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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae176de --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60348 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60348) diff --git a/old/60348-0.txt b/old/60348-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b0e6e1a..0000000 --- a/old/60348-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9592 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir and -Sermons, by William Gray Elmslie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir and Sermons - -Author: William Gray Elmslie - -Editor: W. Robertson Nicoll - A. N. MacNicoll - -Release Date: September 24, 2019 [EBook #60348] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK W. G. ELMSLIE: MEMOIR AND SERMONS *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, Chris Pinfield and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's note: - -Obvious printer errors corrected silently. - -Correspondence included in the 'Memoir' has been indented. A notice of -another book by one of the editors has been shifted to the end. - -Small capitals have been replaced by full capitals. Italics are -indicated by _underscores_. - - - - - [Illustration: - Yours faithfully, - W. G. Elmslie] - - - - - PROFESSOR W. G. ELMSLIE, D.D.: - - _MEMOIR AND SERMONS_. - - EDITED BY - W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D., - AND - A. N. MACNICOLL. - - _SECOND EDITION._ - - London: - HODDER AND STOUGHTON, - 27, PATERNOSTER ROW. - - MDCCCXC. - - -Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. - - - - -ADVERTISEMENT. - - -My share in this book has been the writing of the brief introductory -Memoir, with the exception of the pages relating to Regent Square and -Willesden. These have been contributed by Mr. A. N. Macnicoll, who has -also given me the benefit of his advice throughout. I have also to -acknowledge the kindness of Principal Dykes, who has read the proofs, -and of the friends who have, amid pressing engagements, enriched the -volume with their reminiscences. The many correspondents who sent help -of various kinds are warmly thanked. There was abundant material for a -larger biography, and some of it will be utilised in another way. But it -was thought desirable that the memorial volume should be issued at a -moderate price, and that it should, so far as possible, consist of -Professor Elmslie's own work. - -W. R. N. - - * * * * * - -For the selections from Dr. Elmslie's sermons which are contained in -this volume I am entirely responsible. These sermons were seldom fully -written out, and some of them required considerable amplification. In -every case the thought of the writer has been rigidly preserved, and the -wording has been left, as far as possible, untouched. In cases where I -have had the benefit of short-hand reports I have, with the slightest -alteration, printed the sermons as they were delivered. Two "Sunday -Readings" are reprinted from _Good Words_, and an article on Genesis -from the _Contemporary Review_. - -A. N. M. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -MEMOIR 1 - - -SERMONS. - - I. - CHRIST AT THE DOOR 81 - - "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and - open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he - with Me."—REV. iii. 20. - - - II. - THE DARK ENIGMA OF DEATH 92 - - ST. JOHN xi. - - - III. - THE STORY OF DORCAS 108 - - ACTS ix. 36-43. - - - IV. - UNFULFILLED CHRISTIAN WORK 118 - - "And unto the angel of the Church in Sardis write; These things saith - He that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know thy - works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. Be - watchful and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: - for I have not found thy works perfect before God."—REV. iii. 1, 2. - - Reading the last clause a little more literally will more fully bring - out the meaning: "For I have found no works of thine fulfilled before - my God."—R.V. - - - V. - A LESSON IN CHRISTIAN HELP 133 - - "Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the [en]∆feeble[d] - knees; and make straight [smooth] paths for [with] your feet, lest that - which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed - [or, in order that that which is lame may not be caused to go astray, - but may rather be healed]."—HEB. xii. 12, 13. - - - VI. - JOSEPH'S FAITH 149 - - (_Preached on Sunday Evening, October 20th, 1889, in St. John's Wood - Presbyterian Church._) - - "By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the - children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his - bones."—HEB. xi. 22. - - - VII. - THE BRAZEN SERPENT 162 - - "He [Hezekiah] removed the high places, and brake the images, and cut - down the groves, and brake in pieces the brasen serpent that Moses had - made: for unto those days the children of Israel did burn incense to - it: and he called it Nehushtan."—2 KINGS xviii. 4. - - - VIII. - THE GRADATIONS OF DOUBT 175 - - PSALM lxxiii. - - - IX. - THE STORY OF QUEEN ESTHER 192 - - (_Preached in Balham Congregational Church, on Sunday Evening, August - 11th, 1889._) - - ESTHER iv. 13-17. - - - X. - THE EXAMPLE OF THE PROPHETS 205 - - "Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the - Lord, for an example."—JAMES v. 10. - - - XI. - THE MAKING OF A PROPHET 220 - - (_Preached at Nottingham, before the Congregational Union of England - and Wales, on Monday Evening, October 8th, 1888._) - - "In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a - throne, high and lifted up, and His train overspreading the temple - floor. Seraphs were poised above, each with six wings, with twain - veiling his face, with twain veiling his feet, and with twain hovering. - And those on one side sang in responsive chorus with those on the other - side, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. The fulness of - the whole earth is His glory.' And the foundations of the threshold - trembled at the sound of that singing, and the house was filled with - incense smoke. Then cried I, 'Woe is me! for I am a dead man; because I - am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of - unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.' - Then flew one of the seraphs unto me, having in his hand a burning - ember, which with a tongs he had taken from off the incense altar; and - he touched my mouth with it, and said, 'Lo, this hath touched thy lips; - and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.' Thereupon I - heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will - go for us?' Then I cried, 'See me; send me.'"—ISAIAH vi. 1-8 - (_annotated_). - - - XII. - FOR AND AGAINST CHRIST 230 - - "He that is not with Me is against Me: and he that gathereth not with - Me scattereth."—LUKE xi. 23. - - "He that is not against us is on our part."—MARK ix. 40. - - - XIII. - THE PROPHECY OF NATURE 240 - - "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the - stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man, that Thou art mindful of - him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For Thou hast made him - a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and - honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy hands; - Thou hast put all things under his feet."—PSALM viii. 3-6. - - "But now we see not yet all things put under Him."—HEB. ii. 8. - - - XIV. - CHRISTIAN GIVING 248 - - (_Preached in Willesden Presbyterian Church, September 24th, - 1882._) - - "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting - of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to - God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. - Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always - abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your - labour is not in vain in the Lord."—1 COR. xv. 55-8. - - "Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to - the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week - let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, - that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, whomsoever ye - shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your - liberality unto Jerusalem."—1 COR. xvi. 1-3. - - - XV. - OUR LORD'S TREATMENT OF ERRING FRIENDS 267 - - SUNDAY READINGS. - - I. Read Ps. cxxxviii., and John xiii. 1-17. THE SELF-ASSERTING.—John - xiii. 4, 5. - - II. Read Job xvi., and Matt. xxvi. 31-46. THE UNSYMPATHETIC.—John xiii. - 1-3. - - III. Read 2 Sam. xxiv., and John xxi. 15-23. THE WILFUL.—John xiii. - 6-10. - - IV. Read 1 Sam. xxiv., and Luke xxii. 47-62. THE FAITHLESS.—John xiii. - 11. - - V. Read Isa. xl., and 1 Cor. xiii. THE SECRET OF MAGNANIMITY.—John - xiii. 12-17. - - - XVI. - A HYMN OF HEART'S EASE 284 - - SUNDAY READINGS. - - "Lord, my heart is not haughty, - Nor mine eyes lofty: - Neither do I exercise myself in great matters, - Or in things too high for me. - Surely I have behaved - And quieted myself; - As a child that is weaned of its mother, - My soul is even as a weaned child. - Let Israel hope in the Lord - From henceforth and for ever."—Ps. cxxxi. - - I. Read Job xxvi., and 1 Cor. xiii. THE SOURCE OF UNREST. - "Things too high for me." - - II. Read Ps. xxxvii., and Matt. xi. THE SECRET OF REST. - "Lord my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty." - - III. Read Ps. lxxiii. and Heb. xii. CALM AFTER STORM. - "Surely I have behaved and quieted myself." - - IV. Read Ps. xlvii. and Phil. ii. VICTORY BY SURRENDER. - "As a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned - child." - - V. Read Gen. xxxii. and Rev. vii. THE RECOMPENSE OF FAITH. - "Let Israel hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever." - - - XVII. - THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS 302 - - - - -MEMOIR. - - -Although Dr. Elmslie was not destined to a long career, and died with -the greater purposes of his life work almost entirely unfulfilled, very -few men in the Nonconformist churches of Great Britain were better known -and loved. The expectations of many in his native Scotland were fixed on -him from the first; in England no preacher of his years had a larger or -more enthusiastic following. Among students of the Old Testament he was -beginning to be known as a master in his own subject, and as one likely -to accomplish much in the reconciliation of criticism and faith. Add to -this that he possessed the rarer charm of an almost unique personal -magnetism—that many were attached to him by the chain which is not -quickly broken, the bond of spiritual affinity, and it becomes necessary -to apologise only for the imperfections, not for the existence, of this -memorial. - - * * * * * - -WILLIAM GRAY ELMSLIE was born in the Free Church Manse of Insch, -Aberdeenshire, October 5th, 1848, the second son of the Rev. William -Elmslie, M.A., and May Cruickshank, his wife. Writing to his parents -from Berlin more than twenty years after, he says, "How thankful I ought -to be that I was born in dear old Scotland, and in the humble little -Free Church manse of Insch!" His father was famous for his shrewd, -homely, genial wisdom. He was a native of Aberdeen, and had the strong -sense and quick perception for which Aberdonians are known. By no means -without the nobler enthusiasms of Christianity, he had shared in the -fervour of the Disruption movement, and was the popular and successful -minister of a congregation large for the district, and including many -members of earnest Christian principle. Mr. Elmslie was the father and -counsellor of the whole parish; his advice was sought by members of all -Churches, and cheerfully given. If there was any danger of his practical -nature becoming somewhat too hard and worldly, the influence of his wife -was a corrective. Dr. Elmslie's mother—a beautiful and accomplished -woman—was a religious enthusiast. "I recognised," writes her son, from -the New College, Edinburgh, "mamma's review in the _Free Press_ by the -words 'wrestling believing prayer.'" They were indeed characteristic, -and it was the rare union of mystic elevation and warmth with perfect -comprehension of ordinary life that gave Dr. Elmslie his separate and -commanding place among the teachers of his time. The austerity, the -somewhat chilly rigour which characterised manse life in the Free Church -were not found at Insch. The children never suffered from the want of -affection—what the French call _le besoin d'être aimé_. All the best was -brought out in them, and in the case of our subject the brightness and -sweetness of his disposition procured for him more than ordinary -endearments. Two lovingly preserved letters in a large round child's -hand give a better idea of the home than anything I can say. The first -describes a visit to Huntly and the home of Duncan Matheson, the great -evangelist, who did yeoman service in the Crimean War. - - "INSCH, _July 14th, 1856_. - - "MY DEAR MAMMA,—I am always glad when I hear that you are all keeping - well. I have such a long string of news that I do not know where to - begin, for I was at Huntly, and saw so many things there. I will now - tell you the most of what I saw. I first saw the Bogie, and a few sheep - being washed in it. When I arrived at Huntly, and had walked a short - distance, Mr. Matheson and I met his dog Dash. When I got to the house - I was first shown the Bugle, then the Drum, and three swords; one was - broken after killing five Russians, and the man who had used it killed. - And then I saw the Rifle, and fired it off, though without shot. When I - got out of the house I went to a shop where I bought a gun and Almonds, - and on our way home Miss Matheson and I called on the Lawsons, and - brought Johny and Jamie home, where we met William Brown, with his Aunt - Mrs. Douglas, waiting us. When we went into the house there were two - pistols which William and I took, and frightened some boys with them. I - saw a piece of the rock of Gibralter. I saw a piece of wood made into - stone, and two teeth—one a shark's, and the other an Alligator's— - hardened into stone. There were medals and coins of the various - countries of Europe, a piece of a church in Sevastopool, and a thing - which the Russian soldiers wear on their coats. I also saw a brush - which the Turks use for brushing themselves. I also saw an idol and a - great many pictures of the Virgin Mary. I saw a small picture-book with - all the different priests of Rome. Our Rabbits are all quite well and - growing. I am your affᵗᵉ Son, - - "WILLIAM GRAY ELMSLIE." - - "MY DEAR MAMA,—I am glad to hear that Papa is keeping better. How I - would like to be with you, and see the beautiful scenery and the many - rabbits. Tell our cousins to come here some time soon, and let them - see our rabbits if they will come. I send some Heather and some broom - which we got on the hill beside John Davison, and took tea with him. I - enclose what I got down of the forenoon sermon. I am your affᵗᵉ son, - - "W. G. ELMSLIE." - - P.S.—We sometimes receive to small dinners, but sometimes pretty good. - - "W. G. ELMSLIE." - -The religious forces of the time were those of that Evangelicalism which -has been the base of so many powerful characters, even among those who -have afterwards rejected it, like Cardinal Newman and George Eliot. -These were reinforced by the influences of the Disruption, then at their -strongest. It was something to be born at such a time, a time when, to -use the words of Lacordaire, there was a noble union of heroic character -and memorable achievement. The pecuniary poverty and spiritual opulence -of Scotland, on which Carlyle has said so much, were then seen at their -best. If a cautious, reticent race, impatient of extravagant action and -unmeasured speech, is to be found anywhere, it is among the peasants of -Aberdeenshire; but when possessed and stirred by religious feeling they -are capable of unyielding firmness and unstinted devotion. These -qualities were remarkably brought out at the Disruption. The religious -life of New England, pictured by Harriet Beecher Stowe, must have been -similar in many things, and Dr. George Macdonald, who was born in -Huntly, a few miles from Insch, has rendered some aspects with -incomparable beauty and tenderness in his first works. The preaching was -intensely theological. The great highways of truth were trodden and -retrodden. Texts were largely taken from the Epistles, and the doctrines -of grace were accurately and thoroughly expounded. Freshness, style, and -the other qualities now held essential to popular sermons were unknown. -But the preaching did its work, nevertheless, as Dr. Macdonald says, -because it _was_ preaching—the rare speech of a man to his fellows, -whereby they know that he is in his inmost heart a believer. As the -result, every conscience hung out the pale or the red flag. Dr. -Macdonald complains of the inharmonious singing, but others will testify -with Mrs. Stowe that the slow, rude, and primitive rendering of the -metrical Psalms excited them painfully. "It brought over one, like a -presence, the sense of the infinite and the eternal, the yearning, and -the fear, and the desire of the poor finite being, so ignorant and so -helpless." Not less impressive was the piety to be found among the -peasants. There were David Elginbrods in their ranks, men among whom you -felt in the presence of the higher natures of the world—and women -delivered from lonely, craving solitude by the Eternal Love that had -broken through and ended the dark and melancholy years. These were to be -found not only among the prominent Church members, but among others -willing to be unknown, to be stones sunk in the foundation of the -spiritual building. Under such influences the boy became a Christian -almost unconsciously. There was no crisis in his life, that I can trace. -When a mere boy he writes to his parents, during their absence from -Insch, that he had conducted family worship according to their desire. -"It required a great deal of previous thought and prayer, too, for I -have found that is useful, and not study only, in preparing for the -service of God. Yet I have good cause to be glad and thankful that I am -able to do it; and I feel it a real relief and privilege to commit all -to the care of God." At this time he visited an aged member of his -father's Church, and prayed with her. He repeats with pride the -compliment paid him in return, "Ye ken hoo to be kind and couthy wi' a -puir auld body." His faith and vision grew clearer, but in cruder shape -those thoughts were his from the beginning that haunted him to the very -end. - -The intellectual atmosphere of the place was much more quickening than -might be thought. Insch is a cosy little village enough, and though not -in itself beautiful, has picturesque bits near it. But even in summer -sunshine it can hardly be called lively, and in winter, when the snow is -piled for weeks on hill and field, and the leaden-coloured clouds refuse -to part, it could not well look duller. But the Free Church manses of -the district were full of eager inquiry. The ministers were educated -men, graduates of the University, and in some cases had swept its -prizes. Their ambition was satisfied in the service of Christ. There was -a noble contentment with their lot which it is inspiring to think of; -but they cherished a righteous ambition for their children, and spared -no toil and no self-denial to open the way for them. From three Free -Church manses in that neighbourhood, all at first included in the same -Presbytery, have gone forth men whose names are familiar to the English -people. From the manse of Keig, Professor Robertson Smith; from Rhynie, -Mr. A. M. Mackay, of Uganda, the true successor to Livingstone, whose -early death is announced as these sheets are passing through the press; -and from Insch, Professor Elmslie. The educational facilities of the -district were of almost ideal excellence. The parish teachers, when -salaries were increased by certain wise and liberal bequests, were -almost without exception accomplished scholars. They took pride in a -promising pupil, and would cheerfully work extra hours to ensure his -success. Their fees were sufficiently moderate, one pound being enough -to cover all expenses for a year. At these schools a boy might remain -till he had reached the age, say, of fourteen or fifteen, when he might -go to Aberdeen to compete for a scholarship, or "bursary" as it was -called. Of these, perhaps forty were offered every year, varying from -£35 a year for the University course, downwards. It was thought wiser to -go for the last year or two to the Grammar School in Aberdeen, to -receive the last polish; but often lads went in from their native glens, -and defeated all competitors. Elmslie was trained at first in the Free -Church school at Insch, then at the parish school, under the Rev. James -McLachlan. He then proceeded to the Aberdeen Grammar School, where he -was two years, under the Rev. William Barrack, a teacher of rare -attainments and enthusiasm. He carried off one of the highest honours, -and in 1864 entered the University of Aberdeen. - -It is, or was, the ambition of every hopeful youth in the North to wear -the student's gown. "Oh that God would spare me to wear the red -cloakie!" said John Duncan, afterwards the well-known Professor of -Hebrew in the New College, Edinburgh, when weakened by an early illness. -The life of the Aberdeen student has never, perhaps, been rendered with -sufficient fidelity, save in "Alec Forbes," and Dr. Walter Smith's -"Borland Hall," and it may have changed in some respects since Elmslie's -time. Then it was emphatically a period of plain living and hard work. -Eight shillings a week sufficed to cover many a student's expenses for -board and lodging, amounting to less than £10 for the twenty weeks of -the session, and the summer was spent at home. The spirit of the place -was democratic in the extreme. There were a few students who came out of -wealthy families, but any claim to respect on this ground would have -been fiercely resented. George Macdonald tells of an aristocrat among -the students condemned and sentenced by a meeting presided over by "the -pale-faced son of a burly ploughman." The high spirits of youth would at -times break out in coarse and even ferocious excesses, but these were -rare, and the characteristic of the place was a limitless persistency of -application. Most of the men felt that this was their one chance. If -they could distinguish themselves, there were scholarships to be had -which would open the path to Oxford or Cambridge, or give them a fair -chance in other fields of life. Some yielded to temptation, and became -wrecks; others, after a period of obscuration, recovered themselves; a -few soon abandoned the quest for University honours, and busied -themselves with other lines of reading and study; but Elmslie set -himself, without flinching or turning aside, to his task. Evil did not -lure him. There was no stamp of moral _défaillance_ on that clear brow. -His watchful parents were still with him, for they set up another home -in Aberdeen, and were constantly with their children. It ought, perhaps, -to be mentioned that Elmslie's father was an enthusiastic total -abstainer, in days when the practice was quite unfashionable, and in -many parts of the country entirely unknown. In this his son warmly -sympathised, maintaining the principle of abstinence to the end of his -life, and carrying out the practice even during his studies in Germany. -He wrote home, when assistant in Regent Square, "Glad you are getting on -so famously in the temperance line, and do hope it will have a permanent -and wide influence." But the secret of his University success was his -indefatigable labour at the prescribed tasks. Although he might well be -termed _l'esprit soudain_, he was capable of the long-continued and -daily application which belongs to the rare union of ardour and -patience. He had the characteristic of his countrymen—nothing could -daunt him from fighting the battle out. His success accordingly was -great and growing. In a class which numbered, perhaps, an unusual -proportion of brilliant men, he steadily made his way to the front. He -distinguished himself by taking prizes in almost every department of -study, specially excelling in mathematics, and closed his career by -carrying off the gold medal awarded by the Aberdeen Town Council to the -first student of the year, in April, 1868. The victory was not gained -without a price. From the first his studies brought on some occasional -headaches, and the first triumph resulted in a serious illness, which -his wise and skilful physician, Dr. Davidson, of Wartle, warned him -would reappear twenty years later—an ominous prophecy, which was but too -exactly fulfilled. The chief intellectual force in the Northern -University at that time and long after was Dr. Alexander Bain, the -Professor of Logic. In after life Dr. Elmslie frequently referred to his -influence. But other chairs were also occupied by powerful men. Geddes -infected many with his own enthusiasm for Greek literature; Fuller and -Thomson were admirably efficient teachers of mathematics; and to name no -more, "Jeems" Nicol, the Professor of Natural History, with his hoarse -voice, his homely kindness, and his thorough knowledge of his subject, -was a universal favourite. Thomson was, perhaps, the most original and -cynical character of them all, and his dry wit had a great attraction -for Elmslie. - -The Rev. Thomas Nicol, of Tolbooth, Edinburgh, a distinguished minister -of the Church of Scotland and one of the most outstanding of Professor -Elmslie's classfellows, wrote thus to his father: "Since Dr. Elmslie's -death I have often gone back to the days, just twenty-five years ago, -when we first met at the bursary competition, and in the Bageant class -at King's College, Aberdeen. Even from the first he was one of the most -winsome and attractive members of the class, full of fun and mirth, with -a perennial smile on his beautiful and finely formed face, and with a -cheery word for everybody. I can see him to-day, with his neat Highland -cape and the college gown over it, coming through the quadrangle, as -distinctly as if it were yesterday, and it is easier for me preserving -that picture because we have met so seldom of recent years. He is -associated in my mind with another of our classfellows, who achieved -distinction early, and early met an heroic and tragic death—I mean Mr. -William Jenkyns, C.I.E., who died with Sir Louis Cavagnari, at Cabul. -Your son and he were unlike in some things, but in delicacy of features, -and expressiveness of countenance, and slimness of figure one associates -them at once together. When I was helping to get up funds for the -memorial of Mr. Jenkyns now in the University Library at Aberdeen I well -remember the cheerfulness with which Mr. Elmslie contributed, and the -kindly words of affection and esteem which accompanied his contribution. -Of both it might most truly be said that 'being made perfect, in a short -time they fulfilled a long time.' Like others of my classfellows, Mr. -Bruce, our first Bursar, now minister of Banff, W. L. Davidson, LL.D., -minister of Bourtie, and our mutual friend John Smith, of Broughton -Place Church here, and many more, I watched your son's career with the -deepest interest, and as I have said, took quite a pride in the career -of usefulness and honour which by his ability and hard work he shaped -for himself in London. We really felt as if he were our own somehow, and -as if we had a share in all the honours he was gaining, both as a -literary and as a public man." The Rev. W. A. Gray, of Elgin, who was -brought up in a neighbouring Free Church manse, says, "What -characterised him then was his intense sense of fun, his perception of -the comic side of things, especially in regard to people, and his -never-failing stock of anecdotes, almost always humorous, never -malicious." Coming several years after Elmslie to the University of -Aberdeen, I only knew him from a distance. To an outsider his prominent -quality was winsomeness. There was no jealousy in Aberdeen of fairly won -success; if there had been, Elmslie would have disarmed it. Then, as -always, he took his victories with the utmost simplicity. He was always -humble, with the humility which is very consistent with strenuous effort -and even great ambition. - -The sons of Free Church ministers in those days, however great their -University successes might have been, generally desired no higher -position than that of their fathers. It was, no doubt, the wish of his -parents that Elmslie should be a minister, and his inclination fell in -with that. At the same time there were counter-inducements; for one, -many Aberdeen students had been winning high distinction at Cambridge, -the senior wranglership having fallen to some of them, and his teacher -and some of his relatives were anxious that he should try his fortunes -there. He had himself a strong bent to the medical profession. Whatever -line he had taken in life he would have been successful. A well-known -revivalist preacher, also a professional man, is understood to have -counselled him to go in for a business life. One who knew him well has -remarked to me, since his death, that his true pre-eminence would have -been shown in a scientific career. But his life, and especially its -closing years, made it plain that his own choice was wise. - -A new era opened for him when he went as a theological student to the -New College, Edinburgh. The Free Church possesses a theological seminary -in Aberdeen which assuredly did not lack for able Professors, but the -number of students is small, and the more ambitious men usually go to -Edinburgh. In Edinburgh the Free Church College (known as New College) -had for its first Principal Dr. Chalmers, and in succession Dr. -Cunningham and Dr. Candlish, the three greatest of the Disruption -worthies. It had also some notable men among its Professors. When -Elmslie went up Candlish was at the head. His appearances were only -occasional, as he was also minister of Free St. George's, Edinburgh. But -although his contribution to the vitality of the New College was -necessarily small, it was real. Mr. Gray writes: "He gave no lectures, -his work being confined to the examining and criticising of the -students' discourses. There was always a considerable interest in these -criticisms, and a good turn out to hear them. They were usually strongly -put, both in the direction of censure and of praise; but any one who -knew the Doctor's methods, and made allowance for vigour of phrase, -could depend on a true and perceptive estimate of the merits or demerits -of a sermon. Sometimes he could be savage enough. Fancy a man tomahawked -with the following, delivered with the well-known burr, flash of eye, -and protrusion of underlip: 'All I have got to say about this discourse -is' (raising his voice) 'that one half should be struck out, and' -(lowering it again) 'it doesn't matter which half.' This may have -compared with another historic criticism, attributed to Dr. Cunningham -when addressing the author of a certain Latin thesis: 'Of this discourse -I have only to say two things—the writer has murdered the Latin tongue, -and perverted the glorious Gospel of Christ.' But Candlish was one of -the kindest of men. How well I remember the little figure, with the gold -spectacles flashing beneath the big hat; the loosely fitting coat; the -wide trousers, lapping two or three inches above the shoes, which were -usually set off by a foot of loose lace; the gruff greeting, which -usually changed into a warm, hearty smile if he were accosted." - -Among the Professors, Elmslie evidently appreciated Dr. Davidson and Dr. -Rainy, while conscious of receiving benefit from others. The longest -personal sketch he ever wrote was an article on Professor Davidson in -the _Expositor_ (January, 1888). In this he says, "His singular and -significant influence does not consist in what he does, but in what he -is. It is not the quantity or the contents, but the quality and kind of -the thinking. It is not even the thought, so much as the mind that -secretes it. It is not its clearness nor its profundity, not its reserve -nor its passion, not its scepticism nor its superiority of spiritual -faith; but it is the combination of all these, and the strange, subtle, -and fascinating outcome of them. The central and sovereign spring of Dr. -Davidson's unique influence in the literature, scholarship, and ministry -of the Church is his personality.... If the Church of Christ within our -borders should pass through the present trial of faith without panic, -without reactionary antagonism to truth, and without loss of spiritual -power, a very large part of the credit will belong to the quiet but -commanding influence of the Hebrew chair in that college which rises so -picturesquely on the ancient site of Mary of Guise's palace in -Edinburgh." Of Dr. Rainy he has nowhere written at length, but he was -wont to speak of his "smouldering passion," and the great ideas with -which he inspired the receptive among his students. Dr. Elmslie, though -resolute and even daring on occasion, was a warm admirer of -statesmanship, and Dr. Rainy's skilful piloting of the Free Church -through many troubles he would often praise, emphasizing strongly, at -the same time, his belief in the Principal's perfect honesty and -singleness of purpose. - -There are many kind allusions in his letters to Dr. Blaikie, to whom he -was specially grateful for having introduced him to practical mission -work. In this he was always intensely interested, maintaining that on -this ground the true battle of Christ must be fought. - -"Blaikie gave us a capital lecture, its only fault being that there was -too much matter, so that we could not get down even a mere abstract of -the substance." - - "EDINBURGH, 1868. - - "Things are still going on capitally. At the hall Davidson is most - admirable, and Blaikie every day coming out even better and better. For - instance, speaking of the fondness the early apologists displayed at - pointing not to the lives, but to the deaths of Christians, he added, - 'And indeed, gentlemen, I cannot help saying that in the course of my - experience as a minister I have always noticed the hush and breathless - attention such a subject ever commands, and I have found nothing make a - deeper impression, or act more powerfully as a means of producing good, - than a description of a triumphant death-bed.' This is practical, true, - and useful." - -Elmslie threw himself with intense energy into the work of his classes. -At first he found it difficult to maintain the place he had achieved at -Aberdeen, for he had able competitors, but his unweariable diligence and -quick apprehension soon put him at the head. - -In one of his earliest letters from Edinburgh he writes, "On Wednesday -evening I did first copy of my essay with a headache coming on, which -came on with such heartiness that I went to bed, and I could not go to -college on Thursday. (N.B. It is remarkable that when I have no mamma to -nurse me my headaches never come to such extremes as they do when I have -a fall-back. This one was bad enough, but not one of the desperate -kind.)" - -There was only one cure for these headaches, and he could never bring -himself to take it. It would be tedious to go over the story of his -successes. By this time his younger brother, Leslie, had entered the -University of Edinburgh, where his triumphs were scarcely less than -those of his senior at the New College. So used did the household at -Insch become to telegrams announcing new prizes and scholarships, that -at certain periods of the year the faithful mother had telegrams of -congratulation already filled up, waiting to be despatched. - -Many students of theology are more impressed by the preaching they hear -than by their Professors, and Edinburgh has always been known for pulpit -eloquence. But it was the reverse with Elmslie. No preacher seems to -have had any great power over him. He attended the Free High Church, -then ministered to by Mr. William Arnot; but though he admitted the -freshness and fertility of the preacher's mind, he was not a warm -admirer of his sermons. He often listened to Dr. Charles J. Brown, in -the Free New North, and liked him: "he seems such a fine-hearted man." -One day he went to hear a fellow-student, and missed the way to the -church. He turned aside into the Barclay Church, where Mr. (now Dr.) -Wilson was preaching. "I like Mr. Wilson very much. He is thoroughly -practical, both in his preaching and in his prayers. For instance, in -the one after the chapter he prayed for boys and girls at school, that -they might be helped with their lessons when they were difficult, and -that they might learn obedience and courtesy and be made blessings to -their teachers; also for those persons who had not had a good training -in their youth, and felt it now in showing a good example to the -children, and especially for those parents and children who were -troubled with bad tempers." After remarking on the great predominance of -young people in the congregation, he says that the sermon was delivered -with a great deal of energy and action, and that the idea of the -preacher seemed to be to bring religion down on the every-day life, that -it might become the motive power in work. "On coming out I accosted an -intelligent-looking man, and said, 'Was that Mr. Wilson?' 'Yes,' he -said, and added, with a proud smile, 'And didn't you like him?' I -answered, 'Very much indeed,' whereupon he looked exceedingly gratified -and prouder than ever. I wish there were more such pride." - -On another occasion he writes, "At present I had sooner hear Dr. -Candlish than any one. He is so strong and honest, and wide in his -sympathies. His address to the students was full of passion and feeling, -and sympathy with the difficulty of believing some of our Calvinistic -doctrines, such as eternal ruin, heathens' doom, etc. He went a very -great length indeed, and ended by saying it was too hard for him, and -his heart drew him the other way, and all he could do was to fall back -on his loyalty to Christ. It was more a picture of his own heart's -struggles than the Principal's address." But his usual note is, "Heard -————, in ———— Church: middling." - -In 1871 he gained the Hamilton Scholarship in a most brilliant manner, -his marks being so extraordinary that as they came in the secretary of -the Senatus thought there must be some mistake. His fellow-students, he -writes, were overwhelmingly kind in their congratulations, and he -himself seems to have rejoiced in this success more than in any other of -his life. One thing was that in his after-work he would not have the -same amount of anxiety and despair that weighed him down in his -preparations. But the chief thing was the joy it would give at home. "I -need not tell you," he writes to his mother, "how _sweet_ your letter -was to me, telling me of your joy on receipt of the telegram. When no -letter came in the morning you cannot think how disappointed I was, for, -to confess the truth, I had been thinking all Sabbath of the pleasure of -reading the home letters, and in them getting the real joy of the -scholarship. For, except the pleasure of knowing the gladness caused at -home, there is not much satisfaction otherwise in it. It is strange how -soon, after the first surprise of getting it, the delight of getting it -passed away, and I think there was more enjoyment in the working for it -than in the having it." - -This incident may stand as typical of many others, and of his prominent -place among men not a few of whom were of real mark. His comradeships -among the students filled a large place in his life. Of all his friends -the most intimate and best loved was Mr. Andrew Harper, now Lecturer on -Hebrew in Ormond College, Melbourne. I regret much that exigencies of -time make it impossible to include, for the present at least, any of his -letters to this brother of his heart. They were always together, for -ever disputing, and never quarrelling, very close to one another in -heart and mind. Two years before Dr. Elmslie's death Mr. Harper visited -this country. The friends resumed their ancient intercourse, visited -Switzerland in company, and found that the changes of the years had only -drawn them nearer. Some of the best life in the New College has always -been found in the Theological Society—an association of the students who -gather to discuss controverted questions, and do not fear to go into -them thoroughly. These meetings were greatly relished by Elmslie. Among -the leading members in his time was Professor Robertson Smith, whose -amazing keenness in debate is often admiringly mentioned in his letters -home. The first time Elmslie spoke in the Society was in connection with -a discussion whether the Free Church should return to the Establishment -on the abolition of patronage. He took the negative side, and was -complimented on both sides for the ability and ingenuity of his speech. -The speculative daring in the Society at a time when outside the old -orthodoxy was hardly questioned partly amused and partly pleased him. He -speaks of entertaining Dr. Davidson very much by telling him that the -men at the Theological fathered all their heresies on Dr. Candlish's -"Fatherhood of God," by, as they expressed it, carrying out its -principles to their logical conclusions. The subjects themselves, -however, were the main thing and took abiding possession of his heart. -"I intend," he says, "to still go on studying these themes of Christ -more deeply, for they have interested me intensely. By the way, I -believe what will be of more value to me than the scholarship, and also -far more satisfactory, is the feeling I have that in preparing for it I -have made an immense addition to my knowledge in several departments, -and done it so thoroughly that it will never pass away. Two subjects -have so interested me that I mean to go on studying them—namely, the -Person of Christ, and the Early Apostolic Church." - -On his work and influence at New College the letters of Professor -Drummond and Dr. Stalker will give a distinct impression, but I cannot -leave the subject without giving room to what was almost before -everything with him—his work among the poor, and especially among their -children. They show the brilliant and courted student in another light, -and it is worth mentioning that the larger proportion of his letters -home is made up of such stories. His pupils in the ragged school greatly -interested him, and his letters from Edinburgh are largely filled with -picturesque incidents of his experience among them. - -Edinburgh seemed to him more terrible in its undress than Aberdeen. "I -never saw such miserable squalid faces, intermingled with roughs and -coarse-looking women." There was a humorous side to it, also, which he -does not fail to give account of. One day in the Sunday-school a little -boy behind indulged in an occasional pull at his coat-tail, or a -facetious poke at his back, to all of which demonstrations he preserved -an appearance of utter unconsciousness. When the school was over, and -they were waiting their turn to get out, he turned round and said, not -with a very ferocious countenance, "Now, which of you young rascals was -pulling at my tails?" Of course, this occasioned immense amusement, and -one bright-eyed little fellow said it could not have been so. - -"Oh, well," he said, "it is strange; I wonder if the forms could have -done it." This was a very tickling idea, and immediately the little -fellow said, "Sir, I gave you a poke." He said, "That is honest, now, -and I suppose some other one took the tails." "Yes, sir, it was me," -said another merry young monkey, with a comical look. He answered, "I -know you are not good scholars. How do I know that? Oh, you never heard -of good scholars pulling the teacher's tails!" This was a very striking -view of things to them, and they did not know whether to be impressed or -amused. - -The quickness of the city children, and their readiness of sympathy, -specially struck him. But the main issue of the work was practical. "I -cannot help saying that I feel that this work will do me real good, and -will give me an actual, and not a mere theoretical interest in the work -I have before me. And that is a thing very much needed. One other thing -I may mention here. We have been having worship once a day very -regularly, and to me at least it has been very pleasant and very useful. -And now good-night to both." - -"I shall be very sorry to leave my poor little bairns, for I have come -to like them exceedingly, especially of late; they have become so -numerous that I have to put some of them on the floor—nearly fifty last -night. I don't know how it is, but I have a strange sort of feeling, as -if they were having a deeper interest in what I say than I ever saw -before; perhaps it is because I think I have myself. Since -Christmas-time I have told them every night about Jesus, and only -stories that directly illustrated His love and work, and I feel a -difference in the way they listen; some of them especially sit so very -still and quiet, with such an earnest, solemn look on their faces. Some -nights ago Donald English (who made the disturbance the first night I -began), as I was beginning, took hold of my hand and said, 'Oh, tell's -about Jesus again, the night!' I often end by asking them to pray Jesus, -before they go to bed, to make them His little ones; and several times, -as they went out, some of them have put their hand in mine and -whispered, 'I'll ask Him the nicht.' Last Sabbath, when I was speaking -of Jesus having died for our sakes, they were all sitting so very -attentive, but three little boys in one corner began quarrelling about a -bonnet, and disturbing me by the noise. I stopped twice and looked at -them, but they always began again. Presently I stopped for the third -time, and was going to speak to them, when one of the boys, who had been -very attentive, rushed at them, and before I could interfere dragged one -of them on to the floor, and commenced a furious onslaught of blows and -abuse for interrupting me. I had hard work in persuading him to stop. -Another very funny thing was the looks of reproachful indignation which -some of the attentive ones had been casting at the disturbers, previous -to the final outbreak. It was terribly annoying at the time, especially -as I saw that many of them were very deeply interested. When I was -ending I spoke of how Jesus deserved to be loved, and that they should -ask to be made to love Him. One little girlie whispered, 'I will ask -Him, for, oh, I do want to love Him!' and when I said it was time to go -away they cried, 'Oh, dinna' send's away yet, tell's mair about Jesus;' -and then they came round me, and made me promise to tell them 'bonnie -stories about Jesus' next Sabbath. I have found that nothing interests -them more than what is directly about Jesus. I could not help telling -you all these little things, but I never had the same sort of _feeling_ -in teaching a class before, and I would like you to _remember_ sometimes -my poor little children down in the Canongate. I wish I could take them -all into a better atmosphere, for it is sad to think of their chances of -ever becoming good in such an evil, wretched place. Harper and I have -been having many nice talks. I mean to preach often in the summer—I -_want_ to." - -Here he describes an incident of open-air preaching. A friend was -speaking, and Elmslie was managing the audience. - - "EDINBURGH, _Jan. 23rd, 1872_. - - "During this the man I had heard swearing at F———— came up to S————, - who was standing a few yards off, and spoke to him. I went up just in - time to hear him say, 'That fellow cannot even talk grammar.' I - replied, 'We don't come here to teach grammar.' He was rather taken - aback, but replied, 'Well, _I_ could have said all your man said in - half the time.' 'Then wait till he is done, and you shall have the next - turn.' 'No, no, I don't want that; if I spoke I should oppose you.' 'I - am ready for that; will you do it?' I said; 'We don't come here to - argue.' 'No; you are wise to decline to argue with me.' I answered, - 'Pooh! are you so conceited as to suppose that our arguing would make - any difference to Christianity? Why, it has been argued hundreds of - times over by men a deal wiser than you or me, and you see Christianity - has not gone to the wall.' By that time I saw I was going to win, and - got very cool and at my ease, while he got excited and put out; then he - started on a new tack by saying, 'And what good do you expect to do to - humanity by preaching here, and disturbing us?' I said, 'Well, perhaps, - for one thing, we will get some drunken characters like those' - (pointing to some) 'to give up the drink, and be decent, and keep their - wives and children from starving.' 'Well, that may be, but speaking - like yours will never do it.' I answered, 'No, you are quite right, but - we are young, you see, and some of us have not much voice, and some - have not much sense; but we are just trying to find out who of us can - do the thing, and so, you see, we are just doing as well as we can.' He - looked rather amazed at my frankness, and said, 'Well, I'm sure I have - not any ill-will to you, but I don't believe in religion, and there are - such a lot of hypocrites.' I said, 'Yes, there are a great lot, but - that's just a reason why you should believe in the goodness of - religion.' 'How do you make that out?' 'Why, you never heard of people - making imitation of the stones and stuff like that' (pointing to the - gutter), 'but it is sovereigns and things like that they make - counterfeits of.' 'Ay, but I hate hypocrites, and say, Down with them.' - 'So do I; and if you could down with all the religious hypocrites you - would do more for Christianity than we can by preaching here.' 'Ah!' he - said, 'if that's your opinion you should not take to street preaching; - they are all hypocrites.' 'Oh, nonsense!' I replied. He exclaimed, very - bitterly, 'Look at ————' (mentioning a recent scandal); 'what good has - that man done?' I answered, 'More than ever you or I have.' 'I would - like to hear how.' he sneered. 'Why, you know, for one thing, he did - manage, whether his preaching was sense or nonsense, to persuade a lot - of drunken working men to give up drink and go to the kirk, and not - waste their money in the public-house; and now you go and ask their - wives and bairns whether R———— has done any good in the world.' 'Ay, - but what do you say to,' etc.? 'That it was a great sin and shame to - him; but that is no reason for refusing to own that he has done a vast - deal of good before he did that piece of ill; and besides, I doubt if - you or I are so good as to throw stones at him, etc., etc. Now I've - listened to your criticisms on us, and pretty hard some of them were, - so you will come up with me now, and hear what we've got to say.' He - said, 'Well, I must say I like your way of taking things; I never heard - them put in the way you have done; but I have not time now to come up; - I have to take tea in half an hour with a mate.' I said, 'Still, you'll - promise to come back next Sunday and hear us, and I may tell you, in - secret, we shall have better speakers next time, and if you like, after - the meeting is over, I'll have a talk with you. I never did meet one of - your side before, but I've read some of your books. We won't call it a - discussion, for I've not had any experience at arguing, and I suppose - you are an old hand.' He gave a queer laugh, and said, 'Any way I never - came across anybody on your side with half your sharpness and common - sense; and besides, I must say _you_ are honest about it.' And then we - shook hands, and he promised to come along next Sunday.... By the way, - in my talk with the Deist my 'heretical' reading came in useful to me; - for if I had not come through all that, I could not have heard his - attacks on religion and kept my coolness, or taken them up the way I - did; so it is _some good_; it will give me confidence in myself for the - future—_another_ good thing." - -Pleasant interludes in his New College life were a session spent at -Aberdeen University, as assistant to the Professor of Natural -Philosophy, Mr. David Thomson, and two sessions spent at Berlin in the -study of theology. At Aberdeen he had in his class Mr. Chrystal, now the -celebrated Professor of Mathematics in the University of Edinburgh, -whose abilities he repeatedly refers to in his letters. His work was -enjoyable, and his relations with Professor Thomson of the most cordial -kind. He was tempted in various ways to alter his life purpose, was -offered a professorship of Natural Philosophy with a large salary in the -Colonies, and was specially tempted to enter the medical profession. His -closest friend at the University, Mr. James Shepherd, now a medical -missionary of the United Presbyterian Church in India, was pursuing his -professional studies, and with him he frequently visited hospital -patients, finding a double interest in the work. Thus he writes:— - - "ABERDEEN, _March 14th, 1870_. - - "As to Medicine, I have read up most of the text-books prescribed here, - so that I am really very well up on the subject, and Jim Shepherd says - I would make a capital doctor. I went along with him to the - 'Dissecting-room,' 'Anatomical Museum,' 'Infirmary,' and 'Incurable - Hospital,' and he did his best to sicken me (as you remember befell me - three years ago), but I was all right, so he says I am now 'hardened'! - It was very interesting seeing all the poor ill folk, and it was a real - pleasure to speak to them, and joke with them, and leave them cheery." - -In Germany it is evident even from his meagre notebooks that he -thoroughly enjoyed life, and entered into it with his usual zest and -brightness. But everything was subordinated to study. He made himself -master of the language, and did his best to profit from the lectures he -attended. - -His good parents were naturally alarmed at the effects which German -practice and thought (more dreaded then, perhaps, than now) might have -upon their son. He warns them against uncharitableness. "There is -nothing so difficult," he says, "as to convey a true and fair picture of -the religious state of a people. Just as one's opinion of a person's -character is often wholly changed on coming in contact with him, so -actual life in a country alters one's estimate of it, and differences of -circumstances and training condition the development of thought." He -comes to the conclusion that it is not a breach of charity to say that -the Germans are in a lower state religiously than Scotland, but asserts -that at the same time there are many good and spiritual men among them, -and that Germany is not so much more irreligious than, for example, -London. He quotes Dorner as saying of missionary work, "You send more -money, but we send more men." At that time he was beginning to -understand Dorner's lectures, and says they are very good and very -useful, especially for Germany. "For instance, he has been defending the -doctrine of the Trinity, the personality of the Holy Ghost, the Divinity -of Christ, and eternal punishment. He is very practical and thorough." - -His attachment to Dorner grew as is witnessed by the following letter:— - - "Dorner is a thoroughly good and very able man, and I have found your - remark true, for I have already got a great deal of good from his - lectures on Romans. He is at present lecturing on the 4th chapter, and - since I began to understand him I have enjoyed his lectures very much; - formerly the first few chapters of Romans seemed to me almost - unintelligible, but I now see not only the meaning of the separate - verses, but the grand line of thought and argument running through the - whole, and I have a far clearer conception of many of the grandest - Gospel doctrines than I had before, and especially of the nature of - Christ's sacrifice for sin, and the necessity lying on God to punish - sin. I wish I could send you some extracts from the lectures to show - you how very good they are, but I can only give you one illustration. - On iii. 28—which Luther translates, 'We conclude, then, that a man is - justified by faith _alone_, without the deeds of the law'—he remarked - that the Romanists misrepresent the meaning of this, and accuse Luther - of Antinomianism, but (he added) Luther's position is simply this: 'The - fruit does _not_ make the tree, but a good tree cannot be without - fruit.' When he was lecturing on iii. 25, where the question comes up - whether Christ was merely the Altar for the propitiatory sacrifice or - Himself the Sacrifice, he quoted Dr. Chalmers and another Scotch - theologian with _extreme_ approval, viz., Morison—do you know who he - is? (Dorner took strongly the view that Christ was Himself the - Sacrifice.) It is a great pleasure to hear him reading the verses of - the passage he is to examine, for he does it with such earnestness and - impressiveness that they seem to have double the meaning that they have - ordinarily; he has a great deal of eloquence in him, and I like him - very much." - - "I always read Meyer's Commentary on Romans before going to the class, - so that I am studying Romans very thoroughly, and as the other - Professor I attend is lecturing on Paul's Teaching, and has been - lecturing on his Life, I shall know a good deal more of Paul before I - come back." - - "On Wednesday, the 9th, I bought two Commentaries—De Wette on Psalms, - and Meyer on Romans; they were rolled up in a sheet of paper taken out - of an old book, containing some sixteen pages. I happened to glance at - it in unfolding it, and my attention was caught by these words, in - German, of which the following is a translation: 'Look upon your - children as just so many flowers, which have been lent to you out of - God's garden; the flowers may wither or die, yet thank God that He has - lent them to you for one summer.' I thought at once that I had surely - known the style long ago, and on glancing down the pages I was not at - all surprised to find where the letter broke off—'S. R.— Aberdeen, - March 7th, 1637.' Was it not strange to come in that odd way on a - German translation of Samuel Rutherford's Letters? (See if you can find - the passage.) I also notice, in the bookseller's catalogue, that - Bunyan's works are all translated, also Spurgeon's, 'Schonberg-Cotta - Family,' Mrs. Henry Wood's novels, etc." - -In the autumn of 1873 Mr. Elmslie came to London. Four years previously -Dr. Dykes had assumed the pastorate of the church at Regent Square. His -health made it necessary for him to receive, from the commencement, -assistance in his work. He was always anxious to secure the services of -young men who might be trained under him for high achievements in later -years. He heard of Mr. Elmslie's brilliant promise and invited him to -fill the position, then vacant, of assistant to himself. The invitation -was accepted, and Mr. Elmslie settled in London. - -At Regent Square he flung himself into the work of the congregation with -eager sympathy. He rapidly became popular and was made welcome in every -home. In Dr. Dykes he found a wise and kind helper, to whom he became -warmly attached. He appreciated his methods of working and his power as -a preacher; but most of all he was struck by that grace of devotional -fervour which gave Dr. Dykes' prayers so constraining a power to draw -the souls of his people into communion with God. Nothing could have been -brighter and happier than the life of the young preacher in his new -surroundings, and his contagious enthusiasm and energy reacted on all -who knew him. Here in London, at the busy centre of so much of the -world's activity, his eager, questioning spirit found material for its -restless enquiries; whilst that knowledge of human nature and its needs, -which lay at the back of his most powerful spiritual work in later -years, was slowly moulded by the opportunities of this time. - -He describes in a letter to his mother the opening of his pulpit work at -Regent Square. His chief fear was for his voice: "It looked such a -distance," he writes, "to the faces in the end gallery." He got a friend -to sit at the far end of the church, just over the clock, with a -handkerchief which he was to wave if the speaker were inaudible. The -subject of his sermon was, "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from -all sin." - -It is curious that the only despondent note that sounds through his -correspondence at this time is the lamentation that he is unfitted for -the pulpit. Repeatedly he expresses the fear that he will never make a -preacher. He feels stiff and ill at ease. Official trappings of any kind -he always disliked; and the pulpit robes, which he afterwards, as far as -possible, discarded, he even then, as he told Dr. Dykes, detested. "I -find it," he writes, "most hopeless to get anything I much care to say, -and even then it is a perplexity generally to see what really is the -reason. I am at the very point of giving over preaching altogether." -Again, "I am more sure than ever that I am not a preacher," "Romps with -Mr. Turnbull's children's singing-class are, on the whole, the most -satisfactory occupation I know of." - -These doubts and discouragements are not surprising. From the very first -Dr. Elmslie conceived of the Christian Faith in a deep, comprehensive -way, and its ideals of purity and holiness touched and warmed his nature -at many points. Just because the outline was so large the filling-in -took years to accomplish. It was only by continuous and patient -self-analysis, by long observation and study of his fellow-men, that he -was able to meet the needs of humanity, at all points, with a message -which no one interpreted more largely. His sermons at Regent Square are -sketches and outlines which experience alone could embody and complete. -I have been much struck, in preparing a selection of his sermons for the -press, with the growth of their composition. The sermon, for example, -which stands first in this volume is, I think, the earliest he ever -wrote. But the sermon, as it was last preached and is now printed, is -not the sermon as he wrote it. The latter, though in outline identical, -has been emptied of its original contents and re-filled out of the -abundance of a heart which had grown in deeper knowledge of human needs -and the approaches of Divine compassion. - -His greatest satisfaction he found in his intercourse with the young men -in the congregation. - -"At the Young Men's Society," he writes, "I have been chairman for some -time, and have to sum up: it costs me no preparation, and yet how they -listen, and how I feel I can sway them as I please! I enjoy _that_ kind -of speaking." - -It was at the close of these weekly discussions that Mr. Elmslie and I -used often to meet. Our homeward paths were not identical, but we used -to imagine that we were alternately escorting one another home as we -spent a measurable portion of many a night upon the pavement, heedless -of the thinning traffic, in keen debate over some of those deep -insoluble problems which, I am glad to think, trouble his eager heart no -longer. "I have long believed," he writes, "_thinking_ to be more -unhealthy than fever, cholera, bad drains, etc. I would give a good deal -to be only an animal now and then." - -Almost the first hopeful word about his preaching in Regent Square -occurs in the following passage; it is interesting otherwise:— - - "On Monday evening I was at Mr. Bell's. He pressed me to stay; thought - I should not be a Professor; meant for a preacher; would have great - power; something quite peculiar about my sermons; made Christ and - everything so real, and near, and helpful; and my prayers always did - him good, etc., etc. - - "Curious, _that_ in my sermons tells with everybody, for it comes from - my line of reading and thinking at college, especially from the _German - books on Christ, such as Strauss_; they made me trust Him as a Person - rather than a doctrine; besides, I know I have come to regard Him all - round differently in consequence. I have had to pay dearly for the - reading, and have often wished I had not, so it is a little comfort to - find that my coming through it makes me more helpful now." - -The following is worth quoting as an instance of his ready resource:— - - "48, REGENT SQUARE, _Tuesday_. - - "MY DEAR FOLKS,—On Saturday morning a shabby man called, said he was a - cousin of Dykes, needing money too, etc., just come from - America—awkward Dykes on Continent. I saw he was an impostor, so - resolved to get rid of him. I answered, 'It _is_ awkward.' Then he - said, 'What is to become of me? I look to you, sir.' 'Nothing will come - of that, I fear.' 'But are you not Dr. Dykes's assistant?' 'Yes, I - assist _him_, but not his relatives.' 'Well, but, sir, what would you - advise me to do?' 'To say "Good morning," and not lose more of your - time here.' As he got up he rubbed his stomach and said, 'I have had no - breakfast to-day.' 'Very hard that mine is over, and my landlady does - not like to have to make a second; do you often go without food?' 'Many - and many a time, sir.' 'Ah, the doctor says it is good for the health! - I wish I looked as well-fed as you do, going without breakfast. It must - be economical. Good morning.' And we parted with mutual grins." - -Among the congregation at Regent Square Mr. Elmslie formed many -friendships. He conceived a warm regard for Professor Burdon-Sanderson -(now of Oxford) and his wife; and other names might be mentioned of -those who became lifelong friends. Among men who have since become well -known, he saw something of Professor G. J. Romanes, who was then an -occasional visitor at Regent Square. About this time he describes a -meeting with Macdonell of the _Times_, whom he speaks of as "full of -light." On the same occasion he met Dr. Marcus Dods for, I think, the -first time. "_Dods, I like very much_," is his brief comment. - - * * * * * - -Two years after his first arrival in London Mr. Elmslie settled in -Willesden as minister of the Presbyterian Congregation there. When he -left Scotland in 1873 he had formed no resolve to sever his -ecclesiastical connection with that country. Circumstances and -inclination, however, kept him in the south. He was much impressed with -the type of congregation which represented English Presbyterianism at -Regent Square. For many members of the session he had a warm respect and -friendly admiration. He was interested in the experimental position of a -Church, such as the Presbyterian one in England, comparatively young and -small. The appeal that came to him from Willesden was direct and urgent. -It is not to be wondered at that he yielded, at first rather -reluctantly, to its pleading. The next eight years of his life were -spent in active ministry in this little metropolitan suburb. - -When Mr. Elmslie came to Willesden the place was much less populous than -it has since become. The streets were only partially lighted. The road -from the Junction Station to the little village of Harlesden, which is -now a continuous row of shops and houses, passed then between ragged -hedges, under a canopy of elms. The Presbyterian Church was not built, -but services were held in a hall, which was the first building the -Scotch residents put up. Mr. Elmslie took rooms near the site of the -prospective church, but shortly after moved to the little house in Manor -Villas which belonged to the chapel-keeper and his wife—Mr. and Mrs. -Oxlade—a worthy couple, who returned the respect with which he regarded -them by a loving admiration for the best man, as they phrased it, whom -they ever knew. - -On November 23rd, 1875, Mr. Elmslie was duly ordained. His dear mother -was present at the service, and many friends. I had been with him during -the earlier part of the day. Among other subjects of conversation we had -been anticipating an episcopal discussion on the ethics of betting. He -recognized the difficulty of the subject, and as he got more hopelessly -perplexed in his effort to justify an absolute prohibition of the -practice on grounds which could be intellectually defended, he turned, I -remember, to his mother with a look of comical helplessness: "Here am I -going to be ordained, and I don't even know why it's wrong to bet." - -The congregation under his watchful care grew and prospered. A more -united body of people never kept together in corporate life, and this -happy result was due in chief measure to the unwearied tact and resource -of the young minister. - -In the spring of the following year the new church was completed and -opened for public worship. Mr. Elmslie seemed to be able to draw into it -men of all shades of religious opinion, and some even whose family -traditions were at variance with evangelical orthodoxy. One of -the distinguished sons of a famous Unitarian household was a -fellow-worshipper with Ned Wright the evangelist. Throughout the whole -of the little community which he ruled, for young and old alike, there -was life, energy, and kindly charity. He felt that the path of Christian -living was not to be trodden without ardent effort; and his example was -at once a stimulus to the strong and an encouragement to the weak. "Your -prayers," said a lady to him at this time, "always make me feel that it -is a terribly difficult thing to be a Christian—but you can't think what -a lot of good they do me." - -The year after (1877) Mr. Elmslie commenced mission work. The London and -North Western Railway Company had just built an Institute for their -employés who are housed in large numbers in what is known as the Railway -Village, at Willesden Junction. Above the recreation rooms in the new -building was a large hall, which was placed at the disposal of Mr. -Elmslie, by the directors, for Sunday services. He willingly took -advantage of this kindness to gain a further hold on men whose hearts, -in many cases, he had already reached. An engine-driver, who had been -long ill, remarked to a friend about him: "He comes here, has a long -chat, and tells me about many things; but never lets me feel he knows -more than I do." The services then commenced are still continued under -the oversight of Mr. Elmslie's successor. - -Four years later another mission was started from Willesden which has -since grown into an independent charge. The district of College Park -came into being beneath Mr. Elmslie's eyes, and its spiritual needs -attracted his attention. He applied to the London School Board for use -of a schoolroom in which to hold Sunday services. The application having -failed he bought, in the following year, along with his office-bearers, -the site for a hall and church. The hall was at once built, and by the -kindness of Mr. Andrew Wark, and other friends to whom Mr. Elmslie made -a personal appeal, the money to meet the cost was subscribed. The church -has been more recently completed. - -One noticeable feature in his work at Willesden was his power to attract -the young. I remember his saying on one occasion, half jestingly, that -he liked to make children happy, as he knew how miserable they would be -when they grew up. He meant that the strain of living was bound to tell, -and that children should have all the happiness which can be enjoyed in -the elasticity of youth. I do not know which were more attractive to the -young people of Willesden—his children's sermons, or the sweets which he -used to produce from mysterious stores when they came to visit him. Both -were excellent and both did good. - - * * * * * - -The following contains an interesting account of his pastoral work, and -is worth quoting at length:— - - "Though it is late, and the text for Sunday (Communion) has not been - fixed yet, I am going to tell you a very sad story, that has made me - think of many things. Over a year ago Mrs. X————, on my recommendation, - engaged as governess a Miss Y————, a great friend of Mrs. Z————, who - asked that she might be very kindly treated, because she had had a deal - to bear, and was all but disgusted with religion. She was a bright - young girl, very pretty and graceful, clever in talk and repartee. - Often I wished to find a way of showing her some kindness, but - naturally that was hardly possible. However, I knew that both Mr. and - Mrs. G———— were good to her. She was to have left last Saturday, but - took suddenly unwell—had to go to bed. On the same day I called in at - Mrs. G————'s on my way to say good-bye to Miss Y————; learning of her - attack, I did not go on.... Mrs. G———— had given her some - eau-de-Cologne, and she had liked it much, so I took with me my little - spray bottle. Her mother was with her; she looked wretchedly ill in - face, eyes, and hands, but spoke in a very firm voice, and that made me - think there was certainly no immediate danger. - - "I at once told her about the spray bottle, and making her shut her - eyes, applied it on her temples. She said it was delicious, and took it - in her hands. - - "I cannot try to describe her talk, for it was broken by moments of - wandering, when she said very odd things, and in the midst she grew - sick, and I had to go outside; she was too ill then to say much. I - deemed it kind not to remain, but had a short, simple prayer. She said, - very earnestly, 'Thank you so much for that!' I told her I would come - again, and she must not fear to say to me all she wished. She answered, - 'Yes, come again.' Thursday was a very busy day, for I had many - engagements in London. Though I tried hard, I could not get home early, - but it would have made no difference. She had been delirious night and - day, with occasional intervals, and died at a quarter to three in the - afternoon. She was only twenty-three. - - "... J———— G———— went up and held her hands. She struggled for a moment - or two, and then let her head down, and while he spoke to her, quieting - her, she said she was going to be good and sleep now. Her wild eyes - shut at last, and she was in a sleep, such as she had not had since - Saturday. - - "The mother and Mrs. G———— stole out, leaving only a sister, thinking - it was recovery; but it was death. In ten minutes, with a little sigh, - she ceased to breathe. Mr. G———— was her great friend, and she died in - his arms. You can hardly think how sad her death has made me. So many - forlorn things are about it that I have no time to write. Those lonely - nights of agony and death-like sickness, that she had said nothing - about at the time, believing herself dying, a governess among - strangers, etc. - - "Two things I am glad of—that Mrs. G———— was with her one night, and - that I thought of the spray bottle. She said to me, '_You_ had Mrs. - G———— to nurse _you_; is not she an _angel_?' and I said, 'Yes, as much - as if she had wings,' and I meant it. - - "Then her sisters told me that all that last night and day, till close - on the end, my little bottle was never out of her hand; the coolness of - the air and the softness of the spray relieved her sickness so much. - Once, when in a spasm she jerked the bottle on the floor, she cried, - for fear it was broken. The mother has sent a message asking if she may - keep it, since it was the last thing in her child's hand, and the last - that gave her any pleasure. It seems, too, that she spoke more than - once of my prayer for her. Before the mother left last night to go - home, she said to Mrs. G————, 'I shall always love you and your husband - for what you have done for my child. Your kindness to her and the - preaching she heard in your church did her so much good. She came to - you with her life embittered, and with her religious beliefs nearly - gone. Only a month ago she told me they had all come back again, and - she understood Christ better, and believed in Him more, because of the - way Mr. Elmslie preached of him, and we all have seen that this last - year at Willesden has been the happiest in all her life. If she had - been taken a year ago our recollections would have been very, very sad; - now it is different,' and then the poor lady burst out crying. To-day I - tried hard to get some white roses to lay on her ere the body is taken - home, but I could only get some smaller white flowers, and maiden-hair - ferns. Mrs. G———— had also got a basket of flowers, and I think the - sight of them will comfort the old folks at home a little, as also a - letter I have sent the poor mammy, saying some kind things about her - lassie. - - "Many other touching things the poor girl said and did come to my mind, - and I could tell you more, but there is not time. I called it a sad - story, but in some ways it is not sad. Indeed, I almost think that it - is death alone that makes life at all sacred. - - "All these things have made me think that Christ's account of the - judgment must be quite real. I mean the 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one - of these,' etc., for that is just how we would feel, that is just how - the poor mother of the dead girl felt. There is nothing to thank God - for more than to have been able to do a kindness to a dying soul. To - think that a poor troubled soul has gone out of the pain and tiredness - of life straight into the arms of God from yours, with the touch of - pitying hands fresh on it; to feel God sees that, and knows those hands - were yours, seems to me to bring you and God very near to each other. - If it be true that He loves 'the souls that He hath made,' surely He - must love you for loving them. I do not think it would matter very much - about other things, if you had loved a good deal. If a little child - said, as you were being turned away, 'He made me so happy!' and - another, 'He fed and clothed me;' and another, 'He held me so gently in - the agony of death,' even if he were a very sinful man, what could God - do to him who had been good to the 'little ones'? The Apostle John had - thought of it, and said, 'He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God,' - and Paul must have been in the same mind when he wrote 1 Cor. xiii." - -They were very bright and happy, those Willesden days with their -expanding usefulness; and before Mr. Elmslie left the district his life -had been crowned by the commencement of that heart-union with another -which seemed to more than double the separate influence of each for -good. He worked unremittingly, and even his holidays were not given to -idleness or rest. When he came to London he knew little of French, and -one of his first holidays was spent in Paris, where he worked at the -language with conscientious thoroughness, and obtained an adequate -mastery over its difficulties. He returned to Paris on another occasion -for further study, and one late summer he spent in Rome studying Italian. - -His second visit to Paris was very helpful to him in more ways than one, -especially in the influence exercised upon him by Bersier. - -"I find that the £30 I spent on going to Paris is going to pay me far -more than I thought of, not merely in French, though I rejoice in that -daily, but in preaching. Perhaps you remember me saying that I had got -several hints from the style of Bersier, who spoke, not read—mainly in -letting out, adopting a free, direct style, variation, etc. Since coming -back I have had constantly to preach very badly prepared; but I knew -that (partly in consequence) I was much more free, bold, and roused. On -Sunday I was very ill-prepared, nothing written, even order of thoughts -not fixed; and I did not stick, even, to the line intended; but feeling -this, I let out tremendously in vehemence and language. I saw how it -took, and several spoke. Yesterday two old folks were on the sermon, and -then they said, 'But ever since you came back from Paris you have been -so much improved,' etc., etc. And indeed, I have heard more of my -sermons during the last few weeks than ever before. So I owe a debt to -M. Bersier. Another item, however, is, I fancy, that Paris made some -things a little more real to me than they were before." - -During all these years Mr. Elmslie's reading was wide and various. At -the same time it was not difficult to see that the subject that -interested him most was the study of man, and the books that attracted -him were those that threw light upon the actions and passions of men. -When he returned from Paris for the first time, for example, the author -of whom he was most full was Rousseau—not Rousseau the philosopher and -speculative thinker—but the Rousseau of the "Confessions"—with their -strange candour and unblushing avowals. He read little of the works of -the great imaginative masters of English prose or verse. If he did read -a volume of Tennyson or Ruskin, for example, his criticisms were always -brilliant and penetrating; but he never nourished his spirit upon their -loftier utterances, nor was his style moulded by the melody of theirs. -One exception I should perhaps make. His study of George Eliot was -frequent and appreciative. One of his students has told us how, shortly -before his own death, he referred to the scene in which Mr. Tulliver's -is described to point a characteristic lesson in theology and charity. -The passage was a favourite one, from the day when a friend first gave -him the "Mill on the Floss" to read. I remember another remark of his -about George Eliot which is worth quoting, but to appreciate its point I -must introduce a word of explanation. I had, just at that time, drawn up -a memorial on a subject in which we were both interested. Avoiding the -conventional "wharfoes" which "Uncle Remus" has satirized in such -documents, I had worded the appeal with perhaps exaggerated directness. -Each sentence contained a distinct proposition, and the whole was -expressed with something of that oracular emphasis with which, in those -days, Victor Hugo used, from time to time, to address the citizens of -Paris. After talking of this composition, and the subject of which it -formed part, the conversation turned on George Eliot. I referred to -"Romola"—especially to the closing scenes in the life of Savonarola, -which, as it has always seemed to me, touch the highest point that has -been reached in analysis of the drama of spiritual conflict. As I -recalled the passage in which the disciplined imagination of the writer -shows us the great Florentine stripped, one after another, of all those -dazzling evidences of divine favour with which he used to feed his soul -in pride, till there is nothing left to tell him of the unforsaking love -of God save the lowly witness of his own bowed and penitent heart, the -eyes of my companion grew bright with a large approval. After a pause he -said, "If we find George Eliot is not in heaven when we get there, I -think you and I will have to draw up a memorial—in the style of Victor -Hugo." - -When one thinks of the versatility of Dr. Elmslie's mind, and of the -keenness of his intelligence, one feels that he might have won laurels -in any domain of intellectual effort. And yet theology was the one -subject on which his heart was set. He conceived of it grandly and -nobly. He believed in it in that deep, derivative sense in which it is -referred to by Carlyle in the opening to his story of the Puritan -revolt, as a knowledge of God, the Maker, and of His laws. And for him -Christ was the Divine Lawgiver—sole Lord of his conscience as well as -Saviour of his spirit. For me at least, the facts of Christianity seemed -always to grow larger and more solemn as he pressed their spiritual -significance; its doctrines seemed to grow more real as he pierced -beneath the forms in which they are encased to explore their ethical -contents. God and man, and the relations between them, were the -absorbing subjects of his study. It was his constant brooding over human -nature as seen in the light of Divine pity, which gave its largeness to -his measurement alike of the deadly hatefulness of sin and of the -atoning charity of Christ. Sin was for him a thing far more terrible -than any punishment which could possibly await it; and his sense of its -dread, though still expiable, terror gave to him his Christlike -eagerness to watch for the faintest signs of contrition and amendment. -The following passage in a letter written to his mother some years -earlier contains, it seems to me, the heart and soul of all his -preaching. - -"Am very much touched to hear about the poor Doctor. No matter what he -may have done, with his disordered brain and troubled home life, I had -rather go into the next world like him than like most of those who have -condemned, though there were even nothing more than that near the end he -tried a little to do right, and had a pitiful wish in his heart to be at -rest, and go back to his old mother, and live a Christian life. And if -it is really true that there is a heavenly Father who pities sinful men, -and a Christ who died to save them, then I think my mammy, in helping -him only but a little to better thoughts and hopes, did a greater thing -than most deeds men call great. Any way, she has the satisfaction of -having done kindly by an unfortunate man, and of knowing that it is all -well with him—unless, indeed, Christ was altogether mistaken. It is not -the first time, either, that she has done that sort of thing." - - * * * * * - -In 1880 he was appointed tutor of Hebrew in the Presbyterian College, -London, and carried on the work along with that of his congregation in -Willesden. He made himself very popular with the students, and when a -permanent appointment came to be made in 1883, he was unanimously -elected Professor of Hebrew. He writes: "It seems that the speeches of -Walton, Fraser, and Watson were just perfect, so earnest and generous, -and loving and hopeful. That put the Synod into a melting and happy -mood. All yesterday I felt very grave, and almost afraid. I see that a -very great thing, of good or evil, has happened in my life. God grant -that it may be for good." - -Almost immediately after his appointment to the Professorship, he -married Kate, daughter of Mr. Alexander Ross, formerly Rector of the -Grammar School, Campbeltown. The home which he made first at Upper -Roundwood, Willesden, then at 31, Blomfield Road, Maida Vale, will ever -have the brightest associations for his friends. He had all the -qualities that fit a man to bless and grace married life. When his son -and only child was born it seemed as if he were drinking the richest -happiness of life in its fulness. I shrink from quoting words so sacred -and tender as these which I take from a letter to his wife, but I cannot -otherwise convey the full truth:— - -"It makes me so glad, dear, every time I think of it, to know that we -chose each other for no base worldly motives, but out of pure love and -esteem for what (with all faults and defects) was good, and tender, and -true, in one another. It was not for the mean things that the world and -fashion make much of and worship that we two came together, meaning to -go hand in hand through life with mutual help and kindness. We knew -quite well the world's ways, and we could feel the pressure of its lower -estimates and aims. But this act at least was done not with shallow -hearts and for mean ends, but in honest friendship out of true -affection, and with a very earnest wish to do only what was good and -right, and to help each other to live a happy and a noble life." Such a -life it was, though its years were few; and when the news of his death -came, amid all the absorbing and confounding regrets which filled many -minds, the thought was ever uppermost of the wife and child left -desolate in the home that had been so full of sunshine. - -Dr. Elmslie gave himself unsparingly to the work of his chair. He -declined preaching engagements, and made zealous preparation for his -classes. Apart from his own high standard of duty, he greatly respected -the opinion of students. He thought Professors could have no fairer -judges. The diligent study of the Old Testament, with the aid of the -best German commentaries, was of course the main part of his preparatory -work. But he did more with dictionaries than with commentaries, and made -up his mind for himself. He always kept pace with the progress of -research, and followed with deep attention the absorbing discussions of -recent years on the structure of the Old Testament. As he was himself so -chary in expressing publicly the conclusions he had arrived at on these -subjects, it would not be right for me to say much. Of this, at least, -he was sure, that the worth and message of the Old Testament were -unimpaired by criticism, and would be so whatever the ultimate -conclusion might be. He was also exceedingly sceptical as to the -finality of the critical verdicts generally accepted at present: he -believed that the analysis would be carried much farther. But although -he diligently studied these things, and was an accurate and exact -grammarian, he had his own theory of the duties of a Professor, which -cannot be better described than in his own words, in an anonymous -article contributed to the _British Weekly_ for September 16th, 1887. -There he says— - -"Theological colleges are not in the first instance shrines of culture -or high places of abstract erudition, but factories of preachers and -pastors. They are not so much fountains of pure scholarship, but are -rather to be classed with schools of medicine and institutes of -technical education. Their function is not to produce great theologians, -but to train efficient ministers—though they will hardly do that without -possessing all that is essential to do the other. The ideal Professor is -not your dungeon of learning, in whose depths he and his pupils are -buried away from all practical life and usefulness. Information is good, -in large measure indispensable, but the rarer gift of the heaven-born -teacher is infinitely more. The old institution of the "lecture"— -pretentious, laborious, in every sense exhaustive—must vanish. What was -spun out into an hour of dry-as-dust detail must be struck off in ten -minutes of bright, sharp, suggestive sketching. It is the difference -between the heavy leading article of our newspapers and the crisp -incisiveness of the French press. There must be much more teaching from -text-books, and direct instruction from the Bible and human life. -Dogmatic must deal less with theories and mouldy controversies, and more -with the actual forces of sin and salvation. Exegetic cannot be allowed -to fool away a whole session in a wearisome analysis of a few chapters -of an epistle or a prophecy, fumbling and mumbling over verbal -trivialities, blind to the Divine grandeurs that are enshrined within, -while the students are left without even a bird's-eye view of the -contents of the Bible as a whole, and destitute of any adequate -conception of its vital majesty and meaning. Above all, a new scope and -purpose must be given to the teaching of Practical Theology. Instead of -a few lectures on the doctrine of the Church, and the ideal construction -of a sermon, and the theoretical discharge of pastoral duty, this ought -to constitute the crowning and chief study in the curriculum. And it -should be in the form, not of teaching, but of actual training. -Montaigne complained of his physicians that they "knew much of Galen, -and little about me." They manage better in medical education now. Fancy -the souls of tempted and sick men, women, and children handed over to -the unpractised mercies of our book-taught young ministers. Colleges -cannot quite mend this difficulty; but they might do much. And still -more would be done if each student could be secured a year of travel -abroad, and after that be required to serve an apprenticeship as curate -or evangelist in connection with our larger congregations." - -Through the kindness of my friend Mr. W. D. Wright, B.A., a student in -the English Presbyterian College, I have received some very interesting -reminiscences from his students. Space does not permit me to give them -fully, but they show that Elmslie acted up to his own conception of a -Professor's duties. One gentleman says— - - "In recalling my impressions of Professor Elmslie, nothing strikes me - so forcibly as his unfailing gentleness towards his students. It was - very seldom indeed that any student was inattentive or troublesome in - class, but when anything of the kind did occur Elmslie never spoke a - word to the offender, and but for the pained flush on his face, one - would have thought he had not noticed the occurrence. Again, when a - student had not prepared his Hebrew lesson, and was unable to read it, - Elmslie always appeared more ashamed than the student himself, but - never said a word in blame or warning. Only he was afterwards chary of - asking the same student to read. - - "Elmslie was always ready to answer questions or meet any difficulties - raised by the students, and he was often more eloquent on these - occasions than when engaged in the ordinary routine of the class. He - had rather a dislike for the schoolmaster's work that he was compelled - to do with junior students, and hurried the class on until they were - able to read passages in Hebrew. He did not aim so much at turning out - Hebrew scholars as at making preachers, with a deep interest in Hebrew - literature, and imbued with its spirit. If he could only secure our - interest in a Hebrew author, and enlist our sympathies, he was willing - to excuse any ignorance of ours in regard to grammar or syntax." - -Another says— - - "Perhaps my most vivid remembrances of Dr. Elmslie collect round his - criticisms upon his students' trial discourses. Always kind, invariably - conciliatory, in his criticism, yet he pointed out very plainly the - defects, and indicated what was lacking with unfailing clearness of - judgment. Even in the midst of his rebukes he would frequently take the - bitterness away by some half-playful remark or reference to his own - experiences.... But better than any criticisms were his own concluding - remarks on the text. Compressed, as they had to be, into a very few - minutes, the whole intensity of his nature was seen in them. We often - left the lecture-hall with our brains all astir and our hearts glowing - with the inspiration of his words. - - "I rather think some of his first-year students generally thought him - occasionally heretical in his remarks at the close of his criticism. - The one thing he could not bear was dulness, a uniformity of mediocre - unreproachableness about a sermon. So he loved to give with startling - effect a single side of a truth, and thus to send us away with our - minds in a state of rather anxious activity. Once he half-humorously - gave us the advice to begin our sermons with a truth stated in an - unusual, half-heretical way, if one liked; for there is nothing makes - people listen so attentively as a suspicion of heresy. But these early - doubts of our Professor's soundness soon vanished, and we found him, as - one has said, 'not so much _broad_, as _big_.'" - - "He read to us a letter from a young man in much doubt as to whether he - should enter the Wesleyan pulpit or no. His correspondent had read with - relish Dr. Elmslie's article on Genesis. Could the Professor tell him - of any books in which points of Christian faith were dealt with in an - intelligent and convincing way? He, the correspondent, knew of no such - books. Dr. Elmslie asked our opinion. I ventured to suggest that - everybody had to hammer out these points of faith for himself. The - Doctor was rather pleased with this remark, and at once said, 'Oh, yes! - indeed he has, and to live them out too.'" - -In his old students who had become ministers he took an earnest -interest, and their letters show sufficiently how they prized him. "I -feel," says one, "that you have inspired me with a something quite apart -from the detailed work of the class—with spirit and enthusiasm for -preaching." - - * * * * * - -He himself was soon drawn back to the pulpit, and as he preached in the -various Nonconformist churches of the Metropolis it was almost -immediately felt that a new force of the first rank had appeared. He -preached frequently in Brixton Independent Church, then under the -brilliant and devout ministry of James Baldwin Brown. Mr. Brown's health -was very infirm when Dr. Elmslie began to preach there, and on his death -the congregation looked to the Professor as his natural successor. -Ultimately a cordial invitation was given. The inducements offered were -great, and the position was among the most influential London -Nonconformity can bestow. That a change of ecclesiastical relations -would have been necessitated by his acceptance would have been no -difficulty to Dr. Elmslie. But he feared to face the physical strain -involved, and preferred to continue his work as Professor. - -The disappointment felt at his declinature of the invitation to Brixton -Independent Church was very deep, although the members construed his -refusal in the right way, and understood that no difference of opinion -on ecclesiastical polity and no doubt of their fidelity had anything to -do with it. Some of the letters written to him were very touching. Among -these I may quote the following:— - -"DEAR SIR,—We are, with the exception of my husband (who is somewhat of -an invalid), closely occupied all the week, sometimes even the strain -becoming excessive. On Sundays, when you come, your teaching and -influence lift us above all our difficulties, and we start for the next -week full of hope, and feeling nothing too hard to be accomplished. With -regard to my sons, it is an especial boon, because, though they are -thoughtful and good, it has been almost impossible to get them to attend -church during the last two or three years. They did not meet, perhaps, -with a single service for many weeks into which they could enter with -the slightest interest, so they stayed away. We have all found our -Sundays very wearisome, but on those you have visited us all is changed. -All are deeply interested, one competing with the other in bringing -forward the ideas that have interested them." The writer goes on -reluctantly to acquiesce in a declinature which had evidently gone to -the heart of the whole household. - -His sphere as a preacher steadily widened, and he became, in addition, a -most popular platform speaker at the May meetings in Exeter Hall and -elsewhere. There is no room to recount his triumphs, and no need to do -so. All who heard him bore the same testimony. If he was preaching in -one of the suburbs the trains towards the time of service brought a -company of admirers from all parts of London. The chapel would be -crowded to the doors. When he stood up in the pulpit strangers felt -surprise. Youthful in appearance, unpretending in manner to the last -degree, and in the early part of the service generally nervous and -restrained, it was not till the sermon began that he showed his full -powers. He usually read the first prayer, and was always glad if he -could get some one to help him with the lessons and the giving out of -hymns. But in preaching all his powers were displayed at their highest. -He did not read his sermons, but his language was as abundant and -felicitous as his thought, and his audience was always riveted. Alike in -manner and matter he was quite original. He imitated no preacher; he did -not care to listen to sermons, and was rarely much impressed by them -when he did. I doubt if he ever read a volume of sermons unless it was -to review them. His knowledge of the Bible and his knowledge of life -gave him inexhaustible stores; he had always matter in advance, and -never felt that sterility of mind which so often afflicts the preacher. -He would retell the stories of the Old Testament, and make them live in -the light of to-day. The reality and firmness with which he grasped -life—the life of toiling, struggling, suffering men and women—was his -chief power. His sympathetic imagination helped him to divine the -feelings of various classes of the young men in business, for example, -with a small salary, and little prospect of rising, forbidden the hope -of honourable love, and tempted to baseness from without and within. He -had an intense concern for the happiness of home life, and much of his -preaching was an amplification of the words— - - "To mak' a happy fireside clime - To weans and wife; - That's the true pathos and sublime - Of human life." - -Mothers' hearts he would win by praying for the "dear little children -asleep in their beds at home." Young couples he would warn to keep fresh -the tenderness and self-sacrifice of first love. But the sermons which -follow speak for themselves, though nothing can transfer to the printed -page the light and fire of which they were full as the preacher spoke -them. - -Of the helpfulness of his preaching he had from time to time many -testimonies, of which he preserved a few. These were very welcome to -him, far more so than any appreciation of the intellectual ability or -the eloquence of his sermons. This, from one letter, is a specimen of -many more: "I wandered past my own church in a heavy weight of business -care, knowing that a mortgagee would this week likely take all I had, -and caring little where I wandered when I went in to hear you, and was -surprised at the text you preached from, and more so at the helpful -words you spoke, which I hope, by God's grace, will enable me to see— - - 'Behind a frowning providence - He hides a smiling face.'" - -He delivered courses of lectures to Sunday-school teachers under the -auspices of the Sunday-school Union. These were very largely attended -and highly appreciated. He received many letters of encouragement, among -them one from the vicar of a London church, who wrote that although he -could not attend them all, owing to the exacting nature of his own work, -he listened to those he could be present at with the deepest attention -and the greatest thankfulness. "That a great scholar should fearlessly -approach these vexed questions, and with his grasp of them be able to -make them popular and understood by the people, and above all attractive -to the people, is to me a great joy. You make the Bible a living book, -filled with people met with in workaday life. You show that the social -problems which superficial minds imagine are utterly new are only old -difficulties under new names, and that the Bible has a definite word to -say upon them, and its 'Thus saith the Lord' is to be listened to still. -I venture to think that this is the great need of this fevered age of -ours, and I heartily thank you." - -An attempt was made in 1888 by the Westminster Congregational Church, -where he had often preached with great acceptance, to secure him as -pastor. This invitation he was inclined to accept. The condition of the -Theological College was not at the time satisfactory, and for that and -other reasons it seemed not unlikely that the call would be closed with. -To me, as to others of his friends, it seemed certain that his physical -strength was wholly inadequate to the position, and I am glad to think -of the urgency with which this view was pressed on him. He was reassured -about the College, and gratefully declined the invitation. In connection -with it he received the following letter, which reflects so much honour -on all concerned that I venture to include it here:— - - "LONDON, _March 8th, 1888_. - - "TO THE REV. PROFESSOR ELMSLIE, M.A., D.D.—We hear with sympathetic - interest that the Westminster Church is calling you to its pastorate. - - "The traditions of the Westminster Church are good, its ministry has - always been highly spiritual and largely human, and its importance and - influence have been second to none among the churches of our order in - this great Metropolis. - - "We feel special interest in this call from the fact that it will - involve on your part the crossing of the denominational boundary - between Presbyterianism and Congregationalism. Identical though the - churches practically are in the foundation of their theological belief, - we appreciate the strain upon early and sacred association which this - may involve, with, however, this compensation, that, borne in answer to - a call for service and furtherance of the kingdom of Christ, it is a - practical and valuable evidence that the sister denominations are truly - wings in the one great army of God. - - "Should you accept this call to the highly honourable post which the - Westminster Church offers you, we beg to assure you of the cordial - welcome, brotherly sympathy, and, as the occasion may arise, the - friendly co-operation of the ministers of our body. - - "It is unusual for the representatives of other churches to intervene - in cases of this kind, but understanding there may be questions in your - mind as to the feelings with which you would be received into the ranks - of the Congregational ministry, we have thought it right, on the - suggestion of a representative of the Westminster Church, to give you - this assurance. - - "With best wishes for your future welfare and highest prosperity, - - "Yours fraternally, - - "Alexander Hannay, - "Henry Allon, - "J. C. Harrison, - "J. Guinness Rogers, - "Andrew Mearns, - "Samuel Newth, - "Joseph Parker, - "Robert F. Horton, - "John Kennedy, - "John Fredk. Stevenson, - "R. Vaughan Pryce, - "Alfred Cave, - "John Stoughton, - "Henry Robert Reynolds." - -It is unnecessary to refer in detail to the numerous invitations to -Presbyterian pulpits which reached him from time to time. Some of these -were from Scotland, on which he looked back with mingled feelings. He -did not willingly turn his face to the north, or think of it with much -pleasure. "I worked too hard there," he would say. On the other hand, he -writes from Edinburgh in 1880—"I had a splendid talk, fit to be printed, -with Taylor Innes, Davidson, and Iverach. I think I might become a great -divine with such stimulating society." - -Elmslie's connection with the Congregationalists not only greatly -heightened his estimate of the loyalty and piety still abiding in the -Nonconformist churches of England; it also brought him more fully into -the current of modern life. He began to be deeply interested in -politics, which he had previously rather held aloof from, became a -diligent reader of newspapers, and was led to an absorbing interest in -Socialism, on which he delivered a memorable address in Exeter Hall in -connection with the Pan-Presbyterian Council of 1888. In politics he was -an ardent Liberal and a thoroughgoing Home Ruler. - - * * * * * - -Dr. Elmslie added to his other engagements some of a literary kind. He -became adviser to the firm of Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, of 27, -Paternoster Row, and occupied this position for a few years with great -satisfaction on both sides. His work was to write estimates of any -manuscripts Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton submitted for his -consideration, and that he did it incisively and honestly the following -specimen, selected almost at random, will show:— - -"Energetic, intelligent, earnest discourses on the lines of the old -Evangelical Protestant school, not in any way original in exposition or -fresh in presentation, but quite sensible, vigorous, and good. That they -are not up to date appears in such a reference as this: 'The excitement -caused in this country by the publication of "Essays and Reviews," and -subsequently of Bishop Colenso's heretical works, is still fresh in our -memories,' etc. Even if thoroughly rubbed up and revised, the sermons -would only sell where writer's name would carry them, and to some extent -to preachers in search of ready-made discourses." - -He ceased to act in this capacity some time before his death, but -continued to be a constant visitor to No. 27, where his appearance gave -pleasure to every one in the place. His inaugural lecture on Ernest -Renan was published in the excellent "Present-day Tracts" of the -Religious Tract Society, and was very well received. He had often heard -Renan lecture, and was thoroughly conversant with his books. To the -_Expositor_ he made some contributions, but in spite of pressure, -delayed publishing extended articles. In _Good Words_ and the _Sunday -Magazine_ some of his sermons were published from time to time. To the -_British Weekly_ he was a large contributor, mostly of short anonymous -reviews and paragraphs; occasionally he would write an extended critique -or a travel sketch. But he was making ready for work as an author. A -remark made by Dr. Marcus Dods had sunk into his mind; it was to the -effect that men should study till they were forty, and then publish the -result of their studies. He had arranged to begin writing and to give up -preaching, and had he lived this purpose would have been carried out. -His schemes were numerous, but the chief was to write a book which -should make the Old Testament intelligible—its contents and message—to -the common people. He had made a careful study of the Minor Prophets, -the result of which will shortly appear in a popular commentary. - - * * * * * - -So his life went on, useful, happy, honoured, and but too busy. In 1888 -he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity from his Alma Mater. In the -same year he preached the opening sermon at the Nottingham meeting of -the Congregational Union. This high honour was never before conferred on -a Presbyterian minister. He enjoyed social intercourse, and in recent -years had much of it. He had many pleasant Continental holidays. But the -claims upon him constantly increased, and alas! his strength did not. He -had the happiness of being under the care of an accomplished and skilful -physician, who was also an intimate friend—Dr. Montague Murray. I need -not speak of the faithful care that never ceased its vigilance. But -although often warned against overwork, and constantly paying the -penalty in severe headaches, no serious danger was apprehended. I am -anxious to make it clear that he did not wilfully throw his life away. -He apprehended no danger, and thought he was taking sufficient -precautions. The last summer of his life he took two Continental -holidays. He loved life. His last years were his best—the brightest and -the fullest of influence. If one had been asked to say who among his -friends had the prospect of the surest happiness and the greatest -influence, he would have named Elmslie without hesitation. It was in -such a noon that his sun went down. - -He spent September 1889 in the Engadine. Although he enjoyed the trip he -benefited from it less than he had hoped, and began the work of his -classes with a certain feeling of weariness. He did not, however, -imagine that anything was seriously wrong, and accepted many engagements -for the winter. He preached with wonderful eloquence to crowded -audiences in St. John's Wood Presbyterian Church on the Sunday evenings -of October, and had promised to take anniversary services on Sunday, -November 3rd, for the Rev. John Watson, M.A., of Sefton Park Church, -Liverpool. Although unable to go to College on the previous Friday, he -was anxious not to disappoint his friend, and accordingly went to -Liverpool. His medical adviser reluctantly allowed him to preach once. -He officiated at the forenoon service, getting help from one of his -students in the service. That afternoon he spent in bed, and he was too -unwell to return to London till Wednesday. Dr. Murray saw he was -seriously ill, and ordered that all his engagements should be postponed. -On Thursday, however, he lectured at the College, but on Friday he was -prostrated, and remained so till Tuesday, when unconsciousness set in. -He suffered from agonizing headache. Symptoms of diphtheritic sore -throat set in on Sunday, November 10th. On Tuesday the medical man in -attendance pronounced the disease to be typhoid fever, and after the -evening of that day he was never conscious. His busy brain worked on. -The faithful friend and physician, who hardly left his side, says he -never heard such intelligent unconscious talk. If his mind travelled to -the scene of his recent journeys he would give directions in German -about ordering rooms, arranging for dinner and the like, with perfect -clearness. More often he would fancy himself in his class-room teaching -Hebrew, and urging the students to put heart into their work. Over and -over he spoke to his wife of what had been the master thought of his -life. Lifting his hand he would say with great earnestness, "No man can -deny that I always preached the love of God. That was right. I am glad I -did not puzzle poor sorrowful humanity with abstruse doctrines, but -always tried to win them to Christ by preaching a God of Love." Once he -turned to her with wistful eyes and said, "Kate, God is Love. All Love. -We will tell every one that, but specially our own boy—at least you -will, for I seem to be so tired these days, and my one wonder and -trouble is, that all these people (meaning the nurses) try to prevent me -from going home, where we were always so happy." He was reassured for -the moment, when some familiar object was pointed out, and asked that he -should often be told that he was at home. He was soon to go home indeed. -He recognised his wife on Friday, with the last signs of consciousness. -Shortly after he became faint, closed his eyes, and never opened them -again on earth. About four o'clock on the morning of November 16th, -1889, he quietly passed away. - - * * * * * - -Scarcely any death could have made a greater rent than this, and the -tokens of sorrow—public and private—were almost unexampled in the case -of one who held no high office in Church or State, who had not lived -long enough to make his mark in literature, who had sought no fame or -honour, but had been content with doing his duty as it called him day by -day. The funeral service was conducted in Marylebone Presbyterian Church -(Dr. Donald Fraser's), of which he was a member. Dr. Fraser and Dr. -Allon delivered addresses, while Dr. Dykes and Dr. Monro Gibson offered -up prayer. The great church was crowded with a deeply moved audience of -two thousand persons, every one of whom probably represented some word -spoken or some service rendered by the kind heart then cold. He was -buried at Liverpool next day by the side of his mother, his attached -friend and colleague the Rev. Dr. Gibb, being among those present at the -interment. A service was conducted at the Presbyterian College, where -Principal Dykes delivered a deeply moving address. "You may send us -another Hebrew Professor," said he, "and we shall welcome him, but you -cannot send us another Elmslie." - -Tributes from the Presbyteries of the Church, from congregations of -various denominations to which he had ministered, from well-known Church -leaders, from old students, and, not least, from unknown men and women -whom he had helped and comforted, poured in. They were too numerous to -be quoted or further referred to, but the intensity and turmoil of -feeling expressed in them, showed that the sorrow for him was as deep as -its appointed signs were extensive. One for whom much sympathy was felt, -his aged father, seemed to bear up bravely against the blow. He received -with eager gratitude the abundant testimonies to the honour and love in -which his son was held. But the grief had gone to his heart, he soon -began to sink, and died a few months later. - - * * * * * - -What was said of Henri Perreyve is eminently true of Elmslie: he was -gifted for friendship and for persuasion. During the last years of his -life, the period when I knew him intimately, he came to what has been -called the grand moral climacteric, and all his nobler qualities were -manifest in their full strength. There was about him the indefinable -charm of atmosphere, at once stimulating, elevating and composing. He -had an inexplicable personal attraction that drew to it whatever -loving-kindness there might be in the surroundings, as certain crystals -absorb moisture from the air they breathe. In his company speech became -of a sweeter and purer flavour. There was no austerity, no Pharisaism -about him; he delighted in fun and gave himself a large liberty; but -nothing he said or welcomed marred the moral beauty which he had reached -through long self-discipline. - -No one could know him long without perceiving that he was full of -generous ardour for pure aims. His was not the coarse ambition for the -glittering prizes of life, nor was his enthusiasm such as would have -cooled with time. In that delicate and watchful consideration for -others, which has been called the most endearing of human -characteristics, he could hardly be surpassed. He concerned himself with -the whole life of his friends, and especially with their trials and -perplexities. Dr. Elmslie was, indeed, one of the very few men to whom -one might go in an emergency, sure of a welcome more kindly if possible -than would have been accorded in a time of prosperity. His whole -energies were solicitously given to the task of comforting. If things -could be set right he delighted in applying his singular nimbleness of -mind to the situation. He was adroit in action, and almost amusingly -fertile in schemes and suggestions. I think it is safe to say that all -his friends felt it was better worth while talking over a difficulty -with him than with any one else. Even in cases of moral failure—perhaps -I should say specially in those cases—he was eager to do what was -possible. He had a profound and compassionate sense of the frailty of -men, their sore struggles and thick temptations. Wherever he saw true -repentance he would do his utmost to secure a fresh opportunity for the -erring. He thought the Christian Church sadly remiss in allowing so many -lives to be ruined by one great fault. Out of an income which, for a man -of his talents, was not great, he gave largely, secretly, and with the -most careful discrimination. - -His spirit in speaking of others, whether friends or foes was always -charitable. But I must guard against the danger of mistake. He did not -indulge in indiscriminate laudation. His perception of character was -very keen, he was not a hero-worshipper, and he had always a certain -impatience of extravagant and unmeasured speech. But he had learned the -secret of not expecting from people more than they have to give, and -this, along with the generosity of his nature, helped him to make large -allowance for what seemed unhopeful and disappointing, and made him -eager to do justice and more than justice to whatever was good. On -occasion however, he would with grave kindness point out the limitations -of a character, and sometimes, though very rarely, he would be moved to -vehemence as he spoke of modern religious Pharisaism. - -In conversation he was ready alike to listen and to speak. Nothing gave -him greater delight than a long and animated talk. He loved -individuality in whatever sphere it was manifested, and would often -relate with delight the racy remarks made to him by poor people. Of -decorous commonplace he was rather impatient, and complained once that a -young man of promise, with whom he had spent a day, had said nothing -during the whole of it but what he ought to have said. - -Dr. Elmslie had abundantly that charity which "rejoiceth not in -iniquity." It gave him real pain to hear of the mistakes and misfortunes -of men. Without a trace of jealousy, he delighted in any success or -happiness that came to his friends. Of all virtues he most admired -magnanimity, and when he was told of generous actions, his face would -glow with pleasure. To the spirit of malice and revenge he was always -and utterly opposed. Like other public men he was occasionally attacked; -the fancied breadth of his religious views excited animosity in certain -quarters and was at times the subject of anonymous letters. He would -regret that his critics did not know him better, and might show pain for -the moment, but it was soon past. He never in any way retaliated. - -Dr. Elmslie had no dæmonic passion for literature. For books as books he -had no love, and this indifference disturbed some of his associates not -a little. When he had got out of a book what he could he exchanged it -for another. Hence his personal library was small, consisting mostly of -Oriental literature, and some favourite French and German works. But his -reading was wide, and he knew the best in everything. He was master of -French, German, Italian, and Dutch, and had a working knowledge of other -languages. Of his preferences in literature he did not often speak; when -he did he would say that to George Eliot and Goethe he owed much and -very much. - -No one could be his friend without perceiving that he was through and -through a Christian. In his later years his doubts seemed completely -conquered. You saw nothing but the strength he had gained in overcoming -them. He held his faith with a certain large simplicity, but with -absolute conviction. Among all his attracting qualities the chief was -his great hope in God. He was indeed "very sure of God." Latterly, he -could hardly listen without impatience to gloomy forecasts of the -future. He believed that all was right with the world; that Christ was -busy saving it, and would see of the travail of His soul. Men prone to -darker thoughts loved him very much for that. No sickness, no bodily -suffering, ever altered this mood of trust and hope. - -His dogmatic position is not easy to define. Although liberal in his -views he disliked rashness; and avoided giving offence so far as he -could. My impression is, that he held an attitude of suspense towards -many debated questions. He did not feel the need of making up his mind. -The truths of which he was sure gave him all the message he needed, and -these were independent of the controversies of the hour. But he kept an -open mind, and was ever ready to add to his working creed. He could not -preach what did not thoroughly possess his own soul, but never dreamt -that he had reached finality, and I think was increasingly disposed to -respect the doctrines, which, as history proves, have stirred and -commanded men. A thorough Liberal and Nonconformist, he knew -comparatively little of the Church of England, and was repelled by its -exclusive spirit, but when told of the great qualities of the younger -High Church leaders, he listened with interest and pleasure. He was -happy in being able to think more kindly and hopefully of men from whom -he was divided in principle. As has been already said, he considered the -spiritual life of Congregationalists very deep and true; he loved the -warm old-fashioned piety he found among them, and heartily believed in -their future. Of the differences among Nonconformists he made nothing, -was a vehement advocate of union, and strongly opposed to whatever -interrupted cordial relations between Churches. - -Though never chary in speaking of his religious experiences he did not -obtrude them. A real belief in immortality he thought could hardly exist -without other faiths being right. Such a belief would give life its true -shape and colour. He was very patient of honest doubts, but had to make -himself sure that they were honest, not the cloak of moral laxness. What -he loved best to speak of was the magnificence of Divine grace—the love -of God commended in Christ's death. - - * * * * * - -But it is time to lay down the pen. We may apply to Dr. Elmslie words, -used, I think, about an American writer: his charm was of the kind that -we fail to reduce to its grounds. It was like that of the sweetness of a -piece of music, or the softness of fine September weather. In a certain -way it was vague, indefinable, inappreciable; but it is what we must -point to, for nothing he has left behind gives any adequate idea of his -powers. Friendship occupied an immense space in his life, and all who -knew him are conscious that, - - Now the candid face is hid, - The frank, sweet tongue has ceased to move, - -something has gone from them never to be replaced till that daybreak -which shall unite all who belong to one another. But over the sense of -their own loss there rises and remains the feeling how much God -indicates in this life of which only some small portion is fulfilled. -The world of expectation and love thus suddenly closed for earth must be -open somewhere. There must be ministries in other spheres for which he -was prepared and summoned. His life must—we know not how—be complete in -Him, Who alone of all who lived fully achieved His life's programme, Who -came down from Heaven to do His Father's business, and having done it -died. - - -I. - - FROM THE REV. PROFESSOR MARCUS DODS, D.D. - - "From my first acquaintance with the late Professor Elmslie, I availed - myself of every opportunity of seeing him, for intercourse with him - never failed to be inspiring. Our acquaintance may be said to have - culminated in a five weeks' tramp through the Black Forest and the - Tyrol, in company with Professor Drummond—to myself a - never-to-be-forgotten holiday. Often compelled to sleep in one room, - and always thrown upon one another from sunrise to sundown, we came to - have a tolerably complete insight into one another's character. And for - my own part, I never ceased to marvel at the unfailing good humour and - gaiety with which Elmslie put up with the little inconveniences - incident to such travel, at the brightness he diffused in four - languages, at the sparkling wit with which he seasoned the most - commonplace talk, and at the ease and felicity with which he turned his - mind to the gravest problems of life and of theology, and penetrated to - the very heart of them. His cleverness, his smartness of repartee, his - nimbleness of mind, his universal sympathy and complete intelligence - were each hour a fresh surprise, and were as exhilarating as the - mountain air and the new scenes through which we were passing. I have - often reproached myself with not treasuring the fine sayings with which - he lifted us into a region in which former difficulties were scarcely - discernible and not at all disturbing. But, indeed, one might as well - have tried to bottle the atmosphere for home consumption, for into - everything he said and did he carried a buoyancy and a light all his - own. - - "As a preacher Professor Elmslie was, in many of the highest qualities - of a preacher, without a peer. No one, I think, appreciated more highly - than he the opportunity the preacher of Christ has to apply balm to all - the wounds of humanity, and no one exercised this function with a more - intelligent or tender sympathy or with happier results. No human - condition, physical, mental, or spiritual, seemed beyond his ken, and - none but found in him the suitable treatment. His wealth of knowledge, - his unerring spiritual insight, and his rare felicity of language gave - him the ear of cultured and uncultured, of the believer and the sceptic - alike. It has always seemed doubtful to some of his friends whether - such exceptional aptitude for preaching should have been, even in any - degree, sacrificed to professorial work. Yet he himself delighted in - that work, and the very last time I saw him he was full of enthusiasm - for Old Testament studies, and hopeful of what might be done by himself - and his fellow-labourers in this field. - - "When so energetic an individuality is withdrawn the world suffers an - appreciable loss; and one cannot yet think of the place he filled, or - of the place we all hoped he would yet fill, without a keen shoot of - pain." - - -II. - - FROM PROFESSOR HENRY DRUMMOND. - - "DEAR MR. NICOLL,—It is futile to plead want of recollection as an - excuse for what must be a too brief contribution to your little - portrait, for no one who ever knew Elmslie could ever forget him. But - the truth is, I never knew him well. At college he was too much my - senior for me to have presumed to know him, and in after years we - scarcely ever met, except on one occasion, for more than a passing - moment. - - "I never heard Elmslie preach, or lecture, or do anything public. I - knew him chiefly as a human being. Elmslie off the chair was one of - the most attractive spirits who ever graced this planet. It was not so - much his simple character, or the bubbling and irresistible - _bonhommie_, or even the amazing versatility of his gifts, but a - certain radiance that he carried with him, a certain something that - made you sun yourself in his presence, and open the pores of your - soul, and be happy. I think I can recall no word that he ever spoke, - or even any idea that he ever forged, but the _man_ made an impression - on you indelibly delightful and joyous. - - "My first distinct impression of him was crossing the College - quadrangle with 'Romola' under his arm. He was kind enough to stop and - introduce me to the authoress, whom I forthwith proceeded to cultivate - assiduously. Shortly after this Elmslie gave a supper-party, a function - much too rare among Scotch students. I had the honour to be invited to - represent the juniors—an act of pure mercy, for I then neither knew - Elmslie nor his set. If I were now asked by a senior man at college how - he could best influence his less-advanced colleagues, I should answer, - 'Make him your debtor for life by asking him up to your rooms.' Of the - entertainment itself—the literary entertainment, I mean—I remember - little; it was the being there that helped me. And what I do remember I - do not know that I ought to divulge, for the _pièce de resistance_ was - the Hans Breitman Ballads, which Elmslie carved and served himself, - with extraordinary relish, throughout most of the evening. - - "It was this same man, unchanged by the weight of years and work, whom - I met several years after in the Black Forest, and accompanied for some - weeks in a walking tour. The third member of the party was Dr. Marcus - Dods, and we tramped with our knapsacks through the Tyrol, the dolomite - country, and the Saltzkammergut. Elmslie at first was full of the - Strasburg professors under whom he had been studying, but after a few - days I saw no more of his wisdom, for he gave himself up like a - schoolboy to the toys of St. Ulrich and the Glockner glaciers. But of - this most perfect of all vacations nothing now remains with me but an - impression of health, sunshine, and gentle friendship. - - "Elmslie's graver side I can only dimly realise from the appearances he - used to make in the Theological Society of the New College, Edinburgh. - I do not remember even the theme of any debate in which he ever took - part, but the figure and voice, and especially the look of the student - as he stood up there amidst the almost awe-stricken hush of his - classmates, lives most vividly in my mind. When Elmslie spoke every one - felt that he at least had something to give, some message of his own. - He never seemed to be merely saying things, _i.e._ 'making a speech,' - but to be thinking aloud, and that with an intensity and originality - most inspiring and impressive. His voice and tone had that conviction - in them which was as impossible to define as to resist. I could with - difficulty imagine any one moving the previous question after Elmslie. - Another peculiarity, which added greatly to his power, was that he - thought with his whole face. In fact, in listening to him one did not - so much hear a man speaking as see a man thinking. His eyes on these - occasions would become very large and full of light, not of fire or - heat, but of a calm luminosity, expressive of a mingled glow of reason, - conscience, and emotion. - - "One of the last things I read of Elmslie saying was that what people - needed most was _comfort_. Probably he never knew how much his mission, - personally, was to give it. I presume he often preached it, but I think - he must always have _been_ it. For all who knew him will testify that - to be in his presence was to leave care, and live where skies were blue. - - "Yours very sincerely, - "HENRY DRUMMOND. - "BRINDISI, _March 17th, 1890_." - - -III. - - FROM THE REV. JOHN SMITH, M.A. - - "BROUGHTON PLACE UNITED PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, EDINBURGH. - - "It is very difficult, in a few sentences, to convey to another the - impression which gradually grows up from frequent contact with a nature - so sympathetic, clear-sighted, active, and many-sided in its activities - as that of a fellow-student and friend like Elmslie. Acquaintance with - him was mainly confined to two widely sundered periods, both of them - anterior to the last, crowded, brilliant years. - - "It was during the session of 1866-67, at King's College, Aberdeen, - that I first met him. As every one who knew the Aberdeen of that time - is aware, the third year was to most students peculiarly severe. Bain—a - consummate teacher—made distinction in his class appear the blue ribbon - of the college course, for which the best men earnestly contended. - Fuller was merciless in his demands upon his senior mathematical class, - who found, as the months went on, that it was less and less possible to - keep him in sight. And with 'Davy' Thomson there was no trifling,—fear - of his sarcasm greatly helping our thirst for natural philosophy. As - the session advanced the chariots of most of us drave heavily. Elmslie, - however, who studied everything, seemed to do his work with a masterful - ease which impressed us all. He came up smiling to an examination as if - it were a thing of nought. Study could not blanch the fresh bloom on - his cheek, or damp the lively play of spirit which characterized him - then as much as in after years. I have just been looking at his - portrait in our class group, and at his clear bold signature in the - lithographed autographs which accompanied it. To a singular extent his - personal character was formed, and his peculiar excellencies were - developed, at that early date. He was, when little more than a boy, a - man whose words clung to you, whose ways lingered in your memory. Even - then, too, he had something of that sweet hopeful Christian spirit - which was to make his preaching so helpful. One student, whose - opportunities had been few, whose struggle had been painful in the - extreme, used to speak to me with enthusiasm of Elmslie's kindly notice - and assistance. While other natures were but emerging from chaos, - barely conscious to themselves, giving but the faintest indication to - others what they were to be, he whose course was to be so soon run, was - already girt up and disciplined for life's way. - - "After our college course was completed, I did not meet him till 1878, - when already he had been for some time minister in Willesden. On more - than one occasion, I stayed with him for a day or two, and saw with my - own eyes how full and many-sided a life he was living then, even before - fame came. He was carrying on his studies, advising publishers with - regard to learned and bulky MSS., superintending a railway mission, - maintaining in briskest activity the work of his congregation, and in - these and many other channels winning 'golden opinions from all sorts - of people.' Especially did I admire his faculty of adapting himself to - English ways of thinking and feeling. And amid this abounding life, and - with the promise of all that came after bright before him, he was so - unaffected and ingenuous and humble, never shrinking from his future, - yet not feverishly anticipating it, that it was impossible not to love - him. Here, too, he showed his skill in discovering elements of strength - in men whom others would dismiss as incompetent. I remember a - missionary who succeeded to the astonishment of everybody, and I verily - believe of himself, under his kindly and stimulating superintendence. - It is one of the pleasant memories of my life that I carried the motion - in Synod which made it possible for him to be elected as permanent - Professor. I remember how the Willesden flock were between smiles and - tears all that day, and how when the second vote was carried which - severed the tie between their minister and them, they did not know - whether to be grieved or glad, so strong was their love, so eager was - their desire for his advancement. No one could hear him speak that - night and doubt his future. All that the great world has since seen in - him, we knew to be there, and more, which would have been revealed had - not death so soon sealed his lips. - - "Of the later years, others will speak. Out of these earlier memories I - have woven—all unskilfully I fear, yet with sincere affection—this - modest wreath for his tomb." - - -IV. - - FROM THE REV. JAMES STALKER, D.D. - - "6 CLAIRMONT GARDENS, GLASGOW, - "_March 24th, 1890_. - - "DEAR MR. NICOLL,—What a bright time it is to look back to! There is - nothing else in life afterwards quite equal to it. Never again can one - mingle day by day with so many picked men; never is thought so free; - never are there such discoveries and surprises. Those years in the New - College have in the retrospect almost a dazzling brightness, and - Elmslie contributed more, perhaps, than any one else to make them what - they were. - - "I just missed being by his side all the four years, for we entered - together; but after a week or so I left to go abroad with the Barbours, - to whom I was tutor. I have no recollection of him that session, for I - had not gone in for the bursary examination, where any one competing - with him was pretty certain to be made aware of Elmslie to his cost. - Next session, when I returned, I was of course separated from him by a - year, which makes a great difference in college life. But for three - sessions we must have met nearly every day, and I was thrown into the - closest contact with him in the committees and societies where students - of the different years come together. - - "The Theological Society was at that time the centre of the life of the - College. Under Robertson Smith, Lindsay and Black, whose last year was - Elmslie's first, it had entered on a career of the most brilliant - activity, in which, I suppose, it has never faltered since. We used to - say, in our exaggerative way, that we got more good from it than from - all the classes put together. And indeed it would be difficult to - over-estimate the gain to be obtained from debates for which the - leading men prepared carefully, being stimulated by audiences of fifty - or a hundred to do their very utmost. Questions of Biblical Criticism - were at that time the staple of the most important discussions; and - then were fought out in secret the very battles which are now about to - be fought out in the Church under the eyes of the world, with very much - the same division of parties and amid the play of the same passions. - - "It was here that Elmslie first unfolded his marvellous powers as a - speaker. At the University I had been a member of the Dialectic, where - there were one or two fine speakers. One of them was more fluent and - agreeable to listen to than any one I have ever heard since; - another—long ago, alas! gone over to the majority—spoke with a freer - play of mere intellectual force than even Elmslie possessed. But I had - never before, and have never since, heard speaking which, taken all in - all, quite came up to that to which Elmslie treated us Friday after - Friday. The combination of powers was the marvel of it—the knowledge, - the clearness of exposition, the fecundity of ideas, the telling force - with which he put his points, the play of fancy, the exuberant wit and - humour, the tenderness and pathos into which he could glide for a - moment if it invited him; there was no resource which he had not at - perfect command. Yet it was entirely without display; he was always - perfectly natural and familiar. He never won a triumph which humiliated - any one; and, whilst others by expounding the same free views excited - bitter feelings of opposition, he had the gift of saying the most - revolutionary things in such a way that no one was hurt; his weapon, - though it cut deep, having the marvellous property of diffusing an - anæsthetic on the wound it made. - - "If it is necessary to throw some shade into a picture so bright, I - should say that in those days his speaking had one defect: while he had - always complete mastery of his subject, he rarely made the impression - that the subject had complete mastery of him. He could play with it so - easily, and he could play so easily with his audience, that, as part of - the audience, you felt that you were not quite sure whether he was - giving you all his mind or only as much of it as he considered good for - you. He had not yet been gripped so tightly by the realities of life as - he was later, when his sense of the wrong and misery of the world - transformed his eloquence into an irresistible stream of passion and - made him the most earnest and whole-hearted of comforters. As yet the - bantering, laughing element was in excess; and he did not always - remember where to draw the line in the _abandon_ of animal spirits. I - used to wonder how it would do when he was settled as the moderator of - a session of 'douce' Scotch elders. - - "But to us at the time it was splendid. It was in one of our sessions - that Dr. Blaikie founded the College dinner, which has since proved so - valuable an institution, bringing all the students together daily in a - social capacity; and any day you could have told where Elmslie was - seated at the table by the explosions of laughter rising in that - quarter all through the meal. Men strove to sit near him, and he - diffused a glow up and down, his budget of stories never getting - exhausted or his flow of spirits flagging. I well remember a speech he - made at the close of the first session during which the dinner existed, - to thank Professor Blaikie for his efforts on behalf of the students - and congratulate him on the success of his experiment. It was, perhaps, - the most remarkable of all Elmslie's speeches. Professors and students - alike were simply convulsed with laughter, and one explosion followed - another, till the assembly was literally dissolved; yet under all the - nonsense there was capital sense, and the duty which he had undertaken - could not have been more gracefully or completely discharged. - - "On the serious side of college life he was equally a leader. His - enormous influence over his fellow-students was uniformly pure and - elevating; and in confidential hours, when conversation went down to - the depths of experience, it was easy to see that his life, which was - so gay and exuberant on the surface, was deeply rooted in loyalty to - Christ. He threw himself heartily into the work of the Missionary - Society in the Cowgate and the High Street. We began one winter to - speak in the open air, but none of us were successful till we brought - down Murray, who afterwards also went to the English Presbyterian - Church and finished his career even sooner than Elmslie. Murray was no - scholar, but in ten minutes he had a crowd round him extending halfway - across the street, while we could never attract more than forty or - fifty. It was a lesson which we often afterwards discussed with no - small astonishment. - - "I remember an incident of the Mission which Elmslie used to tell with - great gusto. He was addressing the Children's Church on the story of - Samson and the lion, when, observing that the children were not - attending, he, instead of saying that the lion roared, emitted as near - an approach to the roar itself as he could command. Instantly there was - breathless attention; and when, after pausing long enough to allow for - the full effect, he was about to proceed, a little girl cried out - anxiously, 'O sir, do it again!' On another occasion he stopped to - reprove rather sharply a boy who was very restless, when a companion, - springing up, told him with great solemnity that he ought not to speak - so to this boy, because he was deaf and dumb. Taken completely aback, - Elmslie began humbly to apologise, when the whole class burst out into - a shout of laughter at the skill with which he had been taken in. The - boy could both hear and speak. - - "After he went south I saw him very seldom. Once he caught me in London - and took me out to preach at Willesden, where I was immensely impressed - with his hold on the people and the extent of the field of influence he - had opened up. Like his other friends, I was very impatient for some - literary production worthy of his genius, and, when the brilliant tract - on Renan appeared, I took the liberty of writing him urgently on the - subject. It was always my hope that before very long we should be able - to entice him back across the Border, to adorn a chair in one of our - colleges. I did not hear of his illness till you wrote me that he was - just dying. 'God moves in a mysterious way.' I have no hesitation in - saying that Elmslie was by far the most brilliant man I have ever - known, and there was never a human being more lovable. He seemed to be - the man we needed most; but it is little we know; the Master must have - had need of him elsewhere. - - "Believe me yours most truly, - "JAMES STALKER." - - - - -SERMONS. - - - - -I. - -_CHRIST AT THE DOOR._ - -"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, -and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and -he with Me."