A Lent in London. A course of sermons on social subjects organized by the London Branch of the Christian Social Union, and preached ... during Lent, 1895

LIBRARY

OF THE

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

OF

Class

THE

CHRISTIAN SOCIAL UNION

(LONDON BRANCH).

President: THE BISHOP OF DURHAM.
Chairman: CANON H. S. HOLLAND.

of

THIS Union consists of Members of the Church
England who have the following objects at heart : —

1. To claim for the Christian Law the ultimate authority

to rule social practice.

2. To study in common how to apply the moral truths

and principles of Christianity to the social and
economic difficulties of the present time.

3. To present Christ in practical life as the living

Master and King, the Enemy of wrong and selfish-
ness, the Power of righteousness and love.

Members are expected to pray for the well-being of
the Union at Holy Communion, more particularly on or
about the following days : —

The Feast of the Epiphany.
The Feast of the Ascension.
The Feast of St. Michael and All Angels.

Further information can be obtained from the Secretary ',

Rev. PERCY DEARMER, 28, Duke Street, Manchester

Square, W.

A LENT IN LONDON

A LENT IN LONDON

A COURSE OF

SERMONS ON SOCIAL SUBJECTS

ORGANIZED BY THE LONDON BRANCH OF THE CHRISTIAN SOCIAL

UNION, AND PREACHED IN THE CHURCHES OF ST. EDMUND

LOMBARD STREET, AND ST. MARY-LE-STRAND

DURING LENT, 1895

WITH A PREFACE

BY

HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, M.A.

CANON AND PRECENTOR OF ST. PAUL'S

" Is not this the Fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wicked-
ness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that
ye break every yoke ? " — Lesson for Ash Wednesday

/*Z%?^

UNIVERSITY 1

LONDON

LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
AND NEW YORK

I89S

All eights reserved

PREFACE

THE following Sermons have been selected from
two courses preached during Lent, 1895, on week-
days, mainly to business men, at the churches of
St. Edmund, Lombard Street, and St. Mary-le-
Strand.

The London Branch of the Christian Social Union
is responsible for inviting the several preachers. But
each preacher is entirely responsible for his own
utterance ; and for nothing more. It will be obvious
that they differ widely in aim and judgment. It
would be meaningless if they did not, in face of the
intricacy and the complication of the vast social
problem which Christianity is called upon to handle.
Many types, many minds, many experiences, must
draw together, through much correction and discipline,
before the Church can adequately grapple with her
task. The Christian Social Union has thought it
well, therefore, simply to invite such speakers as
were qualified to win a hearing, and then to leave
them perfectly free to express themselves. Our one
aim is that such matters as these should be pressed
upon the anxious attention of the laity in Lent.

VI PREFACE.

Only by so doing can we hope to arrive, after
many a long day of dispute and of sifting, at that
agreement, which as yet could only be forced or
mechanical. We cordially thank the Archbishop
of Canterbury for consenting to assist in this our
endeavour.

Yet there is one basal agreement which we did
set ourselves to secure. We have asked only those
to preach who believe, in heart and soul, that, below
all the varieties of social work and social thought,
there is but one living Lord and Master Who can
solve our riddles, and disentangle our confusions, and
give union to our broken brotherhood. Here is our
rock. Other foundation can no man lay than is laid
in Jesus Christ.

H. S. HOLLAND.

i, AMEN COURT, ST. PAUL'S,
May, 1895.

CONTENTS

PART I.— OUR MOTHER.

PAGE

A NATIONAL CHURCH. THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY 3

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. REV. EDMUND Mc-
CLURE, M.A.

4 'We are members one of another." — EPH. iv. 25 10

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. REV. T.
HANCOCK, M.A.

Acts ii. 8-1 1, 40-47; Hi. 1-6 ; iv. 1-3, 7-12 20

THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. REV. R. R. DOLLING . 31

PART II.— OUR BROTHER MEN.

PARTY POLITICS. REV. WILFRID RICHMOND, M.A.
''Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth." — i COR. viii. i . 41

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. REV. H. RUSSELL WAKEFIELD, M.A. 50

PEACE AND WAR. REV. J. LLEWELYN DAVIES, D.D.

"If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all

men." — ROM. xii. 18 63

THE COLONIES. REV. BERNARD R. WILSON, M.A.

"His seed shall become a multitude of nations." — GEN. xlviii. 19 81

Vlll CONTENTS.

PAGE

COUNTRY LIFE. REV. J. CHARLES Cox, LL.D., F.vS.A.

" Desire a better country." — HEB. xi. 16 93

CLERK-LIFE. REV. H. C. SHUTTLEWORTH, M.A. ... 105

Civic DUTIES. REV. CANON BARNETT, M.A.

"Jerusalem is built as a city which is at unity with itself." —

Ps. cxxii. 3 114

WHAT THE CHURCH MIGHT DO FOR LONDON. REV.

STEWART D. HEADLAM, B.A 127

CHRISTIAN CHARITY. REV. PREBENDARY HARRY JONES, M.A.

* l Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor . . . and have

not charity, it profiteth me nothing." — I COR. xiii. 3. . . 134

OVER-POPULATION. REV. G. SARSON, M.A.

" So God created man in His own image, in the image of God
created He him ; male and female created He them. And
God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and
multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it." — GEN. i.
27, 28.

" Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be

more feeble, are necessary." — I COR. xii. 22 142

ART AND LIFE. REV. PERCY DEARMER, B.A.

" For with Thee is the Well of Life, and in Thy Light shall we

see Light."— Ps. xxxvi. 9 155

PART III.— OUR SELVES.

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. REV. CANON HENRY SCOTT
HOLLAND, M.A.

"Blow the trumpet in Zion, sanctify a fast, call a solemn assembly :
gather the people, sanctify the congregation, assemble the
elders, gather the children, and those that suck the breasts :
let the bridegroom go forth of his chamber, and the bride
out of her closet. Let the priests, the ministers of the Lord,
weep between the porch and the altar, and let them say,
Spare Thy people, O Lord, and give not Thine heritage to
reproach, that the heathen should rule over them : wherefore
should they say among the people, Where is their God ? " —
JOEL ii. 15-17 169

CONTENTS. IX

CHARACTER. REV. E. F. RUSSELL, M.A 180

THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF SIN. REV. W. C, G. LANG, M.A.
"For their sakes I consecrate Myself." — JOHN xvii. 19 ... 186

PERSONALITY. REV. A. CHANDLER, M.A.

" What is man ? " — Ps. viii. 4 193

LOSING THE SOUL TO SAVE IT. REV. PREBENDARY EYTON.

" Whosoever will save his life shall lose it : and whosoever will

lose his life for My sake shall find it." — MATT. xvi. 25 . . 200

CHRIST THE SOCIAL RECONCILER. REV. T. C. FRY, D.D.

" There can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither bond
nor free, there can be no male and female : for ye are all one
man in Christ Jesus." — GAL. iii. 28 207

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT. REV. A. L, LILLEY, M.A.

" He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is

broken down, and without walls." — PROV. xxv. 28 . . . 214

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF BEAUTY. REV. W. C. GORDON
LANG, M.A.

" Give unto the Lord the glory due unto His name : bring an
offering, and come before Him : worship the Lord in the
beauty of holiness." — I CHRON. xvi. 29 222

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. REV. CANON HENRY SCOTT
HOLLAND, M.A.

"And even things without life giving sound, whether pipe or
harp, except they give a distinction in the sounds, how shall
it be known what is piped or harped ? ... So likewise ye,
except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood,
how shall it be known what is spoken ? for ye shall speak
into the air. . . . Therefore if I know not the meaning of
the voice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a barbarian, and
he that speaketh shall be a barbarian unto me."— I COR.
xiv. 7, 9, ii 230

PART I.
OUR MOTHER CHURCH

B

Of THI

UNIVERSITY

OF

A NATIONAL CHURCH.

BY

THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

HE who can teach and loves to teach, teaches.
They who can trade and seek to trade, trade. They
who are strong and love justice, judge, either by num-
bers or by chosen men. The community soon finds
its interest in encouraging education, commerce, law.
Lynch-law ceases, commerce is defended, schools are
founded.

Villages, castles, kingdoms, welcome the religious
teacher. The nation, while it takes force and soldier-
ing, and law and penalty, wholly to itself, leaves not
only trade but scholarship and science to the utmost
in the hand of individuals, but encourages and pro-
tects them, assigns them privilege and the means
which their precious work cannot earn.

The universal gifts of individuals to religion, the
lands, the charges, the buildings which are bestowed
by their self-sacrifice, are recognized ; their dedication
approved, their perpetuity assured. Teachers and
disciples alike are so devoted, so strong, and so
leading, that it is wise to take their leaders into
counsel, to confer privileges which coincide with
limitations, to provide that what they do shall be
done for all. This, however, is their Divine mis-
sion, and its acceptance by the community becomes
an actual fresh strength to them as against the

4 A LENT IN LONDON.

narrowness and exclusiveness which in human nature
too readily follow the profession of even the truest
tenets.

The patron who charges himself and his posterity
commonly retains the right of recommending the
individual teacher from among those whom the
Church has commissioned to spread the Divine
knowledge and grace. The people name the lay-
men who are to attend to the less spiritual affairs.
The discipline of the clergy is exercised by courts
of specialists adopted by the community. The
public worship is that of the Catholic Church, edited
(so to speak) from age to age by those that have
authority, and received by Church and realm.

Then, when he is ordained priest, a man has set
before him the awful, yet stimulating picture of " the
people committed to your care ; " of the service hence-
forth due from him " to all Christian people, and
specially such as are committed to your care ; " of his
personal obligations "as well to the sick as to the
whole ; " of exertions among individuals so extensive
as that " there be no place left among you for error
in doctrine or for viciousness in life." Nothing
smaller, lower, poorer than that ideal can the Church
of God delineate. To nothing more contracted is
her minister commissioned and sent. Whatever may
be the ideal of that Church, within sects or exclusive
confessions, that care of all, that responsibility, that
"being sent to all" is the ideal we cherish. No
clergyman of a National Church can do more in
his own person to denationalize it than one who
would either invent and expatiate in liturgies at his
pleasure, or disdain the " admonition " which he
promised reverently to obey, or divert to his own
benefit by payment of money one of those cures of
souls which others hold in trust.

But the spirit of the clergy is against these things

A NATIONAL CHURCH. 5

—these denationalizing, self-aggrandizing practices.

What class of citizens has better recognized their

national as well as their catholic position? They

are themselves men of the people ; none more so

than their bishops. There would have been no

popular education for ages in England but for the

work of the clergy, who in days of apathy founded

schools everywhere, and with a true recognition of

the nature of that work called them at once " national

schools." The very roads and bridges to a vast

extent owe their construction to clerical bodies.

What art in England compares to the art of the

churches ? And is it not far more than doubtful

whether there would have been anything worthy of

the name of liberty if it had not been for the un-

dauntedness and the political science of the bishops

guiding the instincts of the military leaders against

oppression at home and from abroad? Certainly

whatever benefits sprang, or are yet to spring, from

our Reformation could never have been attained

but by the study, science, and martyrdoms of a

national clergy. What could a sect have effected in

that hour ?

Granted that, in a well-known period, apathy and
corruption pervaded many, what institution is incor-
ruptible which has men for administrators? What
institution, what organization, was more overpowered
by that benumbing drench of apathy and corruption
than the House of Commons and its constituencies ?
The typical stronghold of independence was sur-
rendered.

Is there any more singularly national fact than
the recovery, the simultaneous, contemporaneous
recovery, of both ?

Of our own passing day I will say but this. Do
we not recognize that in the last half-century there

6 A LENT IN LONDON.

has been a national revival in religion — one that has
thrown all opposing forces with all their power into
strong relief? Compare our schools, our churches,
our services, our dioceses, our benevolent or mis-
sionary efforts, with the best that could be produced
by the best men half a century ago. It would be
ridiculous to deny that the enormous change is a
national movement, though it has risen as peacefully
as a smooth tide. And I would ask you to look
back to lives and letters and memoirs that are within
every man's reach, and say (if you please) what men,
what individuals, of what class, of what profession,
were the very fountains of all this. Let any man
say, who professes to know the history of his own
times. And if you feel it is impossible to despair of
the nation with that strong and holy record of its
latest years — will you, with the facts before you,
despair of or despise the Church ?

If so, it is at the dictation not of truth but of
wilfulness. I see it said, " This is a phase caused by
modern pressure. The spirit of the Church is sacer-
dotal, self-aggrandizing." It is not for me to explain
revenues which exist on paper. But if you will look
below the surface, if you will read memoirs which
exhibit the initiation of the modern pressure itself,
the underground work which preceded measures,
societies, funds, you will realize that Church work
out of sight was the strength of the situation ; and
as you look back and back you will find little break.
The modern spirit is the ancient spirit — the spirit
which has moved the National Church from the
beginning. Nor was that Church anything but
national, anything but established ever. No act or
deed, no word or resolution or sign-manual ever
established it, ever altered its first relation to the
people, or its view of its obligations.

What was it when this was going on ? " They

A NATIONAL CHURCH. 7

preached the Word of life to whom they could.
. . . When the king was converted they received
larger licence to preach throughout all parts, and to
build and restore churches." " He forced no one
into Christianity, only he embraced believers with
closer affection as his fellow-citizens in a heavenly
kingdom. He had learned from the teachers and
authors of his salvation that Christ's service must be
voluntary, not of constraint. Nor did he delay to
give those his teachers a settled residence suitable to
their degree in his metropolis, with such possessions
in divers kinds as were necessary for them." l

Is that establishment or is it not ?

It is the primitive record of Augustine's position
under Ethelbert.

Or this in Wessex : " The king, observing Agil-
bert's erudition and industry, desired him to accept
an Episcopal see there, and stay there as bishop of
his nation."

Or this about St. Aidan, the Apostle of the North :
" He was in the king's residence. . . . He had in it
a church and a chamber, and was wont often to go
and stay [at Bamborough], to make excursions, to
preach in the country round, which he did also in
other of the king's residences, having nothing of his
own except his church and some adjacent fields."

Or this in East Anglia : Fuesey " built a monas-
tery on the place which he had received from the
king . . . afterwards [the next] king of that province,
and all the nobles adorned it with more stately
buildings and donations."

Such is the England of the early seventh century.

These are the first beginnings, and the very
earliest records of that same National Church estab-
lished, of which six working men, coming as a
1 Bede, i. 25, 26, 597.

8 A LENT IN LONDON.

deputation with a complaint, said to me the other
day, as they left my room, " Well, sir, we hope you
will do what you can for us about our parish church,
for it's the last bit of freehold we have left." Or
as a very poor, ignorant man, leaning against the
churchyard wall, said to my friend, " Yes, sir, it's
the parish church — my parish church. There's no-
body can hinder me from going in there. Whether
I go or whether I don't go, I have got the right to
go to service when I please." Poor fellow ! he was
no controversialist ; he knew nothing of the politics
which were manoeuvring over him and his rights.

But these men held a doctrine about their rights
which had been well understood and acted on for
thirteen hundred years in England, and for a good
fifteen hundred years in Wales.

And surely politics, party politics, have no con-
cern with that doctrine. They have not formed or
built up either the rights or the duties. They are
ephemeral. They are " a phase of modern pressure,"
if you please.

They have the same power and the same right to
deprive and reconstitute the Church as they would
have to claim the accumulated capital of chartered
companies as national property ; the same right and
power as they would have to suspend the protectorate
of the high seas, and to call on the British merchant
navies to provide for their own security — the same
right and power, and not a grain more. The very
existence of the fleets of commerce repays the
national protection of them a thousand times over.

You will not suppose, will you, that I, thus speak-
ing against time, have confounded the clergy with
the Church ? I have taken for granted that all here
have before them the fact that the grandest political
action of the Reformation was that it replaced the

A NATIONAL CHURCH. 9

clergy in the position of citizens ; that it made the
highest moral interests of clergy and laity identical.
If the Church were the clergy there would be no
National Church. The most Judicious of theologians
could never have maintained that the Church was
the nation and the nation the Church. But if they
are a Christ-commissioned class of citizens, mes-
sengers, watchmen, stewards of the Master, like
Himself not ministered to but ministering, then the
history of the nation down to this hour, the history
of England, with the history of the Church erased
from its pages, would be an unintelligible chronicle.
As it stands, no man can deny that through evil and
good, through darkness and light, through storm and
sun, through blunder and through right, it is a pro-
gressive tale of the kingdom of God and of the
upward march of men.

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH
UNITY.

BY THE

REV. EDMUND McCLURE, M.A.
[Secretary of the S.P.C.K.]

u We are members one of another." — EPH. iv. 25.

" ALL the labour of man," says the Preacher (Eccles.
vi. 7), " is for his mouth, and yet the appetite is not
filled."

Hunger and thirst, cold and heat, these are the
goads to labour, and in the continual recurrence of
their demands lie the main stimulants to human
activity. The constant efforts required to meet these
exigencies furnish the warp and woof of history.

The migration of peoples, the antagonisms between
man and man, the wars of tribe with tribe, and nation
with nation, have had here their chief sources. The
hunting-grounds or fertile lands of the world are
neither equally distributed nor unlimited in extent,
and hence the perpetual struggle among men for the
possession of the best.

If food dropped into our mouths without effort, if
the needs of the appetites could be met as easily as
the demand of the lungs for air, there would be no
incentive to labour, no cause for competition and
conflict. In such circumstances we should, indeed,
escape the burden of toil, and be freed from the
difficulties of the labour question ; but our security as

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. u

to daily bread might be purchased at the expense of
being reduced to a condition resembling that of the
lower parasites, or of being wiped out of existence
altogether. The recurrent demands of the body put
physical muscles and mental fibre to usury, with the
result of a gain in bodily strength, and a clearer
mental prevision. In the absence, on the other hand,
of the labour struggle, our bodies and minds would
become fibreless, and we should be unable to endure
the strain put upon us by our environment.

While recognizing, however, in the ceaseless effort
for daily bread, the development of muscular and
mental faculties through the forced activity of
brain and limb, we are at the same time made
painfully aware, by universal experience, that the
struggle for existence brings many and terrible
evils in its train. Competition has its favourable
aspects, it is true, but these are not so great that we
can afford to neglect altogether the serious ills which
follow from it. Moral considerations come in here
which lower our estimation of that treadmill life to
which the struggle for existence would consign the
greater part of the human family. " Every man for
himself, and the devil take the hindmost," is an
aphorism which may satisfy the philosopher who
excludes ethics from his scheme of economic laws.
The average man, as well as the moralist, finds it jar
upon his idea of the fitness of things. " Every man
for himself," is a principle which, if fully carried out,
would not only render corporate life impossible, but
would in the long run frustrate even the selfish aim it
was meant to serve. It is in such an atmosphere of
personal competition that the anti-social vices grow
luxuriously. Here is the source of that covetousness
which the inspired Apostle recognizes as idolatry — an
idolatry more debasing, perhaps, than that of the old
world. Hence come " hatred, variance, emulations,

12 A LENT IN LONDON.

wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings." Hence,
too, that restless struggle after so-called independence,
that paradise of some men in which they may " live
their own lives " without any regard to the opinions
or well-being of the community as a whole. We
cannot, however, even if we would, " live to ourselves."
We cannot attain that ideal of independence which
some men put before them as the expected reward
of years of privation and labour. Independence is
impossible in the human family as it is constituted.
If we want an illustration of independent lives, we
must go far below the human species.

Of all God's creatures, it is strange that the lowest
in organization should be the most independent. The
minute Amoeba, found in the mud of our ditches,
enjoys an almost perfect independence. It has no
opposite sex, no family in the strict sense, no tribe
to which it owes duties of any sort. Each individual is
self-contained, supports and perpetuates itself without
any co-operation from beings of its kind.

Its life does not even depend upon the differentia-
tion of function, for each part acts like every other
part. The lack of a circulating, digestive, or nervous
system, the absence of senses or limbs, is but an ex-
tension of its independence.

We might imagine man to have been created on
such a model, and we might well ask, What would
be his condition in such circumstances ? In the first
place, he would be non-social. He would have no
relations to others of his kind, since there would be
no sex, and since each individual would be complete
in itself. Consequently there could be no possible
breach of moral obligations, no sin in its social
aspect, in the lives of such beings. A supreme
egotism would determine the normal line of conduct,
and that, too, without sin or blame.

Suppose such a being brought into a sphere of

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. 13

social relations by the introduction of sex. We have
here the beginning of duty, the origin of social ethics.
There would henceforward be a counter-strain acting
upon the original egotism — love to wife, love to family,
enlarging successively by duties owed to the tribe and
the nation into patriotism. All these duties would
be in conflict, at first, with purely personal desires.
These external claims, moreover, would become more
exacting in proportion as the community adopted a
higher standard of public duty, and they would tend
to be enforced by punishment inflicted on all who
neglected them. The collective, coercive voice of the
community would at length become expressed in law.
The statute-book would furnish the standard for re-
pressing the purely personal instinct, or where it
failed, a common sentiment — vox populi — public
opinion, would tend more and more to restrain in-
dividual selfishness.

This external reminder that a man's life is not his
own would be persistent, and would burn into the
blood of each individual, in each passing generation,
respect for the whole community. It would beget
and strengthen the social instinct, and prepare the
individual, under the incentives of the religious ideal,
to merge his personal concerns in the concerns of the
whole, — to realize that his highest life is not in the
abundance of the things he possesseth, not in
the satisfaction of purely personal desires, but in the
sacrifice of his egotistic instincts to the welfare of
the whole community.

If all men were actuated by this spirit we should
have attained the social ideal. True Socialism
recognizes that selfishness is the great enemy of
progress, and that the man who evades social duties,
who tries to lead an egotistic and independent life,
without consideration for the whole, is a sinner
against society — not to speak of a higher culpability.

14 A LENT IN LONDON.

The Christian and the Socialist are thus agreed as
to the true aim of social development. They both
recognize St. Paul's ideal of society, that, looking not
only at the nation, but at the great human family as
a whole, when one member suffers, all the members
suffer with it.

This interdependence of the whole human family
is brought home to us more vividly every day by
economic proofs. The great arteries of steam com-
munication all over the world, the extending nervous
system of telegraphs, are manifestations of the cor-
porate life of nations. A dearth or an abundance in
one part of the world makes itself felt everywhere.
Prosperity in one country gives greater means of
purchasing the imports from another ; a famine in
one country means the cessation of exports, which
are the means of paying for what men require from
afar. No country can, therefore, any longer " live to
itself." Solidarity, in a word, is being enforced upon
us even by events which seem in themselves non-
ethical.

This gospel of the solidarity of humanity is not a
new one, requiring a new organization and the enforce-
ment of new motives in order to realize it. It is as old
as Christianity. The hybrid word " altruism," which
expresses the incentive to solidarity, and which some
think to cover an ideal as new as the invented vocable,
is as old as St. Paul. Ye are " every one members
one of another," " many members, yet one body ; and
the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of
thee : nor again the head to the feet, I have no need
of thee." The term " body," used by St. Paul to de-
signate the new society set up in the world by Jesus
Christ, enables us to realize more fully its constitution
and aim. St. Paul saw in this society a combination in
which the members might each have as varied func-
tions as those of the eye, ear, and limbs of the human

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. 15

organism, and yet be all under the regime of the one
Head, with no antagonism or friction between the
components, " with no schism in the body." It was to
be a visible organization, one in its Head, in its faith,
and in its entrance rite. The apostles and evangelists,
the pastors and teachers, were given for the edifying of
this body of Christ ; and the work of building up the
society was to continue " until we all come to the
unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son
of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the
age of the fulness of Christ."

The human body as known to St. Paul illustrated
in its co-operating members fully enough the solidarity
of the Christian society. All the knowledge which
we have acquired about the body since his day serves
but to bear out more fully the truth of the illustration.

The body, as known to the modern physiologist,
is built up of myriads of minute living cells. There
are muscular cells, fat cells, nerve cells, bone cells,
and cells floating freely in the blood. Each cell has
a kind of independent life, but a life that is con-
ditioned by the well-being of the whole. No cell
can live to itself, and each and all are at their best
when they co-operate together and work in harmony.
Some of the cells, indeed, if we may trust accredited
physiologists, have such a function assigned to them
as the protection of the citadel of the body from the
attacks of enemies. These cells are always on the
look out, as it were, for any virulent microbes which
may find an entrance into the human organism, and
are competent, if in vigorous vitality, to make away
with such dangerous intruders.

The principle of co-operation could find no more
striking illustration than in the attitude of the cells of
the human body to each other, to the whole, and to
external influences generally, and this principle of co-
operation was contained in the concept of St. Paul. If

or THC
( UNIVERSITY )

1 6 A LENT IN LONDON.

that large section of society which calls itself Chris-
tendom could realize the concept of St. Paul in such
fashion, that each member of it should stand in relation
to every other, as each cell of the human body stands to
its colleagues, can we doubt that the highest interests
of the Christian community would be secured ? Could
any statesman or any enlightened Socialist conceive
a more satisfactory scheme of society? If a com-
bination of men, which occupies itself with securing
the interests of each craftsman of a certain trade, sees
that its well-being is not imperilled by becoming a
unit in a larger confederacy of all trades, would it
not be prepared to believe that the principles upon
which it is formed would find a fuller and more
satisfactory application in a labour league which,
embracing all workers, would transcend the limits of
language, national boundaries, and race ? The one
Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church is, in fact, but
an extension of this idea of social union — an organi-
zation which aims at extending the " labour league "
into a league of all men, in order to secure the
individual interests, temporal and eternal, of all its
members.

Can such an organization, in which most Christians
express their faith by the lips, ever be realized—
realized, I mean, in such a way as St. Paul describes the
Church ? The belief in an invisible Church maintained
by some, can only be logically held by those who
believe that Christianity has nothing to do with the
temporal welfare of its adherents, but is a simple
sifting machine, by which a few previously determined
souls are to be selected out of the many for a higher
stage of existence. Our Lord's solemn prayer, thrice
repeated at the most solemn moment of His life, for
the unity of His followers, gives no countenance to
such a view : " That they all may be one : I in them,
and Thou in Me, that they may ^perfect in one ; that

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. 17

the world may know that Thou hast sent Me." The
visible proof to the world of His own Divine mission
is made here to depend upon the unity and consequent
perfection of His followers. All preaching and teach-
ing, as St. Paul tells us, is in order that we may all
come to the unity of the faith — to that condition of
things when the vision of the prophet will be realized,
and men shall no longer look for rules of conduct to
external statutes, but shall have God's Law written
in their hearts, and all shall know Him from the least
to the greatest.1

Is it not strange that such a state of things, the
unconscious aim of all social reformers, should seem so
visionary, so Utopian, that its consideration can barely
be entertained by practical men ? The unity for which
our Lord prayed; the Church without blemish, or
wrinkle, or any such thing, which St. Paul foresaw ; the
one Holy Catholic Church in which we all profess our
faith ; — is this never to come into the consideration of
men as capable of practical realization ? If we are
prepared to think that our Lord's prayer for visible
unity can never be attained in this world, what
warrant can we have that any of our own prayers
will be successful ? There is, in truth, no reason for
such apathy and unconcern. Even at this moment
all Christian men are consciously or unconsciously
yearning after unity. It is in the air. Labour com-
binations, Grindelwald conferences, Papal Rescripts
addressed to east and west, manifestoes of leading
English Churchmen, are all indications that the
Holy Spirit of unity is at this moment especially
at work in the hearts of men. Is it not a remarkable
fact that the head of the great Latin Church should
at this time be using words of conciliation and peace
to the non-Roman world ? May we not consider it
as providential, and as making for unity, that he

1 Jer. xxxi. 33, 34.

1 8 A LENT IN LONDON.

should be empowered by the Latin Communion to
" voice " that Church in deciding questions of faith ?
Is it too much to see in all these movements the
pledges of the final attainment of Christian union,
which is the truest form of social union ? The
obstacles to such a realization are, it is true, many
and serious. Arrayed against the Power that makes
for solidarity and unity, are all the works of the flesh
— the seven deadly sins, Pride, Covetousness, Lust,
Envy, Gluttony, Anger, Sloth — which are as inimical
to the temporal interests of man as they are to his
eternal welfare. Strong though these enemies are,
enthroned as they may be in the hearts of thousands
of professing Christians, we ought not to fear the final
issue, for we have the secure promise of final triumph
— "The gates of hell shall not prevail against the
Church of Christ." Each one of us, in the mean time,
can do something to mar or promote that unity.
We can war against selfishness in our own hearts.
We can help to make public opinion a more perfect
representative of the Christian conscience. We can
show, by our interests in the great social questions of
the time, that we have sympathy with everything
that tends to secure the prosperity of all men. We
can study, too, the causes and history of our divisions.
The series of publications published under the
Master of the Rolls will afford us abundant material
for following the early division-movements in this
country ; and I think it may be safely said, on the
evidence of these documents, that the main and
immediate causes of these movements were political,
and not religious. The subsequent divisions in this
country which have ended — can we say ended ? — in
producing some three hundred sects among us, will
be found to have been owing in the main to the im-
perfect knowledge of their promoters ; to the tyranny
of words, which are " the counters of wise men and

SOCIAL UNION AND CHURCH UNITY. 19

the money of fools," and to the subtle pride of men.
Each body of Christians naturally thinks itself pos-
sessed of the'" truth/' and therefore cannot see its way
to endanger this sacred deposit in any steps towards
union. But is it possible that the " truth " can be a
divider? Where is the judge, too, who will decide
between all these rival possessors of "the truth "?
An appeal to the sacred Scriptures has been the
ostensible cause of the variance, and can, therefore,
hardly bring about union. We know that the Church
existed, and had accomplished the conversion of a
large portion of the Roman empire, before the
documents of the New Testament were put together.
Indeed, we have no warrant from the sacred writings
themselves that the Church was to be founded upon
documents. It was founded by men, Jesus Christ
being the chief Corner Stone of its foundation ; and
the deeds of these men and their successors, as they are
recorded in the Acts of the Apostles and other chapters
in early Church history, were under God the means of
building it up. We can study these records in such a
spirit of humility as will make us ready recipients of
even new and unpalatable truths. We can pray for
enlightenment best when using the means to obtain
it, and we can, following the Apostle's command,
" mark them which cause divisions among you "—
divisions which lead to the frittering away of spiritual
power in antagonism with each other which ought
to be expended against the common enemy, divisions
which make it easy for the selfish to secure their
ends, and defeat the aims of all true social combina-
tion. We can, above all, echo our Lord's prayer for
visible unity. " Pray for the peace of Jerusalem : they
shall prosper that love thee."

[A portion of the conclusion of this sermon was, for time-reasons,
omitted in delivery.]

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE
CHURCH.

BY THE

REV. T. HANCOCK, M.A.,

Lecturer of St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, London.

Acts ii. 8-1 1, 40-47 ; iii. 1-6 ; iv. 1-3, 7-12.

THIS is a very long text for a short sermon, but it is
the shortness of the sermon which makes it needful
to take so long a text. The text is itself a sermon
which sets before us the alliance and the contrast
between those two cities or commonwealths, the
ecclesiastical and the civil, to which every Church-
man belongs. In the early sections we see "the
Jerusalem above," whereof the Apostle of the Nations
told the Galatians they had by baptism received the
franchise ; therein Jew and Greek, bond and free, are
equally citizens, and she is "the mother of us all."
In the later sections we see " the Jerusalem above "
exercising her " political office " in the midst of " the
Jerusalem that now is," the secular city or common-
wealth. The very same persons who in the secular
city are sundered into castes and classes, sects and
parties, citizens and slaves, " impotent " and healthy,
learned and ignorant, are by the universal ecclesi-
astical city — which is therefore the most real
commonwealth — united in one community and
fellowship through Christ Jesus the Lord, as they

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. 21

are in every common or parish church. His Apostles
at once begin to assert that the " Jerusalem above,"
the Catholic Church, is in so full a sense " the mother
of us all," the mother alike of Christianity and of
Humanity, that the first man whom they " save " in
Christ's name is not a Christian. He is a lame
beggar, who is outside the new fellowship of Christi-
anity, who has not yet been christened. " His Name
through faith in His Name hath made this man
strong, whom ye see and know : yea, the faith which
is by Him hath given him this perfect soundness in
the presence of you all." St. Peter here asserts, as
St. Paul afterwards urged his episcopal successor to
teach, that the Head of the Church is not only the
Saviour "specially of those that believe," but
because He is the Saviour of the faithful, "is the
Saviour of all men ; " so that every lame and im-
potent beggar, in every secular State, has a right to
the very greatest expectations from Jesus Christ
and His bishops, and from us the members of His
Church.

I.

It would be easy to preach a hundred sermons
upon the title which has been given me to-day as
my text. What the brother who wished me to speak
upon "The Political Office of the Church" exactly
meant by this encyclopaedical sentence, I do not
know. I feel how difficult it is to talk for a limited
time about so unlimited a matter without uttering
truisms which most of us consent unto, though few
of us may act upon them. The line which I intend
to take, after much thinking over it, may not be the
best in itself, but it will certainly be the best to
relieve me from impertinence, and to serve you with
hints which may help you to understand " the
political office" which you hold in your national

22 A LENT IN LONDON.

State and in your local parishes as the citizens of
the supernal Jerusalem. I propose only the very
modest task of reminding you what we ought in a
parish church to mean by the three terms in the
title, "The Church," "Political," and "Office," or at
least part of what we ought to mean by them.

Although such a method as this may not be exciting
or interesting, it seems to be needful. For you have
perhaps noticed that our professional politicians, our
newspapers, and our other public enlighteners or
mystifiers, mostly use each of these terms in the
vaguest manner, as if everybody knew what they
meant, or nobody should be disturbed about their
meaning, (i) By "the Church," they mean the
bishops and the beneficed clergy. (2) By " Political,"
they mean the very thing which the Church, as the
common mother of us all, is obliged to regard as
most anti-political, namely, the squabbles between
the rival parties which divide and rend the political
commonwealth, the ups and downs of Whigs and
Tories, Radicals and Conservatives, money-lords and
landlords, Progressives and Moderates, or whatever
be the political nicknames of the hour and place.
The Church justifies that political ideal which is more
or less clearly seen by each party ; but she condemns
the unneighbourly hatred, slander, false witness, and
conceit by which each party attempts to realize an
ideal which it professes to be intended for the profit
of the undivided commonwealth. The common
ecclesiastical mother reminds the Tory politician that
his very first obligation to God and the community
is to look chiefly at the good side of Radicalism and
Radicals, and she preaches to the Radical believer
the precisely contrary social morality to that which he
preaches on the platform and reads in the newspaper.
They are equally her children ; and her estimate of
the slaves of both parties is to be seen in that

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. 23

" General Confession " to which she calls them both
in her "Common" Prayer. (3) By " Office," the
parties which divide the commonwealth seem usually
to mean the individual wealth, place, or power which
may be obtained at the end of a campaign by the
cunningest fighter for the triumphant party. The
bewildered citizen has always to come out of the
heated strife of the dividing parties into the cool
shadow of the common uniting parish church, in
order to learn the right meaning of his everyday
" political " phrases.

II.

What ought we, as the citizens of Christianity, to
understand by these terms ? By " the Church " we
ought to mean the whole organic body of the bap-
tized, not in England and Wales merely, but through-
out all the nations upon earth, with the apostolic
bishops whom Christ Jesus has sent to the national
polities, and the priests and deacons whom He has
sent into the local polities. I say expressly " The
Church," because the two kindred parties which
occupy so much time and space in the field of
politics — the Liberationists and the Erastians — never
speak of " The Church." Or if they speak of " the
Church," the one and only Church, it is as some
vague and intangible ecclesia in nubibus beyond the
reach of political life, and which cannot be set upon
a hill, so that all men on earth may see it, and go up
into it. They say that " Tlte Church " is " invisible."
If so, the Church can have no " political office " at all.
The Liberationists and the Erastians always speak
either of " a Church" or of " the Churches."' But, as
by birth or naturalization men are made members
of the one nation of England, or the one nation of
Russia, and may become citizens or parts of the

24 A LENT IN LONDON.

State polity of either ; so by baptism the same men are
made natives or citizens of a catholic commonwealth,
a universal human State, city, or polity. Men, women,
and children subject to the law of England thereby
become fellow-citizens of the saints in Russia, Italy,
and Spain — witnesses to the unseen King and Re-
deemer of all mankind. All these various and un-
like persons, Jew or Greek, bond or free, male or
female, impotent or wholesome, as the Apostle of
Nations said to the Galatians, are actually constituted
by the common christening into one body, one polity,
one commonwealth, one Christianity, one Church,
into whatever contrary sects or parties they may be
dividing themselves. " The Church " has this in-
destructible affinity with the State, as Richard
Hooker said to Archbishop Whitgift, that she " is a
city (civitds)) a state, a commonwealth ; yea, something
more than ' a city/ for she is the city of the great
King ; and the life of a city is polity? Hence, as he
shows, comes her inherent sympathy with whatever
is " political." But she is the one commonwealth of
world-wide extent. Hence every English parish joins
itself by its own congregational Te Deum in the
common worship of "the Holy Church throughout
all the world." Hence, too, the pastor of every Eng-
lish parish is intentionally ordained not as the mere
priest of a Church of England, as the Liberationists
and Erastians fancy, but as " a priest of the Church of
God," and so is he established in an "office" with which
no one State on earth may dare to interfere. The
Church in all the nations is one, and only one. It
is as impossible for there to be two, or three, or a
hundred " Churches," as it is for there to be two, or
three, or a hundred baptisms ; or to be two, or three,
or a hundred Christs ; or two, or three, or a hundred
Gods. This catholic or human-universal constituency
of the Church is one reason why " the political office

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. 25

of the Church," in every nation, must be something
altogether unlike any other political force within that
nation.

Other reasons, of course, there are for the distinctive
character of " the political office of the Church " in
each of the nations, which for time's sake I must
omit. Yet one of these so often confronts us in our
political life that I ought not to leave it unmentioned ;
I mean the moral contrast between the laws of Christ's
commonwealth and the laws of any and every State
in which it is established, or is seeking to establish
itself. Where the State says to the citizen, " Thou
shalt do no murder," the Church says to the same
citizen what the Parliament dares not say : " He that
hateth his brother is a murderer ; " " Thou shalt love
thy neighbour as thyself." The Church, as "the
mother of us all," is the mediator and advocate for the
human, humane, equal, or universal rights of the free
citizen and of the slave, the native and the foreigner ;
she is the divinely established and divinely endowed
representative, within every State, of the rights of
man as man, and of that entire humanity whereof
every State is but a fragment.

What ought we, as citizens of Christ's society, to
mean by " office " ? Surely we must mean that
which we are all obliged to understand by it, often
disagreeably enough, in daily life. " Office ;J is an
obligation, duty, or debt which is peculiar to us, for
which we are personally qualified, or are taken to be
qualified ; and it is a debt which is so binding upon
us, that we ought not to shuffle it off upon another
who does not owe this debt. The " political office "
of the Church must therefore be such duty or duties
as the Church owes to political life, which the Church
is peculiarly called and qualified to render, and which
no proxy or substitute for the Church can properly
do in her stead. " I am debtor," said the Apostle of

26 A LENT IN LONDON.

States to the Church of Rome, " both to the Greeks
and the Barbarians ; both to the wise and to the

unwise."

But I am restricted by the title to "political"
office. Wise men have disagreed over the question
whether the quality " political " belongs rightly to
an art or a science. Perhaps we may say that politics
is both the science and the art of a righteous common
life in the city, state, nation, or fatherland of which
the Father of all has made us to be members ; and
so includes alike the true doctrine of nationality and
of citizenship, and the just conduct of natives and of
citizens. The political science of the Church is in
the common or catholic dogma and creed which St.
Peter here recited to the rulers of his people. The
political art of the Church is the practical application
of all the articles of this creed to the education, libera-
tion, salvation, healing, or making whole of the " im-
potent," the suffering, desolate, and oppressed amongst
our neighbours and fellow-citizens who are of the
same body with ourselves in the same national
commonwealth.

By "political" we mostly mean "national." In
the most important province of politics, the social,
where we English use the Greek adjective "political,"
the Germans and Italians use the Roman adjective
" national." We speak of " political economy,"
they of " national-okonomie " and " economia nation-
ale : " but we mean the same thing. The politics
of the state or nation deals with that which is
national ; or if it deals with international or uni-
versal human concerns, it is principally when poli-
ticians and newspapers think that they affect the
nation. But it is the office of the Church, in every
nation, to deal with that which is universal, human,
or humane, or that which belongs to man as man.
So it is part of her political office, in every nation, to

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. 27

represent not only all the unrepresented and the mis-
represented, the desolate and oppressed, the outcasts
of that nation, but also even the outlandish — the men,
women, and children of other nations. When I say
this is the office of the Church, I mean it is the office
and obligation of each English citizen, who is also a
citizen of Christ's catholic commonwealth. It is this
that justifies Englishmen in clamouring for the salva-
tion of the " impotent " Armenians.

You will see, I hope, how the political science
of the Church and the political art and office
of the Church were combined in the very earliest
political experience of the universal ecclesiastical
community. One lame citizen is brought before
us in the text. This one impotent beggar, in the
belief of St. Peter and St. John, the two bishops of
the Church, as they are going up to the common
worship in the great national cathedral, becomes the
foremost and most important of all their fellow-
citizens. They do not ask him whether he is a
Christian, a member of Christ's new universal common-
wealth. But in the name and power of Jesus Christ,
the universal-human King and Saviour, Whose legates
they are, they exercise their " political office " by
saving or making whole this miserable beggar, their
fellow-citizen in the secular Jerusalem. They assert
that supernatural alliance between Christ's Church
and the national State which Parliaments can never
disestablish ; and they declare what sort of men
ought to be the first and foremost care of the political
commonwealth, because such are the first and fore-
most care of Him Who only can be called " the Man."
Before His throne all " nations'' now stand gathered,
and to Him each secular State, as well as His own
Church, is subject as its Judge, and it is held by Him
responsible, as He had told His Apostles a few days
before His execution, for its conduct to every hungry,

28 A LENT IN LONDON.

thirsty, naked, foreign, sick, imprisoned, or other im-
potent person within its jurisdiction.

Everything in these first chapters of the Acts of the
Apostles, at the beginning of the office of the Church
in the State of Jewry, seems to me to be " political."
These rulers who laid hands on the Apostles, and put
them in hold until the next day, examined the
bishops of the Church on the morrow as political
offenders. The rulers were mostly " Sadducees," as the
historian reminds us, such as would now think them-
selves the advanced, critical, anti-dogmatic, rational,
enlightened class of the nation. These were the
rulers who had politically said, " We have no king but
Caesar." They had already put the Head of the
Church to death, not only for blasphemy in making
Himself to be the Son of God in some sense in
which no other man can be, but for " political " crime
in making Himself to be a King ; yea, the King of
truth and conscience, which must imply a universal-
human kingdom, to which every politician as well as
every ecclesiastic is subject. To this King, to His
kingdom, the Apostles were to be " witnesses." This
was their " political office," as it is still of the Church
after them. So Jesus said and says, "Ye shall be wit-
nesses unto Me." The Book of the Acts is the first
Church newspaper. It relates how these rulers who
said, " We have no king but Caesar," and how the poli-
tical majority which had heaped its votes uponBarabbas
— which had disestablished Jesus of His kingdom
and disendowed Him of His life — are now suddenly
confronted by Christ's universal society. These Jews
and Greeks, and folk of all Nations, agree in declaring
Christ to be risen, ascended, and sitting at the
Father's right hand as " the Prince and Saviour," the
Champion and the " Maker-whole " of the impotent,
miserable, oppressed, and sinful members of the
secular commonwealth, which can never be more

THE POLITICAL OFFICE OF THE CHURCH. 29

than the caricature of a real commonwealth so long
as it contains any miserable and wicked members,
or until Christ Jesus is so owned and obeyed as its
King, that all in it are made whole. " Be it known
unto you all " — ye rulers of the people and elders of
Israel — "and to all the people of Israel, that by the
Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, Whom ye crucified'*
—ye prime ministers and chancellors by your sinister
party-policy, and ye majority of the people by your
blind ungodly votes — " Whom God raised from the
dead, even by Him doth this man " — a mere beggar
in your streets, the characteristic product of your
kind of ruling and of voting—" stand here before you
whole. This is the Stone Which was set at nought
of you builders " — of a shoddy Babylon — " Which is
become the Head-stone of the corner. Neither is
there salvation in any other: for there is none
other name under heaven given among men, where-
by we must be saved" Possibly these politicians of
Jewry would have told the man, as our rich place-
mongers and politicians have lately been telling
the poor parish priests of Christ in Wales, that a
beggarly condition is helpful to " spirituality," and
that a man may travel more quickly to their Elysium
if he be made " impotent," whether by the sins of
society or its parliaments.

