Skip to main content

Full text of "Sermons"

See other formats 


■^^J^y 


"  \i  <»  ■*    ti .-; 


'.Ww*'  W*^ 


iiiwr ;  '."I'S)  i  1  c 


m>^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


'm 


N»>  £ 


v^'wvwVw, 


'^w-w-^-y*!^ 


-SSS^*'^"" 


iii^ 


^^ 


^K^ 
y^^ 


r:mm^. 


<4^'  J?»= 


m. 


•'«*'*«) 


JlpMWM.r 


^wfeu^^ 


^y\v^w 


»c*^i«:;? 


^vw 


V^.'T.'.TVi 


«« 


^^^ 


'^^r..- 


^^■^, 


11 


M^m^mid 


S^^ 


>USi\J^ 


^iiliClEBPlit^ 


«^'ii?S!^»->«..>>'^':;       ^'■- 


iVw-.\.wc>'- 


T~:^^^-   M^^if^^^l'^^ 


SERMONS. 


LONDON : 

PlilNTED  BY  ROBSOS,  LEVEY,  AND  FRANKLYN, 

Great  New  Street,  Fetter  Lane. 


SERMONS. 


BY 


HENRY  EDWARD  MANNING,  M,A. 

ARCHDEACON  OF  CUICHESTER. 


VOLUME   THIRD. 


iffonU  (i?Dition. 


LONDON: 
JAMES  BURNS,  17  I'ORTMAN  STREET, 

rouTMAN  sdiMiir. : 
80I,U  ALSO  BY  W.  II.  M.VSON,  CllICIIESTEU. 

1847. 


BENJAMIN  HARRISON,  M.A. 

ARCHDEACON  OF  MAIDSTONE, 

AS    A    TOKEN    OF    GRATITUDE, 

SLIGHT  AND  UNWORTHY, 

FOR    THE    UNWEARIED    OFFICES 

OF 

A    KIND    AND    I'ATIENT    FHIENDSIIII' 

THROUGH    MANY  YEARS, 

2rt)t9  Folumr 

18 
AKFKOTIONATKLY    I  NSOUl  liE  It. 


VdiKW:)^: 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  I. 

THE  GOOD   SHEPHERD. 

PAOR 

I  am  the  Good  Shepherd. —  St.  John  x.  11.         .         .         .         .         1 
SERMON  II. 

THE  TRUE   SHEEP. 

I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  know  My  sheep,  and  am  known  of 

Mine.— St.  John  X.  14 21 

SERMON  III. 

THE  GREAT  MOTIVE. 

Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word  or  deed,  do  all  in  the  name  of  the 

Lord  Jesus. — Colossians  iii.  17.     .         ■  .39 

SERMON  IV. 

HALTING    BETWEEN   OOD    AND  THE   WOKM). 

And  Elijah  came  unto  all  the  people,  and  .said,  ilow  loiip;  halt  yi' 
between  two  opini(ms  .'  If  the  Lord  be  (Jod,  follow  lliin  : 
but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him. — 1  KIikjh  xviii.  21.    .  .         .       Ti  I 

SERMON  V. 

THE  .SIN.S  THAT   FOLLOW   U.S. 

Some  men's  sins  are  open  beforehand,  poinf;  before  to  judgment ; 

and  some  men  they  follow  aftir.  —  I  Timothy  \.  2\.  7' 


VIII  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  VI. 

SELF-DECEIT. 

I'AOE 

He  that  trustctli  in  his  own  heart  is  a  fool.  —  Proverbs  xxviii.  26.       02 
SERMON  VII. 

THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  REGENERATE  WILL. 

Tlic  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  for  the  mani- 
festation of  the  sons  of  God.  For  the  creature  was  made 
subject  to  vanity,  not  willingly,  but  by  reason  of  Him  who 
hath  subjected  the  same,  in  hope.  Because  the  creature 
itself  also  shall  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption 
into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. — Romans  viii. 
19-21 114 

SERMON  VIII. 

SLOWNESS  IN  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE. 

My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust. — Psalm  cxix.  25.        .         .         .134 
SERMON  IX. 

THE   GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE. 

I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it 

more  abundantly. — St.  John  x.  10 159 

SERMON  X. 

THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 

Our  conversation  is  in  heaven  ;  from  whence  also  we  look  for  the 
Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  who  shall  change  our  vile 
body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  His  glorious  body. — 
Philippians  iii.  20.         ........     182 

SERMON  XI. 

THE   CROSS  THE   MEASURE   OF   SIN. 

Many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell  you 
even  weeping,  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Philippians  iii.  18.        .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .201 


CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XII. 

THE  CROSS  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE. 


PAGE 


And  to  know  the  love   of  Christ,  which   passeth   knowledge. - 

Ephesiaiis  in.  IQ.  .  .         .         .  .217 

SERMON  XIII. 

A   LIFE   OF   PRAYER  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE. 

Rejoice  in  the  Lord  alway  :  and  again  I  say.  Rejoice.  Let  your 
moderation  be  known  unto  all  men.  The  Lord  is  at  hand. 
Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer  and 
supplication  with  thanksgiving  let  your  requests  be  made 
known  unto  God.  And  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all 
understanding,  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Christ  Jesus. — Philippians  iv.  4,  5,  6.  .  .  .  .     240 

SERMON  Xn'. 

THE  INTERCESSION   OF  CHRIST  THE   STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS. 

This  Man,  because  He  continueth  ever,  hath  an  unchangeable 
priesthood.  Wherefore  He  is  able  also  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost  that  come  unto  God  by  Him,  seeing  He  ever  livcth 
to  make  intercession  for  them. — Hebretvs  vii.  24,  25.      .         .     255 

SERMON  XV. 

PRAISE. 

Let  every  thinf;  that  hatli  breath  praise  the  Lord.      I'raise  ye  the 

Lord. — P.mlm  cl.  0.      .  2r<' 

SERMON  XVI. 

THK   on  EAT   CO.VrROVEUbY. 

Shew  me  wherefore  'Ihou  contendest  with  mc. — Job  x.  2.   .  '2[)'3 

SERMON  XVII. 

I'RKPARATIO.V    lOU   DEATH    A    STATE    OK   LIFE. 

'J'hus  saith  the  Lord,  Set  thine  house  in  order  :   for  thou  h.hall 

die,  ami  not  live. —  luala/i  xxxviii.  J.      .  .  .      :'. I  I 


X  CONTENTS. 

SERMON  XVIII. 

THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  STAY. 

TAOR 

Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  hiy  down  his 

life  for  his  friends. — St.  John  \v.  13 331 

SERMON  XIX. 

THE  FEARFULNESS   OF   DEATH. 

My  heart  is  sore  pained  within  me,  and  the  terrors  of  death  are 

fallen  upon  me. — Psalm  Iv.  4 352 

SERMON  XX. 

THE   BLESSEDNESS   OF  DEATH. 

I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be 

with  Christ,  which  is  far  better. — PMlippians  i.  23.        .  .     370 

SERMON  XXI. 

THE  SNARE   OF  THE   AVORLD   AND  THE  DRAWING   OF  CHRIST  THE 
TWO   GREAT  ANTAGONISTS. 

Draw  me,  we  will  run  after  Thee. — Son(/  of  Solomon  i.  4.  .     388 

SERMON  XXII. 

THE   GREAT  BETROTHAL. 

My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  His. — Sow//  of  Solomon  ii.  16.      .     411 
SERMON  XXIII. 

THE  VISION    OF  BEAUTY. 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  His  beauty  :  they  shall  behold 

the  land  that  is  verv  far  off. — /saia/j  xxxiii.  17.       •         .         .     431 


SEKMON  L.  .;v. ;  v. 


THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD. 


St.  John  x.  11. 
"  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd." 

Of  all  the  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  there 
are  none  more  deeply  engraven  in  the  mind  of 
the  Church,  none  more  dear  to  her  than  these. 
This  is  one  of  those  divine  sayings  in  which 
there  is  so  much  of  truth  and  love,  that  we  seem 
able  to  do  little  more  than  to  record  it  and  pon- 
der on  it,  to  express  it  by  symbols,  and  to  draw 
from  it  a  multitude  of  peaceful  and  heavenly 
tlioughts.  It  is  full  of  figures  and  analogies  of 
loving-kindness.  It  is  almost  sacramental  in  its 
depth  and  power.  To  expound  or  comment  upon 
it,  or  further  to  illustrate  its  moaning,  seems  im- 
possible. The  Truth  has  said  of  Himself,  "I  am 
the  Good  Shepherd."  All  love,  care,  providence, 
devotion,  watchfulness,  that  is  in  earth  or  in  hea- 

VOL.  III.  B 


2  THE  GOOD   SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

vcn,  in  the  ministry  of  men  or  of  angels,  is  but 
a  reflection  and  participation  of  that  which  is  in 
Him.  Surely  nothing  but  the  vision  of  His  Pre- 
sence in  glory  can  exceed  this  revelation  of  Him- 

•splf,        .    . , .     .  . 

'  These  wc^rdg.  .have  taken  so  deep  a  hold  of  the 

•  hearts:  .of- fjlij /people,  that,  from  the  beginning, 
they  passed  into  a  common  title  for  their  exalted 
Head.  It  was  the  symbol  under  which,  in  times 
of  persecution,  His  Presence  was  shadowed  forth. 
It  was  sculptured  on  the  walls  of  sepulchres  and 
catacombs  ;  it  was  painted  in  upper  chambers  and 
in  oratories ;  it  was  traced  upon  their  sacred 
books  ;  it  was  graven  on  the  vessels  of  the  altar. 
The  image  of  the  Good  Shepherd  has  expressed, 
as  in  a  parable,  all  their  deepest  affections,  fond- 
est musings,  most  docile  obedience,  most  devoted 
trust.  It  is  a  Title  in  which  all  other  titles  meet, 
in  the  light  of  which  they  blend  and  lose  them- 
selves. Priest,  Prophet,  King,  Saviour,  and  Guide, 
are  all  summed  up  in  this  one  more  than  royal, 
paternal,  saving  name.  It  recalls  in  one  word  all 
the  mercies  and  lovnig-kindness  of  God  to  His 
people  of  old,  when  "  the  Shepherd  of  Israel"  made 
His  own  people  "  to  go  forth  like  sheep,  and  guided 
them  in  the  wilderness  like  a  flock."'  It  recites,  as 
it  were,  all  the  prophecies  and  types  of  the  Divine 

1  Ps.  Ixxviii.  52. 


I  ]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  3 

care  which  were  then  yet  to  be  revealed  to  Ilis 
elect  :  it  revives  the  visions  of  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel ; 
"  He  shall  feed  His  flock  like  a  shepherd  ;  He  shall 
gather  the  lambs  with  His  arm,  and  carry  them 
in  His  bosom,  and  shall  gently  lead  those  that  are 
w  ith  young."'  "  As  a  shepherd  seeketh  out  his  flock 
in  the  day  that  he  is  among  his  sheep  that  are 
scattered  ;  so  will  I  seek  out  My  sheep,  and  will 
deliver  them  out  of  all  places  where  they  have 
been  scattered  in  the  dark  and  cloudy  day.  And 
I  will  bring  them  out  from  the  people,  and 
gather  them  from  the  countries,  and  will  bring 
them  to  their  own  land,  and  feed  them  upon  the 
mountains  of  Israel,  by  the  rivers,  and  in  all  the 
inhabited  places  of  the  country.  I  will  feed  them 
in  a  good  pasture,  and  upon  the  high  mountains 
of  Israel  shall  their  fold  be :  there  shall  they  lie 
in  a  good  fold,  and  in  a  fat  pasture  shall  they 
feed  upon  the  mountains  of  Israel.  I  will  feed 
i\Iy  flock,  and  I  will  cause  them  to  lie  down,  saitli 
the  Lord  God.  I  will  seek  that  which  was  lost, 
and  bring  again  that  which  was  driven  away,  and 
will  bind  up  that  which  was  broken,  and  will 
strengthen  that  which  was  sick."  "And  I  will 
set  up  one  shepherd  over  them,  and  he  shall  feed 
them,  even  My  servant  David  ;  he  shall  feed  them, 
and  he  shall  l)o  their  shepherd.     And  I  the  Lord 

1  Isaiah  xl.  11. 


4  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

will  be  their  God,  and  My  servant  David  a  prince 
among  them  ;  I  the  Lord  have  spoken  it.  And 
I  will  make  with  them  a  covenant  of  peace,  and 
will  cause  the  evil  beasts  to  cease  out  of  the  land  : 
and  they  shall  dwell  safely  in  the  wilderness,  and 
sleep  in  the  w^oods.  And  I  will  make  them  and 
the  places  round  about  My  hill  a  blessing  ;  and  I 
will  cause  the  shower  to  come  down  in  his  sea- 
son ;  there  shall  be  showers  of  blessing.  And  the 
tree  of  the  field  shall  yield  her  fruit,  and  the  earth 
shall  yield  her  increase,  and  they  shall  be  safe  in 
their  land,  and  shall  know  that  I  am  the  Lord, 
W'hen  I  have  broken  the  bands  of  their  yoke." 
"  And  David  My  servant  shall  be  king  over  them  ; 
and  they  shall  all  have  one  shepherd."  "  They 
shall  feed  in  the  ways,  and  their  pasture  shall 
be  in  all  high  places.  They  shall  not  hunger  nor 
thirst ;  neither  shall  the  heat  nor  sun  smite  them  : 
for  He  that  hath  mercy  on  them  shall  lead  them, 
even  by  the  springs  of  water  shall  He  guide  them."' 
And,  moreover,  by  this  Title  He  appropriates  to 
Himself  the  fulfilment  of  His  own  most  deep  and 
touching  parable  of  the  lost  sheep.  There  is  no 
thought  or  emotion  of  pity,  compassion,  gentleness, 
patience,  and  love,  which  is  not  here  expressed.  It 
is  the  peculiar  consolation  of  the  weak,  or  of  them 
that  are  out  of  the  way  ;  of  the  lost  and  wandering ; 

1  Ezek.  xxxiv.  12-27;  xxxvii.  24  ;  Isaiah  xlix.  9,  10. 


I]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  5 

of  the  whole  flock  of  God  here  scattered  abroad  "in 
the  midst  of  this  naughty  world."  And  though  it 
be  an  Office  taken  on  earth,  and  in  the  time  of  our 
infirmity,  it  is  a  Name  which  He  will  never  lay 
aside.  Even  in  the  heavenly  glory  it  still  is  among 
His  Titles.  He  is  even  there  "  the  chief  Shep- 
herd," "  that  great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep  ;"  and  in 
the  state  of  bliss  shall  still  o:uide  His  flock  :  thouf^h 
more  fully  to  express  the  unity  of  His  nature  with 
theirs,  and  His  own  spotless  sacrifice  in  their  be- 
half, He  is  called  the  Lamb.  "  The  Lamb  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and 
shall  lead  them  unto  livin^f  fountains  of  waters,'" 
where  they  shall  be  filled  with  brightness. 

In  this,  then,  we  see  the  character  and  office  of 
our  blessed  Master  towards  His  Church,  and  the 
relation  in  which,  though  now  ascended  into  hea- 
ven, He  still  stands  to  us.  It  expresses  generall} 
His  pastoral  relation  of  care  and  love  for  the  uni- 
versal flock  of  the  elect :  but  especially  the  great- 
ness of  that  love  and  care. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  awhile  the  surpassing  and 
peculiar  goodness  of  the  One  True  Sheplierd. 

And    this   He    has    revealed    to    the   world    in 

His  voluntary  death.     There  was  never  any  other 

but    II(*   wlio    (;ani(^    down    IVoiii    heaven    lliat    \\^\ 

might  lay  down    "  His    life    for   tin;    shei'p."      lie 

1  Ilov.  vii.  17. 


b  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

is  the  true  David,  wlio  said,   "  Thy  servant  kept 
his  father's  sheep,  and  there  came  a  lion,  and  a 
bear,  and  took  a  lamb  out  of  the  flock  :  and  I  went 
out   after  him,   and  smote  him,   and   delivered  it 
out  of  his  mouth  :  and  when  he  arose  against  me, 
I  caught  him  by  his  beard,  and  smote  him,  and 
slew  him.'"     When  out  of  the  countless  flock  of 
creatures,  one,  and   that  the  weakest,  was  caught 
away  from   the  true  fold  of  God,  He  came  down 
*'  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost ;"  to  seek 
it  even   unto  death,  and  in  death  itself;    and  to 
follow  the  lost  along   "  the   valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,"  gathering  the  scattered  and  outcast  of 
His  Father's  flock,   and  fulfilling  His   word  :   "  I 
will  surely  assemble  thee,  O  Jacob,  all  of  thee  ;  I 
will  surely  gather  the  remnant  of  Israel ;    I  will 
put  them  together  as  the  sheep  of  Bozrah,  as  the 
flock  in  the  midst  of  their  fold."     By  death  He 
destroyed  him  that  had  the  power  of  death  ;   and 
by  His  resurrection  He  made  a  way  for  the  ran- 
somed to  pass  through.      "  The  breaker  is  come 
up  before  them  :  they  have  broken  up,  and  have 
passed  through  the  gate,  and  are  gone  out  by  it : 
and  their  king   shall   pass  before  them,   and  the 
Lord  on  the  head  of  them."^     "  O  Israel,  thou  hast 
destroyed  thyself ;  but  in  Me  is  thine  help.     I  will 
be  thy  King  :    where  is   any  other  that  may  save 

1  1  Sam.  xvii.  34,  35.  2  Micah  ii.  12,  13. 


I.]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  7 

thee  in  all  thy  cities  ?  and  thy  judges  of  whom 
thou  saidst,  Give  me  a  king  and  princes  ?  I  will 
ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the  grave  ;  I 
will  redeem  them  from  death  :  O  death,  I  will  be 
thy  plagues  ;  O  grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction.'" 
"  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd  :  the  Good  Shepherd 
giveth  His  life  for  the  sheep.  But  he  that  is  an 
hireling,  and  not  the  shepherd,  whose  own  the  sheep 
are  not,  seeth  the  wolf  coming,  and  leaveth  the 
sheep,  and  fleeth :  and  the  wolf  catcheth  them,  and 
scattereth  the  sheep.  The  hireling  fleeth,  because 
he  is  an  hireling,  and  careth  not  for  the  sheep.  I 
am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  know  My  sheep,  and 
am  known  of  Mine.  As  the  Father  knoweth  Me, 
even  so  know  I  the  Father  :  and  I  lay  down  My  life 
for  the  sheep."^  This  is  the  one  perpetual  token 
of  Ilis  great  love  to  all  mankind,  —  a  token  ever 
fresh,  quickened  with  life,  full  of  power  to  persuade 
and  subdue  the  hearts  of  His  people  to  Himself. 
"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends  :'"  and  therefore 
the  Death  of  the  Good  Shepherd  is  the  subject  of 
all  the  Cliurcli's  testimony.  Tlu;  holy  Eucharist 
is  a  type  of  her  whole  office  to  "  shew^  I'orth  the 
Lord's  death  till  He  come."  It  is  the  great  mystery 
of  love,  the  mighty  power  of  conversion,  ilu;  true 

'  Hosea  xiii.  [),  10,  Ik  -  St.  .luliii  x.  1  1-15. 

•'  St.  John  XV.  l.!. 


8  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

and  very  life  of  our  love  to  Him,  the  pledge  that 
He  loved  us  before  we  were  ;  and  that  He  loves 
us  still,  even  after  our  fall.  "  While  we  were  yet 
enemies,  Christ  died  for  us  ;"  "  that  He  might  ga- 
ther together  in  one  the  children  of  God  that  are 
scattered  abroad."  "  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we 
loved  God,  but  that  He  loved  us."  "  We  love 
Him,  because  He  first  loved  us." 

Again,  His  surpassing  goodness  is  shewn  in  the 
provision  He  has  made  of  all  things  necessary  for 
the  salvation  of  His  flock  in  this  state  of  mortality 
and  sin.  There  can  no  soul  fail  of  eternal  life,  of 
reaching  the  rest  of  the  true  fold  in  Heaven,  except 
by  his  own  free  will.  As  the  blood-shedding  of 
the  Good  Shepherd  is  a  full  and  perfect  ransom 
for  all  His  flock,  so  has  He  pledged  the  perpetual 
exercise  of  His  unseen  pastoral  care  to  give  us  all 
that  is  needed  for  our  salvation. 

1.  And  for  this  He  has  provided,  first  of  all, 
in  the  external  foundation  and  visible  perpetuity 
of  His  Church.  He  has  secured  it  by  the  com- 
mission to  baptize  all  nations,  by  the  universal 
preaching  of  His  Apostles,  by  shedding  abroad  the 
Holy  Ghost,  by  the  revelation  of  all  truth,  by  the 
universal  tradition  of  the  faith  in  all  the  world. 
For  the  perpetuity  of  the  Church  He  has  pledged 
His  Divine  word,  that  "  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  it ;"  and  in  this  He  has  pro- 


I.]  THE  GOOD   SIIEPHERD.  9 

videcl  for  the  perpetuity  both  of  truth  and  grace. 
For  what  is  the  perpetuity  of  the  Church  but  the 
perpetuity  of  the  society  of  them  that  are  "  sancti- 
fied through  the  truth  ?"  And  how  shall  this  be, 
unless  the  means  of  sanctification,  the  Faith  and 
the  holy  Sacraments,  are  likewise  perpetual  ?  The 
universal  promulgation  of  the  truth,  and  the  univer- 
sal delivery  of  the  holy  Sacraments  to  the  Church 
planted  in  all  lands,  is  a  supernatural  fact  —  a  mi- 
racle sustained  by  Divine  power,  wrought  once  for 
all,  and  containing  the  surest  provisions  of  perpe- 
tuity, through  the  presence  of  Christ  by  the  Spirit. 
Therefore,  as  the  Church  is  indefectible,  though 
particular  members  of  it  may  fail  of  life  eternal, 
so  it  can  never  lose  the  truth,  though  particular 
branches  of  it  may  err.  In  like  manner  of  the  holy 
Sacraments  and  mysteries  of  grace.  Our  Lord  said 
to  His  Apostles,  and  through  them  to  us,  "  Lo, 
I  am  with  you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
world."  The  commission,  authority,  succession, 
and  power  of  the  Apostles,  is  included  in  that  pre- 
sence, and  upheld  l)y  it.  Howsoever  it  may  be  for- 
feited by  any  branches  of  the  visible  Church,  yet  it 
will  alwavs  l)e  perpetuated  witli  the  i^il't  of  increase 
and  multiplication,  until  tlie  (l;iy  of  Christ's  coming. 
And  in  tliat  apostolic  commission  are  conlaincd  all 
the  acts  and  sacraments  by  wliidi  the  grace  ofCliiist 
is  bestowed  upon  mankind,  from  the  first   cngral't- 


10  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

iiig  of  souls  into  His  body,  to  the  last  strengthening 
food  which  is  given  to  the  passing  saint.  It  is  in 
the  tenderness  of  His  pastoral  care  that  He  has 
ordained  the  priesthood  of  His  Church.  He  who 
gave  His  life  for  all,  "  would  have  all  men  to  be 
saved,  and  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth." 
"  Whosoever  shall  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord 
shall  be  saved.  How  then  shall  they  call  on  Him 
in  whom  they  have  not  believed?  and  how  shall 
they  believe  in  Him  of  whom  they  have  not  heard  ? 
and  how  shall  they  hear  without  a  preacher?"' 
How  shall  they  ?  It  is  the  voice  not  more  of  the 
Gospel  than  of  the  pure  reason,  that  the  perpetuity 
of  faith  upon  earth  is  bound  up  with  the  per- 
petuity of  the  apostolic  commission ;  nay,  further, 
that  the  evangelical  ministry  is  the  means  to  the 
perfection  of  the  saints.  "  He  gave  some,  apostles  ; 
and  some,  prophets  j  and  some,  evangelists ;  and 
some,  pastors  and  teachers  ;  for  the  perfecting  of  the 
saints" — and  more,  the  perfection  of  the  true  city 
of  God  depends,  by  Divine  will,  on  the  organiza- 
tion and  unity  of  the  apostolic  body  which  was 
ordained — "  for  the  w^ork  of  the  ministry,  for  the 
edifying  of  the  body  of  Christ :  till  we  all  come  in 
the  unitv  of  the  faith,  and  of  the  knowledo-e  of  the 
Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measure 
of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ."     And  fur- 

'  Rom.  X,  13,  14. 


I.]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  *    1  1 

ther  still,  in  the  perpetuity  of  this  same  ministry 
is  also  contained  the  perpetuity  and  unity  of  the 
faith  itself;  "  that  we  henceforth  be  no  more  chil- 
dren, tossed  to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with 
every  wind  of  doctrine," — as  all  human  schools  and 
teachers  ever  have  been  and  ever  shall  be — "by 
the  sleight  of  men,  and  cunning  craftiness,  where- 
by they  lie  in  wait  to  deceive."  And  lastly,  in 
the  same  stcdfast  succession  of  the  Church,  both 
Pastors  and  Flock,  is  the  virtual  perfection  of  the 
whole  mystical  body  of  Christ :  "  but  speaking  the 
truth  in  love,  may  grow  up  into  Him  in  all  things, 
which  is  the  Head,  even  Christ :  from  whom  the 
whole  body  fitly  joined  together  and  compacted  by 
that  which  every  joint  supplieth,  according  to  the 
eflPectual  working  in  the  measure  of  every  part, 
maketh  increase  of  the  body  unto  the  edifying  of 
itself  in  love."' 

How  thankless  and  disloyal  are  wc,  then,  to  the 
Good  Shepherd,  if  we  use  the  great  and  blessed 
truths  of  the  Unity  of  His  Fold,  and  the  succession 
of  His  pastors,  as  antagonistic  and  controversial 
dogmas.  What  can  be  more  meagre  and  melancholy 
than  to  contend  for  them  as  externals  and  forms, 
and  theories  of  Church-government  ?  Surely,  thcn^ 
are  no  truths  more  strictly  and  simply  practical  llian 
these  —  none  mon;  lull  of  direct  benedictions  to  the 

'  Kphe.«.  iv.  11-lG. 


12  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

faithful — more  vivid,  real,  and  sustaining.  For 
what  is  the  unity  of  His  fold,  hut  the  overliving 
token  of  the  presence  and  love  of  the  heavenly 
Shepherd,  gathering  in  one  the  world-wide  flock 
under  His  own  pastoral  staff?  Is  it  not  a  living 
and  life-giving  sign  of  His  perpetual  indwelling? 
Is  it  a  mere  pale  which  encompasses  His  true  fold  ? 
a  hollow  external  form,  remote  from  the  life  of  the 
Church  ?  Is  it  not  the  one  Body  of  the  one  Spirit 
— the  living  organization  of  the  life-giving  unity  of 
Christ  ?  What  then  do  controversies  and  bicker- 
ings about  the  nature  of  His  Church,  and  divisions 
for  the  sake  of  its  unity,  prove,  but  that  we  have 
not  attained  to  so  much  as  a  perception  of  the 
spiritual  reality  that  quickens  the  one  Fold  under 
one  Shepherd  ?  It  may  seem  to  be  empty  and 
lifeless  to  the  wise  of  this  world  ;  but  it  is  full  of 
tenderness  for  the  poor  and  lost.  It  is  specially 
for  them  that  He  has  called  His  servants  to  a 
fellowship  in  His  pastoral  care.  "  Thus  saith  the 
Lord  my  God;  Feed  the  flock  of  the  slaughter" 
• — that  is,  the  elect,  despised,  neglected,  slain  — 
*'  whose  possessors  slay  them,  and  hold  themselves 
not  guilty  :  and  they  that  sell  them  say.  Blessed  be 
the  Lord ;  for  I  am  rich :  and  their  own  shepherds 
pity  them  not."  "  I  will  feed  the  flock  of  slaugh- 
ter, even  you,  O  poor  of  the  flock  ;'"  that  is,  I  will 

'  Zech.  xi.  4,  5,  7. 


I.]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  13 

send  and  seek  you  ;  I  will  find  you,  O  wandering 
sheep — the  young,  the  ignorant,  the  helpless  ;  "  the 
poor"  shall  "  have  the  Gospel  preached  to  them." 

If  there  be  one  institution  of  Jesus  Christ,  in 
which  the  love,  tenderness,  care,   and  providence 
of  the   Good  Shepherd  be  revealed,  it  is  in   the 
commission  and  perpetual   succession  of  His  pas- 
tors :    for,  in  one  word,  it  is  this, — that  from  the 
time  of  His  going  away  to  the  time  of  His  coming 
again,  there  shall  never  be  wanting,  in  the  darkest 
day,  a  chosen  brotherhood,  bound  by  all  the  vows 
which  can  constrain  the  hearts  of  men  to  live  a  life 
of  pity  and  compassion,  humility  and  gentleness,  toil 
and  love ;  and  that  not  for  themselves,  nor  for  their 
own  kindred,  nor  for  their  own  blood  ;  but  for  "  the 
poor  of  tlie  flock"  —  for  the   ignorant,  wandering, 
weary,  soiled,  outcast,  perishing  sheep  of  Christ. 
If  the  goodness  of  the  heavenly  Pastor  be  not  here, 
let  any  one  shew  where  it  may  be  found.     If  there 
be    any    persuasion,    any    faith,    which    is    full    of 
warmth,  life,   energy,  consolation,  love,   to  all  the 
faithful,  but   above    all  to   the   ignorant,   helpless, 
afflicted,    mid    poor,    it    is    that   of  the    One    Holy 
Catholic  Church,  as  we  confess  it  in  our  IJaptismal 
creed,    the   one    true    I'^old   of  the   oiu;   (Jood    Slicp- 
licid.      It   is  Ho  that  still  visibly  discliarncs   upcni 
earth  the  manifold  functions  of  His  pastoral  ollice, 
signing  His  sliccj)  in  holy   I>a])li^m,  guidinLT  tluMu 


14  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Skrm. 

into  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  carrying  the  weak 
in  His  bosom,  bringing  back  again  the  lost  by  re- 
pentance, binding  up  the  wounded  with  His  words 
of  consolation,  feeding  all  souls  that  follow  Him 
with  the  food  of  eternal  life,  folding  them  within 
the  pale  of  salvation.  What  the  Church  does  on 
earth,  it  does  in  His  power  and  name  ;  and  He, 
through  it,  fulfils  His  own  shepherd  care.  This, 
then,  is  the  external  ministration  of  His  goodness. 

2.  But  once  more.  His  love  and  care  are  shewn 
not  only  in  the  external  and  visible  provision  which 
He  thus  made  beforehand  for  the  perpetual  wants 
of  His  flock,  but  in  the  continual  and  internal  pro- 
vidence wherewith  He  still  watches  over  it.  The 
whole  history  of  His  Church  from  the  beginning — 
the  ages  of  persecution,  and  "  times  of  refreshing  ;" 
the  great  conflicts  of  faith  with  falsehood,  and  of 
the  saints  with  the  seed  of  the  serpent ;  the  whole 
career  of  His  Church  amid  the  king-doms  of  the 
earth  and  changes  of  the  world,  are  a  perpetual 
revelation  of  His  love  and  power.  He  has  been 
gathering  in  His  sheep  one  by  one,  —  apostles,  pro- 
phets, martyrs,  saints,  the  pure  and  the  penitent, 
the  scattered  and  outcast,  drawing  them  into  His 
one  visible  fold,  and  gathering  them  still  more 
closely  and  intimately  to  Himself,  bringing  them 
within  the  folds  of  His  pavilion,  and  into  the 
fellowship    of  His    peculiar  visitations.     All    that 


I]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  15 

the  Father  hath  given  Him  shall  come  to  Ilim. 
"  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  know  My  sheep." 
"  I  know  them  ;"  "  and  I  give  unto  them  eternal 
life,  and  they  shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any 
man  pluck  them  out  of  My  hand.  My  Father,  which 
gave  them  Me,  is  greater  than  all ;  and  no  man  is 
able  to  pluck  them  out  of  My  Father's  hand."' 

The  mystical  number  of  His  flock  is  written 
in  the  book  of  life  ;  and  He  is  ever  fulfilling  it ; 
ever  saying,  through  all  the  course  of  His  Church, 
that  which,  while  on  earth.  He  spake  of  His  elect 
among  the  Gentiles ;  "  Other  sheep  I  have,  which 
are  not  of  this  fold ;"  some  not  entered  yet,  some 
not  born  into  the  world  ;  "  them  also  I  must  bring, 
and  they  shall  hear  My  voice  ;  and  there  shall  be 
one  fold  and  one  shepherd. "- 

Is  not  this  the  wav  He  has  been  dealinix  with 
each  one  of  us  from  the  time  of  our  refjeneration  ? 
Is  not  our  whole  life  full  of  the  tokens  of  His  pas- 
toral care  ?  Sec  how  He  has  sought  as  out,  nnd 
broufjht  us  to  Himself.  Althouj*!!  we  were  out- 
wardly  within  His  fold,  yet  for  how  many  years 
were  we  in  h(;art  and  in  rcalily  altogether  lost, 
wandering  in  follies,  plunged  in  deadly  ])il falls. 
With  what  unwearied  search  did  lie  follow  us 
through  all  our  blind  and  crookcMl  pallis.  \Ve 
met  His  eye  at  every  turn,  and  beheld  liiiii  at 
'  St.  Julm  X.  14,  27-129.  -  St.  .lolm  x.  Ki. 


16  THE  GOOD   SHEPHERD.  [Skrm. 

every  winding  of  our  evil  way.  Perhaps  there 
is  hardly  one  of  us  who  does  not  feel,  on  looking 
back,  that  he  is  not  able  to  find  the  ultimate  and 
true  cause  of  his  conversion  to  God  in  any  of  the 
apparent  motives  which  turned  him  from  the  sin 
in  which  he  w^as  persisting.  If  we  had  been  left 
to  ourselves,  why  should  we  not  have  held  on  our 
orio^inal  course  without  turninfj  at  all — nav,  with 
confidence  and  settled  obstinacy,  wdth  perpetual 
deterioration  and  darkenino^  of  soul  ?  What  w^as 
it  that  turned  us  at  one  time,  when  we  would  not 
be  turned  at  another  ?  Why  then,  and  no  sooner  ; 
and  if  not  sooner,  then  why  at  all  ?  Why,  but  that 
the  Good  Shepherd  had  found  us  at  length  ;  that 
having  never  left  ofi"  to  seek,  lie  had  overtaken 
us  at  last.  He  had  been  always  seeking ;  but  we 
refused  to  be  found. 

And,  surely,  the  same  is  true  even  in  those 
that  live  religiously.  Even  after  we  were  found, 
and  our  hearts  turned  towards  the  true  fold  ;  who 
is  there  that  knows  the  difficulty  of  repentance, — 
that  is,  of  returning  from  error,  and  from  wan- 
dering without  God  in  the  world, — and  does  not 
feel  that,  if  he  had  been  at  any  time  left  to  him- 
self, he  would  have  sunk  down  by  the  way,  or  been 
beguiled  aside,  or  even  turned  back  again  ?  What 
has  forced  us  clean  away  from  habits  which,  by 
their  perilous  allurement  and  subtil  dominion,  had  a 


I  J  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  17 

hold  upon  our  very  heart's  will  ?  What  has  borne 
us  through  the  difficulties  of  humiliation,  self-de- 
nial, chastisement  of  the  flesh  and  spirit,  through 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  repentance,  but  that 
the  Good  Shepherd  had  laid  us  upon  His  shoulders, 
and  bare  us,  all  willing  and  yet  unwilling,  to  our 
home  and  shelter?  And  so  in  like  manner  with 
all  His  servants.  How  is  it  that  they  have  not 
fainted  in  the  way ;  nor  fallen  behind  the  onward 
march  of  the  true  flock  that  follows  Him  ;  nor 
lacked  pasture,  strength,  light,  refreshment,  con- 
solation ?  How  is  it  that  none  have  ever  been 
*'  able  to  pluck  them  out  of  His  hand  ?"  All  the 
schisms  and  heresies  of  proud  and  evil  men  ;  all 
the  baits  of  the  world  ;  all  the  bribes  of  this  cor- 
rupt life  ;  all  the  seductions  of  earthly  pleasure  ;  all 
the  attractions  of  ease  and  sloth  ;  all  the  powers 
<>{'  darkness,  have  spent  themselves  in  vain  against 
the  Hand  that  covers  His  elect.  He  has  kept  and 
folded  us  from  ten  thousand  ills,  when  wc  did  not 
know  it :  in  the  midst  of  our  security  wc  should 
have  perished  every  hour,  but  that  He  sheltered 
us,  "  from  the  terror  by  ni^bt  and  from  the  arrow 
that  flicth  ])y  day"  —  from  tin;  jjowcrs  of  evil  that 
walk  in  darkness,  from  snares  of  our  owu  (>vil  will. 
Tie  has  kept  us  even  against  ourselves,  and  saved 
us  even  from  our  own  undoing-.  Surely,  thouLrh 
He    had    not   taken    to    11  iuisc^lf   this    loving    and 

VOL.  III.  c 


18  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm. 

blessed   Name,   our  own  lives  would  have  taught 
us  to  call  Him  the  Good  Shepherd. 

Let  us,  then,  meditate  on  this  Name  of  love. 
Let  us  read  the  traces  of  His  hand  in  all  our  ways, 
in  all  the  events,  the  chances,  the  changes  of  this 
troubled  state.  It  is  He  that  dispenses  all.  It  is 
He  that  folds  and  feeds  us,  that  makes  us  to  go 
in  and  out — to  be  faint,  or  to  find  pasture — to  lie 
down  by  the  still  waters,  or  to  walk  by  the  way 
that  is  parched  and  desert.  He  hath  said,  "  I 
know  My  sheep ;"  not  their  number  only,  but  their 
needs ;  their  particular  state,  character,  tempta- 
tions, trials,  dangers,  and  infirmities.  I  know^  them 
what  they  are,  and  what  they  must  suffer  and  do 
to  enter  into  the  everlasting  fold.  And  not  only 
does  He  know  His  sheep,  but  He  "  calleth  His 
own  sheep  by  name."  By  that  new  name  which 
in  baptism  He  gave  to  them  ;  a  type  of  the  new 
name  which  He  will  one  day  give  —  the  "  name 
which  no  man  knoweth  saving  he  that  receiveth 
it."  In  this  is  expressed  the  familiar  and  inti- 
mate knowledge  He  has  of  our  most  hidden  and 
secret  condition  of  heart,  of  our  joys,  sorrows, 
losses,  desires,  fears,  and  hopes,  of  all  our  varying 
moods  of  mind,  and  all  that  makes  up  our  very 
selves.  He  knows  all  —  as  we  know  those  nearest 
and  most  beloved  —  and  far  more  deeply  and  in- 
tensely still — by  the  divine  intuition  of  His  eyes. 


I.]  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  19 

which  pierce  into  our  inmost  depths.  When  He 
says,  "  I  know  My  sheep  by  name,"  He  means, 
that  there  is  nothintj  in  them  which  He  does  not 
know ;  there  is  not  one  forgotten,  not  one  passed 
over,  as  He  telleth  them  morning  and  evening. 
His  eyes  are  upon  us  all.  And  all  the  complex 
mystery  of  our  spiritual  being,  all  our  secret  mo- 
tions of  will,  our  daily  sorrows,  fears,  and  thoughts, 
are  seen  and  read  with  the  unerring  gaze  of  our 
Divine  Lord. 

Whatsoever,  therefore,  befal  us,  let  us  say :  It 
is  He.  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  It 
is  His  rod  and  His  staff  which  smite  and  comfort 
me.  It  is  the  work  of  One  that  loves  me  above 
measure,  and  cares  for  me  with  a  sleepless  pro- 
vidence. '*  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  therefore 
can  I  lack  nothing."  This  will  convert  all  things 
into  revelations  of  His  nearness  and  of  His  com- 
l)assion.  If  it  be  disappointment,  perhaps  we  were 
too  bold  and  confident,  and  there  were  in  our 
course  pitfalls  and  death.  If  it  be  sickness,  we 
were  getting  to  be  self-trusting,  self-sufficing,  un- 
conscious of  weakness,  averse  from  liuiniliations. 
If  it  l)e  long  anxieties,  })erhiips  we  were  settling 
down  ill  this  liA;  with  too  lull  ;i  rest.  If  our  loiiL'" 
anxieties  have  shsiped  themselves  at  length  into 
the  realities  of  sorrow,  it  was  that  we  needed  this 
for  our  very  life  ;  that  nothing  less  would  work   in 


20  THE  GOOD  SHEPHERD.  [Serm.  I. 

US  His  will,  and  our  salvation ;  that  the  keen  edge 
must  come,  or  we  must  perish.  Let  us  thus  learn 
to  taste,  and  to  see  that  He  is  with  us  —  that  all 
things  which  befal  us  are  just  such  as  our  truest 
friend  would  desire  and  do  for  our  good.  They  are 
His  doincr — and  that  is  enout^h.  Let  our  heart's 
cry  be,  "  Tell  me,  O  Thou  whom  my  soul  loveth, 
where  Thou  feedest,  where  Thou  makest  Thy 
flock  to  rest  at  noon.'"  So  let  us  follow  Him  now 
"  whithersoever  He  goeth."  Be  our  path  through 
joy  or  sorrow — in  the  darkness  or  in  the  light — 
in  the  multitude  of  His  flock  or  in  a  solitary  way, 
let  us  follow  on  to  the  fold  which  is  pitched  upon 
the  everlasting  hills,  where  the  true  flock  shall 
"  pass  under  the  hand  of  Him  that  telleth  them," 
one  by  one,  till  all  the  lost  be  found,  and  all  His 
elect  come  in. 

^  Song  of  Solomon  i.  7. 


SERMON  11. 


THE  TRUE  SHEEP. 


St.  John'  x.  14. 

"  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  know  My  sheep,  and  am  kno^Ti 
of  Mine." 

Our  Lord  here  says,  that  He  and  His  sheep  know 
each  other ;  that  His  knowledge  of  them  is  one  of 
the  tokens  of  the  Good  Shepherd ;  and  that  their 
knowledge  of  Him  is  one  of  the  tokens  of  the  true 
sheep.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  He  that 
entcrcth  not  hy  the  door  into  the  sheep-fold,  hut 
climbcth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief 
and  a  robber.  But  he  that  entcreth  in  by  the  door 
is  the  shepherd  of  tlie  sheep.  To  liim  the  porter 
openeth  ;  and  the  sheep  hear  his  voice  ;  and  he 
calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name  ;  and  Icadeth 
them  out.  vVnd  wlicn  he  putt(!tli  fortli  liis  own 
sheep,  he  gocth  Ijcfore  them,  and  the  sheep  follow 
him  :  for  they  know  his  voice.  And  a  stranger 
will  tliey  not  follow,  but  will  flee  from  him :    for 


22  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

they  know  not  the  voice  of  strangers."  "  I  am 
the  Good  Shepherd,  and  know  My  sheep,  and  am 
known  of  Mine."  "But  ye  believe  not,  because 
ye  are  not  of  My  sheep,  as  I  said  unto  you.  My 
sheep  hear  My  voice,  and  I  know  them,  and  they 
follow  Me."' 

Now  what  is  this  knowledge  by  which  His  true 
sheep  are  known  ? 

There  are  many  kinds  of  knowledge,  of  which 
only  one  can  be  the  true. 

There  is  a  knowledge  which  even  fallen  angels 
have  of  Him.  St.  James  tells  us  that  "  the  devils 
believe  and  tremble."  St.  Luke,  that  the  spirit 
of  an  unclean  devil  cried  out  in  Christ's  presence 
*'  with  a  loud  voice,  saying.  Let  us  alone ;  what 
have  we  to  do  with  Thee,  Thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ? 
art  Thou  come  to  destroy  us  ?  I  know  Thee  who 
Thou  art ;  the  Holy  One  of  God ;"  and  that 
*'  devils  came  out  of  many,  crying  out,  and  saying, 
Thou  art  Christ  the  Son  of  God.  And  He  re- 
buking them  suffered  them  not  to  speak ;  for  they 
knew  that  He  was  Christ."  And  others  ag'ain 
"  cried  out,  saying,  What  have  we  to  do  with  Thee, 
Jesus,  Thou  Son  of  God?  art  Thou  come  hither 
to  torment  us  before  the  time  ?"-  This  is  a  know- 
ledge of  the  spiritual  intelligence,  which  may  be 

1  St.  John  X.  1-5,  14,  26,  27. 

2  St.  Luke  iv.  33,  34,  41  ;  St.  Matt.  viii.  29. 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  23 

possessed  in  energetic  wickedness,  and  with  direct 
resistance  of  the  will  against  the  will  of  Christ. 

Again,  there  is  also  a  knowledge  which  all  the 
regenerate  possess.  The  preaching  of  the  Church, 
the  reading  of  Holy  Scriptures,  the  public  com- 
memoration of  fasts  and  festivals,  the  tradition 
of  popular  Christianity,  and  all  the  knowledge 
which  from  childhood  we  unconsciously  imbibe, 
give  us  a  general  knowledge  of  the  evangelical 
facts  and  of  the  history  of  our  Lord.  But  besides 
and  before  all  this,  there  is  a  knowledge  which 
is  in  the  grace  of  regeneration  itself.  There  is  in 
every  living  soul,  born  again  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a 
gift  of  enlightening.  The  great  truths  and  laws 
of  God's  kingdom  are  as  a  germ  implanted  in  the 
conscience ;  latent,  indeed,  and  undeveloped,  but 
there  in  virtue  and  in  power.  For  this  cause,  bap- 
tism is  called  our  illumination.'  It  is  impossible 
to  say  what  it  may  bestow  upon  the  spiritual  capa- 
cities of  the  soul ;  what  faculties  and  perceptions, 
what  passive  and  subtil  qualities  may  be  infused 
into  us  by  our  regeneration. 

There  seems  to  be;  in  those  who  are  baptized, 
whether  holy  or  unholy,  an  iiiwaid  sense  which 
hardly  so  much  answers  to  Irutli  as  anticipates  it. 
Th(!y  know  it  almost  before  they  licar  it.  'J'liey,  as 
it  were,  forebode  it  before  it  is  declared.  As  the 
'  llcb.  X.  yj. 


24  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

whole  power  of  number  seems  by  nature  to  exist 
in  children,  needing  only  to  be  wisely  elicited  by 
questions  and  leading  thoughts  ;  so  in  those  who 
are  born  again,  the  first  axioms  and  principles  of 
truth  seem  mysteriously  impressed  by  the  grace  of 
baptism. 

The  knowledge  of  Christ,  of  His  name  and 
person,  that  He  is  the  Son  of  God,  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  born  of  the  Virgin,  crucified,  buried, 
risen,  ascended  into  heaven,  and  coming  again  to 
judge  both  the  quick  arid  the  dead,  all  these 
things  seem  as  a  sort  of  second  consciousness, 
which  men  may  sin  against,  but  cannot  get  rid  of. 
It  clings  to  them  whatsoever  they  do,  wheresoever 
they  go,  howsoever  they  deny  it.  The  worldly, 
trifling,  lightminded  ;  the  impure,  false,  and  sen- 
sual;  even  blasphemers,  scoffers,  infidels, — all  are 
held  in  a  bondage  of  consciousness,  which,  like 
the  unseen  but  all-seeing  Eye,  follows  them  every 
where.  It  pierces  them  with  fear,  and,  when  they 
sin,  turns  their  hearts  within  them  into  stone.  It 
is  this  that  makes  evil  men  so  irritable,  sullen,  reck- 
less, and  desperate.  When  they  are  most  raging 
and  vehement  against  the  truth,  it  is  because  it  is 
then  most  intensely  torturing  them.  We  often  think 
that  men  are  beyond  the  power  of  truth,  because 
they  turn  with  so  much  wrath  against  it,  defying 
and  bitterly  re\dling  it.      But    all   this   vehement 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  25 

emotion  shews  how  deep  the  barbs  have  pierced, 
and  what  a  struggle  and  convulsion  of  soul  they 
are  makino-  to  tear  out  the  truth  which  ealls  them. 
Their  anger  gives  the  lie  to  their  professed  unbe- 
lief. It  is  one  of  the  offices  of  truth  to  reveal  this 
wickedness  of  the  human  spirit ;  and  their  very 
opposition  is  a  testimony  to  the  Divine  character 
of  truth  itself.  Theirs  is  as  the  testimony  of 
the  unclean  spirits :  "  Art  Thou  come  to  torment 
us  before  the  time  ?  We  know  Thee  who  Thou 
art :  the  Holy  One  of  God."  "  This  is  the  con- 
demnation, that  light  is  come  into  the  world,  and 
men  loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their 
deeds  were  evil.  For  every  one  that  doeth  evil 
hateth  the  light,  neither  cometh  to  the  light,  lest 
his  deeds  should  be  reproved."'  It  is  Truth  do- 
ing its  work  of  just  judgment  upon  sinners.  AVhat 
some  take  as  an  evidence  against  their  regeneration 
is,  indeed,  the  proof  of  it.  Why  is  the  wickedness 
of  an  angel  worse  than  that  of  a  man  ?  Because 
he  holds  a  higher  nature  in  unrighteousness. 

It  is  this  same  passive  capacity,  kept  from 
great  perversions,  and  instructed  by  the  teach- 
ing and  worship  ol"  \]ic.  Churcli,  wliidi  makes  up 
the  knowledge  of  most  baptized  people  ;  of  such, 
I  mean,  as  live;  Christian  lives  in  llic  main  ; 
that   is   to   say,  the  great   bulk    of  lliosc    who  ;in' 

'  St.  John  iii.   19,  20. 


•2(3  THE  TRUE  SHEP:P.  [Serm. 

blameless  and  orderly  within  the  fold  of  the  visible 
Church.  It  is  a  kind  of  unenergetic  knowledge ; 
an  illumination,  which  shines  mildly,  but  truly, 
clearly  but  faintly ;  and  in  hearts  that  cast  many 
shadows  upon  themselves.  The  Christian  know- 
ledge of  such  persons  is  little  more  than  a  history 
of  moving  events,  or  a  theory  of  pure  morality,  or 
a  scheme  of  elevated  doctrine.  It  is,  so  far,  their 
guide,  their  law  of  life,  their  consolation  :  but  their 
knowledge  of  Christ  is  something  retrospective 
rather  than  present,  of  a  fact  rather  than  of  a  Per- 
son, having  a  relation  to  His  life  on  earth  rather 
than  to  His  presence  now.  The  way  in  which  most 
Christians  speak  of  Him  is  more  as  of  a  system 
than  as  of  a  Lord ;  and  His  name  stands  rather  as 
a  symbol  of  a  doctrine  than  as  a  title  of  One  that 
is  living  and  mighty  ;  whose  searching  insight  "  is 
sharper  than  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  to  the 
dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  and  of  the  joints 
and  marrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  heart."  Such  indeed  is  He  whom 
men  quote  and  speak  of  as  a  term  equivalent  with 
Christianity.  He  is  a  Divine  Person,  not  an  ab- 
stract name  :  One  to  whom  we  are  all  laid  bare ; 
*'  neither  is  there  any  creature  that  is  not  manifest 
in  His  sight ;  for  all  things  are  naked  and  opened 
unto  the  eves  of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do.'" 

1  Heb.  iv.  13. 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  2? 

This,  then,  cannot  be  the  knowledge  of  which 
the  Good  Shepherd  spoke  when  He  said,  '*  I  know 
My  sheep,  and  am  known  of  Mine."  It  must 
be  something  of  a  deeper  kind,  something  more 
living  and  personal.  It  is  plainly,  therefore,  such 
a  knowledii^e  as  He  has  of  us.  It  is  that  mutual 
consciousness  of  which  we  speak  when  we  say  that 
we  know  any  person  as  our  friend.  We  do  not 
mean  that  we  know  him  by  name  ;  for  many  stran- 
gers we  know  by  name  ;  many  whom  we  have  never 
seen,  or  further  care  to  know  :  neither  do  we  mean 
only  that  we  know  all  about  him,  that  is  to  say, 
who  he  is,  and  whence,  of  what  lineage,  or  from 
what  land,  or  what  has  been  his  history,  his  acts 
and  words,  and  the  like  ;  for  in  this  way  we  may 
be  said  to  know  many  Avho  do  not  know  us,  and 
with  whom  we  have  nothing  to  do.  AVlicn  we  say 
wc  know  any  one  as  our  friend,  we  mean  that  we 
know  not  only  who  he  is,  but  what,  or  as  wc  say, 
his  character, — that  he  is  true,  affectionate,  gentle, 
forgiving,  liberal,  patient,  selfdenying  ;  and  still 
more,  that  he  has  been,  and  is,  all  this  to  our- 
selves ;  that  we  have  made  trial  of  him,  and  have 
cause  to  know  this  character  as  a  reality,  of  wliicli 
we  have,  as  it  were,  tasted,  by  ol'Um  meeting  witli 
him,  seeing  him  at  all  times,  un<ler  all  circum- 
stances and  in  all  changes,  familiarly  conversing 
with  him,  doing  service  to  him,  ourselves  receiving 


28  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

from  him  in  turn  tokens  of  love  and  goodness.  It 
is  in  this  way  we  know  our  friends  ;  what  they  are, 
what  they  mean,  wish,  and  imply ;  how  they  would 
judge,  speak,  and  act  in  all  cases  ;  what  every  look, 
tone,  and  word  signifies.  It  is  a  knowledge,  not 
in  the  understanding  so  much  as  in  the  heart ;  in 
the  perceptions  of  feeling,  affection,  and  sympathy  ; 
by  which  we  are  drawn  towards  them  and  grow 
to  them,  love  them  ;  choose  them  out  from  all 
others,  as  our  advisers,  guides,  companions  ;  live 
with  them  and  live  for  thetti ;  trust  in  them  with  a 
feeling  that  we  are  safe  in  their  hands,  and  at  rest 
in  their  hearts  ;  that  they  love  us,  and  would  do 
any  thing  for  our  good  ;  and  though  we  be  often 
away  from  them,  and  alone,  and  at  times  seldom 
see  them,  yet  we  are  as  if  always  with  them  — 
always  happy  in  the  thought  of  them,  knowing 
that  they  are  always  the  same  to  us,  and  knowing, 
besides,  both  where  and  how  we  shall  find  them 
if  we  desire  or  need.  This  is  the  knowledge  of 
friendship  and  of  love.  It  is  something  living  and 
personal,  arising  out  of  the  whole  of  our  inward 
nature,  and  filling  all  our  powers  and  affections. 

And  such  is  the  knowledge  the  true  sheep  have 
of  the  Good  Shepherd.  "  I  know  My  sheep,  and 
am  known  of  Mine."  As  He  knows  us,  through 
and  through,  —  all  that  we  have  been  and  are,  all 
that  we  desire   and  need,  hope  and  fear,  do  and 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  29 

leave  undone,  all  our  thoughts,  affections,  purposes, 
all  our  secret  acts,  all  our  hidden  life,  which  is 
hid  with  Him  in  God  :  so  do  His  true  sheep  know 
Him, — His  love,  care,  tenderness,  mercy,  meekness, 
compassion,  patience,  gentleness,  all  His  forecast- 
ing and  prudent  watchfulness,  His  indulgent  and 
pitiful  condescension.  They  have  learned  it  by  the 
grace  of  regeneration,  by  the  illumination  of  their 
spiritual  birth,  by  the  light  of  His  holy  Gospels, 
by  acts  of  contemplation,  by  direct  approach  to 
Him  in  prayer,  by  ineffable  communion  in  the  holy 
Eucharist,  by  His  particular  and  detailed  guid- 
ance, by  His  providential  discipline  from  child- 
liood  all  along  the  path  of  life.  It  is  the  know- 
ledge of  heart  with  heart,  soul  with  soul,  spirit  with 
spirit ;  a  sense  of  presence  and  companionship : 
so  that  when  most  alone,  we  arc  perceptibly  least 
alone  ;  when  most  solitary,  we  are  least  forsaken. 
It  is  a  consciousness  of  guidance,  help,  and  pro- 
tection ;  so  that  all  we  do  or  say,  and  all  that  be- 
fals  us,  is  shared  with  Him.  It  fills  us  witli  a 
certainty  that  in  every  part  ol'  our  lot,  in  all  its  de- 
tails, there  is  some  purpose,  some  indicMtiou  of  His 
design  nnd  will,  some  discipline;  or  medicine  lor 
us;  some  hid  treasure,  iCwc  will  purcliiisc  it  ;  sonu; 
secret  of  peace,  if  we  will  only  make;  it  our  own. 

Now  if  this  be  the  knowledge  which  His  sheep 
have   of  Him,  it  is  plnin  that  a  great  ]);irt   of  bap- 


30  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

tized  men  do  not  so  know  Christ.  The  multitude 
of  the  visible  Church  live  in  the  world  forgetful 
both  of  Fold  and  Shepherd  :  remembering  them 
only  in  direct  acts  of  religion,  which  are  short  and 
few,  in  the  midst  of  a  busy  earthly  life  of  buying 
and  selling,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  trad- 
ing and  toiling  late  and  early.  With  the  very  best 
among  us,  how  sadly  true  is  this.  Who  is  not 
backward  in  this  one  science  which  only  it  is  need- 
ful for  us  to  know  ?  It  is  much  to  be  feared  that 
some  persons,  of  seeming  devotion,  live  on  very 
strange  to  Him,  and  far  off,  knowing  Him  rather 
in  the  understanding  and  imagination,  rather  pic- 
turing Him  upon  their  fancy  in  the  garb  and  para- 
ble of  the  Good  Shepherd,  than  realising  with  any 
true  and  vivid  spiritual  consciousness  the  truth 
and  blessedness  of  His  pastoral  love  and  care. 

Let  us,  then,  consider  in  what  way  we  may 
attain  this  knowledge,  which  is  not  of  the  under- 
standing, but  of  the  heart ;  not  of  the  mere  intel- 
lect, but  in  the  consciousness  of  the  soul. 

1.  First,  it  must  be  by  following  Him.  "My 
sheep  hear  My  voice,  and  they  follow  Me."  By 
living  such  a  life  as  He  lived.  Likeness  to  Him 
is  the  power  of  knowing  Him.  Nay,  rather  it  is 
knowledfife  itself :  there  is  no  other.  It  cannot 
be  by  the  knowledge  of  eye,  or  ear,  nor  by  the 
knowledge  of  imagination  or  thoughts,  but  by  the 


11.] 


THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  31 


knowledge  of  the  will,  and  of  the  spiritual  reason 
instructed  by  the    experience    of  faith.      It  is  by 
likeness  that  we  know,  and  by  sympathy  that  we 
learn.     "  Hereby  we  do  know  that  we  know  Him, 
if  we  keep  His  commandments.     He  that  saith,  I 
know  Him,  and  keepeth  not  His  commandments, 
is  a  liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  him.     But  whoso 
keepeth  His  word,  in  Him  verily  is  the  love  of  God 
perfected  :  hereby  know  we  that  we  are  in  Him. 
He  that  saith   he   ahideth  in  Him   ought  himself 
also  so  to  walk  even  as  He  walked."     "  If  we  say 
that  we  have  fellowship  with  Him,  and  walk  in  dnrk- 
ness,  we  lie,  and  do  not  the  truth.'"     What  fellow- 
ship can  an  impure  soul  have  with  One  Who  knew 
no  sin :  or  the  self-indulgent  with  the  Crucified  : 
or  the  vain  with  Him  that  "made  Himself  of  no 
reputation  :"  or  a  mind  that  is  bounded  about  by 
this  world,  and  content  to  move  within  its  narrow 
sphere,  in  an   aimless  life  of  levities   and  follies, 
with  Him  who  came  into  this  world  for  one  end 
alone,  *'  that  He  might  bring  us  unto  God  ?"    Such 
as  these  can  have  no  fellowship  with  Christ ;  nnd  if 
no  fellowship,  then  nr»  knowledge,  which   comes  by 
sympathy,  by  partaking  of  His  S})irit  and  of  His 
life.     We  may  read,  study,  toil,  write,  talk,  ])rc;icli, 
and    make;    discourses    wliicli    will    illmiiiii;itc,    iiiid 
move  others  to  tears,  wliih;  we  ourselves  are  cold 

1  St.  Joliii  ii.  .3-0;   i.  G 


32  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

and  (lark.  So  too,  we  may  profess  and  pray,  with 
our  lips  ;  be  strict  and  regular  in  the  ordinary 
works  and  offices  of  religion  :  and  all  in  vain,  so 
long  as  our  hearts  and  spiritual  life  are  out  of  sym- 
pathy with  His.  How"  strange  and  perverse  we  are. 
That  which  is  plainest  to  learn,  w^e  put  off  to  the 
last ;  that  which  needs  most  grace  to  know,  we 
take  for  our  alphabet.  How  long  shall  we  go  on 
professing  to  judge  of  His  doctrine,  before  we  have 
be^'un  to  learn  the  imitation  of  His  life  ?  Surelv 
the  plainest  and  first  lesson  is,  to  follow  His  steps. 
This  is  the  first  work  of  our  probation,  the  first 
condition  of  His  guidance.  If  we  would  only  take 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  read  it,  not  as  the 
world  has  paraphrased  it,  but  as  He  spoke  it ;  if  Ave 
would  only  fulfil  it,  not  as  men  dispense  with  it,  but 
as  He  lived  it  upon  earth  ;  w^e  should  begin  to  know 
somewhat  of  those  deeper  perceptions  of  His  love, 
tenderness,  and  compassion,  which  are  the  peace  of 
His  elect.  Such  obedience  has  a  searching  and 
powerful  virtue  to  quicken  and  make  keen  the 
faculties  of  our  conscience.  And  it  would  change 
our  whole  view  of  the  Christian  life,  from  a  solitary 
observance  of  an  abstract  rule  of  duty,  into  an  abid- 
ing relation  towards  a  personal  and  living  Master. 
It  would  make  men  to  feel  that  not  only  the  general 
and  confused  sum  of  life  shall,  in  the  end  of  time, 
be  brought  into  judgment,  but  that  every  deed  and 


11.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  33 

thought,  every  motive  of  the  heart  and  inclination 
of  the  will,  are  full  of  pregnant  meaning ;  of  obe- 
dience or  of  disobedience,  of  loyalty  or  betrayal, 
to  the  person  of  our  Lord  :  that  our  every-day  life 
is  either  in  the  track  of  His  footsteps,  or  gone 
astray  from  the  one  only  path  that  leadeth  unto 
life.  This  is  the  first  step  to  a  true  knowledge  of 
Christ. 

2.  And,  further  than  this  :  there  are  peculiar 
faculties  of  the  heart  which  must  be  awakened,  if 
we  would  know  Him  as  He  knows  us.     There  can 
be  no  true  obedience  without  the  discipline  of  habi- 
tual devotion.     By  this  is  signified  something  far 
deeper  than    the  habits  of  prayer  which  we  com- 
monly maintain.     As  obedience  to  Christ  impresses 
us  with  a  sense  of  His  personality,  so  devotion  awa- 
kens a  perception  of  His  presence.     And  how  easy 
it  is  to  pray  for  years  with  little  or  no  sense  of  His 
nearness — with  a  dim,  cold  syllogism  of  the  necessary 
presence  of  One  that  must  be  here,  because  He  is 
God,  for  God  is  everywhere — we  all  unhappily  know. 
Half  our    difficulties  in  prayer,  half  the  irksome- 
ness  of  the  act,  the  wearisomcness  of  the  posture, 
the  wandering  of  our  hearts,  the  distraction  of  our 
thoughts,  may  be  traced   to  this  one  great  lack, — 
the  lack   of  a  deep   consciousness  of  His  personal 
presence.     And  thcrcfon;  it  is  our  ])rayers  gain  (or 
us  so  little  light,  so  faint  an  insight  into  His  miiid 

VOL.   III.  D 


34  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm. 

and  perfection,  so  clouded  a  knowledge  of  His  love 
and  will  towards  us.  If  we  truly  knew  Him,  we 
should  delight  to  speak  with  Him,  to  linger  and 
dwell  in  His  presence.  We  should  go  from  our 
prayers  with  the  slow  hearts  we  now  bring  to  them. 
How  should  we  lay  up  all  day  long  our  thoughts, 
cares,  forebodings,  to  lighten  our  hearts  at  night 
bv  pouring  them  out  before  Him.  We  should  then 
somewhat  understand  the  words,  "  Casting  all  your 
care  upon  Him,  for  He  careth  for  you."  And  this 
would  open  to  us  the  words  of  Holy  Scripture, 
which  to  most  are  so  remote,  involved,  and  per- 
plexing. Perhaps  there  is  no  book  that  is  so  much 
read  and  so  little  really  understood,  because  so 
little  dwelt  upon.  And  why,  but  because  medi- 
tation implies  the  intensity  and  affection  of  a 
devout  mind  ?  Prayer  and  meditation  are  so 
nearly  one,  that  we  may  pass  and  repass  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  almost  without  perceptible 
transition.  Not  that  they  are  indeed  one  and  the 
same :  but  meditation  is  the  food  of  prayer,  and 
prayer  is  the  life  of  meditation,  and  they  are  there- 
fore inseparable.  It  is  for  want  of  these  deeper 
and  more  stedfast  thoughts  that  we  go  on  through 
life  reading  Holy  Scripture  without  piercing  be- 
neath the  letter.  And  this  cursory  and  superficial 
habit  of  mind  keeps  up  our  insensibility  of  the  pre- 
sence of  Christ. 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  35 

Moreover,  it  is  the  same  unimpressed  and  un- 
awakened  temper  of  heart  that  leads  men  to  live  on 
in  habitual  neo-lect  of  the  holy  Sacrament  of  Ilis 
Body  and  Blood.  They  have  no  sense  of  hunger 
and  thirst,  no  consciousness  of  any  inward  craving, 
no  need  felt  of  sustenance,  no  perception  of  the  con- 
straining love  of  Him  who,  in  the  night  of  His  be- 
trayal, left  that  command  to  prove  the  faith  and  love 
of  His  Church  for  ever.  Now  a  Christian,  in  this 
torpid  unawakened  state,  cannot  know  Him  with 
the  knowledge  of  His  true  sheep.  There  is  some- 
thing which  deadens  and  stifles  the  spiritual  af- 
fections. Cold  devotions  will  make  a  man's  heart 
dark.  Let  him  profess  what  he  will,  let  him  in 
the  intellect  know  wliat  he  may,  into  the  true  know- 
ledge which  comes  by  love  and  likeness  to  Christ 
he  cannot  enter.  A  life  of  devotion,  that  is,  of  fre- 
quent and  ferv(Mit  worship  of  our  Divine  Lord,  so 
awakens  and  kindles  the  whole  inward  heart,  that 
there  is  nothing  more  real  and  blissful  to  a  Chris- 
tian than  to  escape  from  all  the  world  into  the 
presence  of  the  only  and  true  Shepherd.  And 
this  is  tested  nbove  nil  in  the  mystery  of  the  holy 
('oimimiiioii.  Tbe  eves  of  manv  ;ire,  bv  tlwir  own 
want  of  insight,  long  lioldoi  so  ;is  not  to  know 
ilim,  until  lb;  nuikcs  Iliinsclf  known  in  lli«; 
l)rcaking  of  bn^id.  Even  thoufrh  all  alon<r  tlieir 
intellect    hnvo     been     opcnod     to     uiulrrstMiid     ibe 


S6  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Skrm. 

Scriptures,  there  is  a  knowledge  still  higher,  still 
more  personal  and  intimate,  which  they  cannot 
have  till  He  manifests  Himself  in  that  blessed 
Sacrament.  There  is  a  marked  and  visible  dis- 
tinction between  those  who  know  Him  by  the  in- 
tellect, and  those  who  know  Him  by  the  heart ; 
those  who  have  sought  to  know  Him  by  mere 
readinof,  and  those  who  have  sought  to  know  Him 
by  communion.  The  holy  Eucharist  is  the  very 
life-bread  of  His  true  servants.  It  is  their  very 
Gospel,  not  written  with  pen  and  ink,  but  by  a 
pierced  hand,  and  in  the  blood  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd. There  even  the  unlettered  Christian,  the 
weakest  of  His  flock,  learns  what  doctors  in  the 
temple  neither  teach  nor  know.  A  life  of  devout 
and  frequent  communion  is  the  true  and  infallible 
way  to  a  personal  knowledge  and  experience  of 
His  love.  What  things  He  may  make  known  to 
us  in  that  holy  mystery,  each  will  understand. 
They  are  not  to  be  spoken  or  known  by  hearsay. 
But  He  has  promised  an  ineffable  fellowship  to 
them  that  devoutly  open  their  hearts  to  receive 
His  visitation.  *'  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and 
knock  :  if  any  man  hear  My  voice,  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him, 
and  he  with  Me."^ 

3.  And  lastl}^  this  true  knowledge  of  Him  is  not 

'  Rev.  iii.  20. 


II.]  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  37 

a  transitory  state  of  feelinof.  Out  of  obedience  and 
devotion  arises  an  habitual  faith,  which  makes 
Him,  though  unseen,  yet  perceptibly  a  part  of 
all  our  life.  Without  this  we  shall  but  run  great 
risks  of  deceivinof  ourselves.  This  strono-  and  sus- 
tained  consciousness  of  His  presence  makes  all 
things  within  the  veil  more  real  than  those  we  see. 
The  Unseen  Head  of  the  Church  living  and  glo- 
rified ;  the  mystical  body  knit  in  one  by  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  the  Good  Shepherd  tending  His  one  fold 
on  the  everlasting  hills  ;  the  familiar  image  of  His 
loving  countenance;  —  all  these,  all  day  long,  in 
the  midst  of  work  and  in  their  hour  of  rest,  at 
home  and  abroad,  among  men  or  in  solitude,  are 
spread  before  the  sight  of  hearts  that  know  Him 
by  love. 

Let  us  then  seek,  in  this  way,  so  to  know  Him. 
He  will  guide  us  in  a  sure  path,  though  it  be  a 
rough  c)ne  :  though  shadows  hang  upon  it,  yet  He 
will  be  with  us.  If  we  be  His  true  flock,  we 
shall  lack  nothinu;-.  He  will  bring  us  home  at 
last.  Through  much  trial  it  may  be,  and  weari- 
ness, in  much  fear  and  fainting  of  heart,  in  much 
sadness  and  loneliness,  in  griefs  tliat  the  world 
nev(;r  knows,  and  under  bunlois  lliat  tlie  niNirest 
never  suspect.  Yet  \\(\  will  sufiice  for  ;ill.  l>y 
His  eye  or  by  His  voice  He  will  guide  us,  if 
we    be    docile   and    gentle ;    by   His    staff"  and   l)y 


38  THE  TRUE  SHEEP.  [Serm.  II. 

Plis  rod,  if  we  wander  or  are  wilful :  any  how, 
and  by  all  means,  He  will  bring  us  to  His  rest. 
Not  one  shall  perish,  except  we  be  stedfastly 
bent  upon  our  own  perdition.  Blessed  are  they 
who  so  know  Plim.  They  alone  are  truly  happy ; 
they  alone  have  that  which  will  fill  all  hearts, 
stay  all  desires,  and  make  even  the  broken  spirit 
to  be  glad.  He  is  enough :  even  *'  a  strength  to 
the  poor,  a  strength  to  the  needy  in  his  distress, 
a  refuge  from  the  storm,  a  shadow  from  the  heat, 
when  the  blast  of  the  terrible  ones  is  as  a  storm 
against  the  wall."  He  is  "  a  hiding-place  from  the 
wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest ;  as  rivers  of 
water  in  a  dry  place,  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock 
in  a  weary  land.'"  Who  is  parched  and  wearied 
bv  the  fflare  and  drouo^ht  of  this  dazzling-  and  dan- 
gerous  world?  "  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  are 
weary  and  heavy-laden,  and  I  will  refresh  you." 
Say :  Even  so,  Lord,  make  me  to  know  Thee.  It 
is  the  unreasonableness,  the  wilfulness,  the  self- 
love  of  my  heart,  that  will  not  know  Thee.  Take 
away  all  these,  which  hide  Thee  from.  me.  The 
veil  is  not  upon  Thy  Face,  but  upon  my  heart. 
"  Lord,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight."  For 
"  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee  ?  and  there 
is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  Thee." 

^  Isaiah  xxv.  4  ;  xxxii.  2. 


SERMON  III. 


THE  GREAT  MOTIVE. 


CoLOssiANS  iii.  17. 

"  Whatsoever  ye  do  in  word  or  deed,  do  all  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Jesus." 

This  great  command  is  here  given  between  some 
of  the  highest,  and  some  of  the  homeliest  duties 
of  the  Christian  life.  St.  Paul,  a  little  before,  has 
said,  "  If  ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those 
things  which  are  above."  lie  then  presses  upon 
the  Colossians  the  great  mysteries  of  the  resur- 
rection and  ascension  of  our  Lord,  as  incitements 
to  a  holy  life.  He  bids  them  live  as  men  dead 
to  tlie  world,  living  in  and  to  God  alone,  in  mor- 
tification, purity,  devotion,  and  peace.  After  these 
high  counsels  of  saintliness,  he  gives  a  series  of 
minute  and  homely  })reee])ls  to  wives  and  liiis- 
bands,  parents  and  children,  and  servants  and 
masters :  and  then,  between  these  two  bninclies 
of  his  exhortation,  he  says,  "  Whatsoever  ye  do  in 


40  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Serm. 

word  or  deed,  do  all  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus ;" 
shewing"  us  that  all  duties  are  sacred,  and  that  none 
are  too  little  to  be  done  for  Christ's  sake. 

Now  in  these  words  St.  Paul  gives  us  the  great 
motive  of  Christian  obedience. 

When  God  in  the  beginning  created  man  in 
His  own  image,  the  aim  or  motive  of  his  obedience 
was  God ;  His  will,  bliss  and  glory.  After  the 
fall,  by  perversion,  it  became,  in  manifold  shapes, 
his  own  self;  self-pleasing,  self-indulgence,  and  self- 
worship.  This  was  the  true  fall  of  mankind.  The 
Divine  law  of  order  was  lost,  and  man's  spiritual 
being  was  confounded  by  the  turbulence  of  his 
own  fallen  nature.  It  had  no  law,  or  supreme 
control,  and  so  became  its  own  bondaije  and  affile- 
tion.  This  has  been  the  source  of  all  sin  and 
sorrow  to  mankind.  His  nature  had  lost  its  key- 
stone, and  fell  into  a  ruin.  It  was  this  great 
want  of  a  governing  law  or  motive  which  was  again 
filled  up  by  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  The  true  prin- 
ciple, or  moving  cause,  of  all  obedience  in  man 
is  the  Name  of  Christ.  And  this  is  what  St. 
Paul  implies  in  these  words.  Let  us,  then,  see 
what  this  precept  means — to  do  all  in  the  name 
of  Christ. 

First,  it  means,  to  do  all  things  for  His  sake ; 
and  that  because,  by  the  redemption  of  the  world, 
we  have  passed  into  His  possession.     We  are  no 


III.]  THE  GREAT   MOTIVE.  41 

longer  our  own,  but  His.  We  were  dead  ;  He 
has  made  us  to  live  aoain  :  we  were  condemned, 
He  has  blotted  out  the  doom  that  was  against  us  : 
we  were  under  the  powers  of  sin,  and  He  has  set 
us  free.  Not  only  are  all  gifts  from  Him,  but 
we  ourselves  have  the  very  gift  of  our  new  and 
spiritual  life  through  His  incarnation  and  His 
atonement  on  the  cross.  Therefore  St.  Paul  says 
in  another  place,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth 
us  ;  because  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for 
all,  then  were  all  dead"  (that  is,  all  died  with 
Him) :  "  and  that  He  died  for  all,  that  they  which 
live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves, 
but  unto  Him  which  died  for  them,  and  rose 
again.'"  "  Ye  are  not  your  own,  for  ye  arc  bought 
with  a  price  ;  wherefore  glorify  God  in  your  body, 
and  in  your  spirit,  which  are  God's."'  And  again, 
"  Ye  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's."' 

But,  further,  to  do  all  in  His  name,  means  to 
do  all  in  His  sight.  When  He  was  u})on  earth, 
His  apostles  saw  and  conversed  with  Him.  They 
went  in  and  out  at  His  bidding.  All  they  did 
and  said  was  as  in  His  presence,  Jiiid  in  His 
hearing.  Whether  they  were  with  Him  in  ihe 
mountain  or  on  the  sen,  by  the  wnyside  or  in 
the  Temple,  He  saw  all  and  knew  all.  Mveii 
the  words  they  spoke  among  themselves  in  secret, 

1  2  Cor.  V.  14,  15.  ^  \  Cor.  vi.  20.  •'  1  Cor.  iii.  2:3. 


42  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Serm. 

and  the  thoughts  that  arose,  as  they  journeyed,  in 
their  hearts, — all  was  manifest  to  Him.  So  it  was 
before  He  suffered.  After  He  rose  from  the  dead, 
still  more.  In  those  forty  days  of  mysterious  abid- 
ing upon  earth,  whether  seen  or  no,  He  watched 
all  their  wa^s,  noted  every  thought.  They  were 
under  His  penetrating  gaze  while  they  communed 
of  Him  and  of  His  departure ;  while  they  toiled 
all  night  upon  the  sea  of  Galilee :  or  wondered 
among  themselves  when  He  should  reveal  Himself 
again.  And  not  less — nay;  even  more — when  He 
went  up  into  heaven,  after  He  had  sent  them 
forth  into  all  the  earth,  and  said,  "  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  He 
sent  them  into  all  lands,  and  He  went  with  them 
unseen.  In  market-places  and  before  councils,  in 
prisons  and  in  travel,  in  the  desert  and  on  the  deep, 
He  was  always  near.  And  His  presence  has  abode 
with  their  lineal  successors  even  to  this  hour. 
This  high  promise  stands  sure.  His  invisible  fel- 
lowship is  with  us  still,  not  less  than  with  them. 
What  is  the  Church,  but  the  presence  of  Christ, 
and  the  company  of  the  apostles,  drawn  out  unto 
the  world's  end  ?  What  is  the  visible  Church, 
but  the  very  fellowship  of  the  eleven  who  were 
gathered  in  the  upper  chamber,  then  personal  and 
local,  now  universal  and  perpetual?  With  Him 
time  is  not.     He  reigns  in  time,  but  His  presence 


TIL]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  43 

is  neither  past  nor  to  come,  but  now  and  always : 
seen  and  unseen  is  nothing  in  Christ's  kingdom  ; 
visibleness  is  but  an  accident.  He  sees  us  here 
and  now,  as  He  saw  them  at  Emmaus,  or  on  the 
mountain  of  ascension.  All  our  whole  life  bears 
the  same  relation  to  Him  as  theirs  ;  and  ought, 
therefore,  to  be  governed  by  the  same  abiding- 
consciousness.  Wheresoever  we  be,  whatsoever  we 
are  doing,  in  all  our  work,  in  our  busy  daily  life, 
in  all  schemes  and  undertakings,  in  public  trusts, 
and  in  private  retreats.  He  is  with  us,  and  all  we 
do  is  spread  before  Him.  Do  it,  then,  as  to  the 
Lord.  Let  the  thought  of  His  eye  unseen  be 
the  motive  of  your  acts  and  words.  Do  nothing 
you  would  not  have  Him  see.  Say  nothing  which 
you  would  not  have  said  before  His  visible  pre- 
sence.    This,  again,  is  to  do  all  in  His  name. 

And,  once  more,  to  do  all  in  Christ's  name, 
means,  further,  to  do  all  as  a  witness  for  Him. 

This  was  the  commission  of  the  apostles.  He 
l)adc  them  tarry  in  Jerusalem  till  they  had  received 
power  from  on  high  ;  and  then,  He  said,  "  Ye 
shall  be  witnesses  unto  me,  both  in  Jerusalem, 
and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto  the 
uttermost  part  of  tlie  earth.'"  "  And  ye  arc  wit- 
nesses of  these  things  ;"^  that  is,  of  His  incarna- 
tion,  teaching,   and   miracles,   of  His   passion   and 

'  Acts  i.  8.  2  t;t_  i^ui^e  xxiv.  48. 


44  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Skrm. 

resurrection,  of  His  mysteries  and  sacraments,  of 
His  ascension  and  perpetual  presence,  of  the  whole 
invisible  kingdom  of  their  exalted  Head.  This 
was  the  witness  of  the  apostles.  And  they  bare 
it  by  their  preaching  and  suffering,  but  chiefly  by 
their  purity  of  life.  He  that  overcame  sin  and 
death,  when  He  went  up  on  high,  endowed  them 
with  His  own  power  to  overcome  death  and  sin. 
"  I  appoint  unto  you  a  kingdom,  as  My  Father 
hath  appointed  unto  Me.'"  "  All  power  is  given 
unto  Me,  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  Go  ye,  there- 
fore."^ The  whole  apostolic  ministry — the  found- 
ing and  expansion  of  the  Church  throughout  the 
world — its  resistless  might  against  all  opposition 
— its  universal  mastery,  overthrowing  altars,  tem- 
ples, legions,  kingdoms,  and  whatsoever  reared 
itself  against  the  cross,  —  all  this  was  a  visible 
witness  for  Christ.  It  proved  that  they  were 
the  living  members  of  a  living  Head ;  that  in 
them  He  was  still  ever  going  forth  with  the 
armies  of  heaven,  conquering,  and  to  conquer. 
They  were  the  witnesses  of  the  true  and  only 
King,  who  reigns,  conquers,  and  governs  in  hea- 
ven and  in  earth.  And  this  is  our  work  and 
trial  now.  There  are,  at  this  very  hour,  two  king- 
doms in  presence  of  each  other.  The  world  is 
still  divided  between  the  kingdom  of  Christ  and 

1  St.  Luke  xxii.  29.  -  St.  Matt,  xxviii.  18,  19. 


III.]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  45 

the  kino-dom  of  antichrist.  For  one  or  for  the 
other,  every  man  must  be.  These  two  kingdoms 
have  their  standards,  powers,  and  tribunals.  The 
one,  loud,  pompous,  and  majestic,  gorgeous  in  its 
apparel  and  in  the  pageantry  of  its  strength.  In 
its  train  are  pleasures,  honours,  decorations,  high 
estate,  refinement,  luxury,  and  splendour.  This 
is  the  kingdom  of  the  world,  and  its  glory.  The 
other  is  lowly  and  despised — its  ensign  a  cross, 
and  its  crown  a  wreath  of  thorns  ;  in  its  retinue 
are  the  poor  and  slighted — its  badges  are  sor- 
rows, stigmas,  and  wrongs.  It  has  no  splendour 
of  outward  array — no  legions  but  the  army  of 
martyrs — no  throne  but  one  that  is  set  in  hea- 
ven. Between  these  you  must  make  your  choice  ; 
and  yet  your  choice  is  already  foregone  and  past. 
It  was  made  for  vou  in  vour  baptism.  You  are 
set  here  to  witness — by  the  confession  of  your 
baptismal  faith,  in  word  and  deed — by  acts  of 
visible  worship,  especially  in  the  sacrament  of  Ilis 
death  and  passion  —  by  visible  purity  of  heart  —  by 
a  life  like  His  —  by  His  light  shining  in  you  and 
from  you,  overcoming  the  world,  be  it  in  the  high- 
est or  the  lowest  ])aths  of  life,  in  tlic  homeliest 
and  the  simplest  duties  of  every  day.  N(me  are 
too  humble,  or  too  weak,  to  witness  for  tlic  IIolv 
Name.  In  tin;  rrusli  and  struggle  of  the  \\(irl(l, 
you    are   c)n   tri;il    at   every    turn  ;   and    \(>nr   trulli, 


4<6  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Serm. 

loyalty,  and  faith,  are  being  always  proved.  A 
thousand  tests  touch  you  on  every  side  :  even  in 
the  still  measured  round  of  domestic  life,  in  the 
home  duties  of  parents,  children,  and  brethren,  if 
your  motive  is  His  name,  and  your  law  is  His 
example,  if  your  life  be  pure  and  gentle,  it  bears 
all  day  long  a  clear-toned  witness  for  your  Lord. 

This,  then,  is  to  do  all  in  His  name  ; — to  do 
all  for  His  sake,  in  His  sight,  and  in  witness  for 
His  person  and  His  kingdom.  But  who  can  hear 
it  without  tremblino;  ?  If  this  be  our  callinsf, 
what  must  be  our  judgment?  Our  election  is 
fearful  and  blessed  :  to  live  for  His  name  in 
Whose  blood  alone  we  can  wash  our  sins,  our 
prayers,  and  our  repentance. 

Let  us  try,  as  best  we  may,  to  lay  this  great 
truth  to  heart,  bv  dwellinof  on  some  direct  and 
practical  inferences  from  it,  bearing  upon  our  daily 
life.     It  shews  us,  then  : 

1.  First,  that  sin  in  a  Christian  is  a  plain  denial 
of  Christ.  It  denies  His  name  more  emphatically 
than  to  say,  "I  know  not  the  man."  In  early 
times,  when  the  Church  was  under  heathen  per- 
secution. Christians  were  required  by  the  enemies 
of  Christ  to  deliver  up  their  sacred  vessels,  the 
paten  and  the  chalice  of  the  holy  Eucharist,  and 
the  volumes  of  Holy  Scripture.  By  giving  up 
these  consecrated  trusts,  they  might  make  an  easy 


II.]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  47 

purchase  of  life  ;  and,  more  than  this,  they  were 
led  to  the  lighted  altars  of  Pagan  worship,  and 
if  they  would  so  much  as  cast  a  grain  of  incense 
upon  the  glowing  embers,  they  were  set  free.  But 
these  light  acts  were  pregnant  with  an  intense 
meaning.  They  were  implicit  denials  of  the  name 
of  Christ,  constructive  treason  against  the  kingdom 
of  the  Son  of  God.  His  true  servants  rather  died 
than  deny  Him  by  so  much  as  this  silent  homage 
to  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  by  the  slightest  am- 
biguous motion  of  hands  or  lips.  Such  is  our 
probation  now.  The  least  acts  of  sin  are  louder 
than  the  loudest  recital  of  the  faith.  One  such 
act  drowns  all  our  confessions  and  creeds.  They 
make  themselves  heard  above  all  our  specious  and 
weak  words  of  religious  intention.  One  sin  of 
sensuality,  pride,  falsehood,  or  malignity,  deliber- 
ately conceived,  consciously  put  in  act,  is  an  overt 
and  high  rebellion.  For  what  is  it  but  to  take 
the  side  of  antichrist,  in  the  warfare  between 
heaven  and  earth  —  to  swell  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, and  to  lift  up  our  weapons  among  the  banners 
of  the  evil  one  ?  Sometimes  the  greatest  secret 
treachery  is  found  under  a  religious  clo.ik,  as  in 
schism  for  spurious  charity  and  lax  indulgence  of 
other  men's  sins.  IJut  howsoever  concealed,  it  is 
only  an  illusion  of  Satan,  Sometimes  it  is  by  a 
temper  rontrarv  to  this.      Tnsubordin;ition,   un<lia- 


48  THE   GREAT  AIOTIVE.  [Serm. 

ritableness,  a  bitter  spirit,  selfish  insensibility  of 
the  spiritual  dangers  of  those  for  whom  Christ 
died,  these  again  are  so  many  denials  of  His  name. 
What  will  it  avail  at  that  day  to  say,  "Lord, 
Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in  Thy  name  :  and 
in  Thy  name  have  cast  out  devils,  and  in  Thy  name 
done  many  wonderful  works?'"  "We  have  eaten 
and  drunk  in  Thy  presence,  and  Thou  hast  taught 
in  our  streets.  But  He  shall  say,  I  tell  you  I  know 
you  not."- 

2.  And  another  truth  fallowing  from  the  last,  is, 
that  worldliness  is  a  suppressed  contradiction  and 
secret  betrayal  of  Christ.  "  He  gave  Himself  for 
our  sins,  that  He  might  deliver  us  from  this  pre- 
sent evil  world."^  "The  friendship  of  the  world 
is  enmity  with  God."*  We  "  cannot  serve  two 
masters ;"  we  cannot  be  a  link  between  two  spi- 
ritual opposites.  There  is  no  neutrality  between 
the  world  and  God.  God  is  the  eternal  fountain 
of  truth,  purity,  and  peace.  The  world  without 
God  is  false,  impure,  and  turbulent ;  a  mighty 
heaving  confusion  of  fallen  spirits  wrestling  with 
each  other  and  with  God.  As  such  the  world  is 
in  eternal  opposition  to  Him.  It  can  only  be 
reconciled  by  passing  out  of  itself  into  His  kino-. 
dom  ;  by  receiving  the  laws  of  truth  and  obedience, 

1  St.  Matt.  vii.  22.  2  gt.  Luke  xiii.  26,  27. 

3  Gal.  i.  4.  ^  James  iv.  4. 


III.]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  49 

of  holiness  and  order,  that  is,  in  ceasing  to  be  the 
world,  and  being  taken  up  into  the  will  of  God. 
Besides  the  grosser  kinds  of  sensual  and  spiritual 
evil,  this  world  has  a  multitude  of  refined  and 
subtil  powers  of  enmity  against  the  Divine  will. 
There  is,  besides  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  also  the  lust 
of  the  eyes ;  the  vain-glory,  pomp,  glitter,  osten- 
tation of  ease,  luxury,  and  self-pleasing  ;  and  there 
is,  moreover,  the  pride  of  life,  the  stately  self- 
worship,  the  fastidious  self-contemplation  of  in- 
tellectual or  secular  men.  And  with  this  comes 
also  a  throng  of  less  elevated  sins,  —  levity,  love  of 
pleasure,  full  fare,  a  thirst  for  money,  a  hunger 
for  popularity,  and  its  debasing  successes.  These 
things  steal  away  the  heart,  and  make  men  false 
to  their  Heavenly  Master.  Their  obedience  be- 
comes habitually  double,  vain -glorious,  self-ad- 
vancing ;  or  heartless,  hollow,  and  reluctant.  If 
thcv  do  not  by  express  acts  betray  Him,  it  is 
either  becau;^e  they  are  not  tempted,  or  because 
they  would  lose  in  the  scale  of  the  world's  esteem 
or  in  their  own.  Surely  there  must  be  something 
highly  incensing  to  our  Heavenly  Master  in  such 
earthly  hearts,  all  fair  outside,  but  eaten  out  by 
the  world  even  to  the  roro. 

3.  Let  us,  then,  lenrn  farther,  that  obedience 
in  His  name,  for  His  sake,  and  in  His  sight,  is  the 
only  obedience  which  is  stedfast  and  persevering. 

VOL.   III.  E 


50  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Sekm. 

It  is  the  only  obedience  that  is  sincere.  No 
other  obedience  sprin^^s  from  the  heart.  This  is 
a  principle  not  to  be  swayed  by  custom  or  repu- 
tation, or  by  the  maxims  and  eyes  of  men.  It  is 
always  the  same,  in  every  place,  season,  and  state. 
All  other  motives  change  with  our  outward  cir- 
cumstances, with  the  judgments,  tone,  wishes, 
suggestions  of  those  about  us.  But  this  is  in- 
ternal, self-supported,  and  unchangeable.  And  as 
it  never  changes,  so  it  is  ever  gaining  strength, 
ever  advancing,  uniting  the  whole  power  of  the 
mind  in  one  aim  and  force,  bindino-  all  the  affec- 
tions  of  the  heart  about  the  conscience  and  the 
will,  ever  growing  in  self-command,  in  the  pure 
happiness  of  conscious  sincerity,  and  in  the  sen- 
sitive discernment  of  a  tender  conscience. 

In  such  a  character  all  the  complex  motives 
of  daily  life  are  sanctified.  The  one  governing 
purpose,  that  is,  to  do  all  in  the  name  of  Christ, 
consecrates  them  all.  The  healthy  play  of  all 
pure  and  natural  affection  is  not  crossed,  but  per- 
fected by  the  control  of  a  higher  principle.  God 
has  made  man's  heart  manifold  in  its  thoughts  and 
emotions  ;  and  for  all  these  He  has  ordained  a  ma- 
nifold counterpart  in  the  scheme  of  perfect  obedi- 
ence. No  doubt,  when  Solomon  saw  the  Temple 
of  God  rising  in  silence  and  beauty,  a  multitude 
of  thoughts  stirred  within  him.     The  stately  shafts 


III.]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  51 

and  polished  corners,  the  sculptured  chapiters,  and 
elaborate  grace  of  the  house,  which  was  "  exceed- 
ing magnifical,"  filled  his  eye  and  soul  with  forms  of 
beauty,  and  suggestions  of  more  than  visible  perfec- 
tion. There  was  a  pure  and  hallowed  pleasure  dis- 
tinct from  the  one  presiding  consciousness  that  all 
this  was  for  the  dwellintj  of  the  Most  Hioh  God. 
So  in  all  the  sphere  of  our  life.  In  our  homes  and 
relative  affections,  in  our  lawful  use  of  God's  ""ood 
creatures,  in  our  honest  labours,  in  our  temperate 
ease,  in  all  works  of  mercv  and  devotion  :  thouirh 
a  complex  multitude  of  thoughts  and  emotions 
work  upon  us,  it  is  but  the  various  movement  of 
one  manifold  and  mysterious  nature,  created  in 
the  image  of  Him  Who,  though  manifold,  is  One. 
All  these  motives  arc  pure  in  His  sight,  and  all 
accepted  of  Him  for  Christ's  sake,  in  whose  name 
our  highest  and  governing  purposes  are  all  con- 
ceived. There  is  no  discord  so  long  as  thcv  are 
subordinate.  As  all  harmony,  however  intricate, 
has  some  one  tone  high  and  dominant,  by  which 
all  are  united  in  a  perfect  strain.  And  this 
chief  aim,  if  not  always  consciously  before  us,  vet 
may  be  always  habitual  in  our  minds.  The  pre- 
sence of  Christ  may  be  our  i-iiliiig  motive,  oven 
when  the  thought  of  His  presence  is,  for  a  (iiiK^ 
suspended.  We  do  not  cease  to  be  affected  by  the 
will  of  a  friend,  though  we  be  not  always  looking 


52  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  [Serm. 

upon  him.  Sometimes  the  very  depth  and  fulness 
of  our  habitual  feelinof  makes  us  less  conscious 
of  its  detailed  and  momentary  action.  Like  the 
power  of  sight  and  hearing,  we  do  not  reflect  upon 
them  while  we  hear  and  see  ;  or  like  the  fondest 
affections,  which  are  seldom  uttered,  so  taken  for 
granted  as  to  be  passed  by  in  silence,  never  trans- 
gressed, though  never  abstracted  from  the  thoughts 
and  words  which  flow  from  them  all  dav  lonf?. 

This,  then,  is  our  law  of  life  in  this  confused 
and  perilous  world.  It  will  be  good  to  try  ourselves 
daily  by  this  rule.  The  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
offer  all  your  intentions  and  all  the  works  of  the 
day  to  God.  During  the  day,  renew  this  intention 
by  intervals  of  prayer,  or  by  momentary  aspirations. 
Before  you  begin  any  new  work,  ask,  —  "Am  I 
doinff  this  for  His  name  ?  Can  I  do  this  in  His 
sight  ?  Will  He  accept  this  as  done  for  His  sake  ? 
Can  I  ask  His  blessing  upon  it  ?  Can  I  offer  it 
up  to  Him  ?"  If  you  are  met  by  difficulties,  renew 
the  consciousness  for  Whom  you  are  at  work.  If 
tempted  to  impatience  or  to  anger,  or  to  resent- 
ment, say  this  holy  Name  in  secret  to  yourself.  If 
you  suffer,  call  to  mind,  "  This  I  suffer  for  Him 
who  suffered  all  for  me.  This  is  my  cross  for  His 
sake,  the  shadow  of  His  cross  for  mine."  Be  it 
sickness,  pain,  anguish,  anxiety,  sorrow,  solitude, 
it  is  all  one  ;  we  may  join  it  to  His  sorrows  and 


III.]  THE  GREAT  MOTIVE.  53 

to  the  darkness  of  His  Cross.  In  this  you  will 
find  consolation,  strength,  guidance,  ever  fresh  and 
ever  near.  This  will  keep  your  feet  in  all  your 
ways,  be  they  never  so  slippery,  be  they  never  so 
strait.  His  Name,  through  faith  in  His  Name, 
shall  hold  you  up.  In  a  little  while,  where  will 
be  all  the  things  that  we  are  fretting  about  ? 
Where  will  be  honours,  wealth,  power,  ambition, 
high  place,  science,  learning,  pleasures,  and  refine- 
ment ?  Where  will  be  home  and  its  soft  cares,  its 
keen  anxieties,  its  tender  affections,  its  blinding 
attachments  ?  Where  will  all  these  be,  when  the 
sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  shall  be  seen  in  heaven  ? 