—REV. iii. 20. - - -God is close to us. Every moment of our life He is doing countless -things in us and around us. If a man were to do these things we should -see him with our eyes, we could touch him with our hands; we should not -fail to observe his presence. Because we cannot see God with our bodily -eye, or grasp Him with our hand, we forget His working, we lose sight of -His nearness. - -When you were children, some time or other, I suppose, in your young -lives, you got hold of a flower-seed, and planted it in a pot of moist -earth, and set it in the sunniest corner of your room. Morning after -morning, when you awoke, you ran to see if the flower had begun to grow. -At last your eagerness was rewarded by the sight of some tiny leaves -which had sprung up during one night. Then the stalk appeared, frail and -tender, and then more leaves, and buds, and branchlets, till at length -there stood, blooming before you, a fair and fragrant flower. - -Who made it? Somebody worked to produce that flower. It could not make -itself. The dead earth could not shape that lovely leaf; the bright -sunshine could not paint those tendrils. A deep-thinking man, when he -sees these wonderful things, must ask himself, Who fashioned them? Not -the sunshine nor the air, but God, if there is a God, willed that that -plant should grow. God toiled to make the plant—in your room, at your -side. - -At this moment, in your breast, your heart is beating. All your life it -has gone on beating. It is not you who sustain its motion. Even when you -forget it, when you are asleep, its pulsations do not cease. Somebody -works to keep your heart beating. God, who is the foundation of all -life, out of whose loving heart it streams, and back to whom it must -return, has to remember your heart. - -But God comes still nearer to you. Do you remember a time in your life -when, in your inmost heart, that hidden, secret chamber where you dream -your dreams, and love your loves, and pour out your sorrows all alone, -you felt a strange influence? It was a vague unrest, a great -self-weariness. It was as if all brightness, hope, and satisfaction had -gone from your life, and had left behind them, in departing, a sick, -wistful longing to find something new, something brighter, better, and -more noble than you yet had known. It was as if you could hear voices -calling, and your heart moved within you, as if some new friend might be -there. Do you know what that was? It was God. It was the great Heart -that made your heart, longing and pleading to have it for His own. -"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and -open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with -Me." Do you believe that? You, men and women, who love your Bible, and -are angry if any man seems to speak against it, or throw doubt upon one -jot or tittle of its letter, have you ever thought what that means if it -is true? Ay! it stands written there, and you have read it a hundred -times, and think you believe it; but do you indeed know what it means? -It means that God, the Eternal, Infinite, Almighty God, who wields these -worlds of shining stars, and keeps them in their mighty courses; that -God, the Spotless, the Holy, the Stainless, cares with a great longing -to have the heart and love of _you_; you, who are no saint; you, the -most commonplace and lowly, the most insignificant and sinful of men. Is -that easy to believe? Is it easy to believe that God would miss -something if your heart never went out in tender affection and adoration -towards Him; that He should take pains and trouble to get Himself into -your poor, battered heart—that heart which is so filled with sordid -cares as to how you may make a living, and the envyings and strivings -which accompany; in which such sinful, base, and vicious thoughts too -often dwell? Is it possible that the great, holy God wishes to get in -there? - -It is not easy to believe it. One of the greatest religious thinkers who -ever lived, by the confession of believers and unbelievers alike; a man -who laboured so much under the effort to find out God, and became so -absorbed in the quest, that the name of "God-intoxicated" was applied to -him; a man who conceived more than any one else of the grandeur and -transcendency of God, till he found this poor world of ours and the -whole universe fade into insignificance before the thought of Him; this -man, this great philosopher, Spinoza, said, "A man should love God with -his whole being, but he must not expect God to love him in return." And -the bible says, "We love Him, because He first loved us." Which is true? - -There are two things, I think, which make it hard to believe that we can -be of consequence to God—that God holds each one of us in a separate -thought of knowledge, sympathy, and Fatherly affection. One of them is -this: How is it possible for God to do it? Think of the myriads of men -and women on this world of ours, and the possibility of this universe -teeming with countless creatures of God's creative power and Fatherly -love. How is it possible that God should know each one of us, and love -us each one? God, so omnipotent, so transcendent, so almighty! But the -very thing that makes the difficulty to our reason seems to me the very -thing that should undo it. If God were not so great, then I could not -have the hope that I was something to Him _by myself_. - -Is it not a fact that it is precisely a weak, uncultured, low, and -undeveloped intellect that finds it difficult to give attention to a -great mass of details, holding each apart, and doing justice to each? -Precisely as you rise in the scale of intellect and mental power, that -capacity increases quite incalculably. It is the great genius of a -general who not merely directs his army as a mass, but holds it at every -point, knows the value of every unit of force at his command, follows -the movement of each squadron, troop, and even of each single -individual, and precisely by this faculty is able to overthrow the enemy -and lead the army to victory. - -You have listened to a beautiful oratorio, where scores of instruments -and hundreds of voices were all blended together in one tide of -magnificent harmony. How is it possible for a small intellect to keep -them thus in unison? It requires a master-mind in music to do this—one -that is fully conscious of the value of each string and voice, and who -can therefore combine them all in glorious harmony. And God is almighty; -it is nothing to Him that He is far away from you; you, a speck of dust -upon this world. It is precisely because I believe in God's omnipotence -that I can believe that He cares for each separate creature He has made. - -But then there is another question. Even if God can love each one of us, -apart from all the rest, with an individual, personal, watchful -kindness, what right have we to think that He should care to do it? Once -again, that difficulty need but be faced, and you discover that it is a -delusive spectre and empty of reality. - -Is it likely that God should miss the love of me, His creature? - -Turn to the early chapters of Genesis, and read the story they have to -tell you. They tell you how through measureless periods of time, in the -fields of infinite space, the great God built up our world; first the -stone foundations, layer upon layer; above that, the strata of mineral -wealth, to be used hereafter, clothing the surface of it with a verdant -soil. Out of the mineral world he evolved the nutritive, vegetable -world, out of vegetable life the higher creation of animal life, and out -of that emerges man, standing on the summit of God's great toil and -building, with eyes that see, ears that hear, and mind that can -understand, answering to the call of God, interpreting all the wisdom, -patience, beauty, and love in that mighty labour of creation, and -saying, "Father, I adore Thee." Do you think that man, then, His last -crowning work of creation, is nothing to God? What should you say of one -who spent years and years, and sank uncounted capital, upon a great mass -of wonderfully contrived machinery, to produce some beautiful fabric of -beneficence to mankind, and when it was produced turned away and left it -all? You would call such a one a fool, and mad. - -God made this world, and spent toil and industry in making the heart of -man, and keeping it conscious of Him, capable of loving Him. And do you -mean to tell me that God does not care for human love? It is impossible. -There is no God at all, or the Gospel is true. He does miss it when your -heart does not bend to Him. The supreme gladness we can give our Maker -is the simple, sincere adoration of our poor human hearts. - -There is a picture that paints the idea of my text. It says, to those -who look at it, what I could not say in many paragraphs. A cottage -neglected, falling into ruin, is shown in the picture. In front of the -window tall thistles spring up, and long grass waves on the pathway, -leading to the door overgrown with moss. In front of that fast-closed -door a tall and stately figure stands, with a face that tells of toil -and long, weary waiting, and with a hand uplifted to knock. It is -Christ, the Son of God, seeking to get into our sinful hearts. Is it -true that there can be a man or woman who refuses to admit so fair a -guest, so great and good a friend? It must be true. "Behold, I stand at -the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will -come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." - -But you think you can justify yourself. You say to me, "I feel it were a -mad, foolish thing to refuse to admit to my own, if it be true, the -loving heart of God, and a thing altogether unjustifiable. You say He -comes and knocks at our hearts—that He calls and asks us to let Him in. -No; many have called at the door of my heart, but I never knew Christ to -call or knock. If ever He had, I think I should have let Him in." I -believe you speak the truth, but I am certain that Christ has been to -your heart. - -Let me speak plainly to you. There may be various reasons why you have -failed to detect His presence. Perchance your life has not been so good -as even common morality would have made it, and now your heart is a very -dreary place, filled with painful memories. Perhaps you are always -outside, gadding about, and do not like to dwell alone in your heart and -think; and so when Christ knocks and calls He finds empty rooms; or if -even you are there you are not there alone, but you have filled its -chambers with a noisy, revelling company and din. The call has reached -you as a dim, half-heard, strange sound, which moved you half pleasantly -and half with pain. You turned in your heart and listened for an -instant, but there was something in the sound too painful, and you -plunged back again into revelry and mirth. You did not know that it was -God, the very heart of God, that had knocked and called. - -Again, your life may have been very respectable, but very light and -frivolous, engrossed in earthly affairs; and Christ has come, and you -did not know it. For He comes in such simple, human guise. You remember -when He came on earth the poor Jews did not know Him for more than the -carpenter's son. He comes like that to you and me. He takes a human -hand, and with its fingers knocks, but all you see and recognise is the -human touch. You do not see the heart Divine that touches you through it -with an appealing thrill. - -Thank God, there are so many good mothers in this world. Thank God for -the little children, and the lads and maidens here, whom a mother's -memory follows like a very angel, often after she herself has gone. You -remember that Sabbath evening custom when you and the little ones knelt -at your mother's knee, and she told you the stories of the Bible; and -the last one was always about the gentle Jesus, meek and mild, who came -to the world with such a great heart of love, who knew no sin at all, -who was so good to women and children and the very worst of -broken-hearted sinners, and whom men with hard hearts and cruel hands -took and crucified; oh, such a death of pain for _you_! till you could -almost see His face on the cross. And your mother's voice had got so low -and reverent that it felt as if some one else was in the room, and your -young child's heart grew so soft and loving to that Christ that died for -you. Yes, He was there. Did you take Him quite inside? Or if you took -Him in for a little while did you let Him go again, when your heart grew -colder? Oh, young men and maidens who had a mother like that, remember -her, and take that Christ into your hearts! - -Some of you can remember a time when you had grown many years older, and -perhaps had memories you would not like your mother to know of. And God -struck you down with a great illness, and for a long time you were at -the point of death. But at last the crisis was past, and you woke out of -unconsciousness, brought back to life again, weak as a little child. All -the din and turmoil of your manhood's life seemed to have faded in the -distance, and once again you became as a little child. Do you remember -how you felt when you turned that corner between life and death? -Somehow, old memories came back to you—perhaps because your body was so -weak—the memory of old days, of the father and mother, and the church in -the country, and of all the things that were said and done. And then -there came a wish that many things in your later life had never been -done by you; a strange, solemn sense that there is a God; and into your -heart a feeling of repentance for the past, and a wish to do better in -the future. And you were so tired, and wished for a friend to speak to -you in these words: "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy -laden, and I will give you rest." Afterwards you got stronger and said, -"Perhaps it was only weakness." But I tell you it was the living, loving -Christ, seeking to get into your heart. - -I cannot stop to enumerate the countless knocks and calls that come to -all of us, in those strange aspirations that come with the secret, -tender affections, the dreams of love and truth. For God's sake, never -be ashamed of them, and be true to the dreams of your youth. Do not -think that Christ is part of a creed only, or belongs only to church and -Sunday. No, Christ is in everything holy, everything pure, everything -loving, and everything that draws your heart. I would have you -understand that Christ works to get into your heart, and not into your -head. There is plenty of time for the latter after He has once secured -possession of your heart and life. Into the homeliest chamber of your -heart, too, not into a state apartment, opened only on occasions of -ceremony, He seeks to come, that He may stay with you and sup with you, -and be with you in your home. There are some people who think this would -be treating Him with very scanty respect, and so they think they must -take a nook of their heart, like a piece of consecrated ground, and keep -Him there, and only visit it on Sunday. No; Christ wants to come into -your life and mind. Take Him to your office, and consult Him about your -business; your affairs will not be managed with less skill and wisdom, -but perhaps more honourably. Take Him to the fireside, where you plan -your plans and dream your dreams, and make out a future for your little -boys. He loved little ones on earth, and do you think He has lost that -love in heaven? - -Take Him into your heart to overcome the evil passions and habits, the -things you would be ashamed to own to the most loving earthly friend, -which you are fighting in God's name and cannot conquer by yourself. You -say, "Tell us how we can do it. He is so very good, we fain would have -Christ in our heart, but it seems so difficult when our heart is so -unworthy." No, it is so easy—and yet so difficult to describe in words. -The moment you have done it you wonder that you ever asked how it must -be done. - -I can tell you some things like it. You know what it is for a great -grief to come into your heart, the first great disappointment in love, -in friendship or ambition. You did not see it enter with your eyes, but -you knew it had got in, for it changed everything, throwing a dark, cold -shadow over all your life. Some of you know what it is for a real, true -joy to get into your heart. Some of you, fathers and mothers, know what -it is for a very true friend to get there. You hardly know how it -happened, but one came right in to the inmost being of your life, and -ere you knew it, you would be nothing without him—without him loving -you. Love was all joy and happiness, and has stayed there ever since. It -has made you different; you have learned to love the things he loves, -and the love and knowledge have brought peace. - -It is just like that when you take Christ into your heart. Go to the -Gospels, you who feel the want of a friend like that, and read what He -said to poor weeping men and women, till you feel the breath of His love -encircle you, till your heart goes out to Him, and you will be vexed to -grieve Him, and want to please Him; and you will think as He thinks, and -love men as He loves. - -There are many, many things about the mysteries of our religion which I -do not understand. But this I say to you, before God: Beyond all this -world holds of pride, splendour, pleasure, and joy, to have taken that -real, living, holy Jesus Christ into your heart, to be your Saviour, -Counsellor, and Friend, your Divine Lord and Master, means blessedness -both here and hereafter. - - - - -II. - -_THE DARK ENIGMA OF DEATH._ - -ST. JOHN xi. - - -This morning I ask your attention to the story that has been read in the -eleventh chapter of the Gospel of St. John. - -The rulers of the Jews at Jerusalem had resolved on Christ's death, and -the mass of the people sympathised with them. The Master's life had been -threatened by a popular outburst. His work on earth was not yet done, -and so He withdrew into the country, to escape from the violence and -danger of Jerusalem. He went away to the Jordan, to the point, not very -far from Jerusalem, where John first began baptizing, and there He -remained in comparative seclusion. But people knew where He was. -Probably people in the surrounding districts gathered together to hear -Him teach; and possibly, as a very ingenious commentator has suggested, -Christ, reaping the harvest of John's prolonged teaching in this -district, succeeded in winning the faith of a great many of his hearers; -and so He was busy doing good and happy work, building up His kingdom on -the banks of the Jordan. - -Meanwhile, sickness came to the home at Bethany, where most He felt -Himself at home during His wanderings in this world of ours. Lazarus was -stricken with a very dangerous illness, grew worse and worse, and at -last all hope was gone. Now, I should fancy that from the very first day -that it became evident that their brother was seriously ill, the hearts -of Mary and Martha longed to have Jesus come to them, if it was only to -be with them in their anxiety, and suspense, and watching. And the heart -of the sick man must have longed for that great Divine Friend of his to -be by his sick bed. Why did they not send for Him at once? I think there -is a very simple reason. They were not selfish, as we sometimes tend to -be in our sickness or in our sorrow. They thought about others as well -as about themselves. They remembered that for Jesus to come back to the -vicinity of Jerusalem was to risk His own life, and not even for the -safety of their brother could they bring themselves for a long time to -ask the beloved Master to run such a risk as that, and so they delayed -really till too late. In the extremity of their grief and despair they -sent a messenger to Jesus—not to ask Him to come: there, again, I read -that that was their meaning—they would not take it on themselves to ask -Him to imperil His life, but they could not resist just letting Him know -that their brother, whom Jesus so loved, was very sick. It is -exceedingly touching, that simple message, "Lord, behold, he whom Thou -lovest is sick." And they knew that it would say to Jesus, "Thou knowest -how much we would like Thee to come and recover him, and Thou knowest, -too, the last thing we would ask of Thee would be, out of favour and -kindness to us, to risk that life on which so much hangs—the kingdom of -God upon earth." - -There was real danger in Christ's return to Jerusalem. He was conscious -of it, for you find that when He did make His way to Bethany He seems to -have taken care, as far as possible, to conceal the fact from the -inhabitants of Jerusalem. He came very quietly. He did not at first -enter into Bethany. He remained outside the precincts of the village. He -sent word secretly to Martha, so that not even Mary or the other persons -that were with them in the house knew of the fact. And then, again, He -sent Martha back, or Martha went back, to Mary, and, with somewhat -studied concealment, warned her of the Master's vicinity, so that when -she went out those who were with her fancied she was going to the grave. -I point all that out to you in order that you may see that it is not a -mere imagination or fancy, but that one of the great elements in -determining the conduct of the family at Bethany, and the action of -Christ, was that real hazard of His life, which He dared not needlessly -risk in perils at this time, since His time of toil on earth, His -daylight of labour, was not yet over and done. - -When Jesus received the message He behaved in a seemingly strange -fashion. Apparently He just did nothing, but went on with His teaching -and preaching for two long days. Did He think how often anxious faces -would be at the door of that house in Bethany, peering along the road -that led to the home, looking for the figure that had so often trodden -that way, because His heart drew Him to that happy family circle? Did -Jesus know that Lazarus was dying? Did Jesus think that the hearts of -Mary and Martha were breaking? Oh, He had the most loving heart that -ever man had on earth, and yet He delayed two days before He set out for -that home of distress. Now, that fact is often presented in a somewhat -revolting fashion, and I think it is worth while just to diverge from my -main theme to remove the effect of such presentation if it weighs with -any of you. It is said that Jesus deliberately hung back for two days in -order to let Lazarus die. That is a mistake—a total mistake. Lazarus had -been already buried four days before Christ arrived. Now, suppose He had -lost no time; suppose He had set out at once, He would only have reached -Bethany two days earlier, and so, you see, Lazarus would have then -already been buried two days. The real fact is just this, that the -message was sent too late, and the sick man had died; and even if Christ -had gone at once, all the same He would have found him in the grave. But -none the less the story is so told as to shut us up to this conviction, -that it was planned, and purposed, and accepted in the will of God, and -in the will of Jesus, that Lazarus should be sick, and grow worse and -worse, and should sink and fail, and die and be buried. Indubitably -Jesus, with His knowledge, could, of His own action, have returned -earlier to have intervened and prevented the sickness ending fatally. He -was absent that Lazarus might die. When He spoke of the thing He told -His disciples, first of all, the perfect, complete truth. "This," said -Jesus, "is not to end in death's darkness. Its real goal and termination -is to be the glory of God, revealed in the glory of his Son, the Christ -on earth." That is the end of it; nevertheless, Lazarus must die. God's -glory is to find its consummation, not in rescuing Lazarus from the -grave, but in restoring him from death, and bringing him back into life. -It was part of the material Christ used in building up His kingdom—the -sickness and the death of Lazarus. He did delay, not in that seeming -revolting, cold-blooded fashion in which it is often portrayed. He did -deliberately hold His hand and delay; ay, and He held His loving human -heart too, and He let his friend sicken, and suffer pain, and die, and -He let the hearts of those two women that loved Him well-nigh break. He -did it. - -Can we justify Him? Did the sisters divine truly when they sent that -message, "He whom Thou lovest is sick"? If He loved him, why did He -prolong the agony? Why did He not intervene? Why did He not at once -cancel death? Why those terrible four days of mourning, and gloom, and -darkness, and doubt? Now that is precisely the painful position of all -of us in this world of sin, and pain, and sickness, and parting, and -death. We think a good God made our world; we think a loving Father -holds our lives in His hands; and then we turn and look at this world, -we look at the terrible strifes and struggles, we look at the great -entail of sin that lies on our race, we see the ravages of disease, and -disaster, and violence, and cruelty, and see everywhere the last black -enigma of death and the grave, and this in spite of all our Christian -faith, learnt from the Bible; ay, learnt from God's Spirit speaking -often in the instincts of our heart and nature—we, too, are forced to -ask the question, "Lord, why art Thou not here? Why does our brother -die? If Thou wert here Thou couldest save him. Dost Thou love him? and -if Thou lovest, why are we sick? Why do we die?" - -The inmates of that house at Bethany had received Jesus with a rare -degree of sympathetic feeling and heartfelt welcome. They entered into -the meaning of His teaching and preaching with a degree of fellowship -and quick response that moved His heart and soul even beyond the best of -His disciples. One of them at least—Mary, and almost certainly Lazarus -too—had come very near to that Divine Lord, in full understanding of all -His grandeur, His sinlessness, His mighty love Though yet all ignorant -of a great deal about His person, and about the fashion in which He was -to make His kingdom, with a genuine purity and ardour of attachment and -affection, they worshipped Him, they recognised the Divine within Him, -they hailed Him as the world's Christ and Saviour. Listen to Martha's -cry in her perplexity: "I cannot understand it all, but I know Thou art -the Christ come from God, the world's King, the world's Saviour. That I -know, that I hold to." It was that understanding, that sympathy in that -home, that made it so sweet a place of rest to Jesus. More than -that—manifestly the two sisters and brother lived a life of sweet human -affection. There was an atmosphere of tender love in their home, broken -by little storms of misunderstanding, as may be in the very best of our -imperfect human homes, but in reality a great depth of tenderness, and -clinging attachment, and loyal love to one another, bound the household -together. Oh, thank God for every such home on earth! That is the real -bulwark against all pessimism, the charter of our eternal birthrights. -Given the grandeur, the reality of human love, as, thank God, most of us -know it in our homes, that is the absolute guarantee that it came from -the creating hands of grander Love Divine. - -Jesus was not merely loved by the family where He came to spend the -nights when He was working in Jerusalem, but He got to love them with a -very wonderful tenderness. You remember that chivalrous, impassioned -defence of Mary, when she was assailed by the coarse attacks of the -disciples. You catch it, too, in that message sent to Him—"He whom Thou -lovest." Ah, many an act of affection, many a look that was a caress, -many an appeal for sympathy that bespoke brotherhood, had passed between -Jesus of Nazareth and that Lazarus, else the sisters would not have -thought of saying, "He whom Thou lovest is sick." - -And yet into that home so dear to the heart of Jesus, the Son of God, -into that home that had for its Friend the Man that was master of life -and of death, of calamity and prosperity, of all earthly powers and -forces, into that home there penetrated cruel, painful, deadly sickness. -The man Jesus loved lay there on his bed dying. - -Now, I emphasize that, because there used to be a great deal of thinking -about God's relation to those that love Him and whom He loves—a great -deal of teaching in the Christian Church that counted itself most -orthodox, and which was, indeed, deadly heresy, coarse, materialistic, -despicable, misunderstanding the ideal grandeur of the Bible promises. -Some of you know the sort of teaching that used to prevail—the idea that -God's saints should be exceptionally favoured; the sun would shine on -their plot of corn, and it would not shine on the plot of corn of the -bad man; their ships would not sink at sea, their children would not -catch infectious diseases; God would pamper them, exempt them from -bearing their part in the world's great battle, with hardness and toil -of labour, with struggle, and attainment, and achievement. It came of a -very despicable conception of what a father can do for a child, as if -the best thing for a father to do for his son was to pet and indulge -him, and save him all bodily struggle and all difficulties, instead of -giving him a life of discipline. As if a general in the army would, -because of his faltering heart, refuse to let his son take the post of -danger; as if he would not rather wish for that son—ay, with a great -pang in his own soul—that he should be the bravest, the most daring, the -one most exposed to the deadliest hazard. - -Ah, we have got to recognise that we whom God loves may be sick and -dying, and yet God does love us. Lazarus was loved by Jesus, yet he whom -Jesus loved was sick and dying. Ah, and there is a still more poisonous -difficulty in that materialistic, that worldly way of looking at God's -love; that horrible, revolting misjudgment that Christ condemned, -crushed with indignation when it confronted Him. "The men on whom the -tower of Siloam fell must have been sinners worse than us on whom it did -not fall." Never, never! The great government of the world is not made -up of patches and strokes of anger and outbursts of weak indulgence. The -world is God's great workshop, God's great battle-field. These have -their places. Here a storm of bullets falls, and brave and good men as -well as cowards fall before it. You mistake if you try to forestall -God's judgments, God's verdicts on the last great day of reckoning. - -Still we have got the fact that Christ does not interpose to prevent -death, that Christ does not hinder those dearest to Him from bearing -their share of life's sicknesses and sufferings, that God Himself -suffers death to go on, apparently wielding an undisputed sway over -human existence. - -What is the consequence of it? Well, the first consequences seem to be -all evil. You might look on the surface of life, and when you read -superficially the narrative of this chapter in St. John, it looks as if -mischief and evil came of the strange delay of God and of His Christ. -Look at the effect upon the disciples. Now here there is not enough told -to justify me in putting more positively to you the picture of their -inner hearts, but I am going to present—I dread that I may be guilty of -a want of charity, at all events of disproportion—but as I read this -chapter, and try to think myself into it, this is the conception I have: -Had these men known that Lazarus was very sick, they would not have -wished their Master to go back to try and save him. They were selfish -enough to have been rather glad that He was at a distance, to wish that -He should not know. When the message did come I think they were puzzled -and perplexed. Selfishly, they were rather pleased that He did not set -off to go. But, on the other hand—for, mind you, a selfish man -understands the dictates of love—they said to themselves, "It is not -quite like Him. Well, it is wise, it is prudent not to go, but it is a -little cowardly. Does He love Lazarus so much as we used to think?" Oh, -if I am right, what a painful thing, all these bad, poor, selfish -thoughts of the Divine heart in Jesus! all created, mark you, because -Jesus suffered the man whom He loved to be sick, and at last to die, and -did not go and check death, and drive the dark King of Terrors back. - -Then Jesus says to them that He has resolved to go and visit Lazarus. It -is here I get the ground on which I stand in forecasting that -selfishness in them. Then they thought He was wrong. They did venture to -blurt out what was a censure: "He will go; He ought not to do it. What -are we to do who see with clearer eyes the pathway of prudence? To let -Him go and die? It was a total blunder, a mistake, but all the same we -cannot let Him go and die alone. Let us go and die with Him." - -Oh, what a dearth of understanding of their Master, His love, His power, -His real character, created by the enigma of Christ's conduct, that He -had held His hand, that He had suffered His friend to be sick, that He -had permitted him to die! - -Then come to the two sisters. Ah, what a struggle must have gone on in -their hearts, as hour after hour passed after the point had come when -Jesus should have been with them if He had listened to their message, if -He pitied their brother, His own beloved friend. What could the Master -mean? Did something hinder Him and prevent His coming? or was it the -danger to His life? Was there a little selfishness? or had they any -right to expect it? Either He is lacking in love, or else He is lacking -in power. What could it mean? And then, when at last the poor sick eyes -shut and their brother lay there dead, their hearts were like stones -within them. And the burial, following swiftly after in the East, -because decay begins so quickly there; and then the mourning and the -hired mourners, professional mourners, all around them, and these poor -women there saying in their hearts, "Surely, surely it need not have -been; certainly if the Master, who healed so many sick, had been here, -if He had come, if He knew, if He had been here all this horror, this -agony, this pain, might have been escaped." - -So when Jesus did come, look at them, how they met Him. Martha goes away -out, and the first thing she says is just what they had said so often to -one another and to their own hearts: "O Master, if Thou hadst only been -here our brother had not died." And then the spirit of the woman told -her that perhaps she had hurt Jesus' feelings, that perhaps He was not -to blame, that perhaps there was some explanation, though she could not -see it, and so, in her blundering way—for she had not the fine tact that -was in Mary—she tried to mend it, and only made it worse by volunteering -that she did believe in Him after all. - -The soul of Christ felt the intended love, and shuddered at that -tremendous distance of sympathy and understanding. "You believe in Me." -He could not hold it in. "Thy brother shall rise again." And poor Martha -was unable to rise to the height of Christ's meaning. "Oh, yes, Lord, I -know, at the great resurrection. Yes, he will rise again." Then comes -Jesus' declaration, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. The man that -lives in Me, in whom I live, has in Me a deathless life. I am here -to-day to prove that." That was what He meant, but He was far away above -her. The poor heart in her had lost Him. She was dazed, and so she just -fell back upon the one thing that she was quite sure of, even if He had -not been quite kind to her, or even if His power was limited. "Yes, yes, -Master, I know Thou art the Christ, the Son of God, come into this world -to be its Saviour and its King." And then, perhaps, with a sort of sense -that Mary could understand the Master better, could read His meaning and -tell it to her, she slipped away, and she found her sister, and -whispered in her ear, "The Master is come, and asks for thee." Then Mary -went away to meet Him too. - -It is much harder to read what was in that sweet heart of Mary. I have -no doubt that she, too, had fought a battle with doubt. The story seems -to show that she had attained to greater faith than Martha. She had been -pained, but still there was a divining instinct in her, like the -divining instinct that warned her, when all the disciples were blind to -it, that He was going to die, and she went and anointed Him to His -burial; a divining instinct in her that somehow the cloud was going to -be rolled away. And she went out and said simply, "Lord, if Thou hadst -been here our brother had not died." And then she was too wise to say -one word more. With her finer tact, with her deeper understanding, she -knew that was all she should say. But it was like saying, "There is -perplexity in this visitation, in Thy delay, in my brother's death; Thou -couldst have made it different if Thou hadst seen it well to be here. I -cannot understand the right and the love of it." It was a question. It -did say, "Master, what art Thou going to do?" And Christ felt it was. As -she broke out and burst into tears, He lost control and wept with her. - -But there were others—the Jews, the enemies of Christ; men who hated -Him, men who disbelieved in Him, men who grudged Him all His glory and -the love He had won on the earth. They had hurried out—some of them with -a degree of human compassion—to that home of bereavement. It was known -as the home of Christ, and I think some of them had come with greater -pleasure that Lazarus had died. What they said when they saw Him weep -betrays their mood. "This is He who professed to be able to open the -eyes of the blind and heal all sicknesses. How, then, is it that He -allows His dearest friend on earth to be sick, and die, and be buried? -He has lost His power, if He ever had it." They were rejoicing over His -seeming defeat. They had no love for Him, and so had no faith in Him. - -Is not that true of our world to-day? The best of you, Christians, when -death comes to your own homes, do you manage to sing the songs of -triumph right away? Well, you are very wonderful saints if you do. If -you do not, perhaps you say, "If God is in this world, how comes that -dark enigma of death?" - -And others of you grip hold of your faith, but yet your heart cries out -against it. You believe that God is good, but has He been quite good to -you? Like Martha, you feel as if you had some doubt; you feel bound in -your prayers; you say, "O God, I do not mean to reproach Thee;" weak, -sinful if you will, yet the sign of a true follower of the Christ. - -And then the enemies of Christ, the worldlings all about in this earth -of ours, as they look upon death's ravages, they are saying, "If there -were a God, if there were a Father, if there were a great heart that -could love, why does not He show it?" Now, I said to you that at first -it looks as if nothing but evil came of God's delay to interpose against -death; but when you look a little deeper I think you begin to discover -an infinitely greater good and benefit come out of that evil. - -I must very briefly, very rapidly, trace to you in the story, and you -can parallel it in the life of yourselves, that discipline of goodness -there is in God's refraining from checking sickness and death. Christ -said, the end of it is first of all death, but that is not the -termination. Through death this sickness, this struggle of doubt and -faith, should end in the glory of God. He meant this: In the preparation -of His life and His death the death and resurrection of Lazarus held a -central position. It was the turning-point, the thing that determined -His crucifixion on Calvary. That tremendous miracle compelled the rulers -of Jerusalem to resolve on and carry out His death. That miracle of -Lazarus' resurrection gave to the faith of the disciples and of Christ's -followers a strength of clinging attachment that carried them through -the eclipse of their belief when they saw Him die on Calvary. - -Now, what would you say? Was it cruel of Christ to allow His friend -Lazarus, His dear friends Mary and Martha, to go through that period of -suspense, of anxiety, of sickness, of death, and of the grave, that they -might do one of the great deeds in bringing in the world's Redeemer? Oh, -men and women, if God be wise, and if God be great, then must it not be -that somehow or other the structure of this world is the best for God's -end, and our tears, and partings, and calamities but incidents in the -grand campaign that shall end in the resplendent glory of heaven? Yes, -for the glory of God, and for the sake of others, for the sake of the -disciples, for the sake of the world, says Christ, I have suffered My -friend Lazarus to die. - -"Ah," you say, "you have still got to show God's goodness and kindness -to me individually. My death may be for God's glory, it may be for the -good of others; but how about me and those who mourn?" Well, now, look -at it. You must get to the end of the story before you venture to judge -the measure, the worth, of God's goodness. After all, was that period of -sickness and death unmitigated gloom, and horror, and agony? Oh, I put -it to you, men and women, who have passed through it, watching by the -death of dear father or mother that loved the Lord and loved you, and -whom you loved—dark, and sore, and painful enough at the time; but oh, -if I called you to speak out, would you not say it was one of the most -sacred periods of your life—the unspeakable tenderness, the sweet -clinging love, the untiring service, the grateful responses, the -sacredness that came into life? Ay, and when the tie was snapped, the -new tenderness that you gave to the friends that are left, the new -pledge binding you to heaven, and to hope for it, and long for it—death -is not all an evil to our eyes. Death cannot ultimately be an evil, -since it is universal—the consummation, climax, crown of every human -life. Ah, if we had the grander majesty of soul to look at it from God's -altitude, we should call death, not a defeat, but a victory, a triumph. -I think sometimes that if death did not end these lives of ours, how -weary they would get. Think of it—to live on for ever in the sordidness, -in the littleness, in the struggle, the pain, the sin of this life of -ours. Oh, we need that angel of death to come in, and now and then stir -the pool of our family life, that there may be healing in it, that there -may be blessing in it! Death, holding the hand of God through it, to -those that stand by and see the sweetness of human love, the triumph of -faith celestial, has a grandeur in it, like Christ's death on the cross; -it hides out of sight of the people the ghastly, the doubt-creating -features and elements of its external impediment—death becomes God's -minister. It is going home to one's Father. - -Yes, but you want the guarantee that death is not the end, and that day -it was right and lawful for Christ to give it, to anticipate the last -great day, when in one unbroken army, radiant and resplendent, shining -like jewels in a crown, He shall bring from the dark grave all that -loved Him, fought for Him, and were loyal to Him on the road, and went -down into the dark waters singly, one by one, in circumstances of -ignominy often, and yet dying with Christ within them, the Resurrection -and the Life. - -Ah, that great, grand vindication of God, and interpretation of this -world's enigma was made clear that day when Christ called Lazarus back, -and gave him alive to his sisters in the sight of His doubting -disciples, in the sight of those sneering enemies. And what I like to -think as best of all and most comforting of all is this, that Christ did -that deed of love and goodness to hearts that so misunderstood Him, were -so ignorant of His glory, denied and disbelieved so much of His claims, -were then and there so despairing, so hopeless, that perhaps it was only -in one heart, the heart of Mary, there was hope or faith like a grain of -mustard-seed. Yet He did it. Why? He whom He loved died, and they whom -He loved mourned. It was not that they loved Him; it was that He loved -them. - -Ah, when I read sneers at the simple Evangelical Gospel that says, "Put -away all thoughts of earning heaven; your good works are rags"—true -enough, true enough—the sneers are mistaken. It is a very grand Gospel -that, for what it says is this, "There is hope, salvation from sin, life -eternal, for you and for me, not for anything in us, nor for anything we -can do, even if we did the best we could. We hold the hope and -confidence of redemption, resurrection, in our hearts, because the God -that made us loves us;" and so—as I read lately in a recently published -book, amid much that I think is foolish, what yet struck me as -singularly tender and true—"When in the hour of death we cry, 'Good -Lord, deliver us,' we might stop and leave out the 'deliver us.' It is -quite enough if we are dying in the arms of a God that is good." - - - - -III. - -_THE STORY OF DORCAS._ - -ACTS ix. 36-43. - - -To a man who believes in a living, personal God the world's history is -the record of God's actions. The Bible story is an account of an -exceptional period in the Divine activity, during which God's dealings -with men are peculiarly significant; as it were more immediate, frank, -and expressive, more true to His inmost character. Then, traits found -utterance that in general are mute. Repression gave way to expression. -The incidents in this expression are out of the common, look marvellous; -we call them miracles. Such things do not happen to us, but we hold they -happened for us. They are, so to say, a personal explanation on God's -part, at once a disclaimer and a declaration. He is not altogether to be -judged by the normal course of events. His feelings do not quite answer -to appearances. His heart does not correspond entirely to His hand. He -is more than His deeds. Measure Him by these, and you mistake Him, -because for the most part He acts under restraint. His love may be much -greater than His language, His kindness warmer than His conduct. -Reticence is often imposed on affection. You do not always tell your -child all the praise you might express, and admiration you feel. When he -has entered the struggle of school-life you look on while he battles -with a hard task, till his weariness pains you, but you hold back and do -not help him. It may be my lot to know of a friend contending against -unjust accusation, well-nigh crushed, and I may not stand by him, -knowing my aid would harm, not help, though at the risk of his -misunderstanding me. God would have us know, as we with perplexity look -to His silent heaven out of our sin and sorrow, that spite of strange -seeming, His heart is love. We do not fare as our Father fain would have -us fare. Things are not as He would wish them. There is a discrepancy -between the desires of His heart and the doings of His hand. He cannot -quite trust us as He would. There is an obstacle; we should be better -off but for that. We do right to say, with Martha, "Lord, if Thou hadst -been here my brother had not died." And that we may be sure it is so, -once He broke through His reticence; He _was_ here; He gave His heart -full play, and treated men as He always feels towards them. Their -sicknesses were healed, their sins forgiven; the Infinite Love laid soft -hands on their pain; the Eternal Pity whispered peace in their souls. -Now we can look on Christ and say we know what God is. But for -hindrances, we can say, He would always act so. Spite of our fortunes, -that is how He feels. At length the barrier will be overthrown, and He -will treat me so likewise. - -This is the practical use we are to make of such stories of Scripture as -Dorcas's restoration from death. It is a marvel—what, precisely, we know -not. But, for this woman God did a splendid and wonderful act of love, -that dispelled the eclipse of death in a sunshine of endless security. -What happened to her happens not to us. But God's heart is unchanged. If -you be like her, such another, the Divine regard round you in life and -in death is as tender and strong as it was about her. - -In the important seaport town of Joppa there were gathered together some -believers in Jesus. Among them was a woman named Tabitha (Heb.), or -Dorcas (Gr.). The name signifies Gazelle, or Fawn. It was one of those -pet names given to woman, a name of beauty, though the bearer of it may -have been plain enough. Not much is told about her, but what is told is -of such a kind that we may conjecture more. Little things have a -significance in combination. Thus we can fill in the meagre outline that -is given us, till the picture grows into completeness. - -Dorcas was a lone woman. Of husband or of children we hear nothing. -Unlike those others with whom she is linked in Bible story as -fellow-sharers in the miracle of restoration to life—unlike Lazarus, -unlike the daughter of Jairus or the widow's son at Nain—we read in her -case of no loving relatives who soothed her dying bed and wept when she -was gone. She stands alone in the world—one of those women of whom we -speak as of persons to be pitied, unhappy; with a woman's natural hopes -and occupations, in which she finds rest for her instincts, denied or -blighted. - -Dorcas is a forlorn figure, stricken by grief and woe. We feel inclined -to turn away from such. The bleak, cold winds that blow across the -lonely spaces where they find their planting seem to chill our joy. We -forget that it is not thorns alone which grow in spots that we deem -waste; not seldom God's fairest flowers and fruits spring up on what we -count barren and forsaken ground. In Dorcas, we may well believe, there -was nothing woe-begone or repellent; it is as pleasant, amiable, and -beloved that we think of her. The tree of her life had been stricken by -the lightning; its own leaves and branches stripped; but it did not -remain a bare and unsightly stump, naked and alone. Lichens and clinging -plants had gathered at its roots, and twined about its stem, and clothed -it with a new verdure and beauty. - -All this might have been so different. Dorcas might have succumbed to -sorrow, and amid the ruins of her shattered home she might have flung -herself on the ground in despair. She might have been moping and -repining, selfishly nursing her grief, embittered, envious, and grudging -to others their joy. God pity those who are; it is often that the milk -of human kindness has turned sour: the fault is of misfortune. She might -have made herself a burden to all around, held the world a debtor, and -herself a wronged creditor. She might have insisted on being -miserable—as if a long face made a lighter heart. Some in her position -act so. They resent the smiles of others, and hold that if weeping is -their portion, then all should weep. Others hide under a smiling face a -sad heart, and laugh with you. Dorcas did none of these things. She set -herself to be of use, to give aid and help to others. Ah! I think it -sometimes happens that God removes the home of a woman's love, breaks -down its walls, and unroofs it before the storm, in order that the love -may go out to embrace a larger family. The hearts of some women are made -to shelter and console all homeless ones. Their love takes wings, and -flies through the earth in search for the desolate and afflicted. It -does not need the ties of home, of husband and children, to form a -loving, useful, warm-hearted woman. - -How long had Dorcas been such a woman as the story tells of? We cannot -say. Perhaps she was humbly good and sensible, and had borne her sorrows -bravely from the first, an unconscious follower of Jesus. Perhaps she -was once soured, bitter, and woe-begone, till she heard of the great -Sorrow-bearer, and learnt from Him to make her sorrow an offering, and -to use her knowledge of sadness to lighten others' woe. For she was "a -disciple." That means just one who looks how Christ went about the -world, and sets to to go likewise. - -Having made up her mind to do good, what could she do? Nothing much. She -could not preach; she could not be an apostle, and do great deeds of -healing. She was too poor, too stupid, too uninfluential to start a -mission or build a hospital. But she could darn, and stitch, and plan -garments for widows—and how many such does not the life of a seafaring -town create! She could speak kind words and do good turns, go to -meeting, and be a quiet, gentle, sweet, helpful woman. That she could -be, nothing more; and that she was. Why should she be more? That is what -God means a good woman to be. - -A homely, unromantic, dull, unattractive life, you say; good, but -uninteresting. So, perhaps, the neighbours said. So we all go on -thinking and saying, while the angels laugh at our folly. As if God did -not often conceal under the hardest, coarsest shells and husks the -silkiest of downy lining and the very sweetest of fruit-kernels. Yes, -outside it looked a stripped, bare, monotonous life. But within there -was a whole world of beauty and pathos. God knew the tender thoughts of -the dead; the rising of old cravings that woke and called once more for -buried loves; the silent, speechless prayers in lonely eventides. He -knew of memories that were tears to her, but turned to warmth and cheer -for others; of very kindly thoughts and gentle love woven and sown into -those garments. No, the neighbours did not see all this. But God's eyes -looked, and saw a very garden of the Lord for beauty and fragrance. I -know it must have been so, from the love her way of doing kindness won. -Merely to do good is not enough to get love; one must be good. It is -wonderful how some people do endless good, and yet none cares for them. -Dorcas was not a machine, actively good because actively wound up. -People do not weep such tears as fell when she died for the loss of a -sewing-machine, useful though such might be, and working for nothing. -Nor was she a woman with a mission, bustling, important, loud-voiced; -useful and needed such may be, respected, but not quite loved. Nor was -she a lady patroness, looking down on those upon whom she showered her -benefits. Those who work like Dorcas do not work of mechanical duty, nor -for fuss of fame, nor for thanks. It is but little likely that thanks -were given her. People would say, "She has nothing else to do;" "She has -no family to look after;" "She has plenty of time on her hands;" "It's -almost a kindness to take her sewing;" "She had sooner work than not." -Exactly, that was it. She was nothing more than a kindly, -humble-hearted, womanly soul, that feared God and loved men, and did -good in solid ways; one whose life made other women glad that she was -born. What more would you have her be? Are you sure you understand what -that was? - -She became ill. She did not tell how ill she felt, but lay lone and -sick. She would not burden others with her pain, and to die she did not -fear. Her neighbours found it out and nursed her tenderly, but she died. -Then there was nothing to do but reverently to lay her out, to put -flowers on her breast and in her hands; it was all the kindness they -could do now; how they wished they had done more when she was alive! -Then they thought what to do next. When one is dead there is so little -you can do, and yet you want to do so much. Then some one thought of -Peter. The Apostle was only twelve miles off. He will surely come to see -poor Dorcas once again, and show honour to her memory. And so the little -groups of busy, tearful talkers united in one resolve to send for Peter. -They would like him to be with them, to tell him all their trouble and -sorrow, and pour into his sympathetic ears an eager chronicle of -Dorcas's holy deeds. It is wonderful how much good your neighbours know -to tell of you when you are dead, and how much evil while you are still -alive. - -This was the reason why they sent for Peter; not that they expected him -to restore the dead to life. Had they not laid the dead body of their -benefactress out, and washed and prepared it for burial? Why should they -expect a miracle on her behalf? Stephen and James had trodden their -martyr path, and no voice from heaven had called them back to leadership -and witness-bearing in the Church. What should they expect for Dorcas -from the Apostle beyond his sorrowful compassion? - -Peter came. He found the room full of weeping women, telling of her -goodness, of her clever fingers; showing him _on them_ (_middle voice_) -the dresses and petticoats she had made. How many they seemed when -gathered together in that little room! All the results of the toil of -her busy hands, scattered through the town, now gathered in the chamber -of death to tell of her goodness after she was gone. Herself, she did -not know the whole. "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; for their -works do follow them." - -We die and are not much missed. The world rolls on. Yet none is quite -unwept, unnoticed. There are two sets of people who will mourn. There -are those who loved you and found their joy in ministering to you; a -mother, a lover: good or bad you may have been, but they will weep over -your grave. Or, in heaven, they smile; in smiles or tears they love. And -there are those you loved, on whose souls are the marks of your -kindness, warmth, help, and cheer; they will miss you. - -How came Peter to conceive the hope of recovering Dorcas to life? It was -not through the message of an angel, or the narrative would tell us of -it; nor was it through a special communication of the Spirit, or the -sacred history would record it, as the habit of the Bible is. It seems -to have been in an ordinary way, though under the Spirit's guidance. A -little thing in Peter's doings suggests that he followed the train of an -old memory, that he was dominated and inspired by a bygone incident. -Amid those weeping women his heart was moved: he recalled an unforgotten -scene. He remembered an old man coming to the Master with a white, -anxious face and quivering lips, to plead for his sick child. He -remembered their hurrying steps, and the eager impatience of the -stricken father as they turned their faces to his house; the messenger -bringing the sad tidings "dead;" the Master's face lighting up with a -quiet, strange resolution as He said, "She is not dead;" and then how He -put them all out and restored the maiden to her parents. Why should he -not ask the Master now? He put them all out. He prayed. Confidence -filled his heart. He summoned the dead woman from the shadow-land. She -opened her eyes. To the weeping, mourning, loving women he gave her -again—alive from the dead! - -It was a tremendous deed of wonder and glory. It was done on a lonely, -simple, humble woman. Why on her? Why not on James or Stephen? I cannot -tell, for certain. God knows. His reasons are other than our thoughts. -But I see this as possibly a cause: You observe that two narratives are -conjoined. Dorcas, for her alms-deeds, receives this miracle of -resurrection; while, for alms-deeds, Cornelius is acknowledged in a -miracle also. Nowhere else in the Acts of the Apostles are alms-deeds -made so prominent. In each story, and in the conjunction, I see design. -God meant to set a mark of honour on the love that was displayed. I -think He would guard the Church against undue estimation of preaching, -apostles, miracle-working, deeds of show, gifts; and teach us that -beyond all is love. So He singles out not an apostle, not a martyr, but -this gentle, kind, womanly life, and crowns it with grandeur and glory, -makes it conqueror of death, encircles it with a halo of most wonderful, -Divine, loving care. Not preaching, not angel speech, not -mountain-removing faith, but love is the centre. God judges differently -from us. We worship the great leaders, orators, reformers, creed-makers; -our statistics are of Churches, prayers, and preachers. God reckons all -love for Himself and man as vaster, wider, and grander. Ah! while we -think not of it, in unseen corners, in hidden nooks, He sees and garners -a harvest of love and lowly service that shall be the beauty and glory -of heaven. Let us think as God thinks. Let us learn to worship not -gifts, but graces, not greatness, but goodness only. Bend your knee to -such a woman with a reverence you will yield to no king, to no genius, -however Godlike; and bend it, for you bend it to Christ. Humble, lonely, -simple Christian souls, God cares for you as for her, if you are like -her. Patiently toil on; God feels towards you as towards her. Go forward -to death, sure that He will gather your life with equal care, not back -into earth's struggle, but up into heaven's glory. - - - - -IV. - -_UNFULFILLED CHRISTIAN WORK._ - -"And unto the angel of the Church in Sardis write; These things -saith He that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I -know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. -Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready -to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God."—REV. -iii. 1, 2. - -Reading the last clause a little more literally will more fully bring -out the meaning: "For I have found no works of thine fulfilled -before My God."—R.V. - - -The passage forms a picture—God on His throne, Christ by His side, the -work of the Churches on earth travelling up to God, and presenting -itself before the throne Divine, and Christ, as the Churches pass in -procession, judging them. The religious activity of the Church in Sardis -swept by before God's throne, under Christ's eyes, and as it passed He -saw that not one single task undertaken by that Church was done fully; -everything was half-done, and therefore worthless. It was not that the -church was doing nothing, but it was doing nothing worth doing. These -were the facts. Christ's judgment on the facts is this: "Thou hast a -name that thou livest, and art dead." A Church all whose labours are but -half done is dead. Yet there were good men and women in the congregation -at Sardis. If you read on you find this said by Christ: "Thou hast a few -names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments." - -So, then, a Church may be dead though it contains living members. How -can that be? A Church is not a mere number of individuals added to one -another; something results from that combination of separate -individuals; something very different, with fresh powers and added -responsibilities, rises out of grouping together a number of individual -Christians, that is a Church. A Church, a congregation (it is in that -sense I use the word "Church" all through this discourse), has an -individuality of its own; a Church has a character of its own; a Church -has a spirit of its own; a Church has capacities of its own; a Church -can do what no individual nor any mere number of individuals added -together can do; a Church, as soon as it is constituted, creates a new -kind of life, a new kind of being, a new kind of activities. No -individual Christian, however good he may be, can out of himself make -Christian fellowship, Christian devotion, Christian labour and -co-operation, all that social life which springs from the union of -severed individuals; no separate Christian, nor any number of separate -Christians, can produce that. A Church, therefore, is something distinct -from the individual members of whom it is built. A house is not a -thousand bricks; it is something quite different, something made not -merely by the presence of the bricks, but by their being built together. -Each separate element of the building, when united, is able to do its -share in the great work that none of them, or any member of them, could -do without that combination which forms the edifice. A Church, a -congregation, has its own character. Each provincial town in England has -a character of its own; and an intelligent man, with quick sympathies, -recognises the difference of spirit when he enters a town from that -which was prevalent in the town he left. One is Radical, one is very -Materialistic; one is full of poetry, and imagination, and literature; -and the individual residing in the town is affected by the general -spirit of that town. Every school has a character of its own, a spirit -of its own; not that each boy in the school is just modelled on that -type, but to a large extent each individual pupil is affected by the -spirit of the school. The spirit of the school exists in the boys that -dominate it. It is the same with Churches. In one congregation you are -conscious of warmth, and enthusiasm, and friendliness, and love; in -another congregation you are conscious of stiffness, and a rigid -propriety, and distance, and coldness, and artificiality. In one Church -you are conscious of a large, and liberal, and generous spirit; in -another Church you are conscious of factions, fighting, and meanness and -stinginess. That is a fact; you have felt it. A mere stranger entering -the building on a Sunday morning feels it; it is there, there in the -very faces of the people as they sit in their pews, there in the -minister as he stands in the pulpit. A public speaker said to me this -last week, "I may come with my address to a weekday meeting, but it all -depends upon the spirit and mood of the meeting; it is one thing in one -place, and another in another;" and if you have ever tried to speak in a -Church or at a meeting you will have found it to be so. There may be a -dozen men present in that meeting whose spirit is all that you may want, -but they cannot make the result; the general result of it is determined -by the mass. So it may come to pass that in a congregation there may be -not a few individual members who are warm, living, earnest servants of -Jesus Christ; but their goodness is not of the dominating kind; they -have piety, but they lack manly power; they have good feeling and good -intentions, but they have not character; they cannot command the whole; -they cannot give their spirit to the mass of men; they just survive, but -they cannot take the offensive; they have need of protection. They live -themselves, but do not live half so strongly or half so healthily as -they would in a congregation which was warm to the very tips of its -fingers and the fringes of its garments; they are living, but the Church -is dead. - -What is the life of a Church? The life of a Church is loving loyalty to -Jesus Christ, present more or less in the actual human heart of all the -members; an inner, hidden thing, that you cannot weigh in a balance, -that you cannot set down in figures in an annual report, that you cannot -exhibit to a non-believer or a worldling, but the greatest, the most -powerful force in all our world. - -The life of a Church is a living, real presence of Jesus Christ, as a -daily influence on the conduct, the thoughts, the words, the deeds of -all the members of that Church. The life of a Church is the living -presence of Jesus Christ in every committee of management, in every -meeting of Sunday-school teachers, in every social gathering of the -congregation; a living loyalty and devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ, -born out of a grateful certainty that He died to save us, born out of a -grand sympathy with Him, and under the belief that He is willing to save -all the men and women and all the little children who are round about -us. That is the living life of a Church, and nothing else is. You may -have a perfect orthodoxy, and death; you may have great activity, and -yet you may have death. Nothing is the life of a Church but actual -living loyalty and love to the real living Lord of the Church, Jesus -Christ. - -Christ stands at the right hand of God, judging the Churches. He judges -them by their works. But the life of a Church is not a thing of the -hands or of the tongue; it is a thing of the heart. At the same time -Christ has to make His judgment just; He has to go upon visible facts, -and He can safely proceed upon the Church's work. Wherever there is life -it cannot be still; it works, it moves, it beats, it becomes warmed; it -must come out. If a Church has no works it has no life. What are those -works which are the visible signs of a living Church? They are these: No -dry, spasmodic zeal for orthodoxy when some heresy crops up which makes -a public sensation; no straight, rigid propriety, and fineness of -outward form, and æsthetic culture of ceremonial. The life that is -loving loyalty to Christ, present in the heart of every individual -member of a congregation, comes out in this way: it makes hearty singing -on a Sunday. Even a man who has no musical voice, and who is a little -weary, cannot help singing when his heart is stirred, even if he stops -short in case he should make discord to his neighbours. It is all -nonsense to say that people have grateful hearts to Christ when they sit -with shut mouths to Christ's praise. I know well that habit has a great -deal to do with it. It is the way of some Churches to sing heartily, and -it is the way of some other Churches to let the choir do the singing; -and I know, therefore, that you must not too absolutely take such a test -as a standard by which you will judge whether or not there is a living -warmth, and enjoyment, and cheering in the service and in the -congregation. I believe all that, nevertheless I have seen the most -stiff and silent congregation roused to sing when their hearts were -aroused. Such silence is a bad habit. And how about the prayers? Men -will not merely listen to the words, and will not criticise a man when -he prays; men will be reverent; men will, by their very attitude, make -it felt that souls are face to face with God. Men will not be sitting -finding fault with all the blurs and blemishes that there are in the -services (which there must be in every human service) when their hearts -are being fed, and when their souls are going out to God. There will be -no lack of Sunday-school teachers; and the Sunday-school teachers in -such a Church will not do their work in a listless and negligent way, -and fail in keeping their appointments and engagements, but will do it -as if it were a pleasure. It is not the blame of Sunday-school teachers -in a dead Church if they are teachers of that sort; it is the blame of -the dead Church. How can they keep alive? Shall we put the penalty upon -those who are partially living? No; it is the great mass of death, and -decay, and coldness which is to blame. Let us visit the sins on the -guilty parties. - -A living Church will show its life in hearty, generous liberality to -every good cause. A living Church will show its life by bravery and -courage in taking up new responsibilities that may offer themselves, and -working them most heartily. A living Church is living, not because it -does one or all of these things, but because it loves loyalty to the -Lord Jesus, who died for it, and feels that goodness and holiness are -the grandest things in the world, and is eager to have all the children -taught to love the Lord Jesus, and all the young people who are going -out amid the temptations of life strengthened and helped to withstand -them, and old people whose lives are embittered when a disaster comes -upon them made tender, and soft, and submissive, by the life of Christ -in that Church and among their Christian neighbours. Yes, the life of a -Church is not a mere liking for what Christ loves, and a wish to please -Him, but real life and real love to Christ will come out, not in -correctness of creed, but in life and in work. It is an awful thing when -a Church is dead, with all the children in it gathering to go to a -Church which is cold, and to a dragging service, and to spiritless -singing, and to melancholy prayer, and to a dry preaching. Ay, I have -seen children who hated religion, because their parents, as I believe, -were living in a dead Church. I have often said, "Cut your connection -with such a Church; go rather to another denomination, which has life." -I venture to say that a father who loves his child will sacrifice -anything in order that that child may have pleasant and attractive views -of religion. But shall the child's first idea of religion come to him in -the shape of a crippled and broken-down failure? Fathers and mothers are -absolutely bound thus to promote the spiritual interests of their -children; it is worth more than anything else that is done for them; and -I say that a Church which is gathering those young people around it, and -keeping them from more dangerous places, and leading them to have it in -their hearts to come and sit down with Christian people, is doing more -than all the world will ever do. It is worth taking a great deal of -trouble to belong to a living Church, and it is the absolute duty of -every member of every Church to do all he can not merely to make himself -alive, but to make the whole Church full of warm, living life. - -When a Church is dead, or only half alive, the defect shows itself -specifically and certainly in this manner: The Church's work is only -half done, and can only half be fulfilled, when only a portion of its -members fulfil their allotted task to their Master. If, in a Church -which numbers five hundred, only fifty are doing the utmost they can do, -the Church's measure of work will not be fulfilled before the -judgment-seat of God. Fifty individuals cannot do what it takes five -hundred to do. A half done work, how it is spoiled! The army were -defending the frontier bravely and successfully; but one cowardly -regiment gave way, and the ranks were broken, and all the bravery, and -the blood, and the death of the brave men were lost—lost by the -cowardice. The work of a Church that is wearily done, in its life and -extent, by a few living men and women in it, is poorly done; they do it -with such a struggle; they are so weary and worn out; they have not -pleasure, they have not enthusiasm, in doing it. How can they have? Oh, -it is hard when a few men and women have to do all the teaching, and all -the visiting, and all the work at the meetings! it spoils their work; it -is not fair play. I appeal to you to determine whether I speak truly or -not. One man cannot do another man's work. One link of a chain cannot do -duty for another link, and if the one goes, sometimes the chain is worth -nothing at all. The work of a dead or half-dead Church stands before -God's judgment-seat unfulfilled. How can it tell on the careless? how -can it tell on the worldly? Do you think that they will be just, and -say, "Ah, look at what the fifty are doing"? No, you may be quite sure -that they will look at the deficiency of the four hundred and fifty, and -say, "Is this a Church of Christ?" Who blames them? - -A living Church must work, and it must work on, and it must send life -through every part and fragment of its whole frame, or else it has begun -to die. It is not a small thing, of no concern, if some members of a -Church are doing nothing by being idle. The work that a Church has to do -is the creation of living Christian character, and of the conviction -that being in Church on Sunday and belonging to a congregation make a -man a kinder brother, or a more loving father or husband, and make a -woman a better mother or a more kindly neighbour. That is the best work -a Church can do, and that does not come to a man through a dead Church. -A living Church must be making itself felt all around in the world -outside by work of that kind; and I say that it is not a matter of no -consequence if some members of a Church are not receiving and not -transmitting that warmth and activity. It is not a small matter if one -organ of my body be dying, be passing into mortification; it means death -to the whole body, and I must cut it off unless life can be brought back -again into it. It is the very law of life, as God has made it, that -everything which has life in it must be working; it cannot stop. If your -heart stops it is death; nothing else can make it stop but death. If any -organ in your body is always receiving, but giving nothing, and not -sending out what it gets, improved, to the rest, it means diseased life, -it means death. Does the stomach receive its daily food to keep it to -itself, as we so often receive the prayers and sermons in a Church? No; -as soon as the feeding is done the hard work begins; the stomach gives -it to the blood, and what does the blood do? As the great carrier of the -system, it delivers it here and there—here a little to this muscle, -there to that bone, there to the brain, and all through the body. And -what the muscles and the other parts have received do they keep? No; if -the various portions of the body did not give out what they receive they -would get choked; it would be death by surfeit; they must work. And so -the circle of life goes round; stop it at any one point, and you spoil -the whole circle. If the blood-vessels do not do their work, if the -muscles do not do their work, and so on throughout the entire system, it -means this, that that body is not healthy; it means death to the whole -frame. A business man said to me yesterday, "As soon as a man ceases -pushing his business, and does not endeavour to extend it, it falls -off." He does not want actually to increase it, but he must adopt that -plan to keep it up to its present mark. The Church, alas! has -not been willing to increase its work, desiring to take on other -responsibilities; it does not say, "I cannot rest while people are cold -and not interested in doing the Church's work, not bent upon bringing in -sinners, and bringing children into the Sunday-schools to be taught to -love and reverence religion, and causing people whose life is sour and -bitter to be soothed and comforted." - -What I have been pressing upon you is the law of life. Is it a hard law? -No, it is a kind law. That is how God rewards you for what you have -done; He gives you more work to do. In reading the parable of the men to -whom it was assigned to rule over the cities did you ever mark how they -were rewarded? Here is a man who has actively and effectively used ten -talents. How does his lord reward him—by giving him a sinecure? No; he -says, "You shall be ruler over ten cities;" and in the same way the man -who has been successful with five talents is made ruler over five -cities. Did you ever know a man who had served his country well, and -benefited it, wish to withdraw into a drawing-room, and spend the -remainder of his life in luxury and ease? Did you ever know a successful -general who wanted to get a big fortune and to retire? No; successful -men cannot be rewarded better than by giving them a deal more to -do—larger responsibilities, larger powers, a larger sense of strength -successfully exerted. That is the blessing and the joy which shall go -with larger toil, and grander accomplishment, and brighter goodness. The -few who are used to work shall have plenty of work. I take it as a sign -that God is pleased with the results of a Church when He gives them new -work to do, and the heart to take it up. It is not extra work; it is the -reward of the past, and it is a step that shall lead you to a higher -throne. Nay, more; work is indispensable to the enjoyment of a Church's -good. No Church can heartily enjoy what we call religious privileges -unless it is working hard; and no individual member of that Church will -get the good of it unless he is taking a part in the Church's work. He -does not need to be an office-bearer or anything of that sort; his work -may be just friendliness to others in the house of God, showing a kind -spirit to them or taking an interest in them, showing neighbourliness by -his Church character. Do not think that it is a high array of talents -that is required; no, it is the Church's function of being "all of one -mind," and knit together and helping one another, and sympathising with -one another, being bound up in the common lot of disasters and trials. I -say that no individual member, unless he is taking his part, is a living -member of that Church. If people are very fastidious about the doctrines -which are preached, if people are searching into the sense of every hymn -or prayer, if people are finding fault with the way in which everything -is done, then it may be that the Church is to blame; but if the Church -is doing its work as well as any poor human Church can do it, I advise -such a one to say to himself, "May not I be to blame?" If you think that -the daily food which is provided for you is not properly cooked, and it -is not of the proper sort, and does not taste well, is it not your -doctor you want to go to, to ask him to cure you of dyspepsia? And in -all probability he will recommend to you exercise and hard work. A -hard-working man does not complain even of dry bread; he is not -particular; he has an appetite. I have known, in the Church to which I -belonged before I began to preach, how pleased I was even with sermons -which had no originality in them if I saw that they were part of the -common work. It was my home, and you do not criticise your own home; and -you do not criticise your father and mother; you believe in the power -which you get from your father, because he is yours. Throw yourself into -the Church, become a part of it, take an interest in everything, and it -is wonderful how little you will have of criticism about you. Take -plenty of spiritual exercise, and you may be sure that even a bare and -poor spiritual diet will agree wonderfully with you. - -Christ reckons with Churches—Christ at God's right hand, what is He -about? When He was down here on earth He went hither and thither, -seeking the lost; He forgave the woman that wept at His feet; He saved -the dying thief. Oh, gentle, loving Saviour Jesus, "the same yesterday, -and to-day, and for ever"! And at God's right hand He is loving, and -pitying, and forgiving my sins, and pleased with my tears of -repentance—forbearing, tender, saving Jesus! We preach that; we should -not be men, we should not be Christians, if we did not preach that; we -could not live without that thought of Jesus. But let us be true; do not -let us hide facts. That same Jesus stands at God's right hand, judging -the Churches, reckoning with them. Oh, to a penitent sinner He is all -heart, but to a slothful servant He is a faithful Master! He reckons -with Churches; He reckons with individuals. It would not be kind if He -did not reckon with you. Would you wish Him not to reckon? Would you -like to say, "I do not care whether He does anything with me or not"? -Ah, I should begin to think that Christ did not love you at all if He -did not reckon with you, if he were not grieved and angry when you did -not do your duty to Him and to your neighbour! Where would be the -dignity of life if we did not believe in a great last judgment, with a -stern reckoning with sin? We should sink to the level of the animals if -there were no judgment. It proves that man has an immortal spirit. What -does it matter, with the animals, what they do? But God must reckon with -man, and He would not be reigning if man had not to reckon on an awful -judgment-day for every spirit. It is a proof to me that I am of moment, -and that my human spirit has dignity; it makes clear to me my place in -the universe, and my claim to immortality; it shows me that I am of -sufficient importance to necessitate God's reckoning with me. Churches, -too, must be reckoned with. It would argue that they were mere -nurseries, were hospitals for people to be convalescent in, mere -nonentities, counting for nothing in the great work of the world and the -mighty purpose of God, if we did not know that Christ was to reckon with -them. They have great powers given to them, they have great -capabilities, they have tremendous responsibilities; they can fulfil -God's purposes in the world, and nothing but their supineness and -listlessness hinders them; and God and Christ must reckon with Churches. -I would not have it different. Let Them reckon with them, and let me -remember that They will reckon with me and my Church; and let me be full -of good works. Christ must reckon with it, for the Church's sake. How -could He but care? Oh, if we did but believe what we preach and what we -read in our Gospels! It is that Jesus lost all things which men look -for; that He turned aside from every joy of life; that He gathered -sorrows around Him; that His great heart was broken upon the cross; that -He spent all His life—for what? That He might save men from eternal -banishment from God; that He might put happiness instead of misery into -every house where there are unholiness and evil; that He might make men -brighter and better. His great heart was all warm and eager for it. Oh, -what He has sacrificed! He is a disappointed, lost man if He fails, and -if He succeeds it must be done through His congregations, through His -Churches, through men and women here. How can He but care? how can He -but watch? As all the Church's activity goes by before God's throne, the -recording angel takes it down. Does He see a Church whose members have -taught the little children on the Sunday afternoon to love Him better; a -Church which has made men whose faith in Him was nearly crushed out by -sinful practices think again of Christ and heaven; a Church which has -put a man once more on his feet, and given him to his wife and children, -and they have been glad because the father and husband has loved them -again? How can it but be that those who fight for Him should rejoice -when a Church is thus acting for God, as compared with a Church that -does nothing? Oh, if we could but believe and feel, when we come into -church on a Sunday morning, that Jesus is watching all that is going -on—watching to see if our hearts are made more soft and tender, more -reverent and gentle, more full of kind thoughts to those who sit round -about us—watching to see if we speak a kind word—watching to see if we -resolve to do more for Him—watching to see if we can give liberally to -help in what is being done for Him, and to support those who have -special gifts for special work! The Lord Jesus has His eyes upon us in -this spiritual Church framework. It does bind us together, and, thank -God! I will say of ourselves has bound us together for much good work, -and I believe will bind us more closely together. If every Sunday -morning we only felt and believed it, and came and knelt and praised, -and listened with light in our hearts, we should do our work well and -have the reward of very faithful servants. - - - - -V. - -_A LESSON IN CHRISTIAN HELP._ - -"Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the [en]feeble[d] -knees; and make straight [smooth] paths for [with] your feet, lest that -which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed [or, -in order that that which is lame may not be caused to go astray, but may -rather be healed]."—HEB. xii. 12, 13. - - -Subjected to severe and harassing persecution on account of their -Christian faith, and plied by subtle arguments and doubts, which had all -the more seductive powers from the immunity from suffering which would -be gained by yielding to them, the members of the Church to whom this -letter was addressed had become discouraged, depressed, perplexed, and -some, staggered and tempted, were even in danger of renouncing their -allegiance to Jesus of Nazareth. After warning them of the doom and -misery of deserting the cross of Christ, inciting them to endurance by -the long and shining roll of patriarchs, prophets, martyrs, and by the -example of the dying Saviour, the Apostle explains to them how all this -trial and suffering is the chastening of Fatherly love, destined to -bring forth the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and finally exhorts -them to rise above their despondency and enfeeblement, to advance with -strong, unwavering faith in the right path, in order that thereby those -who were crippled by doubt or temptation might be saved from straying -quite away, helped over their difficulties, and in the end restored to -firm and abiding faith. - -The command in the text assumes the existence of two classes in the -Church—those that need help, that must lean on others, and those who are -able and ought to give help and support. Just as in a flock of sheep, so -in the Church, there will be some strong, vigorous, active, and others -weak, feeble-kneed, lame. Let us recognise this fact honestly, and be -prepared to face it. Differences and degrees of faith, assurance, -consistency, there are and must be. When the Church of Christ is -oppressed by persecution, seduced by temptation, assailed by unbelief, -do not be amazed to find that some spirits will be crippled, drawn away -into wrong, just on the very point of being altogether perverted, and -remember that there ought to be others who, by their indomitable -perseverance, their immovable faith, the unbroken solidarity and -persistence of their march, shall support and carry forward in safety -those who, but for such environment and protection, if left to combat -solitary and unaided, had stumbled and fallen in the storm of -persecution and seduction, or been clean swept away by the waves of -doubt and unbelief. - -There are ever these two classes among the followers of Jesus—the -strong, the brave, the helpful, the steadfast; the weak, the timorous, -the dependent, the wavering. Brother, to which of these do you belong? -Answer that question honestly, and then think what you should reply to -this other question: To which class ought you to belong? - -I am confident if Christian men and women would but enrol themselves not -according to their meaner and unworthier inclinations, but in accordance -with the voice of duty and the promptings of all that is most noble and -generous in them, we should not have (as we do now) in the army of -Christ the vast majority ranking as incapable and non-efficient, while -only a small minority do the fighting and defending. Clearly my text -supposes that the mass will be strong and helpful, with only one or two -feeble, incompetent; just as in a flock of sheep the greater number are -healthy, whole, and able-bodied, while only a few are disabled and -lamed. It should be so in all our congregations. Perhaps in some the -ideal is fairly realised. But looking at the Church as a whole, do I -exaggerate in thinking that there are many, very many, who ought to be -able-bodied and aidful, but who regard themselves as exonerated from -active service, as incompetent to take part in any way in the warfare of -the Cross, as persons to be defended, not to help in the defence? - -How is it with each of you? What is your habitual attitude when -goodness, truth, righteousness, Christ are assailed? In some social or -intellectual company where the followers of Christ are in the minority, -or it may be where you stand quite alone, you hear virtue or purity -sneered at, condemned; or justice and mercy ridiculed, discredited; or -the faith in things unseen rudely mocked and denied. Do you then always -bravely speak out for the glory and majesty of purity and goodness, for -the reality and grandeur of God and Christ? or do you yield to the -craven cowardice that lurks even in regenerate men, and, saying it is -for ministers, or apologists, or the strong and clever to defend Christ, -meanly hold your peace? So far from dreaming that you are bound to -defend the truth, you perhaps pity yourself for being subjected to such -trial, and admire your own fidelity, that can survive such assaults. -Instead of feeling yourself a coward, you rather regard yourself as a -martyr, a person much to be commiserated and admired, and wonder how the -Lord should so heartlessly expose your faith to such trials, while all -the time you are in reality a weak, ignoble recreant. But you may say, -"What! am I to speak when I know that I should only be ridiculed, -laughed at, beaten in argument, when I am certain my effort would be -defeated, rejected with ignominy?" But there is no necessity you should -argue; nay, if your arguments will be foolish or weak it is your duty to -keep them to yourself. But you are not bidden to argue, prove, -demonstrate anything; only you are to confess, to protest against evil, -and loyally side with the truth. And if you are not to do that except -when you know you will be applauded and triumphant, what of your -Master's conduct? He was laughed at, scorned, despised, rejected, -defeated, and He knew it all from the first. Brother, you are to "follow -Him" in all He did, and so you are to stand by the truth even when you -know it will only bring scorn, scoffs, defeat, failure on you. -Nevertheless be sure in such a defeat and failure only you shall suffer. -As in Christ's death, though He dies, the truth triumphs, and the crown -of thorns becomes a crown of glory. - -This sin of selfish indolence, of weak-minded inaction, carries its own -penalty with it. Who of us has not learned the terrible retribution by -bitter experience? If you who ought to have been strong, who ought to -have defended your Lord, were guilty of timidly shirking your duty, of -feebly failing to declare your faith, then your faith will seem to you a -poor, weakly thing, and Christianity itself feeble and infirm. In these -days of outspoken unbelief, of staggering attack, and of widespread -defection, if you think only of yourself, feel no obligation of defence, -yield aggrievedly to terror and alarm, regarding yourself as wronged in -being exposed thus, and reproaching others who, you think, ought to have -been able to silence such foes and quite shelter you from seduction, -then your faith will be shaken, your hands hang down, and your knees -tremble. But if you felt yourself bound to be considerate of others, to -be one of the strong, not one of the feeble, to defend the infirm and -the timid, how different it would be with yourself! you would have -courage, faith, strength; in this fashion doing the will of God, you -would learn that the doctrine was of God. - -In the case of Christianity men act as they would be ashamed to act in -other situations. You who are so given over to alarms, so hopeless of -the faith, suppose you were in a ship that has sprung a leak, how should -you act? Should we find you among the timid and the hysterical, who lose -head and heart, refuse to help at the pumps, fling themselves in despair -on the deck, and do their best to dishearten and impede the brave men -who, keeping their misgivings to themselves, toil on with bravery to try -and save the lives of all? There are some constituted with such -despondent, enfeebled nerves as to be excusable for such conduct, but in -the Christian Church there are many with no such justification, who -shake their heads gloomily, cry despairingly that the Church is in -danger, the faith abandoned, do their utmost to weaken and dispirit -their brethren, all the time never dreaming how weak and cowardly is -their conduct, or that they ought rather to be comforters, helpers, -defenders. - -The cause of this ignoble conduct seems to me to consist in the fact -that many Christians have got to see only one side of Christianity, and -that the selfish or personal side. They have learned that by becoming -Christ's He undertakes to save them, but they have failed to apprehend -that, on the other hand, this relation involves that they are to serve -Him. Again, their notion of what is implied in entering the membership -of the Church is quite as one-sided. They consider that the purpose of -this tie is that you may be cared for, guarded, developed by the -Church—all which is true; but then they quite fail to see that also you -are bound to aid, defend, and protect the Church. How many Christians -are there who never dream of owing any duty to the Church, but consider -it to be simply constructed for the purpose of doing everything for them -needful for salvation. Within it they are to be surrounded by -sanctifying influences, fed by ordinances, guarded in its holy -atmosphere from the world's miasma; in a word, they are to be fostered, -preached to, prayed for, visited, tended, and all the time they have -nothing whatever to do for the Church. But while all this is done by the -Church, that is not the only nor the cardinal conception of either the -Church or its members. Brethren, the Church of Christ is a great army of -valiant and able-bodied soldiers, sent out to battle with evil, led on -by officers who ought indeed to encourage and care for the men, but -whose main duty, nevertheless, is to lead them to conflict and conquest. -According to this modern notion, that Church members are to do nothing -but be cared for and protected, the Church is made to be more a sort of -great nursery or convalescent hospital, provided with a staff of -doctors, nurses, and visitors, and the Church members are not soldiers, -but rather a sect of weaklings, invalids, and infirm, who are just kept -in life by ceaseless care and nursing. - -From this mistaken and perverted notion of what it means to belong to -Jesus Christ, from the miserable failure to recognise the public and -primary obligations resting on all the Lord's followers, from forgetting -that the kingdom of God is founded not merely to foster and ripen those -in it for heaven, but that they may extend its conquering boundaries -over all the world; from these unhappy errors spring the impotency, the -half-heartedness, the dispirited timidity of so large a part of the -Church in the present day. This is the origin of that general sort of -notion as if we should be thankful if Christians just survived; as if it -were natural and changeless that the Church should be despised and -scorned; as if against unbelief Christianity should not venture to raise -her voice very assuredly, but stand on the defensive, and be thankful if -she can just hold her own; as if it were natural and normal that -Christians should find their faith hard pressed, hardly able to stand -its ground, and they themselves feel weak, timid, alarmed, and helpless. - -But perchance you may be inclined to defend this state of mind and this -selfish notion of Christianity; nay, you may think that you have -Scripture on your side. In opposition to the assertion that in place of -being merely cared for, you are to fight, and in place of being timid, -you are to be brave, you may recall the fact that Christ compares His -people to sheep whom He shelters safely and tends in a snug fold, free -from struggle and terror; and urge that sheep are not suggestive of -combativeness, and that it is natural for them to tremble when a lion -roars outside, and to count on the shepherd driving the evil beast away, -while nobody expects them to face the ravager. But do you not see that -our Lord meant that comparison to illustrate only His relationship to -them and His treatment of them? while if you are to infer from it also -that He meant them, in their attitude to the world and unbelief, to be -timid and helpless as sheep, then how do you explain that elsewhere they -are compared to soldiers, commanded to be valiant, fearless, daring? If -they are to do no fighting, then why are they told to put on the whole -armour of God, to be faithful unto death, to endure hardness as good -soldiers of Jesus Christ? Ah, we are very fond of these pleasant, -comfortable comparisons, and are constantly perverting them by -misapplying them to positions they have nothing to do with. But you may -reply, "Did not our Lord say Himself, to His disciples, that He sent -them out as sheep among wolves?" Yes, indeed, but only to inform them of -what treatment they might expect from the world, not surely with the -intention of indicating that they were to meet the world's hostility as -a sheep meets a wolf's, cowering, trembling, fleeing. If He meant that -they were to be timid, helpless, sheeplike, why did He say also, "I give -you power to tread on serpents and scorpions and over all the power of -the enemy"? why did He send them out to conquer the world? How was it -that the disciples so thoroughly misunderstood the command? When Peter, -facing the hostile judges, avowed that he would obey God, and not them, -that was not timid, that was not sheeplike. When Paul fought with wild -beasts at Ephesus, that, too, was not at all in the manner of a sheep -among its foes. When the Apostle, in the same Epistle, bids the readers -resist unto blood, when you remember how so many of our Lord's followers -have indeed sealed their witness with their lives, surely it is plain -that we have forgotten one side of our Christian duty. We ought to be -"wise as serpents" in dealing with the foe, "harmless as doves" to our -brethren and friends; but that is very much inverted now, and the chief -characteristic of many a soldier of the Cross is just his perfect -harmlessness in the combat. Brethren, you look for the crown of -righteousness that sparkled before Paul's closing eyes, bright amid the -gathering shades of his martyr death. But that crown was not gained -without hazard, not won by slothful ease, but earned on many a bloody, -painful field, while he "fought the good fight." Believe me, there shall -be no crown for you unless, like Paul, you too have fought that fight, -and kept that faith, for which he bravely lived and bravely died. - -Nevertheless there will always be among Christ's disciples those that -are weak-handed, feeble-kneed, and lame; some permanently and -constitutionally affected with feebleness and infirmity; and now and -again a strong one maimed, injured by extreme and undue exposure, or -crippled by some untoward accident. It was so among these Hebrew -Christians. Intimidated by persecution, disheartened by the spoiling of -their goods, shaken by the arguments of unbelief, several grew less -steadfast in their confession of Christ, others were perplexed and -confused, and some were just on the verge of deserting and abandoning -the faith. Among us there is no more imprisoning, goods spoiling and -persecution to stagger our faith in Christ, but there are instead a -whole world of seductions, of discouragements, of mockeries, and of -unbelieving sneers. Still, too, there are with us the weak, the maimed, -the misled; many who never have attained to much spirituality or -consistency; others who for a time went well, but became entangled in -the mazes of the world's sinful attractions, or were overtaken by sudden -temptation, enfeebled by persistent opposition and ridicule, paralysed -by difficulties, disappointments, doubts, or unbelief. - -I wish we did more fully realise and constantly remember that there are -to be among Christ's own ones really such as these, weaklings, cripples, -tempted, fallen; brethren overtaken by snares, seductions, unbelief, -whom we ought to pity, whom we ought to help. Only it is needful to bear -in mind that we are not to conclude that every one who gives himself out -as such is really a wounded brother, to be sympathised with and aided. -For there are many who only imagine themselves distressed, who give -themselves out as greatly tried and buffeted, more from a kind of mental -hypochondriasis or foolish fondness for being talked of and fussed over. -This is especially so in the matter of doubt and religious difficulty. -For just as it happens that in the fashionable world it is sometimes -proper to have a lisp or limp, in imitation of some dignitary, so, -unfortunately, at the present day it has become fashionable to go halt -of one foot in faith; and there are persons, thoroughly excellent and -orthodox in reality, who are impelled to let all their acquaintances -know what dark struggles of soul they pass through, and of how much it -costs them to face the unbelieving spectres of their minds. Brethren, -when a man has a real skeleton in his closet he does not go round the -circle of his friends, flaunting that unpleasant fact in their faces. -When a man tells you, with a smile of complacent superiority on his -face, of his conflicts with doubt, you need not expend much sympathy or -anxiety on him; like all other affectations, this one may be left to die -a natural death. No, the man to whom doubt is a real spectre, a -veritable agony, does not blazon his pain abroad; like Jacob's wrestle -with his dread midnight foe, the real soul-struggles are fought out in -darkness and alone. It is these who are truly stricken, wounded, -well-nigh carried away—these, and these alone, whom you are asked to -pity and to help. - -But as a matter of fact, how do we Christian men and women who have not -fallen treat such weaker brethren, I mean persons who have really been -crippled, really erred? The text very plainly implies that we are not to -cast them off, but to compassionate them and seek to recover them. Nay, -mere human kindness would require the same. As soldiers seek to rescue, -not to slay, a comrade well-nigh carried off by the foe, so surely we -Christians should not attack, but strive to regain a brother captured in -the meshes of temptation or unbelief. And no doubt to a very large -extent true Christians do act so, though I fear not with that unvarying -pitifulness that ought to extend the same charity to all. Do we not make -unrighteous differences, leaving room for restoration to some of the -erring, and closing heart and door against others? Partly from -thoughtlessness, partly from prejudice, partly from contempt of what is -weakness or cowardice, there are some falling, straying souls whom we -treat too much like those evil animals that whenever one of the herd is -wounded or crippled fall upon the victim and tear him in pieces. When we -hear of a brother falling, doubting, denying, have we not all sometimes -felt only anger, reprobation—nay, uttered sharp, cruel, merciless words -of final condemnation and irretrievable doom? Do we not often treat -erring ones so? It is very natural, for these feeble-handed, weak-kneed, -crippled ones are an eye-sore, unpleasant to have to do with, a -discredit to the Church and the most convenient plan is to cast them -off. Nevertheless, it is most inhuman, most unchristian, and can only -spring from one of two errors. Either you do not have that fraternal -love for all your brethren in Christ which you ought to have. When your -brother after the flesh, or your son, catches a deadly complaint (it may -be through his own recklessness and disobedience), or is wounded by some -hostile assault, you do not in anger cast him out to die, for you love -him. Would God we had more love among Christians! Or it may be the -reason of your harsh treatment is that you mistake your straying, -doubting brother for an enemy, and fail to see that he is a victim. Of -course there is a great distinction between one of Christ's little ones -swept into doubt, and a hostile, malignant unbeliever, seeking to harm -the flock. This last you must indeed oppose, and seek to drive out of -the fold, though even then you will feel for him as our Lord did when He -wept over Jerusalem, and on the cross prayed, "Father, forgive them." -But it is not of such we speak now, only of those who are themselves not -wolves, but wounded, wandered sheep. Remember, therefore, that they are -your brethren, and pity and help them. - -Perhaps you say, "What! can it be right to feel pity, kindness, -compassion, love for men who have gone astray from Christ, rebelled -against the Master, forsaken and denied the Saviour?" Remember how Jesus -treated the eleven, who deserted Him, Peter, who denied Him, Thomas, who -would not believe. Nay, more, can you for one moment doubt the -rightfulness of feeling so to sinning brethren, be they as bad as they -may, and of treating them so, you who do believe that from all eternity -God set His love, compassion, saving purpose on sinners—rebellious, -hateful sinners—without one spark of merit or goodness in them to -deserve it? Brethren, it is not wrong, it is not weak, it is noble, -Christlike, Godlike to pity, to love, to tenderly seek and save the -lost, the sinning, the erring, the fallen. - - * * * * * - -Finally, remark how the text suggests that you are to render them -assistance and support. Suppose it is a brother becoming involved in -worldly or dangerous entanglements, lapsing into doubtful courses, or -yielding to the freezing influence of ungodly or sceptical companions. -Now, direct interference, immediate intervention, is not always -possible, is often difficult, sometimes impossible. Besides, often the -mischief is already done ere you perceive it. Or again, it is -intellectual difficulty or doubt that you have to deal with. To meet the -objections, to remove the doubts, would be well, but perchance you are -not skilled, competent to do that; or it may be they are such as cannot -be removed. Here, again, direct remedies may be impracticable. Are you, -then, powerless, helpless to aid? Far from it. A method better than all -immediate and special action lies open for you, for all Christian men -and women. "Make straight, smooth paths with your feet." It may be you -cannot personally do anything to support the maimed or arrest the -erring, but you can nevertheless render most important service. As a -flock of sheep, by all moving on regularly in one united mass, with -their feet smooth down the roughnesses and entanglements of the way, -breaking down the entrapping brambles, clearing away the furze and -tripping briers, leaving behind them a plain and open track, trodden -down and freed of obstructions, stones, and stumbling-blocks, so that -the weak and crippled are not turned aside or overthrown; so if the -strong and whole body of Christian men and women will but move -steadfastly on amid the mazes of temptation and over the -stumbling-stones of evil, the feeble, tempted, erring will be helped -forward, and, borne along in the united, combined advance, will not fall -behind or be baffled, overthrown, or led astray by difficulties and -impediments. Yes, infinitely more powerful than any isolated rebuke, or -warning, or intervention, is the force of united Christian example and -protecting aid, to keep in the right path the halt, the maimed, the -blind. What the tempted, the world-seduced, the doubting, the -unbelieving need is not rebukes, cautions, exhortations, refutations of -objections, but it is to be drawn out of the cold, freezing world of -evil and doubt into the warm, living, breathing atmosphere of loving, -real Christian fellowship; to be surrounded by the resistless -progression in rectitude, in faith and love, of Christlike, God-fearing -souls. With blows of reprimand and logical argument you may pound and -break the ice of sin and unbelief, but though broken, it remains cold, -winter ice, freezing still. Bring it into the summer radiance, the -golden sunshine of warm Christian life; then it will be melted away, and -the hard heart grow soft and tender in the breath of the all-quickening -Spirit. - -Brethren, it is for this that the Master has gathered us into families -and homes, friendly circles and fellowships, congregations and churches. -It is because some of His own will be very weak, timid, facile to fall, -lukewarm, tempted, erring, doubting. Have you settled it with yourself, -strong, high-principled, undoubting Christian, that the Church is not a -club of stainless, perfect souls, but that there are to be in it such -foolish, feeble, ignoble ones, real doubters, backsliders, wanderers, -and that yet they are your brethren, little ones of the common Lord? And -it is just for their sake, that they may be saved, that He has caused us -to be knit together into one flock, that they may be kept from falling, -restored when they err, strengthened, cheered, loved, and helped. Ah, we -know not for the most part how much there is of strength and comfort for -us in this! For all of us there is, for even the very strong, they that -have comforted most, sometimes will be very weak themselves, and long -for sympathy and support. Once even the blessed Master Himself in -broken-hearted agony besought that help, and prayed His followers, -"Tarry ye here, and watch with Me." My brother, if you can remember a -time when you were enabled to endure, to conquer, because Christian -friends stood around you and watched with you, then be pitiful to your -tempted brother now. It may be that his limping, stumbling gait is very -unpleasant to you, and you do not care to be known as of his company; -his halt, ungainly walk does not look well beside your high, triumphal -march. Perchance in heaven there is more good pleasure over his paltry -pace than over your proud progress. Ah, friends, we see too little now -to judge, who know not one another's hurts and trials! We who have the -sunshine on our path, and bounding vigour in our tread, forget, I fear, -how to many struggling souls the path is very flinty, rough, and hard, -swept by wild storms of passion and rushing floods of fierce temptation; -while the thick darkness and awful solitude, haunted by mocking spectres -of death-like doubts and fears, wrap them round with a chill, paralysing -shroud of despair. You who have never been so tempted, give God thanks -and be humble, very humble, and lowly, and merciful. Have infinite -forbearance and compassion. Remember that one harsh word, one hopeless -look from you may numb a last feeble grasp on goodness, and sink a -brother despairing in the black abyss; while a kindly look, a helping -hand, a loving, free, generous pardon and word of hope from you may be -to him the voice of eternal forgiveness in heaven, and power of -restoration even now. - -Brethren, when, against some brother who has fallen, sinned or gone -astray, quick anger flames in your heart, and to your lips sharp, -cutting words of reprobation leap, let this word of Christ ring in your -ears: "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in Me, -it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and -that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." And as that word of -dreadful condemnation awes each lurid spark of hasty anger from your -soul, let these words of endless peace, and joy, and mercy steal in, and -soften all your spirit into gentlest pity, tenderness, and love: -"Brethren, if any of you do err from the truth, and one convert him; let -him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way -shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins." -"Wherefore let us lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble -knees; and let us make straight paths with our feet, lest that which is -lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed." - - - - -VI. - -_JOSEPH'S FAITH._[1] - -"By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the -children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his bones."—HEB. xi. -22. - - -Faith is a word that we hear a great deal of in theological exposition -and in religious teaching. It is a good thing constantly to remind -ourselves of what its actual meaning is. The 11th chapter of this -Epistle begins with a definition of faith, and then gives examples of -it. The definition is a little hard to understand; nobody can -misunderstand the illustrations. According to the inspired writer, faith -is recognising the will of God, taking it and doing it; that is faith, -and nothing else is—no theories about God, no rules, and laws, and -definitions about God's government of the world, no intellectual -adherence to any explanation of theology. Faith, real and living, means -that the God who comes into contact with you in your life and your world -has a will, and shows it to you. If you bow down before that actual will -of God, that it may save you from your real sins, and that He may use -you in saving the dead around you; if you adore it, and worship it, and -account it the best thing in your life, and give yourself up to it, as -the one thing worth doing, though there be many a forsaking and many a -return to God, if you hold on through your life, doing the will of God, -then you are a man of faith. - -Joseph was a man of faith, in the olden times, all his life long. From -his very boyhood he had possessed faith. In the dreams that came to him -as a lad he welcomed God's face, not quite understanding all He meant, -and a little misusing the high vocation that came to him, accepting it -in the pride of his heart. In his trials and his prosperity, in his -public career, in his private home life, on his death-bed, he lived with -God, reckoned with God, and loved God, and tried to do God's will on the -earth. One deed stands out supreme and stupendous. Joseph on his dying -bed looked forward into the future, and there, amidst the mists, -discerned the promise of the world's redemption, forecast the coming of -God's kingdom on earth, and chose what to him was the greatest and -grandest thing in his dying, and so gave commandment for the burying of -his bones away in distant Canaan. - -I am going to ask you to follow me as I rapidly sketch the great -outstanding elements of struggle and triumph in Joseph's career, in -order that I may show you the splendid feature of faith, and that in -dying he was still loyal to the dreams of his youth. Joseph was a -younger son. He had the misfortune to be his father's favourite; he was -exempted from hard toil; he was kept near his old father; his brethren -hated him for it; probably he misbehaved himself; he was no saint, else -there would be no good in my preaching about him. He had the misfortune -to be spoiled by his father. He had intelligence, and he was wide awake; -but there was nothing in the early years of the lad to give evidence of -any extraordinary ability, or to forecast any splendid career for him, -with the exception of one thing: Joseph was a great dreamer in his -sleep; and as a boy he woke up from his sleep, and saw visions, glorious -castles in the air; and they were not all floating away in cloudland, -high up above him, but he saw _himself_ in them; they had an intense -personal interest for him. Perhaps he was very injudicious, and probably -disagreeable, in the tone and fashion of telling these dreams to his -brothers. Their sheaves in the harvest gathered round and made obeisance -to his sheaf; the meaning plainly being that he was to rise to great -power, that he would hold them in his hand, and be lord and master over -them. They might not have much interest for us; but Joseph belonged to a -family that believed that they held a unique position in the world's -history, and that they were to bring a great blessing into this world. -They had not grasped exactly what it was, nor understood the -significance of the spiritual kingdom of heaven; but none the less they -heard God's voice around them, so that this world became to them a place -in which He lived and moved: thus they rose to the grandeur of the -conception that they were to have a master hand in carving the fortunes -of the world. Out of many of his brethren, God had selected Joseph to be -an inheritor and administrator of the Divine purpose of blessing to the -world, and to do unique deeds of valour for the kingdom of God. - -Now I have said that the one remarkable thing about Joseph's boyhood, -the one thing that might excite your expectation about his future, was -that he dreamt dreams; he was a great dreamer in his youth. I can -understand many a shrewd, practical man saying that that was not much to -his credit: "A lad that is always dreaming dreams will not do much." -Quite true, if the one, the only purpose of life is to eat and drink and -to gather all the dirt together with the muck-rake; but if man has a -Divine destiny in him, if man lives in two worlds—a world that you see -with your eyes, a world where money is current, and another world where -your sovereigns are worth nothing, a world of truth and honour, -generosity, love, goodness, self-denial, moral achievement and victory, -then it comes to a great deal; it means very much for a boy's future if -he has dreams that are not of earth, but of heaven. There are dreams and -dreams. There are dreams that come of laziness, idleness, selfishness, -and over-feeding, gross nightmares, fit for swine; dreams coming of -self-indulgence and worldliness, poor grovelling things; a man's mind is -not much better for _them_. There are dreams that are born of a -back-boneless sentimentality, of sweet mock chivalry, that loves to -represent itself in pretty pictures; not much good comes of them. But -there are other dreams, that come out of a man's wide-awake activity; -dreams that are the vapours rising from a fervent spirit, from the -cooling of the machinery. They work out the character that God is -weaving in that lad or in that young girl. These dreams are prophetic; -they have something of heaven in them; they are something higher than -the common: from God they come; they are the threads and fibres by which -He would lead us on to do great deeds on earth, and at last receive us -as faithful and good servants of our Master. I do believe in the dreams -of youth, that come in at that window which is open heavenward in every -young soul, until the dust and dirt of earth cloud it over; the dreams -of romance, that stupid old people try to crush and drive out, and that -the world puts its heel upon; those dreams of friendship and honour, of -truth and purity, to be chosen rather than worldly gain; those dreams of -love, generous and tender, that shall make two lives knit together into -one of exceptional tenderness and goodness. There is the breath of -heaven here; these are the golden glows in the mists of life's morning, -that come from God, and are the guarantees of a splendid sunset on -earth, and beyond, a brighter dawn in heaven. Would to God that all of -us, when we are old men and women, may be able to think without shame -and remorse about the dreams of our youth; that the woman has been true -to her dreams, and has fulfilled the sweet, unselfish ideals of her -girlhood, and been a noble, loving wife and mother; that the lad has -come through this world, at least comparatively unspotted, with a heart -fresh and tender, not eaten up by selfishness and greed, with a clean -conscience, with the benediction in his old age of having made other men -happy and good. Oh, the worst enemies of your dying bed, that will come -to mock you, will be the dreams of your youth, of your boyhood and -girlhood, should they be unfulfilled! But if you can only in part -realise them in your life they will be angels that will come to comfort -you. - -There is a great deal more dreaming done in this world than we dull, -prosaic, old people will allow. It is not merely the lads and girls that -dream, for the fact is that we do not know how much we ourselves dream; -both young and old do it, but with a difference: the young folks mostly -dream about themselves, and the old folks are tired of dreaming about -themselves; but there are the wonderful dreams in the hearts of fathers -and mothers, to keep their children pure and good, and to make them -happy. What would the world be without those sweet, loving dreams? Thank -God for them! How much it means for the boy and the girl that their -mother dreamt noble things for them when they were young! There never -was a man yet that came to be a very great or good man in God's world -but his mother dreamt how he was to be brave, true, generous, loving, -helpful to others; and because her dreams came from God, she prayed for -that son that he might be good, and brave, and noble, and the lad grew -great because his mother dreamt great things for him. - -There is a sad experience that almost all young folks must come to: the -day which breaks so shiningly, with such sweet promise of goodness, -nearly always clouds over and grows dark and stormy; the dreams get -broken, the dreams that hover over you and seem so easy to reach, recede -farther and farther, like one of those Alpine peaks when you are trying -to climb it. From the village you start from, you see a peak which you -think must be the summit, but when you reach it, it is only to find -yourself separated from a far higher ridge by a valley, which you have -to descend in order to reach it, and you have no sooner climbed up again -than you realise that this, again, is but an intermediate peak. How -toilsome, how weary it is! but in the same way dreams would be worth -nothing if you had not to win them by struggle and battle. It is the -tedium of the contest, I suppose, that disheartens most. It is not easy -for young hearts to wait for the fulfilment of life's promise till it -can be achieved honestly. Joseph is trapped in a pit, betrayed by his -brethren, sold to slave-merchants, settled in an Egyptian house, becomes -the bond-slave of Potiphar, torn from father, from his own country, from -his God, Who had not interfered to protect him, a bond-slave, his -dignity gone, all the pride of life gone! Would it have been wonderful -if all the heart had gone out of him too—if he had said that God had -forgotten him—"My dreams were a delusion; there is nothing worth living -for"? Are there young men and women here whose hearts are aching very -bitterly, and who are tempted to think that there is no outlet to this -slavery of life? How did Joseph look at it? He might have broken down, -and got wild with despair, and said to himself, "I will become -demoralised;" but though he lay down at night tired, yet he was -cheerful, and still dreamt his old dreams, and God was over him. If a -man is true to himself and to his God he will come through anything; if -he will be man enough, if he will not be beaten, if he will make the -best of things, he _must_ conquer. So presently Joseph reached a better -position, things began to look up a little, his master marked his -spirit, and made him his chief slave. - -A lad who had dreamt of being a ruler and king of men, so that his -father would bow before him for what he could do for him, how terrible -it must have been for the boy to be sold as a slave! How terribly he -must have been tempted to say, "God has deceived me; He made me to dream -dreams, and here I am left in a dungeon, a slave: I cannot get what I -want honourably; I will get it dishonourably; I will snatch the fruit of -life, even if it be in defiance of what God and good men call right"! -That is the temptation that drives many a lad to dishonesty and -treachery, and many a girl to bitterness and sin. It came to Joseph in -the deadliest form. The mistress of the household made overtures to him -which, had he accepted them, would have meant immediate promotion, -perhaps to the court; for her husband was the chief of Pharaoh's -body-guard. Could there have been devised a deadlier temptation for that -poor, homeless boy, so treacherously treated by those who should have -loved him—who had dreamt such dreams, and had such proud ambitions, and -withal no danger of discovery if he would but take the path that opened -up the way of promotion? I think that was the crisis in Joseph's life; -that was the supreme deed which determined his destiny. Then it was that -he had to stand, and stand for ever, for God and good, or to fall and -sink for ever into ruin. And what saved him? I will tell you what saved -him. When Fortune tells a clerk that he has but to take a little of his -master's money, which he can repay very soon, and she will smile on him, -what he will do all depends upon his past. Those dreams of Joseph's -meant everything to him at that great moment. If his dreams had been of -the flesh, if his dreams had been base, and selfish, and sordid, and of -grasping the world's gains, honourably if possible, but anyway grasping -them, he could not have stood. But that boy had dreamt of being a -prince, a king among men; he had dreamt of a noble, stainless manhood, -of self-respect, and honour, and truth; and he had dreamt of God caring -about him, of God choosing him to be His instrument in this world; he -was a lad in whose soul the whispers of childhood's prayers and of -morning devotions murmured, with sweet echoes of heaven. A lad on whose -head still rests the soft pressure of the blessing of his Father in -heaven is no game for the devil. Joseph turned from that temptation -without a moment's faltering; he said to himself, "Be a traitor and a -knave! stain my soul and my manhood with this foul lust!"—and in the -presence and the sight of God he conquered; he was loyal to the dreams -of his youth, and the result was that he went to prison. - -Young men and women, do you sigh? You would fight the battles of life -bravely enough, and resist its temptations, if there were a fair field -and no favour; but treachery and dishonesty are saturating everything. -It is not the best men who get the best wages. The whole city is full of -cheating. I am afraid it is so, for many good men have told me they -could hardly keep their hands clean. When you hear of a lad going to the -bad, for God's sake be just; be not hard on him; it is but the common -immorality tolerated everywhere. But what of that? Are you going to lose -your life, and stain your conscience, because another has injured you? -So long as you do not injure yourself, never mind; be a man in the image -of God. - -If you come nearer and nearer to that standard it will be a grander work -to do in your lifetime, if you live in a poor lodging-room till your -death, than to become a millionaire by injustice or cruelty. In prison -Joseph played the man; he was not broken nor dispirited. And remember -what I said about dreams. Those dreams of his did not allow him to lie -down idly in the prison; he wanted to do everybody's work. Joseph was -industrious, and kept working on because of his dreams. The keeper of -the prison was evidently a man who was glad to have things managed for -him; and Joseph got promoted in a wonderful way till he reached the -royal court, and aided by perseverance and intelligence and an -untarnished character, he became the premier, the first prince in the -land. And now followed—what, do you think? Prosperity, peace, ease? No; -immense responsibility, discharged nobly by Joseph, and perilous -temptations. When a man has overcome the temptations of adversity I can -tell him that he has fought a splendid battle, but the deadliest are -those that come in the days of prosperity. The generous deeds that you -thought you would do, when you were a poor clerk, if you were only -wealthy—the help to churches, to missions, to the poor, where are they? -You know the story told in all the collection sermons about a man who -gave liberally when he was poor, but did not give in the same proportion -when he grew rich, and explained it by saying that when he was poor he -had a guinea heart, but now it was a penny heart! But Joseph conquers -once more. He loves his cruel brothers tenderly, and he brings them, -with the old father, to the land of plenty, and tends them. What was his -temptation? It comes out later on, and with it the reason why he -triumphed over it. While the old man lived the brothers that had -betrayed Joseph were safe, because of his love to his father; but when -he dies the brothers are fearful lest Joseph should wreak his vengeance -on them, and so they come with their whining lie to him; the old father -had told them, they say, to implore Joseph to be still generous to them. -Joseph burst into tears to think that his brethren had judged so meanly -of him. But to do these men justice, we must confess that the average -man would act as they did. How came it that Joseph had preserved the -heart of his boyhood amid his Egyptian prosperity? Men and women, do you -want to know the secret of a pure and loving life? Do you want to know -the magic formula that will lift you up and ennoble your character, so -that it will not occur to you to pay off old wrongs when you get the -chance, the formula that will make you a blessing to others? It is to -open your heart wide to the sight, and the touch, and the presence of -God in your life and in your world. When I hear wise men, and men that -mean the world good, telling us that we shall be able to preserve -morality when we have ceased to believe that Jesus had a Father in -heaven, when we believe that we live our little day, and then die and -vanish, and the world goes on as well without us, my heart sickens -within me. Tell men and women that they are the highest race of beasts, -and what motives have they for being generous and doing noble deeds? -Take away the good Jesus, take away the great high heaven with its -sunshine, crush down a low roof over our earth, and you crush out life's -grandeur. Tell men that every human spirit has in it something -mysterious, that death means something awful, that their souls are born -for eternity; then life becomes great and solemn, and the great thought -arises that we are born to be the sons of God. - -And now the last thing in Joseph's life. I think that when he died all -men and women in Egypt were talking about him, and I am pretty sure they -talked about him as much in a mistaken fashion and with as many blunders -as people will talk about you and me when we die. There is no man that -ever lived yet that was known to the world; God only knows what we are; -so when we die they are bound to speak of us better or worse than we -deserve, for they will not know you nor me as we are known to God, as we -have lived, and what has been our purpose in life, how earnestly we have -striven for it; these are known to God, and to Him only. Thank God, -there are more merciful judgments up there in heaven about us than the -kindest on earth will deliver. I am pretty sure that the Egyptians all -said that Joseph would be proud to be buried in Egypt. He had lived very -nearly all his life there. Had he not brought his relatives there? Was -he not engrossed, heart and soul, in Egypt, with not a particle of -interest left for the old land, the old home, and the old life? We may -imagine what would have been the exclamations of astonishment if the -Egyptians could have listened at the dying bed of the prince and -statesman, and have heard that while all the time he had been a loyal -servant to his royal master, his heart was nevertheless away in the land -of his boyhood, and that the future he was looking for was not a future -of immortality among the Egyptian dead. "Promise me this one thing," he -says, "that when God takes you back to the sweet dear land, back to make -God's kingdom there, you will take all that is left of me, that you will -take my bones out of this Egypt, where I have been in body, but never in -spirit." Oh, the grandeur of such an utterance! All the Egyptian -greatness, power in one of the mightiest empires the world has ever -seen, is as nothing to him compared with the power that his dreams of -sweetness, and goodness, and the service of God had over him. That is a -life that is not broken in two when death comes. - -Men and women here, who have said your prayers when you were young, and -have stopped praying now; who have gone into society and given -yourselves up to the world, stop and look at your poor broken life, and -before it is too late come back to where in your childhood you knelt at -God's throne. - -Oh, young men and women that have dreamed Joseph's dreams, pray to God -that you may dream the dreams of your childhood once more, if you have -let the lust and greed of the world into your heart! Old men and women, -for whom this world is not long, go back to your childhood, and end your -life as you began it. - -This is the supreme thought (and I like to end with it, for it is a -comforting thought too) in the story of Joseph's life; because I know -that there are so many lives crippled and broken through their own -fault, as well as through the wrongs and injuries of others; lives dark, -and poor, and disappointing; lives that have no triumph in this world, -and find it very hard to keep up heart, to keep true to hope, and faith, -and God. Listen to the lesson of Joseph's life. No true life of goodness -to man and God can ever be a failure. In a pit, in a dungeon in far-off -Egypt, you may seem to be shut out of all splendid achievements; wronged -and smitten by the storms of life, it may seem as if God had left you; -but if you can only keep your heart sweet, and good, and pure; if you -can but keep yourself honourable, and generous, and loving, then, though -God may give you no ties of home life, and all may appear dark and -cheerless; if you can only keep yourself a good, sweet, loving woman, a -brave, true, honourable man, if you can but hold fast to your faith, -there is a great God over you, there is a Christ who came to die to save -you, there is a holiness which God will give you. If you will but hold -fast to the end—to _His_ end,—then your life cannot be a failure; its -roots are in God, and its end shall be with God; from heaven you came, -and to God you shall return. - -[Footnote 1: Preached on Sunday evening, October 20th, 1889, in St. -John's Wood Presbyterian Church.] - - - - -VII. - -_THE BRAZEN SERPENT._ - -"He [Hezekiah] removed the high places, and brake the images, -and cut down the groves, and brake in pieces the brasen serpent -that Moses had made: for unto those days the children of Israel did -burn incense to it: and he called it Nehushtan."—2 KINGS xviii. 