It is perhaps worth observing that St. Peter's
political sermon to the rulers and citizens of Jewry
is cited in the eighteenth Article of Religion, " Of
obtaining eternal salvation only by the Name of
Christ." Now, St. Peter uses one and the same verb
(<roi£w) for the making whole of the lame beggar and
for the salvation of the entire human race. But whilst
our translators have rendered it as " made whole " in
Acts iv. 9, where the Apostle applies it to the personal
salvation of his wretched fellow-citizen from lame-
ness, they have rendered it as "saved" in ver. 12,

30 A LENT IN LONDON.

where the Apostle applies it to the social entirety of
mankind " under heaven " — that is, to every man in
every nook and corner of every polity on the earth.
So that our English Bible has omitted that very point
which St. Peter emphasizes in his political sermon
to the politicians and people of his city. For the
Apostle preached the inseparable oneness of secular
and " eternal salvation " in the one Saviour of body,
soul, and spirit.

THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE.

BY THE

REV. R. R. DOLLING,

Winchester College Mission.

"THERE is a Church question to-day. Something
wants doing." I would thus venture to translate
Prince Bismarck's famous words. The very fact that
I am asked to speak upon the question of Town
Missions, and that one of the Church papers has for
the last six or seven weeks delivered itself over to
the discussion of the question, " Why don't working
men come to Church?" surely proves conclusively
that something wants doing.

For the last eighteen years of my life I have
lived amongst working men, the vast majority of
whom are altogether untouched by the Church of
England. Working as a layman, I saw this more
plainly than I do to-day, though I have tried, even
after I was ordained, to preserve my common
sense. When I was ordained, I was sent by Bishop
How to a district containing seven thousand people
in the East End of London. I don't believe that
twenty-five of these were influenced by the Church
of England. Nine years ago I took charge of my
present district in Landport. It contains between
five and six thousand people. Dr. Linklater had
had charge of it for two years. When he came there
were not five communicants living in it. Nor is this

32 A LENT IN LONDON.

to be wondered at. The parish from which it is
taken contained twenty-three thousand people, and
was worked by a vicar and a curate. I thank God
there were five active centres of Dissenting worship
in my own district alone. In the county of Hamp-
shire there are practically three great towns. Win-
chester, with a population of over nineteen thousand,
has twelve beneficed clergy, dean, archdeacons,
canons, minor canons, etc. ; Southampton, with a
population over sixty-five thousand, has fifteen bene-
ficed clergy ; Portsmouth, with a population of over
one hundred and fifty-nine thousand, has sixteen
beneficed clergy. Canon Jacob in Portsmouth, with
splendid self-denial, keeps nine curates ; but there are
few Canon Jacobs in the Church of England. The
real difficulty is that those in authority know nothing
about it. Bishops give timely notice before they
visit parishes, and generally see things through the
spectacles of the clergyman or of the ecclesiastical
layman — generally a much more ecclesiastical person
than the clergyman himself. If they want to know
the real truth, let them get a census made of the
male communicants. It is far wiser to know your
weakness than to know your strength.

Many believe that increase of population will
explain our present failure. But did you ever know
a new district springing up without some Dissenting
worship being offered to the people ? I don't believe
it is a want of liberality on the part of Church-
people that prevents the Church of England doing
the same. It is the red tape of the ecclesiastical
commissioners, and the freehold of the parochial
clergy. But even in places where there has been
no increase of population — the large mother parishes
of London, and little village churches where for
the last thousand years there have been priests
and sacraments — what is the proportion of regular

THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. 33

communicants? Don't think for a moment that I
mean to say that the working man of England has
lost his respect for religion. I read in a French
author once, " You in England have two sacraments,
the Bible and Sunday. You retain them both. We
had seven, and have well-nigh lost them all." I would
to God that I could impress upon you how much the
maintenance of this respect for religion has depended
on our English Bible and our English Sunday. Let
us be very cautious before we dare, by act or word, to
weaken their influence. Don't let us be ashamed to
confess what we owe to the splendid work of the
Dissenters. It makes me oftentimes sick at heart
to hear the way in which the newly ordained, strong
in the orthodoxy of his High-Church collar, and of his
grasp of doctrine, speaks of these class-leaders at
whose feet he is unworthy to sit. And yet, thankful
as we are to God for the self-denying and consistent
witness that they have borne to Jesus, a present
Saviour, we cannot but recognize that without the
Church men cannot be perfected. The Church has
lost its hold on them, and they have lost their hold
on the supernatural. The Reformation in England,
the work of the king and the aristocracy, never really
touched the common people ; and because it lacked a
popular element, lost its democratic side, the chief
power in the Catholic Church for revolutionizing the
world. The parish became the property of the in-
cumbent, the diocese of the bishop. You remember
the story of the wife of an established minister in
Scotland remonstrating with her husband when she
saw all the people crowding into the Free Church, and
his answer, " He, my dear, may get the people, but
I have got the tithes in my pocket." The incomes
given in pre-Reformation times partly for services now
discontinued, or only now just being gradually re-
stored, and partly for the good of the poor, their

D

34 A LENT IN LONDON.

education and their needs, the clergyman being then
the only man of light and of learning, has become
now the prey of his wife and his sons and daughters,
enabling them to be educated like ladies and gentle-
men, and to take their part in upper-class society.
Not only is the money their prey, but oftentimes the
management of the parish as well. Do you think
that you will get working men, or any other men,
interested in that in which they have neither part nor
lot? Practically the clergyman is forced upon the
parish, and in turn enforces his own methods, per-
chance even those of a Low-Church wife or of a
Ritualistic daughter. Does vicaress spell " vicarious " ?
And there are far graver scandals than this. Men
perfectly incompetent through age and illness must
linger on because, forsooth, of their families. Every
one pities them ; but, for God's sake, let us pity them
out of our own pockets, and not out of God's tithe.
Sometimes it is the clergyman who is really to be
pitied : he would do anything he could to touch the
people ; but how can he, seeing he has never learnt ?
A public school, a university, does not train a man to
understand artisans or farm-labourers. Five per cent,
of his parishioners, his equals, he does understand ;
fifteen per cent., those hungering after gentility, he
may guess at ; the eighty per cent, he is practically
hopeless with. Then he is bound to consider the
feelings of those with whom he mixes most freely,
who support his charities, and very likely with many
true kindnesses help himself. There is a deeper
meaning in St. James's scathing words than the
actual localities mentioned.

And then the terrible difficulty of the Book of
Common Prayer, containing as it does but one
popular service ; the administration of the Holy
Communion, which has been till quite lately reserved
for a few of the elect, shorn of all the assistance

. THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. 35

which music might have rendered to make it
understanded, with no dignity or glory about the
rendering of it, frigid simplicity according to the mind
of the Church of England falsely interpreted ; Morn-
ing and Evening Prayer, at best services for clerics or
for the really spiritually instructed, full of difficulties,
full of perplexities. Is it any wonder that men pre-
ferred the warm and loving and personal worship that
they found in the chapel ? Is it so long ago since
many dignified clergymen believed that the chapel
was really more suitable for common people? And
if the Church of England suited the working man so
badly in ecclesiastical matters, did her attitude on
social questions suit him better ? You have been told
how largely the very roads and bridges, the art and
education of England, were due to the clergy ; that
liberty in England is due to the undauntedness of
bishops ; that the history of the Church of England is
" a progressive tale of the upward march of men." I
am constrained to believe this because of the authority
of him who said it. But in all earnestness I pray you
ask yourselves, are there ten working men in England
that believe it ? Perhaps you will answer back to me,
" All this can be reformed/' A free Church can re-
form herself, a fettered Church never. And if your
heart is aflame to defend the Church of England,
first, at any rate, see that you cleanse her. And you
will never do this until you have the courage not only
to think, but to speak, the truth about her ; to put
away from ourselves all tall talk, and in a spirit of true
and real humility begin by confessing where we fail.

Let those in authority put the question to the test ;
let them through Convocation propose the needed
reforms ; and if our Establishment forbids us to
reform, let us burst our bonds, and set ourselves free.
And now I believe that the missions in the Church
of England are practically doing this very thing.

36 A LENT IN LONDON.

They are indoctrinating the minds of the younger
clergy with the spirit of divine discontent with their
methods and themselves. Just as from the slums of
Holborn and of London Docks the restoration of the
beauty of worship arose, which, attracting the multi-
tude, has re-enthroned the Sacraments in the hearts
of understanding and intelligent worshippers, the life
of poverty and degradation, of meanness, of utter
want, which those pioneers in mission work shared
with their people, and by the sharing enabled them
so to understand their minds, their longings, their
desires, as to translate into a language which they
could understand the Catholic learning of Oxford
schoolmen ; so to-day it is the contact with the
suffering and degraded and impoverished that enables
men to translate into actual amelioration the theories
and statistics which Oxford and Cambridge Christian
Socialists have, at the cost of so much toil, evolved.

Splendid as the individual and personal work is of
so many of our present missions, yet their actual
achievements are as nothing compared with their
power as centres of education. They are the leaven
which little by little is leavening the whole lump of
the Church of England. And if I might venture to
suggest, like all true educational centres, they make
terrible demands on the teacher. If to go down and
stay at the Oxford House is merely a fashion, an
interesting way to spend a few weeks in the year, or
if men from the universities or public schools for
change do a little slumming as fashionable women
did ten years ago, the use of missions will soon cease.
It is the enduring of hardness, it is sharing the life,
as far as possible the very food, the understanding
of the thoughts, the realizing of the difficulties, the
carrying away out of sight poverty which degrades
men and women made in the image of God, a dis-
content with the luxury, the "needed comfort" as

THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE. 37

it is called of modern life, that will create amongst
the educated classes a true enthusiasm for the right-
ing of wrongs that cry out continually into the ears
of the Lord God of Sabaoth — for which, if we do not
repent of them, England's Church, at any rate,
because she has not dared to speak out the truth,
must expect her punishment. And for those of you
who cannot from circumstances take part in this
actual work, do not let other burdens besides that
of personal suffering and labour fall on those who
are doing this work for you. It is possible, by
denying yourselves — and surely this season of Lent
speaks of that — to remove in a large measure one of
the most wearying of these burdens. During the
ten years in which I have been privileged to conduct
missions I calculate that I have spent at least eight
hours a week in begging. It would be perfectly
possible for the congregation that hears me to-day
to relieve me of this. Let each one of us put it to
our own conscience, whether we are doing our duty
towards Almighty God and our fellow-Christians in
this respect.

PART II.
OUR BROTHER MEN.

PARTY POLITICS.

BY THE

REV. WILFRID RICHMOND, M.A.
" Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth." — I COR. viii. I.

A POLITICAL leader, alluding to the subject only by
way of illustration in the course of a philosophical
treatise, has recently made use of words minimizing
the part played by political discussion and political
measures in the furtherance of the interests of society.
" We perceive," he said, " that they supply business
to the practical politician, raw material to the political
theorist ; and we forget, amid the buzzing of debate,
the multitude of incomparably more important pro-
cesses by whose undesigned co-operation alone the
life and growth of the state is rendered possible."

Such language suggests, though it cannot be said
to commend, a separation, if not a divorce, of social
progress from political activity. Social reformers on
their side are inclined to protest that in the strife of
political parties social questions are neglected. Plain
men, not committed to any party allegiance or to the
advocacy of any special measures of social reform,
are apt, with something of the same feeling, to cry,
" A plague o' both your houses ! " And it must be
confessed that it needs something of an effort to view
political life as what it is, a branch of our general
social life, subject to the same social principles as the
rest, and that means, for a Christian, to Christian

42 A LENT IN LONDON.

principles. To put it baldly, it sounds like a fatal
combination of truism and paradox to say that party
politics should be governed by the principles of
Christian chanty.

And yet a suggestive parallel may perhaps be
drawn between the evils of party strife in politics
and in religion. The need for religious toleration is
often enforced by men of the world. Is there no
need for political toleration ? Religious people of
various sects and parties are told to dwell on their
points of agreement rather than on their points of
difference. Do politicians never forget that they
have a common end in view ? We are told that we
waste our forces in internecine warfare, when we
might combine them against the common foe. Both
parties in politics are at least acczised of obstruction,
and their combinations for a common object are
notable and fruitful, but comparatively rare. The
man of the world, as a spectator of religious divisions,
expresses surprise at a disunion so inconsistent with
the Christian profession. Have we no common
political ideal ? Might not an observant foreign
admirer of our self-governing constitution express a
little surprise, that so much of our force is spent on
preventing the machinery of self-government from
producing its normal and natural result. Theological
hatred is a byword ; but if I were in the company of
a man who differed from me both in theology and in
politics, I think I had rather, for the sake of charity,
that the conversation turned to the subject of my
deepest religious beliefs than to even the personal
character of my political leaders. Would you not
say yourself that you had more often offended the
political susceptibilities of your friends than the
religious prejudices of those to whom you are most
opposed ? " The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity."
Where is that so true as in politics ? Our political

PARTY POLITICS. 43

intercourse is poisoned by political abuse. It is not our
political leaders who are the most to blame. Leaders
might be named on either side who seldom add un-
necessary bitterness to necessary strife. It is we, the
rank and file, who afford the best example of the
party spirit which is the exact antithesis of charity —
the spirit which does vaunt itself, and is puffed up,
and does behave itself unseemly, and does seek its
own, and is easily provoked, and thinks all the evil
it can, and does rejoice in iniquity far more, it must
be confessed, than it rejoices in the truth. Sometimes,
it is true, our leaders play to the gallery ; but we are
the gallery, and if they are to catch from us the
spirit in which they are to play their part, it is from
those who express their appreciative criticism of the
political drama by utterances that might perhaps be
less mischievous if they were even more inarticulate,
but whose worst mischief is in their tone — rancous,
reckless, sibilant.

And if we were challenged on the matter, I suppose
we should be inclined to plead in self-defence the
strength of our political convictions. " Perhaps/' a
man might say, " I have no right to dogmatize as
to the motives of such or such a political leader, but
at least I know that the policy he pursues is fatal to
the interests of the state and of society." " I know "
—that is just where St. Paul strikes in with his dictum
to religious partisans. We know ? " We know that
we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffeth up, but
charity edifieth."

Observe what is the line St. Paul takes.

There is a division in the Church on a very
arguable point. The heathen feasted on meat that
had been offered to idols. One party among the
Christians said, " If you eat the meat that has been
offered to idols, you are a sharer in the idolatrous
worship." Another party said, " We don't believe in

44 A LENT IN LONDON.

idols. An idol is nothing. The meat is neither the
better nor the worse for being offered before an idol.
To treat it as though it were is to appear to give a
reality to the idol."

Now, St. Paul does not say, " Both parties are partly
in the wrong. The truth lies between you. Don't
be one-sided." He does not say, " Your dispute is all
about nothing. The point at issue is altogether un-
important. There should be no division on the matter
at all." He does not say, " You are both altogether on
the wrong tack. Here is the true way to look at the
matter." He takes a side. He starts by saying to
one party, " On the point at issue you are altogether
in the right. An idol is nothing at all. And meat
offered before an idol is neither the better nor the
worse." And then — does he turn to the other party
in the dispute and say, " Why do you disturb the
peace of the Church ? Why do you set yourselves
against a principle so obviously true ? " Not a bit of
it. He turns upon his own side and says, " You are
guilty of the evils of party division. You are right ?
Certainly it is obvious enough. You know ? As to
knowing — we all feel like that. * We know that we
all have knowledge.' You are perfectly convinced
that you are right ? Exactly. ' Knowledge puffeth
up.' Your knowledge, your strong conviction, your
unerring and correct judgment on the question of
principle, is of no use, confers no practical benefit
on the society to which you belong, unless it is in-
spired and used by charity. You with your know-
ledge have to play your part in the construction, in
the building up, of a spiritual society. In this social
construction being perfectly right is not the con-
structive force. In and by itself it is of no use ; it
issues only in your dwelling with complacency on
your own unerring wisdom. There is only one con-
structive principle — the principle of love."

PARTY POLITICS. 45

That is a little vague. Let us follow the guidance
of St. Paul's treatment of religious partisanship and
see what it means.

Does it mean, Don't let us have any parties ?
Sometimes you hear people say, " If we could only
do without parties and all agree ! " St. Paul's treat-
ment of the matter does not point in the direction
of an ideal state, which would pass an act of political
uniformity, and have thirty-nine articles of political
belief and no dissenters. Nor does St. Paul seem to
say, " Why must you be ranged into parties ? Why
not let each man judge for himself, and take each
question on its merits as it comes ? " He lends no
support to any such ideal of political atomism.

So far St. Paul's teaching harmonizes with our
accepted political doctrine. Political parties come,
we should say, from two main causes. There are at
least two sides to any practical question, and what
Burke called the great leading general principles in
government, to which the consideration of any par-
ticular question will naturally be referred, lead the
individual man to approach the particular question
in the first instance from one side rather than the
other. On the other hand, corporate action is stronger
than individual action, and we are naturally led to
associate ourselves with those on one side or the other
with whom we are bound to find that we agree.
Party is a body of men for promoting by their joint
endeavours the national interest upon some particular
principle upon which they are all agreed. A bureau-
cracy would eliminate partisanship in politics, but it
would do so at the cost of a complete suppression
of that individual liberty of opinion with which party
allegiance is supposed to interfere. And individual
self-interest, now educated and disciplined by party
allegiance, that is, by subordination to the interest
of common principles of public policy, would seek

46 A LENT IN LONDON.

the ends of individual self-interest alone. The exist-
ence of parties, bodies of divergent opinion, we need
not deplore in politics any more than St. Paul did
in religion. They are to be used for the attainment
and realization of an adequate political ideal ; only
charity is the force to use them.

Nor, again, does St. Paul's charity say to us, " There
must be parties, it is true, but keep clear of them.
See the good on both sides, but don't belong to
either." Rather he seems to say, " Choose your side
on a clear ground of principle, and declare yourself.
Only," he adds, " remember it is not the clear grasp
of principle that does the work of life. To begin with,
you must be a partisan ; but you must be more.
'Charity edifieth.' Charity is the practically con-
structive principle."

There are two ways of picturing the aim, the ideal
result, of party conflict. According to one ideal, what
each party would aim at would be gradually to
permeate the other — to pervade it, to include and
comprehend it. Where political discussion is most
fruitful, this is, in fact, the kind of result that comes
about. According to the other ideal, each party
should aim at neutralizing the efforts of the other,
preventing them from accomplishing their ends.
Religious divisions are sometimes said to neutralize
in this way the efforts of religious activity, and it
must be confessed that to this ideal political life
seems sometimes to approximate. Charity in this
sense is no more than a sympathetic endeavour to
understand the mind of your opponent, and, while
the opposition between you remains, to give effect to
all that you can appreciate as practicable and true
in his ideal. A very commonplace form of chanty,
no doubt, but a virtue not only of incalculable prac-
tical value, but of incalculable moral worth in the
eyes of those who believe that God's work can only
be done in God's way.

PARTY POLITICS. 47

But charity " edifieth," is a constructive power, not
only as the inspiration of practical effective work, but
as the influence which forwards the interests of the
truth. We look back with horror and wonder to the
days when the principle of persecuting your religious
opponents was recognized by the professors of nearly
all religious creeds. Sometimes one is inclined to
doubt whether the evil spirit of persecution, exorcised
from the soul of the religious enthusiast, has not found
for itself a home swept and garnished in the mind
of the political partisan ; whether he does not need to
be reminded that you can't compel political orthodoxy,
or suppress the element of truth which must surely
lie concealed in the worst heresies of your political
opponents. In politics no less than in religion, truth
is the possession not of the individual but of the
society, and of the individual only as a member of
the society. If you recklessly disregard your neigh-
bour's conviction, you not only fail to forward the
interests of the conviction you profess ; you insensibly
dwarf your own mind and contract your own intel-
lectual sympathies. The enlightened Corinthian who
shared St. Paul's freedom from superstition as to
meat offered to idols had an alternative of this kind
before him. His opponent was rightly and con-
scientiously anxious to be free from any complicity
with idolatrous worship. This loyal devotion was
theoretically approved by the opposite party. But
this theoretical approval might die down into a very
shadowy kind of belief, if he declined to give prac-
tical effect to the sympathy he professed to feel ; or
it might be deepened into a strong practical con-
viction, influential in other spheres of Christian life—
as, for instance, in inspiring a loyal adherence to that
moral ideal of the gospel which made the Christian
separate himself from the vices of the Gentile world,
and saved him from being " unequally yoked together

48 A LENT IN LONDON.

with unbelievers." If we look back in political history,
we may be able to say at any time since the Petitioners
and Abhorrers of Charles II.'s time first gained the
nicknames of Whig and Tory, that at such and such
a juncture our sympathies would go with this party
or with that. But we should generally be disposed
to allow the truths for which I plead — that the party
with which we should not sympathize had some
truth to maintain, some danger to avert ; that where
from any cause the results of mutual sympathy and
mutual appreciation were realized, there more good
was done, less evil left to be undone ; and that
where any party behaved as if the differences of
party were as the differences of light from darkness,
justifying a kind of proscription of political principles,
there some truth suppressed revenged itself with all
the greater force on those who had presumed to
pose as the masters, not the servants, of the truth.
Take your side. Maintain its principles. Uphold
your political ideal as you see it. But remember
that you do not see all, and that your political
ideal, as it really is, as you would see it now if your
vision were wide enough, is not likely to be realized
solely by the efforts of that section of the population
who support your own party, and without any con-
tributory share on the part of that nearly equal
section of the population who are politically your
opponents.

But, above all, charity " edifieth," charity is a con-
structive force in politics in the sense that the spirit
of charity, as the spirit of practical sympathy and
appreciation toward your opponents, and as the spirit
of genuine political toleration towards your oppo-
nents' views, helps to build up in the mind and heart
of the people whom politicians serve, the one com-
manding political ideal of a social life governed
throughout by the principle of mutual help. Such

PARTY POLITICS. 49

an ideal may shadow itself out to us in very different
shapes according to our political attachments. Such
an ideal may be as distant from the realities of
political life as the ideal of your own individual con-
science is from the realities of your own individual
conduct. But in the social as in the individual
conscience the saving fact is that the ideal is there.
The common end is paramount. And if we can
agree on no common formula for describing it, if we
can agree as to scarcely an outline here and there in
the delineation of our hope, it is no mere empty ideal,
if it dictates the method and the means of political
action, if it governs the otherwise ungoverned tongue,
if it gives chivalry and courtesy to the combatants,
and to the victor that generosity which saves the van-
quished from humiliation, if through the spirit thus
diffused it makes victor and vanquished feel them-
selves to be after all and above all fellow-workers
with one another, fellow-workers with God.

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM.

BY THE

REV. H. RUSSELL WAKEFIELD, M.A.,
Rector of St. Mary's, Bryanston Square.

IF this were not one of a special course of addresses
on social subjects, there would be two kinds of
Christian patriotism which one would ask you to
think of to-day. The first of these is the duty which
the devoted Christian adherent owes to his creed,
the second is the obligation resting upon all followers
of Jesus Christ to take a keen interest in the general
well-being of the land of their birth and early train-
ing. I only refer to the first of these for the purpose
of reminding you of its importance; but I believe
that, in view of the objects of these sermons, it is
to the second I should direct your attention this
morning.

What is the view of the faith of Jesus as to the
duty of a patriot? Are we encouraged by our
Master to have a special love for, and to be prepared
to suffer in the cause of, our country? The reply
would be a determined affirmative if we had only the
pages of the Old Testament to go to for guidance.
It is evident that the Jewish people were under the
particular care of the Almighty, and that of them
He expected a peculiar service. It is, of course, not
possible for us to get out of the realm of human
argument, but with this reservation one may say that

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 51

God looked upon the land of Israel as the source
whence all good was to flow throughout the world.
It was to Israel that special revelations were given ;
the experiences undergone by the chosen race had
all of them for intention the training of the people
for their high responsibilities ; out of Israel was to
come the One Who was to give to the whole world
a new idea of life. If even to-day we find the Jew
to be one who is distinct from all men, mainly on
account of his own desire for isolation, because of his
belief in the peculiar privileges of his own land and
his own race ; if, in fact, he is in some respects the
most patriotic of men, it is not to be wondered at
when we remember the emphatic utterances of law-
giver and prophet of old time. Turning next to the
life of Jesus Christ, we notice an equal devotion to
His land and to His countrymen, tinged though it
be with signs of His disappointment at the failure of
the Jew to accomplish the purpose of the Father.
Is it not a Patriot of Whom we read that " when He
was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over
it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least
in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy
peace ! but now they are hid from thine eyes " ? 1 Is
there not deep love of country in the cry, " O Jeru-
salem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and
stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often
would I have gathered thy children together, even
as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and
ye would not " ? 2 It is a disappointed Patriot Who,
when He finds a stranger ready to recognize in the
Man of sorrows the Conqueror of disease and death,
exclaims, " I have not found so great faith, no, not in
Israel"* In all the labour of Jesus Christ there
seems to be a yearning desire that the Jewish people
should be His fellow-workers, and it is only when

1 Luke xix. 41. 2 Matt, xxiii. 37. 3 Matt. viii. 10.

52 A LENT IN LONDON.

He finds them determinedly opposed to Him that
He goes to the Gentiles. It is hardly too much to
say that we have evidence of the longing of the
Founder of our faith that those of His own nation
should be the missioners to the outside world. Few
sharper pangs can have been felt by our Master than
that one, to which the prophet had beforehand
testified as one of the sufferings of the Messiah :
" We hid as it were our faces from Him ; He was
despised, and we esteemed Him not ; " l and to which
reference is made by St. John in the first chapter of
his Gospel, " He came unto His own, and His own
received Him not."

Admitting, then, that by word and act our Lord
encourages the love of the native land, let us try to
realize the meaning of the word " patriot." In order
satisfactorily to do this we must begin by getting a
clear notion as to what constitutes a nation. It is
not a collection of people living in the same country,
whose only uniting link is force, though that force
may be exercised over all by one supreme ruler.
We can define a nation as the abode of people held
together by mutual consent in a social confederacy,
which is based upon the general good and common
interest.

"What constitutes a State?
Not high-raised battlements or labour'd mound,

Thick wall or moated gate ;
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd ;

Not bays and broad-arm'd ports.
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ;

Not starr'd and spangled courts,
Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride.

No : men, high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ;

Men who their duties know,

1 Isa. liii. '?.

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 53

But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain ;

Prevent the long-aim'd blow,
And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain ; —

These constitute a State." l

Each individual has the duty placed upon him of
doing his part, suffering his share for the promotion
of the best benefit of the general number. In so
far as he fails in this, so far does he fall short of
being a true patriot ; the greater his self-sacrifice,
the more worthy he is of being numbered amongst
the lovers of his native land. The patriot is one to
whom sahis reipublicce is indeed suprema lex. We
have in Christ an example of what may be the fate
of one prepared to surrender all for his country ; we
have also in Christ a proof of how much blessing
may come to the general mass by individual self-
sacrifice. God has implanted in our hearts a love of
our fatherland, a love often not realized until absence
from home has made us long for our return. It is
when away from England that we feel most strongly
the meaning of such lines as those of Clough —

"Dear home in England, safe and fast,
If but in thee my lot lie cast,
The past shall seem a nothing past
To thee, dear home, if won at last,
Dear home in England, won at last."

If it be true that in each of us there is a natural
love of our country, if this be encouraged by the
word and example of Jesus Christ, it is strange to
notice the indifferentism of the many to the general
good, and also the narrowness of some as to what
constitutes patriotism. Very few people, compara-
tively, allow their hearts to be moved by matters
outside their own immediate circle. They circum-
scribe what they consider their interests, so as only
to include persons and things which they must

1 Sir William Jones.

54 A LENT IN LONDON.

consider if they are not themselves to be sufferers.
Their business, their family, these make up their
life's care. To them the cry of the old heathen, " I
have not begotten thee, but for thy country's good,"
would appear meaningless. They consider that if
they keep their own doorstep clean, every one else
must do the same. The demands of country they
hold to be satisfied if they pay their rates and taxes,
and avoid breaches of the laws of their land. Such
an attitude would be inexcusable in one who had
never heard of Christ, and whose only notion of
nationality was founded on earthly ideas ; it is
doubly to be condemned in one who calls himself by
the name of Him Whose life was given up for the
purpose of making all mankind members of a great
self-sacrificing brotherhood. One cause of this in-
differentism may be the objection often taken to the
religious teachers of a land showing any care for
the polity of the nation. It is as important that the
pulpits of England should be used for the purpose
of stirring the sluggish citizenship of the people as
for moving to any other form of active service of
Christ. To omit the consideration of how it was for
His country's good that Christ gave Himself up, is
to neglect a valuable motive power for driving the
wheels of civic life. It is curious to notice that the
Jews crucified Jesus because He did not answer to
their conception of a patriot. They looked for one
who should head an army of deliverance from Roman
government ; to them there was no beauty in a Man
Who impressed upon His hearers the faithful per-
formance of the duties incumbent upon the members
of any organized society. The teacher of the religion
of Christ must to-day remind people that whilst their
personal conduct should be moulded upon the
teaching and example of Jesus, they must get out-
side their own little circle of interests, and must so

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 55

care for the well governing of their land that the
influence of Christianity may be a leaven working
in every department of national life. There is no
greater danger than indifferentism. In 1870 many of
the quieter and less self-seeking inhabitants of France
had given up the politics of their country in despair.
They looked out upon the land, and believing it to
be given over to luxury and the consequent evils,
tried, by abstaining from part or lot in the matter,
to wash their hands of the whole business. The
result is a matter of history. Those who saw some-
thing of the great war between Germany and France,
will acknowledge that the main factor in the over-
throw of the latter country was the fact that the
soldiers were led in many instances by men whose
patriotism had been sapped out of them by years of
self-indulgence. The neglect of their duty by many
of the better people left the management of affairs in
the hands of the less worthy. Government became
a chaos, and the battle-field a shambles.

One word as to the narrowness of view as to what
constitutes patriotism which is taken by some of the
more earnest people. It is a fact which can hardly
be questioned, that with some, care for the native
land is only active when there is some question
pending with another country. The man who would
readily sacrifice all for England in the time of war,
will often regard with indifference internal dangers
which threaten the well-being of the state. There
are those who will consider little the justice of their
country's cause when any dispute arises with another
nation. The physical force which can be brought
into action is with them the main consideration.
There is to them excellent morality in the saying
sometimes quoted, "My country at all times, my
country with a just cause if possible, but my country,
right or wrong''' But there is no true foreign policy

56 A LENT IN LONDON.

for any state which has not at its back the power of
Christ, and which cannot appeal to something higher
than the argument of force. It is, however, neces-
sary to realize that to manage our land so as to
make her an example in all that tends to civic
righteousness is the surest way to render her
influential beyond her borders ; that to prove her the
best governed, the most united of countries, is the
truest way of exhibiting to others her strength.
This widening of the idea of what is meant by
patriotism is not the least of the objects which
should be forwarded by every man who loves the
land whence he "derived his birth and infant
nurture."

It is well for us sometimes to bear this matter in
view even in regard to directly religious work. Here
in England we are very active in the development
of foreign mission work. Do we not, however, some-
times overlook the fact that the truest way by which
to spread Jesus Christ in other lands, is by showing
the influence which He has upon us at home ? If
every emigrant ship which sailed to distant ports,
every regiment of soldiers which was quartered on
the borders of semi-civilized districts, every band of
explorers which penetrated the recesses of savage
regions, carried the grace of God in their hearts, and
showed an example of wholesome, Christian living,
each of these would be a more potent evangelizing
force than the labour of the missionary, and would
certainly be also a most wonderful help to that
devoted worker in his not too encouraging task.

If this would be the case in directly religious effort,
how wonderfully it would affect all questions of social
reformation ! If every one felt that it was incumbent
upon him as a Christian to regard all in his land as
brothers for whom it would be a pleasure to suffer ;
if we all understood that for the true patriot every

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 57

social question should be a matter of keen interest,
what a fresh life would be breathed into the political
atmosphere of the land ! What a different effect
would be produced upon some of us by the head-
line in a paper, " Death through Starvation " ! It
would not matter to us then whether we could trace
to some weakness of the one dead, the gradual
sinking into poverty. To us the one thing present
would be the feeling that shame should cover the
face of a true patriot at the loss by such means of a
brother, one who with us could call England his
country. Think of some of the things which we
have to confess to be blots on our land, and which
should stop our boasting as we show the benighted
foreigner our signs of wealth. In 1894, twenty-six
per cent, of the deaths in London occurred in public
institutions. How far was this due to the over-
crowding of people in unhealthy dwellings, causing
an early passing to the hospital ? Was any of this
awful percentage the result of the pressure of poverty,
which sends one to the workhouse, another to the
asylum, a third, by its goading to crime, to the gaol ?
Think, again, of the case of the children. Of the
little ones born into this world, one in every five dies
in many parishes before the close of one year of life.
Three cases of suffocation of infants during sleep
were recorded in one week in a large London parish.
Look at the undersized men and women in some
parts of our metropolis. They speak to us of ill-fed
and ill-cared-for childhood. Does it not seem as if
the sixth commandment were still read by some
people —

" Thou shalt not kill, but need'st not strive
Officiously to keep alive " ?

Think, again, of the promotion of happiness in the
land. There are few more pathetic sights than one
which is to be seen in many a by-street and court

58 A LENT IN LONDON.

in London : an " organ-grinder " playing away, sur-
rounded by a number of badly clothed children,
dancing and enjoying themselves after their manner.
It is all they can have, and they make the most of
it. God gives them the power of being easily made
happy ; but how little man does in the matter ! Some
people require six months out of London — at the sea-
side now, on the Continent next, at a country house
afterwards. It is only because they do not think y
because they are not in the highest sense actively
patriotic, that they do not see to it that in some
modified way their happiness is shared by those
bound to them by the strong tie of national brother-
hood. The poor of London are being driven away
from the neighbourhoods where they work. They
are now obliged to live either terribly overcrowded
in particular districts, or else they must find a shelter
in some cheap suburb. It would not be all disadvan-
tageous that this disturbance should take place, if
the State took care that cheap and rapid communica-
tion should be ensured between the dwelling and the
workshop, if the children had good air to breathe,
and if the new home was one provided with reason-
able sanitary appliances. It rests as a responsibility
upon those for whom the poor have to toil, to see
that these matters are not neglected.

The patriot is one who will see to it that the
education of the children of the land is what Milton
calls " a complete and generous education, fitting a
man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously,
all the offices both public and private, of peace and
war." How seldom is the responsibility of citizenship
taught to the young of any station in life ! It cer-
tainly is a fact that there was greater emphasis laid
upon this part of life's duty by the old Greek philo-
sophers than by many present-day teachers. All
instruction under a truly patriotic system is bound to

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 59

have for its object the provision for every child of a
fair opportunity to become the best possible outcome
of the gifts bestowed upon him or her by Almighty
God. Where the individuality of one of our citizens
has not fair play afforded it, the State is probably the
poorer, and we have failed in the highest patriotism.

The patriot is one who will not primarily live for
his own advantage. His desire will not be to gain
ease for himself, but to secure happiness for his fellows.
The man who overreaches in competition, who succeeds
by cunning, may have what Bacon calls " crooked
wisdom ; " but he will leave his country not the better,
but the worse, for his having lived. Such men, indeed,
merit to be " unwept, unhonoured, and unsung." They
are festering sores, destructive of the true health of
any state. All that makes men to be estranged the
one from the other, that breeds suspicion, that causes
forgetfulness of national brotherhood, is hurtful to the
needs of the general number.

The patriot, again, is one who will be specially care-
ful of the interests of those who perform for the State
those duties which strictly belong to each one of us.
The soldier, the sailor, are prominent instances of the
class to which this applies, but there is no one who is
doing his work honestly and well, who is not in some
sense benefiting the whole land, and who is not a
vicarious labourer. We should, then, each one of us,
make a determined effort to lighten life's load the one
for the other. We have no business to put unnecessary
temptation in the way of those who work for us. The
provision of innumerable drinking-saloons, the foster-
ing of every kind of opportunity for gambling, these
are matters which call for State action. The latter of
these is, in the opinion of many, almost the most
serious danger menacing our land. Some doubt, and
that not without evidence of the truth of their view,
whether drunkenness is as great a curse, to the young

60 A LENT /A LONDON.

especially, as gambling. Would that we could pro-
vide some counteracting influence and interest for
those likely to come under its baneful power! In
all these directions true patriotism demands that
active interest shall be taken by the State, whilst
undue interference with individual liberty is avoided.
In fact, there is no matter affecting the general well-
being as to which the lover of his country will not be
on fire. If any one should fancy that the consequence
of this zeal for the good of the whole body would be
neglect of individual interests, our reply would be, that
the only true success in life is that which is achieved
by those who recognize their responsibility in regard
to others. Christ gave wholesome teaching when He
insisted that "whosoever will be great among you,
let him be your minister ; and whosoever will be chief
among you, let him be your servant;" and for all real
Christians there is a strong incentive to such a life in
the words, " Even as the Son of man came not to be
ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a
ransom for many." l If we look through the records
of past ages, if we think of those to whom are raised
enduring monuments, we find that the most lasting
success is that of self-sacrifice. True though it be
that there has not always been " selection of the
fittest" for honourable mention, still the desire has
generally been to commemorate the labours of those
who lived and died servants of their country. The
soldier, the sailor, the statesman, the physician, the
divine, the man of science, — these are the ones whom
we delight to honour, when we know that they
cared less to advance themselves than to bless their
country. So, then, the ambitious man can give nobility
to his natural desire to shine, by using his powers in
the service of his fellows. The greater our wealth, the
more influential our position, the higher our gifts, the

1 Matt. xx. 26-28.

CHRISTIAN PATRIOTISM. 61

more it is laid upon us to spend and be spent for
others. It is true that we must not confine our ideas
of service within the borders of our own land ; there is
a Christian patriotism which remembers the brother-
hood of man, and which knows no boundaries ; still
the first care must be in regard to that country in
which our lot is cast, and towards which our hearts
are most strongly drawn. If we are members of no
mean land, if we are citizens of a leading nation, the
more we assist in making it a happy and, in the best
sense, holy State, the better its influence upon the rest
of the human family.

It must not be forgotten that when lands have
fallen from their high position, it has been through
their degrading themselves, and becoming hurtful to
their own interests and to those of others. " The
kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and given
to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof." These
words tell us the same truth which experience teaches
to peoples as well as to individuals. Privilege involves
responsibility.

Glorious opportunities are before Englishmen to-
day. Our race is now more influential than ever
before in the history of the world. A new idea of
life and duty has arisen, and there is a place for
every one to fill. Let us each, in God's Name, do our
part, and then the time is not far distant when we
shall see our land not merely the richest, but the
brightest, the best, the freest, and consequently the
most Christian, in the world. So long as there is
one untended sick-bed, one unrelieved poor person,
one unavenged injustice, one preventible misery per-
mitted, there is work for us to do. What better lot
for any one of us than to give our lives in order that
the existence of our brothers, the lot of Englishmen,
may be the brighter for our self-sacrifice ? There was
gathered in the Temple of Theseus at Athens, during

62 A LENT IN LONDON.

the battle of Marathon, an anxious crowd of citizens,
who eagerly looked out towards that plain on which
was being decided the fate of the nation. Suddenly
a figure is seen approaching, and when he gets near
it is noticed that he is clothed as a warrior, and that
his steps are feeble. However, he climbs on, up the
hill on which the temple stands, and reaches the
entrance. Raising his hands aloft, he cries out to
the assembled multitude, " Victory, O Athenians ! "
and falls dead at their feet. The man's one desire
had been the safety of his land, and he died bringing
a message of comfort and success to his countrymen.
Be it ours, in our day and according to our opportu-
nities, to be messengers of brightness to our England ;
to delight to suffer for the land we love ; to assist in
winning to all that is true and godlike the men
and women who are bound to us by the holy tie
of national brotherhood. We may have an uphill
struggle ; we may be misunderstood ; we may seem
to fail ; we may have our trial before Pilate ; we may
have our Cross. But we know of what glory Calvary
is the antechamber ; and even if we did not, so long
as the world is the better for us, so long as the truth
prevails, who would stay to consider what he himself
might have to suffer ?

It is not the object of this address to suggest how
in matters of detail this conception of Christian
patriotism shall be carried into effect. Its purpose
will be attained if it stimulates the desire of but one
Englishman to devote himself to the service of his
country, and to help forward for humanity generally
that time when there shall be in all respects a
satisfying of the " armies of the homeless and unfed,"

" And liberated man,

All difference with his fellow-mortal closed,
Shall be left standing face to face with God."

PEACE AND WAR.

BY THE

REV. J. LLEWELYN DA VIES, D.D.

" If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all
men."— ROM. xii. 18.

THERE is a line in the " Faery Queen " in which
Spenser notes the unshrinking resolution with which
loving pity faces darkness, filth, and foul smells, in
setting itself to rescue a half-dead captive out of a
dungeon. "Entire affection," he says, "hateth nicer
hands " — hands, that is, too nice or fastidious to put
themselves to such work. Similarly, we are insisting
in some of these lectures, Whole-hearted Christianity
hateth nicer hands. There have been persons, even
divines of high reputation, to whom war has seemed
too repulsive a fact for Christianity to have anything
to do with. They have regarded wars between
nations as inevitable ; they have not been able to
understand how the course of the world could dis-
pense with them ; but war is so dreadful to Christian
feeling, that they have concluded that the only thing
for religion to do is to pass by on the other side.
To us the spirit of Christ is bearing witness that our
faith must not pass anything by on the other side.
The worst and most impracticable things in the
world are those which belief in Christ is specially
called to affront and to attack. We have no right
to turn away from blood and carnage, or to admit

64 A LENT IN LONDON.

that, if war is wrong from the Christian point of view,
it is to be allowed to go on. And though it may
seem honourable to the gospel to affirm that its
morality is peremptory and will have nothing to do
with compromises, we can see that the method of
Christ in His ruling of the world does not disdain
the partial remedying of evils, the gradual improve-
ment of human society.