Live,  then,  in  obedience  to  that  great  law 
which  binds  heaven  and  earth  in  one.  All  thinirs 
on  high  worship  Him  ;  to  Him  all  things  in  earth 
and  under  the  earth  bow  the  knee.  The  Name 
of  Jesus  is  the  law  of  angels,  archangels,  princi- 
palities, and  powers  ;  it  is  the  healing  of  penitents, 
the  song  of  God's  elect.  Be  it  your  motive  and 
your  law,  and  it  shall  be  your  strength  and  stay  j 
your  shield,  and  your  exceeding  great  reward. 


SEEMON  lY. 


HALTING  BETWEEN  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD. 


1  Kings  xviii.  21. 
"  And  Elijah  came  unto  all  the  people,  and  said.  How  long  halt 
ye  between  two  opinions  ?     If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  Him  : 
but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him." 

After  the  separation  of  Israel  and  Judah,  the 
kingdom  of  Israel  fell  into  gross  idolatry.  Jero- 
boam, foreseeing  that  if  the  people  went  up  to 
Jerusalem  to  sacrifice  in  the  House  of  the  Lord, 
they  would  turn  from  him  to  the  kingdom  of  Ju- 
dah, took  counsel,  and  set  up  two  calves  of  gold, 
and  made  an  house  of  high  places,  and  made 
priests  of  the  lowest  of  the  people.  All  this  he 
did  as  a  scheme  of  policy,  to  keep  the  people  of 
Israel  under  his  allegiance.  The  effect  of  it  was, 
that  they  soon  fell  into  the  idolatries  of  the  Zido- 
nians  and  Ammonites.  Baal  was  the  god  of  the 
Zidonians,  and  his  worship  was  set  wp  by  Ahab, 
through   his  marriage  with   Jezebel,   daughter  of 


Sekm.  IY.]  god  and  the  WORLD.  55 

Ethbaal,  king  of  the  Zidonians.  He  also  made 
a  grove  for  the  rites  of  idol  worship.  Idolctry 
became  the  popular  and  national  tradition ;  the 
whole  force  and  support  of  public  opinion  sustained 
it  ;  all  the  presumptions  and  usages  of  public 
and  private  life  were  full  of  it ;  all  things  around 
them  confessed  Baal,  his  godhead,  and  his  worship. 
They  were  thoroughly  possessed  with  a  belief  of  his 
divinity.  To  dispute  it  was  to  attack  a  sort  of 
religious  common  sense. 

This  was  the  state  of  Israel  when  Elijah  was 
sent  from  God  to  gather  out  the  remnant  of  His 
elect.  His  witness  and  his  miracles  had  confounded, 
and  half  convinced  the  people.  Some  were,  per- 
haps, altogether  convinced  in  secret  ;  but  they 
hung  in  suspense,  wavering  and  doubting  what  to 
do.  Baal  was  strong,  and  his  worship  was  loud 
and  splendid.  The  prophets  of  Baal  were  four 
hundred  and  fifty,  and  the  prophets  of  the  groves 
four  hundred ;  and  they  were  in  the  favour  and 
protection  of  the  royal  house.  They  did  "  eat  at 
Jezebel's  table."  I  need  not  recount  the  detail 
of  this  well-known  history.  In  a  word,  I'^iijah 
challenged  thorn  to  a  trial  on  the  licinhts  of  Car- 
mel.  There  they  built  an  altar,  and  laid  on  it  a 
sacrifice,  and  invoked  fire  from  Baal  to  consume 
it  in  token  of  his  power  and  godhead.  And 
Elijah  mocked  them  as  "they  cried  and  cut  them- 


56  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

selves  with  knives  and  lancets."  And  when  the 
heaven  was  serene  and  silent,  and  there  was  no 
voice,  nor  any  to  answer,  in  the  fury  of  despair 
they  leaped  upon  the  altar  and  hroke  it  down. 
When  mid-day  was  past,  Elijah  builded  an  altar 
of  twelve  stones  in  the  Name  of  the  Lord,  and 
laid  the  sacrifice  upon  it,  and  poured  water  thrice 
upon  it,  and  filled  the  trench  round  about  it  with 
water.  And  about  the  time  of  the  evening  sa- 
crifice, he  came  near  and  said,  "  O  Lord  God  of 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  of  Israel,  let  it  be  known 
this  day  that  Thou  art  God  in  Israel."  "  Then 
the  fire  of  the  Lord  fell  and  consumed  the  burnt 
sacrifice,  and  the  wood,  and  the  stones,  and  the 
dust,  and  licked  up  the  water  that  was  in  the 
trench.  And  when  all  the  people  saw  it,  they 
fell  on  their  faces,  and  they  said.  The  Lord  He 
is  the  God ;  the  Lord  He  is  the  God." 

Now  this  history  strikingly  illustrates  a  very 
common  fault  of  character.  I  mean,  indecision  in 
religion. 

First,  we  have  here  a  type  of  the  worship  of 
the  world  set  up  within  the  Church  of  God ;  and 
of  the  insensibility  which  comes  upon  worldly 
Christians.  The  greater  part  of  men,  if  they  do 
not  grieve  and  resist  the  Spirit  of  their  baptism, 
fall  into  a  low,  dim,  relaxed  Christianity,  which 
is  the  Christianity  of  the  world.     They  are  nomi- 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  57 

nally  Christians  ;  but  splendour,  society,  rank, 
high  connexions,  great  friends,  money,  pleasure, 
and  the  like,  are  the  real  objects  of  their  anxiety 
and  labour,  —  that  is,  of  their  worship.  To  such 
people  the  rule  of  life  is  the  custom  of  the  majority. 
Their  standard  of  judgment  is  the  opinion  of  those 
by  whom  they  wish  to  be  well  thought  of.  They 
measure  their  duties  by  the  example  of  the  patrons 
whom  they  serve  or  follow.  Their  maxim  and 
theory  of  life  are  founded  upon  the  average  prac- 
tice of  the  society  in  which  they  live.  Their 
religion  is  the  relio-ion  of  the  greater  number. 
What  is  practicable  in  religion  is  what  the  world 
will  allow  them  to  fulfil.  Whatever  is  beyond  it, 
is  overstrained,  indiscreet,  singular,  and  in  bad 
taste.  Sometimes,  many  better  qualities  are  min- 
gled in  such  minds  ;  as,  for  example,  reverence  for 
established  usages,  the  customs  of  former  genera- 
tions, the  names  of  forefathers,  and  the  like.  But 
those,  though  they  mitigate  the  personal  fault  of 
yielding  to  the  way  of  the  world,  do  not  change  the 
quality  of  indecision,  nor  avert  the  danger  oi'  it. 

The  effect  of  all  this  is,  to  produce  a  dulncss 
of  spiritual  perception.  Whatever  is  above  the 
average  standard  is  to  lluin  enthusiastic  and  vi- 
sionary, or  conceited  and  singular.  The  precepts 
and  counsels  of  devotion  and  holy  living  are  to 
them    refinements    and    excess.     They  cannot    see 


5S  HALTING   BETWEEN  [Sekm. 

them  to  be  a  duty,  or  to  be  profitable,  or  even  to 
be  safe.  Such  minds  have  either  very  faint,  or 
no  clear  insight  or  faculties  of  the  Spirit,  to  which 
you  can  appeal.  The  more  perfect  forms  of  holi- 
ness, which  ought  to  be  instincts  in  the  regenerate, 
must  be  laboriously  proved  to  them.  The  higher 
those  precepts  are,  the  more  need  of  proof. 

What  is  the  plain  meaning  of  all  this  ?  It  is, 
that  the  world  weighs  heavy  upon  the  visible  mass 
of  Christians,  and  lowers  them  to  its  own  standard. 
Only  individuals  rise  above  it ;  and  the  mass  keep 
each  other  in  countenance  ;  denouncing  them  as 
dreamers.  "  The  prophets  of  Baal  are  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men,  and  the  prophets  of  the  grove 
four  hundred  men,"  and  "  they  eat  at  Jezebel's 
table."  The  world  loves  its  own,  and  follows  them 
because  they  wait  upon  it. 

But  next  we  see  here  how  light  sometimes 
forces  itself  upon  such  people.  God  sends  to  them 
a  witness  and  a  warning.  Sickness,  danger,  the  loss 
of  those  they  love,  worldly  adversity,  such  as  ruin 
of  fortune,  disappointments,  and  the  like  : — these 
things  make  them  look  deeper  than  the  surface. 
They  find  the  world's  religion  to  be  an  imposture,  a 
conspiracy  to  keep  up  a  decent  appearance,  and  to 
keep  out  the  stern  reality  of  the  Cross.  Little  by 
little  they  begin  to  see  that  ease,  glitter,  smooth- 
ness, comfort,  a  free  life,  a  fair  opinion  of  themselves, 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  59 

are  not  the  signs  of  Christ's  servants  ;  that  in  such 
things  there  are  no  tokens  of  the  Crucifixion.  These 
are  not  the  array  of  repentance,  nor  fit  trappings 
for  fallen  sinners.  They  begin,  therefore,  to  doubt 
the  truth  of  their  past  self-persuasion  ;  they  begin 
to  see  that  their  active  thoughts  and  powers  are 
bestowed  with  a  fearful  concentration  upon  this 
world,  and  that  God  and  His  kingdom  are  but 
faintly  remembered :  that  their  prayers  and  re- 
pentance are  not  states  and  habits,  but  momentary 
acts  or  feelings.  Their  whole  life  of  private  devo- 
tion, perhaps,  would  not  fill  one  hour  in  the  twenty- 
four.  Whatever  is  right,  this  must  be  wrong. 
New  truths  then  begin  to  glimmer,  —  old  truths, 
long  slighted,  to  break  out  full  upon  them.  They 
see  enough  to  convince  them  that  they  cannot  go 
on  as  in  time  past ;  that  they  have  been  walking 
in  a  vain  show ;  that  their  religion  has  been  a 
dream,  and  that  the  world  has  been  their  reality  ; 
and  that  this  is  an  open  contradiction  of  Divine 
Truth  ;  for  *'  the  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust 
thereof;  but  he  that  docth  the  will  of  God  abidcth 
for  ever." 

They  are,  in  this  way,  brought  to  a  stand  l)o- 
twccn  two  things.  On  the  one  side  is  the  world, 
as  loud,  fair,  alluring,  persuasive,  commanding,  as 
before.  On  the  otlusr  is  an  inward  woi-ld,  wliiih 
has  burst  upon  their  conscience,  —  awiul,  niajci^tic, 


Co  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

and  eternal.  Between  old  habits  and  new  convic- 
tions, how  shall  they  steer  their  course  ?  Can  they 
break  away  from  the  world,  forsake  its  pleasures, 
refuse  its  gifts,  endure  its  enmity,  bear  its  scorn  ? 
Dare  they  turn  from  the  light  of  the  Spirit,  the 
Passion  of  Christ,  the  kingdom  of  God  ?  What 
shall  they  do  ?  It  is  not  hard  to  tell  what  in  the 
end  many  will  do.  They  wdll  "  halt  betw^een  two 
opinions."  They  try  to  reconcile  their  new  and  un- 
welcome convictions  wdth  their  old  life  of  worldly 
aims  and  practice.  Sometimes  they  plunge  into 
them  even  still  deeper,  if  by  any  means  they  may 
escape  the  light  of  truth.  But  it  follows  them 
into  every  path.  They  go  back  to  the  same  frivoli- 
ties and  follies,  the  same  hollow  vanity  and  noisy 
levities.  They  try  to  drown  the  warning  of  Him 
who  stands  at  the  door  and  knocks.  But  all  in 
vain.  His  hand  has  a  thrilling  stroke,  wdiich 
pierces  through  every  other  sound; — through  the 
mirth  of  feasting  and  loud  revels,  laughter  and 
gladness,  and  the  voice  of  music.  It  has  a  thrill 
which  penetrates  the  ear, — clear,  articulate,  and 
emphatic.  They  cannot  choose  but  hear,  and  know 
Who  calls  them.  It  is  the  Voice  come  again.  They 
hurry  to  and  fro  to  elude  the  pursuit  of  conscience  ; 
but  go  where  they  will,  the  truth  is  there  before 
them.  He  meets  them  in  every  house,  stands  on 
the  threshold  of  every  door,  sits  at  every  board,  is 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  6l 

first  in  every  throng.  He  besets  them  behind  and 
before,  ever  saying,  "  How  long  halt  ye  between  the 
world  and  Me  ?" 

This  is  not  only  a  very  miserable,  but  a  very 
dangerous  state  ;  for  such  people  grow  to  be  mo- 
rally impotent.  To  know  truth,  and  to  disobey  it, 
weakens  the  whole  character.  Even  such  truths 
as  they  knew  and  acted  on  before,  are  enfeebled 
by  it.  The  whole  tone  of  their  character  is 
lowered.  And  with  the  loss  of  moral  stedfast- 
ness  comes  loss  of  consistency ;  and  with  loss  of 
consistency,  loss  of  inward  peace :  then  comes 
irritability  of  mind  ;  soreness,  arising  out  of  self- 
reproach  ;  bitterness  to  others,  because  they  are 
galled  by  themselves.  They  begin  to  dislike  the 
truth  they  shrink  from,  and  to  rebel  against  what 
they  fear.  Religion  becomes  a  sore  subject  to 
them ;  and  they  grow  utterly  estranged.  They 
lose  both  their  old  comfort  and  their  new.  Ac- 
cording to  that  Divine  and  just  paradox,  '*  Who- 
soever hath  not,  from  him  shall  be  taken  away 
even  that  he  hath.'"  O  most  miserable  reli<»i()n 
of  the  world !  always  promising,  and  never  fulfill- 
ing ;  always  fair,  and  always  false ;  strict  enough 
to  vex  the  soul,  but  not  strong  enough  to  cleanse 
the  heart;  without  which  cleansing,  no  man  shall 
see  the  kingdom  of  God. 

'  St.  Mutt.  xiii.  12. 


t)2  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

No^v,  let  US  not  think  that  this  is  an  extreme 
or  uncommon  case.  I  have  only  stated  broadly 
what  in  some  degree  is  true  of  perhaps  every  one 
of  us.  It  is  true  of  every  one  who  yields  to  the 
world  more  than  he  feels  to  be  right ;  more  than 
he  would,  if  he  dared  to  break  with  it :  of  every 
one  who  has  liofht  hiijher  than  his  life ;  convic- 
tions  beyond  his  practice  :  of  every  one  who  has 
once  been  more  earnest,  and  has  been  toned  down, 
or  rather  dulled  and  tamed  by  the  world :  of  every 
one  that  is  easy,  consenting,  unenergetic,  pliant, 
irresolute  in  any  degree  ;  for  just  in  that  degree 
he  will  halt  between  the  world  and  God.  And 
who  is  there  that  can  say,  "  This  does  not  take 
hold  of  me  ?" 

If  this  be  so,  let  us  see  what  is  the  reason  of  it. 

The  first  reason  is,  that  such  people  will  not 
decide  one  way  or  another.  Next  to  wilful  sin, 
indecision  is  the  most  pitiable  state  of  man.  To 
hang  in  doubt  between  time  and  eternity,  the 
world  and  God,  a  sin  and  a  crown  of  life,  is,  we 
may  believe,  if  possible,  more  incensing  to  the  Di- 
\^ne  jealousy,  than  open  disobedience.  It  implies 
so  much  light,  and  so  much  sense  of  what  is  good, 
that  doubt  has  no  plea  of  ignorance.  The  irreso- 
lution is  not  in  the  understanding  or  in  the  con- 
science, but  in  the  will.  The  fault  is  in  the  heart. 
It  convicts   them  of  the   want  of  love,    gratitude. 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  63 

and  all  lii^-h  desires  after  God :  it  reveals  the 
stupor  and  earthliness  which  is  still  upon  the  soul. 
It  proves  the  absence  of  faith  ;  of  a  living  con- 
sciousness of  things  unseen,  and  an  active  power 
of  realising  what  they  believe,  without  which  faith 
is  dead.  There  is  upon  them  a  spiritual  insen- 
sibility, a  kind  of  mortal  apathy,  a  listless  inat- 
tention to  any  thing  which  does  not  make  itself 
felt  by  forcing  its  presence  upon  the  senses  of 
the  body.  And  this  at  last  deadens  the  percep- 
tions of  the  soul. 

Such  is  the  moral  character  of  indecision  in 
religion : — surely  most  guilty  and  ungrateful  in  His 
sight  Who  was  pierced  for  us.  To  be  a  member 
of  Christ,  without  an  earnest  and  kindled  heart ; 
to  look  unmoved  on  Him  whom  we  have  wounded ; 
for  this  our  Lord  has  reserved  a  warning  of  almost 
unexampled  severity.  *'  These  things  saith  the 
Amen,  the  faithful  and  true  Witness,  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Creation  of  God;  I  know  thy  works: 
that  thou  art  neither  cold  nor  hot :  I  would  that 
thou  wert  cold  or  hot.  So  then,  because  thou  art 
lukewarm,  and  n(;ither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spue 
thee  out  of  My  mouth.'" 

Another  reason  of  this  irresolution  is,  that 
sometimes  when  people  have  clearly  decided  in 
their  own  minds  on   the   better  course,  they  will 

'  Rev.  iii.  14-1 G. 


()1<  lIAI/nXG   BETWEEN'  [Serm. 

not  act  upon  the  decision.  This  is  the  state  of 
many.  It  is  a  cheap  thing  to  know  what  is  right ; 
to  make  right  decisions ;  even  to  resolve.  The 
trial  is  in  the  act.  Many  die  in  their  sins,  for  want 
of  moral  earnestness  to  hreak  them  off.  A  weak 
will  is  their  perdition.  But  there  is  even  a  sadder 
case  than  the  end  of  those  who  never  begin  to  act 
upon  their  faith.  There  are  some  who  make  a 
struggle,  and  for  a  while  set  themselves  free,  and 
seem  to  make  their  choice  for  ever.  After  a  time 
they  waver ;  and  after  weaver ing,  go  back.  But 
they  are  never  as  they  were  before.  As  a  stream, 
checked  by  a  momentary  dam,  bursts  with  greater 
vehemence ;  so  it  is  for  the  most  part  with  re- 
lapsing Christians.  They  go  back  each  man  to 
his  particular  sin,  with  a  harder  boldness,  and  a 
sevenfold  greater  abandonment  of  life  and  heart. 
For  instance,  worldly  people,  who  have  been 
brought  by  sickness  and  sorrow  to  sadder  and  wiser 
thoughts,  if  they  go  back  to  the  world  again,  are 
proverbially  the  most  worldly  of  all.  So  in  other 
kinds  of  sin :  for  despised  truth  deadens  the  con- 
science ;  and  light  departs  from  those  who  will 
not  follow  it.  The  darkness  of  a  relapsed  soul 
is  of  all  the  greatest. 

Now,  if  this  be  the  cause  and  the  danger  of 
indecision,  let  us  see  how  we  may  detect  and  over- 
come it  in  ourselves. 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  65 

What  has  been  said  shews — 

1.  That  the  right  way  to  know  the  truth  is, 
not  speculation,  but  practice ;  not  to  reason  about 
it,  but  to  do  it.  There  are  many  things  which 
cannot  be  proved  by  reasoning;  or  if  they  can, 
reasoning  comes  in  so  tardily,  as  to  form  no  real 
part  of  the  proof;  like  as  it  is  in  the  fact  of 
day-light,  or  of  our  waking  consciousness,  or  of 
the  sight  of  our  eyes.  All  these  are  perceived 
and  known  in  act,  by  instincts  which  outstrip 
and  go  before  all  reflection.  It  is  by  putting  the 
decision  of  the  conscience  and  the  will  to  the 
test  of  practice,  that  we  become  sure  we  have 
judged  aright.  "  If  any  man  will  do  His  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of 
God."  For  instance,  people  who  live  a  free  life 
shrink  from  the  decided  course  of  religion,  because 
they  think  it  must  be  austere  and  straitened. 
They  would  fain  taste  the  peace,  before  they 
commit  themselves  to  it ;  and  ascertain  its  free- 
dom, before  they  trust  it.  When  they  read,  "De- 
light thyself  also  in  tlie  Lord,  and  lie  shall  give 
thee  thy  heart's  desire;"  they  think,  '  If  He 
would  give  me  my  heart's  desire,  I  would  delight 
myself  in  Iliiii.'  When  our  I.ord  says,  *' Ve  will 
not  come  unto  Me,  that  ye  may  have  life  ;"  they 
say  in  themselves,  *  Give  me  life,  and  I  will  come  ;' 
that  is,  they  would  have  life  without  coming.     lu 

VOL.  iji.  r 


66  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

fact,  they  cannot  make  up  their  minds  to  trust 
God,  and  take  Him  at  His  word. 

And  this  is  specially  true  in  respect  to  all  doc- 
trines of  faith.  People  will  not  believe  them  till 
they  see  the  reasons.  But  they  never  can  see  the 
reasons  till  they  have  believed.  Faith  is  the  con- 
dition on  which  we,  who  were  born  blind,  receive 
our  sight.  Intellectual  knowledge  depends  in  chief 
on  the  spiritual  perceptions.  And  spiritual  per- 
ceptions issue  out  of  our  spiritual  nature,  as  it  is 
matured  by  faith.  But  faith  is  the  decision  of  the 
soul,  trusting  itself  altogether  to  the  hand  of  God. 
*'  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 
that  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
not,  and  it  shall  be  given  him.  But  let  him  ask 
in  faith,  nothing  wavering.  For  he  that  wavereth 
is  like  a  wave  of  the  sea  driven  with  the  wind, 
and  tossed.  For  let  not  that  man  think  that  he 
shall  receive  any  thing  of  the  Lord.  A  double- 
minded  man  is  unstable  in  all  his  ways."^  We 
shall  never  see  the  harmony  of  truth,  if  we  first  ask 
for  proof.  When  faith  has  received  the  doctrine, 
reason  will  see  it  as  in  the  light  of  noon. 

2.  Another  truth  taught  us  by  this  is,  that  the 
effect  of  a  faithful  and  decided  life  is  to  strengthen 

o 

and  confirm  the  choice  we  have  made.  There  is 
no   knowledge  like  the  knowledge   of  experience. 

'  St,  James  i.  5-8. 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  67 

How  hard  it  is  to  realise  the  look  of  any  country 
by  description  in  a  book  ;  or  to  know  the  spirit 
of  a  man  from  his  written  life :  or  to  appreciate 
sweetness  from  illustration,  or  harmony  from  the 
written  language  of  music.  How  the  least  personal 
experience  by  sight  or  hearing  gives  to  all  these  a 
vividness  and  reality  which  makes  them  at  once 
part  of  our  minds  for  ever.  For  example,  people 
who  live  in  a  habit  of  prayer  will  tell  us  that  it  is 
full  of  peace,  of  a  peculiar  happiness.  They  never 
knew  it  till  they  tasted  it :  they  never  tasted  it  till 
they  tried  it.  Take  as  a  proof,  those  who  long 
shrunk  from  frequent  Communion,  partly  for  fear 
of  binding  themselves  to  a  stricter  life,  partly  from 
a  notion  that  frequency  would  produce  irrever- 
ence or  insensibility.  Ask  them,  after  some  years 
of  frequent  Communion,  they  will  tell  you  that  they 
never  tliouoht  to  attain  such  clear  and  undoubt- 
ing  certainty  of  the  deep  reality  and  exceeding  re- 
ward of  that  great  precept  of  love  :  that  now  they 
have  forgotten  the  duty  in  the  blessedness :  that  it 
is  not  so  much  obedience  as  delight :  that  so  far 
from  losing  the  sweetness  of  that  Holy  Sacrament, 
they  never  tasted  it  before  :  tliat  now  they  fear  to 
lose,  far  more  than  once  they  feared  to  approach 
if  :  that  a  ik^w  world  has  opened  to  them,  of  which 
the  altar  is  the  centre,  niid  the  Sacrifice  which  lies 
upon  it  is  the  life.    Tn  it  tii(!y  see  all  God's  mercies, 


6s  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

the  incarnation  and  atonement  of  His  Son,  the  love 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  to  them  now  as  a  reflec- 
tion of  His  goodness  and  His  beauty,  His  very  pre- 
sence and  the  vision  of  peace.  And  so  it  is  in  like 
manner  also  with  a  life  of  repentance,  from  which 
men  recoil  as  from  a  life-lono^  sadness.  Nothins' 
can  persuade  them  that  repentance  has  a  peculiar 
calm  and  joy.  In  no  way  can  it  be  realised  but  by 
actual  participation.  Every  day  deepens  the  sense 
of  the  Divine  forgiveness  :  the  deeper  their  humi- 
liation, the  sharper  the  yoke  upon  their  neck,  the 
clearer,  brighter,  and  more  serene  their  inmost 
heart.  The  darker  it  is  to  the  eyes  of  the  world 
without,  the  fuller  of  light  within.  What  the  world 
calls  ascetic  rigour  and  intolerable  gloom,  is  to  them 
freedom  and  the  joy  of  a  holy  sadness. 

There  is  nothing  we  oftener  say  than  that  sor- 
rows are  tokens  of  God's  love ;  and  yet  when  they 
come,  how  few  really  so  receive  them,  and  give 
themselves  up  to  be  led  and  taught  by  Him.  They 
shrink,  and  seek  out  their  own  consolations,  and 
shape  their  own  ways,  with  a  real  though  disguised 
feeling  that  God  has  made  an  inroad  upon  their 
peace  ;  that  they  must  build  up  again  what  He  has 
overthrown.  And  what  misery  is  this ;  to  beat 
ourselves  to  pieces  against  the  Divine  will,  which 
stands  firm  as  necessity  and  iron.  Even  when 
we  do  not  directlv  clash  with   it,  vet  how  sore  it 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  69 

is  to  bear  His  rod,  only  because  we  cannot  ward 
off  His  strokes.  How  blessed,  if  we  would  with 
a  deliberate  and  decisive  choice  choose  what  He 
chooses  ;  and  make  His  will  our  will,  His  purpose 
our  purpose,  and  His  work  our  work  ;  so  that  even 
in  our  sorrows  we  may  be  fellow-workers  together 
with  Him,  that  both  by  His  chastisement  and  by 
our  own  desires  we  may  be  made  "  partakers  of 
His  holiness."'  When  any  trial  comes,  then,  let  us 
not  halt  between  His  will  and  our  own  will ;  but 
say,  "  Thou  art  my  God  ;  shew  me  Thy  intent, 
and  accomplish  Thy  perfect  work  in  me."  Ask 
those  who  have  sorrowed  after  this  sort,  whether 
even  home  in  its  brightest  hours  had  more  of 
peace.  Ask  even  those  who,  after  halting  long, 
at  last  have  chosen  well,  and  are  now  entered  on 
tlie  sure  though  strait  path  of  the  Cross.  They 
will  tell  you  what  is  their  reward ;  what  they  so 
nearly  lost,  but  now  have  attained,  by  trusting 
God,  for  ever. 

3.  Lastly,  we  may  see  that  where  obedience 
and  experience  bring  strength,  they  give  also  in- 
sight and  intuition  into  the  whole  range  of  truth. 
As,  for  example,  we  know  that  (Jod  is  witli  us 
from  our  childhood  ;  but  from  i]\v.  time  we  began 
to  act  u])on  tliat  trutli,  how  different  liav(;  been  our 
perceptions  of  it.  How  different  has  been  our  sense 
'  I  Id),  xii.  10. 


70  HALTING  BETWEEN  [Serm. 

of  awe,  faith,  reverence,  in  our  private  prayers, 
and  in  public  worship  :  how  far  higher  and  deeper 
our  belief  and  knowledge  of  His  mysteries  of  grace, 
of  the  Church,  and  the  Holy  Sacraments. 

And  this  intuition  spreads  outwardly  on  every 
side,  into  the  whole  sphere  of  our  life.  All  rela- 
tions, duties,  events,  are  seen  under  a  new  light ; 
as  if,  after  long  twilight,  the  sun  had  risen  upon 
the  earth.  We  begin  to  see  our  real  site  in  God's 
world,  the  end  of  our  creation,  the  value  of  time, 
the  true  secret  of  our  own  heart,  the  just  price  of 
all  things  that  *'  perish  in  the  using."  And  this 
will  be  found  true  in  the  whole  of  our  spiritual  life. 

But  that  we  may  make  an  end,  let  us  come  to 
particulars. 

Are  you  conscious  of  any  sin  or  fault,  your 
chief  one,  still  unsubdued ;  sometimes  committed 
through  weakness,  sometimes  willingly  indulged  ? 
Perhaps  you  throw  this  into  the  general  view  of 
your  character,  as  the  one  lingering  infirmity,  not- 
withstanding which  you  may  look  upon  yourself 
to  be  religious  and  devout.  This  is  plain  halting 
between  God  and  a  besetting  sin.  Sometimes  it 
may  be  a  greater,  but  for  the  most  part  it  is  a 
lesser  sin,  as  men  judge,  which  holds  Christians 
in  their  irresolute  state.  A  great  sin  generally 
decides  the  balance  for  itself.  Carefulness  about 
money,  personal  vanity,  ambition,  love  of  the  world's 


IV.]  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  71 

honour,  —  these  hold  men  in  a  state  of  religious  in- 
decision. Now,  are  they  sins  or  not  ?  If  they  are 
not,  why  does  God  condemn  them  ?  If  they  are, 
why  do  you  give  your  hearts  into  their  power  ? 

And  once  more  :  are  you  conscious  of  any  duty 
either  neglected  or  seldom  fulfilled?  I  will  say, 
the  reception  of  the  Holy  Sacrament.  To  come 
to  the  Blessed  Sacrament  is  either  a  duty,  or  it 
is  not.  Which  is  it?  If  a  duty,  why  do  you 
neglect  it  ?  If  not,  why  not  say  so  at  once  ?  Or 
if  it  be  a  duty,  why  do  you  come  so  seldom  ?  If 
not  a  duty,  why  do  you  come  at  all  ?  Is  not  this 
halting  between  two  opinions  ?  Again,  the  Holy 
Sacrament  is  either  a  blessing  or  it  is  not.  If  it 
be  not,  why  do  you  ever  come  to  it  ?  If  it  be,  how 
can  you  turn  away  ?  Did  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
say,  "  This  do  in  remembrance  of  Me,"  or  did  He 
not?  If  He  did  not,  why  call  it  a  Sacrament? 
If  He  did,  how  can  you  despise  His  command? 
What  halting  and  contradiction  is  all  this  I 

Perhaps  some  may  say,  **  All  this  is  right ;  but 
I  am  not  fit  to  come  to  the  Holy  Communion." 
And  yet  this  only  removes  the  indecision  one  step 
liiglicr  up.  Why  do  you  not  make  yourself  fit? 
If  you  an;  not  fit  for  the  Holy  Sacrament,  are  you 
fit  to  die  ?  or  if  you  liopc  that  you  are  fit  to  die, 
are  you  not  afraid  of  saying  that  you  are  not  fit 
for  the  Holy  Sacrament?     Can  you  be  fit  for  the 


7^  GOD  AND  THE  WORLD.  [Serm.  IV. 

greater,  and  not  for  the  less  ?  Oh,  let  us  make  up 
our  minds  to  something ;  let  us  be  resolved  one 
way  or  the  other ;  let  us  be  either  cold  or  hot ; 
choose  life  or  death.  But  let  us  not  deceive  our- 
selves with  a  dreamy,  heartless,  halting  Christianity. 
"  No  man  can  serve  two  masters."  "  Ye  cannot 
serve  God  and  mammon."  What  would  you  give, 
upon  a  death-bed,  for  one  short  hour  to  be  at  last 
decided  ?  Choose  now,  and  choose  wisely  ;  for  one 
false  choice  may  become  eternal.  "  He  that  is  un- 
just, let  him  be  unjust  still  ^.  and  he  which  is  filthy 
let  him  be  filthy  still:  and  he  that  is  righteous, 
let  him  be  righteous  still :  and  he  that  is  holv,  let 
him  be  holy  still."  Oh,  just  and  awful  words.  Be 
in  earnest  one  way  or  the  other  :  for  Me  or  against 
Me.  "  And,  behold,  I  come  quickly ;  and  My  re- 
ward is  with  Me,  to  give  every  man  according  as 
his  work  shall  be."^ 

1  Rev.  xxii.  11,  12. 


SERMON  y. 


THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US. 


1  Timothy  v.  24. 

"  Some  men's   sins  are  open  beforehand,  going  before   to  judg- 
ment ;  and  some  men  they  follow  after." 

The  special  intention  of  St.  Paul  in  these  and 
the  foregoing  words,  was  to  guide  Timothy  in  the 
liigh  and  dangerous  work  of  ordaining  pastors 
for  the  flock  of  Christ.  But  we  need  not  dwell 
on  the  context  in  which  we  read  them  ;  for  they 
enunciate  a  great  law  in  God's  kingdom,  and  de- 
scrihe  an  awful  fact  in  the  administration  of  His 
perfect  justice.  Some  men  arc  open  and  pro- 
claimed sinners.  They  stand  in  the  face  of  the 
Church,  and  in  the  sight  of  God,  self-accused,  con- 
demned, juid  hranded.  'i'licir  sins  go  before  them 
as  heralds,  apparitors,  and  witnesses,  carrying  the 
whole  history  of  guilt,  with  all  its  circumstance 
and  evidence,  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ. 


74  THE  SINS  THAT  TOLLOW  US.  [Serm. 

The  whole  life  of  an  open  sinner  is  the  judicial 
procession  of  a  high  criminal  to  the  bar.  It  has 
the  pomp  and  solemnity  of  death  about  it.  The 
Church  casts  him  forth  from  her  altars  and  from 
her  tribunals.  Judgment  issues  against  him  by 
a  common  instinct.  Even  before  the  sentence  of 
formal  excommunication,  he  is  visibly  cut  off  from 
the  mystical  body  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  And  what 
is  bound  on  earth  is  bound  in  heaven.  It  is  the 
forerunner  and  visible  symbol  of  the  last  great 
award.  Such  were  the  sins  of  apostates  and  of 
presumptuous  sinners  in  the  flesh  or  spirit,  and 
of  the  authors  of  heresies  and  schisms.  The  whole 
history  of  the  Church  is  marked  by  a  line  of  open 
and  barefaced  offenders,  who  have  lifted  up  their 
heel  against  the  Lord,  and  crucified  Him  afresh 
unto  themselves.  In  the  gi'eat  conflict  of  good 
and  evil,  they  seem  to  bear  a  special  office ;  so  that 
the  manifestation  of  sin  is  one  of  the  collateral 
mysteries  of  the  regeneration  and  perfection  of 
saints. 

Moreover,  we  see  it  at  this  day.  The  visible 
Church  holds  still  within  its  outward  pale  thou- 
sands whose  lives  are  their  own  condemnation  :  as 
in  Philippi,  "  Many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you 
often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they 
are  the  enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ."  These  are 
they  whose  "  sins  are  open  beforehand  ;"  they  need 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  'J5 

DO  penetrating  scrutiny,  no  process  of  conviction. 
Their  sins  go  before  to  judgment ;  sent  forward  to 
prepare  a  place  on  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge  in 
that  gi'eat  day. 

"  x\nd  some  men  they  follow  after."  That 
is  to  say,  there  are  men  all  fair  without,  but 
within  full  of  disguised  and  deadly  evil.  Though 
in  their  life  they  be  never  put  to  shame,  yet 
in  the  sight  of  Him  whose  eyes  are  as  a  flame 
of  fire,  they  are  haunted  and  beset  with  guilt. 
Secret  lusts,  long  cherished,  often  indulged,  steal- 
thily ventured  upon ;  deep  subtil  intentions,  pur- 
sued under  a  cloak  of  some  high  profession  ; 
positive  and  completed  sins,  so  mixed  up  with 
the  actings  of  common  life  as  to  escape  detection. 
But  it  docs  not  apply  only  to  these  grosser  forms 
of  sin.  There  are  men  who  pass  for  faithful 
Christians,  who  have  free  access  to  the  sanctities 
of  the  Church  ;  to  its  offices  of  worship,  its  sacra- 
ments and  benedictions.  They  mix  in  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  devout  and  penitent  ;  they  kneel  at 
the  altar  ;  they  join  in  acts  of  highest  communion. 
They  seem  fair  and  blameless  ;  there  is  no  l)r;nid, 
not  so  much  as  a  spot  visible  upon  tlicm,  'J'o  our 
eyes  they  are  not  "  Air  from  the  kingdom  of  God." 
As  they  grow  old,  tliey  grow  in  rcputntion.  They 
die  in  honour,  and  are  in  higli  esteem  among 
the  faithful.     They  go  to  meet  their  Judge  ;    but 


76  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  [Serm. 

their  sins  ''  follow  after."  All  through  life  there 
has  followed  them  unseen  a  throng  of  sins,  con- 
cealed, unrepented,  or  forgotten.  The  sins  of 
childhood,  hoyhood,  youth,  and  manhood,  follow 
on,  gathering  in  number,  guilt,  intensity  ;  every 
age  bringing  in  its  measure  of  characteristic  sins  ; 
every  year  its  transgressions,  every  day  its  provo- 
cation ; —  sins  of  deed  and  thought,  of  desire  and 
imagination,  of  casual  self-indulgence  and  habitual 
neglect ;  sins  against  conscience  and  light,  against 
pleadings  of  grace,  and  stirrings  of  the  Spirit ; 
breaches  of  resolutions ;  contradictions  of  solemn 
confessions  before  God  ;  relapses  after  partial  re- 
pentance ;  all  these  mounting  up,  till  from  their 
bulk  they  spread  beyond  the  field  of  sight,  and 
from  their  masjnitude  become  invisible.  This, 
perhaps,  may  seem  to  be  an  extreme  case.  Would 
to  God  it  were  so.  Will  it  be  believed  that  this  is 
no  uncommon  instance,  not  only  in  people  who  live 
without  God  in  the  world,  but  also  in  those  whose 
character  is  in  many  ways  religious  ? 

Every  one  confesses  it  to  be  true  of  hypocrites 
or  clandestine  sinners  ;  but  we  are  now  speaking 
of  higher  and  more  hopeful  cases.  What  I  have 
described  will,  on  being  analysed,  be  found  to  be 
more  or  less  the  case  of  multitudes.  For  in- 
stance, this  is  really  the  state  of  thousands  who 
have  never  suspected  the  possibility  of  their  being 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  77 

in   such  a  condition.      They  have   fallen  into  it, 
because  they  never   suspected   it   to   be   possible. 
There  is  nothing  we    are   more   apt   to   take    for 
granted,  than  the  theory  of  our  acceptance  before 
God.     It  is  disagreeable  to  think  ill  of  ourselves  ; 
we  are  conscious  of  good  intentions  ;    we  feel  to 
desire  the  highest  and  holiest  state  ;    sin  is  both 
fearful  and  painful  to  us  ;  after  sinning,  we  can- 
not  be   easv   so   lonnf    as    we    remember    it  ;    our 
conscience  as  well  as  our  pride  is  hurt ;   and  we 
comfort  ourselves  as  soon  as  we  can,  by  thoughts 
of  repentance,  and  by  turning  to  the  better  side 
of  our  character.     In  this  way  people  get  into  a 
habit  of  consoling  themselves.     They  shrink  from 
sterner  and  deeper  truths  ;    shun  all  high  stand- 
ards ;  keep  aloof  from  the  light  ;   and  never  sus- 
pect—  as,   indeed,   how  can  they?  —  the  existence 
of  the  evil  of  vvliich  they  arc  unconscious.     They 
believe    tliemselves    to   be,   what   they   know   they 
desire.     What  they  are  able  to  discern,  tliov  take 
to  be   tlieir   whole    state    before   God.      Although 
at  times  particular  faults  distress  them,  yet  their 
habitual  consciousness  is  of  tlu;   favourable  inter- 
pretation which  men  put  upon  their  outward  life. 
What   they   are    in    (iod's    sinht    they   liave   never 
suspected,  because  they  have  no  standard  to  ascer- 
tain, no  tests  to  detect  it. 

()v,    to    take  another    exam})le.      This    is    also 


78  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  [Serm. 

the   state    of   those    who   have   never,    since    they 
came  to  the  full  power  of  reflection,  made  a  real 
examination   of  their  past  life.     The   sins   of  our 
early  years  are  but  imperfectly  perceived  at  the 
time.     It  is  only  by  retrospect,  and  in  the  fuller 
light  of  a  matured  conscience,  that  their  true  cha- 
racter  is    duly  estimated.     The    sinfulness  of  sin 
consists  not  only  in  the  specific  evil  of  each  par- 
ticular act,   but  in  the  whole  of  our  case  before 
God  ;  in  our  relation  to  Him,  His  holiness,  com- 
passion, and  long-suffering-;    in  His  dealings  with 
us,    and    our    ingratitude,    coldness,    insensibility, 
in   return.     Truly    to   know  what  we   are   before 
God,  we  must  take  our  whole  life,  with  its  con- 
text, and  read  it  in  the  light  of  God's  love  and 
providential  care.      Guilt  is  a  complex  thing ;   a 
balance  of  many  particulars  on  God's  part  and  on 
ours.     It  is  our  sins  multiplied  by  His  mercies  j 
our  transgressions  by  His  gifts  of  light  and  grace. 

As  another  example,  we  may  take  those  who 
live  without  daily  self-examination.  It  is  im- 
possible for  such  persons  to  escape  selfrdeception. 
They  become  simply  and  sincerely  ignorant  of 
themselves.  It  is  perfectly  impossible  to  carry  in 
mind  the  long  unbalanced,  unexamined  account  of 
many  years,  or  even  of  one  year  alone.  It  is  true 
in  every  thing,  that  neglect  in  detail  is  confusion 
in  the   whole.     Sins    that   are    not   noted   at   the 


V]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  79 

time,  slip  out  of  sight ;  they  pass  behind  each 
other.  Sins  rise  upon  one  another,  and  become 
foreshortened,  so  as  to  hide  all  but  the  last  of  the 
whole  chain.  A  lesser  sin  which  is  nearer  will 
hide  ten  greater  if  they  be  farther  off ;  a  thousand 
will  lie  hid  behind  one.  The  whole  reti'ospect  of 
a  life  becomes  narrowed  and  shut  up  into  the  re- 
collection of  a  few  months  or  days.  All  that  is 
past  goes  for  nothing ;  it  is  as  if  it  did  not  exist. 
Good  were  it  if  it  were  really  so  before  God  ; 
if  our  forgetfulncss  could  blot  the  book  of  His 
remembrance ;  if  what  we  cease  to  remember  were 
forgotten  before  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead. 

Now,  of  all  such  as  these  St.  Paul  says  that 
their  sins  '' Jolloxv  after.''*  Let  us  see  what  this 
means. 

1.  It  means,  that  all  sins  have  their  proper 
chastisement ;  which,  however  long  delayed  and 
seemingly  averted,  will,  as  a  general  law,  sooner 
or  later,  overtake  the  sinner. 

I  say  all  sins,  because  chastisement  follows 
often  even  upon  sins  that  are  repented  of,  as  in 
the  case  of  David  ;  and  I  say  also  as  a  general 
law,  because  it  seems  sometimes  that  God,  in  His 
tender  compassion  to  individual  casj's,  does  hold 
back  the  chastisement  of  His  rod,  and  l)y  w;iys 
of  peculiar  lovingkindness  make  perfect  the  liunii- 
liation  of  particular  penitents.     It  is  certain  that 


80  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW   US.  [Serm. 

there  are  such  exceptions.  No  doubt  they  have 
their  portion  of  the  cross  in  other  and  inscrutable 
ways,  which  make  the  scales  weigh  even.  In  them 
the  cross  does  the  work  of  the  rod. 

Nevertheless,  these  exceptions  no  more  break 
the  sfeneral  rule,  than  the  translation  of  Enoch  and 
Elijah  repeals  the  sentence  of  death  on  sin.  Our 
sins  follow  us  by  the  rod  of  chastisement.  As  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children,  so  the  sins 
of  childhood  on  youth,  and  youth  on  after  years. 
How  little  did  we  know  what  we  were  laying  up 
for  ourselves.  How  little  did  we  think  at  that 
day,  in  the  hour  of  our  transgression  :  This  will 
find  me  out  when  I  am  in  middle  life,  or  in  my  old 
age :  though  it  tarry  never  so  long,  it  will  come 
at  last.  And  how  few,  when  they  are  visited,  lay 
it  to  heart,  and  say  :  This  sorrow  or  this  sickness 
is  the  just  chastisement  following  upon  the  sins 
of  mv  life  past.  These  are  the  scourges  of  God, 
which  have  followed  me  afar  off,  and  now  have 
overtaken  me.  "  Thou  writest  bitter  things  against 
me,   and   makest   me    to   possess   the    sins    of  my 


youth.'" 

2.  Again,  past  sins  follow  after  sinners  in  the 
active  power  by  which  they  still  keep  a  hold  on 
their  present  state  of  heart. 

It  is  one  of  the  worst  effects  of  sin,  that,  after 

1  Job  xiii.  26. 


v.]  THE  SIXS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  81 

commission,  it  clings  to  the  soul.     Every  sin  leaves 
some  deposit  in  the  spiritual  nature.     It  quickens 
the  original  root  of  evil ;  it  multiplies  and  unfolds 
its  manifold  corruption.    And  worst  of  all,  it  brings 
on  a  deadness  and  an  insensibility  of  the  spiritual 
nature.     The   most   dangerous   part  of  sin  is  its 
deceitfulness.     Sin  can  hide  itself  from  the  con- 
science.    It  is  most  concealed  at  its  highest  pitch 
of  strength.     When  at  the  worst,  it  is  least  per- 
ceived.    Deadly  sins,  like  mortifying  wounds,  have 
little  sensible  pain.     The  cause  of  most  besetting 
sins,  and  of  most  sinful  inclinations  in  after  life 
is   the  indulgence   of  particular  sins  in   youth    or 
childhood.      Pride,    vanity,    selfishness,    contempt, 
wrath,   envy,   scornfulness,    and  other   baser   sins, 
are   the    consequences,    or    the  following   of  early 
transgressions.     They  follow  us  in  their  moral  de- 
terioration.    It   is  so   also   with    the    coldness,    in- 
sensibility,  indevotion,   of  wliich   people   complain. 
Some   sin   unrepented    or    lorgotten,    and    because 
forgotten,    therefore   unrepented,  lies    festering    in 
the   d;irk  ;   and  the  whole  character  suffers  in  all 
its    parts    and    j)owers.     It   is    this   that    obstructs 
tlie  whole  spiritual  life;   tlirusts  itself  between  the 
soul  and  tlie  presence  of  God ;  bars  up   the  ave- 
nues of  grace  ;   turns  the  bread  of  life  into  a  stone  ; 
makes  the  true  vine  seem  to  be   a  dead  lu'anch  ; 
and   the  counn union  of  Christ's  saints  to  be  cold 

VOL.  III.  G 


82  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  [Seiim. 

and  desolate.     It  is  cold  to  us,  and  we  think  it  cold 
in  itself.     Fire  has  no  heat  to  the  dead.     Christ 
did  no  mifrhty  works  among  the  unbelieving.     Our 
early  sins  of  wilfulness,  irreverence,   self-worship, 
have  followed  us.     As  shadows  they  fall  upon  our 
path,    and    darken  our   hearts,    though   the   light 
about  us  "  be  sevenfold  as  the  light  of  seven  days." 
Temptations  cast  us  down,  because  within  us  they 
have  somewhat  that  is  in  secret  leao^ue  with  them. 
The  world  overawes  us,  because,  in  times  past,  we 
have  wondered  after  it  and  worshipped  it.     Our 
present  falls,  infirmities,  spiritual  struggles,  afflic- 
tions, and  dangerous  inclinations,  are  for  the  most 
part  the  sins  of  our  past  life,  following  us  in  chas- 
tisement, and  cleaving  as  diseases  and  temptations. 
3.  And  further,  whether  or  no  sins  follow  in 
chastisement  now,  they  will  surely  overtake  us  in 
the  judgment.     "  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you 
out."^     This  is   the    inflexible   destiny   of  sinners. 
Secret  as  they  may  be  in  this  life,  all  shall  be  laid 
open  before  men  and  angels  in  the  great  account. 
Hidden  things  shall  come  forth  to  confound  the 
hypocrite,  despised  sins  to  condemn  the  impenitent. 
The  long  quest  of  sin  pursuing  the  guilty  shall  be 
ended  before  the  great  white  throne.     All  masks 
shall  be  torn  ofi"  from  all  faces  there  ;  and  we  shall 
be  seen  not  as  we  shew  ourselves,  but  as  we  are. 

^  Numbers  xxxii.  23. 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  83 

It  will  be  a  fearful  meeting  between  a  sinner  and 
his  very  self ;  when  his  true  self  shall  confront  his 
false  ;  and  the  multitude  of  his  sins  shall  clamour 
on  every  side.  Such  must  one  day  be  the  doom 
of  the  most  successful  hypocrite,  of  the  fairest  and 
least-suspected  sinner. 

So  likewise  with  the  self-ignorant,  neglectful, 
self-deceiving.  Sins  they  have  so  forgotten  as 
never  truly  to  repent  of,  shall  be  then  gathered 
in  array.  This  is  the  chief  danger  of  spiritual 
sloth.  Slothful  Christians  never  really  grapple 
with  their  sins.  They  take  refuge  in  the  gene- 
ralities of  confession,  and  in  set  forms  of  prayer. 
All  their  faults  may  be  softened,  but  no  one  tem- 
per is  really  mortified.  The  moral  deterioration 
of  past  sin  they  acquiesce  in  as  inevitable,  and 
believe  to  be  beyond  all  cure  in  this  life,  trusting 
that  God  will  somehow  cleanse  them.  Their  whole 
inward  being  is  entangled  and  clouded ;  no  con- 
victions are  fully  formed,  no  truths  fully  recog- 
nised ;  they  are  neither  cold  nor  hot,  neither  holy 
nor  unholy,  penitent  nor  impenitent;  ])ut  in  that 
fearful  middle  state  for  which  judgment  and  eter- 
nity have  no  middle  doom. 

Who  can  say  what  is  the  burden  of  sin  which 
rests  upon  the  forgetful,  negligent,  complacent,  un- 
examined, unsifted  soul  ?  What  a  crowd  of  for- 
gotten sins  shall  follow  tlie  niiconsrions   Christ  inn 


84  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  [Serm. 

to  the  judgment!  The  great  mass  of  Christians 
are  neither  saintly,  nor  deliberately  sinful :  and  in 
that  mass  how  much  insensibility,  how  much  false 
confidence,  how  much  self-deceit !  "  Ephraim  hath 
grey  hairs  upon  him,  and  he  knoweth  it  not."^ 
*'  Wo  to  them  that  are  at  ease  in  Zion."^'  "  Some 
men's  sins  are  open  beforehand,  going  before  to 
judgment ;  and  some  men  they  follow  after."  Some 
men  go  down  unawakened  to  the  grave,  and  "  their 
bones  are  full  of  the  sin  of  their  youth,  which  shall 
lie  down  with  them  in  the  dust.'" 

What  sign,  then,  have  we  to  shew  that  our 
sins  are  not  following  close  upon  us  until  now  ? 

There  are  only  two  conditions  on  which  we  can 
be  set  free  from  this  fearful  pursuit  of  sin. 

Either  that  we  have  never  fallen  from  our 
filial  obedience,  since  God,  in  holy  baptism,  made 
us  to  be  His  children ;  or  that  having  fallen,  we 
have,  by  a  conscious  and  sincere  repentance, 
arisen  and  cast  ourselves  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 
Who  is  there  that  will  say,  that  since  baptism  he 
has  not  fallen  ?  If  there  be  any,  blessed  and  holy 
are  they — sons  of  the  first  resurrection,  on  them 
the  second  death  hath  no  power,  neither,  if  they 
persevere,  ever  shall  have. 

But  where  are  they  .^  Then,  if  we  cannot  bear 
this  witness,  can  we  say  that  we  have,   by  a  de- 

1  Hosea  vii.  9.  ^  Amos  vi.  1.  ^  Jq^  j^^.  11. 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  85 

liberate  course  of  self-examination  and  confession, 
entered  upon  a  life  of  repentance  ? 

It  was  in  mercy,  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
after  baptism  fell  into  deadly  sin,  that  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  left  in  His  Church  the  power  of  ab- 
solution. 

1 .  The  first  great  end  of  this  power  was,  openly 
to  restore  to  peace  both  with  God  and  the  Church, 
those  who  had  fallen  from  the  peace  openly  and 
publicly  given  to  them  in  their  regeneration.  And 
this  the  Church  of  England  every  year  declares  in 
the  Commination  service.  Nor  do  we  declare  it 
only,  but  openly  testify  our  desire  that  it  may,  for 
the  health  of  souls,  be  restored. 

Tills  power  of  spiritual  discipline  entrusted  to 
the  Church  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  inalien- 
able. However  bound  down  by  worldly  bonds,  and 
entangled  by  the  course  of  our  secular  state,  so  as 
to  Ik' for  a  time  suspended  from  activity,  there  must 
ever  exist  an  imperishable  power  of  judging  and 
chastening  sinners  now  in  this  life,  that  their  souls 
"  may  be  savetl  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus."  It 
is  indeed  much  to  be  desired  that  this  godly  disci- 
pline of  repentance  were  restored.  Thousands  who, 
in  days  of  ruder  l)ut  uion;  living  faith,  would  have 
been  chastened  into  penitents,  now  liidi;  iIk^  corrup- 
tions which  fester  inwardly,  and  die  iu  tlicir  sins. 
It  is  the  ilock   that  perishes  when   the  shi-plicrd's 


86  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW   US.  [Serm. 

staff  is  broken.  In  this  luxurious  and  unchastened 
land,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  multitudes  "  lie  in  the 
hell  like  sheep,"  and  "  death  gnaweth  upon  them," 
for  lack  of  the  loving  severity  and  the  stern  ten- 
derness of  discipline. 

2.  But  though  the  first  end  of  this  power  of 
absolution  be  the  public  reconciliation  of  penitents, 
yet  there  is  another  equally  important,  equally,  nay 
even,  if  possible,  more  blessed,  and  full  of  Divine 
compassion  upon  fallen  Christians ;  and  that  is  the 
private  absolution  to  which  the  Church,  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  invites  all  who  cannot  quiet  their 
own  conscience  before  God.  The  unbelief  and  im- 
penitence of  the  world  may  suspend  outward  dis- 
cipline, but  the  inward  consolations  of  repenting 
Christians  are  beyond  its  reach.  It  cannot  thrust 
itself  between  penitent  souls  and  the  pastor  who 
bears  the  heavenly  keys. 

In  days  when  there  was  more  power  in  faith, 
more  fire  in  love,  more  abasement  in  repentance, 
many  of  us  who  pass  to  and  fro  unchastened  would 
have  earnestly  prayed  to  receive  the  yoke  of  a  salu- 
tary penance.  How  do  you  know  but  that  your 
sins  may  be  following  you  now  ?  Many  are  hemmed 
in  by  them,  and  know  it  not.  Guilt  hangs  upon 
them,  and  they  are  not  aware.  Forgotten  sins, 
though  slow,  are  sure  of  foot.  How  have  you  as- 
sured yourselves  that  the   sins  of  childhood,  and 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  87 

youth,  or  of  your  more  self-possessed  and  daring 
manhood,  are  put  away  ?  They  do  not  trouble  you. 
But  security  is  no  sign  of  safety.  Your  conscience 
is  not  burdened.  But  that  does  not  shew  that  they 
are  taken  away.  Forgotten  sins  cannot  burden  us. 
Sins  dimly  seen  in  the  twilight  of  a  dull  heart  give 
little  trouble.  Insensibility  is  proof  against  dis- 
quiet :  unconsciousness  leaves  no  room  for  com- 
punction. To  be  free  from  alarm  is  no  sign  of  true 
repentance.  There  must  be  surer  signs  than  these. 
It  may  be  you  will  desire  upon  a  deathbed,  or 
in  the  foresight  of  death  approaching,  something 
more  than  your  own  self-absolution,  to  assure  you 
that  there  is  no  train  of  sins  still  following  you  to 
judgment.  Are  you  so  sure  that  you  can  make  no 
mistake  in  this  ?  And  what  if  you  be  mistaken  ? 
What  if,  at  your  passing  hour,  you  wake  up  under 
the  flood  of  eternal  light,  and  see  yourself  all  soiled 
and  spotted  with  forgotten  unrcpentcd  sins  ?  We 
can  make  this  mistake  but  once  :  and  what  a  doom 
hangs  upon  that  once  !  O  better  ten  thousandfold 
is  all  humiliation,  all  bitterness,  all  shame,  a  whole 
life  of  penance,  a  whole  age  of  sorrow  in  this  pre- 
sent time,  than  to  run  into  so  much  as  a  shadow  of 
peril,  lest  death  should  first  reveal  to  us  this  one 
eternal  mistake.  How  far  wis(!r  in  their  genera- 
tion are  the  children  of  this  world  I  \Vlio  (lr(;ss(;s 
his  own  wounds,  or  plays  the  physician  to  his  own 


88  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW   US.  [Serm. 

fevered  pulses  ?  Who  is  his  own  pleader  in  a  charge 
of  life  or  death  ?     Who  counsels  himself  even  in 
the  vilest   matters  ?     And  yet  for  the  healing  of 
the  soul  and  for  the  judgment  after  death,  we  are 
all  supremely  skilled.     Alas  for  us  !     If  a  mistake 
can  be  our  ruin,  here  is  one  upon  the  threshold  ; 
a  mistake  fraught  with  eternal  perils  ;    the  fore- 
runner, it  may  be,  of  that  mistake  which  is  ever- 
lasting.    It  is  in  pity  and  tenderness  to  our  infir- 
mities of  ignorance  and  fear,  that  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  committed  to  His  pastors  the  keys  of 
His  heavenly  kingdom.     He  has,   by   the   Spirit, 
given  His  pastors^  to  the  Church,  that  they  may 
be  the  guides   of  sinners,   and  safeguards  against 
self-deceit.     It  is  a  benign  and  loving  appointment 
of  the  Good  Shepherd  :  for  after  He  has  marked 
us  for  His  own,  we  may  still  perish  by  our  own 
self-guidance.     Happy   are   they   who   from   early 
childhood  have  been   under  a  pastor's  care ;    who 
have  been   thereby  restrained  from  the  blind  and 
deadly  wanderings   of  sin.     What   makes  men  so 
unwilling  to  accuse  themselves  before  God,  in  the 
hearing  of  His  servants,   but  that  long   years  of 
self-guidance,  or  rather  of  self-deceit,  have  heaped 
up  a  multitude  of  sins  before  which  their  hearts 
die  away  for  fear  and  shame  ?     The  longer  they 
keep  silence,  the  harder   it   wdll  be    to  speak  at 
'  Ejjlies.  iv.  11. 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW   US.  SQ 

last.  Happy  they  whom  early  guidance  has  kept 
from  the  shame  by  keeping  them  from  sin.  But 
happy  only  in  the  next  degree  are  they  to  whom 
God  in  His  love  gives  grace  to  break  the  proud 
or  trembling  silence  of  their  hearts  by  a  full  con- 
fession. 

Now  what  are  the  pleas  that  people  make  for 
keeping  aloof  from  this  office  of  mercy  ?  They 
are  only  two.  One  is  to  say,  *'  My  conscience  is 
not  burdened."  But  how  do  you  know  that  your 
conscience  ought  not  to  be  burdened  ?  Are  you 
the  best,  the  most  discerning,  the  most  impartial 
judge?  May  not  this  very  feeling  be  your  one 
eternal  mistake  ? 

The  otlier  plea  is,  "  I  repent,  and  all  sins  are 
forgiven  to  a  penitent."  Yes,  but  this  touches 
the  very  quick.  Are  you  so  sure  that  you  do 
repent?  Is  it  so  easy  to  l)e  a  ])onitent,  tliat  ^()u 
can  forego  the  office  of  grace  especially  ordained 
for  jxnii tents  ?  Are  you  so  sure  that  your  n^pent- 
ance  is  not  the  repentance  of  fear,  that  it  is  per- 
fect in  its  extent,  that  it  is  fervent  in  its  spirit; 
that  it  is  tlie  sorrow  of  ]n\w  love  ;  that  you  liavc 
made  due  restitution  in  kind  and  in  measure  ;  that 
your  confessions  are  without  extcnuaticms,  and  vour 
self-examination  without  s('ll-d('{;eit  ?  Arc  you  sure 
of  all  this?  'J'luMi  \()ii  hiivc  one  great  reason  to 
mistrust  voursclf;    I  mean,  because  you  are  so  sure. 


90  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  [Serm. 

If  you  were  less  satisfied,  you  might  be  surer ; 
because  you  are  so  sure,  you  have  most  reason  for 
misgiving.  Why  leave  any  room  for  danger  in  a 
risk  so  great  ?  Make  all  doubly  sure.  Ask  of  God 
grace  to  know  yourself,  and  to  lay  yourself  open 
with  a  full  and  true  confession.  INIake  the  reve- 
lation of  your  sin,  which,  after  all,  must  come  upon 
the  unwilling  at  the  last  day,  to  be  now  your  free 
and  penitential  choice.  Anticipate  a  shadow  of 
the  confusion  which  must  cover  all  faces,  when  al 
hidden  things  shall  be  brought  to  light  before  men 
and  angels.  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves.  Be- 
cause we  are  not  open  sinners,  let  us  not  be  too 
secure.  "  Some  men's  sins  are  open  beforehand, 
going  before  to  judgment ;  and  some  men  they 
follow  after,"  stealthily  and  surely,  like  shadows, 
cleaving  to  the  whole  man  —  turning  as  we  turn 
— dwelling  where  we  abide  —  mysterious  and  in- 
separable. 

Let  us  never  believe  ourselves  to  be  secure,  till 
we  have  washed  the  Feet  that  were  wounded  for 
us,  with  the  tears  of  a  living,  purifying  sorrow. 
Let  us  make  haste  to  accuse  ourselves  at  the  foot 
of  the  Cross.  Thither  our  sins  cannot  follow  us. 
There  only  can  w^e  be  safe  from  their  pursuit. 
But  let  us  not  cheat  ourselves  by  an  imaginary 
conversion,  or  by  a  mock  repentance.  If  you 
touch  the  Cross,  it  will  leave  its  mark  upon  you. 


v.]  THE  SINS  THAT  FOLLOW  US.  91 

If  vou  bear  no  print  of  the  Cross,  be  sure  that 
you  have  never  touched  it  yet.  Sorrow,  humility, 
self-denial,  a  tender  conscience,  a  spirit  of  love, 
these  are  "  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  the 
prints  of  the  nails,  and  the  pledges  of  our  pardon. 
Slack  not  your  repentance,  till  you  have  made 
these  your  own. 


SEKMON  YL 


SELF-DECEIT. 


Proverbs  xxviii.  26. 
"  He  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart  is  a  fool." 

By  these  words  the  inspired  writer  condemns  the 
folly  of  those  who  take  counsel  of  no  one  but  them- 
selves. He  means  that  whosoever  trusts  his  own 
heart  as  his  light,  adviser,  and  guide,  in  the  com- 
plex ways  and  actings  of  life,  is  a  fool.  Half  the 
wisdom  of  the  wise  is  in  the  choice  of  their  ad- 
visers. Wise  men  discern  wisdom  in  others,  and 
call  them  to  council :  the  wisest  mati  is  he  who 
least  trusts  himself  alone.  He  knows  the  difficul- 
ties of  life  and  its  intricacies,  and  gathers  all  the 
lights  he  can,  and  casts  them  upon  his  own  case. 
He  must,  in  the  end,  act  on  his  own  responsibility  ; 
but  he  seeks  all  counsellors,  the  experienced,  and 
impartial,  sometimes  the  opposed  and  unfriendly, 


Serm.  VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  93 

that  he  may  be  aware  on  all  sides  ;  for  "  in  the 
multitude  of  counsellors  is  safety.'" 

There  is  wisdom  in  the  choice  of  advisers,  as 
there  is  also  folly.  This  is  noted  as  the  folly  of  Re- 
hoboam,  that  he  passed  by  the  aged,  and  took  the 
counsel  of  the  younoer.'  Unwise  men  call  in  only 
those  that  will  advise  what  they  have  already  deter- 
mined to  do  ;  that  is,  not  to  advise,  but  to  supply 
pleas  and  excuses.  This  is  a  high  pitch  of  folly  ; 
but  the  highest  of  all  is,  to  have  no  counsellor  ;  to 
take  no  advice ;  to  act  upon  our  own  lights  alone  ; 
to  trust  our  own  heart.  This,  Solomon  says,  is  to 
be  a  "  fool." 

In  all  the  action  and  probation  of  life,  the  chief 
and  universal  element  in  our  responsibility  is  our 
own  character.  It  enters  into  every  thing  ;  into 
every  deed,  word,  and  thought.  Our  whole  life, 
l)otli  active  and  passive,  even  to  its  remotest  rela- 
tions with  those  about  us,  our  judgments,  inclina- 
tions, and  opinions,  will  be  what  we  arc.  Like  an 
instrument  out  of  tune,  or  a  rule  out  of  square, 
any  imperfection  and  the  particular  measure  of  it 
will  b(;  perpetually  rcprodu((!d.  A  ])iasse(l  wheel, 
if  it  run  a  thousand  years,  will  never  run  true. 
So  it  is  with  our  hearts.  Wiiatever  Ik;  our  i-c- 
solutions,  convictions,  wishes,  intentions,  all  will 
come  out  at  last  just  as  we  are  ourselves. 

'  Prov.  xi.  14.  2  1  KuiKS  xii.  8. 


94  SELF-DECEIT.  [Serm. 

Therefore  we  may  take  these  words  of  the  book 
of  Proverbs  for  a  warning  to  seek  self-knowledge ; 
and  as  a  first  step  to  self-knowledge,  they  bid  us 
beware  of  trusting'  our  own  heart :  or  we  shall  but 
see  ourselves,  in  a  high  moral  sense,  to  be  "  fools," 
at  last. 

But  it  may  be  asked :  Is  not  the  heart  God's 
creation  and  God's  gift  ?  Did  He  not  plant  eyes 
in  it,  and  give  to  it  light,  and  discernment  to  guide 
our  ways  ?  Is  it  not  our  truest  personal  guide, 
^iven,  to  each  one  of  us,  by  God  Himself?  Why 
must  a  man  who  trusts  his  own  heart  be  a  fool  ? 
Let  us  see  why  this  is  said ;  and  why  Holy  Scrip- 
lure,  that  is,  God  Himself,  denounces  self-trust 
with  such  condemnation. 

First,  because  our  hearts,  that  is,  we  ourselves, 
are  i^^norant  of  ourselves.  If  we  knew  ourselves, 
we  should  not  trust  ourselves ;  we  do  so  because 
we  do  not  know  what  we  are.  We  are  by  nature, 
and  still  more  by  personal  act,  sinners.  And  sin 
blinds  the  heart ;  so  that  the  more  sinful,  the  less 
it  knows  its  sinfulness  :  for  like  death,  which  is  most 
evidently  perceived  by  the  living,  not  at  all  by  the 
dead,  and  by  the  dying  only  in  the  measure  in 
which  their  living  consciousness  is  still  retained ; 
so  it  is  with  sin  dwelling  in  us.  The  dulness 
and  coldness  which  brood  upon  a  soul  where 
the  love  of  God  is  not,  make  it  insensible  to  sin. 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  95 

For  what  is  sin?     Is  it  not  the  rebellion  of  the 
will  aofainst  the  will  of  God  ?  and  the  withdrawal 
of  the   creature   from    that    service    and   end   for 
which  he  was  created  ?     God  made  us  for  Himself, 
to  love,  serve,  obey,  and  worship  Him.     This   is 
our  end,  as  much  as  the  end  or  office  of  the  sun  is 
to  give  light  by  day.     As  long  as  creatures  fulfil 
the  end  for  which  God  made  them,  they  conspire 
and  meet  in  His  presence  and  will ;  and  so  long 
they  are  full  of  light.     They  know  themselves  by 
knowing  Him,  and  see  themselves  by  seeing  Him. 
He  is  the  key  of  their  being,  the  centre  and  in- 
terpretation of  themselves.     Such  is  the   state  of 
holy  angels  and  of  all  spirits  in  heaven.     And  such 
was  man  before  he  fell.     While  he  knew  himself, 
he  trusted  in   God  ;   when  he  trusted  himself,   he 
became  ignorant,  and  fell.     And  sin  hid  him  from 
liimself.      He    knew  that  he  was   naked ;  but  lie 
(lid   not   know   that  he   had    fallen   from    the    end 
for  which  he  had  been  created.     And  here  is  the 
great  source  of  all  sin,  the  chief  productive  spring 
of  all  evil  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.      "  Because 
they  did  not  like  to  retain  God   in   their  know- 
ledge, God  gave  tlu^m  over  to  a  reprobate  mind.'" 
"When   they  knew  (iod,  ihcy  glorified   Him   not 
as  God,   neither  were   lliankrul  :   but  became  vain 
in  their  imagination,   and   tlicir   (oolisli   heart  was 

>  Rom.  i.  28. 


96  SELF-DECEIT.  [Serm. 

darkened.     Professing  themselves  to  be  wise,  they 
became  fools.'"     They  became  ignorant  that  God 
was   the   end   for   which    they  were   made,  —  that 
He  created  man  for  Himself.     This   is   the   state 
of  every  man  who  is  not  converted  to  God  by  the 
Spirit ;  and  they  who  are  so  converted,  always  mis- 
trust themselves ;  for  habitual  self-mistrust  abides 
with  true  conversion.     But  for  the  rest,  who  are 
either  wholly  or  in  part  turned  from  God  to  them- 
selves, they  make   to   themselves    a   new  end,   for 
which  they  imagine  that  they  were   created  ;   and 
that    end,    in    some    form    or    other,    is   self.      It 
may  be  gross  indulgence  of  self,  as  in  sensuality ; 
or   it  may  be   refined,   as   in   spiritual  pride  ;   but 
gross  or  refined,  it  is  all  one.     Their  being  does 
not    terminate    upon    God,    and   centre   in    Him, 
but  in  and  upon  themselves  ;  and  therefore  they 
can  have  no  true  knowledge  of  sin,  not  knowing 
the  terms,  so  to  speak,  of  their  creation.     Not  to 
love  God,  not  to  serve  God,  not  to  obey  God,  is 
no  perceptible  sin  to  them  :    at  most  it  is   only  a 
negative  sin.     Not  to  love,  serve,  and  obey  Him 
supremely  is   no  sensible  sin,  so  long  as  they  do 
so   in    some   measure.     The   proportions   of  their 
duty  in  relation  to  Him    are  lost.     Again,  where 
His  will  is  but   faintly  perceived,   how  can  they 
be  conscious  of  their  owm  high  and  direct  variance 

'  Rom.  i.  21,  22. 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  97 

with  it  ?  In  a  contradiction  there  must  be  two 
opposites  :  where  one  is  indistinct,  the  contradic- 
tion dies  away.  So,  the  less  vividly  they  are  con- 
scious of  God's  will,  the  less  they  can  feel  the 
contradiction  of  theirs  to  His.  Their  whole  in- 
terior being  is  confusion  and  darkness,  in  which 
law  and  order  are  lost.  This  is  the  state  of  our 
hearts  by  nature,  and  even  after  our  regenera- 
tion, if  we  fall  into  habitual  sin,  until  we  are 
turned  to  God  by  the  Spirit  of  holiness  and  of 
repentance.  So  long  as  we  live  either  in  sin,  or 
in  a  slothful,  indevout,  though  pure  and  amiable 
life,  we  can  never  really  know  for  what  we  were 
created ;  what  is  the  office  of  our  wonderful  and 
fearful  nature  ;  what  are  its  capacities  and  powers, 
its  relations  and  laws  ;  and  what,  founded  on  all 
these,  are  our  duties,  and,  therefore,  our  sins. 
How,  tlien,  shall  any  man  but  a  fool  trust  his  own 
heart  ?  It  is  ignorant  of  its  own  constitution,  its 
own  end,  its  own  destiny.  Apart  from  God  it  is 
darkness  and  disorder ;  all  its  powers  and  emotions 
cross  and  mislead  each  other :  so  that  at  last  we 
come  to  believe  that  each  man  is  a  world  in  him- 
self, created  lor  scir-gui(l;ui('(',  which  ends  in  self- 
worship.  This  mny  sound  harsh  and  overstated; 
and  yet  what,  I  would  ask,  is  a  ])roud  man  but 
a  self-worshipper  ?  jiiid  wlint  is  s(!ir-trust  but  sell- 
guidance?       What   are    ;imbitious,    or   worldly,    or 

VOL.    ill.  II 


1)8  SELF-DECEIT.  [Skum. 

covetous,  or  selfish  people,  but  their  own  gods  ? 
Their  chief  love,  will,  and  obedience,  are  given 
to  themselves ;  and  what  but  this  is  worship  ? 
Does  this  sound  hard?  So  does  all  truth  which 
is  too  stern  to  yield,  and  too  real  to  compromise. 
Such  being  the  state  of  all  except  those  who, 
through  a  spirit  of  humiliation  and  self-abasement, 
mistrust  their  own  hearts,  what  must  we  call 
them?  what  must  we  call  the  world — the  lofty, 
splendid,  overwhelming,  gorgeous  world — and  all 
its  million  tribes  of  servants,  followers,  lovers, 
friends,  and  courteous  observers  ?  Do  they,  or 
do  they  not,  know  the  end  of  their  creation  ?  If 
they  do,  how  dare  they  revolt  from  it?  If  they 
do  not,  how  can  they  know  themselves  ?  And 
who  is  there  among  them  that  does  not  trust  his 
own  heart,  except  when  his  money  or  his  interest 
for  this  life  is  concerned?  Where  is  the  w^orldly 
man  who,  in  matters  of  honour  and  dishonour, 
right  and  wrong,  sin  and  duty,  wisdom  and  folly, 
religion  and  faith,  death  and  judgment,  heaven  and 
hell,  does  not  with  confident  assurance  trust  his 
own  heart?  For  these  things,  all  are  able,  all 
are  skilful,  all  are  wise.  To  doubt  it,  is  to  im- 
peach them  in  their  loftiest  capacity.  The  few 
who  mistrust  themselves  in  these  things  are  in 
their  eyes  superstitious,  slavish,  unmanly.  The 
world  lives  by  self-trust,  and  each  man  keeps  up 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  99 

his  follow  :  nothinT^  is  so  disturbinnf  as  the  fallm<>' 

o  o  o 

away  of  a  bold  companion.  It  is  like  a  passing- 
bell  in  the  music  of  a  feast ;  or  a  sudden  death 
in  the  full  tide  of  revelling.  Such  is  the  state  of 
this  fallen  world,  even  of  people  baptized  and  out- 
wardly Christian.  A  deep  ignorance  both  of  God 
and  of  self  broods  in  secret  on  their  souls  :  even 
pure,  blameless,  upright,  benevolent  men  —  many, 
too,  who  pass  for  devout,  and  in  the  habit  of  their 
life  are  outwardly  observant  of  religion  —  come 
under  this  alarmino^  sentence.  In  the  sii»ht  of 
God  we  are  told  that  they  are  "  fools."  And 
what  is  the  sign  ?  It  is  this  :  that  in  their  judg- 
ment of  God's  will  and  service,  of  their  own  in- 
tentions and  motives,  of  their  own  state  and  cha- 
racter, they  trust  their  own  heart. 

Let  us  take  another  reason.  Not  only  is  the 
heart  ignorant  of  itself,  but  it  deceives  itself.  Of 
course  these  cannot  be  altogether  separated.  Every 
one  who  is  ignorant  is,  in  one  sense,  a  self-deceiver  ; 
and  yet  it  may  not  be  witli  any  laboured  illusion. 
Ignorance  is  absence  of  light :  self-deceivers  have 
light,  and  visions  in  that  light ;  but  those  visions 
arc  illusions.  Ignorance  is  the  danger  of  unawa- 
kencd  minds  ;  self-deceit  of  the  awakened.  It  is 
chiefly,  though  not  exclnsiv(!ly,  a  religious  tempta- 
tion ;  and  wo  are  only  concerned,  at  pn's(;iit,  lo 
ron-ard  it  in  tlic  latter  loiaii. 


100  SELF-DECEIT.  [Seum. 

As  wc  have  said,  it  is  one  of  the  miserable 
effects  of  the  loss  of  love  to  God,  that  sins  arc  not 
naturally  hateful  to  us.  We  commit  them  readily, 
and  alas,  eagerly,  from  our  childhood ;  with  no 
sensible  pain,  but  with  a  fearful  delight.  If  we 
loved  God,  every  sin,  even  in  thought,  would  be  as 
a  drop  of  molten  lead:  it  would  sear  and  pierce  us 
with  ano'uish.  But  throu"h  our  sinfulness  it  is  to 
US  as  the  droppings  of  the  honeycomb.  And  as 
we  early  begin  to  sin,  so  we  lose  the  little  fear 
which,  at  first,  came  over  us.  We  get  to  sin  freely 
and  easily,  and  to  form  a  ready  habit,  which  grows 
into  a  second  nature,  and  passes  into  the  uncon- 
scious emotions  of  our  minds.  What  we  have 
done  from  childhood,  we  grow  even  to  believe  to 
be  right,  or  at  least  not  wrong ;  to  be  venial,  or 
to  be  indifferent ;  or  what  is  more  likely,  by  cus- 
tom we  lose  the  consciousness  of  what  we  do ;  and 
so  go  on  unawares  in  things  which  make  others 
tremble  ;  and,  if  we  could  do  them  now  for  the 
first  time,  would  make  us  stand  aghast.  So  sins 
grow  up,  little  by  little,  towering  unsefen  to  a  great 
height,  but  hiding  themselves  from  our  hearts. 
AVhat  is  more  common  than  to  see  men  charac- 
teristically marked  by  some  one  sin,  which  they 
pointedly  censure  in  others,  and  from  which  they 
believe  themselves  to  be  absolutely  free?  It  has 
almost  become  a  proverb,   that  a  man's  besetting 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  101 

sin  is  that  one  sin  which  every  hody  knows  but 
himself.  We  find  this,  of  course,  in  its  broader  and 
grosser  forms  among  worldly  and  indevout  people  ; 
but  it  is  equally,  though  more  secretly,  jtM^jof  Per- 
sons in  the  main  religious.  What  is  move  comTTion 
than  to  say,  "  How  wonderful  it  is  that  such  k-  p6l'- 
son  cannot  see  what  every  body  else  knows ;  that 
he  should  sincerely  believe  himself  to  be  not  so 
much  as  tempted  to  faults  which  manifestly  govern 
his  whole  mind  ?"  These  unsuspected  sins  are 
almost  universally  the  faults  of  childhood  and  early 
youth,  which  have  become  habitual  and  uncon- 
scious :  for  instance,  personal  vanity,  selfishness,  a 
difficult  and  disputatious  temper,  impatience,  re- 
sentment, unreality,  and  the  like.  And  they  who 
have  these  faults  in  them  by  long  habit,  gene- 
rally excuse  themselves  by  ascribing  the  same  to 
others  on  whom  they  luive  inflicted  them  ;  as  if 
the  wind  should  chide  the  roughness  of  the  sea 
for  disturbing  its  repose,  all  the  while  Ijclieving 
itself  to  be  at  r(!st. 

The  same  effect,  which  nppears  in  casual 
tcmptati(ms,  is  more  dangerously  produced  in  de- 
liberate motives  and  lines  of  conduct.  An  early 
habit  of  personal  vanity,  or  desire;  ol"  wealth,  some- 
times unconsciously  governs  a  person's  whole  life. 
All  thought,  labours,  sacrifices,  aims,  calculalioiis, 
are  made,  not   with   a   present   sense  of  vanity  or 


102  SELF-DECEIT.  [Serm. 

covetousness,  but  in  a  direction,  along  the  whole 
course  of  which  both  these  faults  will  be  indulged : 
the  aim  of  their  whole  life  being  just  such  as  a  vain 
and  davotous  mind  would  most  desire  to  attain. 
And  yet  it  may  be  that  numberless  secondary  and 
contingent  events  may  come  in,  to  make  such  a  line 
at  least  not  unreasonable,  and  perhaps  even  a  duty. 
But  either  way  the  besetting  sin  converts  it  to  its 
own  food  and  service.  It  feeds  and  serves  itself 
of  that  which  perhaps  the  providence  of  God  has 
ordained  for  His  own  glory.  The  majority  of  peo- 
ple judge  of  such  persons  by  the  ordinary  tests  of 
life  and  of  the  world,  and  see  nothing  in  them 
but  what  is  straightforward ;  and  they,  of  course, 
entirely  believe  the  same  themselves :  but  those 
who  know  them  from  within  unravel  the  double 
fibre  of  their  motives,  and  can  clearly  distinguish 
the  seeming  from  the  true  thread  which  guides 
their  whole  life.  The  same  also  is  true  of  worse 
passions,  such  as  jealousy,  envy,  and  resentment, 
which  sometimes  govern  from  a  secret  chamber, 
and  unconsciously  to  the  man  himself,  the  career 
of  a  whole  life. 

Thus  far  I  have  spoken  chiefly  of  the  self- 
deceit  we  put  upon  ourselves  in  matters  relating 
to  this  world  and  to  our  neighbour. — The  gravest 
part  still  remains ;  I  mean,  the  deceit  we  practise 
upon  ourselves  as  to  our  state  before  God.     The 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  103 

same  unconsciousness  which  conceals  from  us  our 
habitual  sins,  such  as  anger,  or  envy,  and  the 
like,  conceals  also  the  impatience  and  stiffness  of 
our  will  towards  God,  and  our  want  of  gratitude 
and  love,  our  indevotion,  and  sluggishness  in  the 
spiritual  life.  All  these,  having  been  upon  us 
from  our  earliest  memory,  have  become  our  na- 
tural, and,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  our  normal  state. 
We  have  never  known  any  other  ;  we  have  no  per- 
ception of  any  higher  spiritual  condition  even  by 
way  of  idea,  than  either  our  own  as  it  is,  or  by  ad- 
vancing in  degree,  as  it  may  become.  The  want 
of  such  a  standard  makes  us  to  be  a  standard  to 
ourselves.  We  confess,  indeed,  that  we  are  not 
perfect ;  that  we  have  many  weaknesses  and  many 
faults ;  but  we  think  them  little  and  superficial, 
attaching  loosely  to  the  surface  of  our  character. 
And  this  want  of  a  quick  sense  of  sin  makes  us 
slow  to  note  what  we  do  amiss.  It  has  all  our 
life  long  deadened  our  present  consciousness  of 
having  done  wrong ;  so  that  one  of  the  effects  of 
this  unconsciousness  is,  a  ready  habit  of  forgetting 
our  sins  from  childhood  to  boyhood,  from  boyhood 
to  youth,  from  youth  to  age,  from  year  to  vc^ar, 
at  last  from  day  to  day  and  liour  to  hour,  until 
the  insensibility  becomes  continuous,  and  is  broken 
only  by  great  falls;  and  even  these  arc  little  ap- 
preciated.    Such  a  heart  becomes,  at  last,  swatiuxl 


104  SELF-DFXEIT.  [Sicrm. 

in  its  own  self-trust ;  and  we  watch  it  as  we  do  the 
rash  motions  of  a  man  who  walks  blindfold,  reeling 
in  the  midst  of  dangers,  which  might  sometimes, 
for  a  moment,  provoke  our  mirth,  if  it  did  not 
always  excite  alarm.  Such  self-deceivers  comfort 
themselves  with  the  belief  of  habitual  good  inten- 
tions, being  unconscious  of  their  past  and  present 
self;  and  so  go  on  before  God,  approaching  Him 
without  fear,  even  w^ithin  the  precincts  of  His  altar. 
I  am  not  describing  the  character  of  a  gross  sin- 
ner ;  but  of  many  who  are  outwardly  pure  and 
upright  ;  even  of  some  who  have  lived  from 
childhood  without  great  falls,  in  a  life  fair  and 
unmarked,  while  spiritual  faults  of  a  high  and 
perilous  kind  have  grown  up  unperceived,  and 
wrouo-ht  themselves  into  the  texture  of  their  w^hole 
character.  So  that  what  they  most  believe  them- 
selves to  be,  is  furthest  from  the  truth,  and  what 
they  least  suspect,  they  really  are.  But  no  power 
of  man  can  persuade  them  of  this  fact.  Though 
all  the  world  beside  see  it  at  a  glance,  they  still 
trust  their  own  heart. 

This  deceit  is  often  not  only  not  corrected,  but 
very  much  aggravated  by  the  growth  of  religious 
knowledge  and  religious  practices.  But  this  leads 
us  to  another  cause,  which  must  be  taken  by  itself. 

Another  reason  why  to  trust  our  own  hearts 
is    a    note    of  folly,    is    because    they   flatter    us. 


VL]  SELF-DECEIT.  105 

Hitherto  we  have  spoken  of  self-deceit  as  hiding 
from  us  our  besetting  faults.  Self-flattery  imposes 
upon  us  with  the  conceit  of  our  own  excellence. 
And  this  is  specially  the  danger  of  such  charac- 
ters when  they  become  affected  by  religion.  The 
mature  intellect  is  able  to  apprehend  in  outline, 
and  with  great  fulness,  the  description  of  the 
spiritual  life,  and  of  the  saintly  character,  which, 
under  our  common  condition,  it  requires  many 
years  of  devotion  and  discipline  really  to  attain. 
By  a  sort  of  creative  imagination,  and  a  skill  of 
poetry  or  oratory,  people  impress  themselves,  and 
others  sometimes,  with  the  belief  that  they  are 
what  they  describe.  High  speculations,  and  the 
excitement  of  talking,  carry  minds  upward  into  a 
height  where  they  soar  in  religious  fancies  ;  broken 
only  by  the  next  slight  temptation,  or  tlie  next  call 
to  an  irksome  duty.  ]]ut  for  this  there  is  a  ready 
provision.  It  is  their  unhappy  lot,  they  think,  be- 
ing inwardly  called  to  the  contemplation  of  Mary, 
to  be  against  their  will  entangled  in  the  cares  of 
Martha.  In  this  way  they  dream  on,  investing 
themselves  witli  fictitious  characters  ;  playing  at 
saintliness,  as  children  imitate  their  eUlers.  Per- 
sonal vanitv,  wliicli  in  oilier  cluiracters  takes  the: 
direction  of  ostentatious  accomplishments,  showy 
dress,  egotistical  conversation,  or  concealed  invi- 
tation   of  flattery,    secretly    intoxicates    itself,    in 


lOG  SELF-DECEIT.  [Serm. 

such  people,  by  an  imaginary  participation  in  the 
mind  of  saints.     We  turn  from  it,  perhaps,  when 
it  is  thus  nakedly  expressed.     But  let  us  remem- 
ber that  to  invest  ourselves  with  any  measure  of 
sanctity  which  we  do  not  possess,  is  a  measure  of 
the  same  self-flattery.     It  pleases  our  self-love.     It 
soothes  us.     It  allays   the   pain   of  thinking  that 
we   are   sinners ;    that  some   of  our  past  sins  are 
hateful,  many  of  our  present  faults  shameful  and 
odious.     How  long  have   we  gone   on  persuading 
ourselves  that  we  are  meek,  poor  in  spirit,  makers 
of  peace,  merciful,  patient,  and  the  like,  because 
we  assent  in  desire  and  will  to  the  Beatitudes,  and 
would  fain  share  in  their  benedictions !     How  Ions: 
have   we  persuaded   ourselves  that   we  pray  both 
often    and   enough,   earnestly  and  with  devotion ; 
that  we  love  God  above  all,  and  above  all  desire 
so  to  love  Him  ;  that  our  life  is,  on  the  whole,  not 
unlike  the  great  Example  of  humility ;    and  that 
we  know  our  own  hearts  better  than  any  one  can 
tell  us !     And  yet,  what  does  this  last  persuasion 
shew  ?     Why  are  we  so  sensitive  under  a  reproof  ? 
Why  do   we   accuse  ourselves  freely  of  all  faults 
but  the  one  imputed?     Why  are  we  never  guilty 
in  the  point  suspected  ?     Why  do  we  wholly  guide 
ourselves,  and   feel  so  great  security  in  our  own 
direction  ?   but  because  we  trust  our  own  hearts. 
Out  of  this  proceed  our  visions  of  devotion,  our 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  107 

imaginations  of  sanctity.  It  is  a  forge  never  cold, 
always  at  work,  forming  and  fashioning  devices, 
which  please  us  by  their  fair  and  shapely  forms, 
and  flatter  us,  because  they  are  a  homage  to  our- 
selves. 

Such  is  our  heart ;  by  nature  blind,  a  deceiver, 
and  a  flatterer  ;  always  hiding  its  own  face  ;  shift- 
ing one  motive  for  another,  changing  our  inten- 
tions in  the  very  moment  of  action,  and  our  aim 
even  when  the  wish  is  half  accomplished  ;  turn- 
ing aside  the  reproofs  of  love,  and  filling  us  with 
soothing  falsehoods ;  drawing  a  veil  over  sins  past, 
and  beguiling  us  with  the  thought  of  our  present 
integrity  ;  shrouding  us  in  perfect  ignorance  of  self, 
while  it  persuades  us  of  our  complete  self-know- 
ledge. 

What  a  contrast  before  the  Searcher  of  hearts 
was  Mary  the  sinner  and  Simon  tlic  Pharisee !  He 
was  of  no  ill  life,  no  sensual  indulgence,  no  che- 
rished, conscious  sins :  in  his  own  eyes  pure,  up- 
right, zealous,  and  devout  ;  in  the  eyes  of  the  Re- 
deemer, thankless,  loveless,  self-deceived.  "  Seest 
thou  this  woman  ?  I  entered  into  thine  house, 
thou  gavest  Me  no  water  for  My  feet  :  but  she 
hath  washed  My  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them 
with  the  hairs  of  lier  head.  Thou  gavest  Me  no 
kiss  :  but  this  woman  since  the  time  1  came  in 
hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  My  feet.     My   hc.ul  with 


108  SELF-DECEIT.  [Serm. 

oil  tliou  didst  not  anoint :  but  this  woman  hatli 
anointed  My  feet  with  ointment."'  And  all  this 
becomes  seven-fold  more  dangerous  w^hcn,  as  often 
happens,  such  people  believe  themselves  to  know 
their  own  hearts  by  the  light  of  God's  Spirit.  The 
self-deceit  then  becomes  intense.  It  is  a  part  of 
their  religion  to  believe  that  He  has  revealed  their 
sin  to  them  ;  a  point  of  duty  not  to  doubt  that 
their  view  of  themselves  is  the  right  one.  Mere 
men  of  the  world  see  through  the  delusion.  The 
clear,  strong,  common  sense  of  mankind  is  of- 
fended, not  without  just  cause,  at  the  proud  and 
provoking  unreality  of  religious  self-deceit. 

If  this  be  so,  if  w^e  be  our  own  deceivers,  what 
security  shall  we  take  against  our  own  hearts  ? 
Out  of  many  we  can  now  take  only  two. 

1.  The  greatest  security  against  deceiving  our- 
selves by  trusting  our  own  hearts,  is  a  careful  in- 
formation of  conscience.  But  this  plainly  runs 
beyond  the  period  of  our  responsibility  into  the  ac- 
count of  those  to  whom  our  childhood  was  subject. 
Early  training  is  the  fountain  from  which  good  or 
evil  chiefly  flows.  The  conscience  of  children  is 
their  first  and  highest  faculty.  Blessed,  so  far  as 
outward  aid  can  make  him,  is  the  child  who  is 
early  taught  to  know  the  nature  of  sin,  not  only 
as  a  thing  simply  wrong  or  shameful,  but  as  a 
1  St.  Luke  vii.  44-46. 


VI.J  SELF-DECEIT.  109 

stain  on  our  Baptism,  a  grief  to  the  Spirit  of 
holiness,  a  fresh  wound  in  Him  who  was  cru- 
cified, and  a  rebellion  of  our  will  against  the  will 
of  God.  The  knowledge  of  sin  in  its  principle 
is  necessary  to  explain  the  nature  of  our  tempta- 
tions, and  of  the  sins  of  our  hearts.  From  this 
one  truth,  steadily  applied  to  ourselves,  comes  a 
knowledge  of  our  real  dangers  and  inclinations. 
God  alone  can  tell  from  what  evils,  committed 
in  ignorance  both  of  sin  and  of  ourselves,  such 
an  early  information  of  the  conscience  would  re- 
strain us.  A  knowledge  of  sin  in  itself  would 
interpret  to  us  the  true  moral  character  of  our 
own  conduct,  and  all  its  intricate  facts  of  thought, 
word,  and  deed.  We  might,  indeed,  still  deceive 
ourselves  ;  but  it  would  be  harder  to  do  so.  And 
this  knowledge  of  ourselves,  beginning  when  as 
yet  thcr(3  is  little  to  be  known,  makes  clear  the 
field  ill  which  the  growth  and  changes  of  character 
are  to  be  observed.  Our  chief  difficulty  is  in  the 
attempt  to  analyse  the  confused  and  hardened  mass 
of  self,  neglected  for  twenty,  thirty,  half  a  hun- 
dred years  ;  to  unravel  a  world  of  knots  and  en- 
tanglements ;  to  liinl  the  hcgiiiiiiiig  of  the  chic. 
It  is  almost  impossil)l(*  to  <h)  by  n^trospect  what 
it  is  even  easy  to  accomplish  by  continuous  wntdi- 
fulness,  beginning  in  early  years.  Self-examinalion 
be<jun  late   in   hfc   must  reiii;ind   tin;   (liicf  u.iiL  of 


110  SELF-DECEIT.  [Si-km. 

its  discoveries  to  the  day  of  judgment.  It  is  a 
fearful  thought  that  we  may  then  remember,  for 
the  first  time,  sins  of  which  we  ought  to  have 
spent  a  life  in  repenting. 

Another  benefit    of  this    early  information    of 
conscience  is,  that  we  should  be  preserved  from  the 
stunning   and  deadening  insensibility   which  early 
sins  bring  upon  us.     There  is,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
sort  of  self-concealment,  by  which  sin  secretes  itself 
the  more  invisibly  while  it  becomes  the  more  domi- 
nant in  us.     It  would  also  be  impossible  for  a  con- 
science, early  enlightened  as  to  the  nature  of  sin, 
to  deceive  itself  with  imaginations  which,  springing 
only  from  fancy  and  self-love,  are  contradicted  by 
all  the  discernments  of  the  higher  spiritual  judg- 
ment.    But  all  this  is  both  so  self-evident  and  so 
full  of  thoughts,   that  we   can   do  no  more  than 
touch  upon  it.     No  words  too  strong  can  be  found 
to  urge  on  parents  and  guides  of  children  to  begin 
the  information  of  the  conscience  as  early  as  the 
information  of  the  reason  ;    and  in  doing  so,  not 
to  content  themselves  with  repetitions  of  texts  and 
catechisms,  but  to  proceed  to  clear  and  detailed 
explanations  of  the  law  of  God,  the  nature  of  sin, 
and  the  office  of  conscience  itself.     And  further, 
let  them  remember  that,  when  they  offered  their 
children  to   God   in  holy  Baptism,    they   thereby 
committed  them  to  His  pastors.     Perhaps  one  of 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  Ill 

the  greatest  evils  of  this  day,  most  fruitful  of  sin, 
and  fraught  with  peril  to  the  soul,  is  the  neglect 
of  parents  in  not  putting  their  children,  one  by 
one,  from  the  age  of  responsibility,  under  the 
guidance  of  their  pastors.  Until  this  be  done, 
there  can  be  no  sufficient  instruction  of  the  con- 
science ;  no  extensive  security  against  self-trust 
and  self-deceit ;  and  no  adequate  cure  of  the  un- 
known spiritual  diseases  which  begin  in  childhood, 
and  cling  to  the  soul,  it  may  be,  for  ever. 