4. - - -In that verse we hear the last of the brazen serpent; this morning I am -going to put before you some practical thoughts that spring from the -whole story. What has the brazen serpent got to do with our modern life? -The children of Israel, with their cattle and sheep, wandering about the -wilderness, get sick of it, complain against God and against Moses, and -are ready to break into active rebellion. They are punished by a sudden -attack of venomous serpents that sting them, and they, in dread of -death, lose that sham courage of theirs and independence, and they -appeal to God to save them. He bids Moses manufacture a mysterious -brazen serpent, put it upon a pole, and then, if any dying Israelite -looks at that serpent it heals him. The brazen image is regarded ever -after as clothed with great sanctity. It was once the supernatural -channel of life direct from God to dying men, and so, in course of time, -men came to it, and in its vicinity offered up their prayers, and -finally burned incense to it, and surrounded it with a false worship. -Then comes a reforming king, who regards that symbol of wonderful old -power Divine and goodness, that has been turned into an idolatrous and -superstitious instrument of human degradation; and, divided between his -respect for it and his consciousness of the mischief it is doing, he -finally decides to break it into pieces, scatters it into the dust, and -there is an end of it. Now, what has all that got to do with your life -and mine? The Hebrew history does not have its meaning lying just on the -face of it. If you take the bare letter you will not get much out of it; -if you stick to the bare letter you will find yourself landed in a great -many difficulties that are puzzling good people and bad people at the -present day, and all the time, whether you attack those difficulties -with a profound faith or with a doubting, critical, sceptical spirit, -you may be missing the very heart of the story. Because Hebrew history -is manifestly history written with a purpose. It was never intended that -it should be taken as an exact reporter's chronicle of external things -that happen. The real interest of the writers is something different; it -is to get down below the surface, in behind the scenes, to come upon the -great hands of God fashioning this world's story. They felt that beneath -all the events, common and secular, that befell them, the battles they -had to fight, the journeys they had to make, the famines that destroyed -their crops, the outbursts of prosperity, the victories that were won by -them, the lives they lived in homes like ours—behind and beneath all -that they felt that God held the reins in His hand, that He Himself was -thinking of them, had designs in them, was shaping and fashioning their -fortunes, controlling all that befell them, and they comprehended that -the greatest thing in this world is to get to know God. - -The people at this point in their story had been wandering about in the -wilderness for nearly forty years; at last they had been led by Moses to -the very edge of the territory of Edom. Nothing lay between them and the -land God had promised them except the country belonging to their -kinsmen, the Edomites. You can understand how the hearts and faces of -the people were flushed with eager expectation. Oh! they were so sick of -that restless, weary life in the barren desert, and the pictures were -called up before their eyes in their dreams at night, and in their day -visions through the bright sunny hours, of those smiling vineyards, -those oliveyards, and those waving cornfields in that land flowing with -milk and honey, existing somewhat in fact, but very much in the -imagination of those who were to be its possessors. Nothing lay between -them and the actual possession and enjoyment but the country of Edom, so -they sent an eager message to the king, their kinsman, asking leave to -pass through the territory so that they might get at their enemies and -his. The king of Edom doubted them, or he was churlish, and refused to -give them passage. No doubt every brave young Hebrew warrior went to -Moses at once and said, "Let us force our way through; if they will not -yield us passage we shall make it for ourselves—we are able, we have the -weapons, we have the spirit; let us get at the homes that are waiting -for us." But then that would have been to enter into the land of promise -with a bloodstain on their conscience, with a bitter, bad memory, -spoiling all the joy of it; for those Edomites were their blood -relations, and blood meant a vast deal in those old days—even if your -brother treated you ill you must not stain your hands with his blood. To -have your very living and money-making all corroded with that colour of -blood of a near kinsman shed, was to get what your heart longed for, but -to get it spoiled. So Moses, under Divine guidance, told them, "We must -go back into the wilderness, we must make a big, roundabout march, and -reach the land at some other point." Unwillingly the people agreed; they -packed up all their baggage once again, put their weapons into their -sheaths, turned their backs on the smiling land of Canaan, and their -faces to the arid stretch of the sandy, scorched wilderness, and set -out. But before they had gone very far their spirit ran short—that is -what the old Hebraist says literally—their spirit ran down, they could -not stand it. Man turned to man, and said, "This is too hard; more than -man can endure; the thing is intolerable; Moses is blundering; let us -depose our leader and choose generals of our own, and force our way -across Edom into the Promised Land. What is the use of this God—this -Moses who brought us out of Egypt and kept us in the wilderness all -these weary years—at every new camp leaving a graveyard behind us, dying -man after man, with no prospect before, no progress made, no goal -reached, no land of rest attained?" - -Now I wonder how many of my hearers to-day are wandering in the desert -just like these Hebrews, and have been wandering in a wilderness for -years and years. I am pretty sure that that is so with some of you old -folks with white hair on your heads. Ah! it is so very far away in the -Eastern world and in Old Testament times, this story of these wanderers, -never living in a comfortable house, never owning any land, packing up, -and on again, wondering where they are going to die, with nothing much -to look forward to. Yes, but here in London, living in your own house, -in your own workshop, there are men and women wandering in the -wilderness. Ah! what a deal of weary waiting there is for young men and -maidens, in this artificially bad society of ours at the present -day—which has been made by selfishness much more than by the love of God -and the love of man—waiting with divine instincts that God has put into -their hearts; dreaming of a land of promise, a land of rest, a land -flowing with milk and honey. - -Ay, it is wandering in a wilderness. Our hearts were not made to live in -a wilderness; our hearts were made to live in homes; we were all meant -to be in a promised land. There is no need to ask who is to blame. There -the wildernesses are, and they have to be got through. It is not easy. -Many a time the bravest heart breaks down. The last straw breaks the -camel's back. Some little extra worry or care adds itself on, and then -the gentle woman or the courageous, uncomplaining man is broken in heart -and spirit—oh! so weary—ay, and if they have a tender conscience, -upbraiding themselves, counting it sin to feel so tired. Why have they -not been doing good? Have they not been following the steps of Jesus? -And there they are worn out in being good as He was. Do you remember how -sometimes He sighed a great sigh? how sometimes He was so sick of men -and their waywardness and selfishness and wilfulness, that for His -soul's sake He fled from them and hurried off to the mountain-top to get -away above the world, up beneath the blue sky into the purer air, up -where God was direct above Him, and He all alone; then came back next -morning all the braver and able to bear the battle once again? No, do -not blame yourself if you are often very weary. Do not try to pretend -that you like your wilderness, that you do not wish anything different. -You may have got so used to your wilderness as to be like those people -in the old Bastille. Some of the prisoners, we are told, were not -willing to go into the world again; they did not know it. So there are -hearts that get so wedded to sorrow that they are almost afraid to have -done with it. Still, as a general rule, hearts do long for joy, for -sunlight, for success. It is human nature, and there is no harm in being -weary when the clouds are always over the heavens. Christ was weary, and -He understands you and your heart. - -Now, I have willingly allowed myself to run the risk even of -exaggeration in sympathising with the men and women whose lives are a -wilderness, and who are exposed to these dangers in their weariness, in -the hardness of their battle. But now, precisely because of that danger, -to steel your heart against its temptations, I am bound to speak about -the other side; I am bound to ask you men and women, whose lives are not -so good and rich as they ought to be, "Is not the blame, at least -somewhat, your own?" - -Why had these Israelites been wandering forty years in the wilderness? -God had led them to the edge of the Promised Land, and bidden them go in -and take it, and they had not the manhood to do it, they were such -cowards that they trembled, they were craven-hearted; and so they could -not enter because of their unbelief. Ah! it was no good to turn round on -God and blame Him; it was no good to attack the brave-hearted Moses; it -was their own fault that their life was spent in the wilderness. But, -more than that, we must not make too much of the hardship, and the pain, -and the weariness of wilderness wandering. It is human nature to want -always sunshine and to hate storms; to love hours of play and shirk -hours of toil; but, after all, does not the rain do as much for the corn -as the sunshine? Does not darkness do as much on earth as light? Do we -not need hardness as well as lightness in our inner lives if we are to -make ourselves men and women? It was years of wandering in the -wilderness that turned those Egyptian slaves into the dauntless warriors -that carried Canaan by storm. Ah! men and women sitting in the church -to-day with your children round you, do not spoil their lives, but lead -them to live nobly. Was it not when you were kept to your tasks and -toil, when you got your share of the world's burdens and the world's -pain—was it not in the things least agreeable to you that there were -formed within you elements of character that are doing most to make your -joy to-day? Oh, do not grudge them to your children, do not grudge them -to yourself! God gives them. Surely it is supreme wisdom to take our -life in its entirety from God, to sing through the whole gamut of life, -the low wailing note of sorrow as well as the bright, dancing, radiant -notes of joy, rejoicing in God so that the music of our life when it is -done shall be filled with the fulness of that great Heart Divine that -planned and fashioned it. - -There was deadly danger in that murmuring of the children of Israel. You -must not imagine that God resented it because of the insult to His -dignity. God is above such a feeling as that, He does not resent the -ignorance, with the mixture of superstition, that goes into the lives, -ay, of good men and women, Protestant or Roman Catholic. He takes men's -hearts and their real life. It was not the insult to Him in their -murmurs that made Him deal with them so strongly. Oh, it was not -sternness at all that dealt with them, it was love unutterable! They -were ready to spoil their lives, to rush away on their own plans to make -their fortunes, and so to bring themselves to ruin. Do you know how God -checked them? They were complaining of the food that they had, and of -their long weary marches, and the heartlessness of their toil in the -wilderness, instead of having comfortable homes and rich farms, and God -cured them by sending among them fiery serpents that bit them, filled -their veins with venom, agony, and death, and as they lay there writhing -in pain with death looking into their eyes they said, "What fools we -were to repine and complain because of the bread that was tasteless and -the life that was void of interest." That was God's way of curing men -who were about to spoil their lives by discontent. Is it not God's way -still? You men sitting there, do you remember that for years you had -been bad-hearted, bitter, discontented, because your life was not great -or famous, till God sent that deadly illness and you lay in bed like to -die, and then you would have given all you had to get back to that life -that you thought so little of? I have seen the father who made the -foolish mistake of harping too much on the faults and failings of those -who dwelt in his home, not acknowledging the large amount of good and -obedience, but ever making misery and bitterness there, and thinking -himself justified in doing it, accounting himself an unappreciated, -unrewarded man, till a day came when God sent a fiery serpent into his -heart, when the blinds were drawn down in that house, and a life lay -still and silent that had had faults, but had been sweet, and loving, -and lovable. Or, a real disgrace has come to a home, and a child has -done a deed that might break a father's heart. Oh, the misery and the -pity of it, to see that man sitting there all alone with his head bent -and his face buried in his hands, thinking of the years that might have -been bright with joy, and love, and cheer, and that he in his madness -had made bad and bitter! Ay, it was a fiery serpent, but it was -effective. - -Yet God's heart shrinks from those sharp penalties that come to cure us -of our sins. See, what happened the instant those Israelites returned to -Him, ignominiously crying to the very Moses, and the very God, they had -cast off and grumbled at, to come and save them. - -Ay, but God is more eager than they. Make the brazen serpent, lose not a -moment. Set it up on high, and tell them that one look is enough, and -they shall live. That is Godlike; that is how God forgives. Why did God -bid Moses make the brazen serpent and set it up on that pole? God could -have healed these men by telling them to look up even in any way. Why -precisely the brazen serpent should be the instrument of their cure I do -not know; the Bible does not tell me. I can only tell you a thought that -has come to me about it. Perhaps it was for this reason: It would be -surely the thought of every dying Hebrew who looked at that serpent and -felt a new life pulsing through all his veins, and the pain of death -vanishing away, that that serpent came from God, and was a very token -and proof of the warm heart-love of God to him. But it would not be so -easy for the man that had been bitten and lay there dying to think of -that fiery serpent that bit him as a messenger of God's love. He would -be more likely to think that the fiery serpent, that came with death in -his bite, was from the devil. And yet the serpent that bit him to death -came from God, and came from God's love as absolutely as the serpent -that healed. Is not that it? Could they but put two and two together, -would not the thought flash into their heart, "A serpent God gave to -heal; a serpent it was that hurt"? Is it then so, that the serpent that -harmed came from God's love, as much as the serpent that healed? Is not -that just God's way with you? Do not many of you sitting in the church -to-day remember great sorrows or sharp blows of disaster that came into -your life, and at first you writhed against them and were in great pain? -You could not think there was any love of God in them; but they have -lain there and they have made your heart more gentle, they have made -your faith more strong, they have brought God nearer to you, they have -made you kinder in your own home, and you look at them now with the glow -of a goodness that has grown from them, and you say to yourself that not -merely the goodness that has followed since, but the pain that came and -hurt was from God—from God who is love. - -How did the healing come to the dying Hebrew who looked at the brazen -serpent? Not from any efficacy in the serpent, not from any magical -virtue in the look; the new life that came to him came direct from God. -Why, then, did God interpose the looking at the serpent? Why did God -make the cure dependent on a gaze at a serpent erected there by Moses? I -will tell you why. It was not the look; it was the change of heart that -was in the look that God wanted. The real mischief that had to be undone -was not the bodily death of those men; there was a worse evil than that, -there was the loss of faith in God, the fracture of a loving dependence -on God. That is the essence of all sin. Sin is disobedience to God. It -means that you snatch your life out of God's hand, that you will not -live according to God's will, that you make yourself your God; you will -be your own master, you will take your own way—you can do better for -yourself than God. Now, mark, you never would choose that sinful course -as long as you trusted God. Loss of faith, that is sin. It is no good -talking of cures, no good talking of salvation, unless you undo the -mischief done by sin. Loss of faith: that is the beginning, the essence, -the end of sin. Ah! that doctrine of salvation through faith that men -mock at and call a legal sophism, it has got the heart of all truth in -it, only I think we are to blame that we have so much talked of faith as -the means of salvation as if it were some external condition attached by -God to salvation. Faith _is_ salvation; Jesus Christ hangs there on the -cross as Moses lifted up the brazen serpent. The moment a man believes -on Him he is saved from sin. How? Through some magical virtue in the -cross, in the Body hanging there, in the blood poured out, or in the -man's mental act of faith? Never, never. That Christ hanging there is -the living embodiment of faith in God: His life, His death, are the -incarnate declaration that all sin is error, that all sin is an outrage, -that men erred and went wrong when they disobeyed God. He condemns all -sin by His life of holiness, by His death of antagonism against sin, -hanging there on the cross, wrestling with sin, seeking to undo it, -offering to God the world's love and obedience that sinful men have -failed to give to God, dying in their stead, obeying in their stead, -making Himself a perfect sacrifice and substitute for this world of -ours. All that still would not be salvation, is not salvation, to you -until the sight of it turns you, regenerates you, makes you see that all -your sin was madness, folly; fills you with hatred of it. When once the -love of God binds you over to follow that Christ in obedience to God, in -trust to God, in love of God, that is faith in Christ, that is salvation. - -That serpent became an object of idolatrous and superstitious worship. -It was very natural, and it is very evil. Hezekiah with his reforming -zeal took it, and with real reverence, though with seeming external -irreverence, dashed it in pieces. Has not that also a parallel, hundreds -of parallels in Church history? Hezekiah rightly interpreted the heart -of God; he believed that the great heart of God up there in heaven was -pained every time that a poor ignorant Israelite, man or woman, poured -out on that brazen image the gratitude that should have gone direct to -Him. And so it is that in the Church's story you find that whenever -priests have set up any channel or means of actual grace divine, grace -supernatural, and have attached to it undue reverence, and made it bulk -too largely in the eyes and worship of common men and women, so as to -come between them and God, then God has raised up infidels and -unbelievers to break it and dash it to pieces. Was not that what was -done by the Reformers? At the Reformation, when the Mass had been set -between eager longing hearts of men and women seeking forgiveness and -the great loving heart of God that gives it, it was taken and shattered. -Ay, and when this Bible of ours—this Protestant Bible of ours, or our -great evangelical doctrines, are taken and have given to them a place of -importance in our salvation and in our belief that they ought not to -have, once again be sure of it God will create a true, lawful, and -blessed recoil, and you will have these sacred things even dashed down -to a position of undue depreciation. It is God's ways of leading us to -Himself. Ah! there is a grand thought in that—the unutterable glory -about our God that shines for me through all the tale of that great -battle about belief, and doctrines, and Church institutions that makes -up the Church's story—through it all what I see is the heart of God our -Father longing for the touch of our hands in His hands, the gaze of our -eyes into His, giving us things that shall help us to Him, lesson books -to teach us about Him, steps that shall lead us to His feet. But the -moment we make these a barrier that keeps us far from Him, things sacred -and good are dashed away. What does that mean? It means to you and me -the revelation in all wonder, awe, and comfort of how tender, near, and -true and clinging is the love of God's heart to you and me—of that God -whom we sometimes think so awful and so terrible, but who in His inmost -being through and through is love, wholly, absolutely love. - - - - -VIII. - -_THE GRADATIONS OF DOUBT._ - -PSALM lxxiii. - - -I am going to ask you to study with me this morning the 73rd Psalm. -Before I read the Psalm I had better tell you what it is about; then you -will follow the line of thought in it with greater ease. The central -faith of the Hebrew religion was that God governs this world according -to the principles of morality, that He is on the side of goodness, and -against wickedness. The facts of life clashed with that dogma of Hebrew -faith. Good men in those old times found it as hard to believe in God -and goodness as we do, and they got just as little, or just as much, -supernatural help as we do. Therefore they could nowhere find an -absolute certainty; they nowhere received from heaven a supernatural and -complete explanation of the enigmas of life. God, because He loved them, -deliberately left them to fight their battle for faith with the actual -facts and the actual difficulties. He left them constantly trying to -find a complete intellectual solution of the problem, and failing to do -that, just as we fail; and so He shut them up to discovering a -resting-place for faith in the heart when they could not get it in the -head. A great many psalms have welled out of men's hearts, just like -fountains away among the hills, and valleys, and slopes. This 73rd Psalm -is brimful of human thoughts, and duties, and longings, pains, and -battles, and victories, just like bits of your life when you were all -alive to the real grandeur of your human existence, when your heart -longed to think loftily of life, and to hold fast to God, and precisely -because your heart was all alive you found it was not easy. I am going -to ask you to follow this man's struggle against doubt, to watch the -steps by which he descended into the valley of real questioning of God's -goodness and of God's government of the world, and then to trace the -steps by which he climbed back again to a hill-top of serene and -tranquil certainty. - -I have already indicated to you that I do not think that anywhere in the -Old Testament, or in the New Testament, or in all Christian theology or -philosophy, does there exist a complete demonstration of the fact that -God is good, and that He is on the side of goodness. Whether that is -true or not every intelligent believer will admit that this 73rd Psalm -is no complete theodicy. It will not hold its own as a logical -demonstration that the government of this world is moral or just. The -man's certainty that there is a good God, and that God takes sides with -good men, rests not upon sight, but upon faith; it is a solution of the -heart, not of the head. Thank God! that is the universal law of -religious experience. One thing I want to point out to you at the -beginning, especially to those of you who are thinkers, and who study -the various religions of the world. There is a very simple -characteristic about the fashion in which the problem of life is dealt -with in those Psalms, when we compare them, say, with the very finest of -Greek devotion and Greek religion. In all Greek philosophy there is only -one fixed quantity—that is, the world. The problem of Greek thought is -this: Given the world, the clear, solid, certain fact, to find the God -that made it. They took life as it stood, and from its elements and -components they tried to determine what kind of a Maker this world has -had. Now, at the very outset, all through Hebrew religious thought and -philosophy, you find two fixed quantities. There is the world, but over -against it there is God—God, holy, just, righteous; and therefore, while -the Greek problem was always, Given the world, to construct God, the -Hebrew problem is, Given the world as it exists, and given God as He -exists, can those be reconciled? It is a very simple and striking -contrast. I will tell you the picturesque aspect that it gives to the -two literatures. Greek thought is all philosophical, speculative—great -minds rising back to the First Cause, from this actual world; and this -world being what it is, no wonder that at one time they reached iron -Fate, at another time Materialism, at another time Pantheism, at another -time Manichæism. Hebrew thought does not sway about in that fashion; it -is simply concerned with this—the vindication of God's character; and -there is the striking contrast. In Greek poetry, in all Pagan poetry, -you will find warm-hearted, large-minded men contemplating life, with -all its great wrongs, injustices, pains, sorrows, disappointments, and -then breaking into pity and compassion for men. In Hebrew poetry, in -Hebrew religion, you will everywhere find the same dark aspects of life -fearlessly held up, acknowledged, and confronted; but what do you think -is the supreme pain that breaks in upon the hearts of the Hebrew sages -and seers as they contemplate the world's enigmas? It is anxiety for the -character of God. It is not pity for poor men and women, ground under -the wheels of this earth, but a terribly agonising question, "How can we -defend God and God's goodness when the world is so evil and so dark?" -Ah, you want to prove what the Bible is by its own light, to show that -it has a right to be spoken of as a revelation and as inspired! Do not -go to all the trivial Mediæval theories and doctrines about it; go to -the book itself, and go to the world. It can hold its own, without -claiming anything outside to buttress it up. Set the heart-life in it -against the heart-life of any other religion, and you will see that it -has the blue of God's heaven in it—unsullied, splendid, perfect. Now, I -am going to take this one Psalm—to take one glimpse into that long, -painful chemistry of revelation, as God came into human hearts with pain -and perplexity, with struggle, with triumph, with glory, and made those -hearts know Him, not through explanations, but by His indwelling in -them, His life, His love, His holiness, echoing and throbbing into their -heart life. - -I am now tempted to break off here for a moment, and say to you what -always strikes me when I look at that aspect of this revealed, inspired -Bible—that it does seem just possible that the good Christian Church we -belong to in our time is not in quite the right way of thinking about -religious doubt. I am not talking about doubt of the head, the -intellect, and the schools—intellectual fence, that sort of triviality; -let it alone, it is not worth taking notice of. But the real doubt of -any age, the doubt of any man's heart and head—what are we to think of -that? Are we to stamp it as devilish? Are we to denounce it, and -excommunicate it? Why, we might be fighting against God. If I read my -Bible aright, real, genuine, patient struggle for faith means just the -birth-throes of God's revelation of Himself in men's hearts. Now come to -this point, and see what it reveals to you that is sacred, pathetic, -instructive in the heart of a man dead hundreds of years ago. Look into -his heart, and you may learn a great deal about your own heart. The -problem that confronts him is the fact that has always been very evident -in every age, that honesty is not by any means always the best policy, -if by that you mean that it pays you best. I am putting it in homely -language. It is a big question. Do the world's good things go -predominantly to the good men? or do they go to the clever and -unscrupulous men? In the professions is it your honest, truthful man, of -modest merit, that succeeds best, or your humbug, impostor, flatterer, -self-advertiser? In the State, in politics, is it your honest man, that -speaks truths to the people, that is lauded and flattered? or is it your -skilful adventurer? In the City does strict honour make a man's fortune? -or are profits bigger in proportion as a man can wink at things? -Anywhere on the large scale are the virtuous classes the most -prosperous? Are the powers of this world raised up to their lofty -elevation by goodness, or rather in spite of badness? Is God on the side -of goodness? or does He not care? or is He rather on the side of -violence, and wrong, and wickedness? Now, this point is the real -struggle in the poet's heart, to solve that difficulty of life. I am -going to read it to you, giving you the headings of the various parts of -it, the steps of emotion and of thought through which his heart has -passed. - -He begins, first of all, with the point at which he ends. This is the -right result of that struggle of doubt and faith within him; he believes -that God is on the side of goodness. But there is a curious little word, -very difficult to reproduce in English, that expresses how the firm -conviction that he has of goodness having God backing it was reached -through painful conflict. "Surely"—yes, after all—"God is good to His -people, good to such as are pure in heart." Then we come to the history -of doubt, the progress of doubt, in the man's soul. That you have in the -first fourteen verses. The first step of it was his recognition of the -fact of prosperous wickedness. It is a little difficult to divide the -Psalm exactly, and I do not give you the divisions that I am choosing as -certainly the precise, original structure of the poem, but roughly they -bring out the outstanding thoughts. The first division would be verses 2 -to 5—the fact of prosperous wickedness: "But as for me, my feet were -almost gone; my steps had well-nigh slipped. For I was envious at bad -men—at successful bad men—when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For -they have no barriers, no entanglements; they are never tripped up on to -the time of their death"—that, I think, is the real translation—"but -their success remains firm. They are not in trouble like other men; -neither are they plagued like other men." - -That is the first step of doubt. Then comes the second, the effect upon -themselves: "Therefore pride is like a golden chain round their neck; -violence covers them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with fatness; -they have more than heart could wish. They scoff, and in wickedness -utter oppression, pour forth oppressive taunt; they speak loftily. They -have set their mouth in the heaven, and their tongue stalketh through -the earth." - -Then there is a third step of doubt, the effect upon good men: -"Therefore God's people are prevented that way, and the waters of a full -cup are drained by them. They say, How can God know? and is there -knowledge in the Most High? Behold, these are the wicked; and being -always secure, they heap up wealth." - -Then there is the effect on the poet himself: "Surely in vain have I -cleansed my heart, and washed my hands in innocency. For all the day -long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning." You see here the -doubt reaching its last full result. - -Then we come to the recoil, the restoration of faith. That also is set -in three steps. The first is the perception of the fact of retribution. -Verse 15: "Had I made up my mind, I will speak thus; behold, I should -have dealt treacherously with the generation of Thy children. When I -thought how I might know this—how to read this riddle—it was too hard -for me, until I went into the sanctuary of God, and considered the last -end of them. Surely Thou didst set them in slippery places; Thou hast -hurled them down to destruction. How are they become a desolation in a -moment! They are utterly consumed with terrors. As a nightmare when one -awaketh, so, O Lord, when Thou awakest Thou dost despise [flout] the -presentment of them." - -Then there is the next step, the perception of his own stupidity: "My -mind was in a ferment, and I was pricked in my heart. How brutish I was, -and how ignorant! I was no better than a proud beast before Thee; and I -am continually with Thee, held by Thy right hand." - -Then there is the last step, the perception of the immeasurable joy, the -intrinsic superiority, of goodness. "Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and -there is none upon earth that I desire beside Thee. My flesh and my -heart faileth; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for -ever. For, lo, they that are far from Thee shall perish; thou hast -destroyed all them that go straying away from Thee. But it is good for -me to draw near to God: I have made the Lord my refuge, that I may tell -all Thy works." - -Now, for our own help and instruction, let us follow, step by step, the -struggle of that good man's heart. Is it evident on the face of things -that goodness has the best of it in this world? Now, I am going to say -to you a thing that perhaps many of you will think little of me for -saying, but I cannot help thinking that the poet exaggerated the actual -facts; and I am quite persuaded that a great many people who think -themselves very wise, and are very wise, at the present day, make far -too much of the external material advantage gained by dishonesty. I am -quite prepared to admit that goodness often keeps a man back from -earthly joy. I am quite prepared to admit that the prizes of this world -go far too much to men that possess no real right to them. There are -endless social wrongs and individual wrongs. Things are not rightly -adjusted, either in the Church or in the world, in professions or in -business. All that is true. Nevertheless, I rather think that the amount -of it is exaggerated. I do not think that is the predominant aspect of -life. It is only when a man is morbid, when existence is pressing too -hard on himself, when he is sharply injured and wronged, that he would -take upon him to say that evil out and out, clearly and without -question, has the best of it. I am talking, of course, of our society -nowadays; but I rather think that in all states of society it could -never have been the case that wickedness absolutely had the best of it. -I will tell you why: Because this world cannot stand without a good deal -of love and a good deal of faith, a good deal of honesty, a good deal of -mutual trust. Why, if business were the utter mass of cheating and -unscrupulosity that some men would have us believe, you would have an -end of all credit, of all business. There must be some brotherliness; -there must be a certain trustworthiness; there must be a considerable -amount of honesty. It is the very salt of the world; it maintains it; -the world would come to an end without it. But all the same, I am -willing to admit that that is the superficial aspect of existence, and -that it is a very staggering blow to men's faith, especially faith that -is inherited from one's father, that is not a man's own; it is a thing -to make a young man's heart bitter; it is a thing to make him hesitate -and doubt whether he ought to hold to the pathway of honour. It is not, -I think, the paramount, the predominant aspect of life, looked at calmly -and dispassionately, quite apart from religious faith, but certainly it -is a very prominent aspect—prominent because it is superficial. Well, -then, that fact of successful wrong-doing is the cause of religious -doubt, but not by any means a very dangerous cause. - -We come to the second source of doubt and questioning—an infinitely more -subtle and hazardous one. It is the perception that successful ill-doers -do not seem to be miserable. You know how we are all taught that bad men -have such terribly evil consciences, that harpies are always behind -them, that their hearts are gnawed with dread and anxiety, that they -cannot sleep at night, that remorse haunts them. Not a bit of it. You go -into the world and pick out men who have gained their wealth, who have -wrung it out of the heart's blood of their fellow-men—got it by -downright dishonesty; their eyes stand out with fatness, they roll about -in their carriages, they have splendid houses, and everybody bows down -to them and makes much of them; their faces are wreathed with smiles of -self-satisfaction; you sit at their tables, and they tell you how -successful they have been; they expect you to envy them; they are not -humble and miserable. Then the deadly question comes to you, Where, -then, is God? Ah, one can quite understand God letting the external -world run its own course! One might explain in some way that God allows, -to try men, the prizes of wealth and the joys of life to go to men that -do not deserve them. As a good man once said to me, "It is plain that -God does not think much of money—why, look at the kind of people he -gives it to!" That is so; but the one thing you would believe is this, -that in that strange inner world of the human heart, the mind, the -conscience God could not keep still. If He gives them the external gift, -if He sends them the desire of their flesh, He will send leanness into -their soul. Why do you not see their faces haggard? Why can you not -trace the lines of care? Why does not shame and degradation sit upon the -wealthy man's face who gained his wealth by cheating and lying, by -dishonour and meanness? Oh, they seem so happy, so contented, so -pleased, so proud, so arrogant! Why does their tongue reach up to -heaven, in its pride, and haughtiness, and complacency? Well, you would -think that that is a deadly enough doubt to be gnawing at a good lad's -heart; but there is a still deadlier one. Here you have the deadliest -cause of doubt, when a man, pressed hard by the great fact of prosperous -ill-doing, staggered by that blow, does not see the inner, ethical, -moral vengeance of God stamped on it. He looks round for confirmation to -the good men in the Church; he looks at religious Christian society, he -falls back on it, to let it support him, to let it help him; and what -does he discover when his eyes pierce through and penetrate? In the -heart within him he begins to recognise the hearts of others. Everywhere -the Church is secretly doubting too; good men are longing for a share in -the ill-gotten gain—ay, tampering with their consciences, themselves -turning into the same direction, drinking of the waters of the same cup, -and then some of them, more reckless or more honest, speaking straight -out: "Yes, I was brought up, like you, to believe in virtue, in honesty, -in God, and in goodness; but I have seen throughout that this world is -not governed by a good God. If there is a good God, He does not know or -does not care; He does not step in; it is the wicked that have the best -of it in this world; I am going to take that course." Ah, the moral -perversion, the tainted breath of the base, selfish, greedy, -unscrupulous world! that detected in the heart of his own father, the -good elder, the church member; that detected in his own mother, not -valuing or choosing for the society of her home the honourable, the -pure, the good, the true, but the people with money, and tainted -reputations, and all the rest of it; that is the deadliest thing; that -makes the real doubt, the real unbelief; that carries a lad, not to -books of philosophy—he will never take much harm from them, even if he -has head enough to understand them—but carries him clean away from -religion, into shady company too, and takes the virtue and morality out -of him, making him sell himself for money in life's sacredest -relationships: it is that—the perversion of good. Oh, how much we -Christian men and women have to answer for when we denounce sceptics and -worldlings, the ungodly young men who stop going to church, and all -that! Ay, poor souls, they will have to answer for it! but how much -shall we have to answer for it too? The Church, is it not tainted by -worldliness? Do we go and take the bravest, the most patient, the most -loyal, the most prayerful, the most devout Sunday-school teacher, a -working man, and put him in the chair of our Sunday-school assemblies in -Exeter Hall? No, no; it is not pure goodness. I do not know that we can -help it, but it would be worth while trying that system, instead of the -Church, for want of faith, making so very much of the world, of social -position, and of purse power. - -But I have rather wandered from my point. Doubt has now run its course, -completed its curriculum. The question is often raised, Does it matter -what a man believes? No, not what he believes about the abstract -theories or explanations either of philosophy or theology—it will not -matter much what he thinks about these abstruse questions; but it -matters infinitely and eternally what he thinks about God, and goodness, -and life. Ah, there a man's heart-faiths make his life-conduct! It was -so with the poet here, when those dark, demon doubts had filled his -soul, when his mind was in a ferment, when his heart was pricked and -bitter within him, when he heard good men—men that were good once—round -him saying, "Does God know?" and when he felt himself in a God-forsaken -world, where there was nothing but each man snatching the best he could -get, where everything was given over to wickedness and evil. Ah, then, -such a man does not stop at theoretical atheism and scepticism! he goes -farther. "Surely in vain have I kept my hands clean; I have been a fool -to deny myself forbidden joys and pleasures; I have been punished, I -have been injured; those that were unscrupulous, and impure, and -dishonest have had the best of it; I have done with being a fool; I am -going to have my share too." Now doubt has reached its most dangerous -point; it is going to hurry into forbidden action. - -It was at this moment that the recoil came. I will tell you how. If a -man has got any heart at all, he can go any length in his own head with -his doubts and questions about whether there is a God or a heaven, or -whether it is worth while trying to be holy, and pure, and honest; but -if he has any heart at all, the moment that he says, "I am going to be -pure no longer, but I am going to be foul," then there is something in -him that draws him back. He sees himself, or rather he feels, that he is -not doing harm to any one with those doubts that are in his own -intellect, but the moment he says, "I am going out into the world, in -the train, in the town, in the warehouse, and I am going to tell it, -right and left, that I count it an old wife's fable that there is a God -and heaven, that I count the man an idiot who denies himself any fleshly -joy that he can get without coming within the grasp of the law"—I say, -if he has any heart at all, he suddenly thinks to himself, "If I say -that to my younger brother, if I say that to that innocent maiden, I -shall be doing a cruel wrong to the generation of God's people." Oh, -there is an eternal, immovable fact! Doubt may have all logic on its -side, but doubt and the denial of God and of virtue are the world's -damnation. It may be an advantage to a man to cheat and steal, but it -cannot be an advantage to his neighbours. Take the worst man in the -City, and ask him if he would wish that all goodness, all virtue, all -religion should be so crushed out that every man should become a thief, -a robber, a burglar. No; he does not want that. Even in the case of an -infidel, if he be a man of fine conscience and fine heart—I have known -such—not for his life would he tell his doubts to a child, not for his -life would he say a word to stop that mother teaching her boy to pray. I -have known such men who told me that they were thankful that the mother -of their children kept on doing it. Yes, that Psalm is far away from our -theoretical theologies or intellectual apologies and the rest of it. See -how intensely human it is—that recognition that doubt held within the -intellect is not very harmful, but let it go out into the world, and it -will do unspeakable mischief; it is that that gives the doubter check. -Ay, and there is reason in it, rationality. When a man recognises that -fact he has got to go farther. If doubt manifestly would harm the world, -if the denial of God, and goodness, and the earth's moral government -would damage human society, then there must be something wrong in the -reasoning that leads up to that denial. The facts cannot be as I have -fancied, or else my inferences are wrong; for never, never can it be -evil to know the truth. Therefore that denial of mine that there is a -good God, or that if there be a God He governs this world by goodness, -must be false. Now all things appear to the man in a new light. Why? -Because he has got up to a great elevation. Suddenly it darts upon him, -"Before, I was looking at this world out of my little self; I judged -everything by its effect upon my own personality, my own life. I was -suffering, and therefore all things must be wrong." What a poor little -aspect that is! Now he has risen up to a point where he stands as God -stands; he looks at the big world out of himself, and he sees that the -doubt, the denial, would destroy all that is best in the world. And he -looks farther; he has reached to God's sanctuary. Now his eyes travel -over wider reaches of human story. Before he was like a man down in a -valley where there is a winding river, and just where he stood the river -seemed to flow in one direction, and he went away and proclaimed to men -that the river ran north. Now he has travelled away up the mountain, and -he is able to look over the whole extent, and he sees that there was a -winding and twisting in the stream, but observes that its great ultimate -course is to the southern seas. The man stands up above this world of -ours, he looks over the great spread of its course and history, and what -is the absolute conclusion? That everywhere in the end immorality has -death in it; that violence, wickedness, selfishness ruin themselves; -that oppressive dynasties have fallen, and corrupt peoples have been -struck down; that sin everywhere has God's vengeance set in it, and ends -in death. Everywhere in the end virtue does triumph and survive, -goodness proves superior. That is a fact which the evolutionist tells -us. This world seeks and reaches the moral, the good, the true, the -noble in intellect, heart, and soul. It was made, the religious man -says, by a good God, and it is making for goodness. Yes; but there comes -another revelation. For the good man says to himself, "Now, how came it -that I could not see that before?" and suddenly an overwhelming shame -falls upon him. "How could I not see that before? Oh, because I was such -a little soul, because I lived in such a despicable, little world! I -failed to see the truth because I was as base as those bad men. What -makes them forsake God and goodness? Because they count earthly gain the -supreme thing. Why was I so bitter against their getting the earthly -gain? Because I counted it the supreme thing. I, a man made in God's -image, a man held by God's hand, a man whose will was being -overshadowed, and led, and guided by God's Spirit, through all was so -ignorant and so brutish that I thought God's best gift that He had to -give to His children was money, or fleshly pleasure, or earthly -adulation. I was no better than a brute beast. To the brute beast God -can give nothing more than meat, and drink, and fleshly sensual delight; -but that a man held in God's hand, loved by God, should have great joy -about these things! Ah, my doubt grew not out of the world's enigmas -alone! it grew out of my own low morals." Now he stands in a new -position. He sees as God sees, and he says to himself, "Ah, let this -world grow as ill as it may; even if it were the case that money, power, -social ambition, earthly rewards did go predominantly to wickedness, -what then? Here am I, a man loving honour, truth, justice, mercy, -purity, God; shall I hesitate for one moment if I must lose all the -world? Can I hesitate for one moment? No; goodness alone, with no -earthly reward, is heaven, and far more precious than all worldly gain." -Why? Because goodness has in it the very breath of God, the throb of His -Spirit, the echo of His heart. The good man has God in him, loving him, -continually with him, he continually with God; and this world lies -beneath him, and death beneath his feet. Ah, the best this world can -give trembles before death and the grave, and breaks and is gone! but in -goodness the human heart clasps God, and doubt is at an end. - -Oh, how much our world to-day wants that supreme daring faith in -goodness just for itself, and that close fellowship with God, that -defies all questionings, all doubts, that would stand if all the -evidences about our Gospels and Epistles were swept away, still sure -that God is up there, that God loves men, and that God draws them to -Himself to make them holy, as their Father in heaven is holy! - - - - -IX. - -_THE STORY OF QUEEN ESTHER._ - -ESTHER iv. 13-17. - - -The subject to which I invite your attention to-night is the Story of -Queen Esther. The kernel of it has been read to you in the fourth -chapter. I shall read the closing verses, so as to give you the key-note -to the meaning of the narrative. After Esther had refused to go and -plead for the Hebrews with the King of Persia, "Mordecai commanded to -answer Esther, Think not with thyself that thou shalt escape in the -king's house, more than all the Jews. For if thou altogether holdest thy -peace at this time, then shall there enlargement and deliverance arise -to the Jews from another place; but thou and thy father's house shall be -destroyed: and who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such -a time as this? Then Esther bade them return Mordecai this answer, Go, -gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan, and fast ye -for me, and neither eat nor drink three days, night or day: I also and -my maidens will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the king, which -is not according to the law: and if I perish, I perish. So Mordecai went -his way, and did according to all that Esther had commanded him." - -It is a very difficult task to calculate how much religion there is in -the world—true religion, that God accepts. Elijah once tried to -calculate, and concluded there was nobody true to God but himself; blind -to the seven thousand that had not bowed the knee to Baal. It is quite -possible to take superficial, indulgent, optimistic views of the -progress made by mankind, but God knows there are as deadly and wicked -and more blasphemous errors committed by good men, who talk of this -world as if it were given over to the devil to reign and rule in it, as -if things were growing worse and worse, as if the number of men and -women whose hearts are God's were few. I think the blunder comes from -looking for goodness often in the wrong place, from a mistaken idea of -what true religion is. It won't do to reckon up our church members; they -are not all genuine. It won't do to count our acts of worship, our -prayer-meetings, our praises. These are often mere sound, breath, empty -air. If you want to know how much of Christ there is in this world, you -must go outside the churches, into the workshops, into the homes of the -people. Ay, you must go to lands where Christ's name is not often heard, -and you have got to listen with a sympathetic ear, and whenever you hear -the accents of Christ's human voice ringing out in any way of genuine -love and tenderness, whenever you see duty done patiently, and loyally, -and uncomplainingly, whenever you see a heart or a soul follow the -light, however dim and glimmering, understand that there you are -touching Christ, and stand on a bit of the kingdom of heaven. The -eleventh chapter of Hebrews is the golden roll of the Old Testament -heroes, men of God, stamped by God Himself as genuine; and the deeds -recited, too, as having been done by them, that gave them their degree -and title as heroes, and nobles, and princes in heaven's kingdom, are -not the preaching of sermons, or the writing of books of theology, or -the fighting about petty little trivialities of doctrinal explanation, -or the performance of rites and ceremonies and acts of worship, but -brave deeds of battle, noble, dauntless generalship, heroism, and -courage, and self-sacrifice, loyalty to the cause of truth and -righteousness in this world. These are the deeds that were done, -following the guidance of God, under the inspiration of Heaven, and the -men who did them are recited in one long unbroken chain, and linked on -in line direct with Jesus Christ, whose death and redemption are -presented as the crown and consummation of that long series of priests, -and kings, and prophets, and warriors, and heroes, true-hearted men and -women who lived for God and fought for God in the olden time. It is -sometimes said that Christ was not present in the Old Testament times. -True, the human Jesus of Nazareth was not there, but oh, the spirit of -Him was! He was the very heart-beat, and pulse, and inspiration of all -that long, continuous struggle to bring heaven down into earth, for that -is what the Old Testament story presents to us. In every brave deed, in -every true word, in every pure and righteous life, it was not the heart -of man that glowed, but the very spirit of Christ—Christ coming to full -birth and maturity in this world's story. - -Some people are puzzled to discover how the Book of Esther comes to be -in the Old Testament. It is said to be a romance of history. It contains -no religious teaching. The name of God is not once mentioned in it, from -the first verse to the last. How comes it in the Bible? - -Now, it is quite true that there is no direct dogmatic teaching of -religious truth. It is absolutely true that the name of God is not to be -found in its pages. But what of that? what of that, if the book is one -of the most powerful presentations of God's providence working among -men, if the book itself has for its very soul and idea the conception of -God overruling events in a marvellous fashion to preserve His kingdom on -earth? Is the great thing to get the name of God, spelt with its three -letters, or to be shown God? Ah! it is the same kind of blunder that -causes us to make so much of mere forms of words in the Church, instead -of looking to see if the Spirit of God animates the man and woman and -the preacher who inhabit the professed house of God on earth. There may -be no teaching of religion, no prophesying of Jesus, no foreshadowing of -the evangelical truths of redemption in the Book of Esther; but what it -does paint for you is a majestic picture of a human heart struggling -against its own weakness, rising to a grandeur that had in it the glory -of Christ's own self-sacrifice. The name is not there, the phrase is not -there; but the core, and kernel, and heart of Christ's love, and faith, -and redemption of men are pulsing and beating in the book. - -It is a puzzling book. There is a great deal in it that is revolting. -The background on which Esther's deed of heroism was done is ugly and -repulsive. She lived in a social state that was degraded and base, -containing in it customs and habits that almost sicken us who, through -Christ's mercy, have been lifted into comparative purity and sweetness. - -You remember the story. A dissolute Persian monarch, in a drunken -frolic, requires of his queen to do a deed that ran against all that was -womanly within her, and she refused. Mercilessly he deposes her from the -throne, and he sets to to select another queen. The fair maidens of the -land are collected, and in a very disgusting fashion presented to the -tyrant, and from among them he chooses the beautiful young Jewess -Esther, and makes her his queen. One cannot but pity her for having -lived in such a time, for having had to play a part on such a stage of -the world's story. One may even fairly ask the question, if it had not -been nobler if she had not been presented by her guardian in such a -revolting competition? But it is no good for us finding fault with the -actual course of the world's story. If God was not too fine to lead men -in all the bygone days—polygamy and such like practices were tolerated -in the Old Testament time, because of the lowness of men's hearts, as -Christ explains to us—it is a mistake in you and me being too fine to -recognise God where God was numbering Himself among transgressors, that -He might lift mankind to His own level. And then the narrative proceeds; -presents to us a succession of cruel, unscrupulous intrigues, mainly -between Esther's guardian, Mordecai, (a Jew whom one cannot admire and -love, taking the picture of him drawn in this book) and the king's -favourite courtier, Haman. In the course of the rivalry between the two, -the very existence of God's people throughout the Persian empire is -imperilled. Partly through Haman's scheming, but also through dauntless -devotion to what they believed to be the cause of God, and which was the -cause of God, in spite of the earthliness and imperfections attaching to -its soldiers and defenders, partly by evil fixed to them, partly through -nobility and goodness, a drama is presented to us, a struggle of heroism -and bravery, and in the centre of it is that young queen doing a deed -that we cannot but call Christlike. - -Now, I want to say this to you: Men's lights in the world are very -diverse. The possibilities of goodness and attainment for one man are -far greater and far higher than for another. Some of you may be so -entangled with evil customs and habits of commercial or of social life -that you feel your very position there is impossible to make quite -consistent with the full requirements of Jesus Christ. Thus things are. -It is no good blinking them. And what are you to do? To despair, to give -up any attempt to be good, and pure, and noble? Never! never! Look at -all that Old Testament story—men far behind in their notions of common -morality, yet on that low, degraded background discerning always a -higher that may be done, a lower that may be avoided. No matter where -you may stand, no matter how difficult the achievements may be, the one -great question is, not what is the framework, but what is the painting -you put in it. Are you living for self? or are you living for God? -living to your own self-will, or striving to do your duty as far as you -can do it? - -From a very lowly lot Esther rose to be the first lady in the land, and -I suppose all her sister Jewesses envied her, and thought that there was -nothing that was not happy, and prosperous, and pleasant in her -position. Yes, it was a position of great advantage, of great pomp, -flattering to her pride—rich raiment, jewellery, the adulation of -fawning courtiers, the admiration of the great monarch of the mightiest -kingdom in the world, promoted to the throne as queen, wielding power -over the destinies of man. Ah! it was a very enviable, happy lot, and -yet not altogether so very enviable. I will tell you why—a thing that we -apparently forget. When we all of us enter into our estates, when we -come of age, nearly all good fortune in this world is heavily mortgaged. -It is encumbered estates that we come heir to; and without disloyalty, -without being renegades and dishonourable, we cannot cast off these -encumbrances. The present has always got to pay the purchase price to -the past. You must not kick away the ladder by which you rose to -fortune. Ah! and sometimes into the bright sunshiny present the past -comes with a very long bill to pay—comes with a very stern face and a -demanding hand, and bids you, perhaps, risk all that is making your -heart so warm, and so proud, and so gay. - -That was the case with Esther. She was a Jewess. She owed her birth and -her breeding to that despised, exiled people. She had won her proud -position on the emperor's throne through the planning, and toiling, and -sacrifice of her Jewish guardian. And now her people's destiny hangs on -the balance. A deadly conspiracy against them has brought it about that -on a given day, rapidly approaching, there is to be a universal -merciless massacre of these defenceless Jews. And through the mouth of -her old revered guardian the demand comes to her—the one human being -that might have influence with the cruel king to cancel the decree and -save the lives of men, women, and children—at the risk and peril of her -own life in asking it, to go and intercede for them. - -Hard! oh, how hard! Don't you judge harshly the poor queen when she -shrank away from it and could not face the stern summons. Think of it, -the young flesh, the soft heart—a woman's heart—within her, and think of -the cruel death by torture that was wont to be inflicted upon any one -that, unbidden, dared to force his way into the king's presence; coming, -too, in the bright noonday of all her good fortune. It would have been -easier to risk life when she was an unknown Jewish maiden; but oh, in -this good luck, this fortune, this love, this adulation, this -admiration, with her right fair beauty all upon her, to take it all and -go and confront grim death! it seemed too much to ask. And so Esther -began arguing within herself: Was she bound to hazard her life for these -Jews? After all, what had they done for her? They were her race, her -kindred, but what of that? Had she not come out from among them? Has not -destiny taken her lot and separated it from theirs? Why cannot she live -her own life apart from them? Why should she come down from the throne -and take her stand among them, exposed to cruel massacre and death? What -is the obligation? Where are the ties that bound her lot to theirs? Ay, -where were the ties of love and the obligations to generosity? They are -too fine and impalpable to be proved by argument. The moment you begin -discussing them or questioning them—ties that bind brother to brother, -sister to sister, child to parent—they vanish like life dissected for. -You destroy them. They have to be felt, not proved, but are more real, -more solemn, more important in determining a man's destinies than all -the legal bonds and moral obligations that bind him in society. - -But then, again, the queen would ask herself, What would be the good of -her running such a risk? Is it reasonable that she, a single weak woman, -unskilled in the ways of courts and of cunning courtiers; that she -should be asked to plunge into a whirlpool of race-hatreds and furious -feuds between unscrupulous nobles and potentates about the court; that -she should confront the reckless rage of the royal tyrant—she, so -defenceless, so impotent, so frail? Ah, yes! once again the argument was -good to shirk the path of heroism; but once again, what business had she -to argue? When duty comes to you it is not a thing to reason about. You -have got to just go and do it. - -Mother, when your little one was struck down with the deadliest and most -infectious ailment, did you reason for one moment whether you could be -expected to risk your life, whether you were not too delicate to make it -worth while doing it, whether you would not be throwing away your -existence? If any man came and suggested that to you,—"No!" Love, duty, -they do not argue, they command. - -The fact of the matter was, the queen was standing in a false position. -She could not see the truth, she could not see the right, where she -stood. I hope I have been able to show you how very plausible, how very -weighty, the grounds were on which she made her refusal to risk her -life. But have not you yourselves felt something about a home atmosphere -in which such reasoning moved that is contemptible and despicable? Have -not you recognised its infinite pettiness and littleness? Oh, what a -narrow, contracted, selfish world that woman's heart is living in! It -has been all a question about Esther—Esther's life, Esther's risks, -Esther's obligations, as if that were the whole. Why not break down -those prison walls of littleness? Look at those thousands of -Jews—fathers, mothers, young maidens, brave lads, little children with -their bright eyes, and with terrible death impending over them. How is -Esther so forgetful of them, with their white faces and their anxious -eyes, and of God's purposes in this world? Ah, no man can ever choose -the path of right, of heroism, of goodness, of duty, till he sees and -feels himself in God's big world, and with God above him up in heaven! - -Mordecai recognised the root of the queen's cowardice, and swiftly and -sternly he sent back a reply that shattered those barriers of her -selfishness, and lifted her out of her little self-centred world, and -set her on the pinnacle whence the whole line and way of duty shone out -unmistakably. "Go back," said he—"go back and tell the queen to be -ashamed of her despicable selfishness. Does she imagine that she lives -separate and unconnected in this world of God's, so that she can save -her own life by sacrificing, cowardly, the lives of her kinsmen? Go, -tell the queen that she does not live in a will-less, random world, -where she may pick and choose the best things for herself. Go, tell her -that confronting her, sweeping round her, seizing her in its currents, -the great will of God is moving on down through the centuries. If she -will not save God's people, then God will find another deliverer, and -she herself shall be dashed aside. Go, tell the queen she may refuse the -task, but the deed shall be done. God's purpose in His chosen people -shall not be baulked. Deliverance will come to the Jews, but she, poor -blind queen, may have missed a noble vocation. Go, bid the queen look at -the strange providence that picked her out among her people, that placed -her on the throne, that set her by the side of the despot in whose hands -the fate of her people is held, and then bid her ask whether she thinks -God did that deed out of partial, indulgent favour of her petty self, or -whether it is not clear as noontide that just for this hour of peril, -and of danger, and of death, to be the redeemer and the saviour of the -Jews, God gave her that dignity and set her on the throne." - -Ah, what a new world we are in now! what a new light floods everything! -The queen felt it. All that was noble, all that was good in her waked -and gained the upper hand, and crushed down her baseness, and her -meanness, and her selfishness. And yet heroism had a struggle with the -weakness of the flesh. That is nothing strange. Remember Christ in -Gethsemane: "Oh, watch with Me, with your human sympathy and fellowship, -in My dire hour of need!" It was a cry like that that made Esther send -back that message to Mordecai. She wanted to feel the binding force of -the ties of common human brotherhood that connected her with her people -to make her strong. She saw how it was. Away from them, and living -alone, proudly, selfishly, her heart had got hard, and she could not go -out among them; but it would mean a deal for her during those days if -she knew that in every Jewish home men and women, young men and maidens, -and little children, from morning till night, were fasting, and by the -pain and abstinence of fasting kept thinking, from morning till night, -of the deadly danger hanging over them, and Esther steeling herself to -risk her life for love of them. Oh, wrapped round with that sense of -human sympathy, nerved and braved by the thought of all these human -lives hanging on her heroism, the weak woman conquered, and she could go -and do the deed of valour! - -But one thing more: the other element, the sense of her own weakness, -her own impotence—for that she needed to fall back on God. Ah, if it -were the case simply of a nation pleading with her to intercede on their -behalf, she could not have done that all alone! But when she herself, -through those two days, lived face to face with God, till this world was -filled with His presence, till all the old stories of the generous -rescues of bygone days were blazing resplendent before her eyes, -guaranteeing that it was a call of God, that God would be behind her and -with her and that His strength would be sufficient for her weakness—so -backed with intimate love and sympathy with her fellow-men, and a strong -faith in God, she could go and do her duty. Look at this striking -contrast. Read that first refusal of hers—selfish, self-centred, -cowardly, prudent. I think you feel all through it a restlessness, a -dissatisfaction, a vacillation, a nervous excitement, a sense of -uneasiness, a hidden doubt whether in saving her life she may not be -losing it. Read that reply now, when she pledges herself to go and dare -the king's deadly rage. How grand, and majestic, and calm it rings out! -solemn, earnest, like the voice of a brave veteran going on a forlorn -hope, but with the tranquillity, the serene certainty, of a brave heart -doing what it knows to be duty. Ah, the man that goes through this world -regardless of right or wrong, not asking what is duty, taking and -choosing what shall be for his own advantage, trimming, and chopping, -and setting his sails to catch every breeze of dishonourable prosperity, -the restless heart that made response hanging upon himself, every step -his own, if wrong then the upbraiding and the remorse all will be his. -Oh, the sweetness, the grandeur, the calmness of the man who has asked -simply, in any circumstances of danger and difficulty, "What is right? -what is duty? what is the will of God? what alone can and ought to be -done?" and then does it, ay, with death hanging over. He can sleep -tranquilly. He is not responsible for the issue, no matter what it be. -Here on earth he has done the right, done his duty, and the -responsibility rests on God. - -Esther, by that deed of heroism, delivered God's people from -destruction. In her measure she did the same thing that Christ did -perfectly later. Like Him, too, she laid her own life down on the altar. -That it was not sacrificed does not diminish the value of the offering. -A man does not need to perish in saving another from drowning, if he -plunge into the wild, stormy sea, to deserve an admiration as great as -if he had perished in the task. - -She did a deed of Christ. That deed roused the admiration of her day and -generation. That deed of hers was told with kindling eyes and ringing -voice, and pride and triumph, from father to child, generation after -generation. That deed of hers stood out as a pledge, a guarantee, of the -reality of God's purpose for His kingdom on earth. By her deed, in her -own day and generation, she saved God's people from imminent -destruction; by that deed, preserved in history, she lifted up and made -strong the hope and faith of generations after. And so, rightfully, her -story finds its place in that long record of the hearts, noble, and -brave, and true, who, for love of men and faith in God, at the bidding -of Heaven, loved not their own lives to death, but laid them down for -their brethren. - -Oh, we men and women have got to learn this lesson from this Bible of -ours—the real service of God, that is real religion, and that does build -God's kingdom on earth, is done not altogether, by a long way, in our -churches, in our religious exercises of worship; but done in purity, -love, and truth, and goodness, out of generous kindliness to one -another, at the bidding of God, through all the common chapters that -make up our daily life. - - - - -X. - -_THE EXAMPLE OF THE PROPHETS._ - -"Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the -Lord, for an example."—JAMES v. 10. - - -We possess the books produced in olden times by a number of different -nations. Each national literature has its own peculiarities. The -literature of Israel has various features that are very characteristic -of it. Among them all, one stands out and is unique. All along the -nation had a conviction that they were destined to be the greatest -nation in the world, and they believed that this destiny of theirs lay -in the fact that through their government the world was to be made good, -righteous, holy, and happy. They believed that God had a large plan, -embracing the whole world in its operations; they believed that God was -using all the different races as tools to work out that design of His; -but they held that infinitely beyond all lesser instruments, He had made -up His mind to employ Israel in accomplishing that great purpose of His -high heart; through Israel He was to make the whole world into one -Divine kingdom, ruled by Himself, and reverencing Himself as the one -only God and Lord. - -The mass of the people constantly forgot that sense of a lofty destiny; -they constantly tired of that great ideal; they chose to prefer present -gain and advantage; they disregarded that predicted end of their history -in determining their contemporary policy in relation to other nations; -they were dumb, and blind, and deaf to that feeling of God's movement in -history and His purpose for the future. Nevertheless, in every age down -through that nation's story there existed in their midst men who were -possessed by a supreme conviction of this presence, and power, and -purpose of God, men who sacrificed bread, profession, home, happiness, -and life itself, that they might seek to carry out that intention and -desire of God. In every age they declared what God wanted Israel to be -and to do. In every age they recommended a policy founded on that -destiny of Israel and that design of God. The darker the national -history grew, the more decided was their certainty of the fulfilment of -God's purpose. But this singular change took place in the form in which -they conceived that fulfilment: In the earlier times Israel—the whole -nation—was to be the minister of God's intention; but as age after age -exhibited the depravity, the unholiness, and the jealousy of the nation, -the thought of the coming kingdom of promise, and of gladness and -goodness, concentrated itself not so much about the people, but about -the King. More and more, it was not the chosen _people_ of Israel, but -it was the chosen _Son_ of Israel, the chosen Heir of David, the coming -Deliverer, the King, that was to bring it in. It is a strange spectacle -to behold how God, by His external dealings with the people of Israel, -and by the development of their conduct, led His servants the prophets -to see that if ever this grand purpose of God for mankind was to be -accomplished, it could not be done by the whole people, or any number of -them, but must be done by one single individual, who should combine in -his character all the goodness, and all the truth, and all the -knowledge, and all the power of God that were necessary to make a -kingdom of God on earth. So it came to pass that inside the progress of -Israel's history, as a wall down the long march of that history, there -was a line of men first of all foreseeing a grand future, mainly -connected with Israel in the government of the nation, and gradually -defining more brightly the covenant, and the establishment, and the -maintenance of that kingdom as contained in the person, in the -character, in the work, in the heart, in the sufferings, in the triumph -of a great coming Messenger of God, a Man of God, a Son of God, yet so -stamped with Divinity that He gets names which set Him on a level with -God. It is the long procession of prophets, the line of foreseers, who, -in succession to the patriarchs, touch, ages in advance, the coming of -Christ, and make the world expect it, and preserve faith in mankind till -Christ does come. - -The history of these men within their own nation is striking. As a rule, -they stood in a small minority, were despised and disbelieved, had to -maintain the truth of their Divine conviction in the face of almost -universal denial, were ill-treated and persecuted, were declared to be -impostors or traitors to the national cause, were cast out, and an -immense number of them were killed. But as time rolled on the -development of events proved that those men had seen the calamities and -vengeances of God which had been foretold as about to fall on Israel, -because of Israel's sin. The people were cast out of their own native -land; they were driven into captivity, and in captivity they remembered -what the prophets had spoken; and then, with humble hearts and penitent -spirits, they said to themselves "Those men were right; they spoke true; -they anticipated what has come to pass; God was with them; they were His -messengers; we were in the wrong; it was a true word from heaven that -they uttered amongst us;" and so the old contempt and disbelief vanished -away, and there came a reverence and a faith for those prophets that -almost reached the verge of superstition; they gathered together their -writings; they treasured them, and made the books of those prophets into -their Bible. It is in that fashion that our own Old Testament of the -prophets was formed. The prophets were first rejected, derided, put to -death, and, then with repentance and humility, accepted as the true -messengers of God, taken as authoritative interpreters of God's mind and -will; their writings were treasured and preserved, and made into the -national Bible. - -It is these prophets that the Apostle James bids us take as an example. -He means that every Christian man and every Christian woman is, in a -measure, to be a prophet; He means especially that every Christian man -and every Christian woman in the battle of life stands in some measure -between God and others, and is to be a prophet. He means further that -every father is to do for his children what those prophets did for -Israel—he is to make them know God. He means that every mother is to be -the very channel of making her children come into contact with God's -character, and comprehend God's intentions for them. He means especially -that every Sunday-school teacher is to be just what those old prophets -were in Israel—to make others who are more ignorant than he is sensible -of the presence, and purpose, and progression of God's designs through -life in his own present age and time. He means that every preacher, and -every teacher, and every man who speaks about religion is, in his -conduct and character, and what he teaches and what he preaches, to be a -prophet. And above all, he means that one and all of us of this age -shall, even down to the humblest Christian, who hardly has any -influence, act as a mediator or interpreter between other men and God, -as did many of the prophets, with an unswerving belief of the truth, and -with a patience and perseverance of spirit in every unenlightened time, -and amidst the most adverse circumstances, founded upon the certainty of -the fulfilment of God's promise that Christ should come, and shall come -again. - -Now I want to say a few things to you about the character and the office -of those prophets in the world, that we may see some respects in which -we may and certainly ought to imitate them. What was a prophet? I -imagine that many of us are content with a very superficial notion of -the part played in actual life by those men. I imagine, because of the -class of books that has been written in great profusion in our present -century, and is still written, that we are apt to think of a prophet -simply and only as a man who predicted things that were going to -happen—incidents and events that were to fall out in the unfolding of -history. The prophets did a vast deal more than that, and the very -essence, and life, and grandeur of their character and conduct appear -only in a small fragment in that portion of their office. Their real -movement and meaning are in quite another department. - -If we wish to know what a prophet is, we may, first of all, take the -names given to the prophets in the Bible. Then, again, we may remember -who were the prophets. And then we may take their writings, the records -of their deeds, the history that tells of their fortunes. What are the -names given to a prophet in the Old Testament? The first and holiest is -"a man of God"—"the man of God." All that that tells us is that in a -peculiar sense the prophet belonged to God. The next name is "the -servant of God." That tells us that he belonged to God in the sense of -serving God, doing things for God. Then he is called "the ambassador, or -the messenger, of God." That tells you that he served God by bringing -messages from God. Then he is called an interpreter. That tells you that -it was to men he took God's message, and that he had to make it -understood by them. The next thing that we come to is a "seer," -connected with the word "watchman," a spier or seer. It means one who -saw what other men could not see, who saw into God's mind, who saw God, -who saw what God was about. It tells us how he got to know his message, -how he learnt it; it was by insight, seeing into the hidden, underlying -purposes of God. Then the last name of all is what we translate -"prophet," and it literally means a man who bubbles up and runs over, -whose heart gushes out, in the sense of being poured into, that what is -poured in comes out of him. It tells us that he pours out what he has -learnt, to other men; and it adds this shade of meaning (the very form -of the Hebrew word does so), that he is, as it were, spoken through; it -does not end with himself, nor does it take its rise with himself, but -it comes into him like a flood, and it overflows; he cannot help -himself; he is possessed, he is pressed; he is compelled to utter what -his God tells him. - -The names of a prophet, therefore, tell us this; this is his function; -he, beyond other men, has to do with God, belongs to God; he belongs to -God in being God's servant; he is God's servant in being God's -messenger; he is God's messenger in bringing things to men that God -wants men to know; he learns what he has to tell men by seeing it -himself, by knowing it, understanding it, feeling it, and then he utters -it by a resistless compulsion and impulse, the fire burning in his -heart, a pressure being put on him to tell what God has taught him. -Already you have got the thought of a man with a grandeur, a greatness, -a significance, and a meaning immensely above what you think of when you -think of a man who can tell you where an axe which has been lost is to -be found, or whether a sick person will die or live, or whether a town -is going to be destroyed or not. What you have is a living, breathing, -warming channel of communication between the great God in heaven and the -human hearts of men on earth. - -Then, who were the prophets? Moses was a prophet, the greatest of all -the Old Testament prophets. He was a prophet because of his whole -life work, not because once or twice he predicted a thing which was -going to happen. Because he was Moses, the moulder and the maker of -Israel, and the giver to them of all their knowledge about God which is -contained in God's law, therefore Moses was a prophet. Samuel was a -prophet; Saul the king was a prophet for one night, when he lay on the -ground in an ecstasy, and uttered strange sayings. There were all kinds -of prophets; I cannot deal with them all. Isaiah was a prophet; Daniel -was a prophet supremely. Christ was _the_ Prophet, and the complete -Prophet. How? Because He foretold the doom of Jerusalem? Because He -foretold His own death? Undoubtedly because He did those things; but -that was not why He was called the Prophet. Why was it? A very excellent -book, the Shorter Catechism, puts it better than I can: "Jesus Christ is -a Prophet in making known to us the mind and will of God for our -salvation." - -I put this deliberately and very strongly, almost unduly depreciating -the idea of foretelling future events, just because I know from my own -experience, and certainly from the experience of others, that one thinks -that the latter is the whole meaning of the word. It is startling and -intensely interesting when you can pick out a prediction which was -uttered ages before, and which was afterwards fulfilled. By all means -take that; but never forget that, just like Christ's miracles, it was, -as it were, only the accompaniment of the prophet's main work as a -prophet, and that the real work of a prophet is making known unto us the -whole character, and heart, and mind, and will of God, as these are -revealed in working out the world's salvation. - -If you turn to the writings of the prophets in the Old Testament you -instantly discover that that is the true idea of a prophet. Take Isaiah, -take Micah, take Jeremiah, take any prophet you please; every here and -there you come upon a prediction—"Babylon shall be destroyed;" "Nineveh -shall be destroyed." Yes, but it is one prediction, as an impassioned -declaration of God's ways to men, showing how He must punish their -wickedness, and must visit the impenitent. But the story of God's -character and dealings for the world's redemption is, after all, the -grand substance of Old Testament prophecy; it is a record of God's pity -for mankind, and His determination to make them holy and happy, and of -the fact that it is all to be done by the great coming Christ, the -world's Sacrifice and the world's Saviour. - -And when you are told to take the prophets as your example do not go -away saying, "I cannot predict future events, and astonish people, and -make them feel that I have some supernatural power." No, they could not -be _that_ example to you. A prophet was a man who knew the character of -the true and living God; and because he knew and loved Him, and was -living with Him, he made other men know Him, and feel Him, and -understand Him too. - -I have no time to enter into all the questions concerning the precise -manner in which the prophet got to know God's mind and will—by dream, in -ecstasy, in lofty rapt thought, in wonderful insight into the Spirit of -God, and sometimes by a vision like that of Isaiah, where he "saw the -Lord, high and lifted up," on His throne. Or, the prophet got to know -God in a similar way to that which we read of in the case of the child -Samuel, when the voice of God in the lonely Temple struck upon the -child's ear so that there was nothing startling, and he thought it was -his master's voice calling him; but he lived to see the terrible -fulfilment of the first teaching which God gave to the child, in that -which befell the master. I have no time to go into all that, nor to -enter largely into the place and purpose of the prophets in working out -that history which shows, when properly understood, nothing else but the -growth of the Spirit of Jesus Christ through the ages, till that Spirit -came in its completion in Jesus the Son of Mary; for _there_ is the -whole meaning of the prophets in Israel; they were an incarnation of the -very same heart, and mind, and will of the Divine dispensation and of -God for the world's redemption which were in Jesus; it was the Spirit of -Jesus. And do not put away the words as a mere figure unless you put -away the words as a mere figure when you read that Jesus was the -incarnate Son of God. It was the very Spirit of God. The same Spirit as -was consummate in Jesus, the perfect Prophet because the perfect -Revelation of God, in its measure was present in every prophet who made -the people believe God as they had never done before, and recognise His -presence in the history of their time. The prophets taught them to -repent of their sin, to live for God, to take their share in the great -conflicts for righteousness that God was fighting in their age. In a -measure the Spirit of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour of the -world, was present in every age of it. There is scarcely any occurrence, -any story, any Psalm, in the prophecies of the Old Testament, which has -not an application to Jesus Christ, and a meaning showing that He is in -it. It is made a specimen, as it were, of all that is practically to be -found in Him. The history of Israel in prophecy, which was the rising -and the beginning of the future history of Israel, was just the growing -of Jesus through the ages, till at length He culminated in the Son of -Mary. - -I want to-day rather to tell you some of the qualifications of a -prophet—some of the elements of character that a man must have if he is -to play the part of a prophet to the people he lives among, bidding -myself and you take the prophets as an example. One thing is -remarkable—the office of a prophet was not hereditary. The great -departments of God's government, and teaching, and dealings with Israel -were the kingship, the priesthood, and the prophethood—the rule, the -fellowship, and the teaching and guidance. Now, all these culminated in -Jesus; He is Prophet, Priest, and King. In Israel no mere man or body of -men was fit in unity to fill those offices; they were distributed. The -burden was too great, the power was too grand, for any single man, -except the perfect Son of Man, to combine them in their fulness, and so -they were divided in Israel, to be reunited in the perfect embodiment of -Israel, God, Prophet, Priest, and King to the people. God's meaning was -that all Israel in its completeness should be king, and prophet, and -priest, without any active, separated, divided government; that it -should be a theocracy, as God's kingdom, ruling themselves, every one of -them being a king to God, every one of them being a priest, every one of -them being able to come direct to God for himself, and to bring his -prayers to God without any intervention of man; in the same way every -man, as a prophet, hearing God's voice direct to his heart, and being -taught the truth that God revealed. God wanted them all to be prophets; -God wanted them all to be priests; God wanted them all to be kings: but -they were not fit for it, and so among them special men had to be -cultivated to fill those offices. Now, there is this distinction between -those divided offices or faculties of God's rule and guidance in Israel: -the kingship was hereditary; the priesthood was hereditary: the -prophethood was never hereditary. A priest's son was born a priest; a -king's son was born a king: a prophet's son was not born a prophet. The -prophets were selected, not born. Why? Because it was the supreme and -grandest office, the most difficult, the most responsible, the most -sacred. Any man was fit to be a priest, to conduct the ritual and -external ordinances of worship, through which men's hearts were brought -to God. And any man, comparatively, might be a king, so long as he -devoted to his office that amount of thought and time which was -necessary. It needed no special moral qualifications and no special -insight. A man was the better who had these, but he could be a good -enough king without them. But a prophet could not be born a prophet; a -prophet had to be chosen, a prophet had to be made by God. And the -reason was this: the prophethood was a creative office and function. -God's dealings with Israel were not done when He had given the ancient -economy of a religious priesthood and kingdom. God had to reshape, and -remodel, and adopt His laws, and teaching, and meaning, and the outward -ordinances of religion to every age. As the nation both externally and -internally altered, new teaching had to come to it at the hands of the -prophets. - -Were the priests the channel by which God could do it? Their duty was -fixed, and in the law, as well as in the form of government, men could -not err; they could follow the Divine precepts exactly in administering -them. But when an addition has to be made, and a remoulding to take -place, it wants a man capable of entering with strange, grand insight -into God's purposes, a man with eyes, with soul; it needs a man lifted -up. And so the prophets' office was never hereditary; they were always -selected; God chose them; why? Why did God choose one man, and not -another? I think that He chose a man, first of all, who had a natural -adaptation, who had rare powers of mind, who had rare genius and -sympathetic feeling, and not a mere presentiment of the movements of the -world and its destiny as it went on round about him. I think that, as a -rule, God selected a man with a natural adaptation, and prepared him for -all that he had to do and tell. It transformed a man's life; it took him -clean out of the common world in which men lived. We presume that it was -so from what is recorded, and from the facts which we know concerning -the prophets' characters and lives. God caused something to happen to a -man that made God appear to him what He was not to common men. An awful -vision was presented to Isaiah of the great, grand God, and thenceforth -all earthly considerations were nothing to Isaiah. He had seen _God_, -and the future was God's making. In the face of empires, however mighty -in name and in armies, it is the will of God that settles the future, -and such a man disregards all earthly advantages; he knows that God -means to do His deed; he says, "It shall be done; and if you set -yourselves against it there is no other end than destruction, which is -sure to fall upon you, for God will do the deed which He means to do." -It was a revelation of _God_ which made the man a prophet; it made him a -man who felt God to be supreme; it made him to be certain of God's -sovereignty, and absoluteness, and the goodness of God's authority; so -that nothing could induce him to swerve from the path that God appointed -for him. He was a man who stood like a rock amidst the earthly, selfish, -planning, scheming men of his time, and declared the future truly, -because he had seen God's meaning, and held men to it; and when they -would not be so held he was content to die, declaring the truth of his -message, and looking forward to the time when the future would manifest -its truth. He was a fit prophet, a living teacher, who spoke of the -future—a grand man, with a grand office and a grand destiny to play in -the world. - -The man, the father, the mother, the teacher, the preacher, who takes -the prophets as examples, who will play his destined part in his own -little home, in his own Sunday-school class, in his own congregation, in -his own neighbourhood, in the great world round about him, must be a -prophet; he must be a man who knows God; he must be a man who feels God -to be all about him; he must be a man who is not merely orthodox in -theology, and believes all that is written about God's dealings in the -past; but he must be a man that will make you know that God is living, -and moving, and loving in the events of his own time; he must be a man -who recognises God in the providences of his own life; he must be a man -who does not shape his conduct for earthly gain or for social advantage; -he must be a man despising all these things, and paying heed to his own -high destiny, yet whose character and conduct move on the lines which I -have indicated; who says, "God is making me great, but He bids me live -as He lives—but He bids me sacrifice friends and home; I _must_ do it; I -_must_ tell this truth, though all good men should be against me, for I -have learnt it of God, at my risk of having mistaken its meaning; yet I -must speak it." Ay, even if such a man makes mistakes in learning this -new lesson of God, and does not read it quite right, even if he goes -wrong, nevertheless he has life in him, Divine life; he has honesty; he -is a true man; he is a man who is not of the world; he is a man who is -not a mere ecclesiastic; he is a man who is not a mere self-seeker. That -man does God's work on earth. And I venture to say that in the Church's -story you will find that there has been a succession of men who have -done what was the work of the priest in the old time, and there has been -a succession of men who have done the work of the prophet. You need -both; you need the priest, to keep alive, as it were, the ordinary level -of religion, to preserve some sort of uniformity; and in the Church's -story you will find that God has raised up prophets, men who sometimes -broke loose, who were not always true, who sometimes mistook God's -meaning, who had but little of the character of the old prophets, and -yet who taught truth, and adapted the old ecclesiastical doctrines to -the new necessities, suiting their work to the age; and though -disbelieved and openly denounced in their own day, they have become our -teachers since. What of the Reformers? what of Wesley? what of -Whitefield? what of many another name, much nearer our own time, but -which does not diminish the effect of the general principle? Ay, and -what of men not so good and great as these, but who had life in them; -who broke up the stagnation of ecclesiastical life, and brought new -faith to men; who by their dazzling earnestness, and spiritual insight, -and their teaching brought up the ordinary level of God's presence? -Thank God it is so. It is the lot of the human prophet and priest, and -of similar teachers, in our day, to make men know that there is a God, -and a Christ, and a soul to be saved, and that they are men, and not -mere machines. Thank God for it; but pray God to make you and me true -prophets; pray God to give us the passion of prophets, to give us -sympathy with all the wants of the age, to give us to know that He is -moving, to give us to know what new teachings come from Him; pray God to -give us generosity, and self-sacrifice, and liberality, and largeness of -heart, with our means, with our abilities, with our whole soul, with our -prayers and spirits, and all that we have, to play our part as faithful -prophets in the world's story, showing men God, and winning them to -follow Him. - - - - -XI. - -_THE MAKING OF A PROPHET._[2] - -"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, -high and lifted up, and His train overspreading the temple floor. -Seraphs were poised above, each with six wings, with twain veiling his -face, with twain veiling his feet, and with twain hovering. And those on -one side sang in responsive chorus with those on the other side, saying, -'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts.' 'The fulness of the whole earth -is His glory.' And the foundations of the threshold trembled at the -sound of that singing, and the house was filled with incense smoke. Then -cried I, 'Woe is me! for I am a dead man; because I am a man of unclean -lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for mine -eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.' Then flew one of the -seraphs unto me, having in his hand a burning ember, which with a tongs -he had taken from off the incense altar; and he touched my mouth with -it, and said, 'Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is -taken away, and thy sin purged.' Thereupon I heard the voice of the -Lord, saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I cried, -'See me; send me.'"—ISAIAH vi. 1-8 (_annotated_). - - -Isaiah was a prophet. A prophet, we say, was a man who foretold future -events. It is not an apt description. He did that, and much more -besides. He interpreted past, present, and future alike in the light of -eternal truth. But his supreme concern was with the present, and he -cared for the past and the future only as they threw light on the -problems of instant, pressing duty. The prophet was no dealer in -futurities, no dreamer babbling to an age unborn. He was a potent actor -in history, living and working amid the actual sins, and sorrows, and -struggles of his day and generation. - -Read the memoirs of Isaiah, and you will see how intense and intimate -was the part he played in the life and movement of his age. One day you -will find him at the Temple, scathing with scornful reprobation the -hypocrisy and hollowness of the established ritual of religion. Another -time he has taken his stand over against the fashionable promenade of -Jerusalem, and as he watches the passing procession of pomp and -opulence, built up on the misery and degradation of defenceless poverty, -his heart grows hot with honest indignation, and he breaks into -impassioned invective against the stream of selfish luxury, as it rolls -by with a smiling face and a cruel heart. Again, he forces his way into -a meeting of the Privy Council, fearlessly confronts the King and his -advisers, denounces the iniquity of a faithless foreign policy and -sternly demands its abandonment. In every department of national life, -in every section of social and religious existence, his voice was heard -and his personality felt. Yet nobody ever mistook him for a mere -politician, philanthropist, or reformer. He was ever, and was ever felt -to be, a prophet. For he did not speak like other men, he did not act -like other men, he did not reason like other men. He spoke not for -himself, but for God. He claimed for his speech, not the persuasiveness -of human probability, but the imperativeness of Divine certainty. He -relied solely on the coercive power of truth. He did not touch the tools -of political partisanship or scheming statecraft. He cared nothing for -the suggestions of expediency; he defied the most certain conclusions of -earthly wisdom, and followed absolutely the bidding of an unseen -guidance. He was a man taken possession of by an irresistible perception -of the will of God, and an all-absorbing passion to have that will done -on earth. He held in the commonwealth the place that is held by that -inexorable voice which, deaf to all balancings of earthly gain or loss, -unflinchingly proclaims the antithesis of right and wrong, and -imperatively demands that right shall be obeyed. The prophet was the -conscience of the nation. Preachers and teachers of religion, that is -what England asks of us. It is a high calling. - -The office of a prophet was not an easy one. The man had to hazard or -sacrifice most of those things that men count dear—property, popularity, -home. Every day he had to take his life in his hand, as he risked the -rage of a royal tyrant, or faced the fury of insensate mobs. Still -harder was it to stand alone in his faith and opinion, rejected by the -multitude, by the wealth, by the wisdom of his day, mocked or pitied as -a madman; hardest of all to see his efforts foiled, his country -humiliated, his people depraved, to feel his heart sink within him, to -struggle with dark misgivings, to doubt the reality of the Divine -prompting, and despairingly to ask whether this world were indeed -governed by a righteous Will, or were not rather the sport of blind -caprice or the slave of iron fate! Ah! it was not easy to be a prophet. -Before a man could become a prophet he needed to possess a knowledge of -God of such absolute certainty as nothing could shake. Once at least in -his life he must have come into actual contact with God. - -The experience that made Isaiah a prophet took the form of a vision. It -happened in a period of distressing perplexity and gloom. Wrestling -passionately with the darkness, craving wistfully for light, the -yearning to see God in the man's soul became so intense and sensitive -that the great Heart in heaven answered the longing of the heart on -earth, and aspiration leapt into realisation, and faith flashed into -vision. On a throne, high and lifted up, crowning and dominating all -things, fixed on immovable foundations, untouched by the changes of -time, unshaken by the shocks of history, Isaiah beheld, seated in -sovereign supremacy, a Form of ineffable splendour, the power and -presence of the Eternal in awful actuality, beyond all doubt or question -the Lord of the universe and the Arbiter of destiny. Henceforth he could -never doubt the being and the might of God. That is a great experience, -but it leaves the heart unsatisfied. We want to know the nature, the -character of this God, who holds our fortunes in His awful hands. Is He -good, and just, and gentle, or hard, and cold, and cruel? The answer -came to Isaiah in the seraphs' song of adoration, with its ascription of -perfect triune holiness. It told him that in God is light, and no -darkness at all. Through and through, utterly and absolutely, in every -chord and fibre of His being, there is no baseness, no harshness, no -injustice; there is nothing but stainless purity and splendour, nothing -but radiant justice, goodness, and truth. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord -of hosts." Still, one wistful doubt, one anxious question, lingers in -the human heart. For what were our poor world the better of this holy -God if He be content to sit aloof in the light and glory of heaven, -leaving the web of human story to be woven by the blundering fingers of -sinning, erring men on earth? That fear, too, was laid for ever in -Isaiah's soul by the comforting response of the seraphs' chorus. God -does not sit apart in frigid isolation, but with His own hands He guides -and controls our lost world's course. Into its strange, sad, perplexing -progress He is pouring the goodness, truth, and love of His holy heart; -and so when the record is finished and fulfilled, every page and -syllable shall shine with that hidden holiness come to manifested light -and splendour. "The fulness of the whole earth is His glory!" That sight -of God—the living, holy, loving God—made Isaiah a prophet. Preachers and -teachers of to-day, if we are to be prophets, we need just such a sight -of God. - -The vision of God made Isaiah a prophet; but the immediate effect was -something very different. The first effect of contact with God was to -produce in his soul an intolerable sense of sin. "Woe is me! for I am -undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of -a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of -hosts." Was, then, Isaiah an exceptionally wicked man? Hardly, when God -chose him as His ambassador. But if not, is, then, the proper effect on -a good man of an access of nearness to God an overwhelming consciousness -of personal defilement? What else should it be? Had Isaiah been a -Pharisee, he would have seized the opportunity of his sudden vicinity to -the Almighty to direct the Divine attention to his virtues, and -excellence, and superiority over other men. Had he been one of those -philosophers in whom the heart has been overlaid by the intellect, he -would have calmly proceeded to make observations on the Divine for a new -theory of the Absolute and Unconditioned, in sublime insensibility to -the deepest problem of existence, the awful antithesis of human sin and -of Divine holiness. Because Isaiah was a good man, his new proximity to -God woke within him a crushing horror of defilement and undoneness. And -it was so precisely because he had never been so near to God before, and -had never felt himself of so much importance. Away down here, sinning -among his fellow-men, the blots and blemishes of his soul seemed of -little moment. But up there, in the stainless light of heaven, with -God's holy eyes resting on him, every spot of sin within him grew hot -and horrible, every defiling stain an insult and a suffering inflicted -on the sensitive holiness of God. What he does has an effect on God; -what he is, is of consequence to God. Never had Isaiah felt himself so -near to God; never had he felt himself of such importance to his Maker; -and therefore never had he felt his sin so black and so unpardonable. -Believe me, these two things are linked together, and no man can divorce -them—the dignity of humanity and the damnableness of sin. You cannot -tamper with the one without touching the other. Men may, of laxity or of -pitifulness, seek to extenuate the guilt of sin and its infinite -possibilities of woes; but be sure of this, they will be compelled ere -long to attenuate the moral grandeur of our human nature, and to -surrender its majestic birthright of immortality. Two things go hand in -hand through the Bible, from the first chapter to the last, and mark it -out from all other books: the one is its unique and awful sense of the -guiltiness of sin; the other is the quite unapproachable splendour of -its conception of the dignity of man, made in the image of God, and -destined for His service here, and the fellowship of His love for -evermore. - -The ethical process by which, in the imagery of the vision, Isaiah's -sense of sinfulness came home to him, is finely natural and simple. It -was at his lips that the consciousness of his impurity caught him. "Woe -is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips." That, -judged by our formulas and standards, might seem a somewhat superficial -conviction of sin. We should have expected him to speak of his unclean -heart, or the total corruption of his whole nature. But conviction of -sin, actual conviction of sin, is very regardless of our theories, and -is as diverse in its manifestations as are the characters and records of -men. Sin finds out one man in one place, and another in a quite -different spot, and perhaps the experience is most real when it is least -theological. Isaiah felt his defilement in his lips, for suddenly he -found himself at heaven's gate, gazing on the glory of God, and -listening to the seraphs' ceaseless song of adoring praise. Isaiah loved -God, and instinctively he prepared to join his voice to the seraphs' -chant, but ere the harmony could pass his lips he caught his breath and -was dumb. A horrible sense of uncleanness had seized him. His breath was -tainted by his sin. He dared not mingle his polluted praise with the -worship of that pure, sinless host of heaven. Oh, the shame and agony of -that disability! for it meant that he has no part or place in that fair -scene. He is an alien and an intruder. Its beauty and its sweetness are -not for him. He belongs to a very different scene and a very different -company. He is no inhabitant of heaven, no servant of God; but a denizen -of earth, and a companion of sinners. Down there, amid its squalor, and -shame, and uncleanness, is his dwelling-place, remote from heaven, and -holiness, and God. "Woe is me! because I am a man of unclean lips, and I -dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips." With that, the horror -of his situation reached its climax. He stands there, on the threshold -of heaven in full sight of God and of His holiness, dumb and praiseless, -while all heaven rings and reverberates with the worship of its adoring -hosts. The awful tremor of that celestial praise passed into Isaiah's -frame, and it seemed like the pangs of instant dissolution. He, a -creature of God's, stands there in his Maker's presence, alone mute, -alone refusing to chant his Creator's glory, a blot and blank in the -holy harmony of heaven, a horrible and foul blemish amid the unsullied -purity of that celestial scene. It seemed to Isaiah as if all the light, -and glory, and holiness of heaven were gathering itself into one fierce -lightning fire of vengeance, to overwhelm and crush him out of -existence. "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean -lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine -eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts." - -Isaiah in the presence of God felt within him the pang of that death -which must be the end of unpardoned sin in contact with the Divine -holiness. He felt himself already as good as dead, yet never in all his -life had he so longed to live as now, in sight of God, and heaven, and -holiness. He did not ask to escape. He was too overwhelmed to pray or -hope. But to God's heart that cry of despair was an infinitely -persuasive prayer for mercy. Ah! Heaven needs no lengthy explanation, -nor requires the recital of prescribed forms or theories. The moment a -sinful soul turns loathingly from sin, and longingly to God and -goodness, that instant the Heart above responds, and meets it with pity, -pardon, hope. Ere the piteous echo of Isaiah's cry had died away, one of -the seraphs flew with a burning ember from the incense altar, and laid -it on Isaiah's mouth, and said, "Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and -thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged." The action is of -course symbolic, but the thing symbolised is a great spiritual fact. In -it we have mirrored the very heart of the process of redemption. The -cleansing efficacy of the burning ember resided not in the ember, but in -the Divine fire contained in it. In the imagery of sacrifice the fire is -always conceived as God's method of accepting and taking to Himself the -offering. The sacred flame that comes down from God, licks up the -sacrifice, and in vapour carries it up to heaven; a sweet-smelling -savour represents, therefore, the pitying holiness of God, that stoops -forgivingly to sinful men, and graciously accepts and sanctifies them -and their sacrifices. Contact with that has sin-cleansing power, and -nothing has besides. Pagan sages and Christian saints alike unite in -proclaiming the overmastering strength of sin. Mightier than nature's -most potent forces, stronger than all influences of persuasion, not to -be reversed or uprooted by any resources of earthly origin, is the grasp -of inveterate sin within the sinner's soul. Is there, then, no -possibility of recovery, no way of cleansing, no ray of hope? One there -is, and one alone. If Divine Purity would but stoop in pity to the -sinful one, would but enter, in claiming love, into his polluted soul, -would but come into actual contact and conflict with the sin and -uncleanness in a decisive struggle of triumph or defeat, then which must -prove the stronger, which must conquer—human sinfulness or Divine -holiness? Ay, if only God so loves our sin-stained race as that His -stainless purity enters really into our humanity, and wrestles with our -impurity in a contact that must be suffering to the Divine holiness, and -is sin-cleansing to us, that were salvation surely, that were -redemption. But is it a reality? Brethren, Jesus Christ has lived, and -died, and lives again, and we know that His Holy Spirit dwells in us and -in our world. That, and that alone, is salvation—not any theories, nor -any rites, but God's Holy Spirit given unto us. - -It was at Isaiah's lips that the sense of sin had stung him, and it was -there that he received the cleansing. The seraph laid the hot ember on -his lips, and it left about his mouth the fragrance of the celestial -incense. He felt that he breathed the atmosphere and purity of heaven. -He too might now join in heaven's praise and service; no more an alien, -but a member of the celestial choir and a servant of the King. That act -of Divine mercy had transformed him. He was a new creature, and -instantly the change appeared. The voice of God sounds through the -temple, saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And the -first of all heaven's hosts to offer is Isaiah. A moment before he had -shrunk back, crushed and despairing, from God's presence, feeling as if -the Divine gaze were death to him. Now he springs forward, invokes God's -attention on himself, and before all heaven's tried and trusty -messengers proposes himself as God's ambassador. Was it presumption? was -it self-assertion? I think if ever Isaiah was not thinking of himself at -all, if ever he had utterly forgotten self, and pride, and all things, -and was conscious only of God, and goodness, and gratitude, it was then, -when his heart was running over with wonder, love, and praise for God's -unspeakable mercy to him. It was not presumption; it was a true and -beautiful instinct, that made him yearn with resistless longing to do -something for that God who had shown such grace to him. Oh, the tender -love and irrepressible devotion of a forgiven heart! Nothing can -restrain it, nothing hold it back. Salvation, real salvation, springs -resistlessly onward into service. - -[Footnote 2: Preached at Nottingham, before the Congregational Union of -England and Wales, on Monday evening, October 8th, 1888.] - - - - -XII. - -_FOR AND AGAINST CHRIST._ - -"He that is not with Me is against Me: and he that gathereth not with Me -scattereth."—LUKE xi. 23. - -"He that is not against us is on our part."—MARK ix. 40. - - -It has never been an easy task to settle with any degree of exactitude -who among men should be reckoned the Saviour's friends, and who His -foes. But perhaps no time has surrounded the problem with such -difficulties as those that arise from the circumstances of our own age. -On every side we see truth and error intertwined in such a perplexing -tangle that we scarce know on which side to rank men and parties. The -Church of Christ is divided into so many divergent sections, within -which good and evil are so strangely combined, that you can hardly tell -if they are for Christ or against. You find men of unexceptionable -profession and ample creed, but with a jarring life and scant morality. -On the other hand, you see men whose creed is erroneous or imperfect, -but whose life and character are instinct with the spirit of Christ. And -amid such anomalies you feel it almost impossible to determine, with -even an approach to certainty, whom you shall count followers, and whom -foes, of the Lord Jesus Christ. - -True, we are not called to sit in judgment on the inner state of heart, -the hidden attitude of men's spirits, which is cognisable only by -"larger, other eyes than ours;" yet we must for practical guidance form -a conditional opinion regarding the position and action of our -fellow-men; for so alone can we determine our treatment of them; so -alone can we decide whether it is our duty to oppose or co-operate with -them, to acknowledge them as brethren or deny to them the name of Christ. - -Besides, for your own comfort, you must have some standard or test to -determine who are Christ's and who are not, for otherwise how shall you -be able to adjudicate on your own case? You are confronted, it may be, -by large and influential bodies of Christians who declare you to be no -member of Christ's Church at all, because you do not follow after them. -You feel all the weight that attends such a verdict; you are sensible of -the solemn, tragic awfulness of the question; you are humble, diffident, -uncertain yourself of many things, and so, perchance, your heart knows -little rest or peace. You would give much to ascertain some sure test by -which you could settle, once and for ever, whether you are on Christ's -side or against Him. - -For our guidance in such matters we can do no better thing than to try -and understand how the Saviour, when He was on earth, estimated the -attitudes of men to Himself. Let us try, then, to determine the -principles that guided Him. - -He had come with a very definite aim in view, viz., to establish a -kingdom of heaven on earth; that is to say, to secure the domination of -men's hearts by God's will, so that they should always act in accordance -with the Divine decrees. Or, in other words, He had come to perform this -work of delivering men from sin, of making them pure, and holy, and -Godlike. For this end, He sought to bring them under His immediate -influence, to gather and attach them to His Person, to inspire them with -faith and love for Himself. All who aided in this, all who contributed -to draw men to Him, all who strove to make Christ and His word accepted -and esteemed, all who were at one with Him in His aim, manifestly, were -counted by Him as friends; while, on the contrary, those who exerted -themselves to thwart Him, who endeavoured to alienate men from His -Person and doctrine, all such were His enemies, were against Him. - -"But," you may be inclined to say, "while it is true there were some men -who did devote themselves to active support of Christ, and others who -did commit themselves to declared hostility, was there not, between -these two opposing classes, a large number who took sides neither for -nor against Him, but preserved a sort of neutrality? What, then, does -Christ say of these?" The two sayings of our Lord which I have taken for -my text have both been applied to solve this problem. At first sight -they have the appearance of clashing with one another. "He that is not -with Me is against Me" seems to be a declaration that all who were not -positive friends were really enemies, and thus to imply that the Master -classed this whole body of neutrals as foes; and so some use it. But -again, the second saying, "He that is not against us is on our part," -has the appearance of asserting that all who are not declared foes are -in reality the Saviour's friends, and so, according to this principle, -all neutrals should be counted as allies. The appearance of discrepancy -only lasts when you look at these sayings singly and apart from their -occasions. They speak not of neutrals at all. Taken in conjunction, they -are seen to enunciate, in fact, quite a different principle, viz., that -in regard to Christ, indifferentism, neutrality, is impossible, and that -every man must be either for or against the Saviour. "He that is not a -friend is a foe," while "he that is not a foe is a friend;" consequently -there is no such thing as a position of neither friendship nor enmity. - -Let us, then, run cursorily over the incidents that gave rise to these -two sayings, in order that we may see what is the essential character of -the two attitudes of being for or against Christ, and so exhibit how -neutrality is impossible. - -One day a man possessed of a dumb devil was brought to Jesus. By His -word of power Jesus cast out the evil spirit, and immediately the man -regained the power of speech. The crowd looking on were filled with -wonder and admiration. They were pleased at the good deed which had been -done. They partook in the dumb man's joy and gratitude, and they -regarded the Saviour with increased reverence and esteem. The influence -of the miracle was to attach men to Himself, and draw them towards the -kingdom of God. But among the spectators there were some who had no -pleasure in the act of healing at all. They were not glad to see their -fellow-man in new possession of speech and soundness of mind. On the -contrary, they wished it had not been done, for they grudged the credit -it brought to the Saviour. His popularity was gall to them. It pained -them to see men revere or trust Him. They did not wish that men should -be drawn to Him. Accordingly, they attempted to turn the people's -admiration into distrust by flinging out a dark suggestion that it was -by the aid, not of God, but of the evil one, that the Lord had been able -to work the cure. The effect designed is manifest. Such a suspicion -would have the effect of turning men away from Christ, of preventing -them from submitting to His guidance. Their purpose was not to draw men -to Him, but rather to alienate from Him any who were attracted. Thus -they were in direct antagonism to Christ's purpose and striving. They -did not like Himself, nor His teaching, nor His aims, so they set -themselves to oppose Him in every way. It was of such men our Lord said, -"He that is not with Me is against Me; and he that gathereth not with Me -scattereth." - -Turning to the second story, we find that Christ's disciples had come -upon a man casting out devils in the name of their Master. It is evident -this man had not been much in direct communication with Christ, if at -all, for apparently he was not known previously to the disciples, and -their grievance is that one who did not with them follow Christ should -thus employ the Master's name. It cannot but have been, therefore, that -this man knew very little of Christ's Person or teaching. His knowledge -of Him must have been very much more imperfect than that of the -disciples, and he did not deem it his duty to become an immediate -follower of the Lord. Nevertheless, he had made the discovery that -Christ's name had power to cast out devils, and for this beneficent -purpose he was in the habit of using it. The disciples, perhaps jealous -that another, not of their number, should possess the same power, and -believing that he could not be one of the Lord's privileged servants, -forbade him to make any further use of the Saviour's name. On reporting -this to the Master He countermanded their decision and gave His grounds -for so doing. They were these: Though he did not attach himself to the -personal company of Christ, though he might be very ignorant, etc. etc., -nevertheless, by performing miracles of healing through Christ's name, -he was bringing new honour and reverence to that name; and again, while -he was thus in deed spreading Christ's fame and arousing belief in Him, -he was not likely to imitate the Pharisees in slandering the Saviour—for -in our Lord's words, "There is no man which shall do a miracle in My -name that shall be able easily to speak evil of Me." That is to say, "By -using My name to perform a miraculous cure, he puts himself out of a -position to say anything that would detract from My credit." Such an one -was certainly not a scatterer, but a gatherer. And "he that is thus not -against us is on our part." - -Reverting now to the first narrative see how the active antagonism of -the Pharisees was the inevitable outcome of the fact that inwardly they -were not with Him in heart and aim. - -Because they did not like Him, and did not desire Him to gain influence -with the people they would not unite in the general approbation of the -crowd. Such conduct was marked and demanded an explanation. Apparently a -good and wonderful miracle had been wrought. It will not do for them to -merely refrain from approving. They must justify their reticence. -Neutrality is impossible. If they will not adore they must malign. So -they are forced to impugn the character of Christ's act. To justify -their want of sympathy they must disavow its claim to their approbation. -There is no alternative between frank acceptance of the miracle or open -repudiation and disparagement of its character. - -Still you must take sides for or against Christ, and you cannot be -neutral. For His claims reach you not as external facts to be passively -gazed at, but as imperative, active demands that lay hold of you, and -insist that you shall take action upon them. You must yield or you must -resist. You must comply or you must oppose. Christ lays His hand on you -and if you will not obey you must shake that hand rudely off. In -countless forms that strange, drawing power lays hold of you, and you -must follow or reject. It may be a call to you to yield your reverence, -your support, your participation to some benevolent or religious -movement. If you will not, while others do accede to this claim, you -must seek to justify your refusal. So you are forced into disparaging -it, depreciating it, slandering it. You cannot own it to be of God and -yet remain a rebel against its demands. So you must, with evil, -malignant tongue, sneer at it as folly, or revile it as delusion—thus -imitating the Pharisees who set down Christ's work to be the doing of -the devil. - -Remember, too, what a black-hearted, hateful sin that was they were -guilty of. Try and picture that gentle, beneficent, holy Jesus. Realise -the cruel blow such a thought was to the man just healed. Surely -caution, reserve, would have made men hesitate to speak so. But they -cruelly, malignantly, eagerly cry, "By Beelzebub He casteth out devils." -It was in the face of such light, such considerate helpful words of -Christ, that they did it. Think of the gracious words He spoke, and of -the beauty of all that life, which in our days bring from the hearts of -unbelievers encomiums that sound like adoration. In spite of all that, -they were not made reverent, careful, slow to condemn. Nay, they were -exasperated by it all. - -But you may say, "They were zealous, mistaken men, wrongly trained; they -thought Christ a heretic; they were the victims of an erroneous creed. -So many had deceived them, so many false Christs had appeared! Besides, -did not Moses say that they were not to believe a miracle simply, but to -judge it by the teaching of the worker?" It is true, there were many -such. But you do not find them among the number who ascribed Christ's -works of healing to the devil. There were, indeed, honest but timid -souls who were staggered by the pretensions and claims of Christ, but -how did they act? Remember how one such came to Christ and went away -with mingled feelings of attraction and perplexity; but when the body of -Christ lay lone and forsaken Nicodemus came and did honour to the sacred -dead. But these men were not such as he; their error was not of the -intellect, but of the heart. They did not yield to the beauty of -Christ's character, life, and teaching. They were not one with Him in -His longing to establish God's kingdom on the earth. There was an inner -antagonism of spirit, of nature. They were proud, haughty, -self-righteous, and they were hypocrites, evildoers, cruel. They hated -Christ because His pure life shamed and pained them, and they dreaded -the loss of their own prestige and power. The secret and the essence and -seat of their antagonism was not intellectual error, but deep, dark, -moral perversion and evil of heart and conscience. Thus, because they -were not with Christ, even in so far as to have sympathy with the -undeniable good in Him, therefore they were in act and word against Him. - -Finally, from the second narrative see what it is to be with Christ and -how those who inwardly are not against are by His own verdict on His -side. And, first of all, note the error into which the disciples fell. -Very like the conduct of the Pharisees is theirs. They find a man doing -good in Christ's name. He is not all he should be, not one of them, and -not a constant pupil of Christ's. But instead of seeking to draw him to -more perfect light, they intolerantly forbid him to do the good he was -doing. So mistaken an action must have come from a wrongness of heart. -They, too, fell before that evil, monopolising tendency that grudges to -another God's gifts which we possess. It was a cruel thing to the man, a -harmful thing, and might have turned him from Christ. Let us take the -lesson to ourselves. Let us beware of refusing to allow good in those -who differ from us; let us beware of rashly judging those who are not -just the same as we. Harm—grave harm—is often done by treating -imperfect, immature followers of our Master as if they had neither part -nor lot with Him. But mark how this man was with Christ; only, remember, -he is not an example of what we should be, rather he is a specimen of -one just over the borderland: but over. It was not intellectual -orthodoxy; not a perfect knowledge of God's mysteries that he possessed. -He was very ignorant about God, about Christ. He did but know a little -of the power of Christ and His majestic character and stupendous work. -Yet so far as his knowledge went of Christ he had received it gladly. He -rejoiced in the power of the Saviour's name to cast out devils, to cure -the troubled ones. He did the good he knew. He acted up to his light. In -his measure he gave glory and reverence and obedience to the Saviour. He -was working for good and mercy and truth and God in the world. Thus he -was not against Christ in these his aims, and so was for the Lord. It is -only of those who are not against Christ in _this_ sense that He says -they are on His side. - -Friends, there is warning and comfort in that. Warning there is, for, -mark, that vain dream is dispelled which would read Christ's words as -meaning that if only you do not oppose Him actively you are to be -counted on His side. No! if that is your position, you are not for Him; -you must be against Him: for passivity, neutrality is impossible. - -Comfort there is, on the other hand, to you who feel yourselves very -feeble, very imperfect; to you who find it hard to understand; to you -who fear you are mistaken about many things. Ah! men may condemn you; -the disciples may dissuade you from taking His name and counting -yourself His, but do not fear. If you do, as far as you see how, strive -to do the good He has taught you; if you do, it may be afar off, follow -in His footsteps; if you have learned to find in Him in any degree a -power that helps you to cast out the evil spirits in your soul and in -the hearts of men: be sure that though you may not follow with other -disciples, though you may be very deficient, very immature, a very -unworthy servant—be sure that, nevertheless, you are not against, but -for Him, and that in the end of the days He will not forbid you to claim -His name, but will acknowledge you for His own. - - - - -XIII. - -_THE PROPHECY OF NATURE._ - -"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the -stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man, that Thou art mindful of -him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For Thou hast made him -a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and -honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy hands; -Thou hast put all things under his feet."—PSALM viii. 3-6. - -"But now we see not yet all things put under Him."—HEB. ii. 8. - - -The Eighth Psalm is a very striking one. It lifts the mind of the reader -to a lofty height where he seems to have soared above sin and sorrow. It -exults in man's greatness and Nature's grandeur. It is not Hebrew and -theocratic, but human and universal. What it says is said of man as man; -of man as he ought to be, was meant to be, may be. The subject is -Humanity. - -The New Testament writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews takes what is -said in this psalm to be true of Christ, and he thinks that he has a -right to find in the words a prophecy of Christ's coming. If you read -the psalm without thinking of what is said in the Epistle you would not -immediately apply it to Christ. How, then, is there a real connection -between this old Hebrew utterance and the coming of our Lord? - -It is a fact that the patriarchs expected the coming of some great and -wonderful blessing in the future, and it is a fact that in the coming of -Christ a gift came to men in the lines of anticipated blessing; but far -greater than they ever dreamed of. - -Reflecting on those predictions and anticipations of future blessing, -might there not be in the very structure of the world, of the material -universe itself, in the course of events as they have fallen out in -history, something to lead men to expect the advent of their Christ? God -makes His plans looking, as a wise man looks, to the end. We should -expect, then, in all the foundation-laying, that that was provided for -and expected which should be the crown of all. - -Is there not in creation an aspect of things which makes men think that -there is something great and grand in store for their race? The writer -of this psalm conceived his poem as he stood in the open fields and -looked up into the solemn sky, and watched the unhasting and untiring -motion of the shining stars—worlds upon worlds burning and throbbing in -the abyss of space. Away from the hum and tumult of men, no one can look -at those hosts of silent stars without a subdued and awed sense of the -mystery of being, of the infinite possibilities that the universe -discloses. The star-studded heaven at night makes a man irresistibly -think of God. It makes a man think, too, of himself. The silence, the -shining, the mystery and the solemnity of the starry heavens make a -man's beating, living life, as it were, become heard. A man is intensely -conscious of himself. That is exactly what passed through the heart of -this writer. It was not he who chose to have these thoughts, no more -than it is our wish to have these thoughts. God was playing upon the -strings of this man's heart—more directly, more rigorously in him, but -just as He plays upon the strings of your own when you have had great -solemn thoughts of God on a dark night, beneath the burning stars. The -man's thoughts went up, and then they went down into himself, when he -looked up into heaven, when he saw the moon and the stars, when he -realised all their wondrous being, the regularity, the order, the -vastness, the distance; then he thought of God, and God became great and -grand and majestic, and then he burst out, "O Lord, our Lord, how -excellent is Thy name in all the earth!" That is what he said. Then he -looked into himself, his own conscious life, met its failure, and his -first thought was of his own terrible pettiness. In the face of these -countless worlds revolving in the far heaven, "what is man?" And then -there came another thought to him: "And yet how great is man!" That -mighty moon, millions of times vaster than man, does not know its own -shining, its lustre, its own motions, its majesty. It is blind, and -deaf, and dumb, and insensate, and man sees it and wonders at it, -measures and weighs it, and understands its nature; and so man in all -his meanness, in all his smallness, in all his weakness, in all the -fragility of his life, is greater far than sun and moon and stars, and -all revolving worlds. How little is man—and yet how great, O God! Here -down below on earth man watches the stars, and up in heaven God watches -them too. Man thinks, God thinks; man creates, God creates; man loves, -God loves; so little, so great, and yet so like; Father and child, the -One so grand, the other so insignificant. - -Then he turned to the earth on which he stood, and with a grandeur of -soul he recognised man's position on earth sharing the likeness of God, -gifted with God's power of thought and of plan, of will and of love; man -stands lord of all lower things that have been made, king and ruler with -power to control, with mastery to move them, he is lord and master over -all their ways, uncontrolled by aught, undismayed by aught, king, god of -earth: "Thou hast made him ruler over all the works of Thy hands." - -Is it not a grand poem, that? If I could read to you the best poems -written in other lands by men of other days, by men of other faiths, if -I could compare the thoughts of this psalm with other thoughts of God's -plan and of man's position, you would understand what I mean when I say -the psalm is grand, the psalm is a revelation of man and of God. - -If I had the capacity or the time to try and show you how these thoughts -about God and about Nature and about man, give man all the dignity, all -the elevation of character, all the powers and abilities to shape and -fashion the world he is in, one could not but wonder at the grandeur of -that psalm. The faith about God, and the faith about man's destiny -written down in that psalm—that faith is the Magna Charta of humanity -that has emancipated men from the slavery to sun, moon and stars, and -all the powers of Nature. - -The psalm is a true conception of man's relation—upwards to God, and -downwards to Nature. It has been perfectly described by a German -commentator as a poetical echo of creation! A psalm, a poem, such as -this flings a spell about you. You forget actualities. It is so good, it -seems so true, it is so human, it is so living, you yield your soul to -it, you are filled with its glow and joyfulness, you are warmed with its -strength and triumph. You hail it;—and then you begin to think, you look -round, and what do you see? Mankind lord over lower things, yourself -lord over your own body, master of your appetites? Your neighbours -kings? The best of men enslaved! Bound down by the greed of gain! So -that the nobler powers of mind and body, and soul, are degraded and -cramped in them—men and women slaves of superstition, slaves of -prodigies and foolish fancies wrought into their very nature. - -"We see not yet all things put under him." If exultation was the mood -made by the picture of the psalm, depression is the mood made by the -picture of mankind; and are we to end with that? No. The writer to the -Hebrews has given us the key by which we can unlock the secret, and have -confidence in the triumph of man's better nature, and hope for a better -future. - -Let us look a little deeper into things, let us do men justice. Has man -ever acquiesced in his sinful, sorrowful slavery? Never. It is always -under protest that he regards it. It is always with a sense of fallen -greatness. It is always with discontent. It is always with an -unconquerable conviction that man was made for something better. Proof, -do you want? Why is it when you read a story of heroic generosity, like -that of the captain who gave away his own life for that of a wretched -boy the other day, that you feel life to be worth living? What is the -meaning of that sense of grandeur, of greatness, of triumph, that comes -over you? How is it? What is it? When you see a brave deed of -self-denial; at another time, when we hear of a cruel, mean deed -done—how do we feel towards each? Are we all bad? If that were our -natural lot we should acquiesce in the evil deed, we should have no -shock, no surprise; instead of that there is a sense of surprise, and -revolt. There is an error somewhere—a disaster, a calamity. It is a -sin—sin—a thing that robs us of our heavenly nature. Do we recognise it -as a part of human nature? No. Sin is unnatural, sin is horrible. That -is the meaning of the death scene in Macbeth. A knock at the door -reveals to the murderer the distance his crime has set between him and -the simple ordinary life of man. Sin is something unnatural, it is a -calamity, an intrusion, it ought not to be there. Fellowship with God! -Impossible to us! Why? Because we were never meant to have it? No. If -there be a God at all, if He made this world, if He made men to think, -and feel and understand, then God meant the world to be like a written -book that should speak of Him. Why does not all Nature so speak to man? -Because we have sinned, because we have lost the lineage, because we are -not like Christ, the sinless Son: to Him the lilies had the touch of God -on them, the birds in every song proclaimed His praise. - -So, then, while we see that all things are not put under man, we see -plainly that God meant it otherwise, and that God made man to be lord of -creation. What God does not wish is hardly likely to stand. If man has -missed being what he was meant for, there is good possibility that he -may regain it. If God be love, there is certainty. I enter a -master-painter's studio, and I see upon his easel a spoiled picture. I -can see the majesty of the design, the beauty of the ideal, but from -some defect in the pigment or flaw in the canvas, it has gone wrong; it -is blurred and dim and spoiled. But not so to himself; that man will not -allow the disaster to prevent him creating in visible form the vision of -beauty that once charmed his heart. The man would not be a man of will -and determination if he allowed the disaster to hinder him in his -purpose. God is unchangeable. God is God. - -Man is not what God made him for; man is not what God made him to be; -and God is God. His purpose may lapse for a little, His designs may be -delayed on the way, but if the beginning points to the grand end, that -end will be reached. God meant it. God means it. God shall do it. - -We stand farther on along the track of God's providential dealings with -men. We see more than the writer to the Hebrews saw. He, too, remembered -that psalm when he described man as he ought to be. Why did he still let -it live and exist as a thing that is true? He could wait. What was he -waiting for? And what were the singers thinking of as they chanted that -psalm? They thought of a good time coming, they thought not the less of -the disaster, they thought of God redeeming men, of God causing a Man to -be born who should be a Deliverer, they thought of Him reaching out -hands of help to all who came to Him, and the writer to the Hebrews -writes truly when he says that that is prophesied of Christ. It is a -prediction of His coming. God cannot be foiled. Man is not yet what God -created him to be, the crown of all the earth-creation, but in the -divine heart and mind there has been that vision—man wanting but little -of exaltation to be next to God—man the lord of all—and the writer to -the Hebrews was able to say, "God has achieved it; in Christ, crowned -King and Lord of all creation, the psalm is fulfilled." - -What depth of meaning and of wonder, of future joy and triumph, there is -in that feeling he has of Christ as the Flower and Fruit of God's design -in all creation! What depth of meaning there may be I do not dare to -fathom, of good to all mankind; but this I will think,—that in the end -of time when all things have been summed up and restored in Jesus -Christ, when God shall have gathered together in one the broken threads, -when the whole creation that with man groaneth until now, shall be -delivered from its bondage—God will be seen not to have failed. What -future revelation of grandeur, and of Divine goodness, and of redemption -beyond our utmost thoughts, there may be, I do not think we were meant -to know. I do not think we should dare to dogmatise; but we were meant -to have our eyes drawn away to that glorious, radiant, splendrous -future, and we are bidden there to see all God's loving pity and wise -provision for us. Ah! God is working; He is creating, loving; He is -providing, planning; He is redeeming creation, gathering together into -one grand whole a restored humanity and a ransomed creation; and all -mysteriously and strangely wrought into a great unity with Christ, and -through Christ, with God. - - - - -XIV. - -_CHRISTIAN GIVING._ - -PREACHED IN WILLESDEN PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, SEPTEMBER 24TH, 1882. - -"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting -of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to -God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. -Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always -abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour -is not in vain in the Lord."—1 COR. xv. 55-8. - -"Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to -the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week -let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, -that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, whomsoever ye -shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your liberality -unto Jerusalem."—1 COR. xvi. 1-3. - - -I have read this passage for one single purpose; it is to draw your -attention to the singular way in which St. Paul passes from the doctrine -of the Resurrection to the practical duty of Christian giving. It almost -startles us, who have not quite St. Paul's way of thinking about -collections, to hear him pass from that triumphant apostrophe of death, -"O death, where is thy sting?" to "Now concerning the collection." - -This seeming incongruity in the Epistle, and in the Church's work, is -not confined to the Bible or to the Church; it runs all through life. -Man has a poor, fleshly body, needing food, and drink, and sleep, and -nursing; and he has an immortal soul. Say what you will, we cannot deny -that the body is there; and I do not think we shall ever come to deny -that the soul is there too, and will live, so long as goodness, -tenderness, and devotion, and truth, and being last. Life has got into -it; and the material framework which carries that soul-man's life -corresponds to himself. In our homes, in our national life, in our -business life there is the strangest intermingling of tragedy and -comedy, of what is reverent and sacred, and what is most secular, and -common, and mean. You cannot divorce the two. You may dislike the -commonplace, and the mean, and the material; but if you hope to preserve -the region of the spiritual and the sympathy of the good, that you can -only do by preserving the body; they are gone when you forget the body. - -What is it that is the brightest, heavenliest thing in the whole earth? -It is love. No amount of mere common propriety, in the humblest action, -will make up for the absence of that which comes out in a sudden tear or -looks out in a sweet smile. We all know it, however earthly and material -we are. But what I have to say is this: Look at that sacred thing, that -love, which is almost too refined to put its hands on the soiling things -of earth; what do you find it doing? Nursing at the sick bed, doing -tasks that are repulsive, planning, with all kinds of material -medicaments, and helps, and reliefs, to ease bodily pain. Now, it is -easily possible for a coarse heart and poor bodily eyes to be in the -midst of all that is sacred, and secular too, and to call it all common, -and poor, and mean. It needs a quick, warm heart, and it needs almost, I -may say, some imagination, some touch of a fine fancy, something of that -Divine power which comes of tender affection and love, to do such acts -for God. - -In the life of Christ's spiritual family, which we call "the Church" -(and by calling it "the Church" so often put it clean away out of all -control of common sense and of affection), the very same law holds. The -Church is worth nothing if it is not lit up and warmed with heavenly -devotion to Jesus Christ. It may look solemn at the Communion-table; but -it is not worth having if it does not reach men's hearts with fingers -which squeeze out their hardness, and make them penitent for their sins; -it is not worth having if it has not God, and Christ, and the life of -the soul all throbbing through it. And yet it has a body, and material -buildings, and expenses to maintain its earthly fabric and framework; -and the spiritual life and the spiritual love that will have nought to -do with these "cares of all the Churches," which Paul, the greatest -preacher and Apostle, carried, or with collections and planning for the -maintenance of preachers, thereby destroy themselves. If we try to put -away that, and say, "It is not spiritual," or "It is a low thing," we -are simply committing suicide of the religious life. It cannot live -without that. Christ Himself had to plan how His preachers were to be -maintained; and He spoke a great word when He said that they were to go -and live on those who could not preach; not taking it as -charity—never!