Skip to main content

Full text of "Sermons preached in St. James's Chapel, York Street, London"

See other formats 


Stom  f§e  feifirari?  of 

ipxofcBBox  TTiffiam  OXiffer  (]()a;rfon,  ©.©.,  E&.®. 

iptcBcnW^  6t  (Sirs.  ^a;irfon 

to  f 9e  feifirari?  of 

(princefon  ^^^eofogicaf  ^emtnatg 

BX  9843  .B79  1881 

Brooke,  Stopford  Augustus, 

1832-1916. 
Sermons  preached  in  St, 


>„^  J 


M 


SBEMONS 

FIRST    SERIES 


By  ilie  mme  Author. 

THE  LATE  REV.  F.  W.  ROBERTSON,  M.A.,  Life 
and  Letters  of. 

I.    Uniform  with  the  Sermons.     Two  vols.     With   Steel 
Portrait.    Price  7*.  6d. 

II.    Library  Edition.    8vo.     With  Portrait.     Price  125. 
III.    A  Popular  Edition,  in  1  vol.     8vo.     Price  &s. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.     A  New 

Volume  of  Sermons.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  Is.  6d. 

THE  FIGHT  OF  FAITH.  Sermons  preached  on 
various  occasions.  Fifth  Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
7.?.  6d. 

THEOLOGY  IN  THE  ENGLISH  POETS  — Cowper, 
CoLKRiDGE,  WoRDriWORTH,  and  BuRxs.  Fourch  and  Cheaper 
Edition.    Post  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5*. 

CHRIST  IN  MODERN  LIFE.  Fifteenth  and  Cheaper 
Edition.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  5j. 

SERMONS.  Second  Series.  Fifth  and  Cheaper 
Edition.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  55. 

London  :  KEG  AN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  &  Co.,  1  Paternoster  Square. 


SEEMONS 


PREACHED     IN    ST.    JAMES'S    CHAPEL 

YORK     STREET,     LONDON 
FIRST    SEBIES 


BY     THE 


Eev.  Stopford  a.  Brooke,  M.A. 


TWELFTH    EDITION 


LONDON 

KEGAN  PAUL,  TRENCH,  &  CO.,  1  PATERNOSTER  SQUARE 

1881 


The  rights  of  translation  and  of  reproduction  are  reserved) 


C  0  ^^  T  E  X  T  S . 


SERMON  I. 

THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH. 

PACE 

1  John  V.  4, 5. — '  For  whatsoever  is  bom  of  God  overcometh  tlio  world  : 
and  this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith. 
Who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but  he  that  beheveth  that  Jesus 
is  the  Son  of  God  ? ' 1 

SERMON  II. 

THE  DENIAL  OF  S.  PETER.  . 

Lulce  xxu.  61,  62. — '  And  the  Lord  turned,  and  looked  upon  Peter. 
And  Peter  remembered  the  word  of  the  Lord,  how  he  had  said  imto 
him,  Before  the  cock  crow,  thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice.  And  Peter 
went  out,  and  wept  bitterly/ 14 

SERMON  III. 

THE  lESSOXS  OF  THE  CHOLERA. 

Amos  iii.  6. — '  Shall  a  trumpet  be  blown  m  the  city,  and  the  people 
not  be  afraid  '?  Shall  there  be  evil  m  a  city,  and  the  Lord  hath 
not  done  it.^' 27 

SERMON  IV. 

THE  NATURALNESS  OF  GOB'S  JUDGMENTS. 

Lulce  xiii.  2-4.—'  And  Jesus  answering  said  imto  tliem,  Suppose  ye 
that  these  Galila3ans  were  sinners  above  all  the  Galilseans,  iDecause 
they  suffered  such  thmgs  ?  I  .tell  you,  Nav  :  but,  except  ye  repent, 
ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.  Or  those  eighteen,  upon  whom  the 
tower  in  Siloam  fell,  and  slew  them,  think  ye  that  they  were  sinners 
above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem?' 42 


vi  Contends. 


SERMON  V. 

THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM. 

PAGE 

Psalm  xxiii.  1-3. — '  The  Lord  is  ray  shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want.  He 
maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures  :  He  leadeth  me  beside  the 
still  waters.  He  restoreth  my  soul  :  he  leadeth  me  in  the  paths 
of  righteousness  for  his  name's  sake.' 56 

SERMON  VI. 

THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM. 

Psalm  xxiii.  4-6. — '  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil :  for  thou  ar-t  mth  me  ;  thy  rod 
and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me.  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me 
in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies  :  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil ; 
my  cup  runneth  over.  Sm-ely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow 
me  all  the  days  of  my  life  :  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  for  ever.' 71 

SERMON  VIL 

THE  VIRGIN'S  CHARACTER. 

Luke  i.  46-55. — '  And  Mary  said,  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  and 
my  sphit  hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour.  For  he  hath  regarded 
the  low  estate  of  his  handmaiden  :  for,  behold,  from  hencefoi-th  all 
generations  shall  call  me  blessed.  For  he  that  is  mighty  hath  done 
to  me  great  things  ;  and  holy  is  his  name.  And  his  mercy  is  on 
them  that  fear  him  from  generation  to  generation.  He  hath  shewed 
strength  with  his  arm ;  he  hath  scattered  the  proud  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  their  hearts.  He  hath  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  seats, 
and  exalted  them  of  low  degree.  He  hath  filled  the  himgry  with 
good  things ;  and  the  rich  he  hath  sent  empty  away.  He  hath  holpen 
his  servant  Israel,  in  remembrance  of  Ids  mercy ;  as  he  spake  to 
our  fathers,  to  Abraham,  and  to  his  seed  for  ever.'  .        .        .        .83 

SERMON  YIIL 

THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST  THROUGH  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  HOME. 

Luke  ii.  51. — 'And  he  went  down  with  them,  and  came  to  Nazareth, 
and  was  subject  unto  them  :  but  his  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in 
her  heart.' 95 


Contents.  vii 


SERMON  IX. 

THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST  THROUGH  THE  INFLUENCES  OF  OUTWARD 
NATURE. 

PAGE 

Luke  ii.  40. — *  iVnd  the  child  grew,  and  waxed  strong  in  spirit,  filled 
with  wisdom  :  and  the  grace  of  God  was  upon  him.'        .        .        .  108 

SERMON  X. 

THE  INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST. 

Luke  ii.  52. — '  And  Jesus  increased  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in 
favour  with  God  and  man. ' 121 

SERMON  XL 

THE  SPIRITUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST. 

Luke  ii.  49.—'  And  he  said  unto  them,  How  is  it  that  ye  sought  me  ? 
Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business  V     .        .  13G 

SERMON  XII. 

JOHN  THE  BAPTIST,  THE  INTERPRETER. 

Matt.  iii.  1. — '  In  those  days  came  John  the  Baptist,  preaching  in  the 
wilderness  of  Judasa.' 148 

SERMON  XIII. 

DEVOTION  TO  THE  CONVENTIONAL. 

Acts  vii.  51-53. — 'Ye  stiffhecked  and  uncircumcised  in  heart  and 
ears,  ye  do  always  resist  the  Holy  Ghost :  as  your  fathers  did,  so 
do  ye.  Which  of  the  prophets  have  not  your  fathers  persecuted  ? 
and  they  have  slain  them  which  shewed  before  of  the  coming  of  the 
Just  One  ;  of  whom  ye  have  been  now  the  betrayers  and  mm'derers  : 
Who  have  received  the  law  by  the  disposition  of  angels,  and  have 
not  kept  it.' 164 

SERMON  XIV. 

DEVOTION  TO  THE  OUTWARD. 

John  xviii.  3G. — 'Jesus  answered,  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world  : 
if  my  kingdom  were  of  this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight, 
that  I  should  not  be  deUvered  to  the  Jews  :  but  now  is  my  kingdom 
not  from  hence.' ISO 


yiii  Contents. 

SERMON  XV. 

THE  RELIGION  OF  SIGNS. 

PACK 

Luke  xi.  29.—'  And  when  the  people  were  gcathered  thick  together,  he 
began  to  say,  This  is  an  evil  generation  :  they  seek  a  sign  ;  and  there 
shall  no  sign  be  given  it,  but  the  sign  of  Jonas  the  prophet.'  .        .192 

SERMON  XVI. 

INDIVIDUALITY. 

Luke  ix.  24. — '  For  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it :  but  who- 
soever wUl  lose  his  life  for  my  sake,  the  same  shall  save  it.'    .        .  207 

•     SERMON  XVII. 

THE  CREATION. 

Genesis  i.  1.—'  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth.'  222 
SERMON  XVIII. 

THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 

Matt.  iii.  13.—'  Then  cometh  Jesus  from  Galilee  to  Jordan  unto  John, 
to  be  baptized  of  him.' 236 

,  SERMON  XIX. 

'  THE  FORTY  DAYS  IN  THE  ]VILDERNESS. 

Matt.  iv.  1.—'  Then  was  Jesus  led  up  of  the  spirit  into  the  wilderness 
to  be  tempted  of  the  devil.' 251 

SERMON  XX. 

THE  TRANSFIGURATION. 

Luke  ix.  28-33.—'  And  it  came  to  pass  about  an  eight  days  after  these 
sayings,  he  took  Peter  and  John  and  James,  and  went  up  into  a 
mountain  to  pray.  And  as  he  prayed,  the  fashion  of  his  counten- 
ance was  altered,  and  his  raiment  ivas  white  and  ghsteuing.  And, 
behold,  there  talked  with  him  two  men,  which  were  IMoses  and 
Elias  :  Who  appeared  in  glory,  and  spake  of  his  decease  which  he 


Conte7its.  ix 


should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem.  But  Peter  and  they  that  were 
■with  him  were  heavy  with  sleep  :  and  when  they  were  awake,  they 
saw  his  glory,  and  the  two  men  that  stood  with  him.  And  it  came 
to  pass,  as  they  departed  from  him,  Peter  said  unto  Jesus,  Master, 
it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here  :  and  let  us  make  three  tabernacles  ;  one 
for  thee,  and  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elias :  not  knowing  what 
he  said.' 262 

SERMOX  XXI. 

THE  ASCENSION. 

John  vi.  62. — '  What  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  man  ascend  up 
where  he  was  before  V 27 -i 

SERMON  XXII. 

THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ALL  SAINTS. 

Eevelation  vii.  9. — '  After  this  I  beheld,  and,  lo,  a  great  multitude, 
which  no  man  could  number,  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.'       .        .        .  290 

SERMON  XXIII. 

ANGELIC  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 

Hehrews  i.  7- — *  And  of  the  angels  he  saith.  Who  maketh  his  angels 
spirits,  and  his  ministers  a  flame  of  fire.' 304 

SERMON  XXIV. 

ANGELIC  LIFE  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  MAN. 

Hebrews  i.  14. — '  Are  they  not  all  ministering  spmts,  sent  forth  to 
minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heu-s  of  salvation  ?'  .        .        .  318 

SERMON  XXV. 

ISAAC'S  CHARACTER. 

Genesis  xxxv.  27-29. — '  And  Jacob  came  unto  Isaac  his  father  imto 
Mamre,  unto  the  city  of  Arbah,  which  is  Hebron,  where  Abraham 
and  Isaac  sojoui-ned.  And  the  days  of  Isaac  were  an  hundi-ed  and 
fourscore  years.  And  Isaac  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  died,  and  was 
gathered  unto  his  people,  being  old  and  full  of  days  :  and  his  sons 
Esau  and  Jacob  bmied  him.' 333 


SERMONS. 

THE    VICTORY    OF    FAITH. 

1  Jolui  V.  4,  5. 

It  would  be  very  interesting  if  we  could  have  an  liour's 
conversation  with  an  intelligent  Pharisee  or  Sadducee 
of  tlie  time  of  our  Lord,  and  find  out  the  way  in  which 
this  religious  revival  among  the  poorer  Jews  appeared 
to  their  judgment.  There  must  have  been  sarcastic 
Sadducees  who  had  a  kind  of  compassionate  admiration 
mingled  with  their  scorn,  for  the  enthusiasm  of  the  fisher- 
folk,  and  who,  men  of  the  world,  and  alive  to  all  the 
movements  of  humanity,  looked  at  '  the  sect  of  Jesus ' 
with  a  slight  touch  of  intellectual  interest,  as  a  curious 
psychological  phenomenon. 

There  must  have  been  some  keen  political  doctors 
among  the  Pharisees,  zealous,  but  not  too  zealous,  such  as 
we  may  infer  Gamaliel  was,  who  were  interested  in  all 
religious  movements,  and  examined  them  with  tolerance 
and  historical  curiosity. 

We  may  imagine,  without  any  improbability,  that  the 
judgment  of  both  these  men  would  be  pretty  much 
the  same,   though  arrived  at  by  different  paths.     '  This 


1  The  Victory  of  Faith. 

will  not  last/  they  would  say ;  '  enthusiasm  so  im-  . 
prudent  will  burn  itself  away  in  contact  with  the  general 
indifference,  or,  if  it  go  further,  will  be  burnt  up  by  a 
vigorous  opposition.  This  man  Jesus,  if  he  persists 
in  his  denunciations  of  our  parties  (and  many  of  them 
are  on  the  whole  deserved),  will  become  a  trouble  to  us, 
and  an  object  of  hatred  to  our  fanatics.  We  shall  get 
rid  of  him,  and  when  the  head  of  the  movement  is  gone, 
it  will  fall  to  pieces.  It  is  unfortunate  that  his  death 
is  inevitable,  for  he  is  a  good  man ;  but  what  are  you  to 
do  with  an  enthusiast,  who  is  so  pitifully  ignorant  of  the 
world  ?  ' 

So  Gamaliel  may  have  spoken,  and  then,  after  the 
Crucifixion,  congratulated  himself  on  his  knowledge  of 
the  world. 

For  nearly  two  months  not  a  single  event  would 
disturb  his  intellectual  self-confidence.  Probably  he 
would  hear  some  rumour  of  the  Resurrection,  at  which 
he  would  smile  with  scorn  ;  he  would  hear  at  least,  as  a 
fact,  that  the  disheartened  followers  of  the  Crucified  had 
gone  back  to  their  usual  work  in  Galilee,  and  that  all 
had  eiided  quietly.  When  suddenly  the  whole  matter 
took  a  new  form.  Gamaliel  heard  that  these  fishermen 
and  their  followers,  about  a  hundred  in  all,  had  actually 
come  forward  in  Jerusalem,  more  enthusiastic  than  ever, 
proclaiming  that  the  man  Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  that 
He  had  risen  from  the  dead,  that  He  was  now  ascended 
into  heaven,  and  called  by  their  voice  on  all  men  to  be- 
lieve in  Him  as  Lord  and  Christ ;  that  three  thousand 
had  been  carried  away  by  the  first  sermon,  that  numbers 
were  joining  the  party  every  day,  and  that  an  absolute 


The  Victory  of  Faith.  3 

wonder  liad  been  worked, — the  lame  man,  whom  he  knew 
well,  into  whose  hand  at  the  Beautiful  gate  he  had  so 
often  dropt  an  alms,  had  suddenly  been  cured  in  the  name 
of  Jesus. 

*  This  is  a  curious  phenomenon,'  he  would  say,  '  and 
worth  my  study.  It  does  not  follow  the  usual  course 
of  religious  revivals ;  its  novelty  is  interesting.  But 
there  is  nothing  to  give  it  endurance  if  the  blind  zeal 
of  our  religious  bigots  does  not  add  strength  to  the 
movement.  It  may  be  pushed  by  persecution  into  im- 
portance, I  shall  go  to  the  Sanhedrim  and  modify  their 
folly.' 

So,  calling  his  pupil  Saul,  in  whom  he  had  much  con- 
fidence, Gamaliel  went  to  the  council,  and  heard  with 
great  gravity  the  examination  of  Peter  and  John.  When 
it  was  over  and  the  council  were  alone,  he  made  a  politic 
speech,  excellent  for  its  end,  and  interesting  to  us  for  the 
vein  of  concealed  irony  against  his  fellow-counsellors,  and 
the  intellectual  scorn  for  the  Apostles,  with  which  it  was 
pervaded. 

*  Ye  men  of  Israel,'  he  said,  *  take  heed  to  yourselves 
what  ye  intend  to  do  as  touching  these  men.  For 
before  these  days  rose  up  Theudas,  boasting  himself  to 
be  somebody ;  to  whom  a  number  of  men,  about  four 
hundred,  joined  themselves;  wlio  was  slain;  and  all, 
as  many  as  obeyed  him,  were  scattered,  and  brought  to 
nought.  After  this  man  rose  up  Judas  of  Galilee  in 
the  days  of  the  taxing,  and  drew  away  much  people 
after  him  :  he  also  perished;  and  all,  even  as  man}^  as 
obeyed  him,  were  dispersed.  And  now  I  say  unto  you, 
Refrain  from  these  men,  and  Itt  them  alone :  for  if  this 

B  2 


4  The  Victory  of  Faith. 

counsel  or  this  work  be  of  men,  it  will  come  to  nought : 
but  if  it  be  of  God,  ye  cannot  overthrow  it ;  lest  haply  ye 
be  found  even  to  fight  against  God.' 

Nothing  could  be  happier  than  this  speech,  and 
Gamaliel  left  the  Sanhedrim  content  with  himself. 
Walking  home  with  Saul,  he  may  have  recapitulated 
it  to  his  pupil.  *  There  have  been,'  he  would  say,  *  two 
revivals  already  in  these  times  of  excitement,  and  they 
have  both  broken  down.  I  see  no  reason,  but  the  con- 
trary, why  this  should  last  longer  than  the  rest.  I 
grant  that  it  is  distinct  from  the  others  in  origin  and 
manner.  It  is  not  political,  nor  does  it  appeal  to  popular 
sympathies,  but  that  only  makes  it  more  sure  of  failure. 
The  only  man  of  real  power  in  it  is  dead ;  this  resurrec- 
tion is  too  absurd  even  to  speak  of;  the  principles  on 
which  the  movement  is  founded,  such  as  I  heard  to-day 
from  those  enthusiasts,  who  spoke  surprisingly  well, 
will  bring  them  into  opposition  with  the  whole  world. 
They  oppose  both  our  parties.  The  Sadducees  will  re- 
sent the  notion  of  a  new  religion,  and  will  employ  the 
weapon  of  contemptuous  scorn  against  their  assertion 
of  a  resurrection.  The  fanaticism  of  our  Pharisees,  from 
which  I  have  not  been  able,  Saul,  even  to  set  you  free, 
will  persecute  them  from  city  to  city,  hating  especially 
that  success  with  the  common  people,  which  is  so  anta- 
gonistic to  the  priestly  power  for  which  I  do  not  care. 
Moreover,  if  these  men  be  allowed  to  go  on,  we  shall  all 
be  proved  to  be  wrong  in  permitting  the  death  of  Jesus ; 
indeed  they  stated  as  much  to-day.  At  present  the 
Roman  world  does  not  heed  them;  but  if  they  should 
persist  in  warring  against  us,  they  will  stir  up  the  Jewish 


The  Victory  of  Faith.  5 

mob  against  them,  riots  will  take  place,  and  Rome  will 
punish  them  as  disturbers  of  public  order ;  and  once 
Rome  begins,  she  will  make  an  end  of  them — the  iron 
nation  is  not  scrupulous/ 

So  might  GamaKel  at  that  time  have  spoken,  and 
there  are  hundreds  of  political  men  among  us  who 
would  have  said,  in  his  place,  exactly  the  same  things. 
But  that  which  must  have  entirely,  in  his  eyes,  de- 
stroyed the  possibility  of  the  success  of  the  Christian 
movement  was  the  determined  attack  which,  led  by  his 
own  pupil,  it  began  some  years  after  to  make  upon  the 
whole  fabric  of  paganism  in  the  country  and  of  paganism 
and  infidelity  in  the  towns  of  the  empire.  *  These  few 
wanderers  are  contending  right  in  the  teeth  of  the 
genius  of  the  age,  right  in  the  teeth  of  the  spirit  of  the 
whole  world.  They  intend  to  prove  that  Greek,  Jew, 
Roman,  Asiatic,  Alexandrian,  are  all  wrong.  They  aver 
— and  this  is  most  ridiculous — that  their  religion  will 
suit  all  these  diverse  nations.  Do  they  imagine  that 
they  can  revolutionize  the  whole  of  society,  of  thought,  of 
feeling,  the  habits,  manners,  and  customs  of  centuries  ? 
It  is  exquisite  absurdity.' 

Absurd  as  it  seemed,  it  was  the  very  thing  they 
set  themselves  to  do,  not  only  without  a  shadow  of 
despair,  but  with  a  triumphant  security  of  victory. 
Nor  was  it  with  any  blindness  of  enthusiasm  that 
they  began.  They  were  not  like  men  who  rush  with 
audacity  upon  a  danger  because  they  are  ignorant 
of  it.  They  had  counted  the  cost,  and  they  went  for- 
ward fully  aware  of  their  work.  Their  Master  had  im- 
pressed   upon    their    mind    that    they  would    be    most 


6  The  Victory  of  Faith. 

Tictorious  (and  it  was  an  original  declaration),  when 
they  were  apparently  most  defeated.  They  quietly 
accepted  this  position,  and  with  unexampled  hardi- 
hood presented  a  front  of  a  few  unlearned  men  and 
weak  women  to  the  onslaught  of  the  world.  Not  an 
eyelid  wavered,  not  a  heart  sank,  as  they  went  to  battle, 
knowingly  to  die,  but  in  death,  they  knew,  to  conquer. 
Listen  to  S.  John  :  '  Whatsoever  is  born  of  God,  over- 
cometh  the  world/  And  the  strange  thing  is  that, 
born  of  God,  they  did  overcome  the  world;  the  whole 
body  of  the  old  society  of  Judaism  and  of  Heathen- 
ism actually  crumbled  to  pieces  before  these  few  resolute 
men. 

What  was  the  spell  which  wrought  this  wonder  ?  Was 
it  force?  They  might  have  had  it,  like  Theudas  and 
Judas,  but  they  would  not  use  it.  They  remembered 
their  Master's  temptation  in  the  wilderness.  Their  force 
lay  in  submission. 

Was  it  cunning  diplomacy  ?  Fraud  ?  It  is  impossible 
to  impute  these  to  the  character  of  any  of  the  Apostles. 
Imagine  S.  Peter  playing  the  diplomatist  or  S.  Paul  the 
part  of  By-ends  !  They  were,  on  the  contrary,  extremely 
imprudent. 

Was  it  intellectual  acumen  by  which  they  did  their 
work?  They  did  not  possess  it,  and,  by  itself,  they 
depreciated  it.  It  was  by  a  greater  power  than  any  of 
these — by  the  power  of  faith.  '  This  is  the  victory  that 
overcome th  the  world,  even  our  faith.' 

Faith,  in  S.  John's  idea,  is  the  conquering  principle. 
And  this  not  only  in  religion,  but  in  common  life.  For 
Christian   faith   is   not  a  thing   apart  from  our  nature, 


The  Victory  of  Faith. 


and  imposed  upon  it  from  without ;  it  is  the  expansion 
of  an  original  quality ;  it  is  the  spiritualization  of  a 
natural  quality ;  it  is  the  daily  faith  by  which  we  live 
brought  into  contact  with  the  highest  possible  subject 
and  in  the  contact  with  the  Divine  made  divine.  So 
glorified,  it  overcomes  the  world.  But  even  unglorified, 
it  has  this  overcoming  power.  No  one  conquers  with- 
out it. 

That  is  not  true,  perhaps  you  say.  It  is  not  faith, 
but  prudence  and  skill  and  wealth  which  are  victorious. 
In  war,  for  instance,  '  Heaven  is  on  the  side  of  the  best 
artillery.'  I  rej)ly,  first,  that  prudence  is  a  form  of  faith  ; 
secondly,  that  I  have  not  said  that  in  such  a  matter  as 
war  faith  alone  conquers ;  but  that  faith  is  necessarj^  for 
conquest.  Take  away  belief  in  their  cause,  or  belief  in 
their  general,  from  the  soldiers,  and  all  the  skill  and 
money  and  artillery  are  useless.  The  men  will  fight 
languidly,  or  run  awa3^ 

Moreover,  a  better  appointed  army,  better  munitions  of 
war,  are  in  themselves  a  proof  of  a  higher  foregoing  faith 
of  the  nation,  in  itself,  in  its  genius,  and  in  the  end  to  be 
attained. 

IS^or  is  it  always  numbers  and  the  best  artillery  which 
conquer.  Frederick  the  Great,  with  a  few  intervals, 
believed  in  his  success,  and  his  soldiers  believed  in  him, 
and  he  maintained  himself  by  this  faith,  almost  alone 
against  Europe. 

On  the  whole,  the  victory  falls  in  the  end  to  those  who 
have  the  largest  amount  of  faith.  In  the  end,  I  say,  for 
'*.  e  must  not  expect  faith  always  to  win  at  once.  It  acts 
on   the   spirits   of    men — a    slow   process — and   produces 


8  The  Victory  of  Faith. 

chiefly  that  perseverance  which  refuses  to  own  itself 
beaten.  It  may  be  overcome  again  and  again,  but  it 
finally  exhausts  the  force  which  has  nothing  spiritual  to 
back  it.  Ital}^  had  faith  in  its  liberation  and  unity,  but  it 
was  crushed  in  1848.  Of  what  use  was  its  faith  ?  But 
look  forward  twenty  years,  and  see  what  faith  has  done, 
and  we  have  our  answer. 

In  one  way  or  another,  all  the  greatest  things  are  done 
by  it ;  but  whether  it  be  lastingly  victorious  or  not, 
depends  upon  the  quality  of  the  faith,  whether  it  be 
in  opposition  to  the  spirit  of  the  world,  or  on  the  side 
of  the  world.  If  it  be  the  latter.  Faith  will  probably 
win  its  victory  quickly ;  if  the  former,  slowly.  But  the 
victory  of  the  latter  will  be  short-lived,  of  the  former 
eternal. 

The  faith  which  carried  Mahometan  ism  over  a  fourth 
part  of  the  globe  was  a  faith  which  linked  itself  to  the 
powers  of  the  world — force  and  fraud.  The  faith  which 
was  victorious  in  Christianity  abjured,  in  idea  at  least, 
the  powers  of  the  world,  and  on  the  whole  continues  to 
abjure  them,  and  the  result  is  that,  though  not  so  rapidly 
successful  as  Mahometanism,  it  is  growing  stronger  as 
Mahometanism  grows  weaker. 

For  faith  is  a  noble  and  spiritual  quality,  and  when  it 
is  bound  to  ignoble  and  worldly  things,  it  suffers  as  the 
living  body  tied  to  the  dead  by  the  tyrant ;  it  corrupts  and 
dies.  Then  it  is  that  the  powers  of  the  world  to  which 
faith  gave  for  a  time  a  semblance  of  life  betray  at  once, 
when  it  is  dead,  their  own  innate  death. 

But  the  most  victorious  faith  is  that  which  has  to  do, 
not  with  ideas,  but  with  a  person,  for  then  the  deepest 


The  Victory  of  Faith.  9 

heart-passion  comes  in  to  give  a  living  soul  to  faith.  S. 
Paul  saw  this  truth  when  he  spoke  of  faith  which  worketh 
by  love. 

But,  as  above,  so  in  this  case  also,  the  lastingness 
of  the  victory  of  faith  depends  on  the  nobility  of  the 
person  believed  in.  Xothing  shatters  life  so  completely, 
nothing  so  makes  a  desert  of  the  world,  as  the  disco- 
very of  the  meanness  or  impurity  of  those  in  whom  we 
have  believed.  ]N^othing  makes  life  so  victorious  as 
finding  that  the  object  of  our  faith  continues  great  and 
good. 

Christianity  meets  both  these  needs  of  our  nature.  It 
does  not  say.  Believe  in  ideas,  but  believe  in  Christ,  and 
it  manifests  Christ  as  the  unalterable  goodness.  "Who 
is  he  that  overcometh  ?  Even  he  that  believeth  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ. 

To  believe  in  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  what  does  it  mean  ? 
It  means  to  believe  in  perfect  humanity,  in  God  in 
man. 

Most  of  us  believe  in  exactly  the  contrary.  "We  be- 
lieve in  roguery,  in  suspicion,  in  selfishness,  in  every 
man  having  his  price,  in  the  vanity,  folly,  and  sinful- 
ness of  humanity.  Half  our  actions — God  forbid  I 
should  say  the  whole  ! — are  built  upon  this  miserable 
faith;  and  it  is  nothing  more,  in  spite  of  its  orthodoxy, 
than  a  hearty  belief  in  the  devil  in  man. 

Xow  one  part  of  faith  in  Christ  is  to  deny  all  that ; 
is  to  believe  that  the  true  humanity  is  not  that,  but 
something  quite  different — the  humanity,  namely,  which 
was  lived  out  lono^  ao^o  in  Palestine. 

Such  a  faith  will  overcome  the  world  and  the  worldly 


lo  The  Victory  of  Faith. 

sjiirit.  Believe  in  the  devil  in  man,  and  we  are  slaves  of 
the  world,  forced  to  use  its  powers  and  its  means  to  live, 
forced  to  meet  selfishness  by  selfishness,  suspicion  by  sus- 
picion, lying  by  lying.  Every  day  we  degrade  and  are 
degraded. 

Believe  in  Christ,  in  God  in  man,  and  we  rise  above 
the  world  and  the  use  of  the  world.  We  meet  selfishness 
by  love,  suspicion  by  confidence,  lying  by  truth.  We 
grow  better,  and  we  make  men  better.  We  have  a  hope 
for  the  race,  by  which  we  live  ourselves  and  in  which  we 
can  live  for  others.  Our  eyes  are  opened  to  see  the  good- 
ness in  men.  The  drunken  sailors  of  Columbus  saw  no- 
thing in  the  carved  wood,  and  the  strange  bird,  and  the 
floating  seaweed,  for  the  tyranny  of  the  present,  fear  and 
suspicion,  were  upon  them  ;  but  the  calm  figure  watching 
on  the  prow  saw  in  them — America. 

And  he  who  is  drunk  with  the  present,  who  believes 
only  in  the  world  in  the  heart  of  man,  sees  nothing  in  the 
waifs  and  strays  of  nobility,  self-sacrifice,  and  endurance 
which  are  cast  up  before  him  in  the  lives  of  even  the 
worst  of  the  race.  They  are  not  prophetic  to  him.  But 
to  us  who  know  and  believe  in  the  sinless  humanity  which 
has  been,  they  speak  of  the  final  perfection  of  the  race,  of 
that  new  world  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  We 
have  in  our  faith  *  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen.' 

Again,  to  believe  in  Christ  is  not  to  believe  in  ideals, 
but  in  ideals  realized  in  a  human  life.  The  great  phi- 
losophers of  the  ancient  world  believed  in  love,  truth, 
justice,  and  purity.  They  aspired  to  reach  them  and 
retain  them,   but  they  swept  away  from  their  embrace 


The  Victory  of  Faith,  ii 

like  phantom  forms  of  cloud  before  a  rushing  wind.  For 
beautiful  as  their  ideal  was,  it  had  no  heart,  no  life,  no 
human  reality.  No  human  love  could  be  given  to  it.  It 
was  not  bound  up  with  social  or  domestic  life.  Faith  in 
it  produced  little,  for  it  was  not  a  faith  which  worked 
by  human  love.  Hence  the  life  of  the  noblest  heathen 
was  a  desperate  effort  to  realize  the  mighty  dreams  and 
longings  of  the  heart.  It  was  not  altogether  in  vain. 
God  must  have  satisfied  in  another  world  that  lofty 
passion  of  desire.  I  have  often  fancied  with  delight 
the  rapture  of  Socrates,  Plato,  Zeno,  when  the  truth  and 
the  light  they  had  been  toiling  all  their  lives  to  find 
burst  upon  them  in  the  revelation  of  the  Word  made 
flesh ;  but  here,  on  earth,  there  ever  came  after  their 
brightest  vision  an  encroaching  shadow  of  doubt  in 
which  aspiration  sank  down,  trembling  with  cold  and 
palsy-stricken.  They  had  nothing  absolutely  perfect  in 
human  nature  on  which  to  build  their  faith,  no  ground 
for  assurance  of  human  attainment  in  a  human  life 
which  had  attained  and  triumphed.  But  \ce  have,  and 
it  is  shame  and  sorrow  if  we  do  not  walk  worthy  of  our 
knowledge. 

God  has  recognized  that  it  was  necessary  for  the 
victoriousness  of  faith  that  the  ideals  of  human  nature 
should  be  embodied  in  a  perfect  personality,  capable  of 
being  profoundly  loved ;  so  He  gave  us  the  revelation 
of  a  human  God,  faith  in  whom  is  rooted  and  grounded 
in  love.  The  difference  between  our  feeling  in  reading 
the  vague  ideality  of  Shelley's  aspirations,  and  in 
reading  the  practical  realization  of  love  in  the  Gospel 
story,  represents  almost  exactly  the  difference   between 


1 2  The  Vidoiy  of  Faith. 

the  faitli  of  the  Greek,  who  wanted  a  Divine  Person 
to  love,  and  the  faith  of  the  Christian,  for  whom  that 
want  has  been  satisfied. 

Lastly.  Faith  in  Christ  overcomes  not  only  the  world 
without,  but  the  spirit  of  the  world  within  our  hearts. 

He  who  believes  in  perfect  love,  and  loves  it  in  the 
Saviour,  cannot  live  the  life  of  selfishness.  He  is  borne 
spontaneously  above  it.  He  who  lives  in  adoration  of 
an  invisible  character  cannot  live  in  and  for  the  sensual 
and  the  visible  alone.  The  love  of  money  and  its  curse 
of  gnawing  restlessness ;  the  love  of  frivolity  and  its 
curse,  a  vain  and  petty  soul ;  the  love  of  excitement  and 
its  curse,  exhausted  energies  and  drear  satiety ;  religious 
moroseness  and  its  curse,  a  lonely  and  hateful  life ;  devo- 
tion to  the  transient  and  its  curse,  the  grave  ;  over  all 
these  the  believer  in  Christ  must,  he  cannot  help  it,  soar 
triumphant. 

For  the  world  overcomes  us,  or  we  the  world.  Here  is 
death  come  to  claim  you,  and  your  wealth  and  position, 
your  work  and  your  enjoyments,  all  this  passing  business, 
to  which  you  gave  your  whole  heart,  refuse  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  your  dead  body,  and  naturally  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  soul.  They  come  to  your 
bedside  to  look  their  last  look  upon  you.  They  say 
farewell  and  go,  and  you  are  left  alone.  In  that  hour 
your  soul  is  speechless.  In  has  never  learnt  anything. 
The  world  has  overcome  you. 

But  let  death  come  and  find  j^ou  believing  in  Christ. 
It  is  plain  that  for  the  loss  of  all  these  things  you  do  not 
specially  care,  for  j^ou  have  lived  above  them.  You 
have  used  them  as  servants  to  advance  a  greater  work. 


The  Victory  of  Faith.  ij 

as  means  to  realize  more  fully  a  glorious  world.  There 
is  no  longer  any  need  of  them,  for  now  you  enter  into 
the  perfect  work  and  the  perfect  world.  They  come  to 
your  bedside  to  say  farewell.  You  dismiss  them  with 
the  smile  of  a  master,  and  are  grateful  that  you  have 
enjoyed  so  much.  They  go  to  serve  another,  but  you 
are  not  alone.  You  have  overcome  the  world,  and 
another  world  is  yours.  You  are  not  leaving  home^ 
you  are  going  home.  You  are  not  leaving  all  the  charm 
and  movement  of  society,  you  are  going  to  live  in  a 
more  varied  and  active  society  than  any  upon  earth. 
You  are  not  abandoning  the  masculine  pleasure  of  work 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  production,  you  are  entering  into 
a  wider  sphere  of  work  with  full-grown  and  creative 
energies.  It  is  not  death  but  life  which  is  becoming 
yours ;  not  failure,  but  victory  which  sounds  its  music 
in  your  dying  ear;  the  fulness  of  life,  which  is  love, 
the  fulness  of  victory,  which  is  the  sinless  perfection  at- 
tained in  immediate  spiritual  union  with  Him  through 
faith  in  whom  on  earth  you  overcame  the  world. 


1 4  The  Deiiial  of  S.  Peter, 


THE  DENIAL  OF  S.  PETER. 
S.  Luke  xxii.  61,  62. 

There  are  few  histories  so  toucliing  and  so  teacliing  as 
the  history  the  most  striking  act  of  which  is  narrated  in 
the  words  which  I  have  read.  It  has  a  likeness  to  an 
ancient  epic,  in  which  the  purification  of  the  hero  is  the 
goal  to  which  the  poem  is  ever  tending. 

The  story  of  S.  Peter's  purification  passes  through  four 
distinct  phases.  The  first  belongs  to  the  night  of  the  last 
supper.  When,  on  His  last  evening  with  the  disciples, 
Judas,  the  traitor,  had  left  the  room,  the  inner  sadness 
of  the  soul  of  Christ  came  suddenly  to  the  surface.  He 
spoke  of  His  coming  departure  from  them.  He  told 
them,  deeply  moved  as  they  were  by  His  solemnity  and 
sorrow,  that  they  should  follow  Him  afterwards,  but  not 
now.  It  was  a  moment  when  quiet  listening  would 
have  been  best ;  but  Peter's  impetuous  and  forward 
spirit  could  not  be  still.  He  broke  in  upon  the  mono- 
logue of  Christ  with  eager  words :  '  Lord,  why  cannot 
I  follow  Thee  now  ?     I  will  lay  down  my  life  for  Thy 


It  had  been  better  had  he  been  silent.  The  hour  was 
coming  when  he  would  want  all  his  force,  and  he  was 
now  expending   it   in  a   boast.     He  had  not  faced   the 


The  Denial  of  S.  Peter.  i  j 

meaning  of  his  words.  True,  they  were  wrung  from 
him  by  impetuous  affection  ;  but  what  is  that  affection 
worth  which  rises  and  fcills  in  obedience  to  the  tempera- 
ture of  circumstances  ?  It  is  not  much  more  than  a 
sentimentalism  ;  the  words  it  utters  are  a  boast,  and  a 
boast  is  not  only  a  proof  of  weakness  of  character,  but 
in  its  expression  weakens  still  more  the  character.  We 
cannot  talk  loudly  of  feeling  without  exhausting  the 
latent  strength  of  feeling.  No  man  who  loves  deej)ly 
can  'heave  his  heart  into  his  mouth.'  His  love  is  like 
Cordelia's,  '  more  richer  than  his  tongue.'  Nor  can  any 
man  boast  of  his  future  deeds  without  endangering  his 
success  when  the  trial  comes.  *  That  a  man  icell  intends, 
he'll  do  it  before  he  speaks.'  The  boaster  has  fought  a 
battle  against  an  imaginary  foe,  and  won  it,  but  when 
the  real  foe  arrives  he  is  surprised  at  the  opposition  he 
encounters.  It  was  easy  work  in  fancy,  it  is  terrible 
work  in  reality.  The  very  knowledge  that  he  has  boasted 
confuses  him,  he  is  troubled,  strikes  blindly  and  flies. 
So  it  was  with  S,  Peter.  Christ  saw  the  lurkinsr  in- 
stability,  and  the  Apostle  heard  amazed  the  stern  rebuke 
and  the  prediction :  *  Wilt  thou  lay  down  thy  life  for 
my  sake  ?  Before  the  cock  crow,  thou  shalt  deny  me 
thrice.' 

The  second  phase  the  story  passes  through  is  in  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane. 

No  doiibt  S.  Peter  felt  with  indignation  the  reproof 
of  Christ,  but  he  did  not  believe  its  bearing.  '  Though 
I  die  with  thee,  I  will  not  deny  thee.'  He  seized  his 
sword,  and  went  out  into  the  garden,  resolved  to  prove 
how  much  he  had  been  misjudged.     All  the  way  there 


1 6  The  Denial  of  S.  Peter, 

lie  fought  in  his  fancy  for  Christ,  and  delivered  Him  from 
His  foes.     His  enthusiasm  rose  to  fever  heat. 

Then  came  a  pause,  during  which  no  circumstance 
occurred  to  keep  up  his  excitement.  It  was  night,  and 
the  cold  chilled  the  heat  of  his  blood.  It  was  silent 
among  the  olive  shades,  and  there  seemed  no  need  for  all 
his  eagerness.  No  enemy  appeared.  He  was  asked  to 
watch,  and  not  to  fight,  and  being  weary,  partly  through 
sorrow,  partly  through  excitement,  he  betrayed  his 
post,  and  slept,  when  waking  had  done  more  than  smit- 
ing. 

At  last  the  laggard  was  roused  by  Christ  Himself. 
^  He  that  betrayeth  me  is  at  hand.'  A  glare  of  torches, 
swords  flashing,  a  mob  of  men,  and  Peter's  trial  came 
upon  him  suddenly  face  to  face.  He  was  confused  with 
sleep,  he  was  unprepared  to  act  wisely,  he  had  already 
broken  down.  But  was  all  the  fine  thinking  about 
defence  of  his  Friend  to  go  for  nothing  ?  Blindly  he 
raised  his  sword  and  struck — impetuously  struck,  with- 
out a  moment's  thought — struck  with  a  result  which, 
in  contrast  with  the  boast  and  the  preparation,  was  ridi- 
culous. 

Again,  it  had  been  better  had  he  been  still.  For  re- 
sistance was  impossible.  A  blow  would  do  no  good,  only 
irritate  the  men  against  his  Friend.  It  was  constancy, 
not  violence,  which  was  now  required.  Again,  therefore, 
he  earned  his  Master's  quiet  rebuke,  *  Put  up  thy  sword 
into  its  sheath.' 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  man  who,  having  nerved  himself 
for  days  for  some  great  stroke  in  life,  is  suddenly  betrayed 
into  striking  at  the  wrong  time — too  soon  for  success, 


The  Denial  of  S.  Peter.  1 7 

or  too  late  for  honour  ?  He  has  put  all  the  concentrated 
passion  of  his  heart  into  one  blow  at  the  wrong  time,  and 
the  blow  exhausts  him  utterly.  He  has  no  power  left. 
He  is  thenceforth  the  prey  of  circumstances. 

Strike  as  hard  as  you  like  at  the  right  time,  and 
everything  assists  you.  The  blow,  instead  of  diminish- 
ing, redoubles  your  force ;  success  is  parent  of  success. 
Strike  at  the  wrong  time,  or  in  the  wrong  manner  (and 
Peter's  impetuosity  and  self-conceit  were  sure  to  lead 
him  wrong),  and  all  the  virtue  goes  out  of  you ;  you  fail, 
and  failure  gives  birth  to  failure;  your  chance  is  lost, 
and  you  become  fearful,  unbelieving,  the  victim,  for  the 
moment,  of  any  dishonour  which  may  cross  your  path. 
So  it  was  with  Peter.  As  high  as  had  been  the  excite- 
ment, so  entire  now  was  the  exhaustion  in  the  reaction. 
Fear  came  in  upon  him ;  he  turned  and  fled ;  and  oh  ! 
miserable,  the  brave  man  became  a  coward,  and  the  loyal 
friend  a  base  deserter. 

Still  Peter  did  not  know  his  weakness ;  still  did  he 
mistake  his  impetuosity  for  power.  It  may  have  been  an 
unconscious  sense  of  shame  which  led  him  to  creep  in  the 
distance  after  his  Master.  It  was  more  probably  conceit 
of  heart.  Had  he  not  struck,  and  struck  home,  in  defence 
of  Christ  ?  He  would  go  and  see  the  end.  He  did  not 
know  that  every  atom  of  strength  of  will  had  gone,  and 
left  him  open  to  any  infamy. 

"We  come  now  to  the  third  j^hase  of  this  epic — the  be- 
trayal and  repentance.  It  took  place  in  the  outer  court 
of  the  high  priest's  palace. 

The  Saviour  was  first  brought  to  the  house  of  Annas, 
and  afterwards  sent  on  to  Caiaphas.     S.  John^s  account 


1 8  The  Denial  of  S,  Peter, 

seems  to  say  that  S.  Peter's  first  denial  took  place  in 
the  former  house.  But  the  24th  verse  may  be  explained 
as  retrosjoective,  and  allows  us  to  infer  that  the  first 
denial,  as  well  as  the  others,  took  place  in  the  house  of 
Caiaphas.  Into  the  large  open  court  of  the  palace  Peter 
was  admitted  by  the  influence  of  S.  John.  In  the  midst, 
as  the  night  was  cold,  a  fire  was  burning.  As  the 
servant  opened  the  door,  the  light  of  the  lantern  fell 
upon  the  face  of  Peter,  and  the  maid  seemed  to  recog- 
nize him.  "When  he  stood  by  the  fire,  she  accused  him 
as  one  of  the  companions  of  Christ,  and  he  denied  his 
Lord.  He  left  the  betraying  light  of  the  fire,  and  went 
to  the  porch.  There  he  was  again  recognized,  and  again 
denied.  About  an  hour  afterwards,  when  the  wretched 
man  had  returned  into  the  court,  another  asked  him, 
*  Art  thou  not  also  one  of  them  ?  '  and  Peter,  stung  with 
fear,  vehemently  denied  again,  calling  God  to  witness 
to  his  lie.  At  that  moment  the  cock  crew,  and  from  one 
of  the  chambers  which  surrounded  the  inner  court  and 
opened  into  it,  through  the  open  door,  Peter  saw  hia 
Master  coming  forth,  who  turned  and  looked  upon  him. 
It  was  too  much.  All  rushed  upon  him  in  a  moment. 
He  went  out,  followed  by  those  patient  and  reproachful 
eyes — went  out  and  wept  bitterly. 

It  was  a  cruel  sin,  and  its  progress  is  a  type  of  all  sin. 

It  took  its  rise  from  that  part  of  Peter's  charactei 
which  he  considered  most  strong.  If  in  anything  he 
was  sure  not  to  fail,  it  was  in  passionate  constancy  to  one 
whom  he  loved  and  honoured.  If  in  anything  he  was 
confident,  it  was  in  his  fiery  courage.  Against  all  other 
errors   he    might  watch  and  pray,  but  on  this  side  the 


The  Denial  of  S,  Peter.  19 

castle  of  his  soul  was  inaccessible  to  evil.  So  tliere  he  left 
himself  unguarded- 
Alas  !  it  is  up  these  inaccessible  sides  of  rock  that  the 
enemy  comes,  and,  before  we  are  aware,  we  have  ad- 
mitted the  very  sin  the  thought  even  of  which  we  should 
have  scorned  but  yesterday.  Self  enters  over  the  very 
bulwark  of  self-devotion.  Falsehood  comes  in  over  the 
rampart  which  truth  guards.  SensuaKty  creeps  through 
the  postern  which  pure  love  has  fortified.  And  once  the 
way  is  open  to  one  enemy,  others  come  pouring  in  along 
with  it.  The  garrison  of  the  soul  is  taken  by  surprise. 
Peter  admitted  sloth,  and  after  it  came  dishonour,  false- 
hood to  friendship,  falsehood  to  himself,  denial  of  his 
Master,  cowardice,  swearing  and  cursing. 

How  all  that  comes  home  to  us !  Who  has  ever 
boasted  and  not  rued  his  boast  ?  Who  has  ever  been 
content  with  once  sinning  in  a  particular  way  and  not 
gone  on,  allured  by  the  very  horror  and  danger,  as  well 
as  by  the  pleasure  and  sin,  further  in  the  same  path  ? 
Who  has  ever  admitted  one  sin  and  not  found  himself 
forced  by  dire  necessity  to  support  that  sin  by  others  ? 
A  kind  of  frenzy  seems  to  seize  us,  and  David's  adultery 
is  followed  by  murder,  and  SauPs  jealousy  by  hatred,  and 
hatred  by  assassination,  and  Adam's  disobedience  by  un- 
manliness  and  reproach  of  God,  and  Demas'  love  of  the 
world  by  unfaithfulness  to  the  cause  of  God.  Sin  multi- 
plies from  itself. 

It  is  trite,  but  true,  '  Avoid  the  beginnings  of  evil.' 
You  cannot  tell  what  one  hateful  thought  may  end  in. 
Therefore  learn  this  great  lesson  from  S.  Peter's  guilt 
— to  guard  well  those  avenues  of  the  soul  which  seem 


20  The  Denial  of  S,  Peter, 

to  you  the  fairest  and  the  nearest  passages  to  God — to 
be  humble,  watchful,  and  prayerful  at  those  very  points 
where  you  think  your  character  is  noblest  and  your  heart 
most  faithful.  Hear  always  in  your  spirit  Christ's  words 
to  S.  Peter,  '  Watch  and  pray^  lest  ye  enter  into  tempt- 
ation/ 

Learn  this  lesson  also  from  the  story — that  in  this 
world  we  often  stand  like  Peter  in  the  court,  and  are 
called  upon  to  declare  our  sympathy  with  our  Lord. 
"We  despise  Peter  for  his  denial.  How  often  have  we 
ourselves  acted  so,  and  so  denied  ?  You  are  called 
upon  for  your  opinion  upon  a  question  of  principle. 
You  suppress  it  for  fear  of  men.  What  is  that  but 
saying,  ^  I  know  not  the  man '  ?  You  are  in  a  strait 
betAveen  two  courses  of  action ;  one  is  right,  but  it  will 
cause  you  loss  of  some  dignity  or  some  wealth  ;  one  is 
wrong,  wrong  to  you,  but  it  will  bring  you  into  Parlia- 
ment, or  give  you  a  fortune.  You  choose  the  latter. 
What  is  that  but  the  guilt  of  Peter  ?  You  are  challenged 
by  men  as  a  believer  in  Christ,  and  marked  out  for  ridi- 
cule because  you  will  not  go  with  the  infidel  or  the  sen- 
sualist, and  you  are  silent  or  deny  the  accusation.  How 
does  that  differ  from  S.  Peter's  betrayal — '  Man,  I  know 
not  what  thou  sayest '  ?  There,  in  the  great  hall  of  the 
world,  Christ  is  being  accused  and  smitten  on  the  face, 
and  we  (who  in  our  study,  or  when  danger  and  difficulty 
were  far  away,  said  to  ourselves,  'Though  I  should  die 
with  Thee,  I  will  not  deny  Thee^)  now,  when  we  are 
brought  into  the  open  court  of  life,  and,  among  the  crush 
of  scornful  men  or  angry  parties,  are  in  fear  of  losing  our 
prosperity  or  our  social  repute — deny  Him,  abjure  Him 


The  Denial  of  S.  Pder,  1 1 

as  our  Master  !  Oh  !  if  it  ever  should  be  so  with  us,  and 
we  become  so  swept  away  from  the  region  of  truth  as  to 
deny,  in  denying  Christ,  our  noble  nature,  may  Christ 
our  Saviour  turn  and  look  on  us  with  pitying  eyes  full 
of  regretful  sorrow  for  our  fall,  and  we  go  forth  and 
weep  bitterly,  smitten  with  the  dart  of  His  silent  and 
tender  reproach. 

We  find  Peter  now  convinced  of  his  sin.  What  were 
the  two  outward  occurrences  which  drove  home  conviction 
to  his  heart  ? 

The  first  was  an  event  which  recalled  in  a  mo- 
ment the  prediction  of  Christ.  'Immediately  the  cock 
crew.' 

No  trumpet  of  an  innocent  morn  to  Peter,  but  a 
'lofty  and  loud  shrilling  voice,'  which  rang  'traitor'  in 
his  ear.  He  had  heard  the  sound  a  thousand  times,  and 
it  struck  no  chord  in  his  heart  but  one  of  cheerful  life ; 
but  now,  all  came  back  in  a  moment — the  meeting 
with  the  Saviour  by  the  lake,  the  early  friendship  so 
fair  and  pure,  the  long  discipleship  in  which  he  had 
found  himself  ennobled,  the  quiet  unwavering  love 
which  trained  him  day  by  day,  the  life  so  holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  yet  withal  so  great  in  manliness, 
so  bright  with  courage,  the  last  supj)er,  the  talk  about 
betraj'al,  the  eager  boast,  the  sad  prediction  of  denial, 
the  indignant  assertion  of  willingness  to  die  for  Christ, 
the  forgetful  slumber  in  the  garden,  the  shameful  flight, 
and  now  the  dark  dishonour  of  a  threefold  denial  of  his 
Master — all,  all  the  past  swept  in  one  moment  like  a 
storm  across  his  soul.  For  the  first  time  he  saw  himself 
as  he  was,  and  shame,  burning  shame,  sorrow,  bitter  sor- 


22  The  Denial  of  S.  Peter, 

row,  invaded  his  heart  all  broken  with  the  '  late  remorse 
of  love.' 

*  Immediately  the  cock  crew.  Then  Peter  remembered 
the  word  of  the  Lord.' 

Make  the  meaning  of  this  your  own.  Much  of  the 
memory  of  the  past  is  only  waked  by  coming  into 
contact  with  those  things  with  which  the  past  has  been 
associated.  See  once  more  a  river  by  which  you 
walked  in  boyhood,  hear  a  song  which  charmed  your 
youth,  and  all  the  past  rises  from  its  grave  and  lives 
again. 

Blessed  is  he  whose  life  has  been  pure,  on  whom  the 
stars  smile  with  the  same  smile  with  which  they  greeted 
his  boyhood,  for  whom  the  sea  hides  no  dark  memories, 
in  whose  ear  music  is  always  sweet,  who  can  revisit  after 
years  the  haunts  of  the  past,  and  no  ghastly  phantom 
come  to  bring  back  the  exiled  memory  of  guilt  to  chill 
his  blood  and  sere  his  brain. 

For  there  is  nothing  really  dead  in  this  world.  You 
have  buried  your  sin  ;  but  it  is  only  buried  as  the  hurried 
murderer  buries  the  corpse  of  his  victim,  with  a  thin  layer 
of  light  sand.  You  pass  it  by,  and  inadvertently  tread 
upon  the  grave.  A  skeleton  arm  starts  up,  and  points  to 
heaven  and  to  you. 

There  is  nothing  really  forgotten.  One  touchy  one 
sound,  one  sight,  the  murmur  of  a  stream,  a  breaking 
wave,  the  sound  of  a  church  bell,  the  barking  of  a  dog 
heard  in  the  still  evening  from  a  hill,  a  green  path  in  a 
wood  with  the  sunlight  glinting  on  it,  the  way  of  the 
moon  upon  the  waters,  may,  at  certain  moments,  turn  the 
heart  to  stone  and  fill  life  with  a  concentrated  agony  of 


The  De7iial  of  S.  Peter,  23 

Immediately  tlie  cock  crew.  Then  Peter  re- 
membered the  word  of  the  Lord ;  and  he  went  out,  and 
wept  bitterly/ 

The  second  circumstance  which  pierced  the  heart  of 
Peter  was  the  look  of  Christ.  It  is  probable  that,  at 
the  very  moment  when  Peter  raised  his  voice  in  cursing, 
Jesus  was  led  out  of  the  hall  of  Caiaphas  and  through 
the  court.  He  heard  His  disciple's  last  denial  and  the 
crowing  of  the  cock.  He  turned  and  looked  on  Peter. — 
*  Thou  too,  who  wouldst  die  with  me,  thou  deniest ;  thou, 
the  man  of  rock !  my  friend,  my  follower.'  The  silent 
glance  was  vocal  with  regret  and  love.  And  Peter  saw 
the  miserable  depth  of  his  fall  in  the  look  of  Christ — saw 
there  not  the  reproach  of  anger,  but  the  reproach  of 
tenderness.  The  arrow  of  that  look  went  deep.  His 
heart  was  broken  with  its  pain.  He  feared  no  more  his 
enemies,  nor  danger,  nor  yet  death  ;  for  in  his  own  heart 
he  bore  a  pang  deeper  than  death  could  give.  ^  He  went 
out,  and  wept  bitterly.' 

Wept  bitterly.  What  were  those  tears  ?  They  were 
the  tears  of  shame,  the  tears  of  the  deep  remorse  of  love. 
How  bitter  none  can  tell  but  those  who  have  denied  a 
love  as  deep  as  that  of  Christ's  to  Peter ;  how  bitter  only 
those  can  conceive  in  degree  who  have  felt,  over  the 
death-bed  of  one  who  has  been  neglected  while  she 
devoted  life  to  love,  that  they  would  give  a  thousand 
worlds  to  hear  her  voice  again  and  beg  of  her  forgive- 
ness. 

Bitter  tears  they  were ;  but  they  made  him  a  new  man. 
It  was  the  moment  of  Peter's  true  conversion.  We  have 
seen   him  impetuous   and  brave,  but   self-conceited   and 


24  The  Denial  of  S.  Peter. 

imprudent ;  we  have  seen  him  eager  in  love  and  anger, 
but  drifting  into  neglect  of  friendship  and  passing  into 
dishonour.  We  have  seen  him  as  leader  of  the  apostolic 
group,  confessing  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  when 
the  hour  of  trial  came,  denying  Christ  as  Master  and  as 
Friend.  We  see  him  now  broken  in  spirit,  self-shamed, 
fallen  from  his  high  estate,  alone  and  desolate  in  heart, 
leaning  against  the  wall,  in  the  bitter  dawn  of  the 
spring  morning,  his  whole  frame  shaken  with  the  weep- 
ing of  an  heroic  man.  Yes,  heroic — for  Peter  was  greater 
than  he  had  ever  been  as  yet.  He  passed  in  those 
awful  tears  from  the  state  of  childhood  to  the  state  of 
manhood. 

It  is  strange  how  little  we  imagine  in  our  youth,  when 
the  path  of  life  is  woven  of  the  sunbeam  and  the  rainbow, 
how  deeply  and  bitterly  we  may  yet  weep  in  after  life. 
But  till  those  tears  or  their  equivalent  come  on  us,  we 
are  not  yet  men,  but  children.  Life  has  not  opened  to  us 
its  terrible  but  dignifjdng  secrets.  We  have  not  yet 
trodden  the  inner  shrine,  the  portal  of  which  is  kept  by 
sacred  sorrow. 

This  -was  the  hour  which  had  come  now  to  S.  Peter. 
*  A  deep  distress  had  humanized  his  soul.'  A  deep  sorrow 
had  begun  within  him  the  formation  of  the  character 
strong  as  a  rock,  on  which  his  brethren  and  the  Church 
were  to  repose.  A  spiritual  convulsion  had  revolutionized 
his  life,  and  made  him  into  a  man. 

But  such  tears  may  make  a  hard  and  bitter  man. 
The  tears  of  remorse  may  petrify  the  heart  to  granite. 
Manhood  comes,  but  it  ma}^  be  the  manhood  of  con- 
tempt of  the  world,  a  manhood  of  scorn  and  not  of  ten- 


The  Denial  of  S.  Peter.  25 

derness.  It  was  not  so  with.  S.  Peter.  Tliey  were  not 
only  tears  of  remorseful  love,  but  tears  of  penitence. 
Christ's  look  was  full  of  sorrow  for  His  Apostle,  but  full 
also  of  ineffable  affection.  Peter  felt  he  was  forgiven, 
and  the  bitterness  of  his  tears  passed  into  the  indescrib- 
able softness  of  passionate  penitence,  into  the  unutter- 
able resolution  to  be  worthy  of  his  Saviour ^s  love.  A 
new  life  was  possible  to  him,  he  might  yet  be  counted 
worthj^  to  die  for  his  Master.  And  so  it  was.  None 
was  so  changed  as  be.  His  courage  never  faltered,  his 
voice  never  again  denied  his  Lord.  His  brave  words 
still  excite  us  as  we  hear  them  sp6ken  before  the  San- 
hedrim. He  testified  before  kings,  he  died  the  martyr  of 
the  truth. 

0  brethren !  it  should  be  so  with.  us.  Wben  the 
pain  of  drear  conviction  of  a  lost  life  or  a  sinful  heart 
is  come  upon  you,  do  not  go  out  with  Judas  into  the 
night  of  despair ;  go  out  with  Peter  into  the  chill  dawn- 
ing, with  Christ's  look  of  reproachful  love  within  your 
heart.  Learn  the  meaning  of  that  look,  for  it  means 
forgiveness.  Then  remorse  will  pass  into  healing  peni- 
tence. *  A  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God,  Thou 
wilt  not  despise.'  Despise — no !  but  uplift  into  power, 
grace,  and  holiness.  God  forgives ;  and  you,  touched  by 
the  unexpected  depth  of  love  into  humble  but  resolute 
faith,  say  to  your  heart,  as  Peter  may  have  said  after  his 
tears,  My  Master,  '  though  I  die  for  Thee,  yet  will  I  never 
deny  Thee.' 

The  last  phase  through  which  this  epic  passed  was 
by  the  shores  of  the  lake  of  Galilee.  There  the  purifi- 
cation of  Peter  was  completed.     He  had  gone  back  to 


26  The  Denial  of  S.  Peter, 

his  old  life  of  fishing  with  a  still  heart,  full  of  a  noble 
sorrow.  There,  where  he  first  had  left  all  to  follow  the 
Saviour,  he  saw  Him  once  again ;  there,  in  the  dazzling 
morning  light,  the  well-known  figure  stood  upon  the 
shore.  And  Peter,  impetuous  as  ever,  plunged  into  the 
lake  to  kneel  at  His  sacred  feet  and  worship.  There, 
three  times,  did  Jesus  ask  him  who  had  denied  Him 
thrice,  the  question,  'Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou 
Me  ? '  and  thrice  did  Peter's  heart  answer,  '  Lord,  Thou 
knowest  'that  I  love  Thee.'  And  there  the  repentance 
was  accepted  and  secured  ;  thrice  did  the  Saviour  by 
His  reply,  *  Feed  my  sheep,  feed  my  lambs,'  restore  the 
Apostle  to  his  rank  among  His  followers,  and  appoint  to 
him  his  duty. 


^he  Lessons  of  the  Cholera,  27 


[Aug.  19,  1866.] 
TEE  LESSONS  OF  THE  CHOLERA. 
Amos  iii.  5. 

The  presence  among  us  of  an  epidemic  as  strange  as  it 
is  deadly,  and  the  special  prayer  concerning  it  issued 
by  the  order  of  the  Government,  make  it  the  duty  of  the 
pastors  of  the  Church  of  England  to  endeavour,  from 
their  pulpits,  to  divest  the  mind  of  the  religious  public 
of  certain  superstitious  views  which  notoriously  hinder 
the  labours  of  men  of  science  to  get  rid  of  the  plague. 
For  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  all  ages  there  has  been  as 
much  evil  done  and  as  much  good  prevented  during 
epidemics,  by  certain  theological  theories  on  what  are 
rightly  called  God's  judgments,  as  there  has  been  good 
done  and  evil  overcome  by  the  self-denying  devotion  of 
those  who  hold  these  theories. 

In  fact,  the  good  they  do  is  less  than  the  evil.  Devo- 
tion to  the  sick  relieves  a  few  individuals ;  a  superstitious 
idea  leads  astray  all  the  souls  of  a  nation  for  centuries, 
and  retards  the  salutary  work  of  science. 

It  is  very  hard  on  scientific  men  that  their  conscien- 
tious obstructors  in  every  age  have  been  those  reKgious 
men  who,  from  want  of  faith  in  a  God  of  order 
and  truth,  and  from  blind  cleaving  to  blind  opinions, 
have  opposed  instead   of  assisting  those   whose   objects 


2  8  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera, 

were  the  welfare  of  the  race  through  the  discovery  of 
truth. 

It  is  almost  too  strange  to  think  that  the  spirit  of 
the  inquisitors  who  condemned  Galileo  has  not  yet  died 
out.  There  are  not  a  few  teachers  now  who  excom- 
municate in  thought  those  who  say  that  the  cholera 
is  subject  to  laws  ;  that  the  best  way  to  put  an  end 
to  it  is  to  find  out  those  laws  and  range  ourselves  upon 
their  side;  and  that  this  investigation  and  effort  are 
the  true  prayer  to  God,  and  the  true  way  of  meeting 
the  judgment  of  God  in  j)estilence.  It  is  incumbent 
on  every  clergyman  now  to  free  himself  from  this  party 
of  retrogression,  and  to  endeavour  to  free  his  flock  from 
its  superstition.  We  will  try,  with  God's  help,  to  do  so 
to-day. 

I  speak,  first,  of  the  cholera  as  a  judgment. 

The  home  of  this  dreadful  disease  is  in  India.  It  never, 
for  example,  altogether  abandons  Calcutta.  But  from 
thence,  and  from  India  in  general,  it  now  and  then,  at 
varying  periods,  proceeds  westward  ;  sometimes  loitering 
on  its  course,  sometimes  turning  backwards  for  a  time, 
but  always  marching  on,  till,  crossing  the  Atlantic,  it 
seems  to  die  out  in  America. 

For  many  years  the  most  remarkable  ignorance  pre- 
vailed about  it,  and  even  now  we  have  no  accurate  ac- 
quaintance with  its  ways.  We  have  no  real  knowledge 
of  how  it  originates,  of  the  cause  of  its  curious  periodi- 
city, of  the  means  whereby  it  is  propagated.  Different 
theories  account  for  different  outbreaks,  but  none  are 
sufiicient  to  explain  all  the  outbreaks  which  have  taken 
place.     Nor   have  we   any   knowledge   how   to   cure  it. 


The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera.  29 

Tlie  medicine  which,  relieves  one  patient  seems  to  in- 
crease the  disease  of  another.  Nor  can  we  predict  the 
mode  in  which  the  cholera  will  kill  or  will  affect  a 
patient ;  nothing,  apparently,  is  so  capricious.  Some 
are  iU  for  days,  others. for  a  few  hours  only;  some  have 
died,  it  is  said,  in  incredibly  short  spaces  of  time.  Some 
have  acute  pain,  others  have  very  little.  Some  wrestle 
out  of  life,  others  drift  quietly  into  death.  It  seems  as  if 
death  were  the  result  of  some  subtle  poison  received  in 
smaller  or  larger  doses,  and  having  the  peculiar  property 
of  changing  its  mode  of  operation  in  accordance  with  the 
particular  constitution  it  attacks. 

Now  put  yourselves  back  into  old  Athenian  times,  and 
ask  what  would  be  the  result  on  the  people  of  such  a  new 
phenomenon — of  the  cause,  the  cure,  and  the  mode  of 
operation  of  which  they  were  entirely  ignorant.  They 
could  refer  it  to  no  law ;  they  saw  no  reason  for  it  or  in 
it.  It  was  so  strange  that  it  could  not  be  the  work  of  any 
of  their  common  gods.  At  once  they  leaped  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  was  the  doing  of  some  unknown  god, 
whom,  in  some  way  or  other,  they  had  offended,  who  had 
got  into  a  passion  with  them  and  was  resolved  to  have  his 
revenge.  Hence  they  strove  to  propitiate  him  by  sacri- 
fice and  prayer.  The  story  goes  that,  at  least  once,  they 
let  loose  some  sheep  from  the  Areopagus  and  wherever 
the  wandering  animals  lay  down,  built  an  altar  to  the 
unknown  deity  and  sacrificed  them  to  appease  his  wrath. 
One  thing  they  did  not  do.  They  did  not  try  to  investi- 
gate thecauses  of  the  disease;  they  did  not  collect  facts 
about  it.  They  assumed  it  was  supernatural,  instead  of 
assuming  it  was  natural. 


30  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera 

Such  was  tlie  style  of  thouglit  and  theology  in  vogue 
among  tlie  heathen. 

Ours,  of  course,  is  entirely  different  from  that  of  these 
*  benighted  idolaters/  We,  who  know  God  as  the  un- 
alterable, the  uncapricious,  whose  unchangeable  love  con- 
stitutes unchangeable  law,  we  do  not  impute  this  plague 
of  which  we  know  nothing,  and  the  strangeness  of  which 
seems  to  separate  it  from  other  diseases,  to  a  caprice  on 
the  part  of  God  which  He  will  remove  on  our  imploring 
Him  to  let  us  off. 

Yet,  wonderful  to  say,  if  we  do  not  do  that  exactly,  we 
do  something  so  very  like  it  that  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that,  considering  our  additional  light,  a  part  of 
our  religious  world  is  guilty,  with  regard  to  the  cholera, 
of  grosser  superstition  than  the  Athenians. 

Ignorant  of  how  it  comes,  looking  at  its  suddenness 
of  slaughter,  its  curious  partiality,  its  horrible  strange- 
ness, we  separate  it  from  other  diseases  which  we  are 
content  to  consider  natural,  and  refer  it  to  a  super- 
natural origin.  We  talk,  and  pray,  and  teach,  as  if  it 
had  no  natural  cause,  obeyed  no  natural  laws.  We 
call  it,  theologically,  not  religiously,  a  judgment  of  God, 
arid  we  use  the  term  with  a  supernatural  meaning 
attached  to  it.  We  called  the  small-pox  a  judgment  of 
God  in  this  supernatural  sense  till  we  found  out  vac- 
cination. We  called  the  famine  in  Ireland  a  judgment 
cf  God  in  this  supernatural  sense  till  we  arrived  by  in- 
vestigation at  its  real  causes.  A  boat  goes  out  from 
a  seaport  town  on  Sunday;  it  is  overturned,  and 
the  crew  are  drowned.  Next  Sunday  the  pulpit  tells 
you  it  was  a  judgment  of  God   on  the   men  for  break- 


The  Lesso7is  of  the  Cholera.  31 

ing  the  Sabbath,  and  thougb  a  hundred  other  boats 
have  gone  and  returned  in  safety _,  the  preachers  re- 
pudiate the  notion  that  the  boat  went  down  because 
the  men  were  careless  or  because  it  was  struck  by  a 
squall.  It  is  astonishing  to  think  how  widely  English 
theological  thought  is  leavened  with  this  superstition. 
Surely,  surely.  Christian  men  might  have  learned 
enouo-h  from  the  words  of  Christ  and  from  science  as 
the  interpreter  of  His  will,  to  have  passed  beyond 
Jewish  and  heathen  thought  and  to  have  attained  a 
higher  region. 

We  judge,  and  judge  rightly,  a  mode  of  thinking  by 
its  results.     What  are  the  results  of  this  superstition  ? 

According  to  its  theory,  the  cholera  is  supernatural. 
*  Nothing  will  stop  it,  then,  but  prayer ;  for  we  cannot 
by  natural  means  attack  the  supernatural.'  So,  as  his- 
tory has  often  shown  us,  all  energy  is  diminished,  all 
effort  against  the  evil  is  crushed.  Fortunately,  though 
the  supernatural  theory  is  taught,  it  is  not  generally 
acted  upon.  It  is  good  for  exciting  fear,  religious  ex- 
citement, and  for  hiding  from  men's  eyes  the  real  evils 
which  the  cholera  points  out  to  us  as  deserving  of  God's 
anger.  It  is  good  for  nothing  else.  Indeed  it  is  good 
for  nothing.  It  creates  a  miserable  fear  and  terror. 
No  one  knows  that  he  may  not  have  committed  the  un- 
known sin  which  is  the  cause  of  the  cholera ;  and  every 
sect  according  to  its  hatreds,  and  every  one  according 
to  his  prejudices,  lays  down  a  different  sin  as  that  cause. 
Men  are  thrown  into  a  state  of  vague  dread  and  con- 
fusion of  mind.  Some  become  abject  and  fly;  others 
become    reckless  and   licentious — eat  and  drink,  for  to- 


32  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholei^a. 

morrow  they  die.  Their  religion  is  a  religion  of  fear 
and  ignorance — the  true  definition  of  superstition.  God 
is  regarded  as  a  foe  who  is  to  be  bought  off  or  coaxed 
by  prayer  to  give  up  His  wrath.  He  is  spoken  to  as  if 
He  were  liable  to  sudden  incursions  of  anger,  subject  to 
our  passions  and  our  weakness,  as  if  He  were  the  God 
of  disorder  and  not  of  order,  of  special  providences  and 
not  of  law. 

These  are  the  evil  results,  on  life,  action,  and  theology, 
which  have  in  all  ages  flowed  from  this  superstition  and 
which  condemn  it ;  and  though  they  do  not  present  them- 
selves now  in  the  same  strongly  outlined  aspect  (a  result 
we  owe  to  scientific  men),  yet  they  still  exist  and  their 
source  exists. 

Is  there  no  truth,  then,  in  the  phrase,  'A  judgment  of 
God '  ?     Yes  ;  plenty  of  truth. 

These  things — famine,  pestilence,  revolution,  war — 
are  judgments  of  the  Euler  of  the  world.  "What  sort  of 
a  Ruler,  we  ask,  is  He?  The  answer  to  that  question 
will  determine  the  true  sense  of  the  term,  a  judgment  of 
God.  The  heathen  saw  Him  as  a  passionate,  capricious, 
changeable  Being,  who  could  be  angered  and  appeased 
by  men.  The  Jewish  prophets  saw  Him  as  a  God  whose 
ways  were  equal,  who  was  unchangeable,  whose  decrees 
were  perpetual,  who  was  not  to  be  bought  off  by  sacri- 
fices but  pleased  by  righteous  dealing,  and  who  would 
remove  the  punishment  when  the  causes  which  brought 
it  on  were  taken  away :  in  their  own  words,  when  men 
repented,  God  would  repent.  That  does  not  mean  that 
He  changed  His  laws  to  relieve  them  of  their  suffering, 
but  that  they  changed  their  relationship  to  His  laws,  so 


The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera,  33 

that,  to  them  thus  changed,  God  seemed  to  change.  X. 
boat  rows  against  the  stream ;  the  current  punishes  it. 
So  is  a  nation  violating  a  law  of  God ;  it  is  subject  to  a 
judgment.  The  boat  turns  and  goes  with  the  stream ; 
t'he  current  assists  it.  So  is  a  nation  which  has  repented 
and  put  itself  into  harmony  with  God's  law ;  it  is  subject 
to  a  blessing.  But  the  current  is  the  same ;  it  has  not 
changed,  only  the  boat  has  changed  its  relationship  to 
the  current.  Keither  does  God  change — we  change ;  and 
the  same  law  which  executed  itself  in  punishment  now 
expresses  itself  in  reward. 

Such  a  God  as  this,  so  rej)resented  by  the  Jewish  pro- 
phets^ must  rule  the  world  in  an  orderly  manner.  His 
judgments  could  not  be  arbitrary".  Each  judgment  was 
connected  with  its  proper  cause,  and  was  the  result  of  the 
violation  of  a  particular  law  or  set  of  laws.  In  its  execu- 
tion God  pointed  out  the  causes  which  had  brought  it  on, 
and  said,  Change  those  causes ;  repent  of  those  trans- 
gressions of  my  laws.  Find  out  my  laws  and  accord  with 
them  your  action,  and  my  judgment  will  become  to  you 
not  punishment  but  blessing. 

Now  all  this,  long  ago  manifested  in  the  prophetical 
teaching,  is  the  very  thing  which  science  teaches.  Take 
the  case  of  an  epidemic.  The  scientific  man  says,  '  It  has 
its  own  causes  and  its  own  conditions.  Eemove  the 
causes,  change  the  conditions,  and  you  will  destroy  the 
epidemic.  All  that  is  wanted  is  investigation,  question- 
ing of  the  facts.  The  existence  of  the  disease  is  a  proof 
of  the  existence  of  some  evil  which  ought  to  be  rooted 
out.' 

So  said  the  scientific  man_,  unconsciously  teaching  us. 


34  The  Lesso7is  of  the  Cholera, 

when  we  had  nigh  forgotten  it,  that  God  is  a  God  of 
order  and  love.  But  sometirdes  enamoured  of  his  laws 
and  his  results,  he  refused  to  see  God  at  all  in  the  uni- 
verse ;  and,  going  as  far  in  his  incredulity  as  the  theo- 
logian in  his  superstition,  smiled  at  the  declaration  of 
a  pestilence  being  a  judgment  of  God.  It  is  nothing, 
he  said,  nothing  but  natural  laws  working  out  their 
results. 

Brethren,  the  Christian  believes  it  to  be  much  more. 
He  says  to  the  physician,  '  You  speak  truth  so  far  as  you 
go.  I  accept  your  teaching,  with  all  its  results.  But 
there  is  something  more.  These  natural  laws,  these 
series  of  causes  and  effects,  are  ordered  by  a  Divine  intelli- 
gence and  a  moral  will.  Their  violation  is  a  trans- 
gression, but  the  moment  man  becomes  aware  that  evil 
follows  on  their  violation,  it  is  not  only  a  transgression 
but  a  sin.  Moral  guilt  attends  the  nation  which  refuses 
to  take  measures  for  the  extinguishing  of  disease.  It 
is  not  only,  then,  the  sense  of  physical  disorder,  but 
also  the  conscience,  which  these  judgments  appeal  to. 
We  find  ourselves  not  only  in  the  presence  of  mere  law, 
we  are  brought  into  the  presence  of  God.  The  material- 
ist, in  calling  on  us  to  remedy  these  national  evils,  can 
onl}^  appeal  to  one  part  of  our  nature,  that  part  which 
loves  comfort  or  dreads  death,  or  is  pained  by  the  suffer- 
ing of  others.  We  can  take  up  the  materialist's  position, 
and  appeal  to  something  further — to  the  profound  sense 
of  right  or  wrong  in  man,  and  to  that  spiritual  motive 
which  is  born  of  desire  to  obey  a  loving  Father.  Hence 
we  are  anxious  to  say.  These  judgments  are  GocVs  judg- 
ments.    He    is    di;^playing   His    justice    in    punishment; 


The  Lesso7is  of  the  Cholera.  2)S 

but  the  very  punisliment  itself  is  a  proof  of  His  love. 
For  the  disease  does  not  only  punish  evils,  it  points  them 
out ;  it  discloses  to  us  the  evils  we  were  ignorant  of, 
in  order  that  we  may  remedy  them.  This  is  God's  love  in 
judgment. 

Let  me  apply  these  princijDles  to  the  cholera.  Science 
would  not  accejDt  the  superstitious  teaching  of  the  theo- 
logian. It  set  itself  to  work  on  the  facts  of  the  cholera. 
It  learnt  something  of  its  mode  of  j^ropagation ;  it  dis- 
covered some  of  the  conditions  which  either  increase 
or  diminish  its  virulence.  And  as  this  knowledge  deve- 
loped itself,  we  saw  that  the  cholera  ica8  a  judgment 
of  God.  We  saw  that  the  conditions  in  which  it  de- 
veloped itself  were  national  sins.  It  laid  its  finger  on 
the  disgrace  of  England,  the  canker  which  eats  into 
the  heart  of  our  nation — the  neglected  state  of  our 
poor.  It  said  to  us,  Look  iliere,  and  repent,  and  do 
works  meet  for  repentance.  For  where  does  the  cholera 
take  its  dreadful  march  most  unresisted,  and  do  its 
dreadful  work  most  easil}^  ?  Not  among  the  rich,  the 
well-housed,  and  the  comfortable,  but  in  places  where 
our  sinful  neglect  has  left  the  poor  crowded  together 
like  negroes  in  the  Middle  Passage ;  where  the  com- 
monest sanitary  arrangements  are  so  passed  over,  that 
the  air  is  a  mist  of  foul  and  pestilential  vapour;  where 
the  water  is  all  tainted  with  unspeakable  filth ;  where 
to  relieve  thirst  with  water  is  to  produce  disease  or 
death  by  poison  (when  we  complain  of  the  drunkennesa 
of  the  lower  classes,  we  ought  first  to  examine  the  water 
they  have  to  drink)  ;  where  the  dust-heaps  remain 
for   weeks   piled    up    against   the    windows ;    where    the 

D  2 


36  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera, 

cholera  finds  weakened  bodies,  starved  frames,  ignorant, 
fear-enslaved  minds  on  which  to  work  its  will.  It  is 
here  that  the  plague  revels.  These  are  the  conditions 
of  its  virulence ;  and  the  existence  of  these  things  is 
the  national  sin  which  God  is  judging,  and  of  which 
He  is  warning  us  now  and  has  warned  us  again  and 
again. 

And  what  have  we  been  doing  in  obedience  to  this 
warning?  We  have  been  expelling  the  poor  to  build 
houses  of  justice,  and  to  make  city  improvements.  We 
give  <£2  compensation  to  enable  them  to  pay  their  rent 
for  six  weeks,  and  then  we  leave  them  to  find  a  place  to 
live  in,  in  courts  where  already  families  of  six  and  eight 
are  crushed  into  a  single  room.  The  lawyers  have  not 
air  enough  in  Westminster  Hall,  but  we  think  the  poor 
have  air  enough  in  a  house  where  forty  people  live  in 
eight  lumber  rooms.  We  compensate  the  farmers  for 
the  loss  of  their  cattle  lest  our  great  landowners  should 
be  forced  to  reduce  the  rent,  but  no  one  dreams  of  com- 
pensating the  poor  for  the  loss  of  the  roof  which  covers 
them.  The  boards,  vestries,  and  other  dead  bodies  in 
whose  hands  such  matters  lay  are  incompetent  to  meet 
the  difiiculties  which  overwhelm  them.  It  is  time  that 
Parliament  should  interfere  and  do  the  work  they  can- 
not do.  The  new  Sanitary  Act  makes  overcrowding 
a  nuisance ;  but  till  we  force  railway  companies,  city 
mprovers,  and  Government  works  to  build  houses  for 
those  whom  they  dispossess — till  we  really  face  the 
fact  that  there  is  not  room  for  our  poor  in  London; 
and  build  for  them — that  part  of  the  Act  can  never  be 
enforced. 


The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera,  2^1 

Again.  It  has  been  proved  over  and  over  again  tliat  it 
is  want  of  a  continual  supply  of  pure  water  wMcli  is  the 
fruitful  cause  not  only  of  cholera  but  of  half  the  diseases 
which  decimate  the  poor.  Many  of  the  courts  in  London 
have  no  water  laid  on,  and  the  inhabitants  are  forced  to 
drink  of  pestilential  wells,  or  from  cisterns  so  foul  that 
they  are  centres  of  disease.  There  is  a  general  wish  to 
remedy  this,  but  no  real  vigorous  interest  is  taken  in  the 
question.  We  can  only  hope  it  may  be  settled  in  the 
time  of  our  grandchildren. 

*  Shall  not  I  visit  for  these  things  ?  saith  the  Lord.' 
Yes ;  He  is  visiting  us,  and  He  will  visit  us  again  and 
again  with  cholera,  till  we  learn  what  it  means  and  do 
the  necessary  work  of  repentance.  We  keep  the  con- 
ditions of  disease  close  at  hand,  we  actually  increase 
them.  We  keep  up  with  insane  selfishness  our  nurseries 
of  cholera,  typhus,  and  consumption,  and  then,  when 
cholera  comes,  we  institute  a  day  of  special  prayer, 
and  go  off  to  our  countr^^-houses  contentedly.  That  is 
not  religion,  but  a  mocker}^  of  God ;  for  a  national 
prayer  without  national  exertion  to  remedy  national 
evils  is  simply  a  national  insult  to  God.  There  is 
much  of  individual  self-devotion,  of  individual  liber- 
ality, but  we  want  more  than  that.  Individual  effort  is 
nothing  against  our  enormous  evils,  aggravated  by  an 
enormous  population ;  it  is  the  stroke  of  a  reed  against 
the  shield  of  a  giant.  God  calls  upon  us  to  repair  our 
national  wrongs  by  a  national  effort.  That  is  the 
gi^eat  religious  lesson  of  the  cholera ;  not  at  all  to 
repent  of  our  peculiar  sins,  of  our  neglect  of  God — that 
is  quite  true  in  its  place ;  but  the  religious  lesson  of  the 


38  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera. 

cholera  is  tliat  we  and  our  representatives  sliould  rouse 
from  our  stupor  upon  these  things,  and  legislate  for  the 
remedy  of  evils  which  are  at  once  the  curse  and  the  weak- 
ness of  the  nation. 

I  trust — I  trust  we  shall  do  this,  and  not  go  on  sin- 
ning, and  talking  repentance  to  God  in  national  prayers, 
with  words  which  mean  nothing  while  we  do  nothing. 
It  is  astonishing  that  our  prayer  takes  no  notice  of 
these  things,  that  it  does  not  ask  God — since  it  is  a 
special  prayer  for  special  gifts,  of  use  under  our  special 
circumstances — to  open  the  minds  of  men  to  see  the 
evils  which  are  corroding  the  bones  of  the  nation,  to  put 
it  into  the  hearts  of  men  of  mark  to  sj^eak  in  Parlia- 
ment of  these  evils,  to  give  us  wisdom  and  power  to 
legislate  wisely,  to  give  us  large  ideas  and  energy  to 
carry  them  out,  to  give  us  that  power  of  organization, 
the  want  of  which  is  our  great  failing;  to  inspire  the 
scientific  men  of  the  nation  with  keener  intellect  and 
insight  to  discover  the  remedy  of  the  disease,  and  to 
enable  us  all  to  see  the  causes  of  the  cholera  and  to  stamp 
them  out. 

I  believe  cholera  could  be  diminished  in  the  same  pro- 
portion as  small-pox  has  been,  by  destroying  the  con- 
ditions in  which  it  becomes  deadly  to  life.  Years  ago^  in 
Cheshire,  some  new  plants,  quite  unknown  beforehand 
to  the  country,  sprang  up  beside  the  canals  by  which  the 
salt  was  carried  and  in  the  pools  around  the  salt-works. 
The  people  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  this  phenome- 
non. At  lastj  some  one  who  had  lived  by  the  seaside 
recognized  the  plants  as  the  very  ones  which  haunt  the 
ledges  of  the  rocks  just  above  the  flow  of  the  tide,  but 


The  Lessojis  of  the  Cholera,  39 

within  the  wash  of  the  spray.  Then  the  thing  was  clear. 
The  germs  of  the  plants  had  been  from  year  to  year  borne 
by  the  wind  or  carried  by  birds  to  that  place,  but  the 
conditions  under  which  they  could  grow  had  not  arisen. 
At  last  the  same  conditions  which  prevailed  on  the  sea- 
coast  were  fulfilled,  and  the  germs  which  formerly  had 
died  took  root  and  grew.  E/Omove  those  conditions,  and 
though  the  germs  are  brought  there  at  intervals,  they 
will  not  develope  into  life.  Just  so  it  seems  to  be  with 
cholera.  The  poisonous  germ  is  in  the  air,  but  it  is 
innocuous,  does  not  grow  into  actual  disease  unless  certain 
local  conditions  are  satisfied.  Of  course,  once  begun  thus, 
it  is  propagated  by  contagion  to  the  stomach.  But  it 
could  not  have  begun  at  all  if  the  conditions  were  not 
ready  for  its  reception  ;  and  if  we  remove  these  conditions, 
it  will  not,  unless  we  are  shamefully  careless,  develope 
itself  at  all. 

But  this  is  the  very  thing  we  will  not  do ;  instead 
thereof,  we  keep  the  causes  of  the  development  of  disease 
on  hand,  ready  to  co-operate  with  any  atmospheric  poison 
there  may  exist,  and  then,  with  an  exquisite  unconscious 
irony,  we  pray  that  the  cholera  may  be  kept  far  from  our 
borders. 

I  have  said  that  that  sort  of  prayer,  while  we  do  not 
act  against  the  great  evils  I  have  mentioned,  is  nothing 
less  then  an  insult  to  God,  and  God  will  not,  nay,  He 
cannot,  jiear  our  prayer.  Prayer  of  that  kind  is  not  the 
slightest  good. 

Moreover,  it  would  be  a  positive  evil  if  God  were  to 
take  us  at  our  word ;  for  then  we  should  be  freed 
from  that  judgment  which  points  out  the  diseased  spots 


40  The  Lessons  of  the  Cholera, 

in  our  social  organization,  as  pain  points  out  the  spot 
in  our  bod}^  wliere  disease  is  settling.  Who  would  ask 
that  pain  should  not  come,  and  prefer  that  he  should 
have  no  warning  of  the  disease  which  is  about  to  Idll 
him  ?  And  yet  we  have  been  asking  God  to  leave  us 
in  io^norant  carelessness  and  without  warnino^  of  our 
national  diseases.  Better  far  to  ask  for  the  cholera  to 
come  (if  we  only  could  save  some  of  the  thousands  who 
must  be  sacrificed  to  teach  us  our  duty — a  dreadful 
thought,  which  should  make  us  easy-going  people 
shudder  and  tremble  when  we  think  of  the  reckoning 
God  will  require  at  our  hands  for  all  these  lives),  better 
far  to  ask  that  the  cholera  should  come,  than  that  we 
should  remain  as  we  are.  Better  far  to  have  the 
cholera,  if  it  produces  action  against  our  wrong-doing 
and  our  neglect,  than  not  to  have  it.  For  what 
is  it  which  has  roused  us  to  do  what  we  have  done, 
little  as  it  is  ?  What  is  it  that  has  been  the  cause  of  our 
eiforts  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  poor?  Why, 
God's  judgments — cholera,  typhus,  diphtheria,  which 
are  not  quite  content  with  feeding  on  the  wretched,  but 
come  and  knock  at  our  fine  houses,  and  wake  us  with 
death's  cry  to  our  duty.  By  the  lessons  which  every 
visitation  of  cholera  has  taught  us,  the  death-rate  has 
been  permanently  diminished  —  but  oh  !  by  how  much 
less  than  it  might — from  year  to  year.  And  now  it  has 
come  again.  It  has  not  been  kept  llir  from  our  borders. 
God  is  calling  us  to  awake  to  work,  and  warning  us 
how  little  we  have  done.  His  judgment  touches  our 
evils  in  the  clearest  manner.  We  cannot  be  blind 
unless   we   blind   ourselves   by    selfishness    and  want    of 


The  Lessons  of  the  Cholei^a,  41 

thought.  I  do  trust  not  a  year  will  pass  by  without 
some  effort  on  the  part  of  Government  to  call  the  nation 
to  the  only  repentance  worth  having — a  united  effort  to 
remedy  the  condition  of  the  poor.  If  not,  we  shall 
have  the  cholera  again,  and  we  shall  deserve  it,  and  all 
the  praj^ers  in  the  world  will  not  guard  our  shores 
against  it. 

One  word  more.  We  have  neglected  our  duties  as  a 
nation ;  do  not  let  us  neglect  them  as  individuals.  Let 
us  labour  to  spread  true  views  of  this  subject,  labour  to 
OA^ercome  ignorance  and  stupidity.  Let  us  give  largely 
to  help  the  exertions  of  overworked  physicians.  Let  us 
give  largely  to  succour  the  j)oor,  the  bereaved,  the 
weakened  convalescent.  Above  all,  let  us  do  all  in  our 
power  to  prevent  this  sanitary  excitement,  usually  so 
miserably  short-lived,  from  dying  out  when  the  danger 
has  passed  by.  So  shall  we,  at  least,  have  learnt  what  a 
judgment  of  God  means — learnt  something  of  the  blessed 
truth  hidden  in  that  strange  but  deep  utterance  of  the  old 
prophet — '  Shall  there  be  evil  in  a  city,  and  the  Lord  hath 
not  done  it  ? ' 


42  The  Naturalness  of 


[Dec.  1,  1867.] 

TRE  NATURALNESS  OF  GOD'S  JUDGMENTS. 

Luke  xiii.  2 — 4. 

Last  year,  during  the  prevalence  of  tlie  cliolera,  we  spoke 
of  it  from  this  place,  and  of  the  lessons  which  it  taught  us. 
We  then  laid  down  the  principle  that  all  the  so-called 
judgments  of  God  were  the  natural  results  of  violation  of 
laws,  and  as  such  always  unarbitrary. 

The  principle  is  a  common  one,  but  it  requires  to  be 
stated  and  restated  continually,  and  especially  so  from  the 
pulpit.  First,  because  it  is  exj)licitly  or  implicitly  denied 
by  a  large  number  of  religious  persons,  to  the  great  detri- 
ment, I  believe,  of  religion  ;  and  secondly,  because  in 
establishing  it  firmly  we  get  rid  of  nearly  all  that  sets 
scientific  men  in  opposition  to  religious  men. 

Now  the  principle  that  every  judgment  of  God  is  con- 
nected, in  the  way  of  ordinary  cause  and  efiect,  with  the 
sin  or  error  therein  condemned,  destroys  at  once  the 
notion  that  plague  or  famine  are  judgments  upon  us  for 
infidelity,  or  rationalism,  or  sabbath-breaking,  or  our 
private  sins,  for  there  is  plainly  no  natural  connection 
between  the  alleged  sin  and  the  alleged  punishment. 
For  example,  the  town  which  takes  due  sanitary  pre- 
cautions may  refuse  to  give  one  penny  to  missions,  but 
it  will  not  be  visited  by  a  virulent  outbreak  of  cholera. 


God's  y ttdgi7ients.  43 

The  town  whicli  takes  no  sanitary  precautions,  but  gives 
£10,000  a-year  to  missions,  will,  in  spite  of  its  Christian 
generosity,  become  a  victim  to  the  epidemic.  The  light- 
ning will  strike  the  ship  of  the  good  man  who  chooses 
to  sail  without  a  lightning-conductor,  it  will  spare  the 
ship  of  the  atheist  and  the  blasphemer  who  provides 
himself  with  the  protecting  rod.  The  cattle  plague 
will  not  touch  the  cattle  of  the  most  active  Roman 
Catholic  in  England  if  his  quarantine  is  exclusive 
enough,  while  it  will  destroy  all  the  cows  of  the  best 
Protestant  in  the  country  if  he  be  careless  of  their  iso- 
lation. "We  may  sin  as  much  as  we  j)lease  in  our  o-\vn 
persons,  but  we  shall  escape  cholera  as  much  as  we  shall 
escape  famine  if  we  discover  the  source  of  contagion  and 
guard  against  it. 

There  is,  then,  always  a  natural  connection  between  the 
sin  and  the  punishment,  and  the  punishment  points  out  its 
own  cause.  To  follow  the  o^uidino^  of  its  fino^er  is  to  dis- 
cover  the  evil,  and,  when  discovered,  to  rectify  it.  But 
we  assume  a  supernatural  cause  and  the  evil  remains 
hidden  from  us.  There  is  no  hope  of  success  till  we  act 
u]3on  the  principle  which  is  here  laid  down. 

It  is  my  intention  this  morning  to  show  the  truth  of 
this  principle  in  other  spheres  than  that  of  epidemic 
disease.  If  we  can  manifest  its  universality,  we  go  flir  to 
prove  its  truth.  Take  as  the  first  illustration  the  case  of 
the  Moral  Law. 

The  ten  commandments  appear  at  first  sight  to  be 
arbitrary  rules  of  conduct.  Why  should  we  not  kill  a 
man  when  he  has  injured  us  ?  Why  should  we  not 
steal  when  we  are  in  want  ?     Many  a  savage  community 


44  The  Naturalness  of 

has  argued  in  this  way,  and  we  do  not  want  for  iso- 
lated instances  of  the  same  feeling  in  civilized  societies. 
But  as  civilization  increased,  the  commands  of  the  De- 
calogue were  felt  to  be  right,  not  only  because  they  were 
re-echoed  by  an  inward  voice,  but  also  because  they  were 
proved  to  be  necessary  for  the  progress  of  humanity. 
They  were  commanded,  then,  not  only  because  of  their 
agreement  to  eternal  right,  but  also  because  of  their 
necessity.  Some  of  them  were  in  very  early  times  clearly 
seen  as  needful — the  sacredness  of  an  oath,  the  sacred- 
ness  of  human  life,  the  sacredness  of  property ;  on  the 
other  hand,  it  has  taken  centuries  to  show  that  polytheism 
is  a  destructive  element  to  national  greatness.  Others 
were  not  so  clearly  seen  to  be  just.  '  Thou  shalt  not 
covet '  seemed  to  make  a  great  deal  out  of  nothing ;  but 
experience  taught  men,  though  slowly,  that  inordinate 
desire  for  the  goods  of  another  was  the  most  fruitful 
source  of  violation  of  social  rights.  Again,  to  reconcile 
the  fourth  commandment  with  a  natural  feeling  of  right 
has  been  a  puzzle  to  many.  But  men  saw,  as  the  labour 
of  the  world  increased,  the  naturalness  of  a  day  of  rest  and 
its  necessity  for  human  nature.  It  was  seen  to  be  com- 
manded not  of  caprice  on  the  part  of  God^  but  because 
it  was  needful  for  humanity.  The  commandments  have 
force,  therefore,  not  because  they  are  commanded  by  a 
God  of  power,  but  because  they  are  either  needful  for,  or 
natural  to,  human  nature. 

Nor  is  the  judgment  which  follows  on  their  violation 
any  more  arbitrary  than  the  laws  themselves.  As  they 
have  their  root  in  our  nature  so  they  have  their  punish- 
ment  in   our    nature.      Yiolate    a   moral   law   and   our 


God' s  Judgments.  45 

constitution  protests  through  our  conscience.  Sorrow 
awakes,  remorse  follows,  and  remorse  is  felt  in  itself  to 
be  the  mark  of  separation  from  God.  The  punishment 
is  not  arbitrary,  but  natural.  Moreover,  each  particular 
violation  of  the  moral  law  has  its  own  proj^er  judgment. 
The  man  who  is  dishonest  in  one  branch  of  his  life  soon 
feels  dishonesty — not  impurity,  not  anything  else  but 
dishonesty — creep  through  his  whole  life  and  enter  into 
all  his  actions.  Impurity  has  its  own  punishment,  and 
that  is  increasing  corruption  of  heart.  Each  sin  has  its 
own  judgment  and  not  another's,  and  the  judgment  is  so 
naturally  linked  to  the  sin  that  it  points  out  unmis- 
takably what  the  particular  sin  is  which  is  punished. 
The  moral  pain  calls  attention  to  the  moral  disease. 
It  is  the  voice  of  Grod  saying  '  There,  in  that  thing  you 
are  wrong,  my  child ;  do  not  do  it  again,  do  the  very  op- 
posite.' 

Take,  again,  the  intellectual  part  of  man.  The  neces- 
sities for  intellectual  progress  are  attention,  perseverance, 
practice.  Refuse  to  submit  to  these  laws  and  you  are 
punished  by  loss  of  memor}^  or  inactivity  of  memory, 
by  failure  in  your  work  or  by  inability  to  think  and 
act  quickly  at  the  proper  moment.  The  intellectual 
punishments  follow  as  naturally  upon  violation  of  the 
laws  of  the  intellect  as  sickness  does  on  violation  of  the 
laws  of  health,  and  they  point  out  as  clearly  their  causes 
as  trembling  nerves  point  out  their  cause  in  the  indidg- 
ence  of  the  drunkard. 

Again,  take  what  may  be  caUed  national  laws.  These 
have  been,  as  it  were,  codified  by  the  Jewish  prophets. 
They  were  men  whose  holiness  brought  them  near  to  God 


46  The  Naticralness  of 

and  gave  them  insight  into  the  diseases  of  nations.  They 
saw  clearly  the  natural  result  of  these  diseases  and  they 
proclaimed  it  to  the  world.  They  looked  on  Samaria, 
and  saw  there  a  corrupt  aristocracy,  failing  patriotism, 
oppression  of  the  poor,  falsification  of  justice,  and  they 
said,  God  will  judge  this  city,  and  it  shall  be  overthrown 
by  Assyria.  Well,  was  that  an  arbitrary  judgment  ? 
It  was  of  God ;  but  given  a  powerful  neighbour,  and  a 
divided  people  in  which  the  real  fighting  and  working 
class  has  been  crushed,  enslaved,  and  unjustly  treated — 
and  an  enervated,  lazy^  pleasure-consumed  upper  class, 
and  what  is  the  natural  result  ?  Why,  that  very  thing 
which  the  prophets  called  God's  judgment.  God's  judg- 
ment was  the  natural  result  of  the  violation  of  the 
first  of  national  laws  —  even-handed  justice  to  all 
parties  in  the  State.  The  same  principle  is  true  in  a 
thousand  instances  in  history ;  the  national  judgments 
of  war,  revolution,  pestilence,  famine,  are  the  direct 
results  of  the  violation  by  nations  of  certain  plain 
laws  which  have  become  clear  by  experience.  Un- 
fortunately, men  took  them  to  mean  a  supernatural 
expression  of  God's  anger,  instead  of  looking  for  their 
natural  causes.  It  is  this  notion  of  God  not  being  a 
God  of  order  but  a  God  who  interferes  cajDriciously  with 
the  course  of  society,  which  has  made  the  advance  of 
the  world  so  slow  and  made  so  many  of  His  judgments 
useless.  For  these  judgments  come  to  teach  nations 
what  is  wrong  in  them,  and  the  judgments  must  come 
again  and  again  while  the  wrong  thing  is  there.  It  is 
slow  work  teaching  blind  men,  but  God  does  not  spare 
trouble,  and  the  laws  of  the  universe  cannot  be  bought 


God's  yudgments.  47 

off  by  prayer.  There  is  but  one  way  of  making  them 
kind,  and  that  is  by  getting  on  their  side.  We  find  them 
out  by  punishment,  as  a  child  finds  out  that  he  must  not 
touch  fire  by  being  burnt.  Look  at  slavery.  It  was 
not  plainly  forbidden,  but  no  nation  practised  it  with- 
out pajdng  dearly  for  it.  It  devoured,  like  a  slow 
disease,  national  prosperity  and  uprightness.  It  was 
not  so  deadly  to  the  earlier  nations  as  it  has  been  to 
the  Southern.  States,  but  then  ancient  slavery  was  not 
so  bad  as  American  slavery.  Ancient  slavery  had  no 
vast  breeding  system.  Its  oppression  was  more  cruel, 
but  it  was  not  'so  degrading,  so  systematic,  and  so 
unrelenting.'  The  slave  had  hope,  had  a  chance  of 
liberty,  could  hold  some  property,  could  receive  some 
education :  none  of  these  things  alleviated  slavery  in 
America.  Wherever  it  has  prevailed  in  modern  times 
it  has  corroded  family  life,  degraded  national  honour, 
and  reduced  flourishing  lands  to  wildernesses.  The 
Southern  States  would  not  learn  that  lesson  from  his- 
tory. They  were  judged  and  sentenced  by  God.  But 
their  defeat  was  the  natural  result  of  their  clinc^ino^ 
to  slaver}^  They  were  destitute  of  men  and  of  means 
to  fight  the  North.  They  had  no  middle  class,  no 
working-men  class,  they  had  no  manufactories,  scarcely 
any  of  the  natural  wealth  of  their  States  was  worked, 
vast  tracts  of  once  productive  land  were  exhausted. 
How  could  the  Southerners  succeed  when  all  the  vast 
resources  of  the  North,  supported  by  a  spiritual  idea, 
were  brought  to  bear  upon  them  ?  The  result  could  not 
be  doubted  for  a  moment.  It  was  God's  judgment,  but  it 
was  naturally  worked  out. 


