companion of young and old and of all classes and conditions of men : made him, too, as mindful of the gentle cour- tesies and sweet charities of life with little boys and girls 1 and humble men, as he was easily at home amidst the grander graces of social and official intercourse with the wise, the great, the learned and honored in the land. Doubtless to the eye of that Omniscience which heeds the life and service, the death and fall, of the humblest sparrow among all the feathered tribes that praise Him, the whole life of a man is the man. As the spirit of the living man penetrates and is bounded by every nerve and atom of his living body : so, to that Eye, the soul of every man is incarnate in his life, from the first wail of the infant to the last sigh before the grave which thus completes the full measure of his being, and the perfect " image and superscrip- tion " of his identity. So, to some special natures, it is given to carry in their memory a clear and sensitive consciousness of each period of their lives, and each vital shape of their humanity. And thus did the gifted man whom we mourn seem to have grasped the full outline of his own life, and with the sensitive glance of genius, conceived and realized each part and character in which he had lived, and was thus vividly conscious of himself to himself. His merry childhood, his bounding boyhood, his lusty youth and aspiring manhood, were all the familiar companions and friends of the genial man, the allies and counsellors of the august sage. And so the happy child that climbed to his breast laughed and kissed with the happy child which, as from a mirror, laughed and kissed back again ; and the gallant boy shouted to the bright lover of fun within, who shouted back in echo ; and the vigorous youth felt his outstretched hand clasped by the hand of compan- ion whose steady grasp closed faithfully over his own. And the pale and impassioned student met the answering glance of youth- ful student with " eyes of speculation " rapt in study. And the 1 In a memorial sermon by the Eev. Henry K. Eees, Rector of Christ Church, Macon, Ga., we find the following characteristic anecdote : — " And well might children love him, for he saw in them the purest and truest representatives of his Holy Master on earth. In illustration of his reverent tenderness towards them, a touching and beautiful incident occurred during his last visitation, when in an hour of home relaxation, he watched the play of the little one of the household, who in her glee threw off her shoe. The venerable Bishop knelt before the child and was replacing it, when the father said, " Little Mary, you are greatly honored." " Honored," said the kneeling Bishop, " O no, whose shoe's latchet I am not worthy to unloose, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." b xviii Memoir. struggling man found, in this wise confessor, one who could un- derstand the story of his life, because he retained a vivid mem- ory of his own. Higher than all, he seemed to have kept the memory of mother and sister ; and the shrinking maiden might look into that loving heart without faltering, to see a pure, sweet image of herself reflected there, and to feel that she shared in the knightly tenderness for the ideal woman there enshrined. But yet deeper and holier still was kept the memory of his own errors and frailties ; and the penitent Magdalen and the contrite man met, in that true soul, a fellow-sinner who knew how to forgive, as he had known what it is to be forgiven. It was this humanity of his nature, these pure, strong, earthly sympathies, this veil of the flesh in which his piety was clothed, which added so much to the power of his life and doctrine. His was, indeed, a truly and deeply spiritual life, in the religious sense of that word. But there was, besides this, a human soulfulness, a sensitive sympathy with all that was charming in Nature, beautiful in Art, inspiring in life, or useful to his country, which won for him the regard and affection of men, who were afterwards subdued by the teachings of his faith and the example of his piety. Thus it often happened that the generous host or the genial friend who received him as the gentleman, the scholar, the lover of art, the student of science, or the unselfish patriot, learned to know that there was something deeper and holier still ; and it softly stole upon his consciousness that, in entertaining this gifted stranger, he had " entertained an angel unawares." Nor was the grateful influence of his teaching less felt because it was thus associated with the human sympathies of common interests, the winning courtesy of a gentleman, the charms of a graceful nature, and the strength of a vigorous and comprehensive intellect. We have thus endeavored to present to our readers a true likeness of this faithful son of the Church, this noble child of her nurture, this chosen ruler over an important portion of her heritage, this Father in God to a large number of her people. It has been our wish to describe him just as he was, — as he lived, and acted, and spoke, and worked. Bishop Elliott held opinions which are not held by some who will read this volume ; he believed it to be his duty to do things which we know they have not approved. We have not felt at liberty to disguise these opinions, or to pass over these acts, or even to soften the sharpness of their antagonism. We have endeavored to speak of them in words and in a manner that might not offend the convictions or the feelings of others. Memoir. xix We have desired to be as respectful to their opposing opinions, as we earnestly crave them to be respectful to his. But we have deemed it our duty to present him, as he himself would have wished to stand before them, — modestly, respectfully, but frankly and manfully, himself. In these things he must be judged as he stands. In how many other things can the whole country and Church unite to praise and honor him ! After a laborious life freely spent in the service of God, the Church, and the country, Bishop Elliott, being in his sixty-first year, died suddenly in the city of Savannah, Georgia, on the evening of the 21st of December, 1866. He had been absent from home in the discharge of his Episcopal duties, and had just returned to the welcome of those who loved him so dearly and reverently ; he had just taken his last meal with those who were the objects of his tender solicitude : when, suddenly, he fell lifeless, and was at rest. To close and dear friends, he had often dwelt upon the blessedness of a sudden death to the faithful Christian. This blessing was granted him. Amidst the cares and labors of his holy office, amidst the yearnings of his heart for his country, amidst the peace and beauty of his domestic happiness, "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye," his earthly life was ended, and his soul was with God. It is interesting to recall that thrice, during one year, has the name of Stephen Elliott been borne in mourning through two States, and each time with words of honor, regard, and profound- est respect. On the first occasion, the young hero and soldier and humble Christian "was laid gently and reverently upon the bosom of the State he loved," with the eloquent words of genius for his requiem. But a few days later, and the pious and scholarly father of the noble youth, the Rev. Stephen Elliott, — who had trained him for his high duties, and who could truly and proudly say with Lord Ormond, " I would not give my dead son for any liv- ing son in Christendom," — was laid by his side. And then, alas ! the shining name of Georgia's great Bishop was added to the fatal list. This last startling message carried gloom and sorrow throughout the limits of Georgia and South Carolina, and to many churches, hearts, and homes, in every portion of the country. Men seeking for sympathy met and repeated the mournful intelligence, and the mute but eloquent gesture of grief gave token of their love and reverence for a great and good man thus snatched away, and of their bitter sense of irreparable loss and bereavement. It was keenly felt that a brilliant light and representative of XX Memoir. Southern life, society, tradition and history was suddenly gone ; and that from Churches, and States, and disciples, and friends, a prop upon which they had used to lean, had silently sunk away : and that they must henceforth learn to stand in their own strength, or look elsewhere for support. And in the first blind- ness of their grief they knew not where to look. The Church which he governed will mourn the loss of the calm, clear, just and graceful wisdom which guided her, and the great heart which cheered her. The society in which he moved will lament that its pride and ornament is veiled. Many a younger man, struggling in the battle of life, will miss his voice from among the good and wise, whose approbation is reward, whose praise is wealth. And hundreds have lost forever their friend, example, teacher, guide and comforter — a comforter whose rich, sweet, happy voice of itself brought cheer and hope amidst sorrow and despondency. His death was very sudden. And yet, to those who knew and considered the man, it was what might have been looked for. We have said that his life was the rich growth of the cherished mem- ories of the past. And the tempest of desolation and ruin which had scourged the face of his loved Southern land had torn also through the branches of this stately tree, and strained it to its foundations. The scathing bolts of war had fallen deep amidst its roots. Many ties of kindred had been broken. Many proud and generous associations with the past had been destroyed. The homes of many of his blood and lineage had been made desolate ; the accustomed fires of their hearths had gone out in bitter ashes ; and their sons and daughters were wandering among strangers. His hopes of constitutional liberty had been defeated. His aspira- tions for his country had been blighted. Thus, all unseen, the great roots of his mortal life were snapped, and the rich sources of his earthly strength were dried up. And although, like a beauti- ful tree with its roots all broken and bruised, he still, for a time, stood poised in the perfect balance of his character and the sym- metrical proportions of his nature : yet the great props of his life had been taken away. And so it happened that, stirred by some cold, mysterious breath of the night, with the growth and foliage of his life all heavy with the dew of heavenly cares, he tottered and fell — fell with perhaps one last, loving pang, for the cruel blow with which his sudden and resounding fall was to crash upon the trembling hearts of Churches and States and friends and family. And thus he lay in the majesty of death ; and little children and pure women, young men and old, the meek and the gentle, the Memoir. xxi proud and the lowly, the rich and the poor, the great and the wise, Bishops, priests, patriots, soldiers, scholars and statesmen, came to mourn around the bier of Georgia's great Bishop. Fortuna non mutat genus, was the rallying cry of the ancient worthies. From father to son, is the law of Nature. From gen- eration to generation, is the promise and commandment of God. Amidst the private ruin, social change, and political disaster which now surround them, let those that bear the unsullied name of the soldier of Christ who thus in full armor has fallen on sleep, and names like his, remember, — let every true Southern heart remem- ber, — Fortuna non mutat genus. If their fathers, in their day, have trusted in God, submitted to His will, and conquered difficulties ; they, in the same faith and with like patience, can retrieve disaster, bring good out of evil, and triumph over misfortune. The time is surely coming when it will task all the virtue, wis- dom, strength and courage of the whole country, to save the an- cient liberties of the people, and to purge the administration of the Governments from legislative corruption and official rapacity. The time is not far distant when the true children of God's Church, and the whole brotherhood of Christian men, will be com- pelled to stand together for the defence of their faith, against the assaults of an infidel philosophy and a material humanitarianism on the one hand, and the narrow despotism of priestly power on the other. Let the country remember that the people of the South have always been ardently attached to the great principles of constitutional liberty, social order and conservative law, and that they can proudly and thankfully call the country to witness, that their public men have ever been uncorrupted and incorrupti- ble in the discharge of their public duties. Let the Church re- member that her children of the South have been simple and reverent in their Creed, honest in their piety, and the staunch de- fenders of the great doctrines of Christ's Divinity, Resurrection, and Atonement ; and that, like this beloved Bishop, " they have endeavored to pursue the quiet conservative paths trodden by the wisest and most honored Fathers of the American Church." Ere the time of trial come, let the country and the Church remember Fortuna non mutat genus. T. M. H. Of the great mass of manuscript sermons left by the lamented Bishop Elliott, nothing was prepared by him for the press ; nor was there the slightest indication as to what selection from them he would himself have preferred. Yet it was rightly judged by all that the reputation of so great a Preacher should not be left to go down to futurity only upon the unsubstantial basis of oral tradition. Of the few sermons printed during his life some were of too transient an interest to justify their being inserted here : but others are given, and among them are the Twelfth and Thirteenth, on Toe Busy Man's and TJie Busy Woman's Religious Difficulties, which were printed by request in New Orleans in the year 1859. The Twenty- fifth, on Our National Sin o f Proud Boasting, is the second of two sermons preached, and printed by request, in 1843, on the occasion of the deaths of eminent personages occasioned by the explosion of the Peacemaker ; and it is a discourse the predictions of which will be read with singular interest in the light of the present day. The extract on the Apostolic Succession is from a printed sermon ; and the Pastoral Letter sent out by the House of Bishops from the Southern General Council in 1862, and the Address at the Funeral of Bishop Cobbs, were both printed. All the rest of the volume is now first published from the Bishop's manu- scripts. In regard to the selection here made, it was impossible for the Editor to read through the great mass of material placed at his dis- posal ; and the cherished recollections of two happy years passed under the Bishop's roof, from 1842 to 1844, were a very insufficient guide amid the wealth of more than twenty years' subsequent work in the very prime of his splendid powers. The larger part of these Sermons, therefore, are such as were chosen by the various members of his family, or by other relatives and friends, or by his xxiv Editors Preface. Clergy, and members of the Parishes in Savannah, as the dis- courses which had printed themselves the most deeply in their hearts at the time of their delivery. As to the rest, the choice has been made partly with a view to give greater fullness to the imper- fect outline of the Church Year, but especially to include as many as possible of the sermons written during the last and ripest years of the Bishop's life. In regard to the arrangement, the sermons on general subjects are placed first. Then, beginning with the Eighteenth, follow a num- ber of discourses arranged in the order of the Church Year, though its circle is by no means completed ; and of these, many were written during the last year of his life, including those for Christ- mas-Day, for the Epiphany, for the first two Sundays in Lent, for Good-Friday, and Easter-Day, with others. From the Forty-third to the Fiftieth inclusive have been grouped several which are peculiarly interesting fromtheir connection with the closing scenes of his own Ministry. \jPhe Forty-third is the first that was preached by him on his return to Savannah after the War.^The Forty- fourth, though written previously, is an admirable expression of his own spirit, and of the spirit which he labored to promote in others, under the calamities of the War. The Forty-fifth and Forty-sixth are, unitedly, his " last will and testament " touching the great question of the political troubles of the country, in which he had been so deeply interested. The State of Georgia had appointed a fast-day for the sufferings and deprivations of the people of the State ; and the President of the United States had appointed a Thanksgiving on the same day of the week following, in recogni- tion of National blessings. Christ Church was open for Divine Service on both days ; and these are the two sermons that were preached by the Bishop on those two occasions. The Forty-seventh is the last sermon preached by him in Savannah, on Sunday night, December 9th. The Forty-eighth in the morning, and the Forty- ninth at night, were preached by him on the last Sunday of his life, December 16th, in Augusta. The Fiftieth was the last ever preached by him, being delivered at Montpelier — the scene of his heaviest sacrifices in the cause of Church Education — on Thurs- day, the 20th of December, only the day before his departure. And what more beautiful choice of subjects could be found to close the career of a faithful Preacher ? The first of the four — that in Sa- vannah — gives the triumphant key-note : Look up, and lift up your heads ; for your redemption draweth nigh. Then, almost as with a conscious apprehension of the coming glory : In Thy Light shall Editor s Preface. xxv we see light. Along with this light comes the great Cloud of Wit- nesses — the Bright array, Round the altar night and day ; — and the fall recognition of Christ as not only the Author but also the Finisher of our faith. Last of all is the solemn repetition of the Master's warning : Watch ye therefore : for ye know not when the Master o f the house co?neth, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crow- ing, or in the morning. And these were the closing words : - In- stead of sleeping because the world is troubled and agitated, rather stand upon your watch-tower, and await in faith and patience the Coming of your Master." Almost while the voice of the Preacher was yet sounding, the Master of the house came, " at even." and found the Watchman not " sleeping." The extract on the Apostolic Succession is valuable for its clear doctrinal teachings, though a large part of the printed sermon from which it is taken is of less general interest. The Pastoral Letter of 1862 is inserted, not only because it is of so great beauty*; not only because it breathes such a heavenly spirit in sending forth, from the midst of the alarums of war, its " greetings of love to the Churches of God all the world over ; " not only because it declares in the most plain and pointed terms, what was taught and held by Churchmen as their religious duty towards the colored people even before emancipation : but rather because it was wholly the work of Bishop Elliott's pen. written by him at one heat in the course of an evening, and adopted the next morning by his Brother Bishops with hardly the alteration of a single word. The Address delivered at the Funeral of Bishop Cobbs is placed last, be- cause so large a part of it is applicable, with wonderful exactness, to Bishop Elliott himself, although his character was marked by elements of commanding brilliance and intellectual power to which the pure and gentle and lovely Bishop of Alabama could lay no claim. The closing paragraph of that Address especially — the utterance of a longing and yearning for rest — expresses the dominant feeling of his own heart, no less than that of the saintly Man of God over whose sleeping body they were spoken. Bishop Elliott was a remarkably rapid and fluent writer. The manuscript leaves of sermon after sermon of his may be turned over without detecting the slightest sign of erasure or interlinea- tion, and. with an evenness of hand as perfect as if written all at one sitting and with one penful of ink. Certain cardinal words. xxvi Editors Preface. such as Heart, Life, Love, and Heaven, are invariably spelt by him with a capital letter, as if to give them that prominence to the eye which they hold in the mind. The date of composition or delivery was not always placed by him upon his manuscript; but where given it has been printed at the end of the sermon, and will be an addi- tional element of interest to the reader. It was not often that the Bishop repeated his sermons : yet one of those written in the last year of his life — in this volume numbered the Sixteenth, on " MphrairrCs Altars to Sin " — was preached no less than seven times in different places during the course of a few months : a striking proof of the degree to which the Bishop believed the teachings of that sermon to be needed by the people. It is with inexpressible sadness that we do our humble part in laying before the Church these mute utterances of a voice that shall be heard among us on earth no more : and with many a mis- giving lest the selection may not be altogether such as shall do him the most honor or the Church the most enduring service. But there is one consolation ; and that isf that this volume contains such singular proofs of his earnestness and eloquence ; such melt- ing tenderness and terrible grandeur of spiritual power ; such a mastery of the Word of God, which pierces " even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, aud of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart ; " such vivid and graphic presentations of the Gospel of Christ, and the claims of His Church : that a loving and a faithful People " will not willingly let it die." J. H. H., Jr. New York, July, 1867. Contents 'FIRST SERMON. And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove I for then would I fly away, and be at rest. — Psalm lv. 6 Pp. i-io. SECOND SERMON. And I said, TJiis is mine infirmity : but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High, — Psalm lxxvii 10. Pp. 11-22. THIRD SERMON. Pilate answered, What I haze written I hai'e written. — S. John - XIX. 22 Pp. 23-33. FOURTH SERMON. And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate! — 2 Samuel xxiii 15., Pp. 34-43. FIFTH SERMON. For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ : for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth ; to the jew first, and also to the Greek. — Romans i. 16 .... Pp. 44-54. -t SIXTH SERMON. He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night ? Watch- man, what of the night 1 The watchman said, The morning cometh, and also the night : if ye will inquire, inquire ye: return, come. — Isaiah xxi. 11, 12 Pp. 55-64. xxviii Contents. SEVENTH SERMON. The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep : from whence then hast thou that living water 1 — S. John iv. ii Pp. 65-74. EIGHTH SERMON. And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed : and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever. — Daniel ii. 44. Pp. 75-84- NINTH SERMON. But go thou thy way till the end be : for thou shall rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days. — Daniel xii. 13 . . Pp. 85-95. TENTH SERMON. For who knoweth what is good for a man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow 1 — Ecclesiastes vi. 12 Pp. 96-106. ELEVENTH SERMON. And the apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith. — S. Luke xvii. 5 Pp. 107-116. TWELFTH SERMON. THE BUSY MAN'S RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTIES. And after these things he went forth, and saw a publican, named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom : and he said unto him, Fol- low me. And he left all, rose up, and followed him. — S. Luke v. 27, 28 Pp. 117-127. THIRTEENTH SERMON. THE BUSY WOMAN'S RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTIES. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alo?te? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful Contents. xxix and troubled about many thi?igs : but one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her. — S. Luke x. 40-42 Pp. 128-138. FOURTEENTH SERMON. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee? — Jeremiah iv. 14 Pp. T-W- 1 ^- FIFTEENTH SERMON. PREPARATION FOR THE HOLY COMMUNION. And God requireth that which is past. — Ecclesiastes iii. 15. Pp. 153-164. SIXTEENTH SERMON. Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin, altars shall be unto him to sin. — Hosea viii. 11 Pp. 165-176. SEVENTEENTH SERMON. And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be over- charged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares. For as a s?iare shall it come on all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth. — S. Luke xxi. 34, 35 Pp. 177-189. EIGHTEENTH SERMON. SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. Sanctify them through thy truth : thy word is truth. — S. John v xvii. 17 Pp. 190-200. NINETEENTH SERMON. FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, and saying, Repent ye : for the ki?igdom of heaven is at hand. For this is he that was spoken of by the prophet Esaias, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Frepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. — S. Mat- thew iii. 1-3 Pp. 201-2 1 1. XXX Contents. TWENTIETH SERMON. CHRISTMAS— DAY. As sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing. — 2 Corinthians vi. 10. Pp. 212-222. TWENTY-FIRST SERMON. THE EPIPHANY. And this Gospel of the Kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a witness unto all nations : and then shall the end come. — S. Matthew xxiv. 14 ......... . Pp. 223-233. TWENTY-SECOND SERMON. SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. And these are they which are sown among thorns ; such as hear the word, and the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things entering in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful. — S. Mark iv. 18, 19 . . . Pp. 234-244. TWENTY-THIRD SERMON. FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT. O house of yacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord. — Isaiah ii. 5 Pp. 245-255. TWENTY-FOURTH SERMON. SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me ? saith the Lord. — Isaiah i. ii Pp. 256-265. TWENTY-FIFTH SERMON. THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. Talk no more so exceeding proudly ; let not arrogancy come out of your mouth : for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed. — 1 Samuel ii. 3 . . . .Pp. 266-277. Contents. xxxi TWENTY-SIXTH SERMON. PALM SUNDAY. And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David : Blessed is he that co?neth in t/ie name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest. — S. Matthew xxi. 9 Pp. 278-289. TWENTY-SEVENTH SERMON. GOOD FRIDAY. TJien answered all the people, and said, His blood be on us, and on our children. — S. Matthew xxvii. 25 ... . Pp. 290-303. TWENTY-EIGHTH SERMON. GOOD FRIDAY. To this end iv as I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice. — S. John xviii. 37 . Pp. 304-315. TWENTY-NINTH SERMON. EASTER-DAY. But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping ; and as she wept she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in white, sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou ? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and L know not where they have laid him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. — S. John xx. 11-14 Pp. 516-2,26. THIRTIETH SERMON. WHITSUN-DAY. And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filed all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they xxxii Contents. were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. — Acts ii. 1-4. Pp- 3 2 7-337. THIRTY-FIRST SERMON. WHITSUN-DAY. Quench not the Spirit. — 1 Thessalonians v. 19 . Pp. 338-349. THIRTY-SECOND SERMON. TRINITY SUNDAY : FIRST PART. And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, — Genesis i. 26. Compared with And jfesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water : and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him : and lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. — S. Matthew iii. 16, 17 . . Pp. 350-361. THIRTY-THIRD SERMON. TRINITY SUNDAY : SECOND PART. [The same texts.] Pp. 362-373. THIRTY-FOURTH SERMON. FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. They are of the world : therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth the?n. We are of God. He that knoweth God, heareth us ; he that is not of God, heareth not us. Hereby know we the spirit of truth, and the spirit of error. — 1 S. John iv. 5, 6 Pp. 374-3 8 4- THIRTY-FIFTH SERMON. SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things declare plaifily that they seek a country. — Hebrews xi. 13, 14 Pp. 385-396. Contents, xxxiii THIRTY-SIXTH SERMON. EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. JVbt every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the hingdo?n of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ? and in thy name have cast out devils ? and in thy name done many wonderful works ? And then will L profess unto them, L never knew you : depart from me, ye that work iniquity. — S. Matthew vii. 21—23. p P- 397-408. THIRTY-SEVENTH SERMON. SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. TJien said one unto him, Lord, are there few that be saved 1 And he said unto them, Strive to enter in at the strait gate : for many, L say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able. — S. Luke xiii. 23, 24 Pp. 409-419. THIRTY-EIGHTH SERMON. EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son : make me as one of thy hired serv- ants. — S. Luke xv. 18, 19 Pp. 420-431. THIRTY-NINTH SERMON. TWENTY-SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. The heart knoweth his own bitterness ; and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy. — Proverbs xiv. 10 . . Pp. 432-441. FORTIETH SERMON. Have I been a wilderness unto Israel ? a land of darkness 1 — Jer- emiah ii. 31 Pp. 442-453. EORTY-FIRST SERMON. AT THE HOLY COMMUNION. God is love ; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. — 1 S. John iv. 16 Pp. 454-464. c xxxiv Contents. FORTY-SECOND SERMON. AT THE ORDINATION OF A DEACON. See that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to thee in the mount. — Hebrews viii. 5 Pp. 465-476. FORTY-THIRD SERMON. Be still, and know that I am God. — Psalm xlvi. 10. Pp. 477-486. FORTY-FOURTH SERMON. In your patience possess ye your souls. — S. Luke xxi. 19. Pp. 487-495- FORTY-FIFTH SERMON. ON THE STATE FAST-DAY. For this commandment which I command thee this day, it is not hidden from thee, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that thou shouldest say, Who shall go up for us to heaven, and brmg it unto us, that we may hear it, and do it ? Neither is it beyond the sea, that thou shouldest say, Who shall go over the sea for us, and bring it unto us, that we may hear it, and do it ? But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it. — Deuteronomy xxx. 11-14. Pp. 496-507. FORTY-SIXTH SERMON. ON THE NATIONAL THANKSGIVING-DAY. Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice in the Lord, / will joy in the God of my salvation. — Habakkuk iii. 17, 18. Pp. 508-518. FORTY-SEVENTH SERMON. And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads ; for your redemption draweth nigh. — S. Luke xxi. 28 Pp. 519-527. Contents. XXXV FORTY-EIGHTH SERMON. In thy light shall we see light. — Psalm xxxvi. 9 . . Pp. 528-540. FORTY-NINTH SERMON. Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author a?id finisher of our faith. — Hebrews xii. 1, 2 Pp, 541-553. ^ FIFTIETH SERMON. For the Son of Man is as a man taking a far journey, who left his house, and gave authority to his servants, and to every man his work, and commanded the porter to watch. Watch ye therefore : for ye know not when the master of the house co?neth, at even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning : lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. A?id what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch. — S. Mark xiii. 34-37 .... Pp. 554-562. THE APOSTOLIC SUCCESSION. An Extract from a Ser- mon preached at the Consecration of S. John's Church, Savan- nah, in 1853 Pp. 563-566. THE PASTORAL LETTER of the Bishops in the general COUNCIL Of 1862 Pp. 567-580. THE ADDRESS AT THE FUNERAL OF BISHOP COBBS of Alabama Pp. 581-594. SERMONS. first $2>ttmou. And I said. Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. — Psalm Lv. 6. A XD whither, 0 sweet Psalmist of Israel, could st tliou fly, even if thou hadst the wiugs of the dove, aud be at rest P Dost thou uot know that there cau be uo rest for the soul of man, save in reunion with God ; and that no flight, however distant, however far away from the haunts of men, can give thee that heavenly boon ? Hast thou not told us thyself, in thine own beautiful language, " I shall be satisfied, 0 God, when I awake with thy likeness?" And canst thou, with thy rich and deep experience, expect the wings of a dove to carry thee away, not only from trouble and trial, but from sin and its curse ? Alas, no ! royal Minstrel : no wings can carry thee away from thyself, — can separate thee from thine own heart, — can give thee rest in a world like this. For unrest is not only in the things outside of us, which harass and perplex us, but has its throne in our own hearts. It is the fruit of our own natures, begotten of the corruption in which we are born ; and never to be quieted until the peace of God shall enter into the soul, and calm its struggling' elements. And even then shall there be, so long as life shall last, a law of the members warring against the law of the mind, and ofttimes i 2 Oh that I had Wings like a Dove ! bringing it into captivity to the law of sin which is in our members. Hunt for rest in this world, with wings ! It can never be found ! " Traverse in imagination the extent of creation," — if I may use in this connection words applied by another to a very different subject, — " wander over the most beautiful landscape, pluck the most fragrant flower, select the most costly gem, glide upon the surface of the fairest lake, scale the highest mountain, soar to the further- most star : still the question rushes back upon the mind, — e How shall I find rest among these glories of creation P ' Poor, anxious searcher for peace, all Nature unites in testi- fying : 6 It is not in me ! it is not in me ! ' " We cannot flee away, my beloved hearers, from trouble, from temptation, from sorrow, from sin. They must be met, and overcome. There is a rest promised to the chil- dren of God ; but it is not to be found in this world. There is a home, reserved for the faithful in Christ Jesus ; but it is in heaven. God has prepared, for those who love Him, mansions in which beauty will never fade, in which sorrow will never dim the eye, in which love will never change : but they await His children who have part in the resurrec- tion of Christ. We can enjoy slight foretastes of their happiness through faith and hope ; but it is like the sun gleaming through a troubled sky, and only flecking the landscape with spots of sunshine. All is bright to-day, — but only to-day : to-morrow brings its shadow of trial or of sorrow. All is quiet in the home and in the heart this hour: the next, there rests upon both some dark cloud, which scatters the fond dream of Peace or Faith. For trouble comes alike to all. " There is one event to the righteous, and to the wicked ; to the good and to the clean, and to the unclean ; to him that sacrificeth, and to him that sacrificeth not." 1 Such distinctions could not be made 1 Eccles. ix. 2. Oh that I had Wings like a Dove! 3 here without miraculous intervention, because the right- eous and the unrighteous are so mingled in domestic and social life, are so hound together by ties of association and love and relationship, that the punishment of the one reacts upon the other, and the sorrow of the one is the affliction of the other. True justice can only be meted out at the last. Rest — that may deserve the name — can only be obtained when mortality shall be swallowed up in life. This is the mistake which man is ever making, dream- ing that he can find rest by flying away from the present, Whenever harassed and perplexed, whenever sad and sorrow- ful, his feeling is that of the Psalmist : "Oh that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away, and be at rest." He forgets that the trouble, or the trial, or the sorrow, or the temptation, is not in the mere accidental circumstances : but in the nature of things. He supposes that if he could change this condition of things, or get rid of that evil, — that if he could fly away from this place, or hide himself from that calamity, — he should be at rest. But he ever finds that the world is the same wherever he goes, because he himself is the same. Ccelum, non animum, mutant qui trans mare currant. He ever finds that the thing which has been, is that which shall be ; and that which is done, is that which shall be done : because Nature is ever the one un- changeable impress of God. And when he has shifted all the scenes of life, and played his part now in poverty, now in riches, now in obscurity, now in power, now sur- rounded by friends, and then deserted and alone : he learns, at the last, that rest is nowhere, and can be nowhere, but in himself ; that peace is not the product of earthly combi- nations, but is the gift of Christ, — the quiet sleeping on the pillow, while the winds are howling, and the waves roll- ing, and destruction hovering around. But what a long chase man has, ere he finds this out ; how he toils and 4 Ok that I kad Wings like a Dove ! sweats away the best years of liis life in looking for rest in change ; how he chafes against the fetters which he sup- poses are keeping him away from happiness and peace! Oh, that I might be rich ! Oh, that I might reach this honor ! * Oh, that I might win this object ! Oh, that this crook in my lot might only be taken away ; that this skeleton might be removed from my house ! These are the desires of men, even when they have been so often disappointed in change ; even after they have found no rest in any thing God has done for them. And it will go on so forever. Nothing can alter it, for it is in man himself, and in the condition which sin has forced upon the world. The like cry arises from rich and poor, from known and unknown, from peasant and prince : " Who will show us any good ? " When we hear this wish of the Psalmist uttered by those who are not Christians, we are not surprised at it; for many of them have not God at all in their thoughts, and look upon the world as their only home. If they cannot find rest here, they do not expect to find it at all. But when it is uttered by the Psalmist, or when it is reechoed from the lips of Christians, it does surprise us, for they ought to understand the purposes and arrangements of God. It was wrung from David under the pressure of troubles and ca- lamities ; and it is wrung in like manner from Christians by the sore trials which often come upon theni : but still is it the cry of Nature, and not of Faith ! For whither could the wings even of the dove bear any Christian, safer and better than the place where God has put him ? Whither could he go, to be further from himself, or nearer to his God ? It is only God and himself that can give him any irremediable trouble. Nature is alike everywhere, — cursed and smitten. Man is alike everywhere, — unbelieving and wicked. What use in flying ? Who has put you where you are ? Who has surrounded you with the circumstances Oh that I had Wings like a Dove ! 5 which are your trial and temptation ? Who has planted the crook in your lot, — the skeleton in your house ? Is it not God ? And cannot He transfer them wherever you go, or raise up worse in the place to which your wings have carried you? You cannot escape from God. This very Psalmist, who wished that he had the wings of a dove, has told thee that " if thou take the wings of the morn- ing, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea ; even there shall his hand lead thee, and his right hand shall hold thee." 1 If you helieve that God rules and superintends every thing, — that He has disposed the circumstances which surround and harass you, — why fly at all ? They must be best for you, because He has promised to make every thing work together for good to them that love Him. It is quite lawful for the Christian to pray, as S. Paul did, that the thorn in his flesh, whatever it may be, may be removed : but not to fly away, as Jonah did, from the cross which has been laid upon him. In the one case he would most assuredly receive the answer : " My grace is suf- ficient for thee : " 2 in the other, he might find that it was " as if a man did flee from a lion, and a bear met him ; or went into the house, and leaned his hand on the wall, and a serpent bit him." 3 In the anguish of some severe trial, the words of the Psalmist might come as the strong cry or wail of Nature from the lips of the believer ; but it would soon be followed by the quiet of submission : " Not my will, but Thine, 0 God, be done ! " A Christian ought to know that rest cannot be found in attempting to fly from God ; and flying from His allotment, is flying from Him. It can be found only in submission to God ; in doing faithfully that which He has given us to do ; in suffering patiently that which He has called us to bear. The Scripture speaks of the Christian life that now is, as of 1 Psalm cxxxix. 9, 10. 2 2 Cor. xii. 9. 3 Amos v. 19. 6 Oh that I had Wings like a Dove / something set and arranged for us by God, just as Christ's life was set and arranged for Him. And if we would re- ceive the rest which remaineth for the people of God, and would catch now and then the foretastes of it which come as streaks of light upon our hidden path, we must -— " Trust in Him who trod before The desolate paths of life ; Must bear in meekness, as He meekly bore, Sorrow and toil and strife. Think how the Son of God These thorny paths hath trod ; Think how He longed to go, Yet tarried out, for thee, the appointed woe ; Think of His loneliness in places dim Where no man comforted nor cared for Him ; Think how He prayed, unaided and alone, In that dread agony, Thy will be done ! Friend, do not thou despair ! Christ, in His Heaven of heavens, will hear thy prayer." We do not understand the true philosophy of Christian- ity. Where we ought to see it, in the life and character of Christ, we do not look for it, thinking of Him always as God our Redeemer, and not as Man our example, How much divine wisdom we lose in this misconception ! His was the true life of man upon earth. How clearly He saw His work ; how bravely He went up to it ; how patiently He labored in it ; how humbly He submitted to the will of God ; how meekly He bore every thing which was laid upon Him ! He had no rest, — in the sense in which man cries out for it, — no rest, night nor day : but He had the peace of God, which is, in this world, the foreshadowing of the heavenly rest. And this peace — the peace arising from walking submissively in the work assigned to us — is all that we may look for here. And Christ made us no larger promise. He never said that His disciples should have rest. He could not say it ; for He said, " The disciple must be as his Oh that I had Wings like a Dove ! 7 Master ; " and the Master had no rest : but He did say, " Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you." 1 And this peace is our exceeding great reward in this life ; never to be got, however, by taking the wings of the dove and flying away, but only by imitating Christ, and setting our faces like a flint towards our work, leaving it with God to portion out our happiness. And when we do appre- ciate the glory of submission, when we in our work go straight forward whither the Spirit leads us to go, when we, in our sufferings, see God's love ever as a bow in the cloud, and are led to say, "It is well, for the Lord hath done it : " then do we read aright the lessons of Christian- ity ; we know its meaning ; we understand its life ; we snatch from it its blessings ; we look up and see Heaven opened. We are no longer groping amid the beggarly ele- ments of this world ; its philosophy we have cast aside as fruitless ; its hopes we have trampled upon as vanity ; its practice forever feeds unrest. We have found at last the true happiness of man ; and we have found it, where man had never looked for it, in labor, in duty, in suffering, in humility, in looking to God's directions, as a maiden looks to the hand of her mistress. Man had supposed that it lay in ease, in wealth, in honor, in freedom of will, in indepen- dence of action : but the Christian, in following Christ, has found that his way to rest lay not among these, but turned aside to the humble in heart, to the lowly in spirit, to the meek in nature, to the suffering and the smitten; and ended ofttimes in shame and the cross. But with all these was peace, — peace that passeth understanding ; peace which the world can neither give nor take away. How hard it is to do our part in life patiently and sub- missively, in the true spirit of the martyr ! Oh, how little man knows wherein true greatness lies ! He is looking for 1 S. John xiv. 27. 8 Oh that I had Wings like a Dove ! it in action : God sees it in obedience. He is measuring it by deeds : God is measuring it by suffering. He is embalming it in song and story, because of its glitter and display : God is embalming it in His book of life, because of its quiet faith and its unmurmuring trust. Man sees not the truest glory of his fellow-man : that is hid away in the secrets of his own heart, and is known only to God. Man's noblest and hardest conflicts are with himself, and his noblest vic- tories are over his own nature. His temptation is to take wings and fly away from whatsoever is painful, or irksome, or self-denying. His victory is in overcoming this allure- ment, and standing firm at his post of duty or of suffering. We are surrounded by humble, unknown beings, whose lives are truly sublime, whose triumphs over self are more glori- ous in God's sight than all the victories of earthly conquer- ors. When His books shall be opened, and His record of goodness and of greatness shall be displayed to the world, how many names of which the world has never heard shall stand high upon that roll of life ? — here a young heart, which smothered its affections that it might devote itself to the duties which home exacted of it ; there a wife, who bore in secret, scorn, contumely, contempt, persecution, for the sake of Christ and His sacred cause : here a hero, who de- spised the shame of the world, that he might bear the cross of Christ unsullied through the world ; there a sufferer, who lay for years without murmuring, in the hands of God, help- less, desolate, with no comforter but his Saviour : here a daughter of affliction, from whom has been stripped the dearest objects of affection, and yet who, kissing the rod, looks submissive into the face of God; there a victim of calumny, who bears for a whole lifetime unmerited re- proach, and leaves vengeance and vindication to the pleas- ure of God. Oh, cases like these abound in the world ; Oh that I had Wings like a Dove / 9 are found everywhere in secret places of which that world never hears ; are the true poetry of religion, sweet music in the ear of God, rich fragrance of prayer and faith rising up before His presence. Could the heart-life of such as these be written, — obscure, nameless people, — it would flash upon the world a moral heroism second only to the life of Christ, — a sublime self-devotion, learned only from that inimitable Master. These are the beings — sufferers and martyrs though they seem to be — who know what rest is. They have ceased their struggle with the world ; they have subdued their own restless unbelief : and now they have quieted themselves upon the bosom of God, just as little children sink to sleep upon the bosoms of their moth- ers, their hearts still sobbing out their griefs, their eyes still wet with the tears of their young sorrow. This is the path to rest, my beloved hearers, and the only one which God has marked out for man. Even if the wish of the Psalmist could be gratified, and you could have wiugs like a dove, you could not fly anywhere that would give you rest. That must be wrung out of labor, out of duty, out of suffering, out of an imitation of Christ. That must be won, not by flight, but by endurance ; not by a cowardly deser- tion of the post at which God has placed us, but by stand- ing to it through every privation and every suffering. Sub- mission to God's will, whatever that may be, is the first step toward it. In due time will come the fruits of this sub- mission, — peace, and even joy: and then will man learn, what is the true lesson of life, — that unrest is within him- self, and is the child of unbelief and vain desires ; that it has but slight connection with the circumstances of life ; that it can never be quieted by change of scene or condi- tion, or by gratification of its wishes ; that even the wings of the morning cannot bear it away from the heart. David's io Oh that I had Wings like a Dove! wish was vain ; it was one, nevertheless, in which we all sometimes indulge. Let us drive it away from us as a temp- tation ; and seek for rest — where Christ found it — in running with patience the race that is set before us, look- ing unto Jesus as the Author and Finisher of our Faith. ffeeccwt) Sermon And I said, This is mine infirmity : but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. — Psalm Ixxvii. 10. npHE Psalms are what may be termed, in modern phrase- ■ ology, the "experience" of David. In them we are permitted to trace the workings of a Christian heart as dis- tinctly as if they were the pulsations of our own ; to exam- ine minutely the dealings of God with a man whom He declares to have been, despite his infirmities, a man after His own heart. And an unspeakable privilege it is, to be allowed to read a soul in which God delighted, and to analyze feelings which were acceptable with Him. Left to ourselves, we should often be sadly disturbed at our own spiritual condition ; we should be tempted to believe that no other Christian had ever experienced the sad variations which disturb our religious life. But having before us such an example as David ; possessing what may be considered the daily journal of his feelings and emotions; studying them as they are laid bare in their weakness, as well as exhibited in their power : we can feel " the pulses of our Psalmist's passions beating their ditties as we lay our hearts unto them." 1 They become a standard for us ; a spiritual mirror in which we may see our own affections re- flected. His experience of God's dealings with his soul is written for our instruction in righteousness ; and the phases of his feelings are indications to us of what we may expect in the progress of our spiritual life. Just as we see him 1 Jackson. 12 This is mine Infirmity. full of joy and peace in believing, to-day ; and then to-mor- row cast into despondency and unbelief : so may we antici- pate changes in our perceptions of God's relation to us. Our comfort, our sorrow ; our fear, our confidence ; our hope, our despair : are all exhibited to us in some one or other of those exquisite Psalms which he poured forth as indicative of his own emotions ; and their rapid and often fearful variations are just as clearly marked in the vicissi- tudes of our condition. Many a Christian heart has found reason again and again to thank God for having conde- scended to unfold to us, through His Spirit, the inner work- ings of a human heart, as it was growing in grace and be- coming assimilated to Himself. The sanctified heart, the heart already made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light, is not what the Christian craves for his contempla- tion. He wants to study the heart in its struggles after sanctification ; — in its throbs and pulsations as it battles in the stern strife with temptation and sin, and the enemies of its inner life. It is not the conqueror with the crown upon his head and the palm-branches of victory in his hand, that is the most useful exemplar to the warring child of God : but it is the man of infirmity, and yet the man after God's own heart, whom it craves to look upon, as he rages in the midst of the battle-field, — now in the dust, and anon flashing the sword of the Spirit in the face of the adver- sary ; now crying for help with the feebleness of a child, and anon shouting forth the praises of Him who hath deliv- ered him from the power of the enemy. The soldier who is girding on his harness for the field cares not to look upon the triumphal car, save as it may prove an incentive to his ambition ; but rather loves to fight over with the veteran the battles he has won, and to learn the arts and contriv- ances by which he overcame the foe and laid him prostrate in the dust. It is in the Revelation only — the last and This is mine Infirmity. 