2.  The  other  security  is  the  only  one  which 
remains  to  those  who  have  never  enjoved  the  first ; 
and  that  is,  to  take  the  judgment  of  some  other 
person,  instead  of  trusting  in  themselves.  It  will 
be,  no  doubt,  painful  and  distressing ;  it  will  bring 
shame  and  bui-ning  of  face.  But  is  not  the  stake 
worth  the  cast  ?  And  arc  we  not  in  earnest  to  be 
saved  ?  It  is  of  little  use,  indeed,  to  advise  people 
who  are  not  in  earnest.  Let  us  speak  only  to  such 
as  know  the  weight  of  sin,  the  worth  of  one  soul, 
the  difficulty  of  the  narrow  path,  the  horror  of  the 
second  death.  If  we  would  really  know  ourselves, 
we  must  begin  by  taking  for  granted  tliat  we  are 
most  likely  to  be  deceived  in  our  own  case.  We 
advise  others  belter  tliaii  ourselves  ;  so  would  they 
us  again.  It  is  a  proverl)  as  wide  as  tlie  world, 
that  a  man  is  not  to  be  trusted  in  a  case  where  he 
is  a  party.     And  when   an'   we   more   of  j);irlisans 


112  SELF-DECEIT.  [Sekm. 

than  ill  judging  of  our  own  character?  However 
truly  the  needle  may  commonly  point  in  the  open 
sea,  there  are  stations  where  allowance  must  be 
jiiade ;  that  is,  it  can  be  no  longer  trusted.  So 
it  is  with  our  sincerest  intentions.  We  acknow- 
ledge it  in  matters  of  this  world's  honour  and 
wealth :  but  there  is  no  subject  in  which  we  are 
so  unworthy  of  trust  as  in  judging  of  our  faults  ; 
partly  because  a  misjudgment  involves  no  present 
loss,  and  partly  because  self-love  outweighs  the 
whole  w^eight  of  the  soul.  We  may,  indeed,  take 
it  as  a  test  of  sincerity  and  of  reality,  and  all 
but  assure  ourselves,  that  a  man  who  sticks  to 
his  own  view  of  himself  against  the  judgment  of 
others,  is  either  not  in  earnest,  or,  in  the  grave 
and  divine  sense  of  Holy  Writ,  "  a  fool ;"  that  is, 
rash,  blind,  and  self-deceiving.  How  little  do  we 
lay  to  heart,  who  he  is  that  would  fain  stop  our 
ears  affainst  all  advisers.  And  the  man  who  takes 
counsel  of  nobody  is  his  easy  prey.  What  a  spec- 
tacle is  a  self-trusting  heart  in  the  sight  of  holy 
angels — of  those  whose  eyes  are  open,  and  whose 
office  of  love  it  is  to  watch  over  us  ao-ainst  the 
powers  of  darkness  which  hover  on  all  sides,  night 
and  day.  If  in  childhood  we  lost  the  blessing  of 
guidance,  let  us  not  lose  it  now.  We  lost  it  then 
through  no  fault  of  ours  ;  now  the  fault  will  be 
wholly  our   own.     Let  us  do  now  what  we  shall 


VI.]  SELF-DECEIT.  113 

desire  that  we  had  done  when  we  come  to  die.  At 
that  day,  it  may  be,  we  shall  say,  "  Would  God 
I  had  trusted  all  the  world  rather  than  myself ; 
even  my  enemies  would  have  taught  me  self-know- 
ledge ;  from  what  sins  and  faults  should  I  have 
been  preserved ;  from  what  thoughts  which  haunt 
me  now ;  from  what  fears  which  appal  me  ;  from 
what  hindrances  which  slacken  my  repentance,  and 
beat  back  my  prayers.  I  see  now  what  I  might 
have  seen  from  the  beginning.  I  was  warned,  but 
I  did  not  believe.  I  was  lovingly  withstood,  but 
I  would  not  be  persuaded.  Now  all  is  too  clear. 
God  irrant  it  be  not  all  too  late." 


vol.     III. 


SERMON  VII. 


THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  REGENERATE  WILL. 


Romans  viii.  19-21. 

"  The  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  for  the  mani- 
festation of  the  sons  of  God.  For  the  creature  was  made 
suhject  to  vanity,  not  willingly,  but  by  reason  of  Him  who 
hath  subjected  the  same,  in  hope.  Because  the  creature  itself 
also  shall  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into 
the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God." 

In  these  words  St.  Paul  is  contrasting  the  state 
of  the  imregenerate  world  with  the  state  of  the 
Church,  which  is  born  again  through  the  Spirit 
of  Christ.  By  *  the  creature,'  he  intends  the  whole 
creation  of  God — the  entire  work  of  the  six  great 
days.  He  speaks  of  it  as  of  one  living  and  mani- 
fold person,  stretching  forth  its  head  and  its  hands 
for  deliverance  from  some  oppressive  burden,  strain- 
ing its  sight  in  earnest  longing  for  some  great 
revelation  of  God.     By  this  he  means  the  silent 


Serm.  VII  ]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  1  lo 

anguish,  as  it  were,  of  the  whole  inanimate  earth, 
and  the  universal  sorrows  of  mankind  under  the 
dominion  of  the  fall.  For  the  whole  creation  of 
God  was  brought  into  bondage  to  corruption,  that 
is,  to  sin  and  death,  not  by  its  own  act  and  will, 
but  by  the  first  father  of  all,  in  whom  all  fell.  And 
yet  not  without  a  hope  even  from  the  beginning ; 
because  throuo^h  the  seed  of  the  woman  there  was 
promised  a  redemption,  by  which  the  creation  of 
God  should  be  once  more  restored  to  freedom  and 
to  glon'. 

But  though  St.  Paul  speaks  inclusively  of  the 
whole  creation,  even  of  the  lower  animals  and  of 
the  world  of  nature,  on  which  the  tokens  of  the 
fall  have  manifestly  passed,  he  speaks  emphatically 
of  mankind,  and  chiefly  of  the  Gentiles. 

By  the  bondage  of  corruption,  he  means  the 
kingdom  of  Satan,  which  weighed  upon  every  living 
soul  —  the  mighty  and  ever  multiplying  tradition 
of  sin,  which  for  four  thousand  years  had  been 
gathering  and  growing  in  breadth  and  intensity 
over  the  face  of  the  whole  earth  ;  the  lineal  and 
accumulated  inheritance  of  personal  and  national 
wickedness,  quickened  l)y  lusts,  idolatry,  sensual 
philosophies,  atheism,  tyranny,  and  bloodshed ; 
towering  to  its  height  in  the  great  empires  of 
Homo  ;  wliicli  embodied,  as  it  were,  in  one  visible 
form,    the    kingdom    of  dcalli  ;    tlu!   death    liotli    of 


116  THE  FREEDOM  OF  [Skrm. 

body  and  of  soul,  in  this  world  and  in  the  world 
beyond  the  grave. 

And  yet  in  all  this  misery  and  anguish  there  was 
an  inextinguishable  consciousness  of  a  holier  origin 
and  of  a  higher  destiny.  The  Gentile  world  was 
conscious  of  its  own  debasement ;  and  by  ten  thou- 
sand voices,  uttered  a  lamentation,  a  kind  of  dim 
prophecy  of  its  own  deliverance.  It  had  still  enough 
of  spiritual  life  to  sorrow  and  to  yearn  after  purity 
and  the  revelation  of  God.  By  its  very  expecta- 
tion, it  prophesied  of  the  day  when  the  feet  of 
Evangelists  should  bring  glad  tidings  of  good  upon 
the  dark  mountains.  The  call  of  the  Gentiles, 
which  the  Church  of  Israel  foretold  by  inspiration, 
the  nations  of  the  earth  prophesied  by  earnest  wait- 
ing and  desire.  There  were  spiritual  attractions 
drawing-  too^ether  as  the  fulness  of  time  came  on, 
preparing  the  hearts  of  God's  elect  for  the  gift  of 
eternal  life. 

And  this  leads  to  the  true  meaning  of  the 
words,  "the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God," 
and  *'  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God." 
They  mean  the  state  of  the  regenerate,  on  whom 
was  shed  abroad  the  spirit  of  adoption ;  that  is, 
the  members  of  Christ's  mystical  body,  who  were 
taken  out  of  the  dead  world,  and  grafted  into  the 
livinsf  Church  ;  over  whom  sin  and  death  had  no 
power    of  condemnation.     In   many  places  of  the 


VII]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  117 

New  Testament,  the  great  grace  of  the  Gospel  is 
declared  to  be  the  adoption  ;  that  is,  the  grace  and 
state  of  sonship.  As  in  this  chapter,  "  As  many 
as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  are  the  sons 
of  God.  'For  ye  have  not  received  the  spirit  of 
bondage  again  to  fear ;  but  ye  have  received  the 
Spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we  cry,  Abba,  Father. 
The  Spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit, 
that  we  are  the  children  of  God."^ 

So  again  St.  Paul  says  to  the  Galatians, 
"  When  we  were  children  (that  is,  in  spiritual 
life),  we  were  in  bondage  under  the  elements  of  the 
world  :  but  when  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come, 
God  sent  forth  His  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made 
under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons. 
And  because  ye  arc  sons,  God  hath  sent  forth 
the  Spirit  of  His  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying, 
Abba,  Father.  Wherefore  thou  art  no  more  a 
servant,  but  a  son  ;  and  if  a  son,  then  an  heir  of 
God  through  Christ."'  Again,  to  take  only  one 
more  of  many  passages  :  St.  John  says,  "  Behold, 
what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed 
upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called  the  sons  of 
God  :  therefore  th(;  world  knoweth  us  not,  be- 
cause it  knew  Ilini  not.  Uelovcd,  now  an;  we  the 
sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
'  Koin.  viii.  14-lG.  '^  Gill.  iv.  3-7. 


118  THE  FREEDOftI   OF  [Serm. 

we  shall  be :  but  we  know  that,  when  lie  shall 
appear,  we  shall  be  like  Ilim ;  for  we  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is."^  In  all  these  places  we  are  taught, 
that  we  are  now  the  sons  of  God ;  and  that  there 
is,  in  virtue  of  our  sonship,  an  inheritance,  a  fuller 
manifestation  of  grace,  yet  to  come.  "If  children, 
then  heirs,  heirs  of  God,  joint  heirs  with  Christ." 
"  We  know  not  what  we  shall  be."  "  We  shall 
be  like  Him."  And  this  exactly  interprets  the 
words  of  St.  Paul  in  this  place.  He  speaks  of 
the  yearning  of  the  creation  of  God,  and  of  the 
Gentile  world,  for  "the  manifestation  of  the  sons 
of  God ;"  and  then  he  adds,  "  and  not  only  they, 
but  ourselves  also,  which  have  received  the  first- 
fruits  of  the  Spirit,  even  we  ourselves  groan  within 
ourselves,  waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wit,  the  re- 
demption of  the  body."  They  yearn  to  be  like  us ; 
we,  to  be  '*  like  the  angels  of  God."  Though  we 
are  manifested  as  His  sons,  we  are  not  yet  made 
perfect :  though  in  our  spiritual  life  we  have  been 
"  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption,"  yet 
in  the  body  we  must  still  die ;  we  must  wait  for 
the  resurrection,  when  He  shall  make  the  body 
of  our  humiliation  like  to  the  body  of  His  glory. - 
And  this  explains  also  the  meaning  of  the  word 
'  regeneration,'  which  St,  Paul  uses  of  Baptism.  It 
is  the  grace  of  the  new  Birth,  "  the  laver  of  rege- 

1   1  St.  John  iii.  1,  2.  -  Phil.  iii.  -21. 


VII.]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  1 1  <J 

Deration,"  the  being  "  born  of  water  and  of  the 
Spirit."  By  our  blessed  Lord  it  is  used  also  of  the 
resurrection,  when  the  work  of  regeneration  shall 
be  made  perfect  by  the  redemption  of  the  body. 
"Ye  that  have  followed  Me,  in  the  regeneration 
when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  His  glory,  ye  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones, 
judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel  :"^  for  our 
salvation  is  all  one  work,  beginning  at  our  bap- 
tism here,  and  carried  on  to  the  day  of  the  re- 
surrection, when  all  shall  be  made  like  Him,  by 
the  vision  of  Himself. 

The  plain  meaning,  then,  of  the  text  is,  that 
the  whole  world,  conscious  of  its  disinheritance, 
is  crying  aloud  for  the  spirit  of  adoption,  which 
is  even  now  about  to  be  shed  abroad.  The  na- 
tions are  teeming  with  gifts  of  secret  grace  which 
shall  be  gathered  and  compacted,  by  the  power 
of  a  new  Ijirtli,  into  the  mystical  body  of  Christ : 
they  are  waiting  and  breaking  forth  in  impatient 
desire  for  tlie  message  of  life,  which  the  Father 
gave  to  His  Son,  and  His  Son  hath  given  unto 
us.  Out  of  that  dark  waste  shall  spring  up  sons 
and  saints  of  God.  "He  will  destroy  the  face 
of  tlu;  covering,  and  llic  vail  lliat  is  spread  over 
all  nations;"  and  llic  jjowcrs  of  th(>  regeneration 
and    ol'    tlie    resurrection    shall    work     tln-()iiL;li<»ul 

'  St.  Matt.  xix.  '2S. 


I'JO  THE  FREEDOM   OF  [!<krm. 

mankind,  casting-  forth  the  tirst  and  the  second 
death,  and  healing  the  wounds  of  all  creatures. 
Upon  us  who  have  been  called  this  work  is  already 
begun.  We  are  united  to  the  Son  of  God,  and 
are  made  partakers  of  His  life,  death,  and  resur- 
rection. All  that  He  has  accomplished  in  His 
own  Person  is  made  ours  by  the  free  gift  of 
God.  The  whole  Church  in  the  world  is  a  new 
creation,  rising  up  out  of  the  old :  sin  and  death, 
that  is,  the  gates  of  hell,  cannot  prevail  against 
it.  The  powers  of  the  fall  are  turned  back  again 
upon  their  original  source  :  against  the  Church 
of  Christ  they  have  no  power.  It  is  the  justified 
body  of  a  righteous  Head  ;  the  immortal  brother- 
hood of  Him  who  is  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Life.  We  are  "  no  more  servants,  but  sons  ;"'  no 
more  in  bondage,  but  "  in  the  glorious  liberty  of 
the  children  of  God."  Such  is  our  state  as  Chris- 
tians. 

From  this  we  learn,  that  the  great  gift  of 
the  Gospel  in  our  regeneration  is  spiritual  liberty, 
that  is,  the  true  freedom  of  the  will. 

God  made  man  with  a  will  perfectly  free  ;  a 
part  of  His  own  image.  Man  by  sin  enslaved  it 
to  sin,  and  yet  so  as  to  be  always  a  free  agent 
even  in  sin.  Therefore  in  many  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture the  contrast  of  the  state  of  nature,  and  even  of 

^  Gal.  iv.  7. 


VII. j  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  121 

the  Jews,  with  that  of  Christians,  is  an  opposition 
of  bondage  and  liberty:  as  in  this  place,  between 
"  the  bondage  of  corruption,"  and  "  the  glorious 
liberty  of  the  children  of  God."  Speaking  to  the 
Jews,  our  Lord  said,  "If  the  Son  shall  make  you 
free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed.'"  St.  James  calls 
the  Gospel  "  the  law  of  liberty  ;"  and  says,  "  So 
speak  ye,  and  so  do,  as  they  that  shall  be  judged 
by  the  law  of  liberty."-  St.  Paul  says,  "  The 
law  is  not  made  for  a  righteous  man,  but  for 
the  lawless  and  disobedient,  for  the  ungodly  and 
for  sinners,  for  unholy  and  profane  :"^  meaning, 
that  they  who  are  born  again  by  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  are  no  longer  under  the  dominion  of  ig- 
norance and  lust,  as  the  Gentiles  ;  nor  under 
ceremonies  and  commandments  written  on  stone, 
as  the  Jews  :  they  are  gifted  with  the  light  and 
strength  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  their  law  is 
not  a  law  without  theni,  i)ut  within,  not  on  tables 
of  stone,  but  in  the  heart  and  in  the  soul.  "Tliis 
is  the  covenant  that  I  will  make  with  them  after 
those  days,  saith  the  Lord ;  I  will  })ut  my  laws 
into  their  hearts,  and  in  their  minds  will  1  write 
them.'"  Their  law  is  the  Spirit  in  a  regenerate 
conscience  ;  they  are  a  law  unto  themselves.  When 
St.  Paul,  therefore,    says,    "  the;    law    is    not    inadi^ 

'  St,  .luliii  viii.  ;{(;.  ■''  St.  Jiiincs  ii.  12. 

•''  1    I'im.  i.  9.  '  Mcb.  X.  ir;. 


122  THE  FREEDOM  OF  LSerm. 

for  a  riohtcous  man,"  it  is  in  the  sense  of  saying, 
the  first  axioms  of  science,  the  first  rules  of  art, 
are  not  for  the  wise  and  skilful.  Such  guides 
are  not  for  them,  as  the  conscious  and  percept- 
ible rules  of  their  practice.  Yet  they  may  not 
contravene  the  very  least  of  them.  The  most 
cultivated  reason  must  obey  the  elementary  laws 
of  scientific  truth  as  exactly  as  the  rudest.  They 
are  a  rule  to  all ;  only  the  learned  do  not  lean 
upon  them  consciously.  Such  principles  of  truth 
have  passed  into  their  very  nature,  and  have  be- 
come spontaneous.  So  it  is  with  the  law  of  obedi- 
ence in  those  that  are  faithful  to  their  regenera- 
tion. They  have  received  again  the  beginnings 
of  the  grace  which  in  Adam  was  perfect ;  the 
impress  of  the  image  of  God  who  is  law  to  all 
things,  even  to  Himself. 

From  this  we  may  draw  some  practical  lessons 
of  great  importance  for  the  guidance  of  our  life. 

1.  First,  how  deep  a  degradation  sin  is, — 
above  all,  in  the  regenerate.  The  hatefulness  of 
sin  is  hardly  more  appalling  than  its  shame.  It 
makes  man,  who  is  but  little  lower  than  the  angels, 
to  be  the  slave  of  corruption,  like  the  beasts  that 
perish.  We  hear  much  of  the  dignity  of  human 
nature ;  and  truly  a  dignity  there  was  when  God 
made  mankind  in  His  own  image  and  likeness  : 
but  in  man  as   fallen,   it  is  but  the   dream   of  a 


VII. ]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  123 

de<rraded  lineao^e,  of  a  kinolv  race  thrust  from  its 
dominion ;  a  mere  mockery  of  its  utter  nakedness. 
"  By  whatsoever  a  man  is  overcome,  by  the  same 
is  he  brought  in  bonda<i:e."  A  wilful  sinner  is  as 
a  slave  over  whom  a  barter  has  been  concluded. 
The  money  has  been  weighed  for  him  ;  he  is  sold 
under  sin ;  a  mere  tool,  all  the  more  degraded 
because  a  willing  tool ;  worshipping  the  master 
that  destroys  and  spurns  him.  By  the  abuse  of 
his  free  will,  he  becomes  the  slave  not  only  of  the 
world  and  of  the  devil,  but  of  his  own  corruption, 
of  his  own  flesh,  and  of  his  own  tyrannous  passions, 
which,  each  one,  gain  a  sort  of  outward  personality, 
and  usurp  a  despotism  over  the  sordid  and  sen- 
sual will,  degrading  him,  and,  in  every  several 
act,  making  the  degradation  intense,  because  it  is 
freely  chosen  and  willingly  endured.  Such  is  every 
habit  of  vice,  even  in  the  heathen.  But  how 
much  worse  in  those  that  have  been  born  again, 
wlio,  of  sons  of  God,  make  themselves  again  "  two- 
fold more  the  children  of  hell  than"  before — who, 
out  of  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God, 
sell  themselves  to  the  ])()n(lage  of  lust,  pride,  re- 
venge, and  the  like.  Every  such  vice  is  a  task- 
master, standing  with  a  lash  over  his  miserable 
servant.  No  one  that  has  given  himself  iij)  to 
such  a  bondage  can  cjill  himself  his  own.  He  lias 
lost  all    title   ;in(l    |)id|K'il\    in   biniscH;    lir   i-    both 


1^24  THE  FREEDOM  OF  [Ser.m. 

possessed  and  used,  and  made  away  with,  by  an- 
other, and  always  with  his  own  obsequious  con- 
sent. So  false  and  contradictory  is  sin.  When  we 
seek  liberty  in  license,  we  become  "  fast  bound  in 
misery  and  iron."  There  is  no  slavery  so  great 
as  that  of  a  will  which  has  broken  the  yoke  of 
Christ,  and  become,  by  its  own  free  choice,  the 
servant  of  its  own  sinful  inclinations ;  for  the  will 
itself  is  in  bondage  to  its  own  lusts.  So  sinners 
enslave  each  other.  "  While  they  promise  them 
liberty,  they  themselves  are  servants  of  corrup- 
tion." The  most  slavish  will  is  that  which  sins 
with  the  greatest  freedom.  We  must  not  limit 
this  to  grosser  vices  :  far  from  it.  The  smoother 
and  more  refined  sins  are  all  in  this  point  alike. 
Ambition,  personal  vanity,  jealous  tempers,  an  evil 
eye,  love  of  money,  worldly  pleasures,  luxury,  in- 
dolence, insincerity,  and  many  like  faults,  which 
are  for  the  most  part  concealed,  and  very  subtil. 
Sometimes  they  appear  under  forms  that  the  world 
admires ;  and  become,  every  one,  masters  to  whom 
we  abandon  "  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  chil- 
dren of  God."  There  is  somewhat  very  melan- 
choly in  the  abject  and  eager  servility  with  which 
men  obey  their  hard  commands ;  sacrificing  health, 
peace,  freshness  of  heart,  conscience,  the  light 
of  God's  presence,  the  very  soul  of  their  spiri- 
tual  life.     They   enter   again  insensibly   into    the 


VII. ]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  125 

bondage  of  corruption,  and  groan  under  the  bur- 
den which  weighs  on  them  more  heavily  day  by  day. 
Where  is,   1   will   not  ask  "  the   glorious  liberty 
of  the    sons   of   God,"   but  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  in  a  vain  or  vicious  Christian  ?     We  must 
be  sons  or  slaves.     Choose  which  you  will  be.     As 
you   live  so  you  choose.     Some   men   make   their 
profession    a   bondage.     They  toil   for    a    fortune, 
or  a  name,  or  to  make  a  family,  and  leave  a  title 
behind  them,  as  if  they  were  created  for  no  other 
end ;    as  if  in  that  their  will  had  found  its   true 
place  and  sphere  of  responsibility.     Others  make 
an  abject  slavery  of  a  life  of  pleasure,  under  which 
they    are    perpetually   complaining,    and   yet   per- 
petually  entangling  themselves   deeper.     What  is 
worldly  society  but  a  thraldom,    in   which  almost 
every  one  feels  himself  both   burdened  and  galled 
by  unmeaning  customs,  by  heartless  usages,  which 
break  in  upon  the  order,  the  peace,  and  the  sanc- 
tity of  a  devout  life  ?     Nevertheless,   people   still 
go  on,   professing  reluctance  and   unwillingness  at 
every  step,  longing   to  be  free,  and  yet  willingly 
offering  themselves  to  be  bound  tenfold  closer  to 
the  wheel  which  carries  them  in  the  endless  track 
of  a  worldly  life.     Miserable  struggles,  all  in  v;iiii. 
Ill  this  way  some  go  on   through  life,    and  lose  at 
last  th(!  perception  of  tlunr  bondage  ;   circa  in   fliat 
they   are  free;    wear  their   chains   till    llicv    (urget 


IQ(')  THE  FREEDOM   OF  [Serm. 

them,  or  would  be  ill  at  ease  if  their  shackles  were 
struck  off. 

2.  We  may  learn  next,  how  great  is  the  misery 
of  an  inconsistent  life.  It  forfeits  the  true  grace 
of  Christian  obedience.  To  be  religious  from  mere 
sense  of  necessity,  that  is,  against  our  will,  is  a  con- 
tradiction and  a  yoke.  To  try  to  love  God  because 
we  are  afraid  of  Him,  what  can  be  more  piteous  ? 
What  more  miserable  than  the  reluctant,  laggard 
unwillingness  with  which  some  people  do  what 
they  call  their  religious  duties  ?  The  longer  they 
do  them  against  the  grain,  the  more  irksome  they 
become,  and  the  more  estranged  their  hearts  will 
grow.  And  this  must  be  so,  until  they  have  re- 
leased their  will  from  the  bondage  of  worldly  or 
personal  temptations.  So  long  as  these  keep  hold 
on  them,  they  are  not,  in  the  true  and  perfect 
sense,  free  agents.  It  is  much  to  be  feared  that 
many  whose  lives  are  pure,  who  appear  devout  in 
all  the  outward  usages  of  the  Church,  serve  God 
with  a  heart  that  has  no  pleasure  in  obedience. 
If  they  would  speak  out  plainly  what  they  feel 
in  secret,  they  would  confess  that  to  them  God's 
commandments  are  "  grievous,"  and  the  yoke  of 
Christ  is  not  "  light."  Their  free  will  is  given 
to  another,  and  it  is  but  a  constrained  homage 
they  render  to  Christ.  The  glorious  liberty  of 
the  children  of  God  turns  to   a  forced,  necessarv 


VII.]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  127 

observance  of  commandments.  They  are  under  a 
law,  and  have  retrograded  in  the  scale  of  spiritual 
perfection  ;  from  sons,  they  have  turned  back 
again  to  be  servants ;  and  their  whole  temper  of 
heart  towards  God  is  infected  by  a  consciousness  of 
indevotion  and  of  a  lingering  undutiful  will. 

This  it  is  that  makes  the  spiritual  habits  of  the 
soul  so  weak,  and  the  faults  of  the  mind  so  strono-. 
People  grow  dejected  under  a  consciousness  of  dif- 
ficulty, and  become  faint-hearted  in  temptations ; 
and  faults  come  back  upon  them  and  regain  ascen- 
dancy. Such  people  come  at  last  to  say,  It  is  of 
no  use ;  I  have  tried  for  years  to  find  my  happi- 
ness in  religion,  but  nothing  will  do.  It  is  all  as 
irksome  as  ever.  I  feel  no  pleasure  in  any  thing 
holy  ;  and  the  thought  of  God  alarms  me.  Now 
what  is  the  true  cause  of  all  this  ?  "  Because  thou 
servedst  not  the  Lord  thy  God  with  joyfulness,  and 
with  gladness  of  heart,  for  the  abundance  of  all 
things  ;  therefore  shalt  thou  serve  thine  enemies 
which  the  Lord  shall  send  against  thee,  in  hunger, 
and  in  thirst,  and  in  nakedness,  and  in  want  of 
all  things  :  and  He  shall  put  a  yoke  of  iron  upon 
thy  neck.'"  It  is  Ixnausc  wc  do  not  realise  the 
blessedness  and  tli(!  jjower  of  a  i'vvi'.  will  ;  IxH'ausc 
wc  will  not  do  (iod's  will  as  sons,  oiil  of  ;i  lo\iii^ 
and  glad  ohcdicnce,  llicn'forc  wc  cannol  stand 
'  Dcut.  xxviii.  47,  48. 


1^8  THE  FREEDOM  OF  [Serm. 

against  the  world.  It  takes  us  captive,  and  puts 
out  our  eyes,  and  sets  us  blinded  to  the  mill,  to 
labour  in  darkness,  in  an  involuntary  and  shameful 
servitude. 

3.  And  once  more  :  we  may  see  how  great 
is  the  happiness  and  the  dignity  of  a  formed  and 
mature  faith.  For  what  is  faith  but  the  realisa- 
tion and  actual  enjoyment  of  the  glorious  liberty 
of  a  free  and  holy  will,  supported  by  the  unseen 
world,  by  the  presence  of  God,  and  by  the  Spi- 
rit of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  ?  It  is  through 
this  deep  consciousness  of  what  their  spiritual 
birth  had  made  them,  that  saintly  men  in  all 
ao^es  have  been  strenothoned  to  break  throuo^h 
the  manifold  bondage  of  sin  and  the  world,  of 
this  fallen  life,  and,  harder  still,  of  their  own  self- 
indulgent  hearts.  It  is  by  this  that  they  have 
conceived  and  accomplished  all  great  works  of 
mercy,  all  great  sacrifices  of  self.  They  cleared 
away  the  space  around  their  lot  in  the  world,  and 
laid  down  the  lines  and  principles  of  their  life 
upon  the  scale  of  that  "  liberty  with  which  Christ 
has  made  us  free."  Without  either  affected  sin- 
gularity or  needless  contradiction  to  other  people, 
— tokens  always  of  a  weak  and  little  mind, — there 
has  ever  been  a  clear  and  distinguishable  charac- 
ter about  everv  such  man  ;  a  character  altog-ether 
his  own,   standing  out  plain,  harmonious,  and  in- 


VII.]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  129 

telligiblo.  This  is  the  true  development  of  our 
new  birth ;  the  true  secret  of  all  strength  and 
force  in  the  individual  will ;  the  several  and  dis- 
tinct personality  of  the  members  of  the  mystical 
body  of  Christ.  Such  a  man  is  His  freeman. 
The  world  has  no  jurisdiction  over  him :  public 
opinion,  the  maxims  and  example  of  others,  the 
traditions  of  centuries  and  of  nations,  have  no  hold 
upon  him  ;  he  pays  them  no  allegiance.  The  baits 
and  lures  of  ambition,  wealth,  pleasure,  flattery, 
popularity,  have  no  seduction  for  his  will.  It 
stands  alone  in  the  centre  of  his  own  soul,  stayed 
only  upon  God.  No  external  forces  seem  to  tell 
upon  him.  Personal  infirmities  disappear  from 
the  outline  of  his  character  :  personal  temptations 
cleave  asunder  and  are  passed  through  without 
perceptible  exertion ;  they  seem  rather  to  melt 
awav  before  him.  Great  sacrifices  are  the  un- 
strained  acts  of  his  daily  life.  There  is  a  per- 
fect sameness  about  him  at  all  times ;  all  his  ways 
of  judging  seem  fixed  and  invariable ;  his  very 
sympathies  app(!ar  to  be  under  laws  that  never 
change  ;  they  may  be  always  foretold  and  acted 
on  ;  his  perceptions  of  riglit  and  wrong  grow  to 
be  intuitive ;  and  his  words,  from  the  sameness 
of  his  inward  character,  seem  1o  follow  by  a  cer- 
tain order,  and  to  reeur  by  ('(M'laiii  just  ;iiid  ;i(- 
curatc  combinations.     Every  thing  appears  to   be 

VOL.   III.  K 


130  THE  FREEDOM  OF  [Seum. 

already  weighed,  and  at  once  to  find  its  place 
under  some  deliberate  judgment.  Such  men  are 
not  more  perfect  in  strength  than  in  gentleness ; 
in  their  exalted  sanctity  than  in  their  entire  self- 
abasement.  They  are  servants  of  Him  who  was 
at  once  the  Lord  of  all  power  and  might,  and  also 
meek  and  lowly  of  heart. 

What,  after  all,  is  this  but  the  power  of  a  will 
that  is  truly  free,  enfranchised  by  the  glorious 
liberty  of  God's  kingdom  ?  And  it  is  to  be  found 
not  only  in  highly  cultivated  men,  but  in  the  most 
simple  ;  not  in  the  refined  alone,  but  among  the 
rudest.  It  is  the  inexhaustible  fulness  of  the  Spirit 
of  Christ,  issuing,  through  a  will  holy  and  free, 
and  filling  the  whole  spirit  and  soul  of  man.  This 
is  the  true  and  only  basis  of  all  real  Christian 
perfection  ;  the  universal  foundation  of  all  true 
sanctity.  Under  all  variety  of  circumstances,  this 
is  the  one  true  character  of  saints.  It  matters 
not  what  be  the  lot  or  labour  of  a  man  in  life  ; 
he  can  build  securely  on  nothing  else ;  all  other 
foundations  will  bear  only  partial  and  imperfect 
forms  of  obedience.  The  world  may  commend 
them  as  rational,  moderate,  and  Christian ;  but 
the  sanctity  of  apostles,  prophets,  martyrs,  and 
saints,  of  all  kindreds,  and  nations,  and  ages, — the 
full  breadth  of  the  life  of  the  Spirit  is  built  on 
this  one  law   of  grace   alone:  —  they   served   God 


VII.]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  131 

with  a  will  free  and  powerful,  as  sons  adopted  in 
the  Spirit  of  the  Son  of  God. 

We  see,  then,  our  calling.  Our  only  pattern 
is  the  life  of  our  Lord  :  and  by  His  spiritual  grace 
we  may  be  like  Him  if  we  will.  Let  us  not 
weaken  ourselves  by  taking  a  lower  standard  :  for 
we  shall  come  short  enough  through  our  own  in- 
firmity. Pray  for  His  daily  help,  that  you  may 
strive  and  watch  as  long  as  you  are  conscious  of 
any  warp  or  bias  which  draws  your  will  from  the 
directness  of  its  intention.  If,  by  God's  mercy, 
you  are  free  from  grosser  vices,  yet  the  world 
and  the  customs  of  life,  the  influence  of  your  em- 
ployment and  your  relaxations,  the  temper  and 
dispositions  which  seem  born  in  us,  will  make  I'or 
you  many  temptations,  and  cast  many  fetters  u[)oii 
your  will.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  truly  free  ; 
to  have  no  master  but  One  in  heaven. 

llemember,  then,  that  as  you  are  under  the 
law  of  liberty,  so  by  that  law  you  nmst  be  judg(Ml. 
And  thnt  judgment  will  be  not  by  the  letter  of  tlie 
decalogue,  nor  by  a  scanty  and  measured  rule  ;  but 
by  your  gifts  and  blessings,  by  your  opportunities 
and  powers,  by  the  grace  of  sonship,  and  the  law 
of  filial  obedience.  Wben  you  are  tempted,  say, 
*'  Shall  I,  the  frecuKni  of  Christ,  iiinkc  iiiNscIf  tli(> 
servant  of  tlic  world?  From  ;i  cliild  shall  I  a;4aiii 
become  a  slave  ?"     It  is   only   one    stroke   tliat   is 


13*2  THE  FREEDOM   OF  [Serm. 

needed  to  set  us  at  large  from  most  of  our  temp- 
tations. If  we  had  faith  to  be  bold,  we  should 
strike  it,  and  go  free. 

But  that  you  may  be  weaned  from  the  world 
which  fascinates  your  hearts,  pray  for  the  love  of 
God  ;  pray  that  He  will  shed  abroad  in  your  hearts 
a  consciousness  of  His  unspeakable  love  to  you, 
and  make  you  delight  in  His  love  as  your  su- 
preme and  exceeding  joy.  This  will  make  all  evil 
hateful  to  you :  every  thought  and  shadow  of  sin 
will  fall  with  a  sensible  pain  upon  your  conscience. 
The  light  and  paltry  things  of  the  world  will  be 
tasteless  and  irksome.  Even  the  dearest  affections 
will  be,  not  destroyed,  God  forbid,  but  taken  up 
into  a  higher  and  more  blissful  love.  Why  is  self- 
denial  bitter,  but  because  our  hold  on  what  we  love 
is  so  tenacious  ?  If  we  loved  Him  more,  we  should 
let  these  fall  from  us,  that  we  mioht  delisfht  our- 
selves  above  all  in  God.  Even  the  sharpness  of 
the  Cross  would  be  sacred  and  sweet.  Every  act 
of  a  will  which  is  like  unto  His  will.  Who,  of  His 
own  free  choice,  "  offered  Himself  without  spot  to 
God,"  would  bring  a  sensible  accession  of  happi- 
ness and  peace.  What  do  our  heavy  hearts  prove 
but  that  other  things  are  sweeter  to  us  than  His 
will  ;  that  we  have  not  attained  to  the  full 
mastery  of  our  true  freedom,  the  full  perception 
of  its  power  ;  that  our  sonship  is  still  but  faintlv 


VII.]  THE  REGENERATE  WILL.  133 

realised,  and  its  blessedness  not  yet  proved  and 
known  ?  An  active  and  ardent  love  of  God  would 
make  all  things  easy  both  to  do  and  suffer.  Dis- 
appointment, pain,  and  affliction  are  hard  to  bear, 
because  He  has  one  will  and  we  have  another. 
We  suffer,  but  not  willingly ;  and  this  collision  is 
the  cause  of  all  distress.  Our  consent  would  turn 
all  our  trials  into  obedience.  By  consenting  we 
make  them  our  own,  and  offer  them  with  ourselves 
again  to  Him. 

A  little  while,  and  the  mystery  of  this  disor- 
dered world  will  be  accomplished  :  our  deliverance 
will  be  fulfilled,  and  the  number  of  the  elect  be 
full.  Then  shall  all  be  made  perfect.  They  who 
are  waiting  in  the  rest  beyond  the  grave ;  they 
who  shall  be  quick  on  earth  at  His  coming ;  they 
and  we,  if  we  be  faithful,  shnll  be  clothed  upon 
with  lif(3  —  with  a  spiritual  body,  with  the  glory  of 
the  resurrection ;  and  the  whole  creation  shall  be 
delivered  from  the  bondage  of  the  fall.  There 
shall  be  no  more  travailing  in  pain ;  no  more 
tokens  of  sin  on  the  creatures  of  God  ;  no  more 
death.  Every  scar  shall  hv.  smoothed  out,  and 
every  soil  cleansed  away  at  His  coming  and  His 
kingdom,  when  tin;  new  creation  sh.ill  rise  out  of 
the  old,  and  the  morning  stars  shall  sing  together, 
and  all  the  sons  of  God  shall  shout  for  joy. 


SEKMON  YIIL 


SLO\YXESS  IN  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE. 


Psalm  cxix.  25. 
"  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust." 

These  words  express  with  great  intensity  of  humi- 
liation a  consciousness  which  is  universal  among  all 
sincere  Christians.  I  mean,  the  power  of  the  world 
and  of  the  body  over  the  soul.  Such  people  de- 
sire to  serve  God  with  a  free,  growing,  spiritual 
service  ;  but  they  often  feel  impotent,  slothful,  and 
sluggish.  They  strive,  but  make  no  speed ;  toil, 
but  make  little  way :  they  feel  as  if  they  were  laden 
with  a  great  weight,  and  that  weight  were  power- 
fully attracted  to  the  earth ;  and  the  earth  clings 
to  them,  and  they  to  it,  as  by  a  kindred  nature. 
In  all  their  sorrows,  joys,  thoughts,  cares,  hopes, 
labours  of  this  world,  they  feel  vivid,  quick,  and 
untiring ;  as  a  bark  upon  the  sea,  which,  in  all  its 
wanderings  and  flights,  is  never  weary  :  but  in  the 
service  of  God,  in  obedience,  repentance,  prayer, 


Serm.  YIIL]  THE  SPIRITUAL   LIFE.  ISo 

love,  worship,  they  move  with  a  dull,  heavy  pace. 
They  are  conscious  that  earth  has  more  part  in 
them  than  heaven ;  for  out  of  the  dust  were  we 
taken,  and  dust  we  are.  And  so,  says  the  Book 
of  Wisdom,  "  the  corruptible  body  presseth  down 
the  soul,  and  the  earthly  tabernacle  wcif>hcth  down 
the  mind  that  museth  on  many  things."^  The 
more  they  are  awakened  to  the  knowledge  of  God, 
the  more  they  feel  their  tardiness  of  spirit.  But 
this  does  not  arise  only  from  the  sympathy,  so  to 
speak,  between  our  nature  and  the  dust,  of  which, 
in  the  beginning,  we  were  made  ;  for  a  sinless  hu- 
manity would  cleave  not  to  the  dust,  but  to  God. 
It  has  a  special  token  of  the  fall  in  it.  The  con- 
summation of  this  fallen  sympathy  is  the  wages  of 
sin,  that  is,  death  itself;  "unto  dust  shalt  thou 
return."  The  curse  laid  upon  the  serpent  is  a 
proof  of  this  :  "  And  the  Lord  God  said  unto  the 
serpent.  Because  thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art 
cursed  above  all  cattle,  and  above  every  beast  of 
the  field  ;  upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and  dust 
shalt  thou  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life."-  And  this 
original  curse  is  not  taken  off  from  him  even  in 
the  redeemed  world  :  wluii  all  (creation  shall  have 
peace,  yet  still,  as  the  Lord  said  by  Isaiah,  "  dust 
shall  be  the  serpent's  meat  ;"'^  that  is,  humiliation 
and  banishment  from  God.    This  slowness  and  slng- 

'  Wisdom  ix.  15.  '^  Gen.  iii.  14.  •'  Is.  Ixv.  25. 


130  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

gishness,  therefore,  in  spiritual  obedience,  is  a  spe- 
cial proof  of  the  power  of  the  fall  still  abiding  upon 
us,  and  of  our  proneness  to  linger  and  hold  fast 
by  earth  and  its  attractions.  We  will  not,  how- 
ever, go  into  so  large  a  subject  as  this  opens,  but 
take  only  one  point  in  it ;  I  mean,  the  slowness 
of  spiritual  growth,  which  is  so  great  a  humiliation 
and  distress  to  sincere  minds,  or,  as  they  believe 
and  express  it,  the  stubborn  earthliness  of  their 
nature. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  this  is  not  often  a 
very  just  cause  of  distress  and  fear:  for  some  people 
practise  great  deceits  upon  themselves,  and,  while 
they  keep  up  a  round  of  religious  usages,  really  give 
themselves  a  full  and  unbridled  range  of  earthly 
pursuits,  enjoyments,  aims,  and  thoughts.  But  we 
will  not  speak  of  them,  nor  of  any  who  by  their 
own  inconsistency  and  indolence  hinder  the  gra- 
cious inspirations  and  workings  of  God  in  their 
hearts.  Let  us  take  only  the  case  of  those  who 
sincerely  and  faithfully  endeavour  to  follow  and 
comply  with  His  grace  in  them  ;  whose  pure  de- 
sire is  to  grow  in  the  spiritual  life  ;  and  whose 
chiefest  and  greatest  distress  is  the  consciousness 
of  manifold  hindrances,  obstinate  faults,  want  of 
religious  affections,  of  earnestness,  zeal,  persever- 
ance, delight  in  God,  and  the  like  ;  or,  in  one 
word,  of  the  little  advance  they  make  in  the  life 


VIII.]  THE  SriRITUAL  LIFE.  137 

of  spiritual  obedience.  No  words  give  fuller  ut- 
terance to  their  complaint  than  these :  "  My  soul 
cleaveth  unto  the  dust." 

1.  One  cause  of  this  disheartening  and  sadden- 
ing feeling  is,  that  people  aim  at  models  and 
examples  which  are  too  high  for  them.  It  may 
be  asked,  How  is  this  possible,  when  the  standard 
set  before  us  is  the  life  of  our  Lord,  Himself,  and 
He  with  His  own  mouth  said,  "Be  ye  therefore 
perfect,  even  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect  ?'" 
And  again,  St.  John  says,  "  every  man  that  hath 
this  hope  in  him  purificth  himself,  even  as  He  is 
pure  ;""  and  "he  that  doeth  righteousness  is  right- 
eous, even  as  He  is  righteous."'*  What  standard 
can  be  higher  than  this  ?  and  are  we  not,  by  Divine 
command,  bidden  to  aim  at  it  ? 

Now  we  must  distinguish  between  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  great  Example  which  it  is  our  duty  to 
imitate,  and  the  proportions  in  which  our  iutunl 
lot,  strength,  and  calling,  admit  of  such  an  imita- 
tion. Clearly  the  example  of  our  Lord  would  seem 
to  exact  of  us,  at  once,  to  be  no  less  than  sinless. 
But  no  one  so  understands  the  precept  of  imita- 
tion. Jt  lifts  nj)  a  pattern,  and  it  ])rescribes  a 
tendency,  which  is  to  govern  our  wliole  life.  But 
the  measures  and  proportions  in  which  that  ten- 
dency   may    be    realized    are     not    only    iiiJiuilcly 

1  St.  Matt.  V.  48.  -  1  St.  .h)hn  iii.  .'5.  •'  Ih.  7. 


l-'^S  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

various  in  detail,  but  are  no  less  ordained  and 
distributed  of  God  than  His  gifts  of  grace.  The 
apostles  He  called  to  the  closest  likeness  to  their 
Lord  in  holiness,  love,  suffering,  toil  for  His 
elect,  utter  forsaking  of  the  world,  and  even  to 
an  imitation  of  His  passion  :  so  also  all  martyrs, 
evangelists,  and  successors  of  the  apostles,  who 
have  been  called  out  of  the  world  to  convert  it, 
and  be  spent  for  it :  so  all  who  have  been  specially 
called  to  lives  of  sanctity,  to  a  full  devotion  of 
themselves,  for  life,  to  works  of  charity  and  mercy, 
to  labours  of  spiritual  learning,  prayer,  and  repent- 
ance :  and  in  like  manner  through  all  the  manifold 
shades  of  the  religious  life,  until  we  enter  upon 
the  confines  of  the  world  and  its  works,  its  powers 
and  offices,  households  and  homes.  "Every  man 
hath  his  proper  gift  of  God  :  one  after  this  man- 
ner, another  after  that."  Every  one  has  his  voca- 
tion ;  and  his  vocation  is  of  God.  Our  vocation 
is  the  measure  of  our  powers,  and  fixes  the  pro- 
portions of  our  duty.  This  is  the  first  thing  to 
be  tried  and  ascertained.  When  any  are  called 
wholly  to  forsake  the  world,  their  duty  is  plain. 
They  are  set  to  imitate  the  life  of  Christ  with  all 
their  strength,  and  with  all  possible  conformity  of 
inward  and  outward  circumstance.  This  applies 
chiefly  and  directly  to  pastors  who  are  united  to 
the  Chief  Shepherd  in  His  work  of  love  and  self- 


VIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  139 

denial.  It  is  true,  also,  of  great  multitudes  who 
are,  by  God's  loving  tenderness,  called  to  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  a  devout  life  of  prayer  and  mercy, 
sheltered  from  distraction.  But  the  rest, — that  is, 
the  great  body  of  the  visible  Church,  with  whom 
we  have  now  to  do, — are  called  to  attain  each  one 
the  fullest  measure  he  can  of  the  mind  and  spirit 
of  Christ,  under  the  proportions  and  conditions  of 
his  state.  For  instance,  rulers,  statesmen,  minis- 
ters of  human  law,  merchants,  men  of  labour  and 
action,  of  business  and  the  arts  of  life,  parents, 
husbands  and  wives,  children  still  in  subjection, 
servants,  and  the  poor  of  Christ's  flock  —  all  these 
are  limited  and  restrained  by  a  multitude  of  neces- 
sities :  they  are  perpetually  under  a  "  present  dis- 
tress ;"  and  they  must  serve  their  state,  and  through 
their  state  serve  God.  This  makes  many  things 
impossible  to  them,  many  things  disproportioncd 
to  their  vocation  ;  and  to  such  things  they  are 
therefore  not  called. 

One  remark  is  to  be  made  on  all  this.  Tlierc 
is  one  cvaniple  for  all,  the  life  of  Christ  ;  one 
iendencji  wholly  unlimited,  in  the  direction  of 
which  all  must  press  towards  His  exami)le ;  but 
the  standard,  that  is,  the  manner  and  nicasurc  in 
which  we  are  permitted  to  advance  in  that  It'ii- 
dency,  is  of  Ciorl.  He  proportions  it  by  His  i)n)- 
vidence  and   His  grace.      All  we  can  do,   and   the 


110  SLOWNESS  IN  [StRM. 

holiest  tiling-  we  can  do,  is  to  apply  and  mould  our- 
selves entirely  upon  the  lot  He  has  meted  out  to 
us.  For  in  so  doing,  it  is  impossible  to  say  what 
Christians  may  not  attain.  There  is  a  Divine 
mystery  and  paradox  about  our  probation  :  so  that 
some  who  are  called  to  the  lives  of  apostles  may 
be  lowest  in  the  imitation  of  Christ ;  and  some 
who  are  called  to  the  service  of  the  world  are 
closest  in  their  likeness  to  His  perfection.  The 
tendency,  therefore,  is  the  same  in  all ;  the  grace 
and  power  of  indefinite  advance  is  offered  to  all ; 
to  decline  it,  or  to  use  it  slackly,  to  be  wanting 
on  our  part  in  zeal  and  perseverance,  is  our  sin. 
And  yet,  after  all,  there  are  mysteries  of  propor- 
tion and  vocation,  which  flow  from  the  fountain  of 
all  mystery,  the  election  of  God  ;  thither  we  may 
trace  them  upward,  but  there  we  must  stay  our 
search,  and  worship  Him  in  love  and  silence. 

The  practical  rule,  therefore,  to  be  drawn  from 
this  is,  that  we  ought  to  measure  our  actual  lot, 
and  to  fulfil  it ;  to  be  with  all  our  strength  that 
which  our  lot  requires  and  allows.  What  is  be- 
yond it,  is  no  calling  of  ours.  How  much  peace, 
quiet,  confidence,  and  strength,  would  people  at- 
tain, if  they  would  go  by  this  plain  rule.  We 
read  in  the  lives  of  great  servants  of  God,  how 
they  fasted,  prayed,  and  laboured  ;  how  many 
dangers   they  encountered,   sought,   and  suffered  ; 


VIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  ll-l 

how  many  works  of  love  they  fulfilled  ; — how  many 
difficulties  they  overcame ;  and  our  heads  are  some- 
times turned  with  a  wish  to  do  the  like.  Or,  to 
bring  this  nearer  home ;  we  see  persons  called 
out  from  common  duties  and  relations,  gifted  with 
aptitudes  and  powers,  placed  in  the  midst  of  ripe 
opportunities,  devising  and  accomplishing  works  of 
charity,  piety,  and  mercy ;  and  we  are  moved  with 
a  desire  to  bid  farewell  to  our  homes,  and  dis- 
quieted with  the  thought  that  we  are  doing  no- 
thin<f,  so  lonff  as  we  are  not  like  them.  We  for^-et 
the  parable  of  the  talents,  and  Who  it  is  that  both 
distributes  them  and  will  take  account.  Now  this 
is  one  very  common  and  very  needless  cause  of 
discomfort  to  sincere  people ;  and  perhaps  chiefly 
to  the  most  sincere,  who,  as  they  have  a  more  car- 
nest  desire  to  advance,  have  also  a  (quicker  sym- 
pathy with  higher  and  more  devout  examples.  AVe 
may  take,  then,  this  comfort,  that  the  standards  or 
visible  forms  of  the  spiritual  life  arc  various,  and 
are  appointed  to  us  by  God  Himself;  and  that 
the  power  of  tending  towards  the  perfect  holiness 
of  Christ  is  as  full  and  unlimited  to  us  in  our 
commonplace  life,  as  it  could  he  in  any  otiicr  ;  nav, 
is  more  certainly  free  to  ns  in  that  way  of  \\{\\ 
because  it  is  oin*  own,  that  is,  because  so  iun]  has 
ordained  it  for  us. 

52.  But  perhaps  it  may  be  said,  "  This   is  not 


142  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

my  distress.  I  have  no  desire  to  go  out  of  my  lot 
into  disproportioned  habits ;  but  I  do  not  comply 
with  this  tendency  of  which  you  speak.  This  is 
the  point  where  I  '  cleave  to  the  dust.'  I  make  no 
advance  in  the  spiritual  life."  In  answer  it  may 
be  said,  that  we  are  too  hasty  in  looking  for  signs 
of  advancement.  In  one  sense,  indeed,  we  cannot 
be  too  impatient ;  I  mean,  we  cannot  too  much 
desire  to  become  sinless.  But  whatever  may  be 
our  desire,  patience  is  our  duty.  The  dealings  of 
God  are  wonderful.  "  The  husbandman  waiteth 
for  the  precious  fruit  of  the  earth,  and  hath  long 
patience  for  it,  until  he  receive  the  early  and  latter 
rain."'  God  has  a  seed-time,  and  a  burial,  some- 
times long  and  strange,  of  the  germs  of  spiritual 
life,  before  the  feast  of  in-gathering  is  fully  come. 
What  a  miracle  is  the  gift  of  regeneration,  which 
awaits  its  ripeness  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrec- 
tion !  What  to  all  eyes  more  sickly  than  the  soul, 
more  dead  than  the  body  ?  So  through  all  our  spi- 
ritual life  there  is  an  order  and  a  cycle  of  seasons 
and  changes — "  seed-time  and  harvest,  and  cold  and 
heat,  and  summer  and  winter,  and  day  and  night."^ 
All  things  move  on  in  a  procession  of  measured 
and  temperate  advance,  obeying  some  eternal  law 
of  the  Divine  will,  adjusted  to  the  conditions  of  the 
Divine  image  as  it  is  in  us ;  and  by  this  law  all 

1  fcjt.  James  v.  7.  ^  Gen.  viii.  22. 


VIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  143 

anomalies  will  be  one  day  solved.  The  Divine  hand 
never  moves  like  ours,  in  a  lawless  haste.  Even 
seeming  exceptions  have  their  proper  laws,  unknown 
to  us.  For  it  is  most  true  that  sometimes  it  has 
pleased  God  to  anticipate  in  a  moment  of  time,  (as 
when,  by  one  act,  lie  created  the  fruit-tree  having 
its  seed  in  itself,)  the  growth  and  ripeness  of 
years  :  such  was  the  repentance  of  David,  the  bitter 
weeping  of  St.  Peter,  the  conversion  of  St.  Paul. 
So,  a  single  word,  or  a  moment  of  intense  agony,  or 
the  aspect  of  a  holy  countenance,  or  realities  which, 
as  this  world  neither  sees  or  knows,  so  neither  will 
it  believe,  have  been  known  to  work  at  once  the 
perfect  and  abiding  conversion  of  a  sinner.  But 
such  things  in  the  spiritual  world  are  as  lightning 
in  the  world  of  nature.  The  day  and  the  night 
arc  not  illuminated  by  sudden  streams  of  fire,  ])ut 
by  steady  lights,  and  by  their  slow  gradual  ascents. 
This  reveals  the  gentleness,  as  the  other  the  so- 
vereignty, of  God.  It  is  by  tliis  same  even  and 
stedfast  law,  that  the  spiritual  world,  or  the  sanc- 
tification  of  the  soul  in  man,  advances  to  its  ripe- 
ness. We  must  not  look  out  for  the  harvest  wIkmi 
we  have  only  cast  the  seed,  nor  for  the  vintage 
when  we  have  but  yesterday  bound  nj)  the  vines. 
'^rhv  sin  tliat  dwells  in  us  is  strong  and  stid)l)()rn, 
and  the  very  law  of  our  sanctification  is,  I  hat  we 
should  be  cleansed  iVoin   it  through  (he  persevering 


Ill*  SLOWNESS  1>J  [SiiRM. 

striigo'le  of  our  will,  and  the  entire  hatred  of  our 
spiritual  nature.  God  does  not  cleanse  us  as  if  we 
were  dead  and  passive.  Perhaps  this  would  best 
suit  our  indolence,  but  not  our  destiny  of  bliss. 
He  made  us  without  our  act  ;  but  He  will  not 
save  us  unless  we  be  fellow-workers  together  with 
Him.  For  when  He  made  us,  "man  became/' — 
not  a  clod  of  helpless,  lifeless  earth,  but  "  a  liv- 
ing- soul.'"  This  is  our  wonderful  being  ;  and  this 
shews  why  sloth  is  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins. 
It  is  the  direct  abdication  of  living  powers,  of 
the  living  soul  given  to  us  of  God.  It  is  spiritual 
suicide,  a  wilful  return  into  dust  and  death.  This, 
then,  gives  us  the  law  of  our  probation,  and  re- 
veals to  us  why  all  growth  in  grace  is  slow  ;  be- 
cause it  is  to  be  attained  by  the  progressive  and 
persevering  action  of  our  moral  nature,  under  the 
conditions  of  the  fall,  and  against  the  antagonist 
powers  of  temptation.  There  are,  without  doubt, 
deeper  reasons  still,  which  we  shall  one  day  know  ; 
for  we  mistake  in  thinking  that  perfection  is  to 
be  found  only  in  the  ultimate  form  and  fulness  of 
any  creature.  Every  stage  has  its  perfect  beauty  ; 
as  childhood,  youth,  and  manhood.  Indeed,  what 
is  the  fulness  of  the  creature  ?  what  ultimate  and 
changeless  form  has  any  finite  being  ?  Our  per- 
fection, it  may  be,  is  eternal  growth ;  everlasting 
1  Gen.  ii.  7. 


Vm.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  1  1-5 

approach  to  the  Infinite,  which  is  for  ever  inac- 
cessible. So  it  is  in  tlic  life  of  grace.  The  stages 
of  trial  have,  we  may  believe,  each  one  of  them, 
a  peculiar  character  and  acceptance  in  the  sight  of 
God. 

But  besides  this,  there  are  some  very  clear 
and  open  reasons  why  our  growth  is  suffered  to  be 
slow.  Nothing  so  hiys  the  axe  to  the  root  of  pride. 
We  would  fain  be  to-day  as  pure  as  angels  ;  but 
before  to-morrow,  it  may  be,  we  should  lift  up  oui-- 
selves  as  Satan.  The  consciousness  of  sin  is  very 
galling  and  humbling  ;  we  chafe  and  complain  of 
it :  but  is  all  this  trouble  a  sincere  and  tranquil 
sorrow  from  the  pure  love  of  God  ?  By  no  means. 
Sin  betrays  us  into  a  thousand  faults,  and  into 
habitual  follies  ;  it  hurts  our  self-love,  and  morti- 
fies our  vanity.  It  would  be  so  graceful  to  be  a 
saint ;  so  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  others  ;  so  soothing 
to  ourselves.  Oh,  the  depth  of  the  craft  and  of  the 
wiles  of  the  Devil  I  Even  our  holier  aspirations 
he  taints,  and  turns  against  our  souls.  There  is 
infinite  compassion  and  infinite  care  in  leaving  our 
sins  to  be  our  shame  and  scourge  ;  lest  God's  best 
gifts  should  be  our  snare,  and  life  itself  our  death. 
Truly  our  souls  cleave  unto  the  dust,  not  as  we 
complain,  but  as  wc;  are  little  aware.  We  uro 
often  most  earthly  when  we  believe  ourselves  to  be 
most   spiritual.      So  hard   is  it   to  oj)cn   our  ears. 

VOL.  in,  L 


146  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

Well  might  the  prophet  cry  thrice,  "  O  earth, 
earth,  earth,  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord.'"  The 
faults  and  inward  temptations  which  still  cleave  to 
us  are,  doubtless,  a  lighter  evil  and  a  less  dan- 
ger than  elation  and  self-confidence.  We  do  not 
make  advances  in  zeal,  fervour,  devotion,  charity, 
self-denial ;  and  we  complain  of  it.  Of  whom  do 
we  complain?  Not  of  God,  for  He  gives  more 
grace  than  we  ever  take  and  use ;  not  of  Satan, 
for  that  would  be  to  accuse  our  probation  ;  not 
of  sin,  for  it  is  an  abstraction,  and  has  no  per- 
sonal existence  ;  not  of  ourselves,  because  we  are 
the  supposed  complainants.  What,  then,  is  our 
complaint  ?  It  is,  that  we  are  what  we  are.  But 
complaints  will  not  make  us  better ;  they  will  not 
increase  our  faith,  deepen  our  humility,  quicken 
our  hope,  break  our  pride  ;  for  no  man  ever  yet 
became  humble  only  by  complaining ;  and  the  one 
and  only  cure  which  can  break  our  pride  would 
also  take  away  our  complaints  ;  and  that  is,  true 
humility,  and  a  perfect  conformity  to  the  will  of 
God  ;  enduring  and  rejoicing  to  be  just  as  He 
would  have  us  ;  and  believing  that  whatsoever  mes- 
senger of  Satan  buffet  us.  His  grace  is  sufficient  for 
our  stay.  This,  then,  is  a  direct  answer  for  all  sin- 
cere minds.  Persevere  in  patience  and  obedience, 
and  cast  "  all  your  care  upon  Him."     "  Take  no 

'  Jer.  xxii.  29. 


VIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  147 

thought  for  the  morrow."  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  evil  thereof."  Get  the  day  well  over  and 
done  with  an  upright  and  open  heart,  and  leave  to- 
morrow and  growth  to  Him  who  alone  "  giveth  the 
increase."  Do  not  be  cast  down  because  you  feel 
no  religious  emotions, — such  as  warmth  of  thank- 
fulness and  kindling-  of  love  to  God,  peace,  de- 
light in  prayer,  and  the  like.  This  is  very  blessed, 
when  God  sees  good  to  give  it ;  but  there  is  some- 
thing better  for  us,  and  more  pleasing  to  Him  ; 
and  that  is,  persevering  obedience,  patience  in 
prayer  and  praise,  under  discouragements,  infirm- 
ity, and  darkness,  even  as  if  we  were  forsaken.  He 
loves  our  love,  but  He  loves  our  persevering  trust 
above  all  our  sensible  emotions.  The  deepest 
teachers  in  this  high  wisdom  bid  all  sincere 
Christians  to  be  thankful  when  they  arc  led  ra- 
ther by  this  path  of  the  Cross,  though  they  seem 
to  cleave  painfully  to  its  rugged  ways,  than  b\ 
the  smoother  and  brifrhter  avenues  of  His  kin^j-- 
dom.  Leave  all  this  in  His  hand.  The  cup  and 
the  baptism  are  of  His  sole  dispensing.  W  we 
choose,  it  may  be,  we  shall  even  bv  <hnosing  do 
amiss. 

3.  But  ])crhaps  it  will  be  said  again,  "  This 
would  !)('  all  very  well,  if  I  were  not  conscious  of 
positive;  faults,  and  sometimes  even  of  falling  back 
into    those    of  which    I   haw    ri'pcnlcd.      It    i^    iMtt 


148  SLOWNESS  IN  [SiiKM. 

only  that  I  do  not  advance  in  devotion,  but  I  am 
still  in  '  the  dust  of  death  :'  positive  evils  are  alive 
within  me,  and  I  often  see  them  even  more  ac- 
tive than  before."  Now  this  may  be,  and  will  be 
true,  if  we  give  over  to  watch,  and  to  obey  the 
light  of  conscience.  But,  speaking  still  to  sincere 
minds,  it  may  be  said,  that  we  are  no  sure  judges 
of  this  matter.  A  growing  consciousness  of  sin 
is  no  certain  sign  of  growing  sinfulness ;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  a  probable  sign  of  growing  sanctifi- 
cation  :  as  sinfulness  grows,  insensibility  increases  ; 
as  the  soul  is  sanctified,  its  keen  discernment  of 
sin  is  strengthened  and  enlarged.  At  first  sight, 
then,  it  is  more  probable  that  the  very  cause  of 
complaint  ought  to  be  a  cause  of  encouragement. 
For  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  the  same  Will 
which,  in  wisdom,  has  ordained  the  law  of  slow 
growth  for  our  spiritual  life,  has  also,  in  love,  or- 
dained a  slow  perception  of  our  sinfulness.  Some 
have  ventured  to  pray  without  limitation  and  with- 
out fear,  that  God  would  shew  them  their  inward 
sinfulness  as  He  sees  it :  a  prayer  well  intended, 
but  withal  very  rash.  It  shews  how  little  we  know 
of  the  hatefulness  of  sin  in  the  sight  of  God  ; 
how  faint  a  consciousness  we  have  of  our  own 
deformity.  If  such  a  prayer  were  granted,  if  we 
could  see  ourselves  as  an  object  of  sight  in  all  the 
leprosy  and  death  of  our  sin,   we  should  perhaps 


VIII.]  THE  SPIRITUAL   LITE.  149 

perish  in  despair.  Nothing-  but  a  divine  eye,  or  an 
eye  pure  from  sin,  can  look  without  fear  and  peril 
upon  such  a  vision  of  horror  as  a  soul  fallen  from 
God.  Our  faith,  hope,  and  love,  are  so  feeble,  that 
a  revelation  of  what  we  are,  would  perhaps  drive 
us  to  the  end  of  Judas,  and  give  us  our  portion 
with  him  in  *'  his  own  place."  It  would  seem  in- 
credible to  believe,  impossible  to  hope  in  forgive- 
ness, and  fear  would  cast  out  love.  Now,  in  this 
there  is  great  and  tender  compassion  ;  it  is  only 
little  by  little,  in  measure  and  gentle  degrees,  that 
He  reveals  to  us  what  we  are  in  His  eyes ;  and 
even  that  He  makes  known  by  giving  us  His  grace, 
so  that  we  see  what  we  are  as  we  cease  so  to  be. 
AVe  see  ourselves  in  reflection,  cast  behind  us,  as 
the  reality  passes  away ;  we  discern  what  we  xacre 
by  becoming  what  we  are.  Of  what  we  were,  and 
of  what  we  see,  we  have  indeed  a  consciousness  by 
way  of  recollection  ;  but  what  we  arc,  by  God's 
mercy  to  us,  is  never  fully  realised.  Sickness  is 
full  of  self,  but  health  has  no  self-contemplation. 
Therefore,  let  it  be  supposed  that  we  do  far  more 
clearly  see,  fiir  more  keenly  Jeel  our  sinfulness  ; 
that  is  not  a  proof  that  wc  are  more  sinful,  no,  nor 
tlijit  wc  are  still  as  sinful  as  Ix-forc ;  but  r;itlu>r 
that  an  awakened  discernment,  and  jiii  iutciiser 
hatred  of  evil  issuinf,^  froiii  n  rciil  endownuMit  of 
Divine  grace,  has   ruadc   us  perc('i\c  witli  ;i   Inicr 


loO  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

and    fuller   sense    the    sins   which    once   were    our 
own. 

This  will  be  clearer  by  examples.  What  re- 
veals our  pride,  and  makes  us  hate  it,  but  the 
beginnings  of  humility  ?  What  makes  anger  a 
torment,  but  the  love  of  meekness  ?  What  makes 
self-indulgence  contemptible,  but  a  desire  to  suffer 
hardship  ?  What  makes  want  of  love,  or  cold- 
ness in  prayer,  an  affliction,  but  a  sense  of  the 
blessedness  of  God's  presence  ?  W^hat  makes  the 
thought  of  declension,  or  standing  still,  or  cleav- 
ing to  the  dust,  to  be  a  misery  and  a  sorrow, 
but  the  aspiration  of  a  heart  quickened  with  the 
spirit  of  perseverance,  and  panting  to  press  on- 
ward to  the  face  of  God  ?  This  is  the  secret 
way  in  which  the  presence  of  God,  sanctifying  the 
soul  in  man,  reveals  Itself ;  not  by  direct  self- 
manifestation,  but  by  its  effects.  As  in  sight  and 
hearing :  we  perceive  external  objects,  and  not  our 
own  faculties :  the  eye  does  not  see  itself,  but  lights 
and  shades ;  the  ear  does  not  hear  itself,  but  har- 
monies and  discords;  still  less  can  the  eye  or  ear 
perceive  the  true  percipient  within,  which  is  our- 
selves. So  is  it  with  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God.  He 
reveals  all  things  besides,  while  He  conceals  Him- 
self. He  reveals  past  sins  of  thought,  word,  and 
deed  :  the  unholincss  of  childhood,  youth,  and  after 
years  ;  present  sinfulness  of  imagination,  heart,  and 


MIL]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  lol 

will  ;  pride,  hardness,  impurity,  impatience,  sloth, 
softness,  anger,  want  of  zeal,  thankfulness,  love, 
and  devotion  :  all  these  He  sets  before  the  soul  in 
clear  array.  But  He  hides  meekness,  gentleness, 
self-mistrust,  self-contempt,  charity,  sorrow  for  sin, 
self-accusation,  and  the  like ;  these  things  are  most 
hidden  from  those  who  have  them  in  the  largest 
measures.  They  are  seen  of  angels,  confessed  by 
men  ;  but  unknown,  disbelieved  by  those  in  whom 
they  dwell ;  the  gift  of  humility  by  itself  alone  con- 
ceals them  all  :  so  that  such  persons  are  sure  to 
think  themselves  to  be  the  least  advanced,  who, 
in  truth,  are  most  advanced  ;  as  they  are  ever  the 
first  who  believe  themselves  to  be  the  last.  Speak- 
ing, then,  still  of  sincere  Christians,  it  may  be 
said  that  these  complaints  of  conscious  and  abiding 
faults,  so  long  as  they  are  not  willingly  indulged, 
and  this  increased  sense  of  inward  sinfulness,  is  no 
siiin  of  cleaviii''-  to  the  dust ;  but  rather  that  God 
in  love  is  drawin<»:  them  on.  He  is  makin<»'  known 
to  them  the  fall  as  it  exists  in  their  inmost  lile, 
in  prelude  to  making  them  conscious  partakers  of 
the  bliss  for  which  they  are  already  unconsciously 
being  pre})arcd. 

But  as  the  whole  of  this  subject  is  so  nearly 
akin  to  llie  dangers  of  a  self-contemplative  state, 
tlie  surest  and  best  remedy  for  such  complaints 
will    be    found    in    ))ractical    rules  ;    (»!'    whicli    lli<' 


IdQ  SLOWNESS   IN  [Serm. 

two  following    may,   by   God's  blessing,    be  found 
useful. 

1.  The  first  is,  to  reduce  our  self-examina- 
tion to  definite  points.  It  is  a  hurtful  mistake 
to  give  way  to  feelings  which  have  no  definite 
and  ascertained  foundation  ;  by  which  I  mean, 
general  feelings  of  dissatisfaction  with  our  state  ; 
vague  discomfort  at  what  we  have  been,  or  still 
are ;  excited  emotions  as  to  our  coldness,  dead- 
ness,  insensibility,  and  so  on.  Like  sweeping  con- 
fessions, these  are  of  little  use,  spring  from  no 
real  self-knowledge,  and  issue  in  no  real  amend- 
ment. The  only  feelings  which  are  good  and 
trustworthy  are  those  which  arise  upon  definite 
and  certain  facts,  either  of  our  past  life  or  of  our 
present  consciousness.  These  are  penitential ;  the 
others  seldom  or  never  really  are.  For  repent- 
ance is  sorrow  founded  on  the  consciousness  of 
distinct  acts  of  sin.  The  best  and  safest  course, 
then,  is  to  confine  our  self-examination,  at  least 
for  awhile,  to  particular  points ;  and  for  a  time 
to  cast  aside  all  other  feelings  and  thoughts  about 
ourselves.  Now  the  proper  subjects  of  repent- 
ance and  confession  are  chiefly  these  :  definite  acts 
of  sin,  whether  in  deed,  in  word,  or  in  thought, 
in  which  there  has  been  a  full  and  deliberate 
consent  of  the  will.  It  is  this  consent  which 
constitutes  the  act ;   the  form  of  it  is  indifi'crcnt. 


VIII.]  THE   SPIUITUAI.  LIFE.  153 

Whether  it  issue  in  deed  or  in  word  is  all  one  ; 
and  whether  it  issue  outwardly  or  be  suppressed 
within,  as  in  thought,  yet  if  the  will  deliberately 
consent,  it  is  all  the  same.  Our  will  is  our  moral 
nature,  as  our  life  is  our  natural  beins".  All  cir- 
cumstances  or  consequences  are  only  the  modes 
of  its  acting,  or  the  forms  of  its  manifestation. 
A  proud  act,  a  proud  word,  or  a  proud  thought, 
deliberately  indulged,  all  alike  make  us  guilty  of 
pride,  though  not  in  equal  degrees.  It  is  bad  to 
harbour  the  thought,  worse  to  indulge  it  in  word, 
and  worst  of  all  in  act ;  but  these  differ  not  in 
kind,  but  only  in  degree.  This  applies  equally  to 
every  kind  of  sin.  If  we  can  trace  any  of  these  in 
ourselves,  they  are  tokens  of  cleaving  to  the  dust, 
and  subjects  worthy  of  sorrow.  But  it  is  vague 
and  useless  to  complain  generally,  that  we  are 
proud,  and  the  like  ;  for  that  really,  in  the  end, 
only  leads  us  away  from  specific  self-examination 
and  specific  repentance.  But  besides  these  three 
degrees  of  sin,  there  is  still  another  over  which  we 
must  watch,  and  that  is,  wrong  fecUug^a  indulged 
for  any  length  of  time.  It  is  impossible  (o  iix  a 
measun;  of  time  hv  liojirs  oi"  minutes  ;  (or  the  acts 
of  our  moral  nature  eaiiiiot  be  told  upon  a  dial. 
i)Ut  if  we  sMflei'  these  feelings  lo  dwell  in  us  long 
enough  lor  us  t(»  I'efleet  upon  lliem,  tlie\  hecome 
deliberate,   ;ind    >o    tend    to    liecome    li;d»itual.      As 


154  SLOWNESS  IN  [Serm. 

such  they  arc  a  direct  resistance  to  the  Spirit  of 
love,  joy,  and  peace ;  and,  therefore,  become  actual 
sins  and  specific  matter  of  repentance.  Now  if  we 
can  trace  in  ourselves  the  increase  of  these  in- 
dulged feelings  in  frequency,  duration,  or  power, 
we  may  justly  fear  that  we  are  not  advancing. 
But  if  not,  then  let  all  other  feelings  of  fear,  dis- 
couragement, and  sadness,  be  cast  away  as  tempta- 
tions against  faith,  hope,  and  love,  the  three  great 
gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  the  three  fountains 
of  obedience  and  perseverance.  There  is  an  un- 
clean Spirit  of  sadness,  which  is  a  special  enemy 
of  Christians ;  and  the  most  subtil  of  all,  be- 
cause so  like  an  angel  of  light.  It  is  he  that 
comes  and  personates  the  angel  of  repentance, 
to  lead  us  into  deeps,  where  we  may  "  be  swal- 
lowed up  of  overmuch  sorrow."'  This  is  "  the 
sorrow  that  worketh  death  ;"^  but  "  vve  are  not 
ignorant  of  his  devices." 

'2.  And  then,  having  reduced  our  self-examina- 
tion to  definite  points,  let  us,  from  the  sins  we  have 
so  detected,  choose  out  some  one  against  which 
to  direct  our  chief  watchfulness  and  strenoth. 
Whatever  be  our  besetting  sin,  let  us  take  that ; 
be  it  our  worst,  or  our  oldest,  or  the  sin  we 
oftenest  commit.  With  that  for  awhile  let  our 
whole  contest  lie.  As  the  king  of  Syria  com- 
'  -2  Cor.  ii.  11.  -2  Cor.  vii.  10. 


VIII.]  THE   SriRITUAL   LIFE.  155 

maiided  the  captains  of  his  chariots,  *'  Fight  with 
neither  small  nor  great,  hut  only  with  the  king 
of  Israel;"'  so  let  us  turn  the  whole  of  our  care, 
watchfulness,  and  recollection,  upon  that  one.  The 
benefit  of  such  a  rule  is,  that  it  strengthens  our 
self-discipline,  by  bringing  it  all  to  bear  at  once 
upon  one  point.  Our  chief  danger  is  vagueness, 
and  the  weakness  of  wandering  up  and  down 
without  aim,  plan,  or  perseverance.  In  this  way 
we  shall  overcome  no  sin.  Like  an  army  making- 
scattered  and  unsupported  attacks  over  the  whole 
seat  of  war,  instead  of  concentratin<r  its  strenoth, 
by  solidity  and  unity  of  force,  for  some  decisive 
stroke  ;  so  when  people  try  to  overcome  all  their 
sins  at  once,  they  are  overcome  themselves  by 
each  in  turn.  And,  further :  the  self-discipline 
recjuired  to  conquer  one  sin  is  as  full  and  as  com- 
plete as  if  we  were  engaged  against  the  wliole 
array.  The  very  same  habits  of  mind  are  all 
called  into  action,  and  a  twofold  good  is  the  re- 
sult ;  first,  that  while  we  are  consciously  engaged 
only  with  one,  we  really  are,  at  the  sanK^  time, 
more  effectively  kee])ing  down  the  rest;  and  next, 
that  wlicii  one  is  mastered,  tin;  whole  principle 
of  self-discipline  has  gained  tlie  victory  over  tlie 
whole  prijici[)le  of  sin.  In  coiKjiiering  one,  we  li;ive 
virtually  con(|nered  ;ill.  In  lakinL;  lli(>  Miil:,  we 
'  1  Kiimi-  xxii.  .'51 . 


1.56  SLOWNESS  IN  [Seum. 

have  scattered  all  the  host.  Great  conversions 
even  of  hardened  sinners  have  been  wrought  by 
the  observance  of  a  single  rule.  We  read  of  some 
whose  whole  chanoe  of  life  began  bv  saving  once 
a-day,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ;"  or  by 
kissing-  the  ground  every  day,  and  saying,  "  To- 
morrow I  may  be  dead ; "  or  by  coming  to  a 
friend  or  spiritual  guide  every  time  they  com- 
mitted some  one  particular  sin ;  all  the  rest  being 
for  a  time  left  without  discipline,  and  seemingly, 
because  really  it  could  not  be,  without  care.  If, 
then,  people  would  take  selfishness,  or  personal 
vanity,  or  impatience  in  argument,  or  bitter  words 
against  others,  or  indulged  envy,  or  any  sin  of 
the  senses  or  of  the  thoughts,  or  the  like,  and 
whensoever  they  commit  it,  make  it  known  to 
some  one  whom  they  may  choose,  they  would  find, 
by  God's  grace,  that  their  whole  religious  life 
would  put  ofip  the  moody,  complaining,  dishearten- 
ing emotions  which  overcloud  their  faith,  and  be- 
come definite,  practical,  and  cheerful.  We  should 
then  have  a  mark  by  which  to  know  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide ;  and  we  should  leave  no  room  for 
temptations,  which,  when  they  sadden  our  hearts, 
shake  our  filial  trust  in  God. 

Of  course,  in  giving  these  two  rules  so  barelv 
and  nakedly,  I  leave  to  be  understood  all  that  be- 
longs to  the  higher  sources  of  help  and  strength. 


VIII]  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  1.57 

I  suppose  that  people  of  sincere  minds,  such  as 
I  have  spoken  of,  will  make  these  self-examina- 
tions and  confessions  on  their  knees,  and  that 
they  will  not  resolve  with  any  confidence  in  their 
own  power,  but  will  offer  their  resolutions  with 
special  prayers  for  aid,  at  some  solemn  time,  as  in 
the  Holy  Communion,  to  God.  Our  only  hope, 
not  only  of  advancement  in  the  spiritual  life,  but 
of  perseverance  and  of  stedfastness,  is  in  fellow- 
ship with  Ilim.  In  our  ignorance  we  know  not 
what  is  best  for  us.  "  There  be  many  that  say. 
Who  will  shew  us  any  good  ?'"  But  one  thing  we 
do  certainly  know  to  be  good :  "It  is  good  for 
me  to  hold  me  fast  by  God  ;"'  and  then  nothing 
can  fail.  Whatsoever  be  our  trial,  we  know  that 
*'  going  through  this  vale  of  misery,  we  may  use 
it  for  a  well,"  whereon  at  noon,  in  the  burden  of 
the  day,  as  at  Sychar,  we  may  sit  and  rest  with 
our  Lord ;  and  ihat,  by  Ilis  ])resonce  and  liclj), 
we  shall  "  go  from  strength  to  strength,  lill  \\r 
appear  every  one  of  us  before"  His  face  in  Ziou, 
For  lie  is  "  the  way"  foretold  by  the  ])roph('ts  : 
"  Thine  ears  shall  hear  a  word  behind  thee,  say- 
ing. This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it,  wIkmi  yc  turn 
to  the  riglit  liand,  and   wlicii   ye  tui-n  to  the  h-ft."' 

'  Ps.  iv.  a. 

-'  Ps.  Ixxiii.  '27,  PMilter  in  IJook  of  ('oiiniioii  I'riiycr. 

■'  Isaiah  xxx.  21 . 


15S  THE  SPIRITUAL  LIFE.  [Skrm.VIII. 

For  "  an  highway  shall  be  there,  and  a  way,  and 
it  shall  be  called  The  way  of  holiness ;  the  un- 
clean shall  not  pass  over  it ;  but  it  shall  be  for 
those :  the  wayfaring  men,  though  fools,  shall  not 
err  therein.'" 

^  Isaiah  xxxv.  8. 


SERMON  IX. 


THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE. 


St.  John  x.  10. 

"  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  ami  that  they  might 

have  it  more  abundantlj'." 

Ouii  Lord  here  declares  the  great  end  for  which 
He  came  into  the  world,  that  we  "  might  have 
life."  He  had  already  said  this  oftentimes  before  ; 
as  to  Nicodcmus  ;  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that 
He  gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever 
believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  ever- 
lasting life."  Again  at  Capernaum  :  "  The  bread 
of  God  is  lie  which  cometh  down  from  heaven,  and 
giveth  life  unto  the  world  ;"  and  *'  Ye  will  not  come 
to  Me,  that  yc  might  have  life."' 

But  liere  He  speaks  with  a  still  greater  fulness 
of  meaning.  He  does  not  only  say,  "  I  am  come 
tli;it  they  might  have  life;"  but  still  more,  "and 
tli;it    they    might  have    it    more   (ihiuiddiillij ;''   pro- 

'  St.  John  iii.  IfJ  ;  vi.  ;J:};   v.  40. 


iCO  THE   GITT   OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE. 


[SCRM. 


mising  some  great  endowment,  some  greater  gift 
of  God  than  man  had  ever  before  received.  This 
is  the  great  grace  of  the  Gospel,  the  abundant  gift 
of  life.  Lot  us  endeavour,  by  His  help  "  who  is 
our  Life,"  to  understand  the  depth  and  blessedness 
of  this  promise. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  words  "  more  abun- 
dantly" are  not  intended  as  a  measure  of  com- 
parison with  any  other  previous  gift  of  God  ;  but 
that  they  signify,  as  is  the  undoubted  usage  of  the 
original  as  well  as  of  other  languages,  only  the 
largeness  and  fulness  of  the  grace  of  life,  which 
is  in  Christ.  But,  after  all,  it  comes  to  the  same ; 
for,  in  such  modes  of  speech,  there  is  always  some 
comparison  involved,  though  it  may  be  remotely, 
and  in  human  speakers  almost  unconsciously,  in- 
tended. In  His  words,  who  is  Truth  and  the  Wis- 
dom of  the  Father,  it  is  something  more  than  error 
to  suppose  such  a  manner  of  speaking.  Though 
He  humbled  Himself  to  use  our  speech,  "  never 
man  spake  like  this  Man."'  There  is  a  pure, 
divine,  and  perfect  truth  in  every  word  of  the  Son 
of  God.  When  He  said,  "  I  am  come  that  they 
might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more 
abundantly,"  He  intended,  we  must  believe,  that 
the  gift  of  life  through  Himself  should  be  in  a  ful- 
ness never  given  to  man  before.     And  it  will  not 

1  St.  John  vii.  46, 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  iGl 

need  many  thoughts  to  shew  us  how  graciously  this 
promise  is  fulfilled. 

St.  John  has  in  part  led  us  into  the  right  un- 
derstanding of  these  words,  by  saying,  "  The  law 
was  given  by  ]\Ioses ;  but  grace  and  truth  came 
by  Jesus  Christ :'"  and  our  Lord  Himself  still 
more  fidly,  when  He  said,  "  Your  fathers  did  eat 
manna  in  the  wilderness,  and  are  dead.  This  is 
the  bread  which  cometh  down  from  heaven,  that 
a  man  may  eat  thereof,  and  not  die.""  Life  was 
given  under,  though  not  by,  the  law  ;  and  yet,  not 
as  it  was  to  be  given  afterwards  by  Jesus  Christ. 
Before  He  came,  it  was  given  in  secret  and  in 
measure  ;  after  He  came,  openly  and  in  abund- 
ance. But  these  words  contain  a  deeper  meaning 
than  simply  to  say,  that  the  Gospel  of  Christ  is 
fuller  of  life  than  the  law  of  Moses.  In  one  word, 
they  mean  nothing  less  than  this,  that  the  gift  of 
life,  which  is  by  Jesus  Christ,  is  more  abundant 
than  was  ever  given,  not  only  under  the  law,  or 
before  the  law ;  not  only  to  saints,  prophets,  pa- 
triarchs ;  but  more  abundant  than  in  the  grace  of 
creation,  and  in  the  gift  of  life  with  which  Adam 
was  endowed  in  Paradise.  "  I  am  come  tliat  they 
might  have  life,"  in  measure  more  abundant,  in 
manner  more  divine,  in  continuance  more  abiding, 
than  was  ever  yet  revealed. 

'   St.  John  i.  17.  ^  St.  John  vi.  4:),  .')0. 

VOL.   III.  M 


16*2  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

This  declares  to  us  the  great  gift  of  indwelling 
life,  which  is  now  bestowed  upon  us  by  the  Son  of 
God  through  the  Holy  Ghost. 

First,  then,  the  gift  or  spirit  of  life  dwells  in 
those  who  are  united  to  Christ,  in  a  fulness  more 
abundant  than  was  ever  revealed  before. 

When  God  made  man  in  His  own  image  and 
likeness,  and  breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath 
of  life,  he  became  "  a  living  soul :"  he  was  perfect 
in  body  and  soul,  endowed  with  the  grace  of  God, 
sinless  and  immortal.  We  may  ask,  What  more,  as 
man,  could  he  be  ?  St.  Paul  gives  us  an  inspired 
answer  :  "  The  first  man  Adam  was  made  a  living 
soul  J  the  last  Adam  was  made  a  quickening  spirit." 
And  again,  "The  first  man  is  of  the  earth,  earthy  ; 
the  second  man  is  the  Lord  from  heaven."^  Now, 
what  does  he  intend  by  these  words  ?  He  teaches 
us  that  Adam  was  a  mere  man,  made  of  the  earth, 
endowed  wdth  life  as  a  gift  of  God ;  but  that 
Christ,  who  is  God  and  man,  is  a  man  Divine, 
possessing  life  in  Himself.  The  life  possessed  by 
Adam  was  in  the  measure  of  his  own  infirmity ; 
the  life  which  is  in  Christ  is  in  the  fulness  of  a 
Divine  manhood.  Adam  was  united  to  God  only 
by  God's  grace  and  power.  Christ  is  God  made 
man.  The  humanity  of  Adam  was  only  human  ; 
in  Christ  the  manhood  is  become  divine.  The 
'  1  Cor.  XV.  45,  47. 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  l63 

union  of  the  Godhead  with  the  manhood  endowed 
it  with  a  substantial  grace,  whereby  it  was  deified. 
And  it  was  from  the  miraculous   conception  filled 
with  the  fulness  of  all  grace.     His  very  manhood 
became   the  fountain,  a  great  deep   of  all   grace. 
Therefore  He  said,  *'As  the  Father  hath  life  in 
Himself,  so  hath  He  given  to  the  Son,"  both  as 
God  and  as  man,  "  to  have  life  in  Himself."^     "As 
the  Father  raiseth    up  the  dead  and   quickeneth 
them,  even  so  the  Son  quickeneth  whom  He  will."^ 
This  was  the  prophecy  of  St.  John  Baptist :    "I 
indeed  baptize  you  with  water   unto  repentance  ; 
but  He  that  cometh  after  me  is  mightier  than  I, 
whose   shoes  I  am  not  worthy  to  bear  :    He  shall 
baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire."^ 
And  it  was  His  own  promise,  "  If  any  man  thirst, 
let  him  come  unto  ]\Ie,  and  drink.     He  that  be- 
lievcth  on  Me,  as  the  Scripture  hath  said,  out  of 
his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of  living  water.     (But 
this  spake  He  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  that  be- 
lieve on  Him  should  receive  :   for  the  Holy  Ghost 
was   not  yet  given  ;    because   that  Jesus  was   not 
yet  glorified.)"'     And,  after  He  had  entered   into 
His    glory,   St.  Jolin   bare   witness   that   tliis    pnj- 
misc   had  been   fulfilled  :    "  The  Word   was   made 
flesh,  and   dwelt   among    us,    and    \\r    Ix^hcld    His 

1  St.  John  V.  2G.  -'  lb.  21  ^  St.  M.ilt.  iii.  1  I. 

■*  St.  John  vii.  ?,7-'VJ. 


l64  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only  begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth."  "  And  of  His 
fulness  have  all  we  received,  and  grace  for  gi'ace  :"^ 
that  is  to  say,  the  anointing  which  was  upon  Him 
has  flowed  down  to  us.  The  Spirit  which  de- 
scended upon  our  Head  hath  run  down  to  the 
least  member  of  His  body,  even  "to  the  skirts 
of  His  clothing."  When  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
ascended  into  heaven.  He  "  received  gifts  for 
men  ;"  that  is,  the  full  dispensation  of  grace  was 
committed  unto  the  second  Adam.  The  Spirit 
which  proceedeth  from  the  Father  and  the  Son 
descends  upon  us  through  Him.  Wherefore  "  He 
breathed  on  them,  and  saith  unto  them,  Receive 
ye  the  Holy  Ghost."  The  third  Person  of  the 
ever-blessed  Trinity,  eternally  proceeding  from  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  proceeds  unto  us  through 
the  Word  made  flesh.  The  Incarnation  is  the 
channel  of  His  influence,  of  His  presence.  He 
dwells  in  man  as  He  never  dwelt  before  :  by 
unity  of  substance  with  the  AVord,  by  very  pre- 
sence through  the  Word  in  us.  This  is  the  in- 
terior life  and  reality  of  the  True  Vine.  "It  is 
expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away  :  for  if  I  go  not 
away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come  unto  you."^ 
My  outward,  visible,  and  local  presence  shall, 
through  His  coming,  be  inward,  invisible,  univer- 

1   St.  Johni.  14,  16.  2  ch.  xvi.  7. 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  l65 

sal.  "  If  I  depart,  I  will  send  Him  unto  you." 
From  My  Father's  throne  He  shall  proceed  from 
Me  to  you.  He  shall  "  abide  with  you  for  ever. 
Even  the  Spirit  of  truth,  whom  the  world  cannot 
receive,  because  it  seeth  Him  not,  neither  knoweth 
Him  :  but  ye  know  Him  ;  for  He  dwclleth  with 
you,  and  shall  be  i?i  you.'*'  To  this  end  God 
"  hath  put  all  things  under  His  feet,  and  gave  Him 
to  be  head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  which 
is  His  body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in 
all."-  For  all  His  members  are  "  an  holy  temple 
in  the  Lord :  in  whom  ye  also  are  builded  toge- 
ther for  an  habitation  of  God  through  the  Spirit."^ 
"  For  by  one  Spirit  we  are  all  baptized  into  one 
body.'"  "  Your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  which  is  in  you."  "  He  that  is  joined  to 
the  Lord  is  one  spirit."'' 

These  passages,  which  might  easily  be  mul- 
tiplied, teach  us  that  the  great  gift  of  Christ  is 
life,  given  to  us  l)y  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Throughout  the  Old  Testament,  and  es- 
pecially the  prophets,  as  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and 
Joel,''  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  is  foretold  as 
the  great  grace  of  the  Messiah  who  was  to  come  ; 
and   these   prophecies,   as    St.   I'eter   teachers,   liiid 

'   St.  .h,\m  xiv.  Hi,  17.  2  Ephcs.  i.  22. 

3  Ephcs.  ii.  21,  22.  '  1  ('or.  xii.  ]'i.         ''  Ch.  vi.  I'J,  17. 

*'  Isaiiih  xliv.  4;  Jcicni.  .\.\.\i.  o^  ;  Jud  ii,  2H,  20. 


166  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

their  opening  fulfilment  on  the  day  of  Pentecost. 
They  are  fulfilling  now,  and  shall  be  ever  fulfil- 
ling until  the  end  of  the  world.  The  great  gift 
of  life  has  been  bestowed  upon  a  world  dead  in 
sin  :  not  by  measure,  nor  by  gifts  shed  abroad, 
nor  in  saints  scattered  up  and  down  in  the  earth 
from  age  to  age  ;  but  first,  in  the  gift  of  the 
Word  made  flesh,  in  the  Divine  manhood  of  the 
Son,  in  whom  dwelt  "  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily  ;"^  and  then,  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
"  the  Lord  and  Giver  of  life,"  who,  through  the 
Incarnation,  has  descended  into  us,  to  dwell  in 
us,  not  only  by  outward  gifts,  and  accidental  en- 
dowments of  grace,  but  by  an  inward  and  abiding 
inhabitation  in  our  whole  personal  nature.  If 
we  may  speak  of  heavenly  things  by  earthly,  we 
may  say  that,  as  our  natural  life,  which  is  whole 
in  all  our  being,  is  whole  in  every  part,  so  the 
Spirit  of  Christ,  which  is  in  all  His  mystical 
body,  or  rather  as  the  finite  is  in  the  infinite,  in 
which  His  mystical  body  wholly  is, —  that  same 
fulness  of  spiritual  life  is  in  every  member  of  the 
same  ;  in  each  one  of  us  the  Spirit  dwells,  not  by 
division,  or  mere  emanation,  or  effect,  but  by  per- 
sonal presence,  inhabitation,  and  life.  We  have  it 
then  not  as  men,  but  as  members  of  Christ,  as  par- 
takers of  His  humanity  in  whom  all  fulness  dwells." 
1  Col.  ii.  9.  2  lb.  i.  19. 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  l67 

And  the  gift  of  life  is  not  a  power,  a  principle, 
but  a  very  and  true  Person  dwelling  in  us.  This 
is  the  regeneration  for  which  all  ages  waited  till 
the  Word  was  made  flesh  —  the  new  birth  of  water 
and  of  the  Spirit,  of  which  the  Baptism  of  Christ 
is  the  ordained  sacrament.  Here,  then,  we  see  a 
j)art  of  this  great  promise.  In  one  word,  it  is  the 
fulness  of  life  given  to  us  by  the  personal  indwell- 
ing of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which  Christ,  by  His  Incar- 
nation, has  bestowed  upon  us. 

2.  And  besides  this,  the  gift  of  life  is  abundant, 
not  only  in  its  fulness,  but  in  its  continuance. 
To  Adam  God  said,  "  In  the  day  thou  eatest 
thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die."  He  sinned  once, 
and  died.  "By  one  man" — and  by  one  sin  of 
that  one  man — "  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and 
death  by  sin."  Not  only  did  he  die,  but  we  in 
him.  The  head  died,  and  the  members  with  the 
head  ;  *'  so  death  passed  upon  all  men."  AVe  died 
before  wc  came  into  the  world  :  we  came  dead 
into  life;  born  of  a  family,  the  head  of  which 
(lied  on  the  threshold  of  creation.  The  life  of 
God  departed  from  him,  and  from  us,  wlio  were 
summccl  up  in  liini.  'Hie  endowments  of  grace, 
wliicli  were  also  gifts  of  lil'c,  reverted  lo  (Jod  wlio 
gave  tliem.  The  earth  relnnied  "  lo  the  dust  as 
it  was."  Divine  and  just  severity  ;  severe  and 
Divine    justice  !      The    gift   of  life    dejKirted    iVoin 


1G8  THE  GIFT  or  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Seum. 

him,  and  from  all  for  whom  he  had  received  it. 
This  free  and  sovereign  gift  which  was  never  ours 
hy  right,  nor  his  until  freely  given,  and  given  upon 
a  Divine  and  declared  law  of  obedience,  reverted 
to  the  Giver.  Nay,  more,  what  is  the  fall  of  man 
but  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  ?  and  what  is 
his  misery  and  his  sorrow,  what  are  the  griefs  and 
the  thorns  of  life,  but  that  knowledge  which  God 
forbade  on  pain  of  death  ?  To  know  it,  is  to  die. 
God  did  not  more  forbid  sin  than  death  itself. 
But  he  chose  death,  and  took  it  as  his  portion. 
Life  departed,  because  he  chose  to  die.  Such  was 
man's  first  estate,  and  such  was  our  estate  in  him. 
All  that  we  had  of  God  was  stored  up  in  him 
when  he  made  shipwreck  of  himself  and  us-  We 
were  in  the  power  and  in  the  probation  of  another ; 
of  a  man  weak  and  frail  as  ourselves. 

