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diff --git a/1885-h/1885-h.htm b/1885-h/1885-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6429efc --- /dev/null +++ b/1885-h/1885-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7016 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Bunyan Characters</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Bunyan Characters, by Alexander Whyte</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bunyan Characters, by Alexander Whyte + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Bunyan Characters + First Series + + +Author: Alexander Whyte + +Release Date: April 13, 2005 [eBook #1885] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUNYAN CHARACTERS*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1893 Oliphant Anderson and Ferrier edition by +David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>BUNYAN CHARACTERS: FIRST SERIES<br /> +BEING LECTURES DELIVERED IN ST. GEORGE’S FREE CHURCH EDINBURGH<br /> +BY ALEXANDER WHYTE, D.D.</h1> +<h2>INTRODUCTORY</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘The express image’ [Gr. ‘the character’].—Heb. +1. 3.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The word ‘character’ occurs only once in the New Testament, +and that is in the passage in the prologue of the Epistle to the Hebrews, +where the original word is translated ‘express image’ in +our version. Our Lord is the Express Image of the Invisible Father. +No man hath seen God at any time. The only-begotten Son, who is +in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him. The Father hath +sealed His divine image upon His Son, so that he that hath seen the +Son hath seen the Father. The Son is thus the Father’s character +stamped upon and set forth in human nature. The Word was made +flesh. This is the highest and best use to which our so expressive +word ‘character’ has ever been put, and the use to which +it is put when we speak of Bunyan’s Characters partakes of the +same high sense and usage. For it is of the outstanding good or +evil in a man that we think when we speak of his character. It +is really either of his likeness or unlikeness to Jesus Christ we speak, +and then, through Him, his likeness or unlikeness to God Himself. +And thus it is that the adjective ‘moral’ usually accompanies +our word ‘character’—moral or immoral. A man’s +character does not have its seat or source in his body; character is +not a physical thing: not even in his mind; it is not an intellectual +thing. Character comes up out of the will and out of the heart. +There are more good minds, as we say, in the world than there are good +hearts. There are more clever people than good people; character,—high, +spotless, saintly character,—is a far rarer thing in this world +than talent or even genius. Character is an infinitely better +thing than either of these, and it is of corresponding rarity. +And yet so true is it that the world loves its own, that all men worship +talent, and even bodily strength and bodily beauty, while only one here +and one there either understands or values or pursues moral character, +though it is the strength and the beauty and the sweetness of the soul.</p> +<p>We naturally turn to Bishop Butler when we think of moral character. +Butler is an author who has drawn no characters of his own. Butler’s +genius was not creative like Shakespeare’s or Bunyan’s. +Butler had not that splendid imagination which those two masters in +character-painting possessed, but he had very great gifts of his own, +and he has done us very great service by means of his gifts. Bishop +Butler has helped many men in the intelligent formation of their character, +and what higher praise could be given to any author? Butler will +lie on our table all winter beside Bunyan; the bishop beside the tinker, +the philosopher beside the poet, the moralist beside the evangelical +minister.</p> +<p>In seeking a solid bottom for our subject, then, we naturally turn +to Butler. Bunyan will people the house for us once it is built, +but Butler lays bare for us the naked rock on which men like Bunyan +build and beautify and people the dwelling-place of God and man. +What exactly is this thing, character, we hear so much about? we ask +the sagacious bishop. And how shall we understand our own character +so as to form it well till it stands firm and endures? ‘Character,’ +answers Butler, in his bald, dry, deep way, ‘by character is meant +that temper, taste, disposition, whole frame of mind from whence we +act in one way rather than another . . . those principles from which +a man acts, when they become fixed and habitual in him we call his character +. . . And consequently there is a far greater variety in men’s +characters than there is in the features of their faces.’ +Open Bunyan now, with Butler’s keywords in your mind, and see +the various tempers, tastes, dispositions, frames of mind from which +his various characters act, and which, at bottom, really make them the +characters, good or bad, which they are. See the principles which +Bunyan has with such inimitable felicity embodied and exhibited in their +names, the principles within them from which they have acted till they +have become a habit and then a character, that character which they +themselves are and will remain. See the variety of John Bunyan’s +characters, a richer and a more endless variety than are the features +of their faces. Christian and Christiana, Obstinate and Pliable, +Mr. Fearing and Mr. Feeblemind, Temporary and Talkative, Mr. By-ends +and Mr. Facing-both-ways, Simple, Sloth, Presumption, that brisk lad +Ignorance, and the genuine Mr. Brisk himself. And then Captain +Boasting, Mr. High-mind, Mr. Wet-Eyes, and so on, through a less known +(but equally well worth knowing) company of municipal and military characters +in the <i>Holy War</i>.</p> +<p>We shall see, as we proceed, how this and that character in Bunyan +was formed and deformed. But let us ask in this introductory lecture +if we can find out any law or principle upon which all our own characters, +good or bad, are formed. Do our characters come to be what they +are by chance, or have we anything to do in the formation of our own +characters, and if so, in what way? And here, again, Butler steps +forward at our call with his key to our own and to all Bunyan’s +characters in his hand, and in three familiar and fruitful words he +answers our question and gives us food for thought and solemn reflection +for a lifetime. There are but three steps, says Butler, from earth +to heaven, or, if you will, from earth to hell—acts, habits, character. +All Butler’s prophetic burden is bound up in these three great +words—acts, habits, character. Remember and ponder these +three words, and you will in due time become a moral philosopher. +Ponder and practise them, and you will become what is infinitely better—a +moral man. For acts, often repeated, gradually become habits, +and habits, long enough continued, settle and harden and solidify into +character. And thus it is that the severe and laconic bishop has +so often made us shudder as he demonstrated it to us that we are all +with our own hands shaping our character not only for this world, but +much more for the world to come, by every act we perform, by every word +we speak, almost by every breath we draw. Butler is one of the +most terrible authors in the world. He stands on our nearest shelf +with Dante on one side of him and Pascal on the other. He is indeed +terrible, but it is with a terror that purifies the heart and keeps +the life in the hour of temptation. Paul sometimes arms himself +with the same terror; only he composes in another style than that of +Butler, and, with all his vivid intensity, he calls it the terror of +the Lord. Paul and Bunyan are of the same school of moralists +and stylists; Butler went to school to the Stoics, to Aristotle, and +to Plato.</p> +<p>Our Lord Himself came to be the express image He was and is by living +and acting under this same universal law of human life—acts, habits, +character. He was made perfect on this same principle. He +learned obedience both by the things that He did, and the things that +He suffered. Butler says in one deep place, that benevolence and +justice and veracity are the basis of all good character in God and +in man, and thus also in the God-man. And those three foundation +stones of our Lord’s character settled deeper and grew stronger +to bear and to suffer as He went on practising acts and speaking words +of justice, goodness, and truth. And so of all the other elements +of His moral character. Our Lord left Gethsemane a much more submissive +and a much more surrendered man than He entered it. His forgiveness +of injuries, and thus His splendid benevolence, had not yet come to +its climax and crown till He said on the cross, ‘Father, forgive +them’. And, as He was, so are we in this world. This +world’s evil and ill-desert made it but the better arena and theatre +for the development and the display of His moral character; and the +same instruments that fashioned Him into the perfect and express image +He was and is, are still, happily, in full operation. Take that +divinest and noblest of all instruments for the carving out and refining +of moral character, the will of God. How our Lord made His own +unselfish and unsinful will to bow to silence and to praise before the +holy will of His Father, till that gave the finishing touch to His always +sanctified will and heart! And, happily, that awful and blessed +instrument for the formation of moral character is still active and +available to those whose ambition rises to moral character, and who +are aiming at heaven in all they do and all they suffer upon the earth. +Gethsemane has gone out till it has covered all the earth. Its +cup, if not in all the depth and strength of its first mixture, still +in quite sufficient bitterness, is put many times in life into every +man’s hand. There is not a day, there is not an hour of +the day, that the disciple of the submissive and all-surrendered Son +has not the opportunity to say with his Master, If it be possible, let +this cup pass: nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.</p> +<p>It is not in the great tragedies of life only that character is tested +and strengthened and consolidated. No man who is not himself under +God’s moral and spiritual instruments could believe how often +in the quietest, clearest, and least tempestuous day he has the chance +and the call to say, Yea, Lord, Thy will be done. And, then, when +the confessedly tragic days and nights come, when all men admit that +this is Gethsemane indeed, the practised soul is able, with a calmness +and a peace that confound and offend the bystanders, to say, to act +so that he does not need to say, Not my will, but Thine. And so +of all the other forms and features of moral character; so of humility +and meekness, so of purity and temperance, so of magnanimity and munificence, +so of all self-suppression and self-extinction, and all corresponding +exalting and magnifying and benefiting of other men. Whatever +other passing uses this present world, so full of trial and temptation +and suffering, may have, this surely is the supreme and final use of +it—to be a furnace, a graving-house, a refining place for human +character. Literally all things in this life and in this world—I +challenge you to point out a single exception—work together for +this supreme and only good, the purification, the refining, the testing, +and the approval of human character. Not only so, but we are all +in the very heat of the furnace, and under the very graving iron and +in the very refining fire that our prefigured and predestinated character +needs. Your life and its trials would not suit the necessities +of my moral character, and you would lose your soul beyond redemption +if you exchanged lots with me. You do not put a pearl under the +potter’s wheel; you do not cast clay into a refining fire. +Abraham’s character was not like David’s, nor David’s +like Christ’s, nor Christ’s like Paul’s. As +Butler says, there is ‘a providential disposition of things’ +around every one of us, and it is as exactly suited to the flaws and +excrescences, the faults and corruptions of our character as if Providence +had had no other life to make a disposition of things for but one, and +that one our own. Have you discovered that in your life, or any +measure of that? Have you acknowledged to God that you have at +last discovered the true key of your life? Have you given Him +the satisfaction to know that He is not making His providential dispositions +around a stock or a stone, but that He has one under His hand who understands +His hand, and responds to it, and rises up to meet and salute it?</p> +<p>And we cease to wonder so much at the care God takes of human character, +and the cost He lays out upon it, when we think that it is the only +work of His hands that shall last for ever. It is fit, surely, +that the ephemeral should minister to the eternal, and time to eternity, +and all else in this world to the only thing in this world that shall +endure and survive this world. All else we possess and pursue +shall fade and perish, our moral character shall alone survive. +Riches, honours, possessions, pleasures of all kinds: death, with one +stroke of his desolating hand, shall one day strip us bare to a winding-sheet +and a coffin of all the things we are so mad to possess. But the +last enemy, with all his malice and all his resistless power, cannot +touch our moral character—unless it be in some way utterly mysterious +to us that he is made under God to refine and perfect it. The +Express Image carried up to His Father’s House, not only the divine +life He had brought hither with Him when He came to obey and submit +and suffer among us; He carried back more than He brought, for He carried +back a human heart, a human life, a human character, which was and is +a new wonder in heaven. He carried up to heaven all the love to +God and angels and men He had learned and practised on earth, with all +the earthly fruits of it. He carried back His humility, His meekness, +His humanity, His approachableness, and His sympathy. And we see +to our salvation some of the uses to which those parts of His moral +character are at this moment being put in His Father’s House; +and what we see not now of all the ends and uses and employments of +our Lord’s glorified humanity we shall, mayhap, see hereafter. +And we also shall carry our moral character to heaven; it is the only +thing we have worth carrying so far. But, then, moral character +is well worth achieving here and then carrying there, for it is nothing +else and nothing less than the divine nature itself; it is the divine +nature incarnate, incorporate, and made manifest in man. And it +is, therefore, immortal with the immortality of God, and blessed for +ever with the blessedness of God.</p> +<h2>EVANGELIST</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Do the work of an evangelist.’—Paul +to Timothy.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On the 1st of June 1648 a very bitter fight was fought at Maidstone, +in Kent, between the Parliamentary forces under Fairfax and the Royalists. +Till Cromwell rose to all his military and administrative greatness, +Fairfax was generalissimo of the Puritan army, and that able soldier +never executed a more brilliant exploit than he did that memorable night +at Maidstone. In one night the Royalist insurrection was stamped +out and extinguished in its own blood. Hundreds of dead bodies +filled the streets of the town, hundreds of the enemy were taken prisoners, +while hundreds more, who were hiding in the hop-fields and forests around +the town, fell into Fairfax’s hands next morning.</p> +<p>Among the prisoners so taken was a Royalist major who had had a deep +hand in the Maidstone insurrection, named John Gifford, a man who was +destined in the time to come to run a remarkable career. Only, +to-day, the day after the battle, he has no prospect before him but +the gallows. On the night before his execution, by the courtesy +of Fairfax, Gifford’s sister was permitted to visit her brother +in his prison. The soldiers were overcome with weariness and sleep +after the engagement, and Gifford’s sister so managed it that +her brother got past the sentries and escaped out of the town. +He lay hid for some days in the ditches and thickets around the town +till he was able to escape to London, and thence to the shelter of some +friends of his at Bedford. Gifford had studied medicine before +he entered the army, and as soon as he thought it safe he began to practise +his old art in the town of Bedford. Gifford had been a dissolute +man as a soldier, and he became, if possible, a still more scandalously +dissolute man as a civilian. Gifford’s life in Bedford was +a public disgrace, and his hatred and persecution of the Puritans in +that town made his very name an infamy and a fear. He reduced +himself to beggary with gambling and drink, but, when near suicide, +he came under the power of the truth, till we see him clothed with rags +and with a great burden on his back, crying out, ‘What must I +do to be saved?’ ‘But at last’—I quote +from the session records of his future church at Bedford—‘God +did so plentifully discover to him the forgiveness of sins for the sake +of Christ, that all his life after he lost not the light of God’s +countenance, no, not for an hour, save only about two days before he +died.’ Gifford’s conversion had been so conspicuous +and notorious that both town and country soon heard of it: and instead +of being ashamed of it, and seeking to hide it, Gifford at once, and +openly, threw in his lot with the extremest Puritans in the Puritan +town of Bedford. Nor could Gifford’s talents be hid; till +from one thing to another, we find the former Royalist and dissolute +Cavalier actually the parish minister of Bedford in Cromwell’s +so evangelical but otherwise so elastic establishment.</p> +<p>At this point we open John Bunyan’s <i>Grace Abounding to the +Chief of Sinners</i>, and we read this classical passage:—‘Upon +a day the good providence of God did cast me to Bedford to work in my +calling: and in one of the streets of that town I came where there were +three or four poor women sitting at the door in the sun and talking +about the things of God. But I may say I heard, but I understood +not, for they were far above and out of my reach . . . About this time +I began to break my mind to those poor people in Bedford, and to tell +them of my condition, which, when they had heard, they told Mr. Gifford +of me, who himself also took occasion to talk with me, and was willing +to be well persuaded of me though I think on too little grounds. +But he invited me to his house, where I should hear him confer with +others about the dealings of God with their souls, from all which I +still received more conviction, and from that time began to see something +of the vanity and inner wretchedness of my own heart, for as yet I knew +no great matter therein . . . At that time also I sat under the ministry +of holy Mr. Gifford, whose doctrine, by the grace of God, was much for +my stability.’ And so on in that inimitable narrative.</p> +<p>The first minister whose words were truly blessed of God for our +awakening and conversion has always a place of his own in our hearts. +We all have some minister, some revivalist, some faithful friend, or +some good book in a warm place in our heart. It may be a great +city preacher; it may be a humble American or Irish revivalist; it may +be <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>, or <i>The Cardiphonia</i>, or +the <i>Serious Call</i>—whoever or whatever it was that first +arrested and awakened and turned us into the way of life, they all our +days stand in a place by themselves in our grateful heart. And +John Gifford has been immortalised by John Bunyan, both in his <i>Grace +Abounding</i> and in his <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i>. In his +<i>Grace Abounding</i>, as we have just seen, and in <i>The Pilgrim</i>, +Gifford has his portrait painted in holy oil on the wall of the Interpreter’s +house, and again in eloquent pen and ink in the person of Evangelist.</p> +<p>John Gifford had himself made a narrow escape out of the City of +Destruction, and John Bunyan had, by Gifford’s assistance, made +the same escape also. The scene, therefore, both within that city +and outside the gate of it, was so fixed in Bunyan’s mind and +memory that no part of his memorable book is more memorably put than +just its opening page. Bunyan himself is the man in rags, and +Gifford is the evangelist who comes to console and to conduct him. +Bunyan’s portraits are all taken from the life. Brilliant +and well-furnished as Bunyan’s imagination was, Bedford was still +better furnished with all kinds of men and women, and with all kinds +of saints and sinners. And thus, instead of drawing upon his imagination +in writing his books, Bunyan drew from life. And thus it is that +we see first John Gifford, and then John Bunyan himself at the gate +of the city; and then, over the page, Gifford becomes the evangelist +who is sent by the four poor women to speak to the awakened tinker.</p> +<p>‘Wherefore dost thou so cry?’ asks Evangelist. +‘Because,’ replied the man, ‘I am condemned to die.’ +‘But why are you so unwilling to die, since this life is so full +of evils?’ And I suppose we must all hear Evangelist putting +the same pungent question to ourselves every day, at whatever point +of the celestial journey we at present are. Yes; why are we all +so unwilling to die? Why do we number our days to put off our +death to the last possible period? Why do we so refuse to think +of the only thing we are sure soon to come to? We are absolutely +sure of nothing else in the future but death. We may not see to-morrow, +but we shall certainly see the day of our death. And yet we have +all our plans laid for to-morrow, and only one here and one there has +any plan laid for the day of his death. And can it be for the +same reason that made the man in rags unwilling to die? Is it +because of the burden on our back? Is it because we are not fit +to go to judgment? And yet the trumpet may sound summoning us +hence before the midnight clock strikes. If this be thy condition, +why standest thou still? Dost thou see yonder shining light? +Keep that light in thine eye. Go up straight to it, knock at the +gate, and it shall be told thee there what thou shalt do next. +Burdened sinner, son of man in rags and terror: What has burdened thee +so? What has torn thy garments into such shameful rags? +What is it in thy burden that makes it so heavy? And how long +has it lain so heavy upon thee? ‘I cannot run,’ said +the man, ‘because of the burden on my back.’ And it +has been noticed of you that you do not laugh, or run, or dress, or +dance, or walk, or eat, or drink as once you did. All men see +that there is some burden on your back; some sore burden on your heart +and your mind. Do you see yonder wicket gate? Do you see +yonder shining light? There is no light in all the horizon for +you but yonder light over the gate. Keep it in your eye; make +straight, and make at once for it, and He who keeps the gate and keeps +the light burning over it, He will tell you what to do with your burden. +He told John Gifford, and He told John Bunyan, till both their burdens +rolled off their backs, and they saw them no more. What would +you not give to-night to be released like them? Do you not see +yonder shining light?</p> +<p>Having set Christian fairly on the way to the wicket gate, Evangelist +leaves him in order to seek out and assist some other seeker. +But yesterday he had set Faithful’s face to the celestial city, +and he is off now to look for another pilgrim. We know some of +Christian’s adventures and episodes after Evangelist left him, +but we do not take up these at present. We pass on to the next +time that Evangelist finds Christian, and he finds him in a sorry plight. +He has listened to bad advice. He has gone off the right road, +he has lost sight of the gate, and all the thunders and lightnings of +Sinai are rolling and flashing out against him. What doest thou +here of all men in the world? asked Evangelist, with a severe and dreadful +countenance. Did I not direct thee to His gate, and why art thou +here? Christian told him that a fair-spoken man had met him, and +had persuaded him to take an easier and shorter way of getting rid of +his burden. Read the whole place for yourselves. The end +of it was that Evangelist set Christian right again, and gave him two +counsels which would be his salvation if he attended to them: Strive +to enter in at the strait gate, and, Take up thy cross daily. +He would need more counsel afterwards than that; but, meantime, that +was enough. Let Christian follow that, and he would before long +be rid of his burden.</p> +<p>In the introductory lecture Bishop Butler has been commended and +praised as a moralist, and certainly not one word beyond his deserts; +but an evangelical preacher cannot send any man with the burden of a +bad past upon him to Butler for advice and direction about that. +While lecturing on and praising the sound philosophical and ethical +spirit of the great bishop, Dr. Chalmers complains that he so much lacks +the <i>sal evangelicum</i>, the strength and the health and the sweetness +of the doctrines of grace. Legality and Civility and Morality +are all good and necessary in their own places; but he is a cheat who +would send a guilt-burdened and sick-at-heart sinner to any or all of +them. The wicket gate first, and then He who keeps that gate will +tell us what to do, and where next to go; but any other way out of the +City of Destruction but by the wicket gate is sure to land us where +it landed Evangelist’s quaking and sweating charge. When +Bishop Butler lay on his deathbed he called for his chaplain, and said, +‘Though I have endeavoured to avoid sin, and to please God to +the utmost of my power, yet from the consciousness of my perpetual infirmities +I am still afraid to die.’ ‘My lord,’ said his +happily evangelical chaplain, ‘have you forgotten that Jesus Christ +is a Saviour?’ ‘True,’ said the dying philosopher, +‘but how shall I know that He is a Saviour for me?’ +‘My lord, it is written, “Him that cometh to Me, I will +in no wise cast out.”’ ‘True,’ said Butler, +‘and I am surprised that though I have read that Scripture a thousand +times, I never felt its virtue till this moment, and now I die in peace.’</p> +<p>The third and the last time on which the pilgrims meet with their +old friend and helper, Evangelist, is when they are just at the gates +of the town of Vanity. They have come through many wonderful experiences +since last they saw and spoke with him. They have had the gate +opened to them by Goodwill. They have been received and entertained +in the Interpreter’s House, and in the House Beautiful. +The burden has fallen off their backs at the cross, and they have had +their rags removed and have received change of raiment. They have +climbed the Hill Difficulty, and they have fought their way through +the Valley of the Shadow of Death. More than the half of their +adventures and sufferings are past; but they are not yet out of gunshot +of the devil, and the bones of many a promising pilgrim lie whitening +the way between this and the city. Many of our young communicants +have made a fair and a promising start for salvation. They have +got over the initial difficulties that lay in their way to the Lord’s +table, and we have entered their names with honest pride in our communion +roll. But a year or two passes over, and the critical season arrives +when our young communicant ‘comes out,’ as the word is. +Up till now she has been a child, a little maid, a Bible-class student, +a young communicant, a Sabbath-school teacher. But she is now +a young lady, and she comes out into the world. We soon see that +she has so come out, as we begin to miss her from places and from employments +her presence used to brighten; and, very unwillingly, we overhear men +and women with her name on their lips in a way that makes us fear for +her soul, till many, oh, in a single ministry, how many, who promised +well at the gate and ran safely past many snares, at last sell all—body +and soul and Saviour—in Vanity Fair.</p> +<p>Well, Evangelist remains Evangelist still. Only, without losing +any of his sweetness and freeness and fulness of promise, he adds to +that some solemn warnings and counsels suitable now, as never before, +to these two pilgrims. If one may say so, he would add now such +moral treatises as Butler’s <i>Sermons</i> and <i>Serious Call</i> +to such evangelical books as <i>Grace Abounding</i> and <i>A Jerusalem +Sinner Saved</i>.</p> +<p>To-morrow the two pilgrims will come out of the wilderness and will +be plunged into a city where they will be offered all kinds of merchandise,—houses, +lands, places, honours, preferments, titles, pleasures, delights, wives, +children, bodies, souls, and what not. An altogether new world +from anything they have yet come through, and a world where many who +once began well have gone no further. Such counsels as these, +then, Evangelist gave Christian and Faithful as they left the lonely +wilderness behind them and came out towards the gate of the seductive +city—‘Let the Kingdom of Heaven be always before your eyes, +and believe steadfastly concerning things that are invisible.’ +Visible, tangible, sweet, and desirable things will immediately be offered +to them, and unless they have a faith in their hearts that is the substance +of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen, it will soon +be all over with them and their pilgrimage. ‘Let no man +take your crown,’ he said also, as he foresaw at how many booths +and counters, houses, lands, places, preferments, wives, husbands, and +what not, would be offered them and pressed upon them in exchange for +their heavenly crown. ‘Above all, look well to your own +hearts,’ he said. Canon Venables laments over the teaching +that Bunyan received from John Gifford. ‘Its principle,’ +he says, ‘was constant introspection and scrupulous weighing of +every word and deed, and even of every thought, instead of leading the +mind off from self to the Saviour.’ The canon seems to think +that it was specially unfortunate for Bunyan to be told to keep his +heart and to weigh well every thought of it; but I must point out to +you that Evangelist puts as above all other things the most important +for the pilgrims the looking well to their own hearts; and our plain-spoken +author has used a very severe word about any minister who should whisper +anything to any pilgrim that could be construed or misunderstood into +putting Christ in the place of thought and word and deed, and the scrupulous +weighing of every one of them. ‘Let nothing that is on this +side the other world get within you; and above all, look well to your +own hearts, and to the lusts thereof.’</p> +<p>‘Set your faces like a flint,’ Evangelist proceeds. +How little like all that you hear in the counsels of the pulpit to young +women coming out and to young men entering into business life. +I am convinced that if we ministers were more direct and plain-spoken +to such persons at such times; if we, like Bunyan, told them plainly +what kind of a world it is they are coming out to buy and sell in, and +what its merchandise and its prices are; if our people would let us +so preach to their sons and daughters, I feel sure far fewer young communicants +would make shipwreck, and far fewer grey heads would go down with sorrow +to the grave. ‘Be not afraid,’ said Robert Hall in +his charge to a young minister, ‘of devoting whole sermons to +particular parts of moral conduct and religious duty. It is impossible +to give right views of them unless you dissect characters and describe +particular virtues and vices. The works of the flesh and the fruits +of the Spirit must be distinctly pointed out. To preach against +sin in general without descending to particulars may lead many to complain +of the evil of their hearts, while at the same time they are awfully +inattentive to the evil of their conduct.’ Take Evangelist’s +noble counsels at the gate of Vanity Fair, and then take John Bunyan’s +masterly description of the Fair itself, with all that is bought and +sold in it, and you will have a lesson in evangelical preaching that +the evangelical pulpit needed in Bunyan’s day, in Robert Hall’s +day, and not less in our own.</p> +<p>‘My sons, you have heard the truth of the gospel, that you +must through many tribulations enter the Kingdom of God. When, +therefore, you are come to the Fair and shall find fulfilled what I +have here related, then remember your friend; quit yourselves like men, +and commit the keeping of your souls to your God in well-doing as unto +a faithful Creator.’</p> +<h2>OBSTINATE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Be ye not as the mule.’—David.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Little Obstinate was born and brought up in the City of Destruction. +His father was old Spare-the-Rod, and his mother’s name was Spoil-the-Child. +Little Obstinate was the only child of his parents; he was born when +they were no longer young, and they doted on their only child, and gave +him his own way in everything. Everything he asked for he got, +and if he did not immediately get it you would have heard his screams +and his kicks three doors off. His parents were not in themselves +bad people, but, if Solomon speaks true, they hated their child, for +they gave him all his own way in everything, and nothing would ever +make them say no to him, or lift up the rod when he said no to them. +When the Scriptures, in their pedagogical parts, speak so often about +the rod, they do not necessarily mean a rod of iron or even of wood. +There are other ways of teaching an obstinate child than the way that +Gideon took with the men of Succoth when he taught them with the thorns +of the wilderness and with the briars thereof. George Offor, John +Bunyan’s somewhat quaint editor, gives the readers of his edition +this personal testimony:—‘After bringing up a very large +family, who are a blessing to their parents, I have yet to learn what +part of the human body was created to be beaten.’ At the +same time the rod must mean something in the word of God; it certainly +means something in God’s hand when His obstinate children are +under it, and it ought to mean something in a godly parent’s hand +also. Little Obstinate’s two parents were far from ungodly +people, though they lived in such a city; but they were daily destroying +their only son by letting him always have his own way, and by never +saying no to his greed, and his lies, and his anger, and his noisy and +disorderly ways. Eli in the Old Testament was not a bad man, but +he destroyed both the ark of the Lord and himself and his sons also, +because his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not. +God’s children are never so soft, and sweet, and good, and happy +as just after He restrains them, and has again laid the rod of correction +upon them. They then kiss both the rod and Him who appointed it. +And earthly fathers learn their craft from God. The meekness, +the sweetness, the docility, and the love of a chastised child has gone +to all our hearts in a way we can never forget. There is something +sometimes almost past description or belief in the way a chastised child +clings to and kisses the hand that chastised it. But poor old +Spare-the-Rod never had experiences like that. And young Obstinate, +having been born like Job’s wild ass’s colt, grew up to +be a man like David’s unbitted and unbridled mule, till in after +life he became the author of all the evil and mischief that is associated +in our minds with his evil name.</p> +<p>In old Spare-the-Rod’s child also this true proverb was fulfilled, +that the child is the father of the man. For all that little Obstinate +had been in the nursery, in the schoolroom, and in the playground—all +that, only in an aggravated way—he was as a youth and as a grown-up +man. For one thing, Obstinate all his days was a densely ignorant +man. He had not got into the way of learning his lessons when +he was a child; he had not been made to learn his lessons when he was +a child; and the dislike and contempt he had for his books as a boy +accompanied him through an ignorant and a narrow-minded life. +It was reason enough to this so unreasonable man not to buy and read +a book that you had asked him to buy and read it. And so many +of the books about him were either written, or printed, or published, +or sold, or read, or praised by people he did not like, that there was +little left for this unhappy man to read, even if otherwise he would +have read it. And thus, as his mulish obstinacy kept him so ignorant, +so his ignorance in turn increased his obstinacy. And then when +he came, as life went on, to have anything to do with other men’s +affairs, either in public or in private life, either in the church, +or in the nation, or in the city, or in the family, this unhappy man +could only be a drag on all kinds of progress, and in obstacle to every +good work. Use and wont, a very good rule on occasion, was a rigid +and a universal rule with Obstinate. And to be told that the wont +in this case and in that had ceased to be the useful, only made him +rail at you as only an ignorant and an obstinate man can rail. +He could only rail; he had not knowledge enough, or good temper enough, +or good manners enough to reason out a matter; he was too hot-tempered +for an argument, and he hated those who had an acquaintance with the +subject in hand, and a self-command in connection with it that he had +not. ‘The obstinate man’s understanding is like Pharaoh’s +heart, and it is proof against all sorts of arguments whatsoever.’ +Like the demented king of Egypt, the obstinate man has glimpses sometimes +both of his bounden duty and of his true interest, but the sinew of +iron that is in his neck will not let him perform the one or pursue +the other. ‘Nothing,’ says a penetrating writer, ‘is +more like firm conviction than simple obstinacy. Plots and parties +in the state, and heresies and divisions in the church alike proceed +from it.’ Let any honest man take that sentence and carry +it like a candle down into his own heart and back into his own life, +and then with the insight and honesty there learned carry the same candle +back through some of the plots and parties, the heresies and schisms +of the past as well as of the present day, and he will have learned +a lesson that will surely help to cure himself, at any rate, of his +own remaining obstinacy. All our firm convictions, as we too easily +and too fondly call them, must continually be examined and searched +out in the light of more reading of the best authors, in the light of +more experience of ourselves and of the world we live in, and in that +best of all light, that increasing purity, simplicity, and sincerity +of heart alone can kindle. And in not a few instances we shall +to a certainty find that what has hitherto been clothing itself with +the honourable name and character of a conviction was all the time only +an ignorant prejudice, a distaste or a dislike, a too great fondness +for ourselves and for our own opinion and our own interest. Many +of our firmest convictions, as we now call them, when we shall have +let light enough fall upon them, we shall be compelled and enabled to +confess to be at bottom mere mulishness and pride of heart. The +mulish, obstinate, and proud man never says, I don’t know. +He never asks anything to be explained to him. He never admits +that he has got any new light. He never admits having spoken or +acted wrongly. He never takes back what he has said. He +was never heard to say, You are right in that line of action, and I +have all along been wrong. Had he ever said that, the day he said +it would have been a white-stone day both for his mind and his heart. +Only, the spoiled son of Spare-the-Rod never said that, or anything +like that.</p> +<p>But, most unfortunately, it is in the very best things of life that +the true mulishness of the obstinate man most comes out. He shows +worst in his home life and in the matters of religion. When our +Obstinate was in love he was as sweet as honey and as soft as butter. +His old friends that he used so to trample upon scarcely recognised +him. They had sometimes seen men converted, but they had never +seen such an immediate and such a complete conversion as this. +He actually invited correction, and reproof, and advice, and assistance, +who had often struck at you with his hands and his feet when you even +hinted at such a thing to him. The best upbringing, the best books, +the best preaching, the best and most obedient life, taken all together, +had not done for other men what a woman’s smile and the touch +of her hand had in a moment done for this once so obstinate man. +He would read anything now, and especially the best books. He +would hear and enjoy any preacher now, and especially the best and most +earnest in preaching. His old likes and dislikes, prejudices and +prepossessions, self-opinionativeness and self-assertiveness all miraculously +melted off him, and he became in a day an open-minded, intelligent, +good-mannered, devout-minded gentleman. He who was once such a +mule to everybody was now led about by a child in a silken bridle. +All old things had passed away, and all things had become new. +For a time; for a time. But time passes, and there passes away +with it all the humility, meekness, pliability, softness, and sweetness +of the obstinate man. Till when long enough time has elapsed you +find him all the obstinate and mulish man he ever was. It is not +that he has ceased to love his wife and his children. It is not +that. But there is this in all genuine and inbred obstinacy, that +after a time it often comes out worst beside those we love best. +A man will be affable, accessible, entertaining, the best of company, +and the soul of it abroad, and, then, instantly he turns the latch-key +in his own door he will relapse into silence, and sink back into utter +boorishness and bearishness, mulishness and doggedness. He swallows +his evening meal at the foot of the table in silence, and then he sits +all night at the fireside with a cloud out of nothing on his brow. +His sunshine, his smile, and his universal urbanity is all gone now; +he is discourteous to nobody but to his own wife. Nothing pleases +him; he finds nothing at home to his mind. The furniture, the +hours, the habits of the house are all disposed so as to please him; +but he was never yet heard to say to wife, or child, or servant that +he was pleased. He never says that a meal is to his taste or a +seat set so as to shelter and repose him. The obstinate man makes +his house a very prison and treadmill to himself and to all those who +are condemned to suffer with him. And all the time it is not that +he does not love and honour his household; but by an evil law of the +obstinate heart its worst obstinacy and mulishness comes out among those +it loves best.</p> +<p>But, my brethren, worse than all that, we have all what good Bishop +Hall calls ‘a stone of obstination’ in our hearts against +God. With all his own depth and clearness and plain-spokenness, +Paul tells us that our hearts are by nature enmity against God. +Were we proud and obstinate and malicious against men only it would +be bad enough, and it would be difficult enough to cure, but our case +is dreadful beyond all description or belief when our obstinacy strikes +out against God. We know as well as we know anything, that in +doing this and in not doing that we are going every day right in the +teeth both of God’s law and God’s grace; and yet in the +sheer obstinacy and perversity of our heart we still go on in what we +know quite well to be the suicide of our souls. We are told by +our minister to do this and not to do that; to begin to do this at this +new year and to break off from doing that; but, partly through obstinacy +towards him, reinforced by a deeper and subtler and deadlier obstinacy +against God, and against all the deepest and most godly of the things +of God, we neither do the one nor cease from doing the other. +There is a sullenness in some men’s minds, a gloom and a bitter +air that rises up from the unploughed, undrained, unweeded, uncultivated +fens of their hearts that chills and blasts all the feeble beginnings +of a better life. The natural and constitutional obstinacy of +the obstinate heart is exasperated when it comes to deal with the things +of God. For it is then reinforced with all the guilt and all the +fear, all the suspicion and all the aversion of the corrupt and self-condemned +heart. There is an obdurateness of obstinacy against all the men, +and the books, and the doctrines, and the precepts, and the practices +that are in any way connected with spiritual religion that does not +come out even in the obstinate man’s family life.</p> +<p>John Bunyan’s Obstinate, both by his conduct as well as by +the etymology of his name, not only stands in the way of his own salvation, +but he does all he can to stand in the way of other men setting out +to salvation also. Obstinate set out after Christian to fetch +him back by force, and if it had not been that he met his match in Christian, +<i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i> would never have been written. +‘That can by no means be,’ said Christian to his pursuer, +and he is first called Christian when he shows that one man can be as +obstinate in good as another man can be in evil. ‘I never +now can go back to my former life.’ And then the two obstinate +men parted company for ever, Christian in holy obstinacy being determined +to have eternal life at any cost, and Obstinate as determined against +it. The opening pages of <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i> set +the two men very graphically and very impressively before us.</p> +<p>As to the cure of obstinacy, the rod in a firm, watchful, wise, and +loving hand will cure it. And in later life a long enough and +close enough succession of humble, yielding, docile, submissive, self-chastening +and thanksgiving acts will cure it. Reading and obeying the best +books on the subjugation and the regulation of the heart will cure it. +Descending with Dante to where the obstinate, and the embittered, and +the gloomy, and the sullen have made their beds in hell will cure it. +And much and most agonising prayer will above all cure it.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘O Lord, if thus so obstinate I,<br /> +Choose Thou, before my spirit die,<br /> +A piercing pain, a killing sin,<br /> +And to my proud heart run them in.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>PLIABLE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘He hath not root in himself.’—Our +Lord.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>With one stroke of His pencil our Lord gives us this Flaxman-like +outline of one of his well-known hearers. And then John Bunyan +takes up that so expressive profile, and puts flesh and blood into it, +till it becomes the well-known Pliable of <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>. +We call the text a parable, but our Lord’s parables are all portraits—portraits +and groups of portraits, rather than ordinary parables. Our Lord +knew this man quite well who had no root in himself. Our Lord +had crowds of such men always running after Him, and He threw off this +rapid portrait from hundreds of men and women who caused discredit to +fall on His name and His work, and burdened His heart continually. +And John Bunyan, with all his genius, could never have given us such +speaking likenesses as that of Pliable and Temporary and Talkative, +unless he had had scores of them in his own congregation.</p> +<p>Our Lord’s short preliminary description of Pliable goes, like +all His descriptions, to the very bottom of the whole matter. +Our Lord in this passage is like one of those masterly artists who begin +their portrait-painting with the study of anatomy. All the great +artists in this walk build up their best portraits from the inside of +their subjects. He hath not root in himself, says our Lord, and +we need no more than that to be told us to foresee how all his outside +religion will end. ‘Without self-knowledge,’ says +one of the greatest students of the human heart that ever lived, ‘you +have no real root in yourselves. Real self-knowledge is the root +of all real religious knowledge. It is a deceit and a mischief +to think that the Christian doctrines can either be understood or aright +accepted by any outward means. It is just in proportion as we +search our own hearts and understand our own nature that we shall ever +feel what a blessing the removal of sin will be; redemption, pardon, +sanctification, are all otherwise mere words without meaning or power +to us. God speaks to us first in our own hearts.’ +Happily for us our Lord has annotated His own text and has told us that +an honest heart is the alone root of all true religion. Honest, +that is, with itself, and with God and man about itself. As David +says in his so honest psalm, ‘Behold, Thou desirest truth in the +inward parts, and in the hidden part Thou shalt make me to know wisdom.’ +And, indeed, all the preachers and writers in Scripture, and all Scriptural +preachers and writers outside of Scripture, are at one in this: that +all true wisdom begins at home, and that it all begins at the heart. +And they all teach us that he is the wisest of men who has the worst +opinion of his own heart, as he is the foolishest of men who does not +know his own heart to be the worst heart that ever any man was cursed +with in this world. ‘Here is wisdom’: not to know +the number of the beast, but to know his mark, and to read it written +so indelibly in our own heart.</p> +<p>And where this first and best of all wisdom is not, there, in our +Lord’s words, there is no deepness of earth, no root, and no fruit. +And any religion that most men have is of this outside, shallow, rootless +description. This was all the religion that poor Pliable ever +had. This poor creature had a certain slight root of something +that looked like religion for a short season, but even that slight root +was all outside of himself. His root, what he had of a root, was +all in Christian’s companionship and impassioned appeals, and +then in those impressive passages of Scripture that Christian read to +him. At your first attention to these things you would think that +no possible root could be better planted than in the Bible and in earnest +preaching. But even the Bible, and, much more, the best preaching, +is all really outside of a man till true religion once gets its piercing +roots down into himself. We have perhaps all heard of men, and +men of no small eminence, who were brought up to believe the teaching +of the Bible and the pulpit, but who, when some of their inherited and +external ideas about some things connected with the Bible began to be +shaken, straightway felt as if all the grounds of their faith were shaken, +and all the roots of their faith pulled up. But where that happened, +all that was because such men’s religion was all rooted outside +of themselves; in the best things outside of themselves, indeed, but +because, in our Lord’s words, their religion was rooted in something +outside of themselves and not inside, they were by and by offended, +and threw off their faith. There is another well-known class of +men all whose religion is rooted in their church, and in their church +not as a member of the body of Christ, but as a social institution set +up in this world. They believe in their church. They worship +their church. They suffer and make sacrifices for their church. +They are proud of the size and the income of their church; her past +contendings and sufferings, and present dangers, all endear their church +to their heart. But if tribulation and persecution arise, that +is to say, if anything arises to vex or thwart or disappoint them with +their church, they incontinently pull up their roots and their religion +with it, and transplant both to any other church that for the time better +pleases them, or to no church at all. Others, again, have all +their religiosity rooted in their family life. Their religion +is all made up of domestic sentiment. They love their earthly +home with that supreme satisfaction and that all-absorbing affection +that truly religious men entertain for their heavenly home. And +thus it is that when anything happens to disturb or break up their earthly +home their rootless religiosity goes with it. Other men’s +religion, again, and all their interest in it, is rooted in their shop; +you can make them anything or nothing in religion, according as you +do or do not do business in their shop. Companionship, also, accounts +for the fluctuations of many men’s, and almost all women’s, +religious lives. If they happen to fall in with godly lovers and +friends, they are sincerely godly with them; but if their companions +are indifferent or hostile to true religion, they gradually fall into +the same temper and attitude. We sometimes see students destined +for the Christian ministry also with all their religion so without root +in themselves that a session in an unsympathetic class, a sceptical +book, sometimes just a sneer or a scoff, will wither all the promise +of their coming service. And so on through the whole of human +life. He that hath not the root of the matter in himself dureth +for a while, but by and by, for one reason or another, he is sure to +be offended.