I should be making but a futile use of the oppor-
tunity given me to-day, if I were to content myself
with repeating Christian commonplaces about peace
on earth and good will amongst men. It is the wish,
I am sure, of those who have organized these lectures
that the preachers should in all practical questions
come to the point. It is true that international
relations belong to " high politics ; " but in a demo-
cratic age, those who are but units of the population
cannot entirely divest themselves of responsibility,
and may perhaps exercise some influence, even with
regard to matters that must be practically dealt with
by experts of administration. We are warranted in
assuming that international peace is not only a
Divine ideal, commending itself to all the good
aspirations of mankind, but also a proper object of
the efforts of statesmen and the policy of govern-
ments. During centuries of almost unceasing war
between the nations, all who have gone to church
have been bidden to pray that it may please God
to give to all nations unity, peace, and concord. But
the Christian Church has not in old time done
much — has hardly even laboured with conscious en-
deavour— to prevent wars from occurring. George
Fox and his followers have made protests, with a
sincerity which they have attested by voluntary
sacrifices, against the causing of bodily pain to any
one either by individuals or by nations, as an act
altogether forbidden to Christians ; but the under-

PEACE AND WAR. 65

standing of Christ's precepts in the letter is mis-
chievously confusing to the Christian conscience, and
it is doubtful whether such repudiations as those
of the Society of Friends and of Count Tolstoi
have not done more to discourage than to stimulate
intelligent and general efforts to avoid war. In
our own age, however, many causes have been co-
operating to awaken the conscience of Christendom
on this question, and to set people thinking how peace
between nations may best be preserved. Our eyes
have been in some degree opened to the kingdom of
heaven as a living reality, and we have been led to
see that this spiritual kingdom claims all the earth,
with its kings and its nations, and all provinces of
human life, for its own ; and it is evident that when
two nations are fighting with each other they are
breaking the pax coelestis, and that one of them
certainly, if not both, has been showing disloyalty
to its heavenly Lord. The idea of the Catholic
Church has .at the same time begun to shine with
more of steady and attractive light before the minds
of all Christians ; and the song has a new music to
our ears in which the four living creatures and the
four and twenty elders pay homage to the Lamb,
saying, " Worthy art Thou to take the book" — the
book of destiny — "and to open the seals thereof: for
Thou wast slain, and didst purchase unto God with
Thy blood men of every tribe, and tongue, and people,
and nation, and madest them to be unto our God
a kingdom and priests ; and they reign upon the
earth." And then the immense increase of inter-
course and the growing complexity of interests
between the different countries on the face of the
globe make war more unnatural and more ruinous ;
whilst the development of the machinery of destruc-
tion causes the imagination to quail before the terrors
of the battle-field and the siege. So that whilst the

F

66 A LENT IN LONDON.

childish doctrine that Christians ought never to
consent to go to war at all takes no hold of men's
minds, many earnest persons are much occupied
with anxious thought as to the ways in which war
might be superseded, or the chances of its occurring
be diminished, or its horrors, if it should occur, be
mitigated.

The suggestion that nations should be persuaded
to contract together for a proportional reduction of
their armaments does not seem to be entitled to
much serious consideration. But the movement in
favour of referring differences between nations, such
as have so often ended in war, to impartial arbitra-
tion, is undoubtedly what we call a practical one.
The method of arbitration has been actually tried
with success ; and it is admitted by the most un-
romantic statesmen that there is promise in it for
the future. Apart from the particular cases in which
irritating and threatening differences have already
been thus settled, the very fact of nations submitting
their claims to what they hope will be just judgment,
and then acquiescing in any concessions which the
judgment imposes upon them, is likely to exercise a
very important moral influence. And this submit-
ting of differences to independent judgment is the
line which the historic progress of peace in the world
has hitherto taken. The savage way of settling
quarrels is to fight them out, till the weaker is killed
or has had enough. The interest of the community,
as soon as a community of the most elementary kind
has existed, has always sought to restrain the free
indulgence of personal anger, and with that view the
ruling power has undertaken to see any complainant
righted and to punish the wrong-doer. The ruling
power forbids the members of the community to
avenge themselves ; it pronounces judgment, and en-
forces its judgment upon all the parties concerned.

PEACE AND WAR. 67

And so peace is preserved, in a greater or less degree,
in a tribe or a nation. Not only are individuals thus
kept from trying what one can do to injure another,
but combinations of persons, sometimes embracing
large numbers, bring questions of right and wrong
into the courts, and submit to the judicial settlement
of them. It has been easy to ask, Why should not
nations, which are large combinations of persons,
have their differences similarly adjusted ? And the
answer has unfortunately been equally obvious.
Nations are not subject to a ruling power. If Europe
were divided into a hundred small countries, it might
be possible to establish a European federal govern-
ment, with an adequate force to maintain peace
amongst the federated States. But, as things now
are and tend to be, we cannot even imagine a central
European force that would undertake to treat — say
France and Germany — as subjects, and to prevent
them from fighting. And we are obliged to admit
that the internal peace of communities would have
had a poor chance if it had depended on voluntary
submission to arbitration.

With regard to the apparent hesitation on the part
of the United States to act on the judgment given by
the Court of Arbitrators in a recent controversy, it
is impossible that the American people could be
guilty of such treason to the cause of peace, and so
dishonour themselves, as definitely to repudiate the
obligation which they have incurred. But the very
hesitation is greatly to be deplored.

Whilst, then, the lovers of peace will do all that
they can to promote the international use of arbitra-
tion in particular cases, and to establish such a
custom of submitting disputed points to arbitration
as may have some constraining moral influence over
statesmen and people, it is idle to hope for any
such success in these endeavours as will warrant a

68 A LENT IN LONDON.

great Power in disarming. When national safety
and national honour are at stake, it will not do to
trust unreservedly to the kindness and unselfishness
of other nations. Arbitration may do mankind the
great service of preventing some wars, but no sensible
person will persuade himself that it lies in arbitration
to abolish war. There are questions which no Eng-
lish statesman would think of referring to arbitra-
tion, unless he meant to surrender altogether his
country's independence, and to make England the
vassal of some Power or Powers outside itself. Our
occupation of Egypt is a living example of such a
question. Frenchmen, it is said, will never be heartily
friendly to us so long as we retain our control of
Egypt. I am afraid there is truth in this statement,
and it is a serious one for us to keep in mind. But
we cannot imagine any earthly judge or jury to whom
we could be expected to submit the simple question
whether we are to retire from Egypt or not. It
would be equivalent to saying to the court, " You
must undertake to govern Egypt, and the British
empire, and the world." For there is a second
question which would require an immediate answer,
" What is to happen in Egypt, not to speak of other
parts of the world, if we withdraw ? "

But my business in this place is to ask what our
Christianity prescribes with regard to international
peace ; and the direct concern of our faith in Christ
is not so much with expedients as with tempers and
affections. And the properly Christian spirit, if it
responds to the heavenly voice which is bidding it
claim public affairs as one sphere of its duty, cannot
fail to be a powerful influence in the promotion of
international peace.

Magnanimity seems to be the name that will best
describe the temper proper to a great Christian
nation in its dealings with other nations. A state

PEACE AND WAR. 69

differs from an individual, and national duty is not
quite the same as individual duty. But it is a great
point to recognize that there is such a thing as duty
towards a neighbour nation. To the Christian eye,
not only are men of all races members of the
universal human race, but the nations are under one
heavenly law, and each one has its place and its
calling in the great Divine economy. As regards
sacred precepts of policy, we are at a disadvantage
from the fact that the New Testament age was not
an age of independent nations, but of an empire
with subject provinces ; and every precept of Christ
and His Apostles possesses the reality and life of
being meant for those to whom it was first addressed.
The New Testament is the book of the Catholic
Church, of redeemed mankind. But the New Testa-
ment is supplemented by the Old, which is the book
of a nation. And even in "the New Testament there
is enough to make nations honourable and sacred to
those who see, as we do, that God is at this time
constructing the world out of them. I must take
this for granted, and I will ask, Have we in England,
we English Christians, acquired thoroughly the habit
of honouring the nations with which we stand side
by side in the world ? Do we always bear in mind
that they are entitled to our respect, to our good will,
to our friendly consideration, to a favourable con-
struction of their sentiments ? Do we feel it to be
wrong, an act to be ashamed of, a violation of God's
law, though there may be no human tribunal to
punish it, that one Power should behave unjustly or
offensively to another Power?

There are those who persuade themselves that
wars are the wanton work of kings and diplomatists,
and that if we could only get the populations con-
sulted before coming to blows, there would to a
certainty be an end of war. But most of us do not

70 A LENT IN LONDON.

so read history. A population often has more
passion, a hotter sense of outraged pride or interest,
less prudence, than sovereigns and ministers of state.
And with us in England, there is no great danger
of the Government hurrying us into a war which the
people would judge to be unnecessary and unjusti-
fiable. At all events, a gracious and magnanimous
feeling on the part of the general population towards
foreign nations would quickly tell on the policy of
our Foreign Office : nay, why should we not con-
gratulate ourselves on its having told already ? For
I do believe that in the general mind of England
there is more of a desire to act justly, considerately,
peaceably, towards all other nations, great and small,
than is abroad put to the credit of perfidious Albion.
If we venture to think fairly well of ourselves in this
respect, let us try earnestly to justify our self-esteem.
By our own habitual temper and way of speaking
we should let our representatives know that we wish
them, not to weaken our fighting force, not to lessen
our influence for good in the world, but to refrain
carefully from all that an impartial judge would
pronounce to be aggressive, insolent, vexatiously
exacting, and to make liberal allowance for national
susceptibilities.

I have admitted that, as regards Christian duty,
we cannot transfer the principles of conduct straight
from the individual to a nation. The Christian law
of personal duty is that a man should surrender
himself absolutely to the disposal of the heavenly
Father, so that by him and through him the Father's
will may be done : not — as sacrifice is sometimes
perversely misunderstood — that he should throw
himself away, or make himself less serviceable to the
Father's purposes than he might be ; but that he
should offer himself, the best he is and the best he
can make of himself, to the doing of the Father's

PEACE AND WAR. 71

will. And this we may believe to be also the true
principle of a nation's conduct. But an individual
may easily be called, in this sacrifice of himself, to
give up his life or his property : for a nation, on the
other hand — while we may refrain from laying down
that it can never be conceivably a nation's duty to
give up its life — it seems to be almost an absolute
duty to cherish and defend its life. It is not a selfish
feeling in a citizen to rejoice in his country's in-
dependence and greatness.

And such a feeling will of itself dispose the wise
patriot to desire that his nation should cultivate an
unaggressive and respectful policy, a policy of good
will and consideration, towards other nations. For
a nation may take to itself the encouragement given
both under the old covenant and the new to indi-
viduals : " He that would love life and see good
days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his
lips that they speak no guile : and let him turn
away from evil and do good ; let him seek peace, and
pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are upon the
righteous, and His ears unto their supplication ; but
the face of the Lord is upon them that do evil." It
cannot be hurtful to a nation in the long run that it
should endeavour, at the cost of some self-restraint
and of any reasonable concessions, to be on the best
possible terms with its neighbours. I am far from
advocating a feeble external policy, but before and
beneath any duty of going to war and of trying to
be victorious in war, the Christian must set, for his
country as for himself, the great ideal of peace and
good will amongst men. The Lord, Whose slaves we
Christians are, is the Prince of Peace. If He forbade
us absolutely to strike with the whip or with the
sword, to deal death with rifle or artillery, we should
be bound to obey Him. When He bids us fight, it
must be because the true peace which He loves, and

72 A LENT IN LONDON.

which He came to establish, is to be better attained
by fighting than by submitting. Inasmuch as the
Son of God is the heavenly Peacemaker, there is a
blessing on all who anywhere make peace, and they
shall share His name, and be called sons of God.

But St. Paul's precept admits that the keeping of
peace does not depend upon one party only. The
most peaceable of men may be forced into a con-
tention, into an appeal to the law. which may result
in bringing serious punishment upon his adversary.
And a nation may be forced into war more easily,
according to Christian principles, than a single person
into a quarrel ; because kings and ministers of state,
and all citizens in their degree, are trustees for large
and high interests, which it is not within their right
to surrender as men may surrender things which are
privately theirs. At present there is no way of
securely preventing war. That a great nation should
make it known that nothing will provoke it into war,
and should let its high spirit run down and its
weapons of attack and defence grow rusty, is un-
questionably the way to invite treatment from other
powers which no self-respecting nation could tolerate.
If you could imagine England persuaded by blind
letter-worshipping Christians to disarm itself, totally
or partially, that would be the worst service that
could be rendered to the cause of peace.

We have to reckon upon war as possibly inevitable.
I do not enter into argument with those who hold
that a Christian man is not allowed in any circum-
stances, in a private or a public cause, to lay a finger
of force upon a fellow-man. I believe that they
entirely misread the New Testament; but they are
few, and almost silent. A far more injurious notion
is that of those who assume that war is an unchristian
sort of thing, but also that it is a necessity in such a
world as this. If it is necessary to go to war, it is

PEACE AND WAR. 73

not unchristian. Nothing that is necessary is for-
bidden by Christ. And if we can enter upon war
with a clear conscience, it is foolish to urge that we
should disable ourselves beforehand for the conflict.
The chance of having to go to war implies to a
rational mind our making ourselves ready for war.
What can we think of the good sense of those — and
there are such persons — who in the same breath will
denounce armaments and demand that our Govern-
ment should instantly protect Armenians from the
cruelties of Turks and Kurds ? It is not for me to
express an opinion as to what our armies and ships
of war and defences should be, and I do not know
that there is any slackness on the part of our people
in making such preparations as their responsible
advisers tell them are necessary. Every one can
understand how important it is to protect our trade
and guard our dense population from being starved.
But it does not appear to me to be unsuitable that
I should appeal to our Christianity as not merely
permitting but enjoining us to keep ourselves well
armed, and to nourish a courageous spirit.

I remember being present a good many years ago
at a meeting for religious discussion, at which Mr.
Henry Richard was invited to plead the cause of
peace. Mr. Richard was a good man, who drew to
himself the reverent esteem of all who knew him.
We listened to him with sincere respect as he dwelt
upon the horrors of war, and made appalling calcu-
lations of the money spent on armaments. And we
were then constrained to ask him what his counsel
was with regard to our armies and fleets. He pro-
tested rather warmly that he had never maintained
that we ought to disarm ourselves altogether. What
then ? Did he contend that we were spending four
times as much, or twice as much, on armaments
as we ought to do ? But he disliked being thus

74 A LENT IN LONDON.

questioned, and replied that he was sorry not to meet
with more sympathy from his audience. No doubt
we ought not to blind ourselves to the wounds and
deaths and destruction of property which war causes,
nor to the fact that the millions which we spend on
our army and navy might be otherwise spent on
various good objects. But a nation which spends
what it deems necessary, however immense the sum
may be, on self-preservation, may rightly ask, " Is not
the life more than meat, and the body than raiment ? "
An accurate description of a field of battle, of a rout,
of a siege, of an army wasted by disease, may be
painful beyond what we can bear. But it is not
amiss to remember that there are other human
sufferings which would not form a pleasant picture.
These soldiers who have been killed or badly
wounded were not otherwise going to live for ever
in perfect health. How many of them might not
have suffered as much or more before they died, if
they had not been victims of war ? And the lives
of many of them, if they had been prolonged, would
not to a certainty have been of great value. Human
life is not all golden. We often express without
misgivings a deliberate wish that there were not so
large a quantity of it upon certain areas as there is.
But if we decline to go into uncomfortable com-
parative estimates of this kind, the horrors of war
and its expensiveness, honestly and sternly faced,
may produce another impression upon our minds
than that of daunting us.

If there are any lessons characteristic of Christianity,
this is one of them — that we are to set the things of
the spirit above the things of the flesh. There is no
amount of fleshly ease that can be weighed in the
scales of Christ against even a low spiritual value.
And the honour and consciousness of a nation are
spiritual things. It has often been alleged by free

PEACE AND WAR. 75

critics that the morality of the New Testament is
defective in not including patriotism amongst the
Christian virtues. But Christianity puts no slight
upon the Jewish patriotism, that supreme virtue of
the Old Testament, which is a part of our Christian
inheritance. If you could bring together under one
view all the deaths and wounds that Englishmen have
suffered and inflicted in war, and make one colossal
addition sum of all the moneys spent on war by
English governments from the days of Alfred till now,
can we set the pain and the cost for a moment against
what England has been and is in the realm of the
spirit to her sons ? The truth on which I am insisting
has been expressed in some vivid sentences by the
author of "Ecce Homo." "War is frequently de-
nounced as unchristian, because it involves circum-
stances of horror : and when the ardent champions of
some great cause have declared that they would per-
severe although it should be necessary to lay waste a
continent and exterminate a nation, the resolution is
stigmatized as shocking and unchristian. Shocking
it may be, but not therefore unchristian " (p. 278).
Whilst he condemns religious persecutions as deplor-
able mistakes, carried on with much evil passion, he
is yet bold to testify — "the ostensible object of such
horrors was Christian, and the indignation which pro-
fessedly prompts them is also Christian, and the
assumption they involve, that agonies of pain and
blood shed in rivers are less evils than the soul spotted
and bewildered with sin, is most Christian " (p. 280).
I do not see how we can refuse our assent to these
statements ; and in days of softness, when an absurd
value is set upon human life as mere existence, it
must be well that we should steep our minds in such
convictions. At the same time, it is a comfort to
know that Christian humanity has done something,
and may probably do more, to mitigate the horrors

76 A LENT IN LONDON.

of war, as well as to make its occurrence less likely.
Under international rules, which it is the interest of
all powers to observe, non-combatants have now a
degree of protection which formerly they could not
claim ; and to the fighting men war is made by
various prescriptions less exasperating than it used to
be. Here is a field on which our Christianity is bound
to push its influence to the furthest possible point.

Some of those who denounce war would meet the
argument that there are spiritual values for which
we must be ready to suffer and inflict the pains in-
volved in war, by asserting that war necessarily
degrades the contending nations by the unspiritual
passions which it stimulates and lets loose. I find it
alleged, for example, that " the moral deterioration
and the depraving of right principle involved in war
are much more serious than the visible and immediate
results of this abysmal evil." I believe that actual
experience calls for some modification of this judg-
ment. There is a terrible war, producing hideous
slaughter, now going on between China and Japan.
It looks as if it were an aggressive war on the part
of Japan. But I feel little doubt that the Japanese
people are raised in the moral scale rather than
lowered by this war ; that they hate the Chinese less
now than they did before the war began ; that the
patriotic sentiment inspiring the whole people to make
joyful sacrifices for the sake of the safety and aggran-
dizement of their country is on the whole an elevating
one. The most shocking war of my lifetime was the
American civil war ; and I do not believe that any
American who lived through the war in either Northern
or Southern State would admit that the general moral
tone of the population was lowered by it. As to the
moral effect of the Crimean war I can speak with
more knowledge. Some of my hearers may think
that I am making myself an apologist for war ; but I

* or THS

{ \?*HV£B£iT>r
or

PEACE AND WAR. 77

am conscious of no other desire than to do justice to
the good I have known. It is impossible for those
who lived during that war to forget how deeply we
were all moved by it ; and every emotion that it
stirred, of hope, of anxiety, of awe, of grief, was a
nobler one than the habitual feelings of ordinary life.
We had no malignant hatred of the enemy. The
luxurious class sent out its men in larger proportion
than any other class to die and to suffer cruel hard-
ships for their country. I was then living and work-
ing in Whitechapel, and I had much to do with
correspondence between families there and soldiers in
the Crimea, and I could not help seeing how humble
lives were exalted by the demands and the dangers
of heroic service. I had a friend who was with our
army as chaplain in the Crimea, and who saw all the
miseries of that terrible campaign without the stimulus
of being a combatant ; and after his return he told
me that, as he reflected on the past, he was sure he
had never lived in so good a spiritual atmosphere as
that of the English army on those blood-stained
heights. Do not suppose me to say that we should
do well in going to war for the sake of the moral
advantages that we might gain by it ; I have suffi-
ciently declared that I count it a sin to bring on a
needless war : but I hold myself warranted in believ-
ing that, if at any time we felt that as a self-respecting
nation we had no alternative but to accept a challenge
to battle, we might expect a fine thrill to go through
every section of the population, waking up unselfish
aspirations, drawing us into mutual sympathy and
united effort, and teaching us to value more worthily
the glories and blessings of our national heritage.

As I am asking you to look at the question of
international peace and war in the light of reso-
lute uncompromising Christian faith, and especially
with reference to the personal duty lying upon us as

73 A LENT IN LONDON.

citizens of a Christian country, I do not dwell at any
length upon the aspects of war which have presented
themselves to historical inquirers, when they have
endeavoured to estimate the effects of particular wars
upon the nations which have been engaged in them.
But if we reject the doctrine that a war has always
been sin and wickedness from beginning to end and
on both sides, and hold that a nation may be obeying
Christ in taking up arms, there may well be some
Christian satisfaction in recognizing the service which
war has been made to render to the progress of man-
kind. We rightly desire to see in the history of the
world as many signs of a beneficent governing Hand
as we can discern. Looking back upon the period
which comes within living memory, we find results
of primary importance ascribed by political observers
to almost every great war of the period. There seem
to be knots in human affairs which cannot be untied
by negotiation, and which require the violence of war
to cut them. I suppose there is no American, even
in the Southern States, who does not now recognize
that the sufferings and losses of the civil war were a
price that it was worth while to pay for the deliver-
ance of the continent from slavery, and for the
higher and closer unity which binds the several States
and their people into one great nation. On the soil
of Italy rivers of blood have been shed in our time ;
but the result of the carnage has been to change Italy
from being a geographical expression into a united
nation and an important European Power. As to the
terrible war between Germany and France, it is im-
possible that Germans can regard it as a baneful and
fruitless crime ; whilst even Frenchmen, smarting
under the humiliation of their country, have been
able to recognize great compensating advantages in
the downfall of the Second Empire and in the forcing
of wholesome thought into the minds of the French

PEACE AND WAR. 79

people. Those who value trade highly, as most do of
those to whom war is entirely evil and absolutely
wrong, will not be able to blind themselves to the
good which may at least be occasioned by evil, if
victorious Japan should compel the Chinese to open
their whole empire freely to foreign trade. This will
do the Chinese themselves more good, in the mere
maintenance of physical life and well-being, than they
will have suffered harm in the slaughter of their
worthless armies and the disabling of costly vessels.
A war is sharp, but it does not last long, whilst these
vast boons go on spreading their influence from year
to year and from generation to generation.

Such historical observations may make us doubtful
whether the time has yet come in the counsels of
God for the superseding of war, and therefore less will-
ing to risk the honour and greatness of our country
on the chance that no foreign Power will ever offer us
an insult or do us an injury ; but they ought not to
persuade statesmen — and I do not believe that they
would — to speculate in war as a means of gaining
something for their country and for mankind. I
would echo the doctrine of the Quakers, that where
duty is clear, the results of doing it are to be left in
God's hands. God knows better than we do how His
world is to be governed. He must have ways, whether
we can imagine them or not, of governing the world
without war. He must know how to save a people
from being engrossed by money-getting, or surrender-
ing themselves to the excitements of frivolity and
carnal pleasure, or being turned into sheep by the
dull and comfortable routine of a quiet life. And
nothing can be clearer than the Christian duty of
doing what makes for peace. It can never be right
to be insolent, grasping, false to engagements. We
ought to be lovers of our country, and it cannot be
wrong that a blush of anger should come into the

So A LENT IN LONDON.

cheek of a Christian citizen if the honour of his nation
should be outraged or its rightful interests assailed ;
but it is still more certainly right that the blush
should turn itself into one of shame if the country
that he loves should be betrayed by its Government
into aggressive or justly irritating action, especially
towards a weaker state. The ideal bearing of a
Christian Power in international relations seems to be
that of a high-spirited gentleman of the old time — of
a person, that is, trained to the use of arms, ready to
resent a purposed outrage, but mindful of the obliga-
tions of courtesy and honour and social harmony,
conscious that his station pledges him to self-restraint
and magnanimity, twilling to wound yet not afraid
to strike.

THE COLONIES.

BY THE

REV. BERNARD R. WILSON, M.A.,
Rector of Kettering.

"His seed shall become a multitude of nations." — GEN. xlviii. 19.

THE old Hebrew patriarch lay dying. Summoned
to his bedside, his sons are to be " gathered together
to hearken unto Israel their father/' as with pro-
phetic insight, made more penetrating by approaching
death, he gives to each his final message. But first
Joseph, his best-loved son, has brought his own two
lads, born to him in Egypt, to receive the old man's
parting blessing. "God . . . bless the lads," he
says, "and let them grow into a multitude in the
midst of the earth." And then, with growing keen-
ness of prophetic vision, he looks down the ages of
the future, and, singling out the younger lad, lays
upon Ephraim's head his right hand, and promises
to his tribe a destiny of growing power. " His seed
shall become a multitude of nations."

We must not stay to consider what measure of
fulfilment the words received in the later history of
the powerful tribe of Ephraim, with its predominant
influence, its men of war, its royal house and goodly
cities.

They lend themselves to our present purpose, and
far more literally describe a national growth and
development of modern times even more remarkable

G

82 A LENT IN LONDON.

and quite as unexpected as that of Israel of old from
a clan to a people.

The English people, once isolated among the
nations of Europe, numerically insignificant, over-
shadowed by more powerful neighbours, by a
wonderful outburst of national vigour and develop-
ment, extending over three and a half centuries, has
" grown into a multitude in the midst of the earth "•
" a multitude of nations " reproducing in the utter-
most parts of the earth their own free institutions
of self-government, yet bound together by ties of
common kinship and common interest, and by a
very real sentiment of common love.

This expansion of England, the causes which have
produced it, the essential conditions of its permanent
stability, and the larger moral responsibility which
devolves upon each citizen of our great empire, — these
are the subjects for our consideration to-day, not
unfitly introduced by the suggestive words of the
dying patriarch, which lend themselves as a suitable
motto to the story of the English people. The
greatness and importance of the subject may well
claim our closest attention, and if the complexity of
the issues involved seem to make its adequate
treatment well-nigh impossible, I can only ask
your pardon, and express the hope that you will
follow out for yourselves some of the lines of thought
which I can only hope to suggest to you in barest
outline.

Only, before we finally turn our thoughts from the
death-bed of the patriarch, let me point out that his
words are not merely a convenient motto, but to this
extent a text that they suggest an underlying moral
correspondence with the central thought which I
desire to emphasize. The so-called blessings of
Jacob to his sons are, as you remember, prophetic
outlines of the varying fortunes of their tribes in

THE COLONIES. 83

later days. And the characteristic feature of his
prophecy is this, that the moral and spiritual
character of the fathers, reproduced in their children
through successive generations, is the determining
factor which will shape the social and political fortunes
of their several descendants. Reuben and Simeon
will hand on characters which will fail to leave a
mark upon the world. Their names will be blotted
out from the map of the tribes. Judah and Joseph
have gained a personal force of character which, if
maintained, will make their offspring great and
mighty peoples.

It is this suggestive thought, that the political
welfare of peoples is determined by moral considera-
tions, which justifies such a subject for a sermon as
that proposed to you to-day. It is not, then, wholly
unreasonable to go to church to hear about the
colonies. Rather we may rejoice that in a course
of sermons in which a consistent effort is being made
to turn the light of Christian teaching upon modern
social problems, space has been found for a brief
study of those problems peculiar to us as a people
whose " seed has become a multitude of nations."

"The expansion of England" has become the
almost hackneyed phrase by which we describe the
steady upgrowth of this multitude of nations.
Familiar as the thought has become, it still stirs
the feelings of most of us. We are proud of our
great empire over which the sun never sets, and of
the oceans of the world which have become the
highways for British commerce. We are proud of
the vigorous life of our growing colonies, and of the
British flag under which peace and order are secured
to distracted peoples. We rejoice at the confidence
inspired by the British name among countless uncivi-
lized races of the world. But are we at the pains to
study the causes which have led to English greatness,

84 A LENT IN LONDON.

and the conditions of its permanence ? Do we ever
realize the extent of our corresponding responsi-
bilities, or ask ourselves seriously how far they are
being neglected or fulfilled ?

In studying the causes which have led to the strange
and irresistible development of our colonial empire,
we can no longer content ourselves with attributing
this new historical phenomenon to an inherent genius
for colonization. The late Professor Seeley, in his
well-known lectures,1 has shown conclusively that it
is a new and startling fact characteristic only of
modern English history.

However much the blood of Danes and Northmen
may have adapted our forefathers for colonial enter-
prise, the significant fact remains that as a people
we were the last to enter the field. At least four
of the continental nations of Europe had won
colonial empires before our earliest venture in this
direction was made. And next, we cannot fail to
note that this modern development which forms the
distinctive feature of our later history as a people,
had its origin in that mighty movement of the six-
teenth century of which the mainspring was the
great religious revival which we call the Reformation.
It was not until England had freed herself from the
trammels of medievalism that she began to send
forth her sons to the uttermost parts of the earth
to be witnesses to the force and vigour of the new
modern life which was opening before them — of which
their religion was, in fact, the inspiring power. It
would, of course, be utterly misleading to assert that
the impulse to colonial enterprise was based upon
religious motive. But none the less it may fairly
be maintained that the colonial development of
England had its origin in that religious revival
which stirred the life and moulded the character
1 " The Expansion of England," by J. R. Seeley.

THE COLONIES. 85

of Englishmen ; while the presence of the religious
factor in this development is further evidenced by
the fact, that when the first charter for the founding
of an English colony was granted to Sir Humphrey
Gilbert, who took possession of Newfoundland in
1583, the main object of his expedition was declared
to be to " discover and to plant Christian inhabitants
in places convenient." And from this time and
throughout the seventeenth century the extension
of Christ's kingdom continued one of the avowed
objects of British colonization.1

But if it be true that religion thus operated as one
of the powerful causes which resulted in successful
colonial enterprise, we are led to approach the further
question as to the essential conditions of stability
of our colonial empire with a fresh thought in our
minds.

To all who try to study the moral aspects of
political or social life, the serious question cannot
fail to present itself whether, after all, it can be true
that nations and peoples, like individuals, have each
of them a great moral purpose to serve, and that
in the faithful fulfilment of national vocation lies
the real condition of a nation's peace. The Bible
appears to state this with absolute clearness. The
inspired books are largely historical, and profess to
give us a true philosophy of history — the veil lifted
from some typical chapters so as to reveal their
spiritual import, and teach us something of the laws
of God's government of the world. There, in the
Old Testament, we have the story of a nation, which
was also a Church, called by God to do a certain
spiritual work for the world ; and the failure of the
Jewish Church to realize its high vocation as the
appointed witness to God's truth, led to the ruin and
destruction of the Jewish people ; and the scattered

1 See "Digest of S.P.G. Records," p. I.

86 A LENT IN LONDON.

Jews of every later age stand forth to the world as
God's great object-lesson on a lost vocation. Can
it be that similar principles obtain elsewhere ? That
history is but the slow unfolding through successive
ages of God's great moral laws affecting social life ?
That nations and empires, with their rise and fall,
pass under the operation of moral forces as uniform
as all the known forces of God's world, only of a
higher order ? The suggestion is apt to be laid aside
as impossible. For how, we ask, can political ethics
be other than purely utilitarian in character ? Ob-
viously it appears that nations and empires are
bound together solely from considerations of mutual
interest. We shrink from the application of the
theocratic idea to secular history. We can hardly
bring ourselves to believe that the fulfilment of a
moral and spiritual vocation constitutes that which
belongs to a nation's peace. But the old conviction
to which we hesitate to give expression comes back
to us again with renewed force. Last year most of
us were reading with great interest a book on " Social
Evolution," in which the writer, proceeding as an
investigator from the purely scientific standpoint,
leads us to somewhat startling conclusions. In social
evolution he traces the operation of the same ever-
present law which makes all vital progress depend
upon a constant struggle for existence ; he sees
that, with the development of the rational principle
in man, the selfish instinct of the individual will seek
to suspend the struggle, even at the cost of the
ultimate progress of the race ; and he concludes that
continuous social progress will increasingly depend
upon the development of a spirit of self-sacrifice of
sufficient force to fortify men for the ever-increasing
pressure of the struggle; that this spirit of self-
sacrifice, which he regards as the essential condition
of all social progress, must rest upon an adequate

THE COLONIES. 87

motive and moral sanction ; that religion alone can
furnish the required motive, and that the progress
of the future will be religious in the direction of its
development. And lastly, he affirms that the spirit
of the Reformation has given to an unique extent the
inspiring impulse to social progress.

But if this argument, even in general outline,
commands our assent, the scientific investigator has
thrown an entirely new light upon the political
history and social progress of our race. The ex-
pansion of England needs to be regarded from a new
point of view. "The multitude of nations," which
is the result of a great religious movement, has a
mighty task to perform in the world ; but the task
is primarily a religious one, and the determining
factor upon which the welfare of the empire depends
is the continued religious character of the peoples
of whom it is composed. Well may the British
empire thrill us with a feeling of enthusiasm and
patriotic zeal. But we shall begin to realize that its
centre of gravity is shifting from the Stock Exchange
to the Church. Its real condition of permanent
health depends upon its ability to maintain a dis-
tinctively religious character. The English empire
will no longer be regarded merely as an aggregate
of peoples accidentally held together by economic
considerations, but rather as " a multitude of nations "
with a spiritual vocation which must at all costs be
fulfilled.

Probably this aspect of our empire, viewed from
a religious point of view, will strike many as an
unfamiliar thought, perhaps as a merely fanciful idea.
For myself, I can only say that if I did not believe
in it, I should not be here to-day to preach about
our colonies. And surely indications are not want-
ing which go to prove that it is not a fanciful idea.
The practical evidence of a dominant religious

88 A LENT IN LONDON.

principle is to be sought, as the writer of " Social
Evolution " indicates, in the existence of the spirit
of self-sacrifice. And we find abundant proof that
England and her colonies are prepared for mutual
self-sacrifice. The very existence of the principle
of free trade amongst ourselves, with no assertion of
a corresponding claim upon our colonies for reciprocal
advantages, is a standing evidence of the spirit which
animates England ; while the enthusiastic rivalry
with which colonial volunteers sought to gain the
place of honour by the side of English soldiers in
their vain attempt to save a noble Englishman from
a cruel death, proved to the world the readiness of
our colonies to spend and be spent for the sake of
the mother country.

But these are only isolated examples, and they
come upon us almost as a surprise, for the simple
reason that we have hardly learned to regard the
question from this point of view; and because, if
we admit that religion provides the only adequate
motive of self-sacrifice, we must acknowledge to our
shame that in the past we have made no real attempt
to provide our colonies with the means for developing
this motive.

And this brings me to my last point — our national
responsibility : its past neglect, and our present
opportunity.

How have we as a Christian people dealt with our
colonies in this respect ? Not like the old pioneers
who went out to "discover and to plant Christian
inhabitants in places convenient." We peopled
Australia with our convicts. We sent them out
by hundreds, with no adequate provision for their
spiritual needs. We founded societies of criminals,
where the conditions of life became so loathsome
that suicide was regarded as a legitimate and natural
end to their miserable existence. We thought to

THE COLONIES. 89

govern India with greater ease by seeking to prevent
the conversion of the natives to the faith of Christ.
We closed our eyes in days gone by to cruel treat-
ment of native races by English traders. These are
some of the stern facts which mark the spiritual
apathy of our people in the past. And every such
fact is a cause which involves a consequence. We
have good cause to know, from home experience, how
the spiritual apathy of one age produces the political
problems of the next. The burning questions of
to-day which exercise the minds of our statesmen
are but the outcome of the spiritual failure of the
Church of the English people to realize in days gone
by her high vocation. Can we wonder if, in the face
of facts like these, colonial problems seem difficult
of solution ? Should we have a right to complain
if those young communities repaid our past neglect
with a growing indifference and selfishness ? That
such is happily not the case to any large extent, is
due to the great awakening of the conscience of
England during the past fifty years to a sense of the
spiritual responsibility which rests upon her. Much,
indeed, has been done to roll away the reproach.
Eight years ago we kept the centenary of our colonial
episcopate. And now, in little more than a century,
we have nearly one hundred colonial and missionary
bishops. This fact is one index of the extent to
which the Churchmen of England have been roused
to learn, if tardily, the force of the Apostle's question,
" How shall they hear without a preacher ? how shall
they preach except they be sent ? " But even now
can we profess that our responsibilities are at
all adequately discharged? Our oldest missionary
society, which makes the welfare of our colonies its
special charge — nay, which has given us our colonial
Churches — is supported with a paltry sum of ^"80,000
a year. How many business men, with direct or

90 A LENT IN LONDON.

indirect colonial interests, think it their duty to be
subscribers to the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel ?

Or, again, to turn to more direct responsibilities,
any one who has had experience of colonial work
knows that the circumstance which most hampers
every scheme of colonial Church extension (and
remember the furtherance of religion is that which
the scientist now points to as the essential condition
of future progress and prosperity) arises from the
fact that owners of property are to a large extent
non-resident. Our colonies suffer from absenteeism.
They are largely worked by English capital. And
while the poor of England pour forth in a steady
stream to the colonies to seek new homes beyond
the sea, where no adequate provision is made for
their spiritual needs, the wealth of those colonies,
which should enable such provision to be made, to
a large extent comes home to England to enrich the
shareholders in colonial companies. Its results are
seen on Scotch moors and in our London parks.
And the mass of those whose economic connection
with the colonies lays upon them a moral responsi-
bility to the distant land from which their income is
in part derived, find too many reasons to repudiate
the claim. The majority of individual shareholders
are not prepared to make the discharge of this moral
claim a first charge upon their dividends. They
have many calls at home. They give liberally, it
may be, to religious objects. They cannot concern
themselves with the needs of colonial Churches. The
public companies plead their inability to give in
support of Church work because of the tenor of their
articles of association. These things ought not to
be. And each can do a very little to insure a more
frank and liberal acknowledgment of this moral and
spiritual claim. Will not individual shareholders

THE COLONIES. 91

learn to regard this as a debt of honour, due to the
colony from which their income comes ; due to
England and to the empire which depends for its
prosperity upon vocation faithfully fulfilled ; due to
Christ, Who has laid it upon us above all people to
be His faithful witnesses unto the uttermost parts of
the earth ?

If once a healthier public opinion be formed
through the force of individual example, the good
leaven will spread, and the great investment com-
panies which own colonial property will eliminate
from their articles any clause which forbids the
recognition of spiritual claims. It will be a sad
day for England if " the multitude of nations "
which have sprung from her become dominated by
secularism and selfishness through our neglect.

It has already proved in many cases, if I mistake
not, a sad day for shareholders in colonial companies.
And while I almost shrink from seeming to base an
appeal upon sordid and secondary motives, my task
will not be complete without the expression of my
own strong conviction that the discharge of these
spiritual responsibilities has a very real economic
value. In our economic dealings with our colonies
we shall find a very literal fulfilment of the Master's
words, " With what measure ye mete withal it shall
be measured to you again." In the flowing tide
of colonial life there are strong currents which set
with increasing force in the direction of social and
financial disorganization. Industrial problems, racial
problems which are closely connected with them, a
dishonest mental habit which finds expression in
reckless speculation with all its disastrous results, —
these are some of the dangers which give to colonial
prosperity a sense of insecurity which quickly makes
itself apparent in the money market. One force
alone can give the true solution to these problems —

92 A LENT IN LONDON.

that which comes from the application of Christian
teaching to the facts of life. And if that force is
found too weak to stem the tide of selfishness, it is
because our niggardliness withholds the means which
can make the Church of Jesus Christ the informing
power of the life of those great and growing com-
munities. The noble task is ours by right. The
special genius of the colonies demands an inspiration
of a special kind, which the Church alone has in-
herited the power to give. Strong with the force of
Catholic tradition and the authority of an Apostolic
mission, and quickened by the free spirit of self-
reliance drawn from the Reformation, she can bring
forth out of her treasures things new and old. No
other Christian community, however zealous, can
supply the spiritual force adapted to impress the
Christian character upon colonial life. The golden
opportunity is ours still. It remains for all who
realize the urgency of the call, and the greatness of
the issues which are involved, to strive, by liberal
offerings and earnest self-denying efforts, so to fulfil
our national vocation that the " multitude of nations "
may become "the kingdoms of our Lord and of His
Christ."

COUNTRY LIFE.

BY THE

REV. J. CHARLES COX, LL.D., F.S.A.
" Desire a better country." — HEB. xi. 16.

IT has been suggested to me, as the half-century of
my life has been spent almost exclusively amid the
fair surroundings of England's rural scenery, that a
suitable theme for this brief city talk would be
" Country Life." But keen as may be my appre-
ciation of nature's rustic charm — and yours may be
keener still just because of your rarer opportunities
of enjoying them — we meet not here to " babble of
green fields," nor to

"... pause on every charm, —
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made."

A sterner task is ours. We meet here in God's
house to remind ourselves that there is a social
question in our thinly populated country districts
just as much as in our crowded towns; that the
urgency of its demands is the most pressing question
of the day ; and that " the intolerable situation into
which the lower grades of our industrial population
now find themselves driven " (I quote the words of

94 A LENT IN LONDON.

that great leader of earnest city church-folk, Canon
Scott Holland) is mainly owing to our failure to
make the country attractive and liveable for those
who ought to be the busy and therefore the happy
toilers in our fields.

When we reflect that the extraordinary and un-
paralleled disproportion between our rural and urban
population is growing, after a startlingly increasing
ratio, year by year ; that our sturdy agricultural
labourers are turning their backs upon the land, and
adding to the overcrowding of city tenements and
the unskilled labour markets of the town, by the ten
thousand in a twelvemonth ; that much of England's
soil is going altogether out of cultivation as season
follows season ; that one hundred thousand acres per
annum have for some years been turned from the
growing of cereals into mere pasture-land ; that the
land which is under active cultivation is producing
less and less, and getting more and more befouled ;
that about fifty per cent, of the unemployed of our
towns were originally working on the land ; and that
the number of steady-lived villagers who are prac-
tically out of employ from the ingathering of the
harvest to the spring sowing grows larger each
recurring winter ; — why, then, surely, it is permissible
for us — nay, not permissible, but right, and if right,
righteous, and therefore a godly thing — to desire in
this England of ours, for the sake of our nation, our-
selves, and God's starving poor, a " better country "
than the one in which we now live under its present
conditions.

These are broad and general statements, but they
are amply substantiated by national statistics as well
as by the independent researches of painstaking indi-
viduals. They are facts that approve themselves
not only to those who long for great and consider-
able social changes, but to sober, earnest-minded

COUNTRY LIFE. 95

Conservative statesmen such as Sir John Gorst, and to
many careful speakers who support the agricultural
views of Lord Winchelsea's Union. It would be
downright sinful, as well as cowardly, to quote such
figures, or to give credence to such statements from
the pulpit, unless they were practically assured
realities. It is in vain to expect to kindle in practical
Englishmen a desire for a "better country," unless
they are first convinced that the country needs
improving. Occasional visits to picturesque villages
or breezy downs, for health or recreation, may leave
no other impression than a gratifying contrast to
London grime or town squalor. Nay, the whole of
a mainly selfish life may be led in the country or the
suburbs, and eyes and ears and heart may remain
sealed to the truth.

Allow me, in a sentence or two, to put the case of
the purely country district where I now live in
certain aspects before you. It is the rural union
district of Brixworth, Northamptonshire, comprising
thirty-six small parishes, with an area of 60,000 acres
and a population of 12,000. It is well known to
some as being in the centre of the Pytchley hunt,
and to others as being the ideal union of the most
rigidly enforced experiments of the non-out-relief
school of Poor Law economists. But whatever success
this workhouse-test, rate-saving policy of twenty
years' duration (now beginning to collapse) may
have had in the eyes of its well-intentioned promoters,
it has not saved the district from depopulation of a
most serious character (the most serious in all the
county), it having decreased by 1600 in seventy
years, 1200 of that decrease being in the last ten;
it has not enabled the employers of labour to pay
better wages, the weekly wage having dropped this
winter to 12s. for the ordinary workers and 13^ for
the seven-day men ; and it has not prevented a large

96 A LENT IN LONDON.

number of men, eager for work, standing idle during
the winter.

An amateur census of the unemployed in that
union was recently taken, with the result that 234
able-bodied labourers were found to be out of work
before ever the recent long-continued frost set in.
Most of these were married men, so that it followed
that some 700 persons were suffering considerable
privation just at the season when warm clothing,
abundance of fuel, and extra nourishment are among
the necessaries for sustaining a decently healthy life.
In my own small historic village of Holdenby, round
the charming village green, were living fifteen able-
bodied householders ; ten were in work and five could
not obtain it, or only fitfully and an odd day at a
time. In the same parish, on the home farm of 540
acres, there were three men employed — that is, one
labourer to 180 acres. Broad statements require
corroborating occasionally by more minute details
such as these. Can any one dare to say that this is
a desirable state of things ? Is this to be the country
life of England? Is it not, too, a condition of things
for which each one of us is to some extent, and in
differing degree, responsible ? Is it not right, then,
that we should desire a " better country " ? And a
better country means a better town.

