SMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

142 IIM

Illll^

1.4

IIM
M

1.6

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(7)6) 872-4503

Q-

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canddien de microreproductions historlques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images n the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

I i Coloured maps/

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurie et/ou pelliculde

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

n
a

Cartes g^ugraphiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

Lareliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int^rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6i6 filmdes.

Additional comments;/
Commentaires suppl6mentaires.

L'lnstitut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6ti possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu^s ci-dessous.

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommag^es

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculdes

D
D

(*ages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piquees

Pages d^tachees

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of prir

Quality in6gaie de I'impression

Includes supplementary materic
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

I I Showthrough/

I I Quality of print varies/

r~n Includes supplementary material/

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata. une pelure,
etc., ont 6i6 film6es d nouveau de facon A
obtenir la meilleure mage possible.

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous.

10X 14X 1SX 22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Library of Congress
Photoduplication Service

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grdce d la
g6n6rosit6 de

Library of Congress
Photoduplication Service

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avoc le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetd de Texemplaire film^, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illusuatnd impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol — ^ (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim^e sont film^s en commengant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impre&sion ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le car}. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmds er. commenpant par la
premid'e page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbole V signifie "FIN",

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir
de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

t 2 3

32X

1 2 3

4 5 6

■ h

mmimirmtrm'ffmm'

f^T

•'

3-31-57

'cjAA

-•^"'fPSiwifpi'P'"*"

PREFACE.

A VoLtrMB of Sortnona seems hardly to require any Preface.
The form, dimeneions, topics, and principles of sach compo-
aitions as it contains, are known beforehand, and need no ex*
planations. Any thing further runs the risk of becoming
personal, and perhaps egotistical.

ivnd yet, the author feels that there are a few preliminary
matters, with which he would wish his readers to be ao*
quainted, before they proceed to enter on the volume before
them.

Tlio first, is the time, the places, and perhaps, the circum-
stances, connected with their delireiy. The title of this vol-
Qme may lead to the idea that the eermons contained in it
compose a series delivered consecutively, and forming a course
Such, however, is far from being the case. But a brief ac-
count of these discourses, and their origin, may throw some
light on their present publication.

So far, then, from any unities of time or place existing in
this collection, there is an interval of thirty years, and a space
of above a thousand miles, between the delivery of some, and
that of other sermons, placed side by side in this volume.
And t'le same will be the case In any others that may follow
it. Thsir relative positions have been regulated solely, by
order of matter.

lixdeed.; the author feels it necessary to warn his readers,

' * » y ' ^|!§B;gg |

»pp

^ mrAoi.

that most of what thoy mtUI read, bolongt to • wmoto dato.
It wa. in the year 1827, that tho anthor focolvod a com-
mlMlon from the holy and .ealou. Pontiff. Leo. XII, to preach
in Rome, on the Sunday, from Adrent to Eaater, the ^a.on
during which foreigner, erowd tho Eternal City. So honor-
able, but unexpected a commiMion. or rathoi com.nnnd,
could not be reftiMKl, oven at the expend of much toil and
confusion. Un.kiU«l, and inexperienced, the author wa.
obliged to feel hi. way. and moa.ure hi. .tcp«. ^owly and
painfully. For many .ucee«.lve year., he wrote every di^
L«e ; and having almo.t annually tho «une audience, could
«,arcely venture on repetition.. And .o the m.« of manu-
script, accumulated, and ha. remained buried for almoata

*^B7dCr«!^ gw»te' oonfldence wa. gained, or greater fa-
cility wa. attained; while increased occupation., and lugher
dutle., made encroabhmenU on the time, which, though
gradually diminiahing, had been required for the abor of
^mpo.ing w«.Vly dl«,ou.^. When thl. practice had
totauTceaBed, It wa. often thought well to have .ermon., es-
pecially if preached for «,me local purpce, taken down m
Jhort-hand, and either printed. «>on to dl«ippear from before
the public, or left in manu.cript with the preacher.

While, therefore, the greater number of wrmon., which it
ha. been hi. duty to deliver, have pawed away for ever into
oWlvlTn, with tl^ breath Uiat committed them to the hear-
tl and ho win hope, .ometlme., to the heart, of hi. audi-
Tcet tho.a which he now pmume. to publLh belong to
Te r other of the.e two ela«e.. of tho.e originally put i^
writing by hlmBclf, and tho.e which other, have had tho
«kill and goodnoM to prowrve.

rRBFACI.

to dato.
A com*
) preach
D Boaton
3 honor*
ininand,
toil and
[lor wai
iwly and
very di*-
CO, could
)f luanu-
almost a

reater fa-
id higher
I, though

labor of
stice had
rmons, os-

down ia
om before

•

», which it
' ever into
) the hear-
' his audi-
belong to
ly put into
e had the

Tho particular rcaulta of theae circumitaneea, to which he
wiahea to call hi« kind reader's attention, are tho following.

I. TIjo great bulk of these sermonB were preadiud in Rome.
This will be often evident without calling special attention
to this fact. Allmions to places and objects in that city will
meet tho eyo in many places. Sometimes, even the whole
tenor of the composition will manifest this circumstance.
Indeed, a departure to another scene would form the excep-
tion ; and, where it influences, in any way, what is said, will
require explanation.

II. The course of sermons annually prescribed, went over
a limited portion of the year, comprising always the same
Sundays, the same feasts, and the same ecclesiastical seasons.
As has been intimated above, it commenced which Advent and
ended with Lent. Hence the same Gospels, those road dur-
ing a few months only, had to suggest topics for the sermons.
Hence tho only great Mysteriet* of our Lord, which the eccle-
siastical Calandar brought under tho contemplation of the
Faithful, were those of the Infancy and the Passion. Hit
glorious Resurrection, His admiral Ascension, Whitsuntide,
Corpus Ohristi, never could enter into our cycle.

Thia oircumstanco must give a mutilated and incomplete
appearance to a volume of discourses on our Divine Saviour
otherwise almost inexplicable. Should the author be able to
publish the Meditations, which he has prepared, he hopea
that this defect will be somewhat remedied,

HI. The audience which he had to addrew, was so pecu-
liar, as to eflTect, no doubt, the oharacter of his Sermons. It
was not merely what is called a m\xfA ftnp- IV ww clearly
divisible into two most distinct elements. The eeclesiMtical
^jomprised all the religions commwnitiea and colleges speak-

•^^w

• * Ptif AOI.

Ing English, in Rome, — theological itudonta, «nd even pro-
feuoni ; aged and renerabla ■aporion of monaatorios, with
their novicM and scholaatiot; and many other prioata resi-
dent by choice^ or fbr basinoes, in Rome. And seldom it
that city without some Bisliop, from either side uf the At-
lantic, or fW)m some Colonial See. Tlio secular portion of
the aadience was composed of Catholic sojourners in Rome
and of no small proportion of Protestants who were pleased
to attend.

JBnt there were no poor \ none of that crowd, docile and
simple-hearted, on whom a preacher loves to look down, with
affection, and whom he sees with open looks, and open hearts,
receiving his plainest words.

All was educated, learned ; somewhat formal and per-
haps cold. The preacher conld not but feel that he was ad-
dr«Ming an andience containing many persons superior to
himself, in the very office which ho was fulfilling, and en-
tirely made np of a class which claimed the rights of social
position, tojudgehimby their own standards, and over which
he conld not exercise the prerogative of a pastor or a master.

Under these circumstances, he was constrained both in the
choice, and in the handling of his topics, to select an almost
neutral conrse, so as not to weary with controversy the eru-
dite Catholic portion of his audience ; nor to enter too deep-
ly into the feeling subjects which none but Catholics could
understand or appreciate; nor finally to throw himself into
that affectionat6neM of address which the poor and simple
alone amoifg Catholics conld have felt and enjoyed.

Perhaps the i^inguUrity of his position may bo reflected on
the following disconrees. If so, let this plain and unvar-
nished statement serve to explain the canse.

fa*M.>^.....i « <M - i. ■ - ,, .,

-f*i i 'f r w' li ^ I isi M i

isclf into

d simple

lected on

d unvap*

♦

—"—n

PBBFAOI. ^ T

IT. It in»y eully h^e hiipponed tli»t thonghti md lllu»-
tratlont rocur In termoni now brought togetlior by tlmn*
•rity of tubjeot*. Withoal wishing to ■jiulogiM for what
may have »ri»cn in thii ro«pect, from poverty of thonght, it
ii fair to obicrve, that two ■crmoot, exhibiting tnoh reaem-
blancoi, or even Idcntltloi, may have been delivered at aii in-
terval of twenty years, ono perhaps in Italy, and the other in
England. The reader, bearing this in mind, will, no doubt,
exercise a lenient judgment, upon making such discovery.

V. But for another, which he ia sore to mako, the author
can offer no deprecatory excuse. It is impossible to have
preserved throughout, unifo.mity of style and manner. Oor
IVame, our features, our complexion, our voice, cannot re-
main the same through thirty years; and no more can
that style which forms the physiognomy of our writing. It
takes its character from our occupations, our society, onr
health ; it matches iu color and hue from the objects that
surround us, the very atmosphere which wo breathe, from
the authors whom we happen to be chiefly reading, and
from A thousand unapprcciable influences.

Now, as these discourses are not arranged chronologically,
there will be found no gradual transition, no sliding ftom
one style of writing to another, as age advanced • but there
may be found sudden plunges from one characteristic man-
ner of composition to another, very different. If so, again,
let it be observed, that no attempt at excuse is made. The
author knows, that at every period of his litemry life, ho has
tried to write naturally, and nntrtlficially ', and, that if any
thing of A contrary nature appear, he has been nnconscions
of it at the time ; and that he has always been more intent
on what he nght to say, than how he had best say it

I rixrACK.

Gr»dn»ny, bowerer, 1i« obtcrroi with rogrot that hli Prcf-
M« Mflmi to liftvo been growing ajxilogtitic. Tlii« wii«, by
no tnoAua, hi* purport or duaign. IIo fct-U tliat ho bus no
right to aaauino iuch n tone. Tho ruipomibilitiM of » work
do not weigh on tho time of it* coin|)oi«ltion, but on tlmt of
iU publication. lUd thoio icrmoni ilopt tlioir Horatiiin n«>-
vennium in tho writer'a doilc, to ir eivo periodical ruvisioim,
omcndationii, and tioinhlng touchoa, tho intervening period
between compoalng and publishing might bo well pleaded
in juttifioation of delay.

IJut hero tliere is no such oxcuw. Tlioao diocouracs conio
forth with all tlioir early faults, their very original sin upon
their head. Tlicy havo gained nothing ccrUinly by their
prolonged suppression. Even tho most indulgent reader
may feel justiflod in asking: "What ha» induced you to
publish them now I" To this question tho author docs not
find it easy to reply. Ho moy throw before him, as his
strongest shield of dofoncc, the long-expressed and frcquently-
rcpcatcd solicitation of friends, who still retain a sufficiently
favorable recollection, to express a dosiro of reading what
they have formerly hoard.

But this is hardly enough to excuse a prcsuinptous act.
Ho therefore candidly acknowledges that another, and ho
hopes, a better motive has seconded those kind demands up-
on him. Conscious, as ho is beforehand, of the many dofccta
which will bo found in this publication ; sensible of many
motiveo which ought to doter him from his design, ho yet
fools impelled to undertake this work, by a desire of doing
something for souls.

All good gifts come from God, who distributes them ac-
cording to His blessed will. Ono preacher touches ono chord,

hi* Pri'f-
• wii», by
1)0 lius no
>f a work

DO ttllit of

rati All no-
rQvi«iotitt
tig jwriod
II plondud

rftos come
■in upon
[» by Ihoir
int roador
od you to
r doca not
iin, as luB
frcquently-
mffloiently
ding what

PRBfAOI. V

and anotliof another. Each girwi forth tlio iamo voiro of
truth ; yet tho Aliniglity dintrihutor t-inploya each m bi-at it
|i!ua«cth Jlira. Is it not poMlhie that things said ono wny
may produce a »alutary cflfcct, where ovon bettor thlnga,
bettor laid, have failed I And uliould not each of ut atriva
to bo uaeful in hit day, according to tho muall ntcaaure of
power which hia Maater has left him ? May tho writer bury
what he haa, bocauae ho haa only a ».o|jlo talent, while ao
many other* have received five or ton t

Let him not, then, be reprehended, if now, after many
joara, he diaintor it, and try to ptit it out i > uaury. On tho
contrary, lot tho charitable trader pray to (Jod for him, and
hia work, begging that He will bloaa them both : tho ono,
that ho may not bo rejected aa a uaeleaa aervant ; tho other,
that, in apitc of Ilia husbandman's u n worth ineaa, being tho
aecd of Ilia own Word, it may produco fruit a hundredfold.

Lohdoh: PmIoo Wook, ISOi.

iptoua act.
er, and ho
imanda ni>-
any defeeta
lo of many
ign, ho yet
re of doing

OS tliem ac-
i ono chord,

;MWc;ajiiasga»»»t* aW'*v;a «t i*jjj « » » «* » uj! i iii-»«t i t i ' n ^'

CONTENTS.

aBMOt

I. On TBI Incarnation and Birtb or Jxsui Chrmt.
II. On thb Epipuanv

III. OcR Saviour in thc Tckpli.

IV. Tub Holt Nahr or Jbsus. . .
V. Thb Two Great Mtstkribs or Levi.

VI. Thabor and Olivet. «...
VII. On Couino to Jesub roR Refreshment.
VIII. On the Character and SurrsRiNOs or Christ in
His Passion . . .
IX. Of the Scandal or Christ.
X. Trtduphs or the Cross.
XL Meditation on the Passion.
XIL On beino or Christ's bide.

XIII. On Temptation.

XIV. The Kingdom or Christ
XV. Devotiqit* 70 the Blessed Virgin.

XVI. Vbheratiun or the Blessed Virgin.
XVn, On the MATBRNirr or the Blessed VnourV .

CONTENTS.

APPENDIX.

PAOTORALS ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS
CHRIST, IN CONNECTION WITH EDUCATION.

rAOC
8U9

381

888

807
402

413

I. Ok tii» Sacrbd Heart

II. On tub Mvstkriks or Tint Sacukd IIkakt.

III. On thb Firk of the Sacked Ukart. . . •

IV. On the Most Precious Blood of the Heart of

OUR Lord Jesus Christ

v. On the Education of the Heart of Jesus. .
VI. Inetitution or the Forty Hours' Adohation of
OUB liORU u» THE Blebsed Eucharist, 1849.

■f

•IS

lt.l»

'•vMMMEMflMia

mmmfimt^'" n^ i i ■

^ ."V. ■■w

)F JESUS

rAOB

•

8U9

•

381

•

388

•

307

402

413

«l»

SEflMON I.
m iU ijnarnntion ana iirtb of i<Kiu$ <!l^liH0t

Lmx, ill. 6.
" And all fledx duOl see Uie Mdvation of God."

Two days more, my brethren, will bring iia to that
festival— fountain of. all Christian joy — ^for which the
Gharch has prepared us through the season of Advent.
In that admirable spirit which has been maintained in
her from the beginning, she has announced to us the
coming solemnity with the same vivid pkrase, aa she
might have been supposed to use, had the event we are
going to commemorate been about actually to happen.
Not only have the gospels of this preparatory season
pi-esented us with the preaching of the precursor John,
but all her prayers and offices have spoken to va of the
Son of God as about to be born for our salvation. At
the beginning of the time, she called upon us to adore
the Lord who is preparing to come ; as we approached
its term she changed her invitation to the more cheering
notice that the Lord was nigh ;• her prayere expressed
alternately a hope of His speedy appearance, and a fear
lest the sins of His people might delay it ; and thus our
affections have been carried back through eighteen
pentui'ies to that truer standard of feelings, which

* "Regem ve&turam Dominom,— Prope est jun j^nriniu, venite adoie-
mna.*'— /ncifotmo is Advent.

^ ^-^

"<»9WI

THE INOARNATIOIf AND

closer attendance on the mysteries of Christ's incania-
tion and birth would have procured us.

This, undoubtedly, is the best and most satisfjictoiy
point from which to view the mysteries, whether joy-
ful or sorrowful, of our redemption. Their effects, it
is true, have no limit in time, and their saving influ-
ence upon our souls is as great and as effectual as it
could be upon those that witnessed them. The blood
of Jesus is able to cleanse our stains, upon which it
mystically descends, as much as those of Magdalen,
or any others of the pious attendants on His cross, upon
whom it actually was sprinkled. Yet who envies them
not that pang of killing sorrow— that heart-burating
contrition— and that mournful love, which none but
they could ever feel ?

The love of our infant Saviour was as much dis-
played for us as for the happy shepherds of Bethle-
hem ; for us as well as for them. He bore the cold and
destitution of that His first night, and angels sung peace
to men, and to God gloiy on our behalf, no less than
on theirs that heard them. Yet who is not jealous of
that prerogative which they had, of gazing on the god-
like smile of that blessed Infant, and feeling that inten-
Bity of purest joy, which the sight of Him under such
circumstances could alone inspire ? And if the service
of God hath a right to man's heart as much as to hi»
understanding— and if the affections when given to
Him, should be brought as nigh as possible to the full
measure of their object, surely we shaU do well to med-
itate upon the mysteries now before us, with as much of
that fervent piety and devout affection, as may be sup-
posed to have inspired those who actually beheld them,

II ^1. I «<l»«.*iii ■■!«*■ I. 'ilifci iiiP wi|«JlirU>lliH— MOittiifcw

H«Mai«nriHMMMnMtMnMMii«wvr

incarna*

ifrtctoiy
her joy-
ffects, it
3g influ-
ual as it
le blood
vhich it
Eigdalen,
)8S, upon
ies them
burating
oue but

luch «3i8-
' Bethle-
cold and
ng peace
ess than
ealous of
the god-
lat inii;en-
tder such
le service
as to hi»
given to
the full
11 to med-
3 much of
ly be sup-
leld them.

BIBTH OF "jBSUB CHRIST.

When the Jew was told that be should see the saU
vation of God, what idea would this phrase naturally
suggest to him 1 One great act of salvation or redemp-
tion, wrought by the hand of Almightiness, ho held
recorded in his rnnals ; and it conveyed to him the
idea of terrible and resistless power. Storms of hail,
and darkness sensible to the touch; the fields blighted
by devouring locusts, and the houses infested by intol-
erable reptiles ; the rivers running with blood, and the
chambere of all the first-born defiled with their corpses :
such were the forerunners of the great salvation of
God's people. The waters of the Red Sea divided ;
the chariot-wheels of Pharaoh overthrown ; an army
with its royal leader swallowed up in the billows : such
was its conduct, and such the means whereby it was
eflfected. Or if the same Jew sought for precedents in
his history, of how a new law was to be presented to
the world, he would find only the terrors of Sinai, its
clouds and lightnings, and the voice of God's trumpet
proclaiming his commands to an affrighted people.

But now that God is about to come and set free His
inheritance, not from one tyrant, but, as the Jew sup-
posed, from his numerous and far mightier oppressors,—-
now that His Idngdom has to be established, not within
the narrow limits of Palestine, but from sea to sea, from
the river to the uttermost bounds of the earth, — now
that His law has to be heai^, not by a few thousand,
that can lie prostrate round the foot of a single moun-
tain, but by Greeks and barbarians, Romans, Parthians,
Elemytes, and Medes, what new series of proportionate
wonders and signs can He have in store that will fall
short of the destruction of visible nature I If before,

■A

IHB INCAUNATION AND

He touched the mountains nnd they Buioked, and the
rocks melted away through ftur. what will it be when
He comes from the south, and the holy one from Mount
Pharan, but that as the prophet Ilabacuc describes it,
nations should be melted, and the ancient mountmns
crushed to pieces, and the entire deep should put forth
its voice and lift up its hands? (cap. iii.)

No, the understanding of man could have formed no
estimate of that display of magnificence which cons.ste
in abasement, or of that exhibition of might which acts
in silence and without sensible effort. 3l-ven m the
visible world there is as much of power, and more of
glorious, because beneficent, exercise thereof, in one
drop of dew, that refreshes and helps to form the
flower hidden in the grass, than there is in the earth-
quake that overthrows the solidest works of «ian a
hand: and yet the one passes unheeded, while the
latter fills nations with amazement. And so is there
more of marvel, of grandeur, and of glory in that silent
descent of the Eternal Word on earth, "as the rm
upon the fleece, and as showei-s falling genl^' «pon the
earth" (Ps. Ixxi. 6), than there could have been in the
utmost extension of His almighty arm.

In fact, my brethren, it is matter of mere human pru-
dence and reasonable calculation, to proportion the
means employed to the greatness of the ends proposed.
Even in things beyond our reach we can estimate this
ratio. When we know that God hath taken an enter-
prise in hand— when He hath pledged Hib power to
its success, we can be sui-prised at nothing more.
Whether it be the destruction of armies by one night s
pestUence, or the overthrow of a city's walls by a trum-

l <l « ui>i i i. i O» i i"i*i i .j i' H iii iH'i i i '

MHMMMMM

-V<^

BIRTH OF JESUa CHRIST.

and the
je when

I Mount
jribes it,
ountnins
)ut forth

rmed no

consists

hich acts

II in the
L more of
', in one
brm the
he earth-
of man's
vhile the

is there

hat silent

the raia

upon the

len. in tHe

Liman pru-
rtion the
proposed,
imate this
I an enter-
power to
ing more.
)ne night's
by a trum-

pet's sound, we cease to be astonished : we are prepared
for any results when power unlimited is wielded. But
for the suppression of all manifestation of power, when
the most astonishing energies of Omnipotence are
called forth, we could not, by human reasoning, have
been prepared. To have been told that the conception
of an infant in the bosom of its mother, should be a
more wonderful work than the creation of other exist-
ing beings, and should procure more glory for God,
and display all His attributes more, than when suns
innumerable, with their systems, bui-st into light and
motion, would have involved at once a disproportion
between the end and the apparent means, which would
take the work out of the reach of man's undei-standing,
and distinguish it as truly God's. And if we should
go on to hear, that in that Infant's birth was to be ac-
complished the destinies of four thousand years which
had preceded it, and prepared the blessing and happi-
ness of as many generations as may follow it ; that
whatever had been said or done glorious and great till
then was all for its sake ; still more if we should learn
that in that Child were united all the attributes of the
Godhead in their unlimited perfection, we must needs '
be overpowered with astonishment, and feel how unar
ble we are to comprehend, or to search into, the miracles
of God's power.

All these mysteries are comprised by St. John in
these solemn words :— " And the Word was made flesh,
ftuci dwelt amongst us, and we saw His glory, the glory
as it were of the only begotten Son of the Father, full
of grace and truth." (i. 14.) From this we learn that
the Word, that is the second person in the adorable

TUS IMOARNATION AND

Trinity, who wm " in th« bfginnlnof with God, Rnd wwi
Himself God," took to Himself this our mortal flesh,
ftSHumiiig the nature of man, so na to unite the twofold
iioture of God and man in one pemon ; that He was
horn into the world of the Blessed Virgin Mary ; and
growing up to man's eatate, convei-sed among men, till
by His death He wrought the salvation of mankind.

There are plant«,*my brethren, which live for many
years without producing a single blo8Sora,<=-their lot
aeems to be one of barren growth; generations of
leaves bud forth, flourish and wither ; new stalks and
branches sprout from year to year ; — still no indication
is seen of those fairer oniaments which form the crown
and glory of the vegetable world,— no flower no prom-
ise of fruit. At length the slow preparation of many
years is brought to light ; its flower appears : a few
houi-n of transient beauty and honor repay past and
tedious cultivation: anc with the production of its
long-matured growth, the destinies of the plant are
closed, it withers to rise no more. Is it wonderful,
then, that so many yeai-s of preparation should have
been ieeraed necessary, before the earth opened and
budded salvation, and "the flower rose from the root
of Jesse" (Is. xi. 1) ; and that, not to close mankiad's
existence, but to open to it a brighter and endless era
of happiness? It seemed necessary that the earth
should eara the blessing that was to be bestowed.
And how ? Even as one that is poor, gains more com-
passionate relief by the helplessness of his destitution ;
even as the sick or wounded wins for himself more
tender attention by the grievousness of his distemper,
by the hideousneaft of his sores. And so it seemed

l<iMl llW II I'

k»*«

BIRTH OP JERU8 CHRIST.

od, And WAS
lortHi flosb,
the twofold
hat Hh was
Mary; and
ng men, till
' mankind,
ve for many
i,<=-their lot
aerations of
V stalks and
to indication
n the crown
rev no prom-
ion of many
lears: a few
ay past and
iction of its
ie plant are
b wonderful,
should have
opened and
rom the root
le mankiad*s
1 endless era
it the earth
>e bestowed,
as more com-
} destitution ;
limself more
is distemper,
}o it seemed

proper to give full time for all the evils of a corrupted
heart to mature, .nnd all the growing diflacnlties of
indebted nature to accumulate, and all the excesses of
audacious passions to run riot to their utmost length :
till human remedies should have been pronounced
powerless, and the most sanguine hopes declared bank-
rupt, and all moral curbs and restraints had been either
broken or cast loose, or borne away in impetuous
course. It was proper, too, to give leisure for all hu-
man power and wisdom to try its skill upon the evils
that broke down prostrate humanity, to see what the
hand of iron rule could do towards checking the vio-
lence of lawless aims, and what the milder counsels of
aged wisdom could effect in taming the boisterous
passions, or in unravelling the perplexities of man's
nature, that seemed to have produced them. All had
been tried, and all had failed. Every empire that had
striven to subdue men by might, had stirred up to
higher excitement the woret of human passions, and
had deranged still further the moral order ; every new
sect of boasted wisdom had confused more fearfully
the simple principles of duty, and often darkened
rather, when it desired to give light.

Such are the moments when the Almighty loves to
step in, so to come between the creature and its despair,
and show His power when it may be undistinguishable
fi-om His goodness. He would not deliver Israel from
bondage, till intolerable hardships and crushing op-
pression had rendered it without hope. (Exod. ii. 28.)
When Essechias was beyond human cure, and had said,
" in the midst of my days I shall go the gates of hell"
(Is. xxxviii. 5), He added fifteen years to his life.

Tint INCABNATION AND

When tho 8i«teni of T^zartiH anked Him to cur« their
sick brother, H« allowed him to die thnt Ui« heneiit
luiKht be more Hignnl, in raising their dead than in
healing their sick. (Jo. xi. 14.) And ho in this more
grievous distrefw of all mankind, lie willed not that
men Hhould be able to say, "our mighty hand, and not
the Lord, hath done all thew things" (Deut. xxxii.
27) ; and therefore having given them omple space to
exhaust all their resources, He relieves us at once, ia
a manner as simple as it is wonderful, as mighty as it
is divested of splendor. God had been oflfended and
must be appeased ; man had fallen and must be raised :
such were the two objects to be attained. The re-
quired propitiation was for man ; who but mon could
be called upon to perform it? The infinite distance
between him and the offended Being, and the added
infirmity and worth' ssness of his fallen nature, dis-
qualified hira completely for attempting it : who but
God could pupply his deficiency ? By this marvellous
contrivance of Divine wisdom — by the union of God
and man in one pereon — by the coalition of the guilty
nature with the infinitely powerful, all was reconciled ;
the debtor in person discharged his obligations with
the riches communicated by the creditor himself. No
sacrifice was made of one just claim to another — no
compromise required between the harnionious attri-
butes of God ; justice received its due, told in sordid
value to its utmost tittle ; mercy stretched, unrestricted
and unembarrassed, its all-embracing arms; power ex»
erted its might with unlimited magnificsnce ; ond gra-
ciousness and love triumphed in a new display of un-
exampled oondescensioD.

inKTii or j»*irM OIIKIAT.

to cure their
t Hit heutiiit
end than iu
in this more
led not that
and, and nut
(I)eut. xxxii.
I pie Mpacti to
18 at once, ia
mighty as it
offended and
j8t be raised :
ed. The re-
nt man could
nite distance
nd the added
a nature, dis-
it: who but
is marvellouB
mion of God
of the guilty
IS reconciled ;
ligations with
himself. No
another — no
licnious attri*
old in sordid
I, unrestricted
IS ; power ex»
nee ; and gra-
iisplay of oo*

Moreover, see what immense advantages attended
this exercise «f ihnW \H)wer I (^mI hath appeared to
us; we know Him no h»nger in the abstract, or by
conjecture, but as vihible, as like to ourselves,— in the
form which we habitually love. He can be our
friend, one that hath partaken of our infirmities, that
hath been tempted like unto us, that hath suffered
mjrrow and tasted death. H.»w much lighter, too,
nnwt hirt coinmonds appear, 8iH)ken as they were by
* human mouth! Whei. God thundered forth His
law on Hinai, the people entreated Moses, saying,
"speak thou to us, and we will hear: let not the
Ix)r«l speak to us, lest we die." (Exod. xx. 19.)
And so, how raildened must not oil the precepts of
the New I^w appear to us, whan proceetling from
the lips of one so meek, so gentle, so atI*ectiouate in
our regard I

Still moi*e consoling is the consideration of the sub-
lime dignity to which we have l)een raised by the in-
carnation of the Son of God. If He stooped low, in-
deed, to accomplish it, He exalted us prop*utionably
high. Our nature subsiste in the Gotlhead, and sit-
teth at the i-ight hand of God, elevated above the an-
gelic spirits, whose nature He did not assume. Oh,
the immensity of the Divine wisdom and power which
are comprehended in this inestimable mystery!
What should we have been without it ? Poor earth-
born creatures, condemned for ever to creep upon the
surface of this world, or aspire, with ineffectual efforts,
after that higher state from which we had fallen!
Oh, how foolish is the wisdom of this world, its
tiobleat conceptions, its sublimest meditations, com-

tt TUB UIOAftXATlON AND

p«rtd with ita grtndoort How Iniu1«nt]«tf U mma^
mtnd to comprehonil it, now tiiat it lift. '»«««. r«ve»ied
to him I how much mor« heyotul tho ixboh »f hii aa-
ticipfttiont l>«fore it cmn« to immnI \ my«t«ry in f»ct
it iis «Ih)vo the sphere of •ngeli', m much «• of raen't,
thoughts !

But hitherto wo wem to h»ve confined our atten-
tion mainly to the T)ivine energy that planned and
executed this wonderful myntery ; it were time that
we turned our thoughts to Ilini who is its object;
ond if in the flitt view it has seemed to us a mystery
of wisdom and power, it will henceforth appear to as
a still greater mystery of goodness and love. I^et us,
for this purpose, draw nt^r to the birthplace of this
incarnate Word of God, and meditate upon his first
appearance amongst us. See then how Mary, con-
ducted by Joseph, undertakes a toilsome winter's
journey to Bethlehem, the city of David. The em-
peror has commanded all to be enrolled in their own
city or town ; and this blessed couple are obeying the
Iftw. Perhaps of all that travel towards the royal
city, none fn r> d<»8titute and helpless as they.
Every one pi».»<«<' ^'"' ■ on tho way; und when they
reach their j.\.ni'^y'h jnd, every lodging has been oc-
cupied, and they have no resource left them but a
miserable stable. Into this they retire, anl there, in
the silence of the night, Mary gives birth to her first-
bom, Jesus.

When the heir to a throne is born, proclamation if
forthwith made to ito subjects of the joyful event, that
they may attest theur loyalty. And accordingly, her*
the heralds of Heaven descend, and communicat« tht

>t« Im wm*t

.>f hia an*
\U3Ty in fact
lis of raen'a,

I onr atten*
launed and
u time that

its object;
t a mystery
Lppeai' to nt
ve. I^t us,
)lace of this
;)oa his first

Mary, con*
me winter's
1. The em-
n thi'ir own
obeying the
s tbo royal
it» as they.
. when they
has been oo-
them but ft
%t.\ there, in

to her firit-

>clamatton is
il event, that
rdingly, ber«
munioAta ths

BiuTii or iiKua oiiBivr.

glad Udicgi to a fi*w shepiierds, who seek the spot
daterib«d to them, and fltid tLi> ChiUI.

The feelings of the p-incipnl ^ctors in the moving
scenes oi* our 8aviourV first night, aro almost too sacred
for us to attempt to analyse them. If u woman, wImmi
■he hath brought forth, hath joy, as our L^nd asm cs
m (Jo. xvi. 21), what cuwt have b«'<'n hern, who was
tlio first on earth to l(K>k upon the face of God's
Chriut, not only matlo man, but l)econio her Son ? Her
pleasing duty it was to take Ilim into ber arms and
warm His trembling limbs, and swathe them, and th^n
feast her eyes, through the long winter's night, upon
His sweet and smiling countenance. Ah ! what would
gilded roofs or painted palaces have been to her that
bight, in ejcchange fur the shattered shed through
which the piercing blast entered on every side.

No dreams of maternal ambition, no swelling
thoughts of what she one day may be, through the
glories of her Bon, disturb the pure unblended joys
of motherhood in her chaste and humble bosom.
Every toil and pain of the past journey and its dis-
tressing end — all sense of present loneliness, penury,
and cold, — every anticipation of a future career, be it
of splendor or of wretchedness, is swallowed up in the
one unalloyed happiness of possessing at that moment
■uch a son. As yet he hardly belongs to the world :
besides her faithful spouse, who adores in silence by
ber side, not a human being has yet passed the
threshold of their humble sanctuary, or ruffled the
itillness of the solemn ucene. Only Heaven has
ahared their raptares — on earth He is yet their own,
txolosiyely.

^ ,

TIIB INOABNATIOM AWD

Gaze on, maiden mother, while yet thou mayest, in
quiet and joy I Make thy firet draught at this fount-
ain of thy gladness, long and inebriating ! For soon
shalt thou be able to say to the daughters of Bethle-
hem, as did thy ancestress Noemi, " call me Mara, that
is, bitter; for the Lord hath filled me with bitterness."
(Kath, i. 20.) Soon shall t*e sword of Herod be
waved against thine Infant's head ; soon shall Simeon's
prophetic sword be in thine own heart, to banish for-
ever the peaceful visions of this night.

But hark ! faltering, reverential steps approach the
door of the miserable hovel : they are those of men
who hesitate if they may venture in. Is it from shame
of visiting so wretched a tenement ? or is it from awe
at what it hath been announced they shall find with-
in I They whisper and deliberate. The angel's words
were indeed explicit: he h"d said to them, "Fear
not : for behold I bring you tidings of great joy,
which shall be to all the people. For this day is born
to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, in the city
of David." When they had heard these words, their
hearts had fallen within them : how could they hope
to gain admittance to the cradle of this infant King!
Wherefore announce to th^m such tidings ? But what
a rush took place in the tide of their feelings, when
they heard the concluding words of the angelic er-
rand:— "And this shall be a sign unto you: you
shall find the infant wrapt in swaddling clothes, and
laid in a manger !" (Luke, ii. 12.) Eternal God ! and
was there ever another child born, of whom no better
descript- n could be given than this— You shall find
him laid in a manger ! No ; perhaps it is not upon

BSBT

-t»»-

BIBTH OS' JESUS CUBIST.

mayest, in
this fount*
For soon
of Bethle-
Mara, that
bitterness."
F Horod be
ill Simeon's
banish for-

)proach the
ose of men
from shame
it from awe
1 find with-
iSfel's words
bem, "Fear
' great joy,
day is born
in the city
words, their

they hope
ifant Kingt

Bat what
ilings, when

angelic er-
) you: you
clothes, and
al God ! and
>m no better
u shall find
is not upon

record that any one, before or since, had his flrai re-
pose in such a place. And could it have been be-
lieved that angels came down from Heaven to direct
men to one so meanly lodged 3 Yet it was even bo ;
and these simple men, so divinely guided, venture into
the presence of their infant Lord.

They pause upon the threshold : so calm, so pure, so
unlike this earth's is the scene that breaks upon them.
The venerable man who courteously and cheerfully
invites them to approach; that young, mild virgin-
mother, all radiant with humble, unaffected joy, whose
smile encourages them to draw nigher still ; that glorious
Babe, beautiful beyond the sons of men, whose eyes
already beam with intelligence and benignity : so peer-
less a group, containing every type of human excellence
and perfection, could not but appear even to eyes that
just carne from gazing on the multitude of the heavenly
host, a scene of another world, descended for the bless*
ing of men. How deep and ardent was their first ad-
oration, when, sunk in silence on their knees, they med-
itated upon the mystery of love that shone visible
before them. Perhaps as they became more familiar
with it, their first awe melted before the increasing
warmth of their feelings into tenderness; and they
ventured closer, till with the mother's meek consent,
they ventured to take in their arms and lovingly em-
brace the blessed Child.

And why, we may now perhaps ask, were these men
th 3i-st to be thus invited to pay their homage, and
form a court to the Saviour of the world ? Leaving
it to the wisdom of God alone to know the true mo-
tives of such a choice, we can surely discover a reason.

TU£ INCARNATION AND

in perfect accordance with the condact pursued hy di-
vine Providence in the entire mystery. Had not the
entire earth been put into commotion, that the Son of
God might be born in a stable ? For, a message from
an angel might have sent his parents to Bethlehem, as
one sent them into Egypt. But it was more conso-
nant to the dignity of God, and their virtue, that the
ignominious place of His bii-th should not have been
matter of command, but result from the presanre of
. events. For it would have hardly been a natural fnnt
of humility in one who knew she was to bring into
the world its Lord and Maker, to choose such a place
for this purpose ; neither can we imagine it to have
been enjoined her by His eternal Father. But had
they been sent to Bethlehem under ordinary circum-
stances, or perhaps when any less impelling motive
than an imperial decree had crowded to excess its
walls, they would have found a poor but decent lodg-
ing; and that extreme of poverty and abasement
would have been avoided, which forms the most strik-
ing, as the most touching circumstance in our Saviour's
nativity.

As, then, the Emperor's decree seems to have been
necessary to obtain this purpose, so does the preference
given to the shepherds seem directed to complete it.
Who so poor in the neighborhood of Bethlehem, that
he had not a roof over his head better than a deserted
stable ? What husbandman, what laborer, so destitute
as not to possess at least a hovel for himself and his
family ? And if any of these had been brought to
adore at the crib, having learnt who it was that lay in
it, must they not have done gentle violence to the holy

LL..

tfMROTHHM

BIRTH OF JKaUH CJrRIST.

raed by di-
ad not the
the Son of
issage from
thlehem, as
Qore conso-
le, that the

have been
presanre of
atural fnnt

bring into
uch a place

it to have
, But had
ary circum-
ing motive
> excess its
lecent Ibdlg-

abasement

most stiik-
ar Saviour's

) have been
i preference
somplete it.
lehem, that
n a deserted
so destitute
self and his
brought to
3 that lay in
! to the holy

fam'W, and obliged them to share their hearth and
board, and accept of such slender, bat better, accomo-
dation as their poverty could supply? But out of
every class, the shepherds alone, who spent their nights
in the open air, tending their flocks beside their watch-
fires, or at most beneath the scanty shelter of their
moveable tents, could not second any desire their
hearts might feel to better the condition of those whom
they at once revered and loved. They might press
upon them some small provision, as an offering of love,
but they could not ward off the wintry chill and dreari-
ness that surrounded them.

But why this poverty ? why this voluntary abjec-
tion ? Ah ! the heart that answers not this question
readily and decisively, must be dry and barren. If
the Son of God became man, it was from Iova for us ;
the principle that suggested the great act directed all
its circumstances. He might have appeared to the
world, and have performed all that He did for its re-
demption, without our being made acquainted with the
circumstances of His infancy. The veil which over-
spreads His subsequent history, till His manifestation
before Israel, might have been extended over the
events of His birth ; and we might have known Jesus,
sufficiently for our salvation, as the Master who in-
structed us, and the Redeemer who died for us. But
He had two lessons to give us, which elsewhere He
could not so well have taught us as he did at Beth-
lehem.

And, first, we cling to the world with obstinate af-
fection from infancy to death. We wept and fretted
in our very cradle when we first felt discomfort ; and

2g THE INOABNATION AND

those first tea™ were but the first fruits of the solid-
tudes and anxieties which our love of perishable goods
continues to the end to cause us. We love our nehes^
our reputation, our ease ; we surround oui-selves with
comforts, and repine if they be taken from lis We
would not have affliction come near ««. »«*1/*^
the look of sorrow. We would fain that all the
crosses we must bear should be made of cedar and
that the lashes wherewith God scourges us should be
of silk. Now, then, look upon that Infant, who lies
upon a little bundle of straw, between the ox and the
a^ and tell me what you think of gold, and luxury,
and worship, and honor 1 Are they to be pmsed-
nay, are they to be spoken of in His presence ? Who
is iti "The wonderful, the Counsellor, God the
mighty, the Father of the world to come." (Is. ix. 6.)
And did He will to be laid upon so lowly a bed, and
to be attended with such mean state, and to be
clothed so poorly, and to be known so little : and
shall we. sinners ..nd poor slave*, afct great pomp
and service, and lose our peace if all things fall no
out with us as we desire? Oh ! such thoughts will
not brook the vicinity of that humble couch ; they
fit us not to enter in with the shepherds; they belong
to the rich and proud inhabitants of Bethlehem who
refused admittance to the poor, but most blessed

Darents of Jesus. , ^ u*

^ And if, in our dear Lord's nativity, we are taught
to despise th« vain delights of earth, we are surely
attracted by a sweet, but powerful, influence to cleave
to Him. When He took upon Himself our flesh, He
entered into Brotherhood with ns-He intended

H irl .ill l « i l ' i<!-' Wi»

the solici-
ible gooda
our riches,
elves with
I lis. We
, and bate
at all the
cedftT, and
) should be
t, who lies
ox and the
ind luxury,
B praised — •
Dce? Who
, God the
(Is. ix. 6.)
' a bed, and
and to be
little: and
great pomp
igs fall not
loughts will
couch; they
they belong
ilehem, who
noBt blessed

B are taught
e are surely
ince to cleave
our flesh, He
BLe intended

BIHTH OF J]»UB OURIBT.

thereby greatly to win our lore. Eveiy part of His
life presents us some peculiar incentive to atfection,
but none to the same familiarity of love as this of
His humble birth into the world. When we contem-
plate Him upon Calvary, giving us the raavellous evi-
dence of a love strong as death, there is in our returned J
affection a painful mingling of sorrow, of a culprit's
shame, a penitent's remorse, and withal, a bitterness
of sympathy which greatly disturbs the purity of sim-
ple love. When we behold Him breaking open the
bolts of death, and tiiumphing over the tyranny of
hell by His glorious resurrection, there is an admix-
ture of reverence and exceeding awe, which tempers
our affection and checks our familiarity. But here, in
His poor and rough bed of straw, all His majesty is
shrouded, all His dazzling and consuming brightness
drawn in. He seems to require our loving care, to
invite our caresses, and pure, tender, untempered love
is the exclusive feeling wherewith we view Him.
There is yet no stain of blood upon His tender flesh,
no reproaching gash, no ignominious crown. We can
imagine Him as yet unconscious of the pain He will
one day suffer for us, and of the ingratitude where-
with we shall requite Him : His present misenes seem
independent of our worthlessness, and such ^ we have
a full right to sympathize with.

And where would all this sentiment of sincere and
sweet affection have been found, had we been called
to meditate on an infant royally laid in a bed of state,
reposing upon cushions of down, and watched and
nursed by princesses? No; we should have turned
away, awed by it, or at least careless of its smile ; it

TH« CTOARK ATIOW AH2)

would have wanted nought from U8 — it wonld be
more able already to give than to receive. Bat had
we only come upon such a scene, aa that on which we
meditate, unawares— had we casually, seeking shelter
from a storra, found two resigned and virtuous parents
in such a place, at such a season, nursing an uncon-
Bcions infant just born, through the lonely night, far
more would our hearts have been moved to tender
emotions, than by the pomp and grandeur of the hap-
pier child. And when it is no stranger that is thus
presented to us, but one of our own blood and line,
and closely related to us,— when it is no thoughtless
babe that stretches forth its hand by instinctive im-
pulse, but one that knows and loves us, and puts on
winning ways to arouse and allure our aflfections ; cold
and frozen beyond the winter's ice must our hearts be,
if in spirit, and with the arms of our affection, we re-
turn not the embrace, and prove that we should not
have been unworthy of admission to early and loving
familiarity with our Lord.

Yes, blessed Jesus 1 thanks, eternal thanks to Thee,
for having thought so well of the human heai-t, as to
put it to this proof of love 1 Grievous is its pervei^
sity, crooked are its ways, hard, too often, is its very
core ; but lost beyond redemption would it have been,
if no sympathy had been left in it for Thine infant
charms, Thine infant sufferings, and Thine infant love I
Thou hast found out th« way by these claims to win
our affections: keep them close to Thee, to grow with
Thy growth, till they ripen to full maturity upon Cal-
vary, and follow us thence into the kingdom of love 1
With such feelings, my brethi-en, we will celebrate

BIKTII OF JE8U8 CHRIST.

wonld be
Bat had
which we
ing shelter
>us parents
an uncon-
\f night, far
i to tender
of the hap-
bat is thus
1 and line,
thoughtless
tinctive ini-
tnd pnts on
itions; cold
ir hearts be,
ition, we re-
should not
and loving

the coming solemnities, with admiration at the magni-
ficence of God's power and wisdom, manifested in the
Incarnation of the uncreated Word, and in grateful
affection for the love displayed to us in His birth into
the world. We will not allow these days to run away
in mere festivity and amusement, but in sober joy we
will unite ourselves to the shepherds of Bethlehem, to
spend some hours at least in devout and feeling medi-
tation by the humble manger. The year will thus
close upon us with sentiments worthy of our Chris-
tian vocation, and the next will open with fervent de»
sires and renewed endeavore to walk with Christ in
newness of life, to the full participation of those
abundant mercies which His incarnation and bii'th
brought into the world.

lies to Thee,
heai't, as to
i its perver-
, is its very
b have been,
Chine infant
infant love I
laims to win
grow with
by upon Cal-
om of love 1
ill celebrate

SERMON II.

Matt II. ».
.Wta. taH.«».l.b». Kin, f .!»'"•' '-"';r — '^•"

THiTmany would be found in ouv time ready to

th.tm.ny.bold traveller would P>;7»'''''r'f '"7,
U, »«« inhoepitable d««rt^ and tr«=e th« »^«»'»
c„»r«, of «.n.e river, or to explore '■"•P'^ «f ""^^^
barharou. tribe; that brave ■"""«"'»» ,7"
hesitate aroid the rookt of the torrid, or the icebergs
oHhelro^n oeean, to make further re,eara«^» to
the directiou of current, or the dip of the nwdle or
to di«over «.me new and, perhape, impraoUoaW. ,»th
Zm ocean to ocean j or even that thie noble MnJ of
adventure may be .till fiirther ennobled by » g^™™
object such a. has been of late the ««. m the most
:p::dil eSor* of generou. pl'""'*^^ y*' ^ ":£
»rd, the desire to rewue from d»itruotion one ot
S martyr, of «ienc, the experience and observe,
tion of every day make, sufficiently evident
VI a .?y one should be prepared to encounter

.i>«d>.d la »om. d^tog *• 0«»". »"* " '"f r"*™^'' " *"

maamm'

ON TIIB KI'II'IIAKT.

Men Hli itar

) ready to
[)f science ;
iself ready
le obscure
;al of some
would not
le icebergs
rches as to
) needle, or
ioable path
,le b^arit of
J a glorious
in the most
yet on re-
bion one of
ad observar

it.

a encounter

■olemnly, m dM

similar risks and toil for the advancement of more moral
science, — if any one should be tbiind ready to under-
take such dangerous and distant pilgrimages for the
acquisition of mere truth, nay, for procuring acquain*
tance with the gi'eatest of truths, those of religion, it
would be a phenomenon, were it as common as it is
rare amongst us, which could hardly be explicable on
the laws which now rule the world. And yet in other
times it has not been so. From that distant day when
a queen of the East came to Jerusalem to visit Solo-
mon, not that she might be admonished by hi.< riches
and magnificence — for she came with camels laden
with gold and spices and precious stones — but, as our
Lord tells us, attracted by his wisdom, that she might
make experiment of it by putting to him hard ques-
tions; through those remote ages when the Catholic
scholar went from every part of Europe, and even
from more distant continents, across mountains and
seas, to visit the schools of that western island by
whose ministers this wisdom of religious truth was so
excellently taught ; through those subsequent periods
when any eminent teacher and expounder of God's
Word or of the laws of the Church, whether at
Padua, at Paris, or at Oxford, was sure to collect
around him thousands of hearers eager for spiritual
truth, there has been in the world, almost until our
present time, a series of men of whom the kings of
the East that came to visit Jerusalem and Bethlehem
at the time of our Saviour's birth, have been justly
considered as the type. It is on this account, there-
fore, that the Church of God has considered them as
the first fruits of the Gentiles, even as the shepherds

OH 11UI xnnuHT.

were the first fruit* of the Jew»— m the represent*,
tives of those jwrsons who should come in multitudes
from age to age to be instructed by the Church of
God, as representing to us, by their conduct, the prin*
ciples and causes by which these multitudes were to
be so brought They are on that account chosen as
the representatives of that system of conversion, which
the Church of God has at all periods endeavored to
pursue over the entire world.

And a religious society that devotes itself, in Rome,
to the great work of the apostleship, has most be-
comingly selected the festival of our Lord's Epiphany,
which commemoratt's that singular visit, as the one in
which they desire to obtain from God that assistance
and that grace, to which alone they wish to refer,
and not to any human means, their work and any
success in the conversion of the Gentiles. To-day
this festival, or rather series of festivals, has closed.
There have been day by day discourses addressed to
you in divers languages; divine worship has been
performed in a variety of liturgies, in which the
language and the details might differ, yet which
presented but one essential act of worship, and in
which all who took part were united closely by re-
ligious and ecclesiastical commuaion with the one
Catholic Church.

I come, therefore, before you as the gleaner of a
wellreaped field, to follow those who have, no doubt,
treated in your presence the great principles emltodied
in this celebration, leaving me only to gather and
join together a variety of topics which may not, per-
haps, be 80 sU-ictly united as a more set discourse on

it'^UftJif^-^'^l-'''^-' •

?^^rtS32^

saausuuuES

z^m:3si:Tsmmm3mmm0)m

iSWB'""

present*"
ultitudtfi
burch of
the prin-
I were to
choeen aa
on, which
Rvored to

in Rome,
moat be-
Spiphany,
Lhe one in
aasistance
to refer,
and any
To-day
laa closed,
dremed to
has been
vhich the
^et which
ip, and in
lely by re-
i the one

saner of a
I no doubt,
I emltodied
gather and
,y not, per*
scourse on

oir niK Ki'iruAinr,

one point wonid ; but which may present to yon a
variety of inntruotiun, and that v( a Bumewhat practi-
cal nature. It ifi a homily, if I may mo speak, on the
Gospel of the Epiphany, rather than a sermon, which
it is my intention to deliver.

First, my brethren, accompany mo in spirit to the
country lying east of Judea, in which we shall And those
good men, whose companions we are intending to be,
during their pilgrimage to Judea. They are men, we
cannot doubt, of high station and abundant wealth.
They will bear with them royal gifts, gold and spices
of the East, like what the queen brought as a fitting
present to king Solomon. They will go across the
desert with ample treasures, — nay, the dromedaries of
Madian and Epha will l)e in their trmn ; a very flood
of camels, according to the language of prophecy, w to
pour on Jerusalem when they approach it. Their com-
ing will set the whole city in commotion, not as the
advent of a few insignificant travellers ; for they will
be worthy to be received in private audience by Herod,
and they will be considered of sufficient importance for
the priests to be assembled, to answer the questions
which they had to put.

They are, moreover, men distinguished not only by
lineage and position, but also by intelligence and
learning. They have observed the stars with such
watchfulness, with such experience and skill, that they
have in a moment detected the appearance of a new
heavenly body in the firmament. They have been able
to calculate its laws of movement ; they have seen that
it tends to a distant direction, that it is not like the rest
of the celestial bodies, a fixed star ; they have con-

^^^^^^▼^

10 on tax ju'iruAifT.

dude^l from UiU that it ii • •iffti that point* to lome.
thing elw, or that it is c<.unect«d with mnw gr««t
•vent Bat if w« aunlyiw thin knowltMlg« which th«y
powH^wi. and note how it became to them of a practical
character, we nhall aee that it ia compowd of two dis-
tinct part* ; the flrtt comI-Ui of the |>ow«r of obaerviwg
the phenomena of nature, of i«««o.ung concernmg them,
and of coming to accurate concl.wions from th.MU.
But thia woultl not have V)een aufflcient. We canuot
doubt that they aliio had a higher and nobler source
of knowledge ; the very words which they spak when
they come to Jerusalem, prove to us that their obser-
vation of nature had received a comment from revelaj
tion, which they had carefully studied, or which had
been treasured up in the traditions of their tubes. A
propUet of Asia had spoken, muny ages before, words
to which their expressions %ccurately apply. " Wheie
is He" they ask, "that is born King of the Jews?
For we have seen His star in the East, and we are
oome to adore him." The appearance of this particu-
lar star indicates a birth; it indicates the birth of a
king, not in their neighborhood, not in the centre of
Asia, but in the regions of the West ; a King of Judea
must have been born wheu it tiroee; for we find the
words of a mysterious prophecy laid up in the faithful
memory of the East : " A star shall rise out of Jacob,
»Dd » sceptre shall spring up fi-om Israel." (Num.

xxiv. IT.)

This star it the star of Jacob ; a new sceptre, a now
prince, who will be greater, higher, and nobler than
an^ who have preceded him, shall spring up lu the
land of Judea. Uniting these two together, they un-

ON TIIK KI'irilAtTT.

»t

to loine-
lie gr««i
lich they
pi-actical
two diN-
ilmerving
ing them,

>lll th«MU.

'o cannot
er louroM
«ak whtiD
leir olwwr-
)in rovelft-
yhich had
;iibes. A
Df©, word*
"Where
the Jewal
nd we are
lis partiou*
birth of a
J c«ntre of
g of Judea
re find the
Lhe faithful
it of Jacob,
L" (Num.

ptre, a now

lobler than

up ill the

er, they un-

dnnitand that thin beacon ia int«nd«^d to guide their
•ttjpi on th«ir jHTilous journey across the dtaert, to
tmk Ilim ; and with noble reaolutiou they at once un-
dertake the tn«k.

If we now puniuo the courie of conversion further
•till, we ihall nee how these two means have been
thosn which IN'ovidenro has UNcd to bring to tliu
knowliulge of (/hrintinfiity, and to communion with
the Church, great mnltitu(l<*fl of nationx. For this
twofold ray, the natural jmwer of reasoning on phe-
nomena which fall under the dominion of the senses,
and the being guided by the testimony of the inspired
word, which, united together, form the star that led
the wise men from the V]nst, has formed the two
means whereby the conversiou of mankind has been
wrought.

Imagine soon after the appearance of this stiif, a
moral and sincere heathen looking abroad on the
world. He sees all that is barbarous in it immersed
\n darkness, and hideous immorality coiTU[)ting the
more civiliBed portion. He sees that wonderful mys-
tery, the inequality between different states, — the vir-
tuous man oppressed, ruined, crushed by the foot of
the powerful ; the dating sinner exalted, flourishing,
and enjoying to the moment of his death all the hap«
pinrss of this world. Where, he asks, is the solution
of this wonderful, this strange, this dark and afflicting
mystery ? He knows not where to find it. He sees
man, whom he has studied in himself and others, evi-
dently a creature of noble destiny, and fully endowed
with powers necessary to attain it ; bnc at the sume
time weakened, broken, rained in every faculty of bis

ON THE EPIPHANY.

mind, and in every feeling of his heart. There he
sees him lie, with the consciousness that he in but the
wreck of his noble self, and anxious to raise himself
from his degradation, but sinking every moment lower
and lower, and unable to accomplish that for which he
knows he was created. Where shall he seek for a
suflficient solution of this wonderful mystery ? Where
will the means be found to accomplish that which he
sees Nature cannot do ? This reasoning is the star
which will lead him forward. He will seek on every
side where this wonderful problem may be solved,
and that star leads him to the East and to the West,
to India, or to Chaldea, or to Egypt, or to Greece, or
to Rome, and he asks priests and scribes in all those
places, and they tell him nothing ; he ie still in sor-
rowful darkness, and he knows not where he shall
come to the light.
- But at last he learns that it has broken forth. He
has heard with the wise men of the East that there is
a child born, — that in that child is the wonderful
mystery which he sees gradually developed, — a mys-
teiy which presents, as clearly as does the sun, a light
that at once sheds a brilliancy over all that till now
has perplexed and darkened him. The judgment to
come of justice and retribution, from which the Gen-
tiles shrink, is to him a lesson of consolation. There,
he is told, will be the final decision by which virtue
and vice will be put in their proper place and proper
light, where reward eternal and punishment perpetual
shall be allotted to each ; and that child comes as the
judge that is to render this righteous judgment to the
entire world. But how is it possible that in one

yiiUi,!^

'■ '■^'"^■'-■^- i li-Ti ii j^-.!v.'»^Jiit^^-i.'!-.^i..^- -'-:■-. t-i:..-.-j--j^>j»^-'V f.ii.-t;v.-iMf.wi. .i-..-!; -, .iiu:t.\j^^

There he
18 but the
se himself
aent lower
• which he
leek for a
I Where
which he
3 the star
c on every
be solved,
the West,
Greece, or
Q all those
till in sor-
e he shall

forth. He
lat there is
wonderful
id, — a mys-
inn, a light
at till now
dgment to
I the Gen-
>n. There,
hich virtue
and proper
t perpetual
)mes as the
nent to the
hat in one

ON THE EPIPHANY.

child this great, this magnificent and divine office
shall be lodged 3 And this is not all ; the child, too,
comes on the express understanding of teaching the
doctrine itself which solves the whole of the enigma ;
man has fallen, who was created for greatness and
glory : he fell by his own act, was helpless, and has
remained so until a Redeemer has come — a child, in-
deed, but one who will bear on Him the iniquity of
the world. But how is it possible that both these
sublime offices of God and Redeemer should be com-
bined, and that in one infant ? When he hears the
whole of the mystery, that that child is not merely
the son of man, but that He is God incarnate, then all
is clear, all is simple. In Him is that power, that
might, that wisdom, that love, that immense goodness
and mercy which can alone devise and do a divine
act, which can alone empower its performance; and
in Him also are the claims and the rights of man,
which authorize Him to make use of these great at-
tributes for what might otherwise appear an unlearned
and undeserved pui-pose. The union of God and
man, of God and the Redeemer— the appearance of
this solution in the world, at once clears oflf all diffi-
culties. The aincere heathen believes all by simple
contact with its performance; it meets the problem
at every part, it adapts itself to eveiy, the smallest
and feeblest of doubts, and he embraces at once
Christianity, after he has been fully instructed — by
instruction, every word of which only further strength-
ens his convictions.

But the upright Jew, like Simeon or Zachary, has
no need thus to go abroad ; his star is in his hands,

i*'

ON TUB EPIPllANY.

and seated whether among the columns of the Temple,
or amidst the balsams of Jericho, or under the waving
cedare of Libanus, or beneath his own fig-tree like Na-
thaniel, he unrolls the sacred volume before him, and
there, sincere, honest, and virtuous, he endeavors to
unravel the mysteries which it presents. The time is
come, and must now indeed have reached its maturity,
when the prophecies of which he has long been reading
must be fulf '^ed. But he still finds so much of doubt,
80 much of difficulty, that he seeks somewhere for the
solution. There is the prophecy which speaks of a
magnificent kingdom to be established over the entire
world. A King is to come as the mighty conqueror of all
nations, and at the same time he finds that He is to l>e
poor and weak, riding on an ass, that His hands and feet
are to be pierced, that He is to be an outcast of the
people, and as a worm trodden under foot, and to be
computed among sinners, though at the same time He
is to be blameless before God. So the Jew, too, wrings
his hands ; he knows not which way to turn, and see
where it is possible to find Him who shall unite in
Himself these attributes of greatness and littleness.

His star is before him: let him follow it step by
step whither it shall lead him, and his doubts shall be
cleared up. Yes, he in time hears that One born in
Bethlehem has grown up, and is preaching among the
people. He goes forth into the wilderness, and wit-
nesses His actions: holiness, purity, and the sublimest
perfection, are manifested in His every word and deed ;
a power omnipotent is exerted in a variety of miracles ;
death and tl^e grave afe obedient to His voice ; kindness
and mercy, affectionate tenderness and forgivingness,

he Temple,
the waving
ee like Na-
•e him, and
ideavore to
The time is
IS maturity,
een reading
ih of doubt,
[lere for the
jpeaks of a
r the entire
jueror of all
He is to l>e
nds and feet
tcast of the
t, and to be
me time He
, too, wrings
irn, and see
kail unite in
ittleness.
IT it step by
ibts shall be
One born in
g among the
ess, and wit-
he sublimest
rd and deed ;
of miracles ;
ce ; kindness
orgivingness,

ON TUB KPIPIIANT.

and every attribute of a truly great and divine mind
are manifested in Him. He follows Him into a cavern
at night, and sees Him in " the prayer of God ;" next
sought to be made a king; still ever equally humble
and unpretending. He goes with Him to the supper of
the rich, and to the halls of the Temple, and finds Him
inflexible and stern in repi*oving vice ; in truth, he ob-
serves in Him every character of the great man whom
he expects to be the deliverer of his nation. He is of
the family of David, for He was born in Bethlehem,
according to prophecy. He exhausts all those grand
characteristics of one destined to rule his people and
lead them whither He wills. The Jew has found the
Messiah-— his Lord.

But his perplexity is not over. How can he
reconcile what he has henrd concerning: "the ser-
vant of God," described by Isaias (liii.), and the
great and beautiful things which he sees and hears ?
I will be, he says, one of those silent followere
in the footsteps of Jesus. And he will hear with
astx)nishment that the whole of Israel is in a ferment
of fury, and that He whom he has admired, and in
whom he has seen nothing but the great king destined
to free the people, is a captive and in bonds. He will
hear that He has been treated as a malefactor. His
heait will fail within him. He will hear how the
priests have accused Him ; how Pilate has condemned
and scourged Him, and that He is led now to be cru-
ciiied. He follows Him to Calvaiy. He sees Him,
meek and humble, nailed as a victim to the cross.
The truth of the two-fold prophecy rusjjhes on his
mind. The King of Israel crowned with thorns ; the

Rtft»IIMIMlMii

•WT"

4»

ON THE KPIPIIANT.

Saviour and Ruler of His people enthroned on the
cross; His hands that had to hold the sword to lead
them to victory, pierced with nails; and His head,
that had to be erect with the -sovereignty of the
world, bowed in death. He strikes his breast and says,
" Truly this is .he Son of Qod."

It was by this two-foL way that the Gentile and
the Jew were brought to the knowledge of Christian-
ity. The same cou'/se has been followed in one form
or another even until now. Let us then imagine a
pereon, in our times, anxious and eager for truth as
were those Eastern Kings, as were the sagacious Pagan
and the devout Jew ; and let us suppose that he has
aiTived at this conclusion more strongly than they
could have aoner-that however various may be the
forms of opinion, tnith must certainly be one. He
has wavered from side to side, and gone from place to
place, as he sought truth under various forms general-
ly conflicting, and he has at last sat down to reason,
by what means it can be found. He t^es up the. ar-
gument where the heathen and the Jew left it ; they
sought, he has found his Saviour ; he will say to him-
self, if the Son of God came down from Heaven to
teach mankind truth, surely the discovery of it cannot
be so difficult or so painful as I have found it. If He
came to establish His kingdom on earth, it must have
great and striking characteristics ; it must be ruled by
a principle which secures unity in belief, for otherwise
there cannot be truth ; it must have such authority
and power as to bring down the sublimest iutellects
into the acknowledgment and belief of all that it
teaches ; it must have wisdom which will raise the

led on the
•rd to lead
His head,
uty of the
Bt and says,

Jentilo and
f Christian-
n one form
I imagine a
)r truth as
iious Pagan
:,h8t he has

than they
may be the
e one. He
'om place to
nns general-
L to reason,
s np thear-
eft it; they

say to him-
i Heaven to
of it cannot
dit. If He
t mast have
be roled by
or otherwise
5h authority
est iutellects
' all that it
ill ruse the

ON THE EPIPHANY.

intelligence of the lowest and most ignorant to the
level of its sublime doctrines ; it must have the means
to make itself known so clear and obvious, that no one
can fail to find it.

And he, like the Pagan, has undoubtedly discovered
that man wants reparation, that he wants "Strength,
that he wants the means of attaining his high destiny
of a future and better existence ; and further, he is
convinced that, wherever that truth has been deposit-
ed, there are with it the means also of healing these
wounds of humanity, of strengthening that weakness,
of directing those steps, and of making him whom re-
demption found prostrate and wounded, able to walk
on boldly to the eternal crown th'at is prepared for
him. "That is what I should expect; reason and ar-
gument tell me that if the Son of God came and estab-
lished His religion in such a way as to be useful, effi-
cacious and profitable, I must naturally expect to find
Buch a body as this."

But he will not stop here ; he will take up the sa-
cred volume which the Jew has dropped, when he
has discovered that all that it contains is a type, —
when he has seen accomplished on Calvary the mys-
teries previously revealed, and waiting, expecting a
new and more perfect revelation. The Christian i^
search of truth takes up that volume, and finds added
to it a shorter, but at least a more perfect record, of
the thoughts and words of God. And there, does he
find that all is contradictory of what his natural sense
and reasoning have taught him to expect, in looking
for that which Christ has established on earth, for the
Bake of making known His truth ? He finds, on the

OK TlIB KPIPn.VIfT.

«^ 7, thftt, point l)y point, the two tally perfectly

1..V; -tier.

In the Old Testament are the description and
prophecy of a king<lora, where is union of peace and
truth : in the New Testament is the constitution of
the Church, in which unity is secured by infallible
teaching and direction, and in which, at the same
time, are all the means of grace, and abundant treas-
ures for the renovation of fallen man. There is bap-
tism to wash away original sin ; there is the food that
strengthens him to eternal life ; there is the forgive-
ness of sins, by which all transgressions may be can-
celled.

Then he, too, has found the star which he must fol-
low. He believes, he expects, he hopes that some-
where or other he may be able to find a system of
truth, a system of teaching, at least, which will have
all these characteristics of truth— one that will offer a
plain and easy path on which to walk with comfort
towards the goal of existence ; and he will hope to
find it abundantly furnished with whatever is neces-
sary to enable tlie poor lost creature — man — to per-
form deeds of virtue worthy of this end. Let him,
then, too, follow bis star, and see whither, by GodV.
blessing, it will lead him.

But tlie kings of the East start on their journey.
They must be struck with the difficulties that present
themselves at once before them. In the first place
they will, perhaps, be astonished at seeing how few
pursue the same couree as they do. Four of them, at
most, are recorded io have come to Jerusalem to pay
homage to the new-born King. Hov/ many thousands

y perfectly

iption Rnd
peace and
stitution of
y infallible
:; the sanoie
idant treas-
lere is bap-
e food that
ho forgive-
lay be caa-

le must fol-
that some-
i system of
h will have
will offer a
ith comfort
^ill hope to
ver is neces-
an — to per-
. Let him,
jr, by GodV,

eir journey,
that present
e first place
ng how few
of them, at
alem to pay
y thousands

ON THE KI'D'HANY.

Bad seen the star; how many hundreds had contem-
plated it; how many as learned as themselves had
watched it, and traced its laws ! How had these been
discussed,— how had the object to which it tended
been gradually made know to many ! Yet how few
had acted I The question further would present itself,
" Why should we go ? why should we move ? It is
true we see a star which seems to point to another
kingdom ; a new religion perhaps may spring up in
the West ; but our first duty is to our own country
an4 people ; why should we run the risk of following
a light which, after all, may mislead us ? Why need
we consider ourselves bound to abandon our homes,
our families, our kingdom, perhaps all that belongs to
us, to make foi-feiture of whatever is precious to us,
and follow a star of which we know not the past his-
tory, and are ignorant of the present purpose ? It is
better for us to remain ; let us wait a while and see
whither it may go ; let some one else try the experi-
ment, and when he reports, it will be time to move."
No, they simply considered that it was a sign ad-
dressed to them from Heaven ; and they determined
at once, without hesitation, to follow.

They did so ; and they had no reason surely to re-
pent of their obedience to the call of this voice from
Heaven. And we shall find this to be the histoiy of
conversion, in every other part of the world. God
may be said to have used two distinct methods, and to
have allotted them to distinct periods of the world.
One is when through performance of wonderful works,
through miracles, through signs in heaven or on
eai-th, by supernatural grace, eloquence and power.

«>■(«■

ON Tiue xririiAMY.

bestowed on a few obosen ierv«nt«, men came into
tlie Church in muUitude«. Such was the counw in
the first conversions in Judea; such was the effect
of the preaching of the great apostle of the Anglo-
Saxons, St. Augustine ; such, too, was the case with St.
Boniface, who carried the faith to Germany ; and such
was it, likewise, when St Francis Xavier went and bore
ito light and truth to the East But, with a few bril-
liant exceptions such as these, the work is slow, and
gradual, and individual.

For, after the first foundation of the Roman Church,
it was the consolation of Christians day after day to
hear, now that a member of the senate, now that one
high in the SUte, and again that an ofllcer of distinction
in the array, or perhaps a simple knight, had joined
the Church. Their ranks then swelled slowly ; God
was thanked heartily as each soul came in, and this
slow increase went on for three hundred years before
Christianity was sufficiently great to take on itself the
government of the world. Such has been often the
case, and is now ; and if we see that, through our hum-
ble ministry, God works thus, if we discover that one
by one we gain souls, we must not be astonished or
dejected, but feel that this is the course which God
has generally puraued. Should it please Him to re-
joice our hearts with one of those splendid religious
phenomena, which He has permitted only from time
to time, then, indeed, we will thank Him in the fulness
of our hearts ; but in the mean time let us be content
to go on sowing and scattering silently in the furrow,
and with tears, those seeds of His word, of which we
know that not one can fall in vain. >

ON TIIK XPIFIIANY.

came into

coureu in

the effect

ihe Anglo-

se with St.

; and Buoh

it and bore

a few bril-

bIow, and

m Gharch,
Pter day to
w that one
distinction
iad joined
)wly; God
Q, and this
jars befoi-e
n itself the
I often the
h onr hum-
er that one
lionished or
which God
Him to re-
d religious
• from time
the fulness
be content
the furrow,
f which we

Bat whither are the wise men of the East led ? Does
the star at once conduct them to the point at which
they aitn ? No, Providence has been pleased to give
us a further lesson. God wished that, in addition to
that guidance which their own reason, reflected on th»
word of prophecy, had till now given them, they should
receive strouger testimony still, and that from unwil-
ling teachers,— from the very enemies of Him towards
whom they were journeying.

It was natural that they should go to Jerusalem.
The King of the Jews was born. They are come to
seek Him ; and where more naturally could they ex-
pect to find Him than in the royal city ? They expect,
on approaching Jerusalem, to see signs of gladness, re-
joioing, and jubilee, and thanksgiving; they expect to
find the Temple garlanded, the priests in their noblest
robes, and the Levites leading the chaunts of the mul-
titude ; they expect to find the roads filled with pilgrims
on their way to pay the same act of religious worship
which they are about to render. How diflerent is the
reality ! Not a pilgrim is wending his way towards
the city. They enter in and find it the same as usual ;
its business of eveiy-day life, its traffic md its litiga'
tion, its disorders and its military oppression, are all
going on, as if no great event had oocuned to excite
curiosity in the population, or increase the tid^ of ordi-
narj' joy. Jerusalem shows no symptoms of conscious-
ness that He is come into the world, of whose coming
they have no doubt.

The faith of the wise men may waver, but they
cannot doubt they are right in their search, and here-
they must discover all they wish to know. Yes,

"m*

Olf TIIK Kl'irUAMT.

whither Hhall th«y go but to the chief of that prlent-
hood which i« in cIoimj alliance with the HUte, which
givcH it information on all that n-latea to religioun
duties, which ex|K)»ndH articles of faith, and id aup-
ported and maintained in i)orap and greatnew by the
monarch of the Jewi \ It is among them naturally—
it, ia with the national religion firmly established by
the law of the land, that they must expect to find
all that their star has brought them to seek. "Where
is He," they ask, " that is born King of the Jews?"

Jerusalem is dismayed. Herod and his city are
troubled, and at what I They fear that a disturbance
is going to take place in the quiet and unruffled
course of affairs in the kingdom; that men are come
from a disUnce to ask questions which it is trouble-
some to answer ; that a rival power is about to arise
which will disturb the Church and State iu Jerusalem.
But they receive the testimony which they seek.
If that King is to be born, if there is to be such a
manifestation, it is not in great and noble Jerusalem
they must look ; they must go to little Bethlehem, a
mean and poor city at a distance, and there, perhaps, if
He has been heard of, they may find what they desire.
How is this the history of many a soul, of many a
one who is here present, and who had pursued that
reasoning which I have described— who had felt in
bis mind the assurance that there must exist on earth
a living Church— a body that can teach, a body that
can guide, a body that is the depositary of truth-
one which is plain and simple, one which makes no
doctrines, one which unites the extremes of great and
Uttle within herself; one, also, that opens her mater-

liat pHMt-
tate, which

religions
md in Slip
iioM by the
[laturally—
kbliahed by
eot to find
t. "Wher«
jJewsT

is city ar«
distarbanoe
d anrnffled
in are come
is trouble-
tout to Hrise

1 Jerusalem,
they seek.

) be such a
e Jerusalem
(ethlehem, a
3, perhaps, if

they desire.
I, of many a
ursued that

had felt in
dst on earth
a body that
y of truth —
;h makes no
of great and
) her mater-

ON TIIM KPIPIIANr.

nal hmom to give noarishment to those that want it,
and cifunses from niii, and strpngtheus to life iu Christ,
which the soul nciuires. Many a one who has
reasoned thus, and, studying the Word of God, lias
•aid, such a body, such a kingdom, such a society must
exist, and muat have these great charact ristics of
unity, firmness, and infallibility in teaching; many «
one who pursues this reasoning, this star that guides
him, goes at once there where all his feelings, all his
sympathies, where all his natural prejudices even
would carry him : and he has thought that there it
must be found— there where all is so noble, so great,
so learned, that it appears outwardly to contain
within it all the elements of which he is in search.
They have gone to the priests of that Church, to the
high priests, to the scribes and learned men, and have
asked for the solution of their doubts, for the direo-
tion which they have sought. Wljat has been the
answer they have received ? " Do you come to seek
for exemption from doubts as to yonr faith ? do you
seek to avoid the painfulness of inquiry? do you
come to us to reconcile conflicting opinions by pro-
posing to yon a cert^.in, fixed, and definite mode of
belief? We profess to have nought of the kind
among us; we claim not the power thus to exempt
you. Do you come to us for an infallible creed, for
an unerring guide who will teach you authoritatively
and with certainty, that if you believe every word it
teaches, you believe only the Word of God? Go to
Rome, you that want doctrines like these ; they are
found in the Vatican, they are taught and maintained
in the Catholic Church, not in the Apostolic Church

OM mi sptpiiANr.

of Englftnd. You Imvo come to niik for tlin powflr of
npproiu^hing iiflartsr to your Saviour incartmt«. You
lmv») ftn i(l«'ft iti your mirul whl''h is the result of your
reniliujaf, hut which U (ulm and htMt-tical. If you wiHh
'to approach and wornhip Tiirn uoarer, go to denpisnnl
Btithlehem— go to the Catholic Church: you will
there be told that put before you on the nltnr ii
truly that same child as the kings found : but in
our Church we pretend to have no such object of
adoration."

Thus baffled, they may have turned away disappoint-
ed and humbled, with broken hearts and broken hopes,
and fof a time they have faltered, whether or no they
should give up the search for ever; for they from
whom they expected comfort and direction, they to
whom the star had guided them, have coldly cast them
away. But no, they go forth, turning their backs on
those false leudei-s. Their star will reappear ; the same
force of convincing reasoning will tell them that truth
is still to be found on earth. And it may be that
they think where indeed are they to find it ; but be
certain that the guide which has brought them thus
far, will not lead them wrong. Yes, they have turned
their backs on the noble cathedral, and on the pealing
anthem, and its sweet and ancient recollections, on its
elegant discourses, on its respectable woi-shippers, and
they must move away sorrowing, until they come hith-
er where the star directs them.

Then they say, " Must we enter here ? is it here
that we are to find what has appeared so great and
noble in our minds, greater than what we have left be»
hind ? They enter, and they enter precisely as did

i« ]V)Mrflr of
nate. You
uilt of your
If you wihIj
to dempiiitKl
: you will
;he Altar it
nd : but in
ti object of

(lisappoint-
oken liop»'«,
' or no they
r tht*y from
ion, they to
ly cnst th«*ni
ir bnclcA on
ir ; the anme
n that truth
imy be that
1 it ; but be
t them thus
have turned
i the pealing
;tion8, on its
ihippers, and
y come hith*

? is it here
10 great and
have left b©-
ibely as did

OUT m tmpnAiTT.

thfl wIm men of th« Eawt. For if, my brethren, you
might happen to \m in nomo couutry-plaee in Kngland,
what r hftv«nai<l would »>« literally true; and after*!,
you had abandoned for over, it might be you wo\.H^
have to pause for a moment on the threshold of Home
garret, or loft over a stable, in which alone the Cath-
olio Church is allowed to offer worship. And then
you would go in with thixie wise men ; you would
ben«l lowly to pass under the humble door; you would
indeed have lost f«ight of the star, but you would
then truly believe for the flrnt time, you wouhl then
for the first time fall down mu\ mlore. There is around
yon nothing but what is mean and humble. There are
■hepherds in their coarse attire ; there are reapers from
the neighboring island, an assembly of people of lowly
and poor condition. But there for the first time you
feel that you have become associated with the Saints,
with the patriarchs and the apostles of the Old and of
the New Law, who bnng you into communion with all
that is great and holy in the Old ami the New Testa-
ment. There, for the first time, you become acquaint-
ed with her who is both Mother and Virgin, the very
thought of whom speaks tenderness to the heart of
the Catholic. There, for the first time, you are truly
introduced to the joy of earth and Heaven : for you
are in the presence of Ilim whom the wise men of the
East saw and adored ; and with them yon believe and
adore. To believe and to adore, — these are the two
great objects to which the star guides every one that
is brought to the Church of God; and these two
words are all that I need explain, to bring this dia-
Aourse to its conclusion.

— TMBI

g2 ON TIIE EPIPHANY.

« To believe 1" you will say. « Have I not believed
till now? I8 belief more than a sincere deep and
earnest conviction of the truths we hold « 1 know
not how I can better describe the nature of true be-
lief or faith, in distinction from every other sort of
conviction or opinion, than by reference to that figure
of iLht which has guided us .till now Dunug the
Le that you have been seeking after the Church of
God, you have been following the guidance of a star.
That star diffuses no light around yon; it is a lumin-
ous point at a distance, and nothing more The rav
between it and you is dark; you can only direct your
coui-se towards it. But it enables you to do nothing
more; it lights not even your path on your journey ;
Thelpsyounotto read the inspired book that you
bear with you. You want a very different light when
'you have reached your goal. To illustrate my meaning
I suppose that it is your wish to become acquamted
with all that God has done for man m the system ot
nature, and in the system of grace; man's destiny and
end ; what He has done to make him what he is, and
whai he is to be ; in fact, the whole system of religion
natural and revealed. It is as though you had entered
in the dark into a g.-eat and magnificent ediflce-let
it be one of those old cathedrals to which I have al-

'^ Youtave'determined to make yourself ajjquainted
with the whole inteiior; so you light your lamp, and
• Ko from place to place, and examine it on every side.
The moment you cast your light on one spot, and have
briefly illuminated it and studied it, you move on and
it returns to darkness : that shifting light only gleams

»aJJ!)aS.feMJ.>lt ! .ai.WMB i iffi ' ^M ^ ^ ^ ^

mmm

b Relieved
deep, and •

1 know
»f true be-
er sort of
that figure
during the
Church of
) of a star.
13 a lumin-
, The rav
direct your
do nothing
ar journey ;
Ic that you
light when
oy meaning,
I acquainted
B system of
destiny and
\,t he is, and
I of religion,
had entered
edifice — ^let
i I have al-

f acquainted
ar lamp, and
1 every side,
pot, and have
move on Mid
b only gleams

ox THE SPIPHAinr.

upon single objects. You raise high your lamp, and
in vain endeavor to reach the loftier parts of the struc-
ture. You lower it into the crypt below, and it only
discovers impenetrable gloom ; and there are parts on
every side, with which it seems impossible that you can
become acquainted. It is a work of endless search ;
and, in the end, you have no idea of the bearing of
its parts, of its relative proportions, of the talents of
those who designed, and the skill of those who erected
the structure.

Then, you may say, I will not be thus content with
my own small light; I will collect the brilliancy
which others' wisdom and experience have cast on it.
I will concentrate the lights which skilful and learned
men have thrown upon it. In one part it will be a
torch burning with single but with biilliant splendor ;
in other parts, there will be collected a multitude of
tapers, diffaisirig their joint radiance in every direction.
And what is the result ? In proportion as I have pro-
duced a dazzling glare, I have deepened the shades ;
there are places where the light cannot enter ; it can-
jiiii, soar to the highest and most delicate portions of
the structure : it cannot find its way into the gloom
below ; while graceful objects are cut in two by the
light and shade, and made to appear monstrous by the
relative forces of dark and luminous. In fine, I have
made myself no better acquainted with the edifice
than I did by my own unaided efforts.

Then what ohall i do s Sit down and weep, and
complain that God has made religion so laborious,
6noh an endless task, that it is impossible, by the com-
bined genius and efforts of men, ever fully to explore

l'WK^^IM■ta•MH

H » II II LU

" *■»'

ON THE EPIPHANY/

it ? No I the foolish wisdom of this world, is not that
the light that you have kindled ? Wait with patience
until the sun shall arise, and then you will find it illu-
minate the whole magnificent edifice. It will not be
a ray, but a light which will not strike with partial
intensity some points, but will diffuse itself throughout
the building ; it will creep into every nook and cranny,
it will find and bring every beauty t it. The whole
will be steeped in a uniform and cheering brightness,
and you will be able to comprehend the harmony of
details, and the grandeur of the entire structure.

Those lights represent reason endeavoring to grasp
and comprehend the works of God ; that sun that hft3
risen is faith, which convinces you more than any
speculation or argument can do, that it is a true light
which God has given you. It is to us a universal ra-
diance which makes us acquainted with the whole
system of religion. It is not necessary for us to give
up three or four years to the reading of ancient au-
thoi-8, in order to discover that God has established
His Church with its mighty prerogatives on earth.
We need not devote several years to convincing our-
selves of the existence of a sacramental system. We
.have no necessity to come and study the historical
monuments of Home, in order to satisfy ourselves of
the supremacy of Peter, and his successora. We have
not to satisfy ourselves that the intercession of sainta
may be safely practised ; we have no need of studying
point by point the system of religion ; but the whole
of it, under the light of faith, coheres, and is so equally
lighted, that it is as instinctively clear to us as are the
objects which we see by the light of the sun.

".llWllfcl. ' Ji < 4lUii l ')JA ' ..i ' l-

ON THE EPIPHANY.

9 not that
b patience
ind it illu-
nW not be
th partial
hroaghout
ad cranny,
rhe whole
brightness,
armony of
ture.

g to grasp
n that hfta

than any
true light
liversal ra-
the whole

ns to give
ancient an-
sstablished

on earth,
incing our-
item. We
) historical
urselves of

We have
a of sainta
)f studying
; the whole

so equally
> as are the
a.

And it is like the light of the sun to us, for we en-
joy its rays as it comes direct to our souls, or as it is
reflected by earthly objects ; by it we walk ; in it we
recruit ourselves ; under it we refresh ourselves ; we
enjoy it, even as we do the air of heaven ; we bask in
it ; we inhale it in our hearts ; we feel it in our inmost
principles and souls. The whole of religion to us is
80 natural, so simple, that faith supersedes every other
inward light; it often supersedes those intellectual
lights, which others use to relish the beauties that sur-
round us. And we find oureelves in the full posses-
sion and understanding of that knowledge which
to others has been the object of endless research.

The wise men, as soon as they entered the stable of
Bethlehem, believed far more than wh0& the priests of
Jerusalem instructed them, or when the star firat ap-
peared. For the sight of the infant and the smile of
His countenance, enkindled within them the light of
faith ; so that each was ready, at once to die for that
little which he had seen. And so those who have
laboriously toiled, and found their way into the Cath-
olic Church, expedience a new sense developed within
them, — a sense which as naturally takes in the spirit-
ual light, as the eyes of those whom our Lord miracu-
lously cured received the light of heaven. Thus they
find themselves on a level with those who, from their
infancy, have been nurtured in the Church : for faith,
which is bestowed by the sacraments, enables them to
receive, without doubting, every doctrine that is
taught them. •

And once believing, they for the first time adore.
For adoration is not what may be considered the

4mm

OW THE EPIPHANY.

privilege or posseaaion of any one who believes ia
God • it does not consist in an act of worship, where-
by we acknowledge Him as God, whereby we express
our gratitude to Him, or entreat His mercies. It
consists in an awful, yet sweetest feeling, that you
are in the immediate vicinity, in very contact of God,
yea, of God in the flesh, like as they felt of whom we
read that they cast themselves down at His feet and
worshipped Eim. It consists in the annihilation of
the very powers of the soul, which leads to the pros-
tration of the body, its natural representative, on the
very ground beneath Him. It consists in the assur-
ance that His hand is extended over us, that His eye
is fixed on us, that His heart darts rays of compassion
and love to our hearts, as if they were beating the
one on the other. Then we feel as St. John must
have felt at the Last Supper; or as St. Peter, when
he begged Him to depart from him, a sinful man ; or
as the wise kings, when they kissed His feet, an m-
fant in His mother's arms; with a love which burnt
up self in sacrifice, pure and unreserving. •

This is, then, the coui-se which God has always fol-
lowed, from the first manifestation of the star to the
individual, until he is united to that mass of worship-
pers and believere who stand around His altar, with-
out distinction as to their arrival earlier or later,
whether they have come to venerate at the dawn of
day, or not until the setting of the sun.

Nothing now remains, my brethren, but to address
to you a few words of. exhortation, that you study
well the lessons which our Gospel gives you, and to
endeavor to arrive at what it points out.

HHH i imUMM,U »i .

(lieves in
p, where-
e express
rcies. It
that you
;t of God,
whom we
s feet and
Illation of
» the pros-
ve, on the
the assur-
at His eye
ompassion
leating the
Fohn must
eter, when
il man ; or
feet, an in-
hich burnt

always fol-

star to the
of worship-
altar, with-
sr or later,
he dawn of

b to address
you study

■"»-- ■ I'll

ON THE EPIPHANY.

yo»,

and to

To you that have recently received, and are now in
possession of, this faith ; to you who have gone
through the course Which I have inadequately de-
scribed, who have had to part with your homes and
to turn your backs on all that was dearest to you on
earth ; to you who manfully set out on the search,
and. having crossed the shifting desert of speculation,
having wandered through many regions of theoiy,
came at last to what you deemed the true Jerusalem,
and were pushed aside, and left to go on your way
sorrowing ; to you who, having experienced the pang
of separation from whatever seemed holy, and was
dearest to your best affections, and having felt a pain-
ful shudder at stooping over the threshold of a very
stable, now find yourselves associated with those
whom you had previously despised, — to you, as to
ourselves, I can • only speak those splendid words of
prayer which the Church repeats in the Collect of
this day, "that we, who have known the only-
begotten Son of God always by faith, may be led
forward on the fux-ther part of our pilgrimage, to
attaining the contemplation of His sublime dignity in
Heaven."