48  The  Nahirabiess  of 

The  conclusion  I  draw  from  this  is,  that  all  national 
judgments  of  God  come  about  naturally. 

But  there  are  certain  judgments  mentioned  in  the 
Bible  which  seem  to  be  supernatural — the  destruction  of 
Sodom,  of  Sennacherib's  army,  of  the  Egyptians  in  the 
■Red  Sea,  the  plagues  sent  upon  the  Israelites,  and 
others.  These  are  the  difficidty.  How  shall  we  explain 
them  ?  or  shall  we  seek  to  explain  them  at  all  ?  First, 
we  must  remember  that  the  writers  had  not  the  know- 
ledge capable  of  explaining  them ;  that  nature  to  them 
was  an  insoluble  mystery.  They  naturally,  then,  re- 
ferred these  things  to  a  direct  action  of  God,  or  rather, 
because  they  were  out  of  the  common,  to  an  interference 
of  God  with  nature.  They  were  right  in  referring  them 
to  God,  but  it  is  possible  that,  owing  to  their  ignor- 
ance of  nature,  they  were  wrong  in  their  way  of  ex- 
plaining them.  If  they  had  seen  clearly,  they  would 
have  seen  sufficient  reason  for  them  in  ordinary  causes. 
We  accept  their  teaching  as  far  as  it  is  connected 
with  the  spiritual  world  ;  we  cannot  accept  it  as  far  as  it 
is  concerned  with  the  physical  world,  for  they  knew 
nothing  about  it. 

Secondly.  There  is  a  thought  which  goes  far,  if  it  be 
true,  to  explain  these  things — it  is  that  the  course  of  hu- 
man history  may  be  so  arranged,  that,  at  times,  healing 
or  destructive  natural  occurrences  coincide  with  crises  in 
the  history  of  a  nation.  For  example,  we  might  say 
that  the  sins  of  Sodom  had  reached  their  height  at  the 
very  period  when  the  elastic  forces  which  were  swelling 
beneath  the  plain  of  the  Dead  Sea  had  reached  their  last 
possible  expansion.     Or  that  the  army  of  Sennacherib  lay 


God's  ytidgmejits,  49 

encamped  in  the  way  of  the  pestilential  wind,  which 
would  have  blown  over  the  spot  whether  they  had  been 
there  or  not. 

Thirdly.  Whatever  difficulty  these  things  present  to 
us  in  the  Bible,  the  same  difficulty  occurs  in  what  is 
profanely  called  profane  history.  There  is  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  that  had  the  Carthaginians  been  Jews,  the 
earthquake  at  Thrasimene  Avould  have  been  represented 
as  a  miraculous  interference  of  God.  There  is  not 
the  slightest  doubt,  were  our  English  history  written 
by  a  Hebrew  of  the  time  of  the  kings,  that  the  ecKpse 
and  the  thunderstorm  at  Creci,  and  that  the  storms 
which  broke  the  Armada  on  the  rocks  of  England  and 
Scotland,  would  have  been  imputed  to  a  miraculous  in- 
terference by  God  with  the  course  of  nature.  We  do 
not  believe  these  to  have  been  miraculous ;  but  we  do 
believe  them,  with  the  Jew,  to  be  of  God.  But  we  must 
also  believe  that  they  are  contained  in  the  order  of  the 
world — not  disorderly  elements  arbitrarily  introduced. 
That  is,  while  believing  in  God  as  the  Director  and  Ruler 
of  human  affairs,  we  must  also  believe  in  Him  as  the 
Director  and  Buler  of  the  course  of  nature.  While  we 
believe  revelation,  we  must  not  disbelieve  God's  other 
revelation  in  science.  One  is  as  necessary  to  believe  in  as 
the  other. 

We  see  in  all  things  this  law  holding  good — that 
God's  judgments  are  natural.  In  these  apparently  super- 
natural judgments  it  would  also  hold  good  if  we  knew 
all;  and  our  attitude  towards  science,  therefore,  should 
not  be  an  attitude  of  attack,  or  even  an  attitude  of  de- 
fence, but  an  attitude  of  ready  assistance  and  inquiry. 


50  The  Naturalness  of 

We  should  endeavour,  as  religious  men,  not  to  attack 
scientific  men  because  they  endeavour  to  discover  truth, 
but  to  assist  them  with  all  our  power,  knowing  that 
the  more  we  do  in  this  way,  the  better  chance  there  is 
of  getting  at  the  truth  which  will  reconcile  the  teach- 
ing of  science  with  the  teaching  of  revelation.  At  pre- 
sent we  force  on  them  the  attitude  of  opposition,  we 
call  them  names,  we  ourselves  are  frightened  out  of  our 
senses  at  every  new  discovery — we  are  faithless  men. 
JS^ecessarily,  men  of  science  attack  us  with  contempt  for 
our  unbelief,  and  they  are  right ;  though  it  is  curious 
to  watch  how  Pharisaism  and  Priestcraft  are  creeping 
upon  them,  and  how  their  hierarchy  are  reproducing  in 
intolerance  and  ignorance  of  our  position  the  very  sins 
and  mistakes  of  which  they  accuse  us.  It  would  be  worth 
while  if  we  were  both  to  try  the  other  mode  of  action,  and 
see  if  truth  would  not  better  come  out  of  union  than  out 
of  disunion. 

There  is  another  class  of  occurrences  which  have  been 
called  judgments  of  God,  but  to  which  the  term  judgment 
is  inapplicable.  The  circumstance  mentioned  in  the  text 
is  an  example  of  these,  and  the  violent  destruction  of 
human  life  by  the  late  hurricane  of  Tortola  is  another  of 
the  same  type.  About  the  latter,  I  wish,  in  conclusion, 
to  say  a  few  words. 

There  are  even  now  some  who  say  that  the  sufferers 
under  these  blows  of  nature  suffer  because  they  are  under 
the  special  wrath  of  God. 

What  does  Christ  say  to  that?  He  bluntly  contra- 
dicts it !  'I  tell  you  nay ' — it  is  not  so.  There  are  not 
a  few  who  still  blindly  think  that  suffering  proves  God's 


God's  yudgments.  5 1 

anger.  Has  tlie  Cross  taught  us  notliing  better  than 
that,  revealed  to  us  no  hidden  secret  ? — not  the  explana- 
tion given  by  a  fierce  theology,  that  there  we  see  God's 
necessary  anger  expended  on  a  surety,  but  the  healing 
truth  that  there  God's  Love  died  for  the  sake  of  man, 
and  that  the  self-sacrifice  did  not  expiate  wrath,  but 
manifest  eternal  Life — was  necessarily  the  salvation  of 
man  from  death.  The  instant  we  realize  this  our  view 
of  sufiering  is  changed.  We  see  it  always,  not  as  the 
misery-making,  but  as  the  redemptive  power  in  the 
world.  There  is  no  pain,  mental  or  physical,  which  is 
not  a  part  of  God's  continual  self-sacrifice  in  us,  and 
which,  were  we  united  to  life  and  not  to  death,  we  should 
not  see  as  joy.  Who  regrets  that  the  martyrs  perished 
so  cruelly  ?  Not  they  themselves,  not  the  Church  whose 
foundations  they  cemented  with  their  blood  ?  Sympa- 
thy we  can  give,  but  regret  ?  To  regret  their  death  is 
to  dishonour  them.  Who  can  say  that  the  death  and 
pain  of  thousands  in  America  for  a  great  cause  is  matter 
of  indignant  sorrow  ?  Thej^  died — half  a  million  of 
them — to  establish  a  principle,  and  so  to  redeem  from 
curse  and  degradation,  for  all  the  future,  millions  of 
their  countrymen ;  and  they  suffered  devotedl}^,  and  died 
well.  And  those  young  hearts  in  Italy  who  fell  on  the 
vine-slopes  of  Montana,  fighting  to  the  last,  were  they 
fools  or  redeemers  ?  Redeemers,  if  the  Cross  be  true. 
Every  nian  who  dies  for  Italy  adds  to  Italy  a  new  ele- 
ment of  salvation,  and  makes  it  more  impossible  that  she 
should  much  longer  exist  either  as  the  slave  of  tyrants 
or  the  dupe  of  kings.  It  is  an  eternal  law — if  you  wish 
to  save  a  thing  die  for  it ;  if  you  wish  to  redeem  a  man. 


5  2  The  Nattiralness  of 

suffer  for  him.  And  wlieii  God  lets  men  suffer  and  gives 
them  to  pain  and  death,  it  is  not  the  worst  or  the  guilti- 
est but  the  best  and  the  purest^  whom  He  often  chooses 
for  His  work,  for  they  will  do  it  best.  Men  wring  their 
hands,  and  weep  and  wonder ;  but  the  sufferers  them- 
selves accept  the  pain  in  the  joy  of  doing  redemptive 
work,  and  pass  out  of  the  region  of  complaint  into  that  of 
the  nobler  spirit  which  rejoices  that  it  is  counted  worthy 
to  die  for  men. 

But,  say  others,  Grod  is  cruel  to  permit  such  loss. 
Three  thousand  souls  have  perished  in  this  hurricane.  Is 
this  your  God  of  love  ? 

But  look  at  the  history  of  the  hurricane.  A  mass  of 
heated  air  ascends  along  a  line  of  heated  water.  Two 
currents  dash  in  right  and  left  to  fill  the  space  ;  they 
clash,  and  a  whirlwind,  rotating  on  a  vast  scale,  sweeps 
along  the  line.  It  is  the  only  way  in  which  the  equi- 
librium of  the  air  can  be  restored.  Those  who  object  to 
this  arrangement  will  perhaps  prefer  that  the  air  should 
be  left  quiet,  in  order  to  protect  their  notion  of  a  God  of 
love  !  Well,  what  is  the  result  ?  Instead  of  3,000  by  a 
hurricane,  30,000  perish  by  a  pestilence. 

*  But  why  restore  it  so  violently  ?  Could  not  God 
arrange  to  have  a  uniform  climate  over  all  the  earth  ? ' 
^ye  are  spiritually  puzzled,  and,  to  arrange  our  doubts, 
God  must  make  another  world  !  We  know  not  what 
we  ask.  A  uniform  climate  over  all  the  earth  means 
simply  the  death  of  all  living  beings.  It  is  the  tropic 
heat  and  the  polar  cold  which  cause  the  currents  of 
the  ocean  and  the  air  and  keep  them  fresh  and  pure. 
A  stagnant  atmosphere,  a  rotting  sea,  that  is  what  we 


God's  yudg7ne7its.  53 

ask  for.  It  is  well  God  does  not  take  us  at  our  word. 
"When  we-  wisli  the  hurricane  away,  we  wish  away  the 
tropic  heats  in  the  West  Indies  and  along  the  whole 
equator.  What  do  we  do  then  ?  We  wish  away  the 
Gulf  Stream  and  annihilate  England.  How  long  would 
our  national  greatness  last  if  we  had  here  the  climate  of 
Labrador? 

More  than  half  of  the  solemn  folly  which  is  talked 
about  a  God  of  love  not  permitting  these  phj^sical  calami- 
ties is  due  to  pure  ignorance — is  due  to  sceptical  persons 
never  reading  God's  revealed  book  of  nature.  A  mere 
smattering  of  meteorology  would  answer  all  spiritual 
doubts,  of  this  kind,  of  God's  tenderness. 

Because  a  few  perish,  is  God  to  throw  the  wholo 
world  into  confusion?  The  few  must  be  sometimes 
sacrificed  to  the  many.  But  they  are  not  sacrificed 
without  due  warning.  In  this  case  God  tells  us  plainly 
in  His  book  of  nature,  that  He  wants  to  keep  His  air 
and  His  seas  fresh  and  clean  for  his  children  to  breathe 
and  sail  upon.  The  West  Indies  is  the  place  where  this 
work  is  done  for  the  North  Atlantic  and  its  borders, 
and  unless  the  whole  constitution  of  the  world  be  en- 
tirely changed,  that  work  must  be  done  by  tornadoes. 
God  has  made  that  plain  to  us  ;  and  to  all  sailing  and 
living  about  warm  currents  like  the  Gulf  Stream  it  is 
as  if  God  said,  *  Expect  my  hurricanes;  they  must 
come.  You  will  have  to  face  danger  and  death,  and 
it  is  my  law  that  j^ou  should  face  it  everywhere  in 
spiritual  as  well  as  physical  life  ;  and  to  call  Me 
unloving  because  I  impose  this  on  you,  is  to  mistake 
the   true    ideal   of  your   humanity.      I   mean   to   make 


54  ^^^^  Naturalness  of 

you  active  men,  not  slothful  dreamers.  I  will  not 
make  the  world  too  easy  for  my  children.  I  want 
veteran  men,  not  untried  soldiers ;  men  of  endurance, 
foresight,  strength  and  skill  for  my  work,  and  I  set 
before  you  the  battle.  You  must  face  manfully  those 
forces  which  you  call  destructive,  but  which  are  in  reality 
reparative.  In  the  struggle,  all  that  belongs  to  j^our 
intellect — invention,  activity,  imagination,  forethought, 
combination — will  be  enkindled  and  developed  ;  and  all 
the  nobler  qualities  of  the  spirit — love  to  Me  and  man, 
faith  in  Me  and  man,  sympathy  with  the  race,  tender 
guardianship,  the  purity  of  life  which  is  born  of  activity 
of  charity — will  enter  into  you  and  mould  you  into  my 
likeness.' 

Brethren,  we  cannot  complain  of  the  destructive 
forces  of  nature.  We  should  have  been  still  savages 
had  we  not  to  contend  against  them.  But  oh  !  we 
might  bitterly  complain  of  the  ruin  wrought  by  them 
if  the  souls  who  perish  in  the  contest  died  for  ever- 
more. 

What  happened  when  the  *  Rhone,'  in  mid-day  mid- 
night, went  down  with  all  its  souls  on  board  ?  Was  it 
only  the  descent  of  a  few  bodies  of  men  and  women 
into  the  silence  of  an  ocean  death,  or  not  rather  the 
ascension  of  a  number  of  emancipated  spirits  into  life  ? 
When  the  hungry  sea  had  swallowed  all,  and  the  loud 
waves  rolled  onwards  unconcerned,  where  were  the 
dead  ?  We  know  not  where  ;  but  this  we  do  believe, 
they  were  better  off  than  they  had  been  alive — the  good 
in  that  they  had  entered  into  their  rest,  the  evil  in  that 
God  had  taken  in  hand  more  sharply  to  consume  their 


God's  Jtcdg'fnents.  55 

evil.  For  He  will  not  let  us  go,  evil  or  good,  till  He 
has  brought  us  all  to  His  perfection.  It  matters  little 
whether  we  die  by  hurricane  on  the  sleepless  sea,  or 
quietly  by  disease  in  the  sleeping  cit}^ ;  the  result  is  the 
same — we  go  to  a  Father  who  is  educating  us,  we  fall 
into  the  hands  of  Eternal  Justice. 


^6  The  Twenty-third  Psahn, 


[March  10,  1867.] 

THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM. 

'  Psalm  xxiii.  1 — 3. 

The  great  characteristic  of  the  Psalms  of  David  is  a 
swelling  rush  of  overwhelming  joy,  or  grief,  or  triumph, 
on  which  he  is  borne  along  as  upon  a  torrent  of  feeling. 
In  almost  every  psalm  he  seems  to  speak  after  long  re- 
pression, to  break  suddenly  into  spontaneous  song. 

This  psalm  is  almost  the  only  instance  in  which  soft- 
ness and  sweetness  are  pre-eminent,  in  which  we  find 
that  musical,  river-like  gentleness  of  diction  and  thought 
which  belongs  to  some  of  the  other  psalmists.  These 
qualities,  however,  exist  in  perfection  in  this  shepherd 
song. 

Even  in  the  garb  of  another  language  it  seems  to  lose 
nothing  but  its  rhythm.  The  shepherd,  the  confiding 
sheep,  the  green  pastures,  the  waters  of  quietness,  the 
paths  of  straightness,  suggest  a  restfulness  of  peace  in 
outward  scenery  which  is  perfectly  attuned  to  the 
thoughts  with  which  it  is  connected  and  of  which  it  is 
the  symbol.  We  cannot  read  the  first  verses,  steeped  as 
they  are  in  the  depths  of  patient  trust,  without  an  inde- 
finite sensation  of  blissful  rest. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  psalm,  there  breaks  in  a 
difierent   picture.     We   see   rising   before  us  the   rocky 


The  Twenty-third  Psahn.  52 

sides  of  a  gloomy  valley  slirouded  in  the  horror  of  death. 
The  contrast  of  this  scenery  throws  out  into  fuller  relief 
the  tenderness  of  the  pastures  and  the  sweetness  of  the 
waters,  and  while  it  deepens  our  conception  of  the  faith 
which  would  follow  the  shepherd  as  fearlessly  in  darkness 
as  in  sunshine,  adds  force  to  the  triumphant  joy  with 
which  the  psalm  concludes. 

A  poem  so  finished  we  might  impute  to  laborious  art, 
but  this  was  not  the  genesis  of  the  psalm.  It  is  a  work 
of  genius  ;  it  sprang  forth  almost  unconsciously  out  of  the 
depths  of  a  child-like  heart.  David  sang  it  because  he 
could  not  help  it.  His  feelings  flowed  to  his  lips  in  song' 
with  the  same  spontaneous  gush  as  the  waters  of  a  moun- 
tain spring. 

Now  add  to  that  power  of  genius  a  heart  full  of 
the  sense  of  God's  presence,  deeply  loving  God  as  the 
kingly  promoter  of  good  and  the  kingly  destroyer  of 
evil,  and  we  approach,  at  least,  to  the  true  idea  of 
scriptural  inspiration  as  far  as  the  Psalms  are  con- 
cerned. 

Before  we  explain  the  psalm,  it  is  well,  if  possible, 
to  ascertain  the  time  at  which  it  was  written.  "\Ye 
have  supposed  it  to  be  one  of  David's  Psalms.  The 
great  German  critic  denies  this  for  two  reasons :  first, 
on  account  of  its  softness  and  sweetness,  so  difierent 
from  the  striking  and  overmastering  force  of  Da^id^s 
style ;  and  secondly,  on  account  of  the  reference  to  the 
Temple  in  the  last  verse.  But  these  reasons  do  not 
seem  to  be  sufficient  to  den}'-  the  old  tradition  of  its 
authorship.  The  house  of  the  Lord  may  mean  the 
tabernacle,   and  the  tender  quality  of  the  psalm   comes 


5  8  The  Twenty-third  Psalm. 

naturally  out  of  tlie  time  at  which.  I  shall  suppose  it  to  be 
written. 

Others  refer  its  composition — and  the  idea  lies  upon  the 
surface — to  the  time  when  David  lived  the  life  of  a  shep- 
herd. The  extreme  simplicity  of  the  language  would  also 
seem  to  carry  us  back  to  the  early  period  of  his  life.  But 
the  religious  depth  and  the  whole  drift  of  the  psalm  tend 
to  make  this  view  untenable.  Again,  the  whole  senti- 
ment and  scenery  of  the  poem  seem  to  prove^,  by  accumu 
lative  evidence,  that  it  was  written  at  the  time  when  the 
forty-second  Psalm  was  written,  when  David  had  taken 
refuge  from  Absalom  among  the  wide  uplands  which  lie 
around  the  city  of  Mahanaim. 

This  is  the  view  we  shall  endeavour  to  develope. 

Meantime  one  critical  remark  will  lead  us  to  the  spirit- 
ual exposition  of  the  psalm.  It  is  demanded  of  a  lyric 
poem  that  it  should  be  a  united  whole.  Every  part 
must  have  an  influence  on  the  whole  impression,  and  be 
itself  bound  to  every  other  part.  There  may  be  marked 
transitions  of  thought,  abrupt  changes  in  the  scenery, 
as  in  this  psalm ;  but  overmastering  these  separate  im- 
pressions, there  must  remain  at  the  end  of  a  perusal 
a  single  great  impression.  Now  we  find  this  poem 
impregnated  with  one  feeling,  the  feeling  of  trust  in  God. 
This  enters  into  all  the  images  and  their  ideas.  This  it 
is  which  harmonizes  all  its  contrasts,  mellows  all  its 
changes,  and  unites  into  one  whole  the  quiet  contem- 
plation of  the  first  verses,  the  gloom  of  the  fourth,  the 
triumph  of  the  fifth,  and  the  combined  retrospect  and 
prophecy  of  the  last ;  David's  spirit  of  trust  in  God  per- 
vades the  whole. 


The  Twenty -third  Psahn,  59 

The  illustration  of  this  trust  is  taken  from  pastoral  life. 
The  faithful  care  of  the  Oriental  shepherd  and  the  trust- 
fulness of  the  sheep,  furnish  a  symbol  to  David  of  the 
mutual  relations  between  himself  and  God.  On  this 
account  the  psalm  has  been  referred  to  his  shepherd  life. 
But  let  ns  see  if  these  images  were  not  suggested  to  him 
in  the  country  over  the  Jordan.  He  had  crossed  the  river 
and  ascended  the  slopes  till  he  came  to  Mahanaim.  All 
round  about  the  city  lay  the  great  pastoral  land  of 
Palestine.  Wide -rolling  downs,  cut  by  deep  gorges 
where  Jabbok  and  his  brethren  had  cleft  their  paths  to 
the  Jordan  ;  great  patches  of  forest  where  the  vast  herds 
of  cattle  wandered  at  will,  made  it  a  country  of  '  enor- 
mous parks.' 

With  Moab,  Bashan,  and  Reuben,  it  was  the  great 
sheep-farm  of  the  East.  And  it  requires  no  imagination 
to  picture  David  looking  forth  in  melancholy  thought 
from  the  terraced  wall  of  Mahanaim  upon  the  uplands, 
and  seeing,  as  the  traveller  may  see  now,  the  shepherd 
bringing  the  flocks  at  noontide  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  to  the  greenest  and  tenderest  pasture,  and,  as  even- 
ing fell,  leading  them  down  to  the  springs  of  quiet  waters 
to  slake  their  thirst. 

Picture  to  j^ourself  the  mournful  king  watching  that 
landscape  in  his  solitude,  and  then,  as  darkness  suddenly 
fell,  and  the  outward  images  became  ideas  in  the  brain, 
YOU  will  feel  how  natural  it  was  that  this  psalm  should 
well  upwards  from  his  heart.  We  can  almost  hear  the 
quick,  spontaneous  words  which  rushed  to  his  lips  as  he 
retired  to  rest — *  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not 
want ' 


6o  The  Twe7i.ty-thi7'd  Psalm. 

Here,  in  this  first  verse,  we  find  two  of  tlie  activities 
of  faith.  Fird,  it  appropriates  Grod.  'The  Lord  is  my 
shepherd.' 

There  is  a  lifeless  faith  which  believes  in  God  as  an 
Onmipotent  Being,  far  away  in  the  heavens,  or  as  Eternal 
law,  or  as  a  metaphysical  abstraction  of  our  own  ideas — 
a  belief  in  a  God  external  to  ns.  This  is  belief  in  the 
worst  and  grossest  idol  which  the  heart  of  man  has  ever 
worshipped.  From  it  no  noble  act,  no  spiritual  power 
has  ever  flowed. 

There  is  a  living  faith  by  which  a  man  realizes  God 
as  the  King  of  his  innermost  heart,  as  the  Presence  and 
Spirit  who  moves  in  all  his  action  and  all  his  suffering, 
as  the  Father,  loving,  good,  and  just,  who  is  educating 
him  hour  by  hour,  day  by  day,  into  perfection.  This  is 
the  ennobling  faith  of  life.  It  is  the  origin  of  the  highest 
aspiration,  self-devotion,  and  strength.  Out  of  it  have 
arisen  the  noblest  human  lives.  It  is  the  power  of  appro- 
priating God.  It  was  the  faith  of  David — ^My  shep- 
herd.' 

The  second  way  in  which  faith  displays  itself  in  these 
verses  is  as  the  power  of  seeing  the  invisible  in  the 
visible.  For  other  men,  the  scenery  and  life  which 
moved  round  Mahanaim  was  merely  scenery  and  life 
and  no  more ;  to  David,  the  whole  was  a  parable  of 
which  God  was  the  interpretation.  The  waving  tere- 
binths, the  blowing  grass,  the  tender  curving  of  the 
downs,  the  deep  shadows,  the  musical  waters,  and  the 
wandering  sheep,  spoke  to  him  in  a  spiritual  language 
and  made  him  partaker  of  the  deeper  secret.  The  veil 
of  the   phacnomenal   was   lifted   up    and   he   beheld  the 


The  Twenty-third  Psalm,  6 1 

spiritual.  God  is  here — my  God ;  it  is  He  who  u  all  that 
I  behold.  This  is  to  see  what  men  have  called  the  *  open 
secret.' 

Now  David  did  not  think  this  out.  It  can  never  be 
thought ;  it  must  be  felt,  as  he  felt  it,  in  a  high  poetical 
moment  of  inspiration.  But  it  is  the  only  truth  worth 
grasping  with  our  most  passionate  strength  in  our  relation 
to  the  world  of  Nature. 

It  was  seized  by  David;  his  activity  of  faith  beheld 
beneath  the  seen,  the  glory  of  the  unseen. 

And,  brethren,  to  go  through  this  world  of  God's, 
seeing  beneath  the  material  the  realities  of  the  im- 
material, gaining  confidence  in  the  immortal  from  the 
vision  of  the  mortal,  beholding  in  the  manifold  life  of 
Nature  revelations  of  the  manifold  life  of  God — no  flow- 
ing mountain  curve,  no  sound  of  wood  or  water,  no  deK- 
cately  tinted  cloud,  no  march  of  stars  nor  order  of  the 
seasons,  which  does  not  speak  to  us  of  Him — no  horror  of 
gloom  and  ruin  of  earthquake,  no  death,  no  apparently 
merciless  destruction,  which  does  not  shake  us  to  our 
centre  with  a  passionate  desire  to  prove  Him  right — this 
is  to  make  life  beautiful  and  awful,  dramatic,  awake,  alive, 
a  thing  of  high  passion  and  of  deep  communion  with  the 
Greatest  Mind. 

To  live  with  the  invisible,  and  in  it,  to  make  our  dull 
common  life,  and  the  pictorial  show  which  doth  encompass 
it,  the  image  of  the  character  of  God,  the  picture  of  His 
work  in  us  and  on  the  world,  that  was  David's  power  in 
this  hour  of  sorrow,  and  is  for  ever  one  of  the  noblest 
exercises  of  Christian  faith. 


62  The  Twenty-third  Psalm, 

Again,  we  find  in  this  psalm,  tlie  cliild-like  simplicity  of 
faith. 

Some,  as  I  have  said,  have  argued,  from  the  simplicity 
of  the  diction,  that  it  was  written  in  David's  youth.  But 
its  simplicity  may  be  otherwise  accounted  for.  David 
was,  when  he  fled  from  Absalom,  a  partaker  of  very  bitter 
sorrow. 

Now  one  of  the  most  remarkable  effects  of  intense 
grief  is  that  it  brings  back  to  us  the  simplicity  of  child- 
hood. We  do  not  argue  about  our  sorrow  when  it  is 
an  overwhelming  sorrow.  We  are  blinded,  speechless, 
conscious  of  a  deep  darkness  and  of  nothing  more.  The 
feelings,  then,  are  not  manifold,  not  influenced  by  our 
subtle  peculiarities  of  temperament,  but  simple.  We 
hear,  not  the  peculiar  minor  of  our  own  character,  but 
the  great  common  chords  of  the  universal  sorrow  of 
humanity.  By  a  sorrow  such  as  this,  David  had  been 
made  in  feeling  a  child  again.  So  it  happened  that  the 
expression  of  his  grief  was  soft  and  sweet  rather  than 
sublime.  Quiet,  deep  words,  freed  from  all  self- con- 
sciousness, all  metaphysical  thought,  all  delicate  shades 
of  sadness,  tell  us  here  of  his  profound  and  simple  pain.  I 
have  been  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  yet 
the  Lord  is  my  shepherd.  That  was  all — child- like  sorrow, 
child-like  trust. 

How  often,  oh  !  how  often,  do  we  desire  that  in  pain. 
When  our  sorrow  has  swept  over  us  like  a  torrent  and 
left  the  plains  of  the  heart  like  the  wilderness  of  stones 
and  desolation  which  an  Alpine  inundation  leaves  behind 
it,  who  has  not  felt  the  intensity  of  desire  to  get  rid  of 
the  imaginative  thought  which  wearies  life,  the  imagin- 


The  Twenty-third  Psalm,  62^ 

ative  feeling  so  torturing  to  the  heart,  the  vividness  of 
memories  which  will  invade  the  soul,  the  reiterated  self- 
consciousness  and  the  mysteries  of  doubt  which,  suggested 
by  grief,  come  crowding  in  upon  the  intellect — and  to 
return  to  the  simple  passion  of  sorrow  which  belongs  to 
the  heart  of  a  child  ? 

And  if  our  sorrow  be  deep  enough  and  be  not  connected 
with  mental  doubt,  this  is  what  takes  place.  Our  grief 
becomes  almost  infantine  in  feeling.  We  only  feel,  '  I  am 
miserable,'  and  no  more.  Sometimes  with  that  there 
comes  *  the  passion  of  death,^  but  oftener  (for  the  heart, 
even  in  its  agony,  is  elastic),  there  is  the  craving,  intensely 
strong,  of  throwing  our  whole  being,  with  all  its  unbear- 
able burden,  upon  another  heart.  The  usual  haughty 
isolation,  the  customary  reserve,  is  lost  in  the  longing  for 
s}Tnpathy.  Nature  conquers  conventionality  ;  we  become 
the  natural  child  again. 

But  the  craving  does  not  die  ;  it  increases  till  we  find 
its  deeper  meaning.  It  dimly  points  to  a  diviner  Friend 
than  any  one  on  earth.  It  can  only  find  its  full  satisfaction 
in  the  realized  sympathy  of  God  our  Father.  '  The  Lord 
is  my  shepherd.* 

Brethren,  in  the  eternal  love  of  God  in  Christ  find 
your  refuge  from  hopelessness.  Let  the  child-like  depth 
of  sorrow  bring  about  the  child-like  depth  of  trust  in 
Him.  Your  pain  is  His.  He  is  sacrificing  Himself  for 
the  world'  in  your  agony.  Kealize  that  your  sorrow  is  His 
love  working  in  you  for  the  blessing  of  the  race.  Throw 
j^ourself  into  that  thought,  and  trust  in  Him.  And 
there  will  be  with  you  then  the  peace  which  believes, 
the  peace  which  makes  you   content  to   sacrifice   your- 


64  The  Twenty-third  Psalm. 

self  as  tlie  instrument  of  love,  the  peace  of  being  loved 
and  of  loving.  You  shall  lie  down  in  tender  pastures 
of  Grod's  calm,  and  be  led  beside  the  quietness  of  His 
waters  of  refreshment. 

AVe  can  account  still  further  for  the  simplicity  of  this 
psalm,  because  David  had  really  returned,  through  the 
power  of  association,  to  his  childhood.  As  he  looked 
forth  upon  the  grassy  country  covered  with  the  feeding 
sheep  and  saw  them  led  by  the  shepherd,  his  thoughts 
were  swept  back  to  Bethlehem  and  he  breathed  the 
atmosphere  of  his  childhood.  He  became  a  youth  again. 
In  his  exile,  once  more  he  saw,  '  flashing  upon  his  inward 
eye,'  the  wild  ridges  eastward  of  Bethlehem,  where  he 
had  shepherded  his  flocks  upon  the  pastures  over  which 
centuries  afterwards  a  greater  than  David  was  sung  by 
the  heavenly  host.  .^  Again  he  saw  himself  leading  his 
sheep  with  stafi"  and  rod  through  the  gloomy  gorges  of 
the  hills  to  shelter  them  at  noon  and  water  them  at  even  : 
and  now,  with  the  faith  of  the  man  and  child  combined, 
he  represented  to  himself  in  simple  words  a  like  relation 
between  himself  and  God.  '  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd. 
My  care  for  my  sheep  of  old  is  a  faint  image  of  His  care 
for  me.' 

There  is  something  wonderfully  touching  in  this 
simple  faith  in  God.  What  would  not  some  of  us  give 
if  we  could  free  ourselves  from  our  passionate  question- 
ings of  the  love  of  God,  from  the  torture  of  feeling  that 
this  world  is  an  accursed  place,  where  God  cannot  be, 
and  gain  this  unquestioning  tenderness  of  quiet  faith? 
It  is  so  hard  a  battle  against  doubt  and  fear  and  coldness 
of  heart,  harder  the  more  we  know  and  the  more  finely 


The  Twenty-third  Psalm,  t>5 

we  feel,  that  to  win  that  faith  seems  almost  the  most 
beautiful  possession  possible  to  man.  And  yet  David 
was  not  one  of  those  apathetic  characters  to  whom  we 
usually  attribute  such  a  faith.  He  had  passed  through 
nearly  every  phase  of  life  and  been  great  in  each — had 
been  shepherd,  hunter,  warrior,  musician,  poet,  the  people's 
idol,  the  exile,  the  freebooter^  the  chivalrous  companion, 
the  general,  the  king.  He  had  felt  nearly  every  phase 
of  feeling  and  that  with  peculiar  depth,  pure  love  and 
impure,  patriotism,  friendship,  sorrow  in  all  its  forms,  joy 
and  triumph  in  varied  circumstance  :  almost  every  feeling 
in  relation  to  God,  as  Lord  of  Nature,  Director  of  life, 
ideal  Perfection  to  be  thirsted  after,  the  Punisher  and 
For  giver  of  sin. 

This  was  no  dull  unimpassioned  spirit,  and  yet  here 
we  find  the  manj^- sided,  deep-souled  man  speaking  like 
the  simplest  child.  It  is  a  deep,  deep  lesson.  What  it 
means  cannot  be  put  in  words.  Those  who  can  read  it 
true  will  feel  it  better  for  the  silence. 

But  when  the  impulse  derived  from  association  was 
over  and  David  began  to  realize  that  he  was  no  longer 
the  youth  of  Bethlehem,  still  he  looked  back  upon  his 
life  with  the  same  thought  in  his  mind  and  felt  that 
through  all  Jehovah  had  been  his  Shepherd.  Out  of  a 
thousand  dangers  rescued^  out  of  deep  guilt  restored,  in 
times  which  needed  wary  walking  directed,  there  had 
been  ever  with  him  an  invisible  Guide  and  Friend. 
Thinking  on  this,  David's  faith  would  take  to  itself  ad- 
ditional force.  For  the  strength  of  faith  is  the  product 
of  experience.  In  the  past  I  see  now  He  has  been  with 
me,  therefore  in  the  present  He  will  still  be  true. 


66  The  Twenty-third  Psalm, 

Therefore,  Christian  men,  when  the  gloom  round  your 
path  is  deep  and  incomprehensible,  then  it  is  wise  some- 
times to  look  back;  not  to  add  to  your  darkness  by 
regret  for  vanished  joy,  but  to  see  what  God  has  done 
for  you.  We  cannot  understand  any  portion  of  our  life 
when  we  are  involved  in  it.  We  see  it  too  closely  and 
too  passionately.  Much,  as  long  as  we  are  here,  we 
shall  never  comprehend,  but  some  things  we  may.  Look 
back  on  yourself  many  years  ago,  hovering  on  the  brink 
of  some  terrible  temptation,  and  you  will  see  now,  in 
some  slight  occurrence  which  scarcely  struck  you  then, 
the  hand  of  God  which  drew  you  back  from  the  precipice. 
Look  back  upon  yourself  when  you  were  enslaved  by 
some  guilty  passion,  or  losing  your  true  life  in  fashion 
or  in  gain,  and  now,  in  some  dim  impulse  which  came, 
you  know  not  how,  you  will  recognize  the  voice  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  which  drove  you  forth  from  ruin.  Look 
back  upon  yourself  when  your  grief  was  deep  and  your 
trial  too  bitter  for  your  heart,  and  you  were  tempted  to 
drown  memory  in  excitement  or  to  harden  your  heart  to 
rock  that  you  might  feel  no  more,  and  you  will  now  see 
how  some  fresh  interest,  or  some  friend,  or  some  new 
sympathy,  reconciled  you  to  life  and  made  your  heart  beat 
with  added  tenderness.  You  will  now  feel  that  these 
were  the  messengers  of  an  ever-watchful  God,  and  faith 
in  God  in  the  gloomy  present  will  be  born,  like  David's, 
afresh  from  the  knowledge  of  His  presence  with  you  in 
past  experience.  The  Lord  has  been  my  Shepherd,  there- 
fore Hd  is  my  Shepherd. 

Then  it  is  that  we  are  enabled  through  this  retrospect- 
ive faith  to  see,  even  in  the  darkness  of  the  present,  not 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  67 

all,  but  something  of  God's  love.  David  learnt  three 
things.  He  learnt  that  the  intervals  of  rest  in  trial 
are  the  kindness  of  God.  There  is  nothing  without  its 
compensation  in  this  world.  Some  are  happy  all  their 
lives.  Set  over  against  that,  that  they  never  know  what 
exquisite,  passionate  joy  may  be.  Others  are,  like  David, 
tried  continually  ;  but  in  the  intervals  of  trial,  how  deep 
is  the  relief  and  how  intense  the  joy !  I^o  one  who  has 
not  suffered  great  physical  pain  can  know  the  indescrib- 
able repose  of  freedom  from  it.  ^  No  one  who  has  not 
endured  a  long  illness  can  understand  the  fine  and  deli- 
cate delight  which  is  given  to  a  slow  convalescence. 
Never  can  a  man  forget  what  then  he  felt  and  saw  and 
heard.  The  voice  of  one  he  loved,  the  sympathy  of  a 
friend,  the  care  of  a  mother,  brought  with  them  then  a 
marvellous  thrill  and  quivering  of  heart  unknown  before. 
How  every  sense  was  quickened,  and  with  what  a  subtle 
rapture  did  floating  cloud  and  flowing  water,  the  whis- 
pering talk  of  the  trees,  the  fresh  breath  of  the  pure  air, 
allure  the  ear  and  charm  the  eye,  and  drop  upon  the 
lieart  the  dew  of  a  second  life. 

So  it  is  in  trial  when  God  gives  an  interval  of  rest. 
'  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures.  He  leadeth 
me  beside  the  still  waters.'  These  are  the  simple  expres- 
sions of  the  serene  joy  of  David  in  the  moment  when  God 
had  lifted  him  above  his  sorrow  into  the  region  of  pure 
trust.  It  is  thus  that  God  concentrates  joy  for  the  weary 
of  heart.  That  which  is  spread  for  the  happy  over  a 
large  surface  is  poured  by  God  in  its  quintessence  into  a 
day  or  an  hour  for  the  suffering, 

F  2 


68  The  Twenty-third  Psalm. 

But  it  is  not  only  keen  joy  wliicli  God  gives  ns  in 
trial,  but  also  strength.  '  He  restoretli  my  soul ; '  i.e. 
He  gives  me  back  my  vitality,  my  force  of  life.  He  does 
not  remove  at  once  our  suffering — that  would  ruin  our 
character ;  He  does  not  only  give  us  comfort  —  that 
would  weaken  character.  He  gives  us  power ;  for  the 
true  comforter  is  the  strengthener  in  pain,  not  the  re- 
mover of  pain. 

So  we  are  restored  through  trial  to  the  force  of  charac- 
ter which  we  had  lost  in  ease ;  we  are  fitted  for  our  toil 
on  earth  and  in  heaven  as  the  mountain  pine  is  fitted  for  its 
work,  by  the  tempests  which  sway  into  strength  of  soft 
iron  the  folded  fibres  of  its  trunk,  and  cause  its  roots  to 
clasp  with  a  giant's  grip  the  rocks  and  earth  beneath. 
There  is  much  for  us  to  do  here,  there  is  infinitely  more 
for  us  to  do  beyond  the  grave  ;  we  need  to  be  prepared, 
and  God  prepares  us  by  resistance  in  difl3.culty,  by  endur- 
ance in  pain. 

Lastly.  God  is  teaching  us  in  trial  to  walk  after  Him 
in  a  straighter  path.  David  saw  the  shepherd  going  be- 
fore the  sheep  and,  by  his  straightness  of  walk,  keeping 
them  from  wandering,  and  he  made  the  picture  spiritual. 
In  my  sorrow,  by  my  sorrow.  He  is  leading  me  into  paths 
of  righteousness.  *  Before  I  was  chastened  I  went  wrong, 
but  now  have  I  kept  Thy  word.' 

"When  all  is  most  happy,  then  are  we  in  most  danger. 
Not  on  the  rock}^  ridge  of  difiiculty,  but  in  the  ease  of  a 
summer  life,  are  our  feet  most  doomed  to  slip.  Excite- 
ment passes  into  folly,  and  folly  into  sin.  We  enervate 
ourselves  in  the  oasis,  till  we  have  no  strength  to  combat 
with  the  desert. 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  69 

But  when  God  burns  up  our  conventional  life,  we  dread 
for  ever  afterward  our  comfort  and  our  ease.  We  con- 
trast,, then,  the  fever  of  passions  which  youth  has  almost 
consecrated  with  its  own  brightness  with  the  lasting 
enthusiasm  of  the  higher  love.  We  contrast  the  excite- 
ment of  the  earth  with  the  still  joy  of  union  with  the 
truth ;  the  vain  show  in  which  we  have  walked,  and  its 
disquietude,  with  the  deep  realities  and  deeper  peace  of 
the  eternal  life  with  God.  The  visions  of  this  world  are 
seen  worn  and  faded  in  the  glow  of  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness. It  is  in  the  hour  of  that  stern  revelation,  when  our 
old  life  is  shrivelled  like  a  scroll,  that  we  are  thrown 
upon  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  our  souls.  He  goes 
before  us,  and  we  know  His  voice.  Straight  as  an  arrow 
He  leads  us  on  in  righteousness,  day  by  day  we  follow 
Him  more  truly.  Before  us  shines  the  goal,  and  subdued 
and  strengthened  by  our  trial,  we  turn  aside  no  longer, 
but  in  the  midst  of  a  wavering  and  evil  world  run 
home. 

This  was  the  vision  of  experience  which  David  had  in 
the  hour  of  his  suffering.  God,  the  giver  of  great  joy ; 
God,  the  strength  of  his  heart ;  God,  the  guide  into 
righteousness ;  in  one  word,  God,  the  Shepherd  of  his 
life. 

There  is  but  one  organ  whereby  we  may  see  the  same. 
It  is  faith  exhibited  as  trust.  Without  it,  this  world  is 
still  that  ancient,  terrible  mystery,  deepening  into  deeper 
gloom  as  sorrow  deepens  in  us  and  around  us,  and  rolling 
in  upon  the  heart  ever  colder  and  lonelier  waters  as  life 
grows  darker  to  its  close.  With  it,  the  darkness  is  up- 
lifted.    We  see  the  other  world  of  life  and  love  beneath. 


ho  The  Twenty-third  Psalm, 

We  behold  God  as  He  is — tlie  Father  of  the  race,  the 
Lover  of  our  souls,  the  Educator  of  humanity.  Life  leaps 
out  of  trial,  joy  out  of  pain,  at  this  vision.  It  18  true,  we 
cry;  God  has  not  forgotten  me,  nor  my  brothers.  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  the  Lord  is  our  Shepherd ;  we  shall 
not  want  for  evermore. 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  71 


[March  17,  1867.] 

TEE  TWENTY-TEIRD  PSALM. 

Psalm  xxiii.  4 — 6, 

The  essential  value  of  tlie  Bible  as  the  book  of  books  is 
its  union  of  the  universal  and  the  particular.  Its  grand 
subjects  are  the  history  of  God's  education  of  the  race 
of  man  and  the  history  of  the  heart  of  man  in  its  relations 
to  God.  As  such  it  speaks  of  feelings  common  to  all 
men  and  of  principles  which  are  true  for  all  men.  This 
is  its  universal  interest.  But  it  has  also  a  particular 
interest.  It  was  written  by  men,  but  these  men  were 
Hebrews.  The  mode,  then,  in  which  these  universal 
truths  were  given  was  Hebrew;  they  were  clothed  with 
images  taken  from  Hebrew  scenery  and  Hebrew  life, 
they  were  connected  with  Hebrew  history,  they  were  in- 
woven with  the  lives  of  particular  Hebrew  men.  The 
Bible,  then,  is  not  only  divine  but  'human,  and  not  only 
human  and  divine  but  Hebrew. 

Now  when  the  two  former  ideas,  which  are  universal 
because  they  are  spiritual,  are  alone  dwelt  on,  the  Bible 
is  in  danger  of  becoming  unreal.  We  see  ourselves,  our 
own  trials,  our  own  opinions,  our  favourite  doctrines,  in 
the  Old  Testament  history.  We  become  fond,  like  the 
Greek  boy,  of  the  reflection,  and  we  can  see  nothing  but 
ourselves.  This  tendency  has  expended  itself  upon  the 
Psalms.     They  have  been   so   robbed  of  personality,  so 


72  The  Twenty -third  Psalm, 

exclusively,  some  of  them,  applied  as  Messianic  prophecies, 
so  exclusive^,  others  of  them,  seen  as  mystical  expressions 
of  spiritual  feeling,  that  all  sense  of  their  historical  reality 
has  perished  in  the  minds  of  many.  They  are  a  source  of 
comfort  and  help  to  especially  religious  men,  they  have 
but  little  interest  to  the  generality.  They  have  been 
removed  into  a  sphere  of  thought  into  which  many  no 
more  enter  than  they  do  into  the  writings  of  the  mystics 
of  the  middle  ages. 

Therefore,  if  we  wish  to  re- awaken  interest  in  the 
Psalms,  we  should  try  to  add  to  that  which  is  universal 
in  them  that  which  is  particular.  We  should  dwell  upon 
the  Hebrew  element  in  them,  connect  them  with  the  lives 
and  passions  of  the  Hebrew  writers,  and  show  how  their 
imagery  grew  as  naturally  out  of  the  scenery  of  Palestine 
as  their  modes  of  expression  were  coloured  by  the  every- 
day life  of  its  people. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  we  have  thus  clearly  found 
out  what  is  Hebrew  and  temporary  in  them,  we  are  f«r 
the  first  time  in  the  position  to  find  out  clearly  what  is 
universal  in  them.  Knowing  the  particular,  we  can  ab- 
stract it  and  leave  the  universal.  Without  the  know- 
ledge which  can  make  this  distinction,  we  are  in  danger 
of  making  Hebrew  modes  of  thought  and  action  the 
measures  of  the  thought  and  the  models  of  the  action  of 
the  present  day.  The  whole  of  the  history  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  from  the  very  earliest  period,  is  rife  with 
examples  of  this  tendency.  Men  imputed  to  that  which 
was  Hebrew,  human,  and  temporary  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, the  same  divine  authority  and  infallibility  which 
belong  only  to  that  which  is  universal  in  the  Bible.     It 


The  Twenty-third  Psalm.  73 

is  here,  therefore,  that  the  usefulness  of  accurate  know- 
ledge and  criticism  appears  most  clearly  as  a  balance  to 
ignorant  but  well-meaning  spiritual  enthusiasm. 

Our  object  this  morning  is  to  show  the  particular  in 
this  Psalm  by  connecting  the  last  three  verses  with  the 
history  of  David  when  he  fled  to  Mahanaim,  and  to  bring 
out  that  which  is  universal  in  it — the  pervading  idea  of 
faith  in  God. 

AYe  begin,  then,  with  the  fourth  verse. 

The  image  of  David's  great  distress,  *the  valley,'  or 
ravine,  '  of  the  shadow  of  death,'  or,  as  it  may  be  trans- 
lated, 'of  deep  shades,'  can,  without  any  fancifulness, 
be  connected  with  the  scenery  through  which  he  passed 
in  his  flight.  He  must,  after  crossing  Olivet,  have  de- 
scended to  the  fords  of  the  Jordan  by  one  of  the  rocky 
passes  which  lead  from  the  table-land  of  Jerusalem. 
These  deep  ravines  are  full  of  ghastty  shadows,  and  David 
passed  down  one  of  them  as  the  evening  had  begun  to 
fall,  and  waited  by  the  ford  of  Jordan  till  midnight. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  we  have  here  the  source  of 
the  image  in  this  verse.  Such  a  march  must  have  im- 
pressed itself  strongly  on  his  imagination.  The  weird 
and  fierce  character  of  the  desolate  ravine,  the  long  and 
deathly  shadows  which  chilled  him  as  the  sun  sank,  the 
fierce  curses  of  Shimei,  the  fear  behind  him,  the  agony 
in  his  own  heart  repeating  the  impression  of  the  land- 
scape, fastened  the  image  of  it  in  his  memory  for  ever. 
He  has  thrown  it  into  poetry  in  this  verse.  For,  now, 
when  he  mused  upon  his  trial,  he  transferred  to  the 
present  feelings  of  his  heart  at  Mahanaim  the  agony 
of  that  terrible  da}^,  but  added  to  it  the  declaration  of  the 


74  The  Twenty -third  Psalm. 

faitli  in  God  wliicli  his  deliverance  had  made  strong  with- 
in him. 

And  his  words  have  become  since  then  the  expression 
of  the  feelings  of  all  men  in  intensity  of  trial.  They 
are  generally  applied  to  that  time  when  the  last  great 
struggle  is  approaching,  when  the  soul,  entering  on  the 
border  land  of  the  unknown,  shudders  in  the  chill  shadows 
of  coming  death.  No  man  can  say  that  that  sharp 
severance  from  all  that  is  customary,  and  that  first  mo- 
ment of  a  strange  life,  is  not  a  time  of  awe  and  trial ;  but 
oh  !  God  knows  that  there  are  valleys  of  the  shadow  of 
death  in  life  itself  which  are  worse  than  death  a  thousand 
times.  It  is  enough  to  make  a  grave  man  smile  to  hear 
death  spoken  of  as  the  evil  of  evils.  Why,  thousands, 
every  year^  even  of  those  who  have  no  hope  in  the  future, 
welcome  death  as  the  releaser,  the  friend.  It  is  more 
tolerable  than  life. 

There  are  times  when  a  man  feels  that  all  real  life  is 
over  for  ever,  when  he  has  seen  every  costly  argosy  of 
hope  sink  like  lead  in  the  dark  waters  of  the  past,  when 
the  future  stretches  before  him  a  barren  plain  of  dreary 
sea,  on  which  a  fiery  sun  is  burning. 

There  are  times  when  another  has  at  last  felt  that 
all  the  past  has  been  unutterable  folly  and  darker  sin. 
He  looks  back  upon  his  youth,  and  knows  that  never, 
never  more  'the  freshness  of  his  early  inspiration^  can 
return.  The  pure  breeze  of  an  innocent  morning  was 
once  about  his  way,  he  hides  his  head  now  from  the 
fiery  simoom  of  remorse  in  the  desert  of  his  guilty 
life.  It  is  the  conscience's  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death. 


The  Twenty-third  Psalm,  75 

There  are  times,  too,  even  in  youth,  when,  by  a  single 
blow,  all  the  odour  and  colour  have  been  taken  out  of 
living,  when  the  treachery  of  lover  or  friend  has  made 
everything  in  existence  taste  badly  afterwards,  and  we, 
tortured  and  wrung  with  the  bitterest  of  bitternesses,  say 
in  our  blindness  that  all  is  evil  and  not  good.  It  is  the 
heart's  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 

And  there  are  times,  even  in  the  truest  Christian  life, 
when  all  faith  is  blotted  out  and  God  seems  to  become  a 
phantom,  an  impersonal  fate,  careless  of  the  lives  of 
men,  or  exacting  a  blind  vengeance ;  leaving  us  here  to 
struggle  for  our  life  as  a  man  struggles  in  a  stormy  sea  ; 
so  unsustained  and  so  abandoned  that  we  cry  out  in 
despair,  '  There  is  no  Father  in  heaven,  no  goodness 
ruling  all.'  Our  prayer,  wild  in  its  fervour  as  the  Syro- 
Phoenician  woman's,  has  the  same  reply — '  He  answered 
her  never  a  word.'  It  is  the  spirit's  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death. 

Now  what  was  David's  refuge  in  one  of  these  awful 
hours  ?  It  was  faith  in  God,  the  Ever-Near.  David  had 
entered  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  of  the  heart ;  he 
had  been  betrayed,  insulted,  exiled  by  the  one  whom  he 
had  loved  best.  It  was  enough  to  make  him  disbelieve  in 
divine  goodness  and  human  tenderness,  enough  to  harden 
his  heart  into  steel  against  God,  into  cruelty  against  man. 
In  noble  faith  he  escaped  from  that  ruin  of  the  soul,  and 
threw  himself  upon  God — *  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art 
with  me.' 

Brethren,  who  have  suffered  from  the  disappointments 
of  the  heart,  from  human  treachery  when  the  traitor  has 
been  most  dear  to  you,  the  only  refuge  of  your  soul  is  to 


76  The  Twenty-third  Psalm, 

believe  in  a  living  Person,  wlio  througb.  tbe  gloom,  witb 
undying  love,  is  guiding  your  blind  steps  as  a  sbepberd 
with  bis  rod  and  staff ;  for  that,  if  it  cannot  yet  be  comfort, 
is  at  least  the  source  of  endurance,  the  means  of  avoiding 
hardness  of  heart  or  recklessness  of  life,  the  one  thing 
which  keeps  alive  the  old  tenderness  of  feeling.  For  life 
and  death,  cling  to  the  love  of  God.  Have  faith  in  God, 
the  Educator  of  human  souls. 

It  is  the  same  remedy  when  you  despair  of  the  past  or 
of  the  future.  '  It  is  well,'  you  say,  '  to  speak  of  faith  to 
me.  I  cannot  believe.'  Yes,  you  can ;  for  in  your  case  it 
is  not  the  feeling  of  faith  which  is  wanted,  but  the  action 
of  faith.  'All  has  been  failure,'  you  say.  '  I  had  rather 
die  than  endure  the  future.'  f 

It  is  faith  in  God,  then,  to  try  again  ;  to  cast  that 
thought  of  death  away  and  go  forth  into  the  wilderness  to 
bear  your  cross  in  solitude,  till  God  bring  to  your  heart 
the  virtue  of  Christ's  conquest  in  the  desert,  and  the 
angel  of  strength  send  you  forth  again  to  lead  a  tenderer 
and  an  intenser  life. 

And  if  it  is  not  so  much  the  horror  of  the  future  as 
the  recollection  of  sin  in  the  past  which  makes  memory 
a  curse  and  a  fire  within  you,  then  God  does  not  de- 
mand of  you  a  high-wrought  feeling  of  faith  and  trust. 
The  faith  He  asks  then  is  only  enough  faith  not  to 
despair,  not  to  sin  the  sin  of  Judas,  only  sufficient  faith 
to  strive  to  do  better  for  the  future.  The  effort  itself  is 
faith  in  Him.  And  if  God  be  true,  there  is  a  blessed 
redemption  which  has  been  wrought  for  you.  God's 
love  in  Christ  forgets  and  forgives  the  past,  and  opens 
to  you  a  new  life.     Remorse  is  slain  by  belief  in  lovet 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  77 

The  spirit  of  Christ's  sacrifice  becomes  in  you  a  power  of 
resistance  against  evil,  and  a  life  which  kindles  in  you  a 
progressive  righteousness.  Following  Him  with  faltering 
stej)s,  you  will  pass  out  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  in  sin. 

And  if  there  be  one  among  you  who  has  entered  that 
awful  shadow  of  doubt,  which  is  sometimes  the  fate  of 
the  truest  follower  of  Christ,  to  him  we  do  not  say 
*  Believe,'  for  belief  is  the  very  point  attacked,  but  we 
do  say  '  Do  not  despair.'  There  is  a  faith  even  in  doubt, 
and  it  consists  in  striving  to  be  true  to  goodness  and 
truth,  even  though  you  cannot  believe  in  God  the  good  or 
in  God  the  true.  It  consists  in  feeling  that  doubt  is, 
though  sometimes  necessary,  not  the  healthy  condition  of 
the  soul.  It  consists  in  determining  to  realize  and  know 
clearly  what  your  doubts  are,  that  you  may  contend,  not 
with  a  shadowy  enemy,  but  with  a  well-defined  enemy. 
It  consists  in  resolution  not  to  be  satisfied  with  your 
condition,  but  to  press  forward  to  something  higher, 
for  doubt  is  often  as  lazy  as  religious  assurance  tends  to 
be,  and  as  productive  of  the  same  kind  of  spiritual  pride 
and  isolation.  To  act  on  these  principles  in  the  deepest 
darkness  of  the  sj^irit  is  still  possible,  and  it  is  a  germ  of 
faith  in  God  which  will  grow  into  the  perfect  flower 
of  a  bright  belief.  For  God's  presence  with  you  is  not 
destroyed  by  your  doubt.  You  are  still  His  child.  No 
feeling  of  yours  can  alter  that  divine  fact.  He  is  too 
persistently  your  Father  to  permit  your  cry  of  unbeKef  to 
become  the  cry  of  your  whole  life.  Out  of  the  gloom  of 
ourer  darkness  He  is  at  this  very  naoment  leading  you  like 
a  shepherd. 


yS  The  Twenty -third  Psalm, 

These  are  some  of  the  spiritual  applications  of  this  verse. 
It  sprang  from  the  heart  of  a  Hebrew  king.  It  has  found 
an  echo  in  the  heart  of  all  himianity. 

The  next  verse — on  the  supposition  that  the  psalm 
was  written  at  the  time  when  David  was  at  Mahanaim, 
is  at  once  comprehensible.  It  is  a  thanksgiving  to  God 
for  the  blessings  of  friendship  which  were  given  him  in 
his  exile.* 

Far  away  in  the  Eastern  city  there  came  consolation  to 
the  wearied  man.  New  friends  sprang  up  out  of  his  mis- 
fortune, old  friends  were  proved  in  his  misfortune.  Food, 
comfort,  sympathizers  were  given  to  him,  till  at  last  his 
heart  expressed  its  gratitude  in  this  psalm — '  Thou  pre- 
parest  a  table  for  me,'  &c. 

One  of  the  sad  comforts  of  trial  is  this,  that  it  is  the 
touchstone  of  friendship.  We  realize  then  who  are  true 
gold.  One  of  its  deepest  blessings  is  that  then  friendship, 
by  its  expansion,  by  its  abandonment  of  reserve,  by  the 
pleasure  of  giving  and  of  receiving,  is  deepened  into  an 
abiding  power.  We  often  lose  in  trial  what  is  calculable, 
we  oftener  gain  what  is  incalculable. 

Precisely  the  same  principle  holds  good  in  the  spiritual 
world.  The  blessing  of  all  trial  is  that  it  disperses  the 
vain  shows  of  life  on  which  we  rested,  and  makes  Christ, 
the  Eternal  Certainty,  more  deeply  known,  more  deeply 
ours  as  the  Friend  who  loveth  at  all  times.  This  is  one 
of  the  true  points  of  view  from  which  to  look  upon  the 
sufferings  of  life — they  are  leading  us  to  know  Christ 
better. 

But  how  ?  How  do  we  know  another  ?  Only  by 
*  2  Sam.  xvii.  27—29. 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  79 

entering  into  Ms  spirit,  by  sharing  in  his  life.  There 
is  a  broad  distinction  between  an  acquaintance  and  a 
friend.  "We  may  see  an  acquaintance  every  day,  but  we 
never  see  his  heart.  AYe  hover  with  him  over  the  sur- 
faces of  things,  touching,  it  may  be,  now  and  then  the 
real  inward  life  as  a  swallow  touches  a  stream  in  its 
flight,  but  we  never  dwell  with  him  within  the  temple  of 
inward  thought  or  enter  with  him  into  the  inner  shrine  of 
feeling. 

A  friend — how  different !  one  to  whom  your  heart  has 
opened  itself  as  freely  as  a  flower  to  the  sun,  to  receive 
from  whom  is  pleasure,  for  whom  to  sacrifice  yourself  is 
the  purest  joy,  the  secret  springs  of  whose  life  you  have 
stood  beside  with  awe  and  love,  whose  silence  is  as  vocal 
to  you  as  speech,  whose  passing  expressions  of  countenance 
convey  histories,  whose  being  has  passed  into  yours,  and 
yours  into  his,  each  complementing  and  exalting  each, 
with  whom  you  have  shared  existence  and  all  its 
passions,  whose  sorrow  and  whose  joy  move  you  as  the 
coming  spring  moves  the  woodland,  who  has  received  as 
much  from  you  as  you  from  him.  This  is  true  friendship, 
and  its  peculiar  mark  is  that  through  participation  in  the 
life  and  feelings  of  your  friend  you  have  become  at  home 
in  his  nature. 

So  is  it  with  Christ  and  the  Christian  man.  You  ask 
to  be  the  friend  of  Christ.  You  cannot  be  that  without 
partaking  in  some  degree  of  His  life.  You  ask  to  be 
glorified  with  Him.  You  must  first  drink  the  cup  He 
drank,  be  baptized  with  His  baptism.  The  great  law  of 
His  life  must  embrace  us  also — the  law  of  sacrifice,  ^"^e 
should  not  grieve  too  sorely  when  we  pass  through  the 


8o  The  Twenty-third  Psalm. 

valley  of  pain,  for  in  that  God  is  accepting  us  as  His 
sons.  Wlien  the  sacrifice  is  accomplished,  we  shall  find 
that  we  have  made  centuries  of  progress  in  the  knowledge 
of  our  Saviour  and  our  Father.  We  shall  know  that  we 
have  entered  into  their  life ;  that  conformity  to  their 
sacrifices  has  been  indeed  the  gate  to  their  marvellous 
friendship.  Our  cup  will  run  over  with  joy — the  joy  of 
willing  love. 

Finally,  the  last  verse  combines  the  retrospect  and  the 
prospect  of  faith.  David  glances  back  over  his  whole 
life,  and  declares  that  it  has  been  very  good.  '  Surely 
goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my 
life.'  That  is  the  expression,  not  of  a  youthful  shepherd's, 
but  of  a  man's  experience,  and  it  is  an  exj)ression  of 
triumphant  faith. 

It  was  not  every  one  who  in  David's  place  would  have 
said  so  t]ie)%.  Who  was  it,  we  ask,  who  spoke  these 
words  ?  Was  it  one  who  had  been  a  child  of  good  fortune 
from  his  youth  ?  I^o ;  it  was  one  who  had  held  his  life 
in  his  hand  for  years,  whose  life  as  king  had  been  ODje 
of  sore  trial  and  of  constant  war,  who  had  borne  the 
toil  of  forming  a  wild  people  and  of  weighty  cares  of 
State,  whose  spiritual  trials  had  been  deep  as  his  own 
passionate  character ;  one  who  even  now  as  he  spoke 
these  words  was  under  the  thundercloud  of  an  awful 
sorrow.  His  dearest  had  deceived  his  heart.  On  one 
all  the  afiection  of  David's  princely,  sensitive  spirit  had 
been  lavished,  and  it  was  that  very  son  who  now  repaid 
him  by  rebellion,  by  dark  ingratitude,  by  insults  darker 
still.  Add  to  this,  that  David  must  have  felt  that  this 
was  the  foretold  punishment  of   his  worst  and  blackest 


The  Twenty -third  Psalm,  8i 

guilt.  This  man,  then,  driven  out  an  exile,  a  prey  to 
such  a  vulture  pain  in  his  heart  of  sorrow  and  of  sin, 
how  do  we  find  him?  Crying  out  against  Grod  with 
unmanly  railing,  miserable  retrospective  weeping,  hope- 
lessness for  the  future  ?  Anything  but  that.  Resolute, 
cheerful,  victorious  over  himself  and  circumstances, 
triumphant  in  faith  in  God,  looking  back  on  his  life  as 
if  it  were  one  scene  of  blessing,  looking  forward  with 
radiant  hope  to  dwelling  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for 
ever. 

It  does  the  spirit  good,  and  makes  the  blood  run 
quicker,  and  kindles  in  our  faithless  sentimental  hearts 
some  fire  of  manly  and  Christian  strength,  to  read 
this. 

This  is  the  victor}^  of  faith  in  God — in  the  midst  of 
bitter  sorrow  and  outward  gloom — thanksgiving  for  the 
past,  joyful  hope  for  the  future. 

0  brethren,  who  are  mourning,  or  despairing,  or 
sleeping  in  the  sloth  of  trouble,  you  who  have  higher 
teaching  and  a  nobler  example  than  David  had,  awake 
out  of  your  dream}^,  self-conscious,  self- torturing  life, 
and  go  forth  like  men  who  know  what  Christ  Jesus  was, 
to  meet  the  solemnities  and  to  conquer  the  trials  of 
existence,  believing  in  a  Shepherd  of  your  souls.  Then 
faith  in  Him  will  support  you  in  duty  ;  and  duty  firmly 
done  will  strengthen  faith,  till  at  last,  when  all  is  over 
here,  and  the  noise  and  strife  of  the  earthly  battle  fades 
upon  your  dying  ear,  and  you  hear,  instead  thereof, 
the  deep  and  musical  sound  of  the  ocean  of  eternity, 
and  see  the  lights  of  heaven  shining  on  its  waters,  still 
and  fair  in  their  radiant   rest,  your  faith  will  raise  the 


8'2  The  Tzventy-third  Psalm, 

song  of  conquest,  and  in  its  retrospect  of  the  life  which 
has  ended,  and  its  forward  glance  upon  the  life  to  come, 
take  up  the  poetic  inspiration  of  the  Hebrew  king, 
*  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the 
days  of  my  life,  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
for  ever/ 


The  Virgins  Character,  %'^ 


[March  31,  1867.] 

THE    VIRGIN'S    CHARACTER. 

Luke  i.  46 — bo. 

I:n  the  course  of  last  week,  the  Church  celebrated  the 
Annunciation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  Lady  Day,  as  we 
call  it  in  common  talli,  is  the  day  on  which  the  history 
of  Christianity  begins,  and  the  collect  which  is  read  in 
the  course  of  the  appointed  service  supposes  this  by 
speaking  of  the  Incarnation. 

It  is  impossible,  in  treating  of  the  beginnings  of 
Christianity,  to  pass  over  without  a  word  the  life  of 
one  whose  image  has  dwelt  so  long  and  so  purely  in  the 
heart  of  Christendom,  whose  worshij)  has  moulded  so 
deeply  the  movements  of  history,  and  so  civilized  and 
softened  the  character  of  nations  ;  whose  tender  woman- 
hood as  maiden  and  mother  has  so  supremely  influenced 
art,  and  so  widely  modified  by  its  ideal  the  literature  of 
Europe. 

She   probably  passed  her   early  life  in  the   village  of 

Nazareth.     The  village  lay   surrounded  by  its   curving 

hills,  hidden,  like  a  cluster  of  stamens  in  the  cup  of  a 

flower,  from  the  gaze  of  men,  most  like  in  its  lowly  and 

concealed  position  to  the  character  of  '  the  handmaid  of 

the  Lord.'     The  grassy  slope  on  wbich.  it  stands  is  still 

G  2 


84  TJie  Virgi7is  Character, 

more  haunted  by  flowers  than  any  other  spot  in  Pahs- 
tine,  and  it  is  not  without  an  inherent  fitness  that  the 
Eoman  Church  has  ever  connected  the  Virgin  with  all 
the  unconscious  loveliness,  with  all  the  freshness,  deli- 
cacy, and  carelessness  of  ostentation  which  mark  the 
life  of  flowers.  It  was  a  still  and  beautiful  quiet  among 
the  hills.  Remote^  unknown,  far  from  the  bustle  and 
confusion  of  politics  and  parties  in  Palestine,  it  was, 
though  inhabited  by  a  wild  and  rough  population,  a 
fitting  home  for  the  young  girl  who  was  destined  to  be 
the  mother  of  Him  who  was  to  contend  in  the  power  of 
lowliness  for  the  salvation  of  the  world. 

Pure  in  heart,  she  could  have  no  fear  of  the  lawless 
men  who  surrounded  her;  rather  we  may  suppose  that 
a  rude  homage  was  paid  to  the  gentle  maidenhood  which 
walked  among  them.  Humble  in  heart,  she  drew  into 
herself,  by  the  very  receptiveness  of  her  humility,  all 
the  loveliness  of  the  flowers  and  hills.  All  the  silent 
sympathy  of  nature,  and  the  'vital  feelings  of  delight,' 
which  flow  into  us  from  the  beauty  of  the  world,  went 
to  form  her  character  and  purify  and  refine  her  heart. 
Lowly  in  rank,  she  never  dreamed  of  the  blessedness 
which  should  overshadow  her,  or  of  the  honour  she  should 
hold  within  the  world.  She  grew  serene  and  pure,  in  the 
liberty  of  humility,  in  the  dignity  of  secluded  gentleness, 
into  her  perfect  womanhood. 

And  here,  observe,  we  have  a  tj^pe  of  that  character 
in  which  Christ  is  for  ever  being  born.  To  the  pure, 
the  humble,  and  the  unselfish,  the  Blessedness  of  blessed- 
ness was  given.  The  Saviour  of  the  world  was  born  in 
her.     It  is  no  solitary  instance  when  we  transfer  it  from 


The  Virgins  Character,  85 

the  world  of  reality  to  the  world  of  spirit.  That  which 
took  place  once  in  the  outward  history  of  our  race  takes 
place  continually  in  the  inward  history  of  the  human 
heart.  The  miracle  of  the  Incarnation  is  renewed  again 
and  again  in  another  form.  Wherever  the  pure  heart, 
the  humhle  spirit,  the  seeking  and  receptive  soul  are 
found,  there  Christ  is  born.  To  all  who  live  in  the  clear 
air  of  truth,  in  the  gentleness  of  charity,  in  unconscious- 
ness of  self,  the  Holy  Spirit  comes.  These  are  the  rare 
angel  souls  whom  the  power  of  the  Highest  overshadows, 
and  in  whom  the  Saviour  is  reborn  for  men. 

And  Mary  felt  this.  God  had  not  chosen  her  for  her 
dignity,  her  wealth,  her  power.  He  had  regarded  the 
low  estate  of  His  handmaiden. 

One  morning,  according  to  the  old  legend,  *as  she 
went  to  draw  water  from  the  spring  or  well  in  the 
green  open  space  at  the  north-west  extremity  of  the 
town,'  the  angel  met  her  with  the  salutation.  And 
Mary  was  troubled  at  the  tidings  and  the  praise.  It  was 
the  trouble  of  a  beautiful  unconsciousness.  She  had 
never  thought  of  herself,  never  asked  herself  whether  she 
were  pure  or  lovely,  did  not  care  what  people  thought  of 
her,  made  no  effort  to  appear  to  the  little  world  of 
!N^azareth  other  than  she  was. 

A  rare  excellence  in  man  or  woman,  this  fair  uncon- 
sciousness ! — rarer  than  ever  now.  Our  miscalled  edu- 
cation, which  looks  chiefly  to  this,  how  a  young  girl 
may  make  a  good  figure  in  society,  destroys  often  from 
the  earliest  years  the  beauty  of  unconsciousness  of  self. 
There  are  many  who  have  never  had  a  real  childhood, 
never  been  unconscious,  who  possess  already  the  thoughts 


86  The  Virgin'' s  Character, 

and  airs  of  womanliood,  and  who  are  applauded  as 
objects  to  admire,  instead  of  being  pitied  as  victims  of 
an  unnatural  training.  Their  manners,  their  conversation, 
their  attitudes,  are  the  result  of  art.  Already  they 
tremble^  as  we  do,  for  the  verdict  of  the  world.  They 
grow  up  and  enter  into  society,  and  there  is  either  a 
violent  reaction  against  conventionality,  or  there  is  a 
paralyzing  sensitiveness  to  opinion,  or  there  is  a  dull 
repose  of  character  and  manner  which  is  all  but  equi- 
valent to  stagnation.  We  see  many  who  are  afraid  of 
saying  openly  what  they  think  or  feel,  if  it  be  in  op- 
position to  the  accredited  opinions  of  the  world ;  we  see 
others  who  rejoice  in  shocking  opinion  for  the  sake  of 
making  themselves  remarkable — perhajDS  the  basest  form 
of  social  vanity,  for  it  gives  pain  and  does  not  spring 
from  conviction.  Both  forms  arise  from  the  education 
which  makes  the  child  self-conscious.  It  is  miserable  to 
see  how  we  actually  take  pains  to  root  out  of  our  children 
the  beauty  of  the  Virgin's  early  life,  the  beauty  of  a  more 
divine  life  in  Christ — the  beauty  of  unconsciousness  of 
self.  We  take  away  all  the  charm  of  freshness  and 
Christian  grace  of  childhood,  and  we  replace  it  by  the 
insertion  into  the  child's  mind  of  that  degrading  question 
which  must  preface  act  and  speech,  'What  will  people 
say  of  me  ?  ' 

For,  to  make  your  children  live  only  by  the  opinions 
of  others,  to  train  them  not  to  influence  but  to  submit 
to  the  world,  is  to  educate  them  to  think  only  of  them- 
selves, is  to  train  them  up  to  inward  falseness,  is  to 
destroy  all  eternal  distinctions  between  right  and  wrong, 
is  to  reduce  them  to  that  dead  level  of  uneducated  un- 


The  Virgins  Character.  87 

originality  wMch  is  tlie  most  melancholy  feature  in  the 
young  society  of  London.  Let  them  grow  naturally, 
spontaneously,  and  keep  them  unconscious  of  themselves : 
and,  for  the  sake  of  the  world,  which,  in  the  midst  of  all 
its  conventional  dulness,  longs  for  something  fresh  and 
true,  if  not  for  the  sake  of  Grod,  do  not  press  upon  them 
ttie  belief  that  the  voice  of  society  is  the  measure  of  what 
is  right  or  wrong,  beautiful  or  unbeautiful,  fitting  or  un- 
fitting for  them  to  do.  The  unconscious  life  of  Mary — 
what  a  charm  those  who  possessed  it  might  exercise  upon 
the  world ! 

2.  Look  next  at  the  Virgin's  quiet  acceptance  of 
greatness. 

Nothing  impresses  us  more  than  the  calmness  with 
which,  after  the  first  trouble  was  past,  the  Virgin  received 
the  message  of  the  angel.  She  was  not  dazzled  nor 
excited  by  her  glorious  future.  She  was  not  touched  by 
any  vanit}^  'Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord.'  In 
nothing  more  than  in  this  is  the  simple  greatness  of  her 
character  displayed.  What  was  the  reason  of  this  ?  It 
was  that  the  thought  of  God's  presence  with  her  destroyed 
all  thought  of  self  She  could  not  think  of  her  great- 
ness otherwise  than  as  bestowed  by  God.  'He  that 
is  mighty  hath  magnified  me.'  She  could  not  feel  the 
flutter  of  vanity.  It  died  in  the  thought  of  the  glorious 
salvation  which  was  coming  to  her  country  and  the 
world.  '  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  my  spirit  hath 
rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour.'  She  was  nothing;  God 
was  all. 

Do  you  want  a  cure  for  that  false  humility,  that  mock 
modesty,  which  says,  'I  am  not  worthy,'  and  trumpets 


88  The  Virgiiis  Character, 

its  denial  till  all  the  world  knows  that  an  honour  has 
been  offered  ;  which,  while  it  says  with  the  lips,  '  It  is 
too  great  for  me,'  feels  all  the  time  in  the  heart  that  self- 
consciousness  of  merit  which  betrays  itself  in  the  affected 
walk  and  the  showy  humility  ?  Would  you  be  free  from 
this  folly  ?  Learn  Mary's  secret.  Feel  that  God  is  all ; 
that,  whether  He  makes  you  great  or  leaves  you  unknown, 
it  is  the  best  for  you,  because  it  is  His  work.  *  Behold 
the  handmaid  of  the  Lord.  Let  Him  do  unto  me  as  it 
seemeth  Him  good.' 

Do  you  want  a  cure  for  that  unhappy  restless  vanity, 
ever  afraid,  yet  ever  seeking  to  push  itself  forward ;  ever 
shy,  yet  ever  trembling  on  the  verge  of  impertinence ; 
which  shows  itself  to  inferiors  in  rank  in  a  bustling 
assumption  of  superiority  which  suspects  it  is  not  superior, 
and  to  superiors  in  rank  by  an  inquietude,  an  ignorance 
of  when  to  speak  and  when  to  be  silent,  sometimes  by  a 
fawning  submission,  sometimes  by  an  intrusive  self- 
assertion  ?  Learn  Mary's  secret.  Feel  that  you  are  the 
child  of  God,  not  the  servant  or  the  master  of  any  man, 
but  the  servant  of  Christ,  who  was  the  servant  of  all. 
Yain !  What  have  any  of  us  to  be  vain  of?  Rank? 
wealth  ?  beauty  ?  pomp  of  household  ?  dress  ?  splendour 
of  appearance  ?  A  few  years,  and  we  are  lying  in  the 
chill  earth  of  the  churchyard ;  our  eye  dead  to  admiration, 
our  ear  to  praise ;  and  the  world — whose  smile  we  for- 
feited eternal  life  to  court — regrets  us  for  an  hour  and 
then  forgets.  And  that  is  human  life  !  No ;  it  is  the 
most  miserable  travesty  of  it.  We  stand  in  the  presence 
of  God.  What  are  all  the  adventitious  advantages  of 
rank  or  wealth  to  Him,  or  to  us  in  Him  ?      Only  the 


The  Virghi^s  Character,  89 

tarnislied  spangles,  the  tinsel  crowns,  the  false  diamonds, 
which,  are  the  properties  of  this  petty  theatre  which  we 
call  the  world.  Once  be  able  to  say  in  j^our  heart,  '  Be- 
hold the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ;  be  it  unto  me  as  He 
will,'  and  vanity  and  all  its  foolish  fluttering  tribe  of 
small  victories  over  others,  of  pushing  meannesses,  of 
restless  desires,  of  little  ostentations,  will  abandon  your 
hearts  for  ever.  The  true  greatness,  wealth,  nobility,  is 
to  be  at  one  in  character  with  the  everlasting  goodness, 
truth,  and  love  of  God  ;  to  be  great  with  the  magnan- 
imit}^  of  Christ,  to  be  rich  in  all  the  eternal  virtues,  to  be 
noble  among  the  aristocracy  of  the  best  men.  He  who 
possesses  these  can  never  be  vain,  and  the  way  to  possess 
them  is  the  Virgin's  way — to  be  the  servant  of  God,  to  do 
His  will. 

The  journey  to  Judah  followed  on  the  Annunciation. 
Mary  had  heard  that  her  cousin  Elizabeth  had  attained 
the  dearest  wish  of  a  Jewish  woman — she  was  to  have  a 
son.  So  the  Yirgin,  full  of  the  thoughts  which  thrilled 
her  as  she  pondered  the  angel's  message,  full  of  the 
sympathy  of  eager  friendship,  rose  and  went  into  the  hill 
country  to  see  her  cousin.  As  she  entered  the  house, 
Elizabeth,  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  saluted  her  almost  in 
the  same  words  as  the  angel. 

What  a  moment  was  that  for  Mary !  For  the  first 
time  since  the  Annunciation  the  tidings  of  the  angel  were 
confirmed  by  a  human  voice.  That  which  she  had  hidden 
in  the  silence  of  her  heart,  that  which  she  had  believed 
but  half  feared  to  realize,  was  spoken  out  to  her  and  made 
real  by  another. 

And  then  how  natural  that  Mary's  heart,  so  long  quiet. 


90  The  Virgins  Character. 

so  long  filled  with  tlie  marvellous  thought  to  which  she 
had  given  the  full  force  of  that  meditative  sj)irit  which 
was  so  fully  developed  in  her  after  life,  so  long  repressed 
— should  have  stirred  at  the  touch  of  human  and  womanly 
sympathy  and  burst  out  into  the  song  of  joy  and  exulta- 
tion, ^  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,'  &c.  ! 

This^  brethren,  is  unaffected  truth  to  nature. 

In  this  unpremeditated  song  of  the  Yirgin's,  we  find 
some  further  points  of  her  character  as  the  type  of  noble 
womanhood. 

First,  her  idea  of  fame — '  All  generations  shall  call  me 
blessed.' 

A  true  woman's  thought !  For  so  far  as  a  woman  is 
sincere  to  the  nature  God  has  given  her,  her  aspiration  is 
not  so  much  that  the  world  should  ring  with  her  fame,  or 
society  quote  her  as  a  leader  of  fashion,  but  that  she 
should  bless,  and  be  blessed  in  blessing.  It  is  not  that 
she  should  not  wish  for  power,  but  that  she  should  wish 
for  a  noble,  not  an  ignoble  power.  It  is  not  that  she 
should  not  wish  to  queen  )it  in  this  world,  but  that  she. 
should  wish  to  queen  it,  not  by  ostentation  of  dress  or  Kfe, 
nor  by  eclipsing  others,  but  by  manifestation  of  love,  by 
nobility  of  gentle  service,  by  unconscious  revelation  in 
her  life  and  conscious  maintenance  in  others  by  her  in- 
fluence, of  all  things  true  and  pure,  of  stainless  honour 
in  life,  of  chivalrous  aspiration  in  the  soul.  At  home  or. 
in  the  wider  sphere  of  social  action  her  truest  fame  is  this, 
that  the  world  should  call  her  blessed.  The  music  of  that 
thought  sounds  through  every  line  of  the  Yirgin^s  psalm. 

And  there  is  no  sadder  or  uglier  sight  in  this  world 
than  to  see  the  women  of  a  land  grasping  at  the  ignoble 


The  Virgins  Character.  91 

honour  and  rejecting  the  noble ;  leading  the  men,  whom 
they  should  guide  into  high  thought  and  active  sacrifice, 
into  petty  slander  of  gossip  in  conversation,  and  into  dis- 
cussion of  dangerous  and  unhealthy  feeling;  becoming 
in  this  degradation  of  their  directing  power  the  curse 
and  not  the  blessing  of  social  intercourse — becoming  what 
men  in  frivolous  moments  wish  them  to  be,  instead  of 
making  men  what  men  should  be ;  abdicating  their  true 
throne  over  the  heart  to  grasp  at  the  kingdom  over 
fashion ;  ceasing  to  protest  against  impurity  and  unbelief, 
and  giving  them  an  underhand  encouragement ;  turning 
away  from  their  mission  to  bless,  to  exalt,  and  to  console, 
that  they  may  struggle  through  a  thousand  meannesses 
into  a  higher  position,  and  waste  their  divine  energy  to 
win  precedence  over  their  rival ;  expending  all  the  force 
which  their  more  excitable  nature  gives  them,  in  false 
and  sometimes  base  excitements  day  after  day,  with  an 
awful  blindness  and  a  pitiable  degradation ;  exhausting 
life  in  amusements  which  fritter  away,  or  in  amusements 
which  debase,  their  character ;  possessing  great  wealth, 
and  expending  it  only  on  self,  and  show,  and  shadows  ; 
content  to  be  lapped  in  the  folds  of  a  silken  and  easy  life, 
and  not  thinking,  or  thinking  only  to  the  amount  of 
half-a-dozen  charitable  subscriptions  —  a  drop  in  the 
waters  of  their  expenditure — not  thinking  that  without 
*  their  closed  sanctuary  of  luxurious  peace,^  thousands  of 
their  sisters  are  weeping  in  the  night  for  hunger  and  for 
misery  of  heart,  and  men  and  children  are  being  trampled 
down  into  the  bloody  dust  of  this  city,  the  cry  of  whose 
agony  and  neglected  lives  goes  up  in  wrath  to  the  ears 
of  God.     This  is  not  our  work,  you  say,  this  is  the  work 


92  The  Virgins  Character, 

of  men.  Be  it  so  if  you  like.  Let  them  be  tTie  hands 
to  do  it;  but  who,  if  not  women,  are  to  be  the  hearts 
of  the  redemption  of  the  poor  from  social  wrong?  As 
long  as  the  women  of  England  refuse  to  guide  and 
to  inspire,  as  long  as  they  forget  their  nature,  and  think 
of  pleasure  instead  of  blessing,  as  long  as  they  shut 
their  ears  to  the  agony  of  the  cities  of  this  land,  that 
they  may  not  be  disturbed  in  their  luxury,  and  litera- 
ture, and  art,  so  long  men  will,  as  they  have  ever  done, 
take  the  impulse  of  their  lives  from  them  and  do  nothing 
chivalrous,  nothing  really  self-sacrificing,  nothing  very 
noble  and  persistent  for  the  blessing  of  the  world. 
The  regeneration  of  society  is  in  the  power  of  the 
woman,  and  she  turns  away  from  it.  All  future  English 
generations  might  call  her  blessed,  and  she  prefers 
to  be  called  fashionable.  The  hearts  of  men,  the  lives 
of  men,  are  in  their  hands.  How  do  they  use  their 
power  ? 

It  seems  unnecessary  to  say  that  this  is  but  a  one- 
sided representation.  But  it  ^s  one  side,  and  a  side 
necessary  to  dwell  on.  There  is  no  fear  of  the  other 
being  forgotten. 

That  womanhood  will  not  rise  to  the  height  of  her  true 
vocation,  as  the  saving,  exalting,  and  blessing  element  in 
society,  is  sad  and  pitiable,  beyond  all  human  sadness  and 
pity,  to  every  one  who  loves  and  honours  England. 

This  large  conception  of  womanly  duty,  this  which 
is  the  patriotism  of  the  woman,  was  not  absent  from  the 
Yirgin's  character.  She  rejoiced  in  being  the  means  of 
her  country's  blessing.  *He  hath  holpen  His  servant 
Israel,  in  remembrance  of  His  mercy,  as  He  spake  to  our 


The  Virgins  Character,  93 

fathers,  to  Abraliam  and  his  seed  for  ever.'  It  might 
be  imagined  that  thoughts  like  these  would  be  too  uni- 
versal for  a  simple  Jewish  maiden.  But  remember  she 
was  espoused  to  one  in  whose  veins  ran  the  blood  of 
Abraham,  whose  fathers  had  been  kings  in  Jerusalem. 
Joseph  was  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  and  in  him  she 
was  linked  to  all  the  glorious  past  of  her  nation.  From 
the  hill-top,  too,  of  Nazareth  she  saw  daily  the  peaks  of 
Hermon,  Tabor,  and  Carmel,  and  the  mist  above  the  dis- 
tant sea.  '  So  wide  a  prospect  is  scarcely  seen  in  Palestine. 
And  as  the  woman  walked  at  eventide,  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  her  land  must  have  grown  deeply  into  her  heart, 
till  love  of  country  was  mingled  with  the  life-blood  in 
her  veins.  And  now,  inspired  with  the  thought  of  the 
blessedness  coming  on  her  nation,  the  whole  past  and 
future  of  her  race,  from  the  tents  of  the  wandering  patri- 
arch to  the  church  of  the  Messiah  to  come,  lay  before  her 
patriotic  eyes,  as  blessed  at  last  through  Him  who  should 
be  born  of  her. 

The  heart  of  the  Yirgin  broke  into  a  song  of  joy.  She 
forgot  her  own  honour  in  God  who  gave,  she  forgot  her- 
self in  her  country. 

And  this  is  that  which  we  want  in  England — women 
who  will  understand  and  feel  what  love  of  country  means 
and  act  upon  it ;  who  will  lose  thought  of  themselves 
and  their  finery  and  their  pleasure  in  a  passionate  efibrt 
to  heal  the  sorrow  and  to  destroy  the  dishonour,  dis- 
honesty, and  vice  of  England ;  to  realize  that  as  mothers, 
maidens,  wives,  and  sisters,  they  have  but  to  bid  the  men 
of  this  countr}^  to  be  true,  brave,  loving,  just,  honourable, 
and  wise  ;  and  they  will  become  so,  as  they  will  become 


94  The  Virgtfis  Character, 

frivolous,  base^  unloving,  ashamed  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness, if  women  are  so ;  to  be  not  content  to  live  only  for 
their  own  circles,  and  to  be  self-sacrificing  and  tender 
there,  but  to  take  upon  their  hearts  the  burden  of  the 
poor,  the  neglected,  and  the  sinful,  for  whom  many  of  the 
most  influential  now  exercise  a  dainty  distant  pity  and  no 
more.  This  is  the  woman's  patriotism,  and  the  first  note 
of  its  mighty  music — a  music  which  might  take  into  itself 
and  harmonize  the  discords  of  English  society — was  struck 
more  than  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  in  the  song  of  the 
Yirgin  Mary. 


The  Development  of  Christ,  &c,  95 


[January  20,  1867.] 

TRE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST  THROUGH  THE 
INFLUENCES  OF  HOME. 

Luke  ii.  51. 

Of  the  cliildliood  of  the  Regenerator  of  the  world  we 
possess,  strange  to  say,  scarcely  any  record.  A  few 
mysterious  and  tender  pictures,  coloured  with  the  grace 
of  unconsciousness  and  touched  in  with  the  tenderness 
of  a  pure  woman,  meet  us  in  the  Gospels.  Their  most 
marked  characteristic  is  their  simplicity.  The  stories 
could  not  be  told  in  shorter  words.  There  is  no  parade 
of  wonders.  If  they  are,  here  and  there,  supernatural,  it 
is  the  most  natural  super  naturalism  in  the  world.  There 
is  no  exaltation  of  one  fact  above  another.  The  commonest 
occurrence  is  told  with  the  same  quietude  as  the  most 
uncommon,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Child  all 
things  became  equally  wonderful.  The  adoration  of  the 
wise  men  is  narrated  with  no  more  emphasis  than  the 
circumcision  of  Christ.  The  revelation  to  the  shepherds 
is  told  in  the  same  unassuming  strain  as  the  speech  of 
Simeon  in  the  Temple. 

Pass  on  to  His  boyhood,  and  the  sam-e  reticence  and 
simplicity  prevail.  It  is  almost  as  if  the  compilers  of  the 
Gospels  wished  to  answer  by  anticipation  the  mythical 
theory.     Jesus  is  not  represented  as  a  youthful  prodigy. 


9  6        The  Developme7it  of  Christ  through  the 

There  are  no  accounts  of  His  wonderful  acuteness  at 
school,  His  more  than  human  wisdom,  His  miraculous 
power.  There  is  no  mist  of  ornament  around  Him,  no" 
glitter,  no  enthusiasm,  no  fantastic  marvels  ;  He  rose  into 
manhood,  like  the  Temple  of  Solomon,  in  solemn  noiseless- 
ness. 

Again.  Observe  that  all  these  stories  are  joined  to 
natnral  events  and  to  common  life.  Now  there  was  and  is 
still  a  tendency  in  Christian  theology  to  idealize  Christ's 
childhood  and  His  life,  to  seek  for  the  supernatural  in 
it,  to  multiply  miracles,  to  dwell  upon  His  divinity  to  the 
detriment  of  His  humanity ;  in  fact,  to  do  that  very  thing 
which  the  destructive  criticism  declares  the  Christians 
did  unconsciously  after  the  death  of  Christ,  to  make  a 
picture  of  His  human  life  in  accordance  with  their  con- 
ception of  His  divinity,  instead  of  forming  a  conception 
of  His  divinity  from  the  picture  presented  in  the  Grospels 
of  His  humanity.  To  speak  of  the  development  of  Jesus, 
of  His  growth  in  wisdom  and  in  moral  power,  is,  in 
spite  of  the  text  which  states  these  facts,  considered 
inconsistent  with  the  honour  due  to  Him.  To  say  that 
He  exhibited  anything  so  human  as  wonder,  that  He 
was  ignorant  of  some  things,  is  denounced  as  heretical, 
in  spite  of  the  assertions  of  the  Evangelists  that  He 
marvelled  at  the  centurion's  faith,  of  His  own  assertion 
that  He  did  not  know  the  hour  of  the  day  of  judgment, 
and  of  the  story  that  H©  came  to  the  fig-tree  expecting  to 
find  fruit  thereon,  and  finding  none.  To  say  that  Christ, 
being  the  reputed  son  of  a  village  carpenter,  probably 
pursued  his  father's  trade,  to  speak  of  Him  as  entering 
into  the  sports  of  childhood,  or  sharing  in  the  every-day 


Injlttences  of  Home,  97 

life  of  tlie  Nazarenes,  is  irreverent  to  these  delicate  theo- 
logical susceptibilities. 

They  all  share  in  the  same  .miserable  mistake,  the  same 
false  conception  of  an  aristocratic  Christianity. 

I  thank  God  that  all  these  stories  are  linked  to 
common,  every-day  Kfe,  are  bound  up  in  our  thoughts 
with  simple  childhood,  with  homely  feelings,  with  quiet 
village  existence,  with  manual  labour,  with  the  belief 
in  a  Divine  Son  of  man,  who  was  not  ^  too  bright  and 
good  for  human  nature's  daily  food.'  For  next  to  the 
blessedness  of  feeling  that  in  Christ  our  spiritual  being 
is  made  alive,  is  the  blessedness  of  knowing  that  every 
phase  of  pure  human  life  is  dignified  and  beautified  in 
Him. 

It  lies  in  the  very  depth  of  the  idea  of  Christianity 
that  it  is  the  Eternal  Word  made  flesh.  The  ancient 
philosophers  were,  and  we  ourselves,  in  the  unconscious 
philosophy  of  the  heart,  are  crushed  too  often  with  the 
thought  that  we  can  never  make  the  miserable  details 
of  a  common  life  agree  with  the  high  ideals  of  the  soul. 
But  Christianity  (and  in  this  it  is  essentially  a  new 
principle)  declares  in  the  life  of  Christ  the  actual  union  of 
pure  Divinity  with  ordinary  human  life.  Those  who,  in 
well-meaning  efibrts  to  keep  up  the  dignity  of  Christ, 
practically  deny  this,  deny  the  very  deepest  thing  in 
Christianity,  and  deprive  it  of  its  greatest  power  over 
men.  They  lose  the  real  in  clinging  to  the  ideal ;  they 
forget  that  if  they  wish  to  gain  the  ideal  they  must  pass 
to  it  through  the  real — must,  as  the  Saviour  first  taught, 
win  the  perfect  life  of  Spirit  by  serene  and  resolute  accom- 

H 


9  8        The  Development  of  Christ  throtigh  the 

plisliing  of  every  stage,  of  every  duty,  of  every  pliase  of 
the  imperfect  life  of  man. 

He  traversed  all — childhood,  boyhood,  youth,  and  man- 
hood ;  he  touched  all  that  was  universally  common  to  pure 
humanity  in  each,  and  from  henceforth  there  is  no  life, 
even  to  the  very  lowest,  in  which  the  real  may  not  become 
what  it  is  in  its  purity — the  ideal ;  no  office,  no  work, 
which,  done  in  His  spirit,  the  making  of  a  book  or  the 
digging  of  a  garden,  may  not  accord  with  the  highest 
imagination  of  your  spirit,  and  chime  in  with  your  most 
poetical  vision  of  perfection. 

It  is  now  the  time  of  the  Christian  year  when  the 
childhood  and  youth  of  Jesus  Christ  are  brought  before 
our  minds.  This  morning  we  trace  rapidly  the  influence 
of  His  home  life  upon  the  character  of  Christ. 

1.  It  established  His  love  of  man  upon  a  sure  found- 
ation. 

There  are  dangers  in  mere  philanthrop}^,  or  the  love  of 
men  in  the  mass.  It  often  sacrifices  the  individual  in  its 
eagerness  for  the  good  of  the  generality.  You  can  never 
tell  what  a  philanthropist  of  this  kind  may  become. 
Hobespierre  was  one,  and  he  decimated  France  to  attain  a 
perfect  republic. 

Again,  in  creating  large  duties  abroad,  he  often  neg- 
lects small  ones  at  home.  The  man  most  benevolent 
on  a  large  scale  may  be  thoughtless  of  the  peace  and 
comfort  of  a  few  workmen  personally  dependent  on 
himself.  Pity  and  active  relief  of  those  in  visible  and 
dreadful  distress,  such  as  the  prisoners  in  the  jails  last 
century,  may  co- exist  with  a  virulent  temper  and  a  cruel 
tongue.     Philanthropy  not  based  on  natural  afiection,  not 


Injluences  of  Home,  99 

developed  naturally  from  the   beginning,  has   often   in 
practice  a  tendency  to  cruelty. 

Again,  the  philanthropist  often  busies  himself  about 
schemes,  not  persons.  His  tendency  then  is  to  fall  in 
love  with  his  own  schemes,  and  to  forget  the  persons. 
In  this  way  he  sometimes  arrives  at  a  curious  goal ; 
either  at  coldness  of  heart,,  or  at  that  obstinate  rigidity 
of  plan  which  has  in  charitable  schemes  produced 
greater  suffering  than  that  which  they  were  intended  to 
alleviate.  If  his  schemes  fail,  we  see  plainly  the  want 
of  love  at  the  root  of  his  character.  He  becomes  the 
harsh  satirist,  and  the  harsher  judge  of  those  men  who 
refused  to  be  benefited  by  entering  into  his  view  of  the 
universe.  His  pride  is  hurt,  he  coils  himself  up  in 
his  own  moroseness.  That  is  the  inward  result  of  his 
philanthropy. 

Again,  philanthropy  sometimes  degenerates  into  in- 
jurious extravagance.  The  desire  of  giving  away  to 
others  is  often  nothing  more  than  the  mere  gratification 
of  an  instinct.  It  produces  almost  a  sensual  pleasure  in 
some  men,  and  is  a  kind  of  disease.  Such  a  man  is  the 
victim  of  flatterers,  and  the  '  friends '  who  receive  his 
gifts  are  worthless.  The  commonness  of  his  generosity 
destroys  all  gratitude,  as  the  commonness  of  a  miracle 
destroys  belief  in  the  supernatural.  He  is  the  uninten- 
tional enemy  of  a  true  society,  and  when  he  discovers  that 
he  has  wasted  all  on  a  heartless  world,  the  reaction  is  ter- 
rible. He  goes  forth  from  Athens,  the  misanthrope,  hurl- 
ing imprecations  on  the  society  which  has  disappointed 
him,  to  make  his  solitary  grave  '  upon  the  beached  verge 
of  his  salt  flood.' 

H  2 


loo     The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

These  results  are  only  avoided  by  beginning  from  tbe 
beginning,  from  the  broad  foundation  of  home  affection. 
We  are  insensibly  taught  in  the  circle  of  home  some 
useful  lessons — taught  not  to  expect  too  much  ;  taught 
how  necessary  flexibility  is  to  love  ;  taught  to  mould  the 
means  of  love  to  the  end  of  love  ;  taught  to  apply  different 
methods  to  different  characters;  taught  that  delicate 
economy  of  affection  which  restrains  the  extravagant 
impulses  of  affection  that  it  may  have  more  to  give. 
We  gain  a  resting-place  of  love,  whither  we  may  retire 
with  a  certainty  of  finding  healing  when  we  are  disap- 
pointed. We  gain  a  security  against  moroseness,  harsh- 
ness, and  misanthropy.  Above  all  we  so  root  love  within 
our  hearts  by  slow  and  natural  growth  that  nothing 
afterwards  can  eradicate  it.  We  develope  our  charity  in 
the., natural  order.  First,  love  of  parents,  love  of  family, 
love  of  friends  ;  then  we  are  ready  to  love  our  country 
well,  to  become  the  wise  philanthropist,  and  finally  to 
concentrate  this  tried  and  well-grounded  love  in  one  great 
volume  upon  Grod.  First,  the  natural,  then  the  social, 
then  the  spiritual. 