Strange talk, methinks some of you, my brothers,
may be saying to yourselves, for a church pulpit ; but
if there are these evil conditions wrapping themselves
closer and closer round the very germs of our national
life and existence — for the origin of all existence and
prosperity is the cultivation of the earth — surely it is
better that they should be brought home to us in
positive methods, rather than be smothered up in
sermon euphemisms, or rendered palatable by being
presented in the vague generalities of everyday
speech. Strange talk, too, some again may say, to

COUNTRY LIFE. 97

base upon a text which, if taken in its entirety,
clearly lays down that the " better country " we should
seek is a heavenly inheritance.

True ; but look for a moment or two at the teaching
of this whole passage in the Hebrews. The great
patriarch of old went forth from his heathen home to
seek on this earth, under God's guidance, a promised
land, a better country. Had he been unduly mindful
of the country from whence he came out, he had
many an opportunity to return. But no ; Abraham
and his immediate posterity realized plainly that they
were in the land of promise, where their descendants
would be eventually established, each beneath his
own vine and fig tree. At the same time, they
equally acknowledged themselves to be but strangers
and pilgrims in this world, looking forward finally to
an inheritance in the heavenly country. One of the
earliest of the Fathers who writes about this passage
points out that all men naturally look for an earthly
abiding-place, a home that they can call their own,
one little spot, however humble, of which they cannot
be dispossessed. The same idea is well elaborated
by the modern commentator Delitzsch. "The
promise," says he, "given to the patriarchs was a
divine assurance of a future rest ; that rest was con-
nected, in the first instance, with the future possession
of an earthly home ; but their desire for that home
was, at the same time, a longing and a seeking after
Him Who had given the promise of it, Whose presence
and blessing alone made it for them an object of
desire, and Whose presence and blessing, wherever
vouchsafed, makes the place of its manifestation to
be indeed a heaven. The shell of their longing
might thus be of earth, its kernel was heavenly
and divine, and as such God Himself vouchsafed to
honour and reward it."

Yes, how true it is that the shell of the patriarchal

H

98 A LENT IN LONDON.

longing and their eager desire was for the establish-
ing in their own earthly homes, in the valleys and
plains of the fair land where they but lived in tents,
of their numerous posterity — homes of a permanent
freehold character, which they should hold in peace,
none making them afraid ! The kernel of their hopes
was heavenly. But no kernel can come to perfection,
nay, have any existence at all, without its protecting
shell. The shell is large and real and self-evident,
when the kernel is but tiny, delicate, and in the germ.
Their desires were first directed to the beautiful and
comparatively permanent earthly home, and thence
on, by a transference of ideas, to the everlasting
habitations of the world to come.

What, then, become of the teachings of the Church,
based as they mainly should be (with the writer of
the Hebrews) on the reading of New Testament
ideas into the histories of the Old, unless we can
point to earthly abiding- places as pledges and fore-
tastes of the eternal inheritance and the many
mansions of Christian hopes ? The present extra-
ordinary and unparalleled condition of land tenure
in England, brought about gradually through centuries
of past class legislature and class greed, whereby
almost the whole of the farmers and labourers of
England are the mere tenants-at-will of a handful of
their fellows, a very considerable number of them
liable to be dislodged with their families at a week's
notice, is not only eminently undesirable in the
interests of the whole nation, and an economically
false position, but it deprives many a New Testament
parable and apostolic saying, as well as the true
spiritual interpretation of Old Testament narratives,
of their efficacy and force.

Are we dissatisfied with the country life of England
as it now is, with its lack of comfort and stability
for the workers — those husbandmen who should be

COUNTRY LIFE. 99

the first and not the last partakers of its fruits — and
with its ever-dwindling food-supply for the people
who dwell upon its soil ? Do we, after a careful
examination as to the realities of these evils, desire
a better country life ? Why, then we must not let
our yearnings evaporate in mere wishes, or even in
words. We must each of us use all those powers
that our English citizenship has given us, wisely and
well, to try and effect some change. No need of
discouragement, if it does not seem likely to us with
our poor finite judgment, nor hardly possibly that
any very thorough change should come in our own
day or generation ; let us work as the patriarchs did
for the establishment of permanent and happy homes
for those that are to come after. Much, however,
can be at once accomplished by the humane use of
powers now within our grasp, and by the individual
exercise of our humanity. Once we truly desire,
and the battle is half won. Desire, we are told, is
" an eagerness to obtain any good." That is a fine
definition, and desires of that kind cannot fail of
their eventual accomplishment.

Do we " desire a better country, that is, an
heavenly"? Why, then, the New Testament tells
us that we must be full of energy and activity, true
members of the Church militant ; for it is the violent
only, or those who exercise continuous force, that gain
final admission to the kingdom of heaven, the Church
triumphant. Do we desire admission within the
heavenly country ? Why, then, " our conversation "
must be in heaven ; or as it is more faithfully ren-
dered— for this word is represented in the original by
two expressions — " our life of citizenship J> must be of
a heavenly character ; that is, seeking not our own
advantage, but the advantage of others. Twice over did
St. Paul express this truth in his letter to the church
of Philippi ; and surely there is need in these days

ioo A LENT IN LONDON,

for Englishmen, when their rights as citizens have of
late been multiplied (more especially in the country
districts), to be reminded of the golden truth that a
conscientious, unselfish, and truly Christian or Christ-
like exercise of our earthly citizenship, for the general
good of others, is one of the best possible prepara-
tions for the eternal citizenship of the New Jerusalem.

Our desires for a better country in this life may
lead us, when conscientiously and prayerfully followed
out, in diverse directions. To some they may suggest
the arrangement of various necessary public works in
the winter months, direct employment and fair wages
at the hands of district and county councils, labour
bureaus, and other like agencies ; to others the exten-
sion of allotments, and small holdings ; to others
fixity of tenure, fair rents, change in the incidence
of rates, or more drastic legislative remedies than
these ; to others, who have the power, a more generous
treatment and trust of their dependents. But to one
thing an honest desire for betterment cannot lead,
namely, to the sitting down, with our own hands
folded, whilst tongue or pen are employed in the empty
task of criticizing or sneering at the socialistic schemes
of others. There are, alas, not a few amongst us of
no mean intellectual gifts, whose chief contributions
to the terrible problems before us are the belittling
the dangers that others point out, and triumphantly
exposing the exaggerations of which some earnest
souls may occasionally be guilty.

But in whatever direction our own idea of the best
remedy or remedies may run, those ideas and the
actions to which they lead cannot fail to be in some
degree blessed, if we keep clearly before us as Chris-
tians "that the ultimate solution of this social ques-
tion is bound to be discovered in the Person and
Life of Christ. He is 'the Man;' and He must
be the solution of all human problems. That is our

COUNTRY LIFE. 101

primal creed. Not only is He, as the 'Man of
sorrows,' the Brother and Comforter of all who are
weary and heavy laden ; not only are the poor His
peculiar charge and treasure ; but more than that :
He is Himself, in His risen and ascended royalty,
the sum of all human endeavour, the interpretation
of all human history, the goal of all human growth,
the bond of all human brotherhood. It is in this
character that He is kept so little in practical mind ;
it is this office of His which is reserved to such an
obscure and ineffectual background." This should
be realized in all that pertains to the citizenship of
to-day ; in all that we as Christians do or say, write
or read, with regard to the socialism of our times.
If the Christian or the Christ-follower is genuine,
and not a mere mammon-worshipper labelled with
the popular religious name of the century, he will
strive to realize that on him individually, as a
precious and very real baptismal gift, has been
bestowed the indwelling power of the Holy Ghost,
the guide and conscience of his life. To that unseen
power he will appeal when he takes his part in
parish or district or county council, when called
upon to discuss social problems, or when these
problems are thrust upon his attention in the course
of daily life or reading. It is only by thus exercising
his Christian citizenship here, in a prayerful and
serious spirit, that he can expect to enter upon the
pure citizenship of the hereafter.

Let us just notice, in conclusion, the answer of
God, as expressed in the verse from which our text
is taken, to this yearning desire for a better country :
" He prepared for them a city." At first blush this
seems a contradiction to their hopes. But no ; the
fulfilment of the patriarchs* expectation, and the goal
of the clearer perceptions of Christians, is the con-
joined idea of a garden and a city, a paradise and yet

102 A LENT IN LONDON.

a town. Man's life must be a social one here — a life
of interdependence; and so, too, with the renewed life
beyond the grave. Heaven is to be no dream of
absolute rustic seclusion, amid the fairest of blooms
and the sweetest of sounds ; no fencing in of a single
family within either stately park walls, or fragrant
cottage hedgerows. The life that centres round
" God's dwelling-place " is to be a community life ; all
its blessings are to be shared by all ; and if there is not
on our part true brotherhood here, and continuous
and earnest efforts to remove the miserable sur-
roundings of our fellows, there can be for us no
possible admission. The selfish, and those who fight
mainly for their own sordid ends, will inevitably be
shut out, or else the whole of Scripture is a lie !

The holy city is to be fair beyond the power of
words in all its proportions ; the walls of jasper and
the streets of purest gold ; the river of life that flows
through its midst will be clear as crystal ; so pure
and fertilizing will be the atmosphere, that the trees
along the river's brim will bear all manner of fruits
in continuous succession, and its courts will ever
echo with the rhythm of melodious sounds. Nor
can we doubt that all that is purest and best of God-
inspired art will find its abiding-place in the eternal
mansions.

If that, then, is the ideal that God in His revelation
sets before us as the ultimate realization of our hopes,
let us on our part desire, whilst this life is ours, to
make the citizenship of earth a fitting prelude to
this glorious expectation. It becomes those of us
who live in the country to welcome all that is best
of town life in our midst— the higher education, the
attractions of the truest art — as well as earnestly to
strive to turn back the wave of our inner migration
from the town to the country, instead of from the
country to the town. And for you, my brothers,

COUNTRY LIFE. 103

whose life is mainly in the city — this city, the greatest
the world has ever known — to wage an unceasing
warfare with slums and slum-life, both moral and
actual, as well as with all that in its baseness or
its greed creates or maintains the slum-conditions
for your fellows.

Bright gleams of light, that radiate from the New
Jerusalem, where the great King reigns in the ful-
ness of His beauty in the land that is very far off,
sparkle on your horizon amidst much that is threaten-
ing and dark with gloom. The library, the museum,
the art-gallery open to all (and we of the country
envy you such riches as these), as well as open spaces
rescued from the abuse of the few, and consecrated
to the use of the many, bright with fresh flowers
and enlivened with soul-stirring music, — these are all
signs and tokens of the yearning for a better land ;
they are the sacramental externals of your longing
for the true land of promise, with its magnifical and
undying surroundings.

Yes, there are signs all around us, both in country
and in town, of progress and advance; and though
these budding hopes are checked now and again
by the chilling blasts of indifference and greed, it
is that they may take but deeper root before they
shoot forth again with renewed energy and force.
The true progress of the future must recognize the
tripartite nature of man ; it must not be content
with the promotion of healthy conditions of body or
of mental activity, but it must be ready to acknow-
ledge and to aid the soul-yearnings for the better
and more perfected life beyond.

Amidst the strife and clash of human opinion,
one word in a double form, in this the centre of
England's life, has recently come prominently to the
surface — progress and progressive. God forbid that
the word should become the mere appanage of

104 A LENT IN LONDON.

any stereotyped or exclusive views. It is a word
that all conscientious Christ-lovers should desire to
appropriate, whatever may be their convictions on
imperial, or municipal, or local affairs. Stagnation
is devilish, progress is divine ! A desire after better-
ment, or a better country, is God's best gift to sinful
man. Thus says the deepest and most devout of
England's poets —

"Progress is man's distinctive mark alone; not God's and not the

beasts.
He is ; they are ; man partly is, but wholly hopes to be."

CLERK-LIFE.

BY THE

REV. H. C. SHUTTLEWORTH, M.A.,

Rector of St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, and Professor of Pastoral
Theology in King's College, London.

MY text is taken from the daily newspaper — any
newspaper, any day : —

"Wanted, for a London Warehouse, young gentleman of good
address, able to correspond in French and German. Thorough
knowledge of book-keeping. Shorthand preferred. Salary, £$o to
commence.

" Clerk wanted. Smart, active, and quick at figures. Knowledge
of German. Not afraid of work. Salary, 25 s. Apply by letter,
stating age and full particulars.

" Wanted, first-class English, French, and German correspondent
for large export firm in the City. Knowledge of shorthand and slight
Spanish desirable. Opportunity for willingness. Commencing salary,
£60. Apply, personally, between n and I."

I do not propose to speak of what may be described
as the aristocracy of clerk-life, such as bankers1 and
brokers' clerks. I must confine myself to the ordinary
office-clerk of the city, who humbly but efficiently
helps to create much of its wealth, and whose con-
dition of life is fairly indicated by the above
advertisements.

It might reasonably be supposed that men possessed
of the qualifications desired would not be ready to
accept such salaries as those here offered. We should
imagine that a man who had a good knowledge of

io6 A LENT IN LONDON.

modern languages, and was well acquainted with
book-keeping, to say nothing of shorthand, and of
the convenient quality of "willingness," could com-
mand a more adequate living wage than £50 or £60
a year. Yet it is a fact that there were more than
eleven hundred replies to one of these advertisements ;
replies from men of all ages and from almost all
social grades ; from men with University degrees,
and boys just out of school; from clerks out of
employment in London, and from hundreds in the
country, who for the most part were already in work
there, but were bitten with the desire to get to the
great city. A very large proportion were willing to
take less than the salary offered ; some even volun-
teered to do the work for nothing for the first few
months.

It is obvious that the fierce competition which
prevails throughout our industrial life is especially
relentless in regard to the great army of London
office-clerks. The effect is to bring down the rate
of payment to the lowest possible point ; so much
so, that there is even a class of employers who syste-
matically take advantage of those clerks who, for
the sake of getting work, are ready to put in three
months or six months without payment. When the
end of their free time is drawing near, they are
dismissed upon some trifling pretext, and others
take their place on the like terms, to be treated in
due course in the same way. I do not, of course,
mean to say that all, or most, employers are of this
level. I have not lived in the City for twenty years
without discovering how large a proportion of em-
ployers— especially when the firm is not a limited
company — are most considerate and kindly in their
relations with their clerks. In more cases than might
be supposed, something of the old spirit still remains,
which made the master the loyally served chieftain,

CLERK-LIFE. 107

and the clerk the trusted colleague and friend. But
in most instances, the keen pressure of modern com-
petitive conditions renders the " cash-nexus " the main
or the only bond between a clerk and the house he
serves ; while at the same time it narrows to all but
vanishing-point the avenues to such employment.
Our clerks have to compete for their places with
foreigners, who generally have a better acquaintance
with modern languages, a lower standard of living,
less independence, greater capacity for plodding, and
more readiness to work long daily hours, than men
of English birth and English habits. Inevitably, this
foreign competition brings down the rate of wages
all round, while at the same time it tends to raise
the standard of capacity and education.

But the Germans and Swiss are not the only
competitors against the English clerk. He has
lately found his own sisters in the field. Lady-
clerks are in many respects more capable and effi-
cient than men. They are neater and more careful
in their work ; they do not drink or smoke ; they
are quieter and less obtrusive in the office ; and,
speaking generally, they make better servants in all
cases where merely mechanical or routine work is
required ; while before long, when they have gained
further experience, they will be fully qualified to
take the chief places. Many women are already
better qualified than men, as the Government offices
have discovered.

Now, it would be absurd, as well as useless, to
complain of the advance of women into clerk-life as
a grievance or a hardship. Why should not women
earn their living by office-work, if they can do it as
well as or better than men? Moreover, they must
earn it somehow. It is simply a bread-and-butter
question. The struggle for life has driven women
out into the world of work, and they are entitled to

io8 A LENT IN LONDON.

ask for fair play, on equal terms with men. But,
unfortunately, women do not get paid upon equal
terms with men. A clever and capable lady-clerk
will do the same work for half or two-thirds the wage
a man would require. Hence, the result of female
competition is still further to reduce the average
salary of a clerk. There is no pretence of hardship
in the competition of women ; the hardship lies in
the fact that advantage is taken of their fewer needs,
and more frugal ways of living, to pay them less for
similar work — just as in the case of the foreigner.
What is really needed is a living wage for all alike ;
for Englishmen and Englishwomen, no less than for
Germans, Swiss, Swedes, or Danes. As things are,
the girls are taking their brothers' places ; and I know
families where the girls work as clerks, while their
brothers are " out."

When the narrow avenue of entrance upon clerk-
life has been successfully passed, what are the con-
ditions of existence under which a clerk must spend
his time ? It must be confessed that they are neither
very cheerful nor very hopeful. The hours are long,
say from 8.30 to 7 in the lower or general class of
office, for men ; and in times of special pressure they
may have to work far into the night. The following
table refers rather to warehouses than to ordinary
offices, and the four cases taken as examples of a
week's hours are among the worst I have collected
during the last ten years. But I could furnish many
which are almost as bad.

A. — Commencing at 8 a.m.

Monday, 8 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Tuesday „ 12 ,,
Wednesday ,, 12 ,,
Thursday ,, 10 „
Friday „ 10.30

Frequently as late as I a.m., and occasionally 2.30 a.m

CLERK-LIFE. 109

B.

Monday, 8 a.m. to 9.30 p.m.
Tuesday ,, n ,,
Wednesday ,, n ,,
Thursday „ II ,,
Friday „ 10 ,,

B. left on account of refusing to work after II p.m.

C.

Monday, 8.30 a.m. to 8.30 p.m.
Tuesday ,, 12 ,,
Wednesday ,, 12 ,,
Thursday „ 9-3° >»

Friday ,, 9 ,,

Average time for five months in the year. Working to midnight
quite a common occurrence.

D. — Commencing at 7*45-
Monday, 7.45 a.m. to 8.30 p.m.
Tuesday ,, 11.30 ,,

Wednesday „ II ,,
Thursday ,, 10 ,,
Friday „ 9 „

Frequently worked up to midnight.

Often the clerk's office is ill-ventilated, and gas-
lighted during the greater part of the day. The
stooping position, and the sedentary nature of his
labour, are not good for his health or his eyes. More-
over, the work of an office is not of a character in
which ordinary men and women can take any real
interest. An exact calculating or scribbling machine
could do it as well. Certainly in this case the labourer
can have but little joy in his work ; though a con-
scientious clerk will even find some pleasure in the
neatness, accuracy, and despatch with which his me-
chanical task is accomplished. But for the average
clerk, the dreadful drudgery and dulness of his daily
work and surroundings must have their inevitable
effect upon character. We cannot be surprised if the
average man seeks relief and excitement in betting
and gambling, finds some solace in drink, or looks
for his society in the bars or in the streets. Some

no A LENT IN LONDON.

interesting papers were published a year or two back
in the British Weekly, under the rather claptrap title
of " Tempted London." The writers of these sketches
got together a vast amount of information, very
accurate on the whole, as to the conditions of clerk-
life. But I cannot agree with them in their low
estimate of the general tone of morality among the
clerks of the City, in the midst of whom I have lived
and worked for the past twenty years. There are
good, bad, and indifferent among them, as there are
in any other class of men and women. But I believe
the general tone is very much higher than was indi-
cated by the able Nonconformist weekly. I have been
amazed to find what a good fellow the city clerk is,
take him all round. He has his faults, of course, like
the rest of us. But though his surroundings are less
squalid and hideous than those of an East-End or
South-London slum, they are dull and dismal to a
degree that makes some of us fearful that, in the same
environment, we should develop a less creditable
average than the ordinary clerk.

And for this species of crank-labour, what recom-
pense ? Well, if our clerk is lucky, he may rise to a
salary of ;£i2O, even £150, a year. If he is less for-
tunate, he may find himself out of employment at
more or less frequent intervals, at the close of which
he may have to begin again at the foot of the ladder.
And when he grows old, he finds, to his bitter sorrow,
that an old clerk, like an old curate, is of less value
in the market than a young one ; that he is not
wanted, that competition leaves no room for him.
He may be married, for clerks do marry on ^100 a
year, their wives doing a little dressmaking or mil-
linery, or addressing envelopes and wrappers at three
shillings or so the thousand, to add to the scanty in-
come. Sometimes a firm, after a bad season's trade,
will cut down expenses by ruthlessly dismissing

CLERK- LIFE. in

older servants who have the largest salaries, and
putting- younger men in their places at a smaller
"screw." The clerk has seldom any future before
him ; he thinks himself fortunate if he can only keep
the position and the pittance he has obtained. For
such as he, there is no career in this country ; and it
is not surprising to learn that South Africa is absorb-
ing more and more young fellows from the City, and
from elsewhere also, as the struggle grows fiercer
year by year. I would not have it supposed that I
believe the common cant against u early marriages."
On the contrary, I would gladly see more of our
young clerks married, at an even earlier age than is
customary. But, then, they must be content to accept
a labourer's standard of living, to send their children
to the Board School, and to renounce the heresy of
the top-hat for good and all. They must choose, in
fact, between " maintaining their position," while
shut out from the happiness of home life, and entering
upon the latter at the cost of sacrificing the former.
Often, indeed, such a choice is not open to them, for
many business houses rigidly apply the test of the
top-hat and the frock-coat to their clerks.

It cannot be considered creditable to our London
life that so large a number of men and women are
compelled to an existence such as I have outlined.
Yet I have no cut-and-dried remedy to propose, no
short-and-easy solution of the problem to suggest.
The symptoms are obvious to even a casual observer ;
the causes lie deep in the social and economic con-
ditions of our present complex life. Emigration, so
confidently put forward as a remedy in some quarters,
may be well enough for individuals, though probably
those who get on well in South Africa are just the
men who would have done well at home ; but emigra-
tion does not and cannot touch the problem itself.
The successful emigrant clerk leaves that behind him,

H2 A LENT IN LONDON.

and the failure returns to it. Palliatives there may
be, and at one or two of these I will glance in con-
clusion.

i. Some sort of organization among clerks might
possibly do for them what the Trade Unions have
done for the working-men of England. There is,
indeed, a Clerks' Union ; but the conditions are far
more complex and difficult than those which prevail
in regard to the organization of skilled labour. So
long as the army of unemployed clerks, and of those
seeking to become clerks, is so gigantic, there is little
to be done by this means. Perhaps the most that
can be hoped for is preparation for future action. In
such a case, organization is always strength.

2. Something might be done in the way of extend-
ing the principle of the Factory Acts, or the Shop
Hours Labour Acts, to offices and warehouses. But
unless a careful system of inspection is adopted, such
legislation will be a dead letter; just as Sir John
Lubbock's first Shop Hours Act was in danger of
becoming, had not a small number of determined
men formed themselves into a committee, employed
inspectors of their own, and instituted prosecutions, so
saving the Act, and ultimately securing its extension.

3. The writer in the British Weekly was entirely
right when he pointed out that parents are largely to
blame for the present state of things. It is absolutely
true that among average middle-class parents " there
is too much regard for ' the office,' and an exaggerated
contempt for ' trade.' ' School-teachers can tell us
what it is which such parents desire for their children ;
not education, in any real sense, but quickness at
figures, and similar clerical qualifications. I have no
hesitation in saying that a clerk would do better to
make his son an artisan, or a tram-car driver, than let
him follow his own calling. Let parents in the country
do all they can to keep their children there, rather

CLERK-LIFE. 113

than send them to swell the competing horde of ill-
paid London clerks ; and above all, let them never
allow their sons to come here " on spec," on the off-
chance of getting employment. Better, far better, let
them work in the shop or the fields at home.

4. Much may be done in the direction of brighten-
ing and elevating clerk-life by the foundation of clubs,
open to men and women alike, on the lines of the
institution which, as many of you know, I have spent
my best years in establishing not far from this church.
Most of the societies and institutions for young people
fail, to my thinking, owing to the narrow and dis-
trustful lines upon which they are conducted ; pro-
viding rather what their promoters think young
people ought to want, than what, as a fact, young
people do want. I trust that the success of the St.
Nicholas Club may lead to the establishment of many
like institutions. But they must be small, not too
large, or they will fail of their main objects.

I have given a lecture rather than a sermon. But
I do not think that, on that account, what has been
said is out of harmony with the aim and objects of a
Christian Social Union, or with the teaching of that
Divine Master, Who spent the greater portion of His
earthly life in ministering to the common needs of
His human brothers.

CIVIC DUTIES.

BY THE

REV. CANON BARNETT, M.A.,
Warden of Toynbee Hall.

" Jerusalem is built as a city which is at unity with itself." — Ps, cxxii. 3.

I.

A FOLLOWER of Christ is always duty bound. He
is here to serve. He is a man with a mission.

A Christian cannot say, "I will do what I like
with my own ; I can enjoy my life or end my life."
Christians glory in being their brother's keeper, and
are always about their Father's business. Christians,
because of this consciousness of social membership,
have always looked on to a kingdom, a church, or a
city.

Buddhists look to dreamless ease, to release from
the toil of loving ; Mohammedans look to a paradise,
a garden of delight, an eternity of being served ;
Christians look to the new Jerusalem, to the city of
God, with its busy crowds, its complex duties, its
grandeur and its glory.

What men hope for, that they become, and men are
what their aspirations are. What men look for, that
they work for, and prophets try to establish their own
prophecies.

CIVIC DUTIES. 115

Nations whose golden age is in the past make no
progress, and history concerns itself only with people
who strive to reach ideals beyond their grasp.

c< Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay."

Christians who hope for a city of God, who look
to a society whose members will live by loving —
Christians with this ideal are always trying to make
a state, a Church, a city, after its likeness. They
vote, they serve public offices, they are generous, that
they may make London, Bristol, Manchester, their
city, like the city to which they look. They, when
they are about the city's business, are about their
Father's business.

But many who call themselves Christian neglect
civic duties. They serve, perhaps, their Church, they
are members of some charitable society, but they are
indifferent to the city government.

This neglect is, I believe, largely due to the absence
of a social ideal. Practical modern men have no
visions such as those of Isaiah, St. John, or Rienzi.
They have no modern equivalent to the holy
mountain where the lion and the lamb lie together,
or to the city into which nothing enters that defileth
or maketh a lie. They have no pattern city in the
heavens, and therefore do not strive to make its
likeness on earth.

Modern teaching does not sufficiently cultivate the
imagination. It holds that the chief thing is to be
practical ; that the boy of fifteen must take up the
technical or business training of his life ; that there is
no time to develop powers of dreaming, and that the
use of the imagination, in pictures, music, and poetry,
is a luxury for the rich and idle. Art has no place
in industrial education ; it is not taken seriously.

The teaching is wrong ; the imagination has a ma-
terial use. " It was for want of imagination England

ii6 A LENT IN LONDON.

lost America," and it is for the same want that mer-
chants and workmen now miss their opportunities.
In commerce the visible is not the eternal result.
It is by faith that business is made, and haste for
immediate gain often destroys trade. It is, too, for
want of the trained imagination that so many Chris-
tians neglect their civic duties. They have no social
ideal to which Christ directs their march, no city in
the heaven carefully fashioned by thought.

Some, therefore, waste their strength as they cry
for a state possible perhaps in the moon, and elabo-
rate schemes which shrivel up under a moment's cross-
examination. Such good people sacrifice, indeed,
their Isaacs and hinder God's promises.

Some settle in suburbs far off from the call to duty
which rises from the ill. housed and the ill fed. They
think most of their rights, demand the service of
the local boards to secure their quiet, and keep off
hospitals and the poor from their doors. They take
short leases, and escape trouble by moving. "A
modern city is the embodiment of indefinite change,
and citizens make idols of their domestic privacy and
private luxuriousness." Many do no civic duties, and
satisfy Christ's inspired instincts by gifts to the poor
more or less carefully adjusted to their income.

And of the few who nobly serve the city, many find
the service dull and weary. They serve because it is
a duty, not because they are constrained by an in-
visible power to an invisible end, and "he gives
nothing but worthless gold who gives from a sense
of duty/'

The failure comes because modern Christians have
not elaborated an ideal of Christian society. They
use old ideals formed in other times, and talk of a
Church, of a heaven, but are not moved thereby.
Ideals must be fashioned out of present experience.
The city in heaven must rest on the earth. Things

CIVIC DUTIES. 117

we hope for must be made out of things we know.
The imagination must work with the actual.

Let us, therefore, spend a few minutes in thinking
out a society, a city, in which men with our experience
and our knowledge might live Christ's life. If we see
beyond the bound of the waste, the city of God, we
shall surely work to establish London in its likeness.
We shall serve our city. Our civic duties will be our
religious duties ; our liturgies will be not only those
sung by choirs, but, as in the Greek city, liturgies
will again mean the performance by the citizens of
public duties. A pure liturgy, as St. James says, is
others' service.

How, then, shall we think of the city of the future ?
It is a city which is at unity with itself.

i. Its past will be at unity with its present. They
who walk the streets in one age will be familiar with
those who, in past ages, shaped the streets and wrote
their thoughts in stone. They will know how the
city grew — by what enterprise, by what suffering, by
what sacrifice, by what failure. They will move about
the streets encompassed by a crowd of witnesses, de-
termined themselves to do something worthy of their
surroundings. They will talk of Caesar, Charlemagne,
Alfred, and Cromwell, rather than of athletes, mil-
lionaires, and music-hall singers. Their bookstalls
will be loaded with books which chasten and kindle,
rather than with " bits " and " sketches " which con-
found, their intelligence. They will be interested in
the growth of thought, and keen to admire what is
beautiful. Their minds will be nourished on the
Bible, on Shakespeare, and on Plato, rather than on
the writings of the realists of the human dustbin.
They will be concerned that their public buildings
and monuments shall be noble and impressive, their
private houses pure and simple ; so that every one,
in the common possession of splendid and historic

IJS A LENT IN LONDON.

monuments, may have the self-respect which comes
to a citizen who is of no mean city.

In the Christian ideal society there will be no
ignorant classes, no division between the educated
and uneducated ; none low for want of a high calling,
none mean for want of noble traditions, none dull for
want of interest. Knowledge will flow over the whole
as the waters cover the sea.

2. The city will have its parts at unity with one
another. The East End and the West End will be
equally attractive, equally well lighted, cleansed, and
built. Every part will have its bountiful streams of
waters flowing through the public baths, and making
lakes in the parks. Everywhere the air will be so
clear that flowers will bloom on the window-ledges.
Every child will have its playground in the sunshine,
and every old person his season for quiet enjoyment.
Workrooms will be as healthy as drawing-rooms.
Hospitals will be arranged for the convenience of
the sick ; libraries, museums, and music-halls for the
recreation of the strong. Unity in a city is im-
possible where, as in East London, the buildings
are mean, the streets ill kept and ill lighted ; where
children have to play in the gutter, and the old
linger in the dirt and noise-laden air ; where cleanli-
ness is an impossible luxury.

In the Christian city there will be no division
between east and west, between the washed and un-
washed, no rich or poor quarter ; all the citizens will
have equal opportunities for growth, for enjoyment,
for cleanliness, and for quiet.

3. The people of the city will be at unity together.
All will co-operate in its keeping and making. It
will no longer be that some will give and others
take ; that a few leaders and officials collect and
direct the expenditure of taxes, while the mass of the
citizens are absorbed in private concerns. In the

CIVIC DUTIES. 119

Christian city all will give of their thought and
their time — workmen, professional people, merchants,
tradesmen, women. They will thus feel that the
city is their own ; they will see in its grandeur and
activities their own wills writ large. Each individual
will have a dignity, a moral and religious fervour, as,
having given his service, he looks around on the
glory and says, " This is mine."

There will be in the Christian society no governed
and governing classes. No outside body like the
slaves of the ancient city, like the melancholy hands
who pass from factory to sleeping-place along the
streets of a modern city. In the Christian city each
will be bound to all, and all to each.

Thus I suggest, as a Christian ideal fit for the
time, the thought of a city at unity with itself. But
I suggest only that you may think. A man's own
thoughts are better than those he borrows.

Think, therefore, you who acknowledge yourselves
to be members of Christ ; you who, as His followers,
are sent to be saviours and helpers — " to create a
household and a fatherland, a city and a state."
Shape in your minds the city where Christ will reign.
Piece it together out of your greater knowledge of
men and manners, of wants and remedies, of ways
and means, as St. John out of his limited knowledge
pieced together the new Jerusalem. Build in thought,
out of the materials which lie around, an ideal of a
Christian society. What you look for, that you will
try to make. The artist is constrained to force out of
the hard marble the vision which is before his mind.
If you have before your mind a pattern city, then
you will be constrained to make this city its copy.
Civic duties will become religious duties. You will
give up private ends to work on boards and councils,
repeating in your hearts that cry which has always
moved the world, " I must ; it is the will of God."

i2o A LENT IN LONDON.

II.

Yesterday I tried to draw the thoughts of my
hearers to a city at unity with itself. I encouraged
them to imagine — using the material around — an ideal
city. Virtue, as Jowett says, flows from ideals. " But,"
he adds, " most men live in a corner, and see but a little
way beyond their own home or place of occupation.
They do not ' lift up their eyes to the hills ; ' they are
not awake when the dawn appears." Yesterday I
tried, from the tower of speculation, to suggest the city
of the future. It was good for the disciples to see
their Master transfigured. It is good for us to see
our city transfigured, its organization and its govern-
ment fitted to the Christian life. But it is not good
only to stand and gaze.

Below the mountain where Christ was transfigured
were His mean and suffering brother-men. In front
of disciples pleading to stay and worship, was the dull
drudgery of daily doing. It is not enough to have
ideals ; we must act. A vision is good for stirring
the pulses, for rousing the enthusiasm, but it is
work which wins the victory. Love precedes labour ;
but if love is worthy, labour follows.

Early in the century a few workmen saw a vision
of trades unionism. They felt the impulse and started
a great movement ; but the victory of trades unionism
has been won by painstaking and detail-loving
secretaries and officials.

Dante and the poets saw in their dreams United
Italy. They roused the hopes and passions of their
countrymen ; but it was the daily doing — the hard
drudgery of Cavour, Mazzini, and Garibaldi — which
made Italy.

We may have visions of an ideal social state,
we may be roused by the thought of a society in
which Christ will live ; but it is quiet doing — patient

CIVIC DUTIES. 121

reformers — plodding patriots, who will make the new
city.

For many reasons, steady, dull work has become
distasteful. Burdens once borne by men are now
borne by machinery ; pain has been eased by skill ;
life has been made smoother. There is not the same
call to effort, the same stimulus to activity ; there are
more attractions for leisure, more possibilities of
pleasure. Men regard work as hardship ; they resent
the restraint of daily doing, and look for short cuts to
idleness, and heroic remedies in difficulties. A real
danger of our time is dislike of drudgery. Citizens
let go the helm of government, because it is trying to
hold on through long seasons of calms. They will
not patiently day by day go into details, because the
work is dull.

Now, the whole force of religious motive has gone
into sweeping a room, and made the act divine. And
the whole force of religious motive may also go into
the smallest and meanest of civic duties.

Christians inspired by Christ look for a city where
there will be room for loving, and they are driven to
take it by force ; but Christians are also restrained by
Christ. They are made to watch and wait ; to gather
up the fragments ; to go home and be subject to its
common duties.

Christ who rouses and makes men glow, is also
Christ who holds men back and puts the would-be
hero to serve a child. He constrains and He also
restrains. The Founder of the kingdom of heaven
is the Preacher of the Beatitudes. He who wore a
crown bore a yoke.

We are Christians in a Christian land. We are
eager to live our Master's life — keen to shape a
city where nothing shall hinder, and all shall help,
that life. Fire is in our hearts, passion is aglow,
as we think of what may be, of what shall be. But

122 A LENT IN LONDON.

that fire and that passion must be put into daily
drudgery.

What must we do ?

1. Every one should learn about the government
of his own city. Few here, I expect, could pass a
simple examination in the functions of guardians and
vestrymen, or in the work of London boards and coun-
cils. Few know the powers in their own hands to
straighten the path of the poor, to open the eyes of
the ignorant, to heal the sick and comfort the sad.

Every one, therefore, should master one of the many
books which give the information ; every one should
ask questions till he knows who is responsible for
making the city pleasant for habitation, and a help to
its inhabitants in living a Christian life.

If every one had this knowledge, strength would not
be wasted in vain grumbling at neglect or at abuse.
Every one knowing his part in the government, the
grumble would only awake the echo, " Thou art the
man." Neither would strength be so often diverted
to sectional efforts, religious or philanthropic. They
who knew their power to shape a state would not so
readily start a society, or dissent from the nation to
make a Church in the nation. The masters of the
whole country have no need of preserves.

Let, then, Christians set themselves to learn how
the city is governed. The duty is not duller than
that done by saints who copied manuscripts ; it is not
greater drudgery than is done by missionaries who
learn the Chinese alphabet. Let Christians whose
thoughts glow, thinking of what they will do, just
quietly learn what they can do.

2. Let every one consider what qualities are
wanted in city rulers. Integrity, industry, intelligence,
good will, perseverance. Yes, but rarer and more
important are business qualities. A strange com-
bination is the good man of business. There are

CIVIC DUTIES. 123

many imitation business men. These put punctuality
before charity, accuracy before truth, doing before
service. They pay regard to figures, and treat reports
as sacred ritual. They are ready to measure up
heaven with a foot-rule. They have put on some of
the business man's clothes ; but the real good man of
business is he who by adventure and caution, by
spending and by saving, by use of imagination and by
care of detail, by knowledge of men and by power of
control, creates and directs vast operations. These
are the men who have made the wealth of England.
These are the men who made the greatness of the
mediaeval cities, who directed their broad policy and
ordered their magnificent growth. Such men are
still in our midst, but rarely among the city rulers ;
and it is, perhaps, bad business rather than a bad
system which makes local government so costly and
improvement so difficult.

Artists and artisans, professional men and traders,
men and women of high purpose, are wanted ; but
Christ calls also the merchant princes to leave their
own offices, and put some of the power by which they
make fortunes into making a city. He calls those to
whom he has given talents for organizing and for
creating, to use them on boards and councils. He
calls the successors of the Canynges, the Heriots,
the Greshams, to establish a city in the twentieth
century worthy of the world's greater knowledge and
more worthy of our Christian profession.

3. Every one must be willing to fill a city office.
It is often remarked that the same names recur as
justices, guardians, councillors, vestrymen. A com-
paratively small number of persons fill all the offices
of government. This ought not to be. This would
not be, if Christians felt called by Christ to civic
duties ; if they looked to a city where men and things
would be ordered according to His will ; if they heard

124 A LENT IN LONDON.

Christ telling them to be vestrymen, guardians, coun-
cillors, as plainly as St. Paul heard the call to preach,
or Luther the order to take his stand, or Joan of Arc
the command to arm and lead the soldiers of the
king.

Christ does so call. He opens our eyes to see at
hand a kingdom of heaven, a city of God. He rouses
us, as we watch the melancholy faces of the poor, as
we hear the cry of the unemployed, as we walk the
depressing streets of East London and meet broken
men and women — human beings crushed in human
machinery — to force the way for a society in which His
spirit may have full play. He kindles our hopes for
a city in which all shall speak thoughts learnt from
God, and all see visions revealed now only to the few ;
in which there shall be no more an infant of days,
nor an old man that hath not filled his days ; in which
none shall hurt nor destroy. Christ shows us what
may be. At our doors are the means of making the
may-be the must-be. A place on a local board, or
membership in a society, is the weapon ready forged
for the knight of modern days. With this he may
cut down abuses and open the way for what is good.
Any one can take up such a weapon.

Christ calls from His city, and pointing to the
road He trod and the cross He bore, tells us in
patience to do the next thing, to take up the weapon
which is ready, the duty which lies at our hand — any
humble service in shaping the city we live in to be
the city of His people.

4. Above boards and councils is public opinion.
Every individual is its maker. By his talk, by his
acts, by his thoughts, each individual is helping to
raise up a ruler who will bless or curse his city. It is
not Acts of Parliament, nor boards, nor councils, which
now rule ; it is the conduct, the words, the deeds of
citizens, the makers of public opinion.

CIVIC DUTIES. 125

The civic duty, therefore, which lies on every one is
to think clearly what is wanted if the city life is to
represent the Christian life ; to restrain himself from
all extravagant talk in abuse or in hope ; to live
decently, soberly, and honestly; to be reverent in
the presence of things above, of things equal and of
things beneath ; to despise no one and to be despised
by no one; to take' no bribes and surrender no rights;
to protest against smoke, dirt, ugliness ; to boldly
rebuke vice ; to help with heart and purse some one
neighbour who is wretched and poor. Thus may
every one make a public opinion more powerful for
righteousness than any king.

And if, hearing this, some one says, " O Lord, I
would do some great thing, upset some abuse, inau-
gurate some reform ; I would exalt Thy name," the
answer surely comes, " Inasmuch as ye did it to the
least of these, ye did it unto Me ; " and the loyal fol-
lower will go home to set there an example of godly
life, and for others' sake try " to think clearly, feel
deeply, and bear fruit well."

Enthusiasm and drudgery are the means by which
great ends are achieved. Christ from the right hand
of God rouses enthusiasm, Christ from the cross
points to the long path of drudgery. Christians stand-
ing on Immanuers land look into the city where their
Master rules, and then take up their cross. Christians
are at once kings and servants, enthusiasts and
drudges. There can be no advance to that city, no
realization here of the Christian society, unless Chris-
tians endure hardship, rebuke, and disappointment as
they try to fashion things that are after the likeness
of things that shall be. But they who believe in their
Master have the enthusiasm which can endure the
drudgery of inconvenient meetings, of weary commit-
tees, of working the heavy machinery by which the
city is slowly improved. They have the faith which

126 A LENT IN LONDON.

can transfigure civic duties into religious service, and
patience into passion. They will go down from the
mount of transfiguration, from the vision of the glorified
and glistering city, not to cry and shout, as if abuses
would fall as the walls of Jericho fell. They will go
rather to take up some neglected duty, some unnoticed
work, and persist, without praise or profit, without
striving or crying, content if they may add some one
out-of-sight brick to the city, which under the Master's
hand is surely and silently growing.

WHAT THE CHURCH MIGHT DO
FOR LONDON.

BY THE

REV. STEWART D. HEADLAM, B.A.,
Author of " The Laws of Eternal Life," etc.

WHAT the Church has done for London might
perhaps have been a better title. For we want no
new or sensational methods, only for the Church to
persevere in her own proper work.

I. The first thing, then, the Church has to do is,
in the face of competing sects and class distinctions,
to bear witness to the essential equality and unity of
the whole people. This she does by means of her
sacrament of Infant Baptism. She asserts that the
Head of every man is Christ. That it is Christ Who is
the Head, and that it is of every man that He is the
Head. Every little human being born into London
is claimed as being the equal with every other little
human being. No matter whether the parents be
rich or poor, good or bad, pious or worldly ; the little
baby, simply on the ground of its humanity, is
claimed to be a member of Christ, the child of God,
and a present inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.
Religious people who would separate men into sects
grounded upon certain opinions as to Church govern-
ment or Christian doctrine, are borne witness against
by this simple sacrament. So, too, are those who

128 A LENT IN LONDON.

would divide Londoners into classes — a lower class
which is brutalized, a middle class which is vulgarized,
and an upper class which is materialized. And this
witness to the essential equality of our people is
borne, not merely by advanced clergymen with all
sorts of new and liberal views, but by the quietest,
most humdrum pastor who ever stuck to his parish
work and never went on platforms, provided he
searches for the babes of his flock, and has them
brought as infants to the font. Our unhappy divisions
into religious sects and social classes stand condemned
in the light of this sacrament.

The best thing the Church could do for London
would be for every minister to be diligent in ad-
ministering this sacrament, and for the people to be
active and intelligent appreciators of it.

2. The second thing which the Church might do
for London would be to continue to make much, and
much more than it has during the last three centuries,
of the Holy Communion. To restore it to its own
proper place as the one great central Christian service.
The service not merely for the specially religious or
the ultra-pious, but for ordinary work-a-day men
and women. For this great sacrament, as the Holy
Communion, tells men that they are brothers, not
merely at church or in religion, but in politics, labour,
and life generally. As the Lord's Supper, it calls upon
them to be active in every emancipating work for
mankind, just as the yearly Passover supper was the
festival of the Hebrew emancipation ; as the Holy
Eucharist, it tells us that our God is a God of joy
and gladness, — it sanctifies amusements, and conse-
crates the amusers ; as the Mass, it tells us of sacrifice,
and unites us with our fellow- Churchmen throughout
Christendom.