</p> +<p>So much, then,—not enough, nor good enough—for our Lord’s +swift stroke at the heart of His hearers. But let us now pass +on to Pliable, as he so soon and so completely discovers himself to +us under John Bunyan’s so skilful hand. Look well at our +author’s speaking portrait of a well-known man in Bedford who +had no root in himself, and who, as a consequence, was pliable to any +influence, good or bad, that happened to come across him. ‘Don’t +revile,’ are the first words that come from Pliable’s lips, +and they are not unpromising words. Pliable is hurt with Obstinate’s +coarse abuse of the Christian life, till he is downright ashamed to +be seen in his company. Pliable, at least, is a gentleman compared +with Obstinate, and his gentlemanly feelings and his good manners make +him at once take sides with Christian. Obstinate’s foul +tongue has almost made Pliable a Christian. And this finely-conceived +scene on the plain outside the city gate is enacted over again every +day among ourselves. Where men are in dead earnest about religion +it always arouses the bad passions of bad men; and where earnest preachers +and devoted workers are assailed with violence or with bad language, +there is always enough love of fair play in the bystanders to compel +them to take sides, for the time at least, with those who suffer for +the truth. And we are sometimes too apt to count all that love +of common fairness, and that hatred of foul play, as a sure sign of +some sympathy with the hated truth itself. When an onlooker says +‘Don’t revile,’ we are too ready to set down that +expression of civility as at least the first beginning of true religion. +But the religion of Jesus Christ cuts far deeper into the heart of man +than to the dividing asunder of justice and injustice, civility and +incivility, ribaldry and good manners. And it is always found +in the long-run that the cross of Christ and its crucifixion of the +human heart goes quite as hard with the gentlemanly-mannered man, the +civil and urbane man, as it does with the man of bad behaviour and of +brutish manners. ‘Civil men,’ says Thomas Goodwin, +‘are this world’s saints.’ And poor Pliable +was one of them. ‘My heart really inclines to go with my +neighbour,’ said Pliable next. ‘Yes,’ he said, +‘I begin to come to a point. I really think I will go along +with this good man. Yes, I will cast in my lot with him. +Come, good neighbour, let us be going.’</p> +<p>The apocalyptic side of some men’s imaginations is very easily +worked upon. No kind of book sells better among those of our people +who have no root in themselves than just picture-books about heaven. +Our missionaries make use of lantern-slides to bring home the scenes +in the Gospels to the dull minds of their village hearers, and with +good success. And at home a magic-lantern filled with the splendours +of the New Jerusalem would carry multitudes of rootless hearts quite +captive for a time. ‘Well said; and what else? This +is excellent; and what else?’ Christian could not tell Pliable +fast enough about the glories of heaven. ‘There we shall +be with seraphim and cherubim, creatures that will dazzle your eyes +to look on them. There also you shall meet with thousands and +ten thousands who have gone before us to that place. Elders with +golden crowns, and holy virgins with golden harps, and all clothed with +immortality as with a garment.’ ‘The hearing of all +this,’ cried Pliable, ‘is enough to ravish one’s heart.’ +‘An overly faith,’ says old Thomas Shepard, ‘is easily +wrought.’</p> +<p>As if the text itself was not graphic enough, Bunyan’s racy, +humorous, pathetic style overflows the text and enriches the very margins +of his pages, as every possessor of a good edition of <i>The Pilgrim</i> +knows. ‘Christian and Obstinate pull for Pliable’s +soul’ is the eloquent summary set down on the side of the sufficiently +eloquent page. As the picture of a man’s soul being pulled +for rises before my mind, I can think of no better companion picture +to that of Pliable than that of poor, hard-beset Brodie of Brodie, as +he lets us see the pull for his soul in the honest pages of his inward +diary. Under the head of ‘Pliable’ in my Bunyan note-book +I find a crowd of references to Brodie; and if only to illustrate our +author’s marginal note, I shall transcribe one or two of them. +‘The writer of this diary desires to be cast down under the facileness +and plausibleness of his nature, by which he labours to please men more +than God, and whence it comes that the wicked speak good of him . . +. The Lord pity the proneness of his heart to comply with the men who +have the power . . . Lord, he is unsound and double in his heart, politically +crafty, selfish, not savouring nor discerning the things of God . . +. Let not self-love, wit, craft, and timorousness corrupt his mind, +but indue him with fortitude, patience, steadfastness, tenderness, mortification +. . . Shall I expose myself and my family to danger at this time? +A grain of sound faith would solve all my questions.’ ‘Die +Dom. I stayed at home, partly to decline the ill-will and rage +of men and to decline observation.’ Or, take another Sabbath-day +entry: ‘Die Dom. I stayed at home, because of the time, +and the observation, and the Earl of Moray . . . Came to Cuttiehillock. +I am neither cold nor hot. I am not rightly principled as to the +time. I suspect that it is not all conscience that makes me conform, +but wit, and to avoid suffering; Lord, deliver me from all this unsoundness +of heart.’ And after this miserable fashion do heaven and +earth, duty and self-interest, the covenant and the crown pull for Lord +Brodie’s soul through 422 quarto pages. Brodie’s diary +is one of the most humiliating, heart-searching, and heart-instructing +books I ever read. Let all public men tempted and afflicted with +a facile, pliable, time-serving heart have honest Brodie at their elbow.</p> +<p>‘Glad I am, my good companion,’ said Pliable, after the +passage about the cherubim and the seraphim, and the golden crowns and +the golden harps, ‘it ravishes my very heart to hear all this. +Come on, let us mend our pace.’ This is delightful, this +is perfect. How often have we ourselves heard these very words +of challenge and reproof from the pliable frequenters of emotional meetings, +and from the emotional members of an emotional but rootless ministry. +Come on, let us mend our pace! ‘I am sorry to say,’ +replied the man with the burden on his back, ‘that I cannot go +so fast as I would.’ ‘Christian,’ says Mr. Kerr +Bain, ‘has more to carry than Pliable has, as, indeed, he would +still have if he were carrying nothing but himself; and he does have +about him, besides, a few sobering thoughts as to the length and labour +and some of the unforeseen chances of the way.’ And as Dean +Paget says in his profound and powerful sermon on ‘The Disasters +of Shallowness’: ‘Yes, but there is something else first; +something else without which that inexpensive brightness, that easy +hopefulness, is apt to be a frail resourceless growth, withering away +when the sun is up and the hot winds of trial are sweeping over it. +We must open our hearts to our religion; we must have the inward soil +broken up, freely and deeply its roots must penetrate our inner being. +We must take to ourselves in silence and in sincerity its words of judgment +with its words of hope, its sternness with its encouragement, its denunciations +with its promises, its requirements, with its offers, its absolute intolerance +of sin with its inconceivable and divine long-suffering towards sinners.’ +But preaching like this would have frightened away poor Pliable. +He would not have understood it, and what he did understand of it he +would have hated with all his shallow heart.</p> +<p>‘Where are we now?’ called Pliable to his companion, +as they both went over head and ears into the Slough of Despond. +‘Truly,’ said Christian, ‘I do not know.’—No +work of man is perfect, not even the all-but-perfect <i>Pilgrim’s +Progress</i>. Christian was bound to fall sooner or later into +a slough filled with his own despondency about himself, his past guilt, +his present sinfulness, and his anxious future. But Pliable had +not knowledge enough of himself to make him ever despond. He was +always ready and able to mend his pace. He had no burden on his +back, and therefore no doubt in his heart. But Christian had enough +of both for any ten men, and it was Christian’s overflowing despondency +and doubt at this point of the road that suddenly filled his own slough, +and, I suppose, overflowed into a slough for Pliable also. Had +Pliable only had a genuine and original slough of his own to so sink +and be bedaubed in, he would have got out of it at the right side of +it, and been a tender-stepping pilgrim all his days.—‘Is +this the happiness you have told me all this while of? May I get +out of this with my life, you may possess the brave country alone for +me.’ And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, +and got out of the mire on that side of the slough which was next his +own house; so he went away, and Christian saw him no more. ‘The +side of the slough which was next his own house.’ Let us +close with that. Let us go home thinking about that. And +in this trial of faith and patience, and in that, in this temptation +to sin, and in that, in this actual transgression, and in that, let +us always ask ourselves which is the side of the slough that is farthest +away from our own house, and let us still struggle to that side of the +slough, and it will all be well with us at the last.</p> +<h2>HELP</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘I was brought low, and He helped me.’—David.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Slough of Despond is one of John Bunyan’s masterpieces. +In his description of the slough, Bunyan touches his highest water-mark +for humour, and pathos, and power, and beauty of language. If +we did not have the English Bible in our own hands we would have to +ask, as Lord Jeffrey asked Lord Macaulay, where the brazier of Bedford +got his inimitable style. Bunyan confesses to us that he got all +his Latin from the prescription papers of his doctors, and we know that +he got all his perfect English from his English Bible. And then +he got his humour and his pathos out of his own deep and tender heart. +The God of all grace gave a great gift to the English-speaking world +and to the Church of Christ in all lands when He created and converted +John Bunyan, and put it into his head and his heart to compose <i>The +Pilgrim’s Progress</i>. His heart-affecting page on the +slough has been wetted with the tears of thousands of its readers, and +their tears have been mingled with smiles as they read their own sin +and misery, and the never-to-be-forgotten time and place where their +sin and misery first found them out, all told so recognisably, so pathetically, +and so amusingly almost to laughableness in the passage upon the slough. +We see the ocean of scum and filth pouring down into the slough through +the subterranean sewers of the City of Destruction and of the Town of +Stupidity, which lies four degrees beyond the City of Destruction, and +from many other of the houses and haunts of men. We see His Majesty’s +sappers and miners at their wits’ end how to cope with the deluges +of pollution that pour into this slough that they have been ordained +to drain and dry up. For ages and ages the royal surveyors have +been laying out all their skill on this slough. More cartloads +than you could count of the best material for filling up a slough have +been shot into it, and yet you would never know that so much as a single +labourer had emptied his barrow here. True, excellent stepping-stones +have been laid across the slough by skilful engineers, but they are +always so slippery with the scum and slime of the slough, that it is +only now and then that a traveller can keep his feet upon them. +Altogether, our author’s picture of the Slough of Despond is such +a picture that no one who has seen it can ever forget it. But +better than reading the best description of the slough is to see certain +well-known pilgrims trying to cross it. Mr. Fearing at the Slough +of Despond was a tale often told at the tavern suppers of that country. +Never pilgrim attempted the perilous journey with such a chicken-heart +in his bosom as this Mr. Fearing. He lay above a month on the +bank of the slough, and would not even attempt the steps. Some +kind Pilgrims, though they had enough to do to keep the steps themselves, +offered him a hand; but no. And after they were safely over it +made them almost weep to hear the man still roaring in his horror at +the other side. Some bade him go home if he would not take the +steps, but he said that he would rather make his grave in the slough +than go back one hairsbreadth. Till, one sunshiny morning,—no +one knew how, and he never knew how himself—the steps were so +high and dry, and the scum and slime were so low, that this hare-hearted +man made a venture, and so got over. But, then, as an unkind friend +of his said, this pitiful pilgrim had a slough of despond in his own +mind which he carried always and everywhere about with him, and made +him the proverb of despondency that he was and is. Only, that +sunshiny morning he got over both the slough inside of him and outside +of him, and was heard by Help and his family singing this song on the +hither side of the slough: ‘He brought me up also out of an horrible +pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established +my goings.’</p> +<p>Our pilgrim did not have such a good crossing as Mr. Fearing. +Whether it was that the discharge from the city was deeper and fouler, +or that the day was darker, or what, we are not told, but both Christian +and Pliable were in a moment out of sight in the slough. They +both wallowed, says their plain-spoken historian, in the slough, only +the one of the two who had the burden on his back at every wallow went +deeper into the mire; when his neighbour, who had no such burden, instead +of coming to his assistance, got out of the slough at the same side +as he had entered it, and made with all his might for his own house. +But the man called Christian made what way he could, and still tumbled +on to the side of the slough that was farthest from his own house, till +a man called Help gave him his hand and set him upon sound ground. +Christiana, again, and Mercy and the boys found the slough in a far +worse condition than it had ever been found before. And the reason +was not that the country that drained into the slough was worse, but +that those who had the mending of the slough and the keeping in repair +of the steps had so bungled their work that they had marred the way +instead of mending it. At the same time, by the tact and good +sense of Mercy, the whole party got over, Mercy remarking to the mother +of the boys, that if she had as good ground to hope for a loving reception +at the gate as Christiana had, no slough of despond would discourage +her, she said. To which the older woman made the characteristic +reply: ‘You know your sore and I know mine, and we shall both +have enough evil to face before we come to our journey’s end.’</p> +<p>Now, I do not for a moment suppose that there is any one here who +can need to be told what the Slough of Despond in reality is. +Indeed, its very name sufficiently declares it. But if any one +should still be at a loss to understand this terrible experience of +all the pilgrims, the explanation offered by the good man who gave Christian +his hand may here be repeated. ‘This miry slough,’ +he said, ‘is such a place as cannot be mended. This slough +is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends conviction of +sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called by the name of +Despond, for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition +there ariseth in his soul many fears and doubts and discouraging apprehensions, +which all of them get together, and settle in this place, and this is +the reason of the badness of the ground.’ That is the parable, +with its interpretation; but there is a passage in <i>Grace Abounding</i> +which is no parable, and which may even better than this so pictorial +slough describe some men’s condition here. ‘My original +and inward pollution,’ says Bunyan himself in his autobiography, +‘that, that was my plague and my affliction; that, I say, at a +dreadful rate was always putting itself forth within me; that I had +the guilt of to amazement; by reason of that I was more loathsome in +my own eyes than a toad; and I thought I was so in God’s eyes +also. Sin and corruption would bubble up out of my heart as naturally +as water bubbles up out of a fountain. I thought now that every +one had a better heart than I had. I could have changed heart +with anybody. I thought none but the devil himself could equalise +me for inward wickedness and pollution of mind. I fell, therefore, +at the sight of my own vileness, deeply into despair, for I concluded +that this condition in which I was in could not stand with a life of +grace. Sure, thought I, I am forsaken of God; sure I am given +up to the devil, and to a reprobate mind.’</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Let no man, then, count me a fable maker,<br /> +Nor made my name and credit a partaker<br /> +Of their derision: what is here in view,<br /> +Of mine own knowledge I dare say is true.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Sometimes, as with Christian at the slough, a man’s way in +life is all slashed up into sudden ditches and pitfalls out of the sins +of his youth. His sins, by God’s grace, find him out, and +under their arrest and overthrow he begins to seek his way to a better +life and a better world; and then both the burden and the slough have +their explanation and fulfilment in his own life every day. But +it is even more dreadful than a slough in a man’s way to have +a slough in his mind, as both Bunyan himself and Mr. Fearing, his exquisite +creation, had. After the awful-enough slough, filled with the +guilt and fear of actual sin, had been bridged and crossed and left +behind, a still worse slough of inward corruption and pollution rose +up in John Bunyan’s soul and threatened to engulf him altogether. +So terrible to Bunyan was this experience, that he has not thought it +possible to make a parable of it, and so put it into the <i>Pilgrim</i>; +he has kept it rather for the plain, direct, unpictured, personal testimony +of the <i>Grace Abounding</i>. I do not know another passage anywhere +to compare with the eighty-fourth paragraph of <i>Grace Abounding</i> +for hope and encouragement to a great inward sinner under a great inward +sanctification. I commend that powerful passage to the appropriation +of any man here who may have stuck fast in the Slough of Despond to-day, +and who could not on that account come to the Lord’s Table. +Let him still struggle out at the side of the slough farthest from his +own house, and to-night, who can tell, Help may come and give that man +his hand. When the Slough of Despond is drained, and its bottom +laid bare, what a find of all kinds of precious treasures shall be laid +bare! Will you be able to lay claim to any of it when the long-lost +treasure-trove is distributed by command of the King to its rightful +owners?</p> +<p>‘What are you doing there?’ the man whose name was Help +demanded of Christian, as he still wallowed and plunged to the hither +side of the slough, ‘and why did you not look for the steps?’ +And so saying he set Christian’s feet upon sound ground again, +and showed him the nearest way to the gate. Help is one of the +King’s officers who are planted all along the way to the Celestial +City, in order to assist and counsel all pilgrims. Evangelist +was one of those officers; this Help is another; Goodwill will be another, +unless, indeed, he is more than a mere officer; Interpreter will be +another, and Greatheart, and so on. All these are preachers and +pastors and evangelists who correspond to all those names and all their +offices. Only some unhappy preachers are better at pushing poor +pilgrims into the slough, and pushing them down to the bottom of it, +than they are at helping a sinking pilgrim out; while some other more +happy preachers and pastors have their manses built at the hither side +of the slough and do nothing else all their days but help pilgrims out +of their slough and direct them to the gate. And then there are +multitudes of so-called ministers who eat the King’s bread who +can neither push a proud sinner into the slough nor help a prostrate +sinner out of it; no, nor point him the way when he has himself wallowed +out. And then, there are men called ministers, too, who also eat +the King’s bread, whose voice you never hear in connection with +such matters, unless it be to revile both the pilgrims and their helpers, +and all who run with fear and trembling up the heavenly road. +But our pilgrim was happy enough to meet with a minister to whom he +could look back all his remaining pilgrimage and say: ‘He brought +me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my +feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a +new song in my mouth, even praise to our God.’</p> +<p>Now, as might have been expected, there is a great deal said about +all kinds of help in the Bible. After the help of God, of which +the Bible and especially the more experimental Psalms are full, this +fine name is then applied to many Scriptural persons, and on many Scriptural +occasions. The first woman whom God Almighty made bore from her +Maker to her husband this noble name. Her Father, so to speak, +gave her away under this noble name. And of all the sweet and +noble names that a woman bears, there is none so rich, so sweet, so +lasting, and so fruitful as just her first Divine name of a helpmeet. +And how favoured of God is that man to be accounted whose life still +continues to draw meet help out of his wife’s fulness of help, +till all her and his days together he is able to say, I have of God +a helpmeet indeed! For in how many sloughs do many men lie till +this daughter of Help gives them her hand, and out of how many more +sloughs are they all their days by her delivered and kept! Sweet, +maidenly, and most sensible Mercy was a great help to widow Christiana +at the slough, and to her and her sons all the way up to the river—a +very present help in many a need to her future mother-in-law and her +pilgrim sons. Let every young man seek his future wife of God, +and let him seek her of her Divine Father under that fine, homely, divine +name. For God, who knoweth what we have need of before we ask +Him, likes nothing better than to make a helpmeet for those who so ask +Him, and still to bring the woman to the man under that so spouse-like +name.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,<br /> +Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,<br /> +Thy wish exactly to thy heart’s desire.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And then when the apostle is making an enumeration of the various +offices and agencies in the New Testament church of his day, after apostles +and teachers and gifts of healing, he says, ‘helps,’—assistants, +that is, succourers, especially of the sick and the aged and the poor. +And we do not read that either election or ordination was needed to +make any given member of the apostolic church a helper. But we +do read of helpers being found by the apostle among all classes and +conditions of that rich and living church; both sexes, all ages, and +all descriptions of church members bore this fine apostolic name. +‘Salute Urbane, our helper in Christ . . . Greet Priscilla and +Aquila, my helpers in Christ.’ And both Paul and John and +all the apostles were forward to confess in their epistles how much +they owed of their apostolic success, as well as of their personal comfort +and joy, to the helpers, both men and women, their Lord had blessed +them with.</p> +<p>Now, the most part of us here to-night have been at the Lord’s +Table to-day. We kept our feet firm on the steps as we skirted +or crossed the slough that self-examination always fills and defiles +for us before every new communion. And before our Lord let us +rise from His Table this morning. He again said to us: ‘Ye +call Me Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so I am. If I then +have given you My hand, and have helped you, ye ought also to help one +another.’ Who, then, any more will withhold such help as +it is in his power to give to a sinking brother? And you do not +need to go far afield seeking the slough of desponding, despairing, +drowning men. This whole world is full of such sloughs. +There is scarce sound ground enough in this world on which to build +a slough-watcher’s tower. And after it is built, the very +tower itself is soon stained and blinded with the scudding slime. +Where are your eyes, and full of what? Do you not see sloughs +full of sinking men at your very door; ay, and inside of your best built +and best kept house? Your very next neighbour; nay, your own flesh +and blood, if they have nothing else of Greatheart’s most troublesome +pilgrim about them, have at least this, that they carry about a slough +with them in their own mind and in their own heart. Have you only +henceforth a heart and a hand to help, and see if hundreds of sinking +hearts do not cry out your name, and hundreds of slimy hands grasp at +your stretched-out arm. Sloughs of all kinds of vice, open and +secret; sloughs of poverty, sloughs of youthful ignorance, temptation, +and transgression; sloughs of inward gloom, family disquiet and dispute; +lonely grief; all manner of sloughs, deep and miry, where no man would +suspect them. And how good, how like Christ Himself, and how well-pleasing +to Him to lay down steps for such sliding feet, and to lift out another +and another human soul upon sound and solid ground. ‘Know +ye what I have done to you? For I have given you an example, that +ye should do as I have done to you. If ye know these things, happy +are ye if ye do them.’</p> +<h2>MR. WORLDLY-WISEMAN</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Wise in this world.’—Paul.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mr. Worldly-Wiseman has a long history behind him on which we cannot +now enter at any length. As a child, the little worldling, it +was observed, took much after his secular father, but much more after +his scheming mother. He was already a self-seeking, self-satisfied +youth; and when he became a man and began business for himself, no man’s +business flourished like his. ‘Nothing of news,’ says +his biographer in another place, ‘nothing of doctrine, nothing +of alteration or talk of alteration could at any time be set on foot +in the town but be sure Mr. Worldly-Wiseman would be at the head or +tail of it. But, to be sure, he would always decline those he +deemed to be the weakest, and stood always with those, in his way of +thinking, that he supposed were the strongest side.’ He +was a man, it was often remarked, of but one book also. Sunday +and Saturday he was to be found deep in <i>The Architect of Fortune</i>; +<i>or</i>, <i>Advancement in Life</i>, a book written by its author +so as to ‘come home to all men’s business and bosoms.’ +He drove over scrupulously once a Sunday to the State church, of which +he was one of the most determined pillars. He had set his mind +on being Lord Mayor of the town before long, and he was determined that +his eldest son should be called Sir Worldly-Wiseman after him, and he +chose his church accordingly. Another of his biographers in this +connection wrote of him thus: ‘Our Lord Mayor parted his religion +betwixt his conscience and his purse, and he went to church not to serve +God, but to please the king. The face of the law made him wear +the mask of the Gospel, which he used not as a means to save his soul, +but his charges.’ Such, in a short word, was this ‘sottish +man’ who crossed over the field to meet with our pilgrim when +he was walking solitary by himself after his escape from the slough.</p> +<p>‘How now, good fellow? Whither away after this burdened +manner?’ What a contrast those two men were to one another +in the midst of that plain that day! Our pilgrim was full of the +most laborious going; sighs and groans rose out of his heart at every +step; and then his burden on his back, and his filthy, slimy rags all +made him a picture such that it was to any man’s credit and praise +that he should stop to speak to him. And then, when our pilgrim +looked up, he saw a gentleman standing beside him to whom he was ashamed +to speak. For the gentleman had no burden on his back, and he +did not go over the plain laboriously. There was not a spot or +a speck, a rent or a wrinkle on all his fine raiment. He could +not have been better appointed if he had just stepped out of the gate +at the head of the way; they can wear no cleaner garments than his in +the Celestial City itself. ‘How now, good fellow? +Whither away after this burdened manner?’ ‘A burdened +manner, indeed, as ever I think poor creature had. And whereas +you ask me whither away, I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket +gate before me; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put into a way +to be rid of my heavy burden.’ ‘Hast thou a wife and +children?’ Yes; he is ashamed to say that he has. +But he confesses that he cannot to-day take the pleasure in them that +he used to do. Since his sin so came upon him, he is sometimes +as if he had neither wife nor child nor a house over his head. +John Bunyan was of Samuel Rutherford’s terrible experience,—that +our sins and our sinfulness poison all our best enjoyments. We +do not hear much of Rutherford’s wife and children, and that, +no doubt, for the sufficient reason that he gives us in his so open-minded +letter. But Bunyan laments over his blind child with a lament +worthy to stand beside the lament of David over Absalom, and again over +Saul and Jonathan at Mount Gilboa. At the same time, John Bunyan +often felt sore and sad at heart that he could not love and give all +his heart to his wife and children as they deserved to be loved and +to have all his heart. He often felt guilty as he looked on them +and knew in himself that they did not have in him such a father as, +God knew, he wished he was, or ever in this world could hope to be. +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I cannot take the pleasure in +them that I would. I am sometimes as if I had none. My sin +sometimes drives me like a man bereft of his reason and clean demented.’ +‘Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden? I beshrew +him for his counsel. There is not a more troublesome and dangerous +way in the world than this is to which he hath directed thee. +And besides, though I used to have some of the same burden when I was +young, not since I settled in that town,’ pointing to the town +of Carnal-Policy over the plain, ‘have I been at any time troubled +in that way.’ And then he went on to describe and denounce +the way to the Celestial City, and he did it like a man who had been +all over it, and had come back again. His alarming description +of the upward way reads to us like a page out of Job, or Jeremiah, or +David, or Paul. ‘Hear me,’ he says, ‘for I am +older than thou. Thou art like to meet with in the way which thou +goest wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, +lions, dragons, darkness, and in a word, death, and what not.’ +You would think that you were reading the eighth of the Romans at the +thirty-fifth verse; only Mr. Worldly-Wiseman does not go on to finish +the chapter. He does not go on to add, ‘I am persuaded that +neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, +nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any +other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which +is in Jesus Christ our Lord.’ No; Worldly-Wiseman never +reads the Romans, and he never hears a sermon on that chapter when he +goes to church.</p> +<p>Mr. Worldly-Wiseman became positively eloquent and impressive and +all but convincing as he went so graphically and cumulatively over all +the sorrows that attended on the way to which this pilgrim was now setting +his face. But, staggering as it all was, the man in rags and slime +only smiled a sad and sobbing smile in answer, and said: ‘Why, +sir, this burden upon my back is far more terrible to me than all the +things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks I care not what I meet +with in the way, so be I can also meet with deliverance from my burden.’ +This is what our Lord calls a pilgrim having the root of the matter +in himself. This poor soul had by this time so much wearisomeness, +painfulness, hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, +death, and what not in himself, that all these threatened things outside +of himself were but so many bugbears and hobgoblins wherewith to terrify +children; they were but things to be laughed at by every man who is +in ernest in the way. ‘I care not what else I meet with +if only I also meet with deliverance.’ There speaks the +true pilgrim. There speaks the man who drew down the Son of God +to the cross for that man’s deliverance. There speaks the +man, who, mire, and rags, and burdens and all, will yet be found in +the heaven of heavens where the chief of sinners shall see their Deliverer +face to face, and shall at last and for ever be like Him. Peter +examined Dante in heaven on faith, James examined him on hope, and John +took him through his catechism on love, and the seer came out of the +tent with a laurel crown on his brow. I do not know who the examiner +on sin will be, but, speaking for myself on this matter, I would rather +take my degree in that subject than in all the other subjects set for +a sinner’s examination on earth or in heaven. For to know +myself, and especially, as the wise man says, to know the plague of +my own heart, is the true and the only key to all other true knowledge: +God and man; the Redeemer and the devil; heaven and hell; faith, hope, +and charity; unbelief, despair, and malignity, and all things of that +kind else, all knowledge will come to that man who knows himself, and +to that man alone, and to that man in the exact measure in which he +does really know himself. Listen again to this slough-stained, +sin-burdened, sighing and sobbing pilgrim, who, in spite of all these +things—nay, in virtue of all these things—is as sure of +heaven and of the far end of heaven as if he were already enthroned +there. ‘Wearisomeness,’ he protests, ‘painfulness, +hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, death, and +what not—why, sir, this burden on my back is far more terrible +to me than all these things which you have mentioned; nay, methinks +I care not what I meet with in the way, so be I can also meet with deliverance +from my burden.’ O God! let this same mind be found in me +and in all the men and women for whose souls I shall have to answer +at the day of judgment, and I shall be content and safe before Thee.</p> +<p>That strong outburst from this so forfoughten man for a moment quite +overawed Worldly-Wiseman. He could not reply to an earnestness +like this. He did not understand it, and could not account for +it. The only thing he ever was in such earnestness as that about +was his success in business and his title that he and his wife were +scheming for. But still, though silenced by this unaccountable +outburst of our pilgrim, Worldly-Wiseman’s enmity against the +upward way, and especially against all the men and all the books that +made pilgrims take to that way, was not silenced. ‘How camest +thou by thy burden at first?’ By reading this Book in my +hand.’ Worldly-Wiseman did not fall foul of the Book indeed, +but he fell all the more foul of those who meddled with matters they +had not a head for. ‘Leave these high and deep things for +the ministers who are paid to understand and explain them, and attend +to matters more within thy scope.’ And then he went on to +tell of a far better way to get rid of the burden that meddlesome men +brought on themselves by reading that book too much—a far better +and swifter way than attempting the wicket-gate. ‘Thou wilt +never be settled in thy mind till thou art rid of that burden, nor canst +thou enjoy the blessings of wife and child as long as that burden lies +so heavy upon thee.’ That was so true that it made the pilgrim +look up. A gentleman who can speak in that true style must know +more than he says about such burdens as this of mine; and, after all, +he may be able, who knows, to give me some good advice in my great straits. +‘Pray, sir, open this secret to me, for I sorely stand in need +of good counsel.’ Let him here who has no such burden as +this poor pilgrim had cast the first stone at Christian; I cannot. +If one who looked like a gentleman came to me to-night and told me how +I would on the spot get to a peace of conscience never to be lost again, +and how I would get a heart to-night that would never any more plague +and pollute me, I would be mightily tempted to forget what all my former +teachers had told me and try this new Gospel. And especially if +the gentleman said that the remedy was just at hand. ‘Pray, +sir,’ said the breathless and spiritless man, ‘wilt thou, +then, open this secret to me?’</p> +<p>The wit and the humour and the satire of the rest of the scene must +be fully enjoyed over the great book itself. The village named +Morality, hard by the hill; that judicious man Legality, who dwells +in the first house you come at after you have turned the hill; Civility, +the pretty young man that Legality hath to his son; the hospitality +of the village; the low rents and the cheap provisions, and all the +charities and amenities of the place,—all together make up such +a picture as you cannot get anywhere out of John Bunyan. And then +the pilgrim’s stark folly in entering into Worldly-Wiseman’s +secret; his horror as the hill began to thunder and lighten and threaten +to fall upon him; the sudden descent of Evangelist; and then the plain-spoken +words that passed between the preacher and the pilgrim,—don’t +say again that the poorest of the Puritans were without letters, or +that they had not their own esoteric writings full of fun and frolic; +don’t say that again till you are a pilgrim yourself, and have +our John Bunyan for one of your classics by heart.</p> +<p>We are near an end, but before you depart, stand still a little, +as Evangelist said to Christian, that I may show you the words of God. +And first, watch yourselves well, for you all have a large piece of +this worldly-wise man in yourselves. You all take something of +some ancestor, remote or immediate, who was wise only for this world. +Yes, to be sure, for you still decline as they did, and desert as they +did, those you deem to be the weakest, and stand with those that you +suppose to be the strongest side. <i>The Architect of Fortune</i> +is perhaps too strong meat for your stomach; but still, if you ever +light upon its powerful pages, you will surely blush in secret to see +yourself turned so completely inside out. You may not have chosen +your church wholly with an eye to your shop; but you must admit that +you see as good and better men than you are doing that every day. +And it is a sure sign to you that you do not yet know the plague of +your own heart, unless you know yourself to be a man more set upon the +position and the praise that this world gives than you yet are on the +position and the praise that come from God only. Set a watch on +your own worldly heart. Watch and pray, lest you also enter into +all Worldly-Wiseman’s temptation. This is one of the words +of God to you.</p> +<p>Another word of God is this. The way of the cross, said severe +Evangelist, is odious to every worldly-wise man; while, all the time, +it is the only way there is, and there never will be any other way to +eternal life. The only way to life is the way of the cross. +There are two crosses, indeed, on the way to the Celestial City; there +is, first, the Cross of Christ, once for you, and then there is your +cross daily for Christ, and it takes both crosses to secure and to assure +any man that he is on the right road, and that he will come at last +to the right end. ‘The Christian’s great conquest +over the world,’ says William Law, ‘is all contained in +the mystery of Christ upon the cross. And true Christianity is +nothing else but an entire and absolute conformity to that spirit which +Christ showed in the mysterious sacrifice of Himself upon the cross. +Every man is only so far a Christian as he partakes of this same spirit +of Christ—the same suffering spirit, the same sacrifice of himself, +the same renunciation of the world, the same humility and meekness, +the same patient bearing of injuries, reproaches, and contempts, the +same dying to all the greatness, honours, and happiness of this world +that Christ showed on the cross. We also are to suffer, to be +crucified, to die, to rise with Christ, or else His crucifixion, His +death, and His resurrection will profit us nothing. ‘This +is the second word of God unto thee. And the third thing to-night +is this, that though thy sin be very great, though thou hast a past +life round thy neck enough to sink thee for ever out of the sight of +God and all good men; a youth of sensuality now long and closely cloaked +over with an after life of worldly prosperity, worldly decency, and +worldly religion, all which only makes thee that whited sepulchre that +Christ has in His eye when He speaks of thee with such a severe and +dreadful countenance; yet if thou confess thyself to be all the whited +sepulchre He sees thee to be, and yet knock at His gate in all thy rags +and slime, He will immediately lay aside that severe countenance and +will show thee all His goodwill. Notwithstanding all that thou +hast done, and all thou still art, He will not deny His own words, or +do otherwise than at once fulfil them all to thee. Ask, then, +and it shall be given thee; seek, and thou shalt find; knock, and it +shall be opened unto thee. And with a great goodwill, He will +say to those that stand by Him, Take away the filthy garments from him. +And to thee He will say, Behold, I have caused all thine iniquity to +pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment.</p> +<h2>GOODWILL, THE GATEKEEPER</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Goodwill.’—Luke 2. 14.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘So in process of time Christian got up to the gate. +Now there was written over the gate, <i>Knock</i>, <i>and it shall be +opened unto you</i>. He knocked, therefore, more than once or +twice, saying, May I now enter here? when at last there came a grave +person to the gate, named Goodwill, who asked him who was there?’ +The gravity of the gatekeeper was the first thing that struck the pilgrim. +And it was the same thing that so struck some of the men who saw most +of our Lord that they handed down to their children the true tradition +that He was often seen in tears, but that no one had ever seen or heard +Him laugh. The prophecy in the prophet concerning our Lord was +fulfilled to the letter. He was indeed a man of sorrows, and He +early and all His life long had a close acquaintance with grief. +Our Lord had come into this world on a very sad errand. We are +so stupefied and besotted with sin, that we have no conception how sad +an errand our Lord had been sent on, and how sad a task He soon discovered +it to be. To be a man without sin, a man hating sin, and hating +nothing else but sin, and yet to have to spend all His days in a world +lying in sin, and in the end to have all that world of sin laid upon +Him till He was Himself made sin,—how sad a task was that! +Great, no doubt, as was the joy that was set before our Lord, and sure +as He was of one day entering on that joy, yet the daily sight of so +much sin in all men around Him, and the cross and the shame that lay +right before Him, made Him, in spite of the future joy, all the Man +of Sorrow Isaiah had said He would be, and made light-mindedness and +laughter impossible to our Lord,—as it is, indeed, to all men +among ourselves who have anything of His mind about this present world +and the sin of this world, they also are men of sorrow, and of His sorrow. +They, too, are acquainted with grief. Their tears, like His, will +never be wiped off in this world. They will not laugh with all +their heart till they laugh where He now laughs. Then it will +be said of them, too, that they began to be merry. ‘What +was the matter with you that you did laugh in your sleep last night? +asked Christiana of Mercy in the morning. I suppose you were in +a dream. So I was, said Mercy, but are you sure that I laughed? +Yes, you laughed heartily; but, prithee, Mercy, tell me thy dream. +Well, I dreamed that I was in a solitary place and all alone, and was +there bemoaning the hardness of my heart, when methought I saw one coming +with wings towards me. So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, +what aileth thee? Now, when he heard my complaint, he said, Peace +be to thee. He also wiped mine eyes with his handkerchief, and +clad me in silver and gold; he put a chain about my neck also, and earrings +in mine ears, and a beautiful crown upon my head. So he went up. +I followed him till we came to a golden gate; and I thought I saw your +husband there. But did I laugh? Laugh! ay, and well you +might, to see yourself so well.’</p> +<p>But to return and begin again. Goodwill, who opened the gate, +was, as we saw, a person of a very grave and commanding aspect; so much +so, that in his sudden joy our pilgrim was a good deal overawed as he +looked on the countenance of the man who stood in the gate, and it was +some time afterwards before he understood why he wore such a grave and +almost sad aspect. But afterwards, as he went up the way, and +sometimes returned in thought to the wicket-gate, he came to see very +good reason why the keeper of that gate looked as he did look. +The site and situation of the gate, for one thing, was of itself enough +to banish all light-mindedness from the man who was stationed there. +For the gatehouse stood just above the Slough of Despond, and that itself +filled the air of the place with a dampness and a depression that could +be felt. And then out of the downward windows of the gate, the +watcher’s eye always fell on the City of Destruction in the distance, +and on her sister cities sitting like her daughters round about her. +And that also made mirth and hilarity impossible at that gate. +And then the kind of characters who came knocking all hours of the day +and the night at that gate. Goodwill never saw a happy face or +heard a cheerful voice from one year’s end to the other. +And when any one so far forgot himself as to put on an untimely confidence +and self-satisfaction, the gatekeeper would soon put him through such +questions as quickly sobered him if he had anything at all of the root +of the matter in him. Terror, horror, despair, remorse, chased +men and women up to that gate. They would often fall before his +threshold more dead than alive. And then, after the gate was opened +and the pilgrims pulled in, the gate had only opened on a path of such +painfulness, toil, and terrible risk, that at whatever window Goodwill +looked out, he always saw enough to make him and keep him a grave, if +not a sad, man. It was, as he sometimes said, his meat and his +drink to keep the gate open for pilgrims; but the class of men who came +calling themselves pilgrims; the condition they came in; the past, that +in spite of all both he and they could do, still came in through his +gate after them, and went up all the way with them; their ignorance +of the way, on which he could only start them; the multitudes who started, +and the handfuls who held on; the many who for a time ran well, but +afterwards left their bones to bleach by the wayside; and all the impossible-to-be-told +troubles, dangers, sorrows, shipwrecks that certainly lay before the +most steadfast and single-hearted pilgrim—all that was more than +enough to give the man at the gate his grave and anxious aspect.</p> +<p>Not that his great gravity, with all the causes of it, ever made +him a melancholy, a morose, a despairing, or even a desponding man. +Far from that. The man of sorrows Himself sometimes rejoiced in +spirit. Not sometimes only, but often He lifted up His heart and +thanked His Father for the work His Father had given Him to do, and +for the success that had been granted to Him in the doing of it. +And as often as He looked forward to the time when he should finish +His work and receive His discharge, and return to His Father’s +house, at the thought of that He straightway forgot all His present +sorrows. And somewhat so was it with Goodwill at his gate. +No man could be but at bottom happy, and even joyful, who had a post +like his to occupy, a gate like his to keep, and, altogether, a work +like his to do. No man with his name and his nature can ever in +any circumstances be really unhappy. ‘Happiness is the bloom +that always lies on a life of true goodness,’ and this gatehouse +was full of the happiness that follows on and always dwells with true +goodness. Goodwill cannot have more happiness till he shuts in +his last pilgrim into the Celestial City, and then himself enters in +after him as a shepherd after a lost sheep.</p> +<p>The happy, heavenly, divine disposition of the gatekeeper was such, +that it overflowed from the pilgrim who stood beside him and descended +upon his wife and children who remained behind him in the doomed city. +So full of love was the gatekeeper’s heart, that it ran out upon +Obstinate and Pliable also. His heart was so large and so hospitable, +that he was not satisfied with one pilgrim received and assisted that +day. How is it, he asked, that you have come here alone? +Did any of your neighbours know of your coming? And why did he +who came so far not come through? Alas, poor man, said Goodwill, +is the celestial glory of so little esteem with him that he counteth +it not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it? +Our pilgrim got a lifelong lesson in goodwill to all men at that gate +that day. The gatekeeper showed such deep and patient and genuine +interest in all the pilgrim’s past history, and in all his family +and personal affairs, that Christian all his days could never show impatience, +or haste, or lack of interest in the most long-winded and egotistical +pilgrim he ever met. He always remembered, when he was becoming +impatient, how much of his precious time and of his loving attention +his old friend Goodwill had given to him. Our pilgrim got tired +of talking about himself long before Goodwill had ceased to ask questions +and to listen to the answers. So much was Christian taken with +the courtesy and the kindness of Goodwill, that had it not been for +his crushing burden, he would have offered to remain in Goodwill’s +house to run his errands, to light his fires, and to sweep his floors. +So much was he taken captive with Goodwill’s extraordinary kindness +and unwearied attention. And since he could not remain at the +gate, but must go on to the city of all goodwill itself, our pilgrim +set himself all his days to copy this gatekeeper when he met with any +fellow-pilgrim who had any story that he wished to tell. And many +were the lonely and forgotten souls that Christian cheered and helped +on, not by his gold or his silver, nor by anything else, but just by +his open ear. To listen with patience and with attention to a +fellow-pilgrim’s wrongs and sorrows, and even his smallest interests, +said this Christian to himself, is just what Goodwill so winningly did +to me.</p> +<p>With all his goodwill the grave gatekeeper could not say that the +way to the Celestial City was other than a narrow, a stringent, and +a heart-searching way. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘and +I will tell thee the way thou must go.’ There are many wide +ways to hell, and many there be who crowd them, but there is only one +way to heaven, and you will sometimes think you must have gone off it, +there are so few companions; sometimes there will be only one footprint, +with here and there a stream of blood, and always as you proceed, it +becomes more and more narrow, till it strips a man bare, and sometimes +threatens to close upon him and crush him to the earth altogether. +Our Lord in as many words tells us all that. Strive, He says, +strive every day. For many shall seek to enter into the way of +salvation, but because they do not early enough, and long enough, and +painfully enough strive, they come short, and are shut out. Have +you, then, anything in your religious life that Christ will at last +accept as the striving He intended and demanded? Does your religion +cause you any real effort—Christ calls it <i>agony</i>? +Have you ever had, do you ever have, anything that He would so describe? +What cross do you every day take up? In what thing do you every +day deny yourself? Name it. Put your finger on it. +Write it in cipher on the margin of your Bible. Would the most +liberal judgment be able to say of you that you have any fear and trembling +in the work of your salvation? If not, I am afraid there must +be some mistake somewhere. There must be great guilt somewhere. +At your parents’ door, or at your minister’s, or, if their +hands are clean, then at your own. Christ has made it plain to +a proverb, and John Bunyan has made it a nursery and a schoolboy story, +that the way to heaven is steep and narrow and lonely and perilous. +And that, remember, not a few of the first miles of the way, but all +the way, and even through the dark valley itself. ‘Almost +all that is said in the New Testament of men’s watching, giving +earnest heed to themselves, running the race that is set before them, +striving and agonising, fighting, putting on the whole armour of God, +pressing forward, reaching forth, crying to God day and night; I say, +almost all that we have in the New Testament on these subjects is spoken +and directed to the saints. Where those things are applied to +sinners seeking salvation once, they are spoken of the saints’ +prosecution of their salvation ten times’ (Jonathan Edwards). +If you have a life at all like that, you will be sorely tempted to think +that such suffering and struggle, increasing rather than diminishing +as life goes on, is a sign that you are so bad as not to be a true Christian +at all. You will be tempted to think and say so. But all +the time the truth is, that he who has not that labouring, striving, +agonising, fearing, and trembling in himself, knows nothing at all about +the religion of Christ and the way to heaven; and if he thinks he does, +then that but proves him a hypocrite, a self-deceived, self-satisfied +hypocrite; there is not an ounce of a true Christian in him. Says +Samuel Rutherford on this matter: ‘Christ commandeth His hearers +to a strict and narrow way, in mortifying heart-lusts, in loving our +enemy, in feeding him when he is hungry, in suffering for Christ’s +sake and the gospel’s, in bearing His cross, in denying ourselves, +in becoming humble as children, in being to all men and at all times +meek and lowly in heart.’ Let any man lay all that intelligently +and imaginatively alongside of his own daily life. Let him name +some such heart-lust. Let him name also some enemy, and ask himself +what it is to love that man, and to feed him in his hunger; what it +is in which he is called to suffer for Christ’s sake and the gospel’s, +in his reputation, in his property, in his business, in his feelings. +Let him put his finger on something in which he is every day to deny +himself, and to be humble and teachable, and to keep himself out of +sight like a little child; and if that man does not find out how narrow +and heart-searching the way to heaven is, he will be the first who has +so found his way thither. No, no; be not deceived. Deceive +not yourself, and let no man deceive you. God is not mocked, neither +are His true saints. ‘Would to God I were back in my pulpit +but for one Sabbath,’ said a dying minister in Aberdeen. +‘What would you do?’ asked a brother minister at his bedside. +‘I would preach to the people the difficulty of salvation,’ +he said. All which things are told, not for purposes of debate +or defiance, but to comfort and instruct God’s true people who +are finding salvation far more difficult than anybody had ever told +them it would be. Comfort My people, saith your God. Speak +comfortably to My people. Come, said Goodwill, and I will teach +thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee, dost thou see +that narrow way? That is the way thou must go. And then +thou mayest always distinguish the right way from the wrong. The +wrong is crooked and wide, and the right is straight as a rule can make +it,—straight and narrow.</p> +<p>Goodwill said all that in order to direct and to comfort the pilgrim; +but that was not all that this good man said with that end. For, +when Christian asked him if he could not help him off with his burden +that was upon his back, he told him: ‘As to thy burden, be content +to bear it until thou comest to the place of deliverance, for there +it will fall from thy back of itself.’ Get you into the +straight and narrow way, says Goodwill, with his much experience of +the ways and fortunes of true pilgrims; get you sure into the right +way, and leave your burden to God. He appoints the place of deliverance, +and it lies before thee. The place of thy deliverance cannot be +behind thee, and it is not in my house, else thy burden would have been +already off. But it is before thee. Be earnest, therefore, +in the way. Look not behind thee. Go not into any crooked +way; and one day, before you know, and when you are not pulling at it, +your burden will fall off of itself. Be content to bear it till +then, says bold and honest Goodwill, speaking so true to pilgrim experience. +Yes; be content, O ye people of God, crying with this pilgrim for release +from your burden of guilt, and no less those of you who are calling +with Paul for release from the still more bitter and crushing burden +made up of combined guilt and corruption. Be content till the +place and the time of deliverance; nay, even under your burden and your +bonds be glad, as Paul was, and go up the narrow way, still chanting +to yourself, I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord. It is +only becoming that a great sinner should tarry the Lord’s leisure; +all the more that the greatest sinner may be sure the Lord will come, +and will not tarry. The time is long, but the thing is sure.</p> +<p>And now two lessons from Goodwill’s gate:—</p> +<p>1. The gate was shut when Christian came up to it, and no one +was visible anywhere about it. The only thing visible was the +writing over the gate which told all pilgrims to knock. Now, when +we come up to the same gate we are disappointed and discouraged that +the gatekeeper is not standing already upon his doorstep and his arms +round our neck. We knelt to-day in secret prayer, and there was +only our bed or our chair visible before us. There was no human +being, much less to all appearance any Divine Presence, in the place. +And we prayed a short, indeed, but a not unearnest prayer, and then +we rose up and came away disappointed because no one appeared. +But look at him who is now inheriting the promises. He knocked, +says his history, more than once or twice. That is to say, he +did not content himself with praying one or two seconds and then giving +over, but he continued in prayer till the gatekeeper came. And +as he knocked, he said, so loud and so impatient that all those in the +gatehouse could hear him,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘May I now enter here? Will he within<br /> +Open to sorry me, though I have been<br /> +A wandering rebel? Then shall I<br /> +Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>2. ‘We make no objections against any,’ said Goodwill; +‘notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither, +they are in no wise cast out.’ He told me all things that +ever I did, said the woman of Samaria, telling her neighbours about +our Lord’s conversation with her. And, somehow, there was +something in the gatekeeper’s words that called back to Christian, +if not all the things he had ever done, yet from among them the worst +things he had ever done. They all rose up black as hell before +his eyes as the gatekeeper did not name them at all, but only said ‘notwithstanding +all that thou hast done.’ Christian never felt his past +life so black, or his burden so heavy, or his heart so broken, as when +Goodwill just said that one word ‘notwithstanding.’ +‘We make no objections against any; notwithstanding all that they +have done before they come hither, they are in no wise cast out.’</p> +<h2>THE INTERPRETER</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘An interpreter, one among a thousand.’—Elihu.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We come to-night to the Interpreter’s House. And since +every minister of the gospel is an interpreter, and every evangelical +church is an interpreter’s house, let us gather up some of the +precious lessons to ministers and to people with which this passage +of the <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> so much abounds.</p> +<p>1. In the first place, then, I observe that the House of the +Interpreter stands just beyond the Wicket Gate. In the whole topography +of the <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> there lies many a deep lesson. +The church that Mr. Worldly-Wiseman supported, and on the communion +roll of which he was so determined to have our pilgrim’s so unprepared +name, stood far down on the other side of Goodwill’s gate. +It was a fine building, and it had an eloquent man for its minister, +and the whole service was an attraction and an enjoyment to all the +people of the place; but our Interpreter was never asked to show any +of his significant things there; and, indeed, neither minister nor people +would have understood him had he ever done so. And had any of +the parishioners from below the gate ever by any chance stumbled into +the Interpreter’s house, his most significant rooms would have +had no significance to them. Both he and his house would have +been a mystery and an offence to Worldly-Wiseman, his minister, and +his fellow-worshippers. John Bunyan has the clear warrant both +of Jesus Christ and the Apostle Paul for the place on which he has planted +the Interpreter’s house. ‘It is given to you,’ +said our Lord to His disciples, ‘to know the mysteries of the +Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it is not given.’ And Paul +tells us that ‘the natural man receiveth not the things of the +Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know +them, because they are spiritually discerned.’ And, accordingly, +no reader of the <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> will really understand +what he sees in the Interpreter’s House, unless he is already +a man of a spiritual mind. Intelligent children enjoy the pictures +and the people that are set before them in this illustrated house, but +they must become the children of God, and must be well on in the life +of God, before they will be able to say that the house next the gate +has been a profitable and a helpful house to them. All that is +displayed here—all the furniture and all the vessels, all the +ornaments and all the employments and all the people of the Interpreter’s +House—is fitted and intended to be profitable as well as interesting +to pilgrims only. No man has any real interest in the things of +this house, or will take any abiding profit out of it, till he is fairly +started on the upward road. In his former life, and while still +on the other side of the gate, our pilgrim had no interest in such things +as he is now to see and hear; and if he had seen and heard them in his +former life, he would not, with all the Interpreter’s explanation, +have understood them. As here among ourselves to-night, they who +will understand and delight in the things they hear in this house to-night +are those only who have really begun to live a religious life. +The realities of true religion are now the most real things in life—to +them; they love divine things now; and since they began to love divine +things, you cannot entertain them better than by exhibiting and explaining +divine things to them. There is no house in all the earth, after +the gate itself, that is more dear to the true pilgrim heart than just +the Interpreter’s House. ‘I was glad when it was said +to me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. Peace be within thy +walls, and prosperity within thy palaces.’</p> +<p>2. And besides being built on the very best spot in all the +land for its owner’s purposes, every several room in that great +house was furnished and fitted up for the entertainment and instruction +of pilgrims. Every inch of that capacious and many-chambered house +was given up to the delectation of pilgrims. The public rooms +were thrown open for their convenience and use at all hours of the day +and night, and the private rooms were kept retired and secluded for +such as sought retirement and seclusion. There were dark rooms +also with iron cages in them, till Christian and his companions came +out of those terrible places, bringing with them an everlasting caution +to watchfulness and a sober mind. There were rooms also given +up to vile and sordid uses. One room there was full of straws +and sticks and dust, with an old man who did nothing else day nor night +but wade about among the straws and sticks and dust, and rake it all +into little heaps, and then sit watching lest any one should overturn +them. And then, strange to tell it, and not easy to get to the +full significance of it, the bravest room in all the house had absolutely +nothing in it but a huge, ugly, poisonous spider hanging to the wall +with her hands. ‘Is there but one spider in all this spacious +room?’ asked the Interpreter. And the water stood in Christiana’s +eyes; she had come by this time thus far on her journey also. +She was a woman of a quick apprehension, and the water stood in her +eyes at the Interpreter’s question, and she said: ‘Yes, +Lord, there is here more than one. Yea, and spiders whose venom +is far more destructive than that which is in her.’ The +Interpreter then looked pleasantly on her, and said: ‘Thou hast +said the truth.’ This made Mercy blush, and the boys to +cover their faces, for they all began now to understand the riddle. +‘This is to show you,’ said the Interpreter, ‘that +however full of the venom of sin you may be, yet you may, by the hand +of faith, lay hold of, and dwell in the best room that belongs to the +King’s House above.’ Then they all seemed to be glad, +but the water stood in their eyes. A wall also stood apart on +the grounds of the house with an always dying fire on one side of it, +while a man on the other side of the wall continually fed the fire through +hidden openings in the wall. A whole palace stood also on the +grounds, the inspection of which so kindled our pilgrim’s heart, +that he refused to stay here any longer, or to see any more sights—so +much had he already seen of the evil of sin and of the blessedness of +salvation. Not that he had seen as yet the half of what that house +held for the instruction of pilgrims. Only, time would fail us +to visit the hen and her chickens; the butcher killing a sheep and pulling +her skin over her ears, and she lying still under his hands and taking +her death patiently; also the garden with the flowers all diverse in +stature, and quality, and colour, and smell, and virtue, and some better +than some, and all where the gardener had set them, there they stand, +and quarrel not with one another. The robin-red-breast also, so +pretty of note and colour and carriage, but instead of bread and crumbs, +and such like harmless matter, with a great spider in his mouth. +A tree also, whose inside was rotten, and yet it grew and had leaves. +So they went on their way and sang:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘This place hath been our second stage,<br /> +Here have we heard and seen<br /> +Those good things that from age to age<br /> +To others hid have been.<br /> +The butcher, garden, and the field,<br /> +The robin and his bait,<br /> +Also the rotten tree, doth yield<br /> +Me argument of weight;<br /> +To move me for to watch and pray,<br /> +To strive to be sincere,<br /> +To take my cross up day by day,<br /> +And serve the Lord with few.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The significant rooms of that divine house instruct us also that +all the lessons requisite for our salvation are not to be found in any +one scripture or in any one sermon, but that all that is required by +any pilgrim or any company of pilgrims should all be found in every +minister’s ministry as he leads his flock on from one Sabbath-day +to another, rightly dividing the word of truth. Our ministers +should have something in their successive sermons for everybody. +Something for the children, something for the slow-witted and the dull +of understanding, and something specially suited for those who are of +a quick apprehension; something at one time to make the people smile, +at another time to make them blush, and at another time to make the +water stand in their eyes.</p> +<p>3. And, then, the Interpreter’s life was as full of work +as his house was of entertainment and instruction. Not only so, +but his life, it was well known, had been quite as full of work before +he had a house to work for as ever it had been since. The Interpreter +did nothing else but continually preside over his house and all that +was in it and around it, and it was all gone over and seen to with his +own eyes and hands every day. He had been present at the laying +of every stone and beam of that solid and spacious house of his. +There was not a pin nor a loop of its furniture, there was not a picture +on its walls, nor a bird nor a beast in its woods and gardens, that +he did not know all about and could not hold discourse about. +And then, after he had taken you all over his house, with its significant +rooms and woods and gardens, he was full all supper-time of all wise +saws and witty proverbs. ‘One leak will sink a ship,’ +he said that night, ‘and one sin will destroy a sinner.’ +And all their days the pilgrims remembered that word from the Interpreter’s +lips, and they often said it to themselves as they thought of their +own besetting sin. Now, if it is indeed so, that every gospel +minister is an interpreter, and every evangelical church an interpreter’s +house, what an important passage this is for all those who are proposing +and preparing to be ministers. Let them reflect upon it: what +a house this is that the Interpreter dwells in; how early and how long +ago he began to lay out his grounds and to build his house upon them; +how complete in all its parts it is, and how he still watches and labours +to have it more complete. Understandest thou what thou here readest? +it is asked of all ministers, young and old, as they turn over John +Bunyan’s pungent pages. And every new room, every new bird, +and beast, and herb, and flower makes us blush for shame as we contrast +our own insignificant and ill-furnished house with the noble house of +the Interpreter. Let all our students who have not yet fatally +destroyed themselves and lost their opportunity lay the Interpreter’s +House well to heart. Let them be students not in idle name only, +as so many are, but in intense reality, as so few are. Let them +read everything that bears upon the Bible, and let them read nothing +that does not. They have not the time nor the permission. +Let them be content to be men of one book. Let them give themselves +wholly to the interpretation of divine truth as its riddles are set +in nature and in man, in scripture, in providence, and in spiritual +experience. Let them store their memories at college with all +sacred truth, and with all secular truth that can be made sacred. +And if their memories are weak and treacherous, let them be quiet under +God’s will in that, and all the more labour to make up in other +ways for that defect, so that they may have always something to say +to the purpose when their future people come up to church hungry for +instruction and comfort and encouragement. Let them look around +and see the sin that sinks the ship of so many ministers; and let them +begin while yet their ship is in the yard and see that she is fitted +up and furnished, stored and stocked, so that she shall in spite of +sure storms and sunken rocks deliver her freight in the appointed haven. +When they are lying in bed of a Sabbath morning, let them forecast the +day when they shall have to give a strict account of their eight years +of golden opportunity among the churches, and the classes, and the societies, +and the libraries of our university seats. Let them be able to +name some great book, ay, more than one great book, they mastered, for +every year of their priceless and irredeemable student life. Let +them all their days have old treasure-houses that they filled full with +scholarship and with literature and with all that will minister to a +congregation’s many desires and necessities, collected and kept +ready from their student days. ‘Meditate upon these things; +give thyself wholly up to them, that thy profiting may appear unto all.’</p> +<p>4. And then with a sly stroke at us old ministers, our significant +author points out to us how much better furnished the Interpreter’s +House was by the time Christiana and the boys visited it compared with +that early time when Christian was entertained in it. Our pilgrim +got far more in the Interpreter’s House of delight and instruction +than he could carry out of it, but that did not tempt the Interpreter +to sit down and content himself with taking all his future pilgrims +into the same room, and showing them the same pictures, and repeating +to them the same explanations. No, for he reflected that each +coming pilgrim would need some new significant room to himself, and +therefore, as soon as he got one pilgrim off his hands, he straightway +set about building and furnishing new rooms, putting up new pictures, +and replenishing his woods and his waters with new beasts and birds +and fishes. I am ashamed, he said, that I had so little to show +when I first opened my gates to receive pilgrims, and I do not know +why they came to me as they did. I was only a beginner in these +things when my first visitor came to my gates. Let every long-settled, +middle-aged, and even grey-headed minister read the life of the Interpreter +at this point and take courage and have hope. Let it teach us +all to break some new ground in the field of divine truth with every +new year. Let it teach us all to be students all our days. +Let us buy, somehow, the poorest and the oldest of us, some new and +first-rate book every year. Let us not indeed shut up altogether +our old rooms if they ever had anything significant in them, but let +us add now a new wing to our spiritual house, now a new picture to its +walls, and now a new herb to its gardens. ‘Resolved,’ +wrote Jonathan Edwards, ‘that as old men have seldom any advantage +of new discoveries, because these are beside a way of thinking they +have been long used to; resolved, therefore, if ever I live to years, +that I will be impartial to hear the reasons of all pretended discoveries, +and receive them, if rational, how long soever I have been used to another +way of thinking.’</p> +<p>5. The fickle, frivolous, volatile character of so many divinity +students is excellently hit off by Bunyan in our pilgrim’s impatience +to be out of the Interpreter’s House. No sooner had he seen +one or two of the significant rooms than this easily satisfied student +was as eager to get out of that house as he had been to get in. +Twice over the wise and learned Interpreter had to beg and beseech this +ignorant and impulsive pilgrim to stop and get another lesson in the +religious life before he left the great school-house. All our +professors of divinity and all our ministers understand the parable +at this point only too well. Their students are eager to get into +their classes; like our pilgrim, they have heard the fame of this and +that teacher, and there is not standing-room in the class for the first +weeks of the session. But before Christmas there is room enough +for strangers, and long before the session closes, half the students +are counting the weeks and plotting to petition the Assembly against +the length and labour of the curriculum. Was there ever a class +that was as full and attentive at the end of the session as it was at +the beginning? Never since our poor human nature was so stricken +with laziness and shallowness and self-sufficiency. But what is +the chaff to the wheat? It is the wheat that deserves and repays +the husbandman’s love and labour. When Plato looked up from +his desk in the Academy, after reading and expounding one of his greatest +Dialogues, he found only one student left in the class-room, but then, +that student was Aristotle. ‘Now let me go,’ said +Christian. ‘Nay, stay,’ said the Interpreter, ‘till +I have showed thee a little more.’ ‘Sir, is it not +time for me to go?’ ‘Do tarry till I show thee just +one thing more.’</p> +<p>6. ‘Here have I seen things rare and profitable,</p> +<p>. . . Then let me be</p> +<p>Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.’</p> +<p>Sydney Smith, with his usual sagacity, says that the last vice of +the pulpit is to be uninteresting. Now, the Interpreter’s +House had this prime virtue in it, that it was all interesting. +Do not our children beg of us on Sabbath nights to let them see the +Interpreter’s show once more; it is so inexhaustibly and unfailingly +interesting? It is only stupid men and women who ever weary of +it. But, ‘profitable’ was the one and universal word +with which all the pilgrims left the Interpreter’s House. +‘Rare and pleasant,’ they said, and sometimes ‘dreadful;’ +but it was always ‘profitable.’ Now, how seldom do +we hear our people at the church door step down into the street saying, +‘profitable’? If they said that oftener their ministers +would study profit more than they do. The people say ‘able,’ +or ‘not at all able’; ‘eloquent,’ or ‘stammering +and stumbling’; ‘excellent’ in style and manner and +accent, or the opposite of all that; and their ministers, to please +the people and to earn their approval, labour after these approved things. +But if the people only said that the prayers and the preaching were +profitable and helpful, even when they too seldom are, then our preachers +would set the profit of the people far more before them both in selecting +and treating and delivering their Sabbath-day subjects. A lady +on one occasion said to her minister, ‘Sir, your preaching does +my soul good.’ And her minister never forgot the grave and +loving look with which that was said. Not only did he never forget +it, but often when selecting his subject, and treating it, and delivering +it, the question would rise in his heart and conscience, Will that do +my friend’s soul any good? ‘Rare and profitable,’ +said the pilgrim as he left the gate; and hearing that sent the Interpreter +back with new spirit and new invention to fill his house of still more +significant, rare, and profitable things than ever before. ‘Meditate +on these things,’ said Paul to Timothy his son in the gospel, +‘that thy profiting may appear unto all.’ ‘Thou +art a minister of the word,’ wrote the learned William Perkins +beside his name on all his books, ‘mind thy business.’</p> +<h2>PASSION</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘A man subject to like passions as we are.’—James +5. 17.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That was a very significant room in the Interpreter’s House +where our pilgrim saw Passion and Patience sitting each one in his chair. +Passion was a young lad who seemed to our pilgrim to be much discontented. +He was never satisfied. He would have all his good things now. +His governor would have him wait for his best things till the beginning +of next year; but no, he will have them all now. And then, when +he had got all his good things, he soon lavished and wasted them all +till he had nothing left but rags. Then said Christian to the +Interpreter, ‘Expound this matter more fully to me.’ +So he said, ‘Those two lads are figures; Passion, of the men of +this world; and Patience of the men of that which is to come.’ +‘Then I perceive,’ said Christian, ‘’tis not +best to covet things that are now, but to wait for things to come.’ +‘You say truth,’ replied the Interpreter, ‘for the +things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen +are eternal.’</p> +<p>Now from the texts that I have taken out of James and out of this +so significant room in the Interpreter’s House, let me try to +tell you something profitable, if so it may be, about passion; the nature +of it, the place it holds, and the part it performs both in human nature +and in the life and the character of a Christian man.</p> +<p>The name of Passion has already told us his nature, his past life, +and his present character. The whole nomenclature of <i>The Pilgrim’s +Progress</i> and of <i>The Holy War</i> is composed on the divine, original, +and natural principle of embodying the nature of a man in his name. +God takes His own names to Himself on that principle. The Creator +gave Adam his name also on that same principle; and then Adam gave their +names to all cattle, to the fowls of the air, and to every beast of +the field on the same principle on which he had got his own name. +And so it was at first with all the Bible names of men and of nations +of men. Their name contained their nature. And John Bunyan +was such a student of the Bible, and of no other book but the Bible, +that all his best books are all full, like the Bible, of the most descriptive +and suggestive names. As soon as Bunyan tells us the name of some +new acquaintance or fellow-traveller, we already know him, so exactly +is his nature put into his name. And thus it is that when we stop +for a moment at the door of this little significant room in the Interpreter’s +House and ask ourselves the meaning of the name Passion, we see at once +where we are and what we have here before us. For a ‘passion’ +is just some excitement or agitation of the mind caused by some outward +thing acting on the mind. The inward world of the mind and heart +of man, and this outward world down into which God has placed man, instantly +and continually respond to one another. And what are called, with +so much correctness and propriety, our passions, are just those inward +responses, excitements, and agitations that the outward world causes +in the inward world when those two worlds meet together. ‘Passion’ +and ‘perturbation’ are the old classical names that the +ancient philosophers and moralists gave to what they felt in themselves +as their minds and their hearts were affected by the world of men and +things around them. And they used to illustrate their teaching +on the subject of the passions by the figure of a storm at sea. +They said that it was because God had made the sea sensitive and responsive +to the winds that blew over it that a storm at sea ever arose. +The storm did not arise and the ships were not wrecked by anything from +within the sea itself; it was the outward world of the winds striking +against the quiet and inward world of the waters that roused the storms +and sank the ships. And with that illustration well printed in +the minds and imaginations of their scholars the old moralists felt +their work among their scholars was already all but done. For, +so full of adaptation and appeal is the whole outward world to the mind +and heart of man, and so sensitive and instantly responsive is the mind +and heart of man to all the approaches of the outward world, that the +mind and heart of man are constantly full of all kinds of passions, +both bad and good. And, then, this is our present life of probation +and opportunity, that all our passions are placed within us and are +committed and entrusted to us as so many first elements and so much +unformed material out of which we are summoned to build up our life +and to shape and complete our character. The springs of all our +actions are in our passions. All our activities in life, trace +them all up to their source, and they will all be found to run up into +the wellhead of our passions. All our virtues are cut as with +a chisel out of our passions, and all our vices are just the disorders +and rebellions of our passions. Our several passions, as they +lie still asleep in our hearts, have as yet no moral character; they +are only the raw material so to speak, of moral character. Our +passions are the life and the riches and the ornaments of human nature, +and it is only because human nature in its present estate is so corrupt +and disordered and degraded, that the otherwise so honourable name of +passion has such a sinister sound to us. And the full regeneration +and restitution of human nature will be accomplished when every several +passion is in its right place, and when reason and conscience and the +Spirit of God shall inspire and rule and regulate all that is within +us.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘On life’s vast ocean diversely we sail,<br /> +Reason the card, but passion is the gale.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And not Elijah only, as James says, and not Paul and Barnabas only, +as they themselves said, were men of like passions with ourselves, but +our Lord Himself was a man of like passions with us also. He took +to Himself a true body, full of all the appetites of the body, and a +reasonable soul, full of all the affections, passions, and emotions +of the soul. Only, in Him reason and conscience and the law and +the Spirit of God were the card and the compass according to which He +steered His life. We have all our ruling passion, and our Lord +also had His. As His disciples saw His ruling passion kindled +in His heart and coming out in His life, they remembered that it was +written of Him in an old Messianic psalm: ‘The zeal of Thine house +hath eaten me up.’ They were all eaten up of their ruling +passions also. One of ambition, one of emulation, one of avarice, +and so on,—each several disciple was eaten up of his own besetting +sin. But they all saw that it was not so with their Master. +He was eaten up always and wholly of the zeal of His Father’s +house, and of absolute surrender and devotion to His Father’s +service, till His ruling passion was seen to be as strong in His death +as it had been in His life. The Laird of Brodie’s Diary +has repeatedly been of great use to us in these inward matters, and +his words on this subject are well worth repeating. ‘We +poor creatures,’ he says, ‘are commanded by our affections +and passions. They are not at our command. But the Holy +One doth exercise all His attributes at His own will; they are at His +command; they are not passions nor perturbations in His mind, though +they transport us. When I would hate, I cannot. When I would +love, I cannot. When I would grieve, I cannot. When I would +desire, I cannot. But it is the better for us that all is as He +wills it to be.’</p> +<p>And now, to come still closer home, let us look for a moment or two +at some of our own ruling and tyrannising passions. And let us +look first at self-love—that master-passion in every human heart. +Let us give self-love the first place in the inventory and catalogue +of our passions, because it has the largest place in all our hearts +and lives. Nay, not only has self-love the largest place of any +of the passions of our hearts, but it is out of self-love that all our +other evil passions spring. It is out of this parent passion that +all the poisonous brood of our other evil passions are born. The +whole fall and ruin and misery of our present human nature lies in this, +that in every human being self-love has taken, in addition to its own +place, the place of the love of God and of the love of man also. +We naturally now love nothing and no one but ourselves. And as +long as self-love is in the ascendant in our hearts, all the passions +that are awakened in us by our self-love will be selfish with its selfishness, +inhumane with its inhumanity, and ungodly with its ungodliness. +And it is to kill and extirpate our so passionate self-love that is +the end and aim of all God’s dealings with us in this world. +All that God is doing with us and for us in providence and in grace, +in the world and in the church,—it is all to cure us of this deadly +disease of self-love. We may never have had that told us before, +and we may not like it, and we may not believe it; but there can be +no better proof of the truth of what is now said than just this, that +we do not like it and will not have it. Self-love will not let +us listen to the truth about ourselves; it puts us in a passion both +against the truth and against him who tells the truth, as the history +of the truth abundantly testifies. Yes, your indignant protest +is quite true. Self-love has her divine rights,—no doubt +she has. But you are not commanded to attend to them. Your +self-love will look after herself. She will manage to have her +full share of what is right and proper for any passion to possess even +after she cries out that she is trampled upon and despoiled. My +brethren, till you begin to crucify yourselves and to pluck up your +self-love by the roots, you will never know what a cruel and hopeless +task the Christian life is—I do not say the Christian profession. +Nor, on the other hand, will you ever discover what a noble task it +is—what a divine task and how divinely assisted and divinely recompensed. +You will not know what a kennel of hell-hounds your own heart is till +you have long sought to enter it and cleanse it out. And after +you have done your utmost, and your best, death will hurry you away +from your but half-accomplished task. Only, in that case you will +be able to die in the hope that what is impossible with man is possible +with God, as promised by Him, and that He will not leave your soul in +hell, but will perfect that good thing which alone concerneth you, even +your everlasting deliverance from all sinful self-love.</p> +<p>And if self-love is the fruitful mother of all our passions, then +sensuality is surely her eldest son. Indeed, so shallow are we, +and so shallow are our words, that when we speak of sinful passion most +men instantly think of sensuality. There are so many seductive +things that appeal to our appetites, and our appetites are so easily +awakened, and are so imperious when they are awakened, that when passion +is spoken about, few men think of the soul, all men think instantly +of the body. And no wonder. For, stupid and besotted as +we are, we must all at some time of our life have felt the bondage and +degradation of the senses. Passion in the Interpreter’s +House had soon nothing left but rags. And in this house to-night +there are many men whose consciences and hearts and characters are all +in such rags from sensual sin, that when the Scriptures speak of uncleanness, +or rags, or corruption, their thoughts flee at once to sensual sin and +its conscience-rending results. Cease from sensuality, said Cicero, +for if once you give your minds up to sensuality, you will never be +able to think of anything else.</p> +<p>Ambition, emulation, and envy are the leading members of a whole +prolific family of satanic passions in the human heart. Indeed, +these passions, taken along with their kindred passions of hatred and +ill-will, are, in our Lord’s words, the very lusts of the devil +himself. The Jews hated our Lord the more for what He said about +these detestable passions, but His own disciples love Him only the more +that He so well knows the evil affections of their hearts, and so well +describes and denounces them. Anybody can denounce sensual sin, +and everybody will understand and approve. But spiritual sin,—ambition +and emulation and envy and ill-will—these things are more easy +to denounce than they are to detect and describe, and more easy to detect +and describe than they are to cast out. These sins seem rather +to multiply and to strike a deeper root when you begin to cast them +out. What an utterly and abominably evil passion is envy which +is awakened not by bad things but by the best things! That another +man’s talents, attainments, praises, rewards should kindle it, +and that the blame, the depreciation, the hurt that another man suffers +should satisfy it,—what a piece of very hell must that be in the +human heart! What more do we need than just a little envy in our +hearts to make us prostrate penitents before God and man all our days? +What more doctrine, argument, proof, authority, persuasion should a +sane man need beyond a little envy in his heart at his best friend to +make him an evangelical believer and an evangelical preacher? +How, in the name of wonder, is it that men can be so ignorant of the +plague of their own hearts as to remain indifferent, and, much more, +hostile, to the gospel of love and holiness? Pride, also,—what +a hateful and intolerable passion is that! How stone-blind to +his own state must that sinner be whose heart is filled with pride, +and how impossible it is for that man to make any real progress in any +kind of truth or goodness! And resentment,—what a deep-seated, +long-lived, and suicidal passion is that! How it hunts down him +it hates, and how surely it shuts the door of salvation against him +who harbours it! Forgive us our debts, the resentful man says +in his prayer, as we forgive our debtors. And detraction,—how +some men’s ink-horns are filled with detraction for ink, and how +it drops from their tongue like poison! At their every word a +reputation dies. Life and all its opportunities of doing good +and having good done to us is laid like a bag of treasure at our feet, +but, like the prodigal son in the Interpreter’s House, with all +those passions raging in our own hearts at other men, and in other men’s +hearts at us, we have soon nothing left us but rags. God be thanked +for every man here who sees and feels that he has nothing left him but +rags; and, still more, thanks for all those who see and feel how, by +their bad passions, sensual and spiritual, they have left on other people +nothing but rags.</p> +<p>Now, from all this let us lay it to heart that our sanctification +and salvation lie in our mastery over all these and over many other +passions that have not even been named. He is an accepted saint +of God, who, taking his and other people’s rags to God’s +mercy every day, every day also in God’s strength grapples with, +bridles, and tames his own wild and ungodly passions. Be not deceived, +my friends; he alone is a saint of God who is a sanctified man; and +his passions,—as they are the spring of his actions, so they are +the sphere and seat of his sanctification. Be not deceived; that +man, and no other manner of man, is, or ever will be, a partaker of +God’s salvation. You often hear me recommending those students +who have first to subdue their own passions and then the passions of +those who hear them to study Jonathan Edwards’ ethical and spiritual +writings. Well, just at this present point, to show you how well +that great man practised what he preached, let me read to you a few +lines from his biographer: ‘Few men,’ says Henry Rogers, +‘ever attained a more complete mastery over their passions than +Jonathan Edwards did. This was partly owing to the ascendency +of his intellect; partly, and in a still greater degree, to the elevation +of his piety. For the subjugation of his passions he was no doubt +very greatly indebted to the prodigious superiority of his reason. +Such was the commanding attitude his reason assumed, and such the tremendous +power with which it controlled the whole man, that any insurrection +among his senses was hopeless; they had their tenure only by doing fealty +and homage to his intellect. Those other and more dangerous enemies, +because more subtle and more spiritual, such as pride, vanity, wrath, +and envy, which lurk in the inmost recesses of our nature, and some +of which have such affinities for a genius like that of Edwards, yield +not to such exorcism. Such more powerful kind of demons go not +forth but by prayer and fasting; to their complete mortification, therefore, +Edwards brought incessant watchfulness and devotion; and seldom, assuredly, +have they been more nearly expelled from the bosom of a depraved intelligence.’ +We shall be in the best company, both intellectually and spiritually, +if we work out our own salvation among the sinful passions of our depraved +hearts. And then, as life goes on, and we continue in well-doing, +we shall be able to measure and register our growth in grace best by +watching the effect of outward temptations upon our still sinful and +but half-sanctified hearts. And among much to be humbled for, +and much to make us fear and tremble for the issue, we shall, from time +to time, have a good conscience and a holy and humble joy that this +passion and that is at last showing some signs of crucifixion and mortification. +And thus that death to sin shall gradually set in which shall issue +at last in an everlasting life unto holiness.</p> +<p>‘Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be +clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols will I cleanse +you. A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I +put within you . . . Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from +thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment. In that day +there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to the inhabitants +of Jerusalem, for sin and for uncleanness . . . Bring forth the best +robe and put it upon him, for this my son was dead, and is alive again; +he was lost, and is found . . . What are these that are arrayed in white +robes, and whence came they? These are they which came out of +great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white +in the blood of the Lamb.’</p> +<h2>PATIENCE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘In your patience possess ye your souls.’ +(Revised Version: ‘In your patience ye shall win your souls.’)—Our +Lord.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘I saw moreover in my dream that the Interpreter took the pilgrim +by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sate two little children, +each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion and +of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much discontent, but +Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, What is the reason +of the discontent of Passion? The interpreter answered, The governor +of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of +the next year; but he will have all now. But Patience is willing +to wait.’</p> +<p>Passion and Patience, like Esau and Jacob, are twin-brothers. +And their names, like their natures, spring up from the same root. +‘Patience,’ says Crabb in his <i>English Synonyms</i>, ‘comes +from the active participle to suffer; while passion comes from the passive +participle of the same verb; and hence the difference between the two +names. Patience signifies suffering from an active principle, +a determination to suffer; while passion signifies what is suffered +from want of power to prevent the suffering. Patience, therefore, +is always taken in a good sense, and Passion always in a bad sense.’ +So far this excellent etymologist. This is, therefore, another +case of blessing and cursing proceeding out of the same mouth, and of +the same fountain sending forth at the same place both sweet water and +bitter.</p> +<p>Our Lord tells us in this striking text that our very souls by reason +of sin are not our own. He tells us that we have lost hold of +our souls before we have as yet come to know that we have souls. +We only discover that we have souls after we have lost them. And +our Lord,—our best, indeed our only, authority in the things of +the soul,—here tells us that it is only by patience that we shall +ever win back our lost souls. More, far more, is needed to the +winning back of a lost soul than its owner’s patience, and our +Lord knew that to His cost. But that is not His point with us +to-night. His sole point with each one of us to-night is our personal +part in the conquest and redemption of our sin-enslaved souls. +He who has redeemed our souls with His own blood tells us with all plainness +of speech, that His blood will be shed in vain, as far as we are concerned, +unless we add to His atoning death our own patient life. Every +human life, as our Lord looks at it, and would have us look at it, is +a vast field of battle in which a soul is lost or won; little as we +think of it or will believe it, in His sight every trial, temptation, +provocation, insult, injury, and all kinds and all degrees of pain and +suffering, are all so many divinely appointed opportunities afforded +us for the reconquest and recovery of our souls. Sometimes faith +is summoned into the battle-field, sometimes hope, sometimes self-denial, +sometimes prayer, sometimes one grace and sometimes another; but as +with the sound of a trumpet the Captain of our salvation here summons +Patience to the forefront of the fight.</p> +<p>1. To begin with, how much impatience we are all from time +to time guilty of in our family life. Among the very foundations +of our family life how much impatience the husband often exhibits toward +the wife, and the wife toward her husband. Patience is the very +last grace they look forward to having any need of when they are still +dreaming about their married life; but, in too many cases, they have +not well entered on that life, when they find that they need no grace +of God so much as just patience, if the yoke of their new life is not +to gall them beyond endurance. However many good qualities of +mind and heart and character any husband or wife may have, no human +being is perfect, and most of us are very far from being perfect. +When therefore, we are closely and indissolubly joined to another life +and another will, it is no wonder that sometimes the ill-fitting yoke +eats into a lifelong sore. We have all many defects in our manners, +in our habits, and in our constitutional ways of thinking and speaking +and acting,—defects that tempt those who live nearest us to fall +into annoyances with us that sometimes deepen into dislike, and even +positive disgust, till it has been seen, in some extreme cases, that +home-life has become a very prison-house, in which the impatient prisoner +chafes and jibs and strikes out as he does nowhere else. Now, +when any unhappy man or woman wakens up to discover how different life +is now to be from what it once promised to become, let them know that +all their past blindness, and precipitancy, and all the painful results +of all that, may yet be made to work together for good. In your +patience with one another, says our Lord, you will make a conquest of +your adverse lot, and of your souls to the bargain. Say to yourselves, +therefore, that perfection, faultlessness, and absolute satisfaction +are not to be found in this world. And say also that since you +have not brought perfection to your side of the house any more than +your partner has to his side, you are not so foolish as to expect perfection +in return for such imperfection. You have your own share of what +causes fireside silence, aversion, disappointment, and dislike; and, +with God’s help, say that you will patiently submit to what may +not now be mended. And then, the sterner the battle the nobler +will the victory be; and the lonelier the fight, the more honour to +him who flinches not from it. In your patience possess ye your +souls.</p> +<p>What a beautiful, instructive, and even impressive sight it is to +see a nurse patiently cherishing her children! How she has her +eye and her heart at all their times upon them, till she never has any +need to lay her hand upon them! Passion has no place in her little +household, because patience fills all its own place and the place of +passion too. What a genius she displays in her talks to her children! +How she cheats their little hours of temptation, and tides them over +the rough places that her eye sees lying like sunken rocks before her +little ship! How skilfully she stills and heals their impulsive +little passions by her sudden and absorbing surprise at some miracle +in a picture-book, or some astonishing sight under her window! +She has a thousand occupations also for her children, and each of them +with a touch of enterprise and adventure and benevolence in it. +She is so full of patience herself, that the little gusts of passion +are soon over in her presence, and the sunshine is soon back brighter +than ever in her little paradise. And, over and above her children +rising up and calling her blessed, what wounds she escapes in her own +heart and memory by keeping her patient hands from ever wounding her +children! What peace she keeps in the house, just by having peace +always within herself! Paul can find no better figure wherewith +to set forth God’s marvellous patience with Israel during her +fretful childhood in the wilderness, than just that of such a nurse +among her provoking children. And we see the deep hold that same +touching and instructive sight had taken of the apostle’s heart +as he returns to it again to the Thessalonians: ‘We were gentle +among you, even as a nurse cherisheth her children. So, being +affectionately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto +you, not the gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ye +were dear unto us.’ What a school of divine patience is +every man’s own family at home if he only were teachable, observant, +and obedient!</p> +<p>2. Clever, quick-witted, and, themselves, much-gifted men, +are terribly intolerant of slow and stupid men, as they call them. +But the many-talented man makes a great mistake here, and falls into +a great sin. In his fulness of all kinds of intellectual gifts, +he quite forgets from Whom he has his many gifts, and why it is that +his despised neighbour has so few gifts. If you have ten or twenty +talents, and I have only two, who is to be praised and who is to be +blamed for that allotment? Your cleverness has misled you and +has hitherto done you far more evil than good. You bear yourself +among ordinary men, among less men than yourself, as if you had added +all these cubits to your own stature. You ride over us as if you +had already given in your account, and had heard it said, Take the one +talent from them and give it to this my ten-talented servant. +You seem to have set it down to your side of the great account, that +you had such a good start in talent, and that your fine mind had so +many tutors and governors all devoting themselves to your advancement. +And you conduct yourself to us as if the Righteous Judge had cast us +away from His presence, because we were not found among the wise and +mighty of this world. The truth is, that the whole world is on +a wholly wrong tack in its praise and in its blame. We praise +the man of great gifts, and we blame the man of small gifts, completely +forgetful that in so doing we give men the praise that belongs to God, +and lay on men the blame, which, if there is any blame in the matter, +ought to be laid elsewhere. Learn and lay to heart, my richly-gifted +brethren, to be patient with all men, but especially to be patient with +all stupid, slow-witted, ungifted, God-impoverished men. Do not +add your insults and your ill-usage to the low estate of those on whom, +in the meantime, God’s hand lies so cold and so straitened. +For who maketh thee to differ from another? and what hast thou that +thou didst not receive? Now, if thou didst receive it, why dost +thou glory as if thou hadst not received it? Call that to mind +the next time you are tempted to cry out that you have no patience with +your slow-witted servant.</p> +<p>3. ‘Is patient with the bad’ is one of the tributes +of praise that is paid in the fine paraphrase to that heart that is +full of the same love that is in God. A patient love to the unjust +and the evil is one of the attributes and manifestations of the divine +nature, as that nature is seen both in God and in all genuinely godly +men. And, indeed, in no other thing is the divine nature so surely +seen in any man as just in his love to and his patience with bad men. +He schools and exercises himself every day to be patient and good to +other men as God has been to him. He remembers when tempted to +resentment how God did not resent his evil, but, while he was yet an +enemy to God and to godliness, reconciled him to Himself by the death +of His Son. And ever since the godly man saw that, he has tried +to reconcile his worst enemies to himself by the death of his impatience +and passion toward them, and has more pitied than blamed them, even +when their evil was done against himself. Let God judge, and if +it must be, condemn that bad man. But I am too bad myself to cast +a stone at the worst and most injurious of men. If we so much +pity ourselves for our sinful lot, if we have so much compassion on +ourselves because of our inherited and unavoidable estate of sin and +misery, why do we not share our pity and our compassion with those miserable +men who are in an even worse estate than our own? At any rate, +I must not judge them lest I be judged. I must take care when +I say, Forgive me my trespasses, as I forgive them that trespass against +me. Not to seven times must I grudgingly forgive, but ungrudgingly +to seventy times seven. For with what judgment I judge, I shall +be judged; and with what measure I mete, it shall be measured to me +again.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Love harbours no suspicious thought,<br /> +Is patient to the bad:<br /> +Grieved when she hears of sins and crimes,<br /> +And in the truth is glad.