—but taking it as a helpful service, which, combined with -their searching of the Divine Word, should make it triumph in the world. -"He that receiveth" into his house—maintaining him, that he may -preach—"a preacher" (that is the meaning of "a prophet"), "in the name -of a preacher"—not because he brings honour to the house, and because he -is a great man, but because he is a man who is converting souls, a man -that takes God at His word, and prays, and preaches unto men—will have -the same "reward" in heaven, Christ providing for the spiritual wants -and for the bodily wants of the preacher, and for his maintenance. And -so, if once we lived in good earnest into that real, loving, great, -broad thought of the actual life of Christ, we should not feel any -surprise when we read how St. Paul passes from the great triumph of the -doctrine of the Resurrection to the enforcement of Christian liberality. - -Now I am going to spend the time at my disposal this morning in a very -practical way. I hardly think that it needed that introduction to -justify this use of the time at a Sunday morning's service; still, -possibly, what has been said may be of use, not so much as a -justification, but just as a preparation. I think that these things are -for you. The subject is not a mere question of Church business; it is -not a mere question, either, of interest to the men whose minds have a -little of the statesman in them, and who consider the problems of Church -government and Church management, as well as of national government and -management; but I will say that it is a subject which ought to have a -thorough interest to every one of you. I have been led to take it as my -subject this morning because I was sent, a fortnight ago, by our Synod, -as a deputy to one of our largest Presbyteries in the North, in order -that I might interest congregations there in our Church's financial -system of maintaining the preaching of the Gospel throughout this -country; and I had the feeling, when I was doing it, and I had the -assurance from those whom I visited, that it did them good. I have -thought, therefore, that it might do my people good. Moreover, I had -this feeling about the very strong and plain things that I said to them, -that I should hardly be an honest man if I did not care openly to say -the same things to my own people. Nay, I was led in some things to speak -of my congregation, and what they had done not only for their minister, -but for all the schemes of the Church, as an example; and therefore I -feel my honour somewhat pledged that our congregation should not only do -well, as it has done, but should do better. I say these things that I -may have your sympathy in what I am going on to explain and to say to -you. - -The special subject, in our Church's government and economy, of which I -want to make you understand a little is what is called the "Sustentation -Fund." I wish to be short and to be simple. Let me begin in this -fashion: We believe that wherever there are Christian congregations who -have the love of their Master in them, and some spiritual life, all -these are blessed spots and centres, wherever they stand. We know how -sorrows are soothed away by that Christian brotherhood and friendship, -by those common prayers and praises, and by those words of truth which -are read out of the Bible and often spoken by preachers. We believe -that, or we do not believe in Christ at all. That is how Christ comes to -men and women, and boys and girls, and little children, on earth. Oh, He -does nothing for them like that! Well, now, it is a very practical -question, that comes to all Christian men and women who are gathered -together into any section of Christ's Church, how they can make their -ministers, and their managers, and their elders, and their deacons, and -their office-bearers (by whatever name you call them), and all their -members, most useful and effective for good. It is the first question -that their Master puts to them. He says, "Do your best." It is the duty -of every Church in England just now to do everything in its power, by -business methods as well as by spiritual methods, to make every -congregation have a happy, harmonious, earnest, liberal, joyful, -successful Christian life. - -Now I will say this: It seems to me that the good which will be done by -any denomination in England just now depends, of course first of all on -its possession of the living Spirit and heart of Jesus Christ in its -members; but that is not my subject to-day; I am talking of the material -side, the body surrounding the soul; I say, the good which will be done -by any Church in England will depend upon three things: first of all, -that it shall have devised a government which will exercise -power—superior control—over individual members, office-bearers, -ministers, congregations; which will preserve a harmonious, law-abiding, -just, and generous spirit and conduct between them all; not leaving it -to two individuals in the Church, or some individual member, to fight -the thing out, if a disagreement arises, without asking, before an -impartial tribunal, which party is right, and each of them being willing -to take the right. I say that a government which, without the evils of -undue centralization, without crushing individual freedom, and liberty, -and enterprise, will combine all congregations into one strong, united -body, powerful to do Foreign Mission work and Home Mission work, -cemented together so that the strong carry the weak when they are -overtaken by sickness or disaster—and the strong get the blessing when -doing work like that—a government the likest to that is a government -which will make the most useful and the most spiritual and successful -Church in our England. I say that I have watched the progress of things -in these times of profound interest, and it seems to me that men are -looking at one another in the Churches for what is good and desirable. -That I believe to be our attitude in watching other Churches, and to be -the attitude of other Churches in watching us. I look forward to a -powerful, happy future in consequence. - -The second thing which seems to me to be a great spring of a Church's -usefulness in this modern England is the earnestness and success with -which it devises methods of instructing its young people; not merely -winning their affections for Christ, but giving them a reason for the -faith that is in them; not merely teaching them that there is a Saviour -to protect them at the Judgment, but giving them the life and thoughts -of Christ, and that knowledge which shall cause them to grow into the -perfect manhood of Christ. I say, the Church that most successfully and -thoroughly, from the children in the Sunday-school and in the -Bible-classes to those under higher systems of instruction, carries -forward a knowledge of the Bible, and of God's ways with man, and of -human nature in its religious aspects, to its young people, will be the -greatest blessing in England; and once again I see that all the Churches -are awake to it. - -And the third thing is this (not by any means that there are not other -things, which are perhaps just as important, but these three stand out -prominent on account of the state of men's minds in England just now): -the Church that can devise a method which will fill its pulpits with men -who are not merely earnest converted men, loyal to Jesus Christ, but men -abreast of the intelligence and thought of the times, men who have a -calm reliance in their own faith by having looked all difficulties in -the face, men who have something of the self-control and the large -thoughts that come with culture; men who will be, not despised, but -respected by the people that come to listen to them, and with whom they -come in contact in the sorrows and trials of life—the Church that can -best fill its pulpits with such preachers, and put such pastors into its -congregations, will do the best work in England. And, mark you, it is -not merely a question of denominational success; God forbid that I -should care for that; but that Church is best fulfilling its Master's -command, best doing its Master's work, most contributing to the -realisation of that time when Christ shall be King of men. - -I now come to the particular part of our Church's method of government -and order which I have chosen for explanation to you to-day. We aim at -having all our ministers men who, with great differences of original -natural ability, have at least had all the thorough discipline and -culture that training can give them. Our ministers have all passed -through a high school course, a University course, and a course of study -at a theological hall. Now, all that means a period of education of -something like at least twelve years. We aim at having men who have -ability, men who will be able to bear themselves, in all the relations -of life, with dignity. We aim at having men worthy to speak in Christ's -name. It is a worthy aim. Well, now, how are you to have such men? By -praying for them; by planning thoroughly disciplined study for them; by -seeking them out in families, and persuading and inducing them to give -themselves to the work of preaching Christ's Gospel, and keeping alive -spiritual love and truth in people's hearts. It is a worthy object. But -I will be very plain: the Church's hands are largely tied by a very -mean, material fact; it is the question of the salary which is attached -to that office. If it be a wretched pittance, then it is a simple matter -of fact that you will not get men who are capable of taking a position -in the Christian world with dignity and efficiency to devote themselves -to the work of preachers. Why should they? You say, "Why should a -mercenary motive act?" Very good; why should it? But it does. But why -should it not? Sometimes it is said, "You must not make the ministry a -bribe by the largeness of its emoluments." Does it cease to be a bribe -when its emoluments are a pittance? You only lower the level of -temptation to an inferior grade of men, as well as where nothing is paid -at all. God meant that men should be tempted, and you cannot get rid of -it; they must battle with it and withstand it. But how does the thing -work? I do not think that many men of much ability will be tempted, at -least till the Millennium comes, by the emoluments of preaching, however -good they come to be. I, for my part, should regret if it ever became a -temptation to the highest ability—a money temptation, I mean. But what I -have to say is this: I am talking of a thoroughly adequate -maintenance—not of _payment_. The kind of service that is done by a man -who saves a human being from sin and hell is a service which cannot be -_paid_. That man can only be maintained to do that work; there is no -money equivalent to such a service. Partly the same thing is true of a -medical man's service; he saves a life. Why, if you paid him the -commercial value of his service you must give him your fortune; he saves -your _life_. There are some things which cannot be paid for. You cannot -pay for the love of wife and children. The sweetest things cannot be -paid for; you can only show your appreciation of them by a worthy -maintenance; it would be a pity to talk of paying for them. - -Now, suppose that the maintenance awarded to ministers, to preachers, be -so small that they cannot live and bring up their children as men of -such culture and such ability are made by God to require that they -should be able to do; what is the effect of it? You often break that -man's heart; you embitter it; he would be more than human if you did -not. To go about begging for wife and child! That is the result; and it -is not the result of mere disaster, but of stinginess and meanness in -Christian England. I will tell you how it works. Where shall we get -young men with brains, with talent, with ability, that they may give -themselves to a life which is not thought to be worth a decent -maintenance by Christian people? Look at it. Here is a young man, a -member of some country Church; God has moved his heart, and made him -wish to do all the good he can in the world. He has a feeling that he -could do more if he were a minister. He would like to be one. He knows -himself to possess powers to rise in the world and take a position of -eminence, a position of dignity, and to do good in that fashion. Here is -this youth with a warm heart, who wishes to be a minister. But I will -suppose that the minister of his congregation has had some wretched -pittance to live on, has been worn out with the cares of just making -ends meet, has often been behindhand, has been talked of as such, and -more than talked of, even by kind-hearted Christian men and women, with -something of pity, and something of concern; and this youth says to -himself, "That is the life of a preacher." He would be more than human -if he thought it right and wise to choose it. And what of his father and -mother—will they encourage him to do so? They would not be parents if -they did. They will tell him, "Do not you suppose that there is anything -so excellent, or dignified, or worthy, in a minister's work." Ah, you -may say that it is a mercenary thing! True; but where does the -mercenariness begin? who brings it in? After all, men will go by reason, -and they will estimate what are the worth and dignity of the career of a -preacher of the Gospel by what Christian men and women set them down at -in pounds, shillings, and pence. That is reason. - -I have said these things strongly; I have said them very strongly here, -because, though I dislike to speak of things concerning ourselves, I am -bound to say frankly that you to your minister have always acted with -rare liberality and generosity, beyond what sometimes I have thought was -proportionate. You will perfectly understand, then, that in what I speak -it is not to reproach you; far from it; it is to interest you, and make -you feel the importance of this question. - -Since I came to be myself a teacher of theological students, and to take -a pride in my students, and to seek that they should be able ministers, -I have come to feel how my hands are hampered and crippled, and that the -best men are kept out by such poor, mean drawbacks as these. You will -understand me. - -I now come to explain more fully the working of the particular method -adopted by our Church to maintain an honourable, able, dignified -Christian ministry: We call it the "Sustentation Fund." The immediate -aim is this, to gather together the strength and liberality of rich -congregations, and distribute them in districts where they are poorer. -In that way the poorer congregations are able to give a more handsome -maintenance to their ministers. In that way, instead of the Church -having men of parts, and culture, and dignity in the wealthier charges -only, it has men of at least fair eminence, and dignity, and ability in -all its branches; and that is an immense advantage. If it is a bane to -society to have too great extremes of wealth and poverty, it is the same -with the Church. If any Church is bound to avoid it, it is _our_ Church; -for one of the central principles of our Church is that its ministers -and office-bearers should all sit as equals in a deliberative assembly, -and that none should be able to make their will press upon others. If -you have one set of ministers begging for doles from other and richer -ministers, what have you? You have destroyed the Church as a -brotherhood, as a family. Now I have given you in that a reason why we -endeavour to distribute the generous strength of the richer among the -poorer congregations by the Sustentation Fund. Another method would be -by an Augmentation Fund, by which wealthier congregations would dole out -money to poorer congregations. That is not our system; our system is -this: Every congregation is asked to give, "as God has prospered them," -to a fund which we prefer to call by our old Scotch term, a -"Sustentation" Fund; they have to give all that it is in their hearts to -give to that fund, and they send it up to a central committee, charged -with the duty of distributing it. The whole amount is divided by the -number of the ministers, and an equal share is sent to each. Note how -that works. It does not preclude the wealthier congregations from adding -a supplement, as it is called—adding as much as they like to the income -of their own minister. It would be unreasonable that a man should not -give more to the minister to whose ministrations he has attached -himself, and who has drawn out his sympathies; and therefore no such -liberality is asked to this fund, which goes among all the ministers. - -Again, the weaker congregations are urged to contribute a sum which is -equal to their common share; but if they come short the deficiency is -made up by the surplus from the other Churches. For instance, suppose -the distributed sum is £200, and one congregation sends £230. Of that -sum £200 comes back, £30 remains, and goes probably to some congregation -in Northumberland who have only sent up £170. - -Now, I have no time to go into details, or to talk about objections, -technical objections, and so on; but just let me show you very briefly -some of the advantages of this way of working. I have spoken about the -sentiment of the thing. Ministers, like men, have feelings. The poorer -ministers prefer to get their larger stipend in that fashion, rather -than getting the money as a dole. That point has to be considered; and -when you remember how great a part feeling plays in all our life you -will not disregard such a thing, even if it is only sentiment. But look -at the thing practically. It may be said, "What is the use of sending up -the whole amount? What good is there in a congregation sending up £230, -and getting £200 back? What good is there in a congregation sending up -£170, and getting £200 instead? Cannot you just as well send the £30?" -If you did that it would become a Dole Fund; it would not be a -Sustentation Fund. Then is it a mere difference of arrangement or -sentiment? Not a bit of it. I will show you how the thing works -practically. It is one of those secondary sorts of advantage which -generally go, more than anything else, to prove a principal good. I -suppose that, if you have ever thought of it, you are not surprised to -find that Church business is constantly done in a most slovenly way. I -suppose you are aware that even down in the City there are many offices -where things are done in a slovenly, hap-hazard fashion. If that is so -in business, and parish matters too, it is worse in Church matters; for -even Church people seem to think that Church business need not be done -with the same method and regularity as that with which secular matters -should be done. Now, that is especially the case in country -congregations, and the bearing of it upon finances is that moneys are -not collected as they should be; they are not asked for, and are lying -out when they ought to come in. A man who can give a shilling a month -cannot get up twelve shillings at the end of the twelve months. All of -you who are business men know what an immense advantage it is to -business to have the whole of the book-keeping, and everything, done in -an efficient manner. I saw, in this visitation of mine, congregations -that had not connected themselves with this Sustentation Fund whose -business affairs were in a shameful condition. It meant that the -minister did not get his salary; it did not come in at the time; not -that the money would not be given the moment it was applied for, but the -treasurer was careless about it, and never thought of it. You can see -the foolishness of such a position, and what a bad thing it is for the -Church. What do they care about giving, when the thing is done in that -careless fashion? Now, the Sustentation Fund means that the whole money -collected for the minister's maintenance goes up to London; and the -country people down in Northumberland try not to disgrace themselves in -the eyes of the central officers in London, and the central officers in -London have no hesitation in giving them a reminder. The advantage is -the same as it is to a business house every year to have all its books -and business pass through the hands of an accountant. It makes a man -careful; things do not fall behind. This mode of working brings -regularity and punctuality, not merely into the Sustentation Fund, but -into the whole of the funds of all our charges. Well, but you may say, -"What is the use of aid-giving congregations sending up their £200?" -They do it, who do not need it, to get the others, who do need it, to do -it too. - -I have shown you what a very practical thing the Sustentation Fund is. I -am now going to mention an advantage which requires little more of -Church statesmanship to appreciate it. It is not the minister, but the -congregation, who gets the greatest benefit; I will tell you how. -Ministers do not like to go to congregations where they are kept in -arrears, and where they do not get that proper maintenance which they -should, just through carelessness, or where they have to ask the -treasurer for money. To revert to the commercial illustration, you would -not go as partner into a firm where all the books were carelessly kept, -and everything was in a slovenly, negligent condition. And the -congregation that has its whole business arrangements and financial -affairs completely regular and punctual stands in a much better position -when it has to seek a minister than one that has not; it will get a -better man. That is a very real consideration. - -Once more, the system of the Sustentation Fund acts in such a fashion -that does not allow congregations to impose on it. The Committee of the -Sustentation Fund say this: "We fix with the poorer congregation how -much of the money it shall send up, and we undertake that it shall share -with the richer congregations so long as it does its duty." If they find -that it is imposing on them, then they act very sharply; but if there is -some local disaster, the loss of a wealthy member, or some sweeping -misfortune, the Sustentation Fund will do what a family does for a sick -child; it will nurse the sick child till it is strong again, and will -not let it die out. - -Once again, look how this system improves the position of the -congregation (to use a commercial phrase) in the ministerial market. See -what the Sustentation Fund amounts to. You know how the credit of a weak -State is improved when a powerful State backs it up; it can borrow at a -lower rate of interest. Any man, or any firm, whose business is -punctually done, and whose books are properly kept, can get money from a -banker much more readily than one who has the reputation of being -slovenly. And the system of the Sustentation Fund improves the character -of a congregation; it gives the shield of the whole Church to an -individual congregation; it says that disaster shall not depress it; it -carries such a congregation through a time of difficulty. A minister has -more heart to go to a weak charge, to a congregation exposed to such -disasters, when that congregation has its credit backed by the general -credit of the whole Church. That is a businesslike and statesmanlike -consideration, and it is a very real one. - -There are a great many other things which I could tell you. Let me -mention one fact to show what our Sustentation Fund has already done. It -has always been weak hitherto, and there has been a great deal of -opposition to it, and there have been a great many difficulties in -introducing it. It has not been able to do what it would do if it were -strong; but I will tell you what it has done already. In Northumberland, -where our Churches get the best members and Church officers—young men -brought up properly—young women brought up with prayers morning and -evening—Churches with full light in them, but very poor—in these -Northumberland Churches the annual ministerial stipend has in many cases -been nearly doubled. Of course you may say that many ministers are not -worth even £200 a year. That is true; but if they are not worth £200 a -year they are not worth anything; it is better to have them out. It is -not a question of degree or amount, but the question is, Is the man -doing a minister's work in an honest way? If he is, it is not fair that -he should have to struggle on upon such a pittance as many of the -ministers have been receiving. Well, now, I will tell you what the -Sustentation Fund has done. With the exception of two or three charges -that have to be nursed by the Home Mission Fund, and put, as it were, on -the child platform, this Sustentation Fund has given to every one of our -ministers an annual income of £200; and what has it proved? That our -giving it has brought before the congregations the duty of supporting -their ministers as has never been done before. It has taught them to be -more liberal in maintaining their ministers; it has induced them in that -way to be more generous and liberal themselves. - -Now I have left myself no time for some more spiritual thoughts with -which I wanted to end. I do not think that it much matters, if you -remember how the spiritual lives on the practical material working of -Church organisation; but I just want to say this (I wish I could feel it -for myself, and I do wish that our members could feel it), that there is -a great risk of well-to-do congregations unconsciously growing very -selfish, and being shut up in themselves. That position brings a curse -with it if it brings a blight in the heart, and if we come to Christ -just to get our souls saved, and then selfishly congratulate ourselves -upon that. Christ wants a great, loving heart, panting to do good to -every one, and to save him from sin. He says, "Do not be satisfied with -just coming to say your own prayers, and sing your praises, and get your -sorrows comforted, and have your joys brightened, by belonging to a -congregation; but think of all the great Church everywhere, and whether -you might not do something for it." I think that God gathers us into -congregations just for the same reason that He gathers us into families. -Our love is too weak to be left spread out—it would die altogether; it -would be chill and cold as the world—and so he shuts it in, and bids a -man love wife and child with family affection; and so he nurses that -love, and makes it profound. What is it that causes the love of father -and mother to be so strong and tender? Is it not that there are such -endless demands upon them for giving their money, and time, and prayers? -It is God's greatest gift. But sometimes I see men and women misuse it, -and make gigantic walls, and turn them into prison walls, and they do -not care for any human being outside their little circle. It becomes a -blight and a curse to them. Our Church is strong now in England under -the Presbyterian system, while others are isolated. There is a real -danger that our hearts will be dried up and narrowed; and I put it to -you that here is one means of counteracting it, by giving with a warm -heart, thinking of the manses away in the North, and the ministers' -homes, that will be made happier and better by the liberality of those -whom God has prospered. The Church that shows most liberality and -loyalty to others is the Church that will have most love and loyalty to -the Master. - - - - -XV. - -_OUR LORD'S TREATMENT OF ERRING FRIENDS._ - -SUNDAY READINGS. - - -I. - -Read Ps. cxxxviii., and John xiii. 1-17. - -THE SELF-ASSERTING.—John xiii. 4, 5. - -On the evening before He died, Jesus washed the disciples' feet. This -touching action of our Lord is constantly taken and turned into a -picture of spiritual truths, and it is a very fair use to make of the -story. No wonder if there is ever an overflowing surplus of meaning in -all the things that Jesus said and did. But we must not forget that -their symbolic use is a matter of secondary moment, and we must take -care, first and chiefly, to recognise in our Lord's words and deeds that -simple, direct meaning which He intended them to have. In the present -case He has Himself told us why He did this strange and beautiful act of -self-abasement to His faulty followers, and what effect the memory of -His great humility ought to have on our hearts and characters, if we -would be like Him, divinely wise and good in our treatment of erring -friends. - -In the country where Jesus lived the roads were hot and dusty, and the -people wore sandals that left the upper part of the foot exposed. In the -course of even a short journey the skin became covered with an -irritating kind of sand. Therefore, on the arrival of a visitor, it was -the first duty of hospitality to offer water to wash and cool the weary -feet. When a feast was made the guests, as they entered, would lay aside -their sandals, and take their places on the couches that surrounded the -table. Then the humblest servant of the house was wont to come with -basin, towel, and pitcher of water, to kneel behind each couch, to pour -the water over the projecting feet, to wash them clean and free from -stain, and to wipe them gently dry. It was a comfortable and kindly -custom, and we know, from the anecdote of Simon the Pharisee, that our -Lord missed it when it was omitted, and gratefully welcomed it when it -was observed. - -This night Jesus and His disciples are gathered for supper in the upper -room of a strange house in Jerusalem. The room has been lent for the -occasion, and so there is no servant in attendance on them. In such -circumstances it had been customary among the little company for one of -their number, ere the meal began, to do this needful service for the -rest. In a corner of the room stood the pitcher and basin, with the -towel folded by their side. They had all taken their places round the -table, and the time to commence supper had come (so read verse 2). But -this night—the last of their Master's life on earth—none rose to wash -their feet, none stirred to perform that friendly office. One and all, -they kept their places in painful and embarrassed silence. Their refusal -of the lowly but accustomed task was due to an unwonted access of pride -and self-assertion in their hearts. That very day, in the way, there had -been a fierce contention among the disciples as to which of them was -greatest. The dispute reached the Master's ear, and he firmly rebuked -their rivalry and quelled the quarrel. The storm of passion was silenced -on their lips, but the sullen surge of anger had not quite died out of -their hearts. Not yet would it be easy for any one of them to forget his -dignity, and do a humbling service to the rest. And so it came to pass -on that solemn evening, when their Master's heart was so soft and -tender, their hearts were hard with pride and anger, and though they -felt the painfulness of the pause and the wrongfulness of their -obstinacy, not one of them had the manliness to rise and end it, and by -humbling himself make peace and harmony in their hearts. - -The consciousness of discord entered the holy heart of Jesus and pierced -it. His soul was filled that night with love unspeakable, and He longed -to pour out to His friends the joy and the pain of His mighty purpose. -But that could not be while their breasts were possessed by petty -rivalries, and mean thoughts, and angry feelings. He must first shame -away their pride, and melt their hardness, and make them gentle, lowly, -and loving. How can He do this most quickly and completely? "He riseth -from supper, and laid aside His garments; and took a towel, and girded -Himself. After that He poureth water into a basin, and began to wash the -disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith He was -girded." Who is not able to picture the scene—the faces of John, and -James, and Peter; the intense silence, in which each movement of Jesus -was painfully audible; the furtive watching of Him, as He rose, to see -what He would do; the sudden pang of self-reproach as they perceived -what it meant; the bitter humiliation and the burning shame! The way -John recites each detail tells how that scene had scorched itself on his -soul and become an indelible memory. Truly his Master had "given him an -example." To his dying day John could see that sight, and many a time in -the hour of temptation it crossed his path and made him a better man. -May that same vision of our Lord's great humility rise before our eyes, -when life is full of pride and rivalry, and our hearts are hot and -angry; and may its sweet influence come on our spirits like cool, pure -water, to wash these evil passions out, and to make us good and gentle, -like Jesus! - - -II. - -Read Job xvi., and Matt. xxvi. 31-46. - -THE UNSYMPATHETIC.—John xiii. 1-3. - -The preface to the narrative of the feet-washing is long and involved. -The ideas move in a lofty sphere, seemingly very remote from the simple -scene they prelude. At first sight the reader is tempted to count the -introduction cumbrous, and to question the relevancy. A more profound -appreciation of its contents and connection changes questioning into -admiration, and transforms perplexity into wondering delight. We -perceive how the thoughts of the prelude light up the whole scene with a -golden glow of human tenderness and Divine grandeur, so that, like a -picture set in its true light, we now discern in it a depth of meaning -and a wealth of beauty previously unsuspected. The perplexing preface -proves to be the vestibule that leads into the innermost shrine of the -temple. - -The Gospel of St. John was not written till half a century later than -the events it records; yet it is written as though it were but yesterday -the Apostle had witnessed the scenes he describes. Those recollections -had not been casual visitants, but constant inmates of his mind and -heart. There was hardly ever a day he had not thought about them. At -night when he lay awake and could not sleep he had thought about them. -He conned them over in memory, he pored over them in his mind, he -cherished them in his heart lovingly. And the promise his Lord had given -came true to him, for the Holy Spirit took of these things of Christ, -and showed them unto him, so that they grew to his eyes better and -better, and more beautiful, and more full of meaning, till their inmost -heart of Divine goodness was revealed to him. Ah! when we first get to -know Christ it is but His face, His eyes, His outer form we see. That is -a great sight! But to see and know all the heart of God that was in -Him—that takes a very long time; it takes half a century; it takes -eternity to get at that! John lived in that high quest almost all his -life, gazing at the Master, worshipping and adoring, laying his heart on -the Master's heart; and the result was that he got to know Jesus far -better than he did when he lived with Him. Hence it is that the fourth -Gospel is so different from the other three. They just tell us what -Jesus said and what Jesus did. But John's Gospel mixes up the acts and -words of Jesus with John's own thoughts and explanations, so that it is -sometimes hardly possible to tell whether we are reading what Jesus said -or what John thought about it. He is ever passing behind the loveliness -of the human life, to trace its explanation in the inner heavenly -nature. He paints for us the tree with its beauteous branches, leaves, -and blossoms, and then he bids us behold the great root in God's earth -out of which it grew; that wonderful root, which is Divine, and which is -the source of all the sweetness that is brightening the upper air. The -Jesus of John's Gospel has more of God in the look of face and eyes, and -in the ring of His voice, than the Jesus of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. It -is the Jesus that lived and grew on in John's loving memory, year by -year becoming greater, holier, Diviner in the illumination of the Holy -Spirit, that was brooding over that home of Christ in the heart of John. -It is, indeed, Jesus coloured by John's thoughts and John's feelings; -but then they are true thoughts and true feelings. And so it is that -sometimes, in the evangel of the Beloved Disciple, we almost lose sight -of the outer form and familiar features of our Lord, but only that we -may see more clearly the glory of His inner nature and the beauty of His -heart Divine. - -It is to this loving industry of John's mind that we owe the preface of -our story, so laden with great thoughts. It bids us, before we scan the -picture of our Lord's humility, gaze into His heart, and see how that -night it was filled with contending emotions of exaltation and agony, of -tenderest devotion and unrequited love, and then, in the light of His -inner grandeur, grief, and forlornness, measure the marvel of this -wondrous act of self-abasement. He who washed the feet of those sinful -men was the Son of God and the world's Saviour. He made Himself their -servant! He washed their feet! But more than that, He was a dying man -that night, and He knew it. His hour was come. Already the presaging -pangs of the bloody sweat, of the scourging and the spitting, of the -anguish and forsakeness of the cross, had broken like stormy waves of a -troubled sea on Christ's sensitive spirit. The pain, and the parting, -and the solemn awe of death had fallen upon His soul. He was going to -bid good-bye to the faces He had loved, to the things that were so -beautiful in His eyes, to the lilies and the birds, to those He had -clung to on earth, to mother, and brother, and friend, to all that was -sweet and dear to His human heart. His thoughts were preoccupied that -night. He was preparing Himself for death. His heart was already getting -detached from earth. Oh, if ever there was an hour when He might have -been forgiven, if He had had no thought but of Himself, it was that -night! If ever He might have held Himself exempt from thinking of -others, and expected them to think of Him, it was that night. If ever -there was an hour when He might have counted selfishness unforgivable, -and bitterly resented want of sympathy, it was that night, when His -grief was so great and His love so warm and tender. And yet, says John, -it was on that night that amongst us all, engrossed in our petty, -selfish rivalry, He was the one that could forget Himself, could lay -pride aside, and humble His heart, and do the lowly act that made peace -amongst us, and melted all our pride away, and made us good, and loving, -and fit to hear the wondrous thoughts of grace and love that were -glowing in His heart for us and for all mankind. - -The lesson is one for good men and women. They are too apt to think, -because they have set out on some great enterprise of goodness, that -therefore they are exempt from the little courtesies and forbearances of -lowlier service. They mean to do good, but they must do it with a high -hand and in a masterful fashion. They cannot stoop to conciliate the -lukewarm and to win the unsympathetic. And so too often their cherished -purpose ends in failure, and we see that saddest sight in Christ's -Church—beautiful lives marred and noble service spoiled, because the -sacrifice is not complete enough, because pride lingers in the heart, -and self-assertion and selfishness. We cannot be faithful in that which -is greatest unless we are willing to be faithful also that in which is -least. - - -III. - -Read 2 Sam. xxiv., and John xxi. 15-23. - -THE WILFUL.—John xiii. 6-10. - -The character of Peter stands clear cut in the Gospels. He had a warm -heart, an eager mind, an impulsive will, a quick initiative, and a -native aptitude for pre-eminence. He took the lead almost unconsciously -and without premeditation, but none the less he was conscious of a keen -pleasure in being first. Prominence with him was not a choice of -calculation, but rather an innate instinct and necessity of nature. -Alike by what was best and by what was worst in him, it was natural for -Peter to stand out from the rest, and whether right or wrong, to be -their spokesman, champion, and chief. - -As Jesus went round, washing the disciples' feet, there was perfect -stillness in the room. None ventured to speak in explanation or -remonstrance till He came to Peter. But as He prepared to kneel down -behind him, Peter stopped Him with a protest: "Lord, dost thou wash my -feet?" It looks on the face of it altogether good, and pure, and manly. -But then Christ was no narrow-hearted pedant, eager to find fault, and -imagining offence where none existed. Yet Peter's protest, instead of -being approved, is gently but firmly refused. "What I do thou dost not -understand now, but thou shalt understand presently." Beneath the fair -surface of the remonstrance there must have been some unlovely thing -that had to be rebuked away. What was the jarring chord? Had Peter's -motive been contrition, and contrition only, would he have waited till -it came to his turn? Would he not have leapt to his feet at once, and -insisted on taking the Master's place, and washing the feet of them all? -Did he sit still, ashamed for himself and them, but angrily ashamed, -resolving first that he would not basely allow his Lord to demean -Himself, then thinking hard things of the others, who suffered it -without protest? And so, when it came to his turn, was his heart full of -censorious thoughts, and a proud resolve that he would come out of the -humiliation better than the rest? If, without breach of charity, we may -take this to have been his mood, then we can understand Christ's kindly -deprecation of his words and act. He fancied his impulse all good and -noble. He did not know the treachery of his own heart. He did not fathom -the necessity for the humbling experience of having to be washed by his -Master. With the cleansing of his feet in simple obedience, his heart -would be cleansed also of pride and of anger. Then he would understand -what his Master was doing, and how He had to do it to put right so much -that was wrong in the heart of His wayward follower. - -It is not easy to obey without understanding. What was noble in Peter, -and what was base, combined to hold him back from yielding. Peter's love -recoiled from the humbling of his Master. Peter's pride shrank from the -humbling of himself. "Thou shalt never wash my feet." Truly a noble, -proud refusal! There was in it a strange mixture of good and evil. Peter -wanted to come back to right, but he wished to come in his own way. -Christ's way was painful, and the disciple would fain choose another -that did not lead through the Valley of Humiliation. But then, if you -have gone wrong through pride you cannot get right again and yet keep -your pride. If you would be good you must abase yourself. Peter's -refusal meant that his spirit still was not quite subdued, his heart not -quite humble and contrite. In that mood he could not enter into the -sacred communion of his Master's dying love. With that spirit cherished -and maintained he could not belong to His fellowship. "If I wash thee -not, thou hast no part with Me." - -Christ knew Peter's heart. The man loved his Master with a passionate -personal attachment. These words fell on his spirit with a sudden chill. -To have no part with Christ—that was more than he could bear. "Lord, not -my feet only, but also my hands and my head." It is as though he would -say, "A great part in Thee!" And we might readily count the request -blameless, and the mood that uttered it commendable only. But Jesus -declines it, and in refusing suggests that it has in it something of -unreality and excess. So then, without his knowing it, there must have -lurked in the thought Peter's love of pre-eminence. First of all, he had -wished to differ from the others in not being washed at all. Now that he -must be washed, he would be the most washed of all. Ah, the subtle -danger of wanting to be first, even in goodness! We cannot safely try to -be good for the sake of being foremost. We must be good just for -goodness' sake, with no thought of self at all. And surely silent -submission had become Peter better than any speech. When a man knows he -has gone wrong again and again, and Christ has undertaken to set him -right, his wisdom is to offer no resistance, nor make any suggestion, as -if he knew better than Jesus what had best be done. - -Self-will in choosing the way in which we are to be saved and sanctified -is a blunder from which few are quite free. We cannot leave our souls -simply in God's care and teaching. We catch at Christ's hands, and -distrust the simplicity of His grace, and dictate to the Holy Spirit the -experience and discipline we deem best. Surely it is not becoming and it -is not wise. When a man has been taken into God's hands, and has been -forgiven his sins, and is being taught by God, he should just keep very -still and very humble, and let God make of him what He will. - - -IV. - -Read 1 Sam. xxiv., and Luke xxii. 47-62. - -THE FAITHLESS.—John xiii. 11. - -Jesus enjoined us to love our enemies. We count it a hard saying. An -enemy is not lovable. The sight of him wakes instinctively not -affection, but antagonism. It is not easy to wish him well, to do him -good. We find it difficult to endure his presence without show of -repugnance. Still harder is it to pity him, to help him, to do him a -service. But there is something worse than an enemy, something more -repulsive, more unforgivable. That is a traitor—the faithless friend, -who pretends affection with malice in his breast, who receives our love -while he is plotting our ruin, and under cover of a caress stabs us to -the heart. Open hostility may be met, resented, and forgotten, but -cold-blooded treachery our human nature stamps as the all but -unpardonable sin. Its presence is revolting, and its touch loathsome. An -honest heart sickens at the sight of it. - -Among the guests gathered around the table, that night before our Lord's -death, was Judas, who betrayed Him. He had sold his Master for thirty -pieces of silver, and was watching his opportunity to complete the -covenant of blood. He sat there while Jesus washed their feet. Jesus -knew all his falseness, all his heartlessness, all his treachery. He -knew it, and He washed the traitor's feet. - -The perfection of our Lord's holiness is apt to mislead us into the idea -that because it was faultless, it was therefore easy. We conceive His -goodness as spontaneous, His sinlessness as without effort. But in truth -He was a man tempted in all points like as we are. He was obedient unto -death, but His obedience He learned by the things which He suffered. He -was perfect in purity, meekness, self-denial, but only by humbling -Himself and crucifying the flesh. His self-control was absolute, but it -cost Him as much as it does us—perchance more. His sinless, holy heart -shrank from sin's foulness, and suffered in its loathsome contact as our -stained souls cannot. The base presence and false fellowship of a Judas -must have been a perpetual pain to His pure spirit. But He endured his -meanness with a heavenly self-restraint that curbed each sign of -repugnance, and to the last He maintained for the traitor a Divine -compassion that would have saved him from himself, and that in Jesus's -nature compelled the very instincts of loathing to transform themselves -into quite marvellous ministries of superhuman loving. It was no empty -show of humility and kindness, it was pity and love incarnate, when -Jesus knelt at Judas's back, and washed the feet of His betrayer. - -That seems to me one of the most wondrous, most tragic scenes in this -world's story. Could we but have seen it—Jesus kneeling behind Judas, -laving his feet with water, touching them with His hands, wiping them -gently dry, and the traitor keeping still through it all! What a theme -for the genius of a painter—the face of Jesus and the face of Judas—the -emotions of grandeur looking out of the one, of good and evil contending -in the other! If anything could have broken the traitor's heart, and -made him throw himself in penitent abasement on the Saviour's pity, it -was when he felt on his feet his Master's warm breath and gentle touch, -and divined all the forgiving love that was in His lowly heart. - -This was our Lord's treatment of a faithless friend. On the night of His -betrayal He washed the feet of His bitterest enemy, of the man who had -sold Him to death. He rises from that act, and speaks to you and me, and -says, "I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to -you." If you have a friend that has deceived you, do not hate him; if -you have an enemy, forgive him; if you can do him a humble kindness, do -it; if you can soften and save him by lowly forbearance, be pitiful and -long-suffering to the uttermost. It is the law of Christ. If you call it -too hard for flesh and blood, remember how your Master, that night He -was betrayed, washed the feet of the man that betrayed Him. - - -V. - -Read Isa. xl., and 1 Cor. xiii. - -THE SECRET OF MAGNANIMITY.—John xiii. 12-17. - -There is a contagious quality in greatness. Young hearts, generous -souls, dwelling in the vicinity of a hero, are apt to catch his -thoughts, and words, and ways. Christ's greatness is His goodness, and -that is absolute. Men look at Jesus, behold His perfection, grow to love -Him, and hardly knowing how, become like Him. We see His tranquillity, -whose minds are so perturbed by life's worries and men's wrongs. We -wonder at His infinite peace, whose hearts are so hot and restless with -the world's rivalries and ambitions. Our spirits, tired, and hurt, and -fevered, gaze wistfully at the great serenity of His gentle life, and -ere we know it a strange longing steals into our breast to learn His -secret and find rest unto our souls. Plainly the panacea does not -consist in any change outside us, for, do what we will, still in every -lot there will be crooks and crosses that cannot be haughtily brushed -aside, that can only be robbed of their sting by being humbly borne and -patiently endured. Moreover, the world was not least, but most unkind to -Him, yet could not mar His peace, nor poison the sweetness of His soul. -Within Himself lay the talisman of His charmed life, the hidden spring -of His unchanging goodness. It was the spell of a lowly, loving, and -loyal heart. This is the key to the enigma of His perfect patience. He -loved us, and He gave Himself for us. And so, whether His friends were -gentle and obedient or wayward and rebellious, whether they were kind -and sympathetic or cold, and hard, and selfish, whether they were good -or evil, He remained unchanged and unchangeable. "Having loved His own -which were in the world, He loved them unto the end." - -The machinery of life is not simple, but complex and intricate. In its -working there cannot but be much friction. If the strains and jars of -social existence are to be borne without irritation and ill-will, there -must be between us and our neighbours a plentiful supply of the oil of -human kindness. The pressure and constraint that from a stranger would -be irksome or unendurable become tolerable or even gladsome when borne -for one we love. Did we, as God meant us to do, love our neighbour as -ourself, life's burdens would seem light, for love makes all things -easy. But then the difficulty just is to love our neighbour as ourself. -Here, as elsewhere, it is the first step that costs. For too often our -neighbour is not lovable, but hateful, and our own self is so much -nearer to us than any neighbour can be. Its imperious demands silence -his claims on our kindness, and drown the calls of duty. Its exuberant -growth overshadows his, and robs him of the sunshine. Its intense -acquisitiveness absorbs all our care and interest, all our sympathy and -affection, so that we have no time or heart to spare for his -exactions—no, not even for his necessities. Clearly in this inordinate -love of self is the root of the wrong and unrest of our life. Because we -love our own self too much, we love others too little to be able to be -generous and good like Christ. Wrapped up unduly in selfish anxiety for -our own happiness and dignity, we become too sensitive to the injuries -of foes, the slights of friends, the cuts and wounds of fortune. The -reason why we lack the lowliness of Jesus, and miss the blessedness of -His heavenly peace, is our refusal to take up the cross and follow Him -in the pathway of self-sacrifice. It was His detachment from self that -made Him invulnerable to wounds, imperturbable amid wrongs, good and -kind to the evil and to the froward. Because He cared much for others -and little for Himself, He was lifted above the strife and restless -emulation of our self-seeking lives. The charm that changed for Him the -storm of life into a great calm was the simple but potent spell of -self-renunciation. - -The thought is one that captivates fresh hearts and noble souls with the -fascination of a revelation. It seems to unlock all doors, to break all -bars, and to lift from life its mysterious burden of perplexity and -pain. The pathway of renunciation opens before their eyes with an -indefinable charm, unfolding boundless vistas of lofty achievement, -haunted by sweet whispers of a joy and content, dreamt of many a time, -but never before attained. It is a fond delusion, that experience soon -dispels. At the outset the way glows with the rosy light of a new dawn, -and our footsteps are light with the bounding life of a fresh -springtide; but ere many miles are traversed the road becomes hard and -rough, and we, with heavy hearts, drag hot and dusty feet along a weary -way. For the way of the Cross has indeed blessedness at the end of it, -but easy it cannot be till it is ended. To curb our pride, to crush our -self-seeking, to conquer passion, to quell ambition, to crucify the -flesh—these things are not easy. They have the stern stress and strain -of battle in them. To be patient under injuries, to suffer slights and -wrongs, to take the lowest place without a murmur, are conquests that -demand a strong heart and a great mind. Where shall we learn a serenity -that can be disturbed by no trouble, where find a peace that -disappointment cannot break, where reach a goodness that no wrong can -ruffle? What is the secret of magnanimity? - -The answer comes to us from John's picture of his Lord's humility. In -the forefront we behold Jesus kneeling on the ground and washing His -disciples' feet, and we wonder at such lowliness. But now John's finger -points, and our eyes rest on the heart of this lowly Saviour, and -reverently we read His thoughts. "Jesus, knowing that the Father had -given all things into His hands, and that He was come from God and went -to God," washed the disciples' feet. There is at once the marvel of His -condescension and its explanation. He was so great He could afford to -abase himself. His followers stood on their dignity, and jealously -guarded their rank. He was sure of His position. Nothing could affect -His Divine dignity. He came from God; He was going to God. What mattered -it what happened to Him, what place He held, what humiliation He -endured, in the brief snatch of earthly life between? And we, if we -would be great-minded like Him, must have the same high faith, the same -heavenly consciousness. We must know that this world, with its wrongs -and disappointments, is not all; that this life, with its pride and -pomps, is but a passing show. We must remember ever the grander world -beyond, the infinite life within, and even now, amid the glare and din -of time, live in and for eternity. Then we should no longer fret for a -thousand trifles that vex us, we should not trouble for all the wrongs -that pain and grieve us. What dignity, what grandeur, what Divine -nobility there would be in every thought, in every word, in every deed -of all our life on earth, were the consciousness ever glowing in our -hearts that we too came from God and are going back to God! - - - - -XVI. - -_A HYMN OF HEART'S EASE._ - -SUNDAY READINGS FOR THE MONTH. - - "Lord, my heart is not haughty, - Nor mine eyes lofty: - Neither do I exercise myself in great matters, - Or in things too high for me. - Surely I have behaved - And quieted myself; - As a child that is weaned of its mother, - My soul is even as a weaned child. - Let Israel hope in the Lord - From henceforth and for ever."—Ps. cxxxi. - - -I. - -Read Job xxvi., and 1 Cor. xiii. - -THE SOURCE OF UNREST. - -"Things too high for me." - -We are apt to think and speak as if difficulty of faith were an -experience peculiar to our age. It is indeed true that at particular -periods speculative uncertainty has been more widely diffused than at -others, and our own age may be one of them. But the real causes of -perplexity in things religious are permanent and unchanging, having -their roots deep-seated in the essential nature of man's relation to the -world and to God. There has never been a time when men have not had to -fight hard battles for their faith against the dark mysteries and -terrors of existence, that pressed in upon their souls and threatened to -enslave them. What is this brief Psalm, echoing like a sea-shell in its -tiny circle the heart-beat of a vanished world, but the pathetic record -of a soul's dread struggle with doubt and darkness, telling in its -simple rhythm and quiet cadences the story how through the breakers of -unbelief it fought its way to the firm shores of faith, and peace, and -hope? It reads like a tale of yesterday. It is just what we are seeking, -suffering, achieving. Yet more than two thousand years have come and -gone since the brain that thought and the hand that wrote have mouldered -into dust. - -The poem must have been penned at a time when the poet's own -misfortunes, or the general disorders of the age, were such as seemed to -clash irreconcilably with his preconceived notions of God's goodness, -character, and purposes. The shock of this collision between fact and -theory shook to its foundations the structure of his inherited creed, -and opened great fissures of questioning in the fabric of his personal -faith. He was tempted to abandon the believing habits of a religious -training and the confiding instincts of a naturally devout heart, and -either to doubt the being and power of the Almighty, or to deny His -wisdom and beneficence. For a long time he was tossed hither and thither -on the alternate ebb and flow of questioning denial and believing -affirmation, finding nowhere any firm foothold amid the unstable tumult -of conflicting evidence and inconclusive reasoning. At last out of the -confusion there dawned on his mind a growing persuasion of something -clear and certain. He perceived that not only was the balance of -evidence indecisive, but also that the issue never could but be -indeterminate. For he saw that the method itself was impotent, and could -never reach or unravel the themes of his agonised questioning. A settled -conviction forced itself upon his mind that there are in life problems -no human ingenuity can solve, questions that baffle man's intellect to -comprehend, "great matters, and things too high" for him. It was a -discovery startling, strange, and painful. But at least it was something -solid and certain; it was firm land, on which one's feet might be -planted. Moreover, it was not an ending, but a beginning, a -starting-point that led somewhere. Perchance it might prove to be the -first step in a rocky pathway, that should guide his footsteps to -heights of clearer light and wider vision, where the heart, if not the -intellect, might reach a solution of its questioning and enter into -rest. The quest he had commenced had turned out a quest of the -unattainable, but it had brought him to a real and profitable discovery. -He had recognised and accepted once and for ever the fact of the fixed -and final limitation of human knowledge. - -It is an experience all men have to make, an experience that grows with -age and deepens with wisdom, as we more and more encounter the mysteries -of existence, and fathom the shallowness of our fancied knowledge. What -do we know of God, the world, ourselves? How much, and how little! How -much about them, how little of them! Who of us, for instance, has any -actual conception of God in His absolute being? You remember how in -dreamy childhood you would vainly strive to arrest and fasten in some -definite image the vague vision of dazzling glory you had learned to -call God, which floated before your soul, awing you with its majesty and -immeasurable beauty, but evading every effort to grasp it. With -gathering years and widening horizon you watched the world's changeful -aspects and ceaseless movements, till nature seemed the transparent -vesture of its mighty Maker, but it was all in vain that you tried to -pierce the thin veil and behold the invisible Worker within. You took -counsel with science, and it told you much concerning the properties of -matter and the sequences of force, but the ultimate cause, that which is -beneath, that which worketh all in all, it could not reveal. You turned -to philosophy, and you traced the soaring thoughts of the sages, that -rushed upward like blazing rockets, as if they would pierce and -illuminate the remotest heaven; but you saw how, ere they reached that -far goal, their fire went out, their light was quenched, and they fell -back through the darkness, baffled and spent. You betook yourself to -revelation, counting that at last you were entering the inner shrine, -and you did indeed learn much that was new and precious; but soon came -the discovery that here also we do but see through a glass darkly, and -that our best knowledge of God is no more than a knowledge in part. "Lo, -these are but the outskirts of His ways; and how small a portion we know -of them! But the thunder of His power, who can understand?" We are, as -it were, surrounded on every hand by mighty mountain peaks, whose rocky -sides foil every effort to explore the pinnacles that lie hidden in -distant cloud and mist. The achievements of the human intellect are many -and marvellous, but above and beyond its realm remain, and doubtless -ever shall remain, "great matters, and things too high" for us. - - -II. - -Read Ps. xxxvii., and Matt. xi. - -THE SECRET OF REST. - -"Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty." - -There is in the human intellect an insatiable eagerness and an -indomitable energy of acquisitiveness. It carries in its consciousness -an ineradicable instinct of domination, that spurs it to boundless -enterprise and prompts it to spurn defeat. This lordly quality of the -human mind is the natural outcome of its sovereignty over the physical -creation, and the appropriate expression of its kinship with the -Creator. It is part of man's Divine birthright, and the insignia of his -nobility. But it brings with it the peril of all special prerogative, -the inevitable temptation that accompanies the possession of power. It -tends to breed a haughtiness that is restive of restraint, a -self-sufficiency that forgets its own boundaries, and an arrogance that -refuses to wield the sceptre of aught but an unlimited empire. So it -comes to pass, when reason in its restless research is brought to a stop -by the invisible but very actual confines of human knowledge, it resents -the suggestion of limitation, and declines to accept the arrest of its -onward march. The temptation that besets it is twofold. On the one hand, -pride, irritated by the check, but too clear-sighted to ignore it, is -tempted to refuse to admit any truths it cannot fathom or substantiate, -and to deny the real existence of any realm of being beyond its natural -ken. This is the characteristic error of Rationalism and Positivism. On -the other hand, there is in the opposite direction a tendency, born -equally of intellectual pride and self-will, to refuse the restriction, -to ignore reason's incapacity, and so to venture to state and explain -that which is inexplicable. Alike in the spheres of science and of -religion men strive recklessly to remove from God's face the veil which -His own hand has not drawn, and irreverently intrude into mysteries -hopelessly beyond human thought to conceive or human speech to express. -This is the transgression of rash speculation and of arrogant dogmatism, -and it is in itself as sinful, and in its consequences as harmful, as -are the blank negations of scepticism. - -Each of these errors the author of our poem was fortunate enough to -escape. Recognising the limitation of all earthly knowledge, he does not -rage against the restrictions and beat himself against the environing -bars. He does not take it on himself, by a foolish fiat of his finite -littleness, to decree the non-existence of everything too subtle for his -dim eyes to perceive, or too fine for his dull ear to hear. Where he -fails to understand the wisdom or goodness of God's ways he does not -intrude and try to alter them, neither does he wildly struggle to -comprehend their meaning, nor madly refuse to submit to them. He adapts -himself to the Divine dealing, and is content to obey without insisting -on knowing the reason why. He curbs in the cravings of his mind, nor -will suffer the swift stream of his thought to rush on like an impetuous -torrent, dashing itself against obstructing rocks, and fretting its -waters into froth and foam. He possesses his soul in patience, and does -not "exercise" himself "in great matters, or in things too high" for him. - -This attitude of acquiescence is the position imposed on us by -necessity, and prescribed by wisdom. But, as a matter of fact, its -practical possession depends on the presence of a certain inner mood or -disposition. We have seen that the denials of scepticism and the -excesses of dogmatism are alike the offspring of pride, and spring from -an over-estimation of the potency of reason. Therefore, as we might -expect, the poet's simple acceptance of limitation and contentment with -partial knowledge are due to the fact that he has formed a modest -estimate of himself. "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes -lofty." His submission to restraint has its root in humility. He does -not exaggerate his capacity. He takes the measure of his mind -accurately. He does not expect to be able to accomplish more than his -abilities are equal to. It seems to him quite natural that men should -not be able to comprehend all God's ways. It is to be expected that -there should be many things in God's operations beyond their knowledge, -and in his thoughts passing their understanding. It is, therefore, no -matter for surprise that men should encounter in God's universe "great -matters," and "things too high" for them. Nay, the wonder and -disappointment would be if there were no mysteries, no infinitudes, -transcending our narrow souls. Would it gladden you if indeed God were -no greater than our thoughts of Him? What if the sun were no brighter -and no vaster than the shrunken, dim, and tarnished image of his -radiance framed in a child's toy mirror? Alas for us if God and the -universe were not immeasurably grander than mankind's most majestic -conceptions of them! Measuring ourselves thus, in truth and lowliness, -over against God, who will not say, with the poet of our Psalm, "Lord, -my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty: neither do I exercise -myself in great matters, or in things too high for me"? - - -III. - -Read Ps. lxxiii., and Heb. xii. - -CALM AFTER STORM. - -"Surely I have behaved and quieted myself." - -Peace bulks largely in all our dreams of ideal happiness. Without repose -of heart we cannot conceive of perfect contentment. But we must not -forget that the peace of inexperience is a fragile possession, and that -the only lasting rest is the repose that is based upon conquest. We -speak with languid longing and ease-seeking envy of the peace of Jesus, -because we forget that His peace was a peace constituted out of -conflict, maintained in the face of struggle, and made perfect through -suffering. Therefore it was a peace strong and majestic, and the story -of His life is the world's greatest epic. A life that commenced with -effortless attainment, proceeded in easy serenity, and ended in -tranquillity were a life without a history, pleasant but monotonous, -devoid of dramatic interest, and destitute of significance. The young -cadet, in his boyish bloom and unworn beauty, furnishes the painter with -a fairer model, but the grizzled hero of a hundred fights, with his -battered form and furrowed face, makes the greater picture. It means so -much more. And it means more precisely because the tried valour of the -veteran is so much more than the promise of the untested tyro. Innocence -unsullied and untried has a loveliness all its own, but it lacks the -pathos of suggestion, the depth of significance, and the strength of -permanence that make the glory of virtue that has borne the brunt of -battle, and has known the bitterness of defeat, the agony of retrieval, -and the exultation of recovered victory. We talk proudly of the faith -that has never felt a doubt, that has been pierced by no perplexity, and -shows no mark of the sweat and stress of conflict. We look askance on -difficulty of faith, have no mercy on lack of assurance, and reckon them -happy who are convinced without trouble and believe without effort. That -is not quite the Bible estimate. The Psalms echo with the prayers of -hard-pressed faith, and throb with the cries of agonised doubt. The New -Testament speaks of faith as a fight, counts them happy who endure, and -pronounces blessed the man who encounters and overcomes temptation. If -"strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leadeth unto life," how -should faith be easy, since faith is that gate, that way? The truth is -that we invert the Divine standard of values, and put last what God puts -first. We count enviable the land-locked harbours of unthreatened -belief, that are protected from assault by their very shallowness and -narrowness. We are blind to the providential discipline which ordains -that men should wrestle with difficulty, and in overcoming it attain a -tried and tempered faith possible only to those who have passed through -the furnace of temptation. For sinful men there can be no real strength -that is not transmuted weakness, no permanent peace that is not a -triumph over rebellion, no perfect faith that is not a victory over -doubt. The saints that have most reflected the spirit of Christ formed -their fair character, like their Master, in lives of which it may be -said, "Without were fightings, within were fears." The way of the cross -has ever been a way of conflict, and it is they who come out of great -tribulation that enter into the rest that remaineth. The deep lakes that -sleep in the hollows of high mountains, and mirror in their placid -depths the quiet stars, have their homes in the craters of volcanoes, -that have spent their fury, quenched their fires, and are changed into -pools of perpetual peace. - -There breathes through our Psalm an atmosphere of infinite repose—a -subdued rest, like the hush of a cradle song. Nevertheless, if we listen -closely enough to its music, we catch under its lullaby the low echo of -a bygone anguish, the lingering sob of a vanished tempest. Nature's most -exquisite embodiment of calm is the sweet fresh air that is left by a -great storm; and the perfection of the Psalm's restfulness is that it -consists of unrest conquered and transmuted. For the poet's peace is the -result of a great struggle, the reward of a supreme act of -self-subjection. "Surely I have behaved and quieted myself;" or, -preserving the imagery of the words, "Surely I have calmed and hushed my -soul." His submissiveness had not been native, but acquired. His -lowliness of heart was not a natural endowment, but a laborious -accomplishment. His acquiescence in God's mysterious ways was a thing -not inborn and habitual, but was rather the calm that follows a storm, -when the tempest has moaned itself into stillness, and the great waves -have rocked themselves into unruffled rest. For his soul had once been -rebellious, like a storm-lashed sea dashing itself against the iron -cliffs that bounded its waves, and impetuous like a tempest rushing -through the empty air, seeking to attain the unattainable, and spending -its force vainly in vacancy. He had longed to flash thought, lightning -like, athwart the thick darkness that surrounded Jehovah's throne, and -to lay bare its hidden secrets. It was all in vain. Hemmed in on every -hand, beaten back in his attempts to pierce the high heaven, baffled in -every effort to read the enigma of God's ways, he had been tempted to -revolt, and either to renounce his trust in the Almighty's goodness or -to refuse to submit to His control. It cost him a hard and weary -struggle to regain his reliance, to restore his allegiance, to calm and -hush his soul. - -There was nothing wonderful in this conflict, nor anything exceptional -in the experience. It is the common lot of men. True, there are some -natures for whom the tenure of faith is less arduous than it is for -others. But in almost every life there come crises when this same battle -has to be fought. For it is not always easy to be content to trust -without seeing, and to follow God's leading in the dark, when the way -seems all wrong and mistaken. There are things in life that rudely shake -our faith from its dreamless slumber, and sweep the soul away over the -dreary billows of doubt and darkness. There are times when, to our -timorous hearts, it seems too terrible to be compelled just to trust and -not to understand. Such conflicts come to us all more or less. Painful -and protracted the struggle sometimes is, but not necessarily evil, not -even harmful. For if we do but fight it out honestly and bravely the -fruits will be, as they were with our poet, wholesome, good, and -peaceable. - - -IV. - -Read Ps. xlvi., and Phil. ii. - -VICTORY BY SURRENDER. - -"As a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned -child." - -It is good to cheer men on in a noble strife by speaking of the -certainty of victory, and by the story of heroic deeds to nerve their -arms for battle and stir their hearts to war. But that is not enough. -They want more than that. They want to learn how to wage a winning war, -how to secure the highest triumph, how out of conflict to organise -peace. In the good fight of faith what is the secret of success? Has our -Psalm any light on that point? By what method did the poet still the -turmoil of his doubt and reach his great peace? The process is finely -pictured in a homely but exquisite image: "Like a weaned child on its -mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me." What does that mean? -Torn by an insatiable longing to know the meaning of God's mysterious -ways, he had struggled fiercely to wring an answer from the Almighty. -His heart was long the abode of unrest, and storm, and tempest. At -length peace falls on the fray; there is no more clangour of contention: -all is quietness and rest. How is this? Has he succeeded in solving the -enigmas that pained him? Have his cravings for an answer from God been -gratified? If not, how has he attained this perfect repose? His peace is -the peace of a weaned child. Not, therefore, by obtaining that which he -craved has he found rest; for the rest of a weaned child is not that of -gratification, but of resignation. It is the repose, not of satisfied -desire, but of abnegation and submission. After a period of prolonged -and painful struggle to have its longings answered, the little one gives -over striving any more, and is at peace. That process was a picture to -our poet of what passed in his own heart. Like a weaned child, its tears -over, its cries hushed, reposing on the very bosom that a little ago -excited its most tumultuous desires, his soul, that once passionately -strove to wring from God an answer to its eager questionings, now -wearied, resigned, and submissive, just lays itself to rest in simple -faith on that goodness of God whose purposes it cannot comprehend, and -whose ways often seem to it harsh, and ravelled, and obscure. It is a -picture of infinite repose and of touching beauty—the little one -nestling close in the mother's arms, its head reclining trustfully on -her shoulder, the tears dried from its now quiet face, and the restful -eyes, with just a lingering shadow of bygone sorrow in them still, -peering out with a look of utter peace, contentment, and security. It is -the peace of accepted pain, the victory of self-surrender. - -The transition from doubt to belief, from strife to serenity, is -remarkable. We want to know what produced this startling change of mood, -what influences fostered it, what motives urged it, what reasons -justified it. Perhaps a glimpse, a suggestion of the process is hinted -in the simile chosen from child life. The infant takes its rest on the -breast of its mother—of its mother, whose refusal of its longings caused -it all the pain and conflict, whose denial of its instinctive desires -seemed so unnatural and so cruel. How is it, then, that instead of being -alienated, the child turns to her for solace in the sorrow she caused, -and reposes on the very breast that so resolutely declined to supply its -wants? It is because over against this single act of seeming unkindness -stand unnumbered deeds of goodness and acts of fondness, and so this one -cause of doubt and of aversion is swallowed up in a whole atmosphere of -unceasing tenderness and love. Besides, rating the apparent -unmotherliness at the very highest, still there is no other to whom the -child can turn that will better help it and care for it than its mother. -So, since it cannot get all it would like, the little one is content to -take what it may have—the warmth, and shelter, and security of its -mother's breast. - -This process of conflict between doubt and trust, rebellion and -resignation, which half-unconsciously takes place in the child, is a -miniature of the strife that had surged to and fro in the poet's soul. -Pained and perplexed by the mystery of God's ways, foiled in his efforts -to fathom them, denied all explanation by the Almighty, he was beset by -the temptation to abandon faith and cast off his allegiance to his -heavenly Friend. But he saw that that would not solve any enigma or -lighten the darkness. Rather it would confront him with still greater -difficulties, and leave the world only more empty, dark, and dreary. -Then, benumbed and tired out, he gave over thinking and arguing, and was -content for a little just to live in the circle of light and sunshine -that ever is within the great darkness. Gradually it dawned upon him -that in the world of men's experience there was much, very much, of -goodness that could only be the doing of the God that moves in the -mystery and in the darkness. The warmth of the thought crept into his -heart, softer feelings woke, love and lowliness asserted themselves, and -at length he became content to just trust God, spite of all -perplexities, partly because there was so much undeniable proof of His -tenderness, and partly because there was more of rest and comfort in -this course than in any other. - - -V. - -Read Gen. xxxii., and Rev. vii. - -THE RECOMPENSE OF FAITH. - -"Let Israel hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever." - -Who has not wondered why there is so much mystery in the universe, such -perplexity in our life, and in revelation itself why so many doubts are -permitted to assail our souls and make it hard for us to be Christians? -Is this wisely or kindly ordered? Perchance it is necessary, but is it -not evil? Can warfare ever be aught but loss and not gain? The question -is natural, but the answer is not uncertain. The fight of faith is a -good fight. Success means no bare victory, but one crowned with splendid -spoil. We shall be the better for having had to fight. The gain of the -conflict shall out-weigh all the loss, and in the final triumph the -victors shall manifestly appear more than conquerors. This is no -paradox, but the common law of life. The same principle rules in the -homely image of the child. Weaning is not needless pain, is not wasted -suffering. It is a blessing in disguise. The distressing process is in -truth promotion. It is the vestibule of pain that leads to a maturer and -larger life. In like fashion the struggles of doubt are inevitable, if -faith is not to remain feeble and infantile. Only in the furnace of -affliction does it acquire its finest qualities. Were there no clouds -and darkness around God's throne, how should men learn humility and -practise reverence? Human nature is too coarse a thing to be entrusted -with perfect knowledge. A religion of knowledge only were a hard and -soulless thing, devoid of grace, and life, and love; for sight and -reason leave nothing for the imagination, and rob affection of its sweet -prerogative to dream and to adore. Without the discipline of toil and -the developing strain of antagonism, how should faith grow strong, and -broad, and deep? Most of us start in the life religious with an -inherited, fostered, unreasoning belief, which therefore is weak, puny, -and unstable. It is the storms of doubt and difficulty that rouse it to -self-consciousness, stir it to activity, urge it by exertion to growth -and expansion, and compel it to strike deep roots in the soil of -reality. For in such conflict the soul is driven in upon God. It is -forced to make actual proof of its possessions, to realise and employ -properties that hitherto were known to it only through the title-deeds -or as mere assets available in case of necessity. With wonder faith -discovers the rare value of its inheritance, and enters for the first -time into actual enjoyment of its spiritual treasures. It is no longer -faith about God, but is now faith in God. In its agony and helplessness -the soul is compelled to press close up to God, to take tighter hold of -His hand, to fling itself on Him for help and comfort, just as a sick -child clings to its mother. And ever after such a struggle there are a -fresh beauty and sacredness in its relation to God. There is that -pathetic tenderness of affection friends have who by some -misunderstanding were well-nigh sundered, but having overcome it, are -nearer and dearer to each other than ever before. There are a quiet -community of knowledge, and a restful confidentiality of affection, that -were not there before, that come of having had to fight that you might -not be severed from each other. The recoil of joy from the dread of -loss, and the memory of the agony that thought was to you, make God -dearer to you now than ever. Out of the very strife and doubt there is -born a new assurance of your love, in the consciousness you have -acquired of the pain it would be to you to be deprived of your Divine -Friend. - -The experience is of general application. It is the secret of serenity -amid the world's mystery and life's pain and perplexity. Therefore, when -at any time the clouds gather around you, and their blackness seems to -darken on the very face of God, do not turn away in terror or anger, but -cling the faster to Him, even if it be by the extreme hem of His -garment. What wonder if your feeble eye fails to read clear and true -each majestic feature of that Divine face which is so infinitely high -above you? What matter if sometimes its radiance is obscured by the -chill fogs and creeping vapours of earth's mingled atmosphere? The -darkness is not on God's face, but beneath it. One day you shall rise -higher, and you shall see Him as He is. Meantime, in your gloomiest -hour, when overwhelming doubts, like hissing waves, wind and coil around -your heart, and seek to pluck it from its hold, then do but let all -other things go, and with your last energy cling to this central, -sovereign certainty, that whatever else is true, this at least is sure, -that God is good, and that He whose doings you cannot comprehend is your -Father. And so, weary of dashing yourself vainly against the bulwarks of -darkness that girdle His throne, be content to lay yourself down humbly -as a tired child on the breast of your heavenly Father. Thus, with your -questionings unanswered, with the darkness not rolled away, with a -thousand problems all unsolved, be quieted, be hushed, be at peace. Lay -down your head, your weary, aching head, on the great heart of God, and -be at rest. - -Doing this, you shall reach not merely passive resignation, but joy, and -peace, and trust. For of humble submission hope is born. "Let Israel -hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever." Perchance all you can do -now is just, in weariness, more out of helpless despair than active -expectancy, to fall back on a faint, broken-hearted trust in God's -goodness. It is an act of faith, poor enough, in truth, but it holds in -it the promise and potency of a better confidence. For it is into the -arms of God that it carries you. Resting there in the lap of His -infinite love, you shall feel the warmth of His great heart penetrating -softly into yours. The weary, throbbing pain will slowly pass away. Deep -rest and quiet peace will steal into your spirit. And at length, out of -a helpless, compelled, and well-nigh hopeless surrender, there shall be -born within you fearless trust and winged reliance, and you shall hope -in the Lord from henceforth and for ever. - - - - -XVII. - -_THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS._ - - -There is in many people's minds a painful uneasiness about the relation -of the Bible to modern science and philosophy. The appearance of each -new theory is deprecated by believers with pious timidity, and hailed by -sceptics with unholy hope. On neither side is this a dignified or a -wholesome attitude. Its irksome and intrusive pressure promotes neither -a robust piety nor a sober-minded science. It is worth while inquiring -whether there is any sufficient foundation for either alarm or -expectancy in the actual relations of the Bible to scientific thought. -We shall work out our answer to the question on the historical -battle-field of the 1st chapter of Genesis. Results reached there will -be found to possess a more or less general validity. - -There are two records of creation—one is contained in the Bible, which -claims to be God's Word; the other is stamped in the structure of the -world, which is God's work. Both being from the same Author, we should -expect them to agree in their general tenour; but in fact, so far from -being in harmony, they have an appearance of mutual contradiction that -demands explanation. - -In studying the problem certain considerations must be borne in mind. -There is a loose way of talking about antagonism between the natural and -the revealed accounts of creation. That is not quite accurate. Conflict -between these there cannot be, for they never actually come into -contact. It is not they, but our theories, that meet and collide. The -discord is not in the original sources, but in our renderings of them. -That is a very different matter, and of quite incommensurate importance. - -The Bible story is very old. It is written in an ancient and practically -dead language. The meaning of many of the words cannot be fixed with -precision. The significance of several fundamental phrases is at best -little more than conjecture. Since it was penned men's minds have grown -and changed. The very moulds of human thought have altered. Current -impressions, conceptions, ideas are different. It is hard to determine, -with even probability, what is said, still harder to realise what was -thought. Certainty is impossible. No rendering should be counted -infallible, not even our own. Every interpretation ought to be advanced -with modest diffidence, held tentatively, revised with alacrity, and -adjusted to new facts without timidity and without shame. This has not -been the characteristic attitude of commentators. The exegesis of the -1st chapter of Genesis presents a long array of theories, propounded -with authority, defended dogmatically, and ignominiously discredited and -deserted. Had a more lowly spirit presided over their inception, -maintenance, and abandonment, the list would perhaps not have been -shorter, but the retrospect would have been less humiliating. As it is, -we can hardly complain of the sting of satire that lurks in Kepler's -recital of Theology's successive retreats: "In theology we balance -authorities; in philosophy we weigh reasons. A holy man was Lactantius, -who denied that the earth was round. A holy man was Augustine, who -granted the rotundity, but denied the antipodes. A holy thing to me is -the Inquisition, which allows the smallness of the earth, but denies its -motion. But more holy to me is truth. And hence I prove by philosophy -that the earth is round, inhabited on every side, of small size, and in -motion among the stars. And this I do with no disrespect to the doctors." - -The physical record is also very old. Its story is carved in a script -that is often hardly legible, and set forth in symbols that are not easy -to decipher. The testimony of the rocks embodies results of creation, -but does not present the actual operations. Effects suggest processes, -but do not disclose their precise measure, manner, and origination. You -may dissect a great painting into its ultimate lines and elements, and -from the canvas peel off the successive layers of colour, and duly -record their number and order; but when you have done you have not even -touched the essential secret of its creation. In determining the first -origin of things the limitation of science is absolute, and even in -tracing the subsequent development there is room for error, ignorance, -and diversity of explanation. Of certainties in scientific theory there -are few. For the most part, all that can be attained is probability, -especially in speculative matters, such as estimates of time, -explanations of formation, and theories of causation. As in exegesis, so -in geology, all hypotheses ought to be counted merely tentative, -maintained with modesty, and held open at every point to revision and -reconstruction. The necessity of caution and reserve needs no enforcing -for any one who knows the variety and inconsistency of the phases -through which speculative geology has passed in our own generation. In -this destiny of transitoriness it does but share the lot of all -scientific theory. Professor Huxley was once cruel enough to call -attention to the fact that "extinguished theologians lie about the -cradle of every science, as the strangled snakes beside that of -Hercules." The statement is a graphic, if somewhat ferocious, reminder -of a melancholy fact, and the fate of these trespassing divines should -warn their successors—as the Professor means it should—not to stray out -of their proper pastures. But has it fared very differently with the -mighty men of science who have essayed to solve the high problems of -existence and to make all mysteries plain? Take up a history of -philosophy, turn over its pages, study its dreary epitomes of defunct -theories, and as you survey the long array of skeletons tell me, are you -not reminded of the prophet who found himself "set down in the midst of -the valley which was full of dry bones: and, behold, there were very -many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry"? - -If it is human to err, theology and geology have alike made full proof -of their humanity. That in itself is not their fault, but their -misfortune. The pity of it is that to the actual fact of fallibility -they have so often added the folly of pretended infallibility. The -resultant duty is an attitude of mutual modesty, of reserve in -suspecting contradiction, of patience in demanding an adjustment, of -perseverance in separate and honest research, of serenity of mind in -view of difficulties, coupled with a quiet expectation of final fitting. -The two accounts are alike trustworthy. They are not necessarily -identical in detail. It is enough that they should correspond in their -essential purport. It may be that the one is the complement of the -other, as soul is to body—unlike, yet vitally allied. Perchance their -harmony is not that of duplicates, but of counterparts. They were made -not to overlap like concentric circles, but to interlock like toothed -wheels. In the end, when partial knowledge has given way to perfect, -they will be seen to correspond, and nothing will be broken but the -premature structures of adjustment with which men have thought to make -them run smoother than they were meant to do. - -To attempt anew a task that has proved so disastrous, and is manifestly -so difficult, must be admitted to be bold, if not even foolhardy. But -its very desperateness is its justification. To fall in a forlorn hope -is not ignoble. To miss one's way in threading the labyrinth of the 1st -chapter of Genesis is pardonable, a thing almost to be expected. If in -seeking to escape Scylla the traveller should fall into Charybdis, no -one will be surprised—not even himself. It is in the most undogmatic -spirit that we wish to put forward our reading of the chapter. It is -presented simply as a possible rendering. What can be said for it will -be said as forcibly as may be. It is open to objection from opposite -sides. That may be not altogether against it, since truth is rarely -extreme. Difficulties undoubtedly attach to it, and defects as well. At -best it can but contribute to the ultimate solution. Perchance its share -in the task may be no more than to show by trial that another way of -explanation is impossible. Well, that too is a service. Every fresh -by-way proved impracticable, and closed to passage, brings us a step -nearer the pathway of achievement. For the loyal lover of truth it is -enough even so to have been made tributary to the truth. - -The business of a theologian is, in the first instance at least, with -the Scriptural narrative. To estimate its worth, and determine its -relation to science, we must ascertain its design. Criticism of a -church-organ, under the impression that it was meant to do the work of a -steam-engine, would certainly fail to do justice to the instrument, and -the disquisition would not have much value in itself. Before we exact -geology of Genesis we must inquire whether there is any in it. If there -be none, and if there was never meant to be any, the demand is as absurd -as it would be to require thorns of a vine and thistles of the fig-tree. -Should it turn out, for instance, that the order of the narrative is -intentionally not chronological, then every attempt to reconcile it with -the geological order is of necessity a Procrustean cruelty, and the -venerable form of Genesis is fitted to the geological couch at the cost -of its head or its feet. Either the natural sense of the chapter is -sacrificed or the pruned narrative goes on crutches. If we would deal -fairly and rationally with the Bible account of creation, our first duty -is to determine with exactness what it purposes to tell, and what it -does not profess to relate. We must settle with precision, at the outset -of our investigation, what is its subject, method, and intention. The -answer is to be found, not in _à priori_ theories of what the contents -ought to be, but in an accurate and honest analysis of the chapter. - -The narrative of creation is marked by an exquisite symmetry of thought -and style. It is partly produced by the regular use of certain rubrical -phrases, which recur with the rhythmical effect of a refrain. There is -the terminal of the days—"and there was evening, and there was morning, -day one," etc.; the embodiment of the Divine creative will in the -eightfold "God said;" the expression of instant fulfilment in the swift -responsive "and it was so;" and the declaration of perfection in the -"God saw that it was good." But the symmetry of the chapter lies deeper -than the wording. It pervades the entire construction of the narrative. -As the story proceeds there is expansion, variety, progression. Yet each -successive paragraph is built up on one and the same type and model. -This uniformity is rooted in the essential structure of the thought, and -is due to the determination with which one grand truth is carried like a -key-note through all the sequences of the theme, and rings out clear and -dominant in every step and stage of the development. Our first duty is -to follow, and find out with certainty, this ruling purpose, and then to -interpret the subordinate elements by its light and guidance. - -The narrative distributes the operation of creation over six days, and -divides it into eight distinct acts or deeds. This double divergent -arrangement of the material is made to harmonise by the assignment of a -couple of acts to the third day, and another couple to the sixth—in each -case with a fine and designed effect. We shall take a bird's-eye view of -the contents of these divisions. - -The chapter opens with a picture of primeval chaos, out of which God -commands the universe of beauty, life, and order. Nothing is said of its -origin. The story starts with it existent. It is painted as an abyss, -dreary and boundless, wrapped in impenetrable darkness, an inextricable -confusion of fluid matter, destitute of character, structure, or value, -without form and void. It is the raw material of the universe, passive -and powerless in itself, but holding in it the promise and potency of -all existence. For over it nestles, like a brood fowl, the informing, -warming, life-giving Spirit of God, sending through its coldness and -emptiness the heat and parental yearnings of the Divine heart, that -craves for creatures on which to pour out its love and goodness. This -action of the Spirit is, however, no more than preparative, and waits -its completion in the accession of a personal fiat of God's will, in -which the Divine Word gives effect and reality to the Divine Wish. This -is a feature of supreme importance, for in it consists the uniqueness of -the Bible narrative. In the Pagan accounts of creation we find the same -general imagery of dull, dead matter, stirred and warmed into life and -development by the action of an immaterial effluence of "thought," -"love," or "longing." But in them the operation is cosmic, impersonal, -often hardly conscious; in the Bible it is ethical and intensely -personal. In them the language is metaphysical, materialistic, or -pantheistic; here it is moral, human, personal, to the point of -anthropomorphism. They show us creative forces and processes; the Bible -presents to us, in all His infinite, manifold, and glorious personality, -the thinking, living, loving "God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven -and earth." - -The result of the first day and the first Divine decree is the -production of light. The old difficulty about the existence of light -before the sun was made, as it was invented by science, has been by -science dispelled. The theory of light as a mode of motion, which for -the present holds the field, knows no obstacle to the presence of light -in the absence of the sun. But this harmony is not due to any prescience -of modern science in the writer of Genesis. His idea of light is not -undulatory, and not scientific, but just the simple popular notion found -everywhere in the Bible. Light is a fine substance, distinct from all -others, and it appears first in the list of creation, as being the first -and noblest of the elements that go to make up our habitable world. The -emergence of the light is presented as instantaneously following the -Divine decree. That is manifestly the literary effect designed in the -curtness of the sequence, "Let there be light, and there was light." The -light is pronounced good, is permanently established in possession of -its special properties and powers, and is set in its service of the -world and man by having assigned to it its place in the "alternate mercy -of day and night." There is a very fine touch in the position of the -declaration of goodness. It stands here earlier than in the succeeding -sections. Darkness is in the Bible the standing emblem of evil. It would -have been discordant with that imagery to make God pronounce it good, -though as the foil of light it serves beneficent ends. The jarring note -is tacitly and simply avoided by introducing the assertion of the -goodness of light before the mention of its background and negation, -darkness. The picture of the first day of creation is subscribed with -the formula of completeness—"There was evening, and there was morning, -one day," or "day first"—and has for its net result the production of -the element or sphere of light. - -The second day and the second Divine decree are devoted to the formation -of the firmament. All through the Old Testament the sky is pictured as a -solid dome or vaulted roof, above which roll the primeval waters of -chaos. The notion is of course popular, a figment of the primitive -imagination, and quite at variance with the modern conception of space -filled by an interastral ether; though it is well to remember that this -same ether is no more ascertained fact than was the old-world firmament, -and is in its turn simply an invention of the scientific imagination. It -is of more moment to note that the real motive and outcome of the day's -work is not the firmament. That is not an end, but a means, precisely as -a sea-wall is not an object in itself, but merely the instrument of the -reclamation of valuable land. What the erection of the firmament does -towards the making of our world is the production of the intervening -aërial space and the lower expanse of terrestrial waters. Since this -last portion of the work is not complete prior to the separation of the -dry land, the declaration of goodness or perfection is, with exquisite -fineness of suggestion, tacitly omitted. The net result of the day is, -therefore, the formation of the realms of air and water as elements or -spheres of existence. - -The third day includes two works—the production of the solid ground, and -of vegetation. The dead, inert soil, and its manifold outgrowth of plant -life, are strikingly distinct, and yet most intimately related. Together -they make up the habitable earth. They are therefore presented as -separate works, but conjoined in the framework of one day. Two sections -of the vegetable kingdom are singled out for special mention—the cereals -and the fruit-trees. It is not a complete or a botanical classification, -and manifestly science is not contemplated. Those divisions of the -plant-world that sustain animal and human life, and minister to its -enjoyment, are drawn out into pictorial relief and prominence. The -intention is practical, popular, and religious. The net result of the -day is the production of the habitable dry land. - -The fourth day and the fifth decree call into being the celestial -bodies—the sun, moon, and stars. They are called luminaries; that is to -say, not masses or accumulations of light, but managers and distributers -of light, and the value of this function of theirs, for the religious -and secular calendar, for agriculture, navigation, and the daily life of -men, is formally and elaborately detailed. Were this account of the -heavenly bodies intended as a scientific or exhaustive statement of -their Divine destination and place in the universe, it would be -miserably inadequate and erroneous. But if the whole aim of the -narrative be not science, but religion, then it is absolutely -appropriate, exact, and powerful. In the teeth of an all but universal -worship of sun, moon, and stars, it declares them the manufacture of -God, and the ministers and servants of man. For this practical religious -purpose the geocentric description of them is not an accident, but -essential. It is not a blunder, but a merit. It is true piety, not -cosmical astronomy, that is being established. In the words of Calvin, -"Moses, speaking to us by the Holy Spirit, did not treat of the heavenly -luminaries as an astronomer, but as it became a theologian, having -regard to us rather than to the stars." The net result of the fourth day -is the production of the heavenly orbs of light. - -The fifth day and the sixth work issue in the production of birds and -fishes, or, more accurately, all creatures that fly or swim. It is -evidently a classification by the eye—the ordinary popular division—and -it makes no attempt at scientific pretension or profundity. As having -conscious life, these new creatures of God's love are blessed by Him, -and have their place and purpose in the order of being defined and -established. The net result of the day is the formation of fowls and -fishes. - -The sixth day, like the third, includes two works—the land animals and -man. The representation admirably expresses their intimate relationship, -and yet essential distinction. The animals are graphically divided into -the domestic quadrupeds, the small creatures that creep and crawl, and -the wild beasts of the field. The classification is as little scientific -in intention or substance as is the general arrangement into birds, -fishes, and beasts, which of course traverses radically alike the -historical order of palæontology and the physiological grouping of -zoology. The narrative simply adopts the natural grouping of observation -and popular speech, because that suffices, and best suits its purpose. -With a wonderful simplicity, yet with consummate effect, man is -portrayed as the climax and crown of creation. Made in the image and -likeness of God, he is clothed with sovereign might and dominion over -all the elements and contents of Nature. The personal, conscious -counterpart and child of God, he stands at the other end of the chain of -creation, and with answering intelligence and love looks back adoringly -to his great Father in the heavens. Mention is made of lesser matters, -such as sex and food; but manifestly the supreme interest of the -delineation is ethical and religious. Science is no more contemplated as -an ingredient in the conception than prose is in poetry. With the making -of man the circle of creation is complete, and the finished perfection -of the whole, as well as the parts, is expressed in the superlative -declaration that "God saw everything that He had made, and, behold, it -was very good." The net result of the sixth day is the formation of the -land animals and man. - -The six days of creative activity are followed by a seventh of Divine -repose. On the seventh day God rested; or, as it is more fully worded in -Exodus (xxxi. 17), God "rested and was refreshed." It is a daring -anthropomorphism, and at the same time a master-stroke of inspired -genius. What a philosophical dissertation hardly could accomplish it -achieves by one simple image. For our thought of God the idea performs -the same service as the institution of the Sabbath does for our souls -and bodies. The weekly day of rest is the salvation of our personality -from enslavement in material toil. During six days the toiler is tied, -bent and bowed, to his post in the vast machinery of the world's work. -On the seventh all is stopped, and he is free to lift himself erect to -the full stature of his manhood, to expand the loftier elements of his -being, to reassert his freedom, and realise his superiority over what is -mechanical, secular, and earthly. What in the progressive portraiture of -creation is the effect of this sudden declaration that the Creator -rested? Why, an intensely powerful reminder of the free, conscious, and -personal nature of His action. And this impression of such unique value -is secured precisely by the anthropomorphism, as no philosophical -disquisition could have done it. The blot and blemish of all -metaphysical delineation is that personalities get obliterated and -swallowed up in general principles and impersonal abstractions. In all -other cosmogonies of any intellectual pretension the process of creation -is presented as passive, or Necessitarian, or Pantheistic, and -invariably the free personality of the Creator becomes entangled in His -work, or entirely vanishes. By this stroke of inspired imagination the -Bible story rescues from all such risks and degradations our thought of -the Creator, and at its close leaves us face to face with our Divine -Maker as free, personal, living, loving, and conscious as we are -ourselves. - -We have now got what is, I trust, a fairly accurate and complete summary -of the contents of the narrative. It is not necessary for our purpose to -discuss its relations to the Pagan cosmogonies. From the sameness -everywhere of the human eye, mind, and fancy, certain conceptions are -common property. There is probably a special kinship between the -Biblical and the Babylonian and Phœnician accounts. But with all respect -for enthusiastic decipherers, we make bold to believe, with more -sober-minded critics, that the 1st chapter of Genesis owes very little -to Babylonian mythology, and very much indeed to Hebrew thought and the -revealing Spirit of God. The chapter strikingly lacks the characteristic -marks of myth, and is on the face of it a masterpiece of exquisite -artistic workmanship and profound religious inspiration. Proof of this -has appeared in plenty during our brief study of its structure and -contents. Let us proceed to use the results of our analysis to determine -some more general characteristics of its structure and design. - -The process of creation is portrayed in six great steps or stages. Is -this order put forward as corresponding with the physical course of -events? and, further, does it tally with the order stamped in the record -of the rocks? Replying to the second question first, it must be admitted -that, _primâ facie_, the Bible sequence does not appear to be in unison -with the geological. Of attempted reconciliations there is an almost -endless variety, but, unfortunately, among the harmonies themselves -there is no harmony. At the present moment there is none that has gained -general acceptance: a few possess each the allegiance of a handful of -partisans; the greater number command the confidence only of their -respective authors, and some not even that. It is needless to discuss -these reconciliations, because if geology is trustworthy in its main -results, and if our interpretation of the meaning of Genesis is at all -correct, correspondence in order and detail is impossible. If the order -of Genesis was meant as science, then geology and Genesis are at issue; -but, on the other hand, if the sequence in Genesis was never meant to be -physical the wrong lies with ourselves, who have searched for geology -where we should have looked for religion, and have, with the best -intentions, persisted in trying to turn the Bible bread of life into the -arid stone of science. Now, we venture to suggest that in drafting this -chapter the ruling formative thought was not chronology. It must be -remembered that the narrative was under no obligation to follow the -order of actual occurrence, unless that best suited its purpose. Zoology -does not group the animals in the order of their emergence into -existence, but classifies and discusses them in a very different -sequence, adopted to exhibit their structural and functional affinities. -If the design of Genesis was not to inform us about historical geology, -but to reveal and enforce religious truth, it might well be that a -literary or a logical, and not a chronological, arrangement might best -serve its end. As a matter of fact, the order chosen is not primarily -historical. Another quite different and very beautiful idea has -fashioned, and is enshrined in, the arrangement. Looking at our analysis -of their contents, we perceive that the six days fall into two parallel -sets of three, whose members finely correspond. The first set presents -us with three vast empty tenements or habitations, and the second set -furnishes these with occupants. The first day gives us the sphere of -light; the fourth day tenants it with sun, moon, and stars. The second -day presents the realm of air and water; the fifth day supplies the -inhabitants—birds and fishes. The third day produces the habitable dry -land; and the sixth day stocks it with the animals and man. The idea of -this arrangement is, on the face of it, literary and logical. It is -chosen for its comprehensive, all-inclusive completeness. To declare of -every part and atom of Nature that it is the making of God, the author -passes in procession the great elements or spheres which the human mind -everywhere conceives as making up our world, and pronounces them one by -one God's creation. Then he makes an inventory of their entire furniture -and contents, and asserts that all these likewise are the work of God. -For his purpose—which is to declare the universal Creatorship of God and -the uniform creaturehood of all Nature—the order and classification are -unsurpassed and unsurpassable. With a masterly survey, that marks -everything and omits nothing, he sweeps the whole category of created -existence, collects the scattered leaves into six congruous groups, -encloses each in a compact and uniform binding, and then on the back of -the numbered and ordered volumes stamps the great title and declaration -that they are one and all, in every jot, and tittle, and shred, and -fragment, the works of their Almighty Author, and of none beside. - -With the figment of a supposed physical order vanishes also the -difficulty of the days. Their use is not literal, but ideal and -pictorial. That the author was not thinking of actual days of -twenty-four hours, with a matter-of-fact dawning of morning and -darkening of evening, is evident from the fact that he does not bring -the sun (the lord of the day) into action till three have already -elapsed, and later on he exhibits the sun as itself the product of one -of them. Neither is it possible that the days stand for geological -epochs, for by no wrenching and racking can they be made to correspond. -Moreover, it is quite certain that the author would have revolted -against the expansion of his timeless acts of creative omnipotence into -long ages of slow evolution, since the key-note of the literary -significance and sublimity of his delineation is its exhibition of the -created result following in instantaneous sequence on the creative fiat. -The actual meaning underlying the use of the days is suggested in the -rubrical character of the refrain, as it appears rounding off and ending -each fresh stage of the narration—"And there was evening, and there was -morning—day one, day two, day three," and so on. The great sections of -Nature are to be made pass in a panorama of pictures, and to be -presented, each for itself, as the distinct act of God. It is desirable -to enclose each of these pictures in a frame, clear-cut and complete. -The natural unit and division of human toil is a day. In the words of -the poet— - - "Each morning sees some task begin; - Each evening sees it close." - -In Old Testament parlance, any great achievement or outstanding event is -spoken of as "a day." A decisive battle is known as "the day of Midian." -God's intervention in human history is "the day of the Lord." When the -author of Genesis i. would present the several elements of Nature as one -and all the outcome of God's creative energy, the successive links of -the chain are depicted as days. Where we should say "End of Part I.," he -says, "And there was evening, and there was morning—day one." Moreover, -it is needless to point out how finely, from this presentation of the -timeless fiats of creation in a framework of days, emerges the majestic -truth that not in the dead order of nature, nor in the mere movement of -the stars, but in the nature and will of God, Who made man in His image, -must be sought the ultimate origin, sanction, and archetype of that -salutary law which divides man's life on earth into fixed periods of -toil, rounded and crowned by a Sabbath of repose. - -If this understanding of the structural arrangement of the chapter be -correct, we have reached an important and significant conclusion -regarding the author's method and design. He does not suppose himself to -be giving the matter-of-fact sequence of creation's stages. His interest -does not lie in that direction. His sole concern is to declare that -Nature, in bulk and in detail, is the manufacture of God. His plan does -not include, but _ipso facto_ excludes, conformity with the material -order and process. He writes as a theologian, and not as a scientist or -historian. Starting from this fixed point, let us note the outstanding -features and engrossing interests of his delineation. We shall find them -in the phrases that, like a refrain, run through the narrative and form -its key-notes, and finally in the resultant impression left by its -general tenour and purport. - -The recurrent key-notes of the narrative are three—God's naming His -works, His declaration of their goodness, and the swift formula of -achievement—"and it was so." The naming is not a childish triviality, -nor a mere graphic touch or poetical ornament. It does not mean that God -attached to His works the vocables by which in Hebrew they are known. -Its significance appears in the definition of function into which in the -later episodes it is expanded. Name in Hebrew speech is equivalent to -Nature. When the story pictures God as naming His works, it vividly -brings into relief the fixed law and order that pervade the universe. -And by the picturesque—if you will, anthropomorphic—fashion of the -statement, it attains an effect beyond science or metaphysics, inasmuch -as it irresistibly portrays this order of Nature as originating in the -personal act of God, and directly inspired by and informed with His own -effluent love of what is good, and true, and orderly. Thus the great -truth of the fixity of Nature is presented, not as a fact of science or -a quality of matter, but as rooted in and reflecting a majestic -attribute of the character of God. The interest is not scientific, but -religious. In like fashion, the unfailing declaration of goodness, -though it might seem a small detail, is replete with practical and -religious significance. The Pagan doctrines of creation are all more or -less contaminated by dualistic or Manichean conceptions. The good -Creator is baffled, thwarted, and impeded by a brutish or malignant -tendency in matter, which on the one hand mars the perfection of -creation, and on the other hand inserts in the physical order of things -elements of hostility and malevolence to man. It is a thought that at -once degrades the Creator, and denudes Nature, as man's abode, of its -beauty, comfort, and kindliness. How different is it in the Bible -picture of creation! This God has outside Himself no rival, experiences -no resistance nor contradiction, knows no failure nor imperfection in -His handiwork; but what He wishes He wills, and what He commands is -done, and the result answers absolutely to the intention of His wisdom, -love, and power. In its relation to its Maker the work is free from any -flaw. In its relation to man it contains nothing malevolent or -maleficent. It is good. And once again, mark with what skill in the -delineation the light is thrown, not on the work, but on the Worker, and -the goodness of creation becomes but a mirror to drink in and flash -forth the infinite wisdom, might, and goodness of its Divine Maker. Here -also the interest is not metaphysical, but practical and religious. A -third commanding aim of the narrative appears in the significant and -striking use of the formula "and it was so." With absolute uniformity -the Divine fiat is immediately followed by the physical fulfilment. -There is no painting of the process, no delineation of slow and gradual -operations of material forces. Not once is there any mention of -secondary causes, nor the faintest suggestion of intermediate agencies. -The Creator wills; the thing is. In this exclusion from the scene of all -subordinate studies there is artistic design—profound design. The -picture becomes one, not of scenery, but of action. It is not a -landscape, but a portrait. The canvas contains but two solitary objects, -the Creator and His work. The effect is to throw out of sight methods, -materials, processes, and to throw into intense relief the act and the -Actor. And the supreme and ultimate result on the beholder's mind is to -produce a quite overpowering and majestic impression of the glorious -personality of the Creator. - -Here we have reached the sovereign theme of the narrative, and have -detected the false note that is struck at the outset of every attempt to -interpret it as in any degree or fashion a physical record of creation. -In very deed and truth the concern of the chapter is not creation, but -the character, being, and glory of the Almighty Maker. If we excerpt -God's speeches and the rubrical formulas, the chapter consists of one -continuous chain of verbs, instinct with life and motion, linked on in -swift succession, and with hardly an exception, the subject of every one -of them is God. It is one long adoring delineation of God loving, -yearning, willing, working in creation. Its interest is not in the work, -but the Worker. Its subject is not creation, but the Creator. What it -gives is not a world, but a God. It is not geology; it is theology. - -Why do we so assert, accentuate, and reiterate this to be the central -theme of the chapter? Because through the scientific trend and bias of -modern inquiry the essential design of the chapter has got warped, -cramped, and twisted till its majestic features have been pushed almost -clean out of view, and all attention is concentrated on one trivial, -mean, and unreal point in its physiognomy. Its claim to be accounted an -integral part of a real revelation is made to hinge on its magical -anticipation of, and detailed correspondence with, the changeful -theories of modern geology. The idea is, in our humble but decided -opinion, dangerous, baseless, and indefensible. The chapter may not -forestall one single scientific discovery. It may not tally with one -axiom or dogma of geology. Nevertheless, it remains a unique, -undeniable, and glorious monument of revelation, second only in worth -and splendour to the record of God's incarnation of His whole heart and -being in the person of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer. Consider -what this chapter has actually accomplished in the world, and set that -against all theories of what it ought to be doing. For our knowledge of -the true God and the realisation of mankind's higher life it has done a -work beside which any question of correspondence or non-correspondence -with science sinks into unmentionable insignificance. Place side by side -with it the chiefest and best of the Pagan cosmogonies, and appreciate -its sweetness, purity, and elevation over against their grotesqueness, -their shallowness, and their degradation alike of the human and the -Divine. Realise the world whose darkness they re-echo, the world into -which emerged this radiant picture of God's glory and man's dignity, and -think what it has done for that poor world. It found heaven filled with -a horde of gods, monstrous, impure, and horrible, gigantic embodiments -of brute force and lust, or at best cold abstractions of cosmical -principles, whom men could fear, but not love, honour, or revere. It -found man in a world dark and unhomelike, bowing down in abject worship -to beasts and birds, and stocks and stones, trembling with craven -cowardice before the elements and forces of Nature, enslaved in a -degrading bondage of physical superstition, fetishism, and polytheism. -With one sweep of inspired might the truth enshrined in this chapter has -changed all that, wherever it has come. It has cleansed the heaven of -those foul gods and monstrous worships, and leaves men on bended knees -in the presence of the one true God, their Father in heaven, who made -the world for their use, and them for Himself, and whose tender mercies -are over all His works. From moral and mental slavery it has emancipated -man, for it has taken the physical objects of his fear and worship, and -dashing them down from their usurped pre-eminence, has put them all -under his feet, to be his ministers and servants in working out on earth -his eternal destiny. These conceptions of God, Man, and Nature have been -the regeneration of humanity; the springs of progress in science, -invention, and civilisation; the charter of the dignity of human life, -and the foundation of liberty, virtue, and religion. The man who, in -view of such a record, can ask with anxious concern whether a revelation -carrying in its bosom such a wealth of heavenly truth does not also have -concealed in its shoe a bird's-eye view of geology must surely be a man -blind to all literary likelihood, destitute of any sense of congruity -and the general fitness of things, and cannot but seem to us as one that -mocks. The chapter's title to be reckoned a revelation rests on no such -magical and recondite quality, but is stamped four-square on the face of -its essential character and contents. Whence could this absolutely -unique conception of God, in His relation to the world and man, have -been derived, except from God Himself? Whence into a world so dark, and -void, and formless did it emerge fair and radiant? There is no answer -but one. God said, "Let there be light; and there was light." - -The specific revelation of the 1st chapter of Genesis must be sought in -its moral and spiritual contents. But may there not be, in addition, -worked into its material framework, some anticipation of scientific -truths that have since come to light? What were the good of it, when the -Divine message could be wholly and better expressed by the sole use of -popular language, intelligible in every age and by all classes? Is it -dignified to depict the Spirit of Inspiration standing on tiptoe, and -straining to speak, across the long millenniums and over the head of the -world's childhood, to the wise and learned scientists of the nineteenth -century? It is never the manner of Scripture to anticipate natural -research or to forestall human industry. God means men to discover -physical truth from the great book of Nature. What truth of science, -what mechanical invention, what beneficent discovery in medicine, -agriculture, navigation, or any other art or industry, has ever been -gleaned from study of the Bible? Not one. These things lie outside the -scope of revelation, and God is the God of order. Moreover, in Scripture -itself the framework of the chapter is not counted dogmatic nor -uniformly adhered to. In the 2nd chapter of Genesis, in Job, in the -Psalms, and in Proverbs there are manifold deviations and variations. -The material setting is handled with the freedom applicable to the -pictorial dress of a parable, wherein things transcendental are depicted -in earthly symbols. In truth, this is essentially the character of the -composition. We have seen that the delineation, classification, and -arrangement are not scientific and not philosophical, but popular, -practical, and religious. It is everywhere manifest that the interest is -not in the process of creation, but in the fact of its origination in -God. While science lingers on the physical operation, Genesis designedly -overleaps it, for the same reason that the Gospels do not deign to -suggest the material substratum of Christ's miracles. Creation is a -composite process. It begins in the spiritual world, and terminates in -the material. It is in its first stage supernatural, in its second -natural. It originates in God desiring, decreeing, issuing formative -force; it proceeds in matter moving, cohering, moulding, and shaping. -Revelation and science regard it from opposite ends. The one looks at it -from its beginning, the other from its termination. The Bible shows us -God creating; geology shows us the world being created. Scripture deals -solely with the first stage, science solely with the second. Where -Scripture stops, there science first begins. Contradiction, conflict, -collision are impossible. In the words of the Duke of Argyll, "The 1st -chapter of Genesis stands alone among the traditions of mankind in the -wonderful simplicity and grandeur of its words. Specially -remarkable—miraculous, it really seems to me—is that character of -reserve which leaves open to reason all that reason may be able to -attain. The meaning of these words seems always to be a meaning ahead of -science, not because it anticipates the results of science, but because -it is independent of them, and runs, as it were, round the outer margin -of all possible discovery." - -May we not safely extend this finding to the entire Bible, and on these -lines define its relation to modern thought? Its supernatural revelation -is purely and absolutely ethical and spiritual. In questions physical -and metaphysical it has no concern and utters no voice. With the -achievements of science it never competes, nor can it be contradicted by -them. It encourages its researches, ennobles its aspirations, crowns and -completes its discoveries. Into the dead body of physical truth it puts -the living soul of faith in the Divine Author. Like the blue heaven -surrounding and spanning over the green earth, revelation over-arches -and encircles science. Within that infinite embrace, beneath that -spacious dome, drawing from its azure depths light, and life, and -fructifying warmth, science, unhampered and unhindered, works out its -majestic mission of blessing to men and glory to God. Collision there -can be none till the earth strike the sky. The message of the Bible is a -message from God's heart to ours. It cannot be proved by reason, nor can -it be disproved. It appeals, not to sight, but to faith, and belongs to -the realm of spirit, and not to that of sense. Science may have much to -alter in our notions of its earthly embodiment, but its essential -contents it cannot touch. - -That is not theory, but reality. It is not philosophy, but life; not -flesh, but spirit. It is the living, breathing, feeling love of God -become articulate. It needs no evidence of sense. In the immutable -instincts of the human heart it has its attestation, and in a life of -responsive love it finds an unfailing verification. It rests on a basis -no sane criticism can undermine nor solid science shake. Happy the man -whose faith has found this fixed foundation, and whose heart possesses -this adamantine certainty: he shall be likened "unto a wise man, which -built his house upon a rock: and the rain descended, and the floods -came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for -it was founded upon a rock." - - -Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. - - - - - _In 8vo, with Etched Portrait by Manesse. Price 12s._ - - JAMES MACDONELL, - JOURNALIST. - - By W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D. - - -Daily Telegraph. - -"Sincere, sympathetic, loyal, and artistic.... This masterly -monograph." - - -Graphic. - -"James Macdonell was one of the most accomplished and brilliant -journalists of the day.... We have a full record of Macdonell's -life, and it forms one of the most interesting of recent books of -biography." - - -Academy. - -"An admirable portrait, ... so carefully and so judiciously -written that the example it sets is likely to be followed." - - -Scotsman. - -"An admirably written life." - - -Star. - -"The story is told by Mr. Nicoll with admirable perfection and -a real sense of the value of such a record." - - -Church Times. - -"The biographer has performed his task with eminent success." - - -Pall Mall Gazette. - -"In many ways an attractive biography." - - -Spectator. - -"Interesting and valuable." - - -Guardian. - -"We are likely to have, for some time to come, no more light -thrown upon the mysteries of the 'leading journal' than there is -given in this account of James Macdonell.... The life of him -which Mr. Nicoll has given to the world is full of interest, and we -lay it down with sincere regret for the brilliant career which was -cut short midway." - - -LONDON: HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27, PATERNOSTER ROW. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir -and Sermons, by William Gray Elmslie - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK W. G. 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G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir and -Sermons, by William Gray Elmslie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir and Sermons - -Author: William Gray Elmslie - -Editor: W. Robertson Nicoll - A. N. MacNicoll - -Release Date: September 24, 2019 [EBook #60348] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK W. G. ELMSLIE: MEMOIR AND SERMONS *** - - - - -Produced by MFR, Chris Pinfield and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div id="tnote"> - -<p>Transcriber's Note:</p> - -<p>Obvious printer errors have been corrected silently.</p> - -<p>Correspondence included in the 'Memoir' has been set in smaller font.</p> - -<p>A notice of another book by one of the editors has been shifted to the end.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="411" height="700" alt="frontis" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p>Yours faithfully,<br /> - W. G. Elmslie</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="front"> - -<h1>PROFESSOR W. G. ELMSLIE, D.D.:<br /> -<i>MEMOIR AND SERMONS</i>.</h1> - -<p><span style="font-size:50%">EDITED BY</span><br /> -W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.,<br /> -<span style="font-size:50%">AND</span><br /> -A. N. MACNICOLL.</p> - -<p><span style="font-size:75%"><i>SECOND EDITION.</i></span></p> - -<p><span style="font-size:60%"><b>London:</b></span><br /> -HODDER AND STOUGHTON,<br /> -<span style="font-size:75%">27, PATERNOSTER ROW.</span></p> - -<p><span style="font-size:50%">MDCCCXC.</span></p> - -<p><span style="font-size:50%">Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., -London and Aylesbury.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr /> - -<h2>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> - -<p class="drop-cap">MY share in this book has been the writing of the -brief introductory Memoir, with the exception -of the pages relating to Regent Square and Willesden. -These have been contributed by Mr. A. N. Macnicoll, -who has also given me the benefit of his advice throughout. -I have also to acknowledge the kindness of -Principal Dykes, who has read the proofs, and of the -friends who have, amid pressing engagements, enriched -the volume with their reminiscences. The many correspondents -who sent help of various kinds are warmly -thanked. There was abundant material for a larger -biography, and some of it will be utilised in another -way. But it was thought desirable that the memorial -volume should be issued at a moderate price, and that -it should, so far as possible, consist of Professor -Elmslie's own work.</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right2">W. R. N.</div> -</div> - -<p class="gap-above">For the selections from Dr. Elmslie's sermons which -are contained in this volume I am entirely responsible. -These sermons were seldom fully written out, and some -of them required considerable amplification. In every -case the thought of the writer has been rigidly preserved, -and the wording has been left, as far as -possible, untouched. In cases where I have had the -benefit of short-hand reports I have, with the slightest -alteration, printed the sermons as they were delivered. -Two "Sunday Readings" are reprinted from <i>Good -Words</i>, and an article on Genesis from the <i>Contemporary -Review</i>.</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right2">A. N. M.</div> -</div> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table class="toc" summary="ToC"> - -<tr> - <td style="width:2.5em"></td> - <td></td> - <td style="width:2.5em" class="pag"><small>PAGE</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">MEMOIR</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap"><br />SERMONS</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">I.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">CHRIST AT THE DOOR</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and - open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he - with Me."—<span class="smc">Rev.</span> iii. 20.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">II.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE DARK ENIGMA OF DEATH</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%"><span - class="smc">St. John</span> xi.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">III.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE STORY OF DORCAS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%"><span - class="smc">Acts</span> ix. 36-43.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">IV.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">UNFULFILLED CHRISTIAN WORK</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"And unto the angel of the Church in Sardis write; These things saith - He that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know thy - works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. Be - watchful and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: - for I have not found thy works perfect before God."—<span class="smc">Rev.</span> iii. - 1, 2.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">Reading the last clause a little more literally will more fully bring - out the meaning: "For I have found no works of thine fulfilled before - my God."—R.V.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">V.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">A LESSON IN CHRISTIAN HELP</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the - [en]feeble[d] knees; and make straight [smooth] paths for [with] your - feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it - rather be healed [or, in order that that which is lame may not be - caused to go astray, but may rather be healed]."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> xii. 12, 13.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">VI.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">JOSEPH'S FAITH</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%">(<i>Preached on - Sunday Evening, October 20th, 1889, in<br /> - St. John's Wood Presbyterian Church.</i>)</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the - children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his - bones."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> xi. 22.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">VII.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE BRAZEN SERPENT</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"He [Hezekiah] removed the high places, and brake the images, and cut - down the groves, and brake in pieces the brasen serpent that Moses had - made: for unto those days the children of Israel did burn incense to - it: and he called it Nehushtan."—<span class="smc">2 Kings</span> xviii. 4.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">VIII.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE GRADATIONS OF DOUBT</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%"><span - class="smc">Psalm</span> lxxiii.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">IX.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE STORY OF QUEEN ESTHER</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%">(<i>Preached in - Balham Congregational Church, on Sunday<br />Evening, August 11th, 1889.</i>)</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%"><span - class="smc">Esther</span> iv. 13-17.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">X.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE EXAMPLE OF THE PROPHETS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in - the name of the Lord, for an example."—<span class="smc">James</span> v. 10.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XI.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE MAKING OF A PROPHET</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%">(<i>Preached at - Nottingham, before the Congregational<br />Union of England - and Wales, on Monday Evening,<br />October 8th, 1888.</i>)</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord - sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and His train overspreading - the temple floor. Seraphs were poised above, each with six wings, with - twain veiling his face, with twain veiling his feet, and with twain - hovering. And those on one side sang in responsive chorus with those on - the other side, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. The - fulness of the whole earth is His glory.' And the foundations of the - threshold trembled at the sound of that singing, and the house was - filled with incense smoke. Then cried I, 'Woe is me! for I am a dead - man; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a - people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of - hosts.' Then flew one of the seraphs unto me, having in his hand a - burning ember, which with a tongs he had taken from off the incense - altar; and he touched my mouth with it, and said, 'Lo, this hath - touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin - purged.' Thereupon I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 'Whom shall I - send, and who will go for us?' Then I cried, 'See me; send - me.'"—<span class="smc">Isaiah</span> vi. 1-8 (<i>annotated</i>).</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XII.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">FOR AND AGAINST CHRIST</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"He that is not with Me is against Me: and he that - gathereth not with Me scattereth."—<span class="smc">Luke</span> xi. 23.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"He that is not against us is on our part."—<span - class="smc">Mark</span> ix. 40.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XIII.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE PROPHECY OF NATURE</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the - stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man, that Thou art mindful of - him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For Thou hast made him - a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and - honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy hands; - Thou hast put all things under his feet."—<span class="smc">Psalm</span> viii. 3-6.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"But now we see not yet all things put under - Him."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> ii. 8.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XIV.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">CHRISTIAN GIVING</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:80%">(<i>Preached in - Willesden Presbyterian Church, September 24th, 1882.</i>)</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting - of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to - God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. - Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always - abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your - labour is not in vain in the Lord."—<span class="smc">1 Cor.</span> xv. 55-8.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="addl">"Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to - the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the week - let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, - that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, whomsoever ye - shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your - liberality unto Jerusalem."—<span class="smc">1 Cor.</span> xvi. 1-3.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XV.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">OUR LORD'S TREATMENT OF ERRING FRIENDS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:90%"><span - class="smc">Sunday Readings.</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">I.</td> - <td>Read Ps. cxxxviii., and John xiii. 1-17.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Self-asserting.</span>—John xiii. 4, 5.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">II.</td> - <td>Read Job xvi., and Matt. xxvi. 31-46.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Unsympathetic.</span>—John xiii. 1-3.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">III.</td> - <td>Read 2 Sam. xxiv., and John xxi. 15-23. - <span class="smc">The Wilful.</span>—John xiii. 6-10.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">IV.</td> - <td>Read 1 Sam. xxiv., and Luke xxii. 47-62.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Faithless.</span>—John xiii. 11.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">V.</td> - <td>Read Isa. xl., and 1 Cor. xiii.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Secret of Magnanimity.</span>—John xiii. 12-17.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XVI.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">A HYMN OF HEART'S EASE</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap" style="font-size:90%"><span - class="smc">Sunday Readings.</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td style="font-size:90%">"Lord, my heart is not haughty,<br /> - Nor mine eyes lofty:<br /> - Neither do I exercise myself in great matters,<br /> - Or in things too high for me.<br /> - Surely I have behaved<br /> - And quieted myself;<br /> - As a child that is weaned of its mother,<br /> - My soul is even as a weaned child.<br /> - Let Israel hope in the Lord<br /> - From henceforth and for ever."—Ps. cxxxi.</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">I.</td> - <td>Read Job xxvi., and 1 Cor. xiii.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Source of Unrest.</span><br /> - "Things too high for me."</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">II.</td> - <td>Read Ps. xxxvii., and Matt. xi.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Secret of Rest.</span><br /> - "Lord my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty."</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">III.</td> - <td>Read Ps. lxxiii. and Heb. xii.<br /> - <span class="smc">Calm after Storm.</span><br /> - "Surely I have behaved and quieted myself."</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">IV.</td> - <td>Read Ps. xlvii. and Phil. ii.<br /> - <span class="smc">Victory by Surrender.</span><br /> - "As a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned - child."</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="sunread">V.</td> - <td>Read Gen. xxxii. and Rev. vii.<br /> - <span class="smc">The Recompense of Faith.</span><br /> - "Let Israel hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever."</td> - <td></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="3" class="chap">XVII.</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="title">THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">{1}</a></div> - -<h2>MEMOIR.</h2> - -<p class="drop-cap">ALTHOUGH Dr. Elmslie was not destined to a long -career, and died with the greater purposes of -his life work almost entirely unfulfilled, very few men -in the Nonconformist churches of Great Britain were -better known and loved. The expectations of many in -his native Scotland were fixed on him from the first; -in England no preacher of his years had a larger or -more enthusiastic following. Among students of the -Old Testament he was beginning to be known as a -master in his own subject, and as one likely to accomplish -much in the reconciliation of criticism and faith. -Add to this that he possessed the rarer charm of an -almost unique personal magnetism—that many were -attached to him by the chain which is not quickly -broken, the bond of spiritual affinity, and it becomes -necessary to apologise only for the imperfections, not -for the existence, of this memorial.</p> - -<p class="gap-above"><span class="smc">William Gray Elmslie</span> was born in the Free Church -Manse of Insch, Aberdeenshire, October 5th, 1848, the -second son of the Rev. William Elmslie, M.A., and -May Cruickshank, his wife. Writing to his parents -from Berlin more than twenty years after, he says, -"How thankful I ought to be that I was born in dear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">{2}</a></span> -old Scotland, and in the humble little Free Church manse -of Insch!" His father was famous for his shrewd, -homely, genial wisdom. He was a native of Aberdeen, -and had the strong sense and quick perception for which -Aberdonians are known. By no means without the -nobler enthusiasms of Christianity, he had shared in -the fervour of the Disruption movement, and was the -popular and successful minister of a congregation large -for the district, and including many members of earnest -Christian principle. Mr. Elmslie was the father and -counsellor of the whole parish; his advice was sought -by members of all Churches, and cheerfully given. If -there was any danger of his practical nature becoming -somewhat too hard and worldly, the influence of his -wife was a corrective. Dr. Elmslie's mother—a beautiful -and accomplished woman—was a religious enthusiast. -"I recognised," writes her son, from the New -College, Edinburgh, "mamma's review in the <i>Free -Press</i> by the words 'wrestling believing prayer.'" They -were indeed characteristic, and it was the rare union of -mystic elevation and warmth with perfect comprehension -of ordinary life that gave Dr. Elmslie his separate -and commanding place among the teachers of his time. -The austerity, the somewhat chilly rigour which characterised -manse life in the Free Church were not -found at Insch. The children never suffered from the -want of affection—what the French call <i>le besoin d'être -aimé</i>. All the best was brought out in them, and in -the case of our subject the brightness and sweetness -of his disposition procured for him more than ordinary -endearments. Two lovingly preserved letters in a large -round child's hand give a better idea of the home than -anything I can say. The first describes a visit to -Huntly and the home of Duncan Matheson, the great -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">{3}</a></span> -evangelist, who did yeoman service in the Crimean -War.</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1"><span class="smc">"Insch</span>, <i>July 14th, 1856</i>.</div> -</div> - - <p>"<span class="smc">My dear Mamma</span>,—I am always glad when I hear that you are all - keeping well. I have such a long string of news that I do not know - where to begin, for I was at Huntly, and saw so many things there. I - will now tell you the most of what I saw. I first saw the Bogie, and a - few sheep being washed in it. When I arrived at Huntly, and had walked - a short distance, Mr. Matheson and I met his dog Dash. When I got to - the house I was first shown the Bugle, then the Drum, and three swords; - one was broken after killing five Rusians, and the man who had used it - killed. And then I saw the Rifle, and fired it off, though without - shot. When I got out of the house I went to a shop where I bought a gun - and Almonds, and on our way home Miss Matheson and I called on the - Lawsons, and brought Johny and Jamie home, where we met William Brown, - with his Aunt Mrs. Douglas, waiting us. When we went into the house - there were two pistols which William and I took, and frightened some - boys with them. I saw a piece of the rock of Gibralter. I saw a piece - of wood made into stone, and two teeth—one a shark's, and the other an - Alligator's—hardened into stone. There were medals and coins of the - various countries of Europe, a piece of a church in Sevastopool, and a - thing which the Russian soldiers wear on their coats. I also saw a - brush which the Turks use for brushing themselves. I also saw an idol - and a great many pictures of the Virgin Mary. I saw a small - picture-book with all the different priests of Rome. Our Rabbits are - all quite well and growing. I am your affᵗᵉ Son,</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right1"><span class="smc">"William Gray Elmslie</span>."