And so what the Church might do for London
would be for her parish priests to be giving them-

THE CHURCH AND LONDON. 129

selves continually to this very thing— not relegating
it to a corner, or letting it be supplanted by eloquent
sermons, or glorified Matins, but making much of it
in every way ; and for her people, the whole body
of the baptized, to be crowding to their Communions
three times a year, and bringing themselves, their
joys and their sorrows, their private, their social,
their political life, as often as may be, into the Real
Presence of Christ.

It is curious that all sorts of experiments for the
regeneration of London have been tried — teetotalism,
mothers' meetings, drum-and-fife bands, and what
not ; but that even still in very few churches has the
Eucharist been put into its proper, prominent, legiti-
mate place.

3. And next, the Church in London might see, as
of old, to the shepherding of the lambs of its flock.
The Catechism and its rubrics make it abundantly
clear that it is the business of the Church to see that
the full definite principles of the Catholic Faith are
taught to the children. This is a matter which the
Church in London lately has grossly neglected ;
instead of attending to it, a majority of her members
have been urging the State to take into her un-
commissioned hands the manipulating of our holy
religion, and have rejoiced unspeakably in that they
have got the State to undertake the duty of teaching
one and a half of the great Christian doctrines to
her children. This cannot possibly give permanent
satisfaction. And therefore, if London is to become
a real city of God, while the State rightly claims her
right to give secular schooling to the children, the
Church must also claim her right, which the State
is perfectly willing to concede, of teaching them
the great principles of the Catholic Faith. Ail
your material reforms — ay, even if you again have
salmon in the Thames and London clean — cannot

K

130 A LENT IN LONDON.

be permanent, I doubt even whether they can be
achieved, if the Church neglects this paramount duty
to all her children.

Think what a different London we should have
had by this time if it had been taught effectually to
all alike, that it is the duty which each one owes
to his neighbour to learn and labour truly to get his
own living ; if London, instead of consisting of beggars
and robbers living on the workers, was a city of
healthy, happy workers only. The manipulated
Christian religion leaves these truths in the back-
ground. The Church — bishops, clergy, and people
alike — if they really want to help London, should
arouse themselves to active mental fight and organi-
zation, in order that they may make the education
of the young in the principles of the Catholic Faith
a primary charge on their time, money, and energy.

4. I have called your attention to these three
elementary functions of the Christian Church, these
three primary duties which the Church has to every
city in which she is planted, because there seems to
be a serious danger lest their paramount importance
should be overlooked, or lest men should be led to
think that the social work of the Church could in
any way be separated from them. If the Church
neglects her duty to London in these matters ; if
she does not make much of the two greatest of the
seven sacraments ; if she leaves to an uncommissioned
School Board the duty of teaching the principles of
the Christian religion to her children ; the Church
can never have that emancipating influence in London,
or anywhere else, which she is intended to have. But
when this elementary, primary, paramount work is
done, the rest follows as a matter of course, and, as
a matter of course, men and women are found to
hand to do it.

On the other hand, if all sorts of schemes and

THE CHURCH AND LONDON. 131

plans for material or social reform are put before
the making much of the sacraments and the mainte-
nance of definite Christian doctrine, then I fear the
schemes and plans will be wanting in coherence and
permanency. Men will first try this and then that ;
they will have kindled their own fire, and have walked
surrounded with the sparks which they have kindled,
but finally they will lie down in sorrow.

It is more important for the Church to be giving
to Londoners a reasonable, permanent, theological
basis for their emancipating work, than even to be
taking an active part in the details of that work.
We have a right to call upon men to face the question
as to what foundation their work rests upon ; as to
why they should go on working for the democracy,
when the people for whom they are working appa-
rently care very little for them ; or spending their
lives for progress, when half their colleagues identify
progress with petty personal interference and tyranny.

The sacramental and theological foundation of all
this is laid in every Baptism, every Holy Communion,
and in the simple teaching of the Church Catechism.
The laying of this foundation is the most important
thing which the Church can do for London ; there-
fore many a parish priest or quiet congregation, who
would not dream of joining the Christian Social
Union, is co-operating with us. And on the other
hand, no amount of ecclesiastical or social fireworks
will bring as much benefit to London as the laying
of this sacramental and theological foundation would
bring.

On the other hand, every kind of emancipating
work should be built on this foundation. It is the
business of the Church in London to help to let the
oppressed go free, and to break every yoke. The
organization of labour, the sweeping away of slums,
the providing of open spaces, the purifying of our

132 A LENT IN LONDON.

river, — all these and such-like matters the Church
will take an active part in supporting. The injustice
under which the enormous value given to the land
in London by the community, by industrious workers
and traders, is monopolized by a few, will be per-
sistently attacked. The early age at which children
leave school, the too-long hours for which they have
to work, and the dangerous way in which for a few
short years they thrust the elder adults out of the
labour market, and then, having only been taught,
say, to make the twentieth part of a chair, or the
tenth part of a boot, they sink into the ranks of the
unemployed, soon after they are married, and other
youngsters take their place, — these are matters to
which, for the sake of London, the Church might
devote serious thought.

And the blackleg, too, with all your zeal for organ-
ized industry, he must not be outside the Church's
sympathy ; for what is he but the victim of land
monopoly in the country, forced off the soil, imported
into London, to ruin, if it may be, organized labour ?

The emancipation of all these, and of their organ-
izers or employers, who are themselves competing
one against the other, it is for the Church to bring
about by thinking clearly and acting fearlessly.

It is easy enough to dream beautiful dreams of
what London might be, it is too fatally easy to
fling wild words against this or that individual or
class ; what the Church has to do is to recognize
that we are all more or less in a tangle, to seek out
the cause of it, and to work very steadily at the
removal of the cause.

But the Church's emancipating work must be seen
in other spheres besides the industrial. The misery
caused by modern anarchic systems of industry, and
by the monopoly of the great means of production,
is terrible ; but there are plain signs that order is

THE CHURCH AND LONDON. 133

beginning to take the place of anarchy, and that the
monopoly is doomed. It is the Church's work to
help to bring about that order and to hasten that
doom.

But it is also the Church's work to deliver men
from others who would bind on them heavy burdens
grievous to be borne ; and some of those who are most
eager about industrial emancipation are equally eager
to enforce a personal interference with the lives and
pleasures of the people which may soon become
intolerable. From this — the Puritan tyranny — it is
the duty of the Church to help to deliver London.

The Puritan attack on the public-house, the music-
hall, and the frank though restrained life of the
senses, is obviously the result of a non-sacramental
training ; and the Churchman is bound to say, " The
singers and the dancers, yea, and all my fresh founts
of joy, shall be in Thee."

A spiritual as well as an industrial emancipation
for London would thus naturally follow from a loyalty
to the Church's doctrines and sacraments.

CHRISTIAN CHARITY.

BY THE

REV. PREBENDARY HARRY JONES, M.A.

" Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor . . . and have not
charity, it profiteth me nothing." — I COR. xiii. 3.

THERE are many words which bear a double sense.
Two are attached to "charity." St. Paul, in my
text, speaks of one which prevailed in his own time,
and has survived to ours, often to the exclusion of
any other, viz. the bestowal of alms, in the shape
of money, food, or clothing. This is the popular
meaning given to the word now. It appears in such
terms as "charitable institution/' "charity school,"
" charity blankets," and " charity sermon," which is
an appeal for money to help the " poor." Indeed, so
widely is this sense of the word accepted, that we
have a " Charity Organization Society " (an excellent
one, by the way) formed for the purpose of enabling
generous people to relieve such as are in real distress.
The Bible has much to say about this kind of charity.
Some of it appears in sentences read from the Old
Testament before a collection of the offertory in
church, and we hear of it plainly from the lips of our
Lord Himself. No one denies the value of material
donations to the needy, nor the duty of making them,
especially by those who (as people say) are " blessed "
with the good things of this world.

But St. Paul, in an exhaustive definition of charity,

CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 135

takes an extreme case, and puts the popular meaning
of this word on one side, as imperfect. He gives
another sense to it. The bountiful donor, imagined
by him, who lacked charity, would hardly be welcomed
by the Judge in the day of Doom.

The Apostle, indeed, be it remarked, does not decry
a bodily helping of the poor. He himself laboured
with his own hands that he might minister, not
merely to his own necessities, but to those of such
as were with him. But he looks at the motive of
the giver ; and surely this must involve a perception
of the best way in which we may benefit the receiver.
Thus we may come to apprehend the nature of
" Christian charity/' The love of God is not shared
by the donor unless his help be given " cheerfully,"
without grudging complaint at being asked to give,
or protest against the exacting troublesomeness of
the poor as being to blame for their poverty. He
must help with some exercise of His spirit Who knows
what things we have need of before we ask Him.

Now in inquiring how we should give, several
thoughts suggest themselves. Let me dispose of at
least one. All allow that sometimes help has un-
avoidably to be given openly, or on a large scale,
when contributions are invited towards the support
of some good work which ignorance of details, or
want of personal opportunities, prevents a man from
helping in private. In this case, moreover, he may
receive praise of men, without forfeiting his right to
be acting with true charity. This was recognized
when distribution was made to the needy at Jeru-
salem, and givers laid their money at the Apostles'
feet. The donation, e.g., of Joses, a Levite, and of
the country of Cyprus (they called him, indeed, the
" son of consolation "), was openly made, and specially
acknowledged by the Church. Nevertheless, in most
cases, the rule of Jesus must be remembered, and

136 A LENT IN LONDON.

how He said, " When thou doest an alms, let not
thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth."
This secrecy has a double use. It bars an appetite
for praise in the donor, and spares the self-respect
of the recipient, who is led to look on the gift as the
act of a friend, not that of a patron. Moreover, it is
advisable, as checking greedy clamour for alms, and
thwarting a concourse of beggars.

But, in the face of permanent destitution, very
little good seems to be done by the most generous
of donations, whether made in public or private.
This is a stale admission. Some people, however,
have gone on filling the sieve of beggary, in the
kindliest spirit, to find it empty again. Others have
used discriminating schemes of distribution, and relied
on the practical discernment of the Charity Organi-
zation Society. Thus, indeed, they may feel to be
protected from encouraging imposture, and that
certain of the "deserving poor" are helped by their
gifts. This is well, so far. Many of the most needy
are thus aided. But (as my old friend Hansard used
to say) you cannot organize the Holy Ghost. When
all is said and done towards saving the most hopeful
sufferers from the slough of pauperism, close above
its surface there is a film of poverty which the imple-
ment of the direct money-giver is unable to skim
off. How does Christian charity, even if joined with
the bestowal of all a man's goods to feed the poor,
suffice to remove or dissipate this layer of industrial
privation, and the mass of penury beneath it ?

Does the example of St. Martin, who divided his
cloak with the beggar, help us ? Or are we sufficiently
warned by the fate of Dives, who allowed a pauper
to live on the crumbs from his table, till the angels
intervened? It was not unkind of him to let a
rnenial-fed dependent lie at his gate. We may be
sure that another Lazarus filled the coveted vacancy

CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 137

before Dives was buried. And an army of St. Martins
would have been needed to gratify the swarm which
must have envied the good fortune of their comrade.
Can Christian charity such as that of this one saint
solve the problem before Christians now ?

Without finding in its impossibility an excuse for
shutting the purse and buttoning the pocket, must
we not perceive that charity means far more than a
giving to the poor of that which satisfies bodily
hunger ?

Was Jesus pleased when the multitude sought Him
because they ate of the loaves and were filled ?

He fed them, indeed, and we may thus learn of
Him in times of extremity ; but He looked for a
better appetite in them than that which He had
quenched. In this, too, He surely teaches us, still
more.

Should we not think of what the poor ought to
desire for themselves? Should we not do all we
can to encourage a wish in them for something
beyond " loaves and fishes " ?

Have not these very words, indeed, been used, in
contempt, by the best among the necessitous, as when
they sneer at such as profess religion for what they
can get in the shape of tickets and doles ?

Some philanthropists have come to see the truth
of this, and sought to promote " thrift," and a more
refined appreciation of human enjoyment than comes
through the bodily senses. They have looked beyond
the beneficence of hospitals, which train the rich man's
doctor while they unquestionably heal the sick poor,
and they have promoted "provident dispensaries."
They have also set up Polytechnics and the like.
They have encouraged the spread of elevating litera-
ture, technical education, and hailed the arrival of
parish councils. All this, especially the last, indi-
cates a wholesome growing perception that the real

138 A LENT IN LONDON.

wants of the " masses " are not met by a permanent
distribution of alms, however generous and devoutly
given, or by gifts of food, fire, and clothing specially
needed at times of acute general distress. The un-
employed cry for work, not bread without employ-
ment. Moreover, beyond a limited appreciation of
such philanthropical instructive institutions as I have
referred to, even these are felt, somehow, by many,
to be outside the deeper needs of those whom they
are designed to benefit. They are excellent in their
way, and deserve liberal support, especially as they
tend to encourage more self-reliance among the care-
less. There is, however, a growing desire among
the best of those roughly designated as the " poor "
for something which has no flavour of " charity," as
commonly understood. It is a feeling after such
relief or elevation as arises from within themselves,
and does not approach them from without, however
kind the motives of those who would bring and
bestow it. Something like the sap of creation, which
lifts the tree whose seed is in itself, and rises, so to
speak, with automatic growth.

The most intelligently aspiring members of the
" working class " crave for that action to be en-
couraged which shall recognize more fully their claim
as citizens to better the laws under which, unhappily,
the present evil condition of so many among the
" industrial population " has come about. There are,
indeed, not a few who can work, but are not ashamed
to beg. And there are some who subject themselves
to capricious restrictions when they might fairly earn
their bread.

But the most self-respecting among those I am
thinking of would almost rather starve than be sup-
pliants for alms. They resent sheer donative charity
with profound repugnance, and ask for remedial
measures, constitutionally inaugurated, some of which

CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 139

startle political economists. I do not here examine,
or indeed plead for, any of the special proposals
which are thus made, but (merely as an illustration
of the fact that they aim at superseding so-called
popular chanty, and without any decrying of material
generosity, personally shown by friends) I might
point to a sign of the times seen in the popularity
of a work lately published, and, with severe signifi-
cance, called " Merrie England/' It faces the " pro-
blem of life." The book contains more than two
hundred pages, is written in a vivid scholarly style,
and divided into chapters headed with quotations
from Ruskin, Browning, Matthew Arnold, Mill, Adam
Smith, and, repeatedly, the Prophet Isaiah.

Well, this aggressive but scholarly volume costs
only a penny, and already, it is announced, several
hundred thousand copies of it have been bought,
mainly by " working men."

This is more than a " straw " in the wind that has
brought the social revolution through which we are
passing. And I now refer to it in so far as it involves
an utterance pointedly discarding the interpretation
long given to the word " charity."

And without committing himself to an approval
of what this book recommends, for it is in the pro-
foundest degree revolutionary, I would ask every
Christian to consider well whether St. Paul's plea for
that which hopeth, beareth, and believeth all things,
should not lead him to look, with a tolerant eye, at
any repudiation by the "poor" of the patronizing
sense which has been given to the word "charity/'
even though their resentment of it be accompanied
by statements and proposals referring to matters
outside the region of almsgiving.

Meanwhile, without attempting to forecast the
eventual result of any effort by the working classes
to benefit the needy through some legislative action

140 A LENT IN LONDON.

(not by any means necessarily subversive of existing
order), we cannot selfishly abstain from giving direct
help to such as are in obvious distress. But " he
that is spiritual judgeth all things," and it is not for
the true Christian to turn with final contemptuous
distaste from any genuine movement among the
masses to elevate themselves ; however crude it may
be, and however little he may esteem the nature of
the requirements they put forth.

When we see symptoms of a desire among the
" needy " for something better than " doles," or even
usefully instructive philanthropical institutions, we
ought to hail it as a sign of social health. There is
such a thing as "righteous discontent" which breeds
wholesome self-reliance in a nation, though its growth
may be mistaken by, and repugnant to, some who
look for immediate thanks whenever they do a kind-
ness after their own choosing.

He who exercises far-seeing Christian charity,
though (as things are) he will gladly give to feed
the hungry, clothe the naked, and warm the cold,
must, indeed, be prepared often to have his vital
motives misunderstood by the poor with whom he is
brought into contact, and to have pleas for their
ultimate good ungraciously heard by many who
rely upon the virtue of almsgiving. Nevertheless,
he will not hide his head in the sand, shrinking
from a sight of the fact that thousands of those who
form the social stratum above pauperism are being
deeply moved with a desire to raise themselves by
some legislative remedy, out of that state which
causes so many of them to look for relief through
external charity. This mostly lowers the recipient,
instead of raising him, however sincerely and un-
selfishly it may be applied.

The far-seeing friend of man will realize all this in
a true Christian spirit. He will do what he can to

CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 141

give unformulated and exaggerated hopes a right
direction, and be fair all round, remembering that
Joseph of Arimathea was a disciple of Christ as well
as Peter the fisherman of Galilee. Above all, when
he has read St. Paul's definition of charity, he will
remember that "love" is a name of God, and be
enabled to recognize a true flavour of faith and hope
in some of His children whom others think to be
too self-asserting, and too ignorant to discern what
they really need, but are his brethren in Christ ; and,
so far as in him lies, to be brought into touch with
that Spirit which He promised to guide us into all
truth.

OVER-POPULATION.

BY THE

REV. G. SARSON, M.A.,
Vicar of Holy Trinity, Dover.

" So God created man in His own image, in the image of God
created He him ; male and female created He them. And God blessed
them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish
the earth, and subdue it." — GEN. i. 27, 28.

"Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be
more feeble, are necessary." — I COR. xii. 22.

THOSE of us who venture to invoke the capacious
name of Christianity in the solution of economic
problems are periodically informed that we are vainly
flapping against the iron bars of nature's cage. We
are warned to keep ourselves, as Christians, off econo-
mic ground, and not to make of its solid veracities
a fool's paradise for ourselves and our dupes. We
are, as far as I can discover, never exactly told what
the vast overshadowing power, or law, is which we
are fated to defy if, as Christians, we venture to
meddle with economic questions. But, I believe, the
thought at the back of men's minds is that there are
too many labourers in the land, too many people
perhaps in the world, and that it is unmitigated mis-
chief to lead sufferers from this superfluity to believe
that they can lift their sufferings from their own
shoulders without shifting it on to others in the ranks
of the superfluous. Nature, or the universal blind

O VER-POP ULA TION. 143

struggle and push, they seem to think, is the wisest
chooser as to who shall suffer, when suffer some must,
until the supplies of suffering perish simultaneously
with the over-supply of population.

Twenty-five years ago political economists and
scientific philanthropists agreed in declaring over-
population to be the chief obstacle to the progress of
the working classes. To-day the subject occupies a
comparatively small space in the works of such writers ;
but the influence of the thought lingers. The change
in tone is characteristic of a general change since the
days when Charles Bradlaugh was the hero of the
most advanced politicians amongst miners and manu-
facturing artisans. The aim of Mill and Bradlaugh
was to induce the country so to limit its population
that labour, no longer superabundant, might command
its own price in the market, and be no longer at the
mercy of the under-bidding of starving superfluous
hands. Mr. Bradlaugh, in his later and parliamentary
days, could hardly restrain his fury at the new school
of labour leaders who ignore the dangers of over-
population, and think that State organization can
avail to secure for the masses a larger share of the
productions of the country, so long at least as new
hands and mouths continue to multiply. Labour
leaders seemed to Mr. Bradlaugh rank impostors if
they led men to hope for any mitigation of the world's
poverty except by so reducing its population that
the wages of unskilled labour must be higher because
of its comparative scarcity. As a strong individualist,
Mr. Bradlaugh based all his reasoning on the case of
the individual with work to seek for, and a family to
maintain. Undeniably, at any particular time that
individual would be more easily situated and well
paid, if his family were small, and his fellow- workmen
fewer.

But we may approach the problem from a point

144 A LENT IN LONDON.

of view transcending the personal troubles of the
individual, and their tangible causes at any one
moment. It may be more scientific to begin not
from the individual, but by looking at the masses in
the lump. In the crowd of men standing idle in the
market-place, shut out from the work-yard gates, we
may see not merely an over-supply of labour. In
the abstract, there is something self-contradictory in
the phrase " over-supply of labour." If these labourers
were mere machines, only able to produce one sort
of article, and only requiring oil and fuel to keep
them going, there might be an over-supply of their
particular product. But, in reality, these multitudes
of unemployed are made for one another, each de-
manding something which the others can produce,
the over-supply of each being something with which
the others are under-supplied. The misfortune is,
not that these men have come into existence, but
that they are not producing for one another the things
which, between them, all want. The able-bodied have
it in them to produce the material and social neces-
sities and luxuries which are supposed by the indi-
vidualist to justify a man in existing. All that is
wanted is capital to set them to work on the raw
material of these necessities, and land on which to
move their limbs healthily. Is there a dearth of
capital, dearness of raw material, scarcity of unoccu-
pied land ? If so, there may be natural obstacles
to the employment of the unemployed to supply
one another's needs. There is at present no such
dearth. On the contrary, we are told that capital and
land are starving for lack of demanders. Therefore,
what is wanted is to bring together all these various
elements of production ; to bring together the men
who want one another, who demand one another,
and can supply one another's wants and demands ;
to bring these unemployed men together to the

O VER-POP ULA TION. 145

unemployed capital, which also is languishing for
investment and employment in their muscles.

From the point of view of any single individual,
seeking employment in an unorganized society, every
other unemployed person adds to his difficulties, and
those difficulties are multiplied by the total number
of the unemployed. But looked at from the point
of view of a society seeking to organize and utilize
all its instruments of production, an unemployed indi-
vidual's difficulties are not added to, but met, by the
existence of other unemployed persons. Every other
unemployed person is his potential employer, a
demand for his unemployed labour, for which possibly
there might be no demand if no other unemployed
person existed. Therefore, instead of multiplying
the difficulties of the unemployed man by the number
of his fellow-unemployed, you may multiply the
demand for him by the total number of the unem-
ployed. They are all (unless they are rich) in need
of something, demanding something, which he can
help to make. He, if he is poor, especially if he is
destitute, is demanding many things which they
between them can make.

But, you will tell me, there are already stacks of
boots, and stockings, and coats, and hats, and cheap
food of all sorts, for which there is no market, and
to set these unemployed men to make these things
for one another, is to leave these stacks of over-
production to throw still further numbers out of
employment. The answer to this is, that there may
at any one time be an over-production of certain
articles of common consumption, but there can never
be an over-production of everything. Over-produc-
tion of everything would mean free exchange of these
things amongst all their producers, and the briskest
possible trade for everything. For if every one had
over-produced, every one would have superabundance

L

146 A LENT IN LONDON.

wherewith to purchase the superabundance of others.
It might in that case be necessary to burn some of
the over-produced things, if there were no room for
the things, but every one would be in clover and at
leisure if there were universal over-production. Till
the world is crammed, over-production and over-
population cannot be the causes of poverty and
unemployment. It is unorganized production, not
0zw-production, unorganized population, not over-
population, which are the causes of partial destitution.
But there may yet be some truth at the bottom of
the over-production cry. Though there cannot be
universal over-production, there may be partial over-
production ; there may, e.g., have been over-produc-
tion of that stack of boots, stockings, coats, and hats,
and cheapest foods, which we imagined might stand
unused, if the army of the unemployed were organized
to make for one another the most common necessities
of life. But what would this prove? Only the
difficulties of making a proper start with the un-
employed. That there are too many boots, etc., at
any one time has been the result of improper organi-
zation of production, not of general over-production,
still less of over-population. If there had been
proper organization of production, the labour which
was spent in making those superfluous boots would
have been spent in making something else. There
must be certain things which would be very welcome
to those who have boots enough, and would add
to the convenience and comfort of their lives. Such
things at present are a little too dear for these well-
booted folk. Production, diverted from boots to
such things, say overcoats, or watches, or books, would
have enabled a greater number of persons to have
overcoats, watches, or books. If so, the non-employ-
ment of the army of the unemployed has prevented
a certain number of persons from having overcoats,

OVER-POPULATION. 147

watches, and books ; and has also left unused that
stack of boots, hats, stockings, coats, etc., which we
imagined, and which their producers may fairly
regard at present as so much over-production.

We may freely admit that tremendous difficulties
stand in the way of such organization of production.
We can also conceive that in some things a rise in
prices might occur, if there were a cessation of the
present process of cheapening things at the expense
of a number of unemployed. But it is enough for
our present purpose if we can see, in what is called
over-population, a potential source of wealth, instead
of a hopeless cause of poverty. An enormous drag
is at once lifted off our minds and hearts and
energies, if we may abandon the idea that " numbers "
necessarily spell " poverty." If pessimists tell us that
we must so do, we might even reconcile ourselves to
having always to maintain a residuum of unemployed
from public funds. It would be sad enough to have
to believe this, and we need not believe it. But even
this would be welcome compared with the covert belief
that the unemployed are unemployed because there
are too many people in the world. It may be beyond
the power of human skill and calculation exactly to
balance the different sorts of production, so that all
producers may always have employment ; but this
is owing to imperfections of our present attainments,
not to the very existence of a certain number of
human beings.

Thus, looked at from the point of view of this or
that individual or family, over-population in this or
that home may be a cause of poverty to certain indi-
viduals. But, looked at from the universal, every
increase of population is potential increase of wealth
for all, so long as the earth has room and sufficient
capacity for producing the raw material necessary
for all to live and work upon.

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Those of us who were brought up, a quarter of a
century ago, on Mill's "Political Economy/' were
taught to regard the possessors of large families as
sinning against the future welfare of society at large.
Some of you may remember an angry footnote of
Mill, in which he denounces the clergy and others for
their bad example in this respect For Mill there was
little superiority in periods of commercial prosperity
as compared with adversity, so long as in pros-
perous times the marriage and birth rates increased.
His only good hope from prosperous periods was
that the standard of comfort of the working classes
might be raised in such periods, and that as they
passed away, each time they might leave the work-
ing classes insisting upon a larger amount of comfort
as the minimum for a tolerable existence. And
herein he laid the foundation of what his disciples
of to-day denounce as so unscientific — the idea of " a
living wage." But that men should be able to insist
upon a living wage any larger than that which is just
enough to keep them able to work, seemed to Mill
impossible, except by the limiting of the population
so that wages should rise through the comparative
scarcity of labour. He was right if organization is
impossible, organization local, national, international.

Mr. Kidd has been formulating as a sine qua non of
progress that population should press upon the means
of subsistence. If what he says is true, then if
individualism prevailed so that the population were
regulated by the determination of parents that their
children shall easily be as well provided for as them-
selves, the elementary conditions of progress would
cease to exist As we look at the crowds of children
in the streets round about us, Mr. Kidd seems to say
to us, although and because these children are a
financial difficulty to their parents, they are conditions
of progress to the community. Necessary conditions,

O VER-POPULA TION. 149

mark ; not necessary causes of wealth and progress.
To become causes of wealth and progress, the press
of population must be educated producers, organized,
and, as Mr. Kidd historically gathers, religious as a
body. We have been seeing that what is called over-
population is a potential source of production and
joint wealth — over-addition to the commonwealth. But
Mr. Kidd's point is merely that if the pressure of the
tendency to over-population is relaxed, nature's uni-
versal goad is removed. Mr. Kidd is not, in what
he considers the strict sense of the term, a socialist.
For him strong competition is the atmosphere that
healthy nature universally desiderates. Within this
atmosphere, he would have everything that is possible
done to give every one an equal footing in the struggle
of life. Progress, he argues, has proceeded in pro-
portion as religion has induced races to bring ever-
increasing numbers of their members within the area
of a fairer struggle for the means of subsistence.
What is called over-population is, in itself, a sine quti
non of progress ; not inevitably productive of progress,
and yet potentially productive of wealth and progress,
and thus productive in proportion as organization
prevails, organization based upon desire to bring all
really within the commonwealth.

Thus, whatever tendency there may be to over-
population, is nature goading men to organize, and to
organize religiously — religiously, that is, in deference
to the ties which bind men together. These ties
make mankind an organism. To respond to these
ties is to organize, to be religious ; for we can only
organize in the Name of the Most High within the
human being, and in renunciation of mere self, i.e. in
the Name of Christ.

We need not, then, be pessimists. There is no
justification for blank dismay. The great impedi-
ment to progress does not consist in the growth of

ISO A LENT IN LONDON.

population. We might well be appalled if every
baby born were an addition to the sum-total of
poverty. On the contrary, every baby born is a
potential addition to the wealth of the nation. It is
only a source of poverty when you allow the baby
to grow up into an untaught youth, leaving school
too soon, and doing a man's or woman's work badly
as soon as it is big enough to do unskilled work.
The boy is a source of poverty when you allow him
to earn money so soon that he never learns to become
a permanent producer of anything. There the error
is again the individualist's error. In pity for the
pinched family, and to ease its resources for two
or three years, you prevent the boy from learning
what will enrich him and the community for life.
Perhaps his father, at the age of forty, is finding
employment scarcer? Why? Perhaps because his
work is being done by some boy of thirteen or
fifteen who ought to be at school or a technical
school.

Of course such boys will be turned into the market
at the earliest possible moment, if industrial life is
to be a merely individualist struggle. That boy's
father will serve other men as other boys' fathers
have served him. And so, says the individualist,
cheapness prevails, and all have their wants supplied
at the least cost. But the process is murderous.
And it is the disorganization that is so suicidal. We
have left industry to scramble and chance, and then
we despair because there are so many to engage in
the scramble. If the scramblers were dogs, our
despair would be warrantable. Because they are
human beings, whether labourers or capitalists, their
mutual destructiveness may be turned into construc-
tiveness if they will co-operate instead of scrambling.
As long as they scramble, they destroy the wealth
which lies within themselves as well as the capital

O VER-POP ULA TION. 1 5 1

they fight for. If they will co-operate, they will at
once multiply their inherent wealth and the capital of
the capitalists. We want so to condition life that
co-operation may be possible. For this, we must
educate, discipline, organize. We can begin to do
this as communities and as a nation. We can hardly,
as a nation, begin to reduce the population, even if
that were the panacea for our social woes. That
must be left to individual prudence. And such
prudence will grow best amongst organized sur-
roundings. If it is imprudence, the poorest are most
imprudent in this matter. You will stop their im-
prudence, not by intensifying the present scramble,
but by the thought and pause which organization
brings. And this is hindered, we know not how
much, by a preliminary pessimism — the profound,
though now perhaps partially shamed and silent
pessimism, which believes that our main difficulty is
one which, to tell the grim truth, could only really be
abated by wholesale murder. Of course, such pessi-
mism, bred of the belief that there are too many
people in the land, makes men feel that the remedies
for our woes do not lie in Christianity. When they
tell us that Christianity cannot be profitably brought
to bear on political economy, they mean that

4 ' Nature, red in tooth and claw,
With ravine shrieks against our creed."

But we tell them that they take a very partial and
limited view of Nature, and that Nature is made for
organization, and that those men most ignore Nature
who most ignore her capacities for organization at
the hand of man.

As Christians, it is almost enough for us to protest
against this pessimism. It is not our special function
to work out the mechanics of the organization of
industry, capital and labour. This is the office of

i$2 A LENT IN LONDON.

the political economist and the statesman. Ours is,
in the Name of the God-Christ, to emancipate these
workers and their clients from the chains of pessi-
mism with which they are tied and bound ; to declare
that there is a Mind and Heart at the bottom of
creation ; that man is made in God's image still, that
he may be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the
earth, and subdue it to his service and God's. If we
can thus liberate thought from its bondage to pessi-
mism, we shall stimulate economic invention and
ingenuity and statecraft, until they achieve for human
industry and capital what they have achieved in the
past generation for machinery and locomotion.
Economic science has too much confined itself to
glorifying into impassable barriers the difficulties
which life undoubtedly presents. We do not ask
that these difficulties may be ignored. But we do
insist that ideals shall not be ignored. We do insist
that every human problem must be approached
under the mighty convictions of faith concerning
human society and every human being.

In the Marriage Service of the Church of England,
the opening address, which some shrink from hearing
read, says just what seems to need to be said by
reason and faith. There is no breath of dismay at
the fact that marriage means children. This intro-
duction to the Marriage Office even puts children as
the first purpose of the marriage, in terms which
hardly any one of to-day would have dared to initiate :
" Children to be brought up in the fear and nurture
of the Lord, and to the praise of His Holy Name" —
the Holy Name which is the unity of fatherhood,
sonship, brotherhood. It welcomes the prospect
of children. The only proviso is that they shall be
brought up to live for God and not for self. Because
children are the first purpose of marriage, therefore it
" is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand,

0 VER-POPULA TION. 153

unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's
carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that
have no understanding ; but reverently, discreetly,
advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God ; duly
considering the causes for which Matrimony was
ordained." The Church fears not increase of popula-
tion, but only selfish, unsocial, irreligious nurture of
children.

It is beyond my present purpose to enforce all the
warning, which these words contain against selfish,
individualistic, ill-considered marriages. I can only
remind any one who would twist anything I have
said into an apology for such marriages, that one evil
result of the present chaotic scramble for a livelihood
seems to be, that marriage is at present " enterprised,
unadvisedly, lightly, and wantonly," most of all by
those whose nurture has most trained them to regard
life as a daily scramble for food. If " all our doings "
were more visibly " ordered by God's governance,"
men and women would be more forced than at
present to feel that individualistic desire is insuffi-
cient sanction for marriage.

We contend that the Baptismal Office and the
Marriage Office set forth prime human truths, funda-
mental for economic and industrial science as well as
for personal holiness.

The first thing which the Church of England Cate-
chism teaches every child is, that it has been made
a member of Christ, a brother in the Divine human
family, an inheritor of a kingdom of spiritual influ-
ences, powers, rights. The child is taught that it
fights against its Divine constitution and environ-
ment when it fails to live as a member ; and it is
taught that this is what its own private Christian
name symbolizes for it and for the Church. At the
very moment when we are dwelling on the person-
ality of the individual, we are taught, as the first truth

1 54 A LENT IN LONDON.

of the Catholic faith concerning the individual, that he
is, by his Divine creation and constitution, a member
of a vast organism, an integral, vital, perfect part, a
limb of a body of which Christ is the Head ; and
that he has been divinely born into an inheritance
which is nothing less than the spiritual Kingdom. The
Christian terminology for describing every individual
is essentially organic, economic, social language. We
cannot keep our hands off political economy without
ignoring the first words of our Catechism, and our
fundamental Christian faith concerning every human
being. We can only regard a human being Chris-
tianly, we can only regard society Christianly, when
we see in each human being a member of the whole
sacred body, and not a mere excrescence or super-
fluity. Our Christianity is an economy, the economy ;
it is not a mere salve, or string of texts, for those
who are faint or beaten amongst a horde of irre-
sponsible scramblers or unprovided-for tramps. True,
indeed, "all men are conceived and born in sin."
But, greater truth than this, " God, The Son, hath
redeemed me and all mankind" And it is to declare
this, of all mankind — body, mind, and spirit — to
declare that neither multitudes nor sin are outside
the scope and power of the redeemed economy ; it is
to declare and effectuate this universal economy, that
God the Holy Spirit consecrates and inhabits His
Church.

ART AND LIFE.

BY THE

REV. PERCY DEARMER, B.A.,
Assistant Curate of St. John's, Great Marlborough Street.

"For with Thee is the Well of Life, and in Thy Light shall we see
Light. " — Ps. xxxvi. 9.

HOLY Church has, with a strange pertinacity, per-
sisted in her attachment to Art, throughout the dark
ages of Mammon's triumph in which our lot is cast.
The dwellers in Philistia have wondered at her fana-
tical conduct : just as they could see nothing but
money-making in Life, so they could see nothing
but man-millinery in Art. " Why this ridiculous
attachment to mediaeval forms and ceremonies ? "
they have been crying, "What more can you need
in public worship, than a smooth frock-coat and a
tumbler of water ? " Churchmen, cankered many of
them by the commercial worm, wavered. But Holy
Church persisted, in the teeth of prejudice and of
persecution. In the greater part of her the old lovely
rites continued, with only some loss of their earlier
purity ; while in the very borders of the Philistines the
ancient spirit flickered on ; and even the Dean of Gath
could not do worse than neglect his Cathedral ; even
the Bishop of Askelon suffered the incense to rise in
silent protest to heaven, under his very nose.

And now a change has come over the thought of
men. Not that art is yet revived, but men are getting

156 A LENT IN LONDON.

to feel that it ought to be revived. It is indeed still
lost among us, but we are becoming conscious of our
loss. And the result is that men are everywhere
getting to be a little ashamed of having reviled the
Church for so consistently holding aloft the lamp of
Beauty. They are beginning to realize that she has
in fact been handing on the light (just as she pre-
served classical literature in the Middle Ages), and
that she, and she almost alone, has been keeping
alive the sacred fire, such sparks of it as may still be
smouldering among our people.

She could not but do this, because it is her function
to maintain the wholeness and oneness, the integrity
of the Catholic faith. Not, mark you, that beauty is
more than one side of life and religion, but that it
is one side, and less than the whole is less than the
Truth. It would have been impossible for that Body
which has the abiding Spirit of God to fall away
from the integrity of truth. If she had, Christ's
promise, " Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end
of the world," would have been broken. It was
not then a mere graceful picturesqueness that Holy
Church stood up for amid the ruins of art, but an
essential principle : the principle of the integrity of
Life ; the principle that goodness and beauty cannot
be opposed ; because there are not two gods, but One
God, and He is the Source alike of all goodness,
all beauty, all truth. " Every good gift and every
perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from
the Father of lights, with Whom is no variableness,
neither shadow of turning."

The Church then has to maintain, through evil
report and good report, the integrity of life. This is
why she has had, in the very interests of purity, to
oppose what is called Puritanism. For Purity is
that which would make all things pure : Puritanism
is that which would make most things impure.

ART AND LIFE. 157

And the effect of Puritanism has been, not only to
divert its votaries from art, which is worship, to
covetousness, which is idolatry, — not only that, but
Puritanism is also responsible for the reaction against
it of school after narrow school of artists, who persist
in regarding art as a mere plaything for the well-
to-do.

Bohemia is but a sabbath-day's journey from
Philistia. Puritanism, and the reactions against it,
are fundamentally alike : they alike deny our great
first-principle of the integrity of life ; they alike refuse
to see that the artist is the fellow-worker with God —
some because they do not believe in art, some because
they do not believe in God, and many because they
do not believe in either. The false antithesis, which
popular religion suffered between goodness and
beauty, has in fact driven the artist to Bohemia.
Nothing else can explain the difference between the
popular artist of bygone days, who " painted upon his
knees," and the popular book-illustrator of to-day,
whose one aim in life seems to be to exclude from
his work everything whatsoever that is honest, pure,
lovely, or of good report, and if there be any virtue,
or any praise, not to think on these things, or to do
them.

Indeed I think the danger to-day is not so much
from the Puritanism which says that Art is immoral,
as from the reactionary Hedonism which says that Art
is non-moral. The mawkish sentimentality in painting,
for instance, or in music, which was the only kind of
art that the self-styled religious world would tolerate a
few years ago, has driven many people to suppose that
no art is perfect without a spice of devilry. And we
find critics reiterating that curious doctrine which has
become memorable in one famous sentence — "The
fact of a man being a poisoner is nothing against his
prose."

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" Nothing against his prose"! Is not this just
Puritanism, turned inside out? And this shallow
philosophy, this sectional idea of life, that would divide
every human being into water-tight compartments, is
doing exactly the same bad work as Puritanism. It
lowers the value, and restricts the functions of Art.
It treats Art as if it were a mere decorative adjunct
of life ; forgetting the great principle of Plato, that
" Wrongness of form and the lack of rhythm, the lack
of harmony, are fraternal to faultiness of mind and
character " ; forgetting that decoration is but a means
to an end, and that this end is the manifestation of
the harmony and loveliness of the world, the grace
and power of man, the unity of life, the holiness of
God.

And, because they will not see that Art is the out-
ward and visible expression of that inward mystical
grace of Beauty, their foolish heart is darkened. They
pursue each his own slender vein of talent ; never
broadening, never deepening their work, but content
with incessant repetition of idea, they are killing Art
by gradual dismemberment. For, though they found
no school of promise for the future, they are yet
followed by a host of narrow-souled imitators ; and
the idle crowd of ignorant admirers pick up the tricks
of these poor gifted men, who neither reverence the
past nor hope for the future.

What is the result ? A complete divorce between
Art and Life. So that, in a paper that is supposed
to be enlightened, there recently appeared an article
on the architecture of London, which began with the
assumption (an assumption that no one has since
taken the trouble to contradict) that art is only for
" that portion of the community which has money to
spend." What a grotesque result of the doctrine of
"art for art's sake" ! What an irony of fate that,
having dissociated Art from God, and therefore from

ART AND LIFE. 159

Life, we should now be crying, " Art for Mammon's
sake " ! Alas, for the old times when every city
reared its cluster of towers and roofs within its city
walls, an island of beauty that was worthy of the hills
and forests and meadows which surrounded it ! Alas,
for the time when a whole city could go mad with
delight over one beautiful picture, when the love of
all lovely things was so widespread that every village
carpenter and every village blacksmith was an artist,
and there was not a thing produced by the hand of
man that did not tell of the harmony between the
common people and the mind of God. Alas for the
time ! For now we are promised an art for the rich ;
an art that will leave Life untouched with the beauty
of holiness ; an art that will confine itself in books
and in picture-frames ; an art that will caper in the
drawing-rooms of those who live upon the labour of
others ; while the towns, where men have to spend their
days, are to continue as repulsive, as degrading, as
sordid, squalid, and contemptible as ever. And we
may sit all our lives —

" Revant du divin Platon, et de Phidias,
Sous 1'oeil clignotant des bleus bees de gaz."

My friends, this is not possible. Beauty is an
attribute of God : Mammon is not. We must choose :
we cannot have both. At the present day, in spite of
the wonderful revivals of art among us, there is less
beauty, far less, in the world than there was fifty
years ago. The greater part of our churches have
been ruined by unspeakable restorations ; the fairest
towns, like Florence, or like Oxford (where at least
one might have expected better things), have been
made almost unrecognizable by wanton destruction,
or heartless, careless, stupid rebuilding. And nearly
the whole of our terrible modern architecture has
been perpetrated during the last fifty years.

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It is not possible ! If we use art as the embroidery
of idle selfish lives it will die, as it has always died
when put to such use in the past. Love, Truth,
Beauty, we cannot separate them, for they are God :
we must have all, or none. Art, to be possible at all
in any real sense, must be founded upon them. It
cannot be a thing apart ; as Milton finely says, " He
who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well
hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a
true poem." It can be no exotic, no artificial hot-
house plant delicately cherished by wealthy patrons.
It must spring from the common soil of the whole
people. It must be an atmosphere ; we must drink
it in wherever we go, and it must no longer be true
that, while God makes the country, the Devil makes
the town. For our cities, our homes, our churches
must overflow once more with beauty and suggestion,
if Art is to take root amongst us. We may paint
pictures till the crack of doom, but it will avail us
nothing, until we have learnt the paramount necessity
of beautiful surroundings for every man, woman, and
child on God's beautiful earth. For these, it is, which
mould the characters of men. 'Tis our primal need,
to have the inspiration of lovely things about us :—

"The ways through which my weary steps I guide

In this delightful land of Faery
Are so exceeding spacious and wide,
And sprinkled with such sweet variety
Of all that pleasant is to ear and eye,
That I, nigh ravisht with rare thought's delight,

My tedious travail do forget thereby,
And, when I 'gin to feel decay of might,
It strength to me supplies, and cheers my dulled spright."

That is what art is for! Not for the idle and
luxurious, but for the weary and heavy laden, for
those who their " tedious travail do forget thereby : "
not for mere pleasure, but for power and inspiration, —
" It strength to me supplies, and cheers my dulled

ART AND LIFE. 161

spright : " art, not for art's sake, but for the sake of
beauty, and of truth, for the sake of God. " Whatso-
ever doth make manifest is light." " God is light,
and in Him is no darkness at all."

