A farewell sermon preached in Westminster Abbey at the School service, July 24, 1875

^

J/.

I

A

1

^

S^

/

>i'

\A

//

A

FAREWELL SERMON

PREACIIKI) IN

WESTMINSTER ABBEY,

AT THE

SCHOOL SERVICE. JULY 24, 1S75.

BY THE

REV. JAMES MARSHALL, M.A.

ASSISTANT MASTER, WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.

PRINTED BY REQUEST.

©rfurtr jtntt ^011^011 :
JAMES PARKER AND CO.

1875.

-^ y ^ ^^"^^jci _ \l\^\^ v^' u /

IW"

/ c::

FAREWELL SERMON

PREACHED IN

WESTMINSTER ABBEY,

AT THE

SCHOOL SERVICE, JULY 24, 1875,

BY THE

REV. JAMES MARSHALL, M.A.

ASSISTANT MASTER, WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.

PRINTED BY REQUEST.

JAMES PARKER AND CO.

1875.

" Gratias tibi agimus, Domine Deus, pro Fundatrice nostra
EHzabetha Regina, ceterisque Benefactoribus nostris, quorum
ope et litterarum studiis recte in Tuam Gloriam utentes, una
cum fidelibus defunctis omnibus ad coelestem vitam resurgamus
per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum."

21 jfaitijatll Stnnau, vtt.

ST. LUKE xii. 48.

" Unto ivhomsocvcr much is given, of him sJiall he
mncJi rcqniredr

TI^VERY truth declared by absolute wisdom is
^^^ at the same time a law enacted by absolute
power. Such a truth, and therefore such a law, is
the sentence of the text. The truth is appreciable
by the rudest intellect ; in no race of men, hardly
in any individual man, is the moral sense so de-
based as not to acknowledge the justice of the law.
So that if human nature disregard the truth, or
break the law, it is a wicked servant condemned
out of his own mouth.

Laws are enforced by penalties and sanctions.
The sanction of this law is found in the many
stripes which shall be laid on the servant who
knew his master's will and did it not.

Here, then, is a law whose meaning we cannot
dispute, nor gainsay its justice. Its requirements
are strict ; the penalty for disobedience terrible. It
concerns us, therefore, very nearly to know whether
we fall within its scope. Yes ; all who hear the law
are included under it, as having received much ; for
the law is part of the great gift, the knowledge of
the will of God which is contained in the Gospel.
This is the pearl of great price for which the thrifty
merchant barters all that he has, and blesses him-
self for the exchange.

But every good and perfect gift cometh down
from the Father of lights, and therefore leads to
the knowledge of the giver. Let us consider a little
in detail the gifts which we have received. When
the Apostle is dealing with quantities so incom-
mensurable as the sufferings of this present time,
and the glory which shall be revealed, he yet says,
" I reckon." Let us, then, take our tablets, and put
down what in common fairness we must reckon as
received from God.

First, then, is given us our body, so wonderful
a piece of workmanship, that the intelligence of
which it is the exponent, has wrung a kind of wor-
ship from those who have rejected the God of
revelation. And, as the heathen sacrificer held his
breath in his scrutiny of the reeking vitals, so the
scientific anatomist stands aghast at the multiplicity
of functions necessary to effect the simplest actions,
and at ramifications seen to run into more intricate
complexity as his knowledge advances. This body
is a gift ; we have power over it. Our will imme-
diately controls its motions ; the will has a less
immediate but more important influence, in com-
pelling the organized frame to obey the laws on
which its well-being depends. Many forms of dis-
ease and incapacity are the standing, though un-
acknowledged evidence, that where much has been
given, the much that is required has not been forth-
coming. The body wrecked by drunkenness, glut-
tony, lust, sloth, and uncleanness, not less than the
show of their countenance, doth witness against
shameless men.

But the thing which animates and directs the
body, the soul with all its faculties of feeling and

UIUC

intellect, that, too, is a gift ; a gift whose value
outweiofhs the world.

But a man's soul is his very self; and it seems
a paradox to say that a man's self is given to him-
self, and that he is responsible for himself. It not
only seems to be a paradox, but it is one ; yet this
paradox is attested by the common sense of man-
kind. All the unwritten postulates on which human
intercourse is founded, the material of ordinary con-
versation, every word of expressed or implied blame,
advice, encouragement, admiration, praise, every
law passed, every honour conferred or punishment
awarded, every epitaph whether true or false, evi-
dences the belief that man is a trustee for himself,
and that the trust may be well, and may be ill
administered.