You who have now your path before you clear and
distinct, — who are no longer guided by the doubtful
light of a little star, but walk in broad daylight, in the
sunshine of the faith, vrhich shows you every danger,
and lays bare every snare, which shows you at every
step the hand of your directing mother, guiding you
to the altar of God, — ^you I exhort to go on rejoicing,
till you obtain that reward which the Lord has in
store for faithful combatants. •

■ s

mmSk

ON THE EFIPlIAinr.

' .

Bat yon, who do not feel yom-Belves yet nmveil at
this place of rest, I bid you look aroond, and say If no
Biar haa appeared to you. Mark well its laws: it
may be found in the secret reproaches of conscience,
or in the discomforts of an unsettled faith ; it may be
met in what you see, in that which you know of what
God is working, by the great direction that lie is giv-
ing so many good and learned men towards one point.
But if you find that there is any slight proof— one
least sign which tells you, that there must be some-
thing better than what you now enjoy, or even that
there may be, then take into your hearts the courage
of the wise men of the East, amd set forth, with hum-
ble offerings, to seek your King. You will find Him
infallibly here, where alone He is to be found. It
will not, indeed, be your final resting-place; you will
not find a lasting and enduring city. No, you will
have still to aim at another. You will go from your
Jerusalem to Bethlehem; but from Bethlehem your
way lies to the Jerusalem that is above. You will
rest for a few momenta here below ; you will receive
peace of conscience through forgiveness of your sins ;
you will be refreshed with the bread of life -.—and
then you will rise up again,— and join the pilgnms
who have passed that way before you, onward to
heaven, forward to God.

innveil nt
Bay If no
laws: it
onscience,
it may be
V of what
Ele is giv-
one point,
roof— -one
be feome-
even that
e courage
Hrith huiu*
find Him
!buud. It
; you will
, you will
from your
hem your
You will
ill receive
your sins ;
life : — and
B pilgrims
inward to

SERMON III.
<!Dur J^nviour in tbt ^mpU»

LmcK. U. 46, 47.

"And It cune to paM, that aftpr threo days they fonnd Jesni <n the T«m-
pie, aittiiig' in the midst of tho docton, hoAring them and anking tlicm
questions. A^-d all that heard^ Uim were aatoolshed at Ilia wisdom and
His anawon."

Thb Gospel of to-day, from which I have drawn
these words, relates how our Saviour, when twelve
years old, was unwittingly lei't in Jerusalem by His
blessed parents, and after three days' fruitless search,
found by them in the Temple, conferring with the
doctoi-s of the Jewish law. With the exception of
this incident, the inspired records have concealed from
our knowledge all the events of His life between His
return from Egypt and His final manifestation unto
Israel. And if we inquire wherefore this anecdote
alone h^ been withdrawn from under so close, and
doubtless so mysterious a veil, I would suggest, that
the purpose of the Gospel-history is only to record
those events which belonged to our blessed Redeem-
er's public life. And though no doubt many lessons
of ^ ire and holy wisdom were to be leanied from
His domestic and retired life ; though His meekness to
His companions, His cheerfulness in poverty and dis-

tummkmm

OUB SAVIOUR in Tim TKMPr.K.

treis, His MsWulty in the work of Hi« liurablo calling,
Hill kind charity to th« poor, His tender attention and
dotifulness to Hin parents, must have appeared to us
exceedingly beautiftil, and most proRtabie, too, had
we been shown how well they became, in Htm, the
winning age of childhood, yet were they directi-d
rather to the edification of a few more favored souls
than to general instruction.

But on the occasion alone described in this Gospel,
He Himself smerges fVom the obscure retirement
which He had voluntarily chosen ; and, like His father
David, who came forward, yet a stripling, to vanquish
Goliath, ad then returned to his homely life, as if to
give earnest of the prowess he should display when
called at manhood to greatw endeavors, so did He
come forth at this tender age to meet, and skirmish
with, those whom He should later encounter with
sterner and more fixed determination.

And, wherefore, we may still further ask, this inter-
ruption of His unpretending course, and this preraa-
tare expoeuro to the jealousy of His future adversa-
ries? Not surely from any of that forward less and
petulance which not seldom disfigures that age, nor
fh)m the ambition of display which blemishes ^
often precocious geniu-, nor yet from the zealous de-
aire to hasten Hia day of manifestation, which even a
virtuous soul might well have felt ; but rather that He
miffht exhibit, while only in His own pereon He could
the strong contrast between the old dispensation and
that which He came to establish ; inasmuch as stand-
ing, a.diUd, amidst the aged and hoary elders of the
synagogue, He aptly brought together, and opposed to

calling,
otion and
red to us
too, hud
Him, tho
directed
red souls

is Gospel,
etireraent
Its father
vanquish
e, as if to
jlay when

did He
skirmish

nter with

this inter-
ns preraa-
e adversa-
■d less and
,t age, nor
nishes too
zealous dd>
lich even a
ler that He

1 He could,
sation and
I as stand*
lers of the
opposed to

OUB SAVIOUR IK THE TKMPLK.

•1

each other, the chosen types and emblema of the old
and new covenants.

For, in thu Jewish law, old age wan tho favorite
symbol of wisdom and virtue, to which were to be paid
all deference and submission. The young were com-
manded greatly to reverence and stand in awe of its
slowly-gathered experience, and exhorted to imitate
the gravity and sednteness of its deportment. In its
books of wise counsels, natural want of grey hnirs is
always mentioned as a defect to be partially remedied
by superior sense ; while throughout the old legisla-
tion, the child^s estate is hardly attended to, save ns
one of restraint and thraldom, so that he is scarcely
raised a degree above a servant or a slave.

But the religion of Jesus has precisely reversed this
standard and its emblem. It was to be the religion
not of harsh restraint and severe authority, but of filial
love and of brotherly love ; not of acquired wisdom,
but of infused grace; not of virtue with much toil
hardly purchased, but of innocence preserved unstained ;
not of imposing and venerable exteiior, but of free and
fi'esh, natural and unpresuming perfection.

Hence, His apostles and followers were especially
charged to preserve the virtues of His little ones, as
being the dearest portion of God's flock. And, in-
stead of the child being exhorted, as heretofore, to
shape its conduct after the model of age, the old and
experienced are commanded to copy the child, and
imitate its artless virtue and unconscious innocence.
And as such a type of His owa religion, and such a
model for our stv iy, doth Jesus appear before us this
day, in mild and beautiful contrast with the sterner

»>maart

^^^••.4

*4m

OUR tlAVIOUR IN Tlli: TKMI'LK.

features of the aged religion, reprefienting in IlirnRelf
nil thti guileless simplicity which was to be th« cha^
actenstic of His own in doctrinu and in practice ; He
BtandH OH the child placed in the midst of all, however
venerable, however learned, however holy, like unto
whom must neceasarily become, whosoever winhes to
enter into the kingdom of Heaven.

Twofold U this characteristic of simplicity in the
child, and therefore twofold roust it be in tha Ghruh
tian : as it affects the understanding, and this is docility;
as it affects the heart, and this is innocence. Docility
will direct his belief, and innocence will sanctify hU
condutct.

Our blessed Savi oar, after He had severely reproved
their folly who had refused to listen to His words, thus
solemnly exclaimed in prayer : " I give thanks to thee,
O Father, Lord of heaven and of eartli, because thou
hast hid these things from the wise and prudent ones,
and hast revealed them to little ones. Yea, Father, for
so it hath seemed good in thy sight" (Matt. xi. 25.)

What, my brethren, mean these awful words ? What
is faith (some would say) but a strong couvic' ic i which
is the oflbpring of knowledge ; and is not this the ao
quisiiion of the wise and of the prudent ) Shall not the
philosopher, whose mind has been trained by long ez<
ercise to habits of deep thought, dive into the abyss
of truth more eiaily, and bring up thence its hidden
treasures more securely than the dull illiterate rustic,
who can scarcely raise his thoughts above the clod
which he tills? Shall not the subtile jurist, accus-
tomed to weigh the force of evidence, and the justice
of legal decisions, more fully apprehend, and mt)re

OUR HAVIOUIt Iff TIIK TUMPMS.

a HiniBelf
I thtj char-
cttce; He
I, however
like unto
witthes to

Ity in the
tha Chiiip
8 docility;
Docility
inctify h\4

T reproved
rords, thus
ks to thee,
:au8o thou
dent ones,
father, for
t. xi. 26.)
ds? What
fit 1 which
\x\» the ao>
all not the
y long ex.
the abyss
its hidden
•ate rustic,
) the clod
rist, accos-
;he justice
and mt>re

highly valiKt, tho l)«AUty and perfection of the Divine
law, than the unlt-tU'red artisan who has never even
heard of the principled whereby such investigations
are ruled 7 At least, iihall not the theologian, versed
in the knowledge of sacred Scriptures, and in the max*
inis of ecclesiafttical nntiquity, more accurately pene-
trate, and more deeply reverence the holy dogmas and
dispensations of religion, than a foolitib, unsteady,
unreflecting child ?

No, my brethren, not one of thera, except inasmuch
as, Hcoming hia deai'-bougbt acquireoient^, be brings
his reason to the same standard of docility as charoo
tcri-Hes that child. For, so far from fuith being like
what we call knowledge, it is both in its objects and
its mo<le of acquisition every way very different. Our
study and knowledge here below is but timt of the
]>erpetual captive, who scans and explores the walls of
his prison cell To beguile the time, he will, perhaps,
oftentimes measum their heigh f. and breadth and mas-
sive proportions; and he will calculate the hours of
his nightly darkness and of his daily twilight ; or he
will watc^ii in their toil or their sportiveness the in-
sects that share with him his narrow abode ; or he
will sometimes be glad to hear consolation from some
one whose chain sighs echo to his owu. He will
amuse himself, perchance, awhile, by many ingenious
devices and uew arrangements, that bear a mocking
semblance of novelty and variety. Then he has, too,
his sculptured monuments and written records to
Btady, rudely carved upon the walls around him;
their annals who have inhabited his prison-house be-
fore him, the lords of the dungeon, who thought their

OUR SAVIOUR IN THR TKMPLK.

DtmM and deetU worth inscribing for their iiucc<»8it>r8
to decipher. And after theac Mcupations his head,
too, may ache, like any philosopher'!*, and his «y« '*«•
come dimmed, and hia face look pale, and hia limbn he
languid. Alas, poor captive I could thy eye but for
one moment pierce the low-browed vaults of thy
bondagehouae, and plunge with the dove into the
deep-blue ocoan of Heaven above thee,-- couldst thou
but for one instant gaze, even at the risk of Iwsing
daazled, upon that glorious throne of brightness,
whose sidelong ray lights up, and cheers, even thy
sorrowful dwelling, or commune with those happier
beings who inhale to the full its warmth and radiance,
how would that one glance, no longer in imagination
but in reality, be worth all the lonely and wearim»me
lessons of thy captive houi-s ! and although the fetters
might still gripe thy limbs, and the iron of captivity
still be fixed in thy soul, thou wouldst no longer feel
bowed by the weight of the one, or tortured by the
other*s smart.

Now, my brethren, as these vain beguilements of a
prisoned life is human knowledge, and such as that
glance would be, is heavenly faith. After you have
studied nature in its grandest or minutest parts ; after
you have condensed into one small mass the expe-
rience and wisdom of ages, yoa have but studied, and
learnt at much cost, the qualities and prerogatives of
your place of durance ; and it is only by plausible
conjecture, or delusive fancy, that you can pass be-
yond its bounds. But faith comes in by her own
power and energy to our relief, and makes a bright
light of Heaven to shine around our place of thraldom;

9 ■

OUB aAVIOUR IN TIIK TKMFIB.

• Huccessort
I his he«d,
his wye he-
lis limbs )»6
ye but for
ilU of thy
•e into the
suldat thou
ik of being
brightnem,
I, even thy
tee happier
1(1 radinnce,
imagination
wearimtme
I the fotters
if captivity
longer feel
ired by the

sments of a
ich as that
r you have
parts; after
} the expe-
ntudied, and
srogativea of
)y plansible
an pass be-
)y her own
es a bright
)f thraldom;

and not so content, itrikMi bur side, bidding us to
arise and gird our garments around uh, and sliake off
, our fettei-s, nnd showM m through the iron gate, that
will op«'n as we appn)ach — the holy and lu-avenly
JeruHuU'Ui — the plate of <»ur true abode. For, "Faith
is the foundation of things to be hoped for: the
demonstration of things not appearing." (Hob. xii. 1.)
Faith, therefore, belongs in its objects to anothor
sphere of things from knowledge, and, consequently,
is not to 1)0 ac(iuii ed by the Harne means ; the one is a
bread prepare«l and made by the hands of man, the
other a manna which comes down to u"4 from h«'aven.
Knowledge is the progress of the understanding, ns it
inarches forward erect, panting and proud, on its toil-
some p ith : faith in its breath less prostration before
the wifcdom of God. In it, reason, purely passive,
must bt cast on the ground, like (Jideon's fleece, to
drink in the soft calm dew which falls unheard from
heaven, and penetrates and fills, and aliments it
thoroughly with its celestial principle. Or, rather, the
entire soul lies as earth without water before God, di-
lating its wide capacity, rending itself open on every
side, and distending every pore, till it draws in, with
deep thirsty draughts, the life-giving wisdom which He
rains upon i*, and mingling its whole being with the
pure element descending from above. It is as of old,
when the Divine Majesty was to be revealed to the
prophet's spirit; it is only with our heads closely
veiled, and our foreheads buried in the dust, and our
entii'e frame in still and motionless adoration, that we
shall abide the approach and passage of the awful rev-
elation; yea, and even when gladder visions of j<>y

-) ;

■•VMH

ir^

OUR 8AVI0UK IN THE TK.MPLK.

and salvation are displayed, as on Mount Thabor, wo
must sink upon the ground with the chosen three, nor
dare to raise our heads, to pry too curiously into the
light and voice which are communicated to us.

Such, my dear brethren, is faith in its acquisition :
it is the union of the soul's intellectual powers with
the wisdom of God, just as charity is of its afiFections
with His goodness ; it is the obedience of the under-
standing, it is the humility of reason.

Hence is a child-like docility the principal disposi-
tion to obtain and to keep it. So soon as the child
Samuel answered the voice he had twice heard, by
saying "Speak, O Lord, for thy servant heareth,"
(1 Reg. iii. 10), the mysteries of God's counsels were
laid open to him. So whoever becoming a child like
him, shall call out in like words, may well hope the
same favor, if he happen to be in a state of ignorance
or delusion.

And in this docility of the youthful prophet we see
exemplified its principal manifestation — ^prayer. Who-
ever feels that his faith is weak or insecure, whoever
is conscious of uneasiness in his belief on any point, of
a desire to inquire more deeply into doctrines which
he has been formerly taught to despise, or of a certain
habitual uneasiness and restlessness of mind, 6ucU as
accompany the forebodings of coming evil, though we
know not for what cause, let such a one turn himself
to God, and entreat Him, with all earnestness and hu-
mility, to lay open unto him His ways, and to guide
him along them, and assuredly he will thereby profit
more, and learn more, and receive more sure dii*ec-
tions, than by all his study and inquiry. ^

iftfmfi-mmil^rmmfmA^mm^'^^

OUR 8AVI0UB IN TUE TEMPLE.

habor, we
three, nor
f into the

IS.

tquisition :

wers with

affections

he under-

al disposi-

t the child

heard, by

heareth,"
asels were
, child like
I hope the

ignorance

het we see
'er. "Who-
j, whoever
y point, of
ines which
►f a certain
Ld, jfiiich as
thongh we
irn himself
3SS and hu-
1 to guide
•eby profit
sure dii*ec-

Directly opposed to this youthful docility is evei^
system which introduces pride or self-confidence among
the ingredients of faith. The idea that our creed
must be the production of our own genius, — that be-
cause we are gifted with better abilities, or have re-
ceived superior education, our religion must be of a
more enlightened order than others can hold, who are
less highly accomplished, — that in short we must, by
our individnat study, decide what we will believe and
what we will reject : all such principles as these are in
direct opposition to the symbol of true Christianity :
you become not as a child when you reason thus, and,
therefore, you enter not thus into the kingdom of
Heaven.

And might not I say, that to speak of each one's
having to make out by study his own creed, is in rea-
son as absurd as to speak of each one's having to ar-
range, in like manner, his own system of astronomy ?
The laws which regulate the moral world are not less
fixed than those which govern the visible ; only one
system can be true in either; and whoever undertakes
to fabricate that one by his own unaided skill will
assuredly fail.

No less opposed to the docility of Christian faith is
all obstinacy and pertinacity in clinging to our own
opinions, the moment they have been satisfactorily
confuted ; all unchristian heat and acrimony, and un-
charitableness in religious disputation ; all lurking de-
sire, in fine, that we may triumph and not the truth.
For, how do you imagine to yourselves the blessed
-Child, of whom this day's Gospel speaks, to have look-
ed and conversed among the Jewish doctors ? Do you

! !■ > II il r i»ii ii rtr I I - '* ' — '"• ' -■■ -— J^"^''*-*'^

ll t III 'I J

i.iiliiW"'ihifW

UJggf^LjUJ^

II iiip i N iBp^M ■ . ! • ■■ w wwi

OUE SAVIOUR IN TIIB TKJIPLE.

fancy Him a lively, ready, forward boy, with keen,
restless eye, and unsteady gait, eagerly watching the
moment when He could thrust in His remarks, ever
studying, by perplexing questions, to confound, or by
smart repartee, to shame, the venerable elders who
surrounded Him ? For my part, I would rather rep-
resent Him as a sweet and gentle and bashful child,
whose downcast looks, and clear open brow, and mild
calm features, should appear to the t)ystandei-8 to
cover such a heaven of innocence, and such an abyss
of wisdom, as neither child nor sage had ever before
singly, nor angel unitedly, possessed. And I would
suppose Him listening to their discourses in modest
silence, and with an air of respectful del jrence, putting
His questions as one who deeply venerated the author-
ity He interrogated ; teaching those around Him as
one who only learnt, and astonishing all by the art
with which He in reality scattered flowers of heaven-
ly wisdom, while He appeared only to be gathering
those which were of earth. Such, then, is the Chris-
tian's type who seeks for religious wisdom, that is,
faith. He must be as a child ; and the child Jesus
hath been pleased, in this instance, to stand in person
as his model.

In fine, this having been given us as the type of
Christ's religion, it may often serve many to correct
the severe judgments they are tempted to pronounce
on others' practices and conduct. Ai*e your eyes un-
used to see marks of respect and devotion shown to
religious representations, or to material object* conse-
crated by holy recollections ; and does the practice,* a»

*In Borne.

m^.

OUR SAVIOUR IN TIIK TIfiMPLE.

with keen,
atching the
marks, ever
ound, or by
elders who

rather rep-
ishful child,
Wj and mild
standera to
ih an abyss
ever before
id I would
I in modest
nee, putting
L the author-
nd Him as
I by the art

of heaven-
>e gathering
8 the Chris-
>m, that is,
child Jesns
id in person

the type of
r to correct
> pronounce
our eyes un-
oc shown to
:)ject« conse-
practice,* as

yon witn«« it here, strike you as offensive to God ?
"Why, study how a child shows its affection to those
whom it loves, and see if it does not treasure up any
little record of their kindness, and lavish its affecti' -^
upon their portraits and images. "Wherefore, they
who do these things thereby become as little children,
rather than you who reprove them.

Are your ears sometimes shocked by the warm and
enthusiastic forms of supplication which you hear, and
do you feel tempted to pronounce, when you see such
unchecked outbreaks of devotional feeling in the poor
and simple, that there is too much of passion and
emotion in their religion, and too little conviction and
reason 1 I will only ask yon, are you then offended
when you hear the child express its love in the artless
poetry of passion, and pour our its feelings warm and
rich ca they flow from its unspoiled heart; or can
you think that He who gave us the child as the sym-
bol of the Christian's belief, wished thereby to denote
that intellect and not feeling, reasoning and not rather
emotion, was to be its principle, its guide, its security,
and its very soul ?

Are you scandalised, perchance, at the apparent lev-
ity which this people seems sometimes to mingle with
its most serious duties, — at the absence of those demure
looks and that formal exterior, which in our colder
north is considered essential to piety, or at the cheer-
ful gayety which makes their Lord's Day a day of
mental as well as of bodily rest ? Go and preach to
the child, that, when rejoicing btfore its parent, it
must look sad and mournful; and when yon shall
have succeeded in plucking from its young heart, in

#- •)

m < !■ I ».* O ■*! '< <*

OUR SAVIOUR IN THE TEMPLE.

strippiug from its smiling features, the quality wbich
makes its age the most amiable, then may you try to
convince the natives of the golden south, that all the
natural buoyancy of their disposition is to be repressed,
yea, cut out and seared by religion. Take the child
once more as your model, and putting aside all inten*
tioual irreverence and neglect, see whose practice m
other respects comes nearest to its ; and that, be you
assured, cannot be unpleasing to God.

Much more instruction might be drawn from the
consideration of this attribute of docility, which has
been shown to be a characteristic of the Christian's
faith ; but I must hasten to a few brief remarks upon
the second quality of our model, which is innocence.
The gieat advantage of the standard proposed by the
New Law over that of the Old is, that we have all of us
experience, to guide us to its attainment. The wisdom
and gravity of age, which in the elder dispensation
was to be studied and copied by the young, these had
never possessed; nor had they, consequently, any
guidance of internal feeling to lead thorn to its acqui-
sition. But we have all been children ; we have all
passed through that state of pure innocence; and I
will venture to say, that no one looks back upon that
spiing of his life without a soft regret, that he should
not have fixed any of its charming traits in his char-
acter, before they passed away for ever. You must
become as little children ii you wish to enter the
kingdom of Heaven; that is, study only what you
yourselves were, and strive to your utmost to become
so once more ; and, without fail, you shall be saved.

You were then mild, and courteous and affable to

iiiir ;«l ii i i ri.jy..J.,. ., .'""

rr-^

OUR SAVIOUn IN THE TEMPLE.

ality wbich
you try to
that all the
e repreased,
e the child
Q all inteu-
practice lu
lat, be you

n from the
, which has

Ghriatian's
marks upon
I inaocence.
3sed by the
»ve all of us
rhe wisdom
iispensation
r, these had
uently, any
o its acqui'
ve have all
;nce; and I
k upon that
t he should
in his char*

You must

enter the
what you

i to become
be saved.

1 affable to

all. You asked not after men's opinions, or party, or
rank ; but Nature guided you, by her own instincts, to
judge of what was amiable and virtuous, and taught
you to love and esteem it wherever found ; and, at the
same time, to despise no one, to hate no one, to treat
no one ill.

You were then obedient to all whom God had
placed over yon, you felt towards them respect and
affection ; you dreamt not of schemes to overthrow or
diminish their authority ; you rectived their instruc-
tions with attention ; you submitted to their correction
without resentment. And how beseeming the charac-
ter of the child this conduct is our blessed Saviour
was careful to show us in this day's Gospel, which
♦concludes by telling us that "He went to Nazareth
with His parents, and was subject to them."

You were then unambitious, content with the lot
which Trovidence had given you ; for, as St. Chrysos-
tom remarks, if you should present before a child on
one side a queen clothed in embroidered robes and
bearing a jewelled crown, and on the other its mother
clad in taHered raiment, it would remain undazzled
and unseduced; but, following the voice of Nature,
cast its arms round its parent's neck, and mock at the
allurements of ambition.

You were then, too, unsolicitous about the future
and about the world, enjoying the simple innocent
pleasures which the present afforded you, knowing
that there was a parent who ever thought of you, and
took care that all was provided for you at ihe proper
season.

You were sincere, open and unsuspicious; you

L-.=3te-

» I iSfc ,-.'-.'. ■ j.t, .,^«.S.......-i^.j^J.^

T-r

OUB 8AV10UB IN TIIK JTHMPLB.

spoke yonr sentiments with artless candor, respect-
ing not the person of man ; you knew not that the
truth was to be studiously concealed or disguised ;
you laid open your wants and little sufferings when-
ever you thought you might obtain assistance ; you
laughed and: you wept us Nature's impulse taught

You were pure and undefiled in heart, in desire, in
affection, and in thought; you had not even heard of
that monster-vice which, when once it has fastened its
fangs in its victim, and cast round his loins its fiery
chain, drags him unresisting, through storms of pas-
sion, into the bottomless abyss.

Your virtue then, as your bodily health, was not
the result of unremitting attention, and of repeated
recoveries, but consisted in the unconsciousness of
disorder, the fearlessness of any danger, unattended
by any effort or precaution. Nature,, restored by
grace to something of its primeval purity, created
round you a paradise for its preservation, a paradise
of delight, and cheerftilness, and joy, where every
thought was as a new flower springing fresh into instant
bloom, and every wish was a tempting fruit which
might be plucked without danger. And love was
the fountain in its centre which you seemed ever to
drink,— love towards all who associated with you, to
all who cai-essed you, to all who served you, to all
who looked uport you ; and, breaking through even
these bounds, rU waters parted, and diffused your
kindliness and affectionateness even over the irrational
and inaniiJinie objects of creation. And the gold and
precious stories of that land were rich; a blessing

wmmm

-■»•

-r-r-

OUB BAVLQUK IN TH£ TE31PLE.

r, respect*
b that the
disguised ;
iuga when-
ance ; you
Ise taught

1 desire, in
m heard of
fastened its
ins its fiery
ins of pa»-

;h, was not
)f repeated
iioQsness of
unattended
estored by
ity, created
a paradise
here every
into instant
fruit which
d love was
ned ever to
irith you, to

you,

to all

irough even
ffused your
le irrational
he gold and
; a blessing

there was which bound your head as with a diadem
over which angels watched as you reposed ; graces
which made your soul more bright and precious be-
fore God than the golden ark in His tabernacle ; a
treasure of eternal promises sealed up with His own
signet in your bosom, which the powere of evil re-
pined at and envied. Such were you once: alas!
what are you now ? You have since tasted of the
tree of knowledge of good and evil, and its fruit, too,
fell from your hand into that beautiful fountain, like
the bitter star which St. John saw ; and it is well if
only a third part of its sweet waters have been turned
into wormwood. (Apoc viii. 11.) How has the un-
ruffled peace of innocence been dashed from your soul
by the wild broad sweep of boisterous passion ? How
hath " your silver been changed into dross, and your
wine been mingled with water?" (Is, i. 22.) I will
leave to each, one's conscience to draw his portrait,
and hang it by the one I have faintly sketched, and
then say if in the two he recognizes the same
original. And yet, certain as is the infallible
word of truth, so certain it is, that only the firat
resembles him who shall enter into the kingdom of
Heaven.

What then remains, but that you mould yourself
anew upon the model which memory holds up before
you. At every year of your life you remove a step
further from that happy age : God grant that you de-
part not as much from its happy disposition. Why is
our Saviour's age so carefully recorded in this day's
Gospel, and at other great periods of His life, except
to teach us to keep count of our years, and be able to

..usil

OUR 8AVI0UII IN TllJfi TKMPLl.

remember thera by some conKolhig record of sli^nftl
virtue. But, alas I cau wo l > m ? Hlmll wo, for in-
stance, remember the yenr which has just ehipaod by
any new step iu virtue and grace, which may refresh
and comfort us when summoned to depart ? Look
back upon it and see before it is too late; for perhaps
you havo already begun to forget it. You have flung
it away from you, like the stone which the wayfarer
used to throw from habit upon Absalom's grave, with-
out pausing to reflect on the odious corruption it cov-
ered deeper from his sight. It passed by just as did
its fellows before it ; its garb was motley as the fool's,
chequered alternately with good and evil, though I
should marvel much if the darker hues did not pre-
vail. In it you laughed, and you pighed ; you feasted
for those who came into the world, and you put on
mourning-weeds for those who left it; you trans-
gressed and you repented ; you made resolutions and
you broke t^em ; ycj had quarrels and reconciliations,
illnesses and recoveries ; you did, I trust, much that
was virtuous and good ; and very much we all did
that was evil and sinful before Ood. But as the ser-
;'ent at its annual term glides out of its speckled
coil, or as the bird, when its yearly period comes,
shakes off its variegated plumage, and scatters it to
the winds of heaven, so have we cast off and left
behind us, as far as we could, the state and habit of
the past year, retaining no more accurate recollec-
tion thereof, than we do of the lights and shadows
which played on yesterday's landscape. But yet
every fragment of your past condition has been care-
fully picked up as it dropped curelessly from you,

..4MUM

iiHiiiliinlii farm

■Pil"

I'd of filj'nnl
II w<«, for in*
t t'lftpaod hy

may refresh
part ? Look
; forperhapa
u have flung
;he wayfarer

grave, with-
ption it cov-
r just as did
as the fool's,
iril, though I
did not pre-

you feasted

you put on
; you trans-
olutions and
conciliations,
t, much that

we all did
tt as the ser-
its speckled
)eriod conies,
scatters it to

off and left
and habit of
rate recolleo-
ind shadows
But yet
as been care-
iy from you,

OUB HAVIOUK IN TIIK TEMl'LK.

And nicely joined together and treasured up, m a
record of what you have been and what you have
done.

How will you be dismayed, when one day this shall
be produced and unrolled as a huge sheet before you,
•where you shall see registered how every month,
eveiy day, every hour, yea, every minute, hath been
passed ; how many have been given to indolence, how
many to dissipation, how many to transgression, how
many to vice, and how few to God. And then, too,
yon shall see all those with whom you have associated
during this term, all who have shared iu your varied
fortune, — the many who laughed and the few who
wept with you, yea, and they, too, who have preached
to you, arrayed and sworn m witnesses against you.
Their coui'se has resembled the frantic dance of those
Grecian matrons who, joined band in hand, whirled
round, as they moaned the death-song on the moun<
tain's brow, so that whoever at each revolution came
to the edge, loosened her grasp aud fell into the
abyss below. But the circle reclosed aud the dance
continued.

Alas 1 who fell from our circle in this its last revo-
lution? We have forgotten him, perhaps: be it so;
but there is to b^ some victim in each round ; some
one's turn is approaching, some one is bounding to-
wards the precipice, perhaps you, perhaps I, — it may
be only one, but oh 1 let us all be forewarned and pre-
pared. And how ? Become as little children, and
return to that innocence which you have lost; for, to
sum up in the appropriate words of St. Peter : " This
is the word which hath been preached unto you.

OUR iAviouB vx rm TEMPIX

Wher.^fore, laving wide all malice, all guile, and di».
«iikulj*uoi.., wid envie«, and all detractions, »« new-
born babe^ desir^^ the rational m.lk witboat guile ;
that thereby ye may grow unto solvation." (I let. I.
26;u. 1, 2.)

>, and dit*

H, as new*
loat guile;
• (I Pet.!.

SERMON IV.
HH 9oty ^mt of 9fr$ttl.

Lcue, U. II.

•• ma name wm oJW Jettw, wWch wm c«II«d by ihe Angel before He wm
euBcelved kn the wv.ijib."

It is not uncommon, nor T thiulr unwise, my bref b-
ren, for those who undertake what seems beyond their
strength, to shelter them^^elves under the protection of
some great name, by the authority of which they may
insure success. It was thus that, a few centuries ago,
in times of turbulence and oppression, the feeble
would put on the cognizance of somo -owerful lord,
as whose vassa' they would not fear U> epel the at-
tempts of an u na. and stronger aggreavir. It , thus
that, even at .ue ^ >esent day, the obscure scholar
hopes to win some more partial favor, if he can pr«>flx
to hia labore the namw of any one, whose reputation
and acknowledged merit may giv«- consideration to his
humble eflforts. Now, by the blessing of God, as I
think, it hm thm day befallen m< to op«^n our aunnaL
course of instr ictions, in the full t usciousnean of ina-
bility and unworthiness, but under the sanction of that
Name, bes'des which there is none other on earth
given to men whereby they may be saved. For you
«i-e nut ignorant, brethren, that on this day the Holy

THK nOLT NAMV Of imjU.

Cutbolic Church commumoratfts the blcmed ahI mlof*
iible Name of JeRus. Amidst th« joyful fentivaU of
our IjonVa Nativity^ the niyst**rio« of this holy Name
could not be forgott«u. Hut no many and so varioun
have been our motiven for joy, that wo scaroely have
had time, during their celebration, to puuso upon thi«.
Even on the first day of the year, on occawon of our
LordV Circumcision, there were too many other my»»
teriea of faith and love, to allow the mind's dwelling
OA it should upon the tender glories of the Name then
given. Worthily, then, has there been allotted to it
its own proper festival; for it is a Name to us full
of delightful suggestions,— one that will amply repay
the devout meditations of our hearts.

But ou this occasion it presents itself in connection
with the circumstances under which you are ad-
dressed. It is impossible to overlook the considera-
tion that wo are here assembled in the Nam^j of this
our Lord : and that for a purpose which can have no
virtue if performed not in His Name. In this Name I
■umraon you to hear the word of God ; under this I
mean to seek protection and virtue for my feeble ef-
forts. Of old, when this city (Rome) was the abode
of every evil passion, they who called themselves
clients of patrons, wicked as themselves, would, under
the sanction of their name, run into every excem of
violence and injustice, and foul the name, which they
affected to honor, with reproach and public infamy.
But we, blessed be God, have chosen for the name to
be invoked upon us, one which can only be the sym-
bol of peace, and charity, and joy. They who rever-
ence that Name must reverence His l&ws. who boie it ;

TUK HULY NAMK or JKHUfl

Mil »l<loP«

feMtivnU of
Ijoly Name

HO vnriou«
rcely Imve

iiputi tbifl.
lioa of our
other inyii>
fl dwelling
Name thea
lotted to it

to 118 full

aply repay

coonectioa
)U are nd-

considerar
me of this
m have no
bis Name I
nder this I
y feeble ef-

the abode
themselves
}uld, under
f Gxcem of
which they
lie infamy.
be name to
e the sym-
who rever-
'ho boie it ;

Ihey who love it, niuit love the boundlew troannreii of
benevoletice, mercy, oiul charity, which it rm.Tdrt.

Let us, then, prepare our hearts this ilay for the re-
ceivini? of His luw wh«'n »lccUred to us, and fur the
practice of His commandments ; by considering the
force they must derive from the holy Name that sano-
tioni thvrto,— a name of mighty power with Hiui who
proclaims it, a name of boundless sweetness to those

that learn it.

When God had decreed to achieve the wondertul
deliverance of His people from the l<:gyptian yoke, the
f rst step which He chose towards its accomplishment,
was revealing to them a name, whereby they should
kaow Him, and worehip Him as their deliverer.
Moses, in fact, asked Him by what name he should
declare Him to the people of Israel, when he coinmu-
uicated to them his commission. Then, " God said to
Moses, I AM WHO AM. . . . This is my name for ever,
and this is my memorial unto all generations."
(Exod. iii. U.) And afterwards He reappeared to
the holy law-giver, and said to him, " I am the Lord,
that appeared to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, by
the name of God Almighty; and my name Adonai"
(or Jehovah) " I did not show them." (vi. 3.)

God then began His first work of d^iliverance by
the assumption of a new name, unknown to those who
had not witnessed His salvation. And that Name
was a name of power. Yes, a name of terrible power.
Not by it were the blind made to see, but darkness
such as might be felt with the hand, was brought over
the entire land of Egypt. Not by it were the lepers
cleansed, but foul ulcei-a and sores were brought to

THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS.

defile and disfigure the bodies of its inhabitants. Not
by it were the sons of widows and the friends of the
poor restored to life, but all the fiist-born of Egypt,
from the heir of Pharaoh who sat with his father on
his throne, to the eldest son of his meanest subject,
were struck in one night with death. Such was the
power of this delivering Name,— a power to make the
proud and obstinate quail, to scourge kingdoms, and
to destroy their princes,— a power of angry might and

avenging sway.

And such it ever ccntinued, even to those m whose
favor its power was exerted. It resembled, in fact, the
protection of the cloud that guided them through the
desert, which, whether by day with its overhanging
shadow, or by night with the red glare of its fiery
pillar, must have excited feelings of awe and terror,
rather than of love. So great, in fact, was the fearful
reverence paid this dread Name of God, that it ceased
to be ever uttered until its true pronunciation was com-
pletely lost. And, moreover, such is the measure of
power attributed by the Jewish teachers to this now
ineffable Name of God, that they scruple not to assert,
that whosoever should discover its true sound, and
according to this utter it, would there'oy perform any
work however wonderful, and find no miracle too

great.

But leaving aside these opinions, which, as of later
growth, deserve not as much notice, it is sufficiently
obvious how through the sacred Scriptures the Name
of God becomes the symbol of HimaeJf, so that to it
all power is attributed which to Him belongs. It is
tbe Name of the Lord which men are invited to bless ;

».w i iWM m^%* *m ii^ll m wrMMMw i i*«*

TUB HOLY NiUIE OP JESUS.

its. Not
is of the
)f Egypt,
fathfci* on
t subject,
I was the
make the
loms, and
night and

5 in whose
in fact, the
irough the
erhanging
)f its fiery
md terror,
the fearful
,t it ceased
a was com-
Qieasure of

this now
t to assert,
)ound, and
erform any
uiracle too

as of later
sufficiently
i the Name

1 that to it
mgs. It is
3d to bless;

it is by calling on His Name that we shall be saved
from our enemies ; it is iu his Name that we put our
trust, when others confide in chariots and in hoi-ses;
His Name is holy and terrible, or glorious and pleas-
ant. In the Name of God victories are gained and
prophecies spoken, and the evil threatened, and the
perveree punished, and the good encouraged, and the
perfect rewarded. It receives the homage due to God,
for it is the representative of God : it is as God Him-
self; spoken by the lips, it is to our hearing what were
to the eye the angels that appeared to Lot or Abra-
ham, or the burning bush of Horeb to Moses, or the
dove to John,— a sensible image of Hun, whose invisi-
ble nature can only be manifested through such imper-
fect symbols.

When the covenant of new and perfect redemption
was made, a new na ne w as requisite to inaugurate it ;
and it needed to be, even more than the f. xmer, a
name of power. For it was not any longer a bondage
under man that was to be destroyed, but slavery to
the powers of darkness and of wicked night. They
were not chains of iron or bolts of brass which were
to be broken in sunder, but the snare of death and the
bonds of hell, which had encompassed and straitened
us on every side. We were not merely condemned
by an earthly tyrant, to make bricks without straw,
but we were deeply fixed in "the mire of dregs," as
the Psalmist expresses it (xxxix. 3, and Ixviii. 15) ;
that is, in the filthy corruption of vicious desires, or, as
Ezekiel describes the foolish devices of the wicked, we
were as "a people that buildeth up a wall, and daubs
it with clay in which there is no straw.' (xiii. 10.)
«

IHi

THE UGLY NA2tI£ OF JKSUH.

So much as spintaal wretchedness is deep beyond the
bodily, 80 much stronger was the power required to
drag us from the abyss.

Now to do this was the great work of our salvation,
and He who came to accomplish it was to bear, as in
the former deliverance, a name of power. And that
name, m brwight down from Heaven by an archangel
to Mary, as communicated by an angel to Joseph, and
as solemnly given eight days after Hia birth, by a
priest, was tke N'\me of Jksus.

If, during His life. He concealed the glorious might
of His Name ; if He bore it meekly as another might
have done, and as though it but formed a name to
distinguish Him among the children of His people,
who shall thereat wonder, seeing how He shrouded
from the eyes of men the fulntiss of the Godhead that
resided in Him, and reserved, for a later period, the
completer manifestation of His true character ? For
no sooner had Ht» prerogntives as the Saviour of maa
been finally asserted, by His triumph over death,
and His return to the right hand of His Father, than
the " Name which is above all names" became, in the
hands of His apostles, the great instrument of all their
power.

There are few incidents in the apostolic annals
more beautiful and interesting to a loving Christian,
than the first public miracle after the Paraclete's de-
scent. It was wrought, as you well know, upon the
lame man at the Beautiful gate of the Temple, by
Peter and John, whan they entered it to pray. I
know not whether, humanly speaking, we can fully
realise their feelings, I mean apart from the conscious-

l"iJll!WW !l l l W!l% W ff ' I

THE HOLY NAME OF JESU3.

lyond the
quired to

salvation,
ear, as in
A.nd that
archangel
aeph, and
rth, by a

)us might
bar might
name to
is people,
shrouded
head that
eriod, the
;er ? For
iir of man
er death,
ther, than
me, in the
f all their

lie annuls
Christian,
iclete's de-
upon the
emple, by
pray. I
can fully
conscious-

ness of power which they had just received. During
their divine Master's life, they had occasionally failed
in their attempts to work miracles. Now they are
alone, the entire cause is in their hands ; any ill suc-
cess on their parts will be ruinous to it, for they can-
not now fall back upon the certain might of Him who
sent them. We might have supposed some slight
fluttering of the heart, some creeping anxiety coming
over the mind, as they decided upon putting the
power of their Saviour's Name to & great public test.
But no ; mark the calm decision, the unwavering con-
fldecce with which they proceed. The cripple a&\ed
them, aa he did every passer-by, for an alms. " But
Peter, with John, fastening his eyes upon him, said :
Look upon us. But he looked earnestly upon them,
hoping that he should receive something of them.
But Peter said : Silver and gold I have not, but what
I have I give thee. In the Name of Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, arise and walk. And taking him by the
right hand, he lifted him up, and forthwith his feet
and soles received strength. And he leaping up, stood
and walked." (Acts, iii. 4-8.) It was in virtue of
no peraonal power, that the holy apostles expected or
claimed this dominion over Nature, as spoilt by the
fall of man ; it was the virtue of His Name who had
conquered sin, and plucked out the sting of death,
that wrought through their hands.

So necessary did some such sanctionr appear to the
very piiests, that when they had apprehended the
two apostles and placed them in the uddst of them,
they asked them "by what power, or by what name,
have you done this?" Peter, filled with the Holy

■■ MWI

limiAM

THK HOLT NAME OF JTSSVB.

Ghost, replies, that "by the IQame of Jesus Chnst of
Nazareth," whom they had crucified, even by Him
that man stood there before them whole. Then they
"charged them not to speak at all, nor to teach m
the Name of Jesus. But when they had been let go,
and returned to the assembly of the faithful, they
lifted up their voices in one unanimous magmficent
prayer, concluding with these words— " And iw,
Lord, behold their threatenings, and grant unto Thy
servants that, with all confidence, they may speak
Thy word, by stretching forth Thy hand to cures,
and signs, and won^lsrs, to be done by the Name of
Thy holy Son Jesus." (Acts, i v.)

And what was this first public triumph of that glo-
rious Name, but only the first of a long series of vie-
tories over earth and hell ? Yv.t, terrible as ^t was to
those leagued powers of evi!, it was ever Mnelded for
the benefit of men. It was as a healing balm for the
sick and the halt ; they were anointed m this Name
and were raised up from their infirmity. "The Lord
Jesus Christ healeth thee," said Peter to Eneas; "and
immediately he arose " from his eight years illness.
( \cts, ix. 34). It was a savor of life to the dead m
Chiist, whom it raised, whun expedient for them, from
the grave. It was, moreover, a bright and burning
light to them that sat in darkness. It overthrew the
dominion of Satan; it destroyed the empire of sin;
it brought forth fruits of holiness, and diffused over
earth the blessings of Heaveu. Soon did it become
« great among the GentUes, from the rising of the sua
tr *he going down of the same." (Mai. i. 11.) A^ the
first discoverers of unknown lands, as the conqueroi-a

MtmuM i m ' K mitm

'%«fiij|NAttMl

,,tmm

Christ of

by Him

'hen they

teach in

en let go,

iful, they

agnificent

Lnd now,

unto Thy

lay speak

to cures,

Name of

f that glo-
■ies of vic-
s it was to
rielded for
ilm for the
this Name,
' The Lord
leas ; " and
irs' illness,
le dead in
them, from
id burning
.threw the
»ire of sin;
ijSfased over
1 it become
; of the sua
.) A^the
conqueroi-s

■-v.ji,imi . iffiiifgwrti

THE HOLT NAME OF JESTTS.

of hostile countries solemnly pronounce that they
take possession thereof in the name of the sovereign
who f.ummisj ioned them ; so did the Twelve, whether
explorers of the distant seats of barbarism, beyond
the flight of the Roman eogles, or as valiant warriors
against the active resistance of worldly principalities,
register their discoveries and settle their conquests in
no other name than that of the Lord Jesus. Often
was the world distracted by the rival claims of pre-
t«ndei-8 to the empire ; often was province in arms
against province, through the wide extent of Roman
domination ; often was the empire itself engaged in
cruel war with the nations without its pale : still
there was one empire, vaat, intemunable, and indivis-
ible, ruled ii; peace over all the world, Greek and bar-
barian. The dominion of Jesus was undisturbed by
rivalry, and undistracted by conflict. It could allow
no competition, it could fear no jealousy among its sub-
jects. One Name was called upon by th< m all ; and
it was ft Name that drew from them all an undivided
homage.

So secure were the early Christians of its power,
that they hesitated not to attribute to it an efficacy, so
to speak, sacramental — that is, a virtue independent of
all peculiar privilege in the individual who employed
it. They were not afraid of incurring the guilt of su-
pei-stition, by believing its very sound to possess a re-
sistless influence over the powers of darkness. Saint
Justin, in his Apology, only fifty years after the death
of Christ, appeals for a testimony of the truth of Hia
religion to the acknowledged fact, that any Christiaa,
by pronouncing tb Name of Jesus, could expel the

■■H

THE HOLY NAME OF JE8TT8.

evil spirit from any one possessed by bim. And Ter-
tulliau goes even as far as to challenge the heathens to
the experiment, with the condition that if any Chris-
tian failed in it, they might instantly put him to death.
But now, alas ! my brethren, the first fervor of
faith has long waxed cold, and with it have been with-
drawn the wonderful prerogatives it had obtained and
secured. We, the servants of Christ, may apeak His
word with all confidence in His Name, but the cures,
and signs, and wonders, which n\ay ensue by the
stretching forth of His hand, will be in the inward
soul, not- upon the outward flesh. And in whose name
else can I, or any other that shall fill this place, ad-
dress you? In what other name were we admitted
into His ministry, in what other name have we received
commission to the flock of Christ, if not in His, the
shepherd's ? In His Name alone are the sacraments ot
life administered to you ; in His Name alone is the
adorable Sacrifice of His Body and Blood offered by
us; in His Name alone we can admonish you and
threaten you, upbraid and encourage you, forgive you
or retain you in your bonds. When the prophets
spoke of old, they contented themselves with the sim-
ple preface, " Thus saith the Lord of Hosts." Seldom
was it a prologue to words of peace or comfort, but
rather to menaces and warnings, and woes. And yet
they that heard them looked not on the meanness of
the speakers, but considei-ed the majesty of the God
who sent them, and they rent their garments before
them, and humbled their souls with fasting, and cov-
ered their bodies with sackcloth and ashes, and did
penance.

,^ ..ju.^ <^iwiiim .-.l Ml W ! W> * »i**J « '<'ii

THE HOLY NAMK OF Jf>iU8.

And Ter-
eathena to
my Chris-
i to death.

fervor of
been with-
tained and
speak Hia
I the cures,
le by the
he inward
hose name

place, ad-
e admitted
ve received
in His, the
craraents ot
ilone is the

offered by
ti you and
forgive you
e prophets
ith the sim-
." Seldom
omfort, but
. And yet
neanness of
of the God
ents before
ig, and cov-
es, and did

#*M|>B»HtHiflfl^

And when the minister of the New Law stands be-
fore you saying, "Thus saith the Lord Jesus," shall
theie be less heed taken of his words, because he
speaketh in the name of One who is gracious and iVil
of mercy, and comes to communicate "thoughts of
peace and not of affliction ?" No. Did we come be-
fore you in our own names, and speak to you "of jus-
tice and chastity, and of the judgment to come," you
might, like Felix, send us back and say, "For this
time go thy way." (Acts, xxiv. 24.) Did we, as of
ourselves, preach to you the resurrection of the dead,
ye might, as they of Athens, mock us to scorn,
(xvii. 32.) If, in fine, we presumed to command you
to be continent and chaste, meek and forgiving, peni-
tent and humble, to distribute your goods to the poor,
or to afflict your bodies by fasting, you might, per-
haps, resent our interference with the concerns of your
lives, and chide us, not unreasonably, for exacting du-
ties hard and disagreeable. But when we speak unto
you th«Jt things by the power and in the Name of
Him witv U King of your souls and Master of your
being, — when we claim from you docility and obe-
dience for Him whose livery we bear and whose heralds
we are, refuse ye at your peril to receive our words,
and honor our commission.

But, good God, what do I say ? Shall I misdoubt
me of the power and virtue of the Name of Thy be-
loved Son, — of that Name, at the sound whereof
" every knee shall bow, of things in heaven, of things
on earth, aud of things nnder the earth ?" Shall I
fear that the neck of man redeemed, will be more in-
flexible than the knees of Thy vanquished enemies,

MbJMi

Till HOLT KAMK OF JK«»U«.

and -efusc to tnke up Thy gentle yoket Shall I ap-
prehend that the «oul of the captive, who hath be«a
ransomed by the power of this Name, will adore and
love It h^ than the angels, to whom it brought no

tidincM of salvation ? , - i **

No, my brethren, from you we hope for better
thinirs. For know you not that we are engaged to-
gether in a holy ./arfare, for which we have no other
ftrength than that of this holy Name ? In - a wrest,
ling, not against flesh and blood, but agamst princi-
palities and powe.., against the rulers of the world of
ihis darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in h.gh
places r (Eilhes. vi. 12.) And if you fight not under
Jhe Nam* ef the God of Jacob, how nhall you prevail ?
Anciently when armies i-ushed to battle, a name was
put into the mouth of each, as a watchword and cheer-
in« symbol of the cause in which they struggled
Glad was tl e heart of the commander, and flushed
with confidence of victory, when one unanimous shout
of the name of their king or their patron rung clear
Bod joyous from his men, as they rushed to the on-
Blsught, and drowned the feeble response of the nyal
ho8t And so, in the Name of Jesus, wdl we strike
boldly at our spiritual foes ; and bravely will we
sound it forth together, to the terror and discomfiture
of hell, and the overthrow of its might

It is the Name of ten thousand battles, and ot
countless victories. It echoed of o^d through the
vaulted prisons of this city, and filled the heart of the
confessor with courageous joy. It broke from the
martyr's lips, when Nature could no longer brook si-
lence, and was as "oil poured out" upon his wounds.

MtnMMMIil

umim t

^hall I Rp-

Imth been

adore and

>rooght uo

for better
n gaged to-
e uo other
11 "a wrest-
linst princi-
he world of
less in high
t not under
on prevail ?
I name was
I and cheer-
f struggled,
and flushed
limous shout
1 rung clear
I to the on-
of the rival
ill we strike
ely will we
discomfiture

itles, and of
through the

heart of the
ke from the
jer brook si-

his wounds.

TlIE HOLY NAllK OF JESUS.

It was the music of the anchorite, when in the depthf
of the desert the powers of darkness broke loose upon
him: and it dissipated his temptation. And ho it
shall bo the signal of our combat, the watchword of
our ranks. See, it is written in broad lettera upon the
itandard we have followed, " Jesus of Nazareth, King
of the Jews." Shame and confusion to the dastard
who deserts his banner, ur refuses to follow where
that Name leads I Victory and glory to the chosen
ones, who shall confide in its power, and Combat in its
cause I

"Out of the strong," said Samson, in proposing his
riddle to the Philistines, "out of the strong came
forth sweetness." "What," they replied, in solving
it, "is stronger than the lion, and what is sweetei
than honey ?" (Jud. xiv. 14, 18.) Surely, we may
reply, " His Name, who, as the lion of the tribe ot
Juda, hath prevailed over death and hell, and hath
been found worthy to open the book and loosen its
seals: and who yet in proposing to us its precepts,
makes them to us sweeter than honey and the honey-
comb."

It would seem to have been a special privilege of
patriarchal foresight, to understand when ?. child was
born what character it should bear througii life, and
to name it accordingly. Thus was Noah so named by
Lamech, because he said: "This same shall comfort
u& from the works and labors of our hands, on the
earth which God hath oureed." (Gen. v. 29.) When
the Saviour of mankind received from God hiraseL' a
name, it could not fail to be oue descriptive of His
high and gracious office ; and the Name of Jesus doth,

im\ II ' ^

tlOt HOLY MAMK OV jnCI.

in trutli, signify u saviour. In this it« mt'ftning i«
trfaaured up its awe lne«8. It is a nanw m prepnaut
with merciful recollectlutis, with motives of grfttitude,
with -mnrancP!* of hope, with honvtMily comfort, and
withciiusiH of joy, AH to be the ahrid 'ment, an it wrie,
mid easenoe of wliatever itdigion ha« brought of ble«».
ing down from Heaven.

Wiio dooH not know what choicest delicacies of feel-
ing may be condtmsed within the hhi: U compass of a
little nan)e« How the name of home will bring to
the exile's heart more ideas than a volume of eloquent
deBcription? How the title of child or parent, wife,
or sister, will stir t\v affections of a bereaved survi-
vor 1 And in this Name of Jesus, we shall find it ' •
be so, if we duly meditate upon it. It is the name
more especially of His infancy, and the name of His
passion. During the important, but to us less dear,
interval of His life, while engaged in the task of
preaching His doctrines, men addressed Him as Kabbi,
or Master ; He was saluted with titles of well-desei-ved

respect.

But while yet u child, and when abandoned by
"human favor to the ignominy of the cross, we know
Him by no name, we read of Him in the Gospel by
no name, but that of Jesus. And those surely u. e
the two portions of His life wherein principally He
proposes Himself as the object of our love. No ;
think of Him by that Name, and you cannot present
Him to your imagination as an object of awe or
dread, as just or terrible. He smiles upon you as an
infant in tho arms of His maiden mother ; He seems
to stretch tbrth to you His little hands from the

mwin wi

■nw*ni

iieAning u
I pref;(naut

grat'uiule,
•mtort, ftud

m it were,
ht of bltwt-

OtM of feel-
)mpa89 of a
ill bvinp^ to
of eloquent
arent, wife,
aved survi-
ill find it • .
s the name
ame of Hid
s less dear,
;lie task of
m as Kal)bi,
ell-desei'ved

andoned by
88, we know
e Gospel by
surely n «
incipally He
love. No ;
nnot present
, of awe or
on you as an
•; He seems
is from the

TUX UOLY KMtii or JtCiUI.

lU«ig«r of Bethlehem ; you see j f im reixmlng, on the
way to Egypt, auiidHt His bleiiHed taniily; or yovk
think of Him loat to Him parents, and fou«(i again by
them in t' e Tcunplo. Through all these ttoenes, what
can you do le«8 than love Him, — the Godiike child
that bears the grievances of unnecessary infancy for
! >ve of yoii During uU this time He annwered to no
other name th.m that of Jesus, — a Name rendered to
tM doubly weeL the lips o( her who first addresaed
it to Him.

As you wi! ' think on His Name in hours of deeper
meditaii^o and repentance; and straightways yoa
•hall see Him transformed into the man of sorrows,
the bearer of our griefs. You shall see Him cast
upon the gi'ound in the prayer of agony, swallowed
up in mortal anguish ; you shall follow Him through
itep«» too painful to be here rehearsed, to the grt^at
sacrifice of Calvary. When you behold Him there
stretched upon His cross, and expiring in cruel tor-
ment, yon will ask of any who stand gazing upon
Him, by what name they know Him, and all will an-
swer, " by the Name written above His head, ' Jesus
of Nazareth.' " No other name will Huit Him in these
passages of His life but this. "We cannot bring oui'-
selves to call Him here our Lord, our Messias, the
Christ, our Teacher. They are but cold and formal
titles of honor, when given to Him at Bethlehem or
on Calvary. One name alone, the adorable name of
Jesus, satisfies the desires of our heart, and utters in a
breath its accumulated feelings. Hence, the Seraph
of Assisium, as St. Francis has been called, than whom
no other on earth ever more closely imitated or m-

•Mm

TIIR IU)LT NAME or JKHtTll.

■emhled, m fnr nn raftn nmy, th« Son of Go<1, ever
clMMiahed with pt'culinr devotion th« early infancy
and the panaion of Je«iw, and by ft natural conw-
quence, never, M Bt. Bonaventure telU r,i, heard
that nacred Name pronounced, but a bright glow
of gratitude and delight diffused iUelf over but coun-

tenonce. '

St. Bernard, too, the warmth of whose devout ou^
breaks the coldness of our age would almost deem ex-
travagant, overflows with the most affectionate en-
thusiasm when he comments on this blessed Name.
It was, as he says, to him, "honey in th mouth, music
to the eur, and jubilee in the heart." " If thou writest,
I And no relish in it unless I read there, Jesus. If
thou discoursest, it hath no savor for me unless the
Name of Jesus be heard." (Serm. xv. in Cant.) Yet
even we, with all our lukcwarmness, will not occa-
sionally help feeling some small portion of this holy
ardor. Never will our secret prayer warm into fer-
vent and loving supplication, without this Name
frequently escaping from our lips. We shall dwell
upon it with a tenderer emotion than on any other
whereby we address God, our salvation. It will,
when often pronounced, unlock the more recondite
stores of our affections, too seldom opened in the pies-
ence of God ; it will be as wings, to the soul, of aspi-
ration and love soaring towards the possession of our

true country.

And now, applying this quality of His ever-blessed
Name to this preaching of His word,--what more can
we require to recommend it, than its being proclaimed
in that His Name? Who shall be able to resist a

MKIB

Ood, ev«r
•ly infancy
lUiil couse-
r,i, heard
right glow
ir bia coutt*

levout out-
fit deem ex-
tionate en-
Hued Name,
louth, music
hou writt'Ht,
, JesuH. If
unlesa the
:ant.) Yet
II not occa*
of this holy
rra into fer-
thiti Name
bhall dwell
m any other
m. It will,
re recondite
I in the pres-
Boul, of aspi-
essioQ of our

I ever-blessed
hat more can
ig proclaimed
e to resist a

, wnMI-

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

»-* ill 12.5

r- lllii

1.25 11 U

2.2

11° II 2.0

1.6

em ^^"7 sV

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4303

•sj

'^^

.^v

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Hisiorical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques

THE HOLY NAiME OF JESUS.

snmraons addressed to him under this most winning
sanction ? Who shall refuse his heart, when claimed
by One who bears such a title to his love ? When we
shall address the sinner, immersed in his vices, or en-
slaved to his passions, what shall we need to say, be-
yond the eloquent appeal of this most blessed Name ?
We will place before him all that his Saviour has done
to raise him from sin, and gain his love. On His be-
half, and in His Name, we will conjure him to answer
with a generous heart the call upon his affections.
We will paint as best we can the dark ingratitude
and enormous guilt of making this Name, as far as he
can, an empty sound, without character or meaning as
regards him. Or we will show him how that Jesus,
»v'ho ascended to Heaven, will one day return bearing
the same Name, but as an outraged title that pleads
for vengeance, to punish his unfeeling conduct.

When we shall see the slothful, faint-hearted Chris-
tian, whose desires are good, while bis efforts are weak,
staggering along the right path, but scarce standing
upright thereon, how better can we address him, to
arouse and strengthen him, than by recounting to him
the earnestness of purpose which the very Name of
Jesus imports in Him that bore it, to save and win
his souL It described an office of painful and ardu-
ous discharge, through suffering and death ; He who
undertook it, would fain keep the thought of it ever
before His eyes, by bearing, e'^en in the apparent
thoughtlessness of infancy, the name which must ever
have recalled it. And at the sight of such steadiness
in love, such earnestness of pei-severance in care of
him, will he refuse an earnestness of gratitude and a

THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS.

Bteadinesa of requitaU Will he refuse anytbiog
which ill that Name is required ?

If ever it he necessary to offer consolation to the
virtuous, in affliction and distress of mind, in tempta-
tion or desolation of spirit, what will be required but
to repeat to him this dear Name, so often a source of
refreshment to his soul, so often his shield in time of
conflict, so often his i-eward in heavenly contempt
tion. It will be to him as manna in the desert, or as
dew'toHermon— a quickening food, a fertilizing in-
fluence, by whose vigor he shall be restored to com-
fort and inward joy. ^ ,

Such shall be, with God's blessing, « our speech and
our teaching, not in the persuasive words of human
wisdom," but in Jesus Christ and Him crucified. (1
Cor. ii. 4.) Nothing else shall we judge ourselves to
know. But if we address ourselves to you in His
Name, in this Name do ye also hear. Remember, that
this Name was given Him foi- you, that is, for each
amongst us. It was one which without us He could
not have borne; for it expresses His relation to us.
To each of us ought it to be deai-, by each of us ought
it to be cherished, and lovingly pronounced. Speak
it in trouble, and it shall bring you comfort; speak it
in temptation, and it shall give you victory; speak it
in times of relaxing fervor, and it shall throw flx«
into your hearts; speak it in devotion, and it shall
perfect you. There is no time, no place, where it la
out of season, if to the lips at least to the thought;
there is no action so blessed which it will not im-
prove; there is no forgetfulness so deep fi'om which it
will not arouse you.

■ atiiVi-iJiitfiiA-M

anytbiog

on to the
1 tempta^
uired but
soarce of
Q time of
antemplar
3ert, or ag
ilizing ia-
i to com-

peech and
of human
jified. (1
rselves to
[)a in His
mber, that
s, for each
I He conld
ion to us.
)f us ought
id. Speak
t ; speak it
; speak it
throw fire
id it shall
where it is
b thought;
ill not im'
m which it

THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS.

But, my brethren, there are two periods when its
sweetness seems doubly sweet. For as we have seen
that this is peculiarly the name of Our blessed Saviour
in His infancy and in His passion, so n they two
corresponding periods of our lives, when it best ap-
peal's to become us. It is a sweet Name when lisped
by babes and sucklings, joined through early sugges-
tion, with those first names dear to parental affection,
which form so firm a root for filial love. It is good to
teach your little ones to utter it as they do your own,
that He who became an infant for their sakes may
gro.) up in their hearts as the first companion of their
dawning attachment, and have His love implanted as
deeply at least as any earthly affection. But oh I it is
sweeter still to the tongue of the dying who in life
have loved it and Him who chose it. Insipid to the
ears of such a one will be the catalogue of his titles,
his honors, or his possessions. Without power to help
will their names be, whom the bonds of the flesh have
knit to him, to be separated from them at that hour.
He will search his soul for some affection which can
stretch across the gi-ave, for soma link between the
heart of flesh and the disembodied spirit. He will
earnestly desire some token to show that he was fore-
chosen here below, some pass-word which angels shall
recognise, .some charm which evil spirits shall dread.
He will want some name written upon his garment
and upon his forehead, which at first glance may es-
tablish his claim to the mansions of bliss. And all
this he will find in this holy Name of Jesus, the God
of his salvation. If through life he have received and
loved it, as the summary of what under it was wrought

tHM

THE HOLY NAME OF JE8UH.

for his salvation ; if he have often fed his heart npon its
sweet nourishment, he will find in it an object of his
affections, imperishable and unchangeable, enduring
beyond his dissolution, and even more powerful m the
next world than in this. It shall seem written in let-
ters of light over the gate of eternity; it shall seem
graven with a pencil of fire on his heart; and even
from very habit and strengthened practice, his lips
will struggle to arrest his laat parting breath, and
form it into that r icred Name, inaudible save to an-
gels, whispered now only to Him that bore it.

Oh be this Holy Name called down upon us all I be

it our protection through this our earthly pilgrimage;
be it the assistance of this our ministry and of your
patience and profit. Be it our comfort in death, and
our joy ii eternity.

rt upon its
ject of hia

enduring
rful in the
tten in let-
shall seem
; and even
e, his lips
►reath, and
lave to an-

it.

i us all I be
pilgrimage ;
lid of your

death, and

SERMON V.
Sbe two (^ttnt ^0UtU» ci f ove.

John, ri. 11.

" And Jesua took the loaves, and when Ha had given thanki, Ha dlatributad
to them that were sat doTm."

There were supposed conjunctions of the heavenly
bodies, my brethren, which in ancient times were con-
fe'dered of favorable augury, as promising great bless-
ings to all beneath their influence. And if such spec-
ulations were mere vanity, springing only from the
foolish fancies of men, you will forgive me, if I own to
myself to discover something similar in the peculiar
concurrence of two most holy mysteries in the celebra-
tion of this day. For, on the one hand, the incident
related in the Sunday's Gospel, — the feeding of five
thousand persons with five loaves,— and the subse-
quent discouree thereon held by our Redeemer, forci-
bly turn my mind to the contemplation of that divine
Sacrament, wherein He feeds us in this wilderness
with bread truly descended from Heaven,— His own
adorable Body and Blood. But at the same time, the
festival which has fallen upon this same day, comme-
morative of the angel's annunciation to Mary, necessa-
rily draws our thoughts to another still greater mys-
tery on that occasion, wrought in favor of man ; for
no sooner had the spotless Virgin given her consent to

TUK TWO UHEAT MySTERIKH OF LOVK.

the lieftvenly tnessngo, hy thmts Meswd wordu, " Be-
hold the hftndmniil of the I^ird, he it done unto me
nccording to tliy word," than the Inciirnution of the
Son of God took place in her wotnb, through the
power of the Most High, and the Word made fleah
entered on that courae of blessing, which ended in our
salvation.

Either of those two mysteries, my brethren, is a
I'ich theme for discourse, but richer still for medita-
tion. Each of them presents to us an act of self-devo-
tion on the part of our dear Redeemer, whereby He
gives Himself up unreservedly to us, and makes His
own abasement a means of our sanctiflcation. The
more they are considered together, the stronger and
more numerous the analogies they present, till one
seems to be but the natural consequence and accom-
plishment of the other. Nor is it merely in the fancy
of the moderns that this close resemblance between
the myst<!rie8 of the Incarnation and the Eucharist is
to be found. It has been remarked by the wise and
venerable teachera of the ancient Church. For not
only in mattei-s of controversy regarding one of these
mysteries, is the other employed to afford illustration
or argument, but they are often compared together by
the Fathere, as similar in grandeur, efficacy, and love.
St. Ambrose, after clearly stating that the words of
consecration change the bread and wine into the
Body and Blood of Christ, as much as Moses changed
his rod into a serpeut, proceeds to say: "We will
now establish this mystery by the truth itself of the
Incarnation. Was the order of Nature followed, when
Jesus was born of a Virgin? Plainly not. Then

. 'n'miili'Mriji'ii 'Hmi

r>t(lfi, " Be-
unto me
ion of tlie
rough the
nade flesh
dt'd in our

thren, is a
or medita*
f self-devo-
hereby He
makes His
tion. The
'ODgei* and
it, till one
ind accora-
i the fancy
;e between
Sucharist is
3 wise and
. For not
me of these
illustration
logether by
, and love,
le words of
e into the
ies changed
"We will
tself of the
owed, when
not. Then

THK TWO OREAT MY.STElllKS OF LOVK.

why is that order to be looked for hereT' (De
luitiandis.)

" You believe," says St. Ephraim, the glory of Edessa
and the light of the Eastern Church, " you believe
that Christ the Son of Got' was born for you in the
flesh ? . . . Believe then, and with a firm faith receive
the Body and Blood of our Lord." (De Nat. Dei.)
In like manner, St. Augustine writes, "Christ took
upon him eai'th from the earth, because flesh is from
the earth, and this flesh He took from the flesh of
Mary ; and because He here walked in this flesh, even
this same flesh He gave us to eat for our salvation."
(In Psalm.)

In like manner, not to multiply authorities, St. Pe-
ter ChrysologuH says, that Christ is the bread which,
fii-st sown in the Vii-gin's womb, is finally brought to
the altar, to be our daily food. (Serra. Ixvii.) St.
John Chrysostom compares the altar to the manger,
in which Christ lies not wrapped in swaddling clothes,
but surrounded on all sides by the Holy Spirit, and
where we, like the wise men, adore Him, (Orat. de S.
Philog.) And a later writer, the Patriarch Dionysius,
though belonging to a separated Church, says, that the
altar is the symbol of the Vii-gin's womb, on which the
Holy Ghost descends, transmutes the bread and wine,
and makes them become the Body and Blood of Christ.
(Hor. Syr. p. 68.)

These examples, which might with little trouble
have been multiplied, are sufficient to prove, that it is
no result of scholastic ingenuity — no fanciful reasoning
of modern theology, to discover a marked parallelism
and resemblance between the two mysteries, which

■ana

^■^

100 TlIB TWO OBIAT MYSTIRIKH OF LOVE.

the circutngtances of today have brought together be-
fore our consideration. Unwilling, therefore, to give
np either, I will unite the two; and, after the venera-
ble authorities I have quoted, will endeavor to unfold
them united to your pious contemplation, treating of
them both, flrat ns a two-fold mystery ot humilia-
tion, and as a double mystery of grace. The whole
struggle between faith and weak yet haughty reason,
should, methii.ks, be directed to the conquest of a very
narrow point, which if faith has won, there remains no
further room for contest. All the difficulty of belief
should seem to rest upon the admission of only these
two words : " E<!ce vemo,"— Behold I come. And well
are they said to have been inscribed by the Eternal
Word in the very head or frontispiece of the Book,
wherein are registered the merciful counsels of God.
For they are as a seed from which fruits of incalcula-
ble abundance as well as sweetness must spring ; they
are as the theme from which the richest strains of
harmonious music may be developed ; they are a sum-
niary of deep incomprehensible wisdom from which a
successive series of heavenly truths may be evolved.
Nay, if they are but on the first page of that blessed
book, there must be much to come after them to fill

the volume.

Admit these words, and whei-e will your faith come
to an end, or where shall you be able to say, "I have
believed enough"? When the Son of God, the con-
substantial to the Father, hath once consented to take
upon Him the nature of man, frail, disfigured, and dis-
graced by sin, it is not surely for man's reason to cal-
culate what more He may be impelled to do. After

aMj^afjutim i Mui.- ■«

-4tk.

TIIK TWO ORKAT MYHTKIIIW Or LOVK.

101

jetber be-
e, to give
bo vencra-

to unfuM
reating of
; humilio-
rhe whole
ity reason,
t of a very
'einains no
y of belief
only these

And well
he Eternal

the Book,
(Is of God.
•f incalcula-
ring; they

strains of

are a sum*
)ra which a
be evolved,
hat blessed
;hem to fill

• faith como
ay, " I have
od, the con-
ited to take
•ed, and dis-
asoQ to cal-
do. After

the fliHt step, from the glory of Heaven and tho bmom
of the Father, into the womb, however pure, of woman,
th« »tr|) from thin to the cross, and from the crosa to
the nltar, must worn but an comparatively short in His
gigantic career of love. For, ^"hatever may befal His
humanity, insults, injuries, torments, death, U but as a
mere nothing compared with what He Himself assumed
to His divinity.

What is a cross upon the shoulders of the man,
compared with the burden of the flesh united to the
Godhead? What are blows upon His cheek, or
thorns upon His head, compared to the humiliation of
feeling, the cravings o*" human wants, in the pewon of
a God-Man ? What were naila through His hands,
or a spear in His side, compared with the ignominy
of submitting to the temptations of the Evil One ?
What was death, compared with the imputation of
guilt to which His Incarnation brought Him, — yea, of
the guilt of the entire world ? No, when once that
first plunge into the abasement of human nature had
been made, — when the entire abyss of its misery had
thus been absorbed into Himself, the rest must be as
mere drops and sprinklings, concerning which a lov-
ing heart will not condescend to calculate.

Nay, there seems to be something ungenerous and
unkind, in tbe attempt to establish any thing like a
proportion between our belief, and our powers of com-
prehension, or our powers of love, when once we have
seen that the very first stride went so infinitely beyond
our measurement. There should seem to have been
laid in the first mystery of Christ's earthly existence,
Bucb a strong foundation of confidence, as would al-

102

•m* TWO ORZAT MTmCRIKB OV LOVE.

low ft nupomtriictore of nny oxtont ftiid of Riiy mnim.
TluTO should ftpponr in His fliHt words, a promiso of
■o muoh, M should prevent hH surprisM itt whiitover
TOiKlit f«dh)w itj fulfilrnwnt. Man shouhl listm to iti
unfohling woudors, t(» its tnlti of lovo, with th« Hiui-
plicity of a very child, who, upon oftch r»fcitftl of a
niiuvellouo incident, only cr/ivcs and expects another
still more strange, and is Ou.y disappointed and grieved
when the history is cloned.

And, in like manner, when a man with a heart dis.
posed to love, has learnt and believed, that out of
affection to him, a God of infinite power and majesty
has become a helpless infant, seeming completely as
the children of men in a similar condL'.on, yet pos-
sessing all the fulness of the Godhead ; then that this
infant, grown up to man's estate, has died an igno
roinioua death, impelled by the same love, to save
him lost, at the expense of His own life,— will it any
longer seem strange, or incredible to him, that even
after these efforts of incomprehensible love, this im-
tiring benefactor had discovered and adopted a new,
unheard-of way to complete His scheme of benefits-
has submitted to a new act of humiliation, so aa to
become our food ?

It would be indeed too inestimable a benefit for
him to admit without proof; but against this his
heart, at least, wonld not allow his reason to start
objections. For any of us might be called upon to
give satisfactory evidence, that an affectionate Father
has left him a magnificent legacy, but we shall think
it nothing strange or wonderful if we were told that,
being able, He had done so.

w i mw] SJ ' iw wgiw^^w^-wwp^**

liny miiHH.
promiao nf

iHtcn to its
1 the 8iin>
>citnl of a
tfl another
ml grieved

I heart dis^
bftt out of
id majenty
npletely as
n, yet pos-
n that this
1 an igno
^e, to aave
-will it any
, that even
ire, this un-
)ted a new,
' benefits — •
n, so as to

benefit for
st this his
on to start
ed upon to
oate Father
shall think
) told that,

TOK TWO OKKAT MYrtTKItlKH nV I.OVK.

103

lint the rewnibliinoo lietween thtt two mysteries of
the Incaruiition and Kuchanst will l)oar a closer in*
vettigation. In Itoth there is an outward veil, hiding
from tlie eye of flewh a precious luul divine depowit,
visible only to that of faith. Wlieji the wise n»eu
came from the Kast, under the conduct of a mi-
raoulons star, there can be no doubt that they were
but little preparcil for what they were to discover
at Bethlehem. The very ci' .mstanco of their in-
quiry at Jerusalem, for Him who was born King of
the JewH, shows that they expected to find His birth
treated as a public event, and His eutran'>o into His
kingdom hailed with festivals of joy. Yet they find
Herod ignorant not merely of the occurrence, but of the
place where it was likely to happen, and obliged to
summon the priests to meet their iniiuiries. What a
shock was hero to their expectations 1 Still, en-
couraged by the reappearance of the star, they prose-
cute their journey with undiminished ardor, and arrive
at Bethlehem. Their miraculous guide points to a
poor dilapidated shed, not likely to be tenanted by
any but outcasts of human society; yet, strong in
faith, they enter in.

What do they discover? A little babe, wrapped
up as the poorest infant would be, and laid upon a
bundle of straw! And is this all that they have
crossed the deserts to see ? Is this all that they aban-
doned their homes and palaces to discover? When
they set off from their homes, their friends derided
them, perchance, for undertaking so long a journey,
and on the guidance of a wayward meteor, that might
abandon them in the midst of some frightful wilder-

104 THE TWO GREAT MYSTETWES OF LOVE.

ncss, Many probably thought it little better than
madness to go so far in search of a foreign sovereign,
only yet an infant. What an account will they have
to give on their return of their success, and of the eu'-
ployuient made of their precious gifts 1 Will not
their very attendants ridicule thera for their credulity,
in coming so far to find only a child in a manger ?
Will they dare to report what they have discovered
to Herod ? In spite of all such obstacles, which pride
must have raised to a simple faith, without any new
assurances to encourage them ; without any miracu-
lous splendor, round the humble group they have
found, to overawe them; without any evidences to
convince them, they trust implicitly to the sure guid-
ance of that star, which having led them safe through
all their journey, first to Jerusalem and then to Beth-
lehem, they do not conceive likely now to turn traitor
and mislead them ; they prostrate themselves before
that child, they adore Him, and by their gifts do Him
supreme homage, acknowledging Him as their Lord

and their God.

If we then have in like manner been led by the
light of God, through all the obscure paths of faith,
shall we hesitate to trust oar guides to the utmost?
If His word,^which told us how His Son became man,
and has been believed, tells us no less, that He has
assumed another disguise of love, and shrouded His
glories still further for our benefit, shall it not be
equally believed? If His Church, which hath been
our principal conductor through the mazes of early
tradition, whereon alone the belief in the Divinity of
the Incarnate Word can be solidly built, fixing its di-

ter than
)vei'eign,
ley have
f the eir-
^ill not
iredulity,
manger ?
iscovered
ich pride
any new
J miracu-
iiey have
lences to
ure guid-
3 through
\ to Beth-
ra traitor
'^63 before
3 do Him
heir Lord

(d by the
3 of faith,
e utmost?
;ame man,
\i He has
)uded Hia
. it not be
hath been
IS of early
Divinity of
cing its di'

THK TWO GREAT MYBTETIIKS OF LOVE.

U)ii

recting ray, in the end, upon that humble tabernacle,
assures you, with the same voice that till now you
have believed, that therein dwells the God of your
souls, your dear Saviour, no longer under the form of
flesh, but with that same flesh, in its turn, concealed
under the appearance of bread, why will you hesitate
to prostrate yourself and adore ? If He Himself, of
whom reverently we treat, whose words we unhesitat-
ingly receive, when he tells us that He and His Fa-
ther are one, taking up this bread, solemnly declares
it to be His Body, shall we make difference between
word and word, — reason away the glonous announce-
ment of the one, and not fear that we are weakening
the testimony of the other ? No, like those Eastern
Kings, we will hush and subdue every suggestion of
pride ; and if the humiliation of our blessed Saviour
in either mystery, shocks our sense, let it be honored
the more with a corresponding humility of our hearts.
But if a few, like the wise men and the shepherds,
worshipped Him devoutly in the disguise of a child,
there were many who, then and afterwards, refused to
acknowledge Him for more than He outwardly ap-
peared, a mere man, however privileged. And so
should we not wonder, nor should our faith be shaken,
if many now refuse to raise their belief above the range
of their senses, and admit more to be contained in the
Eucharistic species than they outwaidly exhibit. For
it is easier to abstract from the influence which our
senses exercise upon our judgments, when they are not
immediately called into use, than where the object of
inquiry falls directly under them. Thus we find that
the preaching of Christ's Divinity was more easily re-

[•^mmmmmm^^lHfim

106

Tire IWO GREAT MYSTERIES OF LOVE.

ceived from tha Apostles in distftnt countries, where
His peraon had not been seen, than in Judea and Je-
rusalem, where men had been familiarized with His
human form. And so may it be that many who, able
to use the testimony of their senses in disciissing the
inquiry concerning the blessed Sacrament, prefer it to
every other, would have acted similarly in regard of
our Saviour's Godhead, had the same test been within
their reach. Contrary to Thomas, they believe be-
cause they see not; peradventnre, had they seen, they
would not have believed.

But all this is only in the couree of God's ordinary
dispensation. It would seem that the love of our
blessed Redeemer towards us would never be sufficient
for His heart, unless, in some way, it involved His suf-
fering. The humiliation of the manger was but pre-
paratory to the humiliation of the cross : and all the
intermediate space was filled by privation, poverty,
and sorrow. He became man, to all appearance, that
He might become the reproach of men. And so is it
no small enhancement to His gi'aciousness, in thus
again abasing Himself in the adorable Sacrament, that
thereby, even after returning to His glory, He has
remained exposed to the insults and ingratitude of

men.

I spea^ not of those ignorant blasphemies uttered
against it by those who believe not, and know not
what they do: still less of those frightful outrages
which heresy and infidelity, in moments of impious
frenzy, have committed. But I speak of our own con-
duct,— K)f the treatment which He receives from us
who believe. Do you not sometimes think the world

HiOMMiliiiii

"^^-T"

TllE TWO GREAT MYSTERlRj* OF LOVE.

lOT

;8, where
and Je«
with His
yho, able
ssing the
efer it to
regard of
sn within
ilieve be-
een, they

ordinary
7e of onr
I safiicient
id His 8uf-

but pre-
d all the

poverty,
ance, that
id so is it
I, in thus
nent, that
', He has
atitude of

}8 uttered
know not
[ outrt^es
»f impious
r own con-
s from us
the world

innst have been stupidly blind to its own happiness
and blessing, to have allowed Jesus for thirty yean to
live hidden in a poor carpenter's cottage, and not to
have discovered the jewel it possessed, and begun,
much earlier than it did, to enjoy His instructions, wit-
ness His example, be benefitted by His miracles, and
be blessed by His presence ? But there at least was
a deep counsel of God that He should lie concealed.

What, then, shall we say of ourselves, who have
Him ever in the midst of us, humble, indeed, and re-
tired, yet ever accessible, day and night within the
reach of our homage and petitions, and yet do so sel-
dom visit Him, so seldom turn toward? Him our eyes
or thoughts ? The churches, which should be crowded
all day Avith adorers, are comparatively empty ; if
here, in Rome, what shall we say of our own country ?
And we seem to make over our duty to the lamps
that bum day and night, as our hearts should do, be-
fore the altar. Oh ! it is too true that God seems to
have made Himself too common,— that we act as
though we thought He had demeaned Himself too
low ! For, as a devout author observes, had He ap-
pointed but one place on earth wherein the adorable
sacrifice could be offered, and but one priest who
could administer it, what eager devotion would drive
crowds of believing Christians to adore at so privi-
leged a place I And even so, it would be nothing
more than He formerly did for the ark of His coven-
ant, of settim wood and gold. But now that He has
unreservedly made Himself ovw to us, — that He
dwells in every part of our cities and in every hamlet,
as though but one of ourselves, — we pass by the doors

■, .

U ' W f ftJ ' «tW* ' i»l'' B M1 ' M- *W

108 TlIE TWO OBEAT MYSTERIES OF LOVE.

of His temples without a thought of Him, we enter
them often without respect, we admire them and their
riches, but their real treasure we heed not. And
would to God, that only in this, our neglect, did Christ
suffer from us in this blessed mystery, and not m a
way which, in His Incarnation, was spared Hun I
When, on this day, He descended into the womb ot
Mary He found His chosen place of confinement strait,
indeed, but pure and holy; He dwelt with one whose
heart was entirely His, whose soul was free from every
Btain, whose desires, whose thoughts, were in every
respect devoted unto God. But when, in this blessed
Sacrament, He comes into our breasts, alas I what
does He find ? A chamber, perhaps, but lately ten-
anted by His hateful enemy, sin, ejected thence a few
hours before by a hasty repentance. Its paltry fur-
niture is yet in the disorder and confusion which thie
foe had caused there, bearing on every side traces of
the riot and havoc committed within it so long and so
late. A few shreds and tattered scraps of virtuous
protestations collected together in half aa hour, out of
the stores 6f our prayer-books, have been hung around
it, to cover its habitual bareness. The remains of
many a once precious gift, presents from God's bounty,
the torn fragmenta of contracts of love and promises
of service, lie scattered about, patched up for the mo-
ment, by its passing fervor. And, perhaps, even in
the cornera of this den yet lurk, skulking from his
sight, irregular attachments and dangerous affections,
which we have not had courage to expel when we
turned out his full-grown enemies, but still to his ey^
monstere of hateful shape and nature. Into this cell,

THE TWO ORKAT MYSTERIES OF LOVE.

109

ve enter
md their
t. And
id Clirist
not in a
d Him I
kvomb of
nt strait,
tie wliose
3IU every
in every
8 blessed
18 1 what
itely ten-
nce a few
altry fur-
hich this
traces of
ng and so
I virtuous
)ur, out of
ng around
emains of
I's bounty,
I promises
>r the mo-
>8, even in
from his
affections,
when we
■jo his eyes
> this cell,

this dungeon, we invite Ilim, the King of Glory, and
have the courage to introduce Him, the living God ;
and He remembers the first time He visited it, how
clean and fair it wiw, how cheerful and pleasant n
dwelling, and how He then decked it out for us with
those gifts, and many others, long since broken, or
lost, or flung away. And we, oh, do not we feel our
cheeks burning with shame, when we have thus re-
ceived Him, to think what He has found within us;
and to what a degradation we have dragged the Son
of God 1 What was the hall of Herod, or the court
of Pilate, or the house of Caiphaa, to this? And
what, if when He is once there, you are so wretched
as to strike and buffet Him by sin ? If, as too often
happens, on the very day that you have received Him
into your bosom, you offend Him : and thus betray
Him in your own house to your enemies, while dip-
ping your hand with Him into the same dish, and
feasting at the same table ? Oh, how has our dear
Saviour di-unk to the dregs the cup of humiliation
and self-abasement, that He might enable us to drink
of the chalice of His salvation !

If Jesus hath twice humbled Himself so low, it was
love that constrained Him. For the moving cause,
the active principle of both these mysteries, was affec-
tion for us. When John, in the sublime preface to
his Gospel, describes to us the Divinity and Incaina-
tion of the Word, he sums it up in these terms : " And
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt amongst us."
Here was a double blessing, in first assuming our hu-
man nature, and then retaining it. We frequently
read in Scripture of angels appearing to the patriarchs

•liiifiMiiiiMi

THE TWO QKEAT MYSTERIES OF LOVB.

in a human flgare. Bat they merely put on this ont-
ward form &a a garment, or disgoise, which they threw
oflF again as goon as their message had been delivered
and tlieir commission discharged. One might almost
imagine thai it would have heeu an intolerable hard-
ship to those pure spirits, had any of them, who were
sent on such errands to earth, been obliged to retain,
for the rest of their existence, that body which they
had joined to themselves for the occasion.

In like manner, might not our Saviour have ap-
peared in the flesh to teach and instruct us, or by
some act of graciousness, save us, without assuming it
so as for ever to retain it 1 But His object would not
have been thus attained, of dwelling and conversing
among men, and truly being as one of us. It was not
merely for the one momentary act of redemption that
He put on our nature ; it was to procure thereby for
us that abundance of grace which on every side flowed
from His sacred humanity. The excellence of His ex-
ample, the model of His prayer. His conduct under
temptation, His suflfering of hardship and distress,
His resignation. His obedience and other virtues
would have been lost to us, had he not become truly
man, dwelling upon earth. That pleading which His
wounds, still open, keep up in our behalf; that light
and joy which the presence of His humanity sheds
over heaven ; that glory which the exaltation of His
flesh secures to man ; that headship of Hi^ Church on
earth which He retains ; that mediatorship which He
holds between His Father and us; these, au^ many
other immense prerogatives, we should not have en-
joyed, had He contented Himself with less than the

H^lTl ^ i WiH tlWi

THl! TWO ORKAT MYSTEKIKa OP LOVTE. Ill

this ont-
ey threw
delivered
tt almost
ble hard-
fvho were
to retain,
bich they

have ap-
19, or by
mining it
rould not
»n versing
t was not
)tion that
ereby for
de flowed
rf His ex-
ict under

distress,
r virtues
)me truly
vhich His
!;hat light
lity sheds
an of His
Church on
which He
lur* many

have en-
) than the

alMolute and permanent union of His manhood with
His Godhead.

But then, how comparatively short of the object of
His great design would the execution have fallen, had
but one short visit to earth comi)nsed the whole of
his commerce with His new brethren here below 1
And still more, what an undue advantage, so to speak,
would they have enjoyed over uSv whom accidental
circumstances brought to live in the same time, and
country, with Him. Were they to possess the priv-
ilege of touching His sacred body, and we not be al-
lowed to touch even the hem of His garment ? Was
the woman of Chanaan to be admitted to partake of
the fulness of His benefits, and we who are the chil-
dren of the kingdom, be denied what she ventured to
claim — the right of feeding on the crumbs from His
table 'i Was He to place His hands upon the heads
of children, some of whom, perhaps, joined in the out-
cries against Him, and be to us like Isaac, who had no
blessing for Esau, when Jacob had anticipated him ?
Such is one motive assigned by the great Father of
the Eastern Church, St. Marathas, for the institution
of the Blessed Eucharist.