Have we not forgotten this ? We talk nowadays
about Art, as the editor of a certain religious journal
did the other day, who described the wonderfully
happy condition of the working-classes by saying
that art now abounded in their homes, because of
the spread of cheap prints ! And complacently we
forget that we have exiled art from our midst.
Open, then, your eyes to the fact that we cannot
raise the faintest scintilla of art among our people,
that we cannot even make a single church thoroughly
beautiful, that we cannot even build a single satisfactory
public building. And then consider what we have lost.

We have lost the atmosphere of inspiration, the
subtle exalting influence that Plato valued so highly ;
we have lost true " other- worldliness " — the con-
sciousness of the nearness and reality of the other
world of saints and angels ; we no longer understand
that the spirit of true religion is everywhere, in street
and home, and every day of the week. We have
put God out of sight, and out of mind. We have got
out of harmony with Nature, which God has made
so lavishly beautiful. For God knows that beauty is
essential if a people is to be healthy and good ; but
we have shut out the very sky in these awful cities of
ours, where everything we see is eloquent of Mammon,
and silent about God. For us the trees bud and the
flowers open in vain. We have destroyed the great
refining influence of life ; we have lost tenderness,
humility, honesty in work, the belief in the dignity of
labour. We have become narrow-souled, and narrow-
minded, with vulgar greedy ways of living. For we
have split up the integrity of life : so that the Uni-
versities know nothing about art, while Bohemia is

M

i62 A LENT IN LONDON.

frivolously unconcerned about the great problems of
existence. The freshness and joy are gone from
amongst us : —

" The world is too much with us ; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,
Little we see in Nature that is ours ;
We have given our lives away, a sordid boon !
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers ;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ! "

And, now, I want to lead you on to recognize that
no social reform will do any real good without art.
Not only because, as we have seen, art is necessary
for the support and exaltation of life, but also because
it is essential to the dignity of Labour. This truth
Ruskin has summed up in one sentence: — "Life
without industry is guilt, and industry ^vitho^tt art is
brutality"

The guilt of idleness, the brutality of mechanical
work — here you have the two main causes of our
secular disease. And, as I began by showing our
indebtedness to Holy Church, let me draw two illus-
trations from the present degradation of ecclesiastical
art. What that degradation is, every one knows who
has been inside any church, and seen the blatant
commercialism of modern church-decoration 1 ; the
Brummagem brass-work that is turned out by the
great " ecclesiastical art furnishers," who are neither
ecclesiastical, nor artistic, nor competent to furnish ;
the miserable hangings and vestments, that are with-
out character, or suggestion, or beauty of any kind—
every one, I say, knows, who can realize the melancholy
heartless degradation of the whole thing. And those
who are sensible to such matters know too how the

1 This is the more inexcusable, since everything beautiful that a
Church can need may be bought at William Morris' (449, Oxford Street),
where the moral of " Art and Life " is in practical application,

ART AND LIFE. 163

soul is untuned by this abounding evidence of greed
and vanity and unloveliness. But few realize that all
this means, not the degradation of our churches alone,
but the degradation of every workman whom they
have employed.

To my illustrations. Only a few days ago I was
called in by a priest to inspect the new side-altar he
was having put up in his church. He had employed
a well-known firm of church-furnishers, and what had
they done ? They had simply turned over the leaves
of their catalogue, and had ordered a No. 68 altar !
Could anything be more horrible? Think of the
lives of the workmen who spend the whole of their
existence making No. 68 altars ! You wonder at the
brutalizing of our people ; but what can you expect,
when even skilled workmen are employed in this
way, with no interest, no pleasure, no chance of im-
parting a spark of their own selves to the work ? You
wonder at the strange incompetence of modern work-
men, at the extraordinary want of intelligence in
what they do ; but compare their daily lives with that
of a journalist, a lawyer, a physician, compare them
with that of a workman in the Middle Ages, and
think of the dulness of the one, of the absorbing
interest of the other ; and then you will understand
how it is there is such a striking difference between
workmen and other men, nowadays. You will under-
stand what the freedom and strength of the mediaeval
workmen was, and why they could be let loose in a
cathedral to carve what they liked, and to produce
those wonderful creations that we find it impossible
even to imitate, — even when we import Italian masons
to do the work for us.

My second illustration bears its moral too plainly
for comment. It is this. A few weeks ago a com-
mittee of clergy and churchwardens were engaged in
discussion as to whether contracts for a new parish

1 64 A LENT IN LONDON.

building should be accepted, unless the recognized
fair rate of wages were paid. The committee turned
for an opinion to the representative of one of our best-
known church architects. " Oh/' said he, " my chief
never concerns himself with labour questions."

Never concerns himself with labour questions !
Here lies, surely, the explanation of the utter deadness
of architecture amongst us. For you cannot recover
even the art of masonry, while labour is treated with
this contempt. You can never have the simplest
architecture again until you have free and intelligent
and happy workers, — never until the architect learns
that the workman is an artist, and the artist a work-
man.

And, what is true of architecture is true of all work.
No art will rise in our midst, and no happy society
will be possible, till we learn that great Christian
truth of the dignity of labour. Thus is art bound up
with life. Without leisure and pleasure in work, no
amount of culture, or of criticism, or of cant about
high art, will be of the slightest use. Leisure, the
workman must have, that he may become what he
once was, a craftsman, — not rest only, but leisure to
live, to read, think, converse, and look on the face
of nature, — leisure that he may have life.

And pleasure too in the work itself. Impossible !
you say, as you think of the dull repulsive round of
daily drudgery, when men are either machines, or
the servants of machines. Why is it impossible ? Just
because of our contempt for human life ; because we
regard money-making as the end of production ;
because we have forgotten that the life is more than
meat, and the body than raiment. And yet pleasure
in work has only become generally impossible in
recent times ; it is not a law of nature. Indeed no
intelligent theist could ever believe it to be God's
will, that men should sit the livelong day, amid

ART AND LIFE. 165

rattling brutalizing machinery, or bending over some
office desk, grinding at some paltry mechanical toil,
till all the heart and soul, the fellowship, and zest in
life, is crushed out of them. And therefore I am
rejoiced that, through that wonderful book " Merrie
England," our people are at last being taught the
value of simple natural lives, the folly of our hideous
machine-slavery. For it is deeply, vitally, true, that
only in proportion as work becomes more pleasing,
more interesting, more noble, will the people come
to love their work ; and just as they love their work
more, so will they be more industrious, more con-
tented, and finer, better, manlier men.

Thus is Life bound up with Art. And therefore,
in the name of the toiling millions, in the name of
Christ, Whose brethren they are, I appeal to you to
fight the miserable partial views of life around you.
It is we Christians who will have to show the world
that all good and perfect things are at one, for we
believe in the Divine at-one-ment ; and we know,
surely we must know, the infinite preciousness of
human life, the dignity of human labour. Thus,
having learnt that those men are educated whose
work educates them, those men temperate whose
work gives them healthy lives and pure instincts,
those men free whose labour raises them above the
fear of slavery, we shall be able, in labour as well as
in leisure, to be imitators of Him, Whose supreme
attribute is the powei of creating. We shall worship
Him in the beauty of holiness ; and in all our worship
we shall not forget that work too is worship, laborare
est orare, to labour is to pray.

Ah ! it is Life that we have despised, the very art
of living that we have forgotten. And yet He came
that we might have Life, and that we- might have it
more abundantly.

PART III.
OUR SELVES.

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE.

BY THE

REV. CANON HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, M.A.

" Blow the trumpet in Zion, sanctify a fast, call a solemn assembly :
gather the people, sanctify the congregation, assemble the elders,
gather the children, and those that suck the breasts : let the bride-
groom go forth of his chamber, and the bride out of her closet. Let
the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep between the porch and
the altar, and let them say, Spare Thy people, O Lord, and give not
Thine heritage to reproach, that the heathen should rule over them :
wherefore should they say among the people, Where is their God ? " —
JOEL ii. 15-17.

THE trumpet that is blown in Zion rallies the entire
people to a public and national act. And the ground
of its demand for such an act is that the shame
that has brought that conviction is itself public and
national. It is the visible disgrace of the Lord's
heritage in the eyes of the heathen world. Something
is wrong with it as a whole. It stands there, in the
face of day, convicted of failure, suffering under
inevitable reproach. No one can mistake the signs
of decay, of spiritual impotence. The heathen spec-
tators, watching round, taunt it, as a thing that is
obviously broken, deserted, condemned. " Where is
now their God," they ask, " of Whom they made so
much ? "

A public dereliction ! That is the fact before them.
And that implies, at once, a public sin, which has
brought the shame about. What is it ? Not enough
to search this or that individual conscience ; not

170 A LENT IN LONDON.

enough to detect this or that personal lapse. Nay !
the sin is the nation's own, in its integral character.
It must discover, confess, bewail it, in its broad unity,
through its official representatives, under its tradi-
tional and constitutional forms. " Blow the trumpet ! "
Startle these people at their business, in their
pleasures, in the privacy of their homes, amid all
their multitudinous occupations. Tell them that
something more goes forward now than their own
personal affairs. Wake ! Rouse ! Alarm ! Make
them lift their heads, as they toil in the shop, as they
chaffer in the market, as they sit round the hearth,
as they dispute in the schools. " Blow the trumpet
in Zion ! " Bid them swarm from their houses.
Everything private must cease. It is the nation that
takes precedence. " Call a solemn assembly : gather
the people, sanctify the congregation." And because
it is a public act, therefore let the elders, the corporate
officers, take their appointed places. Let the priests,
with whom is lodged the responsibility of national
speech, play their due part, at the set spot between
porch and altar. Let them cry, on behalf of all,
" Spare us, good Lord, spare us ! Spare Thy people !
Give not Thine heritage to reproach ! "

A national act! It is paramount over all indi-
vidual accidents of interest or happiness. Is this
man joyful ? Is that man busy ? Let all this yield
and cease. The shadow of the people's penitence falls
across the sunlight of man's days, and wipes out all
the varied distinction of their many-coloured doings.
No private claim can stand in face of the larger,
deeper demand. Not even the blessed love of man
or maiden newly wed. That might be suffered by
kindly Jewish law to excuse a soldier from his service
in the field. But now it may not justify its joy. No
answer can be tolerated which ventures to plead, " I
have married a wife, therefore I cannot come." No !

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. 171

it must postpone its delight. " Let the bridegroom
come forth from his chamber, and the bride out of her
closet ; " " And let them weep between the porch and
the altar." Nor is it a matter of the degree of personal
responsibility or personal guilt. No one need turn
to ask, " How far was I aware of the nation's sin ?
In what measure did I partake ? " Nay ! the most
innocent fall under the ban. The very children, whose
light hearts acquit them of all knowledge of what
the sin may be — the very infants who have never
yet left the warm white peace of a mother's bosom —
even these are drawn within the range of this black
sorrow ; they are sharers, through their flesh and
blood, with the deeds that have been done. For the
nation constitutes one organic thing : it moves along
the lines of its fate, as an integral mass, governed by
a single momentum, and all are swept along in the
current. The action is collective, is corporate, is
organic. It cannot be sorted out, in retail portions
of separate responsibility, to this one or to that. All
are one, and all are implicated. Gather them all !
Gather the children. " Gather the very babes that
suck the breasts ! " That is the imperious, shattering
cry of the trumpet which is to be blown in Zion !
Its voice is irresistible. It penetrates every nook and
corner. It suffers nothing to escape or be excused.
It can permit but one passion to be felt — the passion
of a pleading penitence. It can allow but one word
to be heard in all the holy city. " Spare Thy people,
O Lord, and let not Thy heritage be put to reproach.
Wherefore should the heathen say, Where is now
thy God ? "

So positive, so unhesitating, is the Bible in asserting
the national and collective character of conscience.
It conceives an entire nation engaged in public and
concerted repentance for a public and collective
wrong. And our Prayer-book, by giving us this

172 A LENT IN LONDON.

passage as the keynote of Christian Lent, endorses
and emphasizes the reality of the conception.

Yet, somehow, we are always being told, we half
persuade ourselves, that a conscience can only be
individual ; that the sense of spiritual obligation to
God, such as is obviously involved in an act of
penitence, can only be a private and personal concern
of the individual soul ; that it is absurd to demand
of a corporate body, or of a nation, a sense of moral
responsibility or a consciousness of guilt.

Now, I would challenge this statement, that con-
science is an individual concern, at the very outset,
by asking whether the exact opposite be not nearer
the truth. Could a conscience exist at all, if it were
merely individual ? Can the mere individual man
account for his having a conscience ? If he were
quite alone, and had no necessary relationship to
any other being, would the language of conscience,
of moral obligation, have any meaning? We talk
of a man's duty to himself; but we are aware, as
we do so, that we are using a metaphor. Duty,
obligation, — these are binding terms ; they imply that
the man is under a moral compulsion; he owns
allegiance to a Power that he did not create, and
cannot disown. Something outside and beyond him
is involved. His life is assumed to have wider
horizons than belong to it in its purely self-regarding,
self-contained character. Whenever a man solemnly
assures us that he is bound by his conscience to
do whatever he likes best, or to seek his own highest
interest, he is greeted by us with the smile that he
deserves. And the ethical systems that start with the
individual as such, complete in himself, necessarily
set themselves to explain away conscience, as a
deposit of past habits ; as a shorthand sign for for-
gotten experiences ; as a mechanical result of accumu-
lated racial experiments ; as anything but what it is.

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. 173

No! conscience cannot exist without witnessing to
some relationship in which the soul stands to some-
thing beyond it. What is this something ? It can-
not be anything unconscious, material, mechanical.
No one ever felt himself bound by his conscience to
conform to the law of gravitation. It is a moral
relationship that is implied, and morality exists only
for persons. The obligation which conscience asserts
can only be an obligation of a person to a person.
That is why, if once we become satisfied that such a
thing as conscience exists, we have by that very fact
arrived at a necessary proof for the existence of
God ; since the very terms which we use to express
moral obligation are only intelligible in relation to a
Personality in which we adhere, and to which we are
bound. Far, then, from conscience being individual
in its character, it is dual, it is social, in its very
essence. It requires two persons, at least — God and
man — in relation to one another, to create a con-
science at all.

But more : conscience cannot be confined to an
act of the soul alone with its God. For, in making
its judgment, in becoming aware of its obligation, it
is forced to conceive of itself as typical, as represen-
tative of all men. Any act that claims to be con-
scientious, denies, by that claim, that it is peculiar to
any one individual. It must mean that it is such an
act as every one would own to be equally obligatory
under identical conditions. It must be an act that
witnesses to a law which is independent of private
and personal varieties. The moral necessity must be
recognizable by all as carrying its proper and un-
alterable authority with it. The particular conditions
under which it occurs may be wholly unique ; it
may be impossible for them to reoccur. Yet still
we must mean that any man in the world, if he had
ever found himself in that situation, must have done

174 A LENT IN LONDON

that one thing. Any act that is the duty of one man
must be capable of becoming a fundamental axiom
for all men ; so that no one can profess to obey his
conscience without acknowledging thereby that he
and all men have a common identity and a common
relationship.

Conscience, then, is essentially social. It is the
personal confession of our human unity. And, as
such, it constitutes the root-force of all civic coher-
ence. No society can endure for a moment that
has no conscience. This truth is expressed in its
lowest and in its most vivid terms by the saying,
"Honour among thieves." A gang of burglars
cannot carry through a bit of business unless they
can secure the stability of a common standard by
which their behaviour to one another is fixed. There
must be the germ of a spiritual conscience at the
back of their common action. So, again, if " a com-
pany " had indeed " no conscience," it would not only
have fallen below the level of thieves, but it would
cease to be a company, for it would be incapable of
holding together. Indeed, the inhumanity of " a com-
pany," which the phrase is often used to justify, is
generally defended on the ground that the directors
are responsible to the shareholders for every penny
they spend ; which is a plea, of course, that the com-
pany has a conscience, and a very rigid one, which it
is forbidden to ignore.

Conscience, then, is essentially a social organ ; and
human society is an expression of conscience. How
does it express it? (i) By law, and (2) by custom.

(i) The entire body of law, administrative and
criminal, is the record deposited by a people of the
moral standard to which it has attained in handling
its social responsibilities. We all know this, in the
broad. We turn back to Egyptian, to Roman, to
Mosaic law, and can estimate at once the degree

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. 175

of sensitiveness with which the public conscience was
then alive. We can note its measure of the sanctity
of human life, of individual freedom, of neighbourly
duties. And so, to-day, our public law tests the
virility of our social conscience. It is the evidence
of its condition. We find this out in a moment, if
we attempt to work a law which is unsupported by
the public conscience. It may be the best law in
the world, admirably framed, towards the most
excellent ends. But it will lie absolutely idle on the
Statute-book, it will prove totally inefficient, if it
has not behind it, as a motive force, the moral
consent of the nation. So, again, if once the criminal
law attempts to stamp as a public crime that which
the public conscience refuses to condemn, there is
an impasse, a dead-lock. The law will not work ;
it is discredited ; it spreads demoralization and a
distrust of all law. We have, alas ! learned this over
and over again, through many an agony, in Ireland.
Law does not, of course, attempt to cover the whole
field of morality as it affects the personal conscience ;
but there is a public moral sense of what it is rightful
to attempt under state responsibility, and what not ;
and it is this moral sense which is the vital and
essential soul of all public law, without which its
mechanism will not move. A nation's law is an
index of the normal level which the social conscience
has attained.

(2) And round and about a nation's positive
law lies the immense ring of its public customs.
These are the richest and most delicate evidence
of its social conscience. In these is fixed the
indelible record by which we can tell exactly what
is the value it sets on the human brotherhood,
on women, on children, on labour, on service. We
see precisely what, as a body corporate, it honours
and what it despises ; what it prizes and what it

1 76 A LENT IN LONDON.

neglects ; what are its public ideals and what its
public fears. And this, not accidentally, not accord-
ing to individual temperament, but according to the
recognized moral instincts, which are the common
property of the nation at large, and which are realised
in their permanent body of custom.

English law, English custom, — by these, then, this
social conscience here in England puts itself in
evidence. By these, it submits to judgment. These
are not merely protective defences to shield us from
dangerous incursions, or to prevent us from hitting
one another over the head. They are the positive
expression of our belief that England, as a whole, is
responsible for the character and fashion of English
life ; that she has her own peculiar methods and
principles, by which she controls and directs her own
development, and shapes it to a worthy fulfilment.
Here, in law and custom, all may see and know how
England understands her own work, as compared
with France, Germany, Russia ; how Englishmen
undertake their public responsibilities ; what an
Englishman understands by an English civilization.

Well, what is it? How does he understand it?
What is this scene to which he would invite a
foreigner, saying, " Look ! there is what we English-
men have made of England ! There is the genuine
sample of our free, self-governing community ! Look !
there is a city such as we English build. There is
the existence which, by law and by custom, we free
Englishmen have laboriously contrived. Let the
historian come and note it all down, as the sample
of what Englishmen can do to make human society
fair and honourable and pure."

Ah ! the bitter irony of such a proposal as we look
out of railway windows, in our passage to and fro from
city to suburb, at that dismal sight, which can never,
surely, lose its amazement and its terror. That sordid

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. 177

monotony of hideous streets into which we look as we
hurry through ! Those dingy, dismal, contemptible
courts ! The huddled filth of the back yards ! How
did it all come about ? How was it that we, by our
united efforts, arrived at such a result as that ? What
temper was it, what belief, what moral code, that went
to the making of it ? What public standard was there
at work in the minds of all those who brought it to
pass, as to the value of human life ; as to its proper
and natural environment ; as to the type of dwelling
that was fit for men and women to live in, for
children to be born and bred in ? How was it that
builders considered these houses adequate for their
purpose ; that municipal inspectors were satisfied
that they could not require anything better ? How
did it come to pass that any one had the face to
take a rent for them — and a high rent, too ? How is
it that a civilized Christian society has failed, by the
weight of its moral judgment, to make such things
inconceivable, intolerable ? Are not these the ques-
tions that storm again at the heart's doors, as we
rush along, for instance, in some express through the
heart of the Black Midlands ? A train gives us so
valuable an outlook, because it shows us exactly
what our life would appear to a spectator carried
through it, carried close to it, yet so far a stranger
that he can retain a free judgment, unswayed by
daily familiarity or local prejudice. And as we fly
past those degraded ash-heaps, to which men are
not ashamed to give names, as if they were human
towns ; as we catch sight of the few dirty, rackety
boards, loosely nailed together, which are called
Stations ; as we see the sodden, naked wastes of
rubble where alone the children have space to play
and breathe ; as we note the slimy foulness of the
canals where the poor boys are struggling to bathe ;
as our souls sink under all the wilful infamy of

N

178 A LENT IN LONDON.

the smoke-burdened skies ; we learn to gauge the
contempt for human life of which all this baseness
is the embodiment. Contempt ! Public social con-
tempt for human beings ! This alone can explain
why it was not thought worth while to meet the
common human needs with a little more attention,
a little more honour. No one who valued the body
and soul of a man could have given him such homes
to house in. No one who loved a child could ever
have had the heart to say, " There ! that black heap
of refuse from a coal-pit is all we can afford you for
a playground." Yet we English people do love our
own children, and in our own homes cherish rever-
ence and affection for one another. Yes ! it is not
the private standard that is deficient. Privately,
we do not despise human instincts and human
charities. The English love of hearth and family
survives in its traditional strength. But all this
kindly moral impulse is arrested, somehow, at the
house door. Outside — in the ordaining of the public
life, in the framing of our towns — there is no public
conscience that carries into general action the inner
mind of the English home, and demands that, in the
city as in the house, humanity shall be handled with
respect, with reverence, with tenderness, with some
touch of delicate affection. Therefore it is that we
have suffered these horrible growths to defile the
face of fair England, because the social conscience
pitches its demands at so terribly low a level. It
enforces so pitiful an estimate of what humanity
needs for a dwelling-place. It uplifts no fixed standard
to which honourable men recognize their obligation
to conform. It carries with it so little of rebuke, to
shame and to confound those who, in the pursuit of
their private interests, have created, or profited by, so
ignominious a scandal.

Positive law is, indeed, beginning to insist on

A SOCIAL CONSCIENCE. 179

some rudimentary decency and fitness in buildings
intended for man to live in. But law, unsupported,
toil in vain against ingrained custom. Nothing but
the pressure of the public conscience can avail to lift
our corporate life to a better level. It alone can
stem the multitudinous force of private greeds, in
face of which we, for all our regrets, find ourselves
so impotent. For are we not impotent ? Individually,
we, each one of us, bewail what our cities have
already become ; and yet we still sit by and permit
the same rush of private speculation to reproduce
the old intolerable conditions wherever populations
are now spreading for the first time. Private regrets
have proved powerless to prevent these things.

And therefore it is that we bid you come together
from out of your own private concerns and affairs in
Lent, and consider seriously, urgently, how to rein-
force the social conscience which is still so far behind
its work. Therefore it is that there is need to sound
a loud call in Zion. The reproach is a public
reproach. The responsibility is a public responsi-
bility. Let us bemoan together a common neglect.
Let us face a common task. Let each look out
from his own sins, and view the public peril. Let
each lay the burden home on his own soul. Nothing
will be changed until the public conscience changes
its demands. Therefore we say, " Let the trumpet
blow, and gather the people, and sanctify the congre-
gation. Assemble the elders. Let the priests, the
ministers of the Lord, weep between porch and altar,
saying, Spare Thy people, O Lord! give not Thine
heritage to reproach ! Wherefore should the heathen
say, Where is now thy God ? "

CHARACTER.

BY THE

REV. E. F. RUSSELL, M.A.,

Assistant Curate of St. Alban's, Holborn.

IT is no longer possible for any of us, on any plea,
to stand off and take no part in the great social
movement which at this moment is running politics
so close for the place of the dominant English in-
terest.

Things have gone too far to be decently ignored.
A new order, like a new flower upon an ancient stock,
is opening under our eyes ; a new patriotism, with its
new ideals of national greatness, has captured the
hearts of large numbers of the younger men, putting
dreams there, and the hope of good days to come, and
the will to labour for their coming. Whether or no
the movement be right in principle and action, to be
neutral is to be disloyal to the truth. If we cannot
defend, we must attack ; there is no logical resting-
place intermediate between the two positions. The
pretence of a philosophic caution and suspense of
judgment until all the facts are known, weighed,
organized, and reduced to a perfect rule of practice,
is in most cases but a thin mask to hide mental or
physical indolence, or the poor vanity of appearing
as a superior person ; as one who, with dispassionate
mind, surveys the battle from high ground and — be
it said — is safe !

CHARACTER. 181

To withhold our adhesion to any cause until we
are entirely satisfied with all its methods, and are
assured that all its chiefs are omniscient and all our
associates impeccable, is surely to fail in modesty,
and is about as reasonable as to refuse our help at a
fire because in our judgment the plan of procedure is
not the best, and the pumps not scientific in con-
struction. Fire will not wait for us, and human need
will not wait. We cannot postpone it to suit our
convenience. While we delay, men suffer and die,
opportunities pass never to return, and huge evils
establish themselves impregnably. With what power
and equipment we have, be it small or great, we
must bestir ourselves and do something, even
though we blunder and get bruised, and seem to
spend our strength in vain. To be doing something,
that is the great thing. Maybe God may use these
Lenten sermons to show us what that " something "
should be.

In the distribution of the topics of this course, the
subject which has been assigned to me may seem at
first somewhat beside the mark, for these are to be
u Sermons on Social Subjects." As a matter of fact,
character is a social force of a very high order, and
amongst the most effective of all the contributions
that a man can bring in support of the great cause of
social progress. It is not enough that the cause be
good, and founded on reason and love ; it has to gain
an open-hearted, weli-disposed hearing for its argu-
ment amidst a host of claimants who contend for
men's attention, and not all of whom deserve their
trust. Vigorous logic, the swing of eloquence, skill
in the clear and lucid presentation of ideas, — these
may do much ; but in the long run it is character
which more than anything wins patient hearing for
new and unwelcome truths. Men lower their swords
before it, and yield to it the trust which is never

1 82 A LENT IN LONDON.

refused to the disinterested. And then in associated
action it disposes men to unity, and does untold good
as an antiseptic to those dangerous germs of evil
which float inevitably in the air of all assemblies of
men.

All this is obvious enough ; there is, however, one
fact concerning character which may more easily
escape notice — I mean its value as an instrument for
the reception of truth.

It is sometimes forgotten that the intellect, the
heart, the will, are never in immediate contact with
the facts, arguments, motives, which may present
themselves. "Nous voyons tout," says Joubert, "a
travers nous memes. Nous sommes un milieu toujours
interpose entre les choses et nous."

The naked human intellect, the naked human will,
are abstractions which exist nowhere on earth except
on paper. Deep down they lie, clothed upon and
enfolded within an infinitely complex and elaborate
living envelope, the product and resultant of a thou-
sand blending and contending forces, some of which
have their beginning in the remote past, and some
are acting now, a spiritual house which we have built,
are always building, always secreting, as a mollusk
secretes its shell, out of the materials supplied by our
nature and our environment. This spiritual house
which -we inhabit is our character, and through its
windows all the light from the external world must
pass to reach the " hermit-spirit," which lives retired
and alone within ; as pure light if possible, but in
most cases to be more or less sifted of some rays, or
refracted, distorted, coloured, modified, if it be not
flung back by an absolute opacity.

Ideal character will supply a medium of pure
transparency to all the elements of truth, transmitting
its light and heat and force unalloyed and unabated
to the soul,

CHARACTER. 183

How far ideal character is attainable by us is a
question which will be answered differently according
as we put our question to natural ethics or to Chris-
tian ethics. In the outlines of the ideal character
there will not be much difference. Why should there
be, since both have one origin in the eternal law
which is the will of God ? There will be some differ-
ence, perhaps, in the order of the virtues ; and to
Christianity must be granted the incalculable advan-
tage of having, in the place of the "cold moral
imperative," its ideal embodied in a living Person — in
Jesus, the Incarnate Word.

One marked distinction, however, lies in the degree
of hope with which each system is able to inspire
mankind. It is scarcely just to generalize upon a
very insufficient acquaintance with the writers upon
natural ethics, but to me it seems as if the drift of their
teaching was tending more and more to the lower
levels of helplessness and fate, as if they held the
man doomed to become what heredity and environ-
ment may make him. He is in the piteous plight of
the condor in Kielland's little story, " At the Fair."
" In the hotel garden, beside the little fountain in the
middle of the lawn, sat a ragged condor attached to its
perch by a good strong rope. But when the sun shone
upon it with real warmth, it fell a-thinking of the snow-
peaks of Peru, of mighty wing-strokes over the deep
valleys, and then it forgot the rope. Two vigorous
strokes with its pinions would bring the rope up taut,
and it would fall back upon the sward. There it
would lie by the hour, then shake itself, and clamber
up to its little perch again."

In the face of the doctrine of original sin, no one
can accuse Christianity of ignoring heredity ; but its
protest against an inevitable and irresistible transmis-
sion of evil stands recorded on the first page of the
Gospel in the genealogy of the Lord, where, in 3

1 84 A LENT IN LONDON.

selection out of His human ancestry, the writers are
careful to inscribe the names of Thamar and Rahab
and Bathsheba.

Further, with His own hand, the Lord throws open
the highest places in His kingdom, not to the select
few, the exceptional natures well endowed and well
placed, but to the mixed multitude of men which was
wont to follow Him as He moved from place to place
— the Pharisee and Sadducee, rich and poor, scribes
and unlearned, publicans and sinners. "And seeing
the multitude, He said, Be ye perfect, even as your
Father in heaven is perfect." St. Paul hands on the
Master's lesson, where in one and the same Epistle he
exhorts men, whom he has had to reprimand for
flagrant vice, to break with it all, and walk worthy of
their vocation to be saints.

Upon what does the Christian ethic count to make
good this splendid confidence in the possible ultimate
success of all men ? Simply upon the Lord Jesus
Christ, His Word, His communicated Life, His Spirit.
The one preoccupation of apostolic men is to lead
men to Christ ; not to His memory, but to Himself, as
a living, personal Presence, to find in Him the grace
and truth by which all victories are possible. They
bid us come to Him, and take His yoke upon us, and
follow Him, assuming, as a matter of course, that we
can do so ; and they promise to all, without excep-
tion, who will draw nigh to Him, that He will draw
nigh to them, and will be with them and in them, and
they shall become like Him.

It is open to us to submit this method of the edu-
cation of character to the test of experiment, and
Lent invites us to do so. Why should we not do it,
and take some pains to learn of the gentlest, wisest,
kindliest Master how to become worthier workmen in
the worthiest cause ?

Early in His ministry He taught men that to see

CHARACTER. 185

God we must be pure in heart. Short of this beatific
vision there is much else which is visible only to the
pure. The pure in heart see man also ; and he who
sees man as in his inmost self he is, loves him per-
force ; and he who loves him will count it a joy to
serve him, and is bound to do him good.

THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF SIN.

BY THE

REV. W. C. GORDON LANG, M.A.
" For their sakes I consecrate Myself."— JOHN xvii. 19.

IF we look with any sort of candid self-examination
into ourselves, and follow the path of our past life,
we see at once that it is strewn with wreckage. Ail
around it, as it spreads out before the mind's eye,
are the memories of wrongs to self and others, of
meannesses untold, of base and unworthy surrenders,
the more ignoble often because so petty. It seems
clear that along with us on the journey of life has
travelled some malignant power, some force of habi-
tual perversion, which has turned effort to failure,
hope to disappointment, love to selfishness, good to
bad. We have struggled with it, sometimes over-
come it ; but there, in that long line of wreckage, is
the evidence that we have oftentimes been worsted.
Now, what is the feeling which this review of the
road of life arouses within us ? It is one of bitter-
ness, of self-contempt, of shame, of remorse. And
yet, why should it be so ? If this malignant power
which has accompanied us be some unthinking
mechanical force, affecting us as the force of gravity,
for example, affects our bodies, then the thought of
its past victories may justify indifference or stimulate
to defiance ; it will not fill us with remorse. If we
have suffered merely from some unfortunate physical

THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF SIN. 187

tendencies, which we did not create, for which we are
not responsible, then I can imagine the feelings of
resignation, or resentment, or despair, but not of re-
morse. Has it been merely my natural imperfection,
the immaturity of my self-development, then I might
be conscious of regret, of disappointment, of im-
patience ; but, again, not of remorse. Once again,
am I to think of this remorse itself as only one more
strange excitement of nervous tissues, gendered by
an impassive physical evolution of which I myself am
but a phase ? It cannot be ; it is impossible to con-
ceive that such a blind force can produce a conviction
which criticizes, accuses, despises itself.

No ; the experience of remorse is a witness to the
truth that for this companion-power of perversion I
am myself responsible ; that it is part of me ; it is
myself whom I accuse. Let me rail as I please with
indignation at the iniquity of Fate, or physical con-
struction, the prophetic voice of conscience impera-
tively rejoins, " Thou art the man." I know that
there was that in me which was all along capable of
goodness, equal to the combat. It was I who resisted,
when I might have wholly been, this better self; and
it is this knowledge which begets remorse.

Let us look out of self to society. There, again,
the path of social history is strewn with a like
wreckage. The human race itself — and not least
that part of it which we call civilized — has been
plainly " implicated in some great disaster." And
there, again, if we think it out, we know that the dis-
aster has been wrought, not by the inevitable pressure
of blind force, not by the mere weakness of imperfec-
tion, but by the action and reaction upon themselves,
and upon the conditions of nature in which they
have been placed, of perverse individual wills.

We know — it is a knowledge which every develop-
ment of thought and discovery of science makes

1 88 A LENT IN LONDON.

clearer — that as no man liveth, so no man sinncth,
to himself. I do not speak only of those gross
offences which plainly violate social order and
security, and which society punishes in its own way,
but also of the sins of the secret inner life. There
also sin is social. It is so, first, positively. We
see this most clearly in the fact of the influence of
heredity. The evil tendency which has not been
resisted and checked in the individual life becomes
the strong bias in its progeny. Or, again, who can
estimate the subtle effects in others of the mere
intercourse of character? The germ of a look, a
tone, a casual word, may fall into the congenial soil
of some other person, and there fructify in fully
developed sin. And secondly, negatively, the truth
is not less certain. All power for good works through
individual men ; and where their inner life is weak
and effortless, without dynamic convictions, this
power is checked, hindered, thwarted. So many of
the possible channels through which goodness can
prevail over the world are closed. These indifferent,
fruitless, thin, dissipated characters are, indeed, col-
lectively a great force of negation — a dead weight
keeping down the rise of a common good. They
maintain and spread that denseness to heroic stan-
dards of life and duty, that dreadful callousness
which stifles moral effort. The greatest " anti-social "
force is thus the sinfulness or the stagnation of
individual wills.

Now, in our day we are becoming intensely con-
cerned about "social evils." This very series of
sermons is a witness to the fact, and it is well. But
we must remember that these " social evils " are not
causes, but results — results of the perverseness or
poverty of individual wills. A commonplace, doubt-
less, but yet one of those commonplaces which we
have especial need to reassert. It is precisely the

THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF SIN. 189

neglect of this truism which accounts for the depress-
ing contrast between the apparatus of social reform
and the real advance of social goodness. It is con-
stantly forgotten that a change in social conditions,
however desirable in itself, may be only a change in
the sphere of activity of still perverse individual wills.
Thus, e.g., suppose the most complete public control
of all traffic in drink, the most effective public sup-
pression of all trade in vice. Yet, in spite of this, the
evil will, the real root of the disease, may be left
untouched. It may only force its operations inward,
and reassert itself in domestic drinking or secret
vice, and thus work greater havoc, just because it is
hidden and insidious. Again, let us remember that
a community may hold itself up as an example of
" municipal morality " and yet be a community of
Pharisees. The sinful will may leave the sins of the
flesh, and feed on the sins of the soul. Let us con-
stantly remember that it was not the publican and
the harlot, but the self-righteous Pharisees, who cruci-
fied the Son of man. Or, again, socialistic legislation
may erect an admirable fabric of institutions, political
and industrial, on the basis of an assumed "social
sentiment," and yet ere long the unreformed indi-
vidual will may prove the hollowness of that founda-
tion. It may intrigue for its own selfish ends through
all this network of social machinery. There could
be few spectacles more hideous than that of a
socialistic state organized in the name of common
humanity, and worked in the interests of self-seeking
individuals or groups. It would be the perfect type
of an " organized hypocrisy." And thus no amount
of eager energy in the promotion of social reform
must be allowed to drive out of sight that simplest,
yet deepest and most imperative problem, — how is
the individual will to be touched, inspired, sustained ?
Let us personalize the problem. We here, I will

A LENT IN LONDON.

assume, are in our way, and rightly, social reformers.
But place a perverse individual will before ourselves,
what force have we to change it ? The process of
contenting ourselves with public movements, with
the efforts of municipalities and committees, and of
leaving this individual work to others, cannot go on
indefinitely. The laity throw the burden on the
clergy, and the clergy are only too often tempted to
decline it for the more exciting and encouraging
work of creating and managing social schemes and
institutions. And yet that perverse will must be
dealt with, else the root of the tree remains.

Look at the truth from another aspect. Society-
it is another of those commonplaces which the cen-
tury neglects — is, after all, only the men and women
who compose it. The " public conscience," of which we
hear so much, is, after all, only the conscience of men
and women like you and me. The neglect of this
truism is responsible for that cloud of vague rhetoric
into which much current social enthusiasm dissolves.
It is sternly true that the only prevailing social force
is the power of single righteous wills, of individual
men who realize in themselves what they hope for
others. If Christ is, as we claim Him to be, the Ruler
of society, He can rule only through individual men,
who know Him and yield obedience to His will, and
are trained by His love.

There is, then, a real danger lest, in our eagerness
to remove social evils, their real root, and the only
power which can uproot them, should be forgotten.
It is a danger that specially concerns the Church.
She is, thank God, awaking to a sense of her mission
to man as a social as well as an individual being.
But, in the very eagerness of this awakening, there
are signs that she may easily forget that her power
in society depends upon the personal consecration
of her members. She can be effective as a public

THE SOCIAL ASPECT OF SIN. 191

institution only when she is primarily a company of
personally consecrated men and women — " members
of Christ," in whom He dwells, through whom He
works upon the world as its Redeemer. The danger
also affects individuals whose conscience urges them
to take some part in the warfare against social evil.
In St. Paul's description of the panoply of the
Christian knight, the sword, with which the attack
against the evil is to be made, is named profoundly
a "word" or "spoken thing of God" (prjfjia Gcov).
The power of attack depends upon hearing the sum-
moning voice of God in the solitary depths of a man's
own soul. The true reformer must first of all be
himself a prophet ; his motto, " Thus saith the Lord;"
a man " in whom high God has breathed a secret
thing."

Let me quote the words of Dean Church : " The
soul has, indeed, to think and to work with others,
and for great aims and purposes out of and beyond
itself. For others and with others, the first part of
its earthly work is done. But first the soul has to
know this sublime truth about itself, that it stands
before the Everlasting by itself, and for what it is."
For the sake of the unfairly hindered or the op-
pressed, we need social reforms ; but for the sake of
these reforms, we need most of all great characters.
It is they, and they alone, who can influence the will
of others, and make reform a reality. And strength
of personal character is wrought, not always or even
best in the stress of social activity, but chiefly in the
wrestling of a man's own soul with the unseen God.
We look out with ardour on the great social war
between justice and injustice, good and evil, and we
are eager to take our place within it ; but let us
remember that our power to prevail depends upon
the issue of that same combat in the arena of our
inner self. We can only conquer the sins of others

IQ2 A LENT IN LONDON.

by the weapons with which God has conquered ours.
There is no one to whom the question comes more
pertinently than to the social reformer, "What
shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world " —
convince overwhelming majorities of the utility of his
schemes, and see them everywhere adopted — " and
lose his own soul ? " The greatest social truth ever
uttered was that spoken by the Son of man, as He
passed into the great struggle by which He overcame
the evil of the world, "For their sakes I consecrate
Myself" It was this power of perfect personal con-
secration in one single human will which gave the
world the gift of redeeming life. And still, the only
abiding force of social redemption is the force of
single wills surrendered to the will of God.

PERSONALITY.

BY THE

REV. A. CHANDLER, M.A.,

Rector of Poplar, E., late Fellow and Tutor of Brasenose College,

Oxford.

' ' What is man ? "— Ps. viii. 4.

WE know the answer given in the logic books, " Man
is a rational animal," an animal amongst animals, and
yet marked off from his fellow-beasts by a rational
endowment This answer may not be very satisfac-
tory, and doesn't take us very far ; but, at any rate,
it touches upon that which is the central mystery, the
crucial problem, the eternal perplexity of man —
namely, his twofold nature. Body and soul, — man
is in some way or other a compound of the two.
We may give prominence to whichever element we
please. We may call him either a rational animal or
an incarnate spirit. Whichever way we put it, the
fact remains the same, that man consists of two
elements, utterly distinct and heterogeneous, and
yet inseparably fused together and interacting in a
way that defies analysis. Body and soul, — most
philosophers start by recognizing the two, and yet
almost invariably end by snubbing, ignoring, or
denying the reality of one. And so they range
themselves into opposite camps — materialists and
idealists, sensationalists and transcendentalists — and

o

194 A LENT IN LONDON.

stand out as the champions respectively of the body
against the soul, or the soul against the body.

Now, the great characteristic of the Christian view
of man is, that it is free from this one-sided, partisan,
sectarian character. The Christian theory of man is
catholic and comprehensive, true to the facts, ex-
pressing all, garbling none. Ideal and transcendental?
Certainly ; Christianity is that. Man, she declares, is
a spirit, made a little lower than the angels, made in
the image of God, endowed here and hereafter with
an eternal life which flesh and blood cannot inherit.
But does it follow that the body is of no account,
and worse than none ; that the body is an accident
and a nuisance, irrelevant and deplorable ; that whilst
living in the flesh the soul is chained to a corpse,
from which death is a welcome release ; that only
after death does man gain his true freedom and
achieve his ideal nature as a disembodied spirit?
" No," said the Christian Church, in a strain of
thorough-going materialism — "no; I believe the
body is not bad, but good ; the body was meant to
help the soul, and not impede it ; it is the adoption
or redemption of the body, not its destruction, that
is wanted ; we don't want to be disembodied spirits,
and don't believe we shall be, for we believe in the
resurrection of the body."

Body and soul are united in a close sacramental
union. Each element has its own reality, its own
function, its own value ; the outward and visible
body moving and working as the delicate instrument,
the sensitive medium, for an inward and spiritual life
breathed into it by God Himself.

This Christian doctrine of the equal partnership
of body and soul in the same person has important
applications, i. The sacredness of the body itself. As
long as the body was regarded as something separate
and disconnected from the soul, the neglect and

PERSONALITY. 195

misuse of the bodily life was very natural. People
around might starve and freeze and agonize, but
these things touched the body only ; they might and
did issue in death, but then death was only the
deliverance of the soul from its prison-house. Why
interfere with such a blessed consummation ? Why
not rather see in it a sign of Divine providence and
mercy ? And so philosophy turned " procuress to the
lords of hell," and supplied the well-to-do with a good
excuse for doing nothing for the misery about them.
And, again, what could it matter what use they them-
selves put their bodies to ? The body was only a
brute beast, without any share in the splendour of
human personality. A brute beast which might be
treated in different ways according to the tempera-
ment of its owner ; it might be indulged and
humoured by the Cyrenaics, or it might be scorned
and neglected by the Stoics. But in either case
philosophy condemned it as an outcast, degraded
and disinherited. The body was a beast ; drunken-
ness and lust were only natural to it. Let the body,
then, wallow in these, whilst the soul pursued the
even tenor of her way, and, undisturbed by the
brutalism of the body, lived her own rational and
spiritual life.