But  in  this  the  gift  of  life,  which  is  by  the 
Spirit  of  Christ,  has  more  abundantly  restored 
our  original  loss.  By  the  regeneration  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  we  are  engrafted  into  the  second 
Adam,  very  man,  not  frail  and  weak,  but  also 
very  God,  changeless  and  almighty.  We  are  ga- 
thered under  a  Head  which  cannot  fail ;  and  are 
members  of  Him  who  hath  revealed  His  own 
Divine  Name  :  "  I  am — the  Life."  He  has  over- 
come both  sin  and  death  for  us  :  sin  in  the  wil- 
derness and  upon  the  Cross,  death  in  hell  and  in 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  l69 

the  grave ;  and  He  is  gone  up  on  high,  above  all 
created  life,  Creator  Himself  of  all.  Our  Head, 
the  second  Adam,  is  in  the  throne  of  God,  and 
Himself  is  God.  We  are  consubstantial  with  the 
manhood  of  Him,  who  is  consubstantial  with  the 
Godhead  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
We  are  united  to  God  by  a  direct  participation  of 
Him  who  is  both  God  and  man  ;  and  are  thereby 
*'  made  partakers  of  the  Divine  nature."' 

In  this,  again,  we  see  the  abundance  of  the  life 
which  He  has  given   us.     We  cannot  die  in  our 
Head,  because  He  is  Life  eternal ;  nor  can  we  die 
in  ourselves,  except  we  cast  out  the  Giver  of  life, 
who  is  in  us.     Our  first  head  fell,  and  drew  us 
with  him  into  the  grave  ;  our  second  Head  is  in 
heaven,  and  "  our  life  is  hid  with  Him  in  God." 
We  can  die   no  more  by  any  federal  death,   but 
only  bv  our  own   several  and  personal  death.     If 
sinners  die  eternally,  they  die  one  by  one,  of  their 
own  free  choice,  even  as  Adam.     And  we  now  die 
no  more  by  single  acts  of  disobedience  ;  but  only 
by   a   resolved    and    dclil)erate    career    of  siiniiiig. 
This  reveals   to  us   the  wonderful  love  and  mira- 
culous  loii'i'sufforiiiL;'    ol"  Clirist    and    of  \\h\  8i)irit 
who  dwells    in    us.      WIkmi  oner   He  enters,   there 
He   abides  with  Divine   endurance.      What,  alas! 
is   the   life;  of  llu;  whole  visibh;  body  of  Christ,  of 
'   2  St.  I'ftcr  i.  \. 


170  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE,  [Serm. 

every  member,  every  baptized  soul,  but  a  strife 
of  sin  against  the  Spirit  ?  Even  the  holiest,  even 
they  who  are  sanctified  from  childhood,  and  per- 
haps they  more  sorrowfully  than  all,  confess  this. 
And  yet  the  Spirit  of  life  abides  in  us,  bears  with 
us,  will  not  give  us  up.  Though  we  slight  Him, 
though  we  grieve  Him,  though  our  slights  and 
grievings  rise  into  resistance,  and  issue  in  acts, 
even  in  habits  of  rebellion  ;  though  sins,  even 
deadly  sins,  defile  His  dwelling,  and  spurn  His 
Presence,  and  that  for  years,  through  boyhood 
into  youth,  and  youth  into  manhood,  aye,  into  age 
and  grey  hairs,  yet  He  does  not  depart.  He  will 
still  abide,  plead,  convince,  alarm  us,  day  by  day, 
and  year  by  year,  until  that  dread  time  known 
before  the  secret  tribunal  in  Christ's  righteous 
kingdom,  when  the  reo^enerate  soul  can  no  more 
be  renewed  unto  repentance.  But  how  long  that 
time  is  in  coming,  we  must  every  one  of  us  fully 
know.  If  it  were  not  as  far  off  as  the  end  of 
God's  longsuffering,  it  would  have  come  upon  us 
long  ago.  We  should  long  since  have  died  eter- 
nally. One  sin,  —  and  death  fell  on  Adam.  Sins, 
as  the  sand  on  the  sea-shore,  are  upon  our  heads ; 
and  yet  we  live.  What  makes  this  balance  hang 
so  unevenly  in  our  behalf?  The  Blood  of  the 
Son  of  God.  The  abundant  gift  of  life  through 
the  Holy  Ghost  dwelling  in  us.     What  a  revela- 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  I7I 

tion  of  the  Divine  patience  is  the  visible  Church, 
in  which  the  Spirit  of  abundant  life  these  eigh- 
teen hundred  years  has  dwelt,  ruling,  enlightening, 
inspiring,  guiding,  cleansing,  enduring  with  endless 
lono"sufferino-  the  wavward  wills  of  men.  What  a 
miracle  of  patience  is  the  indefectibility  of  the 
Church  of  Christ.  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway, 
even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  This  is  the 
foundation  of  our  strength.  We  know  that  "  the 
gifts  and  calling  of  God  are  without  repentance.*" 
He  will  not  revoke  them  till  we  have  cast  them 
away.  On  this  patient  love  we  have  rested  un- 
awares until  this  day.  lie  has  borne  with  us, 
and  upheld  us  even  against  ourselves  ;  and  we 
know,  that  if  we  will  hold  fast  by  Ilim,  lie  will 
never  let  us  go.  We  may  stay  our  weakness 
upon  His  strength,  our  mortality  upon  the  Giver 
of  life.  In  Him  we  already  partake  of  the  eternal 
world,  and  are  lifted  above  the  power  of  death. 
•'  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  he  that  hcareth 
My  word,  and  believeth  on  Him  that  sent  Me, 
/lath  everlasting  life,  and  shall  not  come  into  con- 
demnation ;  but  t.s  passed  from  death  unto  life."' 
*'  I  am  the  resurrection  nnd  the  life  :  Ik^  tliat  be- 
licNctli  in  ^]r,  though  he  W(n"(;  dead,  vcl  sli;ill 
he  live:  iiiid  In;  lh;it  livetli  and  l)eliev«'lli  in  Me 
sluill  never  die."'  Out  of  His  fulness  we  aw  llllcd  ; 
'    Uom.  \i.  2'J.  -   iil.  .luliii  V.  •_'!.  •'   II).  .m.  -J.'),  'jr,. 


172  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Sekm. 

by  His  Divine  Incarnation  we  are  upheld ;  by  His 
indwelling  Spirit  we  live  in  the  midst  of  death, 
in  the  heart  of  a  world  dead  in  sin,  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  death,  which  is  the  very  breath  of 
our  natural  life  :  so  that  now  death  itself  is  no 
more  death  but  sleep  ;  a  kindly  change,  loosen- 
ing- the  grave-clothes,  which  swathe  the  true  life 
He  has  bestowed  upon  us  ;  and  setting  us  at  large, 
to  live  in  the  freedom  and  fulness  of  the  Spirit, 
and  to  wait  for  Him  who  is  "  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life"  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  For  what 
destiny  of  bliss  Adam  was  created,  is  not  revealed. 
All  that  we  read  is  of  his  felicity  in  a  Paradise 
on  earth.  And  though  we  may  believe  that  he 
would  have  been,  in  due  time,  translated  to  a 
nearer  access  to  the  vision  of  God,  yet  it  is  only 
through  the  Incarnation  that  the  eternal  indwell- 
ing of  God  in  man,  and  of  man  in  God,  is  assured 
to  us.  In  this  we  see  the  perfection  of  the  Divine 
kingdom,  which  ascends  in  a  scale  of  infinite  per- 
fection. The  redemption  is  not  a  mere  restora- 
tion of  the  fall  of  man  ;  but  a  deeper  mystery  of 
love,  carrying  the  works  both  of  the  wisdom  and 
of  the  power  of  God  upward  in  the  order  of  bliss. 
This,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  His  great  promise, 
"  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and  that 
they  might  have  it  more  abundantly." 

Let  us  draw  from  what  has  been  said  one  or 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  173 

two   practical  truths  of  great  importance   in    our 
daily  life. 

1.  And  first,  we  hereby  know  that  in  all  our 
acts  there  is  a  Presence  higher  than  our  own 
natural  and  moral  powers.  We  were  united  to 
Christ  by  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  from 
our  Baptism.  There  has  never  been  a  moment 
from  the  first  dawn  of  consciousness,  from  the  first 
twilight  of  reason,  and  the  first  motions  of  the  will, 
when  the  Spirit  of  life  has  not  been  present  with 
us.  He  has  created  in  us  the  first  dispositions  to 
truth  and  holiness  ;  every  good  desire  was  from 
Him.  He  has  prevented  us  in  all  good  intentions, 
restrained  us  in  all  evil.  He  has,  as  it  were,  beset 
our  whole  spiritual  nature,  and  encompassed  us  on 
all  sides,  guiding  us  into  the  wdll  of  God.  From 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  we  received  not  our  will, — for 
that  was  in  our  nature, — but  every  good  inclination. 
By  our  fallen  state,  the  will  is  of  itself  inclined 
to  evil.  It  is  in  bondage  to  its  own  evil.  It  can 
no  more  release  itself  than  water  can  stand  as  a 
wall,  or  a  dry  rod  shoot  with  blossoms.  The  law 
of  its  fallen  nature  is  to  incline  to  evil,  as  the 
law  of  fire  is  to  ascend  in  flame.  By  nature,  then, 
our  will  is  both  free,  and  not  free ;  freely  enslaved, 
and  yet  without  power  to  unchain  itself.  And  this 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  does  for  us.  He  makes  sin 
fearful,    terrible,    bitter,   and    hateful,   till    the  will 


174  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

shrinks  from  it,  as  we  draw  back  from  a  searing- 
fire.  He  reveals  in  our  soul,  the  hideousness  and 
deadliness  of  evil,  till  we  tremble  at  it,  and  are 
willing  to  tear  ourselves  away  from  its  allurements. 
But  this  willingness  in  itself  is  impotent.  Left 
to  ourselves  we  should  be  in  bondage  still.  The 
sin  that  dwells  in  us  belongs  to  our  very  nature, 
because  it  is  fallen  ;  so  that  when  we  have  re- 
ceived a  better  will,  we  need  the  power  to  be  free. 
We  have  power  to  bind  ourselves,  but  not  to  loose ; 
for  when  we  have  put  on  the  fetter,  there  is  an- 
other hand  which  turns  the  bolt,  and  by  ourselves 
we  can  loose  it  no  more.  But  the  Spirit  who  gave 
us  our  new  birth  is  God.  Before  Him  all  bonds 
fall  off.  If  only  we  yield  our  will  to  Him,  His 
power  shall  be  ours  :  and  by  His  help,  every  sin 
of  the  soul  is  broken  through,  and  we  are  set  free ; 
not  by  our  own  power,  not  by  our  own  will ;  though 
it  be  still  with  our  own  act,  willingly  and  freely. 
This  is  the  office  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  all  our 
sanctification.  He  first  inspires  thoughts,  inclina- 
tions, desires,  intentions  of  holiness.  He  goes  be- 
fore, leading  the  way ;  winning  us  on  by  soft  in- 
ward persuasions  and  by  a  sweet  sense  of  God's 
will ;  giving  us,  with  a  holy  will,  also  a  power 
above  our  own.  The  working  of  the  Spirit  is,  so 
to  speak,  co-extensive  with  our  whole  moral  being. 
He  presides  over  all  the  springs  of  thought,  word, 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT   LIFE.  l?^ 

and  deed  :  by  His  gracious  Presence  endowing  us 
with  power  and  will  to  mortify  sin,  and  to  live  in 
holiness.  And  this  gift  of  the  Spirit  of  holiness 
is  itself  the  gift  of  life.  "  For  to  be  carnally 
minded  is  death  ;  but  to  be  spiritually  minded  is 
life  and  peace.  .  .  .  But  ye  are  not  in  the  flesh, 
but  in  the  Spirit,  if  so  be  that  the  Spirit  of  God 
dwell  in  you.  Now  if  any  man  have  not  the  Spirit 
of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  His.  .  .  .  But  if  the  Spirit 
of  Him  that  raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell 
in  you.  He  that  raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead 
shall  also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  His  Spirit 
that  dwellcth  in  you.'"  What,  then,  is  our  life 
but  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  dwelling  in  us  ? 

2.  Another  plain  and  practical  truth  is,  that 
this  Presence  works  in  us  according  to  the  revealed 
and  fixed  laws  of  our  probation.  Because  there 
is  some  apparent  difficulty  of  reconciling  these  two 
revealed  facts,  many  have  chosen  to  believe  cither 
the  one  or  the  other,  but  refused  to  believe  in  both. 
As  if  they  could  be  inconsistent.  As  if  God  were 
the  author  of  confusion,  the  rcvcaler  of  contradic- 
tions. There  may,  indeed,  be  mystery,  but  can  be 
no  discord.  Id  tin;  kin«rdom  of  God  there  must 
be  agencies  so  diverse  as  to  sur[)ass  our  knowledge. 
How  is  it  with  things  nearest  to  our  sense  ?  Who 
can   tell  how  the  material  hnx'm  is  llic,   instrinnciit 

'    Rom.  viii.  (I,  !J,  11.  » 


lyG  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

of  thought,  or  how  the  whole  bodily  frame  obeys 
the  complex  motions  of  the  will,  how  the  hand 
answers  to  every  creation  of  the  mind?  What 
is  the  point  of  contact  between  intellectual  and 
animal  life  ?  When  we  can  lay  down  this  as  a 
basis,  it  will  be  time  to  build  upon  it  the  further 
knowledoe, —  what  is  the  point  of  contact  between 
the  Divine  life  and  our  spiritual  life.  Neverthe- 
less, there  is  less  of  difficulty  than  some  would 
have  us  believe.  If  we  may  reverently  take  as  an 
example  the  Person  of  the  Son  of  God,  we  shall 
see  that  the  Divine  and  the  human  wills  in  Him, 
thouo'h  ever  two,  as  the  two  natures  were  ever 
perfect,  were  also  in  action  ever  one  by  a  free 
perfect  harmony.  So  is  it,  in  a  manner,  with  us, 
who  are  regenerate  by  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  Divine  will  is  ever  present  with  our 
personal  will,  presiding,  restraining,  persuading  us. 
We  may,  indeed,  wholly  and  finally  resist  it :  for 
we  have  the  power,  if  we  have  the  will ;  because 
the  power  of  resistance  is  the  sinful  will  itself ;  as 
our  Lord  has  said  ;  "  Ye  will  not  come  to  Me, 
that  ye  might  have  life."  And  as  our  resistance, 
so  is  His  persuasion  :  the  force  by  which  our  will 
is  changed  from  evil  to  good,  from  resistance  to 
compliance,  is  a  moral  force.  If  it  were  any  other, 
it  would  defeat  itself.  The  force  of  constraint 
multiplies  unwillingness :    only  moral  suasions  win 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  177 

the  will  to  free  assent.  And  these  moral  suasions, 
drawn  from  all  depths  of  love  and  fear,  from  life 
and  death,  from  heaven  and  hell,  from  sin  and 
from  the  Cross,  are  perpetually  pressing  upon  the 
regenerate  will.  They  bear  upon  it  with  the  pres- 
sure of  the  Divine  presence,  which  reveals  them 
in  us ;  as  a  water-flood  presses  with  the  whole 
weight  of  its  stream  upon  a  bolted  wheel,  wait- 
ing till  it  give  way.  The  wheel  may  resist,  but 
it  cannot  move  alone.  So  with  the  persuasions 
of  the  Divine  Spirit.  They  do  not  overbear  and 
carry  away  before  them  the  fragments  of  our  moral 
nature,  but  wait  upon  them,  and  move  them  ac- 
cordin"-  to  their  own  natural  laws.  For  who  is  He 
that  persuades  but  the  same  who  made  us  ?  lie 
knows  the  creature  of  His  hands,  and  is  come  not 
to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil  ;  to  heal  and  create  anew 
what  sin  has  corrupted.  His  persuasions  are  by 
illuminations  of  truth  and  inspirations  of  holiness  ; 
and  these  arc  powers  which  act  not  bv  force,  but 
like  the  lights  and  dews  of  Heaven,  by  a  piercing 
virtue,  infusing  new  gifts  of  fruitfulness  and  power 
into  the  works  of  God.  What  we  receive  of  the 
Divine  Spirit  is  so  given  to  us  as  to  become  our 
own,  and  as  our  own  we  use  it  witli  a  perfect 
freedom  of  llic  will. 

3.  Lastly,  we  ni:iv  learn  ihnt  the    union  of  Ihis 
Divine   Presence   with   ns  in    our   probiition,   issues 

vol..    III.  N 


lyS  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [Serm. 

in  the  last  and  crowning  grace  of  this  life,  the 
gift  of  perseverance.  "  Being  confident,"  St.  Paul 
says  to  the  Philippians,  "...  that  He  which  hath 
begun  a  good  work  in  you  will  perfect  the  same 
unto  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ."^  "  Faithful  is  He 
that  calleth  you,  who  also  will  do  it."" 

If  any  sincere  Christian  cast  himself  with  his 
whole  will  upon  the  Divine  Presence  which  dwells 
within  him,  he  shall  he  kept  safe  unto  the  end. 
This  is  the  spiritual  union  and  mutual  knowledge  of 
which  our  Lord  speaks  when  He  says :  "  My  sheep 
hear  My  voice,  and  I  know  them,  and  they  follow 
Me  :"  then  comes  the  promise  of  perseverance  :  "I 
give  unto  them  eternal  life  ;  and  they  shall  never 
perish,  neither  shall  any  man  pluck  them  out  of 
My  hand."^  What  is  it  that  makes  us  unable  to 
persevere  ?  Is  it  want  of  strength  ?  By  no  means. 
We  have  with  us  the  strength  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
When  did  we  ever  set  ourselves  sincerely  to  any 
work  according  to  the  will  of  God,  and  fail  for 
want  of  strength  ?  It  was  not  that  strength  failed 
the  will,  but  that  the  will  failed  first.  There  is 
the  seat  of  all  our  weakness,  the  source  of  all  in- 
stability. If  we  could  but  embrace  the  Divine 
will  with  the  whole  love  of  ours  ;  cleaving  to  it, 
and  holding  fast  by  it,  we  should  be  borne  along 

1  Phil.  i.  6.  2  1  xhess.  v.  24. 

3  St.  John  X.  27,  28. 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  179 

as  upon  "  the  river  of  the  water  of  life."  And 
what  is  it  that  hinders  us  ?  I  am  not  now  speak- 
ing of  those  who  indulge  in  wilful  sin  ;  but  of  those 
who  desire  to  persevere  in  the  love  of  God — what 
is  it  hinders  us  ?  It  is  the  remains  of  unsubdued 
faults  of  mind,  such  as  impatience,  stubbornness, 
wilfulness  ;  or  of  indolence,  sloth,  and  coldness  ; 
or  it  is  the  conscious  want  of  holy  affections,  of 
thankfulness,  praise,  love,  grace,  devotion ;  and, 
therefore,  of  endurance  and  self-denial  for  Christ's 
sake.  These  are  the  things  which  make  our  hold 
of  the  Divine  will  so  loose  and  slack.  We  feel 
it  to  be  a  high  and  severe  blessedness,  for  which 
our  hearts  are  too  feeble  and  earthward.  And 
therefore  we  open  only  certain  chambers  of  our  will 
to  the  influence  of  the  Divine  will.  We  are  afraid 
of  being  wholly  absorbed  into  it ;  lest,  if  I  may  so 
say,  "  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord"  should  take  us  "  up, 
and  cast  us  upon  some  mountain,  or  into  some 
valley,'"  far  from  all  joys,  consolations,  friends,  and 
home.  And  yet,  if  wo  would  liavc  peace,  wc  must 
be  altog(;ther  united  to  Ilim.  For  unless  we  be 
wholly  conformed  to  His  will,  we  shall  never  at- 
tain the  gift  of  perseverance  ;  or  at  least,  we  shall 
always  doubt  and  fear  of  our  In^lding  out ;  and 
when  perseverance  is  doubtful,  there  can  be  no 
true  peace. 

'  2  Kings  ii.  IG. 


180  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  [SeRm. 

Let  US,  then,  endeavour  so  to  embrace  the  gift 
of  life  which  is  in  us,  that  nothing  may  separate  us 
from  Him ;  that  no  choice,  no  intent,  no  affection, 
no  permitted  motion  of  our  will,  may  cast  a  shadow 
between  us  and  His  presence.  And  then  let  us 
fear  nothing.  We  need  fear  no  temptations  ;  for 
He  will  either  turn  them  aside,  or  carry  us  through  : 
we  need  not  be  dismayed  at  the  stubborn  strength 
of  the  sins  against  wdiich  we  are  contending  ;  for 
He  will  cast  them  all  out. at  last :  we  need  not  be 
out  of  heart,  even  at  our  sensible  coldness,  slack- 
ness of  intention,  impotence  of  will :  for  He  will 
kindle  the  love  of  God  within  us ;  and  give  us,  in 
His  own  time,  the  zeal  and  energy  of  a  fervent  re- 
pentance. We  have  but  one  thing  to  make  sure, 
and  He  will  provide  all  the  rest.  If  His  will  be 
our  will.  He  will  quicken  and  cleanse,  kindle  and 
sanctify  us  in  body,  and  soul,  and  spirit.  It  is 
not  for  us  to  look  back,  except  in  repentance,  or 
to  look  on,  except  in  hope.  The  past  is  no  longer 
ours  ;  the  future  is  His.  Now  is  our  probation  : 
to  trust,  to  believe  His  love,  to  be  prompt,  com- 
pliant to  the  guidance  of  His  inspirations.  His 
Presence  is  in  us,  leading  us  to  rest.  Our  safety 
and  our  peace  is  to  abide  under  its  shadow. 
Therein  can  enter  nothing  that  defileth  ;  nothing- 
savouring  of  death.  If  the  memory  of  past  sin 
makes  you  afraid,  ask  of  the   Spirit  which  is   in 


IX.]  THE  GIFT  OF  ABUNDANT  LIFE.  181 

you  the  gift  of  sorrow ;  if  the  proved  instability 
of  your  will  makes  you  almost  despair,  ask  of  Him 
the  gift  of  perseverance.  He  is  in  you  as  a  foun- 
tain of  life,  deep  as  Eternity,  inexhaustible  as  God. 
The  rivers  of  His  strength,  healing,  consolation, 
are  never  stayed,  except  in  hearts  barren  and  dry. 
In  the  humble,  hoping,  loving,  trustful  heart,  the 
waters  of  life  pour  forth  in  an  exuberant  flood. 
"  When  the  poor  and  needy  seek  water,  and  there 
is  none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I  the 
Lord  will  hear  them :  I  the  God  of  Israel  will  not 
forsake  them.  I  will  open  rivers  in  high  places, 
and  fountains  in  the  midst  of  the  valleys :  I  will 
make  the  wilderness  a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry 
land  springs  of  water."'  This  is  the  gift  of  the 
Spirit  in  the  soul  of  man  ;  and  the  source  of  it  has 
been  revealed  from  heaven.  '*  And  he  shewed  me 
a  pure  river  of  water  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  pro- 
ceeding out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb." 
"  The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come.  And  let 
him  that  heareth  say.  Come.  And  let  him  that 
is  athirst  come.  And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take 
the  water  of  life  freel}."- 

1  Isaiah  xli.  17,  18.  ^  Rev.  xxii.  1,  17. 


SEKMON  X. 


THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 


Philippians  iii.  20. 
"  Our  conversation  is  in  heaven ;    from  whence    also  we  look 
for  the  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ :   who   shall  change 
our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  His  glorious 
body." 

St.  Paul,  in  these  words,  is  strengthening  the 
Christians  at  Philippi,  by  setting  before  them  the 
greatness  of  their  calling  and  of  their  destiny. 
They  had  much  need  of  encouragement ;  for  a  time 
of  sore  and  peculiar  trial  was  then  upon  them. 
They  had  to  endure  not  only  bitter  persecutions 
and  the  assault  of  Antichrists,  wielding  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  wear  out  the  saints  of  the  Most 
High,  but  a  still  more  dangerous,  because  more 
subtil  trial.  They  were  being  tried  by  false  ajid 
sensual  men  mingling  in  the  communion  of  the 
Church.     There  were  among  them  false  teachers, 


Serm.  X.]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  183 

who  mixed  up  the  law  of  Moses  with  the  gospel 
of  Christ ;  double-minded  men,  steering  between 
both  ;  striving  to  escape  persecution,  and  yet  desir- 
ing to  obtain  the  reputation  of  Christians.  These 
were  very  dangerous  tempters,  who  entered  the 
Church  in  disguise,  defiling  it,  and  destroying  souls 
for  whom  Christ  died. 

There  was  one  special  mark  by  which  such 
men  (as  we  see  both  from  St.  Paul  and  St.  John) 
might  be  known  :  they  lived  evil  lives.  There- 
fore here  St.  Paul  sets  before  the  Philippians  a 
contrast  of  carnal  and  spiritual  Christians,  and 
of  the  earthly  and  the  heavenly  life.  After  say- 
ing, **  Many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often, 
and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  that  they  are  the 
enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ :  whose  end  is  de- 
struction, whose  God  is  their  belly,  and  whose 
glory  is  in  their  shame,  who  mind  earthly  things  ;" 
he  adds,  "  For  our  conversation  is  in  heaven." 

The  word  here  rendered  'conversation'  means 
something  further  and  more  specific  than  our  word 
commonly  signifies.  It  means  the  eslate,  and  there- 
fore the  ri^lilH  and  the  dul'icH  of  a  citizen  of  any 
city. 

We  see,  therefore,  that  by  this  word  he  in- 
tends : 

1.  First,  to  bid  them  remember  tliat  God  had 
made  them  citizens  of  the  holy  city.     '*  Our  con- 


184  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

versation  is  in  heaven  :"  that  is,  our  true  home  is 
not  here,  but  on  hioh.  "Jerusalem  which  is  above 
is  free,  which  is  the  mother  of  us  all."'  And  we, 
by  our  Baptism,  are  made  free  of  it :  we  are  par- 
takers of  the  freedom  which  is  in  Christ.  This  is 
the  city  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks  when  he  says, 
"Ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city 
of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to 
an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general 
assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born,  which  are 
written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all, 
and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.""  And 
again,  when  he  says,  "  Here  we  have  no  continuing 
city,  but  w^e  seek  one  to  come  ;"^  "a  city  which 
hath  foundations."^  And  St.  John,  in  the  last  great 
prophecy  given  through  him  to  the  Church,  saw 
that  city,  builded  four-square,  perfect  every  way, 
on  twelve  foundations,  having  in  them  the  names 
of  the  twelve  apostles  of  the  Lamb.  It  was  built  at 
unity  with  itself,  perfect  in  structure  and  in  sym- 
metry, its  length  as  great  as  its  breadth  ;  its  walls 
were  of  all  manner  of  precious  stones,  and  its  streets 
of  pure  gold,  clear  as  glass  :  a  w^onderful  vision, 
full  of  mystery,  and  of  meaning  partly  revealed, 
partly  hidden,  and  by  hiding  made  even  more  glo- 
rious and  majestic.     It  sets  before  us  the   unitv, 

1  Gal.  iv.  2G.  2  Heb.  xii.  22,  23. 

3  Heb.  xiii,  14.  ^  ch.  xi.  10. 


X.]  .THE  CITY   OF  GOD.  185 

multitude,  perfection,  glory,  and  bliss,  of  Christ's 
saints,  gathered  under  Him  in  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Of  this  city  and  company,  the  whole  Church  on 
earth,  and,  in  it,  the  Christians  in  Philippi,  Avcre 
citizens  and  partakers.  St.  Paul  tells  them  this, 
to  remind  them  that  they  were  no  longer  isolated 
one  from  another,  but  incorporated  into  one  body. 
Sin,  as  it  rends  man  from  God,  so  it  rends  man 
from  man.  It  is  the  antagonist  of  all  unity — 
a  power  of  dissolution  and  of  isolation.  But  the 
grace  of  Christ,  by  its  first  gift,  binds  again  the 
soul  of  man  with  God,  and  the  spirits  of  all  the  re- 
generate in  one  fellowship.  We  are  taken  out  of 
a  dead  world,  to  be  grafted  into  the  living  Church. 
Therefore  St.  Paul  tells  the  Christians  in  Ephesus, 
that  they  were  "  no  more  strangers  and  foreign- 
ers, but  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of 
the  household  of  God."  They  were  thereby  made 
subjects  and  servants  of  the  King  of  saints,  the 
Lord  of  the  holy  city.  It  became  their  own  in- 
heritance. Its  courts  were  their  resting-places, 
pledged  to  them  and  sure.  Their  names  were 
written  among  those  wlio  should  walk  in  the  light 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  This  is  the  iirst  mean- 
ing of  til e  word. 

2.  And  next  it  taught  them,  that  as  their  state 
was,  so  their  life  should  ])e  ;  that  as  they  were  citi- 
zens of  heaven,   so  their  niaiiiicr  of"  lilc  shoidd  Ix' 


186  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

heavenly  too.  Our  word  '  conversation'  has  a  very 
complex  and  extensive  signification.  It  means  the 
whole  course  and  context  of  a  man's  life,  words, 
and  actions ;  as  in  the  book  of  Acts,  where  it  is 
said,  "  while  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out  among 
us  ;"^  that  is,  was  familiarly  present  with  us  in  the 
whole  course  and  detail  of  His  earthly  life.  By 
this,  then,  St.  Paul  means,  that  the  whole  of  their 
life  must  needs  be  sanctified,  penetrated  in  every 
part  by  the  spirit  of  their  calling.  Though  they 
were  in  the  world,  they  had  nothing  in  it,  nor  it  in 
them.  All  its  provinces  and  kingdoms,  its  cities 
and  palaces,  were  nothing  to  them.  All  the  pomps 
and  gifts,  the  glitter  and  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
were  but  snares  and  burdens.  What  part  in  these 
had  they  whose  lot  was  in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  ? 
To  them  the  fashion  of  this  world  was  but  a  vision, 
luring  and  false,  shifting  and  passing  away.  They 
were  united  to  the  eternal  world,  which  has  no 
variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning ;  and  to  it 
they  were  fast  advancing.  The  maxims,  examples, 
rules  of  men,  were  no  laws  for  their  guidance : 
their  only  laws  were  the  lives  of  God's  servants 
—  the  order  and  the  unitv  of  heaven.  As  the 
visible  Church  bodies  forth  the  invisible  to  the 
eye  of  flesh,  so  the  invisible  imposes  its  supremacy 
and  dominion  upon  the  visible  Church.  As  the 
1  Acts  i.  21. 


X.]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  187 

head  is  the  seat  and  source  of  thought,  power, 
and  command,  so  Christ  is  the  fountain  of  all  law, 
power,  and  order,  to  the  body  on  earth.  From 
Him  comes  holiness,  and  to  Him  holiness  ascends 
again  in  adoration.  Worship  is  the  intense  ut- 
terance of  the  sanctity  of  the  Church.  We  see, 
then,  in  what  the  fellowship  of  the  city  of  God 
consists :  in  the  unity  of  the  imperfect  with  the 
perfect ;  of  the  Church  of  one  age  with  the  Church 
of  all  ages ;  in  the  presence  of  Christ  the  Head 
through  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  all  the  body  visible 
and  invisible ;  and  this  issuing  on  earth  in  the 
heavenly  conversation  of  His  servants.  This  has 
been  the  mystery  at  which  the  world  has  won- 
dered, and  upon  which,  in  fear  and  foreboding, 
it  has  made  incessant  war.  "  Who  shall  not  fear 
Thee,  O  King  of  saints,"  and  Thy  Body,  which  is 
eternal ;  the  Church  visible  and  imperishable,  wit- 
nessing and  suffering,  but  never  consumed?  This 
is  the  marvel  of  the  mystery,  at  which  the  kings  of 
the  earth  have  shut  their  mouths,  upon  which  the 
host  of  heaven  look  and  worship,  learning  "  the 
manifold  wisdom  of  God."  This,  tlicn,  only  too 
briefly,  is  the  substance  and  outline  of  those  few 
but  great  words  of  the  apostle,  "  our  conversation 
is  in  heaven." 

See,  therefore,  how  liigli   is  our  cnlliiig.      We 
are  incorporated  with  the  city  of  the  living  God. 


188  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

It  is  all  around  us  even  now ;  we  are  within  its 
walls,  builded  upon  the  apostles  and  prophets, 
encompassed  by  a  cloud  of  witnesses.  It  is  the 
city  of  refuge  from  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil.  Many  generations  of  its  citizens  have  over- 
come, and  are  gone  on  before,  ascending  up  on 
high.  There  is  pledged  to  you  as  sure  a  mastery 
over  all  these  enemies  and  powers  as  to  them. 
They  have  won  their  crown ;  but  yours,  too,  is 
sure.  They  who  are  now  entered  into  rest,  a  little 
while  ago  were  sinners  and  tempted ;  then  peni- 
tents, now  resting  and  crowned.  Their  earthly 
warfare  has  received  its  complement  and  fulness : 
what  they  strove  to  be,  they  are.  They  w^ho 
prayed  for  humility  are  humble ;  for  meekness, 
are  meek ;  for  purity,  are  "  pure,  even  as  He  is 
pure."  They  w^ho  desired  to  know  the  truth,  now 
see  God,  the  Truth,  uncreated,  eternal.  Remem- 
ber this  in  all  your  temptations,  doubts,  and  perils. 
When  you  are  afraid,  when  you  are  ready  to  give 
way,  when  sluggish  unwillingness  weighs  you  down, 
and  to  persevere  unto  the  end  seems  to  be  impos- 
sible,—  then  remember  what  they  were  who  have 
entered  through  the  gates  into  the  city.  The 
very  same  bliss  is  pledged  to  you :  a  spirit  per- 
fect as  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  when  He  shall  change 
your  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  like  unto  His 
glorious  body.     They  whom  you  have  yielded  up. 


X]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  189 

are  only  parted  for  awhile.  They  have  gone  up, 
after  their  mortal  toil,  and  are  resting  now,  laid 
up  for  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

How  great  comfort  is  there  here  for  all  mourn- 
ers. Be  of  good  cheer,  every  one  that  is  afflicted ; 
for  the  Lord  is  preparing  you  for  the  city  of  God. 
Whatever  be  your  sorrow,  it  is  the  token  of  His 
love,  for  the  Man  of  sorrows  is  our  King  :  and  the 
path  of  sorrow  is  the  path  of  His  kingdom ;  there 
is  none  other  that  leadeth  unto  life.  Your  reward 
is  sure,  if  you  are  but  true  to  yourself.  Do  we 
believe  these  things?  Are  they  realities,  or  are 
they  words  ?  They  are  God's  Word,  which  is  a 
reality.  *'  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  aw^ay  ;  but 
My  word  shall  not  pass  away."  It  is  when  speak- 
ing of  sorrows  that  St.  Paul  says,  that  God  hath 
"  predestinated  us  to  be  conformed  to  the  image 
of  His  Son."  "  O  tliou  afflicted,  tossed  with  tem- 
pest, l)ut  not  comforted,  I  will  lay  thy  stones  with 
fair  colours,  and  thy  foundations  with  sapphires. 
And  I  will  make  thy  windows  agates,  and  thy 
gates  of  carbuncles,  and  all  thy  borders  of  phea- 
sant stones.  And  all  thy  children  shall  be  taught 
of  the  Lord,  and  great  shall  be  the  peace  of  thy 
children."' 

And   if  our  calling  be  so  lii^li,   liou    Iioh    and 
searching   must   be   tlie    laws  of  that   city.      They 
'  Isuiali  liv,  1 1  -i;j. 


190  THE  CITY  OF  GOD,  [Serm. 

are  the  laws  of  the  heavenly  coui't,  of  saints  and 
of  angels.  Our  law  is  the  royal  law,  which  has 
two  great  chapters,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord 
thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy 
strength,  and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself."'  This  is 
the  decree  which  governs  earth  and  heaven ;  it 
embraces  the  whole  man,  and  searches  out  the 
depths  of  the  spirit.  "  It  was  said  by  them  of 
old  time,  Thou  shalt  not  kill ;  and  whosoever  shall 
kill  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment.  But  I 
say  unto  you.  That  whosoever  is  angry  with  his 
brother  without  a  cause  shall  be  in  danger  of  the 
judgment."-  This  command  is  spiritual,  sharper 
than  any  two-edged  sword.  It  is  the  law  of  in- 
terior holiness  —  the  Cross  realised  in  the  will  — 
carried  out  in  the  manifold  actings  of  life.  If  we 
would  know  how  to  expound  it,  we  must  imitate 
Christ  our  Lord.  The  words  and  the  deeds  of 
the  King  of  saints  are  both  text  and  comment. 
But  if  this  be  so,  what  is  the  state  of  the  Church 
visible  on  earth  ?  What  signs  does  it  bear  of  its 
heavenly  origin?  Where  is  its  unity,  and  w^here 
its  holiness  ?  Where  is  the  perfection  of  its  citi- 
zens ;  whei'e  are  the  tokens  of  the  royal  law  ?  Let 
us  trv  ourselves  by  this  rule. 

1.    It  is  plain,   then,   that  where  there  is  no 
1  St.  Mark  xii.  30,  31.  -  St.  Matt.  v.  21,  22. 


X.]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  191 

outward  obedience  to  these  heavenly  laws,  there 
can  be  no  real  citizenship  of  heaven.  A  certain 
estate  of  citizenship  there  must  be,  because  God 
gave  it  to  us  by  our  reoeneration  in  holy  Bap- 
tism. He  bestowed  upon  us  our  justification  ;  and 
gave  us  an  inheritance  among  the  saints  in  light. 
This  is  His  act ;  for  "  it  is  God  that  justifieth." 
But  though  He  bestow  this  freedom,  what  He 
gave,  we  may  forfeit.  If  we  break  the  laws,  we 
thereby  disfranchise  ourselves  of  "  the  liberty 
wherewith  Christ  hath  made  us  free."  Sinful 
Christians  make  themselves  outlaws  from  the  hea- 
venly city ;  and  the  enemies  of  His  cross  have 
no  part  in  it.  They  are  under  a  ban  of  outlawry, 
beyond  the  protection  of  the  law,  though  still  sub- 
ject to  its  penalties.  Such  are  all  blasphemers, 
scorners  of  God  and  of  His  grace,  oluttonous  and 
excessive  persons,  the  impure  and  sensual,  uncha- 
ritable and  bitter,  proud,  hard-hearted,  unmerciful, 
"  whose  end  is  destruction."  "  Into  the  holy  city 
there  shall  enter  nothing  that  defileth,  or  that 
worketh  abominatifm,  or  that  makcth  a  lie."  And 
what  is  the  condition  of  multitudes  in  the  visible 
Church  but  this  ?  It  has  even  come  to  pass,  that 
through  the  evil  lives  of  the  regenerates  men  dis- 
believe the  gift  of  regeneration  ;  and  deny  the  grant 
of  heavenly  freedom,  which  CJod  of  His  sovereign 
grace  gives  to  the  Baptized.     'I'nw,  indeed,  it  is, 


192  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Seum. 

that  sinners  have  no  fellowship  in  the  heavenly 
city,  as  rebels  have  no  franchises  or  rights  :  yet 
they  are  subjects  still;  and  must  be  judged  by  the 
violated  laws  of  their  heavenly  Prince.  Though 
we  will  not  have  Him  to  reign  over  us,  He  is  still 
our  Kinof,  and  must  be  our  Judi^e. 

2.  Again  ;  this  shews  us  that,  even  where  there 
is  outward  obedience,  there  may  yet  be  no  true  in- 
ward participation  in  the  life  and  freedom  of  the 
heavenly  city.  This  is  a  warning  specially  needed 
in  these  latter  times :  for  there  is  much  seemino: 
and  false  Christianity  in  the  world. 

The  orders  and  usages  of  society  are  a  great 
check  upon  grosser  transgressions.  Public  opinion 
—  a  heartless  motive — is  a  very  strong  restraint, 
and  has  in  these  days  erected  for  itself  a  tribunal 
from  which  to  act  the  censor,  and  to  exercise  an 
irresponsible  discipline.  The  w^orship  of  men,  self- 
worship,  world-worship,  all  conspire  to  keep  up  the 
semblance  of  Christian  obedience.  Civilisation  is 
an  extensive  refiner  of  outward  manners.  It  pu- 
rifies, at  least,  the  language  of  men,  while  their 
thoughts  are  all  the  while  uncleansed.  It  esta- 
blishes higher  standards  of  moral  judgment,  and 
gives  a  tone  to  private  life,  and  to  the  spirit  of  laws 
and  tribunals,  and  to  the  proceedings  of  commuta- 
tive justice.  Custom  also  is  a  powerful  support  of 
the  better  habits  passively  received  in  childhood. 


X.]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  193 

Men  float  as  upon  a  stream,  buoyed  up,  passive, 
and  inert.  And  intellect  has  a  vast  and  versatile 
power  of  putting  on  the  appearance  not  only  of 
religion,  but  even  of  high  sanctity.  It  is  hard  to 
believe  that  a  man  is  not  what  he  is  able  both 
powerfully  and  persuasively  to  describe.  And  what 
is  true  of  individuals  is  true  also  of  societies.  A 
civilised  Christian  state  has  a  thousand  agencies  to 
assist  in  supporting  the  belief  of  its  own  religious 
character ;  and  the  Christian  tradition  of  eighteen 
hundred  years  yet  floats  on.  This  is  a  danger 
to  which  we  are  specially  exposed  at  this  time. 
The  powers  of  the  world,  though  professing  to  be 
Christian,  have  grown  weary  of  Christ's  yoke,  and 
are  divorcing  themselves,  one  by  one,  from  Ilim. 
We  have  new  ideas,  new  theories,  new  forces  at 
work.  Education  now  is  the  regenerator  of  indi- 
viduals ;  and  civilisation  is  the  modern  city  of  God. 
We  hear  of  individual  and  social  development ;  in- 
dividual and  social  progress  ;  of  the  destiny  of  man- 
kind, and  of  the  golden  age  yet  to  come,  when  all 
shall  be  loyal,  moral,  intellectual ;  Christian,  but 
not  sectarian  ;  religious,  tliough  unable  to  unite  ; 
one  with  God,  though  divided  from  each  other. 
But  we  seem  to  forget  that,  for  the  d(!velopnieiit  of 
individual  perfection,  there  is  needed  a  priiK  iplc 
above  nature;  and  for  tlie  development  of  society, 
an  unity  above  national  institutions.     In  what  does 

VOL.  III.  o 


IQ^  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

Christianity  differ  from  philosophy  on  the  one 
hand,  but  in  revealing  to  us  the  regeneration  of 
the  Spirit ;  and  from  Judaism  on  the  other,  but  in 
absorbino"  all  nations  into  the  unitv  of  the  Church  ? 
The  true  and  only  fruitful  principle  of  education 
is  the  gift  of  our  spiritual  birth  ;  the  mightiest 
power  of  national  development  and  progress  is  sub- 
jection to  the  city  of  God.  But  if  we  will  invert 
these  things,  w^e  simply  adopt  the  principle  of  phi- 
losophical education,  and  a  Judaic  nationality.  In 
these  days,  when  Christian  realities  are  fast  pass- 
ing away.  Christian  terms  are  still  retained ;  but 
they  are  retained  only  to  be  transferred  to  sha- 
dows. We  hear  on  all  sides  of  unity  and  rege- 
neration ;  but  the  spiritual  laws  of  the  heavenly 
city  are  out  of  date.  In  modern  civilisation  they 
are,  if  not  formally  rescinded,  cast  aside  as  obso- 
lete. The  powders  of  the  world  need  something 
more  akin  to  themselves  than  a  "  conversation  in 
heaven ; "  and  to  uphold  their  religious  contradic- 
tions, they  must  find  a  higher  unity  than  the 
Church  of  Christ. 

All  these  things  engender  a  specious  outward 
Christianity,  which  descends  from  age  to  age,  on 
the  surface  of  nations  and  households,  and  under 
it  there  is  often  no  fellowship  with  the  world 
unseen ;  no  living  hold  of  the  Head,  which  is  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.    This  is  our  peril  now.   Laxity, 


X]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  195 

indifference,  false  theories  of  charity,  fear  of  being 
derided  for  narrowness,  or  of  being  assailed  for 
tenacity,  make  men  shrink  from  their  heavenly 
allegiance.  They  try  to  make  it  chime  with  the 
policy  of  the  world.  And  where  these  clash,  the 
world  has  its  will,  because  it  is  near  and  impos- 
ing :  the  Faith  must  give  way,  because  the  city  of 
God  is  silent,  abiding  its  time  in  heaven.  Deep- 
workino-  evils  eat  out  the  heart  of  such  a  Chris- 
tianity,  whether  in  nations  or  individuals.  Vain- 
glory, worldly  greatness,  luxury,  softness,  traffic 
and  barter,  wealth  and  selfishness, — these  make 
men  and  empires  to  be  secret  and  stubborn  ene- 
mies of  the  Cross  and  kingdom  of  Christ.  Its 
realities  arc  hateful,  because  sharp  and  rebuk- 
ing. Worldliness,  folhes,  and  pleasures,  with  the 
lusts  which  arc  never  far  apart  from  them,  turn 
the  whole  heart  from  God.  St.  Paul  says  of  all 
such,  "who  mind  earthly  things,"  that  is,  they  buy 
and  sell,  and  grow  fond  of  their  gains ;  ever  busy, 
ever  full  of  thought  and  care,  policy  and  scheming. 
They  live  among  earthly  things,  till  they  catch 
their  taint,  and  themselves  become  earthly.  And 
all  these,  and  they  with  them,  must  "  perish  with 
the  using." 

Such  men  may  be  known  by  this  —  they  never 
forego  any  thing  for  tin;  sake  of  Christ ;  gain,  ho- 
nour, place,  case,  pleasure,  and  the  like.     When 


196  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

the  trial  comes,  they  choose  the  world ;  and  sell 
their  Master  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  or  for  a 
bauble,  or  for  the  gambling  hope  of  wealth — for 
an  ambitious  dream ;  whereby  we  may  know  that 
they  are  none  of  His. 

3.  Lastly,  we  may  learn,  that  there  may  be 
living  and  habitual  conversation  in  heaven,  under 
the  aspect  of  the  most  simple,  ordinary  life.  For 
on  what  does  it  depend  but  on  these  two  things,  on 
faith,  which  keeps  alive  the  consciousness, — or,  if 
I  may  so  say,  the  vision  of  the  city  of  God, — and 
on  the  obedience  of  our  heart  to  its  laws  of  love  ? 
And  what  are  faith  and  obedience  but  realities  of 
the  Spirit,  which  all  who  desire  may  attain  ? 

The  greatest  mysteries  of  Christ's  kingdom, 
like  the  highest  laws  of  creation,  are  the  broadest 
and  laro'est  in  their  rano^e.  The  communion  of 
saints,  the  consciousness  of  Christ's  presence,  and 
of  our  fellowship  with  all  who  are  united  with 
Him,  is  an  article  of  our  Baptismal  faith ;  and 
may  be,  therefore,  universal.  It  is  not  the  intel- 
lectual and  the  contemplative,  the  retired  and 
highly  favoured,  alone,  who  may  converse  with  the 
heavenly  city,  and  have  fellowship  with  all  who 
dwell  in  it.  We  live  too  little  in  the  presence  of 
the  world  unseen.  Even  religious  minds  are  too 
little  conscious  of  it.  If  some  high  mountain  rose 
above   our   dwelling,    we    should    never   pass   our 


X.J  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  197 

threshold,  or  look  abroad,  without  seeing  it.  The 
first  lights  of  the  morning  would  fall  upon  it ;  the 
last  glow  of  evening  would  redden  it ;  all  day  long 
the  sun's  heat  would  burn  upon  it ;  all  our  dis- 
tances would  be  measured,  all  our  paths  guided 
by  it.  Such  to  the  eyes  of  faith  is  the  Mount 
Zion  which  is  in  heaven.  It  hangs  over  us,  and 
we  dwell  upon  its  base.  If  only  our  eyes  were 
open,  as  those  of  Elisha's  servant  in  Dothan,  we 
should  be  more  conscious  of  our  heavenly  fellow- 
ship than  of  our  earthly  friends.  With  them  would 
be  our  true  home ;  the  only  world  of  reality ;  our 
only  abiding  rest.  This  would  be  the  universal 
consolation  of  every  member  of  Christ ;  the  secret 
stay  of  souls  under  the  burden  of  this  weary  world. 
Wheresoever  we  be,  we  may  look  upward,  and  see 
"  Jerusalem  which  is  above,"  *'  the  mother  of  us 
all."  When  we  kneel  down,  it,  as  it  were,  de- 
scends, and  we  enter  into  it ;  we  pass  through  its 
open  gates,  and  fall  down  even  before  the  pre- 
sence of  the  King.  But  at  all  times,  even  tlu; 
busiest,  and  in  all  lawful  ways,  even  the  most 
crowded  by  the  world,  we  are  still  within  its  shel- 
ter and  its  sphere.  A  holy  life  is  its  very  gate. 
And  let  us  always  remember  that  holiness  does 
not  consist  in  doing  uncomiiKui  things,  but  in  doing 
every  thing  with  purity  of  heart.  It  is  made  up 
of  relative  duties  nnd  of  habitual  devotion.     Such 


198  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Serm. 

works  of  faith,  patience,  and  charity,  as  our  life 
admits,  even  to  the  very  lowest  state  may  be  sanc- 
tified. Some  of  the  greatest  saints  of  God  have 
been  formed  in  the  humblest  paths  of  life,  in  pri- 
vate homes  ;  as  Anna,  and  Simeon,  and  in  all  ages 
of  the  Church  ;  for  secret  fellowship  with  God  is 
the  source  of  all  sanctity.  The  world  soon  wears 
out  and  withers  up  the  soul  which  is  familiar  with 
its  works,  but  a  stranger  to  the  Divine  presence. 
If  we  do  not  converse  with  God  in  daily  worship, 
we  shall  soon  be  swallowed  up  by  the  attractions  of 
this  earthly  state.  In  the  temptations  of  the  world 
there  is  this  special  danger,  that  they  are  inces- 
sant. There  is  no  moment  when  they  are  not 
upon  us.  Like  the  law  of  gravitation,  which  uni- 
versally takes  eifect  wheresoever  it  is  not  kept  out 
by  a  special  counteraction,  so  it  is  with  the  cares, 
pleasures,  labours,  anxieties  of  life.  Nothing  but 
fellowship  with  God  keeps  them  in  check.  The 
moment  we  relax,  they  resume  their  power.  The 
earth  is  nearer  to  us  than  the  heavenly  city ;  and 
all  our  affinities  are  more  wuth  earth  than  hea- 
ven. We  need,  therefore,  something  more  than 
general  intentions,  and  general  habits  of  religion, 
to  keep  ourselves  stedfast  to  our  true  home.  We 
need  some  special  and  definite  rules ;  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  a  careful  reminding  of  ourselves,  every 
morning,  of  the  peculiar  dangers  of  our  calling  in 


X.]  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  199 

life,  and  of  the  particular  sins  to  which  we  are  most 
inclined ;  with  a  prayer  that  God  will  keep  us  all 
day  long,  by  His  Spirit,  from  tempting  ourselves. 
At  night,  again,  we  ought  to  review  the  day,  and 
see  in  what  we  have  fallen,  praying  His  forgiveness. 
And  this  habit  of  watchfulness  needs  two  great 
supports, — the  one,  a  daily  recollection  of  the  city 
of  God,  and  the  other,  an  habitual  consciousness 
of  God's  presence.     And  these,  again,  run  up  into 
the  true  sources  of  all  spiritual  strength,   which 
are  frequent  communion  —  as  often  as,  if  possible 
not   less   than,    once    a   month — and    persevering 
prayer.     If  we  will  watchfully  and  patiently  walk 
by  this   path,   then  no  matter  where  we  be  :    in 
the   throng    and   turmoil   of  great   cities,    in    the 
crowded  ways  of  life,  you  may  live  as  citizens  of 
heaven.      There  need   be    no   alFectcd  sinoularitv 
of  gait  or  speech,  nothing   outwardly  unlike   the 
busy  world   around   you  ;    though    you  be  all  es- 
tranfjed  within.     It  is  a  blessed  thought,  that  no 
lawful  state  is  a  bar  to  any  aspiration,  to  any  re- 
ward in  the  kingdom  of  God.     Our  desires  may  go 
up  direct  from  the  thickest  entanglements  of  life, 
to  the  throne  before  which  ascend   tlie  ])rayers  of 
saints,     in  ihe  midst  of  tliis  (!vil  world,  "  ihc  Lord 
knowcth    them    that    are    His."     They    are    lillcd 
up,    as   it  w(n'e,   out  of  time,    and    have    their   lot 
among  those  who  are  already  partakers  of  eternity. 


200  THE  CITY  OF  GOD.  [Seem.  X. 

They  go  in  and  out  of  the  heavenly  gates,  which 
are  open  evermore :  for  '*  the  gates  of  it  shall  not 
be  shut  at  all  by  day,"  and  "  there  shall  be  no  night 
there."  Little  as  we  often  think  it,  there  are  at 
our  side  those  who  shall  be  high  in  the  city  of 
God.  Many  that  are  slighted  and  despised, — many 
that  now  seem  afar  off, — are  ripening  to  be  saints. 
At  that  day  "  many  that  are  first  shall  be  last,  and 
the  last  first :"  "  they  shall  come  from  the  east, 
and  from  the  west,  and  from  the  north,  and  from 
the  south,"  from  all  lands,  and  from  all  ages,  from 
all  ways  and  paths  of  life,  "  and  shall  sit  down  in 
the  kingdom  of  God."^  Be  this  our  prayer,  our 
lot,  our  rest  for  ever. 

1  St.  Luke  xiii.  29. 


SEKMON  XL 


THE  CROSS  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN. 


PniLippiANS  iii.  18. 
"  Many  walk,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell  you 
even  weeping,  that   they  are  the   enemies   of  the   cross   of 
Christ." 

St.  Paul  is  here  speaking  neither  of  Jews  nor 
of  heathens,  but  of  Christians.  These  enemies  of 
the  Cross  were  not  blasphemers  or  persecutors  of 
the  Lord  of  glory,  but  baptized  sinners  :  men 
who  bore  the  sign  and  name  of  Christ ;  but  by 
their  sins  crucified  the  Son  of  God  afresh  unto 
themselves.  They  were  partly  false  apostles,  who 
began  even  then  to  divide  the  Church  :  men  of 
unsound  doctrine  and  of  impure  life  ;  together 
with  those  who  followed  tlunn  :  they  were  partly 
also  the  sinful  members  of  the  Pliilippian  Church, 
wlio  had  fallen  from  their  lirst  faith,  mikI  lived  in 
the  lusts  of  the  world  and  of  the  flesli,  still  pro- 
fessing Christianity.     No  doubt,  St.  Paul  is  speak- 


202  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

ing  of  gross  sinners,  but  not  of  gross  sinners  only. 
He  here  lays  down  a  principle,  which  applies  to  all 
sin,  of  every  kind  and  of  every  measure,  whether 
great  or  small.  He  says  of  such  men,  that  "  they 
are  enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ."  This  is  the 
special  guilt  of  sin  in  Christians.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, see  more  fully  what  he  means.  He  does  not 
mean,  that  sinful  Christians,  openly  and  in  words, 
deny  or  blaspheme  the  Gospel ;  nor  that  they  use 
force  to  persecute  the  Church  and  body  of  Christ. 
For  it  often  happens  that  Christians,  as  they  go 
deeper  in  sin,  all  the  more  profess  faith  in  the 
freeness  of  God's  grace,  the  fulness  of  Christ's  for- 
giveness, the  perfection  of  His  one  sacrifice,  the 
sufficiency  of  His  atonement :  that  is,  they  become 
Antinomian ;  and  all  the  more  boast  of  faith  in 
words,  as  they  are  enemies  of  the  Christ  in  deed 
and  in  truth. 

How  is  it,  then,  that  every  sin,  even  the  very 
least,  makes  men  enemies  of  the  Cross  of  Christ  ? 

1.  First,  because  it  was  sin,  that,  so  to  speak, 
created  the  Cross  ;  sin  made  a  Redeemei*  necessary. 
It  opened  some  deep  breach  in  the  order  of  life  and 
in  the  unity  of  God's  kingdom,  which  could  be  no 
way  healed  but  by  the  atonement.  "  By  one  man 
sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin  ; 
and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men :" — a  new  do- 
minion was    set   up,    where,   before,    God   reigned 


XL]  THE  MEASURE   OF   SIN.  203 

alone.  Out  of  the  abyss  of  the  eternal  world  arose 
up  some  awful  power,  some  strong  necessity — the 
antafjonist  of  God.  One  act  of  one  man,  the  dis- 
obedience  of  one  will,  called  up  a  whole  world  of 
rebellion,  and  let  in  all  the  powers  of  death  upon 
the  works  of  God.  When  we  speak  of  these 
things,  we  speak  of  what  we  cannot  understand. 
The  depth  is  too  dark  for  us.  The  voice  which 
issues  out  of  the  eternal  throne  has  said,  "  In  the 
day  that  thou  eatest  thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die ;" 
"  The  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;"  "  The  soul  that 
sinneth,  it  shall  die."  This  is  all  we  can  know 
until  we  are  beyond  the  grave.  Then,  it  may  be, 
the  powers  of  death  will  be  revealed  to  those  over 
whom  it  has  no  more  dominion.  For  the  present 
time,  it  is  enough  to  know,  that  there  could  be  no 
life  in  the  world,  when  fallen,  except  by  the  atone- 
ment of  the  Son  of  God.  And  lie,  of  Ilis  free 
choice  and  eternal  love,  gave  Himself  to  die  in  our 
behalf.  The  Cross  broke  through  tliesc  absolute 
and  awful  necessities,  and  henceforth  "death  and 
hell"  are  **  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire,  which  is  the 
second  death."'  Here  wc  may  see  the  enmitv  of 
sin.  If  there  had  been  no  sin  in  the  worhl  until 
now,  tlio  sin  we  liave  committed,  each  one  of  us, 
this  day  would  have  demanded  the  sacrifice  of  r(>- 
conciliation.  Such  is  th(!  intensity  of  one  oficncc  ; 
'  Rev.  XX.  15. 


204  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

such  its  infinity  of  guilt.  We  may  say,  one  by 
one,  "  Though  there  had  been  no  sinner  upon 
earth  but  myself,  I  should  have  created  the  neces- 
sity which  nailed  the  Son  of  God  upon  the  Tree. 
Though  sufficient  to  redeem  all  the  world,  yet  no- 
thinof  less  than  His  blood  could  redeem  me  alone. 
Infinite  in  price,  His  death  is  needed  to  blot  out 
my  sin  alone,  which  is  infinite  in  guilt." 

2.  And,  again,  not  only  does  sin  both  create 
and  multiply  this  necessity,  but,  so  to  speak,  it  con- 
tinues to  frustrate  the  work  of  the  Cross  and  Pas- 
sion of  the  Son  of  God.  It  demands  His  death, 
and  it  defeats  its  virtues :  it  invokes  it  from  the 
mercies  of  God,  and  it  wars  against  it  by  direct 
hostility  :  it  first  makes  it  necessary,  and  then  would 
make  it  fruitless. 

For  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  was  shed  to 
blot  out  the  sin  of  the  world ;  but  sin  blots  out 
again,  from  the  soul  that  commits  it,  the  blood 
of  sprinkling  "wherewith  it  was  sanctified."  It 
plucks  away,  one  by  one,  the  souls  for  whom  Christ 
died  ;  and  gives  the  key  to  those  fealrful  words, 
*'Many  are  called,  hut  few  are  chosen."  "Strait 
is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way,  which  leadeth 
unto  life,  B.ndfew  there  be  that  find  it."^  This  is 
a  mystery  we  can  only  refer  to  the  mystery  of  the 
fall  and  to  the  origin  of  evil.  The  Lamb  of  God 
'  St.  Matt.  vii.  14. 


XL]  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  205 

hath  taken  away  the  sin  of  the  world,  yet  the  elect 
alone  are  saved ;  and  "  the  whole  world  lieth  in 
wickedness."  In  every  soul,  sin  is  still  striving 
to  tear  it  away  from  the  life  to  which  through  the 
Cross  it  is  united.  In  every  one  of  us  this  whole 
mystery  is  at  work  :  Michael  and  his  angels  fight- 
ins  acrainst  the  devil  and  his  angels  :  a  fearful 
conflict  between  spiritual  hosts  contending  for  our 
eternal  destiny.  And  in  all  the  earth  the  same 
warfare  is  renewed  :  the  world  wrestling  against 
the  Church,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  regenerate,  who 
have  made  themselves  again  servants  of  sin,  against 
the  spirit  of  their  regeneration  v;hich  is  given  to 
us  by  our  crucified  Redeemer. 

3.  And,  once  more,  sin  makes  men  enemies 
of  the  Cross,  because  it  is,  in  virtue  and  spirit, 
a  renewal  of  the  crucifixion.  Therefore  St.  Paul 
says,  "It  is  impossible  for  tliose  who  were  once 
enlightened,  and  have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift, 
and  were  made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
have  tasted  the  good  word  of  God,  nnd  the  powers 
of  the  world  to  come,  if  they  shall  fall  away,  to 
renew  them  again  unto  repentance ;  seeing  they 
•crucify  to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresli,  mikI 
put  llim  to  all  open  shanu^'"  It  acts  tin;  crucifix- 
ion over  ti'^ain.  And  tlierefore  our  Lord,  thouirh 
He  was  already  in  the  l)liss  and  glory  of  the 
'  Ilcb.  vi.  4-G. 


206  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

Father,  cried,  saying,  "  Saul,  Saul,  why  perse- 
cutest  thou  Me  ?"  In  like  manner  to  every  one 
of  us  He  stretches  forth  His  pierced  hands,  and 
saith,  "  See  what  I  bare  for  thee,  and  woundest 
thou  Me  again  ?"  St.  John  also  writes,  "  Behold 
He  conieth  with  clouds ;  and  every  eye  shall  see 
Him,  and  they  also  which  pierced  Him."'  He 
does  not  only  mean  Pilate  and  Herod,  the  priests 
and  His  crucifiers  on  Mount  Calvary,  but  all 
sinners,  both  before  and  since  His  Passion  ;  the 
whole  conspiracy  of  sinful  and  rebellious  wills,  by 
whom  He  has  been  betrayed  and  bound,  buffeted 
and  wounded,  from  the  beginning  until  His  com- 
ing again.  In  truth,  it  was  not  the  hammer  and 
the  nails  which  crucified  Him  ;  nor  the  Roman 
soldiers  who  wielded  the  weapons  of  His  Passion ; 
nor  the  arm  and  the  hand  which  smote  the  sharp 
iron  into  the  wood — these  were  but  the  blind 
material  instruments  of  His  agony.  His  true  cru- 
cifiers were  our  sins, — and  we,  ourselves — the  sin- 
ners, for  whom  He  died.  This  was  the  real  power 
of  darkness  which  set  in  motion  all  the  array  of 
death.  Wilful  sins  renew,  in  virtue  and  by  impli- 
cation, the  wounds  that  were  sufi^jred  on  Mount 
Calvary.  And  this  reveals  in  us  the  true  depth 
and  measure  of  our  guilt.  By  our  offences  we  not 
only  create  the  necessity  for  an  atonement  while 

^  Rev.  i.  7. 


XI.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  207 

we  frustrate  its  effects,  but  we  wound  Him  again, 
who,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  died  for  us.  The 
chief  guilt  of  sin  is  its  ingratitude  —  the  unthank- 
fulness  of  heart  which  endures  to  act  over  again 
the  Passion  of  our  Eedeemer.  The  very  in- 
stincts of  nature  would  shrink  from  such  unfeel- 
ing hardness.  Let  us  but  put  it  to  ourselves :  let 
us  call  to  mind  the  sufferings  of  any  one  whom 
we  have  loved  and  tended  in  pain :  the  sights 
and  the  sounds  of  those  dark  hours  in  which 
we  saw  them  bowing  under  the  burden  of  mortal 
agony,  —  all  these  things  are  fixed  in  our  souls  as 
thorns  which  can  never  be  plucked  out.  Every 
remembrance  of  them  pierces  to  the  quick :  even 
sudden  and  transient  recollections  thrill  throuirh  us. 
The  visions  of  sorrow,  which  a  tone  or  a  strain 
of  music,  or  the  first  lights  of  morning  waken  in 
our  memories,  break  up  fountains  of  tears,  and 
make  our  hearts  to  flow  with  emotion.  Would  wc; 
bring  all  these  back  again  ?  AVould  we  renew  all 
these  sorrows  and  pains  once  more  ?  Do  our  hearls 
so  much  as  willingly  consent  to  the  mere  passing 
thought  of  their  enduring  afresh  the  last  struggles 
of  distress  ?  Would  you  sliijht  their  known  de- 
sire  ?  Would  you  do  what  they  forl)ade,  or  looked 
upon,  even  in  silence,  witli  snd  mid  loving  re- 
proof? And  yet,  when  we  sin,  wliat  rise  do  we 
towards  Ilini  who   for   us   hung   ujxrn   llic  Cross? 


208  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

The  ingratitude  of  our  sin  renews,  so  far  as  can 
be,  the  very  act  of  crucifixion.  It  is,  then,  no 
mere  figure  of  speech,  but  a  very  deep  and  appal- 
ling reality,  that  sin  makes  every  soul  that  wil- 
fully offends  an  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ,  by 
converting  it  into  a  direct  spiritual  antagonist  of 
the  will  and  intent  of  our  merciful  Lord  in  the 
mystery  of  His  Passion.  And  yet  how  little  do 
we  lay  this  to  heart.  Therefore,  we  shall  do  well 
to  go  somewhat  into  detail,  and  to  bring  this  sub- 
ject to  bear  upon  the  particulars  of  our  life. 

1.  Hence  we  may  see,  first,  the  exceeding  sin- 
fulness of  every  single  act  of  wilful  sin.  V\e  de- 
ceive ourselves  by  dealing  with  our  sins  in  a  heap. 
If  we  would  weigh  them  by  a  just  measure,  we 
must  treat  them  singly.  Each  one,  taken  alone, 
contains  the  whole  principle  of  rebellion  against 
God,  and  is  united  to  the  necessity  of  the  cruci- 
fixion. Our  whole  will,  that  is,  our  whole  moral 
power  and  being,  is  in  every  deliberate  act.  We 
all  acknowledge  this  in  the  greater  sins,  such  as 
bloodshed,  blasphemy,  hypocrisy,  and  the  like.  Of 
these  there  is  no  question.  But  what  was  the  sin 
by  which  the  world  fell,  and  mankind  died  upon 
the  earth  ?  Was  that  first  transgression,  accord- 
inof  to  the  measures  which  men  have  invented  for 
the  Eternal  Judge,  a  great  sin  or  a  small  ?  Was 
it  a  sin  of  the  spirit  or  of  the  flesh? — a  refined 


XI.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  209 

or  a  gross  sin  ?  —  a  sm  implying  corruption  of  the 
heart,  or  consistent  with  purity,  and  the  benevo- 
lence in  which  men  place  their  perfection  ?  What 
was  that  sin  in  its  life  and  reality  ?  It  was  a 
willing  variance  with  the  will  of  God  ;  a  consent 
of  the  heart  to  what  God  had  forbidden.  And 
what,  then,  is  pride,  vanity,  anger,  worldliness, 
self-love,  ill-temper,  falsehood,  insincerity?  What 
are  these,  of  which  men  make  such  little  count? 
Are  they  not,  every  one,  as  they  are  commit- 
ted, even  in  single  acts,  sins  of  a  high  and  guilty 
character?  Is  not  every  consent  of  the  will  to 
sin,  a  deliberate  participation  in  the  wilful  re- 
bellion against  the  will  of  God,  which  pierced 
the  Son  of  God  ?  Shall  we  say,  "  I  did  not  think 
of  this  ?"  Can  we  say  in  the  day  of  His  coming, 
*'  Lord,  I  did  not  knozv^  or  I  did  not  remember, 
or  I  did  not  'iiilcnd,^'  and  the  like  ?  AVill  lie 
not  answer,  "And  wliy  did  you  not  think  and 
remember  ?  Was  it  as  hard  to  remember  the 
Cross  for  My  sake,  as  it  was  to  die  upon  it  ibr 
yours  ?  Will  you  clear  yourselves  by  pleading  in- 
sensibility ?  To  be  forgetful  of  My  agony,  is  it 
not  to  be  ungrateful  ?  And  in  a,  redeemed  soul 
what  sin  is  greater?"  Shall  we,  then,  dare  to 
say  now  what  we  shall  not  dare  to  plead  al  that 
day?  No  J  let  us  believe;  it:  tlu;  Cross  is  ihc 
only  true  measure  of  our  sin.     Let  us  not   weigh 

VOL.  III.  p 


210  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

it  ill  the  false  balances  of  sinners,  or  by  the  double 
weights  of  our  own  self-love.  Let  us  try  it  by  this 
true  and  only  measure.  The  sins  of  our  whole  life, 
— manhood,  youth,  and  childhood, — we  must  bring 
them,  one  by  one,  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  and 
there  learn  their  true  meaning,  which  is  nothing 
less  than  the  death  and  passion  of  our  Lord. 

2.  Another  practical  truth  we  may  learn  is, 
the  sinfulness  of  every  habitual  state  or  temper  of 
mind  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  our  Saviour. 

I  have  hitherto  spoken  of  acts,  in  which  the 
consent  of  the  will  is  given.  There  is  a  still  more 
subtil  danger  which  besets  us.  When  a  man's  con- 
science is  awakened,  he  leaves  off  by  degrees  his 
outward  acts  of  sin.  And  yet  the  inward  sins  of 
the  spirit  are  often  fondly  cherished  in  secret.  A 
great  amount  of  concealed  mental  sinfulness  may 
lie  hid  under  a  life  which  is  outwardly  without 
blame.  The  soul  may  consent  to  itself  in  its  own 
images  and  thoughts  of  evil :  and  so  keep  up  the 
virulence  of  sin,  though  never  suffered  to  betray 
itself  in  acts. 

This  needs  but  little  illustration  ;  at  least  in 
some  of  its  chief  forms.  There  are,  however,  a 
few  examples  we  may  take,  not  without  advantage. 
For  instance,  how  common  a  sin  is  secret  pride.  It 
may  seldom  betray  itself,  and  yet  it  may  be  intense. 
Worldly  pride,  —  whether  of  birth,  rank,  riches,  or, 


XI]  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  211 

what  is  still  more  inward  and  unbending,  pride  of 
intellectual  power, — is  often  the  true  governing 
spirit  of  the  heart,  when  least  suspected.  Pride  is, 
so  to  speak,  too  proud  to  expose  itself.  It  would 
be  offended,  if  it  were  to  become  notorious  and 
censured.  It  therefore  dwells  apart,  bracing  itself 
up  in  secret,  and  giving  to  all  the  affections  of  the 
soul  a  high  and  supercilious  tone.  What  is  more 
at  enmity  with  the  spirit  of  the  Cross  ?  Perhaps 
nothing,  unless  we  except  spiritual  pride.  And  this 
kind  of  pride,  also,  shews  itself  in  many  ways. 
Sometimes  in  the  pride  of  strictness,  that  is,  in 
rigour  of  observance  and  regularity ;  in  a  sort  of 
Christian  Pharisaism,  which  leads  to  want  of  ten- 
derness, and  of  condescension  towards  the  weak, 
penitent,  and  poor  ;  to  uncharitable  j  udgments,  and 
separation  from  brethren ;  though  this,  perhaps,  is 
the  least  injurious  sort  of  spiritual  pride  :  because 
it  is  the  most  open  and  visible  ;  the  most  human 
and  material,  if  I  may  so  say.  There  is  a  far  worse 
kind,  which,  instead  of  building  itself  upon  regula- 
rity, sets  itself  up  upon  disobedience.  It  does  not 
take  a  system  out  of  itself  for  its  support ;  but  rears 
itself  u])on  itself  j  up(m  the  conceit  of  its  own  suffi- 
cient strength.  It  is  its  own  centre  and  its  own 
foundation.  This  is  the  pride  which  owns  no  rule 
of  interpretaticm  but  its  own  judgment,  or  its  own 
private  s])irit;   or,  what  is  mor(5  dangerous,  its  own 


212  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

supposed  illumination.  Such  spirits  make  it  a 
point  of  piety  to  be  superior  to  legal  appointments 
and  carnal  ordinances  ;  to  Catholic  tradition,  ge- 
neral councils,  the  visible  Church,  the  Christian 
priesthood,  the  order  of  Divine  worship,  the  matter 
of  the  Holy  Sacraments.  In  a  word,  they  will  be 
found,  at  last,  to  own  no  revelation  but  their  own 
thoughts  of  God,  no  Church  but  themselves.  Little 
as  such  people  think  it,  they  claim  to  be  inspired ; 
to  be  prophets,  except  that  their  predictions  are  not 
verified ;  to  be  apostles,  except  that  they  neither 
labour  nor  suffer  for  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  It 
may  be  said,  that  this  is  an  overcharged  picture. 
Granted  that  it  is  a  full-length  exposure  of  the 
spirit  which  relies  upon  itself,  conforms  to  the 
Church  as  a  thing  indifferent,  and  calls  the  Holy 
Sacrament  an  ordinance.  But  it  is  the  same  spi- 
rit, differing  only  in  degree.  The  common  forms 
of  it  are,  of  course,  fainter  and  less  pronounced. 
Outward  conformity  to  the  order  of  the  Church, 
arising  from  custom  or  private  relations,  masks 
this  fault  in  many  characters.  In  them  it  shews 
itself  chiefly  by  slighting  the  grace  of  God  in 
humbler  souls,  and  by  esteeming  obedience  to  the 
Church,  formality  ;  fasting,  self-righteousness  ;  and 
faith,  superstition.  What  fellowship  has  such  a 
temper  with  Him  who  received  a  sinner's  baptism 
in  Jordan,  and  washed  His  disciples'  feet  ? 


XI.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  218 

Take,  again,  the  mental  sins  of  levity,  personal 
vanity,  frivolous  conversation,  love  of  dress,  glitter, 
and  festivities.  Is  not  the  indulgence  of  these 
faults  an  habitual  provocation  of  that  Divine  zeal 
which  consumed  our  Master  in  the  sacrifice  of 
Himself?  What  was  the  fervour  of  His  ardent 
burning  love  ?  of  His  heart  all  on  fire  for  us  ?  Can 
we  be  all  lukewarm  and  languid  in  return,  and  be 
held  guiltless  ?  What,  then,  shall  we  be,  if,  through 
lack  of  love,  we  sink  into  softness,  self-indulgence, 
self-pampering,  and  love  of  ourselves  ;  into  a  deli- 
cate self-considering  carefulness  which  fixes  all  our 
thoughts  upon  our  own  pleasures,  comforts,  health, 
happiness,  and  the  like  ?  A  love  of  self  is,  in  truth, 
the  very  soul  of  sin.  All  sins  are  but  as  circles  is- 
suing out  from  this  one  productive  centre,  expand- 
ing some  more  and  some  less  widely,  inclosing  a 
narrower  or  a  larger  field  of  our  spiritual  life. 
And  what  is  such  a  temper  but  a  deliberate  con- 
tradiction of  the  Cross  and  character  of  Him  who 
"pleased  not  Himself;'"  who  "gave  His  back  to 
the  smiters,  and  His  cheeks  to  tluMU  that  plucked 
off  the  hair :""  and  when  He  could  give  no  more, 
"  through  the  Eternal  Spirit  offered  Himself  with- 
out spot  to  God.'"  Sucli  sins  as  we  now  speak  of 
are  the  more  dangerous  because  they  are  less  gross; 
because  they  do  not  issue  in  startling  acts,  but  are 

»  Rom.  XV.  3.  Isaiah  1.  G.  ^  Ilcb.  ix.  14. 


214  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

Avrouglit  into  the  state  and  texture  of  the  mind 
itself.  They  have  so  little  that  is  sensual  about 
them,  and  arc  so  refined  ;  they  are  so  free  from 
outward  transgressions  of  the  second  table  of  the 
law;  they  wear  so  much  of  the  array  of  light.  But, 
nevertheless,  they  concentrate  themselves  with  a 
fatal  intensity  against  the  spirit  of  humiliation ; 
against  humility,  self-denial,  self-abasement,  com- 
passion, and  love. 

To  bring  this  home  to  our  own  case  :  how  does 
our  past  life  appear,  seen  thus  under  the  light  of 
the  crucifixion  ?  How  will  our  sins  bear  to  be  mea- 
sured by  this  rule  ?  What  is  the  secret  temper  of 
our  spirit  now  at  this  present  time  ?  Is  it  hum- 
bled, broken,  mortified  ;  or  fearless,  self-supported, 
and  erect  ?  These  are  questions  we  must  ask,  and 
answer  with  sincerity  and  a  godly  fear :  for  they 
will  be  asked  in  the  day  when  we  shall  see  our 
Redeemer  in  the  judgment.  Let  us  clearly  dis- 
cover now  what  we  must  confess  at  that  day.  If 
we  be  living  in  a  high-minded,  selfish,  loveless 
spirit,  let  us  lose  no  time  to  lay  down  the  arms 
of  our  rebellion  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross  ;  let  us 
there  break  the  weapons  of  our  pride  in  sunder, 
and  bow  down  our  will  beneath  His  pierced  feet. 

And,  as  a  part  of  our  submission,  let  us  take 
two  very  simple  practical  rules. 

One  is  :  when  we  are  tempted  by  any  approach 


XI.l  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.  '215 

of  evil,  to  fix  our  eyes  inwardly  upon  Him,  hang- 
ing upon  the  Cross.  Let  us  then  call  to  mind 
His  five  wounds,  and  His  crown  of  thorns.  This 
will  abate  our  pride,  break  our  will,  and  cast  out 
our  evil  thoughts.  If  the  temptation  be  strong  and 
abiding,  keep  your  eyes  upon  Him  until  you  are 
delivered.  Look  upon  Him,  as  upon  the  true  Ser- 
pent of  brass,  till  the  fever  and  the  poison  of  your 
sin  be  healed.  Go,  if  you  can,  into  some  secret 
place,  and  kneel  down  in  His  sight ;  and,  there, 
stay  upon  your  knees  till  the  sting  of  sin  is  allayed, 
and  the  temptation  passed  away. 

The  other  rule  is :  to  pray,  day  by  day,  that 
our  will  may  be  crucified  with  Him.  This  prayer, 
if  we  persevere,  will,  by  His  grace,  slay  the  enmity 
that  is  in  us,  and  make  us,  not  enemies,  but  lovers 
of  His  Cross.  St.  Paul  says,  "  They  that  are 
Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh  with  the  affections 
and  lusts ;'"  and  again,  he  says  still  more,  *'  I  am 
crucified  with  Christ."'  This  shall  be  even  our 
state  at  last.  Happy  and  blessed  are  they  who  are 
dead  to  themselves,  alive  to  Him  alone.  Let  us, 
therefore,  pray  Him  so  to  unite  us  to  the  spirit 
of  His  crucifixion,  that  w(!  ui;iy  die  to  sin,  to 
the  world,  to  our  own  will  ;  to  ;ill  tluit  flatters, 
fosters,  strengthens  the  love  of  ourselves.  As  in 
Baptism  we  were  signed  with  His  life-giving  sign, 

•  Gal.  V.  24.  ^  II).  ii.  20. 


216  THE  CROSS  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN.     [Serm,  XI. 

and  charged  to  fight  manfully  under  His  banner, 
so  let  us  pray,  that  in  life  and  in  death  we  may 
be  under  the  shadow  of  His  Cross.  Howsoever 
He  may  fulfil  this  prayer,  be  not  afraid.  It  may 
be  He  will  send  you  sickness,  or  sorrow,  or  con- 
tradiction of  sinners,  or  suffering  of  some  kind. 
For  your  prayer  is  an  appeal  to  His  Passion.  He 
may  suffer  you  to  receive  the  stigmas  which  the 
world  printed  on  Him.  Be  it  so.  Let  come  what 
may,  if  only  we  have  upon  us  the  marks  of  our 
crucified  Master  at  that  day  when  the  sign  of  the 
Son  of  Man  shall  appear,  and  the  angels  "  shall 
gather  His  elect  from  the  four  winds  of  heaven." 


SEKMON  XII. 


THE  CROSS  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE. 


Ephesians  iii.  19. 
"  And  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge." 

After  three  years,  spent,  day  by  day,  in  teaching 
the  faith  of  the  Gospel  to  the  Church  in  Ephcsus, 
there  was  still  something  which  St.  Paul  could 
not  make  known.  He  had  declared  to  them  '*  all 
the  counsel  of  God."'  He  had  taught  all  that 
language  could  utter  ;  all  that  intellect  could  re- 
ceive. But  there  was  something  yet  to  be  taught 
and  learned.  And  this,  all  apostle  as  he  was,  full 
of  tlie  Holy  Ghost,  rnj)t  into  tlu?  tliird  licavcu, 
partaker  in  the  secrets  of  paradise,  lie  could  not 
teach  them.  Not  that  he  did  not  know  it.  lie 
had  learned  it  at  mid-day  in  the  way  to  Damascus, 
in  the  solitudes  of  Arabia,  in  all  the  warfare  of  a 
'  Acts  XX.  27. 


'218  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

life  of  the  Cross,  now  drawing  on  towards  its 
crown.  Yet  thouofh  he  knew  it  vfith.  this  ener- 
getic  fulness,  and  burned  to  make  it  known,  it  was 
among  those  "unspeakable  words  which  it  is  not 
lawful  for  a  man  to  utter."  The  utterance  of 
man  was  too  narrow  for  it.  Therefore^  after  he 
had  forced  all  the  power  of  speech  into  one  word, 
lano^uao^e  failed  him  for  very  weakness :  he  could 
only  approach  to  what  he  would  say  by  contra- 
diction, "  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  pass- 
eth  knowledge."  Words  cannot  express,  for  words 
cannot  contain  it.  There  can  be  no  utterance  of 
this  love  by  sounds  of  this  outer  world  of  sense. 
It  must  be  learned  inwardly  before  the  throne  of 
God.  Apostles  preach,  but  the  book  of  the  Spirit 
has  seven  seals ;  and  One  alone  can  open  them. 
The  science  of  the  saints  has  but  one  Teacher, 
w^ho  is  both  truth  and  understanding ;  both  lan- 
guage and  power :  He  both  reveals,  and  gives  the 
capacity  to  learn ;  He  speaks,  and  Himself  opens 
the  ear  to  hear.  This  is  what  St.  Paul  could  not 
teach — the  surpassing  love  of  Christ.  He  had  no 
language  to  express  ;  they  had  no  understanding 
to  receive  it.  To  reveal  it  is  the  office  of  Christ 
Himself;  therefore  St.  Paul  commends  his  flock  by 
prayer  to  the  one  great  Teacher :  that,  as  he  goes 
on  to  say,  "  ye  may  be  strengthened  with  might 
by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man ;  that  Christ  may 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  ^19 

dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith  ;  that  ye,  being  rooted 
and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend 
with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length, 
and  depth,  and  height ;  and  to  know  the  love  of 
Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."' 

This  exceeding  mystery  of  love  is  here  shadowed 
forth  in  words  which  su^fgest  the  infinite  and  eter- 
nal.  St.  Paul  does  not  say  what  this  is  which 
has  breadth,  length,  depth,  and  height.  It  is  no 
object  of  sight,  no  created  being  ;  something  not 
to  be  measured  by  sense,  uttered  by  words,  com- 
prehended by  understanding.  It  is  uncreatc,  and 
therefore  Divine  ;  and  because  Divine,  boundless 
and  everlasting.  What  is  this  but  the  love  of  the 
Son  of  God  ?  What  is  that  Divine  mystery  which 
St.  Paul  does  not  express,  the  name  of  which  is 
secret,  but  the  love  of  the  Word  made  flesh  ?  In 
this  all  things  find  their  source.  Its  breadth  covers 
all  mankind  ;  its  length  is  without  beginning  or 
end  ;  its  depth  reaching  to  the  grave  ;  its  height 
dwelling  in  the  Godhead.  Or  take  these  words 
of  Himself :  lie  is  God  ;  tlie  mystic  circle  whose 
centre  is  every  where,  and  its  circumference  no 
where  ;  lie  is  the  Son  perfect,  everlasting,  infi- 
nite, immense.  Or  understand  them  of  His  Cross  : 
its  breadth,  the  redemption  of  all  the  race  of 
Adam  ;  its  length,  the  eternal  predestination  ;  its 
'  Ephes.  iii.  16-19. 


QQO  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

depth,  the  destruction  of  death  and  hell  ;  its 
height,  the  beatific  vision.  Or,  if  we  will  so 
meditate  upon  it,  see  in  this,  His  love,  election, 
wisdom,  and  majesty  ;  or,  the  perfection  of  His 
Mystical  Body,  the  city  built  four-square,  whose 
length,  and  breadth,  and  height,  are  equal  ;^  in 
charity,  patience,  faith,  and  contemplation ;  or, 
the  gifts  of  every  saintly  spirit,  love,  persever- 
ance, fear,  and  hope.  In  whatever  way  we  take 
these  words  of  wisdom  and  of  wonder,  they  all 
return  again  into  the  fountain  from  which  they 
issue, — the  Cross  of  the  Son  of  God,  of  which 
the  arms,  the  stem,  the  head,  the  foot,  are  a  sa- 
crament of  His  transcendent  love  who  died  there- 
on for  us. 

This,  then,  is  that  great  miracle  of  the  Spirit 
which  the  Apostle  in  vain  strove  to  utter.  It  was 
to  his  speech  what  the  world  is  to  our  sight.  We 
can  see  as  far  as  the  horizon,  but  the  world  lies 
all  beyond.  He  spoke  all  he  could,  but  because 
it  passed  all  knowledge,  it  passed  all  speech  ;  and 
therefore  he  could  do  no  more  than  pray,  that  He 
who  alone  can  reveal  it,  would  take  up  his  im- 
perfect work  ;  that  when  the  servant  could  do  no 
more,  the  Lord  would  fulfil  the  revelation  of  Him- 
self. 

Now  let  us  see  what  is  this  Divine  language, 

'  Rev.  xxii.  16. 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  QQl 

and  what  this  Divine  capacity,  without  which  the 
love  of  Christ  can  be  neither  revealed  nor  known. 

1.  What  is  the  lan^^uaoe  in  which  Christ 
reveals  His  love  to  us,  but  His  Cross  and  Pas- 
sion ?  The  love  of  God  for  man  had  been  made 
known  from  the  beginning  by  manifold  revela- 
tions :  all  creation,  all  the  Divine  government, 
all  the  powers  of  nature,  declared  it.  To  this 
God  added,  yet  further,  promises,  visions,  mira- 
cles, prophecies,  benedictions,  effusions  of  grace  ; 
the  election  of  patriarchs  ;  the  ministry  of  angels  ; 
the  tokens  of  His  perpetual  care  j  deliverance 
from  peril  and  from  bondage  ;  a  priesthood,  and 
mysteries  ;  seers  and  prophets  ;  sacraments  of 
blessings  yet  to  come  ;  inspirations  of  truth  ;  re- 
velations of  goodness  and  beauty,  of  peace  and 
pardon  ;  the  communion  of  saints  in  secret  with 
Himself;  the  growing  light  and  perpetual  assur- 
ance, even  with  an  oath,  of  the  revelation  of  His 
kingdom  upon  earth  ; — all  these,  in  nature,  provi- 
dence, and  grace,  witliin  and  without,  to  the  sense 
and  to  the  soul  of  man,  were  as  one  complex  lan- 
guage, uttering  the  bne  of  (iod.  IJut  even  this 
was  not  (Miough  for  that  "wliK-Ii  jjussclh  know- 
ledge." Something  more  personal  and  articulate 
— something  with  more  intimate  expression,  more 
living,  in  sympathy,  persuasion,  and  |)ower,  was 
needed  still.      A    speech    liuman,   and  \et  Divine; 


2*22  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

co-equal  with  God,  and  intelligible  to  man.  And  in 
this  Divine  language  He  spoke  to  mankind,  when 
*'  the  Word  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us." 
The  words,  deeds,  and  sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God 
are  but  one  act — they  make  up  one  whole,  one 
eternal  word,  by  which  He  speaks  to  us.  This  is 
that  secret  ineffable,  which  has  breadth,  length, 
depth,  and  height.  From  the  Annunciation  to  the 
Ascension  is  one  continuous  unfolding  of  His  love  : 
His  humiliation  as  God,  and  patience  as  man ;  His 
subjection  to  authority  ;  His  endurance  of  contra- 
dictions ;  His  long-suff'ering  of  sinners  ;  all  the  sor- 
rows of  His  whole  life,  and  all  the  anguish  of  His 
last  passion ;  His  night  of  agony  ;  the  cross  which 
wounded  His  soul  more  sharply  than  the  Cross 
which  pierced  His  body ;  the  scourge  and  the 
blinding ;  the  reed  of  mockery,  and  the  crown  of 
thorns  ;  the  burden  of  the  Cross,  and  the  sharp- 
ness of  Calvary  ;  the  gall  and  the  vinegar  ;  the 
scorn  and  desolation,  and  after  this  the  humiliation 
of  death,  and  the  dishonour  of  the  grave  :  He  who 
bare  all  this  being  God,  and  we  for  whom  He  bare 
it  sinners, — this  is  the  only  tongue  mighty  to  utter 
that  which  is  beyond  the  speech  of  men  and  angels. 
Let  us  put  it  to  ourselves  in  words  of  this 
world,  speaking  as  men  or  as  fools.  Suppose  a 
friend  to  come  and  look  on  us  with  a  gentle,  pity- 
ing gaze,  and  say,  "  I  love  thee  ;"  it  may  be,  we 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  2^3 

should  believe  him :  it  would  not  cost  us  much 
to  trust  his  words  of  kindness.  If  he  should  say, 
*'  I  will  lay  down  my  life  for  thee ;"  it  may  be, 
we  should  not  believe  his  words  :  we  might  say, 
"I  know  you  to  be  good  and  kind:  willing  to  do 
much,  nay,  most  things  for  me."  If  he  should 
say,  "  See,  then,  I  have  left  all  that  I  have  for 
thee.  I  was  rich,  I  am  poor  :  I  was  in  peace,  I 
am  in  sorrow  ;  I  was  in  a  full  home  of  joy,  I  am 
alone ;  and  I  am  come  to  put  myself  between  thee 
and  thy  death,  which,  though  thou  canst  not  see, 
is  at  this  hour  coming  upon  thee."  If  a  friend 
should  come  and  say  this,  we  should  believe  him 
according  to  the  measures  of  his  known  goodness, 
and  according  to  the  measures  of  human  speech 
and  human  self-denial.  That  is,  we  should  have 
many  doubts,  and  say  to  ourselves,  IIow  would  this 
be  if  the  trial  were  really  to  come  ?  But,  suppose 
the  trial  were  already  come,  and  that,  in  the  hour 
of  our  danger,  he  should,  before  our  eyes,  fulfil  his 
words,  and  give  himself  to  ward  off  every  weapon, 
and  to  receive  every  blow  :  if  we  should  see  in  him 
our  own  wounds,  hear  u[)on  him  the  strokes  of  our 
own  punishment,  and  the  anguisli  of  our  own  just 
condemnation  ;  and,  at  the  last,  see  liini  die  before 
us  in  our  stead ;  liow  would  our  lu^arts  almost 
break  with  the  fulness  of  our  belief  in  his  love 
and  truth  j  how  would  every  thought  and  feeling 


224  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

overflow  with  sorrow,  love,  and  gratitude.  We 
should  rebuke  ourselves  with  bitter  reproaches  for 
having  ever  doubted  his  word  or  his  love  a  moment. 
We  should  need  no  more  words,  pledges,  or  proofs. 
Pain,  wounds,  and  death,  would  have  testified  ;  and 
their  witness  is  overwhelming.  The  memory,  the 
image,  the  very  name  of  such  a  friend  would  be 
blessed  and  sacred  for  ever.  His  every  look  and 
tone  of  voice,  every  remembered  expression  of  wish 
or  udll,  of  guidance  or  counsel,  would  be  our  law : 
we  should  be  jealous  for  him  as  for  our  own  life, 
and  endure  no  word  of  slight  or  coldness  to  be  cast 
upon  him. 

What  but  this  is  the  language  with  which  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  revealed  His  love  to  us  ? 
There  is  only  this  difference  :  we  have  been  speak- 
ing of  a  merely  human  love,  but  His  is  divine. 
When  tongues  and  prophecies,  blessings  and  pro- 
mises, had  done  their  utmost  to  reveal  the  fulness 
of  His  eternal  love.  He  came  Himself,  a  child  in 
humility  and  meekness,  a  man  full  of  love,  grace, 
gentleness,  with  works  of  healing,  miracles  of 
mercy  ;  speaking  to  us  through  our  sight  and 
touch,  our  sympathies  and  affections,  our  needs  and 
our  sorrows,  our  fears  and  our  sins.  All  the  love 
of  God,  and  all  the  lowliness  of  man,  united  in 
Him  to  persuade  and  win  our  hearts.  On  our  side 
were  only  soils  and  guilt ;  on  His  were  agony  and 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  225 

love,  patient  and  enduring  :  undeserved,  yet  never 
cooled  ;  slighted,  yet  never  turned  away  ;  tender, 
pitiful,  changeless,  and  eternal.  Nor  is  this  all. 
There  is  this  further  depth  of  love.  Sin  bound  us 
by  a  necessity  to  die.  But  no  necessity  bound  Him 
to  redeem  us  :  least  of  all  by  a  life  oif  sorrow,  and 
a  death  of  agony.  The  Almighty  knows  no  ne- 
cessity :  He  that  is  Omnipotent  cannot  be  bound. 
He  might  have  saved  us  in  ways  unknown,  with- 
out number  or  measure.  Other  ways  would  have 
revealed  His  wisdom,  power,  and  s&vereignty  of 
grace.  But  none  would  so  reveal  His  love  ;  none 
so  satiate,  or  slake  the  Divine  thirst  of  love,  as 
humiliation  and  sorrow,  passion  and  the  Cross. 
There  was  a  necessity  upon  Him,  not  external, 
which  is  impossible,  but  internal,  which  is  of  Him- 
self. The  necessity  was  His  own  free  choice,  and 
that  choice  was  the  utterance  of  love.  Divine 
power  and  grace  sufficed  not  to  reveal  it.  There- 
fore He  willed  that  He  should  die  and  reve.al  His 
love  upon  the  Cross.  Here  it  is  written  in  a 
mystic  character,  the  fulness  of  which  shall  be  in- 
terpreted in  ])aradise,  and  yet  never  fully  known. 