No, my brethren, our dear Redeemer was too im-
partial in His love to treat us bo. We who were to
come eighteen hundred years too late to enjoy His
company in the flesh, had as large and as warm a
place in His heart, as they who entertained Him in
their houses. It was but natural for us to expect from
Him some ingenious contrivance, some institution of
almighty love, whereby His sojourn upon earth should
be prolonged until the end of time. Even in the Old

!>.

: '

i*iM

•0mm

119

THE TWO GREAT MYSTr.RlMI OF LOVB.

Law, His preaenco by visible emblems, which gave as-
surance and promised mercy, was made permanent in
His holy place. While Israel dwelt in the wilder-
ness, His cloud overshadowed the tabernacle; and
both there and in the Temple, the Holy of Holies con-
tained a mercy-seat, whereon He sat between the
cherubim, to receive the supplications of priests and
people. And if this was a figure or symbol of Him,
who alone has wrought propitiation for many, was it
otherwise than reasonable to expect, in that Iaw
when realities succeeded to shadows, truths to figures,
there would be some provision for a corresponding
token of God's presence, securing, however, its reality
and truth ? Such precisely was supplied us in the
Blessed Eucharist, in which Christ is with us, our
trae Emanuel, ever residing in ortr sanctuaries. There
we may visit Him hourly, and pour our entreaties be-
fore His feet, assured of His listening to us with gra-
ciousuess and sweetncis. There we may grieve over
our sins, sympathise with His suflferings, and protest
to Him onr love. And thus does the Sacrament of
the altar hourly appear what it is — the full accom-
plishment of His manifestation in the flesh ; the firm-
ly securing to all ages and all places, of one of the
greatest blessings of His Incarnation, His " dwelling
amongst us." It is, indeed, the completing of this in-
effable mystery.

Further, the Incarnation of Christ Jesus, was the
preparation for Kedemption ; the Eucharist is its ap-
plication. He became man that, as man, He might
suffer and die, and so procure for us all grace, in-
clusive of eternal salvation. He became our food,

THK TWO OKEAT MYSTERIICS OF LOVI.

118

!h gave as*
■luaDent iu
be wildor-
acle ; aud
tlolies c<m-
tween the
priests and
>1 of Him,
iny, was it
that I«aw
to figures,
[■espondiag
, its reality
as in the
th U8, our
ies. There
treaties be-
j with gra-
;rieve over
,nd protest
craiuent of
full accom-
I ; the firm*
one of the
" dwelling
of thb ia>

IS, was the
\i is its ap-
, He might
L grace, in-
) our food,

that 80 the remembrance of His passion might be
ever kept before us ; that His precious blood might
be applied to our souls, and that wo might be filled
with all grace, by contact with its very source antl
author.

But, finally, the great and true analogy between
those two mysteries, consists in the communication
made in both of God to man. The love which in-
spired the Eternal Word to take upon Him our hu-
roan nature, was in the form of an ardent desire to
devote Himself to man, to sacrifice Himself for him.
He became one of us, so to acquire an interest in all
that concerns us. He gave to us, so far as he could,
participation in that divine nature, which He as-
sociated to our humanity. He gave us heirship with
Himself in Heaven. And, after this. He gave up to
man, and for man, all that He had acquired, if it
could be considered an acquisition — His time, His
mind. His strength, His happiness, His blood. His
life.

But then all these communications and gifts were
made to our race in general ; and only through their
connection with it, to the individual man. Whatever
He thus bestowed, was bestowed upon mankind.
Not, however, there would His love rest; but it
sought to communicate all this and more, individually
and pereonally, to each of us ; and this He accom-
plished in the divine Eucharist. But strange as at
first sight it may appear, there was a corresponding
ardor of desire on the part of man for such a unii>n,
tnfbeable among the ruined traditions of heathen
superstitions. For, in many couutries of the old and
8

I ■

TMK TWO ORKAT MY8TKIM1C8 OF LOVK.

new world, d'nl the i<1ea prevnll, tliot hy pfirtnlclng of
victims otTd'H'tl to the Deity, nmn did become no-
tunliy united and incorporated with Him ; and many
were the vain follies devised, wherwhy wiser and
holior men were HuppoHfd to arrive at a close, and
nio8t intimate, union with God. Wherever nature,
even in it« degradation, has preserved a craving after
any thing good and holy, we need not be 8urj)rised if
it be gratified.

And how, in this mystery of love, it is gratified, .
they who love their Saviour alone can tell. When,
with a conscience cleaured by penance of the leHser
tranRf^/essions to which all are subject, and a heart at
peace with itself, free from rancor, from anxiety, from
disturbing fear, they approach their Saviour's feast,
they feel their hearts so divided between eagerness
and humility, love and a sense of unworthiness, as to
tremble, they scarc'y know if from hesitation or hope.
But when they have drawn nigh unto the altar, and
receiveil the pledge o' their salvation, he seems to
come into their souls as rain upon the fleece, in calm
and sweet serenity. Their hearts are too full for ana-
lyeing their feelings ; but there is a sense of silent
unalterable happiness— an absorbing overthi-ow of
tranquil joy, which disdains the feeble expression of
the tongue. The presence of their God is felt with
sufficient awe to depress the soul into humble adorar
tion — the presence of our loving Redeemer is ex-
perienced with an intensity of aflfection, that barns in
the heart, rather than breaks forth into a flame. But
this deep paroxysm of heavenly feeling, this foretitote
of future bliss, cannot last long, but that the out-

■^SSSOm

MMHMHlMi

TlIK TWO OKKAT MYH'n':RI>« OV LOVK.

115

rtiiklng of
i.'oom« nc-
ftiid many
iv'wer ftiui
clo8(^, nnd
er natuio,
A'ing ftftei*
urprised if

\ gfTfttifled, ,
1. When,
the leHser
a heart at
liet.y, from
Dur's feast,
engernesii
iness, aa to
sa or hope.
I altar, and
e seem* to
)ce, in calm
ull for ana-
le of silent
erthrow of
pression of
is felt with
nble adora-
imer is ex-
at barns in
3ame. Bat
lis foretitste
at the out-

burst of contending affections must take place. It is
as though so many different iumatt>s of the heart, the
children of the house, scarce restrained for a time
from the presence of a brother they revere and love,
at length br(»ke open the door into his presence, and
poured forth their tumultuous emotions upon him.
There hope seems to seize upon his strengthening
hand, and faith to gn/e upon his inspiring eye, and
love to bury itn face in his bosom, and gratitude to
crown his head with garlands, and humble sorrow
to sit down at his feet and weep. And amidst this
universal homage and joy, of every affection and
every power, the blessed Jesus sits enthroned, sole
master of the heart and of the soul, commanding peace
and imparting gladness, filling with sweetness, as
with a heavenly fragrance, tho entire being. True,
the vision soon dies away, and leaves us to the
drearier duties *f the day, its burthen and its heat ;
but the dew of the morning will lie upon that Christ-
ian's soul, long after the bright cloud that dropt it
hath faded away.

If, my brethren, there were any one point whereon
I could concentrate the zeal of every order of men
who have our dear country's true interest at heart ; if,
by narrowing the sphere of our exertions, I could
hope to increase their intensity, yet so as to neglect
no claim, I own that I would turn the thoughts and
heai-ts of all to the restoration of the belief, the
knowledge, the worehip of the Blessed Eucharist
amongst us. I would beg that comparatively small
stress should be laid upon other matters contested
between us and our fellow-subjects ; but that every

riWMM

TUK TWO OKKAT MTHTRUIKM Ok' I.OVC

MMTgy ol olvrpry niid Inity whould he devoted to t1i6
vindication nu«l iidorniiou of thin incompHraoitj Snciiv-
niifut. Tlinu) )iuiu1i>m1 yi«ni>4 of p I'Ho it'j»*ction of
its true doctiiim in idolatroun ; three c«m miwi of pri«
VAtion of the )>lcHMitigi wliich it alone can hentow
upon n>an, ho nuioli written nnd sipokt-n ftgiunut tlia
nol>leit iniititution of Divine love, — the«e thingi are a
fearful weight u)K)n a natiou'ii aoul, not to be expiated
but by many tears and nuicli loving n-paration iiy
tho«e that lielieve. Let tlio laity be ready to concur
in every measure that nmy be proposed for man's
public homage, a bolder worship, and a more fre-
quent use of it in our country. Let us, who havo
dedicated ouimdves to its ministry, whose standing-
place is by God's altar, consider ourselves the apostles
of this mystery of love. Let us be willing to suffer
every extremity to promote its honor and glory, and
diffuse its benefits among men. Happy they, who
having collected thousands to hen.r them, shall take
care not to let them depart contented with their
words, but shall send them home nourished with this
heavenly bread, divinely multiplied so as to suffice
for all, pop ; .'ing every savor of delight, medicine,
food, sweetoitSi , nrd strength w urce of our hope, fuel
of our lov ., t i ' unt^ of our salvation, and pledge of a
blessed eternity.

ted to tht

•jection of
liet of pri«
MX bestow
Pfniimt the
lings arti a
u expiated
irntion hy
• to concur
fur mnn*s

more fro-
who havo

standing-
be ap()Htl«8
g to suffer
glory, and
they, who
shall take
with their
1 with this
I to HufAce

medk'ine,

hope, fuel
)ledge of a

SEKMON VI.
Sb4bor iiita (fiMvtU

Uatt. itU, 1, f.

"And ftfUrtli ilkyt JMua UkMh unto Him Pntar and Jtmet and John
hia brothvr, antl l>rtngeth ti>niu up Into a Ugh mountain apart ; and Uo waa
Innallfnrad before them."

Last Sunday we contemplated our beloved Savionr
on the mountain of temptation ; we are culled this day
to consider Him on the mountain of His glory. lie
was ttien under trial, lonely and unfriended, without a
disciple to witness His stniggles — without an admirer
to sympathize in His sun'erings ; He is now in triumph,
surrounded and supported by faithful f(»l lowers, and
by the venerable representatives of the older saints,
who feel a deep and affectionate interest in the maj*
esty and splendor which, tor a time, invest Him. In
Hit life of sorrow this is a solitary event, a suspension,
for a few moments, of that couitie which He had chosen
—a course of toil and travail, of persecution and afflic-
tion. Can we, then, be surprised that His disciples,
amazed at the unusual spectacle, and overpowered by
the newness of its delights, should have longed that it
might become perpetual ? Their divine Master is no
more such as they have known Him till now ; no more
walking in meekness among men, as though He were
but one of themselves: He is raised upiu majesty, His

118

TlIABOtt AND OLIVKT.

face 19 blight as the sun, His raiment as white and
glittering as nnow ; Moses, the great legislator of their
-nation, hath broken from the confinement of death ;
Elias, the mightiest of the prophets, hath abandoned
the seat of his temporary rest, to do Him homage, and
bear Him their testimony. He is no longer harassed
by the malicious and teazing questions of Phaiisees
and scribes, nor blasphemed by the scoffs and jeers of
an unbeliving multitude ; but Heaven speaks its appro-
bation of their faith, and utters a powerful witnessing
to His divine authority. Yes, the beauty and majesty
of the better world appeared for a moment to have
descended upon this lower state, and Heaven seemed,
through that mountain's top, to have imparted unto
earth the thrilling kiss of reconciliation and love.

Who, then, shall wonder if Peter, ever ardent and
uncalculating in his affection, should have exclaimed,
" Lord, it is good for us to be here I" Nor was there
in this exclamation aught ot selfish desire, or a care of
his own enjoyment ; inasmuch as forthwith he added,
" If thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one
for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias." For
himself and his two companions, whose hearts m his
own he could comprehend, he asks not that provision
should be made. He and they would gladly brave
the rage of mountain storms, and the summer's scorch-
ing ray, unsheltered and unheeded, so that they might
witness the glory of their Master and the happy com-
panionship in which He was engaged.

But, alas, " he knew not what he said." He .knew
not th'at he and his two fellow-apoatles were reserved
to Tvitness, upon another mount, a spectacle sorrow-

- -ffiggij..

«fi^^1pn.4p*iMiwiiiiiii an

THABOK AND OUVET.

119

rhite and
r of their
)f death ;
3andoned
nage, and
harassed
Phaiisees
d jeers of
its appro
vitneasing
d majesty
b to have
a seemed,
irted nnto
love.

rdent and
axclaimed,
was there
r a care of
he added,
nacles, one
lias." For
arts in his
, provision
idly brave
er's scorch'*
they might
lappy corn-
He .knew
re reserved
de sorrow-

fully contrasting with what they now saw ; on Thabor
he was mercifully kept in ignorance of the desolation
of Olivet ; the splendor of the one dazzled him into
forgetfulness of what had been foretold of the other's
anguish ; and the cruel contrast between glory and
agony, adoption and abandonment by God, which the
two were intended to present them, were withheld
from their loving souls. But not so be it with us, to
whom our Saviour's life in its entireness has been pro-
posed for an example and a lesson, and who may well
temper the variety of emotions it has a power .3 ex-
cite, by the comparison of its divei-BP parts. Andj
therefore, of the many and moving instructions, which
this day's Gospel may well suggest, I will fain choose
the one which seems to me most touching, that of dis-
coursing on the mountain of His glorious transfigurfv-
tion, "concerning His decease which He should ac-
complish at Jerusalem." Thus it is, that in the wt>rd8
of the Psalmist, " Thabor and Hermon" are brought
together to " rejoice in His name" (Ps. Ixxxviii. 18),
that Hermon of the New Law, on which the dew of
life, our dear Redeemer's blood, firet trickled down,
•and thence descended over the hills of Sion. (Pa.
cxxxiii. 8.)

For whosoever shall diligently and lovingly con-
sider the scenes of these two mountains of Thabor and
of Olivet — the transfiguration unto glory, and the
transfiguration unto abasement which occurred in each
— will not fail to be struck by the notable resem-
bNnces and the nicely balanced differences which they
exhibit ; as if intended by the Spirit of God for the
working out of some great and mingled instruction.

«.i— wiWiilfcMiafc-ii " I I " ■■

I i.rM-v liii'i rill' n I *''

■mMpm—

190

THABOR AKD OLIVET.

If'

And it is in the joint contemplation of the two, that
my humble endeavors shall strive to engage you this
day : showipg you, through God's grace, how upon the
former Jesus publicly received the glorious title, which
He of right possessed, of the true and " well-beloved
Son of God," and on the latter mode good His claim
to that other, more endearing, title " of the Son of

Man."

Twice, then, did our blessed Redeemer summon
Peter, James, and John, to be the witnesses of a great
change in His outward appearance and in His inner-
most soul: once to see Him exalted into a glory more
than human ; another time to see Him sunk into the
deepest abyss of wretchedness whereof humanity
should seem capable. On the first occasion, when
lifted so high, earthly attendants are sent to remind
Him of His future sorrows, and check, in a manner,
the torrent of delight which b poured into His soul;
» on the other, a heavenly messenger comes down to
temper the bitterness of His cup of sorrows with con-
solation, and nerve Him to His trials and griefs by the
prospect of their glorious end. On Thabor, as St.
Luke has recorded, "Peter, and they that were with •
him, were heavy with sleep; and waking, saw His
gloiy, and the two men that stood with Him." (Luke,
ix. 82.) On Olivet the same drowsiness overtook
them, and drowned their senses, till they awoke only
to see their Master in the hands of His cruel foes. la
His first transfiguration, the voice of the Father wag
heard proclaiming Him His well-beloved Son ; in the
second, He entreated "with a strong cry and tears .to
Him that was able to save Him from death" (Heb.

i0im

THABOR AND OLIVET.

) two, tbat
e you this
V upon the
title, which
ell-beloved
His claim
the Sou of

T summon
i of a great

His inner-
glory more
ik into the
humanity
ision, when

to remind

a manner,
> His soul;
»s down to
7B with con-
:riefB by the
ibor, as St.
i were with •
ig, saw His
im." (Luke,
83 overtook
awoke only
lel foes. In

Father was
Son ; in the
md tears .to
eath" (Heb.

V. 7), and seemed to be rejected. In that He was
raised above the earth. His garments were changed
intv a raiment of glory ; in this He was stretched
upon the ground, and those garments were steeped in
His own blood 1

Need I, my brethren, ask you, wherefore these con-
trasting spectacles were presented to the three fa-
vored apostles, and, through their witnessing, to us ?
For, who can doubt that the two natures in our Lord's
sacred person were thus intended to be exhibited, each
on its proper stage. His divinity raisad aloft to re-
ceive the homage of the most exalted saints, and be
the object of a well-assured faith. His humanity
abased to all that it, and we, can suffer, as to our
proper and common sphere. And by this two-fold
change which He undergoes, we are led into a suita-
ble, but yet inverted, variation of feeling : in His ex-
altation, our pride should be humbled into iowly do-
cility ; and through His humiliation we should be
cheered into a patient and resigned endurance.

The mountain of Thabor is, without doubt, the rep-
resentation, united in a lively scene^ of all the evidence
which God's holy word, in sundry places, hath given
of our blessed Redeemer's divine authority, and divine
nature. The written'word is but a dead letter, liable
to misapprehension, possessing no vital power to vary
its evidences according to our wants, no voice to shape
a fitting answer to our specific inquiries. There is,
moreover, a charm in the sound of man's tongue;
there is a spell in the enthusiastio flash of his eye,
when earnestly striving to convince ; there is a power
to win in the solemn interest which he exhibits, when

mmmtimfm

.Jta

122

TIIABOR AND QLIVKT.

uttering the secrets of Lis niind. And who shall
doubt but that when the prophets spoke of old, tho
inspiration which beamed upon their countenances, «i8
well as enlightened their minds, the spirit which
thrilled through their frames, as it filled their hearts,
the hand of the Lord which seemed to play a sweet
music through the very gesture of their bodies, as
truly as it came upon their souls, did give to their
sublime words an energy and a feeling, a life, and a
wonder-working might, which, written, they but feebly
retained ?

Who hath not often longed, with the eloquent
ChryfiOstom, that he could have beheld the apostle
Paul addressing his defence to Festus, or preaching
before the wise men of Athens? Who hath not
wished that his happiness it had been, to witness the
divine power of our Lord's appeals, when crushing
under His indignant eloquence the pride of the Phari-
sees, or when mildly unfolding to His apostles, in their
charming simplicity, the moral doctrines of His law 1
Nay, so natural does this superiority of the living tes-
timony to the written appeal*, even where no propor-
tion exists between the authors of the two, that the
rich glutton in hell, pondering on the experience of
his own impenitence, hesitates not to say, that his
hardened brethren will be sooner brought to faith and
repentance through the preaching of the ulcerous and
ragged Lazarus, returning from the dead, than through
the reading of Moses and the prophets. (Luke, xvi.
28.) How much surer then would he have felt of the
desired conviction, could he have carried his presump-
tion to such a pitch, as to hope, that Moses and the

TIIABOn AND OLIVKT.

123

fho shnll
F old, tho
nances, iw
•it which
ir hearts,
y a sweet
)odie8, as
I to their
ife, and a
but feebly

eloquent
le apostle
preaching

hath not
ituess the

crushing
the Phari-
}s, in their

His law ?
living tes-
10 propor-
>, that the
erience of
, that his
3 faith and
serous and.
m through
Luke, xvi.
felt of the
3 presump-
8 and the

prophets themselves, might be allowed to break their
cerements, and testify in person to his obdurate gen-
eration ?

And precisely such is the evidence here given of
our Saviour's dignity, authority, and character. When
addressing the Jews, He bad appealed to these very
witnesses as speaking through the ©igan of the writ-
ten word. But, alas ! they had ever read them with a
crooked mind, forestalled by preconceits concerning
the temporal glories of their Messiaa, and the worldly
conquests which He should adhieve. They misunder-
stood their evidence, and remained in unbelief.

But to the chosen few, it was given to know the
mysteries of God's kingdom in the full and clear
light of living evidence, and tohearthera speak whom
othei-s had only read= For here their most extrava-
gant desires were more than fulfilled ; their most un-
reasonable hope of proof must have bc>en incredibly
surpassed. Moses, whose face had shone so brightly
as to terrify his countrymen, now standing ovei-shone
and eclipsed, as the lamp before the mid-day sun, by
the presence of their divine Master, whose counten-
ance truly rivalled the source of earthly light I Elias,
who had ridden, of all men alone, upon the fiery
chariot of the Lord of Hosts, and whose cloak impart-
ed to him that inherited it, prophecy and miracles,
now receiving a light and splendor fron he dazzling
brightness of His garment ! These two, the greatest
men, without exception, whom the arm of God had
ever strengthened for the manifestation of His Al-
mighty power, now as humble attendants, ministers,
and servants honored and privileged by standing at

124

TMABOB A5D OLIVET.

His side, must Imve produced a briefer, deeper, and
more indelible conviction of His superiority, tlmn the
painful and repeated perusal of whatever prophecy
had written. They seem to say that the law and the tes-
timony are now sealed up, and all the mighty things
accomplished, which they had foretold and foresliown.
They stand as shadowy forms beside the reality m
Christ's presence, as faint, indistinct, and dusky images,
receiving Jight, and reflecting glory, from the bright-

ness of His truth.

But in the choice of witnesses thus called in the e
were personal considerations which greatly would add
to the interest of their testimony. Both of them had
been purified before God by a fast protracted through
fortv days, even like our blessed Saviour's, not long
before. Both had been admitted to a closer view ot
the Divine countenance than any other of the hunian
race In this manner did they approach nearer to His
perfection, and were far livelier types of his surpassing
excellence, than any others among the Fathers of the
Old Law. And that the figure might aflbrd still tulJer
measure of comfort to the disciples who witnessed it
they had in their generation, like Jesus, been lovers ot
their people, zealous for their fidelity to God, and un-
wearied in doing good. .
Such are the great and holy men who return to earth
to confer with their Master and Saviour, as though
deputed, by it and its inhabitants, to hold solemn
council with Him, touching their dearest interests.
And ah ! how truly does their discourse prove whose
representatives they are; and what little else than
pain any embassy from our fallen kind could bear

TIIABOB AND OLIVET.

125

Rper, and
tlmn the
prophecy
id the tes-
ty things
oreshown.
reality ia
cy images,
be bright-

1 in, there
Bvould add

them had
id through
I, not long
ler view of
the human
arer to His

surpassing
liers of the
1 still fuller
witnessed it,
en lovers of
od, and un-

iirn to earth
, as though
lold solemn
st interests,
prove whose
[e else than
could bear

Him ! No glad tidings do they bring of His chosen
])eofle'8 being repentant, and seeking reconciliation;
no promise or hope of His reception among them as
their King and Redeemer. No; they too had been
liberator of their people, and were familiar with its
rewaid : it is concerning his decease at Jerusalem, from
the hands of His people, that they come to treat!
Oh ! who can imagine the shame and sorrow that hang
on their countenances, struggling with their kindling
gratitude, admiration, and love, which a topic so dis-
graceful to their nation, yet so necessary to man, must
have excited in their bosoms I But think, on the
other hand, what a new idea of the grandeur of Christ's
redemption must have flashed upon the wondering
apostles' thoughts, on finding that subject, which was
their scandal and distress, chosen as the meetest theme
of conference, at this unusual and magnificent meeting.
How must the ignominy of the cross have, for a mo-
ment at least, been forgotten, on hearing it the subject
of praise and thanksgiving, chosen by such men, at the
very instant that Heaven itself seemed opened visibly
before them.

But then, let me ask, what was all this witnessing,
compared with that which the eternal gates burst
open to communicate? What was the testimony of
the past compared with that of this very moment ;
what were the asseverations of men, beside the proc-
lamation of the Most Highest : " This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased, hear ye Him" ? To
the two earthly witnesses that stood by, what a mar-
vellous contrast with other scenes must this simple
utterance have suggested! Moses had stood upon

■ ■hwii

126

TIIABOR AND OUVKT.

Sinai, when the law of fejir ww» delivered to the peo-
ple. It came forth from that mountain, as an infuiit
giant, swathed like the ocean in a stormy clond (Job,
xxxviii. 9), its first accents were in the thunder, the
first glance of its eye, was in the fliwhing of the winged
lightnings. The earth shook beneath its tread, and
the people hid themselves in terror before its mani-
festation. And yet, as 8t Paul assures us, only by the
ministration of angels was this law of fear given.
(Gal. iii. 19.) Elias, too, had stood on Horeb, when
the Ix>rd passed through the cavern ; and though He
came to comfort him in the whispering of a gentle
breeze, a mighty wind, an earthquake, and a raging
fire announced His approach. (8 Reg. xix.)

How characteristically are all things here changed,
on this mountain of the New Law, whereon its evi-
dences are uttered by the voice of God Himself. A
bright cloud overshadowed them ; to the husbandrjan
on the plain below, nothing new or strange appeare
over the mountain's top; he notices perhaps but a
brighter wreath upon its brow ; and fi-om this glad and
glorious, though mysterious canopy, issue the com-
forting and assuring words which proclaim Jesus to be
God's only Son, and settle our faith and .eclde its
objects, by reference to His infallible word. Here
then is Jesus constituted our great and everlasting
Law-giver, the author and finisher of our faith, our
model and our guide unto life eternal.

This union of evidence, this homage of earth through
its holiest of sainte, this proclamation of Heaven
through its Lord and God, forms, in sooth, the solemn
mystery which Chiist's glorious transfiguration was

LU».

THABOR AND OUVKT.

127

the poo
an infntit
oml (Job,
uiuler, the
he winged
tread, and
its mani-
nly by th«
ear given.
)reb, when
though He
»f a gentle
i a raging

)

B changed,

on its evi-

imself. A

iisbandrjan

ge appears

laps but a

tis glad and

6 the com-

Jesas to be

ieclde its

ord. Here

everlasting

' faith, our

rth through
of Heavea
, the solemn
iration was

inteiuled to set ftnth. To iw, it is a blessed and joy-
ful Hppctade, to contemplate) Him, for once, such as
to our affection it aeemeth that He ever should have
been, treated so a« became His divine nature, by God
and by men, elevated above the reach of enemies and
transgres80i*8, shrouded from the gaze of such as love
Him not, surrounded only by adoring disciples, es-
corted by His blessed saints, enshrined in His own
brightness, majesty, and loveliness, and crowned by
His Father, with the unfading eternal glory which
He possessed in Him from the beginning. 8uch is
Jesus, the Son of God, exhibited to us in His transfig-
uration upon Mount Thabor, and such will every
soul that loveth Him, think that He ever should be
seen.

But now turn we to another mountain, and see Him
whom we thus love, alas ! how transformed, in truth !
The brightness and glow of the overshadowing cloud
are exchanged for the bleak and dreary darkness of
night, within an olive garden's gloomy shades. The
same three disciples are near, but buried in a sluggish
weary sleep, from which no warning of danger, no
expostulation of love can rouse them to consciousness.
Instead of being elevated above the earth, surrounded
by a halo of glory, Jesus is sunk upon the ground,
unable to support His own weight ; His face, then so
splendid, is now pale, haggard, and bedewed with
tears ; and His garments hang upon Him clammy and
damp, through the blood that steals out at every pore.
The brightness of Heaven is fled from His soul ; the
calm prospect of future sufl'ering is exchanged for the
torture and anguish of present woe ; and an angel, one

128

TIIADOR AND OUVBT.

•oUary oouifortor of the count lew host whoso joy
Hp in, coin«-8 to support and encouiugfj Ilim lu the
work of lliH own U)ve 1

Can H« b« the »Hiue whom w»! have uohitely seen on
ThHl»or I Is this the well-he h)vi'a 8on of (ioil, whom
we are comnmnch^d to hem- i Has thine been any dim-
inution of love in His heavenly Father, or any change
in His own high dignity here below, that He should
now ain»ear so sadly altered from what erst Ho wan?
Most assuredly not; but He is now making good an-
other title, a title to our love, as before to our tattb;
He is proving Himself to be, even more than we aro,
the Son of Man. For it is not as engaged in the pain-
ful work of our redemption that 1 wish here to con-
sider Him, but as merely incorporating Himself the
m^M completely amongst us, by the participation ot

our sorrows.

When men of powerful minds have been thrown,
by accident or chance, into the society of hostile or
barbarous tribes, they have easily discovered, that^the
surest way to win their confidence, and secure their
friendship, is to show no abhorrence of their most re-
pulsive usages, but to adopt whatever practices are
among thera reckoned most peculiar to their race
They have quaffed with seeming delight their most
noisome beverage ; they have clothed themselves in
their most fantastic attire ; they have humored them
in their most capricious moods; and they have even
outdone them, in the apparent fervor with which they
have copied their habits, and adopted their senti-

ments. . . , , ,

It would seem as though, with nobler ends, our

THADOR AMD OLIVVT.

139

irhoso joy
iia iu the

jly seen on
i4m1, whniu
ti any dim*
,ny ebungo
He Hbould
t Ho WH»?
J good MX'

our t'ttitb;
lan we aro,
n the pttin-
M*e to cou*
liinself the
cipntion of

en thrown,
f hostile or
ed, that the
lecure their
iir most re*
ractices are

their race.

their moBt
lemselves in
[uored them
y have even

which they

their senti*

jr ends, our

hleHJted Redeemer had in like manner nought to cnptl-
vtitAi our love, and fistaVdish Hi« claim to brotherhood
amongst us. He entered on earth with the rights and
privileges which His Godhead bestowed on Him. He
poMOfwed thoughts, virtues, perfections, that belonged
to a higher sphere than we could ever aspire to.
Frailty was not Hi?! characteristic, death was not His
desert, sin was not His tyrant. There seemed to l)e a
hedge of separation between Him and us, which would
prevent all true feeling of fellowship and brotherhood,
and mingle ever too much awe and reverence with our
n«ntiments towards Him. When the angels appeared
to Abraham in human form, though he bad prepared
a most abundant banquet, yet would he not venture
into familiarity with them, and only stood by while
they did eat (Gen. xviii. 8), and thus would our hu-
manity have gladly welcomed, and hospitably enter-
tained, our divine Guest, who had condescended to
aasume our nature, but would only have presumed to
wait upon Him as a servitor or menial, gliid to do
homage, but fearftd to claim a closer tie.

But such cold and measured relations with us the
deep and ardent love of Jesus spurned ; and He re-
solved to give proof of His consanguinity with our
frail race, by bearing the heaviest burthens which can
be its lot, in their most unexampled aggravation. 8oi^
row and affliction are the portion of man, and He laid
them upon Himself, in this Garden of Olives, until
they crushed Him to the ground. In the sweat of
His brow was man, in the earliest curse, condemned
to till the earth ; and a sweat of blood was that
wherewith He watered it. Tribulation and anguish

THAROft AND OUTCT.

wen) the bitter ingmlienta of man's ctip; arnl He
UAae Hii chalice bitter, till Hi* own l»;art »ivk«-n«a
at iU content*, and prayed that it might pane away.
The wretchedeat of men may flml a nam« for hia
moat grievooa sorrow, but Hia alone could be termed
A living agony, the atrugglo of death in the midnt of
health and vital power. And did Ho not thua fully
caUbliah Uifl right to be the 8on of wretched, outcast
man? Yea, and if suffering be the true badge and
characteristic of our race, hath He not justly become
the very type of suffering humanity ; and if the name
of man in sacred speech doth signify " the afflicted," •
who shall deny his right to the name and its miserft-
ble privileges, who on that evening won the emphatic
title of the " Mau o.' sorrows " ?

And who will, after Jhis, venture to say, that in the
willing abasement of that hour, He forfeit<id one tittle
of that exceeding glory which he had assumed upon
Mount Thabor I Who will assert that He dimmed in
♦he least, the evidence of His greatness and His divin-
ity, by His momentary humiliation I For, rather, as
the* eclipse which for a time hides the sun's disc, and
withholds his I'ght, proves best the magnitude of his
orb, beyond all other heavenly bodies, and demon-
strates him to be the centre of the entire system, even
80 doth this partial, apparent obscuration only present
the sui-est proof of the sublime dignity and divinity of
our Redeemer. No. Did I wish to convince one
whose feelings are alive to the noble, the beautiful,
and the perfect, but whose belief in Him was weak, I
would by no means take Him to Mount Thabor where

• In Hebnw.

TnABom AND oLivrr.

131

pann awAy.
M fot* hit
bfl ti»rin«d
e midiit of
thua fully
ted, outcast
badge and
tly become
if the name
afflicted," •
it« miiera*
,e empbatio

that iu the
d one tittle
lumed upon
dimmed in
I Ilia diviu*
, rather, as
disc, and
tude of bis
ind demon-
ystem, even
uly present
I divinity of
>Dvince one
e beautiful,
was weak, I
labor where

the spectacle whs moant for friends; bat I w«)uM
tooQcr b'ad Him to the other scene of the Mount of
01iv«« The idea ttf one who is considered God-njan,
rcpr«'Hcntc<l as arrnycil in glory, is too analogous to nat-
ural apprehension, to have so convincing a force. Hut
the conception of such a Btiing presented to us, " l)ow*'<l
beneath sorrow till His pale foi-ehea<l chilled the earth,"
with a body bedewed with blood, an<l a soul steepe<l
in unutterable angui«h — the conception of such a One
honoring the inferior nature which links Him with
sorrow, by assuming its characteristics an fully as lie
ever bore those of the sublimer, embracing and cai eas-
ing the crudest realities of His manhood, with etiual
love and earnestness as He did the magnificent prerog-
atives of His Godhead :— surely this is a thought^ an
idea, which the Iwldest invention never could have
dreamt, and which none but one truly possessed of tlie
two could ever have practically realized.

Ko ; had the Redeemer of man been Himself l>ut
man, He would have been screened from every infirm-
ity of His nature. He would have required the invest-
ment of every outward attribute of pei-fection, even iii
appearance, to raise Him above the rest of men ; to
make Him seem worthy of His immense elevation, and
give Him a claim to the love, the obedience, and the
veneration of His fellow-raen. Only one, who was
truly God as well aa man, could aflford to sink beneath
the lowest level of homari wretchedness, and hope to
secure love and admiration by becoming, to appear-
ance, even less than man.

And if our very faith may thus be strengthened by
visiting Olivet even after Thabor, whaL shall we say

132

TIIABOB AND OLIVET.

of love, wliose very home and harbor is in comruunity
of suffering ? Who hath even linked his heart to the
stoics, cased in a mail of false philosophy proof agmnst
the griefs of humanity 1 Who hath not, like Jonathan,
loved one that with David, beai-s unmerited persecu-
tiou with meek endeavorance ? And who then will
not love Jesus in the garden, even more than on the
holy mount? I speak not now, as I have already
forewarned you, of the endearing circumstances that
all His suffering was for our redemption. But only
consider Him as one of ourselves, rendering beaut.tul
and dignified that which ordinarily degrades man;
embracUig, as a part of His being that which all miis
suffer, though not so severely as He ; and then in His
• higher character consecrating, and canonising in Hi.
own person the most disesteemed portion of our human
lot. For in-^ssimilating Himself thus completely to
us, and involving Himself in all that beats down the
heart of man, He wished to give proof of tho holiness
of mind which may sanctify the strongest bursts of
uncontrollable anguish. Fortitude had been ever a
virtue among heathens; contempt of sufferings had
been a boast among savages: both of them b unted
the edge of the infliction ; the former strained the sin-
ews, the latter hardened them, into resistance.

Resignation was taught by Christianity alone ; tho
virtue which bears the entire weight of calamity, bows
down without opposition beneath its force, feels to
the utmost the pain it inflicts, and then rises to praise
God for what He hath permitted, and trusts more
than ever in His love. And of this holy feeling, he
pm'est and perfectest example was here given, m the

THABOB AND OUVET.

18B

omniunity
;art to the
)of agftinst
Jonathan,
d persecu-

hen will
mn on the
ve already
lances that

But only
5 beautiful
•ades man;
ch all must
then in Ilis
jing in His
Pour human
mpletely to
a down the
tho holiness
st bursts of
been ever a
fferings had
lem blunted
ined the siu-
ince.

f alone ; tho
lamity, bows
rce, feels to
ses to praise
trusts more
f feeling, the
given, in the

cruel agony endured without mitigation, and without
repining; and that too as a foretaste only of more
grievous suffering. Can we for a moment doul>t, that
Jesus in this His second presentation to His chosen
apostles wished thus to appear, not merely as assert-
ing a claim to brotherhood with us, but as mdicating
the dignity of suffering, considered as that badge of
humanity whereby He principally claims our love?

For is it not spoken .of in the sacred volume, as
though all that intensity of woe were but a state
proper and belonging to Him, while the glory of His
first appearance is described as unusual and unnatural?
Would He, whose countenance giveth intelligence to
the angels, and splendor to Heaven, have otherwise
been said to be transfigured, when it shone forth
merely as the sun ; and not rather be deemed then
transfigured, when defaced and defiled, bruised and
smitten ? Would He, whose body was untouched by
sinfulness, whose mind, when busied amidst a wicked
world, was purer than the chastest virgin's holiest
meditations, have been said to undergo a transforma-
tion, when the raiment that covered Him, caught the
color of His purity, and looked white only as the
snow ; and was He not to be called transformed, when
His robes were red with His own blood, as though
He came from Edom, having dyed His garments in
Bozra? (Is. Ixiii. 1.) Would that have been called
a transfiguration of the Lord of glory, where the saints
surround Him, to pay their court, and the heavens
tell of His glory; and not rather then, when stripped
of all marks of dignity, cast off and abandoned at once
by earth and Heaven?

134

THABOR AND OLIVET.

No ; in all this He wished us to consider Him as in
His own chosen state. He cared not to extort our
admiration, by a display of His surpassing majesty ;
He spoke of it as of a momentary extraordinary
glimpse, a change which, for momentous reasons. He
allowed to remove Him from our society; but He
strove to win our love, by tasting more earnestly of
the fruits of humanity even than we, by joining us in
the most trying allotments of God's dispensation, and
proving to us the dignity of our nature, by not dis-
daining t assume its most humble and most abject

forms.

But shall the more endearing lessons of thl'i second
transfiguration destroy the recollection of tb-s first?
God forbid ; but let the one ever be by the other tem-
pered. The princes of earth have their winter and their
summer residences, that pleasure may be enhanced by
variety, and each season have its fitting dwelling-
place. And so be it ever with the Christian who lov-
eth Jesus. Let him have in Thabor and Olivet a two-
fold retreat, suitable to its various states. When his
faith is cold, or his thoughts begin to grovel and creep
on earth ; when Heaven seems too distant, and its ac-
quisition too painful; when dejection and pusillani-
mity assail him, let him ascend the mountain of glory,
and basking in its splendore, and hearkening to its evi-
dences, and gazing on its enticements, there refresh and
strengthen his mind and his belief.

But in the softer and the milder hour, when love
reproaches you in your silent breast, that it is neglect-
ed ; when teara of penitent sorrow begin to gush from
the eyes : when the world and its afflictions lie wearily

iiW

THAfiOK AND OLIVBT.

185

Him as in
jxtort our
r majesty;
raovdinary
easons, He
; but He
arnestly of
ining us in
satioD, and
by not dia-
tost abject

;hl't second
' tb^ first?
I other tem-
5r and their
ihanced by
r dwelling-
in wholov-
livet a two-
When his
si and creep
and its ao-
i pusillani-
in of glory,
jg to its evi-
refresh and

upon the heart; when your soul feels sorrowful even
uuto death, oh I repair to the Mount of Olives, the
hill of unction and of rich abundance, there to weep
and to pray, to sympathize and be comforted.

Upon both these sacred mountains it is good for us
to be. Let us make upon each a tabernacle, wherein
we may in spiiit dwell ; and then we may with well-
grounded hope expect, that the third, not made with
hands, our lasting dwelling, shall be prepared for us
on the holy mount : that Sion which is in Heaven, on
which is the city of the living God, the true Jerusa-
lem, where we shall meet not one solitary angel of
comfort, but " the company of many thousands," of
those raessengei-8 of salvation ; not a few saints of
either covenant, but the array of the " spirits of the
just made perfect," with Jesus above all, and amidst
all, the Mediator, and the Head of " the Church of
the fii-st-boi-n," with that humanity which was by turns
glorified and abased on earth, now permanently shin-
ing with the splendor of Thabor, yet retaining "the
sprinkling of blood," which purified and fertilized the
earth on Olivet. (Heb. xii. 22.)

, when love
t is neglect-
> gush from
» lie wearily

•4MM

» -' ^

SERMON VII.
m (ffomlttfl to ^mn tot ^tfmUmtnt

Matt, sL 28.

•• Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will nflreah

you."

Had the blessed Josus proclaimed, Como unto me
all ye that are poor, and I will enrich you, or all ye
that are oppressed, and I will redress you, or all ye
that are sore and sick, and I will heal you ; and had
He appo ited certain visible treasure-houses or dis-
pensaries, where these blessings might be dealt out to
such as sought them, I believe, my brethren, that He
would at no time have wanted a crowd of eager and
zealous follower, and that long trains of pilgrims
would be daily seen starting to give proof to the
heavenly promise, by seeking therein the remedy of
their evils. And yet in any such hope, had He pro-
posed it, there would have been but scanty measure
of relief for the ills which oppress us ; nor could He
have well attempted to number each of these, how-
ever large His discourse, with a provision of suitable
remedy, without leaving some sore place in man's
estate without its balm, and some uneasiness of his
nature without its consolation. But in the gracious
speech quoted. He hath comprehended in two words
all the evils and distresses which can vex or afflict us

ON COJriNO TO JESUS FOB nEFREailMETTT.

137

ntttt.

id I wUl refredi

no unto me
ou, or all yo
>u, or all ye
)u ; and had
)use8 or dia-
dealt out to
•en, that He
if eager and
of pilgrims
jroof to the
16 remedy of
had He pro-
mty measure
lor could He
' these, how-
1 of suitable
)ce in man's
siness of his
the gracious
n two words
K or afflict us

(for all are a hihor and a burden), and in anotliei-, '-i
tli.it short sweet invitation, come, which the last page
(if the inspired volume puts into the mouth of the
hride and of the spirit (Apoc. xxii. 17), He hath con-
(ItMwed all the wisdom of consoling aphorisms, and all
the treasures of spiritual pharmacy, together with
many heavenly philtres and charms of a most marvel-
lous operation. And note, I. pray you, how much
more comprehensive and effectual is the simple and
general prescription. For as to its comprehensiveness
it thus comes to n^ach to the heart, to the mind, and
to the soul, embracing all the thousand indefinable
ailments and sicknesses of each, though offtring one
only universal cure : which, without danger of error
or -excess, acts upon eadi according to its own peculiar
need, and bestows everywhere comfort, relief, and in-
creased strength. Then as to the virtue and efficacy
of this <Vivine promise, if you feel inclined to doubt
thereof, I know not what I can say other than did
Philip to Nathaniel, upon his misdoubting the praises
uttered of our Saviour upon His being fii'st discovered:
whereupon Philip was contented to answer, "Come
and see." (John, i. 46.) And so do I say to you,
come ye all and see, and make proof thereof, bringing
your respective burthens and labore to His feet, and
cast them down before Him, and He will bless them :
and ye shall take them up again, and find them no
longer heavy or distasteful, for they will by that bless-
ing have been changed into His burthen, which is
light ; and into His yoke, which is most sweet.

It is my wish to aid you in this experiment, by
pointing out the way wherein each one may best come

188 OK COMINO TO JK8UB TOR REKRhailMENT.

unto Jenna, according to the ')ecuHar relief whicb he
,?n'aireH at His Lund, showing the fittest season, as
■ were, and attitude wherein he should approach
Him, how he should oramune with Him regarding
his distress, and how be may expect to receive His
blessed assistance.

And first, I would address those on whom the va-
rious ills of life do seem to weigh with undeserved
rigor, those who imagine that God hath dealt hardly
with them, because they are but scantily supplied with
earthly goods, or because their life is a continual suf-
fering from accident* or illness, or because unjust cal-
umnies and bitter injuries keep them in constant dis-
turbance, or because the world has refused to do jus-
tice to their merits, but has rejected and ill treated
them, though its signal benefactoi-s. Or, I will sup-
pose, all these various evils, each sufficient to embitter
one particular life, united in the same person ; and he
will undoubtedly consider himself as arrived at the
uttermost point of human wretchedness. Now, wish-
ing to lead this sufferer to Jesus, for refreshment, such
is the ovei-flowing richness of consolation in Him, and
80 mean is all that we have rehearsed in the scale of
true unbappiness, that I would not take him higher to
drink than the first gushing forth of this well-spring
of true comfort, reserving the fulness of its watf a for
more grievous sorrows. I would bid him approach
his infant Saviour, and ask for consolation at the crib
of Bethlehem. There he shall see all those evils
whereof be, in the power of manhood, complains,
combined in ten-fold strength, to afflict a tender child ;
and what he considered the winding up, and final con-

[ENT.

ef whicb he
t season, as
d opproftch
n regarding
receive Ilia

lom the va«
undeserved
Jealt hardly
applied with
ontinual suf-
3 unjust cal-
constant dis-
d to do jus-
i ill treated
•, I will sup-
t to embitter
•son ; and he
rived at the
Now, wish-
shment, such
in Him, and
a the scale of
lim higher to
s well-spring
its watf a for
im approach
n at the crib
11 those evils
1, complains,
tender child ;
and final con-

Oir COMINO TO JESUS FOU REFRESIIMKIfT.

130

summation of accumulating misfortunes, here chosen
as but the prologue to a bitter, and touching mystery of
love. There will he see a royal babe exposed so soon
as born, to the biting frost of a cruel winter, without
the comfort of a decent roof, or sufficient cloth! .g to
protect it; seeing and touching around it, on that
fii-st night of life, and suffering, nothing but the plain-
est tokens of rudest poverty ; then undergoing, with
full consciousness, the degradation of a painful rite,
and scarcely recovered, sought after by a prince who
would give the diadem from his brows, to him that
should slay it. Then He is forced to fly with but
sorry attendance, through a long winter journey, into
a foreign land, the banished and proscribed, poorer,
even, and more abject than He would have been in
His own cottage at Nazai-eth ; and thus, within a few
days of His birth, does He bear all the burden of
temporal evils, which the most wicked, or the most
pei*8ecuted of men, could well incur in the course of a
very long life. And surely, if -the power of sympa.
thy is so gi'eat in relieving sorrow, if we bear with
greater cheerfulness when we see others, equally wor-
thy, sharing the same load, what consolation must we
not derive from seeing who is here the companion of
our misfortunes, of our poverty, the King of kings ;
of our persecution, thii Holy One ; of our rejection,
the anointed of God ; of our pain and sorrow, the in-
nocent Lamb, the world's infant Saviour.

Then too you may go nearer and reflect. You suf-
fer by a dispensation over which you have no control,
and to which you must perforce submit. But this
tender sufferer, wherefore doth He endure so much,

140 ON coMixo TO jraim fou refhi'^iimknt.

speing thftt Ho w the Tjord of all things, anil the
author of every blfHHing? Why ilot« lie not give
the word to the Hhepheids that cnine t« worship, and
they will proclaim Him to the world ; and jjresently
He shall eee the whole coxintry aroused and bringing
forth itH best gifts, and His crib 9urn)unded with no-
bles, and warriors, and priests, and tetrarchs, "and all
the people of the land," who shall be proud to carry
Him on thtir shoulders, unto the city and palace of
David, even as they did the infant Joas, merely be-
cause He was to be His forefather, and bear Him
through the gate thereof, and place Him on the throne
of the kings ? (4 Kings, xi. 19.) Why doth not the
angel, in warning the wise men against visiting Herod
on their return, tell them that he sought the infant's
life, and give it into their charge ; and presently they
will wrap Him up in costly fui-s, and place Him in a
jewelled cradle, and bear Him away on their camels
as a priceless treasure into their own country, where
He shall be tended and cared for as befits so great and
mighty a Lord ? Or why doth He not ask of His
Father a legion of those angels who have come to sing
"glory" above His birth-place; and they shall be
flattered by the charge to bear Him up in their hands
and defend Him against all the powere of earth, and
minister unto His wants, as they did afterwards in the
wilderness ?

Dost thou who sufferest ask thus ? Does not thine
own heart tell thee that it was in order that He might
be like to thee, and thou like unto Him i that He
might show thee how wretchedness and pain are more
akin, and, as it were, foster-brethren to Him, sucking

I Km".

igH, and the
Ih not give
k-orsbip, and
id presently
nd bringing
ed with no
.'hn, *^ and all
>ud to carry
id palace of

merely be-
i bear Him
)n the throne
doth not the
siting Herod

the infant'e
esently they
se Him in a
their camels
untry, where
I BO great and

ask of His
come to sing
iey shall be
3 their hands
>f earth, and
rwards in the

)e9 not thine
lat He might
mi that He
tain are more
Elim, sucking

ON COMING TO jfcBCS TOR nEFRBSiniENT.

the breasts of His own mother, rather than riches and
happiness? And art thou not more than consoled,
yea, filled with joy and delight, to think that thou,
whom others (lespinc, art, therefore, the dearer to Him,
and closer to His heart, and mayest presume the more
upon His kindness; that the gifts thou presentest
Him are a thousand times more precious and accepta-
ble in His sight, than the offerings of those eastern
kings ; that thy prayer is, according to His own word,
truly as frankincense which pierceth the clouds, and
departs not till the Most Highest shall behold ; that
thy patient endurance is a myrrh, bitter, indeed, ia
the mouth of him that tasteth it, yet suffusing a pre-
cious savor, like the Magdalen's spikenard, before
Him whose feet thou wipest in humble resignation ;
that thine own heart, thine own self, is as burnished
gold, proved and annealed for Him in the furnace of
tribulation 1 And thus will you not wonder why His
blessed mother, poor and persecuted, like Himself and
you, should be said to have laid up all these words in
her heart, as holy stores of joy and comfort for all
sorrow and misfortune. And thus early doth Jesus
begin to afford refreshment.

But beyond this fii-st class of worldly wretchedness
rises another still more difficult to b*^ar, and requiring
a riper grace,^ — the sufferings of the spirit. Some
there may be, though probably they are few, who
have to deplore the early ruin and destrnction of all
religious principle or feeling within them, and after
having yielded to the wiles of some temptei-, find
themselves now to have been driven from a paradise
of happiness and peace, to which all return seems in-

•Ato

t4f ON COMINO T«> JX»V» I'OR KKrRI':MII.M>:NT.

•■ombly dehanrd. Th««r« can hunlly be concolved A
cl<»flp«T wretchednPM than the coti«<Mon«n<'f»« and err.-
viction of trtith, without the pt)W«r to t'luhrnoe it, thnn
this ftwerish longing after a blessing, once within our
rrach, b^t now withheld for our ill dtiawrH. No on«
can describe the pangs of reinor^, the racks and hooks
of jealousy and envy towards others, the perpetual
scourge of self-reproach, which such a per«on must en-
dure; and truly it is a burden beyond all the out-
ward evila of this world.

But besides this grievous burden of interior tribo*
lation, there is a labor which causes much uneasiness
and pain, when the mind has not been wholly shaken
from the foundation of its early religious conviction,
but finds itself unsteady and wavering on them ; when,
like the covering cherub, it hath not been cast down
from God's holy mount, but walketh up and down
thereon among the stones of fire (Ezec. xxviii.), uncer-
tain which to choose for its badge and signet And
in this age, when a keen and restless spirit of inquiry
has descended among the children of men, and in this
country where every year, every month, every day
detects some new fallacy whereby they or their fore-
fathers have been misled into hasty and unjust opin-
ions on the 8ul)ject of religion, the number of those
cannot be small, who, either by their attention to pass-
ing events, or by the force of their own reflections, or
by the clearer and bolder announcement of doctrines
which, for three cepturies, have been only whispered
in the ear, have been led to entertain some doubts
touching much which they have been taught, or at
least some fear or surmise sufficient to break or flaw

•Ak

= =^ .:^ir,^;*^s^. ^^aaaJ^ifea^-^^gi^a^^^

CJTT.

onco!ve<! ft
« and <"*n-
(loe it, t linn
within our
I. No on«

I and hookH

perpetual
m must en-

II the out>

erior tribn*

uneoaineM

}lly nhaken

conviction,

lem; when,

cast down

and down

riii.), unce^

jnet And

of inquiry

and in this

every day

their fore-

injust opin-

er of thoM

ion to pasa-

flections, or

>f doctrines

' whispered

>me doabts

ught, or at

fak or flaw

OK eOMINU TO JKMt'H roll I(KKRK>IIMKNT.

14.T

tlio illusion of previous security, and in<»culnt« its con-
Btituti«)n with a principhi of restlessnes*, which munt
Ruoner or later l)reftk out into activity. Nor, if once a
solemn dooht of what till now has been held as certain,
presents itself before you, so long as you admit not a
controlling or deciding power with authority at once
to quell it, can you calm the mind or lull it to peace,
l)y aiTesting or checking its onward course. Nor
would it, indeed, be just or generous in any one, who
begins to find error mingled with his early prepos-
setwions to arrest the eagerness for further inquiry,
which such a diflcovery must awaken. Every mistaken
opinion reflecting on the princ'nles or practice of oth-
ers, is an injustice to them however involuntary ; and
to be alarmed at finding early prejudices shaken, or
believed representations proved erroneous, and to turn
the mind from prosecuting investigation from fear of
its being further undeceived, is as unjust as to suspend
the examination of our accounts with others, for fear
of discovering further errors in our reckonings, that
might oblige us to reparation.

But for either of these troubles of the mind and
spirit there b refitishment in Jesus. Come unto Him
when, now entered upon His heavenly mission, He
teaches the multitudes, or opens to His apostles the
mysteries of faith. And how are ye to come fo Him ?
By deep and earnest study of His holy word, wherain
as it were His whole image \a reflected, read in humil-
ity, docility, and disinterested readiness to obey His
calls, rendered frnitful by fervent and persevering
prayer; by listening to His word, as expounded to
you by His miniatem, gladly receiving such lights as

U4 OM OOMINO TO JWVA FOB RRfRrMlMKNT.

mftv wrve to Ruidc you towards tho .ettlinj; of yonr
doubts, «enoi»ly wHRhing nm\x evidence im may he
laid Mor^ you in candor and charity, however opjK«ed
tu your former opinion., thuikfully accepting m.ch ex-
planations and repi'-aentii '.ions ni may correct the pre-
Hm.e.i.lons instilled by ignorftPt or mistaken teachers.
For th.is wo learn, that even m His lifetime they who
wished to come unto Jesus with advantage were not
content to stand aloof, f.>llowing Ilim in the crowd,
nor yet ventured to approach directly, and of them-
s^dves, before Him, but rather " came unto Phihp who
was of Bethsaida of Galilee, and desired him, saying:
Sir, we would see Jesus. (Jo. xii. 21.) And thus,
likewise, will the ministry of His servants, however
unworthy, often procure a speedier and happier ao-
nuaintance with Him, and readier access to the peace
and refreshment of his knowledge, than your own direct
and unaided efforts.

And from Hi. holy word we may easily learn the
dispositions and feelings wherewith you should come

''"Corae'^ot as did the Sadducees, determined to doubt
and to dispute everything, even to the first foundo-
tions whereon faith may be built ; nor as the Herodi-
ans, putting to the test of captious and irrelevant con-
sequences, and of political considerations, the pure
dogmas of religion. (Matt, xxu.) ,

Come not, as did the Pharisees, to catch Him m His
words (Mar. xii. 18), by merely. laying hold of expres-
Bions rather than things, and taking offence and scan-
dal at words, without attending to the spirit which
direct* them, and the meaningHhey inclose.

lENT.

lin;^ of yonr
M may be
sver opposed
,inpf nuoh «'X-
n^ct th« pre*
t«n t«acheri.
ne th<^y who
igo, were not
u the crowd,
md of them-

Philip who
him, saying:

And thui,
ntB, however

1 happier ao-
to the peace

>ur own direct

sily learn the
should come

lined to donbt
first foondiu
.8 the Herodi*
rrelevant con-
ons, the pure

:h Him in His
lold of express
csnco and scan-

OW COMINO TO JBIU8 FOR RKFRFilllMimT.

145

e spirit which

Come not, a« did the doctor of the law, and umny
others, tempting Him. (Matt, xxji 55.) Hy which
expr«'«»ion two different thing* «re meant in Holy
Writ. Fifit, deman«ling of (lod some d»'ftnit« and
sp«'cific line of evidence, or laying down some aif'
willed terras of conviction, opon which alone we \'V\
yield to what is proposed to us as His truth ; in whicn
sense Aclmz said, " I will not ask (a sign), and I will
not tempt the Lord" (Is. viii. 12), nnd Judith r»v
proaohed the rulera of Bethulla, saying, " Who .re ye
that this day have tempted the Lonl" (Jud. viii. 12),
by fixing a doy for His deliverance I iind Ht. Luke
tells of some who " tempting Jesus, usked of Ifim a
sign from heaven." (Luc. xi. 16.) And again, y)y the
same plirase is signified the constant recurrence and
repetition of the same difficulties and dissatisfaction,
the returning to them once answered and removed : in
which sense the Jewti are said repeatedly in Scripture
to have tempted or provoked God, or rather His
Word in the wilderness, by ever murmuring anew,
and refusing to be content with what He had done
for their satisfaction, rejecting ever tire proofs of di-
vine mission given to His servant Moses. And in
either of these ways, beware ye tempt not Jesus.

Come not as did the young man, eagerly asking
what he should do to be saved, and upon finding tiiat
the terms of salvation touched him in bis worldly
good?, and must bring with it their loss, went away
again sorrowful.

. Come not, in flue, as did the Jewish multitude, fol-
lowing Him even into the wilderness to hear His
word, and then when Kia doctrines shocked their pre-
10

146 ON COMING TO JE8U8 FOR REFRESHMENT.

judicea, and attacked theiv national religion, took up
stones to insult and injure Him ; nor like those disci-
ples who first eagerly cleaved unto Him, and followed
Him over all the land ; but as soon as they heard a
proposition which wounded reason's pride, exclaimed,
"This is a hard saying, who can hear it, and went
back and walked no more with Him." (Jo. vi.

61-6Y.)

But rather come unto Him as did the father of him
possessed, " crying out with tears : I do believe ; Lord,
help thou my unbelief." (Mar. ix. 23.)

Come like Nicodemus, who, not content with the
general instruction he might receive by stand" ug in
the Temple's porch, or attending Jesus in the crowd,
sought to have private speech of Him, to propose his
own particular doubts, and consult in the silence of
night the interests of his own salvation, receiving with
meekness the severe reproof given him for his ill-timed
objection, and becoming one of those few steadfast
followers, who feared not to own Him as a master im-
mediately after the ignominy of His cross.

Come to Him as Peter and the eleven, who, after
they had heard, on His sufficient authority, doctrines
incomprehensible to their reason, and repugnant to
their senses, surrendered their belief into His hands
without reserve, exclaiming: "Unto whom shall we
go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life." (Jo. vi.)

Come to Him like Mary Magdalen, leaving to Mar-
tha, or those of your household, the cares and anxiety
of domestic and worldly concerns, and heedless of
their reproof, cast yourself at His feet, sit there in
lowly and respectful attitude, in teachable and hum.

M-JMfc..^--, iiXmmtVimiimmmaiikiM -^iril^Mii

MENT.

;ion, took up
i those disci-
and followed
they heard a
e, exclaimed,
it, and went
I." (Jo. vi.

•ather of him
jlieve; Lord,

ent with the
r stand* Jg in
n the crowd,
> propose his
he silence of
eceiving with
r his ill-timed
few steadfast
) a master im-

19.

Bn, who, after
'ity, doctrines
repugnant to
ito His hands
hom shall we
;." (Jo. vi.)
saving to Mar-
ts and anxiety
d heedless of
t, sit there in
ble and hum-

ON COMING TO JF,SU8 FOR REFRESHMENT. 147

Me mood, looking upwards into a countenance whose
calm majesty stamps truth on all He teaches, and
whose winning smile can engage any one to embrace
and practise it.

Or rather aim at still nobler feelings ; and if the
solemn rite which I have interrupted form, as it gen-
erally does, the great stumbling-block of your un-
settled faith, come with John the beloved unto Him,
when instituting the mysteries of unspeakable and
unimaginable charity at His last supper, and lean in
childlike love and abandonment upon the bosom that
conceives it. Hear well its throbs and gighs after
your redemption, the throes and pangs of this your
birth-hour unto life ; take well the measurements of
this deep and full cistern of mercy and graciousness,
that " ye may be able to comprehend, with all the
saints, what is the breadth, and length, and height,
and depth of the charity of Christ, which surpasseth
all knowledge" (Eph. iii. 18) ; consider the majesty ot
divine almightiness, the ineffable energies of creative
wisdom, and the boundless eflEicacy of redeeming lovt
which dwelt therein together as in a holy temple, now
joined in solemn counsel how to leave some last God
like legacy to man worthy of them all; feel that
bosom, as you repose thereon, swelling and heaving
with this great and majestical birth, this crowning
work of love ; and then assuredly will your doubts
change into confidence, your hesitations into -assur-
ance, your perplexity into peace, and nothing will ap-
pear too bold, too mighty, too divine, for such love to
have given cl u^uch aii hour, or for such a soul like
yours to believe in such an attitude. There, there at

S,««IMJl!k-PI«W9l«W*'^^

' il W l l fci i .

148 OK COMING TO JMUa FOR REFRESllMEirr.

lenjrth in that belief, you will have opened the fall
fountains of life; there you may slake your burning
thirst, and feel in Jesos refreshment after the weari-
ness of anxious doubt.

Yet is there a heavier vireight, and a more grievous
labor, than any of these,-one to which we all are
•subject, and under which we all mus g.;oan,-the
weight of sin, as the apostle justly calls »t. (Heb
xiii ^ Under this we all walk from our childhood
bowed down to the ground, and 'ith our own hand*
we have added burden unto burden, heaping it up,
until its load almost prevents us from looking up
into the face of Heaven. And who amongst us hath
not experienced the sorrows and miseries of this sad
state 1 Who hath not felt the anguish and tortu-e of a
rejection by God, and the loss of His holy favor, an^
withal, the ignominy, the helplessness the entity
wretchedness which it must produce withm the soull
And it hath seemed some time to us as if a gulf vyas
placed between us and His mercy, between our spirit
and His,-a wide, deep, impassable gap in our atta^^h-
ments ind habits, in our affections and adopted
nature, which no power could enable us to surpass;
and we were thus tempted to colisider our case aa
hopeless, and our sore as incurable. And yet, my
brethren, it was not so. It is such as are in this most
miserable state that Jesus principally had in view
whence promised refreshment to the troubled and
oppressed. Draw nigh, come unto Him, ^1 ye that
labor with sin, and are heavy laden with iniquity
and He will refresh you. Come to Him at that
hour, when, His teaching finished. He is made a sacri-

•JSltmi

ENT.

ed the foil
nr barning
r the weari-

)re grievous
we all are
groan, — the
I it. (Heb.
r childhood
r own hands
aping it up,
looking up
igst us hath
B of this sad
I tortu^-e of a
y favor, and,
(, the entii-e
\\\n the soul 1
if a gulf was
een our spirit
in our attach*
and adopted
18 to surpass ;
' our case as
And yet, my
e in this most
had in view,
troubled and
n, all ye that
with iniquity,
Him at that
9 made a sacri-

ON COMING TO JB8U8 FOR REFRBSHMENT. 149

flee for sin, and has laid upon Him by God the ini-
quities of us all.

Have you already felt within you the sorrows of a
loving repentance ; have you already been at His feet,
and washed them with many teai-s, and poured out on
them the precious ointment of holy love ? Have you
heard, through the voice of His minister, the consoling
words, that much hath been forgiven you, and do you
feel within you the blessed assurance, founded upon
His first promises, that you are a forgiven sinner,
though one feeling that much remains undone, to per-
fect the great work of salvation ? Come boldly for-
ward ; your place is in His chosen train, and near His
cross, with her whom you have imitated, with the
centurion, and those who struck their breasts in com-
punction at His death, and nearer still with the disci-
ple of love and the Virgin-mother. There, under the
shadow of that tree, and of your beloved that hangs
thereon, in calm and feeling meditation on the graces
purchased for you, and the charity displayed, you shall
find sufficient strength in your weakness, to ripen your
converaion into perseverance, and to inflame your luke-
warmness into burning love.

But alas I does thy conscience still' reproach thee
that thou art unforgiven, and does thy courage fail
thee to undertake the awful work of repentance 1 Art
still staggering under the weight of the flesh and its
lusts, and sinking under their load, as under that of a
most heavy cross ? Art thou not thus, as yet, like one
of the evil-doera with whom Jesus was reckoned?
Away then with thee unto Calvary, and beai- thither
this burden of thy sins, and be crucified to them be-

160 ON COMINO TO JESUS FOR REFnESIIMENT.

side Him. Stretch forth thine ftrms in earnest snppli-
cation, and let thy love nail thee to the cross. There
transfer to thyself, for a moment at least, in mind, the
pangs and tortures which He endured for thy salva-
tion ; count the wounds and bruises which should have
been thine, for they were inflicted for thee; feel if
thou canst the overflowing bitterness of sorrow and
hatred towards sin which filled His breast, the aban-
donment by God, the forlorn desolation of soul, the
universal unhappinesa which overclouds Him, and
there, hanging as it were at His side, read the hand-
writing which was against thee nailed upon His cross,
read His title of thy Kedeemer inscribed above His
head, read the decree of thy forgiveness traced by His
bloody diadem upon His brow, engraven by the sol-
dier's lance upon His heart, and see if thou canst
longer doubt that there is pardon even for thee, if
with the penitent thief thou wilt cry out to Him in
that hour, making confession and acknowledging thy
guilt, even according to His appointed ordinances, and
casting thyself with unbounded confidence upon His
mercy, sole fountain of reconciliation and forgiveness.
And amen, I say unto thee, in what day thou shalt
thus come unto Jesus, thou too shalt be with Him in
an inward paradise of peace and refreshment.

And ye, few indeed, and chosen, who have long
since found in Jesus relief from all the world's trou-
bles ; whose minds, settled and at peace in Him, know-
not the anjdeties and perplexities of religious doubts ;
who trust in Him, that the load of your sins has been
taken off, and that your course of virtue is regular and
steady, is there for you no further refreshment ia

JL^

ENT.

nest snppli-
)89. There
1 mind, the
' thy salva-
ihoold have
lee; feel if
Borrow and
;, the aban-
[)f soul, the
Him, and
d the hand-
1 His cross,
above His
iced by His
by the sol-
thou canst
for thee, if
to Him in
ledging thy
inances,and
e upon His
forgiveness.
' thoa shalt
rith Him ia
}nt.

) have long
rorld's trou-
1 Him, knovir
ions doubts ;
ins has beea
regalar and
reshment in

ON COMING TO JESUS FOR UKFUESIIMENT.

151

Jesns ? Oh, surely, there is ; for the tear is not yet
wiped from your eye. Ye, too, have yet your burden
to bear ; the flesh is a load upon your spirit, which
clogs its flight towards God, and makes you long that
it be dissolved. You, likewise, then, must come to
Jesus for your refreshment, but to Jesus, now no lon-
ger pei-secuted end suffering, but risen from the dead
and in glory, sitting at the right hand of His Father,
Thither you most already ascend in spirit, and there
dwell ; thither must your sighs and longings daily
1188 ; thitherward must your looks be turned, as the
captive prophets' were to the earthly Jerusalem. In
the contemplation of that glory, now enjoyed by your
beloved, ye may well forget the teasing claims of sel-
fish interests ; in the view of that calm ocean-like
blessedness wherein His just are lost, ye may drown
the impertinent tumults of all worldly uneasiness ; in
the sight of that tenantless over-hanging crown, which
your humble hope tells you may be reserved for you,
ye may, indeed, feed unto fullness the richest, and
j)urest, and holiest energies of your souls. And when
the end shall come, then lift up your heads, for your
salvation is at hand. Not for you is the last hour one
of clamor to rouse the sleeping virgins, nor of despair
to find your lamps untrimmed. It is, as Job describes
it, the wished-for evening of the laborer's day, the re-
membrance of toil and travail finished, the casting on
the ground of load and incumbrance, and the imme-
diate prospect of rest and home. Not for you will the
invitation of Jesus then sound as one of excitement to
the laggard, or of encouragement to the faint-hearted,
or of animation to the desponding, or of promise to

152 ON COMING TO JKSUB FOR REFRESHMENT.

the diligent ; it must he as a watchword between Ilim
and you on the confines of your two worlds, a signal
repeated from one to the other, at that last stra.t pass
into His kingdom, well understood and welcome unto
both. "For tiie spirit and the bride say, come : and
he that hearetb, let him say, come." Then will He
once more say, " Surely, I come quickly," and ye sball
reply even as' the gate is unbarred before you, Amen,
come. Lord Jesus, come." Then, at length " your Joy
shall be complete, and your joy no man shall take
from you." (Apoc. x.vii.) ,

Let us then all, the afflicted and the perplexed, the
sinner and the righteous, "come and taste how sweet
is the Lord, and how blessed is the man that hopeth
in Him." (Ps. xxxiii. 9.) When on earth He allowed
publicans and sinners to approach Him so familiarly
as to bring censure on Himself; once, when little
children would have drawn nigh unto Him, and His
disciples would have withheld them, He rebuked
them for it; when the Pharisee was shocked at His
allowing Himself to be approached and touched by a
woman notoriously infamous in the city, He com-
inended.her boldness, and received her into special fa-
vor. Thus did He show that none is excluded from
His all-embracing mercy and kindness, and that His
invitation to all that labor and are heavy laden, is not
a mere display of liberality, but the true manifestation
of sincere and gracious love.

But how shall we come to Thee, O blessed Jesus I
unless Thy Father, who sent Thee, draw us unto Thee \
(Jo. vi. 44.) Our desires are too faint— our powers
too w^, ever, of themselves, to reach Thee. Thy

■Miiwi*i*i'wwwi m «

tween Ilim
h, a signal
Btrnit piiss
Icome unto
come : and
an will He
ind ye slinll
iu, " Amen,
I " your joy
I sliall take

pplexed, the
I how sweet
that hopeth
He allowed
o familiarly
when little
[im, and His
He rebuked
>cked at His
x)uched by a
ty, He com-
ito special fa-
deluded from
ind that His
laden, is not
[uanifestatioQ

Clf COMINO TO JE8U8 FOB RKFKESIIMKNT. 158

blessing, then, be upon our unworthy efforts ; a bless-
ing upon the lips of hira that teacheth, and upon the
heart>» of them that hearken ; a blessing upon Thy
word, and upon the soil which shall receive it; a
blessing upon our beginning, and upon our consum-
mation ; a blessing upon our seeking and following
Thee here, and upon our finding and reachiflg Thee
hereafter ; a blessing upon our warfare, and a blessing
upon our crown— in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

>les3ed Jesus !
is unto Thee I
—our powers
I Thee. Thy

■TOaBaBstsR*

SERMON VIII.
9U iawlott.*

JoBV, tUI. 4a, M.
"Jem Mid to Uwm Whkh of you will cooTlct me of iln."

This Sunday, my brethren, opens the annual com-
memr ation of our dear Redeemer's sorrowful passion.
It commences a week of preparation to the more sol-
emn procession, through which His Church will soon
accompany Him in spirit, from Gethsemani to Jerusa-
lem, and from Jerusalem to Calvary. It therefore
begins gradually to initiate us into the deep and un-
searchable mystery of our redemption, which forms
the ground of our hopes and the object of our belief;
by the important and interesting appeal made by our
Saviour in this morning's Gospel : " Vhich of you
will convict me of sin 1 " He is just going to be slain
as the victim of sin, and yet He openly protests His
immunity from it: He is soon to be treated as a cul-
prit by the justice of His heavenly Father, and He
seems, in this question, to appeal from this sentence to
the conviction of His hearere, when He defies them to
allege against Him one of those offences for which He
is doomed, and justly doomed, to suffer. Yet, my

• Delivered oa PaMlon-Soaday, 1830.

"■mtm*"'^

•«ta

SbrUt in

it me of ila."

annnal com-
wful pnssion.
he more sol-
•ch will soon
,ni to Jenwa-
It therefore
ieep and un-
which forms
►f our belief;
made by our
'hich of you
ig to be slain
■ protests His
ited as a cul-
ther, and He
is sentence to
defies them to
for which He
ir. Yet, my

SUFFKlUNflS or CimWT IN nw PASSION. l.W

l)rethien, there can be no contra<Hction between the
JMtice of the Father and the appeal of the Son ; for
thoy are one, and can be but of one v/iil Both there-
fore are truth?, and, when united, they conmr to form
the hidden mystery of redemption.

It is my wish to engage your attention for their
consideration, as both demonstrated in the painful suiv
vey of the close of our Lord's life. Jesus by His pas-
sion vindicated from the slightest charge of even
venial transgression ; Jesus in His passion, justly bear-
ing the combined punishment due to the sins of the
whole world : these are the two conflicting portraits
of the world's lledeemer which I wish to sketch for
your edification, ufid thus represent to you in its full
grandeur, that most astonishing device of Almighty
goodness, the innocent Lamb of God, who y«t should
bear the sins of the world.

It had been foretold by king David, that his great
descendant should be treated as " the reproach of men
and the outcast of the people" (Pa. xxi. 1) : and such
He appears, in the most aggravated manner, in the
history of His passion. Betrayed by one of His apos-
tles, denied by His greatest friend, abandoned by all
His disciples, accused by His own people, judged to
die by the rulere and priests of His nation, con-
demned to the cross by the Roman governor, outraged
with impunity by the vilest of men, insulted publicly
by the flagrant criminals with whom He was associa-
ted in death ; surely, any one who beheld this specta-
cle, must have concluded that all those discordant
characters could never have conspired, in pitiless per-
secution, agairst any being stamped with the human

166 ON TUB CIIARAOTEIi AKD BUFKEBINfli

flirnre, unless k. had been the mo«t fbgUious ami re
mor««l«« ot hi. race. In fact, «iy brethren, thi* f<>nu9
the «canaal of th« cro«., " to the J«W8 a «tumljh.ig.
block and to the Gentile* foolishnew;" and alas! the
apoHtle might have added, to modern unbeliet a bla«.
phemy and a scoflf. But to the t. u«' Christian tlm
Icene brings triumph and joy; for he sees, in it all,
the noblest victory of Him whom he reveres, over the
malice of man and the frailty of his uature, as he
rea^ls at every step, the attestations of his adversaries
to His spotless character, and views the sublime per-
fection of it, exhibited in Ilia own conduct.

For three years the Son of man had exercised His
mission in every portion of the land, from Dan to Ber-
aabee, and from the coast of Tyre to the parts beyond
the Jordan. At every step Ilis conduct had been nar-
rowly watched by vigilant and keen adversaries;
their emissaries had beset Him with ensnanug qnes-
tious, had assailed Him alternately with flattery or
abuse; by turns, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the
Herodiaus, had employed their wily arts against Him
to destroy their common reprover. His political prin-
ciples had been tried, as on the quest u>. of tribute;
His religious opinions searched, as in the inquiry on
divoree and the punishment of adultery. He, on His
part, had acted openly and without disguise; had
Lght in the Temple, had debated in the synagogue
and healed in the streets and public places. He had
mingled in every class of society ; had joined the pu^
licans and the poor at their humble repast, oi-ieclined
at the more sumptuous tabic of the rich Phamee.
He had been placed in the most opposite situations:

)U9 and re-
thw forms
ntumbling*
, alas ! the
•lief a blaii-
ii-isiian Uu*
18, ill it uU,
es, over the
ture, as he
adversarita
ublioie per*

or CHJl»T tV HW TkMlOV.

167

:erci8e<

I His
Dan to Ber-
ftits beyond
id been nar-
adveraaries;
larhig q'les-

flattery or
sees, and the
against Him
olitical prin-

of tribute;

inquiiy on

He, on His
isguise; had
i synagogue,
». He had
ned the pub*
t, or reclined
ch Phaiisee.
e situations:

now seized to Im! King tgainHt His will, now awailed
with stones, or dragge(l towards th« brow of the hill
Ui be cant headlong from it. Do I wish to insinuate
that thn»ugh all the»« triaN His character hud never
l,«.<!n assailed i Quito on the contrary : whoever ad-
hered to Him had bee^ sohinuly exconimuniemted
(Jo. ix.) ; He had b*'en publicly denounced as a tranj*-
gressor of the law, and a contemner of the 8»bbath ;
and His very miradeH had been in His presence attrilj-
uted to the co-operation of Beelzebub. Now at length
the time is come, when, through the treachery of His
apiwtlc, He is in the hands of these foes ; now 13 their
hour and the power of darkness. They have j.Iot ted
His death and have determined upon cloaking it under
the forms of justice. Borne charge ih necessary against
Him : and we may therefore exp«ct to hear an indict-
menT of real or pretended offences, collected through
this long coui-se of uncefti»ing investigation, and em-
bodied into at least a Bi)ecious form of accusation, in
the frequent couicils held by the entire Sanhedrim.
(Matt xxvi. 8, 4.) He stonds then before them, on
the last night of His life, without an advocate or a
friend, to hear, in silent meekness, their charges against
Him. Let us watch the course of this interesting

inquiiy.

The accusations are many, and witnesses are not
wanting to support them. Yet all were such as even
this partial tribunal could not admit: "they found
not, though many false witnesses had come in" (Matt.
xxvi. 60) ; " their evidence did not agree." (Mar. xiv.
66.) Was there then not one of His numerous mi-
racles against which the charge of imposture could be

I W I WI !■» > « *'

158

ON TIIK CIURACTTKR AND BlFrKKINOt

artfully Inslntiate*! ; wm ther« no doctrine whuh
could bfl ingeniously distorted into a contempt for the
Iftw ; no action which could be niisrepreseutcd into a
tran^grewion of public or private <luty I

Instead of any charge of tliis sort, after hearing
and rejecting numerous depositions, the council is
compelled to receive only one which exhibits a shadow
of truth. Two witnesses attest that He had said,
«' I am able to destroy the Temple of God, and in
three days to rebuild it." (Matt. 61.) From the ac-
cusation thus selected, we may judge of the futility
of those which were discarded. It coniista in an
altered vewion, and palpable misapplication of an
allegorical prophecy of Hia resurrection. Asked to
reply to this accusation, our blessed Redeemer pre-
serves a dignified silence : and this silence proves a
sufficient confutation. His very enemies become
ashamed of the charge; and finding that they
have even yet no grounds to slander His char-
acter, the high-priest rises, and solemnly adjures
Him in the name of the living God, if He be the
Christ, the Son of the living God. He answers in
the affirmative; the high-priest rends his garments
and exclaims : *" He hath blasphemed. What further
need have we now of witnesses 1 E hold now you
have heai*d the blasphemy. What think you ? But
they answering said : He is gnilty of death." (Matt

66.)

Sach then is the charge upon which, at length, they
have agreed to rest the sentence of condemnation.
Fi'om this preliminary trial before Annas and Cai-
phas, follow them to the tribunal of Pilate, where

MMHIMNar*«MMMMMl

Jte.

rine whK'h
nipt for tlio
)ut«d into a

ter hcnring

council itt

A a Hha<low^

e hnd Raid,

lod, and in

rom the ao

the futility

gists in on

ition of an

AHked to

leemer pr«-

ce proves a

ies become

that they

His char-

nly adjures

He be the

answers in

is garments

/^hat further

id now you

you ? But

,h." (Matt.

length, they
ndemnation.
as and Gai-
ilate, where

or CIIRWT I!< llfM PAMIOV.

150

the rwult of the night's dfliberation has to !>« urgod
against their psianner. t)f what crifn« i* H" now
accused I Of having excited contvinpt againnt the
temple of God, or suggested iU tlfstruction ? Or per-
haps of blasphemy in calling Ilimnolf the Christ tho
Son of the living (Jod i Nothing of tho sort. Though
theHfl were the only accusations ujwn which the av
scidbly hud vot«»l Hlra guilty of <lenth but a few
honm before, they are not even mentioned now be-
fore the governor. They have changetl their ground
once more, and that in the mwt infamous manner.
" We have found this man perverting our nation, and
forbidding to give tribute to Ctnsar, and saying He is
Christ the King." (Luke, x.xiii. 2.) "If thou re-
lease this man thou art no friend of Cujsar's ; for who-
soever raaketh himself a king, speaketh against
Cffisar." (Jo. xix. 13.) "Truly iniquity hath lied
again? t itself." The Jews and their rulers were anx-
iously expecting their Messias ns a great Sovereign
and universal conqueror, who was to crush the diadem
of the Cffisars beneath the sceptre of David ; and yet
they pronounce the very desire to do so, a crime
worthy of death. But even this new charge is amply
confuted. After inquiry into the nature of the sov-
ereignty claimed by the accused, Pilate returns to the
Jews and answers, " I find no cause in Him." (Jo.
xviii. 88.) " No nor yet Herod ; for I sent you to
him, and behold nothing worthy of death is done to
Him." (Luke, xxiii. 15.)

Such is the result of this keen investigation. Ac-
cusers all in their turns rejected by His own enemies ;
charge after charge discarded by them as untenable,

i MW Wll— U M I* ■ -

-:^

160

ON THE CHARACTER AND SUFFEUINOS

■

and the last fully disproved by the judge whom they
had chosen ; sentence pronounced by him with a pro-
testation that it fell upon the innocent ; this is the
process of the Son of Man. And while His enemies
are thus baffled in their search after some plausible
accusation, their victim challenges them earnestly to
the inquiry, and calls upon them to collect every evi-
dence. When they ask Him " of His disciples and
doctrines," He answers, " I have spoken openly to the
world ; I have always taught in the synagogue, and
in the Temple, whither all the Jews resoi-t Why
askest thou Me ? Ask them who have heard what I
have spoken to them : behold they know what things
I have said." (Jo. xviii. 20, 21.)

This want of evidence could not arise from the dif-
ficulty of procuring it ; and it surely was not from the
faintest lingering of a sense of delicacy in their minds,
that the unjust adversaries could neglect the witnesses
who were at hand. Their whole conduct shows them
incapable of such a feeling. Crowds of unlettered
and timid women have followed Him from Galilee ;
they are initiated in His doctrines, and have witnessed
His actions : how valuable might their testimony be,
when elicited by the crafty subtlety, or extorted by
the imposing authority, of those who sat in the chair
of Moses I His disciples have fled, and deserted Him;
they have proved their timidity or rather their coward-
ice : why are they not seized, and summoned to de-
pose against Him ? Peter is in the hall with the ser-
vants of the high-priest. He has denied his Master
upon the harmless accusation of a maid, and in the
face of one who had seen him in the garden : how

•Sam

■i in' iii i ni l ' ''r ipWh

whom they
with a pro-

this is the
[is eDernies
B plausible
larnestly to

every evi-
jciples and
enly to the
kgogue, and
loi-t Why
sard what I
,vhat things

om the dif-
ot from the
heir minds,
le witnesses
jhows them

unlettered
)m Galilee ;
'e witnessed
jtimoay be,
jxtorted by
in the chair
lertedHim;
leir coward-
)ned to de-
ath the ser-

his Master
and in the
arden: how

OF CHRIST IN HIS PASSION.

161

much greater terror might be struck into him by the
threatening adjurations of the high-priest, speaking m
the minister of God, and as the prgan of supreme au-
thority; and how easily from denial might he be
forced into accusation 1 But, above all, where is the
traitor Judas ? The man who could betray his friend,
after having dipped his hand into the same dish with
Him, an action in his country equivalent to a solemn
oath of perpetual fidelity— that man, surely, will not
hesitate t( accuse Him. The traitor, who sold his
Master and Benefactor for thirty pieces of silver, will
not scruple, were it only for his own credit, to bring
some charge which may justify or palliate his deed, in
the face of the world. Instead of this, he restores
the price, of blood, protests in the face of the tribunal
that he has betrayed the innocent, and hangs himself
in despair. The enemies of Christ, then, must well
have known, that even from such witnesses as these,
not the slightest accusation was to be hoped. Oh
surely, of all the children of men, none other could
have passed through such a trial from the hands of
Bworn enemies, with a character not only unwounded
by the imputation of crime, but even unsullied by the
breath of slander.

Suppose that this iniquitous tribunal could have ar-
raigned their great law-giver, the pride and boast of
the nation, Moses, and had determined upon his con-
viction. Of him they might have said, that he had
acted with apparent cruelty to his sister Mary ; that
he had reduced the people to distress ; that under his
government they had been nearly exterminated by
plagues, the sword of the Levites, and the bite of fiery
11

■?

m'TiW

!22S

.i;=C

16t

ON THE CHARACTER AND SUFFERINGS

'' :-

serpents ; that his opposere had been devoted to ruth-
less destruction, and that he himself had disobeyed
the Divine commandment at the rock. However false,
some charge might have been made out, bearing at
least the semblance of accusation. But Jesus had gone
about only doing good; had cured every disease, had
fed the multitudes, had conferred benefits on His very
enemies; and when assaulted with stones, of all the
sons of men. He alone could boldly ask: "Many good
works I have shown you from my Father: for which
of those works do you stone me?" (Jo. x. 32.) "If,
then, in the green wood, they did these things, what
would they have done in the dry?" Even the law-
giver of the Jews, must have perished under the doom
of such a court, with the name at l ast of some crime
written upon his cross: Jesus alone could die through
its sentence, with only His most glorious title blazoned
over His head.

"With justice, then, could our Redeemer make His
appeal to His very enemies : " Which of you will con-
vict Me of sin ?" and it must be a subject of dehght to
His faithful followers to find that His appeal was fully
justified by these enemies themselves. But if from
their conduct we revert to His, we shall find that this
challenge fell far short of what He might truly have
demanded; for we shall there see a character, every
trait of which radiates with a perfection, not only un-
attainable, but inconceivable by human weakness. It
is adversity indeed, that gives the last finish to the
moral portrait of man ; yet, after all, it can only mark
strongly His nobler features, and develope an expres-
sion of dignity and fortitude. But adversity, my

• T v. -nTVfim fnm mm im

ted to ruth-
1 diaobeyed
wever false,
, bearing at
U3 had gone
disease, had
on His very
3, of all the
' Many good
• : for which
r. 32.) "If,
things, what
ven the law-
er the doom
: some crime
die through
itle blazoned

er make His
you will con-
of delight to
»eal was fully
But if from
find that this
bt truly have
iracter, every
not only un-
veakness. It
finish to the
an only mark
ipe an expres-
idversity, my

OF CimWT IN HIS PASSION.

168

brethren, would be an extenuating term to express
the furnaee of tribulation through which our Redeemer
passed; dignity and fortitude, would be but mean
characteristics of that inexpressible quality of soul
with which, lie endured. It is not necessary that I
should enumerate here the varied torments whic. Tie
underwent ; they are familiar to your minds, and we
shall have to dwell sufficiently upon this painful topic
in the second part of my discourse. At present I only
wish you to contemplate the manner in which they
were supported, by contrasting it with every species
of endurance wherewith the world has ever been ac-
quainted ; to see whether the perfection of our nature
alone could have possibly attained to it.

It was a fortitude, for I must call it by the name of
some human virtue, which did not rebult from strength
of nerve, or hardihood of constitution. The Son of
Man had not been trained to practices that confer
thf^se qualities : He had always exhibited a tender and
yielding disposition. He had been seen to weep, now
over the death of a friend (Jo. xi. 35), now over the yet
distant desolation of His country. (Luke, xix. 41.)
When His life had been attempted. He had prudently
escaped, instead of facing the danger; when there was
conspiracy against Him, He walked alone and trusted
not Himself to them. Hence, on the present occasion,
He offers no resistance, and yet His enemies dread to
seize Him ; He uses no menaces nor defiances, and yet
His persecutors are baffled. He conquers by submis*
sion, He wearies their cruelty by endurance.