But to the Christian, who understands the elements
of his faith, this treatment of the body in himself or
others is for ever impossible. The creation of man
was a sacrament celebrated by God Almighty — a
sacrament in which the material was taken up into
the spiritual, in which body and soul were knit
together in a union which it is sacrilege to put
asunder. That sacrament was repeated when the
Word was made flesh in the womb of the Blessed
Virgin, and is continued by the indwelling of the
Holy Ghost in His temple of man's body. Any
injury, therefore, which stunts, or starves, or maims

196 A LENT IN LONDON.

man's body is an injury to man himself, and is an
injury for which, in the solidarity of the human race,
our manhood is responsible. Christ, the universal
Man with human body, is fasting over again in the
wilderness, and thirsting over again on the cross in the
bodily hunger and thirst which we allow our brothers
and sisters to suffer from ; hunger and thirst which
are bodily indeed, but which also assault and hurt
the soul by robbing it of faith in goodness, human
or Divine. We Christians dare not, then, be indifferent
to the bodily suffering of others. Such indifference
would be sheer blasphemy against all the Persons of
the Blessed Trinity, each one of Whom has taught
us, by creation, incarnation, and indwelling, the
sacredness of human flesh and blood.

And so with the misuse of our own bodies. The
degradation of man's body is the degradation of his
manhood. To treat our body as a brute is to
brutalize ourselves. The body has no animal in-
dependence of its own ; it is saturated with the soul ;
it is interpenetrated with the life and impulses and
aspirations of the soul. To think that the body can
be brutalized by self-indulgence or impurity, and
yet that the soul can remain in communion with
God, is an absurdity, a lie. Man is one ; his whole
nature must rise or fall together. With the bru-
talizing of the body there goes also the blinding of
the soul. The "carnal" man becomes also the
" natural " man, who has lost his higher perceptions,
who jests at religious enthusiasm, to whom spiritual
things are foolishness. Here we see the meaning of
the fasting, the discipline, and the asceticism to
which Lent calls us. The object of these things is,
not to pour contempt upon the body by unmeaning
self-denial, but just the opposite — to make it worthy
of its high position ; to keep it in tune with the
spirit ; to remind it that even in this life it is a

PERSONALITY. 197

"spiritual body," and that, therefore, the spiritual
life is natural, and sensuality is unnatural ; to save it
from becoming merely an " animal " body ; to prevent
it from asserting a spurious independence of its own,
which is really its own degradation, and at the same
time the corruption of the spirit. The natural soul
and flesh are one man, and that one man cannot
and must not be rent asunder.

2. And the other point I wanted to suggest to you
is, that the Christian doctrine of human personality
(that the rational soul and flesh are one man) enables
us to form a definite idea of a futztre life. Nearly
every philosophy and religion has taught that a part
of us is immortal, that the soul in some form or
other survives the death of the body. But as we
question them about the nature of this life beyond
the grave, it seems to dwindle away to nothing. Is
it a life, we ask, in which we shall remember the
existence which went before? Shall we recognize
there those whom we knew and loved here? Will
the human affections survive and be continued ? No,
say the philosophers, there will be no memory, no
recognition, no affection ; for in all of these the bodily
senses have their part, and there is no body in the
future life. Any message, says Aristotle, which
reaches the dead from this world, reaches them as
a faint confused murmur, a tale of little meaning,
though it may be a tale which treats of the fortune
of their nearest and dearest friends. What does
survive, then ? Something very vague and shadowy ;
a mere form of personal identity without any sub-
stance or reality. Thus, according to these thinkers,
there is no real personal life continued beyond the
grave ; and the reason is, that in this real personal
life as we know it, the body is an integral element ;
and that, therefore, if the body does not rise again,
we shall not be the same persons in the future life

198 A LENT IN LONDON.

that we are in this. Without the resurrection of the
body there can be no personal immortality. We see
a suggestion of this in Homer. When Ulysses
descends to the lower world, the ghosts gather round
him eager and curious ; but they are powerless to
recover their memory or tell him their stories until
they have drunk of the blood of the sacrifice which
he had offered. No ; unless the body survives, it
won't help us to insist on the immortality of the
soul : that may only mean that the soul is reabsorbed
into the universal life of the world — an unconscious
immortality which is in no sense a continuation of
the personal life which we know. But the Church of
Christ is in earnest about this personal future life,
and with a true instinct insists ton the necessary con-
dition of its reality. Assuming the soul's immortality
as a truism too familiar to need asserting, she boldly
and calmly declares her belief in the resurrection of
man's body. In this way alone, when the soul is re-
united to a body, can there be a real continuance
of personal life. Then, and then only, shall we be
the same people, with those human affections and
memories which make up so much of the life of each
of us. As to the nature of that resurrection-body we
can only form vague conjectures. St. Paul tells us
that it will be related to the body laid in the grave
in the same way as the fresh blade of wheat is related
to the seed that has been sown in the ground.
Different from the old, yet organically connected
with it. There is sown a natural body, there is
raised a spiritual body — a spiritual body which shall
be the appropriate partner for a cleansed and purified
soul.

Such, then, is the Christian doctrine of personality
in this world and the next ; a perfect union of soul
and body ; a sacramental union in which the body is
in this life sanctified and called to a spiritual service,

PERSONALITY. 199

and so prepared and made fit to be raised again as
a spiritual body, a member in a perfect personal life
in heaven.

And one word in conclusion. Christ insists that
the body shall be a yokefellow of the spirit in the
same sense in which Christians are now insisting that
trade and commerce and the other institutions of
society shall be made amenable to the ordinary
principles of morality. It is sin which makes the
body independent of the spirit, or business transac-
tions independent of morality. Business has its
spiritual side, from which it cannot be divorced with-
out ruin and degradation. The body — the busy,
active, outward and visible body — must be ruled and
regulated by the soul. But Christians who aim at
such a purification of business, in points where
purification is still required, may start the work on a
smaller scale and nearer home. Let us see to it that
our own bodies are in harmony with the promptings
of the soul ; that no sectarian independence is allowed
to the animal nature, but that the spiritual is supreme
throughout. Then we can go out with clean hands
and a pure heart to take part in the larger work
outside ; to insist that social institutions, which are
"body" on a larger scale, shall likewise be regulated
by spiritual and moral principles, and that the
kingdoms of this world shall throughout and in every
department be the kingdoms of God and of His
Christ

LOSING THE SOUL TO SAVE IT.

BY THE

REV. PREBENDARY EYTON,
Rector of Holy Trinity, Upper Chelsea.

" Whosoever will save his life shall lose it : and whosoever will lose
his life for My sake shall find it." — MATT. xvi. 25.

AGAIN and again in the New Testament is this
paradox forced on our notice in praise of unselfish-
ness. Where the life or soul (for the word is the
same in the Greek) of man is concerned, we are told
that the words losing and gaining, keeping or flinging
away, saving or abandoning, become inverted. There
is a saving which is losing, and a losing which is the
only lasting saving.

And this way of speaking is not meant to puzzle
us. There is nothing in the New Testament which
is merely intended to startle or to be used for sensa-
tional effect ; every surprising statement has an object
which cannot be attained in any other way. So
Christ's words here are not meant merely to make
us experience an emotion, but to make us think,
ponder, and consider. What is that losing which is
a saving ? That is our question.

There was a day when the answer was easy ; cir-
cumstances made it easy to the first disciples and
their converts ; there would be no difficulty then in
understanding what kind of losing the soul or life

LOSING THE SOUL TO SAVE IT. 201

that was which would save it. There was a losing
which often came very near them, and their willing-
ness to lose their life or soul in that fashion, whenever
tested, admitted of no doubt or hesitation. There
was suffering and shame, the stake and the sword, on
the one hand ; and on the other, immunity and com-
fort. To them the choice was simple : would they
choose death that they might live the only life worth
living — the life of faith and of holiness ; or would
they choose life that they might die the worst of
deaths — the inward death of the apostate and the
coward.

Then the alternative was simple and easy to
understand ; the paradox ceased to puzzle ; it be-
came full of lucidity. And so now sometimes there
is an application of the words which so far corre-
sponds to that one, that the difficulty is not felt, at
any rate, seriously. There is sometimes an apparent
losing of the life by honesty, or truth, or honour, by
preferring these to self-interest, and gain, and false-
hood, which is felt to be the only real keeping, just
as there is a keeping of life by dishonesty or con-
cession of principle, which is felt to be, owned to be,
the most absolute loss.

The man who buys ease with dishonesty, or popu-
larity by giving up his principles, as certainly loses
his real life in trying to save it, as the man who sets
his face like a flint, and refuses to hear the voice of
the charmer, assuredly keeps it. There is no difficulty
here ; when we take the paradox out into actual life,
we see how imperative it is that man should often
seem to lose his soul by self-abandonment and by
self-conquest, if he is really to save it.

But go a little further, and the difficulty recurs,
the paradox begins to baffle again. Here is the
religious man of a certain type ; he is nervous and
anxious about himself; either he has got a taint of

202 A LENT IN LONDON.

the dark side of Puritanism in his blood, or he has
inherited from a succession of pious forefathers their
view of God, that He is a hard master, only to be
propitiated by a rigorous round of prayers, and
penances, and fastings, and religious exercises ; he
thinks that if he can persevere with these he may
somehow wriggle into heaven. And so he takes a
thoroughly valetudinarian view of the whole matter
of soul-saving ; he shuts his soul up in a sick chamber,
and he doses it with spiritual exercises ; perhaps he
hates fasting, but he dreads the future too much to
refrain from it ; perhaps prayers are a weariness to
him, but his nervous terrors force him to pray, be-
cause by it he will " save his soul ; " and all the while
in spiritual vitality his soul pines and sickens. Should
any one make a claim on him for service, his instinct
is to refuse ; he tells himself that he is very sorry
he cannot help, but he is afraid of risking his own
salvation ; he must watch himself, and if he goes into
the thick of common, human, irreligious life, if he
goes among the publicans and sinners, he might be
infected by their bad example, he might become one
of them. So he shuts his soul up in a warm, close,
devotional atmosphere, and lives, as he thinks, to
the glory of God, where there are no chill blasts of
worldliness or of common interests blowing upon
him — he will save his soul. And yet do we not
feel, with his poor, thin, deteriorating character, that
every day he is losing it ?

Or, again, there is the mechanical religionist, the
man who is not merely frightened by nervous emo-
tion, who does not think of God as being so much
a hard master, as a merely mechanical being. He
has a quantitative theory of devotion, and a mecha-
nical theory of life ; he will do so much church, so
much prayers, so much self-denial, so much alms-
giving, all as a matter of hard duty. He will keep

LOSING THE SOUL TO SAVE IT. 203

a bit of his soul curtained off as a kind of sanctuary
— there is his religion — and with that and its obser-
vances nothing shall interfere, but the rest of his life
is his own ; he may be a harsh father, a bullying
advocate, a bitter enemy, a swindling director, a
taker of fees for which he does no work — he may
be all this, he may be losing day by day every
vestige of honour and generosity, and yet he may
all the time be believing, and even be firmly con-
vinced that, because of the religion which he keeps
so carefully shut off in its water-tight compartment,
he is saving his soul. We cannot have kept our eyes
open if we have not known such cases ; we may even
be such people ourselves. The worst of it is that,
if it be so, we are likely to become so adept at self-
deception. No one seems so morally and spiritually
hopeless as the man who has a little dried-up religion
in a bit of his life ; he keeps it like a pea in a box,
and if some day some wandering evangelist gives
him a pang of discomfort, he shakes his box, the
pea rattles, and he is in a blaze of triumph. " Why,
there is my religion ; I fast twice in the week, I go
to church, I pray morning and evening, I keep from
bad company, I believe in God's Revelation ; I am
saving my soul."

All the while the soul, the life, the character, the
self, sickens and pines and dies under such treat-
ment ; the religious element is dried up by being
divorced from the real interests of life, and from the
love of the great Father. The child-feeling towards
God, by which man grows, is deadened by nervous
fears; the attitude becomes, "I dare not though I
would," and at last the soul is lost by being saved.

These are the failures. How, then, are we to grasp
the inmost teaching of this paradox — to lose the
soul in order to save it ?

The soul must brace itself by vigorous exercises ;

204 A LENT IN LONDON.

it lives by free air and sunshine, as the body does ;
it must commit itself to the vicissitudes of life, to the
toss and tumble of this common life ; it must be
jostled and bothered by human unreasonableness,
and saddened by human distress ; it must learn to
bear roughness and uncultivated ways ; it must spend
and be spent ; it must lose itself that it may be saved.
It must do something for others, and for those others
who need it most. It must not say, " I live for the glory
of God," unless it can say also, " I live for the service
of man ; " and to serve man brings one into difficulty,
for man is often hard to serve. He is not always
lying in bed anxious for your visit, willing to let you
talk and give him your blessing and your shilling
and let you go. He is in trouble. He is bothered
about how he is to live physically, or he has got
into trouble by his own fault, or he is such a weak
molluscous creature that you cannot find a firm bit
to grasp him by. You don't know what to be at
with him. The only thing he does not seem to want
is to give you a chance of really helping him. If
you might give him a shilling to get rid of him, and
let him get drunk in your honour, it would be easy ;
but then you would be saving yourself, and pushing
him into deeper damnation. Or he comes to you
with his sad story of low wages and long hours, and
your dividends boil in your pocket ; you feel that
somehow you have saved yourself by losing him ; but
how are you to help it ? You mutter some economic
principle about competition, or buying in the cheapest
market. You do not see where you individually are
to come in. Or your better self prevails, and you
begin to cast about for ways to help, and you make
your voice heard at company meetings in favour of
the oppressed. Of course, everybody hates you, and
looks on you as an impostor and a sneak, but some-
how there rises up within you a conviction that in

ur rue

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LOSING THE SOUL TO SA VE IT. 205

flinging your soul into these hopeless enterprises you
are finding it more clearly, and building it up more
securely, than you ever did before. You find that
the habit of taking trouble to understand others, and
discarding prejudices, and looking facts in the face,
is freeing you, is bringing you forth into a place of
liberty, and undoing the burden of sin which has
pressed you down. For if you want to save your
soul by helping your brother-man, you must part
with all your desire to help him as you think he
ought to want to be helped, and you must go to
him where he is. That is often the only way of
losing your soul so as to save it at this present
hour. You must find out where your brother is, and
sacrifice yourself for him there. The failure of so
much religious effort in these days lies just in this —
that it does not try to find people out where they are.

Everywhere the same law haunts you : you must
lose your soul to save it. It may be sorrow has
come to you ; death has darkened your home, or
undeserved shame has come to you ; your children
have proved ungrateful, or your friends fail you. You
would shut yourself up and stiffen into stone. You
say all is vanity — friendship and gratitude ; only let us
keep our religion ; and lo ! you find it, too, gone — as
a source of comfort and help. Ah ! go forth, and try
to help others ; there is no such cure for sorrow as
to share the burden of others ; no such salvation from
trial as to lose your soul in deeds of mercy. You
must fling your soul into the sorrows of others if you
are to bear your own, as our Master did.

Or, you have fallen into sin. The gratification at
the time was sweet and alluring, but the retrospect is
dark, bitter, and loathsome ; a stained and spotted
manhood, a lost self-respect, a torturing remorse — all
is bitter. In the darkness of despair, in the agony of
self-condemnation, you drain the loathsome dregs of

206 A LENT IN LONDON.

that bitter cup. What must you do ? Surely there
is no salvation for you, too, but in losing your soul in
works of love. Spend Ash Wednesday in repent-
ance ; weep before Eternal Love ; but go to-morrow
and lose your soul in some energetic work ; spend
yourself in alleviating some misery, in undoing some
oppression, in reforming some vice. Fling your soul
away that you may recover it after many days —
purified, strengthened, renewed.

" There is no gain except by loss,
Nor glory but by bearing shame,
Nor justice but by taking blame."

Only in strong, resolute, manly effort to help your
fellow-men will strength come back ; only because
you love much, and show your love by sacrifice, can
your many sins be forgiven ; only thus will the
sovereign power of the Divine paradox become clear
and vivid to you : " Whosoever will lose his life for
My sake shall find it."

CHRIST THE SOCIAL RECONCILER.

BY THE

REV. T. C. FRY, D.D.,
Headmaster of Berkhamsted School.

" There can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither bond
nor free, there can be no male and female : for ye are all one man in
Christ Jesus."— GAL. iii. 28.

OUR class division — that is just another name for
the social question. Men talk at times as if even to
speak of such a thing as class division were to create
it ; as if it were to stir up to strife the lion and the
lamb who would otherwise have lain down together.
But it is the social conditions themselves, and not the
references to them, that create the strife. The agita-
tor may embitter the strife, but he does not create
the strife, nor create the conditions ; it is the con-
ditions that create the agitator. Nay, more : so long
as the conditions exist, is not the Christian himself
bound to be in some sense an agitator, if by that we
mean a man who refuses to remain silent, because
silence is least disturbing? At all events, none can
deny that wide divisions exist : angry workmen over
against angry employers ; cities of the poor, grimly
monotonous, beside the quarters of the rich ; large
bodies of labour brought by a sudden frost to famine,
while capital cannot find employment ; whole tracts
of human beings of the same blood, the same faith,
the same country, without insight into each other's

208 A LENT IN LONDON.

fears and hopes : here are the divisions, fruitless and
deepening, created by our civilization, half ignored
by our politics, calling aloud to our religion.

The divisions exist, palliate them as we may. The
causes, no doubt, are manifold. Some evils are self-
caused ; no one class is entirely to blame. But, when
the flood is on us, it matters little who broke down
the dyke. The flood must be stemmed ; so the
divisions must be reconciled. How shall we do it ?
Some men think to reconcile us to them by optimism
in figures : the national wealth is growing, they say.
But that only intensifies the sense of injustice, if ours,
for all our struggle, lessens. If the national wealth
has grown faster than the population, and yet this
abyss of poverty lessens not, then distribution must
be inadequate, and organization deeply at fault. If,
again, it is an inexorable law beyond our ethical
control that the race is to the swift and the battle to
the strong, then farewell, once that is fully realized,
to the well-being of a more fortunate but selfish few.
If the poor are better off than their grandfathers, yet,
we may ask, in proportion to the wealth they have
helped to create, are they as well off as justice
demands? If it is essential to point out to the poor
how loss of character creates loss of skill, is this a
just utterance, unless we also tell the monopolist, the
rackrenter, the ground landlord, the licensed victu-
aller, that they help, one or the other of them, to
suffer or to create, for their own personal profit, the
environment that makes character decay ?

No, indeed ; the logic of the beati possidentesy the
" inexorable laws " of older economists, the analogy
of lower nature — red in tooth and claw, — the statistics
of the Board of Trade, the eidola of the legal mind,
will not reconcile the long estrangement of a human
family, of men who should be brothers, of sons of a
common Father.

CHRIST THE SOCIAL RECONCILER. 209

"Sirs, ye are brethren/' That is the keynote of
restored harmony. Brethren can only be reconciled
by the pressure and force of love. All else must fail,
is failing ; this alone, where success is, is the cause
of it : " Sirs, ye are brethren/' Because you are
brethren, you must meet, confer, talk it out : those
who can, out of larger purse or greater leisure, must
form a bridge of living personal sympathy between
west and east or south ; university settlements must
multiply; more employers, with the old Franciscan
self-devotion, must live amongst their people ; Chris-
tian men of wealth, young men whose hearts are not
stiffened in money's mould, must give "all they
have " to found, so to speak, Familistires with labour
as copartner. The copartnership of labour, in every
possible form, that is the next step in fraternal
evolution. After all, beside our common brother-
hood, in Christ's Name, what else can have a claim on
you ? You would die together for your wives and
children in some new mutiny ; you would go down
together, ennobled by mutual faith, on the deck of
some new Birkenhead ; and are you to fight a bitter
agelong battle for vested interests in social life alone,
when human nature, duty, God, are your joint ideals
in any scene of danger or daring beyond the
common ?

Yes, the reconciliation of estranged men — that is the
first thing we have to work for. It is not impossible
to formulate conditions of reconciliation between
estranged men. There must be, to create the very
desire of peace, an overmastering attraction of motive ;
there must be a spring of sympathetic feeling, the
magnetism of personal contact, a belief in character
above all material issues ; an unqualified acceptance
of mercy, justice, love ; a community of hopes fostered
on a plane high above the material plane, which is
the scene of conflict.

p

210 A LENT IN LONDON.

In other words, you must on both sides wish for
social peace; you must feel for the stress of the
other side ; you must quicken your sense of brother-
hood ; you must wish to have and to share the
essential conditions of a higher manhood ; your ideals
must be of nobler stuff than those of the old cash
nexus.

And how are these conditions to be satisfied ? We
answer fearless of contradiction — in Christ alone.
Realize your common brotherhood in Him, and you
crush yourself; you will see Him, you will serve Him,
in the humblest of His members ; you will, after Him,
"empty yourself" to bless thereby the sunken, the
fallen, even the less happy ; in Him you cannot
labour for the " meat that perisheth," save that with
it you may create for yourself, and no less for others,
at least that material minimum without which religion
itself can scarce find foothold in the bodily life. We
cannot be unmerciful, whilst we enjoy ; unjust, whilst
we reap ; unloving, while others harden for want of
sympathy and brotherhood.

These are Christian principles, embodied in the
Divine Manhood. Thus was He reincarnated in His
members, in the martyrs, the great Orders, in the
earlier and higher ideals of guilds and hospitals and
brotherhoods. And, to save society, we just must go
back to the old fountain-head of Christian sacrifice.
Rank is nought, wealth nought ; brotherhood is all.
Let us make up our minds that great changes are
coming, are inevitable, are just, and let us surrender
the moth and the rust. "Welcome," let us say,
" many changes, if thereby we may rid England of
social hate and social wrong." You can spare, let us
say to the well off, a good deal yet, without touch-
ing the environment that creates character. In
fact, your character will be better and purer for
less self-indulgence. And even of what is left, as

CHRIST THE SOCIAL RECONCILER. 211

well as of what is taken, you can still share in much
that makes life happy in common, and not arrogant
alone.

It is possible that the work of reconstruction may
carry us far beyond the horizon of the changes that
we think we now can see. We may easily learn
hereafter to accept or even welcome changes that
would seem revolutionary to-day. All that is now
essential is that we should lay aside the love of our
individual or class supremacy, that we should look
straight at our social needs, suspect the spirit of hate
and division, and manifest in all ways, single and
common, our sense of brotherhood in Christ, the social
Reconciler.

Do not let us deceive ourselves ; society is certainly
going to be largely reconstructed, or evolved — which
you will. It is essential to its continuity. An organism
must grow or die. The question is not, " How can
we stop as we are ? " That is impossible. Rather it
is this : " You have an alternative before you : which
will you work for?" Disguise it as we may, the
choice will soon be seen to be between materialism
and Christ. There is no third alternative. If, as a
man, you believe in nothing beyond the struggle for
existence, those below you will not believe in aught
else either. A faithless many will overpower the
faithless few, and the result will be the wreck of both.
If you obstruct the growing health, education, and
happiness of the community, because you have to pay
a larger share of the cost than you expected ; if you
ally your name as a Churchman (say) to unsanitary
schools, or sweated teachers, or long hours of labour ;
then the children of the workers will grow up with
less belief in your presentation of your Master, or
perhaps in your Master Himself. A belief in a prac-
tical philosophy of mammon, closed by a struggle for
spoils, will issue in a policy of extreme secular

212 A LENT IN LONDON.

socialism, with its autocracy in education, its liber-
tinism in the family, its denial of the Divine. That
is the alternative to Christ.

Christian socialism, then, that looks to Christ the
Reconciler, is just a faith in the growing reconcilia-
tion of the needs of society. It is not revolutionary,
but progressive ; it means the ruin of none, but the
unity of all ; it looks for compromise ; it calls for
sacrifice ; it emphasizes freedom of conscience, but a
necessary community of interests ; it advocates all
forms of co-operation ; it sets no final limits to just
social reconstruction ; it strives to effect most through
the awakened spirit of conscious brotherhood.

On individual wealth, on mere rank per se> on mere
standards of society, on sectional politics — dare I
add, on ecclesiastical supremacy ? — it sets no store.
Christian character, with equal opportunities for all,
is its ultimate aim. And this faith, this aim, this
ideal, is ours because we humbly believe it to be the
outcome of what Christ said and did. Christ alone
is the social Reconciler. This, then, as we seem to
see it, is His abiding social work. Because much in
the times is evil, through His Church, if she be faith-
ful, Christ " buys up " the social " opportunity."

"If she be faithful!" Yet how hard to decide
the limits and claims of faith! Indeed, in social
matters, it is one of our chief difficulties to bring
to common agreement those who earnestly seek to
be faithful to Christ's teaching, but who yet differ
as to whither His guidance leads.

But, surely, if Christ be the social Reconciler, it
is above all amongst His own disciples that unity
in social reconciliation will find its natural home.
We shall, at least, as Christians be one in principles.
Justice, mercy, love, sacrifice, will to us at least
never appeal in vain. Even where we differ in
programmes, our criticism of one another will be

CHRIST THE SOCIAL RECONCILER. 213

generous : we shall be sparing of charges of in-
consistency, seeing that, in dealing with a growing
and complex organism, our schemes and plans
must necessarily seem often inconsistent, if they too
are to change with our growth. On the common
ground of Christian service and Christian principle,
we shall strive, each according to our conscience,
to judge every programme proposed.

And, indeed, it would appear that, just now, when
England and her Church seem really to have awakened
to a sense of the problems that beset us, it were the
pressing need of the moment to reconcile to common
discussion and effort the cautious and the eager, the
timid and the overbold.

In the service of Christ was found room for very
various types of character, even in the limited circle
of His disciples : in the solution of our social ques-
tions, room must still be found for all. No party
politics, no religious newspaper, no opposed type
of Churchmanship, should keep us asunder. O un-
common ideal for a civilized community is the
supremacy of Christian character : to achieve this
is a task not impossible to the Christian Church,
if her members be one ; not impossible, else were
her very birth illusive. But to be one, and so to
achieve this ideal for civilization, we need, above
all things, to be reconciled in Christ, our common
Master, to the faithfulness of one another's hopes
and purposes, and to be willing to discuss, where
now we are often only willing to dispute. Thus
only can Christian principle leaven the future ; thus
only can we deliver ourselves from fruitlessness, and
the world from loss.

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT.

BY THE

REV. A. L. LILLEY, M.A.

" He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is
broken down, and without walls." — PROV. xxv. 28.

THAT is to say, the man who is not master of him-
self is in a fair way to become the slave of others.
Not to be master of one's self is to be defenceless,
and open to all attacks. The man who does not
know his own mind has no criterion of value by
which he may appraise the convictions of others.
And so he is the prey of every mind with more grip
and tenacity of conviction than his own. He is the
man carried about by every wind of doctrine. Or the
man who is wanting in firmness of will, in stability
of purpose, has no criterion by which to estimate the
importance of his own experiences, of the events in
the world outside him which affect his life. He is
always attaching a quite undue importance to the
shocks and assaults of fortune. He is the man of
moods. Fortune seems to assail him more bitterly
than others, not because fortune is really fiercer in
its assaults upon him, but because he is weaker than
others to resist them. Or, again, the man who is
without the spirit of order, who has no instinctive
plan of life arranged on lines of clear design, is with-
out a criterion of value among the claims made upon
his thought, or his feeling, or his action. He does

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT. 215

not know where to yield and where to insist. He
is obstinate where he ought to make allowances.
He is facile and yielding where he ought to be firm.
We say of him that he has no judgment. In each
case alike is it true that the man who is not master
of himself is on the way to be a slave to others.
The man who does not know his own mind will most
certainly be the slave of those who do. The man of
moods is the miserable slave of his own impressions.
The man who lacks judgment is the baffled slave of
events rather than their master. " He that hath no
rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken
down, and without walls."

That is the vision of failure and defeat and despair
in the individual life. And the vision of success and
mastery in the individual life is the contrast to all
this. Success is to the man who knows his own
mind, who has a firm will and a steady purpose,
whose judgment is sane, who has rule over his spirit.
Self-government is of the very essence of success —
of all success, and especially of the highest spiritual
success. To be able to evoke order out of the world's
disorder, you must first have established some kind of
order amid the complex tangle of motive and desire
which you feel within. But when you have become ever
so slightly master of yourself, when you have even
begun to rule your spirit, you have a kind of magical
effect upon the world without you. It is not so
much that you laboriously seek to do the things you
desire, as that the things you desire get themselves
done because you are there, with your clear insight,
and your keen judgment, and your absolute certainty
of what you want. Even on the highest plane of
human activity, success depends not so much on
great gifts of intellect, or on great gifts of heart, or
on great powers of mere endurance, as on a singleness
of aim, a directness of attack, a unity of purpose

2i6 A LENT IN LONDON.

among even moderate gifts of intellect and of heart
and of work. It is the youth just emerging into
manhood who thinks that the whole world is open
to the man of mere intellect, and who despises every
practical suggestion which does not answer to the
most rigid intellectual tests. It is the young man
in the first glow of enthusiastic ardour for a noble
cause who thinks that his mere enthusiasm must
carry all before it ; that there is a limitless power in
deep and sincere emotion. But the man of riper
wisdom very soon discovers that the real secret of
strength is a strange gift of self-knowledge and self-
mastery which defies analysis ; that the world is in
some degree taken by storm by the man who can
rule his own spirit. The highest spiritual faculty
is not intellect alone, is not heart alone. It is self-
government. It is the possession of one's self, the
transcendent gift of an easy and perfect mastery of
the powers of mind and heart one has. It is the
single eye which fills the whole body with light. It
is that true might which alone can create, and which
creates only the true right. Carlyle was never more
fatally misunderstood and never more worthy of
being understood than when he insisted with cha-
racteristic vehemence that might was right. If God
is in this world at all, in it effectively as the Spirit
that fills it with life and assures it of victory, then
assuredly that which has in it the greatest power of
success must have in it also the greatest force of
right. The man who is lord of himself is God's man
of might. He must be also the man who can best
work out God's plan of right.

And what is true for the individual life of each
of us is true also for the life of the state, and pre-
eminently for the life of the democratic state. Indeed,
I ought not to distinguish between them, for the
democratic state is only the state come of age, the

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT. 217

state just entered into the full heritage of manhood.
The history of political development so far has been
only the history of the liberation of all the elements
of the national life, the giving free play to all the
forces that make up the national character. The
ideal of politics has been an insistence upon and a
struggle for the rights of subject classes. But now
the state has finally emerged. All classes in the state
have become articulate. And so the old political
ideals have become obsolete. With the advent of the
democratic state, a new keynote must be struck in
politics. A new idea of government is already dimly
getting itself formulated. Government is no longer
what it has been — the rule of one part of the body
politic by another ; a rule met with endless protest,
and finally successful protest. For the future govern-
ment will be the attempt of the nation to rule itself,
to get to know its own mind, to brace its will and
steady its aims, and to acquire an instinct of sane
and ready judgment.

Our imaginations have hardly got hold as yet of
the fact that government in the true sense, self-
government, is only just beginning for the modern
state. In a kind of dim way we have come to
realize the dangers without having at all caught the
inspiration of this new political fact. And the dangers
are all too real. There is, first of all, the danger of
our altogether failing to appreciate the change, of our
clinging to antiquated notions of government, of our
looking upon it as somehow hostile and foreign to
us — a thing to be assailed by claims of rights and
privileges. That is to say, there is the danger of
our not seeing that the democratic state has arrived.
But even when we have learned something of the
extent of the change, there are dangers still. The
democratic state may not aim at ruling itself at all.
Self-government may be the very last ideal it will

218 A LENT IN LONDON.

set before itself. Almost certainly the state will
follow the development of the individual. Heady
youth will be for it too, most probably, the season of
the pride of intellect. There are signs of such a
tendency among us even now. There is too great a
tendency, perhaps, among the most ardent spirits of
the new movements in the sphere of politics to pin
their entire faith to cut-and-dried systems which
have been elaborated in the schools, which, as Walt
Whitman says, "may prove very well in lecture-
rooms, but may not prove at all in the open air/'

Such a danger, however, is not really serious, for
the very obvious reason that the ordinary democracy,
like the ordinary youth, is not severely intellectual.
But there is a real danger of the state in its new
self-consciousness being driven into perilous courses
by great moods of passion or emotion. Emotion
may be the cheapest thing in the world, and it is the
most satisfying to that higher vanity of the spirit
which we all find it so difficult to get rid of. There is
a great deal too much of flabby sentiment, already in
the process of degeneration into a hideous semi-reli-
gious cant, mingled with the movements which repre-
sent our nascent national self-consciousness. And it is
dangerous not only because it is so cheap, and makes
us so self-satisfied, but also because it is uncontrolled
and irrational, and may sweep us as readily into evil
courses as into good. And, above all, sentiment so
easily becomes unreal, so easily degenerates into
sentimentality — and especially in public life. Each
of us is for himself ashamed of pretending to a
sentiment he does not feel, or of pretending to it in
a degree greater than he does feel it. The more
genuine our personal emotions are, the less likely
are they to emerge in any self-conscious parade, the
more likely to be hidden away as the silent secret
springs of action. But in public life we easily lose

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT. 219

that nice quality of self-respect, that fine temper of
emotional sincerity. It is not nearly so difficult for
us to persuade ourselves that we share in a sentiment
which is in the air. Epidemics of spurious emotion
and crazy sentimentalism are all too possible in the
democratic state. And they are only destructive.
They are the fevers of the body politic, infectious
and deadly, leaving it limp and feeble and ex-
hausted. The state-life, indeed, needs sentiment.
It wants to be permeated through and through with
a sentiment which is sincere and noble and per-
manent. In order that any life — the life of nation
or of individual — may grow to self-mastery, it must
have an ideal which can satisfy the heart and focus
and inspire the highest energies. But such an ideal
cannot be forced. It cannot be built up by mere
verbal insistence, by the noisy rant of even well-inten-
tioned reformers. The Fabian method is the only
sure and certain one in building up a great national
ideal. . Patience sometimes seems, to hearts on fire
for the reform of some crying injustice, an act of
cowardice. But the patience which never gives way,
which works and strives, which ever hopes, and
knows no touch of despair, is the very condition of
possessing one's soul. Enthusiasm, patience, faith, —
these will gradually build up a true national ideal.
But — let me say it once more — such an ideal can
never be forced.

And it is on the possession of such an ideal that
the possibility of self-government depends — that
self-government which is the true function of the
democratic state, for which it has come into being
and which it must live to effectuate. That is, in my
mind, the real inspiration of the new political move-
ments. They raise the state at once to the higher
spiritual plane. They lay upon it the great business
of ruling over its own spirit. They suggest new

220 A LENT IN LONDON.

vistas of government, in which the ideal will be no
longer the rule of one part of the state, of one class
by another, but the attempt of the state to discover
its collective consciousness, to know its own mind.
What seem so clearly to us the dangers in the way
are quite real dangers. But they are the dangers
incident to youth. They are the dangers which must
be passed through and overcome before the full
responsibility of manhood can be attained. In spite
of all the crudities, the insincerities, the youthful
vanities and foibles of the new democratic move-
ment, the modern state is building up for itself an
ideal, is marching steadily towards the self-mastery
and self-possession in the power of which it will be
able to work out its ideal. Nay, these crudities and
foibles are themselves but the evidence that under-
neath the healthy life is working itself out and trying
to discover a method of freely and adequately
expressing itself. What that method of expression
may be, what will be the new forms of government
in the democratic state, I do not know, and I hardly
care to know. They may be modifications of the
present forms ; they may be quite new and changed
forms. At any rate, they will be the forms through
which the new state-life can best express itself.
They will be the forms of the self-government of a
free people. For us the important question is not
how the forms of government are changing, but
how the consciousness which creates these forms is
changing. Are we alive to the fact that democracy
is nothing in itself if it does not lead us on to this
great and difficult but inspiring work of self-govern-
ment, just as the ardours of youth are nothing if they
do not lead us on to the fruitful powers and activities
of manhood? Are we alive to the fact that the
state-life, the life of the whole nation, is for the first
time in history emerging upon the plane of the

DEMOCRACY AND GOVERNMENT. 221

highest spiritual endeavour, where the watchwords
will be not rights and self-assertion and sectional
conflict, but duties and self-mastery, and the recon-
ciliation and harmony of all sectional interests ? If
we are, we are reading the signs of the times aright.

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF
BEAUTY.1

BY THE

REV. W. C. GORDON LANG, M.A.,

Fellow and Dean of Divinity of Magdalen College, and Vicar of St.

Mary's, Oxford.

" Give unto the Lord the glory due unto His name : bring an
offering, and come before Him : worship the Lord in the beauty of
holiness." — I CHRON. xvi. 29.

THE subject of which we have to think this after-
noon seems at first sight remote from the subjects of
close practical interest which have hitherto engaged
your attention. But in reality there is no subject
on which it is of greater importance that those
interested in the well-being of society should have
some clear principle, and none in which it is more
difficult to find such a principle, and to apply it.
It comes before us in a hundred complicated,
practical shapes. Ought picture-galleries to be open
on Sundays ? Is all good music in itself religious ?
Is this picture one which a Christian ought to admire,
irrespective of its subject, merely for the sake of its
form ? Does the cleverness or the power of this
drama cover its unsavoury morality ? And so forth.
These are questions which come before us daily.
Modern life is so varied, so rapid, and so intense,
that our senses are quickened ; and in response to
this quickening of the senses there is a constant

1 Taken from shorthand notes.

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF BEAUTY. 223

supply of new, and even surprising sensations, which
fascinate and delight before we can summon any first
principle for their criticism or control. The one
thing needful, then, is to pause in the midst of this
pressure, and endeavour to fix upon our minds some
one guiding principle which shall regulate the Chris-
tian's sense of beauty. At present it is impossible
to do more than suggest such a general principle ;
you must apply it to circumstances as they arise.
The principle, then, which guides the Christian in the
control of his sense of beauty is simply the Incarna-
tion itself, the Word made flesh. This involves that
the body with all its senses, which in different degrees
crave the beautiful for their satisfaction, can be so
consecrated as to be worthy of the indwelling of God ;
and that the senses at once can and ought to be as
really as the spirit a way to God. If we follow this
guiding principle, the quest of the beautiful through
the senses becomes not merely a possible object of
Christian endeavour, but one without which it is
impossible to realize the fulness of that Godward life
which was manifested in Christ. For God is the
ultimate Source and Satisfaction of our capacity to
seek and to know the Beautiful. When we see the rich
colours of a sunset, or when we are thrilled by the
sound of music, we are conscious at once of a sense
of exquisite delight, and also of a strange yearning
for something only hinted, not disclosed. It is difficult
to know whether the sense of delight or the sense
of yearning is the stronger. And the reason of this
is, that beauty as we feel it is only partial ; that it
is at best but " the pledge " of some " beauty in its
plenitude." It is something more than the mere
passing pleasurable excitement of certain nerves ; it
is the momentary insight into a vaster beauty of
which that which we feel is but a partial revelation.
Now, this perfect beauty can be none other than God

224 A LENT IN LONDON.

Himself. " We must believe," as Mr. Balfour has said,
"that somewhere and for some Being there shines
the unchanging splendour of beauty, of which in
nature and in art we see, each of us from our own
standpoint, only passing gleams and stray reflections."
If, then, this perfect beauty be God Himself; and if,
as is manifest, there cannot be two absolutely perfect
beings in the universe, then perfect beauty and perfect
goodness are ultimately one. God Himself, then, is
the End of the quest of the beautiful ; and in God
there is complete identity between the beautiful and
the good.

Thus, there cannot be any final divorce between
beauty and goodness. If, then, we find that the
ultimate tendency of any form of art is to under-
mine in the artist, or in the person who delights in
the product of his art, what we know to be the best
in human nature — goodness, in short — then we may
be sure that it does not represent the highest order
of beauty. Pressed to its issue, it would involve the
divorce between the beautiful and the good, which
in the truth of things is impossible. But this control
of the sense of beauty, in harmony with the law of
goodness, cannot be achieved by repeated questions
of the conscience in each particular case. It must be
by the general direction or set of the central principle
within us which regulates the senses — that is, the
personal will. The security for the sense of beauty
is, then, a will which is in obedience to the law of
goodness or to God. Mr. Bridges has finely said —

"All earthly beauty hath one cause or proof
To lead the pilgrim soul to heaven above. . . .
Joy's ladder it is, reaching from home to home ;
The best of all the work that all was good,
Whereof 'twas writ the angels aye upclomb,
Down sped, and at the top the Lord God stood."

To maintain this upward reference of beauty to
God Who is its ultimate perfection, that is the work

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF BEAUTY. 225

of the will of man. As such, it is a work not merely
consistent with religion, but a real part of religion
itself; it is involved in the dedication of the whole
man to God.

Religion has in the past given witness to this truth.
In the Old Testament the beauty that appealed to
the senses was again and again used as the symbol
of the majesty and holiness of God. The tabernacle
was clothed with the richest colour, and adorned
with the choicest embroidery. The prophets beheld
God seated on a sapphire throne. The temple in
Jerusalem was to be exceeding magnifical, as a
worthy symbol of the glory of God. So in the
New Testament. Our Lord Himself was not only in
His Being the perfect union of the Divine and the
human, but expressed repeatedly in His parables and
in His illustrations the truth that the things seen are
symbols of the things unseen. Nature to Him as it
appeals to the senses was the sacrament of unseen
realities. It is most remarkable that when St. John
beholds in a vision the Man Who had been his
familiar Friend, He is clothed in all the beauty that
could entrance the senses — His head white as snow,
His eyes as a flame of fire, His feet like fine brass,
His voice as the sound of many waters, His counte-
nance as the sun shining in its strength. In that
same vision the beauty and the glory of God and
of His Church are described to us as mirrored and
revealed in the beauties of the gold, the pearls, the
jewels, of the heavenly city. It was a significant
and a true instinct, which led the early Christians,
when once they dared to represent the human form
of our Lord, to represent it as one in which the
highest goodness and most perfect human beauty
were joined. The great thinkers of the Alexan-
drine school maintained, as one of their first principles,
the intrinsic goodness of beauty and the beauty of

Q

226 A LENT IN LONDON.

goodness. Even in the ascetic ages of the Church, the
monks could not refrain from representing their sense
of God in the most beautiful churches, the richest
colours, and the most perfect development of musical
sound.

And yet, though religion has given this witness,
it cannot be denied that, on the whole, she has been
timorous of the full use of the sense of beauty. And
this is natural. Beauty, unlike goodness, appeals to
us through the medium of the senses, and the senses
are, on one side of them, closely allied to the lower
physical nature of man. Thus, without the strongest
effort of the will, it is difficult to prevent the sense
of the beautiful from ministering to the lower lusts.
Some of you will remember the great fable of Plato,
wherein he describes the soul of man as a chariot
drawn by two steeds. One of them is white, upright,
cleanly made — the follower of true glory, guided by
Reason, who stands as the charioteer. The other is
crooked and coarse, " with grey and bloodshot eyes."
And when the charioteer beholds some vision of
beauty, the strong coarse steed plunges forward in
order to satisfy the lower lusts. The other struggles
to keep true to the guiding charioteer ; and so it is
not without wrenching and struggling and forcing
that the lower nature is curbed, and the soul is able
" to follow the beautiful in modesty and fear." Pagan
societies looked at the beautiful with the bloodshot
eyes of the steed of lust. This downward drag of
the sense of beauty was almost inevitable, because
there was no force, no conviction which could main-
tain the upward reference of the will to the perfect
beauty Who was also perfect goodness. And thus
the pagan sense of beauty became in truth " procuress
to the lords of hell," and minister to bodily lust.
The early Christians were familiar with this degrada-
tion of the sense of beauty, and it was not unnatural

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF BEAUTY. 227

that it should fill them with suspicion and fear.
Material beauty was to them a thing surrounded with
the memorials of the shame and the ruin that it had
wrought, and they feared to sully their purity by
approaching it, even in the name of the Word made
flesh. And thus there was need of a redemption
of the sense of beauty, of a revelation given to man
which was adequate to nerve the will in an upward
raising of the senses to God. The will of man must
first be redeemed from that set towards evil which
had dragged down beauty in its course, and then it
must be sustained by a power which could keep the
beauty in touch with the goodness of God.