That  was  the  way  of  Christ.  He  grew  naturally  in 
love.  It  was  a  normal,  slow  development  of  the  affec- 
tion which  was  to  die  for  the  world.  His  love  for  the 
mass  of  men  was  laid  on  the  foundation  of  the  home  life 
at  Nazareth.  And  afterwards,  when  He  embraced  the 
human  race  in  His  infinite  charity,  the  immensity  of  His 
view  did  not  destroy  His  tender  sense  of  the  dearness  of 
still  domestic  life.  It  is  most  touching  to  watch  Him,  as 
He  drew  near  to  the  time  when  the  sacrifice  of  His  life 
for  the  world  was  to  be  consummated,   returning  every 


Inflice7tces  of  Home,  '     loi 

night  over  the  silent  paths  of  -Olivet  to  seek  the  same 
repose  and  love  which  he  had  once  enjoj-ed  at  Nazareth, 
in  the  village  home  of  Bethany.  It  is  the  profound  les- 
son of  His  life  that  that  philanthropy  is  only  true,  last- 
ing, and  fruitful  which  has  its  root  in  the  sanctities  of 
home ;  that  there  is  one  sense  in  which  the  proverb, 
*  Charity  begins  at  home,*  is  as  entirely  just  as  in  another 
it  is  unjust. 

From  this  love  of  home  life  was  developed,  in  the  mind 
of  Christ,  His  deep  sense  of  the  worthiness  of  domestic 
and  social  relations. 

There  are  those  who  do  not  agree  with  Him  —  men 
who  think  that  in  separation  from  all  domestic  and 
social  ties  they  can  live  more  purely  and  worship  God 
with  a  more  entire  devotion ;  that  a  systematic  con- 
tempt for  all  the  bonds  which  bind  mother  to  son,  and 
wife  to  husband,  is  a  proof  of  the  highest  spirituality  ; 
whose  spiritual  religion  consists  in  a  denial  of  the 
natural  piety  of  the  heart,  and  whose  efforts  for  a  re- 
formation of  human  nature  are  founded  on  a  denial  of 
human  nature. 

This  was  not  the  feeling  of  the  Perfect  Man ;  He  had 
learnt  other  lessons  from  his  Heavenly  Father's  teach- 
ing given  through  the  blessed  influences  of  home.  He 
sanctified  the  marriage  tie  by  His  first  public  miracle. 
He  sanctified  the  social  meetings  of  the  world  by  the 
same  miracle.  He  came  to  men,  not  fasting  and  living 
apart  like  the  ascetic  John,  but  eating  and  drinking; 
and  hallowing  the  life  of  business  and  of  daily  work  by 
walking  continually  among  the  throng  of  men  in  active 
labour  and  in  social  communion.     He  met  once  a  widow 


102     The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

weeping  over  the  dead  body  of  her  only  son.  Did  He 
meet  her  with  a  stern  and  harsh  reproof,  or  with  a 
recommendation  to  a  conventual  life  ?  ^  And  when 
the  Lord  saw  her,  He  had  compassion  on  her/  He 
stood  by  the  grave  of  His  friend,  and  heard  the  sister 
of  Lazarus  weeping.  Did  He  check  the  tears,  and  de- 
nounce the  love  of  nature  ?  ^  Jesus  wept.'  He  hung  in 
dying  agony  upon  the  Cross,  and  beneath  Him  stood  the 
friend  of  His  manhood  and  the  Mother  of  His  youth. 
Did  He  unbind  the  band  of  sorrow  which  united  them  ? 
Li  words  crowded  with  the  brief  eloquence  of  death.  He 
bore  a  dying  witness  to  His  sense  of  the  blessedness  of 
the  domestic  ties,  and  to  His  own  remembrance  of  their 
power.  *  Woman,  behold  thy  son.^  Priend,  *  behold  thy 
mother.^ 

In  this  development  of  love  in  the  heart  of  Christ 
there  were  two  other  conditions  of  affection  which  arose 
directly  out  of  His  home  life.  These  were  friendship  and 
patriotism.  The  necessity  in  his  heart  for  friendship,  i.e. 
for  affection  for  distinct  persons,  as  distinguished  from 
the  general  love  of  the  race,  was  developed  by  the  home 
life  at  Nazareth.  Supposing  it  possible  to  conceive  of 
Christ  as  the  mere  philanthropist  who  sacrifices  par- 
ticular friendships  to  universal  love,  how  much  had  been 
lost  to  us  for  ever  !  For  we  stand  in  wonder  and  in  awe 
before  the  love  which  died  to  save  the  world ;  but  when 
we  are  left  desolate  in  life,  and  no  human  voice  can  give 
to  us  either  power  of  will  or  resignation  of  heart — then 
we  turn  for  personal  consolation  to  Him  who  loved  John 
with  the  distinguishing  love  of  friendship,  for  sympathy 
to  Him  who  felt  alike  with  the  impetuous  repentance  of 


Infiuences  of  Home.  103 

Peter  and  the  silent  tears  of  Mary  for  the  brother  she  had 
lost. 

Not  only  friendship  but  also  patriotism.  The  source 
of  the  tears  which  the  Saviour  wept  over  Jerusalem 
arose,  humanly  speaking,  in  the  heart  of  His  Mother. 
From  her  lips  he  learnt  to  love  His  country.  The  last 
thought  of  the  Virgin's  hymn  of  joy  shows  how  the 
young  girl  of  Nazareth  loved  her  fatherland.  Her  soul 
magnified  the  Lord,  because  He,  remembering  His 
m.ercy,  had  holpen  His  servant  Israel,  as  He  promised 
to  our  forefathers,  to  Abraham  and  his  seed  for  ever. 
Patriotism  passed  from  the  mother  into  the  son.  Once 
aroused  within  His  heart,  it  rose  far  beyond  her  teach- 
ing, expanding  to  meet  the  infinite  proportions  of  His 
Being,  but  its  germ  was  stirred  to  life  by  the  influences 
of  home. 

And  here  we  meet  not  only  the  general  influence  of 
home  life,  but  a  particular  influence  which  bore  uj)on 
His  childhood  and  His  youth — the  influence  of  His 
mother's  character.  It  has  been  said  '  that  it  is  almost 
unnatural  to  ask,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  inform- 
ation respecting  the  childhood  of  Jesus  ;  that  as  it  is 
mothers  who  supply  the  stories  of  their  children's  his- 
tory, so  the  source  of  the  early  history  of  Jesus  was  un- 
doubtedly Mary.'  It  is  probable  that  she  is  referred  to 
as -the  authority,  when  we  are  told  in  my  text  that  Mary 
'kept  all  these  things,  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart.' 
Indeed  the  colourino:  is  altofrether  feminine.  The  memories 
are  those  of  a  woman ;  and  besides  this  there  is  in  all 
these  stories  such  an  unapproachable  gracefulness,  quiet 
loveableness,  and  holy  solemnity,  that  we  refer  them  at 


104     ^^^  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

once  to  the  Yirgin  who  sang  the  hymn  of  joy,  to  the- 
Mother  whose  heart  a  sword  had  pierced. 

How  else,  then,  but  in  patriotism  did  Mary's  cha- 
racter influence  the  development  of  Christ?  First, 
through  her  reverence  for  the  mind  of  her  Child.  When 
He  came  home  from  that  scene  in  the  Temple,  so  strange 
to  the  curious  love  of  a  Mother  who  had  lived  a  peaceful 
village  life,  we  gather  from  the  text  that  she  did  not 
force  her  way  with  curiosity  into  the  holy  of  holies  of 
a  human  soul.  '  She  kept  all  these  things,  and  pondered 
them  in  her  heart.'  But  the  reverence  was  not  all  on 
one  side.  We  are  told  that  the  Saviour  ^  was  subject  to  * 
His  parents.  There  was,  then,  a  mutual  respect.  This  it 
was  which  made  love  so  lasting.  For  there  is  no  perma- 
nency of  love  but  that  which  is  based  on  mutual  rever- 
ence. That  affection  is  the  highest  ^  which  is  mingled 
of  two  feelings — love  which  attracts,  veneration  which 
repels.'  Mary  respected  the  reserve  of  her  Child ;  made 
no  demand  on  the  mysteries  of  His  heart,  used  no  authority 
to  force  Him  to  disclose  His  thoughts,  and  in  so  doing 
stirred  to  life  in  His  heart  the  seeds  which  produced  in 
His  manhood  reverence  for  the  souls  of  others.  For  if 
there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  which  marks  the 
ministr}''  of  Christ  among  men,  it  is  this — reverence  for 
the  human  soul.  Startlingly  different  in  this  from  •  the 
teaching  of  many  of  our  modern  doctors,  He  seems  never 
to  have  believed  in  the  entire  wickedness  of  any  one, 
except  perhaps  in  that  of  the  religious  bigot  who  con- 
demned others  bitterly  because  of  his  own  hypocrisy. 
The  doctrine  of  '  total  depravity '  was  unknown  to 
Christ.     Everywhere   He   believed   not   in   the  vileness, 


Influences  of  Home.  105 

but  in  the  greatness  of  tlie  human  soul ;  and  He  called 
forth  in  men,  by  this  trust  in  them,  a  conviction  of  their 
immortality,  a  longing  for  a  nobler  life,  a  sense  of  their 
degradation  and  death  as  long  as  they  sinned,  a  con- 
viction of  the  glory  and  beauty  of  holiness.  He  saw  in 
the  publican  whom  all  men  shunned  the  germ  of  an 
honest  life.  He  believed  in  it,  and  it  grew  and  bloomed 
into  spiritual  beauty.  He  saw  in  the  fallen  woman, 
whom  the  proud  Pharisee  thought  had  defiled  his  house, 
a  spark  of  the  Divine  love.  He  believed  in  it,  and  it 
was  quickened  into  a  holy  flame.  In  the  most  ignorant 
and  lost  He  saw  the  children  of  His  Father,  the  citizens 
of  heaven.  As  the  artist's  shaping  imagination  beholds 
within  the  unhewn  block  of  moss-stained  marble  the 
form  and  loveliness  of  the  statue  he  has  already  created, 
and  will  now  embody,  so  Christ  saw  in  the  most  degraded 
soul  a  '  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost '  with  capacities  for 
infinite  progress,  with  powers  for  noble  work,  with  pos- 
sibilities for  perfect  holiness.  Eeverencing,  then,  the 
human  soul  above  all  things,  it  mattered  little  to  Him 
whether  He  dined  with  the  rich  Pharisee,  or  entered  the 
cottage  of  the  outcast.  The  immortal  dweller  in  the  body 
was  the  object  of  His  love,  and  it  was  nothing  to  Him 
whether  it  dwelt  in  prince  or  working  man,  in  the  moral 
Pharisee  or  the  immoral  harlot ;  wherever  it  was,  it  was 
worthy  of  His  reverence,  and  the  object  of  His  work.  He 
devoted  Himself  to  its  deliverance  from  those  who  usurped 
within  it  the  righteous  rule  of  God.  In  deep  veneration 
for  the  image  of  God  which  it  presented  to  His  eyes,  He 
restored  it  to  its  ancient  beauty. 

Lastly.     The  meditative  character  of  Mary  influenced 


io6      The  Development  of  Christ  thro2cgh  the 

the  character  of  Christ.  That  is,  her  character  did  not 
create  this  faculty  in  His  mind,  but  brought  it  forth  into 
distinctness,  aided  in  its  development.  '  She  kept  all 
these  things,  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart,'  till  the 
time  for  action  and  for  speech  had  come.  It  was  long, 
long  before  she  revealed  to  any  one  the  message  of  the 
angel.  Her  silence  is,  next  to  that  of  Christ's,  the  most 
remarkable  thing  in  this  history.  She  was  a  woman  of 
quiet  thought,  of  solitary  prayer,  of  tacit  power.  It  is  im- 
possible to  get  rid  of  the  belief  that  this  had  its  natural 
influence  on  the  development  of  the  human  nature  of 
Christ.  We  see  at  least  that  in  the  highest  and  noblest 
way  our  Saviour's  life  embodied  this  strength  of  waiting, 
this  silence  of  growth,  this  love  of  lonely  meditation. 
Those  thirty  years  of  hidden  stillness,  those  forty  days  of 
solitary  thought  within  the  wilderness,  what  lessons  do 
they  not  both  contain  ! 

When  the  turmoil  of  conflicting  parties,  the  noise  of 
controversy,  and  the  babble  of  slander  had  wearied  His 
sacred  heart,  He  went  away  into  the  mountain  solitudes 
to  God_,  and  on  the  rocks  of  Hermon,  or  in  the  deserts  of 
Perea,  or  on  the  waves  and  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
entered  into  the  silence  of  deep  communion  with  His 
Father.  Even  in  the  midst  of  active  life  there  seems  ever 
to  have  been  within  Him  a  second  inward  life  of  medi- 
tation. The  awful  sorrow  of  the  world,  the  vast  extent 
of  His  work,  the  illimitable  results  which  were  to  flow 
from  it,  were  with  Him  ceaselessly  as  thoughts.  *I 
have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ;  how  am  I  straitened 
till  it  be  accomplished  !  '  '  The  work  which  my  Father 
hath  given  me  to  do_,  shall  I  not  do  it  ? '     *  Other  sheep  I 


Influences  of  Home.  107 

have,  wliicli  are  not  of  this  fold ;  them  also  I  must  bring.' 
These  and  many  other  expressions  which  seem  to  come 
almost  involuntarily  from  His  lips  are  hints  by  which  we 
may  comprehend  what  was  passing  in  His  secret  soul. 
We  think  too  exclusively  of  His  life  as  a  life  of  action ; 
we  should  more  and  more  try  to  realize  it  as  a  life  of 
thought. 

From  all  this  learn  some  large  lessons.  Seek  to 
develope  yourselves  slowly,  steadily,  believing  that  God 
has  given  you  a  work  to  do  in  the  world.  Do  not  be  in 
a  hurry  to  seize  on  life.  The  man  who  believes  in  Grod 
and  in  himself  does  not  make  haste.  Do  not  rush  rashly 
out  of  the  Nazareth  in  which  you  may  be  placed,  even 
though  thirty  years  may  pass  by  unoccupied.  The  time 
of  action  will  come  at  last,  and  your  seeming  inaction  is 
necessary  for  right  action. 

Be  not  impatient  of  obedience.  It  is  the  parent  of  the 
power  of  governing,  it  is  the  parent  of  true  self-liberty. 
Freedom  can  only  develope  itself  within  the  circle  of  law. 

And  when  you  are  called  upon  to  issue  from  your  time 
of  quiet  training  into  actual  life,  forget  not  these  two  last 
lessons — one  for  your  private  life,  one  for  your  public 
life. 

Kemember  that  some  hours  of  quietude  are  necessary 
as  a  support  of  energy — that  thought  is  the  only  true  sup- 
port'of  action. 

Remember  that  reverence  for  the  souls  and  thoughts  of 
men  whom  you  meet  is  not  only  the  way  to  redeem  them, 
but  the  way  to  conquer  them. 

To  suspect  everyone  is  the  maxim  of  the  world;  to 
reverence  every  one  is  the  principle  of  Christ. 


io8     The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 


[February  2,  1867.] 

TEE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST  THROUGH  THE 
INFLUENCES  OF  OUTWARD  NATURE. 

Luke  ii.  40. 

In  tlie  history  of  tlie  early  Church  we  meet  with  a 
sect  the  members  of  which  were  called  Ebionites,  who 
thought  the  natural  humanity  of  the  Saviour's  early  life 
unworth}^  of  a  Divine  Person,  and  who  necessarily  de- 
nied His  essential  divinity.  Hence  to  them  Christ  was, 
till  His  baptism,  a  common  man.  It  was  at  His  baptism 
that  He  received  from  God,  as  an  external  gift,  the 
consciousness  of  His  divine  mission  and  special  powers 
for  it. 

This  opinion,  which  arose  from  the  idea  that  human 
nature  is  in  its  essence  antagonistic  to  the  Divine 
nature,  appears  under  various  forms  in  the  present  day  : 
in  the  extreme  doctrine  of  the  corruption  of  human 
nature,  in  the  offence  which  is  taken  when  Christ  is 
said  to  have  been  a  working  man_,  in  the  horror  which 
is  expressed  when  Christ's  knowledge  of  the  heart  and 
His  predictive  power  are  referred  rather  to  His  perfect 
humanity  than  to  His  divinity.  So  far  as  this  tendency 
prevails  in  the  Church,  it  is  the  tendency  to  deny  the 
humanity  of  Christ ;  and  such  a  denial  is  the  worst  of 
heresies  if  we  measure  the  evil  of  a  heresy  by  the  evil 


Influences  of  Outward  Nature,  109 

results  wliicli  it  produces.  If  we  were  forced  to  choose 
between  two  half-truths,  between  believing  onty  in  the 
divinity  or  only  in  the  humanity  of  Christ,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  to  believe  only  in  His  humanity  would  be  less 
destructive  to  Christian  Kfe  and  to  Christianity  than  to 
believe  only  in  His  divinity. 

But  we  are  not  driven  into  that  dilemma.  We  do 
not  hold  the  necessary  nn worthiness  of  human  nature 
as  a  habitation  of  the  Divine.  AYe  hold,  with  the  old 
writer^  that  man  is  *  the  image  of  Gfod ;  ^  that  humanity 
in  its  purity  is  divine,  and  that  as  such,  and  in  propor- 
tion to  its  purit}^,  it  has  always  been  the  chosen  organ 
whereby  God  has  manifested  Himself  in  time.  Through 
a  long  line  of  patriarchs,  kings,  and  prophets  among 
the  Jews,  through  thousands  of  noble  creatures  among 
the  heathen  nations,  God  at  sundry  times,  and  in  divers 
manners,  has  declared  Himself  partially  to  man.  Par- 
tially and  imperfectly,  because  all  these  were  partial  and 
imperfect  men.  At  last  the  fulness  of  time  came,  and 
with  it  came  the  archetypal  Man  ;  and  in  Him  God  spoke 
unto  us  Himself  as  He  was  in  His  essential  life.  '  The 
Word  was  made  flesh.'  The  organ  was  perfect,  and  the 
Divine  nature  found  itself  perfectly  at  home.  In  Christ 
these  two  natures,  originally  one,  but  separated  in  us,  re- 
united, interpenetrated  one  another,  and  found  themselves 
One..  This  union  of  two  natures  was  not  then,  as  has 
been  too  much  conceived,  a  thing  entirely  new,  a  new 
order  of  life,  it  was  the  re-establishment  of  the  old  and 
perfect  order. 

Hence,  instead  of  looking  upon  Christ's  youth  and 
childhood,   and   His  common  life,   as  derogator}'  to  His 


no      The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

glory,  we  see  in  them  the  glorification  of  all  human 
thought  and  action  in  every  stage  of  life,  in  every  kind  of 
labour.  The  whole  of  humanity  is  penetrated  by  the 
Divine.  This  is  the  foundation-stone  of  the  Gfospel  of 
Christ.  On  it  rest  all  the  great  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
on  it  reposes  all  the  noble  practice  of  Christian  men,  and 
we  call  it — the  Incarnation. 

But  this  re-uniting  of  the  divinity  and  humanity  took 
place  in  time,  and  under  the  limitations  which  are  now 
imposed  upon  humanity.  The  Divine  Word  was  self- 
limited  on  its  entrance  into  our  nature,  in  some  such  sense 
as  our  spirit  and  our  thought  are  limited  by  union  with 
body.  Consequently,  we  should  argue  that  there  was  a 
gradual  development  of  the  person  of  Christ ;  and  this 
conclusion,  which  we  come  to  a  priori,  is  supported  by  the 
narrative  in  the  Gfospels.  "We  are  told  that  Jesus  ^  in- 
creased in  wisdom,'  that  He  '  waxed  strong  in  spirit,'  that 
He  learned  obedience,'  that  He  was  'made  perfect 
through  sufiering.' 

This  is  our  subject — the  development  of  Christ.  And 
first,  we  are  met  with  a  diflfi.culty.  The  idea  of  develop- 
ment seems  to  imply  imperfection  passing  into  perfection 
— seems  to  exclude  the  idea  of  original  perfection. 

But  there  are  two  conceivable  kinds  of  development ; 
one,  development  through  antagonism,  through  error, 
from  stage  to  stage  of  less  and  less  deficiency.  This  is 
our  development ;  but  it  is  such  because  evil  has  gained  a 
lodgment  in  our  nature,  and  we  can  only  attain  perfection 
through  contest  with  it.  But  there  is  another  kind  of 
development  conceivable,  the  development  of  a  perfect 
nature  limited  by  time.     Such   a  nature  will  always  be 


Influe^ices  of  Oictward  Nature,  1 1 1 

potentially  that  which,  it  will  become ;  i.e.  everything 
which  it  will  be  is  already  there,  but  the  development  of 
it  is  successive,  according  to  time ;  perfect  at  each  several 
stage,  but  each  stage  more  finished  than  the  last.  The 
plant  is  perfect  as  the  green  shoot  above  the  earth,  it  is  all 
it  can  be  then ;  it  is  more  perfect  as  the  creature  adorned 
with  leaves  and  branches,  and  it  is  all  it  can  be  then  ;  it 
reaches  its  full  perfection  when  the  blossom  breaks  into 
flower.  But  it  has  been  as  perfec.t  as  it  can  be  at  every 
stage  of  its  existence ;  it  has  had  no  struggle,  no  retro- 
gression ;  it  has  realized  in  an  entirely  normal  and  natural 
way,  at  each  successive  step  of  its  life,  exactly  and  fully 
that  which  a  plant  should  be. 

Such  was  the  development  of  Christ.  He  was  the 
perfect  child,  the  perfect  boy,  the  perfect  youth,  the 
perfect  flower  of  manhood.  Every  stage  of  human  life 
was  lived  in  finished  purity,  and  yet  no  stage  was 
abnormally  developed  ;  there  was  nothing  out  of  cha- 
racter in  His  life.  He  did  not  think  the  thoughts  of  a 
youth  when  a  child,  nor  feel  the  feelings  of  a  man  when 
a  youth ;  but  He  grew  freely,  nobly,  naturally,  unfolding 
all  His  powers  without  a  struggle,  in  a  completely  healthy 
progress. 

A  second  illustration  may  make  the  matter  clearer. 
The  work  of  an  inferior  artist  arrives  at  a  certain 
amount  of  perfection  through  a  series  of  failures,  which 
teach  him  where  he  is  wrong.  By  slow  correction  of 
error  he  is  enabled  to  produce  a  tolerable  picture.  Such 
is  our  development. 

The  work  of  a  man  of  genius  is  very  difierent.  He 
has  8eeny  before  he  touches  pencil,  the  finished  picture. 


112     The  Develop77ient  of  CJmst  through  the 

His  first  sketch,  contains  the  germ  of  all.  The  picture 
is  there  ;  but  the  first  sketch  is  inferior  in  finish  to  the 
next  stage,  and  that  to  the  completed  picture.  But  his 
work  is  perfect  in  its  several  stages;  not  a  line  needs 
erasure,  not  a  thought  correction ;  it  developes  into  its 
last  and  noblest  form  without  a  single  error.  Such 
was  Christ's  development — an  orderly,  faultless,  un- 
broken development,  in  which  "humanity,  freed  from  its 
unnatural  companion,  .evil,  went  forward  according  to 
its  real  nature.  It  was  the  restoration  of  humanity  to 
its  original  integrity,  to  itself,  as  it  existed  in  the  idea  of 
God. 

Having  thus  freed  our  subject  from  a  natural  objec- 
tion, we  proceed  to  speak  of  the  development  of  the 
human  character  of  the  Saviour.  First,  think  to-day 
of  His  development  through  the  influence  of  outward 
nature. 

The  scenerj^  of  Nazareth  is  known,  or  ought  to  be 
well  known,  to  you  all.  I  will  not  describe  it.  It  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  from  the  summit  of  the  hill  in 
whose  bosom  Nazareth  lay,  there  sweeps  one  of  the 
widest  and  most  varied  landscaj)es  to  be  seen  in  Pales- 
tine. It  is  impossible  to  over-estimate  the  influence 
which  this  changing  scene  of  beauty  had  upon  the  mind 
of  the  Saviour  as  a  child. 

The  Hebrew  feeling  for  nature  was  deep  and  extended. 
Nations  have  generally  many  words  for  that  which  in- 
terests them  the  most,  and,  to  take  one  example  which 
is  only  a  type  of  all,  the  Hebrew  language  has  more  than 
ten  different  words  for  different  kinds  of  rain. 

By  race,  then,  alone  the  Child  Jesus  was  prepared  to 


Influences  of  OiUward  Nahtre,  1 1 3 

feel  tlie  most  delicate  shades  of  change  in  the  aspect  of 
outward  nature.  But  as  He  was  not  only  Hebrew  but  the 
type  of  pure  humanity,  we  may,  without  attributing  to 
Him  anything  unnatural  to  childhood,  impute  to  Him  the 
subtler  feelings  which  are  stirred  in  the  western  and 
northern  races  by  the  modes  of  natural  beauty. 

Childhood  is  the  seed-time  of  the  soul,  and  the  great 
sower  of  seed  in  the  child's  heart  is  nature.  I^ow  that 
time  and  rough  contact  with  the  world  have  worn  out 
our  early  impressions,  now  that  the  light  of  common 
day  glares  upon  us  so  fiercely,  we  can  scarcely  recall 
our  childhood's  sensations  or  see  our  childhood's  visions. 
But  whatever  we  then  felt,  whatever  we  then  beheld 
when,  left  alone,  we  saw  the  '  visions  of  the  hills,'  and 
felt  the  'souls  of  lonely  places,'  and  received  from  them 
liigh  impulses  which  in  maturer  years  germinated  into 
action — or  deep  emotions  which  stirred  the  heart  uncon- 
sciously with  passions  and  with  hopes  which  became  in 
after  time  one  of  the  sources  of  our  belief  in  immortal- 
ity— whatever,  then,  our  childhood  half  perceived  and 
half  created,  was  seen  and  felt  b}"  Christ.  Whatever 
noble  intercourse  we  have  had  in  our  far-off  childhood 
with  the  enduring  beauty  of  the  world,  that  beaut}^  in 
its  recurring  freshness  so  young,  in  its  inconceivable 
age  so  dignified,  and  which,  as  such,  comes  'to  purify 
the  elements  of  feeling  and  of  thought,'  Christ  in  His 
childhood  also  possessed,  and  loved  to  possess.  What- 
ever of  '  those  hallowed  and  pure  motions  of  the  sense, 
which  seem,  in  their  simplicit}^,  to  own  an  intellectual 
charm,'  we  have  ever  in  our  j^outh  received — whatever 
*  gleams  like  the  flashing  of  a  shield '  have  come  upon 


1 14     The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

us  of  things  mysterious  and  beautiful,  not  of  earth,  but 
of  a  higher  region  in  which  the  spirit  lives  and  loves — 
were  received  and  felt  profoundly  by  Christ  our  Saviour 
as  a  child. 

But  there  must  have  been  this  difference.  To  us  they 
are  mysterious,  inexplicable,  attended  with  the  phantom, 
Fear ;  to  Him  they  came  as  guests,  as  natural  ministers, 
attended  by  the  consciousness  of  love  and  fatherhood. 
They  stirred,  they  woke,  they  fostered  His  early  feelings 
and  His  childish  thought.  We  are  conscious  of  our  home- 
lessness  in  contact  with  these  deep  impressions.  He, 
while  receiving  the  same  impressions,  was  conscious  of 
being  at  home  in  a  Father's  world. 

Ao^ain.  The  feelinsf  of  our  childhood  is  that  nature 
is  alive.  We  tread  lightly  through  the  forest,  for  we 
feel  there  is  a  '  spirit  in  the  woods.'  *  The  trees  nod  to 
us,  and  we  to  them.'  The  sea  sympathizes  with  our 
passion  and  our  calm.  The  brook,  over  its  pebbles, 
sings  to  us  a  loving  song.  Our  childhood  is  all  Greek. 
Every  fountain  has  its  indweller,  every  mountain  is  alive 
with  living  creatures,  every  oak  whispers  through  its 
leaves  of  a  living  soul  within,  and  the  breaking  music  of 
the  wave  upon  the  beach  is  the  laughter  of  the  daughters 
of  the  sea. 

But  as  we  grow  older,  we  unlearn  the  faith  of  child- 
hood ;  and  as  science  gives  to  us  its  teaching,  we  find  that 
we  can  only  explain  phenomena  on  the  supposition  that 
nature  is  not  living,  but  dead. 

But  the  fact  is  that  our  childhood  is  really  right  in 
principle,  though  wrong  in  its  application  of  the  prin- 
ciple.    Nature  is  living,  though  not  in  the  way  we  then 


Infiueiices  of  Outward  Nature.  1 1 5 

imagine.  We  fa  icy  that  we  are  moving,  tlie  only 
living  things,  in  a  dead  world ;  the  fact  is  we  are  moving, 
the  only  dead  things,  in  a  living  world.  And  there 
are  moments,  even  now,  'when  years  have  brought 
the  inevitable  yoke,'  that  we  catch  some  glimpses  of  the 
truth ;  when  we  are  freed  from  this  incubus  of  a  dead 
world,  and  realize  the  living  world  ;  when  the  old  stars 
of  our  childhood  reappear,  and  we  learn  a  deeper  lesson 
from  them  than  childhood  could  receive ;  when  the 
trees  talk  to  one  another  in  the  wood,  and  we  hear  and 
understand  their  speech ;  when  we  listen  to  the  voice  of 
the  great  deep  with  the  same  awful  jo}^  as  the  child, 
but  with  a  completer  comprehension  ;  when  the  moun- 
tains, watched  by  us  at  night,  are  not  dead  forms,  but 
gray-haired  sages,  who  sit  in  silence  waiting  for  the 
dawn.  These  do  not  speak  to  us  then  of  the  old  Greek 
humanities,  but  of  God.  We  stand  in  His  presence, 
and  the  trees  and  sea,  the  stars  and  mountains,  whisper 
to  us  that  it  is  not  they  which  exist,  but  that  invisible 
world-  of  which  they  and  their  relations  to  each  other 
are  at  once  both  form  and  sj^mbol — the  spiritual  world 
of  God's  eternal  love,  enduring  sacrifice,  ever-moving  pro- 
gress, the  calm  of  his  order,  the  rest  of  His  unopposed 
activity,  '  His  righteousness  like  the  great  mountains,  His 
judgments  like  the  deep.' 

Falling  back  to  common  life  from  such  a  momentary 
revelation,  we  feel  that  we  are  dead,  that  we  are  not 
at  one  with  the  living  Spirit  who  represents  Himself  to 
us  in  the  universe,  that  there  is  a  secret  there  we  have 
not  wit  to  penetrate,  a  life  there  we  have  not  power 
to  share.     But  miserable  as  is  the  reaction  from  such  a 

I  2 


1 1 6      The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

revelation  of  tlie  living  God,  there  is  left  behind  within 
our  hearts  a  light  of  hope.  We  should  not  be  able 
to  enter  thus,  even  for  a  moment,  behind  the  veil,  were 
not  God  resolved  to  make  us  fully  capable  of  doing  so. 
This  *  muddy  vesture  of  decay '  shall  fall  away  for  ever, 
and  we  shall  pass  from  death  to  life.  "VVe  shall  behold  for 
ever  what  we  have  seen  in  moments.  "VYe  shall  live  in  the 
spiritual  world  of  which  the  physical  is  the  appearance, 
and  see  and  feel  and  move  in  that  which  is  not  lifeless  but 
alive. 

In  such  a  world,  while  here  on  earth,  we  reverentially 
conjecture  that  the  Saviour  moved.  He  learned  to 
see,  in  childhood,  the  spiritual  world  beneath  the  phy- 
sical. The  phenomena  of  nature  and  their  relations 
awoke  in  His  heart  the  germs  of  those  spiritual  realities 
of  which  they  are  the  symbols.  They  impressed  His 
senses  with  their  beauty ;  but  they  also  made  His  spirit 
conscious  of  the  divine  principles  of  Being.  Hence  He 
gradually  became  at  home  with  the  spirit  of  the  universe, 
and  knew  that  it  was  living.  That  which  comes  to 
us  at  instants  only  was  His  daily  life.  Listen  to  His 
conversation,  mark  His  parables.  Do  not  we  hear  in 
phrases  like  these,  *  I  am  the  true  vine,'  '  Consider  the 
lilies  of  the  field,'  &c.,  and  in  parables  like  that  of  the 
sower;  the  kingdom  of  heaven  like  the  mustard- seed ; 
like  the  seed  sown  in  the  earth  which  grew  up,  no  man 
knew  how ;  in  the  likeness  of  Himself  to  the  dying  seed, 
which  died  to  produce  life  ;  the  note  of  some  concealed 
harmony,  the  possession  of  some  deeper  secret,  which 
made  the  outward  world  to  Him  the  image  of  a  living 
spiritual  world  ? 


Influences  of  Outward  Nahcre,  1 1 7 

Yes ;'  He  possessed  tlie  life  in  wliicli  we  are  defective. 
He  grew  up  from  cliildliood  seeing  the  invisible,  hear- 
ing the  unheard,  feeling  the  inconceivable.  The  life  of 
God  in  nature  awoke  into  conscious  being  the  life  of 
God  which  was  within  Him.  The  truths  of  God  were 
borne  in  upon  His  childhood  through  the  influence  of 
nature,  and  they  found  in  Him  not  opposition  as  they 
find  in  us,  not  a  darkness  which  cannot  comprehend 
them.  They  found  themselves  in  germ,  they  touched 
these  germs,  and  at  the  touch  the  seeds  awoke  to  life, 
grew  into  ideas,  and  became  consciously  the  property  of 
the  child.  So  swiftly  did  they  develope  their  being,  that, 
waxing  strong  in  spirit.  He  could  at  twelve  years  old 
realize  His  mission  and  His  work,  and  wonder  that  others 
were  astonished  that  He  should  be  about  His  Father's 
business. 

This  is  something,  as  I  conceive  it,  of  the  development 
of  Christ  through  the  influence  of  nature. 

On  all  this,  one  inference.  We  have  supposed  in 
what  we  have  said  that  Christ  in  the  humanity  of  child- 
hood became  conscious,  through  nature,  of  what  we  call 
natural  religion.  The  verj^  shock  which  this  phrase  of 
mine  will  give  to  some  in  this  congregation,  and  the 
instinctive  feeling  of  reluctance  with  which  I  speak  it, 
lead  me  to  the  thing  I  wish  to  saj^.  Some  things  shock 
us  because  we  have  been  educated  to  think  other- 
wise! Some  things  shock  us  because  they  injure  the 
moral  sense.  It  is  custom  only  which  is  shocked  in 
this  case. 

I  believe  that  in  our  ardour  for  spiritual  religion  we 
have   neglected   too   much   the    religion   which    springs 


1 1 8      The  Development  of  CIndst  through  the 

from  nature.  Spiritual  religion  alone,  leaves  part  of 
our  nature  unsatisfied — all  that  large  region  of  imagin- 
ation and  feelings  wliich  are  kindled  into  awe  and  joy 
by  the  influences  of  natural  beauty,  by  the  activity  and 
change,  by  the  passion  and  calm  of  nature.  The  poets 
have  seized  on  this  region  and  made  it  their  own,  and 
it  might  be  called  the  region  of  natural  poetry.  It  has 
lost  its  true  name,  which  is  the  region  of  the  religion 
of  nature.  It  is  considered  as  the  realm  in  which 
beauty,  and  sublimity,  and  a  hundred  other  abstrac- 
tions are  revealed ;  it  has  ceased,  practically,  to  be 
considered  as  the  realm  in  which  Grod  is  revealed.  We 
confine  the  revelation  of  Grod  to  the  spiritual  truths 
disclosed  in  Christianity.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  that  is  a  great  practical  mistake.  There  are  two 
books  of  revelation — the  book  of  nature  and  the  book 
of  God's  speech  to  man's  spirit.  When  the  latter  suc- 
ceeded the  former,  it  did  not  intend  to  push  the  religion 
derived  from  nature  away  for  ever,  but  to  supplement 
it.  Both  were  to  be  retained  by  us,  only  one  naturally 
was  to  be  higher  than  the  other.  But  the  overwhelm- 
ing importance  given  to  spiritual  religion  has  removed 
out  of  the  sphere  of  our  religious  thought  the  religion  of 
nature. 

Consequently,  the  study  of  nature  bv  scientific  men, 
and  the  contemplation  of  nature  by  poetic  men,  have 
both  become  irreligious.  There  is  no  living  God  within 
the  world  to  many  scientific  men.  They  see  only  a 
rigid  chain  of  antecedents  and  sequences.  And  the 
poet,  and  those  who  live  in  the  poetic  atmosphere, 
shudder  at  the  thought   of  the   dead  world  which   the 


Influences  of  Outward  Nature.  119 

exclusive  insistance  on  spiritual  religion  has  forced  them 
to  contemplate,  and  sometimes,  carried  away  by  their 
passion,  wish,  for  the  moment,  that  they  were  once  more 
at  home  in  that  old  Greek  religion  where  the  world  was  a 
li^-ing  world.  There  are  times  when  we  cannot  but  sym- 
pathize with  Schiller's  passionate  cry  in  his  hymn  to  the 
gods  of  Greece.  And  who  has  not  felt  what  Wordsworth 
meant  (and  he  cannot  be  accused  of  want  of  Christianity), 
when,  rather  than  be  so  out  of  tune  with  nature,  he  wished 

to  be 

A  Pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn  ; 

So  might  I,  standing  on  tliis  pleasant  lea, 
Have  glimpses  that  might  make  me  less  forlorn. 

What  does  this  mean  ?  Surely  we  are  to  find  the 
answer,  not  in  the  destructive  influence  of  Christianity  on 
the  imagination,  but  rather  in  our  neglect  of  that  religion 
of  nature  which  Christianity  was  to  take  into  itself,  and 
not  to  overthrow.  The  tendency  for  centuries,  I  repeat, 
both  of  science  and  of  spiritual  religion,  exclusively  insisted 
on,  has  been  to  make  nature  godless,  to  take  away  the 
light  and  joy,  the  beauty  and  the  harmony  of  our  life  with 
nature. 

Brethren,  it  should  not  be  so.  While  clinging  fast  to 
Christianity  as  the  life  of  the  spirit,  we  should  recover 
the  ancient  natural  religion  which  saw  in  mountains  and 
forests,  in  the  changing  beauty  of  the  heavens  above,  and 
in  •  the  varied  loveliness  of  the  earth  below,  the  revela- 
tion of  the  movement  and  life  and  beauty  of  the  living 
God. 

There  is  no  need  of  a  return  to  Greek  conceptions,  but 
there  is  much  need  among   us   of  a   retiu-n  to  the  old 


I20     The  Developrneiit  of  Christ  through  the 

Jewisli  conceptions  wliicli  we  have  forgotten.  The  Psalm- 
ists were  not  Greeks,  and  yet  we  never  find  them  use  the 
mournful  cry  of  modern  poetry. 

To  them  nature  was  not  dead,  but  peopled  with  the  life 
of  Deity.  The  light  was  the  garment  of  the  living. God, 
the  clouds  were  His  chariot.  The  wind  was  winged, 
and  in  its  swift  approach  there  walked  Jehovah.  He 
caused  the  grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains.  He 
planted  the  cedars  of  Libanus.  The  deep  places  of  the 
earth  were  in  His  hand,  the  sea  sang  His  praise,  \hQ 
floods  clapped  their  hands,  and  the  hills  were  joyful 
together  before  the  Lord.  The  heavens  declared  His 
glorj^,  and  \h.Q  voice  of  the  thunder  was  the  voice  of  the 
Lord. 

It  is  exquisitely  sad  to  think  how  much  we  have  lost  of 
this.  Science  comes  and  gives  us  an  explanation  which 
kills  the  livingness  in  the  wind  and  the  joy  in  the  sea  ; 
and,  worse  far  than  this,  '  the  world  is  too  much  with  us,' 
and,  'getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers.' 
AYe  are  groping  in  the  dust  of  the  exchange  or  wearying 
our  imagination  for  new  pleasures.  The  season  is  coming 
on,  and,  driven  by  energies  and  aspirations,  the  true  end 
of  which  we  blind  our  hearts  to,  we  shall  exhaust  enthu- 
siasm and  spend  our  noblest  passions  in  things  and  scenes 
which,  to  say  the  least  of  them,  are  utterly  divided  from 
all  natural  existence,  and  out  of  it  all,  at  the  end,  we 
shall  come  jaded  and  worn,  with  energies  exhausted  and 
feelings  ragged  with  weariness,  and  go  off  to  recruit  in 
the  country ;  as  if,  in  tliat  condition,  the  country  had 
anything  to  say  to  us.  For  who  sees  God  in  the  stars, 
or  hears  His  voice  in  the   wind,  in  the  full  rush  of  a 


Influences  of  Outward  Naticre.  121 

London  season  ?     We  are  killing  in  us  all  the  religion  of 
nature. 

He  does  tlie  same  evil  to  himself — I  speak  without  fear 
of  being  misunderstood — who  shuts  himself  up  in  the 
dreary  kingdom  of  a  dry  theology,  or  who  morbidh^  broods 
upon  his  own  spiritual  state,  or  who  reads  of  his  God 
only  in  the  pages  of  a  printed  book.  We  are  not  all 
spirit ;  we  are  heart,  imagination,  feelings,  and  these 
demand  their  food. 

0  brethren !  add  to  the  spiritual  revelation  of  God  in 
Christ  the  Man,  the  revelation  of  God  in  Nature.  Let 
the  living  Being  who  speaks  in  the  universe  share  in 
your  development.  Open  your  heart  to  the  ceaseless  tide 
of  influence  which  streams  in  upon  it  from  the  world  of 
nature  ;  and  believe  me,  if  you  are  a  child  of  science,  your 
scientific  acumen  will  be  none  the  worse  for  feeling  that 
there  is  another  world  in  nature  than  that  which  your 
methods  reveal  to  you — a  world  which  appeals  not  to  the 
intellect,  but  to  the  heart  and  the  spirit,  the  world  in 
which  the  ancient  Jew  saw  God,  and  wherein  we  may  see, 
if  we  have  eyes,  the  Lord  God  walking  in  the  garden  in 
the  cool  of  the  day.  If  with  one  part  of  my  nature  I 
have  measured  the  speed  and  the  orbit  of  a  comet,  am  I 
the  worse  if  with  another  I  see  in  the  wanderer  of  sjDace 
the  mystery  of  God's  nature  and  the  wonder  of  His  order  ? 
If  with  my  intellect  I  analyze  the  light,  am  I  the  worse 
if  with  my  heart  I  behold  in  it  the  Light  of  the  character 
of  God? 

1  am  the  better,  on  the  contrary,  inasmuch  as  I  have 
got  a  more  varied  and  a  larger  view.  I  allot  to  each  con- 
ception its  own  sphere,  but  I  maim  my  nature  if  I  allow 


122      The  Development  of  Christ  through  the 

one  sphere  to  eclipse  tlie  other.  Keep  your  scientific  con- 
ceptions clear,  keep  them  apart  from  all  confusion  with 
the  feelings  of  religion,  or  with  the  play  of  the  imagina- 
tion, but  do  not  forget  to  feed  your  imagination  and  to 
feed  your  spirit  with  their  natural  food,  for  it  is  this  for- 
getfulness  which  tends  to  make  scientific  men  what  they 
sometimes  are,  monsters  of  abnormal  intellectual  develop- 
ment. 

Once  more,  let  not  the  spiritual  man  despise  or  ignore 
this  religion  derived  from  nature.  We  have  shown  what 
evil  this  has  done.  It  has  left  the  world  of  nature  with- 
out a  God,  it  has  made  it  lifeless — in  modern  poetry 
especially,  only  the  reflex  of  our  humanity ;  in  science, 
only  a  circle  of  continuous  force,  for  ever  returning  upon 
itself.  We  are  bound  to  restore  God  to  our  conception  of 
nature.  We  are  bound  to  make  use  of  all  the  feelings 
which  are  kindled  by  beauty  of  sight  or  beauty  of  sound, 
to  teach  our  children  those  great  fundamental  conceptions 
of  God  which  the  fathers  of  the  world  possessed,  and 
which  the  ancient  heathen  asserted  under  the  false  forms 
of  polytheism.  This  religion  of  nature  preceded  spiritual 
religion,  and  was  its  preparation.  It  is  unwise  to  de- 
^stroy  the  stage  by  which  we  were  fitted  to  enter  on  the 
higher  stage.  It  is  unwise,  in  the  education  of  our 
children,  to  neglect  the  historical  order.  God  educated 
the  childhood  of  the  world  through  the  religion  of 
nature;  if  what  we  have  said  be  true,  Christ  passed 
through  the  same  training.  We  ought  to  educate  our 
children  at  first  in  natural  religion ;  they  will  then 
gradually  and  naturally  pass  on  with  us  to  the  loftier 


Influences  of  Outward  Nature.  1 23 

And  we  ourselves,  looking  back  from  our  spiritual 
realm  of  thought,  and  with  its  added  knowledge,  will  be 
able  to  gain  new  thoughts  and  exalting  feelings  from 
our  contemplation  of  the  outward  world  of  God — feelings 
which  will  supplement  and  fill  up  that  which  is  deficient 
in  our  spiritual  experience,  thoughts  which  will  add  force 
and  reality  to  our  spiritual  principles.  For  having 
gained  the  Spirit  of  Christ  through  the  higher  revela- 
tion, we  shall  have  our  eyes  opened  to  see  His  Spirit 
also  in  the  revelation  of  creation.  We  shall  see  in  the 
involuntary  death  of  things  to  produce  new  forms  of 
life,  His  spirit  of  sacrifice,  who  died  for  us  that  we  might 
live  ;  in  Nature's  quiet  order,  His  rest  upon  His  Father's 
fidelity ;  in  Nature's  uncomplaining  labour,  which  ceases 
not  for  ever,  His  Spirit  whose  meat  and  drink  it  was  to 
do  His  Father's  wiR  and  to  finish  His  work  ;  in  all  the 
principles  of  Nature's  life  the  principles  of  the  life  of 
Christ. 

Thus,  finally,  in  our  daily  existence  these  two  great 
religions,  each  appealing  to  two  portions  of  our  nature, 
will  be  interwoven  together  into  an  harmonious  whole, 
each  supplementing  and  strengthening  the  other,  till 
under  their  teaching  we  develope  ourselves  and  our 
children  in  a  manner  more  closely  in  union  with  the 
development  of  the  Perfect  Man, 


124     1^^^^  Intellechcal  Developme^tt  of  Christ, 


[Feb.  9,  1867.] 

TEE  INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST, 
Luke  ii.  52. 

The  subject  on  which  we  are  employed  is  the  develop- 
ment of  Christ.  Seeing  that  the  term  is  challengeable, 
I  attempted  to  explain  last  Sunday,  when  treating  of  the 
Saviour's  development  in  childhood  through  the  influ- 
ence of  outward  nature,  the  meaning  which  I  attached 
to  it  in  reference  to  Him.  Before  I  proceed  to  speak 
of  His  intellectual  development,  which  is  our  subject 
for  this  morning,  I  repeat  in  other  words  the  distinc- 
tion I  made  between  our  development  and  His.  We, 
being  defective  in  nature,  are  developed  through  error. 
By  slow  correction  of  mistakes,  we  arrive  at  intellectual, 
by  slow  correction  of  faults  at  morale  excellence.  But 
it  is  quite  possible  to  conceive  the  entirely  natural  de- 
velopment of  Christ's  perfect  nature,  limited  by  time ; 
the  development,  as  it  were,  of  a  fountain  into  a  river, 
perfect  as  the  fountain,  but  not  more  than  the  fountain 
as  a  child;  perfect  as  the  rivulet,  but  not  more  than 
the  rivulet  as  a  boy ;  perfect  as  the  stream,  but  not 
more  than  the  stream  as  a  youth  ;  and  perfect  as  the 
majestic  river  as  a  man.  At  each  stage  greater  than  at 
the  last,  more  developed,  but  as  perfect  as  possible  to 
nature  at  each ;  and  as  the  water  of  the  fountain,  rivulet, 


The  Intellecttial  Development  of  Christ.     125 

stream,  and  river  is  the  same  througliout,  self- supplied, 
perennial  in  its  source  and  flowing,  so  was  it  with  the 
nature  of  Christ,  and  with  His  growth. 

The  intellectual  development  of  Chrid  is  then  our  sub- 
ject. We  derive  the  term  from  the  words,  'He  increased 
in  wisdom/  But  before  we  begin,  I  must  ask  you  to 
bear  in  mind  throughout  this  principle — All  outward 
influences  did  not  give  anything  to  Christ ;  they  awoke 
and  presented  to  His  consciousness  that  which  was  already 
there  in  germ. 

The  first  hint  which  we  receive  of  this  intellectual 
development  is  the  story  of  His  journey  to  Jerusalem. 
TVe  find  Him  in  the  Temple  listening  and  asking 
questions  of  the  doctors ;  or,  in  other  words,  exhibiting 
Himself  as  possessed  of  the  two  first  necessities  for  in-^ 
tellectual  development — engrossed  attention  and  eager\ 
curiosity. 

Now  what  were  the  steps  by  which  we  may  rcA^erently 
conjecture  the  Divine  Child  had  arrived  at  this  kindling 
of  the  intellect,  and  how  did  these  several  steps  afiect  His 
character  ? 

Last  Sunday  we  endeavoured  to  represent  Him  as 
stirred  by  the  outward  scenery  of  nature  to  recognize 
what  was  within  Himself,  and  as  recognizing  in  nature 
not  the  dead  and  lifeless  world,  as  we  conceive  it,  but  a 
living  world,  beneath  whose  outward  forms  lay  spiritual 
realities. 

Now  communion  with  nature  intensifies  the  desire  of 
communion  with  man.  And  it  seems  to  me  impossible 
to  deny  that  He  who  afterwards,  even  in  His  most 
solemn  hours,  on  the  mount  of  Transfiguration  and  in 


126      The  Intellectical  Developmait  of  Christ, 

the  garden  of  GetKsemane,  sought  and  surrounded 
Himself  with  the  sympathy  of  His  three  favourite  dis- 
ciples^ did  not  also  as  a  child  seek  for  human  sym- 
pathy to  share  with  Him  His  childhood's  delight  in  the 
beauty  and  solemnity  of  nature.  Hence  there  was 
strengthened  in  Him  love  of  man  arising  from  love  of 
nature ;  there  was  quickened  in  Him  desire  of  social 
communion,  desire  of  seeing  His  own  thought  reflected 
by  other  minds,  desire  of  knowing  what  other  beings 
than  Himself  both  knew  and  thought  and  did  in  the 
world. 

There  was  not  much  to  gratify  these  desires  in  Naza- 
reth. We  know  the  character  of  the  place,  and  the 
Holy  Child  must  even  then  have  felt  the  first  keen  stings 
of  that  agonj^  for  the  sin  of  the  world  which  made  Him 
as  man  die  to  redeem  the  world.  Moreover,  a  remote 
and  petty  village  could  supply  but  little  food  to  His 
awakened  and  craving  intellect.  He  had  soon  assimi- 
lated all  He  could  find  there  of  the  elements  necessary 
to  develope  His  mental  powers.  I  can  conceive  Him,  I 
trust  without  irreverence,  eagerly  looking  forward  to 
the  day  when  He  should  accompany  His  parents  to 
Jerusalem  ;  not  unduly  excited,  not  impatient,  but  nobly 
curious  to  see  human  life  concentrated  in  one  of  its 
great  centres,  to  watch  the  movement  and  the  variety  of 
the  crowd  of  many  nations  who  poured  into  Jerusalem  at 
the  Feast  of  the  Passover. 

At  last  the  hour  came,  and  with  the  '  quiet  independ- 
ence of  heart '  which  He  had  secured  through  still 
communion  with  nature,  with  the  deep  desire  of  know- 
ing men,  and  with  a  deep  sense  of  child-like  repose  on 


The  Intellectual  Development  of  Christ,      127 

God,  the  Boy,  Christ  Jesus,  set  forth  with  His  company 
from  Nazareth.  No  doubt,  according  to  pious  Jewish 
practice,  He  had  been  instructed  in  the  history  of  His 
people,  and  now,  what  thoughts  were  His  as  for  the  first 
time  He  saw  the  interior  of  Palestine,  the  Jordan  rolling 
deep  between  its  banks,  the  savage  landscape  of  the 
eastern  desert !  There  was  not  a  spot  along  the  route 
which  was  not  dignified  by  some  association,  or  hallowed 
by  some  great  name. 

Whatever  we  in  youth  have  felt — for  life  wears  out 
the  keenness  of  receptiveness — when  we  have  stood 
upon  some  spot  made  glorious  in  our  country's  history, 
whatever  thrill  of  high  emotion  or  rush  of  noble  impulse 
has  then  come  upon  us,  and  swept  us  out  of  our  narrow 
sphere  of  childish  interests  into  the  wide  region  of 
interests  which  cluster  round  the  words  '  our  country 
and  its  heroes/  came  then,  we  may  be  •  sure,  upon  the 
Child.  A  larger  horizon  of  thought  opened  before  Him. 
The  heroic  past  of  Israel  became  a  reality.  The  sight 
of  places  where  noble  deeds  w^ere  done  made  the  deeds 
themselves  real.  And  not  only  the  deeds,  but  also  the 
men ;  for  in  the  years  gone  by  Hebrew  men  had  here 
done  and  suffered  greatly.  Here  was  their  theatre ; 
this  was  Jordan ;  there  was  Jericho  ;  there  David  had 
passed  by;  there  Jacob  had  set  up  his  rugged  pillow. 
At  once,  localized,  impersonated  by  the  landscape,  the 
men  of  Israel  became  real  living  personages,  the  past 
was  crowded  with  moving  forms,  and  History  was 
born  in  the  intellect  of  Christ.  The  impression  must 
have  deepened  in  Him  as  He  entered  Jerusalem.  He 
must    have   felt   in   heart    and   soul    the   shock   of    the 


12  8      The  httellectual  Development  of  Christ. 

great  town's  first  presence.  He  could  not  walk  un- 
moved among  tlie  streets,  so  vocal  with,  tlie  fame  of 
Solomon,  the  patriotic  enthusiasm  of  Isaiah,  the  sorrow 
and  the  passion  of  Jeremiah.  The  stones  of  the  walls 
spoke  to  Him,  the  gates  replied — and  when  first  He 
saw  the  mighty  mass  of  the  great  Temj)le  flashing  white 
in  the  sunlight  upon  its  uplifted  rock,  what  a  thrill  ! — a 
thrill  of  that  fine  excitement,  half  of  sense  and  half  of 
soul,  which  is  almost  a  ph3^sical  pain,  and  out  of  which 
springs  more  creative  thought  than  comes  afterwards 
to  a  man  in  a  year  of  that  *  set  gray  life  '  of  work  which 
we  know  so  well  in  London.  These  are  the  impressions 
which  kindle  latent  intellect,  which  abide  with  us  as 
living  things  within  the  brain,  engendering  the  life 
of  thought ;  and  if  ice,  cold  northern  natures,  have 
felt  these  things  in  our  childhood,  and  at  a  younger  age 
than  Christ  was  now,  how  must  an  Oriental  child  of 
genius  (to  assume  for  a  moment  a  ground  which  the 
destructive  critics  will  not  deny)  have  felt  their  power  on 
His  intellect  ? 

Look  at  another  point. 

As  He  drew  near  to  Jerusalem  in  this  journey,  various 
troops  of  pilgrims  must  have  joined  their  company.  He 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  great  diversity  of  the  human 
race.  Accustomed  to  one  type  alone  at  Nazareth,  and 
that  a  limited  type — for  Nazareth  was  an  outlying  vil- 
lage ;  and  a  somewhat  degraded  type,  for  Nazareth  had 
a  bad  reputation — He  was  now  brought  into  contact  with 
many  types  of  men. 

The  same  kind  of  result,  we  may  conjecture,  was 
produced  upon  His  intellect  as  is  produced  when  a  boy 


The  Intellectual  Development  of  Christ.     129 

is  first  sent  out  of  tlie  narrow  circle  of  home  into  ttie 
varied  human  life  of  a  public  school.  The  impression 
which  is  then  made  upon  the  intellect  of  a  boy  is  one 
of  the  most  productive  which  he  receives  in  life.  The 
impression  made  upon  the  mind  of  Christ  must  have 
been  of  equal  depth  at  least,  probably  far  greater ;  for, 
first,  we  know  from  His  after  life  that  His  intellect  was 
of  the  mightiest  character,  and  secondty,  the  variety 
which  met  Him  was  greater  than  that  with  which  an 
English  boy  is  brought  into  contact.  Thus  it  was  not 
only  the  realization  of  the  past  through  the  power  of 
association  which  stirred  His  intellect ;  it  was  also  stirred 
by  the  contact  with  the  varied  national  and  individual 
life  of  the  present. 

And  then  there  was  that  wonderful  Jerusalem  in  front 
where  all  this  variety  of  life  was  now  concentrated. 
"Wliat  wonder  if  the  pure,  high-hearted  Child,  with 
eager  thoughts  beginning  to  move,  looked  forward  with 
intellectual  enthusiasm  to  His  arrival  among  the  throng 
of  men? 

More  and  more,  it  is  plain,  the  vast  idea  of  Humanity 
must  have  unfolded  itself  within  Him  during  the  jour- 
ney.  Then  came,  to  complete  and  fix  this  idea,  the 
rush  and  confusion  of  the  great  multitude  in  Jerusalem 
during  the  Feast — men  of  every  nation  under  heaven  in 
the  streets  ;  strange  dresses,  strange  faces.  There  was 
the  Roman  soldier,  grave,  and  bearing  in  his  face  the 
stamp  of  law  and  sacrifice ;  there  was  the  acute  Greek 
countenance,  the  heavy  Egyptian  features,  the  volup- 
tuous lip  and  subtle  glance  of  the  Persian,  the  wild  Arab 


130      The  Intellectual  Development  of  Christ, 

eyes ;  every  face  was  a  mystery,  and  the  greatest  mystery 
of  all  was  the  wonderful  world  of  men. 

What  kindles  thought  like  this  ? — the  first  rush 
upon  the  brain  of  the  idea  of  the  diversity  of  hu- 
manity. 

It  is  an  idea  naturally  conceived  by  a  boy.  "VVe  do  not 
impute  to  Christ,  at  this  time,  the  thoughts  which  arise 
from  it,  too  numerous  to  mention.  But  we  find  it  here 
in  its  origin,  and  in  the  silent  time  to  come  in  Nazareth  it 
worked  in  His  intellect,  producing  its  fruit  of  thought 
from  year  to  year.  Do  we  trace  it  in  His  ministry? 
*  Other  sheep  I  have  which  are  not  of  this  fold ;  them  also 
I  must  bring.'  'Man}^  shall  come  from  the  East  and 
West.'  '  Go  3^e  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel 
to  every  creature.' 

There  is  another  intellect-awakening  thought  corre- 
lative to  this  of  the  diversity  of  humanity,  which  I  cannot 
but  think  was  first  stirred  now  in  the  mind  of  Christ — the 
thought  of  the  unity  of  the  race. 

There  was  one  spirit  predominant  in  all  the  pilgrims 
to  the  Feast.  They  came  up  to  Jerusalem,  diverse  as 
they  were,  inspired  b}^  one  thought,  to  perform  one  com- 
mon worship),  in  one  place,  to  one  God.  It  was  the  form 
in  which  the  national  unity  of  the  Jewish  people  had 
been  of  old  embodied.  But  now,  hundreds  of  other 
nations  had  received  the  Jewish  religion  as  proselytes. 
Christ,  therefore,  saw  not  only  the  Jews  but  Gentiles 
united  by  the  worship  of  a  universal  God.  We  do  not  say 
that  He  clearly  conceived  the  thought  of  the  oneness  of 
humanity  at  the  age  of  twelve — it  was  probably  too  large 
for  His  normal  development — but  we  do  say  that  there  is 


The  hitellcctual  Development  of  Christ.     131 

nothing  unnatural  in  believing  tliat  the  germ  of  it  was 
then  first  quickened  into  life.  JN^ow  there  are  few 
thoughts  which  more  than  this  promote  intellectual  de- 
velo23ment.  We  ma}^  imagine  it  slowly  growing  into 
fulness  during  the  maturing  years  at  Nazareth,  till  at  last 
it  altered  its  form  and  became  personal.  This  unity  of 
humanity,  so  broken,  so  imj)erfect — this  great  idea — 
where  is  it  realized  perfectly  ?  And  out  of  the  depths  of 
Christ's  divine  and  human  consciousness  came  the  answer. 
It  is  realized  in  me.  All  that  is  human  meets  in  me.  I 
am  the  centre  where  all  the  diverse  and  converging  lines 
of  humanity  meet.     /  am  the  race. 

This  is  no  fanc}^  He  assumed  the  title  of  the  Son 
of  man.  Ko  one  has  ever  dared,  but  He,  to  style  Himself 
thus  absolutely  man;  no  one  has  ever  felt  himself  thus 
the  realized  ideal  of  humanity,  the  representative  of  the 
whole  race  to  itself,  the  representative  of  the  whole  race  to 
God. 

Once  more,  in  tracing  the  intellectual  development  of 
Christ  in  connection  with  this  one  glimpse  of  His  history, 
we  come  to  the  scene  in  the  Temple,  Led  there  by  His 
desire  to  know.  He  was  brought  for  the  first  time  into 
contact  with  cultivated  intellects.  He  heard  for  the  first 
time  the  acute  reasoning  of  the  schools  ;  He  realized  for 
the  first  time  the  vastness  of  the  sea  of  knowledge.  The 
thought  of  the  diversity  of  the  human  intellect  was  ex- 
hibited to  Him  in  the  diversity  of  the  opinions  which  He 
heard. 

When  a  man  first  leaves  his  village  for  college,  and 
hears  opinions,  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to  see  only 
in   one   light,    discussed,  debated,    looked   at   from   fifty 

K   2 


132      The  Intellectual  Development  of  Christ, 

different  points  of  view,  contradicted,  asserted  in  otlier 
and  strange  forms,  a  stir  is  made  at  once  in  his  intellect, 
a  hundred  collateral  questions  spring  to  light  and  ask  for 
a  reply ;  the  old  bed  of  his  lake  of  thought  is  disturbed, 
and  in  the  disturbance  hundreds  of  new  fountains  are  set 
free. 

This  may,  generally  speaking,  represent  the  crisis 
which  now  took  place  in  the  intellect  of  Christ.  Feel- 
ing deeply  that  His  development  was  perfect  in  its 
several  stages,  we  cannot  believe  that  any  of  the  older 
thoughts  of  the  Child  were  negatived  by  the  new 
thought,  or  that  anything  was  really  disturbed  in  the 
sense  in  which  we  may  predicate  that  of  ourselves.  In 
Him  this  disturbance  was  the  orderly  disturbance  caused 
by  a  multitude  of  new  thoughts  being  called  into  con- 
scious being  in  His  mind  by  the  shock  given  to  it  by 
the  thoughts  of  others.  But  there  was  more.  Here  He 
was  made  acquainted  with  the  parties  among  the  Jews  ; 
with  the  petrified  theology  of  the  scribes,  with  the  con- 
ventional morality  of  the  Pharisee,  with  the  conserva- 
tive infidelity  of  the  Sadducee,  with  all  the  false  show 
of  religion  and  the  death  which  lay  beneath.     There  He 

saw 

Decency  and  Custom  starving  Truth, 
And  blind  Authority  beating  with  his  staff 
The  Child  that  might  have  led  him. 

Probably  these  were,  at  first,  onlj^  impressions,  but  we 
cannot  doubt  that  they  produced  their  fruit  at  Nazareth. 
For,  starting  from  these  experiences,  there  grew  up  within 
Him  that  clear  comprehension  of  Jewish  life  and  all  its 
opinions  and  parties,   and  of  the  way  in  which  He  was 


The  Intellectual  Development  of  Christ.      1 3  3 

destined  to  work  upon  tliem,  which,  comes  out  so  wonder- 
fully in  His  ministry.  He  did  not  hear  in  vain  the  doctors 
disputing,  He  did  not  ask  them  questions  without  a  great 
intellectual  result. 

Such  must  have  been  the  influence  on  the  intellect  of 
Christ  of  his  days  in  the  Temple.  It  should  be  delightful 
to  us  to  think  of  Him,  whom  we  reverence  as  Master  and 
Lord,  sharing  thus  in  our  curious  childhood,  listening 
with  engrossed  attention,  ^  both  hearing  them  ' — question- 
ing with  eager  desire — '  and  asking  them  questions.'  It 
should  be  a  wonderful  thought  for  us  to  imagine,  with  love 
and  awe  combined,  how  idea  after  idea,  existing  there 
potentially,  unfolded  their  germs  under  this  influence  in 
the  mind  of  Christ — germs  which,  maturing,  and,  as  they 
matured,  generating  others,  grew  up  during  the  years  of 
silence  at  Nazareth,  into  that  perfect  flower  of  intellect 
which,  shedding  its  living  seeds  over  eighteen  centuries, 
has  given  birth  to  the  great  ideas  which  once  created,  and 
still  create,  the  greater  part  of  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
world. 

One  word  in  conclusion.  After  this  crisis  in  His 
history  He  returned  to  Nazareth ;  the  same,  and  yet 
how  changed,  how  largely  widened  and  deepened  must 
have  been  His  human  nature !  The  thought  of  hu- 
manity had  now  taken  a  higher  place  in  His  mind  than 
the  thought  of  nature.  The  thought  of  God  as  the 
Father  of  man  had  now  succeeded  to  the  thought  of 
God  as  the  Life  of  nature.  His  own  relation  to  the  race 
grew  into  distinctness.  The  deeper  'knowledge  of  the 
world '  which  He  had  gained,  made,  as  if  by  a  subtler 
sense,  all  the  common  human  life  of  Nazareth  an  image 


X 34     ^^^  Intellectual  Development  of  C Insist. 

of  tli8  Life  of  tlie  great  world.  He  saw — being  Him- 
self ilie  Man — in  every  one  He  met  the  great  common 
principles  of  humanity,  while  He  received  the  impress 
of  their  distinctive  characteristics.  '  Among  least  things 
He  had  the  sense  of  greatest.'  There  was  not  a  word 
or  action  of  other  men  which  did  not,  as  He  grew  in 
wisdom,  touch  a  thousand  other  things,  and  fall  into 
relationship  with  them  under  the  universal  principles 
which,  being  the  daily  companions  of  His  intellect, 
linked  together  in  His  mind  the  present  in  which  He 
lived  to  the  past  and  future  of  the  race.  A  new  interest 
had  arisen  within  Him,  the  interest  in  humanity,  or  rather 
I  should  say,  were  I  not  speaking  only  of  His  intellect,  a 
new  love.  It  clung  to  Him,  it  pervaded  His  whole 
thought.  That  scene  in  Jerusalem  stamped  itself  on  His 
memory  for  ever. 

With  this  human  centre  of  thought  He  lived  on  in 
peaceful  solitude  in  the  stillness  of  the  upland  town. 
Often  He  must  have  wandered  to  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
when  wearied  by  the  petty  life  of  the  village,  and,  as  in 
after  life,  so  now,  communed  in  that  prayer  which  is  not 
petition,  but  union  deepty  felt,  with  God  His  Father,  and 
seen  His  life  unrolling  itself  before  Him — not  devised  and 
planned,  but  intuitively  recognized — as  a  panorama  of 
which  death  for  truth  and  for  love  of  men  was  the  sad  and 
glorious  close.  But  He  was  not  deprived  of  tenderer  and 
more  delightful  thought.  How  often  must  the  thoughts 
of  His  childhood,  of  which  we  spoke  last  Sunday,  the 
thoughts  developed  in  him  by  the  beauty  of  His  Father's 
world  of  Life  and  Light  in  nature,  have  come  to  satisfy 
and  cheer  His  inward  life  of  thought !     How  often,  as  the 


The  Intellectual  Develop7nent  of  Christ.      135 

turmoil  of  tlie  world  pressed  upon  His  brain,  must  the 
stars  and  mountains  and  the  peace  of  evening  have  given 
to  him  their  silent  ministrations  !  How  often  as  the 
shadow  of  His  sorrow  fell  upon  His  heart,  must  the  quiet 
joy  of  His  Father's  order,  felt  in  nature,  have  restored  and 
soothed  His  intellect ! 

For  it  were  exquisite  pleasure  to  Him  to  pass  (with  full 
knowledge  now  of  the  true  relation  of  man  and  nature) 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  weakness  and  the  want 
of  life  of  the  human  world  into  communion  with  that 
living  spiritual  world  of  God's  activity  and  peace  which 
He  saw  within  the  phenomena  of  nature.  This  was  the 
one  deep  solitary  pleasure  of  His  life.  For  though,  as  we 
have  said,  the  thought  of  humanity,  and  not  the  thought 
of  nature,  was  now  the  pre-eminent  thought  in  His  mind 
— because  the  redemption  of  man  was  His  work — yet, 
the  more  divine  thought  must  always  have  been  the 
thought  of  nature.  His  labour  was  inspired  by  the 
former  ;  His  recreation,  joy,  and  consolation  were  supplied 
by  the  latter. 

Brethren,  let  us  part  with  the  solemnizing  imagina- 
tion of  this — Christ's  silent  growth  in  wisdom  in  the 
stillness  of  the  retired  Galilsean  village.  May  it  calm 
our  noisy  lives  and  our  obtrusive  interests  to  realize,  if 
but  for  one  dignified  moment,  the  image  of  the  Saviour 
of  the  world,  in  whom  was  now  concealed  from  men  the 
regeneration  and  redemption  of  the  race — living  a  forgot- 
ten life,  but  ever — '  voyaging  through  strange  seas  of 
thought,  alone.' 


136       The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ. 


[Feb.  16,  1867.] 

TEE  SPIRITUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  CHRIST. 

Luke  ii.  49. 

We  have  been  engaged  for  three  Sundays  on  the  subject 
of  the  development  of  Christ.  We  have  spoken  of  His 
development  through  the  influences  of  home,  of  His  de- 
velopment through  the  influences  of  outward  nature,,  and, 
last  Sunday,  of  His  intellectual  development. 

This  morning  our  subject  is  the  thoughts  which  we 
may  derive  from  the  scene  in  the  Temple,  with  regard 
to  the  spiritual  development  of  our  Lord.  These  cele- 
brated words,  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my 
Father's  business  ?  '  afford  us  a  momentary  glimpse  of 
the  spiritual  life  of  Christ  w^hen  a  child.  That  sjDiritual 
life,  essentially  in  Him  from  His  birth,  had  been 
naturally  developed  in  His  consciousness  by  means  of 
external  circumstances,  and  through  the  growth  of  His 
intellect.  We  have  spoken  of  the  way  in  which  the 
first  gleams  of  the  consciousness  of  His  spiritual  life 
may  have  arisen  through  the  influence  of  His  home  and 
of  outward  nature.  A  kindling  influence  then  came 
upon  His  intellect  in  the  religious  journey  to  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  sights  He  saw  at  the  Feast,  and  reached 
its  culminating  point  in  the  conversation  in  the  Temple. 
It  is  well  known  how  the  first  clashing  of  our  thought 


The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ,       137 

with  other  thought  makes  us  conscious  of  what  is  in 
us,  how  even  an  inferior  man  may  reveal  to  our  con- 
sciousness that  which  we  unconsciously  possess.  The 
suggestions  of  men  who  only  reproduce  old  thought,  of 
men  who  are  only  reflective,  arouse  the  creative  energy 
of  one  in  whom  are  hid  treasures  of  new  thought.  The 
very  want  of  completion  in  the  ideas  he  listens  to  makes 
him  sensible  of  his  own  power.  He  begins  to  know, 
from  contrast,  that  he  possesses  finished  and  universal 
thoughts. 

It  is  easy  to  apply  this  to  the  spiritual  development 
of  Christ.  In  His  spirit  lay  hid  the  life  of  God,  limited 
as  to  His  consciousness  of  it  only  by  the  order  of  human 
development.  A  portion  of  it  had  been  already  de- 
veloped, but  much  waited  yet  to  be  awakened.  The 
time  had  now  come ;  the  conversation  was  religious. 
Remarks,  suggestions,  explanations  of  the  Law,  fell  upon 
His  spirit,  stirred  what  was  potentially  there,  till  He 
began  to  feel,  as  a  child  would  feel  it.  His  own  creative 
spiritual  power.  His  own  union  with  the  Word  of 
God.  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's 
business  ?  ' 

Accompanying  this  dawning  consciousness  of  the 
spiritual  light  and  life  which  dwelt  within  Him,  there 
arose  also  in  His  mind  the  consciousness  of  His  re- 
deeming mission.  We  seem  to  trace  this  in  the  words 
'my  Father's  business.'  It  does  not  appear,  however, 
just  to  say  that  this  idea  was  now  fully  defined  and 
grasped.  We  should  be  forced  then  to  attribute  more  to 
Him  than  would  agree  with  perfect  childhood;  but 
there   is   no   unnaturalness   in   holding  that  it  now  for 


138       The  Spirihtal  Develop^nent  of  Christ. 

tlie  first  time  became  a  dim  prophecy  in  His  mind.  It 
required  for  its  complete  development  that  the  sinful- 
ness of  the  world  should  be  presented  to  His  growing 
knowledge  as  a  thing  external  to  Himself.  Sin  so 
presented  made  Him  conscious,  by  the  instinctive  re- 
pulsion which  it  caused  Him,  of  His  own  spotless  holiness  ; 
and,  by  the  infinite  pity  which  He  felt  for  those 
enslaved  by  it,  of  His  own  infinite  love  for  sinners ;  and 
out  of  these  two  there  rose  the  consciousness  of  His 
mission  as  the  Redeemer  of  the  race  from  sin.  This 
was  the  business  which  His  Father  had  given  Him  to  do. 
Clearly  and  more  clearly  from  this  day  forth,  for  eighteen 
years  at  Nazareth,  it  grew  up  into  its  completed  form, 
till  He  was  ready  to  carry  it  out  into  the  action  of  His 
ministry. 

Let  m-e  develope  this  still  more  in  connection  with  last 
Sunday's  sermon.  We  imagined  Him,  as  He  journeyed 
to  Jerusalem,  realizing  in  His  intellect  the  past  history 
of  His  people.  He  conversed  in  the  imaginative  feeling 
of  a  child  with  the  great  history  of  the  great  spirits 
of  the  Jewish  nation,  and  in  his  mind  arose  a  sense 
of  the  majesty  and  power  of  humanity.  He  saw  the 
vast  tide  of  men  which  filled  Jerusalem,  and  He  was 
not  free  from  that  impression  of  awe  and  dignity  which 
comes  to  us  from  the  first  conception  of  the  multi- 
tudinous world  of  humanity  which  labours  and  thinks 
in  London.  The  first  impression  is  one,  and  belongs 
to  the  universal.  As  such  it  is  immense,  creative,  full 
of  awe.  It  is  only  when  we  descend  to  particularize 
and  divide,  that  our  thought  of  human  nature  becomes 
undignified.     "We   may   conjecture,   then,   that   the    first 


The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ.       1 3  9 

impressions  in  Jerusalem  awoke  in  Christ's  spirit  the 
elevated  view  of  human  nature  which  we  conceive  from 
His  after  life  to  have  been  latent  in  Him  as  a  child. 
But  when  He  came  to  consider  classes  and  individuals, 
and  not  the  race  as  a  whole — in  its  idea — He  found 
h}^ocrisy,  selfishness,  tyranny,  meanness.  But  the  first 
idea  must  have  remained  firm,  co-existent  with  the  other 
sad  ideas  which  followed  it. 

Man,  then,  was  great,  and  man  was  base ;  man  was 
mighty,  and  man  was  weak  ;  man  had  a  divine  nature, 
and  man  had  given  himself  over  to  a  base  nature. 
But  the  greatness,  strength,  and  divineness  were  his 
true  nature ;  the  others  were  the  result  of  an  alien  and 
usurping  power.  Both  existed ;  but  the  one  existed  to  be 
made  perfect,  the  other  to  be  destroyed.  Hence,  not 
all  the  evil  Christ  came  into  contact  with,  not  all  the 
blindness,  sin,  and  cruelty  which  He  saw  and  suffered 
from,  could  ever  overthrow  His  divine  trust  in  that 
Avhich  man  might  become.  Here  was  a  real  spiritual 
thought  bearing  on  His  mission — man  is  cajxihle  of  being 
redeemed. 

As  His  spirit  grew  more  conscious  of  what  it  really 
was.  He  felt  that  truth  —  man's  capability  of  being 
redeemed — not  only  without,  but  within  himself.  How 
could  He  despair  of  human  nature  when  He  knew  that 
He  Himself  was  sinless  human  nature  ?  His  very  ex- 
istence as  man  was  proof  that  man  was  destined  to  be 
perfect.  Conscious  thus,  from  His  own  sinlessness,  of 
man's  possibility  of  sinlessness.  He  became  conscious, 
for  the  same  reason,  of  another  truth — that  He  was  the 
destined  Redeemer  of  the  race  from  the  usurping  power 


140       The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ. 

of  sin.     Being  pure,  He  knew  He  could  save  the  impure ; 
being  perfect  Life,  He  knew  lie  could  conquer  the  death 
of  man  ;  being  perfect  Love,  He  knew  He  could  cast  out 
of  the  race  the  devil  of  self-seeking.     Immediately,  in-  "\ 
tuitively,  He  felt  thus, — was  conscious  of  Himself,  first,  as   ^ 
sinless  humanity  ;  secondly,  as  the  Redeemer  of  humanity  / 
from  sin. 

We  seem,  in  this  way,  to  see  faintly  a  strange  co- 
existence of  apparently  contradictory  ideas  within  the 
spirit  of  Christ  during  His  life  at  Nazareth.  One  would 
almost  think  that  that  impression  of  the  greatness  of  the 
human  soul  would  have  been  worn  out  by  daily  contact 
with  the  wild  dwellers  at  Nazareth — and  yet  with  what 
sort  of  a  spirit  did  He  come  forth  into  the  world  ? — With 
unshaken  trust  in  human  nature :  recognizing  its  evil, 
but  believing,  as  none  have  ever  believed  before  or  since, 
in  its  nobility,  its  capabilities,  its  infinite  power  of  work. 
It  was  not  only  interest  in  humanity — that  is  the  way  I 
put  it  last  Sunday,  but  I  was  speaking  only  of  Christ's  in- 
tellect— it  was  love  of  humanity,  love,  the  '  business  of 
His  Father.' 

We  come  to  that  by  slow  degrees — rise  into  that  life 
by  finding  out  the  wretchedness  and  death  of  self,  but  in 
the  Saviour's  spirit  it  rose  into  being  like  a  flower  from  a 
seed  already  there.  It  developed  itself  till  it  penetrated 
His  whole  nature  with  one  great  spiritual  thought,  *  I 
will  give  away  all  my  being  for  the  human  race.' 

This  love  of  man,  and  desire  to  impart  life  to  those  who 
needed  life,  was  correlative  to  another  spiritual  idea — 
indignation  at  evil.  It  was  this  which  balanced  love  in 
Christ,  and  kept  it  from  the  weakness  of  our  affection 


The  Spirihtal  Development  of  Christ.       141 

and  the  maudlin  sentiment  of  much  of  our  philanthropy. 
Christ  abhorred  sin,  and  saw  it  in  its  native  darkness. 
There  was  in  Him,  therefore,  an  agony  of  desire  to 
redeem  us  from  it,  and  a  pitying  indignation  for  our 
desolate  slavery.  He  laboured  to  convince  men  that  they 
did  need  a  deliverer  from  sin ;  and  when  a  man,  like 
Zacchaeus,  felt  his  selfishness  and  desired  freedom,  it 
is  wonderful  how  the  Saviour's  spirit  sprang  to  meet 
the  seeking  spirit,  clung  to  it,  and  poured  into  it  a 
stream  of  life  and  faith  and  hope.  But  when  men,  for 
the  sake  of  keeping  up  an  ecclesiastical  dominion,  for  the 
sake  of  success,  for  the  honour  of  dead  maxims,  stopped 
the  way  of  others,  gave  men  lifeless  forms,  and  perse- 
cuted the  Light  because  it  condemned  their  darkness, 
how  the  holy  anger  kindled !  As  the  Child  listened  to 
the  intolerance  of  the  Pharisee,  the  dogmatism  of  the 
scribe,  and  the  scornful  infidelity  of  the  Sadducee, 
there  must  have  sprung  up  in  His  heart  an  instinctive 
feeling  of  opposition  ;  and  this  spiritual  wrath  at  wrong 
done  to  the  souls  of  men,  grew  and  deepened  at  Naza- 
reth— as  the  meaning  of  what  He  had  heard  in  the 
Temple  was  made  clear  to  Him  by  His  after  knowledge 
— till  it  culminated  in  the  withering  denunciations  of 
His  ministry. 

We  have  now  seen  how  the  consciousness  of  His 
having  a  work  to  do  for  men  began  to  dawn  in  His 
spirit.  He  must  be  about  a  business  in  life.  But  there 
was  something  more ;  it  was  not  Hi^  work  only,  it  was 
primarily  His  Father's  business.  Thus  in  doing  His 
own  work  He  was  doing  His  Father's  work.  The 
thought  as  yet  was  dim,  childish,  not  clearly   realized, 


1 42       The  Spiritual  Developme7it  of  Christ, 

but  it  was  developed  afterwards  into  tliat  clear  sense 
of  a  united  work  done  as  if  by  one  will,  by  Himself  and 
ihe  Fatlier,  which  we  find  expressed  in  texts  like  these : 
'  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work ;  '  '  I  have 
glorified  Thee  upon  the  earth  ;  I  have  finished  the  work 
which  Thou  gavest  me  to  do  ;  -'  *  If  I  do  not  the  work  of 
my  Father,  believe  me  not.  But  if  I  do,  though  ye  be- 
lieve not  me,  believe  the  works,  that  j^e  may  know  and 
believe  that  the  Father  is  in  me,  and  I  in  Him.'  There 
is  the  full  clear  consciousness  of  that  spiritual  idea  of 
which  here  we  see  the  germ — that  all  His  work  was  His 
Father's  work. 

Brethren,  it  is  the  true  thought  for  us ;  not  only  that 
all  true  work  which  we  do  is  God's  work,  but  that  work 
which  is  not  of  God  is  not  work,  does  not  properly  exist 
in  the  universe  at  all.     '  There  18  no  work  but  Thine.' 

When  we  first  take  up  our  place  and  labour,  we 
mistake  the  meaning  of  our  life.  We  think  we  are 
born  to  do  our  own  will^  and  we  act  upon  our  thought. 
Straightway  ail  our  work  becomes  selfish ;  we  toil  and 
struggle  for  ourselves,  we  are  an  end  unto  ourselves ; 
and  the  result  is  that  we  find  our  work  becoming  mean ; 
our  view  of  life  contemptuous ;  ourselves  ignoble.  But 
when  the  root  idea  of  life  is  changed,  when  we  know 
that  we  are  here  to  do  God's  will,  and  that  His  will  is 
love  to  us  and  all,  the  impulse  and  end  of  our  work  are 
altered.  We  accept  the  duties  laid  upon  iis,  and  are 
not  anxious  to  make  them  into  advantages  to  self.  We 
think,  '  God  has  placed  me  here  and  told  me  to  do  this. 
He  is  Right,  and  knowledge  and  good  must  flow  to  all  if 
I   am  faitliful.     I  am  His  instrument  ;  through  me  He 


The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ.       143 

is  making  a  phase  of  Himself  known  to  man ;  through 
me  He  is  doing  a  portion  of  His  mighty  labour/  The 
thought  transfigures  our  ^dew  of  the  universe  ;  imme- 
diately work  becomes  unselfish  and  sanctified,  life  is  en- 
nobled, the  commonest  drudgery  is  rendered  beautiful, 
sufi'ering  is  gladly  borne.  Men  call  us  aside  to  the  pur- 
suit of  j^leasure,  to  the  passion  of  excitement,  to  the  fame 
and  honour  we  may  win,  to  seek  our  own  will  and  gain 
it.  '  Hush  ! '  we  say,  '  we  live  now  in  deeper  joy  than  you 
can  know,  we  have  loftier  excitements.  Fame,  honour, 
they  are  in  His  hand  and  not  in  ours.  My  own  will ! 
I  have  my  wHl  when  I  do  His  will.'  0  brethren ! 
how  magnificent  a  thing  might  life  become  could  we  but 
turn  away  from  all  temptations  to  do  our  own  will,  and 
say  to  the  tempters,  were  they  even  father  or  mother — 
say  in  the  strength  of  Christ — '  I  cannot ;  wist  ye  not 
that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business  ?  ' 

In  tracing  the  spiritual  development  of  Christ  we  have 
thus  found  in  Him  the  germs  of  two  great  thoughts — the 
first  dawning  consciousness  of  His  Messiahship,  the  first 
dawning  consciousness  of  His  peculiar  relation  to  His 
Father. 

We  consider,  in  conclusion,  the  result  of  these 
thoughts  upon  His  life.  IN'o  doubt,  one  might  sa}^,  '  He 
felt  Himself  at  once  separated  from  common  life.  He 
was  marked  from  mankind,  and  the  rest  of  His  exist- 
ence must  be  in  accordance  wdth  this  isolation.  The 
marvellous  boy  would  remain  at  Jerusalem.  ^^Tiy  should 
He  go  back  to  remote  and  vulgar  Nazareth,  where  His 
rising  light  would  be  concealed?  There  was  another 
career  before   Him.     He  would  confute  the  doctors  with 


1 44       The  Sphdtual  Developmeyit  of  Christ. 

His  supernatural  knowledge  and  power,  and,  as  He  grew 
up,  set  up  a  new  religious  sect.'  This  would  be,  I  venture 
to  say,  the  natural  evolution  of  the  history  on  the  hypo- 
thesis of  the  truth  of  the  mythical  theory.  If  Christ's 
life  is  the  product  of  the  Jewish- Christian  imagination, 
this  representation  ought  to  be  that  given  us  in  the 
Gospels.  What  do  we  find?  Absolute  silence.  He 
went  home  to  common  life,  to  subjection  to  His  parents, 
and  for  eighteen  years  not  a  word  or  act  betrayed  His 
presence.  It  is  a  fact  absolutely  inexplicable  upon  the 
mythical  theory,  and  till  it  is  explained  it  vitiates  that 
theory.  Look  at  it  in  another  way.  Given  a  tolerable 
acquaintance  with  the  modes  of  thinking  and  feeling  of 
the  Jewish  Christians  of  the  first  two  centuries,  we 
ought  not,  if  the  mythical  theory  be  true,  to  be  aston- 
ished by  any  of  the  circumstances  attributed  to  the  life 
of  Jesus ;  all  ought  to  be  easily  accounted  for,  easily 
imagined. 

But  here  is  a  circumstance  quite  unaccountable,  so 
strange,  that  it  has  awakened  the  amazement  of  all 
ages — this  silence  of  eighteen  years.  It  is  exactly  the 
reverse  of  that  which  would  be  accreted  by  imagination 
round  the  person  of  Jesus.  It  is  devoid  of  all  embel- 
lishment, all  exaggeration :  it  is  eighteen  years  passed 
by  without  a  word,  and  those  years  the  very  ones  in  a- 
srreat  man's  life  for  which  followers  and  admirers  have 
generally  formed  the  greatest  number  of  mythical  stories. 
It  is  strange,  in  reality,  to  us  who  believe  ;  it  must  be 
of  infinite  strangeness  to  the  supporters  of  the  mythical 
theory.  It  is  passed  by,  and  no  wonder,  by  the  pro- 
pounder  of  that  theory. 


The  Spiritual  Developuicnt  of  Christ.      145 

This  was  the  case,  however  ;  the  Child  went  home  with 
His  parents.  And  was  this  the  end  of  the  aspiration  in 
the  Temple  ;  was  this  to  be  about  His  Father's  business  ? 
"VYe  can  scarcely  understand  it,  we  to  whom  passiveness, 
quiet  life,  seem  unproductive.  But  so  it  was  with  the 
perfect  Man.  Eighteen  years  of  silent  life  were  the  mode 
now  in  which  He  was  to  do  His  Father's  business.  To 
keep  quiet,  to  live  the  common  life  of  a  labouring  man  in 
[N^azareth,  to  wait  and  develope,  this  was  God's  business 
for  His  Son. 

It  is  a  vast  lesson.  We  complain  of  the  slow  dull  life 
we  are  forced  to  lead,  of  our  humble  sphere  of  action,  of 
our  low  position  in  the  scale  of  society,  of  our  having  no 
room  to  make  ourselves  known,  of  our  wasted  energies,  of 
our  3-ears  of  patience.  So  do  we  say  that  we  have  no 
Father  who  is  directing  our  life,  so  do  we  say  that  God 
has  forgotten  us,  so  do  we  boldl}^  j^^o^  what  life  is  best 
for  us,  and  so  by  our  complaining  do  we  lose  the  use  and 
profit  of  the  quiet  years.  We  cannot  be  still,  cannot  be 
at  rest.  It  is  the  most  natural  and  yet  the  most  ruinous 
fault  which  belongs  to  men  in  an  age  which  lives  too 
fast  and  has  almost  a  morbid  passion  for  incessant  labour. 
0  men  of  little  faith  !  Because  you  are  not  sent  out  yet 
into  your  labour,  do  you  think  God  has  ceased  to  remember 
you ;  because  you  are  forced  to  be  outwardly  inactive,,  do 
3^0 u  think  you  also  may  not  be,  in  your  years  of  quiet, 
'  about  your  Father's  business '  ?  Receive  the  lesson  of 
Christ's  life — the  lesson  Milton  learnt  from  God's  Si^irit 
in  his  heart  : 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

Lastly,  to  Christ  Himself,  His  Father's  business  then 

I  L 


146       The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ. 

was  tlie  development  of  all  His  inner  self,  the  maturing 
for  His  work.  The  idea  of  His  mission  and  the  powers 
for  it  grew  together,  and  when  the  time  for  action  came 
He  was  ready. 

Such  times  of  waiting  mark,  not  uncommonly,  our  life. 
Our  youth  is  kept  back  from  the  press  of  labour,  or  our 
manhood  is  forced  to  pause.  It  is  a  period  given  to  us  in 
which  to  mature  ourselves  for  the  work  which  God  will 
give  us  to  do. 

Oh  !  use  it  well.  Grow  in  it,  do  not  retrograde.  The 
way  we  spend  it  oftentimes  in  youth  is  in  light  indif- 
ference or  daring  bravado,  and  when  the  time  comes  in 
which  the  work  which  God  had  chosen  for  us  is  ready  for 
our  energy,  we  have  no  instruments  to  work  with,  no 
ideas  to  expand  and  express  in  fruitful  labour.  The 
way  we  spend  it  oftentimes  in  manhood  is  in  whining 
at  God's  unfairness,  as  we  call  it ;  in  complaining  regret 
for  past  activity,  and  then,  when  work  is  again  laid 
before  us,  we  have  lost  the  time  during  which  we  ought 
to  have  matured  ourselves ;  enfeebled  the  will  by  fruitless 
wailing ;  chilled  the  aspirations  which  kindle,  and  the 
faith  and  hope  which  sustain,  the  toiling  spirit  of  a 
noble  workman  for  the  race;  we  have  missed  our  op- 
portunity, and  now  we  cannot  enter  on  our  ministry. 
Nothing  is  sadder  than  the  way  in  which  we  wilfully  spoil 
our  life. 

Brethren,  no  time  of  seeming  inactivity  is  laid  upon 
you  by  God  without  a  just  reason.  It  is  God  calling 
upon  you  to  do  His  business  by  ripening  in  quiet  all 
your  powers  for  some  higher  sphere  of  activity  which 
is  about  to  be  opened  to  you.     The  time  is  coming  when 


The  Spiritual  Development  of  Christ.      147 

you  shall  be  called  again  to  the  front  of  the  battle.  Let 
that  solemn  thought  of  dread  yet  kindling  expectancy 
fill  the  cup  of  your  life  with  the  inner  work  of  self-develop- 
ment which  will  make  you  ready  and  prepared  when  your 
name  is  called.  The  eighteen  years  at  Nazareth,  what 
was  their  result  ?  A  few  years  of  action,  but  of  action 
concentrated,  intense,  infinite ;  not  one  word,  not  one 
deed  which  did  not  tell,  and  which  will  not  tell  upon  the 
universe  for  ever. 

Eighteen  years  of  silence,  and  then — the  regenera- 
tion of  the  world  accomplished,  His  Father's  business 
done. 


X  2 


148         John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter 


[November  25,  1866.] 
JOEN  THE  BAPTIST,  TEE  INTERPRETER. 

Mattliew  iii.  1. 

There  is  something  which  touches  in  us  that  chord  of 
sadness  which  is  always  ready  to  vibrate,  when  we  think 
that  John  the  Baptist  was  the  last  of  all  the  heroes  of  the 
old  dispensation,  that  with  him  closed  the  goodly  fellow- 
ship of  the  prophets.  For  we  cannot  look  at  the  last 
lighting  up  of  the  intellect  of  a  man,  the  last  effort  for 
freedom  of  a  dying  nation,  or  \\iq  last  glory  of  an  ancient 
institution  like  that  of  the  Jewish  prophets,  without  a 
sense  of  sadness. 

Men  are  we,  and  must  grieve  when  even  the  shade 
Of  that  which  once  was  great  hath  passed  away. 

But  if  there  be  some  melancholy  in  the  feeling  with  which 
we  view  the  Baptist,  there  is  also  much  of  enthusiasm. 
If  he  was  the  last,  he  was  also  the  greatest  of  the 
prophets.  That  which  all  the  others  had  dimly  imaged, 
he  presented  in  clear  light  ;  that  which  they  had  spoken 
in  parables,  he  declared  in  the  plainest  words.  Thus,  he 
not  only  $nished  the  old  dispensation,  he  also  ushered  in 
the  new.  He  is,  as  it  were,  the  bridge  between  two  eras ; 
he  represents  the  transition  period  between  Judaism  and 
Christianity. 

Our  object,  however,  is  not  to  dwell  on  this  important 


John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter.  149 

view  of  the  Baptist's  position,  but  to  connect  his  work 
with  the  collect  of  this  Sunday. 

The  collect  calls  upon  God  to  stir  up  the  minds  of  His 
faithful  people  in  preparation  for  the  advent  of  Christ. 
It  is  on  this  account  that  it  is  so  arranged  by  the 
Church  as  always  to  be  read  before  the  first  Sunday  in 
Advent.  It  marks  the  condition  of  mind  with  which 
we  should  anticipate  the  coming  of  the  Saviour ;  it  was 
doubtless  suo^o^ested  by  the  character  and  the  work  of 
the  historical  forerunner  of  our  Lord.  For  John  the 
Baptist  was  called  to  be  the  awakener,  the  exciter  of 
the  Jewish  world.  It  is  so  that  he  characterizes  him- 
self: 'lam  the  voice  of  one  cr34ng  in  the  wilderness.' 
And  of  this  we  have  proof  enough.  He  troubled  the 
whole  of  Jewish  society  to  its  depths.  Priests,  formalists, 
infidels,  soldiers,  publicans,  wealth,  rank,  and  poverty 
streamed  day  after  day  into  the  wilderness  to  hear  and  to 
obey  the  preacher.  It  is  as  the  stirrer  of  Jewish  life  and 
thouo^ht,  as  a  warnino"  voice  to  Eno-land — awakenino^  our 
hearts  to  the  advent  of  Christ — that  we  shall  consider  him 
to-day. 

I  said  that  John  was  the  finisher  of  one,  and  the 
introducer  of  a  new  dispensation.  For  centuries  the 
thoughts  and  passion  of  the  prophets  had  streamed 
into  and  filled  the  Jewish  heart.  They  kindled  there 
vague  desires,  wild  hopes  of  a  far-ofi"  kingdom,  passionate 
discontent  with  things  as  they  were.  At  last,  about  the 
time  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  these  scattered  dreams  and 
hopes  concentrated  themselves  into  one  desire,  took 
form  and  substance  in  one  prophecy — the  advent  of  the 
anointed  king.     It  was  the  blazing  up  of  an  excitement 


1 50         yohn  the  Baptist^  the  Interpreter. 

whicli  had  been  smouldering  for  a  thousand  years  ;  it 
was  the  last  and  most  powerful  of  a  long  series  of 
oscillations  which  had  been  gradually  increasing  in 
swing  and  force.  Now  two  things  are,  I  think,  true ; 
first,  wherever  there  is  this  passion  in  a  people,  it  em- 
bodies itself  in  one  man,  who  is  to  be  its  interpreter. 
Secondly,  wherever  a  great  problem  of  the  human  spirit 
is  growing  towards  its  solution,  and  the  soil  of  humanity 
is  prepared  for  new  seed  from  heaven,  God  sends  His 
chosen  creature  to  proclaim  the  truth  which  brings  the 

light. 

A  great  man  is  then  the  product  of  two  things — of  the 
passion  of  his  age,  and  of  the  choice  of  God.  So  far  as 
he  is  the  former,  he  is  but  the  interpreter  of  his  own  time, 
and  only  the  highest  man  of  his  time ;  so  far  as  he  is  the 
latter,  he  is  beyond  his  age,  and  points  forward  to  a 
higher  revelation. 

Such  was  the  Baptist's  position — the  interpreter  of  the 
spiritual  wants  of  the  Jewish  people,  the  prophet  of  a 
greater  revelation  in  the  future. 

*  Repent :  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.' 

This  was  John's  witness  in  the  wilderness.  To  this 
God  had  brought  him  after  thirty  years  of  education. 
From  his  birth  he  had  been  a  marked  child  set  apart 
for  a  peculiar  work.  For  years  he  had  lived  with  his 
father,  sometimes  in  the  hill  country  of  Judaea,  some- 
times in  Jerusalem.  Even  in  his  childhood  he  had  seen 
almost  all  the  aspects  of  Jewish  society.  He  could  have 
mingled  with  the  pleasures  of  the  capital,  but  the  strictly 
ascetic  life  imposed  on  him,  and  the  sense  that  he  was 
elected   by  God   from   mankind,  kept   him   as   one  who 


yohn  the  Baptist,  the  I}itcrprete7\  131 

stands  apart  and  observes,  but  does  not  mingle  with, 
the  crowd  of  men.  Sucb  a  life  has  a  tendency  to  make  a 
man  judge  harshly,  too  harshlj^,  of  the  world.  But, 
indeed,  as  the  youth  looked  round  upon  Jerusalem,  he  had 
some  excuse  for  harsh  judgments.  The  one  peculiarity 
of  Jewish  religion  was  its  unreaKty.  The  Sadducee 
believed  is.  nothing  spiritual,  in  nothing  which  he  could 
not  test  by  his  senses,  or  demonstrate  by  reasoning. 
The  lawyers  and  scribes  spent  their  time  in  theolo- 
gical discussions  which  they  mistook  for  religion,  and 
in  investigating  the  letter  of  the  Scripture  while  they 
denied  its  spirit.  The  Pharisees  were  content  to  seem 
religious,  but  to  he  religious  was  not  necessary  to  support 
their  power. 

Jewish  religion  was  a  nut  without  the  kernel,  a  sepul- 
chre, white  and  fair  without,  but  within  full  of  dead  men's 
bones. 

Fancy  the  shame  and  pain  with  which  a  true  man 
must  have  viewed  all  this  hypocrisy  and  unreaKty ! 
"We  can  no  longer  wonder  at  his  resolution  to  leave  the 
corrupted  life  behind  him  and  to  go  into  the  freedom 
and  righteousness  of  the  wilderness.  There,  at  least, 
he  would  be  alone  with  God ;  there,  beside  the  untainted 
stream  of  Jordan  and  beneath  the  pure  eyes  of  the  stars, 
he  could  live  in  the  heroic  associations  of  his  people, 
and  remember  that  they  were  a  holy  nation  once ;  there 
he  could  wait  and  pray  for  the  time  when  truth  might 
break  again  upon  Israel  from  Jehovah.  AYe  know  at 
least  that  many  sincere  men  were  of  this  mind  in  Judaea, 
and  retiring  from  the  world,  like  the  Christian  hermits 
of  a  later  date,  formed  a  kind  of  society  and  called  them- 


152         John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter. 

selves  Essenes.  It  is  possible  tliat  John  may  at  first 
have  joined  himself  to  these.  But  if  so,  it  could  not  have 
been  for  a  long  time,  for  a  new  revelation  was  coming 
to  the  Jewish  anchorite,  and  a  new  revelation,  be  it  of 
what  it  may,  drives  a  man  into  loneliness.  Only  in  quiet, 
in  solitude  with  Grod,  in  unbroken  questioning  with  his 
own  soul,  can  a  prophet  of  God  discover  what  God  is  saying 
to  his  spirit.  The  Baptist  went  apart  and  brooded  over 
his  half-arisen  thought.  He  had  heard  the  wonders  of 
the  birth  of  Christ,  he  had  probably  known  Christ  well 
as  boy  and  man.  Carrying  this  remembrance  always 
with  him,  the  thought  of  a  great  spiritual  Deliverer  grew 
in  force. 

The  impulses  of  his  own  heart,  sorrow  for  his  country's 
degradation,  hatred  of  his  country's  guilt  and  of  social 
and  religious  lies,  his  own  passionate  desire  for  a  Saviour, 
added  fresh  fuel  to  the  burning  hope  within  him.  Deeper 
and  deeper  became  his  longings,  more  ardent  became  his 
prayers,  more  intense  his  solitude  wdth  God.  At  last,  one 
day  (for  such  revelations  come  suddenly  as  the  crown  of 
long  preparation),  it  flashed  on  him  from  God  that  the 
Messiah  would  soon  be  manifested.  He  knew  within  him- 
self that  the  time  was  come.  Forthwith  a  fire  began  to 
blaze  in  his  heart,  and  his  message  rushed  to  his  lips. 
He  left  his  loneliness,  he  came  forth  the  preacher,  his 
voice  rang  far  and  wide,  '  Repent,  repent :  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  at  hand.' 