13 consummating Book of the Gospel of our Lord — that we find those pictures of victory and of Heaven which are so glorious for the Christian : as if to teach us that the great- est portion of our lives, like the largest portion of the Bible, is to be occupied with the good fight of Faith ; while vic- tory, triumph, rest, reward, are to be left for the consum- mation of all things. Hence is it so very interesting a feature in our Liturgy, that such large portions of the Psalms of David are ap- pointed to be read upon every Lord's day; — enough to ensure to every Christian soul the " meat in due season " which it requires. So intermingled are the Psalmist's joys with his lamentations ; so rapid is the change from the full assurance of hope to the deep despondency of a forsaken soul ; so frequently does he run the gamut from the lowest notes of a sinner humbled in the dust to the highest out- bursts of thanksgiving and of praise : that almost every selection of Psalms will furnish its tone for every heart, and the mourning Christian and the peaceful Christian and the rejoicing Christian will each find something that shall har- monize with his own condition and satisfy the cravings of his own soul. Sadly ignorant must be that mind, or miser- ably dull that spirit, which can find no music in the tones of David's harp ; which can pass uncheered through such a flood of Christian light. Still more forlorn the condition of those who can quarrel with the Church, because she brings these glorious ditties so daily to her children's minds ; — because, like a tender mother, she gives them line upon line, and precept upon precept, from the song-book of the sweet Psalmist of Israel. How cheering to us that David had his infirmity ! — that he was not a being of perfection, and that his infirmity was just the infirmity which is most common to us all, — that of distrusting God ; of not believing in His promises, because 14 This is mine Infirmity, they seem, for a little while, to lack fulfillment. The burden of the Psalm from which my text is taken, is a declaration of his distrust of God ; and he recovers himself by confess- ing that it was his infirmity, and by casting himself back upon the memory of God's mercy and loving-kindness in the years that were gone. " I said, This is mine infirmity : but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will remember the works of the Lord : surely I will remember thy wonders of old." I say, how cheering this is, that it is not only we who have our infirmities, who are filled with murmuring and distrust, who require to look back to past experience for our comfort and our assurance : but that this veteran servant of God, this chosen child of grace, this man of Christian struggle from his boyhood, this spiritually-minded saint, is compelled to make the con- fession of his weakness, and to pursue the very course which we must pursue for the resumption of his faith and his peace. Such confessions are our life, not because we rejoice in iniquity, not because we are glad over the infirmities of the Saints, but because it gives us hope that as they con- quered those infirmities, through grace, and " obtained a good report," so may we overcome ours through the strength which is in Christ Jesus, and rejoice through hope of the grace of God. This feature runs through Christianity, and makes it the precious Gospel which it is. The infirmities of the Saints are never concealed, but are made manifest, so that the struggling saints of God, conscious of their weak- nesses, may not despair, but may rather rejoice that they have a God who has unveiled the infirmities of His chosen children ; that they have a Saviour who can be touched with a feeling of those infirmities ; that a Spirit has been vouchsafed them, who is promised especially to help those infirmities. It is frequently made an objection to the Bible that such This is mine Infirmity. 15 and such individuals, patriarchs, prophets, kings, apostles, have been exhibited therein as men of very great infirmities, and, in some instances, as men who have committed enor- mous sins. The impression seems to be left upon certain minds, that such individuals could not be accepted by a holy God ; nay, more, that a religion must be worth very little whose chief Saints could have been guilty of such weak- nesses, — to use no harsher word. The fact I shall not con- trovert 5 but that it ought to be an objection to the scheme of religion contained in the Bible, I cannot admit. To me it is one of the clearest proofs of the inspiration of the Bible 5 for, if the Saints of the Bible had been represented as faultless men, their conduct would not have harmonized with the plan of salvation, with the scope and purpose of the economy of grace. As I understand Christianity, it has come to save sinners, and to change them into saints meet for the inheritance of Heaven. These sinners are to be saved through grace, not by any merit or deserving of their own. And when this grace has worked upon the heart, it is only the beginning of a growth in grace, which is to go on through a lifetime of discipline until it shall be perfected in glory. " And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground ; and should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself ; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear." 1 If, according to the plan of salvation, the children of God were to be perfect at once, why a Saviour, continued in Heaven to be their Advocate ? Why such a precious promise as this, " If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the right- eous : and he is the propitiation for our sins ? " 2 Why a Spirit sent to earth to witness with our spirits, to cheer, to 1 S. Mark iv. 26-28. 2 \ s. j olm ji. l, % 1 6 This is mine Infirmity. comfort, to sanctify us, to help our infirmities ? Why the chastening rod of a Father held perpetually over us, and the solemn declaration sounded in our ears, " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth ? " 1 Why the constant injunctions of the Apostles to " work out our salvation with fear and trem- bling," 2 — to " run, not as uncertainly," — to " fight, not as one that beateth the air," — but to "keep under the body and bring it into subjection, lest while preaching to others," he himself " should be a castaway ? " 3 No ! this manifestation of the infirmity of the Saints is just in har- mony with the Gospel scheme ; — especially what ought to have been expected in the development of a " salvation by faith, through grace." It is only when we turn to a spu- rious Christianity, that we find perfect saints. The Saints of the Bible are all men of infirmity, and therefore it was that they gloried in a " High Priest that might be touched with a feeling of their infirmities " ; therefore it was that they cried out for a " Spirit that might make intercession for them with groanings, which cannot be uttered." 4 As the religion, so the saints. A religion of grace : Saints having infirmity. A religion of merit ; and, as a conse- quence, saints pretending to perfection, — " whited sepul- chres, full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness." 5 Such is the harmony, as I feel it, between saints having infirmity and a salvation through grace; and such is the attitude which, as all analogy teaches us, should be occu- pied by those who are in a state of tutelage. What is the necessity of spiritual discipline, if we are already perfect ? What of chastening, if we have no faults ? What of the means of grace, if we have no evil habits to be rooted out, no good ones to be built up ? All the instruction of the 1 Heb. xii. 6. 2 Phil. ii. 12. a 1 Cor. ix. 26, 27. 4 Eom. viii. 26. 5 S. Matt, xxiii. 27. This is mine Infirmity. 17 Bible, and all the institutions of the Church, teach us that the Church of Christ is a school, planted in the world, in which Christians have to he prepared for their places in Heaven, — prepared through temptation, through weakness, through suffering, through trial. And if this be so, is not infirmity necessarily a part of the very being of a Christian ? What the need of placing a child at school, unless it may be trained in knowledge and in virtue? When praising the management of a school, do we say that it is a school whose scholars have no infirmities : or that it is one where those infirmities are gradually cured ? Certainly the latter. And we give our faith to it when we see the vicious reclaimed, and the ignoraut enlightened, and the weak character made strong; and not when we learn that the entrance to the school has been debarred to all such ! When praising the success of a parent's efforts, do we speak of his family circle as well disciplined when we say that his children had no faults : or when we show that very gross faults have been cured under his arrangements ? And so with Christianity. So far as the justification of a sinner is concerned, that is the effect of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ ; but after we have received peace through that justificatiou, we must be sanctified and made meet for Heaven. Now what should be the praise of the Church, — and this brings us back to the objection we are considering, — that there are no in- firmities within the Church: or that she gradually cures them ? that as soon as an individual crosses her threshold, his sins are all laid down : or that she is a school in which the teachings of the Holy Ghost are made responsive to the infirmities of the creature, and thus weak sinful men are gradually built up into the image and likeness of Christ ? How futile, then, to make it an objection to the Bible, con- taining the scheme of salvation which it does, that it por- 2 1 8 This is mine Infirmity. trays for our example, and for God's commendation, Saints who have been men of like passions with ourselves ! To return to our subject of rejoicing, — that we find such a Saint as David confessing his infirmity, because each one of us has our infirmity. Who that kneels at this Com- munion Table, but has occasion to say of some weakness, of some shortcoming, " This is mine infirmity 99 ? " The infirmities of the believer," says a beautiful writer of the present day, " are as varied as they are numerous. Some are weak in faith, and are always questioning their interest in Christ. Some superficial in knowledge, and shallow in experience, and ever exposed to the crudities of error and to the assaults of temptation. Some are slow travellers in the divine life, and are always in the rear ; while yet others are often ready to halt altogether. Then there are others who groan beneath the burden of bodily infirmity, exerting a morbid influence upon their spiritual experience ; — a ner- vous temperament — a state of perpetual depression and despondency — the constant corroding of mental disquie- tude — physical ailment — imaginary forebodings — a facile yielding to temptation — petulance of spirit — unguarded- ness of speech — gloomy interpretations of Providence — an eye that views only the dark hues of the cloud, the som- bre shadings of the picture." 1 Such is the catalogue of infirmities which a Christian of deep experience has drawn up for our consideration ; and among them I fear that most of you can lay your finger upon some one and say, " 6 This is mine infirmity,' this has been the plague of my Christian life, the enemy of my Christian peace. With this have I battled ! Against this have I struggled ! Again and again hath it cast me down ; again and again have I risen victo- rious over it. But still c it is mine infirmity.' Shall it 1 Winslow. This is mine Infirmity. 19 conquer me. or shall I be conqueror, and more thau con- queror, through Him that loved me ? M Think not, child of God, whoever you may be, that you are bearing this infirmity alone ! Think not that you are unpitied in your lamentations over it, without sympathy in your struggles against it. You have, thanks be to God, a High-Priest who can be touched with a feeling of your infirmities ; who is always ready to pour out, upon every sincere straggler, of the fullness of His grace for that very single infirmity which is distressing you. What is it ? " Is it sin, is it sorrow, is it sickness, is it want ? " What is it P " Is it some fault of temper, some levity of disposition, some lust of the flesh, some temptation of the heart ? " What is it ? " Is it unbelief, is it despondency, is it faithlessness, is it coldness of spirit P " Xo matter what it is, my hearer, if you feel it as an infirmity ; if you strive against it as an infirmity ; if you mourn over it, and would cast it off, as an infirmity : you have the burden carried for you, for the Scripture tells us, u Himself took our infirmities and car- ried our sicknesses. ?? " Wondrous view of the incarnate God ! n as one has beautifully expressed it : « That very infirmity which now bows you to the earth, by reason of which you can in no wise lift up yourself, your Saviour bore. It bowed Him to the dust, and brought the crimson drops to His brow. And is this no consolation ? Does it not make your infirmity even pleasant, to remember that Jesus once bore it, aud in sympathy bears it still P " It is a blessed consolation to feel that we have a Friend, closer to us than a brother, who is touched with our infirmity ; who instead of covering us with reproaches because we are weak, bears those weaknesses for us. How tender is our Saviour ! How beautiful our religion ! How wreathed is it with the richest treasures of love and of sympathy ! How little do they understand it, who would change it into a thing of 20 This is mine Infirmity. harshness, and transform the gushing affections of an Emmanuel, a God with us, into the stern severity of a God afar off! And can you not, my fellow-Christians, imitate David, and find in your own experience some consolation for the infirmity which weighs upon you ? It was when he was interrogating his gracious Lord in strains like these, "Will the Lord cast off forever? and will he he favorable no more ? Is his mercy clean gone forever ? doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God forgotten to he gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies ? 55 that he was fain to add : " This is mine infirmity ; hut I will re- member the years of the right hand of the Most High." And have you, my beloved hearer, no such years to remem- ber? Can you not look back to the days that are gone, and consider that in six troubles He has delivered you, yea in seven that no evil has touched you ? And, consid- ering this, can you not trust Him for the time to come ? Hath He yet permitted your infirmity utterly to prevail against you? Has it ever so cast you down, as that you have let go the anchor within the veil? Then why lament for the future ? Why distrust a God who has sur- rounded you with mercies and blessings, because perchance there remains one thorn in the flesh? Has He not told you, " My grace is sufficient for thee ? " 1 Comfort your- self in the past. Remember the works of the Lord, — works wrought by the grace of God and the power of the Spirit within your own heart, — wrought upon feelings, upon affections, upon intellect, upon the whole creature, soul and body, so that you know that you are a new crea- ture in Christ Jesus. Remember His wonders of old, — wonders that you have seen and rejoiced in, when the way of the Lord was in the sanctuary. And even though now 1 2 Cor. xii. 9. This is mine Infirmity. 21 " His way be in the sea, and bis path in the great waters, and his footsteps be not known," 1 still trust in Him, and be satisfied that He will put upon you no greater burden than you can bear. And let the tenderness of God with our infirmities teach us also to bear the infirmities of our brethren. Ah ! my hearers, there is a large field of exhortation open for me in this direction, but I can only touch it now. The bearing the infirmities of the weak is a grace too little understood, and yet it is the grace which assimilates us most nearly to Christ. His distinctive mark in prophecy was, " A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench ; " 2 and by these emanations of tenderness — so uncommon and so unknown in the world — was He to be distinguished among the children of men. And shall His disciples be distinguished by any thing so unlike this as censoriousness, as fault-finding, as evil-speaking, as crush- ing those who are already down, as shooting poisoned arrows at the wounded and stricken heart ? The love of Christ forbid! Are you, my hearer, strong in the Lord? Then remember, " We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves." 3 Are you yourself " compassed with infirmity " ? Then remem- ber, that as you desire the Lord Jesus to bear your infirmi- ties, so should you also bear the infirmities of others. Has a Christian brother or sister been overtaken in a fault ? 44 Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye, which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness ; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted." 4 Let us in all things strive to do unto others as we would do unto our- selves. Our own weaknesses we confess to God, but we do not trumpet them forth to men. " We unveil them," as 1 Psalm lxxvii. 19. 2 Isaiah xlii. 3. 3 Rom. xv. 1. 4 Gal. vi. 1. 22 This is mine Infirmity. one has exquisitely worded it, " to His eye, and He kindly and graciously veils them from all human eyes. Be this our spirit and our conduct toward a weak and erring brother. Let us rather part with our right hand, than publish his infirmity to others, and thus wound the Head by an unkind and unholy exposure of the faults and frailties of a member of His body, and by so doing cause the ene- mies of Christ to blaspheme that worthy Name by the which we are called." There may be some one here present who keeps aloof from the Church of Christ because of some infirmity which may be weighing upon the conscience. Is this wise ? How is the infirmity to be cured ? Whence is the power to come which is to conquer the infirmity ? Is it not better at once to place yourself, in all humility of spirit, in the school of Christ, under the discipline of Christ, and endeavor there to conquer in His strength? If you are kept away only by some infirmity, will it not lighten that infirmity to roll it upon Christ, to permit the Holy Spirit to share it with you ? Oh, keep not away from Jesus because of the very weak- nesses which He came to bear for you, which He has already borne for you ! " Come unto me/' is His especial invitation, " all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 5 1 i S. Matt. xi. 28. €l)itt) Sermon. Pilate answered, What I have written I have written. — S. John xix. 22. TJ OW often a man announces a great truth without be- ing at all conscious of it. His words become words in the mouth of all the world, while he spake them only as the appropriate words of the occasion. In some critical mo- ment of individual fortune, at some tirrning-point of events whose greatness he does not appreciate, he utters a thought which impresses itself upon the whole future of the race, and is repeated from generation to generation as a solemn reality. These are not inspirations, because they are not suggested by the Spirit of God ; they are not the deduc- tions of reason, for they are most often just the words which the circumstances call for. They are not proverbs, for they contain no particular antithesis of words. But they have so shaped themselves, that they forever speak a warning in our ears, and haunt us like a shadow which is eternally connected with us, and which we must one day meet when words shall become terrible realities. They startle us, not because of the present, but because they point us to an unending future ; not because they suggest any thing which is immediately fearful, but because they remind us of something which is to be eternally perma- nent. Their awfulness is not of to-day, but forever. Their sting gives no instant pain, but we feel that it is a worm that shall never die. "When Filate uttered the saying of our text, he had no 24 What I have written I have written. conception what it really imported. He spoke it in the haughtiness of his heart and in the indolence of his tem- per. He had no thoughts, when he said it, either of God or man. He had no conception that he was fulfilling the foreordinations of God ; or that he was putting upon record words which should shake man's soul, whenever he might ponder upon them. He was thinking only of himself ; and when he said, " What I have written I have written," he meant no more than that he did not choose to alter what he had already done, or that he did not deem the matter of importance enough to take any more trouhle about it. And yet these words teach us two most solemn truths, truths which I mean to dwell upon to-day, and which we should all keep ever present with us as monitors of duty, — as warnings of what is before us in the days which are yet to come upon us. There are thoughts which are grand enough to make us pause upon them, however little we may be accustomed to think seriously about any thing ; and such thoughts are these which arise naturally out of Pilate's answer. If there is any thing which can startle us in life, it is the fir ding that we are swayed by influences which we have never counted upon ; that we are making impressions which can never be eradicated. Both these elements of responsibility are found in Pilate's answer. The words which Pilate had written were, " JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS." Against this the Chief Priests of the Jews demurred, saying, " Write not, The King of the Jews ; but that he said, I am King of the Jews. Pilate answered, What I have written I have written." He had been unconsciously an instrument in God's hands. Caring nothing about God, sneering at all truth, considering the Messiah as a mere Jewish impostor, he was nevertheless made to write the truth, the mighty truth of the times, upon the Cross. The King of the Jews had come, What I have written I have written. 25 and they were ignorant of it ; but a Gentile and a skeptic was made to proclaim it in the most conspicuous manner. It was placed as a title right over the head of the Crucified. It was attached to the Cross, as if to show that it was the royal chariot in which to ride triumphant to his Kingdom. It was written in three languages, that all the world might understand it. And when it was objected to, the objection was met by the stubborn answer, " What I have written I have written." It was the overruling power of God using this infidel as His instrument, and yet using him in such manner as that he felt no consciousness of having been necessitated. He had perfect liberty not to write it at all. He might have altered it after he had written it. But yet he did write it, and would not change it, even while he cared nothing at all about the pretensions of Jesus of Nazareth. Thus is it that God is ever making the wrath of man to praise Him, and is compelling the indifferent and the unbelieving to bring His purposes to pass. And in like manner are we all the unconscious instru- ments of God in working out His purposes. We are pur- suing, whether believers or infidels, what we consider the regular routine of life. One thing follows another in reg- ular and natural succession, the thought of to-day follow- ing as we suppose logically the thought of yesterday, and the action of this hour treading consequentially upon the action of the last. We can perceive no interference with the sequence. Nothing comes violently to break in upon our train of thought, or to change our course of action. If there is any modification of either opinion or conduct, it seems to be produced by circumstances which were alto- gether ordinary, and in the course of a reasonable proba- bility. No man can say that his will has been violently overruled. No angel has stood — that he was conscious of ' — in his path opposing him with the sword of the Lord. 26 What I have written I have written. No voice has come to him saying, " Go here," or " Go there " ; " Do this," or " Do that." Every thing has gone on with him as if he were his own master, the creature of his own will. And yet has every individual of the human race been silently working out the purposes of God in Christ Jesus. This Christians know and rejoice in. It is their delight and their glory to know that God is so using them. It is their heart's desire to aid Him in the whole mystery of His will. Their exceeding great consolation is, that they are not walking by the light of their own eyes, but are led along paths of safety and of peace. Unbelievers do not know it, and would not perhaps acknowledge it ; but it is proved upon them by the persistent progress of God's pur- poses in spite of all opposition, and by the perpetually visible bringing of good for the Church out of the evil of the world. We cannot trace the history of nations in its connection, for example, with such an event as the advent of our Lord, without being most forcibly struck with the constant recurrence of this very thing. It was not Pilate alone who was made to testify to the identity of Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah. Individuals and nations, all the way back to the promise in the garden of Eden, had been made to do the same. When Caiaphas, who was the High Priest that same year, said unto the Jews in reference to Jesus, " Ye know nothing at all, nor consider that it is ex- pedient for us, that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not : " 1 was it of his own will, think ye, that he uttered this prophecy of the necessary sacrifice and death of Christ ? Like Pilate he uttered a divine truth ; he carried on the purposes of God : but did he intend it ? Did not God overrule his wicked purpose of the execution of an innocent Man, to the purposes of His i S. John xi. 49, 50. What I have written I have written. 27 will ? When a decree issued from the court of the Caesars that all the world should be taxed, and in pursuance of that decree our Lord's Mother according to the flesh came up to her own City and Tribe, and brought forth her Son in Bethlehem, according to all the prophecies which had been forecast upon Him : was it of his own unguided purpose, think ye, that the Caesar conceived such a project of taxa- tion P He issued an unusual, but still quite a natural, de- cree. He ordained what he supposed should redound to his own glory and his own emolument. He had no knowledge of the divine prophecies, nor any idea of fulfilling them. The last thing on earth he should have dreamed of, would have been the giving countenance to a rival King. Never- theless, this very decree did carry Mary to Bethlehem, and did fulfill the prophecy of Micah : " But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel ; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting." 1 When Cyrus and Darius issued the decrees permitting the Tribes of Judah and Benjamin to return from their captivity at Babylon and rebuild the city and Temple of Jerusalem, was it at all in their minds to fulfill the prophecy of Jacob made a thousand years be- fore, that the sceptre should not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh came ? Da- rius performed what he considered a wise political act, put- ting a strong people between him and Egypt. That was all his motive. And yet it was the overruling hand of God making all things work most naturally for His own wise purposes. I might cite instance after instance of this sort ; but it is unnecessary. These are enough to show the course of God's dealings, and the mode of His operation. The world goes on naturally ; each man seems to do as he 1 Micah v. 2. 28 What I have written I have written, pleases ; each nation appears to be working out its manifest destiny : but yet in the end, that comes to pass which God has foreordained ; and when man does not advance it will- ingly, he is nevertheless made to advance it unconsciously. He is God's instrument whether he chooses to be or not. The only difference is that, if he cooperates with God heartily and sincerely, he receives the " Well done, thou good and faithful servant." 1 If he does not, he is still made to work for God, even though, at the last, he receive condemnation. This is one truth which comes logically out of Pilate's answer, and is worth a man's consideration. As I said be- fore, an unbeliever may not acknowledge this truth, so far as any consciousness of his own is concerned. But when he perceives, from the whole history of the world, how every thing has been overruled for the establishment and advance- ment of Christ's Kingdom, and how naturally it appears to have all come to pass : should he not consider this point, whether he may not be an instrument in God's hand, with- out being conscious of it? Pilate was not conscious of it. Caiaphas was not conscious of it. Cyrus was not conscious of it. And yet every one of them was the instrument of God, — was a mere tool for the economy of Grace. What a silly position, to be made an agent for doing the very thing you are opposing and fighting against; to be clamoring out your antagonism against the purposes of God, even while you are made unwittingly to work in the traces of the char- iot of the Redeemer ! If there is one thing more than an- other that should make an unbeliever gnash his teeth, it is the absolute certainty that God is making his wrath turn to the glory of Christ, and is restraining that which He does not choose shall break forth for the annoyance of the Church. i S. Matt. xxv. 21. What I have written I have written. 29 But there is another arid quite as solemn a truth con- tained in these words of Pilate ; and it is, that we are all perpetually making impressions which can never be changed. We are all writing, writing upon most impressible materials, upon hearts, upon feelings, upon affections, upon mind, upon character, upon soul, words which we may never be able to alter, and of which we shall be obliged to say in sadness and with trembling, " What I have written I have written." It is there stamped upon friends, upon society, upon de- pendents, upon children, upon wife, upon all that have been near my heart or have nestled in my bosom : and I cannot change it. I may mourn over it. I may repent it in dust and ashes. Tears, bitter tears, may have been shed to blot it out. Prayers, earnest prayers, may have been poured out to God for forgiveness. I may have felt the balm of comfort and the assurance of pardon : but still, " What I have writ- ten I have written/' and there it stands forever. It has fallen from my lips ; it has been set down by my pen ; it has been published by my conduct ; my example has given it currency ; it has gone forth, from me : and I cannot arrest it. It was in my power not to have written it in any of these ways : but having done it, it is out of my power to check the evil. My family has drunk it in. The circle of my acquaintance has seized upon it as truth. I now know it to be poison, rank poison : but I myself have infused it into the circulation, and cannot check its fatal progress. I see it extending and extending, like a circle in the waters : and I stand impotent. The law of Nature about which I have been indifferent or ignorant, is working its terrible consequences : and that law is, that an impulse once given must go on until its force is exhausted. And what is there to exhaust the force of evil words, of evil examples, of evil writings, of evil impressions ? They are communicated from mind to mind, and from heart to heart, and from soul 30 What I have written I have written, to soul, unendingly. They begin from me, or from you, and they cleave their evil track through the generations of men : and they find their home in hell. It is amazing that any thinking man can he indifferent about the impressions he is making. If he truly considers this expression, " What I have written I have written," he cannot be careless of the consequences of his simplest words. When I speak, or write, or act : my words, my writ- ings, my deeds, are not thrown upon the desert air, are not dispersed and scattered as the mists of a landscape. They are received into pure and tender minds, — minds made more tender by affection and kindred ; they are taken hold of by hearts, loving hearts, that are trusting to us and resting upon us ; they are caught up by souls, im- mortal souls, which are looking to us for knowledge and culture : and with these they incorporate themselves. They grow into the nature, and we cannot get them out. Child- hood assimilates them. Youth is guided by them. Man- hood teaches them. Whatever that childhood becomes, whatever that youth may lead to, wherever the teachings of that manhood may reach to, or whatever they may end in : I am the responsible party. The evil is upon me. The sin is at my door. That mischief which I see expanding, forever expanding, I set in motion. Alas for me ! " What I have written I have written." And ofttimes we are writing by authority. We are mak- ing utterances (and you must remember that utterances can be made by writing as well as by speaking, by acting as well as by writing, by example as well as by action) which God has commissioned us to set forth as parents, as masters, as teachers, as citizens, as His own commissioned ambassa- dors : and this adds greatly to the terror of those words, " What I have written I have written." When a man has no special authority, the things he writes upon the world What I have written I have written, 31 are not so important, do not carry so much force, have not the immense influence which belongs to those who are stand- ing in the position of domestic or social power. They may do great mischief ; they may be seeds of evil that shall float upon the air and drop their curse hither and thither : yet they are not likely to make the mark which things written by authority do make. But when it can be said, — This is the writing of a Father upon my mind, upon my heart, up- on my affections, upon my imagination, upon all my asso- ciations, upon my soul ; — This is the writing of a Master whom God has set to guide me ; — This is the writing of a Teacher who is given the power to mould me as he can ; — This is the writing of a servant of the Lord, who holds a commission above all others : then can we understand the mighty import of the words, " What I have written I have written." Every thing given forth as opinion, as feeling-, as truth, as example, sinks deeply into the nature. It be- comes a mighty part of the influences which are making up the present and the future of those who surround us. We are graving into the character, we are stamping upon the tender heart, what will remain there for blessing or for curse. We are doing our part towards the making of the generation which is to follow us. We are creating, in a certain sense, the character of the times. We are repro- ducing ourselves in those who are to come after us ; and they will carry us down from generation to generation, onward, onward to the judgment-seat of God. We may choose not to realize this fearful responsibility. We may be unwilling to permit such a load of authority to rest upon our feelings. We may endeavor to laugh it off, or sneer it off, or reason it off ; but it will be in vain. Even in this world, when things begin to go wrong with those over whom we have had authority, — when the poison is begin- 32 What I have written I have written. ning to show itself in outbreaking corruption in children, in servants, among our companions, in society, — the thought will intrude itself, " Is this my writing ? Have I planted the seeds of this perilous evil? Have my opinions, my words, my feelings, my writings, ended in this ? " I say, even in this world, such thoughts will intrude ; but in eter- nity, we shall find still more sternly the unalterable words of truth, — " What I have written I have written." And that indelibility of our writings is the most terrible part of it. We can impress, but we cannot cut out. We can write, but we cannot blot out. We can shape charac- ter, opinion, feeling: but once shaped, we have no more power over them. Man's nature is so arranged, that even reason cannot afterwards modify what has been engrained into character ; that even knowledge cannot scatter the associations of childhood. It is a miserable mistake to look at man as if he were a being governed by his understand- ing. That is by far the least influential portion of his na- ture. He is governed a thousand times more by his feel- ings, by his affections, by those agencies which work upon him through his heart ; and when these have been thor- oughly impregnated in early youth, woe unto what is called reason ! It is a most powerless instrument, weak unto death against such influences as passion, as prejudice, as associa- tion ! We shall all have an account to give. All that we shall have written will remain, and come up against us. Let us therefore consider not only our present view of the writings we have stamped upon man and society, but the view which we shall have to take of them upon a dying bed. When we shall be lying there, we shall feel most intensely the power of those words, " What I have written I have writ- ten." We are then preparing not only to leave them behind What I have written I have written. 33 us as seeds of good or of evil, as impressions which cannot be eradicated : bnt we are preparing to meet them. They remain in the world for all time, and then they follow after us for judgment. What a terrible moment, — that moment, when, lying powerless for all retrieval, we shall be obliged to say, " What I have written I have written. 55 3 •fourth Sermon. And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate ! — ■ 2 Sam. xxiii. 15. TT 0 W richly the spiritual evolves itself out of the natu- ral ! They dwell together, as the soul with the body, spirit within matter ; the one the substance, the other the life; each necessary to the other, each harmonious with the other, each illustrating the other. They coexist every- where ; and while we are not to be led away by fanciful analogies and a crude sentimentalism, a spiritual mind will see in nature, and in its constitution and course, manifold indications of its capacity for spiritual development and spiritual instruction. Our Saviour seized hold of this ar- rangement, and used it again and again in His divine teach- ings. He made the fowls of the air, the lilies of the valley, the corn in its progress from the blade to the ear, the summer sky in its play of light, — all preachers of righte- ousness, by bringing out of their natural developments spiritual lessons of the highest practical value. And His Apostles walked in His footsteps through the same rich field of meditation, and have made plain to us the most abstruse topics of life and immortality, by bringing the obvious pro- cesses of nature to the help of divine revelation. Who can see a grain of wheat planted in the earth, and run in thought through its future phases of development, without thinking of the resurrection of the body with which S. Paul has forever linked it in delightful association ? Who The Well of Bethlehem, 35 can study the organization of the body with its union of comely and uncomely parts, with its necessary subordina- tion yet complete harmony, without remembering the like adjustment of functions in the Church and the State, — those two essentials of happiness for man, — with which the same Apostle has indissolubly connected them ? Who can guide a ship with a rudder, or manage a horse with the bit, without recalling S. James's spiritual use of them in his denunciation of the tongue '? And as they read in nature these rich manifestations, and used them for public instruc- tion, so may we, as we walk amid the works and wonders of God, see Him and His revealed truth in every thing around us. And this is just what we should look for in a world ordered and arranged by Him who gave us His revelation ; for if they did not in harmony develop the like truths, how could they proceed from the same Author ? But we must remember, in our handling of this beautiful principle, that we are not inspired as were Christ and His Apostles, and that we have no authority to derive from nature a new rev- elation. We may study them as they lie infolded together in the arrangements of things ; we may comfort ourselves with the clearness which they unitedly give to infinite ideas ; we may revel in the glories which they flash around the future, as the mind is led step by step through the gorgeous array of nature's most precious gifts up to the Heaven where there shall be no more curse : but we must follow the true laws of logic, and illustrate Xature by Rev- elation, — the typical wisdom of God by the revealed wis- dom. It is a beautiful study, if we are not fanciful ; a very dangerous one, if we keep not the Word of God perpetually in our hands. Mature is always true; but difficult to read, because her greatest truths develop slowly, and mature only after long observation : while Revelation gives us conclu- sions from the Divine Mind, which we can receive at once by 36 The Well of Bethlehem. Faith, or have forced upon us by a bitter experience. And it often happens that an imaginative temperament becomes bewildered by attempting to rest in the religion of Nature ; to look at God only in His poetical and not in His practical aspect ; to worship Him as He manifests Himself as the Architect and Ruler of the Universe : but to reject His teachings when He comes to separate man's obligations and duties from his wishes and fancies. How beautifully is this connection of the natural and the spiritual illustrated in the longing of David for water from the well of Bethlehem ! Bethlehem was his birthplace, the home of his childhood, and the spot around which all his youthful hopes had gathered. Beside that well, he had played as a child. From that well he had quenched his thirst when heated by sport, or wearied with labor. At that well he had watered his sheep at morning and evening, sur- rounded by laughing maidens and joyous youths, when as yet his mind knew no burden and his conscience no sin. And now, wearied with life and tired of struggle, his thoughts recurred to those days of innocence, and to that well whose waters he remembered as the sweetest he had ever drank : "And David longed, and said, Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate ! " That well by the gate, — no other : for none had its associations, none its memories. Other water might be as sparkling, as cool, as pure : but not for him. In that well alone could he see reflected, as in a panorama, all his early life, his days of joy and peace. His heart went out to that spot, and fastened itself upon it with a longing which nothing else could satisfy. And how that longing for the past of our boyhood cleaves to us all ! As age creeps upon us, and we live in recollec- tion more than we do in hope, how the heart goes back to those places and circumstances which became dear to us in The Well of Bethlehem, 57 childhood ! We leap over the intervening gap, and fasten our yearning hearts upon the days which have faded into the distance. And such is life, unless we make it bright with the hopes of eternity. In youth we look forward ; in age we look back. In youth, ardent and joyous, our hearts bound onward to action, as if we should surely find happi- ness there ; in age, wearied and jaded, we go back to our wells of Bethlehem, to drink there and be at peace. And thus life is frittered away between anticipation and regret, because we have not learned that its balance-wheel is in Religion, — in re-union with God. If we fail to make that union, we find that neither youth nor age will satisfy us. In the one we shall be deluded by Hope; in the other we shall be cheated by Memory. God has constituted 11? so, and we cannot get rid of our nature. Without the living presence of God in the soul, we cannot be satisfied in the present. We create an ideal world, when we are young, which we are ever hoping to realize ; and when we are old we permit distance to give enchantment to the view, and to gild all the past with a fictitious glow. Is life worth its struggle under such conditions ? Are we willing to live altogether without realities, and, like chil- dren, to be clutching at the stars or running after the play of the light and the shadow ? We are created for higher things. We were never meant to be at rest amid illusions, nor to spend our time in chasing them. A grand destiny is ours ; and upon that it was designed that we should fix our aims. We might find much to interest us by the way. — much to love and much to enjoy. As we journeyed we might pluck the flowers by the way-side, and drink from the wells of Bethlehem; but God was to be ever before us, as the purpose and end of all our movements. Those vast affec- tions with which God had endowed us were not to be lav- ished upon shadows ; but were given us for the reproduction 38 The Well of Bethlehem. within us of a life which should be eternal because divine, having its centre in God, and its strength through Christ. Those grand faculties of imagination, of hope, of memory, were never designed to waste themselves upon dreams ; but were bestowed upon us for the uses of life, and the gaining of eternity. If we dwell in vain conceptions of the future, or rest in false memories of the past, we are equally untrue to ourselves. We are not grasping the divine idea of man's existence. We are drinking water which will never quench our thirst. We are preparing to lie down in disappointment and sorrow. How that longing of the heart for something we cannot attain, breathes of our divine origin, and our assured im- mortality ! Why is it that our conceptions are always more perfect than our realizations, and that we are never satisfied to live in the stern realities of our true existence ? Every one has his dream, his fancy, his hope. Every one sits pen- sive at times, and builds castles in the air. Every one has an inner life which no one reads but himself, and which goes on within his outer life, a wheel within a wheel. While we toil and labor, we are dreaming. While encom- passed by the ordinary routine of every-day life, we are in some fairy land of the heart or the imagination. What we are obliged to do in the way of labor or duty, we do me- chanically in the sight of the world, and let it see the prose of our existence : its poetry we keep for ourselves ; and thus have always a witness within ourselves that we are more than we seem to be, are born of a higher nature, are in- tended for a sublimer sphere. And as these dreams are successively scattered by the experience of life, — if we have not found God in Christ, and taken that Keality home to us, — we turn to the past, and long with David : " Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Beth- lehem, which is by the gate ! " The Well of Bethlehem. 39 But there is a much deeper meaning in that wish of David than is contained in the train of thought which I have been pursuing. David was a prophet, and saw in his spirit the fulfillment of that prediction of Micah, then not as yet even uttered, " But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel ; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting." 1 And God's Spirit, as he lay there, old, faint and wearied, showed him in vision that Fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness in the house of David, and made him to hear that Voice which declared to the woman of Samaria : " Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: but. whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst ; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into ever- lasting life." 2 And this water was typified by the well of Bethlehem. And while the Psalmist's body longed for the water in the well by the gate, and his mind clustered all its rich memories and associations around it : his spirit was longing for a draught of that divine Love which should quench all the desires of the unsatisfied heart. Even as Job, in his misery, cried out for a Mediator long before He had come, saying, " Oh that I knew where I might find him ! that I might come even to his seat ! " 3 so did David, in the solitariness of his spirit, cry out for water from that Well which yet lay hidden from the knowledge of man. His lips, his affections, his soul, all longed for water from that Well of Bethlehem, — true foreshadowing of the unquenched thirst which still haunts the children of men. How often man longs secretly for spiritual water from this Well of Bethlehem, and lets his want die unknown i Micah v. 2. 2 g, John iv. 13, 14. 3 Job xxiii. 3. 40 The Well of Bethlehem. within him ! He sighs for something he has never had : and he offctimes knows not what it is. It is a craving at the heart for something that will fill his desires : and he cannot find it. He supposes it to arise from some crook in his lot, from some disease of temperament, from some ill discipline of his character : when, all the while, it has its origin in the soul, of which he has taken no account. Body and mind are all he has been accustomed to consider ; and when he can find no remedy for his longing in any change he can administer to them, he thinks his case to he hopeless. His philosophy is as much at fault as his religion. He has left out of his calculation the highest constituent of his heing : and yet hopes to he satisfied. When he has furnished food for his hody, and literary or scientific nourish- ment for his mind, and ohjects of an earthly kind for his affections, he thinks that he has done every thing which he can for the satisfaction of his nature : and yet he, an im- mortal creature, has left hoth God and his soul without any consideration. He has made no provision forever for that part of his nature which is its living part. For that which is corruptible and dying, he has exhausted luxury and pushed science to its utmost verge of development : but that which is incorruptible and undying, which is the breath of the Al- mighty, which is to expand in greatness through eternal ages, is left, without any spiritual food, to pine and perish from utter inanition. And yet the man who does this, won- ders that there is some unsatisfied longing in the heart, some inward burning wish for " water of the well " of some Bethlehem, that might revive his hopes. Why, my beloved hearer, it is your soul longing for God ; craving to be united once again to the Eternal Being from whom it sprang; forcing upon you, if peradventure you may understand, its claims to your notice, its influence upon your happiness for time as well as for eternity. May you listen to it ; may you The Well of Bethlehem. 41 recognize the voice of the Divinity speaking" within you; may you learn, ere it be too late, at what fountain its thirst may be quenched, and its guilt washed out ; and may your feelings find utterance in the burning words of David : " Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate ! " You can satisfy your longing, my immortal fellow-crea- ture, at no other fountain than this of Bethlehem. It is God's Holy Spirit that is causing you to feel that longing for something higher and holier than you have yet attained ; and it is God's Son giving you to drink of the Water of Life which alone can satisfy your soul. Unless you can procure water from that Well, you must perish in your un- satisfied condition. Nothing but the Spirit of God can quench the thirst of the spirit of man. And thanks be to the grace and mercy of God, that Water is offered to every thirsty creature ; and gushes a free, rich, abundant stream of love and peace. When David uttered this wish, the well of Bethlehem was in the hands of the Philistines, his ene- mies ; and his valiant men of war were forced to risk their lives to fulfill his desire. But this Well-spring of Christ, springing up into everlasting life, can be approached with- out fear and without hindraDce. Christ has conquered all the enemies who made it unapproachable ; and every one, — the poorest, and the meanest, and the most degraded, and the most sinful — can come and drink of it, and be at peace. Come all ye that are thirsty, all ye that are weary, all ye that would know God, all ye that would fulfill the purpose of God in your creation : and drink, and go your way rejoicing ! And do not we, my fellow-Christians, who have drank of the water of that Well of Bethlehem, often utter in our moments of spiritual declension : " Oh that one would give me to drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which 42 The Well of Bethlehem. is by the gate ! " In the early years of our Christian expe- rience, we were wont to go daily to that Well for refresh- ment. Whenever joyous, we went there and found our loved companions happy in its satisfying waters. Whenever wearied, we went there and found our fainting fellow-pil- grims reviving under its influence. Morning and evening we carried there all our cares, and all our burdens; and they lost their weight when we had drank its strength- ening waters. It was the resort we loved most ; and oh, how pleasant were those days of our early love, — how full of innocence and peace ! But, like David, we have been separated, perhaps, from the water of that Well, first by our own sins, and then by the powerful enemies who seem to stand between us and its waters. The battle of life has carried us away from it. The cares, the anxieties, the col- lisions of the world, have changed the Christian into the man of war, or the man of many cares : and now, wearied and battered, our hearts turn in earnest longing to our first Christian love, to our haunts by that blessed Fountain, to the refreshing and comforting draughts we have quaffed from its waters, and the wish comes back to us, " Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Beth- lehem, which is by the gate ! " And why, my fellow-Chris- tian, should you wish in vain? Like David you may be hedged about for the moment. Lions may seem to lie crouching between you and the object of your wish. En- emies may look fierce upon you, and threaten you if you dare to approach it. But fear not ! David's wish procured it for him, through all these hindrances ; and your prayers will obtain it for you, if you will cry to God in earnest. " Fear not, 0 Jacob, my servant," is His language through the Prophet Isaiah, " and thou, Jesurun, whom I have chosen. For I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground." 