It is not the courage of the philosophers. Often
has the impious parallel been made between the most

^^^^^y^^j^^|U#(«

mam

164 ON THE CIIAKACTEB AND 8UFFEK1N0S

celobmted man of that class in his last moments, and
the Saviour of the world in Ills passion. But what a
contrast in their situation I The one drinks with
grace the poisonous drauglit, conscious that, however
he may be hated and envied by a few, the attention
of iiis fellow-citizens rests on him with reverence, to
catch his last words, and that of his disciples, with af-
fectioM, to inhale the last breath of their master. The
other drains to the dregs a chalice of bitter suffering,
such as never before or since was prepared for any
human creature, scorned, outraged, and insulted by
the whole of His nation, abandoned, denied, and be-
trayed by His own dearest followers. What a con-
trast in their manner! The one, supported by his
numerous friends, defends himself with earnestness and
ingenuity, perhaps even in the sacrifice of his real
principles, and beguiles his last moments, by the
cheering speculations of his profession. The other
stands mute through His various trials, with every
temptation of innocence to make a triumphant de-
fence ; and preserves an unabated equanimity amidst
the desolation and abandonment of His cruel death.
And yet His silence convinced Pilate more than the
studied eloquence of the other did his judges ; yet, the
calm resignation of His agony forced from the lips of
the hardy centurion and the prejudiced multitude,
that " verily this was the Son of God ;" while the dra-
matic exit of His rival could only procure for him the
praise that he had died like a philosopher.

In fine, my brethren, it waa not the fortitude of the
maityrs. They were supported in their torments by
the example of constancy and love, which He first

'**♦
^4^

INUS

aoraents, and
But what a
drinks with
liat, however
^he attention
reverence, to
pies, with af-
naster. The
ter suffering,
ired for any
insulted by
tied, and be-
iVhat a con-
>rted by his
'nestness and
of his real
nts, by the
The other
with every
mphant de-
mity amidst
cruel death,
re than the
:es ; yet, the
; the lips of
I multitude,
lile the dra-
for him the

itade of the
orments by
sh He first

OF 01IRI8T IN ma PASSIOlf.

165

presented. Yet, even in their virtue, some weak in-
fusion of human frailty might be perceived. The bold
tone of defiance in which they sometimes addressed
their judges ; the warmth with which they overthrew
the altara of the false gods ; the eagerness with which
they even cast themselves under the stroke of the ex-
ecutioner : these demonstrations of alacrity and zeal
were a flame breaking out from the fervor glowing
within them, a flame ardent indeed, and brilliant, but
just sufficiently tinged to show, that some small grains
of human frailty mingled with its sacred fuel. But
their guide and head, in His passion, evinced nothing
of this: not an accent of defiance any more than of
complaint escaped His lips ; He sought not to aggra-
vate or hasten, any more than to diminish or retard,
His sufferings. Theii-s was the daring ardor of the
champion, — His the unresisting meekness of the vic-
tim.

Yes, my brethren, it is pl*ecisely this, which makes
the conduct of Jesus during His passion, original in
its perfection, and solitary in its sublimity ; that His
endurance and fortitude was the consequence of those
qualities of soul, which, in human calculation, would
have led to the very opposite results, but which in
Him blended into one divine character the most dis-
similar virtues : He alone is strong in not resisting.
He alone is courageous in making no opposition. But
in the midst of this singular patience there are traits
which could not have entered into even the imaginary
delineation of human perfection. That kind exertion
of power which wrought a miracle to heal one of His
captors, though He would not do so bef Jie Herod, to

ICG

ON THE CIIARACTEU AND 8UFI'*EKINGS

save IIi8 own life ; that look, which, amidst, unspeak-
able torments, could dart at once reproof and forgive-
ness into the heart of the apostle who had just denied
Him ; that compassion which could make Him forget
His own cruel sufferings, to console the pious women
who wept over Him ; that filial piety and zeal, which,
in the lost agony, could provide for the comfoi-t of a
parent, and attend to the salvation of His fellow-
sufferers ; above all, that unheard-of charity which,
could exhaust His last breath in a supplication foi
His pei-secutors' forgiveness : oh, my brethren, these
are not the looks, the actions, the accents of man 1
How are the ways of God exalted above our ways !
How differently would human wisdom have sketched
the character of a God made Man for the redemption
of the world ! We might have made Him come as
the Jews expected Him, a conqueror, overthrowing
all who resisted His will and opposed His religion.
But would He then have been more glorious than
when, with a strong hand and extended arm. He over-
threw the host of Pharaoh, and rescued His people
from the bondage of Egypt? We might have sup-
posed Him remodelling the human heart, and gradu-
ally adapting it to the infusion of His law. But
would He then have appeared in the same magnifi-
cence as when He framed that heart from the dust of
earth, and by His touch communicated its first vital
impulse ? No, my brethren, by any of these ways He
would have only shown Himself the same as He had
always been- the Great, the Terrible, and the Majes-
tic, beyond our imitation as beyond our comprehen-
sion ; — \)\it never should we have seen His unlimited

*18E5!

far

liMwaM

it. un speak*
id forgive-
ust deuied
lira forget
iU8 women
3al, which,
mfoii; of a
3is fellow-
ity which,
ication foi
bren, these
} of man 1
our ways I
9 sketched
edemption
ni come as
3rthrowing
is religioQ.
•rious than
a, He over-
[lis people
have sup-
RDd gradu-
law. But
le raaguifi-
bhe dust of
a first vital
e ways He
as He had
the Majes*
Bomprehen-
I unlimited

f^i

OF CliniST IX HIS PASSION.

perfections acting in the narrow sphere of human re-
lations; never would men and angels have beheld
what it would have been deemed blasphemous impiety
to imagine — the conduct of a God in sufiering and in
death.

Hitherto, my brethren, we have viewed, in the pei'-
son of our suflfering Saviour, the " High-Priest, holy,
innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners, and made
higher than the heavens (Heb. vii. 26) ; we have now
to consider Him in the very opposite character, as the
Victim charged with the iniquity of the whole people.
We have heard His appeal that none could convict
Him of siu : we have seen that appeal more than jus-
tified in His passion, by the conduct of His adversa-
ries and the perfection of His own character ; we have
now to behold Him, in spite of this pei-sonal inno-
cence, doomed to die by the decree of His own
Eternal Father, as overcharged with a debt for sin.
The sentence of men was indeed unjust which con-
demned Him as a criminal; that of the Father just, as
all must be which He commands : and so strong is the
contrast between these two simultaneous sentences
upon earth and in heaven, that it appears as if even
the small particles of equity which lingered here be-
low after the first fall, were now withdrawn from
earth, in order that the whole powers of this attribute
might be concentrated with a greater force in this
almighty arm. It fell from heaven undivided upon
the head of this devoted Victim.

God, my brethren, abhora sin with a hatred which
it has not entered into the heart of man to conceive.
Yet, for four thousand yeare had He witnessed its in-

mttmm

imwwiwi ii in

, if

^_'

168

ON THE CHAllACTKR AND SUFFERIN08

croftsinj? ravages over the face of IIw creation. The
fii-Ht full had been quickly sacceeded by transgressions,
without number and withont limits. A blinduew had
dimmed the eyes, a frenzy had seiTsed the heart of man,
a porvei-sion of will distorted all his faculties, ft fee-
bleness of purpose paralyzed all his desires of good.
At every step, the whole race plunged deeper into the
abyss of religious ignorance and criminal excess, which
proceeded to the absolute degradation of their nature.
A thick cloud veiled from their sight the great Au-
thor of all good, or, if it occasionally transmitted a
few rays from His glory, it was only with a more fierce
and threatening glow. The world had even forgot its
Maker : the woi-ship of the true God was at one time
confineA to one tabernacle in the desert, covered with
skins, around which only a stiff-necked -and rebellious
jjeople knelt : the whole of His inheritance scarcely
formed more than one speck upon the broad Burface
of His earth. Alas ! what was to check His vengeance
upon His ungrateful creatures? Was it the faint
smoke of the few victims slaughtered upon this one
altar, which could scarcely penetrate an atmosphere
tainted with abominations, and reeking with crime?
No; the blood of oxen or of goat«, or the ashes of a
heifer sprinkled, could sanctify no more than to the
"cleansing of the flesh." (Heb. ix. 13.) Was it the
prayers and expiations of the few just who remained
faithful to their God? But not even for themselves
could they have deserved mercy, seeing that " the
Scripture hath concluded all under sin" (Gal. iii. 32),
and that they belonged to the infected race. How
much less could they have been propitiation for

jTtMiiiiii liiiOi itV'iii"> ■ "

, ,., .-■ .i.... .^,..jlfa..i- ■ ,1 iMi.,-..jii irliJBi i liill i I iTW r w iiiit in

^jM.

'V^--

ition. The
nsgrcssions,
indueM had
eart of man,
ilties, ft fee-
es of good,
per into the
xcessi, which
heir nature,
e great Au-
nDsniitted a
1 more fierce
en forgot its

at one time
wvered with
id rebellious
nee scarcely
road eurface
is vengeance

it the faint
)on this one

atmosphere
with crime?
e ashes of a
than to the

Was it the
ho remained
r themselves
g that "the
[Gal. iii. 32),

race. How
pitiatioa fur

or onnisT n? nw pabsioit.

169

othera? For, "no brother shall redeem, nor shall
man redeem : he shall not give to God his ransom, nor
the price of the redemption of his soul." (Ps. xlviii.
8, 0.) Hence it was, that the Almighty might have
visited the earth with His punishments, but even
these could form no expiation and no security. They
could only be like the storm, which clears, in its fright-
ful course, the impui ities that have gathered under the
face of heaven, then leaves them once more to collect,
till sufficient to merit the same awful remedy. Had
there been no further resource, better would it have
been for man had the great Creator shaken in sunder
the fabric of the earth ; or if, on His fii-st great chas-
tisement, He had, in the family of Noe, completely
cut the chain of human existence, which continued
into the regenerated world the crimes and defilements
of its predecessor. But no ; in the dread book of the
Almighty's decrees, at its very head a -mysterious per-
son had entered the solemn and impressive words,
" Behold I come." These formed the charm which
suspended the exterminating decrees of an outraged
Deity, which made Him receive, with complacency, the
odor of His sacrifices, and listen with mercy to the
supplications of His servants.

When, at length, the fulness of time had come, this
voluntary victim who was to expiate the sins of all,
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, stands ready to receive
the fatal doom. Two things were necessary to accom«
plish his great purpose; that He should take upon
Him the offeuces which He has to atone, and that He
should present an equivalent for the debt due to Divine
Justice for them.

iMB

ITO

OM TIIR CIUnAOTJCR AXD BUFFKRIXajJ

In the Gnrt'en of Olivei the flret con<lition h^ni
to be fulfilled. As the Titai moiruut prescribed for
the cornraencement of In sufyt.Tings nrrivem, Hl« char-
uciiii uuu fedingf undergo the dinulfnl ch(U)g(>. lie
w no longer regarfkd by His f'ather, m that beloved
Son in whom HeexpresMrtd HJm«»»lf well plewied, fi >m
the cloud of Mount Thabor; uv whom He had h lew
tliiya iHjfore glorified by a voice from Heaven. Instead
of this, He sees before Him a culprit, upon whose
head lie all the iniquities of men ; all the foul idola*
tries, and the horrible Abominations of the pngan
world ; all the Vebellions and treasons of His fH^ orite
people; and what is still more grievous, the blaci in-
gratitude of those who ««bould taste the fruits of His
redemption. Each of the ingredientH, everj particle
of this luoss of turpitude, e.r cites His abhorrence in an
inconceivable degree ; they are now, for the fli-st time,
accumulated upon one subject, and bury from His
sight, the high dignity of Him whom they oppress.
He!H all those feeliugs which they must excite in
Him are no less concentrated aga. ,4 this representa-
tive of crime; the indignation which sent a flaming
sword to chase our first parents from Paradise, the
wrath which drownt d in one deluge the entire race of
man, the detestation which rained fire and sulphur
upon seven cities; these have all at ]»'nc^th found one
common channel, into which they can pour their burn-
ing stream, and so satisfy a craving justice, till now
only Dartially allayed.

Oh ! what a corresponding change does this cause
in the soul of our dear Iledeemer. He, too, hates sin
as mdch as His Heavenly Father; He, too, pursues it

or cnnvn ix nra pamiov

171

n l)t>g{ni
\hm\ for
lis chftr-
g«. lie

beloved
i«(l, fi >ia
ftil ii law

Instead
n whose
ul idola*
e pflgAQ

ftt^orite
blaoi in-
B uf His

pftrticle
[ice in an
li-st time,
i'om Uls
oppress,
excite in
pre^f'titft-

flaming
.dise, the
e race of

salphor
Duud one
eir burn-
till now

his cause
hates sin
)Qi'sae8 it

with equal detestation, and would avenge the Ihvina
Justice wherever its enemy is to bo t( nd. What a
pro«t{)<*ct then must it be to Him to nc the trurisgreh-
•ioDS uf the wh >1e w >r1d thus crowding before Him,
oppi't'Rsing His soul I He sees them not merely iti
maw and indistinctly, — the light of the Divinity, which
beams on His h'>uI, Mh>*ws Him each, separate and clear,
as if that moment actually |)erpetrated Insfore Hia
eyes. But it is not a fnere enumeration of these hor*
roin which forms His occupation. The dark and
dismal catalogue He has made His own. Ho has become
surety for its amount ; and His soul, a, few moments
before enj* ying the "peace of God," serene and tran-
quil, gradually becomes darkened and agitated hy the
increasing storm, till it is made one scene of desolation,
uneasiness, and distj ess. " My soul," says He, " is 8o^
rowful'even unto death." (Matt. xzvi. 38.) The ishame
accompanying the commisnion of crime overwhelms
Him, and forms the tirst ingredient of His bitter cup.
We, my brethren, are but too li ibituated to the
commission of gin, to experience that delicate and fine,
but for this ery reason, more piercii feelin ;, which
makes us bb b and stand confounded before our own
consciences, even when there is no witness of our
fault. ButHe^ees Plis pure soul, incapable ii. itself
of the slightest defilement, now hideously disfigured
by milliuns of abominable crimes, mor^- odious to Him
than death. Abashed hmI degraded He sinka upou
the earth. Hii mental sorrow i neceH?*ariIy connected
with anotJK dreadful suffering, the siraultaueons au>
tioipation of every torment inflicted upon Hun through
Hia [laasion. For, a» He has to bear the iniquities of

■r»

17a ON TIIK OlIABACTKB AKD UUrFKRIWOB

the entire rnce, •« mmt He bear thoie of II 8 ptfnie.
cuLmm; nnd, in reviewing iliem all, \U n«c«»«a"i!y suf-
fer« the pnngn by inflicting which they are to b > com-
mitted. He feeU Himself clwrged with th« trt-nion
of Judat, ami with the RpoHtacy of IVter. Every
blanphtMUomi word to be utton-d .tgaiuHt llim«»"lf, \n ft
stain which noxv defiles His soul. Thus do«-- He i^-
hearse in His mind every part of the bloody tragedy
which has immediately to commence, bearing at once
its sufferings and its guilt Each blow upon His
lacred head, not only drives deeper the wreath of
thorns which ^ncirclen it, but inflicts a far more rack-
ing wound, in the guilt of sacrilegious profanation,
which it lays upon Him. Eveiy stroke of the guilty
hammer which forces the nail into His tender palm,
not only rends its quivering fibres and convulHes His
sensitive frame, but transfixes His soul with a keener
anguish, by the impiety against God's anointed which
it adds to His burden of sin. He considei* Himself
a fallen and a rejected creature ; and this deep sense of
degradation generates an anxious timidity hitherto
unknown in His conduct. Oh, how is He changed from
what we have always hitherto beheld Him I He has
left all His disciples except three, whom He selects to
be the companions of His agony— "Stay you here
and watch with me." He di-eads the eyes of even
these three favorite disciples whom He has n-lected to
be His companions, and He retires from them in order
to pray alone. Thi.e times He returns to receive
some consolation from them, and to derive some sup-
port from thei i- uniting with Him in prayer. Alasl
He used to be their consolation and support: He used

mmm

„:.!j ' -ji:.^^: ' jLL.-A!.j ' .,.-jg"

OV OIIKIMT IN Itn PAMION.

178

»lly »uf«

)) cuni-

iremon

Every

f\f, in a

trngetly
At once
ton liis
eath of
I'o rack-
anntion,
ti guilty
T palm,
lUen His
i keeuwr
id which
Iliiuself
) avn»ii uf
hithei'to
ged from

He htui
lelects to
^ou here

of even
•leuted to
1 in order
3 receive
ome au{^
p. Ala« I

Housed

to exclaim to them : " Ye of little faith, why do ye
f»'ftr." Yet now Ho unint rvcxxr to t/nm for a like en-
coui'i^ement, and even in thin H« is (lo<»med to dinap-
pointment. How different Hit prayer from that
j»oured forth in tl»e days of His joy I " O my Father, if
it iH possible, let thin chalice paw from me. Nevel^•
theleMH, not m I will, hut aa thou wiliest." (!J9.)
What, then ! i« Thy will no longer to do that of Him
who aeut Thee, thftt thou tthouldHtdidtingulMh between
them! Where is now that confidence with which
Thon wert wont to excUlm, "Father, I know that
Thou hearest me always"? (Jo. xi. 42.) Why this
conditional, this diffident, this so frequently repeated
])rayer i

Because, He feel» Himst-lf changed into another
man ; H« calls out as an unworthy sinner, and as such
He is unheard. Even an angel from Heaven is nece«h
•ary to support Him in His excess of agony. Oh, what
a change again is here 1 The heavenly spirits did in-
deed announce His conception, and sing hymns of joy
and glory at His birth : they came and ministered to
Him after His rigorous fast. But that they should
have to descend upon such an errand as thi«, to con-
sole their Master, and support Him in His sufferings,
this surely is a service never anticipated by these faith-
ful ministers of His will. O T^ord, what wonder, that
with this complicated agony, Thy limbs should fail,
Thy pores should break open, and Thy agitated,
bursting heart should impel its streams with unnatural
violence through Thy trembling limbs and body, till
its precious drops gush through the skin, and bathe
Thee prostrate on the ground, in a sweat of blood I

W'mmmrr^f

•jmm

i^ ♦

174

ON TlIK CMARAC5TEK AND SUFFEUINOS

"Surely He Lath borne our infirmitU : and carried
our sorrows, . . . and the Lord hath Iha on Him the
iniquity of us all." (Is. liii. 4, 6.)

The flrat condition of atonement was thus observed
— the second yet remains ; and it was fulfilled upon
the cross. I will not attempt to lead you tnrough
the preliminaiy sufferings of this willing Victim, nor
to describe His torments from the heartless and brutal
treatment of the Jewish rabble, or the more studied
and systematic mockery of the Roman soldiery. It is
the completion of the sacrifice on Calvary, which prin-
cipally deserves our notice. Of those who beheld the
Bad procession move towards this fatal spot, and be-
held its principal sufferer tottering in the last state of
weakness, beneath the weight of His own cross, His
hair and beard plucked, His features defaced, His
tattered raiment stiffened with gore, His body gashed
and welted with stripes, His comely hend torn with
the thorns which crown it ; if any who saw this
spectacle, knew that it was His Eternal Father who
commanded Him thus to ascend, i»i order to be immo-
lated, he would surely have anticipated that the last
stroke at least, would be averted, and have flattered
himself, that again, it would be said with truth, " On
the mountain, the Lord will provide a victim." But
no, my brethren, Divine Justice eanuot be eluded ;
and the heavenly holocaust is cruelly fastened to the
altar. Oh, who can recount, who can conceive, the
sufferings of His last three hours ! All the sores in-
flicted by His previous torments retain their former
smart, now aggravated by being re-opened, and gan-
grened through exposure to the air. Besides these,

«»►

■ y iiiiii ii «i i »

iLi;]". l iuiMuj aBiilltM

M*i

■ y m fll

carried
[iim the

bserved
;d upon
tnrough
tim, nor
d brutal
studied
^. It ia
ch prin-
beld the
and be-
state of
089, His
sed, His
'■ gashed
>rn with
aw this
ber who
e immo-
the last
Mattered
th, " On
I." But
eluded ;
d to the
live, the
jores in-
' former
nd gan-
» these,

*»►

OF CHRIST IN ms PASSION.

Its

four new wonncls, roughly inflicted by the nails which
fix Him to the cross, ever tearing and enlarging,
maintain an unceasing and racking pang. A parch-
ing thiret, only aggravated in Him by a draught of
gall and vinegar; a burning fever tingling through
every turgid vein ; a constrained respiration fruitlessly
struggling for ease and freedom, — such were the ordi-
nary torments of crucifixion ; but, in this instance,
they were the least portion of the suffering. Even
the most abandoned culprit meets with some com-
miseration from the multitude ; and some expression
of sympathy generally soothes his dying ear. But
the Redeemer of the world is pureued with taunts
and scoffs, to the last moment of His life. Not a
friend, or a comforter, raises His head before Him, ex-
cept those whose sorrow only aggiavates His own —
His Mother, and His beloved disciple. His little
property is all in the bands of Hiu enemies, who are
unfeelingly amusing themselves at the foot of His
cross, by casting lots over His wretched spoils. But
what is all this, to the abandonment and desolation of
soul which He now feels ? For Him it was little that
the world should have fci'saken Him, or conspired
against Him, so long as He was supported by His
heavenly Father. But this consolation is now with-
drawn ; a3 He hangs between earth and Heaven, He
feels Himself placed between man and His offended
Deity, abandoned by both, unpitied by both ; and,
after looking in vain around Him on earth, to gather
some mite of consolation here below, He casts up His
d^ponding eyes towards Heaven, and exclaims in
His last burst of sorrow and distress, " My God, My

wmm*

*S:i

m^m

176

ON THK ClIARAOTER AND 8UFPERTN09

God, why hast T/iou abandoned me !" But no, this is
not enough ; not only does He hold Himself aban-
doned, but accursed of God; "for cursed," says St.
Paul, " is every man that hangeth on a tree." He con-
siders Himself as one struck by God and afflicted,
and abstracting from the malice of man, feels in
every wound the poignant stroke of His infliction.
The dai'knras which veils the face of Heaven, appears
to Him not as the mourning of Nature over His snf-
farings, but as if the sun refused to shine upon such
an object of Divine wrath and execration. Ihe
earthquake, with which the ground ^^eels, as He ex-
pires, seems to Him not the convulsive pang of cre-
ation in sympathy with its suffering Maker, but the
painful throes of the world, unable to support the
burden of iniquity which presses from His cross, nnd
struggling to be delivered of its accumulated weight.
Oh, are not all these sufferings an adequate compensa-
tion to the outraged rights of Heaven, for the sins of
the whole world I If justice demanded, and compas-
sion had granted, that blood of such price should be
shed for man, it was not surely necessary that it
should flow in such a copious stream. But Thou, O
Jesus ! wast not content with less than a complete and
unreserved purchase, that we might not be any longer
our own, but be Thy pviople, and Thou our Sovereign
King. Oh, and what a throne, dear Lord, hast Thou
-jhosen, to reign over us— what a sceptre, what a
crown 1 Not a seat of majesty like that of Thy pre-
decessor, Solomon, which dazssled by its splendor, and
astonished by its magnificence all who entered, but
the hard and knotty rack of the cross, disjointing Thy

» . *"m iiiii i iii <i | i iiiii l iii| M iiii jl ii III

fag^'g'aagwB Wi i .H miuiii ibiw***!—! ■— — >i

this is

F abftn-

ays St.
or

•

OF CHRIST IW HIS PA88I0IT.

177

limbs, and grating upon Thy mangled body I Not
the Hceptre of Assuerus, which all men dreaded to see
withheld, and which saved a life by every touch ; but
the weak aud despicable reed, which mockery has
thrust into Thy wounded hand, and whose strokes
only descend upon Thine own venerable head 1
Not the diadem which Tl^y father David made from
the spoils of Melchom, rich in much gold, and glitter-
ing with precious stones (1 Paral. xx. 2), but a circle
of long hard thorns, straining and goring Thy sacre^
brows, and glistening with the crimson drops which it
has rudely torn from Thy veins. Oh, be not these sor-
rows endured for us to no purpose I Thy blood, which
pleadeth better than that of Abel, and which clean-
seth us from all sin, be upon us, and upon our chil-
dren; not as called down upon themselves, by the
blaspheming Jews, but as its drops fell upon Thy sor-
rowing disciple at the foot of the cross, as a dew of
mercy, reconciliation, and peace I

My brethren, I am conscious of having drawn for
you but a faint etching of these two portraits of the
Son of God, where the subject might have been
wrought into a rich and glowing picture. But still, I
may ask, does not reverence for His sacred perfec-
tions, and gratitude for His redemption, impel us,
once at least in the year, to commemoi-ate His suflFer-
Ings ? The season set apart for this pui-pose, is now
«ome; and, as the functions therein will have com-
menced before I address you for the last time, next
Sunday, allow me here to inculcate the propriety of a
respectful and devout behavior during their celebra-
tion. Many of you have, perhaps, been brought up

f^EMMi

■MM

•■"•**i-

178

ON niE CHARACTER AND SUFFERINGS

to consider that all porup and ceremony shiwld be
banished from religion ; you have been taught that,
while you may employ the ricbest perfume, which the
bounty of God has caat over the earth, in the cause of
vanity, or personal gratification, it then only becomes
an odor of death, when it ascends in a cloud of hom-
age before the aUur of its Giver. You have beeu,
perhaps, taught that the riches of eai'th, the gold and
sdver which He haf> claimed as His own by His
prophet (Malachi), may be lawfully used to deck the
tabernacles of clay which we inhabit, but they are
cast away in useless superstition, the moment, " in the
simplicity of our he&rts, we offer all these things" for
the splendor of Go'i's house. K, then, these are your
feelings, I say to you, " refrain from these men," and
leave them to themselves. Mingle not in a worahip
which yju do not approve. But if you will place
youraelf in this situation, remewber that you are pres-
ent where the most dignified hierarchy of the greatest
Christian Church is assembled to commemorate the
sublime benefit of salvation. Remember that the
hymns which you hear chaunted in solemn pathos,
are the dirge aud funeral song of the Redeemer of the_
world, when, according to the advice of Jeremias, the
daughter of God's people, girt with sackcloth aud
sprinkled with ashes, makes mourning as for an only
son. (vi. 26.) You pass with gravity and salute with
reverence, even the humble bier of the poor, as it
moves to his last abode, and you respect the sori-ow of
those who mourn after his remains: surely it is not
too much to expect the same for the whole Christian
Church, weeping over the cruel death of her Re-

wmamm

L ' !!i - J . ■ ' - . Km m^^f"^'^^- ^ i -ijr ' j ' li- ' ^ 1 "

IHj^oHii

Mtt

OF CHRIST IN UIS PASSIOIT.

deemer and Head. And if any one, with such a re
fle^^tion before his eyes, conducts himself with disre-
spect, much more with insnlt, that man must he so
insensible to the benefit commemorated, that it is not
hr^iah to say, that had he lived at the time, he would
have joined in the outcry for the release of Barabbas,
and scoffed on Calvary in the face of the cross. " But
from yoii, my brethren, we hope better things." We
trust that you will show to the world that your faith,
your hope, reposes upon the mystery of the cross, and
that by celebrating worthily this first visit of the
Lord, when He comes in meekness and peace, you
will not have to dread His second appearance, in the
day of His judgment and Hia wrath.

SERMON IX.
(^n the 3ainM <rt €fivi»t.

Matt. xL 6.
" BlMMd ia he that ahall not be scandalized In me."

The moderation of our Lord's demands, my breth-
ren, should be the inverted measure of our confusion.
In proportion as He, who could claim all things, con-
tents Himself with asking little, as He bates more and
inore of His just rights and lawful exactions, we, too,
should rise, or rather sink in our humiliation, and our
blushes should deepen, to see how low an estimate He
must have formed of our gratitude and our worth.
"Blessed is he that shall not be scandalized (or of-
fended) in me !" Note well the connexion of this
sentence. " The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers
are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the
poor have the Gospel preached to them — and blessed
is he that shall not be scandalized iu me." What ! of
such as are thus benefitted, is no more asked ? Shall
they not be called on to minister with their worldly
goods, to Him who has restored to them the blessings
of life, yea, their very life itself? Is not the foot, or
the eye, which He hath renewed, the health which
He hath brought back, His, that it should serve Htm
for ever ? Shall He not have a room in the widow of
Nairn's house, as the prophet had at Sarepta; shall

WdhfepM

"tm

OW THE SCANDAL OF CHRIST.

181

shall

not the niler feast Him, when He passes by his way ;
and the centurion be called on to rescue Him IVoni
the conspiracies and violence of His enemies ? Coidd
any individual being, in a nation so favored as that
was, with His glorious presence, so loaded witl. mer-
cies, by the exercise of His great power, be reasona-
bly called blessed, even for showing gratitude, overt,
active, unceasing and unwearied towards Him ; or for
feeling love, deep, fervent, and inexhaustible ? And
yet. He seemeth hardly to dare asking so much. He
shrinks, in fear of man's corrupt heart, in suspicion of
our wayward affections, from overcharging us with
such a load of sweetness. He sets tha price and ac-
quisition of blessing at the lowest possible instalment
of gratitude : " Blessed is he that shall not be scan-
dalized in me 1" As though He had said : " Happy
shall ye be, if ye refrain from showing me aversion
and dislike ; blessed shall ye be, if, not having courage
to welcome me when I arrive at Jerusalem with
hosannas, ye will at least abstain from joining in the
oufef^i'ix^s for my blood I Well shall it be with you, if,
unabl** ro attend by me in my trials, with the faithful
few who shall surround the foot of my cross, ye, at
least, stand. not in the crowd, and wag your heads at
rae in mockery." Ob, how poor, indeed, must human
nature have seemed to Him, when He rated its bless-
edness so low !

And we, my brethren, what are we but a crowd of
blind, and lame, and helpless wretches who surround
Jewis ; and all of us are lepera whom He hath cleansed
from sin in the laver of regeneration ; and many of_u3
have been dead, and raised by Him from the deep

•i

fcHl i jluiJ l Wlf iprrti ^ 'i^ gJ'l i Wrft l!* . I Jtf i>;l! ni. | i .'mtf M—.i w j l -'^ * !l li - ' '

189

oy THK SCANDAL OF CimiST.

and thrice-sealed graves of our iuiqaities. And yet,
of 08 too, He well may say, " Blessed is he that is not
Bcandaliied in me." Doubtless, upon hearing these
words, and considering them as addressed to us, we,
each of us, exclaim with Peter, " Although all men
•bould be scandalized in Thee, I will not be scandal-
ieed." (Matt. xxvi. 83.) Doubtless, our hearts revolt
at the idea of being so thankless and unfeeling ; and
we fancy, in the delusions of our self-love, that nev^r
•hould we shrin* from owning and professing Jesut,
even should temptation come. And yet, alas! mj
brethren, I say it with pain and with shame, the
chances are, that, if but the slightest trial presented
itself this day, before the cock shall crow, we should
deny him thrice !

In two different ways does our Saviour tell us that
we may be scandalized in Him. For first, when some
men, thinking his doctrine hard and unpalatable,
thereat murmured, He reproved them saying : " Doth
this scandalize you ?" (Jo. vi. 62.) Are you offended
at my doctrine, because it does not fall within the
narrow circle of your comprehensions and conceptions ?
Secondly, when foretelling the cowardice and flight of
His apostles, upon seeing Him ignominiously and un-
justly treated. He called their -conduct by the same
name, saying: "All you shall be scandalized in me
this night." (Matt. xxvi. 30.) Our scandal, or offence
at Christj may thus have a two-fold direction from a
common root : which root is pride. For this one, and
individual, feeling, will not let us soar irto admiration
of doctrines above the hampered flight of our weak
minds, nor let us stoop in sympathy and admiration

«»•

HMII

0!» TIIR ROAITDAL OF CnitlST.

185

over the humiliations of oar Lord. 8t. PhuI briefly
and energetically, as he is wont, characterizes this two-
fold 8canda],when he says, that Christ, cniuified, whom
he ])reached, was to the Greeks, " who sought wisdom,"
*' foolishness," and to the Jews, who required signs, " a
stumbling-block;" but "to those who are called,"
" the wisdom of God, and the power of God. For
that which is the foolish of God, is wiser than man, and
that which is the weak of God, is stronger than man."
(1 Cor. i. 22, 26.) That is, these doctrines, whereat
the learned Greeks smiled as fond and extravagant,
were the fairest manifestations of uncreated wisdom ;
and those humble appearances of Christ's religion,
which the carnal Jews contemned, were the mightiest
demonstration of infinite power and glory. Let us see
how far we ever fall into this two-fold scandal.

First, we are scandalized or shocked at the duo*
trioes of Christianity ; we perhaps bear them about us,
but we bear them as we should a talisman or charm,
in whose efficacy we ourselves believe, at the same
time that we should feel ashamed were it discovered
upon us by others. Strange and incomprehensible
feeling I The Jew possessed a law of dark and needy
elements, the shadow of our good things ; the adap<
tion of God's truths to the unregenerated, unspiritual-
iaed mind of man. Yet he was proud of it. H©
meditated upon its open volume, sitting on the door*
step of his cottage amidst the ruins of his ancient cities ;
he used of old to write its chosen precepts upon the
posts of his gat/e; he materialized the commands of
attention to it, and bound it in phylacteries, upon his
arm and over his eyes, that he might never forge^i it,

184

OH TUB SCAMDa . Or CIIKMT.

and that all mm might 1cnowth« reliKion • which h«
lH5longed. In this, no doubt, was exce** i- extravji.
gance. For woe to the man who only ou .Uly ytro'
fesaen the law of his Lo»d, and treasureth »• not up in
his very heart's heart; in whom the vhlhU dtuion-
•tration thereof is other than the ovei-flowing of a soul
that will I >t contain its fulness.

And here, my brethren, it is meet tlft'. "justice
should begin from the house of God. " (1 F^'X iv. 17.)
It is right and wholesome, that before we, i ho minis-
ters of Christ, chide the coldness and neglect of the
faithful, we confts« in confusion our own tJi^grftce,
and deplo. « th« seduction of our weak exam«.U'. For
it is too true, tl at the ferment and glowing language
of religion hath escnned from our lips, and tliat we
handle its brightest glories with coldntii , tad wield
the thunderbolts of its judgments, as though they
were but for our disport. When are the sublinje
dogmas of revelation proposed to the mink of the
faithful, with that kindred inspiration ihnt; passed
from them into the ht'arts of ancient Father i Where
do we now meet that mysterious wisdom, and deep
admiration of the abstruser doctrines of faith, which
proceeded from loug and fervent meditation upon
their sublime worth ? Is it not too clear, that our
preaching consists rather in the diluting of mysterit^s
as in the softening down of severity; and that, wbi ■
we affect to make virtue amiable, and revelation pala-
table, we in ti-uth sacrifice the real beauty of both,
and reduce them, though divine, to a human, and an
earthly standard ?

And if the scandal, thus beginning from the shep-

Inch hi
exti'AVtt*
Jly pro-
ot up in
tlmiion-
)f a soul

"justice

iv. 17.)
in in id*
:t of the
Hsgrftce,
W. For
nngUBgtt

tliat we
id wiel'
gh tlusy

Bublime
^ of tbe
t passed

Where
ad deep
,h, whioU
on upon
that our
nysteries
at, while
iion palar

of both,
1, and an

bhe shep-

MtoMMMewiMMn

or TtlE SCANDAL Of

185

lierua, h*v« uprt-ml to all th. flock, i» it not hami^iat-
ing to reilect that the J«'\v who f^-lt arid !»howed
thvniftelves Bo j-mud of their impt'rfect diHpttiiiiation,
•ball one day rm in judgnuMit against us? —they who
will themsclvt'S be witnt'Hsed against by Nineveh uiid
the QiK en of Saba, for the pric« which they set upon
human wisdom and exhortation. But where, you
will perhaps avk me, are the proofs that wo appear
scandnliztii \'lth the sublime doctrines of Chri«tauity ?
I answer tht v^ ^m manifold. And fii-st let me ask
you, wh./ do y a to prove that you love and value
them? 1 speak not now of the unbeliever; I mean
not *'• contend with such as call themselves unsatisfied
with tbe evidence of our faith.

But we who profess to hold the truth, and conse-
quently to esK^ni it, do we take much pains to
manifest our feelings? Lovo is a jealous emotion : it
betrays itself unwittingly in a thousand ways. It lets
no word escape unnoticed which disparages its object:
it is ever armed, although only defensively ; and fears
no contest, be the foe ever so dreadful. It is of its
nature given to discourse much on those things which
it follows and esteems. It is artful and ingenious to
discover the way, whereby its own feelings may be
multiplied in othei-s, and its own quality become uni-
vereal. It oft«m wearies people by persevering m\-
porlunity in its one object and thought. Now, if
these be the qualities of a real affection, ask yourselves
if your love of God's law and revelation so posseas
them ? Search well, if indeed it be a matter of much
investigation, whether your intercouree in society
often brings before your notice examples of such

ON TlIK iCAMDAL Of OlIBWT.

«ingl«-mliitlfl«l cluvotedneM to thU cauw. And ii
God'H Uw th^n well loved amongst tut Nhy, Ut lue
prol)f» tho matter d««per.

In there not nn Imhituttl shrinkinj? from any notice
of such subjects? U not a Imrrier placed hetweeo
the proprietieH of life and all conver««t;un uiM)n
them I And wherefore this I The Greeks and the
Romans in their polished asuemhlict diicoui-aed to
g«.ther of philosophy grave and severe, and next in
dignity ond in wiwlom to that of Christ. The Eastern
•ees no unbecoraingness in convening of his fake
religion before men, and practiVmg its duties in the
face of the world. We Christians, alone, are bashful
and timid in professing our admiration nd love for
the glorious revelation which God hath given us.
And this, my brethren, is tho flwt symptom of our
being scandalized with the Gospel,— our want of in-
terest in its regard. ^

For our blessed I^ord allows of no middle or indif
ferent state : " Ho that is not with me, is ogainst me."
(Luke, xi. 23.) Now as he who, during a contest,
makes no demonstration of partiality to one side or
another, nor once, either by deed, or word, or look, or
gesture, encourages either, but passes by or gazes on
as an uninterested spectator, will not be allowed to
■hare the victor's crown, or divide the spoils of tho
vanquished, so cannot he reasonably hope to be ac-
knowledged by Christ for His friend and ally, who
stands aloof from His side in cold indifference, during
the daily conflicts of His faith. But the sentence saith
more : that, as in civil contention, the indifferent citi-
een w)io looks on, when tho friends of order and jus-

wmam

^^. ^.

lAAAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

..:<'

'*.

% il^

A^.

A.-

1.0

I.I

1.25

1132

1.4

|2.5
2.2

1.6

v3r o>.

Photographic

bcisncBS
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEeSTSS,N.Y. 14SSQ

(716) 872-4503

•1

•Sj

... *

'^^\

■^'

''b

^£^.

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

. O^

i^r

ON TIIK SCANDAL OF CIIUI9T.

187

tice have girded on their swords, hath always been con-
sidered a fautor and abettor of the rebellious, so will
the Lord look upon those as having fallen oflF from
Him, and joined His enemies, who stand not up for
Him and His law.

And !ive you not, my brethren, in the midst of
such warfare, and in the constant duty of actively
striving for the faith ? Thanks indeed to the Lord of
Hosts, who hath strengthened the arms of His faithful
servants, the great triumph overcrested and rampant in-
fidelity has been achieved ; and our age no longer quails
before the hideous pestilence of its blasphemous breath.
But if th« great and more appalling conflict has ceased,
because •' the I^ord v iis hath killed the monster by
the breath of His month," there has arisen, as it weie,
fi*om its very blood when spilt, a creeping and annoy-
ing brood of foolish philosophies and empty theories,
which have transferred the war from the open field
wherein all the church contended, to the domestic cir-
cle, and the intercourse of individuals. Few will now
openly combat the great doctrines of faith, but rnanj
privately. None, perhaps, would join in the coai-se
and scoraful laugh against all things sacred, which re-
sounded through many parts of Europe in the last cen-
tury ; but the number is not small of those who smile
nt the credulity of others), and plausibly condemn their
belief, as only linked to less enlightened and more
grovelling minds. The rejection of some of the sub-
lime dogmas of Christianity, of the Trinity and Divin-
ity of Jeshs Christ, has awfully increased. And has
our active zeal in their defence increased in propor-
tion ? Have our earnestness and determination to con*

188

ON TriK SOATTOAL OP CHRIST.

tend for the faith of Christ— to contend, I mean, with
the meek yet powerful arms of the spirit— gained
strength in equal mens-.ire, with a strong desire to see
nil men freed from error and bowing in simplicity to
the doctrines of truth ? And if not, does not our
want of an active zeal effectually prove that we shrink
in cowardice from the cause of God : and what is this
but to be scandalized thereat ?

Bat pride will ever cloak itself in the outward ves-
ture of some better feeling. We say to ourselves,
" God forbid that we should do other than gloiy in
His doctrines and Jaws ; but they ai-e too sublime and
too holy to be mingled with our ordinary thoughts,
or paraded before the world. It is our deep awe and
veneration for them which make us shroud our feel-
ing's towards them from the gaze of men." Ah 1 my
brethren, did we, like the prophet, retire three times
a-day to the silence of our chamber to meditate on
the law of our God, and pray for the restoration oi
His kingdom (Dan. vi. 10), we might, indeed, hqve
some pretence for thinking that we separated our rev-
erence and love for them, from the daily feelings and
actions of our life, and considered the holy treasures
of our spiritual sanctuary too awfully venerable to be
exhibited in the profaner precincts of the outer court
Yet no, even thus should we descend from our close
and secret converse with the Law and its Giver, as
Moses did from the cloud of Horeb, bearing its tablets
openly upon our arras, and shedding from our very
countenance the mild and cheering light, caught
in such close and inspiiing^ communion. But for
us, so to speak, whose meditations are unfrequeut

■l«iMK«*l>

OK THK SCANDAL OV CHRIST.

189

[ mean, with
(irit — gained
desire to see
simplicity to
oea not our
at we shrink
what is this

utward ves-
ourselves,
lan gloiy in
sublime and
y thoughts,
sep awe and
id our feel-
" Ah! my
three times
neditate on
storation oi
adeed, h^ve
ted our rev-
-eelings and
ly treasures
erable to be
outer court
m our close
ta Giver, as
g its tablets
n our very
;ht, caught
u But for
unfrequeut

and tlistracted, and whose minds are sluggish,
and whose hearts are cold, and whose thoughts
of God and His commandments form the small-
eat of occupations, is nothing better than a mis-
erable delusion. Nay, it is much worse. For, so to
sftect is but to copy the conduct of the Israelites, who
so much offended God ; when, loving the flesh-pots of
I^ypt, and loathing the manna which came down to
them from heaven, they excused themselves even by
the delicacy of the food, as not suited to their coarser
palates. "Our soul now loatheth this light food."
(Num. xxi. 6.) Yes, so i; ia with us; this nourish-
ment of the soul which was not given to us by angels,
as was their manna and their law, but communicated to
us by the Incarnate Wisdom itself, is too ethereal, too
poor, too heavenly for us to relish : and wo pretend
this as an excuse for not loving it more. " Our soul
hath a loathing of this light food," The knowledge of
God's law and will, the study of His truths and mani-
festations, the real support of a mind and soul that
actually looks upwards to a higher sphere, are ever
postponed to the frivolous occupations or pursuits of
the world : and we shelter oureelves beneath the pal-
try excuse, that they belong to w sphere too elevated
for the mind unceasingly to revolve in.

And 38 not this to take scandal at that very quality
of God's truth which renders it most worthy of His
Name? Wherefore was a subliraer revelation made
to man, save to enable him, by the elevation of his
powers, to turn his thoughts, which sin had bowed
down unto the earth, upwards towards heaven; to
raise the flame of all his spiiitual movements into a

■•MMl

109

ON TtlK SCANDAL OK CHRIST.

higher level, and cause them to mingle, in glad and
easy aapirations, with an order of intelligence, from
which his fall had, till then, excluded him? It was
precisely that we, who believe in the sublime truths
thus revealed, should have ever before us a more ex-
tended view of the providential scheme, devised by
infinite love, in favor of man, with all the stirring
motives and principles of action which its knowledge
must inspire ; and that this knowledge, and its consb-
quent impulses, should pervade the ven' constitution
of society, and form the very spring and regulator
of every Christian mind. And yet, thus elevated
above the world, instead of our contemplating it with
the eye of faith, and considering it a school wherein
lessons of the highest order are taught, we busy our-
selves with the paltry interests that surround us, and
take an active part in their passing pleasures ; thus
resembling the recreant prophet, who, neglecting the
marvellous work of grace and mercy which was going
on in the city below him, was onl- engaged in watch-
ing the growth of the perishat. gourd which shel-
tered him from the heat.

Do you not see how ungrateful is the pretence, that
religion is not the constant object of our convei-satiott
and thought, on account of its sublimity and supeH-
ority to man's conceptions 1— and how paltry, tool
Is not the sun too bright for his eye, and yet, doth he
shut it to its lustre, and does he not look at all things
through that which, if gazed on, would blind him!
Is not the ocean too deep for his lines, and yet, doth
he forbear to seek riches in its gulphs, or to pui-sne
his desires through iU billows ? Is not the home of

-mi ri'irTitw^f ■'n--T— r'" ' ''''->"■'-"■*''' ^"'

•^'iftrntetsi

iSSESSQpMMP^B

Olf THK SCAITDAL OF CnRWT.

101

n i^lad and
jfence, from
n? It wa«
lime truths
a more ex-
devised by
the Btirring
knowledge
id its oonsb-
constitotion
id regulator
U3 elevated
»ting it with
lool wherein
'6 busy our-
lund us, and
isures; thus
iglecting the
nh was going
ed in watch-
which shel-

iretence, that

convereation

T and supeii-

paltry, tool

yet, doth he

at all things

I blind himt

md yet, doth

or to pni-sne

the home of

the nearest star too remote for his meftunrement, and
is not the arch of heaven too vjwt for his span ; and
yet, doth he not, in soul, fly thither, and love them
the more for the expanse of sublime conception and
tender feeling in which he is there lost ? Was not
man bom to soar, was not his soul created a spirit,
and were not his desires winged, that they might s»-
pire, and naturally rise, to thoughts and ideas of that
highest sphflr^ to which they are destined ? If, then,
in all things eliie, their greatness, and majesty, and in»
oomprehensible^iess, do no ways deter us from attempt-
ing or using them, so should it be with those spiritual
elements, that w^i9 made for the spirit's occupation.

But, my brethren, let us now examine ourselves a
little closer. Do yon still think, after what hath been
laid, that you shrink not from Christ's Gospel, and
that you show no weakness in its cause i You may
then place the point thus clearly at issue. It has, at
least, been shown, how little fervor we display in the
cause of religion, how little we speak and converse of
it, how seldom we defend it, how unintentionally we
betray our want of feel ing. in favor of those very qual-
ities which form its chiefest worth and recommenda-
tion. Now, such we are, where all that surrounds us
it^in our favor, where many even think alike regard-
ing it, and where the applause and esteem of the vir-
toous, at least, would reward our efforts. If such,
then, we be in time of calm, what should we have
been amidst trial and tribulation ? Should >ve have
meritod tfie blessings pronounced on those who are
not scandalized in Jesus, when to own Him brought
with it suffering, disgrace, and death? Would the

-J

•I > II irwi

109

OV TlIK SOAKDAX. Of CnHWR

Gospel havo been preached, or Chnstianity eatab*
llshed, Lad tho task been supported by no better
spirit, by no greater fervor, than wo exhibit, merely
to preserve it I Listen to the apostle of the Gentiles :
" I am ready," he saith, " to preach the Gospel to you
also who are at Rome, for I rtm not ashamed of the
Gospel." (Rom. i. 15, 16.) And yet that Gospel wm
to hira as a fetter to his feet and manacles to his
hands, and a yoke of iron around his neck, of which
he elsewhere writes, that he labored in it " even unto
chains, as an evil-doer." (2 Tim. ii. «.) He was not
ashamed of the Gospel, nor of preaching it in Rome,
where his preaching would bring him not only bonds
and proscription, bat torment and death. He was
not ashamed of the Gospel, nor of preaching it amidst
the scoffing sages of the Athenian council ; no, nor of
openly announcing its most sublime and trying doc-
trines, or of boldly expounding its stern morality, to
the proud and debauched Festus, on his judgment-
seat 1 Ah 1 he, in sooth, was not scandalized in Jesus ;
he loved His doctrine, and he cherished it, and he de-
fended it, in the face of men ; yea, and in the face of
death ; for he, moreover, was not scandalized at the
humiliations "of his Master, or the ignominies of His
cross. And this is the second scandal into which I
have said we are liable to fall.

If it was a sad reflection that one day the Jew shall
rise in judgment against us, because he loved and
openly professed the imperfect law which God had
given him, while we were ashamed of that sublimer
one wherewith we have been blessed, I fear that a
bitterer reflection here awaiteth us, regarding the

ity eBtab-
10 bett«r
It, merely
Gentilett :
pel to you
ed of the
ospel was
lee to his
of which
even unto
3 was not
; in Rome,
nly bonds
He was
; it amidst
no, nor of
rying doc-
lorality, to
judgment-
I in Jesus ;
and he de-
he face of
Bed at the
ies of His

which I

1 Jew shall
loved and
t God had
t sublimer
gar that a
u'ding the

OW Tire SCANDAL OF CHRTBT.

19S

second offence into which we fall: for, hero the
heathen will justly take up his testimony against us,
and say: "The gods which I worehipped were but
the likeness of sinful man ; in the vanity and blind-
ness of my heart I clothed them with all the vice of
their adorers; I imagine rtiem ambitious, cruel, and
revengeful; given to their lusts, proud, and conten-
tious. But, having thus named them ray gods, I was
not ashamed of them ; I decked them out in gold, and
silver, and precious stones ; 1 created the arts to em-
bellish thero, and left to posterity splendid memorials
of my fond belief; I sang their praises in my daily
songs, and I made them the theme of every labored
composition. But you, Christians; you who had a
God among you, pure and without stain — the type of
our nature in its most faultless conception — the ideal
of all that is noble, exalted, divine in man : how do
you honor Him, or even show Him respect I Is He,
or are His virtues and beautiful qualities, half as much
in your mouths as were in mine the false deities of
Olympus or of Helicon 1 Or rather, is it not too true,
and too evident, that when you wish to embody,
through art, the ideal of comeliness in feature or in
mind, yoa still go, as I used to do, to the sculptor, and
bid him carve, as ornaments to your halls, a voiceless
Apollo, or an uninspired Muse ?"

My brethren, even in this lowest form of reverence
to our humble and afflicted Lord, do we fall below the
ancient pagan in avowed honor for Him. But I must
be allowed to distinguish between two classes of
Christians differing widely in this respect.

In this capital of the Catholic world, the heathen

^:fga

mf^^M)/^

194

OK TOT SCANDAL OF CnHBT.

could not utter that reproach. Its monumentu, lU
public place*, and its piivate houBcn, exhibit fenrlesHly
t^e symbols of our religion, and of it« Founder in Ilin
lowlineiH and sufferings. The cross welcomes you at
the approach to every hamlet ; the atatians of Hui
Passion represent His ascent to Calvary, at every
steep acclivity leading to & church ; His helpless in-
fancy, in the arms of His mother, stands fua'th promi-
nently at the comer of almost ev«ry thoroughfare.
These and other countless demonstrations of pious
faith, show to the stranger that he is not only in a
Christian city, but in one which demonstrates its
Christianity by these very characteristics that the
GoHt>el describes as truly belonging to it.

For you may wander all day through the squares
and streets of Rome, without meeting a single repre*
sentation of our Lord's resurrection, or of His ascen-
sion, or of any of His wonderful works, or " later glo-
ries." But of Him falling under His cross, or struck
and buflfetted, and crucified, in other words, of the
" scandal of the cross," you cannot vbit the glorious
amphitheatre of Titus* without evidence that ihia peo-
ple is not ashamed.

But is that stranger^nation, which wanders. through
its streets in search of w^hatever is beautiful in its
completeness ., majestic in its ruin, not so ashamed ?
Were a Hindoo or a Mohammedan to spend days in
London, would he meet one object, beyond the bare
symbol on the towers of churches, which speaks not
to his sense, or mind, that would teach him that its
inhabitants honored and loved their Lord, the head of

* The ColiMenm, round which are painted the Stations at the CroH.

■ ■mrnnmrtiniinimliini

ii wmn iifc.ii K ii n i i Mlw i i n i I —faaitatmi/gf

ON Till ncAKDAL OF cnmnT.

105

unientM, itl
it f«ftrl«»Hly
n<ier in Hm
tneit you at
»ns of llifl
', at every
belplem in-
LU'th promi>
oroughfai'e.
IS of piout
t only in a
astrntes ita
I that the

he squares
ingle repro-
His asceor
" later glo-
I, or struck
>rds, of the
he glorious
at this peo-

TS . through
tiful in its
I ashamed?
nd days in
d the bare
speaks not
im that its
the head of

f theCroM.

their religion, on account of Hit abjection, His igno^
miny, IHh pains and torments, and His death? And
even here, do not too many of our fellow-coun*
trymen express abhorrence of the visible proofs to
which I hav« alluded, of honor and devotion towards
our benign Saviour in His passion ?•

But, dear brethren, I am dwelling on the lowest
standard of honor for Him. How bold and how prac-
tical are these two sayings of 8t Paul :— First : " God
forbid that I should glory, save only in the cross
of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Gal. vi. 14); Second:
" "Willingly, therefore, will I glory in ray infirmities,
that the power of Christ may dwell within me." (2
Cor. xii. 9.)

Astonishing words, and to the sense of man scarcely
reconcilable I For the apostle saith, that he will glory
in his own weaknesses, while he has solemnly depre-
cated the thought of gloiying in anything save the
cross of our Lord Jesurf Christ. Are then our infirm-
itiM of body and mind so unified, incoi-porated, iden-
tified, with the cross of Christ, that to glory in them,
is to glory in this? Most certainly, my brethren,
these texts combined can convey to us no other mean-
ing. Nay, the second of them nays it all : St Paul
declares that he will " gloi^ in his infirmities, that the
power of Christ might dwell in him." And what is
"the power of Christ"? Nothing, surely, else but
what he calls by that name — that cross which was to
the Jews "a stumbling-block," but to us "the power
of God." 8t Paul then clearly believed that afflic-
tion, penury, losses, calumnies, persecutions, and unjust
death, received a consecration fi-om the crot» of Christ,

WMNilAa

HHI

196

ON THl 80AKDAL Of OnRWT.

which nnlted them so intimately with \h» m. re^•I^g^
that they were honorable, and gloi-ifying, a. it Uw own.
Now, b this the f»3cling or thought of modern Chn*.
tianityl Patience and ronignation to God'n will, we
preach and jKwrly practice ; hut who ilartii nay to the
rich sufferer: "Glory; nijoico in y<.ur pa.n. ; be-
cauM through them the power of Christ's cross dwell-
eth in you. Call your son* 'the meicies of Go , as
did Bt. John of the Cross," Who will venture to
preach in the hospital, to the sick, the . maimed, the
crippled, that theirs is a place for i-ejoicing and exult-
ing- for there Christ reigns, with the magnificent
•centre of His glorious cross : and whuro He reigns,
there should be gladness, and even bli«8? Even where
the "angel of Satan buffetteth" through "the sting of
the flesh," and the apostle prays that it may deport
from him, our Lord refuses : because His grace suffi-
ceth, and power is shown forth more perfectly in weak-

ness. (2 Cor. xii. 1.) , . ., . i i

No, indeed, we are far from reaching the standorit
of the Gospel, on this moving subject. We do not
wish to be too much like our divine Saviour. We
would gladly resemble Him in His virtues and graces
in His gentleness ond meekness, in His kindness and
tenderness, in his wisdom and prudence-in a word,
in whatever is noble, amiable, pleasing before men;
but certainly not in His homelessness ond dereliction,
in His destitution and hunger, in His persecution by
tongue and arm; in what would have made Him but
little popular, little loved in the modem worid.

^ruth, indeed, compels me to say it: we shrink from
too close a resemblance to our heavenly Master in all

Off TltK g€ANl)AL Or OIIKMT.

lOT

Hiiiruringfi,
fllinown.
ern Chri»«
M will, w«
wiy to tli«
jmins ; W
r(>iw tlwell-
f (i>',' a*
rcjituro to
aimed, the
Riul exult-
nagiiiflcent
He reigns,
2ven where
the stiug of
lay tlejmrt
grace suffli'
tly in weak-

le standai'd
We do not
viour. We
and graces,
ndoess and
-in a word,
)efore men;
dereliction,
reecution by
de Him but
irorld.

shrink from
Vlaster in all

that rognrd* hi« most |wculiar distinctivci. We do
not wish, nor do wo like, to lie at "a l«j>er, a man of
BorrowM, as one struck by (}'.kI, and humbled ; m ono
in whom there in no comelin^sft or beauty ; ae a stunted
shrub, trmlden under foot and despi«ed." (Is. liii.)
The cross w a stumbling-block to us as to the Jews; .
we do not glory in Hut crosH, or in our own infirmities.

Thnnk Ood, however, in His Church there has eve**
been that love of Jesus Christ in His abjection and
suffering, and the desire to resemble Him, kept vivid
and verdant through a long line of saintt. After the
age of the martyrs, who best resemble Ilim, there ger-
minated, as if from the foot of the cross, that succes-
sion of holy religious, who, after resigning rank, even
regal, entered the monastic life, to swell that glorious
army of the cross which, in poverty and obtMlience,
has, from age to age, fought against the world, and
vanquished it

Such was holy St. Francis, who bad no love and no
desire bat to show forth, in his very l>ody, Chi-ist, and
Him crucified ; in cold, in' hunger, in nakedness, and
in Bolitade and in meditation; till God gave him a
still more singular conformity with the veiy wounds
of his crncified Lord.

Such was the blessed and dear St. Elizabeth, who
honored poverty and sores so tenderly, os to place a
leper in the royal bed, which, whon her indignant lord
uncovered, he found there the Lord of lords whom the
poor outcast symbolised better than he did, thorn-
crowned and wounded. And after his death, she
showed how she could glory in her own suffering, un-
der every trial and mortifying humiliation.

iAMk.

.^ff^^'' |i

- fj

m^^m

198

OM THE SCANDAL OF CHRIST.

Such, finally, to come nearer to our own times, was
tlie venerable Benedict Joseph Labre,whom the Church
will probably one day raise to the honors of canoniza-
tion, ttough some yet remember him in this city
(Rome) a poor mendicant, begging his bread, and im-
itating voluntarily the poverty of his divine Master.

A celebrated modern writer, not distinguished by
any strong Christian feelings, has observed, that the
most daring and wonderful characteristic of Chratian-
ity, was its casting a veil of holiness over all that the
world and human nature recoil from, and exalting it
above what th.ey love and covet.

And it is so, my brethren ; paganism never exhibited
the least respect for poverty, or the least aflFection for
suffering, apart from personal ties. No hospitals, no
nursing of this sick, no love for widows or orphans, no
care for the poor, except to pi-ess them into the service
of the State. Scorn, contempt, severity, cruelty — such
were the natural portioa of the destitute. Next tx)
crime, perhaps on a level with it, was misfortune.

After the priest of the Capitol, the Levite of the
Temole passed, almost equally unheeding. The
Jewish law, the law of God, inculcated kindness,
charity, love. Alms were a duty ; the cause of the
widow atid the orphan were put under divine pro-
tection ; the poor mendicant was not tc be passed
by, nor the naked left unclothed, nor the hungry
unfed. But there was no brightness shed on the coun-
tenance of the poor, no songs of angels chsered hb
lonely couch.

Then came, at last Jeans of Nazareth, an infant
laid on straw, and lodged in a stable. Poverty and

'" •<••' '- m « immmmmiimmmt0mmmix j. ' m me m pm

ON THE SCANDAL OF CUEIST.

times, was
the Church
)f canoniza-
{ thiB city
id, and im-
3 Master,
^uished by
}, that the
r Chriatian-
dl that the
exalting it

[ exhibited
ffection for
capitals, no
trphans, no
the service
elty — such
. Next to
rtane.
nte of the
Ing. The
. kindness,
use of the
livine pro-
be passed
ho hungry
a the coun-
hsered his

an infant
overty and

affliction are the firet welcomes Ha receives on earth.
These precede the Magics presents. Yes, He is poor ;
His mother is poor; His reputed, father is poor.
And afterwards His apostles are poor, and His disci-
ples, and His chosen associates. Then He boldly
preaches poverty, and denounces riches: bids His
rich followers sell their property if they wished to
enter His kingdom ; and bids His chosen ones rejoice
when they want all things, and when the world hates
them.

Such are the three stages through which afflicted
humanity has had to pass. In the first, scorned and
anpitied ; in the second, tolerated and compassionated ;
in the third, loved and exalted. Yes, loved upon
earth by the Son of God from Bethlehem to Calvary,
from the manger to the cross; loved in retirement,
loved in public life ; loved amidst publicans and sin-
ners, loved among Pharisees and Rulers ; loved when
urged to become king, loved when proclaimed one,
naked on the cross; and so bome upwards, and
enthroned with Him, at the right hand of His
Father.

And there surely may He well say : " Blessed is he
who is not scandalized in me !" — not scandalized in
the weakness of a human body, transcending in glory
the brightest spirit in the angelic choir : wounds and
rents in a Man's flesh more radiant than the very stars
in Mary's crown I Who will, or can, be scandalized
at these ? And yet that flesh is of earth, and those
wounds were inflicted upon earth, " in the house of
them that loved Him." (Zac. xiii. 6.)

No; we are scandalized or shocked at nothing that

imt.

asc

400

ON TlIE SCANDAL OF CIiniST.

fjMP

is blight or glorious — not even at those forms, or
ucars of hnmanity, in which, when bare, and mocked
at, and bleeding on earth, we dare not glory. Yet,
my brethren, what bore up so high that hunger-worn
and attenuated form, with its bleeding and pleading
gashes ? Not the pomp of this world, nor its honors,
nor its affluence, nor its own perfect comeliness. They
were the buflfet and the scourge, the nails and the
lance, the shroud and the cross, beyond all, which
were as wings to raise that blessed Humanity above
Piincipalities and Powei-s; they formed the fieiy
chariot of His triumph to the eternal Heaven of
heavens.

And how, deai' brethren? You have heard it fi-om
St. Paul, when he told you thrt " Christ crucified, the
stumbling-block of the Jews, is Hie power of God."
(1 Cor. I 23.) For it is in Him crucified that aie all
the might of our faith and the firmness of our hopes.
He redeemed us on Calvary, and not on Thabor. He
sendeth forth His apostles to travel over the whole
earth without even a staff; to build thousands of
churches without a purae ; to fight and conquer an
empire, never before, or since, equalled vl power,
matched with it as sheep are with wolves.

Beverse for a moment this order of things, as is done
in our times. It is no satire, no, nor envious parallel
that I am going to place before you. Let us imagine
some missionary going out from some society in our
country, to preach the Gospel to the benighted inhab-
itants of interior Africa, or of some coral reef in the
ocean. It is fctr from improbable that such a one,
who may not have become poorer by relinquishing his

•Mm

forma, or
id mocked
ioiy. Yet,
inger-wovn
d pleading
its honors,
ess. They
Is and the

all, which
inity above

the fiery
Heaven of

ard it fix>m
iicified, the
r of God."
that are all
' our hopes,
labor. He

the whole
ousands of
conquer an

ill power,

8, as is done
)U8 parallel
us imagine
lety in our
hted inhab-
reef in the
iuch a one,
quishing his

ON THE SCANDAL 01* CHRIST.

201

paternal nets, would be addressed in terms not unlike
these : —

" You are about to carry the Gospel light to nations
sitting in darkness. But while you will bear in one
hand the torch of truth, you will carry in the other
the lamp of civilization ; nnd the two flames will min-
gle into one — the light of wisdom. The people, su-
premely ignorant of all things, without science, or even
an alphabet, will soon acquire a respect for you, so
much better instructed, so much more highly oultiva-
ted ; they will Ibten to your words with docility ; they
will accept your assurance for what they do not see
or comprehend, on the warranty of that knowledge
which you will exhibit concerning visible and common
things. They are indeed jealous, savage, and inhuman,
but fear not The British name is known there, and
is a shield and a charm among the most barbarous
nations ; yon will land under the shadow of its pro-
tecting standard, flashing above the huge vessel, which
will overawe any attempt at violence, and yet, by its
wonderful mechanism, subdue the intellect of the sav-
age, and prove your claims to a superior condition in
the scale of human nature, and your right to be
heard."*

Such a charge would not seem extravagant. Yet,
ho¥r we must invert the Scriptures to give it weight

* A few jtm agOb s iigtdiarj at i\^ Enfl^ttih EatablialuneBt, leotnriBg in
• giwt mwnfMtnriag town, endeavored to show that miimdea were ifo
longer needed t^ the minionary to lavagu oouutrics ; becaoae adence and
mecha^iam, as poaaeaaed bjr oa, were anflclent to eatr.bliah the teacher's
claim to be hoard, aa bearer of hia high meaimge. Ho mentioned the ateam
engine aa thua having taken the place of healing, or other miracnloaa evi.
denoea of a divine miaaion.

l#':

S09

ON THE SCANDAL OF CHRIST.

How must St. Paul be read to support it ? Thus—
"The wise things of this wtorld hath God chosen, that
He may confound the foolish; and the strong things,
that He may confound the weak ; and the things that
•re, that He may confound those that are not"

But Jesus Christ spake not, and did not, thus. I^et
us, on the other hand, imagine St Peter and St Paul,
with, perhaps, Aquila and Prisca, and Linus and Clem-
ent, standing at the gate of this city, the fisherman
and the tent-maker, in their outlandish uncouth garbs,
looking through the lines of the ferocious guards into
its hard, ungenial heart Patricians and ladies of high-
est rank ; corrupted citizens, steeped in idleness and
lujrary ; philosophers and sophists, orators and poets,
with an imperial court uniting eveiy element of man's
highest powers and attainments : such are the inhabi-
tants : while every material object exhibits grandeur
or beauty, whatever can excite admiration, or inspire
attachment to things of this earth. It is to these men
that they are sent, to induce them to uproot and oast
off all these feelings.

la it on a fool's errand that they are come 1 Shall
they turn back, or, like Jonas, enter in and boldly
preach penance, or the wrath to come ?

If their steps faltered for a moment, and they re-
quired encouragement, we may easily imagine such
words as these to have come down from Heaven ; or
rather the remembrance of them to have echoed in
their hearts :—" Fear not, little flock, for it hath well
pleased your Father to give you a kingdom." (Luke,
aril 82.)

Yea, this kingdom ; this empire at whose gate ye

WiWiit*nMNi<w«ntw4Mi«<^^^

mmbMRbMmr.-i

? Thuft—
hosen, that
)Dg things,
things that
not."

thus. Let
id St. Pad,
1 and Cltim-
I flsherman
outh garbs,
guards into
lies of higb-
ilcness and
and poets,
snt of man^s
the inhabi-
■a grandeur
1, or inspire
o these men
ot and oast

mel Shall
and boldly

nd they re-
lagine such
Heaven; or
9 ecboed in
it hath well
(Luke,

083 gate ye

OK THE SCANDAL OF CHRIHT.

203

itand. Go on, and fear not, little flock. This city is
wise, and you are foolish ; it is strong, and you weak ;
it great, you little ; it rich, you poor ; it noble, you
abject. But remember, again, this city, and the em-
pire which it commands, is as the huge mass, inert
and helpless ; you the small handful of leaven to be
thrown into it, and ferment it. It is as a corrupting
and perishing provision for the grave ; you are the
few grains of sidt that will refreshen it In both, it is
the lesoer that overcomes and transmutes the greater.

Thank God, my brethren, tliat it was so then ; or
the world would never have been converted. For the
little flock walked on ; that loathsome heap of pagan
corruption was salted ; that mass of lifeless learning
was fermented ; and Christian civilization, and Chris-
tian wisdom, sprang from the quickened, re-animated
decay.

And " the kingdom" became Peter's, and this city,
as its capital. But it was from a cross that he ruled
over it. He bore to the end the scandal of that cross,
■which his good Master told him, too truly, would at
first make him fly. Instead of its being his stumbling-
block, it became, and remained, his strength ; and he
bequeathed to imperial Rome, for ever, the two-fold
legacy of the Wisdom of God, and the Power of God
which are in Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. Blessed
is he who is not scandalized in either.

SERMON X.
trittttitrlnt ti ttit (Rtm.*

QAh. vi. 14.

"Qod teUd that I ilioald glory, mto only in the croa of our Lord
JonuChiiat"

To tboee, dear brethren, who were witneases of the
Bcenes which the Church is now about to commemo-
rate, thei-e must have appeared a strange and almost
unnatural contrast between the triumphal entry our
blessed Saviour made this day into Jerusalem, and the
sad close of His agonizing sufferings upon Calvary.
How many may have been tempted in their folly to
say, when they saw Him stretched as a victim on the
cross: "How little, on the firet day of the week, did
He expect to meet so ignominious an end 1 " How
would they be able to reconcile in their minds, with
foreknowledge of His subsequent death upon that
cross, His entiy into Jerusalem upon the first day of
that eventful week, when the garments of mcfn were
strewn upon His path, when palms of triumph were
waved around Him, and hoaannas of welcome echoed
through the air I Oh, how little indeed could any one
have anticipated that it would all come to this deso-
late close I

But any one endowed with Christian foresight, any

• DdiTcnd »t St. Geoige'a Gathednl, oo PiObi Simday, 1848.

MliiilMMaiHMiHtiMiriH^^

f our Laid

iBses of the
coramemo-
and almost
I entry our
em, and the
m Cnlvaiy.
eir folly to
ctim on the
3 week, did
id 1 " How
minds, with
upon that
firat day of
f mcfn were
umph were
:ome echoed
»uld any one
D this deso-

►r^ight, any

iM,j, 1849.

TRIUMPHS OF TUS CROeS.

205

one who contemplated these scenes in the spirit of St.
Paul, expressed in the words of my text, would in-
deed have well comprehended, that it was but one
mystery, from first to last ; that He, who was this day
riding into Jerusalem amid the congratulations of the
people, knew full well that those same voices that were
that day raised in rejoicing, would, in five days more,
swell the outcry that raised Him to the cross. Even we,
my brethren, well know that in the course of a few
days our heads will be bowed down in grief and sym-
pathy for our blessed Redeemer's suflTerings ; we fore-
see full well that we shall cast ourselves in sad and
naked sorrow upon the pavement of this church, and
weep with the daughters of Jerusalem for Him, treas-
ure of our heai't's love, scorned, persecuted, and
bruised, the object of hatred and contempt, proceed-
ing with faint and weary steps to complete His sacri-
fice on Calvary. And yet, though foreseeing and
knowing all this, we cannot resist raising our heads in
triumph this day, and hailing with holy joy oar bless-
ed Redeemer, not merely by words, but by acts of
Bolenm worship, imitative as far as possible of the
piety of those who then surrounded Him, and wel-
comed Him, as the King of Sion and the Lord of
Israel. Yes, because we know what St. Paul knew,
what the true believer must then have known, that
this only triumph which Jesus permitted Himself on
earth, was in truth but the first of one unbroken
chain of conquests, the first step in a great work, that
was to be completely crowned with victory. And
even as He came into Jerusalem, meekly riding on an
ass, so in the couree of time, and through successive

toe

TRIUMPHS OF TITB OROm.

ages, entered He into royal and inoperial cities, and
iuccemfnlly claimed them for His own, until H*» took
unto Himself the mlo of the kingdoms of this vrorld.
That triumph, too, was but the type of another and
greater, when He is to appear glorious among the
choir of angels ; and the sign of the Son of Man is to
be seen triumphant in the heavens. Yes, the triumph
of this day is the triumph of the cross. It is the
triumph of Christ crucified ; it is the triumph, indeed,
of the law of humiliation ; but, at the same time, it is
the triumph of the New Law of God. Oh, then, on
this day, God forbid that J should glory in aught save
the cross of our Lord Jesa^ Christ, or that I should
speak to you on this the first evening of a solenm
period, commemorative of our Saviour's Passion, of
anything else than of that which should absorb our
thoughts, which should engross our affections through-
out tins holy season 1

Yes, my brethren, this is the day on whicl the cross
of Chiist is to be contemplated triumphant ; as on
Friday next we shall have to dwell on its humiliation
and pain. I will speak to you, therefore, of the tri-
umph of the cross of Christ : and show you how from
this day, on which it began, it has endured in the
Church of God until our own time, as it will continue
to the end. I will show yon how the cross of Christ
was a cross of triumph in this world ; and how,
although it was the instrument of His sufferings, and
the altar of His sacrifice, it has literally conquered the
world, nay, become its very pride and glory — conquer^
ing it materially, conquering it morally, conquering it
spiritually.

""*i *

i cities, and

til He took

' this vrorld.

mother and

among the

)f Man is to

the triamph

It is the

nph, indeed,

le time, it is

3h, then, on

1 aaght save

lat I shonld

>f a solemn

Passion, of

absorb our

}ns through-

ici the cross
hant ; as on
humiliation
), of the tr^
u how from
ared in the
^ill continue
988 of Christ
; and how,
leringa, and
>nquered the
y — conquer*
>nqaering it

WfS^

TRIUKPHS OF rmt OROM.

SOT

The word of God has given us in an early page
(.Ind. ix.) a beautiful allegory, in which the trees of
the forest are represented as debating, one with the
othtir, who should be their king; and we might
almost, without a figure, make ourselves conceive that
there was some such contest in the days of our Ke-
deeraer. I would rather, however, place the thought
before you in a more simple and natural form. No
doubt, my brethren, there were in the forests of Jndea,
at the time of our blessed Saviour, many fair and
stately trees. There was the lofty and beautifully
tapering pine, that rosa above its fellows, and seemed
with its topm(»t branches to woo for itself the purer
atmosphere of heaven. There was the royal cedar,
that spread itself forth on every side, and covered
with its shadow a vast extent of land. We mav ira-
agine the proud possrasor of this noble growth of the
forest come, and, looking with complacency on the
riches which .he held, give orders as to how their
worth should be realized into wealth. He says to the
forester, " See that elegant and towering tree, which
has now reached the maturity of its growth, how
nobly will it rise above the splendid galley, and bear
itself, in the fell fury of the wind, without breaking
or bending, and carry the riches of the earth from one
flourishing port to another. Gut it down, and destine
it for this noble work. And this magnifloent cedar,
overcasting all around it with the solemnity of its
shade, worthy to have been built by Solomon into the
temple of God, such that David might have sung its
praises on his inspired lyre ; let it be carefully and
brilliantly polished, and embarked to send to the im-

'•V.HiKi'lf.f-ff,

S08

TRIUMFia or TUl OBOOt.

•*

porial city, there to adorn tho«e magnificent lialln, in
which all the splendor of Rome is gathc-rttd ; and
there, richly gilded and adorned, it shall be an object
of admiration for ages to come." " It is woll, my
lord," replies his servant, "but this strange, this
worthless tree, which seems presumptaously to spring
up, beneath the shadow of those splendid shnftn, what
■hall we do with it t for what shall it be destined ? it
is fitted for no great, no noble work." " Cut it down,
and, if of no other use, why, it will make a cross for
the first malefactor ! " Oh, strange counsels of men I
That soaring pine, perhaps, after a few years, dashed
the freight that it bore against the rocks, and rolled,
the worthless fragment of a wreck, upon the beach ;
and that noble cedar, which witnessed the revels of
imperial Rome, fell by the earthquake beneath the
arm of avenging justice, or in tlu' fire that the barba-
rian kindled iu those splendid halls, fell charred into
their heap of rains, and the winda of heaven wafted
its ashes over the land.

But that ignoble tree, that despised trank, which
men spurned as of no value save to be put to the
most ignominious of uses,-- oh I that tree, that cross
which upon Calvary bore the price of the world's re-
demption, ^at tree has been gathered up and treasurt>d
and enshrined, as though its every fragment was worth
more than gold ; yea, so far beyond it, that it would
be as the sin of Simon the magician to offer *the
world's treasure for one of its smallest portions. And
thus has this cross, this contemptible tree, risen above
all that the w^orld is worth, in value to the Christian
heart ; and not only now, but in every age, has it

ifeMMMMMiMMi

it hallo, ia
tiert)d ; and
lo au object
a well, my

raagu,

thb

y to Mpntig
ihaftM, what
Itistined t it
!ut it down,

a croM for
)l8 of mun !
lars, daahed
and roh<id,
the beach ;
10 reveli) of
>eneath the

the barba-
harred into
veu wafted

mnk, which
put to the
), that croaa
> world's re-
id treasurfd
t was worth
lat it would
;o offer *the
doDS. And
risen above
le Christian
age, has it

TKiUMi'ita or TiiB cBoaai

209

been considm-ed worth all that tho world doat« and
iet« iU heart on. For that wood, that materinl wood
of the cross of Christ, an empresn crotwwd the was, and
searched among the silent tombs of the doatl. For
that which was thonght a vile and co.itemptible thing,
war ^)uilt a magnificent church on Mount Sion. For
that wood, the Emperor Ileraclius made war against
the King of Persia ; and when he had recovered it,
bore it, as his Master had before^ barefoot, and in an
humble garb, to Calvary. For that trse, Constan.
tine, the great emperor, built a most valuable church,
yet standing among the ruins of the palaces of Rome,
and brought the very earth from our Saviour's own
land ; as though none other were worthy to be there,
save that upon which the precious fruit of redemptiou
had first fallen, in the life-giving blood of our blessed
Redeemer.

And from that time His Church aaa considered this
relic as one of the greatest treasures entrusted to her
keeping, and all in it have been ambitious of pos-
sessing but a small fragment thereof. Our own
country, too, saw some of its noblest fabrics dedicated
to religion, rise to the honor and the glory of that
holy rood of Christ. When thus we see what was
but a fragment of the tree of ignominy so valued,
that gold and precious stones, and whatsoever the
World most priaes, are deemed but worthy to form its
shrine and outward vesture, and noble temples piled
up with the richest materials and the noblest produc-
tions of art, thought fit only to house and shelter it ;
may we not truly say, that the very wood of Christ's
cross has achieved a triumph over the world, tramp-

SIO

TRiuMPiw or mt cnom.

llnpf nndor It, and mndflrinjif ttibjoct tntl ■ubwrvienfc
to itn'if, whnt f<iriun tho hoiiiit, ariil |Kinip, anil pride
of that world I And what wan our Savioar'i honora-
ble entry into JerunnUmi, hut tho firnt «ti»p in thi»
triunipluil progromi of His crow over all tho glob*,
•howing that it derived from Him a value beyond
all that earth can ponsenal And thun, even ma-
torially, haa the crow of Chruit triumphed over the
world.

But what is this, my brethren, compared with the
great moral triuinph which the cross of Christ haa
Achieved t Let us cast our eyes over the world imme-
diately after our blessed Saviour's glorious ascension to
Heaven. Vi'-s see going forth from the lan«l of Judea
a few radi and illiterate men, without fort.jne, with-
out station, without reputation, without estimation bo-
fore the world. I see one, like Bartholomew, go nn-
dnunted into the frozen regions of the north ; another,
like Thomas, penetrating amidst the effeminate peo-
ple of the south. I see James wandering through the
barbarian lands of the extreme west ; and Peter and
P&ul, anxious and thoughtful, no doubt, but still cidm
and confident, proceeding on th' r alertly hopeless
mission entrueied to them, and fftt^'*-!')" on foot ihi
imperial city, there about to coium-uco the work of
converting that immense and corrupt jMpulation.
They have been sent forth without scrip or staff; they
are poor in every way; they bring with them no
books of hidden lore; they employ no wonderful
flights of poetry or of eloquence, by which to con-
vinoe or to allure. Yet I see each of them surrounded
by a multitude eager to listen to his teaching, and no

vmoMPiiii or Tiip; cw

itilMArvient
), iinil prtild
ar'ii honor**
tep in thifl
the glob*,
luo l)«yond
, even m*-
id over ib«

(m1 with the
ChrtRt hM
rorld imm<^
Mcension to
ad of Jodea
trtjne, with-
timation }w-
new, go nn-
th ; another,
iminate \ieo
through the
1 Peter and
tut still cidin
•tly hopeless
on foot ihfi
the work of
population,
r stafT; they
ith them no

wonderful
bicb to eon-

1 surrounded
hing, and no

111

less (>agor to practi.ie what is taught I see in thos«
fafitni^nJM^a of Armeuia th« royal pri{ic6fi>i knetil h«ft»re
the i^oor cniiii«ai*y of Gnlil«4>, and ntrvtch out ht?r
trem«s to he out o{V, that she may thus runonncA every
love hut the One that wm not of earth. I see the
learned men of thosb southern regions, wedded, by
ages of solemn sjwcnlAlion, to the religious traditions
of their country, give them up willingly, desiroun no
longer to bathe in their sacred rivers, but to bo washed
in the laver of salvation, by the word of God'i mini»>
ter. And in Rome I see, not merely the learned phi*
losophera anxious to become acquainttul with this new
religious system ; not only the virtuous household of
a Pudens, or other senator, wherein purity and morali-
ty already prevailed, interested about the new doc-
trine ; but I see Nero himself, trembling upon his
throne, at the prospect of success which already shows
itself, in the simple teaching of these men. And
what is the lure, what is the bait, whereby they draw
thus abont them, and lead in willing captivity, these
subject nations ? Has the lyre of the fabulous Or>
pheus been put into the possession of him who has
travelled into Scytbia, so as to charm around him its
grim and savage tribes ? or has he who hath gone
into the south borne with him the sword of Alexan*
der, to subdue it8 effeminate population ? or have
they who penetrated the imperial city polished their
tongaes,' and prepared themselves well to Qatch the
ear of a voloptuous race, with a soft and flattering
philosophy? No, my brethren, each and all, however
different his missioQ, goes forth with but one charm, one
instrument of conquest, with bnt one augury of success.

■BJ

819

TRIUMPHS OF THK CROSS.

Each takes in his hand the cross of Christ, and
preaches, not the preverse words of human wisdom,
but Him, and Him crucified, alone. He raises alofb
thai cross, which is the symbol of patience and resig-
nation, which sanctifies humility and self-abasement,
which consecrates povrerty, and elevates into more
than a stoical endurance a renunciation of the things
of the world. "With this, and this alone, they wei*e
able to subdue the savage in the north, and the soft
half-civilized Brahmin in the south, and the luxurious,
haughty, and self-sufficient Roman ; — with one single
weapon, by the power of the cross, bringing them all
into subjection to Christ's law, making of them one
kingdom, but one empire, but one people, but one
Church, but one body, closely united to Him, its cruci-
fied Head. Thus, by degrees, in spite of every oppo-
sition of the world to Christ^ conquests, the day soon
comes when the glory of that cross covers the earth,
as the water covers the sea.

But a new generation thinks it necessary to unsheath
the sword and light up the faggot, in order to quench
at once this rising, as they deem it, superstition. Yet
in vain : that cross which a few years before was the
badge of ignominy, that cross which the Roman was
not allowed even to speak of, — ^the very name of which
was a word excluded from polished conversation, —
that orcis, upon which none but the slave was doomed
to die in the imperial city, becomes the very crowning
summit of the diadem of the Csesars. But, in effecting
this;^ in making this change through the whole earth,
in bringing all nations into this subjection, what a
variety of triumphs weie 'lecessary; in how many

►f Christ, and
man wisdom,
e raises aloft
uce and resig-
;lf-abasement,
SB into more
of the things
ne, they wei*e
, and the soft
the luxurious,
th one single
^ing them all
of them one
)ple, but one
dxm^ its cruci-
f every oppo-
the day soon
)ra the earth,

7 to unsheath
ler to quench
rstition. Yet
efore was the
e Roman was
lame of which
►nversation, —
3 was doomed
^ery crowning
it, in effecting
) whole earth,
ction, wliat a
n how many

TBIUMPirS or THE CROSS.

213

ways was the worid, in its affections, to be mortified,
to be annihilated, before it would wear that badge of
disgrace. Behold in mind the Christian of those days
brought before the tribunal of the emperor. See him
asked, with a haughty glance, a look, a tone, and ges^
ture that strike terror into the satellites around that
tribunal, " Who art thou, and what art thou ?» And
the questioned answers not in words, but as we fre-
quently read in the simple and genuine records of the
ancient martyrs, raising his hand, signs his forehead
or his entire body with the sign of the cross: and he
who sits oa the judgment-seat well understands its
meaning. It seems to say to him at once, "I am a
worahipper, I am a lover of Him who suffered upon
the cros9, and died on it, to purchase for me infinitely
more than thou canst do for me. I spurn the honor,
wealth, and station that thou pi-offerest, and I oonfi-
dently and lovingly cling to this sacred symbol, em-
blematic though it be, of what you call foolishness, of
that which you despise. It ateures me that by virtue
of the cross I shall be shielded from evil, that I shall
be able to do battle against the world in its most
fearftil shapes, to conquer it not only when it is allur-
ing and tempting, but when it crushes and destroys.
It tells me that I may mock at your boiling cauldrons,
at your heated gridirons, your ingenious racks, your
pointed swords, your sharpened hatchets, and the thou-
sand instruments of death that you have prepared. I
scorn all, and over all of them I will ride triumphant to
the heavenly Sion, because Christ my Saviour hath
triumphed before me: nay, I welcome these dreadful
forms of death, because they will bring me to Him

■■'■^

fl,^ TBIUMPHA OP THE CROSS.

who redeemed me on the cross." Yes, in that sign of
the cro# waa the profesBian of faith ; in that sign of
tiie cross was expression of hope: ip that sign of the
crosi was ohifit^ symbolised the most perfect For
this the CkAian martyr of old suffered and endured
all, because^is saw in angels' embrace the cross of
Ohri^ shining in the heavens, shedding forth^iays
into bis very heart, which warmed, and kindled, and
strengthened unto auirtyrdom, and made him despise
the tormente of this world, because Chiist had first
been cioicified'and died upon that cross.

This, too, was the strength of those, whom the ter-
rors of persecution drove forth from the haunts of
men. Go into those trackless deserts of Africa, through
which, in paasinp^, a conquering army would |ppn faint
^nd lose strength, and drop piecemeal and dissolve
amid the burning sands,— those sands which, before or
since, the industry of man never made to produce a
single blade of grass ; and see hundreds and thousands
of men either gathered together and living in common,
or each alone, in his silent cell, by some brackish foun-
tain, or beneath the shade of some solitary palm. See
them there, not for a few years, but through a long
life of seventy or eighty years, like Anthony or Hila-
lion. No splendid temples are there to excite their
devotion, no well-furnished library of books whence to
draw or improve their ascetic lore ; nay, scarcely have
many the power even to turn over the sacred volume,
tmd learn from its pages the heroic virtues that they
practise. But God gives them strength for this severe
and appai-ently unnatural seclusion. And what is its
source? Two broken reeds fastened together, and

-jrf*:

ii^_^ LjUJi^. .1-11-1 in I. I. I " '

TRIUMPHS OF THS CROSS.