And  his  words  found  an  echo  in  all  hearts,  for  what 
had  stirred  in  him  had  been  stirring  in  the  Jew^s,  only 
they  could  not  give  it  clear  expression.  They  had  had 
formless  ideas,  desires  for  which  they  had  no  translation, 


John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter.  153 

a  void  in  tlie  heart  tliey  could  not  fill.  The  desires  were 
translated  into  words,  and  the  void  in  the  heart  was  filled, 
when  John,  looking  on  Jesus  as  He  walked^  turned  and 
said  to  his  disciples,  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world/ 

It  is  the  province  of  the  man  of  genius  in  all  ages  to 
express  the  hidden  and  the  speechless  in  the  hearts  of 
other  men,  to  interpret  man  to  himself.  The  new  epoch 
of  thoughts  took  substance  as  the  Baptist  spoke.  He 
threw  into  words,  and  in  doing  so  interpreted_,  the  word- 
less passion  of  a  thousand  souls.  Brethren,  that  it  is  to 
be  a  preacher. 

The  stirring  in  the  heart  of  Palestine  had  been  but 
little.  It  had  not  strength  or  consistency  enough  to 
become  a  living  impulse  in  society.  It  might  have  died 
out  as  a  thousand  others  have  perished  in  national  and 
individual  life,  for  want  of  an  outward  push.  The  vis 
inertice  of  Pharisaism  must  have  been  as  strong  as  the 
sceptical  conservatism  of  the  Sadducee.  But  God  did 
not  forsake  the  searching  spirits  of  Judaea,  and  just  as  a 
young  man,  who  cannot  harmonize  his  life,  who  cannot 
discover  a  dominant  motive,  who  has  passionate  feelings 
which  he  cannot  express,  and  a  multitudinous  army  of 
thoughts  which  he  cannot  arrange  or  discipline,  lights 
one  day  upon  a  noble  treatise  or  an  inspiring  poem,  and 
is  shaken  to  his  depths  by  finding  himself  reflected  there 
and  there  interpreted — becoming  then  so  stirred  by  this 
self- interpretation  that  he  finds  his  true  path,  and,  setting 
his  steps  to  an  ordered  melody,  sees  his  goal,  and  is  reso- 
lute to  reach  it  —  so  were  the  religious-hearted  Jews 
afiected  by  the  preaching  of  the  Baptist.     They  saw  the 


154         John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter, 

problem  of  their  inner  life  solved,  tliey  were  aroused,  im- 
pelled, stirred  to  the  recesses  of  the  soul. 

Of  all  the  blessed  works  which  God  gives  to  man  to  do 
in  this  life,  there  is  none  more  blessed  than  that  of  the 
awakener — of  the  interpreter. 

It  is  the  work  which  I  would  that  all  who  see 
beyond  the  present,  and  whose  eyes  God  has  opened, 
would  now  undertake  in  England  ;  for  there  is  a  move- 
ment abroad  in  society  which  ought  to  be  made  constant, 
and  needs  an  interpreter  of  its  meaning.  If  I  desire 
anything  strongly  in  this  life,  it  is  that  God  may  send 
to  us  some  men  of  genius,  some  inspired  men,  to  kindle 
into  a  blaze  the  low  fire  of  excitement  which  is  smoulder- 
ing here,  and  to  show  us  what  it  means ;  that  we  may 
shake  off  our  old  life  and  put  on  the  new.  For  it  is  not 
to  be  denied  that  that  apparently  causeless  movement 
which  presages  a  great  change,  and  which  is  like  the 
grounds  well  which  rolls  on  shore  before  the  hurricane, 
is  to  be  felt  in  England  now.  Men  are  stirred  they 
know  not  why.  Vague  hopes  of  change  and  reform 
are  drifting  before  our  eyes.  A  general  excitement  of 
thought  upon  nearly  all  questions  of  the  intellect  and 
spirit,  the  characteristics  of  which  are  incoherency, 
irregularity,  oddity,  prevails  far  and  wide.  New  theories 
are  born  and  perish  in  a  month.  We  know  not  what 
to  believe,  or  what  to  cling  to.  The  old  landmarks 
have  been  washed  away,  and  we  have  not  settled  the  new 
ones.  With  a  general  notion  of  our  power  and  great- 
ness, of  our  inexhaustible  wealth  and  national  courage, 
and  with  a  pride  in  our  intellect  and  the  omnipotence 
of    reason,    there   is    conjoined    a   widespread    suspicion 


JoJm  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter,  155 

that  our  foundations  are  not  sure,  a  contempt  of  the 
times,  and  a  dissatisfaction  with  society  and  with  the 
life  we  lead.  Educated,  and  even  uneducated  men  have 
lost  respect  for  old  things  and  old  ways.  Few  men  can 
now  be  found  who  reverence  the  old  only  because  it  is 
the  old.  That  false  reverence,  I  rejoice  to  say,  is  passing 
away,  and  even  the  most  conservative  are  beginning 
to  be  impatient  of  mouldering  abuses.  It  is  curious 
that  the  reform  agitation  arose  not  so  much  among 
the  working  classes  themselves  as  among  the  literary 
and  cultivated  men  of  the  time.  The  impulse  given 
has  been  taken  up  by  others  of  a  different  type,  but  the 
first  impulse  arose  from  the  most  intellectual  class  of 
men  in  England.  Precisely  the  same  thing,  though  in  an 
immensely  greater  degree,  took  place  before  the  French 
Kevolution. 

There  is,  again,  a  general  stir  and  discontent  with  the 
state  of  the  poor.  We  are  awaking  at  last  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  our  neglect,  of  the  inadequacy  of  our  means 
of  relief ;  of  the  shame  which  li-es  heavier  on  us  than  on 
any  of  the  leading  nations  of  the  West,  of  the  insufficient 
education  of  the  poor  ;  of  their  disgraceful  housing,  of 
our  own  indifference  to  human  suffering  and  neglect 
of  sanitary  measures.  We  feel  that  our  modes  of  govern- 
ing in  these  matters  have  openly  and  completely  broken 
down.  At  no  other  time  do  we  remember  so  great  an 
indignation  and  contempt  among  just  men  for  official 
imbecility. 

If  many  of  us  are  stirred  into  dissatisfaction  with 
things  as  they  are,  some  of  us  are  more  than  dissatisfied 
with  much   of  English  life.     We  used  to  boast  of  our 


156  yohn  the  Baptist,  the  hiterpreter. 

business  habits,  and  tliink  ourselves  excellent  organizers ; 
now  we  smile  somewhat  bitterly  at  our  boast. 

Public  mismanagement  has  wasted  millions  of  money 
in  works  of  war.  The  expenditure  has  been  so  reckless 
as  almost  to  amount  to  dishonesty.  Better  organization 
might  have  saved  at  least  a  fourth  of  the  money  for  re- 
productive expenditure.  Men  do  not  seem  to  see  that 
public  economy,  in  order  to  civilize  our  degraded  classes, 
is  as  much  a  Christian  duty  for  a  nation,  as  private 
economy,  in  order  to  be  able  to  be  charitable,  is  for  an 
individual. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  standard  of  social  and  political 
morality  is  far  lower  than  the  time  at  which  we  live  de- 
mands. The  past  seems  to  have  taught  us  very  little. 
Our  elections  are  so  conducted  that  the  future  members  of 
Parliament  are  in  many  cases  wittingly  actors  of  a  lie, 
.shutting  their  eyes,  on  the  pretence  that  the  money  is 
given  for  expenses  which  they  know  is  for  bribery.  The 
money  goes  to  debase  and  enslave  the  voter,  and  it  is 
plain  that  those  who  bribe  are  morally  more  guilty  than 
those  who  are  bribed,  as  much  more  as  the  tempter  is 
worse  than  the  tempted.  The  worst  feature  in  the  case 
is  the  amusement  which  this  corruption  seems  to  afford  to 
English  society.*  ^  There  is  an  old  saying  that  they  are 
fools,  men  without  sense,  who  make  a  mock  at  sin. 

Step  lower  in  the  social  scale,  come  from  Parliament 
to  monetary  life.     English  honesty  was  once  a  proverb ; 

*  I  leave  this  because  it  was  true  in  1866,  as  the  record  of  the  Com- 
mittees on  Yarmouth  and  Totness  prove.  It  is  a  proof  of  the  revolution 
of  thought  spoken  of  in  this  sermon,  that  in  little  more  than  two  years 
the  above  sentence  has  become  untrue.  I  wish  I  could  say  the  same  for  the 
sentences  which  follow. 


yoJm  the  Baptist^  the  Ijiterpreter,  157 

English  distionest}^,  unless  we  repent,  will  soon  become 
the  second  reading  of  the  proverb.  There  is  no  need  to 
dwell  upon  the  dishonesty  of  speculations — the  made-up 
balance-sheets — the  ruin  of  thousands  by  selfish  greed, 
which  have  disgraced  our  banks,  railways,  and  com- 
mercial houses — the  false  balance  and  the  cruel  adultera- 
tion, the  lying  advertisements  which  dishonour  our  trade. 
It  is  enough  to  say  that  no  man  who  loves  his  country 
can  see  this  widespread  system  of  theft  and  falsehood 
without  dismay. 

There  is  much  more,  but  enough  of  this.  The  cheerful 
thing  we  see  in  it  is,  that  men's  hearts  are  beginning 
to  be  stirred  with  dissatisfaction  and  hatred  of  it  all. 
Increase  that  dissatisfaction,  deepen  that  hatred,  by  all 
the  means  in  your  power.  "Work  in  society,  so  far  as  it 
is  given  you,  the  Baptist's  work.  Stir,  arouse  men  to  see 
these  evils,  and  cry  to  them,  Eepent,  for  Christ  is  coming 
to  thi'oughly  purge  His  floor.  For  come  He  will  to  these 
things,  to  rebuke  and  chasten.  We  know  not  how  His 
advent  may  appear  ;  it  may  be  in  political  or  national 
disgrace,  it  may  be  in  the  bitter  punishments  of  war, 
it  may  be  in  reformation,  or  in  revolution — but  one 
thing  we  do  know,  that  things  so  evil  cannot  last  long 
without  their  natural  penalty.  Our  widespread  dis- 
satisfaction means  that  Christ  is  coming  to  change  so- 
ciety, perhaps  to  shake  down  the  old  edifice  altogether. 
Pray  that  He  may  come  to  reform,  and  not  to  punish 
penally,  and  while  you  pray  act  like  Christian  men  against 
these  evils.  '  Stir  up,  0  Lord,  the  wills  of  Thy  faithful 
people.' 

In  passing  from  outward  to  inward  life,  we  find  the 


158         yohn  the  Baptist^  the  Interpreter, 

same  stir  and  awaking.  For  many  years  ttere  lias  not 
been  so  great  an  excitement  of  the  human  spirit  in 
England,  the  characteristic  peculiarity  of  which  is  that 
no  one  knows  what  to  make  of  it  or  how  it  will  end. 
We  need  some  one  to  tell  us  what  it  means,  to  express 
it  for  us  and  to  point  out  the  path  into  which  we  should 
direct  all  its  scattered  energies  —  we  want  a  John  the 
Baptist. 

The  excitement  shows  itself  in  many  ways.  Among 
many  of  the  laity  there  is  a  contempt  and  neglect  of 
religion  as  taught  from  pulpits  and  books.  Thousands 
never  enter  a  church.  They  say  that  what  they  hear  has 
nothing  to  do  with  their  daily  life,  is  apart  from  all  their 
interests.  Yet  there  is  a  really  passionate  desire  to  find 
truth,  to  gain  some  light  upon  the  ever- recurring  pro- 
blems of  life,  to  escape  from  the  improductive  state  of 
scepticism.  They  are  willing  to  accept  Christianity,  but 
they  demand,  and  justly,  that  it  should  explain  and  be 
applicable  to  the  life  of  this  century.  If  it  is  a  universal 
religion,  its  principles  should  throw  light  upon  our  social, 
commercial,  and  political  difficulties  as  well  as  on  our 
spiritual  ones. 

Generally  speaking,  they  hear  too  little  of  these 
things.  The  commandments  and  doctrines  of  men  are 
taught  rather  than  the  principles  of  Christ ;  and  even  in 
theology  the  forms  in  which  the  teaching  is  couched  do 
not  belong  to  modern  thought.  It  is  no  wonder  that  our 
churches  do  not  attract  men  and  women  who  either  think 
or  are  disturbed  in  thought.  Until  we  cease  to  give 
them  the  husks  of  the  theology  of  thirty  years  ago  as 
food  fit  for  those  to  whom  the  very  terms  of  that  theology 


yohn  the  Baptist^  the  Interpreter.  159 

conve)^  no  meaning,  we  cannot  expect  our  preaching  to  be 
listened  to.  Men  are  crying  out  for  some  teaching  which 
will  represent  and  interpret  their  own  time. 

Turn  from  the  laity  to  the  Church,  and  note  the  state  of 
excitement  in  which  it  lives.  There  is  not  a  clergyman's 
house  in  England  in  which,  after  all  the  labours  of  the 
day,  the  great  questions  of  theology  are  not  discussed 
with  an  eagerness  almost  without  former  parallel  in  Eng- 
land. Every  new  critical  book  produces  a  storm  of  attacks 
and  replies.  No  well-known  teachers  of  any  party  can 
speak  on  any  religious  subject  without  awaking  a  quite 
disproportioned  excitement.  The  subjects  of  prayer,  of 
providences,  of  the  possibility  of  miracles,  of  the 
Eucharist,  of  the  priesthood,  are  discussed  in  the  daily 
papers  as  if  they  were,  and  in  fact  they  are,  subjects  of 
interest  to  the  British  public.  It  seems  as  if  treasures 
of  passion  were  laid  up  which  only  want  an  occasion  large 
enough  in  order  to  concentrate  themselves  into  an  out- 
burst. 

In  the  mean  time  the  clergy  themselves  run  into  all 
sorts  of  theories  without  clearty  knowing  whither  they 
are  going.  They  say  they  are  pursuing  truth  ;  but  there 
is  no  method  in  the  pursuit.  They  are  like  men  lost  in 
an  Australian  wood,  who  run  to  and  fro,  and  after  many 
hours  iind  themselves  at  the  place  they  started  from. 
Many,  in  despair  of  rest,  rush  to  find  it,  and  only  find 
stagnation,  in  the  Church  of  Rome. 

All  kinds  of  experiments  are  tried.  .  A  bishop  sets  his 
face  like  a  flint,  and  calls  in  question  the  authenticity 
of  nearly  all  the  early  history  of  the  Old  Testament. 
He  destroys,  he  does  not  dream  of  constructing.     Some 


1 6o         yohn  the  Baptist^  the  Interpreter, 

of  the  younger  clergy  employ  their  time  in  onl}^  opposing 
the  old  forms  of  religion,  forgetting  that  they  ought  to 
build,  and  not  to  overthrow  ;  forgetting  that  every  work 
of  opposition  is  a  negative  work,  and  that  a  negation  has 
no  force.  Another  body  of  clergy  have  fallen  in  love 
with  the  past,  and  seek  by  a  retrograde  movement  to  find 
God  again  in  life,  forgetting  that  God  is  always  in  front 
of  men.  They  attempt  to  revive  that  power  of  the  priest- 
hood which  England  spent  so  much  blood  and  so  many 
years  in  destroying,  and  they  are  so  blind  as  to  imagine 
that  England  will  suffer  its  revival.  In  a  hundred  ways 
the  spirit  of  men  is  stirred,  but  how  or  for  what  end  no 
one  can  yet  tell. 

Once  more,  observe  another  curious  thing.  It  is  an 
age  of  science.  The  omnipotence  of  the  human  reason 
is  declared.  The  marvellous  in  religion  is  discredited  ; 
the  supernatural  is  said  to  be  necessarily  impossible.  And 
yet,  what  do  we  see  ?  The  grossest  credulity,  not  among 
really  scientific  men,  but  among  those  who  follow  them  in 
their  denial  of  the  miracles  of  the  Scriptures,  in  their 
denial  of  the  supernatural  in  Christianity :  among  the 
readers  and  admirers  of  the  negative  schools  of  France 
and  Germany,  men  and  women,  led  away  by  charlatans, 
falling  into  the  oddest  and  most  chimerical  supernaturalism, 
disbeKeving  in  the  resurrection,  but  believing  in  spirit- 
rapping  ;  disbelieving  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Epistles  of 
S.  Paul,  but  believing  that  Bacon  writes  bad  English  and 
worse  sense,  and  that  Milton  comes  from  heaven  to  com- 
pose verses  of  which  a  school-boy  would  be  ashamed. 
This  class  of  English  society  presents  the  strange  spectacle 
of  belief  in  curious  follies  in  the  midst  of   the  decav  of 


Jolm  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter,  1 6 1 

religious  belief,  of  men  believing  in  all  sorts  of  super- 
natural influences  except  in  God. 

In  all  we  find  the  same  sort  of  general  and  undefined 
excitement  whicli  prevailed  in  the  world  before  Chris- 
tianity, and  which  has  prevailed  before  any  great  revolu- 
tion in  thought. 

There  is  no  possibility  of  affixing  a  particular  cause  to 
each  of  these  developments  of  excitement.  There  is  but 
one  cause  for  them  all.  It  is  simply  this,  that  old  things, 
old  thoughts,  old  institutions  are  ready  to  perish  ;  that 
the  old  forms  do  not  fit  the  new  thought,  the  new  wants, 
the  new  aspirations  of  men  ;  that  new  wine  has  been 
poured  into  old  bottles,  and  that  the  old  bottles  are  burst- 
ing on  every  side.  At  present  the  new  thought  is  too 
strong  for  the  old  moidds,  and  men,  sick  of  their  con- 
dition, and  finding  it  insupportable,  are  everj^where  hun- 
gering and  thirsting  for  a  change.  There  is  a  stirring  of 
all  the  surface  waters  of  English  life  and  thought,  but  no 
one  can  tell  why  they  are  stirred ;  there  is  something  at 
work  beneath  which  no  man  sees,  which  causes  all  these 
conflicting  and  commingling  currents,  all  this  trouble  on 
the  upper  waters. 

There  is,  however,  in  it  all  that  which  is  inexpressibly 
cheering.  It  tells  us  plainly  that  Christ  is  coming,  not  in 
final  judgment,  but  in  some  great  revolution  of  life  and 
thought.  '  England,'  to  quote  of  it  a  French  writer's 
words  on  Europe  before  the  outburst  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, *  resembles  a  camp  which  is  roused  by  the  first  ra3's 
of  the  dawn,  in  which  the  men_,  moving  to  and  fro  among 
one  another  and  agitated,  are  waiting  till  the  sun,  rising 
in  full  radiance,  points  out  to  them  the  path  they  have  to 


1 62         John  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter, 

follow,  and  lights  it  up  for  their  march.'  We  are  waiting 
for  the  Sun  of  righteousness  to  rise,  and  to  illumine  the 
new  way  on  which  we  are  entering. 

Lastly.  It  is  the  cry  of  some,  Repress  all  this  stir,  all 
this  inquiry  ;  it  is  dangerous.  Hold  fast  to  the  old  forms  ; 
they  are  the  only  safe  ones. 

No,  brethren  ;  it  is  this  very  thing  which  we  icill  not 
do  if  we  be  wise.  Stop  inquiry  ?  Stop  the  Ganges  in 
full  flow  to  the  sea !  Try  it,  and  the  result  is  only  the 
roar  of  the  river,  the  overflow  which  devastates  the 
countr}^,  the  sweeping  away  of  your  feeble  barrier  and  the 
rush  as  before  of  the  great  river  to  the  ocean.  Hold  fast 
to  the  old  forms !  What,  when  they  are  dead,  when  the 
Spirit  inspires  them  no  more?  No;  we  wish  to  live — and 
we  die  spiritually  if  we  cling  to  what  is  spiritually  dead, 
as  we  perish  politically  if  we  cling  to  what  is  politically 
dead.  We  do  not  want  to  be  without  forms  ;  but  a  new 
spirit  is  coming  on  us,  and  it  will  create  new  forms  for  it- 
self. For,  to  make  use  of  S.  Paul's  words  in  a  different 
meaning,  but  in  an  analogous  one,  we  do  not  want  to  be 
^  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,  that  mortality  may  be  swal- 
lowed up  of  life.' 

Therefore  we  are  bound  to  keep  up  this  stir  of  life,  this 
excitement  of  thought.  Let  us  be  ready  for  our  John  the 
Baptist  when  he  comes ;  let  us  pray  for  the  interpreter 
and  the  awaker  who  will  come  and  say  to  us,  '  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand.'  '  Behold,  the  Bridegroom 
Cometh  !  go  ye  forth  to  meet  Him.'  Let  us  live  in  prayer, 
and  progress,  and  patient  watching  for  his  presence. 
Before  long  he  will  arrive  in  a  great,  though  perhaps  a 
slow  revolution  in  English  religious  thought,  and  when 


Johfi  the  Baptist,  the  Interpreter.  163 

once  we  tiave  been  moved  by  that,  there  will  be  a  great 
revolution  in  English  life,  and  once  more  we  may  be  proud 
of  a  regenerated  country. 

'  Stir  up,  then,  0  Lord,  tlie  wills  of  Thy  faithful  people, 
that  they,  plenteously  bringing  forth  the  fruit  of  good 
works,  may  of  Thee  be  plenteously  rewarded,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.' 


M  2 


164  Devotion  to  the  Conventional. 


[June  14,  1868.] 

DEVOTION  TO  THE  CONVENTIONAL. 
Acts  yii.  51 — 53. 

The  rejection  of  Christ  by  tlie  Jewish  people  was  a 
national  sin  ;  it  was  the  act  of  the  whole  nation.  His  death 
was  the  result  of  the  full  development  of  the  then  Jewish 
mode  of  looking  at  the  world — the  spirit  of  the  age^  among 
the  Jews,  killed  Him. 

I  put  it  in  that  way  because  the  term,  a  national  sin, 
wants  a  clear  definition.  It  is  used  at  present  in  a  way 
which  is  quite  reckless  of  any  settled  meaning.  Every 
party,  even  every  sect  in  the  country,  declares  its  op- 
ponents guilty  of  a  national  sin.  But  a  national  sin 
is  not  an  evil  done  by  any  one  party  to  the  nation,  but 
an  evil  done  by  the  nation  itself,  a  direct  evil  con- 
sciously chosen  and  adhered  to ;  or  an  evil  neglect  or 
blindness  which  take  their  rise  from  the  whole  tone 
and  spirit  of  the  mass  of  the  people.  I  might  mention 
courses  of  political  action  in  which  England  has  per- 
sisted for  years,  through  all  changes  of  party,  which  are 
of  the  character  of  national  sins,  but  I  will  content  my- 
self with  an  illustration,  which  will  not  stir  up  anger. 
Apart  from  political  acts  or  political  opinions,  on  which 
the  generality  of  the  people  act,  the  national  sin  of  the 
^England   of  to-day   is   extravagance,   waste    of    money. 


Devotion  to  the  Conventional,  165 

From  the  administration  of  tlie  army  and  navy  down 
to  the  administration  of  the  household  of  the  poorest 
dock  labourer,  there  is,  generally  speaking,  no  conscien- 
tious, educated,  cultured  expenditure  or  care  of  money. 
The  poor  are  even  more  extravagant,  more  reckless,  than 
the  rich.  And  the  dreadful  punishment  which  follows 
on  the  sin  of  waste  of  money  is  this,  that  the  nation  be- 
comes blind  to  the  true  uses  of  money.  It  spends 
nearly  15,000,000  a  year  on  its  army,  and  a  little  more 
than  1,000,000  on  education — so  intense  an  absurdity 
that  it  only  seems  necessary  to  mention  it  to  expose  it. 
It  spends  10,000,000  a  year  upon  its  navy,  and  is  so 
stingy  towards  the  science  which  developes  the  intellect 
of  the  whole  people,  and  towards  the  art  which  exalts 
and  refines  the  soul,  as  only  to  vote  about  100,000  a 
year  for  these  objects ;  so  that  things  the  value  of  which 
cannot  be  represented  in  money,  and  on  which  great 
sums  have  been  spent,  are  perishing  for  want  of  a  little 
wise  expenditure.  We  are  extravagant  where  we  ought 
to  be  economical,  and  economical  where  we  ought  to 
expend  freely.  This  is  our  punishment,  and  future 
Englishmen  will  look  back  with  amazement  upon  this 
time,  when  we  spent  millions  on  war-ships  the  guns  of 
which  cannot  be  served  in  a  fresh  breeze,  and  left,  to  take 
one  example,  for  want  of  a  few  thousands,  the  noblest 
specimens  of  Assyrian  art  to  rot  rapidly  away  in  a  damp 
cellar  in  the  British  Museum.  Not  many  months  have 
passed  since  the  great  representation  of  a  lion  hunt, 
carved  thousands  of  years  ago  by  an  artist  who  puts 
our  animal  sculpture  to  shame,  and  who  worked  from 
personal  observation  of  the  lion  in  his  vigorous  contest 


1 66  Devotion  to  the  Coiwentional. 

and  in  his  agony,  has  been  placed  in  that  deadly  vault. 
Now,  so  rapid  has  been  the  destruction,  that  in  certain 
parts  there  is  scarcely  a  vestige  left  of  the  labour  of  the 
noble  hand,  and  a  white  fluff  of  damp,  gathering  upon  the 
stone,  has  eaten  away  all  the  delicate  lines  and  subtle 
carving  over  a  great  part  of  the  work.  In  a  few  years  or 
so,  in  spite  of  the  glazing,  the  whole  may  be  corrupt  dust. 
I  have  mentioned  this  partly  in  the  hope  that  it  will  be 
taken  up  by  some  one  who  has  some  interest  left  in  these 
subjects,  and  some  influence  to  use  upon  them,  and  partly 
to  show  how  a  national  sin,  like  extravagance,  avenges 
itself  by  stinginess  in  matters  where  stinginess  is  destruc- 
tion and  disgrace. 

But  one  of  the  worst  of  national  sins  is  the  rejection 
or  the  neglect  by  the  mass  of  the  people  of  the  great 
men  whom  God  has  sent  to  save  the  nation,  to  teach 
the  nation,  or  to  give  ideas  to  the  nation.  It  is  a  proof 
of  the  perfect  culture  of  a  people,  of  its  being  truly  civil- 
ized, in  intellect  and  spirit  as  well  as  in  prosperity, 
when  it  recognizes,  as  it  were  intuitively^  its  great  men, 
puts  them  forward  at  once  as  rulers,  and  obeys  their 
guidance.  It  is  a  proof  of  its  failing  power,  of  its 
retrogression,  of  its  diseased  condition,  when  it  neglects, 
despises,  or  kills  its  great  men.  Of  this  proposition,  for 
the  two  are  one,  history  supplies  a  thousand  instances. 
For  the  man  of  noble  genius,  the  prophet,  or  whatever 
else  you  call  him,  is  the  test  of  the  nation.  He  exists 
not  only  to  do  his  own  active  work,  but  to  passively 
prove  what  is  true  gold  or  false ;  and  as  many  as  he 
saves  he  dooms.  Those  are  lost  who  reject  him — the 
whole  nation  is  lost  if  the  whole  nation  rejects  him — for 


Devotion  to  the  Conventional.  167 

it  is  not  lie  so  much  whom  it  rejects  as  the  saving  ideas  of 
which  he  is  the  vehicle. 

Hence,  when  such  a  man  appears,  the  question  on  which 
hangs  the  fate  of  the  people  is  this  :  AVill  the  nation  re- 
cognize him  or  not ;  will  it  envy  and  destroy  him,  or 
believe  in  him  and  follow  him  ? 

That  question  which  has  again  and  again  been  placed 
before  the  nations  of  the  world,  was  placed  in  the  most 
complete  manner  before  the  Jews  at  the  appearance  of 
Christ,  the  perfect  Man — is  placed  in  Him  before  each  of 
us  as  individual  men — since  He  was  not  only  the  repre- 
sentation of  that  which  was  noblest  in  the  Jewish  nation, 
but  of  that  which  is  noblest  in  humanity.  Christ  was  the 
test  of  the  Jewish  nation,  and  His  rejection  by  them  proved 
that  they  were  lost  as  a  nation.  Christ  is  the  test  of  each 
of  us,  and  our  acce23tance  or  rejection  of  Him  proves  that 
we  are  worthj^  or  unworthy  of  our  humanity.  This  passive 
unconscious  work  of  Christ  was  recognized  by  the  wisdom 
of  the  old  man  Simeon  when  he  said,  ^  This  child  is  set 
for  the  fall  and  the  rising  again  of  many  in  Israel.'  It 
was  recognized  by  Christ  Himself  in  many  of  His 
parables,  notably  when  He  said,  ^  For  judgment,'  i.  e.  for 
division,  for  sifting  of  the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  '  am  I 
come  into  the  world.' 

And  so  it  was,  wherever  He  went  He  was  the  touch- 
stone, of  men.  Those  who  were  pure,  single-eyed,  and 
true-hearted  saw  Him,  clung  to  Him,  and  loved  Him ; 
those  who  were  conscious  of  their  need  and  sin,  weary 
of  long  searching  after  rest  and  not  finding,  weary  of 
conventionalities  and  hypocrisies,  believed  in  Him,  drank 
deep  of  His   Spirit,  and   found  redemption   and  repose. 


1 68  Devotion  to  the  Conventional. 

Tliey  flew  to  Ilim  as  naturany  as  steel  to  tlie  magnet. 
Those  who  were  base  of  heart  or  false  of  heart,  proud  of 
their  sm,  or  hardened  in  their  prosperous  hypocrisy,  men 
who  worshipped  the  mummy  of  a  past  religion,  naturally 
hated  Him,  recoiled  from  Him,  and,  to  get  rid  of  Him, 
hanged  Hiin  on  a  tree. 

In  doing  so — and  this  was  the  deed  of  the  mass  of 
the  people — they  destroyed  their  nationality  which  was 
hidden  in  their  reception  of  Christ.  It  is  at  least  a 
curious  coincidence  with  this  view,  that  when  the  priest- 
hood b afore  Pilate  openly  rejected  Christ  as  king,  they 
did  it  in  these  words — words  which  repudiated  their 
distinct  existence  as  a  nation — '  We  have  no  king  but 
Caesar.^ 

He  did  nothing  overt  to  produce  this.  He  simply  lived 
His  life,  and  it  acted  on  the  Jewish  world  as  an  electric 
current  upon  water  ;  it  separated  its  elements. 

It  will  not  be  without  interest  to  dwell  upon  some  of 
the  reasons  which  caused  this  rejection  of  Christ  among 
the  Jews,  and  to  show  how  the  reasons  of  the  rejection 
or  acceptance  of  Christ  are  not  primarily  to  be  found 
in  certain  spiritual  states  or  feelings  which  belong  to  a 
transcendental  region  into  which  men  of  the  world  can- 
not or  do  not  care  to  enter,  but  in  elements  of  action  and 
thought  which  any  man  may  recognize  at  work  in  the 
world  around  him,  and  in  his  own  heart ;  in  reasons  which 
arcidentical  with  those  which  cause  a  nation  to  reverence 
or  neglect  its  really  great  men,  to  lead  a  noble  or  an 
ignoble  life. 

The  first  of  these  is  devotion  to  the  conventional. 


Devotion  to  the  Conventional.  169 

It  is  practically  identical  witli  want  of  individuality, 
one  of  tlie  most  painful  deficiencies  in  our  present 
society. 

IN'ow  the  rectification  of  that  evil  lies  at  the  root  of 
Christianity.  Christ  came  to  proclaim  and  to  ensure  the 
distinct  life,  the  originality,  of  each  man.  All  the  princi- 
ples He  laid  down,  all  the  teaching  of  His  followers  as 
recorded  in  the  Epistles,  tend  to  produce  individuality, 
rescue  men  from  being  mingled  up,  indistinguishable 
atoms,  with  the  mass  of  men  ;  teach  them  that  they  pos- 
sess a  distinct  character,  which  it  is  God's  will  to  educate ; 
distinct  gifts,  which  God  the  Spirit  will  inspire  and  de- 
velope ;  a  peculiar  work  for  which  each  man  is  elected, 
and  in  performing  which  his  personality  will  become 
more  and  more  defined. 

Now  the  spirit  of  the  world,  when  it  is  conventional — 
and  when  is  it  not  ? — is  in  exact  opposition  to  this.  Its 
tendency  is  to  reduce  all  men  and  women  to  one  pattern^ 
to  level  the  landscape  of  humanit}^  to  a  dead  plain,  to  clip 
all  the  trees  which  are  growing  freely,  *  of  their  own 
divine  vitality,'  into  pollards,  to  wear  all  individuality 
down  into  uniformity.  There  must  be  nothing  original 
— in  the  world's  language,  eccentric,  erratic ;  men  must 
desire  nothing  strongly,  think  nothing  which  the  gener- 
ality do  not  think,  have  no  strongly  outlined  character. 
The  influence  of  society  must  be  collective,  it  m-ust  reject 
as  a  portion  of  it  the  influence  of  any  marked  individu- 
ality. Custom  is  to  be  lord  and  king  ;  nay,  despot.  AVe 
must  all  dress  in  the  same  way,  read  the  same  books,  talk 
of  the  same  things ;  and  when  we  change,  change  alto- 
gether, like  Wordsworth's  cloud, '  which  moveth  altogether 


1 70  Devotion  to  the  Conventional. 

if  it  move  at  all/  We  do  not  object  to  progress,  but  we 
do  object  to  eccentricity.  Society  must  not  be  affronted 
by  originality.  It  is  a  rudeness.  It  suggests  that  society 
migbt  be  better,  that  there  may  be  an  imperfection  here 
or  there.  Level  everybody,  and  then  let  us  all  collect- 
ively advance,  but  no  one  must  leave  the  ranks  or  step 
to  the  front. 

This  is  the  spirit  which  either  cannot  see,  or,  seeing, 
hates  men  of  genius.  They  are  in  conflict  with  the 
known  and  accredited  modes  of  action.  They  do  not 
paint  pictures  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients,  nor  judge 
political  events  in  accordance  with  public  opinion,  nor 
write  poems  which  the  customary  intellect  can  under- 
stand, nor  lead  a  political  party  according  to  precedent. 
They  are  said  to  shock  the  world  ;  as  if  that  was  not  the 
very  best  thing  which  could  happen  to  the  world.  So 
it  comes  to  pass  that  they  are  depreciated  and  neglected  ; 
or,  if  they  are  too  great  and  persist,  persecuted  and 
killed.  And,  indeed,  it  is  not  difficult  to  get  rid  of  them, 
for  you  have  only  to  increase  the  weight  of  the  spirit 
of  custom  and  bring  it  to  bear  upon  them,  and  that 
will  settle  the  question,  for  men  of  genius  cannot 
breathe  in  this  atmosphere,  it  kills  them  ;  the  air  must 
be  natural  in  which  they  live,  and  the  society  must  be 
free.  The  pitiable  thing  in  English  society  now  is,  not 
only  the  difficulty  of  an  original  man  existing  in  it,  but 
that  society  is  in  danger  of  becoming  of  so  dreadful  a 
uniformity  that  no  original  man  can  be  developed  in  it  at 
all.  This,  if  anything,  will  become  the  ruin  of  England's 
greatness. 

There  is,  it  is  true,  a  kind  of  re- action  going  on  at  pre- 


Devotion  to  the  Co7iventio7ial.  171 

sent  against  this  tyranny  of  society.  Young  men  and 
women,  wear}^  of  monotonous  pleasures,  are  in  rebellion, 
but  the  whole  social  condition  has  been  so  degraded  that 
they  rush  into  still  more  artificial  and  unnatural  pleasures 
and  excitements ;  in  endeavouring  to  become  free,  they 
enslave  themselves  the  more. 

Those  who  might  do  much,  do  little.  It  is  one  of  the 
advantages  of  wealth  and  high  position  that  those  who 
possess  them  may  initiate  the  uncustomary  without  a  cry 
being  raised  against  them.  But  even  with  every  oppor- 
tunity, how  little  imagination  do  they  ever  display,  how 
little  invention,  how  little  they  do  to  relieve  the  melan- 
choly uniformity  of  our  pleasures,  or  the  intense  joy less- 
ness  of  our  work  ! 

Now  this  was  precisely  the  spirit  of  the  Jewish  rt5- 
ligious  world  at  the  time  of  Christ.  Men  were  bound 
down  to  a  multitude  of  fixed  rules  and  maxims  ;  they 
were  hedged  in  on  all  sides.  It  was  all  arranged  how 
they  were  to  live  and  die,  to  repent  and  make  atonement, 
to  fast  and  pray,  to  belie-',  e  and  to  worship,  to  dress  and 
move.  It  was  the  most  finished  conventionalism  of  re- 
ligion, in  spite  of  the  different  sects,  which  the  world  has 
ever  seen. 

Then  came  Christ,  entirely  original,  proclaiming  new 
ideas,  or,  at  least,  old  truths  in  a  new  form,  making 
thoughts  universal  which  had  been  particular,  over- 
throwing worn-out  ceremonies,  satirizing  and  denounc- 
ing things  gray  with  the  dust  of  ages,  letting  in  the 
light  of  truth  into  the  chambers  where  the  priests  and 
lawyers  spun  their  webs  of  theology  to  ensnare  the 
free    souls    of    men,    trampling    down    relentlessly     the 


172  Devotion  to  the  Conventional. 

darling  customs  of  the  old  conservatism,  shocking  and 
bewildering  the  religious  society.  And  they  were  dis- 
mayed and  horrified. 

He  did  not  keep,  they  said,  the  Sabbath  day.  He 
ate  and  drank — abominable  iniquity  ! — with  publicans 
and  sinners.  He  allowed  a  fallen  woman  to  touch 
Him.  Worse  still_,  He  did  not  wash  His  hands  before 
He  ate  bread.  He  did  not  teach  as  the  scribes  did. 
He  did  not  live  the  time-honoured  and  ascetic  life  of 
a  prophet.  He  dared  to  speak  against  the  priesthood 
and  the  aristocracy ;  He  associated  with  fishermen. 
He  came  from  Nazareth  :  that  was  enough  ;  no  good 
could  come  from  Nazareth.  He  was  a  carpenter's  son, 
and  illiterate,  and  no  prophet  was  made,  or  could  be 
made,  out  of  such  materials.  And  this  man  !  He  dares 
to  disturb  us,  to  contest  our  maxims,  to  set  at  nought 
our  customs,  to  array  Himself  against  our  despotism. 
*  Come,  let  us  kill  Him  ;  ^  and  so  they  crucified  Him. 
The  conventional  spirit  of  society  in  Jerusalem,  that 
was  one  of  the  murderers  of  Christ :  they  did  not  see, 
the  wretched  men,  that  in  murdering  Him  they  murdered 
their  nation  also. 

So  far  for  this  conventional  spirit  as  that  which  hinders 
the  development  or  obstructs  the  work  of  genius,  and  as 
that  which,  in  strict  analogy  with  its  work  to-day,  killed 
the  Prince  of  Life  long  ago  in  Jerusalem  ;  let  me  take 
the  question  now  out  of  the  realm  of  thought  and  history, 
and  apply  it  practically. 

Ask  yourselves  two  questions  :  first,  what  would  be  the 
fate  of  Christ  if  He  were  suddenly  to  appear  as  a  teacher 


Devotion  to  the  ConventiojiaL  173 

in  tte  middle  of  London,  as  He  did  of  old  in  tlie  middle 
of  Jerusalem  ?  How  would  our  orthodox  religious  society 
and  our  conventional  social  world  receive  Him  ?  Desir- 
ing to  speak  with  all  reverence,  He  would  horrify  the 
one  by  His  heterodox  opinions,  as  they  would  be  called ; 
the  other  by  His  absolute  carelessness  and  scorn  of 
many  of  the  very  palladia  of  society.  Su^Dposing  He 
were  to  denounce — as  He  would  in  no  measured  terms — 
our  sj^stem  of  caste ;  attack,  as  He  did  of  old  in  Judiea, 
our  most  cherished  maxims  about  j)i'operty  and  rights ; 
live  in  opposition  to  certain  social  rules,  receiving 
sinners,  and  dining  with  outcasts ;  tear  away  the 
flimsy  veil  of  words  whereby  we  excuse  our  extrava- 
gance, our  vanity,  our  pushing  for  position ;  contemn 
with  scorn  our  accredited  hypocrisies,  which  we  think 
allowable  because  they  make  the  surface  of  society 
smooth  ;  live  among  us  His  free,  bold,  unconventional, 
outsjDoken  life ;  how  should  we  receive  Him  ?  It  is  a 
question  which  it  is  worth  while  that  society  should  ask 
itself. 

I  trust  more  would  hail  His  advent  than  we  think.  I 
believe  the  time  is  come  when  men  are  sick  of  falsehood, 
sick  of  the  tyranny  of  custom,  sick  of  living  in  unreality  ; 
that  they  are  longing  for  escape,  longing  for  a  new  life 
and  a  new  order  of  things,  longing  for  some  fresh  ideas  to 
come  and  stir,  like  the  angel,  the  stagnant  pool.  What  is 
the  meaning  of  the  vague  hopes  everywhere  expressed 
about  the  new  Parliament  ?  It  really  means  that  England 
is  anxious  for  a  more  ideal,  a  more  true  and  serious  life,  a 
reformed  society. 

Again,  to  connect  this  first  question  with  the  religious 


174  Devotion  to  the  Conventional. 

world  :  suppose  Christ  were  to  come  now  and  proclaim 
in  Scotland  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  or  to 
preach  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  as  the  full  revelation 
of  God  to  men  accustomed  to  hear  the  Gospel  scheme 
discussed  each  Sunday  ;  in  the  first  case  He  would  be 
persecuted  as  an  infidel,  and  in  the  second  as  a  heretic. 
Sup230sing  He  were  now  to  speak  against  sacerdotal  pre- 
tension, or  the  worship  of  the  letter  of  the  Bible ;  against 
a  religion  which  sought  to  gain  life  from  minute  ob- 
servances, or  against  a  Sadducean  denial  of  all  that  is 
spiritual  (a  tendency  of  the  religious  liberals  of  to-day),  as 
strongly  and  as  sharply  as  He  spoke  at  Jerusalem,  how 
would  He  escape  ?  The  religious  world  could  not  crucify 
Him,  but  they  would  open  on  Him  the  tongue  of  perse- 
cution. 

I  believe  there  are  thousands  who  would  join  them- 
selves to  Him,  thousands  more  than  recognized  Him 
in  Judsea — for  the  world  has  advanced  indeed  since 
then — thousands  of  true  men  from  among  all  religion's 
bodies,  and  thousands  from  among  those  who  are  now 
plentifully  sprinkled  with  the  ej)ithets  of  rationalists, 
infidels,  heretics,  and  atheists  ;  but  there  are  thousands 
who  call  themselves  by  His  name  who  would  turn  from 
Him  in  dismay  or  in  dislike,  who  would  neglect  or 
persecute  Him,  for  He  would  come  among  our  old 
conservatisms  of  religion,  among  our  doctrinal  systems 
and  close  creeds,  superstitions,  false  liberalisms,  priest- 
hoods, and  ritualisms,  as  He  came  of  old  among  them 
all  in  Jerusalem,  like  lightning,  to  consume  and  wither 
everything  false,  retrograde,  conventional,  restricted, 
uncharitable,  and   superstitious ;    to  kindle  into  life   all 


Devotion  to  the  ConventionaL  175 

tliat  is  living,  loving,  akin  to  light  and  Ml  of  truth 
within  our  religious  world.  If  we  could  accept  the  re- 
volution He  would  make,  our  national  religion  would  be 
saved,  if  not  it  would  be  enervated  by  the  blow  and  die: 

Brethren,  we  ought,  realizing  these  things  as  members 
of  society,  or  members  of  any  religious  body — realizing, 
I  saj^,  Christ  speaking  to  us  as  He  would  speak  now — 
to  feel  our  falseness,  and,  in  the  horror  of  it,  to  act  like 
men  who  have  discovered  a  traitor  in  their  camp,  whom 
they  must  destroy  or  themselves  perish.  We  may  save 
our  nation  if  we  resolve,  each  one  here  for  himself,  to  free 
oui'selves  from  cant,  and  formalism,  and  superstition,  to 
step  into  the  clear  air  of  freedom,  individuality,  and  truth, 
to  live  in  crystal  uprightness  of  life  and  holiness  of 
heart. 

And  lastty,  ask  yourselves  this  second  question,  how 
far  the  spirit  of  the  w^orld,  as  devotion  to  convention- 
alit}^,  to  accredited  opinion,  is  preventing  you  personally 
from  receiving  Christ  ? 

Is  your  sole  aim  the  endeavour  to  please  your  party, 
running  after  it  into  that  which  you  feel  as  evil,  as 
well  as  that  which  you  feel  as  good ;  forfeiting  your 
Christian  individuality  as  a  son  of  God,  that  you  may 
follow  in  the  wake  of  the  public  opinion  of  your  party  ? 
Is  that  your  view  of  manly  duty  ?  Then  you  cannot 
receive  Christ,  for  He  demands  that  you  should  be  true  to 
your  .own  soul. 

Are  yoij  permitting  yourself  to  chime  in  with  the  low 
morality  of  the  day,  to  accept  the  common  standard 
held  by  the  generality,  repudiating,  as  if  it  were  a  kind 
.of  Christian  charity  to    do  so,  the    desire    to  be  better 


176  Devotion  to  the  ConventionaL 

than  your  neiglibourSj  and  so  coming  at  last  to  join  in 
the  light  laugh  with  which  the  world  treats  social  im- 
moralities, reckless  extravagance,  the  dishonesty  of  trade 
or  the  dishonesty  of  the  exchange,  or  the  more  flagrant 
shame,  dishonesty,  and  folly  which  adorn  the  turf — let- 
ting evils  take  their  course  because  society  does  not 
protest  as  yet,  till  gradually  the  evils  appear  to  you 
at  first  endurable,  and  then  even  beautiful,  being  pro- 
tected by  the  deities  of  Custom  and  Fashion,  which  we 
enthrone  instead  of  God?  Are  you  drifting  into  such 
a  state  of  heart?  If  so,  you  cannot  expect  to  be  able 
to  receive  Christ,  for  He  demands  that  life  should  be 
ideal ;  not  only  moral  but  Godlike ;  not  the  prudence  of 
silence  about  evil,  but  the  imprudence  of  bold  separation 
from  evil. 

And,  leaving  much  behind,  to  come  home  to  the 
inner  spiritual  life,  is  your  religion  only  the  creature 
of  custom,  not  of  conviction  ;  only  conventional,  not 
individual?  Have  you  received  and  adopted  current 
opinions  because  they  are  current,  without  inquiry,  with- 
out interest,  without  any  effort  of  the  soul — orthodox 
because  it  is  the  fashion  to  be  orthodox,  or  heterodox 
because  it  is  the  fashion  to  be  heterodox  ?  How  can  you 
receive  Christ  ? — for  where  He  comes  He  claims  reality, 
the  living  energy  of  interest,  the  passion  of  the  soul  for 
light  and  progress.  Ye  must  be  born  again ;  born  out 
of  a  dead,  Pharisaic,  conventional  form  of  religion  into 
a  living  individual  union  with  the  life  of  God.  Some 
may  tell  you  not  to  inquire,  lest  you  should  doubt ;  not 
to  think,  but  to  accept  blindly  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church,    lest   you   should    end   in    scepticism.     Counsels 


Devotion  to  the  Conventional.  177 

of  cowardice  and  faithlessness,  productive  of  that  false 
sleep  of  the  soul  which  is  ten  times  worse  than  sce,ti- 
cism — which  takes  from  man  the  activity  of  thinking,  of 
doubting,  of  concluding ;  which  destroys  the  boundless 
joy  of  religious  personality,  the  pleasure  of  consciously 
willing,  of  full  conviction,  to  be  a  follower  of  Christ,  a 
man  at  one  with  God.  Our  faith,  when  it  is  accepted 
only  on  the  word  of  others,  is  untried  and  weak.  It  has 
the  strength  of  a  castle  which  has  never  been  attacked, 
of  a  chain  which  never  has  been  proved.  It  may  resist 
the  trial,  but  we  are  not  sure  about  it.  We  are  afraid 
of  search,  afraid  of  new  opinions,  afraid  of  thought, 
lest  possibly  we  lose  our  form  of  faith.  Every  infidel 
objection  makes  us  tremble,  every  new  discovery  in 
science  is  a  terror.  Take  away  the  old  form,  and  we  are 
lost,  we  cry  out  that  God  is  dead  and  Christ  is  over- 
thrown. 

In  reality  we  have  no  faith,  no  religion,  no  God.  We 
have  only  a  superstition,  a  set  of  opinions,  and  instead  of  a 
living  God,  a  fetish. 

The  true  religious  life  comes  of  a  clear  realization  of  our 
distinct  personal  relation  to  God.  The  views  of  society, 
the  accredited  opinions  of  the  Church  on  religion,  the 
true  man  does  not  despise ;  he  seeks  to  understand  them, 
for  perhaps  they  may  assist  him  in  his  endeavours ;  but 
he  does  not  follow  them  blindly,  he  puts  them  even  aside 
altogether,  that  he  maj^  go  straight  to  God,  and  find  God 
for  himself,  and  as  a  person  know  that  God  is  his,  and  that 
he  is  God's.  His  faith  is  secure,  because  he  has  won  it  by 
conquest  of  objections,  because  he  has  reached  it  through 
the  overthrow  of  doubt,  because  he  has  proved  it  in  trial 


178  Devotion  to  the  Converitional. 

and  found  it  strong.  He  has  come  at  truth  by  personal 
thought,  reflection,  by  personal  struggle  against  falsehood, 
through  the  passion  and  effort  of  his  soul.  His  love  of 
Christ  is  not  a  mere  religious  phrase,  it  is  a  reality.  He 
has  applied  the  principles  of  the  Redeemer's  life  aad  words 
to  his  own  life  ;  to  the  movements  of  the  world ;  as  tests 
and  direction  in  the  hours  of  trial,  when  duties  clash,  or 
when  decision  is  demanded;  and  he  has  found  them 
answer  to  the  call.  He  has  studied  the  Saviour's  character 
and  meditated  on  His  life,  and  of  conviction  he  has  chosen 
Him  as  the  highest  object  of  his  worship,  as  the  ideal  to 
which  he  aspires. 

Prayer  is  no  form  of  words  to  him ;  he  has  known  and 
proved  its  power  to  bring  his  soul  into  blest  communion 
with  the  Highest.  He  does  not  hesitate  to  speak  the 
truth,  for  he  feels  that  he  is  inspired  of  God. 

Such  a  man's  religion  is  not  conventional,  has  no  fear, 
is  not  superstitious ;  it  is  individual,  it  is  Im,  inwoven 
with  his  life,  part  of  his  being;  nay,  it  is  his  being. 
He  is  consciously  at  one  with  God.  He  has  freelj^ 
with  all  the  faculties  of  his  humanity,  received  Christ 
Jesus. 

Two  things,  then,  are  laid  before  you  this  day — conven- 
tional religion,  a  whited  sepulchre  ;  personal  religion,  a 
fair  temple  whose  sure  foundations  are  bound  together  by 
the  twisted  strength  of  the  innermost  fibres  of  the  soul ; 
— a  religion  of  words  accepted  from  others,  which  begins 
in  self-deception  and  ends  in  blindness,  superstition,  and 
the  terror  of  the  soul — or  a  religion  at  one  with  life,  begun 
in  resolution,  continued  in  personal  action  towards  Christ 


Devotion  to  the  Conventional.  179 

tlie  Ideal  of  the  soul,  and  ending  in  the  conscious  rest  of 
union  with  God. 

Choose  ;  and  may  God  grant  us  all  grace  to  choose 
that  which  makes  us  men,  not  the  puppets  of  opinion — 
that  life  which  frees  us  from  the  slavery  of  following  the 
multitude,  and  makes  us  sons  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord. 


1 8o  Devotion  to  the  Outward. 


[June  21,  1868.] 

DEVOTION  TO  THE  OUTWARD. 

S.  John  xviii.  36. 

This  sentence  contains  in  a  condensed  form  the  reasons 
of  the  rejection  of  Christ  by  the  Jews,  the  reasons  of  His 
rejection  by  us.  It  was  the  spirit  of  the  Jewish  world 
which  delivered  Him  to  death  ;  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  world 
which  meets  Him  now,  sometimes  with  the  contempt  of 
indifference,  more  rarely  with  the  activity  of  hatred. 
There  can  be  no  peace  between  His  spirit  and  the  worldly 
spirit ;  they  are  naturally  antagonistic.  '  My  kingdom,* 
said  He,  '  is  not  of  this  world.'  *  I  am  not  come  to  send 
peace  on  earth,  but  a  sword.' 

Now  this  is  one  of  those  declarations  which  is  seized 
upon  as  challengeable.  ^If  His  kingdom,'  says  the 
objector,  '  be  not  of  this  world,  then  what  has  He  to 
do  with  us  ?  For  we  want  a  religion  which  will  serve 
us  in  the  world,  which  will  enter  into  our  daily  life ;  we 
do  not  want  a  mysterious,  transcendental,  sequestered 
religion.' 

The  answer  to  that  is  that  the  spirit  of  the  world  is  not 
identical,  as  the  objection  seems  to  say,  with  the  spirit  of 
humanity.  The  former  is  devoted  to  that  which  is  con- 
ventional, visible,  transitory  ;  the  latter  in  its  highest  form 
is  represented  in  the  life  of  Christ  Himself. 


Devotio7i  to  the  Outward,  1 8 1 

Now  the  essential  difference  of  that  life  is  its  natural 
humanity,  not  mysterious  or  transcendental,  except  so 
far  as  our  human  nature  is  itself  so  ;  not  sequestered  but 
eminentl}^  social,  eminently  interested  not  only  in  the 
great  movements  of  humanity  but  also  in  its  trivial  trials, 
even  in  its  meanest  wants,  and  that  to  such  a  degree  that 
we  may  almost  assume  a  priori  that  whatever  Christ 
supported  and  encouraged  is  a  useful  and  vital  element  in 
the  race,  and  that  the  spirit  which  He  opposed  is  as  much 
opposed  to  the  true  interests,  as  it  is  deadly  to  the  perfect 
development,  of  humanity. 

This  we  endeavoured  to  prove,  in  one  particular,  last 
Sunday.  We  showed  that  devotion  to  the  conventional 
was  an  element  of  the  spirit  of  the  world,  and  that  not 
only  did  it  destroy  the  life  of  Christ  in  Judaea,  but  that 
wherever  it  exists  at  present  it  retards  the  development  if 
it  does  not  altogether  destroy  the  life  of  genius,  and  in 
so  doing  delaj^s  the  advance  and  injures  the  health  of  the 
race. 

Now  the  second  element  of  the  spirit  of  the  world  which 
is  at  once  opposed  to  the  advance  of  humanity  and  to  the 
spirit  of  Christ  is  devotion  to  the  outward  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  spiritual. 

The  chief  form  which  this  takes  in  England  now  is  the 
love  of  material  prosperity,  the  passion  for  wealth. 

Nearly  the  whole  of  the  energy  of  the  vast  middle 
class  in  our  country  is  absorbed  in  mone3^-getting,  and 
the  consequence  is  that  no  nation  except  America  has 
such  a  preponderant  mass  of  monotonous  prosperity  as 
England. 

To  belong  to  this  class  most  people  give  their  whole  soul ; 


I«2 


Devotion  to  the  Outward. 


to  be  excluded  from  it  by  poverty  is  to  be  excluded  from 
society.  A  man,  however  rich  in  thought,  has  but  little 
chance  of  large  social  influence  unless  he  possess  a  certain 
amount  of  money. 

The  evil  results  of  this  in  checking  the  development 
of  the  nobler  powers  in  the  mass  of  men,  and  in  injuring 
individual  genius,  are  plain.  Physical  prosperity  being 
the  ideal  of  the  nation,  and  the  generality  of  society 
giving  more  honour  to  the  man  of  10,000/.  a  year  than 
to  a  great  thinker,  a  great  artist,  or  a  great  poet,  there 
is  not  stirred  in  those  who  have  fine  powers  that  great 
enthusiasm  which  comes  when  the  interest  of  a  w^hole 
people,  as  it  was  of  old  in  Athens,  watches  over  and 
cheers  on  his  way  the  rising  genius.  He  feels  that  the 
battle  against  the  general  dulness  and  apathy  is  almost 
too  hard  for  him  to  fight,  carelessness  begins  to  injure 
his  work,  despair  creeps  towards  him,  his  wings  are 
stained  with  dust,  his  soul  is  tainted,  he  works  for  a 
public  he  despises,  and  he  despises  himself  because  he 
condescends  to  flatter  their  taste  ;  his  art,  his  literary 
labour,  suffer  from  his  self- contempt,  till  at  last  he  be- 
comes hardened,  and  often  ends,  worst  result  of  all,  by 
prostituting  his  genius  to  the  public  cry — by  painting 
pictures,  for  example,  to  be  bought,  not  to  teach  and 
elevate — ^by  placing  his  powers  under  the  feet  of  public 
opinion  instead  of  assuming  his  lordship,  and  educating 
public  opinion.  He  too  must  become  wealthy ;  we  force 
him  to  follow  us,  but  in  doing  so  we  corrupt  his  nature 
and  we  ruin  his  genius.  He  is  our  slave,  he  too  must 
work  for  the  material.  And  what  is  genius  without  free- 
dom,  without  aspiration   towards  the  ideal?     It  is   an. 


Devotion  to  the  OiUward.  183 

eagle  caged  in  a  splendid  garden.  The  kingly  bird  is 
praised  and  fed  by  admiring  visitors  who  glance  and  go 
by ;  but  the  lustre  of  the  eye  is  dimmed,  disease  is  at  its 
heart,  and  the  worst  disease  is  its  contentment :  it  has 
ceased  to  think  of  the  mountain  liberty,  ceased  to  aspire 
to  the  sun. 

That  is  the  picture  of  our  work  upon  the  men  whom 
God  has  sent  among  us. 

Again,  it  is  not  only  devotion  to  money- getting,  but 
devotion  to  material  ease,  which  prevents  the  develop- 
ment of  original  character,  and  opposes  it  if  it  should 
exist.  The  men  who  are  immensely  wealthy  have  all 
they  want.  They  do  not  care  to  work  ;  they  have  no- 
thing to  work  for.  Their  energies  are  left  undeveloped 
except  in  the  exercise  of  a  strenuous  idleness.  They 
live  habitually  in  that  comfortable  ease  which  grows 
less  and  less  inclined  to  those  great  struggles  by  which  a 
man,  with  pain  and  passion,  steps  forward  to  the  front  as 
a  king  and  guide  of  men. 

And  with  the  comfortable  mass  of  the  people^  it  is 
the  same  in  a  different  way.  Their  circumstances  are 
so  easy  that,  except  in  the  self-imposed  agony  to  be 
rich,  they  have  nothing  to  contend  against.  They 
have  but  little  pain,  except  that  of  disease,  none  of 
the  personal  contest  of  neighbour  with  neighbour  which 
made  life  in  the  middle  ages  so  dangerous,  so  suffer- 
ing, and  so  interesting.  Everything  which  shocks  our 
sensibilities  is  done  for  us ;  mechanical,  scientific  dis- 
coveries have  made  life  so  easy  to  be  lived  that  it 
runs  smoothly  down  its  polished  grooves.  We  become 
effeminate ;    a   change    in   the   weather    prostrates    our 


184  Devotion  to  the  Outward. 

energies,  a  severe  trial  makes  us  wish  to  die,  or  to 
escape  from  duty ;  we  are  indignant  with  God  and  life 
if  our  roses  are  crumpled.  This  is  not  the  soil  in  which 
the  heroic  virtues  grow.  There  is  but  little  heroism 
now  exhibited  in  England,  however  much  there  may  be 
latent.  There  is  but  little  of  that  passion  for  the  doing 
of  noble  things  which  makes  a  man  not  only  willing  but 
joyful  to  do  and  suffer  much,  to  face  pain  and  danger 
with  that  spirit  which  makes  pain  the  spur  of  energy, 
and  danger  the  drop  of  sj)ice  in  the  cup  of  life. 

There  broods  over  the  generality  an  atmosphere  of  tor- 
pidity and  slothfid  comfort  in  which  it  is  becoming  more 
and  more  impossible  for  a  man  of  genius  or  of  heroic 
character  to  develope  himself.  The  spirit  which  lives 
in  this  atmosphere  sets  itself  at  once  in  opposition  to 
any  man  who  is  rash  enough  to  overcome  the  general 
effeminacy  and  step  forth  to  challenge  the  general 
monotony.  The  world  finds  that  this  man  cannot  be 
borne.  His  ideas  are  novel,  and  novel  ideas  are  vaguely 
felt  to  be  dangerous  to  the  general  ease.  We  do  not 
understand  him,  and  everything  which  is  incompre- 
hensible is,  as  such,  not  only  insolent  to  half-developed 
intellects,  but  also  afflicts  them  with  the  same  sort  of 
blind  fear  with  which  a  savage  nation  looks  upon  any 
great  exertion  of  the  forces  of  nature,  the  cause  of 
which  it  cannot  comprehend.  The  general  mediocrity 
becomes  angry  with  a  particular  exhibition  of  excel- 
lence. The  man  himself  increases  this  anger  ;  for  he 
will  not  bow  down  to  the  great  golden  image,  he  will 
not  subscribe  to  the  articles  of  commerce,  nor  swear 
allegiance  to  my  Lord  Prosperity.     We  either  treat  him 


Devotion  to  the  Outward,  183 

as  a  heretic,  and,  if  we  cannot  persecute  him,  neglect 
him,  ridicule  him,  or,  worse  still,  we  let  loose  upon  him 
the  overwhelming  river  of  misplaced  and  ignorant  praise. 
We  blame  him  for  what  is  greatest  in  him,  we  praise 
him  for  that  which  is  common  or  conventional,  and  so 
it  comes  to  pass  that  he  either  succumbs,  if  weak,  under 
our  praise,  and  does  only  what  is  common,  or  he 
struggles  on,  panting  for  breath  in  the  atmosphere  of 
dull  panegyric,  till  at  last  he  dies  of  the  infliction.  He 
cannot  fawn  and  flatter  those  whom  he  knows  to  be 
inferior  to  himself,  except  in  the  matter  of  wealth,  and 
if  he  wants  success  he  must  on  the  whole  crawl  for  it.  If 
he  refuses  to  follow  the  line  marked  out  for  him,  no 
one  buj^s  his  work  till  he  has,  after  many  years  of  ex- 
Tiaustive  struggle,  conquered.  AYhen  the  victory  comes 
the  man  is  outworn.  He  feels  himself  called  u]3on  to 
oppose  the  views  of  common  men,  to  traverse  their  cut 
and  dried  opinions,  to  teach  them  what  is  beautiful  and 
just  and  heroic  in  art,  in  politics,  in  thought,  in  action, 
and  they  resent  the  impertinence  instead  of  reverencing 
the  master.  To  teach  them !  in  whom  lies  hid  all  the 
greatness  of  England,  that  wealth,  that  comfort,  that  com- 
mercial force,  which  every  other  nation  envies  and  adores. 
It  is  incredible  audacity.  ^  What  is  his  one  voice  to  the 
grand  tone  of  our  collective  wisdom  ?  The  man  must  be 
put  down.' 

So  it  is  (for  I  need  not  dwell  on  it  longer)  that  men  of 
genius,  of  individuality,  are  becoming  rarer  and  rarer; 
their  influence,  when  they  happen  to  exist,  of  less  and  less 
power  upon  the  money-getting  masses. 

Devotion  to  the  outward  kills  the  unseen  thino^s  which 


1 86  Devotion  to  the  Outward. 

belong  to  genius  as  mucli  as  tlie  unseen  things  which 
belong  to  the  Christian  life.  It  is  as  deadly  to  imagin- 
ation as  it  is  to  spirituality.  It  is  as  destructive  of  the 
true  interests  of  humanity  as  it  was  in  old  time  of  the  life 
of  Christ. 

This  latter  part  of  the  subject  is  now  our  theme. 

It  was,  I  repeat,  this  element  in  the  spirit  of  the  world 
— devotion  to  the  outward  alone — which  helped  to  crucify 
Christ  Jesus. 

The  form  it  took  among  the  Jews  was  in  appearance 
noble.  It  was  not  a  passion  for  wealth,  but  it  was  a 
passion  for  the  restoration  of  their  freedom.  It  was  a 
splendid  outward  empire  for  which  they  longed,  a  fierce 
Jewish  pride  which  they  indulged.  They  cried  out  for 
the  Messiah  to  come  as  a  triumphant  Jew,  to  make 
Jerusalem  the  capital  of  the  world,  to  tread  the  hated 
Gentile  under  foot.  They  were  not,  as  we  are,  sunk 
in  comfort ;  they  were  not  sluggish,  the  fierce  Jewish 
spirit  blazed  in  them ;  they  were  not  unheroic,  no 
greater  heroism  has  ever  been  recorded  than  that  of  the 
last  struggle  with  Rome  ;  but  the  outwardness,  if  I  may 
coin  a  word,  the  worldliness  of  their  conception  vitiated 
its  nobility.  Even  within  their  own  circle  the  same 
spirit  prevailed.  Each  party  struggled  for  political 
precedence  till  their  patriotism  was  stained  and  its  suc- 
cess destroyed  by  their  greed  of  power.  Worldliness 
gnawed  at  the  root  of  the  Jewish  heart,  and  when 
Christ  appeared  among  them,  proclaiming  Himself  the 
Messiah,  they  could  not  believe  their  ears.  This  poor 
Galilean  their  glorious  king !  this  carpenter's  son,  the 
companion   of    fishermen,    the   friend   of    publicans   and 


Devotion  to  the  Outwaj^d.  187 

sinners,  low  born,  opposed  to  the  ruling  sects,  preaching 
no  crusade  against  the  Romans,  refusing  the  proffered 
cro^Ti,  proclaiming  in  the  eloquence  of  every  act  that 
God's  true  kingdom  came  not  hj  violence  nor  by  fraud, 
was  not  established  by  conquest  over  the  bodies  of  men, 
nor  by  dazzling  the  sensuous  in  men,  but  by  obedience 
and  suffering  and  self-sacrifice  ;  was  to  be  established 
only  by  the  spiritual  power  of  pure  truth  over  the  souls  of 
men,  to  be  splendid  only  by  nobility  of  spirit,  by  purity  of 
life,  by  death  for  love  of  men — this  their  Messiah  !  this 
the  end  of  all  their  hopes  !     It  was  not  to  be  borne. 

The  moment  it  was  clear  that  He  was  resolved  to 
preach  that  His  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world,  there 
rose  against  Him  the  insulted  spirit  of  the  world,  the 
injured  worshippers  of  outward  glory.  They  tried  at  first 
to  induce  Him  to  take  up  their  ideas  ;  they  offered  Him 
the  crown,  they  even  went  so  f\ir  as  to  flatter  Him. 
*  Good  Master,'  they  said  falsely^  '  we  know  that  Thou  art 
true  and  teachest  the  way  of  God  in  truth.'  Even  His 
disciples  hoped  that  He  would  restore  the  kingdom  to 
Israel.  But  He  was  proof  against  all ;  He  rested  on  the 
Invisible ;  He  looked  far  forward  to  a  kingdom  in  the 
hearts  of  men ;  He  proclaimed  the  lordship  of  Truth 
and  Goodness  and  Love.  He  did  not  care  for  lordship 
over  either  Pharisee  or  Sadducee,  or  for  the  world-wide 
empire  of  Jerusalem  ;  all  this  He  ignored  as  if  it  existed 
not,  and  this  tacit  scorn  they  could  not  bear.  They  hated 
Him,  they  called  Him  infidel,  they  said  He  had  a  devil 
and  was  mad.  Thus  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  devotion 
to  the  outward,  they  crucified  Him,  as  the  spirit  of  de- 
votion  to   money-getting   and    ease   ignores   or    resents 


1 88  Devotion  to  the  Outward. 

now  in   England  tlie  man  whose   life    and   speech  con- 
demn it. 

For  if  Christ  were  now  to  come  among  us,  i.t  is  that 
which  He  would  denounce  and  contend  against  with  a 
force  which  would  soon  raise  up  the  cry  of  revolutionist, 
insane  enthusiast,  against  Him.  For  He  would  not 
modify  His  expressions,  nor  smooth  His  sentences,  in 
order  not  to  shock  the  temper  of  the  world.  Ask  your- 
selves how  you  would  as  a  nation  receive  a  man  who 
should  say  to  you — as,  indeed,  with  less  cause  He  said  in 
Palestine — saying  it  too  with  a  living  earnestness  which 
should  force  you  to  believe  at  least  that  he  meant  what 
he  said,  that  those  of  you  who  gave  your  whole  life  to 
accumulation  of  many  goods  were  fools;  that  it  was 
impossible  for  you  to  serve  God  and  to  serve  mammon ; 
who,  looking  on  your  devotion  to  luxuries,  should  call  on 
you  to  leave  all  and  follow  Him ;  who,  seeing  your  care- 
ful watch  over  your  comfort,  should  say  to  you  in  all 
seriousness,  '  Be  not  anxious  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall 
eat  or  what  ye  shall  drink,  nor  yet  for  your  body  what 
ye  shall  put  on.  Seek  as  the  first  thing  the  kingdom  of 
God  and  His  righteousness ; '  who,  looking  at  the  pomp 
of  your  charity,  should  say  that  the  penny  given  to  God 
out  of  her  penury  by  the  poor  widow  in  the  lane  was  in- 
finitely more  than  the  500  guineas  given  out  of  your 
abundance ;  who,  surveying  the  restless  weariness,  the 
unrelenting  joyless  fervour  with  which  men,  day  after 
day,  allowing  themselves  no  relaxation,  no  wise  moments 
of  passiveness,  sometimes  scarcely  any  natural  joy,  make 
haste  to  be  rich,  and  when  rich,  make  haste  to  be  more 
rich,  should  suddenly  touch  them  and  make  them  hear, 


Devotion  to  the  Outward.  189 

like  a  solemn  knell  of  warning,  this — '  What  advantageth 
it  you,  if  you  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  yourself  ?  ' 
How  would  the  nation  bear  such  teaching  now — not 
spoken  in  faded  accents,  in  worn-out  sentences  from  the 
pulpit,  but  driven  home  to  each  man's  heart,  so  that 
the  whole  people  could  not  get  rid  of  the  teaching  except 
by  getting  rid  of  the  man  ?  It  is  a  solemn  question,  for 
on  it  hangs  the  continuance  of  England's  greatness. 
For  when  wealth  is  preferred  to  honour,  when  honesty 
is  sacrificed  to  speculation,  when  duty  is  put  aside  if  it 
stands  in  the  way  of  fortune,  when  love  is  choked  by 
selfishness,  when  the  spiritual  powers  are  left  unculti- 
vated in  the  absorbing  haste  for  gain,  or  in  the  slumber 
of  physical  comfort,  then — unless  there  be  growing  up  a 
counteracting  influence,  the  nation  must  die,  and  it  is 
better  that  it  should  die.  I  do  not  say  we  are  j^et  in  that 
condition,  but  we  are  tending  to  it,  and  it  behoves  every 
man  who  loves  his  countrj^  to  recall  to  his  heart  the  teach- 
ing of  Christ,  and  to  live  it  out  in  opposition  to  the  spirit 
of  the  world. 

Lastly.  Ask  yourselves  personally  how  far  this  monej^- 
getting  spirit,  this  devotion  to  physical  comfort,  is  pre- 
venting you  from  receiving  Christ.  Has  that  feverish 
ardour  in  pursuit  of  wealth  seized  upon  you,  so  that  your 
inward  life  is  deprived  of  all  moments  of  calm ;  so  that 
even  in  this  church  you  are  thinking  of  buying  and 
selling  and  getting  gain;  so  that  even  at  night  you 
dream  of  your  daily  chase  after  wealth  ?  Oh  !  what  hope 
can  you  have  of  being  a  follower  of  Christ  ?  How  can  you 
receive  Him  ?  for  he  demands  the  first  worship  of  the 
soul ;  he  demands  the  growth  of  the  spirit,  the  sacrifice 


190  Devotion  to  the  Outward, 

of  time  and  wealth,  for  love  of  man.  And  you  have  no 
time  to  give  Him,  and  rfo  wealth  to  spare.  You  have 
no  sequestered  moments  during  which  His  gracious  in- 
fluences may  flow  upon  you,  there  is  no  stillness  in  your 
soul  during  which  aspiration  may  rise  to  drink  the  air 
of  heaven,  and  prayer  seclude  an  hour  for  communion 
with  the  infinite  peace  of  God's  unworldliness.  Devoted 
to  the  visible,  spending  all  your  life  on  the  material, 
how  can  you  live  for  the  invisible,  how  can  you  develope 
within  you  the  spiritual  ?  *  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world.'  Has  that  no  echo  in  your  heart — you,  whose 
kingdom  is  of  this  world — does  it  awake  no  longing  for  a 
higher  life  ;  no  note  of  sadness,  not  even  of  self-pity,  in 
your  soul ;  no  desire  to  escape  from  the  noise  and  mean- 
ness of  your  life,  the  slow  extinction  of  your  immortality  ? 
Then  indeed  it  is  ineff'ably,  infinitely  pitiful.  You  are 
deaf  to  Christ ;  you  have  gained  the  world,  but  lost 
3'ourself. 

And  you  who,  being  wealthy,  do  not  run  this  race  of 
wealth,  but  repose  upon  the  silken  cashions  of  your  life, 
whose  every  wish  is  fulfilled,  whose  every  caprice  is 
satisfied,  to  whom  every  moment  unamused  is  misery, 
passing  through  life  half  slumberously  lulled  by  unvary- 
ing comfort,,  the  lotus-eaters  of  society,  how  can  you  come 
to  Christ  ?  For  He  demands  an  active  interest  in  hu- 
manity which  will  give  you  trouble  and  disturb  your  ease. 
He  dreads  for  you  the  sleep  of  the  soul,  the  paralysis  of 
resolution,  the  absorption  of  aspiration  in  the  ease  of  life. 
He  bids  you  wake  out  of  your  dreamy  being  to  face  the 
stern  realities  of  the  world,  arise  and  sacrifice  yourself, 
stand  up  and  make  your  life  alive. 


Devotion  to  the  Outward. 


191 


And  yoii  who,  being  also  wealthy  and  at  ease,  are  j^et 
more  impetuous  at  heart,  who  do  not  eat  the  lotus,  but 
seek  in  ceaseless  excitement  relief  from  the  maddenins: 
monotony  of  comfort — if  you  really  wish  to  know  Christ, 
take  up  the  nearest  duties  of  life  which  you  now  neglect 
because  they  do  not  excite ;  assume  the  cross  which  you 
now  push  impatiently  from  your  shoulder  because  it  in- 
terferes with  your  pleasure.  There  are  certain  uninterest- 
ing or  unpleasant  duties  which  you  know  you  ought  to  do  ; 
your  nature  grown  craven  and  hating  pain,  your  will 
powerless  from  dissipation  of  effort,  recoil  from  the 
struggle.  Ee-invigorate  your  nature  and  your  will  with 
the  spirit  of  Him  whose  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world, 
and  believe  me  that,  though  there  must  be  suffering  in 
your  endeavour,  there  will  be  no  lack  of  that  higher  and 
grand  excitement  which,  born  of  difficulty  met  b}^  a  will 
set  in  resolute  tension  towards  victor}^,  makes  life  worth 
living,  and  leaves  behind  it  no  bad  taste  in  the  mouth,  no 
sore  place  in  the  heart. 

To  all  I  say,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  your  true  kingdom, 
the  true  kingdom  of  your  humanity,  is  not  of  this  world, 
not  of  the  conventional,  the  visible,  and  the  transitory. 
Come  away  from  its  mean  pursuits,  its  indolent  ease ; 
cease  to  breathe  its  atmosphere,  to  live  in  its  spirit. 
Unite  yourself  to  the  things  eternal  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Then  you  will  not  only  be  saved  yourself,  but — and 
this  is  the  higher  motive — add  an  element  of  salva- 
tion to  your  nation.  You,  at  least,  will  not  be  par- 
taker of  that  spirit  which  slew  Christ  of  old,  and  now 
threatens  to  corrupt  and  to  destroy  all  men  of  genius 
in  this  country. 


192  The  Religion  of  Signs, 


[June  28,  1868.] 

TEE  RELIGION  OF  SIGNS. 

Luke  xi.  29. 

From  the  ancient  days  of  the  people  of  Israel,  when 
Moses,  knowing  the  character  of  his  nation,  asked  of 
God  that  He  would  vouchsafe  to  him  a  sensible  sign  to 
show  as  proof  of  His  mission,  until  the  time  of  Christ,  we 
find  among  the  Jews  the  craving  for  signs  and  wonders. 

They  desired  material  proofs  for  spiritual  things,  they 
demanded  that  every  revelation  should  be  accredited  by 
miracles.  It  was  through  the  gate  of  the  senses  and 
under  the  guidance  of  wonder,  not  through  the  gate  of 
the  spirit  and  under  the  guidance  of  faith,  that  they  en- 
tered the  temple  of  Religion. 

Now  this  was  absolutely  a  childish  position.  The  child 
is  the  scholar  of  the  senses,  but  it  is  a  disgrace  to  a  man 
to  be  their  slave.  The  child  may  believe  that  the  moon  is 
self-luminous — it  is  through  believing  the  error  that  he 
finds  out  its  erroneousness — but  it  is  ridiculous  in  the 
grown-up  man  who  has  examined  the  question  not  to  say, 
'  My  senses  are  wrong.' 

It  is  spiritual  childishness  which  believes  that  a  doctrine 
or  a  man's  life  are  true  because  of  a  miracle.  The  miracle 
speaks  for  the  most  part  to  the  senses,  and  the  senses  can 
tell  us  nothing  of  the  spiritual  world. 


The  Religion  of  Sigjis.  193 

It  is  spiritual  manliood  wliicli  out  of  a  heart  educated 
by  the  experience  arising  from  the  slow  rejection  of  error, 
can  sav  of  any  spiritual  truth  *  It  is  so,  it  must  be  so.  I 
have  the  witness  of  it  within,  and  though  a  thousand 
miracles  were  to  suggest  the  denial  of  it,  I  should  cling  to 
it  unswervingly.' 

Xow,  the  positior.  of  mind  exactly  opposite  to  this  was 
that  held  b}^  a  large  number  of  the  common  Jews  and 
apparently  by  the  greater  part  of  the  chief  men.  The 
latter  demanded  signs  of  Christ  as  proof  of  the  truth 
of  His  teaching  ;  the  former  displayed  an  absolutely  sen- 
sual craving  for  miracles.  And  yet,  on  neither  of  these 
classes  did  the  miracles,  ^J^r  se,  produce  any  lasting  effect. 
The  Pharisees  confessed,  we  are  told,  the  reality  of  the 
miracle  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  and  then  immediately 
met  to  take  measures  to  put  Christ  to  death.  The 
common  people  were  so  little  impressed  with  one  miracle 
that  the}^  immediately  demanded  another,  as  if  the  first 
had  had  no  meaning. 

This  is  the  plain  spirit  of  Fetishism,  or  the  worshij)  of 
sensible  wonders  without  any  knowledge  why  the  worship 
is  given,  without  any  attempt  to  discover  why  the  wonder 
has  occurred. 

It  was  the  temptation  to  peld  to  this  passion  of  His 
time  and  to  employ  His  miraculous  power  for  the  sake 
of  winnmg  the  favour  of  the  multitude  ;  or  for  ostent- 
ation ;  or  for  the  sake  of  establishing  His  kingdom 
rapidly ;  which  Christ  conquered  in  the  trial  called  that 
of  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple.  In  that  temptation  was 
gathered  up  the  whole  meaning  of  this  part  of  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  and  in  conquering  it  at  the  outset  of 
I  0 


1 94  The  Religion  of  Signs. 

His  career,  He  conquered  it  for  His  whole  life.  Again 
and  again  it  met  Him,  but  it  met  Him  in  vain.  Even  at 
tlie  last,  tlie  voice  of  this  phase  of  the  spirit  of  the  world 
mocked  Him  upon  the  cross.  ^  If  He  be  the  King  of 
Israel,  let  Him  now  come  down  from  the  cross,  and  we 
will  believe  Him.'  They  fancied,  even  then,  that  an  out- 
ward sign  could  secure  their  faith,  as  if  those  men  could 
believe,  who  were  blind  to  the  wonder  of  love,  obedience, 
and  martyrdom  for  truth,  which,  greater  than  any  miracle, 
was  exhibited  before  their  eyes  on  Calvary. 

His  greatest  utterances,  where  all  was  great,  were 
spoken  in  the  spirit  contrary  to  this  religion  of  the 
senses.  He  threw  men  back  uj)on  the  witness  of  their 
own  heart,  '  They  that  are  of  the  truth  hear  my  voice.' 
He  declared  that  His  true  followers  know  Him  by  intui- 
tion, 'My  sheep  know  my  voice,  and  they  follow  me.' 
He  made  eternal  life  consist,  not  in  the  blind  faith 
which  came  and  went  with  the  increase  and  cessation 
of  miracle,  but  in  the  faith  which  recognized  Him 
as  the  Son  of  God ;  in  the  spiritual  union  which  He 
expressed  in  the  words,  *He  that  eateth  my  flesh  and 
drinketh  my  blood,  dwelleth  in  Me,  and  I  in  him.' 
God,  in  His  view,  was  not  the  wonder-worker  of  the 
Old  Testament,  but  a  Spirit  who  demanded  a  spiritual 
worship  arising  out  of  a  deep  conviction  of  His  necessity 
to  the  soul.  '  God  is  a  spirit,  and  they  that  worship  Him 
must  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth.'  He  swept 
away  with  fiery  and  pregnant  words  all  the  jugglery  of 
superstitious  ceremonial  with  which  men  had  overloaded 
the  simple  idea  of  God,  and  He  called  them  back  to 
natural  life  and  feeling ;  to  child-like  trust  in  a  Father 


The  Religion  of  Signs.  1 9  5 

ever  near  to  them ;  to  a  simple  and  pure  morality.  But 
at  the  same  time  He  presented  to  their  effort  a  grand 
ideal  which,  though  it  seemed  too  high  for  human  nature, 
has  yet  stirred  and  exalted  men  as  no  other  ideal  has  ever 
done — '  Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  even  as  your  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect.' 

It  was  all  too  high,  too  simple,  too  spiritual  to  please 
the  Jewish  taste.  It  is  true  he  condescended  in  a  certain 
degree  to  their  weakness  of  faith,  and  He  did  many 
mighty  works,  partly  because  He  felt  that  some  men  must 
be  first  attracted  through  the  senses,  and  partly,  as  in 
the  case  of  Nathanael,  in  order  to  confirm  a  waverinsr 
faith.  But  on  the  other  hand.  He  always  refused  to  do 
any  miracle  without  an  adequate  motive.  Where  the 
miracle  could  establish  no  principle,  where  it  was  not  pre- 
ceded by  faith,  or  where  it  did  not  teach  a  universal 
lesson,  Christ  would  not  pander  to  the  Jewish  craving  for 
a  sign.  This  was  His  stern  answer,  '  An  evil  and  adul- 
terous generation  seeketh  after  a  sign.  There  shall  no  sign 
be  given  it,'  &c. 

Stung  with  His  righteous  scorn  of  their  passion  for  the 
visible,  they  slew  Him,  and  signed  in  His  death  the  war- 
rant of  their  nation's  ruin. 

Now  I  have  been  endeavouring  to  show  that  the 
spirit  of  the  world  in  its  several  developments,  which 
killed  Christ,  is  identical  with  the  sj)irit  which  in  every 
nation  has  neglected,  enfeebled,  and  persecuted  all  iii- 
dividualitj^  originality,  or  genius,  not  only  in  religion 
but  in  philosophy,  poetr}^,  art  and  science.  We  have 
seen  this  in  the  case  of  the  worship  of  the  conventional 

0  2 


196  The  Religion  of  Signs. 

and  of  the  worship  of  gain,  ostentation,  and  comfort. 
We  have  seen  how  these  phases  of  the  spirit  of  the 
world  have  corrupted,  ruined,  and  killed  the  life  of  men 
who  rose  above  the  common  standard.  I  do  not  say 
that  this  result  is  due  altogether  to  the  spirit  of  the 
world ;  much  is  due  to  the  weakness  of  the  men  them- 
selves ;  but  we  who  are  not  gifted  men  have  no  idea  of 
the  subtlety  and  awful  force  of  the  temptations  of  the 
world  to  men  of  genius ;  we,  who  have  not  the  strength 
nor  the  weakness  of  genius,  can  scarcely  conceive  how 
cruel  and  how  debasing  the  influence  of  the  world  may  be 
when  it  masters  that  strength,  or  flatters  that  weakness 
into  folly. 

The  phase  of  the  spirit  of  the  world  of  which  we  speak 
to-day  is  that  of  devotion  to  signs  and  wonders. 

Men  of  genius  are  themselves  signs  and  wonders  in  the 
world.  How  does  the  world  treat  them  ?  It  does  not 
help  them,  it  does  not  bring  out  what  is  best  in  them  ; 
it  makes  a  show  of  them,  and  then  dismisses  them  with 
a  sigh  of  weariness.  They  are  taken  up  and  flattered 
till  all  their  strength  is  drained  away.  They  are  polished 
down  till  all  the  angles  which  made  them  of  use,  which 
jarred  upon  the  splendid  dulness,  or  irritated  into 
some  life  the  lazy  indiff'erence,  of  common  society  are 
smoothed  away,  and  the  man  ofiends  no  more  by  origin- 
ality. It  fills  one  with  pity  and  anger  to  think  how 
many  who  might  have  been  SamsOns,  and  have  smitten 
our  modern  Philistinism  to  its  death,  have  been  ensnared 
by  the  Delilah  of  feshionable  society,  and  set,  *  shorn  of 
their  puissant  locks,'  to  work  in  the  prison  and  to  make 
sport  for  the  Philistines.    We  mourn,  and  with  just  cause, 


The  Religion  of  Signs.  107 

the  loss  of  man}^  who,  born  to  be  kings,  Lave  sunk  into 
willing  slaves. 

Look  at  the  way  in  which  this  devotion  to  signs  and 
wonders  in  the  world  acts  now  upon  the  literature  of 
the  country.  In  that  sphere  it  is  represented  by  a  craving 
for  '  sensationalism '  which  results  in  intellectual  sloth. 
Men  ask  for  books  which  excite  but  give  no  trouble. 
They  have  not  time,  they  say,  to  read  slowly,  much 
less  to  read  a  book  twice  over.  A  book  genuinely 
thought  out  but  not  brilliant,  in  which  the  experience 
of  a  life  of  intellectual  work  is  concentrated,  has  scarcely 
a  chance  of  success.  The  public  are  too  indolent  to  read 
even  a  thoughtful  review  of  such  a  book,  unless  it  be 
written  in  a  sparkling  stj^le  and  flavoured  with  a  spice  of 
sensation.  Except  they  read  signs  and  wonders,  they 
will  not  read  at  all.  What  are  the  consequences  ?  Men 
of  thought,  who  are  strong  of  will  and  believe  in  them- 
selves, refuse  to  submit  to  this  tyrannical  cry  for  signs. 
They  persist  in  writing  books  of  worth  and  weight,  but 
they  do  it  in  a  kind  of  despair,  and  their  work  suffers 
from  the  dogged  dulness  which  despair  creates.  Un- 
listened  to  and  hopeless,  they  cannot  write  with  the  joy 
which  enlivens  expression,  vv^ith  the  uplifting  sense  of  a 
public  sympathy. 

Men  of  thought,  who  are  weak  of  will,  and  whose 
self-confidence  depends  upon  the  public  voice,  write  one 
book  of  power  and  then  surrender  their  high  mission. 
They  enter  on  the  career  which  demoralizes  the  finer 
powers  of  genius — the  career  of  the  reviewer  and  the 
magazine  contributor — -and  too  often  end  by  drifting  into 
the   mere  sensationalist,  writing  a   book  which,  like  an 


1 9  8  The  Religion  of  Signs, 

annual,  grows,  blooms,  and  dies  in  a  season.  They 
strain  after  brilliancy ;  not  brilliancy  for  its  own  sake,  but 
brilliancy  for  the  sake  of  show  or  favour.  They  fall  into 
the  very  temptation  which  Christ  resisted  in  the  case  of 
miracles. 

I  might  illustrate  the  subject  in  other  spheres  than 
the  sphere  of  literature,  but  enough  has  been  said  to 
show  the  operation  upon  men  of  genius  of  this  element 
of  the  spirit  of  the  world  which  as  a  craving  for  signs 
and  wonders  among  the  Jews  hurried  the  Saviour  to  the 
Cross. 

!Now,  a  society  tainted  with  the  diseased  passion  for  this 
class  of  writing  is  drifting  away  from  that  temper  of  mind 
which  can  frankly  accept  Christ  Jesus,  for  His  is  not  the 
life  which  can  satisfy  the  sensationalist. 

Separate  it  from  the  moral  glory,  the  spiritual  beauty, 
which  rose  from  it  like  a  sea  of  light  out  of  inner  foun- 
tains, and  it  is  a  common  life  enough.  Uneventful  for 
thirty  years,  the  story  of  it,  even  in  the  midst  of  its 
miracles,  is  marked  by  nothing  especially  exciting.  It 
was  in  itself  eminently  natural,  unartificial,  deep,  cool,  and 
quiet  as  a  garden- well,  passed  by  preference  among  rustic, 
uneducated  men,  amid  the  holy  serenity  of  the  mountain 
and  the  desert,  among  the  gracious  simplicities  of  natural 
beauty,  beside  the  ripple  of  the  lake,  upon  the  grass- 
grown  hill — seeking  even  at  Jerusalem  refuge  from  the 
noise  and  passion  of  the  city  in  the  peaceful  village 
of  Bethany  or  among  the  shadows  of  the  silent  garden  of 
Gethsemane. 

We  cannot  understand  it,  we  cannot  understand  Him, 
we  cannot  enter  into  the  profound  simplicity  and  truth  of 


The  Religion  of  Signs.  199 

His  teacliing,  if  we  have  habituated  our  mind  to  morbid 
excitement,  our  moral  sense  to  a  continual  violation  of  it 
in  both  French  and  English  novels,  and  our  emotions  to  a 
mental  hysteria  which  destroys  the  will.  This  may  seem 
a  slight  evil,  but  it  is  more  than  we  imagine.  We  should 
look  with  fear  upon  the  growth  of  this  temper  in  English 
society ;  it  is  denaturalizing  it.  It  renders  both  mind  and 
heart  corrupt.  It  will  end  by  making  the  life  corrupt 
and  society  impure.  Sensationalism  in  literature  is  closely 
connected  with  sensuality  in  societ}^ 

Again,  take  in  the  present  time  as  another  form  of  the 
Jewish  passion  for  signs  and  wonders,  the  existence 
among  us  of  men  and  women  with  a  passion  for  the  false 
supernatural.  The  true  supernatural  is  not  the  miraculous 
but  the  purel}^  spiritual,  not  the  manifestation  of  things 
which  astonish  the  senses  but  the  revelation  of  things 
which  ennoble  the  spirit.  In  neither  of  these  wavs  are 
the  things  with  which  we  have  been  lately  favoured 
truly  supernatural.  They  are  abundantly  material,  and 
they  do  not  ennoble.  The  last  appearance  of  the  chief 
prophet  has  not  been  characterized  by  a  surplus  of 
spirituality 

Every  day,  however,  fewer  persons  are  likely  to  be 
swept  away  by  this  spiritual  quackery,  for  as  the  ozone 
of  scientific  knowledge  is  added  to  our  social  atmo- 
sphere, these  corrupt  growths  dwindle  and  die.  But  it 
is  worth  while  perhaps  to  say  that  they  enfeeble  the 
intellect  and  do  harm  to  Christianity.  No  man  can 
long  float  in  the  misty  region  of  pale  speculation  in 
which  these  exhibitions  involve  him — speculation  which 
starts  from  no  fixed  point  and  aims  at  nothing — nor  be 


200  The  Religion  of  Signs, 

tossed  about  by  the  inconsequence  of  tbe  so-called  pheno- 
mena without  feeling  his  intellect  ebbing  away  and  its 
manliness  departing.  They  render  the  reason  a  useless 
part  of  our  being. 

So  doing,  they  do  evil  to  Christianity ;  for  to  conceive 
Christianity  grandly,  to  expound  it  nobly,  to  develope  it 
within  our  own  souls  as  fully  as  possible,  and  to  work  for 
its  perfect  kingdom,  we  need  to  unite  to  its  spiritual  power 
within  us  ^  the  power  of  a  free,  vigorous,  manly,  and  well- 
cultured  intellect.'  We  need  for  the  work  of  Christ,  not 
only  spiritual  life  as  the  first  thing,  but  intellectual  light 
as  the  second. 

Again.  One  of  the  greatest  evils  which  arise  from  the 
encouragement  of  charlatanry  of  this  kind  in  connection 
with  religion  —  and  it  is  -so  connected — is  that  it  pro- 
tracts the  period  when  the  work  of  science  and  religion, 
by  consent  of  their  several  professors,  will  advance  to- 
gether. It  causes  scientific  men  to  think  that  every- 
thino"  connected  with  relio-ion  is  inimical  to  the  methods 
of  science  ;  it  intensifies  their  opposition  to  the  thought 
of  the  supernatural  by  setting  before  them  a  false 
supernaturalism.  It  throws  contempt  upon  and  de- 
grades the  notion  of  a  spiritual  world.  It  increases  a 
credulity  on  the  one  hand  which  leads  to  gross  super- 
stition ;  it  increases  an  unbelief  on  the  other  which 
leads  to  gross  materialism.  The  extremes  of  the  two 
sides  are  set  into  stronger  opposition,  and  in  the  noise 
which  the  extreme  parties  make,  the  voices  of  wiser  men 
remain  unheard. 

One  element  of  good  hope,  however,  attends  its  ap- 
pearance among  us.     The  spirit  in  society  which  it  feeds 


The  Religion  of  Signs.  201 

has  almost  always,  in  conjunction  with  a  spirit  of  unbelief 
with  which  it  is  connected,  preceded  a  revolution  of 
thought.  It  was  so  before  the  teaching  of  Christianity. 
It  was  so  before  the  rise  of  the  Reformation.  It  was  so 
before  the  outburst  of  new  ideas  which  gave  force  to 
the  early  days  of  the  French  Revolution. 

I  have  hope  that  this  blind  confusion,  this  tossing 
together  of  the  elements  of  credulity  and  unbelief,  will 
create,  in  a  reaction  from  them,  a  rational  and  liberal 
faith. 

Analogous  to  this  is  the  endeavour  to  awake  and 
excite  religious  sensibility  either  by  the  overwrought 
fervour  of  the  revivalist,  producing  an  h3''sterical  excite- 
ment which  is  mistaken  for  a  spiritual  manifestation — 
or  by  the  sensual  impressions  made  by  the  lights,  in- 
cense, music,  colour,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  the 
ritualists.  I  do  not  deny  the  real  enthusiasm,  however 
cruelly  mistaken  in  its  mode  of  action,  nor  the  good 
which  many  of  the  revivalists  have  done  ;  nor  the  good 
and  the  enthusiasm  which  follow  the  efforts  of  the 
ritualist,  but  in  a  certain  degree  they  both  agree  in  this 
— they  try  to  produce  spirituality  from  without.  They 
make  use  of  stimulants  which  are  unnatural  in  relation 
to  the  spirit,  though  natural  in  their  relation  to  the 
body. 

Precisely  the  same  thing  is  done  by  those  who  hunt 
after  exciting  sermons,  who  imagine  they  repair  the 
ravages  of  the  devotion  of  six  days  to  the  world  by  an 
emotional  imj^ression  on  Sunday  as  transient  as  the  morn- 
ing dew ;  who  mistake  a  thrill  of  intellectual  excitement 
for  a  spiritual  conviction,  a  glow  of  aspiration  for  a  re- 


2  02  The  Religion  of  Signs. 

ligioiis  act,  and  pleasure  in  a  sermon  for  the  will  to  con- 
quer evil. 

Now  all  these  things  are,  under  one  form  or  another, 
the  products  of  the  sa^ne  spirit  which  in  the  days  of  Christ 
sought  for  signs  and  wonders. 

The  melancholy  superstition  which  is  called  so  ironic- 
ally spiritualism  unfits  its  devoted  votaries  for  their  daily 
work.  Some  play  with  it,  and  it  does  them  little  harm ; 
but  others,  embarking  in  it  with  energy,  get  into  an 
excited,  inoperative,  unhealthy  condition,  in  which  a  quiet 
Christian  life  becomes  all  but  impossible,  in  which  duty 
becomes  a  burden  if  it  separate  them  from  their  experi- 
ments, in  which  it  seems  better  to  sit  at  a  table  slothfully 
waiting  for  a  spiritual  communication  than  to  go  with 
Christ  into  the  middle  of  the  arena  of  life,  and  do  our 
duty  there  against  the  evil.  It  is  there,  in  faithful  follow- 
ing of  Him,  that  we  shall  have  spiritual  communications ; 
it  is  there,  in  self-sacrificing  action,  that  we  shall  feel 
inspired  by  God  to  act  and  speak ;  it  is  there  that  we  shall 
realize  our  communion  with  the  host  of  all  great  spirits, 
in  enduring  like  them  all  things  for  the  truth  ;  it  is  there, 
by  faithful  prayer  and  resistance  to  temptation,  by  the 
warfare  against  sin  within  and  wrong  without,  that  our 
hearts  mil  begin  to  beat  with  the  excitement  which  en- 
nobles and  the  enthusiasm  which  does  not  decay ;  it  is 
there,  loving  our  Saviour's  spirit  above  all  things  and 
aspiring  to  reach  His  Divine  perfection,  that  we  shall 
enter  into  the  true  spiritual  world,  and  feel,  not  the  miser- 
able presences  of  beings  which,  on  the  impossible  sup- 
position of  their  existence,  it  is  a  disgrace  to  associate  with, 
but  the  very  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God  within  us  ; 


The  RcUgio7i  of  Signs.  203 

hear,  not  a  futile  and  laborious  noise,  but  tbe  voice  of  God 
Himself,  saying  to  us,  after  the  conquest  of  sin  or  the 
performance  of  duty  in  His  strength,  '  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant/ 

And  as  to  the  attempts  of  revivalists  or  ritualists  to 
influence  the  spirit  through  the  flesh,  there  is  this  plain 
evil,  that  all  stimulants  of  this  character  produce  each 
their  own  peculiar  reaction,  and  are  followed  in  the 
reaction  by  exhaustion.  Then  the  passionate  emotion 
must  be  worked  up  again  by  another  and  a  fiercer 
address,  or  the  aesthetic  impression  which  produced  the 
thrill  must  be  again  received,  but  this  time  by  means 
of  a  more  exciting  service.  It  follows,  then,  that  the 
exhaustion  of  reaction  is  greater  since  the  stimulant 
has  been  more  violent.  So  it  proceeds,  till  at  last  the 
limit  of  stimulation  has  been  reached  and  the  excite- 
ment can  be  aroused  no  more.  Only  the  exhaustion 
remains,  the  craving  is  still  there,  and  the  worn-out 
votaries  of  the  religion  of  the  nerves  and  the  senses 
turn  back — unable  to  do  without  their  thrilling  sensa- 
tions— to  the  old  excitements,  and  go  back  in  the  case 
of  revivalism  to  sin,  in  the  case  of  ritualism  to  the 
world. 

Of  course  we  only  speak  of  tendencies,  not  of  persons. 
It  would  be  absurd  to  deny  that  many  faithful  men  have 
been  made  by  revivalism.  It  would  be  far  more  absurd 
to  deny  that  there  are  thousands  of  devoted  men  who 
attach  a  living  meaning  to  ritualistic  observances,  and  to 
whom  these  things  are  not  a  form  without  a  spirit,  but 
the  natural  expression,  and  therefore  to  them  the  right 
expression,  of  spiritual  feelings — who  use  them  not  to 


204  The  Religion  of  Signs, 

create  from  without,  but  to  embody  from  witbin,  tbeir 
inner  life  witb  God. 

But,  making  tbis  allowance,  it  seems  clear  that  this 
form  of  religious  life  is  not  tbe  highest  nor  the  truest 
form  of  the  Christian  life.  It  encourages  that  temper  of 
mind  which  demands  signs  and  wonders  as  proofs  and 
supports  of  faith.  It  is  in  bondage  to  ceremonies  ;  it  is 
against  our  full  freedom  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  saj^s  to  men, 
in  principle,  ^Except  ye  be  circumcised,  Christ  shall 
profit  you  nothing.'  It  denies  the  equal  holiness  of  all 
times,  of  all  places,  to  the  Christian  heart,  by  asserting 
the  especial  holiness  of  certain  times  and  certain  places. 
It  places  the  priest  between  us  and  Grod  as  a  necessary 
means  whereby  alone  we  may  hold  communication  with 
God.  It  asserts  the  absolute  necessity  of  certain  symbolic 
observances  for  the  reception  of  any  higher  spiritual  grace 
from  God. 