</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">{4}</a></div> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"<span class="smc">My dear Mama</span>,—I am glad to hear that Papa is keeping better. - How I would like to be with you, and see the beautiful scenery and the - many rabbits. Tell our cousins to come here some time soon, and let - them see our rabbits if they will come. I send some Heather and some - broom which we got on the hill beside John Davison, and took tea with - him. I enclose what I got down of the forenoon sermon. I am your affᵗᵉ - son,</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right1"><span class="smc">"W. G. Elmslie</span>."</div> -</div> - -<p>P.S.—We sometimes receive to small dinners, but sometimes pretty good.</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right1"><span class="smc">"W. G. Elmslie</span>."</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p>The religious forces of the time were those of that -Evangelicalism which has been the base of so many -powerful characters, even among those who have afterwards -rejected it, like Cardinal Newman and George -Eliot. These were reinforced by the influences of the -Disruption, then at their strongest. It was something -to be born at such a time, a time when, to use the words -of Lacordaire, there was a noble union of heroic character -and memorable achievement. The pecuniary -poverty and spiritual opulence of Scotland, on which -Carlyle has said so much, were then seen at their best. -If a cautious, reticent race, impatient of extravagant -action and unmeasured speech, is to be found anywhere, -it is among the peasants of Aberdeenshire; but when -possessed and stirred by religious feeling they are -capable of unyielding firmness and unstinted devotion. -These qualities were remarkably brought out at the -Disruption. The religious life of New England, pictured -by Harriet Beecher Stowe, must have been -similar in many things, and Dr. George Macdonald, -who was born in Huntly, a few miles from Insch, has -rendered some aspects with incomparable beauty and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">{5}</a></span> -tenderness in his first works. The preaching was -intensely theological. The great highways of truth -were trodden and retrodden. Texts were largely -taken from the Epistles, and the doctrines of grace -were accurately and thoroughly expounded. Freshness, -style, and the other qualities now held essential -to popular sermons were unknown. But the preaching -did its work, nevertheless, as Dr. Macdonald says, -because it <i>was</i> preaching—the rare speech of a man to -his fellows, whereby they know that he is in his inmost -heart a believer. As the result, every conscience -hung out the pale or the red flag. Dr. Macdonald -complains of the inharmonious singing, but others -will testify with Mrs. Stowe that the slow, rude, and -primitive rendering of the metrical Psalms excited them -painfully. "It brought over one, like a presence, the -sense of the infinite and the eternal, the yearning, -and the fear, and the desire of the poor finite being, so -ignorant and so helpless." Not less impressive was -the piety to be found among the peasants. There were -David Elginbrods in their ranks, men among whom -you felt in the presence of the higher natures of the -world—and women delivered from lonely, craving -solitude by the Eternal Love that had broken through -and ended the dark and melancholy years. These were -to be found not only among the prominent Church -members, but among others willing to be unknown, -to be stones sunk in the foundation of the spiritual -building. Under such influences the boy became a -Christian almost unconsciously. There was no crisis -in his life, that I can trace. When a mere boy he -writes to his parents, during their absence from Insch, -that he had conducted family worship according to -their desire. "It required a great deal of previous -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">{6}</a></span> -thought and prayer, too, for I have found that is useful, -and not study only, in preparing for the service of -God. Yet I have good cause to be glad and thankful -that I am able to do it; and I feel it a real relief and -privilege to commit all to the care of God." At this -time he visited an aged member of his father's Church, -and prayed with her. He repeats with pride the compliment -paid him in return, "Ye ken hoo to be kind -and couthy wi' a puir auld body." His faith and vision -grew clearer, but in cruder shape those thoughts were -his from the beginning that haunted him to the very -end.</p> - -<p>The intellectual atmosphere of the place was much -more quickening than might be thought. Insch is a -cosy little village enough, and though not in itself -beautiful, has picturesque bits near it. But even in -summer sunshine it can hardly be called lively, and in -winter, when the snow is piled for weeks on hill and field, -and the leaden-coloured clouds refuse to part, it could -not well look duller. But the Free Church manses of the -district were full of eager inquiry. The ministers were -educated men, graduates of the University, and in -some cases had swept its prizes. Their ambition was -satisfied in the service of Christ. There was a noble -contentment with their lot which it is inspiring to think -of; but they cherished a righteous ambition for their -children, and spared no toil and no self-denial to open -the way for them. From three Free Church manses in -that neighbourhood, all at first included in the same -Presbytery, have gone forth men whose names are -familiar to the English people. From the manse of Keig, -Professor Robertson Smith; from Rhynie, Mr. A. M. -Mackay, of Uganda, the true successor to Livingstone, -whose early death is announced as these sheets are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">{7}</a></span> -passing through the press; and from Insch, Professor -Elmslie. The educational facilities of the district were -of almost ideal excellence. The parish teachers, when -salaries were increased by certain wise and liberal -bequests, were almost without exception accomplished -scholars. They took pride in a promising pupil, and -would cheerfully work extra hours to ensure his success. -Their fees were sufficiently moderate, one pound being -enough to cover all expenses for a year. At these -schools a boy might remain till he had reached the age, -say, of fourteen or fifteen, when he might go to Aberdeen -to compete for a scholarship, or "bursary" as it -was called. Of these, perhaps forty were offered every -year, varying from £35 a year for the University -course, downwards. It was thought wiser to go for -the last year or two to the Grammar School in Aberdeen, -to receive the last polish; but often lads went in from -their native glens, and defeated all competitors. Elmslie -was trained at first in the Free Church school at Insch, -then at the parish school, under the Rev. James -McLachlan. He then proceeded to the Aberdeen -Grammar School, where he was two years, under the -Rev. William Barrack, a teacher of rare attainments and -enthusiasm. He carried off one of the highest honours, -and in 1864 entered the University of Aberdeen.</p> - -<p>It is, or was, the ambition of every hopeful youth in -the North to wear the student's gown. "Oh that God -would spare me to wear the red cloakie!" said John -Duncan, afterwards the well-known Professor of Hebrew -in the New College, Edinburgh, when weakened by an -early illness. The life of the Aberdeen student has -never, perhaps, been rendered with sufficient fidelity, -save in "Alec Forbes," and Dr. Walter Smith's "Borland -Hall," and it may have changed in some respects -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">{8}</a></span> -since Elmslie's time. Then it was emphatically a period -of plain living and hard work. Eight shillings a week -sufficed to cover many a student's expenses for board -and lodging, amounting to less than £10 for the -twenty weeks of the session, and the summer was -spent at home. The spirit of the place was democratic -in the extreme. There were a few students who came -out of wealthy families, but any claim to respect on -this ground would have been fiercely resented. George -Macdonald tells of an aristocrat among the students -condemned and sentenced by a meeting presided over by -"the pale-faced son of a burly ploughman." The high -spirits of youth would at times break out in coarse and -even ferocious excesses, but these were rare, and the -characteristic of the place was a limitless persistency of -application. Most of the men felt that this was their -one chance. If they could distinguish themselves, there -were scholarships to be had which would open the path -to Oxford or Cambridge, or give them a fair chance in -other fields of life. Some yielded to temptation, and -became wrecks; others, after a period of obscuration, -recovered themselves; a few soon abandoned the quest -for University honours, and busied themselves with -other lines of reading and study; but Elmslie set -himself, without flinching or turning aside, to his task. -Evil did not lure him. There was no stamp of moral -<i>défaillance</i> on that clear brow. His watchful parents -were still with him, for they set up another home in -Aberdeen, and were constantly with their children. It -ought, perhaps, to be mentioned that Elmslie's father -was an enthusiastic total abstainer, in days when the -practice was quite unfashionable, and in many parts of -the country entirely unknown. In this his son warmly -sympathised, maintaining the principle of abstinence to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">{9}</a></span> -the end of his life, and carrying out the practice even -during his studies in Germany. He wrote home, when -assistant in Regent Square, "Glad you are getting on -so famously in the temperance line, and do hope it -will have a permanent and wide influence." But the -secret of his University success was his indefatigable -labour at the prescribed tasks. Although he -might well be termed <i>l'esprit soudain</i>, he was capable of -the long-continued and daily application which belongs -to the rare union of ardour and patience. He had the -characteristic of his countrymen—nothing could daunt -him from fighting the battle out. His success accordingly -was great and growing. In a class which numbered, -perhaps, an unusual proportion of brilliant men, he -steadily made his way to the front. He distinguished -himself by taking prizes in almost every department of -study, specially excelling in mathematics, and closed -his career by carrying off the gold medal awarded by -the Aberdeen Town Council to the first student of the -year, in April, 1868. The victory was not gained without -a price. From the first his studies brought on -some occasional headaches, and the first triumph resulted -in a serious illness, which his wise and skilful -physician, Dr. Davidson, of Wartle, warned him would -reappear twenty years later—an ominous prophecy, -which was but too exactly fulfilled. The chief intellectual -force in the Northern University at that time -and long after was Dr. Alexander Bain, the Professor -of Logic. In after life Dr. Elmslie frequently referred -to his influence. But other chairs were also occupied -by powerful men. Geddes infected many with his own -enthusiasm for Greek literature; Fuller and Thomson -were admirably efficient teachers of mathematics; and to -name no more, "Jeems" Nicol, the Professor of Natural -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">{10}</a></span> -History, with his hoarse voice, his homely kindness, -and his thorough knowledge of his subject, was a universal -favourite. Thomson was, perhaps, the most -original and cynical character of them all, and his dry -wit had a great attraction for Elmslie.</p> - -<p>The Rev. Thomas Nicol, of Tolbooth, Edinburgh, a -distinguished minister of the Church of Scotland and -one of the most outstanding of Professor Elmslie's classfellows, -wrote thus to his father: "Since Dr. Elmslie's -death I have often gone back to the days, just twenty-five -years ago, when we first met at the bursary -competition, and in the Bageant class at King's College, -Aberdeen. Even from the first he was one of the most -winsome and attractive members of the class, full of -fun and mirth, with a perennial smile on his beautiful -and finely formed face, and with a cheery word for -everybody. I can see him to-day, with his neat Highland -cape and the college gown over it, coming through -the quadrangle, as distinctly as if it were yesterday, and -it is easier for me preserving that picture because we -have met so seldom of recent years. He is associated -in my mind with another of our classfellows, who -achieved distinction early, and early met an heroic and -tragic death—I mean Mr. William Jenkyns, C.I.E., who -died with Sir Louis Cavagnari, at Cabul. Your son -and he were unlike in some things, but in delicacy of -features, and expressiveness of countenance, and slimness -of figure one associates them at once together. -When I was helping to get up funds for the memorial of -Mr. Jenkyns now in the University Library at Aberdeen -I well remember the cheerfulness with which Mr. -Elmslie contributed, and the kindly words of affection -and esteem which accompanied his contribution. Of -both it might most truly be said that 'being made -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">{11}</a></span> -perfect, in a short time they fulfilled a long time.' -Like others of my classfellows, Mr. Bruce, our first -Bursar, now minister of Banff, W. L. Davidson, LL.D., -minister of Bourtie, and our mutual friend John Smith, -of Broughton Place Church here, and many more, I -watched your son's career with the deepest interest, -and as I have said, took quite a pride in the career of -usefulness and honour which by his ability and hard -work he shaped for himself in London. We really felt -as if he were our own somehow, and as if we had a -share in all the honours he was gaining, both as a -literary and as a public man." The Rev. W. A. Gray, -of Elgin, who was brought up in a neighbouring Free -Church manse, says, "What characterised him then was -his intense sense of fun, his perception of the comic -side of things, especially in regard to people, and his -never-failing stock of anecdotes, almost always humorous, -never malicious." Coming several years after -Elmslie to the University of Aberdeen, I only knew him -from a distance. To an outsider his prominent quality -was winsomeness. There was no jealousy in Aberdeen -of fairly won success; if there had been, Elmslie would -have disarmed it. Then, as always, he took his victories -with the utmost simplicity. He was always -humble, with the humility which is very consistent with -strenuous effort and even great ambition.</p> - -<p>The sons of Free Church ministers in those days, however -great their University successes might have been, -generally desired no higher position than that of their -fathers. It was, no doubt, the wish of his parents that -Elmslie should be a minister, and his inclination fell -in with that. At the same time there were counter-inducements; -for one, many Aberdeen students had -been winning high distinction at Cambridge, the senior -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> -wranglership having fallen to some of them, and his -teacher and some of his relatives were anxious that he -should try his fortunes there. He had himself a strong -bent to the medical profession. Whatever line he had -taken in life he would have been successful. A well-known -revivalist preacher, also a professional man, is -understood to have counselled him to go in for a business -life. One who knew him well has remarked to me, -since his death, that his true pre-eminence would have -been shown in a scientific career. But his life, and -especially its closing years, made it plain that his own -choice was wise.</p> - -<p>A new era opened for him when he went as a -theological student to the New College, Edinburgh. -The Free Church possesses a theological seminary in -Aberdeen which assuredly did not lack for able Professors, -but the number of students is small, and -the more ambitious men usually go to Edinburgh. In -Edinburgh the Free Church College (known as New -College) had for its first Principal Dr. Chalmers, and -in succession Dr. Cunningham and Dr. Candlish, the -three greatest of the Disruption worthies. It had also -some notable men among its Professors. When Elmslie -went up Candlish was at the head. His appearances -were only occasional, as he was also minister of Free -St. George's, Edinburgh. But although his contribution -to the vitality of the New College was necessarily -small, it was real. Mr. Gray writes: "He gave no -lectures, his work being confined to the examining and -criticising of the students' discourses. There was -always a considerable interest in these criticisms, and a -good turn out to hear them. They were usually strongly -put, both in the direction of censure and of praise; -but any one who knew the Doctor's methods, and made -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> -allowance for vigour of phrase, could depend on a true -and perceptive estimate of the merits or demerits of -a sermon. Sometimes he could be savage enough. -Fancy a man tomahawked with the following, delivered -with the well-known burr, flash of eye, and protrusion -of underlip: 'All I have got to say about this discourse -is' (raising his voice) 'that one half should be struck -out, and' (lowering it again) 'it doesn't matter which -half.' This may have compared with another historic -criticism, attributed to Dr. Cunningham when addressing -the author of a certain Latin thesis: 'Of this -discourse I have only to say two things—the writer -has murdered the Latin tongue, and perverted the -glorious Gospel of Christ.' But Candlish was one -of the kindest of men. How well I remember the -little figure, with the gold spectacles flashing beneath -the big hat; the loosely fitting coat; the wide trousers, -lapping two or three inches above the shoes, which -were usually set off by a foot of loose lace; the gruff -greeting, which usually changed into a warm, hearty -smile if he were accosted."</p> - -<p>Among the Professors, Elmslie evidently appreciated -Dr. Davidson and Dr. Rainy, while conscious of receiving -benefit from others. The longest personal sketch -he ever wrote was an article on Professor Davidson in -the <i>Expositor</i> (January, 1888). In this he says, "His -singular and significant influence does not consist in -what he does, but in what he is. It is not the quantity -or the contents, but the quality and kind of the thinking. -It is not even the thought, so much as the mind that -secretes it. It is not its clearness nor its profundity, -not its reserve nor its passion, not its scepticism nor -its superiority of spiritual faith; but it is the combination -of all these, and the strange, subtle, and fascinating -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">{14}</a></span> -outcome of them. The central and sovereign spring -of Dr. Davidson's unique influence in the literature, -scholarship, and ministry of the Church is his personality.... -If the Church of Christ within our borders -should pass through the present trial of faith without -panic, without reactionary antagonism to truth, and -without loss of spiritual power, a very large part of the -credit will belong to the quiet but commanding influence -of the Hebrew chair in that college which rises so -picturesquely on the ancient site of Mary of Guise's -palace in Edinburgh." Of Dr. Rainy he has nowhere -written at length, but he was wont to speak of his -"smouldering passion," and the great ideas with which -he inspired the receptive among his students. Dr. -Elmslie, though resolute and even daring on occasion, -was a warm admirer of statesmanship, and Dr. Rainy's -skilful piloting of the Free Church through many -troubles he would often praise, emphasizing strongly, -at the same time, his belief in the Principal's perfect -honesty and singleness of purpose.</p> - -<p>There are many kind allusions in his letters to Dr. -Blaikie, to whom he was specially grateful for having -introduced him to practical mission work. In this he -was always intensely interested, maintaining that on -this ground the true battle of Christ must be fought.</p> - -<p>"Blaikie gave us a capital lecture, its only fault being -that there was too much matter, so that we could not -get down even a mere abstract of the substance."</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1"><span class="smc">"Edinburgh</span>, 1868.</div> -</div> - - <p>"Things are still going on capitally. At the hall Davidson is most - admirable, and Blaikie every day coming out even better and better. For - instance, speaking of the fondness the early apologists displayed - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">{15}</a></span> - at pointing not to the lives, but to the deaths of Christians, he - added, 'And indeed, gentlemen, I cannot help saying that in the course - of my experience as a minister I have always noticed the hush and - breathless attention such a subject ever commands, and I have found - nothing make a deeper impression, or act more powerfully as a means of - producing good, than a description of a triumphant death-bed.' This is - practical, true, and useful."</p> - -</div> - -<p>Elmslie threw himself with intense energy into the -work of his classes. At first he found it difficult to -maintain the place he had achieved at Aberdeen, for -he had able competitors, but his unweariable diligence -and quick apprehension soon put him at the head.</p> - -<p>In one of his earliest letters from Edinburgh he -writes, "On Wednesday evening I did first copy of -my essay with a headache coming on, which came on -with such heartiness that I went to bed, and I could -not go to college on Thursday. (N.B. It is remarkable -that when I have no mamma to nurse me my headaches -never come to such extremes as they do when I have -a fall-back. This one was bad enough, but not one -of the desperate kind.)"</p> - -<p>There was only one cure for these headaches, and -he could never bring himself to take it. It would be -tedious to go over the story of his successes. By this -time his younger brother, Leslie, had entered the -University of Edinburgh, where his triumphs were -scarcely less than those of his senior at the New -College. So used did the household at Insch become -to telegrams announcing new prizes and scholarships, -that at certain periods of the year the faithful mother -had telegrams of congratulation already filled up, -waiting to be despatched.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">{16}</a></div> - -<p>Many students of theology are more impressed by -the preaching they hear than by their Professors, -and Edinburgh has always been known for pulpit -eloquence. But it was the reverse with Elmslie. No -preacher seems to have had any great power over him. -He attended the Free High Church, then ministered -to by Mr. William Arnot; but though he admitted the -freshness and fertility of the preacher's mind, he was -not a warm admirer of his sermons. He often listened -to Dr. Charles J. Brown, in the Free New North, and -liked him: "he seems such a fine-hearted man." One -day he went to hear a fellow-student, and missed the -way to the church. He turned aside into the Barclay -Church, where Mr. (now Dr.) Wilson was preaching. -"I like Mr. Wilson very much. He is thoroughly -practical, both in his preaching and in his prayers. -For instance, in the one after the chapter he prayed -for boys and girls at school, that they might be helped -with their lessons when they were difficult, and that -they might learn obedience and courtesy and be made -blessings to their teachers; also for those persons -who had not had a good training in their youth, and -felt it now in showing a good example to the children, -and especially for those parents and children who were -troubled with bad tempers." After remarking on the -great predominance of young people in the congregation, -he says that the sermon was delivered with -a great deal of energy and action, and that the idea of -the preacher seemed to be to bring religion down on -the every-day life, that it might become the motive -power in work. "On coming out I accosted an intelligent-looking -man, and said, 'Was that Mr. Wilson?' -'Yes,' he said, and added, with a proud smile, 'And -didn't you like him?' I answered, 'Very much indeed,' -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></span> -whereupon he looked exceedingly gratified and -prouder than ever. I wish there were more such -pride."</p> - -<p>On another occasion he writes, "At present I had -sooner hear Dr. Candlish than any one. He is so -strong and honest, and wide in his sympathies. His -address to the students was full of passion and feeling, -and sympathy with the difficulty of believing some of -our Calvinistic doctrines, such as eternal ruin, heathens' -doom, etc. He went a very great length indeed, and -ended by saying it was too hard for him, and his heart -drew him the other way, and all he could do was to fall -back on his loyalty to Christ. It was more a picture of -his own heart's struggles than the Principal's address." -But his usual note is, "Heard <span class="nogap">————</span>, in <span class="nogap">————</span> Church: -middling."</p> - -<p>In 1871 he gained the Hamilton Scholarship in a most -brilliant manner, his marks being so extraordinary that -as they came in the secretary of the Senatus thought -there must be some mistake. His fellow-students, he -writes, were overwhelmingly kind in their congratulations, -and he himself seems to have rejoiced in this success -more than in any other of his life. One thing was -that in his after-work he would not have the same amount -of anxiety and despair that weighed him down in his -preparations. But the chief thing was the joy it would -give at home. "I need not tell you," he writes to his -mother, "how <i>sweet</i> your letter was to me, telling me of -your joy on receipt of the telegram. When no letter -came in the morning you cannot think how disappointed -I was, for, to confess the truth, I had been thinking all -Sabbath of the pleasure of reading the home letters, -and in them getting the real joy of the scholarship. -For, except the pleasure of knowing the gladness caused -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span> -at home, there is not much satisfaction otherwise in -it. It is strange how soon, after the first surprise of -getting it, the delight of getting it passed away, and I -think there was more enjoyment in the working for it -than in the having it."</p> - -<p>This incident may stand as typical of many others, -and of his prominent place among men not a few of -whom were of real mark. His comradeships among -the students filled a large place in his life. Of all his -friends the most intimate and best loved was Mr. Andrew -Harper, now Lecturer on Hebrew in Ormond College, -Melbourne. I regret much that exigencies of time make -it impossible to include, for the present at least, any of -his letters to this brother of his heart. They were -always together, for ever disputing, and never quarrelling, -very close to one another in heart and mind. Two -years before Dr. Elmslie's death Mr. Harper visited this -country. The friends resumed their ancient intercourse, -visited Switzerland in company, and found that -the changes of the years had only drawn them nearer. -Some of the best life in the New College has always been -found in the Theological Society—an association of the -students who gather to discuss controverted questions, -and do not fear to go into them thoroughly. These meetings -were greatly relished by Elmslie. Among the -leading members in his time was Professor Robertson -Smith, whose amazing keenness in debate is often -admiringly mentioned in his letters home. The first -time Elmslie spoke in the Society was in connection -with a discussion whether the Free Church should -return to the Establishment on the abolition of patronage. -He took the negative side, and was complimented -on both sides for the ability and ingenuity of his -speech. The speculative daring in the Society at a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> -time when outside the old orthodoxy was hardly -questioned partly amused and partly pleased him. He -speaks of entertaining Dr. Davidson very much by -telling him that the men at the Theological fathered all -their heresies on Dr. Candlish's "Fatherhood of God," -by, as they expressed it, carrying out its principles to -their logical conclusions. The subjects themselves, -however, were the main thing and took abiding possession -of his heart. "I intend," he says, "to still -go on studying these themes of Christ more deeply, -for they have interested me intensely. By the way, I -believe what will be of more value to me than the -scholarship, and also far more satisfactory, is the feeling -I have that in preparing for it I have made an -immense addition to my knowledge in several departments, -and done it so thoroughly that it will never pass -away. Two subjects have so interested me that I mean -to go on studying them—namely, the Person of Christ, -and the Early Apostolic Church."</p> - -<p>On his work and influence at New College the -letters of Professor Drummond and Dr. Stalker will -give a distinct impression, but I cannot leave the -subject without giving room to what was almost before -everything with him—his work among the poor, and -especially among their children. They show the -brilliant and courted student in another light, and it -is worth mentioning that the larger proportion of his -letters home is made up of such stories. His pupils in -the ragged school greatly interested him, and his letters -from Edinburgh are largely filled with picturesque -incidents of his experience among them.</p> - -<p>Edinburgh seemed to him more terrible in its undress -than Aberdeen. "I never saw such miserable -squalid faces, intermingled with roughs and coarse-looking -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> -women." There was a humorous side to it, -also, which he does not fail to give account of. One -day in the Sunday-school a little boy behind indulged -in an occasional pull at his coat-tail, or a facetious -poke at his back, to all of which demonstrations he -preserved an appearance of utter unconsciousness. -When the school was over, and they were waiting their -turn to get out, he turned round and said, not with -a very ferocious countenance, "Now, which of you -young rascals was pulling at my tails?" Of course, -this occasioned immense amusement, and one bright-eyed -little fellow said it could not have been so.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well," he said, "it is strange; I wonder if -the forms could have done it." This was a very -tickling idea, and immediately the little fellow said, -"Sir, I gave you a poke." He said, "That is honest, -now, and I suppose some other one took the tails." -"Yes, sir, it was me," said another merry young -monkey, with a comical look. He answered, "I know -you are not good scholars. How do I know that? -Oh, you never heard of good scholars pulling the -teacher's tails!" This was a very striking view of -things to them, and they did not know whether to be -impressed or amused.</p> - -<p>The quickness of the city children, and their readiness -of sympathy, specially struck him. But the main issue -of the work was practical. "I cannot help saying -that I feel that this work will do me real good, and -will give me an actual, and not a mere theoretical -interest in the work I have before me. And that is -a thing very much needed. One other thing I may -mention here. We have been having worship once a -day very regularly, and to me at least it has been very -pleasant and very useful. And now good-night to both."</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></div> - -<p>"I shall be very sorry to leave my poor little bairns, -for I have come to like them exceedingly, especially of -late; they have become so numerous that I have to -put some of them on the floor—nearly fifty last night. -I don't know how it is, but I have a strange sort of -feeling, as if they were having a deeper interest in what -I say than I ever saw before; perhaps it is because I -think I have myself. Since Christmas-time I have told -them every night about Jesus, and only stories that -directly illustrated His love and work, and I feel a -difference in the way they listen; some of them especially -sit so very still and quiet, with such an earnest, -solemn look on their faces. Some nights ago Donald -English (who made the disturbance the first night I -began), as I was beginning, took hold of my hand and -said, 'Oh, tell's about Jesus again, the night!' I often -end by asking them to pray Jesus, before they go to -bed, to make them His little ones; and several times, as -they went out, some of them have put their hand in -mine and whispered, 'I'll ask Him the nicht.' Last -Sabbath, when I was speaking of Jesus having died for -our sakes, they were all sitting so very attentive, but -three little boys in one corner began quarrelling about -a bonnet, and disturbing me by the noise. I stopped -twice and looked at them, but they always began again. -Presently I stopped for the third time, and was going to -speak to them, when one of the boys, who had been -very attentive, rushed at them, and before I could interfere -dragged one of them on to the floor, and commenced -a furious onslaught of blows and abuse for interrupting -me. I had hard work in persuading him to stop. -Another very funny thing was the looks of reproachful -indignation which some of the attentive ones had been -casting at the disturbers, previous to the final outbreak. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span> -It was terribly annoying at the time, especially as I -saw that many of them were very deeply interested. -When I was ending I spoke of how Jesus deserved to -be loved, and that they should ask to be made to love -Him. One little girlie whispered, 'I will ask Him, for, -oh, I do want to love Him!' and when I said it was -time to go away they cried, 'Oh, dinna' send's away -yet, tell's mair about Jesus;' and then they came -round me, and made me promise to tell them 'bonnie -stories about Jesus' next Sabbath. I have found that -nothing interests them more than what is directly about -Jesus. I could not help telling you all these little -things, but I never had the same sort of <i>feeling</i> in -teaching a class before, and I would like you to <i>remember</i> -sometimes my poor little children down in the -Canongate. I wish I could take them all into a better -atmosphere, for it is sad to think of their chances of -ever becoming good in such an evil, wretched place. -Harper and I have been having many nice talks. I -mean to preach often in the summer—I <i>want</i> to."</p> - -<p>Here he describes an incident of open-air preaching. -A friend was speaking, and Elmslie was managing the -audience.</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">Edinburgh</span>, <i>Jan. 23rd,</i> 1872.</div> -</div> - - <p>"During this the man I had heard swearing at F<span class="nogap">————</span> came up to S<span class="nogap">————</span>, - who was standing a few yards off, and spoke to him. I went up just in - time to hear him say, 'That fellow cannot even talk grammar.' I - replied, 'We don't come here to teach grammar.' He was rather taken - aback, but replied, 'Well, <i>I</i> could have said all your man said - in half the time.' 'Then wait till he is done, and you shall have the - next turn.' 'No, no, I don't want that; if I spoke I should oppose you.' - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> - 'I am ready for that; will you do it?' I said; 'We don't come here to - argue.' 'No; you are wise to decline to argue with me.' I answered, - 'Pooh! are you so conceited as to suppose that our arguing would make - any difference to Christianity? Why, it has been argued hundreds of - times over by men a deal wiser than you or me, and you see Christianity - has not gone to the wall.' By that time I saw I was going to win, and - got very cool and at my ease, while he got excited and put out; then he - started on a new tack by saying, 'And what good do you expect to do to - humanity by preaching here, and disturbing us?' I said, 'Well, perhaps, - for one thing, we will get some drunken characters like those' - (pointing to some) 'to give up the drink, and be decent, and keep their - wives and children from starving.' 'Well, that may be, but speaking - like yours will never do it.' I answered, 'No, you are quite right, but - we are young, you see, and some of us have not much voice, and some - have not much sense; but we are just trying to find out who of us can - do the thing, and so, you see, we are just doing as well as we can.' He - looked rather amazed at my frankness, and said, 'Well, I'm sure I have - not any ill-will to you, but I don't believe in religion, and there are - such a lot of hypocrites.' I said, 'Yes, there are a great lot, but - that's just a reason why you should believe in the goodness of - religion.' 'How do you make that out?' 'Why, you never heard of people - making imitation of the stones and stuff like that' (pointing to the - gutter), 'but it is sovereigns and things like that they make - counterfeits of.' 'Ay, but I hate hypocrites, and say, Down with them.' - 'So do I; and if you could down with all the religious hypocrites you - would do more for Christianity than we can by preaching here.' 'Ah!' he - said, 'if that's your opinion - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> - you should not take to street preaching; they are all hypocrites.' 'Oh, - nonsense!' I replied. He exclaimed, very bitterly, 'Look at <span class="nogap">————</span>' - (mentioning a recent scandal); 'what good has that man done?' I - answered, 'More than ever you or I have.' 'I would like to hear how.' - he sneered. 'Why, you know, for one thing, he did manage, whether his - preaching was sense or nonsense, to persuade a lot of drunken working - men to give up drink and go to the kirk, and not waste their money in - the public-house; and now you go and ask their wives and bairns whether - R<span class="nogap">————</span> has done any good in the world.' 'Ay, but what do you say to,' - etc.? 'That it was a great sin and shame to him; but that is no reason - for refusing to own that he has done a vast deal of good before he did - that piece of ill; and besides, I doubt if you or I are so good as to - throw stones at him, etc., etc. Now I've listened to your criticisms on - us, and pretty hard some of them were, so you will come up with me now, - and hear what we've got to say.' He said, 'Well, I must say I like your - way of taking things; I never heard them put in the way you have done; - but I have not time now to come up; I have to take tea in half an hour - with a mate.' I said, 'Still, you'll promise to come back next Sunday - and hear us, and I may tell you, in secret, we shall have better - speakers next time, and if you like, after the meeting is over, I'll - have a talk with you. I never did meet one of your side before, but - I've read some of your books. We won't call it a discussion, for I've - not had any experience at arguing, and I suppose you are an old hand.' - He gave a queer laugh, and said, 'Any way I never came across anybody - on your side with half your sharpness and common sense; and besides, I - must say <i>you</i> are honest about it.' And then we shook hands, - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span> - and he promised to come along next Sunday.... By the way, in my talk - with the Deist my 'heretical' reading came in useful to me; for if I - had not come through all that, I could not have heard his attacks on - religion and kept my coolness, or taken them up the way I did; so it is - <i>some good</i>; it will give me confidence in myself for the - future—<i>another</i> good thing."</p> - -</div> - -<p>Pleasant interludes in his New College life were a -session spent at Aberdeen University, as assistant to -the Professor of Natural Philosophy, Mr. David Thomson, -and two sessions spent at Berlin in the study -of theology. At Aberdeen he had in his class Mr. -Chrystal, now the celebrated Professor of Mathematics -in the University of Edinburgh, whose abilities he -repeatedly refers to in his letters. His work was -enjoyable, and his relations with Professor Thomson -of the most cordial kind. He was tempted in various -ways to alter his life purpose, was offered a professorship -of Natural Philosophy with a large salary in -the Colonies, and was specially tempted to enter the -medical profession. His closest friend at the University, -Mr. James Shepherd, now a medical missionary -of the United Presbyterian Church in India, was -pursuing his professional studies, and with him he -frequently visited hospital patients, finding a double -interest in the work. Thus he writes:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">Aberdeen</span>, <i>March 14th,</i> 1870.</div> -</div> - - <p>"As to Medicine, I have read up most of the text-books prescribed - here, so that I am really very well up on the subject, and Jim Shepherd - says I would make a capital doctor. I went along with him to the - 'Dissecting-room,' 'Anatomical Museum,' 'Infirmary,' and 'Incurable - Hospital,' and he did his best to sicken - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span> - me (as you remember befell me three years ago), but I was all right, so - he says I am now 'hardened'! It was very interesting seeing all the - poor ill folk, and it was a real pleasure to speak to them, and joke - with them, and leave them cheery."</p> - -</div> - -<p>In Germany it is evident even from his meagre -notebooks that he thoroughly enjoyed life, and entered -into it with his usual zest and brightness. But everything -was subordinated to study. He made himself -master of the language, and did his best to profit from -the lectures he attended.</p> - -<p>His good parents were naturally alarmed at the -effects which German practice and thought (more -dreaded then, perhaps, than now) might have upon their -son. He warns them against uncharitableness. "There -is nothing so difficult," he says, "as to convey a true -and fair picture of the religious state of a people. -Just as one's opinion of a person's character is often -wholly changed on coming in contact with him, so -actual life in a country alters one's estimate of it, -and differences of circumstances and training condition -the development of thought." He comes to the conclusion -that it is not a breach of charity to say that the -Germans are in a lower state religiously than Scotland, -but asserts that at the same time there are many good -and spiritual men among them, and that Germany is not -so much more irreligious than, for example, London. He -quotes Dorner as saying of missionary work, "You -send more money, but we send more men." At that -time he was beginning to understand Dorner's lectures, -and says they are very good and very useful, especially -for Germany. "For instance, he has been defending -the doctrine of the Trinity, the personality of the Holy -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span> -Ghost, the Divinity of Christ, and eternal punishment. -He is very practical and thorough."</p> - -<p>His attachment to Dorner grew as is witnessed by -the following letter:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"Dorner is a thoroughly good and very able man, and I have found your - remark true, for I have already got a great deal of good from his - lectures on Romans. He is at present lecturing on the 4th chapter, and - since I began to understand him I have enjoyed his lectures very much; - formerly the first few chapters of Romans seemed to me almost - unintelligible, but I now see not only the meaning of the separate - verses, but the grand line of thought and argument running through the - whole, and I have a far clearer conception of many of the grandest - Gospel doctrines than I had before, and especially of the nature of - Christ's sacrifice for sin, and the necessity lying on God to punish - sin. I wish I could send you some extracts from the lectures to show - you how very good they are, but I can only give you one illustration. - On iii. 28—which Luther translates, 'We conclude, then, that a man is - justified by faith <i>alone</i>, without the deeds of the law'—he - remarked that the Romanists misrepresent the meaning of this, and - accuse Luther of Antinomianism, but (he added) Luther's position is - simply this: 'The fruit does <i>not</i> make the tree, but a good tree - cannot be without fruit.' When he was lecturing on iii. 25, where the - question comes up whether Christ was merely the Altar for the - propitiatory sacrifice or Himself the Sacrifice, he quoted Dr. Chalmers - and another Scotch theologian with <i>extreme</i> approval, viz., - Morison—do you know who he is? (Dorner took strongly the view that - Christ was Himself the Sacrifice.) It is a great pleasure to hear him - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span> - reading the verses of the passage he is to examine, for he does it with - such earnestness and impressiveness that they seem to have double the - meaning that they have ordinarily; he has a great deal of eloquence in - him, and I like him very much."</p> - - <p>"I always read Meyer's Commentary on Romans before going to the class, - so that I am studying Romans very thoroughly, and as the other - Professor I attend is lecturing on Paul's Teaching, and has been - lecturing on his Life, I shall know a good deal more of Paul before I - come back."</p> - - <p>"On Wednesday, the 9th, I bought two Commentaries—De Wette on Psalms, - and Meyer on Romans; they were rolled up in a sheet of paper taken out - of an old book, containing some sixteen pages. I happened to glance at - it in unfolding it, and my attention was caught by these words, in - German, of which the following is a translation: 'Look upon your - children as just so many flowers, which have been lent to you out of - God's garden; the flowers may wither or die, yet thank God that He has - lent them to you for one summer.' I thought at once that I had surely - known the style long ago, and on glancing down the pages I was not at - all surprised to find where the letter broke off—'S. R.— Aberdeen, - March 7th, 1637.' Was it not strange to come in that odd way on a - German translation of Samuel Rutherford's Letters? (See if you can find - the passage.) I also notice, in the bookseller's catalogue, that - Bunyan's works are all translated, also Spurgeon's, 'Schonberg-Cotta - Family,' Mrs. Henry Wood's novels, etc."</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the autumn of 1873 Mr. Elmslie came to London. -Four years previously Dr. Dykes had assumed the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></span> -pastorate of the church at Regent Square. His health -made it necessary for him to receive, from the commencement, -assistance in his work. He was always -anxious to secure the services of young men who might -be trained under him for high achievements in later years. -He heard of Mr. Elmslie's brilliant promise and invited -him to fill the position, then vacant, of assistant to -himself. The invitation was accepted, and Mr. Elmslie -settled in London.</p> - -<p>At Regent Square he flung himself into the work of -the congregation with eager sympathy. He rapidly -became popular and was made welcome in every home. -In Dr. Dykes he found a wise and kind helper, to whom -he became warmly attached. He appreciated his methods -of working and his power as a preacher; but most of -all he was struck by that grace of devotional fervour -which gave Dr. Dykes' prayers so constraining a power -to draw the souls of his people into communion with -God. Nothing could have been brighter and happier -than the life of the young preacher in his new surroundings, -and his contagious enthusiasm and energy reacted -on all who knew him. Here in London, at the busy -centre of so much of the world's activity, his eager, -questioning spirit found material for its restless enquiries; -whilst that knowledge of human nature and its -needs, which lay at the back of his most powerful -spiritual work in later years, was slowly moulded by -the opportunities of this time.</p> - -<p>He describes in a letter to his mother the opening of -his pulpit work at Regent Square. His chief fear was -for his voice: "It looked such a distance," he writes, -"to the faces in the end gallery." He got a friend to -sit at the far end of the church, just over the clock, -with a handkerchief which he was to wave if the speaker -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> -were inaudible. The subject of his sermon was, "The -blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin."</p> - -<p>It is curious that the only despondent note that sounds -through his correspondence at this time is the lamentation -that he is unfitted for the pulpit. Repeatedly he -expresses the fear that he will never make a preacher. -He feels stiff and ill at ease. Official trappings of any -kind he always disliked; and the pulpit robes, which he -afterwards, as far as possible, discarded, he even then, -as he told Dr. Dykes, detested. "I find it," he writes, -"most hopeless to get anything I much care to say, and -even then it is a perplexity generally to see what really -is the reason. I am at the very point of giving over -preaching altogether." Again, "I am more sure than -ever that I am not a preacher," "Romps with Mr. -Turnbull's children's singing-class are, on the whole, -the most satisfactory occupation I know of."</p> - -<p>These doubts and discouragements are not surprising. -From the very first Dr. Elmslie conceived of the -Christian Faith in a deep, comprehensive way, and its -ideals of purity and holiness touched and warmed his -nature at many points. Just because the outline was -so large the filling-in took years to accomplish. It was -only by continuous and patient self-analysis, by long -observation and study of his fellow-men, that he was -able to meet the needs of humanity, at all points, with -a message which no one interpreted more largely. His -sermons at Regent Square are sketches and outlines -which experience alone could embody and complete. I -have been much struck, in preparing a selection of his -sermons for the press, with the growth of their composition. -The sermon, for example, which stands first in -this volume is, I think, the earliest he ever wrote. But -the sermon, as it was last preached and is now printed, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> -is not the sermon as he wrote it. The latter, though in -outline identical, has been emptied of its original contents -and re-filled out of the abundance of a heart which -had grown in deeper knowledge of human needs and -the approaches of Divine compassion.</p> - -<p>His greatest satisfaction he found in his intercourse -with the young men in the congregation.</p> - -<p>"At the Young Men's Society," he writes, "I have -been chairman for some time, and have to sum up: it -costs me no preparation, and yet how they listen, and -how I feel I can sway them as I please! I enjoy <i>that</i> -kind of speaking."</p> - -<p>It was at the close of these weekly discussions that -Mr. Elmslie and I used often to meet. Our homeward -paths were not identical, but we used to imagine that -we were alternately escorting one another home as we -spent a measurable portion of many a night upon the -pavement, heedless of the thinning traffic, in keen -debate over some of those deep insoluble problems -which, I am glad to think, trouble his eager heart no -longer. "I have long believed," he writes, "<i>thinking</i> -to be more unhealthy than fever, cholera, bad drains, -etc. I would give a good deal to be only an animal -now and then."</p> - -<p>Almost the first hopeful word about his preaching -in Regent Square occurs in the following passage; it -is interesting otherwise:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"On Monday evening I was at Mr. Bell's. He pressed me to stay; thought - I should not be a Professor; meant for a preacher; would have great - power; something quite peculiar about my sermons; made Christ and - everything so real, and near, and helpful; and my prayers always did - him good, etc., etc.</p> - - <div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></div> - - <p>"Curious, <i>that</i> in my sermons tells with everybody, for it comes from my - line of reading and thinking at college, especially from the <i>German - books on Christ, such as Strauss</i>; they made me trust Him as a - Person rather than a doctrine; besides, I know I have come to regard - Him all round differently in consequence. I have had to pay dearly for - the reading, and have often wished I had not, so it is a little comfort - to find that my coming through it makes me more helpful now."</p> - -</div> - -<p>The following is worth quoting as an instance of his -ready resource:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1">"48, <span class="smc">Regent Square</span>, <i>Tuesday</i>.</div> -</div> - - <p>"<span class="smc">My Dear Folks</span>,—On Saturday morning a shabby man called, said - he was a cousin of Dykes, needing money too, etc., just come from - America—awkward Dykes on Continent. I saw he was an impostor, so - resolved to get rid of him. I answered, 'It <i>is</i> awkward.' Then he - said, 'What is to become of me? I look to you, sir.' 'Nothing will come - of that, I fear.' 'But are you not Dr. Dykes's assistant?' 'Yes, I - assist <i>him</i>, but not his relatives.' 'Well, but, sir, what would - you advise me to do?' 'To say "Good morning," and not lose more of your - time here.' As he got up he rubbed his stomach and said, 'I have had no - breakfast to-day.' 'Very hard that mine is over, and my landlady does - not like to have to make a second; do you often go without food?' 'Many - and many a time, sir.' 'Ah, the doctor says it is good for the health! - I wish I looked as well-fed as you do, going without breakfast. It must - be economical. Good morning.' And we parted with mutual grins."</p> - -</div> - -<p>Among the congregation at Regent Square Mr. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> -Elmslie formed many friendships. He conceived a -warm regard for Professor Burdon-Sanderson (now of -Oxford) and his wife; and other names might be mentioned -of those who became lifelong friends. Among -men who have since become well known, he saw something -of Professor G. J. Romanes, who was then an occasional -visitor at Regent Square. About this time he -describes a meeting with Macdonell of the <i>Times</i>, whom -he speaks of as "full of light." On the same occasion -he met Dr. Marcus Dods for, I think, the first time. -"<i>Dods, I like very much</i>," is his brief comment.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">Two years after his first arrival in London Mr. -Elmslie settled in Willesden as minister of the Presbyterian -Congregation there. When he left Scotland in -1873 he had formed no resolve to sever his ecclesiastical -connection with that country. Circumstances and -inclination, however, kept him in the south. He was -much impressed with the type of congregation which -represented English Presbyterianism at Regent Square. -For many members of the session he had a warm -respect and friendly admiration. He was interested in -the experimental position of a Church, such as the -Presbyterian one in England, comparatively young and -small. The appeal that came to him from Willesden -was direct and urgent. It is not to be wondered at -that he yielded, at first rather reluctantly, to its pleading. -The next eight years of his life were spent in -active ministry in this little metropolitan suburb.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Elmslie came to Willesden the place was -much less populous than it has since become. The -streets were only partially lighted. The road from -the Junction Station to the little village of Harlesden, -which is now a continuous row of shops and houses, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span> -passed then between ragged hedges, under a canopy -of elms. The Presbyterian Church was not built, -but services were held in a hall, which was the first -building the Scotch residents put up. Mr. Elmslie -took rooms near the site of the prospective church, -but shortly after moved to the little house in Manor -Villas which belonged to the chapel-keeper and his -wife—Mr. and Mrs. Oxlade—a worthy couple, who -returned the respect with which he regarded them by -a loving admiration for the best man, as they phrased -it, whom they ever knew.</p> - -<p>On November 23rd, 1875, Mr. Elmslie was duly -ordained. His dear mother was present at the service, -and many friends. I had been with him during the -earlier part of the day. Among other subjects of -conversation we had been anticipating an episcopal -discussion on the ethics of betting. He recognized -the difficulty of the subject, and as he got more hopelessly -perplexed in his effort to justify an absolute -prohibition of the practice on grounds which could -be intellectually defended, he turned, I remember, to -his mother with a look of comical helplessness: "Here -am I going to be ordained, and I don't even know why -it's wrong to bet."</p> - -<p>The congregation under his watchful care grew and -prospered. A more united body of people never kept -together in corporate life, and this happy result was -due in chief measure to the unwearied tact and resource -of the young minister.</p> - -<p>In the spring of the following year the new church -was completed and opened for public worship. Mr. -Elmslie seemed to be able to draw into it men of all -shades of religious opinion, and some even whose -family traditions were at variance with evangelical -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> -orthodoxy. One of the distinguished sons of a famous -Unitarian household was a fellow-worshipper with -Ned Wright the evangelist. Throughout the whole -of the little community which he ruled, for young and -old alike, there was life, energy, and kindly charity. -He felt that the path of Christian living was not to be -trodden without ardent effort; and his example was at -once a stimulus to the strong and an encouragement -to the weak. "Your prayers," said a lady to him at -this time, "always make me feel that it is a terribly -difficult thing to be a Christian—but you can't think -what a lot of good they do me."</p> - -<p>The year after (1877) Mr. Elmslie commenced mission -work. The London and North Western Railway -Company had just built an Institute for their employés -who are housed in large numbers in what is known as -the Railway Village, at Willesden Junction. Above the -recreation rooms in the new building was a large hall, -which was placed at the disposal of Mr. Elmslie, by -the directors, for Sunday services. He willingly took -advantage of this kindness to gain a further hold on -men whose hearts, in many cases, he had already -reached. An engine-driver, who had been long ill, -remarked to a friend about him: "He comes here, has -a long chat, and tells me about many things; but never -lets me feel he knows more than I do." The services -then commenced are still continued under the oversight -of Mr. Elmslie's successor.</p> - -<p>Four years later another mission was started from -Willesden which has since grown into an independent -charge. The district of College Park came into being -beneath Mr. Elmslie's eyes, and its spiritual needs -attracted his attention. He applied to the London -School Board for use of a schoolroom in which to hold -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> -Sunday services. The application having failed he -bought, in the following year, along with his office-bearers, -the site for a hall and church. The hall was -at once built, and by the kindness of Mr. Andrew -Wark, and other friends to whom Mr. Elmslie made -a personal appeal, the money to meet the cost was -subscribed. The church has been more recently completed.</p> - -<p>One noticeable feature in his work at Willesden was -his power to attract the young. I remember his saying -on one occasion, half jestingly, that he liked to make -children happy, as he knew how miserable they would -be when they grew up. He meant that the strain of -living was bound to tell, and that children should have -all the happiness which can be enjoyed in the elasticity -of youth. I do not know which were more attractive -to the young people of Willesden—his children's sermons, -or the sweets which he used to produce from mysterious -stores when they came to visit him. Both were -excellent and both did good.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">The following contains an interesting account of his pastoral work, and -is worth quoting at length:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"Though it is late, and the text for Sunday (Communion) has not been - fixed yet, I am going to tell you a very sad story, that has made me - think of many things. Over a year ago Mrs. X<span class="nogap">————</span>, on my recommendation, - engaged as governess a Miss Y<span class="nogap">————</span>, a great friend of Mrs. Z<span class="nogap">————</span>, who - asked that she might be very kindly treated, because she had had a deal - to bear, and was all but disgusted with religion. She was a bright - young girl, very pretty and graceful, clever in talk and repartee. - Often I wished to find a way of showing her some kindness, but - naturally that was hardly possible. However, - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> - I knew that both Mr. and Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> were good to her. She was to have - left last Saturday, but took suddenly unwell—had to go to bed. On the - same day I called in at Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span>'s on my way to say good-bye to Miss - Y<span class="nogap">————</span>; learning of her attack, I did not go on.... Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> had given - her some eau-de-Cologne, and she had liked it much, so I took with me - my little spray bottle. Her mother was with her; she looked wretchedly - ill in face, eyes, and hands, but spoke in a very firm voice, and that - made me think there was certainly no immediate danger.</p> - -<p>"I at once told her about the spray bottle, and making her shut her - eyes, applied it on her temples. She said it was delicious, and took it - in her hands.</p> - -<p>"I cannot try to describe her talk, for it was broken by moments of - wandering, when she said very odd things, and in the midst she grew - sick, and I had to go outside; she was too ill then to say much. I - deemed it kind not to remain, but had a short, simple prayer. She said, - very earnestly, 'Thank you so much for that!' I told her I would come - again, and she must not fear to say to me all she wished. She answered, - 'Yes, come again.' Thursday was a very busy day, for I had many - engagements in London. Though I tried hard, I could not get home early, - but it would have made no difference. She had been delirious night and - day, with occasional intervals, and died at a quarter to three in the - afternoon. She was only twenty-three.</p> - -<p>"... J<span class="nogap">————</span> G<span class="nogap">————</span> went up and held her hands. She struggled for a moment - or two, and then let her head down, and while he spoke to her, quieting - her, she said she was going to be good and sleep now. Her wild eyes - shut at last, and she was in a sleep, such as she had not had since - Saturday.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span> - "The mother and Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> stole out, leaving only a sister, thinking - it was recovery; but it was death. In ten minutes, with a little sigh, - she ceased to breathe. Mr. G<span class="nogap">————</span> was her great friend, and she died in - his arms. You can hardly think how sad her death has made me. So many - forlorn things are about it that I have no time to write. Those lonely - nights of agony and death-like sickness, that she had said nothing - about at the time, believing herself dying, a governess among - strangers, etc.</p> - -<p>"Two things I am glad of—that Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> was with her one night, and - that I thought of the spray bottle. She said to me, '<i>You</i> had - Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> to nurse <i>you</i>; is not she an <i>angel</i>?' and I - said, 'Yes, as much as if she had wings,' and I meant it.</p> - -<p>"Then her sisters told me that all that last night and day, till close - on the end, my little bottle was never out of her hand; the coolness of - the air and the softness of the spray relieved her sickness so much. - Once, when in a spasm she jerked the bottle on the floor, she cried, - for fear it was broken. The mother has sent a message asking if she may - keep it, since it was the last thing in her child's hand, and the last - that gave her any pleasure. It seems, too, that she spoke more than - once of my prayer for her. Before the mother left last night to go - home, she said to Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span>, 'I shall always love you and your husband - for what you have done for my child. Your kindness to her and the - preaching she heard in your church did her so much good. She came to - you with her life embittered, and with her religious beliefs nearly - gone. Only a month ago she told me they had all come back again, and - she understood Christ better, and believed in Him more, because of the - way Mr. Elmslie preached of him, and we all have seen that this - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> - last year at Willesden has been the happiest in all her life. If she - had been taken a year ago our recollections would have been very, very - sad; now it is different,' and then the poor lady burst out crying. - To-day I tried hard to get some white roses to lay on her ere the body - is taken home, but I could only get some smaller white flowers, and - maiden-hair ferns. Mrs. G<span class="nogap">————</span> had also got a basket of flowers, and I - think the sight of them will comfort the old folks at home a little, as - also a letter I have sent the poor mammy, saying some kind things about - her lassie.</p> - -<p>"Many other touching things the poor girl said and did come to my mind, - and I could tell you more, but there is not time. I called it a sad - story, but in some ways it is not sad. Indeed, I almost think that it - is death alone that makes life at all sacred.</p> - -<p>"All these things have made me think that Christ's account of the - judgment must be quite real. I mean the 'Inasmuch as ye did it to one - of these,' etc., for that is just how we would feel, that is just how - the poor mother of the dead girl felt. There is nothing to thank God - for more than to have been able to do a kindness to a dying soul. To - think that a poor troubled soul has gone out of the pain and tiredness - of life straight into the arms of God from yours, with the touch of - pitying hands fresh on it; to feel God sees that, and knows those hands - were yours, seems to me to bring you and God very near to each other. - If it be true that He loves 'the souls that He hath made,' surely He - must love you for loving them. I do not think it would matter very much - about other things, if you had loved a good deal. If a little child - said, as you were being turned away, 'He made me so happy!' and - another, 'He fed and clothed me;' and another, 'He held me so - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span> - gently in the agony of death,' even if he were a very sinful man, what - could God do to him who had been good to the 'little ones'? The Apostle - John had thought of it, and said, 'He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in - God,' and Paul must have been in the same mind when he wrote 1 Cor. - xiii."</p> - -</div> - -<p>They were very bright and happy, those Willesden -days with their expanding usefulness; and before Mr. -Elmslie left the district his life had been crowned by -the commencement of that heart-union with another -which seemed to more than double the separate influence -of each for good. He worked unremittingly, -and even his holidays were not given to idleness or -rest. When he came to London he knew little of -French, and one of his first holidays was spent in Paris, -where he worked at the language with conscientious -thoroughness, and obtained an adequate mastery over -its difficulties. He returned to Paris on another occasion -for further study, and one late summer he spent in -Rome studying Italian.</p> - -<p>His second visit to Paris was very helpful to him -in more ways than one, especially in the influence -exercised upon him by Bersier.</p> - -<p>"I find that the £30 I spent on going to Paris is -going to pay me far more than I thought of, not merely -in French, though I rejoice in that daily, but in preaching. -Perhaps you remember me saying that I had got -several hints from the style of Bersier, who spoke, not -read—mainly in letting out, adopting a free, direct style, -variation, etc. Since coming back I have had constantly -to preach very badly prepared; but I knew that -(partly in consequence) I was much more free, bold, -and roused. On Sunday I was very ill-prepared, -nothing written, even order of thoughts not fixed; and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></span> -I did not stick, even, to the line intended; but feeling -this, I let out tremendously in vehemence and language. -I saw how it took, and several spoke. Yesterday two -old folks were on the sermon, and then they said, -'But ever since you came back from Paris you have -been so much improved,' etc., etc. And indeed, I have -heard more of my sermons during the last few weeks -than ever before. So I owe a debt to M. Bersier. -Another item, however, is, I fancy, that Paris made -some things a little more real to me than they were -before."</p> - -<p>During all these years Mr. Elmslie's reading was -wide and various. At the same time it was not difficult -to see that the subject that interested him most was the -study of man, and the books that attracted him were -those that threw light upon the actions and passions of -men. When he returned from Paris for the first time, -for example, the author of whom he was most full was -Rousseau—not Rousseau the philosopher and speculative -thinker—but the Rousseau of the "Confessions"—with -their strange candour and unblushing avowals. -He read little of the works of the great imaginative -masters of English prose or verse. If he did read -a volume of Tennyson or Ruskin, for example, his -criticisms were always brilliant and penetrating; but -he never nourished his spirit upon their loftier utterances, -nor was his style moulded by the melody of -theirs. One exception I should perhaps make. His -study of George Eliot was frequent and appreciative. -One of his students has told us how, shortly before his -own death, he referred to the scene in which Mr. -Tulliver's is described to point a characteristic lesson -in theology and charity. The passage was a favourite -one, from the day when a friend first gave him the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> -"Mill on the Floss" to read. I remember another -remark of his about George Eliot which is worth -quoting, but to appreciate its point I must introduce a -word of explanation. I had, just at that time, drawn -up a memorial on a subject in which we were both -interested. Avoiding the conventional "wharfoes" -which "Uncle Remus" has satirized in such documents, -I had worded the appeal with perhaps exaggerated -directness. Each sentence contained a distinct proposition, -and the whole was expressed with something of -that oracular emphasis with which, in those days, -Victor Hugo used, from time to time, to address the -citizens of Paris. After talking of this composition, -and the subject of which it formed part, the conversation -turned on George Eliot. I referred to "Romola"—especially -to the closing scenes in the life of Savonarola, -which, as it has always seemed to me, touch the highest -point that has been reached in analysis of the drama of -spiritual conflict. As I recalled the passage in which -the disciplined imagination of the writer shows us the -great Florentine stripped, one after another, of all those -dazzling evidences of divine favour with which he used -to feed his soul in pride, till there is nothing left to -tell him of the unforsaking love of God save the lowly -witness of his own bowed and penitent heart, the eyes -of my companion grew bright with a large approval. -After a pause he said, "If we find George Eliot is not -in heaven when we get there, I think you and I will -have to draw up a memorial—in the style of Victor -Hugo."</p> - -<p>When one thinks of the versatility of Dr. Elmslie's -mind, and of the keenness of his intelligence, one feels -that he might have won laurels in any domain of intellectual -effort. And yet theology was the one subject -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> -on which his heart was set. He conceived of it grandly -and nobly. He believed in it in that deep, derivative -sense in which it is referred to by Carlyle in the opening -to his story of the Puritan revolt, as a knowledge of -God, the Maker, and of His laws. And for him Christ -was the Divine Lawgiver—sole Lord of his conscience -as well as Saviour of his spirit. For me at least, the -facts of Christianity seemed always to grow larger and -more solemn as he pressed their spiritual significance; -its doctrines seemed to grow more real as he pierced -beneath the forms in which they are encased to explore -their ethical contents. God and man, and the -relations between them, were the absorbing subjects -of his study. It was his constant brooding over human -nature as seen in the light of Divine pity, which gave -its largeness to his measurement alike of the deadly -hatefulness of sin and of the atoning charity of Christ. -Sin was for him a thing far more terrible than any -punishment which could possibly await it; and his -sense of its dread, though still expiable, terror gave to -him his Christlike eagerness to watch for the faintest -signs of contrition and amendment. The following -passage in a letter written to his mother some years -earlier contains, it seems to me, the heart and soul of -all his preaching.</p> - -<p>"Am very much touched to hear about the poor -Doctor. No matter what he may have done, with his -disordered brain and troubled home life, I had rather -go into the next world like him than like most of those -who have condemned, though there were even nothing -more than that near the end he tried a little to do right, -and had a pitiful wish in his heart to be at rest, and go -back to his old mother, and live a Christian life. And -if it is really true that there is a heavenly Father who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> -pities sinful men, and a Christ who died to save them, -then I think my mammy, in helping him only but a -little to better thoughts and hopes, did a greater thing -than most deeds men call great. Any way, she has the -satisfaction of having done kindly by an unfortunate -man, and of knowing that it is all well with him—unless, -indeed, Christ was altogether mistaken. It is not the -first time, either, that she has done that sort of thing."</p> - -<p class="gap-above">In 1880 he was appointed tutor of Hebrew in the -Presbyterian College, London, and carried on the work -along with that of his congregation in Willesden. He -made himself very popular with the students, and when -a permanent appointment came to be made in 1883, -he was unanimously elected Professor of Hebrew. He -writes: "It seems that the speeches of Walton, Fraser, -and Watson were just perfect, so earnest and generous, -and loving and hopeful. That put the Synod into a -melting and happy mood. All yesterday I felt very -grave, and almost afraid. I see that a very great thing, -of good or evil, has happened in my life. God grant -that it may be for good."</p> - -<p>Almost immediately after his appointment to the -Professorship, he married Kate, daughter of Mr. -Alexander Ross, formerly Rector of the Grammar -School, Campbeltown. The home which he made -first at Upper Roundwood, Willesden, then at 31, -Blomfield Road, Maida Vale, will ever have the -brightest associations for his friends. He had all the -qualities that fit a man to bless and grace married -life. When his son and only child was born it -seemed as if he were drinking the richest happiness -of life in its fulness. I shrink from quoting words -so sacred and tender as these which I take from a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span> -letter to his wife, but I cannot otherwise convey the -full truth:—</p> - -<p>"It makes me so glad, dear, every time I think of it, -to know that we chose each other for no base worldly -motives, but out of pure love and esteem for what -(with all faults and defects) was good, and tender, -and true, in one another. It was not for the mean -things that the world and fashion make much of and -worship that we two came together, meaning to go -hand in hand through life with mutual help and kindness. -We knew quite well the world's ways, and we -could feel the pressure of its lower estimates and aims. -But this act at least was done not with shallow hearts -and for mean ends, but in honest friendship out of true -affection, and with a very earnest wish to do only what -was good and right, and to help each other to live a -happy and a noble life." Such a life it was, though -its years were few; and when the news of his death -came, amid all the absorbing and confounding regrets -which filled many minds, the thought was ever uppermost -of the wife and child left desolate in the home -that had been so full of sunshine.</p> - -<p>Dr. Elmslie gave himself unsparingly to the work of -his chair. He declined preaching engagements, and -made zealous preparation for his classes. Apart from -his own high standard of duty, he greatly respected -the opinion of students. He thought Professors could -have no fairer judges. The diligent study of the -Old Testament, with the aid of the best German commentaries, -was of course the main part of his preparatory -work. But he did more with dictionaries -than with commentaries, and made up his mind for -himself. He always kept pace with the progress -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> -of research, and followed with deep attention the -absorbing discussions of recent years on the structure -of the Old Testament. As he was himself so chary in -expressing publicly the conclusions he had arrived at -on these subjects, it would not be right for me to say -much. Of this, at least, he was sure, that the worth -and message of the Old Testament were unimpaired by -criticism, and would be so whatever the ultimate conclusion -might be. He was also exceedingly sceptical -as to the finality of the critical verdicts generally -accepted at present: he believed that the analysis would -be carried much farther. But although he diligently -studied these things, and was an accurate and exact -grammarian, he had his own theory of the duties of -a Professor, which cannot be better described than in -his own words, in an anonymous article contributed -to the <i>British Weekly</i> for September 16th, 1887. -There he says—</p> - -<p>"Theological colleges are not in the first instance -shrines of culture or high places of abstract erudition, -but factories of preachers and pastors. They are not -so much fountains of pure scholarship, but are rather to -be classed with schools of medicine and institutes of -technical education. Their function is not to produce -great theologians, but to train efficient ministers—though -they will hardly do that without possessing all that is -essential to do the other. The ideal Professor is not -your dungeon of learning, in whose depths he and his -pupils are buried away from all practical life and usefulness. -Information is good, in large measure indispensable, -but the rarer gift of the heaven-born teacher -is infinitely more. The old institution of the "lecture"—pretentious, -laborious, in every sense exhaustive—must -vanish. What was spun out into an hour of dry-as-dust -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span> -detail must be struck off in ten minutes of -bright, sharp, suggestive sketching. It is the difference -between the heavy leading article of our newspapers -and the crisp incisiveness of the French press. There -must be much more teaching from text-books, and direct -instruction from the Bible and human life. Dogmatic -must deal less with theories and mouldy controversies, -and more with the actual forces of sin and salvation. -Exegetic cannot be allowed to fool away a whole session -in a wearisome analysis of a few chapters of an epistle -or a prophecy, fumbling and mumbling over verbal -trivialities, blind to the Divine grandeurs that are enshrined -within, while the students are left without even -a bird's-eye view of the contents of the Bible as a whole, -and destitute of any adequate conception of its vital -majesty and meaning. Above all, a new scope and -purpose must be given to the teaching of Practical -Theology. Instead of a few lectures on the doctrine -of the Church, and the ideal construction of a sermon, -and the theoretical discharge of pastoral duty, this ought -to constitute the crowning and chief study in the curriculum. -And it should be in the form, not of teaching, -but of actual training. Montaigne complained of his -physicians that they "knew much of Galen, and little -about me." They manage better in medical education -now. Fancy the souls of tempted and sick men, women, -and children handed over to the unpractised mercies -of our book-taught young ministers. Colleges cannot -quite mend this difficulty; but they might do much. -And still more would be done if each student could be -secured a year of travel abroad, and after that be -required to serve an apprenticeship as curate or evangelist -in connection with our larger congregations."</p> - -<p>Through the kindness of my friend Mr. W. D. Wright, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> -B.A., a student in the English Presbyterian -College, I have received some very interesting reminiscences -from his students. Space does not permit me -to give them fully, but they show that Elmslie acted -up to his own conception of a Professor's duties. One -gentleman says—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"In recalling my impressions of Professor Elmslie, nothing strikes me - so forcibly as his unfailing gentleness towards his students. It was - very seldom indeed that any student was inattentive or troublesome in - class, but when anything of the kind did occur Elmslie never spoke a - word to the offender, and but for the pained flush on his face, one - would have thought he had not noticed the occurrence. Again, when a - student had not prepared his Hebrew lesson, and was unable to read it, - Elmslie always appeared more ashamed than the student himself, but - never said a word in blame or warning. Only he was afterwards chary of - asking the same student to read.</p> - - <p>"Elmslie was always ready to answer questions or meet any difficulties - raised by the students, and he was often more eloquent on these - occasions than when engaged in the ordinary routine of the class. He - had rather a dislike for the schoolmaster's work that he was compelled - to do with junior students, and hurried the class on until they were - able to read passages in Hebrew. He did not aim so much at turning out - Hebrew scholars as at making preachers, with a deep interest in Hebrew - literature, and imbued with its spirit. If he could only secure our - interest in a Hebrew author, and enlist our sympathies, he was willing - to excuse any ignorance of ours in regard to grammar or syntax."</p> - -</div> - -<p>Another says—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p>"Perhaps my most vivid remembrances of Dr. Elmslie - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> - collect round his criticisms upon his students' trial discourses. - Always kind, invariably conciliatory, in his criticism, yet he pointed - out very plainly the defects, and indicated what was lacking with - unfailing clearness of judgment. Even in the midst of his rebukes he - would frequently take the bitterness away by some half-playful remark - or reference to his own experiences.... But better than any criticisms - were his own concluding remarks on the text. Compressed, as they had to - be, into a very few minutes, the whole intensity of his nature was seen - in them. We often left the lecture-hall with our brains all astir and - our hearts glowing with the inspiration of his words.</p> - - <p>"I rather think some of his first-year students generally thought him - occasionally heretical in his remarks at the close of his criticism. - The one thing he could not bear was dulness, a uniformity of mediocre - unreproachableness about a sermon. So he loved to give with startling - effect a single side of a truth, and thus to send us away with our - minds in a state of rather anxious activity. Once he half-humorously - gave us the advice to begin our sermons with a truth stated in an - unusual, half-heretical way, if one liked; for there is nothing makes - people listen so attentively as a suspicion of heresy. But these early - doubts of our Professor's soundness soon vanished, and we found him, as - one has said, 'not so much <i>broad</i>, as <i>big</i>.'"</p> - - <p>"He read to us a letter from a young man in much doubt as to whether he - should enter the Wesleyan pulpit or no. His correspondent had read with - relish Dr. Elmslie's article on Genesis. Could the Professor tell him - of any books in which points of Christian faith were dealt with in an - intelligent and convincing way? He, the correspondent, knew of no such - books. Dr. - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> - Elmslie asked our opinion. I ventured to suggest that everybody had to - hammer out these points of faith for himself. The Doctor was rather - pleased with this remark, and at once said, 'Oh, yes! indeed he has, - and to live them out too.'"</p> - -</div> - -<p>In his old students who had become ministers he took -an earnest interest, and their letters show sufficiently -how they prized him. "I feel," says one, "that you -have inspired me with a something quite apart from -the detailed work of the class—with spirit and enthusiasm -for preaching."</p> - -<p class="gap-above">He himself was soon drawn back to the pulpit, and -as he preached in the various Nonconformist churches -of the Metropolis it was almost immediately felt that a -new force of the first rank had appeared. He preached -frequently in Brixton Independent Church, then under -the brilliant and devout ministry of James Baldwin -Brown. Mr. Brown's health was very infirm when -Dr. Elmslie began to preach there, and on his death -the congregation looked to the Professor as his natural -successor. Ultimately a cordial invitation was given. -The inducements offered were great, and the position -was among the most influential London Nonconformity -can bestow. That a change of ecclesiastical relations -would have been necessitated by his acceptance would -have been no difficulty to Dr. Elmslie. But he feared -to face the physical strain involved, and preferred to -continue his work as Professor.</p> - -<p>The disappointment felt at his declinature of the -invitation to Brixton Independent Church was very -deep, although the members construed his refusal in -the right way, and understood that no difference of -opinion on ecclesiastical polity and no doubt of their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span> -fidelity had anything to do with it. Some of the letters -written to him were very touching. Among these I -may quote the following:—</p> - -<p>"<span class="smc">Dear Sir</span>,—We are, with the exception of my -husband (who is somewhat of an invalid), closely -occupied all the week, sometimes even the strain becoming -excessive. On Sundays, when you come, your -teaching and influence lift us above all our difficulties, -and we start for the next week full of hope, and feeling -nothing too hard to be accomplished. With regard to -my sons, it is an especial boon, because, though they -are thoughtful and good, it has been almost impossible -to get them to attend church during the last two or -three years. They did not meet, perhaps, with a single -service for many weeks into which they could enter -with the slightest interest, so they stayed away. We -have all found our Sundays very wearisome, but on -those you have visited us all is changed. All are -deeply interested, one competing with the other in -bringing forward the ideas that have interested them." -The writer goes on reluctantly to acquiesce in a declinature -which had evidently gone to the heart of the whole -household.</p> - -<p>His sphere as a preacher steadily widened, and he -became, in addition, a most popular platform speaker at -the May meetings in Exeter Hall and elsewhere. There -is no room to recount his triumphs, and no need to do -so. All who heard him bore the same testimony. If -he was preaching in one of the suburbs the trains -towards the time of service brought a company of -admirers from all parts of London. The chapel would -be crowded to the doors. When he stood up in the -pulpit strangers felt surprise. Youthful in appearance, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> -unpretending in manner to the last degree, and in the -early part of the service generally nervous and restrained, -it was not till the sermon began that he showed -his full powers. He usually read the first prayer, and -was always glad if he could get some one to help him -with the lessons and the giving out of hymns. But -in preaching all his powers were displayed at their -highest. He did not read his sermons, but his language -was as abundant and felicitous as his thought, and his -audience was always riveted. Alike in manner and -matter he was quite original. He imitated no preacher; -he did not care to listen to sermons, and was rarely much -impressed by them when he did. I doubt if he ever read -a volume of sermons unless it was to review them. His -knowledge of the Bible and his knowledge of life gave -him inexhaustible stores; he had always matter in -advance, and never felt that sterility of mind which so -often afflicts the preacher. He would retell the stories -of the Old Testament, and make them live in the light of -to-day. The reality and firmness with which he grasped -life—the life of toiling, struggling, suffering men and -women—was his chief power. His sympathetic imagination -helped him to divine the feelings of various classes -of the young men in business, for example, with a small -salary, and little prospect of rising, forbidden the hope of -honourable love, and tempted to baseness from without -and within. He had an intense concern for the happiness -of home life, and much of his preaching was an -amplification of the words—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse quote2">"To mak' a happy fireside clime</div> -<div class="verse indent2">To weans and wife;</div> -<div class="verse">That's the true pathos and sublime</div> -<div class="verse indent2">Of human life."</div> -</div> - -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mothers' hearts he would win by praying for the "dear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span> -little children asleep in their beds at home." Young -couples he would warn to keep fresh the tenderness -and self-sacrifice of first love. But the sermons which -follow speak for themselves, though nothing can transfer -to the printed page the light and fire of which they were -full as the preacher spoke them.</p> - -<p>Of the helpfulness of his preaching he had from time -to time many testimonies, of which he preserved a few. -These were very welcome to him, far more so than any -appreciation of the intellectual ability or the eloquence -of his sermons. This, from one letter, is a specimen -of many more: "I wandered past my own church in a -heavy weight of business care, knowing that a mortgagee -would this week likely take all I had, and caring little -where I wandered when I went in to hear you, and -was surprised at the text you preached from, and more -so at the helpful words you spoke, which I hope, by -God's grace, will enable me to see—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse quote1">'Behind a frowning providence</div> -<div class="verse indent2">He hides a smiling face.'"</div> -</div> - -</div> -</div> - -<p>He delivered courses of lectures to Sunday-school -teachers under the auspices of the Sunday-school -Union. These were very largely attended and highly -appreciated. He received many letters of encouragement, -among them one from the vicar of a London -church, who wrote that although he could not attend -them all, owing to the exacting nature of his own -work, he listened to those he could be present at with -the deepest attention and the greatest thankfulness. -"That a great scholar should fearlessly approach these -vexed questions, and with his grasp of them be able to -make them popular and understood by the people, and -above all attractive to the people, is to me a great joy. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> -You make the Bible a living book, filled with people -met with in workaday life. You show that the social -problems which superficial minds imagine are utterly -new are only old difficulties under new names, and -that the Bible has a definite word to say upon them, -and its 'Thus saith the Lord' is to be listened to still. -I venture to think that this is the great need of this -fevered age of ours, and I heartily thank you."</p> - -<p>An attempt was made in 1888 by the Westminster -Congregational Church, where he had often preached -with great acceptance, to secure him as pastor. This -invitation he was inclined to accept. The condition of -the Theological College was not at the time satisfactory, -and for that and other reasons it seemed not unlikely -that the call would be closed with. To me, as to others -of his friends, it seemed certain that his physical -strength was wholly inadequate to the position, and -I am glad to think of the urgency with which this view -was pressed on him. He was reassured about the -College, and gratefully declined the invitation. In connection -with it he received the following letter, which -reflects so much honour on all concerned that I venture -to include it here:—</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">London</span>, <i>March 8th,</i> 1888.</div> -</div> - - <p>"<span class="smc">To the Rev. Professor Elmslie</span>, M.A., D.D.—We hear with - sympathetic interest that the Westminster Church is calling you to its - pastorate.</p> - - <p>"The traditions of the Westminster Church are good, its ministry has - always been highly spiritual and largely human, and its importance and - influence have been second to none among the churches of our order in - this great Metropolis.</p> - -<p>"We feel special interest in this call from the fact that it will - involve on your part the crossing of the - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span> - denominational boundary between Presbyterianism and Congregationalism. - Identical though the churches practically are in the foundation of - their theological belief, we appreciate the strain upon early and - sacred association which this may involve, with, however, this - compensation, that, borne in answer to a call for service and - furtherance of the kingdom of Christ, it is a practical and valuable - evidence that the sister denominations are truly wings in the one great - army of God.</p> - -<p>"Should you accept this call to the highly honourable post which the - Westminster Church offers you, we beg to assure you of the cordial - welcome, brotherly sympathy, and, as the occasion may arise, the - friendly co-operation of the ministers of our body.</p> - -<p>"It is unusual for the representatives of other churches to intervene - in cases of this kind, but understanding there may be questions in your - mind as to the feelings with which you would be received into the ranks - of the Congregational ministry, we have thought it right, on the - suggestion of a representative of the Westminster Church, to give you - this assurance.</p> - -<p>"With best wishes for your future welfare and highest prosperity,</p> - -<div class="list"> -<ul> - <li>"Yours fraternally,<br /></li> - <li>"Alexander Hannay,</li> - <li>"Henry Allon,</li> - <li>"J. C. Harrison,</li> - <li>"J. Guinness Rogers,</li> - <li>"Andrew Mearns,</li> - <li>"Samuel Newth,</li> - <li>"Joseph Parker,</li> - <li>"Robert F. Horton,</li> - <li>"John Kennedy,</li> - <li>"John Fredk. Stevenson,</li> - <li>"R. Vaughan Pryce,</li> - <li>"Alfred Cave,</li> - <li>"John Stoughton,</li> - <li>"Henry Robert Reynolds."</li> -</ul> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p>It is unnecessary to refer in detail to the numerous -invitations to Presbyterian pulpits which reached him -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span> -from time to time. Some of these were from Scotland, -on which he looked back with mingled feelings. He -did not willingly turn his face to the north, or think -of it with much pleasure. "I worked too hard there," -he would say. On the other hand, he writes from -Edinburgh in 1880—"I had a splendid talk, fit to be -printed, with Taylor Innes, Davidson, and Iverach. -I think I might become a great divine with such -stimulating society."</p> - -<p>Elmslie's connection with the Congregationalists not -only greatly heightened his estimate of the loyalty and -piety still abiding in the Nonconformist churches of -England; it also brought him more fully into the current -of modern life. He began to be deeply interested in -politics, which he had previously rather held aloof from, -became a diligent reader of newspapers, and was led to -an absorbing interest in Socialism, on which he delivered -a memorable address in Exeter Hall in connection with -the Pan-Presbyterian Council of 1888. In politics he -was an ardent Liberal and a thoroughgoing Home -Ruler.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">Dr. Elmslie added to his other engagements some -of a literary kind. He became adviser to the firm -of Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, of 27, Paternoster -Row, and occupied this position for a few years with -great satisfaction on both sides. His work was to -write estimates of any manuscripts Messrs. Hodder and -Stoughton submitted for his consideration, and that he -did it incisively and honestly the following specimen, -selected almost at random, will show:—</p> - -<p>"Energetic, intelligent, earnest discourses on the -lines of the old Evangelical Protestant school, not in any -way original in exposition or fresh in presentation, but -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span> -quite sensible, vigorous, and good. That they are not -up to date appears in such a reference as this: 'The -excitement caused in this country by the publication of -"Essays and Reviews," and subsequently of Bishop -Colenso's heretical works, is still fresh in our memories,' -etc. Even if thoroughly rubbed up and revised, the -sermons would only sell where writer's name would -carry them, and to some extent to preachers in search -of ready-made discourses."</p> - -<p>He ceased to act in this capacity some time before -his death, but continued to be a constant visitor to -No. 27, where his appearance gave pleasure to every -one in the place. His inaugural lecture on Ernest -Renan was published in the excellent "Present-day -Tracts" of the Religious Tract Society, and was very -well received. He had often heard Renan lecture, and -was thoroughly conversant with his books. To the -<i>Expositor</i> he made some contributions, but in spite of -pressure, delayed publishing extended articles. In -<i>Good Words</i> and the <i>Sunday Magazine</i> some of his -sermons were published from time to time. To the -<i>British Weekly</i> he was a large contributor, mostly of -short anonymous reviews and paragraphs; occasionally -he would write an extended critique or a travel sketch. -But he was making ready for work as an author. A -remark made by Dr. Marcus Dods had sunk into his mind; -it was to the effect that men should study till they were -forty, and then publish the result of their studies. He -had arranged to begin writing and to give up preaching, -and had he lived this purpose would have been carried -out. His schemes were numerous, but the chief was to -write a book which should make the Old Testament -intelligible—its contents and message—to the common -people. He had made a careful study of the Minor -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></span> -Prophets, the result of which will shortly appear in -a popular commentary.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">So his life went on, useful, happy, honoured, and but -too busy. In 1888 he received the degree of Doctor -of Divinity from his Alma Mater. In the same year -he preached the opening sermon at the Nottingham -meeting of the Congregational Union. This high -honour was never before conferred on a Presbyterian -minister. He enjoyed social intercourse, and in recent -years had much of it. He had many pleasant Continental -holidays. But the claims upon him constantly -increased, and alas! his strength did not. He had -the happiness of being under the care of an accomplished -and skilful physician, who was also an intimate -friend—Dr. Montague Murray. I need not speak of -the faithful care that never ceased its vigilance. But -although often warned against overwork, and constantly -paying the penalty in severe headaches, no serious -danger was apprehended. I am anxious to make it -clear that he did not wilfully throw his life away. He -apprehended no danger, and thought he was taking -sufficient precautions. The last summer of his life he -took two Continental holidays. He loved life. His last -years were his best—the brightest and the fullest of -influence. If one had been asked to say who among -his friends had the prospect of the surest happiness and -the greatest influence, he would have named Elmslie -without hesitation. It was in such a noon that his sun -went down.</p> - -<p>He spent September 1889 in the Engadine. Although -he enjoyed the trip he benefited from it less than he -had hoped, and began the work of his classes with a -certain feeling of weariness. He did not, however, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span> -imagine that anything was seriously wrong, and accepted -many engagements for the winter. He preached with -wonderful eloquence to crowded audiences in St. John's -Wood Presbyterian Church on the Sunday evenings -of October, and had promised to take anniversary -services on Sunday, November 3rd, for the Rev. -John Watson, M.A., of Sefton Park Church, Liverpool. -Although unable to go to College on the previous -Friday, he was anxious not to disappoint his friend, and -accordingly went to Liverpool. His medical adviser -reluctantly allowed him to preach once. He officiated -at the forenoon service, getting help from one of his -students in the service. That afternoon he spent in -bed, and he was too unwell to return to London till -Wednesday. Dr. Murray saw he was seriously ill, and -ordered that all his engagements should be postponed. -On Thursday, however, he lectured at the College, but on -Friday he was prostrated, and remained so till Tuesday, -when unconsciousness set in. He suffered from agonizing -headache. Symptoms of diphtheritic sore throat -set in on Sunday, November 10th. On Tuesday the -medical man in attendance pronounced the disease to -be typhoid fever, and after the evening of that day he -was never conscious. His busy brain worked on. -The faithful friend and physician, who hardly left his -side, says he never heard such intelligent unconscious -talk. If his mind travelled to the scene of his recent -journeys he would give directions in German about -ordering rooms, arranging for dinner and the like, with -perfect clearness. More often he would fancy himself -in his class-room teaching Hebrew, and urging the -students to put heart into their work. Over and over he -spoke to his wife of what had been the master thought -of his life. Lifting his hand he would say with great -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span> -earnestness, "No man can deny that I always preached -the love of God. That was right. I am glad I did -not puzzle poor sorrowful humanity with abstruse -doctrines, but always tried to win them to Christ by -preaching a God of Love." Once he turned to her with -wistful eyes and said, "Kate, God is Love. All Love. -We will tell every one that, but specially our own boy—at -least you will, for I seem to be so tired these -days, and my one wonder and trouble is, that all these -people (meaning the nurses) try to prevent me from -going home, where we were always so happy." He -was reassured for the moment, when some familiar -object was pointed out, and asked that he should often -be told that he was at home. He was soon to go -home indeed. He recognised his wife on Friday, with -the last signs of consciousness. Shortly after he -became faint, closed his eyes, and never opened them -again on earth. About four o'clock on the morning of -November 16th, 1889, he quietly passed away.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">Scarcely any death could have made a greater rent -than this, and the tokens of sorrow—public and private—were -almost unexampled in the case of one who -held no high office in Church or State, who had not -lived long enough to make his mark in literature, who -had sought no fame or honour, but had been content -with doing his duty as it called him day by day. -The funeral service was conducted in Marylebone -Presbyterian Church (Dr. Donald Fraser's), of which -he was a member. Dr. Fraser and Dr. Allon delivered -addresses, while Dr. Dykes and Dr. Monro Gibson -offered up prayer. The great church was crowded -with a deeply moved audience of two thousand persons, -every one of whom probably represented some word -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span> -spoken or some service rendered by the kind heart -then cold. He was buried at Liverpool next day by -the side of his mother, his attached friend and colleague -the Rev. Dr. Gibb, being among those present at the -interment. A service was conducted at the Presbyterian -College, where Principal Dykes delivered a deeply -moving address. "You may send us another Hebrew -Professor," said he, "and we shall welcome him, but -you cannot send us another Elmslie."</p> - -<p>Tributes from the Presbyteries of the Church, from -congregations of various denominations to which he -had ministered, from well-known Church leaders, from -old students, and, not least, from unknown men and -women whom he had helped and comforted, poured in. -They were too numerous to be quoted or further referred -to, but the intensity and turmoil of feeling -expressed in them, showed that the sorrow for him was -as deep as its appointed signs were extensive. One -for whom much sympathy was felt, his aged father, -seemed to bear up bravely against the blow. He received -with eager gratitude the abundant testimonies -to the honour and love in which his son was held. But -the grief had gone to his heart, he soon began to -sink, and died a few months later.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">What was said of Henri Perreyve is eminently true -of Elmslie: he was gifted for friendship and for persuasion. -During the last years of his life, the period -when I knew him intimately, he came to what has been -called the grand moral climacteric, and all his nobler -qualities were manifest in their full strength. There -was about him the indefinable charm of atmosphere, -at once stimulating, elevating and composing. He had -an inexplicable personal attraction that drew to it whatever -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span> -loving-kindness there might be in the surroundings, -as certain crystals absorb moisture from the air -they breathe. In his company speech became of a -sweeter and purer flavour. There was no austerity, -no Pharisaism about him; he delighted in fun and -gave himself a large liberty; but nothing he said -or welcomed marred the moral beauty which he had -reached through long self-discipline.</p> - -<p>No one could know him long without perceiving that -he was full of generous ardour for pure aims. His was -not the coarse ambition for the glittering prizes of life, -nor was his enthusiasm such as would have cooled with -time. In that delicate and watchful consideration for -others, which has been called the most endearing of -human characteristics, he could hardly be surpassed. -He concerned himself with the whole life of his friends, -and especially with their trials and perplexities. Dr. -Elmslie was, indeed, one of the very few men to whom -one might go in an emergency, sure of a welcome more -kindly if possible than would have been accorded in -a time of prosperity. His whole energies were solicitously -given to the task of comforting. If things could -be set right he delighted in applying his singular nimbleness -of mind to the situation. He was adroit in action, -and almost amusingly fertile in schemes and suggestions. -I think it is safe to say that all his friends felt it was -better worth while talking over a difficulty with him -than with any one else. Even in cases of moral failure—perhaps -I should say specially in those cases—he was -eager to do what was possible. He had a profound -and compassionate sense of the frailty of men, their -sore struggles and thick temptations. Wherever he -saw true repentance he would do his utmost to secure -a fresh opportunity for the erring. He thought the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> -Christian Church sadly remiss in allowing so many lives -to be ruined by one great fault. Out of an income which, -for a man of his talents, was not great, he gave largely, -secretly, and with the most careful discrimination.</p> - -<p>His spirit in speaking of others, whether friends or -foes was always charitable. But I must guard against -the danger of mistake. He did not indulge in indiscriminate -laudation. His perception of character was very -keen, he was not a hero-worshipper, and he had always -a certain impatience of extravagant and unmeasured -speech. But he had learned the secret of not expecting -from people more than they have to give, and this, -along with the generosity of his nature, helped him to -make large allowance for what seemed unhopeful and -disappointing, and made him eager to do justice and more -than justice to whatever was good. On occasion however, -he would with grave kindness point out the -limitations of a character, and sometimes, though very -rarely, he would be moved to vehemence as he spoke -of modern religious Pharisaism.</p> - -<p>In conversation he was ready alike to listen and to -speak. Nothing gave him greater delight than a long -and animated talk. He loved individuality in whatever -sphere it was manifested, and would often relate with -delight the racy remarks made to him by poor people. -Of decorous commonplace he was rather impatient, -and complained once that a young man of promise, -with whom he had spent a day, had said nothing during -the whole of it but what he ought to have said.</p> - -<p>Dr. Elmslie had abundantly that charity which -"rejoiceth not in iniquity." It gave him real pain to -hear of the mistakes and misfortunes of men. Without -a trace of jealousy, he delighted in any success or happiness -that came to his friends. Of all virtues he most -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span> -admired magnanimity, and when he was told of generous -actions, his face would glow with pleasure. To the -spirit of malice and revenge he was always and utterly -opposed. Like other public men he was occasionally -attacked; the fancied breadth of his religious views -excited animosity in certain quarters and was at times -the subject of anonymous letters. He would regret -that his critics did not know him better, and might -show pain for the moment, but it was soon past. He -never in any way retaliated.</p> - -<p>Dr. Elmslie had no dæmonic passion for literature. -For books as books he had no love, and this indifference -disturbed some of his associates not a little. When he -had got out of a book what he could he exchanged it -for another. Hence his personal library was small, -consisting mostly of Oriental literature, and some -favourite French and German works. But his reading -was wide, and he knew the best in everything. He was -master of French, German, Italian, and Dutch, and had -a working knowledge of other languages. Of his preferences -in literature he did not often speak; when he did -he would say that to George Eliot and Goethe he owed -much and very much.</p> - -<p>No one could be his friend without perceiving that -he was through and through a Christian. In his later -years his doubts seemed completely conquered. You -saw nothing but the strength he had gained in overcoming -them. He held his faith with a certain large -simplicity, but with absolute conviction. Among all his -attracting qualities the chief was his great hope in God. -He was indeed "very sure of God." Latterly, he could -hardly listen without impatience to gloomy forecasts of -the future. He believed that all was right with the -world; that Christ was busy saving it, and would see of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span> -the travail of His soul. Men prone to darker thoughts -loved him very much for that. No sickness, no bodily -suffering, ever altered this mood of trust and hope.</p> - -<p>His dogmatic position is not easy to define. Although -liberal in his views he disliked rashness; and avoided -giving offence so far as he could. My impression is, -that he held an attitude of suspense towards many -debated questions. He did not feel the need of making -up his mind. The truths of which he was sure gave -him all the message he needed, and these were independent -of the controversies of the hour. But he kept -an open mind, and was ever ready to add to his working -creed. He could not preach what did not thoroughly -possess his own soul, but never dreamt that he had -reached finality, and I think was increasingly disposed -to respect the doctrines, which, as history proves, have -stirred and commanded men. A thorough Liberal and -Nonconformist, he knew comparatively little of the -Church of England, and was repelled by its exclusive -spirit, but when told of the great qualities of the younger -High Church leaders, he listened with interest and -pleasure. He was happy in being able to think more -kindly and hopefully of men from whom he was divided -in principle. As has been already said, he considered -the spiritual life of Congregationalists very deep and -true; he loved the warm old-fashioned piety he found -among them, and heartily believed in their future. -Of the differences among Nonconformists he made -nothing, was a vehement advocate of union, and strongly -opposed to whatever interrupted cordial relations between -Churches.</p> - -<p>Though never chary in speaking of his religious -experiences he did not obtrude them. A real belief -in immortality he thought could hardly exist without -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></span> -other faiths being right. Such a belief would give life its -true shape and colour. He was very patient of honest -doubts, but had to make himself sure that they were -honest, not the cloak of moral laxness. What he loved -best to speak of was the magnificence of Divine grace—the -love of God commended in Christ's death.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">But it is time to lay down the pen. We may apply -to Dr. Elmslie words, used, I think, about an American -writer: his charm was of the kind that we fail to -reduce to its grounds. It was like that of the sweetness -of a piece of music, or the softness of fine September -weather. In a certain way it was vague, indefinable, -inappreciable; but it is what we must point to, for -nothing he has left behind gives any adequate idea -of his powers. Friendship occupied an immense -space in his life, and all who knew him are conscious -that,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse indent10">Now the candid face is hid,</div> -<div class="verse">The frank, sweet tongue has ceased to move,</div> -</div> - -</div> -</div> - -<p class="nodent">something has gone from them never to be replaced till -that daybreak which shall unite all who belong to one -another. But over the sense of their own loss there -rises and remains the feeling how much God indicates -in this life of which only some small portion is fulfilled. -The world of expectation and love thus suddenly closed -for earth must be open somewhere. There must be -ministries in other spheres for which he was prepared -and summoned. His life must—we know not how—be -complete in Him, Who alone of all who lived fully -achieved His life's programme, Who came down from -Heaven to do His Father's business, and having done it -died.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></div> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="center"><span class="smc">From the Rev. Professor Marcus Dods, D.D.</span></div> -</div> - - <p>"From my first acquaintance with the late Professor Elmslie, I availed - myself of every opportunity of seeing him, for intercourse with him - never failed to be inspiring. Our acquaintance may be said to have - culminated in a five weeks' tramp through the Black Forest and the - Tyrol, in company with Professor Drummond—to myself a - never-to-be-forgotten holiday. Often compelled to sleep in one room, - and always thrown upon one another from sunrise to sundown, we came to - have a tolerably complete insight into one another's character. And for - my own part, I never ceased to marvel at the unfailing good humour and - gaiety with which Elmslie put up with the little inconveniences - incident to such travel, at the brightness he diffused in four - languages, at the sparkling wit with which he seasoned the most - commonplace talk, and at the ease and felicity with which he turned his - mind to the gravest problems of life and of theology, and penetrated to - the very heart of them. His cleverness, his smartness of repartee, his - nimbleness of mind, his universal sympathy and complete intelligence - were each hour a fresh surprise, and were as exhilarating as the - mountain air and the new scenes through which we were passing. I have - often reproached myself with not treasuring the fine sayings with which - he lifted us into a region in which former difficulties were scarcely - discernible and not at all disturbing. But, indeed, one might as well - have tried to bottle the atmosphere for home consumption, for into - everything he said and did he carried a buoyancy and a light all his - own.</p> - -<p>"As a preacher Professor Elmslie was, in many of - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> - the highest qualities of a preacher, without a peer. No one, I think, - appreciated more highly than he the opportunity the preacher of Christ - has to apply balm to all the wounds of humanity, and no one exercised - this function with a more intelligent or tender sympathy or with - happier results. No human condition, physical, mental, or spiritual, - seemed beyond his ken, and none but found in him the suitable - treatment. His wealth of knowledge, his unerring spiritual insight, and - his rare felicity of language gave him the ear of cultured and - uncultured, of the believer and the sceptic alike. It has always seemed - doubtful to some of his friends whether such exceptional aptitude for - preaching should have been, even in any degree, sacrificed to - professorial work. Yet he himself delighted in that work, and the very - last time I saw him he was full of enthusiasm for Old Testament - studies, and hopeful of what might be done by himself and his - fellow-labourers in this field.</p> - -<p>"When so energetic an individuality is withdrawn the world suffers an - appreciable loss; and one cannot yet think of the place he filled, or - of the place we all hoped he would yet fill, without a keen shoot of - pain."</p> - -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="ltr"> - - <p class="center"><span class="smc">From Professor Henry Drummond.</span></p> - - <p>"<span class="smc">Dear Mr. Nicoll</span>,—It is futile to plead want of recollection - as an excuse for what must be a too brief contribution to your little - portrait, for no one who ever knew Elmslie could ever forget him. But - the truth is, I never knew him well. At college he was too much my - senior for me to have presumed to know him, and in after years we - scarcely ever met, except on one occasion, for more than a passing - moment.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></div> - - <p>"I never heard Elmslie preach, or lecture, or do anything public. I - knew him chiefly as a human being. Elmslie off the chair was one of the - most attractive spirits who ever graced this planet. It was not so much - his simple character, or the bubbling and irresistible - <i>bonhommie</i>, or even the amazing versatility of his gifts, but a - certain radiance that he carried with him, a certain something that - made you sun yourself in his presence, and open the pores of your soul, - and be happy. I think I can recall no word that he ever spoke, or even - any idea that he ever forged, but the <i>man</i> made an impression on - you indelibly delightful and joyous.</p> - -<p>"My first distinct impression of him was crossing the College - quadrangle with 'Romola' under his arm. He was kind enough to stop and - introduce me to the authoress, whom I forthwith proceeded to cultivate - assiduously. Shortly after this Elmslie gave a supper-party, a function - much too rare among Scotch students. I had the honour to be invited to - represent the juniors—an act of pure mercy, for I then neither knew - Elmslie nor his set. If I were now asked by a senior man at college how - he could best influence his less-advanced colleagues, I should answer, - 'Make him your debtor for life by asking him up to your rooms.' Of the - entertainment itself—the literary entertainment, I mean—I remember - little; it was the being there that helped me. And what I do remember I - do not know that I ought to divulge, for the <i>pièce de - resistance</i> was the Hans Breitman Ballads, which - Elmslie carved and served himself, with extraordinary relish, - throughout most of the evening.</p> - -<p>"It was this same man, unchanged by the weight of years and work, whom - I met several years after in the Black Forest, and accompanied for some - weeks in a - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> - walking tour. The third member of the party was Dr. Marcus Dods, and we - tramped with our knapsacks through the Tyrol, the dolomite country, and - the Saltzkammergut. Elmslie at first was full of the Strasburg - professors under whom he had been studying, but after a few days I saw - no more of his wisdom, for he gave himself up like a schoolboy to the - toys of St. Ulrich and the Glockner glaciers. But of this most perfect - of all vacations nothing now remains with me but an impression of - health, sunshine, and gentle friendship.</p> - -<p>"Elmslie's graver side I can only dimly realise from the appearances he - used to make in the Theological Society of the New College, Edinburgh. - I do not remember even the theme of any debate in which he ever took - part, but the figure and voice, and especially the look of the student - as he stood up there amidst the almost awe-stricken hush of his - classmates, lives most vividly in my mind. When Elmslie spoke every one - felt that he at least had something to give, some message of his own. - He never seemed to be merely saying things, <i>i.e.</i> 'making a - speech,' but to be thinking aloud, and that with an intensity and - originality most inspiring and impressive. His voice and tone had that - conviction in them which was as impossible to define as to resist. I - could with difficulty imagine any one moving the previous question - after Elmslie. Another peculiarity, which added greatly to his power, - was that he thought with his whole face. In fact, in listening to him - one did not so much hear a man speaking as see a man thinking. His eyes - on these occasions would become very large and full of light, not of - fire or heat, but of a calm luminosity, expressive of a mingled glow of - reason, conscience, and emotion.</p> - -<p>"One of the last things I read of Elmslie saying was - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span> - that what people needed most was <i>comfort</i>. Probably he never knew - how much his mission, personally, was to give it. I presume he often - preached it, but I think he must always have <i>been</i> it. For all - who knew him will testify that to be in his presence was to leave care, - and live where skies were blue.</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right2">"Yours very sincerely,</div> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">Henry Drummond</span>.</div> -<div class="left1">"<span class="smc">Brindisi</span>, <i>March 17th, 1890</i>."</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<p class="center"><span class="smc">From the Rev. John Smith, M.A.</span></p> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right2">"<span class="smc">Broughton Place United Presbyterian Church,</span></div> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">Edinburgh.</span></div> -</div> - - <p>"It is very difficult, in a few sentences, to convey to another the - impression which gradually grows up from frequent contact with a nature - so sympathetic, clear-sighted, active, and many-sided in its activities - as that of a fellow-student and friend like Elmslie. Acquaintance with - him was mainly confined to two widely sundered periods, both of them - anterior to the last, crowded, brilliant years.</p> - -<p>"It was during the session of 1866-67, at King's College, Aberdeen, - that I first met him. As every one who knew the Aberdeen of that time - is aware, the third year was to most students peculiarly severe. Bain—a - consummate teacher—made distinction in his class appear the blue ribbon - of the college course, for which the best men earnestly contended. - Fuller was merciless in his demands upon his senior mathematical class, - who found, as the months went on, that it was less and less possible to - keep him in sight. And with 'Davy' Thomson there was no trifling,—fear - of his - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> - sarcasm greatly helping our thirst for natural philosophy. As the - session advanced the chariots of most of us drave heavily. Elmslie, - however, who studied everything, seemed to do his work with a masterful - ease which impressed us all. He came up smiling to an examination as if - it were a thing of nought. Study could not blanch the fresh bloom on - his cheek, or damp the lively play of spirit which characterized him - then as much as in after years. I have just been looking at his - portrait in our class group, and at his clear bold signature in the - lithographed autographs which accompanied it. To a singular extent his - personal character was formed, and his peculiar excellencies were - developed, at that early date. He was, when little more than a boy, a - man whose words clung to you, whose ways lingered in your memory. Even - then, too, he had something of that sweet hopeful Christian spirit - which was to make his preaching so helpful. One student, whose - opportunities had been few, whose struggle had been painful in the - extreme, used to speak to me with enthusiasm of Elmslie's kindly notice - and assistance. While other natures were but emerging from chaos, - barely conscious to themselves, giving but the faintest indication to - others what they were to be, he whose course was to be so soon run, was - already girt up and disciplined for life's way.</p> - -<p>"After our college course was completed, I did not meet him till 1878, - when already he had been for some time minister in Willesden. On more - than one occasion, I stayed with him for a day or two, and saw with my - own eyes how full and many-sided a life he was living then, even before - fame came. He was carrying on his studies, advising publishers with - regard to learned and bulky MSS., superintending a railway - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> - mission, maintaining in briskest activity the work of his congregation, - and in these and many other channels winning 'golden opinions from all - sorts of people.' Especially did I admire his faculty of adapting - himself to English ways of thinking and feeling. And amid this - abounding life, and with the promise of all that came after bright - before him, he was so unaffected and ingenuous and humble, never - shrinking from his future, yet not feverishly anticipating it, that it - was impossible not to love him. Here, too, he showed his skill in - discovering elements of strength in men whom others would dismiss as - incompetent. I remember a missionary who succeeded to the astonishment - of everybody, and I verily believe of himself, under his kindly and - stimulating superintendence. It is one of the pleasant memories of my - life that I carried the motion in Synod which made it possible for him - to be elected as permanent Professor. I remember how the Willesden - flock were between smiles and tears all that day, and how when the - second vote was carried which severed the tie between their minister - and them, they did not know whether to be grieved or glad, so strong - was their love, so eager was their desire for his advancement. No one - could hear him speak that night and doubt his future. All that the - great world has since seen in him, we knew to be there, and more, which - would have been revealed had not death so soon sealed his lips.</p> - -<p>"Of the later years, others will speak. Out of these earlier memories I - have woven—all unskilfully I fear, yet with sincere affection—this - modest wreath for his tomb."</p> - -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">{74}</a></div> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - - <p class="center smc">From the Rev. James Stalker, D.D.</p> - -<div class="ltr"> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">6 Clairmont Gardens, Glasgow</span></div> -<div class="right2">"<i>March 24th,</i> 1890.</div> -</div> - - <p>"<span class="smc">Dear Mr. Nicoll</span>,—What a bright time it is to look back to! - There is nothing else in life afterwards quite equal to it. Never again - can one mingle day by day with so many picked men; never is thought so - free; never are there such discoveries and surprises. Those years in - the New College have in the retrospect almost a dazzling brightness, - and Elmslie contributed more, perhaps, than any one else to make them - what they were.</p> - -<p>"I just missed being by his side all the four years, for we entered - together; but after a week or so I left to go abroad with the Barbours, - to whom I was tutor. I have no recollection of him that session, for I - had not gone in for the bursary examination, where any one competing - with him was pretty certain to be made aware of Elmslie to his cost. - Next session, when I returned, I was of course separated from him by a - year, which makes a great difference in college life. But for three - sessions we must have met nearly every day, and I was thrown into the - closest contact with him in the committees and societies where students - of the different years come together.</p> - -<p>"The Theological Society was at that time the centre of the life of the - College. Under Robertson Smith, Lindsay and Black, whose last year was - Elmslie's first, it had entered on a career of the most brilliant - activity, in which, I suppose, it has never faltered since. We used to - say, in our exaggerative way, that we got more good from it than from - all the classes put - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></span> - together. And indeed it would be difficult to over-estimate the gain - to be obtained from debates for which the leading men prepared - carefully, being stimulated by audiences of fifty or a hundred to do - their very utmost. Questions of Biblical Criticism were at that time - the staple of the most important discussions; and then were fought out - in secret the very battles which are now about to be fought out in the - Church under the eyes of the world, with very much the same division of - parties and amid the play of the same passions.</p> - -<p>"It was here that Elmslie first unfolded his marvellous powers as a - speaker. At the University I had been a member of the Dialectic, where - there were one or two fine speakers. One of them was more fluent and - agreeable to listen to than any one I have ever heard since; - another—long ago, alas! gone over to the majority—spoke with a freer - play of mere intellectual force than even Elmslie possessed. But I had - never before, and have never since, heard speaking which, taken all in - all, quite came up to that to which Elmslie treated us Friday after - Friday. The combination of powers was the marvel of it—the knowledge, - the clearness of exposition, the fecundity of ideas, the telling force - with which he put his points, the play of fancy, the exuberant wit and - humour, the tenderness and pathos into which he could glide for a - moment if it invited him; there was no resource which he had not at - perfect command. Yet it was entirely without display; he was always - perfectly natural and familiar. He never won a triumph which humiliated - any one; and, whilst others by expounding the same free views excited - bitter feelings of opposition, he had the gift of saying the most - revolutionary things in such a way - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span> - that no one was hurt; his weapon, though it cut deep, having the - marvellous property of diffusing an anæsthetic on the wound it made.</p> - -<p>"If it is necessary to throw some shade into a picture so bright, I - should say that in those days his speaking had one defect: while he had - always complete mastery of his subject, he rarely made the impression - that the subject had complete mastery of him. He could play with it so - easily, and he could play so easily with his audience, that, as part of - the audience, you felt that you were not quite sure whether he was - giving you all his mind or only as much of it as he considered good for - you. He had not yet been gripped so tightly by the realities of life as - he was later, when his sense of the wrong and misery of the world - transformed his eloquence into an irresistible stream of passion and - made him the most earnest and whole-hearted of comforters. As yet the - bantering, laughing element was in excess; and he did not always - remember where to draw the line in the <i>abandon</i> of animal - spirits. I used to wonder how it would do when he was settled as the - moderator of a session of 'douce' Scotch elders.</p> - -<p>"But to us at the time it was splendid. It was in one of our sessions - that Dr. Blaikie founded the College dinner, which has since proved so - valuable an institution, bringing all the students together daily in a - social capacity; and any day you could have told where Elmslie was - seated at the table by the explosions of laughter rising in that - quarter all through the meal. Men strove to sit near him, and he - diffused a glow up and down, his budget of stories never getting - exhausted or his flow of spirits flagging. I well remember a speech he - made at the close of the first session during - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span> - which the dinner existed, to thank Professor Blaikie for his efforts on - behalf of the students and congratulate him on the success of his - experiment. It was, perhaps, the most remarkable of all Elmslie's - speeches. Professors and students alike were simply convulsed with - laughter, and one explosion followed another, till the assembly was - literally dissolved; yet under all the nonsense there was capital - sense, and the duty which he had undertaken could not have been more - gracefully or completely discharged.</p> - -<p>"On the serious side of college life he was equally a leader. His - enormous influence over his fellow-students was uniformly pure and - elevating; and in confidential hours, when conversation went down to - the depths of experience, it was easy to see that his life, which was - so gay and exuberant on the surface, was deeply rooted in loyalty to - Christ. He threw himself heartily into the work of the Missionary - Society in the Cowgate and the High Street. We began one winter to - speak in the open air, but none of us were successful till we brought - down Murray, who afterwards also went to the English Presbyterian - Church and finished his career even sooner than Elmslie. Murray was no - scholar, but in ten minutes he had a crowd round him extending - halfway across the street, while we could never attract more than - forty or fifty. It was a lesson which we often afterwards discussed - with no small astonishment.</p> - -<p>"I remember an incident of the Mission which Elmslie used to tell with - great gusto. He was addressing the Children's Church on the story of - Samson and the lion, when, observing that the children were not - attending, he, instead of saying that the lion roared, emitted as near - an approach to the roar itself as he could command. Instantly there was - breathless attention; and when, - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span> - after pausing long enough to allow for the full effect, he was about to - proceed, a little girl cried out anxiously, 'O sir, do it again!' On - another occasion he stopped to reprove rather sharply a boy who was - very restless, when a companion, springing up, told him with great - solemnity that he ought not to speak so to this boy, because he was - deaf and dumb. Taken completely aback, Elmslie began humbly to - apologise, when the whole class burst out into a shout of laughter at - the skill with which he had been taken in. The boy could both hear and - speak.</p> - -<p>"After he went south I saw him very seldom. Once he caught me in London - and took me out to preach at Willesden, where I was immensely impressed - with his hold on the people and the extent of the field of influence he - had opened up. Like his other friends, I was very impatient for some - literary production worthy of his genius, and, when the brilliant tract - on Renan appeared, I took the liberty of writing him urgently on the - subject. It was always my hope that before very long we should be able - to entice him back across the Border, to adorn a chair in one of our - colleges. I did not hear of his illness till you wrote me that he was - just dying. 'God moves in a mysterious way.' I have no hesitation in - saying that Elmslie was by far the most brilliant man I have ever - known, and there was never a human being more lovable. He seemed to be - the man we needed most; but it is little we know; the Master must have - had need of him elsewhere.</p> - -<div class="top"> -<div class="right2">"Believe me yours most truly,</div> -<div class="right1">"<span class="smc">James Stalker</span>."</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></div> - -<p class="gap-above center x-large">SERMONS.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></div> - -<h2>I.<br /> -<i>CHRIST AT THE DOOR.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, -and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and -he with Me."—<span class="smc">Rev.</span> iii. 20.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">GOD is close to us. Every moment of our life He -is doing countless things in us and around us. -If a man were to do these things we should see him -with our eyes, we could touch him with our hands; we -should not fail to observe his presence. Because we -cannot see God with our bodily eye, or grasp Him -with our hand, we forget His working, we lose sight of -His nearness.</p> - -<p>When you were children, some time or other, I -suppose, in your young lives, you got hold of a flower-seed, -and planted it in a pot of moist earth, and set it -in the sunniest corner of your room. Morning after -morning, when you awoke, you ran to see if the flower -had begun to grow. At last your eagerness was -rewarded by the sight of some tiny leaves which had -sprung up during one night. Then the stalk appeared, -frail and tender, and then more leaves, and buds, and -branchlets, till at length there stood, blooming before -you, a fair and fragrant flower.</p> - -<p>Who made it? Somebody worked to produce that -flower. It could not make itself. The dead earth -could not shape that lovely leaf; the bright sunshine -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> -could not paint those tendrils. A deep-thinking man, -when he sees these wonderful things, must ask himself, -Who fashioned them? Not the sunshine nor the air, -but God, if there is a God, willed that that plant should -grow. God toiled to make the plant—in your room, at -your side.</p> - -<p>At this moment, in your breast, your heart is beating. -All your life it has gone on beating. It is not you who -sustain its motion. Even when you forget it, when -you are asleep, its pulsations do not cease. Somebody -works to keep your heart beating. God, who is the -foundation of all life, out of whose loving heart it -streams, and back to whom it must return, has to -remember your heart.</p> - -<p>But God comes still nearer to you. Do you remember -a time in your life when, in your inmost heart, that -hidden, secret chamber where you dream your dreams, -and love your loves, and pour out your sorrows all -alone, you felt a strange influence? It was a vague -unrest, a great self-weariness. It was as if all brightness, -hope, and satisfaction had gone from your life, -and had left behind them, in departing, a sick, wistful -longing to find something new, something brighter, -better, and more noble than you yet had known. It -was as if you could hear voices calling, and your heart -moved within you, as if some new friend might be -there. Do you know what that was? It was God. -It was the great Heart that made your heart, longing -and pleading to have it for His own. "Behold, I stand -at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and -open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with -him, and he with Me." Do you believe that? You, men -and women, who love your Bible, and are angry if any -man seems to speak against it, or throw doubt upon -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span> -one jot or tittle of its letter, have you ever thought -what that means if it is true? Ay! it stands written -there, and you have read it a hundred times, and think -you believe it; but do you indeed know what it means? -It means that God, the Eternal, Infinite, Almighty God, -who wields these worlds of shining stars, and keeps -them in their mighty courses; that God, the Spotless, -the Holy, the Stainless, cares with a great longing to -have the heart and love of <i>you</i>; you, who are no saint; -you, the most commonplace and lowly, the most insignificant -and sinful of men. Is that easy to believe? -Is it easy to believe that God would miss something if -your heart never went out in tender affection and adoration -towards Him; that He should take pains and -trouble to get Himself into your poor, battered heart—that -heart which is so filled with sordid cares as to how -you may make a living, and the envyings and strivings -which accompany; in which such sinful, base, and -vicious thoughts too often dwell? Is it possible that -the great, holy God wishes to get in there?</p> - -<p>It is not easy to believe it. One of the greatest -religious thinkers who ever lived, by the confession of -believers and unbelievers alike; a man who laboured -so much under the effort to find out God, and became -so absorbed in the quest, that the name of "God-intoxicated" -was applied to him; a man who conceived more -than any one else of the grandeur and transcendency of -God, till he found this poor world of ours and the whole -universe fade into insignificance before the thought of -Him; this man, this great philosopher, Spinoza, said, -"A man should love God with his whole being, but he -must not expect God to love him in return." And -the bible says, "We love Him, because He first loved -us." Which is true?</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></div> - -<p>There are two things, I think, which make it hard to -believe that we can be of consequence to God—that -God holds each one of us in a separate thought of -knowledge, sympathy, and Fatherly affection. One of -them is this: How is it possible for God to do it? -Think of the myriads of men and women on this world -of ours, and the possibility of this universe teeming -with countless creatures of God's creative power and -Fatherly love. How is it possible that God should -know each one of us, and love us each one? God, so -omnipotent, so transcendent, so almighty! But the -very thing that makes the difficulty to our reason -seems to me the very thing that should undo it. If -God were not so great, then I could not have the hope -that I was something to Him <i>by myself</i>.