916

t sign of
t sign of
n of tbe
jct For
endured
cross of
>rthii«»y8
lied, and
n despise
had first

I the tei>
aaunts of
h, through

rpn faint
dissolve
before or
produce a
thousands
I common,
kish foun*
aim. See
th a long
y or Hila-
ccite their
ivhence to
rcely have
d volume,
that they
^his severe
vbat is its
sther, and

-a^: ii

rudely fashioned into a cross, stand upon the fragment
of rock, before which the j^nchorite sitfe at his daily
labor. Or go io, and you will find the same sacred
symbol roughly cut in the rock of bis cell. Before
this he kneels, before this he prays, before this he
meditates; there he fills himself with the spirit of
Christ crucified, and strength and courage for forty or
fifty years of a life of solitude, and complete separation
from the world. He has trampled on that world, he
has triumphed over all its temptations, nourished only
and strengthened by that cross of Christ, which has
been the food of his pions thoughts, and a heavenly
manna in the wilderness, to his soul

And my brethren, thus might we proceed for age
after a^in contemplating the lives of those emin^t
Saints of God, who astonish ua by the brilliancy of
their virtues. In every one we shall find that the
cross was deeply engraven on their hearts ; that that
alone was their comfort in aflliction, their consolation
in hidden sorrow, their strength in weakness and temp-
tation. It was at the foot of the crucifix, that the
depths of Christian philosophy were explored, that
the purest light of Christian theology was sought and
obtained; and they who have thus studied, not in
themselves but in Christ crucified, have owned, like
the great angelic doctor of the Church, that from the
crucifix, rather than from the illumination of their own
minds, they drew their knowledge. And such have
ever been rewarded by the approving words, addressed
to them from the rood, " Thou hast written well of
Me ; what shall be thy reward ?"

But, my brethren, in every rank of life we see this

wmmtim

-wma^

mSm

216

TEIUMPira OP THE CROSS.

cross achieving new triumphs, accomplishing new won*
ders ; not only in the wilds of heathendom, but in the
deep recesses of the civilized heart, forming thus the
spiritual triumph of the cross of Christ. There have
been kings great and poweiful, surrounded by all that
could make even a throne more valuable ; not in days
such at these when a crown is but a painful bauble and
easily cast aside, but when a crown was, indeed, a
noble thing, and when kings were great and honored ;
yet even in those days kings would come to the foot
of the altar, and would there lay down their diadems,
and assume in its stead the religious cowl; and join-
ing the ranks of an austere community, would praise
God vrith those their poor brethren, and devote them-
selves to His service for the rest of their lives. And
what was this, my brethren, but a triumph of the
cross, what but an acknowledgment that it was bet-
ter to be like the King of Heaven than a king
of earth, better to be a worshipper at the cross of
Christ, than one of the noble and illustrious of earth ?
There have been, my brethren, in eveiy rank of
life,>_and this, in a Catholic pulpit, may be con-
sidered as almost common-place, — there have been
amongst those brought up in luxury and eveiy thing
that could wed them to the world, whether by the
gentleness of their sex or the tenderness of their edu-
cation, many who have fled from that woi-ld and its
flowery fascinations, and have chosen rather to tread
the rough, and thorny, and narrow path. And why ?
Because upon the summit of that sacred monnt to
which it leads, there was planted that cross of Christ
towai-ds which their looks ever turned ; nor were they

l i mn ».

r»l

TRIUMPHS OF THE iROtifi.

21Y

able to see around them aught that won their affec-
tions like thia. And therefore towards it they directed
their steps, in the lowly garb of religion, serving God
in humility and holy contemplation, or devoting them-
selves for their lives to the service of the poor and
sick, even as did their great model, the Man of sor-
rows, who expired on Calvary.

It would be an endless task, ray dearly beloved
brethren, to enumerate the multitude of ways in
which the cross of Christ has triumphed in the hearts
of men, triumphed over their weakness and tbeii*
strength, over the violence of their passions, and over
the feebleness of their natural dispositions. But
strange, indeed, would it be, if the Holy Catholic
Church did not, in a multitude of ways, prize and
honor by holy ceremonies this sacred emblem, which
i«k to her not merely a badge or ornament to crown
the outward pinnacle of the material temple, but an
emblem engraven on the heart, a staff to be grasped
by the dying man on his last journey, as a weapon
whereby he is to beat back his spiritual foes. And
what wonder that, 'vhere the cross of Christ has be-
come only a name, but is no longer a thing, whei-e it
is never brou-^ht before the minds or senses of the
people, there religion should have lost all feeling, all
idea of what is symbolized by the cross of Christ ;
that it should no longer, know anything of inward
mortification, or external penance ; that it should not
upderstand the meaning of control or subjection, or
desired humiliation ; that it should have destroyed all
traces of that inward and outward affection for the
cross, which shows itself in a thousand different devo-

•mm

218

TRIUMPHS OF THE CB08S.

tiona in tlie Holy Catholic Chnrch ; such, for instance,
as that which I rejoice to see has lately been intro-
duced into your Church, and is followed with so
much devotion, the Stations, or "Way of the Cross ;
that the cross should have erased to be clasped in the
hands, with the image of Christ crucified pressed to
the lips and the fluttering heart of the expiring
Christian. And what wonder that a religion like this
never should have brought forth a generous and
noble youth like St Aloysius, who renounced his pat-
rimony, his principality, his family alliances, to attend
thf sick in the hospital, and to die in the flower of
his youth, of contagion, caught by ministering to the
infected ? What wonder that such a system should
never have produced one man like St. Vincent of Paul,
who could spend his whole life in serving the least
ones of Christ, gathering up in the cold winter morn-
ings these nurslings of charity, outcasts from maternal
affection, thus becoming to them at once father and
mother, and educating them as if his own children ?
What wonder it never produced a man like St. John
of God, whose whole life was given to the most splen-
did and heroic works of charity, who became as a
fool for Christ, shut himself up day and night with the
sick, braved the flames to save them, and died poor
himself, because he sought no other reward than that
which is given to His servants by their crucified
Master ?

No, dear brethren, it is not wonderful, indeed, that
this should be the case; but the Catholic Church,
from the beginning, has set a value on the cross of
Christ, has treasured it up even in its very material sub-

liitf' p'-'— ----'■-'■•■--- , |J,,j,.j.i | .'?j-i--v.-...-^..-...w^^v.-.--.-i»-,.-.Hi»i,ta.v«,f „!■: .«•■■

■iiriiHHtfiiiinnKliilnllii* I'Mlii-nli

TRIUMPHS OP THK CR098.

219

for instance,
' been intro-
fvred with so
f the Cross;
ilasped in the
d pressed to
the expiring
gion like this
^enerons and
meed his pat-
ces, to attend
;he flower of
itering to the
^tem should
ncent of Paul,
ing the least

winter morn-
■rom raaternal
;e father and
wn children?

like St. John
he most splen-

became as a
night with the
nd died poor
ard than that
bheir crucified

1, indeed, that
holic Church,
a the cross of
J material sub-

stance, as more valuable than all earthly treasure, as
that whereby she has conquered the nations of the
world, and brought forth so many great, heroic, and
splendid specimens of charity and virtue. Oh ! it
would, indeed, be strange, if this Church did not,
when the time for the commemoration of our Saviour's
passion had come round, show in a thousand loving
ways, even in exterior forms, how her heart is entirely
in sympathy with her blessed Redeemer, and the
cross upon which He died. Hence, in the offices for
this week, there is a softened tone of joy and triumph,
in the Church's commemoration of the sufferings of
her Redeemer. While, indeed, she weeps and puts on
her garments of mourning, and speaks in soft and
tender words to her children, still in the gentle mosic
of her sweet tones, in the simple magnificence of her
worship, even in those impressive and solemn rites
which form the service of Friday, there is a mixture
of gladness, subdued, indeed, and as it were steeped in
grief; there is a smile that will ^ fain breakthrough
the teare that che sheds ; at thinking that after all He
who is thus humbled. He who is thus crushed beneath
the weight of contempt, pereecution, and suffering,
will break the chains of death and hell, and will again
be seated triumphantly upon His throne ; and will, by
means of this very ignominy, conquer His assailants,
and make friends of His foes. She rejoices in His
sufferings, because they are the sufferings of redemp-
tion. Her heart beats tenderly for His afflictions, be-
cause they are the afflictions of love ; and she looks
not merely with awe, but with complacency and soft
affection, upon the blood that flows from His manifold

»i " I I M II P

220

TBIUMPHS OF TH« 0ROB8.

wonnds, because they are the Btreami of life which
fill the cup of her salvation.

Truly, beloved brethi-en, these days are days of
•olemn and tender bat of real triumph to the spouse
of Christ. Oh 1 come then to thes^ holy offices with
spirits properly attuned to those deep and solemn
mysteries which we are about to commemorate, and
ready to beat in hai-mony with them. Come with a
desire to loam and to improve, and you will indeed
rejoice in spirit ; when., having purged yourselves dui^
ing these days of affliction from sin and all that is
displeasing to God, you will be able to join in the
triumphs and rejoicing of your divine Redeemer, as
He rises victorious over death, and opens to you the
gates of life. But, even in the midst of that exultar
tion and triumph, the cross shall not be forgotten ;
for as the Church duiing paschal time suppresses all
other commemorations in her daily offices, retaining
that of the cross alone, so when our blessed Redeemer
shows himself risen again to His apostles, lie desires
to be recognized as their Lord, their God, not by the
splendor which invests Him,— not the subtle energy
wherewith His glorified body can penetrate the closed
doora,— but by the marks of the nails in His hands
and feet, and by the precious wound in Hb side : thus
to show that, in His very glory, He wishes to be loved
even as on Calvaiy.

O blessed Jesus, may the image of these sacred
wounds, as expressed by the cross, never depart from
my thoughts. As it is a badge and privilege of the
exalted office, to which, most unworthy, I have been
raised, to wear ever upon my breast the figure of that

ki^^

^ ^r i ' l ' l i ll wiW l. W ' 'iB tl 'l

f.lfc

TBiDUpns or Tme obom.

391

f life which

are days of
o the spouse
' offices with

and solemn
3inorate, and
Come with a

will indeed
arselves dur-
d all that is

join in the
Eledeemer, as
IB to you the

that exultar
)e forgotten ;
mppreeses all
ces, retaining
ed Redeemer
B, lie desires
d, not by the
lubtle energy
Ate the closed
in His hands
[b side: thus
IS to be loved

these sacred
[• depart from
vilege of the
, I have been
figure of that

cross, and in it, as in a holy shrine, a fragment of that
blessed tree whereon Thou didst hang on Qolgotha,
so much more let the lively image of Thee crucified
dwell within my bosom, and be the source from
■which shall proceed every thought, and word, and
action of my ministry ! Let me preach Thee, and
Thee crucified, not the plausible doctrines of worldly
virtue and human philosophy. In prayer and medi-
tation let me ever have beforo me Thy likeness, as
Thou stretchest forth Thine arms to invite us to seek
mercy and to draw us into Thine embrace. Let my
Thabor be on Calvary; there it is best for me to
dwell. There, Thou hast prepared three tabernacles ;
one for such as, like Magdalen, have offended much,
bat love to weep at Thy blessed feet; one for
those who, like John, have wavered in steadfastness
for a moment, but long again to rest their head upon
Thy bosom ; and one whereinto only she may enter,
whose love burns without a reproach, whose heart,
always one r'ith Thine, finds its home in the centre of
Thine, fibre intertwined with fibre, till both are melt-
ed into one, in that furnace of sympathetic love.
With these favorites of the cross, let me ever, blessed
Saviour, remain in meditation and prayer, and loving
affection for Thy holy rood. I will venerate its very
substance, whenever presented to me, with deep and
solemn reverence. I will honor its image, wherever
offered to me, with lowly and respectful homage. But
still more I will hallow and love its spirit and inward
form, impressed on the heart, and shown forth in the
holiness of life. And oh ! divine Redeemer, from
Thy cross, Thy tme mercy-seat, look down in compaa-

■MrfAk

929

TRIUMPHS or TUK CROSS.

iion upon this, Thy pct ^ 1§. Ponr forth thence ftbnn-
dniitly the Btruanifl of bluBsiug, which flow from Thy
Bacred w^oundi. Accomplish within them, daring thif
week of forgiveness, the work which holy men hnve
so well begun,* that all may worthily partake of Thy
Paschal Feast. Plant Thy crews in every heart ; may
each one embrace it in life, may it embrace him in
death ; and may it be a beacon of salvation to his de-
parting sool, a crown of glory to bis immortal spirit 1
Amen.

• Alhidloc to Um MiMlon Jam flloMd bj the Fkthen of the Jostitata of
Chftrity.

■«MBa

hence aban*
r from Thy
daring thif
' men have
take of Thy
heart; may
race him in
>n to his de-
)rtal spiiitl

: the TiuUtata of

SERMON XI.

^rditntion on the f a^toti.

PmuF, IL a

* Ha bnmUed Hloiwlf, bMsumtng olwdlent onto death, arta th« dMth of

tb«) cruM."

Tmc very name, my brethren, which this Sunday
bears in the Calendar of the Catholic Church, pre-
scribes to ua.the solemn matter which should occupy
our thoughts, and will not allow us to seek around us
for other objects of instruction. For it hath its name
from the dolorons Passion of our dear Lord and
Saviour Christ Jesus ; and no other topic can be found
worthy to associate in our minds with the contempla-
tion of His dying hour. This is the house of mourn-
ing into which it is better for us to enter than into
the house of feasting. From this d&y till the celebra-
tidh of His glorious resurrection summon us to joy,
our hearts and aflfections must dwell with His, in the
desoUtion of Olivet, in the injustice and cruelty of
Jerusalem, and in the ignominy of Calvary. Yes,
farewell for the time to Horeb and its miracles ; to
Sinai and the terrors of its law ; to Thabor and its
magnificent visions ; and let " the mountains of myrrh,"
of bitterness and son-ow, be the place of our abode.
Oh 1 there will be a rich variety of grief, a plentiful
diversity of afflictions for us all, and enough to pre-

MMkMKa

S84

rATIOir Olf fMl PABHIOW.

Tent wearinew in iiny. Thure tht\\ he sympathy for
th« vii tuoui, ftiul contrition for th« ninfnl ; counolatioo
fur the afflicted, and mild reproof for the light of
heart; noothing encouragement for the jwmecuted of
men, and utter confusion to the proutl and unjust.
There ithall be teara that will drown all human sor-
row, and thorns that shall prick to compunction the
hardest heart; and sighs that iw tmlm will heal the
bruised spiri^ and blood that will wu»h deau the
deepest stains of sin I

Come then, my dear brethren, and let us enter, with
willing if not with cheerful heart, upon this way of
life to us, though of death to Jesus. And, as I trust
you will make the thought of His sufferings para-
mount in your minds, in the days that shall ensue,
and will often turn your affections towards one or
other of His many sorrows, I will offer myself thm
day, with becoming diffldenct!, to be your guide, by
simply suggesting to you a few of the many reflections
that may occupy your thoughts upon the different
parts of your dear Redeemer's Passion.

First, you will- follow Him into the Garden of
Olives, where you will see Him leavy His apostles at
Bome distance, taking along with Him His three more
chosen ones, from whom, however. He further retires.
While they, oppressed by nature, sleep, He enters up-
on the most mysterious portion of His Passion. This
the Scripture describes by words which imply, as we
shall see, a frightful mental suffering. He prays tQ
His Father to remove from Him the cup which He is
about to drink; He falls upon the ground in anguish,
and requires an angel as Hia comforter. Such. 19 the

.^haiM

IHtntTATIOIf on Till! VAt»lOV,

9t8

apathy for
cutiAolatiua
le light of
i-jti'cutvd of
mil unjimt.
Iiutnnu (lor*
Linctiou the
11 hoal thu
I oleau tho

I enter, with
ihia way of
(], as I ti-uat
Brings para-
shall eiisuef
ards one or
myself ihi»
ir guide, by
ly reflections
the ditferent

9 Garden of
} apostles at
8 three more
irther retires.
le enters op-
aasion. This
imply, as we
Ho prays to

which lie ia
d in anguish,

Such, i? the

brief outline of thi* stage of our Haviour's Passion ;
and you will, iwho|)B, ask yourselves, wh«refore was
it en«lur«d: and an easy answer will pr»w«nt itself.

Suppose, then, that wicked Judaa, when he rushed
out of the supper hall, had brought in the satellit«» of
the priests, and had seized Jesus in the midst of His
a])ostl«s, there would hove been something unbecom-
ing tho majesty <f His sufterings to be thus surpriwd,
as though unprepared, amidst the cjilm enjoyment of
society with those He loved. The whole Passion
would have appeared to us a deed of violence ; and
that spontaneous assumption of pain and death, which
is its leading characteristic, would have hardly ap-
peared. It was right, therefore, that a separation
from the rest of mankind should take place, that Jesua
should calmly and deliberately prepare Himself for all
that was to follow, and give Himself up to His suffer-
ings, as chosen by Himself. Hence, when His ene-
mies came to seize Him, He is pleased first to throw
them thrice upon the ground, before He surrendered
Himself to their power. He showed in His agony and
in His prayer, that He foresaw what was to ensue,
and submitted to it all.

But, moreover, it was unbecoming tbat men should
strike the first blow upon the Victim of sin; for,
whatever they inflicted wn^ but in consequence of a
just and stem decree. It was the Eternal Father who
must first lift His hand upon this His Isaac, and by
investing Him with the character of the universal ob-
lation, give Him up to the cruelty of man for the con-
summation of the mysterious sacrifice. And here, in-
deed, He laid His hands upon His head, as did the

i f l» rili ii

»« l »N

1"'

226

MIDITATIOIC ON THK PAaSION.

High Priest upon that of the emissary goat, laying
upon Him the iniquities of us all, and holding Him
responsible for their enormity. During the rest of
His Passion our thoughts are distracted by the har-
rowing spectacle of bodily torments, and by the de-
testation inspired by the conduct of His enemies.
Here we are exclusively occupied with the considera-
tion of inward grief; we see Jesus alone with His
own personal sorrows, and come to consider those as
80 essential a part of His sufferings, so deep, so over-
whelming, as that whatever he afterwards endured
in the body shall seem but as an addition and ap-
pendage to them. . « 1

For observe diligently the awful expression of the
sacred text: "And being in an agony, He prayed the
longer" (Luke, xxii. 43) ; and His own words : "My
soul is sorrowful even unto death." These expressions
suggest to us the only comparison that wUl illustrate
the anguish of His spirit— the laat struggle between
life and death, when in ordinai7 men the latter con-
quers. They represent to us the convulsions of ex-
hausted Nature, resisting in vain the wrestling of a
superior destroying power, that gripes it closer and
closer, and presses out by degrees its vital energy, till
it sinks crushed and hopeless within its iron embrace.
They give us an idea of tl^e heart smothered in its fit-
ful throbs, by the slow ebbing of its thickening
streams; of the chest rising against a leaden weight
that oppresses it; of the limbs stiffening and drag-
ging one down like icy lumps; of the brain swim-
mi. £, and reeling in sickening confusioa. But then,
when we stand by such a spectacle on the bed of a

-ftHia

»m i h*

MEDITATION ON TUB PASSION.

227

goat, laying
olding Him
the rest of
by the har-
by the de-
lis enemies,
le cousidera-
Qe with His
del' those as
jep, so over-
irds endured
tion and ap-

assion of the
e prayed the
words: "My
e expressions
n'tII illustrate
jgle between
le latter con-
ilsions of ex-
restling of a
it closer and
il energy, till
ron embrace,
sred in its fit-
ts thickening
eaden weight
ng and drag-
> brain swim-
j. But then,
the bed of a

dying friend, awful and painful as it is to our feelings,
we have the consolation to know, or to believe, that
the feebleness of nature which causes it is a security
against its severity, that the sense is already dulled,
and the mind brought down almost to the verge of
unconsciousness. But here is one in the very prime
of youth, in the vigor health, without a stroke from
man, or a visitation of evil fortune, or a domestic be-
reavement, so seized upon in one instant by inward
sorrow, as to be cast into this death struggle, through
its intensity. Oh, who can imagine the fearfulness of
the conflict ! To be assailed by such grief as is car
pable of causing death, and to have to grapple with it,
and resist it so as to prevent by endurance its fatal
effects ; to feel death, in the very pride and fulness of
life, attempt usurpation, by strong and armed hand,
against the wakeful and resisting powers of vitality I
And to wrestle through the dark hours of night, as
Jacob did with the angel, unaided, unsupported,
alone ! Good God, what a conflict, and what a vic-
tory 1 When you stand by one reduced to his last
struggle, you see with compassion how the cold sweat
settles upon his brow ; you see in it the last symptom
of the intensity of his pain ; and, if he were your bit-
tei-est enemy, you would not refuse to wipe it gently
away. Look, then, at the agony of your Saviour, and
see how, in it, that sweat is blood ! yea, and blood so
profusely shed, without wound or stroke, as to flow
upon the gi'ouud !

There are plants in the luxurious East, my dearly
beloved brethren, which men gash and cut, that from
them may distil the precious balsams they contain ;

228

MEDITATION ON THE PA88ION.

but tbat is ever the most sought and valued which,
issuing forth of its own accord, pure and unmixed,
trickles down like tears upon the parent tree. And
so it seems to me, we may without disparagement
speak of the precious streams of our dear Redeemers
blood. When forced from His side, in abundant
flow it came mixed with another mystenous fluid;
when shed by the cruel inflictions of His enemies, by
their nails, their thorns, and scourges, there is a pain-
fal association with the brutal istruments that drew
it, as though in some way their defilement could
attaint it. But here we have the first yield of that
saving and life-giving heart, gushing forth spontane-
ously, pure and untouched by the unclean hand of
man, dropping as dew upon the ground. It is the
first juice of the precious vine ; before the wine-press
hath bruised its grapes, richer and sweeter to the
loving and sympathizing soul, than what is aftei-
wards pressed out. It is every drop of it ours ; and
alas, how painfully so I For here no lash, no impious
palm, no pricking thorn hath called it forth ; but our
sins, yes, our sins, the executioners not of the flesh,
but' of the heart of Jesus, have driven it all out,
thence to water that garden of sorrows I Oh, is it not
dear to us ; is it not gathered up by our affections,
with far more reverence and love than by virgins of
old was the blood of martyrs, to be placed forever m
the very sanctuary, yea, within the very altar of our

hearts I « • »

But we shall have a very faint idea of our Saviours
sufferings, upon this occasion, if we learn it not from
His prayer. All that our imagination could feign

■mv-

MEDITATION ON THE PASSION.

229

ted whicb,
unmixed,
ree. And
aragement
iedeemer's
abundant
iona fluid;
inemies, by
e is a pain*
> that drew
nent could
eld of that
li spontane-
an hand of
It is the
B wine-press
eter to the
at is after-
t ours ; and
, no impious
th ; but our
af the flesh,
L it all out.
Oh, is it not
ir affections,
by virgins of
}d forever in
altar of our

our Saviour's
n it not from
L could feign

would not give us an estimate equal to that contained
in those few words : " Father, if it be possible, let this
chalice pass away from me." For, consider how low
indeed must His strength have been reduced, how fear-
fully must the repugnances of the aflBiicted man have
been allowed to prevail, against the earnest love, and
longing desires that engaged Him to the accomplish-
ment of onr salvation, to make Him even for a moment
flinch before the sufferings that awaited Him, and hesi-
tate whether or no He should draw back from the
painful undertaking, in which He had already taken
8c many steps ! Oh, how the cause of us poor crea-
tures trembled for a moment in the scale ; while on
one side, weighed that reverence in which He was
held, so as to make all His petitions effectual ; and on
the other. His love for man, and for each of us in par-
ticulai* I How may Heaven be supposed for a moment
to have stood in suspense, to see which should pre-
vail 1 But no, blessed be Thou, my loving Jesus, for
that little clause which Thou insertest in Thy prayer:
" if it can be done." Yes, I well understand its mean-
ing, pregnant as it is with the fate of my salvation.
"If the cup," it seems to say, "can be removed, yet
so as man shall be saved, if it. can be put aside, con-
sistent with my determination and pledge, to offer a
full and suflScient ransom for sinners ; then, and only
then, let this nauseous draught be taken from before
me. If this may not so be, then welcome its bitter-
ness, that lost man may be saved." Yes, well had
He taken care to enter a caution in Heaven against
His prayer being received, when wrung from
Him in the anguish and agony of His soul, and well

'1^-

dT"

280

MEDITATION ON Tlili PA86ION.

did He clog it with such a condition, as would pre-
vent its being received, to the interruption of our re-
demption.

But do you wonder, my brethren, that He should
either have recoiled from drinking this cup, or that
He should have afterwards cheerfully drunk it to the
dregs \ What was there in that cup ? Our sins aac'
the punishment due to them. And what % s to be
gained by His drinking it? Our salvation. And is
not the mystery solved \ Do you wonder either that
the Laml) of God, pure and undefiled, should have
shuddered at the very thought of investing Himself
with your transgressions, which even to your own
minds are now so hateful ; or can you wonder that
your dear Saviour should have Irved you so much, aa
to master this repugnance, and 8\, allow that poisonous
potion, so that His death might be thy life \

Oh 1 then, whenever you offend God by sin, think
that your offence was an additional drop of bitterness
in that draught, another pang in the heart of Jesus,
which you might easily have spared Him. When you
have overcome temptation, rejoice to think that, here,
at least, you have refrained from swelling the already
too full measure of soitow which He accepted for your

sake.

But when you have meditated, with an affectionate
heart, upon the first stage of your Savioui-'s sufferings,
you will turn to Him with various feelings, according
to the reflections you have made. Sometimes, seeing
Him abandoned by His disciples, you will address
Him as if you were present, and had it in your power
to attend Him, and comfort Him. " Drink," you will

■i> lmj |iii|H»N*^WWI

would pre«
I of our re-
He should
;up, or that
ak it to the
ir Hins And
, -w ^8 to be
n. And is
either that
hould have
Dg Himself
I your own
ironder that
so much, as
at poisonous

ty sin, think
>f bitterness
rt of Jesus,

When you
k that, here,

the already
(ted for your

alSectionate
''s sufferings,
^, according
times, seeing
will address
I your power
ttk," you will

lIEDrrATIOlf OM THE PASSION.

281

say to Him, " my good and loving Saviour, drink, I
entreat Thee, this bitter cup, that so I may be saved.
It is true I have helped to mingle in it the gall of
dragons, by the bitterness of my ingratitude to Thee ;
but still I know Thou lovest me to that excess, that
Thou wilt endure it all, rather than that I should be
lost as I deserve. But oh ! let me add to it one more
ingredient, which will make it less hateful to Thee—
the teare of a sincere repentance. Be comforted some
little with the thought, that of those who helped to
prepare for Thee this loathsome potion, one at least
shall not be ungrateful, for the boundless love which
prompted Thee to drink it."

Or, perhaps, prompted by a feeling of more gene-
rous ardor, you will desire to share in your Redeemer's
sufferings. You will imagine Him asking you, as He
did the sons of Zebedee, if you are willing to drink
of the cup whereof He should drink ? And you will
say 1 > yourself: "Oh, who could resist such a ques-
tion, or hesitate to answer, yes ? Who would decline
to drink from the same chalice, however bitter its
draught, which His blessed lips had consecrated and
sweetened? Welcome, then, my deai* Saviour, my
portion in Thy cup, as in Thy cross. I will drink of
it resignedly in all trials, and afflictions, studying to
bear them in the spirit of Olivet. I will drink of it
penitently, in sorrow and contrition, weeping often
here in Thy company, and grieving that I should have
so cruelly agonized Thy tender heart. I will drink
of it lovingly on Thy altar, when in holy communion
I pai*take of thy precious body and blood. And, in
the end, grant, my dear Jesus, that I may blissfully

' i

}t3 KIDITATION OK Ta« PABSIOK.

drink H new «-ith T-- in the kinsaom of Thy Father
there face to f«=e t„ > .Thee, for Tby eor..ow, and

'""irr^nr ble»ed Lord la, been «.i»=d by Hi. e„.
mie^ nU receiving the traitor'. ki», and hae been
kdTto^the city, the «enc of the bitter tragedy eu^
Zi one another so closely, and present sucli a vanety
of feeling subjects for meditation, that it » .mposs.ble
for us at present even to touch upon a sm^l port on
of then,. First, then, we have Him presented to the
high priests, and their confederates, who prepare the
preliminaries fbr Hi. trial ne:tt day. It is an .nstru^
?"e and consoling occupation to follow these w,ly and
unprincipled enemies in their courae of cunning .njus-
Se- for they seek to save their characters, whde
Condemn the Lord of glory. Hence they suborn a
number of witnesses, whose testimony Jesus confounds,

by simply """"^"-K «"• N°*'°« Tv. \r"
llJfillj triumphant for His character than the re-

suit of this most pai aal investigation. , ,, „ .

But there is one incident in this stage of the Fu-
sion that particularly rivets our attention-the denial
of Peter. Jesus, from the beginning, had been aban-
doned by His apostles, after the fl™t rash effort made
WPe J to rescue Him. He stood without a friend
Zidstthe ruffianly servants and g»-" »' *« °J''f
priests, who had let loose their f™.'!*? «?»"«». »i
were loading Him with every indigmty. At length,
tLlever boldest and most zealous of His friends draw.
uighTnd ventures into the crowd. Sure^ he » come
^g^ve his dear Master some comfort^and assure Him
ThaTaU His chosen ones «.m«n f«thful to H.m, and

MEDITATION ON niK PASSION.

283

'hy Father,
orvovra aud

by His ene-
1 has been
ragedy suc-
5h a variety
I impossible
aall portion
snted to the
prepare the
J an instruc-
Bse wily and
inning injus-
icters, while
hey suborn a
a confounds,
an be more
than the re-

) of the Pas-
L — the denial
Ibeen aban-
i effort made
hout a friend
9 of the chief
3on Him, and
'. At length,
friends draws
sly he is come
id assure Him
,1 to Him, and

sympnthize in His sufferings. He must bo ready, if
necessary, to die with Him ! Alas! he is come on a
very different errand, and Jesus who has foretold it to
him, well knows it; he is come only to disown and
foreswear his Lord, and peijure his soul most fright-
fully and treacherously, that he knows not the man !
It would seem as if this special trial had been per-
mitted, expressly to break down eveiy comfort, which
the suffering humanity of Jesus otherwise might have
felt. What a wreck of the toils, the lessons, the warn-
ings and examples of three years 1 In vain has He
been laboring to teach him that the Son of man must
be delivered into the hands of sinners, and be mocked,
and scourged, and so put to death. Peter, after them
all, does not know the man ! And who, can He then
hope, ever will ? Yes, and there is the solid founda-
tion of His Church, the rock on which it was to be
built, melted away like wax, before that fatal fire in
the priest's hall ! There is all the work of years in
forming His apostle's character, dissolved like frost-
work, at the breath of a foolish servant giri 1 Oh, -what
a painful sight to Jesus in the midst of His other tor-
ments 1 How more grievous a stroke than the blows
He was receiving on His cheek ! How much blacker
an insult than the spitting in His face I

But, on the other hand, observe His conduct.
Peter was no longer worthy of His notice, much less
of His affection. He had treated Him most disloy-
ally, and most ungratefully. Jesus might have justly
abandoned him for ever. At least He surely had
enough to think of for Himself, and might leave him
until after His resurrection. But no ; He would not

' .^Ull| i l,i^.l..""""

MtH

234

MEDITATION ON THK PASSION.

f I

delay one moment to touch his heart ; He would not
die unreconciled to him. He heeds not the thick
crowd of tormentors around Him, but turns to Peter.
Oh, what a glance must that have been ! a look, never
to be effaced, so long as he lived, from the heart and
memory of that apostle. His features are scarcely
discernible, through the disfiguring effects of the out-
rageous treatment He has received ; but His eye, un-
clouded in its mild majesty, darts a beam, which not
only passes far beyond His insulters, through the
gloom of night, and reaches the outer hall, but finds
its way into the very recesses of the apostle's heart,
breaks the spell of forgetfulness that binds him, soft-
ens once more those finer feelings, which fear had be-
numbed and frozen, and brings them out in a flood of
tears. And who of us will not feel that look as bent
no less upon us ? We have again and again disowned
and abjured our Saviour; perhaps before men by
cowardly timidity in His service ; often cei-tainly be-
fore the face of His angels, by the apostacy of sin.
And often have outward warnings been lost upon us ;
as the crowing of the cock was upon Peter. But one
look of Jesus, in His sufferings, must surely be irre-
sistible to our hearts ; an expostulation from Him so
mildly spoken, so lovingly urged, so winajngly soft-
ened by His proffer of pardon, from Him whom not
other men, but we whom He so treats, are cruelly ill-
using, cannot be rejected by the hardest heart, by the
most unfeeling transgressor.

I pass over, my brethren, the brutal inflictions of
that night of sorrows, in which^ as in every other part
of His Passion, the meekness and patience of the Son

Wfc.lfc

MEDI'I'ATIUN ON THE FA8HI0N.

285

) would not
; the thick
D8 to Petor.

look, never
le heart and
ire scarcely

of the out-
Hia eye, un-
1, which not
through the
kll, but finds
jstle's heart,
Is him, soft-
fear had be-
in a flood of
ook as bent
iin disowned
ore men by
cei*tainly be-
atacy of sin.
98t upon us ;
)r. But one
irely be irre-
from Him so
injjngly soft-
n whom not
•e cruelly ill-
[leart, by the

inflictions of
py other part
e of the Son

of God shine brightly, in. proportion to the black and
hateful behavior of otliers towards Ilim. I pass over
the first accusations at Pilate's tribunal, the outcries
for His blood, the mockery of Herod, the silence of
Christ, — all rich themes for meditation ; because I
will rather pause on tha more striking events of that
eventful day.

And first, Jesus is scourged. Notice how Pilate pro-
poses this insult : " I, having examined Him, find no
cause in this man ; I will chastise Him therefore, and
let Him go." (Luke, xxiii. 14, 16.) What an im-
pious, blasphemous idea I To chaetise or correct Him,
who is the eternal wisdom of the Father, purity, inno-
cense, holiness and all perfection ! And who is it that
undertakes to chastise Him? One of the lewdest,
most tyrannical, most hateful of heathens. He pixH
poses to chastise the spotless Lamb of God, to correct
His faults, and send Him back to the world an
amended man 1 And how is this correction to be ef-
fected? By the scoucge! By the punishment of
slaves, of the vilest of mankind 1 See, then, how
Pilate proceeds, without remorse, to put his oflfer in ex-
ecution, fancying that he is thereby actually doing a
favor to Jesus I Contemplate well the scene which
ensues, when He is delivered over, for this purpose, to
the rabid soldiery.

He is placed in the hands of probably the most
haixiened class of men on earth ; men inured to car-
nage, each one of them ready, when commanded, to
be an executioner, an office reserved in later time!) for
one who is deemed an outcast ; men who hated the
stranger and the conquered, and who ever bor© a par-

tse

MXOITATIOir ON TUX PAB6I05.

ticulnr antipathy to the Jewish nation. Now to the
absolute i)ower of these men Jenun is aV)an(ionecl.
They nee given up to them, not a hmdened, rough
criininol, one like thomftelveB, with whom they would
probably have Bympathized, or whom thoy would have
thought it but an overy-day occupation to torture, but
QUO whose first appearance shows liim to be of the
^ noblest descent and of the tenderest frame ; one whoso
modesty and bashfulness can but poorly stand the dis-
graceful exposure to nakedness and ignominious pun-
ishment ; one whose meek and calm demeanor, so at
vai'iance with their brutality, stimulates tteir cruel
appetite; still more, one whose alleged crime is the
desire and attempt to drive thera and their whole
race out of Palestine, and overthrow the empire
which gives them for their bread the plunder of the
world.

What wonder that the scourging inflicted by those
pitiless wretches should have been ever represented as
one of the crudest parts of our blessed Redeemer's
Passion 1 What wonder that He Himself should have
almost always alluded to it when He spoke of His
crucifixion ? For, if to any man it was so disgraceful
an infliction that St. Paul himself pleaded his right as
a Roman citizen in bar of its execution, what must it
have been in this afflicting easel

Well, now, see the innocent Lamb of God, sur-
rounded by this ruffianly mob, the subject of their
coarse jests and gross ribaldry, those men whom St.
Ignatius Martyr later characterised by the name of
leopards. See how they strip Him, with rude hands I
how they tightly bind His wrists, and tie Him to the

AIKDITATION ON TIIK PAWION.

187

fow to tll«
[ihandonKl.
ned, rough
they would
would have
torture, but
be of the
one whose
ind the dis-
itnious pun-
janor, so at
tfieir cruel
rime is the
heir whole
the empire
nder of the

ed by those
presented aa
Redeemer's
should have
oke of His
» disgraceful
his right as
hat must it

tf God, Bur-
eot of their
1 whom St.
the name of
rude hands I
Him to the

pillar. Gracious God ! is it possible that Thou wilt
alkw llii* virgitml flt-Mli to be tuuched by a scourge!
Is it ;)oSsiblo that Thou wilt permit the ignominious
lash to tear and diHiiguru that most comely and holy
of bodies, formed by Thine own immediate agency in
the pure womb of Mary, the most precious work of
Thy hands since the creation of the world I Angels
of God! can you withhold your indif»nation, and re-
frain from rushing upon this mad soldiery and over-
throwing (as ye did Heliodorus) those who are about
to treat your Master, your happ'ness and joy, as a vile
malefactor, as the lowest of slaves, and will instantly
proceed to tear and bruise His adorable body, and
sprinkle His blood over that profane floor !

But no ; there seems to be no mercy, no pity for
Jesus, either on earth or in Heaven ; He is abandoned
to the anger of God and the fury of man. The exe-
cutioners surround Him with savage delight and
shower on Him their cruel blows, till He is covered
with blood, and gashed, and swollen, over all His
sacred body 1

See now, how the brutal executionern proceed to the
task of inflicting cruel torment upon your dear Re-
deemer. Having bound Him to the pillar, they deal
their furious blows upon His sacred shoulders, back,
chest, and arms. First His tender flesh swells and in-
flames, then the skin is gradually torn, and the blood
oozes through ; gashes begin to bo formed, and wider
streams pour down in profusion. At length every
part is covered by one continuous bruise ; gash has
run into gash, wide rents meet in every direction, and
the flesh is torn in flakes from the bones. One wretch

H-

9S8

MEDITATION OH THK PA8M0W.

•Qoeetdi anothnr in tho cruol work, till tboy are tired,
And thflir patiijucu, though nut that of tliuir Victim, in
exhatinted.

What n pitflOOB spectacle does oar JeflOJi now pr^
tent! What a contraMt with what He wan hat the
day before, when M'atcHl at Ilin tabln of love with Ilia
Twelve and John rcpoaing ou IUh bosom I If that dic-
ciple aeoM Him now, what n tender Rorrow must he not
feel, and how bitterly muit he deplore the sad change
which this ruthless infli<^tion had made t And ought
I not to feel as much as John for my dear Baviour's
Bufferings? Was He not as much my Havioar as hisi
This Bon'owful act in the sacred tragedy now ended,
our Lord is untied from the column, and left, as l>e8t
He may, to shift for Himself. There is no friend near
to help Him : His disciples are all out of the way, and
the unfeeling soldiery are not likely to render Him
any assistance. Every limb is sore, stiff, and benumbed
with pain, so as to be almost jwwer'ess ; yet He must
again put on His rough woollen clothes upon His man-
gled limbs, to grate and fret them, and increase their
smart.

Bat now, consider the change which has taken
place in His situation before His people. He is now
a disgraced, degraded being. The base lash has touched,
nay, ci-uelly torn Him. He stands in their presence as
a tried and condemned criminal, as a public malefactor.
They will not believe that their priests could have
gone to sach extremities, as deliver a descendant ot
David to the heathen's scourge, without good and solid
reasons. But. be He as innocent as possible, He can*
not again hold up His head among the children of His

MtOITATION ON T1IR fUmiOIT.

230

r are tirwl,
Victim, in

» now pr««
x» hnt the
with Hit
If that die*
iiiat he not
nad cliange
\nd ought
: Saviour'i
[)ar M hiMf
low ended,
eft, as best
friend near
e way, and
9Dder HitB
benumbed
t He mnHt
n His maO'
sreaae their

has taken
He is now
as touched,
presence as
malefactor,
could have
icendant ot
d and solid
)le, He can*
Iren of His

people. One who han been scourged can never hope
to heail even a p.irty among the»». He mnst give My,
all pretensions to be their Meswias. Who will now
own Him! Oh I how many, upon seeing Him thus
treated, denie<i Him like Peter? How many not only
Hwore that they had never known the man, but in*
wardly regretted that they had ever followed or be-
lieved in Him I How many are ashamed, at this first
step in the scandal of the crosn ?

And after you have afflicted your heart with this
sorrowful spectacle, will you not break into a loving
exjHMtulation with the Saviour of your soul, and say
to Him : " O my good and ever-gracious Jesus, this
was really too much for Thee to endure, for such a
sinful wretch as I have been ; it was too much good-
ness, too much affection, to submit to such degrading,
such savagti treatment for my sake. It is a spectacle
too distressing for even ray flinty heart to contemplate ;
oh, would it had been spared Thee ! But Thy love
knows not the phrase too much ; it is insatiable, it will
devour every ignominy and every torment, to save
and to win us to itself. Oh, let tue then never know
that word, in gratitude and requiting love. And yet
I address Thee, as though I had no hand in this bar.
barous infliction; as though ray sins had not been
Thy true persecutors and executioners, that laid the
lash upon Thy sacred body. I^et shame and sorrow,
but ever loving sorrow, overwhelm n. , when I think
upon what they have made Thee undergo I"

But another scene of extraordinary barbarity yet
awaits us. The soldiers have exhausted the power
which the law put into their hands ; but their fierce

240

MEDITATION ON THE PASSION.

desires are not exhausted. They know that Jesns is
charged with declaring Himself King of the Jews, and
they proceed to make this just claim the ground of *
strange mockery. They prepare for Him a new, un-
heard-of diadem, woven of hard sharp thorns, and
place it upon His sacred head. Then they press it
down on every side, till its points pierce the skin and
penetrate His flesh. Now behold your Saviour still
further disfigured, and dishonored. Before, His body
had been torn, but even the scourge had respected
His venerable head. But now this is assailed by this
invention of ingenious cruelty, which, under the re-
peated strokes of the reed given Him for a sceptre,
and taken from His hand, changes its position, and in-
flicts at every blow a new or a deeper wound. His
hair is all entangled in the knotty wreath, and clotted
with His sacred blood. His fair temples and noble
forehead are strained and pressed down by it ; while
it shoots its points into them, and opens so many
fountains of life, waters of salvation, springing warm
from His affectionate heart. See how they trickle
down first slowly, then in faster and thicker streams,
till His sacred face and neck are streaked with blood,
which running down over His body, mingles with
that flowing from the gashes of the scourge. "Go
forth, ye daughters of Sion, and see king Solomon, ia
the diadem with which His mother crowned Him, in
the day of His espousals, and in the day of the joy of
His heart." (Cant. iii. 11.) Yes, His own nation,
whose Son He was, and in that day when He stretches
forth His hand for a pledge of love, from the souls of
all He has redeemed. And who will- not answer His

..».;. ;:.i., :.'.i^v;.-...iv.;-..f.-.: ■ i ..i-^.-::^'...^.^ .,^^^-;.^:.-'~w^J:i-^- '.■<^.f'4::..^^ iffV'ir'niNf'^i-iinjf-inii-Ti

"■n

:ir

MKDITATIOW ON THE PASSIOIT.

241

hat Jesns is
be Jews, and
groand of a
i a new, un-
thorna, and
they press it
the skin and
Saviour still
pe, His body
id respected
ailed by this
nder the re-
>r a sceptre,
ition, and in-
nround. His
, and clotted
)a and noble
by it ; while
ms so many
inging warm
they trickle
cker streams,
1 with blood,
uingles with
ourge. " Go
; Solomon, ia
rned Him, in
of the joy of
own nation,
He stratches
I the souls of
b answer His

call the more lovingly for seeing Him reduced to such
a state ? What would the diadem of Solomon, or that
■which David his father made of the spoils of his foes,
have added of grace or glory to the brow of the Son
of God? What dignity or majesty would gold or
precious stones have bestowed on that Divine head ?
But wreathe it with thorns for my sake, and enrich it
with blood poured out to save me, and I recognize, not
the M orld's diadem, but the bridal crown of that Spouse
of blood, who would gain our souls at the price of His
life.

"I will extol Thee, O God my King, and I will
bless Thy name forever." (Ps. cxliv. 1.) " He who,
of old, had conquered at the games, preferred a myrtle
crown to one of gold ; he who had vanquished ene-
raies in battle, a laurel wreath; and he who had
saved a citizen, one of oak. And I will ever love be-
yond them all that which Thou hast chosen for Thy-
self, a crown of thorns. Thou shalt place it on my
heart, and it shall be at once a goad to my love, and
a prick to my remorse ; and I will love Thee sorrow-
ing, for the ignominy a^d pain to which Thou hast,
stooped on my account."

After you shall have duly taken a view of the re-
maining portion of this stage of the Passion, of the
manner, in particular, in which Barabbas is preferred
to Christ, of the awful cry with which the wretched
Jews call down His blood upon their heads, and the
miserable spectacle of Jesus carrying His cross, you
will hasten on to Calvary, to witness the consumma-
tion of the solemn tragedy.

Consider now the cruel torments which our dear

iriftiitWlB-iiai

■— <p»

•VI IH"«ll«|

243

MEDITATIOlf ON THE PASSION

J88U3 must have endured daring His three hours re-
maining on the cross. Hi* body was stretched out
upon this hard knotty trunk— for certainly they wko
prepared it studied but little how to make it soft or
easy to His limbs. Every sinew and muscle of Hw
hody must have been in a state of unnatural tension,
both from the situation in which He was placed^ and
from the eflfort which nature would make to diminish
the pressure upon the wounds of the nails. We find
it weary enough lying for a few houra in one positiois.
upon a soft bed, and cannot bear being long without
turning, upon a hard board ; what, then, must it have
been to hang in the air extended upon this rough
tree, especially in the state of our blessed Saviour^a
body ? From head to foot He is one wound ; His
head, if it press against the cross, is gored by the
points of the thorns, which are thus driven deep into
it Truly now are verified, in their truest and saddest
sense. His plaintive words: "The Son of man hath
not where to rest His head." His shoulders and back,
which are pressed necessarily against it, are fiayed and
torn with the inhuman stripes which have been inflict-
ed upon Him. Against these open wounds does this
cruel bed press, so that any change of posture, so far
from relieving Him, only increases His sufiferings by
grating upon and rending wider the blistera and
gashes with which He is covered. But let us not lose
sight of those four terrible but most precious wounds
whereby He is fastened on the cross. Each of His
hands, each of His feet, is transfixed by a long black
nail, driven into it with violence, and eveiy mo-
ment, by the natural gravitation of His body, tearing

ee hours re-
bretched out
ly they who
te it soft or
uscle of His
;ural tension,
i placeds and
I to diminish
la. We find

one position
long without

must it have
n this rough
sed Saviour's

wound; His
rored by the
ven deep into
st and saddest

of man hath
ders and back,
are flayed and
(re been inflict-
mds does this
posture, so far
I suflferinga by
! blistera and

let us not lose '
*ecious wounds
Each of His
y a long black
ind eveiy mo-
3 body, tearing

mmmm

MEDITATION OX THE PASSlOIf.

wider and wider the rent it has made. Oh! what
a smarting, torturing pain, what an unceasing suflfering
during three hours of crucifixion ! Who, dear Jesus,
shal be able to recount all that Thou sufforedst for me
in that short space I

But, beyond these sufferings, immediately inflicted
by the act of crucifixion itself, there were others, no
less severe, which resulted from it. The uneasy and
unnatural position which it produced caused a dis-
turbance m all the nobler function of life. The lungs
surcharged with blood, panted with labor and anxiety!
in consequence of the compression of the chest: the
heart, from the same cause, beat heavily and painfully,
clogged in its motions by the impeded circulation : the
blood, unable to return from the head by reason of the
veins being compressed, must have caused a tingling,
apoplectic pain. The same causes would produce a
disti-essmg heat and irritation all over the surface of
the face, neck, and chest, which He had no hand to
relieve, and which consequently must have been tor-
turing in the extreme. To these sufferings we must
add exposure to heat and air, with a body already
wounded in every part and covered with sores inflict,
ed by the torments of the preceding night and that
veiy morning ; so that not only those parts of the
body which pressed upon the cross, but every other,
must have been painfully sensitive, and subject t<J
giievons sufferings.

Truly, my Jesus was the king of martyrs, the severest
sufferer the wor 'd ever saw, for the sake of others I

Add to all these torments the many other acces-
soneg to the tortures of crucifixion, which our beloved

•44 MKBITATIOM OM THE PA88IOS.

Saviour enaored for you. He, the meet raodest and
™rrof being., U ex^-eed unclothed before the m»l-
&e. He i, .0 object, not of the-r ^"P"'-;'';^
of their absolute derision. He sees before H^ «
i,omen.ecro»d,all animated, or ™tl'er p««e«ed by
one evil epirit of hatred and scorn of Hm, every
rrd that re«=he. Him i. a woM of bitter meult and
*:^tery. Nearer Him, indeed, is a amalkr gr^up o
fi.ithft.1 and eympathijing followers, but .o far from H«
"ng comfort from the™, they stand .n need of .t
Tm nfm, and cheerfully He give, it f 't"; -^ H'.
other companions, apostles, and d.M.p es, the many
^ho had fkwed Him from place ^ place, have d*
InDeared, and hidden themselves from the sight of
r„ A 1 that He possessed on earth, H s few c othes,
Zn to Hi, seamless garment, are unfeebngly drnded
or diced for, between the .oldie™ who have executed

Sim He ia th™ ^o"" '" "«' "<"'*• '"""'°', T
smallest link with it, save His love for man, and H.s
earnest desire to accomplish h.e salvation. In fine. He
X a racking thirst; His parched lips oan no longe
endure the dryness which afflicts them, and call out
for relief. And the barbarians who surround Him,
present Him with gall and vinegar to drmk. Can
oXage go beyond ?his J Could brutality be earned
to a higher excess 1 Now, surely, we may say that all
U accomplished, and that the anger of t^e 3«Bt God
■ has no more dregs left in the ehalice of suffering which

He homing Jfor His Son, as the world's Kedeeme.

Now be His name praised for ever, nothing more i*

mains but that death come and put an end to so much

suffering. ,

iM ft""trr '"•••" '"'"'•'"'''' ""•^•■*'*''' ' -■

modest and
»re the mul-
passioD, but
)re Him an
lossesaed, by
Him; every
5r insult and
Her group of
far from His
in need of it
»eter and His
38, the many
Mje, have dis-
the sight of
s few clothes,
ingly divided,
ave executed
, without one
man, and His
i. In fine. He
I can no longer
1, and call out
urround Him,
drink. Can
lity be carried
lay say that all
' the just God
suffering which
•Id's Redeemer.
)thing more re-
end to so much

MEDITATION ON THB PAGSIOIT.

245

But how complete it was determined, by the inex-
orable justice of God, that the abandonment of His
Son should be, how filled to the brim the chalice of
His bitter sorrows, when even His dear and blessed
mother, instead of being any longer to Him what she
had ever before been, a source of comfort and happi-
ness, was destined to aggravate His sufferings, and
render His last hour more desolate I If there could
be one tie between Him and earth which His heart
might continue to cherish, it was His love for her who
had borne Him, and had loved Him as child and as
man, far beyond .any other created being. If all the
world had abandoned Him, she at least had not; if
most that stood near Him sympathized but little, or
even rejoiced in His sufferings, she partook of them
with a mother's sensibility, and alone endured more
than all earth else, Himself alone excepted. If few
would feel His loss, to Her it would be irreparable.
Her then He sees at the foot of His cross, overwhelmed
with anguish and unspeakable woe. He knows how
she is revolving in her mind, whither she shall go
when she has lost Him ; not from any selfishness or
self-seeking, but from the utter worthlessness of all
earth, when He should withdraw from it. What an
additional pang to His sacred heart, to witness her
inconsolable grief, and irremediable distress I What
an accumulation of sorrow to His overwhelmed soul,
to have no power to comfort her, to be obliged to give
her up, to abandon her, to have not a good or cheering
word to utter ! How did their looks and their hearts
meet at that hour ! How were all the affections of
both, if possible, i-enewed, and how did they melt into

Mw u i f' ii' " " ' ^*---

246

KEDITATION ON THE PA88IOW.

one loving thought, in the fierce furnace of their com-
mon Bufi'erings 1 How did Mary remember the happy
days when He wna an infant in her bosom, and when
she heard his Godlike words, sitting at their cheerful
but homely meal : and how did Jesus remember the
cherishing love with which this tenderest of mothers
had nursed and caressed Him! Here, was, indeed,
depth calling upon depth, grief superhuman upon
grief such as none had felt before. Still Jesus cannot
leave this earth without making some proasion for
the future welfare of His loving parent, who had taken
care of Him for thirty years. Gladly would He take
her with Him into His glory, and bear her as the
first present of earth to Heaven. But this comfort is
denied Him: for if gi-anted. He would have died with
one pain less, with one consolation more, ond this was
incompatible with the stern decrees of justice. No,
He must have the pain of knowing, as He expires,
that He is leaving her, whom He loves beyond all
other persons and things, to miseiy and poverty, and
to the charity, however secure, of strangei-s. He looks
about Him for some protector for the remainder of her
days, and finds the only apostle faithful to Him in His
hour of sorrow.

Consider the blessed words which Jesus spoke ; for
thou hast a deep interest therein. First, looking
down, with His sweetest expression, on Mary, He said,
referring to John: " Woman, behold thy son;" then
to John: "Son, behold thy mother." Here was a
new relationship established, wherein it was intended
that we should all have a part. For, as the Church
of God has always believed, in John we were all re-

1Lm|Mw*«-

MKDITATION ON THE PASSION.

847

their com-
the happy

and when
111' cheerful
lember the
)f mothers
ns, indeed,
man upon
isns cannot
oxision for
> had taken
id He take
her as the

comfort is
e died with
ad this was
istice. No,
He expires,
beyond all
overty, and
. He looks
inder of her
Him in His

i spoke ; for
rst, looking
iry, He said,
■ son ;" then
Here was a
as intended
the Church
were all re-

presented ; and so Mary was made our mother, and
wo were made lier children. But as this relationship
may form, in due season, matter for its own medita-
tions, let us keep our attention to what Jesus here
did. How did He feel the distressing nature of the
exchange He was proposing, in offering to the affec-
tionato and already crushed heart of Mary, John fop
Himself I But if to her He was thus necessarily hard,
see, on the other hand, how lovingly He thought of
us the while, and how, even in the depth of His afflic-
tions. He devised new blessings for us, and appointed
new aids to salvation. He bestowed on us this moth-
er — this tender, loving mother — this compassionate
and merciful mother — while suffering the most ex-
cruciaiing torments for our sins and ingratitudes!
His death was approaching ; He had given us Him-
self; He was just about to seal the donation by ex-
piring, but He bethought Him of another bequest —
nothing, indeed, in comparison with Himself, but still
better, nobler, more valuable than any thing else. He
had adopted us as His brethren in regard of His eter-
nal Father ; He had made us co-heirs with Him of
the kingdom of Heaven ; yet, He wished our relation-
ship to be even closer still, and us to be His brethren
in respect to His dear mother — one family with Him,
where our feelings can most easily be engaged in favor
of our kindred. At the same time, who can refrain
from admiring the steadiness and wonderful sti*ength
of the heart of Jesus, thus discharging His duty
OS a son, in the midst of the most frightful torments of
body, when exhausted by His wounds, and when op-
pressed in mind by an unspeakable weight of woe.

SHM

MfenM

448 MKDITATION ON TUK PA88I0If. v

How amiable, how perfect is every line in the charac
t«r of this our dear Master and Saviour, whether xu

life or in death. „ , ,, m

Let us then exclaim: "How shall we ever suffi-
ciently thank Thee, dear Jesus, for having thus niade
Thine own sacrifice, no less than Thy loving mothers
loss our gain 1 What a motive for gratitude to Thee
and to her, to have found a place at such a moment
in both your hearts— to have been considered worth
mention upon Calvary, amidst the sympathizmg sor.
rows of Son and mother! And here, surely, all the
gain was mine; for she but acquired in me a fioward
and undutiful, and often rebellious child, whereas I
obtained a tender and ' ost watchful paren^ who
through life has been my patroness and kmdest friend,
ever making intercession for me most effectually with
Thee But let me never forget what this adoption
cost Thee. For I see that to establish it, Thou wast
pleased to bring Mary to the foot of Thy cross pierc-
inff her soul with a sharp sword of giief, which went
back to Thine own, wounding deeply Thy filial heart;
that for three houre Thou allowedst Thy bitter pas-
sion to be aggravated by the sight of her inexpressi-
ble wretchedness; t)iat so she might conceive us m
sorrow and paiu, and have a stronger maternal inter-
est in our salvation. Blessed be ye both for so much
love 1 Blessed above all Thou, my deai- Jesiw, for
whom no suffering seemed too much, which could give
U8 no further blessing I "

But to these many sufferings must be added a deep-
er and more mysterious woe: the desolation of His
,oul from the abandonment of His eternal Father.

mim

igJU-iiitl.i*.

^•itfliiijpi m' fi*ii

the cbarfto*
tvhetber ia

ever inffi*
thus made
ig mother's
ide to 1* heo
a moment
Bred worth
thizing Bor-
•ely, all the
( a froward
, whereas I
parent, who
idest fiieud,
ctually with
hU adoptioa
^ Thou wast
cross, piero*
which went
filial heart;
r bitter pas-
r inexpressi-
Qceive us in
iternal inter-
for so much
ar Jesus, for
oh could give

fidded a deep-
lation of His
ernal Father.

MKDrrATIOIf OW TIIK PASSIOIT.

249

■■mm

"My God, My God," He exclaims, " why hast Tlion
aV>AndoQod me?" Had the world alone deserted Him
it would have been to Him uo loss. But to see Him-
self now an object of the indignation of God, in whom
His love and being were centered, oh, this was the
true consummation of His wretchedness ! This is the
only sun which to His eyes is darkened, the only
brightness that is dimmed. All joy is extinguished in
His heart, His soul is drowned in unutterable anguish,
and, uttering a loud cry, expressive of His desolation,
He gives up the ghost

Ob, sit down and ponder what the world lost at that
moment and what it gained.

What important changes did that instant prodnce
upon this globe ! The richest treasure it had ever
possessed is gone ; an eclipse as complete in the moral
splendor of earth took place to the eye of Heaven, as
had three hours before in its visible brightness. What
was the world without Him but a wilderness and des-
olation ? The fulness of His grace, the perfection of His
virtues, the majesiy of His presence, the eflfulgence of
His divinity, all were fled ; and the earth which to the
sight of angels had been as a part of Heaven during
His sojourn in it, returned to its unmitigated aspect of
sin and of sorrow. But to man, had his eye been opened
by faith, a brighter vision would have appeared. The
veil was rent fram top to bottom not only in the
Temple of Jerusalem, but in the sanctuary of Heaven ;
and only waited for the third day to be drawn aside,
and the glories within put into man's possession. The
handwriting against him was at that ^nstant effaced,
the shackles had fallen from his feet, hvt birthright was

tftO

MJKDITATIOir ON TUB PAIWilOir.

reclaimed ; and the evil npirita that had urged on the
farioQS people to accomplish the death of Jeatin, atood
aghast and trembled, and gnawed their heart* in rage
to Bee the ruin they had brought upon theraselveu.
The bolts apriug back from the gates of the prison in
which the saints of old were confined, iU doors fly
open, a bright and shining splendor breaks into it, and
the soul of the blessed Jesus descends to their em-
braces amidst hosanuas of triumph.

Such is the Passion, such the death of Jesus 1 And
now that I have hastily led you to it, I feel so com-
pletely how unequal I have been to my undertaking,
that I fear lest I should have rather weakened, than
directed or assisted, the emotions which your own af-
fections would have awakened. For it is one of those
topics on which our hearts can be more eloquent than
our tongues, and whisper those things, which these
may not have the courage, even if they have the/
power, to utter. We began these our instructions in
tlie name of our infant Jesus, we close them this day
at the foot of His cross. There should they ever part,
•who desire to meet again in Paradise. Whatever I
may have labored, whatever I may have striven, use-
less servant as I am, 1 leave in confidence on that
sacred spot, asking no reward save that some few
drops of the life-giving streams that there flow, may
fall upon it, and make it spring up in your souls, unto
your eternal profit. Whoever ye are that have not
disdained so humble a ministry, I commend you to
that blessed company that stands around, and still
more to Him that hangs upon the tree of life; to those
under whose roof we have so often met, whose united

•?!*"

■IB

i^ed on tlifl
«8Ui, fltood
,rt8 in rftge
^hero«ielv«it.
e prwon in
I doom fly
into it, and
I their em-

sua 1 And
el BO com-
idertaking,
eened, than
3ur own af-
me of those
iquent than
'hich these
1 have the/
truotions in
sm this day
y ever part,
Whatever I
striven, nse-
ice on that
b some few
B flow, may
[• souls, unto
it have not
end you to
d, and stili
ife; to those
'hose united

UKDITATION ON THK PAMMIOX.

251

names have been called upon this holy place, to ^m\\%
and to Mai-y • Though from one another wo now
separate in the bo<ly, yet may wc, through the spiiit,
be in their society united. There ahull we And peace
and joy, assurance and hope : and the scandal of the
cross, here below Ibved by us in our silent njoditution,
shall be the theme of our loud and grateful praises in
life everlastiok^. Amen.

* The Church of Ott^ e Maria, la Ronw, when thle Mrmon wm preached.

SERMON XII.
es htin 9( Cbriit'l 'tiAt,

tr. LuK«, xl.M.

•• Ho Ui»t U not with uw !■ i«»liiiit me, and h« that g»lh«roth not with m«,

•eattAntb."

Albkit in ordiuary times, when thiugs are r»'gular
and peaceful, a virtnous citizen will seek to escape
from the excitement of party-contention, and confine
hiraaelf to the unpretending discharge of his domestic
and particular duties, yet are there times of public
drnger and disquiet, when it is a crime to prefer our
proper ease to the turmoil of a more stirring life. For
when factions rise high, and wicked men stalk abroad,
and principles of turbulence and disorder fill the heads
of the ignorant, or proud usurpations disgrace the
hands of the powerful, or vice is openly countenenced,
and all things become perplexed and confused, then if
the wise and virtuous, the lovers of men's souls and of
men's happiness, stand aloof, leaving all to the evil to
destroy and to corrupt, and do not rather corae for-
ward, and openly and fearlessly declare themselves for
the side of justice, and throw into its scale the weight
of their influence and good counsels, they shall prove
themselves to be so cruelly indiflFerent to their coun-
try's weal, as to be rightly accounted among its ene-
mies. And hence Plato, in hia Republic, considers

th not with m9,

are regular
L to escape
and cuufine
lis domestic
8 of public
> prefer our
3g life. For
talk abroad,
ill the heads
liagrace the
mntenenced,
used, then if
souls and of
o the evil to
Br corae for-
emselves for
e the weight
f shall prove
• their couu-
long its ene*
lie, considers

BKiNo or ciihimtVi HUMk

2G3

Ibote citiieni on wicked, and to be punished with
death, >vh<>, in times of ])u!,lio diinirder and confution,
rcfunu to takt) a sidt), and declare themsulves of one
party.

It is in kome such sort that our Divine Redeemer
declares, in the words of my text, how He would have
us act. For again and again lie speaks of Himself im
having come on earth oh the leailer of a party at open
and deadly war with a hateful faction, that hath the
advantage in numbers, in rank, in wealth, and in
every worldly prominence. He came down to bring
not peace but the sword (Matt. x. 84) ; He came not
merely to enlighten the world, but to set it on fire.
(Luke, xii. 4U.) He declared and waged war ngainnt
the leagued j)ower8 of darkness and of earth ; and for
this purpose He gathered together His little band of
fol!owei-8, to whom He has committed its conduct,
^vhom He has charged to continue the warfare eveo
unto death. But then He will have no dastards in
His army; He will have no faint-hearted, cold, indif-
ferent followei-s, who will slink away when the sound
of the trumpet is heard. Lik«^ Gideon, neither those
that prefer their homes and families to His camp, nor
thoae who lay them down at full length by the tor-
rent to take deep draughts of eai-thly refreshment, will
He acknowledge as His partisans, or fit to be mustered
in His ranks. A few will do for Him, for He is come
forth to conquer; but those few must be His, hand
and heart, body and soul. At the same time, woe to
those who have shrunk from the danger when it came,
or have been ashamed of His cause when it seemed
poor and depressed; for on all such He hath pro-

■»r

254

ON BMNO OF OHBIST'8 BTDE.

iiounced sentence in the words of my text, saying
that they shall be accounted not merely as indifferent,
hut as hostile to Him. " He who is not with me is
against me ; and he that gathereth not with me, scat-
tereth."

Two things, it should seem, are worthy of our con-
sideration : first, what signs may we have, or what
test will Christ use, to determine whether we be with
Him or no ; secondly, what will be the consequence of
our not openly declaring on His side.

Had our blessed Saviour contented Himself with

the first portion of His sentence, we might have found

place for doubt or flattering uncertainty, regarding its

application. We might have said each one to himself:

" Oh I I surely am with Christ, for I believe in His

doctrine, and I hope in His mercies, and I abstain

from whatever his law forbids. I wish well to His

cause, and my heart is ever with those that forward

it." But the comment upon the first phrase in the

second part of the sentence will not allow us to reason

thus. " He that gathereth not with me, scattereth."

The service whereon Jesus is engaged is one of active

exertion, and we must join Him in it. We are not to

be lookers on, idle admirers of His or another's efforts,

but i\'orkmen as well as they. If it be a harvest

which He ie gathering of precious grain, that is, of

souls most dear to Him, you might as well be helping

the storm to scatter the ears away from his hand so

that they perish, as be a mtre spectator, refusing to

shara His labor. K it be His followers that He is

gathering together for some great work which reqtdres

the co-operation of all, you are in secret league with

text, saying
i indifTerent,
t with me is
ith me, scat-

• of our con-
ve, or what

• we be with
Qseqaence of

limself with
b have found
regarding its
te to himself:
lieve in His
nd I abstain
well to His
that forward
»hrase in the
T US to reason
I, scattereth."
one of active
Ve are not to
ithor's efforts,
be a harvest
in, that is, of
;ll be helping
n his hand so
r, refusing to
rs that He ia
rhich requires
t league with

ON DEiNo OF Christ's side.

255

His enemy to dispei-se His force, if you refase Him
your active aid, not only by yourselves coming, but
by moreover bringing others, to the standard. It is,
theii, an active stirring interest in His cause that He
exacts from all that wish to be accounted of His side
and not their good wishes and silent adhesion.

But upon what gi-ounds is this claimed, or how shall
we ascertain its measure ? Why, I will first say it is
demanded on the lowest possil ; grounds, and the
standard of its measure that I will propose is the
simplest and the nearest that I can find. What do
men in general expect you to do, when you profess
with earnestness or zeal to belong to any school or
party ? Surely Christ may ask as much, and with as
good reason. Let us, then, examine how He may judge
us by these tests.

First, He will see how men act who give themselves
up to the opinions of a particular school. They read
and meditate, day and night, on the works of its prin-
cipal mastei-s ; they discuss unceasingly thdr difficul-
ties, till they fancy they are all explained; they
admire their doctrines and their persons with such
enthusiasm, as sometimes to declare that they would
rather be in error with those wise men, than think
aright in company with the rest of mankind. They
seek proselytes to their sect with unwearying ardor ;
they combat strenuously all contradictions to its pro-
fessed principles ; they rise in zeal and often in auger
to rebut every imputation upon its honor; they wear
openly badges of their belonging to it; they boast of
its maxims being the rule of their conduct, and in
work they show it. Such were of old the disciples of

MMM

<(•','' 1 ■ ' ' • '

25ft

ON BKI'iO OF cubist's SIDE.

Plato and Aristotle ; sucli, Christ saw, were in His own
times, the Phaiisees and Sadduceea; such havy con-
tinned to our days the partisans of philosophical
systems. Can He reasonably expect less from «i8
disciples? can He in very decency propose a lower
test for Him or for us to judge by, whether we belong
to His side? Try youreelves, therefore, by it It is
simple in its application. It requires no great diving
into the hidden mysteries of your hearts, no unravel-
ling of its complicated feelings, it is a test by outward
and palpable manifestations. Do you then show but
a hundredth part of a similar attachment to the law
and doctrines of Christ, as these scholars have done to
the dark conjectures and uncertain theories of fallible
men ? Do you love them so as to exert your abilities
in propagating, defending, and ilkstratiug them ? Or
do you content youi-selves with silent approval, and
inactive concurrence ? And are ye then, the partisans,
the avowed followers of Christ Jesus ? Are ye with
Him, even as men are with one another? He will
look 'at men's conduct, when they place themselves de-
cidedly on one side, in times of political excitement.
How they will sacrifice their own opmions on particular
points to the views and aims of their party I How
they will inveigh against their opponents, and study
to baffle all their arts ! How they will rejoice in every
triumph of their friends,^ and in eveiy defeat of then-
adversaries, as though some personal advantage had
befallen them 1 How they crowd to the standard of
their leaders, when their active exertions are demanded,
and open their coffers when their wealth is needed I
And shall the Son of God, in reason, be content with

j ii ni i ii i .^. ii i . H^ i .niii i wuj i nii.iiiiii i iii i iL i ii *

ON BEING OF CURISTH BIDE.

257

in His own:

liavy con-
nlosophical
I from €Ii8
se a lower
r we belong
y it It is
;reat diving
no unravel-
by outward
a show but

to the law
ave done to
8 of fallible
our abilities
them ? Or
)proval, and
he partisans,
\re ye with
r1 He will
eraselves de»

excitement,
on particular
arty 1 How
8, and study
oic© in every
(feat of their
[vantage had

standard of
re demanded,
li is needed!
content with

less ? Shall He see men willing to be cozened, cajoled,
wrought up into enthusiasm, or even lashed into fury,
by the zeal of worldly partisanship, and when His
cause is treated, when His interests are to be defended,
think they shall be considered His partisans, because
they have not joined the opposite ranks, or because,
foi-sooth, they have honored His cause with tacit ap-
probation ? Is lie alone to be put o£F with cold fel-
lowship, and wavering fidelity, and call those friends
who proflTer it, while they themselves shall scout at
such prof -ssions in the paltry concerns of earth ?

But, moreover. He will see the hearty devotion and
fervent worship which each of us pays to the idols of
his own heart, and wonder how only on His behalf
we think so little quite enough. Did He find that the
follower of ambition, or the gatherer of wealth, or the
lover of praise, strove onward in the pursuit of his
particular object with son^e of that lukewarmness and
indiflference wherewith we all espouse and pretend to
love His cause ; nay, did He perceive that the wretched
slave of luxury, that the bondsman of passion, hugged
his chains with even the same half love which we.
His servants and luinistei's, put forth in His behoof,
then, perhaps, might He conclude that His cause was
not treated at least worse than othei's, however de-
grading the comparison, and consider the coldness of
His side as only resulting from some common and
univeraal influence.

But, good God ! how can He fail to observe, on the
contrary, that to the enemy's partisans this reproach
cannot be made : for see how they sleep not, and slum-
ber not, and relax not in their efforts for the mastery.

BMt

rion

258

ON BKINO OF CIIRIST'h BIDE.

See how tliey recruit their forces on every side, and
now by deceit, and now by violence, strengthen their
host. They have entered upon their cause with heart
and soul, and it is no other than to set up this
world in livalry and opposition to the Lord Jesus.
First, they have built it np with marvellous contriv-
ance, till its breadth and height seem greater far than
those of His Temple here below. Every passion has
contributed some alluring ornament to decorate it;
every science has labored, with its peculiar powers, to »
recommend it; its courts are filled with sounds of joy,
its walls are made to echo with shouts of defiance ;
its precincts are crowded with the young and the old,
the rich and the poor, the honored and the ignoble.
They have drunk of its charred pleasures till they are
intoxicated unto frenzy, and they sally forth from time
to time to assail the host of the God of Israel, and to
disperse His camp. Their march is steady and system-
atic, their assaults skilfully directed, their blows are
nervous and well aimed, their efforts unwearied and
persevering. The men of learning who have espoused
their side bring the weight of their various studies to
demolish our outworks; the sprightly and witty
sharpen the arrows of their satires to bring down their
defenders; the dissipated and vicious sap the founda-
tions of our moral truths, and the open scoffer and
blasphemer attempts to storm the strongholds of faith.
And when the Lord of Hosts looks round for his ad-
herents, alas 1 where are they ? True that He needeth
not our aid, that He knoweth well how to tread the
wine-press alone, as when He said : " I looked about,
and there were none to help. I sought, and there was

Nii mmi i j. i p." ff uj

WVrfT"

ON BEING CF CHRISX'd SIDE.

2.19

y side, and
gthen their
> with heart
set up this
Lord Jesus,
ous contriv-
ter far thaa
passioa has
decorate it;
p powers, to '
(unds of joy,
of defiance ;
and the old,
the ignoble,
till they are
'th from time
srael, and to
■ and system-
ir blows are
wearied and
ave espoused
us studies to
' and witty
ig down their
p the founda-
1 scojBfer and
lolds of faith,
d for his ad*
t He needeth
to tread the
ooked about,
tnd there was

none to give aid ; and mine own arm hath saved for
me, and my indignation itself hath helped me." (Is.
Ixiii. 5.) True it is, that, with but a whip of small
cords, the Son of God could in one instant drive back
all that attempt to bring dishonor upon Him and His
holy place. But no less true it is that He has some
right to expect those that call themselves His friends,
as zealous, at least, in His cause as His enemies are
against it. Surely it is but reasonable that He should
find those who affect to love Him as ready to protect
His interests on earth, to avenge His honor, to kindle
His love, and to promote His glory, as evil men, that
love him not, are to impugn, to disparage, and to of-
fend Him.

And yet is it so ? Will the activity of the two even
admit of a comparison ? Is not vice rampant and am-
bitions of display, and is not virtue skulking and ob-
Bcure ? Is not incredulity boastful, and is not sincere
belief retiring and silent ? Is not the love of the
world a living, stirring principle, and is not the love
of God buried in our heaiia as in a sepulchre ? Do I
then call upon you to do your works openly that they
may be seen by man? God forbid. Fast in secret,
that yonr Father, who seeth in secret, may reward
you ; pray in secret, that He may hear you in secret ;
give your alms so that your left hand know not what
your right hand doeth. But believe in the face of
men, and profess and avow that belief; honor Eira
openly before the world ; let it be seen that you are
not ashamed of the Gospel. Let your light shine be-
fore them, that they may be brought to glorify your
Father who is in Heaven. Nay, I will say more.

tmmm

—J

160

ON BKiNO OF Christ's sidhs.

Leave not the vindication of His honor and the exalt-
ation of His name to His priests, as though they were
bound by office to relieve you of all responsibility.
You are to be saved aa much as we, and this you will
not be if you be not with Christ, if you gather not
with Him. It ia not a cross hidden beneath your
cloaks, but one engraved on your foreheads that will
make you be acknowledged by Jesus before His angels
m one of His. Whoever has taken upon himself this
ilia badge, hath thereby become His sworn knight—
His champion, ever harnessed to do battle in His
quarrel, against any that shall presume to oppose or
contradict Him.

Surely, such criterions as these are suflSciently ob-
vious in their application, and of a standard alnaost
disparaging to the cause whereto they are applied.
But, thanks be to God, His cause has not been insult-
ed by such alone being proposed. There have been
those who have shown forth in their lives what it is
to be with Christ, to our shame as to their glory. The
saints in every age, they who have taken up their
cross and followed Him, have taught us in their con-
duct the estimate they made of this obligation. I
will not alarm you, nor attempt to confound you, by
turning your minds to the conflicts and torments of
martyrs, or to the glorious labora of apostles, or to
the austerities of penitents in the wilderness. I will
not remind you of those who watched entire nights in
prayer, or who fasted for years ib expiation of one
sin, or who clothed themselveR in sackcloth under
royal robes. Yet even of all ^bose, I might ask you
was thei-e one who thought ko was doing more than

1 the exalt-
1 they were
ponsibility.
lis you will
gather not
neath your
s that will
?t His angels
himself this
n knight —
ttle in His
» oppose or

Iciently ob-
lard almost
ire applied,
been insult-
I have been
I what it 18
r glory. The
en up their
n their con-
^ligation. I
und you, by
torments of
(ostles, or to
ness. I will
tire nights in
ition of one
tcloth under
ght ask you
r more than

ON BKiNo OF Christ's sidk.

261

waa necessary for him to be avowed as one of Christ's
side, as exerting himself more than any zealous fol-
lower and lover of his Saviour holds himself obliged.
But rather I would ask you to look at the devotion of
heart wherewith each of the saints gave himself nnre-
strictedly to God, and to His service, to the advance-
ment of His ^'lory, and the diffusion of His love. See
how with them the zeal for God's truth and for His
honor had become an affection of their souls ; how
some of them have so loved His law as to have swoon-
ed away upon hearing mention of an offence against
Him ; how others have wept in the bitterness of their
hearts when they have seen His commandments vio-
lated ; how any one of them would have given his life,
and thought it well bestowed, to prevent a single sin 1
And if this estimate of our duty appear to us exor-
bitant and far beyond our reach, what shall we say if
our Saviour should choose, in rigor, to measure it by
that of His own example ? For if He call upon us to
be with Him, it was that He was first with us, and He
gathered us up first, before He asked us to gather with
Him. Was His an indolent or a cold-hearted inteiest
in us ? Did He hand over our interests to others, or
leave our cause- to be pleaded even by His angels ?
Can a fowler use more art to surprise and ensnare the
bird, than He did to take us captive to His sweet law,
watching every opportunity to seize upon our affec'
tions ? Can the enthusiast pursue the object of his
researches with half the devotedness, earnestness, and
perseverance, wherewith He pressed on, with untiring
eagerness, to the possession of our soula ? Can a m^
ther with greater love watch over a sickly child, and

fT-jmm

tmmmmmttm*'^

169 ON BKINO Ok- OHRMt's MDB.

care for ita recovery, than He hath felt over ns in mii-
ery and siu, and when striving to save us from perdi-
tion ? Will He not, then, justly upbraid us wl *n He
contrasts our service with that which the world re-
ceives fi-om ita votaries, viewed in comparison with
what each side has rectsived from ita leader. " They,"
He will justly say, " labored so much and so earnestly
to serve it, and yet it suffered nothing for them, it felt
nothing for them. Not one of the objects of their ap-
plause and flattery would, they well knew, scorch a
hair of his head to assist them ; not one of their false
and hollow idols would have put his finger into the
flame to save them 1 And yet, even without love, they
were devoted in their slavery and frantic in their zeal.
And I, who have stood by you to assist you at my
own proper cost, who have spared neither pains ncr
labor to make you mine, neither sweat nor blood to
purchase you, neither happiness nor life to save you
—shall I not ask in return some proportion of fervor
and zeal, of earnestness and love ? Or shall it be said
that ye are more easily won to thraldom and stripes,
by contempt and ingratitude, than to favor and honor
by kindness and affection ? "

Such, my brti-nren, would be a just estimate of
what our blessed Saviour has a right to expect from
every one of us, that we may be able to say that we
are with Him in some measure, as He may say He has
been with us. But if we neglect His admonition, and
be content to stend neuter in the daily conflicts be-
tween Him and His adversaries, what must ensue «
He Himself has told us, "He that is not with me is
against me."

h i n !iiiiiw! , l fin. fj i i i iii;i !ij i . iff .y * - ' i' J ' I ' ! ' ■■ '! '!' ! "" -i ''

"^HvS^^^

er ns m mis'
from perdi*
US wl tn He
,e world re-
arison with
r.

80 earneatly
them, it. felt
s of their ap-
3W, scorch a
)f their false
ger into the
ut love, they
in their zeal.

you at my
3r pains ncr
lor blood to
to save you
on of fervor
lall it be said

and stripes,
or and honor

; estimate of
I expect from
) say that we
iy say He has
monition, and
J conflicts be-
must ensue \
}t with me ia

ON BEINO UK CUUI8TH 6IDB.

268

I might here, my brethren, place before yon the
frightful consideration of what God hath in 'store in
the treasures of His wratli, for those that hate Him.
I might trace for you the picture of His judgments
denounced in the Old Law against His enemies and
people's ; the awful imagery of plagues and scourges,
defeats and captivity, under which He has veiled the
vengeance wherewith He will pursue His rivals in do-
minion. I might take you, in imagination, to the con-
templation of that final consummate woe, wherein such
•8 have been against God in life must be under Him
for eternity. But such topics as these would be ab-
horrent from my present discourse, and lead us too
far astray from its more practical though less stiiking
snbject. Suffice it, then, to say, that we shall be con-
sidered by Christ as enlisted on the opposite side, and
as contending against Him.

When in ordinary contests men elect their side,
whatever other motive they may have, they must be
greatly influenced by the hope of ultimate victory.
They will seldom choose to support a cause which
they already know to be desperate. Even the most
furious faction will not long persevei-e in its course,
without some hope that in the end, however j'emote,
success will crown its efforts. But in the two sides
engaged in the spiritual conflict, no such ambiguity of
issue can exist. Christ, the conqueror over death and
the grave, must necessarily triumph over all His ene-
mies. Every one that hath risen up against Him will,
in the end, be beaten down, overthrown, and irr3-
coverably destroyed. See, then, I will not say the
risk, but the certain fate, that you incur, if you once

964

ON BflMO OF CnilST'u BlDl.

allow yonrsflf to U numbered among those who stuinl
agaiMt the Son of God. There is no encai •, i\o hope ;
your lo«8 is certa'ii. Vv ill yon, then, expcae yours^^lf
to b« placed among tho«o foes of G<>d, by your negh-
genco and indifl'uiencel

But «uch a lot would be not only feai-fal, but most
pitifully incurred. For even here on eaith >ou would
experience the fate of all faint-hearted persons, who
have not sufficient resolution to adopt a decided conrne.
You will pot be trusted by the zealous fnendrt of God,
afraid that your timidity would betray them, and
bring scandal and reproach upon His cai.se, should it,
in your person, be exposed to trial by the cuffs or op-
position of the world. Your own convictions and con.
science will not allow you ever to join with heart the
counsels of the wicked ; and so will you go on, luke-
warm and negligent, halting between good and evil,
virtue and vice, God and lib enemies, unclaimed, un-
valued, unloved by eit ler.

But, speaking humanly, even the abjectest slave ^f
his pivssions has at least what seems to him some
equivalent for the heavenly gifts which he throws
away. He has a tumultuous joy around him, and
some intoxication within him, to shut out the whispers
of conscience; am! he gives way to the impulse of pas-
sion with a willingness that, for the time, assumes the
appearance of a pleasure. But th." Christian who,
too weak to resist the current of example, yet too
well convinced to yield without remoree, is nee saarily
carri^^d away from time to time by the torrent into
transgression, with all the conscionsness of his guilt,
and without even the miserable compensation of dead-

.^tmmtmmmmmll

mmmmimm

OK BKiNo Of onmwr't ridb.

se5

whu siiind
%no hope;

i.3« yours»*lf
your negli-

al, bnt most
b you would
i>;rion8, who
cided course.
ewh of God,
' them, and
le, should it,
B cuflfe or op"
ons and con-
ith heart, the
go on, luke-
)od and evil,
Qclaimed, un*

jtest slave of
o him some
h he throws
nd him, an<'
the whispers
ipulse of pas-
', assumes the
[iristian who,
nple, yet too
is nec'saarily
» torrent into
of his guilt,
ation of dead*

nesi to its sting. And oven if he escaped this more
decided incurrence of offence and punishment, ho will
find him(<«lf, at the end «>f his course, h nth( , hot nor
cold, neither fit for Heaven, nor, in his own est mation,
Worthy of hell, but to God's sense most loathsome, and
utforly unworthy to bo ranked amoi*g His frienda.
(Rev. iii. 16.)

But, my brethren, I have said that when tlio con-
flict is aished between the Son of God' and His ene-
my, Hia victory is certain ; and that victory shall be
graced by a triumph worthy of it« cause. It will he
on that glorious day when, suiTOuuded by His angels,
with His banner displayed, He shall come to judpe
the vvorld. And in that triumph we must all find
some place. Now, when anciently such pageanta wei*«
performed, they who attended on them were of two,
and only two, jiassci. For first there came, rejoicing
in their i ader's glory, and feeling part therein, they
who had fought with him his well-earned fieJ'ls, and
helped to procure him so much honAr ; their coante-
nancM were cheeiful, their step h d, ♦heir helmets
were wieathed with laureif*, and th* s' )nted forth
their cry of victory. But behind the car would come
a aorrowful spectacle, of many with weeping eyes, and
dow» aat looks, and hair dishevelled, and torn gar-
mentd of ro^^nming. Of theie there were some, who
boldly with arms in tlieir han Is, had fought and been
overcome ; but there were not a few who had handled
no weapon, and struck no blow, ut who, without
courage to abandon he cause of those that earrounded
them, had neglected to join that of the conqueror, and
had remained at home in neutral repose, till swept

ON BF.iKo or cnniHT'i kIDI.

nwny, fli eneniiei, into perp^tnftl captivity. Now, hnH
one of thM« ioiight to nvert thin fat«», and to escnpe
heing numbered among more nctive enemies, who li id
deserved a heroic doom, he miint nee<l« have plead' d
a right to \v\»n into the oth<»r clas«, to Btand among
those who had fought with the victorious host. ' II
would not have sufficed him to plead that ho had not
measured weapons with them in actual battle; he
must show that he hud combatted in their ranks. He
would have justly been asked to state in what con-
flicts he had been engaged, under what special banner
he had fought, at whose side he had stood. He would
have been interrogated what scare or wounds he had
to exhibit ; such as none but the enemy's weapons
could have inflicted. Could he but give such proofs,
he would have been received with open arras into the
society of the victor and his followers ; if not, he must
remain among those who have deserved no mercy at
their hands.

And even so it will be at the triumph of Him who
" vauquisheth the world." Beneath His cross His bat-
tles have been fought ; and none have fought in them,
and none must triumph for them, save they who have
fearlessly upheld and defended it, against the scora
. and the reproach of its enemies. By Him who hung
upon it hath the warfare been conducted : and none
have partaken in it, and none must be crowned for it,
who hath not heard from His lips it^ watchword, and
obeyed His commands. For Him who died on it have
its fierce blows been struck, and its wounds received ;
and none have felt th«mj, and none can claim reward
for them, who hath not willingly and joyfully endured

ON BKIItO or CIIRIHTfl HIDE.