This  is  not  the  purity  and  simplicity  of  Christianity. 
It  is  a  rehabilitation  of  those  elements  in  Judaism  which 
Christ  attacked  and  overthrew.  It  is  opposed  to  the 
whole  spirit  of  His  teaching.  He  removed  the  barriers 
of  ceremonies,  of  sacrifices,  of  authority,  of  localized  and 
exclusive  sanctities,  and  He  brought  the  heart  of  each 
man  into  direct  communion  with  the  Heavenly  Father. 
As  to  a  priesthood,  and  its  pretensions  to  interfere  be- 
tween us  and  God,  Christ  swept  it  away  with  every 
word  and  action  of  His  life,  and  by  uniting  the  individual 
soul  to  God,  made  every  man  his  own  priest,  and  the 
daily  spiritual  offering  of  each  man's  love  in  feeling 
and  in  action  the  acceptable  sacrifice.  ^  If  any  man 
love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words;  and  my  Father  will 


The  Religion  of  Signs.  205 

love  him,  and  we  will  come  to  him,  and  make  our  abode 
with  him.* 

There  is  the  charter  of  our  freedom,  and  there  is  not  a 
word  in  it  of  the  necessity  of  God's  grace  coming  to  us 
filtered  through  the  medium  of  a  priest,  or  a  ceremony,  or 
a  sacrament,  or  a  symbol. 

To  some  men  these  things  may  be  necessary ;  for  some 
men  signs  and  wonders  of  one  kind  or  another,  ceremo- 
nieSj  symbols,  or  outward  excitements  may  be  required. 
Let  us  not  deny  their  needfulness  at  times,  for  even  Christ 
made  use  of  miracles.  Because  some  of  us  can  do  without 
them,  we  must  not  impose  our  liberty  on  others.  But  we 
must  not  allow  that  they  can  give  life,  though  they  may 
support  it ;  we  must  not  make  them  of  the  fird  necessity, 
we  must  not  imagine  that  a  Christianity  not  adorned  but 
encumbered  with  them  is  anything  but  a  low  type  of 
Christianit3^  We  must  avow  that  the  insistance  on,  or 
the  craving  for,  any  form  of  the  religion  of  signs  or  the 
religion  of  superstitious  wonder,  is  an  element  of  disease 
in  the  Church  analogous  to  the  spirit  which  helped  to 
bring  Christ  Jesus  to  his  death. 

Sometimes  He  gave  way  to  it  when  He  saw  the  heart 
was  true,  as  when  He  touched  jN^athanael's  wavering  faith 
through  wonder,  or  when  He  condescended  to  the  doubt 
of  Thomas.  But  He  led  Nathanael  to  a  more  spiritual 
region,  '  Thou  shalt  see  greater  things  than  these,'  a  divine 
union  between  heaven  and  earth  through  the  medium  of 
the  Son  of  man.  And  He  marked  out  Thomas's  faith  as 
weak,  *  Blessed  are  they  who  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have 
believed.' 

Yes,  brethren,  blessed  is  he,  in  these  times  of  devotion 


2o6  The  Religion  of  Signs, 

to  the  sensible,  who  can  beliold  the  obedience  and  tlie 
deep  self-sacrifice  of  the  Saviour's  life  and  death  ;  who 
can  watch,  unfolding  in  Him,  perfect  love,  undaunted 
courage,  stainless  purit}^,  the  simple  nobleness  of 
truth,  the  union  of  mercy  and  justice,  and  recognizing 
that  as  Grod  in  humanity,  throw  himself  upon  it  in  a 
pure  passion  of  love,  and  with  a  solemn  force  of  faith, 
and  clasp  the  perfect  Man.  to  his  heart  as  his  unique 
possession,  as  his  living  impulse,  as  his  Redeemer, 
in  whose  love  his  sin  is  drowned,  his  lower  self  anni- 
hilated. 

Signs,  wonders,  excitements,  observances,  I  need  them 
not  to  make  me  trust  in  Thee.  I  feel  Thy  power  in 
my  heart.  Thy  presence  moving  in  my  life.  I  hear 
Thy  voice ;  it  is  enough,  my  spirit  knows  its  sound, 
claims  it  as  the  voice  of  the  rightful  Master  of  my 
being.  I  have  not  seen,  but,  0  my  Saviour  !  I  have  felt — 
and  I  believe. 


Individuality .  207 


[Dec.  6,  1868.] 

TNDIVIBrALlTY, 

Luke  ix.  24. 

This  is  one  of  those  sayings  of  Christ  whicli  have  aroused 
in  men  opinions  of  the  most  ojDposite  character.  It  has 
been  received  on  one  side  with  scorn,  on  the  other  by 
reverence.  It  has  been  considered  as  a  piece  of  unpractical 
sentiment,  it  has  been  hailed  as  the  very  inmost  law  of  all 
life. 

We  may  ask  why  it  was  that  Christ  expressed  Him- 
self in  so  mj^stical  a  manner.  It  was  partly  because  He 
spoke  not  only  for  the  period  in  which  He  lived,  but  for 
all  periods  of  the  history  of  the  w^orld.  He  gave  to  men 
seeds  of  thought  which  were  to  be  developed  in  proportion 
as  the  world  developed.  Much  has  been  wrought  out  of 
them,  much  remains  to  be  discovered.  Some  say  that 
Christianity  is  effete :  it  seems  to  me  that  w^e  have  but 
begun  to  understand  it.  IJiit  the  plain  reason  for  the 
mystery  of  Christ's  sajdngs  is  this,  that  all  the  highest 
truths  are  by  their  nature  mystical,  aboA^e  and  beyond  the 
power  of  the  intellect  acting  hy  itself.  The  super-intel- 
lectual lies  beneath  our  science,  our  theology,  our  phi- 
losophyj  even  our  art. 

Many  of  the  conclusions  of  science  as  well  as  those 
of  theology  and  philosophy  are  deduced  from  intuitions. 


2o8  Individuality. 

which  we  cannot  demonstrate.  In  cliemistrj^,  e.g.,  thougli 
the  law  of  definite  combining  proportions  has  been  demon- 
strated, yet  the  atomic  theory  which  answers  the  question 
— as  well  as  many  others — why  co^nbination  takes  place 
according  to  that  law,  remains  undemonstrated,  beyond 
the  region  of  the  reason.  It  is  ^  a  backward  guess  from 
fact  to  principle.' 

So  also  with  astronomy ;  the  laws  of  Kepler  express 
demonstrated  facts,  but  the  theory  of  gravitation,  which 
explains  why  those  facts  are  so,  lies  outside  of  demon- 
stration. We  know  nothing  of  that  quality  of  matter — if 
there  be  such  a  quality — which  enables  matter  to  attract 
matter. 

These  theories,  like  spiritual  truths,  are  intuitions,  and 
the  mode  of  proving  the  one  and  the  other,  so  far  as  they 
are  capable  of  proof,  is  the  same. 

The  man  who  lires  much  with  Christ,  that  is,  with 
divine  humanity,  feels  the  principles  which  rule  the 
spiritual  life  of  man.  These  principles  were  felt  and 
stated  by  Christ.  Do  they  explain  the  facts  of  the 
spiritual  life ;  are  there  none  of  those  facts  which  contra- 
dict the  principles?  Then  we  infer  that  the  princij)les 
are  true.  It  is  not  necessary  that  they  should  explain  all 
the  facts,  for  in  theology,  as  in  science,  many  facts  are 
w^aiting  for  further  knowledge  before  they  can  be  ranged 
under  the  principles  ;  it  is  only  necessary  that  they  should 
not  be  contradicted  by  the  facts. 

The  man  who  lives  much  with  Nature,  that  is,  with 
the  form  of  God's  thoughts,  feels  what  is  true  of  her, 
has  intuitions  of  her  secrets.  He  calls  his  intuition  a 
theory,  and  then  reasons  back  to  it  by  experiment ;  and 


Individuality,  209 

if  the  facts  occur  as  if  tlie  principle  were  true,  "he  keeps 
his  theory  though  he  may  not  be  able  to  bring  all  the 
facts  into  harmony  with  it.  It  is  sufficient  if  the  greater 
part  are  explained  and  no  contradiction  occurs.  He 
waits,  like  the  theologian,  for  further  light.  And  as  he 
alwaj^s  holds  his  theory  so  as  to  be  ready  to  take  up 
another  which  embraces  a  larger  number  of  facts,  so  we 
should  hold  our  spiritual  principles,  ready,  nay,  hoping 
for  the  revelation  of  higher  ones  which  maj^  more  fully 
explain  the  facts  of  the  life  of  the  soul.  Indeed,  many 
of  Christ's  sayings  and  the  whole  tendency  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  second  advent  declare  that  more  all-embracing 
principles  than  those  we  have  at  present  are  destined  to 
become  ours  hereafter. 

But  the  main  point  of  the  analogy  on  which  I  insist, 
laying  aside  the  rest,  is  this,  that  both  science  and 
Christianity  proceed  from  intuitions  which  are  not 
brought  to  the  test  of  the  pure  intellect.  Both  Faraday 
and  S.  Paul  worked  from  principles  which  they  could 
not  demonstrate. 

It  is  no  argument,  then,  against  Christianity,  that  the 
principles  laid  down  by  its  Founder  cannot  be  brought 
to  the  test  of  the  pure  intellect,  any  more  than  it  is 
against  science  that  its  theories  cannot  bear  the  same 
test. 

Assume  the  truth  of  the  principles  of  Christ,  and 
though  we.  cannot  as  yet  explain  all  the  facts  of  spiritual 
Hfe  by  them,  yet  they  explain  a  vast  number,  and  are  not 
contradicted  by  any  of  the  facts  in  their  own  sphere. 

Assume  the  truth  of  certain  scientific  theories,  and 
they  exj)lain  the  operations  of  nature  up  to  a  certain 


1 1  o  Individuality. 

point,  and  are  not  contradicted  by  tlie  facts  whicli  belong 
to  their  sphere.  But  you  have  to  assume,  you  cannot 
demonstrate  at  present  in  either  case.  The  theories  of 
science  and  the  principles  of  the  spiritual  life  are  both 
proved  backwards,  not  forwards,  and  as  the  proof  is  never 
complete,  they  always  remain  to  a  certain  degree  without 
the  limits  of  the  pure  intellect.  Both  pass  into  a  belt  of 
shadow. 

We  work  then  upon  intuitions  in  the  realms  of  science 
and  of  spirit  by  the  same  method,  the  intellectual  method 
of  experiment.  But  the  facts  on  which  we  work  are  of  a 
different  kind.  We  must  not  confuse  our  scientific  work 
by  introducing  into  it  spiritual  feelings ;  nor  our  spiritual 
work  by  introducing  conclusions  drawn  by  the  intellect 
from  the  sphere  of  criticism  or  science.  Else  we  fall  into 
spiritual  absurdities,  and  either  lose  the  use  of,  or  travesty, 
our  intuition.  Take,  for  example,  the  unproveable 
spiritual  truth  of  my  text.  Whenever  an  attempt  has 
been  made  to  subject  it  to  the  dry  action  of  the  mere  in- 
tellect, to  limit  it  by  rules,  to  reduce  it  to  maxims,  or  to 
act  on  the  motive  of  the  utility  of  sacrifice,  it  has  been 
made  ridiculous  in  practice,  or  lost  its  power,  or  ceased  to 
be  itself,  or  been  travestied  into  Pharisaism.  Unless  its 
action  comes  fresh  and  free  from  the  heart,  it  becomes 
selfishness  in  the  end. 

Among  all  men  before  Christ,  it  was  dimly  felt  as 
true,  but  it  was  not  recognized  as  the  only  law  of  life. 
Its  recognition  as  such  was  due  to  Christ.  He  saw  it 
as  the  one  universal  idea  of  the  universe ;  He  knew 
that  it  w\as  the  expression  of  the  very  life  of  God ; 
He  seized   on    it,  and    embodied  it  in  His   life,  in  His 


htdividuality.  1 1 1 

words,  above  all  in  His  deatli.  It  was  the  one  truth  to 
which  He  bore  witness  ;  it  was  the  one  truth  in  which 
all  the  other  truths  which  He  taught  were  contained. 
This  is  the  full,  inexhaustible  meaning  of  His  career. 
He  could  truly  say  of  Himself  that  He  was  the  life, 
because  He  was  the  sacrifice. 

But  I  am  now  asked  what  is  meant  by  self-sacrifice. 

Self-sacrifice  means  that  the  motive  power  of  true  life 
is  not  our  own  interests,  passions,  wealth,  or  reputation, 
but  the  interest  and  advance  of  others.  It  means  the 
clear  recognition  that  God  has  no  self-life,  never,  in 
our  sense  of  the  terms,  acts,  thinks,  or  is  for  Himself, 
for  His  own  glory,  never  considers  Himself  at  all;  has 
therefore  no  jealousy,  no  anger,  no  caprice,  no  petty 
motives,  none  of  those  accursed  selfish  passions  which 
have  been  imputed  to  Him  by  mistaken  men — but 
realizes  His  life  in  the  life  of  all,  and  in  giving  of  Him- 
self away  becomes  the  life  of  all — it  means  the  clear 
recognition  of  this  by  the  heart,  and  such  an  action 
following  on  the  recognition  as  unites  us  in  similar 
sacrifice  to  the  life  of  God,  till  we  too  find  our  only 
being  along  with  Him,  in  the  being  of  all  which  lives  by 
Him. 

But  you  will  say  '  This  destroys  -my  individuality,  and 
to  that  I  cling.  I  do  not  care  to  live  if  I  am  to  be 
mingled  up  with  the  universe.  It  is  one  of  my  deepest 
instincts  to  desire  to  be,  and  to  recognize  myself.  I  am 
a  distinct  person,  and  I  wish  to  continue  distinct  for 
ever.  I  have  no  interest  in  immortal  life,  and  I  can 
conceive  no  interest  in  a  future  life  with  others,  unless 

p  2 


1 1 2  Individuality . 

I  and  all  preserve  each  our  separate  and  different 
being.' 

We  reply,  tliat  any  spiritual  theory  of  life  which  tends 
to  destroy  and  not  to  assert  the  individuality  of  man  is  an 
inhuman  theory,  and  as  such  false  ;  that  Christ  and  His 
Apostles  proclaimed  the  separate  individuality  of  each 
man  in  proclaiming  the  personal  and  distinct  relation 
of  each  man  to  God.  Any  explanation  of  this  text 
must  therefore  account  for  the  fact  of  this  desire  of  in- 
dividuality. 

We  must  keep  up  our  individuality,  but  we  ought  to 
take  care  that  it  is  true  and  not  false  individuality.  The 
key  to  distinguish  them  from  each  other  is  given  to  us 
in  the  text.  It  speaks  of  a  double  nature  in  man  ;  one 
which  asserts  self,  the  other  which  denies  it.  The  first 
has  a  seeming  life  which  is  actual  death  ;  the  second 
has  a  seeming  death  which  is  actual  life ;  and  there- 
fore, as  life  is  inseparably  connected  with  individuality^, 
the  development  of  the  selfish  nature  is  false  individu- 
ality ;  the  development  of  the  unselfish  nature  is  true 
individuality. 

Take  for  example  the  case  of  the  selfish  man.  He 
grasps  all  he  can,  he  accumulates,  but  only  for  himself. 
He  has  little  connection  with  the  race,  except  so  far  as 
he  can  use  men  for  his  own  purposes  ;  he  lives  among 
men,  but  it  is  with  the  suspicion  and  hard  heart  which 
divide  him,  not  with  the  trust  and  love  which  unite  him 
to  his  fellows.  He  lives  alone,  he  dies  alone,  and  the 
wind  and  rain  which  wear  out  the  letters  on  his  tomb  are 
the  only  haunters  of  his  pretentious  grave. 

There  are  many  who,  seeing  this  self-sufficing,  separate 


Iiidividica  lity.  2 1 3 

man,  will  sa}^  that  he  possessed  a  strongly  marked  indi- 
viduality. But  it  is  not  individuality,  it  is  isolation.  The 
sense  of  life  is  inseparable  from  the  sense  of  individu- 
ality, and  this  man  has  only  felt  a  fiery  craving  which 
he  mistakes  for  life.  Love  for  self,  sympathy  for  self, 
activity  for  self,  do  not  produce  life  or  the  sense  of  life ; 
they  produce  self-disease,  the  satiety  which  consumes, 
the  dreadful  loneliness  which  corrupts  the  soul,  that 
passionate  lust  for  more  which  is  itself  the  unsatisfied 
worm  which  eats  away  the  heart.  No  vivid  or  exalted 
sense  of  individual  being  can  ever  fill  the  heart  of  this 
man  until  he  escape  from  the  curse  of  self-involve- 
ment, and  spread  his  being  over  all  the  world.  But 
if  the  habit  should  become  too  strong,  then,  finally, 
even  the  last  sign  of  possibility  of  life  passes  away, 
for  the  craving  is  dulled,  the  pain  of  satiety  is  lost, 
and  the  heart  ossifies.  Isolation  has  produced  the 
death  of  individuality.  '  He  that  loveth  his  life  shall 
lose  it.' 

I^ow  turn  and  look  at  that  Divine  Figure  who  came  at 
this  advent  time  to  lose  the  life  which  the  selfish  man  has 
cherished.  His  worst  opponents  have  never  dared  to  say 
that  He  lived  for  Himself,  that  He  sought  His  own  in- 
terest or  His  own  glory.  Those  who  have  not  believed 
in  Him  as  the  Christ  have  honoured  Him  as  one  who 
gave  His  whole  life  up  to  the  service  of  men.  His 
enemies  who  slew  Him  gave  in  scorn  their  unconscious 
testimony  to  His  self-sacrifice:  'He  saved  others.  Him- 
self He  cannot  save.'  There  is  no  need  to  dwell  upon  the 
exquisite  service  of  His  years  of  work ;  their  self-sur- 
render is  known.     I  mention  only,  as  less  dwelt  on,  the 


2 1 4  Individua  lity . 

manifold  sympatliy  with  different  characters  which  could 
only  arise  out  of  His  having  lost  His  own  being  for  the 
time  in  that  of  the  person  to  whom  He  spoke  ;  the  intense 
patience  with  littleness,  and  interruption,  and  mis- 
understanding ;  the  absolute  want  of  that  anger  at 
being  continually  mistaken  and  at  want  of  insight  on  the 
part  of  followers,  to  which  philosophers  and  teachers  are 
subj  ect. 

When  the  minor  incidents  say  so  much,  with  what  a 
fulness  do  the  greater  events  declare  that  Christ  never 
even  acknowledged  the  existence  of  a  self  in  His  nature ! 
He  lost  His  life ;  but  in  losing  the  life  of  self  He  bruised 
the  head  of  the  deathfulness  in  human  nature,  and  claimed 
and  won  for  us  the  eternal  life. 

And  what  was  the  result — one  result  of  this,  at  least  ? 
That  no  personality  is  so  unique  as  His  ;  no  one  figure  in 
history  stands  out  so  accentuated,  so  distinct ;  no  individu- 
ality is  so  individual.  And  yet — is  it  not  strange  ? — no 
universality  is  so  universal,  no  figure  is  so  blended  up 
with  others,  no  personality  is  so  unlimited.  The  double 
thought  is  true  of  Him,  that  none  lived  so  much  in 
others,  and  j^et  none  was  so  truly  himself.  For  true  in- 
dividuality, like  true  life,  is  gained  by  the  loss  of  that 
which  seems  individuality.  It  is  gained  by  the  loss  of 
consciousness  of  self,  or,  to  express  it  otherwise,  it  is 
secured  when  we  become  naturally  incapable  of  self- 
isolation.  It  is  not  difficult  to  illustrate  these  statements 
from  the  sayings  of  Christ.  He  never  distinguishes  His 
own  personality  from  that  of  God.  He  knows  nothing 
of  Himself  except  as  in  union  with  God.  '  I  pro- 
ceeded  forth   and   came   from    God ' — observe   the  clear 


Individuality,  215 

recognition  of  individuality  —  ^  neither  came  I  of  mj^- 
self,  but  He  sent  me/  Observe  bow  the  former  is 
balanced :  Christ  was  conscious  of  individuality,  but  only 
so  because  He  had  no  separate  consciousness  of  self. 
Again.  '  He  that  belie veth  in  me,  belie veth  not  on  me, 
but  on  Him  that  sent  me.'  'He  that  seeth  me,  seeth 
Him  that  sent  me.'  'I  have  not  spoken  from  myself. 
Even  as  the  Father  said  to  me,  so  I  speak.'  *  I  and  my 
Father  are  one.' 

From  these  and  many  other  passages  you  see  that 
Christ  the  Man  rejected  altogether  the  notion  of  an  in- 
dependent being  in  Himself — was  onl}^  conscious  of  Him- 
self as  in  God  and  united  to  Him — could  not  even  for  a 
moment  isolate  Himself  so  as  to  desire  anything  for  Him- 
self alone,  or  to  contemplate  and  admire  Himself,  or  think 
of  His  own  thoughts  as  His  alone,  or  feel  the  feeling  of 
His  feelings  as  we  do  till  we  are  sick  of  the  false  in- 
dividuality which  we  create.  He  was  freed  from  the 
slavery  which  forces  the  selfish  man  to  revolve  for  ever 
round  himself,  free  to  live  in  God,  free  to  unite  Himself 
to  the  universe,  free  to  pour  His  spirit  forth  on  the  world. 
Now  in  this  freedom  of  life  in  the  life  of  all,  in  this  self- 
abandonment.  He  found  the  intense  consciousness  of  life 
which  is  the  best  expression  of  the  meaning  of  individu- 
ality. For  the  life  He  felt  was  not  His  own  particular 
lifcj  but  the  life  of  God  in  Him  ;  the  being  He  was  con- 
scious of  was  the  beings  and  therefore  the  activity,  in 
Him  of  the  whole  universe  of  spirits  who  received  their 
life  of  God.  His  individuality  was  perfected  in  the  loss 
of  self. 

This  is  the  main  statement ;  but  in  order  to  make   it 


1 1 6  Individuality, 

clearer  we  will  look  at  it  through  the  light  of  a  few 
illustrations. 

Take  S.  Paul,  the  man  of  active  work.  He  is  remark- 
able among  religious  teachers  for  a  want  of  that  isolated 
self- consciousness  of  which  I  have  spoken.  No  jealousy 
of  others,  no  posing  before  the  world,  no  morbid  self- 
examination  spoiled  his  nature.  Self  was  lost  in 
'■  spending  and  being  spent '  for  others.  Willing  even 
to  lose  his  own  soul  for  his  kinsmen,  how  does  he  de- 
scribe his  being  ? — '  It  is  not  I,  but  Christ  who  liveth 
in  me.' 

And  yet  what  an  individuality !  How  he  stands  out 
in  the  history  of  the  Church,  how  marked  in  character, 
how  vividly  distinct  in  feeling!  It  is  astonishing  what 
an  impression  of  fulness  of  life  we  gain,  if  we  only  glance 
over  one  of  his  Epistles,  how  convinced  we  are  that 
he  must  have  felt  the  opulence  of  Being  in  every  hour 
of  his  life.  He  lost  his  lower  life  to  find  a  higher  in- 
dividuality in  union  with  the  life  of  Christ,  with  the  life 
of  all  whom  he  had  taught  and  loved.  The  life  of  Christ 
in  God,  the  life  of  all  the  race  in  Christ,  the  life  of  every 
'Corinthian,  Roman,  Ephesian,  whom  he  had  met — all 
these  varied  existences  became  part  of  him  by  love,  their 
life  the  life  he  lived,  the  guarantee  and  source  of  his  in- 
dividuality. 

And  yoii^  when  has  life  been  dearest  to  you  ?  when  have 
5^ou  felt  the  fine  thrill  of  intense  Being  ?  when  have  you 
realized  your  personality  most  vividly  ?  Has  it  not  been 
when  God  has  enabled  you  to  lay  aside  some  guilty 
pleasure,  or  to  put  by  the  crown  of  prosperity  that  you 
may,  in  being  true  to  duty,  lose  your  sinful  self  in  union 


Individuality,  2 1 7 

with  His  righteousness  ?  In  the  veiy  moment  in  which 
you  have  trodden  down  j^our  lower  nature  and  refused 
to  isolate  yourself  from  God — then  it  is,  I  venture  to  say, 
that,  though  life  seems  ruined  with  pain,  yet  a  sense  of 
other  life  begins  to  rush  through  your  being  ;  not  life  as 
it  is  known  here,  but  a  touch  of  something  ecstatic,  keen, 
intense.  It  is  that  you  have  entered  into  the  outskirts 
of  God's  life ;  and  in  denying  self,  and  in  asserting  the 
will  of  your  Father  as  your  own,  have  become  conscious 
of  a  personality  in  Him,  such  as  you  have  never  realized 
before. 

Or  again,  has  it  not  been  when  in  intense  love  you  have 
merged  your  being  in  that  of  another,  when  another  is  the 
life  of  your  life,  when  self  is  drowned  in  the  sea  of  feeling? 
Was  it  not  then  that  the  meaning  of  Being  became  known 
to  you,  that  you.  felt  yourself  a  person,  but  felt  it  some- 
how in  another  ?  Was  it  not  then  that  life  even  in  its 
meanest  details  became  not  only  worthy  but  exquisite, 
that  you  were  somehow  admitted  into  the  secret  of  that 
correlation  of  things  in  which  everything  is  great,  that 
nature  spoke  to  you  as  to  an  intimate  friend,  that  God 
drew  nearer,  that  the  soul  of  the  universe  seemed  to 
pulsate  in  harmony  with  j^ours,  that  the  dread  and  weight 
of  eternity  were  lifted  olf,  because  you  were  yourself 
dwelling  in  eternity  ?  Isolation  had  perished,  and  out 
of  its  ruins  arose  individuality.  You  lost  and  found 
yourself. 

Let  that  be  multiplied;  let  the  loss  of  self  in  one  be 
multiplied  into  the  loss  of  self  in  love  of  all  men  ;  let  the 
same  intensity  belong  to  the  universal  love  which  be- 
longed to  the  particidar  love,  and  we  then  possess  some 


2 1 8  Individziality, 

conception  of  tlie  individuality  of  Christ,  of  how  it  is 
possible  to  say  of  Him  that  He  was  not  a  man,  but 
humanity.  He  lived,  and  is  living,  not  in  Himself, 
but  in  all  men.  Love  has  made  Him,  as  it  were, 
transformed  into  the  being  of  all.  Into  His  individu- 
ality He  has  therefore  taken  the  individuality  of  all, 
and  He  feels  His  own  being  in  the  being  of  the  whole 
race.  Do  you  not  see  how  infinitely  rich,  how  in- 
tenseljT-  living,  how  inexpressibly  various,  must  be  His 
individuality  ? 

Do  you  not  see  how  the  more  lives  you  yourself  man- 
age to  live  in  intensely,  how  the  more  you  lose  your 
isolated  self  and  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  cluster 
round  it,  and  take  instead  into  you  the  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings of  others,  the  richer  and  the  more  varied,  the  more 
com]3lex  and  the  more  interesting,  and  therefore  the  more 
vividly  individual,  becomes  your  being  ? 

It  is  difficult  to  make  this  clear ;  I  cannot  express  it 
as  I  wish.  Perhaps  a  personal  illustration  may  repeat 
the  experience  of  some  among  you,  and  bring  home  the 
thought.  It  was  my  fortune  last  year,  in  going  from 
Torcello  to  Venice,  to  be  overtaken  by  one  of  the  whirl- 
winds which  sometimes  visit  the  south.  It  was  a  dead 
calm,  but  the  whole  sky,  high  overhead,  was  covered 
with  a  pall  of  purple,  sombre  and  smooth,  but  full  of 
scarlet  threads.  Across  this,  from  side  to  side,  as  if 
darted  by  two  invisible  armies,  flew  at  every  instant 
flashes  of  forked  lightning ;  but  so  lofty  was  the  storm 
— and  this  gave  a  hushed  terror  to  the  scene — that  no 
thunder  was  heard.  Beneath  this  sky  the  lagoon  water 
was  dead  purple,   and  the  weedy   shoals  left  naked  by 


Individuality,  2 1 9 

tlie  tide  dead  scarlet.  Tlie  onl}^  motion  in  the  sky  was 
far  away  to  tlie  soutli,  wliere  a  palm-tree  of  pale  mist 
seemed  to  rise  from  the  water,  and  to  join  itself  above 
to  a  self- enfolding  mass  of  seething  cloud.  We  reached 
a  small  island  and  landed.  An  instant  after,  as  I  stood 
on  the  parapet  of  the  fortification,  amid  the  breathless 
silence,  this  pillar  of  cloud,  ghostly  white,  and  relieved 
against  the  violet  darkness  of  the  sky,  its,  edge  as  clear 
as  if  cut  with  a  knife,  came  rushing  forward  over  the 
lagoon,  driven  by  the  spirit  of  wind,  which,  hidden 
within  it,  whirled  and  coiled  its  column  into  an  endless 
spiral.  The  wind  was  only  there,  at  its  very  edge  there 
was  not  a  ripple  ;  but  as  it  drew  near  our  island  it  seemed 
to  be  pressed  down  upon  the  sea,  and  unable  to  resist  the 
pressure  opened  out  like  a  fan  in  a  foam  of  vapour.  Then, 
with  a  shriek  which  made  every  nerve  thrill  with  excite- 
ment, the  imprisoned  wind  leapt  forth  ;  the  water  of  the 
lagoon,  beaten  flat,  was  torn  away  to  the  depth  of  half  an 
inch  ;  and  as  the  cloud  of  spray  and  wind  smote  the  island, 
it  trembled  all  over  like  a  ship  struck  by  a  great  wave. 
We  seemed  to  be  in  the  very  heart  of  the  imiverse  at  a  mo- 
ment when  the  thought  of  the  universe  was  most  sublime. 

The  long  preparation,  and  then  the  close,  so  unexpected 
and  so  magnificent,  swept  every  one  complete^  out  of 
self-consciousness ;  the  Italian  soldiers  at  my  side  danced 
upon  the  parapet  and  shouted  with  excitement.  For  an 
instant  we  were  living.in  Nature's  being,  not  in  our  own 
isolation. 

It  taught  me  a  lesson  ;  it  made  me  feel  the  meaning 
of  this  text,  '  Whosoever  loseth  his  life  shall  find  it ; ' 
for  it  is  in  such  scanty  minutes  that  a  man  becomes  pos- 


2  2  o  Individjiality . 

sessor  of  tliat  rare  intensity  of  life  which  is,  when  it  is 
pure,  so  wonderful  a  thing  that  it  is  like  a  new  Lirth  into 
a  new  world,  in  which,  though  self  is  lost,  the  highest 
individuality  is  found.  I  am  conscious  now,  in  looking 
back,  though  the  very  self- consciousness  involved  in 
analyzing  the  impression  seems  to  spoil  it,  that  it  is  in 
such  a  moment,  when,  as  it  were,  you  find  your  individu- 
ality outside  of  you  in  the  being  of  the  universe,  that 
you  are  most  individual,  and  most  able  to  feel  your  being, 
though  not  to  think  it. 

Take  that  into  the  spiritual  world.  Put  the  heavenly 
Father  and  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  the  race  of  men  as 
seen  in  Him,  into  the  place  of  the  grandeur  of  Nature — 
lose  your  lower  self,  all  thought,  all  feeling  of  it  in  union 
with  them  by  love,  and — that  is  the  Christian  life  ;  for  it 
is  the  life  of  Christ  Himself — nay,  it  is  the  very  life  of 
God.  No  life  can  be  so  infinite,  so  creative,  so  entire  as 
God's,  because  none  is  so  given,  so  utterly  lived  in  all — 
and  all  the  ecstacy  of  joy  and  self- for getfulness  which 
comes  on  us  in  such  moments  as  I  have  described,  of 
sacrifice  to  drty — of  love  to  another — and  of  absorption 
in  natural  sublimity — are  but  the  faintest  shadow  of 
that  unspeakable  joy  of  life  and  intensity  of  individu- 
ality which  God  possesses  in  never  knowing  what  self 
is,  in  possessing,  of  choice.  His  being  in  the  being  of  the 
spiritual  universe.  It  is  to  that  that  we  look  forward  ; 
not  to  a  heaven  of  selfish  rewards,  not  to  a  world 
of  self- enjoyment ;  but  to  the  loss  of  all  consciousness 
of  our  lower  being  in  union  with  the  being  of  God; 
to  the  loss  of  all  thoughts  and  feelings  which  for  an 
instant  tend  to  isolate  us  from  the  whole   universe   of 


Individic  a  lity .  221 

spirits  akin  to  us  ;  and  to  the  gain  of  our  true  individu- 
ality in  the  feeling  that  we  are  at  one  with  the  individu- 
ality of  all. 

'  For  whosoever  will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it :  but 
whosoever  will  lose  his  life  for  my  sake,  the  same  shall 
save  it.' 


222  The  C7'eation. 


[Trinity  Sunday,  1868.] 

THE      CREATION. 

Genesis  i,  1. 

It  is  not  very  long  ago  since  an  eminent  high  priest  of 
science  undertook,  before  an  assembly  of  clergymen, 
and  at  tlieir  invitation,  to  expose  the  relations  of  the 
clergy  to  science,  and  he  began  with  this  proposition, 
or  words  to  the  same  eflPect :  '  that  he  supposed  he  might 
assume,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  nine-tenths 
of  the  clergy  believed  that  the  world  was  created  in 
six  days/  It  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  extreme 
astonishment  or  extreme  amusement  was  the  predomin- 
ant feeling  with  which  his  declaration  was  received : 
astonishment  that  any  man  (however  so  immersed  in 
his  peculiar  business  as  to  prevent  his  knowledge  of  the 
business  of  other  men)  should  be  so  ignorant  of  the 
position  and  feelings  of  the  persons  whom  he  came  to 
enlighten  ;  amusement,  that  he  should,  being  thus  ignor- 
ant, expose  his  ignorance  with  such  innocent  sim- 
plicity. It  was  plain  that  he  looked  on  the  mass  of 
the  clergy  as  sharing  in  the  spirit  of  the  priests  who 
persecuted  Copernicus  and  Galileo,  or  at  least  as 
sharing  in  the  wilful  blindness  of  their  persecutors ; 
and  the  result  was,  that  the  lecturer  was  placed  in  the 


The  Creation. 


2.23 


undignified  position  of  having  created  a  man  of  straw, 
against  which,  he  tilted  for  an  hour,  while  the  real  oppo- 
nent, with  the  real  points  of  opposition,  was  left  absolutely 
untouched. 

Now  all  this  comes  of  some  scientific  men  having 
fallen  into  the  errors  and  evils  of  that  priestcraft  of 
which  they  have  accused,  and  with  some  good  reason, 
the  clergy  for  many  years.  Priestcraft,  brought  into 
contact  with  opinions  which  oppose  its  own^  or  which 
it  fancies  oppose  its  own,  becomes  unreasonably  excited, 
loses  its  head  on  the  point  in  question,  and  rushes  to 
trample  down  its  opponent  as  blindly  as  a  bull  in  the 
arena  excited  by  a  red  flag.  It  refuses  to  see  the 
position  of  its  adversaries ;  it  calls  their  arguments 
evasions  of  the  question ;  it  will  admit  no  possible 
premises  but  its  own ;  it  will  not  take  the  slightest 
trouble  to  find  out  what  its  opponents  really  hold,  and 
the  natural  consequence  is  that  being  ignorant,  it  makes 
mistakes  ;  that  being  sure  of  its  own  rights  and  seeing 
no  right  but  its  own,  it  becomes  intolerant,  con- 
temptuous, and  would  be  persecuting  if  it  had  its  way. 
It  is  an  extremely  melancholy  thing  to  see  how  some 
of  the  masters  of  science  are  exhibiting,  under  another 
form,  so  many  of  these  characteristics  of  priestcraft,  and 
how  by  doing  so  they  are  retarding  the  progress  of  the 
world. 

If  we,  both  clergy  and  scientific  people,  were  to  try  not 
to  live  solely  in  our  own  atmosphere,  but  also  a  little  in 
the  atmosphere  of  one  another,  there  would  be  some  hope 
of  that  reconciliation  of  science  and  religion  for  which  the 
progress  of  the  race  is  waiting. 


224  ^^^^  Creation. 

The  first  chapter  of  Grenesis  has  been  one  of  the  battle- 
grounds on  which  science  and  the  received  theory  of  in- 
spiration have  met  in  contest.  Because  its  statements 
conflict  with  the  discoveries  of  geology,  the  whole  in- 
spiration of  the  Bible  has  been  denied  ;  and  many  declare 
that  when  we  maintain  that  the  Bible  is  inspired,  we 
are  evading  the  question  and  false  to  our  creed.  They 
take  up  the  ultra  theory  of  inspiration,  and  ignorantly 
declare  that  we  all  hold  that  theory — that  if  we  do  not 
hold  it,  we  ought  to  hold  it,  and  other  intolerances  of  that 
kind. 

It  shall  be  my  work  to-day  to  endeavour  to  show  that 
it  is  possible  to  believe  this  chapter  inspired,  and  yet  to 
leave  a  free  field  to  science ;  nay,  more,  to  show  that  the 
principles  which  underlie  this  chaj)ter  are  identical  with 
the  principles  recognized  by  the  geologist. 

There  is  no  need  to  weary  you  with  recapitulating  the 
well-known  objections  to  the  truth  of  the  details  given 
in  this  chapter.  They  are  known  to  all.  It  will  sufiice 
my  purpose  to  say  that  I  am  one  among  many  in  the 
Church  who  believe  those  objections  to  be  fatal  not  only 
to  the  theory  of  verbal,  but  also  to  that  of  plenary  inspir- 
ation. Many  theories  of  reconciliation  have  been  pub- 
lished; but,  first,  they  continually  evade  the  real  points, 
or  they  do  not  see  them,  and  secondly,  the  theories  answer 
themselves  by  contradicting  one  another. 

Are  we,  then,  to  say  that  this  chapter  is  uninspired 
because  the  account  given  in  it  of  the  Creation  cannot  be 
reconciled  with  the  discoveries  of  science  ?  No  ;  for  we 
deny  that  the  writers  of  the  Bible  were  infallible  upon 
scientific  and  historical  questions ;  and  it  does  not  follow 


The  Creation.  iii^ 

tliat  error  on  these  points  proves  that  they  were  in  error 
on  spiritual  questions,  any  more  than  the  errors  of  the 
man  of  science  in  matters  of  theology  prove  that  he  is 
in  error  upon  matters  of  science.  On  the  contrary,  that 
the  writers  of  the  Bible  are  proved  to  have  no  higher 
knowledge  about  scientific  and  historical  questions  than 
that  which  they  could  gain  at  the  time  in  which  they 
lived,  is  a  mark,  not  of  the  want,  but  of  the  wisdom 
of  inspiration.  For  if  the  writers  had  brought  forward 
scientific  truths  in  the  childhood  of  the  world's  know- 
ledge, their  spiritual  revelation  would  have  been  dis- 
believed. If  Moses,  for  example,  had  told  the  Israelites 
that  the  earth  went  round  the  sun,  when  they  daily 
seemed  to  see  the  sun  going  round  the  earth,  they  would 
have  rejected  his  declaration  of  the  unity  of  God.  The 
one  assertion  would  have  reflected,  in  their  eyes,  falsehood 
on  the  other. 

We  must  judge  the  Book  by  the  times.  It  was 
necessary  that  a  spiritual  revelation  should  be  given 
in  harmony  with  the  physical  beliefs  of  the  period ;  and 
when  we  demand  that  the  revealed  writings  should  be 
true  to  our  physical  knowledge  in  order  that  we  should 
believe  in  inspiration,  we  are  asking  that  which  would 
have  made  all  those  for  whom  the'  Bible  was  originally 
written  disbelieve  at  once  in  all  it  revealed  to  man. 
We  ask  too  much :  that  book  was  written  on  wiser  prin- 
ciples. It  left  these  questions  aside;  it  spoke  in  the 
language,  and  through  the  knowledge,  of  its  time.  It 
was  content  to  reveal  spiritual  truth  ;  it  left  men  to 
find  out  scientific  truth  for  themselves.  It  is  inspired 
with  regard  to  the  first ;  it  is  not  inspired  with  regard 


226  The  Creation. 

to  the  latter.  It  is  inspired  witli  regard  to  universal  prin- 
ciples ;  it  is  not  inspired  with  regard  to  details  of  fact. 
The  proof  that  it  is  inspired  with  regard  to  principles 
is  that  those  principles  which  it  lays  down  or  implies 
are  not  isolated  but  universal  principles.  They  are  true 
of  national,  social,  political,  intellectual,  as  well  as  of 
spiritual  life,  and  above  all,  and  this  is  the  point  which 
I  especially  wish  to  urge,  they  are  identical  with  scien- 
tific principles.  Let  us  test  this  in  the  case  of  this 
chapter. 

The  first  principle  to  be  inferred  is  that  of  the  unify 
of  God.  One  Divine  Being  is  represented  as  the  sole 
Cause  of  the  universe.  Now  this  is  the  only  founda- 
tion of  a  true  religion  for  humanity.  Starting  from  the 
Semitic  peoples,  it  has  gradually  made  its  way  over  the 
whole  of  the  Aryan  family  with  the  exception  of  the 
Hindoos  ;  and  even  among  them,  and  wherever  else  the 
worship  of  many  gods  exists,  it  is  gradually  driving  out 
polytheism  and  establishing  itself  as  the  necessary  religion 
for  humanity. 

It  is  also  the  only  true  and  ultimate  foundation  of 
international,  national,  social,  and  family  union.  The 
deepest  possible  ground  of  unity  which  nations  and 
bodies  of  men  can  possess  is  that  they  should  all,  how- 
ever different  otherwise,  be  one  in  the  worship  of  the 
heart.  Community  of  worship  consolidates  nations, 
societies,  and  families. 

And  now  observe,  that  it  is  at  this  point  that  geology 
and  revelation  meet  in  principle.  Out  of  all  the  inves- 
tigations into  the  past  life  and  growth  of  our  globe, 
there  emerijes  the   conviction  of  One  Divine  Reason  at 


The  Creation.  227 

the  root  of  all  organization,  and  of  all  processes  of  change 
in  the  crust  of  the  earth.  We  find  the  same  primary 
ideas  appearing  in  the  oldest  and  in  the  latest  plants  and 
animals.  We  can  reduce  all  the  infinite  forms  of  animal 
life  to  a  few  primitive  types  of  construction ;  nay,  the 
very  last  hypothesis  put  forward  confirms  this,  by 
declaring  that  all  the  varieties  of  life  have  been  de- 
veloped, without  a  break,  in  accordance  with  one  law. 
Again,  with  regard  to  the  growth  of  the  earth  itself, 
we  have  discarded  the  notion  of  agencies  different  from 
those  which  now  exist ;  we  explain  the  various  changes 
which  have  taken  place  during  infinite  myriads  of  3- ears 
on  precisely  the  same  principles,  and  by  the  same  agencies, 
on  and  by  which  the  present  changes,  elevations,  de- 
pressions, and  depositions  are  taking  place.  The  plan 
and  mode  have  not  altered  ;  there  is  unity  of  purpose 
throughout. 

The  next  princij^le  in  this  chapter  is  that  all  nolle 
work  is  gradual.  God  is  not  represented  as  creating 
everything  in  a  moment.  He  spent  six  days  at  His 
work,  and  then  said  it  was  very  good.  Kow  there  is  no 
principle  more  universal  than  this — that  in  proportion 
to  the  nobility  of  anything,  is  it  long  in  reaching  its 
perfection.  The  summer  fly  is  born  and  dies  in  a  few 
days ;  the  more  highly  organized  animal  has  a  long 
youth  and  a  mature  age.  The  inferior  plant  rises, 
blooms,  and  dies  in  a  year ;  the  oak  transforms  the 
storms  and  sunshine  of  a  century  into  the  knotted  fibres 
of  its  stem.  The  less  noble  powers  of  the  human  mind 
mature  first ;  the  more  noble,  such  as  imagination,  com- 

Q  2 


22  8  The  Creation. 

parison,  abstract  reasoning,  demand  tlie  work  of  years. 
The  greatest  ancient  nation  took  the  longest  time  to  de- 
velope  its  iron  power;  tke  securest  political  freedom  in 
a  nation  did  not  advance  by  bounds,  or  by  violent  re- 
volutions, but  in  England  '  broadened  slowly  down  from 
precedent  to  precedent/  The  greatest  modern  society 
— the  Church  of  Christ — grew  as  Christ  prophesied,  from 
a  be'^innins:  as  small  as  a  strain  of  mustard- seed  into  a 
noble  tree,  and  grows  now  more  slowly  than  any  other 
society  has  ever  grown — 'SO  slowly,  that  persons  who  are 
not  far-seeing  say  that  it  has  failed.  The  same  law  is 
true  of  every  individual  Christian  life.  Faith,  to  be 
strong,  must  be  of  gradual  growth.  Love,  to  be  uncon- 
querable, must  be  the  produce  not  of  quick-leaping  ex- 
citement, but  of  patience  having  her  perfect  work. 
Spiritual  character  must  be  moulded  into  the  likeness 
of  Christ  by  long  years  of  battle  and  of  trial,  and  we 
are  assured  that  eternity  is  not  too  long  to  perfect  it. 

Connected  with  this  universal  principle  is  another — 
that  this  gradual  growth  of  noble  things,  considered  in 
its  general  application  to  the  universe,  is  from  the  lower 
to  the  higher — is,  in  fact,  a  progress,  not  a  retrogression. 
"We  are  told  in  this  chapter  that  first  arose  the  inorganic 
elements,  and  then  life — first  the  life  of  the  plant,  then 
of  the  animal,  and  then  of  man,  '  the  top  and  crown  of 
things.' 

It  is  so  also  in  national  life — first  family  life,  then 
pastoral,  then  agricultural,  then  the  ordered  life  of  a 
polity,  the  highest.  It  is  the  same  with  religion.  First, 
natural  religion,  then  the  dispensation  of  the  Law, 
then  the   more    spiritual    dispensation    of    the  Prophets, 


The  CreatioJt.  22g 

then  tlie  culmination  of  the  external  revelation  through 
man  in  Christ,  afterwards  the  higher  inward  dis- 
pensation of  the  universal  Spirit,  to  be  succeeded 
by  a  higher  still — the  immediate  presence  of  God  in 
all. 

So  also  with  our  own  spiritual  life.  First,  conviction 
of  need,  then  the  rapture  of  felt  forgiveness,  then  God's 
testing  of  the  soul,  through  which  moral  strength  and 
faith  grow  firm  ;  and  as  these  grow  deeper,  love,  the 
higher  grace,  increasing ;  and  as  love  increases,  noble 
work  and  nobler  patience  making  life  great  and  pure,  till 
holiness  emerges,  and  we  are  at  one  with  God ;  and  then, 
finall}^,  the  Christian  Calm — serene  old  age,  with  its  clear 
heaven  and  sunset  light,  to  prophesy  a  new  and  swift-ap- 
proaching dawn  for  the  emancipated  spirit. 

And  from  both  these  uuiversal  principles,  the  mighty 
principle  is  born  of  God  as  the  Divine  Order.  We  see 
Him  in  this  chapter  bringing  the  forming  light  out  of 
the  formless  void,  separating  sea  from  land,  dividing 
the  waters  above  from  the  waters  below  and  light  from 
darkness,  calling  out  the  sun  and  moon  to  determine 
days  and  years,  allotting  to  His  creatures  their  habita- 
tions, and  setting  over  them  the  ruling  mind  of  man  as 
lord  and  king. 

It  is  a  picture  of  that  which  He  has  always  done  in 
the  history  of  humanity :  bringing  redemption  out  of 
sin,  settled  government  out  of  revolution,  peace  out 
of  war,  law  out  of  anarchy ;  till,  finallj^,  we  shall  see 
the  perfect  universe  born  out  of  the  travail  of  the 
imperfect  universe. 

Now  all  these  principles  are  identical  with  those  which 


230  The  Creation, 

support  geology.  Tlie  growth  of  the  world  on  which  we 
live  was  slow.  Geologists  have  now  given  up  the  idea 
of  rapid  transitions,  of  great  catastrophes  initiating  a  new 
age.  Each  geological  period  melted  slowly  into  the  next ; 
and  the  more  complex  in  appearance  the  earth  grew,  and 
the  more  noble  in  varied  life  and  varied  landscape,  the 
slower  was  the  progress  df  its  movements.  All  geology, 
all  the  story  of  ancient  life,  is  witness  to  the  truth  of  the 
principle  of  this  chapter,  that  great  work  is  slow  in  pro- 
portion to  its  greatness. 

The  ancient  history  of  life  bears  witness  also  to  the 
next  principle,  that  progress  is  from  the  lower  to  the 
higher.  We  cannot  force  it  into  particulars,  for  some 
of  the  ancient  fishes  and  reptiles  seem  to  have  been  more 
complex  and  more  highly  organized  than  the  latter  ones, 
but  broadly  and  largely  it  is  true.  For  first  appears  the 
zoophyte,  then  the  shellfish,  then  the  fish,  then  the  rep- 
tile, then  the  bird,  then  the  higher  animals,  and  last  of  all 
Man,  the  highest.  This  is  the  testimony  of  science  to 
these  two  principles  of  which  we  have  spoken,  and  from 
them  arises,  as  in  other  things  so  in  physical,  the  principle 
of  a  Divine  order  in  creation. 

The  next  truth  to  be  inferred  from  this  chapter  is 
that  the  universe  was  prepared  for  the  good  and  enjoy- 
ment of  man.  I  cannot  say  that  this  is  universal,  for 
the  stars  exist  for  themselves,  and  the  sun  for  other 
planets  than  ours ;  and  it  is  a  poor  thing  to  say  that  the 
life  of  animals  and  plants  is  not  for  their  own  enjoyment 
as  well  as  ours  !  but  so  far  as  they  regard  us,  it  is  an 
universal  truth,  and  the  Bible  was  written  for  our 
learning.     Therefore,  in  this  chapter,  the  sun  and  stars 


The  Creation, 


23 


are  spoken  of  only  in  tlieir  relation  to  us,  and  man  is  set 
as  master  over  all  creation. 

It  is  on  tlie  basis  of  this  truth  that  man  has  always  un- 
consciously acted,  and  made  progress  in  civilization.  Out 
of  our  humble  yet  kingly  investigation  of  this  world  and 
its  laws,  out  of  our  lordship  over  the  animal  creation,  out 
of  our  scientific  study  of  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars  as 
set  in  the  sky  for  our  direction,  has  grown  the  mighty 
fabric  of  our  civilization. 

Out  of  our  reverence  and  love  for  the  beauty  of  nature 
and  the  beauty  of  form  and  life,  have  been  developed 
the  poetry,  the  sculpture,  the  painting,  and  the  architect- 
ure of  the  world,  the  humanizing  and  the  softening  arts 
of  Hfe. 

On  the  varieties  of  climate  and  their  influence  has  de- 
pended much  of  the  variety  of  national  character,  and  on 
this  in  turn  the  progress  of  the  race  ;  for  it  is  by  mutual 
antagonism  and  recijDrocated  submission  of  diverse  nations 
to  one  another  that  the  race  advances. 

Out  of  quiet  and  tender  watching  of  the  life  of  animals 
and  plants,  of  the  deep  quiet  of  the  night  and  the  sunny 
radiance  of  the  day,  of  the  harmony,  beauty,  and  sublimit}^ 
of  nature,  have  flowed  in  all  ages  to  the  human  spirit 
deep  lessons  for  life,  soothing  influences,  kindly  impulse, 
the  enthusiasm  which  is  wisdom,  and  the  life  which  is  un- 
worldly. 

I  need  scarcely  urge  the  force  with  which  this  truth  is 
taught  by  geology.  Every  one  knows  that  the  whole  of 
its  revelations  allow  us  to  assume,  that  if  the  earth  was 
not  designedly  prepared  for  us,  it  could  not  be  better  ar- 
ranged if  it  had  been  designed.     The  various  rocks  have 


232  The  Creation. 

been  so  upheaved  as  to  present  themselves  easily  to  our 
working.  The  different  strata  have  been  so  exposed  as  to 
create  different  soils  for  all  the  varieties  of  vegetation. 
The  great  material  of  our  prosperity  has  been  taken 
especial  care  of,  and  preserved  in  great  basins  of  rock  from 
excessive  denudation. 

The  next  principle  is  the  interdependence  of  rest  and  icorl'. 
The  Sabbath  is  the  outward  expression  of  God's  recognition 
of  this  as  a  truth  for  man.  It  was  commanded  because 
it  was  necessary.  '  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,'  said 
Christ.  And  the  same  principle  ought  to  be  extended 
over  our  whole  existence.  The  life  of  Christ,  the  tj^pe  of 
the  highest  human  life,  was  not  all  work.  *  Come  ye  into 
the  wilderness,  and  rest  awhile.^  Toil  and  refreshment 
were  woven  together.  But  as  in  this  chapter  there  were 
six  daj^s  of  work  to  one  of  rest,  so  in  His  life,  as  it  ought 
to  be  in  ours,  '  labour  was  the  rule,  relaxation  the  ex- 
ception.' Labour  always  preceded  rest;  rest  was  only 
purchased  by  toil. 

This  also  is  universally  true.  Nations  and  men  take 
their  rest  after  periods  of  great  national,  intellectual,  or 
spiritual  excitement,  during  which  creative  ideas  have 
been  struggling  with  corrupting  ones,  and  the  work  of  a 
century  has  been  done  in  a  few  years.  A  pause  ensues  ; 
a  Sabbath  comes,  and  the  nation  or  the  man  sink  back 
nerveless  to  recover  their  strength,  and  to  realize  their 
new  position,  in  repose. 

Geology  teaches  us  that  the  same  principle  has  ruled 
the  history  of  the  earth.  Great  activity  has  always 
been  followed  by  repose.  When  one  agent  has  been  at 
work   for   a   long  time   at  a  certain  place  or  period,  it 


The  Creation,  233 

reposes,  and  gives  place  to  another.  "When  one  family  of 
plants  or  animals  has  prevailed  for  a  lengthened  period, 
it  pauses,  and  another  becomes  dominant.  For  m3'riads 
of  centuries  the  earth  has  rested  in  the  sabbath  of  night 
from  the  destructive  force  of  the  sun,  and  its  inhabitants 
from  their  own  fierce  activit}'  of  life  in  the  sabbath  of 
sleep. 

Thus  everywhere  the  principles  laid  down  in  this 
chapter  are  identical  with  the  main  principles  of 
geology. 

This,  then,  is  the  ground  on  which  we  meet  the 
impugners  of  the  inspiration  of  this  chapter — on  the 
ground  of  universal  principles.  We  say,  that  if  the 
Bible  and  Mature  came  from  the  same  God,  there  must 
be  a  point  where  the  principles  revealed  in  the  one 
coincide  with  the  principles  observed  in  the  other.  AYe 
have  found  those  principles  to  be  identical.  In  its  deepest 
depths  the  Book  of  Revelation  is  in  harmony  with 
Science.  "We  stand  at  one  point  of  the  circumference 
of  a  great  circle,  the  scientific  man  at  another.  There 
seems  an  immense  space  between  us,  and  if  we  go  on  pro- 
ducinof  our  lines  of  thouo^ht  without  reference  to  each 
other,  we  get  farther  and  farther  away.  But  let  us,  for 
once,  turn  back,  and  go  towards  the  Centre.  TTe  shall 
draw  closer  and  closer  together^  and  finally  meet  in  the 
mind  of  God. 

Lastly,  there  is  one  specially  sj)iritual  principle 
which  glorifies  this  chapter,  and  the  import  of  which 
is  universal,  '  God  made  man  in  His  own  image.'  It  is 
the  divinest  revelation  in  the  Old  Testament.  In  it 
is  contained  the  reason  of  all  that  has  ever  been  great 


234  The  Creation. 

in  human  nature  or  in  human  history.  In  it  are  con- 
tained all  the  sorrows  of  the  race  as  it  looks  back  to  its 
innocence,  and  all  the  hope  of  the  race  as  it  aspires 
from  the  depths  of  its  fall  to  the  height  of  the  imperial 
palace  whence  it  came.  In  it  is  contained  all  the  joy 
of  the  race  as  it  sees  in  Chi^ist  this  great  first  principle 
revealed  again.  In  it  are  contained  all  the  history  of 
the  human  heart,  all  the  history  of  the  human  mind, 
all  the  histor}^  of  the  human  conscience,  all  the  history 
of  the  human  spirit.  It  is  the  foundation-stone  of  all 
written  and  unwritten  poetry,  of  all  metaphysics,  of  all 
ethics,  of  all  religion.  It  is  a  universal  truth  whose 
dependent  truths  are  too  long  to  enter  upon  here,  but 
which  I  have  endeavoured  in  many  ways  and  at  many 
times  to  teach  from  this  pulpit.  It  is  the  glory  of 
this  chapter  that  it  proclaimed  in  the  earliest  times 
a  truth  which  it  was  the  object  of  Christianity^  to  re- 
proclaim.  But  it  is  a  truth  so  great  that  its  growth 
in  man  is  of  infinite  slowness.  If  in  five  thousand 
years  more  our  race  should  realize  on  earth  the  full 
meaning  of  this  divine  principle,  it  will  be  well  for  it 
indeed. 

These  are  the  universal  principles  which  are  to  be  found 
in  this  chapter. 

And  this,  we  are  told,  is  not  inspiration ;  this  is  not 
the  work  of  a  higher  spirit  than  the  spirit  of  defective 
and  one-sided  man.  This  illuminating  constellation  of 
all-embracing  truths ;  stars  which  burn,  eternal  and 
unwavering,  the  guides  and  consolers  of  men  in  the 
heaven  which  arches  over  our  spiritual  life ;  their  light 
for  ever  quiet  with  the  conscious  repose  of  truth,  *  their 


The  Creation.  235 

seat  the  bosom  of  God,  their  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
world ' — to  which,  obedience  being  given,  nations  are 
great,  souls  are  free,  and  the  race  marches  with  triumph- 
ant music  to  its  perfect  destiny — this  is  not  inspiration  ! 
Brethren,  it  18  inspiration. 


236  The  Baptism  of  Christ, 


[February  24,  1867.] 
THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 

Matt.  iii.  13. 

The  baptism  of  Christ  was  the  point  of  transition  between 
the  silent  life  of  thirty  years  and  the  active  life  of  His 
short  career.  It  was  not,  justly  speaking,  the  beginning 
of  His  work,  for  His  life  had  been  work  throughout. 
The  labour  of  His  ministry  was  the  exact  result  of  thirty 
years  of  inner  labour.  But  it  was  the  beginning  of  His 
public  work.  It  was  the  first  outward  expression  of  the 
inward  development  of  which  we  have  been  speaking  for 
four  Sundays. 

Before  we  endeavour  to  find  a  resting-place  for 
thought  in  the  baptism  of  Christ,  there  is  one  point 
in  His  development  at  which  we  only  glanced  last 
Sunday,  which  had  some  consequences  worth  our  con- 
sideration. 

We  said  that  it  was  owing  to  the  external  presenta- 
tion of  sin  to  His  holy  heart,  that  there  was  stirred  in 
Him,  first,  the  consciousness,  by  contrast,  of  His  own 
perfect  righteousness,  and  secondly,  the  consciousness  of 
His  power,  as  the  sinless  One^  to  redeem  the  race  from 
sin.  What  do  these  involve  ?  They  involved  suffering  ; 
and   suffering   as   He  suffered   involved    obedience,    and 


The  Baptism  of  Christ.  237 

obedience  produced  in  Him  two  of  the  most  remarkable 
characteristics  of  His  ministry — His  freedom  and  His 
force. 

Let  me  trace  in  outline  the  meaning  of  these  points. 
Consider  what  the  character  of  the  village  was,  out 
of  which  no  good  thing  could  come.  How  He  must 
have  suffered  there  I — suffered  from  the  immoral  life  of 
the  outlawed  Nazarenes,  suffered  from  the  bigotry  of 
those  who  afterwards  would  have  cast  Him  down  from 
the  hill  precipice,  suffered  from  their  blindness  to  His 
character,  too  true  a  tj^pe  of  the  blindness  of  His  countr}'- 
men.  In  this  way  He  bore  the  pain  of  the  contact  of  a 
holy  nature  with  sin.  At  times,  the  keenness  of  this 
pain  must  have  aroused  an  overwhelming  desire  to  go 
forth  and  do  His  work  ;  but  no  !  He  must  be  still,  He 
must  obey  ;  not  one  step  forward  till  His  Father  gave 
the  sign.  In  this  way  (and  it  is  to  this  period  of  His  life 
I  refer  the  text),  in  this  way  '  learned  He  obedience  by 
the  things  which  He  suffered.' 

Obedience  to  whom  ?  To  His  Father's  will.  And  here 
we  dimly  see  how  the  consciousness  of  His  intimate  re- 
lation, as  Son  of  man,  to  God  increased.  Day  by  day 
His  spirit  urged  Him  forth,  day  by  day  He  found  within 
Himself  no  sign  that  as  yet  He  was  to  issue  from  retire- 
ment. Thus  it  was  not  only  from  the  contact  of  a 
holy  nature  with  sin  that  He  suffered.  He  suffered  also 
from  the  self-restraint  which  repressed  the  natural  feel- 
ing which,  sinless  in  itself  and  spontaneous,  would  yet 
have  been  wrong,  under  the  circumstances,  to  indulge. 
Evcr}^  act  of  that  obedience  had  in  it  natural  pain,  every 
act  had  in  i^  exquisite  pleasure,  for  it  made  Him  more 


238  The  Baptism  of  Christ, 

and  more  conscious  tliat  His  will  was  at  one  witli  His 
Father's  will. 

This  was  the  spiritual  result  of  His  obedience.  It 
developed  day  by  day  within  Him  an  increasing  con- 
sciousness of  what  He  always  was — one  with  God.  In 
these  years  grew  up  the  deep  conviction — not  as  the 
result  of  reasoning,  but  of  impassioned  intuition — of 
that  which  afterwards  He  expressed,  '  I  and  my  Father 
are  one.' 

Self-restraint,  therefore,  repression  of  natural  and 
righteous  impulses,  because  their  expression  then  would 
not  have  been  in  accordance  with  His  Father's  will,  in 
other  words,  obedience,  marked  His  life  at  Nazareth. 

Now  there  were  two  especial  characteristics  of  the  life 
of  Christ  which  flowed  from  this — His  force  and  His 
freedom. 

It  was  the  source  of  His  force.  The  habit  of  self- 
restraint  increases  concentration  of  will,  and  concentration 
of  will  gives  force  to  all  action  and  all  speech.  Look  at 
His  words.  What  a  quintessence  of  thought,  what  in- 
finite meaning,  what  weight,  what  awful  force  within 
them  !  How  they  kindled,  penetrated,  and  glowed  in 
some  men  I  How  they  smote  the  hard  hearts  of  others  ! 
'■  Never  man  spake  like  this  man.' 

*  I  will  give  you  rest.'  Think  of  that  as  a  type  of  His 
words.  The  quiet  sense  of  power  in  it  is  almost  super- 
natural. The  secret  which  ages  had  only  hidden  deeper, 
the  pursuit  of  all  alike,  of  the  fool  and  the  philosopher, 
of  the  merchant  and  the  poet,  the  shepherd  and  the 
king,  the  savage  and  the  civilized,  of  this  secret  a 
despised  Jew  boldly  declared  He  was  the  possessor  and 


The  Baptism  of  Chjnst.  239 

tlie  revealer.  And  such  was  the  splendid  force  in  His 
words,  that  men  believed  them.  It  was  too  audacious  not 
to  be  true.  He  who  dared  to  say  that,  must  have  been 
more  than  a  mere  man. 

Look  at  His  acts.  He  put  Hirnself  in  opposition  to  the 
whole  power  of  the  Jewish  priesthood,  and  though  ap- 
parently subdued,  finally  conquered  it.  He  sent  forth 
twelve  unlearned  men  to  overcome  the  world,  to  overthrow 
all  the  old  philosophies  and  old  religions,  and  they  did  it 
in  His  spirit.  He  lived  out  perfectly  ever^^thing  which 
He  taught.  He  gave  humanity  a  universal  religion.  He 
saved  the  world.  It  was  the  power  won  by  years  of  quiet 
self-restraint. 

What  a  lesson  for  our  hurried,  self-assertive  life  !  "We 
rush  into  the  strife  of  existence  before  our  mental  powers 
are  braced  and  trained  for  battle,  and  we  either  fail,  or  do 
but  half  we  might  have  done,  or  in  a  year  or  so  we  are 
jaded  and  outworn.  There  is  then  no  force  in  our  words, 
they  are  not  the  results  of  any  slowly  acquired  principles. 
There  is  then  no  living  power  in  our  acts,  they  are  waver- 
ing, irresolute,  hasty. 

Brethren,  if  we  are  to  do  anj^thing  in  life,  we  want  for 
it  concentration  of  will,  and  concentration  of  will  is  the 
heroic  ofispring  of  the  patient  waiting  of  self-restraint  in 
obedience  unto  God. 

The  second  result  was  freedom.  I  have  described  the 
force,  the  vast  reserve  of  power  laid  up  through  obe- 
dience in  Christ's  nature.  Well,  that  in  itself  must 
minister  to  freedom.  Power,  when  power  is  of  an  evil 
will,  produces  wild  license ;  power,  when  power  is 
governed   by   a   righteous   will,    is   one   of   the   highest 


240  The  Baptism  of  Christ. 

elements  of  noble  liberty.  But  with  a  passing  glance  at 
tbat,  let  me  trace  for  a  moment  how  freedom  came  to 
Christ  out  of  His  obedience.  That  which  the  wise  Grerman 
said,  Christ  knew.  Only  within  the  circle  of  law  is  free- 
dom learnt  or  freedom  won.  The  physical  philosoj^her 
learns  what  are  the  laws  of  nature  and  their  work.  He 
finds  out  where  he  is  limited,  and  he  knows  that  in  that 
direction  he  cannot  move.  But  knowing  his  limit- 
ations, he  freely  acquiesces  in  them,  for  he  has  boundless 
room  to  act  within  the  circle  of  laws  he  knows,  and  on 
the  side  of  which  he  has  ranged  himself.  The  impotent 
struggler  against  law  is  a  slave  to  his  own  anger  and 
folly  ;  and  he  remains  a  slave.  As  long  as  he  fights  against 
law,  he  cannot  know  it  and  become  its  freedman  by  his 
knowledge. 

Apply  this  to  the  life  of  Christ.  Through  obedience 
to  His  Father's  will  He  was  at  one  with  His  Father's 
will.  He  stood  on  the  side  of  the  Lord  of  the  universe, 
and  then  the  whole  sphere  of  God's  action  lay  before 
Him,  in  which  to  freely  act.  His  spirit  could  expand 
with  liberty  in  all  directions.  It  is  true  if  He  had 
wished  to  do  that  which  God  did  not  wish.  He  would 
have  found  Himself  limited.  But  He  could  not  wish 
anything  but  His  Father's  will, .  and  therefore  there  was 
no  barrier  anywhere  to  His  thought  and  action.  He 
was  entirely  free — free  with  a  joy  in  His  freedom,  for 
so  perfect  was  the  union  of  His  will  to  God's  that  His 
feeling  was  not  I  must,  nor  even  I  ought,  but  I  delight 
to  do  Thy  will,  'my  meat  and  drink  are  to  do  my 
Father's  will ; '  for  there  is  no  restraining  law  to  him 
who  loves  the  lawgiver.     But  you  may  say,  If  He  was 


The  Baptism  of  Christ.  241 

limited  on  any  side  He  was  not  free.  I  answer,  He 
was  at  least  as  free  as  God  Himself,  whose  will  is  self- 
limited  by  right.  So  were  the  three  great  qualities 
which  make  any  action  great  developed  in  Christ  Jesus : 
union  through  obedience  with  the  highest  will;  force 
of  character ;  freedom  of  character.  In  silence  was 
wrought  this  wonderful  maturity.  For  eighteen  years 
in  still  retirement  the  mighty  heart,  the  universal 
spirit  of  Christ,  elaborated  within  them  the  conditions 
necessary  for  His  action  on  the  world.  For  eighteen 
years  the  all-embracing  love,  the  all-embracing  intellect, 
the  spirit  whose  depths  centuries  have  not  exhausted, 
and  whose  Life  will  be  our  life  for  ever,  was  content  to 
remain  at  rest ;  was  satisfied  to  be  tied  down  to  quiet 
obedience  to  His  parents,  to  the  common  duties  of  house- 
hold life,  to  the  restricted  life  of  an  apathetic  Jewish 
village. 

And  yet  towards  the  end  of  this  period  at  least,  the 
divine  love  and  pity  were  yearning  to  go  forth  and  act. 
The  holy  indignation  was  struggling  towards  its  utter- 
ance ;  the  inspiration  of  something  greater  than  human 
genius,  but  akin  to  it,  was  glowing  in  His  heart  and 
intellect.  But  He  would  not  move.  He  believed  and 
therefore  did  not  make  haste.  There  was  no  hurry,  no 
confusion,  but  perfect  order  in  that  divine  existence. 
It  was  the  noble  self-restraint  of  noble  temperance.  In 
silent  obedience  He  waited  for  the  summons  to  go  forth, 
and  live  out  in  action  that  which  was  within  Him.  At 
last,  when  He  was  about  thirty  years  old,  the  call  of  God 
was  heard. 

Our  first  question    is,  How  did   the   summons  come  ? 


242  The  Baptism  of  Christ, 

Tt  came  througli  the  natural  course  of  events.  The 
whole  course  of  history  had  been  a  preparation  for  the 
ministry  of  Christ.  We  are  told  that  there  was  a  stir 
over  all  the  world  about  this  time,  a  pause  of  expecta- 
tion. Systems  of  government  and  systems  of  philosophy 
had  been  exhausted.  The  world  lay  dying  of  that 
worst  starvation  which  results  from  want  of  new  ideas, 
and  an  unconscious  prophecy  arose,  traces  of  which  we 
find  in  heathen  literature,  that  a  new  king  of  thought 
was  coming  to  renew  the  spirit  of  the  world.  This 
prophecy^  vague  and  unconscious  among  Gentile  nations, 
was  clear  and  conscious  in  the  Jewish  people.  For  cen- 
turies their  prophets  had  given  it  form  and  substance ; 
their  sufferings  had  brought  it- more  vividly  before  them, 
and,  as  the  futile  efforts  of  Theudas  and  Judas  before 
Christ's  coming  seem  to  prove^  it  was  now  a  general  ex- 
pectation among  the  Jews  that  the  Messiah  was  on  the 
point  of  appearing. 

Now  it  frequently  occurs  that  the  longing  of  a  nation 
concentrates  itself  in  one  man  who  becomes  its  voice. 
This  was  the  work  of  John  the  Baptist.  He  came  forth 
from  the  desert  and  proclaimed  that  the  kingdom  of  God 
was  at  hand.  But  every  one  felt  that  the  kingdom  must 
have  a  king,  and  the  question  was  put  to  John  by  the 
passion  of  the  Jewish  people.  Are  you  the  King  ?  Are 
you  the  Christ  ?  And  John  answered,  '  I  am  but  a  voice  ; 
there  cometh  One  mightier  than  I.'  The  answer  quick- 
ened expectation,  and  far  and  wide  over  Palestine  there 
Bpread  the  cry,  '  Where  is  the  King  of  the  Jews  ?  We 
desire  our  Messiah.' 

Tlie  fulness  of  ti:nc  had  then  come ;  Jesus  honrd  the 


The  Baptism  of  Christ,  243 

•ummons.  He  heard  in  it  His  Father's  voice.  His  heart 
beat  responsive  to  the  cry  of  humanity,  and  the  Son  of 
God  and  Son  of  man  came  forth  *  to  do  His  Father's  will 
and  to  finish  His  work.'  We  will  say  nothing  of  what 
may  have  passed  in  His  secret  soul.  These  are  things 
before  which  the  truest  attitude  to  take  is  that  of  reverent 
silence. 

We  pass  on  to  His  baptism.  I  need  not  here  repeat 
the  story.  We  have  to  consider  what  is  more  important, 
the  meaning  of  the  act. 

It  was,  firat,  the  proclamation  of  His  human  relation- 
ship to  man,  and  of  His  human  relationship  to  God. 

His  development  had  reached  its  height.  He  was 
clearly  conscious  of  His  divine  nature ;  He  was  clearly 
conscious  of  His  complete  union  with  our  nature.  But 
His  divine  nature,  so  far  as  its  omnipotence,  omnipre- 
sence, and  omniscience,  so  far  as  all  that  could  separate 
Him  from  sharing  perfectly  in  our  humanity,  was  con- 
cerned, was  to  remain  uncommunicated  as  vet  to  His 
natural,  growing  humanity ;  while  the  perfect  holi- 
ness, the  perfect  spiritual  character  of  God,  were  to  be 
exhibited  unmarred,  through  the  medium  of  His  human- 
ity. Hence  His  baptism  was  the  formalized  proclama- 
tion of  His  sinless  human  nature.  First,  He  declared 
by  that  act  that  as  man  He  submitted  Himself  to  the 
will  of  His  Father,  as  shown  in  the  mission  of  the 
Baptist.  He  put  Himself,  that  is,  into  communication 
with  God's  existing  plan  for  the  spiritual  education  of 
the  race.  He  connected  Himself  with  the  whole  of  the 
Old  Testament  history  by  connecting  Himself  with  John, 
the  last  of   the  Old  Testament  prophets,  and  after  this 

K  2 


244  The  Baptism  of  Christ. 

momentary  contact  witli  the  old,  He  passed  on  to  found 
the  new.  By  this  act  He  bound  together  in  submission 
TO  His  Father's  will  the  old  and  the  new  dispensations, 
and  recognized  Himself  as  the  central  point  of  history  ; 
the  Man  to  whom  all  the  past  history  of  the  race  had 
tended,  the  Man  from  whom  all  the  future  history  of 
the  race  was  to  flow.  He  declared  Himself  not  only  to 
be  a  Man,  but  the  archetypal  Man. 

But  there  was  more  in  it  than  this.  How  could  He 
most  plainly  declare  to  men,  at  the  very  entrance  on 
His  work,  that  He  was  at  one  with  their  nature ;  a  sharer 
in  all  its  sorrows  and  joys,  its  infirmities  and  its  duties ; 
not  removed  by  any  unhuman  powers  from  its  sphere  ? 
How  could  He  best  throw  into  form  this  cardinal  idea 
of  His  manifestation  ?  By  undergoing  the  ceremony  to 
which  all  men  who  were  devoting  themselves  to  a  new 
life  in  Judaea  were  now  submitting.  In  the  same  way 
He  is  represented  as  undergoing  circumcision  in  obedience 
to  the  Law. 

We  find  this  idea  in  His  own  words.  John  objecting 
to  baptize  Him,  Christ  replied,  '  Suffer  it  to  be  so  now ; 
for  it  is  fitting  to  fulfil  all  that  the  law  demands.^ 
Observe  the  word  used :  not  it  is  necessary,  that  would 
imply  that  He  needed  a  rite  of  purification,  which 
would  infer  that  He  was  sinful ;  it  is  it  is  fitting — 
'  there  is  a  propriety  in  what  I  do.  I  do  it  to  declare 
my  submission  to  the  laws  of  my  human  nature ;  I  do 
it  to  show  that  while  I  am  on  earth  my  manifestation 
will  be  strictly  Jewish,  worked  out  in  accordance  with 
the  Jewish  law.'  He  was  entering  on  a  new  sphere  of 
action  ;    and  submitted  for  the  sake  of  fitness,  and   not 


The  Baptism  of  Christ.  245 

to  disturb  the  harmony  of  life,  to  the  initiation  which  then 
was  reckoned  as  the  best ;  and  such  a  submission  no  more 
implies,  as  some  have  said,  a  consciousness  of  sin  in 
Christ,  than  the  taking  of  the  oath  of  allegiance  on  enter- 
ing upon  an  official  post  implies  in  an  Englishman's  heart 
disloyalty  to  his  sovereign. 

This  leads  me  to  the  last  meaning  of  His  baptism. 
John's  baptism  prepared  those  who  underwent  it  for 
admission  into  the  kingdom  which  was  at  hand,  it  con- 
secrated them  to  the  new  work  of  the  new  kingdom.  In 
their  case  two  conditions  had  to  be  fulfilled — repentance 
and  a  sense  of  sin. 

But  these  conditions  were  impossible  to  Christ.-  He 
had  no  sense  of  sin.  He  needed  no  repentance.  The 
import  of  the  rite  was  then  different  in  His  case.  It  con- 
secrated Him  King  of  the  theocratic  kingdom,  and  pro- 
claimed to  all  men  that  His  organization  of  that  kingdom 
had  begun. 

Thus,  while  the  historical  meaning  of  the  rite  varied 
with  the  subjects  to  whom  it  was  administered,  there  was 
an  element  of  preparation  in  it  which  was  common  to 
both.  It  consecrated  the  people  to  be  members  of  the 
theocratic  kingdom,  it  consecrated  Christ  to  be  the  theo- 
cratic King  ;  but  it  marked  for  both  the  commencement 
of  a  new  course  of  life,  in  which  the  subjects  of  the  king- 
dom were  to  receive  pardon  and  life ;  in  which  the  King 
was  to  accomplish  the  work  of  salvation,  and  to  bestow 
life  upon  His  followers.* 

So  began  the  new   life   of  our    Saviour.     Instead    of 
silence,    golden    speech ;    instead    of    quiet    village   life, 
*  See  for  this  explanation  Xcauder's  Lihcn  Jem. 


246  The  Baptism  of  Christ . 

action  in  tlie  great  world  ;  instead  of  inward  develop- 
ment, outward  expression  of  the  results  of  development ; 
instead  of  domestic  peace,  stormy  opposition ;  instead 
of  dangerless  existence,  the  path  of  the  witness  for  truth, 
of  the  self-sacrificing  Love  to  the  goal  of  death. 

In  conclusion,  how  does  Christ^s  baptism  speak  to  us  ? 
for  in  the  light  of  His  life  can  we  alone  understand  our 
own. 

We  have  rites  of  consecration.  In  baptism  we  are 
claimed  by  the  Church  for  God,  and  dedicated  to  His 
service.  In  confirmation  we  publicly  assume  the  duties 
which  have  long  been  ours,  and  the  Church  consecrates 
us  afresh  to  the  work  of  God.  But  these  are  not  the 
parallels  in  our  lives  to  this  moment  in  the  life  of  Jesus. 
Our  truest  baptism  and  our  truest  confirmation  are 
often  unrepresented  by  any  outward  ceremony.  There 
are  hours  of  consecration  in  our  lives  of  which  none 
know  but  God  and  ourselves,  hours  in  which  our  whole 
inward  being  is  moved  and  trembles  like  a  flower  born  at 
night,  in  expectation  of  the  morning  it  has  never  seen  as 
yet.  Such  an  hour  sometimes  comes  in  youth,  when 
youth  has  in  it  most  of  the  poetic  temperament.  It  is 
generally  some  solemn  and  beautiful  aspect  of  nature 
through  which  God  does  the  work  of  reminding  us  of  our 
immortality.  We  are  living  thoughtlessly  ;  our  youth,  a 
medle}^  of  all  tempers,  is  sometimes  grave  and  sometimes 
gay,  sometimes  idle,  sometimes  active.  Our  life,  the 
sport  of  every  passing  gale,  without  an  object  or  an  aim, 
is  content  to  drift  upon  the  breeze,  and  to  enjoy  its  care- 
less freshness. 

Then  it   is    that    some   night,  as  we  go   home  by  the 


The  Baptism  of  Christ,  247 

starlight,  or  some  morning  as  we  watch. — in  that  dewy 
coolness  which  is  so  exquisitely  pure  that  the  sense  of 
it  is  as  a  feeling  in  the  heart — the  awakening  of  life 
beneath  the  uprising  sun,  that  God  touches  us  through 
the  solemnity  and  sweetness  of  His  world.  We  feel 
our  own  nothingness  and  vanity  before  this  mighty 
calm  and  beauty.  It  is  so  purposeful,  so  attuned  to 
harmonious  work,  so  full  of  latent  force  and  ease ;  seems 
so  alert  and  watchful  to  do  its  master's  will,  that  we  are 
startled  out  of  our  vain  existence,  and,  vague  and  unde- 
fined as  the  feeling  is,  realize  for  an  instant  the  infinite 
of  labour,  and  feel  that  God  has  for  us  a  future.  That  is 
one  of  the  consecrated  moments  of  life,  a  baptism.  'I 
made  no  vows,'  said  one  who  had  known  what  such  an 

hour  was. 

But  vows 
"Were  then  made  for  me ;  bond  unknown  to  me 
"Was  given,  that  I  should  be,  else  sinning  greatly, 
A  dedicated  spirit. 

It  is  a  more  solemn  moment  when  youth  is  over, 
and,  with  stores  of  thought  and  feeling  unexpended, 
our  work  in  life  is  presented  to  us  by  God.  The  path 
of  duty  lies  before  us  now,  untrodden,  and  as  yet  un- 
sullied. If  we  be  anything  of  men,  we  cannot  look  for- 
ward then  unmoved.  An  enthusiasm  comes  upon  us. 
There  is  with  us  the  sense  of  a  Presence  higher  than 
that  of  any  man,  who,  we  dimly  feel,  has  chosen  us 
for  our  work,  and  is  sending  us  forth  to  do  it.  We 
are  lifted  above  ourselves  into  a  higher  region  where 
thought  is  not,  but  only  inspiration.  We  grasp  with 
our  greatest  strength  the  new  world  of  our  aspiration. 
We   do   not   wish,   we    will   to    be   pure,   and    true,  and 


248  The  Baptism  of  Christ, 

faitliful.  We  consecrate  ourselves  to  duty.  It  is  a 
partial  exhibition  in  us  of  the  meaning  of  Christ's 
baptism. 

0  brethren !  keep  the  passion  of  these  hours  of  con- 
secration in  youth,  in  opening  manhood,  fre&h  within  your 
heart.  They  are  the  times  when  the  soul  has  escaped 
from  its  death  and  has  become  alive.  In  them  we  have 
entered  into  the  realm  of  the  infinite,  and  breathed  its 
invigorating  atmosphere.  They  are  given  to  show  us 
what  man  truly  is,  and  what  we  may  become.  Woe  and 
misery  to  the  man  who,  having  once  possessed  them, 
falls  utterly  short  of  their  ideal.  Yes,  when  life  loses  its 
colour,  and  the  days  of  existence  are  dull  and  apathetic, 
when  '  use  and  custom  have  bowed  down  the  soul  under  a 
growing  weight  of  vulgar  sense ; '  when  we  are  tempted 
to  be  false  to  God  or  man,  to  be  impure  and  base,  and  so 
to  die  eternally  ;  when  sloth  creeps  on  us  and  counsels 
neglect  of  life's  earnest  labour ;  or  when  still  subtler 
trials  warp  the  soul,  when  '  the  light  which  leads  astray 
is  light  from  heaven  ;  ^  when  art  lures  us  to  make  life 
nothing  but  a  scene  of  beauty ;  or  when  science  makes  us 
in  love  with  a  universe  of  death,  and  blots  out  the  old 
world  'whioh  moved  with  light  and  life  informed'  in 
which  we  walked  with  God ;  oh  !  then  look  back,  recall 
these  consecrated  hours,  say  to  yourself,  Then  I  was  alive, 
then  I  was  truly  myself;  I  will  not  be  unworthy  of  the 
vows  then  made  for  me ;  I  will  not  fall  below  the  promise 
of  my  hour  of  consecration  to  a  true  and  holy  life  for  God 
and  man. 

And  having  thus  conquered  temptation,  you  may 
then  become  aware,  in  that  moment  of  high  resolve,  of 


The  Baptism  of  Christ.  249 

a  still  more  solemn  consecration.  Awakened  out  of  the 
danger  of  losing  your  true  self,  startled  by  your  own 
weakness,  your  soul  is  open  to  the  deeper  influences  of 
the  Spirit  of  God.  You  become  conscious  of  God  in 
a  nearer  relation  than  before.  You  feel  that  He  has 
been  with  you,  giving  you,  and  educating  you  by,  3^our 
work.  You  realize  that  you  are  His  son,  and  that  He 
is  your  Father  in  Christ  Jesus.  Moreover,  you  have 
been  convinced  by  failure  of  your  weakness  and  sin,  and 
you  cannot  rest  till  you  have  found  a  Saviour.  That 
is  the  great  baptism  of  the  soul — the  great  hour  of  con- 
secration. Life  takes  then  a  new  aspect.  The  old  duties 
remain,  but  they  are  held  in  a  higher  service.  You  have 
not  only  a  work  to  do  for  man,  you  have  a  work  to 
do  for  God,  and  the  two  spheres  of  labour  mingle  into 
one.  You  understand  then  something  of  the  deep  im- 
port of  the  baptism  of  Jesus,  something  of  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  filled  His  spirit  when  in  the  stream 
of  Jordan  He  began  in  self-devotion,  sad  and  resolute 
and  calm,  His  ministry  of  love.  There,  in  that  ministry, 
if  3^ou  want  an  impulse,  you  will  find  it,  an  impulse 
which,  though  you  falter  in  the  battle,  will  never  leave 
you  nor  forsake  you. 

Child  of  God,  consecrated  to  do  the  work  of  God,  look, 
when  the  heart  is  weary  and  the  spirit  jaded,  at  the 
life  which  followed  this  consecration  of  Christ.  The 
work  He  then  undertook  was  completely  done.  There 
was  no  sorrow  like  His  sorrow,  yet  duty  was  never 
refused.  There  was  fiercer  opposition  than  you  can  know, 
yet  there  was  not  one  failure.  There  were  more  obstacles 
than  you  can  ever  meet,  yet  ever  nobler  and  more  firm, 


2^0  The  Baptism  of  Christ. 

ever  wiser,  tenderer,  and  stronger  rose  the  spirit  of 
Christ  Jesus  to  accomplish  His  Father's  business,  till  in 
the  hour  of  triumphant  death  He  could  say  with  majestic 
truth,  '  It  is  finished.  Father,  into  Thy  hands  I  commend 
mj^  spirit.' 

There  is  our  motive  power,  there  our  aspiration. 
Bring  the  force  of  all  the  consecrating  hours  of  life  to 
bear  u^Don  that  ideal.  Look  not  back  then  to  recall 
old  feelings  and  to  win  a  power  from  their  memory. 
The  time  for  that  is  gone  by.  You  are  now  on  a  higher 
stage  of  life,  for  the  follower  of  Christ  who  is  baptized 
into  the  work  of  Christ  does  not  find  force  and  freedom 
for  the  duty  of  life  within  himself.  He  escapes  from  his 
own  weakness  and  slavery  to  lose  his  lower  nature  in 
the  strength  and  liberty  of  Christ.  He  finds  his  truer 
being  in  union  with  the  work  of  Christ.  The  child  of 
God  does  not  look  backward  to  gain  fresh  energy. 
His  energy  is  the  energy  of  hope,  and  not  of  retrospec- 
tion. He  presses  forward ;  his  glance  is  ever  on- 
ward. He  anticipates  revelations  of  God  more  and 
more  glorious,  consecrated  hours  of  deeper  and  deeper 
joy,  till,  at  last,  the  hour  of  death  baptize  him  into 
perfect  life,  and  consecrate  him  to  be  a  partaker  of  that 
ampler  and  mightier  work  which  God  accomplishes  for 
ever,  in  love  and  righteousness,  upon  His  spiritual 
universe. 


The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness. 


2;i 


TEE  FORTY  DAYS  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Matthew  iv.  1. 

The  baptism  of  Christ  was  the  culminating  point  of 
that  spiritual  develojDment  of  His  inner  life  of  which 
we  have  spoken,  and  it  is  sj'mbolically  described  as 
reaching  its  completeness  by  the  descent  of  the  Spirit 
upon  Hira. 

It  was  a  moment  tben  of  ecstatic  joy,  of  the  highest 
consciousness  of  inspiration.  Two  dominant  thoughts,  as 
we  have  already  suggested,  were  with  Him :  the  first, 
that  He  was  the  very  Son  of  God,  perfectly  at  one  with 
the  Father;  the  second,  that  lie  was  the  destined  Re- 
deemer of  the  race.  These  were  realized  by  His  human 
soul  at  the  hour  of  the  baptism  with  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  inspired  joy. 

We  ma}^  have  felt  this  ourselves  in  a  less  degree. 
Conscious  of  some  great  idea  which  has  lived  with  us  a 
hidden  life  for  months,  there  has  come  a  time  when 
it  seems  suddenly  to  complete  itself  and  to  issue  forth 
upon  us  clothed  in  light,  warming  and  irradiating  the 
whole  of  life,  recreating  our  whole  conception  of  God  and 
of  humanity.  It  is  an  hour  of  ecstasy  and  inspiration. 
Everything  seems  possible.      We   are   lifted    above    the 


252         The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness. 

ordinary  level  of  humanity,  above  the  customary  powers 
of  our  nature. 

What  is  our  first  impulse  ?  It  is  to  go  forth  and 
make  known  to  men  our  thought,  to  quicken  them 
with  our  life  and  inspire  them  with  our  message.  But 
at  first  we  find  that  impossible.  The  enthusiasm  is 
too  great  for  wise  action ;  the  joy  is  too  fine  for  con- 
tact with  the  rugged  world.  Our  passion  must  subside, 
we  must  realize  our  insj)iration  in  thought,  we  must 
grasp  our  new  conception  as  an  instrument  of  action 
rather  than  as  a  subject  of  contemplation,  before  we 
can  bring  it  to  bear  upon  the  world.  Therefore  it  is 
not  action  which  follows  at  once  on  such  a  revelation 
as  I  have  described ;  it  is  a  period  of  silence,  a  period 
of  loneliness  filled  at  first  with  deep  restfulness  of 
being,  with  repressed  enthusiasm  of  joy.  But  we  cannot 
expect  these  feelings  to  last.  The  very  strength  of  our 
delight  causes  a  reaction,  and  in  the  reaction  we  become 
aware  of  the  other  side  of  our  enthusiasm.  We  realize 
the  image  of  our  original  conception  in  contact  with  the 
old  and  outworn  conceptions  accredited  by  lapse  of  time 
and  ha.bit  in  the  world.  We  are  forced  to  look  in  the 
face  the  gigantic  difficulties  of  introducing  an  original 
idea  among  those  which  are  by  the  very  nature  of  the  case 
its  enemies. 

Such  is  the  general  representation  of  that  crisis 
which  all  men  who  have  reinvigorated  the  world  with 
a  new  conception  must  have  more  or  less  experienced. 
When  it  came  in  the  life  of  Christ,  it  came  as  it  would 
come  to  a  perfect  man.  It  was  clearly  defined.  It  was 
consciously  accepted.     It  was  concentrated.     It  was  apart 


TJie  Forty  Days  m  the  Wilderness,        o.^^ 

from  the  errors,  tlie  fluctuations,  the  mistakes,  which 
belong  to  it  in  the  case  of  ordinary  men.  It  shared 
in  all  that  belonged  to  pure  human  nature.  It  was 
freed  from  the  disturbing  influences  of  sinful  human 
nature. 

Now,  if  our  representation  be  true,  we  make  a  mistake 
when  we  think  that  those  forty  days  in  the  wilderness 
were  all  days  of  temptation  and  sorrow.  They  must  have 
been,  on  the  contrary,  days,  at  first,  of  peaceful  rest,  of 
intense  joy. . 

Alone  with  God,  driven  by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilder- 
ness, the  Saviour  dwelt  in  the  peaceful  thought  of  His 
union  with  His  Father.  The  words  spoken  at  the  baptism, 
the  fulness  of  the  Spirit's  power  within  Him,  had  filled 
His  human  heart  with  serene  ecstasy.  He  went  into  the 
wilderness  to  realize  it  all  more  full}',  to  expand  within 
Himself  through  meditation  the  ideas  of  which  He  had 
become  so  deeply  conscious,  to  devote  Himself  in  depth  of 
solemn  forethought  to  work  out  in  active  life  the  me&sage 
of  His  Father. 

It  was  then  in  this  spiritual  rest  and  joy  that  we 
may  reverently  conceive  the  beginning  of  the  wilderness 
life  was  passed.  As  such,  it  was  the  first  pure  poetry 
of  the  perfect  union  which  was  to  arise  between  the 
heart  of  man  and  the  Spirit  of  God ;  the  spring-time  of 
the  new  life ;  the  first  clear  music  which  ever  flowed 
from  the  harmony  of  a  human  spirit  with  the  life  of 
the  universe.  Both  sanff  the  same  sons: — the  son^-  of 
self-sacrifice. 

But  now  we  meet  the  question,  How  did  this  become 
test,  temptation  ?     To  understand  this  we  must  recall  the 


254        The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness. 

two  great  ideas  in  His  mind:  the  first,  that  He  was  at  on) 
with  the  Father — that  gave  Him  His  perfect  joy ;  the 
second,  that  He  was  the  destined  Redeemer  of  the  race, 
the  Messiah  long  desired  by  men. 

Now  observe,  that  in  Him  the  second  thought  followed 
naturally  upon  the  first.  He  could  not  remain  in  mere 
self- enjoyment  of  this  fulness  of  life  with  God.  Life  must 
of  its  very  nature  pass  beyond  itself  to  give  life,  and  the 
infinite  joy  of  the  Saviour's  life  in  God  became  coincident 
with  infinite  longing  to  communicate  that  joy  to  men. 
The  two  ii,Teat  ideas  of  His  spirit  mingled  into  one — His 
fulness  of  life  was  fulness  of  love. 

To  the  first  peaceful  days  had  now  succeeded  daj^s  when 
desire  to  begin  His  redemptive  work  filled  His  soul.  And 
the  voice  in  His  own  soul  was  echoed  by  the  cry  of  the 
Jewish  people  for  their  Messiah.  He  was  urged,  then,  by 
two  calls,  one  within  and  one  without. 

But  —  and  here  is  the  point  at  which  suffering  and 
test  entered — these  two  voices  directly  contradicted  one 
another.  As  soon  as  Christ  turned  to  the  world  with 
the  greeting  of  His  love.  He  heard  coming  from  the 
world  an  answering  greeting  of  welcome,  but  the  ideas 
which  lay  beneath  it  were  in  radical  opposition  to  His 
own.  The  vision  of  an  omnipotent  king  and  an  exter- 
nal kingdom  was  presented  to  His  spirit  as  the  ideal  of 
the  Jewish  people.  It  came  rudely  into  contact  with  the 
vision  in  His  own  heart  of  a  king  made  perfect  by  suffer- 
ing:, of  a  kingdom  hidden  at  first  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  depth  and  manifoldness  of  the 
tests  which  arose  from  the  clashing  of  these  two  opposed 
conceptions. 


The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness. 


'OD 


But  it  was  not  only  test,  but  temptation — whlcli  He 
rejected  without  having  clierislied  it  for  a  moment — 
which  came  to  meet  Him  in  these  two  opposed  con- 
ceptions. 

How  was  this  ?  "We  have  spoken  of  His  joy.  Xow 
observe  the  sorrow  which  followed  it. 

For  years  of  silence  at  Nazareth  he  had  observed  and 
felt  this  false  ideal  of  the  Messiah  and  His  kingdom 
among  the  Jews.  His  sympathy  with  the  universal 
heart  of  His  people  made  Him  comprehend  it  clearly. 
It  accompanied  Him  from  Nazareth  to  Jordan,  and  in 
the  cries  for  a  Messiah  which  He  heard  from  the  crowds 
round  John  the  Baptist,  it  was  brought  more  promi- 
nently before  Him.  In  the  moment  of  His  self-dedica- 
tion to  His  work  at  baptism,  it  necessarily  took  even  a 
stronger  form  and  presented  a  sharper  contrast  to  His  own 
conception  of  His  Messiahship.  But  the  more  He  realized 
it,  the  more  powerfully  rose  the  Holy  Spirit  within  Him 
against  it  in  strong  repulsion.  This  repellent  force  of  the 
Si^irit  against  the  Jewish  thought  drove  Him  away  from 
men  into  the  desert. 

And  now  began  the  contest.  His  love  of  men  urged 
Him  to  go  forth.  His  shrinking  from  their  evil  thought 
of  Him  drove  Him  back  into  the  waste.  As  often  as 
He  turned  to  men,  so  often  was  He  met  with  the  false 
image  they  had  made  of  Him,  so  often  was  presented  to 
Him  the  temptation  of  throwing  Himself  into  their  ideas, 
of  founding  His  kingdom  at  once  in  splendour  over  a 
people  delivered  b}"  miraculous  power  from  the  Roman 
tyranny.  He  never  received  the  thought  of  yielding  for  a 
moment  into  His  spirit,  but  presented  to  His  intellect  and 


256         The  Forty  Days  ifi  the  Wilderness. 

heart  it  tortured  Him.  He  saw  Himself  in  necessary  con- 
flict with  those  He  loved.  He  saw  Himself  hated  and 
despised  by  those  He  meant  to  save.  He  saw  that  the 
conflict  of  His  ideas  with  those  of  the  world  must  end  in 
death.  For  many  days  the  sufiering  of  this  temptation 
lasted.  He  could  not  go  forth  till  all  the  possible  phases 
which  this  temptation — the  temptation  of  His  ministry 
— could  assume,  had  been  realized  in  thought  and  con- 
quered. 

This  is  the  second  thoiiglit  we  must  connect  with  the 
wilderness  life  of  Christ — His  humanity  plunged  into  the 
deepest  sorrow,  engaged  in  the  pain  of  a  tremendous 
struggle  against  the  evil  conception  formed  by  men  of  His 
mission  and  His  work. 

Combine  those  two  thoughts,  the  joy  and  the  sorrow  in 
the  desert,  and  we  find  Christ's  mingled  being,  Son  of  God 
and  Son  of  man.  One  and  the  same  impulse,  the  impulse 
to  be  the  Redeemer  of  men,  aflbrded  Him  at  once  the 
deepest  joy  and  the  deepest  pain :  deepest  joy,  because  in 
that  impulse  He  recognized  most  fully  His  union  with  His 
Father ;  deepest  sorrow,  because  in  that  same  impulse  He 
was  made  conscious  of  His  woful  separation  from  the 
humanity  He  loved. 

We  discover,  then,  in  Christ  that  strange  union  of  two 
human  passions  of  which  we  ourselves  are  sometimes  con- 
scious :  joy  so  keen  as  to  be  pain,  sorrow  so  deep  as  to  be 
cherished  as  a  pleasure.  For  there  is  a  blessedness  which 
arises  out  of  sorrow,  and  there  is  a  spiritual  peace  in 
which  'all  the  joys  of  heaven  meet  and  interchange 
greetings  with  all  the  sorrows  of  humanity.' — It  was 
in  this   state  of  heart  that  Christ  may  have  been  dur- 


The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness.        237 

ing  the  forty  days  in  the  wilderness.  In  the  over- 
whelming rush  of  these  feelings,  meeting,  mingling, 
clashing,  He  lost  all  perception  of  the  usual  wants  of  the 
body.  The  spiritual  life  in  its  intensity  kept  the  physical 
in  abeyance,  and  out  of  this  majestic  but  unforced  pre- 
dominance of  the  spirit  over  the  body  was  partially  born 
His  factory. 

Such  is  the  general,  large  idea  of  the  solitary  contest 
of  Christ  in  the  wilderness,  before  the  three  particular 
temptations  were  presented  to  Him. 

What  does  it  represent  to  us  ?  It  represents  the 
great  law  of  the  history  of  man's  nature — that  every  one 
of  us  must,  in  order  to  realize  our  true  work  and  moral 
position  in  this  world,  meet  and  contend  with  the  powers 
of  evil. 

At  one  time  or  another  our  Father  makes  us  aware 
that  we  have  a  work  in  this  world  to  do  against  evil. 
We  become  conscious  of  ourselves  as  the  soldiers  of  God. 
And  the  moment  that  occurs  we  find  ourselves  driven  by 
the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness ;  we  find  ourselves  in 
opposition  to  the  false  ideas  of  the  world.  The  whole 
aspect  of  life  is  changed.  We  feel  the  weight  of  a  new 
res]~>onsibility.  We  begin  to  acknowledge  that  we  are 
fellow- workers  with  God,  that  we  too,  like  the  Saviour, 
are  called  upon  to  do  a  redeeming  work.  To  realize  that 
fully  is  to  be  partaker  of  a  great  joy  and  of  a  great  sor- 
row ;  of  the  joy  of  getting  near  to  God  ;  of  the  sorrow 
which  is  bom  as  we  look  forward  to  the  weary  warfare  we 
must  wage  against  the  world  with  Christ. 

It  is  a  solitary  time,  a  time  in  the  desert,  and  we 
must  meet  it  in  resolute  silence  ;  gathering  up  strength 
I  s 


258         The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness. 

througli  prayer  and  quiet  communion  witli  our  Father's 
Spirit  for  the  strife  of  the  Christian  warrior's  life. 