</p> - -<p>Is it not a fact that it is precisely a weak, uncultured, -low, and undeveloped intellect that finds it difficult to -give attention to a great mass of details, holding each -apart, and doing justice to each? Precisely as you -rise in the scale of intellect and mental power, that -capacity increases quite incalculably. It is the great -genius of a general who not merely directs his army as -a mass, but holds it at every point, knows the value of -every unit of force at his command, follows the movement of -each squadron, troop, and even of each single -individual, and precisely by this faculty is able to overthrow -the enemy and lead the army to victory.</p> - -<p>You have listened to a beautiful oratorio, where -scores of instruments and hundreds of voices were all -blended together in one tide of magnificent harmony. -How is it possible for a small intellect to keep them -thus in unison? It requires a master-mind in music -to do this—one that is fully conscious of the value of -each string and voice, and who can therefore combine -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> -them all in glorious harmony. And God is almighty; -it is nothing to Him that He is far away from you; -you, a speck of dust upon this world. It is precisely -because I believe in God's omnipotence that I can -believe that He cares for each separate creature He -has made.</p> - -<p>But then there is another question. Even if God -can love each one of us, apart from all the rest, with -an individual, personal, watchful kindness, what right -have we to think that He should care to do it? Once -again, that difficulty need but be faced, and you discover -that it is a delusive spectre and empty of reality.</p> - -<p>Is it likely that God should miss the love of me, His -creature?</p> - -<p>Turn to the early chapters of Genesis, and read the -story they have to tell you. They tell you how through -measureless periods of time, in the fields of infinite -space, the great God built up our world; first the stone -foundations, layer upon layer; above that, the strata of -mineral wealth, to be used hereafter, clothing the surface -of it with a verdant soil. Out of the mineral world he -evolved the nutritive, vegetable world, out of vegetable -life the higher creation of animal life, and out of that -emerges man, standing on the summit of God's great -toil and building, with eyes that see, ears that hear, -and mind that can understand, answering to the call of -God, interpreting all the wisdom, patience, beauty, and -love in that mighty labour of creation, and saying, -"Father, I adore Thee." Do you think that man, then, -His last crowning work of creation, is nothing to God? -What should you say of one who spent years and years, -and sank uncounted capital, upon a great mass of -wonderfully contrived machinery, to produce some -beautiful fabric of beneficence to mankind, and when it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span> -was produced turned away and left it all? You would -call such a one a fool, and mad.</p> - -<p>God made this world, and spent toil and industry in -making the heart of man, and keeping it conscious of -Him, capable of loving Him. And do you mean to tell -me that God does not care for human love? It is -impossible. There is no God at all, or the Gospel is -true. He does miss it when your heart does not bend -to Him. The supreme gladness we can give our -Maker is the simple, sincere adoration of our poor -human hearts.</p> - -<p>There is a picture that paints the idea of my text. -It says, to those who look at it, what I could not say -in many paragraphs. A cottage neglected, falling into -ruin, is shown in the picture. In front of the window -tall thistles spring up, and long grass waves on the -pathway, leading to the door overgrown with moss. -In front of that fast-closed door a tall and stately -figure stands, with a face that tells of toil and long, -weary waiting, and with a hand uplifted to knock. It -is Christ, the Son of God, seeking to get into our sinful -hearts. Is it true that there can be a man or woman -who refuses to admit so fair a guest, so great and good -a friend? It must be true. "Behold, I stand at the -door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open -the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, -and he with Me."</p> - -<p>But you think you can justify yourself. You say to -me, "I feel it were a mad, foolish thing to refuse to -admit to my own, if it be true, the loving heart of God, -and a thing altogether unjustifiable. You say He -comes and knocks at our hearts—that He calls and asks -us to let Him in. No; many have called at the door -of my heart, but I never knew Christ to call or knock. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> -If ever He had, I think I should have let Him in." I -believe you speak the truth, but I am certain that -Christ has been to your heart.</p> - -<p>Let me speak plainly to you. There may be various -reasons why you have failed to detect His presence. -Perchance your life has not been so good as even -common morality would have made it, and now your -heart is a very dreary place, filled with painful memories. -Perhaps you are always outside, gadding about, and do -not like to dwell alone in your heart and think; and so -when Christ knocks and calls He finds empty rooms; -or if even you are there you are not there alone, but you -have filled its chambers with a noisy, revelling company -and din. The call has reached you as a dim, half-heard, -strange sound, which moved you half pleasantly -and half with pain. You turned in your heart and -listened for an instant, but there was something in -the sound too painful, and you plunged back again into -revelry and mirth. You did not know that it was God, -the very heart of God, that had knocked and called.</p> - -<p>Again, your life may have been very respectable, but -very light and frivolous, engrossed in earthly affairs; -and Christ has come, and you did not know it. For -He comes in such simple, human guise. You remember -when He came on earth the poor Jews did not know -Him for more than the carpenter's son. He comes like -that to you and me. He takes a human hand, and -with its fingers knocks, but all you see and recognise is -the human touch. You do not see the heart Divine -that touches you through it with an appealing thrill.</p> - -<p>Thank God, there are so many good mothers in this -world. Thank God for the little children, and the lads -and maidens here, whom a mother's memory follows -like a very angel, often after she herself has gone. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">{88}</a></span> -You remember that Sabbath evening custom when you -and the little ones knelt at your mother's knee, and she -told you the stories of the Bible; and the last one was -always about the gentle Jesus, meek and mild, who -came to the world with such a great heart of love, who -knew no sin at all, who was so good to women and -children and the very worst of broken-hearted sinners, -and whom men with hard hearts and cruel hands took -and crucified; oh, such a death of pain for <i>you</i>! till -you could almost see His face on the cross. And your -mother's voice had got so low and reverent that it felt -as if some one else was in the room, and your young -child's heart grew so soft and loving to that Christ that -died for you. Yes, He was there. Did you take Him -quite inside? Or if you took Him in for a little while -did you let Him go again, when your heart grew -colder? Oh, young men and maidens who had a -mother like that, remember her, and take that Christ -into your hearts!</p> - -<p>Some of you can remember a time when you had -grown many years older, and perhaps had memories -you would not like your mother to know of. And God -struck you down with a great illness, and for a long -time you were at the point of death. But at last the -crisis was past, and you woke out of unconsciousness, -brought back to life again, weak as a little child. All -the din and turmoil of your manhood's life seemed to -have faded in the distance, and once again you became -as a little child. Do you remember how you felt when -you turned that corner between life and death? Somehow, -old memories came back to you—perhaps because -your body was so weak—the memory of old days, of -the father and mother, and the church in the country, -and of all the things that were said and done. And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></span> -then there came a wish that many things in your later -life had never been done by you; a strange, solemn -sense that there is a God; and into your heart a feeling -of repentance for the past, and a wish to do better in -the future. And you were so tired, and wished for a -friend to speak to you in these words: "Come unto Me, -all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give -you rest." Afterwards you got stronger and said, -"Perhaps it was only weakness." But I tell you it -was the living, loving Christ, seeking to get into your -heart.</p> - -<p>I cannot stop to enumerate the countless knocks and -calls that come to all of us, in those strange aspirations -that come with the secret, tender affections, the dreams -of love and truth. For God's sake, never be ashamed -of them, and be true to the dreams of your youth. Do -not think that Christ is part of a creed only, or belongs -only to church and Sunday. No, Christ is in everything -holy, everything pure, everything loving, and -everything that draws your heart. I would have you -understand that Christ works to get into your heart, -and not into your head. There is plenty of time for -the latter after He has once secured possession of your -heart and life. Into the homeliest chamber of your -heart, too, not into a state apartment, opened only on -occasions of ceremony, He seeks to come, that He -may stay with you and sup with you, and be with -you in your home. There are some people who think -this would be treating Him with very scanty respect, -and so they think they must take a nook of their heart, -like a piece of consecrated ground, and keep Him there, -and only visit it on Sunday. No; Christ wants to -come into your life and mind. Take Him to your -office, and consult Him about your business; your -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span> -affairs will not be managed with less skill and wisdom, -but perhaps more honourably. Take Him to the fireside, -where you plan your plans and dream your -dreams, and make out a future for your little boys. -He loved little ones on earth, and do you think He has -lost that love in heaven?</p> - -<p>Take Him into your heart to overcome the evil -passions and habits, the things you would be ashamed -to own to the most loving earthly friend, which you are -fighting in God's name and cannot conquer by yourself. -You say, "Tell us how we can do it. He is so very -good, we fain would have Christ in our heart, but it -seems so difficult when our heart is so unworthy." -No, it is so easy—and yet so difficult to describe in -words. The moment you have done it you wonder -that you ever asked how it must be done.</p> - -<p>I can tell you some things like it. You know what -it is for a great grief to come into your heart, the first -great disappointment in love, in friendship or ambition. -You did not see it enter with your eyes, but you knew -it had got in, for it changed everything, throwing a -dark, cold shadow over all your life. Some of you -know what it is for a real, true joy to get into your -heart. Some of you, fathers and mothers, know what -it is for a very true friend to get there. You hardly -know how it happened, but one came right in to the -inmost being of your life, and ere you knew it, you -would be nothing without him—without him loving -you. Love was all joy and happiness, and has stayed -there ever since. It has made you different; you have -learned to love the things he loves, and the love and -knowledge have brought peace.</p> - -<p>It is just like that when you take Christ into your -heart. Go to the Gospels, you who feel the want of a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span> -friend like that, and read what He said to poor weeping -men and women, till you feel the breath of His love -encircle you, till your heart goes out to Him, and you -will be vexed to grieve Him, and want to please Him; -and you will think as He thinks, and love men as He -loves.</p> - -<p>There are many, many things about the mysteries of -our religion which I do not understand. But this I -say to you, before God: Beyond all this world holds of -pride, splendour, pleasure, and joy, to have taken that -real, living, holy Jesus Christ into your heart, to be -your Saviour, Counsellor, and Friend, your Divine -Lord and Master, means blessedness both here and -hereafter.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></div> - -<h2>II.<br /> -<i>THE DARK ENIGMA OF DEATH.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">St. John</span> xi.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">This morning I ask your attention to the story -that has been read in the eleventh chapter of the -Gospel of St. John.</p> - -<p>The rulers of the Jews at Jerusalem had resolved on -Christ's death, and the mass of the people sympathised -with them. The Master's life had been threatened by -a popular outburst. His work on earth was not yet -done, and so He withdrew into the country, to escape -from the violence and danger of Jerusalem. He went -away to the Jordan, to the point, not very far from -Jerusalem, where John first began baptizing, and there -He remained in comparative seclusion. But people -knew where He was. Probably people in the surrounding -districts gathered together to hear Him teach; and -possibly, as a very ingenious commentator has suggested, -Christ, reaping the harvest of John's prolonged -teaching in this district, succeeded in winning the faith -of a great many of his hearers; and so He was busy -doing good and happy work, building up His kingdom -on the banks of the Jordan.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, sickness came to the home at Bethany, -where most He felt Himself at home during His -wanderings in this world of ours. Lazarus was -stricken with a very dangerous illness, grew worse and -worse, and at last all hope was gone. Now, I should -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span> -fancy that from the very first day that it became evident -that their brother was seriously ill, the hearts of Mary -and Martha longed to have Jesus come to them, if it -was only to be with them in their anxiety, and suspense, -and watching. And the heart of the sick man must -have longed for that great Divine Friend of his to be -by his sick bed. Why did they not send for Him at -once? I think there is a very simple reason. They -were not selfish, as we sometimes tend to be in our -sickness or in our sorrow. They thought about others -as well as about themselves. They remembered that -for Jesus to come back to the vicinity of Jerusalem was -to risk His own life, and not even for the safety of their -brother could they bring themselves for a long time to -ask the beloved Master to run such a risk as that, and -so they delayed really till too late. In the extremity -of their grief and despair they sent a messenger to -Jesus—not to ask Him to come: there, again, I read -that that was their meaning—they would not take it on -themselves to ask Him to imperil His life, but they -could not resist just letting Him know that their -brother, whom Jesus so loved, was very sick. It is -exceedingly touching, that simple message, "Lord, -behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick." And they knew -that it would say to Jesus, "Thou knowest how much -we would like Thee to come and recover him, and Thou -knowest, too, the last thing we would ask of Thee -would be, out of favour and kindness to us, to risk that -life on which so much hangs—the kingdom of God -upon earth."</p> - -<p>There was real danger in Christ's return to Jerusalem. -He was conscious of it, for you find that when -He did make His way to Bethany He seems to have -taken care, as far as possible, to conceal the fact from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> -the inhabitants of Jerusalem. He came very quietly. -He did not at first enter into Bethany. He remained -outside the precincts of the village. He sent word -secretly to Martha, so that not even Mary or the other -persons that were with them in the house knew of the -fact. And then, again, He sent Martha back, or Martha -went back, to Mary, and, with somewhat studied concealment, -warned her of the Master's vicinity, so that -when she went out those who were with her fancied -she was going to the grave. I point all that out to you -in order that you may see that it is not a mere imagination -or fancy, but that one of the great elements in -determining the conduct of the family at Bethany, and -the action of Christ, was that real hazard of His life, -which He dared not needlessly risk in perils at this -time, since His time of toil on earth, His daylight of -labour, was not yet over and done.</p> - -<p>When Jesus received the message He behaved in a -seemingly strange fashion. Apparently He just did -nothing, but went on with His teaching and preaching -for two long days. Did He think how often anxious -faces would be at the door of that house in Bethany, -peering along the road that led to the home, looking for -the figure that had so often trodden that way, because -His heart drew Him to that happy family circle? Did -Jesus know that Lazarus was dying? Did Jesus think -that the hearts of Mary and Martha were breaking? -Oh, He had the most loving heart that ever man had -on earth, and yet He delayed two days before He set -out for that home of distress. Now, that fact is often -presented in a somewhat revolting fashion, and I think -it is worth while just to diverge from my main theme -to remove the effect of such presentation if it weighs -with any of you. It is said that Jesus deliberately -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> -hung back for two days in order to let Lazarus die. -That is a mistake—a total mistake. Lazarus had been -already buried four days before Christ arrived. Now, -suppose He had lost no time; suppose He had set out -at once, He would only have reached Bethany two days -earlier, and so, you see, Lazarus would have then -already been buried two days. The real fact is just -this, that the message was sent too late, and the sick -man had died; and even if Christ had gone at once, -all the same He would have found him in the grave. -But none the less the story is so told as to shut us up -to this conviction, that it was planned, and purposed, -and accepted in the will of God, and in the will of -Jesus, that Lazarus should be sick, and grow worse -and worse, and should sink and fail, and die and be -buried. Indubitably Jesus, with His knowledge, could, -of His own action, have returned earlier to have intervened -and prevented the sickness ending fatally. -He was absent that Lazarus might die. When He -spoke of the thing He told His disciples, first of all, -the perfect, complete truth. "This," said Jesus, "is -not to end in death's darkness. Its real goal and -termination is to be the glory of God, revealed in the -glory of his Son, the Christ on earth." That is the end -of it; nevertheless, Lazarus must die. God's glory is -to find its consummation, not in rescuing Lazarus from -the grave, but in restoring him from death, and bringing -him back into life. It was part of the material Christ -used in building up His kingdom—the sickness and -the death of Lazarus. He did delay, not in that seeming -revolting, cold-blooded fashion in which it is often -portrayed. He did deliberately hold His hand and -delay; ay, and He held His loving human heart too, -and He let his friend sicken, and suffer pain, and die, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span> -and He let the hearts of those two women that loved -Him well-nigh break. He did it.</p> - -<p>Can we justify Him? Did the sisters divine truly -when they sent that message, "He whom Thou lovest -is sick"? If He loved him, why did He prolong the -agony? Why did He not intervene? Why did He -not at once cancel death? Why those terrible four -days of mourning, and gloom, and darkness, and doubt? -Now that is precisely the painful position of all of us -in this world of sin, and pain, and sickness, and parting, -and death. We think a good God made our world; -we think a loving Father holds our lives in His hands; -and then we turn and look at this world, we look at -the terrible strifes and struggles, we look at the great -entail of sin that lies on our race, we see the ravages -of disease, and disaster, and violence, and cruelty, and -see everywhere the last black enigma of death and the -grave, and this in spite of all our Christian faith, learnt -from the Bible; ay, learnt from God's Spirit speaking -often in the instincts of our heart and nature—we, too, -are forced to ask the question, "Lord, why art Thou -not here? Why does our brother die? If Thou wert -here Thou couldest save him. Dost Thou love him? -and if Thou lovest, why are we sick? Why do we -die?"</p> - -<p>The inmates of that house at Bethany had received -Jesus with a rare degree of sympathetic feeling and -heartfelt welcome. They entered into the meaning of -His teaching and preaching with a degree of fellowship -and quick response that moved His heart and soul even -beyond the best of His disciples. One of them at least—Mary, -and almost certainly Lazarus too—had come -very near to that Divine Lord, in full understanding of -all His grandeur, His sinlessness, His mighty love -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span> -Though yet all ignorant of a great deal about His -person, and about the fashion in which He was to -make His kingdom, with a genuine purity and ardour -of attachment and affection, they worshipped Him, -they recognised the Divine within Him, they hailed -Him as the world's Christ and Saviour. Listen to -Martha's cry in her perplexity: "I cannot understand -it all, but I know Thou art the Christ come from God, -the world's King, the world's Saviour. That I know, -that I hold to." It was that understanding, that sympathy -in that home, that made it so sweet a place of -rest to Jesus. More than that—manifestly the two -sisters and brother lived a life of sweet human affection. -There was an atmosphere of tender love in their home, -broken by little storms of misunderstanding, as may be -in the very best of our imperfect human homes, but in -reality a great depth of tenderness, and clinging attachment, -and loyal love to one another, bound the household -together. Oh, thank God for every such home on -earth! That is the real bulwark against all pessimism, -the charter of our eternal birthrights. Given the -grandeur, the reality of human love, as, thank God, -most of us know it in our homes, that is the absolute -guarantee that it came from the creating hands of -grander Love Divine.</p> - -<p>Jesus was not merely loved by the family where He -came to spend the nights when He was working in -Jerusalem, but He got to love them with a very -wonderful tenderness. You remember that chivalrous, -impassioned defence of Mary, when she was assailed -by the coarse attacks of the disciples. You catch it, -too, in that message sent to Him—"He whom Thou -lovest." Ah, many an act of affection, many a look -that was a caress, many an appeal for sympathy that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span> -bespoke brotherhood, had passed between Jesus of -Nazareth and that Lazarus, else the sisters would not -have thought of saying, "He whom Thou lovest is -sick."</p> - -<p>And yet into that home so dear to the heart of Jesus, -the Son of God, into that home that had for its Friend -the Man that was master of life and of death, of -calamity and prosperity, of all earthly powers and -forces, into that home there penetrated cruel, painful, -deadly sickness. The man Jesus loved lay there on -his bed dying.</p> - -<p>Now, I emphasize that, because there used to be a -great deal of thinking about God's relation to those -that love Him and whom He loves—a great deal of -teaching in the Christian Church that counted itself -most orthodox, and which was, indeed, deadly heresy, -coarse, materialistic, despicable, misunderstanding the -ideal grandeur of the Bible promises. Some of you -know the sort of teaching that used to prevail—the idea -that God's saints should be exceptionally favoured; the -sun would shine on their plot of corn, and it would not -shine on the plot of corn of the bad man; their ships -would not sink at sea, their children would not catch -infectious diseases; God would pamper them, exempt -them from bearing their part in the world's great battle, -with hardness and toil of labour, with struggle, and -attainment, and achievement. It came of a very despicable -conception of what a father can do for a child, -as if the best thing for a father to do for his son was -to pet and indulge him, and save him all bodily struggle -and all difficulties, instead of giving him a life of discipline. -As if a general in the army would, because -of his faltering heart, refuse to let his son take the post -of danger; as if he would not rather wish for that son—ay, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> -with a great pang in his own soul—that he should -be the bravest, the most daring, the one most exposed -to the deadliest hazard.</p> - -<p>Ah, we have got to recognise that we whom God -loves may be sick and dying, and yet God does love -us. Lazarus was loved by Jesus, yet he whom Jesus -loved was sick and dying. Ah, and there is a still -more poisonous difficulty in that materialistic, that -worldly way of looking at God's love; that horrible, -revolting misjudgment that Christ condemned, crushed -with indignation when it confronted Him. "The men -on whom the tower of Siloam fell must have been -sinners worse than us on whom it did not fall." Never, -never! The great government of the world is not -made up of patches and strokes of anger and outbursts -of weak indulgence. The world is God's great workshop, -God's great battle-field. These have their places. -Here a storm of bullets falls, and brave and good men -as well as cowards fall before it. You mistake if you -try to forestall God's judgments, God's verdicts on the -last great day of reckoning.</p> - -<p>Still we have got the fact that Christ does not interpose -to prevent death, that Christ does not hinder those -dearest to Him from bearing their share of life's sicknesses -and sufferings, that God Himself suffers death -to go on, apparently wielding an undisputed sway over -human existence.</p> - -<p>What is the consequence of it? Well, the first consequences -seem to be all evil. You might look on -the surface of life, and when you read superficially the -narrative of this chapter in St. John, it looks as if -mischief and evil came of the strange delay of God and -of His Christ. Look at the effect upon the disciples. -Now here there is not enough told to justify me in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> -putting more positively to you the picture of their inner -hearts, but I am going to present—I dread that I may -be guilty of a want of charity, at all events of disproportion—but -as I read this chapter, and try to think -myself into it, this is the conception I have: Had these -men known that Lazarus was very sick, they would -not have wished their Master to go back to try and -save him. They were selfish enough to have been -rather glad that He was at a distance, to wish that -He should not know. When the message did come -I think they were puzzled and perplexed. Selfishly, -they were rather pleased that He did not set off to go. -But, on the other hand—for, mind you, a selfish man -understands the dictates of love—they said to themselves, -"It is not quite like Him. Well, it is wise, -it is prudent not to go, but it is a little cowardly. -Does He love Lazarus so much as we used to think?" -Oh, if I am right, what a painful thing, all these bad, -poor, selfish thoughts of the Divine heart in Jesus! -all created, mark you, because Jesus suffered the man -whom He loved to be sick, and at last to die, and did -not go and check death, and drive the dark King of -Terrors back.</p> - -<p>Then Jesus says to them that He has resolved to -go and visit Lazarus. It is here I get the ground on -which I stand in forecasting that selfishness in them. -Then they thought He was wrong. They did venture -to blurt out what was a censure: "He will go; He -ought not to do it. What are we to do who see with -clearer eyes the pathway of prudence? To let Him -go and die? It was a total blunder, a mistake, but -all the same we cannot let Him go and die alone. Let -us go and die with Him."</p> - -<p>Oh, what a dearth of understanding of their Master, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></span> -His love, His power, His real character, created by -the enigma of Christ's conduct, that He had held His -hand, that He had suffered His friend to be sick, that -He had permitted him to die!</p> - -<p>Then come to the two sisters. Ah, what a struggle -must have gone on in their hearts, as hour after hour -passed after the point had come when Jesus should -have been with them if He had listened to their message, -if He pitied their brother, His own beloved friend. -What could the Master mean? Did something hinder -Him and prevent His coming? or was it the danger to -His life? Was there a little selfishness? or had they -any right to expect it? Either He is lacking in love, -or else He is lacking in power. What could it mean? -And then, when at last the poor sick eyes shut and -their brother lay there dead, their hearts were like -stones within them. And the burial, following swiftly -after in the East, because decay begins so quickly -there; and then the mourning and the hired mourners, -professional mourners, all around them, and these poor -women there saying in their hearts, "Surely, surely it -need not have been; certainly if the Master, who healed -so many sick, had been here, if He had come, if He -knew, if He had been here all this horror, this agony, -this pain, might have been escaped."</p> - -<p>So when Jesus did come, look at them, how they -met Him. Martha goes away out, and the first thing -she says is just what they had said so often to one -another and to their own hearts: "O Master, if Thou -hadst only been here our brother had not died." And -then the spirit of the woman told her that perhaps she -had hurt Jesus' feelings, that perhaps He was not to -blame, that perhaps there was some explanation, though -she could not see it, and so, in her blundering way—for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span> -she had not the fine tact that was in Mary—she -tried to mend it, and only made it worse by volunteering -that she did believe in Him after all.</p> - -<p>The soul of Christ felt the intended love, and -shuddered at that tremendous distance of sympathy -and understanding. "You believe in Me." He could -not hold it in. "Thy brother shall rise again." And -poor Martha was unable to rise to the height of Christ's -meaning. "Oh, yes, Lord, I know, at the great resurrection. -Yes, he will rise again." Then comes Jesus' -declaration, "I am the Resurrection and the Life. The -man that lives in Me, in whom I live, has in Me a -deathless life. I am here to-day to prove that." That -was what He meant, but He was far away above her. -The poor heart in her had lost Him. She was dazed, -and so she just fell back upon the one thing that she -was quite sure of, even if He had not been quite kind -to her, or even if His power was limited. "Yes, yes, -Master, I know Thou art the Christ, the Son of God, -come into this world to be its Saviour and its King." -And then, perhaps, with a sort of sense that Mary -could understand the Master better, could read His -meaning and tell it to her, she slipped away, and she -found her sister, and whispered in her ear, "The -Master is come, and asks for thee." Then Mary went -away to meet Him too.</p> - -<p>It is much harder to read what was in that sweet -heart of Mary. I have no doubt that she, too, had -fought a battle with doubt. The story seems to show -that she had attained to greater faith than Martha. -She had been pained, but still there was a divining -instinct in her, like the divining instinct that warned -her, when all the disciples were blind to it, that He -was going to die, and she went and anointed Him to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span> -His burial; a divining instinct in her that somehow the -cloud was going to be rolled away. And she went out -and said simply, "Lord, if Thou hadst been here our -brother had not died." And then she was too wise to -say one word more. With her finer tact, with her -deeper understanding, she knew that was all she should -say. But it was like saying, "There is perplexity in -this visitation, in Thy delay, in my brother's death; -Thou couldst have made it different if Thou hadst seen -it well to be here. I cannot understand the right and -the love of it." It was a question. It did say, -"Master, what art Thou going to do?" And Christ -felt it was. As she broke out and burst into tears, He -lost control and wept with her.</p> - -<p>But there were others—the Jews, the enemies of -Christ; men who hated Him, men who disbelieved in -Him, men who grudged Him all His glory and the -love He had won on the earth. They had hurried out—some -of them with a degree of human compassion—to -that home of bereavement. It was known as the -home of Christ, and I think some of them had come -with greater pleasure that Lazarus had died. What -they said when they saw Him weep betrays their -mood. "This is He who professed to be able to open -the eyes of the blind and heal all sicknesses. How, -then, is it that He allows His dearest friend on earth -to be sick, and die, and be buried? He has lost His -power, if He ever had it." They were rejoicing over -His seeming defeat. They had no love for Him, and -so had no faith in Him.</p> - -<p>Is not that true of our world to-day? The best of -you, Christians, when death comes to your own homes, -do you manage to sing the songs of triumph right -away? Well, you are very wonderful saints if you do. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></span> -If you do not, perhaps you say, "If God is in this -world, how comes that dark enigma of death?"</p> - -<p>And others of you grip hold of your faith, but yet -your heart cries out against it. You believe that God -is good, but has He been quite good to you? Like -Martha, you feel as if you had some doubt; you feel -bound in your prayers; you say, "O God, I do not -mean to reproach Thee;" weak, sinful if you will, yet -the sign of a true follower of the Christ.</p> - -<p>And then the enemies of Christ, the worldlings all -about in this earth of ours, as they look upon death's -ravages, they are saying, "If there were a God, if -there were a Father, if there were a great heart that -could love, why does not He show it?" Now, I said to -you that at first it looks as if nothing but evil came of -God's delay to interpose against death; but when you -look a little deeper I think you begin to discover an -infinitely greater good and benefit come out of that -evil.</p> - -<p>I must very briefly, very rapidly, trace to you in the -story, and you can parallel it in the life of yourselves, -that discipline of goodness there is in God's refraining -from checking sickness and death. Christ said, the end -of it is first of all death, but that is not the termination. -Through death this sickness, this struggle of doubt and -faith, should end in the glory of God. He meant this: -In the preparation of His life and His death the death -and resurrection of Lazarus held a central position. It -was the turning-point, the thing that determined His -crucifixion on Calvary. That tremendous miracle compelled -the rulers of Jerusalem to resolve on and carry -out His death. That miracle of Lazarus' resurrection -gave to the faith of the disciples and of Christ's followers -a strength of clinging attachment that carried them -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span> -through the eclipse of their belief when they saw Him -die on Calvary.</p> - -<p>Now, what would you say? Was it cruel of Christ -to allow His friend Lazarus, His dear friends Mary and -Martha, to go through that period of suspense, of -anxiety, of sickness, of death, and of the grave, that -they might do one of the great deeds in bringing in the -world's Redeemer? Oh, men and women, if God be -wise, and if God be great, then must it not be that -somehow or other the structure of this world is the -best for God's end, and our tears, and partings, and -calamities but incidents in the grand campaign that -shall end in the resplendent glory of heaven? Yes, for -the glory of God, and for the sake of others, for the -sake of the disciples, for the sake of the world, says -Christ, I have suffered My friend Lazarus to die.</p> - -<p>"Ah," you say, "you have still got to show God's -goodness and kindness to me individually. My death -may be for God's glory, it may be for the good of -others; but how about me and those who mourn?" -Well, now, look at it. You must get to the end of the -story before you venture to judge the measure, the -worth, of God's goodness. After all, was that period -of sickness and death unmitigated gloom, and horror, -and agony? Oh, I put it to you, men and women, who -have passed through it, watching by the death of dear -father or mother that loved the Lord and loved you, -and whom you loved—dark, and sore, and painful -enough at the time; but oh, if I called you to speak -out, would you not say it was one of the most sacred -periods of your life—the unspeakable tenderness, the -sweet clinging love, the untiring service, the grateful -responses, the sacredness that came into life? Ay, -and when the tie was snapped, the new tenderness that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span> -you gave to the friends that are left, the new pledge -binding you to heaven, and to hope for it, and long for -it—death is not all an evil to our eyes. Death cannot -ultimately be an evil, since it is universal—the consummation, -climax, crown of every human life. Ah, -if we had the grander majesty of soul to look at it from -God's altitude, we should call death, not a defeat, but a -victory, a triumph. I think sometimes that if death did -not end these lives of ours, how weary they would get. -Think of it—to live on for ever in the sordidness, in -the littleness, in the struggle, the pain, the sin of this -life of ours. Oh, we need that angel of death to come -in, and now and then stir the pool of our family life, -that there may be healing in it, that there may be -blessing in it! Death, holding the hand of God through -it, to those that stand by and see the sweetness of -human love, the triumph of faith celestial, has a grandeur -in it, like Christ's death on the cross; it hides out -of sight of the people the ghastly, the doubt-creating -features and elements of its external impediment—death -becomes God's minister. It is going home to -one's Father.</p> - -<p>Yes, but you want the guarantee that death is not -the end, and that day it was right and lawful for Christ -to give it, to anticipate the last great day, when in one -unbroken army, radiant and resplendent, shining like -jewels in a crown, He shall bring from the dark grave -all that loved Him, fought for Him, and were loyal to -Him on the road, and went down into the dark waters -singly, one by one, in circumstances of ignominy often, -and yet dying with Christ within them, the Resurrection -and the Life.</p> - -<p>Ah, that great, grand vindication of God, and interpretation -of this world's enigma was made clear that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span> -day when Christ called Lazarus back, and gave him alive -to his sisters in the sight of His doubting disciples, in -the sight of those sneering enemies. And what I like -to think as best of all and most comforting of all is this, -that Christ did that deed of love and goodness to hearts -that so misunderstood Him, were so ignorant of His -glory, denied and disbelieved so much of His claims, -were then and there so despairing, so hopeless, that -perhaps it was only in one heart, the heart of Mary, there -was hope or faith like a grain of mustard-seed. Yet -He did it. Why? He whom He loved died, and they -whom He loved mourned. It was not that they loved -Him; it was that He loved them.</p> - -<p>Ah, when I read sneers at the simple Evangelical -Gospel that says, "Put away all thoughts of earning -heaven; your good works are rags"—true enough, true -enough—the sneers are mistaken. It is a very grand -Gospel that, for what it says is this, "There is hope, -salvation from sin, life eternal, for you and for me, not for -anything in us, nor for anything we can do, even if we -did the best we could. We hold the hope and confidence -of redemption, resurrection, in our hearts, because -the God that made us loves us;" and so—as I read -lately in a recently published book, amid much that I -think is foolish, what yet struck me as singularly tender -and true—"When in the hour of death we cry, 'Good -Lord, deliver us,' we might stop and leave out the -'deliver us.' It is quite enough if we are dying in the -arms of a God that is good."</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></div> - -<h2>III.<br /> -<i>THE STORY OF DORCAS.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">Acts</span> ix. 36-43.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">TO a man who believes in a living, personal God -the world's history is the record of God's actions. -The Bible story is an account of an exceptional period -in the Divine activity, during which God's dealings with -men are peculiarly significant; as it were more immediate, -frank, and expressive, more true to His inmost -character. Then, traits found utterance that in general -are mute. Repression gave way to expression. The -incidents in this expression are out of the common, -look marvellous; we call them miracles. Such things -do not happen to us, but we hold they happened for us. -They are, so to say, a personal explanation on God's -part, at once a disclaimer and a declaration. He is not -altogether to be judged by the normal course of events. -His feelings do not quite answer to appearances. His -heart does not correspond entirely to His hand. He is -more than His deeds. Measure Him by these, and you -mistake Him, because for the most part He acts under -restraint. His love may be much greater than His -language, His kindness warmer than His conduct. -Reticence is often imposed on affection. You do not -always tell your child all the praise you might express, -and admiration you feel. When he has entered the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span> -struggle of school-life you look on while he battles -with a hard task, till his weariness pains you, but you -hold back and do not help him. It may be my lot to -know of a friend contending against unjust accusation, -well-nigh crushed, and I may not stand by him, knowing -my aid would harm, not help, though at the risk of -his misunderstanding me. God would have us know, -as we with perplexity look to His silent heaven out of -our sin and sorrow, that spite of strange seeming, His -heart is love. We do not fare as our Father fain -would have us fare. Things are not as He would wish -them. There is a discrepancy between the desires of -His heart and the doings of His hand. He cannot -quite trust us as He would. There is an obstacle; we -should be better off but for that. We do right to say, -with Martha, "Lord, if Thou hadst been here my brother -had not died." And that we may be sure it is so, once -He broke through His reticence; He <i>was</i> here; He -gave His heart full play, and treated men as He always -feels towards them. Their sicknesses were healed, -their sins forgiven; the Infinite Love laid soft hands -on their pain; the Eternal Pity whispered peace in -their souls. Now we can look on Christ and say we -know what God is. But for hindrances, we can say, -He would always act so. Spite of our fortunes, that -is how He feels. At length the barrier will be overthrown, -and He will treat me so likewise.</p> - -<p>This is the practical use we are to make of such -stories of Scripture as Dorcas's restoration from death. -It is a marvel—what, precisely, we know not. But, for -this woman God did a splendid and wonderful act of -love, that dispelled the eclipse of death in a sunshine -of endless security. What happened to her happens -not to us. But God's heart is unchanged. If you be -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span> -like her, such another, the Divine regard round you in -life and in death is as tender and strong as it was -about her.</p> - -<p>In the important seaport town of Joppa there were -gathered together some believers in Jesus. Among -them was a woman named Tabitha (Heb.), or Dorcas -(Gr.). The name signifies Gazelle, or Fawn. It was -one of those pet names given to woman, a name of -beauty, though the bearer of it may have been plain -enough. Not much is told about her, but what is told -is of such a kind that we may conjecture more. Little -things have a significance in combination. Thus we -can fill in the meagre outline that is given us, till the -picture grows into completeness.</p> - -<p>Dorcas was a lone woman. Of husband or of -children we hear nothing. Unlike those others with -whom she is linked in Bible story as fellow-sharers -in the miracle of restoration to life—unlike Lazarus, -unlike the daughter of Jairus or the widow's son at -Nain—we read in her case of no loving relatives who -soothed her dying bed and wept when she was gone. -She stands alone in the world—one of those women -of whom we speak as of persons to be pitied, unhappy; -with a woman's natural hopes and occupations, in which -she finds rest for her instincts, denied or blighted.</p> - -<p>Dorcas is a forlorn figure, stricken by grief and woe. -We feel inclined to turn away from such. The bleak, -cold winds that blow across the lonely spaces where -they find their planting seem to chill our joy. We -forget that it is not thorns alone which grow in spots -that we deem waste; not seldom God's fairest flowers -and fruits spring up on what we count barren and -forsaken ground. In Dorcas, we may well believe, -there was nothing woe-begone or repellent; it is as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span> -pleasant, amiable, and beloved that we think of her. -The tree of her life had been stricken by the lightning; -its own leaves and branches stripped; but it did not -remain a bare and unsightly stump, naked and alone. -Lichens and clinging plants had gathered at its roots, -and twined about its stem, and clothed it with a new -verdure and beauty.</p> - -<p>All this might have been so different. Dorcas might -have succumbed to sorrow, and amid the ruins of her -shattered home she might have flung herself on the -ground in despair. She might have been moping and -repining, selfishly nursing her grief, embittered, envious, -and grudging to others their joy. God pity those who -are; it is often that the milk of human kindness has -turned sour: the fault is of misfortune. She might -have made herself a burden to all around, held the -world a debtor, and herself a wronged creditor. She -might have insisted on being miserable—as if a long -face made a lighter heart. Some in her position act so. -They resent the smiles of others, and hold that if weeping -is their portion, then all should weep. Others hide -under a smiling face a sad heart, and laugh with you. -Dorcas did none of these things. She set herself to be -of use, to give aid and help to others. Ah! I think it -sometimes happens that God removes the home of a -woman's love, breaks down its walls, and unroofs it -before the storm, in order that the love may go out to -embrace a larger family. The hearts of some women -are made to shelter and console all homeless ones. -Their love takes wings, and flies through the earth in -search for the desolate and afflicted. It does not need -the ties of home, of husband and children, to form a -loving, useful, warm-hearted woman.</p> - -<p>How long had Dorcas been such a woman as the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span> -story tells of? We cannot say. Perhaps she was -humbly good and sensible, and had borne her sorrows -bravely from the first, an unconscious follower of Jesus. -Perhaps she was once soured, bitter, and woe-begone, -till she heard of the great Sorrow-bearer, and learnt -from Him to make her sorrow an offering, and to use -her knowledge of sadness to lighten others' woe. For -she was "a disciple." That means just one who looks -how Christ went about the world, and sets to to go -likewise.</p> - -<p>Having made up her mind to do good, what could -she do? Nothing much. She could not preach; she -could not be an apostle, and do great deeds of healing. -She was too poor, too stupid, too uninfluential to start -a mission or build a hospital. But she could darn, and -stitch, and plan garments for widows—and how many -such does not the life of a seafaring town create! She -could speak kind words and do good turns, go to -meeting, and be a quiet, gentle, sweet, helpful woman. -That she could be, nothing more; and that she was. -Why should she be more? That is what God means -a good woman to be.</p> - -<p>A homely, unromantic, dull, unattractive life, you -say; good, but uninteresting. So, perhaps, the neighbours -said. So we all go on thinking and saying, while -the angels laugh at our folly. As if God did not often -conceal under the hardest, coarsest shells and husks -the silkiest of downy lining and the very sweetest of -fruit-kernels. Yes, outside it looked a stripped, bare, -monotonous life. But within there was a whole world -of beauty and pathos. God knew the tender thoughts -of the dead; the rising of old cravings that woke and -called once more for buried loves; the silent, speechless -prayers in lonely eventides. He knew of memories -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span> -that were tears to her, but turned to warmth and cheer -for others; of very kindly thoughts and gentle love -woven and sown into those garments. No, the neighbours -did not see all this. But God's eyes looked, and -saw a very garden of the Lord for beauty and fragrance. -I know it must have been so, from the love her way of -doing kindness won. Merely to do good is not enough -to get love; one must be good. It is wonderful how -some people do endless good, and yet none cares for -them. Dorcas was not a machine, actively good -because actively wound up. People do not weep such -tears as fell when she died for the loss of a sewing-machine, -useful though such might be, and working for -nothing. Nor was she a woman with a mission, -bustling, important, loud-voiced; useful and needed -such may be, respected, but not quite loved. Nor was -she a lady patroness, looking down on those upon whom -she showered her benefits. Those who work like Dorcas -do not work of mechanical duty, nor for fuss of fame, -nor for thanks. It is but little likely that thanks were -given her. People would say, "She has nothing else -to do;" "She has no family to look after;" "She has -plenty of time on her hands;" "It's almost a kindness -to take her sewing;" "She had sooner work than not." -Exactly, that was it. She was nothing more than -a kindly, humble-hearted, womanly soul, that feared -God and loved men, and did good in solid ways; one -whose life made other women glad that she was born. -What more would you have her be? Are you sure -you understand what that was?</p> - -<p>She became ill. She did not tell how ill she felt, -but lay lone and sick. She would not burden others -with her pain, and to die she did not fear. Her neighbours -found it out and nursed her tenderly, but she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> -died. Then there was nothing to do but reverently to -lay her out, to put flowers on her breast and in her -hands; it was all the kindness they could do now; -how they wished they had done more when she was -alive! Then they thought what to do next. When one -is dead there is so little you can do, and yet you want -to do so much. Then some one thought of Peter. The -Apostle was only twelve miles off. He will surely come -to see poor Dorcas once again, and show honour to her -memory. And so the little groups of busy, tearful -talkers united in one resolve to send for Peter. They -would like him to be with them, to tell him all their -trouble and sorrow, and pour into his sympathetic ears -an eager chronicle of Dorcas's holy deeds. It is wonderful -how much good your neighbours know to tell of -you when you are dead, and how much evil while you -are still alive.</p> - -<p>This was the reason why they sent for Peter; not -that they expected him to restore the dead to life. Had -they not laid the dead body of their benefactress out, -and washed and prepared it for burial? Why should -they expect a miracle on her behalf? Stephen and -James had trodden their martyr path, and no voice from -heaven had called them back to leadership and witness-bearing -in the Church. What should they expect -for Dorcas from the Apostle beyond his sorrowful -compassion?</p> - -<p>Peter came. He found the room full of weeping -women, telling of her goodness, of her clever fingers; -showing him <i>on them</i> (<i>middle voice</i>) the dresses and -petticoats she had made. How many they seemed -when gathered together in that little room! All the -results of the toil of her busy hands, scattered through -the town, now gathered in the chamber of death to tell -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span> -of her goodness after she was gone. Herself, she did -not know the whole. "Blessed are the dead who die -in the Lord; for their works do follow them."</p> - -<p>We die and are not much missed. The world rolls on. -Yet none is quite unwept, unnoticed. There are two -sets of people who will mourn. There are those who -loved you and found their joy in ministering to you; -a mother, a lover: good or bad you may have been, -but they will weep over your grave. Or, in heaven, -they smile; in smiles or tears they love. And there -are those you loved, on whose souls are the marks -of your kindness, warmth, help, and cheer; they will -miss you.</p> - -<p>How came Peter to conceive the hope of recovering -Dorcas to life? It was not through the message of an -angel, or the narrative would tell us of it; nor was it -through a special communication of the Spirit, or the -sacred history would record it, as the habit of the Bible -is. It seems to have been in an ordinary way, though -under the Spirit's guidance. A little thing in Peter's -doings suggests that he followed the train of an old -memory, that he was dominated and inspired by a -bygone incident. Amid those weeping women his -heart was moved: he recalled an unforgotten scene. -He remembered an old man coming to the Master with -a white, anxious face and quivering lips, to plead for -his sick child. He remembered their hurrying steps, -and the eager impatience of the stricken father as they -turned their faces to his house; the messenger bringing -the sad tidings "dead;" the Master's face lighting up -with a quiet, strange resolution as He said, "She is -not dead;" and then how He put them all out and -restored the maiden to her parents. Why should he -not ask the Master now? He put them all out. He -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> -prayed. Confidence filled his heart. He summoned -the dead woman from the shadow-land. She opened -her eyes. To the weeping, mourning, loving women -he gave her again—alive from the dead!</p> - -<p>It was a tremendous deed of wonder and glory. It -was done on a lonely, simple, humble woman. Why -on her? Why not on James or Stephen? I cannot -tell, for certain. God knows. His reasons are other -than our thoughts. But I see this as possibly a cause: -You observe that two narratives are conjoined. Dorcas, -for her alms-deeds, receives this miracle of resurrection; -while, for alms-deeds, Cornelius is acknowledged in a -miracle also. Nowhere else in the Acts of the Apostles -are alms-deeds made so prominent. In each story, and -in the conjunction, I see design. God meant to set a -mark of honour on the love that was displayed. I think -He would guard the Church against undue estimation -of preaching, apostles, miracle-working, deeds of show, -gifts; and teach us that beyond all is love. So He -singles out not an apostle, not a martyr, but this gentle, -kind, womanly life, and crowns it with grandeur and -glory, makes it conqueror of death, encircles it with a -halo of most wonderful, Divine, loving care. Not preaching, -not angel speech, not mountain-removing faith, -but love is the centre. God judges differently from -us. We worship the great leaders, orators, reformers, -creed-makers; our statistics are of Churches, prayers, -and preachers. God reckons all love for Himself and -man as vaster, wider, and grander. Ah! while we think -not of it, in unseen corners, in hidden nooks, He sees -and garners a harvest of love and lowly service that -shall be the beauty and glory of heaven. Let us think -as God thinks. Let us learn to worship not gifts, but -graces, not greatness, but goodness only. Bend your -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></span> -knee to such a woman with a reverence you will yield -to no king, to no genius, however Godlike; and bend -it, for you bend it to Christ. Humble, lonely, simple -Christian souls, God cares for you as for her, if you -are like her. Patiently toil on; God feels towards you -as towards her. Go forward to death, sure that He -will gather your life with equal care, not back into -earth's struggle, but up into heaven's glory.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></div> - -<h2>IV.<br /> -<i>UNFULFILLED CHRISTIAN WORK.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"And unto the angel of the Church in Sardis write; These things -saith He that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I -know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. -Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready -to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God."—<span class="smc">Rev.</span> -iii. 1, 2.</p> - -<p class="small">Reading the last clause a little more literally will more fully bring -out the meaning: "For I have found no works of thine fulfilled -before My God."—R.V.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE passage forms a picture—God on His throne, -Christ by His side, the work of the Churches on -earth travelling up to God, and presenting itself before -the throne Divine, and Christ, as the Churches pass in -procession, judging them. The religious activity of -the Church in Sardis swept by before God's throne, -under Christ's eyes, and as it passed He saw that not -one single task undertaken by that Church was done -fully; everything was half done, and therefore worthless. -It was not that the church was doing nothing, -but it was doing nothing worth doing. These were -the facts. Christ's judgment on the facts is this: -"Thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead." A -Church all whose labours are but half done is dead. -Yet there were good men and women in the congregation -at Sardis. If you read on you find this said by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> -Christ: "Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which -have not defiled their garments."</p> - -<p>So, then, a Church may be dead though it contains -living members. How can that be? A Church is not -a mere number of individuals added to one another; -something results from that combination of separate -individuals; something very different, with fresh powers -and added responsibilities, rises out of grouping together -a number of individual Christians, that is a -Church. A Church, a congregation (it is in that sense -I use the word "Church" all through this discourse), -has an individuality of its own; a Church has a character -of its own; a Church has a spirit of its own; -a Church has capacities of its own; a Church can do -what no individual nor any mere number of individuals -added together can do; a Church, as soon as it is -constituted, creates a new kind of life, a new kind of -being, a new kind of activities. No individual Christian, -however good he may be, can out of himself -make Christian fellowship, Christian devotion, Christian -labour and co-operation, all that social life which -springs from the union of severed individuals; no -separate Christian, nor any number of separate Christians, -can produce that. A Church, therefore, is something -distinct from the individual members of whom -it is built. A house is not a thousand bricks; it is -something quite different, something made not merely -by the presence of the bricks, but by their being -built together. Each separate element of the building, -when united, is able to do its share in the great work -that none of them, or any member of them, could do -without that combination which forms the edifice. A -Church, a congregation, has its own character. Each -provincial town in England has a character of its own; -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> -and an intelligent man, with quick sympathies, recognises -the difference of spirit when he enters a town -from that which was prevalent in the town he left. -One is Radical, one is very Materialistic; one is full of -poetry, and imagination, and literature; and the individual -residing in the town is affected by the general -spirit of that town. Every school has a character of -its own, a spirit of its own; not that each boy in the -school is just modelled on that type, but to a large -extent each individual pupil is affected by the spirit of -the school. The spirit of the school exists in the boys -that dominate it. It is the same with Churches. In -one congregation you are conscious of warmth, and -enthusiasm, and friendliness, and love; in another -congregation you are conscious of stiffness, and a -rigid propriety, and distance, and coldness, and artificiality. -In one Church you are conscious of a large, -and liberal, and generous spirit; in another Church you -are conscious of factions, fighting, and meanness and -stinginess. That is a fact; you have felt it. A mere -stranger entering the building on a Sunday morning -feels it; it is there, there in the very faces of the people -as they sit in their pews, there in the minister as he -stands in the pulpit. A public speaker said to me this -last week, "I may come with my address to a weekday -meeting, but it all depends upon the spirit and -mood of the meeting; it is one thing in one place, and -another in another;" and if you have ever tried to -speak in a Church or at a meeting you will have found -it to be so. There may be a dozen men present in that -meeting whose spirit is all that you may want, but -they cannot make the result; the general result of it is -determined by the mass. So it may come to pass that -in a congregation there may be not a few individual -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span> -members who are warm, living, earnest servants of -Jesus Christ; but their goodness is not of the dominating -kind; they have piety, but they lack manly power; -they have good feeling and good intentions, but they -have not character; they cannot command the whole; -they cannot give their spirit to the mass of men; they -just survive, but they cannot take the offensive; they -have need of protection. They live themselves, but -do not live half so strongly or half so healthily as they -would in a congregation which was warm to the very -tips of its fingers and the fringes of its garments; they -are living, but the Church is dead.</p> - -<p>What is the life of a Church? The life of a Church -is loving loyalty to Jesus Christ, present more or less -in the actual human heart of all the members; an inner, -hidden thing, that you cannot weigh in a balance, that -you cannot set down in figures in an annual report, -that you cannot exhibit to a non-believer or a worldling, -but the greatest, the most powerful force in all our -world.</p> - -<p>The life of a Church is a living, real presence of Jesus -Christ, as a daily influence on the conduct, the thoughts, -the words, the deeds of all the members of that Church. -The life of a Church is the living presence of Jesus -Christ in every committee of management, in every -meeting of Sunday-school teachers, in every social -gathering of the congregation; a living loyalty and -devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ, born out of a grateful -certainty that He died to save us, born out of a -grand sympathy with Him, and under the belief that -He is willing to save all the men and women and all -the little children who are round about us. That is the -living life of a Church, and nothing else is. You may -have a perfect orthodoxy, and death; you may have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span> -great activity, and yet you may have death. Nothing -is the life of a Church but actual living loyalty and -love to the real living Lord of the Church, Jesus Christ.</p> - -<p>Christ stands at the right hand of God, judging the -Churches. He judges them by their works. But the -life of a Church is not a thing of the hands or of the -tongue; it is a thing of the heart. At the same time -Christ has to make His judgment just; He has to go -upon visible facts, and He can safely proceed upon the -Church's work. Wherever there is life it cannot be -still; it works, it moves, it beats, it becomes warmed; -it must come out. If a Church has no works it has no -life. What are those works which are the visible -signs of a living Church? They are these: No dry, -spasmodic zeal for orthodoxy when some heresy crops -up which makes a public sensation; no straight, rigid -propriety, and fineness of outward form, and æsthetic -culture of ceremonial. The life that is loving loyalty to -Christ, present in the heart of every individual member -of a congregation, comes out in this way: it makes -hearty singing on a Sunday. Even a man who has no -musical voice, and who is a little weary, cannot help -singing when his heart is stirred, even if he stops -short in case he should make discord to his neighbours. -It is all nonsense to say that people have grateful hearts -to Christ when they sit with shut mouths to Christ's -praise. I know well that habit has a great deal to do -with it. It is the way of some Churches to sing heartily, -and it is the way of some other Churches to let the -choir do the singing; and I know, therefore, that you -must not too absolutely take such a test as a standard -by which you will judge whether or not there is a -living warmth, and enjoyment, and cheering in the service -and in the congregation. I believe all that, nevertheless -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> -I have seen the most stiff and silent congregation -roused to sing when their hearts were aroused. Such -silence is a bad habit. And how about the prayers? -Men will not merely listen to the words, and will not -criticise a man when he prays; men will be reverent; men -will, by their very attitude, make it felt that souls are face -to face with God. Men will not be sitting finding fault -with all the blurs and blemishes that there are in the -services (which there must be in every human service) -when their hearts are being fed, and when their souls -are going out to God. There will be no lack of Sunday-school -teachers; and the Sunday-school teachers in -such a Church will not do their work in a listless and -negligent way, and fail in keeping their appointments -and engagements, but will do it as if it were a pleasure. -It is not the blame of Sunday-school teachers in a -dead Church if they are teachers of that sort; it is the -blame of the dead Church. How can they keep alive? -Shall we put the penalty upon those who are partially -living? No; it is the great mass of death, and decay, -and coldness which is to blame. Let us visit the sins -on the guilty parties.</p> - -<p>A living Church will show its life in hearty, generous -liberality to every good cause. A living Church will -show its life by bravery and courage in taking up new -responsibilities that may offer themselves, and working -them most heartily. A living Church is living, not -because it does one or all of these things, but because -it loves loyalty to the Lord Jesus, who died for it, and -feels that goodness and holiness are the grandest things -in the world, and is eager to have all the children -taught to love the Lord Jesus, and all the young people -who are going out amid the temptations of life strengthened -and helped to withstand them, and old people -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span> -whose lives are embittered when a disaster comes -upon them made tender, and soft, and submissive, by -the life of Christ in that Church and among their -Christian neighbours. Yes, the life of a Church is not -a mere liking for what Christ loves, and a wish to -please Him, but real life and real love to Christ will -come out, not in correctness of creed, but in life and -in work. It is an awful thing when a Church is -dead, with all the children in it gathering to go to a -Church which is cold, and to a dragging service, and -to spiritless singing, and to melancholy prayer, and to -a dry preaching. Ay, I have seen children who hated -religion, because their parents, as I believe, were living -in a dead Church. I have often said, "Cut your connection -with such a Church; go rather to another -denomination, which has life." I venture to say that -a father who loves his child will sacrifice anything in -order that that child may have pleasant and attractive -views of religion. But shall the child's first idea of -religion come to him in the shape of a crippled and -broken-down failure? Fathers and mothers are absolutely -bound thus to promote the spiritual interests of -their children; it is worth more than anything else -that is done for them; and I say that a Church which -is gathering those young people around it, and keeping -them from more dangerous places, and leading them to -have it in their hearts to come and sit down with -Christian people, is doing more than all the world will -ever do. It is worth taking a great deal of trouble to -belong to a living Church, and it is the absolute duty -of every member of every Church to do all he can not -merely to make himself alive, but to make the whole -Church full of warm, living life.</p> - -<p>When a Church is dead, or only half alive, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> -defect shows itself specifically and certainly in this -manner: The Church's work is only half done, and -can only half be fulfilled, when only a portion of its -members fulfil their allotted task to their Master. If, -in a Church which numbers five hundred, only fifty are -doing the utmost they can do, the Church's measure -of work will not be fulfilled before the judgment-seat -of God. Fifty individuals cannot do what it takes -five hundred to do. A half-done work, how it is -spoiled! The army were defending the frontier -bravely and successfully; but one cowardly regiment -gave way, and the ranks were broken, and all the -bravery, and the blood, and the death of the brave -men were lost—lost by the cowardice. The work of a -Church that is wearily done, in its life and extent, -by a few living men and women in it, is poorly done; -they do it with such a struggle; they are so weary -and worn out; they have not pleasure, they have not -enthusiasm, in doing it. How can they have? Oh, -it is hard when a few men and women have to do all -the teaching, and all the visiting, and all the work at -the meetings! it spoils their work; it is not fair play. -I appeal to you to determine whether I speak truly or -not. One man cannot do another man's work. One -link of a chain cannot do duty for another link, and -if the one goes, sometimes the chain is worth nothing -at all. The work of a dead or half-dead Church stands -before God's judgment-seat unfulfilled. How can it -tell on the careless? how can it tell on the worldly? -Do you think that they will be just, and say, "Ah, -look at what the fifty are doing"? No, you may -be quite sure that they will look at the deficiency of -the four hundred and fifty, and say, "Is this a Church -of Christ?" Who blames them?</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">{126}</a></div> - -<p>A living Church must work, and it must work on, -and it must send life through every part and fragment -of its whole frame, or else it has begun to die. It is -not a small thing, of no concern, if some members of a -Church are doing nothing by being idle. The work -that a Church has to do is the creation of living -Christian character, and of the conviction that being in -Church on Sunday and belonging to a congregation -make a man a kinder brother, or a more loving father -or husband, and make a woman a better mother or a -more kindly neighbour. That is the best work a Church -can do, and that does not come to a man through a -dead Church. A living Church must be making itself -felt all around in the world outside by work of that -kind; and I say that it is not a matter of no consequence -if some members of a Church are not receiving -and not transmitting that warmth and activity. It is -not a small matter if one organ of my body be dying, -be passing into mortification; it means death to the -whole body, and I must cut it off unless life can be -brought back again into it. It is the very law of life, -as God has made it, that everything which has life in -it must be working; it cannot stop. If your heart -stops it is death; nothing else can make it stop but -death. If any organ in your body is always receiving, -but giving nothing, and not sending out what it gets, -improved, to the rest, it means diseased life, it means -death. Does the stomach receive its daily food to keep -it to itself, as we so often receive the prayers and -sermons in a Church? No; as soon as the feeding is -done the hard work begins; the stomach gives it to the -blood, and what does the blood do? As the great -carrier of the system, it delivers it here and there—here -a little to this muscle, there to that bone, there to the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></span> -brain, and all through the body. And what the muscles -and the other parts have received do they keep? No; -if the various portions of the body did not give out -what they receive they would get choked; it would be -death by surfeit; they must work. And so the circle -of life goes round; stop it at any one point, and you -spoil the whole circle. If the blood-vessels do not do -their work, if the muscles do not do their work, and so -on throughout the entire system, it means this, that -that body is not healthy; it means death to the whole -frame. A business man said to me yesterday, "As -soon as a man ceases pushing his business, and does -not endeavour to extend it, it falls off." He does not -want actually to increase it, but he must adopt that -plan to keep it up to its present mark. The Church, -alas! has not been willing to increase its work, desiring -to take on other responsibilities; it does not say, "I -cannot rest while people are cold and not interested in -doing the Church's work, not bent upon bringing in -sinners, and bringing children into the Sunday-schools -to be taught to love and reverence religion, and causing -people whose life is sour and bitter to be soothed and -comforted."</p> - -<p>What I have been pressing upon you is the law of -life. Is it a hard law? No, it is a kind law. That is -how God rewards you for what you have done; He -gives you more work to do. In reading the parable of -the men to whom it was assigned to rule over the cities -did you ever mark how they were rewarded? Here is -a man who has actively and effectively used ten talents. -How does his lord reward him—by giving him a -sinecure? No; he says, "You shall be ruler over ten -cities;" and in the same way the man who has been -successful with five talents is made ruler over five cities. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span> -Did you ever know a man who had served his country -well, and benefited it, wish to withdraw into a drawing-room, -and spend the remainder of his life in luxury and -ease? Did you ever know a successful general who -wanted to get a big fortune and to retire? No; successful -men cannot be rewarded better than by giving -them a deal more to do—larger responsibilities, larger -powers, a larger sense of strength successfully exerted. -That is the blessing and the joy which shall go with -larger toil, and grander accomplishment, and brighter -goodness. The few who are used to work shall have -plenty of work. I take it as a sign that God is pleased -with the results of a Church when He gives them new -work to do, and the heart to take it up. It is not extra -work; it is the reward of the past, and it is a step that -shall lead you to a higher throne. Nay, more; work -is indispensable to the enjoyment of a Church's good. -No Church can heartily enjoy what we call religious -privileges unless it is working hard; and no individual -member of that Church will get the good of it unless -he is taking a part in the Church's work. He does not -need to be an office-bearer or anything of that sort; -his work may be just friendliness to others in the -house of God, showing a kind spirit to them or taking -an interest in them, showing neighbourliness by his -Church character. Do not think that it is a high array -of talents that is required; no, it is the Church's function -of being "all of one mind," and knit together and -helping one another, and sympathising with one another, -being bound up in the common lot of disasters and -trials. I say that no individual member, unless he is -taking his part, is a living member of that Church. If -people are very fastidious about the doctrines which -are preached, if people are searching into the sense of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> -every hymn or prayer, if people are finding fault with -the way in which everything is done, then it may be -that the Church is to blame; but if the Church is doing -its work as well as any poor human Church can do it, -I advise such a one to say to himself, "May not I be to -blame?" If you think that the daily food which is -provided for you is not properly cooked, and it is not -of the proper sort, and does not taste well, is it not -your doctor you want to go to, to ask him to cure you -of dyspepsia? And in all probability he will recommend -to you exercise and hard work. A hard-working -man does not complain even of dry bread; he is not -particular; he has an appetite. I have known, in the -Church to which I belonged before I began to preach, -how pleased I was even with sermons which had no -originality in them if I saw that they were part of the -common work. It was my home, and you do not -criticise your own home; and you do not criticise your -father and mother; you believe in the power which you -get from your father, because he is yours. Throw -yourself into the Church, become a part of it, take an -interest in everything, and it is wonderful how little -you will have of criticism about you. Take plenty of -spiritual exercise, and you may be sure that even a -bare and poor spiritual diet will agree wonderfully -with you.</p> - -<p>Christ reckons with Churches—Christ at God's right -hand, what is He about? When He was down here -on earth He went hither and thither, seeking the lost; -He forgave the woman that wept at His feet; He saved -the dying thief. Oh, gentle, loving Saviour Jesus, "the -same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever"! And at -God's right hand He is loving, and pitying, and forgiving -my sins, and pleased with my tears of repentance—forbearing, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span> -tender, saving Jesus! We preach that; we -should not be men, we should not be Christians, if we -did not preach that; we could not live without that -thought of Jesus. But let us be true; do not let us -hide facts. That same Jesus stands at God's right -hand, judging the Churches, reckoning with them. Oh, -to a penitent sinner He is all heart, but to a slothful -servant He is a faithful Master! He reckons with -Churches; He reckons with individuals. It would not -be kind if He did not reckon with you. Would you -wish Him not to reckon? Would you like to say, "I -do not care whether He does anything with me or not"? -Ah, I should begin to think that Christ did not love -you at all if He did not reckon with you, if he were not -grieved and angry when you did not do your duty to -Him and to your neighbour! Where would be the -dignity of life if we did not believe in a great last -judgment, with a stern reckoning with sin? We -should sink to the level of the animals if there were no -judgment. It proves that man has an immortal spirit. -What does it matter, with the animals, what they do? -But God must reckon with man, and He would not be -reigning if man had not to reckon on an awful judgment-day -for every spirit. It is a proof to me that I -am of moment, and that my human spirit has dignity; -it makes clear to me my place in the universe, and my -claim to immortality; it shows me that I am of sufficient -importance to necessitate God's reckoning with -me. Churches, too, must be reckoned with. It would -argue that they were mere nurseries, were hospitals -for people to be convalescent in, mere nonentities, -counting for nothing in the great work of the world -and the mighty purpose of God, if we did not know -that Christ was to reckon with them. They have great -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span> -powers given to them, they have great capabilities, they -have tremendous responsibilities; they can fulfil God's -purposes in the world, and nothing but their supineness -and listlessness hinders them; and God and Christ -must reckon with Churches. I would not have it -different. Let Them reckon with them, and let me remember -that They will reckon with me and my Church; -and let me be full of good works. Christ must reckon -with it, for the Church's sake. How could He but care? -Oh, if we did but believe what we preach and what -we read in our Gospels! It is that Jesus lost all things -which men look for; that He turned aside from every -joy of life; that He gathered sorrows around Him; -that His great heart was broken upon the cross; that -He spent all His life—for what? That He might save -men from eternal banishment from God; that He might -put happiness instead of misery into every house where -there are unholiness and evil; that He might make men -brighter and better. His great heart was all warm and -eager for it. Oh, what He has sacrificed! He is a -disappointed, lost man if He fails, and if He succeeds -it must be done through His congregations, through -His Churches, through men and women here. How -can He but care? how can He but watch? As all -the Church's activity goes by before God's throne, the -recording angel takes it down. Does He see a Church -whose members have taught the little children on the -Sunday afternoon to love Him better; a Church which -has made men whose faith in Him was nearly crushed -out by sinful practices think again of Christ and -heaven; a Church which has put a man once more on -his feet, and given him to his wife and children, and -they have been glad because the father and husband -has loved them again? How can it but be that those -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span> -who fight for Him should rejoice when a Church is thus -acting for God, as compared with a Church that does -nothing? Oh, if we could but believe and feel, when -we come into church on a Sunday morning, that Jesus -is watching all that is going on—watching to see -if our hearts are made more soft and tender, more -reverent and gentle, more full of kind thoughts to those -who sit round about us—watching to see if we speak -a kind word—watching to see if we resolve to do more -for Him—watching to see if we can give liberally to -help in what is being done for Him, and to support -those who have special gifts for special work! The -Lord Jesus has His eyes upon us in this spiritual -Church framework. It does bind us together, and, -thank God! I will say of ourselves has bound us together -for much good work, and I believe will bind us -more closely together. If every Sunday morning we -only felt and believed it, and came and knelt and -praised, and listened with light in our hearts, we should -do our work well and have the reward of very faithful -servants.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></div> - -<h2>V.<br /> -<i>A LESSON IN CHRISTIAN HELP.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the -[en]feeble[d] knees; and make straight [smooth] paths for [with] -your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but -let it rather be healed [or, in order that that which is lame may not -be caused to go astray, but may rather be healed]."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> xii. 12, 13.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">SUBJECTED to severe and harassing persecution -on account of their Christian faith, and plied by -subtle arguments and doubts, which had all the more -seductive powers from the immunity from suffering -which would be gained by yielding to them, the members -of the Church to whom this letter was addressed -had become discouraged, depressed, perplexed, and -some, staggered and tempted, were even in danger of -renouncing their allegiance to Jesus of Nazareth. After -warning them of the doom and misery of deserting the -cross of Christ, inciting them to endurance by the long -and shining roll of patriarchs, prophets, martyrs, and -by the example of the dying Saviour, the Apostle explains -to them how all this trial and suffering is the -chastening of Fatherly love, destined to bring forth -the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and finally exhorts -them to rise above their despondency and enfeeblement, -to advance with strong, unwavering faith in the -right path, in order that thereby those who were -crippled by doubt or temptation might be saved from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span> -straying quite away, helped over their difficulties, and -in the end restored to firm and abiding faith.</p> - -<p>The command in the text assumes the existence of -two classes in the Church—those that need help, that -must lean on others, and those who are able and ought -to give help and support. Just as in a flock of sheep, -so in the Church, there will be some strong, vigorous, -active, and others weak, feeble-kneed, lame. Let us -recognise this fact honestly, and be prepared to face it. -Differences and degrees of faith, assurance, consistency, -there are and must be. When the Church of -Christ is oppressed by persecution, seduced by temptation, -assailed by unbelief, do not be amazed to find -that some spirits will be crippled, drawn away into -wrong, just on the very point of being altogether perverted, -and remember that there ought to be others -who, by their indomitable perseverance, their immovable -faith, the unbroken solidarity and persistence of their -march, shall support and carry forward in safety those -who, but for such environment and protection, if left to -combat solitary and unaided, had stumbled and fallen -in the storm of persecution and seduction, or been -clean swept away by the waves of doubt and unbelief.</p> - -<p>There are ever these two classes among the followers -of Jesus—the strong, the brave, the helpful, the steadfast; -the weak, the timorous, the dependent, the wavering. -Brother, to which of these do you belong? Answer -that question honestly, and then think what you should -reply to this other question: To which class ought you -to belong?</p> - -<p>I am confident if Christian men and women would -but enrol themselves not according to their meaner -and unworthier inclinations, but in accordance with the -voice of duty and the promptings of all that is most -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></span> -noble and generous in them, we should not have (as -we do now) in the army of Christ the vast majority -ranking as incapable and non-efficient, while only a -small minority do the fighting and defending. Clearly -my text supposes that the mass will be strong and -helpful, with only one or two feeble, incompetent; just -as in a flock of sheep the greater number are healthy, -whole, and able-bodied, while only a few are disabled -and lamed. It should be so in all our congregations. -Perhaps in some the ideal is fairly realised. But -looking at the Church as a whole, do I exaggerate in -thinking that there are many, very many, who ought -to be able-bodied and aidful, but who regard themselves -as exonerated from active service, as incompetent to -take part in any way in the warfare of the Cross, as -persons to be defended, not to help in the defence?</p> - -<p>How is it with each of you? What is your habitual -attitude when goodness, truth, righteousness, Christ are -assailed? In some social or intellectual company where -the followers of Christ are in the minority, or it may be -where you stand quite alone, you hear virtue or purity -sneered at, condemned; or justice and mercy ridiculed, -discredited; or the faith in things unseen rudely -mocked and denied. Do you then always bravely -speak out for the glory and majesty of purity and goodness, -for the reality and grandeur of God and Christ? -or do you yield to the craven cowardice that lurks -even in regenerate men, and, saying it is for ministers, -or apologists, or the strong and clever to defend Christ, -meanly hold your peace? So far from dreaming -that you are bound to defend the truth, you perhaps -pity yourself for being subjected to such trial, and -admire your own fidelity, that can survive such assaults. -Instead of feeling yourself a coward, you rather regard -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span> -yourself as a martyr, a person much to be commiserated -and admired, and wonder how the Lord should so -heartlessly expose your faith to such trials, while all -the time you are in reality a weak, ignoble recreant. -But you may say, "What! am I to speak when I -know that I should only be ridiculed, laughed at, beaten -in argument, when I am certain my effort would be -defeated, rejected with ignominy?" But there is no -necessity you should argue; nay, if your arguments -will be foolish or weak it is your duty to keep them -to yourself. But you are not bidden to argue, prove, -demonstrate anything; only you are to confess, to protest -against evil, and loyally side with the truth. And if -you are not to do that except when you know you will -be applauded and triumphant, what of your Master's -conduct? He was laughed at, scorned, despised, rejected, -defeated, and He knew it all from the first. -Brother, you are to "follow Him" in all He did, and -so you are to stand by the truth even when you know -it will only bring scorn, scoffs, defeat, failure on you. -Nevertheless be sure in such a defeat and failure only -you shall suffer. As in Christ's death, though He dies, -the truth triumphs, and the crown of thorns becomes a -crown of glory.</p> - -<p>This sin of selfish indolence, of weak-minded inaction, -carries its own penalty with it. Who of us has not -learned the terrible retribution by bitter experience? -If you who ought to have been strong, who ought to -have defended your Lord, were guilty of timidly shirking -your duty, of feebly failing to declare your faith, -then your faith will seem to you a poor, weakly thing, -and Christianity itself feeble and infirm. In these days -of outspoken unbelief, of staggering attack, and of -widespread defection, if you think only of yourself, feel -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span> -no obligation of defence, yield aggrievedly to terror -and alarm, regarding yourself as wronged in being -exposed thus, and reproaching others who, you think, -ought to have been able to silence such foes and quite -shelter you from seduction, then your faith will be -shaken, your hands hang down, and your knees tremble. -But if you felt yourself bound to be considerate of -others, to be one of the strong, not one of the feeble, to -defend the infirm and the timid, how different it would -be with yourself! you would have courage, faith, -strength; in this fashion doing the will of God, you -would learn that the doctrine was of God.</p> - -<p>In the case of Christianity men act as they would be -ashamed to act in other situations. You who are so -given over to alarms, so hopeless of the faith, suppose -you were in a ship that has sprung a leak, how should -you act? Should we find you among the timid and -the hysterical, who lose head and heart, refuse to help -at the pumps, fling themselves in despair on the deck, -and do their best to dishearten and impede the brave -men who, keeping their misgivings to themselves, toil -on with bravery to try and save the lives of all? There -are some constituted with such despondent, enfeebled -nerves as to be excusable for such conduct, but in the -Christian Church there are many with no such justification, -who shake their heads gloomily, cry despairingly -that the Church is in danger, the faith abandoned, do -their utmost to weaken and dispirit their brethren, all -the time never dreaming how weak and cowardly is -their conduct, or that they ought rather to be comforters, -helpers, defenders.</p> - -<p>The cause of this ignoble conduct seems to me to -consist in the fact that many Christians have got to see -only one side of Christianity, and that the selfish or -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> -personal side. They have learned that by becoming -Christ's He undertakes to save them, but they have -failed to apprehend that, on the other hand, this relation -involves that they are to serve Him. Again, their -notion of what is implied in entering the membership -of the Church is quite as one-sided. They consider that -the purpose of this tie is that you may be cared for, -guarded, developed by the Church—all which is true; -but then they quite fail to see that also you are bound -to aid, defend, and protect the Church. How many -Christians are there who never dream of owing any -duty to the Church, but consider it to be simply constructed -for the purpose of doing everything for them -needful for salvation. Within it they are to be surrounded -by sanctifying influences, fed by ordinances, -guarded in its holy atmosphere from the world's miasma; -in a word, they are to be fostered, preached to, prayed -for, visited, tended, and all the time they have nothing -whatever to do for the Church. But while all -this is done by the Church, that is not the only nor -the cardinal conception of either the Church or its -members. Brethren, the Church of Christ is a great -army of valiant and able-bodied soldiers, sent out to -battle with evil, led on by officers who ought indeed -to encourage and care for the men, but whose main -duty, nevertheless, is to lead them to conflict and conquest. -According to this modern notion, that Church -members are to do nothing but be cared for and protected, -the Church is made to be more a sort of great -nursery or convalescent hospital, provided with a staff -of doctors, nurses, and visitors, and the Church members -are not soldiers, but rather a sect of weaklings, invalids, -and infirm, who are just kept in life by ceaseless care -and nursing.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></div> - -<p>From this mistaken and perverted notion of what it -means to belong to Jesus Christ, from the miserable -failure to recognise the public and primary obligations -resting on all the Lord's followers, from forgetting that -the kingdom of God is founded not merely to foster -and ripen those in it for heaven, but that they may -extend its conquering boundaries over all the world; -from these unhappy errors spring the impotency, the -half-heartedness, the dispirited timidity of so large a -part of the Church in the present day. This is the -origin of that general sort of notion as if we should -be thankful if Christians just survived; as if it were -natural and changeless that the Church should be -despised and scorned; as if against unbelief Christianity -should not venture to raise her voice very -assuredly, but stand on the defensive, and be thankful -if she can just hold her own; as if it were natural and -normal that Christians should find their faith hard -pressed, hardly able to stand its ground, and they -themselves feel weak, timid, alarmed, and helpless.</p> - -<p>But perchance you may be inclined to defend this -state of mind and this selfish notion of Christianity; -nay, you may think that you have Scripture on your -side. In opposition to the assertion that in place of -being merely cared for, you are to fight, and in place -of being timid, you are to be brave, you may recall the -fact that Christ compares His people to sheep whom -He shelters safely and tends in a snug fold, free from -struggle and terror; and urge that sheep are not suggestive -of combativeness, and that it is natural for them -to tremble when a lion roars outside, and to count on -the shepherd driving the evil beast away, while nobody -expects them to face the ravager. But do you not see -that our Lord meant that comparison to illustrate only -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span> -His relationship to them and His treatment of them? -while if you are to infer from it also that He meant -them, in their attitude to the world and unbelief, to be -timid and helpless as sheep, then how do you explain -that elsewhere they are compared to soldiers, commanded -to be valiant, fearless, daring? If they are to -do no fighting, then why are they told to put on the -whole armour of God, to be faithful unto death, to -endure hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ? -Ah, we are very fond of these pleasant, comfortable -comparisons, and are constantly perverting them by -misapplying them to positions they have nothing to do -with. But you may reply, "Did not our Lord say -Himself, to His disciples, that He sent them out as -sheep among wolves?" Yes, indeed, but only to -inform them of what treatment they might expect from -the world, not surely with the intention of indicating -that they were to meet the world's hostility as a sheep -meets a wolf's, cowering, trembling, fleeing. If He -meant that they were to be timid, helpless, sheeplike, -why did He say also, "I give you power to tread on -serpents and scorpions and over all the power of the -enemy"? why did He send them out to conquer the -world? How was it that the disciples so thoroughly -misunderstood the command? When Peter, facing the -hostile judges, avowed that he would obey God, and -not them, that was not timid, that was not sheeplike. -When Paul fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, that, -too, was not at all in the manner of a sheep among its -foes. When the Apostle, in the same Epistle, bids the -readers resist unto blood, when you remember how so -many of our Lord's followers have indeed sealed their -witness with their lives, surely it is plain that we have -forgotten one side of our Christian duty. We ought to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> -be "wise as serpents" in dealing with the foe, "harmless -as doves" to our brethren and friends; but that is -very much inverted now, and the chief characteristic -of many a soldier of the Cross is just his perfect harmlessness -in the combat. Brethren, you look for the -crown of righteousness that sparkled before Paul's -closing eyes, bright amid the gathering shades of his -martyr death. But that crown was not gained without -hazard, not won by slothful ease, but earned on many -a bloody, painful field, while he "fought the good fight." -Believe me, there shall be no crown for you unless, -like Paul, you too have fought that fight, and kept that -faith, for which he bravely lived and bravely died.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless there will always be among Christ's -disciples those that are weak-handed, feeble-kneed, and -lame; some permanently and constitutionally affected -with feebleness and infirmity; and now and again a -strong one maimed, injured by extreme and undue -exposure, or crippled by some untoward accident. It -was so among these Hebrew Christians. Intimidated -by persecution, disheartened by the spoiling of their -goods, shaken by the arguments of unbelief, several -grew less steadfast in their confession of Christ, others -were perplexed and confused, and some were just on -the verge of deserting and abandoning the faith. -Among us there is no more imprisoning, goods spoiling -and persecution to stagger our faith in Christ, but -there are instead a whole world of seductions, of discouragements, -of mockeries, and of unbelieving sneers. -Still, too, there are with us the weak, the maimed, -the misled; many who never have attained to much -spirituality or consistency; others who for a time went -well, but became entangled in the mazes of the world's -sinful attractions, or were overtaken by sudden temptation, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">{142}</a></span> -enfeebled by persistent opposition and ridicule, -paralysed by difficulties, disappointments, doubts, or -unbelief.</p> - -<p>I wish we did more fully realise and constantly -remember that there are to be among Christ's own -ones really such as these, weaklings, cripples, tempted, -fallen; brethren overtaken by snares, seductions, unbelief, -whom we ought to pity, whom we ought to help. -Only it is needful to bear in mind that we are not to -conclude that every one who gives himself out as such -is really a wounded brother, to be sympathised with and -aided. For there are many who only imagine themselves -distressed, who give themselves out as greatly -tried and buffeted, more from a kind of mental hypochondriasis -or foolish fondness for being talked of and -fussed over. This is especially so in the matter of -doubt and religious difficulty. For just as it happens -that in the fashionable world it is sometimes proper to -have a lisp or limp, in imitation of some dignitary, so, -unfortunately, at the present day it has become fashionable -to go halt of one foot in faith; and there are -persons, thoroughly excellent and orthodox in reality, -who are impelled to let all their acquaintances know -what dark struggles of soul they pass through, and of -how much it costs them to face the unbelieving spectres -of their minds. Brethren, when a man has a real skeleton -in his closet he does not go round the circle of his -friends, flaunting that unpleasant fact in their faces. -When a man tells you, with a smile of complacent -superiority on his face, of his conflicts with doubt, you -need not expend much sympathy or anxiety on him; -like all other affectations, this one may be left to die a -natural death. No, the man to whom doubt is a real -spectre, a veritable agony, does not blazon his pain -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> -abroad; like Jacob's wrestle with his dread midnight foe, -the real soul-struggles are fought out in darkness and -alone. It is these who are truly stricken, wounded, -well-nigh carried away—these, and these alone, whom -you are asked to pity and to help.</p> - -<p>But as a matter of fact, how do we Christian men and -women who have not fallen treat such weaker brethren, -I mean persons who have really been crippled, really -erred? The text very plainly implies that we are not -to cast them off, but to compassionate them and seek -to recover them. Nay, mere human kindness would -require the same. As soldiers seek to rescue, not to -slay, a comrade well-nigh carried off by the foe, so -surely we Christians should not attack, but strive to -regain a brother captured in the meshes of temptation -or unbelief. And no doubt to a very large extent -true Christians do act so, though I fear not with that -unvarying pitifulness that ought to extend the same -charity to all. Do we not make unrighteous differences, -leaving room for restoration to some of the erring, and -closing heart and door against others? Partly from -thoughtlessness, partly from prejudice, partly from contempt -of what is weakness or cowardice, there are some -falling, straying souls whom we treat too much like -those evil animals that whenever one of the herd is -wounded or crippled fall upon the victim and tear him -in pieces. When we hear of a brother falling, doubting, -denying, have we not all sometimes felt only anger, -reprobation—nay, uttered sharp, cruel, merciless words -of final condemnation and irretrievable doom? Do we -not often treat erring ones so? It is very natural, for -these feeble-handed, weak-kneed, crippled ones are an -eye-sore, unpleasant to have to do with, a discredit to -the Church and the most convenient plan is to cast them -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></span> -off. Nevertheless, it is most inhuman, most unchristian, -and can only spring from one of two errors. Either you -do not have that fraternal love for all your brethren in -Christ which you ought to have. When your brother -after the flesh, or your son, catches a deadly complaint (it -may be through his own recklessness and disobedience), -or is wounded by some hostile assault, you do not in -anger cast him out to die, for you love him. Would -God we had more love among Christians! Or it may be -the reason of your harsh treatment is that you mistake -your straying, doubting brother for an enemy, and fail -to see that he is a victim. Of course there is a great -distinction between one of Christ's little ones swept -into doubt, and a hostile, malignant unbeliever, seeking -to harm the flock. This last you must indeed oppose, -and seek to drive out of the fold, though even then you -will feel for him as our Lord did when He wept over -Jerusalem, and on the cross prayed, "Father, forgive -them." But it is not of such we speak now, only of -those who are themselves not wolves, but wounded, -wandered sheep. Remember, therefore, that they are -your brethren, and pity and help them.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you say, "What! can it be right to feel -pity, kindness, compassion, love for men who have gone -astray from Christ, rebelled against the Master, forsaken -and denied the Saviour?" Remember how Jesus -treated the eleven, who deserted Him, Peter, who denied -Him, Thomas, who would not believe. Nay, more, can -you for one moment doubt the rightfulness of feeling so -to sinning brethren, be they as bad as they may, and of -treating them so, you who do believe that from all -eternity God set His love, compassion, saving purpose -on sinners—rebellious, hateful sinners—without one -spark of merit or goodness in them to deserve it? -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> -Brethren, it is not wrong, it is not weak, it is noble, -Christlike, Godlike to pity, to love, to tenderly seek and -save the lost, the sinning, the erring, the fallen.</p> - -<p class="gap-above">Finally, remark how the text suggests that you are -to render them assistance and support. Suppose it is -a brother becoming involved in worldly or dangerous -entanglements, lapsing into doubtful courses, or yielding -to the freezing influence of ungodly or sceptical companions. -Now, direct interference, immediate intervention, -is not always possible, is often difficult, sometimes -impossible. Besides, often the mischief is already done -ere you perceive it. Or again, it is intellectual difficulty -or doubt that you have to deal with. To meet the -objections, to remove the doubts, would be well, but -perchance you are not skilled, competent to do that; -or it may be they are such as cannot be removed. -Here, again, direct remedies may be impracticable. Are -you, then, powerless, helpless to aid? Far from it. -A method better than all immediate and special action -lies open for you, for all Christian men and women. -"Make straight, smooth paths with your feet." It may -be you cannot personally do anything to support the -maimed or arrest the erring, but you can nevertheless -render most important service. As a flock of sheep, by -all moving on regularly in one united mass, with their -feet smooth down the roughnesses and entanglements -of the way, breaking down the entrapping brambles, -clearing away the furze and tripping briers, leaving -behind them a plain and open track, trodden down and -freed of obstructions, stones, and stumbling-blocks, so -that the weak and crippled are not turned aside or -overthrown; so if the strong and whole body of Christian -men and women will but move steadfastly on amid -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span> -the mazes of temptation and over the stumbling-stones -of evil, the feeble, tempted, erring will be helped -forward, and, borne along in the united, combined -advance, will not fall behind or be baffled, overthrown, -or led astray by difficulties and impediments. Yes, -infinitely more powerful than any isolated rebuke, or -warning, or intervention, is the force of united Christian -example and protecting aid, to keep in the right path -the halt, the maimed, the blind. What the tempted, -the world-seduced, the doubting, the unbelieving need -is not rebukes, cautions, exhortations, refutations of -objections, but it is to be drawn out of the cold, freezing -world of evil and doubt into the warm, living, breathing -atmosphere of loving, real Christian fellowship; to be -surrounded by the resistless progression in rectitude, in -faith and love, of Christlike, God-fearing souls. With -blows of reprimand and logical argument you may -pound and break the ice of sin and unbelief, but though -broken, it remains cold, winter ice, freezing still. Bring -it into the summer radiance, the golden sunshine of -warm Christian life; then it will be melted away, and -the hard heart grow soft and tender in the breath of -the all-quickening Spirit.</p> - -<p>Brethren, it is for this that the Master has gathered -us into families and homes, friendly circles and fellowships, -congregations and churches. It is because some -of His own will be very weak, timid, facile to fall, -lukewarm, tempted, erring, doubting. Have you settled -it with yourself, strong, high-principled, undoubting -Christian, that the Church is not a club of stainless, -perfect souls, but that there are to be in it such foolish, -feeble, ignoble ones, real doubters, backsliders, wanderers, -and that yet they are your brethren, little ones -of the common Lord? And it is just for their sake, that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span> -they may be saved, that He has caused us to be knit -together into one flock, that they may be kept from -falling, restored when they err, strengthened, cheered, -loved, and helped. Ah, we know not for the most part -how much there is of strength and comfort for us in -this! For all of us there is, for even the very strong, -they that have comforted most, sometimes will be very -weak themselves, and long for sympathy and support. -Once even the blessed Master Himself in broken-hearted -agony besought that help, and prayed His -followers, "Tarry ye here, and watch with Me." My -brother, if you can remember a time when you were -enabled to endure, to conquer, because Christian -friends stood around you and watched with you, then -be pitiful to your tempted brother now. It may be that -his limping, stumbling gait is very unpleasant to you, -and you do not care to be known as of his company; his -halt, ungainly walk does not look well beside your high, -triumphal march. Perchance in heaven there is more -good pleasure over his paltry pace than over your proud -progress. Ah, friends, we see too little now to judge, -who know not one another's hurts and trials! We who -have the sunshine on our path, and bounding vigour in -our tread, forget, I fear, how to many struggling souls -the path is very flinty, rough, and hard, swept by wild -storms of passion and rushing floods of fierce temptation; -while the thick darkness and awful solitude, -haunted by mocking spectres of death-like doubts and -fears, wrap them round with a chill, paralysing shroud -of despair. You who have never been so tempted, give -God thanks and be humble, very humble, and lowly, and -merciful. Have infinite forbearance and compassion. -Remember that one harsh word, one hopeless look -from you may numb a last feeble grasp on goodness, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span> -and sink a brother despairing in the black abyss; while -a kindly look, a helping hand, a loving, free, generous -pardon and word of hope from you may be to him the -voice of eternal forgiveness in heaven, and power of -restoration even now.</p> - -<p>Brethren, when, against some brother who has fallen, -sinned or gone astray, quick anger flames in your heart, -and to your lips sharp, cutting words of reprobation -leap, let this word of Christ ring in your ears: "Whoso -shall offend one of these little ones which believe in Me, -it were better for him that a millstone were hanged -about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth -of the sea." And as that word of dreadful condemnation -awes each lurid spark of hasty anger from your soul, -let these words of endless peace, and joy, and mercy -steal in, and soften all your spirit into gentlest pity, -tenderness, and love: "Brethren, if any of you do -err from the truth, and one convert him; let him know, -that he which converteth the sinner from the error of -his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a -multitude of sins." "Wherefore let us lift up the -hands which hang down, and the feeble knees; and let -us make straight paths with our feet, lest that which is -lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be -healed."</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></div> - -<h2>VI.<br /> -<i>JOSEPH'S FAITH.</i><span class="fnanchor"><a name="Ref_1" id="Ref_1" -href="#Foot_1">[1]</a></span></h2> - -<p class="small">"By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing -of the children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his -bones."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> xi. 22.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">FAITH is a word that we hear a great deal of in -theological exposition and in religious teaching. It -is a good thing constantly to remind ourselves of what -its actual meaning is. The 11th chapter of this Epistle -begins with a definition of faith, and then gives -examples of it. The definition is a little hard to understand; -nobody can misunderstand the illustrations. -According to the inspired writer, faith is recognising -the will of God, taking it and doing it; that is faith, -and nothing else is—no theories about God, no rules, -and laws, and definitions about God's government of -the world, no intellectual adherence to any explanation -of theology. Faith, real and living, means that the -God who comes into contact with you in your life and -your world has a will, and shows it to you. If you bow -down before that actual will of God, that it may save -you from your real sins, and that He may use you -in saving the dead around you; if you adore it, and -worship it, and account it the best thing in your life, -and give yourself up to it, as the one thing worth -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span> -doing, though there be many a forsaking and many -a return to God, if you hold on through your life, doing -the will of God, then you are a man of faith.</p> - -<p>Joseph was a man of faith, in the olden times, all -his life long. From his very boyhood he had possessed -faith. In the dreams that came to him as a lad -he welcomed God's face, not quite understanding all He -meant, and a little misusing the high vocation that -came to him, accepting it in the pride of his heart. In -his trials and his prosperity, in his public career, in his -private home life, on his death-bed, he lived with God, -reckoned with God, and loved God, and tried to do -God's will on the earth. One deed stands out supreme -and stupendous. Joseph on his dying bed looked -forward into the future, and there, amidst the mists, -discerned the promise of the world's redemption, forecast -the coming of God's kingdom on earth, and chose -what to him was the greatest and grandest thing in his -dying, and so gave commandment for the burying of -his bones away in distant Canaan.</p> - -<p>I am going to ask you to follow me as I rapidly -sketch the great outstanding elements of struggle and -triumph in Joseph's career, in order that I may show -you the splendid feature of faith, and that in dying he -was still loyal to the dreams of his youth. Joseph -was a younger son. He had the misfortune to be his -father's favourite; he was exempted from hard toil; -he was kept near his old father; his brethren hated -him for it; probably he misbehaved himself; he was -no saint, else there would be no good in my preaching -about him. He had the misfortune to be spoiled by his -father. He had intelligence, and he was wide awake; -but there was nothing in the early years of the lad to -give evidence of any extraordinary ability, or to forecast -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> -any splendid career for him, with the exception of one -thing: Joseph was a great dreamer in his sleep; and -as a boy he woke up from his sleep, and saw visions, -glorious castles in the air; and they were not all floating -away in cloudland, high up above him, but he saw -<i>himself</i> in them; they had an intense personal interest -for him. Perhaps he was very injudicious, and probably -disagreeable, in the tone and fashion of telling -these dreams to his brothers. Their sheaves in the -harvest gathered round and made obeisance to his -sheaf; the meaning plainly being that he was to rise -to great power, that he would hold them in his hand, -and be lord and master over them. They might not -have much interest for us; but Joseph belonged to a -family that believed that they held a unique position in -the world's history, and that they were to bring a great -blessing into this world. They had not grasped exactly -what it was, nor understood the significance of the -spiritual kingdom of heaven; but none the less they -heard God's voice around them, so that this world -became to them a place in which He lived and moved: -thus they rose to the grandeur of the conception that -they were to have a master hand in carving the fortunes -of the world. Out of many of his brethren, God had -selected Joseph to be an inheritor and administrator -of the Divine purpose of blessing to the world, and to -do unique deeds of valour for the kingdom of God.</p> - -<p>Now I have said that the one remarkable thing about -Joseph's boyhood, the one thing that might excite your -expectation about his future, was that he dreamt -dreams; he was a great dreamer in his youth. I can -understand many a shrewd, practical man saying that -that was not much to his credit: "A lad that is always -dreaming dreams will not do much." Quite true, if -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span> -the one, the only purpose of life is to eat and drink -and to gather all the dirt together with the muck-rake; -but if man has a Divine destiny in him, if man lives in -two worlds—a world that you see with your eyes, a -world where money is current, and another world where -your sovereigns are worth nothing, a world of truth and -honour, generosity, love, goodness, self-denial, moral -achievement and victory, then it comes to a great deal; -it means very much for a boy's future if he has dreams -that are not of earth, but of heaven. There are dreams -and dreams. There are dreams that come of laziness, -idleness, selfishness, and over-feeding, gross nightmares, -fit for swine; dreams coming of self-indulgence and -worldliness, poor grovelling things; a man's mind is -not much better for <i>them</i>. There are dreams that are -born of a back-boneless sentimentality, of sweet mock -chivalry, that loves to represent itself in pretty pictures; -not much good comes of them. But there are other -dreams, that come out of a man's wide-awake activity; -dreams that are the vapours rising from a fervent -spirit, from the cooling of the machinery. They work -out the character that God is weaving in that lad or in -that young girl. These dreams are prophetic; they -have something of heaven in them; they are something -higher than the common: from God they come; they -are the threads and fibres by which He would lead us -on to do great deeds on earth, and at last receive us as -faithful and good servants of our Master. I do believe -in the dreams of youth, that come in at that window -which is open heavenward in every young soul, until -the dust and dirt of earth cloud it over; the dreams of -romance, that stupid old people try to crush and drive -out, and that the world puts its heel upon; those -dreams of friendship and honour, of truth and purity, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> -to be chosen rather than worldly gain; those dreams -of love, generous and tender, that shall make two lives -knit together into one of exceptional tenderness and -goodness. There is the breath of heaven here; these -are the golden glows in the mists of life's morning, that -come from God, and are the guarantees of a splendid -sunset on earth, and beyond, a brighter dawn in -heaven. Would to God that all of us, when we are -old men and women, may be able to think without -shame and remorse about the dreams of our youth; -that the woman has been true to her dreams, and has -fulfilled the sweet, unselfish ideals of her girlhood, and -been a noble, loving wife and mother; that the lad has -come through this world, at least comparatively unspotted, -with a heart fresh and tender, not eaten up by -selfishness and greed, with a clean conscience, with the -benediction in his old age of having made other men -happy and good. Oh, the worst enemies of your -dying bed, that will come to mock you, will be the -dreams of your youth, of your boyhood and girlhood, -should they be unfulfilled! But if you can only in part -realise them in your life they will be angels that will -come to comfort you.</p> - -<p>There is a great deal more dreaming done in this -world than we dull, prosaic, old people will allow. It -is not merely the lads and girls that dream, for the fact -is that we do not know how much we ourselves dream; -both young and old do it, but with a difference: the -young folks mostly dream about themselves, and the -old folks are tired of dreaming about themselves; but -there are the wonderful dreams in the hearts of fathers -and mothers, to keep their children pure and good, and -to make them happy. What would the world be without -those sweet, loving dreams? Thank God for them! -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span> -How much it means for the boy and the girl that their -mother dreamt noble things for them when they were -young! There never was a man yet that came to be a -very great or good man in God's world but his mother -dreamt how he was to be brave, true, generous, loving, -helpful to others; and because her dreams came from -God, she prayed for that son that he might be good, -and brave, and noble, and the lad grew great because -his mother dreamt great things for him.</p> - -<p>There is a sad experience that almost all young folks -must come to: the day which breaks so shiningly, with -such sweet promise of goodness, nearly always clouds -over and grows dark and stormy; the dreams get broken, -the dreams that hover over you and seem so easy to -reach, recede farther and farther, like one of those -Alpine peaks when you are trying to climb it. From -the village you start from, you see a peak which you -think must be the summit, but when you reach it, it is -only to find yourself separated from a far higher ridge -by a valley, which you have to descend in order to reach -it, and you have no sooner climbed up again than you -realise that this, again, is but an intermediate peak. -How toilsome, how weary it is! but in the same way -dreams would be worth nothing if you had not to win -them by struggle and battle. It is the tedium of the -contest, I suppose, that disheartens most. It is not -easy for young hearts to wait for the fulfilment of life's -promise till it can be achieved honestly. Joseph is -trapped in a pit, betrayed by his brethren, sold to slave-merchants, -settled in an Egyptian house, becomes the -bond-slave of Potiphar, torn from father, from his own -country, from his God, Who had not interfered to -protect him, a bond-slave, his dignity gone, all the pride -of life gone! Would it have been wonderful if all the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span> -heart had gone out of him too—if he had said that God -had forgotten him—"My dreams were a delusion; there -is nothing worth living for"? Are there young men -and women here whose hearts are aching very bitterly, -and who are tempted to think that there is no outlet to -this slavery of life? How did Joseph look at it? He -might have broken down, and got wild with despair, -and said to himself, "I will become demoralised;" but -though he lay down at night tired, yet he was cheerful, -and still dreamt his old dreams, and God was over him. -If a man is true to himself and to his God he will -come through anything; if he will be man enough, if -he will not be beaten, if he will make the best of things, -he <i>must</i> conquer. So presently Joseph reached a better -position, things began to look up a little, his master -marked his spirit, and made him his chief slave.</p> - -<p>A lad who had dreamt of being a ruler and king of -men, so that his father would bow before him for what -he could do for him, how terrible it must have been -for the boy to be sold as a slave! How terribly he must -have been tempted to say, "God has deceived me; He -made me to dream dreams, and here I am left in a -dungeon, a slave: I cannot get what I want honourably; -I will get it dishonourably; I will snatch the -fruit of life, even if it be in defiance of what God and -good men call right"! That is the temptation that -drives many a lad to dishonesty and treachery, and -many a girl to bitterness and sin. It came to Joseph -in the deadliest form. The mistress of the household -made overtures to him which, had he accepted them, -would have meant immediate promotion, perhaps to -the court; for her husband was the chief of Pharaoh's -body-guard. Could there have been devised a deadlier -temptation for that poor, homeless boy, so treacherously -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span> -treated by those who should have loved him—who -had dreamt such dreams, and had such proud ambitions, -and withal no danger of discovery if he would -but take the path that opened up the way of promotion? -I think that was the crisis in Joseph's life; that was -the supreme deed which determined his destiny. Then -it was that he had to stand, and stand for ever, for -God and good, or to fall and sink for ever into ruin. -And what saved him? I will tell you what saved him. -When Fortune tells a clerk that he has but to take a -little of his master's money, which he can repay very -soon, and she will smile on him, what he will do all -depends upon his past. Those dreams of Joseph's -meant everything to him at that great moment. If -his dreams had been of the flesh, if his dreams had -been base, and selfish, and sordid, and of grasping -the world's gains, honourably if possible, but anyway -grasping them, he could not have stood. But that boy -had dreamt of being a prince, a king among men; he -had dreamt of a noble, stainless manhood, of self-respect, -and honour, and truth; and he had dreamt of God -caring about him, of God choosing him to be His -instrument in this world; he was a lad in whose soul -the whispers of childhood's prayers and of morning -devotions murmured, with sweet echoes of heaven. -A lad on whose head still rests the soft pressure of -the blessing of his Father in heaven is no game for -the devil. Joseph turned from that temptation without -a moment's faltering; he said to himself, "Be a traitor -and a knave! stain my soul and my manhood with -this foul lust!"—and in the presence and the sight of -God he conquered; he was loyal to the dreams of his -youth, and the result was that he went to prison.</p> - -<p>Young men and women, do you sigh? You would -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> -fight the battles of life bravely enough, and resist its -temptations, if there were a fair field and no favour; -but treachery and dishonesty are saturating everything. -It is not the best men who get the best wages. -The whole city is full of cheating. I am afraid it is so, -for many good men have told me they could hardly -keep their hands clean. When you hear of a lad -going to the bad, for God's sake be just; be not hard -on him; it is but the common immorality tolerated -everywhere. But what of that? Are you going to -lose your life, and stain your conscience, because -another has injured you? So long as you do not -injure yourself, never mind; be a man in the image of -God.</p> - -<p>If you come nearer and nearer to that standard it -will be a grander work to do in your lifetime, if you -live in a poor lodging-room till your death, than to -become a millionaire by injustice or cruelty. In prison -Joseph played the man; he was not broken nor -dispirited. And remember what I said about dreams. -Those dreams of his did not allow him to lie down -idly in the prison; he wanted to do everybody's work. -Joseph was industrious, and kept working on because -of his dreams. The keeper of the prison was evidently -a man who was glad to have things managed for him; -and Joseph got promoted in a wonderful way till he -reached the royal court, and aided by perseverance -and intelligence and an untarnished character, he -became the premier, the first prince in the land. And -now followed—what, do you think? Prosperity, peace, -ease? No; immense responsibility, discharged nobly -by Joseph, and perilous temptations. When a man -has overcome the temptations of adversity I can tell -him that he has fought a splendid battle, but the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> -deadliest are those that come in the days of prosperity. -The generous deeds that you thought you would do, -when you were a poor clerk, if you were only wealthy—the -help to churches, to missions, to the poor, -where are they? You know the story told in all the -collection sermons about a man who gave liberally -when he was poor, but did not give in the same -proportion when he grew rich, and explained it by -saying that when he was poor he had a guinea heart, -but now it was a penny heart! But Joseph conquers -once more. He loves his cruel brothers tenderly, and -he brings them, with the old father, to the land of -plenty, and tends them. What was his temptation? -It comes out later on, and with it the reason why he -triumphed over it. While the old man lived the -brothers that had betrayed Joseph were safe, because -of his love to his father; but when he dies the brothers -are fearful lest Joseph should wreak his vengeance on -them, and so they come with their whining lie to him; -the old father had told them, they say, to implore -Joseph to be still generous to them. Joseph burst into -tears to think that his brethren had judged so meanly -of him. But to do these men justice, we must confess -that the average man would act as they did. How -came it that Joseph had preserved the heart of his -boyhood amid his Egyptian prosperity? Men and -women, do you want to know the secret of a pure and -loving life? Do you want to know the magic formula -that will lift you up and ennoble your character, so that -it will not occur to you to pay off old wrongs when you -get the chance, the formula that will make you a blessing -to others? It is to open your heart wide to the -sight, and the touch, and the presence of God in your -life and in your world. When I hear wise men, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> -men that mean the world good, telling us that we shall -be able to preserve morality when we have ceased to -believe that Jesus had a Father in heaven, when we believe -that we live our little day, and then die and vanish, -and the world goes on as well without us, my heart -sickens within me. Tell men and women that they -are the highest race of beasts, and what motives have -they for being generous and doing noble deeds? Take -away the good Jesus, take away the great high heaven -with its sunshine, crush down a low roof over our -earth, and you crush out life's grandeur. Tell men that -every human spirit has in it something mysterious, -that death means something awful, that their souls are -born for eternity; then life becomes great and solemn, -and the great thought arises that we are born to be the -sons of God.</p> - -<p>And now the last thing in Joseph's life. I think that -when he died all men and women in Egypt were talking -about him, and I am pretty sure they talked about -him as much in a mistaken fashion and with as many -blunders as people will talk about you and me when -we die. There is no man that ever lived yet that was -known to the world; God only knows what we are; -so when we die they are bound to speak of us better -or worse than we deserve, for they will not know you -nor me as we are known to God, as we have lived, and -what has been our purpose in life, how earnestly we -have striven for it; these are known to God, and to -Him only. Thank God, there are more merciful judgments -up there in heaven about us than the kindest on -earth will deliver. I am pretty sure that the Egyptians -all said that Joseph would be proud to be buried in -Egypt. He had lived very nearly all his life there. Had -he not brought his relatives there? Was he not engrossed, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span> -heart and soul, in Egypt, with not a particle of -interest left for the old land, the old home, and the old -life? We may imagine what would have been the -exclamations of astonishment if the Egyptians could -have listened at the dying bed of the prince and statesman, -and have heard that while all the time he had -been a loyal servant to his royal master, his heart was -nevertheless away in the land of his boyhood, and that -the future he was looking for was not a future of immortality -among the Egyptian dead. "Promise me this -one thing," he says, "that when God takes you back to -the sweet dear land, back to make God's kingdom -there, you will take all that is left of me, that you will -take my bones out of this Egypt, where I have been in -body, but never in spirit." Oh, the grandeur of such -an utterance! All the Egyptian greatness, power in -one of the mightiest empires the world has ever seen, -is as nothing to him compared with the power that his -dreams of sweetness, and goodness, and the service of -God had over him. That is a life that is not broken -in two when death comes.</p> - -<p>Men and women here, who have said your prayers -when you were young, and have stopped praying now; -who have gone into society and given yourselves up to -the world, stop and look at your poor broken life, and -before it is too late come back to where in your childhood -you knelt at God's throne.</p> - -<p>Oh, young men and women that have dreamed -Joseph's dreams, pray to God that you may dream the -dreams of your childhood once more, if you have let -the lust and greed of the world into your heart! Old -men and women, for whom this world is not long, go -back to your childhood, and end your life as you -began it.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">{161}</a></div> - -<p>This is the supreme thought (and I like to end with -it, for it is a comforting thought too) in the story of -Joseph's life; because I know that there are so many -lives crippled and broken through their own fault, as -well as through the wrongs and injuries of others; -lives dark, and poor, and disappointing; lives that have -no triumph in this world, and find it very hard to keep -up heart, to keep true to hope, and faith, and God. -Listen to the lesson of Joseph's life. No true life of -goodness to man and God can ever be a failure. In a -pit, in a dungeon in far-off Egypt, you may seem to be -shut out of all splendid achievements; wronged and -smitten by the storms of life, it may seem as if God -had left you; but if you can only keep your heart -sweet, and good, and pure; if you can but keep yourself -honourable, and generous, and loving, then, though -God may give you no ties of home life, and all may -appear dark and cheerless; if you can only keep yourself -a good, sweet, loving woman, a brave, true, honourable -man, if you can but hold fast to your faith, there -is a great God over you, there is a Christ who came to -die to save you, there is a holiness which God will give -you. If you will but hold fast to the end—to <i>His</i> end,—then -your life cannot be a failure; its roots are in -God, and its end shall be with God; from heaven you -came, and to God you shall return.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nodent"><a name="Foot_1" id="Foot_1" href="#Ref_1">[1]</a> -Preached on Sunday evening, October 20th, 1889, in St. John's -Wood Presbyterian Church.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">{162}</a></div> - -<h2>VII.<br /> -<i>THE BRAZEN SERPENT.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"He [Hezekiah] removed the high places, and brake the images, -and cut down the groves, and brake in pieces the brasen serpent -that Moses had made: for unto those days the children of Israel did -burn incense to it: and he called it Nehushtan."—<span class="smc">2 Kings</span> xviii. 4.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">IN that verse we hear the last of the brazen serpent; -this morning I am going to put before you some -practical thoughts that spring from the whole story. -What has the brazen serpent got to do with our modern -life? The children of Israel, with their cattle and -sheep, wandering about the wilderness, get sick of it, -complain against God and against Moses, and are ready -to break into active rebellion. They are punished by -a sudden attack of venomous serpents that sting them, -and they, in dread of death, lose that sham courage of -theirs and independence, and they appeal to God to -save them. He bids Moses manufacture a mysterious -brazen serpent, put it upon a pole, and then, if any -dying Israelite looks at that serpent it heals him. The -brazen image is regarded ever after as clothed with -great sanctity. It was once the supernatural channel -of life direct from God to dying men, and so, in course -of time, men came to it, and in its vicinity offered up -their prayers, and finally burned incense to it, and -surrounded it with a false worship. Then comes a -reforming king, who regards that symbol of wonderful -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">{163}</a></span> -old power Divine and goodness, that has been turned -into an idolatrous and superstitious instrument of -human degradation; and, divided between his respect -for it and his consciousness of the mischief it is doing, -he finally decides to break it into pieces, scatters it -into the dust, and there is an end of it. Now, what -has all that got to do with your life and mine? The -Hebrew history does not have its meaning lying just -on the face of it. If you take the bare letter you will -not get much out of it; if you stick to the bare letter -you will find yourself landed in a great many difficulties -that are puzzling good people and bad people at the -present day, and all the time, whether you attack those -difficulties with a profound faith or with a doubting, -critical, sceptical spirit, you may be missing the very -heart of the story. Because Hebrew history is manifestly -history written with a purpose. It was never -intended that it should be taken as an exact reporter's -chronicle of external things that happen. The real -interest of the writers is something different; it is to -get down below the surface, in behind the scenes, to -come upon the great hands of God fashioning this -world's story. They felt that beneath all the events, -common and secular, that befell them, the battles they -had to fight, the journeys they had to make, the famines -that destroyed their crops, the outbursts of prosperity, -the victories that were won by them, the lives they -lived in homes like ours—behind and beneath all that -they felt that God held the reins in His hand, that He -Himself was thinking of them, had designs in them, -was shaping and fashioning their fortunes, controlling -all that befell them, and they comprehended that the -greatest thing in this world is to get to know God.</p> - -<p>The people at this point in their story had been -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">{164}</a></span> -wandering about in the wilderness for nearly forty -years; at last they had been led by Moses to the very -edge of the territory of Edom. Nothing lay between -them and the land God had promised them except -the country belonging to their kinsmen, the Edomites. -You can understand how the hearts and faces of the -people were flushed with eager expectation. Oh! they -were so sick of that restless, weary life in the barren -desert, and the pictures were called up before their eyes -in their dreams at night, and in their day visions -through the bright sunny hours, of those smiling vineyards, -those oliveyards, and those waving cornfields in -that land flowing with milk and honey, existing somewhat -in fact, but very much in the imagination of those -who were to be its possessors. Nothing lay between -them and the actual possession and enjoyment but the -country of Edom, so they sent an eager message to -the king, their kinsman, asking leave to pass through -the territory so that they might get at their enemies -and his. The king of Edom doubted them, or he was -churlish, and refused to give them passage. No doubt -every brave young Hebrew warrior went to Moses at -once and said, "Let us force our way through; if -they will not yield us passage we shall make it for -ourselves—we are able, we have the weapons, we have -the spirit; let us get at the homes that are waiting for -us." But then that would have been to enter into the -land of promise with a bloodstain on their conscience, -with a bitter, bad memory, spoiling all the joy of it; -for those Edomites were their blood relations, and blood -meant a vast deal in those old days—even if your -brother treated you ill you must not stain your hands -with his blood. To have your very living and money-making -all corroded with that colour of blood of a near -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">{165}</a></span> -kinsman shed, was to get what your heart longed for, -but to get it spoiled. So Moses, under Divine guidance, -told them, "We must go back into the wilderness, we -must make a big, roundabout march, and reach the land -at some other point." Unwillingly the people agreed; -they packed up all their baggage once again, put their -weapons into their sheaths, turned their backs on the -smiling land of Canaan, and their faces to the arid -stretch of the sandy, scorched wilderness, and set out. -But before they had gone very far their spirit ran short—that -is what the old Hebraist says literally—their -spirit ran down, they could not stand it. Man turned -to man, and said, "This is too hard; more than man -can endure; the thing is intolerable; Moses is blundering; -let us depose our leader and choose generals of -our own, and force our way across Edom into the -Promised Land. What is the use of this God—this -Moses who brought us out of Egypt and kept us in the -wilderness all these weary years—at every new camp -leaving a graveyard behind us, dying man after man, -with no prospect before, no progress made, no goal -reached, no land of rest attained?"</p> - -<p>Now I wonder how many of my hearers to-day are -wandering in the desert just like these Hebrews, and -have been wandering in a wilderness for years and years. -I am pretty sure that that is so with some of you old -folks with white hair on your heads. Ah! it is so very -far away in the Eastern world and in Old Testament -times, this story of these wanderers, never living in a -comfortable house, never owning any land, packing up, -and on again, wondering where they are going to die, -with nothing much to look forward to. Yes, but here -in London, living in your own house, in your own -workshop, there are men and women wandering in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> -wilderness. Ah! what a deal of weary waiting there -is for young men and maidens, in this artificially bad -society of ours at the present day—which has been -made by selfishness much more than by the love of -God and the love of man—waiting with divine instincts -that God has put into their hearts; dreaming of a land -of promise, a land of rest, a land flowing with milk and -honey.