267

y. Now, had
»nd to escape

iniffl, who hnd
|jav« i>lru(l»»l
Rtantl nrnutig
ions host. It
int ho hnd not
«l battlo ; he
eir ranks. He
J in what con*
special banner
k1. He would
rounds he had
jmy'a weapons
ire snch proofs,
I arras into the
if not, he must
d no mercy at

ih of Him who
s cross His bat-
fought in them,
they who have
linst the scora
Him who hung
3ted : and none
crowned for it,
watchword, and
died on it have
>ond8 received;
n claim reward
oyfuUy endured

pain and all suffrtring for His <l^ar sake. For mark,
bow strongly H« was phiwd, unib-r a fsvirful ♦♦mblem
even on that cross, to dt'claro that th<'r« was near
it no standing-place fur the cold and indiffi-reut;
that two clase«'s alone might sunouod it — of frifn<U
or of foes. I will not ask you to look upon the crowd,
ap,d see on one side Mary and John, and oo the
other the brutal soldiery dicing for the seamloss vest of
Jesns ; nor, looking further off, to see how only two par-
ties appear, of such as with the prints and eldei-s mock
and insult Him, and such as vvith the centuriou and och-
en beat their breasts and own Him for the Son of Qod ;
nor, again, to see how there is no intermediate order
between the pious women who openly weep after Him,
and buy spices to embalm His body, or Joseph of An-
mathea, who boldly goes in to Pilate to beg it, and
the cruel wretches who offer Him to drink, gall and
vinegar. No; I will rather tell you to look upon
those three crosses on the summit of Calvary, for an
exemplification of the awful doctrine of my text. It
would have seemed that in snch an hour, in such a
state, there could have been but one feeling in the
hearts of the three who h mg on them ; that common
calamity would have made all friends, or that if self-
ishness excluded in the two earthly sufferers all interest
in their companion's fate, it would at most have pro-
duced a quiet and passive indifference regarding it. But
no ; even there no such a state was allowed ; and God,
in His inscrutable judgments, permitted that while
the one should declare himself the partisan of Jesus,
and openly worship Him, and acknowledge Him in
the face of an insulting outrageous mob, the other

2G8 ON BEING OF CHRIST's SIDE.

should forget his own suflferings to join in their scoITb,

and die blaspheming Him ! ^ , ,, -n

And in this way, methinks, the hour of death will
decide forus all, and range us necessarily in one or
other of these two unmodified irreconcilable classes.
The measure, then, of what we deserve will be that
'which we have done. Whatever we have done or
Buflfered for Christ's sake, will then seem to us bbbo
much solid gain. To have done nothing against Him
will be a burden the less upon our conscience, but it
will b9 no assurance to our hopes. And then, too, all
those foolish motives for reserve, p11 that false pru-
dence and bashfulness which made us hide our princi-
ples from the world, and afraid of its censures if we
declared that we loved and served God, will appear
BO bare and disgraceful that we shall be confounded
at the thought of the opportunities of good they
have caused us to let slip. We shall see what an
honorable thing it would have been to appear before
Jesus with some marks of tribulation upon ns, en-
dured for His sake, with some token of battle, or
' some scar of stripes inflicted by His enemies and
ours, from decided hostility waged in His name.
But still more glorious will appear, could we come
into His presence loaded with a nobler spoil, a booty
of eouls, snatched by our zeal from the jaws of the
lion, and from the mouth of the pit, to have the tes-
timony of many whom we leave on earth, that but
for our active and loving exertions they might have
been lost ; to have the crowns of some already m
bliss cast by them upon our heads, as we stand before
the judgment-seat, as gained throigh our zealous

MiBiWB i ai J iti t ^ i ' i.jij.iM

IfH

ia their 8co£&,

of death will
irily in one or
jilable classes.
3 will he that
have done or
jm to us as so
g against Him
iscience, but it
d then, too, all
that false pru-
lide ourprinci-
censures if we
od, will appear
he confounded

of good they
il see what an

appear before
n upon ns, eu-
m of battle, or
is enemies and

in His name,
could we come
r spoil, a booty
the jaws of the
o have the tes-

earth, that but

ley might have

ome already in

we stand before

gh our zealois

ON BEING OF CIIRIST's SIDE.

269

efforts in Chi-ist's cause. Yes, they who shall then
gather up such laurels shall be truly allowed to have
gathered with Him, and shall in their turn be gath-
ered as good wheat into *.he granary of His eternal

Father. ,

Encouraged by this hope, let us not be discouraged
by the difficulties we may have to encounter, any more
than is the husbandman by the heat and toil of his
harvest, or the humbler gleaner by the slow labor of
his gatliering. Each looks forward to the long enjoy-
ment of what a few days' labor will procure him.
Let us enrol ouraelves in the army of God, let us be
of the number of His p jldiers by whom He opposes
and overcomes the world. Let our voiceo be heard
in every protest against its errors and corruptions ;
let our example be a living contradiction of nts
baneful maxims. Let us fight with Chnst here
below, that we may reign with Him hereafter in
Heaven.

•^

It* A

SERMON XIII.

Matt. iv. 1.

"Than Jmos wm led by the Spirit into the dewrt, to be tempted hj

thedwrU."

I KNOW not. my brethren, how the word of God
could have declared more strongly the perfect holiness
of our blessed Saviour's character, than by the pas-
sage of His life commemorated in this day's gospel
It records the eflForts of the wily tempter to draw from
Him one proof of frailty, or to stain at least the purity
of His mind, by the passage of some evil thought.
But see in what strange and powerful ways this was
attempted ; see what a gigantic effort of wicked might
was necessary even to make the trial ! We need not
be led forth into a desert, to wrestle alone and face to
face with our adversary. Whatever we see, whatever
we touch and feel, is to us matter of danger; the very
breath of the world is fuel to our lusts, the very con-
tact with mankind is to us contagion : and had the
e'Jil one in like manner been allowed to choose for the
holiest anchorites of the desert a place for temptation,
he would have transported them from their caverns
and theii* date-trees and their trickling fountains, on
to the embroidered couches of Damascus (Os. iii. 12) ;
or, as St. Jerome tells us, he was in imagination cax'-

ftlliJUiMil l Mi l lllllftll^^

to be tempted by

word of God
erfect holiness
n by the pas-
day's gospel. .
p to draw from
east the purity
evil thought,
ways this was
•wicked might
We need not
)ne and face to
J see, whatever
nger; the very
, the very con-
: and had the
• choose for the
for temptation,
I their caverns
T fountains, on
B (Os. iii. 12);
aagination cai*-

ON TEMPTATION.

271

ried into the golden chambers and festal assemblies of
thn Imperial City. But He was not like unto us, on
whom the world had exerted in vain its tainting influ-
ence ; the tempter had seen with jealousy its example
powerless, and its maxims contemptible when tried on
Him, and could not flatter himself into hope of success
save by an unwonted trial in a lonely wilderness, apart
from every sympathy and every support.

Yet, did not even this suffice. We require not
much allurement to make ns trespass in the gratifica-
tion of our desires ; the ordinary daily claims of life
are our incentives to excess ; we are intemperate in
satisfying nature's wants, we are dissipated in the en-
joyment of necessary recreation. What a lofty idea
of our Lord's superiority over the rest of men must
the observation of His life during its thirty yeare
have suggested to the evil one, to make him wait for
the hunger produced by a forty days' fast before ho
would venture to whisper to Him a thought of intem-
perate desire, or suggest the use of His own lawful
power to shorten the period of probation Himself had
chosen !

Wo want no unusual splendors to tempt our ambi-
tion ; crowns or sceptres need not be hung before us
to stir up the restless strivings of our inordinate
wishes ; the gilded toya of fashion, which a touch may
break, the gaudy trappings of any nominal dignity,
which are but the livery of the public slave, are quite
enough to make us break our peace of mind and our
eternal welfare upon Ambition's wheel. How su-
premely raised above every range of this towering
and rapacious passion must His soul have seemed to

.v-^

mm»*m

273

ON TEMPTATION.

the king cf pride when he thought it necessrrv, that
he mighi- give his power a fair trial, to raise Him on a
lofty mountain and unroll before Him the mimic rep-
resentation of all the earth's dominions, with their
mighty cities, and their huge armied, aud their costly
merchandise, and their sumptuous buildings; and,
having seduced the first Adam, in all the power of in-
nocence and primeval righteousness, with a tempting
fruit and its unseen prerogatives, attempt to conquer
the second, whom as yet he deemed but a simple, and
consequently a fallen and frnil man, by offering Him
the visible and tangible empire of the world !

But, in one short word, it is not fo solitary conflict
with this arch-foe, that the Spirit of God would send
us forth, as Saul sent David to his single combat with
Goliah, thereby to accomplish the certain discom-
fiture of the evil host. What, then, must Hs have
been who had chosen as the champion of God, the
sure avenger of man's early frailty, the crusher of the
wily serpent's head, and destroyer of his precious might I
Yes, it is in this glorious light that we should view
the victory achieved by our Redeemer, over His
tempter in the desert, as the accomplishment, in a
great part, of that firat prophecy, as the fulfilment of
the type which man's first parent presented, of a
second and better Adam ; in a word, as the solution,
in contest, and in victory, of the great momentous
mystery of temptation,

I have called temptation " a mystery," as forming
pai-t of what the apostle bo well calls, "the mystery
of iniquity" (2 Thess. ii. T), and being, in fact, the
principal insti-vuroiit whereby it " worketh" evil. To

'WPPBW''!'-/ ■■'.'■••■-■!

ON TOMPTATION.

273

essrrv, that
le Him on a

mimic rep-

with their
their costly
lings ; and,
power of in-

a tempting
, to conquer

simple, and
ffering Him
rid!

itary conflict
I would send
combat with
bain discom-
ist Hs have

of God, the
rusher of the
ecious might !
I should view
r, over His
shmeut, in a

fulfilment of
3sented, of a
the solution,
t momentous

'," as forming
"the mystery
', in fact, the
ith"evil. To

it is to be traced, a<3 to a root, all the present condition
of man, his strangely compounded nature, aud the
providential workings of God in his behalf. Upon its
isaue hung, for one fearful moment of suspense to cre-
ation, the weal and woe of every generation of our
race; their immorality, or their death ; their adoption,
or their banishment ; their innocence, or their sinful-
ness ; their friendship, or their enmity with God. And,
when that issue was painfully decided against us,
what a long train of evil consequences did the one
side of these alternatives produce, through the physi-
cal derangement, and the moral degradation, of man 1
Had our first father proved victorious, +hjii one temp-
tation would have been the only test of our fidelity,
and the free will of onr entire kind would have been
fixed in a rootedness of purpos*^ for good, in an inflex-
ibility of tendency towflvds the divine will, which
would have defied and prevented every repetition of
the trial. It was the great sti-uggle, whether the
power given to the evil one to tempt, or that bestowed
upon man to resist, should become perpetual ; whether
evil should have an active .principle in creation ; or
virtue, and moral perfection, be its exclusive law.
The seducer triumphed, man was vanquished; and
the former gained the power for which he had wrestled,
that of ever disturbing the moral order of things, by
his suggestions ; of ever holding the iron sceptre of an
antar: ..;.'?. inf.uence in the working out of our desti-
nies ari f keeping up an eternal conflict between
his darkness and the light of God, between death and

life, evil and good.
Evejy religion, e/eryphilosopLr, had been aware

•j;

ON TEMPTATION.

of this strange conflict, of the unaccountable disturb-
ance Thioh seemed to have occurred in the nature of
man ; of the torn, disjointed appearance which facul-
ties nearly connected present, as though riven asunder
by a suddon convulsion, and of the medley of precious
ore, an 1 vile drose, which some unnatural revolution
had produced in his constitution. Every attempt to
solve the anomalous problem led to error; the phi-
losophy of the east imagined an evil co-ordinate
power which divided sovereignty with the better
dt:it>, and thus, at once, circumscribed the infinity,
and^ destroyed the perfection of God. The Indian
invented a still more fearful representative of this
power, in a sanguinaiy Godhead, crowned and begirt
with serpents and human skulls, and armed in his
many hands with weapons of destruction, beneath
which the human race is crushed, and driven into
the flames; while at his side a goddess of milder as-
pect, receiving their supplication, represents the re-
deeming or regenerating power, which yet remains
after the great catastrophe.* Others, in fine, recurred
to an eternal inflexible destiny, which ruled over gods
themselves, thwarted their benevolent intentions, and
thus made evil pai-amount to tht very attributes of

the Deity,

But there was another aspect, still more solemn,
wherein this problem presented itself to the individual
solution of each mind, and appeared involved in still
more irreconcilable conditions. The soul of each is to
its possessor the scene of conflicts which he cannot

• Bve MJd Vun.'d. See " Creutier, Iqr Qulgnoftut," Pl»*e8. % ^

-mm

^^5^9

ble distarb-
le nature of
vhich facul-
ven asunder
r of precious
I revolution
r attempt to
or ; the phi-
co-ordinate
the better
the infinity,
The Indian
itive of this
I and begii-t
rmed in his
on, beneath
driven into
)f milder as-
sents the re-
yet remains
fine, recurred
ed over gods
tentions, and
attributes of

more solemn,
he individual
olved in still
I of each is to
eh he cannot

PUtes, fig. 24.

ON TEMPTATION.

275

compose. He seems to find in himself a two-fold be-
ing, a diversity of wills and desires, whereof one side
ever seems opposed to his Imppiness, and hardly to
belong to himself. He is conscious of evil suggestions,
proposed with a suddenness and an inconsequence, that
make them seem to come from without, — of envious or
malicious whisperings, which no inward reflection seems
to have raised, of proud emotions which spring up
with a startling newness, for which his familiar senti-
ments may in nowise account. And he feels that he
loaths and fears these unsought ideas : and he turns
him from them, yet they haunt him as phantasies which
disappear not, when the eyelids are closed : and he
adjures them by every name that is most poweriul,
but they laugh at his spell, as though raised not by
him ; and he grapples with them manfully, but they
resist, and wrestle with him, as though having in Ihem
an energy and life distinct from his, and if he peree-
vere and conquer, he seems to notice the sullenness of
the retiring foe, who^ ever and anon, looks round again
and wishes to renew tho skirmish, and keeps him for
some space armed and upou his guard, till once more
he feels himself alone. In his solemn musings upon
the holiest things, he experiences, at whiles, an imper-
tinent intrusion on the part of discordant and uncalled-
for recollections ; in his secretest communion with his
own spirit upon the surest truths, the voice no less
secret of a scoffing advei-sary seems to be heard, pro-
posing ill-timed and jarring objections, which, even
suppressed, cast a gloom over his consoling occupation,
and spread a, mysterious cloud over the blessed visions,
which his eye had caught. The purest soul seems to

■

tsamt

276

ON TBMPTATIOM.

itself, at times, defiled by the presence of monstrous
imaginings, before which it cowers down in shnnking
hoiTor; the aspirations of the most perfect after a
union with God, are checked and arrested l.y the niter-
position of a shifting adveiiinry who seems ever to
come before them; and the blessedness whereof man
is capable, end which should be summed up in virtue,
is alloyed and disturbed by the interference of another
power, mischievous, as unhappy, with every effort for
its consummation.

This complication of moral phenomena, forms that
mystery of temptation, which the revelation of God
hath alone sufficiently explained, and which the gospel
of this day has abundantly set forth.

For, in the fii-st place, we here learn that, as m the
first trial of man's fidelity, the evil spirit actively and .
pers^verently strives to bring us into the commission
of sin which at once explains that instigation to wick-
edness which, in spite of our desires, and our repug-
nance, obstinately pursues us. Difficult as it is, to
account for this powerful energy opposed to our w^hes
and endeavors, though apparently spnngmg from
faculties under the mind's control, we should have
attributed it simply to our now inborn corrupUon, had
not God's holy word taught us to view the conflict m
a more solcmu light. "For our wresthng, says St.
Paul " is not against flesh and blood, but against prin-
cipalities and poweni ; against the rulers of the world
of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness m
high pW-es." (Ephes, v^. 12.) Hence, we see that
the evil power is active indeed, though so only peiv
missively, and subordinately to a wisely-counselling

l imn. .Ai i M W iwmwHwwun- •

ON TKMPTATIOIC.

277

r monstrous
n tibrinkinji;
feet after a
)y the inter-
ims ever to
hereof man
ip in virtue,
!e of another
iry effort for

i, forms that
tion of God
h the gospel

lat, as in the
actively and .
} commission
ition to wick-
d our repug-
t as it is, to
to our wishes
ringing from
should have
)rruption, had
the conflict ia
ling," says St.
t against prin-
i of the world
wickedness in
), we see that
I so only peiv
sly-counselling

and well-directing power of good. We learn, that tiio
tempter, is, in fact, a spirit that having an existence
distinct from ours, can yet communicate inscrutably
with our minds ; and thus without debasing, like tht-ni
of old, the supreme Godhead into a conttst with a
rival power, or still more, into a submission to a con-
straining destiny, the warfare is transferred to a lower
stage, while man is elevated into the champion against
an order originally higher than his own, > ^t than his
more fallen ; and the justice and gooduess of God in
this permission, to harass and annoy, is amply vindi-
cated in the triumphs of His might, through such
feeble instruments as we, in the splendor of reward
which crowns the victories of His conquerors, and in
the unspeakable grandeur of redemption which could
not have been without the existence of thisv rampant
energy of evil.

All this is, in fact, displayed most practically in the
gospel I am expounding. In it, we see the spotless
Son of God, whose thoughts were united ever with
the all-perfect mind of God, even Him on whom no
taint of man's spiritual mortality had been breathed,
subjected to the same trial, and the same engagement
with the spirit of wickedness. And, shall the justest,
then, amongst us repine, if he continue, in spite of
every effort, to be assailed ? Or, shall the purest of us
complain, if thoughts which make him shudder, dis-
turb the sei-enity of his holy meditations t Who shall
be exempt from inward tribulation, when Jesus, after
forty days' fast is tempted to sensuality 1 Who shall
be safe from the world's dangers, when on the summit
of a rocky mountain, in a desert, I£e m\B allured towards

ON TlMFIATIOrf.

ambition. No: here, indeed, the juit may lenrn tbat,
even their vciy holiness Hhall ha to them raatttr of
danger in the wily enemy s hand; fo- they »hall 1ms
drawn through it into peril of i>re8umi>tuou» pride,
and be it^cited to fancy that they are secure against a
fall, because "God hath given His angels a charge
over thorn, to bear thera up in their hands. (Matt,
iv. 6.) What greater comfort could we, who are im-
perfect and sinful, have in the humiliation of our con-
stant incitements to traosgresn. ihan thus to s«e how
lie, who >va8 undefiled from birth, should have been
assailed with untiring obH'inacy, and unchecked ef.
froutery, in this. His three-fold temptation.

But our courage will Gurely i>e much increased by
the consideration of how h( re is exemplified another
part in the mysterious action of this wicked i )wer, it«
dependence on a divine permission. M. Paul has
beautifully expressed this assurance, when he tells the
Corinthians, that "God is faithful, who will not suffer
us to be tempted above that which we are able, but
will make also with temptation issue (or means of es-
cape), that we may be able to bear." (1 Cor. x. 18.)
This matter is amply set out in the touching history
of Job, wherein the tempter is represented as obtain-
log a leave to ae^ay that faithful servant, under con-
ditions and limitations which God held in His hand.
And when the first strokes, heavy indeed, and to
mortal endurance terrible, had but confirmed His viv
tue, and ha. dened Him for a weightier calamity, those
limits were further enlarged, and the reins of permis-
sion somewhat relaxed, that so, his virtue might be
perfected and rewarded, through the infirmity of the

sosssim

MWATIOK.

270

^ lenrn tbat,

!> nifttt*'!' of

ley «liaU Im
tuouB pride,
ire agaiDSt a
sis a charge
ids. (Matt
who are im-
1 of our con-
! to nee how
d have beeu
ncheckcd ef-

increased by
ified another
ed 1 )wer, its
^t. Paul has
a he tells the
irill not sufl'er
are able, but
• raeaua of es-
L Cor. X. 13.)
shing history
ted as obtain*
it, under con-
in His hand,
ileed, and to
rmed His vii^.
alamity, those
ins of permis*
tue might be
firmity of the

Urth. (8 Cor. .xiii. 9.) Kv«n so do we And in our
gosiwl TKii'ty years Jtmis bad lived, quiet and n*
disl hI bv the attempts of the vvicked one; but
when, at length, it was time for the manift-station of
His splendid virtues befoiv the worid, and when it
was decrefd fitting by His alinigliiy Father, that Ho
should give glory to Him through His prowess against
the foe, the Ho^ "Spirit lend- Him by the hand into
the lists, for that purpose pre] a .d, and the infernal
dragon is unchained, to fepl hit, ining baffled, his
venomous gall crushed out, nd bin might trampled
under foot, by one in the huiuun form whereat he had
ever mocked.

Thus we b. ) that, even where danger was sure of
failure, yet a disposing order of Providence chose the
time, and place, and outward circumstances of the con-
flict: and how much more will that watchfulness,
jealous of our welfare, as of its own honor, be exer-
cised, when the frail aud the feeble are summoned to
engage ? Yea, 8( iixions was our beloved Saviour for
our advantage an<' instruction, that He submitted even
in the more essential circumstances of His tempta-
tions, to a likeness, so far as consistent with His un-
defiled nature, with those which we may suffer. For
three-fold, as you have been taught, is the battle-front
of our warfare, and three-fold was the form of His
temptation. Inasmuch as we have been called to make
ft triple renunciation of the world, the flesh, and the
devil. He, on His part, received the attacks of these
very three forms tinder which the evil principle pre-
sents itself.
For, as to the world and its gaudy pomps, it as-

.jmmm

S80

ON TkMm'AltOM.

Mult««a Him whon on the moiinUln, in tliat oxhihUion
of the kingdonjn of fftrtli which w«re «»fr«i««l Him, on
th« unworthy contlition of «loinj? homiige, iw too niuny
have (lone, to th.> wickiMl one, whoso eUven they be-
came to gain pre-eminenw. Th«n, m touching the
fleih, it could not indeed urge and prick Him, m tl»e
rest of men, with unholy de«ire«; but, it strove to
persuade Him to a premature miracle for the gratifl-
cation of its wants, and the satisfaction of a craving
appetite, sharpened by so long a fiwt. And then the
devil, in his more proper shape, appeared as Lucifer
the king of pride, instigating Him to conflde preHump.
tuously in His great holiness, nnd acceptance by God,
and, in haughtiness of heart, throw Himself hewUoug
into the anus of guardian-spirits, who waited on Him
to keep Him from a fall.

Thus it was that Ho determined to show Himself as
tho apostle hjia described Him, " tempted in all things
like as we are, yet without siu." (Heb. iv. 15.) Ah I
yes, my dear brethren, here is the great diflference be-
tween us; here, unhappily, the resemblance termi-
nates. He went through His trial unscathed ; wc too
often come away crippled and sadly hurt, if not posi-
tively overcome. But let us not therefore repine.
T^t us rather rejoice, that He, our champion and head,
did, by the completeness of His victory, fully avenge
the overthrow of our first parent, in our first tempti».
tion ; and in our flesh, win again the crown which our
father, in the flesh, had forfeited. And hence, we see
a certain proportion kept between their two tempta-
tions, yet, 80 that the contest wherein the enemy was
to be baffled, should be such, as to give him every

IE?«i

at «xhibitton
ar«<l Him, uu
, as tt)o miiny
Avtm they be-
touchitig the
c llirn, M tilt)

it itrove to
)r the gmtifl-

of ft craving
A.n(l thea the
•ed M Lucif«r
1 11(1 e prt'sump-
lance by God,
iself headlong
rnited ou Htm

low Himself as
d in all things
iv. 15.) Ahl
difference be-
ablance terrai-
athed ; wc too
ift, if not posi-
jrefore repine,
pion and head,
y, fully avenge
ir fli-st temptiv
own which our
i hence, we see
ir two tempta-
tbe enemy was
five him every

;j i y > .; l jll,t

B>ai

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

ti^ IIIIIM

I.I

lis

2.0

1.25

JA 111.6

Photographic
Corporation

"^^^.

f/j

•1>'

^<b

^'i

».

'^■1^

V- ^

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 1<J580

(716) 872-4503

(/.

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historicat Microreproductions / lnstil«t Canadian de microreproductions historiques

ON TE51PTATI0N.

281

apparent chnnce of victory. The first sinner was
allured by a fruit tempting to the eye, amidst a para-
dise overgrown by all that man's appetite conld re-
quire or desire, to be gathered at will; the second
Adam was solicited to the allaying of actual hunger,
by simple bread, in a howling wilderness, where none
could relieve His wants. Our first parents were se-
duced by Ihe vain and impossible otfer of becoming
like unto God : our Regenerator was assayed by the
feasible promise of becoming an earthly sovereign.
For as in the first respect, the greatness of the urgen-
cy, so in the second, the smallness of the reward —
gi-eat in itself, but still within compass— must have
made oui x)rd's temptation the more formidable.
And yet He conquered, where the othei-s were over-
come : so to make the enemy of man not a little to
rue iiis early success, in the mortification of this great
discomfiture, which opened a new unending series of
victories to be achieved by regenerated followera, wbo
thus were taught to conquer, through His example
and in His name.

For, after all, my brethren, the great resolution of
the mystery here given by Him, so far as we are con-
cerned, consists in His justifying to us the mercies of
God in His permission of this work of evil ; by show-
ing how necessary it is unto our crown, and how easily
it may be turned to our advantage. Yes ; the short-
est demonstration of any solution is in the success of
its application. Easily will that general meet the
question of a discontented host, " wherefore have we
been brought into this danger?" who can but delay
his reply, till on the yielded battle-field he may point

■fht*

382

ON TBMPTATION.

at the enemy's spoil, and merely say, " to conquer.
This it was that, above all other things, Jesus had m
view vhen He submitted to temptation, to encourage
us by showing how easy this victory is; nor will it be
difficult, by running over the chiefest circumstances to
be noted in our gospel, to discover how He brought
us to this knowledge.

And fii-st we see, how to each temptation he op-
posed a fitting resistance, which, as by a sudden blow,
at once disconcerted and baffled His cunning enemy.
For when He was asked to change stones into bread,
He turned His thoughts to the contemplation of better
things than such as satisfy the body. He compared
things spiritual, to things temporal; weighed the pure
delight of the former, against the emptiness and disap-
pointments of the latter. He thought of the far
greater importance of nourishing the soul m virtue,
and strengthening it unto perfection, and summed up
the momentous conclusion of His thoughts in that ex-
pressive saying, that not on bread alone, not on the
meat that perisheth, doth man live, but upon the
word of his God, its sweet hopes and its unfading
promises. And such, too, should be our preparation
for the daily assaults of worldly solicitude, and the
cravings of insatiable humanity; to make the will of
our Father our daily food, to prefer like the Jewish
crowd many days of Jesus' company in a desert, fast-
ing, to the care of the body, and so disentangle our
hearts from the bondage of the flesh, till our converaa-
tion is all in Heaven. And thus shall we be well pre-
pared for every assault which our unruly app'itites or
vidn desires may attempt

irfihiiit

ON TEMPTATION.

283

o conquer."
Fesus had ia

enconrage
or will it be
imatances to
He brought

ition he op-
udden blow,
ning enemy.
} into bread,
ion of better
le compared
ded the pure
83 and diaap-
; of the far
)ul in virtue,

1 summed up
ts in that ex-
e, not on the
ut upon the

its unfailing
r preparation
iide, and the
ce • the will of
e the Jewish
a desert, fast-
sentangle our
our conversa-
e be well pre-
y app'ititea or

We cannot, indeed, doubt but that so simple an
enunciation as our Saviour on each occasion employed
was in this manner but the expression of many and
complicated feelings. For, when the arch-deceiv*
bore Him up into the lofty mountain and showed Him
all the kingdoms of earth, with all their bravery and
ali their strength, little did he consider how diflferent
from what he desired was the look to Him he tempt-
ed. The one i)ointed out the rich and varied prospect,
fair as the valley of Jordan before the Lord over-
threw Sodoir . V d Gomom.h, or as Egypt to tliem that
came down from Emath : while the other was busy
counting the venomous serpents that trailed among its
flowers, and the crested aspics that coiled on every
path. The tempter bid Him mark the sumptuous
palaces of princes, and hearken to the din of wassail
that sounded from them ; and He saw through their
•walk into the unwholesome banquet-room, and studied
the wasteful riot which, li!;e the drunkard, of Ephraim,
treads under foot a crown of glory (Is. xxxviii. 3), and
the dull, brutalized countenances of the revellers, and
the gloomy recklessness of the spendthrift host, with
the lamb from the poor man's bosom upon his table,
and the unpitied L :rrus at his door. The deceiver
would show Him His future armies squadroned for
victory under their flaunting bannei-s, and in glittering
array. But on every hand He sees a stain of innocent
blood, and on every shoulder a load of spoil that crieth
to Heaven for vengeance on behalf of the widow and
orphan. Then would he point out the crowded cities
throbbing with life through every avenue as men
paced to and fro, all busy, and intent on their various

pna^tai

284

ON TEMPTATION.

piirsuUs. But the oiiun- not only sees but knows them
nil : the one is the ])iowling thief that goes ftbout to
snatch bis prey, and the other the assassin that is
tracking liis victim ; this is the adulterer that is watch-
ing his hour to enter, that, the fiend's own ally, the se-
ducer of innocence. In fine, he will, perhaps, direct our
blessed Saviour's eye to this Imperial City, and amidst
the gorgeous piles of magnificent edifices, open to Ilira
one where the crowned despot sits upon the world's
throne, dooming its inhabitan .3 as his slaves, and dictat-
ing laws to prostrate princes. " This," he tells Him,
"shall be your place, these shall be your honore, — all
tl+c world can give." But He whom he addresses
hears him not; His eye hath pierced through the
double folds of the purple robe, and searched a heart
wherein every black passion seethes and foams in fear-
ful agitation ; He hath raised the wi-eath from his brow,
and found that its bay-leaves cut more deeply, and
strain more cruelly than shall His own thorns on Cal-
vary. And, in all thl "irhat temptation could there
be, save to disgust aud abhorrence, rather than to
jealousy or ambition ? And thus shall we, too, con-
quer, if, not content with the surface and outside show
of things that tempt us, we endeavor to penetrate
within. For then shall we discover them to be hollow
and naught, and hold them for despicable rather than
to be desired. And in this manner, too, we shall be
brought justly to estimate the base condition whereon
they are to be purchased : that of falling down and
worshipping the monster who tempts us, in the hideous
form of that vice or passion which he solicits us to
gratify. And, in conclusion, we shall leai*n how God

ON TEMPTATION.

985

knows them
88 ftbout to
810 that is
I at is watch-
ally, the se-
ts, direct our
, and amidst
pen to Ilim
the world's
s, and dictat-
e tells Him,
honore, — all
le addresses
hrough the
hed a heart
oams in fear-
)m his brow,
deeply, and
3rns on Cal-
could there
hsr than to
we, too, con*
mtside show
bo penetrate
to be hollow
rather than
we shall be
ion whereon
f down and
I the hideous
olicits us to
rn how God

alone is great, and how He alone is worthy to b«
adored and served as our true and loving Master.

But why, my brethren, did our Redeemer choose to
be tempted in a desert ? Doubtless, that He might
better show how, even in the solitude of our thoughts,
wo should resist and repel the suggestions of evil.
When the tempter's offers were made, there was no
ear to witness them. Had He yielded and obtained
tHt world's mastery— I suppose an impossibility for
the better illustration of the matter— none would have
knovn but that He had honorably acquired it ; He
would, in fact, have gained it as well as did many who
held it. But even in that loneliness. He wished to
show tha> the brightness of God shone no less than in
His temple ; aud we must resist to the last, from re-
gard not to man or his opinions, but to God and His
judgments. Nor even thus much are you then alone.
Never are we so completely made a spectacle worthy
of angels as when we wrestle with temptation. Where-
fore, think you, is it recorded, that when tie devil
departed from cur blessed Saviour, angels came and
ministered unto Him ? Is it not that they had been
interested spectators of the previous contest ; admiring
the beautiful skill wherewith each assault was met
and baffled— applauding, by silent smiles the glorious
victory, and drawing nearer and nearer at each down-
fall of the foe, with the food of Heaven which they
bore ? And when we in our turn are placed, as in an
amphitheatre, before them, like gladiators to contend
for an inccrruptible crown, for a seat amidst their
thrones, shall we not feel a new courage in this very
thought ? Shall we not see in every countenance of

^M'kka

286

ON TRMPTATION.

that glorious oflseinMnge a new incentive tc be brave,
that it may smile upon us ; shall not each right hand
appear stretched out to us, waving a cbapk't prepared
to crown us ; shall not every voice serve to applaud at
every successful blow that we inflict, not to sigh in
sorrow at every slip of our foot, every unsteadiness of
our hand 3 And thus surrounded, thus supported,
thus cheered on, by those who witness our contest and
pray for our succcvjs, can any further encouragement
"be held out!

Yes, my brethren, one more there is, that is greater
than the rest. It w^as on a mountain that our Saviour
was tempted, and it must bo to His mountain that we
must fly for refuge if we wish to be safe. To Calvary
with your passions if ever they molest you ; to Gol-
gotha lead the false deceiver who wishes to entrap
you ! Thence from the foot of the cross, clasping itt
sacred stem, as Joab did the b^orns of the altar; tell
him to descant to you on the value of earthly things,
and on the beauty of a prospect, over Haceldama and
Olivet, scenes of treachery and of anguish, over a faith*
less crowd below, and an angry, darkened heavea
above. There tell him to declaim upon the glories of
earth's kingdoms, when Heaven's King is crowned
with thorns; tell him to expatiate on the gratifications
of sinful pleasures, while the Lamb of God is bleeding
at every pore to expiate its gtlilt ; allow him to tempt
you with all that the world can give, at its owa hard
price, when Heaven and its eternal treasures may be
obtained free costl There take your stand; there
keep your hold ; one look into the' mild countenance
of Him who hangs upon that tree, better to you than

m ilfc ■■

tc be brave,
1 light Imnd
>lat prepared
u applaud at
t to sigh in
Hteadinem of
s supported,
r contest and
icourageinent

bat is greater
; our Saviour
itain that we
To Calvaiy
you; to Gol-
les to entrap
9, clasping its
le altar; tell
irthly things,
iceldama and
I, over a faith-
ened heaven
the glories of
^ is crowned
gratifications
>d is bleeding
him to tempt
its owa hard
gurea may be
stand ; there
i countenance
: to you than

.•w^

ON TEMPTATIOir.

287

that of Mnmbre, beneath which angels reposed, will
animate you to IJh^ conflict ; one word from His lij)*
will put your fears to everlastingshnmo ; and one drop
of His sacred blood will wipe away the sweat, and
heal all the wounda, of your unequal conflict. Yes, it
by ever hoping in Ilim, ever loving Him, and ever
turning, in the hour of danger, to the contemplation of
Him crucified, to stiengthen, to save, and to bless you,
that you will overcome every temptation, and break
through every snare.

Be then, my brethren, as valiant soldiere of Christ,
ever armed and ever ready, remembering that your
enemy, like a roaring lion, ever goeth about seeking
■whom he may devour. Rush not into the danger, but
still fear it not. Are you yet young in virtue, engaged
in slippery warfare with passions untamed, and rebel-
lious even after defeat ? The field of war is your prop-
er element. Your armor of proof must never be un-
buckled, the shield of faith must ever hang over your
head. Be faithful to the end, and ye shall have the
crown of life. But do any of you complain that you
have fought your good fight, and have not proved
braggarts, but have vanquislied in the name of your
God, the Lord of Hosts, yet that still a sting of the
flesh is left you, an angel of Satan whobuflfeteth youl
The grace of God still suflBceth for your complete vi&
tory. These are trials no longer of your fidelity, but
steps towards your perfection ; opportunities for new
merit, and for gaining brighter rewards. For, when
the lord of the vineyard wishes to shake from its
flowers a sweeter odor, or to display its colore in a
brighter splendor, he must needs command a ruder

tnami

288

ON TEMPTATION.

hveete to ruffle it and disturb it« repose. WheneTtr
he in tempted, the Christian is treading in the foot-
steps of hia Lord, and whoso with Ilim conquer, with
Him and by Him shall be crowned.

I i

■I'lHim ■■ill II I

Whenever

in the foot-

jonqucr, with

SERMON XIV.
tlic itnQdani ol Cbriit.

luiAS, U. 9, 1.

" In tli« but dkyi, Ui« moantatn of tb« houM of th« Ixnd alukll b*
pnpwad OB Um top of nxmntklni, tad It ihall b« cullad abort the
hllU, and all aatlona ahall flow unto It. And many people ahall go and
Mjr : Cknne, let oa go op to the mountain of the Lord."

From the circumstances under which our blessed
Bedeemer first manifested Himself in the flesh, it is no
wonder, ray brethren, that His advent should have
been so little noticed by the people whom He came
to save. When the emperor's edict went forth, enjoin<
ing a general enrolment, and commanding that for this
object every family should repair to its ancestral city,
we oan easily conceive the universal movement which
it would produce, and the various interests which it
would awaken ; and these alone would sufficiently
occupy the minds of men to leave them neither in-
clination nor leisure to observe this momentous
arrival.

For it was natural that each one should be anxious
to trace his origin to the most noble stock ; and, if he
could establish such a claim, to display an appearance
suited to his asserted rank. It is, however, easy to
imagine bow proud and happy, beyond all, they must
have felt, who, desct ided from the royal lineage of

t90

THE KIKODOM OF CHlffllT.

David, had now an opportunity of BupportiiK their
prtiteiiwonii in th« fac« of th« \f\w\« nation, and ro-
c«iving an official and authontative confirmation of
their claima. Doulitieiw no sacriflco would b« ipared
which could enable th^m to support their wwumi'd
diutinctton ; any «>xp<!n»ie would be cheerfully incurred
to travel with a train, and apiKvn- with a Bplendor be-
coming the menibei-fl of a royal houw?— of i» house
now expecting the restoration of ita rights, in its head
— the coming MeMsiah.

It is amidst all this parade and all this pride that a
little group is seen to advance slowly towards Bethle-
hem, the royal city, from the mean and obscure vil-
lage of Nazareth. A poor artizan guides the wearied
steps of the humble beast of burden, whereon is borne
a tender lady, apparently unfit, from her condition, for
so long and toilsome a journey. To their straitened
circumstances in life, obedience to the imperial edict
is a serious inconvenience; to their poverty, their
royal lineage is rather a reproach and a burden than
an honor. Humble, meek, and unpretending, they are
passed on the road by the crowds, who hasten forward,
with a feeling of contempt and almost of shame, that
' their noble blood should be disgraced by so igno-
ble an alliance. They creep, where others run; and
so, when they arrive at their journey's end, no friendly
greeting cheers them, no claim of kindred salutes
them. Every place of lodging has been occupied,
until, to that tender maid and mother, no shelter i»
left but a stable, and no cradle but its manger.

And yet, my brethren, not even the Ark of the
Covenant, when it went forth to victory over the ene-

mmtltmmtltmMmm

pportiifjf their
rjftti«)n, Rn<l ii»-
>onflrniation of
tuld be ipftiwl

thoir nsHunu'd
irfally incurrwd

a Hpleiulor he-
w — t)f h house
;htii, in its hood

lis pride that ft
owardfl Bethle-
id obscure vil«
Jes the wearied
hereon is borne
er condition, for
their straitened
B imperial edict

poverty, their
a burden than
ending, they are
hasten forward,

of shame, that
led by so igno-
)ther8 run; and
1 end, no friendly
kindred salutes

been occupied,
er, no shelter is

manger.

the Ark of the
iry over the ene-

Tffii itroonoii OF onniMT.

mi«s of G(m1, e(icorti>d by squadrons of Levitos, and
gru«t(>d by the shouts of tlio whole |>eoplfl — not even
it, movml forward with half that intertist to Heaven,
or half that promise to ««nrth, with which this humble
Virgin, bearing within her, in silen<!e and neglect, the
richest work which Almighty God had yet created.
More than the Old Ark — true Ark of the Covenant-
she bears its law(^iver, not its sculptured * ^ws. Upon
this little household angels attend with care, mor«
than for the ordinary just, lest they should dash their
foot Against a stone. For in it are centred all the
counsels of Heaven, since the creation of man ; on its
safety depends the fulfilment oi" prophecy, the consum-
mation of the law, and the redemption of the woHd.
How true it is, my brethren, that the kingdom of
Heaven came " without observation !" (Luke, xvii. 20.)
And yet, though existing from that day to this, how
often it is overlooked with negligence far more unpar-
donable than was that of the Jewish peo|)le I For ita
characteristics have now been clearly defined, and ren-
dered most conspicuous. Hence, while the Church,
during the seven days before Christmas, directs part
of her offices* to proclaim the titles and honors attrib-
uted by the ancient prophets to the Son of God, she
hardly passes over one day, without repeating this
noblest prerogative of being King over all the Faith-
ful. For there can be none more glorious to Himself
nor more honorable to her, than this universal domin-
ion by His religion, which His Father bestowed upoa
Him at His own special request, and of which she

• Antlphou O, «t the Magn^fieai.

mtttmm

292

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

forms at once the object and the depositor. It «,
therefore, to this high and most '^^V^'''^^^r'''£,
tive enjoyed upon earth by the new-born Kmg, that
I wishUtnrn 'your attention; and to trace rapidly
to your view the' prophecies which describe it, rfhd
their subsequent fulfilment will be the object of a few

'* The 'faiure kingdom of the Messias was the very
soul of Jewish prophecy. The humble character o
His birth and life, His labors. His ««f "«f ;"f^^^
death, were inaeed contemplated and described by the
venerable messengers of God. But it is only in an
occasional and rapid sketch that these painful s enes
are represented. Each comes like a gloomy cloud,
overcasting the mind of the seer, on which are d -
cidedly, bSt evanescently, traced the outlines of his
Redeemer's life and death ; but which always breaks
into a flood of light and glory, like that which canopied
the apostles on Thabor, when He discoursed with
Moses and Elias. (Luc. ix. 31.) ..vfori in

If to David, His great ancestor, He is exhibited m
excess of agony, with His hands and feet pierced. His
garments divided among His unrelenting and insult,
ing persecutoi-s, and crying for help to God, who a^
peared to have abandoned Him, it is only that he
^ay be more gladdened by the conclusion of the same
prophecy ; that in consequence of these Buffe""g« f^
the ends of the earth shall remember and shall be
converted to the Lord, and all the kindreds of the
Gentiles shall adore in His sight. For the hngdom
is the Lw^d\ and he shall have dominion over the
nations." (Ps. xxii. 28, 29.) Hence, no sooner is this

ifc ■« ■ i\ttL < i»Hm'i^t tik mt i ^* - ' '

» $0 mK #*)i i <fc » iiinw iii i i

THE KINQDOU OF OHRIBT.

293

»itor. It is,
ant preroga-
1 King, that
i-noe rapidly
;ribe it, adid
ject of a few

vas the very
character of
ings, and His
jribed by the
,8 only in an
painful scenes
rloomy cloud,
rhich are de-
atlineo of his
always breaks
hich canopied
scoursed with

s exhibited in
at pierced, His
Dg and insult*
t God, who ap-

only that he
on of the same

sufferings " all
V and shall be
Lindreds of the
or the hivgdom
linion over the
10 sooner is this

theme touched in nny of the inspired writings, than
the prophetic vision glows in ail its splendor, the most
brilliant imagery is employed to detail its promises,
and the most animated phraseology to express its
hopes. As the coui-se of ages flowed on towards its
completion, new tmits were added which, without
effacing the preceding, more strikingly defined their
object ; that was more minutely described which be-
fore had been only generally expressed, and the future
kingdom of the Son of David is distinctly foreshown
in its plan and its constitution, and characteiized by
marks which might lead the ages of its fulfilment to
recognize, to acknowledge, and to obey it.

When David saw himself seated on the throne of
Israel, the master of a wider extent of country than
his nation had ever hoped to possess, surrounded by
wealth such as no contemporary monarch had amassed,
only one more thought on earth wag capable of caus-
ing him pain or uneasiness. Saul had, like himself,
been chosen and anointed monarch of God's people,
and yet his race had been rejected from the succession.
Might not the same lot await his progeny I It was to
allay this anxiety in His faithful servant that God
sent the prophet Nathan. (2 Kings, vii. 16.) He
passed His solemn word that after Him a descendant
should rise, the duration of whose reign, and the ex-
tent of whose dominion, should far surpass his most
visionary hopes. " I will set," He exclaims, " his Land
in the sea, and his right hand in the rivers . . . and I
will make him my firat-born, high above the kings of
the earth. I will keep my mercy for him for ever and
my covenant faithful to him. And I will make his

294

TME KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

seed to endure for evermore, and his throne as the
days of heaven." (Ps. Ixxxviii. 26-30.) It is after
receiving this divine communication that we may sup-
pose the Royal Prophet to have been elevated in spirit
to the contemplation of this glorious period, when he
heard this future descendant of his, already existing in
a superior state, exclaim, "The Lord hath said to me:
Thou art my son, this day have I begotten thee : ask
of me, and I will give thee the Gentiles for thy inheii-
tance, and the bounds of the earth for thy possession"
(Ps. ii. 8) ; or, when anticipating the enrapturing vision
of Stephen, he saw the heavens open and his Lord, yet
his son, invited to sit at the right hand of God until
all His enemies had been bowed before his footstool.

Such, my brethren, was the glorious prospect which
opened itself to tlis early prophet; a kingdom to be
established by his great descendant, which should hold
undivided dominion over the most distant parts of the
earth, unbounded and unchecked by any of those
political or natural limits, which distinguish the mon-
archies of the earth, or the species of the human race,
and permanent as the laws that regulate the heavens.
If so splendid a prospect was unfolded to allay the
domestic anxieties of one prince, we may easily iraag-
im what additional clearness and beauty it received
when used as the instrument of consolation to a whole
suffering people. If it was exhibited with such sol-
emr. asseverations when all things augured long pros-
perity to the house of David, how much stronger must
have been necessary wheu its utter downfall and ex-
tinction appeared to be consummated. In fact no
sooner did idolatry and immorality bring on the final

|i j> . M !> i » «i «i . . K»Ai iii m) t Lii i<l>[ii 1 1 vtAU M mt m mt •tmMum O i ' miUima

TUK KINGDOM OF C1IKI8T.

205

;hrone as the
) It ia after

we may sup*
rated in spirit
I'iod, when he
dy existing in
h said to me :
ten thee : ask
•or thy inhei-i-
ly possession"
pturing vision

his Lord, yet

of God until
his footstool,
rospect which
dngdom to be
sh should hold
at parts of the

any of those
^uish the mon>
le human race,
3 the heavens.
3d to allay the
ly easily iraag-
ity it received
ion to a whole
with such sol-
ired long pros-
L stronger must
iwnfall and ex-
I. In fact no
Dg on the final

dissolution of the Je^vish monan'chy and religion, than
the prophecies of this new kingdom became more
marked, and appeared with ten-fold lustre amidst the
surrounding gloom.

When Jeremias sat upon the ruins of Jerusalem, and
wept over the mingled ashes of its palace and its temple,
he still considered them only as the funeral pile of a de-
generate dynasty and a corrupted worship, fiom which,
after a few yeai-s, should arise, like the phoenix, a
faithful monarch to restore and perpetuate the king-
dom and the priesthood. " Behold, the days come," ho
exclaimed, by command of God, " and I will raise up to
David a just branch: and a king shall reign and be
wise : and this is the name that they ehftU call him :
The Lord our just one," (xxiii. 5, 6.) Even though
sent to announce that if Jechonias, the last king of
Juda, were a signet on God's right hand, yet He would
pluck him thence (Jer. xxii. 24), and that there should
not be a niau of his seed to sit on the throne of
David" (30) ; yet he is ordered to proclaim in the
name of the same God : " Thus, saith the Lord : If my
covenant with the day can be made void and my cov-
enant with the night, that there should not be day
and night in their season : then may, also, my covenant
with David, my servant, be made void : that he should
not have a son to reign upon his throne, and with the
Levites and priests my ministers." (xxxiii. 21.)

But at this period the prophecies regarding this
future kingdom undergo a striking modification, or
rather receive an additional feature of the greatest
importance. The reign of the Messias now becomes
identified with the formation and propagation of a

THE KINGDOM OF OHRIW.

new religion, and all those characteristics of nnity, of
ffovernraent, of univei-sality of dominion, and of perpe-
tuity of duration, which, in the earlier prophecy dis-
tinguished the reign of the descendant of David, are
transferred to that religious system, which it is shown
to have denoted. " And it shall come to pass in that
day," says Zacharias, " that living waters shall go out
from Jerusalem" to the four quarters of the globe, ' and
the Lord (God) shall he Ung over all the <?«»f •' *«
that day there shall he one Lord, and hU name shall be

cnw And aU they that shall he left of all nations

shall go up to adore the King, the Lo^'d of Hosts, and
to keep the feast of tabernacles. (Zachar. xiv. 8, 9,
16 ) Here then, is the obedience of all nations to this
future king, manifestly identified with their all wor-
shipping the same God and practising the same re-
ligion. . .1 , .1 •
But it is in the evangelical prophet Isaias that this
connection is most strongly marked: "There shall
come forth," he exclaims, "a rod out of the root ot
Jesse, and a flower shall arise out of his root; ....
therefore the earth is filled with the knowledge of the
Lord, as the covering watei-s of the sea. In that day
shall be the root of Jesse, who standeth for an ensign
to the people, him the Gentiles shall beseech. And
he shall set up a standard to the nations, and shall
assemble the fugitives of Israel." (xi.) Hence, also,
it appears that this new institution has not only to
extend to the furthest bounds of the earth, but, m
every part where it shall reach it, has to be a con-
Bpicuous rallying.point to all. It is compared by one
prophet to the cedar which, fi«t planted as a tender

p ■#!> Ill j m . i* h »wi»><ftg w *>* ." » ii ' *>a » w i» i' <i ii: e MH!iW BiP»

l(ii.w.i)iWIII|W|ilN'l'*»MW>W* I "^W

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

SGT

of nnity, of
,nd of perpe-
ropbecy, dis-
f David, are
1 it 18 shown
pass iu that
shall go out
J globe, " and
lie earth: in
^ame shall be
yf all nations
f Hosts;' and
har. xiv. 8, 9,
lations to this
their all wor-
the same re-

laias that this
"There shall
f the root of
I root; ....
wledge of the

In that day

for an ensign

eseech. And

one, and shall

Hence, also,
IS not only to
earth, but, ia
to be a con-
npared by one
ed as a tender

sapling on a mountain high and eminent, on the high
mountains of Israel, shoots foi-th its branches, and
bears fruit, and becomes a great cedar, so that all
birds shall dwell under it, and every fowl shall make
its nest under the shadow of the branches thereof.
(Ezec. xvii. 22, 23.) It is compared in the words of
my text, and in the prophet Micheas, to the mountain
of the Lord's house, elevated upon the highest pinna-
cles of mountains, and exalted above all other hills,
towards which all nations shall flow, to learn the ways
of God, and how to walk in His paths.

The mysterious veil is now at length thrown off:
no longer disguised under the figures of the earthly
monarchy, though still invested with similar qualities,
this conspicuous and magnificent institution is depicted
in the most alluring colore, and guarded with the most
splendid promises : within its pale, harmony, security,
and abundance of peace shall reside ; its interests shall
be watched over and nursed by kings and by princes ;
and, constantly increasing in numbers, — " because the
Lord will lift up His hand to the Gentiles, and will
set up His standard to tha people,"— it shall, day after
day, enlarge the cords of its tabernacle, and push
further back the landmarks of its inheritance, without
any more fear that the mercy of God will depart from
it, and the covenant of His peace be moved, than that
His oath to Noe shall be made void, and the watei-s
of the deluge be brought back upon the earth. (Is.
r\ jrlix., liv.) Only one point now remains to com-
piev i these prophecies, that the period when their ful-
filment was to commence should be clearly pointed
out. This is done by Dnniel, who closes the prophetic

gp^-

208

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

annala upon the Bubject, adding, at the same time,
Hiich characteristic marks as should render his predic-
tions the epilogue and abridgment of the preceding.
He tells us, therefore, that when the fourth great
empire shall be falling into decay, that God shall
come like a stone cut without hands ; and, filling up
the space occupied by the foregoing monarchies, swell
gradually into a mountain that shall fill the whole
earth. " The God of Heaven shall set up a kingdom
that shall never be destroyed; and His kingdom
shall not be delivered up to another people; and
itself shall stand forever." (Dan. ii. 44.) "All
people," he says, "tribes, and tongues shall serve
Him : His power is an everlasting power that shall
not be taken away, and His kingdom that shall not
be destroyed." (vii. 14.) . a

After having thus cureorily reviewed the history of
prophecy upon this interesting point, it will not, I
think, my brethren, be difficult to collect from its
scattered elements a complete and simple idea of the
plan and characteristics of this kingdom of thp Mes-
sias. It was to consist, manifestly, of a religious sys-
tem widely spread over the whole earth, the most
extreme points of which must, however, be con-
nected and related by such principles of unity and
subordination, as can entitle the whole to be con-
fiidered as forming one only body or empire. This
system which has to endure, according to the words
of Scripture, " until the sun and moon be taken away,"
will, at every moment of its existence, be eminently
conspicuous, and distinguished by its constant tenden-
oy to expand.

mU ii j wW i'M

irfMl.

i jjl i . Ill mim I TiT l > l |' |i l ll l|l|l >lill 1 i i tffll'lTC llll

I ' •'" ^m

THE xiNoooM OF cnnisT.

200

same time,
r hia predic-
3 preceding,
ourth great
b God shall
id, filling up
rchies, swell
[1 the whole
p a kingdom
[is kingdom
people; and
44.) " All
shall serve
)r that shall
tat bhall not

he history of
t will not, I
lect from its
e idea of the
I of thfi Mes-
religious sys-
th, the most
ver, be con-
of unity and
e to be con-
jmpire. This
to the words
taken away,"
be eminently
istant tenden-

If, therefore, there is any truth in the Divine prom-
ises, and if the spirit of prophecy be not a spirit of
falsehood and deceit, we must feel convinced that in
this instance they have been fulflUbd to the letter ;
so that in every age there must have existed a body
satisfying these conditions, and a body not only hav-
ing a clear, defined, and sensible existence, that otheis
may be able to join it, but rendered eminent and dis-
tinguished, so as to attract the eye, and win the at-
tention, of those who were not united to its standard.
And such, my brethren, has really been the case. No
sooner did the apostles receive the Divine commission
to teach all nations^ and to be the witnesses of Christ's
doctrine " even to the uttermost parts of the earth"
(Acts, i. 8), than they prepared to lay the foundation
of this vasl structure. Their jealousy of receiving the
Gentiles into their communion was soon removed by
a declaration from Heaven (Acts, x.) ; and no other
barrier remained to check their zeal. To men, only
twelve in number, and less confident of the Divine
support, the project might have appeared chimerical,
of founding a religious community, whereof the whole
Roman empire was only to form a part. They would
have preferred to concentrate their power and abili-
ties upon one point, and trust to time and opportunity
to spread gradually ou every side. But, supported by
the promises of God, they feared not to weaken their
strength by separation; they dispersed immediately
in opposite directions, and Spain and India, Scythia
and Africa, saw rising at the same moment the distant,
but harmonising parts of the vast system. The same
doctrines, the same government, the same constitution,

WttBUBtSBSSS^'^

800

THX KINUDOM OF OIIRIST.

the same form of worship, linked together into a ^ole
the most distinct poiiita ; nor was it ever imagined
that the viciuaitudes of States, or the formation of new
political boundaries, would ever be authorized, or able
to break the bonds which united them into a commoo

empire.

It waa not long before the formation of this stupen-
dous system attracted the notice of the whole known
world. It soon became a city built, npon a mountain
which could not be concealed; it soon became a
beacon towards which all directed their course who
valued the doctrine of salvation ; and even the wrath
of those who could not bear its light, only rendered it
more marked and conspicuous. The flame of persecu-
tion only added splendor to its lustre ; the blood of
its martyred followers fell like a fruitful seed upon
the earth, and the decree for its extermiuation went
forth as a warrant for its propagation. In the midst
of all their sufferings, the most distant churches cou-
Boled one another, and corresponded with all the
sympathy of members of the same body. The
Sovereign Pontiflfe, in the concealments of the cata-
combs, received the reports of distant provinces, regu-
lated their affairs, or convened synods for moi-e
weighty consultations. Clement thus ordered the
disturbed Church of Corinth by his letters; Victor
called to account the practice and discipline of the
Asiatic churches, founded by St. John ; Stephen pro-
nounced sentence upon the disputes of the African

bishops.

Thns was this new kingdom, within a few years,
extended over the whole world, still preserving that

Mitftii ■■■■iwti*^-

into a whole
sr imagined
ition of nevr
ized, or able

a commoa

this stiipen-
rhole known

1 a mountain
n became a
• coarae who
jn the wrath
f rendered it
le of pereecu-
the blood of
il seed upoa
liuation went
In the midst
3h arches con*
with all the
body. The

of the cata-
ovinces, regu-
ids for more

ordered the
jtters; Victor
;ipline of the

Stephen pro-
if the African

a few years,
reserving that

TUX KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

801

anity of plan and of government, which is so essen*
tial to constitute one kingdom ; every day becoming
more conspiouons, till, at length, its splendor overcame
the obstinacy of the Koman emperora, and it planted
the badge of it« Divine Founder upon the diadem of
the world.

Now approached the trying period, when it was to
be seen whether this vast system, like all human in-
stitutions, contained in it the principles of dissolution,
and whether, like the overgrown empires of the earth,
it would crumble into pieces by its own weight. But
it was soon discovered that, although the Roman do-
minion, with which it was more than commensurate,
could become the prey of anarchy, or devastation, this
had a principle of vitality, proper to itself, which
made it independent of earthly support. Whatever
revolutions agitated the globe, the Church of God
alone remained unmoved : and as all the changes
which take place in the vast system of creation occur
within the being and immensity of her Founder, with-
out communicating to Him the slightest variation, so
numerous and portentous vicissitudes daily occurred
within her precincts without modifying her govern-
ment, her doctrines, or her rites.

In vain did the north open its flood-gates of deso-
lation and pour its deluge of barbarians over the rich
provinces of the south. No sooner did the torrent
stagnate than it received the care of this universal
benefactor; the scene of its former devastation, and
the wilderness which it had created, soon began, in
fulfilment of prophecy, "to rejoice and flourish like
the lily, to bad forth and blossom, and rejoice with

I n i . i » w ni» i n < h >i

mmiiutammiiams--

ao9

THK KIWODOM Of fllRMT.

joy and praiue." (U. xxxv. 1.) Often, even in tlio
career of victory, th«ir arm was arrested by its uieek
interposition ; the Hword of the conqueror wan charm-
ed into itfl sheath by the mild doctrines of Christian-
ity, and the proud head of the despot hung abashed
before the rebuke of its miniHtei's. But they were
not content with subduing the obstinate hearts of their
invaders: they pushed their spiritual conquests into
the territories of their enemies.

For never did the kingdom of Christ receive such
trianiphaut increase as during those ages, commonly
denoted the dark times of ignorance and superstition.
In the fifth age, Bt. Paliadius and St Patrick, both
commissioned by Pope Celestine, preached the faith :
the former to the Scots, the second to the Irish. In
the sixth, St. Augnatin opened his mission among our
Anglo-Saxon ancestor, under the auspices of the holy
Pontiff St. Gregory. The blowing century saw the
Netherlands added to the Church, through the minis-
try of St. Willi brord, sent by Pope Sergius. During
the eighth, St. Boniface, under the direction of the
second Gregory, gained the title of the Apostle of
Germany. In the ninth, Sweden ; in the tenth, Den-
nmrk, was illumined by the light of the Gospel ; the
Hungarians, the Livonians, parts of Tartary and Lith-
uania were the conquests of the following centuries ;
and, when the field for new conversions seemed thus
exhausted, new worlds in the eaat and west were
thrown open, in order that the prerogative of the
Church, to be ever extending, might not want space
whereon to be exerted.

Nor, my brethran, was this ever-expanding kingdom

mmmm

THK KtNODOM Of CIIKIIIT.

ao8

even in thn
by its meek
or wftH charrn«
of ChriHtian-
lung ahttslu'd
ut they were
hearts of their
ouquests into

receive such
568, commonly
I Bupei-stition.

Patrick, both
led the faith :
the Irish. la
on among our
es of the holy
itury saw the
jgh the rainis-
•giu8. During
rection of the
ie Apostle of
le tenth. Den-
e Gospel; the
tary and Lith*
ing centuries;
s seetred thus
nd west were
jgative of the
3t want space

iding kingdom

of the Tiord lout in ol«cnrity or nunk into insignifl'
came during this iH!rio<l of darknenH and confusion.
It became, on the contrary, more and more conNpit*.
uuUH and distinguished. Conspicuous, from the aU
moat exclusive learning of its rulers and dignitaries,
and from their successful care to preserve that spark
of literature and science from the ashes of antiquity,
which could alone have lighted up the way to modern
improvement ; conspicuous, by its care to smoothen
the rudeness of the iiiues, to "ioften tiiti asperity of
manners, to improve the condivion of the poor, and
plant the basis of all those wi»e institutions which we
now cherish and admire ; conspicuous, Htill more, in
the holiness and beauty of character of so many who
devoted themselves to its service ; conspicuous, above
all, by being the common link between distant or dis*
cordant nations, the common object of awe to all the
evil, and of consolation o all the good, the common
country to which all belonged, the common altar
I'ouud which all would rally. Honored and protected,
it never altered ita constitution nor Vjroke its succes-
sion ; its voice silenced every murmur that rose todis*
turb its harmony, ond its sentence paralyzed every
movement made to break its unity. Of the hundred
sects which rose before the fifteenth century, only one
(the Vaudois), and that an obscure and lingering rem*
nant, yet survives, in Europe^ the blight of its anathema.
My l^rethren, at this epoch let us take our stand.
We have seen what sort of a system was required, by
the ancient prophecies, to fill the character of God's
kingdom upon earth ; and you ore assured that such
a one must have existed, and must exist for ever, if

■

•mm

804

rnr. RiNnnnu or oHiturr.

thfv wer« true. What alone coul«l hoa^t thwwi quail-
ties' when th« ftjK«tl.'s eMt*hlii.hfa the Church, no on«
o«n douht. For flftet- n centurioi after that pocu I
flnJ only one rt-ligioua nynWm univeitally di(T- "d,
which c.uhl he unid to wear the featurr* v,.,trlbut«d to
this «piritunl empire; one alone conapicuoui and dm-
tinguished, for, till then, it had not t^ven a rival ; one
community accused of bearing too much the form of
ftu organised kingdom; one over spreading the light
of religion, and alone diffusing Christianity to the be-
nighted regions of the earth ; one alone, in short, from
which its more recent aopnratista boait that they
receive their niiswion and ordination, which would be
void and useU-sa if it waa not, at least till then, the
true and only inheriUnce of these prophecies and the
continuation of their fulfilment, I flud, too, that ret-
rograding from the period mentioned, it is connected
from age to «ge by the constant auccessiou of pastors
and supreme rulere, by a aeries of councils, canons, and
constitutions, framed for its government, by a train of
writers for its deftjnce or instruction, by all those links,
in fine, which can pive hUtorical identity to a moral
and continued Imx./. U\ tJ.en, the promises of God
were fulfilled. It cm '^ .> i this boi':' ulone; and till
that century when the rise of rival claims to be the
true Church of God involved the case in controversy,
it must be acknowledged that no doubt could possibly
exist that the great, the magnificent kingdom of the
Messias was wholly identified with the only religious
system -which was widely disaeminated, wa» eminently
conspicuous, or which spread on every side the doc-
trines of Christianity.

% 1*..-.,,.,,-^, .,»«*>..

t tbwki quiill-
mrch. no onu
that ptMi'u I
ally diff".*'d,

!,<,tributod to
aoui and dU*
ji ft rivnl ; one
» the form of
[ling ih« light
lity to the be-
in sliort, fi'om
Mt thftt they
bich would be

till then, the
hecies nnd the
, too, that ret*
t is connected
lioa of pnatort
its, canons, and
t, by a train of
all those links,
tity to a moral
omises of God
ulone; and till
aims to be the
in controversy,
. could potv.ibly
:ingdom of the
3 onl> religious
, was eminently
f side the doo*

THE KuroooM or oiiKorr.

«05

It he trup, my br'tthrfn, that w« have often hpnrJ
and rond of foul covrupti«)ns in prnctici*, which h«d
crept into the Church, of MJiofkinff iramorttllti*^ whirh
di«grftc«'d its ministers, of grcms ptMverNions of Uotl's
word in its doctrim , during thia period. But U|H)n
this point we pay ank one obvious question. Were
these such ns to obliterate fr«)m tliis Chinch the chtp»
acteristics of being the kingdom of God founded by
the npostlos? If you answer in the ttfflrmative, then [
iiflk what became of Ilin pronjines that His king<l(>m
was a kingdom of all ag«tH, which should never be de*
stroyed ; for as there was no other institution yet in
eiistence to receive its reversion, if it ceased to reraai'!,
there, it ceased equally to exifit.

But if these supposed stains only sullied its purity,
yet did not void its title, then it follows that at the
period when the great separation of religion took
place, the body from which they separated was in as
full possession of its claims, to be the true kingdom of
the Messins, as it was at the commeneemeut of Chris-
tianity. What power or what title could then or since
transfer this Kingdom to another people, contrary to
God's holy promise ? Not the accusation of corrup-
tions, for it is proved that they couhl not have been
sufficient before, to deprive it of its rights. Not any
authority of man, for its title-deeds had been signed
and sealed by the spirit of prophecy. Nothing, then,
can since have despoiled us of those rights nhich we
possessed at that time; and, indeed, when I look
around at the present moment, I And still existing all
these characteristics which were foreshown hy the
Divine word.

800

THK KINODOM OF CnitI»T.

When, from thw centre of our religion, 1 cn«t my
view in any direction, I behold an unbounded proi^
pect, independent of any natural or political horizon.
Under every climate, under every form of govern,
ment, I discover myriads who daily recjte the same
act of faith, and perform the same wonj^.p as tnysel^ ;
who look at the same objects and institutions witb
reverence, and acknowledge the «ame supreme power,
under whose more immediate authority I now address
you. I see, in every part, the missionaries of religion ad-
vancing each day further into unconquered terntones.
treading the dark forests of the Western Hemisphere,
or disguising themselves in the populous cities of the
ends of the East.-in both directions daily adding new
subjects to the kingdom of the UvA. 1 ^^^^^'^l^
and extended, yet compact and coherent sociey, every-
where a conspicuous and distinguished body, the boaat
of many powerful monarchs, the pride of leanied and
eminent persons, and even where existing in a more
humble and depressed state, still the object of umyer.
8al attention and curiosity, from the splendor of itB
worship, the uniformity of its doctnnes, and the con-
stant increase of its numbers. . A f^
But if, instead of directing my looks abroad for
these characterizing marks, I cast an eye upon the
ground on which I tread, I find still more spewing
Evidence of their existence here. When I trace back
through every age, the ecclesiastical monuments which
surround me, and find them carry me back to the
earliest period of Christian history,-when I see my-
self kneeling before the veiy altars which a Sylvester
anointed, and where a Constantine adored; above all,

^'^ .' li ai p twt. j*# ' t Aii i jJtiimMm>iwwiiiiM!^^

mmmmmami

Tine KINGDOM OF CHHIST.

Z01

cftst my
ed pros-
horizon.
' govern-
the same
3 myself;
ions with
le power,
y address
iligion ad-
erritorie*,
imisphere,
iea of the
Iding new
3 this vast
Bty, every-
, the boaat
larned and
in a more
of oniyer-
idor of its
id the con-
abroad for
I upon the
e speaking
trace back,
lents which
ack to the
n I see my-
a Sylvester
above all,

when, standing in the proudest temple which the
hands or imaginations of mau ever raised to the Di-
vinity, I behold myself placed between the tomb of
the prince of the Apostles and the throne of his pres-
ent successor, in a direct linerl descent, and can trace
almost every link which unites these two extremes,
through the aahes-that repose in the tombs, or beneath
the altars that surround me, oh I will any one ask
why I cling with a feeling of pride and of affection
to that body which carries me back to the foundation
of the Church, and unites in unbroken connection,
through ages of fulfilment and of prophecy, the creed
which I profess, with the inspired visions of earlier
dispensations I

If then/ my brethren, you feel in these considera'
tions joy and satisfaction, greet with holy rejoicing the
birth of your infant King, who comes to purchase you
these blessings. ' For now a child is bom to us, and
a son is given to us, and the government is upon his
shoulder, ... his empire shall be multiplied, and
there shall be no end of peace." (Is. ix. 6, 7.) Go
in, like the Magi, and acknowledge Him your king ;
and if His humble guise and His poor appearance
shock your pride, oh ! remember that it was for you
that He put them on. Yes, and remember that,
whatever He may appear outwardly to suffer, it ia
nothing compared to the agony of His tender mind.

My brethren, the outline which I have traced has
been but imperfectly filled up. I might have added
much to oMifirm the truths which I have placed before
your minds for your consolation, or your serious con-
sideration. But there are characterbtics and qualities

TWi?1»^?^'*i&^?/:^V'V. r"^+^fcriii'5'^"'*^VTJ*ffi?*W^'J^S5^*^ yST'n

KHii—

808

THE KINGDOM OF OHBIBT.

attributed to God's kingdom on earth which can he
felt rather than described, and which are intended
more to attach " the children of the kingdom," than
to attract the stranger to it. For, while the signal
grandeur, extent, and durability of the Church, as
clearly foretold in prophecy, form powerful, and really
inconteatiblc evidence to those without, the fulfilment
of those predictions which promise to it abundance of
peace, unity, internal tranquillity, and security, can
only be recognized, or rather felt, by those who live
within, as in their own house. (Ps. Ixvii. 7.)

These alone can enjoy the peace of conviction,
through the consistency, firmness, and unchangeable-
ness of their grounds of faith, qualities commuuicated
to every doctiine they profess : the peace of unanim-
ity ; for all who bear the name of Catholic believe
the same truths without dissension or doubt, especially
in the bosom of the family ; a peace of direction, from
the feeling of confidence in the divine guidance gi-ant^
ed by the Holy spirit to the Church and to its minis-
ters, and through them to the individual conscience ;
a peace of reconciliation, after transgression cud
amidst frailties, from the thorough assurance that God
has lodged in the hands of His priesthood the power
to forgive sins, and to restore to grace ; a peace of as-
sured confidence, arising from the abundance of cher-
ished graces in so many sacraments aud other helps to
salvation, in the power of holy indulgences, in the
community of merits throughout the Church, in the
intercession of angels and saints in Heaven, and the
sublime patronage of Mary, ever pure, in life and
death, aud in the suffrages of the living after oui* de-

liich can be
ni'H intended
gdom ," than
e the signal
Church, as
il, and really
he fulfilment
ihundance of
security, can
)8e who live

7.)

f conviction,

nchangeable-
[>mniuuicated
a of unanim-
holic believe
bt, especially
irection, from
lidance grant-
to its minis-
1 conscience;
igression end
nee that God
3d the power
I peace of as-
lance of cher-
other helps to
fences, in the
Ihurch, in the
aven, and the
$, in life and
after oui* de-

•niE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

809

parture : finally, a peace of sweetest charity, affection,
and clc^est union with God, in that unspeakable mys-
tery of grace and love, in which Jesus Christ gives us
Himself.

Who can worthily speak, to those who have not
experienced them, of those treasures of goodness and
mercy which makes the inmates of God's house cling
to it with a joyful fidelity, an unshaken security, that
is inconceivable to those who are still outside of it ?
Let this our own enjoyment of such internal evidences,
and such manifold blessings, be generous, in our wish
to see every one partake in them. Stretch out your
hands, O all ye sons and daughters of God, not merely
to offer bread to those who hunger for it, but to draw
in each weary pilgrim who faints on his way, that
with you he may find rest, peace, shelter, and food 1
So will you deserve to stand one day at the right hand,
which rewards fully every spiritual, as well as every
corporal, work of mercy.

! Bl i W >'

UMMWOWi < i i. i ii» i «i:m i»«**lBili

iai<t»

• ■'*

SERMON XV.

Cahtiglb or Canticlbh, vill. S. ^

*• Who ii thii tluit oomDth up from the AewH flowing with delight, iMninf

upon her belorod Y'

Are these words, of the most difficult and most
mystical book of Scripture, supposed to be spoken on
earth or in Heaven ?

If on earth, then, my brethren, I can only imagine
to myself one who, like Simeon of old, gifted with the
knowledge of the future, and in saintliness of life, was
looking out from the inward temple of his own holi-
ness, or from the visible temple in which he habitually
dwelt on earth, to catch the fii-st glimpse of God's sal-
vation coming to man, ar.d seeing the earth around
him appear as but a desert, wayless and waterless, in
whfch as yet there has been no path traced out for the
sure guidance of man's steps, in which no well has
been dug at which his soul may be refreshed; the
whole land covered with the darkness of death, with
a night, to its greatest extent, of idolatry and crime,
and more immediately round him with the dimnes3 of
a formal and carnal religion. And yet he knows that
in the couree of but a few short yeni-a at most, there
will arise that Sun of justice who will steep and glad-
den with brightness the whole of that desert region, and

1 delight, leuiog

It and most
le spoken on

jnly imagine
'ted with the
9 of life, was
lis own holi-
le habitually
of God's sal-
jarth around

waterless, in
d out for the

no well has
freshed; the
' death, with
y and crime,
le dimness of
e knows that
t most, there
!ep and glad*
•t region, and

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIN.

811

■will make it glowing and glorious before God and men.
But does it seem to him that He will arise suddenly,
without a harbinger to announce His coming ? Will
He start up in the ^nllness and brilliancy of His majesty ?
"Will there be bf fore His rising no dawn to shine fii-at
on the earth, and dispel some portion of the darkness
resting on its face ? Will he not rather be able to
say, "Who is she that cometh as the rising dawn"
(Cant. vi. 9), whose light, falling tenderly and softly,
is not a mere reflection of the sun's beams, such as may
be gathered by the mountain's tops, but is a sweet
emanation from it — a part of that radiance softened,
but still the same as He is coming to shed over the
earth ?

K such thoughts ever entered into his mind, if even
tiiey clothed themselves before him in living and
speaking imagery, what must not have been the fulfil-
ment to his mind of that which he had before fancied,
on that day when his wishes had to be accomplished,
and when he saw that mother filled with grace, over-
flowing with maternal joy and with virginal comeliness,
entering from the wild desert of this world into the
temple of God ; bearing in her hands that very Sun
t^ at had to brighten the whole earth. Yet not bear-
ing Him so much as leaning on Him, her beloved —
leaning on Him as her only stay, her only streng ,
her only joy ; leaning on Hira, as St. Augustin, speak-
ing of that venerable old man himself, says, that
" while he seemed to bear Him in his arms, in reality,
he was supported by that child."

But were these words of my text perhaps recorded
in that sacred book, not as words spoken on earth, but

.if^u.jiaMJii.gia ' .Mjmjagii

» i < h » «

819

ESVOnON TO THE BUSSED VinOIN.

as belonging to r nobler mystery and a higher place I
Then looking through what we may know, from
glnnpses granted us, of the heavenly Jerosnlem, of
scenes that may have occurred there, when could those
words have been more perfectly fulfilled than on that
day, when that same bright creature ascended thither ;
when she came up from that which to angels* eyes
must be but a desert and place of banishment ; when
she came not as other saints must have come, but so
as to force a new burst of exultation from the lips of
blessed spirits; when she came as a new star may
break suddenly into the firmament — a fresh and pre-
cious addition of joy to that unspeakable bliss.

We may imagine how, then, the whole of Heaven
was moved at seeing her approach, and how the angels
and saints may indeed have said : " Who is this so
wondei-fully favored, nov7 coming up from that desert
below, flowing with delights, flowing with graces, with
majesty and beauty ? " If to others have been grant-
ed these gifts to the fulness of the cup, her fulness is that
of the fountain, overflowing ever, and yet ever at the
full. And she is introduced, not as others might be,
led by guardian angel or patron saint through the
opening ranks of that celestial host to the throne of
God, and there, kneeling before the faithful Rewarder
of His servants, hear those words spoken : " Well
done, thou good and faithful servant," but from the
door of Heaven, leaning, in the full confidence of
love, on her beloved, as a bride on her bridegroom, as
a mother may lean on her son.

Then, my brethren, do not these words, so wonder-
ful and beautiful, seem naturally to apply themselves

igher place f
know, fi'ora
erasnlem, of
I could those
than on that
ded thither ;

angels* eyes
raent; when
some, bat so
1 the lips of
)W star may
ish and pre-
bliss.

of Heaven
)w the angels
10 is this so
I that desert

graces, with
) been grant-
'ulness is that
I ever at the
rs might be,
through the
le throne of
ul Rewarder
:en : " Well
•ut from the
onfidence of
idegroom, as

, 80 wonder-
! themselves

DEVOTION TO THE BLE89ED VIRGIN.

813

to the two entrances, when born first into this world
of trial, and then into that country of bliss; and may
we not justly consider them as belonging to herespec-
ially, even though partially they may be applied to
othera? These words come naturally before my
thoughts, because the Church, in the coui-se of this
week, will celebrate one of these first appearances of
this chosen saint, of the most blessed Virgin Mary,
the mother of the Incarnate Word of God. For, in
the course of this week, occure the festival of her
Conception, which the Church, even before it had de-
fined it as of faith, believed to be immaculate— that is,
without sin, without spot or stain— a mystery, won-
derful in itself, but, except by Catholics, little under-
stood. I have, therefore, thought that I could not
better prepare the thoughts and feelings of my hear-
ers for the celebration, with peculiar solemnity, of
this festival, than by explaining the meaning of it, and
the manner in which it is underatood and felt by Cath-
olics ; not by proving it, not by entering into argu-
ments which involve long quotations and discussions,
but only by putting it before you jn its simplicity,
and endeavoring to make you feel how natural this be-
lief is, and how obvious it must be to Chiistian feelings.
But allow me to begin somewhat remotely, because
a groundwork must be laid for my argument. Allow
me, at first, in a simple and obvious mode, to bring be-
fore you the grounds on which Catholics celebrate, at
all, the festivals of the saints, and what they mean by
it ; and thus, led step by step, you will see how natural
it is that this festival should be to us one of the
greatest consolation and joy.

••NMII

■Ot I t l .JW

■^■^ilWWMM^Hi

lOii ,iiii I iiiw#i

DXVOnOM TO Tm BUEB8KD viRonr.

There is not a Bingle claM of Christians that doei
not possess what is well known hy the name of its
calendar. Let it be a common almanac, such aH is
published by authority in our country, or let it be that
which is printed uniformly at the beginning of every
Prayor-book that contains the service of the Chui-ch
of England. That calendar has probably been looked
at again and again by every one, yet it is possible
that some of its most striking features may not have
been sufficiently observed. It will be found that, in
addition to certain greater feasts, there are marked on
particular days the names of pei-sons long ago deceased
-—the names of pei-sons with nhom individually we
can have no sympathy — the names of peraons who
have not any special relation to our national ideas, or
any connection with our history, but still whose names
are there ; and it is not difficult at once to see that
they are there because they have been men distin-
guished for virtue, for holiness of life, for what they
have done or suffered for Christ. There are Saints
Peter and Paul, St. Luke, St. Matthew, St. Austin, St.
Elphege, with other names scattered over the paged,
recorded no doubt, for some particular purpose. Is '
a practical purpose — one which is brought ordinarily
into action, in connection with the thoughts or feelings
of the day ? With hundreds and thousands most likely
it is not. But it is more than probable that many
persons, if asked why the names of those who are
called saints are recorded there, would reply, because
they were there many years ago, when a piactice ex-
isted of devotion to the saints, though perhaps it
might have been better had they been withdrawjp ;

■MMi

^Mkk

»•

lonr.

ans that doei
6 name of its
ac, Buch AH ia
ir let it bo that
ning of every
)f tlie Church
ly been looked

it is possible
may Dot have
[bund that, in
fire marked on
^ ago deceased
iividunlly we

persons who
onal ideas, or
1 whose uamee
a to see that
a men distin*
or what they
re are Sainta
H. Austin, St.
er the paged,
urpose. Is '
fht ordinarily
hts or feelings
ds most likely
le that many
bose who are
reply, because
a practice ex-
;h perhaps it
t withdrawjp;

DXVOTIOM TO TUB BLKSftED VIRGIN.

815

while there are some who consider this a part of what
has been saved from the plundered treasures of the
ancient Church ; who think that the record of those
■ainU is a constant protest against forgetfulness of de-
votion which should be paid to them, and that they
are mentioned to excite the faithful to a communion
of some sort, even with those whose names are not

handed down.

But to explain the meaning, according to Catholic
thought and feeling, of this record of names, I will for
a moment put that book aside. We will close the
Prayer-book, and turn to the old family Bible, where
we find a calendar at the beginning containing naraee,
and those names marked with particular dates. To
pass over more sorrowful events, there has been regis-
tered the day on which each child of the family
was bom, and that day is noted as a sac.ed one in
family feeling and family usages. It is true that
among those names there occur those of some who for
a long time have not been seen.

Perhaps there was one child who, from early years,
manifesting a manly and independent spirit, went
forth to the regions of the west, bearing with him
what the family had been able to give him as his por-
tion, and there, by industry, and honesty, and steadi-
ness of life, he is known to have amassed considerable
wealth, and to have acquired for himself a high posi-
tion, so as to be well spoken of and honored by liU
who know him. There was another, who, in his open-
ing youth, filled with courage and ardor, went to the
east to fight his countiy's battles ; who has gained vio
toriee on the sultry plains of India; till at length his

810

DIVOnON TO TIIR BL,IC88KD VIUOIN.

brow 18 ( raliadowed with laurels, and bin name !•
chronicled in the history of lii^ country; and ho has
gained not only honor but glory among men.

But, diHtant as they may be, far uwny as tiiey Kojourn
in the ea^t or the west, that record in the family cal-
endar in the bond that unites them. Does the mother
forget the returning birthday of these her absent and
renowned children ? Does she not make preparation
beforehand — does she not invite the friends and rela-
tions of her children to join with her in commemorat-
ing that day, because it gave birth to one who is yet
both honored and loved ? And the feast is prepared,
and all are seated round its table, and all hearts are
most joyful; younger children are there who have
never seen their elder brethren, who had departed
from home before they were even born ; and yet they
feel they have a right to be proud of them as bro-
thers, and they feel a love towards them, and they
know them, and on that day they speak of nothing
else. And the parent loves to record incidents of the
early days of the one who is commemorated, incidents
that give foreshadowings of his future wisdom or
greatness ; a thousand anecdotes are preserved of his
words and of his actions, and they are repeated again
and again, year after year, to ears willing to listen and
to hearts filled with love. And now suppose that Just
at that moment, when the father is opening* his lips to
speak in benediction of that child that has given honor
to his grey hairs, and when every eye is glistening
with joy, and every ear intent to hear the repetition
of his homely and deorest thoughts, suppose that at
that moment some one, with scornful eye and bit-

i* Im m

Ollf.

1 \m nnitiA {■
; nnd hu has
tn«>n.

H tln'y nojouni
\ti family cnl<
es the mothfi*
er absent ond
e preparation
nds and rela*
cotumeniornt-
e who is yet
t Ih prepared,
ill hearts are
re who have
bad departed
and yet they
them ao bro-
t;m, and they
k of nothing
^idents of the
ted, Incidents
i wisdom or
served of his
3peaied again
f to listen and
pose that just
ng' his lips to
3 given honor
is glistening
he repetitioB.
iposu that at
eye and bit*

DlVOTlOIf TO THK BLEBSED VIBOW.

317

ter word^ were to say : " What folly 1 what delation !
Know you not that the aflfections of home cl.ng not to
a man when ho has attained the object of Ins life ?
Think you that they who are now at ea^e m a distant
land who have the fulness of their desires given them,
who'are now surrounded by new frieuils and oonnec
tions more properly their own, think you that they
care any more for mother or brethren left behind in
the toils and struggles of hornet No; .t is folly to
recall the memory of such ; they are gone from you
forever." Will the hearts of those sitting round sym-
pathize with these words or not ? No; they sympa.
thize with the tears of sorrow, or, more, of indignation,
which burst from the mother's eyes. Is it not the
pride and joy of her heart to think that on that same
day at that same hour, the absent ones are recoiling to
mind what is being said at their dear home, about
them ; that this is a bond of sympathy with the
younger ones who have still to win their reward ; and
that each one is wishing and praying for happiness
and joy on those whom, though distant, he loves ? Is
not this the natural feeling which any of you will en-
tertain of the affections of this life 1 What, then,
have I to say when similar words are spoken of those
who have been ours, who are oure, and who still love

"^^Return now to that other record in which *re those
of whom I first spoke. Your Mother the Church will
tell you: These are my children, this is the birth-day
to life, to true and eternal life, of a brother of yours,
a child of mine, nursed in the same bosom that bore
you, fed with the same milk which has given vigor to

aHilPip

S18

Dtvonow TO mi itmiXD mont.

you, taught hy tho unme month fiorn whi< Ii you hnve
l.'ftrin'<l ; thU w.-w a chihl of njiuo, to whom \m Uttxi
and Fnth«T gave flv« talcnti ntitl wnt away t«» a di».
tant ngicrn from Ilimwlf, or nithtr H« withilrovr
Himself from him, ftn«l thow tnlontH hy hiii trading he
haa doubled iu the aight of hin I^ird ; ho hftM ht-en a
merchant, and haa laid up for himNclf tn-wmrea in
Heaven, where the moth consumea not, and the ruat
deatroyeth not It ii a St. Francis, who gave up all
for Chriit, that he might the more completely win and
embrace Chriit ; it la a St. Vincent of Paul, who,
whatever were the richaa which the great ones of the
world poured into hia open arms, lavished them again
with no less open hands on the poor of Christ, and
for all that he caat away, laid up ten times the amount
in Heaven : this is the child far away from us whose
birth-day we commemorate. And the other — thiswasa
Lmirence, or Stephen, a child full of ardor and real
and the love of God, who went forth to fight His bat-
ties, who fought, who conquered, and triumphed ; and
be now reigns glorious in Heaven, and his name is »
veiy benediction in tho mouths of all. And you come
and tell me it ia folly to think more of them, that
they are dead, and forever gone, whose bones are
crumbled to dust, whose souls have forgotten men.
And I nak in return, Is it your opinbn that Heaven
is a place in which whatever is honorable to man,
whatever is moat precious to his soul, whatever is most
beautiful in his nature after the corruption of sin has
defiled it, that love, in short, which is the very nature
of God, is a thing not only unknown there, but ban-
iahed thenoe, and never to be admitted I Tell me,

am.

hich yoti have
iom )iii4 I^iitl
ivfty to A din-

\Ul witllllll'MT

liifi trnding ha
) hftit been a
' trt-Mureii in
an<l the rtut
gave up nil
etely win and
if Pttul. who,
t onea of the
il thoin again
f Christ, and
iH the amount
oni us whose
sr — this wA9a
lior and zeal
fight His bat-
mphed ; and
his name is a
nd you come
>f them, that
ie bones are
•gotten men.
that Hcaveu
iblo to man,
itever is most
n of sin has

I very nature
ere, but ban-

II Ti-n me,

DITOnOlf TO TBI ILIMID VIRaiH. 819

then that yo« con^idor Heaven to U a place in whl.-h
tb« .cml is to bo employe<l for eternity in l.x.kii.g <>r
diving into the u.ifiithomublo abys of love which
Ood iH, an.l se..it.g that that love is a love not merely
sleeping and inactive, but exerciiiing itself m ten thou-
Kind ways, with all the resources of infinite power, atid
yet believe that in tlmt ocean you must not love what

Go<l loves. , , , .