2.  But  further,  the  language  of  His  love  is 
two-fold,  both  without  ;md  witliin.  lie  not  only 
reveals  it  by  His  passion  to  us,  but  :dso  \)\  His 
presence  in  us.  And  this  is  tin;  divine  capacity 
by  which   alone  we  can  understand    it.     Tlicrcfore 

VOL.    III.  Q 


"226  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

St.  Paul  prays,  "  that  Christ  may  dwell  in  your 
hearts  by  faith."  This  does  not  simply  mean, 
that  the  knowledge  of  Christ  may  dwell  in  the 
intellect ;  but  that  His  Spirit,  His  very  presence 
by  the  Spirit,  may  dwell  in  their  hearts  :  as  he 
further  says,  being  '*  strengthened  with  might  by 
His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man."  In  this  way  He 
speaks  to  us  from  w^ithin,  giving  us  the  capacity 
to  hear  what  cannot  enter  by  the  ear,  and  to 
understand  what  the  intellect  cannot  comprehend. 
Wherefore  when  He  went  up  into  heaven,  He 
poured  out  upon  the  Church  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  who  is  the  love  of  the  Father  and  of  the 
Son.  And  in  Him,  He  who  is  by  visible  pre- 
sence in  heaven,  returned  by  spiritual  presence' 
into  His  mystical  body.  From  his  glorified  man- 
hood, as  from  a  fountain,  perpetual  effusions  of  life 
and  love  descend  upon  the  Church.  By  His  over- 
flowing gifts  of  grace  the  whole  Church  is  born 
again  ;  and  into  every  soul  which  puts  no  bar  of 
sin,  the  fulness  of  His  grace  comes  down.  This, 
in  one  word,  is  the  Spirit  of  love,  creating  peni- 
tents, saints,  and  martyrs  ;  revealing  to  all  who  are 
sanctified  the  mystery  of  the  Cross,  both  that  on 
which  He  suffered,  and  that  on  which  they  must 
hang  beside  Him  —  the  cross  of  witness  and  con- 
tradiction, of  conflict  and  death,  of  patience  and 
sorrow,  of  sickness  and  affliction,  of  temptation  and 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  '2'2J 

fiery  assaults  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  all,  revealing 
the  breadth,  and  length,  and  depth,  and  height 
of  His  love,  which  is  never  so  full  of  life  and  con- 
solation, as  when  the  Cross  is  sharpest  upon  their 
shoulder,  and  the  thorns  run  deepest  on  their  brow. 
This  mystery  of  the  Cross  has  been  from  the  be- 
ginning the  object  of  contemplation  to  all  His  true 
servants  ;  before  He  came,  under  a  veil  in  hope  ; 
since  He  came,  openly  by  faith.  It  is  set  up  in  the 
centre  of  the  mystical  body.  Upon  it  all  eyes  of 
penitents  and  mourners,  of  contemplative  and  soli- 
tary spirits  ;  and  of  all  who,  in  the  throng  of  life, 
the  weariness  of  toil,  the  cares  of  home,  serve  Him 
in  secret,  continually  dwell.  All  alike  gaze  on 
that  sign  as  their  light  and  healing — as  the  great 
eternal  mystery  of  life,  reaching  to  hell  and  heaven, 
and  gathering  all  God's  elect  into  its  world-wide 
embrace. 

'*  To  comprehend"  this  "  with  all  saints"  is  to 
share  in  the  depth  of  their  spiritual  vision,  and  in 
the  love  which  love  kindles  in  them  ;  to  comprehend 
the  greatness  of  His  love  and  the  greatness  of  our 
sin,  the  two-fold  mystery  of  goodness  and  of  guilt ; 
and  to  b(!  changed,  as  we  look  upon  that  which  is 
both  the  shame  and  the  glory  of  our  Lonl,  "  into 
the  same  image"  of  love  and  patience,  "  from  glory 
to  glory,  as  bv  the  Spirit  of  tlic  I^ord."  'i'here  is,  as 
it  were,  a  precinct   within   tlic  visiMr  Clninh,  into 


228  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

which  all  arc  called,  but  few  enter.  For  into  this 
interior  presence  of  Divine  love  no  human  teaching 
can  lead ;  no  preaching,  not  even  of  apostles  ;  no 
book,  not  even  inspired ;  no,  not  the  Epistle  to  the 
Church  in  Ephesus,  all  kindled  as  it  is  with  the 
fire  of  God  ;  still  less  can  intellect,  imagination, 
or  emotion — all  these  are  weak  and  cold.  It  is 
the  office  of  a  Divine  Person,  of  Him  "  who  hath 
the  key  of  David  ;"  He  alone  can  bring  us  within 
His  holy  place ;  that  is,  Christ,  by  His  Spirit,  re- 
vealing His  own  love  to  us,  by  kindling  our  love 
to  Him,  that  we,  "  being  rooted  and  grounded  in 
love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend  ;"  for  there  is  no 
other  sight  which  sees  love  but  love  ;  love  alone 
can  measure  love,  can  perceive,  can  feel  it.  He  has 
been  teaching  us  His  love  by  making  us  love  Him. 
There  is  no  other  way.  Till  we  love  Him,  all  is 
dark.  Even  the  plainest  truths  seem  shadowy  and 
changeful ;  the  highest  doctrines  of  faith  appear 
remote,  and  above  our  sphere  j  the  whole  mystery 
of  the  Incarnation,  and  of  the  Cross  ;  of  the  Resur- 
rection, and  the  kingdom  of  Christ ;  the  unity  of 
His  Body,  and  the  glory  of  the  saints  ;  the  gifts 
of  the  Holy  Sacraments,  and  the  universal  sympa- 
thy of  the  new"  creation  of  God,  —  all  these  are 
realities  which  surpass  the  intellect,  and  are  com- 
prehended only  by  love  ;  that  is,  by  the  spiritual 
reason  in  the  ligfht  of  charitv. 


Xir.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  2'29 

This  inward  and  divine  work  of  ^race  is  no 
special  gift  of  certain  Christians,  but  the  common 
heritage  of  the  regenerate.  If  we  do  not  possess 
it,  the  loss  is  ours,  and  the  sin ;  for  all  our  life 
through,  whether  we  have  heard  or  no.  He  has 
been  speaking  to  us  by  this  interior  voice ;  some- 
times, perhaps,  making  our  hearts  to  burn  within 
even  when  we  have  not  understood,  and  revealing 
Himself  in  clearness  when  we  have  ever  so  little 
turned  to  Him  in  love.  Wonderful  kingdom  of 
love  in  the  soul  of  man  !  Who  has  not  seen  its 
tokens  ?  Who  has  not  perceived  its  presence  ?  He 
who  is  in  all  His  mystical  body,  is  whole  in  every 
member  ;  not  severed  or  divided,  but  full,  infinite, 
divine.  In  each  one  His  presence  is  the  same, 
revealing  in  each  what  He  reveals  in  all.  Though 
He  uses  many  and  various  ways,  yet  He  makes  all 
that  desire  it  to  know  His  love ;  bearing  with  us 
in  our  sin,  even  after  baptism ;  preventing  us  by 
His  guidance,  preserving  us  from  perils  we  never 
knew,  restraining  us  from  manifold  perdition  ;  opc^n- 
ing  again  the  eyes  we  liave  wilfully  blinded,  and 
the  ears  we  have  closed  in  obstinacy  ;  restoring, 
as  by  miracles  of  love,  the  spiritual  gifts  we  have 
abused  ;  converting  us  to  Himself.  Whensoever 
we  have  turned  or  inclined  towards  Him,  He  has 
revealed  Himself,  waiting  to  be  gracious,  over- 
whelminir  us  with   a   consciousness  of  Icndrr  care, 


230  THE  CROSS  [Sekm. 

and  of  love  that  nothing  can  estrange.  In  this 
way  He  deals  with  us,  that  He  may  root  us  and 
ground  us  in  love.  When  the  soul  is  once  kindled 
with  this  divine  flame,  and  the  sins  of  flesh  and 
spirit  hegin  to  consume  away  in  the  fire  of  His 
presence,  it  is  as  if  scales  had  dropped  from  our 
spiritual  sight,  and  the  Cross  stands  visible,  bear- 
ing the  mystery  of  love.  Then  all  things  change 
their  aspect.  New  lights  fall  from  it  on  every 
side.  At  first  they  come  in  strange  contradictions, 
greater  joys  and  greater  sorrows,  livelier  hopes  and 
more  trembling  fears.  After  a  while  the  repent- 
ance of  alarm  relaxes  into  the  contrition  of  a 
broken  spirit,  and  the  rigour  of  conscience  into  the 
tenderness  of  compunction.  Then  the  whole  in- 
ward life  is  turned  back  upon  its  true  source,  and 
lives  by  looking  upon  the  Cross.  The  kingdom  of 
Christ,  both  in  earth  and  heaven,  is  then  revealed 
from  its  true  point  of  sight ;  that  is,  from  Christ's 
presence  in  a  loving  heart.  It  is  then  seen  in  its 
divine  unity  and  perfection,  reigning  with  Him, 
and  sufiering,  loving,  sympathising,  interceding, 
and  worshipping  ;  sustained  by  one  life,  one  bread, 
one  altar,  one  sacrifice ;  cleaving  to  one  Cross, 
quickened  by  one  Spirit,  united  by  one  bond  of  love, 
holy  and  universal,  under  one  High  Priest,  who  is 
at  the  right  hand  of  God.  O  "  the  breadth,  and 
length,    and    depth,    and   height" — "the   love    of 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  231 

Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge  I"  which  can  be 
uttered  only  by  the  Passion  of  the  Word  made 
flesh,  and  revealed  in  us  only  by  the  indwelling  of 
Christ  Himself.  O  divine  mystery  !  and  language 
equally  divine  ;  ineffable  gift  of  the  Father,  and  of 
the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  the  Incarnation 
of  the  Eternal  Word,  ever  with  us  in  the  Presence 
of  the  Eternal  Spirit,  Himself  "  the  First  and  the 
Last,"  the  Truth  and  the  Teacher,  the  Light  which 
reveals  itself,  "  the  bright  and  morning  Star."' 

But  to  whom  does  He  reveal  this  surpassing 
love  ?     Are  they  not  chiefly  these  ? 

1.  First,  those  who  have  faithfully  obeyed  the 
grace  of  their  regeneration.  In  them  the  spiritual 
life  takes  the  lead  and  guidance  of  their  whole 
intellectual  and  moral  being,  going  before  it  and 
leading  it  in  the  way  of  purity  and  love.  They  are 
sheltered  from  the  soils  and  stains  which  pierce 
the  souls  of  such  as  fall  into  disobedience  ;  they 
are  never  clouded  by  the  dimness  and  darkness 
which  gather  upon  a  rebellious  and  uneasy  con- 
scien(;e.  Tlieir  union  witii  Christ  is  a  source  of 
inward  light,  which  sheds  abroad  a  fuller  radi- 
ance as  they  grow  in  love.  A  sanctified  will  is 
in  tlicni  tlu;  root  of  the  iHiimiiinlcd  reason.  I>v 
purity  of  heart  they  see  the  Cross,  ev(Mi  in  child- 
hood, according  to  its  measures;  in  \niitli  and  in 
'  Kcv.  xxii.  Ifi. 


232  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

the  full  ripeness  of  age,  with  a  continual  expanse 
of  light  filling  the  whole  field  of  contemplation  : 
— there  they  behold  the  signet  of  love,  the  law  of 
their  will,  the  purification  of  their  heart,  the  flanrie 
at  which  their  love  is  kindled,  the  life  of  all  their 
soul.  Such  Christians  are  in  many  ways  children 
of  light ;  all  brightness  within,  and  like  the  light, 
silent,  soft,  and  noiseless ;  so  that  this  loud  busy 
world  takes  them  for  weak  and  stagnant,  without 
vividness  or  energy.  What  the  world  admires  is  the 
visible  and  audible  piety  of  converts.  It  cannot  con- 
ceive a  life  so  tranquil  to  be  fervent ;  as  if  the  zeal 
of  penitents  were  more  perfect  than  the  ministry  of 
angels.  So  truly  is  "  the  secret  of  the  Lord  with 
them  that  fear  Him  ;"  so  hidden  is  that  new  name 
which  is  known  only  to  him  that  receiveth  it.  To 
those  who  have  been  thus  signally  blessed  of  God, 
through  the  watchfulness  and  prayer  of  parents, 
or  sometimes,  so  far  as  w^e  can  see,  even  with- 
out these  secondary  agencies,  and  have  been  kept 
within  the  light  of  that  gift  which  by  nature  they 
could  not  have  —  to  them  what  things  others  learn 
late  and  with  toil,  and,  after  all,  for  the  most 
part,  with  less  clear  perceptions,  are  as  original 
truths,  axioms  of  the  regeneration,  instincts  of 
their  spiritual  nature.  They  are  unclouded  and 
imchilled,  and  have  a  clear  transparent  purity  of 
heart,   quickened  by  a  consciousness  of  the   pre- 


XII.]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  Q33 

sence  and  love  of  Christ,  which  neither  intellect 
nor  speech  can  conceive.  It  is  as  a  part  of  their 
own  being ;  it  sustains  the  unity  of  their  own  life, 
derived  through  the  Spirit  from  Him  who  is  their 
life.  They  live  more  and  more  in  the  habitual 
consciousness  of  His  love  to  them.  The  world 
cannot  draw  them  from  Him.  It  has  no  sweet- 
ness like  fellowship  with  Him ;  no  brightness  like 
the  light  of  His  countenance  ;  no  fairness  like  the 
beauty  of  His  presence.  They  rest  all  their  weight 
on  Him  in  loving,  confiding  trust ;  and  look  on 
without  fear  to  the  day  of  death,  as  the  way  that 
leads,  it  may  be  through  a  narrow  and  rough  pass, 
but  speedy  and  sure,  to  the  fulness  of  His  love 
unveiled. 

2.  And  besides  these,  who  are  blessed  above 
all,  there  are  others  also  who  are  specially  strength- 
ened to  comprehend  with  all  saints  the  surpassing 
love  of  the  Cross  ;  such  arc  all  who  habitually  and 
devoutly  communicate  in  the  sacrament  of  His  pas- 
sion. Nothing  so  visibly  rciveals  the  Cross  to  us  ; 
nothing  so  renews  before  our  eyes  the  language  of 
divine  acts  and  sufferings,  by  which  He  has  re- 
vealed His  love.  It  represents  to  us  the  mystery 
of  His  humiliation,  His  incarnation.  His  self-obhi- 
tion,  His  crucifixion,  the  rending  of  His  body,  the 
shedding  of  His  blood,  tli(i  whole  mystery  of  His 
passion.     These  an;  set  Ixilorc  our  very  siglit.      He 


'234  TIIH  CROSS  [SnuM. 

is  lifted  up  visibly  before  us.  And  what  is  so  re- 
presented to  us  from  without  by  symbols,  is  applied 
to  us  within  by  His  intimate  presence.  He  makes 
every  devout  soul  to  partake  of  Himself,  to  share 
that  love  which  nailed  Him  upon  the  Cross  ;  to 
share  even  the  Cross,  by  sharing  His  love.  He 
makes  over  to  us  His  atonement  and  His  priceless 
blood,  the  infinite  merits  of  His  incarnation ;  and 
with  them  His  Spirit  and  His  charity.  But  of 
these  things  it  is  hard  to  speak  in  words.  They 
are  of  that  secret  which  passeth  knowledge  ;  which 
can  be  comprehended  only  in  the  spiritual  light 
by  which  He  reveals  Himself  at  the  altar,  high 
and  lifted  up  upon  the  Cross,  radiant  with  love ; 
then  higher  still  in  the  throne  of  God,  angels  as- 
cendino"  and  descendino-  in  the  ministries  of  His 
compassion ;  and  highest  of  all,  in  the  midst  of 
His  heavenly  court,  ranged  around  Him  in  the 
breadth,  and  length,  and  depth,  and  height,  of 
the  eternal  glory.  These  things  are  only  for  the 
inward  utterance,  which  is  spiritual  and  silent ; 
heard  always  in  the  still  tones  of  a  voice  divine, 
by  those  who  are  meet  for  the  heavenly  feast. 
The  more  meet,  the  more  clear  their  spiritual 
sense  ;  and  the  oftener  they  feed  with  devotion  on 
the  living  bread,  the  meeter  they  become.  This 
is  the  point  or  centre  of  light  in  which  obedience, 
purity   of  heart,   prayer,    contemplation,    faith,  all 


XII. J  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  Q35 

conspire  in  one  ;  and  here  He  vouchsafes  to  come 
down,  as  it  were,  to  meet  the  aspirations  of  His 
own  Spirit  in  us,  and  to  reveal  the  eternal  love 
which  is  Himself. 

3.  And,  lastly,  there  are,  blessed  be  His  mercy, 
others  among  whom  we  may  hope  to  have  our  lot. 
If  it  w^ere  only  to  spirits  of  love  and  spirits  of 
knowledge,  such  as  we  have  spoken  of,  that  the 
Cross  were  revealed,  where  should  we  have  our  por- 
tion ?  But  here  again  is  the  wonderful  mystery  of 
His  compassion  ;  what  the  highest  attain  by  grace, 
is  by  gift  granted  to  the  lowest.  In  this  the  first 
and  the  last  are  all  alike.  It  is  not  only  to  puri- 
fied and  devout  hearts,  but  also  to  penitent  and 
broken  spirits,  that  He  reveals  His  Cross :  to  all 
who  after  their  sins,  whatsoever  their  past  life  has 
beefi,  are  now  truly  and  sadly  repenting.  "  There 
stood  by  the  Cross  of  Jesus  His  mother,  and  His 
mother's  sister,  Mary  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  and 
Mary  Magdalene.'"  A  blessed  company  :  One  all 
pure,  that  had  borne  Him  in  her  bosom  as  a  child ; 
one  all  love,  who  had  l;iin  u])on  His  l)n'ast  at  sup- 
per; and  one  all  sorrow,  who  had  j)icrce(l  liini 
with  her  sins.  Once  they  were  "not  all  clean," 
but  all  were  clean  then  ;  for  the  Cross  had  cleansed 
them  all  as  white  as  snow.  lUessed  niid  lu'aling 
\\[)r  of  the  great  grace  of  rcjjeiihuicc  ;    tlic   itiic\\;d 

'    St.  .loliri  xix.  'J"). 


'236  THE  CROSS  [SiiRM. 

of  the  new  creature,  the  all  but  second  birth  of 
the  regenerate.  *'  How  unsearchable  are  His  judg- 
ments, and  His  ways  past  finding  out."  The  pure 
in  heart  see  God  with  a  speed  and  depth  of  sight 
which  seems  given  to  none  beside :  but  to  peni- 
tents, even  in  their  tears,  is  granted  an  intensity 
of  vision  which  seems  to  outstrip  all  others  ;  yet 
with  what  strange  intimations  of  a  manifold  and 
diverse  perfection.  John,  in  the  zeal  of  love, 
outran  Peter  to  the  grave ;  but  Peter  entered 
first,  while  John  only  stooped  and  looked  into 
the  tomb.  John  first  knew  the  Lord  upon  the 
shore,  but  Peter  first  hastened  to  His  presence. 
Love  outstripped  repentance,  and  repentance  left 
love  behind.  Repentance  was  bid  to  follow,  and 
love  was  left  to  linger  without  a  token  of  His  wnll. 
Yet  neither  was  before  or  after  other ;  for  both 
saw  Him,  and  were  full.  So  it  is  now.  If  we  be 
broken  in  heart :  not  filled  with  a  clouded  and 
moody  self-contemplation,  or  with  a  shrinking,  un- 
hoping  fear,  still  less  with  a  lukewarm  and  vari- 
able temper,  wavering  between  sin  and  penitence, 
but  with  a  loving  sorrow ;  if  we  have  a  heart 
pierced  fivefold,  bleeding  inwardly,  issuing  in  pa- 
tience, humility,  gentleness,  trust,  and  hope  ;  even 
to  us  He  will  reveal  His  Cross  in  all  the  fulness 
of  its  perfection,  in  pardon,  in  long-suffering  love, 
and  in  life  eternal. 


XII  ]  THE   MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  QSJ 

But  let  US  take  great  heed,  lest  we  try  to  as- 
cend the  heioht  before  we   have   oone  down  into 

O  O 

the  depth  of  His  passion.  Let  us,  as  penitents, 
beware  how  we  think  to  comprehend  it  by  spiri- 
tual strength  and  intuition,  by  high  devotions, 
and  sensible  affections  of  love  and  ardour.  We 
shall  but  turn  our  heads,  and  fall  from  the  as- 
cents which  are  not  for  us  to  climb.  Our  way 
to  the  Cross  is  below,  in  humiliation  and  abase- 
ment, in  conscious  poverty  of  all  strength  and  of 
all  attainments  of  a  devout  life.  Our  path  will  be 
safest  in  shadows  and  silence  ;  loving  the  lowest 
place ;  and  gladly  enduring  slights,  especially  when 
undeserved,  as  most  nearly  likening  us  to  Ilim  in 
His  shame.  Penitents  have  need  to  watch,  lest 
they  grow  to  be  strict,  cold,  upright,  blameless,  in- 
dignant at  sinners,  unconscious  of  themselves.  Our 
only  hope  is  to  be  abased,  and  kindled  with  indig- 
nation against  ourselves,  absorbed  in  the  thought 
of  our  Blessed  Lord,  if  so  be  we  may  be  like  her 
whose  whole  soul  flowed  with  a  living  stream  in  the; 
kiss  with  which  she  embraced  His  sacred  feet. 

This  shall  reveal  all  we  need  to  see  ;  and  all 
the  changes  of  life  will  receive  new  and  uiiloreseeii 
lights  cast  ujx))!  them  from  the  Cross,  lilcssings, 
rebukes,  sharp  checks,  chastisements,  and  a  lower- 
ing to-morrow,  will  all  bring  out  some  new  aspect 
of  His   personal    love    to   us.     The   deeper  we  go 


238  THE  CROSS  [Serm. 

down  into  the  depths  of  sorrow  for  our  sin,  the 
more  will  He  reveal  the  Great  Sorrow  by  which 
our  sin  was  taken  away  :  and  the  fellowship  of 
sorrow  is  the  fellowship  of  love  ;  for  without  love 
sorrow  is  not  repentance,  and  without  sorrow  love 
dies.  These  tw^o  are  united  in  the  Cross.  In  its 
unity  they  fulfilled  His  passion ;  they  are  now  the 
fountains  of  our  repentance. 

What  but  this  Love,  when  sorrow  is  passed 
away,  shall  be  the  bliss  of  the  redeemed  in 
heaven  ?  What  but  this  shall  be  the  song  of 
the  blessed  before  the  Lamb  which  was  slain, 
when  the  sealed  book  is  opened  ;  and  every  one, 
with  harps  and  golden  vials  full  of  odours, 
shall  fall  down  and  sing  a  new  song,  "  saying, 
Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book,  and  to  open 
the  seals  thereof;  for  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast 
redeemed  us  to  God  by  Thy  Blood.'"  It  is 
still  and  evermore  the  same  hymn  of  praise,  the 
Cross  and  the  love  of  the  eternal  Son,  there  seen 
in  all  its  expanse  unveiled  ;  and  with  a  perfect 
capacity  of  sight,  by  the  vision  of  uncreated  light, 
where  each  one  shall  be  more  blessed,  the  more 
deeply  he  beholds  it.  But,  for  us  now,  we  must 
begin  upon  the  lowest  step,  with  sorrow  for  the  sin 
of  an  unloving  heart.  Hereafter  we  shall  know, 
even  as  we  are  known ;  nothing  shall  pass  know^- 

'   Rev.  V.  9. 


XIl]  THE  MEASURE  OF  LOVE.  239 

ledge  then,  when  all  shall  be  taught  of  God. 
For  this  we  must  wait  His  time  and  will.  Let 
us  now  make  sure,  if  by  His  grace  we  may,  of  the 
first  and  lowest  elements  of  this  science  of  all 
saints.  As  yet  our  sin  passeth  knowledge.  Let 
us  learn  this  first.  This  is  enough  for  us  on 
earth  ;  and  then,  when  we  have  learned  to  know 
this  in  a  life  of  compunction,  we  shall  hereafter 
know  the  love  of  Christ  without  measure  in  the 
fulness  of  eternal  peace. 


SERMON  XIII. 


A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE. 


Philippians  iv.  4,  5,  6. 
"  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  ahvay :  and  again  I  say,  Rejoice.  Let  your 
moderation  be  known  unto  all  men.  The  Lord  is  at  hand. 
Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer  and 
supplication  with  thanksgiving  let  your  requests  be  made 
known  unto  God.  And  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all 
understanding,  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Christ  Jesus." 

St.  Paul,  in  these  words,  bids  the  Christians  in 
Philippi  to  carry  all  their  sorrows  and  fears  to 
the  throne  of  Christ.  He  specially  bids  them  re- 
member the  nearness  of  our  Lord ;  and  the  free- 
dom we  may  use  in  speaking  with  Him.  And  in 
so  doing  he  has  taught  us  a  great  and  blessed 
truth,  needful  for  all  men  in  all  ages :  I  mean, 
that  a  life  of  prayer  is  a  life  of  peace.  It  is  not 
in    times    of  persecution    only,    but   at   all   times, 


Serm.  XIII  ]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  241 

that  the  presence  and  fellowship  of  Christ  arc  the 
peace  and  consolation  of  the  Church.  We  are 
born  into  a  world  of  perturbations  ;  we  carry  them 
in  our  own  heart.  The  world  is  the  counterpart 
of  man's  fallen  nature,  turbulent,  restless,  and  dis- 
tracted. Every  man  gives  in  his  contribution  of 
disquietude  ;  and  the  life  of  most  men  is  made  up 
of  cares  and  doubts,  perplexities  and  forebodings, 
of  fruitless  regrets  for  follies  past,  and  of  exag- 
gerated thoughts  of  trials  yet  to  come.  On  men 
who  live  without  God  in  the  world  these  things 
press  sorely.  They  fret  and  wear  them  without 
alleviation.  This  is  the  "  sorrow  of  the  world" 
that  "  worketh  death."  It  is  a  bitter  and  embitter- 
ing disquiet  of  heart.  The  plague  of  evil  thoughts, 
inordinate  cravings,  disappointments  and  losses, 
vain  hopes  and  wearing  fears,  these  arc  by  nature 
the  portion  of  us  all.  Even  religious  people  have 
their  yoke  of  cares.  But  there  is  this  difference 
between  them  and  others  ;  they  know  where  to 
carry  the  recital  of  their  trou])les,  where  to  lay 
down  their  burden,  and  ^Vho  will  bear  their  griefs 
and  take  away  their  sorrows. 

1.  St.  Paul  liere  tells  lis,  first  of  all,  lliat  there 
is  One,  ever  near  us,  who  ciui  fiiKil  all  our  desire, 
and  over-rule  nil  things  in  our  behalf.  "  The  Lord 
is  at  hand."  How  soon  He  may  reveal  Himself  in 
person  we  know  not ;   but  soon  or  late,   it  is  cer- 

VOL.   III.  H 


242  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

tain,  that  although  unseen,  He  is  ever  near  us. 
His  presence  departed  not  from  the  Church  when 
He  ascended  into  heaven.  He  is  withdrawn  from 
the  eyes  of  our  flesh  ;  but  in  the  sight  of  our  hearts 
He  is  always  visible.  Though  He  be  at  the  right 
hand  of  God,  yet  He  is  in  the  Church,  and  in  our 
secret  chamber.  Though  He  is  the  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  yet  He  is  ever  in  the  midst  of  us,  watch- 
ing and  guiding,  disposing  all  things  for  the  perfec- 
tion of  His  kingdom,  and,  in  it,  of  each  one  of  us. 
He  is  both  able  and  willing  to  fulfil  all  our  hearts' 
desires ;  and  nothing  is  hid  from  His  sight.  He 
knows  all ;  even  our  most  unuttered  thoughts,  our 
most  concealed  desires  ;  and  with  this  assurance  we 
might  lay  aside  all  our  burdens.  It  might  seem 
enough  for  us  simply  to  cast  all  our  care  on  Him, 
knowing  that  He  careth  for  us  ;  to  refer  ourselves 
to  His  love  and  wisdom,  to  His  all-comprehending 
knowledofe  of  our  wishes  and  our  wants.  This 
would  be  a  sure  and  sufiicient  pledge  against  all 
the  evils  we  forebode  and  shrink  from.  But  there 
is  a  relief  in  speaking  out  our  wishes ;  and  even 
this  He  does  not  deny  us. 

2.  Therefore  St.  Paul  tells  us  further,  that  we 
may  make  all  our  desires  known  unto  God.  We 
may  speak  with  Him  as  a  man  speaks  with  his 
friend.  We  all  know  the  relief,  as  we  say,  of  un- 
burdening ourselves,  and  opening  our  hidden  cares, 


XIII.]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  243 

even  to  an  earthly  companion.  We  seem  to  have 
laid  off  a  weight  when  we  have  told  our  sorrow. 
When  any  one  we  love  shares  our  anxiety,  and 
divides  our  forebodings  with  us,  we  seem  to  have 
either  only  half  the  burden,  or  a  twofold  strength 
to  bear  it.  We  feel  this  relief  all  the  more,  in  the 
measure  in  which  our  friend  is  wise  and  compas- 
sionate, loved  by  us,  and  loves  us  in  return.  And 
yet  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  we  do  not  reveal 
ourselves  to  our  fastest  and  nearest  friend.  There 
is  something  of  imperfection  still  in  them  that 
makes  us  lay  bare  only  one  side,  and  lay  open  only 
one  chamber  of  our  heart.  There  is  always  some- 
thing still  concealed,  some  reserved  infirmity,  some- 
thing over  which  we  must  needs  draw  a  veil  and 
silence  ;  which  we  would  not  that  any  fellow-crea- 
ture should  discern  ;  which  we  can  only  shew  to 
tlic  world  unseen,  and  to  the  eyes  of  Him  "  that 
searcheth  tlic  hearts,  and  trieth  the  reins."  JUit 
with  llim,  not  only  is  it  impossible  to  conceal,  but 
we  do  not  desire  to  hide  any  thing  from  His  sight. 
Though  He  be  the  Holy  One  of  God,  and  "His 
eyes  as  a  flame  of  fire,"  so  piercing  and  so  pure,  yet 
we  do  not  shrink  from  making  all  known  to  llim  : 
for  though  II(;  be  perfect  in  purity.  He  is  likewise 
perfect  in  compassion  :  He  is  as  pitiful  as  He  is 
holy.  We  may  come  before  Him,  and  say,  *'  'J'his 
have  I  done,  and  this  have  I  left  undone.     I  am  sin- 


244*  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

fill  and  unhappy,  beset  by  temptations,  harassed  by 
myself."  We  may  make  known  the  facts  and  par- 
ticulars of  our  trial,  its  circumstances  and  details  ; 
and  plead,  as  it  were,  against  ourselves,  praying 
to  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  sin  which  still 
dwells  in  us,  and  draws  us  aside  into  darkness  and 
transgression  ;  overclouding  our  heart  by  imagina- 
tions and  visions  of  evil.  We  may  say,  "  Thou 
knowest  what  I  cannot  speak,  and  why  I  cannot. 
Thou  knowest  all  things." 

When  we  are  overcome  by  a  sense  of  what  we 
are,  and  for  shame  or  sorrow  even  fear  to  speak  at 
all,  we  may  place  ourselves  before  Him,  passively, 
and  in  silence,  casting  ourselves  down  under  His 
feet,  to  be  read,  searched  by  His  penetrating  sight. 
Though  unworthy  to  ask  the  least,  yet  we  may 
make  our  requests  known  unto  Him  by  silent 
humiliation,  and  by  secret  appeal  to  His  perfect 
knowledge. 

Now,  this  is  what  St.  Paul  bids  us  to  do.  "  Be 
careful  for  nothing;  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer 
and  supplication  witli  thanksgiving  let  your  re- 
quests be  made  known  unto  God."  And  the  pro- 
mise is,  not  that  we  shall  have  whatsoever  we  may 
ask,  but  that  we  shall  have  feace.  *'  And  the 
peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding, 
shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through  Christ 
Jesus."     We  shall  not,  indeed,  always  have  wdiat 


XIII.]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  245 

we  ask  ;    but  if  we  ask  in  faith,   we  shall  always 
have  peace.     Of  this  we  shall  never  fail. 

1.  First,  because  whatsoever  we  ask  w^hich  is 
truly  for  our  good,  that  He  will  give  us  freely. 
No  father  so  much  delights  to  give  the  very  thing 
his  children  ask  for,  as  our  Father  in  heaven.  It 
is  well-pleasing  in  His  sight  both  that  we  should 
know  wliat  to  pray  for  as  we  ought,  and  that  He 
should  bestow  the  thing  we  ask.  "  Verily,  verily,  I 
say  unto  you,  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father 
in  My  name,  He  will  give  it  you.'"  But  it  is  a 
hif^h  ofrace  to  know  what  things  to  ask  in  the  name 
of  Christ.  Men  make  strange  prayers  to  Heaven, 
and  couple  the  Name  at  which  every  knee  shall 
bow,  of  things  in  heaven  and  things  in  earth,  with 
foolish  and  unreasonable  prayers.  Whatsoever  we 
desire  that  is  in  harmony  with  the  Eternal  will, 
with  the  love  of  our  Jiedeemer,  and  with  the  mind 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  those  things  we  shall  without 
fail  receive.  All  good  things  ;  all  good,  eternal 
and  created ;  all  blessing,  grace,  and  truth  ;  all  the 
b(;nedictions  of  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  all  the  pro- 
mises of  the  Gospel,  and  all  the  pledged  mercies  of 
redemption  ;  all  these  we  may  ask  importunately, 
and  sliall  assuredly  receive.  Even  things  of  this 
life — solace  and  deliverance,  the  reversal  of  threat- 
ened chastisement,  the  restoration  of  blessings  half 

1  St.  John  xvi.  2-i. 


246  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

withdrawn ;  these  too,  and  a  multitude  of  mercies 
infinite  as  the  changes  and  chances  of  man's  life, 
we  may  lawfully  desire.  It  may  be  we  shall  also 
receive  these  very  things  we  ask  for.  At  all  events, 
we  may  make  "  our  requests  known  unto  God  :" 
leaving  with  Him  to  open  and  to  shut  His  hand 
as  He  shall  see  best  for  us. 

2.  For  whatsoever  we  ask  which  is  not  for  our 
good.  He  will  keep  it  back  from  us.  And  surely 
in  this  there  is  no  less  of  love  than  in  the  granting 
what  we  desire  as  we  ouoht.  "  What  man  of  vou 
that  is  a  father,  if  his  son  ask  for  bread,  will  he 
give  him  a  stone  ?"  And  if  he  ask  for  poison,  will 
he  not  refuse  it  ?  Will  not  the  same  love  which 
prompts  you  to  give  a  good,  prompt  you  to  keep 
back  an  evil,  thing  ?  If,  in  our  blindness,  not  know- 
ing what  to  ask,  we  pray  for  things  which  should 
turn  in  our  hands  to  sorrow  and  death,  will  not 
our  Father,  out  of  His  very  love,  deny  us  ?  In 
this  entangled  twilight  state  of  probation,  where 
the  confines  of  good  and  ill  so  nearly  approach, 
and  almost  seem  to  intermingle,  there  needs  a 
keen  and  strong  spiritual  eye  to  discern  and  know 
the  nature  and  properties  of  all  things  which  en- 
compass us  about.  They  allure  us,  and  we  desire 
them,  and  ask  not  knowing  for  what.  How  awful 
would  be  our  lot,  if  our  wishes  should  straight- 
way pass  into  realities ;   if  we  were  endowed  with 


XII [.]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  247 

a  power  to  bring  about  all  that  we  desire  ;  if  the 
inclinations  of  our  will  were  followed  by  fulfilment 
of  our  hasty  wishes,  and  sudden  longings  were  al- 
ways granted.  Such  a  power  in  an  imperfect  be- 
ing, drawn  aside,  as  we  are,  by  the  solicitations  of 
evil  from  without,  and  hurried  away  by  impulses  of 
an  imperfect  and  variable  heart  within,  would  be  an 
intolerable  misery.  And  yet  what  but  this  would  it 
be,  if  all  our  prayers  were  granted — if  there  were 
no  all-wise,  all-holy  One  to  review  our  imperfect 
choices,  to  sift  out  the  poisons,  and  to  keep  back 
the  sorrows  which  we  have  ignorantly  prayed  for  ? 

In  the  commonest  things  of  this  world,  how 
valuable  is  the  counsel  of  a  wise  and  trusty  friend, 
who  revises  and  checks  our  aims  and  plans.  From 
what  unnumbered  errors  and  falls  are  we  pre- 
served by  taking  counsel  of  some  tried  and  dis- 
cerning adviser.  How,  on  the  retrospect  of  years, 
we  sec  whole  trains  of  evil  consequences  lying  hid 
behind  some  act  we  were  once  vehemently  bent  on 
takinfj;  from  which  we  were  hardlv  turned  aside  at 
the  very  moment  of  action.  In  like  manner,  what 
a  current  of  happy  and  prosperous  events  has  car- 
ried us  along,  as  we  now  can  see,  since  the  day 
when  some  decision  was  made  at  the  guidance 
of  another,  to  whose  advice  we  could  hardly  be 
brought,  at  that  time,  to  consent.  And  what  but 
this  loving  care,  if  it  may  be  reverently  spoken,  is 


248  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

ever  taken  for  us  in  heaven  ?  Our  vehement, 
blind,  tumultuous  hearts  are  continually  sending 
up  their  wishes  and  prayers  on  high,  all  mingled 
and  infected  with  our  own  earthliness.  In  the 
golden  censer  of  our  great  High  Priest  they  are 
purged  by  the  living  fire  of  His  love ;  the  evil 
separated  from  the  good,  and  our  rash  and  way- 
w^ard  choices  refined  till  they  unite  with  the  wis- 
dom and  will  of  our  Eternal  Father.  One  day 
we  shall  bless  Him,  not  more  for  what  He  has 
granted  than  for  what  He  has  denied.  Though 
now  we  think  our  most  needful  requests  are  put 
aside,  we  shall  then  perceive  the  real  meaning  of 
what  w^e  asked,  and  the  rashness  of  our  prayer. 
Alas  for  us,  if  all  our  prayers  should  be  given 
us  :  if  the  meting  out  and  tempering  of  our  own 
lot  were  thus  left  in  our  own  hands  ;  if  all  we 
desire  were  made  our  own ;  if  the  windows  of 
heaven  were  never  shut  against  us.  He  gave 
them  their  desire,  and  "  sent  leanness  withal  into 
their  soul."^  Alas,  if  health,  prosperity,  prolonged 
enjoyment  of  the  bright  things  of  life,  and  free- 
dom from  sorrows  and  deprivations,  were  con- 
tinued to  us  as  long  as  we  desire  ;  if  the  whole- 
some sharpness  of  pain,  bodily  humiliation,  the 
breaking  up  of  hopes,  and  the  over-clouding  of  our 
happiness,  were  kept  back  as  long  as  we  should  pre- 

'  Ps.  cvi.  15. 


XIII.]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  249 

scribe.     Ours  would  be  a  blind  discipline  of  healing 
for  sinful  hearts.     We  should  be  poor  physicians  of 
our  own  maladies.     And  this  is  the  reason  why  our 
Father  in  heaven   uses  a  loving  severity,   and  at 
times  confounds  our  wishes  with  the  strokes  of  His 
hand.     He  denies  us  what  we  ask,  and  sends  in- 
stead   what    we  most   recoil   from.      We    ask  for 
bright  lights,  and  He  sends  us  shadows  ;  we  crave 
for  soft  things,  and  He  sends  us  hardness  for  our 
portion  ;   we  pray  Him  to  take  away  our  anxieties, 
and  He  turns  them  into  present  sorrows  ;  we  ask 
for  the  allaying  of  some  instant  pain,  and  He  sends 
us  a  double  share  ;  we  desire  to  be  free  from  chas- 
tisement, and  He  besets  us  on  all  sides  with  His 
correction  ;   we  beseech  Him  to  heal  some  friend 
over  whom  we  watch  in  trembling,  or  to  give  back 
to   us   one    that   already  hangs  between   life    and 
death,  and  He  seems  to  read  all  our  prayers  back- 
ward, and  to  answer  us  by  contradictions.     Yet  in 
all  this,  what  is  there  but  the  order  and  harmony 
of  the   wisdom   and   the  will  of  God  ?     The   con- 
fusion   and  perplexity  is  all  our  own.      It  is   not 
that  He  contradicts  our  will,   but   we   an;   contra- 
dicting  His.      We  cross   Hiui,   not  He  us.      We 
would   be  reigning   in    His  kiniifdoui,  ;ni(l   uuikiii''- 
His  sway  to   follow  our  clioicc.      WC  would  be  llu; 
grantcrs    of   o»ir    own    jxititions  —  make    our    will 
the  law  of  His  dealings  with  us.     But  He  has  His 


250  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

own  purpose  in  all  refusals  ;  a  purpose  deeper  than 
we  can  reach.  It  was  an  apostle  and  a  martyr 
that  said,  "  For  this  thing  I  besought  the  Lord 
thrice,  that  it  might  depart  from  me  ;  and  He  said 
unto  me,  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ;  for  My 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness."  And  He 
who  gave  that  answer  was  even  the  same  who  in 
the  days  of  His  flesh  "  offered  up  prayers  and  sup- 
plications with  strong  crying  and  tears  unto  Him 
that  was  able  to  save  Him  from  death,  and  was 
heard  in  that  He  feared  ;"  • "  for  though  He  were  a 
Son,  yet  learned  He  obedience  by  the  things  which 
He  suffered.''^  There  was  a  time  when  He,  too, 
went  apart  from  His  disciples  a  stone's  cast,  "  and 
fell  on  His  face,  and  prayed,  saying,  O  My  Father, 
if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me  :  never- 
theless not  as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt  :"-  and  even 
**  the  third  time  He  prayed,  saying  the  same 
words."  And  yet  the  cup  did  not  pass  from 
Him  :  the  Father's  will  was  not  so.  Neverthe- 
less, "  there  appeared  an  angel  unto  Him  from 
heaven,  strengthening  Him."^ 

3.  But,  besides  this,  we  know  certainly  that  if 
He  refuse  us  any  thing,  it  is  only  to  give  us  some- 
thing better.  It  may  be  we  asked  amiss.  We 
asked  for  something  that  would  thwart  His  higher 

1  Heb.  V.  7,  8.  2  gt.  Matt.  xxvi.  39-44. 

•^  St.  Luke  xxii.  43. 


Xin.]  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  25l 

purposes  of  mercy  to  us.  We  would  have,  it  may 
be,  the  fair  things  of  this  life  ;  but  He  has  in  store 
for  us  better  things  in  His  kinodom.  You  desire 
to  be  as  others,  to  have  what  they  have,  enjoy  what 
they  enjoy  :  but  He  has  chosen  you,  perhaps,  to  be 
nearer  to  Himself;  to  sit  at  His  feet  and  listen, 
while  others  go  abroad  into  the  mid-stream  of  life. 
For  a  time  it  may  seem  to  be  sadness  and  a  cross  ; 
and  you  are  not  able  to  read  its  meaning,  till  some 
better  thing  begins  to  shadow  itself  out  before  your 
inward  sight ;  and  you  see  that  what  you  would 
have  chosen  for  yourselves  would  have  been  a  less 
blessing,  instead  of  a  greater  ;  a  transitory,  instead 
of  an  abiding  consolation.  Sometimes  He  upbraids 
our  narrowness  of  heart  by  His  refusals.  It  may 
be  that  wc  have  not  asked  enough ;  that  we  liavc 
asked  scantily  when  He  was  ready  to  give  largely. 
When  Solomon  asked  for  wisdom,  the  Lord  gave 
him  also  "  riches,  and  wealth,  and  honours.'"  If 
we  ask  the  great  things  of  His  kingdom,  He  will 
add  unto  us  the  less.  If  we  ask  of  Him  life 
eternal.  He  will  provide  for  the  life  that  now  is. 
"  Take  no  thought  for  to-morrow."  "  Y^our  hea- 
venly Father  knoweth  that  ye  Ikivo  iKH'd  of  these 
things."  "  But  seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  (iod 
and  His  righteousness." 

Ask  not  for  th(^  riglit  hand  or  the  left  hand  in 
•   2  C'hron.  i.  12. 


25^  A  LIFE  OF  PRAYER  [Serm. 

His  kingdom,  but  for  a  place,  though  it  be  the 
lowest  place,  beneath  the  feet  of  His  elect.  Ask 
of  Him  a  clean  heart,  that  you  may  see  God,  that 
you  may  trace  His  hand  in  all  the  ways  of  life  ; 
and  He  wdll  give  you  not  only  things  of  this  life, 
but  also  your  throne  and  crown  in  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  sons  of  God. 

4.  For,  lastly,  though  He  should  seem  to  re- 
fuse all  we  ask.  He  will  not  refuse  to  give  unto 
us  Himself.  The  more  you  converse  with  God, 
the  more  He  will  manifest  Himself  to  you.  The 
very  act  of  prayer  will  make  you  familiar  with  His 
presence.  Though  He  be  pleased  to  take  from 
you,  one  by  one,  as  from  His  servant  Job,  all 
things  you  cleave  to ;  yet  as  all  other  things  are 
withdrawn,  He  will  compass  you  about  with  a  more 
sensible  presence  of  His  love.  Even  as  at  the  last, 
when  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  taken  away 
from  the  man  of  many  sufferings,  the  Lord  an- 
swered Job  out  of  the  whirlwind  ;  so  from  the 
darkness  and  perplexity  of  His  providence,  there 
come  forth,  to  those  whom  God  chastens,  such 
tokens  of  His  presence,  that  they  are  constrained 
to  sav,  "  I  have  heard  of  Thee  with  the  hear- 
ing  of  the  ear  ;"  such  was  all  my  past  knowledge, 
hearsay  and  a  dream;  "but  now  mine  eye  seeth 
Thee.'"     Now  all  is  clear  ;  all  stands  out  before 

^  Job  xlii.  5. 


XIII.]  A   LIFE  OF  PEACE.  Q53 

me  in  full  outline  and  completeness.  So  shall  it 
be  with  those  that  pray  without  fainting.  By 
habitual  converse  with  God,  they  are  drawn  within 
the  veil  through  which  His  providence  controls  our 
mortal  life.  They  rise  above  it ;  and  their  "  life 
is  hid  with  Christ  in  God."^  Their  "  conversa- 
tion is  in  heaven."'  They  begin  to  see  into  the  hid- 
den meaning  of  His  government  over  the  Church, 
and  of  His  dealing  with  themselves ;  into  the  se- 
cret of  the  secret,  whereby  "  to  principalities  and 
powers  in  heavenly  places  is  known  by  the  Church 
the  manifold  wisdom  of  God.'"  Whatsoever  befalls 
them,  they  know  to  be  better  than  they  could 
choose ;  the  best  that  can  be  chosen.  "  I  have 
learned,  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  therewith  to 
be  content.  I  know  both  how  to  be  abased,  and 
I  know  how  to  abound  :  every  where  and  in  all 
things  I  am  instructed  both  to  be  full  and  to  be 
hungry,  both  to  abound  and  to  suffer  need.  I  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth 
me.'"  To  those  who  arc  His,  all  things  arc  not 
only  easy  to  be  borne,  but  even  to  be  gladly  chosen. 
All  events  and  changes  are  llie  will  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus.  They  arc  also  tlie  will  of  (hose  wlio 
have  fellowsliip  with  Christ,  ninl  lliroiigh  liini  with 
God    the    Father.      Their   will    is    uiiilcd    to    thai, 

'  Col.  iii.  .'5.  '   I'liil.  iii.  'JO. 

3  Ephcs.  iii.  10.  '  I'iill.  iv.  1  l.i:i. 


'254  A  LIFE  OF  PEACE.  [Serm.  XIII. 

will  which  moves  heaven  and  earth,  which  gives 
laws  to  angels,  and  rules  the  courses  of  the  world. 
It  is  a  w  onderful  gift  of  God  to  man,  of  which  we 
that  know  so  little  must  needs  speak  little.  To  be 
at  the  centre  of  that  motion,  where  is  everlasting 
rest ;  to  be  sheltered  in  the  peace  of  God  ;  even 
now  to  dwell  in  heaven,  where  all  hearts  are  stayed, 
and  all  hopes  fulfilled.  "  Thou  shalt  keep  him  in 
perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee."^ 

'  Isaiah  xxvi.  3. 


SEKMON  XIV. 


THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  THE  STRENGTH  OF 
OUR  PRAYERS. 


Hebrews  vii.  24,  25. 

"  This  Man,  because  He  continueth  ever,  hath  an  unchangeable 
priesthood.  "Wherefore  He  is  able  also  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost  that  come  unto  God  by  Him,  seeing  He  ever  livcth 
to  make  intercession  for  them." 

The  Church  on  earth,  in  its  mysterious  probation, 
is  waiting  without  the  veil,  until  the  day  of  Christ's 
coming,  while  He,  in  the  presence  of  God,  is  carry- 
ing on  the  work  lie  began  on  earth.  He  is  gone 
up  on  high  to  accomplish  His  mediatorial  office 
in  our  behalf.  When  He  ascended  into  heaven,  He 
began  His  intercession  with  the  Father.  "  'J'his 
Man,"  says  St.  Paul,  that  is,  the  Man  Jesus  Christ, 
Avho  in  our  very  manhood  ascended  u])  mIjovc  all 
thrones,  dominions,  and  powers  ;  above  clicrubim 
and  seraphim  ;  above  the  nine  orders  of  angels  ; 
above  all  created  spirits,  to  the  throne  of  the  Eter- 


256  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

iial,  and  to  the  right  hand  of  God  ;  — "  this  Man, 
because  He  continueth  ever,  hath  an  unchangeable 
priesthood." 

He  is  the  one  true  Priest,  of  whom  all  priests 
that  came  before  Him  were  but  shadows,  faint  and 
fleeting,  dying  and  succeeding  the  son  to  the  fa- 
ther from  generation  to  generation  :  but  He  being 
eternal,  hath  a  true  and  eternal  priesthood.  He  is 
not  Priest  only  but  Sacrifice,  the  one  true  oblation 
offered  by  Himself  unto  the  Father, — a  sacrifice, 
like  Himself,  almighty  and  eternal. 

The  fulfilment  of  His  office  as  High  Priest 
required  that  He  should  appear  for  us  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God.  In  the  Law  this  was  foreshadowed 
by  typical  acts  once  every  year.  On  the  great  .day 
of  atonement,  the  High  Priest  took  the  blood  of 
the  sacrifice,  and  entered  in,  alone,  within  the  veil 
to  sprinkle  it  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  to  inter- 
cede for  the  sins  of  the  people.  Our  Lord,  by 
His  death  and  ascension,  fulfilled  these  types ;  for 
after  He  had  shed  His  own  blood  for  us.  He  went 
within  the  veil,  that  is,  into  heaven,  itself.  He 
is  gone  up  to  stand  before  the  true  mercy-seat,  in 
the  true  temple  of  God.  "  For  Christ  is  not  en- 
tered into  the  holy  places  made  with  hands,  which 
are  the  figures  of  the  true  ;  but  into  heaven  itself, 
now  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God  for  us."^ 

1  Heb.  ix.  24. 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  2^7 

And  as  He  passed  through  the  veil  of  the  hea- 
vens into  the  holy  place,  so  He  has  opened  for  us 
a  way ;  *'  a  new  and  living  way,  which  He  hath 
consecrated  for  us,  through  the  veil,  that  is  to 
say,  His  flesh."  ^  By  which  St.  Paul  means,  that 
His  incarnation  is  an  avenue  or  path  for  us  to 
God ;  that  through  His  flesh  we  have  a  way  and 
a  plea  by  which  to  draw  nigh  to  His  Father  and 
our  Father,  to  His  God  and  our  God.  There 
is  in  the  Divine  presence  a  Man  to  whom  we  are 
united,  through  whom  we  may  approach  the  throne 
of  God.  This  is  what  our  Lord  meant  when  He 
said,  "  I  am  the  Way ;"  that  is,  by  His  incarna- 
tion, by  our  union  with  Him,  and  by  the  gift  of 
Hi§  merits  to  us. 

The  types  of  the  law  further  shew  us  that  He 
is  gone  into  heaven  to  intercede  in  our  behalf, 
that  is,  to  stand  between  God  and  man  as  an 
Advocate  and  a  Mediator.  His  office  of  Inter- 
cessor is  so  full  of  divine  mysteries  of  grace,  that 
to  understand  it  as  we  ought,  wc  must,  under 
the  guidance  of  His  truth  and  Spirit,  dwell  for 
a  while  upon  the  dcptli  of  its  meaning. 

He  intercedes  for, us  chiefly  in  two  ways. 

1.  First,  by  the  exhibition  of  Himself,  in  His 
Divine  manhood,  pierced  for  us,  raised,  and  glori- 
fied.    His  five  blessed  and  holy  wounds  arc  each 
»  Ilcb.  X.  20. 

VOL.   III.  S 


258  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

one  a  mighty  intercession  in  our  behalf.  The 
glorious  tokens  of  His  Cross  and  Passion,  ex- 
hibited before  the  throne  of  God,  plead  for  us 
perpetually.  The  one  great  atonement,  the  one 
great  sacrifice,  offered  with  shedding  of  blood 
once  upon  the  Cross,  and  now  offered  perpetu- 
ally, is  a  continuing  sacrifice.  His  very  pre- 
sence in  heaven  is  in  itself  an  intercession  for  us. 
His  sacrifice  on  the  Cross,  though  perfected  by 
suffering-  of  death  onlv  once  in  time,  is  in  its 
power  eternal.  Therefore  it  stands  a  divine  fact, 
ever  present  and  prevailing,  the  foundation  and 
life  of  the  redeemed  world — before  the  throne  of 
God. 

2.  But  further,  we  are  told  in  holy  Scripture 
that  He  intercedes,  that  is,  that  He  prays  for  us. 
This  is  a  vast  mystery,  of  inscrutable  depth.  As 
God,  He  hears  our  prayers  ;  as  our  Intercessor, 
He  prays  in  our  behalf. 

How  are  these  things  to  be  reconciled  ?  And 
how  are  we  to  understand  that  He  who  is  God 
Himself  can  pray  ?  Is  not  prayer  a  mark  of  infe- 
riority, and  a  sign  of  humiliation  ?  How  can  He 
who  is  co-equal  with  the  Father  and  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  be  any  way  inferior  ?  or  how  can  He  bear 
any  mark  of  humiliation  in  His  glory  ?  To  pray, 
is  the  token  of  need  and  of  infirmity  ;  at  least,  of  a 
desire  which  the  intercessor  cannot  grant  himself. 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH   OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  259 

How,  then,  can  He  who  expressly  promised,  "  If 
ye  shall  ask  any  thing  in  My  name,  I  will  do  it," 
intercede  by  way  of  prayer  ?  Is  it  not  altogether 
beneath  the  glory  of  the  Word  made  flesh  ?  Is 
it  not  the  office  of  a  merely  human,  and  not  a 
divine  advocate  ? 

But  these  difficulties  have  no  reality.  They 
arise  from  not  clearly  remembering  what  and  who 
is  our  High  Priest.  He  is  both  God  and  man  : 
as  God,  always  in  glory,  the  object  of  worship,  the 
giver  of  all  good  :  as  man,  once  humbled  in  the 
flesh,  now  glorified.  As  God,  He  could  never  in- 
tercede by  way  of  prayer.  AVhen  it  is  said  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  "  maketh  intercession  for  us,  with 
groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered,"  it  is  not 
spoken  of  His  Divine  Person  and  office,  but  of  His 
inspirations  in  us  :  "  The  Spirit  helpetli  our  in- 
firmities ;  for  wc  know  not  what  we  should  pray 
for  as  we  ought.'"  As  God,  then,  the  Son  does 
not  intercede  by  prayer.  Neither  as  Man  does  He 
pray  by  any  reason  of  need  or  humiliation.  While 
He  was  on  earth,  He  prayed  as  having  infirmity  : 
He  prayed  not  only  for  us,  but  even  for  Himself. 
"  In  tlie  days  of  His  flesh,  He  offered  iij)  prayers 
and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  tears, 
unto  Him  that  was  able  to  save  Him  from  death  ;" 
and    this    is    doubtless    spoken    of   His    prayer    in 

'  Rom.  viii.  '2G. 


•260  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

the  agony  at  Gethsemane ;  and  thougli  the  cup 
did  not  pass  from  Him,  "  was  heard,  in  that  He 
feared."^ 

While  He  humbled  Himself,  "  in  the  days  of 
His  flesh,"  ^  He  prayed  as  a  part  of  the  work 
He  had  to  do  :  it  was  for  the  accomplishing  of 
the  redemption  of  the  world ;  for  the  blotting  out 
of  the  sin  of  mankind.  This  prayer  of  humi- 
liation passed  away  with  the  sharpness  of  the 
Cross,  to  w^hich  it  was  related,  of  which  it  was  the 
shadow.  The  prayers  which  He  offered,  being  yet 
on  earth,  were  a  part  of  His  obedience  and  suffer- 
ing, to  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world.  All  this, 
therefore,  is  excluded  from  His  intercession  now  in 
heaven.  When  He  entered  into  the  holy  place, 
He  left  all  these  tokens  of  infirmity  outside  the 
veil. 

What,  then,  remains  ?  There  remains  yet  both 
His  intercession  of  the  High  Priest ;  and  as 
Head  of  the  Church  for  the  body  still  on  earth. 
And  in  this  there  is  nothing  of  humiliation,  but 
all  is  honour  and  power ;  it  does  not  cast  a  shade 
upon  the  glory  of  His  Godhead,  unless  it  be  humi- 
liation for  the  Word  to  be  incarnate,  at  the  right 
hand  of  God.  His  present  intercession  is  a  part 
of  His  exaltation  to  the  throne  of  His  mediatorial 
kingdom.  But  in  so  high  a  mystery  it  will  be  safer 
1  Heb.  V.  7.  2  Ibid. 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  26l 

to  use  the  words  of  another :  "  God  could  bestow 
no  greater  gift  on  men  than  to  make  His  Word,  by 
whom  He  created  all  things,  to  be  their  Head,  and 
to  unite  them  to  Him  as  His  members  ;  so  that  He 
might  be  both  Son  of  God  and  Son  of  man  :  as  God, 
one  with  the  Father ;  as  man,  one  with  man :  so 
that,  when  we  speak  with  God  in  prayer,  we  might 
not  separate  the  Son  from  Him  ;  and  when  the 
Body  of  the  Son  prays.  He  might  not  separate  His 
Body  from  Himself;  so  that  He  Himself,  the  Sa- 
viour of  His  Body,  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God,  might  be  One,  who  prays  for  us,  and 
prays  in  us,  and  is  prayed  to  by  us.  He  prays 
for  us  as  our  High  Priest,  He  prays  in  us  as  our 
Head,  He  is  prayed  to  by  us  as  our  God."'  He 
prays,  then,  for  us  as  our  Priest  and  Sacrifice,  in 
His  own  Name,  and  by  the  power  of  His  own 
atonement;  now  no  more  in  humiliation,  but  in 
glory.  Time  was  when  He  prayed  that  His  \v()rk 
might  be  made  perfect  in  His  own  person,  and 
in  itself;-  "Father,  glorify  Thy  Son;"  now  His 
prayer  is,  that  what  He  has  accomplished  may  be 
made  perfect  in  His  whole  mystical  body,  and  in 
every  member  of  the  same.  His  intercession  is 
for  His  whole  Clmrcli,  niid  for  every  one  of  us   in 

'   S.  Augustin.  Trfict.  ad  Psalm.  Ixxxv.      Pctav.    Dc    Iiiciirn. 
lib.  xii.  c.  viii.  10. 
2  St.  John  xvii.  1. 


'262  THE  INTERCESSION   OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

particular,  that  the  work  of  His  Cross  and  Pas- 
sion may  be  applied  to  the  healing  of  our  souls : 
that  what  He  wrought  for  us  may  be  wrought  in 
us  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Therefore, 
His  intercession  is  continuous  and  unceasing.  It 
ever  has  been,  and  ever  shall  be,  until  the  last  of 
His  members  upon  earth  shall  be  made  perfect : 
then  Cometh  the  end.  Until  that  day,  it  is  the 
source  of  all  grace.  From  it  all  sacraments  and 
mysteries  derive  their  power.  The  whole  work  of 
the  incarnation  is  applied  to  us  by  His  interces- 
sion within  the  veil.  The  whole  fruit  gathered  by 
His  Church  on  earth,  is  the  visible  accomplish- 
ment of  His  Divine  prayer  in  the  world  unseen. 
It  is  the  strength  of  our  prayers,  the  stay  of  our 
hope,  our  help  in  temptation,  the  source  of  our  per- 
severance. For  consider  how  great  are  the  perfec- 
tions of  His  intercession.  It  is  the  prayer  of  His 
Divine  charity ;  of  that  love  which  brought  Him 
from  heaven,  and  nailed  Him  upon  the  Cross.  It 
is  also  the  prayer  of  perfect  knowledge.  As  God, 
He  knows  all  our  necessities :  He  knows  our  spi- 
ritual condition  with  a  knowledge  which  only  He 
can  possess.  None  can  know  us  as  He  who  is 
"  quick,  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than  any  two- 
edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder 
of  soul  and  spirit,  and  of  the  joints  and  marrow, 
and  is  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  intents  of 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  263 

the  heart."^     He  knows  us  as  our  Maker,  and  our 
God. 

But  His  intercession  has  also  this  further  per- 
fection. It  is  the  prayer,  not  only  of  Divine  love 
and  knowledge,  but  of  perfect  human  sympathy. 
"  We  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but 
was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  with- 
out sin."-  What  as  God  He  could  never  taste, 
as  Man  He  tried  to  the  uttermost.  He  knows 
us  as  perfect  Man.  The  mysterious  knowledge  of 
personal  experience,  of  personal  suffering  in  human 
flesh,  which  He  gained  on  earth,  He  has  still  in 
heaven.  Even  before  the  eternal  throne  He  has 
still  a  perfect  sense  of  our  infirmities,  of  all  the 
mystery  of  human  sorrow  which  He  learned  on 
earth,  from  the  manger  to  the  Cross.  And  it  is 
specially  in  this  connexion  that  St.  Paul  goes  on 
to  encourage  us  to  pray  :  "  Let  us,  therefore,  come 
boldly,"  he  says,  "  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that 
we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in 
time  of  need."'  Out  of  this  perfect  love,  know- 
ledge, and  sympathy,  He  perpetually  intercedes  for 
each  one  of  us  according  to  our  trial  and  our  day. 
There  can  come  upon  us  nothing  which  has  not 
its  counterpart  and  response  in  His  perfect  com- 
passion.    While  He   prays   for   us,   Ho  feels  with 

'  Hcb.  iv.  12.  ^  lb.  iv.  15.  •'  lb.  iv.  IG. 


264f  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

US.  To  Him  we  may  go  as  to  one  who  is  already 
pleading  for  us  ;  and  through  Him  we  may  draw 
nigh  to  God  in  His  perfect  merits,  which  He  has 
given  us  for  our  own.  They  are  ours,  because 
they  are  His ;  because  they  are  His,  therefore  He 
hath  given  them  to  us.  Such  is  the  mystery  of 
our  Lord's  gracious  intercession  in  our  behalf. 
Let  us,  therefore,  see  how  it  bears  upon  us  in 
our  daily  life,  as  an  incitement,  solace,  and  sup- 
port. 

1.  First,  there  is  here  a  great  warning  for  the 
sinful.  What  is  our  great  High  Priest  now  pray- 
ing for  ?  He  prays  for  the  perfect  overthrow  of 
sin ;  that  all  enemies  may  be  put  under  His  feet ; 
that  out  of  God's  kingdom  may  be  cast  every 
thing  that  offendeth.  His  perpetual  prayer  is,  the 
purification  of  His  Church.  By  virtue  of  it,  every 
sin,  and  every  unclean  spirit,  shall  be  cast  into 
outer  darkness ;  and  therefore  every  sinner,  if  he 
will  not  let  g-o  his  sin,  shall  be  likewise  cast  out. 
If,  indeed,  he  will  break  off  from  his  sin,  it  shall 
be  cast  out,  and  he  shall  abide  ;  but  if  he  will  em- 
brace it  to  his  soul,  he  shall  be  cast  out  with  it. 
Every  sin  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  spirit  is  doomed 
to  the  "  lake  that  burneth  with  fire."  Christ's  in- 
tercession is  day  and  night  prevailing  against  the 
kinsfdom  of  the  wicked  one.  Little  bv  little,  one 
by  one,  with  sure  advance  though  slow,  it  is  thrust- 


XIV,]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  Q65 

inof  out  every  thins:  that  defileth  from  the  bounds 
of  the  kingdom  of  God.  As  the  sun  rises  with 
resistless  light,  first  a  few  clear  beams,  then  a 
broad  stream  of  brightness,  till  it  stands  in  mid- 
day splendour ;  so  is  the  intercession  of  our  Lord. 
Nothing  can  withstand  it ;  all  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness are  even  now  scattering  before  His  face. 
"  He  must  reign  till  He  hath  put  all  things 
under  His  feet,'"  and  the  Sun  of  righteousness  be 
revealed  for  ever  in  the  kinirdom  of  the  Father. 

How,  let  us  ask,  does  this  bear  on  us  ?  And 
how  does  His  all-prevailing  prayer  affect  our  life  ? 
If  we  be  earthly,  sensual,  false-hearted,  proud, 
impure,  vain-glorious,  all  the  Divine  power  of  His 
perpetual  intercession  is  arrayed  against  us.  Awful 
thought !  "  Wo  unto  him  that  striveth  witli  his 
Maker !  Let  the  potsherd  strive  with  the  potsherds 
of  the  earth."-  Let  us  bear  tliis  in  mind.  Lotus 
remember  it  when  we  are  tempted,  and  say,  "  The 
intercession  of  Christ  will  either  separate  me  from 
this  sin,  or  cast  both  me  and  it  out  of  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Tliis  is  the  choice  before  me."  It  is  a 
great  law  like  the  course  oftiiiu^;  stedfast,  silent, 
ever  ndvaiicing,  resistless,  —  when  })ast,  irrevocable. 
Throui^hout  tlu;  whole  Cluirdi  on  earth  ibis  work 
of  secret  purification  is  accomplishing.  In  the 
Divine  foresight  it  is  already  perfect,      in  llie  Di- 

'  1  Cor.  XV.  '2.3.  ^  Isuiali  xlv.  f». 


266  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Sekm. 

vine  government  it  is  day  and  night  fulfilling. 
His  "  fan  is  in  His  hand,  and  He  will  throughly 
purge  His  floor,  and  gather  His  wheat  into  the 
garner  ;  but  He  will  burn  up  the  chaff  with  un- 
quenchable fire."^ 

2.  But  in  this  there  is  also  great  comfort  to  all 
faithful  Christians.  "  He  ever  liveth  to  make  in- 
tercession for  us."  Day  and  night  are  held  up  on 
high  the  pierced  hands,  in  which  is  strength  and 
mastery  for  the  whole  Church  militant  on  earth. 
We  may  take  a  sure  consolation  from  this  in  our 
manifold  trials.  As,  for  instance :  how  great  an 
encouragement  is  this  to  those  who  are  cast  down 
with  fear  lest  they  should  fall  away.  Some  people 
are  severely  afflicted  by  this  foreboding.  Perhaps 
all  at  some  time  have  known  what  it  is.  Who  is 
there  that  cannot  look  back  on  seasons  compared 
with  which  his  present  state  seems  to  be  a  de- 
clension ?  After  our  first  repentance,  we  may  re- 
member how  deep  and  lively  were  our  feelings  of 
shame  and  sorrow.  We  recollect,  perhaps,  when 
we  felt  as  if  the  memory  of  our  sins  could  never 
fade,  or  lose  even  a  shadow  of  their  appalling 
dye.  They  were,  in  our  eyes,  as  "  scarlet,"  and 
*'  red  like  crimson."'  And  we  felt  as  if  the  eyes 
of  the  whole  unseen  world  were  fixed  upon  us  in 
sorrow ;  as  if  the  thoughts  of  all  around  us  were 
1  St.  Matt.  iii.  12.  2  iggiah  i.  18. 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  2(i7 

dwelling  on  our  detected  sinfulness.  We  hoped  to 
go  through  life  repenting ;  growing  more  perfect, 
and  more  fervent  in  compunction,  to  the  end.  And 
what  are  we  now  ?  Or  take,  as  another  example, 
our  first  communion.  It  may  be  that  after  long 
expectation  and  many  fears,  you  came  for  the  first 
time  to  the  altar,  with  an  awed  and  ardent  feel- 
ing of  devotion.  You  felt  as  if  you  had  been  lifted 
into  a  new  world,  where  all  thoughts  and  images, 
shadows  and  lights,  were  realities  of  heaven.  It 
seemed  impossible  that  the  freshness  and  awaken- 
ing nearness  of  these  great  mysteries  of  the  spirit 
should  ever  wear  away.  And  you  thought  that 
every  communion  would  deepen  these  perceptions, 
keep  you  from  all  relapses,  and  sustain  you  "  from 
strength  to  strength"  till  you  should  "  see  the  God 
of  gods  in  Sion."  So  we  deceive  ourselves,  till 
our  sloth  or  our  sin  falsifies  our  hopes.  In  like 
manner,  also,  after  a  first  sickness,  when  you  had 
once  looked  death  near  in  the  face,  and  gone  down 
ankle-deep  into  the  cold  river,  you  thought  that 
nothing  could  ever  deaden  your  intense  perception 
of  the  sinfulness  of  sin,  the  vanity  of  life,  the 
awfulness  of  d\\u'^.  How  humbled,  chastened, 
trembling,  you  were  in  the  day  when  the  sliadow 
of  death  f(;ll  upon  your  heart,  ^'ou  lliouglil,  "If 
I  live,  this  shall  be  my  state  for  ever.  Surely  the 
bitterness  of  death   is  past  ;    and    T  can   never  go 


268  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

back  to  an  easy  fearless  life ;  never  again  be  taken 
unawares."  How,  then,  are  you  now  that  your 
heart  beats  firm,  and  your  strength  has  returned 
into  its  old  channels  again  ?  Are  you  not  ready 
to  say,  "  Oh  that  I  were  as  in  months  past,  as  in 
the  days  when  God  preserved  me,  when  His  candle 
shined  upon  my  head,  and  when  by  His  light  I 
walked  through  darkness.  As  I  was  in  the  days 
of  my  youth,  when  the  secret  of  God  was  upon 
my  tabernacle."^  What,  then,  is  the  source  of  all 
this  conflict  and  alarm,  of  this  conscious  declension 
and  of  this  enduring  hope  ?  If  our  eyes  were 
open,  we  should  see  ourselves  to  be  the  subjects  of 
a  fearful  controversy.  We  should  see  the  power 
of  Satan  striving  to  wrest  us  from  the  intercession 
of  Christ.  "  Simon,  Simon,  Satan  hath  desired 
to  have  you,  that  he  may  sift  you  as  wheat ;  but 
I  have  prayed  for  thee."-  This  is  both  your  peril 
and  your  safety.  What  but  this  are  all  our  trials  ? 
When  you  are  watching  a  dying  bed,  or  bearing- 
secret  anxiety,  or  bufl'eted  with  temptations,  though 
you  seem  all  alone,  and  tost  upon  the  sea.  He  is  in 
the  mountain  in  prayer,  alone,  the  only  and  true 
High  Priest  interceding  for  you.  You  are  crying, 
"  Out  of  the  deep  have  I  called  unto  Thee,  O 
God  ;"^   and  He   is    interceding  either  that  your 

'  Job  xxix.  2-4.  2  St^  Luke  xxii.  31. 

sPs.  cxxx.  1. 


XIV]     THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.      Q69 

trial  may  pass  from  you,  or  that  you  may  have 
strength  to  endure  it  unto  the  end  :  which  we 
know  not ;  the  issue  will  shew  ;  the  day  will  de- 
clare it.  Whichever  way  your  sorrow  turn,  that 
will  be  the  token  what  His  prayer  has  been,  and 
what  for  you  is  best. 

And,  once  more.  His  intercession  for  us  is  a 
consolation  in  a  heavier  trial  even  than  these  :  I 
mean,  in  the  distractions  and  wanderings  which 
break  in  upon  our  prayers,  and  sometimes  make  us 
feel  as  if  we  were  cast  out  altogether  from  His  pre- 
sence. Nothing  is  so  heavy  to  bear  as  this  sense 
of  banishment  and  separation.  At  times  we  feel 
as  if  He  had  "  covered  Himself  with  a  cloud,  that 
our  prayer  should  not  pass  through.'"  And  this 
He  sometimes  permits  for  our  chastisement  and 
humiliation  ;  sometimes  to  try  our  patience  ;  some- 
times to  prove  our  faith.  The  feeling  of  cold,  dead, 
sluggish  insensibility ;  the  unconsciousness  of  His 
presence,  or  rather,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  feeling  of 
His  absence  ;  the  unreality  of  our  words,  specially 
tlie  most  sacred,  when  we  are  on  our  knees  before 
Him  ;  these  make  us,  day  by  day,  turn  willi  tlinnk- 
ful  trust  to  His  ever-perfect,  all-prevailing  inter- 
cession. I  do  not  incnii  tliat  we  rn;iv  \;\]n)  lliis 
comfort  while  we  inchilge  or  make  light  of  our 
distractions,   but   only   when    they   arc   our   sorrow 

^  L.un-  iii.  44. 


270  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

and  our  affliction.  Then  we  may  say,  "If  any 
man  sin,  we  have  an  Advocate  with  the  Father, 
Jesus  Christ  the  righteous :"'  and  may  stay  our 
feeble  prayers  on  His,  which  cannot  fail. 

But  bevond  this,  there  are  seasons  of  still 
greater  trial,  with  which  He  suffers  even  those  He 
best  loves  to  be  overcast.  There  are  times  when 
you  are  in  doubt  or  misgiving  as  to  His  purpose 
towards  you,  or  of  your  own  path  of  duty ;  when 
you  hardly  know  what  you  ought  to  do,  or  ask, 
or  will.  When  you  strive  to  pray,  your  words 
outrun  your  meaning,  and  seem  to  ask  for  things 
you  fear  and  shrink  from ;  such  as  greater  crosses 
and  denials  of  your  will  ;  things  which,  when  you 
hear  them  uttered,  you  are  afraid  to  have  spoken 
in  His  sight.  At  last  you  are  even  speechless 
upon  your  knees  ;  then  take  comfort  in  the  thought, 
*'  He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  us." 
You  may  then  say,  "  What  I  cannot  utter,  or  dis- 
cern, He  is  pleading  in  my  behalf,  with  a  more 
than  human  sympathy,  with  a  perfect  knowledge, 
and  a  Divine  compassion.  No  discernment  of 
mine  is  enough.  I  know  not  what  is  for  my  good  ; 
I  am  darkness  even  to  myself.  Undertake  for 
me."  We  should,  indeed,  be  in  an  evil  case,  if  we 
had  no  Head  sustaining  us  in  heaven ;  if  we  had 
to  bear  alone  the  whole  weight  of  our  own  anxie- 

1  1  St.  John  ii.  1. 


XIV.]  THE  STREXGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  ^2^1 

ties  and  of  our  own  helpless  and  erring  hearts. 
There  is  no  time  when  we  more  truly  feel  our  own 
utter  weakness  than  in  prayer  ;  for  then  His  pre- 
sence and  our  consciousness  meet,  as  it  were,  with 
a  direct  ray ;  no  trust  in  ourselves,  or  confidence 
in  others,  or  dependence  upon  lis^hts  of  our  own, 
whether  of  conscience  or  of  intellect,  will  endure 
before  Him.  We  then  feel  that  we  are  dark,  weak, 
and  helpless.  All  our  hope  is,  to  cast  ourselves 
upon  Him,  and  to  pray  Him  to  choose,  order,  over- 
rule, and  reveal  our  way. 

From  all  this  let  us  draw  two  rules   for  our 
practical  guidance,  and  then  come  to  an  end. 

1.  The  one  is,  to  make  the  intercession  of  our 
Lord  the  measure  of  our  prayers.  It  is  expressly 
said,  that  "we  know  not  what  to  pray  for  as  we 
ought."  We  ask  amiss,  for  things  hurtful,  dan- 
gerous, unseasonable.  We  ask  blindly,  out  of  the 
turbulent  emotions  of  our  hearts,  and  not  out  of 
the  clear  judgment  of  our  consciences.  There  arc 
in  us  two  wills  :  a  superior,  which  is  the  gift  of 
God's  Spirit,  revealing  what  is  riglit ;  and  an  in- 
ferior and  sensitive,  which  is  m-.uh'  up  of  our  own 
feelings,  desires,  and  fears,  'j'he  former  is  given 
us  to  be  our  light  and  guide.  The  latter,  through 
our  sin  or  infirmity,  is  the  chief  rule  by  which  we 
pray.  How  often  have  wc  asked  for  things  which 
afterwards  we  see,  if  they  had  been  given  us,  would 


272  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

liave  been  our  destruction.  They  would  have  de- 
feated blessings,  or  precipitated  upon  us,  at  a  burst, 
a  thousand  secret  temptations.  Happy  for  us  there 
is  interposed  a  wise  and  loving  will  between  our 
prayers  and  their  fulfilment.  If  we  could  bring 
about  the  accomplishment  of  all  we  ask,  we  should 
need  no  other  scourge. 

Blessed  thought,  that  all  our  prayers  are  sifted 
out  by  His  unerring  wisdom.  Whatsoever  is  good 
He  gives  us ;  whatsoever  is  for  our  hurt  He  turns 
aside  ;  and  yet  He  never  refuses  us  any  thing,  but 
to  give  us  something  better.  Whatsoever  He  re- 
fuses. He  will  always  give  Himself — His  own  pre- 
sence, help,  and  strength.  Let  us,  then,  pray  for 
ourselves,  as  He  prays  for  us.  Let  us  ask  nothing 
but  what  He  asks.  Nothing,  so  far  as  we  can, 
that  is  contrary  to  His  will.  Our  best  rule  is 
this  :  to  ask  the  great  things  of  His  kingdom, 
the  cleansing  of  His  blood,  and  the  gift  of  His 
Spirit.  All  other  things  we  may  leave  in  His 
hands ;  and  they  shall,  as  He  sees  good,  be  added 
unto  us. 

But  this  need  not  restrain  us  from  pouring  out 
our  own  hearts  before  Him,  as  He  did  before  His 
Father :  "  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup 
pass  from  Me  :  nevertheless  not  as  I  will,  but  as 
Thou  wilt."  We  may  tell  and  ask  all  under  this 
condition.     God  is  indulgent,  and  loves  to  give  the 


XIV.]  THE  STRENGTH   OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  273 

very  thing  we  ask  for.  To  doubt  this  would  dis- 
honour His  fatherly  compassion.  He  is  not  only 
merciful  and  loving,  but  has  a  divine  indulgence, 
a  refined  and  perfect  tenderness  in  blessing  us. 
He  oives  us  not  only  what  we  need,  but  much 
more ;  not  only  what  is  enough,  but  what  may 
make  us  glad  :  even  in  the  manner,  and  in  the 
measure  of  bestowing  His  gifts  on  us,  He  reveals 
the  tokens  of  His  fatherly  affection. 

2.  The  other  rule  is,  to  make  His  intercession 
to  be  the  law  of  our  life.  We  ought  to  be  what  He 
prays  we  may  become.  He  prays  that  we  may  be 
cleansed  and  perfected.  Strive,  then,  so  to  be.  Let 
your  life  answer  to  His  prayer  for  you.  Bear  this 
in  mind  all  day  long,  in  your  daily  toils  and  cares. 
Let  your  will  be  one  with  His  will,  and  be  glad  to 
be  disposed  of  by  Him.  He  will  order  all  things 
for  you.  Every  thing  shall  fall  into  its  own  place 
— joys,  sorrows,  blessings,  the  rod  of  chastisement, 
and  the  sharpness  of  the  Cross  ;  all  shall  be  but  the 
carrying  out  of  His  intercession,  and  the  fuliilmeiit 
of  your  own  desires.  What  can  cross  your  will, 
when  it  is  one  with  His  will,  on  which  all  crea- 
tion hangs,  rotijxl  which  all  things  nnolve?  "All 
])ow(!r  in  heaven  jiiul  in  earth  is  given  unto'"  our 
Head;  and  in  Iliiu  Jill  is  ours,  if  our  will  he  His. 
Kee])   your   hearts   clear  of  evil    thoughts;    for  as 

'  St.  Matt,  xxviii,  IS. 
VOL.   III.  T 


274"  THE  INTERCESSION  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

evil  choices  estrange  the  will  from  His  will,  so 
evil  til  oughts  cloud  the  soul,  and  hide  Him  from 
us.  Whatever  sets  us  in  opposition  to  Him  makes 
our  will  an  intolerahle  torment,  a  foretaste  of  "  the 
worm  that  dieth  not."  So  long  as  we  will  one 
thing  and  He  another,  we  go  on  piercing  ourselves 
through  and  through  with  a  perpetual  wound ;  and 
His  will  advances  moving  on  in  sanctity  and  ma- 
jesty, crushing  ours  into  the  dust. 

If  you  will  keep  your  life  in  harmony  with  His 
intercession,  you  will  find  the  tokens  of  His  pre- 
vailing prayer.  We  are  wont  to  be  faint  believ- 
ers in  the  power  of  prayer,  and  therefore  we  fail 
either  to  obtain  or  to  recognise  His  answers  of 
love.  We  utter  our  petitions  as  children  let  ar- 
rows fly,  without  aim,  or  care  to  find  them.  If  we 
would  keep  a  watchful  note,  both  of  our  prayers 
and  of  our  life,  we  should  find  them  solving 
each  other  as  a  key  and  cipher.  Both  in  an- 
swers and  in  refusals,  or  rather  in  all  answers  — 
for  refusals  are  answers  more  full  of  love,  per- 
haps, than  all — we  should  see  the .  accomplish- 
ment of  our  own  petitions.  Whatsoever  you  spe- 
cially desire,  ask  before  the  altar.  What  He  does 
in  deed  and  truth  on  high,  the  Church  does  here 
in  representation  and  memorial.  He  offers  the  one 
great  sacrifice,  and  prays  with  perpetual  interces- 
sion :    we   spread   before    Him    the   memorials   of 


XIV]  THE  STRENGTH  OF  OUR  PRAYERS.  275 

His  sacrifice,  and  pray  over  them  in  the  virtue  of 
His  one  great  oblation.  Bring  your  deepest  de- 
sires, the  unuttered  craving  of  your  soul  to  Him  in 
that  blessed  sacrament,  and  persevere  in  your  peti- 
tion. Though  He  be  long  silent,  even  though  He 
say,  "  It  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's  bread, 
and  to  cast  it  to  dogs  ;"^  still  wait,  and  persevere. 
You  shall  have  the  desire  of  your  heart,  or  some- 
thing better  than  you  can  either  ask  or  think.  He 
is  standing  with  the  blood  of  atonement  before  the 
mercy -seat.  We  arc  worshipping  in  the  outer 
courts  of  the  eternal  temple,  awaiting  His  return. 
When  He  comes  forth  again,  it  will  be  to  bless  the 
Israel  of  God.  Until  then,  the  prayers  of  hearts 
which  no  man  can  number,  of  saints,  penitents,  and 
mourners,  in  all  lands,  the  perpetual  intercession  of 
His  whole  body,  as  one  great  waterflood,  lifting  up 
its  voice  on  high,  ascends  through  Him,  who  for  us 
has  "  entered  into  that  within  the  veil."  Where- 
fore let  us  draw  nigh  to  Him  ;  for  He  is  able  "  to 
save  to  the  uttermost"  the  greatest  of  sinners  from 
the  deepest  abyss  of  sin,  with  a  perfect  salvation, 
even  unto  the  end. 

•  St.  Matt.  XV.  L>G. 


SERMON  XV. 


PRAISE. 


Psalm  cl.  6. 

"  Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord.     Praise  ye 

the  Lord." 

These  words  end  the  Book  of  Psalms — the  volume 
of  the  Book  of  God's  praise.  The  Spirit  of  God, 
who  filled  psalmists  and  seers  with  these  songs  of 
Divine  joy,  utters  here  the  great  law  of  creation 
as  the  last  note  of  this  heavenly  strain.  God  made 
the  world  for  His  glory  ;  and  the  breath  of  all 
living  is  due  to  Him  in  praise,  "  Let  every  thing 
that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord."  We  need  not 
straiten  these  words  to  the  letter.  Breath  is  life ; 
and  it  is  a  summons  to  all  living,  in  heaven  and  in 
earth  and  under  the  earth,  to  all  spirits  of  men 
and  angels,  to  pay  their  homage  of  praise  to  the 
Lord  of  all. 

It  is  a  remarkable  token  of  the  unity  of  the 


Serm.  XV.]  PRAISE.  277 

mystical  body  of  Christ,  both  before  and  since  His 
coming,  that  the  Catholic  Church  should  receive 
from  the  Church  of  Israel  its  chief  songs  of  praise. 
Though  "  they  without  us"  could  "  not  be  made 
perfect,"  yet  we   without  them  should  have  inhe- 
rited no  Psalter  of  Divine  joy.     Without  doubt, 
the  Spirit  of  Christ,  Avho  dwells  in  all  fulness  with 
His  Church,  w^ould  have  multiplied  the  sweet  sin- 
gers of  His  true  Israel,  so  that  praise  should  never 
have  been  silent  before  His  altars.     But  it  may 
be,  that  He  would  teach  us  a  lesson  of  perfect  sym- 
pathy and  of  mutual  help  among  the  members  of  His 
body  ;  and  above  all,  a  lesson  of  humility  and  fear. 
He  has  so  ordained  His  kingdom,  that  the  Psalter 
should  every  day  admonish  us  to  remember  that  we 
bear  not  the  root,  but  that  the  root  bears  us ;  lest, 
beinsf  hiirh-minded,  we,  like  them,  should  be  cut  off. 
In  tlie  history  of  Israel  there  is,  perhaps,  no- 
thing more  striking  than  the  spirit  of  praise  which 
broke  forth  at  solemn  seasons  from  the  whole  peo- 
ple of  God.     They  seem  to  move  before  us  in  a 
procession    of  joy.     "  Then   sang   Moses   and  the 
children    of  Israel   tliis   song  unto   the  Lord,    and 
spake,  saving,   I  will  sing   inilo   lh(^  Lord,    for   Ho 
hath  triumphed  gloriously;   the  horse  [tnd  his  rider 
hath  lie  thrown  info  the  sea.  .   .  .  And  Miriam  llie 
prophetess,  the  sister  of  Aaron,  took  a  timbrel   in 
her  hand  :  and  all   the  women   went  out  after  her 


278  riiAisE.  [Serm. 

with  timbrels  and  with  dances.  And  Miriam  an- 
swered them,  Sing  ye  to  the  Lord,  for  He  hath 
triumphed  gloriously  ;  the  horse  and  his  rider  hath 
He  thrown  into  the  sea."^  Again  :  "  So  David  went 
and  brought  up  the  ark  of  God  from  the  house  of 
Obed-edom  into  the  city  of  David  with  gladness. 
And  it  was  so,  that  when  they  that  bare  the  ark 
of  the  Lord  had  gone  six  paces,  he  sacrificed  oxen 
and  fatlings.  And  David  danced  before  the  Lord 
with  all  his  might ;  and  David  was  girded  with  a 
linen  ephod.  So  David  arid  all  the  house  of  Israel 
brought  up  the  ark  of  the  Lord  with  shouting, 
and  with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet."^  "  And  David 
spake  to  the  chief  of  the  Levites  to  appoint  their 
brethren  to  be  the  sing-ers  with  instruments  of  mu- 
sic,  psalteries  and  harps  and  cymbals,  sounding, 
by  lifting  up  the  voice  with  joy.  .  .  .  And  David 
was  clothed  with  a  robe  of  fine  linen,  and  all  the 
Levites  that  bare  the  ark,  and  the  singers,  and 
Chenaniah  the  master  of  the  song  with  the  singers : 
David  also  had  upon  him  an  ephod  of  linen. 
Thus  all  Israel  brought  up  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
of  the  Lord  with  shouting,  and  with  sound  of  the 
cornet,  and  with  trumpets^  and  with  cymbals, 
making  a  noise  with  psalteries  and  harps."^  And 
again :  "  It  is  well  seen,  O  God,  how  Thou  goest  j 

1  Exod.  XV.  1,  20,  21.  2  2  Sam.  vi.  12-15. 

^  1  Chron.  xv.  16,  27,  28. 


XV.]  PRAISE.  279 

how  Thou,  my  God  and  King,  goest  in  the  sanc- 
tuary. The  singers  go  before,  the  minstrels  follow 
after ;  in  the  midst  are  the  damsels  playing  with 
the  timbrels."'  "  Ye  shall  have  a  song,  as  in  the 
night  when  a  holy  solemnity  is  kept ;  and  glad- 
ness of  heart,  as  when  one  goeth  with  a  pipe  to 
come  into  the  mountain  of  the  Lord,  to  the  mighty 
One  of  Isracl."- 

This  sets  vividly  before  us  a  state  of  heart,  a 
temper  of  love  and  thanksgiving,  a  filial  and  almost 
childlike  simplicity  of  grateful  joy  ;  and  in  this 
way  it  brings  out,  more  clearly  than  any  words, 
what  is  the  full  meaning  of  praise  ;  from  what 
source  it  springs,  and  in  what  ways  it  is  expressed. 
If  we  are  to  define  it  in  words,  we  may  say  that 
praise  is  thankful,  lowly,  loving  worship  of  the 
goodness  and  majesty  of  God.  And  therefore  we 
often  find  the  word  '  praise'  joined  with  '  blessing' 
and  *  thanksoiviufT :'  but  though  all  three  are  akin 
to  each  other,  they  are  not  all  alike.  They  are  steps 
in  a  gradual  scale — a  song  of  degrees.  Thanksgiv- 
ing runs  up  into  blessing,  and  blessing  ascends  into 
praise  :  for  praise  comprehends  both,  and  is  the 
highest  and  most  perfect  work  of  all  living  spirits. 

Let  us,  then,  see  in  what  ])raise  consists,  what 
are  its  elements,  or  ratlicr  from  what  source  h 
flows. 

'  I's.  Ixviii.  24.  2;.  2  I.siiiah  xxx.  29. 


2S0  PRAISE.  [Sekm. 

1.  First,  then,  it  carises  from  a  consciousness  of 
blessings  already  received.  In  one  sense  we  may 
say  that  all  the  promises  of  God  are  actual  posses- 
sions ;  for  in  Christ,  whom  the  Father  has  given 
us,  "  all  the  promises  of  God  are  yea,  and  in  Him 
Amen  ;'"  that  is,  all  are  sealed  and  sure.  And 
again,  "  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped 
for."-  The  faithful  do  really  possess  even  things 
to  come  ;  and  they,  therefore,  praise  God  for  His 
promises,  on  which  they  rest  as  if  they  were  al- 
ready fulfilled.  But  this  is  not  the  consciousness 
we  are  now  speaking  of :  I  mean,  the  consciousness 
of  particular  blessings  bestowed  upon  us,  one  by 
one,  of  which  we  have  personal  and  present  enjoy- 
ment. As,  for  example,  the  gift  of  regeneration  ; 
the  grace  of  conversion  ;  the  spirit  of  repentance  ; 
the  spiritual  food  of  the  Body  and  Blood  of  Christ : 
or  again,  the  blessings  of  life,  health,  peace,  hap- 
piness, and  home  ;  or  restoration  from  sickness, 
danger,  and  the  gates  of  the  grave  ;  and  the  num- 
berless, and  therefore  nameless,  blessings  and  gifts 
of  this  world  and  of  the  next,  both  for  the  body 
and  for  the  soul,  of  which  our  life  is  full.  Now 
one  great  difference  between  Christians  is  this,  that 
multitudes  take  all  these  as  things  of  course,  with- 
out any  conscious  recognition  of  the  gift  as  such, 
and  of  the  Giver.  The  rest  see  in  every  blessing, 
1  2  Cor.  i.  20.  2  Hcb.  xi.  1. 


XV.]  PRAISE.  281 

a  several  token  of  God's  loving  care,  and  are  con- 
scious that  each  one  comes  direct  from  His  hand, 
and  is  an  expression  of  His  good-will.  Those  of 
whom  we  spoke  first,  imagine  to  themselves  a  gene- 
ral scheme,  in  which  such  things  are  so  interwoven, 
as  to  make  a  kind  of  woof  or  texture — -one  undis- 
tinguished continuous  whole,  beginning,  indeed,  in 
the  will  of  God  afar  off,  and  all  along  drawn  on- 
ward by  the  movement  of  His  providence  —  this 
they  at  once,  when  reminded  of  it,  will  acknow- 
ledge ;  but  they  have  no  sustained  and  separate 
consciousness  of  His  direct  personal  care  of  them 
in  detail.  I  pass  by,  of  course,  all  who  receive 
God's  blessings  in  unbelief,  or  cold  unthankful- 
ness.  We  are  now  speaking  of  a  better  kind  of 
people.  And  yet  this  vague  general  way  of  tak- 
ing the  gifts  of  God,  produces  great  evils  in  the 
heart.  It  forms  a  habit  of  insensibility,  and  there- 
fore of  undesigned  ingratitude.  AVe  well  know 
what  we  think  of  a  friend  who  takes  all  kindnesses 
as  matters  of  course,  and  makes  no  remarks  ;  who 
enjoys  all,  and  gives  no  tokens  of  acknowlcdt^-- 
ment.  So  some  men  deal  with  (Jod  :  and  tlu^  evil 
does  not  stop  here  ;  for  unthankfulncss,  though  it 
sounds  oiilv  like  a  nc'ralion  —  that  is,  "'iviiiL''  no 
thanks — is  really  a  positive  sin  ;  for  such  p('o])l(' 
are  repining,  impatient,  and  gloomy,  if  blessings  are 
withheld.     What  they  give  no  thanks  for,  they  use 


2S^2  PRAISE.  [SiiRM. 

as  if  it  were  their  own;  and  when  it  is  kept  back 
awhile,  or  taken  away,  they  feel  as  if  they  were 
defrauded :  forgetting  that  they  have  been  all  the 
while  robbing  God,  not  God  them.  Now  as  lights 
are  best  seen  against  a  darkened  sky,  so  we  shall 
best  see  what  is  the  spirit  of  conscious  gratitude, 
by  setting  it  against  such  a  spirit  as  this.  It  con- 
sists in  a  watchful,  minute  attention  to  the  parti- 
culars of  our  state,  and  to  the  multitude  of  God's 
gifts,  taken  one  by  one.  It  fills  us  with  a  con- 
sciousness that  God  loves  and  cares  for  us,  even  to 
the  least  event  and  smallest  need  of  life  ;  and  that 
we  actually  have  received,  and  do  now  possess  as 
our  own,  gifts  which  come  direct  from  God.  It  is 
a  blessed  thought,  that  from  our  childhood  God 
has  been  laying  His  fatherly  hands  upon  us,  and 
always  in  benediction  ;  that  even  the  strokes  of 
His  hands  are  blessings,  and  among  the  chiefest 
we  have  ever  received.  When  this  feeling  is  awak- 
ened, the  heart  beats  with  a  pulse  of  thankfulness. 
Every  gift  has  its  return  of  praise.  It  awakens 
an  unceasing  daily  converse  with  our  Father :  He 
speaking  to  us  by  the  descent  of  blessings,  we  to 
Him  by  the  ascent  of  thanksgiving.  And  all  our 
whole  life  is  thereby  drawn  under  the  light  of  His 
countenance ;  and  is  filled  with  a  gladness,  se- 
renity, and  peace,  which  only  thankful  hearts  can 
know. 