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>4. And then, most difficult and most dangerous, but most necessary +of all patience, we must learn how to be patient with ourselves. +Every day we hear of miserable men rushing upon death because they can +no longer endure themselves and the things they have brought on themselves. +And there are moral suicides who cast off the faith and the hope and +the endurance of a Christian man because they are so evil and have lived +such an evil life. We speak of patience with bad men, but there +is no man so bad, there is no man among all our enemies who has at all +hurt us like that man who is within ourselves. And to bear patiently +what we have brought upon ourselves,—to endure the inward shame, +the self-reproof, the self-contempt bitterer to drink than blood, the +lifelong injuries, impoverishment, and disgrace,—to bear all these +patiently and uncomplainingly,—to acquiesce humbly in the discovery +that all this was always in our hearts, and still is in our hearts—what +humility, what patience, what compassion and pity for ourselves must +all that call forth! The wise nurse is patient with her passionate, +greedy, untidy, disobedient child. She does not cast it out of +doors, she does not run and leave it, she does not kill it because all +these things have been and still are in its sad little heart. +Her power for good with such a child lies just in her pity, in her compassion, +and in her patience with her child. And the child that is in all +of us is to be treated in the same patient, hopeful, believing, forgiving, +divine way. We should all be with ourselves as God is with us. +He knoweth our frame. He remembereth that we are dust. He +shows all patience toward us. He does not look for great things +from us. He does not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking +flax. He shall not fail nor be discouraged till He have set judgment +in the earth. And so shall not we.</p> +<p>5. And, then,—it is a sufficiently startling thing to +say, but—we must learn to be patient with God also. All +our patience, and all the exercises of it, if we think aright about +it, all run up in the long-run into patience with God. But there +are some exercises of patience that have to do directly and immediately +with God and with God alone. When any man’s heart has become +fully alive to God and to the things of God; when he begins to see and +feel that he lives and moves and has his being in God; then everything +that in any way affects him is looked on by him as come to him from +God. Absolutely, all things. The very weather that everybody +is so atheistic about, the climate, the soil he labours, the rain, the +winter’s cold and the summer’s heat,—true piety sees +all these things as God’s things, and sees God’s immediate +will in the disposition and dispensation of them all. He feels +the untameableness of his tongue in the indecent talk that goes on everlastingly +about the weather. All these things may be without God to other +men, as they once were to him also, but you will find that the truly +and the intelligently devout man no longer allows himself in such unbecoming +speech. For, though he cannot trace God’s hand in all the +changes of the seasons, in heat and cold, in sunshine and snow, yet +he is as sure that God’s wisdom and will are there as that Scripture +is true and the Scripture-taught heart. ‘Great is our Lord, +and His understanding is infinite. Who covereth the heavens with +clouds, and prepareth rain for the earth, and maketh the grass to grow +upon the mountains. He giveth snow like wool; He scattereth the +hoarfrost like ashes; He casteth forth His ice like morsels. Who +can stand before his cold?’ Here is the patience and the +faith of the saints. Here are they that keep the commandments +of God and the faith of Jesus Christ.</p> +<p>And, then, when through rain or frost or fire, when out of any terror +by night or arrow that flieth by day, any calamity comes on the man +who is thus pointed and practised in his patience, he is able with Job +to say, ‘This is the Lord. What, shall we receive good at +the hand of God and not also receive evil?’ By far the best +thing I have ever read on this subject, and I have read it a thousand +times since I first read it as a student, is Dr. Thomas Goodwin’s +<i>Patience and its Perfect Work</i>. That noble treatise had +its origin in the great fire of London in 1666. The learned President +of Magdalen College lost the half of his library, five hundred pounds +worth of the best books, in that terrible fire. And his son tells +us he had often heard his father say that in the loss of his not-to-be-replaced +books, God had struck him in a very sensible place. To lose his +Augustine, and his Calvin, and his Musculus, and his Zanchius, and his +Amesius, and his Suarez, and his Estius was a sore stroke to such a +man. I loved my books too well, said the great preacher, and God +rebuked me by this affliction. Let the students here read Goodwin’s +costly treatise, and they will be the better prepared to meet such calamities +as the burning of their manse and their library, as also to counsel +and comfort their people when they shall lose their shops or their stockyards +by fire.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Blind unbelief is sure to err,<br /> +And scan His work in vain;<br /> +God is His own interpreter,<br /> +And He will make it plain.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And, then, in a multitude of New Testament scriptures, we are summoned +to great exercise of patience with the God of our salvation, because +it is His purpose and plan that we shall have to wait long for our salvation. +God has not seen it good to carry us to heaven on the day of our conversion. +He does not glorify us on the same day that He justifies us. We +are appointed to salvation indeed, but it is also appointed us to wait +long for it. This is not our rest. We are called to be pilgrims +and strangers for a season with God upon the earth. We are told +to endure to the end. It is to be through faith and patience that +we, with our fathers, shall at last inherit the promises. Holiness +is not a Jonah’s gourd. It does not come up in a night, +and it does not perish in a night. Holiness is the Divine nature, +and it takes a lifetime to make us partakers of it. But, then, +if the time is long the thing is sure. Let us, then, with a holy +and a submissive patience wait for it.</p> +<p>‘I saw moreover in my dream that Passion seemed to be much +discontent, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, +What is the reason of the discontent of Passion? The Interpreter +answered, The governor of them would have him stay for his best things +till the beginning of the next year; but he will have them all now. +But Patience is willing to wait.’</p> +<h2>SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Ye did run well, who did hinder you?’—Paul.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It startles us not a little to come suddenly upon three pilgrims +fast asleep with fetters on their heels on the upward side of the Interpreter’s +House, and even on the upward side of the cross and the sepulchre. +We would have looked for those three miserable men somewhere in the +City of Destruction or in the Town of Stupidity, or, at best, somewhere +still outside of the wicket-gate. But John Bunyan did not lay +down his <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> on any abstract theory, or +on any easy and pleasant presupposition, of the Christian life. +He constructed his so lifelike book out of his own experiences as a +Christian man, as well as out of all he had learned as a Christian minister. +And in nothing is Bunyan’s power of observation, deep insight, +and firm hold of fact better seen than just in the way he names and +places the various people of the pilgrimage. Long after he had +been at the Cross of Christ himself, and had seen with his own eyes +all the significant rooms in the Interpreter’s House, Bunyan had +often to confess that the fetters of evil habit, unholy affection, and +a hard heart were still firmly riveted on his own heels. And his +pastoral work had led him to see only too well that he was not alone +in the temptations and the dangers and the still-abiding bondage to +sin that had so surprised himself after he was so far on in the Christian +life. It was the greatest sorrow of his heart, he tells us in +a powerful passage in his <i>Grace Abounding</i>, that so many of his +spiritual children broke down and came short in the arduous and perilous +way in which he had so hopefully started them. ‘If any of +those who were awakened by my ministry did after that fall back, as +sometimes too many did, I can truly say that their loss hath been more +to me than if one of my own children, begotten of my body, had been +going to its grave. I think, verily, I may speak it without an +offence to the Lord, nothing hath gone so near me as that, unless it +was the fear of the salvation of my own soul. I have counted as +if I had goodly buildings and lordships in those places where my children +were born; my heart has been so wrapped up in this excellent work that +I counted myself more blessed and honoured of God by this than if He +had made me the emperor of the Christian world, or the lord of all the +glory of the earth without it.’ And I have no doubt that +we have here the three things that above everything else bereft Bunyan +of so many of his spiritual children personified and then laid down +by the heels in Simple, Sloth, and Presumption.</p> +<h2>SIMPLE</h2> +<p>Let us shake up Simple first and ask him what it was that laid him +so soon and in such a plight and in such company in this bottom. +It was not that which from his name we might at first think it was. +It was not the weakness of his intellects, nor his youth, nor his inexperience. +There is danger enough, no doubt, in all these things if they are not +carefully attended to, but none of all these things in themselves, nor +all of them taken together, will lay any pilgrim by the heels. +There must be more than mere and pure simplicity. No blame attaches +to a simple mind, much less to an artless and an open heart. We +do not blame such a man even when we pity him. We take him, if +he will let us, under our care, or we put him under better care, but +we do not anticipate any immediate ill to him so long as he remains +simple in mind, untainted in heart, and willing to learn. But, +then, unless he is better watched over than any young man or young woman +can well be in this world, that simplicity and child-likeness and inexperience +of his may soon become a fatal snare to him. There is so much +that is not simple and sincere in this world; there is so much falsehood +and duplicity; there are so many men abroad whose endeavour is to waylay, +mislead, entrap, and corrupt the simple-minded and the inexperienced, +that it is next to impossible that any youth or maiden shall long remain +in this world both simple and safe also. My son, says the Wise +Man, keep my words, and lay up my commandments with thee. For +at the window of my house I looked through my casement, and beheld among +the simple ones, I discerned among the youths, a young man void of understanding;—and +so on,—till a dart strike through his liver, and he goeth as an +ox to the slaughter. And so, too often in our own land, the maiden +in her simplicity also opens her ear to the promises and vows and oaths +of the flatterer, till she loses both her simplicity and her soul, and +lies buried in that same bottom beside Sloth and Presumption.</p> +<p>It is not so much his small mind and his weak understanding that +is the fatal danger of their possessor, it is his imbecile way of treating +his small mind. In our experience of him we cannot get him, all +we can do, to read an instructive book. We cannot get him to attend +our young men’s class with all the baits and traps we can set +for him. Where does he spend his Sabbath-day and week-day evenings? +We cannot find out until we hear some distressing thing about him, that, +ten to one, he would have escaped had he been a reader of good books, +or a student with us, say, of Dante and Bunyan and Rutherford, and a +companion of those young men and young women who talk about and follow +such intellectual tastes and pursuits. Now, if you are such a +young man or young woman as that, or such an old man or old woman, you +will not be able to understand what in the world Bunyan can mean by +saying that he saw you in his dream fast asleep in a bottom with irons +on your heels. No; for to understand the <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i>, +beyond a nursery and five-year-old understanding of it, you must have +worked and studied and suffered your way out of your mental and spiritual +imbecility. You must have for years attended to what is taught +from the pulpit and the desk, and, alongside of that, you must have +made a sobering and solemnising application of it all to your own heart. +And then you would have seen and felt that the heels of your mind and +of your heart are only too firmly fettered with the irons of ignorance +and inexperience and self-complacency. But as it is, if you would +tell the truth, you would say to us what Simple said to Christian, I +see no danger. The next time that John Bunyan passed that bottom, +the chains had been taken off the heels of this sleeping fool and had +been put round his neck.</p> +<h2>SLOTH</h2> +<p>Sloth had a far better head than Simple had; but what of that when +he made no better use of it? There are many able men who lie all +their days in a sad bottom with the irons of indolence and inefficiency +on their heels. We often envy them their abilities, and say about +them, What might they not have done for themselves and for us had they +only worked hard? Just as we are surprised to see other men away +above us on the mountain top, not because they have better abilities +than we have, but because they tore the fetters of sloth out of their +soft flesh and set themselves down doggedly to their work. And +the same sloth that starves and fetters the mind at the same time casts +the conscience and the heart into a deep sleep. I often wonder +as I go on working among you, if you ever attach any meaning or make +any application to yourselves of all those commands and counsels of +which the Scriptures are full,—to be up and doing, to watch and +pray, to watch and be sober, to fight the good fight of faith, to hold +the fort, to rise early, and even by night, and to endure unto death, +and never for one moment to be found off your guard. Do you attach +any real meaning to these examples of the psalmists, to these continual +commands and examples of Christ, and to these urgent counsels of his +apostles? Do you? Against whom and against what do you thus +campaign and fight? For fear of whom or of what do you thus watch? +What fort do you hold? What occupies your thoughts in night-watches, +and what inspires and compels your early prayers? It is your stupefying +life of spiritual sloth that makes it impossible for you to answer these +simple and superficial questions. Sloth is not the word for it. +Let them give the right word to insanity like that who sleep and soak +in sinful sloth no longer.</p> +<p>We have all enemies in our own souls that never sleep, whatever we +may do. There are no irons on their heels. They never procrastinate. +They never say to their master, A little more slumber. Now, could +you name any hateful enemy entrenched in your own heart, of which you +have of yourself said far more than that? And, if so, what have +you done, what are you at this moment doing, to cast that enemy out? +Have you any armour on, any weapons of offence and precision, against +that enemy? And what success and what defeat have you had in unearthing +and casting out that enemy? What fort do you hold? On what +virtue, on what grace are you posted by your Lord to keep for yourself +and for Him? And with what cost of meat and drink and sleep and +amusement do you lose it or keep it for Him? Alexander used to +leave his tent at midnight and go round the camp, and spear to his post +the sentinel he found sleeping.</p> +<p>There is nothing we are all so slothful in as secret, particular, +importunate prayer. We have an almighty instrument in our hand +in secret and exact prayer if we would only importunately and perseveringly +employ it. But there is an utterly unaccountable restraint of +secret and particularising prayer in all of us. There is a soaking, +stupefying sloth, that so fills our hearts that we forget and neglect +the immense concession and privilege we have afforded us in secret prayer. +Our sloth and stupidity in prayer is surely the last proof of our fall +and of the misery of our fallen state. Our sloth with a gold mine +open at our feet; a little more sleep on the top of a mast with a gulf +under us that hath no bottom,—no language of this life can adequately +describe the besottedness of that man who lies with irons on his heels +between Simple and Presumption.</p> +<h2>PRESUMPTION</h2> +<p>The greatest theologian of the Roman Catholic Church has made an +induction and classification of sins that has often been borrowed by +our Protestant and Puritan divines. His classification is made, +as will be seen, on an ascending scale of guilt and aggravation. +In the world of sin, he says, there are, first, sins of ignorance; next, +there are sins of infirmity; and then, at the top, there are sins of +presumption. And this, it will be remembered, was the Psalmist’s +inventory and estimate of sins also. His last and his most earnest +prayer was, that he might be kept back from all presumptuous sin. +Now you know quite well, without any explanation, what presumption is. +Don’t presume, you say, with rising and scarce controlled anger. +Don’t presume too far. Take care, you say, with your heart +beating so high that you can scarcely command it, take care lest you +go too far. And the word of God feels and speaks about presumptuous +sin very much as you do yourself. Now, what gave this third man +who lay in fetters a little beyond the cross the name of Presumption +was just this, that he had been at the cross with his past sin, and +had left the cross to commit the same sin at the first opportunity. +Presumption presumed upon his pardon. He presumed upon the abounding +grace of God. He presumed upon the blood of Christ. He was +so high on the Atonement, that he held that the gospel was not sufficiently +preached to him, unless not past sin only and present, but also all +future sin was atoned for on the tree before it was committed. +There is a reprobate in Dante, who, all the time he was repenting, had +his eye on his next opportunity. Now, our Presumption was like +that. He presumed on his youth, on his temptations, on his opportunities, +and especially on his future reformation and the permanence and the +freeness of the gospel offer. When he was in the Interpreter’s +House he did not hear what the Interpreter was saying, the blood was +roaring so through his veins. His eyes were so full of other images +that he did not see the man in the iron cage, nor the spider on the +wall, nor the fire fed secretly. He had no more intention of keeping +always to the way that was as straight as a rule could make it, than +he had of cutting off both his hands and plucking out both his eyes. +When the three shining ones stripped him of his rags and clothed him +with change of raiment, he had no more intention of keeping his garments +clean than he had of flying straight up to heaven on the spot. +Now, let each man name to himself what that is in which he intentionally, +deliberately, and by foresight and forethought sins. Have you +named it? Well, it was for that that this reprobate was laid by +the heels on the immediately hither side of the cross and the sepulchre. +Not that the iron might not have been taken off his heels again on certain +conditions, even after it was on; but, even so, he would never have +been the same man again that he was before his presumptuous sin. +You will easily know a man who has committed much presumptuous sin,—that +is to say, if you have any eye for a sinner. I think I would find +him out if I heard him pray once, or preach once, or even select a psalm +for public or for family worship; even if I heard him say grace at a +dinner-table, or reprove his son, or scold his servant. Presumptuous +sin has so much of the venom and essence of sin in it that, forgiven +or unforgiven, even a little of it never leaves the sinner as it found +him. Even if his fetters are knocked off, there is always a piece +of the poisonous iron left in his flesh; there is always a fang of his +fetters left in the broken bone. The presumptuous saint will always +be detected by the way he halts on his heels all his after days. +Keep back Thy servant, O God, from presumptuous sin. Let him be +innocent of the great transgression.</p> +<p>Dr. Thomas Goodwin says somewhere that the worm that dieth not only +comes to its sharpest sting and to its deadliest venom when it is hatched +up under gospel light. The very light of nature itself greatly +aggravates some of our sins. The light of our early education +greatly aggravates others of our sins. But nothing wounds our +conscience and then exasperates the wound like a past experience of +the same sin, and, especially, an experience of the grace of God in +forgiving that sin. Had we found young Presumption in his irons +before his conversion, we would have been afraid enough at the sight. +Had we found him laid by the heels after his first uncleanness, it would +have made us shudder for ourselves. But we are horrified and speechless +as we see him apprehended and laid in irons on the very night of his +first communion, and with the wine scarcely dry on his unclean lips. +Augustine postponed his baptism till he should have his fill of sin, +and till he should no longer return to sin like a dog to his vomit. +Now, next Sabbath is our communion day in this congregation. Let +us therefore this week examine ourselves. And if we must sin as +long as we are in this world, let it henceforth be the sin of ignorance +and of infirmity.</p> +<p>So the three reprobates lay down to sleep again, and Christian as +he left that bottom went on in the narrow way singing:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘O to grace how great a debtor<br /> +Daily I’m constrained to be<br /> +Let that grace, Lord, like a fetter,<br /> +Bind my wandering heart to Thee.’</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>THE THREE SHINING ONES AT THE CROSS</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Salvation shall God appoint for walls.’—Isaiah.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>John Bunyan’s autobiography, <i>Grace Abounding to the Chief +of Sinners</i>, is the best of all our commentaries on <i>The Pilgrim’s +Progress</i>, and again to-night I shall have to fall back on that incomparable +book. ‘Now, I saw in my dream that the highway up which +Christian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall, and that +wall is called Salvation. Up this way, therefore, did burdened +Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load +on his back.’ In the corresponding paragraph in <i>Grace +Abounding</i>, our author says, speaking about himself: ‘But forasmuch +as the passage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not +but with great difficulty enter in thereat, it showed me that none could +enter into life but those that were in downright earnest, and unless +also they left this wicked world behind them; for here was only room +for body and soul, but not for body and soul and sin.’ ‘He +ran thus till he came to a place somewhat ascending, and upon that place +stood a cross, and a little below in the bottom a sepulchre. So +I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with this cross, his +burden loosed from off his shoulders and fell from off his back, and +began to tumble, and so continued to do till it came to the mouth of +the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more.’ +Turning again to the <i>Grace Abounding</i>, we read in the 115th paragraph: +‘I remember that one day as I was travelling into the country +and musing on the wickedness and blasphemy of my heart, and considering +of the enmity that was in me to God, that scripture came into my mind, +He hath made peace by the blood of His Cross. By which I was made +to see both again and again and again that day that God and my soul +were friends by that blood: yea, I saw that the justice of God and my +sinful soul could embrace and kiss each other through that blood. +That was a good day to me; I hope I shall not forget it. I thought +I could have spoken of His love and of His mercy to me that day to the +very crows that sat upon the ploughed lands before me had they been +capable to have understood me. Wherefore I said in my soul with +much gladness, Well, I would I had a pen and ink here and I would write +this down before I go any farther, for surely I will not forget this +forty years hence.’</p> +<p>From all this we learn that the way to the Celestial City lies within +high and close fencing walls. There is not room for many pilgrims +to walk abreast in that way; indeed, there is seldom room for two. +There are some parts of the way where two or even three pilgrims can +for a time walk and converse together, but for the most part the path +is distressingly lonely. The way is so fenced up also that a pilgrim +cannot so much as look either to the right hand or the left. Indeed, +it is one of the laws of that road that no man is to attempt to look +except straight on before him. But then there is this compensation +for the solitude and stringency of the way that the wall that so encloses +it is Salvation. And Salvation is such a wall that it is companionship +and prospect enough of itself. Dante saw a long reach of this +same wall running round the bottom of the mount that cleanses him who +climbs it,—a long stretch of such sculptured beauty, that it arrested +him and instructed him and delighted him beyond his power sufficiently +to praise it. And thus, that being so, burdened and bowed down +to the earth as our pilgrim was, he was on the sure way, sooner or later, +to deliverance. Somewhere and sometime and somehow on that steep +and high fenced way deliverance was sure to come. And, then, as +to the burdened man himself. His name was once Graceless, but +his name is Graceless no longer. No graceless man runs long between +these close and cramping-up walls; and, especially, no graceless man +has that burden long on his back. That is not Graceless any longer +who is leaving the Interpreter’s House for the fenced way; that +is Christian, and as long as he remains Christian, the closeness of +the fence and the weight of his burden are a small matter. But +long-looked-for comes at last. And so, still carrying his burden +and keeping close within the fenced-up way, our pilgrim came at last +to a cross. And a perfect miracle immediately took place in that +somewhat ascending ground. For scarcely had Christian set his +eyes on the cross, when, without his pulling at it, or pushing it, or +even at that moment thinking of it, ere ever he was aware, he saw his +burden begin to tumble, and so it continued to do till it fell fairly +out of his sight into an open sepulchre.</p> +<p>The application of all that is surely self-evident. For our +way in a holy life is always closely fenced up. It is far oftener +a lonely way than otherwise. And the steepness, sternness, and +loneliness of our way are all aggravated by the remembrance of our past +sins and follies. They still, and more and more, lie upon our +hearts a heart-crushing burden. But if we, like Christian, know +how to keep our back to our former house and our face to heaven, sooner +or later we too shall surely come to the cross. And then, either +suddenly, or after a long agony, our burden also shall be taken off +our back and shut down into Christ’s sepulchre. And I saw +it no more, says the dreamer. He does not say that its owner saw +it no more. He was too wise and too true a dreamer to say that.</p> +<p>It will be remembered that the first time we saw this man, with whose +progress to the Celestial City we are at present occupied, he was standing +in a certain place clothed with rags and with a burden on his back. +After a long journey with him, we have just seen his burden taken off +his back, and it is only after his burden is off and a Shining One has +said to him, Thy sins be forgiven, that a second Shining One comes and +strips him of his rags and clothes him with change of raiment. +Now, why, it may be asked, has Christian had to carry his burden so +long, and why is he still kept so ragged and so miserable and he so +far on in the pilgrim’s path? Surely, it will be said, John +Bunyan was dreaming indeed when he kept a truly converted man, a confessedly +true and sincere Christian, so long in bonds and in rags. Well, +as to his rags: filthy rags are only once spoken of in the Bible, and +it is the prophet Isaiah, whose experience and whose language John Bunyan +had so entirely by heart, who puts them on. And that evangelist +among the prophets not only calls his own and Israel’s sins filthy +rags, but Isaiah is very bold, and calls their very righteousnesses +by that opprobrious name. Had that bold prophet said that all +his and all his people’s <i>un</i>righteousnesses were filthy +rags, all Israel would have subscribed to that. There was no man +so brutish as not to admit that. But as long as they had any sense +of truth and any self-respect, multitudes of Isaiah’s first hearers +and readers would resent what he so rudely said of their righteousnesses. +On the other hand, the prophet’s terrible discovery and comparison, +just like our dreamer’s dramatic distribution of Christian experience, +was, to a certainty, an immense consolation to many men in Israel in +his day. They gathered round Isaiah because, but for him and his +evangelical ministry, they would have been alone in their despair. +To them Isaiah’s ministry was a house of refuge, and the prophet +himself a veritable tower of strength. They felt they were not +alone so long as Isaiah dwelt in the same city with them. And +thus, whatever he might be to others, he was God’s very prophet +to them as his daily prayers in the temple both cast them down and lifted +them up. ‘Oh that Thou wouldst rend the heavens and come +down . . . But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses +are as filthy rags, and our iniquities like the wind have taken us away.’ +Thousands in Israel found in these terrible words a door of hope, a +sense of fellowship, and a call to trust and thanksgiving. And +tens of thousands have found the same help and consolation out of what +have seemed to others the very darkest and most perplexing pages of +the <i>Pilgrim’s Progress</i> and the <i>Grace Abounding</i>. +‘It made me greatly ashamed,’ says Hopeful, ‘of the +vileness of my former life, and confounded me with the sense of mine +own ignorance, for there never came into mine heart before now that +showed me so by contrast the beauty of the Lord Jesus. My own +vileness and nakedness made me love a holy life. Yea, I thought +that had I now a thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill +it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus.’ And if you, my brother, +far on in the way of Salvation, still think sometimes that, after all, +you must be a reprobate because of your filthy rags, read what David +Brainerd wrote with his half-dead hand on the last page of his seraphic +journal: ‘How sweet it is to love God and to have a heart all +for God! Yes; but a voice answered me, You are not all for God, +you are not an angel. To which my whole soul replied, I as sincerely +desire to love and glorify God as any angel in heaven. But you +are filthy, and not fit for heaven. When hereupon there instantly +appeared above me and spread over me the blessed robes of Christ’s +righteousness which I could not but exult and triumph in. And +then I knew that I should be as active as an angel in heaven, and should +then be for ever stripped of my filthy garments and clothed with spotless +raiment.’ Let me die the death of David Brainerd, and let +my latter end be like his!</p> +<p>The third Shining One then came forward and set a mark on the forehead +of this happy man. And it was a most ancient and a most honourable +mark. For it was the same redeeming mark that was set by Moses +upon the foreheads of the children of Israel when the Lord took them +into covenant with Himself at the Passover in the wilderness. +It was the same distinguishing mark also that the man with the slaughter-weapon +in his hand first set upon the foreheads of the men who sighed and cried +for the abominations that were done in the midst of Jerusalem. +And it was the same glorious mark that John saw in the foreheads of +the hundred and forty and four thousand who stood upon Mount Zion and +sang a song that no man knew but those men who had been redeemed from +the earth by the blood of the Lamb. The mark was set for propriety +and for ornament and for beauty. It was set upon his forehead +so that all who looked on him ever after might thus know to what company +and what country he belonged, and that this was not his rest, but that +he had been called and chosen to a heavenly inheritance. And, +besides, it was no sooner set upon his forehead than it greatly added +to his dignity and his comeliness. He had now the gravity and +beauty of an angel; nay, the beauty in his measure and the gravity of +Goodwill at the gate himself. And, then, as if that were not enough, +the third Shining One also gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which +he was bidden look on as he ran, and which he was to give in when he +arrived at the Celestial Gate. Now, what was that sealed roll +but just the inward memory and record of all this pilgrim’s experiences +of the grace of God from the day he set out on pilgrimage down to that +day when he stood unburdened of his guilt, unclothed of his rags, and +clothed upon with change of raiment? The roll contained his own +secret life, all sealed and shone in upon by the light of God’s +countenance. The secret of the Lord with this pilgrim was written +within that roll, a secret that no man could read but he himself alone. +It was the same roll that this same Shining One gave to Abraham, the +first pilgrim and the father of all true pilgrims, after Melchizedek, +the priest of the Most High God, had brought forth bread and wine and +had blessed that great believer. ‘Fear not, Abram: I am +thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.’ And, again, +after Abram had lost his roll, like our pilgrim in the arbour, when +he recovered it he read thus in it: ‘I am the Almighty God: walk +before Me, and be thou perfect. And I will make My covenant between +Me and thee.’ And Abram fell on his face for joy. +It was the same roll out of which the Psalmist proposed to read a passage +to all those in his day who feared God. ‘Come and hear, +all ye that fear God, and I will declare what He hath done for my soul.’ +It was the same roll also that God sent to Israel in his sore captivity. +‘Fear not, O Israel, for I have redeemed thee; I have called thee +by thy name, thou art Mine. When thou passest through the waters, +I will be with thee.’ The high priest Joshua also had the +same roll put into his hand, and that not only for his own comfort, +but to make him the comforter of God’s afflicted people. +For after the Lord had plucked Joshua as a brand out of the fire, and +had made his iniquity to pass from him, and had clothed him with change +of raiment, and had set a fair mitre on his head, the Lord gave to Joshua +a sealed roll, the contents of which may be read to this day in the +book of the prophet Zechariah. Nay, more: ‘Will you have +me to speak plainly?’ says great Goodwin on this matter. +‘Then, though our Lord had the assurance of faith that He was +the Son of God, for He knew it out of the Scriptures by reading all +the prophets, yet, to have it sealed to Him with joy unspeakable and +glorious,—this was deferred to the time of His baptism. +He was then anointed with the oil of assurance and gladness in a more +peculiar and transcendent manner.’ ‘In His baptism,’ +says Bengel, ‘our Lord was magnificently enlightened. He +was previously the Son of God, and yet the power of the Divine testimony +to His Sonship at His baptism long affected Him in a lively manner.’ +And we see our Lord reading His roll to assure and sustain His heart +when all outward acceptance and sustenance failed Him. ‘There +is One who beareth witness of Me, and His witness is true. I receive +not witness from men. I have a greater witness than even that +of John. For the Father Himself that hath sent Me, He beareth +witness of Me.’ No wonder that our heavy-laden pilgrim of +yesterday gave three leaps for joy and went on singing with such a roll +as that in his bosom. For, at that supreme moment he had that +inward illumination and assurance sealed on his heart that had so gladdened +and sustained so many prophets and psalmists and apostles and saints +before his day. And though, like Abraham and all the other saints +who ever had that noble roll put into their keeping, except Jesus Christ, +he often lost it, yet as often as he again recovered it, it brought +back again with it all his first joy and gladness.</p> +<p>But, as was said at the beginning, the <i>Grace Abounding</i> is +the best of all our commentaries on <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>. +As thus here also: ‘Now had I an evidence, as I thought, of my +salvation from heaven, with many golden seals thereon, all hanging in +my sight. Now could I remember this manifestation and that other +discovery of grace with comfort, and should often long and desire that +the last day were come, that I might be for ever inflamed with the sight +and joy of Him and communion with Him whose head was crowned with thorns, +whose face was spit on, and body broken, and soul made an offering for +my sins. For whereas, before, I lay continually trembling at the +mouth of hell, now, methought, I was got so far therefrom that I could +not, when I looked back, scarce discern it. And oh! thought I, +that I were fourscore years old now, that I might die quickly, that +my soul might be gone to rest.’</p> +<p>Then Christian gave three leaps for joy and went on singing:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Thus far did I come laden with my sin,<br /> +Nor could ought ease the grief that I was in<br /> +Till I came hither: . . .<br /> +Blest Cross! blest Sepulchre! blest rather be<br /> +The Man that there was put to shame for me.’</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘A form of godliness.’—Paul.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We all began our religious life by being formalists. And we +were not altogether to blame for that. Our parents were first +to blame for that, and then our teachers, and then our ministers. +They made us say our psalm and our catechism to them, and if we only +said our sacred lesson without stumbling, we were straightway rewarded +with their highest praise. They seldom took the trouble to make +us understand the things we said to them. They were more than +content with our correct repetition of the words. We were never +taught either to read or repeat with our eyes on the object. And +we had come to our manhood before we knew how to seek for the visual +image that lies at the root of all our words. And thus the ill-taught +schoolboy became in us the father of the confirmed formalist. +The mischief of this neglect still spreads through the whole of our +life, but it is absolutely disastrous in our religious life. Look +at the religious formalist at family worship with his household gathered +round him all in his own image. He would not on any account let +his family break up any night without the habitual duty. He has +a severe method in his religious duties that nothing is ever allowed +to disarrange or in any way to interfere with. As the hour strikes, +the big Bible is brought out. He opens where he left off last +night, he reads the regulation chapter, he leads the singing in the +regulation psalm, and then, as from a book, he repeats his regulation +prayer. But he never says a word to show that he either sees or +feels what he reads, and his household break up without an idea in their +heads or an affection in their hearts. He comes to church and +goes through public worship in the same wooden way, and he sits through +the Lord’s Table in the same formal and ceremonious manner. +He has eyes of glass and hands of wood, and a heart without either blood +or motion in it. His mind and his heart were destroyed in his +youth, and all his religion is a religion of rites and ceremonies without +sense or substance. ‘Because I knew no better,’ says +Bunyan, ‘I fell in very eagerly with the religion of the times: +to wit, to go to church twice a day, and that, too, with the foremost. +And there should I sing and say as others did. Withal, I was so +overrun with the spirit of superstition that I adored, and that with +great devotion, even all things, both the high place, priest, clerk, +vestment, service, and what else belonged to the church: counting all +things holy that were therein contained. But all this time I was +not sensible of the danger and evil of sin. I was kept from considering +that sin would damn me, what religion soever I followed, unless I was +found in Christ. Nay, I never thought of Christ, nor whether there +was one or no.’</p> +<p>A formalist is not yet a hypocrite exactly, but he is ready now and +well on the way at any moment to become a hypocrite. As soon now +as some temptation shall come to him to make appear another and a better +man than he really is: when in some way it becomes his advantage to +seem to other people to be a spiritual man: when he thinks he sees his +way to some profit or praise by saying things and doing things that +are not true and natural to him,—then he will pass on from being +a bare and simple formalist, and will henceforth become a hypocrite. +He has never had any real possession or experience of spiritual things +amid all his formal observances of religious duties, and he has little +or no difficulty, therefore, in adding another formality or two to his +former life of unreality. And thus the transition is easily made +from a comparatively innocent and unconscious formalist to a conscious +and studied hypocrite. ‘An hypocrite,’ says Samuel +Rutherford, ‘is he who on the stage represents a king when he +is none, a beggar, an old man, a husband, when he is really no such +thing. To the Hebrews, they were <i>faciales</i>, face-men; <i>colorati</i>, +dyed men, red men, birds of many colours. You may paint a man, +you may paint a rose, you may paint a fire burning, but you cannot paint +a soul, or the smell of a rose, or the heat of a fire. And it +is hard to counterfeit spiritual graces, such as love to Christ, sincere +intending of the glory of God, and such like spiritual things.’ +Yes, indeed; it is hard to put on and to go through with a truly spiritual +grace even to the best and most spiritually-minded of men; and as for +the true hypocrite, he never honestly attempts it. If he ever +did honestly and resolutely attempt it, he would at once in that pass +out of the ranks of the hypocrites altogether and pass over into a very +different category. Bunyan lets us see how a formalist and a hypocrite +and a Christian all respectively do when they come to a real difficulty. +The three pilgrims were all walking in the same path, and with their +faces for the time in the same direction. They had not held much +conference together since their first conversation, and as time goes +on, Christian has no more talk but with himself, and that sometimes +sighingly, and sometimes more comfortably. When, all at once, +the three men come on the hill Difficulty. A severe act of self-denial +has to be done at this point of their pilgrimage. A proud heart +has to be humbled to the dust. A second, a third, a tenth place +has to be taken in the praise of men. An outbreak of anger and +wrath has to be kept under for hours and days. A great injury, +a scandalous case of ingratitude, has to be forgiven and forgotten; +in short, as Rutherford says, an impossible-to-be-counterfeited spiritual +grace has to be put into its severest and sorest exercise; and the result +was—what we know. Our pilgrim went and drank of the spring +that always runs at the bottom of the hill Difficulty, and thus refreshed +himself against that hill; while Formalist took the one low road, and +Hypocrisy the other, which led him into a wide field full of dark mountains, +where he stumbled and fell and rose no more. When, after his visit +to the spring, Christian began to go up the hill, saying:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;<br /> +The difficulty will not me offend;<br /> +For I perceive the way to life lies here;<br /> +Come, pluck up heart; let’s neither faint nor fear;<br /> +Better, though difficult, the right way to go,<br /> +Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now, all this brings us to the last step in the evolution of a perfect +hypocrite out of a simple formalist. The perfect and finished +hypocrite is not your commonplace and vulgar scoundrel of the playwright +and the penny-novelist type; the finest hypocrite is a character their +art cannot touch. ‘The worst of hypocrites,’ Rutherford +goes on to say, ‘is he who whitens himself till he deceives himself. +It is strange that a man hath such power over himself. But a man’s +heart may deceive his heart, and he may persuade himself that he is +godly and righteous when he knows nothing about it.’ ‘Preaching +in a certain place,’ says Boston, ‘after supper the mistress +of the house told me how I had terrified God’s people. This +was by my doctrine of self-love, self-righteousness, self-ends, and +such like. She restricted hypocrites to that sort that do all +things to be seen of men, and harped much on this—how can one +be a hypocrite who hates hypocrisy in other people? how can one be a +hypocrite and not know it? All this led me to see the need of +such doctrine.’ And if only to show you that this is not +the dismal doctrine of antediluvian Presbyterians only, Canon Mozley +says: ‘The Pharisee did not know that he was a Pharisee; if he +had known it he would not have been a Pharisee. He does not know +that he is a hypocrite. The vulgar hypocrite knows that he is +a hypocrite because he deceives others, but the true Scripture hypocrite +deceives himself.’ And the most subtle teacher of our century, +or of any century, has said: ‘What is a hypocrite? We are +apt to understand by a hypocrite one who makes a profession of religion +for secret ends without practising what he professes; who is malevolent, +covetous, or profligate, while he assumes an outward sanctity in his +words and conduct, and who does so deliberately, deceiving others, and +not at all self-deceived. But this is not what our Saviour seems +to have meant by a hypocrite; nor were the Pharisees such. The +Pharisees deceived themselves as well as others. Indeed, it is +not in human nature to deceive others for any long time without in a +measure deceiving ourselves also. When they began, each in his +turn, to deceive the people, they were not at the moment self-deceived. +But by degrees they forgot that outward ceremonies avail nothing without +inward purity. They did not know themselves, and they unawares +deceived themselves as well as the people.’ What a terrible +light, as of the last day itself, does all that cast upon the formalisms +and the hypocrisies of which our own religious life is full! And +what a terrible light it casts on those miserable men who are complete +and finished in their self-deception! For the complete and finished +hypocrite is not he who thinks that he is better than all other men; +that is hopeless enough; but the paragon of hypocrisy is he who does +not know that he is worse than all other men. And in his stone-blindness +to himself, and consequently to all reality and inwardness and spirituality +in religion, you see him intensely interested in, and day and night +occupied with, the outside things of religion, till nothing short of +a miracle will open his eyes. See him in the ministry, for instance, +sweating at his sermons and in his visiting, till you would almost think +that he is the minister of whom Paul prophesied, who should spend and +be spent for the salvation of men’s souls. But all the time, +such is the hypocrisy that haunts the ministerial calling, he is really +and at bottom animated with ambition for the praise of men only, and +for the increase of his congregation. See him, again, now assailing +or now defending a church’s secular privileges, and he knowing +no more, all the time, what a church has been set up for on earth than +the man in the moon. What a penalty his defence is and his support +to a church of Christ, and what an incubus his membership must be! +Or, see him, again, making long speeches and many prayers for the extension +of the kingdom of Christ, and all the time spending ten times more on +wine or whisky or tobacco, or on books or pictures or foreign travel, +than he gives to the cause of home or foreign missions. And so +on, all through our hypocritical and self-blinded life. Through +such stages, and to such a finish, does the formalist pass from his +thoughtless and neglected youth to his hardened, blinded, self-seeking +life, spent in the ostensible service of the church of Christ. +If the light that is in such men be darkness, how great is that darkness! +We may all well shudder as we hear our Lord saying to ministers and +members and church defenders and church supporters, like ourselves: +‘Now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth.’</p> +<p>Now, the first step to the cure of all such hypocrisy, and to the +salvation of our souls, is to know that we are hypocrites, and to know +also what that is in which we are most hypocritical. Well, there +are two absolutely infallible tests of a true hypocrite,—tests +warranted to unmask, expose, and condemn the most finished, refined, +and even evangelical hypocrite in this house to-night, or in all the +world. By far and away the best and swiftest is prayer. +True prayer, that is. For here again our inexpugnable hypocrisy +comes in and leads us down to perdition even in our prayers. There +is nothing our Lord more bitterly and more contemptuously assails the +Pharisees for than just the length, the loudness, the number, and the +publicity of their prayers. The truth is, public prayer, for the +most part, is no true prayer at all. It is at best an open homage +paid to secret prayer. We make such shipwrecks of devotion in +public prayer, that if we have a shred of true religion about us, we +are glad to get home and to shut our door. We preach in our public +prayers. We make speeches on public men and on public events in +our public prayers. We see the reporters all the time in our public +prayers. We do everything but pray in our public prayers. +And to get away alone,—what an escape that is from the temptations +and defeats of public prayer! No; public prayer is no test whatever +of a hypocrite. A hypocrite revels in public prayer. It +is secret prayer that finds him out. And even secret prayer will +sometimes deceive us. We are crushed down on our secret knees +sometimes, by sheer shame and the strength of conscience. Fear +of exposure, fear of death and hell, will sometimes make us shut our +door. A flood of passing feeling will sometimes make us pray for +a season in secret. Job had all that before him when he said, +‘Will the hypocrite delight himself in the Almighty? will he always +call upon God?’ No, he will not. And it is just here +that the hypocrite and the true Christian best discover themselves both +to God and to themselves. The true Christian will, as Job again +says, pray in secret till God slays him. He will pray in his dreams; +he will pray till death; he will pray after he is dead. Are you +in earnest, then, not to be any more a hypocrite and to know the infallible +marks of such? Ask the key of your closet door. Ask the +chair at your bedside. Ask the watchman what you were doing and +why your light was in so long. Ask the birds of the air and the +beasts of the field and the crows on the ploughed lands after your solitary +walk.</p> +<p>Almost a better test of true and false religion than even secret +prayer, but a test that is far more difficult to handle, is our opinion +of ourselves. In His last analysis of the truly justified man +and the truly reprobate, our Lord made the deepest test to be their +opinion of themselves. ‘God, I thank Thee that I am not +as this publican,’ said the hypocrite. ‘God be merciful +to me a sinner,’ said the true penitent. And then this fine +principle comes in here—not only to speed the sure sanctification +of a true Christian, but also, if he has skill and courage to use it, +for his assurance and comfort,—that the saintlier he becomes and +the riper for glory, the more he will beat his breast over what yet +abides within his breast. Yes; a man’s secret opinion of +himself is almost a better test of his true spiritual state than even +secret prayer. But, then, these two are not competing and exclusive +tests; they always go together and are never found apart. And +at the mouth of these two witnesses every true hypocrite shall be condemned +and every true Christian justified.</p> +<p>Dr. Pusey says somewhere that the perfect hypocrite is the man who +has the truth of God in his mind, but is without the love of God in +his heart. ‘Truth without love,’ says that saintly +scholar, ‘makes a finished Pharisee.’ Now we Scottish +and Free Church people believe we have the truth, if any people on the +face of the earth have it; and if we have not love mixed with it, you +see where and what we are. We are called to display a banner because +of the truth, but let love always be our flag-staff. Let us be +jealous for the truth, but let it be a godly, that is to say, a loving +jealousy. When we contend for purity of doctrine and for purity +of worship, when we protest against popery and priestcraft, when we +resist rationalism and infidelity, when we do battle now for national +religion, as we call it, and now for the freedom of the church, let +us do it all in love to all men, else we had better not do it at all. +If we cannot do it with clean and all-men-loving hearts, let us leave +all debate and contention to stronger and better men than we are. +The truth will never be advanced or guarded by us, nor will the Lord +of truth and love accept our service or bless our souls, till we put +on the divine nature, and have our hearts and our mouths still more +full of love than our minds and our mouths are full of truth. +Let us watch ourselves, lest with all our so-called love of truth we +be found reprobates at last because we loved the truth for some selfish +or party end, and hated and despised our brother, and believed all evil +and disbelieved all good concerning our brother. Truth without +love makes a hypocrite, says Dr. Pusey; and evangelical truth without +evangelical love makes an evangelical hypocrite, says Thomas Shepard. +Only where the whole truth is united to a heart full of love have we +the perfect New Testament Christian.</p> +<h2>TIMOROUS AND MISTRUST</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘There is a lion in the way.’—The Slothful +Man.</p> +<p>‘I must venture.’—Christian.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘I at any rate must venture,’ said Christian to Timorous +and Mistrust. ‘Whatever you may do I must venture, even +if the lions you speak of should pull me to pieces. I, for one, +shall never go back. To go back is nothing but death; to go forward +is fear of death and everlasting life beyond it. I will yet go +forward.’ So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and +Christian went on his way. George Offor says, in his notes on +this passage, that civil despotism and ecclesiastical tyranny so terrified +many young converts in John Bunyan’s day, that multitudes turned +back like Mistrust and Timorous; while at the same time, many like Bunyan +himself went forward and for a time fell into the lion’s mouth. +Civil despotism and ecclesiastical tyranny do not stand in our way as +they stood in Bunyan’s way—at least, not in the same shape: +but every age has its own lions, and every Christian man has his own +lions that neither civil despots nor ecclesiastical tyrants know anything +about.</p> +<p>Now, who or what is the lion in your way? Who or what is it +that fills you with such timorousness and mistrust, that you are almost +turning back from the way to life altogether? The fiercest of +all our lions is our own sin. When a man’s own sin not only +finds him out and comes roaring after him, but when it dashes past him +and gets into the woods and thickets before him, and stands pawing and +foaming on the side of his way, that is a trial of faith and love and +trust indeed. Sometimes a man’s past sins will fill all +his future life with sleepless apprehensions. He is never sure +at what turn in his upward way he may not suddenly run against some +of them standing ready to rush out upon him. And it needs no little +quiet trust and humble-minded resignation to carry a man through this +slough and that bottom, up this hill and down that valley, all the time +with his life in his hand; and yet at every turn, at every rumour that +there are lions in the way, to say, Come lion, come lamb, come death, +come life, I must venture, I will yet go forward. As Job also, +that wonderful saint of God, said, ‘Hold your peace, let me alone +that I may speak, and let come on me what will. Wherefore do I +take my flesh in my teeth and put my life in my hand? Though He +slay me, yet will I trust in Him. He also shall be my salvation; +for an hypocrite shall not come before Him.’</p> +<p>One false step, one stumble in life, one error in judgment, one outbreak +of an unbridled temperament, one small sin, if it is even so much as +a sin, of ignorance or of infirmity, will sometimes not only greatly +injure us at the time, but, in some cases, will fill all our future +life with trials and difficulties and dangers. Many of us shall +have all our days to face a future of defeat, humiliation, impoverishment, +and many hardships, that has not come on us on account of any presumptuous +transgression of God’s law so much as simply out of some combination +of unfortunate circumstances in which we may have only done our duty, +but have not done it in the most serpent-like way. And when we +are made to suffer unjustly or disproportionately all our days for our +error of judgment or our want of the wisdom of this world, or what not, +we are sorely tempted to be bitter and proud and resentful and unforgiving, +and to go back from duty and endurance and danger altogether. +But we must not. We must rather say to ourselves, Now and here, +if not in the past, I must play the man, and, by God’s help, the +wise man. I must pluck safety henceforth out of the heart of the +nettle danger. Yes, I made a mistake. I did what I would +not do now, and I must not be too proud to say so. I acted, I +see now, precipitately, inconsiderately, imprudently. And I must +not gloom and rebel and run away from the cross and the lion. +I must not insist or expect that the always wise and prudent man’s +reward is to come to me. The lion in my way is a lion of my own +rearing; and I must not turn my back on him, even if he should be let +loose to leap on me and rend me. I must pass under his paw and +through his teeth, if need be, to a life with him and beyond him of +humility and duty and quiet-hearted submission to his God and mine.</p> +<p>Then, again, our salvation itself sometimes, our true sanctification, +puts on a lion’s skin and not unsuccessfully imitates an angry +lion’s roar. Some saving grace that up till now we have +been fatally lacking in lies under the very lip of that lion we see +standing straight in our way. God in His wisdom so orders our +salvation, that we must work out the best part of it with fear and trembling. +Right before us, just beside us, standing over us with his heavy paw +upon us, is a lion, from under whose paw and from between whose teeth +we must pluck and put on that grace in which our salvation lies. +Repentance and reformation lie in the way of that lion; resignation +also and humility; the crucifixion of our own will; the sacrifice of +our own heart; in short, everything that is still lacking but is indispensable +to our salvation lies through that den of lions. One man here +is homeless and loveless; another is childless; another has a home and +children, and much envies the man who has neither; one has talents there +is no scope for; another has the scope, but not the sufficient talent; +another must now spend all his remaining life in a place where he sees +that anger and envy and jealousy and malevolence will be his roaring +lions daily seeking to devour his soul. There is not a Christian +man or woman in this house whose salvation, worth being called a salvation, +does not lie through such a lion’s thicket as that. Our +Lord Himself was a roaring lion to John the Baptist. For the Baptist’s +salvation lay not in his powerful preaching, but in his being laid aside +from all preaching; not in his crowds increasing, but in his Successor’s +crowds increasing and his decreasing. The Baptist was the greatest +born of woman in that day, not because he was a thundering preacher—any +ordinary mother in Israel might have been his mother in that: but to +decrease sweetly and to steal down quietly to perfect humility and self-oblivion,—that +salvation was reserved for the son of Elisabeth alone. I would +not like to say Who that is champing and pawing for your blood right +in your present way. Reverence will not let me say Who it is. +Only, you venture on Him.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I shall venture!’ said Christian to the two terrified +and retreating men. Now, every true venture is made against risk +and uncertainty, against anxiety and danger and fear. And it is +just this that constitutes the nobleness and blessedness of faith. +Faith sells all for Christ. Faith risks all for eternal life. +Faith faces all for salvation. When it is at the worst, faith +still says, Very well; even if there is no Celestial City anywhere in +the world, it is better to die still seeking it than to live on in the +City of Destruction. Even if there is no Jesus Christ,—I +have read about Him and heard about Him and pictured Him to myself, +till, say what you will, I shall die kissing and embracing that Divine +Image I have in my heart. Even if there is neither mercy-seat +nor intercession in heaven, I shall henceforth pray without ceasing. +Far far better for me all the rest of my sinful life to be clothed with +sackcloth and ashes, even if there is no fountain opened in Jerusalem +for sin and uncleanness, and no change of raiment. Christian protested +that, as for him, lions and all, he had no choice left. And no +more have we. He must away somewhere, anywhere, from his past +life. And so must we. If all the lions that ever drank blood +are to collect upon his way, let them do so; they shall not all make +him turn back. Why should they? What is a whole forest full +of lions to a heart and a life full of sin? Lions are like lambs +compared with sin. ‘Good morning! I for one must venture. +I shall yet go forward.’ So Mistrust and Timorous ran down +the hill, and Christian went on his way.</p> +<p>So I saw in my dream that he made haste and went forward, that if +possible he might get lodging in the house called Beautiful that stood +by the highway side. Now, before he had gone far he entered into +a very narrow passage which was about a furlong off from the porter’s +lodge, and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two +lions in the way. Then was he afraid, and thought also to go back, +for he thought that nothing but death was before him. But the +porter at the lodge, whose name was Watchful, perceiving that Christian +made a halt, as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, ‘Is +thy strength so small? Fear not the lions, for they are chained, +and are only placed there for the trial of faith where it is, and for +the discovery of those who have none. Keep the midst of the path +and no hurt shall come to thee.’ Yes, that is all we have +to do. Whatever our past life may have been, whatever our past +sins, past errors of judgment, past mistakes and mishaps, whatever of +punishment or chastisement or correction or instruction or sanctification +and growth in grace may be under those lions’ skins and between +their teeth for us, all we have got to do at present is to leave the +lions to Him who set them there, and to go on, up to them and past them, +keeping always to the midst of the path. The lions may roar at +us till they have roared us deaf and blind, but we are far safer in +the midst of that path than we would be in our own bed. Only let +us keep in the midst of the path. When their breath is hot and +full of blood on our cheek; when they paw up the blinding earth; when +we feel as if their teeth had closed round our heart,—still, all +the more, let us keep in the midst of the path. We must sometimes +walk on a razor-edge of fear and straightforwardness; that is the only +way left for us now. But, then, we have the Divine assurance that +on that perilous edge no hurt shall come to us. ‘Temptations,’ +says our author in another place, ‘when we meet them at first, +are as the lion that roared upon Samson; but if we overcome them, the +next time we see them we shall find a nest of honey in them.’ +O God, for grace and sense and imagination to see and understand and +apply all that to our own daily life! O to be able to take all +that home to-night and see it all there; lions and runaways, venturesome +souls, narrow paths, palaces of beauty, everlasting life and all! +Open Thou our eyes that we may see the wonderful things that await us +in our own house at home!</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Things out of hope are compassed oft with venturing.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So they are; and so they were that day with our terrified pilgrim. +He made a venture at the supreme moment of his danger, and things that +were quite out of all hope but an hour before were then compassed and +ever after possessed by him. Make the same venture, then, yourselves +to-night. Naught venture, naught have. Your lost soul is +not much to venture, but it is all that Christ at this moment asks of +you—that you leave your lost soul in His hand, and then go straight +on from this moment in the middle of the path: the path, that is, as +your case may be, of purity, humility, submission, resignation, and +self-denial. Keep your mind and your heart, your eyes and your +feet, in the very middle of that path, and you shall have compassed +the House Beautiful before you know. The lions shall soon be behind +you, and the grave and graceful damsels of the House—Discretion +and Prudence and Piety and Charity—shall all be waiting upon you.</p> +<h2>PRUDENCE <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Let a man examine himself.’—Paul.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Let a man examine himself, says the apostle to the Corinthians, and +so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup. And thus it +was, that before the pilgrim was invited to sit down at the supper table +in the House Beautiful, quite a number of most pointed and penetrating +questions were put to him by those who had charge of that house and +its supper table. And thus the time was excellently improved till +the table was spread, while the short delay and the successive exercises +whetted to an extraordinary sharpness the pilgrim’s hunger for +the supper. Piety and Charity, who had joint charge of the house +from the Master of the house, held each a characteristic conversation +with Christian, but it was left to Prudence to hold the most particular +discourse with him until supper was ready, and it is to that so particular +discourse that I much wish to turn your attention to-night.</p> +<p>With great tenderness, but at the same time with the greatest possible +gravity, Prudence asked the pilgrim whether he did not still think sometimes +of the country from whence he had come out. Yes, he replied; how +could I help thinking continually of that unhappy country and of my +sad and miserable life in it; but, believe me,—or, rather, you +cannot believe me,—with what shame and detestation I always think +of my past life. My face burns as I now speak of my past life +to you, and as I think what my old companions know and must often say +about me. I detest, as you cannot possibly understand, every remembrance +of my past life, and I hate and never can forgive myself, who, with +mine own hands, so filled all my past life with shame and self-contempt. +Gently stopping the remorseful pilgrim’s self-accusations about +his past life, Prudence asked him if he had not still with him, and, +indeed, within him, some of the very things that had so destroyed both +him and all his past life. ‘Yes,’ he honestly and +humbly said. ‘Yes, but greatly against my will: especially +my inward and sinful cogitations.’ At this Prudence looked +on him with all her deep and soft eyes, for it was to this that she +had been leading the conversation up all the time. Prudence had +a great look of satisfaction, mingled with love and pity, at the way +the pilgrim said ‘especially my inward and sinful cogitations.’ +Those who stood by and observed Prudence wondered at her delight in +the sad discourse on which the pilgrim now entered. But she had +her own reasons for her delight in this particular kind of discourse, +and it was seldom that she lighted on a pilgrim who both understood +her questions and responded to them as did this man now sitting beside +her. Now, my brethren, all parable apart, is that your religious +experience? Are you full of shame and detestation at your inward +cogitations? Are you tormented, enslaved, and downright cursed +with your own evil thoughts? I do not ask whether or no you have +such thoughts always within you. I do not ask, because I know. +But I ask, because I would like to make sure that you know what, and +the true nature of what, goes on incessantly in your mind and in your +heart. Do you, or do you not, spit out your most inward thoughts +ten times a day like poison? If you do, you are a truly religious +man, and if you do not, you do not yet know the very ABC of true religion, +and your dog has a better errand at the Lord’s table than you +have. And if your minister lets you sit down at the Lord’s +table without holding from time to time some particular discourse with +you about your sinful thoughts, he is deceiving and misleading you, +besides laying up for himself an awakening at last to shame and everlasting +contempt. What a mill-stone his communion roll will be round such +a minister’s neck! And how his congregation will gnash their +teeth at him when they see to what his miserable ministry has brought +them!</p> +<p>Let a man examine himself, said Paul. What about your inward +and sinful cogitations? asked Prudence. How long shall thy vain +thoughts lodge within thee? demanded the bold prophet. Now, my +brethren, what have you to say to that particular accusation? Do you +know what vain thoughts are? Are you at all aware what multitudes +of such thoughts lodge within you? Do they drive you every day +to your knees, and do you blush with shame when you are alone before +God at the fountain of folly that fills your mind and your heart continually? +The Apostle speaks of vain hopes that make us ashamed that we ever entertained +them. You have been often so ashamed, and yet do not such hopes +still too easily arise in your heart? What castles of idiotic +folly you still build! Were a sane man or a modest woman even +to dream such dreams of folly overnight, they would blush and hide their +heads all day at the thought. Out of a word, out of a look, out +of what was neither a word nor a look intended for you, what a world +of vanity will you build out of it! The question of Prudence is +not whether or no you are still a born fool at heart, she does not put +unnecessary questions: hers to you is the more pertinent and particular +question, whether, since you left your former life and became a Christian, +you feel every day increasing shame and detestation at yourself, on +account of the vanity of your inward cogitations. My brethren, +can you satisfy her who is set by her Master to hold particular discourse +with all true Christians before supper? Can you say with the Psalmist,—could +you tell Prudence where the Psalmist says,—I hate vain thoughts, +but Thy law do I love? And can you silence her by telling her +that her Master alone knows with what shame you think that He has such +a fool as you are among His people?</p> +<p>Anger, also, sudden and even long-entertained anger, was one of the +‘many failings’ of which Christian was so conscious to himself. +His outbursts of anger at home, he bitterly felt, might well be one +of the causes why his wife and children did not accompany him on his +pilgrimage. And though he knew his failing in this respect, and +was very wary of it, yet he often failed even when he was most wary. +Now, while anger is largely a result of our blood and temperament, yet +few of us are so well-balanced and equable in our temperament and so +pure and cool in our blood, as altogether to escape frequent outbursts +of anger. The most happily constituted and the best governed of +us have too much cause to be ashamed and penitent both before God and +our neighbours for our outbursts of angry passion. But Prudence +is so particular in her discourse before supper, that she goes far deeper +into our anger than our wives and our children, our servants and our +neighbours, can go. She not only asks if we stamp out the rising +anger of our heart as we would stamp out sparks of fire in a house full +of gunpowder; but she insists on being told what we think of ourselves +when the house of our heart is still so full of such fire and such gunpowder. +Any man, to call a man, would be humbled in his own eyes and in his +walk before his house at home after an explosion of anger among them; +but he who would satisfy Prudence and sit beside her at supper, must +not only never let his anger kindle, but the simple secret heat of it, +that fire of hell that is hid from all men but himself in the flint +of his own hard and proud heart,—what, asks Prudence, do you think +of that, and of yourself on account of that? Does that keep you +not only watchful and prayerful, but, what is the best ground in you +of all true watchfulness and prayerfulness, full of secret shame, self-fear, +and self-detestation? One forenoon table would easily hold all +our communicants if Prudence had the distribution of the tokens.</p> +<p>And, then, we who are true pilgrims, are of all men the most miserable, +on account of that ‘failing,’ that rankling sting in our +hearts, when any of our friends has more of this world’s possessions, +honours, and praises than we have, that pain at our neighbour’s +pleasure, that sickness at his health, that hunger for what we see him +eat, that thirst for what we see him drink, that imprisonment of our +spirits when we see him set at liberty, that depression at his exaltation, +that sorrow at his joy, and joy at his sorrow, that evil heart that +would have all things to itself. Yes, said Christian, I am only +too conversant with all these sinful cogitations, but they are all greatly +against my will, and might I but choose mine own thoughts, do you suppose +that I would ever think these things any more? ‘The cause +is in my will,’ said Cæsar, on a great occasion. But +the true Christian, unhappily, cannot say that. If he could say +that, he would soon say also that the snare is broken and that his soul +has escaped. And then the cause of all his evil cogitations, his +vain thoughts, his angry feelings, his envious feelings, his ineradicable +covetousness, his hell-rooted and heaven-towering pride, and his whole +evil heart of unbelief would soon be at an end. ‘I cannot +be free of sin,’ said Thomas Boston, ‘but God knows that +He would be welcome to make havoc of my lusts to-night and to make me +henceforth a holy man. I know no lust that I would not be content +to part with. My will bound hand and foot I desire to lay at His +feet.’ Yes: such is the mystery and depth of sin in the +hearts of all God’s saints, that far deeper than their will, far +back behind their will, the whole substance and very core of their hearts +is wholly corrupt and enslaved to sin. And thus it is that while +their renewed and delivered will works out, so far, their salvation +in their walk and conversation among men, the helplessness of their +will in the cleansing and the keeping of their hearts is to the end +the sorrow and the mystery of their sanctification. To will was +present with Paul, and with Bunyan, and with Boston; but their heart—they +could not with all their keeping keep their heart. No man can; +no man who has at all tried it can. ‘Might I but choose +mine own thoughts, I would choose never to think of these things more: +but when I would be doing of that which is best, that which is worst +is with me.’ We can choose almost all things. Our +will and choice have almost all things at their disposal. We can +choose our God. We can choose life or death. We can choose +heaven or hell. We can choose our church, our minister, our books, +our companions, our words, our works, and, to some extent, our inward +thoughts, but only to some extent. We can encourage this or that +thought; we can entertain it and dwell upon it; or we can detect it, +detest it, and cast it out. But that secret place in our heart +where our thoughts hide and harbour, and out of which they spring so +suddenly upon the mind and the heart, the imagination and the conscience,—of +that secretest of all secret places, God alone is able to say, I search +the heart. ‘As for secret thoughts,’ says our author, +speaking of his own former religious life, ‘I took no notice of +them, neither did I understand what Satan’s temptations were, +nor how they were to be withstood and resisted.’ But now +all these things are his deepest grief, as they are ours,—as many +of us as have been truly turned in our deepest hearts to God.</p> +<p>‘But,’ replied Prudence, ‘do you not find sometimes +as if those things were vanquished which at other times are your perplexity?’ +‘Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours +in which such things happen to me.’ ‘Can you remember +by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished?’ +‘Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and +when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it; also, when I look +into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my +thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it.’ +Yes; and these same things have many a time done it to ourselves also. +We also, my brethren—let me tell you your own undeniable experience—we +also have such golden hours sometimes, when we feel as if we should +never again have such an evil heart within us. The Cross of Christ +to us also has done it. It is of such golden hours that Isaac +Watts sings in his noble hymn:</p> +<blockquote><p>‘When I survey the wondrous Cross;’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and as often as we sing that hymn with our eyes upon the object, +that will for a time vanquish our worst cogitations. Also, when +we read the roll that we too carry in our bosom—that is to say, +when we go back into our past life till we see it and feel it all, and +till we can think and speak of nothing else but the sin that abounded +in it and the grace that much more abounded, that has a thousand times +given us also golden hours, even rest from our own evil hearts. +And we also have often made our hearts too hot for sin to show itself, +when we read our hearts deep into such books as <i>The Paradiso</i>, +<i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>, <i>The Saint’s Rest</i>, +<i>The Serious Call</i>, <i>The Religious Affections</i>, and such like. +These books have often vanquished our annoyances, and given us golden +hours on the earth. Yes, but that is but seldom.</p> +<p>‘Now, what is it,’ asked Prudence, as she wound up this +so particular colloquy, ‘that makes you so desirous to go to Mount +Zion?’</p> +<p>‘Why,’ replied the pilgrim, and the water stood in his +eyes, ‘why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on +the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this +day are an annoyance to me; there they say is no death, and there shall +I dwell with such company as I love best. For, to tell you truth, +I love Him, because by Him I was eased of my burden, and I am weary +of my inward sickness; and I would fain be where I shall die no more, +and for ever with that company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, +holy.’</p> +<h2>CHARITY</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘I will walk within my house with a perfect heart.’—David.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There can be nobody here to-night so stark stupid as to suppose that +the pilgrim had run away from home and left his wife and children to +the work-house. There have been wiseacres who have found severe +fault with John Bunyan because he made his Puritan pilgrim such a bad +husband and such an unnatural father. But nobody possessed of +a spark of common sense, not to say religion or literature, would ever +commit himself to such an utter imbecility as that. John Bunyan’s +pilgrim, whatever he may have been before he became a pilgrim, all the +time he was a pilgrim, was the most faithful, affectionate, and solicitous +husband in all the country round about, and the tenderest, the most +watchful, and the wisest of fathers. This pilgrim stayed all the +more at home that he went so far away from home; he accomplished his +whole wonderful pilgrimage beside his own forge and at his own fireside; +and he entered the Celestial City amid trumpets and bells and harps +and psalms, while all the time sleeping in his own humble bed. +The House Beautiful, therefore, to which we have now come in his company, +is not some remote and romantic mansion away up among the mountains +a great many days’ journey distant from this poor man’s +everyday home. The House Beautiful was nothing else,—what +else better, what else so good could it be?—than just this Christian +man’s first communion Sabbath and his first communion table (first, +that is, after his true conversion from sin to God and his confessed +entrance into a new life), while the country from whence he had come +out, and concerning which both Piety and Prudence catechised him so +closely, was just his former life of open ungodliness and all his evil +walk and conversation while he was as yet living without God and without +hope in the world. The country on which he confessed that he now +looked back with so much shame and detestation was not England or Bedfordshire, +but the wicked life he had lived in that land and in that shire. +And when Charity asked him as to whether he was a married man and had +a family, she knew quite well that he was, only she made a pretence +of asking him those domestic questions in order thereby to start the +touching conversation.</p> +<p>Beginning, then, at home, as she always began, Charity said to Christian, +‘Have you a family? Are you a married man?’ +‘I have a wife and four small children,’ answered Christian. +‘And why did you not bring them with you?’ Then Christian +wept and said, ‘Oh, how willingly would I have done so, but they +were all of them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage.’ +‘But you should have talked to them and have shown them their +danger.’ ‘So I did,’ he replied, ‘but +I seemed to them as one that mocked.’ Now, this of talking, +and, especially, of talking about religious things to children, is one +of the most difficult things in the world,—that is, to do it well. +Some people have the happy knack of talking to their own and to other +people’s children so as always to interest and impress them. +But such happy people are few. Most people talk at their children +whenever they begin to talk to them, and thus, without knowing it, they +nauseate their children with their conversation altogether. To +respect a little child, to stand in some awe of a little child, to choose +your topics, your opportunities, your neighbourhood, your moods and +his as well as all your words, and always to speak your sincerest, simplest, +most straightforward and absolutely wisest is indispensable with a child. +Take your mannerisms, your condescensions, your affectations, your moralisings, +and all your insincerities to your debauched equals, but bring your +truest and your best to your child. Unless you do so, you will +be sure to lay yourself open to a look that will suddenly go through +you, and that will swiftly convey to you that your child sees through +you and despises you and your conversation too. ‘You should +not only have talked to your children of their danger,’ said Charity, +‘but you should have shown them their danger.’ Yes, +Charity; but a man must himself see his own and his children’s +danger too, before he can show it to them, as well as see it clearly +at the time he is trying to show it to them. And how many fathers, +do you suppose, have the eyes to see such danger, and how then can they +shew such danger to their children, of all people? Once get fathers +to see dangers or anything else aright, and then you will not need to +tell them how they are to instruct and impress their children. +Nature herself will then tell them how to talk to their children, and +when Nature teaches, all our children will immediately and unweariedly +listen.</p> +<p>But, especially, said Charity, as your boys grew up—I think +you said that you had four boys and no girls?—well, then, all +the more, as they grew up, you should have taken occasion to talk to +them about yourself. Did your little boy never petition you for +a story about yourself; and as he grew up did you never confide to him +what you have never confided to his mother? Something, as I was +saying, that made you sad when you were a boy and a rising man, with +a sadness your son can still see in you as you talk to him. In +conversations like that a boy finds out what a friend he has in his +father, and his father from that day has his best friend in his son. +And then as Matthew grew up and began to out-grow his brothers and to +form friendships out of doors, did you study to talk at the proper time +to him, and on subjects on which you never venture to talk about to +any other boy or man? You men, Charity went on to say, live in +a world of your own, and though we women are well out of it, yet we +cannot be wholly ignorant that it is there. And, we may well be +wrong, but we cannot but think that fathers, if not mothers, might safely +tell their men-children at least more than they do tell them of the +sure dangers that lie straight in their way, of the sorrow that men +and women bring on one another, and of what is the destruction of so +many cities. We may well be wrong, for we are only women, but +I have told you what we all think who keep this house and hear the reports +and repentances of pilgrims, both Piety and Prudence and I myself. +And I, for one, largely agree with the three women. It is easier +said than done. But the simple saying of it may perhaps lead some +fathers and mothers to think about it, and to ask whether or no it is +desirable and advisable to do it, which of them is to attempt it, on +what occasion, and to what extent. Christian by this time had +the Slough of Despond with all its history and all that it contained +to tell his eldest son about; he had the wicket gate also just above +the slough, the hill Difficulty, the Interpreter’s House, the +place somewhat ascending with a cross standing upon it, and a little +below, in the bottom, a sepulchre, not to speak of her who assaulted +Faithful, whose name was Wanton, and who at one time was like to have +done even that trusty pilgrim a lifelong mischief. Christian rather +boasted to Charity of his wariness, especially in the matter of his +children’s amusements, but Charity seemed to think that he had +carried his wariness into other matters besides amusements, without +the best possible results there either. I have sometimes thought +with her that among our multitude of congresses and conferences of all +kinds of people and upon all manner of subjects, room and membership +might have been found for a conference of fathers and mothers. +Fathers to give and take counsel about how to talk to their sons, and +mothers to their daughters. I am much of Charity’s mind, +that, if more were done at home, and done with some frankness, for our +sons and daughters, there would be fewer fathers and mothers found sitting +at the Lord’s table alone. ‘You should have talked +to them,’ said Charity, with some severity in her tones, ‘and, +especially, you should have told them of your own sorrow.’</p> +<p>And then, coming still closer up to Christian, Charity asked him +whether he prayed, both before and after he so spoke to his children, +that God would bless what he said to them. Charity believeth all +things, hopeth all things, but when she saw this man about to sit down +all alone at the supper table, it took Charity all her might to believe +that he had both spoken to his children and at the same time prayed +to God for them as he ought to have done. Our old ministers used +to lay this vow on all fathers and mothers at the time of baptism, that +they were to pray both with and for their children. Now, that +is a fine formula; it is a most comprehensive, and, indeed, exhaustive +formula. Both with and for. And especially with. With, +at such and such times, on such and such occasions, and in such and +such places. At those times, say, when your boy has told a lie, +or struck his little brother, or stolen something, or destroyed something. +To pray with him at such times, and to pray with him properly, and, +if you feel able to do it, and are led to do it, to tell him something +after the prayer about yourself, and your own not-yet-forgotten boyhood, +and your father; it makes a fine time to mix talk and prayer together +in that way. Charity is not easily provoked, but the longer she +lives and keeps the table in the House Beautiful the more she is provoked +to think that there is far too little prayer among pilgrims; far too +little of all kinds of prayer, but especially prayer with and for their +children. But hard as it was to tell all the truth at that moment +about Christian’s past walk in his house at home, yet he was able +with the simple truth to say that he had indeed prayed both with and +for his children, and that, as they knew and could not but remember, +not seldom. Yes, he said, I did sometimes so pray with my boys, +and that too, as you may believe, with much affection, for you must +think that my four boys were all very dear to me. And it is my +firm belief that all that good man’s boys will come right yet: +Matthew and Joseph and James and Samuel and all. ‘With much +affection.’ I like that. I have unbounded faith in +those prayers, both for and with, in which there is much affection. +It is want of affection, and want of imagination, that shipwrecks so +many of our prayers. But this man’s prayers had both these +elements of sure success in them, and they must come at last to harbour. +At that one word ‘with much affection,’ this man’s +closet door flies open and I see the old pilgrim first alone, and then +with his arms round his eldest son’s neck, and both father and +son weeping together till they are ashamed to appear at supper till +they have washed their faces and got their most smiling and everyday +looks put on again. You just wait and see if Matthew and all the +four boys down to the last do not escape into the Celestial City before +the gate is shut. And when it is asked, Who are these and whence +came they? listen to their song and you will hear those four happy children +saying that their father, when they were yet boys, both talked with +them and prayed for and with them with so much affection that therefore +they are before the throne.</p> +<p>Why, then, with such a father and with such makable boys, why was +this household brought so near everlasting shipwreck? It was the +mother that did it. In one word, it was the wife and the mother +that did it. It was the mistress of the house who wrought the +mischief here. She was a poor woman, she was a poor man’s +wife, and one would have thought that she had little enough temptation +to harm upon this present world. But there it was, she did hang +upon it as much as if she had been the mother of the finest daughters +and the most promising boys in all the town. Things like this +were from time to time reported to her by her neighbours. One +fine lady had been heard to say that she would never have for her tradesman +any man who frequented conventicles, who was not content with the religion +of his betters, and who must needs scorn the parish church and do despite +to the saints’ days. Another gossip asked her what she expected +to make of her great family of boys when it was well known that all +the gentry in the neighbourhood but two or three had sworn that they +would never have a hulking Puritan to brush their boots or run their +errands. And it almost made her husband burn his book and swear +that he would never be seen at another prayer-meeting when his wife +so often said to him that he should never have had children, that he +should never have made her his wife, and that he was not like this when +they were first man and wife. And in her bitterness she would +name this wife or that maid, and would say, You should have married +her. She would have gone to the meeting-house with you as often +as you wished. Her sons are far enough from good service to please +you. ‘My wife,’ he softly said, ‘was afraid +of losing the world. And then, after that, my growing sons were +soon given over, all I could do, to the foolish delights of youth, so +that, what by one thing and what by another, they left me to wander +in this manner alone.’ And I suppose there is scarcely a +household among ourselves where there have not been serious and damaging +misunderstandings between old-fashioned fathers and their young people +about what the old people called the ‘foolish delights’ +of their sons and daughters. And in thinking this matter over, +I have often been struck with how Job did when his sons and his daughters +were bent upon feasting and dancing in their eldest brother’s +house. The old man did not lay an interdict upon the entertainment. +He did not take part in it, but neither did he absolutely forbid it. +If it must be it must be, said the wise patriarch. And since I +do not know whom they may meet there, or what they may be tempted to +do, I will sanctify them all. I will not go up into my bed till +I have prayed for all my seven sons and three daughters, each one of +them by their names; and till they come home safely I will rise every +morning and offer burnt-offerings according to the number of them all. +And do you think that those burnt-offerings and accompanying intercessions +would go for nothing when the great wind came from the wilderness and +smote the four corners of the banqueting-house? If you cannot +banish the love of foolish delights out the hearts of your sons and +daughters, then do not quarrel with them over such things; a family +quarrel in a Christian man’s house is surely far worse than a +feast or a dance. Only, if they must feast and dance and such +like, be you all the more diligent in your exercises at home on their +behalf till they are back again, where, after all, they like best to +be, in their good, kind, liberal, and loving father’s house.</p> +<p>Have you a family? Are you a married man? Or, if not, +do you hope one day to be? Then attend betimes to what Charity +says to Christian in the House Beautiful, and not less to what he says +back again to her.</p> +<h2>SHAME</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me, and of My words, +of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when He shall come in His own +glory, and in His Father’s, and of the holy angels.’—Our +Lord.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Shame has not got the attention that it deserves either from our +moral philosophers or from our practical and experimental divines. +And yet it would well repay both classes of students to attend far more +to shame. For, what really is shame? Shame is an original +instinct planted in our souls by our Maker, and intended by Him to act +as a powerful and pungent check to our doing of any act that is mean +or dishonourable in the eyes of our fellow-men. Shame is a kind +of social conscience. Shame is a secondary sense of sin. +In shame, our imagination becomes a kind of moral sense. Shame +sets up in our bosom a not undivine tribunal, which judges us and sentences +us in the absence or the silence of nobler and more awful sanctions +and sentences. But then, as things now are with us, like all the +rest of the machinery of the soul, shame has gone sadly astray both +in its objects and in its operations, till it demands a long, a severe, +and a very noble discipline over himself before any man can keep shame +in its proper place and directed in upon its proper objects. In +the present disorder of our souls, we are all acutely ashamed of many +things that are not the proper objects of shame at all; while, on the +other hand, we feel no shame at all at multitudes of things that are +really most blameworthy, dishonourable, and contemptible. We are +ashamed of things in our lot and in our circumstances that, if we only +knew it, are our opportunity and our honour; we are ashamed of things +that are the clear will and the immediate dispensation of Almighty God. +And, then, we feel no shame at all at the most dishonourable things, +and that simply because the men around us are too coarse in their morals +and too dull in their sensibilities to see any shame in such things. +And thus it comes about that, in the very best of men, their still perverted +sense of shame remains in them a constant snare and a source of temptation. +A man of a fine nature feels keenly the temptation to shrink from those +paths of truth and duty that expose him to the cruel judgments and the +coarse and scandalising attacks of public and private enemies. +It was in the Valley of Humiliation that Shame set upon Faithful, and +it is a real humiliation to any man of anything of this pilgrim’s +fine character and feeling to be attacked, scoffed at, and held up to +blame and opprobrium. And the finer and the more affectionate +any man’s heart and character are, the more he feels and shrinks +from the coarse treatment this world gives to those whom it has its +own reasons to hate and assail. They had the stocks and the pillory +and the shears in Bunyan’s rude and uncivilised day, by means +of which many of the best men of that day were exposed to the insults +and brutalities of the mob. The newspapers would be the pillory +of our day, were it not that, on the whole, the newspaper press is conducted +with such scrupulous fairness and with a love of truth and justice such +that no man need shrink from the path of duty through fear of insult +and injury.</p> +<p>But it is time to come to the encounter between Shame and Faithful +in the Valley of Humiliation. Shame, properly speaking, is not +one of our Bunyan gallery of portraits at all. Shame, at best, +is but a kind of secondary character in this dramatic book. We +do not meet with Shame directly; we only hear about him through the +report of Faithful. That first-class pilgrim was almost overcome +of Shame, so hot was their encounter; and it is the extraordinarily +feeling, graphic, and realistic account of their encounter that Faithful +gives us that has led me to take up Shame for our reproof and correction +to-night.</p> +<p>Religion altogether, but especially all personal religion, said Shame +to Faithful, is an unmanly business. There is a certain touch +of smallness and pitifulness, he said, in all religion, but especially +in experimental religion. It brings a man into junctures and into +companionships, and it puts offices and endurances upon one such as +try a man if he has any greatness of spirit about him at all. +This life on which you are entering, said Shame, will cost you many +a blush before you are done with it. You will lay yourself open +to many a scoff. The Puritan religion, and all the ways of that +religious fraternity, are peculiarly open to the shafts of ridicule. +Now, all that was quite true. There was no denying the truth of +what Shame said. And Faithful felt the truth of it all, and felt +it most keenly, as he confessed to Christian. The blood came into +my face as the fellow spake, and what he said for a time almost beat +me out of the upward way altogether. But in this dilemma also +all true Christians can fall back, as Faithful fell back, upon the example +of their Master. In this as in every other experience of temptation +and endurance, our Lord is the forerunner and the example of His people. +Our Lord was in all points tempted like as we are, and among all His +other temptations He was tempted to be ashamed of His work on earth +and of the life and the death His work led Him into. He must have +often felt ashamed at the treatment He received during His life of humiliation, +as it is well called; and He must often have felt ashamed of His disciples: +but all that is blotted out by the crowning shame of the cross. +We hang our worst criminals rather than behead or shoot them, in order +to heap up the utmost possible shame and disgrace upon them, as well +as to execute justice upon them. And what the hangman’s +rope is in our day, all that the cross was in our Lord’s day. +And, then, as if the cross itself was not shame enough, all the circumstances +connected with His cross were planned and carried out so as to heap +the utmost possible shame and humiliation upon His head. Our prison +warders have to watch the murderers in their cells night and day, lest +they should take their own life in order to escape the hangman’s +rope; but our Lord, keenly as He felt His coming shame, said to His +horrified disciples, Behold, we go up to Jerusalem, when the Son of +Man shall be mocked, and spitefully entreated, and spitted on; and they +shall scourge Him and put Him to death. Do you ever think of your +Lord in His shame? How they made a fool of Him, as we say. +How they took off His own clothes and put on Him now a red cloak and +now a white; how they put a sword of lath in His hand, and a crown of +thorns on His head; how they bowed the knee before Him, and asked royal +favours from Him; and then how they spat in His face, and struck Him +on the cheek, while the whole house rang with shouts of laughter. +And, then, the last indignity of man, how they stripped Him naked and +lashed His naked and bleeding body to a whipping-post. And how +they wagged their heads and put out their tongues at Him when He was +on the tree, and invited Him to come down and preach to them now, and +they would all become His disciples. Did not Shame say the simple +truth when he warned Faithful that religion had always and from the +beginning made its followers the ridicule of their times?</p> +<p>If you are really going to be a religious man, Shame went on, you +will have to carry about with you a very tender conscience, and a more +unmanly and miserable thing than a tender conscience I cannot conceive. +A tender conscience will cost you something, let me tell you, to keep +it. If nothing else, a tender conscience will all your life long +expose you to the mockery and the contempt of all the brave spirits +of the time. That also is true. At any rate, a tender conscience +will undoubtedly compel its possessor to face the brave spirits of the +time. There is a good story told to this present point about Sir +Robert Peel, a Prime Minister of our Queen. When a young man, +Peel was one of the guests at a select dinner-party in the West-end +of London. And after the ladies had left the table the conversation +of the gentlemen took a turn such that it could not have taken as long +as the ladies were present. Peel took no share in the stories +or the merriment that went on, and, at last, he rose up and ordered +his carriage, and, with a burning face, left the room. When he +was challenged as to why he had broken up the pleasant party so soon, +he could only reply that his conscience would not let him stay any longer. +No doubt Peel felt the mocking laughter that he left behind him, but, +as Shame said to Faithful, the tenderness of the young statesman’s +conscience compelled him to do as he did. But we are not all Peels. +And there are plenty of workshops and offices and dinner-tables in our +own city, where young men who would walk up to the cannon’s mouth +without flinching have not had Peel’s courage to protest against +indecency or to confess that they belonged to an evangelical church. +If a church is only sufficiently unevangelical there is no trial of +conscience or of courage in confessing that you belong to it. +But as Shame so ably and honestly said, that type of religion that creates +a tender conscience in its followers, and sets them to watch their words +and their ways, and makes them tie themselves up from all hectoring +liberty—to choose that religion, and to cleave to it to the end, +will make a young man the ridicule still of all the brave spirits round +about him. Ambitious young men get promotion and reward every +day among us for desertions and apostasies in religion, for which, if +they had been guilty of the like in war, they would have been shot. +‘And so you are a Free Churchman, I am told.’ That +was all that was said. But the sharp youth understood without +any more words, and he made his choice accordingly; till it is becoming +a positive surprise to find the rising members of certain professions +in certain churches. The Quakers have a proverb in England that +a family carriage never drives for two generations past the parish church +door. Of which state of matters Shame showed himself a shrewd +prophet two hundred years ago when he said that but few of the rich +and the mighty and the wise remained long of Faithful’s Puritan +opinion unless they were first persuaded to be fools, and to be of a +voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all.</p> +<p>And I will tell you two other things, said sharp-sighted and plain-spoken +Shame, that your present religion will compel you to do if you adhere +to it. It will compel you from time to time to ask your neighbour’s +forgiveness even for petty faults, and it will insist with you that +you make restitution when you have done the weak and the friendless +any hurt or any wrong. And every manly mind will tell you that +life is not worth having on such humbling terms as those are. +Whatever may be thought about Shame in other respects, it cannot be +denied that he had a sharp eye for the facts of life, and a shrewd tongue +in setting those facts forth. He has hit the blot exactly in the +matter of our first duty to our neighbour; he has put his finger on +one of the matters where so many of us, through a false shame, come +short. It costs us a tremendous struggle with our pride to go +to our neighbour and to ask his forgiveness for a fault, petty fault +or other. Did you ever do it? When did you do it last, to +whom, and for what? One Sabbath morning, now many years ago, I +had occasion to urge this elementary evangelical duty on my people here, +and I did it as plainly as I could. Next day one of my young men, +who is now a devoted and honoured elder, came to me and told me that +he had done that morning what his conscience yesterday told him in the +church to do. He had gone to a neighbour’s place of business, +had asked for an interview, and had begged his neighbour’s pardon. +I am sure neither of those two men have forgotten that moment, and the +thought of it has often since nerved me to speak plainly about some +of their most unwelcome duties to my people. Shame, no doubt, +pulled back my noble friend’s hand when it was on the office bell, +but, like Faithful in the text, he shook him out of his company and +went in. I spoke of the remarkable justice of the newspaper press +in the opening of these remarks. And it so happens that, as I +lay down my pen to rest my hand after writing this sentence and lift +a London evening paper, I read this editorial note, set within the well-known +brackets at the end of an indignant and expostulatory letter: [‘Our +correspondent’s complaint is just. The paragraph imputing +bad motives should not have been admitted.’] I have no doubt +that editor felt some shame as he handed that apologetic note to the +printer. But not to speak of any other recognition and recompense, +he has the recompense of the recognition of all honourable-minded men +who have read that honourable admission and apology.