1 All that He requires is i Isaiah xliv. 2, 3. The Well of Bethlehem. 43 that you bring with, you a contrite spirit and a longing heart, — a soul lamenting its departure from God, and craving for the water of the Well of Bethlehem. If you will act in the spirit of the backsliding children of Israel, and say, " Come, and let us return unto the Loed : for he hath torn, and he will heal us • he hath smitten, and he will bind us up. After two days will he revive us : in the third day he will raise us up, and we shall live in his sight. Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord : his going forth is prepared as the morning ; and he shall come unto us as the rain, as the latter and the former rain unto the earth." 1 1 Hosea vi. 1-3. tftftlj pennon. For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ : for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth ; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek. — Romans i. 16. TT required two of the most elaborate chapters of Gib- I) on's gorgeous work to display the grandeur and mag- nificence of the Roman Empire under Augustus and his immediate successors. With all that we may have seen of modern luxury, and all that we may have imagined of con- centrated power, we find it difficult to grasp the conception which he there labors to embody, — the conception of the whole civilized world united under a great military despotism, with Rome as its heart, from which went forth the irresistible decrees of power, and to which flowed back, through innumerable, well-ordered channels, all that wealth and luxury and art could furnish for its adornment and glory. The world has never since seen so imperial a city ; and pilgrims innumerable still wander there to muse amid its unrivalled ruins, and dream of the greatness of the past. It combined every thing which could win for it veneration among its dependent provinces, which would make them look with awe upon even its fashions and opin- ions. It had the prestige of conquest, — nation after na- tion, the most powerful and the most distant, having passed under its yoke, and confessed its dominion. It was envel- oped in that illusion which pomp and show cast around their presence, especially when they surround the palaces of a successful monarch and a time-honored nobility. It Not ashamed of the Gospel. 45 was the focus of literature and of art, the point whither every thing tended which might minister to the senses or the tastes of men. Rome was the Empire : every thing out- side of its walls was provincial. To be great at Eome was to be great at the remotest extremities of the world : to meet the contempt of Rome was to ensure the contempt of all that depended upon her. Her smile was power ; her approbation was influence ; her condemnation withered the hopes of statesmen, of orators, of poets, of philosophers. To go up to Rome from the provinces and face its opinion, — to plunge into that roaring vortex of the wise, the thoughtful, the educated, the luxurious, the powerful, and promulge a new and unheard-of doctrine, — demanded not only a mighty confidence of Truth, but a physical nerve over and above the Truth. It was like casting a die for reputation and for life. If it succeeded, it ensured popu- larity and power. If it failed, it brought down unmeasured ridicule, and perhaps personal destruction. No wonder, then, that when S. Paul was contemplating a visit to Rome, — was about to preach the novel doctrines of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in this seat of power and of sensuality, — he should have prepared his heart for the struggle, and that some glimpses of hat preparation should manifest themselves in passages of the Epistle which he wrote to the Christians in that place before he had ever visited them. It is one of these glimpses which furnishes the text for my sermon, — one which draws from him the remarkable disclaimer of being ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. Having been hindered again and again, by providential circumstances, in his intention of visiting Rome, he seems to have feared that the Christians there might suppose that he was kept away from shame ; that he was unwilling to proclaim the new and despised doctrines of the Cross in that centre of Roman influence. 46 Not ashamed of the Gospel. " Now I would not have you ignorant, brethren," is the language of his explanation, " that oftentimes I purposed to come unto you (but was let hitherto), that I might have some fruit among you also, even as among other Gentiles. I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Barbarians ; both to the wise, and to the unwise. So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the Gospel to you that are at Rome also. For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ : for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth ; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek." 1 It was not the ridicule which it might cost him that hindered his coming. It was that the Spirit of God had not yet opened the way for him, — that way which afterwards carried him there a prisoner and an appellant to the throne of the Caesars. How little the world understands the difficulty which there is in preaching the Gospel ! — the struggle which the human heart undergoes in setting forth publicly and faithfully those revealed truths which constitute what the Scripture calls " the foolishness of preaching." It is easy enough to be a philosopher or an essayist. S. Paul would have found no cause for shame or contempt in announcing from Mars 5 Hill at Athens, or from the tribune at Rome, some novel or eclectic scheme of philosophy, — in uttering any piece of human conception, however wild or fanciful. Man will listen patiently to man's inventions. He will weigh and consider the arguments and reasonings of his fellow-creature, so long as there is any show of reason, and even when there is none. But when you leave the sphere of intellect, and attempt to take him into that of Revelation, he mocks. And it is not only the hearer who rebels against spiritual truth ; it is the preacher himself who feels the temptation strong upon him to avoid the i Rom. i. 13-16. Not ashamed of the Gospel. 47 Cross of Christ, and to dwell upon the evidences of Ee- ligion, where he may reason ; or the morals of Christ, which the common sense of mankind in a manner ap- proves ; or the practice of life, which comes home to one's every-day feelings and occupations. In these days of al- most universal Christianity, when the Church of Christ is a power in the earth, and the Ministers of the Church are respected and esteemed, the question which suggests itself to most minds upon hearing my text announced, is : " Why should Paul have been ashamed to preach the Gospel any- where? What is there in such glorious truth that any man should shun to declare it to all the world P " And when the answer is returned, that it was a novelty in the world ; that it was contrary to all the received philosophy of the times ; that it was exclusive and aggressive : such answers are deemed to be sufficient. As if there was any more temptation to be ashamed then, than there is now ; as if the doctrines of the Cross have ceased to be an offence 5 as if it is not just as unpalatable now-a-days to be dependent upon the grace of God and the mercy of Christ for salvation as it ever was ! No, my hearer. The answer to that question lies much deeper, — stretches down into the unbelief of the natural heart, and finds its solution there. What tempted S. Paul to be ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, and what tempts me as his successor, and you as a Christian, to be ashamed of that same Gos- pel, is the natural antagonism which there is in fallen human nature to any thing which comes from God in Christ. It is not a thing to be reasoned about ; contro- versy can make it no plainer, nor any the more intelli- gible. The Scripture declaration that " the carnal mind " — that is, the heart which is born with a man before the renewal of the Holy Ghost — " is enmity against God," 1 1 Rom. viii. 7. 48 Not ashamed of the Gospel. covers the whole ground. Sin has made it so : and sin keeps it so, until the power of the Holy Ghost subdues that sin, and gives Christ the dominion ! It is a thing that you all feel and know, — not that you hate God, for that none of you would admit : but that you despise, so long as you are unconverted, what is called " doctrinal preaching " — a dwelling upon the Atonement, and upon Regeneration, and upon Justification, and upon Blood as the great cleanser and purifier of the nature. And if you despise these doc- trines, what are they but the Gospel ? What are they but the very topics which are the glad tidings of great joy ? You complain that you cannot understand them ; that they are unintelligible (the very thing which the Apostle tells us you would say) ; that they are foolishness (the very words of the Apostle again) : and if they are pressed, — why, then the preacher is " a fool " : or if his standing be too high for that, " a fanatic." And when we who preach the Gospel know all this, is there no temptation to be ashamed of the Gospel of Christ ? — no allurement to pass over these great and saving truths, and win your admira- tion by rhetoric and philosophy ? There is enormous temp- tation : for, besides the crucifixion which it really is to our- selves to force upon unwilling ears ungracious topics, there are plausible arguments enough to be found why we should offer you other themes, and dwell more upon the duties of life than on the doctrines of Christianity. But while there is this temptation to preach morals rather than doctrine, philosophy rather than Christianity, we must nerve ourselves, as faithful Ministers of the Word, against this shame ; because this very Gospel " is the power of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth." It is all in Christianity that has any power. The rest of the system has no more power than any other scheme of morals or philosophy. What power, for example, had the philoso- Not ashamed of the Gospel. 49 phy of Socrates over his age and nation ? I do not ask you what intellectual force it had, but what 'power had it in re- straining individuals or in leavening the mass, in even those things which related to the conduct of this life ? And surely it could have none upon the salvation of the soul, when it left his most accomplished disciples doubtful about even that soul's immortality ! And what power had the ethical philosophy of Cicero over his times ? The moral philosophers of Rome were very remarkable men in their way, — unfolded the topics which they handled with great clearness and completeness ; and yet what power had they? Just none at all : and their compatriots went plunging on in sensuality and lust, until Rome presented such a picture at the incoming of Christianity as man has never seen since, as the normal condition of his race. Well, if Chris- tianity had not conjoined with it this power of God unto sal- vation, its morals, and what might be called its philosophy, should have no more influence in leavening the world than that of antiquity. What man needs is not advice, is not instruction in mere worldly duty, is not a constant lectur- ing upon what he ought to do, or what he ought not to do : but it is power to operate upon the will, to make it desire to do right ; and then power to enable it to do right. It would be very idle for me to employ myself twice every Lord's day in telling such a congregation as you are, about the duties of life. You know them quite as well as I do ; and if that was all of Christianity, I should be very glad to sit at the feet of many of you, and listen to your instructions. But when the pulpit is fulfilling its true design, — is calling you to repentance for sins against God of which you are not conscious, and to faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, that you may receive power from on high to subdue sin, — then it assumes a very different aspect. It becomes then a very distinct instrument for 4 5irtl) pennon He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night ? Watchman, what of the night ? The watchman said, The morn- ing cometh, and also the night : if ye will inquire, inquire ye : re- turn, come. — Isaiah xxi. n, 12. 11 /TETHINKS it would strike a thoughtful man, when his mind rested upon Christianity, for how long God had been answering, through His commissioned watch- men, the question of our text. If the religion which speaks from the Word of God was a thing of yesterday, a man might reasonably put it aside as unworthy of much consid- eration. But when, however far back he may pierce into the depths of antiquity, he shall find the watchman stand- ing upon the walls of Zion, and replying to the anxious question of bewildered reason, he may well pause and pon- der over the startling fact. If he could get rid of it by running it up through a few years, or even a few centuries, until it was lost in obscurity, he might plausibly say, that God would not have delayed so long a Revelation which was meant for the world. But the unbeliever has no such refuge as this. If he be honest and true, he will find Revelation cleaving to him through all the changes of the world's history, exhibiting its landmarks wherever his researches may lead him, with a faithful watchman for every age, with an earnest invita- tion for every period since the Creation. Christianity is not like the false religions of the earth, whose origin and whose authors can be fixed in the mid ages of the world : 56 Watchman, what of the Night? but already have eighteen hundred years rolled away since it received its fullest development, and was unfolded in perfectness to man. That period, when we have reached it, is called " the fullness of times," — " the latter days." From that point we ascend four hundred years, beyond the time of the Macedonian conqueror : and the Scriptures which enfolded all the promise and prophecy of the Old Dispensation are closed and sealed, waiting in silence the coming of the Messiah. Even at that remote period enough had been said by the watchman to satisfy the questions of man, and to close up and seal the prophecy. And if we open that volume, what a vista spreads away be- fore us, carrying us up beyond Babylon and Nineveh and Troy, and the fabled Argonauts : while yet Isaiah, and David, and Samuel, and Joshua, were uttering immortal truth, and looking with bright-eyed hope for the coming Redeemer. And when we pass beyond any thing which even human monuments can tell us, though dug from their sepulchre of ages, we still meet Moses, and Job, and Abraham, and Noah, and the men before the Flood, rest- ing upon the promises of that Christ whom we worship to-day. Unbelief, if it travel the path of history, will be sorely harassed. It will meet its enemy at every point. If it take Christianity upon its own hypothesis, — that it is the flower of which Judaism was the bud, — it will find a watchman wherever it turns, who will cry to it : " The morning cometh, and also the night ; if ye will inquire, in- quire ye : return, come." And should not this arrest any man of reason ? Should he not pause until he has satisfied himself about this unique phenomenon? Before he can rationally pass on with indifference, he must account for the origin, the growth, the permanence of this persistent scheme ; he must explain how that which was wrapped up in dark, Watchman, what of the Night ? 57 mysterious prophecies, canie all to be developed to tlie very letter of tlie record ; how that which was the literature of a peculiar nation, chanced to be all spiritual, and true to the necessities of human nature ; how, while scorned and rejected by the world until the moment when Prophecy foretold that it would expand, it was taken to the heart of humanity, and cherished as its comfort, its life, its hope ; how, as the world continues to change, this religion alone is unchangeable ; how, while kingxloins and nations perish and pass away, this Christianity perishes not ; how the re- ligious utterances of men as unlike us in every thing exter- nal as the Prophets and Kings of Israel, should be the very words in which we have this day, and in this holy temple, poured out before God our religious feeliugs. Could we use here the spiritual language of the Greeks and Romans — if they had any spiritual language — with- out jarring upon your feelings, and desecrating the holi- ness of this sanctuary '? And yet they were much younger nations than the Hebrews, and far more assimilated to the world. Christianity may drive you off by the sternness of its requisitions, and the purity of its life ; but history, tra- dition, the monuments of the past, and, above all, your own divine thirst, will force you back, and impel you to ask of the divine watchman, " Watchman, what of the night ? " When this question was asked out of Seir, it was asked in reference to the heavy burden of prophecies which lay upon that devoted country, — those prophecies which predicted, when she was yet in the pride of her power and the abun- dance of her riches, that Edom should be a desolation. It may have been asked in scorn ; it may have been asked in faith ; no matter which : the answer was alike suitable to both : " The morning cometh," — the morning of light and peace and opportunity ; " and also the night," — the night of trouble and calamity. As one has beautifully ex- 5 8 Watchman, what of the Night ? pressed it : " Is it night ? Yet the morning comes, and the dayspring knows his place. Is it day ? Yet the night comes, and darkness steals over the world." It is thus in nature, thus in life, thus in spiritual things. Would to God, my beloved people, that you could be aroused even so far as to ask your watchman, " What of the night ? " He is set over you by the Lord. His duty is to see that you are warned of peril to your souls ; his pleasure to answer truly, when you ask your condition while encompassed by the deep uncertainty of the present and of the future. His position is one of deep responsi- bility to you, of serious peril to himself. The Word of the Lord to every Minister is this : " Son of man, I have made thee a watchman unto the house of Israel : therefore hear the word at my mouth, and give them warning from me. When I say unto the wicked, Thou shalt surely die ; and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his life ; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity ; but his blood will I require at thine hand." 1 You hear my peril, if I tell you not the plain truth. Now listen to yours : 66 Yet if thou warn the wicked, and he turn not from his wickedness, nor from his wicked way, he shall die in his iniquity ; but thou hast delivered thy soul." 2 This is our relation, — one cre- ated by God, — one irrevocable in its nature, and eternal in its results, — one that will follow us both to the Judgment- seat of Christ. And while such a relation, so solemn and so comprehensive, exists between us, we hold it in the midst of corruption, of infirmity, of temptation, of dark- ness. We should despair, unless the light of the glorious Gospel of Jesus Christ had ushered in a morning, during which we might return to God, and come back to the Father from whom we had wandered, reckless prodigals ! 1 Ezekiel iii. 17, 18. Ibid. 19. Watchman, what of the Night ? 59 When one ont of Seir asked this question, " What of the night ? " Christ had not yet risen, full-orbed, upon a sinful world. The sky was brightening over Israel ; the rays of prophecy were all converging and becoming a light in a dark place : but the morning, the glorious morning, was only coming. And even then, when the watchman dared only to answer with the voice of promise and of hope, " The morning cometh : if ye will inquire, inquire ye," he felt himself constrained to add, " and also the night." As if he said, " I can cheer you with the promise of a coming Saviour; there are the beams of light thick gathering in the chambers of the East. I can enliven this darkness with glad tidings of great joy for you and for all mankind ; tidings of redemption, of time and opportunity for repent- ance, of the glorious hope of everlasting life. But beyond that, I see approaching another night, darker than this ; a night wherein no man can work ; in whose blackness of darkness no watchman shall walk his solitary round and cry, £ All's well ; ' where there shall be no question and no answer, no life, no peace, no hope ; but all shall be swal- lowed up in the wrath of the Lamb. Therefore I cry unto you, c If ye will inquire, inquire ye : return, come.' " Should the question be asked to-day, the watchman would answer, " The morning is come." The Sun of Righteous- ness has arisen upon a world lying in darkness, and there is all around us the bright shining of truth and of salvation. It flashes upon us from every thing in society, just as the rays of the glorious orb of day are reflected to us from every object in nature, the minutest as well as the grandest, the grain of sand and the drop of water equally with the moun- tain top and the ocean's bosom. Milton's prayer, when through his blindness he would see the visions of the Al- mighty, " What in me is dark, illumine ; what is low, raise and support," has been granted to the world by Christianity, 6o Watchman, what of the Night? and comes assured to our feelings as well as our reason. Christ lias sanctified every relation of life, even while he was modifying the civilization of the world. He has exalted poverty, and sorrow, and humility, and made them the ve- hicles of his richest blessings, at the same moment that He was scattering the vain philosophy of the schools, and was overturning the temples and shrines of paganism. " Ob- jects remain, and relations are still unbroken," is the rich language of Butler, " but new and lovely lights and shad- owings cover them. They move in the same directions as before, but under an atmosphere impregnated with brighter hues, and rich with a light that streams direct from Heaven." This then, my hearer, is your opportunity. Light is all around you. Truth is sown broadcast. Hope spreads her glittering wings above you. Society, home, your own un- quenchable desires, your own thick coming affections, all call you to Christ. You have no need of the watchman to tell you of the morning. The Gospel cannot be hid from you ; it seems impossible. Why, it is a part of all you are, and all you love. It is the foundation of your happiness and your peace. Even while you do not see it, you are feel- ing it in every pulse of your manhood. Even while you are indifferent to it, it is adorning your own nature, and show- ering blessings upon your ungrateful head ! Oh ! it cannot be hid from you, — it is too palpable in its glories and its wonders ! Oh ! let it not be hid ; for " if our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost : in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them." 1 Are you then among the lost ? Having eyes, can you not see P Having ears, can you not hear ? Is your heart stone, that you can- i 2 Cor. iv. 4. Watchman, what of the Night? 61 not feel ? Am I ploughing' with oxen upon a rock ? God forbid ! Try and see. Try and feel. Put not yourselves in the fearful category of the lost. Let not the bright rays of the morning shine upon you without imparting to you their warmth and cheerfulness. Let not nature and man rejoice in sympathy with God, while you have no part in the divine harmony. Let not the voice of adoration swell from the choirs of the universe, from angels and archangels, and the redeemed of every nation and kindred and tribe and people, and yours be one of discord and of shame. Now is your opportunity, — " the accepted time," " the day of sal- vation." Let the Dayspring which has arisen upon the world arise in your hearts, and bathe them in the sunlight of heaven ! This is your opportunity ; but even as the watchman an- swered, " The morning cometh," he added, " and also the night." Oh ! how true, — how true in every thing ! How bright the morning is ! How every thing is rejoicing around us ! How the blue heavens seem liquid with happiness ! How the leaves of the forest quiver in the sunlight as if they were dancing for joy ! How the birds are caroling their morning hymns, and sending their unconscious music up to the throne of God ! How vigorous is man, as he treads the earth in the pride of his manhood, drinking in the healthful sunshine, and reflecting it back upon every thing*, as if in the superfluity of his blessings ! But the night cometh ! Nothing can keep it from following the morning : — not the glory of heaven ; not the rejoicing forests ; not the music of the birds ; not the pride nor happiness of man. It is the ordination of nature ! Night must settle over the morning ; darkness must follow light ; obscurity must take the place of brightness, and blot out all the beauties of the day. And it is not confined to nature. Darkness treads upon the heels of joy in the moral world. " If a man live 62 Watchman, what of the Night? many years," says the wise Preacher, " and rejoice in them all ; yet let him remember the days of darkness ; for they shall be many." 1 No matter, my hearer, how bright your morning may be, the night cometh also. No matter how long that brightness may continue, be not deceived : the night cometh also. Are you exulting in youth, and beauty, and the freshness of life : " Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth ; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes : 2 but know thou " that " the night cometh also ; " — the night of sickness, the night of sorrow, the night of death, the night of the grave ! Are you nestled in quiet happiness in the bosom of your own home, finding your peace and your rest in the hearts of the loved ones who cluster around your hearthstone, and make it redolent with love ? Oh ! if there is sunlight upon earth, it is there. It has more the impress of heaven than any other image upon earth. But even there " the night cometh also." Art thou rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing? Is the morning shining brightly upon thy overflowing barns, and are its rays glancing gayly from thy silver and thy gold ? " The night cometh also," when, if it has not been devoted to the glory of God and the uses of mercy, " your riches will be corrupted, and your garments motheaten, and your gold and your silver cankered 5 and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire : " 3 when you shall hear the solemn cry, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee." 4 Are you a Christian, a professed follower of the Lord Jesus Christ ? Is it morning with your soul ? Is all light there ? Are you saying with David, " In thy light shall I see light ? " 5 Christian, the night cometh also : the night 1 Eccles. xi. 8. 2 Ibid. 9. 3 S. James v. 3. * S. Luke xii. 20. 5 Psalm xxxvi. 9. Watchman, what of the Night / 63 when no man can work ; the night when darkness mar rest upon the soul ; the night when your dying bed shall he the scene of unutterable struggles between vour spirit and the Spirit of God. Oh ! think of these things, ye that hear me this day ; and, while the light is with you. return and come. " Give glory to the Loed your God, before he cause dark- ness, and before your feet stumble upon the dark mountains, and, while ye look for light, he turn it into the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness/' 1 " If ye will inquire, inquire ye : " so answered the watch- man to him that questioned out of Seir ; and so answer I. Inquire ! — inquire into every thing I have told you this day, and all the days that shall have to be accounted for between us. Christianity fears no inquiry conducted in a logical and earnest spirit. It dreads only indifference and the spirit of the scorner. It has been subjected all along its course to the most searching and malicious inquiry. — inquiry sug- gested by the devil, and carried on in the spirit of the devil, with the bitter hatred of the crucified Jesus : and it has survived it all. " They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure." 2 Inquire into it, — its history, its prophecy, its wonderful development, its divine moral and spiritual fea- tures, its suitableness to your own nature : and it will rise triumphant from the search. Let not your days slip away in apathy and unmovableness. That is your danger : not pos- itive unbelief, but to-morrow — to-morrow — to-morrow. " Go to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain : whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life ? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." 3 And inquire, likewise, into the experience of life. If the days of darkness have never yet come upon you, inquire of 1 Jer. xiii. 16. 2 Psalm cii. 26. 3 S. James iv. 13, LL 64 Watchman, what of the Night ? your neighbors and friends whether the night does not come also. Go from house to house, and search and see if there be one in which there has been perpetual morning. The mournful answer which the stories and the rafters will give you, if the master refuses to unfold his griefs, will tell you that " the night cometh also." And when you have inquired and are satisfied, then re- turn to the Father from whose love you have wandered. Take up your pilgrim's staff, and, armed with the resolution of going to your Father and confessing your sins, tread the way back. It may be a rugged, thorny way, that way of repentance ; but it leadeth to everlasting life. It may be a way of humiliation and sorrow; but it leadeth to our Father's house, where are peace and joy for evermore. Return, come ! The voice of love is calling to you from Bethlehem, and Gethsemane, and Calvary ! Its accents are " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 1 Come now, while the light of morn- ing is leaping upon the mountains : for this same loving Saviour said, "Yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you : for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth." 2 1 S. Matt. xi. 28. 2 S. John xii. 35. ^efccntl) Sermon. The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast not/wig to draw with, and the well is deep : from whence then hast thou that livi?ig water ? — S. John iv. n. i^\XE day," say the Arabs, " King Xinirod summoned into his presence his three sons. He ordered three urns, under seal, to be set before them. One of the urns was of gold, another of amber, and the third of clay. The king bade the eldest of his sons to choose among these urns that which appeared to him to contain the treasure of greatest price. He chose the vase of gold, on which was written the word Empire j he opened it, and found it full of blood. The second took the vase of amber, whereon was written the word Glory ; he opened it, and found it full of the ashes of men who had made a great figure in the world. The third son took the remaining vase, that of clay. He opened it, and found it quite empty ; but on the bottom the potter had inscribed the word God. 6 Which of these vases is worth the most ? 5 asked the king of his courtiers. The men of ambition replied, it was the vase of gold ; the poets and conquerors, that it was the amber one ; the wise men, that it was the empty yase, because a single letter of the name of God was of more worth than the whole world." How beautifully this legend illustrates the judgment of the world in regard to Truth. They search for it, and think they have grasped it, when they have laid their hands upon the vases of gold and the vases of amber, — when they have sat at the feet of the great men of the earth, the Con- 5 66 The Well of Living Water. querors, tlie Poets, the Philosophers, the Statesmen. They take it for granted that if there is wisdom, it must be found with those ; that if there is truth, it must be hid- den somewhere among their treasures. They turn away from the vases of clay, never dreaming that the name of God may be written upon them ; they turn away from the humble of heart, from the meek in spirit, from the suffer- ing, from the lowly, from those to whom God is speaking in silence and in sorrow, who are working out Truth in the only way by which it can be won, — through the chastened experience of life. These, with whom God loves to dwell, they pass unnoticed. Nothing attracts them there. The well of Truth is deep, and these seem to have nothing to draw with. They press on, and instead of water to quench their immortal thirst, they find blood; instead of food which shall endure unto eternal life, they find ashes ! And yet, methinks, God should have taught all Christian men, through the life of His Son, where to seek for truth. " I am the Truth," 1 said Christ : and Christ was " meek and lowly in heart." 2 "I am the Truth," said Christ : and Christ was " a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." 3 " I am the Truth," said Christ : and Christ was " brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and opened not his mouth." 4 " I am the Truth," said Christ ; and He bowed His head and cried, " Not my will, but Thine, 0 God, be done ! " 5 It seems strange, with such indications as these, that man should not know where to seek for Truth, — that he should be at all at a loss about the conditions of human life in which he should be most likely to find it. To discover Truth, we must walk in the footsteps of Truth ; and they lead, in this world, through paths from which human nature shrinks, unless it be sincerely earnest. The disciple 1 S. John xiv. 6. 2 S. Matt. xi. 29. 8 Isaiah liii. 3. 4 Isaiah liii. 7. 6 S. Luke xxii. 42. The Well of Living Water. 67 must be satisfied if lie be as his Master ; and this Master we have introduced to us in the story from which niv text is taken, as a weary traveller, seated upon Jacob's well, alone and thirsty, having nothing to draw with, while the well was deep, and the water unattainable. The conversation which took place under these circum- stances is full of interest and instruction. " There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water : Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria ? for the J ews have no deal- ing's with the Samaritans. Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water. The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep : from whence then hast thou that living water ? " This is the question of man in all generations to Jesus Christ. " The well is deep, — the well of Truth ; thou art, to all appearance, an obscure man, of an obscure nation. To the eye of sense, thou hast nothing to draw with. Thou hast neither philosophy, — for we know not thy school; nor power, — for thy father was a carpenter ; nor glory, — for thou diedst a felon's death ; nor riches, — for thou hadst not where to lay thy head : from whence then hast thou that living water, — that truth which is to be a fountain within us, opening up into everlasting life ? We know not truth, unless it comes to us from the wise, or the mighty, or the noble of this world. We look for it where glory illumines the path, where gold glitters in its dust, where learning stains it with its sweat, where poetry and philoso- phy strew it with their creations. Thou art only a vase of clay. Should we take the trouble to unseal thee, we should 68 The Well of Living Water, find thee empty." And the world sweeps on, never dream- ing that the Almighty potter has written the name of GOD upon that humble, weary, thirsty wayfarer. Our Saviour, as He sat upon that well, was both man and God. As man, He was, like man, powerless to reach the water in that well of Truth : it was deep, and He had noth- ing to draw with. He could see it lying far beneath Him, calm and pure. He could perceive heaven in its bosom, re- flected as in a mirror. He thirsted for it with an unquench- able thirst : but all in vain. It was there, — but not for Him ; not for Him, at least, in that way, and under those circumstances. It had been there from the beginning, and man had always longed for it : but it seemed unattainable. Many a traveller, weary and thirsty, had come to it as to a shrine : but not one had ever drawn water from its depths. Each one had gazed into its beauteous face, had seen heaven there, had stretched out his hands that he might clutch it, and carry it to his burning lips : but they all grasped emp- tiness, for the name of God had not yet been written upon it. Truth was not yet for man. The fullness of times was not yet come : and philosophy speculated in vain, and poetry created in vain, and wisdom cried in vain at her portal. There was no answer. Man described truth, bedizened truth, counterfeited truth, adored truth : but all that was very (lif- erent from drinking it in, and assimilating it to himself. Yet this was what man wanted, — truth as a satisfying real- ity, as a substantive good which should enter into his being, and become a part of his nature, and give him assurance of everlasting life. All this Christ represented, in His human nature, as He sat upon the brink of that deep well. He was the type of fallen man, weary and thirsty, with the water gushing in his sight, and nothing wherewith he might reach it. Sad image of our condition : until He came and gave us another side to the picture. The Well of Living Water. 69 The vase of clay, which the woman of Samaria saw there, had the name of GOD written upon it ! He looked like any other man ; He was weary like any other man ; He was thirsty like any other man : but He was nevertheless God ! He might be poor ; He might be obscure ; He might be suffering : but nevertheless, He was God. And as God, Truth was His own, grew in His own bosom, was the very essence of His Nature. He needed not to draw for it out of any well, not even the well of Jacob. It was a fountain forever gushing within Himself, wherewith He might sup- ply all that should come. " If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldst have asked of him, and he would have giveu thee living water." What glad tidings for man ! No more vain hunting after truth ; no more vain yearning after its pure refreshing waters ; no more sitting and gazing into that deep well, from which we have nothing that can sat- isfy us. Here is a man — a man like ourselves — who is Himself the Truth ; who will give us, for the asking, enough to create within ourselves a well-spring, springing up into everlasting life. " Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst ; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." And how lovingly he calls us to that divine Fountain ! His prophet had foreseen it when he sang, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters ; " 1 had foreseen this very Man of Sorrows, opening a fountain in the house of David : but He Himself pro- claimed it on that day when the Israelites sang their joy- ful thanksgiving: "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid : for the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also is become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of 1 Isaiah lv. 1. jo The Well of Living Water. salvation." 1 " In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink." 2 What a blessed conjunction of Natures ! — as man, sit- ting upon the well of Truth, as cheerless as any of us, hav- ing nothing to draw with : but as God, having Truth at his command, and ready to bestow it upon every one who will ask for it as becomes a thirsty, dying creature. Why, oh ! why will not man lay aside his pride and his unbelief, and come to the feet of this loving human Brother, and receive the treasures of His wisdom ? Because, like the Samaritan woman, he thinks that truth can come only out of earthly wells ; and whenever Christ proffers him truth, his question is, " Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep ; from whence then hast thou that living water ? " And this brings up, as you perceive, the whole question of a Revelation. The Jews had this trouble very early in our Saviour's ministry. When He had been teaching* in the synagogues, speaking as never man spake, they " were astonished and said, Whence hath this man this wisdom, and these mig'hty works ? Is not this the carpenter's son ? (the vase of clay, you see ; — that was the difficulty ! ) is not his mother called Mary ? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas ? And his sisters, are they not all with us? (still harping upon the clay). Whence then hath this man all these things? And they were offended in him. " 3 How soon it began ! — and it has never ceased, and never will cease. It is the question of Unbelief ; and unbelief never dies, — unbelief in a God that cares for His creatures, that will provide for His creatures : for what pro- vision does man need so much as Truth? And where is he to get it, unless it come from God? Has he not been searching for it long ages, and is he any nearer to it by 1 Isaiah xii. 2, 3. 2 S. John vii. 37. 3 S. Matt. xiii. 54-6. The Well of Living Water. those researches ? Have there not been as many schools of Truth, as there have been men of ability ? Have not the wise men of one age assaulted and overturned all that was deemed truth by the wise men of another? Has it not been overturning; overturning, overturning, from the days when speculation was born in the East until now ? And is not the warfare still going on ? Oh, how pitiful to see those poor, worn, weary, thirsty men, struggling by the side of that deep well of Truth, having nothing to draw with, and striving to pass off the muddy water which they have taken from their own cisterns, for the pure refreshing water that has heaven always reflected in it ! They will not re- ceive it from Christ. He seems to be but a man, for He was born, and had infirmities, and suffered, and died : whence then has He living water '? And why is this, my hearers ? Why this reluctance to believe in a Eevelation ? Surely now, after nearly six thousand years, you may give up any hope for Truth from any source save God ! You have tried long enough, 0 man ! to draw it up from the depths of the earth. That has beeu your plan. Xow try God's, — to re- ceive Truth from the heavens above, from God the fountain of Truth ; and cavil not if He offer it to you in a vase of clay, if so be you can only see His Xarue written upon it. And is there not abundant proof that GOD'S Xame is written upon Jesus of Nazareth ? Was that man, who sat upon Jacob's well, wayworn and thirsty, unheralded ? A whole nation, unique in its history and peculiar in its insti- tutions, was set apart and miraculously preserved through long ages to predict His coming. Epochs which mau could not arrange nor modify, were fixed centuries before He came, to declare His Birth. Miracles accompanied Him from His cradle to His grave. Wisdom flowed from His lips, such as man never spake, such as man can never imitate. His life enlightened the world: His death converted it! "What 72 The Well of Living Water, mark does He want, to certify Him to be from God ? He is not a vase of Gold, and has not Empire written upon Him ! But remember, that vase was full of blood, — the blood of the oppressed, of the conquered, of the murdered ; and He came to bring peace on earth, good-will towards men. He is not a vase of Amber, and has not Glory written upon Him. But remember, that vase was full of ashes, — of the ashes of hope, of desire, of love, of greatness; and He came to renew hope, to satisfy desire, to enkindle love and make it immortal ; to raise men to the true greatness of being the sons of God. He came to give us beauty for ashes ! How can you expect to see Him in any shape so contrary to the purpose of His coming ? He could come only as He did come, if He would redeem man and restore him to Truth and God ! Until He came, man was indeed a vase of clay, empty and worthless. God had no part in him, save in his creation, after sin had destroyed the likeness of God. How could the Name of God be once again written upon him ? The Bible tells us : Only by the Son of God taking our nature and redeeming us back by His own Blood. He, as man, must satisfy God for the race of man ; and because, in doing this, He appears on earth as a man, are we to reject him ? Are we to despise that humiliation, when we learn that it was the only mode by which we might attain unto glory ? Sup- pose you that humiliation is any the more pleasant to God, than to man ? Was not, then, the form He took, the pov- erty He endured, the scorn He underwent, the cruel death He died, the most striking evidence of His love to us ? And because of His love, are you so short-sighted, so earthly, as to despise Him ? Can you not see the moral, the spiritual glory of God, breaking out through that tenement of clay ? Could a mere man have lived as He lived, without spot and without blemish ? Could a mere man have placed Truth The Well of Living Water. 73 upon such a basis as that neither Philosophy, nor Science, nor Time, can shake it ? Could a mere man have assumed all the lowliness of His circumstances, and dignified them, and made them honorable, — nay, sublime? Could a mere man have died as He died, making the Cross a very chariot of glory ? A vase of clay He was, because it was necessary He should be : but on it was clearly written — too clearly for any one to say he cannot read it — the Name of GOD, the great unchangeable I AM. And He has arranged in His Church the means whereby we may attain to Truth. It is no longer necessary that any human creature should thirst ; the living water can be his for the asking. Christ is ready to communicate with us through His Spirit, — that Spirit whom He sent into the world when He took His place as our Advocate at the right hand of His Father. " Howbeit, when he the Spirit of truth is come, he will guide you into all truth : for he shall not speak of himself. He shall glorify me : for he shall receive of mine, and shall shew it unto you." 1 Truth now comes down to us. No more digging cisterns that can hold no water ! No more peering into deep wells to look for Truth ! No more watching of those old wrestlers after the good and the beautiful, to see if perchance they might find out any thing for guidance or for comfort ! We have now a better well than Jacob dug ; one not of the earth, earthy ; but " a pure river of water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." 2 Let us drink of that, and be satisfied. Let us bathe in that, and receive new life. It is the true fountain of youth. " They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles." 3 And we are not without something to draw with. " Say not in thine heart, Who 1 S. John xvi. 13, 14. 2 Key. xxii. 1. 3 Isaiah xl. 31. 74 The Well of ' Living Water. shall ascend into heaven ? (that is, to hring Christ down from above ; ) or, Who shall descend into the deep P (that is, to bring up Christ again from the dead.) But what saith it ? The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart : that is, the word of faith, which we preach." 1 And not only is it nigh us through the Spirit : but we have prayer, the great instrument for drawing Truth out of the wells of salvation. It was that which gave the weary Man who sat upon the well of Jacob, power for all His work of love. " Oh, my Father ! " was His constant cry. Whole nights He spent in prayer. All His miracles were accompanied by prayer. He prayed in the Garden, until great drops of sweat, like unto blood, fell upon the ground. He prayed upon the Cross, until He cried, " It is finished." That is our instrument. It brings the Holy Spirit to us, and He gives life to all the ordinances. We feel His Presence in the House of God. We experience His power at the Sacred Feast. We rejoice in the flood of truth which He strikes from the Word of Truth ; and while we revel in the love of God which He sheds abroad in the heart, we are made sen- sible that although we are but vases of clay, yet neverthe- less is the Name of God written upon us. 1 Rom. x. 6-8. etgljtl) Sermon And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed : and the ki?igdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever. — Daniel ii. 44. /^\YID said of the Roman Empire in his day, which was contemporary with the birth, of our Saviour, that when Jupiter looked down from the pinnacles of heaven he could not descry any thing throughout creation that was not Ro- man. This was, of course, poetically extravagant ; but much soberer writers than Ovid speak of the Empire under Augus- tus as embracing all the world that was considered worth having. It was the widest dominion which had been then known ; and if it did not equal the great Empires of the present day, — the Russian, the British, the American, — it surpassed them all in the compactness of its power, in the command of its resources, in the terror of its arms, in the celerity and certainty of its blows of conquest or vengeance. It was not the growth of a day. It had been consolidating for seven centimes. And when Augustus closed the gates of the temple of Janus, it numbered among its subjects all the civilized nations of the earth, while the savages who hovered around its frontiers were ready to acknowledge its dominion, and careful to avoid its anger. It seemed, so far as man then knew, to be limited only by the horizon ; and its strength was of a piece with its extent. It was no loose disjointed mass, without unity and harmony. Although embracing within its wide circumference various climates 76 The Kingdom of Christ, and innumerable tribes, it had carried with it in its progress its civil and military institutions, and had knit together all these diversified nations with bands of iron, so that each was made tributary to the fullest extent of its wealth and power. And all this vast accumulation of riches and legions was subject to a single will, and could be hurled with irresistible force upon any point either of resistance or rebellion. The world seemed to have reached that condition when all na- tionalities were to be swallowed up, and one iron rule, fierce and stern, was to mould every thing into its own shape, and keep that hopeless of change. Under this aspect of things there was born, in a remote corner of this powerful Empire, a Child, seemingly of very obscure parentage. His mother, it is true, was of the house and lineage of David ; but so reduced in circumstances that her husband was a carpenter. One of the decrees of Au- gustus, expressive of his universal dominion, — that all the world should be taxed, — brought this humble pair to Beth- lehem, where the Child came to the birth, and was cradled in a manger. From this time until John appeared in the wilderness of Judsea, we hear no more of this Child ; except that once, when a mere Boy, He strayed from His parents, and was found in the Temple among the Doctors, amazing them by His wisdom and answers. After He had been an- nounced by John, we can follow His history for three years, when we find Him accused before Pontius Pilate, the Gov- ernor of Judaea, who permitted Him, — although he could find no guilt in Him, — to be crucified between two thieves, as a common malefactor. During His short career, He had attracted great attention among His countrymen. But their interest in Him was only short-lived ; and when He died, He left but few friends, and they of the lowest classes of the people in rank and consequence. To them and to all who would listen to Him He declared Himself to be the Christ, The Kingdom of Christ. 