This spirit, which knoweth the things that are
in man, and by a mystery is the thing which
he knoweth, is capable of another gift, by com-
parison with which all previous endowments sink
into nothingness. The spirit of man is capable of
the Spirit of God, and through Him of communion
with the Son and the Father. The same creative
Spirit which moved upon the face of the waters,
and gave life to all that is, doth still by the same
s'lQ-n of water re-create the soul unto eternal life in
holy Baptism. And here, in presence of omni-
potence and infinity, we might think that the much
and little of our text was lost ; but no, the law is
universal, for the world of grace as well as for that
of matter and mind. Mystery upon mystery. Again,
we are responsible for a power which is absolutely
irresistible. The Holy Spirit, that is given through
Christ to man, may be grieved by the resistance of

man to His vital impulses, and O what joy does He
give in token of His good pleasure. We have seen
that encouragements, commands, and prohibitions
are grounded on the conviction of human respon-
sibility ; and the Apostolic precept, "grow in grace
and the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ," is the proof that this growth in grace, which
is the greatest thing that we can conceive within us,
is supremely and comprehensively the much that is
required of us. So that here the analogy of faith
holds good. As God the Son when He became
man submitted Himself to the conditions of birth
and growth, so God the Holy Ghost has willed that
His own Almighty operations should in some in-
scrutable manner be modified by the will of man, in
whom He is pleased to dwell.

Now, in human creatures, the growth of every
power comes by regulated exercise and use. You
will not soon forget the power and penetration
with which that truth has been lately brought
home to you*. " To him that hath shall be given,"
is as truly a law, as that much shall be required of
him. Now the world is the appointed place where
every gift is to be used and every faculty exercised.
The conditions of the world are very different,
though they all rest ultimately on the original
charter of the race : "In the sweat of thy face
shalt thou eat bread."

To many this is the literal law of their lives.
The prayer, " Give us this day our daily bread," is
to them a shelter from an actual and ever-present
apprehension. The battle between work and want

" The reference is to a sermon preached by the Head Master,
from the text, "To him that luith shall be given."

was the scene on which their infant intellisfence
opened ; they pass through the same scene to their
very entrance on the rest of death, if that merci-
fully anticipates the cold and dreary security of the
poor-house. The powers of the body are stunted
by being prematurely taxed, the mind often scanted
of nutriment and exercise. For multiplying popu-
lation requires cheap production, cheap production
necessitates division of labour, division of labour
means monotony of toil, where the workman is
robbed of all interest in his work, all play of in-
telligence or fancy, all sense and pleasure of crea-
tive act.

Now suppose a person were to indulge his fancy,
by picturing conditions of life the very opposite of
these, how would he proceed ? Would he not say
to himself, From infancy to maturity the child, the
boy, the youth, shall have his wants supplied with-
out any demand on his own labour, — he shall have
that long leave of absence from the productive
workshop of the world. All exertion of his bodily
powers shall be directed to the development of the
powers themselves ; as he grows older, the exer-
cises shall be so regulated by gymnastic science,
so artfully combined into games, so seasoned by
the zest of rivalry, that they shall not only give
command of limb and quickness of eye, but shall
at the same time teach control of temper, presence
of mind, and power of organization.

The mind shall have the richest and the rarest
diet. The greatest works of the greatest intellects
of the past shall be its daily food. The student
shall read these masterpieces in the grand lan-
guages in which they were written, that by the

necessity of comparing widely different forms of
expressing thought, he may gain a firmer grasp of
thought itself, and trace the one touch of nature
which makes the whole world kin, and the past
contemporary with the present. For him philology
shall recall dead languages to life. He shall see
the original talent of speech put out to goodly in-
terest : he shall see mankind in its vigorous youth
adapting sounds and words to the expression of
its multiplying wants and thoughts, by discerning
a soul of likeness in things unlike, which is at once
the secret of the poet's spell, and the basis of scien-
tific system.

While he thus studies man, — the proper study of
mankind, — and finds that, where life and will enter,
probability takes the place of certainty, he shall
assure himself of the ultimate existence of certainty,
by learning the immutable laws of lower matter in
the relations of number and magnitude. He shall
follow the investigation as far as his intellect will
carry him, till perhaps he measures the tension of
the invisible web of attraction into which the uni-
verse is woven, and stands amazed at the power of
the instrument by which he makes the calculation.
Neither shall the perception of beauty in form or
sound be stinted. The hand shall be trained to
fix, in line or colour, the impressions of the sight,
or perhaps even the subtler sense that underlies
the impressions. The voice in music shall learn
a new expression of mind, with marvellous charm
over the senses, and yet with that charm dependent
on unconscious obedience to fixed laws of number
and proportion.