Tell me that you l)elieve Heaven to be a bK)kmg
Into the face of Christ, and there wondering forever
at the infinite love, and tenderness, and me.cy, and
compassion, and affection beaming from it, and thos«
wounds received that men might be redeemed at such
1^ price— tell me that it consists in the happmess of
loving your Saviour for what He has done for man,
and endeuvonng as much as pos«iblo to be like to
Him; and that yet you must contrive not to l«»ve that
which is the very spring of all which you admire in
Him. and endeavor not to be like Him in that in which
He is most amiable to us. For there He is interest,
ing Himself for men, showing His wounds, and idead-
ing still by them with His heavenly Father: and we
are to understand that we must not join in such an
offlce, and must, not take delight therein, fell me
how you understand Heaven to be the association of
holy flouls, united by a botld of the strictest mutual
love forming their very lif- ; and yet when one who
has been dear to you on earth comes into that same
happy region in which you enjoy bliss, it is to be un-
derstood that you will receive him as a stranger, you
will know nothing of him, and it will be a glory to
you that your heart is unfettered by the tiei of duty,

wiWWMlviHi

820

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIN.

gratitude, or love. Tell me, have you accepted
Heaven from God on these conditions ? have you in-
sisted that when your soul has been called forth from
this earth, and you are to ascend to Heaven, that in-
stant, that moment, it is your intention, for if it is God's
will it ought to he, to forget child and wife, and par-
ents, and to care no more for them ? Oh, if the pre-
cept of renouncing father and mother, and whatever
we love on earth, for Christ's sake, be not truly the
price of which we obtain a hundred-fold enjoyment
hereafter, hard, indeed, would be the condition, were
it thus made the terms, not for obtaining more, but
for losing even that forever I

And now, my brethren, returning to the point from
which I started, you must understand that there must
be a scale of love ; that if in Heaven saints have differ-
ent prerogatives, that if, when united together, there
will be some who have a right to pray with a more
powerful intercession, some who have peculiar claims
to a greater love from us on earth, who have still
greater right to love us themselves, there must be some
rule whereby this hierarchy of saints is regulated. And
the rule is one simple and obvious enough, to all who
have ever considered the prerogatives of God's saints.
We honor them, we esteem them, we love them, we
believe them to have influence, in proportion as they
are nearer to God. The martyr who has done the
utmost that man can do, who, by giving his life for
Christ, has shown the greatest love that man can bear,
must be placed far above those who have not attained
this privilege, and who consequently plead not that
same intensity of love. The apostles, who were the

.iiiM^lliil^iJhtf .-<

accepted
I you in-
)rth from
, that in-
t i8 God's
and par-
■ the pie-
whatever
truly the
njoyment
iion, were
more, but

)oint from
liere must
ave differ-
her, there
th a more
iar claims
have still
t be some
ited. And
to all who
id's saints.

them, we
n as they

done the
lis life for
1 can l>ear,
it attained
. not that
I were the

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN.

321

■

immediate foUowei-s and companions of the Son of God
in life, whom He chose to be with Ilim iu His trials,
to whom He committed His full power on earth, who,
in addition to martyrdom like othei-s, had also the
glory of being His messengers over the whole world—
they are naturally placed in a higher sphere nearer
the throne of God, more closely approaching Him,
more vividly beholding Him, enjoying greater famili-
arity and more intimate union with the affections of
their divine Master.

Then what shall we say of her whom God chose to
adhere in every time and place to the Redeemer of the
world. His own Word incarnate ; so that never, for a
moment, was she allowed to be willingly separated
from Him ; who alone saw Him born and saw Him
die, who alone heard His first infant cry, and heard
also his last agonizing commendation of His soul to
His eternal Father ; who nuraed Him through infancy,
and attended Him in His last houre ; who may be said
to have shared with Him all His sorrows, all His trib-
ulations; who went with Him to Egypt, flying from
the wrath of Herod ; who nourished Him in His child-
hood, who hungered with Him, who bore poverty
with Him in His youth at Nazareth, who followed
Him weeping from city to city, and sought Him
through calumny and reproach, even to the pereecu-
tions which threatened His life 1 If the closeness with
which any one was privileged to stand by our Lord on
earth, is the criterion of the place occupied in Heaven,
and of the prerogatives there granted, who can doubt
that she, the most blessed Virgin Mary, has a place in
the court of her Sou such as is granted to none other I

iW^i'fi

822

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIN.

Who can doabt for a moment that when she was
introduced in Heaven into the royal and divine pres-
ence of that Son, that same scene took place which is
described as occurring when Solomon's mother was
announced: "The king arose to meet her, and bowed
to her ; and a throne was set for the king's mother,
and she sat on his right hand" ? (3 Kings, ii. 19.) '

For, after all, when we speak of her close connection
with the Son of God, as associated with Him through
the whole of His painful life, all this is a consequence
of something higher still; it is because she had an
interest in Him, a claim on Him, which no other hu-
man being could ever establish, and a claim which of
all othei-s was on His heart, and, through his heart, on
all redeemed mankind. It was because she gave to
Him all that he had, of that human nature, with which,
as an instrument, His Divinity worked on earth;
those feet that went forth bearing glad tidings to
Jerusalem ; those powerful hands, which dropped heal-
ing on the sick and the infirm, and restored life to the
dead ; those eara, that were open to every sigh for
compassion, every cry for help ; those eyes, that ever
beamed with mercy and forgiveness on the distressed
and the sinner; those lips, that never spoke but in
words full, as the honeycomb, with wisdom and sweet-
ness; that heart into which she transfused her own
blood, and which He poured out again to the last drop
for man, as the price of his redemption ; that breath,
that life, which He gave in expiation for sin, and for
the redemption of us all. To have given all this to
the Son of God, to have made a present to mankind of
it all, sui-ely established in the eternal counsels of God,

%Mrti*^

!*ty y. »yw g p««

m she was
divine pres-
ice which m
nother was
and bowed
g's mother,
ii. 19.)'

connection
im through
onsequence
}he had an
o other hu-
m which of
is heart, on
he gave to
«rith which,

on earth;

tidings to
opped heal-
L life to the
:y sigh for
, that ever

distressed
oke but in
and sweet-
i her own
e last drop
lat breath,
in, and for
all this to
nankind of
els of God,

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIN.

323

first a link between Him and her, and then between
her and ns — ^a link which cannot be shared by angel
or by saint. And tlierefore does the Church of God
place her incomparably above all created beings ; and
therefore do the hearts of the Church's children yearn
towards her, knowing that her Son as she loved Him
must have loved her.

But we have given her prerogatives enough when
we make her enjoy such privileges as these. Why
give her more ? "Why not be content with so much ?
and why attribute to her also the gift of sinlessness,
and believe that never for a moment was she defiled
even by original stain 1

I will tell you why, in few and simple words. It
is because the Catholic Church exalts to so much
higher and so much diviner a degree than othera do
the holiness of her Sou. "We look on Him as so pure,
so holy, as so repellent of sin, and even transgression
of the slightest nature, that we cannot admit for a
moment, or believe, that He would permit Himself to
come in contact with it. We cannot believe that He,
who was so jealous of purity, that He would not have
His Father allow Him, although He might taste of
death, and the scourge, and the buffet, to see corrup-
tion, that He would not suffer His lifeless body to
repose after death in a tomb which its savor could
possibly have reached, — we cannot, I say, believe He
would for an instant permit to approach His animated
body, filled with His Divinity, what to Him is far
more hateful than the coiTuption of death — the de-
filement of sin. And because we know Him to be
the new Adam, come to give fresh life to the world,

824

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIW.

we believe Him equally pure with the firet, and ua-
able to allow one drop of tainted blood to flow in Hia
veins. Now, in no way could the attainder be cut
off, save by preventing it reaching her from whom
alone His blood was to be received. But further still,
does it not seem natural that if He loved His mother,
and must have loved her with sucl love as God made
man alone could entertain, He must have wished to
bestow on her, of all gifts, the one which she must
necessaiily most have coveted. . He made her pure
and holy, He made her detest sin above any evil in
existence. But if a child had it in his power to be-
stow on his own mother any gift whatever, and knew
there was one which she prized most highly, would it
not be that which h( would grant? And to a soul .
like hers, what would all other gifts have been to
compare with this, to be able to think that never was
there a moment in her life when God had turned
away His face from her as from a being hateful and
loathsome, as every one must be, with the stain of
original sin ? And He must also have bestowed on
her this very love of inexpressible purity and holiness,
which would make her desire it, in order that she
might be qualified to be the mother of the Holy One,
the spotless Lamb.

It is not, then, unreasonable, my brethren, to honor
the saints of God and to love them. It is not unreasona-
ble, in return, to believe that they love us ; and that love
not merely an abstract or passive affection, but, like
God's love for man, an active love. It is not unreasona-
ble especially to believe, that the blessed Mother of
God has privileges and prerogatives which are be-

«*>

DKVOTIOTSr TO THE BLESSED VIROIIT.

825

fc, and un-
low in His
er be cut
•om whom
irther still,
[is mother,
God made
wished to
she must
) her pure
any evil in
ower to be-
, and knew
y, would it
id to a soul '
ve been to
t never was
bad turned
hateful and
he stain of
)estowed on
ind holiness,
er that she
5 Holy One,

en, to honor
>t unreasona-
md that love
on, but, like
»t unreasona-
d Mother of
hich are be-

stowed on none other of the saints of God, and conse-
quently that she has greater power with her Son, and
higher claims on our hearts and affections. And it is
not wonderful that these thoughts, which aflfection en-
genders, should lead us by a straighter flight than the
more circuitous road which theologians must tread, to
arrive at once at the belief in that mystery so dear to
the Catholic, of the spotlessness of the ever-blessed
Mother of God, even from the beginning of her exis-
tence upon earth. One word more concerning her, and
I will conclude. It is true that our blessed Redeemer is
the real Sun of justice who alone can shine on our hearts
with that saving power and grace, through which alone
we can attain our reward ; and it ia only He, that bril-
liant Sun in the firmament of Heaven and the Church,
who can enlighten our faith, warm our hope, enkindle
our charity ; for from Him alone comes grace, from Him
alone is light, from Him is life. But tell me, is it less that
same Sun, or is He less to you when, instead of being
viewed directly in all His dazzling briliancy, He comes
on you mellowed, as it were, through the storied win-
dow, bearing, imprinted on His own rays, the eflBgies
of saints and angels who would have no existence
there but for His light, for all was dark, shapeless,
colorless, until His rays came ; and then on a sudden
He gave them light and color, and He shaped them
into form, and He softened His own radiance as He
shone through them ; but without Him they had no
existence.

And so the Church contemplates, through the
saints, the glory of the Son of God. In their own
nature they were sinful, frail, and helpless ; but they

a26

DEVOnoW TO niB BLESSED VlROm.

have be«»ri the me^iiim through which the raja of
divine j:- uve pa««ed ; and as they so shone, they
have ha. eir brilliancy made ♦^adorable. For our
Lord's bright virtues thus appear not only admirable,
but in some respect imitable, because we can copy
those of the saints as steps to conduct us to the life of
Christ. And is there not one whom all should be
glad to see the model especially of Christian women ?
Catholic mothers, will you leave your children to pick
up the type of their sex from the novel or the ro-
mance of the day ? Will you have them form their
characters, either upon that stern and cold virtue
which the world admires, or upon that soft and mise-
rable effeminacy with which it depicts the milder
mind? Will you leave them to model themselves
on what is considered the noble form of character in
their sex, the masculine heroines of ancient or modern
timej, who forgot the gentler and softer virtues be-
longing to their nature, to cultivate, rather, intellect,
and displ.^y boldness even in religious speculation?
Or do you wish to find them classed with those who
have passed with cold mediocrity through the trials
of life ; amiable, perhaps, but possessed of barely or-
dinary virtues ?

Will you, I ask, leave them to follow such wretched
models, when you have before you that type of female
excellence, which from the time of St. Ambrose, was
placed before the youthful maiden ; as that on which
she must study to form herself, that in which there is
found all that is tender and yet all that is firm ; and
which, from the humble virgin refusing the highest of
honors, brings before us, finally, the matron enduring

DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED VIROIIT.

827

the rays of
shone, they
>. For our

admirable,
) can copy
[) the life of

should be
an women ?
ren to pick

or the ro-

forra their
cold virtue
t and mise-
the milder

themselves
jharacter in
; or modern
virtues be-
jr, intellect,
peculation ?
I those who
I the trials
r barely or*

ih wretched
)e of female
nbrose, was
%t on which
lich there is
) firm; and
B highest of
m enduring

anguish and agony such as falls to the lot of no other
woman on earth 2 Can you, for a moment, hesitate to
perceive, how useful, how salutary, how saving it would
be, if you could make this the example that is to be
imitated in every family, and thus becomo at length
the recognized type of all that is great and at the same
time gracious ?

Then, do not listen to words that you may hear
spoken almost scornfully of her, whom it is impossible
to think on without love. Do not allow yourselves,
because it may be thought expedient to repel Catholic
doctrine from you, to hear that which is most beauti-
ful in the whole history of Christianity, saving Him
only who has no paragon, I will not merely say with
contempt, but even with coldness and indifference.
On the contraiy, fling away with indignation such
suggestions from you, and look at her character, her
history, her prerogatives, with the simple feehngs of
nature, if not with the eyes of Catholic faith, and I am
sure that there is not one of you who will not be ready
to admit, that it should be a motive of virtuous pride
to be able to say, that this has been her own model,
and the one which she has proposed to her children
for imitation. And I am sure that such a one would
come at l^gth to admit the whole of what I have
said, the whole of what the Catholic Church teaches
i-especting the blessed and immaculate Mother of God ;
and that in the end, she would find and proclaim that
this copying of so sublime, yet so winning an exam-
pie, had made her path smooth and easy, nay, that it
had made it the sweetest, and at the same time, the
most safe, to eternal life.

■ir

SERMON XVI.
^tftt^rntion at tbe ^UmA f irgiu.

LvKK, xl. 27.

" And it cuno to pas, u He spoke theee thingi, that a certain woman
from the crowd, lifting up hor voice, laid to Him : Bleaied la the womb
that bore Thee, and the brcaata that gave Thee auck."

The iocidcnt thus recorded in the Gospel which has
just been sung,* is contained in f«w words, but is,
nevertheless, full of consoling instruction. The wo-
man who so fearlessly raises her voice above the crowd
had seen Jesus perform many works of mighty power;
she has heard the strong pereuasiveness wherewith
He delivered instructions of sublimest import ; she
had noted, too, the commanding grace, and dignity,
and majesty which clothed His person, and ennobled
all His actions. And yet, she exclaimed not, " blessed
are those hands wherein God hath placed the staff of
His power," — nor " the lips which He hath overspread
with such sweetness," — nor "the heart wherein He
hath folded up so much counsel." But, by a transi-
tion most natural, she considered how lovely must
have been the flower which produced so aweet a fruit,
how hallowed and pure the body which conceived, and
bore, and nourished, so holy and privileged a being :
herself, perhaps, a mother, she calculated the joys of

* Qospel of the Votive Mais of tho Bteeaed Virgin.

certain womtn
ed la the womb

1 which has
rds, but is,
The wo-
B the crowd
hty power;
wherewith
iport ; she
lid dignity,
d ennobled
>t, " blessed
ihe staff of
overspread
rherein He
ly a transi-
Dvely must
reet a fruit,
ceived, and
d a being:
the joys of

rgln.

VENERATION OF THE DLE8SED VmOIN.

959

hv\\ to whom alone it had been given to nurse and ca-
ress Him ill infancy, to enjoy His company, and com-
mand Him in youth, and for whom alone— however
the waters of His charity and graciousness might flow
abroad— was reserved in His breast, that sealed foun-
tain of man's affections, filial duty, respect, and love.
And hence, borne away by an amiable enthusiasm,
and nothing fearing that by commending and blessing
such a mother, she could offend such a Son, she raised
her voice, almost unwittingly, and exclaimed : " Bless-
ed is the womb that bore Thee, and the breasts that^
gave Thee suck. •

Nor was there any reproof of these sentiments im-
plied in His answer : " Yea, rather," or, as it snight
have been, perhaps, better rendered, " Yea, likewise
blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep
it." For, in like manner, when Thomas upon touch-
ing our Saviour's wounds proclaimed Him his Lord
and God, our blessed Redeemer replied that they were
blessed who had not seen, and yet believed (John, xx-
29) ; and did not surely thereby signify, that we, who
believe darkly, as striving against our senses, and adore
at a distance, as through a thick veil, have a more
blessed lot than those chosen few who were allowed
to hear His voice, and touch His sacred body, and kiss
His open wounds. But He wished to teach the apos-
tles and us that, as all could not aspire to that extra-
ordinary happiness, it behoved us to be content with
that measure which it pleases God to grant us, end
thus He in part corrected Thomas for refusing to be
contented with less blessed evidence of His being
risen than he himself chose to demand. In like man-

830

VKirXRATIUN OF T1IK BLEKHKD VIHOIlf.

ner did lie turn the pious woman in the Gospel, from
the contemplation of n nublime and unattainable bent*
itude, for which none might ever long, to thut ihore
which HJie might hope to reach, ond which was projwr
for her condition — the blessing of being a hearer and
doer of Ilia holy word. Thus here, tut in the cose
of Thomas, the pointing out a happincMS more within
the reach of men, than that which was alluded to,
does not impair, but rather enhances, the beatitude of
the higher state, by pronouncing it beyond hope.

We then, my brethren, os Venerable Bede exhorteth
us, will raise our voices, with this holy woman, above
the crowd, ond proclaim as she did, blessed the womb
that bore Jesus made man, and the breasts that gave
Him suck, an infant for our sakes ; and that we may
do so with greater assurance, we will consider the
right she of whom we treat hath to our gratitude and
veneration. But bo for from allowing those feelings
to prejudice our better interests, we will, on the con-
trary, see how highly beneficial they may be rendered
to our eternal welfare. Thus shall we first imitate
the pious example proposed to us by the Gospel, and
then profit by the lessons drawn from it by our heav-
enly Teacher.

It is not ray intention, my brethren, to enter into
any controvei-sy, for the purpose of proving to you,
from sacred authority or from human reason, that it
is just and proper in us to honor and venerate the
caints of God, and above them all the Queen of the
Saints. For I feel that here I stand in the midst of
my brethren, of those who come to the house of God,
in full conviction of all the truths therein taught, and

■MMi

>IK.

VKNERATIOM OF Till BLBWICD VIROIW.

3^1

lOHpel, from
ilniible l)«Ht«
tliut share
I wfts proper
, benr«r and
in the cAse
nore within
alluded to,
beatitude of
' hope,
le exhorteth
)mau, above
d the womb
tfl that gave
hat we may
sonoider the
ratitude and
J08e feelings
on the con-
be rendered
first imitate
Gospel, and
)y our heav-

) enter into
ing to you,
inson, that it
renerate the
ueen of the
he raidat of
DQse of God,
taught, and

only anxious to improve in the practiee of all they in-
culcat«». And ihhmI I ttill NUch a« you, that the con-
tenjplation of the glory of the sainto, and of their
ilignity and joy, so far from drawing awoy our
thoughts and hopes from (Jod, doth rather raise them
up more gently from the earth, to fly towards Ilim ?
For one who sh.^uhl wish to contemplate the beauty
of a glorious summer'n day, would not go forth and
boldly raise his eyes, and fix them upon the burning
luminary, from which all its radiance and warmth
proceed, well knowing that he would thereby only
dazzle and afflict his sight; but rather, casting them
lower, he would let them wander over the mildor
diversity of Nature's face. Or, if possible, he would
rest them upon a well-tilled garden ; and, as he there
ol>served the rich variety of shape, and hue, and
fragrance, and loveliness, in the flowers that surrounded
him, remembering that all these divers forms and quali-
ties are but the reflection and production of that
source of light which brings them into being, he
v^ould thereby conceive a sweeter and livelier idea of
that day's splendor, and of that luminary's benefits,
than if he had at once gn'.ed upon his brightness.
And in like manner when we wish to meditate upon
the glories of God's eternal day, we will not at once
dart our glance on that Father of Lights, who dwelleth
in light inaccessible, but rather will pause to meditate
upon the beauties of his heavenly Eden ; and whea
we contemplate assembled together the unstained
virgin, and the empurpled martyr, and the triumphant
apostle, and all the other orders of heavenly beings,
with one rising above the rest, and uniting in herself

889

VKNtriATION or nif! DLKMKO VIROIIf.

thn pxrpllcnclos of tlii'tn nil ; nnd when, morcovflr, we
rcnu'iitlici' tlint all tlicnc clmrnin aro hut oriuuintions
anil roflootions (»f llin <'fl'iil^'«'nr(«, w« hlmll nN«ur(Mlly
form ft trufT and inoro cotiHoliug e.Htitnnto of Iliii hcftuty
nnd hen«'fit'<'iic«», niid mighty power, than if we hud
ftwed nnd ovtM\vhrlni«ul our minds by nternly gnzing
upon ilia Hplcntlor. TheN, too, aro wo more owiily led
to reflect, that wo likev lao flre now what these once
were, 8«'«HUiiigp, ho to speak, in the numery of the
heavenly husbandman, ilestined, as soon as we shall
reach our becoming growth, to be tranaplanted into
that garden of His d<:light.

But, turning now to her, with whoso higher dignity
I wish principally to ennoble my discourse, it must bo
noted that the woman in my text was not the first
that pronounced her " blessed." The fli-st was Gabriel
the archangel, who saluted her as "blessed among
women" (Luke, i. 28) ; ihe second was Elizabeth, filled,
as the sacred text says, with the Holy Ghost, who re-
peated the angel's words (42); the third was Mary
herself, who exclaimed that thenceforth all generations
should call her blessed. (48.) Now, these words
have the form of prophecy ; and that prophecy must
have been fulfilled. But by whom ? Not, surely, by
those who, in discouwe, never bestow upon her that
title ; not by those who never make her the topic of
their religious instruction, unless it be to reprehend
and reprobate the only honor and veneration bestowed
upon her on earth ; not by those into the scheme of
whose theoolgy the consideration of her blessedness
never enters — no, nor even her name, unless it be to
denounce those as superstitious or something worse,

Ollf.

♦'iiuumtions
ill nMHurc'dly
f His hcftiity
I if we hud
ernly gazing
iro oanily led
b these once
n»ery of the

AS we nhall
planted into

ghor dignity
e, it must bo
not the first
wna Gabriel
38sed among
labeth, filled,
best, who re-
d was Mary
I generations
these words
ophecy must
»t, surely, by
)on her that
the topic of
to reprehend
Ion bestowed
le scheme of
• blessedness
less it be to
ithiug worse,

ATION or TlfR HLfWIKD VtROTN.

nsB

who nd(h«'«M Imr a^ did an nrt'lmtig«»l, and on© inspired
by th« Holy Ghoat, of whom it is said, that she
walked in nil tiie conunandme'iitN of the Lord without
blame. (6.)

It has, indeed, b<>en urged by fiomo, to excuse their
ftvcrsion to showing respect to Maiy, that our Haviotir
Himself, through life, treated IHh Mother with marked
indifference; that lie answered her even harshly at
the weddiiig feast of Cana (John, ii. 4),* and tliat He
refused to recognize her, when told that she was ask-
ing for Uim without. (Matt. xii. 48.) There have
no^ been wanting men who have seriously urged these
instances, in their writings, as a key to the feelings of
our divine Redeemer towards his blessed Mother; and
have even assumed that He thereby meant to give us
a model and a rule of our feelings and bearing towards
her. Now I will even allow that these circumstances
ore usually fairly represented, and that our Lord
so conducted Himself towards our bleKsed lady, as to
show in the strongest manner that, when once He had
entered on His sacred ministry. He had snapped com-
pletely in sunder the bonds of the flesh, and allowed
none, however dear to Him, further to interfere with
His designs ; and that He consequently did appear, on
some occasions, to check her eager love. Even allow
all this, and does it follow that we are to select these
instances as the rule of our conduct and speech ?

Our Redeemer often reproached His apostles as
men of little faith. (Matt. viii. 26; xiv. 81.) Are
tvCf therefore, to forget all their labora in our behalf,

• On thia pMM«« M* tba DuUt'n Rnina, April, 1887, p. 4M.

:%
■ "^
Kc^

••a»>

VENKUATION OF THE BLESSED VIROIN.

884

and their suflFeiings for Christ, nnd the dignity of their
apostleship, and their sealing of the faith with their
blood, and judge of their Master's disposition towards
them only from His words of strong reproof? He
addressed Peter in these hai*8h terms : " Get behind
uie, Satan ; thou art a scandal to me, because thou
savorest not the things that are of God." (Matt. xvi.
23.) And will any one thence reason, that we should
overlook his warmer zeal and thrice-recorded love,
and his confession of our Lord's divinity, and the pas-
toral charge and keys of the kingdom delivered to
him, only to dwell upon the sterner moments of severe
correction 2 And to John, too. He said, turning round
and rebuking: "Ye know not of what spirit ye are."
(Luke, ix. 55.) Must we then not heed that he was
the beloved disciple that leaned upon his Master's
bosom ; who stood alotfe of the twelve on Golgotha
by the cruel tree ; to whom, beyond others, were re-
vealed the mysteries of the future ; and who closed
the inspired volume by the longing aspirations of love
divine; but feel and speak of him as one whom Jesus
reprimanded and strongly rebuked, and for whom,
consequently. He wished us never to feel or express
reverence, gratitude, or love ?

And if not, then let not a similar argument be im-
piously or ignorantly urged with regard to Mary ; and
even supposing, what God forbid that I should ever
allow, that her dear Son should sometimes have seemed
to act towards her with a reserve bordering on se-
verity, should not we rather remember that it was she
who bore for nino months in her womb the Saviour of
our souls, and who suckled Him with her milk ; that

UN.

884

nity of their
1 with their
;ion towards
jproof? He
Get behind
ecause thou

(Matt. xvi.
it we should
5orded love,
ind the pas-
delivered to
nts of severe
irning round
>irit ye are."
that he was
his Master's
>n Golgotha
ers, were re-

who closed
tions of love
whom JesQS
i for whom,
1 or express

nent be im-
) Mary ; and
should ever
have seemed
eriog on se-
Eit it was she
le Saviour of
> milk ; that

VENERATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.

835

she carried Him in her arms through the desert to
save Him from His enemies ; that she had loving care
of Him for many years at Nazareth ; that she suffered
three years of racking anxiety on His account while
the Jews sought His life ; and that she endured more
for Him than any other mortal, standing to gaze on
His death-hour, beneath the shadow of His bruised
limbs and thorny crown ? And oh 1 did not those last
words, when, with His failing breath, He proclaimed
her His Mother, and commended her to John, com-
pensate for all past severity in Urn demeanor, if such
had existed, or such had been possible, in Him who
came from Heaven to be our model, as in every other
virtue, so in the firet commandment which, according
to St. Paul, has a promise (Ephes. vi. 2), that of hon-
oring our parents ?

But now that Jesus has ascended to the Father, and
has dried up every tear from the eyes of His saints,
can we suppose that His sentiments have changed ia
her regard? For, my brethren, when you think of
Jesus sitting at the right hand of God, undoubtedly
you love to think of Him as clothed with all that can
render our human nature amiable: and as He has
borne with Him our flesh, and the very wounds that
pierced it, so you cannot doubt but He has raised so
high with Him the gentle and sweet affections of the
heart. We delight to think that whom He loved on
earth. He loveth also in Heaven ; to whom He showed
friendship here below. He denieth it not in His own
kingdom; with whom He contracted obligations in
the days of His flesh, He holds them good, and repays
them in this season of His glory. The more we can

flSft' VENERATION OF THE BLESSED VHIQIN. ,

assimilate Him in our minds to what He was here be-
low the more we can divest Hira of the brightness of
His'glorified state, the more easily and closely we can
unite ourselves to Him in pure aud simple affection.
Shall we then see Him thus preserving every other
virtuous and amiable feeling, and making chanty
—that is, love— the all-absorbing essence of bliss m
Heaven, and consequently Himself a fathomless abyss
thereof, and yet bring ourselves even remotely to
suspect that He has despoiled Himself of that feehng
which Nature plants the first, and never again up-
roots— the bud at once and the firmest stem of our
affections; to suppose that He still shows Himself a
generous benefactor, a kind master, and a faithful
friend, and yet wishes not to be considered as display-
ing the feelings of an affectionate son? Away from
us such cruel thoughts I

Then, on the other hand, can we believe Him such,
and yet imagine that He wishes not others to love
and respect, and that, too, with outward demonstra-
tions, her whom He himself loves and cherishes ? For
what said king Assuerus, when he wished to express
his esteem for Mardochai, who had saved his life?
Why, he ordered him to be mounteu on his best
horse, clothed in royal robes, and wearing the diadem,
and so to proceed through the public places, while the
firet noblemen of the land should make proclamation
saying: "thus shall he be honored whom the king
wisheth- to honor." (Est. vi. 7.) And I would ap-
peal to you all, or rather to Nature speaking in your
bosoms; to you who are parents, whether you would
esteem filial love perfect in your child, if, when raised

■ ..lllKIWMil

MtM

l«W8Bl»lillllll»'lliilillllllWII

IT. .

as here be-
igbtness of
ely we can
B affection,
very other
ng charity
of blis8 in
ml ess abyss
emotely to
that feeling
' Again up-
tein of our
} Himself a
1 a faithful
1 as display-
Away from

e Him such,
tiers to love
I demonstra-
irishes? For
d to express
red his life?
on his best
> the diadem,
369, while the
proclamation
om the king
I would ap-
king in your
3r you would
', when raised

VENERATION OF TIIE BLESSED VIRGIN.

337

to some high dignity, he grudged you every participa^
tion in the honor he received, and sternly forbade
men to consider as his mother, or express their love
and respect towards her who had borne much for him,
in the days of his lowly estate ; to you who are chil-
dren, if you would envy that dignity which imposed
upon you the hai-sh condition of renouncing your
natural affections, and disowning such a parent ?

Nay, I will even assert, that never is our love for
Jesus so feelingly excited, as when we contemplate
Him in conjunction with His blessed Mother. Never
has the eye of art seen Him so amiable, never do our
hearts so warm to Him, and feel so familiarized with
Him, as when He is represented to us a lovely infant
reposing in the arms of His Virgin Mother ; never do
we so feel what He underwent, how He bled, and how
died for our redemption, as when we gaze upon His
pale and bloodless corpse, laid upon the lap of His
heart-broken Mother, and read in her countenance, a
grief such as all the world else could not contain, the
only measure which earth could give of the sufferings
He endured for our salvation.

If, then, any one shall accuse me of wasting upon
the Mother of my Saviour, feelings and affections
which He hath jealously reserved for Himself, I will
appeal from the charge to His judgment, and lay the
cause before Him, at any stage of His blessed life. I
will go unto Him at the crib of Bethlehem, and ac-
knowledge that, while, with the Kings of the East, I
hi:,ve presented to him all my gold and frankincense
and myrrh, I have ventured, with the shepherds, to
present an humbler oblation of respect to her who

838

VENEBATION OF THE DLESrlEU VIRGIN.

was enduring the winter's frost in on unsheltered
stable, entirely for His sake. Or I will meet Ilim, as
the holy fugitives repose on their desert-path to
Egypt, and confess that, knowing from the exanaple
of Agar, how a mother cast forth, from her house into
the wilderness, for her infant's sake, only loves it the
more, and needs an angel to comfort her in her an-
guish (Gen. xxi. 17), 1 have not restrained my eyes
from her whose fatigues and pain were a hundred-fold
increased by His, when I have sympathized with Him
in this His early flight, endured for my sins. Or I
will approach a more awfal tribunal, and step to the
foot of His cross, and own to Him, that while I have
adored His wounds, and stirred up in my breast my
deepest feelings of grief and commiseration for what I
have made Him suflfer, my thoughts could not refrain
from sometimes glancing towards her whom 1 saw
resignedly standing at His feet, and sharing His sor-
rows ; and that, knowing how much Respha endured
while sitting opposite to her children justly crucified
by command of God (2 Kings, xxi. 10), I had felt far
greater compassion for her, and had not withheld the
emotions, which Nature itself dictated, of love, and
veneration, and devout affection towards her. And
to the judgment of such a Son I will gladly bow, and
His meek mouth shall speak my sentence, and I
will not fear it. For I have already heard it from the
cross, addressed to me, to you, to all, as He said :
" Woman, behold thy son ;" and again : " Behold thy
mother." (John, xix. 26, 27.)

It is, indeed, remarkable, my brethren, how com-
pletely that motherhood of the Blessed Virgin, which

' ?J laf »'ia«anii ' vn luw

IV.

malieltered
)et Ilim, M
3rt-path to
le example

house iuto
loves it tbe

in her an*
3d my eyes
and red-fold
i with Him
sins. Or I

step to the
irhile I have
7 breast my
I for what I
. not refrain
hom I saw
ing Ilia sor-
)ha endured
tly crucified

had felt far
withheld the
)f love, and
) her. And
lly bow, and
ence, and I
1 it from the
[IS He said:

Behold thy

how coiu-
T^irgin, which

VENERATION OP THE BLESSED A'IROIN.

339

the woman in my text so loudly blessed, has been de-
lineated in the Gospel. Almost ail the other persons
connected with our Saviour's history undergo extraor-
dinary changes. John the Baptist, from the solitary
anchorite in the wilderness, becomes the herald of the
Messias, the baptizer of Isi'tiel, the reprover of Phari-
sees and even of Kings. Magdalen fii-st appoara as the
woman tenanted by evil spirits (Mark, xvi. 9), and is
soon changed into an ardent follower and dauntless
servant of Jesus. The apostles begin as fishermen
and publicans, to be transformed into workers of signs
and miracles, even before their Master's passion. But
Mary never appears in any character but that of a
mother, solicitous and suffering only for her Son. She
is first seen receiving the heavenly messenger, and,
according to his promise, conceiving and bearing the
eternal Word made flesh for man's redemption ; and
soon becomes an object of persecution to His enemies,
80 as to be compelled to abandon her native land?
Amidst the flattering and glorious scenes that surround
her at His birth, we find it simply recorded of her by
St. Luke, that " Maiy kept all these words, pondering
in her heart." (Luke, ii. 19.) After this did God re-
veal to her through holy Simeon, the piercing grief
which, as a sword, should pass through her soul.
(Luke, ii. 35.) We meet her not again till twelve
year later, the solicitous mother wandering about the
streets of Jerusalem, seeking her lost Son, sorrowing.
And when she has found Him, and undei-stands not
perfectly the deep mysterious answer that He makes
her, we have the same description of her conduct,
which in one stroke sketches her mild, unobtrusive

840 VKNEIUnON OF THE DLBJSKD VIROIN.

character, that "His Mother kept all these things
in her h;art." (Luke, ii. 51.) After th.. we have
total silence in her regard, during eighteen yeai^ of a
life the most blessed which -an be conceived upon
earth, under the same roof with the Son of God ; U
she cLes forward once more to initm e Him into His
public life, by inducing Him to work his first rmracle,
at Cana. Through the three yea.i. of his wonderful pub-
lie ministry, while all Judea rang with his praises, while
crowds piiLsed round him to be .ea ed, while priests
and Pharisees and doctors of the ^^w listened with
respect to His doctrines, and men would have set the
ro^Jal crown upon His head-she takes no part in His
triumphs and His fame: and only once approaches
Him, in tender solicitude, to call Him from the house
where He was surrounded by the multitude. (Matt.

• • Art \

''"fiut so soon as we come to the last perilous trial
when disciples have fied, and apostl*^ have denied
Him; when friends have abandoned Him, and Tela-
tions are ashamed of kindred with Him; when He is
surrounded by a ruffianly mob, whose brutality seems
equal to any outrage; when He is hedged round by
the cruel array of soldiers and executioners, to may
she, the mild, retired maid of Nazareth, but stil the
mother, be seen pressing through every obstac e to
share in His sufferings, and catch His dying breath.

This, then, is the only character in which it is meant
that we should know her, as the Mother of Jesus. And
are not we the brethren of Jesus ? Did not He Him-
self assure us so much ; did not St. Paul, did not S .
John, repeat' the same consoling doctrine? (Matt.

•-saaaaM

ttmif

ese tilings
H we havo
yeare of a
•ived upon
f Goa ; till
im into His
rst niiiacle,
iderful pub-
raises, while
bile priests,
3tened with
lave set the
part in His
approaches
Qi the house
ide. (Matt.

erilous trial,
bave denied
m, and rela-
wben He is
itality seems
jd round by
jrs, tJien may
but still the
r obstacle to
ing breath,
ch it is meant
>f Jesus. And
not He Hini-
, did not St.
,rine? (Matt.

FENERATION OF TlIK BLESSED VIROIN.

841

xxviii. 10; Rom. viii. 17; 1 John, iii. 1, 2.) And to
us, m^ brethren, who believe that every tie which con-
nectiMl us with Him on earth is not broken, but strength-
ened in Heaven ; who believe that a holy union»doe8
exist between those who upon earth are fighting for
their crown, and those who in Heaven have received
it already ; who believe that every claim we can make
to the interest and intercession of those who have
reached the goal is gladly acknowledged and made
good — to us who so believe, yea, and who so feel, this
is not matter of vain boast or empty parade. For, if
such is our faith, this title which we have received has
gained a mother for us in Heaven, who will often
plead in our behalf. And in truth, if in life she suf-
fered much, it may really be said that she suffered it
for our sakes. By which I do not, of couree, mean to
say, that what she or any other mortal underwent,
could, in the least measure, contribute to the mighty
work of our redemption, or allay, even in small degree,
the enkindled wrath of God ; but it is true no less,
that whatever she bore was from deep sympathy in the
painful work of our salvation : that the blows of the
hammer which drove deep the nails into her Son's
feet and hands, drove deep the sword, too, which
holy Simeon had placed against her bosom ; and those
blows did our sins heavily strike ; that the drops of
blood drained from His sacred head by the thorny
crown were told by her in so many bitter tears — and
that it was loe who, as with the reed of our fickle
affections, ' ;at that crown deep into His meek fore-
head ; that His last gasp was fearfully echoed in her
wild heart, now hollowed of all that had cheered and

S4S

VINERATION OF THE UI.JiWKD VIK«IN.

■treogthenod it ; and that gasp was forced oat hy atir
transgressions: in (ine, that through our iniquities she
was made homeless, and friendless and childless. And
what other mother ever lost such a Son I Thus may
we say, that if we have been made her children, in
much pain, and with smarting pangii, she hath borne
us. While, therefore, with the devout woman in tho
Gospel, wo pronounce her blessed, because she was
the Mother of our Redeemer, it is not with prejudice
to our strivings after salvation, nor to the neglect of
our present advantages ; it is, on the contrary, that we
nay calculate so much the more justly and nicely, the
advantages which her blessedness, as Mother of God,
may bring us. And the first of these we have now
seen ; that is, the close bond with which it knitted us
to her, and the powerful interest in our salvation
which the establishment of that bond hath given her.
Next to this, we may well ponder on the weight of
her intercession. For, if the saints io. Heaven have
golden vials given them, as we are told in the Apoca>
lypse, filled with our prayers, as with sweet odors,
which they pour out before the throne of God ( Ap< i.
V. 8), with what fragrance must those be endowed
which are shed fi*om heral For, inasmuch as her dig-
nity of Mother of God raised her, upon earth, above
every order and degree in the human race, so likewise
in Heaven must she preserve the same elevation, be-
yond all competition. And, if the word of God has
told us that Jesus, ascended into Heaven, has prepared
corresponding emblems of reward for every state of
holiness, golden harps for the patriarchs, and robes of
whiteness for the virgins, and palms for the martyrs,

ai<inMi

MRMM

ns.

oak hy o»r
iquities nhe
I less. And

Thu8 nmy
children, in
lath borne
nan in tho
BO she wan
a prejudice
I neglect of
iry, that we
, nicely, the
ler of God,
a have now

knitted us
r salvation
I given her.
9 weight of
saven have
the Apoca*
veet odors,
3od (Ap< ?.
e endowed
as her dig-
arth, above
80 likewise
evation, be-
>f God has
as prepared
3ry state of
id robes of
le martyrs,

VENERATION OK TUB HLKSHKD VIR(JIN.

848

and seats of jndgmont for the apostles, and crownn of
glory for all that love Hiiti, by what etnbleni shall we
describe the reward which must have been bestowed
npon her, who closed tho line of patriarchal holiness,
forming, as it were, tho wall of separation between the
two covenants, who, though a mother, was pure so as
no virgin else was ever pure ; whose niartynlom of in-
ward grief was deemed by the Spirit of Ood fit mat-
ter of holy prophecy ; who, with the apostles, received
the unction of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost, and who
alone of all mankind could say that she loved Jesua
with a mother^s love I

This thought, united to our former consideration,
gives a powerful motive of confidence in her interces-
sion. Not that we believe that any created being can
bestow upon us grace, or aught that can tend to our
justification ; but, believing that those in Heaven join
their supplications with ours, and that He who so
often had compassion upon His people on account of
His servants, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, will often
regard their prayers when ours are not suflBciently
powerful to nove Him, we have here Btrong and con-
soling grounds, much to rely on the love and influence
of His blessed mother.

Lastly, I will say that the consideration of her bless-
edness may be rendered useful to us in the cause of
our salvation, if it be a means of attracting our affec-
tions and devotion towards our heavenly country. All
that can, without diminishing <wir duty to God, draw
upwards our feelings towards Heaven, must be salutary
and good. The child that should long for its bliss be-
cause, next to the enjoyment of the divine Presence,

sWBismsww

Hii

844 VBMIBATION OF TUB BLBMKD VIKOIW.

he looks forward to a reunion with ft lo«t parent, will
not surely be chid by the utemest bigotry, o» indulging
in an unworthy desire. And if we, moved by the con-
•iderations I havo rehearsed, feel our hearts warmed
with an atfectionato devotion towards one who has
so many claims upon it, and And that such devotion,
Always subordinate, and fur inferior to our love for
God, is powerful in sunimoniug up feelings of ttnuler
•motion, which, on other occasionH, we do not experi-
ence, believe me, it must be right and wholesome for
you to indulge it. In Catholic countries, you might
tee the poor and afflicted crowding round some altar,
where their pious confidence or experience of past
favore leads them to hope that their prayeis will best
be heard through the intercession of our dear lady ;
and you would mark their countenances glowing, and
their eyes raised upward, and, perhaps, streaming
with tears ; and would be struck with the heavinga of
their bosoms, and the eager whisperings of their
prayer, and the deep sobs that escapo them. Then,
perhaps, some stranger who knew them not, would
scornfully remark to you, as Heli did concerning Aui.a
(1 Kings, i. 14), that those poor creatures are intoxi-
cated with a lying spirit of superetition, or even idol-
atry. But God hath looked into their simple hearts,
and judged far otherwise. Even if that confidence
which leads them to a particular spot be unfounded,
it has drawn from them such deep-breathed sighs of
devotion as are elsewhere scarcely to be seen ; it has,
for a time, at least, driven the world and its follies
from their hearts, annihilnt<?d all thoughts of earth
within their souls, and raised them upon wings of love

■**

)arent, will
s indulging
by th« con-
•ts wftrniod
e who liM
I devotion,
ir love for
i of ttauler
not experi*
jlesomo for
you might
8om« altar,
nee of pa8t
IS will b«8t
dear lady;
lowing, and
I, streaming

heaving** of
g8 of their
lem. Then,

not, would
erning Aui.a
I are intoxi<
>r even idol-
mple beartu,
it confidence
e unfounded,
hed sighs of
seen ; it baft,
id its follies
;ht8 of earth
wings of love

VEffKKATION O^ TIIK PLKSMm VIROIV.

Mii

towar<U Heaven, into the company of saint* who we
Goil, there to make interest with her who is best by
Him beloved.

Oh, that the time had come when a similar expre*
aion ()f our devout feelings towards her should pub-
licly be made, and all should unite to show her that
honor, that revcrenco and lovo which she deserves
fiom all Christians, and which so long have lieen
denie<l her amongnt usl There was a time when
Knglnnd was second to no other country upon earth
in the discharge of thli duty ; and it will be only part
of the restoration of our good and glorious days of
old, to revive to the utmost this part of ancient niety.
Therefore do I feel HJucere joy at witnessinj^ the es-
tablishment of this excellent brotherhood, and its
public manifestation in this town this day, both as a
means of encouraging devotion and virtue, and as a
return to one of the vt nerable institutions of our fore-
fathers. Enter, then, fully into its spirit. Uii every
brother of this Holy Guild consider himself bound, by
a new tie, to the practice of all that his religion en-
joins, spontaneously engaged to display greater exact-
ness in the discharge of every duty, and to go before
othei-8 in observance of the Church's precepts : in fre-
quenting the sacrauients, in sobriety, honesty, industry,
docility, and quiet p aceful demeanor, both at home
and abroad. Remember that this day you have put
youi-selves and your families imder the protection of
the ever-blessed Mother of God i..id her chaste spouse,
St. Joseph,— -of those who were chosen by God to pro-
tect the infancy of Jesus from the dangei-s of a per-
secuting world. Entreat them to protect you and

840

VKMKttATlON or TIIK BLKMKD VIRGIN.

youn from the perils of » •educing «n«1 «niin»ring
world, to |)l«ad your int«re«t« in Heaven, and Bocure,
by tlj»nr intercwuion, your everlasting crown. Loudly
proclaim the pralseii of your heavenly queen, but at
the «arue time turn her jwwer to your everlasting od-
vantage by your earnott aupplicationi to her. And
this you cannot mo»o beautifully do than by that
prayer which your holy mother, the Church, taught
you to Hup itt infancy, and to recity after the Loril'i*
Prayer, wherein you solute Mary iu the angel's ond
Eliwibeth's word«, and conclude by OHking her prayer*,
both for your present uecessities, ond for the futr.re
but certain crisis which awaits us all. May »he, who
stood at the foot of the croes when her Son yielded
Hia meek spirit into the bonds of His eternal Father,
. — rvith him whose eyes were closed in peace by Hia
divine foster-ohild, — smooth your last bed of sorrow-
after having mode the road to it less burdensome and
dreary ! May they be your models, your patrons, and
your encourogera through life and its troubles, to be
one day your strengtheners and guardians under God,
in death and its terrors : that so they may bring yon
to Him who vouchsafed, for our sakes, to be called
' their Son t

fJU II J -

IN.

tmiiniinng

I. Liuilly
ten, but at
-Infltiiig ad*
her. And
n by that
cb, taught
tbo I^)rd'8
lugerH and
or pray«ni,

the futr.re
ly »A«, who
on yielded
nol Father,
ace by IIw

of sorrow*
msome and
matrons, and
iibleg, to be
under God,
f bring you
) be called

SERMON XVII.

Ht. Lokk, II. 51.
"And ho WM lol^act to them."

Bkneatii the roof of a church dedicated to the glo-
rious and evcr-blwwed Mother of Ood, whtjre from
every side shino down upon us the emblems of her
dignity, on a day on which is commemorated that
maternity* which communicated to her all her sub-
lime prerogatives ; in the presence of a faithful people,
who know how to love and to reverence her, it would
be contrary to every sentiment that inspires me, if I
spoke to you to-day upon any other subject than that
which the place, the time, and the attendance so nat-
urally suggest. It is not necessary for me to say any
thing to you who hear me in support of the Catholic
doctrine concerning devotion to the blessed Mother of
our Lord Jesus Christ ; it is not requisite that I should
even explain to you, as if you were an ignorant flock,
the nature of this devotion, its character, its conditions ;
nay, it is not expedient that I should try to recom-
mend that devotion, or endeavor to add any thing to

* The FeMt of the Maternity, kept in Ireland in kntooui.

348 ON THE MATERNITY OF TllE BLESSKD VIRGIN.

the fervor which I know animates the people of this
island, and this city in particular — the fervor of that
deep, most loving, most faithful affection towards her
whom they consider their patroness, their mother,
their best and truest friend, their intercessor, for ever
beside the throne of her Son. No, my brethren, it is
not for any of these purposes that I will address you,
but it is rather to give utterance to those sentiments
of corresponding love and devotion which form a tie
between us, as every bond of faith and piety ever
must. I will speak to you upon the only topic which
naturally comes to one's thoughts here ; and I am sure
that yoa would think I was wandering from what be-
longs to this day — that I was withholding from you
the food proper to this festival of Maiy, if I did not
endeavor to place before you such thoughts as, with
my inadequate powers, may show you how this festi-
val of the Maternity of the Blessed Virgin recalls to
us the illustrious virtues with which she was endowed,
and the sublime privileges with which she was in-
vested. We will simply go through a few passages of
her life, and consider her in her various relations with
her Son ; and see how we can trace these memorable
events that distinguished her in the world, that have
raised her to a place beside that throne of her Son in
Heaven, to her simple but glorious title of " Mother of
Jesus."

And fii-st, ray brethren, let us begin by contem-
plating her from the moment in which she verified the
words of the augel, and gave to the world the Incar-
tate Word. It is certain that if we look around on
earth for a type and representation of the best and

"I ! ^i 'j ;WtM8Mi ! a8WAWUI I WiBI!»^ M

?l*W!^^lf^

Rom.

ON niE SIATKUNITY OP TinS BLESSED VIRGIN. 349

plo of this
ror of that
wards her
ir mother,
)r, for ever
thren, it is
itlress you,
sentiments
form a tie
piety ever
opic which
1 I am sure
m what be-
r from you
' I did not
its as, with
V this festi-
n recalls to
is endowed,
(he was in-
passages of
iations with
memorable
1, that have
her Son in
" Mother of

by contem-
verified the
\ the Incar-
: aronnd on
ihe best and

purest possible affection ; if we look for love in its
utmost intensity, in its most unselfish simplicity, in its
sweetest tenderness, there at once arises to our minds
that natural affection which binds the mother to her
child. For that pledge of God's love she is ready to
sacrifice herself, forgetting every consideration; not
only will she sacrifice health and all the pleasures of
life, but life itself, if necessary ; and we cannot imagine
a being more ready > give her existence for another
than the mother who sees her child in danger, and
resolves at once to make herself an oblation for its
safety. So remarkable is this affection, that God has
beautifully chosen it as the representation of His own
love for man. He does not content Himself with say-
ing to us, » I am your father," notwithstanding all the
natural ties of affection the title suggests, but He
compares Himself to a mother, in His true love for
us. He could not give us any image more complete
to show the tenderness of His love for us, than by
comparing Himself not to a father, but to a mother :
*' Can a mother forget the child of her womb ? And
even if she should forget it, yet will I not forget thee."

{Is. xlix. 15.) •

Still, my brethren, perfect as is this love considered,
as the highest and holiest of earthly affections, there
must be, and there is, a love superior to it—far greater,
far higher — a love divine. The mother must love
God more than the infant, for which she is ready to
sacrifice herself. No virtuous, no pious, no devout
mother, but knows this, that rather must she lose her
child than lose her God ; and it is difficult to realisse
the magnitude of this love that transcends the love of

M.' i t.ft;*

it^ir^Mlia

i^fSS^SS^MWBSSSfSSSSSteSsS^

■WlJ^t^>->«^)•^■«fl J■^<-.t■■•.^ •

■mr

350 ON THE MATERNITY OP TllB BLESSED VIUOIN.

the mother for her child. There are times when, per-
haps, in her heart she reproaches herself with not
loving God as ehe loves her babe. Even the holiest
mother will confess that there is more emotion and
sensitiveness, and more practical devotedness in the
mother's love for her child than in any other ; and
that willingly would she love God in the same way
that she loves the object of her maternal affections ;
willingly would she feel ready to do or to suffer as
much for God as she does for the little object of her
tenderness. In danger, therefore, is even this mater-
nal love, of being carried to excess, so intense is its
nature. When the moment of real trial comes ; when
sickness strikes the child ; when, like David, she prays
and fasts for its life ; when she offers herself in ex-
change that the child be spared ; when the hour comes
that she sees this little dear one begin to pant, as its
breath gradually passes away, though she knows that
the transition is only from a life of darkness and
prospective misery to one of deathless life and infinite
happiness, still she regrets to part with that child for
her God, and for a short moment, perhaps, she re-
pines and sorrows. If, after a few instants of burstp
ing grief, she begins to reflect well, what are the
humble words that come first to her lips ? " Oh ! I
have loved that child too deeply ; I made it too much
the idol of my affections, and God has taken it to
Himself." We see, then, my brethren, that this love
of the mother, however beautiful, however natural,
however commended, and again and again inculcated
by the law of God, may become a dangerous affec-
tion, inasmuch as it may know no bounds, and pos*

WMhttUt

ii um ^ i'm i tf

. i»,«i^-iililft*>)tfi II

iRom.

when, per-
' with not
the holiest
lotion and
less in the
sther; and

same way
affections ;
;o suffer as
ject of her
ihis mater-
;euse is its
nes; when
I, she prays
self in ex-
bour comes
pant, as its
knows that
.'kness and
md infinite
it child for
ps, she re-
s of burst-
at are the
I "Oh! I
t too much
aken it to
,t this love
er natural,

inculcated
>rou8 affec*
9, and pos*

ON THE MATERNITY OF THE BLESSED MROIN. 351

sibly absorb all the divine love due to the Creator
and Giver of all things. This danger is illustrative
of the force and power of the mother's affection for
the child.

To only one being on earth — to only one of God's
creatures has it ever been, or will ever be granted,
tlmt this love could not be misplaced — could not be-
come excessive. For, by virtue of the maternity of
Mary, she was constituted the Mother of God ; and
there was no possible danger of her ever carrying the
maternal affections, I will not say into excess, but
even to the nearest approach of any thing that was
not pure and perfect, holy and most acceptable. The
caresses she lavished upon her child she lavished upon
God. Exercising the right of the mother, she embraced
her child, and it was God she embraced. Eveiy time
she administered to Him the nourishment which His
infancy was pleased to require, she was giving to the
incarnate God a part of herself, bestowing upon God
a gift which no other being was entitled or permitted
to confer. This union of the maternal love with the
divine love was indissoluble. The two branches of
charity growing in her were so completely intertwined,
that no power on earth or in Heaven could separate
the one from the other, or even for an instant disunite
them ; giving her, consequently, this singular preroga-
tive, that, taking the highest, the most pure and per-
fect standard of human love, she was privileged to
exercise it towards her God, so that it was impossible
by any effort of her virginal heart to love too much,
for she was loving God with all the power of a mother's
affection for her child, and was at the same time, ren-

mmtt^iiitimimam

. '

f ^

852 ON THE MATERNITY OF THE BLESSEC VIROIIf.

dering the love which others could only direct to the
creature, to her Creator.

Surely, then, my brethren, we have hero, referable
to the maternity of our dear and blessed lady, all that
constitutes at once, in this earthly love of the mother
for her child, and divine love of the creature for her
God, suintliness in its highest possible perfection.
What is the standard of holiness ? The love of God,
the observance of the first commandment : " love God
above all things ;" for those who thus love God, fulfil
the law. If, therefore, the love of God constitutes
the very form and substance of holiness, if to Mary
was given the privilege of loving with a fervor of love
that could belong to no other creature, if she could
love her God with all that intensity of affection the
highest that earth can furnish as the representation of
the most complete and perfect love, that of the mother
for her child, which was her relation to God ; she had
consequently communicated to her a character of love
incommunicable even to blessed spirits. And it was
this love of her God which raised Mary to the height
of holiness, and made her become the most precious
and the most beautiful of His saints.

Let us now dwell for a few moments upon the sec-
ond stage of the relations between the Blessed Virgin
and her Son, and see what character it bestows at once
upon her, different from that which belongs to any
other person. The gospel of this day, the words
which I have chosen from it for my text, give us at
once a clue to this. Our Lord has grown into that
period of life when a youth has a will of his own
which he may follow, and when he knows full well

$»<

.'IROIIf.

irect to the

•e, referable
idy, all that
the mother
ure for her

perfection,
ove of God,

" love God
e God, fulfil

constitutes

if to Mary
rvor of love
f she could
iffection the
jsentation of
■ the mother
od ; she had
icter of love
And it was
o the height
ost precious

pon the sec-
essed Virgin
(tows at once
3ng3 to any
■, the words
t, give us at
^n into that
. of his own
W8 full well

ON TIIE MATEUNrrr OF TUB BLlSaED VIRGIN. 353

his prerogatives. But He lived in Nazareth, subject
to Ills parents : " He was subject to them." You un-
derstand, of course, what that must mean. It follows
that from that time He obeyed any order given Him,
in that relation of parent and child. It does not mean
that in greater or more important things Ho con-
formed to the will of His mother and of Joseph, His
reputed father. The word " subject " signifies, as every
one well knows, that submission which is due from a
child to the parent, from the subject to his prince ;
which characterizes the servant in his bearing to him
who rules over him. It means the habit of constant
obedience, the observance of every behest, the readi-
ness in every time and every place at once to do what
is bidden ; it means the disposition of mind, and of
will, and of heart, to sacrifice a pei-sonal wish to
the will of another, to substitute another's will for
one's own. Such is what we undei-stand by these
■words ; and now let us see what is the depth of their
meaning. Our Lord is living familiarly at home, as
other children might live with their parents; He
works at a menial trade ; He is in that poor household
the attendant upon His mother. He is not called
Rabbi, or Master, or Lord, as afterwards He was. He
is still known by the name of His infancy— by the
dear name which the augel communicated to Mary —
by that sweet name of Jesus, which was always upon
the lips of His mother and of Joseph. He is called,
He is sent, He is commanded, or, command boing un-
necessary. He is desired to do whatever is needful for
that little household. As his reputed father advances
in years, and is approaching to his end, the obligations

^Um

854 ON TlIE MATERNITY OP THE BLEfiSED VIROIW.

assumed hy the blessed Youth, His industry, His sub-
missiou, His labors, only increase.

I have asked already, what does this iuaply ? Our
blessed Lord is God as well as man. As God, His holy
will is none other than that of His eternal Father,
with whom His union is so complete, that it is impos-
sible for Him, in any way, to have any will in contra-
diction to that of the Father. He cannot, however
slightly or imperceptibly, decline from the will of His
Father; for it is His own. No authority, no jurisdic-
tion, no command, can possibly induce Him to depart
in the smallest degree from that eternal will in which
He is Himself partaker, and which is His own divine
will, and in which there can never be otherwise than
full and perfect identity, not conformity, with the will
of God. Now, my dear brethren, when our Lord
obeys man, when He puts His will at the disposal of a
creature, it cannot be except on the condition of com-
plete certainty that there will be in every command
and in every desire that may be expressed to him a
perfect uniformity with the will of God. It must be
the same to Him to obey the will of Mary, as to obey
His divine Father; for, if the two are at vaiiance, He
must disobey the creature. Not only must this fact
of confonnity between the commands of the one and
the ^.'ill of the other be such, but it must have been
to the knowledge of God a certainty that it would be
always such. The fact of declaring that Jesus was
subject for eighteen ri> 5 ri4 to that blessed mother, at
once implies that He knew, during the eighteen years,
as during the yearr that preceded, that there would be
no discrepancy between the will of her and the will

VlROUf.

try, Hia iiub-

uaply ? Our
lod, His holy
rnal Father,
; it is impos-
rill in contra-
not, however
16 will of His
r, no jurisdic-
\m to depart
vill in which
I own divine
herwise than
with the will
en our Lord
I disposal of a
iition of coin-
ry command
ed to him a
It must be
ly, as to obey
vaiiance, He
lust this fact
the one and
at have been
t it would be
lat Jesus was
id mother, at
ighteen years,
liere would be
and the will

ON THE MATKUNrrV OF THE ULE88ED VIUOIN. ^rt!i

of His Father, with whom every act, every thought,
every breath of His must he in necessary unison.
Now, my brethren, we may desire to love God to the
extent of our power. Man may seek to the utmost to
do what pleases the Almighty ; and yet we know it
is impossible for him, in this world of imperfections
and temptations, always to be sure that his will and
his acts are in accordance with the will of God. On
the contrary, it is only after he has discovered the will
of God that he can truly say he has endeavoied
to follow it. It is a perpetual study, a constant cnre
and anxiety with liim, that whatever he does be con-
formable to God's will. We must endeavor, as it were,
to move in the same line or the same orbit, following
exactly, step by step, Him from whom alone we can
learn and derive that power of conformity to His will
in all things. The privilege and the blessing of know-
ing that they thus conform to Him is reserved for
those blessed spirits, the souls of the just made per-
fect, who live in God and in the eternal enjoyujent of
His presence, who cannot for a moment change in
their devotion to Him, or in their state of perfect uni-
formity with His will. This will be the happy lot of
man redeemed and saved, when the time of trial is
gone by, and when he can no longer follow his own
earthly desires. But to Mary, upon earth, was granted
this high prerogative of being in perfect conformity
in her own actions to the will of God. So complete
was this identity of sentiment, that the Son of God
Himself was able to obey her with the full certainty
that every command of hers, that every request of
hers, would be iu perfect and entire concord with the

■""* ' ' ' '"■•

856 ON THE MATERNITY OF TUB fllJiSSED VIROIN.

will of Ilis heavenly Father. And so every look of
Mftry was but the reflection of the *>-'e of God ; every
word that passed from her mouth was the echo of the
voice of God coming from His throne ; every com-
mand or wish she expressed, every impulse and eveiy
suggestion, harmonized with His. Beloved brethren,
what is the condition necessary for love ? The desire
of being in perf»>ct unity and harmony with the object
of affection ; and Mary can truly be paid to have pos-
sessed entire union of heart and soul with God, and
not alone in love, but in action and in word.

Is there yet a higher step which it is possible for
a human creature to aspire to, for bringing himself or
herself nearer to God ? There remains but one, and
it is that higher love and uniformity with God's will,
which naturally inspires the creature with a desire, if
possible, to co-operate with the Creator ; to be not
merely a material instrument, but truly a sharer in
His own work; to be choen to act in His name, and
to exercise power which emanating from Him, i» still
80 entrusted that it may be used with the freedom that
gives merit to its application. Do you not think that
the 8 ' pais in Heaven who see the face of the Father,
passing a blissful etei-nity in contemplation of Him,
esteem it a distinction to be still further deputed to
perform the will of God ? Do you not believe that the
guardian-angel, who is sent in charge of the least cast-
away amongst the children of men, the poor foundling
that is left to perish, considere himself invested with
a mission full of dignity, full of glory, because he is
thereby doing the will of God, carrying out His pur-
pose, the salvation of mankind ; or that when an illu*

mtmmi9mmmm<immm

VIRGIN.

irery look of

God ; every
echo of the

every cora-

se and eveiy

ed brethren,

The desire

ith the object

to have poa-
th God, and
)rd.

possible for
ig himself or
but one, and
h God's will,
th a desire, if
•; to be not
r a sharer in
'.\9 name, and

Him, i» still
freedom that
ot think that
f the Father,
tion of Him,
sr deputed to
lieve that the
the least cast-
oor foundling
invested with
because he is

out His pur-
when an illus*

OK TIIK MATKUNITY OF THE nHSSKD VIROIX. flAT

trioas angel like Gabriel, Rnphncl, or Michael, receives
a comnnssiun to bear some glad tidings to the world,
or perform some great work of divine dispensation, he
unfurls his wings with delight, leaves the itnmediHte
presence of God, which we imagine him locally to con*
template, but which never departs from him, and
proceeds gladly, whether it be to Daniel to expound
prophecy, or to Mary to bring the message of eternal
love, considering it the highest honor to be thus ena*
bled to assist in carrying out the glorious, the magnifi-
cent designs of God ? And what was the position of
those great men of the Old Liiw, commencing with
Moses and proceeding down to the Machabees, who
were ordained to become the chiefs of God's people,
to whose guidance and care was committed the carry-
ing out of His great mercies, who bore in their hands
the rod of His omnipotence, who carried in their
breasts the secrets of His wisdom ? Were they not
honored above all other men ? Did they not consider
it a glory to be thus entrusted with any great mission
of providential action ? There was too, my brethren,
in all this, some reward of honorable distinction for
those so engaged. The angels thus employed are dis-
tinguished amongst the heavenly ho^ts, and have spe-
cific names, recorded that we may single them out for
devotion ; and those who were so honored amongHt
the men of the Old Law, were thereby raised above
the rank of ordinary prophets, and became the heioes,
the great ones of the earlier dispensation.

But to take part in the work of God silently, un-
known, without reward from mankind, at least during
life, without those incentives which make men equal

»r>8 ON T1IK MATET5NITY OF TIIK BI.KSRKD VITWHW.

to A great and high niwslon in ♦ lie wovhl, that wm «
merit re«»"'v«Ml fnr li(»r, without vhone co-ojx-rutinu it
M haiu to Bay in whal atat« nmnkind vvouil have bijpn.
God wwi plewed that it sliouUl depend on her that the
givatest of mysteries should \m accomplished. He
gives her timo to deliberate; H** accords her permis-
sion to »ugg«8t difl3cuUies, to make her own terms,
that she shall not have to surrender the precious gift,
which she values higher than the highest imaginable
'of honors, so that it retiuires the assurance that to
QoiVn omnipotence even the union of the two preroga-
tives is possible, and that attribute is to be ex«rted
for her. And so it was not »r til she had said, ' Be-
hold the handmaid of the I^rd, be it done unco
me according to Thy word," that the great mystery
was accomplijhed.

And now pause for a moment. Here is the great--
est of God's works, not since the creation of the
world, but uuring the countless ages of His own ex-
istence, the Word incarnate, the Word mad" flesh.
Yet how singular is the part ot Mary in this myahry 1
She litters the words ; they scarcely full from her lij^s,
and she alone remains entrusted, not only with the
precious gift itself, but with the knowledge of it. No
one elsf *au have known it. Joseph himself ^as not
aware of it, till an angel revealed it to him. Allow
me now for an instant to deviate from the line which
I was pui-su'ng. I have addressed you as good and
faithful Catholics, believing what the Church teache*
you, and also as servants of Mary, feeling true devo-
tion towards her ; but I beg here to make a remark
which may, perhaps, be useful in convening with

rmofif.

, that wofl ft
oi)«-rutiuii it
1 have b*?eu.
her that the
lished. He
her pernii*-
own term«,
reciotw gift,
. iniAgiimble
inc« that to
wo j>reiogi»'
> be ex»*rted
d said, ' Be-
) done unco
eat mystery

is the great- ■
itiou of the
[lis own ex-
mad^ flesh,
bis mystery t
rom her lips,
)\y with the
je of it. No
istilf 'vas not
him. Allow
le line which
AS good and
urcli teaches
g tioe de vo-
ice a remark
versing with

0^f TIIK MATMINITT Ot TIIR MLXfUIKP VinoiK. ;i.''i9

others. Ix>ok at those men who, unhappily f.»r thp»i-
selvt's, know not, and undurHtanu nut, the prerogatives
of Mary; look, I will not sa) at , hoso more wretc*h( «l
men who have the hardihood, tho iiufeelingness, the
brutality to decry her, but to those who, in more re*
spectful terms, profess simply to overlook her. Just
see tho position in which ^uch pei-sons are placed, aa
to their belief. They say, "we cannot worship," as
they call it, "the Virgin Mary; we cannot honor her,
because in doing so we should be derogating from tho
honor due to her Son, t« tho Word incarnate, to Jesus
Christ." I would say to these men : How do you
know that Ho waa incarnate ? How do you know
that the Son of God became man ? You suy in your
creed that Ho was conceived of the Holy Ghost. Who
gave you evidence of that conception ? Gabriel did
not raanilest it He vanished as soon as he had de.
livered his message. You do not believe, no Protes-
tant bellt'ves, that the Bible is a simple revelation;
that is, a series of truths > .t known, and which c( Id
not be known by huran moans. The Evangelist*
themselves—the one fron? .h< a I have quoted — tells
us that " Mary laid up all these words in her heart,"
and that he sought information from those who knew
every thing from the beginning. Mary was the onlv,
^ sole witne^H in the world, to the mystery of the
incarnation. Ther.; was only her word that she con*
ceived thus miraculously ' * the Holy Ghost. .^ he told
it to the Apostles, and tiiey believed it, and recorded
it with the sanction of the Holy Spirit. The real
source of the historical and inspired testimony of tho
accomplishmeut o* the great mystery of the incarna-

■MKfSMa

-as-

800 ON TIIK MATEIINItY Ul' TIH MMlMKD VIRGIN.

tlon 'wMary; nnd th(w« who ivj«»of lioroonM not hft%«
mntui to h*<liev«», fxo'pt through her t«'«fiiuony, lluu
0<>(1 took upon Ilim our natun'. It i* through Ihm*
tluit tli«y kuuvv it; yt*t thoy pr«t«ntl tliat honor to hw
is at His «xp«nie. But iw it wiui with her co-operation
tliat this great mystery was wrouglit, so w/ta it rigut
tliat through hor it shouU! bo couununicatod.

Thu time at lengtli cam«i for the awful completion
of that eternal mysttuy of our redemption, which wns
to abtonish angeU and men. 'J'hen- was on« h*art in
which all that was to come was faithfully treasured—
hers who had listened to the wonderful and mysterious
words of the venerable old man that told her, in the
days of her motherly happiness, that the sword of
affliction would pierce her heart. Oh 1 she ha<l often,
no doubt, conversed on the painful topic with hor di-
vine Son. She knew too well what was the course He
had to run. She knew wherefore He had come into
the world, and how every breath of His was an act of
obedience to the will of God. She knew well that
He had bitter food, indeed, fo take, which was not
prepared for Him by her hands. She had lived, by
anticipation, in the suffering which naturally resulted
from this knowledge communicated to her; and she
well knew that the time was come when, at the last
passover with His disciples, He wns about to cut
aside this world, and enter into the kingdom of His
Fathor. Then did she know that another cup, be-
sides that of Hb paschal feast, was to be placed in
His hands, to be drained by Him to the dregs. She
knew that well— so well that it is hardly neceasary
even to have recouree to the pious tradition, that she

VllUilif.

OK TO* MATMUftrr or Tiii: iiLKiiMKD viRoirr. 3<U

il«1 not hh^ n
iiiiony, thaw
throu((h lit'i'
jonor to htir
co-operation
vAn It rig'iit

13(1.

completion
I, which wni
)no h«art in

treaiured—
il ntyHtorious
I her, in the
le sword of
le ha<l often,
with hor di-
le course He
d come iuto
vos an act of
!vv well that
lich was not
ftd lived, by
ally resulted
ler; and she
I, at the last
bout to cjwt
jdoni of His
her cup, be-
be placed in

dregs. She
Jly nece&sary
tion, that she

SAW !n A vision what paswd In the garden of Geth.
semani. But certain it is, that tie moni.ng dawn «aw
her hapten to her Hon, in order to carry out that con-
formity which «ihe bad pi-esorve " with the will of Ood
during the whole of her life; that conformity which
had been so great, that her Bon, in ol>edience to her
will, anticipated the time for the perfonnauce of Ilia
firwt miracle. It was right that this conformity should
at length be transmuted into a perfect unity, incapa-
ble of the slight»st separation ; and thai;, could only
tin done, tm it wna ttocompliahed on Calvary at the foot
of the cross.

My dear brethren, why waa Mary there t That
simple question in it« answer solves a great problem.
Why waa Mary thtre ? It was no part of the stiitfinoe
on Jesus, as if to increase or enhance the bitterness of
His death, that His Mother should stand by ; and it
never waa commanded in any nation, howevar barbae
rous, that the niother should be at the scaffold when
her son expiated what was, rightly or wrongly, impu-
ted to him as his guilt. It waa not compulsory ou
Mary to be at Calvary; she was not driven thei-e, nor
was it Tisual in her to seek publicity. She had fol*
lowed Him, indeed, through all His mission in Judea,
but she used to stand without, and the people who sur-
rounded Him would say, " Your mother and brethren
are outside." She did not claim the privileges of her
rank to be close to Him when he was disputing with
the Pharisees, or instructing multitudes. When He
went into a house to peiform His miracles, or to a
mountain to be trannflgured, He took Peter, James,
and John. We read not that Mary presumed to fol-

ritaMM

8G2 ON THE MATERNITY OF THE BLESSED VlUi IXf.

low Him, and exult in the mngniflcent exercise of His
divine power, or the manifestation of His heavenly
glory. No, she followed at a distance ; she kept near
Jesus, watching over Him. But she knew that it was
not her hour ; that it was not yet the time when her
parental duty was to be associated with her parental
rights. She had lived the whole of her life in retire*
ment, first in the Temple, then in the cottage at Naza-
reth. And she, who naturally shrunk from the assem-
blies of men, came forth at the time most trying to
her feelings, to be present at the execution, the brutal
execution, of her Son, in that form of suffering which
was most revolting, and most fiercely rending of her
tender heart. Mary came forth to witness the death —
of whom ? Of her only, beloved Son, of her only child,
whom she remembered once an infant in her arms.
She will draw nigh to see those hands cruelly pierced
which she had so often pressed to her lips ; she will
stand by to see that noble, that divine countenance —
the first loot from whose eyes beamed upon her, the
fii-st smile of whose lips shone upon her heart — be-
dewed with blood, streaming from the thorny crown ;
to see Him still bearing the marks of having been
beaten, and buffeted, and defiled by spittle, and
mocked by His persecutors. She came to seek Him at
the hour of this suffering. And why ? Because the
heart of the Mother must be near that of the Son, in
order that they may be both struck together, and so
endure most perfect union of suffering, that she may
be said truly to co-operate, in sympathy, with the di-
vine work of salvation.
Suppose, my brethren, yon have two masses of un-

#■

«ti

rcise of His
is heavenly
e kept near
that it waa
J when her
er parental
'e in retire*
ge at Naza-
n the assem-
; trying to
1, the brutal
iring which
ling of her
the death —
r only child,
I her arms.
>lly pierced
s; she will
intenance —
m her, the
heart — be-
my cro\7n ;
aving been
pittle, and
)eek Him at
because the
the Son, in
her, and so
it she may
rith the di»

iHses of un^^

ON TIIK MATERNmr OF TIIK BLKSSED VIRGIN. 868

alloyed gold. Let the one be heavier than the other,
of incomparably greater value, more beautiful in its
color, more pure in its substance, and in every way
more precious from a thousand associations. Let the
other be also indeed of great pi-ice, though very infe-
rior to it. What will you do that they may become
only one? Cast them into the same crucible, heat
them in the same furnace, and they will melt into one,
80 that you may not separate them again. What a
furnace of affliction, what a crucible of torture and
of anguish was that, in which the two hearts of Jesu?
and Mary were fused in that hour on Calvary ! And
could it have been possible that there should arise a
difference of thought, of feeling, even of deaire between
the two ? Could it have been possible to unravel then:,
having lost every other thought, every other idea, in
the predominant one of accomplishing the great sacri-
fice which God had appointed for the salvation of man ?

As musical chords, when in perfect harmony, will
80 sympathize, that if one is struck its vibrations will
be communicated to the other, and agitate it in strict
accord, so did the fibres of those two most blessed
hearts, agreeing so justly in tone, utter the same sweet
strain of patient love ; and every pang and throb of
one was faithfully repeated in the other.

Then this conformity went further still. In that
most solemn hour Jesus formally recognized Mary as
His Mother, as He proclaimed God to be His Father.
What could she aspire to but imitation, however im-
perfect, of what the Heavenly Father was accomplish-
ing in His well-beloved Son ? Then, as she knew that
the Eternal Father was surrendering Jlim to sacrifice

::i;wj ' i '"

iiiw i tt i iw i

864 ON THE MATKRNITY OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.

and to death out of love for man, could she do less
than surrender Him too ? And she ia come hither for
this very purpose. Therefore does she stand at the
foot of the cross, that for lost man she may make a
public and willing sacrifice of all that is dear to her
on earth. Only she, His Mother, can thus put heraelf
into strict uniformin with Hi^ Almighty Father. As
she acceptfl<i Him at His incarnation, she yielded Him
at His death, saying : '' The Lord giveth and the Lord
taketh away ; blessed and fully accomplished ever be
the will of God.^ Yes, although it may wring her
maternal bosom, and drive the sword of affliction deep
into her loving heart, even to its inmost core. Thus
it is she became a coH)perator, as far as possible, with
God in His great work; she became the priestess on
the part of all mankind, who was allowed to accom-
plish the holocaust, which was considered too difficult
and painful for Father Abraham, the sacrifice of a be-
loved child. While we know that Jesus Christ is
alone the high-priest and tht victim to His Father, we
do not derogate from the infinite majesty, efficacy, and
sublimity of the oblation of the Lamb upon our altars,
by believing that He permits us. His unworthy priests,
to be in a certain degree His coadjutoi-s in the work,
not in any way increasing its efficacy by aught that
we can do, but still, standing as it were at His side,
His ministers soliciting and producing the divine ac-
tion, without which nothing that we can do would
take effect. In some such manner it may be said that
Mary, loving God as no other creature ever loved
Him, loving in conformity with his divine will, in a
way never granted to any other being on earth, at

'M M II HI

she do less
e hither for
:and at the
nay make a

dear to her
I put hereelf
L^'ather. As
yielded Him
nd the Lord
ihed ever be
1 wring her
Bictiou deep
core. Thus
ossible, with

priestess on
ed to accom-
i too difficult
'ifice of a be-
1U8 Christ is
is Father, we
, efficacy, and
on our altars,
orthy piiests,

in the work,
y aught that

at His side,
)he divine ac-
an do would
J be said that
e ever loved
due will, in a

on earth, at

ON THE MATERNITY OF THE BLESSED VIROTN. 865

length reached that which must be the very consum-
mation of the desire of love, that of acting, working,
and suflFering with God ; taking part, so far as human
infirmity can do, in the accomplishment of His sublime
and glorious work of redemption.

My brethren, I am sure that many of your hearts
have been suggesting, that this maternity of Mary ex-
tends beyond one dear Son; and you ask, are not
we her children ? Do we not commemorate, this day,
her kind, affectionate, and efficacious relationship with
us of a mother to her children ? I need not tell you
that, when the two sacred hearts of Jesus and Maiy
were so melted together in affliction as that they could
not be separated, that was the hour in which the fully-
recognized brotherhood between Jesus and us was es-
tablished. The relationship which commenced with
the incarnation, caused us to become His brothers
truly, and Mary consequently to become our mother ;
but His parched and quivering lips, just before He ut-
tered His last cry upon the crop-?, proclaimed this kin-
dred, and bade her receive from John his love as from
a child, and John to receive hers as of a mother. We
accept these words in their fullest sense. We take
our place willingly with the beloved disciple without
fear of being rejected, aud gladly send up our prayera
to Mary for intercession, as our mother sitting on her
throne in Heaven. We cannot place her in the ranks
of other saints who are partaking of bliss with Him.
There are amongst th^m, no doubt, those to whom we
owe special devotion, those who are the pati'ons
of our country, those who planted and defended its
faith, who were celebrated for having honored it,

jtfjiBMy .. ; 'tff ' tt i w.jagw y i B.< !Wjaw ^ - ' f^ \ ^^t^,v^^^-

vr-?Tr^:3BSWSa..'l!Wk.S;'- i-?' '^'*-

866 ON THE MATERNITY OF THE BLK88ED VIRttlN.

ftnd, Still irore, blessed it. There are also there our
guardian angels, with the mighty host of blessed
spirits that we know to be ministering before the
throne of God. Yet, not with the honor that we pay,
or the prayera which v ^ address, to any of this glori-
ous array of saints and angels, can we classify the
deeper devotion, the more fervent supplications, still
lees the filial duty which we owe the Mother of God.
We speak to them as saints, as faithful sei-vants of the
Lord, as our friends who have preceded us to glory,
and can assist us there; but to none can we use
the words which we can apply to Mary ; to none can
we speak as a child to its mother ; with none other can
we establish our claim to the patronage, care and love,
which, as chilf'ren of a common mother, every day and
every night, we are at liberty to demand from Mary.
Even as Solomon, when his mother *vas announced,
rose and bowed to her, and placed her at his right
hand on a throne before all others, so is Maiy placed
between the heavenly host and her Son. And so,
when we think of her, w-a may lift our minds and
thoughts to her as to one adorning Heaven, its second
brilliant luminary, shining next to its Sun, and above
the highest ranks of the blessed hosts. And why ?
Because she is the Mother of God. Her maternity
has bestowed upon her that which, after all, is the
completion of her love. Her love is perfect, her con-
formity is rendered eternal, and her co-operation with
Jesus perennial, in the constant flow ^>£ her kindness
to us, in her perpetual representing of our wants to
her divine Son, in her faithful intercession for us all,
conBist^ntly with her singular prerogative as the Mo-

VIRGIN.

o there our
of blessed
before the
that we pay,
f this glori-
classify the
cations, still
lei* of God.
vants of the
IS to glory,
tan we use
bo none can
ne other can
ire and love,
ery day and
from Mary,
announced,
it his right
[aiy placed
I. And so,
minds and
), its second
and above
And why ?
r maternity
p all, is the
KJt, her con-
ration with
er kindness
r wants to
for us all,
as the Mo-

on TUK MATEUNITY OF THE BLESSED VIUOIN. 367

ther of God. Then, beloved brethren, relax not in
your affection to her.

Mind not more than you do the winds that fly past
you, words which you may hear in disparagement of
this most beautiful devotion, as if tlie worship uf our
divine Lord suffered from devotion to her. Pray fre-
quently to her in your necessities, in your wants, in
your trials, personal or domestic, f.ad feel sure that
she will attend to your petitions. Be assured that
the link which bound Him to her on earth, and con-
tinues to unite Him to her in Heaven, also binds
us to her ; so that in Jesus and Mary we may place
our confidence, and our hope, in the end, of eteraal
bliss.

B«i

il I II I ■» . 1 1

l.iL.,.Ul I .L'I BIWPtWWWW

APPENDIX.

PASTORALS ON DEVOTION

THE SACRED HEART OP JESUS CHRIST,

IN CONNECTION WITH EDUCATION.

No. I.
(Dtt the MtttA %mt

An estabibbt'd nwage requires us to solicit your
charity, for the -docafcion of our poor ; and we hardly
know how we could more effectually appeal to it,
than through those motives which the festival where-
on we address you especially presents us, in the inex-
haustible charity that is centered in the Sacred Heart

of Jesus.

This festival forms the close of that series which,
commencing with Christmas, has crowded into less
than half the year, the commemoration of our dear
Lord's life, death, and glory. And how appropria,te-
ly ! We saw Him born into the world of sin, which
He came to redeem, and in every circumstance which

mmti

870

ON THE SACRED IIKAKT.

preceded, aroompRnied, or followed that wondpiful
advent, we read additional pioof» of the love which
canned it. Then shortly, almost suddenly, we found
ourselves hurried into the naidst of sorrowful scenes,
where agony instead of smiles, blows in place of naa-
ternal caresses, a cross for a cradle, gall and vinegar
instead of virginal milk, eyes closed in death instead
of their first radiant opening to life, gave evidence of
the same love, to the t.*.me man, from the same Incar-
nate God. And even death changed into life once
more, and ignominy into honor, and earth exchanged
for Heaven, with man's welfare for sole motive, were
only additional demonstrations of the same divine
charity for us. After passing through this couree of
festivals, which followed our blessed Saviour to Heaven,
and thence received from Him His holy Spirit, we
gathered together once more to feast upon the inheri*
tance which he had left behind. It was a banquet
spread with every deliciousness, filled to overflowing
with every grace ; there was the Bread of Life, the
Manna of Angels' Lord : there was the Cup of saiva-
tioa ; the Wine which cheereth the heart of man ;
there was the concealed Divinity of Bethlehem, there
the real sacrifice of Calvary, there the same glorified
Flesh which rose, ascended, and sits at the right hand
of God. All the mysteries by which we were ran-
Bomed, saved, and brought to Him, were there united
in wonderful truth and living reality.

What love for man I What tenderness of charity !
what unselfish devotion to his interests I May we not
seek out its source ? Shall, we not drink there to the
full, drawing water with joy from the fountain of our

ty^fiSssifSVi''**^''^

EriB

OW Tni: » ACRED HKART.

wondpiful
love which
f, we found
vful scenes,
>lace of raa-
and vinegar
ath instead
evidence of
same Incar-

life once
exchanged

lotive, were
arae divine
is courae of
[• to Heaven,
y Spirit, we

1 the inheri-
s a banquet
overflowing
of Life, the
up of saivar
rt of roan ;
ehem, there
ne glorified
I right hand
e were ran*
there united

of charity I
May we not
there to the
itain of our

Saviour ? (Isai. xiii. 3.) IIow inexhaustible must be
its supply of mercy and grace ! Where, then, dearly
beloved in Christ, is it to be found ? It is the Hem t
of Jesus, that contains, and sends forth perennially, this
rich abundenco ; filling the pure vessel itself with
sweetness, and thence flowing in an unfailing itream,
stronger than the tonent of Cedron (2 Chron. xxx.
14), brighter than the rivers of Damascus (4 Reg. v.
12)! more cleansing than the w.. ors of Siloe (Jo. i.x.
7), and holier than the stream of Jordan. (Mar. i.
9.) To come not only to see, but to taste also, how
iweet is the I/>rd, we are invited by Himself (Ps.
xxxiii. 9) : and we will draw nigh with Thomas, not
unbelieving, nor doubting, but full of faith, of con-
fldence, and of love, and, instead of touching with our
hands the open floodgate whence flowed this munda-
lion of tenderness, we will reverently drink of it, till

our souls are filled.

For, what tongue can describe the treasures which
issue thence, to enrich our poverty, as well as to slake
our thirst? One only, dearly beloved children ; His,
who has given us the measure whereby the depths of
His own Heart can be fathomed, and its various gifte
duly valued. When He said to us, thai, " out of the
abundance of the Heart the mouth speaketh" (Matt,
xii 84), He at once suggested to us how we may judge
of the emotions and impulses of His own blessed
Heart. In Him there was no deceit, no double heart
(Ps. xi. 8, in corde et corde locuti sunt. Ecdi. i. 86,
duplici corde) ; but all was sincere and plain and just
in Him. Then out of His Heart He uttered Hw
words (Job, viii. 10, loquuntur de corde); and they

-iW

8*72

ON THE UACRKD ilEART.

are bnt the overflow f>f the abandancM treaaui-ed th< re.
From IlissecK (I lip« you d'siceini to Hi« blesMd Iloarti
and you cannot be tlec«?ivfNl

Then, when He flwt app<'ftr« on earth, Ho Hpoaks
those few b'H pregnant words: "Behead, I come."
(Pi. nx\x. 1 ; Ihh. X. 7, 9.) They were the utter-
ance, not of the lip«, but of the heart ; they were ex-
pressed by the first breath that pa seil inarticuhUe
from His humanity, unheard ivon by the attentive ear
of Maiy, which conveyed thus early to her ininacu-
late heart whatever proceeded from His. (Luc. ii. 19,
61.) To the woi d which hates me, those words say,
to u people that know^ me not, to a generation obsti-
nate and hardhearted ; to eai ^h, m king with sin de-
testable to me ; to creation, perverted from all its
beautiful ends and enslaved to the devil ; to a barren
desert compared with my Paradise above ; to a dismal
land, overspread with the darkness of sin and the
8ha<low of death; to direst poverty, distress, cold,
hunger, and toil; to contradiction, ingratitude, scorn,
and calumny; to disappointment, abandonment,
treachery, and denial; to ignominy, pain, anguish,
and agony; to buflfets, scoui^es; to the cross, and
death— O man I for tliy sake, " behold, I come." Will-
ingly, aeliberately, lovingly, the words are breathed
from that infant Heart, the first incense arising from
that living temple of divineat charity. And must not
that Heart have needs been full of mercy, full of pity,
aud full of kindness, to have given them utterance ?
Good measure, indeed, and well pressed down, shaken
together, and running over, was that charity, which,
in His very incarnation, was poured into His bosom.

ox Tn« •AtllKO nUAWT.

87 a

ui-ed th''*.
Med Iltorl,

H« epMlM

d, I corae.**
the uttfr-
y were ex-
innrticulnto
tteutive ear
er iinmacU'
Xuc ii. 19,
I words say,
iition obHti-
nth sin de-
rom all its
to a barren
to a dismal
in and the
stress, cold,
itude, scorn,
landonment,
in, anguish,
D cross, and
ome." Will-
re breathed
arising from
nd must not
full of pity,
L utterance?
>WD, shaken
krity, which,
His bosom.

ftoc ▼!. 88.) Vv'tm words Wgoi. that nverflow,
which ceMt-d u(» more, but, like the WHi^-rs of Jeruwi
km, whtob, issuing from the upper fountain, gMthertMl
to themselves as tht-y passed, those of the lower one,
and to ran on, h .11 increasing, till they became almost
a torrent ; so do these thoughts of charity take up in
thei -'Mivtut so nmny others, spoken nt every step of
our .... UedtMMUL. •* life on earth, till wo are ove^
powered by their str< njrth.