It was this gift of a power which at once redeemed
and sustained the will of man towards God which
was given to the world in our Lord Jesus Christ.
But — and this is where Christian thought has often
failed to make the necessary advance — when re-
demption has been accomplished, then the appropria-
tion of beauty in the Name of Christ should begin.
It is when the will has been redeemed, and is, in the
strength of Christ, set towards God, that it can trust
itself to the fullest enjoyment and cultivation of the
sense of beauty. This is the truth of the saying
that " to the pure all things are pure." It is involved
in the beatitude, " Blessed are the meek : for they
shall inherit the earth." "The meek" — the surrendered
will — it is this which has the right to embrace in its
fullest variety and richness that world of beauty
which responds to the senses which God has given.
Thus there is perhaps no Christian work in our time
which is more necessary than to follow Christ in the
redemption of the sense of beauty. We have need
of a new knight-errantry, which shall rescue the sense
of the beautiful from the false tyrants of lust and sin,
who have so often enthralled her, and shall bring her
out into the freedom and the purity of Christ. For

228 A LENT IN LONDON.

the individual it is a real failure to realize the fulness
of life if he does not, so far as he can, and as God
has gifted him, train, perfect, and discipline the life
of the senses. Increase in the power of appreciating
beauty ought to be a real mark of advance in the
Christian life. And socially, the Christian must seek
everywhere and at all times to redeem, not to stifle,
or to thwart, or to suspect, the craving for the beau-
tiful which is so widespread in our time. It reveals
itself — how can it be otherwise? — often in the poorest
and, indeed, most vulgar forms ; but everywhere it is
a witness of a human need which God wills to meet.
If, for example, there be a delight to the hard-pressed
business man in the spectacle of that union of the
rhythm of music and the rhythm of motion which is
the meaning of the dance, this, poor as it may seem
to many, is a real sign of the craving for the beautiful.
And, just as the Christian will not suspect, but will
welcome, and seek to perfect all forms of goodness,
however imperfect they may be — will make the most
of them rather than the least of them — so he ought
to welcome, not to suspect, these elementary forms of
a craving for the beautiful. He ought to make the
most of them, to perfect them, to minister to them
in a manner that shall lead them on to something
higher and nobler and liker God. You will under-
stand how impossible it is to apply this thought within
the limits of a short sermon to the details of actual
life ; but to meditate upon it will keep one true at
once to the claims of purity, and to the claims of
beauty in those complicated questions which agitate
our life to-day.

One word in conclusion. It is an act of great
boldness for any man to enter thus fearlessly into
the quest of the beautiful through the senses. The
danger of finding in these senses only the occasion of
sin is great and constant. It has caused the wreckage

THE CHRISTIAN SENSE OF BEAUTY. 229

not only of great lives, but of great societies. It can
be averted only by the most resolute discipline of
the will, only by its most complete surrender to the
cause of purity and goodness as it is revealed to us
in our Lord and Saviour. It demands that a man in
his own nature should be redeemed and sustained by
the strength of that perfect will of God. He who
would enter for himself and for his society the quest
of the beautiful has need more, perhaps, than any
other, to bring himself to the foot of the Cross of
Christ, and there to ask that he may be inspired by
Christ's own perfect sacrifice of self to God.

DOGMA— A SOCIAL FORCE.

BY THE

REV. CANON HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, M.A.

' ' And even things without life giving sound, whether pipe or harpr
except they give a distinction in the sounds, how shall it be known
what is piped or harped ? ... So likewise ye, except ye utter by the
tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be known what is
spoken ? for ye shall speak into the air. . . . Therefore if I know not
the meaning of the voice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a barbarian,
and he that speaketh shall be a barbarian unto me." — I COR. xiv. 7,
9, ii.

" ORTHODOXY is my doxy " — so the clever phrase
runs ; yet that is exactly what it cannot be. If its
note lay in its being mine, it could never put out the
claim to be orthodox. By making that claim, it
asserts that it is not mine, but yours. The word
would be absolutely devoid of all meaning if right
thinking were merely an individual's own affair ; just
as truth would have ceased to exist if it were " what
each man troweth." So far as it is this, it is nothing ;
it has not begun to be. To use the name of truth
is to assert that we can overstep the limits of each
man's private trowings, and can arrive at some con-
clusion which is independent of who thinks it, and
which is common to all who think. If such a
result is unattainable, then we have despaired of
truth.

Nothing, then, can be more ridiculous than to
claim orthodoxy for a private opinion. If religion
is a concern of the hidden spirit, of course there is

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. 231

no such thing as orthodoxy ; each worships alone
with his God ; each answers to himself alone, before
God, for what he troweth. And there may well be
a noble mysticism which recoils from all outward
expression of its spiritual communion, too sadly con-
scious of its pitiful inadequacy to convey by any
language to others, or even to itself, the mystery
that is, nevertheless, so solemn and so sweet. Such
a nobility of spiritual sentiment speaks to us from
the heart of Arthur Clough, who, shrinking from the
ruthless and clamorous logic with which W. G. Ward
hammered at the doors of his delicate soul, fled apart
to murmur, in timorous solitude, that unhymned hymn,
which can only allow itself to pray in apologies for
praying, and cannot presume to name what it prays
to, without withdrawing the very name without which
it cannot utter its prayer.

" O Thou, that in our bosoms' shrine
Dost dwell, unknown, because divine !

0 Thou, in that mysterious shrine
Enthroned, as I must say, divine !

1 will not frame one thought of what
Thou mayest either be or not ;

I will not prate of ' thus ' and ' so,'
And be profane with * yes ' or * no : J
Enough that in our soul and heart
Thou, whatsoe'er Thou mayest be, art !
Do only Thou, in that dim shrine,
Unknown or known, remain, divine.
There, or if not, at least in eyes
That scan the fact that round them lies,
The hand to sway, the judgment guide,
To sight and sense Thyself divide :
Be Thou but there, in soul and heart,
I will not ask to feel Thou art."

So it has all been said, in its most perfect and
most manly form.

But, then, the very emotion which stirs in us at
the reading of such a poem, comes from the fact that
the soul which argues on behalf of this wordless

232 A LENT IN LONDON.

faith, recognizes and confesses its own pathetic im-
potence. Such a religion (as it knows well) is but
the uttermost refuge of a wistful soul that cannot
quite abandon itself to despair of God. It is aware
of all that it has lost ; it can but humbly apologize
for what remains ; it offers no gladness, for it cannot
"go up with the multitude that keep holiday;" it
creeps into some unnoticed corner, under the grey
shadows, and tenderly it pleads against surrendering
its faint frail hope. Pitifully it is conscious of the
misery of

" Fingering idly some old Gordian knot,
Unskilled to sunder, and too weak to cleave,
And with much toil attain to half-believe."

Yet, seriously, tragically, it will still go apart, in
silence, and will bend itself in a prayer that must,
perforce, be speechless, to One

" Who, not unowned, yet shall unnamed forgive ; "

or be content, in prayerlessness, to work, so that the
work itself may become the prayer that it cannot
pray ; dumbly trusting that perchance rare moments
may fall upon its clouded life —

6 ' When, while the work it plies,
Unsummoned powers the blinding film shall part,
And, scarce by happy tears made dim, the eyes
In recognition start."

So tender, so touching, the appeal ! And the
pity of it lies just in this — that such a religion
must, perforce, abide secreted and unshared. "It
abideth alone." Only by speech can it shatter the
dismal solitude. It must discover some word which
can embody for it its belief, if it is ever to convey it
to another. A wordless faith is a lonely faith.

But, my brethren, surely religion has almost for-
sworn itself if it has abandoned its claim to lift men

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. 233

out of loneliness. Religion is, in its vital essence, the
spirit of unity, of combination, of brotherhood. Its
primal office is to overleap the barriers that shut
men's souls off from one another. In religion, if any-
where, men must find their common identity. Its
entire aspiration is set that way ; and that is why
the whole religious movement of mankind, being an
effort, an impulse, after spiritual unity, attains its true
consummation in the revelation of "one Lord, one
Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of all." A
religion that cannot bring together even so much as
two souls into a common faith, is but the vacant
ghost of a religion, haunting its own melancholy grave.
It has ceased to retain the office and character that
stamp a religion. Yet a religion that cannot name
its God is powerless to arrive at a brotherhood even of
two. The sole bridge by which we can pass across
the gulf that sunders spirit from spirit, is speech. To
co-operate, to associate, we must speak. Destroy
faith's power of speech, and you reduce it to the
impotence of Babel. Our tower that should rise to
heaven tumbles into ruins the moment combination
ceases ; and combination ceases as soon as language
fails us.

Here, then, is the alternative set before us. If
we deny the spiritual belief its power to express
itself; if we repudiate the formality of words in
the secret communings of the soul ; if we shrink
from all outward expressions of the mystery that we
would nurse to ourselves alone ; if we prefer some
dumb, inarticulate, powerless cry of the soul, and
shrink from all attempts to " name the ineffable
Name ; " —then, while cherishing our own freedom
from the dust and heat of theological dispute, while
hugging our own personal spiritual purity on which
no spot or stain has fallen from these wild wars that
rage around holy things, we have all the time

234 A LENT IN LONDON.

dropped out the heart of the matter ; we have ex-
punged from religion its innermost significance ; we
have surrendered its main hope ; for we have stripped
it of the only instrument by which it can fulfil its
supreme office of knitting men together into a
brotherhood, into a body. We have won our peace
at the cost of finding it a solitude.

No ! every religion that is true to its primal instincts
must offer to combine men together ; and, to combine
men together, it must take all the risks of formulating
a speech which its followers understand : a speech
by which it can convey to itself, and to others, that
which it believes.

And Christianity is, above all religions, bound to
have gained this power of speech, because not only
does it profess (i) that combination is of the essence
of its creed, so that the faith only exists in a corpo-
rate form as a society, a kingdom, a family, and to
believe at all involves belief in a Catholic Church ;
but (2), also, by offering to make this association
world-wide and universal, it drops out all those
adventitious aids to combination which religions
could rely upon as long as they were national or
local. The tie of blood would serve to bind men
into a religion so long as the religion and the race
were coterminous. But Christianity has thrown over
these incidental ties, and it must rely, therefore, for
its corporate coherence on the purely spiritual acts
which constitute the common speech of its united
peoples.

Now, I would use speech, first, in its widest sense,
as meaning all outward acts, which embody and con-
vey abroad an inward intention. Such sacramental
speech, in the deepest and highest sense, is to be
found in the fixed actions of a common worship.
Acts of public worship, done all together, by mutual
agreement, conveying united assent, — these form the

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. 235

primary, the most permanent, and, in some ways,
the richest language in which a communion in belief
becomes articulate, and finds determined and intelli-
gible expression. And so Christianity took for its
elemental speech the liturgy of the common Feast,
of the one Altar — the Eucharist. Fixed acts, fixed
formulas, — these held together, by public rehearsal, by
public declaration, in the public assembly, the entire
body corporate of believers. In these unchanging and
catholic forms every one understood the same thing;
every one realized, through these outward expres-
sions, his identity with his brethren, in the one Body
and the one Blood. Through these sacraments the
invisible Church attained to visible unity. Souls
mingled with souls, spirits touched spirits, as they,
under set ritual, eat of one loaf, as they drank at
one cup. Here was the high language that released
the spirit from its loneliness. It had found its proper
speech ; it was made one with its fellows.

But mere outward ritual could not be enough.
This speech of liturgical actions was bound to in-
clude the fixed use of selected and intelligible and
definite words. For a Christian's ritual could not
lie at the level of some miserable pagan magic,
which asked no one to understand it, if only it were
formally correct. A Christian must offer reasonable,
intelligent service, with his mind and with his spirit.
He must know what he means by his acts ; he must
follow his public worship with a reasoning assent,
with a thoroughly qualified understanding. This is
the unique note of Judaism and of Christianity —
that they alone, of all religions in the world, demand
of every worshipper that he should think about
what he is doing, and should bring his mind into
full play in his worship. To fail in this was to
fail in loyalty to Him Who is "the Word "—the
reasonable Will of God. From the very start,

236 A LENT IN LONDON.

therefore, every catechumen must have passed dili-
gently through the intellectual training of the cate-
chetical schools before he could take his place, as
baptized and confirmed, in the corporate worship of
the society. In these schools he learned to apprehend
the authoritative, dogmatic words gradually sifted
out, deliberately chosen, through which the society
secured and maintained its coherence. He learned
to name the God in Whom he had believed by the
Name in which the associated and united worship of
the entire Church made its appeal before the Throne.
The Name of the Lord ! That of old was the force
that made Israel a people. And the Name given to
our Lord, which was above every name, was the force
which held together the Church, and constituted all
believers to be one people. The Name named ; the
Name understood, disclosed, laid open, comprehended,
pronounced, declared in intelligible words ; — this is
that which knits all members to the one Head ; this
is that through which, by joints and bands, the entire
body, articulated and combined, " increaseth with the
increase of God."

And then, as debates and disputes raged keenly
round the Name in which the worship ascended, the
Church, if she were to cohere at all, if she were to
abide as an enduring society, found herself obliged,
perforce, not only to select her liturgical language yet
more carefully, but also to state yet more precisely
what she intended by it. So grew her dogma.

But note what dogma means. Not speculation, not
metaphysic, not theological explanation. Dogma does
not explain or argue ; it only asserts — asserts facts
verified through the collective experience. It asserts
what already is believed. It asserts what it already
intends by its familiar worship. Dogma is the de-
claration of what faith means by its faith. It has no
authority over unbelievers, and claims none. It is

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. 237

the simple assertion by Christian believers of what
it is that they in common do, as a fact, hold and
believe.

Dogma, then, is the act of the Body — of the believ-
ing, worshipping Church. For it is the answer to the
question, What is it that the Christian Body means
by worshipping Jesus Christ in its public assemblies,
in its liturgical acts ? As a Body it does so worship ;
does it in one way, everywhere, always, in corporate
eucharistic actions, which must have a valid and uni-
versal significance to those who so unite in them.
What is that significance ? Does it involve this ?
Does it imply that? How can Jesus Christ be wor-
shipped ? What is His Name that it should be a
means of approach to the Father ? So the immense
intellectual discussion of the fourth and fifth centuries
delivered its challenges. And the dogmatic creeds are
the answers given by the Church. In them she
announces the mind with which she habitually wor-
ships. She fends off doubtful terms and hazy ex-
pressions, which would wreck her power to pray to
God through Jesus Christ in her historical and unde-
viating forms, as she had always done.

That is her dogma. And, note, to deny her this
right and capacity to dogmatize, can only mean the
denial of the Church's power to say what it is that
she believes, and what she understands by her wor-
ship. It is to say that her faith must be inarticulate,
must be unthinkable, unintelligent, dumb, below the
level of natural things. It is to say that reason can
have no part or lot in the Christian's worship, and
that no one can convey to another brother in the faith
anything of what he understands by believing.

Of course, this may be true ; only if it is — if faith
must remain a buried secret, a blind emotion, hushed
up in the hidden recesses of the individual spirit,
unable to emerge into public view in any rational

238 A LENT IN LONDON.

language — then the existence of Christianity as an
organic society, as a coherent body, as a social force
that can combine into any consistent movement so as
to tell on mankind at large, is at an end. This is the
simple issue. In dogma, Christianity declares what
it itself means by its belief. If it cannot say even to
itself what it means, then it has no capacity for com-
bination ; its members cannot associate in united
action ; its corporate construction falls away into
ruins.

My brethren, that is the issue, and it is serious. For
all men are turning their eyes to-day anxiously to
see whether, in the midst of our social State, strained
as it is by industrial perplexities, wearied, overbur-
dened, beclouded, there be, present here on earth,
a holy society in which God has set up His throne,
whose members, trained and fashioned in a heavenly
city, can bring to bear upon social difficulties the
mind of those who know what corporate citizenship
and the responsibilities of a brotherhood should
mean. You and I believe that such a city of God
exists, and that its citizenship is the one and only
school in which we can learn how best to serve our
earthly city, and to love our fellow-men.

But such a society, if it is to be what we imagine,
cannot base itself, as so many fondly imagine, on the
elimination of dogma. Such a society cannot cohere
if it do not possess a constructive, unifying mind
which can animate the body with a fixed purpose.
Such a society cannot cohere if its members cannot
communicate with one another ; cannot share together
a common faith, which is intelligible, and can be con-
veyed in a common speech. They must, if they are
ever to have any social force as an integral mass — they
must be drawn together and compacted by the know-
ledge of Him in Whom they have believed. There
must be a Christian language that passes between

DOGMA — A SOCIAL FORCE. 239

Christians, by which they can realize their knowledge,
and can name together the everlasting Name. Such
knowledge adds nothing to the faith ; it only expresses
what is already believed. But it does add power to
the faith, just because it enables it to know itself,
and to combine in one all who share it.

Faith in Jesus Christ may exist without the power
to speak, but it must then exist to itself alone, and
abandon all hope of winning the swing, and move-
ment, and honour, and force of associated action. But
if (as we hold for certain) Jesus Christ intended to
act on the world through a kingdom — through the
weight of a gathered Church — then He intended the
Church to speak, to understand its own meaning. And
that understanding, that authoritative speech, is
dogma.

There may be those here to whom such speech is
honestly denied. Let them bear this burden as
bravely as Zacharias, dumb for a season, because he
could not wholly believe the vision. Only let them
believe that, if that dumbness broke, they would find
their capacity for service doubled ; they would step
up into their place in that ordered creation where all
voices are organic and distinct ; they would strike
hands with their brethren in the faith. They would
be glad as Zacharias on the day when his mouth was
opened, and his tongue loosed, and he spake, and
praised God.

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D.C.L., sometime Dean of Norwich.

THOUGHTS ON PERSONAL RELIGION. Small Svo. 6s. 6d.
Cheap Edition, 3^. 6d. \ Presentation. Edition, 2 vols. small Svo,
IQS. 6d.

THE PURSUIT OF HOLINESS : a Sequel to ' Thoughts on Personal
Religion.' Small Svo. $s. Cheap Edition. %s. 6d.

THE GOSPEL OF THE CHILDHOOD : a Practical and Devotional
Commentary on the Single Incident of our Blessed Lord's Childhood
(St. Luke ii. 41 to the end). Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

THE COLLECTS OF THE DAY : an Exposition, Critical and Devo-
tional, of the Collects appointed at the Communion. With Preliminary
Essays on their Structure, Sources, etc. 2 vols. Crown Svo. 8s. each.

THOUGHTS UPON THE LITURGICAL GOSPELS for the Sundays,
one for each day in the year. With an Introduction on their Origin,
History, the modifications made in them by the Reformers and by the
Revisers of the Prayer Book. 2 vols. Crown Svo. i6s.

MEDITATIONS UPON THE LITURGICAL GOSPELS for the
Minor Festivals of Christ, the two first Week-days of the Easter and
Whitsun Festivals, and the Red-letter Saints' Days. Crown Svo.
8s. 6d.

FAMILY PRAYERS, compiled from various sources (chiefly from Bishop
Hamilton's Manual), and arranged on the Liturgical Principle. Crown
Svo. 35. 6d. Cheap Edition. i6mo. is.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE.

Harrison.— Works by the Rev. ALEXANDER J. HARRISON, B.D.,
Lecturer of the Christian Evidence Society.

PROBLEMS OF CHRISTIANITY AND SCEPTICISM ; Lessons
from Twenty Years' Experience in the Field of Christian Evidence.
Crown Svo. js. 6d.

THE CHURCH IN RELATION TO SCEPTICS : a Conversational
Guide to Evidential Work. Crown Svo. js. 6d.

THE REPOSE OF FAITH, IN VIEW OF PRESENT DAY DIFFI-
CULTIES. Crown Svo. 75. 6d.

Holland.— Works by the Rev. HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, M.A.,
Canon and Precentor of St. Paul's.

GOD'S CITY AND THE COMING OF THE KINGDOM : Crown
Svo. js. 6d.

PLEAS AND CLAIMS FOR CHRIST. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d.
CREED AND CHARACTER : Sermons. Crown Svo. y. 6d.

ON BEHALF OF BELIEF. Sermons preached in St. Paul's Cathedral.
Crown Svo. y. 6d.

CHRIST OR ECCLESIASTES. Sermons preached in St. Paul's
Cathedral. Crown Svo. zs. 6d.

LOGIC AND LIFE, with other Sermons. Crown Svo. y. 6d.

INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS ; or, Thoughts on the
Communion of Saints and the Life of the World to come. Col-
lected chiefly from English Writers by L. P. With a Preface by the
Rev. HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND, M.A. Crown Svo. 75. 6d.

Jameson. — Works by Mrs. JAMESON.

SACRED AND LEGENDARY ART, containing Legends of the Angels
and Archangels, the Evangelists, the Apostles. With 19 Etchings and
187 Woodcuts. Two vols. Svo. Cloth, gilt top, 2os. net.

LEGENDS OF THE MONASTIC ORDERS, as represented in the
Fine Arts. With n Etchings and 88 Woodcuts. Svo. Cloth, gilt
top, ioj. net.

LEGENDS OF THE MADONNA, OR BLESSED VIRGIN MARY.
With 27 Etchings and 165 Woodcuts. Svo. Cloth, gilt top, los. net.

THE HISTORY OF OUR LORD, as exemplified in Works of Art.
Commenced by the late Mrs. JAMESON ; continued and completed by
LADY EASTLAKE. With 31 Etchings and 281 Woodcuts. Two Vols.
Svo. Cloth, gilt top, 2os. net.

8 A SELECTION OF WORKS

Jennings.— ECCLES I A ANGLICANA. A History of the
Church of Christ in England from the Earliest to the Present Times.
By the Rev. ARTHUR CHARLES JENNINGS, M.A. Crown Svo. ?s. 6d.

Jukes. — Works by ANDREW JUKES.

THE NEW MAN AND THE ETERNAL LIFE. Notes on the
Reiterated Amens of the Son of God. Crown Svo. 6s.

THE NAMES OF GOD IN HOLY SCRIPTURE : a Revelation of
His Nature and Relationships. Crown Svo. 45. 6d.

THE TYPES OF GENESIS. Crown Svo. 7s. 6d.

THE SECOND DEATH AND THE RESTITUTION OF ALL
THINGS. Crown Svo. $s. 6d.

THE MYSTERY OF THE KINGDOM. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

THE ORDER AND CONNEXION OF THE CHURCH'S TEACH-
ING, as set forth in the arrangement of the Epistles and Gospels
throughout the Year. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

Knox Little.— Works by W. J. KNOX LITTLE, M.A., Canon

Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross.
SACERDOTALISM, WHEN RIGHTLY UNDERSTOOD, THE
TEACHING OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. Crown Svo. 6s.

SKETCHES IN SUNSHINE AND STORM : a Collection of Mis-
cellaneous Essays and Notes of Travel. Crown Svo. js. 6d.

THE CHRISTIAN HOME. Crown Svo. 31. 6d.

THE HOPES AND DECISIONS OF THE PASSION OF OUR
MOST HOLY REDEEMER. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

CHARACTERISTICS AND MOTIVES OF THE CHRISTIAN
LIFE. Ten Sermons preached in Manchester Cathedral, in Lent and
Advent. Crown Svo. zs. 6d.

SERMONS PREACHED FOR THE MOST PART IN MANCHES-
TER. Crown Svo. $s. 6d.

THE MYSTERY OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY
REDEEMER. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

THE WITNESS OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY
REDEEMER. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d.

\continued.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE.

Knox Little.— Works by W. J. KNOX LITTLE, M.A., Canon Resi-
dentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross. — continued.

THE LIGHT OF LIFE. Sermons preached on Various Occasions.
Crow?i 8vo. %s. 6d.

SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE.
Sermons preached for the most part in America. Crown %vo. 35. 6d.

Lear.— Works by, and Edited by, H. L. SIDNEY LEAR.

FOR DAYS AND YEARS. A book containing a Text, Short Reading,

and Hymn for Every Day in the Church's Year. i6mo. 2s. 6d. Also

a Cheap Edition, yzmo. is.', or cloth gilt, is. 6d.
FIVE MINUTES. Daily Readings of Poetry. i6mo. $s. 6d. Also a

Cheap Edition, $2mo. u.; or cloth gilt, is. 6d.
WEARINESS. A Book for the Languid and Lonely. Large Type.

Small 8vo. 55.
THE LIGHT OF THE CONSCIENCE. i6mo. 2s. 6d. 327*10. is. ;

cloth limp, 6d.

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES.

MADAME LOUISE DE FRANCE,
Daughter of Louis XV., known
also as the Mother Terese de
St. Augustin.

A DOMINICAN ARTIST : a Sketch of
the Life of the Rev. Pere Besson,
of the Order of St. Dominic.

HENRI PERREYVE. By PERE
GRATRY.

ST. FRANCIS DE SALES, Bishop and
Prince of Geneva.

Nine Voh. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. each.

THE REVIVAL OF PRIESTLY LIFE
IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
IN FRANCE.

A CHRISTIAN PAINTER OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY.

BOSSUET AND HIS CONTEMPORA-
RIES.

FENELON, ARCHBISHOP OF CAM-

BRAI.
HENRI DOMINIQUE LACORDAIRE.

DEVOTIONAL WORKS. Edited by H. L. SIDNEY LEAR.

Uniform Editions. Nine Voh. i6mo. 2s. 6d. each.
FENELON'S SPIRITUAL LETTERS TO

MEN.
FENELON'S SPIRITUAL LETTERS TO

WOMEN.
A SELECTION FROM THE SPIRITUAL

LETTERS OF ST. FRANCIS DE

SALES.
THE SPIRIT OF ST. FRANCIS DE

SALES.

New and

THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL.
THE LIGHT OF THE CONSCIENCE.
SELF-RENUNCIATION. From the

French.

ST. FRANCIS DE SALES OF THE

LOVE OF GOD.
SELECTIONS FROM PASCAL'S

•THOUGHTS.'

io A SELECTION OF WORKS

Liddon.— Works by HENRY PARRY LIDDON, D.D., D.C.L.,LL.D.,
late Canon Residentiary and Chancellor of St. Paul's.

LIFE OF EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY, D.D. By HENRY PARRY
LIDDON, D.D., D.C.L., LL.D. Edited and prepared for publication
by the Rev. J. O. JOHNSTON, MA., Principal of the Theological
College, and Vicar of Cuddesdon, Oxford ; and the Rev. ROBERT
J. WILSON, D.D., Warden of Keble College. With Portraits and
Illustrations. Four Vols. Svo. Vols. I. and //., 36*. Vol. ///., i8j.

CLERICAL LIFE AND WORK : Sermons. Crown Svo. y.

ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES : Lectures on Buddhism— Lectures on the
Life of St. Paul— Papers on Dante. Crown Svo. $s.

EXPLANATORY ANALYSIS OF PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE

ROMANS. Svo. 14*.

SERMONS ON OLD TESTAMENT SUBJECTS. Crown Svo. $s.
SERMONS ON SOME WORDS OF CHRIST. Crown Svo. 55.
THE DIVINITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.

Being the Bampton Lectures for 1866. Crown Svo. $s.
ADVENT IN ST. PAUL'S. Sermons bearing chiefly on the Two

Comings of our Lord. Two Vols. Crown Svo. $s. 6d. each. Cheap

Edition in one. Volume. Crown Svo. 55.
CHRISTMASTIDE IN ST. PAUL'S. Sermons bearing chiefly on the

Birth of our Lord and the End of the Year. Crown Svo. $s.
PASSIONTIDE SERMONS. Crown Svo. &.

EASTER IN ST. PAUL'S. Sermons bearing chiefly on the Resurrec-
tion of our Lord. Two Vols. Crown Svo. y. 6d. each. Cheap

Edition in one Volume. Crown Svo. $s.

SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF

OXFORD. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 35. 6d. each. Cheap Edition in

one Volume. Crown Svo. 5-r.

THE MAGNIFICAT. Sermons in St. Paul's. Crown Svo. zs. 6d.
SOME ELEMENTS OF RELIGION. Lent Lectures. Small Svo.

2.5. 6d. ; or in paper cover, is. 6d.

The Crown 8v0 Edition (5$.) may still be had.
SELECTIONS FROM THE^ WRITINGS OF H. P. LIDDON, D.D.

Crown Svo. y. 6d.
MAXIMS AND GLEANINGS FROM THE WRITINGS OF H. P.

LIDDON, D.D. Selected and arranged by C. M. S. Crown i6mo. is.

DR. LIDDON'S TOUR IN EGYPT AND PALESTINE IN 1886.
Being Letters descriptive of the Tour, written by his Sister, Mrs. KING
Crown Svo. s.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. n

Luckock.— Works by HERBERT MORTIMER LUCKOCK, D.D.,

Dean of Lichfield.
THE HISTORY OF MARRIAGE, JEWISH AND CHRISTIAN, IN

RELATION TO DIVORCE AND CERTAIN FORBIDDEN

DEGREES. Crown 8vo. 6s.
AFTER DEATH. An Examination of the Testimony of Primitive

Times respecting the State of the Faithful Dead, and their Relationship

to the Living. Crown 8vo. 6s.
THE INTERMEDIATE STATE BETWEEN DEATH AND

JUDGMENT. Being a Sequel to After Death. Crown 8vo. 6s.
FOOTPRINTS OF THE SON OF MAN, as traced by St. Mark. Being

Eighty Portions for Private Study, Family Reading, and Instructions

in Church. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. i2s. Cheap Edition in one Vol.

Crown 8vo. $s.
THE DIVINE LITURGY. Being the Order for Holy Communion,

Historically, Doctrinally, and devotionally set forth, in Fifty Portions.

Crown 8vo. 6s.
STUDIES IN THE HISTORY OF THE BOOK OF COMMON

PRAYER. The Anglican Reform — The Puritan Innovations— The

Elizabethan Reaction — The Caroline Settlement. With Appendices.

Crown 8v0. 6s.
THE BISHOPS IN THE TOWER. A Record of Stirring Events

affecting the Church and Nonconformists from the Restoration to the

Revolution. Crown 8v0. 6s.

LYRA GERM AN 1C A. Hymns translated from the German by
CATHERINE WINKWORTH. Small 8vo. 5^.

MacColL— Works by the Rev. MALCOLM MAC€OLL, M.A., Canon

Residentary of Ripon.
CHRISTIANITY IN RELATION TO SCIENCE AND MORALS.

Crown 8vo. 6s.
LIFE HERE AND HEREAFTER : Sermons. Crown 8v0. 73. 6d.

Mason.— Works by A. J. MASON, D.D., Hon. Canon of Canter-
bury and Examining Chaplain to the Archbishop of
Canterbury.
THE FAITH OF THE GOSPEL. A Manual of Christian Doctrine.

Crown 8vo. y. 6d.

THE RELATION OF CONFIRMATION TO BAPTISM. As taught
in Holy Scripture and the Fathers. Crown 8v0. js. 6d.

12 A SELECTION OF WORKS

Mercier.— OUR MOTHER CHURCH : Being Simple Talk
on High Topics. By Mrs. JEROME MERCIER. S?nall 8vo. 3*. 6d.

Molesworth.— STORIES OF THE SAINTS FOR CHIL-
DREN : The Black Letter Saints. By Mrs. MOLESWORTH, Author
of ' The Palace in the Garden,' etc, etc. With Illustrations. Royal
i6mo. 5-y.

Mozley.— Works by J. B. MOZLEY, D.D., late Canon of Christ
Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford.

ESSAYS, HISTORICAL AND THEOLOGICAL. TwoVols. Zvo. 24*.

EIGHT LECTURES ON MIRACLES. Being the Bampton Lectures
for 1865. Crown 8vo. 3^. 6d.

RULING IDEAS IN EARLY AGES AND THEIR RELATION TO
OLD TESTAMENT FAITH. Lectures delivered to Graduates of
the University of Oxford. 8vo. IQJ. 6d.

SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF
OXFORD, and on Various Occasions. Crown 8vo. y. 6d.

SERMONS, PAROCHIAL AND OCCASIONAL. Crown Zvo. y. 6d.

A REVIEW OF THE BAPTISMAL CONTROVERSY. Crown 8vo.
y. 6d.

Newbolt.— Works by the Rev. W. C. E. NEWBOLT, M.A., Canon
and Chancellor of St. Paul's Cathedral, Select Preacher at
Oxford, and Examining Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Ely.

COUNSELS OF FAITH AND PRACTICE : being Sermons preached
on various occasions. New and Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo. $s.

SPECULUM SACERDOTUM ; or, the Divine Model of the Priestly
Life. Crown 8vo. js. 6d.

THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT. Being Ten Addresses bearing on
the Spiritual Life. Crown %vo. 2s. 6d.

THE MAN OF GOD. Being Six Addresses delivered during Lent at
the Primary Ordination of the Right Rev. the Lord Alwyne Compton,
D.D., Bishop of Ely. Small 8vo. is. 6d.

THE PRAYER BOOK : Its Voice and Teaching. Being Spiritual
Addresses bearing on the Boob of Common Prayer. Crown 8vo.

2S. 6d.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. 13

Newman. — Works by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, B.D., sometime
Vicar of St. Mary's, Oxford.

PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS. Eight Vols. Cabinet Edition.
Crown 8vo. 5J. each. Cheaper Edition, y. 6d. each.

SELECTION, ADAPTED TO THE SEASONS OF THE ECCLE-
SIASTICAL YEAR, from the ' Parochial and Plain Sermons,'
Cabinet Edition. Crown 8vo. 5^. Cheaper Edition. 31. 6d.

FIFTEEN SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD Cabinet Edition. Crown 8vo. 55. Cheaper Edition,
y. 6d.

SERMONS BEARING UPON SUBJECTS OF THE DAY. Cabinet
Edition. Crown 8vo. 55. Cheaper Edition. ' Crown 8vo. y. 6d.

LECTURES ON THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION. Cabinet
Edition. Crown 8vo. $s. Cheaper Edition, y. 6d.

*#* A Complete List of Cardinal Newman's Works can be had on Application.

Osborne.— Works by EDWARD OSBORNE, Mission Priest of the

Society of St. John the Evangelist, Covvley, Oxford.
THE CHILDREN'S SAVIOUR. Instructions to Children on the Life

of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Illustrated. i6mo. zs. 6d.
THE SAVIOUR KING. Instructions to 'Children on Old Testament
Types and Illustrations of the Life of Christ. Illustrated. i6mo. 2s. 6d.
THE CHILDREN'S FAITH. Instructions to Children on the Apostles'
Creed. Illustrated. i6mo. zs. 6d.

Overton.— THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN THE NINE-
TEENTH CENTURY, 1800-1833. By the Rev. JOHN H. OVERTON,
D.D., Canon of Lincoln, Rector of Epworth, Doncaster, and Rural
Dean of the Isle of Axholme. %vo. 14^.

Oxenden.— Works by the Right Rev. ASHTON OXENDEN,
formerly Bishop of Montreal.

PLAIN SERMONS, to which is prefixed a Memorial Portrait. Crown

8vo. 5-y.

THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE : An Autobiography. Crown 8vo. 5*.
PEACE AND ITS HINDRANCES. Crown Zvo. u. sewed, 2s. cloth.
THE PATHWAY OF SAFETY ; or, Counsel to the Awakened. Fcap.

8vo, large type. zs. 6d. Cheap Edition. Small type, li?np, is.
THE EARNEST COMMUNICANT. New Red Rubric Edition.

3zmo, cloth. 2S. Common Edition. %2mo. is.
OUR CHURCH AND HER SERVICES. Fcap. 8vo. zs. 6d.

[continued.

14 A SELECTION OF WORKS

Oxenden. — Works by the Right Rev. ASHTON OXENDEN

formerly Bishop of Montreal — continued.

FAMILY PRAYERS FOR FOUR WEEKS. First Series. Fcap. 8vo.
2s. 6d. Second Series. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.

LARGE TYPE EDITION. Two Series in one Volume, Crown Svo. 6s.
COTTAGE SERMONS ; or, Plain Words to the Poor. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
THOUGHTS FOR HOLY WEEK. i6mo, cloth, is. 6d.
DECISION, rtmo. is. 6d.

THE HOME BEYOND ; or, A Happy Old Age. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d.
THE LABOURING MAN'S BOOK. i8mo, large type, cloth, is. 6d.

Paget. — Works by FRANCIS PAGET, D.D., Dean of Christ Church.

STUDIES IN THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER : Sermons. With an
Introductory Essay. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.

THE SPIRIT OF DISCIPLINE: Sermons. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.

FACULTIES AND DIFFICULTIES FOR BELIEF AND DIS-
BELIEF. Crown %vo. 6s. 6d.

THE HALLOWING OF WORK. Addresses given at Eton, January
16-18, 1888. Small 8vo. 2s.

PRACTICAL REFLECTIONS. By a CLERGYMAN. With
Prefaces by H. P. LIDDON, D.D., D.C.L., and the BISHOP OF
LINCOLN. Crown 8vo.

THE HOLY GOSPELS. 4*. 6d.
ACTS TO REVELATIONS. 6s.

THE BOOK OF GENESIS. 4*. 6d.
THE PSALMS. 5*.
ISAIAH. 4^. 6d.

PRIEST (THE) TO THE ALTAR ; or, Aids to the Devout
Celebration of Holy Communion, chiefly after the Ancient English
Use of Sarum. Royal 8vo. izs.

Prynne. — THE TRUTH AND REALITY OF THE

EUCHARISTIC SACRIFICE, Proved from Holy Scripture, the
Teaching: of the Primitive Church, and the Book of Common Prayer.
By the Rev. GEORGE RUNDLE PKYNN£, M.A. Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d.

Puller.— THE PRIMITIVE SAINTS AND THE SEE OF
ROME. By F. W. PULLER, M.A., Mission Priest of the Society of
St. John Evangelist, Cowley, Oxford. Crown 8vo. js. 6d.

Pusey.— LIFE OF EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY, D.D.
By HENRY PARRY LIDDON, D.D., D.C.L., LL.D. Edited and pre-
pared for publication by the Rev. J. O. JOHNSTON, M.A., Principal
of the Theological College, Vicar of Cuddesdon, Oxford, and the Rev.
ROBERT J. WILSON, D.D., Warden of Keble College. With Portraits
and Illustrations. Four Vols. %vo. Vols. /. and 1 1., $6s. Vol.HI.ti8s.

Pusey.— Works by the Rev. E. B. PUSEY, D.D.

PRIVATE PRAYERS. With Preface by H. P. LIDDON, D.D. 320*0. is.
SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF EDWARD BOUVERIE
PUSEY, D.D. Crown 8vo. 3*. 6d.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE.

Sanday.— Works by W. SANDAY, D.D., Dean Ireland's Professor
of Exegesis and Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford.

INSPIRATION : Eight Lectures on the Early History and Origin of the
Doctrine of Biblical Inspiration. Being the Bampton Lectures for
1893. Svo. i6j.

THE ORACLES OF GOD : Nine Lectures on the Nature and Extent of
Biblical Inspiration and the Special Significance of the Old Testament
Scriptures at the Present Time. Crown Svo. qs.

TWO PRESENT-DAY QUESTIONS. I. Biblical Criticism. II. The
Social Movement. Sermons preached before the University of Cam-
bridge. Crown Svo. zs. 6d.

Seebohm.— THE OXFORD REFORMERS— JOHN COLET,
ERASMUS, AND THOMAS MORE : A History of their Fellow-
Work. By FREDERICK SEEBOHM. Svo. 14?.

Stanton.— THE PLACE OF AUTHORITY IN MATTERS
OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF. By VINCENT HENRY STANTON, D.D.,
Fellow of Trinity Coll., Ely Prof, of Divinity, Cambridge. Cr. Svo. 6s.

Williams.— Works by the Rev. ISAAC WILLIAMS, B.D.

A DEVOTIONAL COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL NARRA-
TIVE, Eight Vols. Crown Svo. 5*. each. Sold Separately.

THOUGHTS ON THE STUDY OF THE

HOLY GOSPELS. THE HoLY WEEK>

A HARMONY OF THE FOUR GOSPELS.
OUR LORD'S NATIVITY. °UR ^^ s PASSION'

OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (Second Year).

OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (Third Year).

OUR LORD'S RESURRECTION.

FEMALE CHARACTERS OF HOLY SCRIPTURE. A Series of
Sermons, Crown Svo. 5*.

THE CHARACTERS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. Crown Svo. 55.

THE APOCALYPSE. With Notes and Reflections. Crown Svo. 5*.

SERMONS ON THE EPISTLES AND GOSPELS FOR THE SUN-
DAYS AND HOLY DAYS. Two Vols. Crown Svo. $s. each.

PLAIN SERMONS ON CATECHISM. Two Vols. Cr. Svo. 55. tact.

SELECTIONS FROM ISAAC WILLIAMS' WRITINGS. Cr. Svo.
y. 6d.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ISAAC WILLIAMS, B.D., Author of
several of the 'Tracts for the Times.' Edited by the Venerable Sir
GEORGE PREVOST, as throwing further light on the history of the
Oxford Movement. Crown Svo. 5*.

[continued.

16 A SELECTION OF THEOLOGICAL WORKS.

Wordsworth. — Works by the late CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH,

D.D., Bishop of Lincoln.

THE HOLY BIBLE (the Old Testament). With Notes, Introductions,
and Index. Imperial 8vo.

Vol. I. THE PENTATEUCH. 25*. Vol. II. JOSHUA TO SAMUEL. 155.
Vol. III. KINGS to ESTHER. i$s. Vol. IV. JOB TO SONG OF
SOLOMON. 2$j. Vol. V. ISAIAH TO EZEKIEL. 25$. Vol. VI.
DANIEL, MINOR PROPHETS, and Index. 155.

Also supplied in 12 Parts. Sold separately.

THE NEW TESTAMENT, in the Original Greek. With Notes, Intro-
ductions, and Indices. Imperial 8vo.

Vol. I. GOSPELS AND ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. 23*. Vol. II.
EPISTLES, APOCALYPSE, and Indices. 37.5-.

Also supplied in 4 Parts. Sold separately.
LECTURES ON INSPIRATION OF THE BIBLE. Small Svo.

is. 6d. cloth, is. sewed.

A CHURCH HISTORY TO A.D. 451. Four Vols. Crown Zvo.
Vol. I. To THE COUNCIL OF NIOEA, A.D. 325. 8s. 6d. Vol. II.
FROM THE COUNCIL OF NicasA TO THAT OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
6s. Vol. III. CONTINUATION. 6s. Vol. IV. CONCLUSION, To
THE COUNCIL OF CHALCEDON, A.D. 451. 6s.
THEOPHILUS ANGLICANUS: a Manual of Instruction on the

Church and the Anglican Branch of it. izmo. 2s. 6d.
ELEMENTS OF INSTRUCTION ON THE CHURCH. 160*0.

is. cloth. 6d. sewed.

ST. HIPPOLYTUS AND THE CHURCH OF ROME. Cr. 8vo. 75. 6d.
ON UNION WITH ROME. Small 8vo. is. 6d. Sewed, is.
THE HOLY YEAR : Original Hymns. i6mo. zs. 6d. and is. Limp, 6d
„ ,, With Music. Edited by W. H. MONK. Square 8vo. 45. 6d.

GU I DES AND GOADS. (An English Edition of ' Ethica et Spiritualia. ' )

32mo. is. 6d.

MISCELLANIES,* Literary and Religious. Three Vols. 8vo. 36s.
ON THE INTERMEDIATE STATE OF THE SOUL AFTER
DEATH. 2mo. is.

YounghusbancL— -Works by FRANCES YOUNGHUSBAND.

THE STORY OF OUR LORD, told in Simple Language for Children.

With 25 Illustrations on Wood from Pictures by the Old Masters,

and numerous Ornamental Borders, Initial Letters, etc., from Long-

mans' New Testament. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
THE STORY OF THE EXODUS, told in Simple Language for

Children. With Map and 29 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.

Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty,
at the Edinburgh University Press.

YB 2220