77 the Anointed of God, the long-promised and prophesied Mes- siah, who had come to set up in the world the Kingdom pre- dicted by Daniel in the words of my text : " And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a king- dom, which shall never be destroyed : and the kingdom shall not he left to other people, hut it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever." What a contrast between these two kingdoms ! The one throned in power, mighty in resources, surrounded with the prestige of a thousand victories : the other, finding as its only earthly support a few illiterate countrymen, and they disheartened by the ignominious death of their Leader. The one illustrious in its historians and poets and orators, who scattered its fame broadcast among the people, and em- balmed its glories in immortal verse : the other known only to the few whom its preachers might attract, and whose only literature was the volume of their Master's sad and painful story. The one with a gorgeous worship, whose officers were statesmen, and whose rites were national, and who received into their tolerant Pantheon every deity who might increase their popularity : the other with nothing to attract save naked Truth ; whose temples were the desert and the cave, and the blue vault of heaven ; whose priests were un- learned men, save as God might inspire them ; whose faith was a declaration of war — war to the bitter end of mar- tyrdom — against idolatry and false philosophy, and every thing that exalted itself against the Name of Jesus of Nazareth. The one offering to its votaries pleasure, power, rank, office, with the delights of the present life : the other, concealing nothing of the ruggedness of the way of Life, but sternly presenting to its disciples poverty, and humilia- tion, and suffering, and often death. Could any one, who looked upon these antagonists as they stood face to face upon the day of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, doubt which 73 The Kingdom of Christ. would prove victorious, Caesar or Christ ? — which would endure the longest, the Roman Empire or the Kingdom of Righteousness ? If each was to depend upon what man could see, the idea that Christ would prevail should have been the merest mockery of human experience ! Let us now overleap the centuries which have intervened between the moment when Christ cried upon the Cross, " It is finished," and our day, and see what has been the re- sult of the conflict. Daniel, who called himself the prophet of the Most High God, prophesied of this antagonism six hundred years before these parties were arrayed against one another ; prophesied of it while yet the Roman nation was in its cradle upon the Tiber ; while yet the Son of God was in the Bosom of His Father : and he said, after enumer- ating the great monarchies of the earth which should suc- ceed one another, the Babylonian, the Persian, the Mace- donian, the Roman, " And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed : and the kingdom shall not be left to other peo- ple, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these king- doms, and it shall stand for ever." And in the preceding part of the same prophecy he described that kingdom of righteousness, figuratively, as a " Stone cut out without hands, which became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth." 1 Standing where we do to-day, let us see what is the state of the world and what has wrought the effects we perceive. What has become of the two kingdoms of the Caesars and of Christ ? We look around us in vain for the great Empire of Augustus. It is utterly broken to pieces, as Daniel foretold it should be, — broken into fragments, whose greatest glory are its ruins. Its noblest monuments are those which attest its utter destruction ! Its language i Dan. ii. 34, 35. The Kingdom of Christ. 79 remains to us, dead to all the uses of life : unhonored, save as it is embalmed in the inspiration of genius. A hundred nations divide the heritage of Caesar's Empire : and the imperial city, whose name was a terror to the world, is now guarded by the nations, not because it contains the ashes of the Caesars, but because he is seated there who calls him- self the representative of Christ upon earth. How wonder- ful ! The successors of that mighty man who strode our world like a colossus, utterly lost, — clean forgotten: and the successor of the Bishop of Rome, the representative of the bumble Xazarene, seated in his place of power. The simple fact is in itself an argument, not for the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome, but for the supremacy of Christ's Kingdom over Caesar's kingdom, the Kingdom of righteous- ness over that of power ! The fact is patent. The one has displaced the other. The strong has been broken in pieces, and the weak has been exalted. The Empire which over- shadowed the world has disappeared ; and the Kingdom which was cradled in humiliation and sorrow has taken its place. This single circumstance — were there none other — should speak volumes to the thoughtful mind. This issue to the contest, even upon its surface, is so unexpected, so startling to all experience, that it wakes up inquiry, and forces us to ask : " Has Christ really conquered in such an unequal struggle ? 93 We cannot find the Empire of Augustus ; but we do find everywhere the Kingdom of Christ. It meets us at every turn. All Europe, with a very trifling exception, is Chris- tian. All America, save the few wild tribes of the wil- derness, is Christian. Half of Asia is Christian : and Christianity is now thundering at the gates of the remain- ing Empires of the East. Africa is encompassed with Christian missionaries, who are gradually working their way, through disease and ignorance and barbarism, into its So The Kingdom of Christ. dark mysteriousness. And that still newer world than ours, which lay so long hidden in its unique singularity, is rap- idly rising into a great Christian nation. This is one view which strikes us ; but there is another still more important in this connection. Not merely is Christ acknowledged and worshipped already over a surface ten times as great as the Roman Empire, but all the rising nations of the earth — those which are ordained to sway its destinies — are Chris- tian. The Russian Empire, which is destined to blot out Mahometanism and rule over all Northern Asia, is a part of the Kingdom of Christ. The British Empire, which already holds the sceptre of the East, and which will one day rule over the whole Eastern Archipelago, is another part of the Kingdom of Christ. The American Republic, which even in its infancy is making itself felt throughout this whole continent, is another part of the Kingdom of Christ. And Rome, with her spiritual sceptre influencing more minds than ever did Rome with her imperial eagles, is, however corrupt, another portion of the Kingdom of Christ. Every influence is tending to enlarge this King- dom, and none to diminish it. What Daniel said of this Kingdom is, to all appearance, true : " And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a Kingdom, which shall never be destroyed." It has gone on enlarging and widening through all the changes of the world ; and to-day its sphere is larger, its glory brighter, and its pros- pects fairer, than they have ever been during its eventful history. Daniel's prophecy embraced all the peculiarities of this Kingdom. It occupies only three or four verses; but in that brief space it is pictured in all its most striking char- acteristics. He calls it a " Stone cut out without hands," rising, spreading, increasing, without any visible means. No man lent his power to it. All power was against it. The Kingdom of Christ. 81 No man carried it forward by his worldly wisdom. The greatest scholar who was converted to its cause wrote to the Corinthians : " And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech, or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God. For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him cru- cified That your faith should not stand in the wis- dom of man, but in the power of God." 1 No one seized upon it as his chariot in which to ride to Empire. For cen- turies every one was against it : and yet, long before the days of Constantine, Tertullian tells us that " Christians filled the cities, the islands, the towns, the boroughs, the camp, the senate, and the forum ; 99 and Origen said that " there was not a nation, whether Greek or barbarian, or of any other name, even of those who wander in tribes or live in tents, where the religion of Christ was not triumphant : " so that when Constantine advanced to power under the Christian standard, it was not he who carried Christianity to the ascendant, but Christianity which floated him to do- minion. And this has been its peculiarity ever since. It has ever been a Kingdom within kingdoms, — a spirit per- vading nations, but independent of their forms or power. Man has pretended to use it, — has usurped its holy name to cast a sanctity around his ambition or his crime : but it was only the name he could defile ; the spirit fled from his contaminating touch, and vindicated itself by springing up in some new soil, leaving him to corruption and decay ! Another of its peculiarities was, "that it should not be left to other people," but should remain forever under the headship of Christ. All other kingdoms descend from father to son, from one monarch to another, until they pass away and are forgotten. But this should ever be the King- dom of Christ : should know no change in its Ruler ; no i 1 Cor. ii. 1, 2, 5. 6 82 The Kingdom of Christ, alteration in its principles ; no mutation in its heaven- descended truths. And how strikingly has it been fulfilled ! No matter what corruptions may have stolen in upon the forms of Christianity, yet is Christ the Head of His King- dom everywhere. When the Papist prostrates himself be- fore the host, it is because he believes that Christ his King is there. When the Protestant bows himself at the Name of Jesus, it is because he worships Him as King of kings, and Lord of lords, and places Him above all earthly rulers. And wherever His Kingdom extends, it is still the same. " It is not left to other people." It is His, and His only : His in the frozen regions of the North ; His amid the palm groves of the tropics ; His where " the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle." It is His, and His only : whether the earthly ruler be Czar, or Emperor, King, or People. No one disputes His supremacy. No one grasps His sceptre. Although exalted to the right hand of His Father, with none on earth to represent His royalty, He reigns supreme, an invisible King, the Head of His Church, the Strength and Rock of His people. Another peculiarity is, that " it shall stand for ever : " not for time only, but for eternity. It is not only to outlive the kingdoms of this earth, but it is never to die ! And while its past history and present vigor give us assurance that it shall never be destroyed in time : its spiritual life, its spiritual Head, its connection with the unchangeable, all certify us of its future. Christ, its King, is already en- throned. In the spirit world is gathering that multitude which no man can number, of all kindred and people and nations and tribes, which is to form His Kingdom. When the economy of grace is over ; when He shall have gathered His elect from the four winds of heaven : then shall the end come ; and the Church Militant be changed into the Church Triumphant ; and the Temple not made with hands, The Kingdom of Christ. 83 eternal iu the Heavens, be filled with worshippers who shall worship Him in spirit and in truth. It is this Kingdom which we ask you to-day to extend. It cannot lay upon you taxes for its support, as earthly gov- ernments do : it can only appeal to your gratitude and your piety. It is a Kingdom : but its subjects are bound to it only by the ties of love and duty. No coercion is used to make you contribute to its maintenance or extension. You give what you please, subject only to the future judgment of God. Your connection with the Church Militant is one of probation merely. You are undergoing here your trial for futurity in the sight and under the supervision of God. If you fail now in your duty, it may not seem to affect your standing in the Church of God. No punishment imme- diately ensues ; no mark is placed upon you : but it will be brought back to you in the day when Christ shall judge His people. Under the Jewish dispensation it was widely dif- ferent. That was a spiritual kingdom, carried on upon the same principles as an earthly kingdom. God was their King : and taxes were laid upon them for the support of His Kingdom and His Priesthood. Specific offerings were to be made. Xothing was to be received from Nature, without the return of a certain proportion to God. A tenth of the income was required to be laid upon the Altar of their heavenly King. Under the Christian dispensation, all this specific taxation is done away, — done away, I mean, by the Gospel scheme. Your giving to God is now a work of love, — must spring now from a sense of duty. You are to give, as you receive, — conscientiously, in the sight of God; cheerfully, as from the heart; in faith that it will work out God's purposes upon earth. While the decree has gone forth that this Stone, the Kingdom of the Redeemer, will become a mountain, and fill the whole earth, — will do so whether you help it or not, — still God watches you to see 84 The Kingdom of Christ. if you take any part in the fulfillment of that decree, — if you feel any interest in His work of love. Your active co- operation may not make the issue any the more certain ; but it testifies your faith and your love ! Never forget, in all your Christian thoughts, that you are only educating here. What you do, is of as little importance as is the literary work of a child in the school-room. But, like him, you are disciplining the heart ; you are acquiring habits for your affections ; you are being made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. Giving is a part of this learning. It represses selfishness ; it cultivates gratitude ; it enkindles love ; it unites us more closely with God, through His great work of Redemption which we are helping to speed forward. Whether we give or not, the Church will go forward : but we shall have no place in the triumph. " The Lord know- eth them that are His : " and when He comes to judge, and to reward, He will place the crown of glory upon those who have been faithful in life, and unto death. jfttnt^ Sermon. But go thou thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days. — Daniel xii. 13. A T the close of that series of magnificent and far-reach- ing prophecies which make up the book of Daniel, we find him asking " the man clothed in linen, which was upon the waters of the river," — him who had been the instrument of communicating to him the foreordinations of God : " 0 my Lord, what shall be the end of these things ? " The prophet had heard, but understood not. Touched by the Divine Hand he had communicated to the ear of the world the arrangements of God's will ; but, like an instrument played upon, he had not comprehended his own harmony : and restive, as human nature always will be, under this condition of things, he asks that he may be per- mitted to see as well as to believe, — to penetrate the myste- ries of the future, as well as to proclaim them. An answer comes to him, solemn and instructive, of which my text forms the conclusion : " The words are closed up and sealed till the time of the end But go thou thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." This seems to be very hard, this duty of the Christian, to be always laboring, and never seeing the fruit of that labor ; to be the instrument of God's dealings, and yet be obliged to wait until the end before we can comprehend them : but it has ever been the lot of the faithful. " The just shall 86 Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. live by faith " : and it has never been otherwise at any period of the Church's history. The work of the Christian, in his day and generation, has always been as much for those who were to come after, as for himself. S. Peter tells us that when the prophets who prophesied of the grace that should come unto the world, inquired and searched diligently into that salvation, " it was revealed " unto them, " that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things which are now reported unto you by them that have preached the Gospel unto you." 1 And Daniel passed through this trial, in common with all his fellow prophets. Distinguished, as he was, for holiness and for wisdom, so that he is twice selected in the Book of Ezekiel to be placed in the very highest rank of the faithful ; given, as he was, the power of looking into dark and hidden things, so that he not only gave the interpretation of dreams, but evoked the dreams themselves, when they had been forgotten, out of the shadowy realms of night; honored, as he was, to declare to the world its whole extended future, until it was lost in the abyss of Eternity : God placed him upon no dif- ferent footing from that of his other prophets ; nay, upon no different footing from any one of ourselves, restricting him to the simple faith and patience of the Saints, and bid- ding him wait until the end should be. Enough for thee, 0 man, is it, that thou shouldst be permitted to work for God, and then to take thy rest, satisfied to ' 6 stand in thy lot at the end of the days." How hard it is to learn this lesson of Christian experi- ence ; — to understand that we have a work to do, some- times of active labor, sometimes of patient suffering : and that when it is done, we are to go our way, and take our rest in the grave, and receive our reward in eternity. We are so much accustomed, in the affairs of every-day life, to 1 1 S. Peter i. 12. » Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. 87 look for immediate results, that we cannot be satisfied with our labor, if we have to wait for its fruits, — that we are impatient at an obedience which requires us to be led by a guiding hand, and not by the light of our own eyes. We are always for asking, " 0 my Lord, what shall be the end of these things ? " instead of living in our work, and find- ing our spiritual peace in that. And so we fritter our years away, seeking for light and comfort in some imaginary end : while God intends us to wring them out of our daily toil, leaving the ultimate reward with Him. Could this be truly understood, how much happiness would spring up around our earthly homes ; how much light would be shed upon our Christian path ! It would sanctify our most irksome duties, and pour the oil of consolation over our severest sufferings. Instead of writhing under our allotted tasks, because we think them disagreeable, or unsuited, or trifling, — because they weary us with their monotony, or disgust us with their vulgarity ; we should feel that they have been appointed of God for our discipline and our duty : and, while we labored faithfully in them, would leave it with God to weave these seeming trifles into harmony with His glorious and comprehensive purposes. What have we to do with results? No more than the workman in some great manufactory, who, seated at his bench, labors clay after day upon that particular portion of the fabric which has been allotted to him. It may be very wearisome to him, nay very painful to him, thus to sit, through his whole life, doing that one thing ; and yet, if he do it well and faithfully, however trifling it may be, he is conducing essentially to the grand result, and receives for it the reward of his toil, and the " well done ! " of the master. And we can well understand how his uninformed mind and his limited view may not per- ceive the connection between his labor and the perfected 88 Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. manufacture; while yet the master-mind, which has ar- ranged and regulates the whole, shall see that it is essen- tial to the completeness of the work. How much happier for that workman to do cheerfully each day his necessary labor, and to find pleasure and hope in doing it, than to rise up in rebellion against the arrangement of things, and murmur at his allotted task, or refuse to perform it, be- cause he cannot see — which it is no business of his to see — how it is conducing to the grand design ! And this is just our position. We are all workmen, busily employed in carrying to perfection the glorious purposes of God, — those purposes which shall have their consummation at the time of the end. Each one of us has his appointed work ; and, although it may seem to us trifling or wearisome, it is couducing to the perfectness of the Divine Work, and is a thread in the wonderful tissue which our Heavenly Master is weaving for Eternity. Our Christian duty is to do our part well ; to labor faithfully in that sphere wherein God has placed us ; to bear with cheerfulness the burdens which may be laid upon us : and not to be stubborn, nor wayward, because we cannot work at just what we please, nor under- stand how what we are doing is the necessary complement of a Divine harmony. Our great error is, that we do not rise up, as we should, to a clear perception either of the wisdom or the love of our Heavenly Father. We say con- tinually, in our public and in our private prayer, " Our Father, which art in Heaven " : but never realize what that word " Father " means. We forget His presence and His care. We ascribe to a blind Chance, what has been all arranged by Him. We murmur against man, and for- tune; and remember not that man and fortune are but His instruments. Oh, my hearers, if we are indeed His children, — if we can lift our eyes to Heaven, and say with true filial reverence, " Our Father 99 : we may rest assured Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days, 89 that our work, and the way in which we are compelled to do it, and the sufferings through which we pass in doing it, are just the very hest for us ; and even though we may not be able to see what is the meaning of our experience, nor how our poor weak work can help along His mighty pur- poses : when it is all finished, we shall receive no worse a dismissal than his mightiest prophet : " Go thou thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." The work of life is very wearisome, even when we feel that it is allotted us by our Father. I do not speak now of that holiday life which too many lead, — taking their por- tion in this world ; but of that life of duty and of responsi- bility which God has placed us here to live. It is very wearisome to be ever schooling and disciplining one's self ; very wearisome to be contending against natural infirmities and besetting sins ; very wearisome to be swimming against the world's current ; very wearisome to be guiding and con- trolling those who are committed to our charge. But then it is the work which God has assigned us, and we must search for the blessedness which He has wrapped up with the toil. And we can find it even here, in the very dust and turmoil of the battle-field, amid the commonplace cares and anxieties of life, in its severest duties and crud- est sufferings, if we will live in the means instead of look- ing to the end ; — if we will search for life and comfort in the thought that all these things, — the most trifling and the commonest, the most solemn and the sternest, — are our part of God's work, and are conducing to His divinest end. How changed is the whole aspect of life, if looked at from this point of view ! What before was trivial and un- important waxes into greatness, so soon as it becomes con- nected with the purposes of God. What was bitter and loathsome is deprived of its sting, when we find it a link in 90 Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. the chain of God's glorious love. So long as we are looking to self, — to that connection which our lives may be hold- ing with things around us, — we can find no comfort ; for there is a crook in every lot, a skeleton in every house : but when we can look away to God, and realize that our work, our condition, our sufferings, are all from Him and of Him ; are not things of caprice, or of fortune, but of His fatherly appointment ; are not unnecessary and useless, working sorrow to us while they work good to nobody, but are essen- tial parts of His mighty and incomprehensible will : we change the crook into a source of blessing, we clothe the very skeleton with a divine halo, and we sing songs of glad- ness even in the night. This is the true charm of life, — to find our happiness in our work ; not to be looking for it in the future, but in the present ; not to expect it to come only out of great things, or out of prosperous things, but to woo it from our commonest every-day occupations, and to snatch it from the stern grasp of adversity. If we sep- arate happiness from our daily and our present work, we are turning it away from our homes, and reserving it for seasons of excitement, or for a distant future which is always rising — like the horizon — as we approach it. The true peace of the Christian here on earth is in doing every thing, and suffering every thing, as a part of the work he is appointed to finish. In this view all responsibility is rolled from him, because he is a mere instrument in God's almighty hand; all murmuring is hushed, because he could not change his work without an interference with God's omniscient wisdom ; all anxiety is put to rest, because his business is only to do or suffer, and leave the consequences to God. This is the Christian's happiness in life, — his only hap- piness. But the time will come, when that work shall be done \ when the books shall be sealed unto the end ; when Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. 91 the command shall come to each one of us, " Go thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." The time of work is over ; the sun has set upon our day of labor ; the hour of rest is come : and the Christian is given that blessedness, — the blessed- ness of the transition state from the work of earth to the work of Heaven. Oh the sweetness of that word Best! — to cease from all the weariness of life ; to be done with its cares, its perplexities, its miseries ; to have fought the good fight of faith, and ended the struggle ; to have finished the work which God has given us to do, and now to lie down and be at peace ! But none can enjoy it who have not labored. The self-indulgent know not what it means. It belongs only to the workman, — to him who has borne the heat and burden of the day ! " There remaineth a rest for the people of God." 1 And why for them ? Because God's people are expected to be a working people, — working for their own salvation, working for the salvation of others ; be- cause they are expected to be a struggling people, — strug- gling against their own natures, and their indwelling cor- ruption ; because they are expected to be a warring people, warring against the world, the flesh and the Devil. For such it is, — the true members of the Church Militant upon earth, — that there remaineth a rest : for they need it, they desire it, they deserve it. The Psalmist expressed it when, in the weariness of his struggles, he cried : " Oh, that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest." 2 " I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest." 3 S. Paul expressed it when, aged and battered, he exulted in his approaching end : " For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 1 have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid up 1 Heb. iv. 9. 2 Psalm lv. 6. 3 Ibid. 8. 92 Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days, for me a crown of righteousness." 1 S. John proclaimed it as an utterance from Heaven, when he said : " I heard a voice from Heaven, saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea,, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors ; and their works do follow them." 2 And these expressions come home to the heart of every struggling Christian. He feels that rest is what he craves ; — rest from sin, rest from war- fare, rest from responsibility, rest from temptation, rest from the solemn work of life : and God gives him the boon when He dismisses him from his post : " Go thy way till the end be. Thou hast finished thine allotted task : now thou shalt rest. Go sleep in the grave, faithful warrior ; when the end of the days shall come, then shalt thou awake, like a strong man from sleep, and stand in thy lot ! " And this is the blessedness of Eternity ! The Christian has had happiness in his work, rest after his work, and now shall he have reward for his work. " He shall stand in his lot in the end of the days." He had on earth his allotted labor, and he shall now have in Heaven his allotted reward. The same loving Lord who meted out the toil and the suf- fering of the world, will mete out the joy and the glory of his Father's mansions. All has been arranged for Eternity ; all has been watched and guided through Time : and now shall it be made perfect in God Himself. The Christian lived by faith ; was permitted to see nothing but his work ; was taught obedience, and submission, and humility, and patience ; was made perfect through sufferings ; toiled on, fought on, resting in nothing but promises, yet seeing God in every thing : and now faith is swallowed up in sight, and mystery in knowledge, and he can see how every thing worked together for good. Until he stands in his lot, he 1 2 Tim. iv. 6-8. 2 Rev. xiv. 13. Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. 93 could not comprehend the work upon earth which was pre- paring him for it ; until he enters upon the inheritance of Heaven, he could not understand the training which was making him meet for it. The one is the complement of the other. God saw them both from the beginning, and fitted them one for the other. Man could see only the work, and had therefore to do it in Faith : until God introduces him to the other, and manifests the glorious harmony. And as it is with our individual work upon earth, so is it with the Church's work. The Church is an aggregate of Christian people ; and when they move and act in a mass, they move and act upon the same principles as the individ- ual. The Church has its appointed work, — a work given it by Christ, its Head, through those who were its earliest representatives : " Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." 1 And the Church has no more right than the individual to ask, " 0 my Lord, what shall be the end of these things ? " The Church has nothing to do with the end, save to work for it. That belongs to God. If He pleases that the Missionary labor of the Church should seem to be spent for nought ; if it is His will — and His will is signified by His command — that the blood of the martyrs shall be the seed of His Church ; if it is help- ing on His purposes that Missionaries shall go out to their places of toil simply to die : He knows better than we do, for His eye scans the whole field of battle, and sees the end from the beginning. The duty of a soldier is simple, un- questioning obedience, — to do whatsoever he is ordered, whether to advance boldly, or retreat wisely, or stand in his post of honor and be shot down. Many a battle has been won upon earth by iron-hearted endurance. Napoleon gained the victory at Wagram, and Wellington at Water- loo, by permitting a portion of their troops to be cut to 1 S. Mark xvi. 15. 94 Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. pieces in their positions. To those who suffered, it seemed a cruel fate merely to stand and die : but those master- minds, whose comprehensive glance took in the whole field of vision, saw that the sacrifice of the few was necessary for the victory of the whole. Those well-trained, disci- plined soldiers trusted in their commander, faithfully be- lieved that no useless sacrifice was made of them, bravely offered up their lives for the cause's sake : and shall Chris- tian soldiers, the conscripts of the Cross, falter in their obedience when such a voice as God's, and such a wisdom as God's, utters His command : " Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature ? " He does not say what shall be the end of your obedience, what its re- sults, or what its success : He merely charges you to do it. He gives the Church her work. He does not ask her to crown that work, but merely to do it. It is no matter whether she sees no fruit of her work. Her life is not a life of sight, but of faith. Still must she continue to do it. No matter whether generation after generation of her chil- dren pass away and go to their rest without any recompense to sight : still must she continue to do it. When Abraham was called to go out of his own country, and leave his kin- dred, that he might possess the Land of Promise, he went ; and died without any signs of its fulfilment. And Isaac died, and went his way to his rest. And Jacob died, and went his way to his rest. And Joseph died, and went his way to his rest. And generation after generation died, and went their way to their rest. Then came long years of weary bondage : but, at the end of the days, Abra- ham's children stood in their lot ! This record of faith is given us for our example ; and not this alone, but the his- tory, all along, of the Church. It treads an equal path. It never offers any thing to sight. Its unchanging princi- ple is, as generation after generation finishes its work : " Go Daniel in his Lot at the End of the Days. 95 thou thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." And what, my beloved people, is the duty of every age of the Church, is our duty. The command of our Saviour is unrepealed. It stands there in all its imperative force, now, to-day, as when the Apostles first received it. If it were right to encourage you by what should never be your motive of action, I might point you to much in the world that looked favorable to the growth of Christianity; but I re- frain, because I desire you to stand upon the one unchange- able principle of obedience to Christ's commaud. If every thing was as dark and dreary as midnight; if the gates of the nations seemed barred and double-barred against the admission of our Missionaries ; if storm and darkness raged around the battlements of Zion : it would be none the less our duty to send forth the glad tidings of great joy. Our preachers might uever reach their fields of labor ; might only reach them, to knock and be refused admittance ; might be let in, only to be slaughtered : still have we done our work, and must continue to do it ! Results, success, have nothing to do with our duty. "We cannot tell how necessary this darkness, this hindrance, this slaughter, may be. That is not for us to judge. We must do our work as a generation of the Church's children ; and, when we have done it, be satisfied with nothing more than this : " Go thou thy way till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days." Cent!) Sermon. For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow. — Eccle- SIASTES Vi. 12. nnHE history of a man is very distinct from the life of a man, — that outside portraiture which a biographer gives, from that inward experience which is known only to himself and God. What appears on the surface in the shape of action, is all that is manifest to the world. The deep uuder-current of motive and feeling, of weariuess and disgust, of repentance and remorse, remains forever secret, unless the barriers of the heart be broken down by the weight which presses upon it, and it is poured forth for the warning or the benefit of others. Every honest diary of the heart-life of a human creature is a precious document for man ; sometimes because of the true value of the world which it sets before him, sometimes because of the dangers against which it guards him, sometimes because of the comfort which it affords him. "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man : " 1 and when an hon- est heart is truthfully opened with all its rich and sad de- velopments, we read as it were our own hidden life, and are startled at its portraiture of ourselves, just as the Samaritan woman was when Christ told her all that ever she did. We have dreamed perhaps that our experience was our own, that it was a thing of individuality, that no one else had ever travelled just such a road, had walked in the deep 1 Prov. xxvii. 19. The Vanity of Earthly Life. 97 shadow of weariness and satiety when the skies were bright over us and the flowers seemed to grow in our path, had been weighed down by a sense of the utter vanity of all things earthly when others were enjoying our lot, had mourned in bitterness of spirit over words and acts which others applauded and imitated : and lo ! another heart speaks, and tells our inner life as its own, and lays bare before the world all our secrets, and anatomizes for the gaze of mankind all that was most hidden and sacred within ourselves. Well is it for us if we will learn from the experience of another ; and, taking the chart which another has sketched of the ocean of life, steer wisely and thoughtfully through all its dangers and treacheries and false appearances, into that haven of rest which is offered to the prudent and the faithful. How strikingly are these remarks exemplified by the two aspects under which Solomon is presented to us in the Bible. Were we to form our judgment of him from the historical books of the Bible, we should conceive of him as a monarch of surpassing wisdom and power, living proudly, haughtily, luxuriously, magnificently : surrounding himself with every enjoyment which life could give, and interested only in matters of state, or art, or literature. We read of him there as extending' the limits of his king'dom from Egypt to the Euphrates, and from the Great Sea to the bor- ders of Arabia ; as adorning Jerusalem with palaces, and a Temple of surpassing preciousness ; as receiving homage from nations and monarchs of remote and almost unknown regions ; as promoting commerce and trade beyond all for- mer precedent ; as winning admiration by his wisdom and his knowledge; as floating in an atmosphere of sensual en- joyment of the most Oriental cast. This is the Solomon of history. But how different is the Solomon of the Prov- 7 98 The Vanity of Earthly Life. erbs and of Ecclesiastes ! How the mask falls off when we follow him into his secret chambers, and watch him as he lays aside his robes of state and his aspect of dignity and his assumption of enjoyment, and listen to the deep sighs which bnrst from his wearied heart, and witness the tears of repentance which course their furrows down his cheeks, and learn his honest judgment of himself and human life ! The one is the true and proper complement of the other, — the inner life laid bare as the commentary upon the outer. And herein lay Solomon's wisdom, — that wisdom which God had given him. He was the wisest man the world has known, not because he was a consummate statesman, and an acute philosopher, and knew all Nature's secrets : but be- cause he gauged all this at its true value ; and when he had flashed it in the eyes of an unthinking multitude, was hon- est enough to inscribe upon it, " Vanity of vanities ; all is vanity;" — was true enough to his own nature and his common humanity, to record his own deep sense of his in- firmities, and his disgust! And when, my hearers, you would judge the character of this wise monarch, you must combine the two aspects of his life, and remember that God saw all the secret workings of his heart, its sense of vanity, its heavy weariness, its deep contempt of outward show, its repentance and remorse, as well as the pomp and luxury which were open to the world. God knows that station and office and rank require of men ofttimes what their own con- science disapproves: but God alone sees the sorrow it in- flicts, and hears the groans which are uttered heavenward for forgiveness and for peace. Blessed be God that He has given us one honest Book in which we may see our fellow- creatures as they are, and learn what wretched inconsis- tencies God can endure, what a mass of infirmity and weak- ness God can forgive. But for this, a faithful reading of The Vanity of Earthly Life, 99 our own hearts would drive us to despair, and force us to the question of S. Paul : " 0 wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this Death ? " 1 It is among the wailings of this wise king that we en- counter the sad confession of ignorance which we have selected for our text : " For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow ? " What an accumulation of epi- thets and figures to express his deep sense of man's pitiful condition ! Vain life, spent as a shadow ! All of it spent so, — promising and not performing, alluring and deceiv- ing, weaving bright webs of hope only as snares and meshes ! — and mingled with all this, a profound obscurity as to the blessing or the curse of every movement, as to the good or the evil of every possession. Words could not express a more forlorn prospect, especially when we remem- ber that it was uttered by one for whom life had displayed its most flattering visage, — around whose brows had been wreathed the proudest chaplets of knowledge and of wis- dom. If he, with his penetratiag and all-pervading wis- dom, knew not what was good for man, who might expect to know it ? If he counted all the days of man's life as days of vanity, when every enjoyment of earth was his : who might look for satisfaction in the days of the years of his pilgrimage ? Sad sentence inscribed by honesty and wisdom upon the life we are now living ! Sad shadow cast by Truth oyer the path which the young, the gay, the ambitious, the sensual, the wise, are now treading ! " Press on ! " — is its sad accompaniment as the eager train comes sweeping by — " but alas ! ye know not whether the good ye are seeking may not turn to ashes in your hands and bitterness in your hearts ; — whether the evil ye are lamenting may not be the jewel in the head of adversity and affliction." 1 Rom. vii. 24. ioo The Vanity of Eartkly Life, God alone knoweth what is good for man, and what is evil for man : and the sooner ye commit yourselves to His om- niscient guidance, the sooner shall ye experience the peace of a child under the guidance of its Father, the confidence of a voyager under the direction of his unchanging star. The wisdom of the Greek, who answered, " that no one could he reckoned happy until his life was closed," was founded upon a dim perception of the truth uttered in my text. I say a dim perception, for the philosopher was only looking to the uncertainty of human affairs, and the instability of fortune : while Solomon was embracing a larger compass, and affirming man's ignorance of what was good for him and what was evil, without any regard to its permanence or its frailty. And it is this feature in my text which makes it so sad, — that darkness is around the path of life ; that ignorance hangs like a pall over the results of our actions, our pursuits, and our hopes. It is cruel enough to be so often disappointed, to be so long laboriously rolling the stone up the steep ascent, to be thirsting so many weary years with the fountain always glittering before our eyes : but how much more cruel to be told, as you rush along in eager and rapt pursuit, that even should you reach the summit with your burden, you might find a cold, thin atmosphere of oppressive misery; — that even should you slake your parched lips and craving heart in the waters you have sought, you might find them bitter to the taste and unsatisfying to the soul. And this is just what the wise monarch tells us is our condition, — that no man knoweth what is good for man in this life ; that we all play our game in the dark ; and that all the fondest objects of man's desire wear a double face of good or evil, accord- ing to God's arrangements. It is not therefore merely a lesson of the uncertainty of human possessions, of the in- stability and vanity of earthly pursuits, that the sacred The Vanity of Earthly Life. 101 writer is teaching- you : but a more striking lessou of man's ignorance and dependence. The object may be won, the goal may be reached, the prize may be grasped : but is it for g"ood or for eyil ? — for blessing or for curse '? And whether we look at this truth with the eye of expe- rience, or with the teachings of Scripture, we reach the same conclusion. If man's earthly condition be considered, and that alone, it would be very hard to say whether the objects of his pursuit brought more good or more evil to him and his, even when most successfully achieved. Is constant toil, is incessant care, is weighing every word and action, is reckoning every cent, is sealing the fountains of charity, is hardening the face and the heart, is rearing a family of idlers, is introducing luxury and indolence and vice into your domestic circle, good : and yet these are the most usual results which follow an ardent pursuit and suc- cessful attainment of wealth. Can man know what is good, when he spends his days and nights for consequences like these ? Is a brow wrinkled with thought, is a head whitened with care, is a family neglected, is a home for- saken, is a surrender of individual independence, is an accumulation of envy and slander and calumny, is unceas- ing abuse and misrepresentation, is the unsteady footing of a fluctuating multitude, good: and yet these are the fruits which the ambitious reap, when they devote them- selves to the pursuit of power. Can man know what is good, when he sows seed that will grow up into such a harvest as this ? Is a body decrepid before its time, a constitution broken and decayed, an old age of pain and of sorrow and of inanition, a fortune wrecked, hopes blasted and expectations crushed, good : and yet these are the bless- ings which follow in the train of a life of pleasure. Can man know what is good, when he sacrifices all the kindly charities of life, all the chaste enjoyments of home and 102 The Vanity of Earthly Life. fireside, for such companions as these for his declining years ? And even when these things, or any other earthly objects, are bestowed upon man without these visible nat- ural consequences, can he or any other man know whether they will work good or evil for him ? Wealth suddenly acquired is almost sure to destroy him who receives it. Power rapidly obtained usually turns the head and corrupts the heart of him upon whom it is bestowed. Idleness and luxury enervate both soul and body, and sink those who are permitted to indulge them into effeminacy and lethargy. Whatever man considers good, has with it toil and care and disappointment if he pursues it ; and, if it is thrust upon him, almost certain corruption and ruin. The wisest father who had any true experience, would hesitate long before deciding upon what he would desire for his child ; and sel- dom would he wish to heap upon him any of those things which men count good, without first passing him through those preliminary steps of discipline, which seem necessary to chasten the desire and moderate the passions of men. And as it is with good, so is it likewise with what men call evil. Looking at this under its various forms of labor, of poverty, of disease, of affliction, of humiliation, of dis- appointment, it is hard to say, from one's own experi- ence, whether those conditions of things have not been most propitious to us. I know that in the world, — and I know that Christians catch the tone and language, — the man is pitied who is subjected to any of these conditions of being : — pitied without any consideration how much his character may need their discipline, or his habits their restraining influence! Little do we know, while we thus speak, but that these things are in the highest sense the very best which could have come upon him ; — not for his present and immediate comfort, but for that long future which he may have to live here upon earth. The solemn The Vanity of Earthly Life. 103 experience of the world uniformly teaches us tliat good and evil are not mere abstract and opposite qualities ; but that good is often evil, and evil often good — paradoxical as it may seem — according to the individuals around whom they circle, or the circumstances under which they are cast upon us. And the conclusion is the same as before : " Who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow ? " If we look at this truth with the light of Scripture, it is still more striking. Man may not acknowledge his experi- ence, — may prefer to veil his consciousness from the eye of his fellow- man, and persist in the assertion that he does not call evil good, and good evil : but the Bible speaks always frankly and honestly to man, and places before him his full, true measure. It looks at life not simply in the present, but also in the future ; gathers man's immortality around him, and makes him take that into the account of good and of evil : and when that union has been made, and the conditions of his salvation are brought to bear upon the question, no one can hesitate in his decision as to man's ignorance of good and evil. When the Bible tells us that it is harder for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, and man counts riches one of his greatest goods : well may we say, in the words of our text, " For who knoweth what is good for man in this life ? " When the Bible teaches us that not many wise, not many noble, not many learned are called, and men toil for wisdom and honor and learning like galley slaves, sacrificing bodily ease and the comforts and tranquillity of life for their possession : we may again ask : " For who knoweth what is good for man in this life ? " When the Bible heaps its blessings upon the meek, the pure, the merciful, the peacemakers, the persecuted, and man reckons gentleness and purity and 104 The Vanity of Earthly Life. mercy and peace among the mean things and the base things of the world : we may again ask : " Who knoweth what is good for man in this life ? " When, in fine, the grace of God is made in the Bible the highest gift pur- chased for man by Jesus Christ, — is reckoned above all things else in preciousness and glory, — while man con- siders its possession as a token of weakness and imbecility : we may put anew the question : " Who knoweth what is good for man in this life ? " In the view of Inspiration, as well as in that of our experience, we are satisfied that man's ignorance of what is good for him is profound, and that we may safely challenge human nature to answer : " For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow ? " If it cannot be known by man, then, what is good for him in this life, we are brought to several practical conclu- sions of deep importance to us in the conduct of life. And the first of them is this : " that we should place no inordi- nate value upon those things which are counted among men as good for them, nor should we too carefully desire them, nor should we envy others the possession of them." David himself was sorely beset by this temptation, and details his experience and its cure in the 73d Psalm : — " But as for me, my feet were almost gone ; my steps had well-nigh slipped. For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. They are not in trouble as other men ; neither are they plagued like other men. Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning. When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me ; until I went into the sanctuary of God ; then understood I their end. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places : thou castedst them down into destruction. Thus my heart was The Vanity of Earthly Life. 105 grieved, and I was pricked in my reins. So foolish was I, and ignorant ; I was as a beast before thee." We must not look at things in this world as they seem ; but we must look at their end, and that in the light of the sanctuary. What seems to flesh and sense to be good, may be good only for the moment, — may be accompanied by troubles and dangers of the most perilous kind, and may lead to inevitable destruction. If we take only one view of them, — what may be called the fleshly and earthly view, — they wear the aspect of goodness : but only turn their other visage, — place them under the eye of Scripture, — and that aspect changes into one of evil and of curse. Those who possess them are said by the Scriptures to stand in slippery places, to be consumed with daily terrors; and sudden destruction is their threatened doom. From such things a prudent man, foreseeing the evil, would hide him- self. Another most important conclusion is the reverse of this : " That we should not be too much cast down by what the world calls evil, nor murmur against the lot which God has assigned to us." When we hear one of God's servants saying, " It is good for me that I have been afflicted," for " before I was afflicted, I went astray ; " 1 — when we see an Apostle deliberately writing to the Hebrews that " whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth," 2 and that though " no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous ; neverthe- less, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteous- ness ; " 3 — when we find God's richest blessings associated with lowliness, and humiliation, and suffering; — when, in fine, our great Exemplar was a child of poverty, and had not where to lay His head, and was deeply acquainted with grief: well may we be satisfied with conditions of being 1 Psalm cxix. 71, 67. 