His social instincts shall be developed by com-

panionship ; the collision of mind with mind shall
strike fire from both ; membership with a great
body shall shame him out of the littleness of self ; a
healthy competition shall stimulate his energies. He
shall pass from teacher to teacher, so that he shall
enter into the labours of many minds, and assimilate
what is most choice in the individuality of each.

And all this is but the filling-in of the picture.
The main subject has yet to be outlined. Suppose
that this society had its roots in the very origin of
Christianity in the country ; suppose that the statutes
of its foundation spoke of the worship of God, de-
votion to Christ, hunger for the Spirit as the staple
of boyish life ; suppose that every school-time was
still begun and ended with prayer, that the mem-
bers of this body resorted to a Church of matchless
beauty, where noble provision had been made for
the worthy worship of God, and that, besides, op-
portunities were made in which the word was di-
vided to them as they were able to bear it, by those
whose love and sympathy were too familiar to be
doubted. Suppose that after careful instruction and
preparation they took upon themselves their bap-
tismal vow, in the presence of deeply-interested wit-
nesses, and sought the grace of Confirmation sup-
ported by the prayers of those by whom, and of
those with whom they had been taught. Suppose
that then a quiet access was open to Holy Com-
munion, as often as any great sorrow or great joy
moved them to open their heart to God ; or, better
still, when experience had taught them that every
state of circumstance was God's opportunity to draw
them to Himself, and that the only life worth living
was the life of habitual communion with Christ.

lO

Truly, my brethren, this is a picture to make our
heart leap within us ; surely he, whose goings out
and comings in are amidst such blessings as these,
is one who has received much. But is not this
sketch of the conditions conceivably most favour-
able to the growth of the human soul here realized
in actual fact ? Has any part of the description been
drawn from imagination ? Is not every person here
present fully seized and possessed of all this noble
franchise ? How shall we tremble at the much
which shall be required ! Tremble indeed, for there
are in the background the many stripes of punish-
ment for him who knew his master's will and did
it not. But there is a love that casteth out fear.
Turn your hearts to God ; let stream into them
some ray of that love of God who hath given us
His only-begotten Son, and has assured us that
with Him he will give us all things, by these bless-
ings with which He has endowed you. I do not
underrate the toil, the watchfulness, the privation,
the suffering, necessary to use God's gifts aright ;
but I do say, that all these without love profit
nothing, and that with love they lose their nature ;
privation changes to abundance, and labour is re-
generated into delight. The several motions of
that love, the gratitude which dilates the heart
with a sense of enrichment that overmasters its
capacity, the rising transport of humility, as it
ascribes its gifts one after one to the giver, and
finds at last to its delight that not one good thing
within it or without it is its own, but that all
that is good within it is the stirring of God's
Spirit, all without it the token of His hand — this
joy, so searching that it cannot be thought upon

II

without tears, is the obedience which God accepts
for His Son's sake. This untold addition of bless-
inof is a renderino^ of the much that shall be re-
quired of us for the much that we have before
received. Doth not our Church say truly, "O God,
whose service is perfect freedom?" Doth not the
Latin yet more grandly set forth the truth, " Deus,
quem nosse vivere, cui servire regnare est ? "

And now, I hope I may say a few words in the
name of another ^ as well as my own, of the further
blessings which riper years bring with them, es-
pecially in this place. The young have so strong
a sense of life, and so large an interest in the future,
that they are ever pressing forward ; whatever
they meet in life is a means to an end, a thing
to be grappled with and conquered ; and so they
are too busy to discern the fitness and beauty of
the things themselves. But as the lease of life
runs on, a man takes a more leisurely and intelli-
gent survey of his habitation. The beauty of
simple things opens upon him. God's air, and
rain, and sunshine, bring a message to his heart.
The greensward is a rest and refreshment to his
sight. The ordinary patch of country, from which
the younger man turns with impatience because
there is nothing to be done there, no hill to be
climbed, no feature to be talked about to others,
will move the more discerninof heart of as^e to
say grace unto God, who has spread such a table
of delight to feed the eye and sense. So, too, all
relations with our fellow-men assume a deeper
colour and a higher interest. The young man

^ The Rev. H. Tatham, appointed to the Head Mastership of
the Hereford Cathedral School.

I 2

often regards as things of course the expressions
of love that are lavished upon him, — the warm
greeting, the affectionate remembrance, the hearty-
welcome of hospitality. They are to him merely
the small change in the intercourse of life ; he
scarcely stops to count their number, or note their
value, before he thoughtlessly flings them into the
wallet of oblivion behind him. But he that has
seen more of himself and the world, whose longer
continued habit of daily confession unto God has
taught him how little there is lovable in himself,
is deeply grateful for all indications of regard and
kindly construction of his words and deeds, and
sometimes is almost unmanned by the transient
look or slight and unobtrusive act which betrays
a deeper sympathy.