It  is  an  hour  of  temptation,  for  to  us  as  to  Christ  the 
spirit  of  the  world  presents  itself  alluringly.  The  siren 
song  of  pleasure  lures  us  from  our  labour  at  the  oar.  The 
self  and  the  flesh  within  us  raise  with  joy  their  heads  in 
answer.  '■  Duty  is  hard,'  they  say,  *  life  is  short,  too 
short  for  enjoyment.  You  have  fine  senses,  high  gifts 
and  powers,  why  employ  them  in  labour  which  will 
only  bring  you  pain  ?  Employ  them  rather  in  turning 
the  stones  of  life  into  bread.  Throw  yourself  into  the 
ideas  of  the  world ;  whj^  should  you  wear  out  your  life  in 
opposition  ?  Float  down  the  stream,  take  your  ease,  eat, 
drink,  and  be  meiTy.' 

And  the  voice  of  Christ  whispers  in  reply,  *  My  brother, 
take  up  your  cross  and  follow  me.  Duty  is  severe,  but  it 
is  the  greatness  of  the  soul.  Obedience  is  di£B.cult,  but 
it  is  the  path  to  freedom.  Suffering  and  the  battle 
against  the  world  are  hard  for  flesh  and  blood  to  bear, 
but  out  of  them  is  wrought  high  honour,  true  manhood, 
likeness  unto  Me.  My  strength  is  made  perfect  in  your 
weakness.  My  life  is  found  in  the  destruction  of  your 
baser  self;  and  your  perfection  like  mine  own  is  won 
through  suffering  for  righteousness.' 

That  is  the  crisis.  How  many  of  you  have  passed 
through  it  ?     Whose  voice  have  you  listened  to  ? 

It  is  conversion  to  come  out  of  it  having  chosen  the  side 
of  Christ.  You  are  changed  from  one  of  the  victims  of 
self  into  one  of  the  noble  army  of  martyrs. 

It  is  by  changes  such  as  this — ^by  men  selecting  the 
good,   rejecting  the   evil — that   God's  regiment  of  war- 


The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness.        259 

riors  is  formed  ;  and  tlirougli  their  battle  taken  up  by 
a  succession  of  spiritual  heroes,  and  carried  on  from 
age  to  age,  righteousness  and  the  great  realities  of  God 
are  slowly  being  set  up  as  conquerors  of  the  evil  and 
death  and  nothingness  of  this  visible  world.  This  is 
the  deep  undercurrent  of  power  which  underlies  his- 
tory. The  temptation  and  victory  of  any  man  is  an 
example  for  the  moment  of  the  law  which  gives  this 
current  of  progress  force.  The  temptation  of  Christ 
was  the  embodiment,  in  a  representative  example,  of  this 
law.  It  is  the  central  point  to  which  all  previous 
examples  converge,  from  which  all  future  examples 
diverge,  and  in  which  the  meaning  and  the  force  of  all 
were  concentrated. 

He  is  then  the  King,  by  victory,  of  all  the  warrior  host 
of  God.  He  met  the  very  first  principle  of  evil,  and  He 
drove  it  back  into  its  native  nothingness.  And  He  did 
this  in  the  might  of  holy  and  suffering  humanity.  Our 
nature  has  therefore  triumphed  over  evil,  and  though  it 
was  with  agony,  '  with  strong  crying  and  tears,'  yet  even 
that  is  matter  to  us  of  adoring  joy,  *  for  in  that  He 
suffered  being  tempted.  He  is  able  to  succour  them  that 
are  tempted.' 

I  suppose  no  truths  can  be  dearer  to  a  human  heart 
than  these  two — the  sympathy  of  the  Son  of  man  in 
temptation ;  the  victory  of  humanity  in  the  Son  of  man 
over  evil. 

For  we  are  so  tried  and  tossed,  so  compassed  round 
with  pain,  so  much  apparently  the  sport  of  fanciful 
passion,  so  curiously  framed  as  it  were  for  temptation, 
with   high    aspirations    living    in    us    along   with    base 

B    2 


26o        The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wildeniess, 

desires;  so  hovering  ever  on  tlie  verge  of  good  and  ill, 
and  so  weak  to  choose  the  good;  so  troubled  by  the 
necessity  of  battle  when  our  heart  is  weary  with  the 
passionate  longing  for  rest  ;•  so  sick  of  ourselves  and  of 
the  vile  cravings  which  at  times  possess  us,  that  God 
knows  we  do  want  some  sympathy  higher  than  any  one 
on  earth  can  give  us,  some  sympathy  which  will  not 
weaken  but  strengthen,  some  certainty  that  the  Eternal 
Love  and  Righteousness  can  feel  with  us  and  assist  us. 
Therefore  it  is  the  deepest  blessedness  to  know  that 
one  who  shared  in  our  nature — the  proper  Divine  Man — 
was  in  the  days  of  His  flesh  a  partaker  of  'our  strong 
crying  and  tears,'  and  *  learned  obedience  by  the  things 
which  He  suffered,'  for  then  we  know  that  He  can,  in 
His  triumphant  nature,  be  still  *  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities.'  Brethren,  who  are  struggling  with 
evil  within  you  and  without,  you  have  with  you  the  exalt- 
ing, power-bestowing  sympathy  of  the  Son  of  God  and  Son 
of  man. 

Lastly,  the  other  consoling  truth  is  that  humanity 
has  conquered  evil.  Take  that  great  fact  as  the  found- 
ation of  all  action.  There  has  been  human  temptation 
without  human  fall.  There  has  been  one  Man  at  least 
who  has  met  sin  on  its  own  ground,  and  has  baffled  the 
tempter.  He  is  your  brother  and  your  God.  Sin  is  at 
His  feet,  and  death  and  Hell.  Brethren,  if  we  love 
Him,  they  shall  be  at  ours.  We  look  forward,  then, 
not  to  defeat,  but  to  victory  —  to  individual  victory, 
to  universal  victory.  The  conquest  in  the  wilderness 
is  the  earnest  of  a  greater  conquest  yet  to  be.  The 
time   shall  come  when  evil   shall  have  no  place  in   the 


The  Forty  Days  in  the  Wilderness.        261 

universe  of  God,  and  holiness  be  all  in  all.  Ah  !  why 
should  we  faint,  and  falter,  and  despair,  when  that  is 
so  divinely  true?  We  are  fellow- workers  with  the 
Almighty  Goodness  to  that  majestic  end.  Therefore, 
conquer  evil  in  yourselves  in  the  strength  of  Christ. 
Personally,  that  is  the  only  thing  worth  living  for.  And 
once  3^ou  have  begun  to  conquer  evil  in  your  own  heart, 
you  will  be  able  to  contend  to  the  death  against  evil 
without  you  in  the  world.  Publicly,  that  is  the  great 
work  of  man.  Let  us  pray  this  day  with  added  fervour, 
that  He  who  fought  and  won  the  battle  in  the  wilderness 
may  give  us  power  to  do  our  duty  against  all  wrong 
and  all  sin,  with  our  whole  heart  and  soul  and  mind  and 
strength. 


26a  The  Transfiguration, 


[February  2,  1868.] 

TRE  TRANSFIGURATION. 

Luke  ix.  28—33. 

This  remarkable  story  divides  into  two  parts  tlie  minis- 
terial life  of  Christ.  It  is  the  central  point  of  His  public 
career.  It  is  connected,  in  thought,  with  His  baptism  by 
the  voice  from  heaven.  It  is  connected  with  His  death 
by  the  conversation  with  Moses  and  Elias,  '  who  appeared 
in  glory,  and  spake  of  His  decease  which  He  should  ac- 
complish at  Jerusalem.* 

It  was  in  the  evening  that  Christ  ascended  the 
mountain  slopes  with  three  of  His  disciples,  and  sought 
a  solitary  place  in  which  to  pray.  The  mountain  chosen 
by  tradition  for  the  scene  is  Mount  Tabor,  but  there  are 
reasons  for  denying  this  random  choice,  and  for  iden- 
tifying Mount  Hermon  instead  as  the  scene  of  the 
transfiguration.  The  summit  of  Tabor  was  inhabited, 
and  Christ  sought  for  solitude.  Six  days  before  the 
transfiguration  the  Saviour  was  close  to  Csesarea 
Philippi,  and  though  in  a  week  He  had  plenty  of  time 
to  reach  Mount  Tabor,  there  is  no  mention  of  such  a 
journey  to  Galilee  till  a  week  after  the  transfiguration. 
He  was  then  about  this  time  in  the  veyy  shadows  of  the 
chain  of  the  Anti-Libanus,  and  the  marked  expressions 
in  the  story,  '  upon  the  mountain,'  on  '  a  very  high  moun- 


The  Transfiguration.  cl6^ 

tain/  agree  with,  tlie  conjecture  that  it  was  the  lofty  side 
of  Hermon  which  He  ascended  in  the  evening ;  not  to 
its  exposed  summit,  but  to  some  secluded  nook  among  its 
grassy  uplands.  We  must  not  forget  the  appropriate- 
ness on  this  supposition  of  the  comparison  of  the  white- 
ness of  Christ's  garments  to  snow,  for  above  the  Apostles' 
heads  was  the  dazzling  snow  which  illuminates  the  peak 
of  Hermon. 

Such,  then,  we  may  conjecture,  was  the  place  and  such 
the  time  ;  a  lonely  mountain  recess  on  the  side  of  Hermon 
quietly  touched  by  the  evening  light. 

Observe,  first,  Christ's  love  for  mountain  solitudes. 
This  is  only  one  instance  out  of  many,  and  it  brings 
before  us  the  sensitive  humanity  of  Christ.  We  watch 
Him  as,  wearied  and  overwrought  in  the  warm  oppress- 
ive" air  of  the  lowlands.  He  ascended  oftentimes  at 
evening  to  a  higher  range  of  atmosphere,  where  the 
breeze  came  freshly  over  the  mountain  side,  bringing  with 
it  strength,  refreshment,  and  enthusiasm.  It  is  pleasant 
to  feel,  even  in  this,  how  we  sympathize  with  Him,  for 
none  of  us  have  passed  from  the  stifling  air  of  a  London 
summer  into  the  winds  of  the  Alpine  uplands  without  feel- 
ing not  only  the  physical,  but  also  the  moral  influence  of 
the  change. 

We  have  felt,  moreover,  the  deep  quiet  of  the  hills, 
when  even  the  sounds  which  are  heard,  the  whirr  of  a 
bird's  wing,  the  drip  of  water  from  a  rock,  are  not  con- 
ceived as  interruptions,  but  as  expressions  of  the  silence  ; 
we  have  felt  the  strange  impressiveness  of  this  living 
silence  which  brings  to  pure  hearts — and  how  much 
more  to  Christ,  the  purest — a  mysterious  but  real  sense 


264  The  Tra7tsJiguratio?i, 

of  exalted  power,  a  sense  of  solemn  joy  in  communion  with 
the  stillness  of  nature  which  is  work,  and  the  beauty  of 
nature  which  is  order. 

And  if  something  akin  to  this,  but  infinitely  deeper, 
did  not  influence  the  soul  of  Christ,  how  are  we  to  account 
for  this  marked  preference  of  mountain  solitudes  when  He 
desired  with  all  His  soul,  to  commune  in  prayer  with  His 
Father  ? 

It  does  not  seem  to  be  without  meaning  to  us.  Christ 
loved  nature.  There  are  those  who  take  up  the  words 
of  Cecil,  the  great  Evangelical,  and  say  with  him,  '  I 
want  to  see  no  more  sea,  hills,  fields,  abbeys,  or  castles  ; 
I  feel  vanity  pervading  everything  but  eternity  and 
its  concerns,  and  perceive  these  things  to  be  suited  to 
children.'  I  think  we  may  feel  that  this  was  not  the 
way  in  which  the  Saviour's  human  nature  felt.  He 
could  not  have  been  a  one-sided  man.  All  that  is  best 
and  purest  in  our  life  He  must  have  entered  into  in  a 
better  and  purer  manner.  And  when  have  many  of 
us  felt  that  we  were  most  divided  from  the  mean  and 
sinful  elements  of  life :  when  have  we  most  realized 
our  deliverance  from  the  burden  of  the  body,  and, 
through  humility,  our  dignity  as  sons  of  men  ?  It 
was  in  mountain  solitudes  alone  with  the  sky  and 
God  ;  or  deep  in  the  heart  of  the  woods ;  or  by  the  side 
of  the  lake  when  the  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds  made 
its  wild  metallic  music,  the  loneliest,  coolest  sound  in  all 
the  world_,  in  which  Nature  seems  to  utter  her  most  secret 
passion. 

These  were  the  very  haunts,  the  very  places  where 
Christ  loved  by  preference   to  wander  when   He  would 


The  Trails  figuration.  265 

most  realize  His  union  witli  His  Father — on  the  hills  of 
Palestine  when  evening  fell ;  among  the  olive  shades  of 
Gethsemane  ;  by  the  shores  of  the  Galilean  lake.  There 
everj^thing  spoke  to  Him  of  His  Father's  character. 
There  all  the  world  to  Him  was  sacramental. 

It  should  be  so  with  us.  Celestial  messages  and  grace 
should  flow  to  us  through  every  sight  and  sound  which 
touches  and  exalts  the  heart.  Alone  with  Nature  in  her 
sublimity  or  tenderness,  as  many  of  you  will  be  in  the 
coming  autumn,  standing  on  the  highland  moor,  the 
wind  your  sole  companion  as  it  races  over  the  heather  ; 
reaching  at  last  the  Alpine  ridge  with  the  silent  world  of 
peaks  below ;  looking  up  into  the  purple  depths  of  night 
upon  the  solitary  sea ;  let  the  stillness  creep  into  your 
heart  and  make  you  conscious  of  your  God  ;  let  prayer 
rush  to  the  lips,  not  the  prayer  which  is  petition,  but  that 
which  is  communion.  Realize  your  God  through  His 
eternal  Word  in  nature,  and  it  is  not  too  wild  a  hope  that 
on  you  too,  in  that  moment  of  felt  communion,  there  may 
come  an  hour  of  transfiguration  to  form  an  epoch  in  your 
life,  an  impulse  for  the  future,  a  foundation  for  higher 
and  more  serious  work. 

The  next  thing  we  consider  is  the  transfiguring  glory. 
As  the  Saviour  prayed,  His  whole  appearance  changed. 
His  countenance  shone  like  the  sun,  His  garments  even 
seemed  to  shimmer  with  light,  and  appeared  dazzling 
white  like  snow. 

Possibly  the  explanation  of  the  rationalist  may  be 
partly  true,  and  the  radiance  of  an  eastern  sunset  may 
have  gleamed  around  Him  as  He  prayed,  and  given  an. 
additional  element  to  the  glory  which  transfigured  Him, 


i(y6  The  Transfiguration, 

but  that  was  not  tlie  source  of  this  appearance,  nor 
did  it  add  much,  if  it  occurred,  to  the  wondrous 
sight.  The  light  which  irradiated  Him  came  from 
within. 

We  know  how  joy  and  love  will,  at  their  height, 
transfigure  and  change  a  man ;  how  noble  feeling  kin- 
dled by  high  enthusiasm  will  make  the  ugliest  look 
beautiful ;  how  strangely  on  the  features  of  the  dying 
inward  blessedness  will  seem  to  create  a  heavenly  light 
of  joy.  That  which  occurs  at  these  times  to  us,  hap- 
pened now  to  Christ,  and  in  the  greatest  possible  degree 
of  which  sinless  humanity  is  capable.  He  had  been 
rapt  into  intense  communion  with  God.  He  felt  the 
deepest,  nearest  union  with  His  Father,  unintruded 
upon  by  the  noise  of  men,  undistracted  by  the  troubles 
which  surrounded  His  ordinary  life.  And  this  fulness 
of  the  spirit,  this  ecstasy  of  communion,  this  celestial 
joy,  streamed  forth  over  His  whole  being  and  made  His 
appearance  glorious.  He  seemed  to  the  Apostles  another 
man.  His  very  garments  seemed  to  shine  with  the  light 
of  His  countenance.  Awestruck,  they  bowed  before  the 
revelation  of  His  inner  nature  freed  for  the  moment  from 
the  limitations  of  His  humanity.  Let  us  but  grant  the 
divine  nature  of  Christ,  or  even  grant  only  perfect 
spiritual  purity,  perfect  life  in  union  with  God,  and  there 
is  nothing  praeternatural  in  the  radiant  glory  in  which 
Christ  appeared  to  the  Apostles. 

At  least,  it  supplies  us  with  a  principle.  The  outward 
form  takes  its  glory  or  its  baseness  from  the  inner 
spirit.  Look  upon  a  child's  face !  Is  that  nameless 
innocent   brightness   ever  seen  in   after-life?     Can   you 


The  Transfiguration.  267 

not  read  in  a  base  man's  face  his  baseness  ?  In  tbe  most 
carefully  masked  countenance  tbere  are  casual  expressions 
wbicb  betray  '  the  passion  and  the  life  whose  fountains 
are  within/  Nature  refuses  to  lie,  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts.  And  if  this  is  the  case  when  the  spirit  is  mean 
or  selfish  and  there  is  the  careful  suppression  of  expres- 
sions which  betray,  how  much  more  is  it  the  case  when 
the  spirit  is  pure  and  true,  and  there  is  no  need  of 
concealment ! 

In  this  way  we  arrive  at  a  real  conception  of  that  which 
S.  Paul  meant  when  he  spoke  of  a  glorified  body  ;  of  the 
meaning  of  those  passages  which  speak  of  the  saints 
shining  like  the  sun  and  arrayed  in  white  robes.  The 
form  which  we  shall  have  in  the  world  to  come  will  be 
beautiful  and  radiant,  because  the  spirit  will  irradiate  it 
with  the  light  of  God.  Inner  purity,  glowing  love,  the 
clear  light  of  truth,  the  ecstas}^  of  undivided  life  with 
God,  will  glorify  our  form  into  that  supreme  beauty  which 
is  not  phj^sical  but  spiritual,  in  which  the  thought  of 
merely  physical  beauty  will  be  altogether  lost.  That 
which  transfigured  Christ  on  earth  will  transfigure  us  in 
heaven. 

Thirdly,  we  have  to  consider  the  vision.  *  And  behold 
there  appeared  to  them  Moses  and  Elias,  talking  with 
Him.'  Now,  however  we  may  interpret  the  circum- 
stances, either  as  objective  or  subjective,  the  meaning 
seems  tolerably  clear ;  Moses  and  Elias  represent  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets,  and  Christ  is  the  end  of  them 
both.  All  the  revelation  given  in  the  past  culminated 
in  the  revelation  which  He  gave.  The  glory  of  the 
Law  and  of  the  Prophets  was  fulfilled  and  expanded  in 


268  The  Transfigk7^ation. 

His  perfect  glory.  The  whole  of  the  Old  Testament 
was,  so  far  as  it  was  spiritual,  taken  up  into  the  New. 
The  unity  of  the  Old  Testament  with  the  New  was 
declared,  and  the  superiority  of  the  New  Testament 
over  the  Old. 

With  regard  to  the  Law,  Christ  destroyed  it  so  far 
as  it  was  temporary  and  preparatory,  while  He  fulfilled 
its  real  spirit.  The  Law,  as  a  set  of  literal  maxims, 
of  negative  precepts,  culminated  in  Pharisaism.  The 
Law  as  holding  in  it  spiritual  principles  which  were 
contained  in  the  maxims,  culminated  in  Christianity. 
Christ  destroyed  the  former  and  fulfilled  the  latter. 
The  Pharisees  deified  the  husk,  the  shell ;  Christ  reject- 
ed the  shell  and  discovered  the  kernel.  Take  one  ex- 
ample. The  Law  said,  *  Thou  shalt  not  kill ' — a  negative 
precept,  leaving  the  heart  untouched.  Christ  touched 
and  expanded  the  inner  meaning ;  made  it  into  a  prin- 
ciple, and  applied  it  to  the  source  of  murder  in  the  heart. 
'  He  that  hateth  his  brother  is  a  murderer.'  '  Love  your 
enemies/  Love,  and  you  cannot  murder  either  in  inten- 
tion or  in  act. 

And  if  Moses  stood  with  Christ  as  recognizing  in 
Him  the  fulfiller  of  his  law,  Elias  stood  there  and  saw 
in  Christ  Him  of  whom  all  the  race  of  prophets  had 
spoken.  Again  and  again,  in  various  ways,  sometimes 
obscurely,  sometimes  clearly — but  ever  more  clearly 
as  the  prophetic  spirit  developed — did  the  Jewish  pro- 
phets tell  of  a  deliverer,  and  a  king,  and  a  revealer 
of  God  who  was  to  come.  Of  all  the  nations  of  an- 
tiquity they  alone  looked,  not  backward  but  forward, 
to   a   brighter   age.     And   that   brighter   age  was   con- 


The  Transfiguration,  269 

centrated  for  them  in  the  appearance  of  one  Man.  And 
here  in  the  vision  of  the  Transfiguration  Elias  seems 
to  stand  by  Christ  and  saj^,  'This  is  He  whom  we  the 
prophets  have  for  centuries  past  proclaimed  as  King 
and  Saviour/ 

Again,  all  the  teaching  of  the  prophets  culminated  in 
the  teaching  of  Christ.  They  proclaimed  the  spiritual 
character  of  God.  He  wm  that  character.  They  de- 
preciated ceremonial  righteousness  in  comparison  with 
rightness  of  heart.  It  was  the  one  great  battle  of  His 
life.  They  (and  in  this  Elijah  was  pre-eminent)  drove 
home  by  personal  appeal,  and  with  astonishing  daring, 
the  arrow  of  conviction  to  the  heart  of  the  sinner,  re- 
vealing him  to  himself  till  he  trembled  and  repented. 
Through  Him  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  were  re- 
vealed. Every  chapter  of  the  (iospels  exhibits  to  us 
Christ  as  the  denouncer  and  the  convincer  of  sin,  and 
the  awakener  of  men  to  self-knowledge  and  to  penitence. 
They  were  patriots  of  Israel ;  Christ  was  the  patriot  of 
the  world.  They  stood  alone  against  their  age  ;  Christ 
stood  alone  against  the  spirit  of  the  world.  They  bid 
men  look  forward  and  watch  for  a  higher  revelation ; 
they  denounced  despair  of  life,  despair  of  nobler  times, 
despair  of  God.  They  saw  into  the  heart  of  things  by 
their  union  with  God  through  holiness,  and  they  pro- 
phesied of  all  things  working  together  for  good  to  a 
glorious  end.  And  He,  far  more  at  one  with  God  than 
they  were,  has  for  ever  lifted  off  the  heart  of  humanity 
the  doubt  which  obscured  the  future,  and  the  despair 
with  which  men  regarded  it.  By  the  one  act  of  the 
resurrection   He  has    made   immortal  life  a  magnificent 


270  The  Transfiguration, 

reality.  All  hope  for  tlie  race,  all  impulse  to  work,  all 
belief  in  progress,  has  directly  arisen  from  His  teach- 
ing. In  Him  we  look  ever  forward,  never  backward. 
Resting  on  His  life  and  its  teaching,  on  His  death  and 
its  redeeming  love,  we  can  believe  that  He  will  never 
cease  to  labour  and  redeem,  till  in  the  large  eternity 
of  charity  God  shall  gather  together  all  things  in 
Christ. 

This  is  what  we  see  in  the  figure  of  Elias  standing  by 
the  Saviour  in  the  vision  of  the  transfiguration — the  con- 
centration in  Christ,  in  all  its  fulness,  of  the  whole  spirit 
and  power  of  the  prophetical  order. 

Lastly,  the  Apostles  not  only  saw  a  vision,  but  they 
heard  a  conversation.  Moses  and  Elias  spoke  together 
with  Christ  of  His  death  which  He  should  accomplish  at 
Jerusalem. 

Thus  strangely  in  the  midst  of  radiant  glory,  of  ec- 
static joy,  intervened  the  thought  of  death  and  sorrow. 
We  found  the  same  intermingling  of  passions  in  the 
hour  of  the  temptation.  We  find  it  here  again,  and 
we  find  it  haunting  us  with  its  mystery  in  every  human 
life.  It  is  only  when  joy  is  most  passionate  that  we 
are  dimly  conscious  how  awful  sorrow  may  be  in  its 
supremest  depths.  Is  it  only  when  pain  of  heart  is  most 
passionate  that  we  catch  a  faint  glimpse  of  that  exqui- 
site ecstasy  of  delight  of  which  we  are  capable,  but 
which  eludes  us  always.  But  in  both  these  cases  the 
dim  consciousness  of  which  I  speak  is  only  ours  when 
the  pain  and  joy,  though  passionate,  are  not  base  but 
pure. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?     Why  did  Christ  at  the 


Tfie  Transfigtu^ation.  271 

most  ecstatic  moment  of  His  eartUy  life  speak  of  the  hour 
of  His  greatest  pain  ?  Is  it  possible  that  they  are  both 
one,  that  joy  when  it  is  noble  and  pain  when  it  is  noble 
are  identical  ?  Is  Christ's  sacrifice  the  very  essential  ex- 
pression of  God's  joy  ?  Is  our  sacrifice,  in  which  we  feel 
acutest  pain,  that  which  should  be  delight  ?  It  is  not  an 
improbable  solution  of  the  mj^sterj^. 

For  what  is  the  ecstasy  of  joy  in  which  God  lives  but 
this,  that  He  is  for  ever  giving  Himself  away  ?  Now, 
in  His  perfect  life  that  sacrificing  is  without  pain.  But 
suppose  that  God  were  to  limit  Himself  by  our  weak- 
ness, to  take  upon  Him  our  nature,  what  would  be 
the  result  ?  That  very  thing  which  we  find  in  Christ. 
He  could  not  cease  to  sacrifice  Himself,  and  to  find  in 
that  His  joy  and  life,  but — and  here  is  the  point — the 
sacrifice  being:  made  throug-h  the  channel  of  an  infirm 
nature  would  be  made  with  pain.  It  would  be  joy  and 
pain  ;  both  would  intermingle  and  run  intjo  one  another, 
so  that  at  times  the  pain  would  seem  joy,  and  the  joy 
seem  pain.  Now  suppose,  further,  that  a  moment  should 
come  in  such  a  life  in  which  the  feeble  human  nature 
should  be  all  but  overwhelmed  in  the  pre-eminence  of 
the  divine  nature,  in  which  the  spiritual  should  entirely 
predominate  over  the  physical  and  the  sensitive  ele- 
ments. At  such  a  moment  this  Being  w^ould  live  only  in 
the  pui'e  idea  of  sacrifice,  feel  none  of  the  pain  and  all  the 

We  may  so  perhaps  conceive  of  Christ  at  this  mo- 
ment of  His  life.  For  once  He  had  passed  beyond  the 
limitations  of  His  humanity  and  entered  into  the  life 
of   perfect   joy   in    sacrifice,    which    He   had    for    ever 


272  The  Transfiguration, 

witli  His  Father.  At  such  a  moment  what  wonder  if 
His  face  did  shine  like  the  sun,  and  His  raiment  be- 
came white  as  the  light  while  He  talked  of  His  deaths 
the  crown  of  His  long  self-giving  to  the  world  ?  He 
was  transfigured  with  the  exquisite  joy  of  sacrifice.  It 
was  not  sorrow  but  the  intensity  of  joy  which  He  realized 
in  speaking  of  His  death.  Conceive  that,  and  then 
we  can  understand  the  voice  which  followed,  ^  This  is 
my  beloved  Son  :  hear  Him.'  This  is  my  life,  my  joy 
in  giving  which  transfigures  Him.  In  this  perfect 
sacrifice  of  love  for  others  He  is  my  beloved  Son.  *  Hear 
Him.'  Follow  Him  in  His  life.  Learn  that  eternal  life 
is  giving,  that  eternal  joy  is  sacrifice  of  self;  that  the 
human  is  only  then  transfigured  into  the  divine  life  when 
the  pain  of  sacrifice  is  felt  as  the  most  passionate 
ecstasy. 

Brethren,  that  is  the  transfiguration  power.  That 
thought  transfigures  the  world  of  hum mity.  "We  see  it 
groaning  and  travailing  in  pain.  What  if  all  that  pain 
were  only  the  necessary  form  under  which  the  race  offers 
to  God  the  continual  sacrifice  through  which  it  is  being 
redeemed  by  Christ,  through  which  it  is  being  trained  to 
feel  sacrifice  not  as  agony,  which  it  must  be  to  an  imper- 
fect nature,  but  as  joy,  which  it  will  be  to  a  perfect  nature? 
The  world  is  transfigured  to  our  view  in  the  glory  of  that 
thought. 

It  transfigures  man.  Look  at  the  mother  who  gives 
her  health,  her  hopes,  her  very  life  to  her  sick  child. 
She  sufiers,  but  the  sufiering  is  a  joy  which  she  would 
not  surrender  for  worlds,  a  joy  almost  exquisite  in  its  pas- 
sion.    She  *  moves  with  inward  glory  crowned,'  she  has 


TJie  Tra7isfigitration.  273 

entered  into  the  eternal  life,  the  eternal  jo}^  of  God's  ex- 
istence, the  joy  of  losing  her  own  life  to  find  it  in  that  of 
another. 

See  Moses  descending  from  the  mountain  with  his  face 
gleaming  with  the  light  of  God.  What  had  transfigured 
him  ?  It  was  that  in  sublime  self-sacrifice  he  had  offered 
up  in  deepest  earnestness  his  whole  being  for  his  people, 
and  had  in  the  ofiering  become  at  one  with  the  life  of 
God. 

Look  at  Stephen,  his  face  like  the  face  of  an  angel. 
How  was  he  transfigured  ?  He  had  seen  his  Saviour,  and 
becoming  at  one  with  Christ's  spirit  at  the  moment  of  the 
consummation  of  the  most  perfect  sacrifice,  had  learned  to 
cry,  in  sublime  forgetfulness  of  self  and  all  its  passion, 
'  Lord,  laj^  not  this  sin  to  their  charge.' 

Lastl}',  brethren,  to  give  all,  to  live  in  others,  to  do  this 
no  longer  wdth  pain  as  we  do  here,  but  with  exquisite  joy, 
is'  the  life  of  heaven  with  God.  It  is  that  which  will 
transfigure  every  redeemed  soul,  and  make  true  life  a 
passionate  delight.  We  shall  be  freed  from  the  deathful 
nature  which  makes  us  give  up  ourselves  with  pain.  We 
enter  into  God's  life  of  love,  that  life  of  love  which  is  in 
itself  the  glory  by  which  He  irradiates  the  universe.  It 
is  eternal  life  to  be  united  to  that ;  and  to  possess  even 
a  sparkle  of  it  here  is  to  possess  something  of  that  glory 
which,'  streaming  forth  from  the  inner  life  of  Christ, 
transfigured  Him  in  the  days  of  His  flesh  upon  the  mount 


*  The  idea  -which  I  have  applied  here,  in  explanation  of  the  Transfiinirn- 
tiun,  will  be  found  fully  drawn  out  in  a  thoughtful  litcle  book,  entitled  The 
Mi/stery  of  Pain.     Smith,  Elder  &  Co. 
I  T 


2  74  The  Ascension, 


[May  17,  1868.] 

THE  ASCENSION. 

S.  Jolin  vi.  62. 

The  ascension  of  Christ,  to  celebrate  vvhich.  the  Church 
dedicates  the  Thursday  of  this  week,  is  the  crown  of  the 
life  of  our  Lord.  Our  belief  in  it  is  bound  up  with  our 
belief  in  the  other  supernatural  events  of  the  history. 
If  we  disbelieve  the  resurrection,  we  must  disbelieve  the 
ascension.  If  we  believe  the  resurrection,  we  must 
believe  the  ascension,  for  it  completes  the  resurrection. 

Now,  our  belief  depends  upon  the  previous  conception 
we  have  formed  of  Christ.  If  He  had  been  only  a  man — 
only  a  particular  phase  of  humanity,  and  not  the  uni- 
versal humanity,  concentrated  in  essence  in  one  Being 
(a  concentration  which  the  Unitarian  conceives  as  pos- 
sible without  divinity,  but  which  in  itself  seems  to  us 
necessarily  to  imply  divinity) — then  indeed  resurrection 
and  ascension  are  incredible.  But  if  He  was  something 
more,  if,  as  we  hold.  He  was  the  incarnation  of  God ;  or 
if,  as  some  Unitarians  hold,  in  Him  the  everlasting  Word, 
the  effluence,  but  not  the  equal  of  God,  came  on  earth 
to  realize  for  man  the  ideal  of  humanity — then,  starting 
from  that  point,  the  resurrection  and  the  ascension  are 
to  us  both,  the  Trinitarian  and  the  Unitarian  alike,  not 
only  credible  but  a  priori  to  be  expected.     Or,  to  put 


The  Ascension,  275 

it  perhaps  more  truly,  tlie  resurrection  and  the  as- 
cension, when  we  are  told  of  them,  commend  themselves 
to  our  reason,  prepossessed  with  this  high  conception  of 
Christ. 

Ah  !  some  one  saj^s,  you  allow,  then,  that  you  come 
to  the  question  with  a  prepossession  ?  Certainly  ;  a  pre- 
possession with  regard  to  these  acts,  but  a  preposses- 
sion which  has  its  own  particular  and  just  grounds ; 
a  prepossession  founded  on  the  study  of  the  whole 
character  and  life  of  the  Man  who  has  done  these 
acts  —  a  sort  of  prepossession  on  which  we  act  con- 
tinually in  our  own  life  when  we  refuse,  for  example,  to 
believe  in  a  crime,  however  supported  by  evidence,  which 
is  imputed  to  one  whose  character  we  have  known. 
'  It  is  impossible,'  we  say ;  '  he  could  not  have  done 
that.'  A  prepossession  which  is,  in  the  case  of  Christ, 
like  a  scientific  hypothesis  which  is  considered  as  a 
law  because  it  explains  all  the  phenomena  which  come 
under  it ;  and  lastly,  a  prepossession  which  we  have 
as  good  a  rigtt  to  as  our  opponents  have  to  theirs. 
Those  who  start  on  their  investigation  of  the  life  of 
Christ  with  the  theory  that  the  supernatural  is  impos- 
sible, have  no  right  to  complain  of  us  who  start  with 
the  theory  that  the  supernatural  is  possible.  The  test 
of  the  probable  truth  of  both  our  theories  is  whether 
they  explain  the  facts.  Is  the  life  of  Christ,  and  all  that 
has  resulted  from  it,  more  explicable  on  the  natural 
or  the  supernatural  hypothesis  ?  I  confess  that  the  h}^- 
pothesis  of  the  destructive  critics  seems  to  explain  no- 
thing, not  even  the  residuum  of  facts  which  it  accepts  ; 
certainly   not   the    stupendous    historical   results   which 


276  The  Ascension, 

followed,  and  still  follow,  on  His  revelation  ;  certainly 
not  the  distinct  existence  of  a  peculiar  spiritual  life  in 
individuals,  whicli  has  made  them  conquerors  of  the 
worldly  spirit  in  all  its  forms,  and  capable  of  radiating 
this  peculiar  life  to  others. 

Holding,  then,  the  possibility  of  the  supernatural, 
though  not  of  the  prteternatural,  I  should  expect,  a, 
priori,  the  resurrection  and  the  ascension.  It  is  not 
my  intention  to  attemj)t  an  explanation  of  the  how  and 
the  whither  of  the  ascension.  It  is  evident  from  the 
account,  that  Christ's  form  was  not  the  natural  body 
which  He  possessed  before  death.  ■  Ascension  would 
then  have  been  praeternatural.  It  was  a  *  spiritual 
body,'  not  subject,  then,  to  what  are  called  natural 
laws  ;  it  was,  in  other  words,  a  supernatural  body,  and 
as  such,  the  ascension  was  appropriate  to  it.  But 
leaving  this  aside,  we  will  pass  to  more  profitable,  as 
more  practical,  thoughts.  The  ascension  was,  if  we 
consider  its  spiritual  meaning,  the  return  of  Christ's 
essential  being  to  that  life  which  He  had  before  He 
came  on  earth.  During  His  life  here,  the  connection 
between  it  and  the  perfect  life  of  God  had  never 
been  broken,  but  it  had  been  modified  by  His  onion 
with  the  defects  and  infirmities  of  our  human  nature. 
He  took  upon  Him  the  defectiveness  and  death  of  our 
nature,  and  made  them,  through  obedience  and  sacrifice, 
into  perfectness  and  life.  And  His  union  with  our 
defectiveness*  appears  especially  in  two  things — first, 
in  this,  that  the  only  actual  world,  the  spiritual  world, 

*  I  use  the  words  defective,  defectiveness,  without,  of  course,  implying  any 
moral  or  spiritual  defect  in  Christ. 


The  Ascensio7i.  277 

was  partly  seen  by  Ilim  as  we  see  it,  as  the  phenomenal 
world ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  essence  of  God's  life,  the 
ceaseless  giving  of  His  life  for  all,  in  which  God  finds 
the  joy  of  His  being,  was,  in  Christ,  accompanied  with 
pain.  The  same  sacrifices  which  God  makes,  Christ 
made ;  but  Christ,  making  them  through  a  defective, 
though  not  a  sinful  nature,  made  them  sometimes  in 
the  agony  of  His  soul.  But  there  was  this  difference 
between  His  humanit}^  and  ours,  that  He  knew,  and 
could  realize,  that  which  we  never  fully  know,  and  only 
realize  at  moments — that  the  phenomenal  world  is  only 
the  form  of  the  spiritual;  and  that  sacrifice  is  not, 
rightly,  pain,  but  impassioned  joy.  In  knowledge,  then, 
though  not  in  daily  experience.  He  was  never  divided 
from  the  higher  life;  and  ascension  meant  the  re-en- 
trance into  that  life,  the  re-coincidence  of  knowledge 
and  experience,  the  passage  from  the  defectiveness 
which  feels  sacrifice  as  j^ain  to  the  perfectness  which 
feels  it  as  joy — the  passage  from  a  life  lived  partly  in 
the  phenomenal  to  a  life  lived  entirely  in  the  spiritual 
world. 

But  the  higher  life  was  reassumed  w^th  this  addition 
• — that  the  experience  of  the  phenomenal  state  and  of  the 
defective  nature  was  interwoven  with  the  experience  of 
the  perfect  state  and  the  perfect  nature;  so  that,  we 
might  almost  say,  God's  own  consciousness  was  enriched 
by  that  of  the  infirm  humanit3\  '^^^  words  in  which 
this  is  stated  are  open  to  theological  objections,  but 
the  thought  is  not;  it  naturally  arises  out  of  the  apo- 
stolic statements  of  the  continued  sympathy  of  Christ 
with  men,   of  the  union  of   God   through   Christ  with 


278  The  A  scension . 

men.  The  fact  may  not  have  been  caused  by  the  as- 
cension, but  it  is,  at  least,  made  known  to  us  by  the 
ascension. 

This,  then,  is  one  of  those  truths  which,  flowing  di- 
rectly out  of  belief  in  the  ascension,  make,  when  felt 
in  the  heart,  the  consolation  of  this  strange  and  bitter 
life  of  ours.  God  knows  and  can  feel  with  our  life. 
His  perfection  is  conscious  of,  and  therefore  can  sympa- 
thize with,  our  imperfection.  He  knows  with  w^hat  an 
awful  weight  the  mysteries  of  being  press  upon  our 
weakness,  and  how  deep  is  the  gloom  which  at  times 
comes  shadowing  across  our  path.  And  we  feel,  through 
our  k;now^ledge  of  His  transient  union  with  defective 
humanity  in  Christ,  that  he  can  identify  Himself  with 
our  joy,  pain,  and  effort,  and  live  in  our  most  secret 
heart ;  till,  in  the  darkest  and  loneliest  hour,  we  are  aware 
of  a  Presence  of  sympathy,  love,  and  power,  sitting  with 
uSj  hand  in  hand,  in  the  silence  which  is  more  comforting 
than  speech. 

This  is  the  exquisite  spiritual  comfort  which  comes  of 
faith  in  the  truth  of  the  ascension  of  Christ  into  perfect 
reunion  with  God. 

But  to  change  from  the  consideration  of  the  ascension 
of  Christ  to  the  consideration  of  our  ascension — that 
is,  of  our  passage  from  the  imperfect  to  the  perfect 
life — of  that,  what  'shall  we  say  ?  It  is  no  abrupt 
change  of  subject,  for  it  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Apostles 
that  when  our  particular  humanity  is  united  by  faith 
to  perfect  humanity  in  Christ,  all  that  He  did  is 
repeated  in  us.  We  die  with  Him,  we  rise  with  Him, 
w^e    shall    ascend   with   Him.     What    hope    and    what 


The  Ascension.  279 

belief  is  tliere  in  us  that  we  shall  pass  into  the  heavenly 
life  with  Him  ? 

The  question  brings  before  us  two  other  questions 
which  have  relentlessly  forbidden  us  to  rest,  relentlessly 
forced  on  us  the  riddle  of  their  solution — Whence  we  are, 
and  whither  we  are  going  ?  It  is  easy  to  say  we  come 
from  God  and  we  go  to  God  ;  but  men  have  never  been 
satisfied  with  this  general  answer.  Speculation  has 
wearied  itself  for  ages  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  problem. 

Whence  do  we  come  ?  what  was  our  previous  state  ?  in 
what  world,  and  how  did  we  live,  if  we  lived  at  all  ?  What 
relation  does  our  present  life  bear  to  our  past  ? 

It  has  been  the  poetic  thought  of  many  that  we  come 
here  out  of  a  past  existence,  in  which  we  were  nearer  to 
the  source  of  Light  and  the  source  of  Love  ;  that  Life 
here  is  but  a  wearisome  recalling  of  knowledge  once 
possessed,  a  wearisome  eff'ort  to  re-attain  a  holiness  once 
enjoyed  ;  that  the  child  being  but  lately  departed  from 
that  imperial  palace,  has  with  him  still  at  times  swift 
visions  and  fair  gleams  of  its  hidden  splendour,  but 
that  with  the  man  these  fade  awa}^,  too  proud  and  too 
delicate  to  bear  the  light  of  common  day.  These  are 
poetical  answers  to  the  question,  '  Whence  we  are  ?  '  but 
they  will  not  do  when  the  soul  is  passionate  with  God  and 
with  life. 

For  it  does  seem  the  worst  of  cruelties,  if  having  been 
at  home  with  light  and  goodness,  we  are  sent  down  to 
tlie  twilight  and  selfishness  of  this  world,  only  to  get 
back  again  with  difficulty  to  the  point  from  which  we 
started.  To  have  lived  in  the  imperial  palace,  to  have 
seen  from  its  portals  the  landscape  of  the  universe,  and 


2  8o  The  A 


scension. 


then  to  be  exiled  to  a  cabin,  into  the  dull  windows  of 
whicb  glance  only  now  and  then  gleams  of  the  excellent 
sunshine  we  once  enjoyed — that  is  a  thought  unworthy 
of  a  poet's  inspiration.  It  is  unworthy,  first,  because  it 
supposes  a  useless  waste  of  material  and  a  mere  capi'icious 
test,  and  God  never  wastes  one  or  applies  the  other ;  and 
secondl}^,  because  no  soul  having  once  attained  such  a 
measure  of  light  and  love,  retrogrades.  The  law  of  the 
universe  is  progress ;  or,  to  express  it  better  with  re- 
gard to  us — God's  work  in  us  is  education,  and  education 
pushes  on,  not  backward,  its  pupils.  If  we  have  existed 
previously,  we  existed,  it  seems  to  me,  in  a  state  inferior 
to  our  present  one,  and  we  are  here  for  further  develop- 
ment. 

This  brings  before  us  the  next  enigma — What  relation 
has  the  present  to  the  future  ? 

The  view  which  at  least  appears  to  maintain  that 
our  whole  education  is  finished  here  in  thirty,  forty,  or 
sevent}^  years,  grows  more  and  more  impossible  of  belief 
as  thought  deepens,  and  as  the  sense  of  the  infinity  in 
which  we  live  increases.  The  character  of  a  man  fully 
developed  in  seventy  years !  Think  of  the  very  best  and 
noblest  we  have  known — how  unfinished,  how  one-sided, 
how  unequally  grown,  even  to  our  eyes,  they  were  when 
death  summoned  them  to  change.  Think  again,  not  of 
the  best  but  of  inferior  men,  and  we  cannot  help  feeling 
that  half  or  two-thirds  of  their  being  is  only  in  a  I'udi- 
mentary  condition.  We  see  mental  and  S23iritual  organs 
which  as  yet  have  no  function  ;  we  see  what  maij  he 
centuries  hence,  but  it  is  as  we  see  in  the  fore- fin  of 
the  whale  the  perfect  organization  of  the  human  hand. 


The  A  scension .  281 

There  are  otlier  men,  nothing  of  whose  nature  seems  to  be 
developed.  They  are  the  zoophytes  of  humanity,  with 
a  spiritual  and  intellectual  being  entirely  incomplex, 
whose  education,  if  they  are  to  continue  at  all,  will 
necessarily  take  thousands  of  j^ears.  Seventy  !  Seventy 
thousand  years  are  not  too  much  to  bring  some  men  to 
perfection. 

And  as  to  this  life — this  short  sentence  in  the  volume 
of  our  being — we  may  be  sent  here  just  to  get  the  better 
of  onl}^  one  failing  in  our  nature,  one  wry  twist  which 
needs  sixty  years  or  so  to  set  it  right.  Or  we  may  be 
sent  here,  not  to  better  ourselves,  but  that  we  may  be 
sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  some  few  backward  souls  ;  for 
our  personal  education  by  God  is  in  subordinate  harmony 
to  the  education  of  all.  There  is  the  case  of  those  who 
seem  to  come  to  earth  only  that  they  may  suffer,  who 
die  all  their  lives  long  that  others  may  live ;  who  endure 
for  Christ's  sake,  without  a  murmur,  that  others  may  learn 
what  spiritual  peace  and  courage  mean.  I  can  fancy  the 
unspeakable  joy  of  one  of  these  who  have  been  offered  up 
for  the  race,  when,  in  the  next  stage  of  his  life,  it  is 
revealed  to  him  that  his  past  thirty  or  forty  years  of  pain 
have  been  impulse  and  redemption  to  many  of  his  fellow- 
men. 

There  is  the  still  stranger  case  of  those  poor  souls 
who  •  are  so  wicked  and  wretched  here  that  all  men 
shrink  from  them  in  dismay  and  hopelessness ;  who  do 
not  seem  to  be  born  for  anything  but  to  be  examples  of 
evil ;  who  have  not  a  chance  given  them  from  birth  to 
death — why,  perhaps  these  too  are  sacrificed  for  others, 
perhaps    they  mud    be    so    bad    in    order    to    touch  the 


282  The  Ascension.  * 

moral  sense  of  society  and  to  wake  it  to  consider  its 
injuries  to  men,  its  neglect  of  righteous  dealing  to  the 
poor. 

That  would  be  miserable,  insufferable  doctrine,  if  the 
education  of  these  outcasts  began  and  ended  here ;  but 
if  it  goes  on  from  state  to  state,  the  doctrine  has  a  wild 
gleam  of  comfort  in  it.  For  I  can  fancy  the  marvellous 
change,  the  rush  of  softening  tears,  the  penitence-bringing 
tenderness,  which  might  come  to  some  poor,  wicked, 
ruined  criminal  when  it  was  given  to  him  to  know,  in  the 
world  to  come,  that  his  evil  life  had  stirred  a  philan- 
thropist to  better  his  whole  class,  or  that  his  punishment 
had  been  overruled  to  bless  and  save  even  one  of  his 
brother-men. 

But  however  these  things  may  be,  it  seems  plain  that, 
if  we  have  lived  before,  we  are  not  worse  here  than  we 
have  been,  that  we  are  advancing,  even  the  worst  of  us ; 
alwaj^s,  however,  in  subordination  to  the  welfare  of  the 
whole.  For  if  any  of  us  do  retrograde  here,  it  is  for  the 
good  of  the  great  Humanity,  and  if  the  entire  mass  of 
humanity  is  moving  onwards,  we  shall  hereafter,  in  some 
form  or  other,  get  or  give  the  good  of  our  voluntary  or  in- 
voluntary sacrifice. 

It  would  scarcely  be  unjust  to  accuse  these  speculations 
of  being  disjointed,  crude,  and  wild,  perhaps  even  of  un- 
fitness for  this  solemn  place.  But  they  are  subjects  on 
which  all  men  think ;  and  how  else  than  with  a  certain 
crudeness  and  wildness  can  we  speak,  when  we  get  below 
the  surface  of  conventional  thought,  and  come  face  to  face 
with  the  mystery  of  life,  only  to  chafe  beneath  the  mock- 
ing smile  with  which  it  greets  our  effort  to  solve  its  riddle  ? 


The  Ascension,  283 

Everything  seems  to  our  weak  eyes  so  entirely  wrong,  so 
inexplicably  mournful,  so  oddly  awry,  tliat  even  vague 
suggestions,  provided  they  have  some  ground  in  the  nature 
of  things,  may  not  be  valueless. 

I  do  not  know  what  we  should  do,  we  who  feel  the 
'  burden  of  the  unintelligible  world,'  if  we  had  not  the 
hope  of  our  ignorance  becoming  knowledge,  our  failure 
victor}^,  our  selfishness  self-sacrifice  in  a  new  and  better 
life.  I  do  not  know,  I  cannot  realize,  how  the  atheist  can 
endure  to  live  in  face  of  the  things  which  we  see  every 
day.  Unless  there  be  a  secret  solution  of  it  all,  there  is 
indeed  no  God  whom  man  can  worship.  But  the  atheist 
looks  into  the  dreadful  eyes  of  the  mystery,  and  says  that 
it  has  no  solution. 

It  is  clear,  however,  if  His  life  be  true,  that  our  Saviour 
Christ  had  hold  of  some  explanation  which  we  cannot  find, 
at  least,  in  the  fulness  with  which  He  possessed  it ;  and 
believing  in  Him,  we  can  wait  for  light. 

S.  Paul,  S.  John,  and  many  of  the  true  and  saintly 
hearts  of  earth  saw  something  of  it,  and  passed  on  through 
sorrow  and  trial,  with  a  smile  of  triumph,  to  do  their 
work,  believing  in  the  evolution  of  perfection  from  imper- 
fection ;  and  we — oh  !  now  and  then,  even  to  us,  weak  and 
sinful  men,  there  comes  a  sudden  flash,  a  mystic  hint ;  the 
clouds  open  for  an  instant,  and  we  seem,  far  up  in  a  depth 
of  transcendent  blue,  to  read  in  a  moment  of  revelation, 
in  the  strength  of  which  we  go  many  years  of  our  pil- 
grimage, the  meaning,  vaguely,  of  it  all.  It  is  the  soul 
asserting  its  claim  to  the  ascension  life,  and  God  allowing 
the  justice  of  the  claim. 

Again,  it  is  not  only  the  sorrow  and  guilt,  and,  above 


284  The  Ascension, 

all,  the  hopelessness  of  a  great  part  of  humanity  which 
torture  us  with  trouble  of  spirit,  but  also  the  cold  insen- 
sibility, the  epicurean  carelessness  of  tranquillity  with 
which  Nature  seems  to  look  upon  our  pain.  We  feel  that 
we  ought  to  be  at  one  with  her ;  we  are  conscious  that 
we  are  apart.  She  looks  on  it  all,  and  weeps  and  rages 
in  rain  and  tempest,  but  it  is  not  for  us.  We  may  be 
torn  with  grief  or  passion,  but  her  skies  are  as  blue 
as  ever,  and  her  sun  as  unpityingly  bright.  We  may 
chance  to  be  in  harmony  with  her  moods,  but  it  is  but 
a  chance  after  all.  We  do  not  know  the  secret  which 
should  make  us  at  one  with  her  ;  it  belongs  to  the  ascen- 
sion life. 

I  do  not  know  whether  our  philosophic  poet  is  right  or 
not,  that  in  childhood  we  see  nearer  into  the  life  of  things. 
It  is  true  there  was  then,  to  some  of  us  at  least,  a  joy  in 
the  pure  glitter  of  the  stars,  an  exultation  of  heart  as  we 
watched  the  crystalline  flash  of  the  breaker  on  the  beach, 
which  now  has  passed  away  ;  but  I  doubt  whether  the 
touch  of  infinite  sorrow  and  the  awful  sense  of  homeless- 
ness  which  come  upon  us  now  when  we  lift  weary  ej^es  to 
those  calm  watchers  of  the  night,  have  not  more  of  God  as 
more  of  humility,  have  not  more  of  real  insight  into  being 
as  more  of  depth  of  feeling  in  them,  than  the  fresh  delight 
of  the  child.  So  j)assionate,  so  piercing  a  pang,  how  could 
it  be  felt  save  by  those  who  are  destined  for  a  more  per- 
fect life  ?  The  ^  thoughts  that  lie  too  deep  for  tears  * 
bear  witness  to  a  fuller  life  to  come.  Depth  of  feeling  is 
proportioned  to  glory  of  destin3^ 

It  is  in  hours  like  these,  after  the  exhaustion  of  the 
pain  of  speculation,  that  we  throw  ourselves  with  a  cry 


The  Ascension,  285 

of  faith,  voiceless  from  the  depth  of  the  passion  from 
which  it  springs — a  depth  of  passionate  human  feeling 
which  only  once  or  twice  in  life  we  fathom,  driven  down 
into  it  by  the  greatness  of  the  pain,  like  the  huge  whale, 
which,  struck,  plunges  into  depths  of  the  Atlantic  pro- 
founder  than  ever  it  had  sounded  before, — that  we  throw 
ourselves  upon  the  resurrection  and  ascension  of  Christ, 
and  claim  them  as  our  own.  Our  proper  humanity  has 
escaped  in  Him  from  imperfection  into  perfection.  We 
do  not  then  ask  the  questions  how  and  where.  We  do 
not  think  of  the  supernatural.  The  consolation,  the  relief 
of  believing  it  is  too  great  to  permit  us  to  doubt.  One  of 
us,  a  Man  like  ourselves,  has  solved  the  riddle  of  the 
world,  and  destroyed  its  power  to  dismay  and  to  devour 
our  souls. 

We  rest  on  the  fact,  and  have  peace. 

But  then  we  are  traversed  with  the  other  question — 
Whither  are  we  going  ?  Ascended  up  to  heaven  !  What 
is  it?  Death  is  infinitely  strange,  but  beyond  the  strange- 
ness of  death  is  the  strangeness  of  the  other  life.  When 
we  look  on  the  corpse  of  one  whom  we  have  seen,  heard, 
loved  day  by  day,  and  realize  that  the  whole  wonderful 
machine  has  run  down  and  will  go  no  more  ;  but  crumble 
into  dust  of  corruption,  and  nothing  be  left  of  all  that 
energy'  and  movement  but  a  few  gases,  a  little  dust  and 
water,  we  ask  ourselves  in  a  wonder  which  for  the  moment 
kills  our  grief.  Where  is  it  ?  Is  this  thing,  so  chill,  so 
irresponsive  to  my  passion  of  grief  and  love,  the  man  I 
knew,  or  is  he  far  away  living  a  new  life  ?  If  so,  what  is 
that  life ;  can  I  in  any  way  make  it  mine  ? 

And  the  answer  is,  x^o  !     But  it  is  accompanied  with 


286  The  Ascension, 

a  passionate  curiosity  to  discover  tlie  secret,  to  grasp  in 
thought,  even  in  the  slightest  way,  the  outline  of  the 
other  life.  We  paint  heaven  out  of  the  colours  of  our 
existence  here  on  earth,  only  adding  to  them  brilliancy ; 
we  realize,  or  fancy  we  realize,  in  imagination  the  perfect 
life,  but  each  man  makes  his  own  heaven  to  suit  his  own 
temperament,  and  we  know,  deep  down,  by  a  conscious- 
ness which  we  repress,  that  we  know  nothing  at  all,  that 
we  are  all  wrong,  that  we  cannot,  as  defective,  conceive  an 
indefective  life. 

And  yet,  day  by  day,  we  still  go  on  painting  that 
which  we  know  we  cannot  paint,  weaving,  in  the  clash  of 
contradiction  between  our  effort  and  the  conviction  of  our 
ignorance,  a  subtle  torture  for  our  souls. 

What  is  it  ?  Is  it  turning  a  corner  and  going  on  where 
we  left  off  on  earth  ? — is  it  another  seventy  years  in 
another  world,  another  weary  spell  of  slow  education ;  or 
is  it  sudden  development,  like  a  flower  which,  transplanted 
to  a  kindlier  clime,  blossoms  in  a  night  ? 

Behold,  we  know  not  anything.  'It  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear,' said  the  Apostle,  '  what  we  shall  be  ; '  but  he  did 
not  leave  the  question  there — we  do  not  know;  we  do 
*  know  that  when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him, 
for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is.'  Yes,  that  is  the  true 
answer.  '  We  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as 
He  is.'  We  can  afford  to  let  all  other  questions  go,  '  all 
subtle  thought,  all  curious  fears,'  and  rest  only  on  the 
bosom  of  this  truth,  clear  at  least  if  nothing  else  be  clear, 
that  if  we  have  been  growing  into  Christ  here  we  shall  be 
made  like  Him  there,  for  we  shall  see  Him — Truth, 
Purity,  and  Love — as  He  is. 


The  A  sccnsion .  287 

Most  true  and  glorious  for  the  saintly  warriors  of  good- 
ness ;  but  for  some  of  us,  who  are  conscious  that  we  want 
so  much  to  make  us  capable  of  seeing  Him,  it  is  a  thought 
dashed  with  despondency,  especially  in  hours  when  intel- 
lect is  strongest  and  faith  is  weakest. 

The  slow,  slow  work  of  God,  there  is  something  in  it 
terrible  to  flesh  and  blood.  We  ask,  bitterly  enough, 
*  Must  there  yet  come  years  and  years  of  education,  and 
we  so  weary  already  ?  ^ 

Weakness  of  heart,  and  the  desire  which  outflies  the 
labour  necessary  for  the  right  reception  of  the  perfect 
good,  incline  us  to  believe  that  swift  development  fol- 
lows upon  death.  Yet  the  belief  is  contrar}^  to  all  that 
we  know  here  of  the  manner  of  God's  working.  If 
we  leave  this  world  unfinished,  untrained,  there  seems 
nothing  for  it  but  much  patient  toil  for  us  on  the  part 
of  God,  and  slow  development  on  ours.  And  it  is  an  over- 
whelming thought  to  have  to  go  on  so  long — to  live,  and 
live,  and  live,  and  have  no  rest  from  toil  and  struggle, 
no  sleep  in  the  grave  to  refresh  us.  Infinity  !  It  is  a 
dreadful  thought  for  weakness  of  will  to  bear ;  and  it 
comes  upon  us  sometimes  with  a  weight  heavy  as  frost 
upon  the  polar  sea.  Perhaps  the  greatest  trial  we  have 
to  suffer  sometimes  in  the  hours  when  our  nervelessness 
is  upon  us,  is  to  consent  to  bear  the  burden  of  our 
immortality.  I  can  conceive  that  at  certain  times,  and 
to  certain  temperaments,  the  thought  of  annihilation 
mi2:ht  be  a  real  comfort.  But  the  Christian  world 
cannot  endure  it  long.  Hamlet  plays  with  it,  but 
cannot  keep  it.  Either  the  dread  of  something  after 
death  ;  the  chance  of  dreams  in  the  sleep  ;  or  the  nobler 


288  The  Ascension. 

feeling,  ttie  desire  for  '  more  life  and  fuller/  intervene, 
and  we  accept  our  immortal  life  witli  all  its  possible 
suffering  rather  than  cease  to  be. 

There  is  but  one  harbour  of  refuge  from  the  stormy- 
sea  of  these  thoughts.  It  is  belief  in  the  fatherhood  of 
God  as  revealed  by  Christ.  Fatherhood  implies  educa- 
tion, and  we  can  bear  long  years  of  struggle  when  we 
are  simultaneously  conscious  of  development  and  pro- 
duction. It  is  only  unproductive  struggle  which  wears 
out  the  will  and  consumes  the  heart,  and  God,  if  I  may 
be  permitted*  to  use  a  homely  metaphor,  never  admits 
crank-labour  into  His  educating  process.  Nothing  is 
wasted  of  all  that  He  imposes  or  will  impose  on  us. 
The  end  is  always  in  view.  Justice  and  love  are 
training  us,  and  all  the  secret  of  freedom  from  the 
torment  of  speculation  on  the  future  lies  in  faith  in 
that  truth.  Again,  Christ  Himself  had  no  uncertainty 
about  the  future.  He  was  going  to  a  Father.  He  is 
astonished  at  His  disciples'  sorrow  for  His  departure, 
*  If  ye  loved  me  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  said  I  go  to 
my  Father.'  He  evidently  believed  that  He  had  the  secret 
of  life,  that  He  had  solved  its  mystery,  mystery  of  the 
future  as  well  as  of  the  present.  After  an  existence  which 
penetrated  to  the  very  depths  of  sorrow.  He  made  death 
into  life,  and  in  our  nature  passed  from  earth  triumphant 
as  a  conqueror. 

If  you  would  answer  the  riddle  of  existence,  get  into 
union  with  the  spirit  of  this  Man.  '  Ascend  in  heart  and 
mind '  with  Him  into  the  higher  life,  and  try  if  that 
will  not  heal  the  pain  of  speculation.  Live  above  the 
world,  above   its    petty  maxims,  above    its   low  desires, 


The  Ascension.  289 

above  its  foolisli  sneer,  above  its  passion  for  tbe 
transient,  above  its  selfish  cry  of  *  Make  your  fortune/ 
For  we  shall  never  have  any  real  feeling  of  eternal  life 
till  we  have  entered  the  temple  of  self-sacrifice,  never 
any  true  conception  of  ever-growing  perfection  as  long 
as  we  embrace  the  mortal  as  our  only  good,  and  cling 
to  imperfection  as  our  only  hope.  'And  with  Him 
continually  dwell  ! '  Oh  !  to  be  able  to  do  that — to  live 
in  His  love,  to  breathe  the  air  of  His  purity,  to  see  and 
do  the  truth,  to  walk  in  justice,  to  make  mercy  the 
legitimate  child  of  justice,  to  do  nothing  of  ourselves, 
but  all  as  we  see  the  Father  do  ;  and  to  love  this  life 
in  a  Person  whom  we  see  moving  in  all  around  us,  and 
feel  moving  in  our  o-^ti  heart — this  is  the  blessed  life, 
indeed,  for  then  as  our  deathful  self  is  lost  in  love  of 
God,  so  our  true  being  is  found  in  union  with  the  self- 
giving  Being  of  God. 

It  is  then  that  faith  in  the  life  to  come  fills  the  heart, 
for  the  life  itself  has  already  begun  to  spring.  It  is 
then  that  speculation  never  brings  despondency,  for 
the  spirit  replies  with  conviction  to  the  intellect.  It  is 
then  that  we  can  approach  the  exquisite  dawnlight  in 
which  S.  Paul  and  S.  John  lived,  and,  as  our  tempera- 
ments urge  us,  say  with  the  aged  saint,  '  We  know  we 
shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is,'  or 
with  the  aged  warrior,  '  It  is  a  faithful  saying,  for  if  we 
be  dead  with  Him,  we  shall  also  live  with  Him ;  if  we 
suffer,  we  shall  also  reign  with  Him.' 


2 9 o  The  Festival  of  All  Saints, 


[November  1,  1868.] 

THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ALL  SAINTS. 

Eevelation  vii.  9. 

This  is  the  festival  of  All  Saints.  Its  origin  in  the  West- 
ern Church  is  curious,  partly  as  showing  the  way  in 
which  Pagan  conceptions  were  taken  up  into  Christianity, 
and  partly  as  proving  that  so  late  as  the  seventh  century 
the  Romish  See  was  still  transforming  the  remnants  of 
Paganism  into  Christian  forms.  It  was  in  the  year  608, 
when  Boniface  TV.  became  Pope,  that  he  begged  of  the 
Greek  emperor,  Phocas,  the  gift  of  the  Pantheon.  Having 
received  it,  he  dedicated  it  to  Mary  and  all  the  martyrs. 
The  dedication  suggested  the  festival,  and  ever  since,  on 
November  1,  the  day  on  which  it  is  said  that  the  Pantheon 
was  separated  to  Christianity,  this  festival  has  been  ob- 
served in  the  Western  Churches. 

But  though,  at  the  moment,  it  was  suggested  by  the 
idea  of  the  Pantheon  and  its  consecration,  similar  feast 
days  existed  already  in  both  the  Greek  and  Latin  Church. 
It  was  in  the  same  century  that  the  imagination  of 
men  being  greatly  stirred  by  an  outburst  of  interest 
in  the  Apocalypse,  visions  of  the  archangel  Michael  were 
continually  seen  by  excited  religious  persons.  Such  a 
vision  was  seen  at  a  particular  church  in  Pome,  and  with 
the   dedication   of  this   church    the  feast   of  S.   Michael 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints.  291 

and  all  Angels  is  connected.  The  origin  of  a  feast  may 
be  ignoble,  but  tbe  idea  connected  with  it  may  be  noble, 
and  the  idea  of  this  feast  is  of  such  a  character.  It 
celebrates  the  existence  of  the  Church  triumphant ;  it  is 
the  memorial  bond  which  unites  in  a  common  interest  and 
a  common  work — the  conquest  of  evil — the  angelic  host 
of  heaven  and  the  human  host  of  Christian  warriors  upon 
earth. 

The  festival  of  All  Saints  is  related  in  conception  to, 
yet  distinct  from,  the  festival  of  All  Angels,  For  while 
the  latter  speaks  of  angelic  victory,  the  former  speaks 
only  of  human  victory,  over  evil.  In  the  Greek  Church, 
in  which  it  was  first  introduced,  it  was  celebrated  as  an 
octave  to  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  representing  the  idea 
that  the  collective  force  of  all  the  saints  against  the  evil 
of  the  world  was  due  to  the  entrance  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
into  human  nature.  In  the  Western  Church  the  same 
thought  was  embodied,  but  the  meaning  seems  to  have 
taken  a  more  objective  form.  It  was  considered  to  be 
the  feast  of  the  glorification  of  buman  nature  by  Christ. 

Now  w^hat  is  it  which  glorifies  human  nature  ?  It  is 
expressed  in  the  name  of  this  festival.     It  is  saintliness. 

There  are  many  things  which  gild  the  career  of 
men  and  glorify  their  name.  There  is  the  glory  which 
comes  of  daring  courage  or  of  calm  endurance,  such 
glory  as  fell  to  the  French  who  charged,  and  to  the 
English  who  stood  still,  upon  the  field  of  Waterloo. 
There  is  the  glory  of  intellectual  power,  such  glory  as 
has  given  to  the  philosopher  emj^ire  over  the  growth  of 
human  thought,  to  the  scientific  man  empire  over  the 
world  of  nature.     There  is  the  glory  of  the  imagination, 

r  1 


292  The  Festival  of  All  Saints, 

sucli  glory  as  rests  on  the  memory  of  tlie  artists  who, 
penetrating  to  the  heart  of  things,  have  revealed,  not 
without  a  due  reserve,  the  spiritual  world  which  hides 
beneath  the  visible  its  own  mysterious  beauty.  There 
is  the  glory  of  sympathy  with  humanity,  such  glory  as 
falls  upon  those  poets  who,  by  expressing  not  only  what 
is  common  to  all  men,  but  also  that  which  is  subtle  and 
exquisite  in  particular  men,  have  made  life  a  hundred- 
fold more  interesting  by  their  creation  of  a  new  world 
of  men  ;  who  have  in  all  ages  made  men  known  to  them- 
selves, and  given  them,  in  so  doing,  aspiration  and  con- 
solation ;  who  have  presented  to  the  race  the  noble  ideals 
which  have  exalted  it. 

But  the  greatest  and  the  highest  glory,  the  glory 
which  is  not  confined  to  a  few,  but  in  the  power  of  all,  is 
the  glory  of  holiness.  There  are  many  associations  into 
which  to  enter  was  fame — companies  of  warriors,  socie- 
ties of  science,  bands  of  poets,  circles  of  statesmen,  or- 
ders of  honour — ^but  the  most  ancient,  the  most  memo- 
rable, and  the  most  continuous  —  continuous  even  for 
ever  and  ever — is  the  order  of  All  the  Saints. 

For  it  is  not  only  an  earthly  society ;  it  does  not 
belong  to  one  nation  alone ;  it  does  not  seek  its  mem- 
bers only  out  of  one  age  of  historj^  It  began  with 
the  beginning  of  the  race.  It  has  drawn  its  members 
out  of  every  nation  and  kindred  and  tongue.  It  is 
existent  in  the  world  beyond  the  grave. 

And  being  thas  partly  of  heaven  and  partly  of  earth, 
it  is  divided  into  two  parts  with  relation  to  its  distin- 
guishing glory — holiness.  For  those  who  belong  to  it 
in    heaven    have    attained    to    saintliness ;     those    who 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints.  293 

belong  to  it  on  earth  are  still  contending  towards  saiutli- 
ness.  Their  end  is  then  the  same,  and  in  this  unity  of  end, 
the  company  above  and  the  company  below  are  bound 
together  into  one.  Theirs  also  is  one  Master,  and  they 
both  live — the  one  in  satisfied  attainment,  the  other  in 
aspiring  effort — by  love  of  His  character  and  faith  in  His 
presence.  Thus,  though  divided  in  degree  and  place, 
they  are  one  in  spirit. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  this  idea  —  an  innumerable 
multitude  of  diverse  human  spirits,  of  whom  part  are 
living  in  perfect  glory  of  holiness  in  heaven,  and  part 
in  imperfect  glory  of  holiness  on  earth,  bound  together 
into  one  united  polity  by  common  love,  common  worship, 
and  common  dependence  on  the  power  of  one  King.  This, 
in  itself,  is  a  sufficiently  magnificent  conception.  But 
there  is  a  further  development  of  it.  What  is  the  con- 
stant, ceaseless  work  of  this  society  ?  It  is  the  overthrow 
of  evil. 

Is  that  work  ever  to  cease  ?  '■  Yes,'  answer  some  ;  *  it 
■will  cease  when  all  the  redeemed  are  gathered  in,  when 
the  number  of  the  elect  is  complete.'  And  where  are  the 
rest,  we  ask,  the  millions  who  have  not  reached  your  elect 
standard  ?  *  They  are  in  hell  for  ever '  is  the  repty^ 
*  deepening  in  evil :  baffled  revenge  and  hate,  consuming 
and  ruinous  despair,  growing  darker  and  fiercer  against 
God  the  good,  from  day  to  day  of  everlasting  punishment.' 

Is  that  the  cessation  of  God's  work  ?  Is  that  the 
result  of  the  magnificent  work  of  Christ  ?  Is  that  the 
lame  and  impotent  conclusion  of  the  organization  of 
the  great  society  of  the  Church  of  Christ  ?  Is  that  the 
end  of  the  war  against  evil  .^     Then  I  can  only  say  that 


294  The  Festival  of  All  Saints, 

it  seems  no  triumpli  at  all  to  me,  but  ignominious  defeat. 
Then  good  is  not  omnipotent,  for  it  is  impotent  to  root 
out  evil.  Then  love  is  not  lord  of  all,  for  it  cannot  con- 
quer hatred.  Then,  indeed,  we  are  not  Christians  who 
believe  in  perfect  Good,  but  Manichseans,  who  believe  in 
two  rulers  who  divide  between  them  a  universe  in  which 
the  evil  ruler  is  with  difficulty  kept  down  by  the  power 
of  the  good  ruler. 

Where  is  the  life,  the  hap^Diness,  the  impulse  in  such 
a  dreadful  faith  ?  What  comfort  is  it  to  me  that  I  am 
saved  if  half  the  world  is  lost?  What  blessedness  have 
I  in  heaven  if  my  brethren  are  for  ever  doomed  to  hell  ? 
It  is  no  heaven  to  me.  I  have  no  union  of  spirit  with 
its  God.  I  feel  as  the  old  Frank  warrior  felt  when  he 
came  to  baptism.  *  Where  are  my  ancestors  ?  '  'In  hell 
for  ever,'  said  the  priest.  •  *  Then  I  prefer  to  join  them.' 
His  answer  has  been  recorded  as  an  imjjiety  ;  but  for  all 
that,  men  have  sympathized  with  it  and  felt,  as  we  feel 
now,  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  was  more  in  the  rude  soldier 
than  in  the  priest  who  stood  beside  him.  For  what  did 
he  say  more  than  S.  Paul  ? — *  I  could  wish  that  myself 
were  accursed  from  Christy  for  my  brethren,  my  kinsmen 
according  to  the  flesh.' 

Others  answer.  The  battle  against  evil  will  cease  when 
all  the  redeemed  are  gathered  in  and  all  the  wicked 
annihilated.  God  will  not  punish  evil  men  for  ever,  He 
will  destroy  them.  Thousands  of  souls  which  have  not 
reached  the  end  of  their  existence  shall  be  utterly  blotted 
out,  and  God  and  good  be  all  in  all.  They  point  to  the 
analogy  of  nature,  that  out  of  fifty  seeds  it  scarcely 
brings  one  to  bear.     But  they  forget  that  for  the  use  of 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints.  295 

an  analogy  there  must  be  some  resemblance  of  rela- 
tions between  the  things  compared ;  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  what  real  analogy  there  is  between  a  seed 
and  a  soul.  They  forget  also  the  torture  to  a  human  soul 
which  comes  Avith  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  anni- 
hilation. The}^  forget  the  ineradicable  sense  of  immor- 
tality, of  continued  individuality,  which  clings  to  the 
heart  of  the  basest  and  wickedest  of  the  race.  There  is 
that  within  us — and  it  is  one  of  those  intuitions  which, 
though  they  prove  little,  no  wise  man  thinks  meaning- 
less if  he  believes  in  a  God  who  has  given  ideas  to  the 
soul  —  there  is  that  within  us  which  prefers  even  the 
thought  of  torture  to  that  of  cessation  of  being.  They 
foro-et  that  God  is  dishonoured  when  He  confesses  Him- 
self  incapable  of  redeeming  the  souls  of  men  whose  Father 
He  has  proclaimed  Himself  to  be.  In  assuming  father- 
hood. He  has  assumed  the  duties  of  a  father ;  and  to 
destroy  children  because  He  can  do  nothing  with  them, 
to  give  up  hope  for  them,  is  an  idea  I  cannot  connect  with 
the  Almighty  Being  who  revea,led  Himself  in  Jesus  Christ. 
If  one  soul  perishes  for  ever,  it  is  failure — evil  has  won 
the  day. 

This  is  not  the  true  view  of  the  cessation  of  evil.  This 
is  not  the  way  in  which  the  festival  of  All  Saints  shall 
fiqally  be  kept. 

The  war  against  evil  which  the  Head  of  the  Church  and 
all  the  army  of  the  saints  are  waging  now  will  end,  not 
when  the  victims  of  evil  are  damned  or  destroyed,  but 
when  the  evil  itself  in  them  is  consumed.  In  every  soul 
of  man,  by  the  giving  of  joy  or  the  giving  of  suffering,  b}^ 
a  thousand  meaiis,  each  fitted  to  a  thousand  characters, 


296  The  Festival  of  All  Saints, 

God  will  do  His  conquering  work.  Those  who  have 
already  won  the  crown  of  saintliness  are  fellow-labourers 
with  Him  in  the  work  of  redemptive  warfare.  The  power 
and  the  life  of  Christ  are  not  only  powerful  and  living 
upon  earth — He  is  redeeming  all  in  the  other  world.  He 
continues  to  redeem. 

For  what  has  God  done  ?  He  has  conceived  of  the 
race  as  of  one  man,  and  He  has  incarnated  that  idea  in 
Jesus  Christ,  the  sinless  image  of  humanity.  That  sin- 
less image  He  will  fulfil  in  the  race  whom  the  Saviour 
represented.  All  humanity  shall  be  saintly,  shall  be 
Christ's,  shall  be  God's,  for  Christ  is  God's.  Then  shall 
war  be  finished ;  then  shall  goodness  be  known  to  be 
that  which  it  is  always,  triumphant ;  then  shall  man 
know  that  his  experience  of  evil  was  but  a  shadow  cast 
by  goodness  in  the  imperfect  mirror  of  humanity  ;  then 
a  willino:  host  shall  bow  the  knee  to  God  and  thank  Him 
for  the  sufi'ering  and  the  wrong  which  led  them  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  life  of  self-surrender  ;  then  the  holy 
Catholic  Church,  the  Communion  of  saints,  shall  be  per- 
fect ;  then  this  festival  of  All  Saints  shall  be  kept  by  all 
the  spirits  who  have  ever  taken  life  from  the  life  of  the 
heavenly  Father. 

This  is  the  loftiest  idea  we  can  form  of  the  completion 
of  that  everlasting  society,  the  Church  of  Christ. 

And  now,  having  gained  these  conceptions  of  this 
grand  society  existing  since  the  world  began,  destined 
to  exist  for  ever,  existing  partly  in  peaceful  work  in 
heaven,  partly  in  warfare  and  pain  on  earth  ;  of  which 
some  on  earth  are  members  now  in  fact,  of  which  all  on 
earth    are    members    now    by  right,  of   which    all  shall 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints.  297 

finall}^  be  saintly  members ;  wbicb  possesses  as  its  bead 
and  spirit  tbe  all -complete  and  boly  bumanity  of  Cbrist ; 
we  possess  an  idea  to  place  opposite  to  tbat  of  tbe 
Frencb  pbilosopber,  an  idea  wbicb  contains  all  tbe  good 
wbicb  bis  contains,  and  wbicb  if  I  leave  aside  a  bun- 
dred  otber  tendernesses  and  beauties  and  bumanities, 
in  wbicb  bis  conception  is  deficient,  speaks  not  as 
bis  does,  only  to  tbe  pbilosopber,  but  in  comfort  and 
ennobling  tbougbt  to  tbe  poorest  and  tbe  most  ignorant, 
and  passes  on — not  to  say  as  be  does  tbat  all  tbe  souls 
of  men  perisb  like  tbe  leaves  wbicb  bave  fallen  from 
tbe  trees  tbis  year,  and  bave  no  comfort  save  tbe  comfort 
of  tbe  leaves,  tbat  tbey  form  tbe  soil  for  future  forests — 
but  to  say  tbat  none  are  lost,  tbat  all  are  gained,  tbat  all 
are  developed,  tbat  not  one  subtle  sbred  of  cbaracter 
exists  in  any  man  wbicb  does  not  reacb  its  end  and  bave 
its  use  in  tbe  universe  ;  tbat  tbe  ideal  man  is  indeed  no 
dream,  but  fulfilled  in  a  nobler  manner  tban  tbe  pbilo- 
sopber living  apart  from  common  life  was  capable  of  con- 
ceiving ;  fulfilled  in  tbe  accomplisbed  perfection  of  tbe 
wbole  race,  witbout  tbe  loss  of  a  single  individual  of  tbe 
race.  '  For  we  sball  all  come,  in  tbe  unity  of  tbe  faitb 
and  of  tbe  knowledge  of  tbe  Son  of  God,  nnto  tbe  perfect 
(tbe  full-grown)  Man/ 

He  wbo  bas  grasped  tbis  overwbelming  tbougbt,  too 
great  for  tbe  intellect,  not  too  great  for  tbe  soul,  bas 
entered  into  a  new  life.  His  view  of  bistory  is  cbauged. 
He  possesses  a  secret  wbicb  resolves  it  into  unity.  His 
view  of  national  relations  takes  a  wider  and  firnrer 
basis  tban  tbat  given  by  politicians.  His  view  of  in- 
ferior  races   cannot  be   tbat  too    generally  beld.      Tbey 


298  The  Festival  of  All  Sain  Is. 

perisli  before  our  encroacliing  marcli,  but;  lost  on  eartb, 
tbeir  education  is  continued  in  another  world.  His  view 
of  bis  fellow-men  becomes  large,  generous,  and  tolerant. 
He  cannot  despair  even  of  the  worst  and  vilest.  Tbey 
are  members  of  bis  society — evil,  but  being  redeemed. 
Let  bim  see  one  spark  of  goodness  in  the  darkness  of 
tbeir  life,  and  be  cries,  '  Ab  !  tbere  is  God.  I  see  tbe  spirit 
of  Christ  at  work ;  let  me  sbow  tbe  Saviour  wbo  is  with 
bim  to  tbis  miserable  man.'  And  if  bis  efforts  are  in  vain 
be  does  not  despair  ;  no,  be  knows  tbat  God  cannot  fail ; 
be  says  to  bimself,  *  I  sball  not  lose  my  brother,  be  too 
will  be  one  of  the  assembly  of  the  saints. "*  It  is  wonderful 
bow  life  grows  great  in  tbe  illimitable  atmosphere  and 
landscape  of  tbis  thought ;  bow  invigorating  becomes  the 
air  of  action ;  how  deep  our  sympathy  with,  and  yet  how 
easy  is  our  consolation  for,  all  tbe  misery  and  horrors 
with  which  we  are  encompassed  ;  how  time  and  its  weari- 
ness, and  space  and  its  overwhelmingness,  vanish  away, 
and  our  life  is  lived  in  the  eternal  world,  watching  with 
faithful  and  enkindled  eyes  the  mighty  purposes  of  God 
moving  onward  like  a  sunlit  river,  whose  banks  are  love 
and  justice,  to  tbeir  fulfilment  in  the  assimilation  of  all 
spirits  to  Himself. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  grasp  some  of  tbe  principles  of  the 
life  of  this  great  society,  and  apply  them  to  the  minor  so- 
ciety of  the  English  nation.  They  will  give  us,  especially 
at  this  time,  when  the  relations  of  classes  to  one  another 
in  this  country  have  begun  to  slowly  alter  under  a  new 
impulse,  a  few  great  lines  of  feeling  and  action  by  which 
to  direct  our  lives. 

First.     In  the  Church  of  Christ,  each  true  member  is 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints.  299 

an  entliuslast  in  his  work.  His  heart  glows ;  his  tongue 
cannot  be  basely  silent,  though  often  wisely  silent.  He 
feels  inspired  by  the  Spirit  of  God  within  him.  He 
would  rather  die  than  be  false  to  Christ.  The  thought  of 
the  battle  against  evil  is  never  absent  from  his  soul  or 
from  his  active  life.  He  sees  in  every  business,  in  every 
office  which  he  holds,  in  every  position  he  sustains — as 
master  or  servant,  as  employer  or  workman — a  field  in 
which  he  may  push  forward,  with  Christ  as  his  Friend, 
the  interest  and  the  progress  of  the  accumulating  Church 
of  Christ. 

Ought  not  that  to  be  the  feeling  of  the  citizen 
towards  the  nation? — enthusiasm,  not  untaught  and 
rude,  but  cultured  by  thought  on  great  questions,  and 
tempered  by  the  experience  of  the  past ;  enthusiasm 
so  chastened  by  truthful  love  of  country,  that  it  can 
never  degrade  the  man  into  a  slave  or  a  hireling  of 
party;  enthusiasm  which  will  not  permit  the  citizen  to 
do,  himself,  one  thing  unworthy  of  the  honourable  past  of 
England. 

And  this  will  free  us  from  the  political  indifference 
which  still  belongs  to  many  citizens.  We  shall  have 
interest,  not  excitable  and  therefore  fleeting,  but  deep  and 
resolute,  in  all  the  important  questions  which  the  nation 
is  now  prepared  to  solve.  AVe  shall  have  a  shame  which 
will  make  the  apathy  of  leisure  or  the  retirement  of 
comfort  intolerable  ;  we  shall  feel  this  so  deeply  for  others, 
that  it  will  lead  us  to  bring  to  bear  on  those  to  whom  we 
have  given  the  franchise,  but  who  have  no  political  edu- 
cation, such  a  training  as  will  awake  them  to  the  same 
sense  of  responsibility,  and  stir  in  them  the  same  culti- 


3  o  o  The  Festival  of  All  Saints. 

vated  interest  in  the  country  as,  I  trust,  we  ourselves 
possess. 

He  who  feels  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Church  of  Christ 
ought  above  all  men  to  be  freed  himself,  and  to  free  others, 
from  political  apathy. 

Again.  Both  the  Church  of  Christ  and  the  English 
nation  have  a  glorious  past.  The  Christian  and  the 
Englishman  are  both  the  children  of  heroes.  The  free- 
dom of  both,  in  their  several  spheres,  has  been  of  that 
slow  and  dignified  growth,  and  is  of  that  firm,  rooted 
character,  which  creates  the  reverence  that  makes  love 
lasting.  When  the  Christian  is  tempted  to  sin,  when  the 
Englishman  is  tempted  to  injure  his  country,  both  look 
round  on  the  images  of  their  spiritual  ancestors  and  are 
shamed  into  penitence.  *  Seeing,'  we  who  belong  to  the 
communion  of  saints,  '  that  we  are  compassed  about  with 
so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,'  we  run  with  patience  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us.  And  we  who  belong  to  the 
communion  of  the  great  English  people,  seeing  we  too  are 
compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  noble  English 
witnesses,  by  whom  the  freedom  we  enjoy  has  been  estab- 
lished, we  also  ought  to  run  with  patience  (and  the  more 
liberal  we  are,  the  more  we  need  a  wise  patience)  in 
the  path  of  national  dut}^,  looking  indeed — and  here  the 
analogy  melts  into  coincidence  —  looking  to  the  true 
King  of  the  nation,  Christ,  the  Author  of  just  laws,  the 
Life,  the   Completer  of  the  perfect  State. 

Again.  In  the  vast  society  of  which  I  speak  each  man 
lives  for  his  brother,  not  for  himself:  he  is  freed  from 
the  weight  of  personal  interests,  he  is  freed  from  the 
burden   of  local  selfishness,  of  class  selfishness.     He  is 


The  Festival  of  All  Saints,  301 

above  professional  jealousies,  above  caste  prejudices.  For 
rich  and  poor  meet  togetber  equal  before  God,  peer  and 
peasant  kneel  at  tbe  same  table ;  those  who  do  not 
understand  each  other's  lives,  and  whose  interests  are 
opposed  or  different,  worship  in  the  same  house  and 
honour  the  same  Master  with  a  single  voice.  Men  are 
united  by  common  love  to  Christ. 

I  need  not  apply  the  analogy.  I  only  ask  that  you 
should  recognize  as  Englishmen  the  same  principle. 
Do  not  permit  class  interests,  local  selfishness,  the  clash- 
ing elements  of  labour  and  capital,  of  aristocracy  and 
democracy,  of  literar}^  culture  and  middle- class  Philistin- 
ism, to  invalidate  union  for  national  welfare,  to  destroy 
that  mutual  tolerance  of  prejudices  and  position  which 
may  enable  you  and  all  to  make  of  England  one  united 
body.  For  as  the  unity  of  the  communion  of  saints  is 
made  by  the  pervading  action  of  one  spirit  of  love  to 
Christ  which  ever,  as  it  deepens,  consumes  the  rancour 
of  sects  and  the  hatred  of  theology ;  so  the  unity  of  the 
English  people  will  arise  from  the  growth  of  a  sacred 
love  to  the  idea  of  the  nation,  which  ever  as  it  spreads 
and  deepens  will  destroy,  not  different  opinions,  which 
are  necessary,  but  the  malice,  impotence,  and  corrup- 
tion of  the  party  spirit  which  at  once  weakens  and 
divides  the  nation.  Social  selfishness  and  party  enmity 
will'  die. 

Finally,  there  is  one  last  lesson  which  the  Christian 
Church  teaches  us.  It  denies  not  only  local  but  also 
national  selfishness.  In  it  all  national  prejudices  are 
broken  down.  S.  Paul,  the  noblest  example  of  the  force 
of  this  principle,  trampled  under  foot  the  Jewish  exclu- 


302  The  Festival  of  All  Saints. 

siveness,  and  became  as  tlie  subject  of  Christ  tbe  citizen 
of  the  world.  To  bim  there  was  neither  Jew  nor  Greek, 
Homan  nor  barbarian,  Christ  was  all  and  in  all.  Hu- 
manity in  the  Man  Christ  Jesus — that  was  his  nation. 

The  time  has  come  in  this  age  to  carry  out  the  same 
principle  in  the  wide  politics  of  the  world.  The  time 
has  come  to  regulate  our  relations  with  other  nations  by 
the  words — which  I  for  the  moment  make  particular — 
Do  unto  other  nations  as  ye  would  they  should  do  unto 
you.  The  time  has  come  when  we  should  begin  the 
attempt  to  sacrifice,  when  it  seems  just,  English  interests 
for  the  sake  of  the  interests  of  the  world.  The  time 
has  come  when  it  seems  almost  ridiculous  to  isolate 
ourselves  and  to  talk  of  ourselves  as  the  noblest  and 
greatest  nation  in  the  world ;  ridiculous  to  ignore  and 
to  oppose  the  influences  of  other  nations  upon  ourselves 
and  on  the  race.  The  time  has  come  when  interna- 
tional self-sacrifice  should  replace  international  selfish- 
ness, and  to  us  there  should  be  neither  Englishman  nor 
Frenchman,  German  nor  American,  but  the  human  race 
above  all. 

Then  will  political  life  be  identical  with  Christian  life, 
and  love  be  all  in  all.  *  But  this  is  Utopia  ! '  you  exclaim. 
Yes,  but  what  would  life  be  without  its  ideals  ?  It  is  only 
ideals  which  kindle  continued  action.  What  would  this 
world  be  without  our  natural  optimism?  It  would  be 
a  landscape  without  colour,  uncheered  by  the  beauty 
which,  in  creating  hope,  creates  activity.  True,  we  may 
never  here  on  earth  make  the  world  and  the  Church 
coincident,  never  here  celebrate  the  feast  of  All  Saints ; 
yet  it  has  been  the  dream  of  all  national  inspiration,  it  has 


The  Festival  of  A II  Saints.  3  03 

flowed  out  of  the  heart  of  every  people,  that  a  time  will 
come  at  last  when  humanity,  pervaded  by  the  spirit  of 
universal  charity,  shall  make  its  very  variousness  conduce 
to  unity,  when  there  shall  be  many  nations  but  one 
people,  when  the  communion  of  all  men  shall  be  the  com- 
munion of  saints,  and  God  at  last,  having  taken  all 
humanity  into  Himself,  fulfil,  in  its  last  and  highest  sense, 
the  fact  and  the  promise  of  the  Incarnation.  For — the 
touch  of  Christ  has  made  the  whole  world  kin. 


304  Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons. 


[September  29,  1867.] 

ANGELIC  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 

Hebrews  i.  1. 

The  feast  of  S.  Micbael  and  All  Angels,  which  falls  this 
year  upon  a  Sunday,  suggests  to  us  the  subject  of  angelic 
life.  It  is  a  subject  fraught  with  interest.  For  so  much 
eager  speculation  has  clustered  round  it  that  it  cannot  be 
devoid  of  some  attraction  to  intelligent  men  ;  so  much  art 
and  poetry  have  adorned  it,  so  much  religious  life  has 
mingled  with  it,  that  men  either  of  poetic  temperament 
or  of  spiritual  minds  can  scarcely  put  it  aside  with  in- 
difference. 

It  is  true  there  are  many  who  deny  the  existence  of 
any  spiritual  beings  save  God  and  man.  The  wide 
universe  is  to  them  a  solitary  land  without  inhabitants. 
There  is  but  one  oasis  filled  with  living  creatures.  It  is 
the  earth  on  which  we  move  ;  and  we  who  have  from  cen- 
tury to  century  crawled  from  birth  to  death,  and  fretted 
out  our  little  lives  upon  this  speck  of  star-dust  which 
sparkles  amid  a  million  million  others  upon  the  mighty 
plain  of  infinite  space,  we  are  the  only  living  spirits. 
There  is  something  pitiable  in  this  impertinence.  It  is  a 
drop  of  dew  in  the  lonely  cup  of  a  gentian,  which  ima- 
gines itself  to  be  all  the  wat-^r  in  the  universe.     It  is  the 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons.  305 

summer  midge  wWcli  has  never  left  its  forest  pool, 
dreaming  that  it  and  its  companions  are  the  only  living 
creatures  in  earth  or  air. 

There  is  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  other  beings  than 
ourselves,  but  there  is  also  no  proof  of  the  contrary. 
Apart  from  revelation,  we  can  think  about  the  subject 
as  we  please.  But  it  does  seem  incredible  that  we  alone 
should  represent  in  the  universe  the  image  of  God ;  and 
if  in  one  solitary  star  another  race  of  beings  dwell,  if  we 
concede  the  existence  of  a  single  spirit  other  than  our- 
selves, we  have  allowed  the  principle  ;  the  angelic  world 
of  which  the  Bible  speaks  is  possible  to  faith. 

But  we  have  fallen  upon  faithless  times  ;  and  worse  than 
the  mediaeval  who  saw  the  glint  of  the  angel's  wing  in 
the  dazzling  of  the  noonday  cloud,  worse  even  than  the 
Greek  who  peopled  his  woods  with  Deit}",  we  see  onl}"  in 
the  cloud  the  storehouse  of  rain  to  ripen  our  corn,  and 
in  the  woods  a  cover  for  our  pheasants.  Those  who  see 
more  have  small  cheerfulness  in  the  sight :  neither  the 
njTnphs  nor  the  angels  haunt  the  hills  to  us.  We  do 
not  hear  in  the  cool  of  the  day  the  voice  of  God  in  the 
trees  of  the  garden.  We  gaze  with  sorrow  on  a  world 
inanimate,  and  see  in  it  only  the  reflection  of  our  own 
unquiet  heart.  There  is  scarcely  an  unmixedly  joyous 
description  of  nature  in  our  modern  poets.  There  is 
scarcely  a  picture  of  our  great  landscape  artist  which  is 
not  tinged  with  the  passion  of  sorrow  or  the  passion  of 
death.  We  bring  to  bear  upon  the  world  of  nature, 
not  the  spiritual  eye,  but  a  disintegrating  and  petty 
criticism.  We  do  not  let  feeling  have  its  way,  but  talk 
of  harmonies   of  colour  and  proportion,  and  hunt    after 


3o6  Angelic  Life  a?id  its  Lessons, 

mere  surface-beauty.  "VYe  train  the  eye  and  not  tlie 
heart,  and  we  become  victims  of  a  sensualism  of  the  eye, 
which  renders  the  imagination  gross,  and  of  an  insatiability 
of  the  eye,  which,  unable  to  rest  and  contemplate,  com- 
prehends the  soul  of  nothing  which  we  see.  It  is  our 
sick  craving  for  excitement  —  the  superficiality  of  our 
worldly  life — which  we  transfer  to  our  relation  to  Nature. 
What  wonder  if  Nature  refuses  to  speak  to  us,  and  we 
ourselves  are  insensible  to  the  wisdom,  life,  and  spirit  of 
the  universe  ? 

'  The  world  is  too  much  with  us,'  and  God  too 
little.  We  cannot  see  the  life  which  moves  around  us 
through  the  dust  of  the  death  in  which  we  live.  He 
who  dwells  in  the  cabin  of  the  visible  cannot  see  the  in- 
finite world  of  the  invisible  through  the  clay-built  walls. 
Our  life  with  Nature  has  lost  its  beauty,  its  joy,  its 
religion. 

It  was  different  with  the  ancient  Jew,  and  with  the 
Apostles  and  their  followers.  They  lived  in  a  world 
peopled  with  spiritual  being-s.  They  believed  in  invi- 
sible assistants,  who  were  doing  God's  pleasure  and 
sympathizing  with  His  children.  The  hosts  of  heaven 
moved  in  myriads  in  the  sky.  The  messengers  of  God 
went  to  and  fro  working  His  righteous  will.  The  sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy  when  the  creation  leaped  to  light. 
In  every  work  of  nature,  in  the  summer  rain  and  the  win- 
ter frost,  in  the  lifting  of  the  billow  on  the  sea  and  the 
growth  of  the  flower  on  the  plain,  there  were  holy  ones 
concerned  who  sang  the  hymn  of  continued  creation  to  the 
Eternal  Love.  The  very  winds  themselves  were  angels, 
and  the  flaming  fires  ministers  of  God.     It  was  a  happier 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lesso?is.  307 

and  a  grander  world  to  live  in  then  than  now.  We  have 
more  knowledge,  yet  less  joy.  We  have  more  material 
power,  yet  less  noble  souls.  Which  of  our  poets  could  sing 
now,  out  of  a  full  heart,  the  hundred  and  fourth  Psalm  ? 

It  is  too  true  to  be  strange,  and  yet  what  an  insight 
does  it  give  into  the  modern  spirit  that  the  impulse 
of  praise  has  left  us.  Our  religious  utterances  are 
all  prayer.  We  want  something  for  ourselves,  or  for 
others.  We  cannot  get  out  of  ourselves  into  the  bright 
region  of  joy  where  praise  mounts  to  heaven's  gate  like 
the  morning  song  of  the  lark. 

For  this  one  day  at  least  let  us  step  backwards  into 
that  ancient  time,  and  try  to  find  out  the  principles 
which  underlie  the  hints  given  to  us  in  the  Bible  of 
angelic  life  in  connection  with  God  and  with  nature. 
The  principles  will  be  useful,  even  though  we  treat  the 
stories  as  symbolical. 

Take,  first,  the  relation  of  God  to  angelic  life. 

The  first  thing  we  understand  of  the  angels  is  that 
in  distant  eternities  God  created  them.  God  gave  of 
His  own  life  to  others,  and  filled  His  silence  with  living 
souls.  Here  we  have  the  principle  of  the  social  life  of 
God.  We  are  too  apt  to  picture  Him  as  dwelling  in 
solitary  magnificence,  like  some  Oriental  king,  unap- 
proachable, self-sufficing,  careless  of  the  social  life  so 
dear  to  us,  finding  no  pleasure  in  the  love  and  praise  of 
His  children. 

Long  before  man  arose,  the  creation  of  angels  denies 
this  imagination.  God  did  not  wish  to  live  alone.  He 
gave  Himself  to  others,  and  rejoiced  in  seeing  Himself 
reflected    even    partial!}'  b}"   others.       He   listened   with 

X  2 


308  Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons, 

pleasure  to  the  song  of  joy  whicli  filled  His  universe, 
and  received  and  gave  back  in  ceaseless  reciprocation 
tlie  oifered  love  of  the  spirits  He  had  made. 

And  in  that  thought  all  social  life  on  earth  should  be 
hallowed  by  being  made  like  to  that  of  God ;  we  should 
be  as  gods  and  angels  one  to  another,  interchanging 
ever  love  and  service.  Is  that — I  put  it  to  your  con- 
science— is  that  the  ideal  which  in  society  you  strive 
to  reach  ? 

Again.  The  angelic  creation  reveals  to  us  the  very 
principle  of  God's  proper  life.  He  would  not  have  a 
life  which  began  and  ended  in  Himself.  His  life  was 
life  in  others.  In  giving  of  His  life  He  lived.  That 
autarkia,  that  self-sufficingness,  which  thinkers  have 
bestowed  on  God,  was  not  His  perfect  thought  of 
being.  Life  did  not  consist  of  *  in  Himself  possessing 
His  own  desire.'  His  life  consisted  in  giving  of  Himself 
away,  and  finding  Himself  in  all  things.  I  do  not  say 
God  could  not,  but  He  would  not,  be  alone. 

And  this  is  the  deep  principle  of  all  being.  That 
which  isy  is  that  which  gives  itself  away.  That  which 
lives  is  that  which  lives  in  others.  God  would  be  dead 
were  He  to  live  for  Himself  alone,  were  He  to  cease  to 
give ;  and  we  are  dead  when  we  live  only  to  receive, 
when,  folding  the  cloak  of  self  around  us,  we  cease  to 
find  our  being  in  sacrifice  of  self. 

I  pass  on  to  the  relation  of  the  angelic  life  to  God. 

It  is  described  as  a  life  of  exalted  praise.  The 
angels  are  pictured  as  employed  in  ceaseless  adoration. 
In  the  vision  of  Isainh,  in  reciprocated  song,  they  cry  to 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons.  309 

one  another,  ^Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts.' 
In  the  ears  of  the  seer  of  Patmos  they  fall  before  the 
thi'one  and  worship,  sajang,  '  Amen.  Blessing  and  glory, 
and  wisdom,  and  thanksgiving,  and  honour,  and  power, 
and  might,  be  unto  our  Grod,  for  ever  and  ever.'  In  all 
Christian  art  they  have  been  the  embodiment  of  praise. 
In  early  painting,  when  art,  being  less  self-conscious, 
was  therefore  more  religious,  the  whole  background  of 
any  picture  which  represented  God  or  Christ  in  glory, 
is  formed  entirely  of  a  multitude  of  adoring  angels. 
JS^ow,  in  the  Bible  this  life  of  praise  is  represented  as 
born  of  a  deep  consciousness  of  the  holiness  of  God, 
and  the  child  of  this  consciousness  is  awe,  intense  in 
love  and  veneration.  The  seraphim  worshipped  not 
because  God  was  Almighty,  but  because  He  was  holy, 
holy,  holy.  Lord  God  Almighty ;  and  as  they  wor- 
shipped they  covered  their  faces  with  their  wings. 
Fui^ther,  as  this  praise  was  excited  by  the  holiness  of 
God,  so  it  was  the  mark  of  the  personal  holiness  of  the 
angels,  for  no  Kving  spirit  can  fix  itself  in  adoration  of 
the  Holiest  without  becoming  continually  more  like 
Him  whom  it  contemplates  and  loves. 