2 He b. xii. 6. 3 Ibid. 11. 106 The Vanity of Earthly Life, which have such words of comfort and examples of holiness connected with them. We cannot credit the Bible without being satisfied that what man calls evil is ofttimes God's richest blessing ; and that the school of humiliation, taking the word in its broadest sense, is the discipline of man's highest good. In our ignorance we cannot know this ; but it must be learned, like all our other best lessons, through faith and experience. The flesh revolts against it : but then flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, which is the inheritance we desire. Let us then be satisfied with our condition, however lowly, however difficult, however full of toil : for if it be blessed with faith, it must end in ever- lasting life. And lastly our ignorance of what is good for us should teach us to place ourselves in the keeping of a Being who is wiser and more far-seeing than ourselves. He has prom- ised to make every thing work together for good to those that love him: and how much better — where no one know- eth what is good for man in this life — to place ourselves under the guidance of a Father who will, by His divine power, overrule every thing to good, whatever it may be in itself, or however it may appear to flesh and sense. Good and evil are indissolubly connected together in this world, — good and evil, I mean, in the sense in which the multi- tude use these words. They come alike to all, the just and the unjust, the righteous and the sinful. But while we are so blind — such "beasts," as the Psalmist calls it — that we cannot distinguish between these: there is One who can make every thing good for us, however marred its visage or ominous its aspect. Upon Him, then, let us cast our care. In His wisdom let us rest our judgments. Let Him decide for us our course, and all its accompaniments : and whether He dispense to us what the world calls good or evil, let us feel that it is best for us, because the Lord hath ordered it. Clebentlj Sermon. And the apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith. — S. Luke xvii. 5. TF we were to select from among men an individual who had signally failed in life, and were to analyze the causes of his failure, we should almost certainly find a neglect of what he considered trifles, a disregard of what he deemed unimportant circumstances, to have been really one of the most prominent of them. While he had been preparing him- self for great occasions, and waiting for large opportunities, he had neglected the little things which make up the greater part of ordinary life, and had thus, before trial, proved him- self ignorant of the true conditions of his being ; and un- fitted, because of that ignorance, for success in its conduct. While another man had been carefully watching every occa- sion of usefulness or advancement, however slight it might appear, — had treated every circumstance, which involved him at all in its effects, as if it might be the most important of his life, — he had considered like occasions and like cir- cumstances as too trivial for his notice, as too ordinary to produce any material or permanent consequences. And thus while the one, taking advantage of every little wave which rippled to his feet, had launched his bark, and was far off on his prospering voyage : the other was still waiting for some extraordinary influx of the waters, which was to bear him forth upon its swelling bosom, and sweep him at once to fortune or to fame. And there will he stand until xo8 Increase our Faith, his life shall end : and he learn — when too late — that fortune, fame, nay, character itself, are made up not of acci- dental or lucky chances, but of a steady and industrious im- provement of those opportunities which come alike to all in the usual course of human life. And thus, my hearers, shall every one of us stand, unim- proved in religious character, unadvanced in our soul's sal- vation, waiting, waiting, upon the shore of the great ocean of God's eternal love : unless we learn, at once, that our advancement in spiritual things is made to depend, like our success in worldly things, not upon any extraordinary mani- festation of God's grace towards us, not upon any striking exercise of our faith towards Him, but upon the improve- ment of that grace which, the Apostle tells us, appeareth to all men ; and upon the exercise of that faith which is concerned about the circumstances and contingencies of every-day life. Christians are very prone to consider the increase of faith as necessary for them upon great and important occasions of human life, — when they are called upon to meet a great crisis, or to wade through a sea of troubles, or to struggle with a storm of temptation. And in this they are right, and God has promised that upon such occasions and under such necessity His grace shall be sufficient for them : but they are wrong in supposing that they do not require a like increase to meet the ordinary trials and temptations of every-day life. For these they consider themselves fully prepared by their consistent Christian life, and do not sup- pose that such common and usual occurrences demand any special supply of the Spirit's power and influence. And it is just at this point that most of us make the great mistake of our Christian life, and lose alike the comfort and the power of Christianity. And this mistake is in supposing that our duties — those duties in which God has promised Increase otir Faith. 109 us His help and support — consist in great things, in un- usual efforts, in extraordinary sacrifices, in uncommon self- devotion. And while waiting for these occasions, we are undisciplined for those trials which we call petty because they come daily, and stumble in our Christian walk because unprepared for the exercise of our graces under circum- stances which we deem common only because they are con- stantly recurring. The circumstances under which this prayer was offered by the Apostles to their Lord furnish a felicitous elucidation of our meaning. It was evidently an earnest prayer, — one offered impulsively, in reply to what they considered one of the hard sayings of their Master. Had it been one of those hard sayings, — had it been offered in reply to His myste- rious declaration that " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God," 1 or that other saying which commanded them to eat His Flesh and drink His Blood, — it would not have furnished us with the instruc- tion we are deriving from it : because, under those circum- stances, we should not have deemed it either a remarkable or an unnecessary prayer. We should have confessed, at once, that for the reception of such doctrines an increase of faith was alike proper and requisite. But when, upon turning to the context, we find that this prayer was uttered in reply to such a simple, every-day duty as the forgiveness of injuries, we feel at once that there is a meaning in it, which it may be well for us to understand, — a lesson con- veyed by it, which we ought to learn at the earliest possible moment of our Christian career. " Take heed to yourselves," are the words of our Saviour : " If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn ag*ain 1 S. John iii. 3. no Increase our Faith. to thee, saying", I repent; thou shalt forgive him. And the Apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith." And well might they pray so : for it is not so much the great- ness of an act which makes it difficult to a Christian, as its frequent recurrence, coupled as it is with an antagonism to flesh and hlood. When a great occasion offers itself, when a mighty sacrifice for religion is forced upon us, when some re- markable trial casts its dark shadow over our path, we nerve ourselves for the struggle ; we put upon us the armor of righteousness upon the right hand and upon the left. But we are not habitually watchful against little sins, against secret sins, against the trials and annoyances which are the most dangerous, because they are the most frequent, and come upon us unawares. We run into great error both in life and in religion, when we undertake to determine what are great things and what are little things, — what actions are important, and what unimportant. Our judgment is almost always false upon questions like these ; and could those judgments be seen by us as they are seen by God, we should find that we were too often calling good, evil ; and evil, good : sweet, bit- ter ; and bitter, sweet. We conclude that things are great and important, when they are public, notorious, of wide fame, of extensive interest ; when they are blown upon the wings of the wind ; when they occupy the tongues of multi- tudes ; when they adorn, or soil, the page of history. On the other hand, we call things trifling and unimportant, when they are frequent, ordinary, confined to small circles, shut up within the heart and consciousness of individuals. We forget that the daily recurrence of a thing, common and ordinary, may make it of vast moment to our welfare and happiness, while the rare occurrence of an uncommon event may render it — however striking it may seem on the instant — of very little consequence in its results. In Increase our Faith. in Nature, it is the unfailing recurrence of night and day, of seed-time and harvest, of winter and summer; it is the steady movement of the sun and moon and stars ; it is the uniform and unchanging laws of attraction and repulsion, of evaporation and condensation, of motion and inertia ; which are most important and therefore greatest : and not the portentous eclipse, nor the fiery comet, nor the extreme convulsions of Nature, even though they leave for ages the impress of their terror and desolation. The one goes on forever, — quiet, silent, sublime, yet giving life, happiness, joy, confidence to a world. The other is only for the mo- ment, — terrible, fearful, overwhelming, exciting the mind, astonishing the understanding, for years perhaps the theme of science and of study : yet never working for man any of the beneficent results which flow from the common, every-day blessings of light and heat, of dew and rain, of summer's breath and winter's blasts. And as it is in Nature, so is it likewise in life. It is not the poetry of life, nor yet its romance, which make up its blessedness : it is its every-day prose. Wit, eloquence, wis- dom, heroism, learning, beauty, — these are the idols of the world. These make men and women great, place them upon pedestals, shrine them in hearts, embalm them in song and story. But when you come truly to weigh these gifts, — to rate their value in the world's advancement or in the world's happiness, — plain common sense outweighs them all. And for the simple reason, that life is made up of common and ordinary things, which demand none of these qualities as essential to their proper conduct. They em- bellish life; they constitute the fluting to the column or the efflorescence of the capital : but coarser materials than these must bear up the fabric of society. The qualities which make the fireside peaceful and virtuous ; which train the young in the paths of duty ; which furnish the examples 112 Increase our Faith. of industry, of obedience, of reference, of religion ; which give stability to society and strength to government: are those which are truly great, and most essentially impor- tant. And these are the qualities which God dispenses most freely, and which man despises because they are uni- versally diffused. They give peace at home, but they do not confer distinction abroad. They cast a halo around a happy wife and rejoicing children ; but then it is not a rainbow that spans the earth. They protect law, and pre- serve justice, and keep society from anarchy ; but then their names are not blown abroad by fame's noisy trumpet, nor their effects recorded upon monuments of brass. They are not great ; because man confounds greatness with notoriety, sublimity with noise and ostentation. And as it is in Life, so it is likewise in Religion. It is not upon the great fields of ecclesiastical strife that the vic- tories of the Cross have been won ; but in the quiet, unob- trusive walks of duty and of suffering. Catching the spirit and language of the world, we call the martyr great ; we call the reformer great ; we call the ripe and learned theo- logian great ; we call the mitred dignitary great ; and we connect with them the advancement of religion and the fruits of the Spirit. For deeds such as they have per- formed, for works such as they have done, for struggles such as they have waged, for writings such as they have left, we think the prayer of the Apostles, " Lord, increase our faith," must have been appropriate and necessary. But God sees not as man sees : and His eyes look upon many a mar- tyr of whom the world has never heard ; and watch the dust of many a reformer who lived before the Church knew any reformation ; and behold the brows of many an humble and obedient Christian encircled with the golden crown of im- mortality, who knew no learning when on earth save the learning of His Word, and wore no crown save the crown Increase our Faith. of sorrow and of thorns. And He sees, too, that it is their deeds of Faith and of humility which have subdued the earth ; that it is the seeds which they hare planted of obedi- ence and of reverence which have leavened the world; that it is their works of love and charity which have sanctified the Name of Jesus upon earth. Ask the proud man, who lies in humbled repentance at the foot of the Cross asking for mercy and for peace, what hath brought him there : and he will point you, not to the martyr's ashes, not to the theo- logian's wisdom, not to the preacher's eloquence : but to the meek and holy life of a sainted mother, obscure to all but him ; or to the patient endurance of a long-suffering wife, unknown except by God and himself ; or to the uncon- scious purity of some darling child, whose daily life has breathed more of Christianity than all the forms of religion which have surrounded him. Ask the rebellious youth who is returning after his prodigal career to find comfort upon his father's bosom, what is guiding him back to a long neg- lected and long forgotten home : and he will tell you no tale of wonder or of miracle, — of supernatural awakening or angelic guidance. His polar star, through all his wander- ings, has been his father's fireside, hallowed by affection, endeared by tenderness, consecrated by prayer, made lovely as Paradise by the graces of the Spirit which ever rested over it ! These are the influences which keep Christ's name divine in the eyes of the world, — which force even wicked men to confess that His life and death have raised humanity to a higher standard than it has ever before attained. And who are they that have worked and are still working such wonders for the Name of Christ, such blessings for a cursed and smitten earth ? They are the meek and humble saints of whom the world knows but little, — the merciful, the pure in heart, the persecuted for righteousness' sake, the imitators in suffering of Him who was the " man of 8 ii4 Increase our Faith, sorrows and acquainted with grief." They are those who have patiently borne all the afflictions which a heavenly Father has laid upon them, and have learned to comfort others with the consolation wherewith God has comforted them. They are those who have labored to cheer the drea- riness of poverty, to speak peace to the accusing conscience, to find rest for the wearied spirit, to revive the crushed and despairing heart. They are those who have filled Heaven with their prayers, and whose prayers have returned laden with the blessing and the dew of Heaven, which they have scattered all around them. They are those who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, and from whose eyes God will forever wipe away all tears. And what are the deeds which have made these saints of God so precious in His eyes, — such a blessing to the whole earth ? What are the conquests which shall enroll their names so illustriously among the elect of God ? Just such deeds, my fellow-Christians, as any Christian among you may perform ; — just such conquests as every one of you is called upon daily to achieve. The deeds of faith which hallow the name of Jesus upon earth, the conquests of love which make His religion indeed glad tidings of great joy to the world, are not limited to great occasions, or unusual opportunities ; have not to be waited for until some great religious crisis shall arise, and give fitting scope to the ex- cited energies : but meet us at every step of our Christian life, cross our path daily and hourly, furnishing the means of discipline and the prospect of heavenly glory. Oh ! how fatal an error do we commit, when we wait for illustrious opportunities in order to utter the prayer of our text, " In- crease our faith ! " How fearful is our mistake, when we consider nothing great but what is of public interest and wide-spread renown. We need that prayer at every mo- ment of our lives ; for we spend no day in which we are not Increase our Faith. "5 called upon for deeds of faith, for conquests over self and over the world. We glorify him who confesses his faith in the midst of fire ; who bears, for a few hours, the physical agonies of a body devoured by the flames : and think he needs, indeed, the prayer, " Increase our Faith." But what is his suffering compared with the martyrdom of a whole life, — with the agony of carrying about day after day, year after year, a crushed and broken heart. — crushed and blighted for the sake of Christ. And yet many a private Christian of whose sorrows the world knows nothing, does this for Christ. We exalt the Xame of him, who leaves father and mother and sister and brother, and bears aloft the banner of the Cross in foreign lands, battling for Christ against the powers of darkness ; and acknowledge that he needs indeed the prayer " Increase our Faith." But what is his self-denial compared with the self-denial of him who remains in the midst of the world, surrounded by the hosts of the proud, and the unbelieving, and the scoffing, and the lukewarm, and battles for Christ against their indifference and fierce opposition ? We place high upon the list of his- toric fame him who separates himself from the world and dwells in solitariness, devoting himself to prayer and self- denial ; and we confess that he requires the prayer, " In- crease our Faith." But what is his dreariness compared with the weary spirit that goes forth to his daily cares, tempted on every hand, perplexed, harassed, having to con- trol his temper, to smother his indignation, to walk meekly and humblv in the midst of a o-ainsavinor world. " Better," saith the wise man, " is he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city : " 1 and yet, who thinks that he needs the prayer " Increase our Faith," when he has nothing more to do than the simple work of ruling his temper. Xo, my beloved friends, we have all reason to use this 1 Prov. xvi. 32. n6 Increase our Faith. prayer every day of our lives, because it is the common and ordinary duties of life which are indeed the greatest ; — the greatest, because the most frequent and the most influen- tial. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, whom we should rather influence than all others upon earth, are the witnesses of our daily walk. They see our inconsistencies ; they watch our infirmities ; they mark our deviations from Christian rectitude ; and impressions are made upon them which work effects for a whole lifetime. Little eyes are always fixed upon us ; little hearts are beating in unison with ours ; little feet are treading in our footsteps ; little characters are forming under our control. Christianity stands forth daily for trial in our persons and conduct. And when all this influence breathes from our walk, think ye that we do not need the prayer, " Increase our Faith ? " We need it always, for the government of our tempers, for the ruling of our tongues, for the humbling of our pride, for the control of our desires, for the subjugation of our appetites. We need it for the increase of our trust in God, of our reliance upon Christ, of our confidence in the power of the Holy Ghost. We need it for that struggle with the world, for that battle of life, which we are destined to wage until mortality shall be swallowed up in Life. Ctcclftl) Sermon. And after these things he went forth, and saw a publican, ?iamed Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom : arid he said unto him, Follow me. And he left all, rose up, and followed him. — S. Luke v. 27, 28. rpHE longer the world rolls on, the more does it seem to he involved in worldliness. Only a few years hack, and we can remember the comparative quietness of things : how much more time was given by everybody to matters disconnected from business ; to amusement, to exercise, to home, to rest. One part of the day sufficed for the trans- actions of the world ; after that, care was rolled off, and the body and the mind were relaxed from their extreme ten- sion. The result of what was done had to he quietly waited for until the operation could travel its required distance, and return with its slow reply. The news of the world came in by degrees, and one thing could he well considered and well digested, before another was hurled upon it, con- fusing and entangling the past and the present. The thoughts of men were allowed some leisure from external pressure to dwell upon the concerns of domestic life, and they could find a little time to give to such trifling affairs as wife and children, and their souls and eternity. The young grew up then under the shadow of their father's wing, and were taught around the domestic board and at the fireside those lessons of morals and patriotism, which made our forefathers so high-toned and illustrious, and gave to the Republic a race of men which is fast passing 1 1 8 The busy Mans Religious Difficulties, away. But all this is now changed. A man of business has no time for any thing except business. Space and dis- tance are annihilated ; and news now travels, not upon the wings of the wind, but upon the lightning's flash. There is no rest for the anxious and excited mind. The whole day is a continued succession of new and often startling announcements ; and before the one care is disposed of, another comes and thrusts its unwelcome presence upon the harassed and wearied spirit. There is fast getting to be no such thing as Home. It was once the boast of the Anglo-Saxon race, that it had that word in its vocabulary, — that there was a sanctuary for the feelings and the affec- tions, — a consecrated spot, where the mind could be dis- burdened of care, and the brow could smooth its wrinkles, and the laboring spirit could find refreshment. But alas, while the word still remains to us, the thing is rapidly fading away before the increasing excitement of the world. ~No place is now sacred, for business thrusts its haggard visage upon every hour of the day, and into every private chamber of the house ; and care and trouble cannot be kept at bay, which come with the force and quickness of the elements. Not only in times of difficulty, but at all times, is the system kept in a condition of nervous expectation, because no man knows what the next moment may thrust upon him from the other end of the earth. The toil of the day is never ended 5 the sweets of home are but half en- joyed. Instead of carrying to that circle of love a calm and cheerful spirit, he hurries there with a disturbed, and per- haps irritated mind : and hurries back to his anxieties, hav- ing left no word of comfort, no recollection of happiness, no example of peace, for its unsatisfied hearts. His presence has given no joy, his spirit has received no strength ; and thus God's precious relations of husband and wife, of parent and child, of home and love, are worn out under this un- The busy Mans Religious Difficulties. 119 natural condition of things. And when this has gone on for years under the name of " necessary business," with the sacred appellation of " duty " annexed to it, while so many more precious duties have been neglected for it : what has been gained for it all? Perhaps wealth, perhaps bank- ruptcy; but in either case sure disappointment, because the truest pleasures of life have been sacrificed for it, and what is won is won too late for any true, rational enjoy- ment. I have drawn this picture not with any design, of course, of running a tilt against the world's so-called advance- ment, for no voice of man, even should he desire it, could ever turn that back; nor even of expressing the opinion that it were better not to have been made : but rather to show the extreme difficulty, under such circum stances, of fixing the attention of men upon any thing not wrapped up with their daily routine of business. A mind excited upon one topic cannot be made to attend to another, and if busi- ness keeps the mind, as is very much the case now, unceas- ingly occupied, what is the chance for religious truth? Where is the time, what the hour, for consideration, for prayer, for repentance, for belief? When is the convenient season to come, in which the soul is to be thought of? Formerly, as I said before, there were hours every day which a man might call his own, when he could retire withiu himself and attend to his own dearest interests, without neglecting, or even seeming to neglect, the interests of others ; when, if a man did not attend to the concerns of his soul, it was because he was careless or indifferent. He could not plead the lack of opportunity. But now the case of the man of business is really harder, and does demand of him much greater resolution than of old. He seems now almost compelled to be in a constant whirl of excite- ment, — to have nothing left him but the necessary hours 120 The busy Mans Religious Difficulties. for his daily food, and his essential sleep, and God's blessed day of rest. And oh ! how precious should that day of rest be to him now, when things are so : and yet, with what a jaded and wearied heart, with what an exhausted and col- lapsed intellect, is he forced to come to it ! During the week, — the busy, restless, excited week, — religion and the soul can find no place ; and on the Sunday, even when the worn out body does not cry, with nature's cry, for rest and sleep, he brings to the sanctuary of God a heart either unable to cast off its care, or else tired out with its tumult- uous pulsations, and careless of every thing save the reac- tion of quiet. It makes religion almost an unheeded topic : and the minister of Christ feels that he is pleading for men's souls either to a host engaged in the deadly strife of battle, face to face, and hand to hand ; or else to that same host when, wearied and exhausted, it has no power left to fight, and is reposing only that it may recruit its strength for the morrow's strife ! The ministers of God have this great comfort, that the Spirit of God is stronger than- man or his arrangements ; that Christ has gone into the very midst of the marts of commerce, and plucked a soul thence. " And after these things he went forth, and saw a publican, named Levi, sit- ting at the receipt of custom : and he said unto him, Follow me. And he left all, rose up, and followed him." And what Christ did then, His Spirit can do now, and it can penetrate through all the excitement and turmoil of which we have been speaking, and bring God's children home to Him. This is our comfort, that we are not working alone; that it is not only the voice of man that is crying aloud in the places of concourse, but that a Spirit, subtler than air, keener than lightning, stronger than interest, more absorb- ing than avarice, is likewise busy there, speaking for Christ with that small, still voice which pierces deeper than a The busy Mans Religious Difficulties, 121 sword, even to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit and of the joints and marrow. We should faint and grow weary when we looked out upon the world and saw its seem- ing inattention and complete absorption, if we did not trust in that power of the Spirit, which has come into the world as the gift of God in return for the sacrifice of His Son ; if we did not know that He was moving everywhere, invit- ing in season and out of season, pleading when man has no power to plead, and pluckiug from every scene of life dis- ciples for the Church on earth. Yes, my hearers ! even when you think that you are escaped from the warnings and the exhortations of the sanctuary, there follows you a Preacher far more urgent than your minister, far more intrusive than he can ever he, — a Preacher who shrinks neither from your coldness nor your anger, who fears not to tell you the naked truth, who presses not only into your counting-rooms, and your offices, and your sanctuaries, hut into your hearts and souls. And it is this auxiliary who is our Strength and our Power, — who gives us hope when . hope would otherwise die, — -who bids us be of good cheer, even when all minds seem absorbed in business and gain. It is this auxiliary who can call you, even as Christ called Matthew, from the very midst of your business, and make you leave all and follow Him. It is very pleasant to observe how Christ went every- where and found followers ; how no pursuit of life escaped His grasp or eluded His love. Wherever He went, He searched for spirits that would obey His voice, and took His disciples from every condition in the world. Matthew was, as we see here, a publican, Luke was a physician, John and Peter were fishermen, Paul was a man of learning and a zealot. No occupation seemed below His call ; none so absorbing as to resist it ; none too high for obedience and submission to His will. Christianity, my hearers, is for 122 The busy Mans Religious Difficulties, all: and Christ's example is meant to teach us that we should not despise any, nor despair of any; should not neglect to give the word of invitation to the lowest out- cast, nor fear to cast it at the feet of the busiest and most engaged. We know not who will hear it and obey. Those whom we least look for may be the first to come out from the worldly throng, and leave all and follow Christ. Men's hearts are as subject to the will of God to-day, under the dispensation of His Spirit, as they were in the time of Christ ; and can be bowed down under His voice as quickly as they then were. It is our want of faith which makes us fearful of results. Nothing is more absorbing than was the occupation of Levi, nothing more invincible than the fanaticism of Saul; and yet the one instantly obeyed the voice of Christ, and the other was subdued into humility before His power. Why, then, should we be hopeless of any ? Why should we tremble at the world's progress, and be fearful of its influence upon the conversion of men ? The Spirit of God is in the world, and He can pluck the sinner thence, snatching him from its whirl and tumult as easily as Christ drew Matthew from the receipt of custom. But while this is so, and while the ministers of Christ may feel this consolation, there is yet, my hearers, a very great danger for you in this increasing absorption of the world. The Spirit of God is among you, as He has ever been, and is as strong to draw souls to Christ as He ever was ; but are you likely to be as attentive to His voice, to be as willing and obedient in the day of His power ? Chris- tianity, it is true, is a thing of the heart ; but the heart must be reached through the mind. God's complaint against His people of old was, " My people will not con- sider." And when S. Paul preached to the Bereans, we are told that many of them believed, " because they received the word with all readiness of mind, and searched the Script- The busy Mans Religious Difficulties. 123 ures daily, whether those things were so." And are the times in which we are living, with their constant agitation and excitement, with their rapid influx of new and ab- sorbing matter, with their daily pressure of anxiety and responsibility, propitious to consideration and Scriptural examination *? Not at all so : nay, with all the increase of knowledge and books, very adverse ; and they demand much greater effort on your part to gain for Christ and your souls the proper attention, than they have ever done before. We talk incessantly of the greater religions facil- ities and advantages of our day, of the increase of the means of grace. And there is some truth in it, if we measure it by the number of books and tracts which are circulated, and by the accumulation of societies, and by the diversity of benevolent schemes. But I question very much whether more was not done among men for Christ, when we had only the Bible and the Prayer-Book, and time to read and study them, than is done now, with ail our books, and tracts, and societies, and no time for any thing but business and gain. TVe are fast coming to a sort of compact between the Church and men of business, that if the one will support the other, will give money freely for religious objects, the Church will keep their consciences and take care of their souls. Men seem ready to do every thing and any thing for Christianity, except to give it their thoughts and their time. " What do you want? 53 is the language of the world to the minister of the Gospel : " to build a church? Certainly, I give with pleasure. " " To feed the poor ? Better still : here is money, as much as you want." " To send missionaries to the heathen P I do not exactly see the use of that, but still yon are my pastor, and if you think it right, here is my contribu- tion." " But," replies the minister. " I want something more than this : I want you to give your attention to 124 The busy Mans Religious Difficulties. personal religion — to consider the salvation of your soul, and its unprepared condition." " My dear pastor," is the reply, " I have no time for that ; my purse is at your service and the service of the Church, but not my time ; I am too busy now for so solemn and grave a matter." But, my hearers, there must be a time, and when is that time to come ? The world is not going to lose any of its excitement as it grows older. It will be only more and more agitated, more and more restless, more and more unquiet ; and if you are putting off this solemn work for any less bustling period, you will find it only upon a bed of sickness or in your graves ! The Church can make no compromise for your souls ; for the word of God tells us, " They that trust in their wealth, and boast them- selves in the multitude of their riches ; none of them can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ran- som for him : for the redemption of their soul is precious, and they must let that alone for ever." 1 Christ is not sat- isfied with that. He did not go to the receipt of custom and ask Levi for his money : He called upon him to follow Him. And so now. While He will not leave your good deeds unrequited, that is not what He died for, nor what He instituted His Church for, nor appointed His min- isters for, nor sends His Holy Spirit into the world for. He wants you to follow Him ; to spare time enough to Christianity to save your souls; to give up whatever He may deem necessary to require of you for His Name's sake. To say that you have no time to follow Him, is to give up the question of salvation : for in that respect you will never be any more happily situated. You must make the time, if you desire ever to be a Christian. You must break away, if need be, from the receipt of custom. Any thing is better than losing your soul. " For what shall it profit a 1 Psalm xlix. 6-8 (the last phrase is from the Prayer-Book version). The busy Mans Religions Difficulties. 125 man, if he shall gain the whole world, an J lose his own soul '? 93 1 To return to the point whence we set out. Is there not something radically wrong in the framework of a social state which so arranges its work that in order to have it faith- fully performed, the higher duties of domestic life must be neglected '? This evil is not confined to one class of society, nor to any one kind of pursuit : it is the pervading evil of the whole country. The politician, the lawyer, the clergy- man, as well as the merchant, are all so occupied with the duties of their profession, that they must exercise a stern resistance to the exaction of the times, if they would snatch any hours for the blessing of their homes or the improve- ment of themselves. And it will prove fatal to all the best interests of society unless it he corrected, for there is no authority which can he substituted for the father's. God will not permit the honor nor the glory which He has de- signed for the parent to he given to any other : and so the child must bear the burden of the neglect, and feel it deeply in himself, even though he does not disclose it to the world in immorality and disgrace. Why is it pass- ing into a proverb that the youth of this country. — which, above all others, demands reverence and obedience, because we have nothing else to protect us from anarchy but a law-abiding education, — is taking things into its own hands, rejecting control and despising authority ? Why is it that our academies are scenes of disorder, and our col- leges broken up year after year ? Why is it that our popu- lation is ever growing more lawless and piratical '? It is just because the fathers have not had time to give that supervision to things at home, which God and Nature de- signed them to give : and so the legitimate sceptre of the patriarch is fallen from their hands, and lies dishonored in 1 S. MarkYiii. 36. 126 The busy Mans Religious Difficulties, the dust. And no natural relation can be violated with impunity. The sin will find a man out, and a nation out, as surely as effect follows cause in physical things. And there is really no necessity for it. There is no busier land than our Fatherland, no country under the heavens whose commerce is more extended, whose manufactures are more gigantic,, whose trade is more exacting, whose professional men are more learned and assiduous, whose politicians have heavier responsibilities upon their minds and their hearts. And yet they do so manage to arrange their work, that they neglect neither their homes nor themselves. Beauti- ful as is the scenery of England ; beautiful as is its rich and perfect cultivation ; beautiful as are its parks, its coun- try-seats, its churches : still more beautiful are its Homes, those nests of love and virtue, where are trained up the men of dogged honesty and unconquerable principle, who have carried her up, through trial and trouble, through storm and tempest, to the topmost pinnacle of glory. And this is just where we are going to fail. In looking at great things, we are neglecting what we consider small things. In our onward rush to greatness and power, we are over- looking the natural laws of all our social relations; and they will some day vindicate themselves before all the world with a fearful retribution. Society must and will advance ; man's dominion over nature must and will be enlarged ; Science will be forever adding new force to our operations, and placing new powers in our hands. But we must never forget that morals and religion do not advance with them ; that they are immutable ; that the great laws which God has established and revealed to us are the same " yesterday, to-day, and for ever." No matter how things may change and advance, the man is still the father, the husband, the master, with duties which none can absolve him from, which none can perform for him. Any work which absorbs The busy Mans Religious Difficzrities. 127 hiin so entirely tliat he cannot fulfil these, is work more than he ought to do, — work from which he should break away rather than sacrifice his children to it. It cannot he necessary. God will not permit it to he necessary, for nothing 1 can he necessary which violates His laws. Noth- ing is necessary in this world but duty : and one's duties to home — his moral duties, the duties arising out of his presence, his authority, his example, his instruction — are far more important than the duty of procuring wealth or even comfort for his family. And then one's own soul ! What is to become of that ? Is it to be sacrificed to this cry of necessary work ? Is Eternity, as well as Time, to be laid at the foot of this Moloch ? God forbid ! And yet it must be, if you can find no time to pray that your soul may be saved. Xo time ! and what was time given you for ? Merely to pass away ? Merely to procure meat, and drink, and raiment ? Merely to accumulate wealth ? Xo ! it was given you for none of these : it was given to prepare for Eternity. The rest should be all by-play, just as a traveller amuses or employs himself while he has his eye steadily fixed upon his Home. That is the end of his journey : other things are only means or accompaniments. And so with Eternity. That is the end of all, the great goal of life : and every thing, save preparation for that, should be handled lightly, so that when Christ passes by and calls you, you may be ready to leave all and follow Him. ^trtccntl) pennon. But Martha was cumhered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone 1 bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus an- swered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou a?"t careful and troubled about many things: but one thing is needful : and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her. — S. Luke x. 40-42. HENEVER we can find a question fairly put to our ? T Saviour, we may be sure, if it be a practical one, of having the proper answer to it for the use and blessing of the world. Idle questions He always put aside with an admonition or with a rebuke ; but those which really looked to duty or to holiness received a solution which removed them ever after from the sphere of doubt or difficulty. And it is a great comfort that so many points have been decided by our Lord Himself, — points which lie very near our do- mestic and social happiness. Nothing perplexes a Christian more, seeing that he is called upon to act amid complicate duties, than to know how to frame his life, so that he may fulfil them all : so that, while acting for God and for the glory of religion in one direction, he may not bring reproach upon that same cause by neglect in some other direction. These cases are continually presenting themselves, and are the cause of much embarrassment to the conscientious child of God. If he knew his proper course, he would be most happy to pursue it. His difficulty does not lie with his will or his resolution to do what is right, but with his knowl- edge. His duty is not plain before him ; he wants advice The busy Woman 's Religious Difficulties. 129 and counsel ; he desires the judgment of one more experi- enced than himself in the Christian life. Happy for him, if, under such circumstances, he can find a friend who will guide him in his action ; — still more happy, if he can be pointed to his Bible, and can read the solution to his diffi- culty in the very language of his blessed Master. It is surprising how little Christians look to the Script- ures for a sure rule of duty. They take up the erroneous notion that the teachings of Christ were meant more espe- cially for the age in which He lived, and for that peculiar state of society. Miserable mistake ! for the value of the Bible consists in its enunciation of general principles, meant for all people and for all times, and suitable for all. It was impossible, in a Book intended for the world, to take up every single case of conscience, every conflict of duties, every point of casuistry, and settle it upon its merits. The world itself, as S. John says, could not contain the books that should be written after such a plan. Our Lord has adopted the only possible course, — that of enunciating, from a given case, a general principle, which may be after- wards applied to all cases of a like kind. They are the foundation of all Christian ethics, these sayings of Christ ; and are to be applied to our doubts and difficulties, as they may arise, for their settlement and removal. They belong to us as much as to any period of the world ; they are the inheritance of all Christian people ; and if any one fails to use them, because they were proclaimed ages ago, and in a different quarter of the world, he may just as well, for the same reason, refuse to rest upon any of the promises or hopes of the Bible. The morals of the Bible, its rules of practical duty, were promulgated no earlier than the doc- trines of the Bible ; and if we found our assurance of ever- lasting life upon the Atonement of Christ, we may surely rest our solution of practical duty upon the principles which 9 1 30 The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. He laid down. Whenever He has spoken, that is enough for man ; His sayings are divine, and therefore catholic ; are the inspiration of God, and therefore the rule of duty for man all the world over, and in all the changes of the world. In the verses from which I preach, a case was laid before our Saviour of the simplest kind, and yet covering a vast question, one which demands solution every time that any conflict seems to arise between our domestic and our relig- ious duties. It arose out of the common every-day arrange- ments of a household, and may, therefore, be a question in every family, concerning every member of that family. Its very simpleness and universality make up its vastness, for what it lacks in seeming importance, it makes up by its wide embrace. Our Lord, it appears, was received by a woman, named Martha, into her house. She seems to have been the elder sister, and a very particular house- keeper. She had a younger sister, called Mary, who em- braced the opportunity — letting housekeeping alone for the time — of sitting at Jesus' feet, and hearing His words of truth and eternity. This vexed Martha, and she applied to our Lord for redress : " Lord, dost not thou care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me." This gave occasion to our Lord to place this domestic question, — one which concerns not only every woman, but every man in this congregation, — upon its proper footing. " And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things : but one thing is needful : and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." Nothing is more important for the comfort and happiness of the domestic circle than that a house should be well or- dered ; and this is generally supposed to be the province of The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. 131 the woman. Public duties, professional occupations, the necessity of providing for a family, all force the man away from his home for a very large portion of his time. This casts upon the woman the management of things at home, of children, of servants, and generally of the social rela- tions of the family. Upon her are supposed to depend the neatness, the comfort, the happiness of home. If these are not secured, she receives the blame ; and even when they are secured, unless they be secured just in a certain way, after a particular model, she is very apt to suffer from the tongue of criticism. No wonder, then, that there are many Marthas in the world, — mothers, or elder sisters, — who are cumbered about much serving ; who are made anxious every day, and almost every hour, lest every thing should not be as it ought ; who are tempted to negiect, as Martha did, their religious duties, for fear they may neglect their domestic ones. To all such, Christ lays down the important principle, that if one or the other has to be laid aside, religion is the " one thing needful," and every thing ought to be sacrificed for that. The case of the woman is very hard in this world ; and harder than it ought to be, because it is misunderstood. Man expects very often from woman that which he has no Scriptural right to expect. As a quaint old English writer says : " The rib of which woman was made was not taken from man's head, that she might rule over him ; nor from his feet, that she might be his servant ; but from his left side, next to his heart, that she might be his companion, his friend, the dearest object of his affection." And S. Paul, in his Epistle to the Corinthians, says : " But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ ; and the head of the woman is the man ; and the head of Christ is God." 1 Now mark, the man is the head of the woman as 1 1 Cor. xi. 3. 132 The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. God is the head of Christ : that is, she is subordinate to him, nothing more 5 he is expected to deal with her as God dealt with Christ, to exact of her her lawful duty and no more ; not to make a servant of her whom God gave him for a wife ; not to forget that she has duties, feelings, and above all a soul ; not to require that she shall sacrifice her conscience to his pleasure, or even comfort ; not to derange every thing by his disorderly habits, and then require of her all his own deficiencies; not to leave servants, children, household economy, altogether to her weakness. She is his helpmeet. She is only one half of the domestic admin- istration : and unless he support her by his authority and his presence, he is making her a drudge instead of a wife ; he is degrading her from her true position, and returning to her toil for her love, discomfort for her affection. Man, too often, thinks that his duty is done, when he provides the money for the expenditures of his household. As if a woman's heart could be satisfied with that ! — as if it did not yearn for love, for honor, for attention, for companion- ship, for a heart into which to pour all its weaknesses, for a strong arm on which to lean in all its trials. When man remembers what woman is to him ; how much she is called upon to bear and to suffer because of him ; how weak her body is, and how inferior her authority : he ought to limit his expectations, if he does not give her his support ; he ought to be satisfied with some imperfectness, if he does not strengthen her by his presence and counsel. It is when a husband gives his wife this love and con- fidence, that she feels most keenly the conflict of duties which may sometimes arise between her domestic circle and her God. When these are not given her, — when she per- ceives that she is merely the head servant in the family, ex- pected to minister to the pleasures and caprices of a master, — she loses the sense of her own dignity, and becomes care- The busy Woman \y Religious Difficulties, 133 less of her duties either to God or man. She may, from habit and training, preserve order around her : but the spirit is gone ; the life of love has died out, and with it has hope withered and fled. There is no longer any conflict ; misery has either driven her entirely to God, or has hard- ened her heart against him. But to the beloved and hon- ored wife, to the caressed and cherished daughter, to the sister made happy by a brother's affection, the temptation is great to sacrifice God upon the domestic altar ; to put His claims aside when the comfort or pleasure of those they love are interfered with ; to be cumbered with much serv- ing, when they should be sitting at the feet of Jesus, and listening to His instruction. With them there is a real conflict of duties ; and then it is that the conscientious soul would fain understand what is the line of duty, and where serving should cease and give place to religion. A woman has a soul as well as a man ; and, therefore, is entitled to save it. Its salvation depends upon the use of the same means as those which rescue man from de- struction. Unless, therefore, she performs her religious duties, — those which are private as well as those which are public, — she endangers her spiritual life. Any serv- ing, therefore, which requires her to neglect those duties, is too much serving. She is not bound to peril her soul for her house. Her relations to God are prior to her rela- tions to her husband, and are of a higher nature. When they come, therefore, into any necessary conflict, her do- mestic duties must yield. They can never be put as a sub- stitute in the place of religious duties. God is before all, and above all ; and husband, children, parents, brothers, servants, every thing, must give way before Him, so far as He has required it. He must be worshipped and served before all others, up to the measure that He has required worship and service. This is the general principle devel- 1 34 The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. oped by the text : " Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things : but one thing is needful : and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." But while this is the general principle, it must be guarded carefully and conscientiously on all sides. While the wife, or the sister, or the daughter, has the right to claim time and arrangements for all necessary religious duties, for prayer, for private reading and meditation, for communion with God, for public religious worship upon the Lord's day, for the instruction of her children and ser- vants : she has no right to neglect her domestic duties for any thing like religious dissipation. Her husband and chil- dren, and the happiness of her home, are not to be sacrificed to societies and meetings, and all the array of benevolent schemes. These are very good, and very necessary : but good only for those who have no duties to interfere with them, and necessary only so far as organization is required for their accomplishment. While a truly harmonious Christian character demands the full performance of all our religious duties, it requires equally the fulfillment of all the requirements of our station and position ; and while the one cannot be neglected without danger, no more can the other be thrust aside for the mere excitements of re- ligion. The time for contemplative holiness may be right- fully claimed, but only that it may surround the family circle with the halo of practical religion. Nor may the woman complain that she has not time for her religious duties, when the want shall arise from her own irregular habits. If by late rising, or a lack of order, or a love of pleasure, she let the time slip for communion with her God, — the precious time which she can never overtake again through the day, — she shall not be able to harmonize her duties. It will be a perpetual conflict ; but The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. 