</p> +<p>Shame was quite right in his scoff about restitution also. +For restitution rings like a trumpet tone through the whole of the law +of Moses, and then the New Testament republishes that law if only in +the exquisite story of Zaccheus. And, indeed, take it altogether, +I do not know where to find in the same space a finer vindication of +Puritan pulpit ethics than just in this taunting and terrifying attack +on Faithful. There is no better test of true religion both as +it is preached and practised than just to ask for and to grant forgiveness, +and to offer and accept restitution. Now, does your public and +private life defend and adorn your minister’s pulpit in these +two so practical matters? Could your minister point to you as +a proof of the ethics of evangelical teaching? Can any one in +this city speak up in defence of your church and thus protest: ‘Say +what you like about that church and its ministers, all I can say is, +that its members know how to make an apology; as, also, how to pay back +with interest what they at one time damaged or defrauded’? +Can any old creditor’s widow or orphan stand up for our doctrine +and defend our discipline pointing to you? If you go on to be +a Puritan, said Shame to Faithful, you will have to ask your neighbour’s +forgiveness even for petty faults, and you will have to make restitution +with usury where you have taken anything from any one, and how will +you like that?</p> +<p>And what did you say to all this, my brother? Say? I +could not tell what to say at the first. I felt my blood coming +up into my face at some of the things that Shame said and threatened. +But, at last, I began to consider that that which is highly esteemed +among men is often had in abomination with God. And I said to +myself again, Shame tells me what men do and what men think, but he +has told me nothing about what He thinks with Whom I shall soon have +alone to do. Therefore, thought I, what God thinks and says is +wisest and best, let all the men of the world say what they will. +Let all false shame, then, depart from my heart, for how else shall +I look upon my Lord, and how shall He look upon me at His coming?</p> +<h2>TALKATIVE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘A man full of talk.’—Zophar.</p> +<p>‘Let thy words be few.’—The Preacher.</p> +<p>‘The soul of religion is the practick part.’—Christian.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Since we all have a tongue, and since so much of our time is taken +up with talk, a simple catalogue of the sins of the tongue is enough +to terrify us. The sins of the tongue take up a much larger space +in the Bible than we would believe till we have begun to suffer from +other men’s tongues and especially from our own. The Bible +speaks a great deal more and a great deal plainer about the sins of +the tongue than any of our pulpits dare to do. In the Psalms alone +you would think that the psalmists scarcely suffer from anything else +worth speaking about but the evil tongues of their friends and of their +enemies. The Book of Proverbs also is full of the same lashing +scourge. And James the Just, in a passage of terrible truth and +power, tells us that we are already as good as perfect men if we can +bridle our tongue; and that, on the other hand, if we do not bridle +our tongue, all our seeming to be religious is a sham and a self-deception,—that +man’s religion is vain.</p> +<p>With many men and many women great talkativeness is a matter of simple +temperament and mental constitution. And a talkative habit would +be a childlike and an innocent habit if the heart of talker and the +hearts of those to whom he talks so much were only full of truth and +love. But our hearts and our neighbours’ hearts being what +they are, in the multitude of words there wanteth not sin. So +much of our talk is about our absent neighbours, and there are so many +misunderstandings, prejudices, ambitions, competitions, oppositions, +and all kinds of cross-interests between us and our absent neighbours, +that we cannot long talk about them till our hearts have run our tongues +into all manner of trespass. Bishop Butler discourses on the great +dangers that beset a talkative temperament with almost more than all +his usual sagacity, seriousness, and depth. And those who care +to see how the greatest of our modern moralists deals with their besetting +sin should lose no time in possessing and mastering Butler’s great +discourse. It is a truly golden discourse, and it ought to be +read at least once a month by all the men and all the women who have +tongues in their heads. Bishop Butler points out to his offending +readers, in a way they can never forget, the certain mischief they do +to themselves and to other people just by talking too much. But +there are far worse sins that our tongues fall into than the bad enough +sins that spring out of impertinent and unrestrained loquacity. +There are many times when our talk, long or short, is already simple +and downright evil. It is ten to one, it is a hundred to one, +that you do not know and would not believe how much you fall every day +and in every conversation into one or other of the sins of the tongue. +If you would only begin to see and accept this, that every time you +speak or hear about your absent neighbour what you would not like him +to speak or hear about you, you are in that a talebearer, a slanderer, +a backbiter, or a liar,—when you begin to see and admit that about +yourself, you will not wonder at what the Bible says with such bitter +indignation about the diabolical sins of the tongue. If you would +just begin to-night to watch yourselves—on the way home from church, +at home after the day is over, to-morrow morning when the letters and +the papers are opened, and so on,—how instinctively, incessantly, +irrepressibly you speak about the absent in a way you would be astounded +and horrified to be told they were at that moment speaking about you, +then you would soon be wiser than all your teachers in the sins and +in the government of the tongue. And you would seven times every +day pluck out your tongue before God till He gives it back to you clean +and kind in that land where all men shall love their neighbours, present +and absent, as themselves.</p> +<p>Take detraction for an example, one of the commonest, and, surely, +one of the most detestable of the sins of the tongue. And the +etymology here, as in this whole region, is most instructive and most +impressive. In detraction you <i>draw away</i> something from +your neighbour that is most precious and most dear to him. In +detraction you are a thief, and a thief of the falsest and wickedest +kind. For your neighbour’s purse is trash, while his good +name is far more precious to him than all his gold. Some one praises +your neighbour in your hearing, his talents, his performances, his character, +his motives, or something else that belongs to your neighbour. +Some one does that in your hearing who either does not know you, or +who wishes to torture and expose you, and you fall straight into the +snare thus set for you, and begin at once to belittle, depreciate, detract +from, and run down your neighbour, who has been too much praised for +your peace of mind and your self-control. You insinuate something +to his disadvantage and dishonour. You quote some authority you +have heard to his hurt. And so on past all our power to picture +you. For detraction has a thousand devices taught to it by the +master of all such devices, wherewith to drag down and defile the great +and the good. But with all you can say or do, you cannot for many +days get out of your mind the heart-poisoning praise you heard spoken +of your envied neighbour. Never praise any potter’s pots +in the hearing of another potter, said the author of the <i>Nicomachean +Ethics</i>. Aristotle said potter’s pots, but he really +all the time was thinking of a philosopher’s books; only he said +potter’s pots to draw off his readers’ attention from himself. +Now, always remember that ancient and wise advice. Take care how +you praise a potter’s pots, a philosopher’s books, a woman’s +beauty, a speaker’s speech, a preacher’s sermon to another +potter, philosopher, woman, speaker, or preacher; unless, indeed, you +maliciously wish secretly to torture them, or publicly to expose them, +or, if their sanctification is begun, to sanctify them to their most +inward and spiritual sanctification.</p> +<p>Backbiting, again, would seem at first sight to be a sin of the teeth +rather than of the tongue, only, no sharpest tooth can tear you when +your back is turned like your neighbour’s evil tongue. Pascal +has many dreadful things about the corruption and misery of man, but +he has nothing that strikes its terrible barb deeper into all our consciences +than this, that if all our friends only knew what we have said about +them behind their back, we would not have four friends in all the world. +Neither we would. I know I would not have one. How many +would you have? And who would they be? You cannot name them. +I defy you to name them. They do not exist. The tongue can +no man tame.</p> +<p>‘Giving of characters’ also takes up a large part of +our everyday conversation. We cannot well help characterising, +describing, and estimating one another. But, as far as possible, +when we see the conversation again approaching that dangerous subject, +we should call to mind our past remorse; we should suppose our absent +neighbour present; we should imagine him in our place and ourselves +in his place, and so turn the rising talk into another channel. +For, the truth is, few of us are able to do justice to our neighbour +when we begin to discuss and describe him. Generosity in our talk +is far easier for us than justice. It was this incessant giving +of characters that our Lord had in His eye when He said in His Sermon +on the Mount, Judge not. But our Lord might as well never have +uttered that warning word for all the attention we give it. For +we go on judging one another and sentencing one another as if we were +entirely and in all things blameless ourselves, and as if God had set +us up in our blamelessness in His seat of judgment over all our fellows. +How seldom do we hear any one say in a public debate or in a private +conversation, I don’t know; or, It is no matter of mine; or, I +feel that I am not in possession of all the facts; or, It may be so, +but I must not judge. We never hear such things as these said. +No one pays the least attention to the Preacher on the Mount. +And if any one says to us, I must not judge, we never forgive him, because +his humility and his obedience so condemn all our ill-formed, prejudiced, +rash, and ill-natured judgments of our neighbour. Since, therefore, +so Butler sums up, it is so hard for us to enter on our neighbour’s +character without offending the law of Christ, we should learn to decline +that kind of conversation altogether, and determine to get over that +strong inclination most of us have, to be continually talking about +the concerns, the behaviour, and the deserts of our neighbours.</p> +<p>Now, it was all those vices of the tongue in full outbreak in the +day of James the Just that made that apostle, half in sorrow, half in +anger, demand of all his readers that they should henceforth begin to +bridle their tongues. And, like all that most practical apostle’s +counsels, that is a most impressive and memorable commandment. +For, it is well known that all sane men who either ride on or drive +unruly horses, take good care to bridle their horses well before they +bring them out of their stable door. And then they keep their +bridle-hand firm closed on the bridle-rein till their horses are back +in the stable again. Especially and particularly they keep a close +eye and a firm hand on their horse’s bridle on all steep inclines +and at all sharp angles and sudden turns in the road; when sudden trains +are passing and when stray dogs are barking. If the rider or the +driver of a horse did not look at nothing else but the bridle of his +horse, both he and his horse under him would soon be in the ditch,—as +so many of us are at the present moment because we have an untamed tongue +in our mouth on which we have not yet begun to put the bridle of truth +and justice and brotherly love. Indeed, such woe and misery has +an untamed tongue wrought in other churches and in other and more serious +ages than ours, that special religious brotherhoods have been banded +together just on the special and strict engagement that they would above +all things put a bridle on their tongues. ‘What are the +chief cares of a young convert?’ asked such a convert at an aged +Carthusian. ‘I said I will take heed to my ways that I trespass +not with my tongue,’ replied the saintly father. ‘Say +no more for the present,’ interrupted the youthful beginner; ‘I +will go home and practise that, and will come again when I have performed +it.’</p> +<p>Now, whatever faults that tall man had who took up so much of Faithful’s +time and attention, he was a saint compared with the men and the women +who have just passed before us. Talkative, as John Bunyan so scornfully +names that tall man, though he undoubtedly takes up too much time and +too much space in Bunyan’s book, was not a busybody in other men’s +matters at any rate. Nobody could call him a detractor or a backbiter +or a talebearer or a liar. Christian knew him well, and had known +him long, but Christian was not afraid to leave him alone with Faithful. +We all know men we feel it unsafe to leave long alone with our friends. +We feel sure that they will be talking about us, and that to our hurt, +as soon as our backs are about. But to give that tall man his +due, he was not given with all his talk to tale-bearing or scandal or +detraction. Had he been guilty of any of these things, Faithful +would soon have found him out, and would have left him to go to the +Celestial City by himself. But, after talking for half a day with +Talkative, instead of finding out anything wrong in the tall man’s +talk, Faithful was so taken and so struck with it, that he stepped across +to Christian and said, ‘What a brave companion we have got! +Surely this man will make a most excellent pilgrim!’ ‘So +I once thought too,’ said Christian, ‘till I went to live +beside him, and have to do with him in the business of daily life.’ +Yes, it is near neighbourhood and the business of everyday life that +try a talking man. If you go to a meeting for prayer, and hear +some men praying and speaking on religious subjects, you would say to +yourself, What a good man that is, and how happy must his wife and children +and servants and neighbours be with such an example always before them, +and with such an intercessor for them always with God! But if +you were to go home with that so devotional man, and try to do business +with him, and were compelled to cross him and go against him, you would +find out why Christian smiled so when Faithful was so full of Talkative’s +praises.</p> +<p>But of all the religiously-loquacious men of our day, your ministers +are the chief. For your ministers must talk in public, and that +often and at great length, whether they are truly religious men at home +or no. It is their calling to talk to you unceasingly about religious +matters. You chose them to be your ministers because they could +talk well. You would not put up with a minister who could not +talk well on religious things. You estimate them by their talk. +You praise and pay them by their talk. And if they are to live, +talk incessantly to you about religion they must, and they do. +If any other man among us is not a religious man, well, then, he can +at least hold his tongue. There is no necessity laid on him to +speak in public about things that he does not practise at home. +But we hard-bested ministers must go on speaking continually about the +most solemn things. And if we are not extraordinarily watchful +over ourselves, and extraordinarily and increasingly conscientious, +if we are not steadily growing in inwardness and insight and depth and +real spirituality of mind and life ourselves, we cannot escape,—our +calling in life will not let us escape,—becoming as sounding brass. +There is an awful sentence in Butler that should be written in letters +of fire in every minister’s conscience, to the effect that continually +going over religion in talk and making fine pictures of it in the pulpit, +creates a professional insensibility to personal religion that is the +everlasting ruin of multitudes of eloquent ministers. That is +true. We ministers all feel that to be true. Our miserable +experience tells us that is only too true of ourselves. What a +flood of demoralising talk has been poured out from the pulpits of this +one city to-day!—demoralising to preachers and to hearers both, +because not intended to be put in practice. How few of those who +have talked and heard talk all this day about divine truth and human +duty, have made the least beginning or the least resolve to live as +they have spoken and heard! And, yet, all will in words again +admit that the soul of religion is the practick part, and that the tongue +without the heart and the life is but death and corruption.</p> +<p>Let us, then, this very night begin to do something practical after +all this talk about talk. And let us all begin to do something +in the direct line of our present talk. What a noble congregation +of evangelical Carthusians that would make us if we all put a bridle +on our tongue to-night before we left this house. For we all have +neighbours, friends, enemies, against whom we every day sin with our +unbridled tongue. We all have acquaintances we are ashamed to +meet, we have been so unkind and so unjust to them with our tongue. +We hang down our head when they shake our hand. Yes, we know the +men quite well of whom Pascal speaks. We know many men who would +never speak to us again if they only knew how, and how often, we have +spoken about them behind their back. Well, let us sin against +them, and against ourselves, and against our Master’s command +and example no more. Let this night and this lecture on Talkative +and his kindred see the last of our sin against our ill-used neighbour. +Let us promise God and our own consciences to-night, that we shall all +this week put on a bridle about that man, and about that subject, and +in that place, and in that company. Let us say, God helping me, +I shall for all this week not speak about that man at all, anything +either good or bad, nor on that subject, nor will I let the conversation +turn into that channel at all if I can help it. And God will surely +help us, till, after weeks and years of such prayer and such practice, +we shall by slow degrees, and after many defeats, be able to say with +the Psalmist, ‘I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with +my tongue. I will keep my mouth with a bridle. I will be +dumb with silence. I will hold my peace even from good.’</p> +<h2>JUDGE HATE-GOOD</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Hear, O heads of Jacob, and ye princes of the +house of Israel . . . who hate the good and love the evil.’—Micah.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The portrait of Judge Hate-good in <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i> +is but a poor replica, as our artists say, of the portrait of Judge +Jeffreys in our English history books. I am sure you have often +read, with astonishment at Bunyan’s literary power, his wonderful +account of the trial of Faithful, when, as Bunyan says, he was brought +forth to his trial in order to his condemnation. We have the whole +ecclesiastical jurisprudence of Charles and James Stuart put before +us in that single satirical sentence. But, powerful as Bunyan’s +whole picture of Judge Hate-good’s court is, it is a tame and +a poor picture compared with what all the historians tell us of the +injustice and cruelty of the court of Judge Jeffreys. Macaulay’s +portrait of the Lord Chief Justice of England for ferocity and fiendishness +beats out of sight Bunyan’s picture of that judge who keeps Satan’s +own seal in Bunyan’s Book. Jeffreys was bred for his future +work at the bar of the Old Bailey, a bar already proverbial for the +licence of its tongue and for the coarseness of its cases. Jeffreys +served his apprenticeship for the service that our two last Stuarts +had in reserve for him so well, that he soon became, so his beggared +biographer describes him, the most consummate bully that ever disgraced +an English bench. The boldest impudence when he was a young advocate, +and the most brutal ferocity when he was an old judge, sat equally secure +on the brazen forehead of George Jeffreys. The real and undoubted +ability and scholarship of Jeffreys only made his wickedness the more +awful, and his whole career the greater curse both to those whose tool +he was, and to those whose blood he drank daily. Jeffreys drank +brandy and sang lewd songs all night, and he drank blood and cursed +and swore on the bench all day. Just imagine the state of our +English courts when a judge could thus assail a poor wretch of a woman +after passing a cruel sentence upon her. ‘Hangman,’ +shouted the ermined brute, ‘Hangman, pay particular attention +to this lady. Scourge her soundly, man. Scourge her till +the blood runs. It is the Christmas season; a cold season for +madam to strip in. See, therefore, man, that you warm her shoulders +thoroughly.’ And you all know who Richard Baxter was. +You have all read his seraphic book, <i>The Saints’ Rest</i>. +Well, besides being the Richard Baxter so well known to our saintly +fathers and mothers, he was also, and he was emphatically, the peace-maker +of the Puritan party. Baxter’s political principles were +of the most temperate and conciliatory, and indeed, almost royalist +kind. He was a man of strong passions, indeed, but all the strength +and heat of his passions ran out into his hatred of sin and his love +of holiness, and an unsparing and consuming care for the souls of his +people. Very Faithful himself stood before the bar of Judge Jeffreys +in the person of Richard Baxter. It took all the barefaced falsehood +and scandalous injustice of the crown prosecutors to draw out the sham +indictment that was read out in court against inoffensive Richard Baxter. +But what was lacking in the charge of the crown was soon made up by +the abominable scurrility of the judge. ‘You are a schismatical +knave,’ roared out Jeffreys, as soon as Baxter was brought into +court. ‘You are an old hypocritical villain.’ +And then, clasping his hands and turning up his eyes, he sang through +his nose: ‘O Lord, we are Thy peculiar people: we are Thy dear +and only people.’ ‘You old blockhead,’ he again +roared out, ‘I will have you whipped through the city at the tail +of the cart. By the grace of God I will look after you, Richard.’ +And the tiger would have been as good as his word had not an overpowering +sense of shame compelled the other judges to protest and get Baxter’s +inhuman sentence commuted to fine and imprisonment. And so on, +and so on. But it was Jeffreys’ ‘Western Circuit,’ +as it was called, that filled up the cup of his infamy—an infamy, +say the historians, that will last as long as the language and the history +of England last. The only parallel to it is the infamy of a royal +house and a royal court that could welcome home and promote to honour +such a detestable miscreant as Jeffreys was. But the slaughter +in Somerset was only over in order that a similar slaughter in London +might begin. Let those who have a stomach for more blood and tears +follow out the hell upon earth that James Stuart and George Jeffreys +together let loose on the best life of England in their now fast-shortening +day. Was Judge Jeffreys, some of you will ask me, born and bred +in hell? Was the devil his father, and original sin his mother? +Or, was he not the very devil himself come to earth for a season in +English flesh? No, my brethren, not so. Judge Jeffreys was +one of ourselves. Little George Jeffreys was born and brought +up in a happy English home. He was baptised and confirmed in an +English church. He took honours in an English university. +He ate dinners, was called to the bar, conducted cases, and took silk +in an English court of justice. And in the ripeness of his years +and of his services, he wore the honourable ermine and sat upon the +envied wool-sack of an English sovereign. It would have been far +less awful and far less alarming to think of, had Judge Jeffreys been, +as you supposed, a pure devil let loose on the Church of Christ and +the awakening liberty of England. But some innocent soul will +ask me next whether there has ever been any other monster on the face +of the earth like Judge Jeffreys; and whether by any possibility there +are any such monsters anywhere in our own day. Yes, truth compels +me to reply. Yes, there are, plenty, too many. Only their +environment, nowadays, as our naturalists say, does not permit them +to grow to such strength and dimensions as those of James Stuart, and +George Jeffreys, his favourite judge. At the same time, be not +deceived by your own deceitful heart, nor by any other deceiver’s +smooth speeches. Judge Jeffreys is in yourself, only circumstances +have not yet let him fully show himself in you. Still, if you +look close enough and deep enough into your own hearts, you will see +the same wicked light glancing sometimes there that used so to terrify +Judge Jeffreys’ prisoners when they saw it in his wicked eyes. +If you lay your ear close enough to your own heart, you will sometimes +hear something of that same hiss with which that human serpent sentenced +to torture and to death the men and the women who would not submit to +his command. The same savage laughter also will sometimes all +but escape your lips as you think of how your enemy has been made to +suffer in body and in estate. O yes, the very same hell-broth +that ran for blood in Judge Jeffreys’ heart is in all our hearts +also; and those who have the least of its poison left in their hearts +will be the foremost to confess its presence, and to hate and condemn +and bewail themselves on account of its terrible dregs.</p> +<p>HATE-GOOD is an awful enough name for any human being to bear. +Those who really know what goodness is, and then, what hatred is,—they +will feel how awful a thing it is for any man to hate goodness. +But there is something among us sinful men far more awful than even +that, and that is to hate God. The carnal mind, writes the apostle +Paul to the Romans—and it is surely the most terrible sentence +that often terrible enough apostle ever wrote—the carnal mind +is enmity against God. And Dr. John Owen annotating on that sentence +is equally terrible. The carnal mind, he says, has ‘chosen +a great enemy indeed.’ And having mentioned John Owen, will +you let me once more beseech all students of divinity, that is, all +students, amongst other things, of the desperate depravity of the human +heart, to read John Owen’s sixth volume till they have it by heart,—by +a broken, believing heart. Owen <i>On Indwelling Sin</i> is one +of the greatest works of the great Puritan period. It is a really +great, and as we nowadays say, a truly scientific work to the bargain. +But all that by the way. Yes, this carnal heart that is still +left in every one of us has chosen a great enemy, and it would need +both strong and faithful allies in order to fight him. The hatred +that His Son also met with when He was in this world is one of the most +hateful pages of this hateful world’s hateful history. He +knew His own heart towards His enemies, and thus He was able to say +to the Searcher of Hearts with His dying breath, They hated Me without +a cause. Truly our hatred is hottest when it is most unjust.</p> +<p>‘Look to yourselves,’ wrote the apostle John to the elect +lady and her children. Yes; let us all look sharply and suspiciously +to ourselves in this matter now in hand, and we shall not need John +Owen nor anybody else to discover to us the hatred and the hatefulness +of our own hearts. Look to yourselves, and the work of the law +will soon be fulfilled in you. <i>Homo homini lupus</i>, taught +an old philosopher who had studied moral philosophy not in books so +much as in his own heart. ‘Is no man naturally good?’ +asked innocent Lady Macleod of Dunvegan Castle at her guest, Dr. Samuel +Johnson. ‘No, madam, no more than a wolf.’ That +is quite past all question with all those who either in natural morals +or in revealed religion look to and know and characterise themselves. +We have all an inborn propensity to dislike one another, and a very +small provocation will suddenly blow that banked-up furnace into a flame. +It is ever present with me, says self-examining Paul, and hence its +so sudden and so destructive outbreaks. So the written or the +printed name of our enemy, his image in our mind, his passing step, +his figure out of the window; his wife, his child, his carriage, his +cart in the street, anything, everything will stir up our heart at the +man we do not like. And the whole of our so honest Bible, our +present text, and the illustrations of our text in Judge Jeffreys’ +and Judge Hate-good’s courts, all go to show that the better a +man is the more sometimes will we hate him. Good men, better men +than we are, men who in public life and in private life pursue great +and good ends, of necessity cross and go counter to us in our pursuit +of small, selfish, evil ends, and of necessity we hate them. For, +cross a selfish sinner sufficiently and you have a very devil—as +many good men, if they knew it, have in us. Again, good men who +come into contact with us cannot help seeing our bad lives, our tempers, +our selfishness, our public and private vices; and we see that they +see us, and we cannot love those whose averted eye so goes to our conscience. +And not only in the hatred of good men, but if you know of God how to +watch yourselves, you will find yourselves out every day also in the +hatred of good movements, good causes, good institutions, and good works. +There are doctors who would far rather hear of their rival’s patient +expiring in his hands than hear their rival’s success trumpeted +through all the town. There are ministers, also, who would rather +that the masses of the city and the country sank yet deeper into improvidence +and drink and neglect of ordinances than that they were rescued by any +other church than their own. They hate to hear of the successes +of another church. There are party politicians who would rather +that the ship of the state ran on the rocks both in her home and her +foreign policy than that the opposite party should steer her amid a +nation’s cheers into harbour. And so of good news. +I will stake the divine truth of this evening’s Scriptures, and +of their historical and imaginative illustrations, on the feelings, +if you know how to observe, detect, characterise, and confess them,—the +feelings, I say, that will rise in your heart to-morrow morning when +you read what is good news to other men, even to good men, and to the +families and family interests of good men. It does not matter +one atom into what profession, office, occupation, interest you track +the corrupt heart of man, as sure as a substance casts a shadow, so +sure will you find your own selfish heart hating goodness when the goodness +does not serve or flatter you.</p> +<p>Now, though they will never be many, yet there must be some men among +us, one here and another there, who have so looked at and found out +themselves. I can well believe that some men here came up to this +house to-night trembling in their heart all the way. They felt +the very advertisement go through them like a knife: they felt that +they were summoned up hither almost by name as to judgment. For +they feel every day, though they have never told their feelings to any, +that they have this horrible heart deep-seated within them to love evil +and to hate good. They gnash their teeth at themselves as they +catch themselves rejoicing in iniquity. They feel their hearts +expanding, and they know that their faces shine, when you tell them +evil tidings. They sicken and lose heart and sit solitary when +you carry to them a good report. They feel as John Bunyan felt, +that no one but the devil can equal them in pollution of heart. +And their wonder sometimes is that the Searcher of Hearts does not drive +them down where devils dwell and hate God and man and one another. +They look around them when the penitential psalm is being sung, and +they smile bitterly to themselves. O people of God, they say, +you do not know what you are saying. Leave that psalm to me. +I can sing it. I can tell to God what He knows about sin, and +about sin in the heart. Stand away back from me, that man says, +for I am a leper. The chief of sinners is beside you. A +whited sepulchre stands open beside you.—Stop now, O hating and +hateful man, and let me speak for a single moment before we separate. +Before you say any more about yourself, and before you leave the house +of God, lift up your broken heart and with all your might bless God +that He has opened your eyes and taught you how to look at yourself +and how to hate yourself. There are hundreds of honest Christian +men and women in this house at this moment to whom God has not done +as, in His free grace, He has done to you. For He has not only +begun a good work in you, but He has begun that special and peculiar +work which, when it goes on to perfection, makes a great and an eminent +saint of God. To know your own heart as you evidently know it, +and to hate it as you say you hate it, and to hunger after a clean heart +as, with every breath, you hunger,—all that, if you would only +believe it, sets you, or will yet set you, high up among the people +of God. Be comforted; it is your bounden duty to be comforted. +God deserves it at your hands that you be more than comforted amid such +unmistakable signs of His eminent grace to you. And be patient +under your exceptional sanctification. Rome was not built in a +day. You cannot reverse the awful law of your sanctification. +You cannot be saved by Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit without seeing +yourself, and you cannot see yourself without hating yourself, and you +cannot begin to hate yourself without all your hatred henceforth turning +against yourself. You are deep in the red-hot bosom of the refiner’s +fire. And when you are once sufficiently tried by the Divine Refiner +of Souls, He will in His own good time and way bring you out as gold. +Be patient, therefore, till the coming of the Lord. And say continually +amid all your increasing knowledge of yourself, and amid all your increasing +hatred of yourself, ‘As for me, I will behold Thy face in righteousness; +I shall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness.’</p> +<h2>FAITHFUL IN VANITY FAIR <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Be thou faithful.’—Rev. 2. 10.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The breadth of John Bunyan’s mind, the largeness of his heart, +and the tolerance of his temper all come excellently out in his fine +portrait of Faithful. New beginners in personal religion, when +they first take up <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i> in earnest, always +try to find out something in themselves that shall somewhat correspond +to the recorded experience of Christian, the chief pilgrim. And +they are afraid that all is not right with them unless they, like him, +have had, to begin with, a heavy burden on their back. They look +for something in their religious life that shall answer to the Slough +of Despond also, to the Hill Difficulty, to the House Beautiful, and, +especially and indispensably, to the place somewhat ascending with a +cross upon it and an open sepulchre beneath it. And because they +cannot always find all these things in themselves in the exact order +and in the full power in which they are told of Christian in Bunyan’s +book, they begin to have doubts about themselves as to whether they +are true pilgrims at all. But here is Faithful, with whom Christian +held such sweet and confidential discourse, and yet he had come through +not a single one of all these things. The two pilgrims had come +from the same City of Destruction indeed, and they had met at the gate +of Vanity and passed through Vanity Fair together, but, till they embraced +one another again in the Celestial City, that was absolutely all the +experience they had in common. Faithful had never had any such +burden on his back as that was which had for so long crushed Christian +to the earth. And the all but complete absence of such a burden +may have helped to let Faithful get over the Slough of Despond dry shod. +He had the good lot to escape Sinai also and the Hill Difficulty, and +his passing by the House Beautiful and not making the acquaintance of +Discretion and Prudence and Charity may have had something to do with +the fact that one named Wanton had like to have done him such a mischief. +His remarkable experiences, however, with Adam the First, with Moses, +and then with the Man with holes in His hands, all that makes up a page +in Faithful’s autobiography we could ill have spared. His +encounter with Shame also, and soon afterwards with Talkative, are classical +passages in his so individual history. Altogether, it would be +almost impossible for us to imagine two pilgrims talking so heartily +together, and yet so completely unlike one another. A very important +lesson surely as to how we should abstain from measuring other men by +ourselves, as well as ourselves by other men; an excellent lesson also +as to how we should learn to allow for all possible varieties among +good men, both in their opinions, their experiences, and their attainments. +True Puritan as the author of <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i> is, +he is no Procrustes. He does not cut down all his pilgrims to +one size, nor does he clip them all into one pattern. They are +all thinking men, but they are not all men of one way of thinking. +John Bunyan is as fresh as Nature herself, and as free and full as Holy +Scripture herself in the variety, in the individuality, and even in +the idiosyncrasy of his spiritual portrait gallery.</p> +<p>Vanity Fair is one of John Bunyan’s universally-admitted masterpieces. +The very name of the fair is one of his happiest strokes. Thackeray’s +famous book owes half its popularity to the happy name he borrowed from +John Bunyan. Thackeray’s author’s heart must have +leaped in his bosom when Vanity Fair struck him as a title for his great +satire. ‘Then I saw in my dream that when they were got +out of the wilderness they presently saw a town before them, and the +name of that town is Vanity, and at that town there is a fair kept called +Vanity Fair. The fair is kept all the year long, and it beareth +the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where it is kept is lighter +than Vanity. And, also, because all that is sold there is vanity. +As is the saying of the wise, All that cometh is vanity. The fair +is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient standing: I will +show you the original of it. About five thousand years ago there +were pilgrims walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest persons +now are, and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with their companions, +perceiving that by the path that the pilgrims made, that their way to +the city lay through this town of Vanity, they contrived there to set +up a fair: a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that +it should last all the year long. Therefore at this fair are all +such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, honours, preferments, +titles, countries, kingdoms, pleasures, and delights of all sorts, as +wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bodies, +souls, silver, gold, precious stones, and what not. And, moreover, +at this fair at all times there is to be seen juggling, cheats, games, +plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of every kind.’ +And then our author goes on to tell us the names of the various streets +and rows where such and such wares are vended. And from that again +he goes on to tell how the Prince of princes Himself went at one time +through this same fair, and that upon a fair day too, and how the lord +of the fair himself came and took Him from street to street to try to +get Him induced to cheapen and buy some of the vain merchandise. +But as it turned out He had no mind to the merchandise in question, +and He therefore passed through the town without laying out so much +as one farthing upon its vanities. The fair, therefore, you will +see, is of long standing and a very great fair. Now, our two pilgrims +had heard of all that, they remembered also what Evangelist had told +them about the fair, and so they buttoned up their pockets and pushed +through the booths in the hope of getting out at the upper gate before +any one had time to speak to them. But that was not possible, +for they were soon set upon by the men of the fair, who cried after +them: ‘Hail, strangers, look here, what will you buy?’ +‘We buy the truth only,’ said Faithful, ‘and we do +not see any of that article of merchandise set out on any of your stalls.’ +And from that began a hubbub that ended in a riot, and the riot in the +apprehension and shutting up in a public cage of the two innocent pilgrims. +Lord Hate-good was the judge on the bench of Vanity in the day of their +trial, and the three witnesses who appeared in the witness-box against +the two prisoners were Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. The +twelve jurymen who sat on their case were Mr. Blindman, Mr. No-good, +Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, +Mr. Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and Mr. Implacable,—Mr. +Blindman to be the foreman. And it was before these men that Faithful +was brought forth to his trial in order to his condemnation. And +very soon after his trial Faithful came to his end. ‘Now +I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of +horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had despatched +him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the +clouds, with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to the Celestial gate.’</p> +<p>Now, I cannot tell you how it was, I cannot account for it to myself, +but it is nevertheless absolutely true that as I was reading my author +last week and was meditating my present exposition, it came somehow +into my mind, and I could not get it out of my mind, that there is a +great and a close similarity between John Bunyan’s Vanity Fair +and a general election. And, all I could do to keep the whole +thing out of my mind, one similarity after another would leap up into +my mind and would not be put out of it. I protest that I did not +go out to seek for such similarities, but the more I frowned on them +the thicker they came. And then the further question arose as +to whether I should write them down or no; and then much more, as to +whether I should set them out before my people or no. As you will +easily believe, I was immediately in a real strait as to what I should +do. I saw on the one side what would be sure to be said by ill-natured +people and people of a hasty judgment. And I saw with much more +anxiety what would be felt even when they restrained themselves from +saying it by timid and cautious and scrupulous people. I had the +full fear of all such judges before my eyes; but, somehow, something +kept this before my eyes also, that, as Evangelist met the two pilgrims +just as they were entering the fair, so, for anything I knew to the +contrary, it might be of God, that I also, in my own way, should warn +my people of the real and special danger that their souls will be in +for the next fortnight. And as I thought of it a procession of +people passed before me all bearing to this day the stains and scars +they had taken on their hearts and their lives and their characters +at former general elections. And, like Evangelist, I felt a divine +desire taking possession of me to do all I could to pull my people out +of gunshot of the devil at this election. And, then, when I read +again how both the pilgrims thanked Evangelist for his exhortation, +and told him withal that they would have him speak further to them about +the dangers of the way, I said at last to myself, that the thanks of +one true Christian saved in anything and in any measure from the gun +of the devil are far more to be attended to by a minister than the blame +and the neglect of a hundred who do not know their hour of temptation +and will not be told it. And so I took my pen and set down some +similarities between Vanity Fair and the approaching election, with +some lessons to those who are not altogether beyond being taught.</p> +<p>Well, then, in the first place, the only way to the Celestial City +ran through Vanity Fair; by no possibility could the advancing pilgrims +escape the temptations and the dangers of the fatal fair. He that +will go to the Celestial City and yet not go through Vanity Fair must +needs go out of the world. And so it is with the temptations and +trials of the next ten days. We cannot get past them. They +are laid down right across our way. And to many men now in this +house the next ten days will be a time of simply terrible temptation. +If I had been quite sure that all my people saw that and felt that, +I would not have introduced here to-night what some of them, judging +too hastily, will certainly call this so secular and unseemly subject. +But I am so afraid that many not untrue, and in other things most earnest +men amongst us, do not yet know sufficiently the weakness and the evil +of their own hearts, that I wish much, if they will allow me, to put +them on their guard. ‘’Tis hard,’ said Contrite, +who was a householder and had a vote in the town of Vanity, ‘’tis +hard keeping our hearts and our spirits in any good order when we are +in a cumbered condition. And you may be sure that we are full +of hurry at fair-time. He that lives in such a place as this is, +and that has to do with such as we have to do with, has need of an item +to caution him to take heed every hour of the day.’ Now, +if all my people, and all this day’s communicants, were only contrite +enough, I would leave them to the hurry of the approaching election +with much more comfort. But as it is, I wish to give them such +an item as I am able to caution them for the next ten days. Let +them know, then, that their way for the next fortnight lies, I will +not say through a fair of jugglings and cheatings, carried on by apes +and knaves, but, to speak without figure, their way certainly lies through +what will be to many of them a season of the greatest temptation to +the very worst of all possible sins—to anger and bitterness and +ill-will; to no end of evil-thinking and evil-speaking; to the breaking +up of lifelong friendships; and to widespread and lasting damage to +the cause of Christ, which is the cause of truth and love, meekness +and a heavenly mind. Now, amid all that, as Evangelist said to +the two pilgrims, look well to your own hearts. Let none of all +these evil things enter your heart from the outside, and let none of +all these evil things come out of your hearts from the inside. +Set your faces like a flint from the beginning against all evil-speaking +and evil-thinking. Let your own election to the kingdom of heaven +be always before you, and walk worthy of it; and amid all the hurry +of things seen and temporal, believe steadfastly concerning the things +that are eternal, and walk worthy of them.</p> +<p>‘We buy the truth and we sell it not again for anything,’ +was the reply of the two pilgrims to every stall-keeper as they passed +up the fair, and this it was that made them to be so hated and hunted +down by the men of the fair. And, in like manner, there is nothing +more difficult to get hold of at an election time than just the very +truth. All the truth on any question is not very likely to be +found put forward in the programme of any man or any party, and, even +if it were, a general election is not the best time for you to find +it out. ‘I design the search after truth to be the one business +of my life,’ wrote the future Bishop Butler at the age of twenty-one. +And whether you are to be a member of Parliament or a silent voter for +a member of Parliament, you, too, must love truth and search for her +as for hid treasure from your youth up. You must search for all +kinds of truth,—historical, political, scientific, and religious,—with +much reading, much observation, and much reflection. And those +who have searched longest and dug deepest will always be found to be +the most temperate, patient, and forbearing with those who have not +yet found the truth. I do not know who first said it, but he was +a true disciple of Socrates and Plato who first said it. ‘Plato,’ +he said, ‘is my friend, and Socrates is my friend, but the truth +is much more my friend.’ There is a thrill of enthusiasm, +admiration and hope that goes through the whole country and comes down +out of history as often as we hear or read of some public man parting +with all his own past, as well as with all his leaders and patrons and +allies and colleagues in the present, and taking his solitary way out +after the truth. Many may call that man Quixotic, visionary, unpractical, +imprudent, and he may be all that and more, but to follow conscience +and the love of truth even when they are for the time leading him wrong +is noble, and is every way far better both for himself and for the cause +he serves, than if he were always found following his leaders loyally +and even walking in the way of righteousness with the love of self and +the love of party at bottom ruling his heart. How healthful and +how refreshing at an election time it is to hear a speech replete with +the love of the truth, full knowledge of the subject, and with the dignity, +the good temper, the respect for opponents, and the love of fair play +that full knowledge of the whole subject is so well fitted to bring +with it! And next to hearing such a speaker is the pleasure of +meeting such a hearer or such a reader at such a time. Now, I +want such readers and such hearers, if not such speakers, to be found +all the next fortnight among my office-bearers and my people. +Be sure you say to some of your political opponents something like this:—‘I +do not profess to read all the speeches that fill the papers at present. +I do not read all the utterances made even on my own side, and much +less all the utterances made on your side. But there is one of +your speakers I always read, and I almost always find him instructive +and impressive, a gentleman, if not a Christian. He is fair, temperate, +frank, bold, and independent; and, to my mind at least, he always throws +light on these so perplexing questions.’ Now, if you have +the intelligence and the integrity and the fair-mindedness to say something +like that to a member of the opposite party you have poured oil on the +waters of party; nay, you are in that a wily politician, for you have +almost, just in saying that, won over your friend to your own side. +So noble is the love of truth, and so potent is the high-principled +pursuit and the fearless proclamation of the truth.</p> +<p>A general election is a trying time to all kinds of public men, but +it is perhaps most trying of all to Christian ministers. Unless +they are to disfranchise themselves and are to detach and shut themselves +in from all interest in public affairs altogether, an election time +is to our ministers, beyond any other class of citizens perhaps, a peculiarly +trying time. How they are to escape the Scylla of cowardice and +the contempt of all free and true men on the one hand, and the Charybdis +of pride and self-will and scorn of other men’s opinions and wishes +on the other, is no easy dilemma to our ministers. Some happily +constituted and happily circumstanced ministers manage to get through +life, and even through political life, without taking or giving a wound +in all their way. They are so wise and so watchful; they are so +inoffensive, unprovoking, and conciliatory; and even where they are +not always all that, they have around them sometimes a people who are +so patient and tolerant and full of the old-fashioned respect for their +minister that they do not attempt to interfere with him. Then, +again, some ministers preach so well, and perform all their pastoral +work so well, that they make it unsafe and impossible for the most censorious +and intolerant of their people to find fault with them. But all +our ministers are not like that. And all our congregations are +not like that. And those of our ministers who are not like that +must just be left to bear that which their past unwisdom or misfortune +has brought upon them. Only, if they have profited by their past +mistakes or misfortunes, a means of grace, and an opportunity of better +playing the man is again at their doors. I am sure you will all +join with me in the prayer that all our ministers, as well as all their +people, may come well out of the approaching election.</p> +<p>There is yet one other class of public men, if I may call them so, +many of whom come almost worse out of an election time than even our +ministers, and that class is composed of those, who, to continue the +language of Vanity Fair, keep the cages of the fair. I wish I +had to-night, what I have not, the ear of the conductors of our public +journals. For, what an omnipotence in God’s providence to +this generation for good or evil is theirs! If they would only +all consider well at election times, and at all times, who they put +into their cages and for what reason; if they would only all ask what +can that man’s motives be for throwing such dirt at his neighbour; +if they would only all set aside all the letters they will get during +the next fortnight that are avowedly composed on the old principle of +calumniating boldly in the certainty that some of it will stick, what +a service they would do to the cause of love and truth and justice, +which is, surely, after all, their own cause also! The very best +papers sin sadly in this respect when their conductors are full for +the time of party passion. And it is inexpressibly sad when a +reader sees great journals to which he owes a lifelong debt of gratitude +absolutely poisoned under his very eyes with the malignant spirit of +untruthful partisanship. But so long as our public cages are so +kept, let those who are exposed in them resolve to imitate Christian +and Faithful, who behaved themselves amid all their ill-usage yet more +wisely, and received all the ignominy and shame that was cast upon them +with so much meekness and patience that it actually won to their side +several of the men of the fair.