But the lesson that perhaps is most surely learned,
and is most delightful in the learning, is the love,
the tenderness, and the respect that is due to
childhood, boyhood, and youth. Younger eyes may
see the tendency to evil ; and to that, no Christian
of whatever age dares shut his eyes : but longer
experience reveals beauties of character and finer
susceptibility of good. Boys are no longer re-
garded In the mass, as components of a form,
an eleven, or an eight, but each unformed face
looks its Individual appeal as the centre of much
love, the idol of sanguine hopes, the child of many
prayers, the precious jewel of a home. Christianity
betters the good lesson of the heathen satirist of
the great reverence which Is due to boys. It
teaches men to reofard them as the bearers — often.
It is to be feared, almost unconscious bearers — of
the treasure of baptismal grace ; each one so dear

13

to God that He has redeemed him with the blood
of His only-begotten Son, and calls him to a home
where he will be rejoiced over with more than
a father's and a mother's love. And when the
older learner in the school of Christ thinks how
his own memory passes over the stirring incidents
of mature life, and moves among the scenes and
clings to the persons familiar to childhood, he will
tremble lest act or word of his should give offence
to one of those little ones, whose angels do always
behold the face of our Father which is in heaven.

No one who preaches in this place can forget the
mighty dead which lie below him and around him.
Reserve is usually maintained upon the topic, be-
cause it is felt to be a kind of presumption to
appropriate a thought that must be common to
all. But it is not this cloud of witnesses that
compasses me now. It is not the kings of the
nations, even all of them lying in glory, every
one in his own house; it is not the mightier
potentates, who from their tombs still hold sway
over the intellect and imagination of mankind ;
it is not these that haunt my fancy now. This
well-known choir to me is teeming with young
and vigorous life, with multitudes not as they now
are, but the boy or the youth that memory recalls,
and that is still wonderfully latent in the man ;
some in the body, some released from it, like
that sweet and gentle spirit that has last been
called to his rest. Each place of privilege or
custom is peopled with a double, a triple, a mani-
fold presence. My loved and honoured superiors
and colleagues are representative, as well as present.
To all, present or absent, I am a willing debtor ;

14

with some I have been knit by the close tie of trial
suffered in common : for in the troubles and sor-
rows of school life, and they are neither few nor
slight, we took sweet counsel together, and walked
in the house of God as friends.

But what a changeful throng succeeds. The
yearning look of the child that feels the loss of
his mother's kiss, the bold, unreflecting frankness
which wins the confidence it challenges, the finer,
stronger charm of shy and sensitive reserve, the
glow of success, the heroic suppression of disap-
pointment ; the little vanities that disappeared at
a word, and were so pretty and engaging that it
went against the censor's heart to speak the word ;
the sensibility sometimes so delicately shewn, some-
times yet more dear for the honest awkwardness
of its expression ; the wonder, the scare, the almost
reproach, and then the passionate burst of tears
when the meaning of the black seal upon the
letter was broken ; the consciousness of the word
kept and trust justified ennobling the homely
features ; the power and refinement which mental
exertion leaves upon the countenance ; the gracious
seriousness and gathering look of high resolve
when holy things were spoken of, which flashes
a light of promise into the darkness of the future ;
the sight which rejoices angels, the cold, proud,
hard-set features softening under God's grace
unto repentance, — all these and other phases of
the health and sickness of the maturing soul,
many as the leaves upon the tree, changeful as the
April cloud, come crowding thickly on. Each one
importunately prefers its claim for love. No human
heart, whatever its will, can fully answer even one

15

of all these claims. Bankrupt in itself, it must re-
sort for supply to the unsearchable and inexhaust-
ible riches of the love of Christ.

Of you therefore here present, in your own per-
sons, and as representing those that have gone be-
fore, I ask your prayers, that God would forgive the
scant return that has been made for the much that
has been given. Of you I most humbly ask pardon
for all things whereinsoever I have offended any
one of you. I would fain dwell on the things with
which conscience reproaches me ; but I have de-
tained you long enough. And I have now the
benefit of Christian fellowship. I know that by
many my pardon is granted before it is asked ; for
do I not know that they have come to God's holy
table, and is not that an assurance that they are in
charity with me in common with all mankind ?

One familiar word at last, — Flo7^eat. May this
school of the sons of the prophets be a living
branch of the true vine, — Floreat. May each mem-
ber of the school not only be a branch that blos-
soms, but may the blossom set in goodly fruit, that
by the same nourishment of the root shall ripen
unto eternal life.

|1rmtcb bg lames |lurluv ;tub Co., Crofon JTarb, ©viorb.

J&^.

{