</p> - -<p>Ay, it is wandering in a wilderness. Our hearts -were not made to live in a wilderness; our hearts were -made to live in homes; we were all meant to be in a -promised land. There is no need to ask who is to -blame. There the wildernesses are, and they have to -be got through. It is not easy. Many a time the -bravest heart breaks down. The last straw breaks the -camel's back. Some little extra worry or care adds -itself on, and then the gentle woman or the courageous, -uncomplaining man is broken in heart and spirit—oh! -so weary—ay, and if they have a tender conscience, -upbraiding themselves, counting it sin to feel so tired. -Why have they not been doing good? Have they not -been following the steps of Jesus? And there they -are worn out in being good as He was. Do you -remember how sometimes He sighed a great sigh? -how sometimes He was so sick of men and their waywardness -and selfishness and wilfulness, that for His -soul's sake He fled from them and hurried off to the -mountain-top to get away above the world, up beneath -the blue sky into the purer air, up where God was -direct above Him, and He all alone; then came back -next morning all the braver and able to bear the battle -once again? No, do not blame yourself if you are often -very weary. Do not try to pretend that you like your -wilderness, that you do not wish anything different. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> -You may have got so used to your wilderness as to -be like those people in the old Bastille. Some of the -prisoners, we are told, were not willing to go into the -world again; they did not know it. So there are hearts -that get so wedded to sorrow that they are almost -afraid to have done with it. Still, as a general rule, -hearts do long for joy, for sunlight, for success. It -is human nature, and there is no harm in being weary -when the clouds are always over the heavens. Christ -was weary, and He understands you and your heart.</p> - -<p>Now, I have willingly allowed myself to run the risk -even of exaggeration in sympathising with the men and -women whose lives are a wilderness, and who are -exposed to these dangers in their weariness, in the -hardness of their battle. But now, precisely because -of that danger, to steel your heart against its temptations, -I am bound to speak about the other side; I am -bound to ask you men and women, whose lives are not -so good and rich as they ought to be, "Is not the blame, -at least somewhat, your own?"</p> - -<p>Why had these Israelites been wandering forty years -in the wilderness? God had led them to the edge of -the Promised Land, and bidden them go in and take it, -and they had not the manhood to do it, they were such -cowards that they trembled, they were craven-hearted; -and so they could not enter because of their unbelief. -Ah! it was no good to turn round on God and blame -Him; it was no good to attack the brave-hearted -Moses; it was their own fault that their life was spent -in the wilderness. But, more than that, we must not -make too much of the hardship, and the pain, and the -weariness of wilderness wandering. It is human nature -to want always sunshine and to hate storms; to love -hours of play and shirk hours of toil; but, after all, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">{168}</a></span> -does not the rain do as much for the corn as the sunshine? -Does not darkness do as much on earth as -light? Do we not need hardness as well as lightness in -our inner lives if we are to make ourselves men and -women? It was years of wandering in the wilderness -that turned those Egyptian slaves into the dauntless -warriors that carried Canaan by storm. Ah! men and -women sitting in the church to-day with your children -round you, do not spoil their lives, but lead them to -live nobly. Was it not when you were kept to your -tasks and toil, when you got your share of the world's -burdens and the world's pain—was it not in the things -least agreeable to you that there were formed within -you elements of character that are doing most to make -your joy to-day? Oh, do not grudge them to your -children, do not grudge them to yourself! God gives -them. Surely it is supreme wisdom to take our life in -its entirety from God, to sing through the whole gamut -of life, the low wailing note of sorrow as well as the -bright, dancing, radiant notes of joy, rejoicing in God -so that the music of our life when it is done shall be -filled with the fulness of that great Heart Divine that -planned and fashioned it.</p> - -<p>There was deadly danger in that murmuring of the -children of Israel. You must not imagine that God -resented it because of the insult to His dignity. God -is above such a feeling as that, He does not resent the -ignorance, with the mixture of superstition, that goes -into the lives, ay, of good men and women, Protestant -or Roman Catholic. He takes men's hearts and their -real life. It was not the insult to Him in their murmurs -that made Him deal with them so strongly. Oh, it was -not sternness at all that dealt with them, it was love -unutterable! They were ready to spoil their lives, to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">{169}</a></span> -rush away on their own plans to make their fortunes, -and so to bring themselves to ruin. Do you know how -God checked them? They were complaining of the -food that they had, and of their long weary marches, -and the heartlessness of their toil in the wilderness, -instead of having comfortable homes and rich farms, -and God cured them by sending among them fiery -serpents that bit them, filled their veins with venom, -agony, and death, and as they lay there writhing in -pain with death looking into their eyes they said, -"What fools we were to repine and complain because -of the bread that was tasteless and the life that was -void of interest." That was God's way of curing men -who were about to spoil their lives by discontent. Is -it not God's way still? You men sitting there, do you -remember that for years you had been bad-hearted, -bitter, discontented, because your life was not great or -famous, till God sent that deadly illness and you lay in -bed like to die, and then you would have given all you -had to get back to that life that you thought so little -of? I have seen the father who made the foolish mistake -of harping too much on the faults and failings of -those who dwelt in his home, not acknowledging the -large amount of good and obedience, but ever making -misery and bitterness there, and thinking himself justified -in doing it, accounting himself an unappreciated, -unrewarded man, till a day came when God sent a fiery -serpent into his heart, when the blinds were drawn -down in that house, and a life lay still and silent that -had had faults, but had been sweet, and loving, and -lovable. Or, a real disgrace has come to a home, and -a child has done a deed that might break a father's -heart. Oh, the misery and the pity of it, to see that -man sitting there all alone with his head bent and his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">{170}</a></span> -face buried in his hands, thinking of the years that -might have been bright with joy, and love, and cheer, -and that he in his madness had made bad and bitter! -Ay, it was a fiery serpent, but it was effective.</p> - -<p>Yet God's heart shrinks from those sharp penalties -that come to cure us of our sins. See, what happened -the instant those Israelites returned to Him, ignominiously -crying to the very Moses, and the very God, -they had cast off and grumbled at, to come and save -them.</p> - -<p>Ay, but God is more eager than they. Make the -brazen serpent, lose not a moment. Set it up on high, -and tell them that one look is enough, and they shall -live. That is Godlike; that is how God forgives. Why -did God bid Moses make the brazen serpent and set it -up on that pole? God could have healed these men by -telling them to look up even in any way. Why precisely -the brazen serpent should be the instrument of their -cure I do not know; the Bible does not tell me. I can -only tell you a thought that has come to me about it. -Perhaps it was for this reason: It would be surely the -thought of every dying Hebrew who looked at that -serpent and felt a new life pulsing through all his veins, -and the pain of death vanishing away, that that serpent -came from God, and was a very token and proof of the -warm heart-love of God to him. But it would not be -so easy for the man that had been bitten and lay there -dying to think of that fiery serpent that bit him as a -messenger of God's love. He would be more likely to -think that the fiery serpent, that came with death in his -bite, was from the devil. And yet the serpent that bit -him to death came from God, and came from God's love -as absolutely as the serpent that healed. Is not that -it? Could they but put two and two together, would -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">{171}</a></span> -not the thought flash into their heart, "A serpent God -gave to heal; a serpent it was that hurt"? Is it then -so, that the serpent that harmed came from God's love, -as much as the serpent that healed? Is not that just -God's way with you? Do not many of you sitting in -the church to-day remember great sorrows or sharp -blows of disaster that came into your life, and at first -you writhed against them and were in great pain? -You could not think there was any love of God in them; -but they have lain there and they have made your -heart more gentle, they have made your faith more -strong, they have brought God nearer to you, they -have made you kinder in your own home, and you look -at them now with the glow of a goodness that has -grown from them, and you say to yourself that not -merely the goodness that has followed since, but the -pain that came and hurt was from God—from God who -is love.</p> - -<p>How did the healing come to the dying Hebrew who -looked at the brazen serpent? Not from any efficacy in -the serpent, not from any magical virtue in the look; -the new life that came to him came direct from God. -Why, then, did God interpose the looking at the -serpent? Why did God make the cure dependent on -a gaze at a serpent erected there by Moses? I will -tell you why. It was not the look; it was the change -of heart that was in the look that God wanted. The -real mischief that had to be undone was not the bodily -death of those men; there was a worse evil than that, -there was the loss of faith in God, the fracture of a -loving dependence on God. That is the essence of all -sin. Sin is disobedience to God. It means that you -snatch your life out of God's hand, that you will not -live according to God's will, that you make yourself -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> -your God; you will be your own master, you will take -your own way—you can do better for yourself than -God. Now, mark, you never would choose that sinful -course as long as you trusted God. Loss of faith, that -is sin. It is no good talking of cures, no good talking -of salvation, unless you undo the mischief done by sin. -Loss of faith: that is the beginning, the essence, the -end of sin. Ah! that doctrine of salvation through -faith that men mock at and call a legal sophism, it has -got the heart of all truth in it, only I think we are to -blame that we have so much talked of faith as the -means of salvation as if it were some external condition -attached by God to salvation. Faith <i>is</i> salvation; Jesus -Christ hangs there on the cross as Moses lifted up the -brazen serpent. The moment a man believes on Him -he is saved from sin. How? Through some magical -virtue in the cross, in the Body hanging there, in the -blood poured out, or in the man's mental act of faith? -Never, never. That Christ hanging there is the living -embodiment of faith in God: His life, His death, are the -incarnate declaration that all sin is error, that all sin is -an outrage, that men erred and went wrong when they -disobeyed God. He condemns all sin by His life of -holiness, by His death of antagonism against sin, hanging -there on the cross, wrestling with sin, seeking to -undo it, offering to God the world's love and obedience -that sinful men have failed to give to God, dying in their -stead, obeying in their stead, making Himself a perfect -sacrifice and substitute for this world of ours. All that -still would not be salvation, is not salvation, to you until -the sight of it turns you, regenerates you, makes you see -that all your sin was madness, folly; fills you with -hatred of it. When once the love of God binds you -over to follow that Christ in obedience to God, in trust -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">{173}</a></span> -to God, in love of God, that is faith in Christ, that is -salvation.</p> - -<p>That serpent became an object of idolatrous and -superstitious worship. It was very natural, and it is -very evil. Hezekiah with his reforming zeal took it, -and with real reverence, though with seeming external -irreverence, dashed it in pieces. Has not that also a -parallel, hundreds of parallels in Church history? -Hezekiah rightly interpreted the heart of God; he -believed that the great heart of God up there in heaven -was pained every time that a poor ignorant Israelite, -man or woman, poured out on that brazen image the -gratitude that should have gone direct to Him. And so -it is that in the Church's story you find that whenever -priests have set up any channel or means of actual grace -divine, grace supernatural, and have attached to it undue -reverence, and made it bulk too largely in the eyes -and worship of common men and women, so as to come -between them and God, then God has raised up infidels -and unbelievers to break it and dash it to pieces. Was -not that what was done by the Reformers? At the -Reformation, when the Mass had been set between -eager longing hearts of men and women seeking forgiveness -and the great loving heart of God that gives it, it -was taken and shattered. Ay, and when this Bible of -ours—this Protestant Bible of ours, or our great evangelical -doctrines, are taken and have given to them a -place of importance in our salvation and in our belief -that they ought not to have, once again be sure of it -God will create a true, lawful, and blessed recoil, and -you will have these sacred things even dashed down to -a position of undue depreciation. It is God's ways of -leading us to Himself. Ah! there is a grand thought -in that—the unutterable glory about our God that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">{174}</a></span> -shines for me through all the tale of that great battle -about belief, and doctrines, and Church institutions that -makes up the Church's story—through it all what I see -is the heart of God our Father longing for the touch of -our hands in His hands, the gaze of our eyes into His, -giving us things that shall help us to Him, lesson books -to teach us about Him, steps that shall lead us to His -feet. But the moment we make these a barrier that -keeps us far from Him, things sacred and good are -dashed away. What does that mean? It means to -you and me the revelation in all wonder, awe, and -comfort of how tender, near, and true and clinging is -the love of God's heart to you and me—of that God -whom we sometimes think so awful and so terrible, but -who in His inmost being through and through is love, -wholly, absolutely love.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">{175}</a></div> - -<h2>VIII.<br /> -<i>THE GRADATIONS OF DOUBT.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">Psalm</span> lxxiii.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">I AM going to ask you to study with me this morning -the 73rd Psalm. Before I read the Psalm I had -better tell you what it is about; then you will follow -the line of thought in it with greater ease. The central -faith of the Hebrew religion was that God governs -this world according to the principles of morality, that -He is on the side of goodness, and against wickedness. -The facts of life clashed with that dogma of Hebrew -faith. Good men in those old times found it as hard -to believe in God and goodness as we do, and they got -just as little, or just as much, supernatural help as we -do. Therefore they could nowhere find an absolute -certainty; they nowhere received from heaven a supernatural -and complete explanation of the enigmas of -life. God, because He loved them, deliberately left -them to fight their battle for faith with the actual facts -and the actual difficulties. He left them constantly -trying to find a complete intellectual solution of the -problem, and failing to do that, just as we fail; and so -He shut them up to discovering a resting-place for faith -in the heart when they could not get it in the head. A -great many psalms have welled out of men's hearts, -just like fountains away among the hills, and valleys, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> -and slopes. This 73rd Psalm is brimful of human -thoughts, and duties, and longings, pains, and battles, -and victories, just like bits of your life when you were -all alive to the real grandeur of your human existence, -when your heart longed to think loftily of life, and to -hold fast to God, and precisely because your heart was -all alive you found it was not easy. I am going to ask -you to follow this man's struggle against doubt, to watch -the steps by which he descended into the valley of real -questioning of God's goodness and of God's government -of the world, and then to trace the steps by which he -climbed back again to a hill-top of serene and tranquil -certainty.</p> - -<p>I have already indicated to you that I do not think -that anywhere in the Old Testament, or in the New -Testament, or in all Christian theology or philosophy, -does there exist a complete demonstration of the fact -that God is good, and that He is on the side of goodness. -Whether that is true or not every intelligent -believer will admit that this 73rd Psalm is no complete -theodicy. It will not hold its own as a logical demonstration -that the government of this world is moral or -just. The man's certainty that there is a good God, -and that God takes sides with good men, rests not -upon sight, but upon faith; it is a solution of the -heart, not of the head. Thank God! that is the universal -law of religious experience. One thing I want -to point out to you at the beginning, especially to those -of you who are thinkers, and who study the various -religions of the world. There is a very simple characteristic -about the fashion in which the problem of -life is dealt with in those Psalms, when we compare -them, say, with the very finest of Greek devotion and -Greek religion. In all Greek philosophy there is only -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">{177}</a></span> -one fixed quantity—that is, the world. The problem -of Greek thought is this: Given the world, the clear, -solid, certain fact, to find the God that made it. They -took life as it stood, and from its elements and components -they tried to determine what kind of a Maker this -world has had. Now, at the very outset, all through -Hebrew religious thought and philosophy, you find two -fixed quantities. There is the world, but over against it -there is God—God, holy, just, righteous; and therefore, -while the Greek problem was always, Given the -world, to construct God, the Hebrew problem is, Given -the world as it exists, and given God as He exists, -can those be reconciled? It is a very simple and striking -contrast. I will tell you the picturesque aspect that -it gives to the two literatures. Greek thought is all -philosophical, speculative—great minds rising back to -the First Cause, from this actual world; and this world -being what it is, no wonder that at one time they -reached iron Fate, at another time Materialism, at another -time Pantheism, at another time Manichæism. Hebrew -thought does not sway about in that fashion; it is -simply concerned with this—the vindication of God's -character; and there is the striking contrast. In -Greek poetry, in all Pagan poetry, you will find warm-hearted, -large-minded men contemplating life, with all -its great wrongs, injustices, pains, sorrows, disappointments, -and then breaking into pity and compassion for -men. In Hebrew poetry, in Hebrew religion, you will -everywhere find the same dark aspects of life fearlessly -held up, acknowledged, and confronted; but what do -you think is the supreme pain that breaks in upon the -hearts of the Hebrew sages and seers as they contemplate -the world's enigmas? It is anxiety for the character -of God. It is not pity for poor men and women, ground -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> -under the wheels of this earth, but a terribly agonising -question, "How can we defend God and God's goodness -when the world is so evil and so dark?" Ah, you -want to prove what the Bible is by its own light, to -show that it has a right to be spoken of as a revelation -and as inspired! Do not go to all the trivial Mediæval -theories and doctrines about it; go to the book itself, -and go to the world. It can hold its own, without -claiming anything outside to buttress it up. Set the -heart-life in it against the heart-life of any other -religion, and you will see that it has the blue of God's -heaven in it—unsullied, splendid, perfect. Now, I am -going to take this one Psalm—to take one glimpse into -that long, painful chemistry of revelation, as God came -into human hearts with pain and perplexity, with -struggle, with triumph, with glory, and made those -hearts know Him, not through explanations, but by His -indwelling in them, His life, His love, His holiness, -echoing and throbbing into their heart life.</p> - -<p>I am now tempted to break off here for a moment, -and say to you what always strikes me when I look at -that aspect of this revealed, inspired Bible—that it does -seem just possible that the good Christian Church we -belong to in our time is not in quite the right way of -thinking about religious doubt. I am not talking about -doubt of the head, the intellect, and the schools—intellectual -fence, that sort of triviality; let it alone, it is -not worth taking notice of. But the real doubt of any -age, the doubt of any man's heart and head—what are -we to think of that? Are we to stamp it as devilish? -Are we to denounce it, and excommunicate it? Why, -we might be fighting against God. If I read my Bible -aright, real, genuine, patient struggle for faith means -just the birth-throes of God's revelation of Himself in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">{179}</a></span> -men's hearts. Now come to this point, and see what -it reveals to you that is sacred, pathetic, instructive in -the heart of a man dead hundreds of years ago. Look -into his heart, and you may learn a great deal about -your own heart. The problem that confronts him is -the fact that has always been very evident in every -age, that honesty is not by any means always the best -policy, if by that you mean that it pays you best. I -am putting it in homely language. It is a big question. -Do the world's good things go predominantly to the -good men? or do they go to the clever and unscrupulous -men? In the professions is it your honest, truthful -man, of modest merit, that succeeds best, or your humbug, -impostor, flatterer, self-advertiser? In the State, -in politics, is it your honest man, that speaks truths to -the people, that is lauded and flattered? or is it your -skilful adventurer? In the City does strict honour -make a man's fortune? or are profits bigger in proportion -as a man can wink at things? Anywhere on the large -scale are the virtuous classes the most prosperous? -Are the powers of this world raised up to their lofty -elevation by goodness, or rather in spite of badness? -Is God on the side of goodness? or does He not care? -or is He rather on the side of violence, and wrong, and -wickedness? Now, this point is the real struggle in -the poet's heart, to solve that difficulty of life. I am -going to read it to you, giving you the headings of the -various parts of it, the steps of emotion and of thought -through which his heart has passed.</p> - -<p>He begins, first of all, with the point at which he -ends. This is the right result of that struggle of doubt -and faith within him; he believes that God is on the -side of goodness. But there is a curious little word, -very difficult to reproduce in English, that expresses -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">{180}</a></span> -how the firm conviction that he has of goodness having -God backing it was reached through painful conflict. -"Surely"—yes, after all—"God is good to His people, -good to such as are pure in heart." Then we come to -the history of doubt, the progress of doubt, in the man's -soul. That you have in the first fourteen verses. The -first step of it was his recognition of the fact of prosperous -wickedness. It is a little difficult to divide the -Psalm exactly, and I do not give you the divisions that -I am choosing as certainly the precise, original structure -of the poem, but roughly they bring out the outstanding -thoughts. The first division would be verses 2 to -5—the fact of prosperous wickedness: "But as for me, -my feet were almost gone; my steps had well-nigh -slipped. For I was envious at bad men—at successful -bad men—when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. -For they have no barriers, no entanglements; they are -never tripped up on to the time of their death"—that, -I think, is the real translation—"but their success -remains firm. They are not in trouble like other men; -neither are they plagued like other men."</p> - -<p>That is the first step of doubt. Then comes the -second, the effect upon themselves: "Therefore pride -is like a golden chain round their neck; violence -covers them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with -fatness; they have more than heart could wish. They -scoff, and in wickedness utter oppression, pour forth -oppressive taunt; they speak loftily. They have set -their mouth in the heaven, and their tongue stalketh -through the earth."</p> - -<p>Then there is a third step of doubt, the effect upon -good men: "Therefore God's people are prevented -that way, and the waters of a full cup are drained by -them. They say, How can God know? and is there -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> -knowledge in the Most High? Behold, these are the -wicked; and being always secure, they heap up -wealth."</p> - -<p>Then there is the effect on the poet himself: "Surely -in vain have I cleansed my heart, and washed my -hands in innocency. For all the day long have I been -plagued, and chastened every morning." You see here -the doubt reaching its last full result.</p> - -<p>Then we come to the recoil, the restoration of faith. -That also is set in three steps. The first is the perception -of the fact of retribution. Verse 15: "Had I -made up my mind, I will speak thus; behold, I should -have dealt treacherously with the generation of Thy -children. When I thought how I might know this—how -to read this riddle—it was too hard for me, until -I went into the sanctuary of God, and considered the -last end of them. Surely Thou didst set them in -slippery places; Thou hast hurled them down to destruction. -How are they become a desolation in a -moment! They are utterly consumed with terrors. -As a nightmare when one awaketh, so, O Lord, when -Thou awakest Thou dost despise [flout] the presentment -of them."</p> - -<p>Then there is the next step, the perception of his -own stupidity: "My mind was in a ferment, and I was -pricked in my heart. How brutish I was, and how -ignorant! I was no better than a proud beast before -Thee; and I am continually with Thee, held by Thy -right hand."</p> - -<p>Then there is the last step, the perception of the -immeasurable joy, the intrinsic superiority, of goodness. -"Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is -none upon earth that I desire beside Thee. My flesh -and my heart faileth; but God is the strength of my -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">{182}</a></span> -heart, and my portion for ever. For, lo, they that are -far from Thee shall perish; thou hast destroyed all -them that go straying away from Thee. But it is good -for me to draw near to God: I have made the Lord -my refuge, that I may tell all Thy works."</p> - -<p>Now, for our own help and instruction, let us follow, -step by step, the struggle of that good man's heart. Is -it evident on the face of things that goodness has the -best of it in this world? Now, I am going to say to -you a thing that perhaps many of you will think little -of me for saying, but I cannot help thinking that the -poet exaggerated the actual facts; and I am quite persuaded -that a great many people who think themselves -very wise, and are very wise, at the present day, make far -too much of the external material advantage gained by -dishonesty. I am quite prepared to admit that goodness -often keeps a man back from earthly joy. I am -quite prepared to admit that the prizes of this world go -far too much to men that possess no real right to them. -There are endless social wrongs and individual wrongs. -Things are not rightly adjusted, either in the Church or -in the world, in professions or in business. All that is -true. Nevertheless, I rather think that the amount of -it is exaggerated. I do not think that is the predominant -aspect of life. It is only when a man is morbid, -when existence is pressing too hard on himself, when -he is sharply injured and wronged, that he would take -upon him to say that evil out and out, clearly and -without question, has the best of it. I am talking, of -course, of our society nowadays; but I rather think -that in all states of society it could never have been -the case that wickedness absolutely had the best of it. -I will tell you why: Because this world cannot stand -without a good deal of love and a good deal of faith, a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">{183}</a></span> -good deal of honesty, a good deal of mutual trust. -Why, if business were the utter mass of cheating and -unscrupulosity that some men would have us believe, -you would have an end of all credit, of all business. -There must be some brotherliness; there must be a -certain trustworthiness; there must be a considerable -amount of honesty. It is the very salt of the world; -it maintains it; the world would come to an end -without it. But all the same, I am willing to admit -that that is the superficial aspect of existence, and that -it is a very staggering blow to men's faith, especially -faith that is inherited from one's father, that is not a -man's own; it is a thing to make a young man's heart -bitter; it is a thing to make him hesitate and doubt -whether he ought to hold to the pathway of honour. -It is not, I think, the paramount, the predominant -aspect of life, looked at calmly and dispassionately, quite -apart from religious faith, but certainly it is a very -prominent aspect—prominent because it is superficial. -Well, then, that fact of successful wrong-doing is the -cause of religious doubt, but not by any means a very -dangerous cause.</p> - -<p>We come to the second source of doubt and questioning—an -infinitely more subtle and hazardous one. -It is the perception that successful ill-doers do not seem -to be miserable. You know how we are all taught that -bad men have such terribly evil consciences, that harpies -are always behind them, that their hearts are gnawed -with dread and anxiety, that they cannot sleep at night, -that remorse haunts them. Not a bit of it. You go -into the world and pick out men who have gained their -wealth, who have wrung it out of the heart's blood of -their fellow-men—got it by downright dishonesty; their -eyes stand out with fatness, they roll about in their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">{184}</a></span> -carriages, they have splendid houses, and everybody -bows down to them and makes much of them; their -faces are wreathed with smiles of self-satisfaction; you -sit at their tables, and they tell you how successful they -have been; they expect you to envy them; they are not -humble and miserable. Then the deadly question comes -to you, Where, then, is God? Ah, one can quite -understand God letting the external world run its own -course! One might explain in some way that God -allows, to try men, the prizes of wealth and the joys of -life to go to men that do not deserve them. As a good -man once said to me, "It is plain that God does not -think much of money—why, look at the kind of people -he gives it to!" That is so; but the one thing you -would believe is this, that in that strange inner world -of the human heart, the mind, the conscience God could -not keep still. If He gives them the external gift, if -He sends them the desire of their flesh, He will send -leanness into their soul. Why do you not see their -faces haggard? Why can you not trace the lines of -care? Why does not shame and degradation sit upon -the wealthy man's face who gained his wealth by -cheating and lying, by dishonour and meanness? -Oh, they seem so happy, so contented, so pleased, -so proud, so arrogant! Why does their tongue reach -up to heaven, in its pride, and haughtiness, and complacency? -Well, you would think that that is a deadly -enough doubt to be gnawing at a good lad's heart; -but there is a still deadlier one. Here you have the -deadliest cause of doubt, when a man, pressed hard by -the great fact of prosperous ill-doing, staggered by that -blow, does not see the inner, ethical, moral vengeance -of God stamped on it. He looks round for confirmation -to the good men in the Church; he looks at religious -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">{185}</a></span> -Christian society, he falls back on it, to let it support -him, to let it help him; and what does he discover when -his eyes pierce through and penetrate? In the heart -within him he begins to recognise the hearts of others. -Everywhere the Church is secretly doubting too; good -men are longing for a share in the ill-gotten gain—ay, -tampering with their consciences, themselves turning -into the same direction, drinking of the waters of the -same cup, and then some of them, more reckless or -more honest, speaking straight out: "Yes, I was -brought up, like you, to believe in virtue, in honesty, -in God, and in goodness; but I have seen throughout -that this world is not governed by a good God. If -there is a good God, He does not know or does not -care; He does not step in; it is the wicked that have -the best of it in this world; I am going to take that -course." Ah, the moral perversion, the tainted breath -of the base, selfish, greedy, unscrupulous world! that -detected in the heart of his own father, the good -elder, the church member; that detected in his own -mother, not valuing or choosing for the society of -her home the honourable, the pure, the good, the true, -but the people with money, and tainted reputations, -and all the rest of it; that is the deadliest thing; that -makes the real doubt, the real unbelief; that carries -a lad, not to books of philosophy—he will never take -much harm from them, even if he has head enough to -understand them—but carries him clean away from -religion, into shady company too, and takes the virtue -and morality out of him, making him sell himself for -money in life's sacredest relationships: it is that—the -perversion of good. Oh, how much we Christian men -and women have to answer for when we denounce -sceptics and worldlings, the ungodly young men who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">{186}</a></span> -stop going to church, and all that! Ay, poor souls, -they will have to answer for it! but how much shall -we have to answer for it too? The Church, is it -not tainted by worldliness? Do we go and take the -bravest, the most patient, the most loyal, the most -prayerful, the most devout Sunday-school teacher, a -working man, and put him in the chair of our Sunday-school -assemblies in Exeter Hall? No, no; it is not -pure goodness. I do not know that we can help it, but -it would be worth while trying that system, instead of -the Church, for want of faith, making so very much of -the world, of social position, and of purse power.</p> - -<p>But I have rather wandered from my point. Doubt -has now run its course, completed its curriculum. The -question is often raised, Does it matter what a man -believes? No, not what he believes about the abstract -theories or explanations either of philosophy or theology—it -will not matter much what he thinks about these -abstruse questions; but it matters infinitely and eternally -what he thinks about God, and goodness, and life. Ah, -there a man's heart-faiths make his life-conduct! It -was so with the poet here, when those dark, demon -doubts had filled his soul, when his mind was in a ferment, -when his heart was pricked and bitter within him, -when he heard good men—men that were good once—round -him saying, "Does God know?" and when he -felt himself in a God-forsaken world, where there was -nothing but each man snatching the best he could -get, where everything was given over to wickedness -and evil. Ah, then, such a man does not stop at -theoretical atheism and scepticism! he goes farther. -"Surely in vain have I kept my hands clean; I have -been a fool to deny myself forbidden joys and pleasures; -I have been punished, I have been injured; those that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">{187}</a></span> -were unscrupulous, and impure, and dishonest have had -the best of it; I have done with being a fool; I am -going to have my share too." Now doubt has reached -its most dangerous point; it is going to hurry into -forbidden action.</p> - -<p>It was at this moment that the recoil came. I will -tell you how. If a man has got any heart at all, he -can go any length in his own head with his doubts -and questions about whether there is a God or a heaven, -or whether it is worth while trying to be holy, and -pure, and honest; but if he has any heart at all, the -moment that he says, "I am going to be pure no -longer, but I am going to be foul," then there is something -in him that draws him back. He sees himself, -or rather he feels, that he is not doing harm to any one -with those doubts that are in his own intellect, but the -moment he says, "I am going out into the world, in -the train, in the town, in the warehouse, and I am -going to tell it, right and left, that I count it an old -wife's fable that there is a God and heaven, that I -count the man an idiot who denies himself any fleshly -joy that he can get without coming within the grasp -of the law"—I say, if he has any heart at all, he -suddenly thinks to himself, "If I say that to my younger -brother, if I say that to that innocent maiden, I shall -be doing a cruel wrong to the generation of God's -people." Oh, there is an eternal, immovable fact! -Doubt may have all logic on its side, but doubt and -the denial of God and of virtue are the world's damnation. -It may be an advantage to a man to cheat and -steal, but it cannot be an advantage to his neighbours. -Take the worst man in the City, and ask him if he -would wish that all goodness, all virtue, all religion -should be so crushed out that every man should become -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">{188}</a></span> -a thief, a robber, a burglar. No; he does not want that. -Even in the case of an infidel, if he be a man of fine -conscience and fine heart—I have known such—not for -his life would he tell his doubts to a child, not for his -life would he say a word to stop that mother teaching -her boy to pray. I have known such men who told me -that they were thankful that the mother of their children -kept on doing it. Yes, that Psalm is far away from -our theoretical theologies or intellectual apologies and -the rest of it. See how intensely human it is—that -recognition that doubt held within the intellect is not -very harmful, but let it go out into the world, and it -will do unspeakable mischief; it is that that gives the -doubter check. Ay, and there is reason in it, rationality. -When a man recognises that fact he has got -to go farther. If doubt manifestly would harm the -world, if the denial of God, and goodness, and the -earth's moral government would damage human society, -then there must be something wrong in the reasoning -that leads up to that denial. The facts cannot be as -I have fancied, or else my inferences are wrong; for -never, never can it be evil to know the truth. Therefore -that denial of mine that there is a good God, or -that if there be a God He governs this world by -goodness, must be false. Now all things appear to -the man in a new light. Why? Because he has got -up to a great elevation. Suddenly it darts upon him, -"Before, I was looking at this world out of my little -self; I judged everything by its effect upon my own -personality, my own life. I was suffering, and therefore -all things must be wrong." What a poor little -aspect that is! Now he has risen up to a point where -he stands as God stands; he looks at the big world -out of himself, and he sees that the doubt, the denial, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">{189}</a></span> -would destroy all that is best in the world. And he -looks farther; he has reached to God's sanctuary. -Now his eyes travel over wider reaches of human -story. Before he was like a man down in a valley -where there is a winding river, and just where he stood -the river seemed to flow in one direction, and he went -away and proclaimed to men that the river ran north. -Now he has travelled away up the mountain, and he -is able to look over the whole extent, and he sees that -there was a winding and twisting in the stream, but -observes that its great ultimate course is to the southern -seas. The man stands up above this world of ours, -he looks over the great spread of its course and history, -and what is the absolute conclusion? That everywhere -in the end immorality has death in it; that violence, -wickedness, selfishness ruin themselves; that oppressive -dynasties have fallen, and corrupt peoples have -been struck down; that sin everywhere has God's -vengeance set in it, and ends in death. Everywhere -in the end virtue does triumph and survive, goodness -proves superior. That is a fact which the evolutionist -tells us. This world seeks and reaches the moral, the -good, the true, the noble in intellect, heart, and soul. -It was made, the religious man says, by a good God, -and it is making for goodness. Yes; but there comes -another revelation. For the good man says to himself, -"Now, how came it that I could not see that before?" -and suddenly an overwhelming shame falls upon him. -"How could I not see that before? Oh, because I -was such a little soul, because I lived in such a -despicable, little world! I failed to see the truth -because I was as base as those bad men. What makes -them forsake God and goodness? Because they count -earthly gain the supreme thing. Why was I so bitter -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">{190}</a></span> -against their getting the earthly gain? Because I -counted it the supreme thing. I, a man made in God's -image, a man held by God's hand, a man whose will -was being overshadowed, and led, and guided by God's -Spirit, through all was so ignorant and so brutish that -I thought God's best gift that He had to give to His -children was money, or fleshly pleasure, or earthly -adulation. I was no better than a brute beast. To -the brute beast God can give nothing more than meat, -and drink, and fleshly sensual delight; but that a man -held in God's hand, loved by God, should have great -joy about these things! Ah, my doubt grew not out -of the world's enigmas alone! it grew out of my own -low morals." Now he stands in a new position. He -sees as God sees, and he says to himself, "Ah, let -this world grow as ill as it may; even if it were the -case that money, power, social ambition, earthly rewards -did go predominantly to wickedness, what then? Here -am I, a man loving honour, truth, justice, mercy, purity, -God; shall I hesitate for one moment if I must lose all -the world? Can I hesitate for one moment? No; -goodness alone, with no earthly reward, is heaven, -and far more precious than all worldly gain." Why? -Because goodness has in it the very breath of God, -the throb of His Spirit, the echo of His heart. The -good man has God in him, loving him, continually -with him, he continually with God; and this world lies -beneath him, and death beneath his feet. Ah, the -best this world can give trembles before death and the -grave, and breaks and is gone! but in goodness the -human heart clasps God, and doubt is at an end.</p> - -<p>Oh, how much our world to-day wants that supreme -daring faith in goodness just for itself, and that close -fellowship with God, that defies all questionings, all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">{191}</a></span> -doubts, that would stand if all the evidences about our -Gospels and Epistles were swept away, still sure that -God is up there, that God loves men, and that God -draws them to Himself to make them holy, as their -Father in heaven is holy!</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">{192}</a></div> - -<h2>IX.<br /> -<i>THE STORY OF QUEEN ESTHER.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">Esther</span> iv. 13-17.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE subject to which I invite your attention -to-night is the Story of Queen Esther. The -kernel of it has been read to you in the fourth chapter. -I shall read the closing verses, so as to give you the -key-note to the meaning of the narrative. After Esther -had refused to go and plead for the Hebrews with -the King of Persia, "Mordecai commanded to answer -Esther, Think not with thyself that thou shalt escape -in the king's house, more than all the Jews. For if -thou altogether holdest thy peace at this time, then -shall there enlargement and deliverance arise to the -Jews from another place; but thou and thy father's -house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth whether -thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this? -Then Esther bade them return Mordecai this answer, -Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in -Shushan, and fast ye for me, and neither eat nor drink -three days, night or day: I also and my maidens -will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the king, -which is not according to the law: and if I perish, I -perish. So Mordecai went his way, and did according -to all that Esther had commanded him."</p> - -<p>It is a very difficult task to calculate how much -religion there is in the world—true religion, that God -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> -accepts. Elijah once tried to calculate, and concluded -there was nobody true to God but himself; blind to -the seven thousand that had not bowed the knee to -Baal. It is quite possible to take superficial, indulgent, -optimistic views of the progress made by mankind, but -God knows there are as deadly and wicked and more -blasphemous errors committed by good men, who talk -of this world as if it were given over to the devil to -reign and rule in it, as if things were growing worse -and worse, as if the number of men and women whose -hearts are God's were few. I think the blunder comes -from looking for goodness often in the wrong place, -from a mistaken idea of what true religion is. It won't -do to reckon up our church members; they are not -all genuine. It won't do to count our acts of worship, -our prayer-meetings, our praises. These are often -mere sound, breath, empty air. If you want to know -how much of Christ there is in this world, you must -go outside the churches, into the workshops, into the -homes of the people. Ay, you must go to lands where -Christ's name is not often heard, and you have got to -listen with a sympathetic ear, and whenever you hear -the accents of Christ's human voice ringing out in any -way of genuine love and tenderness, whenever you see -duty done patiently, and loyally, and uncomplainingly, -whenever you see a heart or a soul follow the light, -however dim and glimmering, understand that there -you are touching Christ, and stand on a bit of the -kingdom of heaven. The eleventh chapter of Hebrews -is the golden roll of the Old Testament heroes, men -of God, stamped by God Himself as genuine; and -the deeds recited, too, as having been done by them, -that gave them their degree and title as heroes, -and nobles, and princes in heaven's kingdom, are not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">{194}</a></span> -the preaching of sermons, or the writing of books of -theology, or the fighting about petty little trivialities -of doctrinal explanation, or the performance of rites -and ceremonies and acts of worship, but brave deeds -of battle, noble, dauntless generalship, heroism, and -courage, and self-sacrifice, loyalty to the cause of truth -and righteousness in this world. These are the deeds -that were done, following the guidance of God, under -the inspiration of Heaven, and the men who did them -are recited in one long unbroken chain, and linked on -in line direct with Jesus Christ, whose death and -redemption are presented as the crown and consummation -of that long series of priests, and kings, and -prophets, and warriors, and heroes, true-hearted men -and women who lived for God and fought for God in -the olden time. It is sometimes said that Christ was -not present in the Old Testament times. True, the -human Jesus of Nazareth was not there, but oh, the -spirit of Him was! He was the very heart-beat, -and pulse, and inspiration of all that long, continuous -struggle to bring heaven down into earth, for that is -what the Old Testament story presents to us. In -every brave deed, in every true word, in every pure -and righteous life, it was not the heart of man that -glowed, but the very spirit of Christ—Christ coming -to full birth and maturity in this world's story.</p> - -<p>Some people are puzzled to discover how the Book -of Esther comes to be in the Old Testament. It is -said to be a romance of history. It contains no religious -teaching. The name of God is not once mentioned -in it, from the first verse to the last. How comes it in -the Bible?</p> - -<p>Now, it is quite true that there is no direct dogmatic -teaching of religious truth. It is absolutely true that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">{195}</a></span> -the name of God is not to be found in its pages. But -what of that? what of that, if the book is one of -the most powerful presentations of God's providence -working among men, if the book itself has for its -very soul and idea the conception of God overruling -events in a marvellous fashion to preserve His kingdom -on earth? Is the great thing to get the name of God, -spelt with its three letters, or to be shown God? Ah! -it is the same kind of blunder that causes us to make -so much of mere forms of words in the Church, instead -of looking to see if the Spirit of God animates the man -and woman and the preacher who inhabit the professed -house of God on earth. There may be no teaching -of religion, no prophesying of Jesus, no foreshadowing -of the evangelical truths of redemption in the Book of -Esther; but what it does paint for you is a majestic -picture of a human heart struggling against its own -weakness, rising to a grandeur that had in it the glory -of Christ's own self-sacrifice. The name is not there, -the phrase is not there; but the core, and kernel, and -heart of Christ's love, and faith, and redemption of men -are pulsing and beating in the book.</p> - -<p>It is a puzzling book. There is a great deal in it -that is revolting. The background on which Esther's -deed of heroism was done is ugly and repulsive. She -lived in a social state that was degraded and base, -containing in it customs and habits that almost sicken -us who, through Christ's mercy, have been lifted into -comparative purity and sweetness.</p> - -<p>You remember the story. A dissolute Persian -monarch, in a drunken frolic, requires of his queen to -do a deed that ran against all that was womanly within -her, and she refused. Mercilessly he deposes her from -the throne, and he sets to to select another queen. The -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">{196}</a></span> -fair maidens of the land are collected, and in a very -disgusting fashion presented to the tyrant, and from -among them he chooses the beautiful young Jewess -Esther, and makes her his queen. One cannot but -pity her for having lived in such a time, for having -had to play a part on such a stage of the world's story. -One may even fairly ask the question, if it had not -been nobler if she had not been presented by her -guardian in such a revolting competition? But it is -no good for us finding fault with the actual course of -the world's story. If God was not too fine to lead -men in all the bygone days—polygamy and such like -practices were tolerated in the Old Testament time, -because of the lowness of men's hearts, as Christ -explains to us—it is a mistake in you and me being -too fine to recognise God where God was numbering -Himself among transgressors, that He might lift mankind -to His own level. And then the narrative proceeds; -presents to us a succession of cruel, unscrupulous -intrigues, mainly between Esther's guardian, Mordecai, -(a Jew whom one cannot admire and love, taking the -picture of him drawn in this book) and the king's -favourite courtier, Haman. In the course of the rivalry -between the two, the very existence of God's people -throughout the Persian empire is imperilled. Partly -through Haman's scheming, but also through dauntless -devotion to what they believed to be the cause of God, -and which was the cause of God, in spite of the earthliness -and imperfections attaching to its soldiers and -defenders, partly by evil fixed to them, partly through -nobility and goodness, a drama is presented to us, a -struggle of heroism and bravery, and in the centre of -it is that young queen doing a deed that we cannot -but call Christlike.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">{197}</a></div> - -<p>Now, I want to say this to you: Men's lights in the -world are very diverse. The possibilities of goodness -and attainment for one man are far greater and far -higher than for another. Some of you may be so -entangled with evil customs and habits of commercial -or of social life that you feel your very position there -is impossible to make quite consistent with the full -requirements of Jesus Christ. Thus things are. It -is no good blinking them. And what are you to do? -To despair, to give up any attempt to be good, and -pure, and noble? Never! never! Look at all that -Old Testament story—men far behind in their notions -of common morality, yet on that low, degraded background -discerning always a higher that may be done, -a lower that may be avoided. No matter where you -may stand, no matter how difficult the achievements -may be, the one great question is, not what is the -framework, but what is the painting you put in it. -Are you living for self? or are you living for God? -living to your own self-will, or striving to do your -duty as far as you can do it?</p> - -<p>From a very lowly lot Esther rose to be the first -lady in the land, and I suppose all her sister Jewesses -envied her, and thought that there was nothing that -was not happy, and prosperous, and pleasant in her -position. Yes, it was a position of great advantage, -of great pomp, flattering to her pride—rich raiment, -jewellery, the adulation of fawning courtiers, the admiration -of the great monarch of the mightiest kingdom -in the world, promoted to the throne as queen, wielding -power over the destinies of man. Ah! it was a very -enviable, happy lot, and yet not altogether so very -enviable. I will tell you why—a thing that we apparently -forget. When we all of us enter into our estates, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">{198}</a></span> -when we come of age, nearly all good fortune in this -world is heavily mortgaged. It is encumbered estates -that we come heir to; and without disloyalty, without -being renegades and dishonourable, we cannot cast off -these encumbrances. The present has always got to -pay the purchase price to the past. You must not -kick away the ladder by which you rose to fortune. -Ah! and sometimes into the bright sunshiny present -the past comes with a very long bill to pay—comes -with a very stern face and a demanding hand, and bids -you, perhaps, risk all that is making your heart so -warm, and so proud, and so gay.</p> - -<p>That was the case with Esther. She was a Jewess. -She owed her birth and her breeding to that despised, -exiled people. She had won her proud position on the -emperor's throne through the planning, and toiling, and -sacrifice of her Jewish guardian. And now her people's -destiny hangs on the balance. A deadly conspiracy -against them has brought it about that on a given day, -rapidly approaching, there is to be a universal merciless -massacre of these defenceless Jews. And through the -mouth of her old revered guardian the demand comes -to her—the one human being that might have influence -with the cruel king to cancel the decree and save the -lives of men, women, and children—at the risk and -peril of her own life in asking it, to go and intercede -for them.</p> - -<p>Hard! oh, how hard! Don't you judge harshly the -poor queen when she shrank away from it and could -not face the stern summons. Think of it, the young -flesh, the soft heart—a woman's heart—within her, and -think of the cruel death by torture that was wont to be -inflicted upon any one that, unbidden, dared to force his -way into the king's presence; coming, too, in the bright -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">{199}</a></span> -noonday of all her good fortune. It would have been -easier to risk life when she was an unknown Jewish -maiden; but oh, in this good luck, this fortune, this -love, this adulation, this admiration, with her right fair -beauty all upon her, to take it all and go and confront -grim death! it seemed too much to ask. And so Esther -began arguing within herself: Was she bound to hazard -her life for these Jews? After all, what had they done -for her? They were her race, her kindred, but what -of that? Had she not come out from among them? -Has not destiny taken her lot and separated it from -theirs? Why cannot she live her own life apart from -them? Why should she come down from the throne -and take her stand among them, exposed to cruel -massacre and death? What is the obligation? Where -are the ties that bound her lot to theirs? Ay, where -were the ties of love and the obligations to generosity? -They are too fine and impalpable to be proved by -argument. The moment you begin discussing them -or questioning them—ties that bind brother to brother, -sister to sister, child to parent—they vanish like life -dissected for. You destroy them. They have to be -felt, not proved, but are more real, more solemn, more -important in determining a man's destinies than all the -legal bonds and moral obligations that bind him in -society.</p> - -<p>But then, again, the queen would ask herself, What -would be the good of her running such a risk? Is it -reasonable that she, a single weak woman, unskilled in -the ways of courts and of cunning courtiers; that she -should be asked to plunge into a whirlpool of race-hatreds -and furious feuds between unscrupulous nobles -and potentates about the court; that she should confront -the reckless rage of the royal tyrant—she, so defenceless, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">{200}</a></span> -so impotent, so frail? Ah, yes! once again the argument -was good to shirk the path of heroism; but once -again, what business had she to argue? When duty -comes to you it is not a thing to reason about. You -have got to just go and do it.</p> - -<p>Mother, when your little one was struck down with -the deadliest and most infectious ailment, did you -reason for one moment whether you could be expected -to risk your life, whether you were not too delicate to -make it worth while doing it, whether you would not -be throwing away your existence? If any man came -and suggested that to you,—"No!" Love, duty, they -do not argue, they command.</p> - -<p>The fact of the matter was, the queen was standing -in a false position. She could not see the truth, she -could not see the right, where she stood. I hope I -have been able to show you how very plausible, how -very weighty, the grounds were on which she made her -refusal to risk her life. But have not you yourselves felt -something about a home atmosphere in which such -reasoning moved that is contemptible and despicable? -Have not you recognised its infinite pettiness and -littleness? Oh, what a narrow, contracted, selfish world -that woman's heart is living in! It has been all a question -about Esther—Esther's life, Esther's risks, Esther's -obligations, as if that were the whole. Why not break -down those prison walls of littleness? Look at those -thousands of Jews—fathers, mothers, young maidens, -brave lads, little children with their bright eyes, and -with terrible death impending over them. How is -Esther so forgetful of them, with their white faces -and their anxious eyes, and of God's purposes in this -world? Ah, no man can ever choose the path of -right, of heroism, of goodness, of duty, till he sees -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">{201}</a></span> -and feels himself in God's big world, and with God -above him up in heaven!</p> - -<p>Mordecai recognised the root of the queen's cowardice, -and swiftly and sternly he sent back a reply -that shattered those barriers of her selfishness, and -lifted her out of her little self-centred world, and set -her on the pinnacle whence the whole line and way -of duty shone out unmistakably. "Go back," said he—"go -back and tell the queen to be ashamed of her -despicable selfishness. Does she imagine that she -lives separate and unconnected in this world of God's, -so that she can save her own life by sacrificing, -cowardly, the lives of her kinsmen? Go, tell the -queen that she does not live in a will-less, random -world, where she may pick and choose the best things -for herself. Go, tell her that confronting her, sweeping -round her, seizing her in its currents, the great will of -God is moving on down through the centuries. If she -will not save God's people, then God will find another -deliverer, and she herself shall be dashed aside. Go, -tell the queen she may refuse the task, but the deed -shall be done. God's purpose in His chosen people -shall not be baulked. Deliverance will come to the -Jews, but she, poor blind queen, may have missed a -noble vocation. Go, bid the queen look at the strange -providence that picked her out among her people, that -placed her on the throne, that set her by the side of -the despot in whose hands the fate of her people is -held, and then bid her ask whether she thinks God -did that deed out of partial, indulgent favour of her -petty self, or whether it is not clear as noontide that -just for this hour of peril, and of danger, and of death, -to be the redeemer and the saviour of the Jews, God -gave her that dignity and set her on the throne."</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">{202}</a></div> - -<p>Ah, what a new world we are in now! what a new -light floods everything! The queen felt it. All that -was noble, all that was good in her waked and gained -the upper hand, and crushed down her baseness, and -her meanness, and her selfishness. And yet heroism -had a struggle with the weakness of the flesh. That -is nothing strange. Remember Christ in Gethsemane: -"Oh, watch with Me, with your human sympathy and -fellowship, in My dire hour of need!" It was a cry -like that that made Esther send back that message to -Mordecai. She wanted to feel the binding force of the -ties of common human brotherhood that connected her -with her people to make her strong. She saw how it -was. Away from them, and living alone, proudly, selfishly, -her heart had got hard, and she could not go -out among them; but it would mean a deal for her -during those days if she knew that in every Jewish -home men and women, young men and maidens, and -little children, from morning till night, were fasting, and -by the pain and abstinence of fasting kept thinking, from -morning till night, of the deadly danger hanging over -them, and Esther steeling herself to risk her life for love -of them. Oh, wrapped round with that sense of human -sympathy, nerved and braved by the thought of all these -human lives hanging on her heroism, the weak woman -conquered, and she could go and do the deed of valour!</p> - -<p>But one thing more: the other element, the sense -of her own weakness, her own impotence—for that she -needed to fall back on God. Ah, if it were the case -simply of a nation pleading with her to intercede on -their behalf, she could not have done that all alone! -But when she herself, through those two days, lived -face to face with God, till this world was filled with His -presence, till all the old stories of the generous rescues -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">{203}</a></span> -of bygone days were blazing resplendent before her -eyes, guaranteeing that it was a call of God, that God -would be behind her and with her and that His -strength would be sufficient for her weakness—so -backed with intimate love and sympathy with her -fellow-men, and a strong faith in God, she could go -and do her duty. Look at this striking contrast. -Read that first refusal of hers—selfish, self-centred, -cowardly, prudent. I think you feel all through it a -restlessness, a dissatisfaction, a vacillation, a nervous -excitement, a sense of uneasiness, a hidden doubt -whether in saving her life she may not be losing it. -Read that reply now, when she pledges herself to go -and dare the king's deadly rage. How grand, and -majestic, and calm it rings out! solemn, earnest, like -the voice of a brave veteran going on a forlorn hope, -but with the tranquillity, the serene certainty, of a -brave heart doing what it knows to be duty. Ah, the -man that goes through this world regardless of right or -wrong, not asking what is duty, taking and choosing -what shall be for his own advantage, trimming, and -chopping, and setting his sails to catch every breeze of -dishonourable prosperity, the restless heart that made -response hanging upon himself, every step his own, if -wrong then the upbraiding and the remorse all will be -his. Oh, the sweetness, the grandeur, the calmness of -the man who has asked simply, in any circumstances -of danger and difficulty, "What is right? what is -duty? what is the will of God? what alone can -and ought to be done?" and then does it, ay, with -death hanging over. He can sleep tranquilly. He is -not responsible for the issue, no matter what it be. -Here on earth he has done the right, done his duty, -and the responsibility rests on God.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">{204}</a></span> -Esther, by that deed of heroism, delivered God's -people from destruction. In her measure she did the -same thing that Christ did perfectly later. Like Him, -too, she laid her own life down on the altar. That it -was not sacrificed does not diminish the value of the -offering. A man does not need to perish in saving -another from drowning, if he plunge into the wild, -stormy sea, to deserve an admiration as great as if he -had perished in the task.</p> - -<p>She did a deed of Christ. That deed roused the -admiration of her day and generation. That deed of -hers was told with kindling eyes and ringing voice, -and pride and triumph, from father to child, generation -after generation. That deed of hers stood out as a -pledge, a guarantee, of the reality of God's purpose for -His kingdom on earth. By her deed, in her own day -and generation, she saved God's people from imminent -destruction; by that deed, preserved in history, she -lifted up and made strong the hope and faith of generations -after. And so, rightfully, her story finds its -place in that long record of the hearts, noble, and brave, -and true, who, for love of men and faith in God, at the -bidding of Heaven, loved not their own lives to death, -but laid them down for their brethren.</p> - -<p>Oh, we men and women have got to learn this lesson -from this Bible of ours—the real service of God, that -is real religion, and that does build God's kingdom on -earth, is done not altogether, by a long way, in our -churches, in our religious exercises of worship; but -done in purity, love, and truth, and goodness, out of -generous kindliness to one another, at the bidding of -God, through all the common chapters that make up -our daily life.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">{205}</a></div> - -<h2>X.<br /> -<i>THE EXAMPLE OF THE PROPHETS.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of -the Lord, for an example."—<span class="smc">James</span> v. 10.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">WE possess the books produced in olden times by -a number of different nations. Each national -literature has its own peculiarities. The literature of -Israel has various features that are very characteristic -of it. Among them all, one stands out and is unique. -All along the nation had a conviction that they were -destined to be the greatest nation in the world, and -they believed that this destiny of theirs lay in the fact -that through their government the world was to be -made good, righteous, holy, and happy. They believed -that God had a large plan, embracing the whole world -in its operations; they believed that God was using all -the different races as tools to work out that design of -His; but they held that infinitely beyond all lesser -instruments, He had made up His mind to employ -Israel in accomplishing that great purpose of His high -heart; through Israel He was to make the whole world -into one Divine kingdom, ruled by Himself, and reverencing -Himself as the one only God and Lord.</p> - -<p>The mass of the people constantly forgot that sense -of a lofty destiny; they constantly tired of that great -ideal; they chose to prefer present gain and advantage; -they disregarded that predicted end of their history in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> -determining their contemporary policy in relation to -other nations; they were dumb, and blind, and deaf to -that feeling of God's movement in history and His purpose -for the future. Nevertheless, in every age down -through that nation's story there existed in their midst -men who were possessed by a supreme conviction of -this presence, and power, and purpose of God, men -who sacrificed bread, profession, home, happiness, and -life itself, that they might seek to carry out that intention -and desire of God. In every age they declared -what God wanted Israel to be and to do. In every -age they recommended a policy founded on that destiny -of Israel and that design of God. The darker the -national history grew, the more decided was their -certainty of the fulfilment of God's purpose. But this -singular change took place in the form in which they -conceived that fulfilment: In the earlier times Israel—the -whole nation—was to be the minister of God's -intention; but as age after age exhibited the depravity, -the unholiness, and the jealousy of the nation, the -thought of the coming kingdom of promise, and of -gladness and goodness, concentrated itself not so much -about the people, but about the King. More and more, -it was not the chosen <i>people</i> of Israel, but it was the -chosen <i>Son</i> of Israel, the chosen Heir of David, the -coming Deliverer, the King, that was to bring it in. -It is a strange spectacle to behold how God, by His -external dealings with the people of Israel, and by the -development of their conduct, led His servants the -prophets to see that if ever this grand purpose of God -for mankind was to be accomplished, it could not be -done by the whole people, or any number of them, but -must be done by one single individual, who should -combine in his character all the goodness, and all the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">{207}</a></span> -truth, and all the knowledge, and all the power of God -that were necessary to make a kingdom of God on -earth. So it came to pass that inside the progress of -Israel's history, as a wall down the long march of that -history, there was a line of men first of all foreseeing a -grand future, mainly connected with Israel in the government -of the nation, and gradually defining more brightly -the covenant, and the establishment, and the maintenance -of that kingdom as contained in the person, in -the character, in the work, in the heart, in the sufferings, -in the triumph of a great coming Messenger of -God, a Man of God, a Son of God, yet so stamped with -Divinity that He gets names which set Him on a level -with God. It is the long procession of prophets, the -line of foreseers, who, in succession to the patriarchs, -touch, ages in advance, the coming of Christ, and make -the world expect it, and preserve faith in mankind till -Christ does come.</p> - -<p>The history of these men within their own nation is -striking. As a rule, they stood in a small minority, -were despised and disbelieved, had to maintain the -truth of their Divine conviction in the face of almost -universal denial, were ill-treated and persecuted, were -declared to be impostors or traitors to the national -cause, were cast out, and an immense number of them -were killed. But as time rolled on the development of -events proved that those men had seen the calamities -and vengeances of God which had been foretold as -about to fall on Israel, because of Israel's sin. The -people were cast out of their own native land; they -were driven into captivity, and in captivity they remembered -what the prophets had spoken; and then, with -humble hearts and penitent spirits, they said to themselves -"Those men were right; they spoke true; they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">{208}</a></span> -anticipated what has come to pass; God was with -them; they were His messengers; we were in the -wrong; it was a true word from heaven that they -uttered amongst us;" and so the old contempt and -disbelief vanished away, and there came a reverence -and a faith for those prophets that almost reached -the verge of superstition; they gathered together their -writings; they treasured them, and made the books of -those prophets into their Bible. It is in that fashion -that our own Old Testament of the prophets was -formed. The prophets were first rejected, derided, put to -death, and, then with repentance and humility, accepted -as the true messengers of God, taken as authoritative -interpreters of God's mind and will; their writings -were treasured and preserved, and made into the national -Bible.</p> - -<p>It is these prophets that the Apostle James bids us -take as an example. He means that every Christian -man and every Christian woman is, in a measure, to be -a prophet; He means especially that every Christian -man and every Christian woman in the battle of life -stands in some measure between God and others, and -is to be a prophet. He means further that every father -is to do for his children what those prophets did for -Israel—he is to make them know God. He means -that every mother is to be the very channel of making -her children come into contact with God's character, -and comprehend God's intentions for them. He means -especially that every Sunday-school teacher is to be -just what those old prophets were in Israel—to make -others who are more ignorant than he is sensible of -the presence, and purpose, and progression of God's -designs through life in his own present age and time. -He means that every preacher, and every teacher, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">{209}</a></span> -every man who speaks about religion is, in his conduct -and character, and what he teaches and what he -preaches, to be a prophet. And above all, he means -that one and all of us of this age shall, even down to -the humblest Christian, who hardly has any influence, -act as a mediator or interpreter between other men and -God, as did many of the prophets, with an unswerving -belief of the truth, and with a patience and perseverance -of spirit in every unenlightened time, and amidst the -most adverse circumstances, founded upon the certainty -of the fulfilment of God's promise that Christ should -come, and shall come again.</p> - -<p>Now I want to say a few things to you about the -character and the office of those prophets in the world, -that we may see some respects in which we may and -certainly ought to imitate them. What was a prophet? -I imagine that many of us are content with a very -superficial notion of the part played in actual life by -those men. I imagine, because of the class of books -that has been written in great profusion in our present -century, and is still written, that we are apt to think of -a prophet simply and only as a man who predicted -things that were going to happen—incidents and events -that were to fall out in the unfolding of history. The -prophets did a vast deal more than that, and the very -essence, and life, and grandeur of their character and -conduct appear only in a small fragment in that portion -of their office. Their real movement and meaning are -in quite another department.</p> - -<p>If we wish to know what a prophet is, we may, first -of all, take the names given to the prophets in the -Bible. Then, again, we may remember who were the -prophets. And then we may take their writings, the -records of their deeds, the history that tells of their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">{210}</a></span> -fortunes. What are the names given to a prophet -in the Old Testament? The first and holiest is "a -man of God"—"the man of God." All that that tells -us is that in a peculiar sense the prophet belonged to -God. The next name is "the servant of God." That -tells us that he belonged to God in the sense of serving -God, doing things for God. Then he is called "the -ambassador, or the messenger, of God." That tells you -that he served God by bringing messages from God. -Then he is called an interpreter. That tells you that it -was to men he took God's message, and that he had to -make it understood by them. The next thing that we -come to is a "seer," connected with the word "watchman," -a spier or seer. It means one who saw what -other men could not see, who saw into God's mind, -who saw God, who saw what God was about. It tells -us how he got to know his message, how he learnt it; -it was by insight, seeing into the hidden, underlying -purposes of God. Then the last name of all is what -we translate "prophet," and it literally means a man -who bubbles up and runs over, whose heart gushes -out, in the sense of being poured into, that what is -poured in comes out of him. It tells us that he -pours out what he has learnt, to other men; and it -adds this shade of meaning (the very form of the -Hebrew word does so), that he is, as it were, spoken -through; it does not end with himself, nor does it take -its rise with himself, but it comes into him like a flood, -and it overflows; he cannot help himself; he is possessed, -he is pressed; he is compelled to utter what -his God tells him.</p> - -<p>The names of a prophet, therefore, tell us this; this -is his function; he, beyond other men, has to do with -God, belongs to God; he belongs to God in being -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">{211}</a></span> -God's servant; he is God's servant in being God's -messenger; he is God's messenger in bringing things to -men that God wants men to know; he learns what he -has to tell men by seeing it himself, by knowing it, -understanding it, feeling it, and then he utters it by a -resistless compulsion and impulse, the fire burning in -his heart, a pressure being put on him to tell what God -has taught him. Already you have got the thought of -a man with a grandeur, a greatness, a significance, and -a meaning immensely above what you think of when -you think of a man who can tell you where an axe -which has been lost is to be found, or whether a sick -person will die or live, or whether a town is going -to be destroyed or not. What you have is a living, -breathing, warming channel of communication between -the great God in heaven and the human hearts of men -on earth.</p> - -<p>Then, who were the prophets? Moses was a prophet, -the greatest of all the Old Testament prophets. -He was a prophet because of his whole life work, not -because once or twice he predicted a thing which was -going to happen. Because he was Moses, the moulder -and the maker of Israel, and the giver to them of all -their knowledge about God which is contained in God's -law, therefore Moses was a prophet. Samuel was a -prophet; Saul the king was a prophet for one night, -when he lay on the ground in an ecstasy, and uttered -strange sayings. There were all kinds of prophets; I -cannot deal with them all. Isaiah was a prophet; -Daniel was a prophet supremely. Christ was <i>the</i> Prophet, -and the complete Prophet. How? Because He -foretold the doom of Jerusalem? Because He foretold -His own death? Undoubtedly because He did those -things; but that was not why He was called the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">{212}</a></span> -Prophet. Why was it? A very excellent book, the -Shorter Catechism, puts it better than I can: "Jesus -Christ is a Prophet in making known to us the mind -and will of God for our salvation."</p> - -<p>I put this deliberately and very strongly, almost -unduly depreciating the idea of foretelling future events, -just because I know from my own experience, and certainly -from the experience of others, that one thinks -that the latter is the whole meaning of the word. It is -startling and intensely interesting when you can pick -out a prediction which was uttered ages before, and -which was afterwards fulfilled. By all means take -that; but never forget that, just like Christ's miracles, -it was, as it were, only the accompaniment of the prophet's -main work as a prophet, and that the real work -of a prophet is making known unto us the whole character, -and heart, and mind, and will of God, as these are -revealed in working out the world's salvation.</p> - -<p>If you turn to the writings of the prophets in the -Old Testament you instantly discover that that is the -true idea of a prophet. Take Isaiah, take Micah, take -Jeremiah, take any prophet you please; every here -and there you come upon a prediction—"Babylon -shall be destroyed;" "Nineveh shall be destroyed." -Yes, but it is one prediction, as an impassioned declaration -of God's ways to men, showing how He must punish -their wickedness, and must visit the impenitent. But -the story of God's character and dealings for the world's -redemption is, after all, the grand substance of Old -Testament prophecy; it is a record of God's pity for -mankind, and His determination to make them holy and -happy, and of the fact that it is all to be done by the -great coming Christ, the world's Sacrifice and the world's -Saviour.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">{213}</a></div> - -<p>And when you are told to take the prophets as your -example do not go away saying, "I cannot predict -future events, and astonish people, and make them -feel that I have some supernatural power." No, they -could not be <i>that</i> example to you. A prophet was -a man who knew the character of the true and living -God; and because he knew and loved Him, and was -living with Him, he made other men know Him, and -feel Him, and understand Him too.</p> - -<p>I have no time to enter into all the questions concerning -the precise manner in which the prophet got to -know God's mind and will—by dream, in ecstasy, in -lofty rapt thought, in wonderful insight into the Spirit -of God, and sometimes by a vision like that of Isaiah, -where he "saw the Lord, high and lifted up," on His -throne. Or, the prophet got to know God in a similar -way to that which we read of in the case of the child -Samuel, when the voice of God in the lonely Temple -struck upon the child's ear so that there was nothing -startling, and he thought it was his master's voice -calling him; but he lived to see the terrible fulfilment -of the first teaching which God gave to the child, in -that which befell the master. I have no time to go -into all that, nor to enter largely into the place and -purpose of the prophets in working out that history -which shows, when properly understood, nothing else -but the growth of the Spirit of Jesus Christ through -the ages, till that Spirit came in its completion in Jesus -the Son of Mary; for <i>there</i> is the whole meaning of -the prophets in Israel; they were an incarnation of -the very same heart, and mind, and will of the Divine -dispensation and of God for the world's redemption -which were in Jesus; it was the Spirit of Jesus. And -do not put away the words as a mere figure unless -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">{214}</a></span> -you put away the words as a mere figure when you -read that Jesus was the incarnate Son of God. It was -the very Spirit of God. The same Spirit as was consummate -in Jesus, the perfect Prophet because the -perfect Revelation of God, in its measure was present -in every prophet who made the people believe God -as they had never done before, and recognise His -presence in the history of their time. The prophets -taught them to repent of their sin, to live for God, to -take their share in the great conflicts for righteousness -that God was fighting in their age. In a measure the -Spirit of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour of -the world, was present in every age of it. There is -scarcely any occurrence, any story, any Psalm, in the -prophecies of the Old Testament, which has not an -application to Jesus Christ, and a meaning showing -that He is in it. It is made a specimen, as it were, of -all that is practically to be found in Him. The history -of Israel in prophecy, which was the rising and the -beginning of the future history of Israel, was just the -growing of Jesus through the ages, till at length He -culminated in the Son of Mary.</p> - -<p>I want to-day rather to tell you some of the qualifications -of a prophet—some of the elements of character -that a man must have if he is to play the part of a -prophet to the people he lives among, bidding myself -and you take the prophets as an example. One thing -is remarkable—the office of a prophet was not hereditary. -The great departments of God's government, -and teaching, and dealings with Israel were the kingship, -the priesthood, and the prophethood—the rule, the -fellowship, and the teaching and guidance. Now, all -these culminated in Jesus; He is Prophet, Priest, and -King. In Israel no mere man or body of men was fit in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">{215}</a></span> -unity to fill those offices; they were distributed. The -burden was too great, the power was too grand, for any -single man, except the perfect Son of Man, to combine -them in their fulness, and so they were divided in Israel, -to be reunited in the perfect embodiment of Israel, God, -Prophet, Priest, and King to the people. God's meaning -was that all Israel in its completeness should be king, -and prophet, and priest, without any active, separated, -divided government; that it should be a theocracy, as -God's kingdom, ruling themselves, every one of them -being a king to God, every one of them being a priest, -every one of them being able to come direct to God for -himself, and to bring his prayers to God without any -intervention of man; in the same way every man, as a -prophet, hearing God's voice direct to his heart, and -being taught the truth that God revealed. God wanted -them all to be prophets; God wanted them all to be -priests; God wanted them all to be kings: but they were -not fit for it, and so among them special men had to be -cultivated to fill those offices. Now, there is this distinction -between those divided offices or faculties of -God's rule and guidance in Israel: the kingship was -hereditary; the priesthood was hereditary: the prophethood -was never hereditary. A priest's son was born -a priest; a king's son was born a king: a prophet's son -was not born a prophet. The prophets were selected, -not born. Why? Because it was the supreme and -grandest office, the most difficult, the most responsible, -the most sacred. Any man was fit to be a -priest, to conduct the ritual and external ordinances of -worship, through which men's hearts were brought to -God. And any man, comparatively, might be a king, -so long as he devoted to his office that amount of -thought and time which was necessary. It needed no -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">{216}</a></span> -special moral qualifications and no special insight. A -man was the better who had these, but he could be a -good enough king without them. But a prophet could -not be born a prophet; a prophet had to be chosen, a -prophet had to be made by God. And the reason was -this: the prophethood was a creative office and function. -God's dealings with Israel were not done when He had -given the ancient economy of a religious priesthood -and kingdom. God had to reshape, and remodel, and -adopt His laws, and teaching, and meaning, and the -outward ordinances of religion to every age. As the -nation both externally and internally altered, new teaching -had to come to it at the hands of the prophets.</p> - -<p>Were the priests the channel by which God could -do it? Their duty was fixed, and in the law, as well -as in the form of government, men could not err; they -could follow the Divine precepts exactly in administering -them. But when an addition has to be made, and -a remoulding to take place, it wants a man capable of -entering with strange, grand insight into God's purposes, -a man with eyes, with soul; it needs a man lifted up. -And so the prophets' office was never hereditary; they -were always selected; God chose them; why? Why -did God choose one man, and not another? I think that -He chose a man, first of all, who had a natural adaptation, -who had rare powers of mind, who had rare genius -and sympathetic feeling, and not a mere presentiment of -the movements of the world and its destiny as it went on -round about him. I think that, as a rule, God selected -a man with a natural adaptation, and prepared him for -all that he had to do and tell. It transformed a man's -life; it took him clean out of the common world in which -men lived. We presume that it was so from what is recorded, -and from the facts which we know concerning the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">{217}</a></span> -prophets' characters and lives. God caused something -to happen to a man that made God appear to him what -He was not to common men. An awful vision was presented -to Isaiah of the great, grand God, and thenceforth -all earthly considerations were nothing to Isaiah. He -had seen <i>God</i>, and the future was God's making. In the -face of empires, however mighty in name and in armies, -it is the will of God that settles the future, and such a -man disregards all earthly advantages; he knows that -God means to do His deed; he says, "It shall be done; -and if you set yourselves against it there is no other end -than destruction, which is sure to fall upon you, for -God will do the deed which He means to do." It was -a revelation of <i>God</i> which made the man a prophet; it -made him a man who felt God to be supreme; it made -him to be certain of God's sovereignty, and absoluteness, -and the goodness of God's authority; so that -nothing could induce him to swerve from the path that -God appointed for him. He was a man who stood like -a rock amidst the earthly, selfish, planning, scheming -men of his time, and declared the future truly, because -he had seen God's meaning, and held men to it; and -when they would not be so held he was content to -die, declaring the truth of his message, and looking -forward to the time when the future would manifest -its truth. He was a fit prophet, a living teacher, who -spoke of the future—a grand man, with a grand office -and a grand destiny to play in the world.</p> - -<p>The man, the father, the mother, the teacher, the -preacher, who takes the prophets as examples, who -will play his destined part in his own little home, in -his own Sunday-school class, in his own congregation, -in his own neighbourhood, in the great world round -about him, must be a prophet; he must be a man who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">{218}</a></span> -knows God; he must be a man who feels God to be -all about him; he must be a man who is not merely -orthodox in theology, and believes all that is written -about God's dealings in the past; but he must be a -man that will make you know that God is living, and -moving, and loving in the events of his own time; he -must be a man who recognises God in the providences -of his own life; he must be a man who does not shape -his conduct for earthly gain or for social advantage; -he must be a man despising all these things, and -paying heed to his own high destiny, yet whose character -and conduct move on the lines which I have -indicated; who says, "God is making me great, but -He bids me live as He lives—but He bids me sacrifice -friends and home; I <i>must</i> do it; I <i>must</i> tell this truth, -though all good men should be against me, for I have -learnt it of God, at my risk of having mistaken its -meaning; yet I must speak it." Ay, even if such -a man makes mistakes in learning this new lesson of -God, and does not read it quite right, even if he -goes wrong, nevertheless he has life in him, Divine -life; he has honesty; he is a true man; he is a man -who is not of the world; he is a man who is not a -mere ecclesiastic; he is a man who is not a mere -self-seeker. That man does God's work on earth. And -I venture to say that in the Church's story you will -find that there has been a succession of men who have -done what was the work of the priest in the old time, -and there has been a succession of men who have -done the work of the prophet. You need both; you need -the priest, to keep alive, as it were, the ordinary level -of religion, to preserve some sort of uniformity; and -in the Church's story you will find that God has raised -up prophets, men who sometimes broke loose, who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">{219}</a></span> -were not always true, who sometimes mistook God's -meaning, who had but little of the character of the old -prophets, and yet who taught truth, and adapted the -old ecclesiastical doctrines to the new necessities, suiting -their work to the age; and though disbelieved and -openly denounced in their own day, they have become -our teachers since. What of the Reformers? what -of Wesley? what of Whitefield? what of many another -name, much nearer our own time, but which does not -diminish the effect of the general principle? Ay, and -what of men not so good and great as these, but who -had life in them; who broke up the stagnation of ecclesiastical -life, and brought new faith to men; who by -their dazzling earnestness, and spiritual insight, and their -teaching brought up the ordinary level of God's presence? -Thank God it is so. It is the lot of the human -prophet and priest, and of similar teachers, in our day, -to make men know that there is a God, and a Christ, -and a soul to be saved, and that they are men, and not -mere machines. Thank God for it; but pray God to -make you and me true prophets; pray God to give us -the passion of prophets, to give us sympathy with all -the wants of the age, to give us to know that He is -moving, to give us to know what new teachings come -from Him; pray God to give us generosity, and self-sacrifice, -and liberality, and largeness of heart, with -our means, with our abilities, with our whole soul, -with our prayers and spirits, and all that we have, to -play our part as faithful prophets in the world's story, -showing men God, and winning them to follow Him.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">{220}</a></div> - -<h2>XI.<br /> -<i>THE MAKING OF A PROPHET.</i><span class="fnanchor"><a name="Ref_2" -id="Ref_2" href="#Foot_2">[2]</a></span></h2> - -<p class="small">"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a -throne, high and lifted up, and His train overspreading the temple -floor. Seraphs were poised above, each with six wings, with twain -veiling his face, with twain veiling his feet, and with twain hovering. -And those on one side sang in responsive chorus with those on the -other side, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts.' 'The -fulness of the whole earth is His glory.' And the foundations of the -threshold trembled at the sound of that singing, and the house was -filled with incense smoke. Then cried I, 'Woe is me! for I am a -dead man; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the -midst of a people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, -the Lord of hosts.' Then flew one of the seraphs unto me, having in -his hand a burning ember, which with a tongs he had taken from off -the incense altar; and he touched my mouth with it, and said, 'Lo, this -hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin -purged.' Thereupon I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 'Whom -shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I cried, 'See me; send -me.'"—<span class="smc">Isaiah</span> vi. 1-8 (<i>annotated</i>).</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">ISAIAH was a prophet. A prophet, we say, was a -man who foretold future events. It is not an apt -description. He did that, and much more besides. -He interpreted past, present, and future alike in the -light of eternal truth. But his supreme concern was -with the present, and he cared for the past and the -future only as they threw light on the problems of -instant, pressing duty. The prophet was no dealer in -futurities, no dreamer babbling to an age unborn. He -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">{221}</a></span> -was a potent actor in history, living and working amid -the actual sins, and sorrows, and struggles of his day -and generation.</p> - -<p>Read the memoirs of Isaiah, and you will see how -intense and intimate was the part he played in the life -and movement of his age. One day you will find him -at the Temple, scathing with scornful reprobation the -hypocrisy and hollowness of the established ritual of -religion. Another time he has taken his stand over -against the fashionable promenade of Jerusalem, and -as he watches the passing procession of pomp and -opulence, built up on the misery and degradation of -defenceless poverty, his heart grows hot with honest -indignation, and he breaks into impassioned invective -against the stream of selfish luxury, as it rolls by with -a smiling face and a cruel heart. Again, he forces his -way into a meeting of the Privy Council, fearlessly confronts -the King and his advisers, denounces the iniquity -of a faithless foreign policy and sternly demands its -abandonment. In every department of national life, in -every section of social and religious existence, his voice -was heard and his personality felt. Yet nobody ever -mistook him for a mere politician, philanthropist, or -reformer. He was ever, and was ever felt to be, a -prophet. For he did not speak like other men, he did -not act like other men, he did not reason like other -men. He spoke not for himself, but for God. He -claimed for his speech, not the persuasiveness of human -probability, but the imperativeness of Divine certainty. -He relied solely on the coercive power of truth. He -did not touch the tools of political partisanship or -scheming statecraft. He cared nothing for the suggestions -of expediency; he defied the most certain -conclusions of earthly wisdom, and followed absolutely -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">{222}</a></span> -the bidding of an unseen guidance. He was a man -taken possession of by an irresistible perception of the -will of God, and an all-absorbing passion to have that -will done on earth. He held in the commonwealth -the place that is held by that inexorable voice which, -deaf to all balancings of earthly gain or loss, unflinchingly -proclaims the antithesis of right and wrong, and -imperatively demands that right shall be obeyed. The -prophet was the conscience of the nation. Preachers -and teachers of religion, that is what England asks of -us. It is a high calling.</p> - -<p>The office of a prophet was not an easy one. The -man had to hazard or sacrifice most of those things -that men count dear—property, popularity, home. -Every day he had to take his life in his hand, as he -risked the rage of a royal tyrant, or faced the fury of -insensate mobs. Still harder was it to stand alone in -his faith and opinion, rejected by the multitude, by the -wealth, by the wisdom of his day, mocked or pitied as -a madman; hardest of all to see his efforts foiled, his -country humiliated, his people depraved, to feel his -heart sink within him, to struggle with dark misgivings, -to doubt the reality of the Divine prompting, -and despairingly to ask whether this world were indeed -governed by a righteous Will, or were not rather the -sport of blind caprice or the slave of iron fate! Ah! -it was not easy to be a prophet. Before a man could -become a prophet he needed to possess a knowledge of -God of such absolute certainty as nothing could shake. -Once at least in his life he must have come into actual -contact with God.</p> - -<p>The experience that made Isaiah a prophet took the -form of a vision. It happened in a period of distressing -perplexity and gloom. Wrestling passionately with the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">{223}</a></span> -darkness, craving wistfully for light, the yearning to see -God in the man's soul became so intense and sensitive -that the great Heart in heaven answered the longing of -the heart on earth, and aspiration leapt into realisation, -and faith flashed into vision. On a throne, high and -lifted up, crowning and dominating all things, fixed on -immovable foundations, untouched by the changes of -time, unshaken by the shocks of history, Isaiah beheld, -seated in sovereign supremacy, a Form of ineffable -splendour, the power and presence of the Eternal in -awful actuality, beyond all doubt or question the Lord -of the universe and the Arbiter of destiny. Henceforth -he could never doubt the being and the might of God. -That is a great experience, but it leaves the heart -unsatisfied. We want to know the nature, the character -of this God, who holds our fortunes in His awful hands. -Is He good, and just, and gentle, or hard, and cold, and -cruel? The answer came to Isaiah in the seraphs' song -of adoration, with its ascription of perfect triune holiness. -It told him that in God is light, and no darkness at all. -Through and through, utterly and absolutely, in every -chord and fibre of His being, there is no baseness, no -harshness, no injustice; there is nothing but stainless -purity and splendour, nothing but radiant justice, -goodness, and truth. "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord -of hosts." Still, one wistful doubt, one anxious question, -lingers in the human heart. For what were our -poor world the better of this holy God if He be content -to sit aloof in the light and glory of heaven, leaving the -web of human story to be woven by the blundering -fingers of sinning, erring men on earth? That fear, -too, was laid for ever in Isaiah's soul by the comforting -response of the seraphs' chorus. God does not sit -apart in frigid isolation, but with His own hands He -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">{224}</a></span> -guides and controls our lost world's course. Into its -strange, sad, perplexing progress He is pouring the -goodness, truth, and love of His holy heart; and so -when the record is finished and fulfilled, every page -and syllable shall shine with that hidden holiness come -to manifested light and splendour. "The fulness of -the whole earth is His glory!" That sight of God—the -living, holy, loving God—made Isaiah a prophet. -Preachers and teachers of to-day, if we are to be -prophets, we need just such a sight of God.</p> - -<p>The vision of God made Isaiah a prophet; but the -immediate effect was something very different. The -first effect of contact with God was to produce in his -soul an intolerable sense of sin. "Woe is me! for I -am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and -I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for -mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts." -Was, then, Isaiah an exceptionally wicked man? -Hardly, when God chose him as His ambassador. But -if not, is, then, the proper effect on a good man of an -access of nearness to God an overwhelming consciousness -of personal defilement? What else should it be? -Had Isaiah been a Pharisee, he would have seized the -opportunity of his sudden vicinity to the Almighty to -direct the Divine attention to his virtues, and excellence, -and superiority over other men. Had he been one of -those philosophers in whom the heart has been overlaid -by the intellect, he would have calmly proceeded to -make observations on the Divine for a new theory of -the Absolute and Unconditioned, in sublime insensibility -to the deepest problem of existence, the awful antithesis -of human sin and of Divine holiness. Because Isaiah -was a good man, his new proximity to God woke -within him a crushing horror of defilement and undoneness. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">{225}</a></span> -And it was so precisely because he had never -been so near to God before, and had never felt himself -of so much importance. Away down here, sinning -among his fellow-men, the blots and blemishes of his -soul seemed of little moment. But up there, in the -stainless light of heaven, with God's holy eyes resting -on him, every spot of sin within him grew hot and -horrible, every defiling stain an insult and a suffering -inflicted on the sensitive holiness of God. What he -does has an effect on God; what he is, is of consequence -to God. Never had Isaiah felt himself so near -to God; never had he felt himself of such importance -to his Maker; and therefore never had he felt his sin -so black and so unpardonable. Believe me, these two -things are linked together, and no man can divorce -them—the dignity of humanity and the damnableness -of sin. You cannot tamper with the one without touching -the other. Men may, of laxity or of pitifulness, -seek to extenuate the guilt of sin and its infinite possibilities -of woes; but be sure of this, they will be -compelled ere long to attenuate the moral grandeur of -our human nature, and to surrender its majestic birthright -of immortality. Two things go hand in hand -through the Bible, from the first chapter to the last, -and mark it out from all other books: the one is its -unique and awful sense of the guiltiness of sin; the -other is the quite unapproachable splendour of its conception -of the dignity of man, made in the image of -God, and destined for His service here, and the fellowship -of His love for evermore.</p> - -<p>The ethical process by which, in the imagery of the -vision, Isaiah's sense of sinfulness came home to him, -is finely natural and simple. It was at his lips that -the consciousness of his impurity caught him. "Woe -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">{226}</a></span> -is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of -unclean lips." That, judged by our formulas and -standards, might seem a somewhat superficial conviction -of sin. We should have expected him to speak of -his unclean heart, or the total corruption of his whole -nature. But conviction of sin, actual conviction of sin, -is very regardless of our theories, and is as diverse in -its manifestations as are the characters and records of -men. Sin finds out one man in one place, and another -in a quite different spot, and perhaps the experience -is most real when it is least theological. Isaiah felt -his defilement in his lips, for suddenly he found himself -at heaven's gate, gazing on the glory of God, and -listening to the seraphs' ceaseless song of adoring -praise. Isaiah loved God, and instinctively he prepared -to join his voice to the seraphs' chant, but ere -the harmony could pass his lips he caught his breath -and was dumb. A horrible sense of uncleanness had -seized him. His breath was tainted by his sin. He -dared not mingle his polluted praise with the worship -of that pure, sinless host of heaven. Oh, the shame -and agony of that disability! for it meant that he has -no part or place in that fair scene. He is an alien and -an intruder. Its beauty and its sweetness are not for -him. He belongs to a very different scene and a very -different company. He is no inhabitant of heaven, no -servant of God; but a denizen of earth, and a companion -of sinners. Down there, amid its squalor, and -shame, and uncleanness, is his dwelling-place, remote -from heaven, and holiness, and God. "Woe is me! -because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in -the midst of a people of unclean lips." With that, the -horror of his situation reached its climax. He stands -there, on the threshold of heaven in full sight of God -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">{227}</a></span> -and of His holiness, dumb and praiseless, while all -heaven rings and reverberates with the worship of its -adoring hosts. The awful tremor of that celestial praise -passed into Isaiah's frame, and it seemed like the pangs -of instant dissolution. He, a creature of God's, stands -there in his Maker's presence, alone mute, alone refusing -to chant his Creator's glory, a blot and blank in the -holy harmony of heaven, a horrible and foul blemish -amid the unsullied purity of that celestial scene. It -seemed to Isaiah as if all the light, and glory, and -holiness of heaven were gathering itself into one fierce -lightning fire of vengeance, to overwhelm and crush -him out of existence. "Woe is me! for I am undone; -because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the -midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have -seen the King, the Lord of hosts."</p> - -<p>Isaiah in the presence of God felt within him the -pang of that death which must be the end of unpardoned -sin in contact with the Divine holiness. He -felt himself already as good as dead, yet never in all -his life had he so longed to live as now, in sight of -God, and heaven, and holiness. He did not ask to -escape. He was too overwhelmed to pray or hope. -But to God's heart that cry of despair was an infinitely -persuasive prayer for mercy. Ah! Heaven needs no -lengthy explanation, nor requires the recital of prescribed -forms or theories. The moment a sinful soul -turns loathingly from sin, and longingly to God and -goodness, that instant the Heart above responds, and -meets it with pity, pardon, hope. Ere the piteous echo -of Isaiah's cry had died away, one of the seraphs flew -with a burning ember from the incense altar, and laid -it on Isaiah's mouth, and said, "Lo, this hath touched -thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">{228}</a></span> -purged." The action is of course symbolic, but the -thing symbolised is a great spiritual fact. In it we -have mirrored the very heart of the process of redemption. -The cleansing efficacy of the burning ember -resided not in the ember, but in the Divine fire contained -in it. In the imagery of sacrifice the fire is -always conceived as God's method of accepting and -taking to Himself the offering. The sacred flame that -comes down from God, licks up the sacrifice, and in -vapour carries it up to heaven; a sweet-smelling savour -represents, therefore, the pitying holiness of God, that -stoops forgivingly to sinful men, and graciously accepts -and sanctifies them and their sacrifices. Contact with -that has sin-cleansing power, and nothing has besides. -Pagan sages and Christian saints alike unite in proclaiming -the overmastering strength of sin. Mightier -than nature's most potent forces, stronger than all -influences of persuasion, not to be reversed or uprooted -by any resources of earthly origin, is the grasp of -inveterate sin within the sinner's soul. Is there, then, -no possibility of recovery, no way of cleansing, no -ray of hope? One there is, and one alone. If Divine -Purity would but stoop in pity to the sinful one, would -but enter, in claiming love, into his polluted soul, would -but come into actual contact and conflict with the sin -and uncleanness in a decisive struggle of triumph or -defeat, then which must prove the stronger, which must -conquer—human sinfulness or Divine holiness? Ay, -if only God so loves our sin-stained race as that His -stainless purity enters really into our humanity, and -wrestles with our impurity in a contact that must be -suffering to the Divine holiness, and is sin-cleansing to -us, that were salvation surely, that were redemption. -But is it a reality? Brethren, Jesus Christ has lived, -and died, and lives again, and we know that His Holy -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">{229}</a></span> -Spirit dwells in us and in our world. That, and that -alone, is salvation—not any theories, nor any rites, but -God's Holy Spirit given unto us.</p> - -<p>It was at Isaiah's lips that the sense of sin had stung -him, and it was there that he received the cleansing. -The seraph laid the hot ember on his lips, and it left -about his mouth the fragrance of the celestial incense. -He felt that he breathed the atmosphere and purity of -heaven. He too might now join in heaven's praise -and service; no more an alien, but a member of the -celestial choir and a servant of the King. That act of -Divine mercy had transformed him. He was a new -creature, and instantly the change appeared. The -voice of God sounds through the temple, saying, -"Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And -the first of all heaven's hosts to offer is Isaiah. A -moment before he had shrunk back, crushed and -despairing, from God's presence, feeling as if the Divine -gaze were death to him. Now he springs forward, -invokes God's attention on himself, and before all -heaven's tried and trusty messengers proposes himself -as God's ambassador. Was it presumption? was it -self-assertion? I think if ever Isaiah was not thinking -of himself at all, if ever he had utterly forgotten self, -and pride, and all things, and was conscious only of -God, and goodness, and gratitude, it was then, when -his heart was running over with wonder, love, and -praise for God's unspeakable mercy to him. It was -not presumption; it was a true and beautiful instinct, -that made him yearn with resistless longing to do -something for that God who had shown such grace -to him. Oh, the tender love and irrepressible devotion -of a forgiven heart! Nothing can restrain it, nothing -hold it back. Salvation, real salvation, springs resistlessly -onward into service.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="nodent"><a name="Foot_2" id="Foot_2" href="#Ref_2">[2]</a> -Preached at Nottingham, before the Congregational Union of -England and Wales, on Monday evening, October 8th, 1888.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">{230}</a></div> - -<h2>XII.<br /> -<i>FOR AND AGAINST CHRIST.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"He that is not with Me is against Me: and he that gathereth not -with Me scattereth."—<span class="smc">Luke</span> xi. 23.</p> - -<p class="small">"He that is not against us is on our part."—<span class="smc">Mark</span> ix. 40.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT has never been an easy task to settle with any -degree of exactitude who among men should be -reckoned the Saviour's friends, and who His foes. But -perhaps no time has surrounded the problem with such -difficulties as those that arise from the circumstances -of our own age. On every side we see truth and error -intertwined in such a perplexing tangle that we scarce -know on which side to rank men and parties. The -Church of Christ is divided into so many divergent -sections, within which good and evil are so strangely -combined, that you can hardly tell if they are for Christ -or against. You find men of unexceptionable profession -and ample creed, but with a jarring life and scant -morality. On the other hand, you see men whose creed -is erroneous or imperfect, but whose life and character -are instinct with the spirit of Christ. And amid such -anomalies you feel it almost impossible to determine, -with even an approach to certainty, whom you shall -count followers, and whom foes, of the Lord Jesus -Christ.</p> - -<p>True, we are not called to sit in judgment on the -inner state of heart, the hidden attitude of men's spirits, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">{231}</a></span> -which is cognisable only by "larger, other eyes than -ours;" yet we must for practical guidance form a -conditional opinion regarding the position and action of -our fellow-men; for so alone can we determine our treatment -of them; so alone can we decide whether it is our -duty to oppose or co-operate with them, to acknowledge -them as brethren or deny to them the name of Christ.</p> - -<p>Besides, for your own comfort, you must have some -standard or test to determine who are Christ's and who -are not, for otherwise how shall you be able to adjudicate -on your own case? You are confronted, it may be, by -large and influential bodies of Christians who declare -you to be no member of Christ's Church at all, because -you do not follow after them. You feel all the -weight that attends such a verdict; you are sensible of -the solemn, tragic awfulness of the question; you are -humble, diffident, uncertain yourself of many things, -and so, perchance, your heart knows little rest or -peace. You would give much to ascertain some sure -test by which you could settle, once and for ever, -whether you are on Christ's side or against Him.</p> - -<p>For our guidance in such matters we can do no better -thing than to try and understand how the Saviour, -when He was on earth, estimated the attitudes of men to -Himself. Let us try, then, to determine the principles -that guided Him.</p> - -<p>He had come with a very definite aim in view, viz., -to establish a kingdom of heaven on earth; that is to -say, to secure the domination of men's hearts by God's -will, so that they should always act in accordance with -the Divine decrees. Or, in other words, He had come -to perform this work of delivering men from sin, of -making them pure, and holy, and Godlike. For this -end, He sought to bring them under His immediate -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">{232}</a></span> -influence, to gather and attach them to His Person, to -inspire them with faith and love for Himself. All who -aided in this, all who contributed to draw men to Him, -all who strove to make Christ and His word accepted -and esteemed, all who were at one with Him in His -aim, manifestly, were counted by Him as friends; -while, on the contrary, those who exerted themselves to -thwart Him, who endeavoured to alienate men from -His Person and doctrine, all such were His enemies, -were against Him.</p> - -<p>"But," you may be inclined to say, "while it is true -there were some men who did devote themselves to -active support of Christ, and others who did commit -themselves to declared hostility, was there not, between -these two opposing classes, a large number who took -sides neither for nor against Him, but preserved a -sort of neutrality? What, then, does Christ say of -these?" The two sayings of our Lord which I have -taken for my text have both been applied to solve this -problem. At first sight they have the appearance of -clashing with one another. "He that is not with Me -is against Me" seems to be a declaration that all who -were not positive friends were really enemies, and thus -to imply that the Master classed this whole body of -neutrals as foes; and so some use it. But again, the -second saying, "He that is not against us is on our -part," has the appearance of asserting that all who are -not declared foes are in reality the Saviour's friends, -and so, according to this principle, all neutrals should -be counted as allies. The appearance of discrepancy -only lasts when you look at these sayings singly and -apart from their occasions. They speak not of neutrals -at all. Taken in conjunction, they are seen to enunciate, -in fact, quite a different principle, viz., that in regard to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">{233}</a></span> -Christ, indifferentism, neutrality, is impossible, and that -every man must be either for or against the Saviour. -"He that is not a friend is a foe," while "he that is -not a foe is a friend;" consequently there is no such -thing as a position of neither friendship nor enmity.</p> - -<p>Let us, then, run cursorily over the incidents that -gave rise to these two sayings, in order that we may -see what is the essential character of the two attitudes -of being for or against Christ, and so exhibit how -neutrality is impossible.</p> - -<p>One day a man possessed of a dumb devil was -brought to Jesus. By His word of power Jesus cast out -the evil spirit, and immediately the man regained the -power of speech. The crowd looking on were filled -with wonder and admiration. They were pleased at -the good deed which had been done. They partook in -the dumb man's joy and gratitude, and they regarded -the Saviour with increased reverence and esteem. The -influence of the miracle was to attach men to Himself, -and draw them towards the kingdom of God. But -among the spectators there were some who had no -pleasure in the act of healing at all. They were not -glad to see their fellow-man in new possession of -speech and soundness of mind. On the contrary, they -wished it had not been done, for they grudged the -credit it brought to the Saviour. His popularity was -gall to them. It pained them to see men revere or -trust Him. They did not wish that men should be -drawn to Him. Accordingly, they attempted to turn -the people's admiration into distrust by flinging out a -dark suggestion that it was by the aid, not of God, but -of the evil one, that the Lord had been able to work -the cure. The effect designed is manifest. Such a -suspicion would have the effect of turning men away -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">{234}</a></span> -from Christ, of preventing them from submitting to -His guidance. Their purpose was not to draw men -to Him, but rather to alienate from Him any who -were attracted. Thus they were in direct antagonism -to Christ's purpose and striving. They did not like -Himself, nor His teaching, nor His aims, so they set -themselves to oppose Him in every way. It was of -such men our Lord said, "He that is not with Me -is against Me; and he that gathereth not with Me -scattereth."</p> - -<p>Turning to the second story, we find that Christ's -disciples had come upon a man casting out devils in -the name of their Master. It is evident this man had -not been much in direct communication with Christ, -if at all, for apparently he was not known previously to -the disciples, and their grievance is that one who did -not with them follow Christ should thus employ the -Master's name. It cannot but have been, therefore, -that this man knew very little of Christ's Person or -teaching. His knowledge of Him must have been -very much more imperfect than that of the disciples, -and he did not deem it his duty to become an immediate -follower of the Lord. Nevertheless, he had made the -discovery that Christ's name had power to cast out -devils, and for this beneficent purpose he was in the -habit of using it. The disciples, perhaps jealous that -another, not of their number, should possess the same -power, and believing that he could not be one of the -Lord's privileged servants, forbade him to make any -further use of the Saviour's name. On reporting this -to the Master He countermanded their decision and -gave His grounds for so doing. They were these: -Though he did not attach himself to the personal -company of Christ, though he might be very ignorant, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">{235}</a></span> -etc. etc., nevertheless, by performing miracles of healing -through Christ's name, he was bringing new honour -and reverence to that name; and again, while he was -thus in deed spreading Christ's fame and arousing -belief in Him, he was not likely to imitate the Pharisees -in slandering the Saviour—for in our Lord's words, -"There is no man which shall do a miracle in My name -that shall be able easily to speak evil of Me." That -is to say, "By using My name to perform a miraculous -cure, he puts himself out of a position to say anything -that would detract from My credit." Such an one was -certainly not a scatterer, but a gatherer. And "he -that is thus not against us is on our part."</p> - -<p>Reverting now to the first narrative see how the -active antagonism of the Pharisees was the inevitable -outcome of the fact that inwardly they were not with -Him in heart and aim.</p> - -<p>Because they did not like Him, and did not desire -Him to gain influence with the people they would not -unite in the general approbation of the crowd. Such -conduct was marked and demanded an explanation. -Apparently a good and wonderful miracle had been -wrought. It will not do for them to merely refrain -from approving. They must justify their reticence. -Neutrality is impossible. If they will not adore they -must malign. So they are forced to impugn the -character of Christ's act. To justify their want of -sympathy they must disavow its claim to their approbation. -There is no alternative between frank acceptance -of the miracle or open repudiation and disparagement -of its character.</p> - -<p>Still you must take sides for or against Christ, and -you cannot be neutral. For His claims reach you not -as external facts to be passively gazed at, but as imperative, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">{236}</a></span> -active demands that lay hold of you, and insist -that you shall take action upon them. You must yield -or you must resist. You must comply or you must -oppose. Christ lays His hand on you and if you will -not obey you must shake that hand rudely off. In -countless forms that strange, drawing power lays hold -of you, and you must follow or reject. It may be a call -to you to yield your reverence, your support, your participation -to some benevolent or religious movement. -If you will not, while others do accede to this claim, -you must seek to justify your refusal. So you are -forced into disparaging it, depreciating it, slandering it. -You cannot own it to be of God and yet remain a -rebel against its demands. So you must, with evil, -malignant tongue, sneer at it as folly, or revile it as -delusion—thus imitating the Pharisees who set down -Christ's work to be the doing of the devil.</p> - -<p>Remember, too, what a black-hearted, hateful sin -that was they were guilty of. Try and picture that -gentle, beneficent, holy Jesus. Realise the cruel blow -such a thought was to the man just healed. Surely -caution, reserve, would have made men hesitate to speak -so. But they cruelly, malignantly, eagerly cry, "By -Beelzebub He casteth out devils." It was in the face -of such light, such considerate helpful words of Christ, -that they did it. Think of the gracious words He -spoke, and of the beauty of all that life, which in our -days bring from the hearts of unbelievers encomiums -that sound like adoration. In spite of all that, they -were not made reverent, careful, slow to condemn. -Nay, they were exasperated by it all.</p> - -<p>But you may say, "They were zealous, mistaken -men, wrongly trained; they thought Christ a heretic; -they were the victims of an erroneous creed. So many -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">{237}</a></span> -had deceived them, so many false Christs had appeared! -Besides, did not Moses say that they were not to -believe a miracle simply, but to judge it by the teaching -of the worker?" It is true, there were many such. -But you do not find them among the number who -ascribed Christ's works of healing to the devil. There -were, indeed, honest but timid souls who were staggered -by the pretensions and claims of Christ, but how did -they act? Remember how one such came to Christ -and went away with mingled feelings of attraction and -perplexity; but when the body of Christ lay lone and -forsaken Nicodemus came and did honour to the sacred -dead. But these men were not such as he; their error -was not of the intellect, but of the heart. They did -not yield to the beauty of Christ's character, life, and -teaching. They were not one with Him in His longing -to establish God's kingdom on the earth. There -was an inner antagonism of spirit, of nature. They -were proud, haughty, self-righteous, and they were -hypocrites, evildoers, cruel. They hated Christ because -His pure life shamed and pained them, and they -dreaded the loss of their own prestige and power. The -secret and the essence and seat of their antagonism was -not intellectual error, but deep, dark, moral perversion -and evil of heart and conscience. Thus, because they -were not with Christ, even in so far as to have sympathy -with the undeniable good in Him, therefore they -were in act and word against Him.</p> - -<p>Finally, from the second narrative see what it is to be -with Christ and how those who inwardly are not against -are by His own verdict on His side. And, first of all, -note the error into which the disciples fell. Very like -the conduct of the Pharisees is theirs. They find a -man doing good in Christ's name. He is not all he -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">{238}</a></span> -should be, not one of them, and not a constant pupil -of Christ's. But instead of seeking to draw him -to more perfect light, they intolerantly forbid him to -do the good he was doing. So mistaken an action -must have come from a wrongness of heart. They, -too, fell before that evil, monopolising tendency that -grudges to another God's gifts which we possess. It -was a cruel thing to the man, a harmful thing, and might -have turned him from Christ. Let us take the lesson -to ourselves. Let us beware of refusing to allow good -in those who differ from us; let us beware of rashly -judging those who are not just the same as we. Harm—grave -harm—is often done by treating imperfect, -immature followers of our Master as if they had neither -part nor lot with Him. But mark how this man was -with Christ; only, remember, he is not an example of -what we should be, rather he is a specimen of one just -over the borderland: but over. It was not intellectual -orthodoxy; not a perfect knowledge of God's mysteries -that he possessed. He was very ignorant about God, -about Christ. He did but know a little of the power -of Christ and His majestic character and stupendous -work. Yet so far as his knowledge went of Christ -he had received it gladly. He rejoiced in the power -of the Saviour's name to cast out devils, to cure the -troubled ones. He did the good he knew. He acted -up to his light. In his measure he gave glory and -reverence and obedience to the Saviour. He was -working for good and mercy and truth and God in -the world. Thus he was not against Christ in these -his aims, and so was for the Lord. It is only of those -who are not against Christ in <i>this</i> sense that He says -they are on His side.</p> - -<p>Friends, there is warning and comfort in that. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">{239}</a></span> -Warning there is, for, mark, that vain dream is dispelled -which would read Christ's words as meaning that -if only you do not oppose Him actively you are to be -counted on His side. No! if that is your position, -you are not for Him; you must be against Him: for -passivity, neutrality is impossible.</p> - -<p>Comfort there is, on the other hand, to you who feel -yourselves very feeble, very imperfect; to you who -find it hard to understand; to you who fear you are -mistaken about many things. Ah! men may condemn -you; the disciples may dissuade you from taking His -name and counting yourself His, but do not fear. If -you do, as far as you see how, strive to do the good -He has taught you; if you do, it may be afar off, follow -in His footsteps; if you have learned to find in Him -in any degree a power that helps you to cast out the -evil spirits in your soul and in the hearts of men: be -sure that though you may not follow with other disciples, -though you may be very deficient, very immature, -a very unworthy servant—be sure that, nevertheless, -you are not against, but for Him, and that in the end -of the days He will not forbid you to claim His name, -but will acknowledge you for His own.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">{240}</a></div> - -<h2>XIII.<br /> -<i>THE PROPHECY OF NATURE.</i></h2> - -<p class="small">"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon -and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man, that Thou art -mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For Thou -hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him -with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the -works of Thy hands; Thou hast put all things under his feet."—<span class="smc">Psalm</span> -viii. 3-6.</p> - -<p class="small">"But now we see not yet all things put under Him."—<span class="smc">Heb.</span> ii. 8.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE Eighth Psalm is a very striking one. It lifts -the mind of the reader to a lofty height where he -seems to have soared above sin and sorrow. It exults -in man's greatness and Nature's grandeur. It is not -Hebrew and theocratic, but human and universal. -What it says is said of man as man; of man as he -ought to be, was meant to be, may be. The subject is -Humanity.</p> - -<p>The New Testament writer of the Epistle to the -Hebrews takes what is said in this psalm to be true -of Christ, and he thinks that he has a right to find in -the words a prophecy of Christ's coming. If you read -the psalm without thinking of what is said in the -Epistle you would not immediately apply it to Christ. -How, then, is there a real connection between this old -Hebrew utterance and the coming of our Lord?</p> - -<p>It is a fact that the patriarchs expected the coming -of some great and wonderful blessing in the future, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">{241}</a></span> -and it is a fact that in the coming of Christ a gift came -to men in the lines of anticipated blessing; but far -greater than they ever dreamed of.</p> - -<p>Reflecting on those predictions and anticipations of -future blessing, might there not be in the very structure -of the world, of the material universe itself, in the -course of events as they have fallen out in history, -something to lead men to expect the advent of their -Christ? God makes His plans looking, as a wise man -looks, to the end. We should expect, then, in all the -foundation-laying, that that was provided for and -expected which should be the crown of all.</p> - -<p>Is there not in creation an aspect of things which -makes men think that there is something great and -grand in store for their race? The writer of this -psalm conceived his poem as he stood in the open -fields and looked up into the solemn sky, and watched -the unhasting and untiring motion of the shining stars—worlds -upon worlds burning and throbbing in the -abyss of space. Away from the hum and tumult of -men, no one can look at those hosts of silent stars -without a subdued and awed sense of the mystery of -being, of the infinite possibilities that the universe discloses. -The star-studded heaven at night makes a man -irresistibly think of God. It makes a man think, too, of -himself. The silence, the shining, the mystery and the -solemnity of the starry heavens make a man's beating, -living life, as it were, become heard. A man is intensely -conscious of himself. That is exactly what passed -through the heart of this writer. It was not he who -chose to have these thoughts, no more than it is our -wish to have these thoughts. God was playing upon -the strings of this man's heart—more directly, more -rigorously in him, but just as He plays upon the strings -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">{242}</a></span> -of your own when you have had great solemn thoughts -of God on a dark night, beneath the burning stars. -The man's thoughts went up, and then they went down -into himself, when he looked up into heaven, when he -saw the moon and the stars, when he realised all their -wondrous being, the regularity, the order, the vastness, -the distance; then he thought of God, and God became -great and grand and majestic, and then he burst out, "O -Lord, our Lord, how excellent is Thy name in all the -earth!" That is what he said. Then he looked into -himself, his own conscious life, met its failure, and his -first thought was of his own terrible pettiness. In the -face of these countless worlds revolving in the far heaven, -"what is man?" And then there came another thought -to him: "And yet how great is man!" That mighty -moon, millions of times vaster than man, does not know -its own shining, its lustre, its own motions, its majesty. -It is blind, and deaf, and dumb, and insensate, and man -sees it and wonders at it, measures and weighs it, and -understands its nature; and so man in all his meanness, -in all his smallness, in all his weakness, in all the -fragility of his life, is greater far than sun and moon -and stars, and all revolving worlds. How little is man—and -yet how great, O God! Here down below on -earth man watches the stars, and up in heaven God -watches them too. Man thinks, God thinks; man -creates, God creates; man loves, God loves; so little, -so great, and yet so like; Father and child, the One so -grand, the other so insignificant.</p> - -<p>Then he turned to the earth on which he stood, and -with a grandeur of soul he recognised man's position -on earth sharing the likeness of God, gifted with God's -power of thought and of plan, of will and of love; man -stands lord of all lower things that have been made, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">{243}</a></span> -king and ruler with power to control, with mastery to -move them, he is lord and master over all their ways, -uncontrolled by aught, undismayed by aught, king, god -of earth: "Thou hast made him ruler over all the -works of Thy hands."</p> - -<p>Is it not a grand poem, that? If I could read to -you the best poems written in other lands by men of -other days, by men of other faiths, if I could compare -the thoughts of this psalm with other thoughts of God's -plan and of man's position, you would understand what -I mean when I say the psalm is grand, the psalm is a -revelation of man and of God.</p> - -<p>If I had the capacity or the time to try and show -you how these thoughts about God and about Nature -and about man, give man all the dignity, all the elevation -of character, all the powers and abilities to shape -and fashion the world he is in, one could not but -wonder at the grandeur of that psalm. The faith about -God, and the faith about man's destiny written down in -that psalm—that faith is the Magna Charta of humanity -that has emancipated men from the slavery to sun, -moon and stars, and all the powers of Nature.</p> - -<p>The psalm is a true conception of man's relation—upwards -to God, and downwards to Nature. It has -been perfectly described by a German commentator as -a poetical echo of creation! A psalm, a poem, such as -this flings a spell about you. You forget actualities. -It is so good, it seems so true, it is so human, it is so -living, you yield your soul to it, you are filled with its -glow and joyfulness, you are warmed with its strength -and triumph. You hail it;—and then you begin to -think, you look round, and what do you see? Mankind -lord over lower things, yourself lord over your -own body, master of your appetites? Your neighbours -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">{244}</a></span> -kings? The best of men enslaved! Bound down by -the greed of gain! So that the nobler powers of mind -and body, and soul, are degraded and cramped in -them—men and women slaves of superstition, slaves -of prodigies and foolish fancies wrought into their very -nature.</p> - -<p>"We see not yet all things put under him." If exultation -was the mood made by the picture of the psalm, -depression is the mood made by the picture of mankind; -and are we to end with that? No. The writer to the -Hebrews has given us the key by which we can unlock -the secret, and have confidence in the triumph of man's -better nature, and hope for a better future.</p> - -<p>Let us look a little deeper into things, let us do men -justice. Has man ever acquiesced in his sinful, sorrowful -slavery? Never. It is always under protest that -he regards it. It is always with a sense of fallen greatness. -It is always with discontent. It is always with -an unconquerable conviction that man was made for -something better. Proof, do you want? Why is it -when you read a story of heroic generosity, like that of -the captain who gave away his own life for that of a -wretched boy the other day, that you feel life to be -worth living? What is the meaning of that sense of -grandeur, of greatness, of triumph, that comes over -you? How is it? What is it? When you see a -brave deed of self-denial; at another time, when we -hear of a cruel, mean deed done—how do we feel towards -each? Are we all bad? If that were our natural lot -we should acquiesce in the evil deed, we should have -no shock, no surprise; instead of that there is a sense -of surprise, and revolt. There is an error somewhere—a -disaster, a calamity. It is a sin—sin—a thing that -robs us of our heavenly nature. Do we recognise it as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">{245}</a></span> -a part of human nature? No. Sin is unnatural, sin is -horrible. That is the meaning of the death scene in -Macbeth. A knock at the door reveals to the murderer -the distance his crime has set between him and the -simple ordinary life of man. Sin is something unnatural, -it is a calamity, an intrusion, it ought not to -be there. Fellowship with God! Impossible to us! -Why? Because we were never meant to have it? -No. If there be a God at all, if He made this world, -if He made men to think, and feel and understand, then -God meant the world to be like a written book that -should speak of Him. Why does not all Nature so -speak to man? Because we have sinned, because we -have lost the lineage, because we are not like Christ, -the sinless Son: to Him the lilies had the touch of -God on them, the birds in every song proclaimed His -praise.</p> - -<p>So, then, while we see that all things are not put -under man, we see plainly that God meant it otherwise, -and that God made man to be lord of creation. -What God does not wish is hardly likely to stand. If -man has missed being what he was meant for, there -is good possibility that he may regain it. If God -be love, there is certainty. I enter a master-painter's -studio, and I see upon his easel a spoiled picture. I can -see the majesty of the design, the beauty of the ideal, -but from some defect in the pigment or flaw in the -canvas, it has gone wrong; it is blurred and dim and -spoiled. But not so to himself; that man will not -allow the disaster to prevent him creating in visible -form the vision of beauty that once charmed his -heart. The man would not be a man of will and -determination if he allowed the disaster to hinder him -in his purpose. God is unchangeable. God is God.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">{246}</a></div> - -<p>Man is not what God made him for; man is not -what God made him to be; and God is God. His -purpose may lapse for a little, His designs may be -delayed on the way, but if the beginning points to -the grand end, that end will be reached. God meant -it. God means it. God shall do it.</p> - -<p>We stand farther on along the track of God's providential -dealings with men. We see more than the -writer to the Hebrews saw. He, too, remembered that -psalm when he described man as he ought to be. -Why did he still let it live and exist as a thing that -is true? He could wait. What was he waiting for? -And what were the singers thinking of as they chanted -that psalm? They thought of a good time coming, -they thought not the less of the disaster, they thought -of God redeeming men, of God causing a Man to be -born who should be a Deliverer, they thought of Him -reaching out hands of help to all who came to Him, -and the writer to the Hebrews writes truly when he -says that that is prophesied of Christ. It is a prediction -of His coming. God cannot be foiled. Man is -not yet what God created him to be, the crown of all -the earth-creation, but in the divine heart and mind -there has been that vision—man wanting but little of -exaltation to be next to God—man the lord of all—and -the writer to the Hebrews was able to say, "God has -achieved it; in Christ, crowned King and Lord of all -creation, the psalm is fulfilled."</p> - -<p>What depth of meaning and of wonder, of future -joy and triumph, there is in that feeling he has of -Christ as the Flower and Fruit of God's design in all -creation! What depth of meaning there may be I do -not dare to fathom, of good to all mankind; but this -I will think,—that in the end of time when all things -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">{247}</a></span> -have been summed up and restored in Jesus Christ, -when God shall have gathered together in one the broken -threads, when the whole creation that with man groaneth -until now, shall be delivered from its bondage—God will -be seen not to have failed. What future revelation of -grandeur, and of Divine goodness, and of redemption -beyond our utmost thoughts, there may be, I do not think -we were meant to know. I do not think we should dare -to dogmatise; but we were meant to have our eyes -drawn away to that glorious, radiant, splendrous future, -and we are bidden there to see all God's loving pity and -wise provision for us. Ah! God is working; He is -creating, loving; He is providing, planning; He is redeeming -creation, gathering together into one grand -whole a restored humanity and a ransomed creation; -and all mysteriously and strangely wrought into a great -unity with Christ, and through Christ, with God.