XV.]  PRAISE.  QSS 

2.  Another  source  of  praise  is  a  sense  of  our 
own  unworthiness.  To  receive  blessings  as  if  they 
were  no  more  than  we  may  expect,  betrays  a  strange 
unconsciousness  of  what  we  are,  and  of  what  they 
imply.  Even  though  we  were  as  pure  as  Adam 
when  he  was  created,  we  should  have  no  claims  on 
God.  He  cannot  be  our  debtor.  The  very  gift 
of  life  is  free,  and  makes  us  debtors  to  Him  in  all 
we  are.  Our  whole  being  is  His  by  creation  :  He 
mio^ht  sustain  or  forsake  us  at  His  sovereion  will. 
How  much  more  after  we  became  sinners,  fallen 
and  dead.  Every  blessing,  therefore,  is  to  us  as 
the  ring  and  the  best  robe  which  were  given  to 
the  prodigal,  a  token  of  forgiveness,  and  gift  of  fa- 
therly compassion.  Of  what  peace  and  solace  do 
people  rob  themselves  I  They  abound  in  blessings 
which  to  their  palate  have  each  its  own  natural 
sweetness,  but  they  perceive  in  them  no  further 
or  higher  tokens  of  especial  grace.  They  do  not, 
perhaps,  challenge  God's  gifts  upon  their  own  de- 
servings,  but  they  do  not  see  in  iheiu  God's  love 
to  sinners.  A  sense  of  their  own  unworthiness 
wouhl  change  all  into  a  revelation  of  coinjjassioii. 
Every  blessing  would  tlien  be  a  pledge  of  eternal 
love,  which  even  in  our  sins  still  holds  us  fast. 
Our  daily  bread  would  bf  a  sign  of  pardon,  mikI, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  ;i  s;icraiiient  of  perpetual  grace. 
"Every  good   gift   and    every  perfect  gift  is  IVom 


-84  TRAISE.  [Serm. 

above,  and  comcth  down  from  the  Father  of  lights, 
Avith  wliom   is   no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of 
turning.'"  His  love  is  changeless  ;  and  His  mercies, 
as  the  lio^ht  and  life-fyiviniic  influence    of  heaven, 
flow  down  in   an    everlasting  flood,  pouring  forth 
in  boundless  streams  upon  all  "  things  that  have 
breath."     "  He  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  upon  the 
evil  and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  upon  the  just 
and  on  the   unjust."     In  His   sight  there  is  none 
good,  none  clean  :   "  Behold  even  to  the  moon,  and 
it  shineth  not ;  yea,  the  stars  are  not  pure  in  His 
sight."-     "  His  angels  He   chargeth  with  folly  ;"^ 
and  "putteth  no   trust  in  His   saints:"^  and  yet 
upon  us  descends,  without  measure  or  stay,  the  ful- 
ness of  goodness  and  of  grace.     Unw^orthy  of  the 
least,  we  have  the  greatest  gifts :  life  and  being, 
and  all  sustenance  of  life ;  the  Blood  of  His  Son, 
the  Spirit  of  holiness,  the  earnest  of  "the  inherit- 
ance of  the  saints  in  light."     The  more  conscious 
we  are  of  our  unworthiness,  the  larger  will  His  gifts 
appear,  the  more  full  of  all  kind  of  sweetness.    It  is 
this  that  fills  the  humble  with   such  especial  jov. 
Therefore  St.  Paul  says,  "  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit 
is  love,  joy,  peace  ;"^  and  again,  "  We  joy  in  God.'"^ 
There  is  no   surer  sign   of  a  heart  which  knows 
the  love   of  God  and   its    own    sinfulness   than  a 

'  St.  James  i.  17.  -  Job  xxv.  5.  ^  lb.  iv.  IS. 

-1  lb.  XV.  15.  5  Gal.  V.  22.  «  Rom.  v.  11. 


XV.]  piiAiSE.  285 

spirit  of  joy.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  think  that 
clouded  and  heavy  looks,  mournful  tones,  and  great 
words  of  humiliation,  are  signs  of  pure  repentance. 
Even  in  its  lowest  depths  the  spirit  of  penitence 
is  a  spirit  of  praise.  "  Great  is  Thy  mercy  toward 
me,  and  Thou  hast  delivered  my  soul  from  the 
nethermost  hell."' 

3.  And  once  more  :  this  sense  of  unworthiness 
opens  another,  and  that  the  highest  source  of 
praise — the  pure  love  of  God.  It  is  in  every  way 
both  right  and  lawful  that  we  should  love  God 
from  a  sense  of  His  goodness  to  us ;  from  a  grate- 
ful acknowledgment  of  Ilis  manifold  gifts  ;  which 
sustain  the  life  both  of  our  body  and  soul.  He  is 
the  Giver  of  all  that  gladdens  and  cheers  our 
hearts ;  the  fountain  of  all  peace  and  solace.  He 
is  our  shelter,  home,  rest,  and  everlasting  bliss  ; 
and  as  such  we  must  love  Him  who  is  the  true 
end  for  which  we  were  created.  I>ut  tliis  love  is 
not  pure.  It  may  not,  indeed,  be  mercenary,  or 
for  our  own  sake  ;  though  some  desire  to  love  God 
only  because  it  is  the  way  to  be  happy  in  them- 
selves. The  pure  love  of  God  is  to  love  Him  as 
He  loves  us;  freely,  because  He  is  love.  He  loves 
us,  all  sinful  as  we  are;  l)ut  lie  is  nicrcv,  love, 
goodness,  and  bcaiily.  Turc  love  loves  Him  not  lor 
the  sake  of  obtaining  the  inheritance  of  life,  nor  of 

1  Ps.  Ixxxvi.  i;j. 


286  PRAISE.  [Serm. 

being  saved  from  death ;  but  because  the  Father 
loves  us,  and  gave  His  Son  foi*  us  ;  because  the  Son 
loves  us,  and  gave  Himself  to  die  in  our  stead ;  be- 
cause the  Holy  Ghost  loves  us,  and  with  miracu- 
lous long-suffering  still  dwells  in  us.  We  love  Him 
because  He  is  love,  and  because  He  first  loved  us ; 
because  He  is  our  King  and  our  God  ;  because 
"great  is  His  goodness," and  "great  is  His  beauty." 
To  this  perfect  state  pure  love  aspires,  as  the  flame 
points  to  heaven.  God  is  the  desired  end  of  love, 
as  the  runninof  brook  is  of  thirst.  Here  is  the  true 
fountain  of  praise  and  worship — love  ascending  out 
of  self  to  rejoice  in  God.  This  is  the  meaning  of 
the  Psalmist.  Let  all  created  life  bow  itself  before 
the  majesty  of  God  ;  before  the  beauty  of  holiness, 
the  glory  of  uncreated  love.  "  Let  every  thing  that 
hath  breath  praise  the  Lord." 

Such,  then,  is  praise ;  a  high  gift  of  God's  Spirit 
in  us,  a  sure  token  of  His  presence  in  the  soul  of 
man. 

1.  It  is,  therefore,  a  sacrifice  most  acceptable 
in  His  sight.  There  is  in  praise  this  special  grace, 
that  it  looks  for  no  answer,  no  wages,  no  reward. 
It  is  the  free  loving  joy  of  a  heart  grateful  for  the 
past,  and  for  blessings  now  in  our  hands.  And 
this  shews  us  why  it  is  so  much  harder  to  praise 
than  to  pray.  Our  necessities  bring  us  to  our 
knees :    our   sins,   fears,    sorrows,   the    thought   of 


XV]  PRAISE.  287 

death,  the  vision  of  the  Face  before  which  heaven 
and  earth  flee  away  ;  these  bring  us  down  upon 
the  earth.  Prayer  may  be,  and  often  is,  no  more 
than  the  cry  of  self  in  pain  or  terror.  Even  in 
sincere  and  religious  minds  prayer  is  the  ready 
utterance  of  a  burdened  and  troubled  heart.  The 
memory  of  disobedience,  a  sense  of  personal  sinful- 
ness, a  desire  of  forgiveness,  repentance,  and  the 
love  of  God,  drive  us  day  by  day  to  Him.  The  more 
we  know  our  own  needs,  emptiness,  weakness,  and 
estrangement  from  God,  the  more  we  are  excited 
to  pray.  And  many  live  in  the  practice  of  habitual 
and  persevering  prayer,  to  whom  praise  is  still  a 
diflicult  task,  a  conscious  cflbrt,  in  which  the  heart 
lags  behind  the  lips.  AVe  may  all  know  this  from 
the  fact,  that  we  find  it  easier  to  realise  the  thoughts 
and  the  spirit  of  Lent  than  of  Easter ;  so  that  there 
is  a  strange  sense  of  regret  and  fear  when  the 
forty  days  are  at  an  end,  and  Easter-ovc  comes 
in.  We  feel  as  if  w^e  were  parting  from  the  pre- 
sence of  a  true  though  mournful  friend,  a  sad  but 
a  safe  instructor ;  as  if  the  frcencss  and  brightness 
of  Easter-day  were  come  too  soon,  and  wvvv  all  loo 
high  for  us.  And  so  in  truth  it  is  ;  for  festivals 
are  foretastes  of  heaven  —  the  praise  of  eternity  be- 
gun. They  raise  us  up  from  earth  towards  (iod, 
and  demand  uplifted  hearts.  The  tones  of  spiritual 
joy  are  loftier  thnn  the  notes  of  litanies  and  ])(Mii- 


^S8  PRAISE.  [Serm. 

tential  psalms.  To  feast  with  God  needs  more 
trust,  more  hope,  more  thankful  joy,  more  kin- 
dling love.  And  therefore  it  is  more  acceptable 
before  Him,  who  so  desires  our  bliss,  and  loves 
our  love,  that  He  has  made  it  the  first  law  of  His 
kingdom,  that  we  should  love  Him  with  all  our 
strength.  He  not  only  suffers  us  to  love  Him ; 
He  commands  it.  And  praise  is  the  voice  of  love 
lifted  up  in  thanks,  blessing,  and  worship.  Sorrow, 
tears,  sighing,  humiliation,  penance,  confession,  self- 
affliction,  these  things  are  not  the  genial  tokens 
of  God's  kingdom.  They  came  with  sin,  and  with 
sin  they  will  pass  away.  To  Him  they  are  ac- 
ceptable only  as  the  just  abasement  of  sinners  :  He 
accepts  them  in  us  for  His  Son's  sake,  as  signs  of 
our  submission  to  the  sentence  of  death  recorded 
upon  the  Cross :  He  accepts  them,  because  He 
accepts  us  in  the  Beloved.  In  themselves  they 
have  no  favour  before  the  eyes  of  love.  They  are 
shadows  which  follow  sin,  and  with  sin  they  shall  be 
cast  out,  when  "  God  shall  wipe  aw^ay  all  tears" 
from  the  eyes  of  His  children  ;  *'  and  there  shall  be 
no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither 
shall  there  be  any  more  pain."'  Blessing,  gladness, 
and  praise,  festivals  of  spiritual  joy,  and  the  great 
sacrifice  of  thanksgiving,  the  perfect  Eucharist  of 
the  whole  mystical  body  with  its  glorious  Head — 
'  Rev.  xxi.  4. 


XV.]  PRAISE.  289 

this  is  the  homaor'e  in  which  God  deliohts,  the  true 
worship  of  His  kingdom. 

2.  And  this  shews  us  further,  that  as  praise  is 
most  acceptable  to  God,  so  it  is  most  blessed  for  us. 
To  live  in  a  spirit  of  praise,  is  to  live  a  life  as  near 
to  heaven  as  earth  can  be.  AVhat  can  be  more 
blissful  than  the  state  of  the  Psalmist :  "  Bless  the 
Lord,  O  my  soul ;  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless 
His  holy  Name  :'"  that  is,  my  whole  living  spirit : 
my  heart,  with  all  its  trust  and  all  its  love,  all  its 
gratitude  and  all  its  joy ;  my  conscience,  with  all 
its  witness  of  righteousness  and  equity  ;  my  will, 
with  all  its  obedience  and  all  its  patience ;  my 
understanding,  with  all  its  reason  and  all  its  light ; 
my  whole  being,  with  a  full  assent  and  fast  adher- 
ence to  God,  my  "exceeding  great  reward."-  Can 
the  spirit  of  a  man  reach  nearer  to  the  blessedness 
of  angels ;  of  tliosc  pure  spirits  who  dwell  in  God, 
and  live  in  Him  by  knowledge,  love,  and  service? 
"  I  will  praise  Thee  with  my  whole  heart ;  I  will 
shew  forth  all  Thy  marvellous  works.  I  will  be 
glad  and  rejoice  in  Thee."  "  The  Lord  is  my 
strength  and  my  shield  ;  my  heart  trusted  in  Him, 
and  I  am  liclpcd  :  therefore  my  lieart  greatly  re- 
joiceth  ;  and  with  my  song  will  I  praise  Him." 
*'  I  will  also  praise  Thee  with  the  psaltery,  even 
Thy  truth,  O  my  God  :   unto  I'hce  will  I  sing  with 

'    Ps.  ciii.  1.  -'  lien.  xv.  I. 

VOL.   III.  U 


290  PRAISE.  [Serm. 

the  harp,   O   Thou  Holy  One  of  Israel."'     And 
that,  too,  even  in  darkness  and  affliction. 

This  is  a  sure  test  of  the  purity  of  our  love. 
We  are  ready  to  praise  when  all  shines  fair :  but 
when  life  is  overcast ;  when  all  things  seem  to  be 
against  us  ;  when  we  are  in  fear  for  some  cherished 
happiness ;  or  in  the  depths  of  sorrow  ;  or  in  the 
solitude  of  a  life  which  has  no  visible  support ;  or 
in  a  season  of  sickness,  and  with  the  shadow  of 
death  approaching, — then  to  praise  God ;  then  to 
say,  This  fear,  loneliness,  affliction,  pain,  and  trem- 
bling awe,  are  as  sure  tokens  of  love,  as  life,  health, 
joy,  and  the  gifts  of  home  :  "  the  Lord  gave,  a  ad 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away  :"  on  either  side  it  is 
He,  and  all  is  love  alike  ;  "  blessed  be  the  Name 
of  the  Lord  :'*  this  is  the  true  sacrifice  of  praise. 
What  can  come  amiss  to  a  soul  which  is  so  in  ac- 
cord with  God  ?  What  can  make  so  much  as  one 
jarring  tone  in  all  its  harmony?  In  all  the  changes 
of  this  fitful  life,  it  ever  dwells  in  praise.  "  The 
Lord  will  command  His  lovingkindness  in  the  day- 
time"— in  all  the  full  activity  and  bright  lights  of 
life, — "  and  in  the  night" — in  sorrow,  sadness,  and 
chastisement — "  His  song  shall  be  with  me."^ 
"  O  send  out  Thy  light  and  Thy  truth,  that  they 
may  lead  me  :  let  them  bring  me  unto  Thy  holy 
hill,  and  to  Thy  tabernacle.     Then  will  I  go  unto 

1  Ps.  ix.  1,  2 ;  xxviii.  7;  Ixxi.  22.  2  pg^  xlii,  8. 


XV.J  PRAISE.  291 

the  altar  of  God,  unto  God  my  exceeding  joy:  yea, 
upon  the  harp  will  I  praise  Thee,  O  God,  my 
God.'"  What  is  this  but  the  spirit  of  heavenly 
bliss  ?  What  is  this  light  but  the  uncreated 
Brightness  ;  this  truth,  but  the  eternal  Wisdom  ? 
What  is  this  holy  hill,  this  sanctuary,  and  this 
altar,  but  the  presence  of  God,  already  seen  by 
faith — the  object  of  all  praise,  the  fountain  of  all 
joy  ?  This  is  heaven  itself  in  the  soul  of  God's 
servants,  who  shall  one  day  reign  among  His  saints. 
Here  in  this  life  for  awhile  prayer  is  our  chief 
work  :  yet  praise  is  mingled  with  it,  as  a  promise 
and  an  earnest  of  blessedness  to  come.  Our  wor- 
ship, like  ourselves,  is  encompassed  with  infirmity. 
And  our  necessities  draw  us  about  Him,  as  the 
lame,  blind,  dumb,  and  maimed,  who  came  that 
they  might  be  healed.  Blessed  are  they  who  rise 
from  the  life  of  prayer  into  the  spirit  of  praise, 
and  learn  thnt  prayer  is  but  the  earthliest  form 
of  worship.  They  are  passing  on  into  that  state 
where  praise  begins  to  fill  all  spirits  with  the 
fruition  of  endless  joy.  They  who  are  waiting  in 
the  outer  courts  of  the  Eternal  Bresence,  while  our 
great  High  Briest  is  witliin  the  veil,  cease  not  to 
pray  ;  but  their  cliiefcst  homage  is  the  sacrifice 
of  praise. 

Jii    the    perfect    bliss    of  Heaven   prayer  shall 
1  Ps.  xliii.  3,  4. 


^92  PRAISE.  [Serm.  XV. 

rest  for  ever.  What  room  shall  there  he  for 
prayer,  when  there  is  no  more  sin  ?  And  what 
rest  from  praise,  when  all  eyes  shall  see  *'  the 
King  in  His  beauty  ?"  In  that  Home  of  Saints, 
*'  they  rest  not  day  and  night,  saying.  Holy,  holy, 
holy.  Lord  God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and 
is  to  come.  .  .  .  And  fall  down  before  Him  that  sat 
on  the  throne,  and  worship  Him  that  liveth  for 
ever  and  ever,  and  cast  their  crowns  before  Him, 
saying.  Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive  glory 
and  honour  and  power :  for  Thou  hast  created  all 
things,  and  for  Thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were 
created."^ 

1  Rev.  iv.  8,  10,  n. 


SEKMON  XVI. 


THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY. 


Job  X.  2. 
"  Shew  me  wherefore  Thou  contendest  with  me." 

God  has  declared  so  plainly,  that  He  rebukes  and 
chastens  all  whom  lie  loves,  that  we  can  hardly 
dare  desire  to  be  free  from  chastisement.  Much  as 
we  shrink  from  the  thought  of  God's  heavy  hand 
coming  down  upon  our  weakness,  of  the  sharpness 
of  bodily  pain,  and  of  the  an<*'uish  of  affliction,  vet 
we  must  still  more  shrink  from  sucli  words  as,  "  If 
ye  be  without  chastisement,  whereof  all  are  par- 
takers, then  are  ye  bastards,  and  not  sons  :  for  wliat 
son  is  h(;  whom  the  father  chastencth  not  ?"  ]>et- 
tcr  any  thing  than  this.  God  is  so  divinely  gentle 
in  His  visitations,  that  if  a  light  stroke,  even  the 
shadow  of  His  hand,  will  suffices  for  our  sanctifica- 
tion,  H(5  will  send  no  more.  Happy  and  blessed 
are  they  whose  conscience  is  so  sensitive  mid  ten- 
der, that  a  slight  sorrow,  or  a  soft  smiting  of  His 


294  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

rod,  is  enough  to  waken  them  into  an  eager  and 
fervent  desire  of  perfecting  their  conversion.  To 
be  easily  awakened,  and  to  open  all  the  ear  of  the 
soul  upon  a  fainter  call  of  His  voice,  is  a  great  sign 
of  a  state  of  grace.  It  is  not,  however,  enough  that 
it  be  a  prompt,  unless  it  be  persevering  attention. 
"  When  He  slew  them,  they  sought  Him,  and  turned 
them  early  and  inquired  after  God."^  *'  But  within 
a  while  they  forgot  His  works,  and  would  not  abide 
His  counsel."" 

When,  therefore,  we  are  in  any  way  smitten  of 
God,  the  first  thing  we  ought  to  ask  is,  *'  Shew 
me  wherefore  Thou  contendest  with  me."  Some 
reason  there  certainly  is  :  some  special,  and,  by 
His  light,  some  discoverable  cause. 

Let  us  take  one  or  two  of  the  commonest  causes 
of  God's  chastisement. 

1.  The  first  is  clearly  an  unconverted  life.  By 
unconverted,  I  do  not  mean  the  life  of  those,  if 
such  there  be,  who  have  never  received  the  grace 
of  God ;  for  in  them  it  would  be  no  special  and 
personal  sin,  as  it  is  in  us,  not  to  turn  to  God,  be- 
cause, without  His  grace,  it  would  be  for  them 
impossible.  But  who  are  they  among  baptized 
Christians  ?  I  speak,  therefore,  of  those  to  whom 
an  unconverted  life  is  a  special  state  of  sin,  be- 
cause they  have  received  God's  grace,  because 
1  Ps.  Ixxviii.  34.  2  ps_  cvi.  13. 


XVI.]  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  295 

they  are  regenerate.  This  is  the  condition  of  great 
multitudes  in  the  visible  Church.  They  have  re- 
ceived that  thing  "  which  by  nature  they  could  not 
have."  They  have  in  them  the  gifts  and  power  of 
a  new  life,  of  a  life  which  should  be  always  turning 
more  and  more  fully  and  intimately  to  God,  until 
it  be  altogether  filled  with  the  Divine  Presence. 
But  they  hold  these  gifts  in  unrighteousness,  and 
bring  this  spiritual  power  into  the  bondage  of  an 
evil  or  worldly  will.  Even  in  childhood,  the  seven 
deadly  sins  often  begin  to  wax  strong,  and  to  grieve 
the  Spirit  of  our  new  birth.  Then  we  proceed  to 
positive  breaches  of  God's  law  and  of  our  three 
baptismal  vows  ;  the  mind  of  the  flesh  outgrows 
the  spirit,  and  gains  an  habitual  mastery  in  the 
soul.  In  this  way  a  deceitful  childhood  grows 
up  into  a  rebellious  boyhood,  and  a  stained  and 
wilful  youth,  until  the  force  of  reason,  and  a  few 
remaining  fears,  make  a  sinner  in  his  manhood  to 
])ut  on  a  seemly  disguise  over  an  uncleansed  heart. 
And  many  there  are  who  thus  become  in  fact, 
though  not  by  intention,  hypocrites.  Or  to  take  a 
fairer  case.  It  often  happens  that  men  grow  up 
without  great  and  actual  falls,  and  yet  without  any 
real  knowledge  of  God  or  of  themselves.  The  un- 
seen world  for  tbeui  does  not  exist.  All  (|ualities 
purely  spiritual,  and  all  realities  of  a  liol\  life,  an* 
to  them   imperceptible.      Tliey  have   no   sense    lor 


296  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

them  ;  no  eye,  no  ear,  no  spiritual  capacity,  by 
way  of  imagination  or  of  sympathy.  Such  people 
are  often  among  the  most  blameless  of  ordinary 
Christians.  They  are  upright,  amiable,  tender- 
hearted, full  of  fond  affections  ;  within  the  instincts 
of  nature  and  of  home,  loving  and  beloved  :  but  to- 
wards God  they  have  little  sorrow,  little  zeal,  little 
love— no  fire  of  devout  worship.  Such  people  are 
really  unconverted.  They  are  not  yet  turned  to 
God.  The  world  hangs  between  them  and  the 
True  Light,  and  they  are  dark  in  the  whole  disk 
of  their  spiritual  being.  We  might  take  many 
more  cases ;  but  as  they  would  be,  for  the  most 
part,  shades  of  these  two  kinds,  what  has  been 
said  will  suffice.  Now  all  of  these  have  one  thing 
in  common.  They  are  not  conscious  that  God 
has  a  special  quarrel  against  them.  It  is  a  part 
of  an  unconverted  state  to  mask  itself.  It  draws 
an  insensibility  over  the  conscience  and  the  heart. 
"  Ephraim  hath  grey  hairs,  and  he  knoweth  it  not." 
This,  then,  is  one  question  to  be  asked  when  God 
afflicts  us  :  "  '  Shew  me  wherefore.'  Is  it  that 
I  am  walking  after  the  flesh,  or  after  the  world  ? 
Is  the  grace  of  my  regeneration  supreme  in  my 
soul?  or  have  I  served  myself,  and  crossed  the 
Divine  intention  of  my  baptism  ?  What  was  my 
childhood,  boyhood,  youth  ?  What  am  I  now  ? 
What    is  my    chief   end    in    life,   the  current    of 


XVI.]         THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  ^97 

my  desires,  the  habitual  inclination  of  my  will  ? 
What  is  the  world  unseen  to  me  ?  what  is  my 
heart  before  God,  and  what  is  God  to  my  soul  ? 
Am  I  living  for  Him,  moving  towards  Him,  pass- 
ing out  of  myself  into  Him  ?"  If  not,  this  is  the 
quarrel  God  has  against  you  ;  and  He  will  not 
leave  off  to  smite  until  either  you  come  to  yourself, 
and  confess  the  stroke  to  be  just  and  merciful,  or 
He  be  weary,  and  give  over  to  chastise :  which 
God  forbid. 

2.  Again,  another  cause  is  some  sin  visible  to 
Him  in  those  who  are  converted.  It  may  be  some 
one  of  our  original  stock  of  sins  not  yet  morti- 
fied ;  or  some  new  sin  into  which  we  have  recently 
fallen  ;  or  some  relaxation  of  our  spiritual  life,  out 
of  which  has  arisen,  perhaps,  one  dangerous  temp- 
tation, such  as  lukewarmness,  selfishness,  or  vain- 
glory. There  is  hardly  any  thing  more  alarming 
than  the  thought  that  Satan  appears  to  withhold 
his  other  temptations  from  those  who  arc  surely 
entangled  in  any  one  sin.  He  will  let  them  go  on 
and  even  prosper  in  all  the  circle  of  their  religious 
life,  so  long  as  he  can  keep  his  hold  by  one  such 
sin  as  pride,  envy,  or  sloth.  To  l)e  sheltered  from 
temptation  by  tin;  shadow  and  shield  of  God's 
keeping,  is,  of  course,  an  unspeakable  mercy;  but 
freedom  from  trials  is  so  often  a  source  of  s|»i- 
ritual   n.'laxation,    and   therefore   of  s})iritual    dan- 


298  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

ger,  that  they  who  suffer  from  them  are  specially 
called  blessed.  *'  Blessed  is  the  man  that  endureth 
temptation." 

Now  it  is  certain  that  in  the  course  of  a  reli- 
gious life  sins  gain  an  entrance  with  inconceiv- 
able subtilty.  Just  as  we  contract  slight  peculi- 
arities of  manner,  tone,  or  gait,  without  knowing 
it,  either  in  the  course  of  acquisition  or  after  it 
is  acquired,  so  it  often  happens  in  a  life  of  reli- 
gion. A  person  who  before  his  repentance  w^as 
proud,  will,  after  he  has  become  religious,  often 
insensibly  grow  to  be  self-confiding,  or  self-com- 
placent ;  soft  people  become  vain  or  unreal ;  self- 
ish people  become  isolated  and  unsympathising. 
The  sap  of  the  old  stock  rises  into  the  graft,  and 
lowers  the  quality  of  the  fruit.  Most  of  our  reli- 
gious difficulties  are  old  faults  with  new  faces, 
working  now  upon  the  desires,  relations,  and  ob- 
jects of  faith,  as  before  upon  those  of  the  world. 

Or  again  :  through  infirmity  we  may  fall  into 
faults  entirely  new,  from  which,  in  times  of  less 
religion,  we  were  wholly  free.  For  instance :  some- 
times those  who  before  they  were  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  their  personal  danger  were  easy  and  in- 
discriminate, become  almost  schismatical  in  their 
abandonment  of  old  and  even  religious  friends : 
others  who  w^ere  formerly  humble  become  opinion- 
ated and  contentious,  thinking  it  a  duty  to  testify, 


XVI.]  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  299 

as  they  say  ;  that  is,  to  thrust  their  own  change 
upon  the  consciousness  and  senses  of  all  about 
them.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  soon  pride  and  anger 
may  spring  up  in  such  cases. 

But  a  greater  danfj^er  than  these  to  evcrv  one 
who  is  turned  to  a  life  of  religion,  is  the  disposition 
to  relax,  which  may  steal  unawares  upon  the  most 
watchful.  The  lightest  rules,  if  they  be  perpetual, 
become  severe ;  and  in  that  measure  our  indulgent 
natures  shrink  from  them  ;  much  more  from  the 
practice  of  repentance  and  the  habits  of  devotion, 
until  they  have  become  the  food  and  delight  of 
the  soul.  Very  few  go  through  a  life  of  penitence 
and  of  devotion  without  many  ebbs  and  floods, 
many  rises  and  falls  of  zeal  and  sorrow.  To  per- 
severe without  drawing  back,  to  go  from  strength 
to  strength,  without  intervals  of  darkness  and 
coldness,  is  a  rare  grace,  and  rarely  seen.  Let 
any  one  look  back  over  his  past  life,  and  measure 
if  it  be  only  the  quantity  of  time  spent,  morning 
and  night,  in  prayer  during  seasons  of  anxiety  and 
i'ear  j  or  during  the  first  days  of  repentance,  sor- 
row, or  sickness  —  I  say  the  qitantilij  of  time;  ibr 
the  (itialilij  and  intensity  of  desire  and  contrition 
are  not  easily  measured  —  mikI  lie  will  feel  how 
often  Mild  how  great  has  been  his  ihmmI  of  God's 
merciful  visitations  to  <'oiileiid  with  liiin  lor  I  lie 
upholding  and  saving  of  iiis  soul. 


300  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

This,  then,  is  anothei'  question  to  urge  home 
upon  ourselves.  What  does  God  sec  in  me  not 
vet  rooted  out  ?  what  new  danofers  have  I  added 
to  my  original  stock  of  evil  ?  into  what  have  I 
fallen  unawares  ?  Surely  He  sees  something  in 
me  that  I  see  not  j  something  that  hinders  my  re- 
pentance, prayers,  and  love.  Is  it  in  the  heart,  or 
the  imagination,  or  the  will  ?  is  it  in  the  tongue, 
or  in  the  "  lust  of  the  eyes  and  the  pride  of  life  ?" 
Is  it  towards  Him,  or  towards  others,  or  towards 
myself?  My  own  discernment  is  not  enough,  I 
cannot  discover  it.  Nothing  but  a  light  from 
Thee  will  reveal  it.  "  Shew  me  wherefore  Thou 
contendest  with  me." 

3.  And  still  further  :  even  on  those  who  are 
truly  turned  to  His  service,  and  in  whom,  it  may  be, 
there  are  no  special  sins,  such  as  I  last  spoke  of, 
beyond  the  measure  of  our  fallen  state.  His  rod  at 
times  comes  down  :  and  for  great  purposes  of  love. 
There  is  one  sure  and  sufficient  cause  inviting  the 
chastisements  of  mercy  ;  I  mean,  the  dull  sense  we, 
most  of  us,  have  of  our  original  and  actual  sinful- 
ness. Perhaps  there  is  nothing  more  awful  and 
wonderful  to  those  who  truly  repent,  and  are  draw- 
ing closer  and  closer  into  the  folds  of  God's  pre- 
sence, than  the  changes  which  pass  over  the  aspect 
of  their  life  and  state.  Ever  since  they  were 
avvakened,  sinners  they  have  known  themselves  to 


XVI.]  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  301 

be.     But  how  great  they  have  never  known.    They 
go  on,   like  the    prophet   in   the  secret  places  of 
Jerusalem,  from  chamber  to  chamber,   seeing  al- 
ways "  greater  things  than  these."     Their  whole 
life  seems  to  be  a  region  full  of  places  dark  and 
deep.     At  first  they  saw  but  the  horizon  and  a 
few  gloomy  hollows ;  here  and  there,  a  black  form 
and  a  thick  shadow  ;   but,  for  the  most  part,  all 
fair  and  clear.     Year  by  year,   new  shapes  arise, 
new  shadows   fall ;    the   lights   grow  clearer,   but 
make  the  scene  less  fair.     Holy  seasons  and  holy 
Sacraments   cast   upon    us   a  fresh   and  searching 
brightness.     Our  life,  seen  before  the  altar,  is  a 
new  revelation   of  the  past.     So,  if  possible,  still 
more  in  sorrow  and  in  sickness,  when  the  spiritual 
sense  is  quickened    to   a  sensitiveness   which   the 
world  calls  morbid,  because  it  torments  it  "  before 
the  time."     At  first,  we  measure  our  sins  by  quan- 
tity, by  number,   and  by  greatness.     We    have    a 
sort  of  bead-roll,  on  which  we  set  down  the  cata- 
logue of  greater  acts  ;   of  things  still  visible  above 
the  flood   of  forgetfulncss  wliich   broods   upon  the 
past.     The    patli    and    series    of  our    life    lias    its 
marking-points   of  sin    and   shame  ;    and   we   soon 
learn    to    look    back     upon     llicni    as    llirou;,Hi    an 
avenue  closing  as  it  recedes,    and   hiding  its   far- 
thest objects.     This  is,  perhaps,  the  first  view  we 
have  of  sin  —  a  view  of  its  qnantity,   as  an  object 


30Q  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

external  to   the  spiritual  conscience,  seen  rather 
by  the  memory  than  by  the  soul. 

But,  all  our  life  long,  so  far  as  we  are  walking 
in  the  light  of  God's  presence,  and  especially  in 
times  of  chastisement  and  warning,  we  are  learning 
to  measure  our  sins  by  another  and  a  truer  rule ; 
I  mean,  by  their  quality.  What  can  be  more  clear 
than  that  the  greatest  breach  of  God's  law  may  be 
almost  wholly  free  from  malice,  and  the  least  sin 
of  the  heart  contain  an  inconceivable  malignity? 
The  true  measure  of  sin  is'  the  intensity  of  its  con- 
scious rebellion  against  God.  And  this  we  learn  in 
proportion  as  we  throw  off  the  deadening  power  of 
sin  which  weighs  upon  us.  It  is  a  change  in  its, 
which  is  needed  to  reveal  us  to  ourselves.  What  we 
were  and  what  we  are  is  as  objectively  real  as  the 
firmament  of  heaven.  But  the  blind  cannot  behold 
it,  and  dim  eyes  see  but  little  of  it.  Whenever, 
then,  any  trial  comes  upon  us,  we  may  with  great 
safety  assure  ourselves,  that  one  reason  why  God 
is  contending?  with  us  is,  because  we  do  not  enouoh 
perceive  the  malignant  quality  of  sin.  And  in  so 
speaking,  I  do  not  mean  only  of  the  greater  and 
grosser  sins,  far  from  it ;  but  of  such  sins  as  are 
purely  spiritual — self-love,  self- worship,  envy,  spi- 
ritual sloth,  ingratitude,  want  of  love  and  of  joy  in 
God.  If  we  would  but  slowly  say  to  ourselves,  "  I 
was  made  to  love  God,  and  to  be  happy  in  Him  j" 


XVI.]         THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.         303 

and  then  remember  not  our  rebellions,  but  the 
great  gulf  of  coldness  and  distance  which  stands 
open  between  Him  and  us  ;  we  should  feel  that  to 
love  God  is  itself  life  everlasting — not  to  love  God 
is  itself  eternal  death.  It  may  be  that  there  are 
many  more  lessons  He  would  have  us  learn  in  every 
visitation  ;  but  certainly  this  is  one.  So  long  as 
we  are  happy  and  in  health,  full  of  active  thoughts, 
with  busy  hands,  serving  and  admonishing  others, 
we  live  abroad,  unconscious,  and  forget  ourselves. 
God  loves  us  too  well  to  let  this  go  on  for  ever. 
At  any  cost,  at  any  pain  of  heart  or  flesh,  He  will 
contend  with  us  ;  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Why  wilt 
thou  die?  What  shall  it  profit  thee  to  gain  the 
whole  world  for  thyself,  or  even  for  Me,  and  to 
lose  tliine  own  soul;  after  preaching  the  Gospel 
to  others,  thyself  to  be  a  castaway  ?"  Every  body 
knows  that  a  busy  life  in  the  world,  in  commerce, 
or  politics,  or  society,  or  literature,  is  very  distrac  t- 
ing,  and  calls  off  our  gaze  from  ourselves.  But  we 
do  not  so  often  reflect  or  realise,  that  a  life  of  punc- 
tual religious  observance,  or  of  active  benevolence, 
or  even  a  lift;  of  pastoral  acts,  may  be  ciuiiiently 
beguiling  to  the  spiritual  ('(msciousncss.  It  is  so 
nearly  united  to  the  interior  liH.'  of  tlic  sjiiril,  ;ni(l 
may  yet  be  fulfilled  for  years  witli  such  a  perfect 
want  of  habitual  and  conscious  intention,  th;it  it  is 
most  difticult  to  discern  our  actual  state.     For  in- 


304  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Seiim. 

Stance,  thinking  and  speaking  are  acts  of  our  living 
consciousness  so  absolutely,  that  our  whole  energy 
and  soul  is  commonly  thrown  into  our  words  and 
thoughts  :  and  yet  we  both  speak  and  think  in 
sleep ;  nay,  we  speak  without  thinking,  and  we 
think,  even  waking,  without  presence  of  mind.  We 
may  think,  and  yet  be  unconscious  ;  or,  as  we  say, 
with  a  powerful  and  true  figure,  we  are  absent.  So 
it  is,  as  we  all  know%  in  religion.  Who  has  not 
complained  of  absence  of  mind  in  reading  holy 
Scripture,  in  prayer,  in  church,  and  even  at  the 
holy  Sacrament?  Every  one  has  felt  this  at  some 
time  ;  and  what  is  true,  at  times,  with  all,  with 
some  grows  to  be  their  habitual  state.  Their  eyes 
rest  upon  the  book,  or  upon  the  altar ;  they  kneel 
for  half  an  hour  in  their  closets  ;  they  are  busy  in 
almsgiving ;  devout  in  the  imagination  and  in  the 
intellect ;  but  they  are  absent  in  all  their  spiritual 
life.  This  is  the  secret  reason  of  many  falls,  de- 
clensions, fruitless  endeavours,  obstinate  tempta- 
tions, and  efforts  to  advance  long  made  in  vain. 

Who  does  not,  in  some  measure,  know  what 
this  means  ?  And  how  is  it  possible,  that  in  such  a 
condition  we  can  weigh  the  quality  of  our  spiritual 
state  ?  How  can  ^efeel  the  malignity  of  not  loving 
God  without  love  to  Him  ?  It  is  love  alone  that 
reveals  the  sinfulness  of  not  loving.  How  can  we 
measure  our  ingratitude,  without  a  spirit  of  praise  ? 


XVI.]         THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.         305 

or  our  indevotion,  without  delight  in  prayer  ?  How 
can  we  perceive  the  darkness  of  past  evils  in 
thought,  desire,  and  will,  but  by  a  will  and  a  heart 
in  which  the  pure  light  of  the  Spirit  is  shed  abroad  ? 
How  can  we  estimate  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of 
a  settled,  morose,  wilful  life  of  conscious  distance 
from  God,  without  a  present  perception  of  the  sin 
of  being,  even  for  a  moment,  estranged  from  Him, 
by  any  consent  of  our  own  ?  Granted  that,  by 
God's  exceeding  mercy  and  patience,  we  have  in 
some  measure  come  to  feel  all  this.  But  at  most 
how  little.  How  much  need  of  the  rod  to  waken 
us.  "  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust ;  quicken 
Thou  me  according  to  Thy  word."  What  is  the 
intensest  perception  we  have  of  our  sinfulness,  even 
in  times  of  sickness  and  sorrow,  to  that  which  we 
shall  have  in  the  day  of  judgment,  or  even  upon  our 
deathbed  ?  How  great,  then,  the  need  of  discipline, 
how  blessed  the  visitation,  how  loving  the  Kebuker! 

And  now,  perhaps,  it  may  be  asked,  "  What 
shall  T  do  when  God  visits  me  ?  How  shall  I 
find  out  what  is  the  cause  wherefore  He  is  con- 
tending with  me  ?" 

To  this  I  cnn  but  give  two  answers,  both  so 
plain  as  hardly  to  need  giving. 

1.  'i'lie  first  is,  Search  yourselves  and  see.  And 
with  a  view  to  this,  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  begin 
by   making,   even   in  writing,   in   as   few   words   as 

VOL.   III.  X 


306  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

possible,  or  by  signs  or  symbols  if  we  will,  a  review 
of  our  past  life ;  dividing  it  into  its  chief  sea- 
sons, such  as  childhood,  boyhood,  youth,  and  man- 
hood ;  distinguishing  also  any  periods  marked  by 
change  of  state  or  calling,  which,  as  they  bring  new 
duties,  bring  also  new  qualities  to  our  life,  and  new 
responsibilities  upon  our  conscience.  It  will  then 
be  well  to  note  under  each  period  all  the  sins  we 
can  remember,  especially  the  first  of  each  kind, 
fixing,  if  possible,  the  beginning,  the  first  opening 
of  each  bitter  spring  ;  then  to  trace  the  widening 
and  increase  of  each,  and  their  confluence  in  the 
broader  stream  of  our  after-life  ;  and  to  see  how 
it  all  connects  itself  with  our  present  character 
and  trials.  It  will  be  right  to  remember  any  per- 
sons, in  every  age,  who  have  been  implicated  with 
us,  or  by  us,  in  our  past  history.  The  tale  of  our 
life  will  hardly  be  more  truly  written  than  when 
our  hand  is  under  God's  hand.  A  time  of  trial, 
therefore,  is  specially  meet — I  may  say  is  sent — for 
a  time  of  self-judgment.  If  we  throw  it  away  on 
other  things,  we  shall  find  that  we  have  lost  what 
nothing,  it  may  be,  but  another  chastisement  will 
restore. 

But  when  we  have  done  this,  there  still  re- 
mains the  greater  scrutiny.  Thus  far  we  have 
only  laid  up  matter  for  our  examination — answers 
for  the  questions  of  God.     The  next  thing  is,  to 


XVI.]        THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.         307 

try  our  life  as  before  the  throne  of  Christ,  and 
Avith  the  accuser  at  our  right  hand ;  to  fix  our 
eyes,  as  if  we  were  out  of  ourselves,  upon  our- 
selves— kneeling  before  the  Judge,  bound  as  guilty, 
with  our  hands  at  our  back.  And  the  rules  by 
which  to  try  ourselves  are  four :  the  seven  deadly 
sins,  the  commandments  of  God,  the  three  vows 
of  our  baptism,  and  the  two  precepts  of  the  Gos- 
pel. If  we  deal  truly  with  ourselves,  we  shall  find 
that  our  whole  life  will  put  on  a  new  appearance. 
AVhat  we  once  thought  to  be  a  full  account,  we 
shall  find  to  be  no  more  than  an  outline.  Every 
stage  of  it  will  be  seen  to  be  fuller  of  transgression 
than  the  whole  appeared  before ;  every  branch  of 
our  character  to  run  out  into  endless  fibres  of  self ; 
what  seemed  single  events,  to  unite  in  a  chain  of 
habits  ;  even  single  acts,  to  contain  a  world  of  evil. 
The  enlargement  of  our  sin  seems  preternatural. 
It  is  seen  to  be  manifold,  and  yet  indivisible ; 
untraceably  complicated,  and  yet  absolutely  one  ; 
identified  with  the  very  being  of  our  soul,  with 
the  very  soul  of  our  life.  Only,  be  not  afrnid 
when  you  see  these  things.  Sec  them  one  day 
we  must:  one  day,  wlicu  to  see  them  m;iy  be  too 
lat(!,  in  the  liglit  of  IIm;  Son  of  ni;iJi  and  of  His 
holy  angels  ;  when  ;ill  tilings  now  forgotten  sliall 
awake,  like  tli(i  piercing  consciousness  of  drown- 
ing men  ;    and  all  our  whole  life,  with  every  deed, 


308  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Serm. 

word,  and  thought  of  heart,  shall  be  crowded 
into  one  intense  and  all  but  infinite  consciousness 
of  guilt.  O  fearful  day,  even  though  it  were  but 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  !  How  sweet,  how  sooth- 
ing, how  sadly  blessed,  is  a  whole  life  of  penance, 
rather  than  one  moment  of  eternal  shame  !  Let 
us,  then,  take  heart,  and  search  to  the  very  quick  ; 
trying  ourselves  by  the  letter  of  God's  law ;  read- 
ing it  in  all  its  spiritual  perfection.  And  what 
we  learn  let  us  never  aoain  foroet  :  let  us  never 
again  permit  the  veil  to  •  fall  between  us  and  the 
past ;  nor  suffer  any  the  least  part  of  it  to  with- 
draw into  concealment.  Through  life  let  us  go 
on,  adding  to  this  awful  secret  of  self-knowledge ; 
reviewing,  at  fixed  times  and  often,  the  record  of 
the  past,  as  we  saw  it  in  the  day  of  visitation. 

2.  The  other  rule  is,  if  possible,  plainer  than 
the  last.  Pray  God  to  shew  you  your  very  self. 
Without  the  efi^usion  of  His  light,  this  is  impos- 
sible. We  are  dark  to  ourselves,  and  we  walk  in 
darkness.  Our  eyes  are  outward  :  what  is  within 
is,  as  it  were,  behind  their  gaze.  There  is,  by 
nature,  a  spirit  of  slumber  upon  the  soul,  and  it 
cannot  wake  itself.  Like  the  breath  of  life,  it 
must  come  from  God  into  our  dust ;  and  such  a 
breath  is  the  free  grace  of  God  in  our  regenera- 
tion. There  is  nothing  that  more  shews  the  love 
of  God  in  our  election  than  the  gift  of  His  pre- 


XVI.]         THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.         309 

venting  grace.  Even  after  our  new  birth,  we  are 
still,  for  the  most  part,  in  a  slumber ;  especially  such 
as  either  fall  into  sin,  or  live  without  active  habits 
of  devotion.  We  are  as  unconscious  of  the  great 
realities  of  God's  kingdom  and  our  own  sinfulness, 
as  if  we  were  asleep ;  and  sleeping  men  cannot 
wake  themselves.  What  but  God  drew  us  out 
of  this  insensibility  ?  What  first  made  our  hearts 
to  thrill  and  tremble,  to  fear  and  yearn,  to  feel 
about,  groping  at  noon  as  in  darkness  ?  What 
but  the  Spirit  of  God  ?  So  it  has  been  to  this 
day.  Let  us,  then,  pray  Him  to  shew  us  to  our- 
selves, especially  when  lie  is  contending  with  us 
in  sorrow,  sickness,  crosses,  or  disappointments. 
All  these  arc  tokens  that  He  is  come  to  carry 
on  His  work  of  love ;  that  He  has  not  left  us, 
nor  given  us  over :  that  there  is  still  "  hope  in 
the  end:"  though  now  it  be  neither  dark  nor 
light,  yet  "  in  the  evening  time  it  shall  be  light." 
Let  us,  then,  pray  for  the  illumination  of  His 
Spirit  ;  not  fearing  to  sec  ourselves  as  we  are, 
thouLdi  thev  who  have  asked  and  obtained  this 
])rnver  have  prayed  in  haste,  that  they  may  be 
liid  IVoiii  tliemselvcs  again.  When  we  pray  lor 
this  sight  of  fear,  let  us  also  pray  that  He  will, 
at  the  same  time,  reveal  unto  us  tlic  Lamb  of 
God,  lest  we  be  overwhelmed.  It  is  a  l)l(!s.se(l 
thought,   that   if  we  sincerely  desire  to  know  our- 


310  THE  GREAT  CONTROVERSY.  [Seum.  XVI. 

selves,  we  may  leave  all  to  Him.  He  will  reveal  it 
in  such  measures  and  ways  as  for  us  is  best.  All 
our  life  through,  we  shall  be  seeing  some  reality 
of  our  spiritual  state  more  clearly,  more  broadly, 
more  deeply ;  and  as  we  see  the  worst  of  our- 
selves, we  shall  see  most  of  His  love.  These 
things  go  together,  and  revealing,  temper  each 
other  to  our  infirmity  ;  so  that  all  through  life, 
as  we  draw  nearer  to  Him,  we  shall  more  abase 
ourselves.  Ever  more  and  more  shall  we  behold 
this  twofold  vision  of  our'  shame  and  of  His  sanc- 
titv,  till  we  shall  be  without  sin  before  the 
throne,  and  in  His  light  see  ourselves  without 
spot  or  blemish  in  the  kingdom  of  God  and  of 
the  Lamb. 


SEEMON  XVII. 


PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  A  STATE  OF  LIFE. 


Isaiah  xxxviii.  1. 

"  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Set  thine  house  in  order :  for  thou  slialt 
die,  and  not  live." 

Perhaps  the  most  awful  moment  of  our  lives  is 
when  we  first  feel  in  danger  of  death.  All  our 
past  life  then  seems  to  be  a  cloud  of  words  and 
shadows  ;  one  less  real  tlian  another,  moving  and 
floating  round  about  us,  altogether  external  to  tlie 
realities  of  the  soul.  Not  only  childhood  and 
youth,  ha])pincss  and  sorrow,  eager  hopes  and  dis- 
turbing fears,  but  even  our  communion  with  God, 
our  faith  in  things  unseen,  our  self-knowledge,  and 
our  repentance,  seem  alike  to  be  but  visions  of  the 
memory.  All  has  become;  stern,  hard,  and  a|)|)al- 
ling.  Tlu!  thought  of  passing  out  of  this  kindly  and 
familiar  state,  from  loving  faces,  partial  fVicnds, 
soothing  offices  of  religion,  hopeful   p(;rsuasions  of 


312  rREr.VRATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

our  own  peace  at  last,  to  go  into  the  world  beyond 
the  grave,  among  souls  departed,  and  the  spirits  who 
stand  before  the  presence  of  our  Judge  ;  all  things 
now  wound  up,  all  sins  weighed  and  doomed  : — this 
is  full  of  unutterable  fear.  Such  is  the  burst  of 
consciousness  which  breaks  upon  the  soul,  when 
any  great  event  in  life  says  to  us,  "  Set  thine  house 
in  order."  It  is  as  if  it  were  the  beginning  of  a 
new  existence  ;  as  if  we  had  passed  under  a  colder 
sky,  and  into  a  world  where  every  object  has  a 
sharpness  of  outline  almost  too  severe  for  sight  to 
bear.  Such  was  the  effect  of  the  prophet's  words 
upon  Hezekiah.  Even  he,  a  saint  of  God,  was 
overwhelmed.  He  -'turned  his  face  toward  the 
wall,"  and  "  wept  sore,"  He  said,  "  He  will  cut 
me  off  with  pining  sickness  :  from  day  even  to  night 
wilt  Thou  make  an  end  of  me.  I  reckoned  till 
morning,  that,  as  a  lion,  so  wall  He  break  all  my 
bones  :  from  day  even  to  night  wilt  Thou  make  an 
end  of  me.  Like  a  crane  or  a  swallow,  so  did  I 
chatter  :  I  did  mourn  as  a  dove  :  mine  eyes  fail 
with  looking  upward  :  O  Lord,  I  am  oppressed; 
undertake  for  me.  What  shall  I  say  ?  He  hath 
spoken  unto  me."^ 

If  this  was  the  effect  upon  so  great  a  servant  of 
God,  Avhat  must  be  the  first  breaking  and  the  first 
realisation  of  approaching  death  to  us  ?     The  firs* 

^  Isaiah  xxxviii.  2,  3,  12-15. 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  313 

feeling  which  would  overwhelm  any  of  us  would  be 
fear :  fear,  that  is,  of  the  sight  of  God,  and  of  the 
just  judgment  upon  our  sins.  It  is,  indeed,  true, 
that  to  believe  in  God's  mercy  through  Christ  is  a 
chief  act  of  faith  ;  and  that  to  refuse  to  trust  in 
Him  is  a  sign  either  of  consent  in  a  temptation  to 
despair,  or  want  of  the  virtue  of  faith.  It  is,  more- 
over, a  dishonour  to  the  perfect  tenderness  of  our 
Lord,  not  to  go  to  Him  with  a  full  trust  in  His 
supernatural  mercy.  All  this  is  most  true  ;  and 
yet  they  who  have  realised  the  thought  of  death 
as  probable  or  near,  tell  us,  that  with  this  perfect 
conviction  of  faith,  there  is  also  a  deep  emotion 
of  fear,  which  arises  out  of  a  consciousness  of 
what  we  have  been,  and  what  we  still  are,  in 
the  sight  of  Ilim  whose  "eyes  are  as  a  flame  of 
fire."  And  although  it  is  also  true,  that  "  perfect 
love  casteth  out  fear,"  and  that  it  is  the  very  oflicc 
of  faith  to  extinguish  this  feeling  of  alarm  which 
is  akin  to  mistrust ;  yet,  after  all,  it  is  absolutely 
curtain  that  such  a  feeling  docs  exist,  paradoxi- 
cally, in  the  soul  v,\\m  oi"  men  of  great  faith  and 
love.  With  all  their  ])erception  ol"  the  Divine 
mercy  in  Christ,  they  still  feel  within,  tlie  con- 
sciousness of  great  sins  and  insuflicient  repentance. 
Who  can  judicially  pronounce  his  own  reiH'ntance 
sufficient?  and  who  without  a  sufficient  n'jx'ntance 
can  be  free  from  fear  of  dying  ?     \Ve   talk  very 


314  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

boldly  of  death,  and  of  calm  hopes,  and  willingness 
to  depart,  and  the  like  ;  but  when  the  time  really 
comes,  we  shall  find  it  something  different  from 
our  sincere  but  shallow  imaginations.  Next  to 
sin,  death  is  the  most  terrible  of  all  realities ;  the 
very  instincts  of  nature  shudder  at  it ;  the  soul  of 
all  men,  except  great  saints,  must  shrink  from 
it.  And  even  they,  though  filled  with  the  love 
of  God,  are  fullest  of  the  consciousness  of  our 
fallen  state  at  that  last  and  fearful  hour. 

Let  us,  then,  see  what  we  ought  to  do  when 
God  warns  us. 

I  will  not  say  repent ;  because,  alas  for  us  at 
such  a  time,  if  we  have  not  repented  long  ago.  We 
are  now  speaking  not  of  sinners,  or  careless  people, 
but  of  those  who  in  the  main  serve  God,  and  have 
been  long  before  in  the  path  of  eternal  life.  What 
they  have  to  do  is,  to  try  their  repentance,  to  see 
whether  it  be  real  and  true.  But  this  is  hardly 
to  be  done  by  any  direct  measurement  of  the  quan- 
tity or  vividness  of  our  sorrow  for  sin.  We  have 
no  gauge  or  balance  for  such  experiments.  We 
have  to  judge,  not  so  much  of  past  feelings  as  of 
our  present  condition.  The  true  test  of  our  re- 
pentance, and  the  exposition  of  its  real  character, 
is  our  moral  habit  before  God  at  the  time  when 
His  warning  overtakes  us.  Let  usj  therefore,  see 
how  we  may  try  this  state. 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  315 

1.  First,  we  must  ask  ourselves  this  question: 
Is  there   any  one  sin,  great  or  small,  of  the  flesh 
or  of  the  spirit,  which  we  willingly  and  knowingly 
commit  ?     This  is,  in  fact,  the  crisis  of  our  whole 
spiritual  life.     We  might  say,  that  all  Christians 
may  be  simply  divided  into  those  who  do,  and  those 
who  do  not,  with  will  and  knowledge,  allow  them- 
selves in  any,  even  a  single  sin.     To  say  that  we  do 
not  so  allow  ourselves,  does  not  imply  any  very  high 
state  of  spiritual  advancement,  still  less  does  it  im- 
ply freedom  from  the  commission  of  all  sin.     There 
arc  sins  of  ignorance,  Aveakness,  strong  temptations, 
sudden  assault,  which  go  to  make  up  a  heavy  ac- 
count day  by  day,  even  against  those  who  neither 
knowingly  nor  w^illingly  consent  to  them.     There- 
fore the  state  is  neither  so  high  as  to  discourage  us, 
nor  so  far  advanced  as  to  be  any  great  temptation 
to  self-complacency.     It  is,  indeed,  the  lowest  and 
first  step  in  a  converted  life.     For  what  conversion 
of  heart  can  there  be,  so  long  as  a  man  willingly 
commits  sin,  knowing  it  to  be  sin  ?     He  thereby 
plainly  declares  that  sin,  as  such,  is  not  hateful  to 
him.     By  consent  in  out;  sin,  Ik;   is  guilty  of  the 
whole  principle  of  n.'bcllioii,  of  llu;  whole   idea  of 
anarchy  in  God's    kingdom   and    in  his  own  soul. 
His   will  and  his  heart,  with  its  love  and   inclina- 
tion, are  still  under   the   power  and   attraction   of 
evil  ;   and  this  is  virtuallv  efpiivnlcnt  to  ;uiv  form 


316  rRErAllATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

or  measure  of  disobedience.  It  is  a  fealty  and  ser- 
vice to  the  kingdom  of  darkness.  In  truth,  both 
sin  and  holiness  have  a  perfect  unity  in  their  seve- 
ral principles  ;  and  they  are  mutually  irreconcilable 
and  expulsive  of  each  other.  A  holy  man  is  not 
a  man  who  never  sins,  but  who  never  sins  wil- 
lingly. And  a  sinner  is  not  a  man  who  never 
does  any  thing  good,  but  who  willingly  does  what 
he  knows  to  be  evil.  The  whole  difference  lies 
within  the  sphere  and  compass  of  the  will.  This 
is  the  meaning  of  St.  John's  words,  so  often  mis- 
taken :  "  Whosoever  is  born  of  God  doth  not  com- 
mit sin ;  for  his  seed  remaineth  in  him  :  and  he 
cannot  sin,  because  he  is  born  of  God."  St.  John 
does  not  intend  us  to  understand  that  the  reoene- 
rate  are  those  only  who  never  sin  :  for  then  there 
would  be  no  regenerate  in  this  world,  because 
"  There  is  no  soul  that  liveth  'and  sinneth  not." 
And  who  "  cannot  sin,"  if  even  St.  Paul  might  be 
a  castaway  ?  St.  John's  meaning  is  plainly  this, 
that  the  will  of  the  regenerate  is  so  bent  against 
sin,  that  he  does  not  sin  by  consent,  but,  if  so  be, 
by  ignorance,  surprise,  infirmity  ;  that  is,  his  will 
is  universally  holy.  And  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
St.  James,  speaking  of  the  unity  of  sin,  says, 
*'  Whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet 
offend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty  of  all ;"  because 
consent   to    any    sin,   as    such,   is   consent  to   the 


XVII]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  317 

whole  principle  of  sin.  In  this  sense,  then,  we 
must  question  ourselves.  Is  sin,  as  such,  in  its 
principle  hateful  to  us  ;  and  is  our  will  bent  uni- 
versally against  it  ?  Is  holiness,  in  its  principle, 
lovely  and  a  delight  to  us,  and  does  our  will,  in 
its  intentions  and  desires,  universally  embrace  it  ? 
Are  we  with  our  whole  soul  and  strenoth  on  God's 

o 

side  in  an  evil  world  ?  There  are  many  wavs  of 
putting  this  to  the  test.  The  sins  of  infirmity 
which  daily  beset  us,  are  they  grievous,  afflict- 
ing, and  humbling  ?  When  we  have  fallen,  as  by 
an  impatient  word,  a  peevish  tone,  a  selfish  de- 
sire, an  unguarded  eye,  or  a  fearless  thought,  do 
we  turn  and,  if  we  can,  make  amends  to  our  fellow- 
sinners,  and  in  all  make  our  instant  confession  to 
God  ?  Do  we  stand  in  fear  in  the  morning  lest 
we  should  be  overcome  ?  Do  we  grieve  at  night 
if  we  have  been  cast  down  ?  Do  we  find  our  in- 
firmities fewer,  or  less  oftcni  committed,  or  sooner 
corrected  than  before  ? 

This  is  the  first  scrutiny  we  must  })ass  upon 
ourselves ;  for  great  and  awful  is  the  mystery  of 
the  will.  Its  contents,  so  to  speak,  for  good  or  for 
ill,  are  infinite.  Virtually,  it  contains  our  whole 
state,  and  is  itself  our  whole  character  in  llic  sight 
of  God.  What  a  meeting  with  llim  would  tluit  ho. 
of  a  heart  which  still  consents  to  any  thing  against 
which  tlic  will  of  God  is  turncul  as  a  fianie  of  fire  I 


318  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATII  [Serm. 

"  Who  may  abide  the  day  of  His  coming  ?  and  who 
shall  stand  when  He  appeareth  ?  for  He  is  like  a 
refiner's  fire."^  What  wonder  we  fear  to  die,  so 
long  as  we  know  that  to  meet  God  is  to  meet  an 
Almighty  will  which  we  habitually  slight  ?  This, 
then,  is  the  first  point  in  which  to  try  ourselves  ; 
and  it  naturally  leads  us  on  to  another. 

2.  We  must  next  search  and  see  whether 
there  is  any  thing  in  w'hich  our  heart,  in  its  secret 
affections,  is  at  variance  with  the  mind  of  God ; 
for  if  so,  then  so  far  out  whole  being  is  at  va- 
riance with  His.  We  have  hitherto  been  speak- 
iufr  of  our  will  as  it  shews  itself  in  the  acts  of 
our  life.  Now  we  are  considering  it  as  it  exists, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  passively  in  the  heart.  It  is 
very  certain  that  even  in  those  who  fear  to  con- 
sent actively  in  any  sin,  there  may  still  exist  the 
inclinations  of  sin,  suspended  in  the  will,  and  held 
under  the  restraint  of  fear  rather  than  of  holy  af- 
fections. Such  people  often  really  desire  what  God 
forbids,  and  dislike  what  God  desires.  Though 
their  will  does  not  openly  cross  His  ■  will  in  act 
and  deed,  yet  it  reigns  in  them,  and  w^ithin  its 
own  sphere  is  in  conscious  opposition  to  the  Spirit 
of  God.  The  way  in  which  this  shews  itself  is 
by  the  affections  of  love  and  hate,  hope  and  fear, 
joy  and  sorrow,   which   are  feelings   of  the  mind. 

1  Mai.  iii.  2. 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  ^19 

Though  they  be  never  acted  upon,  yet  they  are  as 
real  as  a  thousand  acts.  We  may  love  what  God 
hates,  as  the  pride  of  life  ;  or  hate  what  God  loves, 
as  crosses  and  humiliations.  So  also  we  may  hope 
for  what  He  wills  that  we  should  never  enjoy,  as 
earthly  happiness  or  ease  in  life  ;  and  fear  what 
He  wills  we  should  endure,  as  bodily  pain,  unjust 
suspicions,  and  the  like.  Or  we  may  seek  our 
joys  where  He  would  have  us  bestow  no  care  ;  and 
sorrow  where  He  would  have  us  without  choice 
or  concern.  All  this  implies  ill-regulated  affec- 
tions ;  and  what  produces  so  much  consciousness 
of  moral  opposition  as  a  contrariety  of  desire  and 
love  ?  What  are  the  affections  He  blesses  and 
accepts  ?  Love,  holiness,  purity,  meekness,  humi- 
lity, and  self-denial,  as  they  exist  in  sanctified 
hearts ;  a  hatred  of  sin,  zealous  sorrow,  humi- 
liation, self-chastisement,  as  in  penitents.  Such 
Christians  are  truly  united  to  God  in  will ;  so  that 
nothing  comes  amiss  to  them,  nothing  is  a  contra- 
diction to  their  will.  Even  crosses  are  no  crosses 
to  them.  Sorrows,  sickness,  failures,  disappoint- 
ment, the  hardest  trials  of  the  world,  such  as  its 
false  witness  and  inexorable  enmitv, — all  these, 
as  they  come  by  God's  permissive  will,  so  tli(>v  are 
objects  of  the  positive  will  of  His  true  servants. 

But  what  is  the  case  with  most  of  us?     How 
many  are  happy  and  at  ease  in  their  possessions, 


3-20  PREPARATION   FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

full  of  innocent  but  active  thoughts,  with  plans 
and  aims  laid  up  for  many  years.  They  hold  fast 
to  friends  and  home  :  they  delight  in  the  happi- 
ness of  religion,  in  its  sunny  side,  in  the  beauty  of 
worship  and  the  majesty  of  truth  ;  they  love  re- 
ligion, because  it  is  their  chief  source  of  joy  and 
comfort :  but  they  have  no  love  for  its  "  clouds  and 
thick  darkness,"  its  discipline  of  the  Cross,  and  the 
mysteries  of  sorrow  by  which  God  works  in  us  both 
perseverance  and  perfection.  Though  we  love  one 
aspect  of  God's  will,  we  have  often  but  little  love 
for  the  other.  Now  here  is  a  moral  variance  be- 
tween us  and  Him ;  a  variance  which  cannot  but 
make  us  strange  to  Him,  and  give  to  every  thought 
of  passing  out  of  life,  and  going  to  a  direct  intui- 
tive vision  of  His  presence,  a  peculiar  quality  of 
fear.  Imagine,  if  we  can,  before  the  great  white 
throne,  a  soul  which  shrinks  from  home  truths, 
painful  memories  of  sin,  and  a  sharp  discipline  of 
self.  Imagine  a  gentle,  amiable  heart,  without  deep 
convictions  of  sin  or  of  the  Cross,  standing  before 
the  Word  made  flesh. 

Who  does  not  fear  that,  if  he  now  were  called 
to  stand  before  God,  he  would  be  as  the  stubble 
in  the  blast  of  the  furnace?  Surely  we  ought  to 
fear  so  long  as  we  are  conscious  that  our  will  is 
surrounded  by  a  circle  of  desires  over  which  self  and 
the  world  so  cast  their  shadows,  as  to  darken  the 


XVII.]  A   STATE  OF  LIFE.  321 

tracings  of  God's  image  upon  them.  Yet  such  too 
often  is  our  state.  In  the  main,  we  know  that 
we  are  on  the  right  side ;  but  we  suffer  our  hearts 
to  run  to  waste  in  unchastcned  and  wandering 
affections,  which  wind  about  the  world,  and  cling 
to  life  with  a  tenacious  hold.  What  fellowship 
have  you  even  with  those  whom  you  once  knew 
in  the  flesh,  now  made  perfect?  Would  you  not 
shrink  from  their  gaze,  and  from  the  sanctity  of 
their  presence?  How,  then,  can  we  but  tremble 
at  the  thought  of  entering  the  world  unseen  ? 
The  apparition  of  one  angel  would  overwhelm  us. 
How,  then,  could  we  endure  to  pass  into  the  pre- 
sence of  all  angels  and  all  saints  gathered  in  the 
heavenly  court?  Nay,  further,  what  communion 
has  our  heart  with  the  spirit  of  the  Cross  ?  And 
if  not  with  the  Cross,  what  sympathy  with  Him 
who  was  crucified  ?  Must  there  not,  then,  be 
])et\vcen  Him  and  us  a  certain  though  secret  va- 
riance, a  contradiction  of  the  heart,  making  us 
slirink  from  the  thought  of  meeting?  But  thus 
far  we  have  been  speaking  only  of  a  negative 
fitness,  of  the  absence,  that  is,  of  moral  unfitness, 
for  our  departure. 

3.  A  third  test  by  wliicli  to  try  ourselves  is, 
tlu;  positive  capacity  of  our  spiritual  Ix-iiig  for 
the  bliss  of  heaven.  Wlien  St.  Taul  l)i(ls  us  to 
follow  after  "  holiness,  without  which  no  man  shnll 

VOL.  HI.  y 


3'22  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

see  the  Lord,'"  he  surely  meant  something  more 
tliau  a  negative  quality.  He  did  not  mean,  that 
to  be  free  from  the  soils  of  sin,  or  the  oppo- 
sition of  an  imperfect  will,  was  a  sufficient  meet- 
ness  for  the  beatific  vision.  Doubtless  he  meant 
by  "  holiness"  to  express  the  active  aspirations 
of  a  spiritual  nature,  thirsting  for  the  presence 
of  God,  desiring  "  to  depart,  and  to  be  with 
Christ."^  How  unreal  and  unintelligible  are  many 
of  the  Psalms  in  our  mouths.  They  were  the  ut- 
terances of  holy  souls  yearning  for  union  with  the 
true  centre  and  life  of  their  spiritual  being.  "  Like 
as  the  hart  panteth  for  the  water- brooks,  so 
panteth  my  soul  after  Thee,  O  God.  My  soul  is 
athirst  for  God,  yea,  even  for  the  living  God  :  when 
shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God  ?"^  "  O  God, 
Thou  art  my  God ;  early  will  I  seek  Thee  :  my 
soul  thirsteth  for  Thee :  my  flesh  longeth  after 
Thee  in  a  barren  and  dry  land,  where  no  water 
is."^  Even  then,  when  the  unseen  world  was  veiled, 
and  the  heavenly  court  was  not  as  yet  laid  open, 
they  yearned,  by  a  spiritual  instinct,  for  something 
which  the  presence  of  God  could  alone  supply. 
Much  more  now  that  the  Word  made  flesh  has  sat 
down  in  His  Father's  throne,  angels  and  princi- 
palities being  made  subject  unto  Him;  now  that 

1  Heb.  xii.  14.  2  pi^j],  i  23. 

3Ps.  xlii.  1,  2.  ^Fs.  Ixiii.  1,  2. 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  323 

patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  martyrs,  and  saints, 
are  gathered  round  ahout  Him,  and  the  bliss  and 
glory  of  His  kingdom  are  revealed.     With  what 
ardent  desire  has  the  spirit  of  holiness,  in  all  pure 
souls,  thirsted  to  "  see  the  King  in  His  beauty."    As 
the  souls  under  the  altar  cried,  "Lord,  how  long?" 
much  more  have  His  saints  on  earth  cried,  "  Make 
no  long  tarrying  ;"   wo  is  me   that  my   sojourn  is 
so   long   drawn  out ;   "  Come,   Lord   Jesus,    come 
quickly."     This  is  the   voice  of  true  sanctity,   of 
those   that    "  huno^er    and   thirst   after   righteous- 
ness,"   and  are  joined    to  God   by   love,    as   rays 
hang  from  the  splendour  of  the  sun.     But  what 
do  we  know  of  these  great  things  ?     It  confounds 
and  overwhelms   us   so  much   as   to   utter,    it  be- 
wilders  and  blinds  us  even   to  think  upon  them. 
These  things  arc  for  such  as  delight  in  God,  live 
in  meditation,   seek  no  solace  but  in   prayer,   no 
joy  but   in   worship ;    are   eager    for  no   food    ])ut 
the    living  bread  which   is   broken    at    the    altar. 
For    these   fervent  souls,    set   on   fire   of  heaven, 
there  is  nothing  on  earth   but   patience,    waiting, 
and  desire.     Tlieir  true  home  is  in  God.     Their 
holiness   is   a  fervent  aspiration   to  ])e   unclothed, 
and  to  1)0  clotlicd  upon  with  incorruptible  flesh  in 
the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection. 

But  what  must   we    confess?      Is   it   not   true, 
that  for  the  most  part  our  love  of  God  is  rather 


324  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

a  conviction  of  the  reason  than  an  affection  of 
the  heart  ?  our  communion  with  Him  more  an  ex- 
citement of  the  emotions  than  an  embrace  of  the 
will  ?  our  prayers  full  of  conscious  effort  ?  our 
approaches  to  the  altar  rather  dutiful  than  fer- 
vent ?  Are  we  not  conscious  of  more  sensible 
pleasure  in  reading  devout  books  than  in  acts  of 
devotion  ?  and  still  more  pleasure  in  the  freer 
exercise  of  our  thoughts  and  affections  among 
earthly  friends,  than  in  consciousness  of  the  pre- 
sence of  God?  Nay,  do  we  not  shrink  at  the 
thought  of  beholding  the  host  of  angels,  and  even 
our  own  friends  now  made  perfect?  And  what 
does  this  betray,  but  a  great  incapacity  of  the  hea- 
venly bliss  ?  How  long  shall  we  go  on  deceiving 
ourselves  ?  It  is  not  onlv  a  life  stained  with  sin 
and  kindled  with  fires  of  evil,  or  a  soul  drowned  in 
worldly  cares  and  in  the  depths  of  sense,  or  a  will 
braced  and  strung  up  to  intense  worldliness  and 
self- worship,  or  a  mind  squandered  and  lowered  by 
levity  and  empty  trifling ;  but  also  a  heart  which 
is  coldly  observant  of  duty,  devout  in  the  concep- 
tion of  the  intellect,  and  fervent  in  the  pictures 
of  the  imagination,  —  this  too  is  a  real  incapacity 
for  the  state  of  heavenly  rest.  We  must  learn  to 
live  here  on  earth  by  the  measures  and  qualities 
of  heaven,  before  the  altar,  kneeling  in  our  closets, 
in  fellowship  with  saints  and  angels,  and  with  the 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  325 

ever-blessed  Trinity,  before  we  can  think  to  find 
our  bliss  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  His  presence, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  is  the  centre  of  that  orb  of 
light  and  blessedness  in  which  all  who  love  Him 
live  and  worship  here  on  earth.  The  blessed 
stand  at  the  fountain  of  light, — we  in  the  out- 
skirts of  its  glory.  If,  then,  we  had  our  warn- 
ing now,  "  Set  your  house  in  order,"  what  should 
we  do  ?  If  we  were  to  know  that  we  are  going  to 
leave  all  the  easy,  hopeful,  relaxed  devotions  of  our 
present  life,  to  stand  in  the  brightness  of  God's 
eternal  throne,  what  should  we  feel  ?  Should 
we  not  shrink  at  the  thought  of  eternal  worship, 
spotless  sanctity,  the  xdsion  of  the  blessed,  and  the 
majesty  of  God  ?  Are  we  meet  to  behold  and  to 
mingle  in  the  awful  realities  of  the  Divine  pre- 
sence ?  Does  not  the  remembrance  of  our  last 
communion,  or  of  this  morning's  prayers,  make 
us  tremble  at  the  sense  of  our  unheavcnly  state  ? 
Even  though  we  be  consenting  in  no  sin  ;  even 
though  our  will  be  passively  subject  to  the  will 
of  God ;  still  arc  our  active  affections  and  the  en- 
ergies of  our  spiritual  being  so  put  forth,  and  so 
centred  in  loving  and  adoring  God,  that  to  die 
would  b(!  not  so  much  a  change;  as  an  expansion 
and  perfection  of  our  ])resent  state?  It  is  the  will 
of  God  that  the  capacities  of  our  regenerate  life 
should  be  here  unfolded,   that  thev  niav  be  there 


326  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  [SeRM. 

made  perfect — should  be  here  matured,  that  they 
may  be  there  fulfilled.  To  be  pure  from  the  acts 
and  affections  of  sin  is  not  holiness.  AVe  may 
be  free  from  sin,  and  yet  may  lack  all  the  ener- 
gies and  capacities  of  heavenly  bliss  ;  for  what 
are  these  but  the  active  perfections  of  pure  and 
fervent  love  of  God,  and  of  all  the  new  creation 
in  God  and  for  God  ? 

These  are  some  of  the  questions  you  must  needs 
both  ask  and  answer  when  the  shadow  of  death 
falls  upon  your  dial.  Happy  and  holy  are  they  who 
can  say,  *'  Lord,  I  am  in  Thy  sight  but  sin  and 
death.  But  if,  through  weakness,  I  offend,  it  is  a 
wound  which  straightway  makes  my  heart  to  bleed. 
Thy  will  is  my  will ;  in  holy  obedience  or  in  holy 
patience,  in  life  or  in  death,  Thy  will  be  done  in 
me.  Thou,  in  Thy  mercy,  hast  gathered  in  my 
heart  and  my  love  from  this  life  and  from  this 
world,  and  hast  hid  them  in  Thy  kingdom. 
*  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee,  and  there  is 
none  upon  earth  I  desire  beside  Thee.'  All  the 
thoughts,  desires,  affections,  powers,  of  my  soul 
are  set  upon  Thee,  and  upon  the  bliss  and  fellow- 
ship of  Thy  saints.  This  is  my  pilgrimage  ;  that, 
through  the  Blood  of  Thy  Son,  shall  be  my  rest 
for  ever." 

There  are  now  two  short  counsels  which  it  may 
be  well  to  add. 


XVII. ]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  327 

1.  The  first  is,  that  we  strive  always  so  to 
live,  as  to  be  akin  to  the  state  of  just  men  made 
perfect.  This  is  to  live  in  fellowship  with  God, 
and  in  the  communion  of  saints.  If  we  live  for, 
or  in,  this  world,  so  as  to  sympathise  with  it,  we 
cannot  be  fit  to  die.  A  life  of  sense,  or  of  ima- 
gination, or  of  intellect,  withdraws  the  affections 
from  the  sanctity  and  peace  of  God.  We  may 
live  a  life  of  almsdeeds,  or  in  vivid  imaoinative 
communion  with  all  the  members  of  Christ's  mys- 
tical body,  or  in  active  intellectual  fellowship  with 
all  saints  from  the  beginning  ;  and  yet  have  no 
communion  with  God.  For  the  seat  of  this  is  a 
holy  will ;  and  the  bands  of  it  arc  holy  affections  of 
repentance  and  love,  of  joy  and  abasement.  The 
chief  end  and  prayer  of  our  lives  ought  to  be, 
tliat  we  may  so  pass  out  of  the  sphere  of  sense, 
imagination,  and  intellect,  into  the  region  of 
the  will,  that  our  whole  spiritual  being  may,  as 
far  as  sin  and  dust  can,  be  united  to  the  puri- 
ties and  worship  of  heaven  ;  that  as  the  chil- 
dren of  this  world  are  bound  in  sympathy  to  the 
world,  so  w(;  may  be  knit  bv  a  iniirhtv  and  trans- 
forming  sympathy  to  the  new  creation  of  God. 
This,  if  we  would  die  well,  must  be  not  tlu^  ulti- 
mate, but  the  habitual  state  of  our  hearts.  Bles- 
sed are  they  who  have  a  fervent  will,  set  on  fire 
of  God  ;  to  whom  this  world,  and  all  things  in  it, 


3QS  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH  [Serm. 

are  cheap  and  pale  ;  and  their  only  ardent  desire 
is  for  the  eternal  years.  For  them  all  things  are 
more  real  as  life  draws  on.  What  is  passing  away 
is  but  shadow  and  decay :  their  treasures  and  joys 
are  yet  to  come.  The  things  they  love  most,  and 
live  in  with  greatest  delight,  are  but  foretastes  and 
reflections ;  though  most  real,  still  but  shadows  of 
good  things  yet  to  come.  Even  the  sanctuary  and 
the  altar,  and  the  mysteries  upon  the  altar,  are  but 
the  beginning  of  joy.  God's  love,  God's  will,  God's 
holiness  ;  the  glory,  the  rest,  the  beauty  of  His  pre- 
sence ;  the  illumination  of  the  soul,  its  purity,  its 
peace ;  what  are  all  these  but  anticipations  of  the 
perfect  bliss  of  heaven  ?  If  the  beginnings  are 
beatific,  what  shall  the  fulness  be  ?  if  they  are 
blissful  in  faith,  what  shall  they  be  in  vision  ?  O 
happy  life,  in  unity  and  continuity  with  the  per- 
fect joy  !  O  that  we  may  live  in  it  altogether ! 
Let  us  come  down  upon  the  water,  for  it  will  bear 
us  up ;  let  us  not  fear  to  walk  where  He  walked  ; 
above  all,  when  we  walk  with  Him. 

Even  if  the  duties  and  works  of  life  be  upon  us, 
let  us  not  be  cast  down.  In  the  midst  of  all,  we 
may  have  our  chiefest  love  in  heaven.  The  busiest 
may  live  ready  to  die.  If  the  substance  and  heart 
of  our  spiritual  life  be  "  hid  with  Christ  in  God," 
all  duties  and  works  of  our  lot  are  but  occasions 
either  of  obedience  or  of  patience,  and  therein  of 


XVII.]  A  STATE  OF  LIFE.  S'iQ 

our  perfection.  Let  this,  then,  be  one  counsel :  to 
live  habitually  in  that  state  in  which,  if  we  should 
depart,  we  should  pass  from  a  lower  to  a  higher 
condition  of  the  same  spiritual  order ;  from  faith 
to  sight ;  from  the  first  faint  tastes  of  uncreated 
peace,  to  the  overflow  of  the  eternal  fountain. 

2.  And  the  other  counsel  is,  that  we  often  re- 
hearse in  life  the  last  preparation  we  should  make 
in  death.  We  know  not  whether  we  shall  have  time 
for  the  last  dressing  of  our  soul,  when  God  calls  us 
to  His  presence.  A  sudden  death  may  cut  us  away 
in  an  hour ;  a  wandering  mind,  or  the  distractions 
of  pain,  or  the  weight  and  burden  of  our  mere  mor- 
tality, mav  take  our  last  hours  or  days  out  of  our 
control.  It  is  good,  therefore,  in  times  of  health 
to  try  to  realise  our  last  passage ;  to  see  ourselves 
upon  our  bed  of  death  ;  and  to  surround  ourselves 
with  all  the  probable  images  and  sights  of  our  last 
hour  ;  with  the  objects  and  the  words,  even  with 
the  very  looks  which  may  be  fixed  u])on  us  then. 
Joseph  made  liis  sepulchre  in  his  garden,  in  the 
midst  of  his  most  familiar  scenes.  And  he  had  his 
reward  ;  for  that  tonih  became  a  pledge  of  his  elec- 
tion. Jt  will  he  good  for  us  to  set  ;ipart  some  day, 
as  the  day  of  the  departure  of  a  sainted  friend,  <»r 
the  day  of  our  own  hiiMli  l)y  iiMtun*  or  bv  hiiplisiii, 
and  to  spend  it  as  if  it  were  our  last,  praying  (jiod 
to  forgive  our  stains  of  soul  and  body,  the  sins  of 


S30  PREPARATION  FOR  DEATH,   ETC        [Serm.  XVII. 

all  our  thouu'hts  and  of  all  our  senses.  And  also 
to  approach  the  holy  Sacrament  at  some  certain 
season,  as  if  we  were  receiving  it  upon  our  bed  of 
death.  This  will  make  death  a  benign  and  familiar 
thought.  And  it  may  be  that  God,  in  His  tender 
mercy,  will  accept  these  our  timely  preparations  as 
if  they  were  our  last ;  and  draw  over  our  whole  life 
the  spirit  of  a  holy  fear,  and  of  a  continual  readi- 
ness to  die.  Alas !  it  is  no  good  sign  that  Chris- 
tians should  so  fear  to  see  His  face.  If  heaven  be 
the  presence  of  our  Lord,  and  if  death  be  the  pas- 
sage to  His  throne,  our  fears  betray  how  little  we 
know  of  heavenly  blessedness,  and  how  little  ca- 
pacity we  have  for  the  fruition  of  its  peace.  Let 
us,  then,  try,  day  by  day,  so  to  live,  that  if  we 
were  to  die,  we  should  but  pass  out  of  the  conflict 
and  clouds  of  this  earthly  trial,  into  the  fulfilment 
of  our  most  kindled  and  ardent  longings.  And, 
further,  let  us  each  one  seek,  not  by  high  ima- 
ginations or  by  excited  emotions,  but  by  deepening 
in  ourselves,  and  praying  God  to  increase  in  us 
ever  more  and  more,  both  zeal  and  sorrow,  the 
grace  to  live  the  life  and  to  die  the  death  of  a 
perfect  and  fervent  penitent. 


SEEM  ox  XYIIL 


THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  OUR  ONLY  STAY. 


St.  John  xv.  13. 

"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  friends." 

If  the  thought  of  sin,  death,  and  judgment,  be  so 
terrible,  as  in  truth  they  are  to  every  soul  of  man, 
on  what  shall  we  stay  ourselves  when  our  time  is 
at  hand  ?  Not  upon  the  smallness  nor  the  fewness 
of  our  sins,  for  our  whole  life  is  full  of  stains  ;  nor 
upon  the  multitude  or  the  greatness  of  our  good 
deeds,  God  knoweth  ;  for  where  shall  they  be 
found  ?  When  we  come,  as  it  were,  into  the  ranire 
and  presence  of  death,  our  whole  consciousness  is 
penetrated  with  a  sense  of  sin.  We  see  not  only 
the  evil  we  have  done,  but  the  good  we  have 
left  undone.  And  the  good,  if  so  be,  that  we  have 
striven  to  do,  we  seem  to  see  for  the  first  time 
revealed  by  some  strange  and  searching  light,  in 
which    all    looks   blemished,    marred,    and    sullied. 


332  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

The  holiest  soul  will,  perhaps,  be  the  most  over- 
whelmed, for  a  time,  by  this  vision  of  humiliation  ; 
so  sure  is  it,  that  they  who  do  most  works  of 
holiness,  trust  least  in  them.  They  cannot  but 
feel,  that  there  is  not  an  hour  nor  an  act  of  their 
life  in  which,  if  they  have  not  crossed  the  end  of 
their  creation,  they  have,  at  least,  fallen  short  of 
fulfilling  it. 

On  what,  then,  shall  we  stay  ourselves  in  the 
day  when  the  fear  of  death  falls  upon  us  ? 

1.  First,  upon  the  love  of  God,  in  giving  His 
Son  to  die  for  us.  "  God  so  loved  the  world ;" — 
that  is,  so  almightily,  so  divinely,  with  the  infinite 
love  of  the  eternal  Godhead;  —  "that  He  gave 
His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."^ 
"  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that 
He  loved  us,  and  sent  His  Son  to  be  the  propitia- 
tion for  our  sins."^  "  God  commendeth  His  love 
toward  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ 
died  for  us."^  This  is  our  first  foundation,  that 
God  loves  the  world ;  that  He  looks  upon  the 
works  of  His  hands  with  an  eternal  and  stedfast 
love,  with  a  tender,  yearning  compassion.  What- 
ever be  doubtful,  this  is  sure.  Light  does  not  pour 
forth  from  the  sun  with  a  fuller  and  director  ray, 
than  does  perfect  and  eternal  love  overflow  from 
1  St.  John  iii.  16.         M  St.  John  iv.  10.  3  Rom.  v.  8. 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  333 

the  bosom  of  God  upon  all  the  works  that  He  has 
made.  The  mere  fact  of  creation  is  a  proof  of  love. 
"  He  hateth  nothing  that  He  hath  made."  All 
being  is  His  work,  the  subject  of  His  power,  the 
object  of  His  love.  The  force  of  this  truth  is 
boundless.  It  is  true  that  God  hates  sin,  and, 
therefore,  whatever  in  us  is  sinful ;  for,  so  far,  we 
have  unmade  ourselves  ;  we  have  undone  His  work  ; 
uncreated,  so  to  speak,  His  creation  ;  so  far,  we 
are  not  His  creatures  ;  so  far,  we  are  under  the 
shadow  of  His  wrath.  But,  as  the  work  of  His 
hands,  we  are  objects  of  a  changeless  and  eternal 
love.  This  is  a  wonderful  mystery  ;  a  contradic- 
tion to  the  guilty  consciousness  of  sinners.  In 
them  the  sinner  has  absorbed,  as  it  were,  the  crea- 
ture of  God ;  and  all  tlioy  feel  is  fear,  and  a 
sense  of  His  just  aversion.  But  the  everlasting 
truth  still  stands  fast,  that  God  loves  us.  It  is 
specially  declared  by  our  Lord,  that  '*  God  so  loved 
the  world,"  fallen  as  it  is  in  sin,  as  to  give  His  Son 
for  it.  St.  J(/im  says,  thnt  He  loved  us,  though 
we  loved  Him  not  :  St.  Paul,  that  while  enemies 
He  loved  us.  All  this  shews  that  the  love  of  God 
is  the  sphere  in  which  the  world  is  sustained  ;  and 
that  every  living  soul  is  encompassed  by  that  love, 
as  stars  by  the  firmament  of  heaven. 

And  from  this  blessed  truth  flows  all  uianiicr  of 
consolation.     Not  only  does  God  hate  sin,  but  He 


334*  THE  DEATH   of  CHRIST  [Serm. 

hates  death  ;  not  only  does  He  abhor  evil,  but  the 
peril  and  perdition  of  so  much  as  one  living  soul, 
— of  one,  even  the  least  of  all  things  He  has  made. 
The  Lord  hath  sworn  by  Himself,  saying,  "  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth."^  It 
is  as  much,  nay,  far  more,  against  His  loving  will 
that  we  should  perish  than  against  our  own.  Let 
us,  then,  sum  up  all  our  fears,  terrors,  and  shrink- 
ing, our  abhorrence  of  death,  judgment,  and  eternal 
sorrow,  and  then  know  that,  while  God  hates  our 
sins.  He  abhors  our  death  and  misery  far  more 
than  we.  What  words  do  we  further  need  to 
assure  us  that  He  desires  our  salvation  ?  What 
promises  do  we  ask  ?  Why  do  we  so  far  tempt 
Him  as  to  exact  a  promise,  or  to  ask  a  sign  ? 
Does  a  child  bind  his  father  by  promises  to  give 
him  bread,  or  a  mother  to  foster  him  in  sick- 
ness ?  Do  not  the  instincts  of  nature  suffice,  in 
silence,  for  this  perfect  trust  ?  Surely  the  cha- 
racter of  God  is  enough.  "  God  is  love."  What 
more  do  we  ask  ?  What  more  would  we  receive  ? 
"  He  cannot  deny  Himself."  And  therefore  when 
He  was  "  willing  more  abundantly  to  shew  unto 
the  heirs  of  promise  the  immutability  of  His  coun- 
sel," He  "confirmed  it  by  an  oath."^  And  "be- 
cause He  could  swear  by  no  greater,  He  sware 
by  Himself;"  that  is.  His  promise  was  confirmed 

1  Ezek.  xviii.  32.  -  Heb.  vi.  17. 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  335 

by  His  oath,  and  His  oath  by  Himself;  and  both 
His  oath  and  His  promise  returned  into  His  own 
perfection.     "  Surely  blessing  I  will  bless  thee."^ 

But  for  us  God  has  done  still  more.  He  has, 
besides  His  promise,  found  a  pledge  to  give  us. 
He  has  given  us  "  His  only  begotten  Son."  Here 
is  the  very  type  of  absolute  love  ;  higher  He  could 
not  go :  for  if  God  "  spared  not  His  own  Son, 
but  delivered  Him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  He  not 
with  Him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?"'  Into 
this  mystery  of  Divine  love  and  sacrifice  we  can- 
not penetrate.  The  love  of  the  Holy  Three,  the 
Blessed  One,  is  a  depth  before  which  w-e  can 
only  fall  upon  our  face  and  worship.  As  if  His 
eternal  character  were  but  a  small  thing  for  our 
assurance,  God  has  added  this  further,  that  He 
has  given  unto  us  His  Son,  *'  the  Son  of  His  love." 
He  gave  Him  up  to  suffer  all  humiliation,  agony, 
and  death  ;  all  that  the  Divine  nature  most  abhors ; 
and  He  gave  Him  to  be  ours  in  so  full  a  right,  that 
we  mi":ht  offer  Him  as  our  own  in  sacrifice  for  our 
sins.  Here,  then,  is  the  first  foundation,  tlio  bnsis 
of  the  spiritual  world,  in  which  tlic  ncnv  creation  of 
God  is  laid,  —  the  love  of  God  in  tlu;  gift  of  His 
Son.  When  we  arc  overtaken  by  the  fear  of  denth, 
or  the  consciousness  of  sins  of  which  we  desire 
to  repent,  let  us  first  rest  ourselves  upon  the  infi- 

'  Hcb.  vi.  14.  2  Rom.  viii.  '62. 


336  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

nite  love  of  our  Maker.  It  must  be  a  strong  and 
strange  necessity  that  can  thrust  itself  between 
Him  and  us ;  and  so  contradict  the  will  of  both 
as  to  turn  aside  His  love,  and  to  destroy  our 
soul.  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
even  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  Him. 
He  knoweth  our  frame ;  He  remembereth  that 
we  are  but  dust."'  His  creative  love  alone  would 
be  enough  to  still  our  fears,  and  to  shew  us  that, 
if  any  perish,  it  is  not  because  He  is  austere,  but 
because  they  are  evil.  The  whole  will  and  king- 
dom of  God  is  love  ;  and  to  Him,  in  that  kingdom, 
we  may  come  with  boldness  of  hope  and  trust. 
How  much  more  now  that  He  has  revealed  His 
love  to  be  two-fold,  in  creation  and  in  redemp- 
tion, by  first  giving  us  unto  Himself,  and  then 
by  giving  unto  us  His  Son ;  now  that  He  is  "  in 
Christ,"  not  waiting  our  overtures  of  peace,  but 
"  reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself.""  It  is  He, 
the  Almighty  and  the  offended  King,  who  sends  an 
ambassage  of  love,  lowering  Himself  to  be  before- 
hand in  the  tokens  and  effusion  of  His  mercy. 

But  it  is  certainly  true,  that  we  are  not  able  to 
stay  ourselves  on  this  alone.  If  we  were  upright  as 
in  the  beginning,  or  perfect  in  our  conversion,  we 
might  need  no  other  consolation ;  but  being,  as  we 
are,  fallen,  and  soiled,  weak,  and,  at  the  best,  im- 

1  Ps.  ciii.  13,  14.  2  2  Cor.  v.  19. 


XVIIT.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  337 

perfect  in  repentance,  we  cannot  but  stretch  out  our 
hands  for  more  and  more  assurances  of  His  tender 
mercy, — of  the  mercy  we  need,  not  as  creatures,  but 
as  sinners.  That  is  to  say,  we  are  convinced  of  it 
as  an  object  of  faith,  but  we  are  full  of  misgivings 
in  applying  it  to  our  own  soul,  and  to  our  own  hope 
of  life.  We  want  something  to  assure  us  with  a 
more  intimate  personal  conviction.  And  even  this 
He  has  given  us  besides. 

2.  For  we  have,  as  a  second  foundation  on 
which  to  build  our  trust,  the  love  of  the  Son  in 
giving  Himself  for  us.  '*  Greater  love  hath  no 
man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friends."  When  we  remember  who  He  is  that 
gave  Himself,  and  for  whom,  and  to  die  what 
dcatli,  we  cannot  find  capacity  of  heart  to  re- 
ceive it.  As  an  intellectual  statement  it  is  easy 
to  enunciate  ;  but  as  a  moral  fact  in  our  affec- 
tions it  is  hard  to  realise  :  so  deep  is  the  mys- 
tery of  love.  If  He  had  saved  us  by  a  new  ex- 
ertion of  His  creative  will,  it  would  have  been 
a  miracle  of  lovingkindness.  If  He  had  s])okcn 
once  more  the  first  words  of  power,  and  created  us 
figain  in  li^ht,  il  would  hav(;  been  a  mystery  of 
sovereign  grace.  If  He  had  redeemed  us  by  the 
lowliness  of  tin;  Incarnation,  still  revealing  Him- 
self in  majesty,  though  as  a  man,  and  lightening 
the   earth    with    His   glory,    as   Saviour,    (Jod,   ajid 

VOL.  III.  z 


338  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

King,  it  would  have  seemed  to  us  a  perfect  exhi- 
bition of  the  Divine  compassion  to  a  sinful  world. 
How  much  more  when  He  came  to  suffer  shame 
and  sorrow,  all  that  flesh  and  blood  can  endure,  to 
sink,  as  it  were,  into  the  lowest  depths  of  creation, 
that  He  might  uplift  it  from  its  farthest  fall  ? 
There  was  no  creature  of  God,  as  a  creature,  be- 
neath His  estate.  Nothing  but  sin  itself  can  sink 
lower  than  the  Son  of  God.  Of  all  men,  as  man. 
He  was  the  last;  "a  worm,  and  no  man ;  a  very  scorn 
of  men,  and  the  outcast  of  the  people."'  He  came 
to  "lay  down  His  life."  Even  the  mystery  of  the 
Incarnation,  His  words  of  grace,  and  His  works  of 
power,  were  all  too  unemphatic,  too  inarticulate,  to 
express  His  love.  There  was  needed  something 
deeper  and  more  awful  still.  "  Being  in  the  form 
of  God,"  He  emptied  Himself  of  His  glory.  His 
Godhead  He  could  not  lay  aside  for  us  ;  but  He 
took  to  Himself  something — the  dearest  and  most 
precious  to  the  soul  of  man — He  took  our  nature, 
and  therein  a  life,  the  most  loved  and  priceless  of 
all  gifts  of  God.  There  is  nothing  to  be  compared 
with  life.  We  cherish  it  as  our  very  self;  it  is 
the  centre  of  every  care  ;  the  end  of  all  our  labours. 
"  All  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life."^ 
Such  He  took  unto  Himself ;  and  thereby  He  pos- 
sessed Himself  of  something  He  might  give  for  us. 

'  Ps.  xxii.  6.  -  Job  ii.  4. 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  339 

"  Therefore  doth  My  Father  love  Me,  because  I 
lay  down  My  life,  that  I  might  take  it  again.  No 
man  taketh  it  from  Mc  ;  but  I  lay  it  down  of  My- 
self. I  have  power  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have 
power  to  take  it  again.'"  It  was  a  distinct  personal 
act,  a  deliberate  choice,  first  made  in  His  own  will, 
then  followed  out  in  suffering  to  its  fulfilment.  He 
liad,  by  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  obtained  a 
price  of  greatest  worth,  of  which  He  could  strip 
Himself  for  our  sake,  ascertaining  to  us  thereby,  in 
some  measure,  by  the  scales  of  a  man,  the  love  He 
bare  to  us. 