Here,  then,  we  have  a  revelation  of  the  life  of  heaven. 
Holiness  deepening  day  by  day ;  sacred  love  and  awe 
increasing  as  the  revelation  of  holiness  advances,  and 
the  expression  of  these  in  ceaseless  worship,  ceaseless 
praise.  And  the  worship  is  not  admiration  of  God's 
power,  but  love  of  God's  holiness  ;  and  the  praise  is  not 
singing  of  psalms  and  music  of  harps — these  are  but 
symbolical — it  is  the  psalm  of  a  life  of  loving  service, 
the  ofiering  of  a  whole  eternity  of  self-devoted  activity 


3  lo  Angelic  Life  mid  its  Lessons, 

to  God ;  it  is  the  music  of  a  soul  which,  at  harmony  with 
God's  life  of  sacrifice,  is  at  harmony  also  with  the  inner 
soul  of  the  universe. 

The  nearer,  brethren,  that  you  live  to  God  here,  the 
nearer  you  will  approaph  the  angelic  life.  Our  state  of 
imperfection  is  characterized  by  pra3^er,  the  state  of 
perfection  is  characterized  by  praise ;  and  it  is.  curious  to 
mark  in  the  history  of  some  of  the  noblest  of  God's 
saints,  how,  as  they  drew  near  the  close  of  life  and 
entered  more  into  communion  with  the  heavenly  exist- 
ence, prayer  seems  to  be  replaced  by  a  sacred  awe,  and 
a  deeper  knowledge  of  holiness  breaks  forth  into  con- 
tinual praise.  I  do  not  say  we  pray  too  much — God 
knows  we  pray  too  little — but  our  aspiration  should  pic- 
ture to  itself,  not  so  much  increased  power  of  petition, 
as  freedom  from  the  necessity  of  petition,  that  oneness 
with  Christ  and  the  Father  which  is  characterized  by 
the  words  of  Christ  Himself,  *  In  that  day  ye  shall  ask 
me  nothing.* 

So  far  for  angelic  life  in  connection  with  God.  We 
pass  on  to  consider,  as  it  is  described  in  the  Bible, 
angelic  life  in  connection  with  nature. 

The  Hebrew  religious  feeling  always  retained  some 
traces  of  its  connection  through  Abraham  with  Chaldaea. 
The  old  pastoral  faith  which  wiis  born  on  the  wide 
plains  of  the  East,  with  a  magnificent  arch  of  sky 
above,  in  which  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars  walked 
cloudless  with  what  seemed  the  stately  step  of  gods, 
was  always  breaking  through  the  pure  monotheism 
which  God  revealed  to  the  patriarchs.  Job  mentions, 
as   a   possible    temptation,   the   desire  to   kiss   his   hand 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons,  3 1 1 

to  tlie  shining  sun  ;  to  adore  tlie  moon  walking  in 
her  brightness.  Warnings  loud  and  deep  against 
the  star- worship  pervade  the  Old  Testament.  But 
though  the  old  worship  was  denounced  in  the  revel- 
ation to  the  Hebrews,  yet  part  of  the  idea  of  it  re- 
mained in  another  form.  The  host  of  heaven  were  all 
but  identified  with  the  angels.  The  morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy. 
The  fallen  angel  is  called  the  day-star.  God  is  said  to 
call  the  host  of  heaven  (an  indiscriminate  name  for 
stars  and  angels)  by  their  names,  and  to  lead  them 
forth  by  numbered  phalanxes.  In  His  sight  the  stars, 
considered  as  ruled  by  the  angels,  are  not  pure.  And 
not  only  the  ordering  of  the  stars,  but  all  manifestations 
of  the  forces  of  nature  were,  in  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews, 
directed  by  the  angels. 

Certain  masters  in  science  will  smile  at  all  this,  and 
ask  if  that  be  philosophj^  .^  and  I  answer,  No,  not  philo- 
sophy, but  something  higher — poetrj^ ;  and  as  such,  not 
disclosing  the  relations  of  phenomena,  but  revealing, 
through  symbolic  phrase,  a  principle.  It  matters  very 
little  whether  the  angels  be  the  directing  powers  of  the 
elements  and  their  combinations  or  not ;  but  it  does 
make  much  matter  to  us  as  spiritual  beings  with  what 
eyes  we  look  upon  the  universe — as  a  living  whole 
informed  and  supported  by  a  living  will,  or  as  dead 
matter  drifting  on  in  obedience  to  dead  laws.  The 
latter  view  leaves  us  lonelier  and  sadder  even  than  I 
have  described  our  state  at  the  beginning  of  this 
sermon,  for  it  leaves  us  hopeless.  The  former  makes 
arise  before  us  dim   possibilities  of    something    wonder- 


312  Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons, 

fully  glorious  beneath  the  mystery  of  nature.  If  it 
leaves  us  sorrowful,  yet  at  least  we  do  not  sorrow  as 
men  without  a  hope.  If  the  whole  creation  groaneth 
and  travaileth  in  pain  together,  it  is  not  to  do  so  for 
ever;  it  is  waiting  for  our  redemption.  Nay,  it  is 
redeemed,  or  rather,  it  never  needed  redemption.  It 
is  only  when  we  come  into  contact  wdth  it  that  it 
groans  and  travails ;  it  is  only  to  us  that  it  is  fallen ; 
it  is  only  to  us  that  it  awaits  redemption.  It  is  only 
to  our  weak  and  purblind  vision  that  its  struggles  seem 
to  be  struggles,  and  its  pain  pain.  Were  we  at  one 
with  the  spiritual  universe  of  which  it  is  to  us  the 
witness  and  the  form,  we  should  see  its  struggle  as  the 
easier  grandeur  of  endeavour,  and  its  agony  as  the 
ecstasy  *bf  love.  Beneath  the  poetry  of  these  descrip- 
tions of  angelic  life  in  connection  with  nature,  lies  the 
principle  that  the  living  and  the  spiritual  underlie 
the  dead  and  sensuous  things  which  only  appear  to  be. 
The  mechanical  universe  w^hich  we  behold  with  the 
eye  of  sense  is  not  the  actual  universe — the  actual 
universe  is  a  spiritual  life,  in  which  we  ought  to  live, 
and  in  union  with  which  consists  our  only  actual 
being. 

But  in  the  laws  and  processes  of  the  apparent  world  we 
can  discern  at  times  the  principles  of  the  actual  world  it 
represents.  "We  behold  in  the  equivalence  of  that  which 
we  call  force,  not  the  dreadful  circle  of  necessity  always 
returning  on  itself,  but  the  image  of  the  perfect  order  in 
which  God's  living  will  expresses  itself,  and  the  real  out- 
ward form  of  the  unchanging  identity  of  His  life  of 
love.      This  one   living    force  of  Love,   giving  of  itself 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons.  313 

to  all  things,  is  conditioned  into  different  powers  in 
the  different  forms  of  spiritual  life ;  and  stores  itself 
up  now  in  the  strife  and  self-control,  in  the  pain 
and  passion,  in  the  failure  and  the  loss,  in  the  shat- 
tered effort  and  the  unaccomplished  aspiration,  which  are 
the  forms  it  takes  in  union  with  our  weakness  and  our 
death. 

Under  these  forms  we  see  in  man  the  potential  force  of 
God,  which,  when  we  are  redeemed  from  death,  shall  be 
liberated  as  ecstasy,  joy,  righteousness,  self-rule,  self-sacri- 
fice, and  perfect  peace. 

These  are  the  actual  things  which  exist  within  the 
envelope  of  our  weakness  and  death.  They  are  also 
the  actual  things  which  exist  in  nature,  and  are  nature  ; 
but  we  see  them  only  through  the  glass  of  our  defective 
being,  and  we  see  them  all  awry.  The  involuntary 
sacrifice  of  nature,  for  instance,  suggests  to  us  sorrow. 
It  is  in  reality  the  joy  of  the  world.  The  death  of  things 
gives  us  a  sense  of  acute  pain.  It  is  in  reality  the  ex- 
pression of  the  world's  intensest  life.  The  true  world 
is  not  the  world  which  science  investigates,  nor  the 
world  which  we  see.  But  in  discovering  the  principles 
of  the  phenomenal  world,  science  points  unconsciously 
to  the  related  principles  of  the  actual  world,  and  in  the 
way  in  which  nature  suggests  to  us  pain  and  death  and 
failure,  we  learn  at  last  to  find  the  truth  that  the  pain 
and  death  and  failure  are  in  us,  and  that  these  thinsrs  are 
in  nature  itself,  joy  and  life  and  success.  So  do  we  grasp 
the  truth  of  these  old  Hebrew  sayings  of  the  angels — 
that  nature  in  essence,  or  rather,  in  that  a-ctual  world 
of  which  it  is  the  witness,  is  not  inanimate,  but  Living. 


314  Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons. 

Then  the  universe  becomes  clothed  in  a  more  glorious 
form.  '  The  dead  heavy  mass  whicli  did  but  block  up 
space  is  vanished,  and  in  its  place  there  flows  forward, 
with  the  music  of  eternal  waters,  a  stream  of  life  and 
power  and  action '  which  issues  from  the  source  of  all 
life — the  living  will  of  God.  Then  it  happens  that  to 
us  the  whole  course  of  nature,  and  each  separate  thing 
within  it,  give  up  to  us  the  secrets  they  half  conceal 
and  half  express.  They  speak  not  to  intellect  only  or  to 
feeling  only,  but  to  the  entirety  of  our  being.  It  is  not, 
then,  true  to  say  that  we  receive  but  what  we  give,  and 
that  in  our  life  alone  doth  nature  live.  That  locks  us  up 
again  in  our  self,  and  makes  the  universe  dead  again.  We 
rise,  on  the  contrary,  out  of  our  dead  self,  and  mingle,  a 
living  spirit,  with  the  living  spiritual  universe  ;  and  then, 
entering  that  region  of  pure  insight  at  the  gate  of  which 
science  scorns  to  knock,  and  would  knock  in  vain  unless 
hand  in  hand  with  faith,  we  see  in  all  the  things  which 
do  appear  the  actual  things  of  which  they  are  the  form. 
The  winds  do  then  indeed  become  His  messengers,  and 
the  devouring  flame  His  minister.  The  sun  and  stars 
and  quiet  sky  have  a  wondrous  story  of  solemn  order 
and  righteousness  for  our  heart.  The  trees  whisper 
and  the  lake  murmurs  at  their  feet  the  same  secret  of 
eternal  life.  There  is  in  river,  cloud,  and  mountain,  in 
wood  and  plain  and  light,  blending  in  their  harmonies 
of  colour  and  of  form  to  create  the  landscape,  a  music 
so  mystic  and  so  sweet  that,  though  the  ear  can  never 
hear  its  song,  the  spirit  thrills  beneath  its  beauty.  It 
is   the   inner   universe,    with    its    ten   thousand   voices, 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons.  315 

praising  God.  In  all  tlie  seeming  sorrow  and  passion  and 
tension  of  the  world  we  see  death  as  birth,  the  struoforle 
of  life  with  itself  to  assume  a  more  glorious  form  ;  and 
asking  ourselves  what  all  this  means  to  us,  of  what 
glorious  work  of  God  it  is  the  witness,  of  what  glorious 
hope  it  is  the  guarantee,  we  find  for  answer,  that  it  is  the 
love  of  God  working  out  the  redemption  of  the  world ; 
that  the  seeming  death  is  life,  the  seeming  pain  joy,  the 
seeming  loss  gain  ;  that  life  given  is  life  realized,  that 
life  in  others  is  alone  true  being.  All  God's  living 
spirits  are  doing  within  the  sphere  of  His  life  a  portion 
of  this  redeeming  work.  The  angels  do  it  perchance  as 
He  performs  it,  finding  a  perfect  joy  in  sacrifice  ;  we  are 
doing  it  in  agony,  finding  every  sacrifice  a  pain,  and 
yet  learning  through  the  very  pain  to  realize  the  sacrifice 
asjoj^;  giving  up  our  life  with  strong  crying  and  with 
tears,  but  strangely  discovering  that  we  have  been  led 
into  life :  till  at  last  the  secret  smites  upon  our  heart  in 
an  ineffable  lio^ht  which  transfio'ures  all  our  being-,  and 
looking  up  to  where,  upon  the  cross  of  Calvary,  all 
humanity  was  sacrificed  and  all  life  given  away  in 
infinite  love  that  the  life  of  the  world  might  be,  we 
know  at  last  in  Him  the  mystery  of  the  universe.  We 
see  the  very  Life  itself  in  the  love  which,  in  giving  His 
Son,  gave  Himself.  We  see  in  the  entire  sacrifice  of  the 
Son,  not  only  the  life  of  God,  but  that  life  as  redeeming 
power ;  and  in  broken-hearted  humility  and  joy  we  foil 
before  His  cross  and  pray.  Lord  God,  my  Saviour,  take 
me  up  into  Th}^  life  ;  let  me  die  with  Thee  into  true 
being,  let  me  feel  the  ecstasy  of  sacrifice,  the  rapture  of 


3 16  Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons. 

life  in  otliers.  Make  my  pain  and  sorrow  part  of  Thy 
redemptive  work,  till,  love  having  its  perfect  work  in  me, 
I  dwell  in  God  and  Grod  in  me. 

Then  will  praise  be  perfect,  for  in  us  love  will  be 
perfect ;  our  voices,  our  unconscious  aspiration,  our 
whole  life  shall  go  forth  in  song  to  God  as  the  river 
goes  forth  to  seek  the  ocean.  The  perfect  life  will  be  per- 
fect joy. 

In  all  Christian  ages  there  has  been  one  symbol  of 
this,  in  all  ages  in  one  way  the  human  heart  has  ex- 
pressed its  joy  and  worship — in  the  harmonies  of  music 
and  the  sweetness  of  song.  So  deep  is  this  feeling  of 
the  union  of  music  and  adoration,  that  in  all  the  growth 
of  natural  things  on  earth,  in  the  rising  of  the  tree,  the 
expanding  of  the  flower,  the  swelling  of  the  stream, 
and  the  beat  of  the  ocean  on  its  shores,  men  have  seemed 
to  hear  the  notes  of  a  perfect  music  unfolding  to  a  noble 
end. 

The  host  of  heaven  was  thought,  not  only  b}^  Jewish 
poets  but  by  Grecian  sages,  to  march  to  a  music  too  grand 
to  be  audible  to  us,  and  the  belief  of  the  mediaeval  waa 
embodied  in  these  words  : — 

There's  not  the  smallest  orh  which  thou  hehold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins. 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  while  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 

The  expression,  then,  of  the  angelic  life  is  fitly  said  to 
be  music.  Therefore  let  music  be  ever  honoured,  ever 
chaste.     Let  those  motions  of  the  sense  which  it  awakes 


Angelic  Life  and  its  Lessons.  3 1 7 

unite  tliemselves  to  the  deepest  passion  of  humanity — the 
passion  to  be  at  one  with  God — and  bear  us  upward  into 
union  with  the  mighty  oratorio  which  all  the  uniyerse 
sings,  in  the  action  and  joy  of  sacrifice,  to  the  ear  of 
Eternal  Love.* 

*  The  idea  which  lies  at  the  root  of  the  latter  half  of  this  sermon  I  have 
derived  from  a  book  which  has  been  of  great  value  to  me,  Life  in  Nature, 
by  James  Hinton.  As  I  am  honoured  by  his  friendship,  he  will  not  be  dis- 
pleased with  this  acknowledgment. 


3i8      Angelic  Life  in  connect io7i  with  Man, 


[October  6,  1867.] 

ANGELIC  LIFE  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  MAN. 

Hebrews  i.  14. 

In  speaking  last  Sunday  of  the  principles  underlying  tlie 
accounts  given  in  the  Bible  of  angelic  life,  we  considered 
it  in  connection  with  God  and  in  connection  with, 
nature.  It  remains  to  consider  angelic  life  in  connection 
with  man. 

Now  there  are  many  recorded  appearances  of  angels 
in  the  Old  Testament,  from  the  time  of  Abraham 
onwards  ;  some  in  visions,  and  others  apparently  inter- 
vening in  the  midst  of  daily  life,  such  as  the  angels 
who  came  to  visit  Lot  and  Abraham.  Those  appear- 
ances which  came  to  men  in  sleep  we  may  put  aside  as 
presenting  no  difficulty.  Persons  brought  up  in  the  be- 
lief in  angels  will  see  angels  in  dreams  and  hear  them 
speak.  Only  observe,  that  in  saying  this  we  do  not  deny 
the  reality  of  the  vision,  nor  the  fact  that  it  is  sometimes 
a  direct  communication  of  God  to  the  soul — the  very 
usage  of  the  word  vision  implying  the  unconscious 
belief  of  men  that  the  soul  sees  sometimes  in  sleep  or  in 
trance  into  things  pertaining  to  the  soul,  more  clearly 
than  it  could  see  in  the  waking  hours  of  the  man.  We 
only  deny  that  the  form  of  the  vision — a  being  with 
wings,  for   example — necessarily  answers  to  any  reality 


Angelic  Life  in  connection  with  Man.      319 

in  tlie  actual  world.  The  existence  of  other  spiritual 
beings  than  ourselves  seems  to  me  undeniable,  but  the 
appearance  which  any  of  those  spiritual  beings  have 
taken,  or  may  take,  to  a  man  in  vision  is  entirely 
dependent  on  the  ideas  in  which  he  has  been  educated. 
For  example,  a  dying  man  sees  a  crowd  of  adoring 
angels  round  his  bed,  and  hears  the  music  of  harps.  In 
that  vision,  which  has  again  and  again  occurred  in  this 
century,  and  which  is  just  as  real  as  the  vision  of  Jacob 
on  the  hill,  the  thing  which  is  actual  is,  that  God  is 
speaking  in  comfort  to  His  servant's  soul ;  but  the  form 
which  God's  communication  takes  is  entirely  conditioned 
by  the  paintings  which  the  man  has  seen,  and  by  the 
reading  of  the  Apocalypse.  This  view  is  supported  by 
the  Bible  itself  It  is  not  till  after  the  Israelites  had 
seen  the  winged  gods  and  animals  of  Egypt  that  the 
angels  are  represented  as  winged  creatures.  In  the 
more  archaic  parts  of  Genesis  the  angel  is  never  winged, 
but  appears  always  in  the  form  of  a  man.  Therefore  we 
come  to  this  conclusion  respecting  the  angelic  visions 
recorded  in  the  Bible — that  the  actual  thing  in  them  is 
that  God  speaks  to  men  in  visions,  and  that  the  merely 
phenomenal  thing  in  them  is  the  form  in  which  the  vision 
comes. 

But  we  have  to  account  for  the  other  angelic  appear- 
ances, those  in  which  angels  in  the  form  of  men  came 
openly  into  the  midst  of  waking  life,  talked,  for  example, 
and  ate  with  Abraham,  and  drove  Lot  out  of  Sodom. 
What  shall  we  say  of  these  ?  Why,  that  they  are 
poetical  or  mythical  representations  of  some  real 
occurrence,  or  of  some  spiritual  truth.     We  find  these 


320      Angelic  Life  in  connection  with  Man. 

stories  alwaj^s  in  tlie  shadowy  land  of  early  llistor3^  As 
tlie  world  grows  older,  and  we  learn  to  discredit  our 
senses  more  and  more  as  giving  us  actual  truth,  these 
stories  pass  out  of  credit^  so  far  as  they  claim  an  out- 
ward reality.  Angelic  beings  do  not  appear  now  to  our 
eyes,  and  yet  I  do  not  doubt  that  God  speaks  to  us  now 
as  much  as  He  did  to  Abraham,  and  saves  men  now 
from  ruin  as  He  saved  Lot,  And  the  Bible  itself  con- 
firms this  view.  As  we  pass  on  from  the  early  history 
of  the  Jewish  nation  to  the  later,  the  physical  appear- 
ance of  angels  is  succeeded  by  the  visionary  appearance 
of  angels,  the  conversation  at  the  tent-door  by  the 
visions  of  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel.  It  is  the  tendency  of 
men  in  early  times,  when  feeling  is  master  of  intellect,  to 
represent  spiritual  impressions  as  sensuous  impressions  ; 
indeed  they/6'e/  so  strongly  that  they  see,  and  it  is  with- 
out the  slightest  want  of  truth  that  a  patriarch  would 
say  that  he  heard  God's  voice  speaking  to  him  when  in 
fact  he  had  only  received  a  vivid  spiritual  impres- 
sion. The  whole  account  of  Abraham's  intercession 
with  the  Lord  is  probably  a  poetic  account  of  a  real 
spiritual  struggle  in  Abraham's  soul,  the  embodiment 
in  words  of  the  questions  and  replies  of  a  passionate 
prayer. 

The  first  princij^le,  then,  contained  in  the  stories  is  that 
God  speaks  directly  to  man. 

"We  look  upon  these  stories  as  isolated  and  praeter- 
natural.  In  this  way  we  take  all  the  comfort  and 
reality  out  of  the  Bible.  That  book  does  not  relate 
what  God  did  once  for  men,  but  what  God  is  always 
doing.     Cling  to  the  objective  reality  of   these  angelic 


Angelic  Life  in  connection  with  Man.      321 

appearances,  and  we  are  forced  to  admit  that  they  do  not 
occur  now,  and,  in  consequence,  that  God  is  farther  from 
us  than  He  was  from  Abraham ;  and  the  story,  instead 
of  giving  us  consolation,  administers  to  us  hopelessness. 
Cling  to  the  uniqueness  of  these  appearances,  and  what 
interest  have  they  for  us  ?  What  do  we  then  care,  why 
should  we  care,  for  what  happened  to  Abraham  when 
he  was  in  doubt,  or  to  Jacob  when  he  left  his  tent? 
Unless  we  feel  that  these  things  can  come  home  to  us 
and  occur  to  us  in  the  nineteenth  century,  they  have  no 
more  meaning  to  us  than  a  fairy  tale. 

But  putting  aside  the  phenomenal  in  the  stories  as 
either  mythical  or  seen  in  vision,  and  their  form  as  con- 
ditioned by  the  beliefs  of  the  time  in  which  they  are 
placed,  and  coming  to  the  real  truth  beneath  them,  we 
claim  them  as  representing  in  particular  instances  that 
which  God  is  always  doing.  All  these  examples  are 
of  universal  interpretation.  If  God  spoke  to  Abraham, 
then,  when  he  was  in  doubt,  and  vindicated  His  justice 
to  His  servant.  He  speaks  to  us  now  when  the  same 
terrible  thought  shakes  us  to  our  centre^  that  after  all, 
perhaps,  there  is  no  eternal  Eight.  We  have  but  to  go 
forth  humbly  into  the  evening  solitude  to  confer  w4th 
Him,  and  the  answer  comes  we  know  not  how.  A 
voice  speaks  in  our  inmost  soul.  It  is  He  who  spoke  to 
Abraliam. 

If  God  wrestled  with  Jacob  till  the  dawn,  at  that  dread 
crisis  of  his  life  when  the  old  worldly  crust  of  fourteen 
years  broke  up,  and  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  of  a 
human  soul  were  unsealed  that  a  new  world  of  beinir 
might    be    made   in   him;    He    wrestles   with    us    now, 

I  Y 


322      Angelic  Life  in  connection  with  Man. 

when  our  life  comes  to  its  Jabbok  in  tbe  midnight,  and 
the  path  divides  to  Heaven  or  to  hell. 

If  in  the  wilderness,  Hagar  in  the  hour  of  her  bitterest 
desolation  found  that  the  Omnipresent  was  beside  her  ; 
we  know  now  and  for  ever  that  wherever  a  mother 
bends  in  misery  over  her  dying  child,  there  is  then  with 
her  God's  never-failing  Love.  The  child  maj^die,  but  He 
is  there  waiting  to  take  it  to  His  fatherhood,  and  keep 
it  for  her  coming.  And  when  we  read  the  terrible 
tales  of  heroic  hearts  left  alone  to  die — those  two  of 
Franklin's  crew  found  on  the  borders  of  the  ice-bound 
bay  beside  the  shattered  boat,  the  New  Testament 
lying  between  them — that  hopeless  crowd  of  human 
hearts  on  the  deck  of  the  ship  '  London,'  sinking  slowly 
into  the  wild  waters,  without  a  chance — there  rises 
along  with  the  vision  of  the  unavailing  human  effort 
and  of  the  strong  agony  of  men,  the  vision  of  a  divine 
Presence,  who,  though  He  did  not  save  from  death, 
was  there,  never  to  leave  them  or  forsake  them  after 
death. 

These  are  the  truths  revealed  to  us  by  these  angelic 
stories  ;  not  that  God  is  far  away,  but  that  He  is  the 
Ever  Near.  No  angels  come  to  us !  no  celestial  voices 
speak  to  us  !  Oh  !  believe  it  not.  Every  deep  impression 
of  the  Tightness  of  an  action,  every  keen  conviction  of 
a  truth,  every  inward  cry  for  light  and  impulse  onwards, 
are  messengers,  voices  of  God.  Abraham,  feeling  these, 
would  have  said  at  once,  '  I  hear  the  voice  of  God ;  the 
Almighty  One  has  spoken  to  me.'  But  we — partly  blinded 
by  the  acrid  atmosphere  of  faithlessness  in  which  we  live, 
partly  led  astray  by  the  way  in  which  the  Bible  history 


Angelic  Life  in  con7iectio7i  with  Man.      323 

has  been  isolated  into  the  region  of  a  profitless  super- 
naturalism,  made  unique  and  not  representative — call 
these  things  conscientious  scruples,  intuitions,  impulses  ; 
words  meaningless  to  us,  and  the  only  province  of  which, 
when  they  are  connected  with  the  thought  of  a  God,  is  to 
obscure  the  truth  of  a  living  God. 

Brethren,  God  is  here,  around  us,  moving  about  our 
daily  life,  in  us,  stirring,  speaking,  acting  in  our  hearts. 
That  is  what  we  want  in  this  age,  the  conviction  of  a  loving 
Father,  in  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being ; 
without  whom  we  ourselves,  and  all  we  do  and  think,  are 
indeed  '  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of.'  But  when 
that  conviction  is  attained,  we  recognize  that  all  the  Old 
Testament  stories  are  written  for  our  admonition,  are  told 
for  us,  are  true  of  us. 

*  And  God  appeared  unto  Abraham,  and  said  :  I  am  the 
Almighty  God  ;  walk  thou  before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect.' 
Has  He  never  appeared  to  you  ?  When  you  stepped  from 
boyhood  into  youth,  and  sat  alone  in  your  rooms  the  first 
week  in  the  University,  looking  forward  in  a  moment  of 
seriousness  over  your  new  career,  realizing  its  temptations, 
or  inspired  by  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  to  create  and 
pursue  an  ideal — did  no  words  shape  themselves  in  your 
heart  like  those  which  the  patriarch  heard  when  he  began 
an  untrodden  path  in  a  new  land  ?  It  was  the  very  voice 
of  Abraham's  God. 

Or,  when  oppressed  with  the  multitudinous  passions 
and  thoughts  of  life,  sick  at  soul  of  the  vain  show  in 
which  you  walk,  angry  with  those  who  dare  to  hope  the 
best  for  the  race,  and  despairing,  when  to  your  eyes  the 
painted  crust  of  life  becomes  transparent,  and  you  see 


324      Afigelic  Life  m  connection  with  Man. 

the  unutterably  woful  and  wicked  stream  of  fire  which 
flows  beneath^  bearing  on  its  bosom  the  agony  of  men  and 
women  perishing — when  you  are  driven  like  Elijah  by  these 
thoughts  into  the  solitudes  of  nature,  and  hear,  when  the 
storm  and  earthquake  have  been  hushed  upon  some  moun- 
tain slope,  a  still  small  voice  within  your  soul  which 
whispers  hope  in  the  final  issue,  and  a  mystery  of  joy 
beneath  the  mystery  of  the  pain  of  life,  and  then  return  to 
work  and  existence,  calmed,  you  know  not  how,  and  with 
a  hope  for  which  you  could  give  no  reason — what  is  it 
which  has  done  that  work  upon  you  ?  It  is  not  a  mere 
efflux  from  the  heart  of  nature ;  it  is  God  Himself  repeat- 
ing to  you  the  experience  and  the  lesson  which  Elijah 
learnt  in  the  wild  solitudes  of  Horeb. 

O  brethren !  take  these  Old  Testament  stories  to  your 
hearts.  Realize  a  living  God,  who  penetrates  with  His 
presence  and  His  action  every  moment  of  your  being.  In 
whatever  light  we  view  these  accounts  of  angels,  this 
they  suggest  at  least.  There  is  not  a  struggle  of  your 
soul  which  is  not  known  to  Him,  not  a  crisis  in  your  life 
which  your  Father  does  not  hang  over  with  intensest 
eagerness,  waiting  for  the  fitting  moment  to  speak ; 
sometimes  smiting  you  down,  that  the  simoom  of  a  fiery 
temptation  may  pass  over  you  without  slaying  your  spirit- 
ual life :  sometimes  wrestling  with  your  stubborn  heart 
till  the  dawn  break  upon  the  horizon,  and  you  demand 
with  passionate  eagerness,  Who  art  Thou,  Thou  traveller 
unknown  ?  Tell  me,  at  last,  Thy  name,  for  now  I  know  I 
cannot  live  till  I  possess  Thee  as  my  possession :  some- 
times knocking  at  the  door,  loud  and  long,  till  at  last 
tho    souud    is    heard    above    the   din    of   the    world,    the 


Angelic  Life  in  connection  with  Man,      325 

applause  of  men,  and  the  clank  of  gold.  Oh  !  there  is  no 
moment,  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  reason  to  this  last  hour 
in  this  church,  in  which,  if  you  would  but  open  your 
eyes,  you  will  not  see  His  infinite  love  and  watchful 
righteousness  bending  over  you  to  upbraid  you  for  j^our 
neglect,  to  punish  you  for  your  guilt,  to  sorrow  for  your 
cowardice,  or  to  rejoice  at  your  courage  ;  to  give  you  the 
sympathy  of  strength,  and  the  life  which  is  born  of  self- 
devotion. 

And  if  this  be  true  of  our  individual,  so  it  is  also  true  of 
our  domestic,  social,  and  national  life.  When  the  angel 
came  to  Manoah's  altar,  the  truth  was  revealed  that 
God  takes  interest  in  each  man's  home ;  that  it  should 
be  pure  and  happy,  a  sacred  altar  of  love,  a  school 
for  sympathy  and  forbearance ;  a  centre  from  which 
an  impulse  for  wider  work  may  spring,  and  whence 
self-sacrifice  in  daily  trifles  may  swell  into  the  self- 
sacrifice  of  a  life  for  universal  objects ;  a  place  where 
warriors  may  be  trained  for  the  army  of  Christ  against 
the  evil,  a  place  where  the  heavenly  life  may  be  imaged 
forth  by  each  living  in  the  life  of  all.  That  was  Grod's 
deep  interest  in  old  poetic  times,  and  it  is  His  deep  inter- 
est now.  Without  that  belief,  there  is  a  bitter  taste  of 
transiency  in  the  sweet  waters  of  home,  an  element  of 
separation  in  the  closest  union ;  with  that  belief,  home  is 
secured  as  an  everlasting  possession,  and  is  pervaded  by 
the  very  spirit  which  unites  God  to  the  universe,  and  the 
universe  to  Him. 

Nor  is  the  related  interference  of  angelic  powers  with 
social  and  national  movements  without  a  meaning  to  us 
now.      If  it  tells  us  in  the  form  of  certain  stories  that 


326      Angelic  Life  in  coimedion  with  Man, 

God  was  watcliing  over  and  guiding  Jewisli  society  and 
Jewish  national  life,  it  tells  ns  that  God  is  watcliing  over 
and  directing  English,  society  and  the  English  nation, 
every  society  and  every  nation.  And  God  knows  that  we 
want  here  in  England  some  belief  of  that  sort  to  protect 
us  from  despair  and  the  sloth  and  indifference  which 
are  born  of  despair.  The  apparent  irreconcileability 
of  the  results  of  science  with  the  faith  which  we  hold 
most  dear,  not  only  with  the  worship  of  the  heart  in 
prayer,  but  even  with  the  existence  of  God  as  a  personal 
Will  at  all,  have  so  confused  and  troubled  us  with  a 
multitude  of  reasonings  opposed  to  feelings,  and  of  feel- 
ings opposed  to  phenomena,  so  troubled  us  with  mysteries 
which  we  cannot  solve  without  apparently  flying  in 
the  face  of  truths  on  both  sides  of  the  questions,  that 
more  than  two-thirds  of  the  thinking  men  of  England 
are  wearied  out,  and,  like  men  in  mist  upon  a  mountain, 
who  can  neither  go  backward  nor  forward  without 
deeper  perplexity,  determine  to  leave  all  these  things 
aside,  and  to  resolve  life  into  its  simplest  elements — eat 
and  drink  and  do  the  work  which  each  day  says  that 
they  must  do,  search  after  truth  which  can  be  demon- 
strated, and  leave  the  deep  questions  of  life  to  solve  them- 
selves, if  they  are  to  be  solved  at  all.  These  men,  men 
who  while  hopeless  are  yet  true,  take  refuge  in  a  stern 
performance  of  their  nearest  duties,  and  they  do  them 
with  a  concealed  fierceness  and  bitterness  which  is  born  of 
their  hopelessness. 

There  are  others,  not  strong  but  frivolous,  not  actual 
men  but  shadows  of  men,  who  take  the  dicta  of  the 
higher   souls   because   it   suits    their   desires,   and   whis- 


Angelic  Life  in  coiinection  with  Man,      327 

pering  to  themselves,  *  There  is  no  God,  no  hope  for  the 
world,'  give  themselves  up  to  disregard  for  everything  but 
self-amusement.  Their  motto  is,  though  they  keep  it  hid- 
den— for  a  kind  of  spasmodic  earnestness  is  the  fashion — 
'  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die ; '  and  their 
practice  is  to  have  the  indifference  of  the  Stoic  without 
his  morality,  the  irreverence  of  the  Cynic  without  his 
austerity,  and  the  life  of  the  Epicurean  without  his 
enjoyment. 

Between  the  thinkers  and  those  who  live  for  pleasure 
and  fashion  lies  the  great  money-making,  position- seeking 
body  of  society.  The  unbelief  in  God,  which  shows  itself 
as  hopelessness  in  one  class  of  men,  and  as  reckless 
enjoyment  of  the  present  followed  by  satiet}^  in  another, 
descends  as  a  subtle  influence  upon  the  third  class  of 
persons  I  have  mentioned ;  and  among  them  has  re- 
sulted in  a  curious  relaxation  of  common  morality,  in 
a  dulness  of  the  social  conscience.  It  manifests  itself 
chiefly  in  an  astonishing  dishonesty  in  business  life, 
and  in  a  still  more  astonishing  system  of  glossing  over 
wickedness  with  specious  excuses.  The  speculating 
banker  who  fails  is  not  as  guilty  in  the  eyes  of  society 
as  the  robber  who  has  carried  off  a  few  sovereigns,  and 
struck  down  the  owner  ;  though  the  former  has  dragged 
hundreds  with  him  into  ruin,  and  the  latter  has  only 
maimed  a  man. 

The  seducer  who  has  torn  from  Eden  an  innocent  girl, 
or  betrayed  the  wife  of  his  friend,  can  be  still,  and  is 
still  if  he  have  power,  rank,  or  wealth,  received  into 
society  which  would  shrink  with  horror  from  touch- 
ing the  hand   of   the  man  who  had  revenged  a  similar 


328      Angelic  Life  in  co7inection  with  Majt. 

wrong  in  the  blood  of  the  offender,  and  lay  under  sen- 
tence of  death.  Which  of  the  two  has  committed  the 
worse  murder  ?  I  know  who  is  guiltiest  in  the  eyes  of 
God.  No  one  asks  society  to  hang  the  seducer  ;  but  what 
sort  of  social  morality  is  that  which  does  not  inflict  any 
social  punishment  upon  him  ? 

The  shopkeeper  who  daily  poisons  the  poor,  or  who 
works  his  men  to  death  to  outsell  his  neighbour,  or  the 
tradesman  who  puts  forth  base  wares  at  the  price  of  good, 
or  the  shipowners  who  send  forth  on  the  coast  of  England 
more  than  four  hundred  rotten  vessels  every  j^ear,  of  which, 
two  hundred  perish,  are  still  received  in  their  society  as 
men  who  are  getting  on  well  in  the  world,  and  themselves 
can  go  to  church,  and  take  the  Sacrament,  and  thank  God 
they  are  not  like  the  outcast  crouching  under  the  arch,  or 
the  miserable  drunkard  reeling  home  to  a  fever-haunted 
room,  when,  in  the  eyes  of  Almighty  Justice,  they  are  ten 
times  as  criminal,  and  all  their  gold  is  accursed,  dark  with 
the  stains  of  human  tears  and  the  rust  of  the  blood  of 
men. 

In  face  of  these  things  there  are  some  men  who 
still  dare  to  hope,  and  who  point  to  the  history  of  the 
Jewish  nation  as  representative  history.  The  same 
faithlessness,  the  same  pleasure-hunting,  the  same  dis- 
honesty, the  same  wickedness,  went  on  in  the  Jerusalem 
of  Isaiah's  time,  and  God  rescued  the  nation  from  this 
abyss  by  judgment  and  by  love.  Therefore,  till  God  is 
proved  to  be  dead,  we  cannot  let  go  our  hopes  for  the 
nation,  nor  cease  to  labour,  as  if  we  kneio  that  labour  for 
God  is  incapable  of  failure.  In  the  very  determination 
of  the  thinkers,  who  have  become  infidel,  to  suffer  no 


Angelic  Life  in  coymection  with  Man.      329 

more  shams,  to  look  only  at  real  things,  to  pursue 
after  truth  and  truth  alone,  no  matter  if  they  lose  all, 
there  is  an  element  of  such  new  good  in  the  future 
as  seems  to  me  quite  incalculable.  They  have  been 
living  in  a  world  of  unrealities,  and  they  have  been  talk- 
ing and  acting  as  if  they  were  face  to  face  with  real 
beliefs.  The  first  step  to  a  true  faith  in  God  by  which 
they  can  live,  is  to  expose  these  unrealities  relentlessly ; 
and  I,  for  my  part,  thank  God  for  the  rigid,  unbending 
determination  with  which  some  men  are  now  possessed 
to  strip  their  souls  naked  of  all  merely  conventional  forms 
of  truth,  and  to  face  the  wilderness  bitterly  but  bravely. 
Truth  so  sought  will  come ;  and  as  the  true  system 
of  the  universe  arose  only  when  the  impossibility  of 
past  systems  had  been  demonstrated,  so  a  higher  belief 
in  God  will  spring  out  of  the  demonstration  that  past 
systems  of  theology,  useful  in  their  time,  are  inca- 
pable of  meeting  the  difficulties  and  the  problems  of 
this  age.  The  solution  may  be  distant  jet,  for  it  seems 
to  be  true  that  we  must  pass  through  a  phase  of 
unbelief  before  we  can  step  into  a  higher  region  of 
belief;  but  even  in  the  unbelief  there  is  a  voice  which 
forbids  us  to  despair.  What  do  we  see  in  the  religion 
of  Positivism,  the  last  intellectual  phase  of  infidelity? 
We  see,  in  spite  of  a  rejection  of  immortality,  un- 
bounded hope  for  the  progress  of  the  race ;  a  stern 
assertion  of  morality;  a  deep  and  imiversal  sympathy 
for  men,  and  eagerness  to  redeem  them  from  physical 
evil  and  moral  wrong;  a  sympathy  for  the  race  as  a 
race  which  has  never  yet  existed  in  society.  These 
elements,    which     the    Comtist    sometimes    forgets    are 


^^o      Angelic  Life  i7i  co7inectioii  with  Man. 

directlj^  derived  from  Christ^s  teaching,  have  been,  it  is 
true,  not  worked  out  in  their  universality  by  Christians 
who  have  an  unchristian  dislike  to  the  word  universal. 
We  thank  the  Comtist  for  taking  the  ideas  of  Christ 
and  showing  to  us  how  they  may  be  expanded.  We 
thank  him  especially  for  leavening  the  nominally  un- 
christian and  sceptical  portion  of  society  with  these 
Christian  ideas.  I  cannot  but  believe  that  the  spirit  of 
Christ's  teaching,  thus  infused  into  men_,  even  though  it 
be  only  partially  given,  and  mingled  with  so  much  error 
and  with  such  a  wretched  practical  mistake  as  the  denial 
of  the  immortality  of  the  personal  soul,  will  descend 
through  society  to  enkindle  and  wake  the  pleasure-hunter 
to  a  truer  life,  and  to  shame  fashion  out  of  its  extrava- 
gance, and  indifference  into  enthusiasm  for  the  welfare  of 
the  race.  Nor  will  dishonesty,  and  corruption,  and  public 
wickedness,  and  mere  grasping  of  gain  at  the  price  of  the 
lives  of  men  and  women,  long  bear  up  against  a  renovated 
public  opinion. 

And  when  Grod  has  thus  brought  by  strange  ways 
the  body  of  English  society  into  a  more  active  life  of 
self-sacrifice,  a  higher  morality,  and  a  wider  love 
of  the  race,  then  I  cannot  but  think  that  men  will 
turn  with  new  eyes  to  contemplate  the  life  of  Christ, 
and  see  in  Him  the  true  King  of  the  new  society ;  the 
real  Teacher  of  all  that  is  true  in  the  religion  of  the 
Comtist ;  the  highest  enthusiast ;  the  ideal  of  the  true 
democrat  and  of  the  true  aristocrat ;  the  source  of  the 
bonds  which  alone  can  destroy  national  jealousies  and 
national  wars ;  the  glorious  proof  and  guarantee  that 
humanity  can  become  divine  ;  the  redeemer  from,  and  the 


Angelic  Life  in  connectio7i  with  Man,      331 

conqueror  of  evil ;  and  the  true  leader  of  all  the  faithful 
s  3uls  of  men  in  the  battle  against  evil.  For  in  Him  alone, 
of  all  that  ever  lived  upon  this  earth,  was  manifested  that 
life  of  God  which  is  the  true  life  of  the  race,  the  life 
which  is  found  negatively  in  absolute  denial  of  self-life, 
positively  in  absolute  giving  of  all  that  we  are  to  form 
the  life  of  others  ;  a  life  which,  here  necessarily  linked  to 
suffering,  is  destined  to  become  in  the  perfect  society  that 
which  it  is  to  Grod  Himself,  the  very  joy  and  ecstasy  of 
being. 

And  now,  to  sweep  back  for  a  moment  to  our  first  sub- 
ject, we  have  found  a  ground  for  the  hope  that  the  future 
society  will  be  constituted  as  a  host  warring  against  evil, 
under  the  leadership  of  Christ.  If  that  be  so,  we  shall 
not  be  devoid  of  the  sympathy,  nor  apart  from  the  com- 
munion, of  the  other  spiritual  beings  who  may  inhabit 
God's  universe.  Their  life  is  no  lazy  dream,  no  indolent 
enjojTuent.  The  spirit  of  the  battle  against  evil  is  the 
spirit  of  their  life.  For  *  there  was  war  in  heaven ; 
Michael  and  his  angels  fought  against  the  dragon.' 
When  we  read  that  stanza  in  the  symbolic  poem  of  the 
Apocalypse,  our  soul  kindles.  We  have  brother  warriors, 
purer  than  we,  who  are  waging  the  same  great  contest, 
and  who  watch  us  with  faithful  and  sympathizing  ej^es. 
The  hosts  of  earth  and  heaven  are  bound  together  by 
the  comrade  spirit,  by  a  common  indignation,  by  a 
common  devotion  to  the  same  Leader.  We  can  only 
conjecture  why  He  has  permitted  evil,  why  He  does 
not  crush  it ;  but  it  is  enough  for  us,  angels  and  men, 
that  we  have  to  fight  against  it.  It  is  enough  for  us  men 
to  feel_,  as  we  do  feel,  that  the  more   we  throw  ourselves 


^^2      A^igelic  Life  in  cornice  lion  with  Afan. 

into  tlie  war  of  Michael  and  the  angels,  the  nobler  be- 
comes our  nature,  the  keener  our  sense  of  a  never- failing 
life,  the  more  intimate  our  union  with  the  natural  home 
of  the  heart  of  man,  the  spirit  of  the  perfect  God. 


Isaac  s  Character,  333 


ISAAC'S   CHARACTER, 

Genesis  xxxv.  27 — 29. 

The  lives  of  Abraham  and  Jacob  are  as  attractive  as  the 
life  of  Isaac  is  apparently  unattractive.  The  former  has 
supplied  materials  for  historians,  preachers,  and  moralists, 
the  latter  has  been  left  comparatively  untouched.  The 
reason  of  this  is  that  the  character  of  Isaac  had  few  salient 
features.  It  had  no  great  faults,  it  had  no  striking 
virtues  ;  it  was  not  boldly  outlined  like  that  of  Abraham, 
which  stands  forth  as  if  chiselled  by  Michael  Angelo ;  it 
was  not  full  of  sharp  and  unexpected  angles  like  that  of 
Jacob  ;  it  is  the  quietest,  smoothest,  most  silent  character 
in  the  Old  Testament.  I  might  say  that  it  was  also  the 
deepest,  were  it  not  that  Isaac  was  weak,  and  the  pro- 
foundest  depths  of  character  are  due  to  strength  of  will. 

And  it  is  owing  to  this  that  there  are  so  few  remark- 
able events  in  the  life  of  Isaac,  for  the  remarkableness  of 
events  is  created  by  the  character  which  meets  them.  If 
Abraham's  character  had  descended  to  his  son,  Isaac's 
history  would  have  been  a  chequered  one.  Only  see  how 
Jacob's  ambitious,  scheming,  pushing  temperament  made 
his  life  a  continual  scene  of  change. 

Again,  the  character  of  Isaac  was  contemplative.  What- 


334  Isaac  s  Character, 

ever  were  Ms  spiritual  struggles,  they  went  on  unseen  in 
the  hermitage  of  his  own  breast.  None  had  ever  sounded 
the  depths  of  his  feeling  or  his  thought.  He  possessed 
the  sadness  which  accompanies  sensitiveness  and  reserve, 
and  it  is  touching  to  feel  how  his  life  contradicted  the 
meaning  of  his  name.  But  it  was  no  passionate  melan- 
choly. No  bitter  grief,  no  wild  agony  of  wrestling  with 
God,  no  moments  of  overwhelming  doubt  of  God's  justice 
passed  over  the  quiet  lake  of  Isaac's  soul,  brooding  ever 
much  upon  itself.  Such  men  make  but  little  outward  im- 
pression. The  world  does  not  care  to  read  a  character 
which  does  not  express  itself  in  action.  Isaac's  history 
has  been  neglected. 

I  make  one  more  remark  in  introduction. 

It  seems  to  be  a  law  that  all  national,  social,  and  per- 
sonal life  should  advance  by  alternate  expansions  and  con- 
tractions. The  wave  of  progress  recedes  before  it  rises 
higher  on  the  strand.  After  a  revolution,  a  few  years  of 
national  repose  occur  before  the  people  settle  down  into 
the  new  order  ;  after  a  reformation,  a  general  weariness  of 
the  subjects  most  insisted  upon  during  the  years  of  reform  ; 
after  a  crisis  in  a  man's  personal  life,  a  period  of  stillness. 
Exhausted  energies  claim  rest  before  they  can  recover 
sufficiently  to  push  forward  on  a  fresh  career. 

We  meet  this  law,  as  we  may  call  it,  here.  A  great  and 
new  impulse  had  entered  history  when  Abraham  went 
forth  to  Canaan.  Full  of  a  sublime  purpose,  endowed 
with  fiery  energy  and  quickness  of  resolution,  Abraham 
pushed  the  world  forward.  Pervading  all  his  qualities 
was  a  deep  and  simple  faith  in  God,  which  producing  a 
stern  sense  of  duty  and  an  unquestioning  obedience,  knit 


Isaac  s  Character.  335 

togetlier  all  his  energies  into  a  life  for  God,  and  made  tlie 
impulse  wliicli  he  gave  the  world  religious. 

Now  characters  strong  in  action,  and  strong  in  suf- 
fering, seem  to  exhaust  for  a  time  the  activity  as  well 
as  the  capability  of  pain  possible  to  any  family.  There 
are  but  few  instances  where  a  great  father  has  had  a 
son  who  equalled  him  in  greatness.  The  old  power 
more  often  re-appears  in  Jacob  than  in  Isaac.  The  spirit 
of  Abraham's  energy  passed  over  his  son  to  his  son's 
son. 

We  ask,  first,  what  were  the  circumstances  which  formed 
the  character  of  Isaac. 

He  was  an  only  son.  Ishmael  had  been  banished  soon 
after  his  birth.  He  lived  without  any  youthful  com- 
panions. It  was  natural  that  he  should  become  the  sober, 
sensitive,  silent  child.  The  natural  brightness  and 
activity  of  a  boy,  when  they  are  not  drawn  out  by  as- 
sociation with  other  children,  are  thrown  inwards  upon 
himself,  and  are  transmuted  into  the  activity  only  of 
reverie  and  the  brightness  only  of  delight  in  the  visions 
which  come  to  solitude. 

Again,  Isaac's  parents  were  both  very  old.  Thus  an 
atmosphere  of  antique  quiet  hung  around  his  life.  There 
was  in  Abraham's  tent,  when  the  boy  began  to  open  his 
questioning  eyes  upon  the  world,  an  evening  air  of 
finished  life,  of  silent  waiting  for  the  great  change,  of 
peaceful  victory  over  trials,  of  calm  repose  upon  the 
memory  of  an  active  past.  This  also  subtly  influenced  the 
character  of  Isaac. 

Again,  these  two  old  hearts  lived  for  him  alone.  On  him 
the  pent-up  parental  love  of  many,  many  years  was  out- 


33 6  Isaacs  Character, 

poured.  His  youth  was  sheltered  as  rauch  as  his  child- 
hood from  the  rough  winds  of  life.  Surrounded  by  the 
infinite  delicacy  of  the  experienced  tenderness  of  old  age 
— a  tenderness  doubly  tender  from  the  great  shock  it  had 
suffered  on  Mount  Gerizim — Isaac  grew  up  to  manhood. 

So  was  moulded  the  man  of  thought  and  gentleness, 
while  the  man,  like  Jacob,  of  active  and  stormy  life,  was 
formed  for  his  work  by  the  struggle  at  home  with  Esau, 
was  tried  by  the  favouritism  of  his  father,  and  sent  out  at 
last  in  loneliness  to  fight  single-handed  the  battle  of 
existence. 

These,  in  brief,  were  the  early  influences  which  built 
up  the  character  of  Isaac.  It  is  a  character  difficult  to 
define,  appearing  far  more  from  the  absence  than  from  the 
presence  of  things  said  and  done ;  but  we  shall  find  his 
excellences  and  his  faults  exemplified  in  his  life. 

I  take  the  excellences  of  his  character  first. 

1.  The  first  scene  in  which  Isaac  appears  is  on  the 
ascent  to  Mount  Gerizim.  Both  old  man  and  young  went 
up  the  sloj)e  alone.  Isaac  kept  silence.  Once  only,  as  he 
laded  himself  with  the  fire  and  wood,  did  he  question, 
quickly,  '  Where  is  the  lamb  ?  '  &c.  He  must  have  seen 
the  trouble  in  his  father's  eyes,  he  must  have  noticed  the 
constraint  of  manner,  the  signs  of  suj)pressed  and  mys- 
terious sorrow,  and  there  may  have  flashed  upon  his  heart 
with  a  shock  of  horrible  pain  a  thought  familiar  then  to 
dwellers  in  Canaan,  the  thought  of  human  sacrifice.  Was 
Abraham  victimless,  because  he  was  the  victim  ?  Yet  he 
was  still,  and  spoke  no  word.  His  trust  in  his  father  was 
entire.  We  read  of  no  struggle,  of  no  unmanly  prayers, 
only  of  the  submissive  self- surrender  in  obedience  unto 


Isaac's  Character.  337 

death,  because  what  Abraham  willed  was  also  the  will 
of  Isaac. 

In  this  he  was  a  noble  type  indeed  of  Christ.  Isaac,  in 
the  highest  moment  perhaps  of  his  whole  life,  shadowed 
forth  the  perfect  sacrifice  of  Him  who  was  all  that  Isaac 
could  not  be. 

Christian  brethren,  if  you  cannot  in  your  life,  as  these 
old  patriarchs  did,  typify  Christ  before  He  came,  revealing- 
glimpses  of  the  perfect  Man  to  come,  you  can  make  Him 
manifest  now  to  men  by  setting  your  existence  to  the 
music  of  His  Life.  Oh  !  if  God  calls  you,  as  He  may,  to 
give  up  youth,  love,  fame,  noble  prospects,  as  Abraham 
called  on  Isaac,  then  do  so  in  Isaac's  spirit — silent  sub- 
mission, unmurmuring  obedience,  deep  faith  that  your 
Father  loves  you  and  knows  best. 

The  next  excellence  of  the  character  of  Isaac  was  his 
tender  constancy.  It  arose  out  of,  or  at  least  was  deeply 
coloured  by,  the  peculiar  quietude  of  his  temperament. 
It  is  exemplified  in  the  story  of  his  mother's  death  and 
of  his  marriage.  He  was  forty  years  old  when  Sarah 
passed  away.  We  should  imagine  that  Isaac  would 
not  feel  this  loss  much,  for  there  could  be  little  in  com- 
mon between  a  son  and  a  mother  separated  by  an  interval 
of  ninety  years  of  age.  But  the  habitudes  of  life  to  a 
man  like  Isaac  are  strong  as  iron  chains,  and  the  forcible 
severing  of  one  of  them  makes  him  feel  rudderless  and 
adrift.  His  grief  was  not  violent  but  deep,  deep  from 
the  natural  constancy  of  a  silent  heart.  He  could  not 
bear  the  clamour  of  the  encampment,  it  was  intrusive  ; 
he  could  not  bear  the  sif^ht  of  the  tent  in  the  eveninir 
when  his  mother  used  to  welcome  him,  for  it  made  him 


338  Isaac's  Character. 

sadly  conscious  of  a  great  want.  Above  all  things,  a 
character  like  his  demanded  female  sympathy.  Deprived 
of  his  mother's  love,  he  wandered  out  to  the  fields 
when  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun  had  reddened  all  the 
sky,  and  drew  into  his  soul  calm  from  the  peacefulness  of 
eventide.  There  he  confided  to  the  great  Mother  and  to 
God  the  sorrow  which  could  not  speak,  the  hopes  which 
thrilled  him  when  he  thought  of  Eliezer's  mission.  One 
evening,  as  he  walked,  he  saw  the  camels  draw  near  from 
the  eastward;  he  turned,  and  found  the  answer  to  his 
prayer  in  the  sympathy  which  filled  with  tears  the  eyes  of 
Rebekah. 

We  are  not  told  that  he  married  a  second  wife.  Of 
all  the  patriarchs  he  alone  had  tender  constancy  enough 
never  to  need  any  other  solace  than  the  first  afiection 
of  his  manhood.  He  alone  represented  to  the  Jewish 
nation  the  ideal  of  true  marriage.  He  is  the  only 
Hebrew  in  the  Bible  who  appears  to  share  in  a  more 
northern  type  of  character.  Nay,  there  is,  even  in  his 
constancy  to  the  memory  of  his  mother  and  to  his 
wife,  something  of  the  coolness  of  a  man  whose  pas- 
sions were  not  capable  of  storm.  There  was  no  eastern 
violence  in  his  grief;  nothing  can  be  quieter  than 
the  way  he  takes  his  marriage.  Abraham  seems  to 
manage  the  whole  thing  for  him  :  he  allows  a  servant 
to  choose  his  wife;  he  takes  no  visible  interest  in  the 
embassy  to  Haran.  A  man,  apparently,  who  would 
rather  let  events  come  and  find  him,  and  then  be  con- 
tented with  them,  than  one  who  would  either  seek  for 
.  events  or  lead  them  ;  a  man  whose  constancy  was  a  natural 
instinct  rather  than   a  virtue ;    who  once  put  into  any 


Isaac's  Character,  339 

position,  such  as  marriage,  would  stay  tliere  and  not  feel 
the  energy  which  might  make  the  position  so  wearisome 
as  to  lead  him  to  desire  a  change. 

Of  this  kind  also  was  his  piety.  It  was  as  natural 
to  him  as  to  a  woman  to  trust  and'love;  not  strongly, 
but  constantly,  sincerely.  From  his  earliest  years, 
through  his  still  and  dependent  character,  he  received 
unquestioning  his  father's  God  and  rested  his  heart 
upon  the  Lord.  His  trust  became  the  habit  of  his  soul. 
His  days  were  knit  each  to  each  by  natural  piety.  He 
had  no  doubt,  no  dark  hours  of  passionate  prayer,  no 
fervent  agony  of  soul.  We  maj^  too  much  neglect 
him  on  account  of  this,  for  the  strong  man  who  has 
been  brought  close  to  God  out  of  desperate  struggle 
is  more  interesting,  because  apparently  more  heroic, 
than  a  tranquil  man  who  has  known  the  Heavenly 
Father  from  his  youth.  But  we  are  much  mistaken  in 
our  neglect.  To  have  unquestioning  faith  is  the  high- 
est blessedness  of  man,  and  many  a  poor  woman  and 
illiterate  man  who  have  never  doubted,  because  they 
have  never  lived  in  the  spirit  of  the  world ;  never  had 
any  ecstasy  in  forgiveness  because  they  have  never 
sinned  deeply,  are  far  nearer  Heaven  than  a  man  like 
Jacob.  To  have  served  God  simply,  calmlj^,  unbrokenly, 
like  Isaac,  is  indeed  blessed.  It  is  not  without  comfort 
and  relief  that  we  turn  from  the  grandeur  of  Abra- 
ham's long  life-contest,  and  from  the  slow,  tempes- 
tuous, sorrowful  growth  of  Jacob's  religion,  to  the 
secluded,  restful,  continuous  religious  life  of  Isaac. 
Many  a  Jew,  in  after  times,  who  could  never  have 
reached    the   height   of  Abraham's   life,   who   could  not 

z  2 


340 


Isaac  s  Character, 


sympathize  with  the  burning  force  of  Isaiah's  heart, 
or  with  the  impassioned  sorrow  of  Jeremiah,  must  have 
looked  back  and  found  repose  in  contemplating  the  still 
valley  of  existence  where  the  religion  of  Isaac  worshipped 
and  advanced.  And  many  a  Christian  now,  who  perhaps 
thinks  himself  not  so  near  to  God  as  his  friend,  because 
he  does  not  feel  his  struggle  or  his  ecstasy  of  soul,  may 
find  in  Isaac  the  prototj-pe  of  his  own  life,  and  know  that 
God  is  with  him  as  He  was  with  Isaac.  It  is  true,  it  is  a 
moment  of  rapture  when  one  who  has  been  worldly, 
sinful,  thoughtless,  like  Jacob,  finds  his  God  at  last ;  but 
it  is  more  blessed  still  when  a  man  can  have,  like  Isaac, 
the  thought  that  he  has  grown  naturally,  like  a  flower^ 
from  youth  to  manhood,  into  the  likeness  of  the  Heavenly- 
Father. 

We  turn  now  to  the  faults  of  the  character  of  Ima 
I  have  said  of  him  that  he  was  a  man  who  would  rather 
let  events  come  and  find  him,  than  seek  for  or  lead  events. 
There  had  descended  to  him  nothing  of  the  lightning-like 
activity  of  Abraham,  who,  to  rescue  his  relation  and  to 
vindicate  a  wrong,  pursued  all  night  in  a  forced  march, 
surprised,  and  routed  the  army  of  the  four  kings.  Isaac 
was  slow,  indifi'erent,  inactive.  We  find  this  exemplified 
in  the  story  of  the  wells.     (Gen.  xxvi.  18 — 22.) 

There  are  times,  and  this  was  one  of  them,  when  war 
is  necessary.  Good,  fair  fighting  is  the  only  way  to 
cut  some  knots  and  to  settle  some  questions  ;  and  at  such 
times  the  anything-for-peace  party  do  this  evil  especially 
— they  sacrifice  the  welfare  of  the  future  to  their  ease  in 
the  present. 

This  is  exactly  what  Isaac  was  now  doing.     It  was  all- 


Isaac  s  Character.  341 

important  for  Abraham's  family  that  they  should  be 
respected  by  the  Canaanites.  If  they  lost  their  reputation 
for  bravery  and  for  defence  of  their  own  rights,  they 
would  be  treated  as  the  weak  are  treated  ;  one  bj^  one  they 
would  have  perished,  and  the  nation  of  Israel  had  never 
been.  In  these  circumsta'uces  Isaac  should  not  have  given 
way. 

But  this  is  not  Christian  ;  we  are  told  joyfully  to  suffer 
wrongs.  I  answer,  first,  that  those  were  not  Christian 
times ;  and  secondly,  that  even  if  they  had  been  so,  the 
founder  of  a  nation  or  the  ruler  of  a  tribe  is  not  bound  b}^ 
the  same  rules  of  conduct  as  an  Apostle,  though  he  is 
bound  by  the  same  principles.  Their  work  is  different. 
If  a  settler  in  the  backwoods  were  to  allow  Indians  to  cut 
his  corn  with  impunity,  it  would  not  be  long  before  his 
whole  household  would  be  slaughtered,  and  such  a  con- 
tempt created  among  the  Indians  for  his  fellow-settlers, 
that  they  in  turn  would  suffer.  There  would  be  nothing 
Christian  in  that  conduct ;  for  though  a  man  ought  to 
forgive  an  injury,  he  must  also  defend  public  law  ;  though 
he  may  give  way  on  a  personal  point,  as  Abraham  did 
to  Lot,  when  no  interests  but  his  own  were  involved, 
he  must  not  give  way  when  the  interests  of  others  are 
engaged. 

It  is  the  mistake  of  such  characters  as  Isaac,  that 
they  take  a  kind  of  pride  in  their  willingness  to  forgive 
and  their  readiness  to  suffer  wrong,  and  call  this  Christian, 
when  in  reality  it  is  a  want  of  power  to  feel  a  just  indig- 
nation, and  the  desire  to  lead  an  undisturbed  life,  which 
are  the  reasons  for  their  apparent  self- surrender.  The 
error  of  this  impassiveness  is  great,  for  it  entails  misfor- 


342 


Isaacs  Cha7^acter. 


tune  on  otliers  who  do  feel  acutely,  and  who  have  to  bear 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  injuryt  Isaac  sat  still  in  his 
tent  while  his  herdsmen  fought  his  battles  for  him  ;  and 
when  the  noise  became  importunate  upon  his  dainty  medi- 
tation, gave  way,  left  the  place,  and  brought  double 
trouble  upon  his  peoj)le.  All  he  wanted  was  tranquillity  ; 
he  did  not  think  of  the  comfort  of  others. 

The  same  weakness,  ending  in  selfishness,  appears  again 
in  the  history  of  Isaac^s  lie  to  Abimelech.  Into  the 
critical  question  about  the  repetition  of  the  same  story  in 
Abraham's  and  Isaac's  life,  I  do  not  enter.  But  looked 
at  in  contrast  with  Isaac's  fearless  silence  when  at  the 
point  of  death  under  the  knife  of  Abraham,  this  fear  of 
being  slain  is  curious  as  a  mental  problem. 

The  solution  may  be  this.  Isaac's  character  would 
lead  him  to  acquiesce  in  the  inevitable.  Let  him  once 
know  that  death  was  certain^  and  he  could  die  bravely ; 
but  he  quailed  before  the  imagination  of  death.  So, 
provided  he  could  escape  from  the  haunting  fear  which, 
because  it  kept  him  in  suspense,  disturbed  the  even 
tenor  of  his  life,  he  would  not  shrink  from  a  lie,  espe- 
cially as  it  wore  the  aspect  of  a  truth.  Many  of  the 
greatest  temptations  of  these  sensitive  and  unpractical 
characters  arise  from  the  predominance  of  imagination 
over  the  will  and  the  conscience.  It  is  not  only  con- 
science which  doth  make  cowards  of  us  all.  Isaac  jdelded 
to  an  imagined  fear,  and  lied. 

It  is  one  of  the  melancholy  results  of  a  false  view  of 
Bible  history  and  of  inspiration  that  commentators  are 
driven  to  immoral  shifts  and  shuffling,  in  order  to  whiten 
over  the  dark  spots  in  the  lives  of  the  Old  Testament 


Isaac's  Character. 


343 


saints.  "We  are  told  by  one  who  should  have  known 
better,  *  that  Isaac  did  right  to  evade  the  difficulty  as  long 
as  he  could  lawfully,  and  to  wait  and  see  if  God  would  in- 
terpose/ This  is  quite  miserable.  A  lie  is  a  lie,  and  the 
lie  of  Isaac  was  a  very  shameful  lie.  It  was  the  cowardice 
of  involving  his  wife  in  possible  dishonour  that  he  might 
save  his  own  life  ;  it  was  throwing;  by  a  deceit,  the  whole 
burden  of  a  difficulty  upon  the  shoulders  of  a  woman. 

Look  at  its  results.  Isaac  had,  so  to  speak,  accredited 
deception  within  his  household.  The  poison  had  been  in- 
troduced which  bore  fruit  in  Rebekah's  deceit  and  in 
Jacob's  determined  falsehood  at  a  most  solemn  moment. 
From  that  time  forth  we  seem  also  to  feel,  we  know  not 
why,  that  Rebekah's  respect  for  her  husband  was  de- 
stroyed. There  is  no  longer  any  true  community  of  in- 
terests or  feelino^  between  them.     All  o-oes  wrono-. 

Brethren,  no  sin  escapes  its  punishment ;  and  a  father's 
sin  taints  a  household.  Let  fear  drive  you  to  swerve  from 
honour ;  lie  like  Isaac  to  gain  your  point,  if  you  will,  but 
do  not  wonder  afterwards  if  your  son  prefers  his  life  to  his 
honour,  the  '  blessing  of  prosperity  '  to  the  sacred  rights 
of  truth,  to  the  welfare  of  a  brother,  and  to  the  peace  of  a 
father^s  heart.  It  is  your  punishment,  not  arbitrary,  but 
natural.  Plant  a  lie  in  your  life,  and  some  bitter  winter 
day  you  will  have  to  eat  its  fruit. 

In  one  other  way  the  weakness  which  arose  from  Isaac's 
easiness  of  character  manifested  itself ;  in  the  division  be- 
tween his  sons.  He  took  no  pains  to  harmonize  Jacob  and 
Esau  with  one  another.  He  fell  into  the  fault  of  medita- 
tive men,  of  men  who  live  in  their  own  world  of  thought ; 
the  fault  of  letting  things  take  their  course,  lest  inter- 


344  Isaacs  Character. 

ference  should  disturb  him.  Hence  the  curse  of  favourit- 
ism prevailed  in  his  tent.  Every  one  can  see  that  Esau's 
character  was  a  reaction  from  his  father's,  and  for  this  very 
reason — that  Isaac  saw  in  his  eldest  son  the  qualities  of 
daring  and  activity  which  he  had  not — he  loved  him 
most.  He  admired  the  bold  hunter  ;  he  looked  down  on 
Jacob,  who  dwelt  smoothly  in  the  tent,  in  whom  he  saw 
his  own  faults  modified  or  magnified.  Hence  arose  a 
further  division  between  Isaac  and  Hebekah.  The  woman 
adopted  the  cause  of  the  neglected  son,  and  practised  with 
him  against  her  husband  and  her  eldest  born.  It  is  a  sad 
spectacle.  It  is  more  ;  it  is  a  solemn  warning  to  the 
parents  of  this  congregation.  Look  to  it,  I  say,  that 
laziness  of  contemplation  and  love  of  ease  do  not  end  in  in- 
justice, and  injustice  end  in  a  household  divided  against 
itself;  in  an  alienated  wife,  a  son  whose  brave  heart  is 
turned  to  gall  and  revenge,  another  who  goes  forth  into 
the  world  to  cheat  and  shuffle  and  compromise,  and  only 
after  long  and  weary  pilgrimage  to  find  rest  at  last  in 
truth.  It  is  wretched  to  think  how  many  a  home  is 
ruined,  as  Isaac's  was,  by  the  fear  of  falsehood,  sloth  or 
favouritism,  of  a  parent. 

There  is  one  more  accusation  usually  made  against 
Isaac — his  love  of  savoury  meat.  But  I  do  not  speak  of 
this  so  much  as  a  fault  as  a  natural  consequence  of  his 
temperament  and  mode  of  life.  An  inactive  man  who  has 
but  little  enjoyment  in  out-door  exercise,  or  who,  as  we 
may  suppose  was  the  case  with  Isaac,  allows  himself  to  be 
80  mastered  by  a  physical  misfortune,  such  as  blindness, 
as  always  to  keep  his  couch,  very  often  becomes  a  slave  to 
his  appetites.     Their  gratification  supplies  him  with  the 


Isaac^s  Character,  345 

stimulus  whicli  an  energetic  man  would  derive  from  work. 
It  is  curious  to  see  that  Isaac  seemed  to  have  needed  this 
stimulus  prior  to  any  mental  exercise  of  foresight  or  will. 
This  need,  this  pitiable  love  of  savoury  things,  which 
seems  never  to  have  degenerated  into  gluttony,  is  quite  in 
accordance  with  his  general  character.  It  only  teaches  us 
the  great  lesson  that  the  body  revenges  itself  for  neglect 
of  its  laws.  If  we  will  not  take  healthy  impulses  from 
phj^sical  exercise  towards  the  work  of  the  brain  and  of  the 
spirit,  we  must  supply  their  place  by  unhealthy  expedients, 
for  man  cannot  live  without  some  stimulus  or  other.  We 
substitute  our  own  way  for  God's  way,  we  run  counter  to 
the  universe,  and  we  reap  what  we  have  sown  in  our  body, 
and  the  body  disturbs  the  mind,  and  the  mind  the  spirit, 
and  we  are  all  unhinged.  Let  the  man  who  spends  a 
dreamy,  sedentary,  idle  life  beware  lest  he  drop  into  a 
querulous  old  age,  and  end  in  becoming  a  mere  lover  of 
savoury  meat. 

Lastly.  If  the  faults  of  Isaac  were  great,  yet  his  ex- 
cellences on  the  whole  were  greater.  One  sorrowful  day, 
the  day  of  his  son's  deceit,  he  saw  what  his  weakness  had 
done.  He  seems  to  me  to  have  then  looked  in  the  face 
the  fault  of  his  whole  character,  and  repented  of  it.  I  say 
this  because  I  cannot  otherwise  account  for  the  accession 
of  strength  which  his  character  and  the  clear  insight 
which  his  mind  seem  suddenly  to  have  gained.  It  re- 
quired strength  of  will  to  hold  fast  to  the  blessing  he  had 
pronounced  on  Jacob  in  spite  of  the  passionate  grief  of  his 
best-loved  son.  It  required  great  insight,  in  spite  of  his 
own  favouritism  of  the  one  and  of  the  deceit  of  the  other, 
to  recognize  beneath  what  was  base  in  his  younger  son  a 


34^  Isaac' s  Character, 

liiglier  character  tlian  that  of  Esau.  From  this  moment 
I  date  the  redemption  of  Isaac's  character  from  his  faults. 
He  was  left  alone,  and  for  many  years  we  hear  no  more  of 
the  good  old  man.  But  we  catch  a  last  glimpse  of  him, 
and  it  is  a  happy  one.  To  him,  dwelling  at  Hebron,  came 
his  son  Jacob,  rich,  blessed  of  God,  with  a  goodly  train  of 
sons.  And  as  Isaac  saw  the  youths,  he  felt  that  the 
promise  of  Abraham^s  God  was  being  fulfilled.  He  saw 
himself  the  father  of  many  nations.  His  heart  rejoiced  in 
the  future  glory  of  his  people. 

Then  came  the  last  scene  of  this  silent  life.  Beside  his 
d3dng  bed  stood  both  his  sons,  reconciled  to  one  another. 
His  death  united  in  love  those  whom  his  weakness  and 
favouritism  had  separated.  The  scars  of  his  life  were 
healed.  God  was  good  to  him,  and  gave  him  rest. 
Brightness  was  round  the  old  man's  head,  and  peace  in  the 
old  man's  heart,  when  death  came  tenderly  and  gathered 
Isaac  to  his  fathers. 


CLAY    AND    TAYLOR,    PRINTERS,    BUNGAY. 


A  LIST  OF 

C.     KEGAN   PAUL    AND    CO:S 

PUBLICATIONS. 


7.81. 


I,  Paternoster  Square^  London, 

A    LIST    OF 

C.   KEGAN   PAUL  AND   CO.'S 
PUBLICATIONS. 


ADAMS  (F.O.),  F.R.G.S. 
The  History  of  Japan.  From 

the  Earliest  Period  to  the  Present 
Time.  New  Edition,  revised.  2 
volumes.  With  Maps  and  Plans. 
Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  215.  each. 

ADAMS  (W.D.). 
Lyrics  of  Love,  from  Shake- 
speare to  Tennyson.     Selected  and 
arranged  by.  Fcap.  8vo.   Cloth  extra, 
gilt  edges,  price  35.  6<^. 

ADAMSON  (H.  T.),  B.D. 
The  Truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  Zs.  6d. 

The  Three  Sevens.     Crown 

8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^.  6d. 

A.  K.  H.  B. 
From  a  Quiet  Place.  A  New 

Volume  of  Sermons.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  55. 

ALBERT  (Mary). 
Holland  and  her  Heroes  to 

the  year  1585.  An  Adaptation  from 
Motley's  "  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
public." Small  crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price,  ^s.  6d. 

ALLEN  (Rev.  R.),  M.A. 
Abraham  ;  his  Life,  Times, 

and  Travels,  3,800  years  ago.  Se- 
cond Edition.  With  Map.  Post 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

ALLEN  (Grant),  B.A. 
Physiological     .Esthetics. 

Large  post  Svo.     gj. 
ALLIES  (T.  W.),  M.A. 
PerCrucem  ad  Lucem.  The 
Result  of  a  Life.    2  vols.    Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  25J. 

A  Life's  Decision.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  7*.  6d. 


AMATEUR. 
A  Few  Lyrics.    Small  crown 

8vo.     Cloth,  price  2s, 
ANDERSON  (Col.  R.  P.). 
Victories  and  Defeats.    An 

Attempt  to  explain  the  Causes  which 
have  led  to  them.  An  Officer's 
Manual.  Demy8vo.  Cloth,  price  14J. 

ANDERSON  (R.  C),  C.E. 
Tables  for  Facilitating  the 
Calculation  of  every  Detail  in 
connection  with  Earthen  and 
Masonry  Dams.  Royal8vo.  Cloth, 
price  £,2  2s. 

Antiope.     A   Tragedy.     Large 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

ARCHER  (Thomas). 
About       my      Father's 

Business.  Work  amidst  the  Sick, 
the  Sad,  and  the  Sorrowing.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  2^.  6d. 

ARMSTRONG  (Richard  A.),B.  A. 
Latter-Day  Teachers.     Six 

Lectures.  Small  crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  2S.  6d. 

Army  of  the  North  German 

Confederation. 

A  Brief  Description  of  its  Organi- 
zation, of  the  Different  Branches 
of  the  Service  and  their  roie  in  War, 
of  its  Mode  of  Fighting,  &c.  &c. 
Translated  from  the  Corrected  Edi- 
tion, by  permission  of  the  Author,  by 
Colonel  Edward  Newdigate.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

ARNOLD  (Arthur). 
Social  Politics.     Demy  Svo, 

Cloth,  price  14s. 

Free  Land.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  6.f. 


A  List  of  C.  Kegan  Paid  &*  Go's  Publications. 


AUBERTING.J-). 
Camoens'  Lusiads.  Portu- 
guese Text,  with  Translation  by. 
With  Map  and  Portraits.  2  vols. 
Demy  8vo.  Price  30J. 
Seventy  Sonnets  of  Ca- 
moens'. Portuguese  text  and  trans- 
lation, with  some  original  poems. 
Dedicated  to  Captain  Richard  F. 
Burton.  Printed  on  hand-made  paper. 
Cloth,  bevelled  boards,  gilt  top, 
price  7^.  6d. 

Aunt  Mary's  Bran  Pie. 

By  the  author  of  "  St.  Olave's." 
Illustrated.    Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

AVIA. 
The    Odyssey    of    Homer 

Done  into  English  Verse,  Fcap. 
4to.     Cloth,  price  155. 

BADGER(George  Perry),  D.C.L. 
An  English-Arabic  Lexi- 
con. In  which  the  equivalents  for 
English  words  and  idiomatic  sen- 
tences are  rendered  into  literary  and 
colloquial  Arabic.  Royal  4to.  Cloth, 
price  £g  gs. 

BAGEHOT  (Walter). 
Some  Articles  on  the  De- 
preciation of  Silver,  and  Topics 
connected  with  it.    Demy  8vo.  Price 
5J- 

The  English  Constitution. 

A  New  Edition,  Revised  and 
Corrected,  with  an  Introductory 
Dissertation  on  Recent  Changes  and 
Events.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
^s.  6d. 

Lombard      Street.       A 

Description  of  the  Money  Market. 
Seventh  Edition.   Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  7^.  6^. 
BAGOT  (Alan). 
Accidents  in  Mines :  their 

Causes  and  Prevention.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 
BAKER  (Sir  Sherston,  Bart.). 
Halleck's  International 
Law  ;  or  Rules  Regulating  the 
Intercourse  of  States  in  Peace  and 
War.  A  New  Edition,  Revised,  with 
Notes  and  Cases.  2  vols.  Demy 
8vo.    Cloth,  price  38*. 


BAKER   (Sir  Sherston,    Bart.)— 

continued. 

The  Laws  relating  to  Qua- 
rantine. Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
125.  6d. 
BALDWIN  (Capt.  J.  H.),  F.Z.S. 
The  Large  and  Small  Game 
of  Bengal  and  the  North-W^est- 
ern  Provinces  of  India.  4to.  With 
numerous  Illustrations.  Second  Edi- 
tion.    Cloth,  price  21J. 

BANKS  (Mrs.  G.  L.). 

God's  Providence   House. 

New  Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  3^.  6d. 

Ripples      and       Breakers. 

Poems.    Square  8vo.  Cloth,  price  55. 
BARLEE  (Ellen). 
Locked  Out :  a  Tale  of  the 

Strike.  With  a  Frontispiece.  Royal 
i6mo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

BARNES  (William). 
An    Outline     of     English 
Speechcraft.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth, 
price  4J. 

Poems  of  Rural  Life,  in  the 

Dorset  Dialect.  New  Edition, 
complete  in  i  vol.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  Zs.  6d. 

Outlines       of       Redecraft 

(Logic).      With    English    Wording. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  ^s- 
BARTLEY  (George  C.  T.). 
Domestic  Economy :  Thrift 

in  Every  Day  Life.  Taught  in 
Dialogues  suitable  for  Children  of 
all  ages.  Small  crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
limp,  "zs. 

BAUR  (Ferdinand),  Dr.  Ph. 
A  Philological  Introduction 
to  Greek  and  Latin  for  Students. 
Translated  and  adapted  from  the 
German  of.  By  C.  Kegan  Paul, 
M.A.  Oxon.,  and  the  Rev.  E.  D. 
Stone,  M.A.,  late  Fellow  of  King's 
College,  Cambridge,  and  Assistant 
Master  at  Eton.  Second  and  re- 
vised edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

BAYNES  (Rev.  Canon  R.  H.). 
At  the  Communion  Time. 
A    Manual  for    Holy  Communion. 
With  a  preface  by  the  Right  Rev. 


A  List  of 


BAYNES  (Rev.  Canon  R.   H.)— 

continued. 

the    Lord    Bishop    of    Derry    and 

Raphoe.     Cloth,  price  xs.  6d. 

%*  Can  also  be  had  bound  in 
French  morocco,  price  25.  6d. ;  Per- 
sian morocco,  price  3^. ;  Calf,  or 
Turkey  morocco,  price  3^.  6d. 

BELLINGHAM  (Henry),  Barris- 
ter-at-Law. 

Social  Aspects  of  Catholi- 
cism and  Protestantism  in  their 
Civil  Bearing  upon  Nations, 
Translated  and  adapted  from  the 
French  of  M.  le  Baron  de  Haulle- 
ville.  With  a  Preface  by  His  Emi- 
nence Cardinal  Manning.  Second 
and  cheaper  edition.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

BENNETT  (Dr.  W.  C). 
Narrative  Poems  &  Ballads. 

Fcap.  8vo.  Sewed  in  Coloured  Wrap- 
per, price  IS. 

Songs  for  Sailors.  Dedicated 
by  Special  Request  to  H.  R.  H.  the 
Duke  of  Edinburgh.  _  With  Steel 
Portrait  and  Illustrations.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

An  Edition  in  Illustrated  Paper 
Covers,  price  is. 

Songs  of  a   Song  Writer. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 
BENT  (J.  Theodore). 
Genoa.    How  the  Republic 
Rose  and  Fell.     With  18  Illustra- 
tions.    Demy  Svo.    Cloth,  price  185-. 

BETHAM  -  EDWARDS    (Miss 

M.). 

Kitty.     With  a  Frontispiece. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 
BEVINGTON  (L.  S.). 

Key    Notes.      Small   crown 

8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

Blue  Roses  ;  or,  Helen  Mali- 

nofska's  Marriage.  By  the  Author 
of  "  Vera."  2  vols.  Fifth  Edition. 
Cloth,  gilt  tops,  125. 

*^  Also  a  Cheaper  Edition   in  i 
vol.    With  Frontispiece.    Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 
BLUME  (Major  W.). 
The     Operations     of     the 

German  Armies  in  France,  from 
Sedan  to  the  end  of  the  war  of  1870- 


BLUME  {lAa]ov'W.')— contained. 
71.  With  Map.  From  the  Journals 
of  the  Head-quarters  Staflf.  Trans- 
lated by  the  late  E.  M.  Jones,  Maj. 
20th  Foot,  Prof,  of  Mil.  Hist,  Sand- 
hurst.    Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  gs. 

BOGUSLAWSKI  (Capt.  A.  von). 
Tactical  Deductions  from 

the  War  of  1870-71.  Translated 
by  Colonel  Sir  Lumley  Graham, 
Bart.,  late  i8th  (Royal  Irish)  Regi- 
ment. Third  Edition,  Revised  and 
Corrected.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
■js. 
BONWICK(J.),  F.R.G.S. 
Egyptian  Belief  and  Mo- 
dern Thought.  Large  post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  los.  6d. 

Pyramid  Facts  and  Fan- 
cies. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  55. 
The  Tasmanian  Lily.  With 

Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  ss. 

Mike  Howe,the  Bushranger 
of  Van   Diemen's   Land.     With 

Frontispiece.  New  and  cheaper 
edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
3J.  6d. 

BOWEN  (H.C.),  M.A. 
English  Grammar  for  Be- 
ginners. Fcap.Svo.  Cloth,  price  ij. 

Studies  in  English,  for  the 

useof  Modern  Schools.  Small  crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

Simple     English     Poems. 

English  Literature  for  Junior  Classes. 
In  Four  Parts.  Parts  1.  and  II.,  price 
6d.  each,  now  ready. 
BOWRING  (Sir  John). 
Autobiographical  Recollections. 
With  Memoir  by  Lewin  B.  Bowring. 
Demy  Svo.     Price  145. 

Brave  Men's  Footsteps. 

By  the  Editor  of  "  Men  who  have 
Risen."  A  Book  of  Example  and 
Anecdote  for  Young  People.  With 
Four  Illustrations  by  C.  Doyle. 
Sixth  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  6d. 
BRIALMONT  (Col.  A.). 
Hasty    Intrenchments. 

Translated  by  Lieut.  Charles  A. 
Empson,  R.  A.  With  Nine  Plates. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 


C  Kega?i  Paul  &>  Coh  Puhlications. 


BRIDGETT(Rev.  J.  E.). 
History  of  the  Holy  Eucha- 
rist in  Great    Britain.    2   vols., 
demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  xZs. 

BRODRICK  (The  Hon.  G.  C). 
Political     Studies.      Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  14^'. 

BROOKE  (Rev.  S.  A.),  M.  A. 

The  Late  Rev.  F.  W.  Ro- 
bertson, M.A.,  Life  and  Letters 
of.     Edited  by. 

L  Uniform  with  the  Sermons. 
2  vols.  With  Steel  Portrait.  Price 
•]S.  td. 

II.  Library  Edition.    8vo.    With 
Portrait.     Price  12J. 

III.  .A.  Popular  Edition,  in  i  vol. 
8vo.     Price  ds. 

The  Spirit  of  the  Christian 
Life.  A  New  Volume  of  Sermons. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  7^.  bd. 

Theology  in  the  English 
Poets.  —  CowPER,  Coleridge, 
Wordsworth,  and  Burns.  Fourth 
and  Cheaper  Edition.  Post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5J. 

Christ     in     Modern     Life. 

Fifteenth     and     Cheaper     Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 
Sermons.         First       Series. 
Eleventh  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  ts. 

Sermons.       Second     Series. 

Fourth  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  "js. 

The  Fight  of  Faith.     Ser- 
mons preached  on  various  occasions. 
Fifth  Edition.     Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  75.  td. 
BROOKE  (W.G.),  M.A. 
The    Public    Worship 

Regulation  Act.  With  a  Classified 
Statement  of  its  Provisions,  Notes, 
and  Index.  Third  Edition,  Revised 
and  Corrected.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  td. 

Six    Privy    Council  Judg- 
ments—1850-1872.    Annotated  by. 
Third  Edition.     Crown  Svo.     Cloth, 
price  Q  s. 
BROUN  (J.  A.). 

Magnetic  Observations  at 
Trevandrum  and  Augustia 
M alley.  Vol.  L  4to.  Cloth, 
price  63J. 

The  Report  from  above,  separately 
sewed,  price  21J. 


BROWN  (Rev.  J.  Baldwin). 
The  Higher  Life.  Its  Reality, 

Experience,  and  Destiny.  Fifth  and 
Cheaper  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

Doctrine  of  Annihilation 
in  the  Light  of  the  Gospel 
of  Love.  Five  Discourses.  Third 
Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
IS.  6d. 

The    Christian     Policy    of 

Life.     A  Book  for  Young   Men  of 
Business.  New  and  Cheaper  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 
BROWN  a-  Croumbie),   LL.D. 
Reboisement  in  France;  or, 

Records  of  the  Replanting  of  the 
Alps,  the  Cevennes,  and  the  PjTe- 
nees  with  Trees,  Herbage,  and  Bush. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  12s.  6d. 

The  Hydrology  of  Southern 

Africa.      Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price 
10s.  6d. 
BROWNE  (W.  R.). 
The     Inspiration     of    the 

New  Testament.  With  a  Preface 
by  the  Rev.  J.  P.  Norris,  D.D. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

BRYANT  (W.  C.) 
Poems.       Red-line    Edition. 

With  24  Illustrations  and  Portrait  of 
the  Author.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth  extra, 
price  7s.  6d. 

A  Cheaper  Edition,  with  Frontis- 
piece. Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
2S.  6d. 

BURCKHARDT  (Jacob). 
The  Civilization  of  the  Pe- 
riod of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy. 
Authorized  translation,  bj'  S.  G.  C. 
Middlemore.  2  vols.  Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  24^^. 

BURTON  (Mrs.  Richard). 
The  Inner  Life  of  Syria, 
Palestine,  and  the  Holy  Land. 
With  Maps,  Photographs,  and 
Coloured  Plates.  2  vols.  Second 
Edition.  DemySvo.  Cloth,  price  24^. 
%*  Also  a  Cheaper  Edition  in 
one  volume.  Large  post  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  10s.  6d. 

BURTON  (Capt.  Richard  F.). 
The  Gold  Mines  of  Midian 
and      the     Ruined      Midianite 
Cities.     A     Fortnight's    Tour     in 


A  List  of 


BURTON  (Capt.    Richard    F.)- 

contbmed. 

Nerth  Western  Arabia.  With  nu- 
merous Illustrations.  Second  Edi- 
tion.    Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  i8.y. 

The  Land  of  Midian  Re- 
visited. With  numerous  Illustra- 
tions on  wood  and  by  Chromo- 
lithography.  2  vols.  Demy  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  325. 

BUSBECQ  (Ogier  Ghiselin  de). 
His  Life  and  Letters.     By 

Charles  Thornton  Forster,  M.D. 
and  F.  H.  Blackburne  Daniell,  M.D. 
2  vols.  With  Frontispieces.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  24^. 

BUTLER  (Alfred  J.). 
Amaranth    and   Asphodel. 

Songs  from  the  Greek  Anthology.— 
I.  Songs  of  the  Love  of  Women. 
IL  Songs  of  the  Love  of  Nature. 
III.  Songs  of  Death.  IV.  Songs  of 
Hereafter.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  ■zs. 

BYRNNE(E.  Fairfax). 
Milicent.     A  Poem.     Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

CALDERON. 

Calderon's    Dramas :     The 

Wonder- Working  Magician — Life  is 
a  Dream — The  Purgatory  of  St. 
Patrick.  Translated  by  Denis 
Florence  MacCarthy.  Post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  ioj. 
CANDLER  (H.). 
The  Groundwork  of  Belief. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  7^. 
CARPENTER  (W.  B.),  M.D. 
The  Principles  of  Mental 

Physiology.  With  their  Applica- 
tions to  the  Training  and  Discipline 
of  the  Mind,  and  the  Study  of  its 
Morbid  Conditions.  Illustrated. 
Fifth  Edition.  Svo.  Cloth,  price  \is. 
CARPENTER  (Dr.  Philip  P.). 
His  Life  and  Work.  Edited 
by  his  brother,  Russell  Lant  Car- 
penter. With  portrait  and  vignette. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  75.  td. 

CAVALRY   OFFICER. 
Notes  on  Cavalry  Tactics, 
Organization,    &c.      With    Dia- 
grams    Demy  Svo.    Cloth,  price  1 2*. 


CERVANTES. 
The  Ingenious  Knight  Don 
Quixote  de  la  Mancha.     A  New 

Translation  from  the  Originals  of 
1605  and  1608.  By  A.  J.  Duffield. 
With  Notes.  3  vols,  demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  425. 

CHAPMAN  (Hon.  Mrs.  E.  W.). 
A  Constant  Heart.  A  Story. 

2  vols.     Cloth,  gilt  tops,  price  i2j. 
CHEYNE  (Rev.T.  K.). 
The  Prophecies  of  Isaiah. 

Translated,  with  Critical  Notes  and 
Dissertations  by.  Two  vols.,  demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  25.?. 

Children's    Toys,    and    some 

Elementary  Lessons  in  General 
Knowledge  which  they  teach.  Illus- 
trated.   Crown  Svo.    Cloth,  price  5^. 

Clairaut's        Elements        of 

Geometry.  Translated  by  Dr. 
Kaines,  with  145  figures.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  4^-.  6c/„ 

CLARKE  (Mary  Cowden). 
Honey    from     the    Weed. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  -js. 

CLAYDEN  (P.  V7.). 
England  under  Lord  Bea- 

consfield.  The  Political  History  of 
the  Last  Six  Years,  from  the  end  of 
1873  to  the  beginning  of  1880.  Se- 
cond Edition.  With  Index,  and 
Continuation  to  March,  1880.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  i6j. 

CLERY(C.),  Lieut.-Col. 
Minor    Tactics.      With    26 

Maps  and  Plans.  Fifth  and  Revised 
Edition.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  x6s. 

CLODD  (Edward),  F.R.A.S. 
The      Childhood     of      the 
World  :  a  Simple  Account  of  Man 
in    Early    Times.      Sixth    Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  35. 

A    Special   Edition    for    Schools. 
Price  IS. 

The  Childhood  of  Reli- 
gions. Including  a  Simple  Account 
of  the  Birth  and  Growth  of  Myths 
and  Legends.  Third  Thousand. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

A    Special    Edition    for    Schools 
Price  \s.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paid  ^  Co.^s  Publications, 


CLODD    (Edward),     F.R.A.S.— 

cantinucd. 

Jesus  of  Nazareth.  With  a 
brief  Sketch  of  Jewish  History  to 
the  Time  of  His  Birth.  Small 
crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

COGHLAN  (J.  Cole),  D.D. 
The  Modern  Pharisee  and 
other  Sermons.  Edited  by  the 
Very  Rev.  A.  H.  Dickinson,  D.D., 
Dean  of  Chapel  Royal,  Dublin.  New 
and  cheaper  edition.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  7^.  6d. 

COLERIDGE  (Sara). 

Pretty   Lessons    in    Verse 

for  Good  Children,  with  some 
Lessons  in  Latin,  in  Easy  Rhjnne. 
A  New  Edition.  Illustrated.  Fcap. 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  ^s.  6d. 

Phantasmion.  A  Fairy  Tale. 
With  an  Introductory  Preface  by  the 
Right  Hon.  Lord  Coleridge,  of 
Ottery  St.  Mary.  A  New  Edition. 
Illustrated.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  7 J.  6d. 

Memoir  and  Letters  of  Sara 

Coleridge.  Edited  by  her  Daughter. 
Cheap  Edition.     With  one  Portrait. 
Cloth,  price  7s.  6d. 
COLLINS  (Mortimer). 
The  Secret  of  Long  Life. 

Small  crown  Svo.   Cloth,  price  3.^.  6d. 

Inn   of  Strange   Meetings, 

and    other    Poems.     Crown  Svo. 

Cloth,  price  ^s. 
COLOMB(Colonel\ 

The  Cardinal  Archbishop. 

A   Spanish    Legend   in   twenty-nine 

Cancions.    Small  crown  Svo.    Cloth, 

price  5.y. 
CONNELL  (A.  K.). 

Discontent  and  Danger  in 

India.     Small  crown   Svo.      Cloth, 

price  3.r.  6d. 
CONWAY  (Hugh). 

A  Life's  Idylls.   Small  crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 
COOKE  (Prof.  J.  P.) 

Scientific   Culture.     Crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  is. 
COOPER  (H.  J.). 
The   Art  of  Furnishing  on 
Rational    and    i^sthetic    Prin- 
ciples.    New  and  Cheaper  Edition. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 


COPPEE  (Fran5ois). 

L'Exilee.    Done  into  English 

Verse  with  the  sanction  of  the  Author 

by  I.  O.   L.     Crown  Svo.     Vellum, 

price  5J. 
CORFIELD  (Prof.),  M.D. 

Health.    Crown  Svo.     Cloth, 

price  6s. 
CORY  (William). 

A  Guide  to  Modern  Eng- 

Hsh  History.  Part  I.  MDCCCXV. 
— MDCCCXXX.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  gs. 

COURTNEY  (W.  L  ). 
The  Metaphysics  of  John 
Stuart  Mill.     Crown  Svo.     Cloth, 
price  ss.  6d. 

COWAN  (Rev.  William). 
Poems  :    Chiefly  Sacred,  in- 
cluding   Translations     from    some 
Ancient  Latin  Hymns.     Fcap.  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5s. 

COX  (Rev.  Sir  G.  W.),  Bart. 
A  History  of  Greece  from 

the  Earliest  Period  to  the  end  of  the 
Persian  War.  New  Edition,  a  vols. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  36J. 

The  Mythology  of  the 
Aryan  Nations.  New  Edition.  2 
vols.     Demy  Svo.     Qoth,  price  aSf. 

A  General  History  of  Greece 

from  the  Earliest  Period  to  the  Death 
of  Alexander  the  Great(^  with  a  sketch 
of  the  subsequent  History  to  the 
present  time.  New  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  7^.  6d. 

Tales   of  Ancient  Greece, 

New  Edition.  Small  crown  Svo 
Cloth,  price  6s. 

School  History  of  Greece. 

With  Maps.  New  Edition.  Fcap 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

The    Great    Persian    War 

from  the  Histories  of  Herodotus. 
New  Edition.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  6d. 

A   Manual    of    Mythology 

in  the  form  of  Question  and  Answer 
New  Edition.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J. 

An  Introduction  to  the 
Science  of  Comparative  My- 
thology and  Folk-Lore,  Large 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  gs. 


A  List  of 


cox    (Rev.    Sir    G.  W.),    Bart., 
M.A.,   and     EUSTACE   HIN- 
TON  JONES. 
Popular  Romances  of  the 

Middle  Ages.  Second  Edition  in 
one  volume.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

COX  (Rev.  Samuel). 
A  Commentary  on  the  Book 
of  Job.    With  a  Translation.   Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  15J. 

Salvator     Mundi  ;     or,    Is 

Christ  the  Saviour  of  all  Men?  Sixth 
Edition.  Crown  8 vo.  Cloth,  price  5^. 

The  Genesis   of  Evil,   and 

other  Sermons,  mainly  Expository. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

CRAUFURD(A.  H.). 

Seeking  for  Light :  Sermons. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 
CRAVEN  (Mrs.). 

A       Year's       Meditations. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6^. 
CRAWFORD  (Oswald). 
Portugal,    Old    and    New. 

With  Illustrations  and  Maps.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  i6s. 

CRESSWELL  (Mrs.  G.). 
The  King's  Banner.   Drama 

in  Four  Acts.  Five  Illustrations. 
4to.     Cloth,  price  10s.  6d. 

CROZIER  (John  Beattie),  M.B. 
The  Religion  of  the  Future. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

DALTON   (John    Neale),    M.A., 
R.N. 
Sermons  to  Naval  Cadets. 

Preached  on  board  H.M.S.  "Bri- 
tannia." Second  Edition.  Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3.?.  6d. 

D'ANVERS(N.  R.), 
Parted.      A   Tale   of  Clouds 
and  Sunshine.     With  ^  Illustrations. 
Extra  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  price  ^s.  6d. 

Little    Minnie's   Troubles. 

An  Every-day  Chronicle.  With  Four 
Illustrations  by  W.  H.  Hughes. 
Fcap.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 


D'ANVERS  (N.  'K)—cotitinued. 
Pixie's  Adventures  ;  or,  the 

Tale  of  a  Terrier.  With  21  Illustra- 
tions.    i6mo.     Cloth,  price  4^.  6d. 

Nanny's   Adventures;    or, 

the  Tale  of  a  Goat.  With  12  Illus- 
trations.  i6mo.    Cloth,  price  45.  6d. 

DAVIDSON(Rev.  Samuel),  D.D., 
LL.D. 

The  New  Testament,  trans- 
lated from  the  Latest  Greek 
Text  of  Tischendorf.  A  New  and 
thoroughly  Revised  Edition.  Post 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  \os.  6d. 

Canon   of   the    Bible  :    Its 

Formationj  History,  and  Fluctua- 
tions. Third  Edition,  revised  and 
enlarged.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

DAVIES  (G.  Christopher). 
Rambles  and    Adventures 
of  Our  School  Field  Club.    With 
Four     Illustrations.       Crown    Svo. 
Cloth,  price  ^s. 

DAVIES  (Rev.  J.  L.),  M.A. 
Theology    and     Morality. 

Essays  on  Questions  of  Belief  and 
Practice,  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
IS.  6d. 

DAVIES  (T.  Hart.). 
Catullus.      Translated     into 
English  Verse.     Crown  Svo.    Clsth, 
price  6s. 

DAWSON  (George),  M.A. 
Prayers,  with  a  Discourse 
on   Prayer.     Edited  by  his  Wife. 
Fifth  Edition,   Crown  Svo.    Price  6s. 

Sermons  on  Disputed 
Points   and  Special  Occasions. 

Edited  by  his  Wife.  Third  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

Sermons  on  Daily  Life  and 

Duty.   Edited  by  his  Wife.    Second 
Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  ei'. 
DE  L'HOSTE  (Col.  E.  P.). 
The   Desert    Pastor,  Jean 

Jarousseau.  Translated  from  the 
French  of  Eugene  Pelletan.  With  a 
Frontispiece.  New  Edition.  Fcap. 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  Go's  Publications. 


DE       REDCLIFFE      (Viscount 
Stratford),  P.C,  K.G.,  G.C.B. 
Why    am    I    a    Christian  ? 
Fifth  Edition.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth, 
price  3J. 

DESPREZ  (Philip  S.). 
Daniel  and  John ;    or,  the 

Apocalypse  of  the  Old  and  that  of 
the  New  Testament.  Demy  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  12s. 

DE  TOCQUEVILLE  (A.). 

Correspondence  and  Con- 
versations of,  with  Nassau  Wil- 
liam Senior,  from  1834  to  1859, 
Edited  by  M.  C.  M.  Simpson.  2 
vols.     Post  8vo.     Cloth,  price  21*. 

DEVERE  (Aubrey). 
Legends     of     the     Saxon 
Saints.    Small  crown  8vo.    Cloth, 
price  6s. 

Alexander    the    Great.     A 

Dramatic  Poem.  Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  5^. 

The     Infant     Bridal,    and 

other  Poems.  A  New  and  En- 
larged Edition.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  75.  6d. 

The  Legends  of  St.  Patrick, 

and  other  Poems.  Small  crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury. 

A  Dramatic  Poem.  Large  fcap.  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  5s. 

Antar  and  Zara  :  an  Eastern 
Romance.  Inisfail,  and  other 
Poems,  Meditative  and  Lyrical. 
Fcap.  8vo.     Price  6s. 

The  Fall  of  Rora,  the 
Search  after  Proserpine,  and 
other  Poems,  Meditative  and  Lyrical. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Price  6s. 