Whence proc ded lose wordi of compassion, in
which wi all hav. such a pai-t; "I have come to call
not the just, ^ut liuuei-s to repentance ; I am sent to
t1u» sheep that have pmshed of the house of Israel;
there is more joy in Heaven for one sinner that doth
penance, than for ninety-nine just that need not pen-
ance"? (Matt. ix. 18; x. 6; Luc. xv. 7). From what
source. came forth the words which He spoke to Zac-
cheus or to Matthew, the publicans, to the sinful
womr n brought before Him for judgment, to the par-
alytic dinner laid at His feet, to Magdalene of her own
accord prostrate there : words of gracious self invita-
tion, or of a generous call to apostleship ; words of
kind forgiveness of past sin, and encouragement to
persevere in grace ; words of most tender and soothing
pardon, full of charity, that filled even a Pharisee's
house with p. sweeter savor of that unknown virtue, than
did the broken alabaster-box of spikenard ? (Luc. xix.
5 ; Matt. ix. 9 ; Jo. viii. 11 ; Matt. ix. 2 ; Luc. vii. 48.)
Whence? do you ask? It was from that same gentle
and loving Heart, which, pure and holy itself, had
ample space enough in it to hold and embrace there,
even sinners, and the whole world of sin !

LiHiinWiiiirt tfmm

874

ON TIIK MACRKO liKAKT.

Front what houi'co came out thoiw wonderful wordii
of plMuiltig, •• Father, furgive them, for thoy koovr not
what they do;" or that iivreuteNt of forgiving reproofn,
" DiMit thott bt'tray tha Son of man with n kite 1" or
that mildtwt of just expoatulationa, " Many good works
have I done ; for of which of theae works do you stone
ni« ?" or that sweetest of rebukes, " if [[ have spoken]
well, why dost thou strike me?" or that almost ma-
ternal consolation, " weep not over me, ye daughters
of Jerusalem, but over yourselves and over your chil-
dren;" or, in fine, the eloquence of that silence, which
went to the heart more than words, ns He stood be-
fore the priests or Pilate ; and the mute power 'f that
look which spoke to the heart of Peter and made it
overflow in tears? (Luc. xxiii. 24; xxii. 48 ; Jo. x. 82;
xviii. 82; Luc. xxiii. 28; Matt. xxvi. SB; xxvii. 14;
Luc. xxii. 61.) Whence ? do you ask again ? Oh no I
Your own hearts tell you better than our words can
do, that all these and many other such words come
surging forth from, not a well-spring, but an ocean, of
love for man; for man the worthless, for man the
reprobate, that lies deep and wide, and ever heaving
in that most amiable Heart of Jesas. What an abun-
dance, indeed, and a superabundance of charity, waa
required, to give ti*uth and reality of feeling to such
words, so spoken ns they were 1

And whence, again, dearly beloved children in Christ,
eome such words as are constantly escaping those gen*
tie lips, for the encouragement and consolation of.
loving souls : " Come unto me all you that labor and
are heavy laden, and I will refresh you ;" as though
His own travails and burdens, the cross being one,

lorful words
i)y kuovr not
ing reproofii,
n kiMl" or
good works
[u you iton«
ave Hpoken]
almuit mA<
'e daughtera
ir your chil*
lenco, which
le Htood he-
ower f that
and made it
I; Jo. X. 82;
; xxvli. 14;
in? Oh no!
1" worda can
words come
an ocean, of
or man the
ver heaving
I at an abun-
shanty, was
ing to such

en in Christ,
g those gen*
Dsolation of.
at labor and
' as though
> being on«,

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

It* 1 2 8
»"

III 32

I.I

lis

(|4

i.25

1.4

I—
1.6

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

'^•N

-b

•^

^S'J*.

■^.i;*

23 WEST MAIN STREET
(716) 872-4503

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHIVI/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institui Canadian de micioreproductions historiques

ON TnU SACRlilD HEART.

876

were not enough for Him: or, "Learn of me, because
I am meek and humble of heart, and you shall find
rest to your souls ;" as if persecution and humiliation
gave Him joy, because they procured us peace : or, " I
am the good shepherd, I know my sheep and my sheep
know me" (Matt. xi. 28, 29 ; Jo. x. 14) ; as if forget-
ting that we have " all wandered aa sheep" (Isa. liii. 6 ;
Ps. cxviii. 176), and h&vo forgotten to follow Him our
Shepherd ; or, " Cannot you drink of the cup whereof
I shall drink" (Mar x. 38), making our little sorrows
comparable, and associated, to His own ? Oh I what
unselfish tenderness, what mild considerateness for our
weakness, our ui8coura£»ements, our continual imper-
fection I And whenct )me these kindly feelings, this
unpretending love, that asks no return but our own
souls' salvation and happiness ? From nothing ever
created on earth, save Thy benign Heart, O Saviour
of man, glowing furnace of charity, sending forth not
sparks merely to enkindle oura, so cold beside Thine,
but a calm stream of heat and light, to warm them
throughout, and make them beam with celestial joy.
Who will repine, should bitterness fill his heart, if only
some drops of the balm, into which gall itself is
changed in Thine, ovei-flow to mingle with it ? Who
will care for calumny, reproach, or persecution, so long
as within hearing of the Master, who will not have
His scholars, in this respect, better than Himself, but
cheers their hearts, if they follow Him in meekness,
with the sotmds of joy that break forth from His?

But listen now to other words which come from
that divine breast, on which reposes a witness that
will not let one of them escape. Time will not per-

XMPMMpNP

876

ON TIIK BACHED IIKAKT.

1
P

mit us to quote them ; for they compose the whole of
that unrivalled address, and that sublime prayer,
which closed our Lord's ministry on earth, before His
pnssiou. What pure and unalloyed love, soft and
tender enough to move a heart of stone, comes flowing
forth from that blessed mouth I Not an allusion to
an enemy, but in accents of unresenting kindness ; not
a thought for self, in the anxious care for those whom
His Father has given Him. What a wide and distant
aim of love, beyond His Apostles, to us, and all who
should in future ages, and remote regions, come to
know Him I What close and eternal and mysterious
compacts of love are established between the believ-
ing soul and Himself; and through Him what privi-
leges of familiarity bestowed even with the unseen,
but no longer the unknown Father 1 What riches of
light and guidance secured from the all-wise Spirit,^
for erring, ignorant maul What omnipotence of
prayer bestowed upon the feeblest of creatures, with
the very key of God's treasures put into his hands !
And then the new commandment, the very charter of
His new covenant with man, delivered, and what is
it? Love; "that you love one another, as I have
loved you." (John, xiii. 84.) And with these fii-st
words begins that divine discourse, through whicii
burns an ardor of love for man, the more intense, thut
it is the more calm, and the moro serene. Peace to
the heart of man, amidst the storms that shake it ;
peace to his soul in spite of the passions tfhat assail it ;
peace to the Church, upon the ocean-world that tries
its utmost to wreck it ; peace to His people in the
- midst of the war which Satan wages perpetually

iiY^V -miilhrnifiii inrwriii.

». II I WYlillfcii (T«ir-irtllBri fiiH iiil'mMiritlt«»'

ON THE SACRED HEART.

877

D the whole of
hlime j)r»yer,
th, before Ilia
ove, soft and
comes flowing
an allusion to
kindness; not
jr those whom
de and distant
19, and all who
5ioii8, come to
nd mysterious
en the believ-
im what privi-
h the unseen,
What riches of
all-wise Spirit,
mnipotence of
creatures, with
ito his hands !
very charter of
d, and what is
ber, as I have
7ith these fii-st
through which
ire intense, thut
ene. Peace to

that shake it ;
s that assail it ;
vorld that tries

people in the
jes perpetually

against it : such is the great gift which this love be-
queaths. And whence alone can it come ? Through-
out every sentence of that heavenly discoui-se, to
which angels must have listened with wondering
love, there are diffused a charity and a peace, such as
nowhere else ever existed, so combined, except in the
adorable Heart of the Incarnate Word. It was, in-
deed, the purest ovei-flow of that Heart, which ever
yet had found its way to earth. Gushing forth its
streams had ever been ; incessant its supply of refresh-
ment to the soul; but it w^ > d seem as though, now
that the end was approaching. He found it still so full
of its rich and sweet abundance, that He must needs
open its very floodgates, and pour it out, in one un-
checked volume of burning words over our hearts,
our souls, our lives ; over the Church, and over the
entire world itself. Charity and peace, the union of
God with man, and of man with His God, the brother-
hood of Jesus with us, the bond of love between
God and His Spoiue on earth ; these are the gifts
which the lips of our divine Master drew forth un-
sparingly from the treasury of His Heart on that
memorable night, and embodied in that matchless dis-
course, sealed by a prayer bucI: c.i only God could
utter to God, which has done more to raise man's dig-
nity, and ennoble his being and his thoughts, than all
the treatises of ancieDt philosophy, or the efforts of
modern civilization.

And yet what was all this sublime teaching of love
but merely the adornment of something more admira-
ble still, and more sublime ; of something done as well
as spoken ? It was at the same time, and at the same

878

ox TIIK BACKED IIKAKT.

table, tlmt Jesus took bread and broke it, saying :
"This is my Body;" took the cup and blessed it, say-
ing : "This is my Blood." The Heart of Jesus has
given us love, has given us peace : and in these words
It gives us Itself. It was that Heart's delight to be
with the children of men (Pro v. viii. 21); and thus is
gained its object, to our infinite gain. What abund-
ance of divine attributes were not required there to
prompt, and to pronounce efficaciously these words I
Unbounded wisdom to devise such a mo le of uniting
man to God, his Saviour ; unfailing foresight to know
that such an Institution, if made, would form the very
life of the spiritual world, in the midst of man's cor-
ruption ; unerring prudence, to temper in it so per-
fectly the seen with the unseen, as to fill the soul with
the reality, and save to faith its merit; unlimited
knowledge of man, his nature, his wants, his feelings,
bis frailties, his dangers, his powei-s, his wishes, such
as only belongs to the Creator, and the Searcher of
the reins and heart, to adapt it exn ^ly to every possi-
ble desire of his spirit, and every . .mginable craving
of his weakness ; almighty power to put nature in
perpetual bondage to grace, so that to the end of time
a marvellous combination of supernatural effects
should take place, in obedience to a continuous law,
without disturbing or ruffling the visible current of
natural things; supreme dominion to communicate
and delegate to man the exercise of this veiy act of
omnipotence ; and, above all, consummate and incom-
prehensible goodness and love to set all the rest of
these divine attributes in motion, and bind them in one
harmonious action : — such was the abundance of the

- —— -—m — iTf I ifiiniiT I iiOTir ii1if^ir-ii::.

•iMilMMMHMlliiUiiMiiM^HMiUIWf^^

ke it, saying :
blessed it, say-
• of Jesus baa
n these words
delight to be
.) ; and thus is
What abund-
lired there to
these words I
lO'le of uniting
sight to know
form the very
of man's coi^
in it so per-
l the soul with
rit; unlimited
bs, his feelings,
is wishes, such
le Searcher of
to every possi-
inable craving
put nature in
be end of time
latnral effects
mtinuous law,
ble current of
communicate
18 vejy act of
ite and incom-
all the rest of
id them in one
udanco of the

ON TIIK SACKED HEART.

879

H«»ftrt from which alone the mouth of Jesus could have
spoken those words of life.

To them we owe the best and sweetest privilege of
love, that of being able to draw grace and life from
their very source, by receiving Him within us who
contains it in Himself. There the heart of man re-
poses upon the Heart of his Redeemer, not outwardly,
a.s John's did, but in closer and even holier union,
when his frail and perishable body becomes the Teui-
ple of God, the Tabernacle of his Lord, the abode,
however humble, of his Saviour. Thence his very
body sucks in immortality, from that imperishable
Body which could not see corruption ; there his
soul feasts spiritually up :>n the virtues and excellences
which adorn thti Soul of God made man ; and there,
more wondeiful still, his whole being becomes invested
with the dignity and glory of the Divinity, which
dwells within him, and bestows on him rights and
privileges that have their final fulfilment and posses-
sion in Heaven. How truly, indeed, may it be said of
man, that " God entertaineth his heart with delight 1"

O rich abundance of the Heart of Jesus, whence all
these good things issue, through His unfailing words !
Who will refnse to love Thee, and to adore Thee, O
blessed Saviour! Who will not own that in that
blessed Heart of Thine, are centred all the manifold
forms of Thy love for man, from Thy cradle to Thy
cross ? And if in Thy sacred Word even the heart of
man receives praise from God, for good qualities
amidst its 8h« eking corrupiion, how much more must
all these be found in Thine, sinless and untainted by
the contact of evil ! Thy heart, then, is perfect (Jos.

MWMMNiife^tUMitiaH

^^•^■Hi

880

ON TIIK HACBED IlKAUT.

xxiv. 14 ; 4 Rop. xx. 8 ; Is. xxxviii. 8), one and umli.
vided (1 Reg. xii. 20 ; Tm. cxviii. 2 ; Jer. xxix. 80), sim-
ple (2 Reg. XV. 11; Job, xxxiii. 3), right before Ood
(Ph. XXXV. 11 ; Ixxii. 1 ; Prov. xxvii. 21), ntrong {Vs.
cxi. 8); it is wise (Eccles. viii. ii; Eccli. iii. 82), pru-
dent (Prov. xviii. 15), intelligent (Deut. xxix. 4),
watchful (Cant. V. 2; Eccli. xxxix. 6), profound (Prov.
XX. 6 ; Ps. Ixiii. 7) ; it is great (2 Mac. ix. 14), and wide
as the sands of the sea (Ps. cxviii. 52 ; Ixcli. iv. 29 ;
Cordis latitudinem quasi arenam) ; it is clean (?«. xxui.

^- .. «v • ._i /r>_ i..»..:: TO. « 0\ mini

iii. 87), burning (Jer. xx. 9; Luc. xxiv. 82), inflamed
(Ps. Ixxii. 21); it is humble, contrite (Ps. i. 19; cviu.
17); ready (Ps. Ivi. 8; cxi. 7), joyful (Prov. xv. 18),
mourning (Lam. i. 22), constant (1 Mac. ix. 14), mild 1

(Matt. xi. 29.) . , ., ,

But enough, dearly beloved, of this inexhaustible
theme; let ua come to ourselves. If the Heart of
Jesus has been thus good to us, if we have tasted its
sweetness in so many ways, in compassion, in forgive-
ness, in liberality, in kindness, in forbearance, in pa-
tience with us, shall we refuse to requite It, by some
mercifulness, generosity and charity on our side ? Let
our hearts be tender, too, and loving, and full of affeo
tion to others. And to whom more than to those
whom the Heart of Je*u8 particularly loved on earth,
and recommended to our carel His little ones, He
will tell you, are starving, are. naked, are pining with
distress, of the spirit more than the body ; and, in
honor of His adorable Heart, He claims from you

fcWTii |i»in-MMl<Wairw

iHMMbWMMweMIWOTW

J and undl.
ix. 80), Him-
before Ood
Htrong (I'a.
lii. 32), pru-
t. xxix. 4),
Dund (Prov.
I), and wide
^cli. iv. 29 ;
m (?«. xxiii.
c. 2), pure
loudid, good
, holy (Dan.
2), inflamed
. i. 10 ; cviii.
rov. XV. 18),
X. 14), mild 1

nexhaustible
be Heart of
ve tasted its
n, in forgive-
rance, in pa-
It, by Borae
ir side ? Let
Ifullofftffeo-
lian to thoae
ved on earth,
ittle ones. He
> pining with
»ody ; and, in
IU8 from you

ON TIIK MYSTKIllKS OF TIIK HACRKD IIKAKT. 8^1

relief and miccor for them. Honor Him thus, and you
will honor Him worthily, for you will honor Him by
imitation.

No. II.
m the ^pUxU$ o( tbr »mt& i^nrt.

It has been most becomingly appointed that the
general collection, on behalf of the Poor School Com-
mittee, should be made on the Feast of the Most Sacred
Heart of Jesus. And this selection has been confirmed
by the authoritative and paternal sanction of our
Sovereign Pontiff, who has granted for that day the
Indulgences announced to you on Sunday last.

And in truth, dearly beloved in Christ, what conld
be a more appropriate day for a general, a combined,
a Catholic act of spiritual mercy and charity than that
on which the Church sums up and symbolizes in the
Heart of Jesus all that He has done and suffered for
the salvation of souls ? This, indeed, is the purpose
and the feeling of this festival, lately conceded to us
in this country.

Whatever the teaching of science may be, it will
never divest mankind of the idea, or the instinct, that
the heart is connected with our inward affections:
that it is warm in the kind and loving, and cold in
the selfish and ungenerous ; that it is hard in the op-
pressor, fluttering in the anxious, faint in the coward-

tmmmmlfKtiif-

882 ON TTIK MY(*TKRIES OF TlIK «ACUKD HEART.

ly, cnlm in the virtuous. To apenk of tlie heart in to
•))ttuk of tiiM passioiiN, thu tiinotion*!, the Hyniptithii'H of
man ; it euihotliei! our ideas of teml«»rne«.«, of conipns-
»ion, of gentk'iu'ss, of forgivonesn, of long-Huflfuring,
aixl of every sweet variety of love. For there the
child, the parent, the npouMo, the friend, finds his spe*
cific kind of holy aftection. It is the well-spring
whence they all gush out, and nmuifest themselves in
action and in word : " for out of the -ibundance of the
lienrt tlie mouth speaketh." (Matt. xii. 24.) And if
that abundance is to be measured by that which flows
abroad, what shall we find of treasured bounty, mercy,
^race, and love, in the 8acred Heart of Hiiu whose
love redeemed uh, and continues to enrich us with
gifts of eternal value ? Who shall presume to fathom
or to measure this abyss of love ? Who shall " be
able to comprehend what is the breadth, and length,
and height, and depth" of this "charity of Christ,
which surpasseth all knowledge"? (Ephes. iii. 18, 19.)
kSo soon as the Word Incarnate appeared on earth,
that blessed Heart began to beat in love, and gave at
every pulse a homage to God, more valuable and more
acceptable than that of the celestial spheres, moving
in their order and beauty. And all this was given
up at once to man. To whatever manifestation of
Godlike and jJivine excellence It impelled Him,
whether to mighty works or to lowly disguises,
whether to glorious triumphs, or to abject suflfering,
all, all was for us ; ever varying, ever inexhaustible,
ever unthought of, workings of that one principle of
love ; fruit of eveiy sweetness springing from one
Tree of Life.

spsc;

-*»■

9 HEART.

the heart in to

(lynjpathieH of
efl.«, of compjuh

long-Huflfering,
For tlioro the
, finds hill Rpe*
\\vi well««priiig

themselves ia
undanee of the

24.) Ami if
at which flows
bounty, mercy,
of Him whose
nrich us with
ume to fathom
'ho shall "be
h, and length,
rity of Christ,
les. iii. 18, 19.)
ired on earth,
3, and gave at
able and more
heres, moving
this was given
anifestation of
mpelled Him,
vly disguises,
tject suffering,

inexhaustible,
le principle of
ing fi'om one

OK TIIK MYBTKRIM Or TlIK HACIIKD IlKAJH*. »18S

Through the now closing cycle of our annual f»'sti-
vaU, we have contemphited the love of Jt'su«» for man,
step by step and form by f«)rm. First it was shrouded
in the charms, and almost the blandishments of in*
fancy; it was winning; it was enticing: it was soften-
ing; but seemed almost inactive. We contemplated
Him as fair, gentle, annable; His infant glance, Hi»
speechless lips, His helpless frame appealed with a
natural eloquence to our hearts, when we remembered
that, inert as tliey apjieared in our regard, they were,
in Him, but a disguise that covered a boundless love
for man.

Then we approached Him, as He trod the path of
labor, pain, and sorrow: we saw hands hardened with
toil, and brow bedewed with tho sweat of Adam's
curse ; a frame attenuated with long fasting in a
desert, feet wearied with rough travel, a head unrested
by a pillow, unsheltered by a roof. Then came before
us a scene of suffering more systematic, more univer-
sal, more intense : when pain and torture were not
consequences of actions and journeyings and priva-
tions, undertaken or borne for love ; but were direct
inflictions coveted and loved on its account. Here
we saw anguish and agony, and the rending of every
tie of life, strong or tender, of that which breaks only
with excruciating violence, as of that which easily
Huaps, but with exquisite torture ; filial love, brotherly
affection, fatherly tenderness, all rudely torn in His
bosom ; and the bonds of gratitude, reverence, almost
adoration of a fickle people, sundered from His still
loving Heart. And in His body we contemplate the
head crowned with thorns, the hands and feet trans-

384 OM TIIK JIYHTKHIKH OK TIIK HACIIKD IIKAIlT.

ilx«d, the body ^t\n\m\ «n<l livid witli IwUei, every
limh <iuiverinpf with corivulnion.

At h-n^th we cntn«^ to «*'« Him \nu-^* through His
rocky Hi'puU'hre, ro«liiuit with ■plendor; dart like n
hwftvonly mutoor from plnco to plnce, penotmto the
cloaed doom, cheer niid console? Hiii disciples ; nn<l thou
MCfnd to His Fftthor'rt llij^ht Hiind, amidst angelic
greetings. And last of all w« meet Him, now a« » en,
in the wondciful Mystery of Love, in which all the
nmrvcls of love displayed in His Life are conccn*
trated; from the lowliness of the Infant, to the
immolation of the Victim, and the glorification of
Humanity — in the Eucharist, ever blessed, ever

adorable.

And while we follow Him thus, as a giant, exultant
through His career of love, all that is external and
visible changing and shifting forms; what gives to
the whole unity and identity; what brings Him be-
fore us as the same yesterday and today; where
resides the unchanging principle of all these phases of
His existence in our lower firmament ? One Heart,
unchangeable within that kingly abode, continued
from its first beat to throb with unvarying charity,
sweet yet strong, gentle yet irresistible. It gave
equal life, vigor, and intensity to every stage and state
of His being. It beat as steadily in the Child as ia
the Man ; in the Muuger as on the Cross, when Maiy
felt It gently knock against her own Heart, as when
John leaning on His bosom felt Its throes of life, at
His last feast. It is this that binds together the
various aspects of His human form ; the infant's radi-
ant eye, the youth's toiling hand, the Master's win-

i ror i iut i tt wi

atMM

•mhimmm

IIKAUT.

Innlici, every

tlij'ough His
; dart like ft
penotmte the
lea ; and tlxMi
midit angclio
, now a« t ftn,
vhich all the
a are concen*
ttfant, to the
loriflcation of
blessed, ever

riant, exultant
external and
vhat gives to
ings Him bo-
oday ; where
hese phases of
t One Heart,
do, continued
trying charity,
ble. It gave
itage and state
he Child as in
88, when Mary
Heart, as when
Itroes of life, at
I together the
le infant's radi*
Master's win-

o!f Tiir. MTsmnira or Trrr SAcnitP mcAirr. 88ft

ning lip«, the Holocaust's wreathed hea<l. To each in
its turn the Heart nent forth its streams of life, with
Him but streams of I/)ve. And to each ftinction of
charity It administered its fitting ngfnt: from that
Heart were furnished those teai-s whtrewith He wept
over the unrepenting ; that mysterious dew which
started from His pores as Ho lay prostrate in Oeth.
gemsni ; that full flow of sacred Blood, which poured
out from the fi)ur great wounds ori Calvary; that
mystical stream of regeneration whicli issued from
His blessed side, pierced by the lancd. An<l His
(ieoth even, what was it, but the Vfiy breaking and
bursting of the sacred vessel itself, that not one
drop of its divine treasure might be withhold from

inant n j

Then, aJUuredly in that Heart we may see collected,
and presented, as in one holy symbol, the immensity
of the love of Jesus for us; and sum up in this one
festival— the epilogue of our fuller commemorations-
all that He hath suffered and done for us poor sinnei-s,
tliat we might be saved. For here, as in a mirror
which concentrates the rays from every side, we look
npon all united in a smaller space, though not for that
less clear and bright. Or we may consider it as a
deep and fathomless gulf of pure and stillest water,
which, while it is in its depths unsearchable, yet re-
flects for that more accurately all that has grown,
from its fertilizing power, around it. And in either,
he who gazes shall not fail there to see himseU", as the
first and clearest object. Yes, there he truly is, in the
veiy Heart of Jesus ! From whatever side any of us
looks into it, in the midst of its sweetnesses, its mercies,

88G ON THE MYSTERIES OF TIIK SACRED HEART.

its pangs, its agonies, lie beholds himself present;
ever there, thought of, cared for, loved so tenderly
and so prominently as to be the first seen 1 Then,
who will not love and adore that Sacred Heart, so full
of us, so rich for us I Fountain of redemption, source
of salvation, spring of life, abyss of love I Heart so
pure, so sinless, so holy ; so gentle, so meek, and so be*
nign ; so spaiing, so merciful, so gracious ; ao tender,
so loving, 80 endearing ; so noble, so generous, so mag«
nificent ; so royal, so heavenly, so divine ! Seat and
throne of every virtue, of every excellent quality, of
every sublimest attribute i All hail 1 in this our fes-
tival of charity, be to us and our little ones, a shicdd,
a shelter, and a home !

For, dearly beloved in Chiist Jesus, where could we
have found a truer model, or a higher pnnciple, on
which to frame and conduct the education of our chil-
dren, than this all-holy and most innocent Heart,
which, from childhood upwards, ever throbbed in love
to God and man? Who would not rejoice to see
these little ones grow up, each to be " a man according
to God's own Heart"? And what is Catholic educa-
tion, but a striving aftor this moulding of the yet len-
der and pliant heart to this heavenly form ? What
surer pledge of future virtue couid you desire, than to
see the pupils of your schools trained in that higher
school of love, whereof the Sacred Heart of Jesus is
the type ; in the docility and meekness, the obedience
and industry, the piety and innocence which it repre-
sents?

Take heart then, this day, and give as you wish
God to requite you. How powerful, how efficacious,

D HEART.

mself present;
ed so tenderly
, seen! Then,
1 Heart, so full
imption, source
ve I Heart so
eek, and so be*
3U8 ; 80 tender,
lerous, so mag«
ae! Seat and
ent quality, of
Q this our fea-
ones, a sbitdd,

vhere could we
r pnnciple, on
ion of our chil-
inocent Heart,
robbed in love
rejoice to see
man according
Catholic educa-
of the yet '.,en-
form ? What
desire, than to
in that higher
art of Jesus is
, the obedience
which it repre-

e as you wish
low efficacious,

M g i . ■ ii0g0nmmm/ii9'^'^ *!>■ I t'm W

ON TnE MYSTERIES OF THE SACRED HEART. 387

will the prnyei-a of so many thousands of Christ's favor-
ites be, wnnnly sent up for you! How sv/eet the
offering of their holy communion ! How, if we may
so Bpeak, the Lamb of God will love to see Himself
led by the innocent and guileless, with the garlands of
simple affection which they throw about Him, to the
very foot of the Throne, round which the martyred
children of Bethlehem play (Hymn for H. Innocents) ;
and there, with unspotted hands, beg acceptance of
Him, for you their benefactors! The Church, too,
unlocks the treasury which she keeps in that ever
inexhaustible Heart, and offers you her spiritual gifts,
as your future pledge and present reward. Make,
then, this day doubly holy, doubly consecrated. Honor
with devotion the Sacred Heart of Jesus ; imitate in
charity the love which It bore you. Charity for man
is the special characteristic virtue of the feast, spiritual
charity ; love for man, but love for his soul. And, be
assured, ^hat as you cannot better practise this, than
by exerting yourselves, and making sacrifices, to pro-
cure the blessings of a sound religious education for
your poorer brethren, so your alms will be cast this
day iuto a better treasury than that of the temple
built with hands; into the Temple of the heavenly
Jerusalem, which is "the Lsmb" (Apoc. xxi. 22),
whose treasury of grace is His adorable Heart. You
will not merely be "shutting up your alms in the
heart of the poor" (Ecclus. xxix. 15), as the Old Tes-
tament exhorts you ; but, you will at the same time
be placing them in the Heart of the Most rich, and
the Most beautiful, though He, too, became poor for
love. Yea, you will be casting them into that glowing

■■MMHSi

888 ON TUB FIRK OF THE SACKED }IEABT.

furaace of love, where all is purified, and comes forth
again, no longer dross, but that refined and sterluig
gold, from which alone crowns of bliss and glory are
made for the heads, phials of sweet odor ibr the hands
of Chaity's Saints in Heaven.

No. 111.
. m tfte lire of Vxt famfl iart.

Dearly beloved children in Christ,— There is hard-
ly any topic more constantly kept before your mind,
0*1- more frequently pressed on your attention, than
the education of the poor. In one form or another,
we may say that "the poor ye have always with
vou." (Matt. xxvi. 11.) Whether it be the orphan,
ov the youthful transgressor, or the inmate of the
poor-house, or simply the child that lives exposed to
the seduction of a false religious training, or to the
temptations of idleness and ignorance, scarcely a day
passes, but some institution for the averting or miti-
gating of these evils and perils is brought before your
notice, aa requiring your charitable aid.

But the day on which this our pastoral address
will be read to you, merges in its wider and deeper
claims all other specific demands. It is the feast of
charity itself, of unrestricted charity for our poor

children. .

It is the feast of charity, not corporal but spu-itual,

ijMmammamH i mM l f»i<>u«i ii m:n 'iij]i>i n i fcn ii i m i m - wH'Mm '''^''*":

BT.

;omes forth
md sterling
d glory are
»r the hands

ON THE FIRE OF TIIE SACRED HEART.

389

irt.

here ia hard-
your mind,
ention, than
or another,
always with
5 the orphan,
mate of the
a exposed to
ng, or to the
larcely a day
rting or miti-
t before your

toral address
I- and deeper
\ the feast of
for our poor

but spiritaal,

directed to feed, to refresh, to clothe, to free, and to
elevate the soul, by the bread of God's word (Matt,
iv. 4), the waters of saving wisdom (Ecclus. xv. 8),
the raiment of heavenly grace (Gal. iv. 3), the liberty
which Christ has purchased for us, from the slavery of
sin and corruption. (Luke, xv. 22.)

It is the feast of charity, univei-sal and thoroughly
Catholic ; not confined by ♦^^he limits of our respective
dioceses, nor administered by local commissions, nor
distributed on a narrow scale of comparison. Like
the springs, which, rising in many difi'erent and dis-
tant spots, unite their waters into streams, that con-
verge and flow into one common reservoir, whence
those waters are again subdivided and beneficently
redist. ibuted, so do the many sources of charity
through our island this day contribute their shares
to one general and united treasury, from which an
impartial division is made, without regard of place,
according to the urgency of particular claims. And
this distribution, as you know, is under the care of
our excellent Poor School Committee, whose long,
patient, and conscientious administration cf the fund
thus collected and confided to its management, is be-
yond all praise.

And finally, this is the special feast of charity, in
the symbol and patronage under which this general
Bubscription is raised, those of the Sacred and Adora-
ble Heart of our divine Redeemer. For this is the
seat of that sublime charity which brought Him from
Heaven, to become man for our salvation ; this is
the link of brotherly love which made Him prefer
kindred with us, to allianco with angelic spirits ; this

890

ON THK FIUIC OF TIIK SAOIIKD HEART.

19 the fountftin wlience flowed the iti-oam of life,
outpoured for the clonnsing of m\ nnd the propitia-
tion of the divine wrath ; tliin is the wine-press which
furnishes with inexhaustible abundance, the wine to
the chalice of salvation, on the Table of His house, the

Church. ♦

Every form of love, of benignity, of kindness, of
meekness, of long suffering, and of generosity ; in giv-
ing, in pordoning, in rewarding ; whensoever, where-
soever, and towards whomsoever displayed, is found
naturally in that Heort, which, oa in other men, so in
the l.eat and holiest of men, is the very abode of every
good and perfect emotion. And what shall we, or
•what will the world gain, from this commemoration
of BO sweet and so sublime a symbol, if it remain no
more than such to us, not a living, warm and throb-
bing reality in which we take our share, not only for
oui-selves, but for many others.

^^Nonne eor nostrum ardsna erat in nohiaf^ —
" Was not our heart burning within ns, whilst He
apoke on the way 1" (Luke, xxiv. 82) said the disci-
pies, whom Jesus overtook, on the day of His resui'-

rection. ^ > ^ -

To be with Him, to hear Him speak, to dnnk in
His wisdom and imbibe His sentiments; to bring, or
have brought their hearts into consonance and harmony
with Hia Heort, set theirs on fire, inflamed them with
•imilar offection ; so that they immediately returned
homo, to communicate their burning thoughts to their

brethren.

For, what else was it thot set their hearts a-burn-
ing, but that fire of which Our Lord had long before

■iMMi

U I( W fc» wW Wi'IWI IIIWIl BH WWWW^I

> i M «—in i n ii i mmmmmmn m j ■w wasjutw '

EART.

i'oatn of life,
the propitia-
le-press which
, the wine to
[lis house, the

• kindness, of
rosity ; in giv^
soever, where-
lyed, is found
her men, so in
bode of every
, shall we, or
)mniemoratioa
f it remain no
ra and throb*
e, not only for

in nobiaf^ —

us, whilst He

said the disci-

r of His resai^

k, to drink in
B ; to bring, or
e and harmony
aed them with
lately returned
raghts to their

hearts a-burn-
lad long before

ON TMK FIRE OF TIIK RACRED IIKART.

891

spoken, when Ho said : " I have come to cast fire upon
earth, and what will I but that it be kindled ?" (lb.
xii. 49.) And what was this fire ?

Not that flume of insurrection and disloyalty, which
made all pretendei-s of the Messiahship firebrands, men
to be pui-sued witli the sword, into the wilderness.
(Matt. xxiv. 2G.) For even His enemies, when they
sought for proof of His rivalry to Csesar, did not think
of referring to this expression.

Not the heartburnings and jealousies which charac-
terized the religious and political parties in the Jewish
people, at that period. He had naught to do with
Pharisee or Sadducee, Essenian or Herodian, who
hated one another " with perfect hatred." (Ps. cxxxviii.
22.)

Not with the fiery zeal of scribes and priests, who
scorned the Gentile, as the Greek did the barbarian,
and scrupled not to shed the innocent blood of their
holiest Lord, from fear that the prerogatives of their
class and nation should be injured through Him. (Jo.
xi. 48.)

Not even that more specious but mistaken ardor of
His own disciples, which would have brought down
fire from Heaven to destroy His enemies and persecu-
toiu (Luke, ix. 54.) For He said to them : " Ye know
not of what Spirit ye are." .

Now, by this rebuke, He seemed to warn and re-
mind them, that aa yet they were not of that Spirit
who was to desce*\d, indeed, in flakes of fire, but soft
and lambent as iist soothing and healing tongue ; sep-
arate, so as to be carried away by each Apostle of
faith and love to his own allotted province ; parted

mmwiTrr'Ti" '*^''^''--''''''^'^*'^'''^'"*^*^'^"^

»02

oN THE FIRE OF THE 8ACRKD HEAUT.

and cloven, like the root from which have to upring
many plants, each fertile and pregnant with further,
and endless, and inexhaustible life.

A:id well He added to His reproof: "The Son of
man came no* to destroy souls, but to save." (v. 56.)
Yes, this fire of love, this burning, bright, inextin-
guishable, and unconsuming flame of Pentecost, was
the fire which Jesus scattered over the earth, from
the wings of the dove-like Paraclete, and which He
80 earnestly desired should everywhere be kindled.
It was a fire that would save, not destroy, souls.

And what was the first and natural impulse of this
new motive power to the hearts on which it seized ?
To go forth instantly and communicate it to othere.
As the two disciples whose hearts felt burning at
Emmaus, could not remain quiet ct their journey's end,
but must needs return back, impelled irresistibly by
the flame kindled within them, to set others on fire
with their own joy and love, so rushed the apostles
amidst the crowd, to kindle in thousands the fire
which the Holy Spirit had just cast upon themselves.
And as fire, sometimes creeping silently along, some-
times bounding from fuel to fuel that it meets, like a
quick and active thing, makes it burn and blaze, till
it create a wide-spread conflagration, so did the sparks
fly from heart to heart that day in Jerusalem, till the
few tongues of fire which had descended in the moin-
ing. had multiplied before evening, or had been divi^led
into three thousand separate flames. For such was
the number added to the Church that .'ay. (Acts, ii.

41.)

And how, dearly beloved children, was the wonder-

re to opting
vith further,

"The Son of
c" (v. 56.)
gilt, iuextiu-
ijntecost, wft3

earth, from
i which He

be kindled.
f, soula.
pulse of this
3h it seized ?
it to others.
t burning at
journey's end,
rresistibly by
thers on fire

the apostles
ands the fire
u themselves.
' along, some-
meets, like a
md blaze, till
iid the sparks
salem, till the
I in the morri-
1 been divi^led
For such was
ay. (Acts, ii.

» the wonder-

ox THE FIHE OF THE SACRED IIEAUf.

898

ful propagation and enkindling of the fire thus cant on
earth accomplished? Ah 1 by how simple, how
homely a process ! Not by a miracle, as later, at the
Beautiful Gate of the Temple, when the lame man
was healed (lb. iii.) ; not by an exercise of majestic
and judicial authority, such as punished Anania-s and
his wife. (lb. v.) For though the gift of tongues
attracted, amazed and overawed the multitude, it did
not convert them, but rather provoked jeere and
scoffs.

No I it was by simple instruction, we almost said, by
education. It was not till Peter had spoken that the
assembly was moved to compunction, to the profes*
sion of the truth, and to virtuous life, in communion
with the almost unknown and calumniated Church of
Christ.

And now let us trace the coui-se of this most won-
derful and mysterious fire, which hjis descended as an
inheritance even to us. It came from Heaven : it had
existed there from all eternity, its symbol, the Holy
Spirit, its reality, the bond of unity in the Godhead ;
for this is charity. Rays or reflections of it had
reached earth : its substance never. The " lamp of
fire " which passed between Abraham's victims (Gen.
XV. 17) ; the flame which, breaking out from the rock,
consumed Gideon's holocaust (Jnd. vi. 21); the "fire
of the Lord " which, falling, swallowed up not only
the victim, but the altar of Elias's offering (3 Reg.
xviii. 38) ; in fine, that miraculous fire which was ob-
tained from the sediment of th^ well in which the
perpetual fire of the temple had been hidden, and
kindled itself anew upon the whole-burnt sacrifice of

■StrVTSRSW 'f t-i'T^ ■

804 ox TiiK niiK or the sacrkd hkart.

Qod'8 people, redeemed from captivity (2 Mac. i. 22) ;
these, and other symbolical interpoeitions of a celestinl
fire in ancient nacriflces, were a foreshadowing of that
divine flame which was to be steadily and actively in
operation after the figurative sacrifl-esof the older dis-
pensation should have given way to the real and clean
oblation of the New Law.

For, in fact, to bring down to earth that really
heavenly lovu, it required, not an angel or a burning
seraph, but One in whom it lived, and from whom »t
could not depart, even if He seemed to quit the etur-
nal throne to which it bound Him in indissoluble union.
And hence the only begotten and co-equal Son of the
Father declared, " Sacrifice and oblation Thou didst
not desire, then, said I, behold I come:' (Ps. xxxix. 8.)
And to this declaration seems naturally to attach itself
the expression on which we have been commenting :
" I have oome."

First, He promised, or offered to come, to au^rsede
those oblations which the typical fire consumed. Then
He proclaims to us that He has come, the living, lov-
ing and enduring Victim, to bring down the real
warmth, light, and flame of Heaven, that CiiARmr, un-
known before, which, as it has been from all eternity
the very bond of divine Unity, was now to become
the principal motive and cause of the new alliance
of the divine with the human nature. For, not dis-
solving His essential and necessary community of be-
ing in the adorable Trinity, Jesus Christ associated
His divinity to our humanity through that unspeaka-
ble love wherewith God loved us. " In this has' the
charity of God appeared towards us, because God

BfM"s».-r ■.■^^■SXS f .T?V.3'.fsT.:rs?ir-- '^^i

■-•i •.^-r'ti <;v^va.-»:y3aOTffTg>-'Mg ^^ »" -.^ y'^ >>' »?'^g^^^

IRT.

Mac. i. 22) ;
of a celestiftl
(ving of tliat
I actively in
he older dis-
eal and cleaa

that really
r ft burning
sm whoiT^ it
ait the etcT'
oluble nnion.
kl Son of tlie

Thou didHt
?8. Txxix. 8.)
} attach itaelf
oominenting :

to Bupersede
snraed. Then
16 living, lov-
)wn the real
CiiABrrr, un-
I all eternity
w to become
new alliance
For, not dis-
Qunity of be-
ist associated
lat nnspeaka-
this has^ the
because Qod

ON THE FIIIE OF THE SACUED HEART.

305.

hath sent down IHh only-begotten Sou into the
world" (I Jo. vi. 9), whereby we have "fellowship
with the Father, and with Ilia Son, Jesus Christ." (lb.

i. 8.)

The charity or love, therefore, which reigned eter-
nally in Heaven, was the Are which our Lord and
Saviour first brought down on earth at His incarnation,
to be the link of union between God and man, and to
be the consuming fire of His voluntary and priceless
immolation.

And where was this fire treasured up, which Jesus
Christ brought to scatter over the earth, excPi)t in His
most adorable Heart, whence John drew his stores of
love, and which, from the moment that it was formed,
beat and throbbed only with love for God and man.
And therefore would He have it opened on His cross,
that its unreserved richness of charity might be all
poured out to earth.

From that fervent and ardent Heart of Jesus, then,
came that fire, to kindle which He sent His Comforter
after Himself. (John, xv. 26 ; xvi. Y.) For John fore-
told that He whom he announced should "baptize in
the Holy Ghost and in fire." (Matt. iii. 11.) And this
fire was communicated first to the hearts of the apos-
tles, and from theii-s to those of the faithful, as St. Paul
assures us, that " the charity of God is poured forth
in our hearts by the Holy Ghost who is given us."
(Rom. V. 6.) Thus are this fire and this charity but
one and the same.

And thia iupouring of the divine fire of love is
made, first, by the sacraments, in which the grace of
the divine Spirit is directly communicated, and then.

806

OK THE FIIIE or TlIK HACRET) IIEAHT.

M WO have seen, l>y the teacl.ing of tli« Cliurch, or by
Peter'd iipaaking to the inultitodo of the faithful in the
penjon, and on behalf, of the entire apo«tle«»hip.

"What follows, dearly beloved, but this?— that Jf we
deuire to have share in this blessed office, that of trans-
fusing the riches of the sweet Heart of Jesus into yet
innocent hearts, more worthy of them than our own
Hiuful ones, we must generously attempt it by instruct-
ing, in the knowledge and love of Him, those in whom
more than in any othere. He wishes thia double flame
of light and fire, of wisdom and charity, to be enkin-
dled. But what have we said ? Will not that act on
your parts, by which you communicate to Christ'i
children this fire of love, through a religious educa-
tion, be itHelf a bright and shining evidence, before
God and His Church, that the ftre of charity has been
already kindled in your own hearts?

Then draw nigh to day to this furnace of brilliant
flame, to this burning Heart of Jesus, and tbere renew
your spirit of charity, by imitating its peculiar love
for His favorite poor and little ones. Give abun-
dantly and generously, that so the interests of the
Sacred Heart may be fully carried out by our zealous
and devoted Poor School Committee. Make up,
therefore, this year, for the deficiencies of the last,
and kindle far and wide, by your greater liberality,
that divine fire, which our Lord and Saviour came to
cast upon the earth. And to Him eainestly and
warmly we commit the care of your reward. "For
He is faithful that hath promised; and let us consider
one another, to i)rovoke unto charity and good works."
The grace of God be with you. Amen.

LllT.

lurch, or hy
itiiful in the
»Hhip.

—that if we
hftt of trans-
i'8us into yet
mn our own
; by instruct"
080 in whom
iloublo flame
to be en kin-
t tliat act oa
B to Christ's
igious cduca*
ilence, before
rity has been

e of brilliant
I there renew
peculiar love
Give nbun-
;ereBt8 of the
y our zealous
, Make up,
IS of the last,
ter liberality,
viour came to
eai'nestly and
eward. "For
let as consider
I good works."

^mm

mtfm

No. IV.
0n iU ^0i[ f rrriouif astood ot (he ^mi of our

By a liturgical combination, which cannot happen
again within the lives of most of us, this Sunday,
instead of being dedicated to the celebration of a feast
in honor of the Sacred Heart of our Divine RedcemiM",
will commemorate instead His most precious Blood.
It can, indeed, scarcely bo said that the two festivals
are different. The primary object is the same in both.
They are expressive of the same woi-ship, the same
adoration, the same gratitude, and the same love, di-
rected to Him whose heart poured ort its life-blood
for our redemption. Whether in its deep cistern, or
in its unfailing out-flow, we honor and venerate alike
the price of our freedom and our life.

And what else is the blessed Heart of Jesus but
the wonderful alembic which transmuted the food
of earth, not merely into the nourishment of one
body, and the life-stream of one person, but into the
quickening support of millions, into the circulation of
unity through the entire Church of ages, into the ran-
8om beyond prioe of all mankind, into the golden flood,
which flowing ever from the foot of the Lamb, watei-s
and fertilizes Heaven and earth, becomes the river of
life to one, the stream of grace to the other.

For what, again, is the adorable Heart of Jesus but

SnA

Onr TIIK MOskT iiutosout bI.OCD or

the fountain of Pnrftdiiif, vliencn Rpnnj;ii tli« rivur
that in tlividml into four branches, carrying n^frtjali-
luent, healing, and life to ev«ry region, and to «very
race I One ii a Inver of cloanning and r»*gt'nerkting
water, wnshing away nil «in and stain ; another it a
bath that roatoi-ei or increaaen truui and vigor to thoM
who have to wrestle and fight for Ood ; a third in a
rich flow of coniiccrating unction such as Htrenmed
frona the head of Aaron; while the last and best it
the refreshing torrent of delights, at which sainU
drink with renewed rapture, and forgiven sinnt r«j with
strengthening relish.

All these streams of salvation, however different
their immediate action, are but one in source and in
sul)staoce. For what is it that washes away our "tains
but " the blood of Jesus Christ, which cleanseth us
from every sin ?" IIow did the oil of unction ficquire
its power to strengthen and to consecrate, but from
those first instalments of our ransom, which flowed
upon the root of tho olive, trickling from the pores of
our prostrate I/)rd, like an enriching dew that jier-
vades their fruit. But direct from the divine Heart,
in full warm surge, wells forth tho ti<l'^ of a spiritual
abundance, water for our purification Hi»t.ion for
our consecration, and the chalice of lv<.ti»>j\ Hence
the eucharistic " wine springing forth virgins" (Zach.
ix. 17), the juice of the true vino, whereof we are the
branches, the balm of soothing and healing virtue
which issued from His body, to the very hem of our
Loi i'i outer garment, but now rushes out through the
open gash that reaches to the very core of that celes-
tial plaDt

TIII^ nr.ART OF OUR LORD JfM^n c

n tli« rivi'f
ii>jjf r«"frt!iih«
lul to «v«iy
'f generating
motltor in a
ijor to thoiw
H third in a
ill Htrfamed
and b«Mit it
^hioh (tainta
ttinntiro witU

^er different
9arc6 and in
ly our "tains
jltianstith ut
tion fiequire
te, but from
hich flowed
the pores of
;w that jier*
ivine Heart,
f a Hpiritual
unction for
ur\ Hence
•gina" (25ach.
f we are the
aling virtue
hem of our
through the
>f that celes-

Yt'»i, di'oily li«»iovp<l in (.'hiiiit, what«*Vfr i» goo<l,
whn«v vor i« holy, wl'.atever in jwrfect Uj>ou earth, hna
come to u« from, and through, and by the n^xit
* precious Blood of our divine Fxird and Saviour JcMtis
Christ. Thin, from the beginning, was more variously,
and more abundant^ symbolized to uh than any
thing else in the N«!W Testament; though ifs exct-l.
lenre is manifested by the contrast in which it stands
with its types. It was to be innocently shed like
Abel's, that it might be shown to plead better and
more efficaciously than it for mercy, not for ven-
geance. It v.as poured out in sacrifice, that it might
be proved inf!nit<'ly superior to the blood of ox"n
and of goat«, which had no power to cleanse the soul.
(Heb. ix. 18.) Finally, the paschal lamb, the noblest
type of our redemption, by the anointing with its
blood of the doo.'-posts of the IsraeliteM, scared away
the destroying angel, and made Pharaoh relax his
grasp on God's captive people, and so freed them ;
only to prefigure how the I^mb that taketh away
the sins of the world would baffle and overcome
the prince of darkness and of eternal death, and
force the tyrant of earth and hell to let His own
people go free, to offer sacrifice even in this wilder^
nesH.

And how was this f The posts of the gate which
alone leads to life immortal, the ctohh under which all
must stoop who desire to enter into Paradise, are
richly streaked, nay, thickly puinted with the Blood
of "our immolated Pasch," more terrible to His ene-
luieH than the brightest flash of Heaven's lightning.
And so, when we poi-take of the Divine Mysteries, the

m/mn^'^f^^

400

ON THE 5I08T P11ECI0D8 BIX)OD OF

I '-*■

threshold of oar mouths, our lips, are dyed with the
same rich drops that fell so copiously on Calvary.

"With what devotion, then, should we not commem-
orate this shedding of our Saviour's precious Blood,
at the very mention of which the Church makes her
ministei's bend their knees, in awe and adoration of a
mystery so profound and yet so sweet, so fearful and
yet so tender ! As the more deep and terrible is the
gulf that opens beneath us, the more we feel drawn
tow-ards it, and tempted to plunge into "it, so is this
abyss of wonderful and unfathomable goodness, awful
to contemplate, yet inviting our love to dive into it
fearlessly, and taste unsated of its delights.

To think that God should have taken flesh, the very
body cf man, with all its lowliness of nature but won-
dera- of construction, merely that He might die, and
that He should have blood to shed, for man's ransom,
salvation, and nourishment; to contemplate by what
harrowing and afflicting ways this outpouring should
have to be made, by what stripes, bufi'ets, wounds,
gashes, piercing and transfixing of every part of that
thrice-holy Body, to the very rending of its divine
Heart ; to meditate on the overwhelming truth that
God, the Father who loved Him with an infinite affec-
tion, should have been pleased, propitiated, soothed
and turned to love from just anger by this tremendous
atonement, baffles and sets at naught all our estimates,
and all our reasonings on the eternal and infinite ways
of a divine dispensation. Yet how bright this depth,
how richly lighted by every tender hue of love ! How
meekness and gentleness, mercy and forgiveness, disin-
terestedness and self-sacrifice, county and liberality,

aMiSTwfe'Tsgir'wJR ^ Tyiar ^ ^^^

Jyed with the
Calvary,
uofc commem-
lecious Blood)
ch makes her
idoration of a
80 feaiful and
;errible ia the
'e feel drawn
»'it, so is this
jodness, awful
o dive into it
Its.

flesh, the very
iture but won-
iiight die, and
man's ransom,
slate by what
ouring should
iiffets, wounds,
y part of that
; of its divine
ing truth that
a infinite affec-
:iated, soothed
bis tremendous
[ our estimates,
d infinite ways
yht this depth,
of love ! How
giveness, disia-
and liberality,

THE HEART OP OUK LORD JESUS CHRIST. 401

affectionateness and familiarity, parental fondness and
brotherly caress, play through the abyss, as profound
and as measureless, and as incomprehensible as itself!
How unsearchable are the ways of God's love, as
much as those of His might! Who hath been His
counsellor but Himself— th6 infinite goodness urg-
ing on the infinite energy of the Divine in all things !

But what multiplies beyond the bounds of a limited
conception the immensity of this love is, that it is in-
dividual and singular. "Sic totum omnibus quod
totum singulis." Every drop of blood, so unreservedly
poured out on Golgotha, was gathered into one cup,
the whole contents of which every soul may drink and
make its own. The entire price was paid for each :
the value of each soul is the equivalent of the whole
ransom. The treasure is not divided and paid out in
single coins, but the entire sum is lavishly given to
each prodigal. Who can penetrate to the depths of
this almighty mercy ; yet who can forbear to love it
and do his utmost to be worthy of it ?

Hence, dearly beloved children in Christ, when we
put before you the claims of little ones— little by age
or by worldly insignificance — we are accustomed to
lay our principal stress on this one motive, that their
souls have been thought worth His precious life-blood,
by Jesus Christ, their and our Redeemer. When es-
pecially we call on you to exercise the highest act of
spiritual charity, to save their souls rather than sus-
tain their bodies, the plea comes home with tenfold
urgency. Will you not concur, and assist to the ut-
most in saving the souls which He so dearly bought,
«nd loved beyond His own precious life ?

402 ON THE EDUCATiON OF TUB HEART OV JE8U9.

To this anpeal you cannot answer, no : it is impossi-
ble. Such,\li en, especially, is our pleading the day
that you hear these words. It i« only by multiplying
the means of religious education that thousands of
your poor children can be ensured that salvation which
Jeflus Christ purchased for them. The society to which
you are asked to contribute hac this for its sole and
universal object. It seeks, like the charity of our
Lord and Saviour, to embrace all and each, to extend
its salutaiy effects throughout the whole country, and
to reach the smallest and most neglected child with
individual assistance.

So may God requite you, and give you of Hit
abundance, through the redemption which is by Christ
Jesus. Amen.

No. V.

. «

m m mmiim of tht lead ot ie$tt«.

Wheit, lately, our Holy Father condescended to
manifest His sympathy for our poor children, He sent,
as the symbolical expression of that feeling, a repre-
sentation of the Sacred Heart of our Divine Saviour,
with a loving message to assure us how sincerely He
had their welfare at heart. And, in this selection. He
only approved and confirmed that choice which the
Catholic Church, over which He rules, had long made
of that same sacred emblem, to represent the charity

mm.

JESUS.

; is impossi-
ig the day
multiplying
iiousands of
atioQ which
sty to which
its sole aud
rity of our
b, to extend
ioqntry, and
I child with

you of Hii
is by Christ

lescended to
Iren, He sent,
ling, a repro-
vine Saviour,
sincerely He
selection, He
ice which the
ad long made
t the charity

ON TIIE EDUCATION OF TUE HEART OF JK8US. 403

of our Lord Jesus Christ, towards all mankind, and
consequently more especially towards those objects of
His tenderest affection.

Yes, dearly beloved in Christ, the education of
poor children, under the auspices of the adorable
Heart of Jesus, possesses large and ample claims
upon your charity. This beautiful symbol, in fact,
holds and comprehends in itself the whole design
and purposes of the education which we aim at
giving.

When our blessed Ix)rd Himself instructed, or
rather educated (for He had to deliver the very fli-st
rudiments of religious wisdom to men more ignor-
ant of them than a child is now), we may imagine
His audience to have been very like that which now
surrounds His priests in this metropolis, when they
catechize, or when, without reputation for eloquence
that attracts, they labor to instil simple doctrine into
the minds of crowds. Very like, even the many who
gather as yet round Him in His tabernacle, in less
central churches, about which none live but the poor,
must have been the congregations which first heard
the sublime elements of Christian doctrine. They are
simply described, again and again, by the word which
characterizes such a body, — "the crowd." In the
singular or in the plural — turba or turbo), " the
crowd,^* or " cr<?M«fo," they are so mentioned upwards
of forty times, in each of the gospels according to St.
Matthew and to St. Luke. It is not thus that the
rich are spoken of.

It is not thus that a select congregation at the feet
of a fashionable preacher would be denominated.

■tfTKfTSCflW.S

404 ON TIIK EDUCATION OF THE HEART OP JESUS.

They would be Horry to be so desif^tiftted. Yet it is of
this congregation that we read that " the crowds won-
dered at or admired His doctrine" (Matt. vii. 28;
xxil. 88), and His miracles (Matt. ix. 33; xv. 31 ; Luke,
xi. 14) ; that they recognized His rank and title, say-
ing: "Is not this the son of David T (Matt. xii. 28)
that they spread their garments on His path, and
gave Him His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. (Matt,
xxi. 9.) Nay, it was this crowds mob, as no doubt the
priests and Pharisees loved to call it, which these
proud men feared in their plots against Him. (Matt.
xxi. 26; Luke, xxii. 6.) Indeed, we are told, that
" of the people" {turba, in the Vulgate), " many believed
in Him" (John, vii. 81), so that the Pharisees said:
" Hath any one of the ruloss believed in Him, or of
the Pharisees ? But this multitude (turha) that know-
eth not the law, are accui*sed." (49.) Bitter words,
these, and how like words often spoken now-a-days I
Rulers and Pharisees— the leading men, and the
learned men of the nation, not one had publicly ac-
knowledged or followed Jesus : the common people,
the poor "who knew not the" Bible, are accursed, de-
groded, outcast, for their faith. The one exception,
NicoderauB, who rises to impugn this abominable
declaration, is described as " he that came to Him by
night, and is so secretly a believer, that his compan-
ions ask in surprise, "Art thou also a Galilean]"
(50, 62.)

The powerful men occasionally come on the stage
to tempt, or entrap, or impugn His words (Matt. xvi.
1 ; xix. 8 ; xx. 17 ; Luke, x. 25), or even to calumni-
Atc and vilify Him to His face. (Mark, lii. 22 ; Jo.

f JESUS.

Yet it is of
crowds won-
att. vli. 28;
V. 31 ; Luke,
id title, say-
latt. xii. 28)
a path, and
alom. (Matt.
10 doubt the
which tliese
Him. (Matt,
e told, that
any believed
arisees said :
i Him, or of
i) that know-
Jitter words,

now-a-d»y8 1
ea, and the
publicly ao
imon people,
accursed, de-
le exception,

abominable

e to Him by

his conipan-

a Galilean r

on the stage
tS (Matt. xvi.
[ to calumni-
E, lii. 22 ; Jo.

ON THE EDUCATION OP THE HEART OF JESUS. 405

vii. 20 ; viii. 42 ; x. 20.) Or they invite Him to their
houses, and scorn His humility and charity towflrdn
penitents (Luke, vii. 30), or captiously watch His
exercise of loving power on the Sabbath (xiv. 1), or
ask Him to work a miracle and be jeered foi attempt*
ing it (v. 38.)

It is not a crowd of noble or dainty peopla who
would go for three days into a wilderness, without
provisions, or servants to procure them, and sit down
in ranks upon the grass to be fed like children, or
beadsmen at a gate. He has told us, " What went
you out in the desert to see ? A man clad in soft
garments? Behold they who are clad in soft gar-
ments are in the houses of kings" (Matt. xi. 8), not in
deserts. No, the crowd which surrounded Him was a
rude jostling crowd, which so pressed Him on all sides,
that His disciples said it was impossible to ascertain
who^touched Him (Luke, viii. 45) ; which almost drove
Him into the sea, and compelled Him to teach from a
boat (v. 1) ; which let down its sick through the roof
of a house, to reach Him. (v. 19.)

Such were the men and women to whom Jesus
Christ taught the fii-st Christian catechism; the same
class as He selec'edHis disciples and apostles from,
the poor, the unlettered, the weak and the despised.
It was " to the poor that His gospel was preached."
(Matt. xi. 6.)

Now it was of such a crowd as this that we are told
that "they brought Him young children that He
might touch them" (Mark,x. 13); and of the children
of such parents when the disciples rebuked them. He
said : " Suflfer the little children to come unto Me " But

"yL ' . fi y ? !y>'y ' g '* - ''- - ' " ? - r y ??•

400 OM TIIK EDUCATION OF THE HEART OF JE8UB.

He was not content with doing what those poor good
people asked. St. Mark tells us that He went far be-
yond this: "and embracing them, and laying His
hands upon thera, He blessed them.'' (16.) More
pointedly still, when He wished to place before His
apostles and disciples— His fishermen, His sailors. His
publicans, a type of perfection, and representative of
those who were fit to enter into His Church, He Himself
" caUs unto Him a little child." (Matt, xviii. 2.) What
sort of a child 1 He did not send for him. He calls
him, one at hand, one of the poor, a child from the
crowd, ^be rude, vulgar crowd.

Intending to show them what they must heconu to
enter the kingdom of heaven, would it not have been
almost harsh and ungentle, to put in the midst of
them one whose entrance into it was likely to be as
difficult as the passage of a camel through the needle's
eye, a child bright with beautiful health, sleek ^and
clothed in soft garments, a type of earthly prosperity,
training, and happiness? "Alasl" would they not
sav, " nothing can ever make us like that child 1" But
let ns rather imagine a little child called there and
then from amidst those who habitually followed and
admired Jesus,— a wan, emaciated, sickly child ; neg-
lected, and uncared for, poorly attii-ed, perhaps m
tattered raiment, with bare limbs, and uncovered
head: one in whom the poor would see httle unlike
themselves outwardly, little to mortify them or hum-
ble them, nothing in fact different from themselye^
except in the innocence and simplicity of its age: and
we shall understand the full beauty of this passage m
our Lord's life, and the sublimity of its lesson.

JK8UB.

ON THE EDUCATION OP THE HEART OF JKSU8. 407

) poor good
Bvent far be-
laying His
16.) More
before Hia
I sailorfi, His
?8entative of
, He Himself
i.2.) What
im, He calls
Id from tbe

ist become to
)t have been
he midst of
:ely to be as

I the needle's
h, sleek ^and
yr prosperity,
lid they not
child 1" But
id there and
followed and
y child ; neg"
I, perhaps iu
d uncovered

little unlike
;hem or hura-

II themselves,
fits age: and
his passage in
esson.

Now what (loth Jesus with this poor little thing,
picked up in the street or lane ? Does He merely,
perhaps, authoritatively, call it, and set it in the mid-
dle of His followers, scared or insolent, to be lectured
on, like a model or a machine? Surely not: listen
once moi e to St. Mark. " And taking a child," — tak-
ing it, mind, not ashamed of handling or caressing it, —
" and taking a child, He set him in the midst of them,
whom when He had embraced, He saith to them:
whoever receiveth one such child as this in my name,
receiveth Me." (Mark, ix. 35.) It is with this little
poor, and perhaps outcast, child in His arms, that He
spoke those words of grace, the motto inscribed on the
charity of to-day. But this is not the whole mystery
of the act. For it comprises the entire scheme and
principle of Catholic education.

Jesus embraced that little child. His representative
on earth : that is. He pressed it to His own living,
warm, and palpitating Heart ; to that Heart whiph,
by every pulsation, sends salvation and eternal life
through the frame of the whole Church, which darts,
with irresistible thrill, the price of redemption to the
utter bounds of earth. It was a dearly-bought dis-
tinction to holy Simeon, earned by a long life of hope
and prayer, to hold in his arms his infant Saviour, to
whom he could nothing give. What an honor for
this child to be taken up into His arms who could
give him all things. But no, this is not enough : that
poor little creature has forestalled the place of John,
the place of honor and of love ; that place far beyond
what John's mother had dared in her maternal pre-
sumption to ask, which was only that he might sit on

■m&'mfis ill

;Tf3rt#??nrt*^

rtte

' \

liml'i

408 OK THK EDUCATION OF THE IIEAIIT OF JE808.

the right or left hand of Je«ns. When He rejected
hei- petition, He reserved tor liira much more, that he
should recline upon His glorions b<)«oni, the tabernacle
of His self-immolating Heart. But the child had
climbed up there, had nestled there before even the
beloved one, and had come down again, educated as
the contact with that adorable Heart can educate—
the very God-child of Jesus. So necessary a conse-
quence was this, that in the ancient Church it used to
be thought that this chosen child grew up to be the
holy Martyr and Bishop Ignatius, the most like to
John, in burning love, of the early saints. ^

But as we said just now, in this sweetest incident
of our Redeemer's life, we have the whole theory of
Catholic education.

Fii-st listen to His words and learn: "He who re-
ceiveth one such child as this, in my name, receiveth
Me." How easy a thing it is, then, to receive Jesus 1
How easy, especially in this metropolis 1 Come 1 two
need not receive the same. Our Lord asks you to re-
ceive one a-piece, to enjoy the stupendous privilege of
receiving Him. We have them ready. Come ten
thousand strong, ye rich ! come twenty thousand in
ranks, ye who are not in want I We have one at least
for each of you, in the streets, and lanes, in the courti
and corners, in the gai-rets and cellars of luxurious
London. And how will you receive these tender am-
bassadore from your Lord, these delicate and frail
little images of God Incarnate 1 Will you be hwsh
and ungracious to them ; or haughty and imposing ;
will you be repulsed by their rags, their unclean mess,
their rudeness, or their stolidity 1 Or rather will you

JESOB.

He rnjected
ore, that lift
e tabernacle
3 child hnil
re even the
educated as
,n educate—
nry a conse*
ah it used to
jp to be the
most like to

>test incident
)le theory of

" He who re-
me, receiveth
eceive JeauR I

Come! two
iks you to re*
9 privilege of
. Come ten

thousand in
e one at least

in the courts

of luxurious
Be tender am-
ate and frail
you be hwsh
id imposing;
uncleanliness,
ither will you

Olf TlIE EDUCATION OF THE IIEAUT OF JESUS. 409

bo kind and gentle, generous and handsome, in your
dealing with them; will you warm them at your
hearts, give them rest on your bosoms ? It was thus,
at least, that Jesus treated them, when He received
them, and asked you to receive them.

And now, dearly beloved, in our love for Him, you
will ask us how is this to be done? Simply and
easily. Every child whom you will provide with a
Catholic education, you bring to the very Heart of
our Lord, and educate there. Science and letters, if
taught in His spirit, may indeed be as His two arms,
which raise the child from the earth, and its grovel-
ling thoughts; but religious and moral truth alone
put His seal upon all other teaching ; and that seal is
the pressure of His sacred Heart, of its diamond
sti-ength and brilliancy, on the yet soft wax of the
childish heart. By this holy impulse is the one
clasped close upon the other, and the infinite graces
of the one are inhaled, as was man's firat breath of
life, by the awakening intelligence and expanding
feelings from the living fountain of all-redeeming
love!

For, what is there in the divine Heart of Jesus,
which you would not gladly transfuse into the child's,
even though it may seem to be a pouring from a
golden vessel into one of clay? Would you not
gladly enrich that little heart with some diops of His
mildness, gentleness, patience ; of His humility, meek-
ness, and sweetness ; of His charity, affeotionateness,
tenderness ; of His purity, innocence, holiness ? And
where are all these virtues to be found ? He has told
01, " Learn of Me, because I aia meek and humble

—J-

" -MMMMMIIlicn

410 o» TU« iDucATioN or TiiK HEART ov jmvu,

of heart: (Matt. xi. 12.) If the treiwiire-ljouM of
Hia hnmility in lUa heart, if the school of Hi« jnf^k-
nan ia in His brenal, there ftlao renida thoeo other
virtues which you wiih to infuae into the chiUl'i
heart, there \n the school at which you would b.ivo it
trained. For " where its treanure is, there its heart
should ako be." (Luke, xxi. 84.) And long before
the proclaimer of the eternal wisdom had said : " In-
cline thy heart to know prudence If wisdom

shall enter into thy heart, .... counsel shall please
thee, that thou mayest be delivered from the evil
way keeping the paths of justice, and guarding the
way of the saints." (Prov. ii. 1-12.) If, thon, the
treasure of the virtue is in the sacred Heart of Jesus,
thither speedily take the young heart to be filled ; if
the training in the way from which the youth and the
old man ought not to depart (xx. 6), is by the whis-
perings of the Wisdom uncreate into the heart of
the child, surely the perfection of its education is the
bringing it into closest contact with the sacred Heart
of Jesus, which our charity desires and strives to do.

Yes, dearly beloved, if we have spoken to you of
fearing not to bring the children of the jjoorest into
your bosoms, as Jesus taught you to do, we now tell
you a still better thing to bring them to His. Teach
them there, train them there, warm them there, flU
their heads, their hearts there ; and you will indeed
have done more than receive them in His name, you
will have taken them up in your arms, only to place
them in His; you will have obtained for them Hia
embrace, besides your own.
. And now, dear children in Christ, does it not sound

r«-liouiie <»f
Hiai !«e«k*
hoeo other
tho child's
mid b.ivo it
re ita heart
long before
said : " In-
If wisdom
jhall please
m the evil
larding the
\\ th»}n, the
irt of Jesus,
bo filled ; if
utb and the
ay the whis-
tle heart of
nation is the
acred Heart
ive« to do.
ti to you of
poorest into
we now tell
His. Teach
m there, fill
will indeed
s name, you
mly to place
r them His

it not sound

oil Tiir. rnrcATioN or tiik iikaht or jr^vn. 411

sfrftugo that we should pn)pose to you to barter UfV-
isluiblH ri«'ln«8 against inunortal souls? I)o«'« it not
seem profano, that this embrace of which we have
spoken should be purchasable by vile dross? Yet so
it is. It is literally ii matter of computation, how
much suffices, to give to each single child in I^ndon,
now spiritually destitute, and morally abandnntMl, the
full privilege of this holy education. A small sum, a
very small sam— less than a day's excursion for pleas-
ure, less than a journey to see a race, Iwm than a very sim-
ple attire— than a small ornament, less than at times a
modest nosegay, perhaps a single flower would cost,
given once a-year to this charity,* will rescue one
child from the defilements of the sti-eet, or the idle-
ness of home ; will purchase the one child who may
represent Jesus to one of yoo, and place it to be nui-sed
at His Heart

For, dear disciples of this loving Heart, once there
it departs no more. Whence in course of time will
flow the waters of eternal life, but from their source
in that blessed Heart, which, at every pulse during
thirty-three years, distilled new drops, eveiy one of
which was a world's ransom? When for the first
time that child shall quaflT that cleansing blood ffom
the cup of salvation, when Jesua returns its early
mystical embrace, by bringing the entire well of His
mercies into nearest contact with that panting heart,
which has longed for the hour of that sacramental
embrace ; is it possible that you can purchase this
sublime felicity for that child—nay, that you can

• It hH bMB Mloolaiad iliat th« ednoAtloa of « ohUd ooato CI KM. for a ymr.

MMVmn!G!$ffl3EII|t"

oMWi

»0mt

413 ON nu EnuoATioN or the iikaiit or jwiim.

i»urchn«fl It for iti UnX ? Oh t rIvo tho pric« chttr-
fully, uMgrudginRly 1 iny, when this i- re«a to >^ou—
ifty generouHly. " I will hnvfl my own poor ch.M this
yenr : though it mny cost me ft sligiit Knciiflcr, I
will give my dear Saviour one, cupeciiiUy mine, to

embrace." . <-, i

And BO, if one day it stray away from »t« Good
Shepherd, whither will it return, whither will it be
allured? To IIih Heart flii»t, and then on to Ilm
Bhouldem. For flnit it will be forgiven, an.l then It
will be sustained. And where is the mercy that par-
don«, where the kindnew that encourages, save i" His
loving and mighty Heart 1 No: once place the chi Id
where a Catholic education alone can, in the adorable
Heart of Jesus, and nothing but hardened sin can
fully separate him from it. It will be his refuge, his
fortress, his home, his pharmacy, his fragrant garden,
his fruitful field, his sure path, his paradise, his gate
of salvation. There he will find his gold, his balm,
his fragrance, his light, his food, his refreshment, hii
comfort, his joy in life, his hope in death.

Ever holy and adorable symbol of love immense
and undying, yet compressed and death-stricken, Heart
not of Jesus alone in the flesh, but Heai't of the entire
Church, Heart of the Universe, beating still, in bliss-
ful throbs, the hours and the minutes, nay, the instants,
of forgiveness, of grace, of salvation to earth, of joy,
and beatitude, and ecstasy to heaven 1 we salute Thee
in homage, we worship Thee in adoration, we entreat
Thee suppliant I Take to Thyself, in tender embrace,
the children of Thy poor in this city, where light is
the most brilliant, and darkness the most deep; where

prfwi eh^tf-

1(1 to you—

r child tbit

unciiflce, I

ly mine, to

m it« Good
r will it b«
on to His
and then it
cy that pnr-
, sftvo i" His
ace th« child
the adornblu
iwl din cun
is refuge, his
jirant garden,
iliHe, hi« gate
Id, his balm,
reshment, his

■

ove immense
tricken. Heart
1 of the entire
still, in bliss-
r, the instants,
earth, of joy,
re salute Thee
)u, we entreat
nder embrace,
(vhere light is
t deep ; whero

nil rOBTr UOUtta' AOORAIIU.f, KTO.

41H

strength and weakness, lift' and death, all exceum's of
good and evil, virtue and vic(«, vn'Mtle an no wluM-e
eltp, for the nui>»t«'ry of Tliy lovt»l oni')*, and tiio do-
struction of Tliy Churcli'w liopt-ft. ShioM and liaiboi
them, foed and Htri'ngth«'n them ; for power and uhuu*
dance are laid up in Thee, O great and admirable
Heart! If uut, how would the world have loii r«>-
deemed ? But be it our honor and our nuTit, that
Thou receive them from us. We will snatch tlu-m up
from tlu'ir dereliction, wo will break their snares, wo
will rescue them from the wicked fowlern who are
spreading nets on every side; and wo will consign
them to that happy embrnce, which joins heart to
heart, the weak, fluttering, treml)ling heart, to the
noble, the impregnable, and yet most sweet and ten-
der of heart* : — to Thine, O Jesus I

No. VI.

p^titutlott 0i the ^oi1)t Souris' ^dorntiott o( our ^ot&
ia the '^ImtA OfurUnri^t, 1840.

If the rule of the Christian fast is that prescribed
by our blessed Lord, not to be "as the hypocrites, sad"
(Matt. vi. 16), the Church will not fail to provide you,
during this holy season of fasting, the means and mo-
tives of spiritual joy. She will associate with the
hard, but consoling, task of imitating our divine Re-
deemer, in the practice of His virtues, that devotion
towards Him in His adorable humanity, which more

inzi^iu.- ir-

]

414 INSTITUTION OF THE FORTY IlOUKs' ADORATION

than any other poura the unction of gladness (P«. xHv.
8) over the soul, and makes the spirit to exult in God
its Saviour (Luke, i. 47.) Yea, beloved in the Lord,
on her behalf, and through the Divine mercy, we have
thought it our duty to provide for you, during this
season of mourning, an unfailing source of consolation,
of grace, of devotion, and of love. We have, therefore,
80 disposed, as that throughout the whole of Lent, the
Most Blessed Sacrament shall remain exposed in one
or other of the public churches or chapels of this me-
tropolis, so that every day it may be in each one's
power, not only to assist at a solemn service of the
Church, but, at whatever time he choses, to pour out
his affections at the feet <>f his Saviour. And we
doubt not that every one will gladly seize any moment
of leisure, to pay his tribute of homage to Him, at
that particular place, where on each day He shall be
more especially honored.

And, as this devotion, called the Forty Hours' Ex-
position of the Blessed Sacrament, is as yet but little
known in this country, we will proceed, in a few
words to explain it; promising no more of its history
than to say, that it was firat instituted at Milan in
1534, that it was thence introduced into Rome, through
the instrumentality of its great modern Apostle, the
holy St. Philip Neii, and was formally sanctioned by
Pope Clement VHL in 1592, in consequence, as he
says of the troubled state of Christendom, and the
sufferings of the Church. (Racolta di Orazioni, &c.
Rome. -841, p. 181.)

As a condition of the Incarnation of the \Vord, an
exchange was made, not unequal, between earth and

HATIOW

'88 (Ps. Xliv.

xult in God
1 the Lord,
•cy, we have
during this
consolation,
'6, therefore,
of Lent, the
>osed in one
I of this me-
1 each one's
rvice of the
to pour out
r. And we
any moment
B to Him, at
He shall be

y Hours' Ex-

yet but little
jd, in a few
of its history

at Milan in
ome, through

Apostle, the
(auctioned by
luence, as he
lom, and the
Orazioni, <fec.

the Word, an
ten earth and

OF OUtt LORD IN THE BLESSED EUCHARIST, 1849. 415

Heaven. We gave to it not only the spirits of the
just made peifect, in the glorious choir of saints who
fill the seats of fallen angels, but, in anticipation of the
resurrection, one precious instalment of humanity
glorified, in Her the spotless, who rules in the very
body, over the hosts of angels, as their queen. But
even higher this our flesh has penetrated, yea into the
very sanctuary of God's light inaccessible. For in the
very midst and centre of that dazzling radiance, towards
which blissful spirits bend gazing and adoring, is to be
seen the gentle " likeness of the Son of Man" ( Apoc. i.
13) in all things resembling us. And in return, heav-
en has bestowed on earth, not merely communion
between us, and its happy citizens, but the permanent
dwelling of God among us, who, under the name of
the Emanuel, or, " God with us," lives ever in the
midst of His Church, to be the direct object of our
adoration and love.

And so it comes, dearly beloved, that Heaven wor-
ships now the nature of man indivisibly united with
the Godhead, and Earth adores the Deity, joined in-
separably to our humanity, in the Person of the incar-
nate Woi'd. Hence is our worship and theirs but one ;
one in object, one in value, one in sentiment, one, if
possible, in form. For so identical throughout this
communion of saints, is the essence of divine worship,
that the very mode of its performance necessarily be-
comes similar, not to say one. So that in reading the
glorious visions of Heaven's sanctuary, thrown open to
St. John, it becomes difficult to determine, whether he
there beheld counterparts to what the Church had
already instituted upon earth, or types which served

^Omm

JWBTrrUTION OF THK FORTY HOURS ADORATION 416

lier under apostolic guidance, for the framing of her
ritual. But rather would we say that the same divine
. instinct guided both : and taught angels in Heaven,
and saints on earth, to adore and to love with the
same outward expression. And so the whole forms
but one Church, and one woi-ship. There is one altar
in both, beneath which the slain for Christ rest, and
on which the same Victim-Lamb reposes ; one censer
from which prayer rises fragrant, from minister's to
angel's hand ; one bench of venerable elders, that sit or
fall prostrate in rich array around; one choir, one
song, one voice, one heart, one life.

In one only respect would these services appear to
differ : that theii-s is perpetual, uninterrupted, unceas-
ing; that the thrice-repeated "Holy" echoes ever
through those golden vaults, while we, only at brief
and distant periods, can unite in formal worship. But
even here the Spouse of Christ on earth would not be
outdone; and wishful to rival the very deathless and
sleepless watchfulness of those eyes, that sparkle all
over the Cherubim round the Throne of God (Apoc.
iv. 6), she has instituted at different periods modes of
imitating the unfailing worship of Heaven. In early
ages she taught her religious in desert and in monas-
tery, to divide themselves into choire, that day and
night kept up the praises of God in uninterrupted
psalmody ; and in our days (O happy and heavenly
thought I) she has instituted this perpetual adoration
of the Blessed Eucharist, of Him whom in Heaven
they so worship, with us present as truly as with them.
This it is, dearly beloved, that we are going to intio-
duce among you.

%«««£.

»i»iiii i<- mi ' i>i.i»- 1 ii

II I f^w ^JktUmtimAMt

■IfakI

I W WII l ' JH -

.TION 416

lug of her
line divine
I Heaven,
I with the
lole forms
) one altar
b rest, and
jne censer
nister'a to
that sit or
choir, one

appear to
ed, unceaa-
shoes ever
ly at brief
ship. But
uld not be
thless and
sparkle all
lod (Apoc.
3 modes of
, In early

in monas-
it day and
interrupted
i heavenly
il adoration
in Heaven
with them,
ig to inti'o*

OF OUR LORD IN THE DLK88ED EUCnARWT, '840. 117

But it is not your Saviour, "as the hidden Mnnna"
(Apoc. ii. 11) of which you partake, that you have
here to reverence and love ; it is your Lord, your God,
triumphant over death for you, yet shrouding from you
His ovei'powering glory, to whom you Live to pay
your open and solemn homage ; — not ensLriued in His
poor tabernacle, where, because unseen. He is often
wnhonored, but enthroned, as in Heaven, above His
own altar, Lord of His own Sanctuary, centre of all
surrounding splendor, challenging, with love, deep ad-
oration. Around Him shall flame the hallowed tapers,
by whose pure ray the Church symbolizes, however
feebly, the bright spirits that shine around His heav-
enly throne. At His feet earth shall scatter its
choicest flowers, as its grateful tribute to Him that
bloomed so fair from Jesse's root. (Isai. xi. 1.) On
all sides shall bo arrayed whatever of richness and
splendor our poverty can collect, to adorn the chosen
abode of Him, who hath said : " the silver is : jino and
the gold is mine" (Aggeus, ii. 9), and does not disdain
any manifestation of our reverence. Hasten then,
dearly beloved, to bring whatever may be necessary
to enrich the solemnity of that happy day, when your
Lord, in His kingly progress, shall visit your own
temple, saying, " I will fill tJiis house with glory" (lb.
8), and, whether it be splendid or lowly, shall there
abide in special state. Give proof to all that come
there to visit Him, that you prize, you cherbh, you
love this privilege whicli He bestows ; and that, like
Solomon and the people of Israel, you have "gladly
offered all these things" (1 Paral. xxix. 17) which are
requisite to its becoming, and even splendid, enjoy*

418 INSTlTUTIOJr OF TlIK FORTY IIOUKS' ADORATIOK

ment. And " presently the Lord whom you seek, nnd
the ftogel of the testament whom you desire, shall
come to His temple." (Malachi, iii. 1.)

Oh 1 then, go forth with joyful hearts, to meet and
welcome Him ; and leave Him not alone, so long as
He shall condescend to dwell in the midst of you.
From that lofty mercy-seat whereon He hath 1 ieu
placed, from that bright radiance in the mid^^. of
which, as a peerless nnd priceless gem. He hath been
set — beauty Himself, essential Liglit, and mr.tchless
Splendor^ thei ! go forth on every side, not scorching
rays of glory, not burning shafts of might, but a mild
and constant flow of holiness and grace, which fills
the entire space from roof to pavement, with the very
breath and air of Heaven. Silent n- 1 soft, as wave
impelling wave of fragrance, goes forth, and diffuses
itself around, that savor of sweetness, that balm of
life, that virtue which, emanating from the sacred
humanity of Jesus upon earth, healed all diseases.
(Luke, viii. 46.) And from the threshold of this. His
palace, now, no less than His temple, it will pass
abroad, and spread itself on all sides, till it reach your
dwellings; and, more powerful than that blessing
which the Ark of the Covenant (type, whereof you
now possess the reality) shed over the house of Obe-
dedom (2 Reg. vi. 12), it will impart to them peace
and grace, and welfare spiritual and temporal. " I
will fill this house with glory, saith the Lord of
Hosts ... and in this place I will give peace,
said the Lord of Hosts." (Ag. ii. 10.)

But now it is that you will practice that angelic
worship, lost and unknown out of the Catholic Church,

;ATioir

OF OUR LORD IN Til?: BLESSED EUCIIAHKT, 1840. 410

a seek, nnd
esire, sliall

> meet and
so long as
Ist of you.
hath ^'!eu

I inidsM of
hath been
matchless

b scorching
but a mild
which fills
h the very
ft, as wave
nu diffuses
it balm of
the sacred

II diseases,
of this, His
\, will pass
reach your
it blessing
hereof you
use of Obe-
;hem peace
iporal. " I
le Lord of
give peace,

hat angelic
>lic Church,

the worship of pure adoration. For, beyond her pnle,
men may praise God, or address Him, or perform other
religious acts, but they cannot know nor make that
special homage which His presence, ns we possess it,
inspires ; when, without word spoken, or sound ut-
tered, or act performed, the soul sinks prostrate, and
annihilates itself before Him, casts all its powei-s, and
gifts, and bnghtest ornaments, as worthless oblations,
before His altar, and subjects its entire being as a
victim to His sole adorable will. When first, then,
you approach the place where He is solemnly wor-
shipped, as you 'hunibly bend your knees, and bow
your heads, let this deep and silent adoration be your
first act. Speak not in words, forget all selfish
thoughts, repress even all eager longings of your
hearts ; and receive the benediction of your mighty
Lord in solemn stillness ; while i ou reputing your-
selves but^^ dust and ashes at His feet, a nothingness
before Him, tender Him the homage of loyal vassals,
humbled as the clay before the potter (Isai. xxix. 16),
as the creature before its God. Then raise up your
eyes, those keen eyes of Faith, which, through the
veil of sacramental elements, see, as John did, " in the
midst of the seven golden candlesticks, one like to the
Son of Man" (Apoc. i. 13); yea, the adorable Jesus,
the king of your souls, and there feaat long your sight
upon that sacred Humanity which love hath given
Him, and with it kindred and brotherhood, and ties of
tenderest affection with yon. And now speak to Him,
but with outpoured souls, with the unrestrained famili-
arity of warmest friendship, face to face — no longer
with the awful Lord, like Moses or Elias on Horeb

-mmmlt^^

420 iNflTiTunoif or tub roitxr hours' adouation

(Exod. xxxiii. 11; 3 Hep. xix. 11), but with them,
and Peter, and John on ' (Ps. cxxxi. 7), u he,e

you see Him radiant wii ua own light, but unid
and inviting love.

Pray to Him now for your own salvation and for
that of all mankind. Pray for the exaltation of His
holy Church, for the happiness and prosperity of the
supreme pastor, our holy and afflicted Pontiflf. Pray
for the propagation of the true faith, and the conver-
sion of all in error, and especially of our own dear
country. Pray that God will mercifully remove from
us the scourges and judgments which we have de-
served by our sins, and remember no longer our
offences, nor those of our parents, but rather show ua
mercy, and give to us His good gifts, but principally
His grace, holiness of life, and perseverance in His

divine service.

And then, oh I never think of rising from before
Him without thanking Him from your hearts for this
miraculous institution of llis power and goodness,
this sweetest pledge of His love. Adore Him now
again as the Treasure of your souls, the Food of life,
the living Bread that cometh down from Heaven,
your Consoler, your Strengthener, your surest Hope
in life and death. Speak to Him of the kindness, of
the self-abasement, of the immense condescension
which He here exhibits ; of the untiring affection for
poor man which He displays, in bearing with so much
coldneas, ingratitude, and even sacrilege, as this blessed
memorial of His death exposes Him to; of the still
more incomprehensible excess of love, which makes
Him cummuuicate Himself daily to us, frail and smful

TION

or OUn LORD in the BLESHED EUCHARIST, 1810. 4'il

th them,
7), where
but liiiid

I and for
)n of Hi3
ity of the
iff. Pnvy
le conver-
own dear
love from
have de-
)nger our
r show ua
)rincipally
ce iu His

Dm before
•t3 for this
goodness,
Him now
)od of life,
a Heaven,
rest Hope
lindness, of
idescension
ffection for
ih 80 much
this blessed
3f the still
lich makes
I and sinful

creatures, as our food, and thus brings our very hearts
and souls into contact with His I And offer Him your
humble tribute of reverence and love, in reparation
and atonement for those scoffs, contradictions and blas-
phemies to which He has long been, and is daily, sub-
ject in, his adorable Sacrament, and nowhere so much
as in this unbelieving land.

But, dearly beloved in Christ, confine not your de-
votion to the time when the opportunity for this
heavenly act of woi-ship shall come to your very doors.
Say rather, " we will go into His tabernacle, we will
adore in the place where His feet have stood." (Pa.
cxxxi. 7.) Make this, if possible, a daily devotion
throughout the Lent — this daily worship of your di-
vine Saviour iu His Blessed Eucharist. Fear not to
penetrate where His humbler temples stand in the
midst of His poor ; let your faith guide you beyond
the range of your ordinary occupation, and the beat
of worldly recreations, holding that spot to be the
most noble, the most sacred, and the most highly j)ri.
vileged, for the time, in which He is manifested to be
publicly adored.

THE XKD.

«i i T , ii ' i niiiii). i ia««jat BJigB>MM

R^SI

'wssssKi^