</p> +<p>My brethren, this is the last time this season that I shall be able +to speak to you from this pulpit; and, perhaps, the last time altogether. +But, if it so turns out, I shall not repent that the last time I spoke +to you, and that, too, immediately after the communion table, the burden +of my message was the burden of my Master’s message after the +first communion table. ‘If ye know these things, happy are +ye if ye do them. A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love +one another. By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, +if ye have love one to another. Herein is My Father glorified, +that ye bear much fruit, so shall ye be My disciples. These things +have I spoken unto you that in Me ye might have peace. In the +world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome +the world. Know ye what I have done unto you? Ye call Me +Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so I am.’</p> +<h2>BY-ENDS</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Ye seek Me, not because ye saw the miracles, but +because ye did eat of the loaves.’—Our Lord.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In no part of John Bunyan’s ingenious book is his strong sense +and his sarcastic and humorous vein better displayed than just in his +description of By-ends, and in the full and particular account he gives +of the kinsfolk and affinity of By-ends. Is there another single +stroke in all sacred literature better fitted at once to teach the gayest +and to make the gravest smile than just John Bunyan’s sketch of +By-ends’ great-grandfather, the founder of the egoistical family +of Fairspeech, who was, to begin with, but a waterman who always looked +one way and rowed another? By-ends’ wife also is a true +helpmate to her husband. She was my Lady Feigning’s favourite +daughter, under whose nurture and example the young lady had early come +to a quite extraordinary pitch of good breeding; and now that she was +a married woman, she and her husband had, so their biographer tells +us, two firm points of family religion in which they were always agreed +and according to which they brought up all their children, namely, never +to strive too much against wind and tide, and always to watch when Religion +was walking on the sunny side of the street in his silver slippers, +and then at once to cross over and take his arm. But abundantly +amusing and entertaining as John Bunyan is at the expense of By-ends +and his family and friends, he has far other aims in view than the amusement +and entertainment of his readers. Bunyan uses all his great gifts +of insight and sense and humour and scorn so as to mark unmistakably +the road and to guide the progress of his reader’s soul to God, +his chiefest end and his everlasting portion.</p> +<p>It was no small part of our Lord’s life of humiliation on the +earth,—much more so than His being born in a low condition and +being made under the law,—to have to go about all His days among +men, knowing in every case and on every occasion what was in man. +It was a real humiliation to our Lord to see those watermen of the sea +of Tiberias sweating at their oars as they rowed round and round the +lake after Him; and His humiliation came still more home to Him as often +as He saw His own disciples disputing and pressing who should get closest +to Him while for a short season He walked in the sunshine; just as it +was His estate of exaltation already begun, when He could enter into +Himself and see to the bottom of His own heart, till He was able to +say that it was His very meat and drink to do His father’s will, +and to finish the work His Father had given Him to do. The men +of Capernaum went out after our Lord in their boats because they had +eaten of the multiplied loaves and hoped to do so again. Zebedee’s +children had forsaken all and followed our Lord, because they counted +to sit the one on His right hand and the other on His left hand in His +soon-coming kingdom. The pain and the shame all that cost our +Lord, we can only remotely imagine. But as for Himself, our Lord +never once had to blush in secret at His own motives. He never +once had to hang down His head at the discovery of His own selfish aims +and by-ends. Happy man! The thought of what He should eat +or what He should drink or wherewithal He should be clothed never troubled +His head. The thought of success, as His poor-spirited disciples +counted success, the thought of honour and power and praise, never once +rose in His heart. All these things, and all things like them, +had no attraction for Him; they awoke nothing but indifference and contempt +in him. But to please His Father and to hear from time to time +His Father’s voice saying that He was well pleased with His beloved +Son,—that was better than life to our Lord. To find out +and follow every new day His Father’s mind and will, and to finish +every night another part of His Father’s appointed work,—that +was more than His necessary food to our Lord. The great schoolmen, +as they meditated on these deep matters, had a saying to the effect +that all created things take their true goodness or their true evil +from the end they aim at. And thus it was that our Lord, aiming +only at His Father’s ends and never at His own, both manifested +and attained to a Divine goodness, just as the greedy crowds of Galilee +and the disputatious disciples, as long and as far as they made their +belly or their honour their end and aim, to that extent fell short of +all true goodness, all true satisfaction, and all true acceptance.</p> +<p>By-ends was so called because he was full of low, mean, selfish motives, +and of nothing else. All that this wretched creature did, he did +with a single eye to himself. The best things that he did became +bad things in his self-seeking hands. His very religion stank +in those men’s nostrils who knew what was in his heart. +By-ends was one of our Lord’s whited sepulchres. And so +deep, so pervading, and so abiding is this corrupt taint in human nature, +that long after a man has had his attention called to it, and is far +on to a clean escape from it, he still—nay, he all the more—languishes +and faints and is ready to die under it. Just hear what two great +servants of God have said on this humiliating and degrading matter. +Writing on this subject with all his wonted depth and solemnity, Hooker +says, ‘Even in the good things that we do, how many defects are +there intermingled! For God in that which is done, respecteth +especially the mind and intention of the doer. Cut off, then, +all those things wherein we have regarded our own glory, those things +which we do to please men, or to satisfy our own liking, those things +which we do with any by-respect, and not sincerely and purely for the +love of God, and a small score will serve for the number of our righteous +deeds. Let the holiest and best things we do be considered. +We are never better affected to God than when we pray; yet, when we +pray, how are our affections many times distracted! How little +reverence do we show to that God unto whom we speak! How little +remorse of our own miseries! How little taste of the sweet influence +of His tender mercy do we feel! The little fruit we have in holiness, +it is, God knoweth, corrupt and unsound; we put no confidence at all +in it, we challenge nothing in the world for it, we dare not call God +to a reckoning as if we had Him in our debt-books; our continued suit +to Him is, and must be, to bear with our infirmities, and to pardon +our offences.’ And Thomas Shepard, a divine of a very different +school, as we say, but a saint and a scholar equal to the best, and +indeed with few to equal him, thus writes in his <i>Spiritual Experiences</i>:—‘On +Sabbath morning I saw that I had a secret eye to my own name in all +that I did, for which I judged myself worthy of death. On another +Sabbath, when I came home, I saw the deep hypocrisy of my heart, that +in my ministry I sought to comfort and quicken others, that the glory +might reflect on me as well as on God. On the evening before the +sacrament I saw that mine own ends were to procure honour, pleasure, +gain to myself, and not to the Lord, and I saw how impossible it was +for me to seek the Lord for Himself, and to lay up all my honour and +all my pleasures in Him. On Sabbath-day, when the Lord had given +me some comfortable enlargements, I searched my heart and found my sin. +I saw that though I did to some extent seek Christ’s glory, yet +I sought it not alone, but my own glory too. After my Wednesday +sermon I saw the pride of my heart acting thus, that presently my heart +would look out and ask whether I had done well or ill. Hereupon +I saw my vileness to make men’s opinions my rule. The Lord +thus gave me some glimpse of myself and a good day that was to me.’ +One would think that this was By-ends himself climbed up into the ministry. +And so it was. And yet David Brainerd could write on his deathbed +about Thomas Shepard in this way. ‘He valued nothing in +religion that was not done to the glory of God, and, oh! that others +would lay the stress of religion here also. His method of examining +his ends and aims and the temper of his mind both before and after preaching, +is an excellent example for all who bear the sacred character. +By this means they are like to gain a large acquaintance with their +own hearts, as it is evident he had with his.’</p> +<p>But it is not those who bear the sacred character of the ministry +alone who are full of by-ends. We all are. You all are. +And there is not one all-reaching, all-exposing, and all-humbling way +of salvation appointed for ministers, and another, a more external, +superficial, easy, and self-satisfied way for their people. No. +Not only must the ambitious and disputing disciples enter into themselves +and become witnesses and judges and executioners within themselves before +they can be saved or be of any use in the salvation of others—not +only they, but the fishermen of the Lake of Tiberias, they also must +open their hearts to these stabbing words of Christ, and see how true +it is that they had followed Him for loaves and fishes, and not for +His grace and His truth. And only when they had seen and submitted +to that humiliating self-discovery would their true acquaintance with +Christ and their true search after Him begin. Come, then, all +my brethren, and not ministers only, waken up to the tremendous importance +of that which you have utterly neglected, it may be ostentatiously neglected, +up to this hour,—the true nature, the true character, of your +motives and your ends. Enter into yourselves. Be not strangers +and foreigners to yourselves. Let not the day of judgment be any +surprise to you. Witness against, judge, and execute yourselves, +and that especially because of your by-aims and by-ends. Take +up the touchstone of truth and lay it upon your most secret heart. +Do not be afraid to discover how double-minded and deceitful your heart +is. Hunt your heart down. Track it to its most secret lair. +Put its true name, and continue to put its true name, upon the main +motive of your life. Extort an answer by boot and by wheel, only +extort an answer from the inner man of the heart, to the torturing question +as to what is his treasure, his hope, his deepest wish, his daily dream. +Watch not against any outward enemy, keep all your eyes and all your +ears to your own thoughts. God keeps His awful eye on your thoughts. +His eye goes at every glance to that great depth in you. Even +His all-seeing eye can go no deeper into you than to your secret thoughts. +Go you as deep as God goes, and you will be a wise man; go as deep and +as often as He does, and then you will soon come to see eye to eye with +God, not only about your own thoughts, but about His thoughts too, and +about everything else. Till you begin to watch your own thoughts, +and to watch them especially in their aims and their ends, you will +have no idea what that moral and spiritual life is that all God’s +saints live; that life that Christ lived, and which He this night summons +you all to enter henceforth upon.</p> +<p>It is such a happy fact that it cannot be too often told, that in +the things of the soul really and truly to know and feel the disease +is to have already entered on the remedy. You will not feel, indeed, +that you have entered on the remedy; but that does not much matter so +long as you really have. And there is nothing more certain among +all the certainties of divine things than that he who feels himself +to be in death and hell with his heart so full of by-ends is all the +time as far from death and hell as any one can be who is still on this +side of heaven. When a man’s whole will and desire is set +on God, as is now and then the case, that man is perilously near a sudden +and an abundant entrance into that life and that presence where his +heart has for so long been. When a man is half mad with his own +heart, as Thomas Shepard for one was, that stranger on the earth is +at last within a step of that happy coast where all wishes end. +Watch that man. Take a last look at that man. He will soon +be taken out of your sight. Ere ever he is himself aware, he will +be rapt up into that life where saints and angels seek not their own +will, labour not for their own profit or promotion, listen not for their +own praises, but find their blessedness, the half of which had not here +been told them, in glorifying God and in enjoying Him for ever.</p> +<p>You must all have heard the name of a book that has helped many a +saint now in glory to the examination and the keeping of his own heart. +I refer to Jeremy Taylor’s <i>Holy Living and Dying</i>. +Take two or three of Taylor’s excellent rules with you as you +go down from God’s house to-night. ‘If you would really +live a holy life and die a holy death,’ says Taylor, ‘learn +to reflect in your every action on your secret end in it; consider with +yourself why you do it, and what you propound to yourself for your reward. +Pray importunately that all your purposes and all your motives may be +sanctified. Renew and rekindle your purest purposes by such ejaculations +as these: “Not unto us, O God, not unto us, but to Thy name be +all the praise. I am in this Thy servant; let all the gain be +Thine.” In great and eminent actions let there be a special +and peculiar act of resignation or oblation made to God; and in smaller +and more frequent actions fail not to secure a pious habitual intention.’ +And so on. And above all, I will add, labour and pray till you +feel in your heart that you love God with a supreme and an ever-growing +love. And, far as that may be above you as yet, impress your heart +with the assurance that such a love is possible to you also, and that +you can never be safe or happy till you attain to that love. Other +men once as far from the supreme love of God as you are have afterwards +attained to it; and so will you if you continue to set it before yourself. +Think often on God; read the best books about God; call continually +upon God; hold an intimate communion with God, till you feel that you +also actually and certainly love God. And though you begin with +loving God because He first loved you, you will, beginning with that, +rise far above that till you come to love Him for what He is in Himself +as well as for what He has done for you. ‘I have done this +in order to have a seat in the Academy,’ said a young man, handing +the solution of a problem to an old philosopher. ‘Sir,’ +was the reply, ‘with such dispositions you will never earn a seat +there. Science must be loved for its own sake, and not for any +advantage to be derived from it.’ And much more is that +true of the highest of all the sciences, the knowledge and the love +of God. Love Him, then, till you arrive at loving Him for Himself, +and then you shall be for ever delivered from all self-love and by-ends, +and shall both glorify and enjoy God for ever. As all they now +do who engaged their hearts on earth to the service and the love and +the enjoyment of God is such psalms and prayers as these: ‘Whom +have I in heaven but Thee? and there is no one on earth that I desire +beside Thee. How excellent is Thy loving-kindness, O God! +The children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings. +For with Thee is the fountain of life, and in Thy light shall we see +light. As for me, I will behold Thy face in righteousness: I shall +be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness. Thou wilt show me +the path of life; in Thy presence is fullness of joy, and at Thy right +hand there are pleasures for evermore.’</p> +<h2>GIANT DESPAIR</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘A wounded spirit who can bear?’—Solomon.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Every schoolboy has Giant Despair by heart. The rough road +after the meadow of lilies, the stile into By-Path-Meadow, the night +coming on, the thunder and the lightning and the waters rising amain, +Giant Despair’s apprehension of Christian and Hopeful, their dreadful +bed in his dungeon from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, how they +were famished with hunger and beaten with a grievous crab-tree cudgel +till they were not able to turn, with many other sufferings too many +and too terrible to be told which they endured till Saturday about midnight, +when they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of +day;—John Bunyan is surely the best story-teller in all the world. +And, then, over and above that, as often as a boy reads Giant Despair +and his dungeon to his father and mother, the two hearers are like Christian +and Hopeful when the Delectable shepherds showed them what had happened +to some who once went in at By-Path stile: the two pilgrims looked one +upon another with tears gushing out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds.</p> +<p>John Bunyan’s own experience enters deeply into these terrible +pages. In composing these terrible pages, Bunyan writes straight +and bold out of his own heart and conscience. The black and bitter +essence of a whole black and bitter volume is crushed into these four +or five bitter pages. Last week I went over <i>Grace Abounding</i> +again, and marked the passages in which its author describes his own +experiences of doubt, diffidence, and despair, till I gave over counting +the passages, they are so many. I had intended to illustrate the +passage before us to-night out of the kindred materials that I knew +were so abundant in Bunyan’s terrible autobiography, but I had +to give up that idea. It would have taken two or three lectures +to itself to tell all that Bunyan suffered all his life long from an +easily-wounded spirit. The whole book is just Giant Despair and +his dungeon, with a gleam here and there of that sunshiny weather that +threw the giant into one of his fits, in which he always lost for the +time the use of his limbs. Return often, my brethren, to that +masterpiece, <i>Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners</i>. I +have read it a hundred times, but last week it was as fresh and powerful +and consoling as ever to my sin-wounded spirit.</p> +<p>Let me select some of the incidents that offer occasion for a comment +or two.</p> +<p>1. And, in the first place, take notice, and lay well to heart, +how sudden, and almost instantaneous, is the fall of Christian and Hopeful +from the very gate of heaven to the very gate of hell. All the +Sabbath and the Monday and the Tuesday before that fatal Wednesday, +the two pilgrims had walked with great delight on the banks of a very +pleasant river; that river, in fact, which David the King called the +river of God, and John, the river of the water of life. They drank +also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to +their weary spirits. On either side of the river was there a meadow +curiously beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. +In this meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down +and sleep safely. When they awoke they gathered again of the fruits +of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then lay +down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and nights. +Now, could you have believed it that two such men as our pilgrims were +could be in the enjoyment of all that the first half of the week, and +then by their own doing should be in Giant Despair’s deepest dungeon +before the end of the same week? And yet so it was. And +all that is written for the solemn warning of those who are at any time +in great enlargement and refreshment and joy in their spiritual life. +It is intended for all those who are at any time revelling in a season +of revival: those, for example, who are just come home from Keswick +or Dunblane, as well as for all those who at home have just made the +discovery of some great master of the spiritual life, and who are almost +beside themselves with their delight in their divine author. If +they are new beginners they will not take this warning well, nor will +even all old pilgrims lay it aright to heart; but there it is as plain +as the plainest, simplest, and most practical writer in our language +could put it.</p> +<blockquote><p>Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide<br /> +To comfort pilgrims by the highway side;<br /> +The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell,<br /> +Yield dainties for them: And he that can tell<br /> +What pleasant fruits, yea leaves, these trees do yield,<br /> +Will soon sell all that he may buy this field.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thus the two pilgrims sang: only, adds our author in a parenthesis, +they were not, as yet, at their journey’s end.</p> +<p>2. ‘Now, I beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed +far when the river and the way for a time parted. At which the +two pilgrims were not a little sorry.’ The two pilgrims +could not perhaps be expected to break forth into dancing and singing +at the parting of the river and the way, even though they had recollected +at that moment what the brother of the Lord says about our counting +it all joy when we fall into divers temptations. But it would +not have been too much to expect from such experienced pilgrims as they +by this time were, that they should have suspected and checked and commanded +their sorrow. They should have said something like this to one +another: Well, it would have been very pleasant had it been our King’s +will and way with us that we should have finished the rest of our pilgrimage +among the apples and the lilies and on the soft and fragrant bank of +the river; but we believe that it must in some as yet hidden way be +better for us that the river and our road should part from one another +at least for a season. Come, brother, and let us go on till we +find out our Master’s deep and loving mind. But, instead +of saying that, Christian and Hopeful soon became like the children +of Israel as they journeyed from Mount Hor, their soul was much discouraged +because of the way. And always as they went on they wished for +a softer and a better way. And it was so that they very soon came +to the very thing they so much wished for. For, what is that on +the left hand of the hard road but a stile, and over the stile a meadow +as soft to the feet as the meadow of lilies itself? ‘’Tis +just according to my wish,’ said Christian; ‘here is the +easiest going. Come, good Hopeful, and let us go over.’ +Hopeful: ‘But how if the path should lead us out of the way?’ +‘That’s not like,’ said the other; ‘look, doth +it not go along by the wayside?’ So Hopeful, being persuaded +by his fellow, went after him over the stile.</p> +<p>Call to mind, all you who are delivered and restored pilgrims, that +same stile that once seduced you. To keep that stile ever before +you is at once a safe and a seemly occupation of mind for any one who +has made your mistakes and come through your chastisements. Christian’s +eyes all his after-days filled with tears, and he turned away his face +and blushed scarlet, as often as he suddenly came upon any opening in +a wall at all like that opening he here persuaded Hopeful to climb through. +It is too much to expect that those who are just mounting the stile, +and have just caught sight of the smooth path beyond it, will let themselves +be pulled back into the hard and narrow way by any persuasion of ours. +Christian put down Hopeful’s objection till Hopeful broke out +bitterly when the thunder was roaring over his head and he was wading +about among the dark waters: ‘Oh that I had kept myself in my +way!’ Are you a little sorry to-night that the river and +the way are parting in your life? Is your soul discouraged in +you because of the soreness of the way? And as you go do you still +wish for some better way than the strait way? And have you just +espied a stile on the left hand of your narrow and flinty path, and +on looking over it is there a pleasant meadow? And does your companion +point out to your satisfaction, and, almost to your good conscience, +that the soft road runs right along the hard road, only over the stile +and outside the fence? Then, good-bye. For it is all over +with you. We shall meet you again, please God; but when we meet +you again, your mind and memory will be full of shame and remorse and +suffering enough to keep you in songs of repentance for all the rest +of your life on earth. Farewell!</p> +<blockquote><p>The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh,<br /> +Will seek its ease; but oh! how they afresh<br /> +Do thereby plunge themselves new grieves into:<br /> +Who seek to please the flesh themselves undo.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>3. The two transgressors had not gone far on their own way +when night came on and with the night a very great darkness. But +what soon added to the horror of their condition was that they heard +a man fall into a deep pit right before them, and it sounded to them +as if he was dashed to pieces by his fall. So they called to know +the matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. +Then said Hopeful: Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, +as mistrusting that he had led Hopeful out of the way. Now, all +that also is true to the very life, and has been taken down by Bunyan +from the very life. We have all heard men falling and heard them +groaning just a little before us after we had left the strait road. +They had just gone a little farther wrong than we had as yet gone,—just +a very little farther; in some cases, indeed, not so far, when they +fell and were dashed to pieces with their fall. It was well for +us at that dreadful moment that we heard the same voice saying to us +for our encouragement as said to the two trembling transgressors: ‘Let +thine heart be toward the highway, even the way that thou wentest; turn +again.’ Now, what is it in which you are at this moment +going off the right road? What is that life of disobedience or +self-indulgence that you are just entering on? Keep your ears +open and you will hear hundreds of men and women falling and being dashed +to pieces before you and all around you. Are you falling of late +too much under the power of your bodily appetites? It is not one +man, nor two, well known to you, who have fallen never to rise again +out of that horrible pit. Are you well enough aware that you are +being led into bad company? Or, is your companion, who is not +a bad man in anything else, leading you, in this and in that, into what +at any rate is bad for you? You will soon, unless you cut off +your companion like a right hand, be found saying with misguided and +overruled Hopeful: Oh that I had kept me to my right way! And +so on in all manner of sin and trespass. Those who have ears to +hear such things hear every day one man after another falling through +lust or pride or malice or idleness or infidelity, till there is none +to answer.</p> +<p>4. ‘All hope abandon’ was the writing that Dante +read over the door of hell. And the two prisoners all but abandoned +all hope when they found themselves in Giant Despair’s dungeon. +Only, Christian, the elder man, had the most distress because their +being where they now were lay mostly at his door. All this part +of the history also is written in Bunyan’s very heart’s +blood. ‘I found it hard work,’ he tells us of himself, +‘to pray to God because despair was swallowing me up. I +thought I was as with a tempest driven away from God. About this +time I did light on that dreadful story of that miserable mortal, Francis +Spira, a book that was to my troubled spirit as salt when rubbed into +a fresh wound; every groan of that man with all the rest of his actions +in his dolours, as his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his +wringing of hands, was as knives and daggers in my soul, especially +that sentence of his was frightful to me: “Man knows the beginning +of sin, but who bounds the issues thereof?”’ We never +read anything like Spira’s experience and <i>Grace Abounding</i> +and Giant Despair’s dungeon in the books of our day. And +why not, do you think? Is there less sin among us modern men, +or did such writers as John Bunyan overdraw and exaggerate the sinfulness +of sin? Were they wrong in holding so fast as they did hold that +death and hell are the sure wages of sin? Has divine justice become +less fearful than it used to be to those who rush against it, or is +it that we are so much better men? Is our faith stronger and more +victorious over doubt and fear? Is it that our hope is better +anchored? Whatever the reason is, there can be no question but +that we walk in a liberty that our fathers did not always walk in. +Whether or no our liberty is not recklessness and licentiousness is +another matter. Whether or no it would be a better sign of us +if we were better acquainted with doubt and dejection and diffidence, +and even despair, is a question it would only do us good to put to ourselves. +When we properly attend to these matters we shall find out that, the +holier a man is, the more liable he is to the assaults of doubt and +fear and even despair. We have whole psalms of despair, so deep +was David’s sense of sin, so high were his views of God’s +holiness and justice, and so full of diffidence was his wounded heart. +And David’s Son, when our sin was laid upon Him, felt the curse +and the horror of His state so much that His sweat was in drops of blood, +and His cry in the darkness was that His God had forsaken Him. +And when our spirits are wounded with our sins, as the spirits of all +God’s great saints have always been wounded, we too shall feel +ourselves more at home with David and with Asaph, with Spira even, and +with Bunyan. Despair is not good, but it is infinitely better +than indifference. ‘It is a common saying,’ says South, +‘and an observation in divinity, that where despair has slain +its thousands, presumption has slain its ten thousands. The agonies +of the former are indeed more terrible, but the securities of the latter +are far more fatal.’</p> +<p>5. ‘I will,’ says Paul to Timothy, ‘that +men pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands without doubting.’ +And, just as Paul would have it, Christian and Hopeful began to lift +up their hands even in the dungeon of Doubting Castle. ‘Well,’ +we read, ‘on Saturday night about midnight they began to pray, +and continued in prayer till almost break of day. Now, before +it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out in this passionate +speech: “What a fool,” quoth he, “am I thus to lie +in a stinking dungeon when I may as well walk at liberty; I have a key +in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock +in all Doubting Castle.” Then said Hopeful: “That’s +good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom and try.”’ +Then Christian pulled the key out of his bosom and the bolt gave back, +and Christian and Hopeful both came out, and you may be sure they were +soon out of the giant’s jurisdiction.</p> +<p>Now, I do not know that I can do better at this point, and in closing, +than just to tell you about some of that bunch of keys that John Bunyan +found from time to time in his own bosom, and which made all his prison +doors one after another fly open at their touch. ‘About +ten o’clock one day, as I was walking under a hedge, full of sorrow +and guilt, God knows, and bemoaning myself for my hard hap, suddenly +this sentence bolted in upon me: The blood of Christ remits all guilt. +Again, when I was fleeing from the face of God, for I did flee from +His face, that is, my mind and spirit fled before Him; for by reason +of His highness I could not endure; then would the text cry: Return +unto Me; it would cry with a very great voice: Return unto me, for I +have redeemed thee. And this would make me look over my shoulder +behind me to see if I could discern that this God of grace did follow +me with a pardon in His hand. Again, the next day, at evening, +being under many fears, I went to seek the Lord, and as I prayed, I +cried, with strong cries: O Lord, I beseech Thee, show me that Thou +hast loved me with an everlasting love. I had no sooner said it +but, with sweetness, this returned upon me as an echo or sounding-again, +I have loved thee with an everlasting love. Now, I went to bed +at quiet; also, when I awaked the next morning it was fresh upon my +soul and I believed it . . . Again, as I was then before the Lord, that +Scripture fastened on my heart: O man, great is thy faith, even as if +one had clapped me on the back as I was on my knees before God . . . +At another time I remember I was again much under this question: Whether +the blood of Christ was sufficient to save my soul? In which doubt +I continued from morning till about seven or eight at night, and at +last, when I was, as it were, quite worn out with fear, these words +did sound suddenly within my heart: He is able. Methought this +word <i>able</i> was spoke so loud unto me and gave such a justle to +my fear and doubt as I never had all my life either before that or after +. . . Again, one morning, when I was at prayer and trembling under fear, +that piece of a sentence dashed in upon me: My grace is sufficient. +At this, methought: Oh, how good a thing it is for God to send His word! +. . . Again, one day as I was in a meeting of God’s people, full +of sadness and terror, for my fears were again strong upon me, and as +I was thinking that my soul was never the better, these words did with +great power suddenly break in upon me: My grace is sufficient for thee, +My grace is sufficient for thee, three times together; and, oh! methought +that every word was a mighty word unto me; as <i>My</i>, and <i>grace</i>, +and <i>sufficient</i>, and <i>for thee</i>. These words were then, +and sometimes still are, far bigger words than others are. Again, +one day as I was passing in the field, and that, too, with some dashes +in my conscience, suddenly this sentence fell upon my soul: Thy righteousness +is in heaven. And methought withal I saw, with the eyes of my +soul, Jesus Christ at God’s right hand. I saw also, moreover, +that it was not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, +nor my bad frame that made my righteousness worse, for my righteousness +was Jesus Christ Himself, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever . +. . Again, oh, what did I see in that blessed sixth of John: Him that +cometh to Me I will in nowise cast out. I should in those days +often flounce toward that promise as horses do toward sound ground that +yet stick in the mire. Oh! many a pull hath my heart had with +Satan for this blessed sixth of John . . . And, again, as I was thus +in a muse, that Scripture also came with great power upon my spirit: +Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His +mercy He saved us. Now was I got on high: I saw my self within +the arms of Grace and Mercy, and though I was before afraid to think +of a dying hour, yet now I cried: Let me die. Now death was lovely +and beautiful in my sight; for I saw that we shall never live indeed +till we be gone to the other world. Heirs of God, methought, heirs +of God! God himself is the portion of His saints. This did +sweetly revive my spirit, and help me to hope in God; which when I had +with comfort mused on a while, that word fell with great weight upon +my mind: Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave, where is thy +victory? At this I became both well in body and mind at once, +for my sickness did presently vanish, and I walked comfortably in my +work for God again.’</p> +<p>Such were some of the many keys by the use of which God let John +Bunyan so often out of despair into full assurance and out of darkness +into light. Which of the promises have been of such help to you? +Over what Scriptures have you ever cried out: Oh, how good a thing it +is for God to send me His word! Which are the biggest words in +all the Bible to you? To what promise did you ever flounce as +a horse flounces when he is sticking in the mire? And has any +word of God so made God your God that even death itself, since it alone +separates you from His presence, is lovely and beautiful in your eyes? +Have you a cluster of such keys in your bosom? If you have, take +them all out to-night and go over them again with thanksgiving before +you sleep.</p> +<h2>KNOWLEDGE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘I will give you pastors after Mine own heart, +which shall feed you with knowledge and understanding.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Delectable Mountains rise out of the heart of Immanuel’s +Land. This fine range of far-rolling hills falls away on the one +side toward the plain of Destruction, and on the other side toward the +land of Beulah and the Celestial City, and the way to the Celestial +City runs like a bee-line over these well-watered pastures. Standing +on a clear day on the highest peak of the Delectable Mountains, if you +have good eyes you can see the hill Difficulty in the far-back distance +with a perpetual mist clinging to its base and climbing up its sides, +which mist the shepherds say to you rises all the year round off the +Slough of Despond, while, beyond that again the heavy smoke of the city +of Destruction and the town of Stupidity shuts in the whole horizon. +And then, when you turn your back on all that, in favourable states +of the weather you can see here and there the shimmer of that river +over which there is no bridge; and, then again, so high above the river +that it seems to be a city standing in heaven rather than upon the earth, +you will see the high towers and shining palace roofs and broad battlements +of the New Jerusalem itself. The two travellers should have spent +the past three days among the sights of the Delectable Mountains; and +they would have done so had not the elder traveller misled the younger. +But now that they were set free and fairly on the right road again, +the way they had spent the past three days and three nights made the +gardens and the orchards and the pastures that ran round the bottom +and climbed up the sides of the Delectable Mountains delectable beyond +all description to them.</p> +<p>Now, there were on the tops of those mountains certain shepherds +feeding their flocks, and they stood by the highway side. The +two travellers therefore went up to the shepherds, and leaning upon +their staves (as is common with weary travellers when they stand to +talk with any by the way), they asked: Whose delectable mountains are +these? and whose be the sheep that feed upon them? These mountains, +replied the shepherds, are Immanuel’s Land, and they are within +sight of the city; the sheep also are His, and He laid down His life +for them. After some more talk like this by the wayside, the shepherds, +being pleased with the pilgrims, looked very lovingly upon them and +said: Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. The shepherds then, +whose names were Knowledge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took +them by the hand to lead them to their tents, and made them partake +of what was ready at present. They said, moreover: We would that +you should stay with us a while to be acquainted with us, and yet more +to solace yourselves with the cheer of these Delectable Mountains. +Then the travellers told them they were content to stay; and so they +went to rest that night because it was now very late. The four +shepherds lived all summer-time in a lodge of tents well up among their +sheep, while their wives and families had their homes all the year round +in the land of Beulah. The four men formed a happy fraternity, +and they worked among and watched over their Master’s sheep with +one united mind. What one of those shepherds could not so well +do in the tent or in the fold or out on the hillside, some of the others +better did. And what one of them could do to any perfection all +the others by one consent left that to him to do. You would have +thought that they were made by a perfect miracle to fit into one another, +so harmoniously did they live and work together, and such was the bond +of brotherly love that held them together. At the same time, there +was one of the happy quaternity who, from his years on the hills, and +his services in times of trial and danger, and one thing and another, +fell always, and with the finest humility too, into the foremost place, +and his name, as you have already heard, was Knowledge. Old Mr. +Know-all the children in the villages below ran after him and named +him as they clustered round his staff and hid in the great folds of +his shepherd’s coat.</p> +<p>Now, in all this John Bunyan speaks as a child to children; but, +of such children as John Bunyan and his readers is the kingdom of heaven. +My very youngest hearer here to-night knows quite well, or, at any rate, +shrewdly suspects, that Knowledge was not a shepherd going about with +his staff among woolly sheep; nor would the simplest-minded reader of +John Bunyan’s book go to seek the Delectable Mountains and Immanuel’s +Land in any geographer’s atlas, or on any schoolroom map. +Oh, no. I do not need to stop to tell the most guileless of my +hearers that old Knowledge was not a shepherd whose sheep were four-footed +creatures, but a minister of the gospel, whose sheep are men, women, +and children. Nor are the Delectable Mountains any range of hills +and valleys of grass and herbs in England or Scotland. The prophet +Ezekiel calls them the mountains of Israel; but by that you all know +that he had in his mind something far better than any earthly mountain. +That prophet of Israel had in his mind the church of God with its synagogues +and its sacraments, with all the grace and truth that all these things +conveyed from God to the children of Israel. As David also sang +in the twenty-third Psalm: ‘The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not +want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me +beside the still waters.’</p> +<p>Knowledge, then, is a minister; but every congregation has not such +a minister set over it as Knowledge is. All our college-bred and +ordained men are not ministers like Knowledge. This excellent +minister takes his excellent name from his great talents and his great +attainments. And while all his great talents are his Master’s +gift to him, his great attainments are all his own to lay out in his +Master’s service. To begin with, his Master had given His +highly-favoured servant a good understanding and a good memory, and +many good and suitable opportunities. Now, a good understanding +is a grand endowment for a minister, and his ministerial office will +all his days afford him opportunity for the best understanding he can +bring to it. The Christian ministry, first and last, has had a +noble roll of men of a strong understanding. The author of the +book now open before us was a man of a strong understanding. John +Bunyan had a fine imagination, with great gifts of eloquent, tender, +and most heart-winning utterance, but in his case also all that was +bottomed in a strong English understanding. Then, again, a good +memory is indispensable to a minister of knowledge. You must be +content to take a second, a third, or even a lower place still if your +Master has withheld from you a good memory. Dr. Goodwin has a +passage on this point that I have often turned up when I had again forgotten +it. ‘Thou mayest have a weak memory, perhaps, yet if it +can and doth remember good things as well and better than other things, +then it is a sanctified memory, and the defilement of thy memory is +healed though the imperfection of it is not; and, though thou art to +be humbled for it as a misery, yet thou art not to be discouraged; for +God doth not hate thee for it, but pities thee; and the like holds good +and may be said as to the want of other like gifts.’ You +cannot be a man of a commanding knowledge anywhere, and you must be +content to take a very subordinate and second place, even in the ministry, +unless you have both a good understanding and a good memory; but then, +at the last day your Master will not call you and your congregation +to an account for what He has not committed to your stewardship. +And on that day that will be something. But not only must ministers +of knowledge have a good mind and a good memory; they must also be the +most industrious of men. Other men may squander and kill their +time as they please, but a minister had as good kill himself at once +out of the way of better men unless he is to hoard his hours like gold +and jewels. He must read only the best books, and he must read +them with the ‘pain of attention.’ He must read nothing +that is not the best. He has not the time. And if he is +poor and remote and has not many books, he will have Butler, and let +him read Butler’s Preface to his Sermons till he has it by heart. +The best books are always few, and they must be read over and over again +when other men are reading the ‘great number of books and papers +of amusement that come daily in their way, and which most perfectly +fall in with their idle way of reading and considering things.’ +And, then, such a minister must store up what he reads, if not in a +good memory, then in some other pigeon-hole that he has made for himself +outside of himself, since his Master has not seen fit to furnish him +with such a repository within himself. And, then, after all that,—for +a good minister is not made yet,—understanding and memory and +industry must all be sanctified by secret prayer many times every day, +and then laid out every day in the instruction, impression, and comfort +of his people. And, then, that privileged people will be as happy +in possessing that man for their minister as the sheep of Immanuel’s +Land were in having Knowledge set over them for their shepherd. +They will never look up without being fed. They will every Sabbath-day +be led by green pastures and still waters. And when they sing +of the mercies of the Lord to them and to their children, and forget +not all His benefits, among the best of their benefits they will not +forget to hold up and bless their minister.</p> +<p>But, then, there is, nowadays, so much sound knowledge to be gained, +not to speak of so many books and papers of mere pastime and amusement, +that it may well be asked by a young man who is to be a minister whether +he is indeed called to be like that great student who took all knowledge +for his province. Yes, indeed, he is. For, if the minister +and interpreter of nature is to lay all possible knowledge under contribution, +what must not the minister of Jesus Christ and the interpreter of Scripture +and providence and experience and the human heart be able to make the +sanctified use of? Yes, all kinds and all degrees of knowledge, +to be called knowledge, belong by right and obligation to his office +who is the minister and interpreter of Him Who made all things, Who +is the Heir of all things, and by Whom all things consist. At +the same time, since the human mind has its limits, and since human +life has its limits, a minister of all men must make up his mind to +limit himself to the best knowledge; the knowledge, that is, that chiefly +concerns him,—the knowledge of God so far as God has made Himself +known, and the knowledge of Christ. He must be a student of his +Bible night and day and all his days. If he has not the strength +of understanding and memory to read his Bible easily in the original +Hebrew and Greek, let him all the more make up for that by reading it +the oftener and the deeper in English. Let him not only read his +Bible deeply for his sermons and prayers, lectures and addresses, let +him do that all day every day of the week, and then read it all night, +and every night of the week, for his own soul. Let every minister +know his Bible down to the bottom, and with his Bible his own heart. +He who so knows his Bible and with it his own heart has almost books +enough. All else is but ostentatious apparatus. When a minister +has neither understanding nor memory wherewith to feed his flock, let +him look deep enough into his Bible and into his own heart, and then +begin out of them to write and speak. And, then, for the outside +knowledge of the passing day he will read the newspapers, and though +he gives up all the morning to the newspapers, and returns to them again +in the evening, his conscience will not upbraid him if he reads as Jonathan +Edwards read the newsletters of his day,—to see how the kingdom +of heaven is prospering in the earth, and to pray for its prosperity. +And, then, by that time, and when he has got that length, all other +kinds of knowledge will have fallen into its own place, and will have +taken its own proper proportion of his time and his thought. He +was a man of a great understanding and a great memory and great industry +who said that he had taken all knowledge for his province. But +he was a far wiser man who said that knowledge is not our proper happiness. +Our province, he went on to say, is virtue and religion, life and manners: +the science of improving the temper and making the heart better. +This is the field assigned us to cultivate: how much it has lain neglected +is indeed astonishing.</p> +<p>Now, my brethren, two dangers, two simply terrible dangers, arise +to every one of you out of all this matter of your ministers and their +knowledge. 1. The first danger is,—to be frank with you +on this subject,—that you are yourselves so ignorant on all the +matters that a minister has to do with, that you do not know one minister +from another, a good minister from one who is really no minister at +all. Now, I will put it to you, on what principle and for what +reason did you choose your present minister, if, indeed, you did choose +him? Was it because you were assured by people you could trust +that he was a minister of knowledge and knew his own business? +Or was it that when you went to worship with him for yourself you have +not been able ever since to tear yourself away from him, nor has any +one else been able to tear you away, though some have tried? When +you first came to the city, did you give, can you remember, some real +anxiety, rising sometimes into prayer, as to who your minister among +so many ministers was to be? Or did you choose him and your present +seat in his church because of some real or supposed worldly interest +of yours you thought you could further by taking your letter of introduction +to him? Had you heard while yet at home, had your father and mother +talked of such things to you, that rich men, and men of place and power, +political men and men high in society, sat in that church and took notice +of who attended it and who did not? Do you, down to this day, +know one church from another so far as spiritual and soul-saving knowledge +is concerned? Do you know that two big buildings, called churches, +may stand in the same street, and have men, called ministers, carrying +on certain services in them from week to week, and yet, for all the +purposes for which Christ came and died and rose again and gave ministers +to His church, these two churches and their ministers are farther asunder +than the two poles? Do you understand what I am saying? +Do you understand what I have been saying all night, or are you one +of those of whom the prophet speaks in blame and in pity as being destroyed +for lack of knowledge? Well, that is your first danger, that you +are so ignorant, and as a consequence, so careless, as not to know one +minister from another.</p> +<p>2. And your second danger in connection with your minister +is, that you have, and may have long had, a good minister, but that +you still remain yourself a bad man. My brethren, be you all sure +of it, there is a special and a fearful danger in having a specially +good minister. Think twice, and make up your mind well, before +you call a specially good minister, or become a communicant, or even +an adherent under a specially good minister. If two bad men go +down together to the pit, and the one has had a good minister, as, God +have mercy on us, sometimes happens, and the other has only had one +who had the name of a minister, the evangelised reprobate will lie in +a deeper bed in hell, and will spend a more remorseful eternity on it +than will the other. No man among you, minister or no minister, +good minister or bad, will be able to sin with impunity. But he +who sins on and on after good preaching will be beaten with many stripes. +‘Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! +For if the mighty works which were done in you had been done in Tyre +and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. +But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at +the day of judgment than for you.’ ‘Thou that hast +knowledge,’ says a powerful old preacher, ‘canst not sin +so cheap as another that is ignorant. Places of much knowledge’—he +was preaching in the university pulpit of Oxford—‘and plentiful +in the means of grace are dear places for a man to sin in. To +be drunken or unclean after a powerful sermon, and after the Holy Ghost +has enlightened thee, is more than to have so sinned twenty times before. +Thou mightest have sinned ten times more and been damned less. +For does not Jesus Christ the Judge say to thee, This is thy condemnation, +that so much light has come to thee?’ And, taking the then +way of execution as a sufficiently awful illustration, the old Oxford +Puritan goes on to say that to sin against light is the highest step +of the ladder before turning off. And, again, that if there are +worms in hell that die not, it is surely gospel light that breeds them.</p> +<h2>EXPERIENCE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘My heart had great experience.’—The +Preacher.</p> +<p>‘I will give them pastors after Mine own heart.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Experience, the excellent shepherd of the Delectable Mountains, had +a brother in the army, and he was an equally excellent soldier. +The two brothers—they were twin-brothers—had been brought +up together till they were grown-up men in the same town of Mansoul. +All the Experience family, indeed, had from time immemorial hailed from +that populous and important town, and their family tree ran away back +beyond the oldest extant history. The two brothers, while in all +other things as like as two twin-brothers could be, at the same time +very early in life began to exhibit very different talents and tastes +and dispositions; till, when we meet with them in their full manhood, +the one is a soldier in the army and the other a shepherd on the Delectable +Mountains. The soldier-brother is thus described in one of the +military histories of his day: ‘A man of conduct and of valour, +and a person prudent in matters. A comely person, moreover, well-spoken +in negotiations, and very successful in undertakings. His colours +were the white colours of Mansoul and his scutcheon was the dead lion +and the dead bear.’</p> +<p>The shepherd-brother, on the other hand, is thus pictured out to +us by one who has seen him. A traveller who has visited the Delectable +Mountains, and has met and talked with the shepherds, thus describes +Experience in his excellent itinerary: ‘Knowledge,’ he says, +‘I found to be the sage of the company, spare in build, high of +forehead, worn in age, and his tranquil gait touched with abstractedness. +While Experience was more firmly knit in form and face, with a shrewd +kindly eye and a happy readiness in his bearing, and all his hard-earned +wisdom evidently on foot within him as a capability for work and for +control.’ This, then, was the second of the four shepherds, +who fed Immanuel’s sheep on the Delectable Mountains.</p> +<p>But here again to-night, and in the case of Experience, just as last +Sabbath night and in the case of Knowledge, in all this John Bunyan +speaks to children,—only the children here are the children of +the kingdom of heaven. The veriest child who reads the Delectable +Mountains begins to suspect before he is done that Knowledge and Experience +are not after all two real and true shepherds going their rounds with +their staves and their wallets and their wheeling dogs. Yes, though +the little fellow cannot put his suspicions into proper words for you, +all the same he has his suspicions that he is being deceived by you +and your Sabbath book; and, ten to one, from that sceptical day he will +not read much more of John Bunyan till in after-life he takes up John +Bunyan never for a single Sabbath again to lay him down. Yes, +let the truth be told at once, Experience is simply a minister, and +not a real shepherd at all; a minister of the gospel, a preacher, and +a pastor; but, then, he is a preacher and a pastor of no ordinary kind, +but of the selectest and very best kind.</p> +<p>1. Now, my brethren, to plunge at once out of the parable and +into the interpretation, I observe, in the first place, that pastors +who are indeed to be pastors after God’s own heart have all to +pass into their pastorate through the school of experience. Preaching +after God’s own heart, and pastoral work of the same divine pattern, +cannot be taught in any other school than the school of experience. +Poets may be born and not made, but not pastors nor preachers. +Nay, do not all our best poets first learn in their sufferings what +afterwards they teach us in their songs? At any rate, that is +certainly the case with preachers and pastors. As my own old minister +once said to me in a conversation on this very subject, ‘Even +God Himself cannot inspire an experience.’ No. For +if He could He would surely have done so in the case of His own Son, +to Whom in the gift of the Holy Ghost He gave all that He could give +and all that His Son could receive. But an experience cannot in +the very nature of things be either bestowed on the one hand or received +and appropriated on the other. An experience in the unalterable +nature of the thing itself must be undergone. The Holy Ghost Himself +after He has been bestowed and received has to be experimented upon, +and taken into this and that need, trial, cross, and care of life. +He is not sent to spare us our experiences, but to carry us through +them. And thus it is (to keep for a moment in sight of the highest +illustration we have of this law of experience), thus it is, I say, +that the apostle has it in his Epistle to the Hebrews that though Christ +Himself were a Son, yet learned He obedience by the things that He suffered. +And being by experience made perfect He then went on to do such and +such things for us. Why, for instance, for one thing, why do you +think was our Lord able to speak with such extraordinary point, impressiveness, +and assurance about prayer; about the absolute necessity and certainty +of secret, importunate, persevering prayer having, sooner or later, +in one shape or other, and in the best possible shape, its answer? +Why but because of His own experience? Why but because His own +closet, hilltop, all-night, and up-before-the-day prayers had all been +at last heard and better heard than He had been able to ask? We +can quite well read between the lines in all our Lord’s parables +and in all the passages of His sermons about prayer. The unmistakable +traces of otherwise untold enterprises and successes, agonies and victories +of prayer, are to be seen in every such sermon of His. And so, +in like manner, in all that He says to His disciples about the sweetness +of submission, resignation, and self-denial, as also about the nourishment +for His soul that He got out of every hard act of obedience,—and +so on. There is running through all our Lord’s doctrinal +and homiletical teaching that note of reality and of certitude that +can only come to any teaching out of the long and deep and intense experience +of the teacher. And as the Master was, so are all His ministers. +When I read, for instance, what William Law says about the heart-searching +and heart-cleansing efficacy of intercessory prayer in the case of him +who continues all his life so to pray, and carries such prayer through +all the experiences and all the relationships of life, I do not need +you to tell me where that great man of God made that great discovery. +I know that he made it in his own closet, and on his own knees, and +in his own evil heart. And so, also, when I come nearer home. +Whenever I hear a single unconventional, immediate, penetrating, overawing +petition or confession in a minister’s pulpit prayer or in his +family worship, I do not need to be told out of what prayer-book he +took that. I know without his telling me that my minister has +been, all unknown to me till now, at that same school of prayer to which +his Master was put in the days of His flesh, and out of which He brought +the experiences that He afterwards put into the Friend at midnight, +and the Importunate widow, as also into the Egg and the scorpion, the +Bread and the stone, the Knocking and the opening, the Seeking and the +finding.</p> +<blockquote><p>His children thus most dear to Him,<br /> +Their heavenly Father trains,<br /> +Through all the hard experience led<br /> +Of sorrows and of pains.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And if His children, then ten times more the tutors and governors +of His children,—the pastors and the preachers He prepares for +His people.</p> +<p>2. Again, though I will not put those two collegiate shepherds +against one another, yet, in order to bring out the whole truth on this +matter, I will risk so far as to say that where we cannot have both +Knowledge and Experience, by all means let us have Experience. +Yes, I declare to you that if I were choosing a minister for myself, +and could not have both the book-knowledge and the experience of the +Christian life in one and the same man; and could not have two ministers, +one with all the talents and another with all the experiences; I would +say that, much as I like an able and learned sermon from an able and +learned man, I would rather have less learning and more experience. +And, then, no wonder that such pastors and preachers are few. +For how costly must a thoroughly good minister’s experience be +to him! What a quantity and what a quality of experience is needed +to take a raw, light-minded, ignorant, and self-satisfied youth and +transform him into the pastor, the tried and trusted friend of the tempted, +the sorrow-laden, and the shipwrecked hearts and lives in his congregation! +What years and years of the selectest experiences are needed to teach +the average divinity student to know himself, to track out and run to +earth his own heart, and thus to lay open and read other men’s +hearts to their self-deceived owners in the light of his own. +A matter, moreover, that he gets not one word of help toward in all +his college curriculum. David was able to say in his old age that +he fed the flock of God in Israel according to the integrity of his +heart, and guided them by the skilfulness of his hands. But what +years and years of shortcoming and failure in private and in public +life lie behind that fine word ‘integrity’! as also what +stumbles and what blunders behind that other fine word ‘skilfulness’! +But, then, how a lightest touch of a preacher’s own dear-bought +experience skilfully let fall brightens up an obscure scripture! +How it sends a thrill through a prayer! How it wings an arrow +to the conscience! How it sheds abroad balm upon the heart! +Let no minister, then, lose heart when he is sent back to the school +of experience. He knows in theory that tribulation worketh patience, +and patience experience, but it is not theory, but experience, that +makes a minister after God’s own heart. I sometimes wish +that I may live to see a chair of Experimental Religion set up in all +our colleges. I fear it is a dream, and that it must have been +pronounced impracticable long ago by our wisest heads. Still, +all the same, that does not prevent me from again and again indulging +my dream. I indulge my fond dream again as often as I look back +on my own tremendous mistakes in the management of my own personal and +ministerial life, as well as sometimes see some signs of the same mistakes +in some other ministers. In my dream for the Church of the future +I see the programme of lectures in the Experimental Class and the accompanying +examinations. I see the class library, and I envy the students. +I am present at the weekly book-day, and at the periodical addresses +delivered to the class by those town and country ministers who have +been most skilful in their pastorate and most successful in the conversion +and in the character of their people. And, unless I wholly deceive +myself, I see, not all the class—that will never be till the millennium—but +here and there twos and threes, and more men than that, who will throw +their whole hearts into the work of such a class till they come out +of the hall in experimental religion like Sir Proteus in the play:</p> +<blockquote><p>Their years but young, but their experience old,<br /> +Their heads unmellowed, but their judgment ripe.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is quite true, that, as my old minister shrewdly said to me, even +the Holy Ghost cannot inspire an experience. No. But a class +of genuine experimental divinity would surely help to foster and develop +an experience. And, till the class is established, any student +who has the heart for it may lay in the best of the class library for +a few shillings. Mr. Thin will tell you that there is no literature +that is such a drug in the market as the best books of Experimental +Divinity. No wonder, then, that we make such slow and short way +in the skilfulness, success, and acceptance of our preaching and our +pastorate.</p> +<p>3. But, at the same time, my brethren, all your ministers’ +experience of personal religion will be lost upon you unless you are +yourselves attending the same school. The salvation of the soul, +you must understand, is not offered to ministers only. Ministers +are not the only men who are, to begin with, dead in trespasses and +sins. The Son of God did not die for ministers only. The +Holy Ghost is not offered to ministers only. A clean, humble, +holy heart is not to be the pursuit of ministers only. It is not +to His ministers only that our Lord says, Take up My yoke and learn +of Me. The daily cross is not the opportunity of ministers only. +It is not to ministers only that tribulation worketh patience, and patience +experience, and experience hope. It was to all who had obtained +like precious faith with their ministers that Peter issued this exhortation +that they were to give all diligence to add to their faith virtue, and +to virtue knowledge, and to knowledge temperance, and to temperance +patience,—and so on. Now, my brethren, unless all that is +on foot in yourselves, as well as in your ministers, then their progress +in Christian experience will only every new Sabbath-day separate you +and your ministers further and further away from one another. +When a minister is really making progress himself in the life of religion +that progress must come out, and ought to come out, both in his preaching +and in his prayers. And, then, two results of all that will immediately +begin to manifest themselves among his people. Some of his people +will visibly, and still more will invisibly, make corresponding progress +with their minister; while some others, alas! will fall off in interest, +in understanding, and in sympathy till at last they drop off from his +ministry altogether. That is an old law in the Church of God: +‘like people like priest,’ and ‘like priest like people.’ +And while there are various influences at work retarding and perplexing +the immediate operation of that law, at the same time, he who has eyes +to see such things in a congregation and in a community will easily +see Hosea’s great law of congregational selection in operation +every day. Like people gradually gravitate to like preachers. +You will see, if you have the eyes, congregations gradually dissolving +and gradually being consolidated again under that great law. You +will see friendships and families even breaking up and flying into pieces; +and, again, new families and new friendships being built up on that +very same law. If you were to study the session books of our city +congregations in the light of that law, you would get instruction. +If you just studied who lifted their lines, and why; and, again, what +other people came and left their lines, and why, you would get instruction. +The shepherds in Israel did not need to hunt up and herd their flocks +like the shepherds in Scotland. A shepherd on the mountains of +Israel had nothing more to do than himself pass up into the pasture +lands and then begin to sing a psalm or offer a prayer, when, in an +instant, his proper sheep were all round about him. The sheep +knew their own shepherd’s voice, and they fled from the voice +of a stranger. And so it is with a true preacher,—a preacher +of experience, that is. His own people know no voice like his +voice. He does not need to bribe and flatter and run after his +people. He may have, he usually has, but few people as people +go in our day, and the better the preacher sometimes the smaller the +flock. It was so in our Master’s case. The multitude +followed after the loaves but they fled from the feeding doctrines, +till He first tasted that dejection and that sense of defeat which so +many of His best servants are fed on in this world. Still, as +our Lord did not tune His pulpit to the taste of the loungers of Galilee, +no more will a minister worth the name do anything else but press deeper +and deeper into the depths of truth and life, till, as was the case +with his Master, his followers, though few, will be all the more worth +having. The Delectable Mountains are wide and roomy. They +roll far away both before and behind. Immanuel’s Land is +a large place, and there are many other shepherds among those hills +and valleys besides Knowledge and Experience and Watchful and Sincere. +And each several shepherd has, on the whole, his own sheep. Knowledge +has his; Experience has his; Watchful has his; and Sincere has his; +and all the other here unnamed shepherds have all theirs also. +For, always, like shepherd like sheep. Yes. Hosea must have +been something in Israel somewhat analogous to a session-clerk among +ourselves. ‘Like priest like people’ is certainly +a digest of some such experience. Let some inquisitive beginner +in Hebrew this winter search out the prophet upon that matter, consulting +Mr. Hutcheson and Dr. Pusey, and he will let me hear the result.</p> +<p>4. Now, my brethren, in closing, we must all keep it clearly +before our minds, and that too every day we live, that God orders and +overrules this whole world, and, indeed, keeps it going very much just +that He may by means of it make unceasing experiment upon His people. +Experiment, you know, results in experience. There is no other +way by which any man can attain to a religious experience but by undergoing +temptation, trial, tribulation:—experiment. And it gives +a divine dignity to all things, great and small, good and bad, when +we see them all taken up into God’s hand, in order that by means +of them He may make for Himself an experienced people. Human life +on this earth, when viewed under this aspect, is one vast workshop. +And all the shafts and wheels and pulleys; all the crushing hammers, +and all the whirling knives; all the furnaces and smelting-pots; all +the graving tools and smoothing irons, are all so many divinely-designed +and divinely-worked instruments all directed in upon this one result,—our +being deeply experienced in the ways of God till we are for ever fashioned +into His nature and likeness. Our faith in the unseen world and +in our unseen God and Saviour is at one time put to the experiment. +At another time it is our love to Him; the reality of it, and the strength +of it. At another time it is our submission and our resignation +to His will. At another time it is our humility, or our meekness, +or our capacity for self-denial, or our will and ability to forgive +an injury, or our perseverance in still unanswered prayer; and so on +the ever-shifting but never-ceasing experiment goes. I do beseech +you, my brethren, take that true view of life home with you again this +night. This true view of life, namely, that experience in the +divine life can only come to you through your being much experimented +upon. Meet all your trials and tribulations and temptations, then, +under this assurance, that all things will work together for good to +you also if you are only rightly exercised by means of them. Nothing +else but this growing experience and this settling assurance will be +able to support you under the sudden ills of life; but this will do +it. This, when you begin by experience to see that all this life, +and all the good and all the ill of this life, are all under this splendid +divine law,—that your tribulations also are indeed working within +you a patience, and your patience an experience, and your experience +a hope that maketh not ashamed.</p> +<h2>WATCHFUL</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Son of man, I have made thee a watchman unto the +house of Israel.’—The word of the Lord to Ezekiel.</p> +<p>‘They watch for your souls.’—The Apostle to the +Hebrews.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There were four shepherds who had the care of Immanuel’s sheep +on the Delectable Mountains, and their names were Knowledge, Experience, +Watchful, and Sincere. Now, in that very beautiful episode of +his great allegory, John Bunyan is doing his very utmost to impress +upon all his ministerial readers how much there is that goes to the +making of a good minister, and how much every good minister has to do. +Each several minister must do all that in him lies, from the day of +his ordination to the day of his death, to be all to his people that +those four shepherds were to Immanuel’s sheep. He is to +labour, in season and out of season, to be a minister of the ripest +possible knowledge, the deepest and widest possible experience, the +most sleepless watchfulness, and the most absolute and scrupulous sincerity. +Now, enough has perhaps been said already about a minister’s knowledge +and his experience; enough, certainly, and more than enough for some +of us to hope half to carry out; and, therefore, I shall at once go +on to take up Watchful, and to supply, so far as I am able, the plainest +possible interpretation of this part of Bunyan’s parable.</p> +<p>1. Every true minister, then, watches, in the words of the +apostle, for the souls of his people. An ordinary minister’s +everyday work embraces many duties and offers many opportunities, but +through all his duties and through all his opportunities there runs +this high and distinctive duty of watching for the souls of his people. +A minister may be a great scholar, he may have taken all sacred learning +for his province, he may be a profound and a scientific theologian, +he may be an able church leader, he may be a universally consulted authority +on ecclesiastical law, he may be a skilful and successful debater in +church courts, he may even be a great pulpit orator, holding thousands +entranced by his impassioned eloquence; but a true successor of the +prophets of the Old Testament and of the apostles of the New Testament +he is not, unless he watches for the souls of men. All these endowments, +and all these occupations, right and necessary as, in their own places, +they all are,—great talents, great learning, great publicity, +great popularity,—all tend, unless they are taken great care of, +to lead their possessors away from all time for, and from all sympathy +with, the watchfulness of the New Testament minister. Watching +over a flock brings to you none of the exhilaration of authority and +influence, none of the intoxication of publicity and applause. +Your experiences are the quite opposite of all these things when you +are watching over your flock. Your work among your flock is all +done in distant and lonely places, on hillsides, among woods and thickets, +and in cloudy and dark days. You spend your strength among sick +and dying and wandering sheep, among wolves and weasels, and what not, +of that verminous kind. At the same time, all good pastors are +not so obscure and forgotten as all that. Some exceptionally able +and exceptionally devoted and self-forgetful men manage to combine both +extremes of a minister’s duties and opportunities in themselves. +Our own Sir Henry Moncreiff was a pattern pastor. There was no +better pastor in Edinburgh in his day than dear Sir Henry was; and yet, +at the same time, everybody knows what an incomparable ecclesiastical +casuist Sir Henry was. Mr. Moody, again, is a great preacher, +preaching to tens of thousands of hearers at a time; but, at the same +time, Mr. Moody is one of the most skilful and attentive pastors that +ever took individual souls in hand and kept them over many years in +mind. But these are completely exceptional men, and what I want +to say to commonplace and limited and everyday men like myself is this, +that watching for the souls of our people, one by one, day in and day +out,—that, above everything else, that, and nothing else,—makes +any man a pastor of the apostolic type. An able man may know all +about the history, the habitat, the various species, the breeds, the +diseases, and the prices of sheep, and yet be nothing at all of a true +shepherd. And so may a minister.</p> +<p>2. Pastoral visitation, combined with personal dealing, is +by far the best way of watching for souls. I well remember when +I first began my ministry in this congregation, how much I was impressed +with what one of the ablest and best of our then ministers was reported +to have testified on his deathbed. Calling back to his bedside +a young minister who had come to see him, the dying man said: ‘Prepare +for the pulpit; above everything else you do, prepare for the pulpit. +Let me again repeat it, should it at any time stand with you between +visiting a deathbed and preparing for the pulpit, prepare for the pulpit.’ +I was immensely impressed with that dying injunction when it was repeated +to me, but I have lived,—I do not say to put my preparation for +the pulpit, such as it is, second to my more pastoral work in my week’s +thoughts, but—to put my visiting in the very front rank and beside +my pulpit. ‘We never were accustomed to much visiting,’ +said my elders to me in their solicitude for their young minister when +he was first left alone with this whole charge; ‘only appear in +your own pulpit twice on Sabbath: keep as much at home as possible: +we were never used to much visiting, and we do not look for it.’ +Well, that was most kindly intended; but it was much more kind than +wise. For I have lived to learn that no congregation will continue +to prosper, or, if other more consolidated and less exacting congregations, +at any rate not this congregation, without constant pastoral attention. +And remember, I do not complain of that. Far, far from that. +For I am as sure as I am of anything connected with a minister’s +life, that a minister’s own soul will prosper largely in the measure +that the souls of his people prosper through his pastoral work. +No preaching, even if it were as good preaching as the apostle’s +itself, can be left to make up for the neglect of pastoral visitation +and personal intercourse. ‘I taught you from house to house,’ +says Paul himself, when he was resigning the charge of the church of +Ephesus into the hands of the elders of Ephesus. What would we +ministers not give for a descriptive report of an afternoon’s +house-to-house visitation by the Apostle Paul! Now in a workshop, +now at a sickbed, now with a Greek, now with a Jew, and, in every case, +not discussing politics and cursing the weather, not living his holidays +over again and hearing of all the approaching marriages, but testifying +to all men in his own incomparably winning and commanding way repentance +toward God and faith toward the Lord Jesus Christ. We city ministers +call out and complain that we have no time to visit our people in their +own houses; but that is all subterfuge. If the whole truth were +told about the busiest of us, it is not so much want of time as want +of intention; it is want of set and indomitable purpose to do it; it +is want of method and of regularity such as all business men must have; +and it is want, above all, of laying out every hour of every day under +the Great Taskmaster’s eye. Many country ministers again,—we, +miserable men that we are, are never happy or well placed,—complain +continually that their people are so few, and so scattered, and so ignorant, +and so uninteresting, and so unresponsive, that it is not worth their +toil to go up and down in remote places seeking after them. It +takes a whole day among bad roads and wet bogs to visit a shepherd’s +wife and children, and two or three bothies and pauper’s hovels +on the way home. ‘On the morrow,’ so runs many an +entry in Thomas Boston’s <i>Memoirs</i>, ‘I visited the +sick, and spent the afternoon in visiting others, and found gross ignorance +prevailing. Nothing but stupidity prevailed; till I saw that I +had enough to do among my handful. I had another diet of catechising +on Wednesday afternoon, and the discovery I made of the ignorance of +God and of themselves made me the more satisfied with the smallness +of my charge . . . Twice a year I catechised the parish, and once a +year I visited their families. My method of visitation was this. +I made a particular application of my doctrine in the pulpit to the +family, exhorted them all to lay all these things to heart, exhorted +them also to secret prayer, supposing they kept family worship, urged +their relative duties upon them,’ etc. etc. And then at +his leaving Ettrick, he writes: ‘Thus I parted with a people whose +hearts were knit to me and mine to them. The last three or four +years had been much blessed, and had been made very comfortable to me, +not in respect of my own handful only, but others of the countryside +also.’ Jonathan Edwards called Thomas Boston ‘that +truly great divine.’ I am not such a judge of divinity as +Jonathan Edwards was, but I always call Boston to myself that truly +great pastor. But my lazy and deceitful heart says to me: No praise +to Boston, for he lived and did his work in the quiet Forest of Ettrick. +True, so he did. Well, then, look at the populous and busy town +of Kidderminster. And let me keep continually before my abashed +conscience that hard-working corpse Richard Baxter. Absolutely +on the same page on which that dying man enters diseases and medicines +enough to fill a doctor’s diary after a whole day in an incurable +hospital, that noble soul goes on to say: ‘I preached before the +wars twice each Lord’s Day, but after the wars but once, and once +every Thursday, besides occasional sermons. Every Thursday evening +my neighbours that were most desirous, and had opportunity, met at my +house. Two days every week my assistant and I myself took fourteen +families between us for private catechising and conference; he going +through the parish, and the town coming to me. I first heard them +recite the words of the Catechism, and then examined them about the +sense, and lastly urged them, with all possible engaging reason and +vehemency, to answerable affection and practice. If any of them +were stalled through ignorance or bashfulness, I forbore to press them, +but made them hearers, and turned all into instruction and exhortation. +I spent about an hour with a family, and admitted no others to be present, +lest bashfulness should make it burdensome, or any should talk of the +weakness of others.’ And then he tells how his people’s +necessity made him practise physic among them, till he would have twenty +at his door at once. ‘All these my employments were but +my recreations, and, as it were, the work of my spare hours. For +my writings were my chiefest daily labour. And blessed be the +God of mercies that brought me from the grave and gave me, after wars +and sickness, fourteen years’ liberty in such sweet employment!’ +Let all ministers who would sit at home over a pipe and a newspaper +with a quiet conscience keep Boston’s <i>Memoirs</i> and Baxter’s +<i>Reliquiae</i> at arm’s-length.</p> +<p>3. Our young communicants’ classes, and still more, those +private interviews that precede and finish up our young communicants’ +classes, are by far our best opportunities as pastors. I remember +Dr. Moody Stuart telling me long ago that he had found his young communicants’ +classes to be the most fruitful opportunities of all his ministry; as, +also, next to them, times of baptism in families. And every minister +who tries to be a minister at all after Dr. Moody Stuart’s pattern, +will tell you something of the same thing. They get at the opening +history of their young people’s hearts before their first communion. +They make shorthand entries and secret memoranda at such a season like +this: ‘A. a rebuke to me. He had for long been astonished +at me that I did not speak to him about his soul. B. traced his +conversion to the singing of ‘The sands of time are sinking’ +in this church last summer. C. was spoken to by a room-mate. +D. was to be married, and she died. Of E. I have great hope. +F., were she anywhere but at home, I would have great hopes of her,’—and +so on. But, then, when a minister takes boldness to turn over +the pages of his young communicants’ roll for half a lifetime—ah +me, ah me! What was I doing to let that so promising communicant +go so far astray, and I never to go after him? And that other. +And that other. And that other. Till we can read no more. +O God of mercy, when Thou inquirest after blood, let me be hidden in +the cleft of that Rock so deeply cleft for unwatchful ministers!</p> +<p>4. And then, as Dr. Joseph Parker says, who says everything +so plainly and so powerfully: ‘There is pastoral preaching as +well as pastoral visitation. There is pastoral preaching; rich +revelation of divine truth; high, elevating treatment of the Christian +mysteries; and he is the pastor to me who does not come to my house +to drink and smoke and gossip and show his littleness, but who, out +of a rich experience, meets me with God’s word at every turn of +my life, and speaks the something to me that I just at that moment want.’ +Let us not have less pastoral visitation in the time to come, but let +us have more and more of such pastoral preaching.</p> +<p>5. But, my brethren, it is time for you, as John said to the +elect lady and her children, to look to yourselves. The salvation +of your soul is precious, and its salvation is such a task, such a battle, +such a danger, and such a risk, that it will take all that your most +watchful minister can do, and all that you can do yourself, and all +that God can do for you, and yet your soul will scarcely be saved after +all. You do not know what salvation is nor what it costs. +You will not be saved in your sleep. You will not waken up at +the last day and find yourself saved by the grace of God and you not +know it. You will know it to your bitter cost before your soul +is saved from sin and death. You and your minister too. +And therefore it is that He Who is to judge your soul at last says to +you, as much as He says it to any of His ministers, Watch! What +I say unto one I say unto all, Watch. Watch and pray, lest you +enter into temptation. Look to yourself, then, sinner. In +Christ’s name, look to yourself and watch yourself. You +have no enemy to fear but yourself. No one can hurt a hair of +your head but yourself. Have you found that out? Have you +found yourself out? Do you ever look in the direction of your +own heart? Have you begun to watch what goes on in your own heart? +What is it to you what goes on in the world around you compared with +what goes on in the world within you? Look, then, to yourself. +Watch, above all watching, yourself. Watch what it is that moves +you to do this or that. Stop sometimes and ask yourself why you +do such and such a thing. Did you ever hear of such a thing as +a motive in a human heart? And did your minister, watching for +your soul, ever tell you that your soul will be lost or saved, condemned +or justified at the last day according to your motives? You never +knew that! You were never told that by your minister! Miserable +pair! What does he take up his Sabbaths with? And what leads +you to waste your Sabbaths and your soul on such a stupid minister? +But, shepherd or no shepherd, minister or no minister, look to yourself. +Look to yourself when you lie down and when you rise up; when you go +out and when you come in; when you are in the society of men and when +you are alone with your own heart. Look to yourself when men praise +you, and look to yourself when men blame you. Look to yourself +when you sit down to eat and drink, and still more when you sit and +speak about your absent brother. Look to yourself when you meet +your enemy or your rival in the street, when you pass his house, or +hear or read his name. Yes, you may well say so. At that +rate a man’s life would be all watching. So it would. +And so it must. And more than that, so it is with some men not +far from you who never told you how much you have made them watch. +Did you never know all that till now? Were you never told that +every Christian man, I do not mean every communicant, but every truly +and sincerely and genuinely Christian man watches himself in that way? +For as the one essential and distinguishing mark of a New Testament +minister is not that he is an able man, or a studious man, or an eloquent +man, but that he is a pastor and watches for souls, so it is the chiefest +and the best mark, and to himself the only safe and infallible mark, +that any man is a sincere and true Christian man, that he watches himself +always and in all things looks first and last to himself.</p> +<h2>SINCERE</h2> +<blockquote><p>‘In all things showing sincerity.’—Paul +to Titus.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Charles Bennett has a delightful drawing of Sincere in Charles Kingsley’s +beautiful edition of <i>The Pilgrim’s Progress</i>. You +feel that you could look all day into those clear eyes. Your eyes +would begin to quail before you had looked long into the fourth shepherd’s +deep eyes; but those eyes of his have no cause to quail under yours. +This man has nothing to hide from you. He never had. He +loves you, and his love to you is wholly without dissimulation. +He absolutely and unreservedly means and intends by you and yours all +that he has ever said to you and yours, and much more than he has ever +been able to say. The owner of those deep blue eyes is as true +to you when he is among your enemies as he is true to the truth itself +when he is among your friends. Mark also the unobtrusive strength +of his mouth, all suffused over as it is with a most winning and reassuring +sweetness. The fourth shepherd of the Delectable Mountains is +one of the very best of Bennett’s excellent portraits. But +Mr. Kerr Bain’s pen-and-ink portrait of Sincere in his <i>People +of the Pilgrimage</i> is even better than Bennett’s excellent +drawing. ‘Sincere is softer in outline and feature than +Watchful. His eye is full-open and lucid, with a face of mingled +expressiveness and strength—a lovable, lowly, pure-spirited man—candid, +considerate, willing, cheerful—not speaking many words, and never +any but true words.’ Happy sheep that have such a shepherd! +Happy people! if only any people in the Church of Christ could have +such a pastor.</p> +<p>It is surely too late, too late or too early, to begin to put tests +to a minister’s sincerity after he has been licensed and called +and is now standing in the presence of his presbytery and surrounded +with his congregation. It is a tremendous enough question to put +to any man at any time: ‘Are not zeal for the honour of God, love +to Jesus Christ, and desire of saving souls your great motives and chief +inducement to enter into the function of the holy ministry?’ +A man who does not understand what it is you are saying to him will +just make the same bow to these awful words that he makes to all your +other conventional questions. But the older he grows in his ministry, +and the more he comes to discover the incurable plague of his own heart, +and with that the whole meaning and full weight of your overwhelming +words, the more will he shrink back from having such questions addressed +to him. Fools will rush in where Moses and Isaiah and Jeremiah +and Peter and Paul feared to set their foot. Paul was to be satisfied +if only he was let do the work of a minister all his days and then was +not at the end made a castaway. And yet, writing to the same church, +Paul says that his sincerity among them had been such that he could +hold up his ministerial life like spotless linen between the eye of +his conscience and the sun. But all that was written and is to +be read and understood as Paul’s ideal that he had honestly laboured +after, rather than as an actual attainment he had arrived at. +Great as Paul’s attainments were in humility, in purity of intention, +and in simplicity and sincerity of heart, yet the mind of Christ was +not so given even to His most gifted apostle, that he could seriously +say that he had attained to such utter ingenuity, simplicity, disengagement +from himself, and surrender to Christ, as to be able to face the sun +with a spotless ministry. All he ever says at his boldest and +best on that great matter is to be read in the light of his universal +law of personal and apostolic imperfection—Not that I have attained, +either am already perfect; but I follow after. And blessed be +God that this is all that He looks for in any of His ministers, that +they follow all their days after a more and more godly sincerity. +It was the apostle’s love of absolute sincerity,—and, especially, +it was his bitter hatred of all the remaining dregs of insincerity that +he from time to time detected in his own heart,—it was this that +gave him his good conscience before a God of pity and compassion, truth +and grace. And with something of the same love of perfect sincerity, +accompanied with something of the same hatred of insincerity and of +ourselves on account of it, we, too, toward this same God of pity and +compassion, will hold up a conscience that would fain be a good conscience. +And till it is a good conscience we shall hold up with it a broken heart. +And that genuine love of all sincerity, and that equally genuine hatred +of all remaining insincerity, will make all our ministerial work, as +it made all Paul’s apostolic work, not only acceptable, but will +also make its very defects and defeats both acceptable and fruitful +in the estimation and result of God. It so happens that I am reading +for my own private purposes at this moment an old book of 1641, Drexilius +<i>On a Right Intention</i>, and I cannot do better at this point than +share with you the page I am just reading. ‘Not to be too +much troubled or daunted at any cross event,’ he says, ‘is +the happy state of his mind who has entered on any enterprise with a +pure and pious intention. That great apostle James gained no more +than eight persons in all Spain when he was called to lay down his head +under Herod’s sword. And was not God ready to give the same +reward to James as to those who converted kings and whole kingdoms? +Surely He was. For God does not give His ministers a charge as +to what they shall effect, but only as to what they shall intend to +effect. Wherefore, when his art faileth a servant of God, when +nothing goes forward, when everything turneth to his ruin, even when +his hope is utterly void, he is scarce one whit troubled; for this, +saith he to himself, is not in my power, but in God’s power alone. +I have done what I could. I have done what was fit for me to do. +Fair and foul is all of God’s disposing.’</p> +<p>And, then, this simplicity and purity of intention gives a minister +that fine combination of candour and considerateness which we saw to +exist together so harmoniously in the character of Sincere. Such +a minister is not tongue-tied with sinister and selfish intentions. +His sincerity toward God gives him a masterful position among his people. +His words of rebuke and warning go straight to his people’s consciences +because they come straight out of his own conscience. His words +are their own witness that he is neither fearing his people nor fawning +upon his people in speaking to them. And, then, such candour prepares +the way for the utmost considerateness when the proper time comes for +considerateness. Such a minister is patient with the stupid, and +even with the wicked and the injurious, because in all their stupidity +and wickedness and injuriousness they have only injured and impoverished +themselves. And if God is full of patience and pity for the ignorant +and the evil and the out of the way, then His sincere-hearted minister +is of all men the very man to carry the divine message of forgiveness +and instruction to such sinners. Yes, Mr. Bain must have seen +Sincere closely and in a clear light when he took down this fine feature +of his character, that he is at once candid and considerate—with +a whole face of mingled expressiveness and strength.</p> +<p>Writing about sincerity and a right intention in young ministers, +old Drexilius says: ‘When I turn to clergymen, I would have sighs +and groans to speak for me. For, alas! I am afraid that there +be found some which come into the ministry, not that they may obtain +a holy office in which to spend their life, but for worse ends. +To enter the ministry with a naughty intention is to come straight to +destruction. Let no minister think at any time of a better living, +but only at all times of a holier life. Wherefore, O ministers +and spiritual men, consider and take heed. There can be no safe +guide to your office but a right, sincere, pure intention. Whosoever +cometh to it with any other conduct or companion must either return +to his former state of life, or here he shall certainly perish . . . +What is more commendable in a religious man than to be always in action +and to be exercised one while in teaching the ignorant, another while +in comforting such as are troubled in mind, sometimes in making sermons, +and sometimes in admonishing the sick? But with what secret malignity +doth a wrong intention insinuate itself into these very actions that +are the most religious! For ofttimes we desire nothing else but +to be doing. We desire to become public, not that we may profit +many, but because we have not learned how to be private. We seek +for divers employments, not that we may avoid idleness, but that we +may come into people’s knowledge. We despise a small number +of hearers, and such as are poor, simple, and rustical, and let fly +our endeavours at more eminent chairs, though not in apparent pursuit; +all which is the plain argument of a corrupt intention. O ye that +wait upon religion, O ministers of God, this is to sell most transcendent +wares at a very low rate—nay, this is to cast them, and yourselves +too, into the fire.’</p> +<p>There are some outstanding temptations to insincerity in some ministers +that must be pointed out here. (1) Ministers with a warm rhetorical +temperament are beset continually with the temptation to pile up false +fire on the altar; to dilate, that is, both in their prayers and in +their sermons, upon certain topics in a style that is full of insincerity. +Ministers who have no real hold of divine things in themselves will +yet fill their pulpit hour with the most florid and affecting pictures +of sacred and even of evangelical things. This is what our shrewd +and satirical people mean when they say of us that So-and-so has a great +<i>sough</i> of the gospel in his preaching, but the <i>sough</i> only. +(2) Another kindred temptation to even the best and truest of ministers +is to make pulpit appeals about the evil of sin and the necessity of +a holy life that they themselves do not feel and do not attempt to live +up to. Butler has a terrible passage on the heart-hardening effects +of making pictures of virtue and never trying to put those pictures +into practice. And readers of Newman will remember his powerful +application of this same temptation to literary men in his fine sermon +on Unreal Words. (3) Another temptation is to affect an interest +in our people and a sympathy with them that we do not in reality feel. +All human life is full of this temptation to double-dealing and hypocrisy; +but, then, it is large part of a minister’s office to feel with +and for his people, and to give the tenderest and the most sacred expression +to that feeling. And, unless he is a man of a scrupulously sincere, +true, and tender heart, his daily duties will soon develop him into +a solemn hypocrite. And if he feels only for his own people, and +for them only when they become and as long as they remain his own people, +then his insincerity and imposture is only the more abominable in the +sight of God. (4) Archbishop Whately, with that strong English +common sense and that cultivated clear-headedness that almost make him +a writer of genius, points out a view of sincerity that it behoves ministers +especially to cultivate in themselves. He tells us not only to +act always according to our convictions, but also to see that our convictions +are true and unbiassed convictions. It is a very superficial sincerity +even when we actually believe what we profess to believe. But +that is a far deeper and a far nobler sincerity which watches with a +strict and severe jealousy over the formation of our beliefs and convictions. +Ministers must, first for themselves and then for their people, live +far deeper down than other men. They must be at home among the +roots, not of actions only, but much more of convictions. We may +act honestly enough out of our present convictions and principles, while, +all the time, our convictions and our principles are vitiated at bottom +by the selfish ground they ultimately stand in. Let ministers, +then, to begin with, live deep down among the roots of their opinions +and their beliefs. Let them not only flee from being consciously +insincere and hypocritical men; let them keep their eye like the eye +of God continually on that deep ground of the soul where so many men +unknown to themselves deceive themselves. And, thus exercised, +they shall be able out of a deep and clean heart to rise far above that +trimming and hedging and self-seeking and self-sheltering in disputed +and unpopular questions which is such a temptation to all men, and is +such a shame and scandal in a minister.</p> +<p>Now, my good friends, we have kept all this time to the fourth shepherd +and to his noble name, but let us look in closing at some of his sheep,—that +is to say, at ourselves. For is it not said in the prophet: Ye +my flock, the flock of my pasture, are men, and I am your God, saith +the Lord God. All, therefore, that has been said about the sincerity +and insincerity of ministers is to be said equally of their people also +in all their special and peculiar walks of life. Sincerity is +as noble a virtue, and insincerity is as detestable a vice, in a doctor, +or a lawyer, or a schoolmaster, or a merchant,—almost, if not +altogether, as much so as in a minister. Your insincerity and +hypocrisy in your daily intercourse with your friends and neighbours +is a miserable enough state of mind, but at the root of all that there +lies your radical insincerity toward God and your own soul. In +his <i>Christian Perfection</i> William Law introduces his readers to +a character called Julius, who goes regularly to prayers, and there +confesses himself to be a miserable sinner who has no health in him; +and yet that same Julius cannot bear to be informed of any imperfection +or suspected to be wanting in any kind or degree of virtue. Now, +Law asks, can there be a stronger proof that Julius is wanting in the +sincerity of his devotions? Is it not as plain as anything can +be that that man’s confessions of sin are only words of course, +a certain civility of sacred speech in which his heart has not a single +atom of share? Julius confesses himself to be in great weakness, +corruption, disorder, and infirmity, and yet he is mortally angry with +you if at any time you remotely and tenderly hint that he may be just +a shade wrong in his opinions, or one hair’s-breadth off what +is square and correct in his actions. Look to yourself, Julius, +and to your insincere heart. Look to yourself at all times, but +above all other times at the times and in the places of your devotions. +Ten to one, my hearer of to-night, you may never have thought of that +before. And what would you think if you were told that this Sincere +shepherd was appointed us for this evening’s discourse, and that +you were led up to this house, just that you might have your attention +turned to your many miserable insincerities of all kinds, but especially +to your so Julius-like devotions? ‘And Nathan said unto +David, Thou art the man. And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned +against the Lord.’</p> +<p>What, then, my truly miserable fellow-sinner and fellow-worshipper, +what are we to do? Am I to give up preaching altogether because +I am continually carried on under the impulse of the pulpit far beyond +both my attainments and my intentions? Am I to cease from public +prayer altogether because when engaged in it I am compelled to utter +words of contrition and confession and supplication that little agree +with the everyday temper and sensibility of my soul? And am I +wholly to eschew pastoral work because my heart is not so absolutely +clean and simple and sincere toward all my own people and toward other +ministers’ people as it ought to be? No! Never! +Never! Let me rather keep my heart of such earth and slag in the +hottest place of temptation, and then, such humiliating discoveries +as are there continually being made to me of myself will surely at last +empty me of all self-righteousness and self-sufficiency, and make me +at the end of my ministry, if not till then, the penitent pastor of +a penitent people. And when thus penitent, then surely, also somewhat +more sincere in my designs and intentions, if not even then in my attainments +and performances.</p> +<p>‘O Eternal God, Who hast made all things for man, and man for +Thy glory, sanctify my body and my soul, my thoughts and my intentions, +my words and my actions, that whatsoever I shall think or speak or do +may be by me designed to the glory of Thy name. O God, turn my +necessities into virtue, and the works of nature into the works of grace, +by making them orderly, regular, temperate, subordinate, and profitable +to ends beyond their own proper efficacy. And let no pride or +self-seeking, no covetousness or revenge, no impure mixtures or unhandsome +purposes, no little ends and low imaginations, pollute my spirit or +unhallow any of my words or actions. But let my body be the servant +of my spirit, and both soul and body servants of my Lord, that, doing +all things for Thy glory here, I may be made a partaker of Thy glory +hereafter; through Jesus Christ, my Lord. Amen.’</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> Delivered +on the Sabbath before Communion.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a> Delivered +June 26th, 1892, on the eve of a general election.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUNYAN CHARACTERS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1885-h.htm or 1885-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/8/1885 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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