DOBELL(Mrs.  Horace). 

Ethelstone,    Eveline,    and 

other  Poems.   Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 

price  6s. 
DOBSON  (Austin). 

Vignettes   in    Rhyme   and 

Vers  de  Societe.  Third  Edition. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

Proverbs  in  Porcelain.     By 

the  Author  of"  Vignettes  in  Rhyme." 
Second  Edition.     Crown  Svo.    6s. 


Dorothy.      A    Country    Story 

in  Elegiac  Verse.  With  Preface. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55-. 

DOWDEN  (Edward),  LL.D. 

Shakspere:  a  Critical  Study 

of  his  Mind  and  Art.  Fifth  Edition. 
L<trge  post  Svo.     Cloth,  price  i2j. 

Studies  in  Literature,  1789. 

1877.  Large  post  Svo.  Cloth,  price 1 2 j. 

Poems.  Seoond  Edition. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

DOWNTON  (Rev.  H.),  M.A. 
Hymns  and  Verses.    Ori- 
ginal and  Translated.     Small  crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

DREWRY(G.  O.),  M.D. 
The      Common-Sense 
Management  of  the  Stomach. 

Fifth  Edition.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  2S.  6d. 

DREWRY  (G.  O.),  M.D.,  and 
BARTLETT  (H.  C),  Ph.D., 
F.C.S. 

Cup  and  Platter :  or,  Notes 

on  Food  and  its  Effects.  New  and 
cheaper  Edition.  Small  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  \s.  6d. 

DRUMMOND(Miss). 
Tripps  Buildings.    A  Study 
from  Life,  with  Frontispiece.    Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

DUFFIELD  (A.  J.). 
Don  Quixote.  His  Critics 
and  Commentators.  With  a  Brief 
Account  of  the  Minor  Works  of  Mi- 
guel de  Cervantes  Saavedra,  and  a 
statement  of  the  end  and  aim  of  the 
greatest  of  them  all.  A  Handy  Book 
for  General  Readers.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

DU    MONCEL  (Count). 
The  Telephone,  the  Micro- 
phone,   and    the    Phonograph. 
With  74  Illustrations.     Small  crown 
Svo.    Cloth,  price  5J. 

DUTT  (Toru). 
A  Sheaf  Gleaned  in  French 

Fields.  New  Edition,  with  Portrait. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  105.  6d. 
A  2 


lO 


A  List  of 


DU  VERNOIS  (Col.  von  Verdy). 
Studies  in  leading  Troops. 

An  authorized  and  accurate  Trans- 
lation by  Lieutenant  H.  J.  T. 
Hildyard,  ytst  Foot.  Parts  I.  and 
II.     Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  75. 

EDEN  (Frederick). 
The     Nile     without     a 
Dragoman.         Second      Edition. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  ^s.  td. 

EDGEWORTH(F.  Y.). 
Mathematical  Psychics:  an 

Essay  on  the  Application  of  Mathe- 
matics to  Social  Science.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  7^.  dd. 

EDIS  (Robert  W.). 
Decoration  and  Furniture 
of  Town  Houses.  A  series  of 
Cantor  Lectures  delivered  before  the 
Society  of  Arts,  1880.  Amplified 
and  enlarged,  with  29  full-page  Illus- 
trations and  numerous  sketches. 
Second  Edition.  Square  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  1 2 J.  bd. 

EDMONDS  (Herbert). 
Well  Spent  Lives  :  a  Series 
of  Modem  Biographies.   Crown  Svo 
Price  55. 

Educational  Code  of  the 
Prussian  Nation,  in  its  Present 
Form.  In  accordance  with  the 
Decisions  of  the  Common  Provincial 
Law,  and  with  those  of  Recent 
Legislation.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  25.  td. 

EDWARDS  (Rev.  Basil). 

Minor   Chords;  or,  Songs 

for  the  Suffering :    a  Volume  of 
Verse.      Fcap.    Svo.      Cloth,    price 
3J.  td. ;  paper,  price  2J.  td. 
ELLIOT  (Lady  Charlotte). 
Medusa  and  other  Poems. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6j. 
ELLIOTT  (Ebenezer),  The  Corn- 
Law  Rhymer. 
Poems.     Edited  by  his  Son, 

the  Rev.  Edwin  Elliott,  of  St.  John's, 
Antigua.    2  vols.   Crown  Svo.   Cloth, 
price  1 8 J. 
ELSDALE  (Henry). 

Studies      in     Tennyson's 

Idylls.    Crown  Svo.   Cloth,  price  s^. 


ELYOT  (Sir  Thomas). 
The  Boke  named  the  Go- 

uernour.  Edited  from  the  First  Edi- 
tion of  1531  by  Henry  Herbert  Ste- 
phen Croft,  M.A.,  Barrister-at-Law. 
With  Portraits  of  Sir  Thomas  and 
Lady  Elyot,  copied  by  permission  of 
her  Majesty  from  Holbein's  Original 
Drawings  at  Windsor  Castle.  2  vols, 
fcap.  4to.    Cloth,  price  505. 

Epic  of  Hades  (The). 

By  the  author  of  "  Songs  of  Two 
Worlds."  Twelfth  Edition.  Fcap. 
Svo.  Cloth,  price  75.  dd. 
*^  Also  an  Illustrated  Edition  with 
seventeen  full-page  designs  in  photo- 
mezzotint  by  George  R.  Chapman. 
4to.  Cloth,  extra  gilt  leaves, price  25^, 
and  a  Large  Paper  Edition,  with 
portrait,  price  loj.  dd. 

EVANS  (Anne). 
Poems   and   Music.     With 

Memorial  Preface  by  Ann  Thackeray 
Ritchie.  Large  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  75.  dd. 

EVANS  (Mark). 

The  Gospel  of  Home  Life. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  45.  6rf. 

The  Story  of  our  Father's 

Love,  told  to  Children.  Fourth 
and  Cheaper  Edition.  With  Four 
Illustrations.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  IS.  6d. 

A  Book  of  Common  Prayer 
and  Worship  for  Household 
Use,  compiled  exclusively  from  the 
Holy  Scriptures.  New  and  Cheaper 
Edition.    Fcap.  Svo.    Cloth,  price  is. 

The    King's    Story   Book. 

In  three  parts.     Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth, 

price  T.S.  6d.  each. 

*,(*  Parts  I.  and  II.,  with  eight[illus- 

trations  and  two  Picture  Maps,  now 

ready. 

EX-CIVILIAN. 
Life  in  the   Mofussil;    or, 

Civilian  Life  in  Lower  Bengal.  2 
vols.     Large  post  Svo.     Price  14*. 

FARQUHARSON  (M.). 

I.  Elsie  Dinsmore.     Crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  CoJs  PtMications. 


t\ 


FARQUHARSON  (M.)— C(^«- 

timicd. 

II.  Elsie's  Girlhood.  Crown 

8vo.     Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

III.  Elsie's  Holidays  at 
Roselands.        Crown     8vo. 

Cloth,  price  35-.  6<f. 
FELKIN  (H.  M.). 
Technical  Education  in  a 
Saxon  Town.  Published  for  the 
City  and  Guilds  of  London  Institute 
for  the  Advancement  of  Technical 
Education.    Demy  8vo.    Cloth,  price 

FIELD  (Horace),  B.A.   Lond. 
The  Ultimate  Triumph  of 
Christianity,      Small   crown   8vo. 
Cloth,  price  35-.  td. 

FINN  (the  late  James),  M.R.A.S. 
Stirring  Times ;  or,  Records 
from  Jerusalem  Consular  Chronicles 
of  1853  to  1856.  Edited  and  Com- 
piled by  his  Widow.  With  a  Preface 
by  the  Viscountess  Strangford. 
2  vols.     Demy  8vo.     Price  30J. 

FLOREDICE  (W.  H.). 
A  Month  among  the  Mere 
Irish.     Small   crown    8vo.      Cloth, 
price  5i-. 

Folkestone       Ritual      Case 

(The).  The  Argument,  Proceedings 
Judgment,  and  Report,  revised  by 
the  several  Counsel  engaged.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  25J. 

FORMBY  (Rev.  Henry). 
Ancient  Rome  and  its  Con- 
nection with  the  Christian  Re- 
ligion :  an  Outline  of  the  History;  of 
tho  City  from  its  First  Foundation 
down  to  the  Erection  of  the  Chair 
of  St.  Peter,  a.d.  42-47.  With 
numerous  Illustrations  of  Ancient 
Monuments,  Sculpture,  and  Coinage, 
and  of  the  Antiquities  of  the  Chris- 
tian Catacombs.  Royal  4to.  Cloth 
extra,  price  say.  Roxburgh,  half- 
morocco,  price  52J.  dd. 

FOWLE  (Rev.  T.  W.),  M.A. 
The  Reconciliation  of  Re- 
ligion and  Science.  Being  Essays 
on  Immortality,  Inspiration,  Mira- 
cles, and  the  Being  of  Christ.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  \os.  6d. 

The  Divine  Legation  of 
Christ.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  7*. 


FRASER  (Donald). 
Exchange  Tables  of  Ster- 
ling and  Indian  Rupee  Cur- 
rency, upon  a  new  and  extended  sys- 
tem, embracing  Values  from  One 
Farthing  to  One  Hundred  Thousand 
Pounds,  and  at  Rates  progressing,  in 
Sixteenths  of  a  Penny,  from  is.  gd.  to 
2s.  3^/.  per  Rupee.  Royal  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  loj.  6d. 

FRISWELL  (J.   Hain). 
The  Better  Self.     Essays  for 
Home   Life.      Crown  Svo.       Cloth, 
price  6s. 

One  of  Two;   or,  A  Left- 

Handed   Bride.     With  a  Frontis- 
piece. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  3J.  6d, 

GARDINER  (Samuel  R.)andJ. 
BASS  MULLINGER,  M.A. 
Introduction  to  the  Study 
of  English  Hiitory.    Largecrown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  gs. 

GARDNER  (J.),  M.D. 
Longevity:  The  Means  of 
Prolonging  Life  after  Middle 
Age.  Fourth  Edition,  Revised  and 
Enlarged.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  \s. 

GARRETT  (E.). 
By  Still  Waters.     A  Story 

for  Quiet  Hours.  With  Seven  Illus- 
trations. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  6s. 
GEBLER  (Karl  Von). 
Galileo  Galilei  and  the 
Roman  Curia,  from  Authentic 
Sources.  Translated  with  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  Author,  by  Mrs.  Georgk 
Sturgk.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  i2j. 

GEDDES  (James). 
History  of  the  Administra- 
tion of  John  de  Witt,  Grand  Pen- 
sionary of  Holland.  Vol.  I.  1623 — 
1654.  Demy  Svo.,  with  Portrait. 
Cloth,  price  15J. 

GEORGE  (Henry). 
Progress  and  Poverty.     An 

Inquirj^  into  the  Cause  of  Industrial 
Depressions  and  of  Increase  of  Want 
with  Increase  of  Wealth.  The  Re- 
medy. Post  Svo.  Cloth,  price  7*.  6d. 
GILBERT   (Mrs.). 

Autobiography   and    other 
Memorials.       Edited    by   Josiah 


A  List  of 


GILBERT  {M.rs.)~continued. 

Gilbert.  Third  Edition.  With  Por- 
trait and  several  Wood  Engravings. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  ^s.  6d. 

GLOVER  (F.),  M.A. 
Exempla  Latina.     A  First 

Construing  Book  with  Short  Notes, 
Lexicon,  and  an  Introduction  to  the 
Analysis  of  Sentences.  Fcap.  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  2S, 

GODWIN  (William). 
William  Godwin:  His 
Friends  and  Contemporaries. 
With  Portraits  and  Facsimiles  of  the 
handwriting  of  Godwin  and  his  Wife. 
By  C.  Kegan  Paul.  2  vols.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  zSs. 

The  Genius  of  Christianity 

Unveiled.  Being  Essays  never 
before  published.  Edited,  with  a 
Preface,  by  C.  Kegan  Paul.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  7s.  6d. 

GOETZE  (Capt.  A.  von). 
Operations  of  the  German 
Engineers  during  the  W^ar  of 
1870- 1871.  Published  by  Authority, 
and  in  accordance  with  Official  Docu- 
ments. Translated  from  the  German 
by  Colonel  G.  Graham,  V.C,  C.B., 
R.E.  With  6  large  Maps.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  21s. 

GOLDSMIDCSirFrancis  Henry). 
Memoir  of.  With  Portrait. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

GOODENOUGH  (Commodore  J. 
G.),    R.N.,C.B.,C.M.G. 
Memoir  of,  with  Extracts  from 

his  Letters  and  Journals.  Edited  by 
his  Widow.  With  Steel  Engraved 
Portrait.     Square  Svo.     Cloth,  5J. 

%*  Also  a  Library  Edition  with 
Maps,  Woodcuts,  and  Steel  En- 
graved Portrait.  Square  post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  14s. 
GOSSE  (Edmund  W.). 
Studies  in  the  Literature  of 
Northern  Europe.  With  a  Frontis- 
piece designed  and  etched  by  Alma 
Tadema.  Large  post  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  I2S. 

New   Poems.      Crown   Svo. 

Cloth,  price  7^.  6d. 


GOULD  (Rev.  S.  Baring),  M.A. 
Germany,  Present  and  Past. 

2  Vols.    Demy  Svo.    Cloth,  price  21s. 

The  Vicar  of  Morwenstow: 

a  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  R.  S.  Hawker. 
^Vith  Portrait.  Thu-d  Edition,  re- 
vised. Square  post  Svo.  Cloth,  los.  6d, 

GRAHAM  (William),  M.A. 
The  Creed  of  Science  :  Re- 
ligious, Moral,  and  Social.     Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  12s. 

GREENOUGH  (Mrs.  Richard). 
Mary  Magdalene  :  APoem. 

Large  post  Svo.  Parchment  antique, 
price  6s. 

GRIFFITH  (Thomas),  A.M. 
The  Gospel  of  the  Divine 

Life.  A  Study  of  the  Fourth  Evan- 
gelist.  Demy  Svo.    Cloth,  price  14s. 

GRIMLEY  (Rev.  H.  N.),  M.A. 
Tremadoc  Sermons,  chiefly 
on  the  Spiritual  Body,  the  Unseen 
World,  and  the  Divine  Humanity. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

GRUNER(M.  L.). 

Studies  of  Blast  Furnace 

Phenomena.  Translated  by  L.  D. 
B.  Gordon,  F.R.S.E.,  F.G.S.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  7J.  6d. 

GURNEY(Rev.  Archer). 
Words  of  Faith  and  Cheer. 

A  Mission  of  Instruction  and  Sugges- 
tion.    Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

Gwen  :  A  Drama  in  Mono- 
logue. By  the  Author  of  the  "  Epic 
of  Hades."  Second  Edition.  Fcap. 
Svo.    Cloth,  price  5^. 

HAECKEL  (Prof.  Ernst). 
The   History  of  Creation. 

Translation  revised  by  Professor  E. 
Ray  Lankester,  M.A.,  F.R.S.  With 
Coloured  Plates  and  Genealogical 
Trees  of  the  various  groups  of  both 
plants  and  animals.  2  vols.  Second 
Edition.    Post  Svo.    Cloth,  price  32J. 

The  History  of  the  Evolu- 
tion of  Man.  With  numerous  Il- 
lustrations. 2  vols.  Large  post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  32J. 

Freedom   in    Science    and 

Teaching.     From  the  German  of 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &»  Co.^s  Puhlications. 


13 


HAECKEL    (Prof.    Ernst)— rc>«- 
tinued. 

Ernst  Haeckel,  with  a  Prefatory 
Note  by  T.  H.  Huxley,  F.R.S. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

HALF-CROWN  SERIES. 
Sister    Dora :    a   Biography. 
By  Margaret  Lonsdale. 

True  Words  for  Brave  Men. 

A  Book  for  Soldiers  and  Sailors.  By 
the  late  Charles  Kingsley. 

An  Inland  Voyage.     By  R. 

L.  Stevenson. 

Travels  with  a  Donkey.  By 

R.  L.  Stevenson. 

A  Nook  in  the  Apennines. 

By  Leader  Scott. 

Notes    of    Travel.      Being 

Extracts  from  the  Journals  of  Count 
Von  Moltke. 

Letters  from    Russia.     By 

Count  Von  Moltke. 
English  Sonnets.    Collected 
and  Arranged  by  J.  Dennis. 
Lyrics  of  Love  from  Shake- 
speare  to    Tennyson.     Selected 
and  Arranged  by  W.  D.  Adams. 

London  Lyrics.     By  Frede- 
rick Locker. 
Home     Songs     for    Quiet 

Hours.  By  the  Rev.  Canon  R.  H. 
Baynes. 

Halleck's    International 

Law ;  or,  Rules  Regulating  the 
Intercourse  of  States  in  Peace  and 
War.  A  New  Edition,  revised,  with 
Notes  and  Cases.  By  Sir  Sherston 
Baker,  Bart.  2  vols.  Demy  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  385. 
HARDY  (Thomas). 
A  Pair  of  Blue  Eyes.    New 

Edition.  With  Frontispiece.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  6j. 

The  Return  of  the  Native. 

New  Edition.  With  Frontispiece. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  i>s. 

HARRISON  (Lieut. -Col.  R.). 
The     Officer's     Memoran- 
dum Book  for  Peace  and  War. 
Third  Edition.    Oblong  32mo.  roan, 
with  pencil,  price  y.  td. 


HARTINGTON  (The  Right  Hon. 
the  Marquis  of),  M.P. 
Election  Speeches  in  1879 
and  1880.  With  Address  to  the 
Electors  of  North-East  Lancashire. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

HAWEIS  (Rev.  H.  R.),  M.A. 
Arrows  in  the  Air.     Crown 

8vo.  Second  Edition.  Cloth,  price  6s. 
Current  Coin.  Materialism — 
The  Devil — Crime — Drunkenness — 
Pauperism — Emotion^Recreation — 
The  Sabbath.  Third  Edition.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

Speech  in  Season.      Fourth 

Edition.  Crown  Svo.   Cloth,  price  gs. 

Thoughts    for   the   Times. 

Eleventh  Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  -js.  6d. 

Unsectarian  Family 
Prayers.  New  and  Cheaper  Edition. 
Fcap.  Svo.    Cloth,  price  li.  6d. 

HAWKER  (Robert  Stephen). 
The    Poetical    Works    of. 

Now  first  collected  and  arranged 
with  a  prefatory  notice  by  J.  G. 
Godwin.  With  Portrait.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  \is. 

HAWKINS  (Edwards  Comer- 
iord). 

Spirit  and  Form.  Sermons 
preached  in  the  parish  church  of 
Leatherhead.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

HAWTREY  (Edward  M.). 
Corydalis.     A   Story   of  the 
Sicilian   Expedition.      Small   crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  ^s.  6d. 

HAYES  (A.  H.). 
New     Colorado     and     the 
Santa  Fe  Trail.     With   map  and 
60  Illustrations.    Crown  Svo.   Cloth, 
price  gj. 

HEIDENHAIN  (Rudolf),  M.D. 
Animal  Magnetism.  Physi- 
ological Observations.  Translated 
from  the  Fourth  German  Edition, 
by  L.  C.  Wooldridge.  With  a  Pre- 
face by  G.  R.  Romanes,  F.R.S. 
Crown  8vo.     Clotlt,  price  2.S.  6d. 

HELLWALD   (Baron  F.  von). 
The   Russians   in    Central 
Asia.       A    Critical    Examination, 
down  to  the  present  time,   of   the 


u 


A  List  of 


HELLWALD    (Baron   F.   von)— 

continued. 

Geography  and  History  of  Central 
Asia.  Tran&lated  by  Lieut. -Col. 
Theodore  Wirgman,  LL.B.  Large 
post  8vo.  With  Map.  Cloth, 
price  I2.V. 
HELVIG  (Major  H.). 
The  Operations  of  the  Ba- 
varian Army  Corps.  Translated 
by  Captain  G.  S.  Schwabe.  With 
Five  large  Maps.  In  2  vols.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  24.?. 

Tactical  Examples  :  Vol.  I. 

The  Battalion,  price  15J.  Vol.  IL  The 
Regiment  and  Brigade,  price  lof .  6d. 
Translated  from  the  German  by  Col. 
Sir  Lumley  Graham.  With  numerous 
Diagrams.  Demy  8vo.  Cloth. 
HERFORD  (Brooke). 
The  Story  of  Religion  in 
England.  A  Book  for  Young  Folk. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

HINTON  (James). 
Life  and  Letters  of.     Edited 

by  Ellice  Hopkins,  with  an  Introduc- 
tion by  Sir  W.  W,  Gull,  Bart.,  and 
Portrait  engra\f  d  on  Steel  by  C.  H. 
Jeens.  Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  Bf.  6d. 

Chapters  on  the  Art  of 
Thinking,  and  other  Essays. 
With  an  Introduction  by  Shadworth 
Hodgson.  Edited  by  C.  H.  Hinton. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  8j.  6d. 

The  Place  of  the  Physician. 

To  which  is  added  Essays  on  thk 
Law  of  Human  Life,  and  on  thk 
Relation  between  Organic  and 
Inorganic  Worlds.  Second  Edi- 
tion-  Crown  Svo.    Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

Physiology    for     Practical 

Use.  By  various  Writers.  With  50 
lUuetrations.  Third  and  cheaper  edi- 
tion.    Crown  Svo.     Cloth,   price  5J. 

An  Atlas  of  Diseases  of  the 

Membrana  Tympani.  With  De- 
scriptive Text.  Post  Svo.  Price  ;^6  6j. 

The    Questions    of    Aural 

Surgery.  With  Illustrations.  2  vols. 
Post  Svo.    Cloth,  price  i2j.  6d. 

The      Mystery      of     Pain. 

New  Edition.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth 
limp,  \s. 


HOCKLEY  (W.    B.). 
Tales   of  the  Zenana ;  or, 

A  Nuwab's  Leisure  Hours.  By  the 
Author  of  "  Pandurang  Hari."  With 
a  Preface  by  Lord  Stanley  of  Alder- 
ley.  2  vols.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  21J. 

Pandurang  Hari;  or,  Me- 
moirs of  a  Hindoo.  A  Tale  of 
Mahratta  Life  sixty  years  ago.  With 
a  Preface  by  Sir  H.  Bartle  E. 
Frere,  G.  C-  S.  I.,  &c.  New  and 
Cheaper  Ecfition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 
HOFFBAUER  (Capt.). 
The  German  Artillery  in 
the  Battles  near  Metz.  Based 
on  the  official  reports  of  the  German 
Artillery.  Translated  by  Capt.  E. 
O.  Hollist.  With  Map  and  Plans. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  21^. 

HOLMES   (E.    Q.    A.). 
Poems.  First  and  Second  Se- 
ries. Fcap.  Svo.   Cloth,  prices  J.  each. 

HOOPER  (Mary). 
Little    Dinners:     How    to 
Serve  them  with  Elegance  and 
Economy.       Thirteenth     Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

Cookery  for  Invalids,  Per- 
sons of  Delicate  Digestion,  and 
Children.    Crown  Svo.    Cloth,  price 
2S.  6d. 
Every -Day  Meals.     Being 

Economical  and  Wholesome  Recipes 
for  Breakfast,  Luncheon,  and  Sup- 
per. Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5^. 

HOOPER  (Mrs.  G.). 
The  House  of  Raby.     With 

a  Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3^.  6d. 

HOPKINS  (Ellice). 
Life  and  Letters  of  James 

Hinton,  with  an  Introduction  by  Sir 
W.  W.  Gull,  Bart.,  and  Portrait  en- 
graved on  Steel  by  C.  H.  Jeens. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth 
price  8j.  6d. 

HOPKINS  (M.). 
The    Port   of  Refuge;    or, 

Counsel  and  Aid  to  Shipmasters  in 
Difficulty,  Doubt,  or  Distress.  Crown 
Svo.  Second  and  Rsvised  Edition. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  Co.^s  Ptcblications. 


15 


HORNER  (The  Misses). 
Walks  in  Florence.   A  New 

and  thoroughly  Revised  Edition.  2 
vols.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth  limp.  With 
Illustrations. 

Vol.  I.— Churches,  Streets,  and 
Palaces.  loy.  6^.  Vol.  II.— Public 
Galleries  and  Museums.     5^. 

Household      Readings      on 

Prophecy.  P)y  a  Layman.  Small 
crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  y.  6d. 

HULL  (Edmund  C.  P.). 
The  European  in  India. 
With  a  Medical  Guide  for  Anglo- 
Indians.  By  R.  R.  S.  Mair,  M.D., 
F.R.C.S.E.  Third  Edition,  Revised 
and  Corrected.  Post  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

HUTCHISON  (Lieut.-Col.  F.  J.), 
and  Capt.G.  H.  MACGREGOR. 
Military  Sketching  and  Re- 
connaissance. With  Fifteen  Plates. 
Second  edition.  Small  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

The  first  Volume  of  Military  Hand- 
books forRegimental  Officers.  Edited 
by  Lieut.-Col.  C.  B.  Brackenbury, 
R.A..  A.A.G. 

HUTTON  (Arthur),  M.A. 
The  Anglican  Ministry.  Its 
Nature  and  Value  in  relation  to  the 
Catholic  Priesthood.  With  a  Pre- 
face by  his  Eminence  Cardinal  New- 
man.    DemySvo.     Cloth,  price  145. 

INCHBOLD(J.  W.). 

Annus    Amoris.       Sonnets. 
Fcap.  8vo.     Cloth,  price  4,?.  6d. 
INGELOW  (Jean). 
Off  the  Skelligs.     A  Novel. 
With  Frontispiece.     Second  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6^. 

The    Little    Wonder-horn. 

A  Second  Series  of  "  Stories  Told  to 
a  Child."  With  Fifteen  Illustrations. 
Small  8vo.     Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

Indian    Bishoprics.       By  an 

Indian  Churchman.    Demy  8vo.  6d. 

International  Scientific 
Series  (The). 

I.  Forms  of  Water  :  A  Fami- 
liar Exposition  of  the  Origin  and 
Phenomena  of  Glaciers.  By  J. 
Tyndall,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.  With  25 
Illustrations.  Seventh  Edition.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  ^s. 


International  Scientific 
Series  {C^^€)— continued. 

II.  Physics    and   Politics  ;    or. 

Thoughts  on  the  Application  of  the 
Principles  of  "  Natural  Selection" 
and  "Inheritance"  to  Political  So 
ciety.  By  Walter  Bagehot.  Fifth 
Edition.   Crown  8vo.   Cloth,  price  4J. 

III.  Foods.  By  Edward  Smith, 
M.D.,  &c.  With  numerous  Illus- 
trations. Seventh  Edition.  Crown 
8vo.    Cloth,  price  55. 

IV.  Mind  and  Body:  The  Theo- 
ries of  their  Relation.  By  Alexander 
Bain,  LL.D.  With  Four  Illustra- 
tions. Tenth  Edition.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  \s. 

V.  The  Study  of  Sociology. 
By  Herbert  Spencer.  Tenth  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

VI.  On  the  Conservation  of 
Energy.  By  Balfour  Stewart, 
LL.D.,  &c.  With  14  Illustrations. 
Fifth  Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

VII.  Animal  Locomotion ;  or. 
Walking,  Swimming,  and  Flying. 
By  J.  B.  Pettigrew,  M.D.,  &c.  With 
130  Illustrations.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.   Cloth,  price  55. 

VIII.  Responsibility  in  Mental 
Disease.  By  Henry  Maudsley, 
M.  D.  Third  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5J. 

IX.  The  New  Chemistry.  By 
Professor  J.  P.  Cooke.  With  31  Illus- 
trations. Fifth  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5J. 

X.  The  Science  of  Law.  By 
Prof.  Sheldon  Amos.  Fourth  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

XI.  Animal  Mechanism.  A 
Treatise  on  Terrestrial  and  Aerial 
Locomotion.  By  Prof.  E.  J.  Marey. 
With  117  Illustrations.  Second 
Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  55. 

XII.  The   Doctrine  of  Descent 
and  Darwinism.     By  Prof.  Osca 
Schmidt.       With    26     Illustrations. 
Fourth  Edition.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth, 
price  55. 

XIII.  The  History  of  the  Con- 
flict between  Religion  and  Sci- 
ence. By  J.  W.  Draper,  M.D., 
LL.D.  Fifteenth  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 


i6 


A  List  of 


International   Scientific 

Series  (  The) — continued, 

XIV.  Fungi  ;  their  Nature,  In- 
fluences, Uses,  &c.  By  M.  C. 
Cooke,  LL.D.  Edited  by  the  Rev. 
M.  J.  Berkeley,  F.L.S.  With  nume- 
rous Illustrations.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

XV.  The  Chemical  Effects  of 
Light  and  Photography.  By  Dr, 
Hermann  Vogel.  With  100  Illustra- 
tions. Third  and  Revised  Edition. 
Crov/n  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

XVI.  The  Life  and  Growth  of 
Language.  By  Prof.  William 
Dwight  Whitney.  Third  Edition 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

XVII.  Money  and  the  Mecha- 
nism of  Exchange.  By  W.  Stan- 
ley Jevons,  F.R.S.  Fourth  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  55. 

XVIII.  The  Nature  of  Light: 
With  a  General  Account  of  Physical 
Optics.  By  Dr.  Eugene  Lommel. 
With  188  Illustrations  and  a  table  of 
Spectra  in  Chromo  -  lithography. 
Third  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

XIX.  Animal  Parasites  and 
Messmates.  By  M.  Van  Beneden. 
With  83  Illustrations.  Second  Edi- 
tion.   Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

XX.  Fermentation.  By  Prof. 
Schiitzenberger.  With  28  Illustra- 
tions. Third  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  55. 

XXI.  The  Five  Senses  of  Man. 
By  Prof.  Bernstein.  With  91  Illus- 
trations. Second  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

XXII.  The  Theory  of  Sound  in 
its  Relation  to  Music.  By  Prof. 
Pietro  Blaserna.  With  numerous 
Illustrations.  Second  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

XXIII.  Studies  in  Spectrum 
Analysis.  By.J.  Norman  Lockyer. 
F.R.S.  With  six  photographic  Il- 
lustrations of  Spectra,  and  numerous 
engravings  on  wood.  Crown  Svo. 
Second  Edition.  Cloth,  price  6.r.  dd. 

XXIV.  A  History  of  the  Growth 
of  the  Steam  Engine.  By  Prof. 
R.  H.  Thurston.  With  numerous 
Illustrations.  Second  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  6j.  dd. 

XXV.  Education  as  a  Science. 
By  Alexander  Bain,  LL.D.  Third 
Edition.  Crgwn  Svo.  Cloth,  price  5^. 


International    Scientific 
Series  {Th€)— continued. 

XXVI.  The  Human  Species. 
By  Prof.  A.  de  Quatrefages.  Third 
Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  5^. 

XXVII.  Modern  Chromatics. 
With  Applications  to  Art  and  Indus- 
try, by  Ogden  N.  Rood.  Second 
Edition.  With  130  original  Illustra- 
tions.    Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

XXVIII.  The  Crayfish  :  an  Intro- 
duction to  the  Study  of  Zoology.  By 
Prof.  T.  H.  Huxley.  Third  edition. 
With  eighty-two  Illustrations.  Crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

XXIX.  The  Brain  as  an  Organ 
of  Mind.  By  H.  Charlton  Bastian, 
M.D.  With  numerous  Illustrations. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  55. 

XXX.  The  Atomic  Theory.  By 
Prof.  Ad.  Wurtz.  Translated  by 
E.  Clemin-Shaw.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

XXXI.  The  Natural  Conditions 
of  Existence  as  they  affect  Ani- 
mal Life.  By  Karl  Semper.  Second 
Edition.   Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  5^. 

XXXII.  General  Physiology  of 
Muscles  and  Nerves.  By  Prof. 
J.Rosenthal.  Second  Edition,  with 
illustrations.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5^. 

XXXIII.  Sight:  an  Exposition 
of  the  Principles  of  Monocular 
and  Binocular  Vision.  By  Joseph 
Le  Conte,  LL.D.  With  132  Illustra- 
tions.   Crown  Svo.    Cloth,  price  55. 

XXXIV.  Illusions:  A  Psycho- 
logical Study.  By  James  Sully. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^-. 

XXXV.  Volcanoes  :  What  they 
are  and  What  they  Teach.  By 
Prof.  J.  W.  Judd,  F.R.S.  With  92 
Illustrations  on  Wood.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5.?. 

JENKINS  (E.)  and  RAYMOND 

The       Architect's       Legal 

Handbook.  Third  Edition  Re- 
vised. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  6s. 
JENKINS  (Rev.  R.  C),  M.A. 
The  Privilege  of  Peter  and 
the  Claims  of  the  Roman  Church 
confronted  with  the  Scriptures,  the 
Councils,  and  the  Testimony  of  the 
Popes  themselves.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &>  Co.^s  Publications. 


17 


JENNINGS  (Mrs.  Vaughan). 
Rahel  :  Her  Life  and  Let- 
ters.     With   a   Portrait    from    the 
Painting  by  Daffinger.     Square  post 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  yj.  (>d. 

Jeroveam's  Wife  and   other 

Poems.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
35.  bd. 

JOEL(L.). 
A   Consul's     Manual    and 

Shipowner's  and  Shipmaster's  Prac- 
tical Guide  in  their  Transactions 
Abroad .  With  Definitions  of  Nauti- 
cal, Mercantile,  and  Legal  Terms ; 
a  Glossary  of  Mercantile  Terms  in 
English,  French,  German,  Italian, 
and  Spanish.  Tables  of  the  Money, 
Weights,  and  Measures  of  the  Prin- 
cipal Commercial  Nations  and  their 
Equivalents  in  British  Standards  ; 
and  Forms  of  Consular  and  Notarial 
Acts.     Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  \7.s. 

JOHNSON  (Virginia  W.). 
The    Catskill    Mountains. 

Illustrated  by  Alfred  Fredericks. 
Cloth,  price  5^. 

JOHNSTONE  (C.  F.),  M.A. 
Historical  Abstracts.  Being 

Outlines  of  the  History  of  some  of 
the  less-known  States  of  Europe. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  75.  td. 

JONES  (Lucy). 

Puddings  and  Sweets.  Being 

Three  Hundred  and  Sixty-Five 
Receipts  approved  by  Experience. 
Crown  Svo.,  price  zs.  6d. 

JOYCE  (P.  W.),  LL.D.,  &c. 
Old       Celtic       Romances. 

Translated  from  the  Gaelic  by. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  -js.  6d. 

KAUFMANN  (Rev.  M.),  B.A. 
Utopias;    or,    Schemes   of 
Social    Improvement,    from    Sir 
Thomas  More  to  Karl  Marx.  Crown 
Svo.    Cloth,  price  5.?. 

Socialism :     Its    Nature,   its 

Dangers,  and  its  Remedies  con- 
sidered. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,price  -js.td, 

KAY  (Joseph),  M.A.,  Q.C. 
Free    Trade     in    Land. 

Edited  by  his  Widow.  With  Preface 
by  the  Right  Hon.  John  Bright, 
M.  P.  Sixth  Edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  51. 


KENT(Carolo). 
Carona  Catholica  ad  Petri 
successoris   Pedes   Oblata.     De 

Summi  Pontificis  Leonis  XIII.  As- 
sumptione  Epiggramma.  In  Quin- 
quaginta  Linguis.  Fcap.  4to.  Cloth, 
price  155. 

KER  (David). 
The  Boy  Slave  in  Bokhara. 

A  Tale  of  Central  Asia.  With  Illustra- 
tions. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

The    Wild    Horseman    of 

the  Pampas.  Illustrated.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  3.^.  6d. 

KERNER  (Dr.  A.),  Professor  of 
Botany  in  the  University  of 
Innsbruck. 

Flowers  andtheirUnbidden 

Guests.  Translation  edited  by  W. 
Ogle,  M.A.,  M.D.,  and  a  prefatory 
letter  by  C.  Darwin,  F.R.S.  With  Il- 
lustrations.   Sq.  Svo.    Cloth,  price  gs. 

KIDD  (Joseph),  M.D. 
The  Laws  of  Therapeutics, 

or,  the  Science  and  Art  of  Medicine. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

KINAHAN(G.  Henry), M.R.I. A., 
&c.,  of  her  Majesty's  Geological 
Survey. 
Manual  of  the  Geology  of 

Ireland.  With  8  Plates,  26  Wood- 
cuts, and  a  Map  of  Ireland,  geologi- 
cally coloured.  Square  Svo.  CloSi, 
price  1 5 J. 

KING  (Mrs.  Hamilton). 
The  Disciples.    Fourth  Edi- 
tion,    with     Portrait     and     Notes. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  js.  td. 

Aspromonte,     and      other 

Poems.  Second  Edition.  Fcap. 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  4.^.  td. 

KING  (Edward). 
Echoes    from    the  Orient. 

With  Miscellaneous  Poems.  Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

KINGSLEY  (Charles),  M.A. 
Letters   and    Memories  of 

his  Life.  Edited  by  his  Wife. 
With  2  Steel  engraved  Portraits  and 
numerous  Illustrations  on  Wood,  and 
a   Facsimile    of    his    Handwriting. 


i8 


A  List  of 


KINGSLEY     (Charles),     M.A.— 
continued. 

Thirteenth  Edition.  2  vols.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  36J. 

%*  Also  the  ninth  Cabinet  Edition 
in  2  vols.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
12  J. 

All  Saints'  Day  and  other 
Sermons.  Second  Edition.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  7^.  6d. 

True     Words     for     Brave 

Men:  a  Book  for  Soldiers'  and 
Sailors'  Libraries.  Eighth  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  ■zs.  6d. 

KNIGHT  (Professor  W.). 
Studies  in  Philosophy  and 
Literature.  Large  post  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  7^.  6d. 

KNOX  (Alexander  A.). 
The  New  Playground  :    or, 
"Wanderings  in  Algeria.     Large 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  10^.  6d. 

LACORDAIRE  (Rev.  Pere). 
Life :     Conferences    delivered 
at  Toulouse.     A  New  and  Cheaper 
Edition,  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,price3i.  6^. 

LAIRD-CLOWES  (W.). 
Love's  Rebellion :  a  Poem. 
Fcap.  8vo.     Cloth,  price  y.  6d. 

LAMO NT  (Martha  MacDonald). 
The  Gladiator :  A  Life  under 
the  Roman  Empire  in  the  beginning 
of  the  Third  Century.  With  four 
Illustrations  by  H.  M.  Paget.  Extra 
fcao.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

LANG  (A.). 
XXXII    Ballades   in    Blue 

China.    Elzevir.    Svo.   Parchment, 
price  55-. 
LAYMANN  (Capt.). 
The     Frontal     Attack     of 

Infantry.  Translated  by  Colonel 
Edward  Newdigate.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

LEANDER  (Richard). 
Fantastic  Stories.  Trans- 
lated from  the  German  by  Paulina 
B.  Granville.  With  Eight  full-page 
Illustrations  by  M.  E.  Fraser-Tytler. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

LEE  (Rev.   F.  G.),  D.C.L. 
The     Other     World;     or, 

Glimpses  of  the  Supernatural.  2  vols. 
A  New  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  15^. 


LEE  (Holme). 
Her   Title   of  Honour.     A 

Book  for  Girls.    New  Edition.    With 
a  Frontispiece.    Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  55. 
LEIGH  (Arran  and  Isla). 
Bellerophon.      Small   crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  ss. 
LEIGHTON  (Robert). 

Records  and  other  Poems. 

With  Portrait.      Small   crown   Svo. 

Cloth,  price  75.  td. 
LEWIS  (Edward  Dillon). 

A  Draft  Code  of  Criminal 

Law  and  Procedure.    Demy  8vo. 

Cloth,  price  21J. 
LEWIS  (Mary  A.). 

A  Rat  with  Three   Tales. 

New  and  cheaper  edition.  With 
Four  Illustrations  by  Catherine  F. 
Frere.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

LINDSAY(W.  Lauder),  M.D.,&c. 
Mind  in  the  Lower  Animals 
in  Health  and  Disease.  2  vols. 
Demy  Svo.      Cloth,  price  32.9. 

LLOYD  (Francis)  and  Charles 
Tebbitt. 

Extension  of  EmpireWeak- 
ness  ?  Deficits  Ruin  ?  With  a 
Practical  Scheme  for  the  Reconstruc- 
tion of  Asiatic  Turkey.  Small  crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  3.J.  6d. 

LOCKER  (F.). 
London  Lyrics.    A  New  and 

Revised  Edition,  with  Additions  and 
a  Portrait  of  the  Author.    Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  elegant,  price  6s. 
LOKI. 
The  New  Werther.     Small 

crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 
LORIMER  (Peter),  D.D. 
John  Knox  and  the  Church 

of  England:  His  Work  in  her  Pulpit, 
and  his  Influence  upon  her  Liturgy, 
Articles,  and  Parties.  Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  12J. 

John      Wiclif      and       his 

English  Precursors,  by  Gerhard 
Victor  Lechler.  Translated  from 
the  German,  with  additional  Notes. 
2  vols.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  ixs. 
Love's  Gamut  and  other 
Poems.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3 J.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  Co!s  Publications. 


19 


Love   Sonnets    of    Proteus. 

With    frontispiece    by   the   Author. 

Elzevir  8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 
LOWNDES  (Henry). 

Poems    and    Translations. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6^. 
LUMSDEN  (Lieut. -Col.  H.W.). 

Beowulf.      An  Old   English 

Poem.      Translated     into     modern 

rhymes.     Small  crown  8vo.     Cloth, 

price  '-)$. 
MAC  CLINTOCK  (L.). 

Sir  Spangle  and  the  Dingy 

Hen.     Illustrated.      Square   crown 

8vo.,  price  is.  6d. 

MACDONALD  (G.). 
Malcolm.     With  Portrait   ot 
the  Author  engraved  on  Steel.  Fourth 
Edition.    Crown  Svo.     Price  6s. 

The    Marquis    of    Lossie. 

Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

St.  George  and  St.  Michael. 

Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 6j. 
MACKENNA  (S.  J.). 
Plucky   Fellows.      A  Book 

for  Boys.  With  Six  Illustrations. 
Fourth  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  2s-  6d. 

At    School    with    an    Old 

Dragoon.  With  Six  Illustrations. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

MACLACHLAN  (Mrs.). 
Notes  and  Extracts  on 
Everlasting  Punishment  and 
Eternal  Life,  according  to 
Literal  Interpretation.  Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3^-.  6d. 

MACLEAN  (Charles  Donald). 
Latin    and     Greek    Verse 
Translations.     Small  crown   Svo. 
Cloth,  price  zs. 

MACNAUGHT  (Rev.  John). 
Ccena   Domini:     An    Essay 

on    the    Lord's    Supper,    its    Primi- 
tive    Institution,     Apostolic     Uses, 
and     Subsequent    History.     Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  14.S. 
MAGNUS  (Mrs.). 
About  the  Jews  since  Bible 

Times.  From  the  Babylonian  e.vile 
till  the  English  E.xodus.  Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  ^s. 


MAGNUSSON  (Eirikr),  M.A., 
and  PALMER(E.H.),  M.A. 

Johan  Ludvig  Runeberg's 
Lyrical  Songs,  Idylls  and  Epi- 
grams.   Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth,  price  55. 

MAIR  (R.  S.),  M.D.,  F.R.C.S.E. 
The     Medical    Guide     for 

Anglo-Indians.  Being  a  Compen- 
dium of  Advice  to  Europeans  in 
India,  relating  to  the  Preservation 
and  Regulation  of  Health.  With  a 
Supplement  on  the  Management  of 
Children  in  India.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.    Limp  cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

MALDEN  (H.  E.  and  E.  E.) 
Princes     and    Princesses. 

Illustrated.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  2.S.  6d. 

MANNING  (His  Eminence  Car- 
dinal). 
The    True    Story    of    the 

Vatican  Council.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  5J. 

Marie  Antoinette  :  a  Drama. 

Small  crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

MARKHAM  (Capt.  Albert  Hast- 
ings), R.N. 

The  Great  Frozen  Sea.     A 

Personal  Narrative  of  the  Voj-age  of 
the  "Alert"  during  the  Arctic  Ex- 
pedition of  1875-6.  With  six  full- 
page  Illustrations,  two  Maps,  and 
twenty-seven  Woodcuts.  Fourth 
and  cheaper  edition.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 

A  Polar  Reconnaissance  : 

being  the  Voyage  of  the  "  Isbjorri  " 
to  Novaya  Zemlj'a  in  1879.  With 
10  Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  x6s. 

MARTINEAU  (Gertrude). 
Outline         Lessons         on 
Morals.     Small  crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  3^-.  6d. 

Master  Bobby  :  a  Tale.  By 
the  Author  of  "Christina  North." 
With  Illustrations  by  E.  H.  Bell. 
Extra  fcap.  8vo.     Cloth,  price  3^.6^. 

MASTERMAN  (J.). 
Half-a-dozen       Daughters. 

With  a  Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  3J.  6d, 


20 


A  List  of 


McGRATH  (Terence). 
Pictures  from  Ireland.   New 

and  cheaper  edition.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  2S. 

MEREDITH  (George). 

The  Egoist.  A  Comedy  in  Nar- 
rative.  3  vols.    Crown  8vo.   Cloth. 

%*  Also  a  Cheaper  Edition,  with 
Frontispiece.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Fe- 

verel .  A  History  of  Father  and  Son. 
In  one  vol.  with  Frontispiece.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  6s, 

MERRITT  (Henry). 
Art  -  Criticism  and  Ro- 
mance. With  Recollections,  and 
Twenty-three  Illustrations  in  eau- 
forte,  by  Anna  Lea  Merritt.  Two 
vols.     Large  post  8vo.     Cloth,  25^. 

MIDDLETON  (The  Lady). 

Ballads.  Square  i6mo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 

MILLER  (Edward). 
The  History  and  Doctrines 

of  Irvingism  ;  or,  the  so-called  Ca- 
tholic and  Apostolic  Church.  2  vols. 
Large  post  Svo.     Cloth,  price  25J. 

The  Church  in  Relation  to 
the  State.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
IS.  6d. 

MILNE  (James). 
Tables  of  Exchange  for  the 

Conversion  of  Sterling  Money  into 
Indian  and  Ceylon  Currency,  at 
Rates  from  is.  8d.  to  2s,  -^d.  per 
Rupee.  Second  Edition.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  ;^ 2  25. 

MINCHIN  (J.  G.). 
Bulgaria    since    the   War. 

Notes  of  a  Tour  in  the  Autumn  of 
1879.  Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  y.  6d. 

MOCKLER  (E.). 
A  Grammar  of  the  Baloo- 
chee  Language,  as  it  is  spoken  in 
Makran  (Ancient  Gedrosia),  in  the 
Persia-Arabic  and  Roman  characters. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  is. 


MOFFAT  (Robert  Scott). 
The  Economyof  Consump. 

tion;  an  Omitted  Chapter  in  Political 
Economy,  with  special  reference  to 
the  Questions  of  Commercial  Crises 
and  the  Policy  of  Trades  Unions ; 
and  with  Reviews  of  the  Theories  of 
Adam  Smith,  Ricardo,  J.  S.  Mill, 
Fawcett,  &c.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  1 8 J. 

The  Principles  of  a  Time 

Policy :  being  an  Exposition  of  a 
Method  of  Settling  Disputes  between 
Employers  and  Employed  in  regard 
to  Time  and  Wages,  by  a  simple  Pro- 
cess of  Mercantile  Barter,  without 
recourse  to  Strikes  or  Locks-out. 
Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 
Monmouth:  A  Drama,  of  which 
the  Outline  is  Historical.  Dedicated 
by  permission  to  Mr.  Henry  Irving. 
Small  crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

MOORE  (Mrs.  Bloomfield). 
Gondaline's    Lesson.     The 

Warden's  Tale,  Stories  for  Children, 
and  other  Poems.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  55. 
MORELL  (J.  R.). 

Euclid  Simplified  in  Me- 
thod and  Language.  Being  a 
Manual  of  Geometry.  Compiled  from 
the  most  important  French  Works, 
approved  by  the  University  of  Paris 
and  the  Mmister  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion.   Fcap.  8vo.    Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

MORICE  (Rev.  F.  D.),  M.A. 
The  Olympian  and  Pythian 
Odes  of  Pindar.     A  New  Transla- 
tion in  English  Verse.     Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  js.  6d. 

MORSE  (E.  S.),  Ph.D. 
First     Book    of    Zoology. 
With  numerous  Illustrations.    New 
and   cheaper  edition.     Crown    Svo. 
Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

MORSHEAD  (E.  D.  A.) 
The     House     of    Atreus. 

Being  the  Agamemnon  Libation- 
Bearers  and  Furies  of  yEschylus 
Translated  into  English  Verse. 
Crown  Svo.       Cloth,  price  7^-. 

MORTERRA  (Felix). 
The  Legend  of  AUandale, 

and  other  Poems.  Small  crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  6^.  <^zlh:ii^ 


C.  Kegan  Paul  6^  Go's  PuhUcatio7is. 


21 


MUNRO  (Major-Gen.    Sir  Tho- 
mas),    K.C.B.,     Governor     of 
Madras. 
Selections    from     His 

Minutes,  and  other  Official  Writings. 
Edited,  with  an  Introductory  Me- 
moir, by  Sir  Alexander  Arbuthnot, 
K.C.S.I.,C.I.E.  Two  vols.  Demy 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  305'. 

NAAKE  (J.  T.). 

Slavonic       Fairy       Tales. 

From  Russian,  Servian,  Polish,  and 
Bohemian  Sources.  With  Four  Illus- 
trations. Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price  5J. 

NADEN  (Constance  W.). 
Songs      and     Sonnets     of 

Spring-Time.  Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  5^. 

NEWMAN  (J.  H.),  D.D. 

Characteristics    from     the 

Writings  of.  Being  Selections 
from  his  various  Works.  Arranged 
with  the  Author's  personal  approval. 
Third  Edition.  With  Portrait. 
Crown  Bvo.  Cloth,  price  ds. 
V  A  Portrait  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  H. 
Newman,  mounted  for  framing,  can 
be  had.  price  is.  dd. 

NICHOLAS    (Thomas),    Ph.D., 
F.G.S. 

The  Pedigree  of  the  English 

People :  an  Argument,  Historical 
and  Scientific,  on  the  Formation  and 
Growth  of  the  Nation,  tracing  Race- 
admixture  in  Britain  from  the  earliest 
times,  with  especial  reference  to  the 
incorporation  of  the  Celtic  Abori- 
gines. Fifth  Edition.  Demy  Bvo. 
Cloth,  price  165. 

NICHOLSON  (Edward  Byron). 
The  Christ  Child,  and  other 
Poems.     Crown  Bvo.     Cloth,  price 

45.  6d. 

The  Rights  of  an  Animal. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6<f. 

The   Gospel   according  to 

the  Hebrews.  Its  Fragments  trans- 
lated and  annotated,  with  a  critical 
Analysis  of  the  External  and  Internal 
Evidence  relating  to  it.  Demy  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  95.  dd. 

A  New  Commentary  on 
the  Gospel  according  to  Mat- 
thews.   Demy  Bvo.  Cloth,  price  125. 


NICOLS     (Arthur),      F.G.S. , 
F.R.G.S. 

Chapters  from  the  Physical 

History  of  the  Earth.  An  Introduc- 
tion to  Geology  and  Palseontolcgy, 
with  numerous  illustrations.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

NOAKE  (Major  R.  Compton). 
The   Bivouac  ;    or,   Martial 
Lyrist,  with  an  Appendix — Advice  to 
the  Soldier.   Fcap.  Bvo.  Price  5^.  td. 

NOEL  (The  Hon.  Roden). 
A  Little  Child's  Monument. 

Small  crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price  35.  td. 
NORMAN  PEOPLE  (The). 
The   Norman   People,  and 

their   Existing   Descendants   in   the 
British  Dominions   and  the   United 
States    of    America.       Demy    8vo. 
Cloth,  price  21J. 
NORRIS  (Rev.  Alfred). 
The  Inner  and  Outer  Life 

Poems.  Fcap.  Bvo.  Cloth,  price  6j. 

Notes   on   Cavalry   Tactics, 

Organization,  &c.  By  a  Cavalry 
Officer.  With  Diagrams.  Demy  Bvo. 
Cloth,  price  12^. 

Nuces  :  Exercises  on  the 
.Syntax  of  the  Public  School 
Latin  Primer.  New  Edition  in 
Three  Parts.  Crown  Bvo.  Each  u. 
%*  The  Three  Parts  can  also  be 
had  bound  together  in  cloth,  price  3^. 

GATES  (Frank),  F.R.G.S. 
Matabele  Land  and  the 
Victoria  Falls :  A  Naturalist's 
Wanderings  in  the  Interior  of 
South  Africa.  Edited  by  C.  G. 
Gates,  B.A.,  with  numerous  illus- 
trations and  four  maps.  Demy  Bvo. 
Cloth. 

O'BRIEN  (Charlotte  G.). 
Light   and  Shade.     2  vols. 
Crown  Bvo.     Cloth,  gilt  tops,  price 
1 2  J. 

Ode  of  Life  (The). 

Third  Edition.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  5J. 

OF      THE      IMITATION      OF 
CHRIST.      Four    books.      Demy 
32mo.  Limp  cloth,  price  \s. 
%*  Also  in  various  bindings. 


22 


A  List  of 


O'HAGAN  (John). 
The  Song  of  Roland.  Trans- 
lated   into    English    Verse.     Large 
post  8vo.     Parchment  antique,  price 
los.  6d. 

O'MEARA  (Kathleen). 
Frederic  Ozanam,  Professor 
of    the    Sorbonne ;    His    Life    and 
Works.      Second   Edition.      Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  7^.  6d. 

Henri  Perreyve  and  His 
Counsels  to  the  Sick.  Small 
crown    8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

Our  Public  Schools.  Eton, 
Harrow,  Winchester,  Rugby,  West- 
minster, Marlborough,  The  Charter- 
house.   Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  6s. 

OWEN  (F.  M.). 
John      Keats.        A     Study. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 
OWEN  (Rev.  Robert),  B.D. 
Sanctorale  Catholicum  ;  or 

Book  of  Saints.  With  Notes,  Criti- 
cal, Exegetical,  and  Historical. 
Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  i8i-. 

An  Essay  on  the  Commu- 
nion   of    Saints.       Including    an 
Examination  of  the  "  Cultus  Sanc- 
torum."    Price  25. 
PALGRAVE  (W.  Gifford). 
Hermann  Agha ;  An  Eastern 

Narrative.     Third  and  Cheaper  Edi- 
tion.    Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 
PANDURANG  HARI  ; 
Or,  Memoirs  of  a  Hindoo. 

With  an  Introductory  Preface  by  Sir 
H.  Bartle  E.  Frere,  G.C.S.I.,  C.B. 
Crown  Svo.     Price  6s. 

PARCHMENT  LIBRARY 
(The). 

Choicely  printed  on  hand  -  made 
paper,  limp  parchment  antique,  price 
6s.  each  ;  vellum,  price  js.  6d.  each. 

Shakspere's    Sonnets. 

Edited  by  Edward  Dowden,  Author 
of  "  Shakspere  ;  his  Mind  and  Art," 
&c.  With  a  Frontispiece,  etched 
by  Leopold  Lowenstam,  after  the 
•     Death  Mask. 

English  Odes.  Selected  by 
Edmund  W.  Gosse,  Author  of  "  Stu- 
dies in  the  Literature  of  Northern 
Europe."  With  Frontispiece  on 
India  paper  by  Hamo  Thornycroft, 
A.R.A. 


PARCHMENT  LIBRARY  (The) 

—  continued. 

Of  the  Imitation  of  Christ. 

By  Thomas  a  Kempis.  A  revised 
Translation.  With  Frontispiece  on 
India  paper,  from  a  Design  by 
W.  B.  Richmond. 

Tennyson's  The  Princess  : 

a  Medley.  With  a  Miniature  Fron- 
tispiece by  H.  M.  Paget,  and  a  Tail- 
piece in  Outline  by  Gordon  Browne. 
Poems  :  Selected  from  Percy 
Bysshe  Shellej'.  Dedicated  to  Lady 
Shelley.  With  Preface  by  Richard 
Garnet,  and  a  Miniature  Frontis- 
piece. 

Tennyson's     "In     Memo- 

riam."     With  a  Miniature  Portrait 
in   emi  forte  by    Le   Rat,    after  a 
Photograph  by  the  late  Mrs.  Came- 
ron. 
PARKER  (Joseph),  D.D. 
The   Paraclete :    An    Essay 

on  the  Personality  and  Ministry  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  with  some  reference 
to  current  discussions.  Second  Edi- 
tion.    Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  xis. 

PARR  (Capt.  H.  Hallam). 
A  Sketch  of  the  Kafir  and 
Zulu    Wars :    Guadana  to  Isand- 
hlwana,  with   Maps.      SmalJ  crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

The  Dress,  Horses,  and 
Equipment  of  Infantry  and  Staff 
Officers.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  IS. 
PARSLOE  (Joseph). 
Our  Railways  :  Sketches, 
Historical  and  Descriptive.  With 
Practical  Information  as  to  Fares, 
Rates,  &c.,  and  a  Chapter  on  Rail- 
way Reform.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

PATTISON  (Mrs.  Mark). 
The  Renaissance  of  Art  in 

France.  With  Nineteen  Steel 
Engravings.  2  vols.  Demy  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  325. 

PAUL  (C.  Kegan). 
Mary    Wollston  ecraft. 

Letters  to  Imlay.  With  Prefatory 
Memoir  by,  and  Two  Portraits  in 
eau  foT^e,  by  Anna  Lea  Merritt. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 


C.  Kega7i  Paul &*  Go's  Publications. 


23 


PAUL  (C.  Y^ftzSiVi)— continued. 
Goethe's   Faust.      A    New 

Translation  in  Rime.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  6j. 

William  Godwin :  His 
Friends    and    Contemporaries. 

With  Portraits  and  Facsimiles  of  the 
Handwriting  of  Godwin  and  his 
Wife.  2  vols.  Square  post  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  28J. 

The  Genius  of  Christianity 

Unveiled.  Being  Essays  by  William 

Godwin     never     before     published. 

Edited,     with    a    Preface,     by     C. 

Kegan   Paul.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth, 

price  7J.  6d. 
PAUL  (Margaret  Agnes). 

Gentle  and  Simple :  A  Story. 

2  vols.    Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  gilt  tops, 

price  12^. 
%*  Also  a  Cheaper  Edition  in  one 

vol.  with  Frontispiece.     Crown  8vo. 

Cloth,  price  65^. 
PAYNE  (John). 

Songs  of  Life  and  Death. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 
PAYNE  (Prof.  J.  F.). 
Frobel  and  the  Kindergar- 
ten  System.     Second  Edition. 

A  Visit  to  German  Schools : 
Elementary  Schools  in  Ger- 
many. Notes  of  a  Professional  Tour 
to  inspect  some  of  the  Kindergartens, 
Primary  Schools,  Public  Girls' 
Schools,  and  Schools  for  Technical 
Instruction  in  Hamburgh,  Berlin, 
Dresden,  Weimar,  Gotha,  Eisenach, 
in  the  autumn  of  1874.  With  Critical 
Discussions  of  the  General  Principles 
and  Practice  of  Kindergartens  and 
other  Schemes  of  Elementary  Edu- 
cation. Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
4J.  td. 
PELLETAN  (E.). 

The   Desert    Pastor,    Jean 

Jarousseau.  Translated  from  the 
French.  By  Colonel  E.  P.  De 
L'Hoste.  With  a  Frontispiece.  New 
Edition.  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
3*.  td. 
PENNELL  (H.  Cholmondeley). 
Pegasus    Resaddled.       By 

the  Author  of  "  Puck  on  Pegasus," 
&c.  &c.  With  Ten  Full-page  Illus- 
trations by  George  Du  Slaurier. 
Second  Edition.  Fcap.  410.  Cloth 
elegant,  price  i2f.  td. 


PENRICE  (Maj.  J.),  B.A. 
A  Dictionary  and  Glossary 

of  the  Ko-ran.  With  copious  Gram- 
matical References  and  Explanations 
of  the  Text.     4to.    Cloth,  price  21J. 

PESCHEL  (Dr.  Oscar). 

The    Races    of    Man    and 

theirGeographical  Distribution. 

Large  crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  gj. 
PETERS  (F.  H.). 

The    Nicomachean  Ethics 

of  Aristotle.  Translated  by.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  bs. 

PFEIFFER  (Emily). 
Quarterman's    Grace,    and 
other  Poems.    Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  5^. 

Glan  Alarch:  His  Silence 

and  Song.  A  Poem.  Second 
Edition.     Crown  Svo.     price  6j. 

Gerard's    Monument,    and 

other  Poems,  Second  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6j. 

Poems.        Second     Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 
Sonnets  and  Songs.     New 

Edition.  i6mo,  handsomely  printed 
and  bound  in  cloth,  gilt  edges,  price 

PIKE  (Warburton}. 
The  Inferno  of  Dante  Ali- 

ghieri.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  s^r. 
PINCHES  (Thomas),  M.A. 
Samuel  Wilberforce:  Faith 
—Service— Recompense.  Three 
Sermons.  With  a  Portrait  of  Bishop 
Wilberforce  (after  a  Photograph  by 
Charles  Watkins).  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  45-.  dd. 

PLAYFAIR     (Lieut. -Col.).    Her 

Britannic  Majesty's  Consul-General 
in  Algiers. 

Travels  in  the  Footsteps  of 

Bruce  in  Algeria  and  Tunis. 
Illustrated  by  facsimiles  of  Bruce's 
original  Drawings,  Photographs, 
Maps,  &c.  Royal  4to.  Cloth, 
bevelled  boards,   gilt    leaves,   price 

POLLOCK  (Frederick). 
Spinoza.  His  Life  and  Phi- 
losophy.       Demy    Svo.       Cloth, 
price  16^. 


24 


A  List  of 


POLLOCK  (W.  H.). 
Lectures  on  French  Poets. 

Delivered  at  the  Royal  Institution. 
Small  crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

POOR  (Laura  E.). 
Sanskrit   and    its    kindred 

Literatures.  Studies  in  Compara- 
tive Mythology.  Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  55-. 

POUSHKIN  (A.  S.). 
Russian         Romance. 

Translated  from  the  Tales  of  Belkin, 
&c.  By  Mrs.  J.  Buchan  Telfer  {nee 
Mouravieff).  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 

PRESBYTER. 

Unfoldings     of    Christian 

Hope.  An  Essay  showing  that  the 
Doctrine  contained  in  the  Damna- 
tory Clauses  of  the  Creed  commonly 
called  Athanasian  is  unscriptural. 
Small  crown  8vo.   Cloth,  price  45.  6d. 

PRICE  (Prof.  Bonamy). 
Currency  and  Banking. 
Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  6s. 
Chapters  on  Practical  Poli- 
tical Economy.  Being  the  Sub- 
stance of  Lectures  delivered  before 
the  University  of  Oxford.  Large 
post  Svo.    Cloth,  price  12^. 

Proteus    and   Amadeus.     A 

Correspondence.  Edited  by  Aubrey 
DeVere.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  5 J. 

PUBLIC  SCHOOLBOY. 
The  Volunteer,  the  Militia- 
man,  and  the  Regtilar  Soldier. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

PULPIT  COMMENTARY  (The). 

Edited  by  the  Rev.  J.  S.  Exell  and 
the  Rev.  Canon  H.  D.  M.  Spence. 
Genesis.  By  Rev.  T.  White- 
law,  M.A.  ;  with  Homilies  by  the 
Very  Rev.  J.  F.  Montgomery,  D  D., 
Rev.  Prof.  R.  A.  Redford,  M.A., 
LL.B.,  Rev.  F.  Hastings,  Rev.  W. 
Roberts,  M.A.  An  Introduction  to 
the  Study  of  the  Old  Testament  by 
the  Rev.  Canon  Farrar,  D.D., 
F.R.S.  ;  and  Introductions  to  the 
Pentateuch  by  the  Right  Rev.  H. 
Cotterill,  D.D.,  and  Rev.  T.  White- 
law,  M.A.  Fourth  Edition.  Price 
xss. 


PULPIT  COMMENTARY  (The) 

— continued. 

Numbers.     By  the  Rev.  R. 

Winterbotham,LL.B.  With  Homilies 
by  the  Rev.  Prof.  W.  Binnie,  D.D., 
Rev.  E.  S.  Prout,  M.A.,  Rev.  D. 
Young,  Rev.  J.  Waite,  and  an  In- 
troduction by  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Whitelaw,  M.A.     Price  15^. 

Joshua.  By  the  Rev.  J.  J. 
Lias,  M.A.  With  HomiHes  by  the 
Rev.  S.  R.  Aldridge,  LL.B.,  Rev. 
R.  Glover,  Rev.  E.  de  Pressense, 
D.D.,  Rev.  J.  Waite,  Rev.  F.  W. 
Adeney,  and  an  Introduction  by  the 
Rev.  A.  Plummer,  M.A.  Second 
Edition.     Price  125.  6d, 

Judges  and  Ruth.  By  Right 

Rev.  Lord  A.  C.  Hervey,  D.D.,  and 
Rev.  J.  Morrison,  D.D.  With  Ho- 
milies by  Rev.  A.  F.  Muir,  M.A.  ; 
Rev.  W.  F.  Adeney,  M.A.  ;  Rev. 
W.  M.  Statham  ;  and  Rev.  Prof.  J. 
R.  Thomson,  M.A.  Second  Edition. 
Cloth,  price  15.^. 

I  Samuel.  By  the  Very  Rev. 
R.  P.  Smith,  D.D.  With  Homilies 
by  the  Rev.  Donald  Fraser,  D.D., 
Rev.  Prof  Chapman,  and  Rev.  B. 
Dale.     Third  Edition.     Price  15.1. 

Ezra,  Nehemiah,  and 
Esther.  By  Rev.  Canon  G.  Rawlin- 
son,  M.A. ;  with  Homilies  by  Rev. 
Prof.  J.  R.  Thomson,  M.A.,  Rev. 
Prof.  R.  A.  Redford,  LL.B.,  M.A., 
Rev.  W.  S.  Lewis,  M.A.,  Rev.  J.  A. 
Macdonald,  Rev.  A.  Mackennal, 
B.A.,  Rev.  W.  Clarkson,  B.A.,  Rev. 
F.  Hastings,  Rev.  W.  Dinwiddle, 
LL.B.,  Rev.  Prof.  Rowlands,  B.A., 
Rev.  G.  Wood,  B.A.,  Rev.  Prof.  P. 
C.  Barker,  LL.B.,  M.A.,  and  Rev. 
J.  S.  Exell.    Fourth  Edition.     Price 

125'.  6d. 

Punjaub    (The)    and    North 

Western  Frontier  of  India.  By  an 
old  Punjaubee.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  5^. 

Rabbi  Jeshua.      An    Eastern 
Story.      Crown   Svo.      Cloth,    price 

2,s.  6d, 

RAVENSHAW    Qohn     Henry), 
B.C.S. 

Gaur:  Its  Ruins  and  In- 
scriptions.   Edited  with  consider- 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  Co.^s  Puhlicatiofis. 


25 


RAVENSHAW     (John      Henry), 

"^.Z.^.— continued. 

able  additions  and  alterations  by  his 
Widow.  With  fortj'-four  photo- 
graphic illustrations  and  twenty-five 
fac-similes  of  Inscriptions.  Super 
royal  4to.  Cloth,  3/.  13^.  td. 
READ  (Carveth). 
On  the  Theory  of  Logic  : 

An  Essay.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6j. 

Realities  of  the  Future  Life. 

Small    crown    8vo.        Cloth,    price 

REANEY  (Mrs.  G.  S.). 
Blessing   and    Blessed;    a 

Sketch  of  Girl  Life.  New  and 
cheapejr  Edition.  With  a  frontis- 
piece. Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price  3 j.6^/. 

Waking  and  Working  ;  or, 
from  Girlhood  to  'Womanhood. 

New  and  cheaper  edition.  With  a 
Frontispiece.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  6</. 

Rose  Gurney's  Discovery. 

A  Book  for  Girls,  dedicated  to  their 
Mothers.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
3^.  6d. 

English  Girls  :   their  Place 

and  Power.  With  a  Preface  by 
R.  W.  Dale,  M.A.,  of  Birmingham. 
Third  Edition.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  2j.  dd. 

Just     Anyone,    and    other 

Stories.  Three  Illustrations.  Royal 
i6mo.     Cloth,  price  \s.  6d. 

Sunshine  Jenny  and  other 

Stories.  Three  Illustrations.  Royal 
i6mo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

Sunbeam  Willie,  and  other 

Stories.  Three  Illustrations.  Royal 
i6mo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

RENDALL  (J.  M.). 
Concise   Handbook  of  the 
Island  of  Madeira.     With  plan  of 
Funchal  and  map  of  the  Island.  Fcap. 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

REYNOLDS  (Rev.  J.  W.). 
The  Supernatural  in  Na- 
ture. A  Verification  by  Free  Use  of 
Science.  Second  Edition,  revised 
and  enlarged.  Demy  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  145'. 

Mystery  of  Miracles,  The. 

By  the  Author  of ' '  The  Supernatural 
in  Nature."  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 


RHOADES  (Tames). 
The     Georgics    of    Virgil. 

Translated  into  English  Verse.  Small 
crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  s^. 

RIBOT  (Prof.  Th.). 
English  Psychology.  Se- 
cond Edition.  A  Revised  and  Cor- 
rected Translation  from  the  latest 
French  Edition.  Large  post  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  gs. 

Heredity  :  A  Psychological 
Study  on  its  Phenomena,  its  Laws, 
its  Causes,  and  its  Consequences. 
Large  crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  gs. 

RINK  (Chevalier  Dr.  Henry). 
Greenland  :  Its  People  and 

its  Products.  By  the  Chevalier 
Dr.  Henry  Rink,  President  of  the 
Greenland  Board  of  Trade.  With 
sixteen  Illustrations,  drawn  by  the 
Eskimo,  and  a  Map.  Edited  by  Dr. 
Robert  Brown.  Crown  8vo.  Price 
10s.  6d. 
ROBERTSON  (The  Late  Rev. 
F.  W.),  M.A.,  of  Brighton. 
The     Human     Race,     and 

other  Sermons  preached  at  Chelten- 
ham, Oxford,  and  Brighton.  Second 
Edition.  Large  post  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  -js.  6d. 

Notes    on   Genesis.     New 

and  cheaper  Edition.  Crown  8vo., 
price  3f .  Cd. 

Sermons.  Four  Series.  Small 
crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  35.  6d.  each. 

Expository  Lectures  on 
St.  Paul's  Epistles  to  the  Co- 
rinthians. A  New  Edition.  Small 
crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 

Lectures    and    Addresses, 

with  other  literary'  remains.  A  New 
Edition.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price  ~,s. 
An  Analysis  of  Mr.  Tenny- 
son's  "  In  Memoriam."  (Dedi- 
cated by  Permission  to  the  Poet- 
Laureate.)  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  price  2i-. 

The  Education  of  the 
Human  Race,  Translated  from 
the  German  of  Gotthold  Ephraim 
Lessing.  Fcap.  8vo.  Cloth,  price 
2J.  6d. 

Life  and  Letters.  Edited  by 
the  Rev.  Stopford  Brooke,  M.A., 
Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to  the  Queen. 
I.  2  vols.,  uniform  with  the  Ser- 
mons. With  Steel  Portrait.  Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  js.  6d. 


26 


A  List  of 


ROBERTSON  (The  Late  Rev. 
F.  W.),  M.A.,  oiBrighton^-co't- 

tiniied. 

II.  Library  Edition,  in  Demy  8vo., 
with  Portrait.      Cloth,  price  i2j. 

III.  A  Popular  Edition,  in  one  vol. 
Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  6j. 

The  above  Works  can  also  be  had 
hnlf-bou7td  in  tnorocco. 
%*  A  Portrait  of  the  late  Rev.  F.  W. 
Robertson,  mounted  for  framing,  can 
be  had,  price  -zs.  6d. 
ROBINSON  (A.  Mary  F.). 
A      Handful     of     Honey- 
suckle.    Fcap.    8vo.     Cloth,  price 
3^.  6d. 

The  Crowned  Hippolytus. 

Translated  from  Euripides.  With 
New  Poems.  Small  crown  8vo, 
Cloth,  price  ^s. 

RODWELL  (G.  F.),  F.R.A.S., 
F.C.S. 

Etna :  a  History  of  the 
Mountain  and  its  Eruptions. 
With  Maps  and  Illustrations.  Square 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  qs. 

ROSS  (Mrs.  E.),  ("Nelsie  Brook"). 
Daddy's  Pet.  A  Sketch 
from  Humble  Life.  With  Six  Illus- 
trations. Royal  i6mo.  Cloth,  price  is. 

ROSS   (Alexander),  D.D. 
Memoir       of       Alexander 
Ewing,  Bishop  of  Argyll  and  the 
Isles.    Second  and  Cheaper  Edition. 
Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  105-.  6d. 

SADLER  (S.  W.),  R.N. 
The   African    Cruiser.      A 

Midshipman's  Adventures  on  the 
West  Coast.  With  Three  Illustra- 
tions. Second  Edition.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  -^s.  6d. 

SALTS  (Rev.  Alfred),  LL.D. 
Godparents    at    Confirma- 
tion.    With  a  Preface  by  the  Bishop 
of  Manchester.     Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  limp,  price  25. 

SALVATOR(ArchdukeLudwig). 
Levkosia,  the  Capital  of 
Cyprus.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
10^.  6d. 

SAMUEL  (Sydney  Montagu). 
Jewish    Life   in   the   East. 
Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

SAUNDERS  (John). 
Israel  Mort,   Overman  :  A 

Story  of  the  Mine.  Cr.  Svo.  Price  6s. 


SAUNDERS  {}oY\ny-continued. 
Hirell.      With    Frontispiece. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

Abel  Drake's  Wife.     With 
Frontispiece.      Crown  Svo.      Cloth, 
price  3J.  6d. 
SAYCE  (Rev.  Archibald  Henry). 
Introduction  to  the  Science 

of  Language.  Two  vols.,  large  post 
Svo.  Cloth,  price  25J. 
SCHELL  (Maj.  von). 
The  Operations  of  the 
First  Army  under  Gen.  von 
Goeben.  Translated  by  Col.  C.  H. 
von  Wright.  Four  Maps.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  qs. 

The  Operations  of  the 
First  Army  under  Gen.  von 
Steinmetz.  Translated  by  Captain 
E.  O.  Hollist.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  I  or.  6d. 

SCHELLENDORF     (Maj.-Gen. 
B.  von). 
The  Duties  of  the  General 

Staff.  Translated  from  the  German 
by  Lieutenant  Hare.  Vol.  I.  Demy 
Svo.  Cloth,  Tos.  td. 
SCHERFF  (Maj.  W.  von). 
Studies  in  the  New  In- 
fantry Tactics.  Parts  I.  and  II. 
Translated  from  the  German  by 
Colonel  Lumley  Graham.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  yj.  dd. 

Scientific  Layman.   The  New 

Truth  and  the  Old  Faith  :  are  they 
Incompatible?  Demy  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  \os.  6d. 

SCOONES  (W.  Baptiste). 
Four  Centuries  of  English 
Letters.  A  Selection  of  350  Letters 
by  150  Writers  from  the  period  of  the 
Paston  Letters  to  the  Present  Time. 
Edited  and  arranged  by.  Second 
Edition.  Large  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  gs. 

SCOTT  (Leader). 
A  Nook  in  the  Apennines: 

A  Summer  beneath  the  Chestnuts. 
With  Frontispiece,  and  27  Illustra- 
tions in  the  Text,  chiefly  from 
Original  Sketches.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  -js.  6d. 
SCOTT  (Robert  H.). 

Weather  Charts  and  Storm 

Warnings.  Illustrated.  SecondEdi- 
tion.   Crown  Svo.   Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  6^  Co.^s  Publications. 


27 


Seeking    his     Fortune,    and 

other  Stories.     With   Four  Illustra- 
tions.     New   and    cheaper  Edition. 
Crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  -zs.  6d. 
SENIOR  (N.  W.). 
Alexis      De     Tocqueville. 

Correspondence  and  Conversations 
with  Nassau  W.  Senior,  from  1833  to 
1859.  Edited  by  M.  C.  M.  Simpson. 
2  vols.  Large  post  8vo.  Cloth, price  21  j. 

Seven  Autumn  Leaves  from 
Fairyland.  Illustrated  with  Nine 
Etchings.  Square  crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  3J.  6d. 

SHADWELL  (Maj.-Gen.),  C.B. 
Mountain  Warfare.  Illus- 
trated by  the  Campaign  of  1799  in 
Switzerland.  Being  a  Translation 
of  the  Swiss  Narrative  compiled  from 
the  Works  of  the  Archduke  Charles, 
Jomini,  and  others.  Also  of  Notes 
by  General  H.  Dufour  on  the  Cam- 
paign of  the  Valtelline  in  1635.  With 
Appendix,  Maps,  and  Introductory 
Remarks.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth,  price  i6j. 

SHAKSPEARE  (Charles). 
Saint      Paul     at     Athens  : 

Spiritual  Christianity  in  Relation  to 
some  Aspects  of  Modern  Thought. 
Nine  Sermons  preached  at  St.  Ste- 
phen's Church,  Westboume  Park. 
With  Preface  by  the  Rev.  Canon 
Farrar.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  5^. 

SHAW  (Major  Wilkinson). 
The  Elements  of  Modern 
Tactics.  Practically  applied  to 
English  Formations.  With  Twenty- 
five  Plates  and  Maps.  S  cond  and 
cheaper  Edition.  Small  crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  qs. 

*^*  The  Second  Volume  of  "Mili- 
tary Handbooks  for  Officers  and 
Non-commissioned  Officers."  Edited 
by  Lieut. -Col.  C.  B.  Brackenbury, 
R.A.,  A.A.G. 

SHAW   (Flora   L.). 
Castle    Blair:     a    Story   of 
Youthful  Lives.    2  vols.    Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  gilt  tops,  price  12^.     Also,  an 
dition  in  one  vol.     Crown  Svo.     6s. 

SHELLEY  (Lady). 
Shelley  Memorials  from 
Authentic  Sources.  With  (now 
first  printed)  an  Essay  on  Christian- 
ity by  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley.  With 
Portrait.  Third  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  5^. 


SHERMAN  (Gen.  W.  T.). 
Memoirs    of    General   W. 

T.  Sherman,  Commander  of  the 
Federal  Forces  in  the  American  Civil 
War.  By  Himself.  2  vols.  With 
Map.  Demy  Svo  Cloth,  price  24J. 
Copyright  English  Edition. 

SHILLITO  (Rev.  Joseph). 

Womanhood  :  its  Duties, 
Temptations,  and  Privileges.  A  Book 
for  Young  Women.  Second  Edition. 
Crown  Svo.     Price  is.  6d. 

SHIPLEY  (Rev.  Orby),  M.A. 
Principles  of  the  Faith  in 
Relation  to  Sin.  Topics  for 
Thought  in  Times  of  Retreat. 
Eleven  Addresses.  With  an  Intro- 
duction on  the  neglect  of  Dogmatic 
Theology  in  the  Church  of  England, 
and  a  Postscript  on  his  leaving  the 
Church  of  England.  Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  12J. 

Church  Tracts,  or  Studies 
in  Modern  Problems.  By  various 
Writers.  2  vols.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  sj.  each. 

Sister  Augustine,  Superior 
of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  at  the  St. 
Johannis  Hospital  at  Bonn.  Autho- 
rized Translation  by  Hans  Tharau 
from  the  German  Memorials  of  Ama- 
lie  von  Lasaul.x.  Second  edition. 
Large  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  -js.  6d. 

SKINNER  (James). 
Coelestia  :  the  Manual  of  St. 
Augustine.  The  Latin  Text  side  by 
side  with  an  English  Interpretation, 
in  36  Odes,  with  Notes,  and  a  plea 
for  the  Study  of  Mystic  Theology. 
Large  crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  bs. 

SMITH  (Edward),  M.D.,  LL.B., 
F.R.S. 

Health  and  Disease,  as  In- 
fluenced by  the  Daily,  Seasonal,  and 
other  Cyclical  Changes  in  the  Human 
System.  A  New  Edition.  Post  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  ts.  6d. 

Practical  Dietary  for 
Families,  Schools,  and  the  La- 
bouring Classes.  A  New  Edition. 
Post  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

Tubercular  Consumption 
in  its  Early  and  Remediable 
Stages.  Second  Edition.  Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 


28 


A  List  of 


Songs  of  Two  Worlds.     By 

the  Author  of  "  The  Epic  of  Hades." 
Sixth  Edition.  Complete  in  one 
Volume,  with  Portrait.  Fcap.  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  yi.  6d. 

Songs  for  Music. 

By    Four   Friends.      Square  crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 
Containing   songs   by   Reginald    A. 
Gatty,  Stephen    H.   Gatty,  Greville 
J.  Chester,  and  Juliana  Ewing. 
SPEDDING  (James). 
Reviews  and  Discussions, 
Literary,    Political,     and    His- 
torical, not  relating  to   Bacon. 
Demy  8vo.     Cloth,  price  12s.  6d. 

STAPFER  (Paul). 
Shakspeare  and  Classical 
Antiquity  :  Greek  and  Latin  Anti- 
quity as  presented  in  Shakspeare's 
Plays.  Translated  by  Emilj^  J.  Carey. 
Large  post  Svo.     Cloth,  price  125-. 

St.    Bernard   on     the    Love 

of  God.  Translated  by  Marianne 
Caroline  and  Coventry  Patmore. 
Cloth  extra,  gilt  top,  price  4^.  6d. 

STEDMAN  (Edmund  Clarence). 

Lyrics     and    Idylls.     With 

other  Poems.     Crown   Svo.     Cloth, 

price  js.  6d. 
STEPHENS    (Archibald   John), 

LL.D. 

The      Folkestone      Ritual 

Case.  The  Substance  of  the  Argu- 
ment delivered  before  the  Judicial 
Committee  of  the  Privy  Council.  On 
behalf  of  the  Respondents.  Demy 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

STEVENS  (William). 
The  Truce  of  God,  and  other 
Poems.     Small  crown  Svo.     Cloth, 
price  3^.  6d. 

STEVENSON  (Robert  Louis). 
Virginibus,  Puerisque,  and 
other  Papers.    Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  6s. 

STEVENSON  (Rev.  W.  P.). 
Hymns  for  the  Church  and 

Home.  Selected  and  Edited  by  the 
Rev.  W.  Fleming  Stevenson. 

The  most  complete   Hymn  Book 
published. 


STEVENSON  (Rev.  W.  ¥.)—con- 
tiinicd. 

The  Hymn  Book  consists  of  Three 
Parts  :— L  For  Public  Worship.— 
IL  For  Family  and  Private  Worship. 
— IIL  For  Children. 
*^  Published  in  various  forms  and 
prices,  the  latter  ranging  from  Sd. 
to  6s.  Lists  and  full  particulars 
•will  be  furnished  on  application  to 
the  Publishers. 

STOCKTON  (Frank  R.). 
A  Jolly  Fellowship.     With 
20  Illustrations.    Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  5^, 

STORR  (Francis),  and  TURNER 
Hawes). 
Canterbury     Chimes ;     or, 

Chaucer  Tales  retold  to  Children. 
With  Illustrations  from  the  Elles- 
mere  MS.  Extra  Fcap.  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 
STRETTON  (Hesba). 
David  Lloyd's  Last  Will. 
With  Four  Illustrations.  Royal 
i6mo.,  price  is.  6d. 

The       Wonderful       Life. 

Thirteenth  Thousand.  Fcap.  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 

Through  a  Needle's  Eye  : 

a  Story.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
6s. 

STUBBS  (Lieut. -Colonel  F.  W.) 
The  Regiment  of  Bengal 
Artillery.  The  Hi.story  of  its 
Organization,  Equipment,  and  War 
Services.  Compiled  from  Published 
Works,  Official  Records,  and  various 
Private  Sources.  With  numerous 
Maps  and  Illustrations.  2  vols. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  32J. 

STUMM  (Lieut.  Hugo),  German 
Military  Attache  to  the  Khivan  Ex- 
pedition. 

Russia's  advance  East- 
ward. Basedon  the  Official  Reports 
of.  Translated  by  Capt.  C.  E.  H. 
Vincent.  With  Map.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 
SULLY  (James),  M.A. 
Sensation    and    Intuition. 

Demy  Svo.  Second  Edition.  Cloth, 
price  10s.  6d. 

Pessimism  :  a  History  and 
a  Criticism.     Demy  Svo.    Price  14^. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  &*  Co.^s  Publications. 


Sunnyland  Stories. 

By  the  Author  of  "Aunt  Mary's  Bran 
Pie."  Illustrated.  Small  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d 

Sweet     Silvery    Sayings    of 

Shakespeare.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth 
gilt,  price  7J.  6d. 

SYME  (David). 
Outlines  of  an    Industrial 
Science.     Second  Edition.    Crown 
8vo.    Cloth,  price  6s, 

Tales  from  Ariosto.  Retold  for 

Children,  by  a  Lady.  With  three 
illustrations.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  4J.  6d. 

TAYLOR  (Algernon). 

Guienne.  Notes  of  an  Autumn 

Tour.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  45. 6</. 
TAYLOR  (Sir  H.). 

Works  Complete.    Author's 

Edition,    in    5    vols.      Crown    Svo. 

Cloth,  price  6s.  each. 
Vols.    L   to   in.   containing    the 

Poetical  Works,  Vols.   IV.  and  V. 

the  Prose  Works. 

TAYLOR  (Col.  Meadows),  C.S.I., 
M.R.I. A. 
A  Noble  Queen  :  a  Romance 

J  Indian   History.     New  Edition. 
With     Frontispiece.      Crown    Svo. 

oth.    Price  6s. 
Seeta.      New    Edition    with 
frontispiece.      Crown   Svo.      Cloth, 
price  6s. 

Tippoo  Sultaun :  a  Tale  of 

the  Mysore  War.  New  Edition  with 
Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  6s. 

Ralph  Darnell.  New  Edi- 
tion. With  Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 

The  Confessions  of  a  Thug. 

New  Edition.  With  Frontispiece. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

Tara  :     a     Mahratta     Tale. 

New  Edition.  With  Frontispiece. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

TENNYSON  (Alfred). 
The  Imperial  Library  Edi- 
tion. Complete  in  7  vols.  Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  £2  iS'J-   6^^-  ;  in   Rox- 
burgh binding,  £^  7s.  6d. 


TENNYSON  {h.Urtdi)-coHiifmed- 
Author's  Edition.  Complete 
in  6  Volumes.  Post  Svo.  Cloth  gilt  ; 
or  half-morocco,  Roxburgh  style  :— 

Vol.  I.    Early  Poems,  and 

English  Idylls.  Price  6s.  ;  Rox- 
burgh, 7J.  6d. 

Vol.  II.  Locksley  Hall, 
Lucretius,  and  other  Poems. 
Price  6s.  ;  Roxburgh,  7^.  6d. 

Vol.    III.      The    Idylls    of 

the  King  {Complete).  Price  75.  6d.', 
Roxburgh,  gs. 

Vol.  IV.  The  Princess,  and 
Maud.  Price  6j.;  Roxburgh,  7^.  6d. 

Vol.  V.  Enoch  Arden, 
and  In  Memoriam.  Price  6s.  ; 
Roxburgh,  -js.  6d. 

Vol.  VI.  Dramas.  Price  7j.  ; 

Roxburgh,  S^.  6d, 

Cabinet  Edition.  12  vols. 
Each  with  Frontispiece.  Fcap.  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  2s.  6d.  each. 

Cabinet  Edition.  12  vols.  Com- 
plete  in  handsome  Ornamental  Case. 
32J. 

The  Royal  Edition.     With 

25  Illustrations  and  Portrait.  Cloth 
extra,  bevelled  boards,  gilt  leaves. 
Price  2i.y. 

The  Guinea  Edition.  Com- 
plete in  12  vols.,  neatly  bound  and 
enclosed  in  box.  Cloth,  price  21s. 
French  morocco  or  parchment,  price 
3 1  J.  6d. 

The  Shilling  Edition  of  the 

Poetical  and  Dramatic  Works,  in  12 
vols.,  pocket  size.   Price  is.  each. 

The  Crown  Edition.  Com- 
plete in  one  vol.,  strongly  bound  in 
cloth,  price  6s.  Cloth,  extra  gilt 
leaves,  price  7J.  6d.  Roxburgh, 
half  morocco,  price  Zs.  6d. 

*i(*  Can  also  be  had  in  a  variety 
of  other  bindings. 


30 


A  List  of 


TENNYSON  iPAlr^di)—conthmed. 
Original  Editions  : 

Ballads  and  other  Poems. 

Fcap.  8vo.    Cloth,  price  5J. 

The  Lover's  Tale.      (Now 

for  the  first  time  published.)  Fcap. 
8vo.     Cloth,  3*.  6d. 

Poems.     Small  8vo.     Cloth, 

price  6j. 

Maud,       and    other    Poems. 
Small  8vo.     Cloth,  price  3^.  6^. 
The    Princess.     Small  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  35.  6^. 
Idylls  of  the   King.     Small 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

Idylls  of  the  King.  Com- 
plete.    Small  Svo.     Cloth,  price  ts. 

The  Holy  Grail,  and  other 

Poems.  Small  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
45.  dd. 

Gareth  and  Lynette.    Small 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  35. 

Enoch   Arden,  &c.      Small 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  3^.  dd. 

In  Memoriam,     Small  Svo. 

Cloth,  price  45. 

Queen    Mary.      A   Drama. 

New  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  65. 

Harold.     A  Drama,     Crown 

Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

Selections  from  Tenny- 
son's Works.  Super  royal  i6mo. 
Cloth,  price  3^.  6d.  Cloth  gilt  extra, 
price  4J. 

Songs    from     Tennyson's 

Works.  Super  royal  i6mo.  Cloth 
extra,  price  y.  6d. 

Also    a    cheap     edition.       i6mo. 
Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 
Idylls    of    the     King,    and 

other  Poems.  Illustrated  by  Julia 
Margaret  Cameron.  2  vols.  Folio. 
Half-bound  morocco,  cloth  sides, 
price  £6  6s.  each. 

Tennyson  for  the  Young  and 

for  Recitation.  Specially  arranged. 
Fcap.  Svo.     Price  is.  6d. 


Tennyson    Birthday    Book. 

Edited  by  Emily  Shakespear.  32mo. 
Cloth  limp,  2S. ;  cloth  extra,  3^. 

*^(.*  A  superior  edition,  printed  in 
red  and  black,  on  antique  paper, 
specially  prepared.  Small  crown  Svo. 
Cloth  extra,  gilt  leaves,  price  5^.  ; 
and  in  various  calf  and  morocco 
bindings. 

Songs    Set    to    Music,    by 

various  Composers.  Edited  by  W. 
G.  Cusins.  Dedicated  by  express 
permission  to  Her  Majesty  the 
Queen.  Royal  4to.  Cloth  extra, 
gilt  leaves,  price  zis.,  or  in  half- 
morocco,  price  255. 

An  Index  to  "  In  Memo- 
riam."   Price  2^. 

THOMAS  (Moy). 
A    Fight   for    Life.      With 

Frontispiece.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 

THOMPSON  (Alice  C). 
Preludes.       A    Volume     of 

Poems.  Illustrated  by  Elizabeth 
Thompson  (Painter  of  "The  Roll 
Call  ").     Svo.     Cloth,  price  7s.  6d. 

THOMSON  G.TurnbuU). 
Social  Problems ;  or,  an  In- 
quiry into  the   Law  of  Influences. 
With  Diagrams.   Demy  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  io.y.  6d. 

THRING  (Rev.  Godfrey),  B.A, 
Hymns  and  Sacred  Lyrics. 

Fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

TODHUNTER  (Dr.  J.) 
A  Study  of  Shelley.    Crown 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  7J. 

Alcestis  :  A  Dramatic  Poem. 

Extra  fcap.  Svo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

Laurella;  and  other  Poems. 

Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s.  6d. 

Translations  from  Dante, 
Petrarch,  Michael  Angelo,  and 
Vittoria  Colonna.  Fcap.  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  7^.  6d. 

TURNER  (Rev.  C.  Tennyson). 
Sonnets,  Lyrics,  and  Trans- 
lations.   Crown  Svo.    Cloth,  price 
45.  6d. 


C.  Kegan  Paul  ^  Co.^s  Publications. 


31 


TURNER  (Rev.  C.  Tennyson)— 
continued. 

Collected  Sonnets,  Old  and 

New.  \VithPrefator>'PoembyAlfred 
Tennyson  ;  also  some  Marginal  Notes 
by  S.  T.  Coleridge,  and  a  Critical 
Essay  by  James  Spedding.  Fcap. 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  -js.  6d. 

TWINING  (Louisa). 
Recollections     of     Work- 
house   Visiting    and    Manage- 
ment during  twenty-five  years. 
Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

UPTON  (Major  R.  D.). 
Gleanings  from  the  Desert 

of  Arabia.  Large  post  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  10^.  Cd. 

VAUGHAN  (H.  Halford),  some- 
time  Regius  Professor  of  Modern 
History  in  Oxford  University. 

New  Readings  and  Ren- 
derings of  Shakespeare's  Tra- 
gedies. 2  vols.  Demy  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  25J. 

VILLA RI  (Prof.). 
Niccolo    Machiavelli    and 
His  Times.     Translated  by  Linda 
Villari.     2  vols.    Large    post    Svo. 
Cloth,  price  24J. 

VINCENT  (Capt.  C.  E.  H.). 
Elementary  Military 
Geography,  Reconnoitring,  and 
Sketching.  Compiled  for  Non- 
commissioned Officers  and  Soldiers 
of  all  Arms.  Square  crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  2s.  6d. 

VYNER  (Lady  Mary). 
Every     day     a      Portion. 

Adapted  from  the  Bible  and  the 
Prayer  Book,  for  the  Private  Devo- 
tions of  those  living  in  Widowhood. 
Collected  and  edited  by  Lady  Mary 
Vyner.  Square  crown  Svo.  Cloth 
extra,  price  5^. 

WALDSTEIN  (Charles),  Ph.  D. 
The  Balance  of  Emotion 
and  Intellect :  An  Essay  Intro- 
ductory to  the  Study  of  Philosophy. 
Crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  6s. 

WALLER  (Rev.  C.  B.) 
The  Apocalypse,  Reviewed 
under  the  Light  of  the  Doctrine  of 
the  Unfolding  A^es  and  the  Resti- 
tution of  all  Things.  Demy  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  12s, 


WALTERS  (Sophia  Lydia). 
The  Brook:   A  Poem.   Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  3J.  6d. 

A  Dreamer's  Sketch  Book. 

With  Twenty-one  Illustrations  by 
Percival  Skelton,  R.  P.  Leitch, 
W.  H.  J.  Boot,  and  T.  R.  Pritchett. 
Engraved  by  J.  D.  Cooper.  Fcap. 
4to.     Cloth,  price  12s.  6d. 

WATERFIELD,  W. 

Hymns  for  Holy  Days  and 

Seasons.  32mo.  Cloth,  price  is.  6d. 
WATSON  (William). 
The    Prince's    Quest    and 
other  Poems.     Crown  Svo.    Cloth, 
price  55-. 

WATSON  (Sir  Thomas),  Bart., 
M.D. 
The  Abolition  of  Zymotic 

Diseases,  and  of  other  similar  ene» 
mies  of  Mankind.  Small  crown  Svo. 
Cloth,  price  3^.  6d. 

WAY  (A.),  M.A. 
The  Odes  of  Horace  Lite- 
rally Translated  in  Metre,    Fcap. 
Svo.     Cloth,  price  2s. 

WEBSTER  (Augusta). 
Disguises.  A  Drama.    Small 
crown  Svo.     Cloth,  price  5J. 

WEDMORE  (Frederick). 
The     Masters     of     Genre 

Painting.  With  sixteen  illustrations. 
Large  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price 
^s.  6d. 

Wet    Days,    by    a    Farmer. 

Small  crown  Svo.  Cloth,  price  6s. 
WHEWELL  (William),  D.D. 
His  Life  and  Selections 
from  his  Correspondence.  By 
Mrs.  Stair  Douglas.  With  Portrait 
from  a  Painting  by  Samuel  Laurence. 
Demy  Svo.     Cloth,  price  21s. 

WHITAKER  (Florence). 
Christy's    Inheritance.      A 

London  Story.     Illustrated.     Royal 
i6mo.     Cloth,  price  js.  6d. 
WHITE  (A.  D.),  LL.D. 
Warfare  of  Science.     With 

Prefatory'  Note  by  Professor  Tyndall. 
Second  Edition.  Crown  Svo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 


32      A  List  of  C.  Kegan  Paul  6^  Co.^s  Publications. 


WHITNEY  (Prof.  W.  D.) 
Essentials       of      English 
Grammar  for  the  Use  of  Schools. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 

WICKSTEED  (P.  H.). 
Dante  :  Six  Sermons.    Crown 
8vo.     Cloth,  price  55. 

WILKINS  (William). 
Songs  of  Study.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 

WILLIAMS  (Rowland),  D.D. 
Stray  Thoughts  from  the 
Note-Books  of  the  Late  Row- 
land Williams,  D.D.  Edited  by 
his  Widow.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  35.  6d. 

Psalms,  Litanies,  Coun- 
sels and  Collects  for  Devout 
Persons.  Edited  by  his  Widow. 
New  and  Popular  Edition.  Crown 
Bvo.  Cloth,  price  35.  6d, 
WILLIS  (R.),  M.D. 
Servetus    and    Calvin  :    a 

Study  of  an  Important  Epoch  in  the 
Early  History  of  the  Reformation. 
Bvo.     Cloth,  price  \6s. 

William  Harvey.  A  History 

of  the  Discovery  of  the  Circula- 
tion of  the  Blood.  With  a  Portrait 
of  Harvey,  after  Faithorne.  Demy 
8vo.    Cloth,  price  14J. 

WILLOUGHBY(TheHon.Mrs.). 

On     the     North     Wind  — 

Thistledown.  A  Volume  of  Poems. 
Elegantly  bound.     Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  7s.  6d. 
WILSON  (Erasmus). 
Egypt   of   the    Past.     With 

Chromo-lithographs   and    numerous 
Illustrations    in    the   Text.     Crown 
8vo.     Cloth. 
WILSON  (H.  Schiitz). 
The  Tower    and   Scaffold. 

A  Miniature  Monograph.  Large 
fcap.  8vo.     Price  is. 

Within    Sound   of  the   Sea. 

By  the  Author  of  "  Blue  Roses," 
"  Vera,"  &c.  Third  Edition.  2  vols. 
Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  gilt  tops,  price 
12s. 

*jf*  Also  a  cheaper  edition  in  one 
vol.  with  frontispiece.     Price  6s. 


WOLLSTONECRAFT  (Mary). 
Letters  to    Imlay.    With  a 

Preparatory  Memoir  by  C.  Kegan 
Paul,  and  two  Portraits  in  eau  forte 
by  Anna  Lea  Merritt.  Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  6s. 

WOLTMANN  (Dr.  Alfred),  and 
WOERMANN(Dr.  Karl). 
History  of  Painting  in  An- 
tiquity and  the  Middle  Ages. 
Edited  by  Sidney  Colvin.  With  nu- 
merous illustrations.  Medium  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  28^.  ;  cloth,  bevelled 
boards,  gilt  leaves,  price  305. 

WOOD  (Major-GeneralJ.Creigh- 
ton). 
Doubling    the    Consonant. 

Small  crown  8vo.    Cloth,  price  \s.  6d. 
WOODS  (James  Chapman). 
A    Child    of    the    People, 

and  other  poems.  Small  crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  5^. 

Word     was     made     Flesh. 

Short  Family  Readings  on  the 
Epistles  for  each  Sunday  of  the 
Christian  Year.  Demy  Bvo.  Cloth, 
price  \os.  6d. 

WRIGHT  (Rev.  David),  M.A. 
Waiting  for  the  Light,  and 
other  Sermons.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  6^. 

YOUMANS  (Eliza  A.). 
An  Essay  on  the  Culture 
of  the  Observing  Pow^ers  of 
Children,  especially  in  connection 
with  the  Study  of  Botany.  Edited, 
with  Notes  and  a  Supplement,  by 
Joseph  Payne,  F.  C.  P.,  Author  of 
"  Lectures  on  the  Science  and  Art  of 
Education,"  &c.  Crown  8vo.  Cloth, 
price  -zs.  6d. 

First     Book     of     Botany. 

Designed  to  Cultivate  the  Observmg 
Powers  of  Children.  With  300  En- 
gravings. New  and  Cheaper  Edi- 
tion. Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  price  2.S.  6d. 
YOUMANS  (Edward  L.),  M.D. 
A  Class  Book  of  Chemistry, 

on  the   Basis  of  the   New   System. 
With  200  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo. 
Cloth,  price  5J. 
YOUNG  (William). 
Gottlob,    etcetera.       Small 
crown  8vo.     Cloth,  price  35.  6d. 


London:— C.  Kegan  Paul  &  Co.,  i,  Paternoster  Square. 


Date  Due 

■   9  \   ■•;■ . 

.>'-.L-DLlC 

rF-5--R- 

v 

^^0g0m 

y.:.^ 

f