If  He  so  loved  us  as  to  die  for  us,  what  will  He 
not  grant  or  do  ?  If  He  gave  His  whole  self,  will 
He  keep  back  any  partial  gift  ?  Will  He  not  save 
us,  who  Himself  died  for  us  ?  If  He  loved  us  when 
wc  loved  Him  not,  will  He  not  love  us  now  that 
we  desire  to  love  Him  again  ?  If  He  gave  Himself 
for  us  when  we  were  in  sin,  will  He  not  hear  us 
now  that  by  Him  w^e  are  regenerate?  Notwitli- 
standing  all  our  manifold  provocations,  yet  if  He 
offered  Himself  for  those  who  were  impenitent,  He 
will  surely  listen  to  us  now  that  we  grieve  at  the 
wounds  wherewith  we  have  pierced  Him;  now  that 
we  count  ourselves  among  His  scourges,  mockeries, 
and  thorns.  Well  might  St.  Paul  call  it  "  the  love 
of  Christ  which  passcth   knowledge  ;"  well   might 

'  St.  John  X.  1.'),  IG. 


340  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

he  pray  for  the  illumination  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
that  we  might  "  comprehend  with  all  saints  what 
is  the  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth,  and  height" 
of  the  mystery  of  the  Cross,  its  eternity,  its  infinite 
embrace,  its  fulness,  and  its  perfection.  AVhen  sin 
and  conscience  overwhelm  us,  here  is  our  pledge  of 
pardon.  No  man  ever  loved  us  as  He.  Neither 
friend  nor  brother,  father  nor  mother,  sister  nor 
child,  none  ever  loved  us  with  such  intense,  change- 
less, discerning  love.  Sinners  though  we  be,  we 
may  say,  "  None  ever  so  loved  me — not  for  what 
is  in  me — not  for  any  love  of  mine — not  for  any 
mutual  joy — but  for  my  own  sake,  because  I  am  a 
living  soul,  created  in  His  own  image,  capable  of 
eternal  weal  or  woe.  He  loves  me,  not  for  what  I 
am,  but  in  spite  of  what  I  am.  He  has  loved  me 
always,  and  loves  me  still ;  and  to  that  love  I  go, 
as  to  a  supernatural  mercy,  to  a  miraculous  pity, 
to  a  divine  compassion.  He  will  not  cast  me  out, 
much  less  will  He  cut  me  off,  if  at  least  an  almighty 
justice  can  save  my  soul  alive." 

And  this  touches  upon  the  quick  of  our  fear. 
Loving,  pitiful,  and  tender.  He  is  also  holy,  pure, 
and  just.  It  may  be,  you  are  saying  to  yourself, 
"  Though  He  gave  even  His  own  life  to  reveal 
His  love  and  desire  to  save  us,  am  I  such  that 
He  can  save  while  He  is  also  just  and  pure  ? 
My  sins  have  created  a  necessity  that,  if  He  cannot 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  341 

shew  mercy,  He  must  be  just.  Guilt  and  soils  can- 
not enter  the  kingdom  of  God ;  and  I  have  both. 
I  do  not  mistrust  His  love  ;  for  '  greater  love  hath 
no  man  than  this ;'  and  He  has  given  me  His 
pledge,  even  His  very  life.  But  I  fear  the  eternal 
necessities  of  justice,  and  the  sinfulness  which  has 
clung  to  me  since  the  first  awakening  of  power  and 
will." 

3.  Now  it  is  specially  against  this  deepest  fear 
of  the  soul — this  only  fear,  for  none  can  really 
doubt  His  perfect  love  —  that  He  has  given  us 
an  absolute  assurance.  He  has  laid  a  foundation 
which  cannot  be  moved — His  own  death  for  us  upon 
the  Cross.  Hitherto  we  have  looked  upon  it  only 
as  a  revelation  of  Divine  love  to  us  ;  now  let  us 
look  upon  it  as  a  Divine  atonement  for  our  sin. 
How  it  is  so,  we  may  not  eagerly  search  to  know. 
That  by  death  He  has  destroyed  "  him  that  had 
the  power  of  death,'"  and  taken  "  away  the  sin  of 
the  world,"  is  enough.  In  that  death  were  united 
the  oblation  of  a  Divine  person  and  the  sanctity  of 
a  sinless  man ;  the  perfection  of  a  holy  will  and 
the  fulfilment  of  a  spotless  life  ;  the  willing  sacri- 
fice of  the  sinless  for  the  sinful,  of  the  shepherd 
for  the  sheep  that  was  lost,  of  life  for  the  dead. 
How  this  wrought  atonciment  for  the  siii  of  iIk' 
world,  we  cannot  say  further  tluui  is  reveale<l.  ( J<»<l 
1  Heh.  ii.  14. 


3ifQ  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

**  iiicade  Him  to  be  sin  for  us."'  "  He  bare  our  sins 
in  His  own  body  on  the  tree."  "By  His  stripes 
we  are  healed."  How  the  guiltless  could  take  the 
place  of  the  guilty  ;  how  the  penalty  due  to  our  sin 
could  be  laid  on  any  but  ourselves,  above  all,  on 
One  who  was  sinless  ;  and  how  such  a  translation 
of  punishment  could  also  translate  us  from  the 
throng  of  the  guilty  to  the  company  of  the  guilt- 
less ;  how  the  eternal  Righteousness  has  been 
pleased  to  unite  this  atonement  to  His  own 
changeless  severity ;  how'  the  iron  link  between 
sin  and  death  has  been  broken  through,  and  the 
power  of  both  abolished, — and  all  this  at  once, 
by  the  death  of  a  Divine  and  sinless  Person, — 
must,  at  least  in  this  our  wavfarinof  on  earth,  be 
a  mystery  unsearchable,  and  a  depth  past  finding 
out.  We  may,  perhaps,  be  admitted  within  the 
veil  in  the  heavenly  kingdom ;  we  may  behold 
this  secret  of  eternal  justice  in  the  vision  of  peace. 
But  in  this  life,  it  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that 
He  hath  tasted  "  death  for  every  man ;"  that 
"  there  is  now  no  condemnation  to  them  that  are 
in  Christ  Jesus." 

Deeply  convinced  as  we  are  of  this  corner-stone 
of  truth,  w^e  are  still  only  able  to  realise  it  in  part. 
The  consciousness  of  personal  guilt,  both  original 
and  actual,  the  sense   of  indwelling  and  habitual 

1  2  Cor.  V.  21. 


XVIII]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  343 

sinfulness,  makes  us  to  shrink  even  in  the  presence 
of  the  Cross  ;  as  if  by  it  the  sin  of  all  the  world 
were  taken  away  except  our  own.  We  are  wont 
to  say,  "If  I  had  not  this  consciousness,  I  would 
firmly  trust  that  my  sin  is  also  taken  away.  But 
this  consciousness  cries  out,  and  clamours  against 
my  intellectual  convictions.  My  spiritual  nature 
contradicts  this  flattery,  and  forbids  me  to  rest 
upon  a  truth  of  the  abstract  reason." 

Now  what  does  this  mean  ?  It  is,  in  truth,  as 
much  as  to  say :  "I  would  trust  in  the  death  of 
Christ,  if  like  Him  I  were  without  sin."  Or,  "  I 
would  trust,  if  sin  were  first  so  wholly  cleansed 
away  from  me,  that  in  all  my  consciousness  there 
remained  no  memorial  of  the  fall."  What  is  this 
but  a  virtual  rejection  of  the  atonement,  that  is,  of 
a  sacrifice  for  sinners  ?  What  is  it  but  unbelief  to 
say  :  "  I  would  trust  in  it,  if  I  had  no  need  of  it ;  but 
because  I  am  conscious  of  the  need,  I  dare  not,  or  I 
will  not  ?"  AVhat  does  this  mean  but,  "  If  I  had  no 
need,  I  would  therefore  trust"  (having  then  no  need 
to  trust  at  all)  ;  "  but  because  I  need,  I  dare  not," 
that  is,  "  I  have  no  faith  ?"  Surely  this  is  the  very 
crisis  between  the  religion  of  nature,  which  teaches 
no  fall  and  no  atonement,  and  the  Gospel  of  life,  of 
which  sin  and  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  are  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end.  Therefore,  in  one  word,  the  rea- 
son why  we  may,  —  nay  must,  cast  ourselves  upon 


34>4f  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Sebm. 

the  atonement  of  His  death,  is  this  same  conscious- 
ness of  sin,  which  crushes  us  to  the  dust.  To 
whom  else  shall  we  go  ?  To  what  power  in  hea- 
ven or  earth,  to  what  purging  fires,  to  what  heal- 
ing streams  ?  "  If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven.  Thou 
art  there  ;  if  I  go  down  into  hell,  Thou  art  there 
also."  We  cannot  fly  from  Him  :  we  cannot  fly 
from  ourselves.  The  sin  that  is  in  us  cleaves  to 
our  very  life.  Where  we  go,  it  goes  ;  when  we 
lie  down,  it  broods  upon  us  ;  all  day  long  it 
wakes  with  us,  all  night '  through  it  moves  with 
our  sleeping  thoughts  ;  it  follows  us  as  the  sha- 
dow of  our  being  ;  and  its  blackness  always  lies 
full  length  upon  our  hearts.  Such  we  are,  and 
must  be,  till  He  change  us  ;  and  as  such,  we  must 
go  up  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  and  fall  down,  and 
hold  fast  by  His  pierced  Feet.  Just  such  as  we 
are  we  must  go  :  though  it  is  all  the  more  fear- 
ful as  it  is  the  more  blessed :  the  more  we  need 
that  atonement,  the  more  we  must  shrink  as  we 
draw  near  to  it.  But  He  will  suffer  us  to  make  no 
terms,  nor  compromises  ;  to  prescribe  no  conditions 
on  which  we  will  believe  ourselves  to  be  forgiven. 
He  will  have  faith,  undoubting,  unreasoning,  sim- 
ple,— childlike,  hopeful,  loving  faith.  Do  we,  then, 
know  so  much  better  than  He  the  necessities  of  the 
eternal  world,  the  prerogatives  of  His  own  kingdom, 
the  harmony  of  His  attributes,  the  due  measure  of 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  34<5 

His  holiness,  the  glory  of  His  throne  ;  that  we  will 
not  accept  our  pardon  on  such  unequal  terms  ?  Do 
w^e  so  far  better  know  than  He  what  is  our  own 
state  before  Him,  that  we  may  put  His  atonement 
by ;  as  self-trusting"  patients  analyse  the  skill  of 
their  physician  ?  AVhat  He  would  have,  is  not  the 
sight  of  our  eyes,  nor  the  discernment  of  our  wit, 
nor  the  measures  of  our  intellect ;  but  the  affiance 
of  our  will,  and  the  trust  of  our  hearts.  It  is  the 
very  trial  of  faith,  as  much  to  contradict  within  its 
own  sphere  the  doubts  of  our  natural  conscious- 
ness, as  the  impressions  of  our  natural  sense.  If 
"  we  walk  by  faith,  not  by  sight ;" '  much  more  arc 
we  saved  by  faith,  not  by  the  sensations  of  a  fallen 
nature. 

But  here  an  objection  may  be  made, — of  great 
weight,  if  well  founded  ;  and  of  apparent  weight,  ill 
founded  as  it  is, — namely,  that  consciousness  is  the 
reflection  of  conscience,  and  that  conscience  is  a 
guide  given  us  by  God.  And  as  we  cannot  put 
two  divine  gifts  in  contradiction,  wc  therefore  can- 
not put  faith  against  a  conscience  which  convinces 
us  of  sin. 

Now  to  this  we  must  answer,  strangely  to  the 
ears  of  some,  tbat  we  must  not,  and  yet  tb;it  wo 
nmst    so   contradict    ourselves.      And    willi    a    lew 
words  of  explanation  we  will  make  an  end. 
»  2  Cor.  V.  7. 


3i'6  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

1 .  First,  then,  it  is  clear,  that  wc  must  not  put 
faith  in  contradiction  to  our  consciousness  of  sin, 
if  by  that  we  mean  a  sentence  of  our  heart,  con- 
victing us  of  any  wilful  sin.  In  this  sense,  con- 
science and  consciousness  are  one  and  the  same ; 
conscience  implying  the  judicial  sentence  of  the 
soul  upon  itself,  and  consciousness,  the  diffused 
sense  of  its  own  condemnation.  When  we  can  find 
in  ourselves  sins  wilfully  committed,  and  not  re- 
pented of,  or  sins  wilfully  repeated  after  repent- 
ance, whether  they  be  grosser  and  less  frequent,  or 
more  refined  and  of  habitual  commission  ;  or  if  we 
know  within  ourselves,  that  we  are  living  without 
any  true  relation  to  the  presence  of  God ;  consent- 
mg:  in  the  evil  and  darkness  of  our  hearts  :  cold 
and  dead  in  our  religious  aff*ections ;  formal  and 
lifeless  in  prayer ;  without  humiliation,  self-dis- 
cipline, self-knowledge  ;  without  thought  of  death 
and  of  God; — if  this  or  any  such  state  be  our 
settled  and  habitual  condition  in  His  sight,  then 
without  doubt,  it  is  mere  antinomianism,  or  pre- 
sumption, or  blindness  of  heart,  to  talk'  of  faith  in 
the  atonement  of  Christ.  "  There  is  no  peace, 
saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked."  When  the  moral 
and  spiritual  nature  is  so  estranged  from  God, 
so  severed  and  deadened, — I  may  say,  so  opposed 
and  hostile  to  the  Divine  holiness,  love,  and  will, — 
it  is  worse  than  self-deceit  to  talk  of  resting  upon 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  34-7 

the  death  of  Christ.  This  is  most  certain,  and 
can  never  be  too  often  or  too  strongly  repeated. 
This  describes  the  character  of  wilful  sinners,  open 
or  secret,  worldly  and  unconverted  souls ;  phari- 
sees,  hypocrites,  sluggards,  self-deceivers,  and  the 
like.  But  surely  it  is  no  discovery  to  find  out  that 
such  as  these  can,  in  that  state,  put  no  trust  in  the 
blood  of  the  Cross.  When  really  sifted  to  the  bot- 
tom, then,  the  objection  means  nothing  more  than 
this  :  '*  Why  call  ye  Me  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not 
the  things  which  I  say  ?"  "  A  man  may  say.  Thou 
hast  faith,  and  I  have  works  :  shew  me  thy  faith 
without  thy  works,  and  I  will  shew  thee  my  faith  by 
my  works.  But  wilt  thou  know,  O  vain  man,  that 
faith  without  works  is  dead  ?"  "  What  doth  it 
profit,  though  a  man  say  he  hath  faith,  and  have 
not  works ;  can  faith  save  him  ?"  "  Faitli,  if  it 
have  not  works,  is  dead.'"  In  this  sense,  then,  let 
it  be  said,  with  all  words  and  tones  of  warning,  that 
the  love  of  God,  and  of  Christ,  and  His  precious 
death  upon  the  Cross,  are  all  in  vain  to  the  man 
who  is  conscious  of  wilful  and  unrepcnted  sin. 

2.  But,  lastly,  there  is  a  sense  most  true  and 
most  blessed,  in  which  wc  not  only  may,  but  must 
rest  by  faith  in  tlie  doatli  of  Christ,  in  des])it(;  of 
our  consciousness  of  sin  ;  ;ind  tlint  is,  wlicn  lli;it 
consciousness  is  a  memory  of  sins,  wilful  indeed  in 

•  St.  James  ii.  IS,  20;    14,  17. 


v^48  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST  [Serm. 

time  past,  but  repented  now,  or  committed  through 
weakness,  with  instant  sorrow,  and  against  our  ha- 
bitual will.  For  what  is  this  but  the  state  of  every 
true  penitent,  or  of  every  just  man  not  yet  made 
perfect  ?  If  such  Christians  as  these  may  not  trust 
themselves  to  the  atoning  death  of  Christ,  the 
Cross  must  stand  deserted  and  fruitless  as  a  dry 
and  barren  tree.  What  are  penitents  but  those  in 
whom  memory,  imagination,  thoughts,  tumultuous 
emotions,  vehement  drawings  of  the  will,  and  strug- 
gles of  the  heart  against  the  conscience,  cloud  and 
disturb  the  consciousness  of  the  soul  ?  They  are 
haunted  by  a  sense  of  the  presence  of  sin,  and  yet 
"  who  shall  separate"  them  "  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?"  Nay,  what  is  the  condition  of  those  who 
have  long  been  converted  to  God  but  one  of  warfare, 
of  frequent  self-accusation,  and  of  trembling  self- 
mistrust  ?  Take  the  most  watchful  and  stedfast  of 
God's  servants,  and  ask  whether  his  consciousness 
is  so  clear  and  cloudless,  that  he  can  therefore, 
without  a  fear,  apply  to  himself  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Cross.  "  To  which  of  the  saints  wilt  thou  turn  ?" 
Ask  of  the  chosen  vessel,  the  elect  apostle.  "  1 
know  nothing  by  (that  is,  of,  or  against)  myself ; 
yet  am  I  not  hereby  justified.  But  He  that  judgeth 
me  is  the  Lord."^  Even  he  must  say,  *'  I  count 
not  myself  to  have  apprehended  ;"  and  "  if  by  any 

^  1  Cor.  iv.  4. 


XVIir.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  349 

means  I  might  attain  unto  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead.'"  It  is,  then,  most  true  that  no  one  may 
deceive  himself  by  trusting  in  the  death  of  Christ, 
so  long  as  his  conscience  condemns  him  of  wilful 
sin ;  but  it  is  equally  and  as  absolutely  true, 
that  no  man  can  rest  his  trust  in  that  atonement 
upon  the  possession  of  a  sinless  consciousness. 
The  grace  of  faith  is  a  gift  specially  meted  out 
to  the  necessity  of  those  who  are  in  neither  of 
these  states ;  but  in  that  middle  condition  in  which 
a  heart,  sincerely  converted,  clings  with  all  its 
grasp  to  the  atonement  of  the  Cross.  This  is  its 
only  safety  against  the  malignity  of  the  devil,  the 
power  of  temptation,  the  infirmity  of  our  manhood, 
and  the  flexible  treachery  of  our  own  will.  The 
full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice  of  the  Cross  is 
the  only  stay  of  the  soul,  from  the  hour  of  its  sin- 
cere conversion  to  the  change  which  shall  make  us 
to  be  "  pure  even  as  He  is  pure."  Let  us,  therefore, 
guard  with  all  watchfulness  and  prayer  against 
every  consent  of  the  heart  in  any  thing  of  evil.  Let 
us  withdraw  ourselves  by  the  whole  j)ower  of  our 
will,  through  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  from  all 
communion  with  *'  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of 
the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  life."  What  tlieii  innv 
come  upon  us  is  from  uillioiii.  It  is  not  our  sin, 
but  our  scourge  ;  permitted  to  try  and  to  liiiiiiljlc  us. 

'  Phil.  iii.  i:}  and  II. 


850  THE  DEATH   OF  CIIIIIST  [Serm. 

Even  though  we  fall,  as  saints  have  fallen,  yet  let 
us  not  cast  away  our  trust.  When  trust  is  gone, 
hope  is  dead ;  and  where  there  is  no  hope,  there 
can  he  no  repentance :  for  where  there  is  no  love, 
there  can  be  no  contrition ;  and  love  cannot  sur- 
vive the  death  of  hope ;  for  the  loss  of  hope  is 
despair,  that  is,  the  fear  of  certain  perdition,  "  the 
fearful  looking  for  of  fiery  indignation."  There- 
fore it  is  that  Satan  strives  above  all  to  destroy  in 
us  the  power  of  faith,  hope,  and  love, — the  three 
blessed  gifts  of  grace  infused  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
in  our  regeneration.  If  these  can  be  destroyed, 
and  their  spiritual  antagonists  implanted  and  ma- 
tured in  the  soul,  it  matters  not  what  we  profess  or 
practise.  The  revealed  object  and  the  productive 
source  of  these  three  virtues  of  the  Spirit  is  the 
atonement  of  the  Cross.  Let  us  hold  fast  by 
this ;  and  they  will  be  replenished  by  a  perpetual 
effluence  of  His  Divine  love,  streaming  into  our 
souls,  and  drawing  them  back,  as  by  a  tide,  unto 
Himself.  He  has  so  united  us  unto  Himself,  that 
when  He  died  for  all,  we  died  together  with  Him ; 
and  because  He  liveth,  we  shall  live  also.  His 
life  and  His  death  are  inseparably  ours.  Death 
has  done  its  worst  against  us  already  upon  the 
Cross.  And  "  our  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 
Let  us,  then,  strive  to  say  to  our  own  heart,  in  the 
words  of  a  saint  now  in  His  kingdom :   "  While 


XVIII.]  OUR  ONLY  STAY.  351 

there  is  life  in  thee,  in  this  death  alone  place  all 
thy  trust ;  confide  in  nothing  else  besides ;  to  this 
death  commit  thyself  altogether ;  with  this  shelter 
thy  whole  self ;  with  this  death  array  thyself  from 
head  to  foot.  And  if  the  Lord  thy  God  wdll  judge 
thee,  say,  Lord,  between  Thy  judgment  and  me 
I  cast  the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  no 
otherwise  can  I  contend  with  Thee.  And  if  He  say 
to  thee,  Thou  art  a  sinner  j  say,  Lord,  I  stretch 
forth  the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  between 
my  sins  and  Thee.  If  He  say,  Thou  art  w^orthy  of 
condemnation ;  say,  Lord,  I  set  the  death  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  between  my  evil  deserts  and 
Thee,  and  His  merits  I  offer  for  those  merits 
which  I  ought  to  have,  but  have  not  of  my  own. 
If  He  say  that  He  is  wroth  with  thee ;  say.  Lord,  I 
lift  up  the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  between 
Thy  wrath  and  me.'"  Let  this  be  our  confidence. 
The  love  of  God  in  Christ;  the  love  of  Christ  in 
dying  ;  the  death  of  Christ  upon  the  Cross ;  lifted 
up  for  us ;  a  perpetual  sacrifice  ;  one,  spotless, 
all-prevailing ;  ever  fresh,  ever  full  of  life  j  infinite 
in  price,  virtue,  and  power.  In  life  and  death,  in 
our  last  agony,  in  the  day  of  judgment,  be  this 
our  only  stay,  our  liope,  our  all. 

'  S.  Anselmi  Admonitio  moriciiti,  Ojtp.  \).  VJ4. 


SEEMON  XIX. 


THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH. 


Psalm  Iv.  4. 

"  My  heart  is  sore  pained  within  me,  and  the  terrors  of  death 
are  fallen  upon  me." 

In  the  version  of  the  Psalter  used  in  the  Prayer- 
book,  this  verse  stands  with  a  more  homely  and 
expressive  simplicity,  "  My  heart  is  disquieted 
within  me,  and  the  fear  of  death  is  fallen  upon 
me.  Tearfulness  and  trembling  are  come  upon 
me,  and  an  horrible  dread  hath  overwhelmed  me." 
The  fear  of  death  is  upon  all  flesh.  It  is  no  sign 
of  manhood  to  be  without  it.  To  overcome  it  in 
the  way  of  duty  is  courage  j  to  meet  death  with 
patience  is  faith  ;  but  not  to  fear  it  is  either  a  gift 
of  special  grace  or  a  dangerous  insensibility.  No 
doubt  great  saints  have  been  able  to  say,  "  I  have 
a  desire  to  depart."     And  many  have  rushed  to 


Serm.  XIX.]        THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  353 

martyrdom,  as  to  the  love  and  bosom  of  their  Lord  : 
but  for  the  rest,  the  multitude  of  His  flock,  who 
are  neither  wilful  sinners,  nor  to  be  numbered 
among  saints,  the  thought  of  death  is  a  thought 
of  fear.  We  see  that,  on  the  first  feeling  of  their 
having  so  much  as  set  foot  in  the  path  leading 
to  the  grave,  even  good  men  feel  the  "  terror  of 
death,*' — "a  horrible  dread,"  which  makes  every 
pulse  to  beat  with  a  hurried  and  vehement  speed. 
Their  whole  nature,  both  in  body  and  in  soul, 
trembles  to  its  very  centre  ;  and  their  heart  is 
*'  disquieted,'*  "  sore  pained,"  within  them. 

Now  why  is  this  ?  Let  us  try  to  analyse  the 
feelings  which  swell  so  tumultuously,  and  to  sepa- 
rate them  into  their  distinct  elements ;  that  is,  let 
us  see  what  are  the  causes  or  reasons  of  this  "  fear 
of  death." 

1.  The  first  must  needs  be  a  consciousness  of 
personal  sinfulness.  A  sense  of  unfitness  to  meet 
God,  our  unreadiness  to  die,  a  multitude  of  per- 
sonal faults,  evil  tempers,  thoughts,  and  inclina- 
tions J  the  recollection  of  innumerable  sins,  of  great 
omissions  and  lukewarmness  in  all  religious  duties, 
the  little  love  or  gratitude  we  have  to  God,  and 
the  great  imperfection  of  our  repentance  ;  —  all 
these  make  us  treml)le  at  the  thought  of  going 
to  give  up  our  account.  We  feel  as  if  it  were 
impossible    we    could    be    saved.       Shame,     fear, 

VOL.   IH.  A  A 


354  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Sehm. 

and   "  a  horrible  dread"   fall  upon  us.     It  is  no 
answer   to    this    to   say,    "  We   are  not  saved   by 
our    own    righteousness,    but    by    the    righteous- 
ness of  Christ.     We   must  look  not  at  ourselves, 
but   at   Him."     This    is    as  true  in  the   abstract 
as   it   may   be    untrue    in   the    application.      We 
must   look    to    ourselves,    when    we    would    know 
whether  we  may  so  forget  ourselves  ;  for  He  Him- 
self has  said,  "  Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  Me, 
Lord,    Lord,    shall    enter    into    the    kingdom    of 
heaven ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  My  Father 
which  is  in  heaven."^     It  is  but  an  empty  saying 
of  "  Lord,  Lord,"  to  talk  of  faith,  and  trust,  and 
the  like,  without  a  real  living  belief  in  Him ;   and 
this  is  to  be  known  and  tested  by  the  facts  of  our 
life.     The  only  cognisable  form  of  faith   is   obe- 
dience ;  and  alas  for  us,  if  we  trust  to  it  in  any 
other   shape.     It    is    said    that    Satan,    who    can 
transform  himself  into  an  angel  of  light,  has  be- 
fore now  come    to  tempt  men   in    many    seeming 
appearances  of  Christ.     But  he  never  has  shewn 
himself  as  upon  the  Cross.     This  one  aspect  is  to 
him  impossible,  because  it  is  divine  and  true.     So 
it  is  with  faith.     We  may  be  tempted  by  a  faith 
of  the  reason,  a  faith  of  the  imagination,  a  faith  of 
pious  desires,  and  a  faith  of  good  intentions.     And 
all  these  may  be  no  more  than  snares.     But  a  faith 

^  Matt.  vii.  21. 


XIX.]  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  3.55 

embodied  in  obedience  is  Divine  faith,  which  Satan 
cannot  feign,  and  by  this  none  can  be  deceived. 

How  few,  then,  when  they  are  called  suddenly 
to  make  ready,  can  say  that  their  faith  has  been 
a  life  of  holy  obedience.  For  the  most  of  us,  we 
must  confess  that  our  sins  are  "  more  in  number 
than  the  sand  of  the  sea."  How,  then,  can  we 
think  of  death  without  fear  ?  whither,  and  to  what 
doom  would  it  carry  us  away  ? 

It  is  very  easy  to  talk  theologically  (and,  there- 
fore, in  one  sense  truly)  on  the  subject  of  our 
acceptance  through  the  blood  of  the  Cross ;  but 
examine  your  hearts  at  the  time  when  you  begin 
to  realise  the  thought  of  being  judged  before  God 
(how  soon  or  when,  you  cannot  tell),  and  say,  whe- 
ther, after  all,  there  is  not  a  feeling  of  most  just 
and  reasonable  fear,  of  which  you  could  not  divest 
your  mind,  without  also  putting  off  a  part  of  your 
regenerate  nature.  Let  any  man  say  to  himself, 
"  I  am  now  going  to  be  judged  before  God  ;"  and  if 
he  knows  and  believes  the  meaning  of  his  words,  it 
is  impossible  he  should  be  without  alarm.  Let  him 
say,  "  Now  all  my  whole  life  must  return  upon  me, 
as  the  consciousness  of  one  moment.  Childhood, 
boyhood,  youth,  manhood,  with  all  their  rciiiciii- 
bered  sins,  and,  still  more  awful,  with  all  tlieir  sins 
now  forgotten."  What  can  be  more  alarming  than 
the  thought  that  the  perpetual  waste  of  memory  is 


356  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm, 

more  profuse  in  nothing  than  in  the  rememhranee 
of  daily  and  hourly  sins  ?  Who  knows  what,  after 
his  often-repeated  confessions,  may  still  be  against 
him  ?  We  shall  know  it  all  when  we  shall  see 
God,  and  in  Him  see  ourselves  j  but  then  will  be 
the  time  not  of  repentance,  but  of  judgment.  How 
often  do  we  discover  some  little  danger,  of  which 
we  are  afraid,  while  others  discern  some  much 
greater  peril,  of  which  we  are  altogether  fear- 
less. How  often,  in  a  sickness,  people  alarm 
themselves  with  trifling  symptoms,  or  take  full 
and  confident  hope  at  trifling  amendments,  when 
some  vast  and  prominent  danger,  unperceived  by 
themselves,  stares  every  body  else  in  the  face.  So 
it  may  be  with  our  souls.  We  see  some  of  our 
sins  ;  we  take  comfort  at  marks  of  a  better  mind  ; 
but  sins  black,  countless,  and  forgotten,  are  bare 
to  the  eyes  of  God,  and  of  His  holy  angels.  This, 
then,  is  one  great  reason  for  fear ;  and  this  explains 
the  common  savino^,  founded  on  a  various  readinf]f  of 
the  first  verse  of  the  ninth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes, 
that  *'  no  man  knows  whether  he  is  worthy  of  love 
or  hatred  ;"  that  is,  at  most,  he  knows  his  own  case 
so  little,  that  after  all  his  hope  and  trust  in  God's 
mercy  through  Christ,  he  cannot  shake  off  a  fear 
that  he  may,  in  the  light  of  God's  presence,  see 
himself  to  be  very  different  from  what  he  believes 
now.     No  one  can  have  used  habitual  self-exami- 


XIX.]  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  357 

nation,  or  watched  the  treacherous  uncertainty 
of  his  memory,  or  measured  the  growth  of  his 
convictions  of  sin,  without  deeply  mistrusting,  at 
every  stage,  his  knowledge  of  himself;  and  feel- 
ing it  very  possible  that  he  may  see  himself  before 
the  throne  of  Christ  to  be  as  far  different  from 
what  he  thinks  now,  as  he  sees  himself  now  to  be 
from  what  he  once  thought  before  his  conversion, 
or  in  the  beofinninofs  of  his  religious  life. 

2.  Another  reason,  closely  following  upon  the 
last,  is  the  consciousness  that  death  is  judgment. 
At  the  death  of  each  several  being,  a  particular 
judgment  upon  the  soul  is  passed  and  recorded 
before  God.  Wherefore  in  the  thought  of  death, 
there  is  an  awful  sense  that  all  is  over,  all  is 
run  out,  wound  up,  sealed,  stamped,  and  bound 
over  for  eternity  :  that  all  the  predestination  of 
God  towards  us  is  fulfilled ;  that  life  is  spent, 
regeneration  has  been  conferred  upon  us,  with 
all  holy  inspirations  of  truth  and  grace,  and  all 
discipline  of  Providence  and  probation ;  that  all 
which  was  once  possible  has  now  become  either 
actual  or  impossible  ;  that  we  have  had  our  time 
and  trial ;  and  that,  for  weal  or  for  woo,  our 
eternal  state  is  fixed  for  ever.  There  is  something 
sorrowful  and  moving  in  the  full  end  of  any  tiling. 
It  is  sad  to  know  for  certain  that  we  shall  ncvcn* 
go  to  any  particular  place  again ;  never  again  see 


358  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

this  or  that  person,  do  such  or  such  definite  act, 
or  hear  a  certain  strain  of  music,  and  the  hke. 
Even  the  end  of  a  hard  toil  is  mixed  with  sad- 
ness. The  words  "no  more,"  "never  again,"  are 
severe  and  melancholy  ;  as  they  know,  above  all, 
who  have  wept  over  their  dead  ;  though  with  them, 
if  they  be  Christ's,  such  words  are  false,  yet  the 
thought  of  a  full  end,  as  if  something  were  ex- 
tinct for  ever,  is  very  sad.  It  clashes  with  the  first 
instinct  of  our  bein"-.  How  much  more  when  that 
which  is  over  is  the  day  of  grace,  the  acceptable 
year  of  the  Lord?  No  more  hopes  and  restings 
on  a  future  amendment ;  no  more  trust,  half- 
blind,  of  a  more  devoted  life  ;  no  more  feasts  or 
fasts  ;  no  more  sacraments  of  cleansing  ;  no  more 
worship  and  adoration ;  no  more  secret  abase- 
ment in  the  sanctuary  ;  no  more  sacrifice  and  com- 
munion at  the  altar ;  no  more  words  of  hope, 
encouragement,  and  comfort ;  no  more  warnings, 
discipline,  and  chastisement ;  all  the  whole  life  of 
grace,  with  all  the  ministries  of  the  Church,  and 
all  the  loving  expostulations  of  God,  have  been 
fully  tried,  exhausted,  and,  for  us,  brought  to  a 
full  end  for  ever.  Such  as  we  are,  such  we  shall 
be  eternally. 

And  when  this  end  is  come,  and  the  revelation 
of  our  doom  is  as  yet  uncertain,  how  can  we  but 
say,  "  Oh,  if  I  had  known,  even  I,  at  least  in  this 


XIX]  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  359 

my  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  my  peace  ;  if 
only  a  little  earlier,  what  sins  should  I  have  avoid- 
ed ;  if  only  I  had  taken  this  warning  or  that  coun- 
sel ;  if  only  I  had  been  more  fearful,  more  fervent, 
more  sincere  :  but  now,  such  as  I  am,  such  I  must 
go,  with  all  these  shreds  and  weeds  of  misery, — 
a  memory  laden  with  sins,  a  soul  darkened  by 
itself,  and  a  heart  beating  itself  asunder  for  fear. 
No  time  now  ;  I  am  on  my  way  to  God.  His  bid- 
ding has  overtaken  me  in  my  present  disorder,  full 
of  active  thought  of  ten  thousand  cares,  under 
which  the  consciousness  of  His  presence  and  will 
lies  buried.  I  am  going  to  hear  that  one  great 
revelation  which,  to  me,  is  heaven  or  hell."  This 
ought  surely  to  abate  the  confidence  with  which 
people  talk  of  dying ;  not  fearing  to  die,  because 
not  knowing  what  death  is.  What  is  it  but  the 
absolute  fulfilment  either  of  God's  will  in  our  sal- 
vation, or  of  our  own  will,  if  sinful,  in  our  perdi- 
tion ?  What  is  it  but  either  the  sealing  of  a  saint, 
or  the  branding  of  a  reprobate  soul  ? 

S.  Thus  far  I  have  spoken  only  of  the  fears 
which  arise  from  the  departure  of  the  soul.  There 
is  also  in  the  body  a  reason  for  fearing  death. 
The  thought  of  pain  and  distress  is  very  search- 
ing. Bodily  pain  is  hard  to  bear.  It  is  ;i  fenrrul 
mystery.  What  is  it?  and  whence  does  it  come? 
God  did  not  make  pain.     It  is  no  part  of  the  first 


360  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

creation,  neither  has  it  any  place  in  the  second. 
There  was  no  pain  in  the  world  which  He  blessed 
in  the  beginning.  His  works  were  all  good,  and 
good  only.  But  among  the  hosts  of  evil,  pain  is 
one  of  the  foremost.  It  is  the  direct  forerunner  of 
death,  and  the  scourge  of  hell.  It  so  penetrates 
the  whole  of  our  being,  that  when  it  enters  one 
part,  it  is  felt  throughout  the  entire  reach  of  our 
consciousness  :  whether  it  be  pain  of  the  body  or 
of  the  soul,  it  has  the  intensity  of  a  focus,  with  an 
universality  which  knows  no  limit  but  our  sensa- 
tion. Who,  then,  can  but  fear  the  pains  of  death  ? 
Who  can  but  tremble  at  the  thought  of  an  unseen 
and  mysterious  power  entering,  against  our  will, 
into  the  depths  of  our  nature,  and  wasting  the 
source  of  life  ?  Pain  is,  in  fact,  the  presence  of 
death  :  and  the  only  question  is  one  of  measure 
and  time,  that  is,  how  soon  it  shall  put  forth  its 
whole  strength,  and  appear  in  its  full  array.  It 
is  a  terrible  thous^ht  to  forebode  the  witherino- 
and  corrupting  of  the  body.  All  men  must  have 
a  last  sickness,  which,  when  once  begun,  either  is 
soon  ended,  or  else  keeps  on  its  stubborn  and 
stealthy  way,  in  spite  of  the  skill  and  science 
of  healing.  It  is  like  a  smouldering  fire,  which, 
when  it  breaks  out,  is  for  a  while  got  under,  and 
yet  by  suppression  is  but  thrown  in,  to  spread 
more   widely  and   deeply    than  before.     So  death 


XIX.]  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  36l 

creeps  on,  under  a  fair  aspect,  till  it  has  gain- 
ed its  entire  hold ;  then  it  unmasks  itself  and 
reigns  supreme.  We  may  well  shrink  from  the 
thought  of  helpless  and  motionless  distress,  pal- 
sied limbs,  clouded  eyes,  broken  speech,  unsteady 
thoughts,  and  an  impotent  will.  Such  are  the 
tokens  of  death  in  its  short  dominion.  Who  does 
not  shrink  from  being  that  from  which  he  has 
shrunk  upon  another's  deathbed  ?  It  is  a  bitter 
humiliation,  with  a  living  consciousness,  to  be 
changed  into  corruption ;  and  to  lie  under  the 
eyes  of  bystanders  as  a  thing  to  be  talked  of  and 
endured. 

4.  Again,  there  is  another  reason  which  is  full 
of  melancholy.  Death  is  the  end  of  a  multitude  of 
pure  and  blessed  enjoyments.  "  A  pleasant  thing 
it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun.'"  Fallen  as 
this  world  is,  it  is  very  beautiful.  The  sky  and  the 
earth,  lights  and  clouds,  colours  and  brightness,  the 
lofty  mountains,  the  teeming  earth,  the  rank  rich 
valleys,  "  the  streams  that  run  among  the  hills," 
evening  and  morning,  the  long  shadows  of  the  east 
and  west,  the  song  of  birds,  and  the  voice  of  all 
thinijs  livinfj,  —  these  are  blessed  and  soothin<'' ; 
much  more  the  softness,  peace,  and  loveliness  which 
is  shed  abroad  upon  the  earthly  homes  of  those  that 
fear  God ;  fond  affections,  close  friendships,  lionds 
'  Eccles.  xi.  7. 


S62  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

of  gratitude  ;  the  joy  of  receiving,  the  blessedness  of 
bestowing  alms  and  kindness  :  but  above  all  these, 
the  bonds  and  order  of  mystical  charity  between 
pastor  and  flock,  friends  in  the  fellowship  of  God, 
between  guests  at  the  same  altar,  penitents  and 
their  guides,  mourners  and  the  messengers  of  conso- 
lation,— all  these  make  up  an  inner  world  of  beauty 
fairer  than  the  fairest  aspect  of  this  outward  crea- 
tion. AYe  may  a  little  understand  what  St.  Paul 
meant  when  he  said,  "  What  mean  ye  to  weep  and 
to  break  mine  heart  ?"  and  what  they  felt  who  "  sor- 
rowed most  of  all  for  the  word  which  he  spake, 
that  they  should  see  his  face  no  more."^ 

Feeble  and  earthly  as  w^e  are,  the  love  of 
earthly  friends  and  the  company  of  others  as  weak, 
or  weaker  than  ourselves,  is  very  soothing.  We 
bear  each  other's  burdens,  are  blind  to  each  other's 
faults  ;  we  make  allowances,  give  dispensations, 
lower  ourselves  to  each  other's  weakness,  and  create 
a  sort  of  unexacting,  compassionate  world,  in  which 
we  help  and  soothe  each  other's  sorrows  and  infir- 
mities. This  is  wonderfully  healing  and  grateful 
to  our  hearts  when  they  are  wounded,  or  bowed 
down,  or  galled  by  a  sense  of  our  own  evils.  We 
take  refuge  in  each  other,  and  in  each  other,  for 
a  while,  forget  ourselves.  Even  sorrows  become 
sources   of  consolation,   by   unsealing   the   deepest 

1  Acts  xix.  38. 


XIX.]  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  363 

affections,  and  laying  foundations  for  the  closest 
sympathies.  All  things  bind  together  those  that 
love  God.  Good  things  by  the  attraction  of  good- 
ness ;  evil  things  by  the  force  of  evil.  And  the 
presence  of  God  on  earth,  in  which  they  "  live  and 
move  and  have  their  being,"  makes  the  very  ele- 
ment of  being,  motion,  and  life  to  be  one  in  all. 
Now,  unless  a  man  be  dead  to  the  world  with  the 
deadness  of  a  solitary,  he  must  feel  these  strong 
bonds  of  love ;  these  links  of  our  common  hu- 
manity, purified  by  the  Incarnation,  that  is,  the 
sympathy  of  the  mystical  body  of  Christ.  Even 
the  professedly  religious,  though  separate  from  all 
the  world  beside,  are  bound  to  their  brotherhood 
with  a  peculiar  intimacy  and  power  of  love.  In- 
deed, as  men  become  dead  to  the  world  at  large, 
these  inner  bonds  of  love  become  more  intense. 
In  one  sense,  life  has  more  blessedness  in  it  to 
those  who  are  most  dead  to  its  allurements.  Tliat 
is  to  say,  it  is  that  very  deadness  which  makes 
their  perception  of  what  is  of  God  in  the  commu- 
nion of  the  faithful  so  sensitive  and  keen. 

Here,  then,  is  another  reason  why  Christians 
cannot  but  fear  death.  It  strips  them  of  a  multi- 
tude of  well-known,  long-tried,  and  familiar  joys. 
When  they  feel  their  summons,  they  begin  to  look 
abroad,  and  to  call  up  round  about  them  all  tlie 
persons  and  the  faces  in  whom  tlioy  delight  j  tlie 


364'  THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

seasons  of  holy  fellowship,  whether  in  joy  or  sor- 
row, the  mutual  service  of  love,  the  acts  and  the 
thoughts  of  united  worship,  of  solace,  aspiration, 
and  hope. 

There  is  something  cheerless  and  solitary  in  the 
thought  of  going  out  from  this  home  of  their  spiri- 
tual life,  and  faring  forth,  one  by  one,  into  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death.  The  thought  of  such  per- 
fect isolation  is  full  of  awe.  I  am,  of  course,  speak- 
ing only  of  the  world  we  leave,  not  that  to  which 
we  go,  of  which  it  will  be  time  to  speak  hereafter. 
We  know  our  present  state,  with  all  its  sorrows  and 
trials,  to  be  blessed  and  soothing.  We  know  not 
to  what  we  may  be  going.  This  state  is  certain  ; 
that,  to  us,  uncertain.  And  to  let  go  all  our  cer- 
tain enjoyments  which  have  supported  us  these 
many  long  years,  from  our  earliest  consciousness, 
through  every  trial  of  life — to  go  out,  as  it  were, 
from  our  kindred  and  our  father's  house  all  alone 
into  the  uncertain  shadows  of  the  grave,  is  mourn- 
ful and  amazing.  It  appeals  peculiarly  to  what  is 
human  in  us,  to  the  vivid  emotions  and  sensations 
of  earthly  though  purified  hearts ;  they  still  sym- 
pathise w'ith  life  and  its  imperfect  realities,  with 
its  sensible  beauty  and  its  visible  affections.  This 
is  another  reason  why  the  approach  of  death  comes 
with  terror  even  upon  religious  minds. 

5.  And,  lastly,  it  may  be  objected,  that  in  what 


XIX.]  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  365 

has  just  been  said,  the  thought  of  the  rest  and 
bliss  of  heaven  ouaht  not  to  have  been  excluded. 
It  may  be  said,  Why  dwell  on  the  beauty  of  earth, 
when  the  departing  are  on  their  way  to  the  glory 
of  heaven  ?  Why  speak  of  earthly  affection  and 
peace,  when  they  are  advancing  to  the  love  and 
rest  of  God  ?  Why  of  loneliness,  when  to  depart 
is  to  be  with  Christ  and  all  His  saints  ?  The 
reasons  are  two  :  first,  because  whatever  judgment 
may  result  by  comparing  them  together,  it  is  never- 
theless certain  that  the  earthly  state  is  in  itself 
absolutely  and  positively  an  object  of  love.  For 
instance,  what  dying  father  ever  left  wife  and  chil- 
dren without  a  sensible  sorrow?  Even  St.  Paul 
said,  "  I  have  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with 
Christ,  which  is  far  better  ;  nevertheless  to  abide 
in  the  flesh  is  more  needful  for  you." 

But  the  other  and  the  truer  reason  is  this,  tliat 
the  reality  of  the  eternal  world  is  so  severe  and 
high,  that,  blessed  though  it  be,  it  is  in  itself  a 
thought  of  awe,  from  which,  while  we  desire  it, 
we  cannot  but  also  shrink. 

Let  any  one  try  to  realise  what  it  would  be,  in 
any  solitary  place,  as  in  a  twilight  church,  or  at 
any  late  hour,  as  in  the  niglit,  when  he  is  in  prayer 
with  every  desire  and  thought  of  his  heart  in  its 
most  fixed  intention, — let  him  conceive  before  liini 
the  form  of  Him  who  came  and  stood  in  tlie  midst 


>(ir)  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH. 


[Serm. 


when  the  doors  were  shut,  or  the  presence  of  an 
holy  angel,  or  the  countenance  of  the  most  beloved 
amono-  departed  saints  ;  even  though  such  a  vision 
should  approach  with  all  the  tokens  of  tender, 
compassionate  love,  with  the  condescensions  and 
humiliations  of  a  Divine  pity,  would  it  not  smite 
us  to  the  earth  as  dead  ?  Such  a  meetins"  of  our 
earthly  consciousness  w  ith  their  exalted  spirit  would 
almost  break  down  the  powers  of  the  mind  and  of 
life.  What,  then,  must  be  that  change,  when  the 
eyes  which  close  upon  nurses  and  weeping  friends, 
and  the  ministries  of  pity,  shall  open  upon  an  "  in- 
numerable company  of  angels,"  the  "  Church  of  the 
first-born  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  God  the 
Judge  of  all  ?"  We  may  trust  that  in  the  passage, 
God,  through  His  tenderness,  will  endow  the  soul 
with  a  firmness  of  spiritual  sight  and  being  which 
shall  endure  the  revelation  of  majesty  and  glory. 
But  judging,  as  we  must,  by  the  conditions  and  pre- 
sumptions of  our  present  consciousness,  we  must  be 
penetrated  with  a  sense  of  the  unutterable  dread 
which  must  attend  on  such  a  transit.  Blessed  as 
these  things  are  in  themselves,  they  are  blessed 
only  to  those  who  are  in  a  spiritual  capacity  to  per- 
ceive and  embrace  their  blessedness.  And  is  this 
our  state  ?  On  what  do  we  found  our  belief  that  we 
are  meet  for  this  vision  of  eternal  light  ?  Surelv, 
if  we  know  ourselves,  and  the  clinging  sympathies 


XIX.]  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  367 

with  which  we  hold  to  the  infirmities  of  life,  we 
must  confess  that  nothing  but  new  spiritual  endow- 
ments will  suffice  to  sustain  us  under  this  effluence 
of  the  Divine  glory.  In  saying  this,  nothing  is 
detracted  from  the  love,  tenderness,  compassion  of 
our  Divine  Lord,  and  of  God,  who  is  love.  I  am 
speaking  only  of  that  Majesty  before  which  the 
beloved  disciple  fell  as  dead  ;  of  the  unimaginable 
aw'e  with  which  even  the  least  of  all  saints  and  the 
last  of  the  angelic  hosts  would  strike  us.  How 
much  more  the  whole  hierarchy  of  heaven,  the  ga- 
thered election  of  God's  people,  the  visible  presence 
of  the  Word  made  flesh,  the  uncreated  splendour 
of  the  Godhead ! 

These  seem  to    be    some  of  the    reasons  why 
the  thought  of  dying  is  so  alarming  at  first  to  all. 
Can  it  be  otherwise  when  you  are  brought  to  say, 
"  Now  it  is  mij  tui'n ;    now  He  has  sent  for  iiic ; 
now  all  my  life  is  at  a  stand  ;    all  things  fall  off 
from  me  as  if  they  had  nothing  in  me :  I  seem  to 
stand  alone,  and  no  one  can  come  near  me ;    the 
kindest  friend  cannot  so  much  as  touch  me  now ; 
my  soul  has  withdrawn  itself  out  of  his  reach  into 
my  inmost  self ;    and   there  is  only  one    thought 
upon  which  I  can  throw  myself,  and  that  is,  the 
love  of  God  in  His   Son  Jesus  Christ.     My  sin- 
fulness   overwhelms   me  ;    I   am   full   of   fc:ir   tliat 
I  have  been  flattering  myself,   and   that  my  soul 


368  THE  FEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Srrm. 

in  God's  sight  has  ten  thousand  stains  where  I 
see  one  ;  that  where  I  remember  ten,  I  have  for- 
gotten ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand.  But  now 
the  time  of  repentance  and  self-chastisement  is 
over  :  all  that  can  be  done  for  eternity  is  done  for 
ever ;  and  on  the  strength  of  this  most  imperfect 
preparation,  I  must  go  and  hear  the  sentence  of 
my  everlasting  lot.  It  is  fearful  to  lie  down  upon 
a  death-bed,  and  to  give  up  myself  to  the  power 
of  corruption.  Who  knows  what  may  be  the  last 
straits  and  anguish  of  my  passage  ?  Even  He  who 
gave  Himself  for  me  shrunk  from  the  sharpness 
of  death.  *  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ; 
and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished.' 
Moreover,  it  is  sad  to  go  alone  from  all  I  hold 
so  dear ;  and  my  whole  soul  shrinks  from  the 
realities  of  the  world  unseen.  To  dust  and  ashes, 
to  a  worm,  and  a  sinner,  such  as  I,  it  is  terrible 
to  die.  '  My  heart  is  disquieted  within  me,  and 
the  fear  of  death  hath  fallen  upon  me.'  " 

I  do  not  know  that  there  is  either  religion  or 
safetv  in  trying  to  throw  off  such  thoug-hts  as  these. 
They  are  plainly  real  and  true.  They  are  evi- 
dently founded  both  on  revelation  and  on  the  con- 
sciousness of  our  regenerate  nature.  Their  office 
is,  to  penetrate  us  with  a  holy  fear,  which  is  akin 
to  abasement,  to  pure  and  humble  confession,  to 
devout  and  earnest  prayer,   and  to   a  repentance 


XIX]       THE  TEARFULNESS  OF  DEATH.        369 

both  perfect  in  its  extent,  and  fervent  in  its  spirit. 
On  this  fear  of  death  is  raised  the  best  and  surest 
preparation  for  our  last   passage.     The  more  we 
feel  it,  the  more  we  realise  in  truth  the  change 
that  is  before  us.     Above  all  things,  then,  let  us 
avoid  false  comforts,  which  excite  the  heart,  and 
make  the  pulses  beat  for  a  while  with  a  fictitious 
hope.     Let  us  avoid  all  high  feelings,  and  attempts 
to   persuade  ourselves  that  we  are   what   we   are 
not ;   that  God  is  not  what  He  is ;  and  that  the 
first  meeting   of  a  sinner  with   Ilim  can  be  any 
thing  but  awful.     If  there  is  one  thing  more  essen- 
tial than  any  other  to  deep  repentance,  true  peace, 
and  to  a  holy  death,   it  is  perfect   truth,   perfect 
reality  in  these  first  perceptions.     They  are  surely 
gifts    of   God,    issuing    out    of    the    dictates   and 
discernment   of  our  spiritual   consciousness.     Let 
us  thoroughly  receive   them  into  our  heart  j  and 
though    they    brood  in    darkness,   from    the  sixth 
hour  unto  the  ninth,  over  the  whole  face  of  our 
soul,  we  may  be  sure,  without  a  wavering  of  doubt, 
that   in    His   good    time    we    shall,    through    the 
darkness,  see  the  Cross,  and  upon  it  the   Son  of 
God,  pierced  for  us,  our  spotless  sacrifice,  our  per- 
fect atonement  with  the  Father. 


VOL.  in.  B  K 


SERMON  XX. 


THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH. 


PlIILIPPIANS  i.  23. 

"  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to 
be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better." 

Let  us  never  forget  whose  words  these  were,  and 
what  he  was  who  spoke  them.  They  are  the  words 
of  a  saint  and  an  apostle,  at  the  end  of  a  long  life 
of  love  and  patience  for  Christ's  sake.  After  he 
had  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things, — name,  honour, 
reputation,  friends,  rest,  and  home, — and  for  thirty 
years  had  borne  stonings  and  the  scourge,  ship- 
wreck and  the  daily  peril  of  death,  he  could  well 
say,  "  I  have  a  desire  to  depart."  With  a  great 
sum  obtained  he  this  freedom.  It  is  well  to  re- 
member this,  that  we  be  not  either  cast  down  at 
our  conscious  inability  to  speak  as  he  did,  or,  what 
would  be  much  worse,  tempted  to  use  such  words 


Serm.  XX.]  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  371 

too  soon.  For  us  humbler  thoughts  are  more  in 
keeping.  Nevertheless,  the  same  desire  which  was 
so  ardent  in  him  may  be  kindled  in  our  hearts.  If 
we  cannot  burn  with  love,  the  flax  may  at  least 
smoke.  In  our  shallow  capacity,  and  at  a  distance 
not  to  be  measured,  we  may  desire  Avith  fear  what 
he  yearned  for  with  such  unclouded  longings.  His 
desire  is,  at  least,  to  us  an  example  of  what  ours 
ought  to  be  ;  and  as  such  we  may  set  it  before  us 
as  a  pattern. 

With  this  view,  then,  let  us  consider  what  are 
the  reasons  for  this  desire.  They  must  needs  be 
quick  and  powerful,  not  only  to  cast  out  the  fear 
of  death,  but  to  change  it  into  aspiration.  And 
in  so  doing,  we  will  take,  not  the  special  reasons 
peculiar  to  martyrs  and  apostles,  but  such  as  are 
universal,  and  within  the  spiritual  reach  of  all  who 
are  born  again  through  Christ. 

Why,  then,  should  departure  out  of  this  life  be 
an  object  of  desire  to  a  Christian  ? 

1.  First,  because  it  is  a  full  release  from  this 
evil  world.  There  is  something  very  expressive  in 
the  word  we  here  render  by  '  depart.'  It  means 
the  being  set  free,  after  tlie  breaking  up  of  some 
long  restraint ;  or  the  unyoking  of  the  oxen  wearied 
with  the  plough  ;  or  the  weighing  again  of  our 
anchors  for  a  homeward  voyage.  On  every  side  its 
associations  are  full  of  peace  and  rest.     What  can 


372  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Seiim. 

better  express  the  passage  of  Christ's  servants  from 
this  tumultuous  and  weary  world  ?  The  longer  we 
dwell  in  it,  the  more  cause  w^e  must  see  to  shrink 
from  its  temptations.  I  speak  not  only  of  sick- 
ness and  pain,  of  crosses  and  hardship,  bereave- 
ments and  afflictions,  and  the  bitterness  of  adver- 
sity ;  these  are  sensible  evils,  which  all  men  desire 
to  be  rid  of.  Sometimes  they  even  revile  their  tardy 
life,  because  they  are  impatient  of  the  rod.  To  be 
free  from  all  trial  would  be  indeed  blessed.  But 
these  are  not  the  things  which  make  true  Christians 
desire  to  depart.  They  look  on  them  as  part  of 
their  Master's  Cross,  and  count  themselves  happy 
to  bear  so  much  as  its  shadow.  Their  true  afflic- 
tion is  the  presence  of  sin ;  its  fiery  assaults  with- 
out, its  alluring  subtilty  wdthin. 

Is  it  not  wonderful  that  men  wdio  immoderately 
fear  death,  should  have  no  fears  of  life  ?  To  die, 
is  in  the  last  degree  alarming  to  many ;  but  to  live, 
is  as  free  from  alarm  as  if  it  were  impossible  to  fall 
from  God.  This  shews  us  how  little  we  realise  the 
world  in  which  we  are,  and  the  sin  which  dwells 
in  our  hearts.  Is  it  possible  that  we  can  be  so 
blind  to  the  snares  which  are  on  every  side  ?  Are 
the  nets  of  the  fowder  so  frail  that  we  have  no 
fear  of  them,  or  so  fine  that  we  cannot  see  where 
they  lie  ?  Is  it  not  certain  that  no  man  can  pro- 
mise to  himself  the  gift  of  perseverance  j  and  that 


XX.]        THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.        373 

all  his  life  long,  the  enmity  of  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil,  "  the  blast  of  the  terrible  ones,  is 
as  a  storm  against  the  wall  ?'"  Do  we  not  console 
fathers  and  mothers  who  weep  over  the  early  death 
of  children,  by  telling  them  that  their  young  spirits 
are  sainted,  and  that  God  has,  in  mercy,  come 
between  them  and  the  defilements  of  this  naughty 
world?  We  bid  them  remember,  that  in  a  few 
short  years  those  they  mourn  might  have  lost  their 
baptismal  innocence,  and  sullied  their  fresh  purity 
of  heart.  We  bid  them  be  consoled  because  now 
they  know  that  their  loved  ones  are  safe,  following 
"  the  Lamb  whithersoever  He  goeth  ;"  and  God 
alone  could  foresee  what  might  have  been  the 
career  and  end  of  a  longer  life.  And  what  docs 
all  this  mean  but  that  this  is  a  perilous  world  and 
full  of  evil?  Who,  then,  shall  dare  not  to  fear  it? 
Who  can  say  into  what  he  may  fall,  or  how  he  may 
be  led  astray  ;  how  he  may  fall  into  the  snare  of 
the  enemy,  or  under  the  illusions  of  his  own  mind  ? 
what  declensions,  what  spiritual  deteriorations  may 
wither  us  from  the  very  root?  Indeed,  we  shall 
not  be  safe  if  we  leave  off  to  fear  any  peril  to  the 
salvation  of  the  soul.  So  long  as  we  are  in  this 
warfare,  we  must  be  open  to  the  shafts  of  evil ;  and 
who  would  not  desire  a  shelter  where  no  arrows  can 
reach  us  any  more?  What  must  be  the  peace  of 
•  Isaiali  XXV.  4. 


S74  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

having  put  ofl"  this  mystery  of  probation  ;  when  the 
struggle  and  the  strife  shall  be  over,  and  breath- 
less, panting  hope,  dashed  by  ten  thousand  fears, 
shall  be  changed  into  a  certainty  of  peace,  into  a 
foretaste  of  our  crown !  This  one  thought  alone  is 
enough  to  make  death  blessed.  Let  us  muse,  as 
we  say  to  om'selves,  "  I  shall  then  be  landed  on  the 
everlasting  shore,  no  more  again  to  fear  any  fall 
from  God.  All  will  be  changeless  and  eternal." 
Nay,  putting  all  this  aside,  who  will  not  yearn  to 
be  free  from  the  disorder  and  contradiction  of  a 
world  that  has  rebelled  against  God,  and  "  cruci- 
fied the  Lord  of  glory  ?"  Is  this  a  home  for  any 
soul  that  is  united  with  Him  in  love  ?  So  long  as 
He  wills,  it  is  our  home,  not  of  choice  but  of  obe- 
dience, not  of  desire  but  of  patience.  Our  Lord 
has  said,  "  I  pray  not  that  Thou  shouldest  take 
them  out  of  the  world,  but  that  Thou  shouldest 
keep  them  from  the  evil."  So  long  as  He  wills, 
we  remain  content. 

But  it  is  an  awful  sentence  :  "  Every  man  that 
will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  sutfer  persecu- 
tion." This  is  to  tell  us  that  the  world  is  unchange- 
ably at  enmity  with  God.  A  man  need  only  declare 
himself  on  God's  side,  to  bring  the  world  upon 
him.  But  even  this  power  and  kingdom  of  the 
devil  is  our  discipline  of  patience  and  perfection, 
of  sufferinof  and   submission.     It  is  the  school  of 


XX.]        THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.         375 

martyrs  and  of  saints.  Nevertheless,  to  depart 
from  it,  by  the  will  of  God,  is  blessed.  And 
besides  all  this,  what  is  our  life  on  earth  at  best, 
but  a  life  of  clouds  and  shifting  lights  ;  that  is,  of 
trust,  and  faith  in  mysteries,  of  which  we  see  only 
the  outer  surface  ?  A  veil  is  spread  over  the  face 
even  of  the  Church,  through  which  the  realities  of 
the  hereafter  are  faintly  discerned.  There  is,  in- 
deed, a  special  benediction  on  all  who  believe  with- 
out seeing  ;  and  yet  the  blessing  is  still  greater  of 
those  who,  having  believed,  afterwards  behold  j  for 
the  reward  of  faith  is  vision.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  greatest  earthly  solace  and  the  most  hum- 
bling thoughts  come  hand  in  hand.  When  we  are 
in  the  sanctuary,  there,  if  any  where  on  earth,  we 
have  peace.  And  yet  it  is  there  we  are  taught, 
by  visible  sacraments  and  a  veiled  presence,  that 
we  are  impotent  and  sinful ;  unable  and  unworthy 
to  see  His  face.  Our  highest  boon  is  a  memorial 
of  our  fall.  Our  own  hearts,  with  many  tongues, 
bear  witness  of  our  sin,  and  of  our  unworthiness  to 
touch  His  feet.  Even  in  repentance  we  tremble, 
lest  our  repentance  be  found  wanting  ;  in  our  most 
recollected  prayers  we  are  half  insensible  and  lialf 
unconscious ;  in  our  purest  obedience  our  hearts 
throb  with  a  multitude  of  thoughts ;  our  faitli, 
hope,  charity,  are  all  tinged  with  emotions  of  self; 
our  most  intent  communion,  even  at  the  altar,  is 


376  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

faint  and  fleeting.  We  see  the  outlines  and  the 
order  of  the  heavenly  court  rather  by  the  imagina- 
tion than  by  the  vision  of  the  spirit.  And  our 
whole  earthly  life,  even  at  best,  is  weariness  and 
twilight,  strife  and  conscious  infirmity,  great  hopes 
and  greater  fears,  high  intentions  and  bare  fulfil- 
ments, dust  and  ashes,  and  conscious  exile  from 
the  enjoyment  of  God.  Well  may  evangelists  say, 
*'  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly ;"  and  souls 
already  martyred,  like  St.  Paul,  desire  to  depart. 
Even  to  us  it  may  be  permitted  to  feel  our  hearts 
beat  thick  with  hopeful  and  longing  fear,  when  we 
wait  for  the  voice  which  shall  say  to  the  least  of 
penitents,  "  Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and 
come  away;  for,  lo,  the  winter  is  past:" — sorrow 
and  sin,  anguish  and  cold  fear,  dark  days  and 
lingering  nights,  penance  after  sins,  and  sins  after 
repentance,  dim  faith  and  failing  perseverance  — 
all  these  are  past;  "the  rain  is  over  and  gone." 
*'  Come  with  me  from  Lebanon ;  look  from  the 
top  of  Amana,  from  the  top  of  Shenir  and  Her- 
mon,"'  unto  the  everlasting  hills  and  to  the  eternal 
years. 

2.  Thus  far  we  have  spoken  of  the  desire  to 
depart  which  springs  from  a  longing  to  be  set  free 
from  sorrow  and  an  evil  world ;  from  the  tempta- 
tions and  burdens  of  mortality,  which  weigh  upon 

1  Song  of  Sol.  ii.  10,  11;  iv.  8. 


XX.]  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  377 

the  soul.  But  these  are  the  nether,  not  the  upper 
springs  of  such  desires.  St.  Paul  thrice  desired  of 
the  Lord  that  the  thorn  in  the  flesh  might  depart 
from  him ;  and  yet  it  was  not  to  leave  this  be- 
hind that  he  desired  to  depart.  His  were  positive 
longings  for  the  fruition  of  bliss.  And  in  his  se- 
cond Epistle  to  the  Church  in  Corinth,  he  has  fully 
uttered  his  desire.  "  We  know  that  if  our  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a 
building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  with  hands, 
eternal  in  the  heavens.  For  in  this  we  groan, 
earnestly  desiring  to  be  clothed  upon  with  our 
house  which  is  from  heaven :  if  so  be  that  beinff 
clothed,  we  shall  not  be  found  naked.  For  we  that 
are  in  this  tabernacle  do  groan,  being  burdened : 
not  for  that  zae  raoiild  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon, 
that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of  life."^ 
His  desire  was  for  the  spiritual  body  raised  in 
power  and  ineorruption  at  the  day  of  Christ ;  and, 
meanwhile,  for  lliat  personal  perfection  in  nicasun^ 
and  foretaste,  which  is  jjrcparcd  for  those  who  die 
in  the  Lord,  and  await  His  coming. 

What  is  the  misery  and  the  burden  of  a  fallen 
nature,  we  know.  What  a  yoke  is  our  own  unwill- 
ingness to  serve  God  ;  —  that  strange  self-contradic- 
tion, in  which  we  intend  what  we  do  not  fuliil,  and 
begin  what  we  leave  undone,  and  desire  what  we 

'  2  Cor.  V.  1-4. 


378  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

shrink  from.  AVc  will,  and  we  will  not.  We  have, 
as  it  were,  two  wills  ;  like  the  fable  of  the  two  ser- 
pents which  preyed  on  either  side  of  a  man's  heart ; 
a  will  divided  against  itself ;  its  superior  part  de- 
creeing obedience,  its  sensitive  shrinking  from  the 
task.  What  a  mystery  is  personal  imperfection, 
and  the  image  of  God  upon  which  it  fastens. 
Who  does  not  desire  to  be  unclothed,  and  yet  still 
more  "to  be  clothed  upon?"  Is  it  not  strange 
that  the  sick  should  shrink  from  perfect  health ; 
that  they  should  be  so  enamoured  of  decay,  that 
they  are  unwilling  to  be  w^hole  ?  Perhaps  it  is 
that  we  do  not,  and  cannot,  realise  the  thought 
that  we  shall  one  day  be  without  sin ;  that,  in 
the  kingdom  of  God,  our  w^iole  soul  and  our 
whole  being  wall  be  in  as  perfect  and  pure  a  har- 
mony wdth  God  as  the  hosts  of  angels.  It  seems 
a  dream,  or  the  imagination  of  a  heated  brain, 
that  we  who  have  sinned,  as  we  bitterly  remem- 
ber, who  have  walked  in  wilful  darkness,  soiling 
ourselves  to  the  very  seat  of  life,  and  making  our 
whole  being  an  energetic  discord  with  the  holi- 
ness of  God; — I  say,  it  sounds  as  something  of 
almost  presumptuous  aspiration,  to  conceive  that, 
one  day,  we  shall  be  in  body  deathless,  and  in 
soul  without  a  spot.  Verily  we  are  "like  unto 
them  that  dream ;"  but  it  is  as  the  dream  of  pro- 
phets,  full   of  truth   and   God.     We   may  say  to 


XX.]        THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.        379 

ourselves,  "  Through  the  tears  of  repentance,  and 
the  blood  of  the  Cross,  there  will  come  a  time  when 
I  shall  love  God  with  all  my  strength,  and  His 
saints  even  as  myself;  when  my  whole  desire  will 
be  His  glory,  and  my  whole  energy  His  praise  ; 
when  the  vision  of  His  presence  shall  be  my  end- 
less peace,  and  to  adore  Him  my  ineffable  delight. 
In  that  sphere  of  bliss  all  consciousness  of  self  will 
be  extinct ;  and  in  the  blessedness  of  others  I  shall 
find  my  bliss.  To  contemplate  the  glory  of  His 
elect,  and  to  sit  beneath  their  feet,  will  be  more 
blissful  then,  than  to  be  exalted  is  alluring  now." 
O  wonderful  mystery  of  love !  To  forgive  all  our 
guilt  is  beyond  our  understanding  ;  to  change  our 
corruption  into  the  purity  of  angels  is  almost  be- 
yond our  faith.  Who  would  not  desire  the  struggle 
of  death  to  be  over,  that  he  might  be  perfect  ?  who 
would  not  long,  if  only  he  could  believe  his  sins 
forgiven,  to  go  and  to  be  sinless  in  the  kingdom  of 
God  ?  What  thought  more  intensely  joyful,  what 
so  inspiring  to  the  holiest  of  God's  servants  ?  what 
more  full  of  strength  and  solace  to  the  tempted  and 
the  penitent  ?  If  St.  Paul  had  a  desire  to  depart, 
whose  whole  soul  was  under  the  sway  of  an  ardent 
and  holy  will,  what  ought  to  be  our  desire  of  re- 
lease from  the  dominion  of  corruption  ?  Surely 
of  all  earthly  sorrows  sin  is  t]u3  sharpest.  The 
heaviest   of  all  burdens  is  the   bondage  of  a  will 


380  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

which  makes  God's  service  a  weary  task,  and  our 
homage  of  love  a  cold  observance. 

3.  And  this  leads  to  another  reason  why  to  de- 
part is  blessed.  It  unites  us  for  ever  with  the  new 
creation  of  God.  It  is  for  this  that  the  world  has 
waited,  and  the  whole  creation  groaned  and  tra- 
vailed in  pain  together.  What  is  this  new  crea- 
tion, but  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth,  in 
w^hich  are  gathered  the  whole  order  and  lineage  of 
the  second  Adam  ;  all  saints  from  Abel  the  just, 
of  all  ages  and  times,  in  the  twilight  and  the  day- 
spring,  in  the  morning  and  the  noontide  of  grace ; 
all  made  perfect,  whether  on  earth  or  in  rest,  by 
the  omnipotence  of  love  ?  This  is  our  true  home  ; 
where  all  our  reason,  all  our  desires,  all  our  sym- 
pathies, and  all  our  love,  have  their  perfect  sphere 
and  their  full  repose. 

In  this  life,  even  the  best  things  are  crossed 
and  marred  with  imperfection.  We  are  sensibly  in 
exile  from  some  state  for  which  our  souls  are  crav- 
ing, though  still  unprepared.  What  is  the  fastest 
friendship,  the  most  intimate  union,  the  fondest 
love,  to  the  unity  of  saints?  What  is  our  best 
earthly  state,  but  the  sum  of  our  individual  imper- 
fections ?  and  what  the  condition  of  the  blessed,  but 
a  perfection  in  which  all  are,  therefore,  perfect? 
Can  we  think,  without  an  awful  feelinof  of  deliijht, 
that  we  shall  enjoy  the  vision  of  those  friends  of 


XX.]  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  381 

God  who  are  exalted  in  the  hierarchy  of  His  love ; 
that  we  shall  not  only  behold,  but  love  them  with 
a  love  we  as  3'et  have  never  known  for  friend  or 
child  ?     It  makes  our  hearts  thrill  even  to  read 
their  names  and  their  deeds  in  holy  writ ;  what  will 
it  be  to  converse  with  them,  to  hear  the  very  tones 
and   accents  which   were  heard  in  the  wilderness 
and  on  Carmel,  at  Bethlehem  and  by  Jordan,  at 
Philippi  and  at  Ephesus  ?     If  the  savour  of  their 
lives,  their  words,  their  writings,  even  while  they 
were  imperfect  here  on  earth,  be  so  sweet  to  us, 
what  shall  their   presence  be  when  they  and  we 
arc  without  spot  or  blemish  ?     What  a  fellowship, 
and  what  orace  that  we  may  share  it !     We  are 
bidden  to  that  marriage  festival.     In  all  that  host 
of  hallowed  souls,   there  will  not  be  so  much  as 
one  motion  or  inclining  of  the  will  from  the  will 
of  God.     All  will  be  harmony.     As  the  countless 
voices  of  the  great  deep  unite  in  its  majestic  swell, 
so  in  the   depth  of  life   all   living  spirits  shall  bo 
several,  and  yet  one  eternally.      What  shall  it  be 
to  behold  those  who  have  been  chosen  of  God  to 
work  toiicther  with   llim  in  the  salvation  of  the 
world  ;   as  witnesses  and  forerunners,   as  types   of 
sanctity  and  the  Cross,  as  stones  of  foundation, — 
yea,   even   to  minister,   under    the    sliiidow  (»("  iIk; 
Holy  Ghost,  as  she  the  ever-blessed  Mary  (if  licr 
very   substance   to  the    incarnation  ol'  tlie    second 


38'2  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

Adam  ?  AVc  believe  these  things,  and  we  confess 
them  in  chants  and  creeds  ;  but  how  little  do  we 
lay  to  heart,  that  one  day,  if,  through  the  ador- 
able passion  of  our  blessed  Lord,  we  guilty  may 
behold  His  face,  we  shall  dwell  among  them  in  a 
fellowship  of  direct  vision  and  love,  as  we  dwell 
now  among  our  kindred  here  on  earth !  O  miracle 
of  peace  !  How  majestic  and  how  glorious  must  be 
that  heavenly  court,  in  which  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
Mother  of  God,  and  all  His  ancients,  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  apostles  and  evangelists,  martyrs  and 
saints,  are  gathered  in  sanctity  and  love  !  We  can- 
not but  shrink  with  fear  at  the  thought  of  their 
perfection  and  our  sin  ;  and  feel  that,  if  we  were 
suddenly  called,  we  should  have  no  sympathy  with 
them,  nor  they  with  us.  And  yet  there  would  be 
sympathy  with  us,  and  love — even  there,  even  in 
the  presence  of  eternal  glory,  among  the  hosts  of 
the  blessed.  For  will  not  every  redeemed  soul  live 
each  in  the  other's  joy  ?  Will  not  our  own  lamented 
and  beloved  be  there,  in  the  array  of  happy  spi- 
rits ?  Will  they  not  hail,  if  we  reach  the  shore, 
our  coming  with  delight  ?  Do  they  not  remember 
us  now,  even  in  the  sight  of  God  ?  For  to  see 
His  face  does  not  extinguish  but  perfect  all  holy 
loves.  God's  love  gathers  up  and  perfects  all 
pure  love  like  His  own,  all  love  that  is  for  His 
sake.     When  we  meet   our   beloved  in  Him,  we 


XX.]  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  383 

shall  both  know  and  love  them  so  as  we  have  nei- 
ther loved  or  known  before.  Even  earthly  hap- 
piness will  be  renewed  in  its  absolute  perfection, 
and  made  eternal  in  the  fruition  of  God.  If  to 
dwell  amonof  the  holv  and  lovin"',  the  wise  and  ten- 
der,  be  blessed ;  then  most  to  be  desired  is  that 
change  which  shall  carry  us  thither,  where  the 
lowest  is  an  anfrel  of  God.  We  do  not  enouofh 
realise  this  blessed  mystery,  "  the  communion  of 
saints."  If  we  meditate  upon  it,  we  shall  see  that 
the  highest  force  of  the  second  great  commandment 
of  love  must  bind  us  above  all  to  love  the  saints  de- 
parted. For  they  are  the  holiest,  the  most  endowed 
with  grace,  the  nearest,  the  most  familiar  with 
God.  On  them,  next  after  Him,  our  love,  by  the 
law  of  its  own  perfection,  must  repose.  Blessed 
exchange,  to  pass  from  the  tumultuous  imperfec- 
tion of  the  visible  Church,  to  the  stillness  and 
perfection  of  the  Church  beyond  the  grave. 

If  only  the  heavy  consciousness  of  guilt  were 
lifted  off,  what  should  make  us  tarry  here  ?  What 
hopes  or  what  hereafter,  what  aspirations  or  what 
schemes,  what  powers  or  what  gifts  of  life,  would 
make  us  rather  linger  for  one  day  than  enter  the 
home  of  the  redeemed,  the  rest  of  the  saints  of 
God? 

4.  But  lastly,  and  above  ;ill,  h;t  iis  l;ik(!  St. 
Paul's  full  words.      lie  did  not  oiilv  s;iv,  "  I  hnve 


384  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

a  desire  to  depart ;"  but  also,  "  and  to  be  with 
Christ."  This  is  the  true  fountain  of  heavenly- 
joy.  "To  be  with  Christ;"  that  is,  with  Him 
who  is  "  altogether  lovely,"^  and  beautiful  before 
the  sons  of  men  :  —  to  be  with  Him  who  loves  us ; 
whom  also  we  love  again  ;  who  loves  us  with  a 
love  above  all  human  intensity,  and  whom  we 
love  in  turn,  if  we  dare  so  speak,  with  a  love 
before  which  all  human  affections  melt  away.  If, 
indeed,  we  could  say  this,  if  only  we  dared  to 
think  that  we  could  leave  all  and  lose  all  for  love 
■of  Him: — if  this  were  so,  then  the  thought  of 
departure  would  be  blessed.  Then  we  might  say, 
"  Life  and  God's  world  are  beautiful :  the  light 
of  the  sun  is  sweet,  friends  are  dear,  and  home 
is  more  sweet  than  all ;  but  there  is  One  more 
beautiful,  more  sweet,  more  loved  ;  and  to  Him 
I  desire  to  go,  with  Him  to  be."  If  we  could 
say  this,  if  we  could  feel  it  in  the  inmost  soul  of 
our  heart.  To  be  with  Him,  to  see  His  face,  to 
follow  Him  whithersoever  He  goeth ;  to  be  con- 
scious of  His  eye ;  to  hear,  it  may  be,  His  words  of 
love ;  to  see  the  gathered  fruit  of  His  Passion  in 
the  glory  of  His  elect ;  to  be  filled  with  a  living 
consciousness  that  the  work  of  His  love  has  been 
for  ever  made  perfect  in  ourselves  :  what,  if  not 
this,  is  heaven  ?  It  is  only  our  dull  love  of  this 
1  Song  of  Sol.  V.  16. 


XX.]        THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.        385 

world,  or  our  blindness  of  heart,  or,  alas,  our  con- 
sciousness of  penetrating  guilt,  which  makes  this 
desire  of  saints  a  thought  of  fear  to  us.  We  fear 
the  meeting  of  our  darkness  with  His  light,  not 
knowing  what  may  be  revealed  both  in  us  and 
against  us.  But  for  this,  how  blessed  to  go  to 
dwell  in  Him  for  ever  ! 

What,  then,  shall  we  do  to  make  ready  for  that 
hour  ?  There  is  one  thin^r  which  is  enoufjh.  Let 
US  go  to  Him  now.  Let  us  live  in  Him  by  holy 
obedience,  and  by  continual  prayer.  It  is  prayer 
that  makes  us  love  and  desire  His  presence  un- 
veiled. If  we  knew  that  He  was  on  earth,  sitting 
'*  at  meat  in  the  house,"  should  wc  dare  to  go  to 
Him  ?  What  should  we  do  ?  should  we  not  desire 
and  yet  fear  to  go  ?  Would  not  our  hearts  beat 
backwards  and  forwards,  with  a  trust  in  His  ex- 
ceeding tenderness,  and  a  "  liorril)le  dread"  of  our 
own  guilt  ?  Should  we  not  desire,  and,  at  last, 
should  wc  not  dare  to  go  and  stand  beliind  Him, 
— not  to  mcH't  His  eye,  as  unworthy  to  come  into 
His  sight,  but  to  draw  near  to  Him  in  shame  and 
tears  ?  Would  it  not  be  a  consolation  to  be  in  His 
presence  ?  Should  we  not  feel  ourselves  half  for- 
given, shielded  altogether  from  the  power  of  sin,  if 
it  were  only  by  being  where  He  is  ?  It  is  strange 
what  relief  we  feel  from  fears  when  we  come  into 
the  ])resence  of  those  we  dread.      It  seems  to  take 

VOL.   111.  c  c 


SS6  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  [Serm. 

off  half  the  terror,  by  taking  away  all  the  waiting 
and  foreboding.  Would  He  cast  us  out  ?  He  has 
said  Himself,  "  Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in 
no  wise  cast  out.'*  Would  He  say,  Thou  art  a  sin- 
ner ?  Would  He  say.  Touch  Me  not  ?  A^^ould  He 
not  rather  say,  Come  unto  Me.  Thou  art  heavy- 
laden,  but  thou  art  wounded  with  fear  and  sorrow. 
Thou  art  sincere  at  last ;  come,  and  sin  no  more. 
—  So  may  we  trust  it  will  be  hereafter.  Perhaps 
the  poor  Magdalene  little  thought  to  kiss  His  feet, 
when  she  first  drew  near  to  Him.  She  came  to 
anoint  them  in  reverence ;  but  His  love  cast  out 
her  fear.  So  it  may  be  with  you,  when  the  word 
is  brought,  "  The  Master  is  come,  and  calleth  for 
thee."  At  first,  thick  bursts  of  fear  beat  full  upon 
the  heart,  and  life  seems  to  come  down  like  a 
waterflood,  in  an  overwhelming  consciousness  of 
sin  ;  it  seems  impossible  that  you  should  see  His 
face  and  live.  But  we  may  trust  that  He  will  so 
inspire  us  with  the  persuasion  of  His  love  to  sin- 
ners, that  we  may  insensibly  draw  near,  until  we 
are  bold  in  faith  to  touch,  even  to  embrace.  His 
feet,  in  silent  and  imploring  faith.  Let  this  be 
your  daily  preparation  for  departure.  Strive  to 
live  in  a  perpetual  readiness  to  die  ;  and  this 
you  shall  attain,  if  you  learn  to  love  His  presence 
now.  If  you  go  to  Him  even  saying,  "Depart 
from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,   O  Lord  j"   or. 


XX.]  THE  BLESSEDNESS  OF  DEATH.  387 

*'  I  am  not  worthy  that  Thou  shouldest  come  under 
my  roof:"  or  if  you  come  day  by  day,  trembling  to 
"  touch  so  much  as  the  hem  of  His  garment,"  He, 
of  His  tender  compassion,  will  breathe  into  your 
hearts  an  abasing  trust  in  His  forgiveness,  and  a 
fervent  desire  of  His  presence.  What  but  sin 
makes  you  to  shrink  from  the  thought  of  your 
departure  ?  And  if  your  sin  were  blotted  out,  what 
could  make  you  endure  to  linger  here  ? 


SEEMON  XXI. 


THE  SNARE  OF  THE  WORLD  AND  THE  DRAWING  OF 
CHRIST  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS. 


SoXG  OF  SOLOIIOX  i.  4. 

"  Draw  me,  we  will  run  after  Thee." 

These  are  the  words  of  the  Church  praying  to 
be  drawn  to  the  presence  and  vision  of  Christ. 
They  express  the  love  a  faithful  soul  bears  to  Him 
for  His  holiness  and  His  passion,  and  a  desire  to 
be  drawn  more  and  more  into  fellowship  with  His 
sanctity  and  His  Cross, — a  desire,  that  is,  to  walk 
the  way  of  the  imitation  of  Christ.  But  they  ex- 
press more  than  this  desire  :  they  confess  also  our 
spiritual  impotence  and  our  spiritual  slowness  to 
follow  Him.  "  Draw  me,"  for  alone  I  cannot 
move  a  foot ;  I  cannot  begin  my  course  :  in  me 
there  is  no  power  to  originate :  all  comes  from 
Thee,  both  to  will  and  to  do,  to  desire  and  to 
beoin. 

It  is  also  to  be   noted   that  the   Church   here 


Serm.  XXL]         THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  389 

says,  "  Draw  me,  we  will  ruu,''^  as  implying  with 
what  a  fervent  aflPection  and  kindling  heart  it 
would  put  forth  all  its  strength  to  do  the  will  of 
Christ,  revealed  in  His  gift  of  preventing  grace. 
*'  My  soul  eleaveth  unto  the  dust :  quicken  Thou 
me  according  to  Thy  word."'  This  is  first  a  cry 
of  distress  under  the  clog  and  hindrance  of  an 
earthly  and  sluggish  nature,  and  then  a  pure  aspir- 
ation, mixed  with  intense  desire  to  speed  into  His 
presence.  There  is  in  it  a  tone  like  the  words  of 
St.  Peter  when  he  first  refused  to  suffer  his  Master 
to  wash  his  feet,  and  then,  lest  he  should  lose  his 
part  and  lot  in  Him,  eagerly  desired  more :  "  Lord, 
not  my  feet  only,  but  also  my  hands  and  my 
head  ;""  or  as  when  he  said,  "  Lord,  why  cannot 
I  follow  Thee  now  ?  I  will  lay  down  my  life  for 
Thy  sake."^  It  is  such  a  longing  as  we  may  be- 
lieve the  beloved  disciple  had,  when  Peter  turned 
and  saw  him  following,  and  our  Lord  said,  "  If 
I  will  that  he  tfirry  till  I  com(?,  what  is  that  to 
thee  ?'"  such  an  aspiration  as  they  all  felt  within 
when  He  "led  them  out  as  far  as  to  15ethany,  and 
lifted  up  His  hands  and  blessed  them,  and .  .  .  while 
He  blessed  th(;m  .  .  .  was  parted  from  them,  and 
carried  up  into  lieaven."'  Each  one,  as  Ik;  looked 
up  stedfastly  and   worshipped,  s;iid,  (no  doiil)t,   in 

'   P.«.  cxix.  25.  '^  St.  John  xiii.  f).  •'  lb.  .'57. 

4  St.  Jolin  xxi.  23.       •'   St.  Luke  xxiv.  .50,  51. 


390  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

his  heart,)  *'  Draw  me,  we  will  run  after  Thee." 
And  this  has  heen  the  longing  desire  of  the 
Church  in  every  age  from  then  till  now.  There 
has  heen  in  the  midst  of  this  rough  world,  and 
under  the  soiled  array  of  the  visible  Church,  a 
deep  and  living  pulse  beating  with  love  for  Christ, 
yearning  and  panting  as  the  hart  for  the  water- 
brooks. 

This  is  the  perfect  and  blessed  life  of  a  Chris- 
tian upon  earth  ;  a  state  very  high,  far  above  our 
heads,  though,  God  be  praised,  not  out  of  our 
reach.  If  we  were  left  to  scale  these  ascents  of 
love  and  peace  in  our  own  slothful  weakness,  they 
would  indeed  be  unattainable  ;  but  it  is  He  that 
"  maketh  our  feet  like  hart's  feet,"  and  carries  us 
up  to  walk  with  Him  "  on  high  places."  There 
is  no  measure  of  love,  joy,  peace,  light,  gladness, 
fellowship  with  Him,  to  which  He  will  not  draw 
and  exalt  those  that  seek  Him  in  humility. 

Now  the  spiritual  life  has  three  states,  through 
which  all  who  attain  to  the  love  of  Christ  seem 
to  pass  ;  and  these  states  are  so  marked  that  we 
may  take  them  one  by  one.  Although  to  every 
soul  born  again  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  He  may 
say,  as  He  said  of  old,  "  I  have  loved  thee  with 
an  everlasting  love,  therefore  with  loving  kind- 
ness have  I  drawn  thee  ;"'    although   this  loving 

^  Jerem.  xxxi.  2. 


XXI.]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  ciQl 

attraction  of  His  Spirit  has  been  all  through  life 
drawing  each  one  of  us  to  Himself,  yet  we,  by  our 
backward  and  reluctant  hearts,  have  kept  far  away, 
or  followed  with  a  slow  and  struufoflino-  will.  We 
are  between  two  objects  of  love,  two  attractive 
forces ;  as  if  two  loadstones,  one  seen,  and  one  un- 
seen, were  playing  upon  us.  Let  us  see  how  it  has 
been  with  us. 

1.  First,  I  suppose  that  most  can  remember  a 
time  when  we  were  drawn  so  strongly  to  the  world 
that  the  drawing  of  Christ's  love  and  Spirit  was 
overbalanced  by  a  more  powerful  attraction. 

Happy  are  they  who  have  no  memory  of  actual 
sin,  and  of  its  clinging  hold,  by  which  they  were 
once  kept  in  bondage.  The  most  dreadful  part 
of  sin  is  its  sweetness,  by  which  it  fascinates  even 
those  who  know  its  hatefulness  and  shame.  It 
mocks  a  sinner  wliile  it  destroys  him.  It  unbinds 
all  his  resolutions,  loosens  his  strictest  intentions, 
relaxes  his  firmest  purposes,  and  changes  him, 
with  his  eyes  open,  from  a  half-penitent  to  a  fool. 
To  pass  by  all  other  examples,  take  such  a  sin  as 
anger.  Before  tlie  temptation  it  is  hateful  :  dur- 
ing the  temptation,  to  indulge  it  is  positively  sweet. 
It  gratifies  a  strong  present  impulse,  as  abundant 
food  cloys  a  hungry  palate.  An  angry  man  goes 
on  word  after  word,  reply  after  rejoinder,  lash  after 
lash,  with  a  sensible   and  increasing  elevation   of 


39'2  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

spirit.  He  revels  in  it.  For  a  time  every  thing 
is  lost  in  the  swell  and  sway  of  his  excitement. 
It  adds  strength,  vividness,  and  eloquence  to  his 
thoughts  and  words,  which  delight  him.  In  a  mo- 
ment all  the  promises,  rules,  and  prayers  of  years, 
it  may  be,  are  scattered  and  forgotten.  In  another 
moment  he  stands  alone,  stung  to  the  quick  at 
his  own  folly.  No  reproof  can  go  beyond  the 
rebukes  he  lays  upon  himself,  no  contempt  ex- 
ceed his  own.  Why  did  he  not  feel  it  a  few 
minutes  before  ?  A  little  sooner  would  have  saved 
him.  But  sin  is  sweet,  and  it  draws  steadily  and 
smoothly,  as  the  shoal- water  of  a  whirlpool,  with 
an  imperceptible  and  resistless  attraction.  One 
such  sin  will  overbear  the  meek  and  gentle  draw- 
ing of  Christ.  Such  a  man  needs  no  more  than 
this  one  bond  to  keep  him  fast  bound  to  this  dying 
world.  So  it  is  with  every  sin.  Take  them  one 
by  one :  change  only  the  terms,  and  the  same  out- 
line will  serve  for  all.  In  such  hearts  the  love  of 
Christ  takes  no  root :  for  them  His  holiness  has  no 
beauty.  His  passion  no  sharpness  of  cotnpunction. 

But  we  will  pass  to  another  kind  of  state. 
I  mean,  the  state  of  those  who  love  the  pleasures, 
rank,  honours,  riches,  refinement  of  the  world. 
These  things,  free  as  they  are  from  necessary  evil, 
are  among^  the  most  subtil  and  tenacious  snares. 
Unnumbered  souls  perish  in  their  meshes.     Thou- 


XXI.]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  393 

sands  struggle  in  vain  to  get  beyond  the  sphere  of 
their  attraction.  But  their  power  of  allurement  is 
only  less  than  the  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  :  far 
too  great  for  the  infirmity  of  man.  It  is  wonderful 
how  fast  worldly  people  are  held  ;  how  the  world 
embraces  them,  and  weaves  its  arms  about  their 
whole  being.  "  The  children  of  this  world  are," 
indeed,  "  in  their  generation  wiser  than  the  chil- 
dren of  light :"  for  except  in  a  few,  where  do  we 
ever  see  such  intense,  concentrated,  energetic,  lov- 
ing devotion  as  in  aspiring  and  ambitious  men,  in 
the  hunters  after  popularity,  and  the  traffickers 
in  gold  ?  The  human  character  is  in  them  exhi- 
bited in  all  its  range,  versatility,  and  unity  of  force. 
They  lack  but  one  thing.  They  are  "  without  God 
in  the  world.'"  And  the  world  has  them  for  its 
own  with  a  quiet  and  unchallenged  possession.  No 
drawings  of  Christ's  trutli  or  Spirit  make  them 
waver  or  vibrate  for  a  moment.  The  game  is  up, 
and  their  spoil  before  them.  They  plunge  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  manifold  and  multiplying  at- 
tractions of  the  world,  until  their  freedom  of  action 
is  stolen  from  them,  and  their  will  ceases  to  be 
their  own. 

And,  further  than  this,  we  may  take  an  ex- 
ample which  comes  nearer  to  ourselves.  It  is  not 
only  the  greater  sins,  or  the  worshi])  of  the  world, 

'  Ephcs.  ii.  12. 


394  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

which  hold  us  hack  against  the  drawing  of  Christ ; 
hut  the  soft  pure  happiness  of  home,  the  easy 
round  of  kindly  offices,  the  calm  and  blameless  toil 
of  a  literary  life,  the  gentler  and  more  peaceful 
influences  of  earthly  cheerfulness  :  —  all  these  too, 
with  the  lights  and  shades,  the  anxieties  and  joys 
which  fall  across  an  even  path,  steal  away  the 
heart,  and  wind  all  its  affections  about  a  thousand 
moorings.  Happy  men  drop  their  anchors  into 
the  quiet  waters  of  life  ;  the  very  smoothness  of 
its  surface  lulls  them,  and  a  conscious  innocence 
makes  them  fearless.  This  world  is  very  fair; 
and  the  elements  of  peace  and  joy  still  bear  the 
marks  of  a  Divine  hand ;  so  that  we  love  them 
freely  and  with  fondness.  A  great  part  of  such 
a  life  rests  on  duty,  and  is  blameless ;  it  has  there- 
fore nothing  to  awaken  a  suspicion  that  the  world 
is  nearer  to  the  soul  than  God.  How  many  homes, 
how  many  families,  how  many  hearts,  how  many 
parents  and  children,  husbands  and  wives,  bre- 
thren and  friends,  even  pastors  of  Christ's  flock, 
does  this  describe  ! 

But  these  fascinations  are  dangerously  strong ; 
they  so  fill  the  eye  and  heart,  that  little  is  desired 
more,  and  nothino-  is  sought  with  earnestness  be- 
yond.  Such  people  are  often,  indeed  almost  al- 
ways, up  to  a  certain  measure,  religious  ;  but  often 
not   devout.      They   are   pure,    but    not    zealous ; 


XXL]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  395 

afraid  of  sin,  but  without  compunction.  They 
think  they  fear  the  world,  while  they  love  its  hap- 
piness ;  and  so  hope  to  escape  the  danger  of  its 
allurements :  they  fear  to  oflPend  God's  holiness 
rather  than  His  love ;  and  by  this  pious  fear  dis- 
guise from  themselves  their  want  of  fervour.  They 
serve  God  from  conscience,  not  because  it  is  their 
joy.  His  worship  is  a  cool  and  satisfying  duty ; 
but  neither  sweetness  nor  delight.  The  vision  of 
life  is  lovely  and  vivid ;  the  outline  of  heaven 
veiled  and  dim  :  their  enjoyment  of  life  is  present 
and  sensible  ;  the  thought  of  death  bitter,  as  an 
end  of  happiness,  and  fearful,  as  an  entrance  upon 
a  state  unknown.  To  sum  this  up  in  one  true 
word,  such  people  love  the  world  more  than  they 
fear  it,  and  fear  God  more  than  they  love  Him. 
The  attraction  is  greater  on  one  side,  and  the  re- 
pulsion is  all  on  the  other.  AVhat  a  searching 
point  of  reality  and  truth  there  is  in  the  words  of 
the  son  of  Sirach  :  *'  O  death,  how  bitter  is  the 
remembrance  of  tliee  to  a  man  that  livetli  at  rest 
in  his  possessicms,  unto  the  man  that  hatli  notliing 
to  vex  him,  and  that  hatli  prosperity  in  all  things!'" 
I  have  been  describing  no  evil  or  irreligious  cha- 
racter ;  but  one  which,  to  a  great  extent,  is  Cliris- 
tian.  In  all  the  duties  of  the  second  table  they 
are    strict    and    sincere  ;    but    towards    God    llicir 

^   Ecclus.  xli.  1  . 