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">{248}</a></div> - -<h2>XIV.<br /> -<i>CHRISTIAN GIVING.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">Preached in Willesden Presbyterian Church,<br /> -September 24th, 1882.</span></p> - -<p class="small">"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The -sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks -be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. -Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always -abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your -labour is not in vain in the Lord."—<span class="smc">1 Cor.</span> xv. 55-8.</p> - -<p class="small">"Now concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order -to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye. Upon the first day of the -week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered -him, that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, -whomsoever ye shall approve by your letters, them will I send to -bring your liberality unto Jerusalem."—<span class="smc">1 Cor.</span> xvi. 1-3.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">I HAVE read this passage for one single purpose; -it is to draw your attention to the singular way -in which St. Paul passes from the doctrine of the -Resurrection to the practical duty of Christian giving. -It almost startles us, who have not quite St. Paul's way -of thinking about collections, to hear him pass from that -triumphant apostrophe of death, "O death, where is thy -sting?" to "Now concerning the collection."</p> - -<p>This seeming incongruity in the Epistle, and in the -Church's work, is not confined to the Bible or to the -Church; it runs all through life. Man has a poor, -fleshly body, needing food, and drink, and sleep, and -nursing; and he has an immortal soul. Say what you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">{249}</a></span> -will, we cannot deny that the body is there; and I do -not think we shall ever come to deny that the soul is -there too, and will live, so long as goodness, tenderness, -and devotion, and truth, and being last. Life has got -into it; and the material framework which carries that -soul-man's life corresponds to himself. In our homes, -in our national life, in our business life there is the -strangest intermingling of tragedy and comedy, of what -is reverent and sacred, and what is most secular, and -common, and mean. You cannot divorce the two. -You may dislike the commonplace, and the mean, and -the material; but if you hope to preserve the region -of the spiritual and the sympathy of the good, that -you can only do by preserving the body; they are -gone when you forget the body.</p> - -<p>What is it that is the brightest, heavenliest thing in -the whole earth? It is love. No amount of mere -common propriety, in the humblest action, will make -up for the absence of that which comes out in a sudden -tear or looks out in a sweet smile. We all know it, -however earthly and material we are. But what I have -to say is this: Look at that sacred thing, that love, which -is almost too refined to put its hands on the soiling -things of earth; what do you find it doing? Nursing -at the sick bed, doing tasks that are repulsive, planning, -with all kinds of material medicaments, and helps, -and reliefs, to ease bodily pain. Now, it is easily possible -for a coarse heart and poor bodily eyes to be -in the midst of all that is sacred, and secular too, and -to call it all common, and poor, and mean. It needs a -quick, warm heart, and it needs almost, I may say, some -imagination, some touch of a fine fancy, something of -that Divine power which comes of tender affection and -love, to do such acts for God.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">{250}</a></div> - -<p>In the life of Christ's spiritual family, which we call -"the Church" (and by calling it "the Church" so often -put it clean away out of all control of common sense and -of affection), the very same law holds. The Church -is worth nothing if it is not lit up and warmed with -heavenly devotion to Jesus Christ. It may look solemn -at the Communion-table; but it is not worth having -if it does not reach men's hearts with fingers which -squeeze out their hardness, and make them penitent -for their sins; it is not worth having if it has not God, -and Christ, and the life of the soul all throbbing through -it. And yet it has a body, and material buildings, and -expenses to maintain its earthly fabric and framework; -and the spiritual life and the spiritual love that will have -nought to do with these "cares of all the Churches," -which Paul, the greatest preacher and Apostle, carried, -or with collections and planning for the maintenance of -preachers, thereby destroy themselves. If we try to -put away that, and say, "It is not spiritual," or "It -is a low thing," we are simply committing suicide of -the religious life. It cannot live without that. Christ -Himself had to plan how His preachers were to be -maintained; and He spoke a great word when He said -that they were to go and live on those who could not -preach; not taking it as charity—never!—but taking it -as a helpful service, which, combined with their searching -of the Divine Word, should make it triumph in the -world. "He that receiveth" into his house—maintaining -him, that he may preach—"a preacher" (that -is the meaning of "a prophet"), "in the name of a -preacher"—not because he brings honour to the house, -and because he is a great man, but because he is a man -who is converting souls, a man that takes God at His -word, and prays, and preaches unto men—will have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">{251}</a></span> -the same "reward" in heaven, Christ providing for -the spiritual wants and for the bodily wants of the -preacher, and for his maintenance. And so, if once -we lived in good earnest into that real, loving, great, -broad thought of the actual life of Christ, we should -not feel any surprise when we read how St. Paul passes -from the great triumph of the doctrine of the Resurrection -to the enforcement of Christian liberality.</p> - -<p>Now I am going to spend the time at my disposal -this morning in a very practical way. I hardly think -that it needed that introduction to justify this use of -the time at a Sunday morning's service; still, possibly, -what has been said may be of use, not so much as a -justification, but just as a preparation. I think that -these things are for you. The subject is not a mere -question of Church business; it is not a mere question, -either, of interest to the men whose minds have a little -of the statesman in them, and who consider the problems -of Church government and Church management, -as well as of national government and management; -but I will say that it is a subject which ought to have -a thorough interest to every one of you. I have been -led to take it as my subject this morning because I was -sent, a fortnight ago, by our Synod, as a deputy to one -of our largest Presbyteries in the North, in order that -I might interest congregations there in our Church's -financial system of maintaining the preaching of the -Gospel throughout this country; and I had the feeling, -when I was doing it, and I had the assurance from -those whom I visited, that it did them good. I have -thought, therefore, that it might do my people good. -Moreover, I had this feeling about the very strong and -plain things that I said to them, that I should hardly -be an honest man if I did not care openly to say the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">{252}</a></span> -same things to my own people. Nay, I was led in -some things to speak of my congregation, and what -they had done not only for their minister, but for all -the schemes of the Church, as an example; and therefore -I feel my honour somewhat pledged that our congregation -should not only do well, as it has done, but -should do better. I say these things that I may have -your sympathy in what I am going on to explain and -to say to you.</p> - -<p>The special subject, in our Church's government and -economy, of which I want to make you understand a -little is what is called the "Sustentation Fund." I -wish to be short and to be simple. Let me begin in -this fashion: We believe that wherever there are -Christian congregations who have the love of their -Master in them, and some spiritual life, all these are -blessed spots and centres, wherever they stand. We -know how sorrows are soothed away by that Christian -brotherhood and friendship, by those common prayers -and praises, and by those words of truth which are -read out of the Bible and often spoken by preachers. -We believe that, or we do not believe in Christ at all. -That is how Christ comes to men and women, and -boys and girls, and little children, on earth. Oh, He -does nothing for them like that! Well, now, it is a -very practical question, that comes to all Christian -men and women who are gathered together into any -section of Christ's Church, how they can make their -ministers, and their managers, and their elders, and -their deacons, and their office-bearers (by whatever -name you call them), and all their members, most useful -and effective for good. It is the first question that -their Master puts to them. He says, "Do your best." -It is the duty of every Church in England just now to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">{253}</a></span> -do everything in its power, by business methods as -well as by spiritual methods, to make every congregation -have a happy, harmonious, earnest, liberal, joyful, -successful Christian life.</p> - -<p>Now I will say this: It seems to me that the good -which will be done by any denomination in England -just now depends, of course first of all on its possession -of the living Spirit and heart of Jesus Christ in its -members; but that is not my subject to-day; I am -talking of the material side, the body surrounding the -soul; I say, the good which will be done by any Church -in England will depend upon three things: first of all, -that it shall have devised a government which will -exercise power—superior control—over individual members, -office-bearers, ministers, congregations; which will -preserve a harmonious, law-abiding, just, and generous -spirit and conduct between them all; not leaving it -to two individuals in the Church, or some individual -member, to fight the thing out, if a disagreement -arises, without asking, before an impartial tribunal, -which party is right, and each of them being willing -to take the right. I say that a government which, -without the evils of undue centralization, without -crushing individual freedom, and liberty, and enterprise, -will combine all congregations into one strong, -united body, powerful to do Foreign Mission work and -Home Mission work, cemented together so that the -strong carry the weak when they are overtaken by -sickness or disaster—and the strong get the blessing -when doing work like that—a government the likest to -that is a government which will make the most useful -and the most spiritual and successful Church in our -England. I say that I have watched the progress -of things in these times of profound interest, and it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">{254}</a></span> -seems to me that men are looking at one another in -the Churches for what is good and desirable. That I -believe to be our attitude in watching other Churches, -and to be the attitude of other Churches in watching -us. I look forward to a powerful, happy future in -consequence.</p> - -<p>The second thing which seems to me to be a great -spring of a Church's usefulness in this modern England -is the earnestness and success with which it devises -methods of instructing its young people; not merely -winning their affections for Christ, but giving them a -reason for the faith that is in them; not merely teaching -them that there is a Saviour to protect them at the -Judgment, but giving them the life and thoughts of -Christ, and that knowledge which shall cause them to -grow into the perfect manhood of Christ. I say, the -Church that most successfully and thoroughly, from -the children in the Sunday-school and in the Bible-classes -to those under higher systems of instruction, -carries forward a knowledge of the Bible, and of God's -ways with man, and of human nature in its religious -aspects, to its young people, will be the greatest blessing -in England; and once again I see that all the -Churches are awake to it.</p> - -<p>And the third thing is this (not by any means that -there are not other things, which are perhaps just as important, -but these three stand out prominent on account -of the state of men's minds in England just now): the -Church that can devise a method which will fill its pulpits -with men who are not merely earnest converted men, -loyal to Jesus Christ, but men abreast of the intelligence -and thought of the times, men who have a calm reliance -in their own faith by having looked all difficulties in -the face, men who have something of the self-control -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">{255}</a></span> -and the large thoughts that come with culture; men -who will be, not despised, but respected by the people -that come to listen to them, and with whom they come -in contact in the sorrows and trials of life—the Church -that can best fill its pulpits with such preachers, and -put such pastors into its congregations, will do the -best work in England. And, mark you, it is not merely -a question of denominational success; God forbid that -I should care for that; but that Church is best fulfilling -its Master's command, best doing its Master's work, -most contributing to the realisation of that time when -Christ shall be King of men.</p> - -<p>I now come to the particular part of our Church's -method of government and order which I have chosen -for explanation to you to-day. We aim at having all -our ministers men who, with great differences of -original natural ability, have at least had all the -thorough discipline and culture that training can give -them. Our ministers have all passed through a high -school course, a University course, and a course of -study at a theological hall. Now, all that means a -period of education of something like at least twelve -years. We aim at having men who have ability, men -who will be able to bear themselves, in all the relations -of life, with dignity. We aim at having men worthy -to speak in Christ's name. It is a worthy aim. Well, -now, how are you to have such men? By praying for -them; by planning thoroughly disciplined study for -them; by seeking them out in families, and persuading -and inducing them to give themselves to the work of -preaching Christ's Gospel, and keeping alive spiritual -love and truth in people's hearts. It is a worthy -object. But I will be very plain: the Church's hands -are largely tied by a very mean, material fact; it is the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">{256}</a></span> -question of the salary which is attached to that office. -If it be a wretched pittance, then it is a simple matter -of fact that you will not get men who are capable of -taking a position in the Christian world with dignity -and efficiency to devote themselves to the work of -preachers. Why should they? You say, "Why -should a mercenary motive act?" Very good; why -should it? But it does. But why should it not? -Sometimes it is said, "You must not make the ministry -a bribe by the largeness of its emoluments." Does it -cease to be a bribe when its emoluments are a pittance? -You only lower the level of temptation to an inferior -grade of men, as well as where nothing is paid at all. -God meant that men should be tempted, and you -cannot get rid of it; they must battle with it and withstand -it. But how does the thing work? I do not -think that many men of much ability will be tempted, -at least till the Millennium comes, by the emoluments -of preaching, however good they come to be. I, for my -part, should regret if it ever became a temptation to -the highest ability—a money temptation, I mean. But -what I have to say is this: I am talking of a thoroughly -adequate maintenance—not of <i>payment</i>. The kind of -service that is done by a man who saves a human -being from sin and hell is a service which cannot be -<i>paid</i>. That man can only be maintained to do that -work; there is no money equivalent to such a service. -Partly the same thing is true of a medical man's service; -he saves a life. Why, if you paid him the commercial -value of his service you must give him your fortune; -he saves your <i>life</i>. There are some things which -cannot be paid for. You cannot pay for the love of -wife and children. The sweetest things cannot be paid -for; you can only show your appreciation of them by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">{257}</a></span> -a worthy maintenance; it would be a pity to talk of -paying for them.</p> - -<p>Now, suppose that the maintenance awarded to -ministers, to preachers, be so small that they cannot -live and bring up their children as men of such culture -and such ability are made by God to require that they -should be able to do; what is the effect of it? You -often break that man's heart; you embitter it; he -would be more than human if you did not. To go -about begging for wife and child! That is the result; -and it is not the result of mere disaster, but of stinginess -and meanness in Christian England. I will tell -you how it works. Where shall we get young men -with brains, with talent, with ability, that they may -give themselves to a life which is not thought to be -worth a decent maintenance by Christian people? Look -at it. Here is a young man, a member of some -country Church; God has moved his heart, and made -him wish to do all the good he can in the world. He -has a feeling that he could do more if he were a -minister. He would like to be one. He knows himself -to possess powers to rise in the world and take a -position of eminence, a position of dignity, and to do -good in that fashion. Here is this youth with a warm -heart, who wishes to be a minister. But I will suppose -that the minister of his congregation has had some -wretched pittance to live on, has been worn out with -the cares of just making ends meet, has often been -behindhand, has been talked of as such, and more -than talked of, even by kind-hearted Christian men and -women, with something of pity, and something of concern; -and this youth says to himself, "That is the life -of a preacher." He would be more than human if he -thought it right and wise to choose it. And what of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">{258}</a></span> -his father and mother—will they encourage him to do -so? They would not be parents if they did. They -will tell him, "Do not you suppose that there is -anything so excellent, or dignified, or worthy, in a -minister's work." Ah, you may say that it is a -mercenary thing! True; but where does the mercenariness -begin? who brings it in? After all, men will -go by reason, and they will estimate what are the worth -and dignity of the career of a preacher of the Gospel -by what Christian men and women set them down at -in pounds, shillings, and pence. That is reason.</p> - -<p>I have said these things strongly; I have said them -very strongly here, because, though I dislike to speak -of things concerning ourselves, I am bound to say -frankly that you to your minister have always acted -with rare liberality and generosity, beyond what sometimes -I have thought was proportionate. You will -perfectly understand, then, that in what I speak it is -not to reproach you; far from it; it is to interest you, -and make you feel the importance of this question.</p> - -<p>Since I came to be myself a teacher of theological -students, and to take a pride in my students, and to -seek that they should be able ministers, I have come to -feel how my hands are hampered and crippled, and -that the best men are kept out by such poor, mean -drawbacks as these. You will understand me.</p> - -<p>I now come to explain more fully the working of the -particular method adopted by our Church to maintain -an honourable, able, dignified Christian ministry: We -call it the "Sustentation Fund." The immediate aim -is this, to gather together the strength and liberality -of rich congregations, and distribute them in districts -where they are poorer. In that way the poorer congregations -are able to give a more handsome maintenance -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> -to their ministers. In that way, instead of the -Church having men of parts, and culture, and dignity in -the wealthier charges only, it has men of at least fair -eminence, and dignity, and ability in all its branches; -and that is an immense advantage. If it is a bane -to society to have too great extremes of wealth and -poverty, it is the same with the Church. If any Church -is bound to avoid it, it is <i>our</i> Church; for one of the -central principles of our Church is that its ministers -and office-bearers should all sit as equals in a deliberative -assembly, and that none should be able to make -their will press upon others. If you have one set of -ministers begging for doles from other and richer -ministers, what have you? You have destroyed the -Church as a brotherhood, as a family. Now I have -given you in that a reason why we endeavour to -distribute the generous strength of the richer among -the poorer congregations by the Sustentation Fund. -Another method would be by an Augmentation Fund, -by which wealthier congregations would dole out money -to poorer congregations. That is not our system; our -system is this: Every congregation is asked to give, -"as God has prospered them," to a fund which we -prefer to call by our old Scotch term, a "Sustentation" -Fund; they have to give all that it is in their hearts -to give to that fund, and they send it up to a central -committee, charged with the duty of distributing it. -The whole amount is divided by the number of the -ministers, and an equal share is sent to each. Note -how that works. It does not preclude the wealthier -congregations from adding a supplement, as it is -called—adding as much as they like to the income -of their own minister. It would be unreasonable that -a man should not give more to the minister to whose -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">{260}</a></span> -ministrations he has attached himself, and who has -drawn out his sympathies; and therefore no such -liberality is asked to this fund, which goes among all -the ministers.</p> - -<p>Again, the weaker congregations are urged to contribute -a sum which is equal to their common share; -but if they come short the deficiency is made up by the -surplus from the other Churches. For instance, suppose -the distributed sum is £200, and one congregation -sends £230. Of that sum £200 comes back, £30 -remains, and goes probably to some congregation in -Northumberland who have only sent up £170.</p> - -<p>Now, I have no time to go into details, or to talk about -objections, technical objections, and so on; but just let -me show you very briefly some of the advantages of -this way of working. I have spoken about the sentiment -of the thing. Ministers, like men, have feelings. -The poorer ministers prefer to get their larger stipend -in that fashion, rather than getting the money as a -dole. That point has to be considered; and when you -remember how great a part feeling plays in all our life -you will not disregard such a thing, even if it is only -sentiment. But look at the thing practically. It may -be said, "What is the use of sending up the whole -amount? What good is there in a congregation sending -up £230, and getting £200 back? What good is -there in a congregation sending up £170, and getting -£200 instead? Cannot you just as well send the -£30?" If you did that it would become a Dole Fund; -it would not be a Sustentation Fund. Then is it a -mere difference of arrangement or sentiment? Not a -bit of it. I will show you how the thing works practically. -It is one of those secondary sorts of advantage -which generally go, more than anything else, to prove -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">{261}</a></span> -a principal good. I suppose that, if you have ever -thought of it, you are not surprised to find that Church -business is constantly done in a most slovenly way. -I suppose you are aware that even down in the City -there are many offices where things are done in a -slovenly, hap-hazard fashion. If that is so in business, -and parish matters too, it is worse in Church matters; -for even Church people seem to think that Church -business need not be done with the same method and -regularity as that with which secular matters should be -done. Now, that is especially the case in country congregations, -and the bearing of it upon finances is that -moneys are not collected as they should be; they are -not asked for, and are lying out when they ought to -come in. A man who can give a shilling a month -cannot get up twelve shillings at the end of the twelve -months. All of you who are business men know what -an immense advantage it is to business to have the -whole of the book-keeping, and everything, done in an -efficient manner. I saw, in this visitation of mine, -congregations that had not connected themselves with -this Sustentation Fund whose business affairs were in -a shameful condition. It meant that the minister did -not get his salary; it did not come in at the time; not -that the money would not be given the moment it was -applied for, but the treasurer was careless about it, and -never thought of it. You can see the foolishness of -such a position, and what a bad thing it is for the -Church. What do they care about giving, when the -thing is done in that careless fashion? Now, the -Sustentation Fund means that the whole money collected -for the minister's maintenance goes up to London; and -the country people down in Northumberland try not to -disgrace themselves in the eyes of the central officers in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">{262}</a></span> -London, and the central officers in London have no -hesitation in giving them a reminder. The advantage -is the same as it is to a business house every year to -have all its books and business pass through the hands -of an accountant. It makes a man careful; things do -not fall behind. This mode of working brings regularity -and punctuality, not merely into the Sustentation -Fund, but into the whole of the funds of all -our charges. Well, but you may say, "What is the -use of aid-giving congregations sending up their -£200?" They do it, who do not need it, to get the -others, who do need it, to do it too.</p> - -<p>I have shown you what a very practical thing the -Sustentation Fund is. I am now going to mention an -advantage which requires little more of Church statesmanship -to appreciate it. It is not the minister, but the -congregation, who gets the greatest benefit; I will tell -you how. Ministers do not like to go to congregations -where they are kept in arrears, and where they do not -get that proper maintenance which they should, just -through carelessness, or where they have to ask the -treasurer for money. To revert to the commercial -illustration, you would not go as partner into a firm -where all the books were carelessly kept, and everything -was in a slovenly, negligent condition. And -the congregation that has its whole business arrangements -and financial affairs completely regular and -punctual stands in a much better position when it has -to seek a minister than one that has not; it will get a -better man. That is a very real consideration.</p> - -<p>Once more, the system of the Sustentation Fund acts -in such a fashion that does not allow congregations to -impose on it. The Committee of the Sustentation -Fund say this: "We fix with the poorer congregation -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">{263}</a></span> -how much of the money it shall send up, and we -undertake that it shall share with the richer congregations -so long as it does its duty." If they find that it -is imposing on them, then they act very sharply; but -if there is some local disaster, the loss of a wealthy -member, or some sweeping misfortune, the Sustentation -Fund will do what a family does for a sick child; -it will nurse the sick child till it is strong again, and -will not let it die out.</p> - -<p>Once again, look how this system improves the -position of the congregation (to use a commercial -phrase) in the ministerial market. See what the Sustentation -Fund amounts to. You know how the credit -of a weak State is improved when a powerful State -backs it up; it can borrow at a lower rate of interest. -Any man, or any firm, whose business is punctually -done, and whose books are properly kept, can get -money from a banker much more readily than one who -has the reputation of being slovenly. And the system -of the Sustentation Fund improves the character of a -congregation; it gives the shield of the whole Church -to an individual congregation; it says that disaster -shall not depress it; it carries such a congregation -through a time of difficulty. A minister has more heart -to go to a weak charge, to a congregation exposed to -such disasters, when that congregation has its credit -backed by the general credit of the whole Church. -That is a businesslike and statesmanlike consideration, -and it is a very real one.</p> - -<p>There are a great many other things which I could -tell you. Let me mention one fact to show what our -Sustentation Fund has already done. It has always -been weak hitherto, and there has been a great deal -of opposition to it, and there have been a great -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> -many difficulties in introducing it. It has not been -able to do what it would do if it were strong; but I -will tell you what it has done already. In Northumberland, -where our Churches get the best members and -Church officers—young men brought up properly—young -women brought up with prayers morning and -evening—Churches with full light in them, but very -poor—in these Northumberland Churches the annual -ministerial stipend has in many cases been nearly -doubled. Of course you may say that many ministers -are not worth even £200 a year. That is true; but -if they are not worth £200 a year they are not worth -anything; it is better to have them out. It is not a -question of degree or amount, but the question is, Is -the man doing a minister's work in an honest way? -If he is, it is not fair that he should have to struggle -on upon such a pittance as many of the ministers have -been receiving. Well, now, I will tell you what the -Sustentation Fund has done. With the exception of -two or three charges that have to be nursed by the -Home Mission Fund, and put, as it were, on the child -platform, this Sustentation Fund has given to every one -of our ministers an annual income of £200; and what -has it proved? That our giving it has brought before -the congregations the duty of supporting their ministers -as has never been done before. It has taught them -to be more liberal in maintaining their ministers; it -has induced them in that way to be more generous and -liberal themselves.</p> - -<p>Now I have left myself no time for some more -spiritual thoughts with which I wanted to end. I do -not think that it much matters, if you remember how -the spiritual lives on the practical material working -of Church organisation; but I just want to say this -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> -(I wish I could feel it for myself, and I do wish that -our members could feel it), that there is a great risk -of well-to-do congregations unconsciously growing very -selfish, and being shut up in themselves. That position -brings a curse with it if it brings a blight in the heart, -and if we come to Christ just to get our souls saved, -and then selfishly congratulate ourselves upon that. -Christ wants a great, loving heart, panting to do good -to every one, and to save him from sin. He says, "Do -not be satisfied with just coming to say your own -prayers, and sing your praises, and get your sorrows -comforted, and have your joys brightened, by belonging -to a congregation; but think of all the great Church -everywhere, and whether you might not do something -for it." I think that God gathers us into congregations -just for the same reason that He gathers us into families. -Our love is too weak to be left spread out—it would -die altogether; it would be chill and cold as the world—and -so he shuts it in, and bids a man love wife and -child with family affection; and so he nurses that love, -and makes it profound. What is it that causes the love -of father and mother to be so strong and tender? Is -it not that there are such endless demands upon them -for giving their money, and time, and prayers? It is -God's greatest gift. But sometimes I see men and -women misuse it, and make gigantic walls, and turn -them into prison walls, and they do not care for any -human being outside their little circle. It becomes a -blight and a curse to them. Our Church is strong now -in England under the Presbyterian system, while others -are isolated. There is a real danger that our hearts -will be dried up and narrowed; and I put it to you -that here is one means of counteracting it, by giving -with a warm heart, thinking of the manses away in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">{266}</a></span> -North, and the ministers' homes, that will be made -happier and better by the liberality of those whom God -has prospered. The Church that shows most liberality -and loyalty to others is the Church that will have most -love and loyalty to the Master.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">{267}</a></div> - -<h2>XV.<br /> -<i>OUR LORD'S TREATMENT OF ERRING FRIENDS.</i></h2> - -<p class="center"><span class="smc">Sunday Readings.</span></p> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Ps. cxxxviii., and John xiii. 1-17.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Self-asserting.</span>—John xiii. 4, 5.</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">ON the evening before He died, Jesus washed the -disciples' feet. This touching action of our Lord -is constantly taken and turned into a picture of spiritual -truths, and it is a very fair use to make of the story. -No wonder if there is ever an overflowing surplus of -meaning in all the things that Jesus said and did. But -we must not forget that their symbolic use is a matter -of secondary moment, and we must take care, first and -chiefly, to recognise in our Lord's words and deeds that -simple, direct meaning which He intended them to have. -In the present case He has Himself told us why He -did this strange and beautiful act of self-abasement to -His faulty followers, and what effect the memory of His -great humility ought to have on our hearts and characters, -if we would be like Him, divinely wise and good -in our treatment of erring friends.</p> - -<p>In the country where Jesus lived the roads were hot -and dusty, and the people wore sandals that left the -upper part of the foot exposed. In the course of even -a short journey the skin became covered with an -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">{268}</a></span> -irritating kind of sand. Therefore, on the arrival of a -visitor, it was the first duty of hospitality to offer water -to wash and cool the weary feet. When a feast was -made the guests, as they entered, would lay aside their -sandals, and take their places on the couches that surrounded -the table. Then the humblest servant of the -house was wont to come with basin, towel, and pitcher -of water, to kneel behind each couch, to pour the water -over the projecting feet, to wash them clean and free -from stain, and to wipe them gently dry. It was a -comfortable and kindly custom, and we know, from the -anecdote of Simon the Pharisee, that our Lord missed -it when it was omitted, and gratefully welcomed it -when it was observed.</p> - -<p>This night Jesus and His disciples are gathered for -supper in the upper room of a strange house in Jerusalem. -The room has been lent for the occasion, and -so there is no servant in attendance on them. In such -circumstances it had been customary among the little -company for one of their number, ere the meal began, -to do this needful service for the rest. In a corner of -the room stood the pitcher and basin, with the towel -folded by their side. They had all taken their places -round the table, and the time to commence supper had -come (so read verse 2). But this night—the last of -their Master's life on earth—none rose to wash their -feet, none stirred to perform that friendly office. One -and all, they kept their places in painful and embarrassed -silence. Their refusal of the lowly but accustomed -task was due to an unwonted access of pride -and self-assertion in their hearts. That very day, in -the way, there had been a fierce contention among the -disciples as to which of them was greatest. The dispute -reached the Master's ear, and he firmly rebuked -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">{269}</a></span> -their rivalry and quelled the quarrel. The storm of -passion was silenced on their lips, but the sullen surge -of anger had not quite died out of their hearts. Not -yet would it be easy for any one of them to forget his -dignity, and do a humbling service to the rest. And -so it came to pass on that solemn evening, when their -Master's heart was so soft and tender, their hearts were -hard with pride and anger, and though they felt the -painfulness of the pause and the wrongfulness of their -obstinacy, not one of them had the manliness to rise -and end it, and by humbling himself make peace and -harmony in their hearts.</p> - -<p>The consciousness of discord entered the holy heart -of Jesus and pierced it. His soul was filled that night -with love unspeakable, and He longed to pour out to -His friends the joy and the pain of His mighty purpose. -But that could not be while their breasts were possessed -by petty rivalries, and mean thoughts, and angry -feelings. He must first shame away their pride, and -melt their hardness, and make them gentle, lowly, and -loving. How can He do this most quickly and completely? -"He riseth from supper, and laid aside His -garments; and took a towel, and girded Himself. After -that He poureth water into a basin, and began to wash -the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel -wherewith He was girded." Who is not able to picture -the scene—the faces of John, and James, and Peter; -the intense silence, in which each movement of Jesus was -painfully audible; the furtive watching of Him, as He -rose, to see what He would do; the sudden pang of -self-reproach as they perceived what it meant; the -bitter humiliation and the burning shame! The way -John recites each detail tells how that scene had -scorched itself on his soul and become an indelible -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">{270}</a></span> -memory. Truly his Master had "given him an -example." To his dying day John could see that sight, -and many a time in the hour of temptation it crossed -his path and made him a better man. May that same -vision of our Lord's great humility rise before our eyes, -when life is full of pride and rivalry, and our hearts are -hot and angry; and may its sweet influence come on -our spirits like cool, pure water, to wash these evil -passions out, and to make us good and gentle, like -Jesus!</p> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Job xvi., and Matt. xxvi. 31-46.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Unsympathetic.</span>—John xiii. 1-3.</p> - -<p>The preface to the narrative of the feet-washing is -long and involved. The ideas move in a lofty sphere, -seemingly very remote from the simple scene they prelude. -At first sight the reader is tempted to count the -introduction cumbrous, and to question the relevancy. -A more profound appreciation of its contents and connection -changes questioning into admiration, and transforms -perplexity into wondering delight. We perceive -how the thoughts of the prelude light up the whole -scene with a golden glow of human tenderness and -Divine grandeur, so that, like a picture set in its true -light, we now discern in it a depth of meaning and a -wealth of beauty previously unsuspected. The perplexing -preface proves to be the vestibule that leads -into the innermost shrine of the temple.</p> - -<p>The Gospel of St. John was not written till half a -century later than the events it records; yet it is -written as though it were but yesterday the Apostle -had witnessed the scenes he describes. Those recollections -had not been casual visitants, but constant -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">{271}</a></span> -inmates of his mind and heart. There was hardly ever -a day he had not thought about them. At night when -he lay awake and could not sleep he had thought about -them. He conned them over in memory, he pored -over them in his mind, he cherished them in his heart -lovingly. And the promise his Lord had given came -true to him, for the Holy Spirit took of these things of -Christ, and showed them unto him, so that they grew -to his eyes better and better, and more beautiful, and -more full of meaning, till their inmost heart of Divine -goodness was revealed to him. Ah! when we first get -to know Christ it is but His face, His eyes, His outer -form we see. That is a great sight! But to see and -know all the heart of God that was in Him—that takes -a very long time; it takes half a century; it takes -eternity to get at that! John lived in that high quest -almost all his life, gazing at the Master, worshipping -and adoring, laying his heart on the Master's heart; -and the result was that he got to know Jesus far better -than he did when he lived with Him. Hence it is that -the fourth Gospel is so different from the other three. -They just tell us what Jesus said and what Jesus did. -But John's Gospel mixes up the acts and words of -Jesus with John's own thoughts and explanations, so -that it is sometimes hardly possible to tell whether we -are reading what Jesus said or what John thought -about it. He is ever passing behind the loveliness of -the human life, to trace its explanation in the inner -heavenly nature. He paints for us the tree with its -beauteous branches, leaves, and blossoms, and then he -bids us behold the great root in God's earth out of -which it grew; that wonderful root, which is Divine, -and which is the source of all the sweetness that is -brightening the upper air. The Jesus of John's Gospel -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> -has more of God in the look of face and eyes, and in -the ring of His voice, than the Jesus of Matthew, Mark, -and Luke. It is the Jesus that lived and grew on in -John's loving memory, year by year becoming greater, -holier, Diviner in the illumination of the Holy Spirit, -that was brooding over that home of Christ in the -heart of John. It is, indeed, Jesus coloured by John's -thoughts and John's feelings; but then they are true -thoughts and true feelings. And so it is that sometimes, -in the evangel of the Beloved Disciple, we almost -lose sight of the outer form and familiar features of our -Lord, but only that we may see more clearly the glory -of His inner nature and the beauty of His heart -Divine.</p> - -<p>It is to this loving industry of John's mind that we -owe the preface of our story, so laden with great -thoughts. It bids us, before we scan the picture of our -Lord's humility, gaze into His heart, and see how that -night it was filled with contending emotions of exaltation -and agony, of tenderest devotion and unrequited -love, and then, in the light of His inner grandeur, grief, -and forlornness, measure the marvel of this wondrous -act of self-abasement. He who washed the feet of -those sinful men was the Son of God and the world's -Saviour. He made Himself their servant! He washed -their feet! But more than that, He was a dying man -that night, and He knew it. His hour was come. Already -the presaging pangs of the bloody sweat, of the -scourging and the spitting, of the anguish and forsakeness -of the cross, had broken like stormy waves of a -troubled sea on Christ's sensitive spirit. The pain, and -the parting, and the solemn awe of death had fallen -upon His soul. He was going to bid good-bye to the -faces He had loved, to the things that were so beautiful -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> -in His eyes, to the lilies and the birds, to those He had -clung to on earth, to mother, and brother, and friend, to -all that was sweet and dear to His human heart. His -thoughts were preoccupied that night. He was preparing -Himself for death. His heart was already getting -detached from earth. Oh, if ever there was an -hour when He might have been forgiven, if He had had -no thought but of Himself, it was that night! If ever -He might have held Himself exempt from thinking of -others, and expected them to think of Him, it was that -night. If ever there was an hour when He might have -counted selfishness unforgivable, and bitterly resented -want of sympathy, it was that night, when His grief -was so great and His love so warm and tender. And -yet, says John, it was on that night that amongst us -all, engrossed in our petty, selfish rivalry, He was the -one that could forget Himself, could lay pride aside, -and humble His heart, and do the lowly act that made -peace amongst us, and melted all our pride away, and -made us good, and loving, and fit to hear the wondrous -thoughts of grace and love that were glowing in His -heart for us and for all mankind.</p> - -<p>The lesson is one for good men and women. They -are too apt to think, because they have set out on some -great enterprise of goodness, that therefore they are -exempt from the little courtesies and forbearances of -lowlier service. They mean to do good, but they must -do it with a high hand and in a masterful fashion. -They cannot stoop to conciliate the lukewarm and to -win the unsympathetic. And so too often their cherished -purpose ends in failure, and we see that saddest -sight in Christ's Church—beautiful lives marred and -noble service spoiled, because the sacrifice is not complete -enough, because pride lingers in the heart, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">{274}</a></span> -self-assertion and selfishness. We cannot be faithful -in that which is greatest unless we are willing to be -faithful also that in which is least.</p> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read 2 Sam. xxiv., and John xxi. 15-23.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Wilful.</span>—John xiii. 6-10.</p> - -<p>The character of Peter stands clear cut in the Gospels. -He had a warm heart, an eager mind, an impulsive -will, a quick initiative, and a native aptitude for pre-eminence. -He took the lead almost unconsciously and -without premeditation, but none the less he was conscious -of a keen pleasure in being first. Prominence -with him was not a choice of calculation, but rather an -innate instinct and necessity of nature. Alike by what -was best and by what was worst in him, it was natural -for Peter to stand out from the rest, and whether right -or wrong, to be their spokesman, champion, and chief.</p> - -<p>As Jesus went round, washing the disciples' feet, -there was perfect stillness in the room. None ventured -to speak in explanation or remonstrance till He came -to Peter. But as He prepared to kneel down behind -him, Peter stopped Him with a protest: "Lord, dost -thou wash my feet?" It looks on the face of it altogether -good, and pure, and manly. But then Christ -was no narrow-hearted pedant, eager to find fault, and -imagining offence where none existed. Yet Peter's -protest, instead of being approved, is gently but firmly -refused. "What I do thou dost not understand now, -but thou shalt understand presently." Beneath the fair -surface of the remonstrance there must have been some -unlovely thing that had to be rebuked away. What -was the jarring chord? Had Peter's motive been contrition, -and contrition only, would he have waited till it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">{275}</a></span> -came to his turn? Would he not have leapt to his feet -at once, and insisted on taking the Master's place, and -washing the feet of them all? Did he sit still, ashamed -for himself and them, but angrily ashamed, resolving -first that he would not basely allow his Lord to demean -Himself, then thinking hard things of the others, who -suffered it without protest? And so, when it came to -his turn, was his heart full of censorious thoughts, and -a proud resolve that he would come out of the humiliation -better than the rest? If, without breach of charity, -we may take this to have been his mood, then we can -understand Christ's kindly deprecation of his words -and act. He fancied his impulse all good and noble. -He did not know the treachery of his own heart. He -did not fathom the necessity for the humbling experience -of having to be washed by his Master. With the -cleansing of his feet in simple obedience, his heart -would be cleansed also of pride and of anger. Then -he would understand what his Master was doing, and -how He had to do it to put right so much that was -wrong in the heart of His wayward follower.</p> - -<p>It is not easy to obey without understanding. -What was noble in Peter, and what was base, combined -to hold him back from yielding. Peter's love recoiled -from the humbling of his Master. Peter's pride shrank -from the humbling of himself. "Thou shalt never -wash my feet." Truly a noble, proud refusal! There -was in it a strange mixture of good and evil. Peter -wanted to come back to right, but he wished to come -in his own way. Christ's way was painful, and the -disciple would fain choose another that did not lead -through the Valley of Humiliation. But then, if you -have gone wrong through pride you cannot get right again -and yet keep your pride. If you would be good you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">{276}</a></span> -must abase yourself. Peter's refusal meant that his -spirit still was not quite subdued, his heart not quite -humble and contrite. In that mood he could not enter -into the sacred communion of his Master's dying love. -With that spirit cherished and maintained he could -not belong to His fellowship. "If I wash thee not, -thou hast no part with Me."</p> - -<p>Christ knew Peter's heart. The man loved his Master -with a passionate personal attachment. These words -fell on his spirit with a sudden chill. To have no -part with Christ—that was more than he could bear. -"Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my -head." It is as though he would say, "A great part -in Thee!" And we might readily count the request -blameless, and the mood that uttered it commendable -only. But Jesus declines it, and in refusing suggests -that it has in it something of unreality and excess. So -then, without his knowing it, there must have lurked in -the thought Peter's love of pre-eminence. First of all, -he had wished to differ from the others in not being -washed at all. Now that he must be washed, he would -be the most washed of all. Ah, the subtle danger of -wanting to be first, even in goodness! We cannot -safely try to be good for the sake of being foremost. -We must be good just for goodness' sake, with no -thought of self at all. And surely silent submission -had become Peter better than any speech. When a -man knows he has gone wrong again and again, and -Christ has undertaken to set him right, his wisdom is -to offer no resistance, nor make any suggestion, as if -he knew better than Jesus what had best be done.</p> - -<p>Self-will in choosing the way in which we are to be -saved and sanctified is a blunder from which few are -quite free. We cannot leave our souls simply in God's -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">{277}</a></span> -care and teaching. We catch at Christ's hands, and -distrust the simplicity of His grace, and dictate to the -Holy Spirit the experience and discipline we deem best. -Surely it is not becoming and it is not wise. When a -man has been taken into God's hands, and has been -forgiven his sins, and is being taught by God, he should -just keep very still and very humble, and let God make -of him what He will.</p> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read 1 Sam. xxiv., and Luke xxii. 47-62.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Faithless.</span>—John xiii. 11.</p> - -<p>Jesus enjoined us to love our enemies. We count it -a hard saying. An enemy is not lovable. The sight -of him wakes instinctively not affection, but antagonism. -It is not easy to wish him well, to do him good. We -find it difficult to endure his presence without show of -repugnance. Still harder is it to pity him, to help him, -to do him a service. But there is something worse -than an enemy, something more repulsive, more unforgivable. -That is a traitor—the faithless friend, who -pretends affection with malice in his breast, who receives -our love while he is plotting our ruin, and under -cover of a caress stabs us to the heart. Open hostility -may be met, resented, and forgotten, but cold-blooded -treachery our human nature stamps as the all but -unpardonable sin. Its presence is revolting, and its -touch loathsome. An honest heart sickens at the sight -of it.</p> - -<p>Among the guests gathered around the table, that -night before our Lord's death, was Judas, who betrayed -Him. He had sold his Master for thirty pieces of -silver, and was watching his opportunity to complete -the covenant of blood. He sat there while Jesus washed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">{278}</a></span> -their feet. Jesus knew all his falseness, all his heartlessness, -all his treachery. He knew it, and He washed -the traitor's feet.</p> - -<p>The perfection of our Lord's holiness is apt to mislead -us into the idea that because it was faultless, it -was therefore easy. We conceive His goodness as -spontaneous, His sinlessness as without effort. But in -truth He was a man tempted in all points like as we -are. He was obedient unto death, but His obedience -He learned by the things which He suffered. He was -perfect in purity, meekness, self-denial, but only by -humbling Himself and crucifying the flesh. His self-control -was absolute, but it cost Him as much as it does -us—perchance more. His sinless, holy heart shrank -from sin's foulness, and suffered in its loathsome contact -as our stained souls cannot. The base presence -and false fellowship of a Judas must have been a -perpetual pain to His pure spirit. But He endured his -meanness with a heavenly self-restraint that curbed -each sign of repugnance, and to the last He maintained -for the traitor a Divine compassion that would have -saved him from himself, and that in Jesus's nature -compelled the very instincts of loathing to transform -themselves into quite marvellous ministries of superhuman -loving. It was no empty show of humility and -kindness, it was pity and love incarnate, when Jesus -knelt at Judas's back, and washed the feet of His -betrayer.</p> - -<p>That seems to me one of the most wondrous, most -tragic scenes in this world's story. Could we but have -seen it—Jesus kneeling behind Judas, laving his feet -with water, touching them with His hands, wiping -them gently dry, and the traitor keeping still through -it all! What a theme for the genius of a painter—the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">{279}</a></span> -face of Jesus and the face of Judas—the emotions -of grandeur looking out of the one, of good and evil -contending in the other! If anything could have -broken the traitor's heart, and made him throw himself -in penitent abasement on the Saviour's pity, it was -when he felt on his feet his Master's warm breath and -gentle touch, and divined all the forgiving love that -was in His lowly heart.</p> - -<p>This was our Lord's treatment of a faithless friend. -On the night of His betrayal He washed the feet of -His bitterest enemy, of the man who had sold Him -to death. He rises from that act, and speaks to you -and me, and says, "I have given you an example, -that ye should do as I have done to you." If you -have a friend that has deceived you, do not hate him; -if you have an enemy, forgive him; if you can do -him a humble kindness, do it; if you can soften and -save him by lowly forbearance, be pitiful and long-suffering -to the uttermost. It is the law of Christ. If -you call it too hard for flesh and blood, remember how -your Master, that night He was betrayed, washed the -feet of the man that betrayed Him</p> - -<h3>V.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Isa. xl., and 1 Cor. xiii.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Secret of Magnanimity.</span>—John xiii. 12-17.</p> - -<p>There is a contagious quality in greatness. Young -hearts, generous souls, dwelling in the vicinity of a -hero, are apt to catch his thoughts, and words, and -ways. Christ's greatness is His goodness, and that -is absolute. Men look at Jesus, behold His perfection, -grow to love Him, and hardly knowing how, become -like Him. We see His tranquillity, whose minds are -so perturbed by life's worries and men's wrongs. We -wonder at His infinite peace, whose hearts are so hot -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> -and restless with the world's rivalries and ambitions. -Our spirits, tired, and hurt, and fevered, gaze wistfully -at the great serenity of His gentle life, and ere we -know it a strange longing steals into our breast to -learn His secret and find rest unto our souls. Plainly -the panacea does not consist in any change outside us, -for, do what we will, still in every lot there will be -crooks and crosses that cannot be haughtily brushed -aside, that can only be robbed of their sting by being -humbly borne and patiently endured. Moreover, the -world was not least, but most unkind to Him, yet could -not mar His peace, nor poison the sweetness of His -soul. Within Himself lay the talisman of His charmed -life, the hidden spring of His unchanging goodness. -It was the spell of a lowly, loving, and loyal heart. -This is the key to the enigma of His perfect patience. -He loved us, and He gave Himself for us. And so, -whether His friends were gentle and obedient or wayward -and rebellious, whether they were kind and -sympathetic or cold, and hard, and selfish, whether they -were good or evil, He remained unchanged and unchangeable. -"Having loved His own which were in -the world, He loved them unto the end."</p> - -<p>The machinery of life is not simple, but complex and -intricate. In its working there cannot but be much -friction. If the strains and jars of social existence are -to be borne without irritation and ill-will, there must -be between us and our neighbours a plentiful supply -of the oil of human kindness. The pressure and constraint -that from a stranger would be irksome or -unendurable become tolerable or even gladsome when -borne for one we love. Did we, as God meant us to -do, love our neighbour as ourself, life's burdens would -seem light, for love makes all things easy. But then -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">{281}</a></span> -the difficulty just is to love our neighbour as ourself. -Here, as elsewhere, it is the first step that costs. For -too often our neighbour is not lovable, but hateful, and -our own self is so much nearer to us than any neighbour -can be. Its imperious demands silence his claims -on our kindness, and drown the calls of duty. Its -exuberant growth overshadows his, and robs him of -the sunshine. Its intense acquisitiveness absorbs all -our care and interest, all our sympathy and affection, -so that we have no time or heart to spare for his -exactions—no, not even for his necessities. Clearly in -this inordinate love of self is the root of the wrong and -unrest of our life. Because we love our own self too -much, we love others too little to be able to be generous -and good like Christ. Wrapped up unduly in selfish -anxiety for our own happiness and dignity, we become -too sensitive to the injuries of foes, the slights of -friends, the cuts and wounds of fortune. The reason -why we lack the lowliness of Jesus, and miss the blessedness -of His heavenly peace, is our refusal to take -up the cross and follow Him in the pathway of self-sacrifice. -It was His detachment from self that made -Him invulnerable to wounds, imperturbable amid wrongs, -good and kind to the evil and to the froward. Because -He cared much for others and little for Himself, He -was lifted above the strife and restless emulation of -our self-seeking lives. The charm that changed for -Him the storm of life into a great calm was the simple -but potent spell of self-renunciation.</p> - -<p>The thought is one that captivates fresh hearts and -noble souls with the fascination of a revelation. It -seems to unlock all doors, to break all bars, and to lift -from life its mysterious burden of perplexity and pain. -The pathway of renunciation opens before their eyes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">{282}</a></span> -with an indefinable charm, unfolding boundless vistas -of lofty achievement, haunted by sweet whispers of a -joy and content, dreamt of many a time, but never -before attained. It is a fond delusion, that experience -soon dispels. At the outset the way glows with the -rosy light of a new dawn, and our footsteps are light -with the bounding life of a fresh springtide; but ere -many miles are traversed the road becomes hard and -rough, and we, with heavy hearts, drag hot and dusty -feet along a weary way. For the way of the Cross -has indeed blessedness at the end of it, but easy it -cannot be till it is ended. To curb our pride, to crush -our self-seeking, to conquer passion, to quell ambition, -to crucify the flesh—these things are not easy. They -have the stern stress and strain of battle in them. To -be patient under injuries, to suffer slights and wrongs, -to take the lowest place without a murmur, are conquests -that demand a strong heart and a great mind. -Where shall we learn a serenity that can be disturbed -by no trouble, where find a peace that disappointment -cannot break, where reach a goodness that no wrong -can ruffle? What is the secret of magnanimity?</p> - -<p>The answer comes to us from John's picture of his -Lord's humility. In the forefront we behold Jesus -kneeling on the ground and washing His disciples' -feet, and we wonder at such lowliness. But now -John's finger points, and our eyes rest on the heart of -this lowly Saviour, and reverently we read His thoughts. -"Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things -into His hands, and that He was come from God and -went to God," washed the disciples' feet. There is -at once the marvel of His condescension and its explanation. -He was so great He could afford to abase himself. -His followers stood on their dignity, and jealously -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">{283}</a></span> -guarded their rank. He was sure of His position. -Nothing could affect His Divine dignity. He came -from God; He was going to God. What mattered it -what happened to Him, what place He held, what -humiliation He endured, in the brief snatch of earthly -life between? And we, if we would be great-minded -like Him, must have the same high faith, the same -heavenly consciousness. We must know that this -world, with its wrongs and disappointments, is not all; -that this life, with its pride and pomps, is but a passing -show. We must remember ever the grander world -beyond, the infinite life within, and even now, amid -the glare and din of time, live in and for eternity. -Then we should no longer fret for a thousand trifles -that vex us, we should not trouble for all the wrongs -that pain and grieve us. What dignity, what grandeur, -what Divine nobility there would be in every thought, in -every word, in every deed of all our life on earth, were -the consciousness ever glowing in our hearts that we -too came from God and are going back to God!</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">{284}</a></div> - - -<h2>XVI.<br /> -<i>A HYMN OF HEART'S EASE.</i></h2> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">Sunday Readings for the Month.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse quote2">"Lord, my heart is not haughty,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor mine eyes lofty:</div> -<div class="verse">Neither do I exercise myself in great matters,</div> -<div class="verse">Or in things too high for me.</div> -<div class="verse">Surely I have behaved</div> -<div class="verse">And quieted myself;</div> -<div class="verse">As a child that is weaned of its mother,</div> -<div class="verse">My soul is even as a weaned child.</div> -<div class="verse">Let Israel hope in the Lord</div> -<div class="verse">From henceforth and for ever."—Ps. cxxxi.</div> -</div> - -</div> -</div> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Job xxvi., and 1 Cor. xiii.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Source of Unrest.</span><br /> -"Things too high for me."</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">We are apt to think and speak as if difficulty of -faith were an experience peculiar to our age. -It is indeed true that at particular periods speculative -uncertainty has been more widely diffused than at others, -and our own age may be one of them. But the real -causes of perplexity in things religious are permanent -and unchanging, having their roots deep-seated in the -essential nature of man's relation to the world and to -God. There has never been a time when men have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">{285}</a></span> -not had to fight hard battles for their faith against the -dark mysteries and terrors of existence, that pressed -in upon their souls and threatened to enslave them. -What is this brief Psalm, echoing like a sea-shell in its -tiny circle the heart-beat of a vanished world, but the -pathetic record of a soul's dread struggle with doubt -and darkness, telling in its simple rhythm and quiet -cadences the story how through the breakers of unbelief -it fought its way to the firm shores of faith, and -peace, and hope? It reads like a tale of yesterday. It -is just what we are seeking, suffering, achieving. Yet -more than two thousand years have come and gone -since the brain that thought and the hand that wrote -have mouldered into dust.</p> - -<p>The poem must have been penned at a time when the -poet's own misfortunes, or the general disorders of the -age, were such as seemed to clash irreconcilably with -his preconceived notions of God's goodness, character, -and purposes. The shock of this collision between fact -and theory shook to its foundations the structure of his -inherited creed, and opened great fissures of questioning -in the fabric of his personal faith. He was tempted -to abandon the believing habits of a religious training -and the confiding instincts of a naturally devout heart, -and either to doubt the being and power of the Almighty, -or to deny His wisdom and beneficence. For a long -time he was tossed hither and thither on the alternate -ebb and flow of questioning denial and believing affirmation, -finding nowhere any firm foothold amid the -unstable tumult of conflicting evidence and inconclusive -reasoning. At last out of the confusion there dawned -on his mind a growing persuasion of something clear -and certain. He perceived that not only was the -balance of evidence indecisive, but also that the issue -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">{286}</a></span> -never could but be indeterminate. For he saw that the -method itself was impotent, and could never reach or -unravel the themes of his agonised questioning. A -settled conviction forced itself upon his mind that there -are in life problems no human ingenuity can solve, -questions that baffle man's intellect to comprehend, -"great matters, and things too high" for him. It was a -discovery startling, strange, and painful. But at least -it was something solid and certain; it was firm land, on -which one's feet might be planted. Moreover, it was -not an ending, but a beginning, a starting-point that -led somewhere. Perchance it might prove to be the -first step in a rocky pathway, that should guide his -footsteps to heights of clearer light and wider vision, -where the heart, if not the intellect, might reach a solution -of its questioning and enter into rest. The quest he -had commenced had turned out a quest of the unattainable, -but it had brought him to a real and profitable -discovery. He had recognised and accepted once and -for ever the fact of the fixed and final limitation of -human knowledge.</p> - -<p>It is an experience all men have to make, an experience -that grows with age and deepens with wisdom, -as we more and more encounter the mysteries of -existence, and fathom the shallowness of our fancied -knowledge. What do we know of God, the world, -ourselves? How much, and how little! How much -about them, how little of them! Who of us, for instance, -has any actual conception of God in His absolute being? -You remember how in dreamy childhood you would -vainly strive to arrest and fasten in some definite image -the vague vision of dazzling glory you had learned to -call God, which floated before your soul, awing you with -its majesty and immeasurable beauty, but evading every -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">{287}</a></span> -effort to grasp it. With gathering years and widening -horizon you watched the world's changeful aspects and -ceaseless movements, till nature seemed the transparent -vesture of its mighty Maker, but it was all in -vain that you tried to pierce the thin veil and behold -the invisible Worker within. You took counsel with -science, and it told you much concerning the properties -of matter and the sequences of force, but the ultimate -cause, that which is beneath, that which worketh all in -all, it could not reveal. You turned to philosophy, and -you traced the soaring thoughts of the sages, that -rushed upward like blazing rockets, as if they would -pierce and illuminate the remotest heaven; but you saw -how, ere they reached that far goal, their fire went out, -their light was quenched, and they fell back through -the darkness, baffled and spent. You betook yourself -to revelation, counting that at last you were entering -the inner shrine, and you did indeed learn much that -was new and precious; but soon came the discovery that -here also we do but see through a glass darkly, and -that our best knowledge of God is no more than a -knowledge in part. "Lo, these are but the outskirts of -His ways; and how small a portion we know of them! -But the thunder of His power, who can understand?" -We are, as it were, surrounded on every hand by -mighty mountain peaks, whose rocky sides foil every -effort to explore the pinnacles that lie hidden in distant -cloud and mist. The achievements of the human intellect -are many and marvellous, but above and beyond -its realm remain, and doubtless ever shall remain, -"great matters, and things too high" for us.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">{288}</a></div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Ps. xxxvii., and Matt. xi.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Secret of Rest.</span><br /> -"Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty."</p> - -<p>There is in the human intellect an insatiable eagerness -and an indomitable energy of acquisitiveness. It -carries in its consciousness an ineradicable instinct of -domination, that spurs it to boundless enterprise and -prompts it to spurn defeat. This lordly quality of the -human mind is the natural outcome of its sovereignty -over the physical creation, and the appropriate expression -of its kinship with the Creator. It is part of man's -Divine birthright, and the insignia of his nobility. But -it brings with it the peril of all special prerogative, the -inevitable temptation that accompanies the possession -of power. It tends to breed a haughtiness that is -restive of restraint, a self-sufficiency that forgets its -own boundaries, and an arrogance that refuses to wield -the sceptre of aught but an unlimited empire. So it -comes to pass, when reason in its restless research is -brought to a stop by the invisible but very actual -confines of human knowledge, it resents the suggestion -of limitation, and declines to accept the arrest of its -onward march. The temptation that besets it is twofold. -On the one hand, pride, irritated by the check, -but too clear-sighted to ignore it, is tempted to refuse -to admit any truths it cannot fathom or substantiate, -and to deny the real existence of any realm of being -beyond its natural ken. This is the characteristic -error of Rationalism and Positivism. On the other -hand, there is in the opposite direction a tendency, born -equally of intellectual pride and self-will, to refuse the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">{289}</a></span> -restriction, to ignore reason's incapacity, and so to -venture to state and explain that which is inexplicable. -Alike in the spheres of science and of religion men -strive recklessly to remove from God's face the veil -which His own hand has not drawn, and irreverently -intrude into mysteries hopelessly beyond human thought -to conceive or human speech to express. This is the -transgression of rash speculation and of arrogant -dogmatism, and it is in itself as sinful, and in its -consequences as harmful, as are the blank negations of -scepticism.</p> - -<p>Each of these errors the author of our poem was -fortunate enough to escape. Recognising the limitation -of all earthly knowledge, he does not rage against the -restrictions and beat himself against the environing -bars. He does not take it on himself, by a foolish fiat -of his finite littleness, to decree the non-existence of -everything too subtle for his dim eyes to perceive, or -too fine for his dull ear to hear. Where he fails to -understand the wisdom or goodness of God's ways he -does not intrude and try to alter them, neither does he -wildly struggle to comprehend their meaning, nor madly -refuse to submit to them. He adapts himself to the -Divine dealing, and is content to obey without insisting -on knowing the reason why. He curbs in the cravings -of his mind, nor will suffer the swift stream of his -thought to rush on like an impetuous torrent, dashing -itself against obstructing rocks, and fretting its waters -into froth and foam. He possesses his soul in patience, -and does not "exercise" himself "in great matters, or -in things too high" for him.</p> - -<p>This attitude of acquiescence is the position imposed -on us by necessity, and prescribed by wisdom. But, -as a matter of fact, its practical possession depends on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">{290}</a></span> -the presence of a certain inner mood or disposition. -We have seen that the denials of scepticism and the -excesses of dogmatism are alike the offspring of pride, -and spring from an over-estimation of the potency of -reason. Therefore, as we might expect, the poet's -simple acceptance of limitation and contentment with -partial knowledge are due to the fact that he has -formed a modest estimate of himself. "Lord, my -heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty." His submission -to restraint has its root in humility. He does -not exaggerate his capacity. He takes the measure of -his mind accurately. He does not expect to be able to -accomplish more than his abilities are equal to. It -seems to him quite natural that men should not be -able to comprehend all God's ways. It is to be expected -that there should be many things in God's operations -beyond their knowledge, and in his thoughts passing -their understanding. It is, therefore, no matter for -surprise that men should encounter in God's universe -"great matters," and "things too high" for them. Nay, -the wonder and disappointment would be if there were -no mysteries, no infinitudes, transcending our narrow -souls. Would it gladden you if indeed God were no -greater than our thoughts of Him? What if the sun -were no brighter and no vaster than the shrunken, dim, -and tarnished image of his radiance framed in a child's -toy mirror? Alas for us if God and the universe -were not immeasurably grander than mankind's most -majestic conceptions of them! Measuring ourselves -thus, in truth and lowliness, over against God, who -will not say, with the poet of our Psalm, "Lord, my -heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty: neither do I -exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high -for me"?</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">{291}</a></div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Ps. lxxiii., and Heb. xii.<br /> -<span class="smc">Calm after Storm.</span><br /> -"Surely I have behaved and quieted myself."</p> - -<p>Peace bulks largely in all our dreams of ideal -happiness. Without repose of heart we cannot conceive -of perfect contentment. But we must not forget -that the peace of inexperience is a fragile possession, -and that the only lasting rest is the repose that is based -upon conquest. We speak with languid longing and -ease-seeking envy of the peace of Jesus, because we -forget that His peace was a peace constituted out of -conflict, maintained in the face of struggle, and made -perfect through suffering. Therefore it was a peace -strong and majestic, and the story of His life is the -world's greatest epic. A life that commenced with -effortless attainment, proceeded in easy serenity, and -ended in tranquillity were a life without a history, -pleasant but monotonous, devoid of dramatic interest, -and destitute of significance. The young cadet, in his -boyish bloom and unworn beauty, furnishes the painter -with a fairer model, but the grizzled hero of a hundred -fights, with his battered form and furrowed face, makes -the greater picture. It means so much more. And it -means more precisely because the tried valour of the -veteran is so much more than the promise of the untested -tyro. Innocence unsullied and untried has a -loveliness all its own, but it lacks the pathos of suggestion, -the depth of significance, and the strength of -permanence that make the glory of virtue that has -borne the brunt of battle, and has known the bitterness -of defeat, the agony of retrieval, and the exultation -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">{292}</a></span> -of recovered victory. We talk proudly of the faith that -has never felt a doubt, that has been pierced by no -perplexity, and shows no mark of the sweat and stress -of conflict. We look askance on difficulty of faith, -have no mercy on lack of assurance, and reckon them -happy who are convinced without trouble and believe -without effort. That is not quite the Bible estimate. -The Psalms echo with the prayers of hard-pressed -faith, and throb with the cries of agonised doubt. The -New Testament speaks of faith as a fight, counts them -happy who endure, and pronounces blessed the man -who encounters and overcomes temptation. If "strait -is the gate and narrow is the way that leadeth unto -life," how should faith be easy, since faith is that gate, -that way? The truth is that we invert the Divine -standard of values, and put last what God puts first. -We count enviable the land-locked harbours of unthreatened -belief, that are protected from assault by their -very shallowness and narrowness. We are blind to -the providential discipline which ordains that men should -wrestle with difficulty, and in overcoming it attain a -tried and tempered faith possible only to those who -have passed through the furnace of temptation. For -sinful men there can be no real strength that is not -transmuted weakness, no permanent peace that is not a -triumph over rebellion, no perfect faith that is not a -victory over doubt. The saints that have most reflected -the spirit of Christ formed their fair character, like -their Master, in lives of which it may be said, "Without -were fightings, within were fears." The way of the -cross has ever been a way of conflict, and it is they -who come out of great tribulation that enter into the -rest that remaineth. The deep lakes that sleep in the -hollows of high mountains, and mirror in their placid -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">{293}</a></span> -depths the quiet stars, have their homes in the craters -of volcanoes, that have spent their fury, quenched their -fires, and are changed into pools of perpetual peace.</p> - -<p>There breathes through our Psalm an atmosphere -of infinite repose—a subdued rest, like the hush of a -cradle song. Nevertheless, if we listen closely enough -to its music, we catch under its lullaby the low echo -of a bygone anguish, the lingering sob of a vanished -tempest. Nature's most exquisite embodiment of calm -is the sweet fresh air that is left by a great storm; -and the perfection of the Psalm's restfulness is that it -consists of unrest conquered and transmuted. For the -poet's peace is the result of a great struggle, the -reward of a supreme act of self-subjection. "Surely -I have behaved and quieted myself;" or, preserving -the imagery of the words, "Surely I have calmed and -hushed my soul." His submissiveness had not been -native, but acquired. His lowliness of heart was not -a natural endowment, but a laborious accomplishment. -His acquiescence in God's mysterious ways was a thing -not inborn and habitual, but was rather the calm that -follows a storm, when the tempest has moaned itself -into stillness, and the great waves have rocked themselves -into unruffled rest. For his soul had once been -rebellious, like a storm-lashed sea dashing itself against -the iron cliffs that bounded its waves, and impetuous -like a tempest rushing through the empty air, seeking -to attain the unattainable, and spending its force vainly -in vacancy. He had longed to flash thought, lightning -like, athwart the thick darkness that surrounded -Jehovah's throne, and to lay bare its hidden secrets. -It was all in vain. Hemmed in on every hand, beaten -back in his attempts to pierce the high heaven, baffled -in every effort to read the enigma of God's ways, he -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">{294}</a></span> -had been tempted to revolt, and either to renounce his -trust in the Almighty's goodness or to refuse to submit -to His control. It cost him a hard and weary struggle -to regain his reliance, to restore his allegiance, to calm -and hush his soul.</p> - -<p>There was nothing wonderful in this conflict, nor -anything exceptional in the experience. It is the -common lot of men. True, there are some natures for -whom the tenure of faith is less arduous than it is for -others. But in almost every life there come crises -when this same battle has to be fought. For it is not -always easy to be content to trust without seeing, and -to follow God's leading in the dark, when the way -seems all wrong and mistaken. There are things in -life that rudely shake our faith from its dreamless -slumber, and sweep the soul away over the dreary -billows of doubt and darkness. There are times when, -to our timorous hearts, it seems too terrible to be -compelled just to trust and not to understand. Such -conflicts come to us all more or less. Painful and -protracted the struggle sometimes is, but not necessarily -evil, not even harmful. For if we do but fight it out -honestly and bravely the fruits will be, as they were -with our poet, wholesome, good, and peaceable.</p> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Ps. xlvi., and Phil. ii.<br /> -<span class="smc">Victory by Surrender.</span><br /> -"As a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child."</p> - -<p>It is good to cheer men on in a noble strife by speaking -of the certainty of victory, and by the story of -heroic deeds to nerve their arms for battle and stir -their hearts to war. But that is not enough. They -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">{295}</a></span> -want more than that. They want to learn how to -wage a winning war, how to secure the highest triumph, -how out of conflict to organise peace. In the good -fight of faith what is the secret of success? Has our -Psalm any light on that point? By what method did -the poet still the turmoil of his doubt and reach his -great peace? The process is finely pictured in a -homely but exquisite image: "Like a weaned child on -its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me." -What does that mean? Torn by an insatiable longing -to know the meaning of God's mysterious ways, he -had struggled fiercely to wring an answer from the -Almighty. His heart was long the abode of unrest, -and storm, and tempest. At length peace falls on the -fray; there is no more clangour of contention: all is -quietness and rest. How is this? Has he succeeded -in solving the enigmas that pained him? Have his -cravings for an answer from God been gratified? If -not, how has he attained this perfect repose? His -peace is the peace of a weaned child. Not, therefore, -by obtaining that which he craved has he found rest; -for the rest of a weaned child is not that of gratification, -but of resignation. It is the repose, not of satisfied -desire, but of abnegation and submission. After a -period of prolonged and painful struggle to have its -longings answered, the little one gives over striving -any more, and is at peace. That process was a picture -to our poet of what passed in his own heart. Like a -weaned child, its tears over, its cries hushed, reposing -on the very bosom that a little ago excited its most -tumultuous desires, his soul, that once passionately -strove to wring from God an answer to its eager questionings, -now wearied, resigned, and submissive, just -lays itself to rest in simple faith on that goodness of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">{296}</a></span> -God whose purposes it cannot comprehend, and whose -ways often seem to it harsh, and ravelled, and obscure. -It is a picture of infinite repose and of touching beauty—the -little one nestling close in the mother's arms, its -head reclining trustfully on her shoulder, the tears -dried from its now quiet face, and the restful eyes, with -just a lingering shadow of bygone sorrow in them still, -peering out with a look of utter peace, contentment, -and security. It is the peace of accepted pain, the -victory of self-surrender.</p> - -<p>The transition from doubt to belief, from strife to -serenity, is remarkable. We want to know what produced -this startling change of mood, what influences -fostered it, what motives urged it, what reasons -justified it. Perhaps a glimpse, a suggestion of the -process is hinted in the simile chosen from child life. -The infant takes its rest on the breast of its mother—of -its mother, whose refusal of its longings caused it -all the pain and conflict, whose denial of its instinctive -desires seemed so unnatural and so cruel. How is it, -then, that instead of being alienated, the child turns to -her for solace in the sorrow she caused, and reposes -on the very breast that so resolutely declined to supply -its wants? It is because over against this single act -of seeming unkindness stand unnumbered deeds of -goodness and acts of fondness, and so this one cause -of doubt and of aversion is swallowed up in a whole -atmosphere of unceasing tenderness and love. Besides, -rating the apparent unmotherliness at the very highest, -still there is no other to whom the child can turn that -will better help it and care for it than its mother. So, -since it cannot get all it would like, the little one is -content to take what it may have—the warmth, and -shelter, and security of its mother's breast.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">{297}</a></div> - -<p>This process of conflict between doubt and trust, -rebellion and resignation, which half-unconsciously -takes place in the child, is a miniature of the strife that -had surged to and fro in the poet's soul. Pained and -perplexed by the mystery of God's ways, foiled in his -efforts to fathom them, denied all explanation by the -Almighty, he was beset by the temptation to abandon -faith and cast off his allegiance to his heavenly Friend. -But he saw that that would not solve any enigma or -lighten the darkness. Rather it would confront him -with still greater difficulties, and leave the world only -more empty, dark, and dreary. Then, benumbed and -tired out, he gave over thinking and arguing, and was -content for a little just to live in the circle of light -and sunshine that ever is within the great darkness. -Gradually it dawned upon him that in the world of -men's experience there was much, very much, of goodness -that could only be the doing of the God that -moves in the mystery and in the darkness. The -warmth of the thought crept into his heart, softer -feelings woke, love and lowliness asserted themselves, -and at length he became content to just trust God, -spite of all perplexities, partly because there was so -much undeniable proof of His tenderness, and partly -because there was more of rest and comfort in this -course than in any other.</p> - -<h3>V.</h3> - -<p class="center small">Read Gen. xxxii., and Rev. vii.<br /> -<span class="smc">The Recompense of Faith.</span><br /> -"Let Israel hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever."</p> - -<p>Who has not wondered why there is so much -mystery in the universe, such perplexity in our life, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> -and in revelation itself why so many doubts are -permitted to assail our souls and make it hard for -us to be Christians? Is this wisely or kindly ordered? -Perchance it is necessary, but is it not evil? Can -warfare ever be aught but loss and not gain? The -question is natural, but the answer is not uncertain. -The fight of faith is a good fight. Success means no -bare victory, but one crowned with splendid spoil. -We shall be the better for having had to fight. The -gain of the conflict shall out-weigh all the loss, and in -the final triumph the victors shall manifestly appear -more than conquerors. This is no paradox, but the -common law of life. The same principle rules in the -homely image of the child. Weaning is not needless -pain, is not wasted suffering. It is a blessing in -disguise. The distressing process is in truth promotion. -It is the vestibule of pain that leads to a -maturer and larger life. In like fashion the struggles -of doubt are inevitable, if faith is not to remain feeble -and infantile. Only in the furnace of affliction does it -acquire its finest qualities. Were there no clouds and -darkness around God's throne, how should men learn -humility and practise reverence? Human nature is -too coarse a thing to be entrusted with perfect knowledge. -A religion of knowledge only were a hard and -soulless thing, devoid of grace, and life, and love; for -sight and reason leave nothing for the imagination, and -rob affection of its sweet prerogative to dream and to -adore. Without the discipline of toil and the developing -strain of antagonism, how should faith grow strong, -and broad, and deep? Most of us start in the life -religious with an inherited, fostered, unreasoning belief, -which therefore is weak, puny, and unstable. It -is the storms of doubt and difficulty that rouse it to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">{299}</a></span> -self-consciousness, stir it to activity, urge it by exertion -to growth and expansion, and compel it to strike deep -roots in the soil of reality. For in such conflict the -soul is driven in upon God. It is forced to make -actual proof of its possessions, to realise and employ -properties that hitherto were known to it only through -the title-deeds or as mere assets available in case of -necessity. With wonder faith discovers the rare value -of its inheritance, and enters for the first time into -actual enjoyment of its spiritual treasures. It is no -longer faith about God, but is now faith in God. In -its agony and helplessness the soul is compelled to -press close up to God, to take tighter hold of His hand, -to fling itself on Him for help and comfort, just as a -sick child clings to its mother. And ever after such a -struggle there are a fresh beauty and sacredness in its -relation to God. There is that pathetic tenderness of -affection friends have who by some misunderstanding -were well-nigh sundered, but having overcome it, are -nearer and dearer to each other than ever before. -There are a quiet community of knowledge, and a restful -confidentiality of affection, that were not there before, -that come of having had to fight that you might not be -severed from each other. The recoil of joy from the -dread of loss, and the memory of the agony that thought -was to you, make God dearer to you now than ever. -Out of the very strife and doubt there is born a new -assurance of your love, in the consciousness you have -acquired of the pain it would be to you to be deprived -of your Divine Friend.</p> - -<p>The experience is of general application. It is the -secret of serenity amid the world's mystery and life's -pain and perplexity. Therefore, when at any time the -clouds gather around you, and their blackness seems to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">{300}</a></span> -darken on the very face of God, do not turn away in -terror or anger, but cling the faster to Him, even if it be -by the extreme hem of His garment. What wonder if -your feeble eye fails to read clear and true each majestic -feature of that Divine face which is so infinitely high -above you? What matter if sometimes its radiance is -obscured by the chill fogs and creeping vapours of -earth's mingled atmosphere? The darkness is not on -God's face, but beneath it. One day you shall rise -higher, and you shall see Him as He is. Meantime, in -your gloomiest hour, when overwhelming doubts, like -hissing waves, wind and coil around your heart, and -seek to pluck it from its hold, then do but let all other -things go, and with your last energy cling to this -central, sovereign certainty, that whatever else is true, -this at least is sure, that God is good, and that He -whose doings you cannot comprehend is your Father. -And so, weary of dashing yourself vainly against the -bulwarks of darkness that girdle His throne, be content -to lay yourself down humbly as a tired child on the -breast of your heavenly Father. Thus, with your questionings -unanswered, with the darkness not rolled away, -with a thousand problems all unsolved, be quieted, be -hushed, be at peace. Lay down your head, your weary, -aching head, on the great heart of God, and be at rest.</p> - -<p>Doing this, you shall reach not merely passive resignation, -but joy, and peace, and trust. For of humble -submission hope is born. "Let Israel hope in the -Lord from henceforth and for ever." Perchance all -you can do now is just, in weariness, more out of helpless -despair than active expectancy, to fall back on a -faint, broken-hearted trust in God's goodness. It is an -act of faith, poor enough, in truth, but it holds in it the -promise and potency of a better confidence. For it is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">{301}</a></span> -into the arms of God that it carries you. Resting there -in the lap of His infinite love, you shall feel the warmth -of His great heart penetrating softly into yours. The -weary, throbbing pain will slowly pass away. Deep -rest and quiet peace will steal into your spirit. And at -length, out of a helpless, compelled, and well-nigh hopeless -surrender, there shall be born within you fearless -trust and winged reliance, and you shall hope in the -Lord from henceforth and for ever.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">{302}</a></div> - -<h2>XVII.<br /> -<i>THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS.</i></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap">There is in many people's minds a painful uneasiness -about the relation of the Bible to modern -science and philosophy. The appearance of each new -theory is deprecated by believers with pious timidity, -and hailed by sceptics with unholy hope. On neither -side is this a dignified or a wholesome attitude. Its -irksome and intrusive pressure promotes neither a -robust piety nor a sober-minded science. It is worth -while inquiring whether there is any sufficient foundation -for either alarm or expectancy in the actual relations -of the Bible to scientific thought. We shall work out -our answer to the question on the historical battle-field -of the 1st chapter of Genesis. Results reached there -will be found to possess a more or less general validity.</p> - -<p>There are two records of creation—one is contained -in the Bible, which claims to be God's Word; the other -is stamped in the structure of the world, which is God's -work. Both being from the same Author, we should -expect them to agree in their general tenour; but in fact, -so far from being in harmony, they have an appearance -of mutual contradiction that demands explanation.</p> - -<p>In studying the problem certain considerations must -be borne in mind. There is a loose way of talking -about antagonism between the natural and the revealed -accounts of creation. That is not quite accurate. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">{303}</a></span> -Conflict between these there cannot be, for they never -actually come into contact. It is not they, but our -theories, that meet and collide. The discord is not in -the original sources, but in our renderings of them. -That is a very different matter, and of quite incommensurate -importance.</p> - -<p>The Bible story is very old. It is written in an -ancient and practically dead language. The meaning -of many of the words cannot be fixed with precision. -The significance of several fundamental phrases is at -best little more than conjecture. Since it was penned -men's minds have grown and changed. The very -moulds of human thought have altered. Current -impressions, conceptions, ideas are different. It is -hard to determine, with even probability, what is said, -still harder to realise what was thought. Certainty is -impossible. No rendering should be counted infallible, -not even our own. Every interpretation ought to be -advanced with modest diffidence, held tentatively, revised -with alacrity, and adjusted to new facts without -timidity and without shame. This has not been the -characteristic attitude of commentators. The exegesis -of the 1st chapter of Genesis presents a long array of -theories, propounded with authority, defended dogmatically, -and ignominiously discredited and deserted. Had -a more lowly spirit presided over their inception, maintenance, -and abandonment, the list would perhaps not -have been shorter, but the retrospect would have been -less humiliating. As it is, we can hardly complain of -the sting of satire that lurks in Kepler's recital of Theology's -successive retreats: "In theology we balance -authorities; in philosophy we weigh reasons. A holy -man was Lactantius, who denied that the earth was -round. A holy man was Augustine, who granted the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">{304}</a></span> -rotundity, but denied the antipodes. A holy thing to -me is the Inquisition, which allows the smallness of the -earth, but denies its motion. But more holy to me is -truth. And hence I prove by philosophy that the earth -is round, inhabited on every side, of small size, and in -motion among the stars. And this I do with no disrespect -to the doctors."</p> - -<p>The physical record is also very old. Its story is -carved in a script that is often hardly legible, and set -forth in symbols that are not easy to decipher. The -testimony of the rocks embodies results of creation, but -does not present the actual operations. Effects suggest -processes, but do not disclose their precise measure, -manner, and origination. You may dissect a great -painting into its ultimate lines and elements, and from -the canvas peel off the successive layers of colour, and -duly record their number and order; but when you -have done you have not even touched the essential -secret of its creation. In determining the first origin -of things the limitation of science is absolute, and even -in tracing the subsequent development there is room -for error, ignorance, and diversity of explanation. Of -certainties in scientific theory there are few. For the -most part, all that can be attained is probability, -especially in speculative matters, such as estimates of -time, explanations of formation, and theories of causation. -As in exegesis, so in geology, all hypotheses -ought to be counted merely tentative, maintained with -modesty, and held open at every point to revision and -reconstruction. The necessity of caution and reserve -needs no enforcing for any one who knows the variety -and inconsistency of the phases through which speculative -geology has passed in our own generation. In -this destiny of transitoriness it does but share the lot -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">{305}</a></span> -of all scientific theory. Professor Huxley was once cruel -enough to call attention to the fact that "extinguished -theologians lie about the cradle of every science, as the -strangled snakes beside that of Hercules." The statement -is a graphic, if somewhat ferocious, reminder of -a melancholy fact, and the fate of these trespassing -divines should warn their successors—as the Professor -means it should—not to stray out of their proper pastures. -But has it fared very differently with the mighty men -of science who have essayed to solve the high problems -of existence and to make all mysteries plain? Take -up a history of philosophy, turn over its pages, study -its dreary epitomes of defunct theories, and as you -survey the long array of skeletons tell me, are you not -reminded of the prophet who found himself "set down -in the midst of the valley which was full of dry bones: -and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; -and, lo, they were very dry"?</p> - -<p>If it is human to err, theology and geology have -alike made full proof of their humanity. That in itself -is not their fault, but their misfortune. The pity of it -is that to the actual fact of fallibility they have so often -added the folly of pretended infallibility. The resultant -duty is an attitude of mutual modesty, of reserve in -suspecting contradiction, of patience in demanding an -adjustment, of perseverance in separate and honest research, -of serenity of mind in view of difficulties, coupled -with a quiet expectation of final fitting. The two -accounts are alike trustworthy. They are not necessarily -identical in detail. It is enough that they should -correspond in their essential purport. It may be that -the one is the complement of the other, as soul is to -body—unlike, yet vitally allied. Perchance their harmony -is not that of duplicates, but of counterparts. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">{306}</a></span> -They were made not to overlap like concentric circles, -but to interlock like toothed wheels. In the end, when -partial knowledge has given way to perfect, they will -be seen to correspond, and nothing will be broken but -the premature structures of adjustment with which -men have thought to make them run smoother than -they were meant to do.</p> - -<p>To attempt anew a task that has proved so disastrous, -and is manifestly so difficult, must be admitted to be -bold, if not even foolhardy. But its very desperateness -is its justification. To fall in a forlorn hope is not -ignoble. To miss one's way in threading the labyrinth -of the 1st chapter of Genesis is pardonable, a thing -almost to be expected. If in seeking to escape Scylla -the traveller should fall into Charybdis, no one will be -surprised—not even himself. It is in the most undogmatic -spirit that we wish to put forward our reading -of the chapter. It is presented simply as a possible -rendering. What can be said for it will be said as -forcibly as may be. It is open to objection from -opposite sides. That may be not altogether against it, -since truth is rarely extreme. Difficulties undoubtedly -attach to it, and defects as well. At best it can but -contribute to the ultimate solution. Perchance its -share in the task may be no more than to show by trial -that another way of explanation is impossible. Well, -that too is a service. Every fresh by-way proved -impracticable, and closed to passage, brings us a step -nearer the pathway of achievement. For the loyal -lover of truth it is enough even so to have been made -tributary to the truth.</p> - -<p>The business of a theologian is, in the first instance -at least, with the Scriptural narrative. To estimate its -worth, and determine its relation to science, we must -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">{307}</a></span> -ascertain its design. Criticism of a church-organ, -under the impression that it was meant to do the work -of a steam-engine, would certainly fail to do justice to -the instrument, and the disquisition would not have -much value in itself. Before we exact geology of -Genesis we must inquire whether there is any in it. -If there be none, and if there was never meant to be -any, the demand is as absurd as it would be to require -thorns of a vine and thistles of the fig-tree. Should it -turn out, for instance, that the order of the narrative is -intentionally not chronological, then every attempt to -reconcile it with the geological order is of necessity a -Procrustean cruelty, and the venerable form of Genesis -is fitted to the geological couch at the cost of its head -or its feet. Either the natural sense of the chapter is -sacrificed or the pruned narrative goes on crutches. If -we would deal fairly and rationally with the Bible -account of creation, our first duty is to determine with -exactness what it purposes to tell, and what it does -not profess to relate. We must settle with precision, -at the outset of our investigation, what is its subject, -method, and intention. The answer is to be found, -not in <i>à priori</i> theories of what the contents ought to -be, but in an accurate and honest analysis of the -chapter.</p> - -<p>The narrative of creation is marked by an exquisite -symmetry of thought and style. It is partly produced -by the regular use of certain rubrical phrases, which -recur with the rhythmical effect of a refrain. There is -the terminal of the days—"and there was evening, and -there was morning, day one," etc.; the embodiment of -the Divine creative will in the eightfold "God said;" -the expression of instant fulfilment in the swift responsive -"and it was so;" and the declaration of perfection -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">{308}</a></span> -in the "God saw that it was good." But the symmetry -of the chapter lies deeper than the wording. It pervades -the entire construction of the narrative. As the -story proceeds there is expansion, variety, progression. -Yet each successive paragraph is built up on one and -the same type and model. This uniformity is rooted -in the essential structure of the thought, and is due to -the determination with which one grand truth is carried -like a key-note through all the sequences of the theme, -and rings out clear and dominant in every step and -stage of the development. Our first duty is to follow, -and find out with certainty, this ruling purpose, and -then to interpret the subordinate elements by its light -and guidance.</p> - -<p>The narrative distributes the operation of creation -over six days, and divides it into eight distinct acts -or deeds. This double divergent arrangement of the -material is made to harmonise by the assignment of a -couple of acts to the third day, and another couple to -the sixth—in each case with a fine and designed effect. -We shall take a bird's-eye view of the contents of these -divisions.</p> - -<p>The chapter opens with a picture of primeval chaos, -out of which God commands the universe of beauty, -life, and order. Nothing is said of its origin. The -story starts with it existent. It is painted as an abyss, -dreary and boundless, wrapped in impenetrable darkness, -an inextricable confusion of fluid matter, destitute -of character, structure, or value, without form and void. -It is the raw material of the universe, passive and -powerless in itself, but holding in it the promise and -potency of all existence. For over it nestles, like a -brood fowl, the informing, warming, life-giving Spirit -of God, sending through its coldness and emptiness -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">{309}</a></span> -the heat and parental yearnings of the Divine heart, -that craves for creatures on which to pour out its love -and goodness. This action of the Spirit is, however, -no more than preparative, and waits its completion in -the accession of a personal fiat of God's will, in which -the Divine Word gives effect and reality to the Divine -Wish. This is a feature of supreme importance, for -in it consists the uniqueness of the Bible narrative. In -the Pagan accounts of creation we find the same general -imagery of dull, dead matter, stirred and warmed into -life and development by the action of an immaterial -effluence of "thought," "love," or "longing." But in -them the operation is cosmic, impersonal, often hardly -conscious; in the Bible it is ethical and intensely personal. -In them the language is metaphysical, materialistic, -or pantheistic; here it is moral, human, personal, -to the point of anthropomorphism. They show us -creative forces and processes; the Bible presents to us, -in all His infinite, manifold, and glorious personality, -the thinking, living, loving "God the Father Almighty, -Maker of heaven and earth."</p> - -<p>The result of the first day and the first Divine decree -is the production of light. The old difficulty about the -existence of light before the sun was made, as it was -invented by science, has been by science dispelled. -The theory of light as a mode of motion, which for the -present holds the field, knows no obstacle to the presence -of light in the absence of the sun. But this -harmony is not due to any prescience of modern -science in the writer of Genesis. His idea of light is -not undulatory, and not scientific, but just the simple -popular notion found everywhere in the Bible. Light -is a fine substance, distinct from all others, and it -appears first in the list of creation, as being the first -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">{310}</a></span> -and noblest of the elements that go to make up our -habitable world. The emergence of the light is presented -as instantaneously following the Divine decree. -That is manifestly the literary effect designed in the -curtness of the sequence, "Let there be light, and -there was light." The light is pronounced good, is -permanently established in possession of its special -properties and powers, and is set in its service of the -world and man by having assigned to it its place in the -"alternate mercy of day and night." There is a very -fine touch in the position of the declaration of goodness. -It stands here earlier than in the succeeding sections. -Darkness is in the Bible the standing emblem of evil. -It would have been discordant with that imagery to -make God pronounce it good, though as the foil of -light it serves beneficent ends. The jarring note is -tacitly and simply avoided by introducing the assertion -of the goodness of light before the mention of its -background and negation, darkness. The picture of -the first day of creation is subscribed with the formula -of completeness—"There was evening, and there was -morning, one day," or "day first"—and has for its -net result the production of the element or sphere of -light.</p> - -<p>The second day and the second Divine decree are -devoted to the formation of the firmament. All through -the Old Testament the sky is pictured as a solid dome -or vaulted roof, above which roll the primeval waters -of chaos. The notion is of course popular, a figment -of the primitive imagination, and quite at variance with -the modern conception of space filled by an interastral -ether; though it is well to remember that this same -ether is no more ascertained fact than was the old-world -firmament, and is in its turn simply an invention -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">{311}</a></span> -of the scientific imagination. It is of more moment to -note that the real motive and outcome of the day's work -is not the firmament. That is not an end, but a means, -precisely as a sea-wall is not an object in itself, but -merely the instrument of the reclamation of valuable -land. What the erection of the firmament does towards -the making of our world is the production of the intervening -aërial space and the lower expanse of terrestrial -waters. Since this last portion of the work is not -complete prior to the separation of the dry land, the -declaration of goodness or perfection is, with exquisite -fineness of suggestion, tacitly omitted. The net result -of the day is, therefore, the formation of the realms of -air and water as elements or spheres of existence.</p> - -<p>The third day includes two works—the production of -the solid ground, and of vegetation. The dead, inert -soil, and its manifold outgrowth of plant life, are strikingly -distinct, and yet most intimately related. Together -they make up the habitable earth. They are -therefore presented as separate works, but conjoined -in the framework of one day. Two sections of the -vegetable kingdom are singled out for special mention—the -cereals and the fruit-trees. It is not a complete -or a botanical classification, and manifestly science is -not contemplated. Those divisions of the plant-world -that sustain animal and human life, and minister to its -enjoyment, are drawn out into pictorial relief and prominence. -The intention is practical, popular, and -religious. The net result of the day is the production -of the habitable dry land.</p> - -<p>The fourth day and the fifth decree call into being -the celestial bodies—the sun, moon, and stars. They -are called luminaries; that is to say, not masses or -accumulations of light, but managers and distributers -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">{312}</a></span> -of light, and the value of this function of theirs, for the -religious and secular calendar, for agriculture, navigation, -and the daily life of men, is formally and elaborately -detailed. Were this account of the heavenly -bodies intended as a scientific or exhaustive statement -of their Divine destination and place in the universe, it -would be miserably inadequate and erroneous. But if -the whole aim of the narrative be not science, but -religion, then it is absolutely appropriate, exact, and -powerful. In the teeth of an all but universal worship -of sun, moon, and stars, it declares them the manufacture -of God, and the ministers and servants of man. -For this practical religious purpose the geocentric -description of them is not an accident, but essential. -It is not a blunder, but a merit. It is true piety, not -cosmical astronomy, that is being established. In the -words of Calvin, "Moses, speaking to us by the Holy -Spirit, did not treat of the heavenly luminaries as an -astronomer, but as it became a theologian, having -regard to us rather than to the stars." The net result -of the fourth day is the production of the heavenly orbs -of light.</p> - -<p>The fifth day and the sixth work issue in the production -of birds and fishes, or, more accurately, all -creatures that fly or swim. It is evidently a classification -by the eye—the ordinary popular division—and it -makes no attempt at scientific pretension or profundity. -As having conscious life, these new creatures of God's -love are blessed by Him, and have their place and -purpose in the order of being defined and established. -The net result of the day is the formation of fowls and -fishes.</p> - -<p>The sixth day, like the third, includes two works—the -land animals and man. The representation admirably -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">{313}</a></span> -expresses their intimate relationship, and yet -essential distinction. The animals are graphically divided -into the domestic quadrupeds, the small creatures -that creep and crawl, and the wild beasts of the -field. The classification is as little scientific in intention -or substance as is the general arrangement into -birds, fishes, and beasts, which of course traverses -radically alike the historical order of palæontology and -the physiological grouping of zoology. The narrative -simply adopts the natural grouping of observation and -popular speech, because that suffices, and best suits its -purpose. With a wonderful simplicity, yet with consummate -effect, man is portrayed as the climax and -crown of creation. Made in the image and likeness of -God, he is clothed with sovereign might and dominion -over all the elements and contents of Nature. The -personal, conscious counterpart and child of God, he -stands at the other end of the chain of creation, and -with answering intelligence and love looks back adoringly -to his great Father in the heavens. Mention is -made of lesser matters, such as sex and food; but -manifestly the supreme interest of the delineation is -ethical and religious. Science is no more contemplated -as an ingredient in the conception than prose is in -poetry. With the making of man the circle of creation -is complete, and the finished perfection of the whole, as -well as the parts, is expressed in the superlative declaration -that "God saw everything that He had made, and, -behold, it was very good." The net result of the sixth -day is the formation of the land animals and man.</p> - -<p>The six days of creative activity are followed by a -seventh of Divine repose. On the seventh day God -rested; or, as it is more fully worded in Exodus -(xxxi. 17), God "rested and was refreshed." It is a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">{314}</a></span> -daring anthropomorphism, and at the same time a -master-stroke of inspired genius. What a philosophical -dissertation hardly could accomplish it achieves by -one simple image. For our thought of God the idea -performs the same service as the institution of the -Sabbath does for our souls and bodies. The weekly -day of rest is the salvation of our personality from -enslavement in material toil. During six days the -toiler is tied, bent and bowed, to his post in the vast -machinery of the world's work. On the seventh all is -stopped, and he is free to lift himself erect to the full -stature of his manhood, to expand the loftier elements -of his being, to reassert his freedom, and realise -his superiority over what is mechanical, secular, and -earthly. What in the progressive portraiture of creation -is the effect of this sudden declaration that the -Creator rested? Why, an intensely powerful reminder -of the free, conscious, and personal nature of His -action. And this impression of such unique value is -secured precisely by the anthropomorphism, as no -philosophical disquisition could have done it. The blot -and blemish of all metaphysical delineation is that -personalities get obliterated and swallowed up in -general principles and impersonal abstractions. In all -other cosmogonies of any intellectual pretension the -process of creation is presented as passive, or Necessitarian, -or Pantheistic, and invariably the free personality -of the Creator becomes entangled in His work, or -entirely vanishes. By this stroke of inspired imagination -the Bible story rescues from all such risks and -degradations our thought of the Creator, and at its -close leaves us face to face with our Divine Maker as -free, personal, living, loving, and conscious as we are -ourselves.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">{315}</a></div> - -<p>We have now got what is, I trust, a fairly accurate -and complete summary of the contents of the narrative. -It is not necessary for our purpose to discuss its -relations to the Pagan cosmogonies. From the sameness -everywhere of the human eye, mind, and fancy, -certain conceptions are common property. There is -probably a special kinship between the Biblical and -the Babylonian and Phœnician accounts. But with -all respect for enthusiastic decipherers, we make bold -to believe, with more sober-minded critics, that the -1st chapter of Genesis owes very little to Babylonian -mythology, and very much indeed to Hebrew thought -and the revealing Spirit of God. The chapter strikingly -lacks the characteristic marks of myth, and is on the -face of it a masterpiece of exquisite artistic workmanship -and profound religious inspiration. Proof of this -has appeared in plenty during our brief study of its -structure and contents. Let us proceed to use the -results of our analysis to determine some more general -characteristics of its structure and design.</p> - -<p>The process of creation is portrayed in six great -steps or stages. Is this order put forward as corresponding -with the physical course of events? and, -further, does it tally with the order stamped in the -record of the rocks? Replying to the second question -first, it must be admitted that, <i>primâ facie</i>, the Bible -sequence does not appear to be in unison with the -geological. Of attempted reconciliations there is an -almost endless variety, but, unfortunately, among the -harmonies themselves there is no harmony. At the -present moment there is none that has gained general -acceptance: a few possess each the allegiance of a -handful of partisans; the greater number command the -confidence only of their respective authors, and some -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">{316}</a></span> -not even that. It is needless to discuss these reconciliations, -because if geology is trustworthy in its main -results, and if our interpretation of the meaning of -Genesis is at all correct, correspondence in order and -detail is impossible. If the order of Genesis was meant -as science, then geology and Genesis are at issue; but, -on the other hand, if the sequence in Genesis was never -meant to be physical the wrong lies with ourselves, -who have searched for geology where we should have -looked for religion, and have, with the best intentions, -persisted in trying to turn the Bible bread of life into -the arid stone of science. Now, we venture to suggest -that in drafting this chapter the ruling formative thought -was not chronology. It must be remembered that the -narrative was under no obligation to follow the order of -actual occurrence, unless that best suited its purpose. -Zoology does not group the animals in the order of -their emergence into existence, but classifies and discusses -them in a very different sequence, adopted to -exhibit their structural and functional affinities. If the -design of Genesis was not to inform us about historical -geology, but to reveal and enforce religious truth, it -might well be that a literary or a logical, and not a -chronological, arrangement might best serve its end. -As a matter of fact, the order chosen is not primarily -historical. Another quite different and very beautiful -idea has fashioned, and is enshrined in, the arrangement. -Looking at our analysis of their contents, we -perceive that the six days fall into two parallel sets of -three, whose members finely correspond. The first set -presents us with three vast empty tenements or habitations, -and the second set furnishes these with occupants. -The first day gives us the sphere of light; the fourth -day tenants it with sun, moon, and stars. The second -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">{317}</a></span> -day presents the realm of air and water; the fifth day -supplies the inhabitants—birds and fishes. The third -day produces the habitable dry land; and the sixth day -stocks it with the animals and man. The idea of this -arrangement is, on the face of it, literary and logical. -It is chosen for its comprehensive, all-inclusive completeness. -To declare of every part and atom of -Nature that it is the making of God, the author passes -in procession the great elements or spheres which the -human mind everywhere conceives as making up our -world, and pronounces them one by one God's creation. -Then he makes an inventory of their entire furniture -and contents, and asserts that all these likewise are the -work of God. For his purpose—which is to declare -the universal Creatorship of God and the uniform -creaturehood of all Nature—the order and classification -are unsurpassed and unsurpassable. With a masterly -survey, that marks everything and omits nothing, he -sweeps the whole category of created existence, collects -the scattered leaves into six congruous groups, -encloses each in a compact and uniform binding, and -then on the back of the numbered and ordered volumes -stamps the great title and declaration that they are one -and all, in every jot, and tittle, and shred, and fragment, -the works of their Almighty Author, and of none -beside.</p> - -<p>With the figment of a supposed physical order -vanishes also the difficulty of the days. Their use is -not literal, but ideal and pictorial. That the author -was not thinking of actual days of twenty-four hours, -with a matter-of-fact dawning of morning and darkening -of evening, is evident from the fact that he does not -bring the sun (the lord of the day) into action till three -have already elapsed, and later on he exhibits the sun -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">{318}</a></span> -as itself the product of one of them. Neither is it -possible that the days stand for geological epochs, for -by no wrenching and racking can they be made to -correspond. Moreover, it is quite certain that the -author would have revolted against the expansion of his -timeless acts of creative omnipotence into long ages of -slow evolution, since the key-note of the literary significance -and sublimity of his delineation is its exhibition -of the created result following in instantaneous sequence -on the creative fiat. The actual meaning underlying -the use of the days is suggested in the rubrical character -of the refrain, as it appears rounding off and -ending each fresh stage of the narration—"And there -was evening, and there was morning—day one, day two, -day three," and so on. The great sections of Nature -are to be made pass in a panorama of pictures, and to -be presented, each for itself, as the distinct act of God. -It is desirable to enclose each of these pictures in a -frame, clear-cut and complete. The natural unit and -division of human toil is a day. In the words of the -poet—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse quote2">"Each morning sees some task begin;</div> -<div class="verse">Each evening sees it close."</div> -</div> - -</div> -</div> - -<p>In Old Testament parlance, any great achievement or -outstanding event is spoken of as "a day." A decisive -battle is known as "the day of Midian." God's intervention -in human history is "the day of the Lord." -When the author of Genesis i. would present the -several elements of Nature as one and all the outcome -of God's creative energy, the successive links of the -chain are depicted as days. Where we should say -"End of Part I.," he says, "And there was evening, and -there was morning—day one." Moreover, it is needless -to point out how finely, from this presentation of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">{319}</a></span> -timeless fiats of creation in a framework of days, -emerges the majestic truth that not in the dead order -of nature, nor in the mere movement of the stars, but -in the nature and will of God, Who made man in His -image, must be sought the ultimate origin, sanction, and -archetype of that salutary law which divides man's life -on earth into fixed periods of toil, rounded and crowned -by a Sabbath of repose.</p> - -<p>If this understanding of the structural arrangement -of the chapter be correct, we have reached an important -and significant conclusion regarding the author's method -and design. He does not suppose himself to be giving -the matter-of-fact sequence of creation's stages. His -interest does not lie in that direction. His sole concern -is to declare that Nature, in bulk and in detail, is the -manufacture of God. His plan does not include, but -<i>ipso facto</i> excludes, conformity with the material order -and process. He writes as a theologian, and not as a -scientist or historian. Starting from this fixed point, -let us note the outstanding features and engrossing -interests of his delineation. We shall find them in the -phrases that, like a refrain, run through the narrative -and form its key-notes, and finally in the resultant -impression left by its general tenour and purport.</p> - -<p>The recurrent key-notes of the narrative are three—God's -naming His works, His declaration of their goodness, -and the swift formula of achievement—"and it was -so." The naming is not a childish triviality, nor a mere -graphic touch or poetical ornament. It does not mean -that God attached to His works the vocables by which -in Hebrew they are known. Its significance appears in -the definition of function into which in the later episodes -it is expanded. Name in Hebrew speech is equivalent -to Nature. When the story pictures God as naming -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">{320}</a></span> -His works, it vividly brings into relief the fixed law -and order that pervade the universe. And by the -picturesque—if you will, anthropomorphic—fashion of -the statement, it attains an effect beyond science or -metaphysics, inasmuch as it irresistibly portrays this -order of Nature as originating in the personal act of -God, and directly inspired by and informed with His -own effluent love of what is good, and true, and orderly. -Thus the great truth of the fixity of Nature is presented, -not as a fact of science or a quality of matter, but as -rooted in and reflecting a majestic attribute of the -character of God. The interest is not scientific, but -religious. In like fashion, the unfailing declaration of -goodness, though it might seem a small detail, is replete -with practical and religious significance. The Pagan -doctrines of creation are all more or less contaminated -by dualistic or Manichean conceptions. The good -Creator is baffled, thwarted, and impeded by a brutish -or malignant tendency in matter, which on the one hand -mars the perfection of creation, and on the other hand -inserts in the physical order of things elements of -hostility and malevolence to man. It is a thought that -at once degrades the Creator, and denudes Nature, -as man's abode, of its beauty, comfort, and kindliness. -How different is it in the Bible picture of creation! -This God has outside Himself no rival, experiences -no resistance nor contradiction, knows no failure nor -imperfection in His handiwork; but what He wishes -He wills, and what He commands is done, and the -result answers absolutely to the intention of His wisdom, -love, and power. In its relation to its Maker the work -is free from any flaw. In its relation to man it contains -nothing malevolent or maleficent. It is good. And -once again, mark with what skill in the delineation the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">{321}</a></span> -light is thrown, not on the work, but on the Worker, -and the goodness of creation becomes but a mirror to -drink in and flash forth the infinite wisdom, might, and -goodness of its Divine Maker. Here also the interest -is not metaphysical, but practical and religious. A third -commanding aim of the narrative appears in the significant -and striking use of the formula "and it was so." -With absolute uniformity the Divine fiat is immediately -followed by the physical fulfilment. There is no painting -of the process, no delineation of slow and gradual -operations of material forces. Not once is there any -mention of secondary causes, nor the faintest suggestion -of intermediate agencies. The Creator wills; the thing -is. In this exclusion from the scene of all subordinate -studies there is artistic design—profound design. The -picture becomes one, not of scenery, but of action. It -is not a landscape, but a portrait. The canvas contains -but two solitary objects, the Creator and His work. -The effect is to throw out of sight methods, materials, -processes, and to throw into intense relief the act and -the Actor. And the supreme and ultimate result on -the beholder's mind is to produce a quite overpowering -and majestic impression of the glorious personality of -the Creator.</p> - -<p>Here we have reached the sovereign theme of the -narrative, and have detected the false note that is struck -at the outset of every attempt to interpret it as in -any degree or fashion a physical record of creation. In -very deed and truth the concern of the chapter is not -creation, but the character, being, and glory of the -Almighty Maker. If we excerpt God's speeches and -the rubrical formulas, the chapter consists of one continuous -chain of verbs, instinct with life and motion, -linked on in swift succession, and with hardly an -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">{322}</a></span> -exception, the subject of every one of them is God. It -is one long adoring delineation of God loving, yearning, -willing, working in creation. Its interest is not in the -work, but the Worker. Its subject is not creation, but -the Creator. What it gives is not a world, but a God. -It is not geology; it is theology.</p> - -<p>Why do we so assert, accentuate, and reiterate this to -be the central theme of the chapter? Because through -the scientific trend and bias of modern inquiry the essential -design of the chapter has got warped, cramped, and -twisted till its majestic features have been pushed almost -clean out of view, and all attention is concentrated -on one trivial, mean, and unreal point in its physiognomy. -Its claim to be accounted an integral part of -a real revelation is made to hinge on its magical -anticipation of, and detailed correspondence with, the -changeful theories of modern geology. The idea is, -in our humble but decided opinion, dangerous, baseless, -and indefensible. The chapter may not forestall -one single scientific discovery. It may not tally with -one axiom or dogma of geology. Nevertheless, it -remains a unique, undeniable, and glorious monument -of revelation, second only in worth and splendour to -the record of God's incarnation of His whole heart -and being in the person of Jesus Christ, our Lord and -Redeemer. Consider what this chapter has actually -accomplished in the world, and set that against all -theories of what it ought to be doing. For our knowledge -of the true God and the realisation of mankind's -higher life it has done a work beside which any question -of correspondence or non-correspondence with science -sinks into unmentionable insignificance. Place side by -side with it the chiefest and best of the Pagan cosmogonies, -and appreciate its sweetness, purity, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">{323}</a></span> -elevation over against their grotesqueness, their shallowness, -and their degradation alike of the human and the -Divine. Realise the world whose darkness they re-echo, -the world into which emerged this radiant picture -of God's glory and man's dignity, and think what it -has done for that poor world. It found heaven filled -with a horde of gods, monstrous, impure, and horrible, -gigantic embodiments of brute force and lust, or at -best cold abstractions of cosmical principles, whom -men could fear, but not love, honour, or revere. It -found man in a world dark and unhomelike, bowing -down in abject worship to beasts and birds, and stocks -and stones, trembling with craven cowardice before the -elements and forces of Nature, enslaved in a degrading -bondage of physical superstition, fetishism, and polytheism. -With one sweep of inspired might the truth -enshrined in this chapter has changed all that, wherever -it has come. It has cleansed the heaven of those foul -gods and monstrous worships, and leaves men on -bended knees in the presence of the one true God, -their Father in heaven, who made the world for their -use, and them for Himself, and whose tender mercies -are over all His works. From moral and mental -slavery it has emancipated man, for it has taken the -physical objects of his fear and worship, and dashing -them down from their usurped pre-eminence, has put -them all under his feet, to be his ministers and servants -in working out on earth his eternal destiny. These -conceptions of God, Man, and Nature have been the -regeneration of humanity; the springs of progress in -science, invention, and civilisation; the charter of the -dignity of human life, and the foundation of liberty, -virtue, and religion. The man who, in view of such -a record, can ask with anxious concern whether a revelation -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">{324}</a></span> -carrying in its bosom such a wealth of heavenly -truth does not also have concealed in its shoe a bird's-eye -view of geology must surely be a man blind to all -literary likelihood, destitute of any sense of congruity -and the general fitness of things, and cannot but seem -to us as one that mocks. The chapter's title to be -reckoned a revelation rests on no such magical and -recondite quality, but is stamped four-square on the -face of its essential character and contents. Whence -could this absolutely unique conception of God, in His -relation to the world and man, have been derived, -except from God Himself? Whence into a world so -dark, and void, and formless did it emerge fair and -radiant? There is no answer but one. God said, -"Let there be light; and there was light."</p> - -<p>The specific revelation of the 1st chapter of Genesis -must be sought in its moral and spiritual contents. -But may there not be, in addition, worked into its -material framework, some anticipation of scientific -truths that have since come to light? What were -the good of it, when the Divine message could be -wholly and better expressed by the sole use of popular -language, intelligible in every age and by all classes? -Is it dignified to depict the Spirit of Inspiration standing -on tiptoe, and straining to speak, across the long millenniums -and over the head of the world's childhood, to -the wise and learned scientists of the nineteenth -century? It is never the manner of Scripture to -anticipate natural research or to forestall human industry. -God means men to discover physical truth -from the great book of Nature. What truth of science, -what mechanical invention, what beneficent discovery -in medicine, agriculture, navigation, or any other art -or industry, has ever been gleaned from study of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">{325}</a></span> -Bible? Not one. These things lie outside the scope -of revelation, and God is the God of order. Moreover, -in Scripture itself the framework of the chapter is not -counted dogmatic nor uniformly adhered to. In the -2nd chapter of Genesis, in Job, in the Psalms, and -in Proverbs there are manifold deviations and variations. -The material setting is handled with the freedom -applicable to the pictorial dress of a parable, wherein -things transcendental are depicted in earthly symbols. -In truth, this is essentially the character of the composition. -We have seen that the delineation, classification, -and arrangement are not scientific and not -philosophical, but popular, practical, and religious. It -is everywhere manifest that the interest is not in the -process of creation, but in the fact of its origination in -God. While science lingers on the physical operation, -Genesis designedly overleaps it, for the same reason -that the Gospels do not deign to suggest the material -substratum of Christ's miracles. Creation is a composite -process. It begins in the spiritual world, and -terminates in the material. It is in its first stage -supernatural, in its second natural. It originates in -God desiring, decreeing, issuing formative force; it -proceeds in matter moving, cohering, moulding, and -shaping. Revelation and science regard it from opposite -ends. The one looks at it from its beginning, the -other from its termination. The Bible shows us God -creating; geology shows us the world being created. -Scripture deals solely with the first stage, science solely -with the second. Where Scripture stops, there science -first begins. Contradiction, conflict, collision are impossible. -In the words of the Duke of Argyll, "The -1st chapter of Genesis stands alone among the traditions -of mankind in the wonderful simplicity and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">{326}</a></span> -grandeur of its words. Specially remarkable—miraculous, -it really seems to me—is that character of reserve -which leaves open to reason all that reason may be -able to attain. The meaning of these words seems -always to be a meaning ahead of science, not because -it anticipates the results of science, but because it is -independent of them, and runs, as it were, round the -outer margin of all possible discovery."</p> - -<p>May we not safely extend this finding to the entire -Bible, and on these lines define its relation to modern -thought? Its supernatural revelation is purely and -absolutely ethical and spiritual. In questions physical -and metaphysical it has no concern and utters no voice. -With the achievements of science it never competes, -nor can it be contradicted by them. It encourages its -researches, ennobles its aspirations, crowns and completes -its discoveries. Into the dead body of physical -truth it puts the living soul of faith in the Divine -Author. Like the blue heaven surrounding and spanning -over the green earth, revelation over-arches and -encircles science. Within that infinite embrace, beneath -that spacious dome, drawing from its azure depths -light, and life, and fructifying warmth, science, unhampered -and unhindered, works out its majestic mission of -blessing to men and glory to God. Collision there can -be none till the earth strike the sky. The message of -the Bible is a message from God's heart to ours. It -cannot be proved by reason, nor can it be disproved. -It appeals, not to sight, but to faith, and belongs to the -realm of spirit, and not to that of sense. Science may -have much to alter in our notions of its earthly embodiment, -but its essential contents it cannot touch.</p> - -<p>That is not theory, but reality. It is not philosophy, -but life; not flesh, but spirit. It is the living, breathing, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">{327}</a></span> -feeling love of God become articulate. It needs no -evidence of sense. In the immutable instincts of the -human heart it has its attestation, and in a life of -responsive love it finds an unfailing verification. It -rests on a basis no sane criticism can undermine nor -solid science shake. Happy the man whose faith has -found this fixed foundation, and whose heart possesses -this adamantine certainty: he shall be likened "unto -a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and -the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds -blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it -was founded upon a rock."</p> - -<p class="center small">Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</p> - -<div class="box"> - -<p class="center small"><i>In 8vo, with Etched Portrait by Manesse. Price 12s.</i></p> - -<h2>JAMES MACDONELL,<br /><small>JOURNALIST</small>.</h2> - -<p class="center">By W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h3>Daily Telegraph.</h3> - -<p>"Sincere, sympathetic, loyal, and artistic.... This masterly -monograph."</p> - -<h3>Graphic.</h3> - -<p>"James Macdonell was one of the most accomplished and brilliant -journalists of the day.... We have a full record of Macdonell's -life, and it forms one of the most interesting of recent books of -biography."</p> - -<h3>Academy.</h3> - -<p>"An admirable portrait, ... so carefully and so judiciously -written that the example it sets is likely to be followed."</p> - -<h3>Scotsman.</h3> - -<p>"An admirably written life."</p> - -<h3>Star.</h3> - -<p>"The story is told by Mr. Nicoll with admirable perfection and -a real sense of the value of such a record."</p> - -<h3>Church Times.</h3> - -<p>"The biographer has performed his task with eminent success."</p> - -<h3>Pall Mall Gazette.</h3> - -<p>"In many ways an attractive biography."</p> - -<h3>Spectator.</h3> - -<p>"Interesting and valuable."</p> - -<h3>Guardian.</h3> - -<p>"We are likely to have, for some time to come, no more light -thrown upon the mysteries of the 'leading journal' than there is -given in this account of James Macdonell.... The life of him -which Mr. Nicoll has given to the world is full of interest, and we -lay it down with sincere regret for the brilliant career which was -cut short midway."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center small"><span class="smc">London</span>: HODDER & -STOUGHTON, <span class="smc">27, Paternoster Row</span>.</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D.:Memoir -and Sermons, by William Gray Elmslie - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK W. G. 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