135 a conflict of her own making-, a trouble of conscience of her own creation. For this there is no remedy save refor- mation, — save a judging of herself honestly, as in the sight of God. For any neglect arising from this cause, she will necessarily suffer in her feelings of remorse if she be a true child of God ; or, if not, in her domestic happi- ness. The thing is inevitable. The rule of God's govern- ment, " Be sure your sin will find you out," will come home under these circumstances, — will terminate in evil, and in misery. But there is another state of things which calls for a different application of the same principle; and that is, where the conflict does not arise from others, but from within ourselves, — where our religious character is inter- fered with by our own over-particularity, and by our too great anxiety and carefulness about domestic matters. Women are sometimes so anxious to have every thing around them orderly and comfortable, as to make every- body uncomfortable who conies within their reach ; and, in the pursuit of this end, they violate many of the precepts of the Bible, besides sacrificing their own comfort. For life is a complicate thing, and has its duties in all direc- tions ; and if we pursue those duties violently in one direc- tion, we are sure to stumble over others in some other direction. Now the Marthas of this world must not forget that husband, children, servants, friends, all have rights in the family ; and that towards them they have correlative duties : that if this over-particularity makes them reproach- ful to the husband, fretful to the children, threatening to the servants, inhospitable to friends, it is a sin, and not the fulfillment of a duty ; it is the sacrifice of the comfort of home to a fancied order, which is really disorder in the sight of God. The woman imagines that she is fulfilling her duty ; and she finds that her happiness is disturbed, 1 36 The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. that her home is made uncomfortable, and that her spir- ituality is eaten out. What must she do ? Conquer herself and not others ; learn to give up her habits, that others may be comfortable around her; adopt the conclusion that her much serving cannot be right, if it lead her to quarrel with her husband, when the Bible says, " Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord ; " 1 — if it induce her to provoke her children to wrath, when the Bible says, " Provoke not your children to wrath ; " 2 — if it disturb her to such a degree as to make her unjust and unequal to her servants, when the Scriptures have issued their commands against all these things. Order, neatness, elegance, are very excellent things, but too dearly purchased when paid for by the vio- lation of any of the commands of God's moral law. A notable Martha may make a home very comfortable within due limits, but she may also make it very uncomfortable. A woman is likewise serving too much when she is care- ful and troubled about many things. In this case the prin- cipal sufferer is herself. A nervous, anxious condition of mind, while it distresses others, is a perfect self-tormentor, eating out the comfort and peace of the soul. And this will agitate itself about domestic matters, — for home is woman's noblest sphere. This may be a natural tempera- ment ; if so, it is unfortunate : but have you ever thought that Christ has a feeling for infirmities of this kind, and will help them ? It is not irremediable. It may be over- come. Faith and prayer can accomplish much in a case like this. But, apart from natural temperament, there may be an unnecessary anxiety, a preying care, arising out of much serving, which shall eat out the spiritual peace and comfort of the Christian. This is more than duty requires. The highest encomium which our Saviour ever 1 Ephes. v. 22. 2 Ibid. vi. 4. The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. 137 passed upon a woman was, that "she had done what she could.' 3 Be satisfied with this. Let not over anxiety affect your spiritual life. Do your best, in humility and prayer, and leave the consequences to God. You may not satisfy man, but you will satisfy God. He sees your weaknesses ; He knows your infirmities. Cast your care upon Him, who careth for you. Sacrifice not your soul before any require- ments of man. " But one thing is needful.'' 5 Choose that part, and it shall never be taken away from you. Fault- finding husbands, surly fathers, ungrateful brothers, shall in the end acknowledge your meekness and your faithful- ness, — shall, in the days of darkness, or in the hour of necessity, or when you are laid in the grave, rise up and call you blessed. You thus perceive, my beloved hearers, that the rule of Christ applies to all these cases, and to numberless others which might be cited, and they must be regulated by it. Serving is necessary, is woman's part of the household economy ; and Christ did not blame that : it was only the character and spirit of that particular woman, who was cumbered with much serving, who was careful and troubled about many things, — so cumbered that she could not at- tend to her religious duties, so careful and troubled that she had not time to sit at the feet of Jesus. Take this principle with you, children of God, regulate your duties by it, and you will find God's blessing to be with you in all your labors, however insignificant. The position of woman is a grand one, standing, as she does, the angel of the domestic circle, the comforter of the husband, the guide of the children, the mistress of the servants, the controlling spirit of the household, the centre of love for the hearts that cluster around her. How holy should she be ! how full of the divine spirit ! How little does she understand her greatness, when she expends all her energies upon 138 The busy Woman s Religious Difficulties. serving ! That is but a small part of her duty, — the very smallest part. Her quiet spirit should be prepared to calm the harassed and wearied mind of her husband, — harassed and wearied by its conflicts with the world ; to drive away the cares and the troubles which oppress him ; to impart strength to his virtue, and courage to his soul; to win him to the service of his God. Her loving heart should be tuned to that Divine harmony which shall make it accord- ant with the innocent heart of childhood, that she may guide it in the path of truth and Holiness. Her firm prin- ciple should be strung to that lofty justice which shall make itself known throughout her retinue of servants, until they shall feel it to be their highest privilege to " look unto the hand of their mistress." And all this, manifold as it is, high and holy as it is, can be done only when she sits first at the feet of Jesus ; — only when she is guided by the Spirit of God. Her presence is felt every- where ; vibrates through every nerve of the holy circle of Home : but, oh ! how beautiful is it, when she comes, ra- diant from the presence of her God, her face shining as it were that of an Angel ! fourteenth Sermon, How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee? — Jere- miah iv. 14. nnH OUGHT is usually looked upon as an airy and volatile existence, running to and fro with the rapidity of lightning, coming we scarcely know whence, and flitting we scarcely know whither. We understand, in a general way, that it has been made a matter of science ; that indi- viduals, whom we sneeringly speak of as metaphysicians, have endeavored to ascertain the laws of its operation, and to establish rules for its government and guidance. We also know, that in severely disciplined minds it is subjected to regulations which control its wanderings and concen- trate its energy. But we do not know, or else we do not consider, that like every thing that exists thought has its natural laws ; and that if it be not disciplined, it will obey those laws as certainly as any thing else in creation answers to the natural impulses which have been impressed upon it by the hands of the Deity. And overlooking this most important truth, we become unconsciously subject to a do- minion which rules over us with a rod of iron, making us very slaves to that over which God intended us to be mas- ters and governors. Let us illustrate and justify the ex- pression of the prophet in our text, by briefly considering the laws of thought which stand connected with this sub- ject. In the question which Jeremiah asks of Jerusalem in our text, his words are these : " How long shall thy vain 140 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. thoughts lodge within thee 9 " as if certain thoughts might be spoken of as having taken up their abode in the mind ; as being privileged residents there ; while all other thoughts are treated as mere visitors. This expression seems, at first hearing, to be contrary to our usual conception of thought, — to make that fixed, which we consider variable ; certain, which we deem uncertain. A little consideration, however, will convince us that the expression of the prophet is literally and philosophically true ; and a few illustrations will satisfy you that there are thoughts — however uncon- scious you may be of their power — which do lodge within you, and look upon all other thoughts as intruders, whom it is their duty to expel as quickly and as completely as possible. We habitually speak, in ordinary conversation, of a per- son's thoughts running in a certain channel, — of their being steadily fixed upon a given subject, — of a man's having no thoughts for any thing else save that which, for the time, absorbs him : and all this is but a truthful utter- ance of the natural laws which direct and govern the mind. When we speak, however, after this fashion, we suppose all this to be voluntary. We never admit but that these thoughts are entirely under the control of the person of whom we are speaking, and that he can change their train and current whenever he pleases. And here it is — just at this point — that we are so mistaken ; — that we are overlooking a natural law, which, operating at first in agreement with our will, quietly gets dominion over us, and rules that will with a terrible and fatal despotism. It is like every other slavery to which we become subject. The transition from freedom to slavery is never abrupt and sudden. It is gradual and stealthy in its steps, seeming to be the result not so much of another's as of our own will ; and it is not until we feel the chains around us, and we are The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. 141 anxious to snap them asunder, that we realize how much we had been subject to controlling influences, even while we supposed that we were altogether voluntary agents. Precisely so with our trains of thought. At first these trains are voluntary ; they are fallen into either from edu- cation, or from interest, or because they are pleasant to us. We indulge them ; we connect them with our every-day feelings and affections ; they tinge by degrees every thing we look upon or are connected with : and thus an influence is given to them which they could never have attained, save by our own consent. When first adopted, they could have been controlled. We then admitted and dismissed them at our will. But, not preserving our mastery, they soon mastered us ; and, instead of visitors, coming and going when their time was out, they now lodge within us, as the prophet expresses it, and soon tell us that all other thoughts are to be the visitors, while they retain possession, and fully occupy the mind. The laws of habit and of asso- ciation have done their work, and we become very slaves ; unless we have the nerve, — which few possess, — to grap- ple with the tyrants, and dethrone them. It is the effect of this law of association upon the relig- ious character, that I desire to develop ; and I will con- fine my illustration of the imperiousness of these lodgers, when once they get possession, to cases in which they in- terfere with our religious duties. Let any one of you — whether a professor of religion or not — be absorbed in occupation of any kind, and I defy you, without an im- mense struggle, to perform any religious duty, in which these habitual trains of thought do not hurry off the at- tention and the feelings, and interrupt, if not altogether break up, your communings with God. Place the Word of God before you, realize in large measure its divine Revela- tion, determine that you will study and profit by that Book ; 142 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. but, before a very few minutes shall have elapsed, you will be humbled by finding that your thoughts are upon your cares, or your merchandise, or your pleasure, or your inter- ests. You gather them back from the subjects after which they have run astray. You renew your determination not to be disturbed in your religious duties. But very soon you find that thought is more uncontrollable than you supposed it, and that habit and association have become stronger than the will. Disgusted at this condition of things, you suppose that you have not sufficiently realized the sacredness of the Bible, and you determine to engage in some closer act of devotion, — one that shall bring you nearer to the awful presence of God. You fall upon your knees ; you begin, in earnest, to pray and to supplicate. So long as you are watchful over yourself, you are praying, you are supplicating; but suddenly you find that some word uttered in your prayer, some topic laid before God, some want, or necessity, or infirmity, — nay, the very prayer you are uttering against wandering thoughts, — has carried away your thoughts upon their habitual train, and that you are offering a lip-service and not a service of the heart. And how terribly these wandering thoughts interfere with the worship of the Sanctuary ! How they intrude them- selves at every point, interrupting devotion, and deafening the ear lest it should hear and understand, and the soul be converted and live. In all these cases, the conclusion is forced upon us that we are subject to these lodgers; that they have become the possessors of our minds ; and that, whether we will or not, we are dragged along by them con- trary to our better feelings and holier desires. These are thoughts, then, which lodge within us, — which are the habitual occupants of our minds : and it is against such that the prophet directs his inquiry. But he asks not his question of all thoughts. He confines it to The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. 143 vain thoughts ! " How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ? " And you may ask, u Are all trains of thought connected with the business or the interests of Life vain ? How can life be carried on without such trains of thought ? How can a man succeed, unless he fixes his mind steadily upon a given purpose, and pursues it with the energy of a resolute will ? " A very fair question, and one which I will answer by gradual approach, keeping in view, meanwhile, the pungent inquiry of the prophet. What are vain thoughts? What are such trains of thought as we should not permit to lodge within us ? This is the first step to the answer of your question ; and it must be settled by the balances of the Sanctuary. Provi- dentially, we possess the writings of a man who has him- self sounded all the depths of thought, and has deter- mined, from his own experience as well as under the inspi- ration of God, what thoughts are vain, and what useful, and where the line must be drawn between these classes. The Book of Ecclesiastes seems to have been written for the very purpose of replying to this inquiry. Let us trace the experience and note the decision of Solomon, and we shall then be prepared to state the relation which trains of thought connected with the business and pleasure of life should hold to the mind and heart of the creature. There are trains of thought which most of you would agree with me in pronouncing vain, and we would deem a man frivolous who made them his constant companions. Even these, however, Solomon did not overlook. In sound- ing the depths of human life, he turned first to those trains of thought which seemed superficially to present the near- est approach to happiness. He gave himself, he said, to mirth and to pleasure ; those were the thoughts which he first made to lodge within him. But these he quickly pro- nounced to be vanity, and worse than vanity : " I said of 144 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. laughter, It is mad : and of mirth, What doeth it ? " 1 He next attempted to combine pleasure and wisdom, to discover if a proper proportion of ingredients might not take out the sting of vanity from his pursuits. " I sought in mine heart to give myself unto wine, yet acquainting mine heart with wisdom : " 2 but these trains of thought he likewise dismissed as vain. Failing here, he turned himself to the pride of life. All the wealth which the gold of Ophir, and the spices of Arabia, and the rich tributes of the East could accumulate for him, he lavished upon houses and gardens, and orchards and men-servants and maid-servants, and all the delights of the sons of men. He surrounded himself with pomp and luxury, and floated in an atmos- phere of homage and idolatry that might have satisfied the greediest imagination. But these he also pronounces as vain thoughts : " Then I looked " — was his lamentable confession — " on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labor that I had labored to do : and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun." 3 He then turned himself solely to wisdom. He filled his mind with intellectual trains of thought. He compassed all the knowledge of the sons of men. Queens and nobles gathered to his feet to hear his words of wisdom ; and when they heard, confessed that they far surpassed his wide-spread fame. These noble trains of thought — the highest certainly which can en- gage the mind of man — he acknowledges to be as far above all others, as spiritual trains of thought are above them : " Then I saw," writes he, " that wisdom excelleth folly, as far as light excelleth darkness : " 4 but at once his clear spirit saw the weak point even of these, and he ex- claims in bitterness of spirit : " As it happeneth to the fool, so it happeneth even to me ; and why was I then more 1 Eccles. ii. 2. 2 Ibid. 3. 3 Ibid. 11. 4 Ibid. 13. The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. 145 wise ? Then I said in niy heart, that this also is vanity. Therefore I hated life : for all is vanity and vexation of spirit." 1 How far you may go along, my beloved hearers, with these conclusions of Solomon, I cannot pretend to say. Each of you will have your own stand-point, beyond which you will Dot admit vanity, — about which you will not consent that trains of thought are vain. The grave student will readily consent that the votaries of pleasure are altogether occupied with vain thoughts, which ought to be dislodged ; while the industrious man of business will peradventure come to the same conclusion about the student's days and nights of toil, over studies which make no money, and books which bring no return save knowledge. But Solo- mon includes them all in one sweeping denunciation ; al- lows no exceptions : and, while he gives each its proper grade, he concludes them all to be vanity. And he con- cludes correctly, even according to man's own estimate when made under circumstances in which all things can be brought to their true proportions. The first reason why all these trains of thought are vain, is because nothing finite can satisfy the cravings of a crea- ture made a living soul by the inbreathing of the Spirit of the Infinite. The body of man, it is true, was made of the dust of the earth ; but his living soul is the breath of God. Nothing, therefore, can ever satisfy man, but reunion with God. He may, like Solomon, drink every cup of excite- ment to the very dregs, and he shall surely find Vanity in- scribed within them all : and this, not only with trains of thought that are conversant about the gratification of our sensual nature, but with those also wherein the mind is fixed upon higher and nobler topics. When we read that Alexander wept because he had no more worlds to conquer, iEccles.ii. 15, 17. 10 146 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. or listen to the wailings of Byron as he sweeps his lyre with the hand of despair, confessing in the anguish of his heart that the vulture of unsatisfied desires is gnawing at his vitals, we perhaps feel that their pursuits were not such as might lead to peace and to rest. And yet they were only following with the impetuosity of Genius, what com- mon minds pursue every day in their own laggard way, and dignify with the name of " honorahle ambition " and " rational pleasure." But when we turn to such a man as Newton, and hear him — after a life spent in the acquire- ment of the profoundest knowledge, in the discovery of the hidden mysteries of things, in converse with Nature and with Nature's God in their most glorious developments — confessing that so far from being satisfied, he could only compare himself to one who had picked up a few poor peb- bles upon the shore, while the great Ocean of Truth lay as yet undiscovered before him : we must feel, with Solomon, that all our thoughts are indeed vain thoughts. Or if, leav- ing him, we ask the acutest skeptic of modern times for his estimate of intellectual absorption, the answer will come to you in his own memorable words, — memorable, because illustrating the vanity of a false philosophy; memorable, because confirming the solemn truth, " Be sure your sin will find you out ; " 1 memorable, because exhibiting the re- action of skeptical teachings upon the skeptic's own peace : " I know not," were the words of Mr. Hume, " what to believe. I feel myself to be afloat upon an ocean of doubt, without a compass, and without a rudder." If these be the results of the highest trains of thought, the one hum- bly engaged in the pursuit of Nature's truths, the other presumptuously attempting to shut God out of His own creation : well may we conclude that vanity and vexation -of spirit are written upon all the pursuits of men. 1 Num. xxxii. 23. The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. 147 Another reason, my beloved hearers, why all these trains of thought are included by Solomon under the general head of vanity, is because they cannot profit us in our hour of greatest need. If there be a future, — if, beyond this brief existence, there stretches an eternity of life, — oh, of how little moment is the present, with all its business, and cares, and pleasures, and petty interests ! How every thing ought to look to that moment of departure, when we shall cross the line between Time and Eternity, — when we shall put off this mortal life, and begin the life of spirit and immortality ! How every thought should overleap the narrow interval of our threescore years and ten, and con- centrate itself upon that solemn moment ! Vain must all thoughts be, miserably vain — however seemingly necessary for the conduct of life — all trains of thought, which can- not profit us then. Think you, my hearers, when that dread moment comes, — when, stretched upon your dying bed, you shall be called to make that narrow field the scene of unutterable struggles with your own spirit and the Spirit of God, — that you shall be satisfied to gather about you the thoughts which have lodged within you and made your minds their homes ? They may and will intrude them- selves, I know ; but will not your effort be to banish them, that thoughts more suited to such a time may rest upon your spirit? Is it man's wont, when dying, to summon before him the trains of thought in which he has indulged himself, and pass with them into the world of spirits ? Here and there have instances occurred of such a course. Mirabeau's was a striking example : but does not our nat- ural instinct cry out against it as monstrous ? Man meets Death, not like a brute, senseless and apathetic ; but like a rational creature, who, whatever may have been his forg'et- fulness of that dread hour, now that it has come, realizes its deep importance. He summons to his bedside the min- 148 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. ister of religion ; he asks the prayers of the pious and devout ; he grieves that so many precious years have been wasted upon vanity; and acknowledges — when too late, perhaps, for remedy — that the only train of thought which was of any real importance to him, was the only one in which he had not trained himself. Unless man's ordi- nary thoughts were vain thoughts, could this be so? Should he be loth to summon them about him, and die with them in his heart and upon his lips ? Oh, that you would heed the warnings of your fellow-creatures, and be- gin at once to strip away the vain thoughts which lodge within you ! And now, my hearers, I am prepared to ask you the question of the prophet. I have labored to illustrate the natural law by which associated trains of thought take pos- session of us and lodge within us. I have shown you that all these trains of thought, unless they be thoughts of God and of eternity, are thoughts of vanity, which can- not satisfy the spirit while it is embodied, nor comfort it when it is about to be disembodied, — which answer neither for life nor for Death. And I now demand of you, as rational creatures, " How long shall your vain thoughts lodge within you?" How long will you consent to pursue a course which promises you nothing either for time or for eternity ? You desire happiness ; you are seek- ing it hither and thither. Although baffled, you are still pursuing; although disappointed, you are still hoping. Al- though the peltings of the pitiless storm have beaten down your web ; so soon as it has passed, you see the rainbow in every drop that glitters on its broken threads, and weave again. Although the heavens of your bliss are ever rising as you advance, you still, childlike, expect to touch their azure when you reach your point. Why, oh why, children of the Divinity, will you waste your energies upon such The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. 149 baseless Visions ? Why, when the Infinite calls to you in love and mercy through the voice of his incarnate Son, saying, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," 1 why will you heedlessly press on, seeking that rest in the finite and the perishing ? Why, when the Fountain of living waters is bubbling forth from the foot of Jesu's Cross — that Fountain of which He said : " Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst," 2 — ivhy will you needlessly hew out for yourselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water ? Why, when Death is cleaving his ruthless track through the generations of your fellow-creatures that he may lay his inevitable grasp upon you, and usher you into the Eternal world, — that world where nothing here shall be of any importance, save the single question of time improved or neglected, — why will you concentrate, upon mind and heart and feelings, thoughts, vain thoughts, which His presence will scatter, as dreams are scattered when the awakening comes ? A mighty work is before you, in the dislodgment of your vain thoughts. It is idle to say to yourselves, " When the time of peril comes, we will gather our strength, and battle with these thoughts, and drive them from their place in our hearts." That time of peril is your dying bed : for any man who reasons thus, can mean only that. Alas, my hearers, you know neither your own weakness, nor your enemy's strength ! Let not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that put- teth it off ! Grapple with that enemy now, while in health of body and vigor of mind, whom you expect so easily to triumph over when a tortured body and a weakened intel- lect must be carried into the conflict. Try your strength with the vain thoughts that lodge within you now, at this present moment, and see if they can be so easily driven 1 S. Matt. xi. 28. 2 g # j 0 ^ n [ Yi 14, 1 50 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. from their stronghold. Are the habits and the associations of a long life to be so easily broken ? Are thoughts that have come with an every-day regularity for the years of a lifetime, that have intertwined themselves with our very individuality, to be so easily discarded at our wills ? The very laws and proverbs of our language should teach you another tale. What means " The ruling passion, strong in death," save that the vain thoughts which lodge within us assert their imperious dominion in that dread hour, and reign supreme ? " How long, how long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ? " Let it be, my hearers, not a day longer, lest it be forever ! For you, professing Christians, this question has its deep interest. You name the Name of Christ. You call your- selves His disciples. You rejoice in the riches of His grace. You partake of the bounties of His love. What are your habitual trains of thought ? What classes of ideas lodge within you ; and what classes merely come and go as visitors of duty or necessity? Is the tone of your mind spiritual ? Are your most usual trains of thought of God, your soul, and eternity? or have you permitted vain thoughts to take possession of the heart which belongs to Christ, and to drive Him out? Are you mingling in such scenes as foster vain thoughts ? Here lies the whole phi- losophy upon which turn the objections of the Ministers of God to the indulgence of His people in the pursuits and amusements of the world. Too much absorption in any thing not spiritual, creates and cherishes the trains of thought which interrupt meditation, and prayer, and com- munion with God. The Christian man who hurries ar- dently into politics or literature or business, the Christian woman who spends her nights in pleasure and her days in the routine of the world, will find alike that vain thoughts are rapidly lodging within them, to the obscuring of The Lodging of Vain Thoughts, 151 Christ's image, and the destruction of their own spirit- uality. We cannot be too watchful over ourselves. Even the most legitimate pursuits may be turned into thoughts that shall deface our spiritual character. Hence the con- tinual warnings of the Bible against lip-service, against the chambers of imagery, against the idolatry of the heart. My beloved hearers if any of you feel convicted of these vain thoughts, let the question of the prophet, " How long ? " be answered, in the words of the Psalmist : " Search me, 0 God, and know my heart : try me, and know my thoughts : and see if there be any wicked way in me." 1 Herein, likewise, lies the philosophy of Christian educa- tion. While these habits of thought are forming, while the uncorrupted heart and the unoccupied mind are weav- ing their associations, how essential that moral and relig- ious ideas should form the materials of those associations ! How ennobling to accustom the expanding thought to look upon Nature as one vast Temple, in which are seen every- where the footprints of the Creator, in which are felt every- where the breathings of His Holy presence ! How purify- ing to impress upon the fallen nature, ere yet its germs of evil have sprung into life and gained dominion over the soul, that the eye of God is ever upon His creatures, seeing in the depths and in the darkness even as in the light of day ! How consoling to be taught, in the very earliest struggles with sin, that a Saviour has died to give us the final victory; to be early strung with the hope that we shall one day be " conquerors and more than conquerors through Him who loved us and gave Himself for us." How elevat- ing to keep ever before the mind, while the character is forming, a perfect model such as Christianity has offered in our Saviour. If such thoughts can only be made to lodge within us in our early days, they will go far to prevent 1 Psalm cxxxix. 23, 24. 152 The Lodging of Vain Thoughts. the domination of those vain thoughts against which the prophet warns us. They will introduce into the mind the due subordination of thoughts of business or interest or pleasure, to the more solemn thoughts of the soul and of Eternity. They will become the basis of the character, the lodgers within the man : while all else will be entertained only as it may be necessary, or useful, or obligatory. And when the time of struggle comes — the time that is to test us all — of temptation, of trial, of adversity, of Death : these holy trains of feeling will rise up from the depths where they may have been overlaid, and assert their supremacy ! " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." Give him moral, pure, noble, spiritual trains of thought when the mind is budding and the character moulding ; and although vain thoughts may seem, for a time, to lodge within him, they will be found to have no dominion ; they will be able to exert no permanent supremacy. Neglect not, I beseech you, Chris- tian parents, the power God has placed in your hands for the ennobling of your children, lest you be called to mourn, in bitterness of spirit, over vain thoughts which you can- not dislodge. Weeds will grow in the soil of human na- ture without any planting, without any culture. Vain thoughts will spring there fast enough, without your foster- ing hands. Let your effort be to root out these with an unsparing power; to plant in those thoughts which shall connect your offspring with God and with Eternity. fitttmtl) Sermon. And God requireth that which is past. — Ecclesiastes iii. 15. TT requires a firm heart and an awakened conscience to enable us faithfully to weigh our relations to God. For it is not oniy in the present that we are concerned with Him, nor yet only in the future ; but our text tells us that " God requireth that which is past : " so that, while strug- gling against the assaults of daily temptation, and while casting into the future the glances of an anxious and trou- bled soul, we have likewise to be trembling for all that is past, knowing that for every work, and word, and even thought, we shall be finally called into judgment. And this accumulation of grave responsibilities too often drives the disturbed spirit away from their steady contemplation ; and, instead of meeting them face to face at once, and find- ing a remedy for all their terrors in the love and mercy of a reconciled Father, the trembling soul buries its painful thoughts in the excitements of life, attempting to quiet itself with the siren song of a future repentance, and a future amendment ! It forgets, alas, that, in this very act, it is adding one more to the already accumulated require- ments of the past, and is every day making more difficult that which must be atoned for through the blood of a cru- cified Saviour, or else met, in irremediable sternness, at the bar of an offended and holy God. The present, my beloved hearers, is all that can retrieve the past and brighten the future ; and unless you can muster resolution to act upon the Apostolic warning, " Now is the accepted time ; behold, 154 God requireth the Past. now is the day of salvation/' 1 the present will be ever swelling, — the pursuing past will be ever darkening the impending future. But many do not advance even to this point of consider- ation, but press on from day to day amid the busy cares of life, without at all thinking of the past. In their estima- tion it is gone, forever gone ; — sunk into the abyss of time, never more to be called up for use or for account. It has been lived ; has had its pleasures, its sorrows, its plans, its purposes ; and, having been lived, has no further end, save as its consequences give shape and complexion to the present. Living only for time and for the existing world, the past is made to have reference only to the onward course of things, and is merged, in the thoughts of such men, in the circumstances or conditions which have grown out of it. It is, in their view, like one of the ever chang- ing scenes of Nature, in which the fantastic shapes of the present moment are but the fragments of the images which just now rivetted our gaze. What delighted us or terri- fied us under the aspect of the sunshine and the storm, of the light and the shadow, has passed away ; and we forget it in the emotions of the present, and in the anticipations of the future. We never dream that those images can be recalled, that out of the chaos of those conflicting elements the past can ever return with its impressions of terror or delight. Vain man ! your reliance has no more foundation than the baseless fabric from which you have woven your imagery. And you will find, when too late, that every passing scene of life, — nay, every detail of that scene, — has been caught, as it passed, with the exactness of a stern reality, and will be made to repass before your conscience, with a distinctness of outline and an accuracy of partic- ulars surpassing any power of nature, or any work of art. i 2 Cor. vi. 2. God requireth the Past. 155 " For God requireth that which is past : " and, when He requires it, who can doubt His ability to summon up from the depths of by-gone ages their whole story of sin and of shame ? If He can impart to you, one of the weakest and feeblest of His creatures, the wonderful power of memory by which you can evoke, from the years that are gone, such scenes and words and acts and thoughts as you have treas- ured there ; nay more, if He can make the Sun, one of His inanimate creatures, to stamp upon material combinations the images that are subjected to its power : think you that He has not agencies at work that can bring back, for His purpose and your account, every act, every word, every thought, every imagination, every desire ? Surely the powers that are in yourselves, vain mortals, — the agen- cies that are all around you in Nature, — should teach you that the God of man and of Nature has an infinite control over the past, as well as over the future. But let us reason this matter by easy gradations up to the height upon which I desire to place you. In your own experience of life, is not God constantly requiring that which is past P I would remove you, for a moment, alto- gether from religious grounds, and place you where there is no demand for faith, save the belief of your own senses and your own consciousness. And I would ask you, Can you separate the present from the past ? Are not all the circumstances, the events, nay the feelings of the present, the offspring of the past, having the features, the impres- sions, the very mould of their parent ? Is not your present position in life the result of circumstances that are past ? and if that position be infelicitous, is not God requiring of you, in that position, the natural consequences of some- thing which was deemed long buried among the years that are gone ? We cannot walk through the circles of social life without seeing this law of past requirement in almost 156 God requireth the Past every family. Here, past extravagance is required of its victims, in irksome toil and struggling penury : there, youthful sensuality is working itself out in flame through flesh, and nerve, and muscle, and bone. Here, improvidence demands its pay in anxious brow and whitening hair ; and there, society is calling for the past of the criminal through its jails, its fetters, and its gallows. No man is rid of the past ! It pursues him from generations that are gone ; and when those who gave us birth are buried in their graves, it rises out of them and demands, in a natu- ral way, its inevitable consequences. Independent of the threat of God that He will " visit the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate Him," He has stamped the same unchang- ing decree upon natural society ; and were there no God to execute this threat, the constitution of things is such that it would execute itself, and write its judgment upon the history of individuals and of society. However man and society may have been called into existence, — what- ever his end and whatever his future, — this law of past requirement needs no omnipotent arm to bare itself for its enforcement. Man himself executes it upon himself and upon his fellow-men, and society executes it upon the masses which make up her aggregate existence. Advancing from this position, the truth of which you cannot deny, the next step brings us to all those evils and miseries which life is heir to, and unto which man seems as certainly born as the sparks fly upward. Many of the conditions of human life may be traced, as we said just now, to the operation of natural law, and the established sequence of things; but there are others for which we must seek a different solution. When we perceive the family of a villain writhing under the consequences of his criminality, we need no further investigation to enable us God requireth the Past. 157 to connect the effect with the cause ; but not so when we see the innocent die, and the good suffer, and the noble ca- lumniated, and a world rich in all the beauties of Nature and the blessings of Providence covered with disease, and pain, and suffering, and death. For these results we are obliged to seek some other solution ; and we find it in the same general law, but under a higher and more direct develop- ment. In all this evil and in all this sorrow we see God re- quiring that which is past ; but we know what that past is, only by Revelation. We briug you, therefore, to Revelation, and we show you, from the operation of the same natural law, a sameness in the God of revelation and in Him who has stamped the law of past requirement upon the constitu- tion and course of Nature. The Bible tells us that in all this misery God is requiring the sin that is past : and the very analogy of the operation should make it more easy for your credence. If you perceive God requiring, in a natural way, the sins of the fathers from the children, to the third and fourth generation, as far as your perception and knowl- edge can trace the connection : why should you deem it improbable that the same law should be extended backward and backward in the past, till it reaches up to that fountain of sin which has come into the world through our first parents, and brought with it all its crime and woe ? And how terrible a view it gives us of sin in its polluting and destructive character, when we perceive that one fatal act still pursuing a whole race from generation to generation ; and what an awful aspect it gives to the character of God, that He is still requiring that sin at the hands of man, even while He has given His only beloved Son to die for the destruction of sin, and to rise again for the justification of the past ! And can you doubt what is before you in the future, when you look at this development? What must be the wrath of God, and what His vengeance against a 158 God requireth the Past, lifetime of sin, aggravated too by its commission in the face of knowledge, of light, of mercy and of love ? If one sin thus haunts the world, making it wretched, — a very vale of tears : what must be the effect — upon character, upon feeling, upon happiness, upon the future — of a life of sin? Surely, when God comes to require the past of such a life, it will be, it must be, a fearful reckoning. Let us now take another view of this same subject, and look upon it in the light reflected from the Cross of our Redeemer. The saddest story in the whole history of life is that which details the requirement by God of the past in the Person of His Son, — His only-begotten and well-be- loved Son. All other stories of suffering are qualified by the feeling of error, or imprudence, or crime, on the part of the victims ; but in Him there was no sin. Spotless inno- cence was combined with meekness, with gentleness, with submission, — all the qualities which excite pity and move compassion. Nor was it the suffering of necessity, save as that necessity had been laid upon Himself by Himself, out of love for a sinful race. His was not the resignation of one who could not help himself : it was the firm endurance of unutterable woe by One who could have delivered Him- self in the twinkling of an eye, had He been willing to consign His brethren to hopeless destruction. His sub- mission was not the submission of one whom fetters and a prison and an armed soldiery could coerce : for He might at any moment have called from Heaven whole armies of angelic spirits, that could have burst all bars of man or Nature for His deliverance. No ! It was the holy resolution of Redemption ! it was the setting His face unmoved toward the Cross, and enduring, in that progress, humiliation, shame, ignominy, contempt, the desertion of friends, but above all the desertion of His Father, while He was bear- ing upon Himself the sins of a whole world ! And for God requireth the Past. 159 what ? For that same past for which humanity has been groaning* since the Fall ; for that terrible past, which God was requiring, and which could not be expiated save by the sufferings and blood of the covenanted Victim. And this, my hearers, is a more fearful illustration of that inexorable law of which we have been treating this morning, — of that stern, unyielding law of requirement by God which forms the topic of our discourse, — than any which has yet been offered, whether drawn from the course of Nature or from the direct effects of it through the intervention of God. In all other cases we see an indignant Deity requir- ing the past from those who created that past, or who derived their polluted descent from its creators: in this, we see Him requiring it from one innocent Being, whose past was sinless as His own; and that One His own beloved Son, the delight of His Being from eternity ! Ah, my hearers, as you gaze upon that Victim, — as you see Him faint, haggard, bleeding, dying, with no eye to pity and no arm to save, and in that agony contending with the Devil for the souls of men, — can you hope to escape this inevitable law? Can you dare to persuade yourself that your past will be forgotten ? He placed Himself in the room of sinful man, took upon Him the past of the race, and bound Himself in covenant to bear all that the past demanded : and yet, even He, God-Man, was for a moment staggered at the terribleness of His undertaking, — that moment when He said : " 0 my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me. " 1 How awful must be the bur- den of the past, when such a sin-offering as our Redeemer faltered on approaching His Father's stern requirement of it ! Well may weak, erring, sinful creatures, such as we are, tremble as we approach it ! And now, my hearers, that I have illustrated my text for 1 S. Matt, xx vi. 39. 160 God requireth the Past, you, — that I have shown from your own experience, and from the analogy of things, and from the miseries of the world as it lies under the curse of sin, and from the Cross of our Saviour, that God does indeed sternly require the past, let me ask you, in all earnestness, what has been your past ? You are aware that you form a link in that chain which connects sin with the anger of God ; — that you are an inheritor of that corruption which, commencing in Adam, has been accumulating all through the past, taxing to the uttermost the forbearance and long-suffering of God. But it is not of that general corruption I now ask you ; it is of your own peculiar past that I make my inquiry. What has been — I ask it of every one here present — your past ? If it were required of you now, this instant, what should that past of yours offer to stay the indignation of God, or to disarm His vengeance ? Putting it at the very best, would even you dare to say that it was harmless? But your partial judgment is not that which is to pass upon it. It is God that requireth the past ! — God, such as He is portrayed in the Scriptures ; God the Holy, in whose sight the heavens are not clean, who chargeth His angels with folly ; God the Just, who layeth judgment to the line and righteousness to the plummet ! Nor is your fallible and partial memory to call up that past. It is to be dragged to light and burned in upon your consciousness by a God who is omniscient, who searcheth the hearts and trieth the reins of the children of men ; who has noted not only your deeds, not only your words, not only your thoughts, but every gleam of desire, every vain imagination, every nascent motive ; who has recorded not only what you have committed in the course of an active and busy life, but what that very activity and business have caused you to leave undone ! Oh ! how it will cumulate and accumulate upon you, as it rises up from the abyss of the forgotten, God requireth the Past. 1 6 1 until you will stare in horror at the heap of transgressions, and sink overwhelmed with the idea of meeting them face to face ! Ah ! rny hearers, your actual deeds will form but a small portion of your past. It is thought, feeling, desire, motive, that will make up the hideous mass. You will never realize until that moment comes what an active, busy, rest- less, burning element of being was your heart ! how out of it were the issues of life, while you were measuring only acts ; how it was sinning against God in its own deep and unfathomable recesses, while not a word was uttered, not a work performed ! how it raged, like a concealed volcano, bubbling and boiling within its own bosom, while, without, it was covered with calmness and with beauty. When all this shall be unveiled, — when that chamber of imagery shall be turned inside out and all its linings displayed as yours, — how unlike shall it be to the self-complacent pic- ture of the past which you now conjure up ; as unlike as the faint outline of scenes and circumstances which we can recall in our conception, when compared with those scenes and circumstances themselves as they occurred with all their detail and ail their distinct coloring ! Are you prepared, my hearers, to meet that past ? You see how terrible it is like to be, how dissimilar from that with which you satisfy yourselves : have you taken the very first step towards meeting it ? Nay, have you ever even considered that you will have to meet it ? I fear me that every thing connected with your past has yet to be con- sidered : that if you have been able at all to separate your thoughts and affections from the present, they have only turned from its cares and its enjoyments to revel in the hopes of the future. I fear me that you have yet to be convinced that the past is upon your track, that it is hunt- ing you with slow unfaltering pace to the judgment-seat of Christ. And if my fears be true, what a condition is 11 l62 God requireth the Past. yours ! Your boat is gliding swiftly down the current that is hurrying you onward to the abyss. The deep, hoarse murmur of the eternal cataract is sounding louder and louder as you approach its awful brink. If once you are swept into the rapids, nothing can save you from inevitable destruction. The swift waters that are hurrying madly be- hind you will go over your soul, — will press and break you down under their overwhelming weight ! Your only hope is, at once to be aroused to your true position ; — at once to face that smoothly gliding current, and, ere it is too late, to escape from its treachery and its doom! Let not the calm present deceive you. Let not the gentle current of life sweep you along, forgetful of what is behind you, forget- ful of what is before you. Pause, I pray you, and seek some haven of rest for your struggling, panting soul ! But you may say, " God requireth the past," and how can I meet it in the stern severity of which you have been speaking? How can I meet so holy, so just, so omni- scient a God, when He comes to weigh all my past in the scales of His even-handed justice? Well may you ask, "How? " Would to God that I could bring you to ask Him in earnest, and with trembling ; that I could make you ac- knowledge with Job, " I know it is so of a truth : but how should man be just with God? If he will contend with him, he cannot answer him one of a thousand." 