396  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  TSerm. 

conscience  is  clear  and  cold.  The  warmth,  pulse, 
and  tide  of  life  sets  towards  the  visible  objects  of 
affection.  This  is  a  state  in  which  it  is  hard  to 
die.  They  are  little  prepared,  either  for  so  great 
a  wrench,  or  for  so  high  and  awful  a  meeting  with 
their  Lord  and  Judge. 

2.  Let  us  take  the  next  state.  It  may  be  that 
by  sorrow,  or  chastisement,  or  by  some  other  of  His 
manifold  strokes  of  love,  it  has  pleased  God  to 
break  or  to  relax  these  bonds,  and  to  dispel  the 
vain  show  in  which  they  talked.  Let  us  suppose 
that  the  world  has  lost  its  attractive  power,  and 
draws  them  but  feebly  to  its  centre.  Little  by  little 
they  get  weaned  from  their  stronger  attachments. 
They  see  less  fairness,  and  no  stability  in  its  best 
gifts;  they  have  found  its  insecurity;  and  its  sounds, 
even  the  most  glad,  ring  hollow.  They  are  not 
soured  or  fretful,  nor  love  friends  less,  nor  brood 
upon  any  disappointment,  nor  wince  under  any 
cross  ;  but  they  have  found  out  the  emptiness  of 
all  that  is  not  eternal,  and  the  poverty  of  all  that 
will  not  satisfy  the  soul.  In  this  state  they  break, 
one  by  one,  through  the  old  attractions  of  life  ;  they 
withdraw  themselves  to  the  outer  sphere  of  its  in- 
fluence, where  it  plays  feebly  upon  them,  not  as 
yet  wholly  escaping ;  sometimes  for  a  while  falling 
under  it  more  fully  again,  and  retracting  in  their 
escape :  but  upon  the  whole,  the  world  draws  them 


XXL]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  397 

less,  and  the  presence  of  Christ  attracts  them 
more.  Still,  the  most  that  can  be  said  is,  that 
they  begin  to  fear  the  world  more,  and  love 
it  less  ;  and  to  fear  the  presence  of  Christ  less, 
and  to  love  Him  more.  After  all,  it  is  but  a 
mingled  state,  a  sort  of  mottled  sky,  neither  the 
cold  of  winter  nor  the  sun  of  summer ;  a  dubious, 
veering,  inconstant  temperature  between  love  and 
fear,  life  and  death.  If  life  does  not  draw  them, 
death  affrights  them  ;  though  they  have  lost  their 
fondness  for  earth,  they  have  not  attained  a  yearn- 
ing for  heaven.  The  fresh,  calm  repose  of  life  is 
more  soothing-  to  them  than  the  thought  of  the 
heavenly  court,  ardent  with  love,  and  arrayed  in 
the  glory  of  God.  From  this  they  draw  back,  both 
with  conscious  incapacity  of  such  exalted  bliss,  and 
with  a  sense  of  personal  sin.  They  are  intellectu- 
ally convinced  of  the  blessedness  of  a  life  "  hid  with 
Christ  in  God,"  and  tliat  there  is  no  true  happi- 
ness but  to  dwell  in  His  love.  Their  whole  life 
takes  a  new  direction  ;  they  recast  it  upon  the 
order  of  the  Church,  and  with  a  direct  intention  to 
aim  only  at  a  holy  resurrection.  This  disentangles 
them  from  a  multitude  of  hindrances,  and  gives 
something  of  unity  and  purpose  to  their  life.  Their 
chief  work,  thenceforth,  becomes  the  search  and 
knowledge  of  their  own  state  before  God,  their  cliicr 
study  His  will,  their  chief  rule  of  life  the  i)ra<tic(; 


398  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

of  devotion.  But  there  is  yet  one  thing  sensibly 
wanting  :  the  love  which  "  castcth  out  fear."  The 
deliberate  choice  of  their  superior  will,  that  is,  of 
reason  and  conscience,  is  fixed  upon  the  kingdom 
of  God  ;  but  the  feelings  and  affections  of  their 
hearts,  that  is,  of  their  sensitive  and  inferior  will, 
are  lively  and  prone  to  relapse.  Their  whole  reli- 
gious life  is  to  be  sustained  against  a  force  which 
strongly  keeps  its  hold ;  and  the  attractions  of 
the  unseen  world  are  faint.  They  are  convictions 
rather  than  affections  ;  they  work  by  reason  rather 
than  by  love  :  and  this  accounts  both  for  the  slight 
and  uncertain  enjoyment  they  find  in  devotions,  as 
in  prayer  and  the  holy  Sacrament,  and  the  con- 
tinual resistance,  both  of  body  and  spirit,  which 
must  be  overcome  before  they  can  begin  to  pray. 

Perhaps  nothing  so  certainly  proves  how  we  are 
related  to  the  unseen  world  as  our  prayers.  If  they 
be  irksome  and  tedious,  cold  and  tasteless,  it  is  a 
sure  proof  that  our  delight  is  not  in  God,  and  that 
we  love  Him  chiefly,  if  not  only,  in  the  reason  ;  that 
we  are  living  if  not  lives  of  sense,  at  best  of  intel- 
lect and  of  imagination,  rather  than  of  the  will.  So 
long  as  we  are  in  this  state,  however  much  this 
world  may  lose  its  hold  upon  us,  the  next  has  not 
as  yet  won  our  hearts.  The  thought  of  entering  it 
must  be  appalling  j  and  the  expectation  of  death 
full  of  fear. 


XXI.]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  399 

And  does  not  this  describe  the  state  of  many 
who  pass  for  devout,  and  believe  themselves  to  be 
so,  at  least  in  desire  ?  Such  persons  are  in  a  ba- 
lanced state  between  two  attractions  ;  of  which,  if 
the  one  be  weaker,  it  is  the  nearer  and  the  more 
sensibly  perceived.  This  condition  is  at  times 
dreary  and  overcast,  and  cannot  last  long.  It  must 
incline  one  way  or  the  other.  Either  the  world, 
by  almost  unperceived  reaction,  gets  its  hold  again, 
or  God  in  His  mercy  multiplies  the  power  of  Ilis 
grace,  and  draws  them  almost  unwilling  to  Him- 
self. Whether  it  be  bv  lar^fcr  measures  of  His 
Spirit,  shedding  abroad  His  sensible  love,  or  by 
fresh  visitations  of  merciful  discipline,  matters  not. 
Whatsoever  draws  us  out  of  the  range  of  worldly 
desires,  and  within  the  sphere  of  His  heavenly 
kingdom,  the  issue  is  all  one.  It  turns  the  scale, 
and  "  we  run  after"  Him. 

3.  And  this  leads  on  into  tlu^  third  and  last 
state,  in  which  the  balance  is  so  turned  against  this 
world,  that  it  can  allure  no  longer  ;  and  the  hope 
of  God  and  His  kingdom  attracts  .alone.  He  has 
unnumbered  ways  in  which  He  thus  draws  us  to 
Himself.  Sometimes  it  is  by  a  flood  of  blessings, 
wakening  the  wholes  heart  to  gratitude  and  praise  ; 
sometimes  by  revelations  of  His  trulli,  ovcruhrhii- 
ing  the  soul  with  light ;  sometimes  by  a  word  read 
in  silence,  or  spoken  to  us,  whicli  wounds  like  a 


100  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

shaft  of  fire ;  sometimes  by  the  overflowing  grace 
of  the  holy  Sacrament,  or  by  such  a  spiritual  per- 
ception of  the  Cross  as  fills  the  heart  with  love 
and  sorrow :  besides  all  these,  He  has  ministries, 
operations,  and  agents,  countless  as  the  angels  of 
light.  In  some  of  these  special  ways  He  is  often 
pleased  to  break  the  bonds  of  this  world,  and  to 
draw  His  servants  once  for  all  under  the  abiding 
attractions  of  the  world  to  come.  Perhaps  nothing 
does  this  so  surely  as  a  realisation  of  death. 

There  is  great  reason  -to  doubt  whether  we  ever 
realise  what  death  is,  till  it  comes  home  to  our- 
selves. We  may  see  it  in  others,  and  stand  daily 
by  dying  beds ;  and  yet  it  is  with  death  as  with 
bodily  pain,  we  can  all  sympathise,  but  we  cannot 
transfer  it  to  ourselves.  However  familiar  we  are 
with  the  sights  and  sounds,  the  thoughts  and  fears 
of  such  a  state,  by  seeing  others  die,  it  is  only, 
as  it  were,  by  proxy.  Such  warnings  are  very 
wholesome,  and  dispose  the  mind  to  realise  it,  one 
day,  for  ourselves  ;  but  they  can  do  no  more.  The 
consciousness  that  our  time  is  come,  and  that  we 
personally  are  going  out  of  this  world,  is  wholly 
incommunicable.  That  which  makes  it  our  con- 
sciousness, forbids  its  being  shared  by  others.  It 
is  our  own,  because  it  is  no  other's.  The  con- 
sciousness of  our  personality  is  as  our  own  life, 
which,   though   common  in  nature,  is  incommuni- 


XXI.J  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  401 

cable.  So  the  thought  of  our  own  death  ;  of  our 
own  personal  appearing  before  God  ;  our  own  per- 
sonal account,  judgment,  destiny,  —  that  which 
makes  it  different  from  all  other  perceptions  is, 
that  it  is  no  other's  but  our  own.  When  we 
have  once  realised  this,  a  change  passes  upon  all 
things :  sin  becomes  hateful,  the  world  fearful, 
earthly  happiness  pale,  and  almost  undesired. 
One  great  reality  absorbs  all — eternity  ;  and  in 
eternity  the  vision  of  God  and  of  Christ,  the 
kingdom  of  saints,  the  bliss  of  the  soul,  the  glory 
of  the  body,  the  judgment,  the  resurrection,  the 
armies  of  the  quick  and  dead; — this  one  mighty 
vision  draws  the  whole  soul  into  itself,  and  we 
seem  caught  up  out  of  the  bonds  of  flesh  and 
earth,  free  into  the  air.  Perhaps  no  otlior  words 
will  fully  express  the  feeling.  It  is  as  if  our  feet 
rested  upon  nothing  but  the  spiritual  world  ;  as  if 
we  saw  nothing  but  the  presence  of  God. 

This  thought  once  realised,  may,  indeed,  be 
wholly  lost  again.  AVc  may  taste  the  "  powers  of 
the  world  to  come,"  and  yet  again  fall  away ;  but 
we  arc  not  now  speaking  of  that  danger,  but  of 
its  direct  opposite  :  the  blessedness  of  such  an  awa- 
kening. It  is  as  if  our  eyes  were  opened,  or  gifted 
with  a  twofold  power  of  sight,  and  a  reed  were 
put  into  our  hand  "  like;  unto  a  rod,'"  to  measure 
'  Ucv.  xi.  1. 

VOL.  III.  D  D 


402  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

happiness  and  life,  sin  and  death,  hope  and  fear, 
time  and  eternity,  "  the  temple  and  the  altar," 
the  shadows  which  fall  hoth  upon  the  world  and 
from  it,  —  as  if  we  were  lifted  into  space  beyond  its 
path.  How  strangely  do  all  things  then  change 
their  magnitudes,  and  with  them  their  force  of 
attraction :  what  a  new  law  of  proportion  and  of 
power  is  seen  to  reveal  itself  on  every  side.  Once 
we  were  in  earnest  for  all  manner  of  aims,  objects, 
and  schemes  ;  we  panted  for  this,  were  all  energy 
for  that  undertaking ;  all  on  fire,  all  abroad  :  and 
now  all  is  spoken  in  one  calm  word  :  "If  by  any 
means  I  might  attain  unto  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead."^ 

But  it  is  not  the  mere  fading  of  earthly  and 
transitory  things.  A  mere  loosening  from  this 
world  would  do  little.  It  might  make  us  sour 
and  restless,  bitter  and  complaining,  or  even  haters 
of  mankind  and  enemies  of  God. 

The  true  and  blessed  change  wrought  upon 
the  heart  is  an  awakened  desire  of  God,  by 
which  He  draws  it  to  Himself.  After  much 
trembling  and  fear,  penitent  self-accusation,  and 
sincere  restitution,  so  far  as  they  are  able  ;  after 
passing  through  the  depths  of  a  repentance,  those 
whom  God  so  blesses  pass  on,  by  faith  in  the 
blood  of  Christ,  into  a  state  of  calm  and  cheer- 

1  Philip,  iii.  1 1 . 


XXr.]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  40^ 

ful  desire,  which  collects  all  the  affections  of  the 
soul  into  one  longing  hope.  "  One  thing  have 
I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek  after ; 
that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all 
the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  fair  beauty  of 
the  Lord."  "  This  shall  be  my  rest  for  ever; 
here  will  I  dwell ;  for  I  have  a  delight  therein." 
If  they  could  venture,  they  would  say,  "  I  have 
a  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which 
is  far  better  ;"  or,  "  Even  so.  Lord  Jesus,  come 
quickly." 

It  seems  at  such  a  time  as  if  they  could  never 
fall  back  into  old  channels,  never  go  abroad  again 
into  this  unreal  world,  never  be  in  earnest  for  any 
thing  of  time,  never  bestow  an  hour  or  a  care  on 
any  thing  which  is  not  eternal.  The  whole  life 
of  their  heart  seems  brought  to  a  focus  in  the  de- 
sire of  peace  in  heaven. 

Let  us  now  suppose  that  God  in  His  mercy 
has  brought  any  of  you  to  this  state  ;  that  Lie 
has  borne  with  you  when  you  loved  the  world,  and 
served  Him  only  with  fear  ;  that  He  has  drawn 
you  out  of  this  spiritual  death  iiilo  tlic  second 
state,  where  you  hung  in  a  dul)ious  balance  of 
attraction  :  let  us  suppose,  I  say,  that  He  has,  in 
love,  broken  vour  bonds  asunder,  and  drawn  vou, 
by  the  full  force  of  love  and  holy  fear,  unto  Him- 
self.    How  will  you  answer  to  this  mercy  ?     Sup- 


404  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

pose  yourselves  awakened  by  some  of  His  gracious 
\dsitatioTis  :  what  should  you  do  ? 

1 .  First,  it  would  he  the  plain  will  of  God  that 
you  should  strive  with  all  your  soul  and  strength  to 
follow  whither  He  is  drawing  you  ;  that  is,  to  pre- 
pare yourselves  to  dwell  with  Him  for  ever ;  and, 
as  a  first  step  to  this,  to  put  off  all  that  weighs 
you  down  to  earth.  I  need  not  say  all  sins,  for 
we  have  been  speaking  only  of  those  who  have 
long  ago,  by  God's  grace,  been  cleansed  of  wilful 
sins.  But  there  remains  the  burden  of  the  past, 
the  consciousness  of  sin  dwelling  in  us,  and  much 
that  is  written  in  God's  book  against  the  judg- 
ment of  the  great  day.  Our  first  step  must  be 
to  put  this  off,  by  an  humble  accusation  of  our- 
selves before  Him.  So  long  as  sin  has  any  part 
in  us,  the  world  retains  a  hold.  It  can  light  up 
fears,  and  so  withdraw  the  soul  from  God.  But 
confession  fairly  casts  out  the  embers  and  the 
ashes  of  death  ;  so  that  the  world  has  nothing  on 
which  to  cast  its  fires. 

The  next  thing  is,  to  offer  up  to  God  all  pure 
affections,  desires,  regrets,  and  all  the  bonds  which 
link  us  to  home,  kindred,  and  friends,  together 
with  all  our  works,  purposes,  and  labours.  These 
things,  which  are  not  only  lawful,  but  sacred,  be- 
come then  the  matter  of  thanksgiving  and  obla- 
tion.    When   He  calls  us,    they  can  be    ours    no 


XXI.]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  405 

longer  ;  He  has  resumed  what  He  lent,  and  we 
must  yield  them  up.  If  we  would  hold  them 
back,  and  dwell  upon  them,  they  would  only  dis- 
turb the  balance  of  attraction,  and  make  us  draw 
backward  to  life  again.  Memories,  plans  for  the 
future,  wishes,  intentions  ;  works  just  begun,  half 
done,  all  but  completed ;  emotions,  sympathies,  af- 
fections :  all  these  things  throng  tumultuously  and 
dangerously  in  the  heart  and  will.  The  only  way 
to  master  them  is,  to  offer  them  up  to  Him,  as 
once  ours,  under  Him,  always  His  by  right.  In 
fact,  as  we  would  restore,  at  our  last  hour,  all 
loans  to  their  lawful  owners,  so  we  ought  at  all 
times  to  make  restitution  to  God. 

And  after  this  we  ought  to  awaken  in  our  will 
the  grace  of  faith,  hope,  and  love,  calling  to  mind 
all  that  He  has  done  for  us  from  childhood, — the 
pledges  of  His  truth,  goodness,  and  love  to  us. 
These  things  powerfully  draw  us  on  towards  His 
unseen  presence: — faith  by  realising  His  beauty, 
hope  His  mercy,  and  love  His  fatherly  and  pitiful 
compassion. 

But  when  all  this  is  done,  there  remains  one 
thing  still,  the  chiefest  and  best  of  all ;  wliicli  is, 
neither  to  go  back  in  fear  and  misgiving  to  the 
past,  nor  in  anxiety  and  forecasting  to  the  future  ; 
but  to  Ho  ([ulct  under  His  lumd,  trusting  in  the 
Cross  alone,  and  having  no  will  but  His.     This  is 


406  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Seum. 

the  greatest  speed  we  can  make  to  His  presence ; 
for  he  that  has  no  will  but  God's  will  is  not  far 
from  His  kingdom ;  for  "  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
within"  him. 

2.  But  next  suppose  it  to  be  God's  will  that 
you  should  be  once  more  set  free  from  the  trial 
He  has  sent  for  your  instruction :  what  shall  you 
do  ?  It  is  plainly  His  will  that  you  should  give 
your  whole  heart  and  strength  to  perpetuate  and 
to  perfect  what  you  have  learned,  to  the  very  end 
of  life. 

His  visitation  was  sent  either  to  prepare  you  for 
His  presence,  or  for  a  life  which  should  be  spent 
in  an  habitual  and  ripening  fitness  for  departing. 
So  it  pleases  Him,  as  it  were,  to  build  up  our 
earthly  life  in  mercy,  as  once  He  ordained  in  dis- 
pleasure, laying  the  foundations  in  sorrow,  and  set- 
ting up  the  gates  in  sickness ;  rearing  it  story  upon 
story,  every  one  resting  upon  some  visitation  of 
chastisement  or  w^arning.  This  is  what  He  would 
have  you  learn  now.  He  saw  that  you  w^ere  still 
entangled  in  the  world,  deceiving  others  less  than 
yourself  with  the  belief  that  you  were  dead  to  it. 
He  saw  that  your  heart  must  be  struck  sharply 
on  the  cold  flint,  before  it  could  give  out  fire,  and 
kindle.  He  saw  how  much  of  truth  hung  sus- 
pended in  vapour  and  imagination,  and  needed  a 
rude  touch,  as  from  the  presence  of  death,  to  fix  it 


XXI. ]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  407 

in  reality.  He  saw  how  much  devotion  had  no 
deeper  springs  than  in  the  reason,  leaving  the  heart 
dry ;  how  weak  an  allurement  would  draw  you 
from  His  kingdom  ;  how  slack  a  love  held  you  to 
His  service.  And  all  this  He  would  heal,  and  send 
you  back  into  life,  to  prove  you  once  more  upon 
a  deeper  law,  and  with  a  clearer  insight  into  the 
realities  of  death  and  judgment.  This  is  now 
your  trial ;  to  perpetuate  your  present  spiritual 
perceptions  ;  to  shelter  them  from  the  breath  of 
commonplace,  which  men  call  common  sense,  so- 
briety, and  the  like  ;  and  to  keep  them  as  keen 
and  unearthly  as  you  feel  them  now.  Nay,  more : 
your  trial  is  not  only  to  prolong  your  present  con- 
victions, but  to  carry  them  out  and  to  perfect  them 
by  exercise  and  discipline,  and  the  confirmation  of 
habitual  stcdfastness.  It  will  be  a  heavy  and  sad 
account  if,  twenty  or  ten  years  hence,  when  sorrow, 
or  fear,  or  death  comes  near  once  more,  you  be 
taken  unawares,  or  found  no  fitter  than  last  time. 
Alas  for  us,  if  these  things  leave  us  on  the  same 
low  level  where  they  found  us  at  the  first,  —  if 
sorrows  do  not  prepare  us  for  affliction,  and  sick- 
nesses do  not  make  us  ready  to  die  ;  if,  having 
once  gone  down  midway  into  the  cold  waters,  we 
stand  next  time  trembling  upon  the  bank,  to  begin 
all  over  a^ain,  with  all  the  same  infirmities  and 
fears  I 


408  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  [Serm. 

Now,  to  keep  alive  and  to  ripen  the  convictions 
and  perceptions  which  God's  mercy  gives  in  such 
visitations,  take  these  two  counsels  :  first,  to  sus- 
tain in  your  minds  the  thoughts,  and  to  perpetuate 
the  prayers,  rules,  and  practices  you  used  while 
His  hand  was  upon  you.  This,  if  any  thing,  under 
God,  will  keep  up  your  inward  state,  and  ripen 
it  into  an  habitual  consciousness.  To  this  it  will 
be  well  to  add  special  commemoration  of  events 
and  days.  And  the  other  counsel  is,  as  far  as  you 
can,  to  take  upon  yourselves  the  special  care  and 
consolation  of  those  who  are  led  by  the  hand  of 
God  into  the  cloud  through  which  He  has  once 
guided  you.  In  them  you  will  see  the  liveliest 
memorials  of  what  you  were,  of  your  fears,  pains, 
faults,  anxieties,  and  weakness.  You  will  learn 
how  to  humble  yourselves  ;  and  you  will  know,  by 
a  special  knowledge  of  sympathy,  how  to  help  and 
soothe  them.  The  safest  and  most  blessed  life  for 
you  will  be  to  make  such  as  the  poor  and  peni- 
tent, mourners,  the  sick  and  dying,  your  spiritual 
kindred,  under  our  common  Father ;  and  to  live 
in  them  and  for  them,  in  thanksgiving  for  mercies 
to  yourself,  and  as  a  preparation  for  the  hour  which 
must  come  at  last. 

What  a  wonderful  mystery  of  paternal  love  will 
be  revealed  at  that  day,  when,  from  the  kingdom 
of  their  Father,   the    elect   shall    see    the   virtues 


XXL]  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.  WO 

which  issued  from  the  Cross  to  draw  each  one  of 
them  unto  itself !     What  a  twofold  revelation  of 
cold  unwillingness  and  of  divine  charity  !     "  I  drew 
them  with  cords  of  a  man,  with  bands  of  love.'" 
With  the  cords  of  Adam,  with  the  sacred  manhood 
of  the  Word  made  flesh,  with  the  tenderness,  pity, 
meekness,    sympathy   of  our    crucified   Lord    and 
God.     Truly  these  are  *'  cords  of  man  and  bands 
of  love;"    of  love    "which    passeth   knowledge," 
whose  goings   forth  are  from  everlasting  ;   whose 
virtues    are    infinite,    whose    patience    is    eternal. 
From  every  wound  of  His  Divine  manhood  issues 
forth,  as  it  were,  a  radiance  of  love,  drawing  the 
hearts    of  His    elect   into    the    fellowship   of  His 
passion.     All  through    our   life    this    effluence   of 
grace  has  been  shed  abroad  upon  us  ;  even  in  our 
sins,  in  our  unconscious  and  turbulent  worldliness, 
restraining,  preventing,  and  at  last  converting  us 
to  Himself.     Ever  since  that  day,  virtue  and  holy 
inspirations   liavc  gone   out  of  Him,    silently   per- 
suading   and    secretly    attracting    us    nearer    and 
nearer  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross.     Even  in  our  cokl- 
ness,  reluctance,  relapses.  He  still  held  us  fast.    He 
knew  us  better  than  we  knew  ourselves,  and  the 
bands  of  love   were   still  wound  about  us  by  His 
tender  care.     Little   by  little   He  has  brought  us 
where  we  stand  now:  between  Him  and  us,  if  we 
'  Hosea  xi.  4. 


410  THE  TWO  GREAT  ANTAGONISTS.        [Serm.  XXI. 

believe,  there  is  but  a  veil,  impervious  to  sight,  to 
faith  as  open  as  the  day.  Happy  they  whom  He  has 
drawn  to  the  horizon  of  this  visible  world,  and  there 
bid  them  wait  in  sustained  and  ripening  preparation 
until  their  time  shall  come.  Let  us,  then,  say  unto 
Him,  "  Lord,  Thy  cross  is  high  and  lifted  up ;  I 
cannot  in  my  own  strength  ascend  it ;  but  Thou 
hast  promised,  'I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth, 
will  draw  all  men  unto  Me.'^  Draw  me,  then,  from 
my  sins  to  repentance,  from  darkness  to  faith,  from 
the  flesh  to  the  spirit,  from  coldness  to  ardent  de- 
votion, from  weak  beginnings  to  a  perfect  end,  from 
smooth  and  open  ways,  if  it  be  Thy  will,  to  higher 
and  holier  paths  ;  from  fear  to  love,  from  earth  to 
heaven,  from  myself  to  Thee.  And  as  Thou  hast 
said,  *  No  man  can  come  to  Me,  except  the  Father 
which  hath  sent  Me  draw  him,'^  give  unto  me  the 
Spirit  whom  the  Father  hath  sent  in  Thy  Name, 
that  in  Him  and  through  Him  I  being  wholly 
drawn  may  hasten  unto  Thee,  and  '  go  no  more 
out'  for  ever." 

1  St.  John  xii.  32.  2  gt.  John  vi.  44. 


SERMON  XXII. 


THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL. 


Song  of  Solomon  ii.  16. 
"  My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  His." 

We  need  not  go  into  the  literal  and  historical 
interpretation  of  this  Song  of  Songs.  It  is  enough 
to  know  that  "  a  greater  than  Solomon  is  here." 
It  is  a  vision  and  a  prophecy  of  one  "falling  into  a 
trance,  but  having  his  eyes  open ;"'  conscious,  and 
not  conscious  ;  seeing,  and  not  seeing,  how  great 
things  he  foreshadowed  and  spake.  It  is  verily  and 
indeed  the  song  of  Him  who  "  loved"  His  spouse 
"the  Church,  and  gave  Himself  for  it;  that  He 
mi<;ht  sanctifv  and  cleanse  it  with  the  washing  of 
water  by  the  word,  that  He  might  present  it  to 
Himself  a  glorious  Church,  not  having  spot,  or 
wrinkle,  or  ;niy  such  thing;  but  that  it  should  bo 
holy  and  without  blemish."'  This  song  is  tlic  in- 
'  Numbers  xxiv.  16.  ^  Ephes.  v.  2.5-27. 


412  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

eifable  communion  of  the  Bridegroom  and  Bride, 
both  in  this  wayfaring  upon  earth,  and  at  the  mar- 
riage supper  of  the  Lamb.  It  utters,  in  human 
words,  and  by  human  figures  and  emotions,  because 
spoken  by  man  and  addressed  to  man,  things  which 
surpass  not  only  words  but  knowledge  ;  realities  of 
the  spiritual  world, — the  instincts,  energies,  and 
consciousness  of  the  soul.  For  these  what  lansfuao'e 
is  deep  or  fine  enough  ?  what  ear  or  eye  can  attain 
to  those  things  which  even  the  heart  of  man  hath 
not  conceived  ?  They  can  be  perceived  only  by  the 
intuitions  of  the  Spirit,  and  by  a  power  of  vision 
granted  to  us  by  God. 

Such  is  the  mystery  of  peace  here  expressed. 
*'  My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  His."  High  as 
these  words  are,  yet  they  are  for  all.  Not  only 
might  His  chosen  disciple  so  speak,  but  the 
stained  and  penitent  Magdalene,  "  for  she  loved 
much."  Wonderful  is  His  pity  and  compassion  : 
the  least  may  say  this  with  the  greatest.  Even 
now  in  measure,  as  hereafter ;  for  in  the  firma- 
ment of  His  kingdom,  though  "one  star  diifereth 
from  another  star  in  glory,"  yet  all  are  bright  and 
pure :  some  burning  with  a  ruddy  and  glorious 
light,  in  might  and  splendour  ;  some  pale  and 
meek,  in  purity  and  softness  j  but  all  are  hal- 
lowed, sainted,  and  beloved. 

Let  us  see,  then,   what  these  few  deep  words 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  413 

may  mean.  They  express  the  bond  or  hold  of  love 
between  Christ  and  His  elect,  whether  they  be 
saints  or  penitents,  and  they  fasten  it  by  a  twofold 
strength.  "  My  Beloved  is  mine  ;"  and  not  this 
alone,  but  "  I  am  His."  At  first  sight  these  words 
might  seem  to  change  the  order  of  love  given  by  St. 
John,  "  We  love  Him,  because  He  first  loved  us ;" 
but  it  does  not.  The  order  is  eternal,  laid  deep  in 
the  bosom  of  God,  and  cannot  be  changed.  What, 
then,  do  these  words  express  ?     They  teach  us  : 

First,  that  He  is  ours  in  the  very  sense  in  which 
we  speak  of  our  father  or  our  child,  our  life  or 
our  own  soul.  There  is  nothing  we  possess,  either 
without  or  within  our  inmost  being,  w^hich  is  more 
our  own  than  He  is.  He  is  our  Maker,  our  Ee- 
deemer,  our  Helper,  our  Light,  our  Daily  Bread, 
our  Hope,  and  our  Portion  for  ever.  We  may  be 
stripped  naked  of  all  other  things  which  are  most 
our  own  ;  but  of  Him  we  can  never  be  deprived, 
except  we  cast  Him  away.  And  how  has  He  be- 
come ours  ?  Not  by  deserving  or  earning,  by  find- 
ing or  seeking ;  not  by  climbing  up  to  Him,  or 
taking  Him  for  ours ;  but  because  He  gave  Him- 
self to  us.  He  gave  us  His  trutli,  His  holy  sa- 
craments, His  promises ;  He  gave  us  sight,  power, 
reason,  ;md  life;  and  because  He  gave  them,  tliey 
are  ours  ;  ours  in  full,  as  if  there  were  no  other  re- 
generate soul,  no  other  illuminnted  hrnrt,  no  other 


414  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Seum. 

intelligence,  no  other  living  spirit.  We  share  an 
universal  gift,  which  is  whole  in  all,  and  perfect 
in  every  one ;  of  which  none  can  challenge  our 
right,  or  rob  us  of  our  portion.  So  it  is  with  Him- 
self. He  took  our  manhood,  and  was  made  one 
with  us ;  and  gave  Himself  for  us  as  an  atonement, 
and  to  us  as  a  Saviour.  Our  possession  of  Him, 
therefore,  is  full  and  absolute,  by  His  own  "  un- 
speakable gift." 

But  this  does  not  reach  up  to  the  fulness  of 
this  mystery.  He  gave  Himself  to  us  as  the  bride- 
groom gives  himself  to  the  bride.  It  was  an  act 
of  His  love  stooping  to  us,  giving  up,  as  it  were. 
His  right  over  Himself,  and  putting  Himself  into 
the  power  of  His  Church,  so  as  to  be  Head  to  none 
other  than  to  her.  And  this  is  why  St.  John  says, 
**  He  first  loved  us."  It  was — it  could  only  be — 
His  own  free  choice ;  His  own  first  advance ;  His 
own  unsought,  unknown  love,  by  which  He  gave  to 
His  Church  the  dowry  of  Himself.  In  this  mystery 
of  love  is  summed  up  all  that  is  inviolable,  binding, 
and  eternal.  The  force  of  this  betrothal  has  all 
strength,  human  and  divine.  He  will  never  draw 
back  from  it,  or  release  Himself,  or  annul  His  vows, 
or  cast  us  away.  On  His  side  this  is  impossible. 
The  pledge  of  His  love  is  everlasting,  as  His  love 
itself.  But  not  only  is  this  a  mystery  of  strength 
and  of  eternity,  but  of  tenderness,  care,  pity,  and 


XXII]  IHE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  415 

compassion.  "  No  man  ever  yet  hated  liis  own 
flesh ;  but  nourisheth  and  cherisheth  it,  even  as 
the  Lord  the  Church  :  for  we  are  members  of  His 
bodv,  of  His  flesh,  and  of  His  bones.'"  These  thinirs 
are  not  to  be  explained  away  into  figures  and  me- 
taphors, or  to  be  lowered  by  lax  interpretations. 
They  reveal  great  verities  of  the  Spirit ;  eternal 
realities  of  the  new  creation.  Husband  never  loved 
a  wife ;  bridegroom,  in  the  first  gladness  of  perfect 
afi'ection,  never  loved  a  bride,  with  a  love  so  deep, 
fervent,  tender,  self-forgetting,  as  that  love  which 
binds  the  Son  of  God  to  the  Church  for  which  He 
died.  The  coldness  of  our  natural  heart,  and  the 
remote  abstractions  of  reason,  make  us  to  content 
ourselves  with  a  theory  of  God's  love  which  belongs 
to  the  schools  of  philosophy,  not  to  the  revelation 
of  the  Gospel.  But  the  love  that  is  revealed  to 
us  in  Christ,  is  all  that  is  of  God,  with  all  tliat  is 
of  man.  It  is  divine  in  its  perfection,  and  human 
in  its  intimate  embrace  of  our  most  vivid  and  ten- 
der emotions.  **  My  l>elovcd  is  mine"  He  lias  so 
given,  pledged,  and  bound  Himscdf  to  me  ;  He  lias 
so  fulfilled,  confirmed,  and  assured  me  of  His  bonds 
and  pledges  ;  that  I  ought  sooner  to  doubt  th;it 
He  made  nie  tlinii  tli;il  lie  Ioncs  ine  ;  tlint  iiiv  own 
sight  or  soul  are  mine,  than  that  He  is  mine  ; 
mine  by  every  sense  in  which  the  word  rwn  he 
^  Ephes.  V.  29,  30. 


416  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

spoken  ;    mine  as  my  help,  head,  shelter,  protec- 
tion, guide,  happiness,  and  everlasting  rest. 

Q,.  And  next,  these  words  mean  that,  in  giving 
Himself  to  be  ours,  He  took  us  to  be  His  own. 
*'  And  I  am  His."  It  is  a  full  contract,  binding 
both,  though  made  and  accomplished  by  Himself 
alone.  He  created  us  when  we  were  not  ;  He 
redeemed  us  when  we  were  dead  in  sin  ;  He  re- 
generated us  when  we  were  born  in  uncleanness  ; 
He  called  us  by  all  the  vocations  of  His  truth 
and  Spirit  when  we  were  unconscious,  forgetful,  or 
rebellious ;  He  strove  with  us  when  we  were  im- 
penitent ;  He  converted  us  when  we  should  have 
perished  ;  He  made  Himself  ours  by  a  gift,  and 
He  has  made  us  His  own  by  the  power  of  His 
Spirit.  We  are  His,  therefore,  by  every  bond  and 
title.  We  are  bought,  purchased,  redeemed ;  we 
are  pledged,  vowed,  and  betrothed  ;  but  better  than 
all  these.  He  has  made  us  to  be  His  by  the  free, 
willing,  and  glad  consent  of  our  own  heart.  This 
is  why  we  may  call  Him,  "  My  Beloved."  Because 
after  all  His  miracles  of  creation  and  redemption, 
of  our  new  birth  and  of  His  long-suiFering,  He 
has  wrought  one  more,  greater  than  all ;  He  has 
made  us  to  love  Him  in  return.  Who  that  re- 
members what  he  was  in  childhood,  boyhood,  and 
even  the  riper  years  of  life  ;  who  that  remembers 
the  sins  and  provocations  of  his  corrupted  will,  the 


XXI  [.]         THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  417 

cold  ingratitude  and  proud  defiance  of  his  rebel- 
lious heart ;  nay,  who  that  knows  what  has  been 
the  frigid,  reluctant,  soulless  religion  of  his  seem- 
ingly devout  and  penitent  life  ;  but  must  wonder  at 
the  kindling  of  his  own  heart,  as  if  the  touch  of 
an  anofel  had  broun^ht  fire  out  of  a  rock  ?  It  is 
nothing  less  than  a  miracle  in  the  order  of  the  new 
creation  of  God  ;  and  to  be  the  subject  of  such  a 
miracle  is  full  of  wonder  and  awe.  It  is  no  less  a 
work  of  the  Holy  Ghost  than  the  tongues  of  fire 
which  sat  upon  the  apostles  in  the  day  of  Pentecost. 
What  more  wonderful  than  that  we  should  begin 
to  desire  His  love  whom  we  habitually  slighted  ; 
and  to  sorrow  most  of  all  that  we  cannot  love  Ilim 
again  ?  Strange,  that  what  was  once  without  sa- 
vour should  now  be  sweeter  than  the  droppings  of 
the  honeycomb  ;  that  our  hearts  should  beat,  and 
thrill,  and  tremble  with  the  desire,  not  so  mucli  to 
be  loved  by  Ilim  as  to  love  Ilim  above  all  ;  that 
our  chief  disquiet  should  be  our  own  loveless 
spirit,  and  our  highest  joy  the  least  kindling  of 
our  soul  towards  Ilim.  What  is  this  but  '*  a 
change  from  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High  ?" 
The  gift  of  love  to  Him  is  the  greatest  gift  of  all. 
If  we  have  tliis  one  gift,  though  besides  we  have 
nothing,  yet  we  have  all  things  ;  though  wr.  had 
all  things,  without  this  we  should  have  nothing. 
What  a  mystery  of  wonder  is  the  company  of  His 

VOL.   III.  E  K 


418  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

elect ;  from  righteous  Abel  to  the  Annunciation,  and 
much  more  from  that  time  unto  this  day.  What 
is  the  inward  life  of  that  great  company,  of  whom 
the  world  was  not  worthy  ?  What  was  their  aim, 
hope,  and  stay  ?  What  drew  them  out  from  home 
and  kindred,  and  knit  them  into  a  new  fellowship, 
—  in  the  world  hut  not  of  it, — neither  a  tem- 
poral state  nor  a  retired  household,  but  a  king- 
dom wide  as  the  earth,  in  every  land,  of  every 
tongue,  under  every  sky,  always  suffering,  never 
failing,  perpetually  replenishing  from  some  unseen 
source,  outliving  races  and  dynasties,  awing  and 
binding  kings  in  chains,  subduing  the  roughest 
wills,  and  changing  the  rudest  natures,  —  what,  I 
say,  has  been  the  secret  life,  energy,  and  power 
of  this  miracle  of  God,  but  the  mystical  union 
and  marriage  between  Christ  and  His  elect,  "  the 
love  of"  His  "  espousals,"  the  divine  virtue  of  these 
few  words,  "  My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  His  ?" 
This  has  been  the  strength  of  prophets  and  apos- 
tles ;  this  has  made  martyrs,  saints,  and  peni- 
tents ;  the  love  of  Christ  and  His  Church,  imiting 
both  in  one  flesh  and  one  spirit,  with  one  heart 
and  will,  in  life  and  in  death.  This,  then,  is  the 
plain  meaning,  shortly  expressed,  as  needs  must  be, 
of  these  words.  And  they  are  full  of  all  manner 
of  consolation.     For  instance  : 

1.    They   interpret  to  us  the  whole    discipline 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  419 

of  sorrow.  It  is  most  certain  that,  if  it  were  not 
necessary  for  our  very  salvation,  He  Avould  never 
send  affliction.  That  we  should  be  afflicted,  is 
more  against  the  tenderness  of  His  love  for  us 
than  against  the  delicacy  of  our  love  for  ourselves. 
When  it  comes,  it  is  a  proof  how  much  He  loves 
us ;  so  much,  indeed,  that  He  would  rather  afflict 
us  than  let  us  perish.  Most  of  our  sorrows  are  the 
close  followers  of  positive  sins.  We  draw  them 
upon  ourselves.  And  He,  in  His  mercy,  turns 
what  we  make  penal  into  purification.  Sometimes 
they  are  sorrows  not  in  the  order  of  nature  but  of 
providence ;  and  are  then  laid  on  by  Him  to  purge 
us  of  some  spiritual  disease,  which,  if  left  alone, 
must  be  our  death.  Such  are  the  deadly  sins  and 
their  chastisements. 

But  passing  over  these  ;  the  love  He  has  to  us, 
and  the  right  to  our  undivided  love,  make  Him  im- 
patient of  our  estranged  affections.  He  is  '*  a  jea- 
lous God,  even  a  consuming  fire."  And  He  will 
not  endure  that  we  should  give  to  others  or  to  our- 
selves what  is  due  to  Him  alone.  If  you  would  take 
this  as  a  key,  it  would  open  to  you  the  darkest  pas- 
sages of  your  past  life.  IJc  has  l)cen  weaning  you 
from  irregular  and  excessive  affections.  After  the 
love  of  gross  sin  is  cast  out,  self  and  the  world  long 
hold  their  sway.  Men  love  and  aim  at  power,  rank, 
reputation,  wealth,  high  relations,  great  friendships  ; 


4^20  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

or  it  may  be  they  turn  to  intellect  and  literature, 
and  to  the  subtil  allurements  of  a  purer  and  more 
refined  self-love  ;  or  still  more  subtil,  they  take  up 
even  the  sanctities  of  religion  and  of  His  service  as 
the  subject-matter  of  their  energy  and  self-esteem, 
or  of  their  repose  and  self-indulgent  consolation. 
They  love  power  over  other  minds,  and  the  more 
so  in  proportion  as  that  power  is  higher,  purer, 
and  more  intense.  They  make  to  themselves 
thrones  in  the  reason  or  the  imagination,  in  the 
conscience  or  the  heart"  of  others.  And  what 
is  sadder  still,  they  use  even  the  name,  the  per- 
son, and  the  passion  of  the  Son  of  God  as  the 
occasion  and  material  of  ministering  to  their  own 
service.  This  sounds  very  startling  and  sinful, 
and  perhaps  many  may  say  that  they  are  wholly 
innocent  of  it ;  indeed,  perhaps  few  will  confess 
themselves  to  be  guilty.  And  yet,  what  is  ambi- 
tion, vanity,  self-importance,  whether  worldly,  li- 
terary, or  spiritual,  but  this  ?  The  plain  inter- 
pretation of  such  sins  is,  that  they  are  a  transfer 
of  your  affections  from  the  heavenly  Bridegroom 
to  the  world,  or  to  yourselves.  And  this,  in  His 
love.  He  will  not  suffer.  He  will  lay  on  the  rod, 
stroke  after  stroke,  till  He  has  wakened  you  to 
know  yourselves.  He  will  never  leave  you  till  He 
make  you  to  desire  that  you  may  be  supplanted, 
dispossessed,  dethroned  in  the  heart  of  every  crea- 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  421 

ture,  so  that  you  may  rest  on  His  heart  alone. 
Sharp  as  the  discipline  may  be,  and  sick  at  soul 
as  you  must  be  under  it,  yet  the  time  will  come 
when  you  will  feel  it  a  sharper  anguish  to  be  con- 
scious of  any  affection  at  variance  with  your  love 
to  Him ;  when  you  will  sicken  with  a  far  deeper 
self-abasement  at  every  feeling  or  thought  which 
betrays  the  stubborn  vividness  of  self-love. 

There  is  somethinf^  unutterablv  humblinf^  in 
the  inward  consciousness  of  any  one  heart-sin,  such 
as  envy  or  vanity,  which  makes  it  impossible  for  us 
to  rest  sincerely  and  altogether  in  His  love.  Such 
sins  shew  at  once  that  we  have  not  passed  out  of 
ourselves,  but  that  we  are  still  festering  in  the  very 
core  of  self.  Now  all  these  He  will  expel,  one  by 
one  ;  gently  if  it  may  be,  or  all  together,  if  it  must 
be,  by  some  overwhelming  stroke.  And  besides 
this  purgation  of  sins,  He  also  will  not  cease  to  visit 
us  till  He  restore  unity  ;nid  measure  even  to  our 
pure  affections.  The  order  of  love  is,  that  we 
should  love  Him  with  all  our  soul,  and  others  as 
ourselves.  Such  is  the  charity  of  Heaven;  the  love 
of  blessed  spirits  round  His  throne.  But  with  us, 
all  is  disorder  and  division.  What  is  the  order  of 
our  sensible  and  active  love  ?  We  love  first  our- 
selves greatly,  then  our  friends  a  little,  and  then 
God  least  of  all.  Therefore  He  will  not  stay  His 
hand  till  all  this  be  reversed.     Hence  come  losses 


422  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

and  disappointments,  baffled  hopes,  and  a  multitude 
of  graves.  The  lesson  must  be  learnt ;  and  if  you 
cannot  learn  it  in  a  throng,  you  must  learn  it  in  soli- 
tude. He  will  be  "  the  first  and  the  last,"  the  chief 
and  all  in  your  hearts ;  and  that  not  for  His  own 
sake,  but  for  yours.  He  will  have  you  to  draw  out 
and  realise  the  whole  of  your  bond  and  betrothal 
with  Him,  that  you  may  sit  down  with  Him,  and 
with  all  your  beloved  ones,  at  the  great  marriage 
supper.  It  is  a  good  thing,  then,  to  try  ourselves 
often,  and  to  ask,  "  If  such  or  such  a  solace  were 
taken  aw^ay,  could  I  stay  myself  upon  His  love  ? 
If  I  had  none  of  these  things,  would  He  suffice  me? 
If  He  should  say.  Keep  all  without  Me ;  or  give 
up  all,  and  keep  Me  alone ;  which  should  I  choose  ? 
If  I  could  now  leave  all,  and  go  to  sit  at  His  feet, 
would  this  be  happiness  ?"  If  not,  then  let  us  not 
wonder  if  we  be  chastened.  Let  us  not  doubt  His 
tenderness  in  afflicting.  It  is  because  He  sees 
that,  with  this  blessing  or  that  happiness,  with  this 
friend  or  that  child,  you  will  never  be  able  to  say, 
"  I  am  His."  Therefore  He  makes  your  heart 
empty,  that  your  love  may  gather  itself  again  in 
strength,  and  fasten  upon  Him  alone.  Not  only 
are  His  chastisements  in  love,  but  they  are  for  love, 
for  the  sake  of  love.  The  final  end  is,  that  we 
may  be  made  perfect  in  love  ;  that  the  gift  of  His 
love  may  be  shed  abroad  in  us,  and  a  drop  of  that 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  423 

holy  fire  which  He  came  to  kindle  may  fall  into  oui 
hearts,  and  purge  them  seven  times  for  Himself. 

2.  But  in  this  we  see  further  the  true  pledge 
of  our  perseverance  unto  the  end.  Our  whole  sal- 
vation is  begun,  continued,  and  ended  in  His  love. 
There  is  no  other  account  to  be  oiven  of  it.     How 

o 

this  is  interwoven  with  the  intricate  mystery  of  our 
probation,  we  cannot  now  discern.  Why  should 
we  ?  If  we  cannot  believe  this,  where  is  our  faith  ? 
To  w^hat  fountain  but  His  changeless  love  can  we 
trace  up  the  stream  of  mercy,  which  has  borne  us 
onward  unto  this  day  ?  His  grace  descended  upon 
us  when  we  were  unconscious.  It  bare  with  us 
through  long  years  of  sinful  ignorance  ;  it  re- 
strained us  from  unknown  ways  of  perdition,  on 
which  we  were  resolutely  bent ;  it  converted  us 
when  we  w^cre  dead  in  security  ;  it  has  upheld  us 
through  all  dangers,  declensions,  and  swervings, 
even  to  this  day.  If  He  had,  at  any  hour,  re- 
nounced His  pledges  with  us,  we  must  have  per- 
ished. Here  is  the  wonderful  token  of  His  patient 
love.  He  has  preserviul  us  not  only  fi-oiii  the 
power  of  sin,  but  from  ;iii(l  against  ourselves.  Not 
only  would  sin  have  destroyed  us,  l)ut  we  should 
have  destroyed  ourselves.  He  lias  watched  over 
us  as  a  guide  and  keeper.  While  we  have  IxM'n 
strun-jilinir  to  break  from  Him,  I J  is  love  has  lu^ld 
US  fast.     He  held  us,  pitying  our  ignorance,  know- 


424  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

ing  our  will,  that  as  yet  we  had  no  true  will  of  our 
own,  but  a  slavish  will ;  a  will  not  free,  because  in 
bondage  to  our  own  sins.  It  is  as  if  He  had  said, 
**  Thou  shalt  not  perish  so.  Thou  shalt  at  least 
first  see  Me,  and  thyself  in  My  light ;  and  then 
perish  if  thou  wilt, —  if  thou  canst." 

And  that  same  love  is  the  pledge  of  blessings 
yet  to  come.     He  that  kept  us  from  perishing  when 
we  were  willing  to  perish,  will  surely  keep  us  from 
perishing  now  that  we  are  trembling  to  be  saved. 
If  He  kept  us  while  we  loved  the  sweetness  of  sin, 
He  will,  beyond  all  doubt,  hold  us  up  now  that  we 
abhor  it.     It  is  from  this  love  of  sin  that  He  will 
save  us.     When  we  are  overcome  with  shame  and 
fear  because  sin  is   still  alluring  to  our  eyes  and 
pleasant  to  the  taste,  we  may  go  to  Him  with  this 
special  confidence,  that  He  will  either  make  it  to 
be  hideous  and  bitter,   or  He  will  give   us  grace 
to  withstand  it  to  the  end.     If  sin  were  hateful 
and  tormenting,  like  sharp  wounds  or  searing  irons, 
where  would  be  our  danger  ?     "  No  man  ever  yet 
hated  his  own  flesh  ;"  no  man  would  be  in  peril 
of  torturing  himself  into  perdition.     It  is  only  be- 
cause sin  is  sweet  that  it  is  perilous  ;  and  if  it  be 
sweet  to  us,  it  is  because  we  are  fallen  and  in  a 
state  of  trial.     He  will  not  count  us  guilty  because 
sin  is  alluring,  but  only  because  we  consent  to  its 
allurement.     To  hate  it  in  spite  of  its  sweetness, 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  4i25 

and  to  hate  it  for  its  sweetness,  to  be  humbled  with 
shame  and  sorrow  at  the  consciousness  that  it  has 
any  power  over  us,  and  we  any  susceptibility  of  its 
attraction, — this  is  His  work  in  us,  and  the  pledge 
of  our   safety.      Against   this   life-long   peril    our 
strength   is  His  love.     We   may  go  to  Him,  and 
hold  fast  by  Him,   and  none  of  these  things  shall 
set  on  us  to  hurt  us.     But  perhaps  we  may  say, 
"Yes,  this  I  would  do,  if  I  were  sure  of  myself; 
but  here  is  my  chief  misgiving  and  my  greatest 
danger, — the  instability,  changeableness,  fickleness 
of  myself :  what  can  I  say  to  this  ?"     Wc  may  say, 
"  I  am  not  my  own  ;  I  am  His.     I  cannot  help  my- 
self.    If  He  should  give  me  into  my  own  keeping, 
I  should  perish  outright.     My  intentions,  my  reso- 
lutions, my  strength,  my  strivings,  are  fiiint,  trea- 
cherous, soon  wearied  out,  soon  abandoned ;  but  I 
can  give  myself  over  into  His  hands,  and  ask  Him 
to  keep  me ;  for  I  cannot  keep  myself."     This  wc 
may  answer.     And  what  more  would  we  desire  to 
sav  ?     AVhat  more  can  we  say  than  this  :    *'  I  am 
sinful,  prone  to  fall,  ready  to  slide  at  every  sto]). 
Every  kind  of  sin  is  stronger  than  I.     Pride,  vain- 
glory, sloth,  envy,  anger,  and  the  like,  seize  on  nie, 
and  infuse  themselves  into  my  heart,  even  against 
my  will.     Sometimes,  for  a  moment,  I  even  consent 
to  them  ;   or,   if  I  do  not  consent  to  them,  I  feel 
them  with  such  a  fulness   and  vividness   as  shews 


426  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm. 

my  heart  to  be  of  their  close  kindred.  And  be- 
sides this,  the  wayward,  moody,  cold,  estranged, 
loveless  temper  of  my  own  mind  is  always  making 
breaches  between  Him  and  me.  I  am  always  ready 
to  perish,  always  perishing  in  my  own  hands.  The 
root  of  death  is  in  my  own  soul.  It  is  against  my- 
self that  I  need  a  helper."  Blessed  hope  and  trust ; 
we  may  give  ourselves  into  His  hands  ;  we  may 
go  to  Him,  and  trembling  say,  "  T  am  afraid  of 
myself,  and  dare  not  trust  myself  alone.  Take  me ; 
for  I  am  not  my  own.  I  am  Thine,  by  my  bond 
and  pledge,  by  Thine  own  blood  and  by  Thine  own 
love,  by  Thy  promise  and  by  Thy  betrothal.  Take 
that  Thine  is,  and  keep  it  for  me,  lest  I  lose  it 
utterly."  What  more  can  we  say  or  need  ?  "I 
know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded 
that  He  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  com- 
mitted unto  Him  against  that  day.'" 

3.  And  lastly,  in  this  there  is  our  true  and  only 
stay  in  death.  If  we  were  saints,  if  we  loved  Him 
with  all  our  soul  and  with  all  our  strength,  the 
most  blessed  day  in  life  would  be  the  last.  To 
go  and  be  with  Him  whom  our  soul  loveth ;  to  be 
for  ever  with  Him,  gazing  upon  His  face  of  love, 
ourselves  sinless  and  living  by  love  alone, — this 
is  heaven.  Does  it  not  shame  and  affright  us  to 
read  how  His  true  servants,  not  only  the  greater, 

1  2  Tim.  i.  12. 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  427 

but  even  those  who  were  among  the  least,  have 
panted  for  that  meeting  ;  counting  life  a  banish- 
ment, and  the  world  desolate,  and  time  laggard 
and  slow  ?  When  the  forerunners  of  death  seemed 
to  appear  and  greet  them,  when  friends  were  full 
of  eager  sorrow,  they  rejoiced  ;  evil  tidings  were 
to  them  glad  tidings  of  good  ;  for  the  end  of  their 
pilgrimage  was  come,  and  the  vision  of  peace  all 
but  revealed.  Why  was  this  so  with  them  ?  why 
did  they  not  shrink  and  tremble  ?  why  did  not 
their  hearts  beat  with  the  fear  of  death  ? 

Why,  but  because  they  could  say,  from  the  soul 
of  their  very  being,  "  My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I 
am  His."  "  Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear.  .  .  .  lie 
that  feareth  is  not  made  perfect  in  love."^  We 
are  conscious  of  many  sins,  of  a  poor  languid  re- 
pentance, of  a  weak  faith,  doubting  hope,  and  of 
a  love  rather  in  word  and  in  tongue,  in  the  reason 
and  imagination,  than  in  life  and  heart.  A  sense 
of  our  unfitness  to  call  Ilim  "  My  Beloved,"  or  to 
stand  before  Ilim  as  His,  —  this  shakes  our  very 
soul  with  fear.  In  such  an  liour  wlierc  shall  we 
find  a  stay?  Where  but  in  this,  "He  loves  me; 
He  loves  me  more  than  I  love  myself.  On  His 
side  this  is  sure.  On  mine  ;  I  love;  Him.  He 
knows  liow  little,  yet  He  knows  I  do;  or  :il,  h'ast, 
that  to  love  Ilim  is  my  desire.  *  Lord,  'I'liou 
'    1  St.  Johniv.  18. 


428  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Seum. 

Imowest  that  I  love  Tlicc'  '  Who  shall  separate 
me  from  the  love  of  Christ  ?'  He  will  not,  and  I 
dare  not.  "Who,  then,  can  ?  The  powers  of  this 
world  cannot  reach  into  the  world  unseen.  The 
gates  of  hell  cannot  prevail  against  the  Rock  on 
which  I  stand.  Satan  hath  nothing  in  Him,  nor 
throusfh  Him  in  me.  It  is  sin  that  drives  me 
closer  to  His  Cross.  My  own  will  I  have  given 
into  His  hand ;  He  will  not  leave  me  to  myself. 

Let  us  ask  again,  "Who,  then,  shall  separate 
me  ?  There  is  none  that  can.  Though  all  powers 
of  hell  be  against  me  for  my  unutterable  guilt,  all 
holy  powers  are  on  my  side.  God  the  Father 
loves  me,  and  gave  His  Son  for  me ;  God  the  Son 
loves  me,  and  gave  Himself  to  me ;  God  the  Holy 
Ghost  loves  me,  and  has  regenerated,  prevented, 
restrained,  converted  me  ;  the  ever-blessed  Trinity 
loves  me,  and  desires  my  salvation  ;  all  heavenly 
powers  and  all  holy  angels  love  and  rejoice  over 
one  penitent  soul.  The  whole  world  unseen  is 
benign  and  blessed,  full  of  love  to  sinners,  '  of 
whom  I  am  chief.'  I  give  myself  into  the  hands 
of  a  boundless  love  :  as  an  infinite  misery,  I  cast 
myself  upon  an  infinite  mercy.  This  is  my  only 
stay,  but  it  is  all-sufficing."  Let  this  be  your  an- 
swer. 

But  that  we  may  be  able  to  cast  ourselves  on 
this  in  death,  we  must  make  it  our  perpetual  stay 


XXII.]  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  4*29 

in  life.  We  must  live  in  the  grace  of  faith,  hope, 
and  love  ;  or  when  our  trial  comes,  we  shall  find 
our  hearts  fearful,  doubtful,  and  shrinking.  Let 
us  more  and  more  strive  to  see  Him  by  faith,  by 
the  vision  of  our  hearts,  and  to  rest  ourselves  upon 
a  full  trust  of  His  loving-kindness.  Above  all, 
let  our  labour  and  our  prayer  be,  that  we  may 
love  Him  with  a  unitino^  and  absorbinof  love.  For 
what  end  did  we  come  into  this  world,  but  that 
we  might  be  united  to  Him  eternally  ?  What 
is  the  end  for  which  we  were  redeemed,  yea,  by 
the  foreknowledge  of  God  created,  but  that  we 
should  be  one  with  Him,  as  He  is  with  the 
Father  ?  The  old  creation  was  but  a  type  of  the 
new  ;  the  first  espousals  a  shadow  of  that  eter- 
nal marriage  between  the  second  Adam  and  the 
Church  of  the  elect.  Wonderful,  and  surpassing 
all  thought  and  heart  of  man  I  Our  spiritual  sight 
is  darkened  before  so  great  a  splendour.  What 
seems  to  us  to  be  but  a  restorati(m  is  the  ascent 
of  a  perfect  work.  The  first  is  last,  and  the  last 
first.  *'  Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive 
glory,  and  honour,  and  power :  for  Thou  hast 
created  all  things,  and  for  Thy  pleasure  they  arc 
and  were  created.'"  "  And  I  heard  as  it  were 
the  voice  of  a  great  multiludc,  and  as  the  voice 
of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty  llnm- 
1  Rev.  iv.  11. 


430  THE  GREAT  BETROTHAL.  [Serm.  XXII. 

derings,  saying,  Alleluia  :  for  the  Lord  God  omni- 
potent reigneth.  Let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  and 
give  honour  to  Him  :  for  the  marriage  of  the 
Lamb  is  come,  and  His  wife  hath  made  herself 
ready.  And  to  her  was  granted  that  she  should 
be  arrayed  in  fine  linen,  clean  and  white :  for  the 
fine  linen  is  the  righteousness  of  saints.  And  he 
saith  unto  me,  Write,  Blessed  are  they  which  are 
called  unto  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb.  And 
he  saith  unto  me,  These  are  the  true  sayings  of 
God."^ 

1  Rev.  xix.  6-9. 


SEEMON  XXIII. 


THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY. 


Isaiah  xxxiii.  17. 

"  Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  His  beauty  :  they  shall  behold 
the  land  that  is  very  far  off." 

These  words  are  so  plain  a  prophecy  of  the  beatific 
vision  in  the  kingdom  of  the  resurrection,  that  we 
may  pass  over  the  earthly  and  typical  fulfilment 
they  have  already  received  ;  and  go  at  once  to  the 
thought  of  what  shall  he  hereafter.  Who  is  this 
King  but  He  on  whose  head  St.  John  saw  many 
crowns ;  on  whose  vesture  and  on  whose  thigh  was 
written  the  name  of  power  :  "  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords  ?" 

And  "  the  land  that  is  very  far  off;"  what  is 
it  but  that  same  of  which  Zccliariah  prophesied  .? 
"  The  Lord  tlieir  God  shall  save  them  in  thsit  day 
as  the  flock  of  I  lis  people  ;  for  they  shall  be  as  the 
stones  of  a  crown,  lifted  up  as  nn  ensign  upon  His 


432  THE  VISION  OF  BEALiTY.  [Serm, 

land."i  It  can  be  no  other  than  the  heavenly 
country,  for  love  of  which  God's  elect  have  lived 
as  strangers  in  the  earth — a  land  far  away,  over 
a  long  path  of  many  years,  up  weary  mountains, 
and  through  deep  broken  ways,  full  of  perils  and 
of  pitfalls — through  sicknesses,  and  weariness,  sor- 
rows, and  burdens,  and  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death  ;  world-worn  and  foot-sore,  they  have  been 
faring  forth,  one  by  one,  since  the  w^orld  began, 
"  going  and  w^eeping."  And  there  is  already  ga- 
thered a  multitude  which  no  man  can  number, 
in  the  last  passes  which  ascend  into  "the  land 
that  is  very  far  off." 

These  words,  then,  plainly  promise  to  every 
follower  of  Christ,  if  he  shall  persevere  unto  the 
end,  that  in  the  resurrection  he  shall  see  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  in  His  beauty,  and  in  the  glory  of 
His  kingdom. 

Let  us  now  endeavour  reverently  to  meditate  on 
this  wonderful  promise  of  bliss  :  and  may  the  light 
of  His  Spirit  cleanse  our  hearts  to  understand  so 
much  as  is  good  for  us  to  know ;  and  may  His 
pity  keep  us  back  from  vain  and  rash  thoughts  of 
so  high  a  mystery. 

What,  then,  is  this  beauty  which  shall  be  re- 
vealed to  all  who  attain  that  world  and  the  resur- 
rection of  the  holy  dead  ? 

^  Zech.  ix.  16. 


XXIII.]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  433 

J .  First,  it  would  seem  to  be  the  beauty  of  His 
heavenly  court.     Both  from  the  elder  prophets  and 
from  the  revelation  given  to   St.  John,   we  know 
that  there  is  a  sphere   and  circuit  of  which  the 
centre  is  His  throne.    Whether  this  be  called  "  the 
heaven  of  heavens,'"  or   "  the  third  heaven,"-  or 
"  eternity,'"  or  "  the  high  and  holy  place,'"  or  "  the 
light  which  no  man  can  approach  unto,"^  or  "  mount 
Zion,'"^  or  "  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth,"' 
is  all  one :  all  these  titles  of  majesty  point  to  one 
and  the  same  place  —  a  sphere  of  light  and  an  orb 
of  glory,  of  which  prophets  and  apostles  have  had 
glances  and  reflections  in  ecstacy  and  rapture.     "  I 
saw  the  Lord  sitting  on  His  throne,  and  all  the 
host  of  heaven  standing  by  Him."^     "  There  was 
under  His  feet  as  it  were  a  sapphire   stono,  and 
as  it  were  the  body  of  heaven  in  liis  clearness."" 
"  Above  it    stood   the   scraphims :    each    one    had 
six  wings ;   with   twain  he  covered  his  face,   and 
with  twain  he  covered  his  feet,  and  with  twain  lie 
did  fly.'""     "  I  will  take  My  rest,"  saith  the  Lord, 
"  and  consider  in  My  dwcllinfr-place  like  a  clear 
heat  upon  herbs,  and  like  a  cloud   of  dew  in  the 
heat  of  harvest."" 

'  1  Kings  viii.  27.  "^  2  for.  xil.  2.  ^  I.saiali  Ivii.  15. 

4  Ibid.  Ivii.  15.  •'  1  'I'nn.  vi.  IG.         ''  Ilcb.  xii.  22. 

^  Rev.  xxi.  1.  **  1  Kings  xxii.  19. 

9  Exod.  xxiv.  10.  ^^  Isaiah  vi.  2.  "  Ch.  xviii.  4. 

VOL.  III.  F  F 


434<  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  [Seiim. 

What  was  in  this  way  revealed  only  through  a 
veil  of  old,  is  now,  by  the  rending  of  the  veil,  made 
manifest  and  open.  "  When  the  Son  of  Man  shall 
sit  in  the  throne  of  His  glory,  ye  also  shall  sit  upon 
twelve  thrones."'  "  Behold,  a  throne  was  set  in 
heaven,  and  One  sat  on  the  throne.  And  He  that 
sat  was  to  look  upon  like  a  jasper  and  a  sardine 
stone :  and  there  was  a  rainbow  round  about  the 
throne,  in  sight  like  unto  an  emerald.  And  round 
about  the  throne  were  four  and  twenty  seats  :  and 
upon  the  seats  I  saw  four  and  twenty  elders  sitting, 
clothed  in  white  raiment ;  and  they  had  on  their 
heads  crowns  of  gold."-  "  Lo,  in  the  midst  of 
the  throne  stood  a  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain."^ 
"  Lo,  a  great  multitude,  which  no  man  could  num- 
ber, of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and 
tongues,  stood  before  the  throne,  and  before  the 
Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes,  and  palms  in  their 
hands."^  "  And  I  looked,  and,  lo,  a  Lamb  stood 
on  the  Mount  Sion,  and  with  Him  an  hundred 
and  forty  and  four  thousanrl,  having  His  Father's 
Name  written  in  their  foreheads.  And  I  heard  a 
voice  from  heaven,  as  the  voice  of  many  waters, 
and  as  the  voice  of  a  great  thunder  :  and  I  heard 
the  voice  of  harpers  harping  with  their  harps.  And 
they  sung  as  it  were  a  new  song  before  the  throne, 

1  St.  Matt.  xix.  28.  ^  Rgv.  iv.  2-4. 

3  Rev.  V.  6.  ''  Ch.  vii.  9. 


XXIII.]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  435 

and  before  the  four  beasts,  and  the  elders  :  and  no 
man  could  learn  that  song  but  the  hundred  and 
forty  and  four  thousand,  which  were  redeemed  from 
the  earth."^  "  Come  hither  ;  I  will  shew  thee 
the  bride,  the  Lamb's  wife.  And  he  carried  me 
away  in  the  spirit  to  a  great  and  high  mountain, 
and  shewed  me  that  great  city,  the  holy  Jerusalem, 
descendinof  out  of  heaven  from  God,  havinof  the 
glory  of  God  :  and  her  light  was  like  unto  a  stone 
most  precious,  even  like  a  jasper  stone,  clear  as 
crystal ;  and  had  a  wall  great  and  high,  and  had 
twelve  gates,  and  at  the  gates  twelve  angels,  and 
names  written  thereon,  which  are  the  names  of 
the  twelve  tribes  of  the  children  of  Israel :  on  the 
east  three  gates ;  on  the  north  three  gates  ;  on  the 
south  three  gates  ;  and  on  the  west  three  gates. 
And  the  wall  of  the  city  had  twelve  foundations, 
and  in  them  the  names  of  the  twelve  apostles  of  tlie 

Lamb And  tlie   twelve  gates   were  twelve 

pearls  ;  every  several  gate  was  of  one  pearl  :  and 
the  street  of  the  city  was  pure  gold,  as  it  were 
transparent  glass.  And  I  saw  no  temple  therein : 
for  the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  Laml)  arc  llu^ 
temple  of  it.  And  th(5  city  liad  no  need  of  tlie  sun, 
neither  of  the  moon,  to  sliinc  in  it  :  foi-  the  ,t;lory  of 
God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  there- 
of."^    "  And  he  shewed  me  a  pure  river  of  water 

1  Rev.  xiv.  1-3.  ^  ch_  xxi.  9-14.  21-'j;5. 


436  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  [Serm. 

of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne 
of  God,  and  of  the  Lamb.  In  the  midst  of  the 
street  of  it,  and  on  either  side  of  the  river,  was 
there  the  tree  of  life,  which  bare  twelve  manner 
of  fruits,  and  yielded  her  fruit  every  month  :  and 
the  leaves  of  the  tree  w^ere  for  the  healing  of  the 
nations.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  curse  :  but 
the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  shall  be  in  it ; 
and  His  servants  shall  serve  Him  :  and  they  shall 
see  His  face  ;  and  His  Name  shall  be  in  their  fore- 
heads."^ 

It  seemed  best,  in  trying  to  realise  the  outline 
and  beauty  of  the  heavenly  court,  to  gather  to- 
gether as  much  as  we  could  from  the  clear  Scrip- 
tures of  God.  Here  we  cannot  go  astray.  What 
the  Holy  Ghost  has  revealed  of  the  home  of  saints, 
and  the  kinofdom  of  the  resurrection,  is  as  certain 
and  real  as  the  visible  creation  of  God.  If  here 
and  there  a  word  or  two  seem  to  refer  these  glorious 
visions  to  the  Church  on  earth,  and  to  prophecies 
of  its  unity  and  sanctity  in  time,  let  this  one  great 
law  of  revelation  be  remembered  :  The  prophe- 
cies and  parables  of  the  earthly  perfection  of  the 
Church  are  anticipations  of  its  perfection  in  hea- 
ven. They  are  examples  of  the  Divine  preroga- 
tive of  calling  *'  things  that  are  not,  as  though 
they  were  ;"  and  of  giving  to  germs  the  honour 

^  Rev.  xxii.  1-4. 


XXII'.]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  437 

of  maturity  ;  to  weak  beginnings  the  investiture 
and  glory  of  their  eternal  perfection.  The  visible 
Church  on  earth  is  the  sphere  on  which  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  casts  the  image  of  its  future  glorv. 
Therefore  what  we  liere  read  is  a  figure,  a  parable 
to  exalt  the  Church  on  earth  to  the  eye  of  faith ; 
but  it  is  also  a  revelation  of  the  glory  of  the  hea- 
venly court,  as  it  shall  be  hereafter  seen  by  the 
pure  in  heart. 

Let  us,  then,  sum  up,  as  we  can,  in  our  weak 
words  and  thoughts,  the  beauty  which  is  here  re- 
vealed. AVhat  is  it  but  the  glory  of  the  blessed 
Three,  and  of  the  AVord  made  flesh,  sitting  upon 
the  throne  of  the  Eternal  ?  About  Ilim  and  be- 
fore Him  are  the  companies  of  heaven,  the  hosts 
and  hierarchies  of  the  blessed,  the  nine  orders  of 
seraphic  and  angelic  ministers,  and  the  saintly  mul- 
titude of  God's  new  creation.  Vision  (jf  beauty 
too  intense  even  for  thought !  What  uuist  be  tlie 
glory  of  one  saint  made  perfect  in  the  likeness  of 
our  Lord  !  what  splendour  of  incorruption,  where 
death  and  sin  are  not  I  What,  tlien,  shall  Ix^  the 
beauty  of  that  gathered  host,  of  which  [he.  least 
would  overwhelm  our  sight  and  soul  with  hriiilit- 
ncss  ?  Armies  of  martyrs,  companies  of  proi)hets, 
the  majesty  of  ])atriarchs,  the  glory  of  apostles, 
each  (me  in  the  (nil  transfigured  beauty  of  his 
own  perfect  spirit,  and   all   revealing  the  warfare 


438  THE  VISION  of  beauty.  [Serm. 

of  faith,  the  triumph  of  the  Church,  the  power  of 
the  Cross,  the  election  of  God  j  these  are  the 
degrees  and  ascents  leading  upward  to  the  throne 
of  bliss. 

2.  But  if  such  be  the  beauty  of  the  King's  court, 
what  is  the  beauty  of  the  King  Himself?  of  His 
glorious  Person  as  very  God  and  very  man  ?  It 
is  not  for  us  to  let  loose  our  imagination  with- 
out warrant,  or  at  least  wathout  adumbrations  of 
truth,  without  either  tokens  or  shadows  which  re- 
veal the  forms  from  which  they  fall.  And  in  holy 
Scripture  we  have  some  such  intimations.  Isaiah 
promises  that  we  shall  see  "  His  beauty."  Ze- 
chariah  breaks  out,  even  from  afar  off,  and  with  a 
faint  sight  of  His  person  dimly  revealed  :  "  How 
great  is  His  beauty!"'  Solomon  in  spirit  and  in 
the  person  of  the  Church  says,  He  is  "  the  chief- 
est  amonor  ten  thousand.  His  mouth  is  most  sweet, 
yea,  He  is  altogether  lovely.  This  is  my  Beloved, 
and  this  is  my  Friend."^  And  David,  "  Thou 
art  fairer  than  the  children  of  men."^  Do  not 
these  things  lead  us  on  to  understand  why  the 
child  Jesus,  as  He  "  increased  in  wisdom  and  sta- 
ture," increased  also  "  in  favour  with  God  and 
man  :"*  why  His  very  presence  should  have  had 
a  power  to  awaken  love,  as  it  also  awakened  won- 

1  Zech.  ix.  17.  2  Song  of  Sol.  v.  10,  16. 

3  Ps.  xlv.  2.  4  St.  Luke  ii.  52. 


XXIIL]  THE  VISION   OF  BEAUTY.  4o9 

der  at  "  His  understanding  and  answers ;'"  "  at 
the  gracious  words  which  proceeded  out  of  His 
mouth."-  Surely  it  was  something  more  than  in- 
terior beauty  which  drew  to  Him  the  sick,  the 
sorrowing,  the  sinful,  the  helpless,  with  such 
mighty  attraction.  For  the  interior  beauty  of  the 
spirit  needs  a  spiritual  eye.  When  Isaiah  fore- 
tells that  He  should  have  "no  form  nor  comeli- 
ness, and  when  we  shall  see  Him,  there  is  no 
beauty  that  we  should  desire  Him  ;'"  he  seems 
plainly  to  speak  of  the  worldly  attraction  and 
royal  beauty  for  which  the  Jews  were  lusting,  of 
that  "  observation"  which  was  no  forerunner  or 
herald  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  does  not  speak 
of  that  Presence  before  which  the  multitudes 
gave  way,  as  the  waters  clave  before  tlie  ark  of 
God  ;  and  at  the  sight  of  which  a  host,  armed  to 
take  Him,  went  backward  and  fell  to  tlio  ground. 
It  is  surely  no  light  thing  that  the  Christian 
world,  in  its  universal  tradition  of  half  a  hundred 
generations,  has  piously  and  intimately  believed 
that  the  second  Adam,  like  the  lirst,  bore  the  out- 
ward signatures  of  God's  perfect  hand.  It  is  not 
without  some  deep  reason,  dwc^lliiig  in  universal 
belief  among  those  countless  things  whicli,  if  writ- 
ten, should  have  filled  the  whole  world  with  Scrip- 

'  St.  Luke  ii.  47.  -^  Ch.  iv.  2'J. 

^  Isaiah  liii.  2. 


440  THE  VISION   OF  BEAUTY.  [Sekm. 

tiircs ;  or  in  the  intuitions  of  the  Spirit,  or  in  the 
instincts  of  love,  or  in  the  self-evident  harmonies 
of  God's  works ;  it  is  not,  I  say,  without  some  or 
all  of  these  reasons,  that  the  world  has  believed 
that  prophets,  psalmists,  and  seers,  knew  what  they 
spake,  and  spake  what  they  beheld.  It  is  a  par- 
donable fault  to  take  them  in  the  letter  of  their 
words,  and  a  harmless  error  to  go  astray  with  the 
belief  of  Christendom.  We  shall  not  be  danger- 
ously out  of  the  way,  if  we  lovingly  and  humbly  be- 
lieve that  He  who  is  the  brightness  of  His  Father's 
glory,  and  the  express  image  of  His  person,  did 
take  unto  Himself  our  manhood,  as  His  revealed 
presence  for  ever,  in  its  most  perfect  image  and 
likeness  ;  that  where  two  natures  were  united,  as 
both  were  perfect,  so  both  were  beautiful.  I  know 
not  what  he  may  be  to  whom  such  a  thought  is  not 
blessed.  We  bear  witness  to  it  by  the  fond,  blind 
way  in  which  we  invest  all  we  love  with  beauty. 
Even  the  least  comely  and  ill-favoured  are  lovely  to 
those  that  love  them.  Our  minds  are  full  of  li"-hts 
and  hues,  with  which  we  array  the  objects  of  our 
hearts.  Let  each  do  as  he  will.  Only  let  us  first 
love  Him,  and  then  weigh  these  thoughts.  Till 
then,  it  is  all  too  soon. 

But  be  these  things  as  they  may,  there  is  a 
beauty  we  know  Him  to  possess  in  fulness,  the 
beauty   of  perfect   love.     If  the   hardest-featured 


XXIII.]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  441 

of  those  who  love  us  be  lovely  to  our  eyes ;  if 
the  tenderness,  sympathy,  observance,  and  anxious 
affection,  the  soul  of  love  which  speaks  from  every 
line  and  from  every  motion  of  the  eye  and  of 
the  countenance  of  friends,  draw  our  whole  heart 
into  them,  as  if  we  rather  lived  in  them  and  by 
them  than  by  a  life  in  ourselves  ;  if  their  coming 
and  their  presence,  their  speech  and  their  silent 
gaze,  be  to  us  as  beauty  and  delight ;  what  shall  be 
His  presence  and  His  countenance  in  the  kingdom 
of  the  resurrection  ?  What  shall  be  the  beauty  of 
perfect  meekness,  perfect  humility,  perfect  tender- 
ness, perfect  love,  of  perfect  delight  in  our  love, 
and  perfect  bliss  in  our  sinless  peace  ?  "  O  wonder 
of  love,  O  Friend  all  gentle,  all  pure,  all  wise,  in 
whose  presence  to  abide,  under  whose  loving  gaze 
to  dwell,  is  heaven ;  shall  we  indeed  see  Thy 
beauty?  Shall  we  see  Thy  form  all  majesty,  and 
Thy  countenance  all  love  ?  Shall  we  look  upon 
that  of  which  we  read  in  gospels,  nmse  on  before 
the  altar,  and  picture  in  the  heavens  ?  Is  it  to 
us,  is  it  to  me,  let  each  one  ask,  that  Tlioii  hast 
pledged  Thy  troth,  that  1  shall  set;  Thee  with 
these  very  eyes  wherewith  I  now  see  my  own  form 
and  the  face  of  this  fleeting  world  ?  Shall  1  see 
the  wounds,  the  five  hallowed  uouiids,  wliicii  Tlioii 
didst  shew  to  'J'liy  friends  when  the  doors  were 
shut,  on   the   night  of  the   resurrection  j    and   the 


442  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  [Sekm. 

very  print  of  the  nails,  and  the  radiant  circle  of 
Thy  crown  of  thorns  ?  And  shall  I  know  and 
feel  'All  this  was  for  me, — consciously,  and  with 
clear  intent,  suffered  upon  earth  for  me  ?'  O 
Love  greater  than  love  of  man ;  Love  of  God, 
Love  eternal,  which  created  me,  suffered  for  me, 
died  for  me,  bare  w^ith  me  in  my  long,  blind, 
stubborn  rebellions,  spared,  shielded,  restrained, 
converted  me  by  holy  inspirations,  and  the  plead- 
ings of  tender  upbraiding, — do  I  now  see  Thee  face 
to  face  ?  Art  Thou  He  that  has  ever  blessed  me 
behind  the  veil,  and  spread  over  me  day  and  night 
Thy  pierced  hands,  on  wdiose  palms  my  name  was 
graven  with  the  nails  of  crucifixion  ;  out  of  whose 
depths  has  issued  for  me  nothing  but  Thy  pre- 
cious blood  and  Thy  cleansing  grace  all  the  days 
of  my  life  ?  Now  I  behold  Thy  beauty,  '  whom 
having  not  seen,'  I  desired  to  love  ;  and  in  wdiom, 
though  I  saw  Thee  not  as  yet,  I  rejoiced,  so  far 
as  my  cold,  loveless  soul,  conscious  of  sin,  and 
shrinking  from  Thy  pure  presence,  could  rejoice 
and  love.  It  was  my  blindness  that  hid  from  me 
Thy  beauty.  If  I  had  loved,  I  should  have  per- 
ceived Thy  love  j  and  should  have  chosen  Thy 
sweetness  before  all  happiness  on  earth.  But 
Thou  hast  saved  me  from  my  sins  and  from  my- 
self, and  hast  brought  me  to  this  '  land  which 
is  very  far  off;'    far  off  from  sorrow  and   crying. 


XXIII.]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  443 

from  death  and  sin ;  and  hast  revealed  to  me 
Thy  beauty  in  the  vision  of  peace.  Lord,  it  is 
enough  :  I  desire  no  more  :  be  this  eternal,  and 
it  is  enough  for  ever."  Surely  if  we  can  venture 
to  breathe  such  things,  these  will  be  among  the 
thoughts  of  those  who  attain  that  world  and  the 
kingdom  of  the  resurrection.  But  who  can  utter 
or  conceive  the  beauty  of  the  love  of  our  ever- 
blessed  Lord  beaming  from  His  Divine  counte- 
nance, as  the  sun  shineth  in  his  strength  ?  In 
that  face  will  be  revealed  all  the  love  of  His  holy 
Incarnation,  of  His  life  of  sorrow,  of  His  agony 
and  passion,  of  His  Cross  and  death.  As  if  the 
soul  and  the  accents  of  our  manhood  were  not 
enough  to  express  His  love ;  as  if  promises  of 
grace  and  works  of  mercy  were  inarticulate.  He 
must  speak  to  us  in  the  language  of  agony,  and 
print  upon  Himself  for  ever  the  characters  of  a 
"  love  which  passeth  knowledge."  Therefore,  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne  was  seen  *'  a  Laml)  as  if 
it  had  been  slain."  The  wounds  of  His  hands  and 
feet,  and  of  His  pierced  side,  are  eternal  seals  and 
countcrsifrns  of  tlic  love  which  has  redeemed  us  for 
Himself. 

And  what  can  we  more  say?  II  ibis  Ix;  His 
beauty  as  very  man,  what  must  he.  His  beauty 
as  very  God?  What  must  be  tluit  Divine,  un- 
created beauty,  ancient  but  ever  new,  whicli,  with 


444'  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  [Serm. 

the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  also  in  the 
Son  ?  It  is  not  a  human  or  finite  love  which  shall 
be  seen  in  the  face  of  the  Word  made  flesh,  but 
the  mercy,  compassion,  tenderness,  of  the  Eternal. 
God,  who  has  revealed  Himself  to  us  in  sundry 
ways  and  in  divers  manners ;  in  the  lights  of 
heaven  and  the  beauty  of  the  earth,  in  life-giving 
seasons  and  fruitful  suns,  in  prophecies  and  pro- 
mises, in  miracles  and  visions,  by  all  the  accents 
and  in  all  the  compass  of  human  speech ;  as  if  all 
tongues  had  failed,  and  all  language  were  too  weak, 
has  for  our  sake  created  a  new  speech  and  a  new 
lano-uao'e  for  the  utterance  of  His  eternal  love.  He 
gave  the  Son  of  His  love  to  be  made  man,  to  suffer, 
and  to  die,  to  redeem  us  from  sin  and  death  ;  to 
gather  us,  by  His  Spirit,  about  His  throne,  and  to 
reveal  to  us,  through  human  sympathy  and  the 
accents  and  the  sorrows  of  our  own  nature,  the 
perfection  of  His  everlasting  love.  It  is  the  love' 
of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  the  beauty  of 
the  ever-blessed  Three,  the  Holy  One,  that  is  re- 
vealed to  us  in  the  person  of  the  King  of  Saints. 
But  here  let  us  rest  and  adore,  lest  we  break 
through  the  fence,  and  sin  against  the  majesty  not 
yet  unveiled. 

We  have  come,  then,  to  the  end  of  all  our 
thoughts  and  toils.  For  what  else  were  we  born, 
and  for  what  end  came  we  into  the  world,  but  to 


XXIII  ]  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  44.5 

behold  the  face  of  God  ?  This  is  the  end  for 
which  we  were  created  ;  to  this,  as  to  its  source 
and  rest,  our  being  tends ;  unto  this  all  the  mys- 
teries and  movements  of  His  power  and  love,  in 
nature  and  in  the  Spirit,  invite  and  draw  us.  To 
love  God,  and  to  die, — this  is  the  end  of  man  :  or 
read  it  in  the  light  of  heaven,  to  love  God,  and 
to  dwell  in  God  for  ever,  —  this  is  our  being  and 
our  bliss. 

Now  with  two  plain  thoughts,  full  of  soothing- 
hope,  we  will  make  an  end. 

1.  The  first  is,  that  the  King  whose  beauty  is 
the  bliss  of  heaven  is  ever  drawing  and  preparing 
us  for  His  presence  by  all  the  mysteries  of  His 
Church.  What  is  our  Baptism  but  the  real  en- 
grafting of  our  whole  being,  in  body  and  soul, 
into  this  supernatural  order,  of  which  His  hea- 
venly court  is  the  ripe  and  perfect  fruit?  What 
are  all  they  who  are  gathered  round  Him  now, 
and  all  who  shall  be  gathered  round  Him  wlien 
the  whole  mystical  number  is  fulfilled,  but  poor 
sinners  fallen  and  dead,  born  again  by  His  free 
Spirit,  and  drawn  by  a  succession  of  graces,  each 
one  linked  within  the  other?  There  is  a  divine 
order  in  the  scheme  of  our  salvation,  *'  descending 
from  the  first  effect  unto  llir  l;ist  ;  tli;it  is,  from 
the  fruit,  which  is  glory,  to  the  root  of  tliis  fair 
tree,    which    is    the    redemption    of   the    Saviour. 


41-6  THE  VISIOX  OF  BEAUTY.  [Serm. 

For  the  Divine  goodness  bestows  glory  upon  me- 
rits, merits  upon  love,  love  upon  penitence,  peni- 
tence upon  obedience  to  vocation,  obedience  to 
vocation  upon  vocation,  and  vocation  upon  the 
redemption  of  the  Saviour  ;  on  which  rests  the 
whole  of  that  mystical  ladder  of  the  great  Jacob, 
as  well  in  heaven,  forasmuch  as  it  ends  in  the 
lovino^  bosom  of  the  everlastinac  Father,  in  which 
He  receives  and  glorifies  the  elect ;  as  also  upon 
earth,  forasmuch  as  it  is  planted  on  the  bosom 
and  in  the  pierced  side  of  the  Saviour,  who  died 
to  redeem  us  on  mount  Calvary."^  By  this  golden 
chain  He  draws  us  to  Himself;  working  in  us 
by  the  power  of  His  grace,  unfolding  the  inte- 
rior capacities  and  faculties  of  our  spiritual  life  ; 
in  some,  from  the  gift  of  regeneration,  onward 
through  childhood,  boyhood,  youth,  unto  the  ripe- 
ness of  perfect  life,  by  an  ever  advancing  growth  of 
purity  and  of  fellowship  with  His  veiled  presence ; 
in  others,  after  waywardness  and  rebellion,  by  sharp 
scour";es  and  barbed  shafts,  woundinsf  the  soul  with 
appalling  fears  and  pangs  of  conscious  guilt,  bowing 
them  to  the  yoke  of  repentance,  and  through  the 
grace  of  penance  perfecting  their  conversion.  By 
these  two  main  paths  of  grace,  but  with  infinite 
varieties   of  light   and   shadow.   He   leads   us  on, 

*  S.  Francois  de  Sales,  Traite  de  I'Amour  de  Dieu,  liv.  iii. 
c.  5. 


XXIII.]  THE  VISION   OF  BEAUTY.  447 

enlarging  our  inward  and  spiritual  sense  of  desire 
and  sight. 

But  He  not  only  works  within  us  ;  He  also 
proposes  to  our  spiritual  faculties  an  object  of 
faith  to  prepare  us  for  His  manifested  presence. 
He  that  is  enthroned  in  *'  the  land  that  is  very 
far  off"  is  the  same  that  said,  '*  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway."  He  is  with  us  in  the  midst  of  His 
heavenly  court.  Even  now  it  is  "  not  far  from 
any  one  of  us."  In  the  blessed  Sacrament  of  the 
altar  He  reveals  Himself  in  His  beauty  to  the 
sight  of  the  pure  in  heart.  He  is  there  sitting 
upon  His  exalted  throne,  and  His  train  fills  the 
temple.  There  is  the  Word  made  flesh,  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain,  angels  and  archangels,  and  all  the 
company  of  heaven.  What  is  not  there  where  He 
is,  in  Whom  are  all  things  ?  This  is  the  great 
reality  of  truth,  by  which  the  regenerate  live  with 
Him  in  God.  All  the  whole  life  of  Clirist's  true 
servants  upon  earth  is  the  melting  of  a  twilight  as 
it  brightens  into  day.  The  world  in  wliicli  they 
live,  indeed,  is  hidden,  veiled,  for  a  while,  with 
shadows,  sacraments,  and  symbols.  But  through 
all,  the  radiance  of  the  Eternal  Beauty  shines  upon 
them  ;  and  through  ;ill,  their  sight  pierces,  with  a 
spiritual  intuition,  even  to  tin;  land  .nid  kingdom 
of  peace.  But  on  earth  tlusre  is  no  approach  be- 
yond the   real   presence  of  the  Word   madr  flesli. 


448  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  [Serm. 

The  altar  is  His  throne,  already  seen.  After  this 
there  remains  nothing  but  "  the  King  in  His 
beauty"  seen  face  to  face. 

2.  And  lastly,  the  other  truth  for  our  con- 
solation is  this  :  that  by  a  special  and  particular 
discipline,  varied  and  measured  for  the  necessities 
of  every  faithful  soul,  He  is  making  us  ready  for 
the  vision  of  His  presence.  The  discipline  of 
His  Sacraments  and  mysteries  is  common  to  all 
members  of  His  body  :  but  the  discipline  of  His 
chastising  love  is  particular,  and  for  each.  By 
the  gifts  of  His  grace  we  are  prepared  for  His 
chastisements,  and  by  His  chastisements  we  are 
prepared  for  fuller  measures  of  His  grace.  If  we 
resist  His  Spirit,  or  grieve  Him  by  our  rebellions, 
or  hang  back  and  sullenly  refuse  His  leading,  He 
has  scourges  of  sharpness  and  of  love  to  chasten  us 
into  faith.  The  experience  of  every  one  who  has 
been  brought  under  this  loving  discipline  issues  in 
one  word  :  "  Before  I  was  afflicted,  I  went  astray."' 
"  One  thing  I  know,  that  whereas  I  was  blind,  now 
I  see."^  It  is  not  only  the  careless  and  lukewarm, 
but  the  wakened  and  devout,  who  feel  under  chas- 
tisement as  if,  for  the  first  time,  they  had  received 
their  sight.  The  whole  order  of  the  Church,  and 
all  its  sacraments  of  grace,  seem  to  unfold  them- 
selves into  a  new  revelation  of  truth  and  meaning. 

'  Ps.  cxix.  67.  ^  St.  John  ix.  25. 


XXIIIl  THE  VISION    OF  BEAUTY.  44<) 

Not  that  any  thing  without  us  is  altered,  but  be- 
cause we  are  changed  within.  Our  baptism,  on 
w^hicli  we  used  to  look  as  a  font  of  pure  water,  we 
perceive  to  be  "  the  river  of  the  water  of  life,"  the 
grave  of  Christ,  the  mystical  death,  "  the  begin- 
ning of  the  new  creation  of  God,"  the  power  of  a 
holy  resurrection.  The  Church  rises  before  us 
on  twelve  foundations,  builded  four-square,  the 
precincts  of  the  holy  city,  and  the  avenue  to  the 
paradise  of  God ;  its  order  is  linked  with  the 
hierarchies  of  heaven  ;  its  unity  ascends  into  the 
heavenly  court ;  its  altars  become  one  with  that 
which  stands  upon  Mount  Sion,  on  which  is  the 
very  Paschal  Lamb.  P^ven  when  seemingly  most 
deprived  of  all  outward  channels  of  grace,  thes(^ 
things  are  most  deeply  realised.  In  long  exile  from 
the  sanctuary  and  the  altar,  when  all  seems  most 
against  them,  then  is  His  time  of  grace.  Then  lie 
seems  to  reveal  Himself  with  a  directer  light,  and 
to  shew  that  He  is  Lord  also  of  the  Chunli  ;  lluil 
sacraments  were  ordained  for  man,  not  m;in  for 
sacraments.  He  thus  ministers  to  us  by  the  in- 
terior priesthood  of  His  mystical  15ody  ;  and  makes 
to  overflow,  by  spiritual  communion,  llic  vci\  souls 
who  have  in  time  past  (h;i\vn  liiil  scjintN  graces 
from  the  visible  sacrament  of"  His  love.  And  wlicrt' 
is  all  this  change  but  in  oiu'selves,  in  the  cltMnr 
vol,.  III.  G  (; 


450  THE  VISION   OF  BEAUTY.  [Serm. 

purging  of  our  inward  sight,  and  the  awakening 
of  keener  desires  for  the  vision  of  peace  ?  Such 
is  the  work  wrought  in  us  by  the  inward  discipline 
of  pain  and  trial,  of  sorrow  and  of  passion,  where- 
by He  makes  His  own  know  that  they  are  His. 
Blessed  tokens,  though  sharp  and  piercing ;  deep- 
cutting  prints  of  the  nails  of  the  Cross  ;  yet  mark- 
ing off  those  He  chooses  from  the  w^orld,  conse- 
crating them,  trembling  and  shrinking,  to  Himself. 
"  Blessed  are  ye  that  weep"  now,  whether  in  con- 
tradiction, or  bereavement;  or  sickness,  or  fear. 
Every  visitation  is  a  stage  of  advance  in  your  walk 
of  faith.  Every  chastisement  is  sent  to  open  a  new^ 
page  in  the  great  Book  of  Life — to  shew  you  things 
within  you  w^hich  you  knew  not,  and  things  which 
hereafter  shall  be  your  portion.  He  is  cleansing 
the  power  of  sight  in  you,  that  it  may  become  in- 
tense and  strong  to  bear  His  presence :  and  that 
power  of  sight  is  love  ;  fervent  and  purifying  love, 
consuming  every  sin,  and  purging  out  every  stain. 
The  more  fervently  you  cleave  to  Him  by  love,  the 
clearer  shall  be  your  vision  of  His  beauty.  Then 
welcome  all  He  sends,  if  so  be  we  may  see  Him  at 
last,  where  there  is  no  more  sin,  where  truth  has 
no  shadow,  where  unity  and  sanctity  have  no  dis- 
pute. Welcome  sorrow,  trial,  fear,  and  the  shadow 
of  death,  if  onlv  our  sin  be  blotted  out,  and  our 


XXIII. 1  THE  VISION  OF  BEAUTY.  kll 

lot  secure  in  the  lowest  room,  in  the  light  of  His 
face,  before  the  throne  of  His  beauty,  in  our  homo 
and  in  our  rest  for  ever. 


THE  END  OF  VOL.   111. 


•IIINTII)  nV  LBVKY,   llliniKlN,  AMII  FBANKI.VK, 
Orral  Nrw  Slrpcl,  Fcllor  Ijinc 


'  .li^j  uook  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 

fa ' '  '^  ^'^  

5M' 


:-.^yV 


^*«»W»«!i^^^^^^ 


001 


Vi^V 


iV'vy" 


'W^   1 


,^<^i«8»' 


P^mii^>*0^ 


vjv  ^v  -w*. 


^ms^^. 


S!»M»» 


k^jukiiC^''''^^^y 


M. 


Li 


%PS». 


M^^ 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONA'  UPR&RY  FAClun 

lliliiiliilliiiliiliiililiilii"''"*'^^^ 

AA    001  210  809    8 


^  ^  ^  C  -  r,  - 


->*N^Ni^>» 


—  w  ^  ^  *s/  "^    ,  ^ 


'^)^ 


y^y^^'w 


'vW^> 


'n)-  «««1lf 


*'^^<'ww->^ 


■'«i«»||»«WW. 


'Ww'-wv 


"»**%„€ 


r,i$ipsm