1 " The first step in the ascent to heaven," said the ancient in- scription upon the Temple of Isis, " is downward to the hell of self-knowledge." Could you only take that first step, — could you be made to see yourself as God sees you ; to feel that "if you wash yourself with snow-water, and make your hands never so clean ; yet God shall plunge you in the ditch, and your own clothes shall abhor you," 2 ah ! then should I have hope ! Then might I point you to a i Jobix. 2, 3. 2 Ibid. 30, 31. God requireth the Past 163 Saviour, who has atoned for the past, who has taken it all upon Himself, and borne it already for you, in the mysteri- ous purposes of the Godhead. But I dare not do it while you are unconcerned about that past ; for I should per- chance be adding to your terrible past this further sin of crucifying afresh the Son of God. TVTiat a terrible strait is this ! I know that there is none other Name under Heaven given unto man whereby he may be saved but only the Xame of Jesus Christ of Nazareth : and yet, to fear that the preaching of that precious Xanie may only aggra- vate the past ! May God of His infinite mercy arouse you to a true sense of your condition, so that you may indeed ask " What must I do to be saved ? " 1 and receive with obedient hearts the joyful response : " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." 2 And to you who profess the Naine which is above every name, let me say a few words of advice and of love. " The heart/' fellow-Christians, " is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." 3 What a description ! Beware of that heart ! It may deceive you as to your present con- dition ! It may lead you to believe that your past has been blotted out, while yet it may be pursuing you with all its bitterness and malignity : or it may beguile you to say, with the Antinomian, Let us " continue in sin, that grace may abound." 4 Either of these would be destruction to you ! For while it is true that there is a " fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanness, " 5 it is of no efficacy for those who continue in sin — willful sin. Examine, therefore, yourselves,j>efore the approaching celebration of the Lord's Supper.] See that your hearts are right with God ; and " so search your own consciences (and that not lightly, and 1 Acts xvi. 30. 4 Rom. vi. 1. 2 Ibid. 31. 5 Zech. xiii. 1. 3 Jer. xvii. 9. 164 God requireth the Past. after the manner of dissemblers with Godj hut so) that ye may come holy and clean to snch a heavenly Feast, in the marriage-garment required by God in Holy Scripture." J Upon your sincerity and earnestness will depend God's deal- ings with you. He will require the past of every sinner ; but for those who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity and truth, there shall be no past at the judgment-seat of Christ. His past shall become their past : and their sanc- tified spirits will not be required to tremble for that which is behind ; but will be filled with joy unspeakable and full of glory for that which fills up all the future, — the love of God in Christ, — in the blessed land where there shall be no more curse. 1866. ^tjteent^ Sermon. Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin, altars shall be unto him to sin. — Hosea viii. 11. TTNBELIEF, while always the same in essence, assumes ^ a thousand shapes to suit the times in which it may be circulating. A form of infidelity, gross and sensual as that which disgraced the court of the second Charles, could have no currency in an age like this, when at least a show of decency is necessary to give power to any thing which calls itself Truth. Nor would the ignorance and flippancy of the French infidelity find any more countenance among us ; because the Scriptures, universally diffused and known as they are, could no longer suffer from the garbling and misinterpretation of shallow profanity. But while this is true, unbelief may be none the less rife, and may be all the more dangerous, because it assumes the cast of thought which is prevalent among educated men. The serpent which can put on the hue of the forest through which it is gliding, steals the more surely and inevitably upon the unwary traveller. While he sees only what appears to him to be the natural motion of the leaves and the twigs, his enemy is close upon him, and is already filling the atmos- phere with the poison which is to fascinate and then de- stroy him. And in like manner that form of irreligion which assimilates itself most closely to the spirit of the times, is the most perilous, because the most natural and unsuspected. It approaches us in such accustomed lan- 1 66 Ephraims many Altars to Sin. guage, and at such happy moments ; it whispers in our ears in such a familiar tone, and its whisperings are so like the voices which we daily hear ; it involves us, hefore we are startled at our danger, with such an enervating atmosphere of corrupt and poisonous sentiment : that we are in the coils of the old Serpent, that subtle Destroyer, before we even conceive that peril is nigh us. And even when we have been warned, — when the finger of experi- ence and of love has pointed out to us the baleful eyes and beauteous skin of the approaching enemy, — those eyes are so like the glittering dew-drops, and that skin so like the colorings of Nature, that we perish gazing upon the insid- ious foe. Alas for man ! — that he cannot learn that the natural stands forever linked, in this world, because of sin, with that which is sensual and corrupt. There is, perhaps, no form of ungodliness more rife or more dangerous at this present day than that which tempts us to believe that every kind of worship, if it be only sin- cere, is acceptable with God. The tendency of the times is to strike at every thing positive and distinctive ; — to put all systems, all institutions, — nay, all men — upon an ig- noble level. Every thing that was considered undoubted and established, is to be once again placed in the scales of judgment, and weighed anew by the present generation ; and nothing is to be considered wisdom which is not de- cided to be so by the charlatans of the current time. If this spirit were confined to science and literature, or even to politics and government, however we might deprecate it even in these, we should leave it to taste, and experience, and interest, to rectify the evil. But when it is unsettling and confounding morals and religion, when it is encourag- ing men to make experience and utility the basis of truth, it is time for the wise to look about them, and for the guardians of Revelation to strike for their Altai's and their Ephraims many Altars to Sin. 167 God. Woe to the world, when men learn, — and learn it too from what are called " the churches of God," — that right and wrong are not to be settled by the Bible ; that there is nothing positive in religion ; that God has dictated no form of belief as essentially necessary to salvation ; that He looks with no more favor upon one worshipper than another, provided each is equally sincere in his creed and in his practice ! Woe to that same world, when such prin- ciples as these become the prevailing sentiments of men ; for it will inevitably be hurried back, through folly and crime, to anarchy and barbarism ! When we take our first step in sin, we little conceive where that false movement will conduct us. It is only after a sad experience that we come to understand the effects which sin produces upon our own hearts, and appre- ciate the difficulty which there is in resisting its corrupting and downward tendencies. We imagine that the whole mischief of a sin is in the sin itself ; that when it has done its evil, of whatever kind, upon its object, its bitterness is over: and thus it happens that we leave out of view the most terrible consequences of sin, — those consequences which this text indicates, and which I desire to bring dis- tinctly to your notice. The progressive powers of sin are its most terrible powers ; and when the restraining influ- ence of God's hand is lifted from them, and they are per- mitted to come in like a flood, woe to that people or that individual upon whom they exert their overwhelming force ! They are swept on, as by an irresistible fate, to utter cor- ruption and destruction. And it is only necessary for God to issue the decree of my text, " Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin, altars shall be unto him to sin," and the work is fairly begun. There is nothing thencefor- ward to check its career, either in the nation or the indi- 1 68 Ephraim s many Altars to Sin. vidual, until God's punishment be exhausted, and the en- tail be cut off through His mercy in Christ Jesus. When Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, raised a false wor- ship in Bethel, and the children of Israel consented to call upon God there, instead of at Jersusalem Where*God had appointed that they should worship Him, he established a precedent which, in consistency, he could never oppose when it should be carried to an extent beyond his own in- tention. It was not the purpose of Jeroboam to lead the Israelites away from Jehovah ; he only desired to lead them away from Jerusalem. His object was, not to declare war against the Jewish religion ; but only to modify i{, so far as was necessary to carry out the separation which he had made of the Ten Tribes from the remaining Two. But the moment that he committed himself to this line of action, he had set the example of disobedience to God's express command that His Temple and Altar and Priesthood should be at Jerusalem ; and had infused into every man's mind the principle that a seeming necessity justified the abandonment of God's command, and the substitution, in its place, of man's will and interest. And when this pre- cedent was followed by Ephraim, so that many altars were reared in Israel, these altars were permitted by God all over the land, — altars upon every hill and mountain, and under every green tree, until idolatry the foullest and the most degrading usurped the place of the worship of Jehovah. Altars to Baal and Ashtaroth, to Tammuz and Peor, defiled the land; and it required the direct interference of God, through His prophets, to bring Ephraim back to the wor- ship from which he had thus gradually but surely wan- dered. And we can easily perceive, when the thing is brought to our notice, how it comes to pass naturally and inevitably. Ephraims many Altars to Sin. 169 The very principle upon which it proceeds, is that by which its final destruction is ensured. Like the brood of Error in Spenser's allegory, the moment it is born it begins to feed upon its own mother. The principle of disobedience and self-will which justified the first deviation, will justify all that follow; until no authority is left, and every one judges for himself, according to his fancy, or his interest, or his passion. If Jeroboam might modify the national worship, so might Ahab, and Jezebel, and Joram, and under cloak of the principle introduce the worst systems of Idolatry. The progress was only natural. Change is delightful to the human heart ; especially a change which enables it to cast off established authority, and substitute for what is stern and self-denying something which is ex- citing and pleasurable. And, growing by what it feeds upon, the appetite craves incessant gratification, and presses on from one degree of licentiousness to another, until Truth itself is abandoned, and every thing established by God is swept away from the altars of men. " Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin, altars shall be unto him to sin." His act rebounds upon himself ; and he is forced, from the necessity of consistency, not only to justify, but to partake of, sins far more gross than any he ever contemplated. And are we not, in this country, passing through pre- cisely this experience? Is not our religious history fast verging upon this decree uttered by the prophet ? Are we not dividing and subdividing into innumerable sects, each one setting up its own altar, and each altar further and still further removed from the doctrine and discipline of Christ ? Where is the Unity of Christ ? Where is that one Faith, one Lord, one Baptism, of which we read in the Epistles ? Has not the progress been rapidly downward, striking in turn at every thing distinctive in doctrine, and bringing in 170 Ephraims many Altars to Sin. arrangements of religious worship more and more radical ? Is not God manifesting the law of His government by permitting these altars to multiply; and, as they multiply, to be more and more irregular and profane ? Are not " churches " which we once hoped still clung to the truth of doctrine, abandoning that truth article by article, and adhering only to what suits their interest or their passions ? Are not denominations of Christians which once com- manded respect by their compactness and their firmness, now losing even that by their innumerable subdivisions and the reception of principles which must lead to still worse and worse ? Look at the rapid deterioration of religion in many parts of the United States, once the most rigid and devout ! Look at the doctrines which are now publicly pro- claimed throughout the land, — which are gathering dis- ciples, — which are forming sects ; — doctrines of devils, fit only for execration and condemnation. See the indif- ference of the people to this rapid corruption of Truth, to this denial of our Saviour, to this blotting out of the Holy Ghost, to this contempt for doctrinal truth, to this irrever- ence for the word of God and for every thing established by it, to this abrogation of heaven and of hell ! Ephraim is making many altars to sin, crowding them over the length and breadth of the land : and, true to the principle of its action, his law is being fast made the banner under which idols of every hue and shape, — idols of imagination, of sentiment, of will, of pride, of lust, — are to take the place of Christ and His Church. And what is worse, Christians themselves seem blinded to the condition of things, and are comforting themselves with the idea that Religion is ad- vancing through the land, when it is really fast running into the foullest corruption. Could the mighty Edwards rise from his grave, and cast his eyes over his own once fruitful field of labor, where should he find the doctrines Ephraims many Altars to Sin, 171 which he preached, the discipline which he reverenced? Could the eloquent Mason he given hack again to earth, how would he thunder against the degeneracy of the times, and ask in vain for the habits of devotion and the morals of life which he adorned and illustrated ! Could Whitfield and Wesley survey the masses which have congregated around the altars they erected, how would they shudder at much which calls itself by their name, and mourn, in bitter- ness of spirit, that they ever turned aside from the good old paths in which they had been trained ! And the worst is not yet. It is only beginning : and if these things are done in the green tree, what shall we look for in the dry ? Ah ! my hearers, if you would only study the aspect of the times, in its moral and religious point of view, you would tremble at what is fast coming upon you, — tremble for your Altars and your firesides ! But, instead of that, you are carried along with the current ; and conceive that Eph- raim has full right to create as many altars as he pleases ; and to rend the seamless garment of Christ into shreds and tatters ! But it is not only by a natural law that this deterioration will go on. After Ephraim shall have raised many altars to sin, God's action will become judicial, and Ephraim's sin will find him out in a still more terrible way. Up to a cer- tain point, this erection of altars will be the product of his own will. He shall be sinning- against li^ht and con- science, against warning and the Holy Spirit ; but when, in defiance of these, he shall have made many altars to sin, "altars shall be unto him to sin." His appetite shall be glutted to its fullest extent. Means and appliances the most ample shall be furnished him for idolatry. Doctrines more false and monstrous, opinions more profane and li- centious, opinions more hideous and disgusting, shall meet his eager mind, and he shall rush to their embrace with a 172 Ephrainis many Altars to Sin. greediness which will prove that the Holy Spirit hath left him, and that he is bound up in the wings of the wind ! Alas for us ! We are nurturing our worst enemy within our own bowels ; we are breeding an innumerable spawn of error that will finally consume us. God is our only refuge, and His Church the only ark of safety amid these agitated waves of self-will, of irreverence, and of ungodliness. Un- less we turn to them, the sun which rose upon a people who loved and honored the Altars of the living God, will go down in blood upon altars reeking with every unclean and unwholesome sacrifice. But this text, while its primary reference is to sins against religious worship, has also its stern application to individuals. The Church of the Israelites is often used in Scripture to represent the pilgrimage of the Christian, — to furnish instruction and reproof to the individual as he fights the battle of his soul. Every man may find in Eph- raim a warning, — the dealings which God will exercise upon himself, if he turn away and make altars to sin. The like process goes on with the individual, as with the peo- ple ; with the single Christian, as with the believing nation. It begins in what we consider a necessity meeting us in our path of life ; and ends in a desertion of the Holy Spirit, the most hopeless which can befall a human creature. It is an exceedingly dangerous thing for a Christian to tamper with Truth, — to make it at all subservient to any of the interests or passions of life. Truth is one and fixed ; revealed by God through his inspired messengers, and written down for the use of man. It cannot be mis- taken ; for it is united in Christ, with that Life Eternal which we profess to be seeking for. " I am the way, the truth, and the life," 1 said Christ ; and if we will walk in 1 S. John xiv. 6. Ephraim s many Altai's to Sin, 173 Christ, we cannot miss either Truth or Life. Many, and they among- the poorest and plainest people, have found it through simple obedience : have listened to the voice of the Church, saying, " This is the way, walk ye in it/' 1 and have thus drank in all Truth. God has revealed to us in the Xew Testament a fixed, positive doctrine : " Neither is there salvation in any other than Jesus Christ of Xaza- reth." 2 "Without shedding of blood is no remission." 3 " Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he can- not enter into the kingdom of God." 4 " There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling ; one Lord, one faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in vou all." 5 A doctrine which, when combined, teaches as settled a system as that of the Old Testament ; a system having a Creed, and Sacraments, and Church institutions. "What reason has any man who leaves all this solemn truth, and devises a doctrinal system for himself, to expect any other treatment than Ephraim received ? Xothing, my people, excuses disobedience. It will always fetch down the denunciation of the prophet : " Because Ephraim hath made many altars to sin, altars shall be unto him to sin." And what can sound more fearful, my hearers, than such a declaration as this ? You are not Christians ; be- cause you are trusting in altars of your own, and upon which you are burning your various sacrifices. One builds an altar, and calls it " Integrity," and offers upon it justice, and honesty, and fair dealing between man and man. Another follows his example, but calls his altar " Benevo- lence," and trusts that the sacrifices which he makes thereon to the poor and the widow and the orphan may enter into the presence of God, and atone for his sins. 1 Isaiah xxx. 21. 2 Acts iv. 10, 12. 3 Heb. be 22. 4 S. John UL 5. « Eph. iv. 4-6. 174 Ephr aim's many Altars to Sin. Yet another designates his altar hy the name of " Good works," and feels assured that the zeal and devotion and bodily exercise which are spent thereon must be sufficient to win the favor of God. Still another altar is seen to rise before us and upon it is inscribed, " God is a spirit, and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth ; " and its worshippers imagine that a service of the heart, without outward profession, without forms or sacra- ments, must find favor with a spiritual God. How sad that these altars, with their noble inscriptions, with their frag- ments of the truth, must all fall under the category of the prophet's denunciation ; that these blessed truths, which have been snatched from the consecrated Altar of the sanc- tuary of God, should, by that violence, have been turned into falsehood ; that these sightly altars, which rise so proudly from the surface of society, should be altars unto sin ! Where is then your hope ? You worship not as God has commanded you to worship, because you are trusting in this miserably delusive principle, — that one altar is as good as another in the sight of God ; that " His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right " ; that the sacrifice of good deeds, of zeal, of devotion, of sincerity, of benevo- lence, is as potent as the Sacrifice of the Death of Christ." Alas for your fatal error ! You will find, at the last, that Christianity is a positive thing; that salvation is by one narrow road, through one straight gate ; and that all altars save that One which has been stained with the Blood of the Lamb, are altars unto sin ! You may ask, What is my remedy when I find myself in this condition ? If by any means you have placed yourself in a wrong position in this matter, retrace your steps. It may cost you some humiliation ; some sacrifice of feeling, or of interest: but any thing is better than to plunge through life in error, and then perhaps to lose your soul. Ephraims many Altars to Sin. 175 And you will lose it. just as certainly as you rest in the de- lusion of being saved because you are "honest M and " sin- cere." How can you be sincere when you refuse to obey the plain written commands of your God and Saviour : unless you place yourself in the category of infidelity, and say that you do not believe them to be His commands ? How can you be sincere when, ranking yourself as a Chris- tian and hoping for a Christian's future condition, you are yet not fulfilling a Christian's duty ? But you may answer : " I am trying to live as a Christian, and to perform all my obligations to my fellow-beings, my obligations of integrity, of benevolence, of good works : and I am worshipping God in spirit and in truth. " Running back to those old altars, which I proved to you were altars to sin ! But have you obeyed Christ's commands ? Have you been confirmed ? Do you partake of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, which Christ commanded you to do in remembrance of Him ? If you were a Christian, or wanted to be a Christian, you would do as Christ commands you: — you would worship God where and as He instructs you : you would connect yourself with the visible Church : you would live upon His Spirit. You may be sincere when you say you cannot be- lieve ; but that sincerity will not avail you. because it is a positive command : " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shait be saved ; " 1 and equally as positive on the other hand : " He that believeth not shall be damned/" 2 You may be sincere when you say that you cannot repent : but that sincerity will not avail you, because the declaration is positive : " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." 3 No man can be sincere when, with the Bible in his hands, he counts himself a Christian, and yet obeys not the posi- tive commandments of Christ. You are trifling with words and with your conscience. You are laying up for yourself 1 Acts xri. 31. 2 ^jark xyi> 16> s s. Luke xiii. 3. 176 Ephraims many Altars to Sin. the heaviest of all punishments, — the finding out, at the last, that although you have made many altars and sacri- ficed diligently upon them, they are only altars to sin. Your remedy is to do with your altars as Elijah did with the altars to Baal, — sweep them from your heart : and turn in faith and humility and obedience to that only Altar which has streamed from everlasting with the blood of the Lamb " that taketh away the sins of the world." 1866. ^cbcntectttl) Sermon. And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be over- charged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares. For as a snare shall it come 07i all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth. — S. Luke xxi 34, 35- TX many of the addresses of our Lord to His disciples He — pursued the plan which had been arranged for the de- livery of prophecy, giving His instructions a double sense, the one applicable to the times which then were, the other stretching into a distant futurity. While the substance of His remarks, like the groundwork of prophecy, had its reality in the circumstances which encompassed them, they were couched in language which forbade their limita- tion to the events of time. As the prophecy, for example, which made David and his earthly kingdom its basis, was at once transferred, by epithets of surpassing magnificence and eternal duration, to the Messiah and His heavenly Kingdom : so the words of our Lord, which applied imme- diately to the destruction of Jerusalem and the terrible calamities which should accompany its fall, were insensibly passed over, by an intermixture of sublime imagery, to the destruction of the world, and the awful scenes of the Judg- ment Day. Thus it happened, that language like that of my text was applicable not only to those who heard it, but to those who should receive it until the end of time ; — that the exhortation to take heed lest that day should come upon them unawares, was a warning not only to the inhab- itants of Jerusalem, but to the people of the whole earth. 12 178 The Coming of the Day of the Lord. The mode in which this coming of the Day of the Lord is spoken of in the New Testament always embodies the idea of suddenness, of unexpectedness ; and in our text it has the additional idea of coming as a snare. " But as the days of Noe were," says our Lord in S. Matthew, " so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. For as in the days that were before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the ark, and knew not until the flood came, and took them all away ; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be." 1 And as it shall be with all who shall be alive at the second coming of the Lord, so is it now, even to-day, with us who are living upon the earth. There is, in the coming of Death, a suddenness, an unexpectedness, and ofttimes an ensnaring, which is awful to the very last degree. Take heed lest " that day come upon you una- wares." In this point of view does not the Son of Man find us every day just in the same condition in which our Lord foretells that the world shall be found at His second com- ing, " eating and drinking, marrying and giving in mar- riage"? Although Death hovers perpetually over us, although we witness every day the strokes which he inflicts, and follow, in slow funeral procession, his victims to the tomb : we make but little preparation against his coming* to ourselves. We are all living under the same sky, drink- ing in the same atmosphere, engaged in the same pursuits, subjected to like influences: but when Death takes our neighbor or our friend, and leaves us, — not a whit more worthy to live or less exempt from the power of Death, — we never pause in the career of life to ask, " Why was he taken and I left " ? We press forward mechanically, like well-disciplined troops, who have to face a certain danger ; 1 S. Matt. xxiv. 36-39. The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 179 the gaps are filled up so soon as they are made ; and an unbroken front is ever presented, even while an incessant and unsparing carnage is going on around us. We step directly into the shoes of those who have been taken off, occupying the houses they have vacated, filling the offices they have left behind, carrying on the business they have suddenly dropped, never heeding the warning their absence has given us. And thus we press forward, like wave suc- ceeding wave, until we ourselves are broken upon the great shore of Eternity, and we pass away amazed, if we have time left us for amazement, at the unexpectedness of the summons into another world. And yet why should we be amazed? Every illness, every accident, every death of friend or acquaintance or relation, was warning us that it would be so ! But we somehow dreamed that we should have some special notice, that disease or Death would creep upon us gradually and give us full warning; that we should see his dart poised at us, long ere it left his hand, and have time for numbering our days and for laying aside our every-day cares and concerns, for setting' our houses in order, for making our peace with God, before it reached our hearts. But as all others have found it, save the few to whom God has granted wisdom to live as pilgrims and strangers on the earth, so shall we find it : Death will come on us " like a snare " ! Let us look at this matter in a practical way, especially now, when we seem to be living under a dispensation of Death ! There are living in this city of ours many thou- sands of our fellow-creatures, some of whom die every day, every day. Which of those who die expects it ? Here and there is one whose lingering disease would lead you to expect to see him looking for his end ; yet even by such a bedside do I find, ofttimes, as little preparation as by that of him who has been arrested in the vigor of his age. 180 The Coming of the Day of the Lord. With a certainty upon the mind of every one else, that a few days, or at most a few weeks, must end his course on earth, the sick man is planning for the future ; and shows to all who look upon him that when Death finishes what disease has begun, he will come as unexpectedly as to the child or to the healthful. And walk with me the market- place, or the marts of business; thread the crowded streets: and tell me which of those absorbed and eager beings is expecting Death ? Which of them has thought of it ere he left his home, and has asked God's protection through the day ? Stop one, and tell him that within a few days he will be tolled to his burial, and that he will die in no extraordinary way, by no casualty, by no sudden stroke, but in the common and usual course of disease : and he will be as utterly incredulous as if God had made him immortal ! convince him of it, and he will complain of the suddenness of the stroke, and will supplicate for time for preparation ! And yet how few have really any longer time than this for preparation, taking the usual course of dis- ease in our climate. And this is no exaggerated case. Take the deaths which have occurred this very summer among our acquaintances, and have they not all exhibited this phase of suddenness, of unexpectedness, if that can be called sudden and unexpected which is ordinary ? To- day we meet an acquaintance as busy as ourselves ; and the next notice we have of him is, that we are summoned to pay the last tribute to his memory. Did he expect Death any more than we ourselves? Had he any more cause to look for it than we ? When we met him, the dart was act- ually projected against him : but did we perceive that he was the least conscious of it? Was his brow troubled? Perchance it was ; — but with the cares of this world. Was his cheek pallid ? Perchance it was ; — but with anx- iety about his worldly interests. Was he setting his house The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 181 in order, and stripping himself of his absorbing thoughts ? Perchance he was ; — but it was by laying up for his future comfort and ease, or drowning himself in luxury and enjoy- ment. Did he speak of Death to you ? " Death ! why, he was not thinking of Death. He was telling me of his plans and projects for years to come, of his hopes and his anticipations in a long futurity. Death, why, yes ! he did speak of such and such an acquaintance who was nigh unto Death; but he had always some good reason why such an one should die, which could not, he thought, be brought home to himself. He had unwisely exposed him- self ; or his constitution was naturally weak ; or he was a stranger to the climate : " something that took him out of the category of Death's victims. Is not this within the experience of every one of you? Then why may not his experience be our own very soon ? Xay, is it not certain that it must be our own ere long? We shall go, as he went, unexpectedly, to fill our grave, and give our account. Let us leave the streets, where you may suppose there would not be found much expectation of Death, and enter into the Church, where the subject is unceasingly brought to the notice of the people. Those whom you find upon Sundays in the churches of Christ include probably all his elect people, — those who, in imitation of the Apostles, should truly feel that to them " to die is gain." 1 Which of you, my hearers, — for, by your presence here, you stand to-day in this category, — is expecting Death? — is waiting and watching for him as your deliverer from trial and trouble and sorrow ? To which of you, if the angel of the Lord were now to say to you, " The Master is come, and calleth for thee," 2 would the sound come as an alto- gether welcome one ? Who would answer upon the in- stant, with a shout of joy, as S. John cried, when Christ 1 Phil. i. 21. 2 s> j ohn xi . 28. 1 82 The Coming of the Day of the Lord. said " Surely I come quickly : " " Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus " ? 1 I do not ask, Which of you would he pre- pared to die ? That is quite another question ; and I an- swer for you that, I trust, many : hut, Which of you is so living, as that it would not come unawares ? There is such a thing as dying in a state of faith, while yet we die not in a state of preparation. We go to Christ, hut we leave not behind us a testimony to His power over Death and the Grave. We realize our reward; but we glorify not our Saviour in our latter end. But Christ tells us that this coming of the Son of Man will he not merely unexpected, but " as a snare " upon those that are upon the earth. And this requires a little elucidation, that you may see how fully it is verified before our eyes even in these days. The snare which expresses the coming of the Son of Man, and to which it is likened, is something which is laid so like the appearance of Nature and the usual condition of things, that it does not alarm those for whom it is spread. And it has likewise another feature which constitutes its peril, and that is, that it is baited with such allurements and enticements as draw men into it, and entrap them to their destruction. That feature which will make the coming of the Son of Man so sudden and so unexpected is that, as in the days of Noe, the world will be found in its natural and normal condition, eating and drinking, sowing and reaping, marry- ing and giving in marriage. Every thing will be as it has been every day for ages and generations. Men will be car- rying on the same pursuits ; will be engaged in the like occupations ; will be excited by the same passions, and absorbed in the like pursuits. There will be no visible changes in Nature. The Sun will rise each day as bright 1 Rev. xxii. 20. The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 183 and unclouded out of the chambers of the east, rejoicing as a bridegroom to run his course ; and he will sink each night into his bed of clouds, as unchanged as if the world were to endure forever. The moon, which comes in her appointed season, will shed her mild beams of softened light upon stream and tower, upon forest and lake, upon the crowded city and the desert wilderness, as if no change were ever to take place in Nature or Nature's laws. Man will ask, " Where is the promise of his coming ? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation ? " 1 And this is the snare, that men think that coming will be preceded by some tokens which shall mark it, by some shadow forecasting itself upon the world, which will indicate it to all observers. But not so ! When it comes it shall have no sign that the natural man can see, no forecast that shall give expectation to the world. The spiritual mind will be looking for the promise ; the student of the Bible will have the foreshad- owing of Prophecy ; the signs of the times shall be such as they have been foretold : but all natural, however intensi- fied; all in the usual course of events, but still such as they have always been, only aggravated. There will be wars and rumors of wars : but when have they not been ? There will be nation rising up against nation, but when has that not been ? There will be overthrow of governments, and dethronement of kings, and destruction of established things, and the multitude triumphing over order and over law : but all that will be considered as the triumph of pop- ular wisdom, as the introduction of man to his coming age of perfectibility and happiness. The spiritual mind will understand it; here and there one faithful man upon the watch-tower, as Simeon looked for Christ ; one faithful woman serving God day and night in His Temple, and 1 2 S. Peter iii. 4. 184 The Coming of the Day of the Lord. waiting for the coming of her Lord, as Anna did for the infant Jesns : but that will be all. And while the world is rolling on according to its usual and customary course, the Son of Man will come and take it as in a snare, because, having the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ shining upon it, it had suffered the god of this world to blind its eyes and stop its ears. And then the Judgment : and then Eternity. And what will make the snare more overpowering and certain in its operation, will be the fact that all its usual pursuits will be intensified and more absorbing as the world approaches its end. Do you not perceive that al- ready ? Are not the improvements, as they are called, in physical science, the rapidity of movement, the constant flashing of exciting news from the ends of the earth, the never-ending pressure of business, the greed after money as the one necessity of life, all making the snare more com- plete, the world more enticing ? Is not man forgetting that there is any God, much more that there is any second coming of the Lord ; — of that Lord, whose first coming he does not believe in ? And as the end approaches, shall not this be more and still more the order of things ? — wealth concentrated; luxury abounding; money grasped at as the summum bonum, the one thing needful ; sensual- ity overflowing ; life loved and cherished for the lusts of the flesh ; the soul forgotten ; Heaven and Hell put aside as idle dreams. And when this is so, — as it is fast get- ting to be so, — shall not the world so absorb all thoughts and all minds, as that the snare will be stretched over the whole earth, in such wise that nothing shall escape ? Woe to the world, — the blinded world ! All captured ; all so fast bound in prison that they " cannot get forth " ! 1 And as it will be at the consummation of all things, so is 1 Psalm lxxxviii. 3. The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 185 it now with us who make the present generation, and who stand in relation to Death as they stand to the second com- ing of the Lord. Things go on so naturally around us ; one day succeeds another so equably and quietly ; men are pursuing so precisely the came courses ; we sleep, we eat, we do business, we marry and give in marriage, day by day, and year by year, as if there was no end : that it becomes a snare to us. We do not think about any interruption to the course of things. It seems so natural to live, that we do not think of death. If there was any sign or token to warn us, we might take heed ; but the world goes on so steadily, and life flows so evenly, and home to-day is so like to what it was yesterday, that we fail into the snare. We cannot anticipate any harm from what looks so pleas- ant and so agreeable. And therefore we float on upon the tide and current, until Death comes upon us unawares, and we find, when too late, that we have been caught in the snare of natural sequences, and are swept away " unawares." And just as in the case of the end of all things, the snare was made all powerful through the concentrated interests and lusts and passions and cares which the progress of the world had accumulated and hurled upon its absorbed in- habitants, — absorbing and blinding them : so is it with us. The snare of natural sequences is made so tempting to us through the lusts of the flesh and the interests of time and sense, that we never pause to examine the real peril of our position, but become enveloped in a cloud of pleasures, of enjoyments, of cares, of duties, which swallow up all our time, and enfold us in their ensnaring and seducing arms. The present blots out the future. The cloud comes be- tween us and God. We hope and trust that it will remove : but it only grows thicker and thicker; until, forgetting our religion, our future, our hopes, our fears, even our God, we are taken in the snare, and swept off " unawares." 1 86 The Coming of the Day of the Lord, There are three temptations against which our Lord warns us most particularly, surfeiting, drunkenness, and the cares of this world. Of the power of sensual indulgences to drug the soul against any preparation for Death, I need hardly speak to you. Surfeiting and drunkenness, or even smaller measures of the same kind of viciousness, are so entirely contrary to the graces of Christianity, that it does not require much argument to show that they must be guarded against by every one who would not have the Day of the Lord to come upon him unawares, and as a snare. S. Paul speaks of those whom he looked upon as the " enemies of the cross of Christ" 1 because they indulged in such things. And when we see how they unfit a man for any duty, whether domestic or social or civil ; how they brutalize the charac- ter, and injure the mind, and harden the feelings : we can easily understand how entirely incompatible they are with any thing like a spiritual state of mind. Indulgence in them is fatal to all Christianity ; therefore take heed, my hearers, lest they overcome your hearts. Be not entangled again with the rudiments and beggarly elements of sensu- ality ! But take heed likewise to that which is a much subtler temptation to most men, and especially most Christians, because it comes wearing the garb of duty. I mean the cares of this life, which are particularly singled out in my text. Alas ! how many, without any vice that one can lay his hand upon, wreck their spiritual hopes upon this rock. And how striking it is that Christ should place these along- side of surfeiting and drunkenness, as most likely of all things to overcharge the heart. What a striking expres- sion, overcharge the heart ! Not the mind, not the body ; but the heart, the seat of the feelings and affections. And i Phil. iii. 18. The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 187 how universal is the temptation ! It comes home to every- body. Who has not something to do with the cares of life ? The father to his business, the mother to her house- hold, and both to the interests of their children ; — the rich to their wealth, having really more care than anybody; the poor to their need ; the old to the accumulation of their lives; the young to their plans and their anticipations. It is duty, some of it ; but duty which must be watched ! No one can live without encountering, in some measure, the duties of life, and therefore the cares of life ; but you can live so as to prevent your hearts from being over- charged: over-charged — mark the word ! — not "charged," for the heart must, to a certain degree, be charged with them ; but over-charged ! Christ rebuked Martha, not be- cause she was engaged in household duties, for that was her legitimate function; but because she was permitting them to absorb her heart, and take that away from rich opportunities of religious instruction. " But one thing is needful." 1 Every thing must be subordinated to that. The cares of this life must be strictly under the control of a well-regulated heart, otherwise they will overpower us. The temptation is the other way, — to apportion our religious duties according to our worldly cares, diminishing those as these increase : that is, to take less heed as our peril increases. This is folly : for when cares increase, which they always do with years, then are prayer, consid- eration, thoughtfulness, and other religious duties most necessary for us ; for they alone can turn the cares of life into religion, and make that burden light and easy, which would, under other circumstances, be intolerable. It is dreadful to think of a Christian being taken by the coming of his Lord, as in a snare ; and yet this will be his condi- tion, unless he take heed of those things which over- 1 S. Luke x. 42. 1 88 The Coming of the Day of the Lord. charge the heart. Our Lord, you see, places the man or the woman who is absorbed in the cares of this life upon the same footing, as regards preparedness for Death or the coming of the Son of Man, with the glutton and the drunkard. And for this plain reason, that while they oper- ate in different ways, they alike take the heart from God and from eternity ; they alike overcharge the heart, and make men forget their accountability, and wrap them in a dream of security : until death enfolds them as in a snare, and they perish ! Take heed lest " that day come upon you unawares " ! And to you, who have not yet attended to the concerns of your souls, let me beseech you to secure their salvation while you are in health. Besides the snare which the vigor of life, and the natural sequence of things, and the cares of this life, enwrap around you : even when you are sick, friends, relations, physicians, all who love you and care for you, will cherish and increase that snare. When you are sick, they will not believe that you are going to be danger- ously so ; when ill, they will not permit you to be disturbed, as they call it, by religious thoughts and exercises, lest you should be made more ill : and when you have reached that stage in which they acknowledge the necessity of your turning your thoughts to your soul, in what condition will you be for preparation, — a preparation which you have neglected ? Is the whole period of an ordinary sickness in our climate sufficient for such a mighty work ? How much less, then, its closing passages, when the body is weak, and the mind clouded, and the spirit frightened and fluttering at its approaching separation ! My hearer, if you would not have Death come upon you " unawares " and " as a snare," prepare for it while you are yet in health ! Christ bade us watch, because, He said, we know not when the Master of the house will come, whether " at even, or The Coming of the Day of the Lord. 189 at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning." 1 The pestilence " walketh in darkness." 2 Take heed, " while it is called To-day," 3 lest Death come npon you unawares, and as a snare ! August 19th 1866. * S. Mark xiii. 35. 2 Psalm xci. 6. 3 Heb. iii. 13. ei$)tzmit) Sermon. Sanctify them through thy truth : thy word is truth. — S. John xvii. 17. Q< 0 far as individuals are concerned, the main object of revealed religion is the formation of character. Chris- tianity was never intended to be inoperative ; but in its very birth was filled with the energy of the Holy Spirit, pro- ducing changes which filled the streets of Jerusalem with awe and astonishment. And that divine energy did not expire with the day of Pentecost, but manifested itself wherever the Cross was lifted up by the Apostles of Revela- tion. Christians were made Christians, in the truest sense of the word, out of every sort of material, — out of fanat- ics, out of fornicators, out of idolators, out of adulterers, out of thieves, out of covetous, out of drunkards, out of revilers, out of extortioners ; for " such," says S. Paul, in his first Epistle to the Corinthians, " were some of you : but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." 1 And this is still the purpose of our holy relig- ion, — the sanctification of the individual character ; the making such fallen creatures as we are, fit for earth and then fit for Heaven. This was a part of that solemn prayer which our blessed Lord made to His Father just be- fore He took His farewell of earth, and was commending to Him His beloved disciples : " Sanctify them, 0 Father, through thy truth : thy word is truth Neither pray J 1 Cor. vi. 11. Thy Word is Truth. 191 I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word." He forgot us not in that hour of His deepest sorrow ; but recorded for us in Heaven His earnest supplication, that His work might produce in us that richest of all its personal effects, holiness of character and of life. We should, as Christians, my beloved people, keep this perpetually in our minds, — that unless Christianity sancti- fies us, it falls short of its intended purpose. To make our religion a matter of mere sentiment, a thing of feeling and not of practice, is to emasculate it, to strip it of its power and its glory. In the discipline of its children, the world aims at the formation of characters which shall be suitable for its purposes ; and so likewise in the Church of Christ, characters are to be created which shall illustrate the mis- sion of our Saviour on earth, and then glorify it in Heaven. It is not rJL that merely crieth, " Lord, Lord," that is the Christian ; but it is he that doeth the will of God. Profes- sion and practice are very widely different things. The one may satisfy man, and may blind the Church while militant upon earth ; but it is only the other which can satisfy God. He cannot be deceived by words and sentiment. He must have the imitation of Christ in the life, — the advancing holiness which tells that the Christian is growing in grace, and in the knowledge of the Lord. To be a Christian, and to stand still in character, are incompatible terms. To be a Christian, and not to be struggling to overcome evil feel- ings, bad habits, wrong temper, idle words, are inharmoni- ous positions. " Onward," should ever be the Christian's motto, for holiness should ever be the Christian's goal. Without holiness, says S. Paul, " no man shall see the Lord." 1 Even in the progress of life, one is expected to grow wiser and more sober and more experienced as age 1 Heb. xii. 14. 192 Thy Word is Truth. creeps on ; and shall the Church expect less of her wor- shippers? S. Paul says, "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child : but when I became a man, I put away childish things." 1 Christians are not to be always children, to be fed on milk : they must seek after strength ; they must search for wis- dom ; they must rejoice in experience ; they must cultivate the graces of Christianity ; they must learn to be able to grapple with hard sayings, to digest strong meat. S. Paul's rebuke to the Hebrews was : " For when for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God ; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat. For every one that useth milk is unskill- ful in the word of righteousness ; for he is a babe. But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil." 2 Sanctification of character is therefore an indispensable requisite of every Christian, and he must search for the means which have been arranged by God for his advance- ment. Our discipline, during this first Advent of our Saviour, is to fit us for His second Advent ; and the Word of God is that means to which the Church especially calls us to-day. The Collect which has been read to you this morning concentrates in itself the full essence of my text : " Blessed Lord, who has caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning ; " and the Epistle reiterates the same truth : " Whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning." And what that learning is, we ascertain by turning to the Epistle to Timothy, where the Apostle says : " All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correc- 1 1 Cor. xiii. 11. 2 Heb. v. 12-14. Thy Word is Truth, 193 tion, for instruction in righteousness : that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works. 5 ' 1 When our blessed Lord, therefore, was supplicating His Father for our sanctification, He was also designating the instrument through which it was to be pursued : " Sanc- tify them through thy truth : thy word is truth." Ifc was truth which was to advance his people in character, and in knowledge, and in spiritual understanding ; and that truth was to be found in the word : primarily in Christ, The Word ; and then secondarily in that which remains to us as the transcript of Christ, the written Word, the Holy Scriptures, the records left us by holy men speaking " as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.' 5 How important then, my beloved people, is it to us, that we should make ourselves intimately familiar with the Holy Scriptures, when we find them presented to us by Christ in this most solemn manner as the great means of our sancti- fication ; and that, because they embody divine truth. Man affirms perpetually that he is in search of truth ; that all his efforts are to discover it ; that his struggles are hardest when they lie between truth and error : and yet, when ab- solute unmixed Truth is presented to him, how hard it is to make him either admire it, or receive it. Christ says, " I am the Truth : " and man turns away from Christ. He says again, " Thy word is truth : " and man neglects and de- spises that Word. What more can be done for man ? " Buy the truth and sell it not," 2 is the injunction of the wise man ; but we will not receive it when it is offered to us without money and without price. Can any thing show us more strikingly the evil heart of unbelief? What we pretend to crave, what we affirm that we desire more than we can express, we reject, when it is thrown at our feet, a gift from God, purchased at the price of the Blood of His 1 2 Tim. iii. 16, 17. 2 p rov> xx iii. 23. 13 1 94 Thy Word is Truth. only-begotten and well-beloved Son ! Pilate sneeringly asked, " What is truth ? " showing us how profoundly skep- tical the world was in his day about truth : and when Christ has answered that question for us, saying, " Thy word is truth," we will not deign to receive it. We press on, looking for that which lies in our pathway, and which has become so precious a comfort to the world. Amazing inconsistency ! incredible except upon the hypothesis of the Bible : " But if our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost : in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not." 1 It is the study of the Holy Scriptures which is to sanc- tify us. They are truth, and truth is God's agent. But in order for truth to produce this transforming effect upon the character, it must be received as truth, really and cor- dially received, so that the heart can repose upon it with confidence as Truth indeed. This therefore demands of you, my hearers, that you should satisfy yourselves as to the truth of the Holy Scriptures. You think that you believe them ; you would be shocked to be counted as un- believers : and yet. if you examine yourselves, many of you would find that there is no such belief in the Scriptures as makes you receive them as the infallible Word of God ; as wiser than all ancients or teachers ; as uttering words which no man should be bold enough to gainsay or contra- dict. Your conduct proves this : for in practical conduct a man's real faith comes out ; and when you come to practice, you are found clinging to the laws and proverbs of worldly policy more closely than to the Word of God. The doc- trines of the Bible are many of them considered unreason- able and fanatical, not to say foolish ; its precepts are deemed not to be suited for life, however much they may be suited to another and more spiritual world ; its graces are 1 2 Cor. iv. 3, 4. Thy Word is Truth, 195 not reckoned to be such as could be safely depended upon in the whirl and tumult of life. This is what many men consider as belief, — a general acquiescence in the Bible, as the Word of God in some form or manner : but no such trust in it as should make them rest upon it as the guide of their conduct, and the rule of their daily life. In such a belief as this there can be no power of sanctification, for that comes through the very struggles which truth forces upon us when we come into conflict with the world. It is a real, earnest heart-belief ; a thing to rest upon in opposi- tion to, and contradiction of, every thing which opposes it ; a reception of all which it affirms, — its hard sayings, it- supernatural requirements, its spiritual life ; an active, liv- ing faith in its promises and its threatenings : in fine, an adoption of it as Truth not to be controverted or over- turned. Such a belief in the Bible as this, gives it power over the whole character ; creates in us a life of faith in harmony with our sentiments ; and leads us onward iu the divine likeness, and changes us from grace to grace into the image of our Saviour. A vague acquiescence produces nothing. It fades before every difficulty, and is turned aside by every lion in the path. It has no foundation stronger than the current opinion of the society in which one moves; or the force of habit, or education. It may produce a moral life, but never sanctification. That must be the product of Truth ; divine, infallible, unchanging, for- ever operating. To say, " I believe," and then never act up to that belief ; to profess faith in Christ and His work, and then never to show any fruit of that faith in one's con- duct ; to speak of the Word of God as truth, and then to live as if you had come to the conclusion that it was all a lie ; is not Christianity : for it can never lead on to the end of Christianity, which is sanctification. Ere the prayer of our Lord can be fulfilled in us, there- 196 Thy Word is Truth. fore, my beloved hearers, we must be true believers in the Word of God: otherwise we cannot be sanctified by it. Therefore is it that in the Collect for the Day our prayer is not merely that we may read, but that we may " mark, learn and inwardly digest " the Scriptures ; may assimi- late them to ourselves ; may make them a part of our daily growth. In no other way can they produce in us the re- sult which they are intended to produce. A mere cursory reading of the Scriptures may ease our consciences, as the performance of a daily duty ; may awaken interest, or admiration of character, or style, or pathos : but will pro- duce no effect in changing the character to a higher state holiness. No one can understand the inner, life-giving meaning of the Holy Scriptures, unless it be interpreted to him ; and no one can interpret it so well as the Holy Spirit who inspired it ; and that Holy Spirit can be brought down to us only by prayer. To receive sanctification through the Word of Truth, therefore, we must accompany it by prayer, — earnest, faithful prayer for an enlightened understanding and an obedient heart ; for willingness to know the truth, and for still greater willingness to prac- tice it ; for faith in it when we have learned to know it, and for reliance upon it when we may be put to the test through some deeper waters or more fiery trials. Some holy men have never studied the Scriptures save on their knees ; and such students have ever found the truth to be sanctifying them, and making them more meet for com- munion with their God. If we would be sanctified through the truth, we must study it in this way. By no other pro- cess can we reach the higher steps of the divine life. If we would gain rich views of our heavenly home, we must climb the heights which rise perpetually as we advance in the Christian pilgrimage. There is no reward for indo- lence, for lukewarmness, for indifference, for carelessness. Thy Word is Truth, 197 These traits of character will always make us slow trav- ellers in the divine life ; and will mar our Christian happi- ness here, as well as diminish our reward in the Kingdom of Heaven. God's Word, absolute Truth ! What a precious consola- tion for us in a world like this, to know that there is such a thing as Truth ! As we advance in life, we grow more faithless in every thing, especially in our conclusions about things intellectual and moral. In early life we form opin- ions, which we think that nothing can ever shake; but time, and experience, and a maturer consideration, make all our fabrics to totter, and involve in one general distrust every thing upon which we had determined to rest. What can compensate us for such a condition of things P What can once again revive faith and confidence within us? Wliat can renew our youth, and roll us back to the precious hours of believing innocence ? Nothing on earth. There is naught that can give us back to ourselves, but the recep- tion of God's Word as divine Truth. How the heart yearns for something to trust in, to act upon, to cling to as a sure anchor within the veil ! How the seared and callous spirit longs to soar once more upon the wings of Faith and Hope, and find peace in believing! Well, the yearning of the soul and the longing of the spirit can both be gratified in the Word of God; for, says our blessed Saviour, "Thy word is truth." Oh precious declaration ! Oh divine an- nouncement ! Well may the angels call it the Gospel, the " glad tidings," and desire to look into it, and understand it ! In this Word, 0 worn and jaded and deceived man, may you find a resting-place ; nay more, a place in which you may cast aside the garments soiled by a deceitful world, and array yourself in the robe of truth and of holiness. Your course is not finished because the world has deceived you, because your own understanding has played you false. Thy Word is Truth, Your life is not ended because one phase of it has been a delusive play of error and falsehood. There is something yet untried ; a new course to be entered upon, in which you will find no deception and no falsehood ; a fresh life to be begun, wherein truth will cause your path to shine brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. Come to the Word of God ; study it under the guidance of the Church and the Spirit ; embrace it as divine Truth ; let it sink into your heart as life-giving and life-restoring: and you will find that every thing within you will be changed under its divine influence ; and that every thing outside of you will catch the light which now illuminates you ; and will be irradiated, no matter how dark and sombre your prospects may have seemed, with the brightness which Truth reflects upon them. You will then, for the first time, no matter how long you may have lived the life of the world, realize the transforming power of Truth, not only within, but with- out the soul. Is this sanctifying process going on within you, and upon you, my beloved hearers ? Are you growing in grace as you grow in years ? Is Christianity working upon you such changes as it is intended to work ? Or are you rather at ease in Zion, satisfied with your attainments and settled upon your lees ? Beware of this condition ! If you are not advancing in holiness, the probability — nay, almost the certainty — is that you are moving backwards. Religion in the heart needs constant cherishing. It is a plant in an unkindly soil. Every thing is against it. It is like rowing against the wind and the tide : constant exertion may urge you forward ; but the cessation of exertion certainly places you at the mercy of the contending elements, and you drift backwards. Christ would never have called upon His Father in that most solemn hour of prayer to sanctify us with His Truth, if He had not known, as a man tempted in Thy Word is Truth. 199 all things as we ourselves are, what a struggle it requires in us to advance in holiness ! Let us remember this, fellow- Christians, that our aim should be sanetification, improve- ment in Christian character, an onward movement towards a higher perfection of holiness. Such injunctions as these, " Be ye holy ; for I am holy," 1 u Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect," 2 occur in the Scriptures ; and suggest to us the point of attain- ment after which we are expected to strive. How earn- estly the Apostles looked towards perfection ! "I count not myself to have apprehended," said the ambitious S. Paul, — ambitious after the image of Christ his Lord : " but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press forward the mark." 3 " Toward the mark," was ever his motto ! Although humble enough to say, " By the grace of God I am what I am," 4 he was yet enthusiastic enough to look forward at the " prize of the high calling." 5 Let us endeavor to imbibe this spirit, to drink in of his ar- dent zeal. Lukewarmness is peculiarly hateful to Christ, the Head of the Church. He spues it out of His mouth ! The Word of God is one of the great means whereby we may get rightminded views upon this topic, for it " is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, pierc- ing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." 6 What an instrument ! Sent, too, not for destruction, but for our blessing and comfort ; sent to sanctify us ; sent to bless us ; sent to comfort us ; sent to give us the blessed hope of everlasting life ; sent to prepare us in heart and soul for the fruition of those joys 1 1 S. Pet. i. 16. 2 g. v 48> 3 p hil> m i 3j 14i 4 1 Cor. xv. 10. 5 Phil. iii. 14. 6 Heb. iv. 12. 200 Thy Word is Truth. of which it is written : " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." 1865. 1 1 Cor. ii. 9. Mmtzmfy Sermon In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judcea, and saying, Repent ye : for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. For this is he that was spoken of by the prophet Esaias, say- ing, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. — S. Matthew iii. 1-3. TT has struck me very forcibly, in studying the Bible and comparing its prophecy with its narrative, that unless the essential Divinity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ was received as its orthodox teaching, a very grave charge might be brought against the whole Revelation, — a no less charge than that of directly plunging the sincere and the devout into the damning sin of creature- worship. I say of directly plunging ; for a Revelation should be liable to this accusation, which, not intending that those who embraced it should receive its proffered Saviour as God, should yet invest him with all the glory with which it sur- rounds and describes the Godhead. What could the Rev- elation, which we accept as from God, do more to mislead us upon this point (if it be not the truth), than it has done ? What more than give Jesus Christ all the titles of God ? What more than clothe Him with all the attributes of God ? What more than separate Him, as it has done, from all human creatures and all angelic spirits, and place Him alongside of Jehovah as His fellow and His everlast- ing counsellor? What more than denounce all worship, save that of God, as idolatry, and not only permit but charge all things in Heaven and earth to worship Jesus ? 202 John the Baptist, All this is plainer even than so many direct affirmations of the fact; for it is interweaving the Name of Jesus so closely with that of Jehovah, that one cannot separate them, and must be guilty either of degrading Christ far below any thing which a fair interpretation of the Script- ures will permit, or else of confounding God and Christ continually, in thought, word and worship, to the destruc- tion of his soul. It is impossible to do what the Bible commands us, impossible to worship as the Bible enjoins us to worship, impossible to administer and receive sacraments as the Bible arranges that they shall be administered and received, without being guilty of creature-worship, — if Jesus Christ be not God; without bringing upon us the curse of serving other gods, — if our Redeemer, the Mes- siah of the Jews, the Christ of the Gospel, be not a Per- son of that Triune Godhead, which is the great mystery of earth and Heaven. My text has led me naturally into this train of thought ; for, in considering the prophetic and evangelic offices of John the Baptist (to which the Church especially directs our attention to-day), and using them as incitements to urge upon you repentance and faith as the proper prepara- tions for the coming of Christ, it is necessary to observe how the Bible first exalts John the Baptist, and then how it exhibits him as humbling himself before Jesus Christ as his Lord and his God. As between the Old Testament and the New, with the exception of the Persons of the Godhead, John the Bap- tist is the only individual noted in prophecy. All the chosen servants of Christ under the Gospel were called after they had reached mature life ; but nothing had been spoken of them before in Holy Writ. Not so with John the Baptist. Upon his birth and office and habits had holy men of old spoken as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. John the Baptist, 203 Isaiah had predicted him in those rich verses, " The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall he exalted, and every moun- tain and hill shall he made low : and the crooked shall he made straight, and the rough places plain : and the glory of the Lord shall he revealed, and all flesh shall see it together : for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." 1 Malachi closes the volume of Old Testament inspiration with a prediction and description of him : " Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me : and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in : behold, he shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts." 2 And again: "Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord : and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse." 3 And this at once places him above all the most exalted characters of the Scriptures, even supposing that there was nothing more to distinguish him from his brethren. But his birth and the inspired blessing of his father Zacharias betoken that a most wonderful personage was born into the world. His conception was supernatural, seeing that his parents were both past age ; and that con- ception was announced, as a special answer of God to prayer, by the mouth of an angel : " Fear not, Zacharias : for thy prayer is heard ; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John. And thou shalt have joy and gladness ; and many shall rejoice at his birth. For he shall be great in the sight of the Lord, and 1 Isaiah xl. 3-5. 2 Mai. iii. 1. 3 Ibid. iv. 5, 6. 204 John the Baptist. shall drink neither wine nor strong drink ; and he shall he filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother's womh. And many of the children of Israel shall he turn to the Lord their God. And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, to tujn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just ; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord." 1 And when the miraculous birth has taken place, and the Spirit has filled Zacharias, he thus predicts the glorious career of his son : " And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest : for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways ; to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God." 2 Of no human being were ever more glorious things than these spoken ; upon no creature could be heaped more exalted offices. And when Jesus had occa- sion afterwards to speak of him, He says emphatically: " Verily I say unto you, Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Bap- tist. " 3 Abraham, though styled " the friend of God," was not greater. Moses, though permitted to speak face to face with God, was not greater. David, though the man after God's own heart, was not greater. And yet see in what relation the Bible places this mighty prophet, to Jesus Christ. Even when honoring him most, the Bible but gives him the place of a messenger or herald before some mightier Being that was to follow ; and that Being is called " The Lord our God ; " and the day of His coming, that " great and dreadful day of the Lord." And when the children were yet unborn, this babe leaped in his mother's womb at the salutation of the Mother of Jesus, — leaped for joy; and his mother was filled with the Holy Ghost, and she i S. Luke i. 13-17. 2 Rid. 76-78. 8 S. Matt. xi. 11. John the Baptist, 205 spake out and said : " Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me ? " 1 And in the full tide of his popularity, when multitudes had flocked to his baptism ; when the Pharisees and Sadducees, the bigots and skeptics of that day, had combined to do homage to him; when men were musing in their minds whether he were the Christ or no : he cumulates epithets to humble himself before Jesus. He is One mightier than him; One that is preferred before him. His baptism is of water : the baptism of Jesus Christ shall be with the Holy Ghost and with fire. He goes before merely to prepare the way: in the hand of Jesus is the fan, and He will throughly purge His floor. Mighty as he is, — foretold, announced by an angel in the Temple, filled with the Holy Ghost from his mother's womb, — he is not worthy to un- loose the latchet of the shoes of Jesus ; nay, not worthy to bear them behind Him as He walks. How wonderful that all this humiliation should have no effect upon men to make them perceive the vast distance which the Bible has placed between the greatest of its prophets and Jesus Christ the Lord ! If we examine the passages of the prophets which pre- dict the coming of John, we shall find that in them which bears strongly upon the same point, — the Majesty of the Person whom John was to precede and herald. In that of Isaiah, the office of the Baptist is designated as that of one raised up to prepare the way of the Lord ; for what purpose? That "the glory of the Lord" may "be re- vealed, and all flesh " may " see it together." What is this glory of the Lord ? To us this term " Glory of the Lord " may mean any thing; but to the Jews, to whom Isaiah was writing, it was t S. Luke i. 42, 43. 206 John the Baptist. not so. In connection with His place of worship, it could have but one meaning, — the meaning that had been af- fixed to it under the Tabernacle and the first Temple. When Moses had finished all the work of the Tabernacle, and had set it up before the Lord, " Then," says the inspired writer, " a cloud covered the tent of the congre- gation, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle." 1 When all things were perfected in Solomon's Temple, and all things had been arranged according to the pattern of the Lord, and the priests were come out of the Holy place, then the cloud filled the House of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud : " for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of the Lord." 2 There can be no doubt, in either of these places, who it was that filled those houses with His glory. In Exodus, the context plainly indicates that it was the same Being who had appeared to Moses upon the top of Sinai ; who had overthrown Pharaoh and his hosts in the Red Sea ; who had covenanted with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob ; who had set His bow in the cloud for the comfort of Noah ; who had attempered the curse upon the earth in the garden of Eden with the promise of the Seed of the woman. In Kings, the Lord whose glory filled the House of the Lord was thus addressed by Solomon, just after the cloud had filled the Temple, in language which could never have been used, un- der the Theocracy, save to Jehovah : "And Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of all the con- gregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands towards heaven : and he said, Lord God of Israel, there is no God like thee, in heaven above, or on earth beneath, who keep- est covenant and mercy with thy servants that walk before thee with all their heart But will God indeed dwell 1 Exod. xl. 34. 2 1 Kings viii. 10, 11. John the Baptist. 207 on the earth? behold, the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain thee ; how much less this house that I have builded ? " 1 The term must be interpreted under the pro- phetic, as it was under the legal dispensation ; and can refer, therefore, to none other in this passage, " that the glory of the Lord " shall be revealed, than to that revealed God who is everywhere in the Bible represented as distinct in Person from the concealed God, and yet identified with Him in titles, in power, in attributes. Such is the personage before whom John the Baptist was to go as a herald ; before whom he was to prepare the way, and make straight the paths. Xo wonder that before such a Being he should humble himself even to the dust. In what manner, is our next inquiry, was John to pre- pare the way of the Lord '? He himself explains it, and thas casts the clearest light upon the passages of the Prophets : " Repent ye : for the kingdom of heaven is at hand," was the burden of his preaching. " Bring forth therefore fruits meet for repentance ; 93 for " now also the ax is laid unto the root of the trees." 2 Repentance, for their sins personal and national, was what was necessary on the part of the Jews, to precede faith in their coming Mes- siah, — in the establishment of that Church of the Gospel which is called, in the New Testament, " The Kingdom of Heaven." The same call, my beloved hearers, is that which the ministers and stewards of the Gospel make upon you now, in reference to the approaching Advent of our Lord Jesus Christ in human flesh. Every year, as it rolls its course, does the Church bring before us, in her seasons, the great events which together worked out our redemption ; and just now does she call upon us to contemplate the Xativity of our Lord as the first manifestation of that " grace which 1 1 Kings yiii. 22, 23, 27. 2 S. Matt. iii. 8, 10. 208 John the Baptist. bringeth salvation." In view of its near approach do I say unto you, as John said unto the Jews, " Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Repentance prepares us for the coming of our Lord, be- cause it makes us dissatisfied with our own righteousness, and drives us to look out of ourselves for some justification before God. And this is evidently the meaning of John the Baptist, when he tells those who came out to his Baptism : " Think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father." Think no longer to place your justification in your national election, u for now also the ax is laid unto the root of the trees," and every individual " which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire." And this is the great object and end of preaching, — to dis- satisfy you with your own righteousness ; to make you see it as God sees it ; to tear you from every other refuge as a mere refuge of lies, that you may take hold of Christ as The Lord your Righteousness. So long as man can find any thing to rest upon out of Christ, so long will he remain out of Christ : for such is his nature since the Fall, that he will believe any absurdity which demands not faith, rather than the power of God and the wisdom of God when it has to be received through faith. Repentance is the great theme of the Apostolic preaching. " Repent " begins al- most all their sermons. " Repent " precedes every direc- tion which they give to the inquiring crowds. " Repent " opens the door to Baptism, to Church membership, to a participation in the Supper of the Lord. " Repent ye, therefore," my hearers ; and for this reason especially, because " the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Once again is Jesus Christ brought before you by the Church, and the mighty claims which He has upon your love and your devo- tion are presented to you. He is about to be manifested to you in that low estate which He put on for your sakes, John the Baptist. 209 when, " being in the form of God/' and thinking " it not robbery to be equal with God : " He yet " made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a serv ant, and was made in the likeness of men." 1 He is about to act out before you that career of love and mercy which had its consummation in His becoming " obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross." 2 He comes " to finish the transgression, and to make an end of sins, and to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness." 3 All this, my beloved hearers, would not have been undertaken for you, could you have worked out for yourselves any righteousness that would suffice you in the day of God's wrath ; — could you have found any refuge to shield you, when "judgment" should be laid "to the line, and righteousness to the plummet." 4 " Repent ye : " pray the Holy Spirit, whose office it is, to convince you of sin, and to give you that view of your own righteousness, which shall make you cry in anguish of spirit, " What shall I do to be saved ? " It is an awful sight to see a human creature resting in a righteousness which the Bible calls " filthy rags ; " which the holiest men of old abjured as utterly insufficient for their necessities : when there is a perfect Righteousness, wrought out for him by Christ, which can be his when he may be made to see his own sin- fulness and the glorious sufficiency of Christ. 0 fellow- Christians, in view of this coming of the Kingdom of Heaven, let us unitedly beseech the God of love to pour down upon His Church the spirit of grace and of supplica- tion, that the unbelieving may look upon Him whom they have pierced, and may mourn for Him as one mourneth for his only son, and may be in bitterness for Him as one that is in bitterness for his first born. " Repent ye," all that profess not the Name of the Lord, for the prophet calls it 1 Phil. ii. 6, 7. 2 Ibid. 8. 3 Dan. ix. 24. 4 Isaiah xxxviii. 17. 14 210 John the Baptist. " that great and dreadful day of the Lord ; 99 — great and dreadful indeed, for it aggravates sin with the rejection of mercy, and brings down upon the impenitent the additional condemnation of having trampled under foot the Blood of the son of God, and done despite to the Spirit of His grace. " Repent ye : for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." What a call to you, members of the Church of Christ 9 Hear the words of Malachi : " Behold, I will send my mes- senger, and he shall prepare the way before me : and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in : behold, he shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts. But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth ? for he is like a refiner's fire, and like fuller's sope : and he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver : and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness." Are you ready, my hearers, for this Lord ? Are you prepared for the refiner's fire ? This Lord will come near to you to judgment, and will be a swift witness against all iniquity. How can you stand when He appeareth ? Search and examine yourselves, ere it be too late, and see that you are in the faith. Prove your own selves ! If you will not, God must prove you : and even though you stand in the day of His appearing, be- lieve me that the trial of your faith, if you put Him upon it in this world, will be like passing through the fire; and the dross which shall be burnt away will be like the tearing asunder of soul and body. When Christ sits as a refiner and purifier, He will not leave His work until He shall see His own image reflected in you. Refine yourselves at once, therefore, lest He come upon you, and judgment be laid to the line. Humble yourselves at once before His awful ap- pearing, and bring forth fruits meet for repentance. John the Baptist, 2 1 1 My beloved hearers, the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Oh, in how many senses ! It is at hand, in that the Gospel circle is once again begun to be run in the Church. It is at hand, in that the means of grace are all around you, freely offered, freely dispensed. It is at hand, in that the Second Coming of our Lord is nearer than when ye be- lieved. It is at hand, in that Death, which terminates our probation, is overhanging us at every moment. Under each and every one of these aspects, the cry is the same : " Kepent ye." Despise not the voice of warning, lest the Lord come upon you suddenly, like a thief in the night, and ye find no place for repentance, though ye seek it care- fully, and with tears. 1865. 0 As sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing. — 2 Cor. vi. 10. T first glance, this sentence appears to involve a con- v tradiction ; but the longer we think of it, the more will it strike us as describing very faithfully man's condi- tion while on his march to the Holy Land of Promise and of Peace. Sorrow for the present, but joy coming in the morning ; weariness as we tread the thorny road, but rest awaiting us at its close ; tears spriukling our path, but our God ready, when our work is done, to wipe away tears from off all faces ; darkness embarrassing us, hindering us, put- ting us out of the way, but light, light from heaven, shin- ing more and more brightly as we fix our eyes upon the Cross. It is the true picture of life as sin has made it, — sin limited and restrained by the power of Man's divine Champion. And we are assembled to-day to commemorate the birth of Him, who has hindered life from being all sor- row, all weariness, all tears, all darkness ! It is the true festival of the heart and of the affections, for it awakens every thing to love and joy, and then makes that love and joy undying. It rises above all affliction ; and for the time, so long as we can keep sense and memory subject to faith, it places earth with its temporary trials and sorrows at their true value. Every thing rejoices at its coming : from the angels in Heaven who sing the song of " Glory to God in the highest," to the trees of the field which come in hither to clap their hands before the Lord. Every thing rejoices, and ought to rejoice, for it celebrates the reunion of man Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. 213 and God, of earth and Heaven, of the soul with that divine Fountain whence it sprang when Jehovah breathed into it the breath of life. And what a rich blessing it is, my beloved people, that there should be in a world like this something to break the sad monotony of life ; something to relieve the mind from the continued contemplation of trouble, of sorrow, of sick- ness, of death ; to separate us from the necessary work of life ; to remove us from the pressure of carking care, from the degrading influence of worldly strife, from the deterio- rating effects of selfishness and avarice. What a rich bless- ing to find a centre of love, around which should be gath- ered, if only for a little while, the kindliest sympathies of human nature, — a fountain of real joy sending its refresh- ing waters to cheer the weary path of the mourner, and trickling through all the by-ways of the world, seeking out the children of want and poverty, and creating green spots even in a desert. It is hard to estimate the value of such a season in its humanizing and softening tendencies. How many elements have to be combined, ere we can ap- preciate the festival we are keeping, even under this aspect. We should be obliged to unlock all the secret doors of sor- row and of shame, all the private recesses of affection and delight, and combine them, ere we could understand how the joys of this season pervade the whole frame-work of society. The chamber of the sick is lightened by its com- ing. The humble abode of poverty is cheered as this sun rises upon it. The thousand firesides of the land are full of words of affection and the merry laugh of childhood. The whole Christian world rises up and calls Him blessed, who has come upon this mission of love, and has humbled Himself to lowliness, and to sorrow, and to suffering, that the children of sin and death may have rejoicing mingled with their sorrowing. 214 Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. The coming of this Son of God in human form has been the burden of hope from the beginning of the world. From that moment when the promise fell upon the ear of guilt in the garden of Eden, " The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head," until the morning when the herald angels sang the song of His Birth, has every thing been overruled for His Advent. Upon every thing else in the world were change and decay permitted to place their hand of destruction, save upon this promise. This ever waxed stronger and brighter, even amid wreck and ruin ; and was the rainbow that encircled the darkness. Whatever else was overturned, this stood immovable, the corner-stone laid in Sion. When a single family enshrined the promise, that family was watched and guarded by Heaven: for in its bosom was the Word of God and the Hope of the World. When that Family swelled into a na- tion, God Himself became its King, and guarded it as the apple of an eye, leading it like a flock and protecting it under the shadow of His wing ! When that nation sor- rowed in captivity by the waters of Babylon, God heard the cry of the people of whom, according to the flesh, His Son should come : and led them back, with songs and rejoicing, to their own land of promise. All the mightiest monarch- ies of the world — Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Macedonia, Rome — raged in their madness around the future birth- place of this promised Seed : but each, in its turn, was made to feel that a mightier power than itself had placed a curb upon its fury, and had uttered the decree, " Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further." 1 It was not until this promise was fulfilled at Bethlehem, — until the Seed of the woman was incarnate, — that the reins were thrown upon the neck of these executioners of the Lord, and they were permitted to make the Holy Land a desolation, to raze the Temple to 1 Job xxxviii. 11. Sorrowful^ yet alway Rejoicing. 215 its foundation, and scatter God's people over the face of the earth. How firmly does this adherence to His promise prove for us the truth of God ! How immovably does it establish the future upon the basis of the past ! When we follow this promise, struggling to its fulfillment through four thousand years of clouds and darkness, can we doubt but that all the promises of God are " Yea and Amen " in Christ Jesus ? The life of Jesus was an example of the life which is shadowed forth in my text. He was a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, yet had He within Himself a well- spring of joy, which carried Him unmurmuring through all He had to bear with for us. He was sorrowing, yet always rejoicing : sorrowing for man, sorrowing under the burden of sin which He was bearing, sorrowing in view of the suf- ferings He was called to pass through ; yet rejoicing for the joy that was set before Him, and for the glory which was evermore to encircle His Xaine. He was poor, and had not where to lay His head : yet He rejoiced ! He was tempted in the lonely wilderness, and had to bear the pol- luting approach of Satan : yet He rejoiced ! He was scorned and despised : yet He rejoiced ! He was persecuted and for- saken : yet He rejoiced ! He was made obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross : yet He rejoiced ! He exhib- ited to us the double life which it is intended for us to lead on earth ; — the outer life by which we touch the world and the things of the world, in which we are called upon to bear and suffer and mourn, through which we are to work out in the strength of Christ our salvation : and the inner life, by which we touch God and heavenly things, in which we are to reap the fruits of the Spirit, joy, peace, love ; and through which we are to receive the adoption of sous of God and the glorious inheritance of His eternal kingdom. This double life, if we are Christians, we must all lead. There i& 216 Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. no escaping it. Our joy, whatever it is, must go along with sorrow : our sorrow, whatever it is, must be borne in a spirit of rejoicing. We cannot separate them ; and therefore does the Apostle enjoin upon us, to act heartily up to what is allotted to us. Any other life will prove to be a forced life, and will turn out to be an abortion — a life of misery to ourselves, of hypocrisy to the world. To be truly Christian ; to move in the spirit of Christ, and with the mind of Christ, we must follow His footsteps whether in sorrow or in joy. We must live in the world as not of the world ; bearing whatever is laid upon us, as though it was only by the way, and had but little to do — save in the way of discipline — with the real purpose and end of our exist- ence. When we take the true view of life, — and this festival really exhibits it to us, — I do not see why we should not be always rejoicing even though for the present we go on sor- rowing. In an elaborate and complicated piece of machin- ery, there is a principle which pervades the whole structure, and regulates its action and its use. In a musical composi- tion, there is a key-note upon which depends all the har- mony, and without attention to which all is discord and confusion. Well, Life has likewise its principle, which regulates it ; its key-note which gives it its harmony : and unless we attend to these, it will be like jangling bells, ringing noisily upon the ear, yet breathing no music either for use or delight. The divine object of life — our eternal future — must be kept in view ; or else we shall not be able to understand fully the meaning of the Apostle when he says, "As sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing:" and what is worse, we should not comprehend the life of Christ, into which we are to grow, which was the foreshadowing of this injunction. It was not this life of sin and sorrow that our Lord rejoiced in : it was the joy that was set before Him. Sorrowful) yet alway Rejoicing, 217 And so with us. The true key-note of our life is that glory which is laid up for us in Christ, and through Christ ; — that crown which is to encircle our brow, when we shall have triumphed over our spiritual enemies. This should rule over every thing : over our sorrows, over our troubles, over our temptations, over sickness and death, over corruption and the grave ! — should be a bow of promise ever span- ning the clouds and the storm, a thing of beauty and of joy, even though it be made up of light and tears. Does not any prospect of earthly bliss — future but sure — fill the heart with joy, and sustain it through toil and weari- ness and suffering P Are we not all borne up in life by some hope that is before us, — some secret, hoarded bliss, which goes along with us, and clothes with sunshine the rugged path which we are appointed to tread ? Every indi- vidual has this sustaining though secret joy; and none can have it so surely and so brightly as the Christian. He has a right to rejoice at all times, to keep a perpetual fes- tival in his heart, to make a Christmas of his whole life : for Christ, to him, has not only been born in Bethlehem, but born within him ; has not only lived and died for him, but is making his body a living temple, and dwelling there by His Holy Spirit — the Spirit of peace and joy ! If he is faithful to himself he can never be without joy : for deep down in his heart is there a fountain always gushing, of which nothing can deprive him but sinfulness and faith- lessness. " Holding faith and a good conscience," he can move forward in a spirit of rejoicing, however troubled he may be in the flesh. Xo stranger can intermeddle with his joy : for it is hidden from all but God, who gives it the full warrant of His inspired Word. And yet the sorrow of the world does press upon even the most faithful of us, and does often turn us aside from the rejoicing which really belongs to us. Nature leans one 2i 8 Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. way : Inspiration directs us another way. Flesh and Blood would dwell in the low valleys of despondency and depres- sion : Faith summons us to the mountain -tops which look out upon the unclouded skies, and bids us rejoice in spirit and in hope. How shall heavy hearts and anxious spirits be made to lighten themselves of their burdens, and to obey the injunction of the inspired Apostle ? In whom shall sorrow and joy be harmonized ? My answer is, " In Christ Jesus our Lord." And the error which pervades the reasoning of the world, and which creeps in upon the Church, arises from a want of proper discrimination between the joy of the world and the holy joy of Christian belief. There is a rude vulgar mirth which the world dignifies with the name of " rejoicing ; " and there is a Christian grace which the Apostle entitles " re- joicing in the Lord." These two species of joy differ from each other in every particular, — in their origin, in their occasions, in their nature, in their ends. The one is born of the flesh, and is antagonistic of the other which comes directly from the Spirit of God. The one arises out of those gratifications of sense or of interest which absorb so much our feelings and our affections ; the other springs out of considerations connected with Christ's future domin- ion. The one is dependent upon prosperity for its exist- ence ; the other brightens and flashes just when clouds and darkness lower upon us, and is like the lightning, the more vivid because of the darkness out of which it seems to dart. The one has its consummation in the very mo- ment of its production ; the other awaits in patience the time when it shall flourish in eternal peace. To be " sor- rowful, yet alway rejoicing " the Apostle did not believe to be possible for the world, and in the spirit of the world : but to be " sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing " in the Spirit of Christ, was his daily practice, and his exceeding great Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing, 219 reward. And what he had learned from his own wide ex- perience, he exhorts us to learn who may be called to wade, like himself, through a sea of trouble and of woe. " For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." 1 And how much we have to rejoice in, my beloved hear- ers, even though we be sorrowful ! We can rejoice, because we know that the world has not been left to itself to stag- ger on in its sinfulness and misrule, but has been given to Christ for His possession. " The Lord God omnipotent reigneth," 2 — reigneth over all the kingdoms of the uni- verse ; and He has promised to set His Son upon His holy hill of Zion. The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof ; and He ordereth all things according to the pur- poses of His will. For this we can rejoice, no matter how troubled the world may be. " I will overturn, overturn, overturn it : and it shall be no more, until He come whose right it is, and I will give it him," 3 is the decree of. God : and the Christian, however sorrowing, may rejoice, that every thing is working together to bring in the kingdom of righteousness, and to place Christ, as King of kings and Lord of lords, over every thing in Heaven and in earth. The wrath of man is altogether under the control of Him whose incarnation we are celebrating, and it cannot hurt one hair of our heads without His permission. And in His hands do we rejoice to leave all things, and to trust in Him for the future, as we have for the past. In the midst of the sorrow of the world, we can be ever rejoicing : because we know that the Lord maketh every thing work together for good to them that love Him. Sorrow, sickness, suffer- ing, death, striking us in the current and rush of life, are made to work, together with its events, for good. The ex- pression is a very striking one, and conveys the idea of 1 Heb. xii. 6. 2 Rev. xix. 6. 8 Ezek. xxi. 27. 220 Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. many threads interlacing and forming the web of a text- ure ; of many rays converging and constituting a star of promise and of hope. The single thread we often cannot see the purpose of ; the single ray gives no positive light amid the darkness : and in the same way any particular act of God's providence may lack its meaning even to the eye of Faith. But when these single threads are woven together by a skillful hand, they form a pattern of order and of beauty : and when these single rays are converged by the unerring law of Nature, they become a centre of light and of glory. So these movements of God's providence, which, as single acts, seem mysterious and severe, change into mercy and blessing when His all-wise hand shall have ar- ranged them in their proper places, and united them with others which are their complement and harmony. " Work together for good ; " — not work singly for good, but to- gether : teaching us never to judge hastily or rashly, never to murmur inconsiderately, but to wait patiently ; and, while waiting, to rejoice that, in the darkness and misery by which we are encompassed in this world, our Lord is con- trolling all things, and is holding in His hands the innu- merable threads of our complicate Being, and is working them up together for good to those who are the called according to His purpose. And surely, no matter how fall of care and grief the present may be, how inexplicable the dealings of God with us : we may rejoice through it all, and lift our hearts to Heaven, feeling that nothing can separate us from a love which could give its only-begotten Son for our redemption. I trust that you can now feel, my beloved people, that "although sorrowing, you may be always rejoicing," be- cause, while the sorrow will pass away, the joy remains, not only undying, but ever increasing in brightness and cer- tainty ! No sorrow, however acute, however deep, can ex- Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. 2 2 1 tend beyond this life. Death cuts it off; it has no longer any influence over us. But our rejoicing passes with us, through the grave, because Christ, who is our cause of re- joicing, receives us there to the brightness of His Glory. Our rejoicing here is by faith, that the day of this humilia- tion will be soon ended, and that He will come again in His glorious Majesty to raise us to the life immortal, and glorify us with that glory which He had with the Father ere the world was ! Who can think of sorrow when such a vision rises in the future ? Who can count the griefs of this world to be of any moment, when he remembers that Christ has come, and has sanctified all this sorrow, and made it holy ? When the angel-song reaches our ears, " Glory to the new-born King ! " what other strain can overpower it ? It swells from earth to Heaven, and our hearts rise with it, and mingle in the shout which rings through the arches of the skies at the wonderful declara- tion. Him whom these angels had known in the Bosom of His Father, whose brightness they could not look upon, before whose presence they were compelled to hide their faces with their wings : they now see an infant in His Mother's bosom ! Sublime mystery ! Incomprehensible work ! Angels desiring to look into it ; — yet all done for man. The universe receiving it with songs of triumph ; — yet all done for man ! done for him, — a fallen, sinful, cor- rupt creature ; — for him, a child of shame and of the curse ; — for him, born to trouble as the sparks fly up- ward ; — done for him, that he may be rescued from all the evils of sin, and all the penalties of the curse ; — done for him, that he may be pardoned, and justified, and sancti- fied ; — done for him, that he may be adopted into the family of God ; — done for him, that he may be exalted to Heaven, and made a king and a priest unto God. All this done for him : and yet he going along to this glory, and 222 Sorrowful, yet alway Rejoicing. permitting 1 himself to be sorrowful and despondent, with his knees feeble, and his hands hanging down, — with his eyes fixed upon the earth, as if that were his home and his treasure ! For shame, Christian ! You should be " alway rejoic- ing," especially to-day ! For shame, Christian ! Your eyes should be turned with joy to Bethlehem, even though they be filled with tears. For shame, Christian ! Lay aside all private griefs, all public sorrow, and sing this morning with the holy angels, " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men." And you should sing all through your life, and engrave upon your heart as your motto : " Sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing." 1865. Z